#i lived not only in fear of Emotional Damage but also the lighting in this episode
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Alive
synopsis: the fall of your homeland is a catastrophe as it is, however, it's not only the home you and your husband lost. It's just a miracle you didn't lose each other.
prompt: 21
requested by: a lovely anon
pairing: Pierro x fem!reader
tw: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pre-Fatui Pierro (he is more open and emotional), topic of pregnancy and children, a couple of my personal headcannons about Khaenri'ah and how the curse affects the body. [...] - is used in places where Pierro and reader use their real names.
word count: 1.3k+ words in total
a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 1 more requests to write. Also this fic is from the same AU my other fic is - Behind the wall of falling snow we love. You can check it if you'd like some more
Bright Sumeru sun is blinding and the evergreen forests are dizzying when you look long enough. And yet [...] forces his eyes to take in the life itself blooming in front of him, tired gaze mindlessly following the movement of a red butterfly, flying by. Red. Red, red, red, r e d╴
Khaenri’ahn stars hide behind the eyelids, fingers clenching in a fist unconsciously. So much blood, everything is dirtied by the curse. To this very second he can hardly endure it - two months later and it still haunts him as if he’s back there, at the beginning of the end. Screams, cries, loud screeching of machines, rumbling of collapsing buildings and deafening booming of explosions… It’s hard to forget, he believes he never will. There is blood on his hands yet he hasn’t killed anyone. He only tried to save, but he managed to save only one╴
The one he can’t imagine his life without.
The one the healer is examining behind his turned back. This old man was tolerable, he kept his mouth shut about two refugees from the fallen nation hiding here, above the surface and under the sun. The two previous ones had to go.
“Your wife’s condition is better,” the silver-haired man shivers, torn from his thoughts and finally lets go of the blindfold, dimming the natural light inside this small house you had luck buying. Your love for wearing jewelry and the rules that dictated adorning his mage’s robes in those helped you both survive so far.
“Be more specific,” he demands, returning to the bed, gaze immediately on your body, resting under the covers. Your eyes, equally as mysterious, momentarily dart from the healer to your husband. Before you could even lift a hand resting atop the duvet, he already leans in and slides his palm under yours, squeezing.
“The healing process is complete,” you see the way his breath shakes when your beloved exhales in relief. Fingers flex around yours in a comforting gesture. “I can’t get rid of this curse mark, but I succeeded in eliminating the harm it caused to her internal organs. But,” the wise man looks at you, no longer talking to the man at your side and his gaze turns sorrowful. Your heart stops in fear, knowing what he is about to confirm. “As I said before - I am afraid you won’t have children again. Ever. From what is known of the medicine right now - the closeness of your reproductive organs to the fetus most likely made them more exposed to the damage. On the bright side, I estimate that this factor won’t stop you from continuing living your life. I am still not sure how exactly this ‘disease’ got into your body, however from my observations over you I can state with all confidence - it’s a miracle you stayed alive, dear.”
It’s a miracle you stayed alive.
Big hand squeezes around yours. He doesn’t know yet, that the two of you were cursed with immortality, he doesn’t know yet, that sooner or later even the damage of the severely cursed part of your body would’ve naturally healed either way (not completely, but still). All he knows right now is that there was a possibility of him losing you.
When the healer leaves your humble abode - this one deserves to live - you ask your lover to help you sit, which he does and immediately takes a seat on the edge of your simple bed (it groans a little under his burly mass, but you both ignore it). He still hasn't let go of your hand.
A few moments are spent in silence. You are deep in your own unease, while he is wrecking his head over the way to start the conversation. Gently. He doesn’t want to bring those memories back - how the curse targeted the weakest spot in your body - your womb, how he had to save you, to make a life-changing decision of ridding your body off what was slowly killing you - *your own unborn child*... How he used his best knowledge in healing magic to keep you stable and get you out of the falling land. Everything else is a blur. But everything else doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that you are alive.
“My heart,” he starts slowly, but these two words are enough to gather your attention, “I am relieved to know you are alright. Forgive me my selfish desires, but I can’t fathom a thought of losing you, of spending the rest of my life without you. I ask a lot from you, but, please,” he covers the hand he is already holding with his other one, “I know it’s hard, but I beg you not to forget the happy days we spent together, the love we share,” your gaze falls to the wedding bracelets clasped around your wrists and your heart clenches when you hear desperation in his voice, “and above all, do not let go of your desire to live… For any reason, understood?”
“If you tell me this one more time, I will let go.”
Your abrupt response surprises you. You didn’t mean to lash out, but suddenly it just happened. Is it the brewing pain in your heart? The dull ache and emptiness in your stomach? The settling understanding of the loss and that life will never be the same? You don’t know. You feel too much.
He is taken aback and you notice. Eyes widen and anxiety settles in your heart - have you pushed him away?
"You know you are not guilty, [...]?" Your husband reaches to cup your cheek. You hopelessly cling to it with your free one, leaning into the warm palm, closing your eyes. "At that time nothing else could've been done."
"But if I was stronger, if my body was stronger-"
"But we were not, my heart. It's a cruel reality, but every time I see you I am so glad you were spared. Even if it happened like that."
He knows his words are cruel and he says them to your face now, raw and hurting, but that is the only truth he has. And he is not going to lie to the woman he vowed to treasure.
"Sorry for being rude, I didn’t mean it,” you swallow the lump in your throat, and the man beside you reassuringly caresses your cheek. He understands. “And sorry we have to have this conversation… I am not the only one hurt after all.”
"I am not mad, [...]. And you are the one who’s been hurt the most, so we will return to this topic as many times as you need. I will remind you that none of it is your fault,” his promise is soft and you make yourself believe it. He climbs next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist - gently, almost feather-lightly, - and brings you closer to his chest.
"I just really wish it wasn't our one and only chance to have a family," you snuggle into him, diving into the warmth of his body. "You don't hate me for it, right?"
"Of course I do not. There will never be a thing I'll hate you for."
"Thank you…"
"No, thank you for being alive."
He can feel your lips pulling in a small smile against his chest. He is aware that so little time is not enough to numb the mind and heart to the memories and that this pain is hard to heal - he is sure it never completely will, and even though he is pushing his own despair to the back of his head, he fully shares your hurt. He keeps reminding himself, that you got to stay alive and you are right here, he can see, touch, hold, love you…
And even in the frozen lands of your soon-to-be-destination he’ll continue doing so.
#pearly writing appreciation event#token of appreciation#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#pierro x reader#pierro x fem!reader#pierro genshin#genshin impact angst
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To My Dearest One (Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader)
Premise: Leon comes home after a mission.
Sad Vibes/Slight Comfort, Song fic
Word count: 1072
Content warning: Not beta read or really edited if I'm honest. Vague Infinite Darkness and RE6 spoilers. Leon and his whole deal, especially post-RE4 stuff. Depression. Isolation. Implied suicidal thoughts. Reader is sort of a living emotional crutch for Leon. Also reader is not quite all right. I can't write domestic fluff for the life of me. Look, the grammar is going to be a mess, I constantly switch between using APA, AP, and MLA on a regular basis for professional stuff. My brain is gonna zone out here.
Song fic time and first time writing Leon. Came up with the idea while I was studying for my interrogation test for history and I had a concert where this song was performed playing in the background.
Finished writing this in between studying for my psych exam in a couple days.
Hope you enjoy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
Song: Itoshiki Hito E (To My Dearest One) by Kotobuki Reiji (CV: Morikubo Showtaro), Translation by Utapri No Sekai (slight variation by me)
The apartment is quiet besides the sounds of light music and cooking as he enters. Despite living there for a few years, it lacks much character causing it to feel hollow. One of the only things proving that it was Leon's apartment was the sun damaged photos, yellowed with time.
One of them from years ago as he visited Sherry on her birthday. The smile on the girl's face. Claire.
It all felt so distant.
Everything grew out of reach. Nothing seemed to last for a broken man, especially for one who had the bright sparkle in his eyes beaten out so violently.
As he approaches the kitchen, the smell of onion and herbs wafting through the air, Leon notices the nostalgic yellow tinted light that colors the white walls.
At the stove-top was a familiar figure standing before a pot of soup.
You.
A heart made of glass is always... hurting anything that tries to touch it. Yet you embrace it so tight without fear.
His arms wrap around your waist as his head sits upon yours in this rehearsed dance. He smells your shampoo as he takes a deep breath.
"Welcome back, Leon.” You say in a light tone as if he wasn't gone for a little over a week. "I'm making tortellini soup tonight."
He can hear how much you missed him. Even if you don't say it, those feelings tinge your voice.
"Mmm," he sighs with closed eyes, "That sounds good. Haven't had that in awhile."
Leon’s hold on you is strong. He wants to savor the moment.
There’s an itch in the back of his mind; one that would never leave. That this relationship would only hurt you. That he was taking advantage of your kindness. That he could never express just how much he loved the sense of normalcy you brought.
As if sensing his emotions, you quietly grab his left hand with a softness Leon wasn’t used to feeling.
Your hands were light compared to his calloused hands, which were covered in blood. Regrets marred his digits.
The plush feeling of your lips is unfamiliar to his inner wrist. This intimate touch caused Leon to melt.
A simple touch, a simple act, a simple situation in your eyes but it doesn’t feel so simple to him.
A clink as the spoon is set down. You turn around to face him.
But such happiness is sometimes, through cruelty of God, suddenly in front of my eyes… disappears and it makes me so scared.
The look in your eyes, how greatly it contrasted the steely eyes he would see everyday. Fresh eyes that didn’t twist with fear, changed. Not hardened by painful experiences. The look in your eyes is different.
Tired but understanding.
It is something that Leon was grateful for. A calm in a life that he felt so little choice or support in. A happiness from not feeling alone.
A deep hunger satiated but it caused a fear to rise.
What if you saw what he faces everyday? What if you got hurt even more than before? What if… you left?
They kept scratching at the back of his mind.
I live only for your sake. This voice will take an oath, to my dearest one.
Night carried on. Dinner came and went. No discussion of his work.
The ticking of the clock counting down the seconds before the feeling of the mattress would soon greet the two of you. The nighttime routine felt so unfamiliar. He was a stranger to this domestic moment.
“Apparently Sara,” your coworker, Leon had to remind himself as you spoke, “had decided to drag me out while you were gone. Saying that I was being too focused on work again.”
You roll your eyes in a familiar manner as you wipe the skin of your face with a cloth. There’s a soft, tired look, one that is aware of reality.
“Right.” Leon responds. “I already know you were hunched over your desk, typing away at a proposal looking like Gollum." He chuckles as he remembers the first time he saw you at work.
“Hey.” You pout cutely in response, before sitting on the bathroom counter and sighing. “Let me see your face.”
You put out your hand expectantly and he obliges as he puts his chin in your hand. Reaching with your other to grab his cloth and wetting it with water, you smile sweetly with the look that Leon loved.
A careful caress with the cloth as you clean his face. Your thumb traces over faint scars, reminders of the memories he can never escape. There’s a tightening in his heart at this touch.
As you finish and wring out the cloth, you turn back to face him still sitting on the counter. The softness of your hand shifts to cradle the side of his face.
In response, he lifts your chin with his fingers and gives that charming smile of his. “I have the world in my hands.”
“Not sure about that.” You reply softly. “Pretty sure I got it in mine.”
As you get into bed, due to a learned habit after living with Leon for four months, get into the side of the bed away from the door. He lies across from you and lets out a heavy sigh, as he feels exhaustion wash over him.
His hand finds its way to your waist as the light turns off. Leon’s face burrows itself in the crook of your neck, like something was commanding him to get as close as possible to you. To find the core to the warmth. The rhythm of your breath, a lullaby, gently sends him to sleep as his fingers curl atop your skin slightly.
Even at that moment, the scratching turned into digging.
Your eyes heavy and on the verge of the precipice, a whisper drifts from Leon’s lips as he is asleep.
“My only… Make me happy when…”
Will it be sent to you? Will it be conveyed? Words will never be enough… for this feeling of mine, to my dearest one.
By the time the rays of the sun bounce off your gentle skin, Leon is awake and doesn’t move as he watches you sleep peacefully. A smile creeps onto his face as he notices a line of drool.
In that moment, the man, who long lost his faith and wishes, says a silent prayer.
AN: Like what you read? Consider reblogging or leaving a comment. Thanks for reading.
#a play to the heart from ota#resident evil#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#SoundCloud#fan fiction#hurt/comfort#sad vibes
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the twist of a knife
"I am the knife. I am all blade.” -Clementine von Radics
falling down symbolism rabbit holes isn't really my bag. unless it's laid out for the audience in crystal-clear terms that "yes, X was indeed meant to mean Y" (by the writers or the script itself), I don't dedicate much mental energy to those elements in my fiction.
but something about that knife- the visceral image of Pete gripping it by the blade for dear agonizing life was haunting me. I kept circling back to the opening conversation on the bed, and the moment where Vegas' rage went up in smoke- and again, that knife. then it hit me.
like knives forged just so, no one can hurt Pete or Vegas quite like they can. and not just because of their mutual vulnerability, their love, for each other- like @ellaspore said to me, how deep they get under each other's skin.
it's their fundamental struggles, their shame, who they are at their core: if people can be 'made' for each other, Vegas and Pete were also made just so to perfectly hurt the other.
the first blow came from Vegas. lying together in the afterglow, of all the things Vegas could say, he said: "you're just a fool." just four words- pretty benign-sounding, all horrible things Vegas has said before considered.
Pete didn't have some explosive reaction, either. and that makes sense- a quiet knife slipped between the ribs is too exact, too surgical for all that. instead, Pete turned his face slowly away from Vegas, suddenly lost in his thoughts- while Vegas, still grinning in lighthearted ignorance, followed his movement with his hand, stroking Pete's face. Pete's far away now, though, his gaze focused on the ceiling.
we start to see the damage when we cut back to Pete later. Pete- who just last episode was chastising Vegas for "being stupid" for hurting himself- now slaps himself in the face. "I don't like it. so why didn't I say no?"
the killing cut was delivered when Pete's worst fear- that all of this loss and fear and pain was for nothing- was confirmed by Vegas' attack. there was no righteous rage left in Pete, hollowed out by the realization that he "has nothing left."
in his compassion, in his curiosity about this wounded, broken man- he's afraid he's lost everything. who he is, what he stands for, his self-respect, his pride- he's been stripped bare. not just by everything Vegas has done to him, but by the depth of his feelings for him in spite of it all.
that one little phrase, those four little words from Vegas cut to the heart of Pete's fears: he's not only lost it all, some of those things against his will- but the rest was by his own submission. his own volition. the definition of a fool.
on the other beautifully-tragic side of the coin, Pete cut Vegas at his emotional knees in a way no one else could. even after abusing Pete, beating him, treating him so inhumanely- darkness can only run from the light for so long. Vegas found a sliver of genuine happiness just by having Pete in his sphere.
after a lifetime of wretchedness, of thinking this misery is all life has to offer, that there's no way out- Vegas' world started to crack open for the first time in that room.
seeing Pete completely lose his joy, his humanity, his will to keep going- and knowing that he was the one that caused it- was the only thing that could snap Vegas out of his rage. and it was the reality hitting of losing him that nearly broke Vegas. he is the monster- just like he always feared.
it's also not just the idea of ruining this man he's come to love- it's the ruination of hope. of a different way of living, existing, being. no one else could deal as deep of a blow- even though Vegas himself is really the one that dealt it.
and yet- and yet. just like the agonizing way Pete let that blade cut deep into his palm, invited it, even- they can't help but hold on to the sweet agony of their connection. even after freeing himself from his imprisonment, Pete is breaking apart. Vegas is leveled, shattered by his grief. they weep, they mourn- the cuts bleed.
sometimes, love is as much about grief as it is joy- to know that in a world that hurts so deeply, so frequently? the most vulnerable, aching parts of you are at another person's complete mercy.
that they hold your heart in their hands, and you can't just take it back. there's rage there, sometimes- shades of desperation, too.
horrible, beautiful, cruel, agonizing love- like the twist of a knife.
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche the series#kinnporsche ep 13#vegaspete#biblebuild#bible wichapas#build jakapan#kinnporsche meta#kinnporsche analysis#kp meta#tonanons#tuserfaiza#usernuria#userjap#tosnimeat#kp edit#vegaspete meta#kinnporsche*
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Truthfully, he should have seen it coming.
He’d anticipated the pain and loneliness for the first week. No signal, Keith had said, but it won’t last too long. Lance had hung onto those words like they were the only thing holding him up from a chasm of frustration. Every longing look at his laptop came with a reminder that he could talk to Keith soon.
And then the second week passed. And the third.
Lance had rationalized it to himself. Keith has a very hectic schedule, after all. It’s not too unusual for him to miss a call, for him to be unavailable. It’s not like he has a set schedule. He gets missions and then he has to go — Lance would rather him be focused, honestly, even if it means he misses his boyfriend worse.
He’s in a weird state of limbo, then, when the call from Kolivan comes. Part of Lance felt dread from the moment the Blade pushed through the call. Another part begged any god who would listen that he was wrong. There had been so much panic and uncertainty swirling through thin, then, that he’d hardly even heard the Galran’s words, hardly heard him confirm Lance’s worst fear: Keith had gone missing. He was assumed dead.
Something cracked in Lance, then. Something wide and sharp and gaping, splitting all the way up from the base of his tailbone to the tip of his head. Something fragmented, as every part of him imploded.
Before he felt the pain, though, before his heart cracked fully in half, his brain went foggy, like he was a panicking horse with a blanket thrown over its head.
This is for your own good, murmured a voice in his head, gentle and cool as a river, and then Lance went blank. He heard his teammates’ outcries, heard the demand for answers and details that Kolivan did not have, saw the confusion and fear and panic in everyone’s expression.
But he was blank. He felt nothing. Red had dragged Blue to him, and had her blanket his mind and soul, protect him from his own destruction.
He spent the next two months increasingly numb. He felt things happening, logged them in his brain, interacted as normally as he could, but it almost felt like he was tethered on a string a few feet away from his body, like he was watching himself live from behind.
It was nauseating.
Watching the team fall apart, struggle to even interact as a group; watching everyone branch off and grow more irritable, watching Shiro crack under his own pressure and turn into someone Lance couldn’t recognise…it was difficult to watch. It felt like watching two trains approach each other at full speed only for you it was in slow motion; you knew it was coming, could see all the damage it was doing, but you were powerless to stop it.
I can’t do this anymore, he begged his lions. He felt both of their apprehension in his mind, their fear; of him splintering where he stands. He’s never been very good at handling heartbreak. He can barely handle the pain of being so far away from home, from what he knows. Losing people haunts him in ways that never leave. He knows that.
But he also knows that he is capable. He has made it this far. Grief is all-encompassing, it always is, but he has grown around the pain every time, and he will again.
This time, also, he has no choice. He is the Red Paladin of Voltron. Whether Shiro wants him or not, he is the right hand. He has a responsibility, and he can hide from it no longer.
It will hurt, Blue warns softly.
Lance closes his eyes, shuddering. His hands clutch tighter on the shirt he has of Keith’s, soft with use, no longer smelling of him but comforting anyway.
“I know,” he whispers.
Hesitation blooms from both lions, but Lance’s resolve is stronger. Nothing happens for a moment, the anticipation of the pain worse than any muted emotion he’s felt in weeks. Then, suddenly, like the blanket was ripped off his mind, he lights up with pain.
He gasps out in the shock of it — it’s more than he expected, everywhere, like months of grief is hitting him at once. Sobs bubble up his throat and explode out of him, violent in how they tear out of his throat, his mouth, and the heaving turns his stomach so greatly that he barely makes it to the bathroom before throwing up. He clutches the icy porcelain of the toilet seat, like the grip can help the splitting ache in his head, the burning of his eyes, the bitter taste overflowing his mouth.
“God, no,” he moans, and he’s not sure if he’s protesting the pain of a trillion suppressed neutrons firing at once or the abstract pain of knowing he will feel this ache every day for the rest of his life. “God, please, no.”
He’s not sure how long he sits like that. How long he suffers. Long enough that he runs out of tears, long enough that his voice grows hoarse. Both Blue and Red howl in pain inside his mind, frantic to watch him but unable to intervene. He mourns until he physically cannot mourn any longer, and falls asleep crumpled where he sits, clutching himself tightly to try and hold his pieces together.
He wakes suddenly to the castle’s blaring morning alarm, muscles cramped from their night-long tense positions and eyes burning. He straightens as carefully as he can, rising to wash his face and dress as quickly as he can manage. He’s going to be late regardless. And Shiro is going to be angry with him, and this time he’s just going to have to deal with it. The ache in him has not lessened. He just no longer has time to cater it.
He is the Paladin of the Red and Blue Lions, the Right Hand of Voltron.
He has a job to do.
———
fics in the same universe: before after
#i couldn’t get this one to fit but it’s decent so up it goes lol#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#langst#hurt no comfort#red paladin lance#blue paladin lance#lance & red#lance & blue#klangst#s5#klance#s6#established klance#my writing#fic#longpost
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Hi Lynn!! I hope you’re doing great and please take your time if you’re gonna write this :)
I’m not the best at elaborating but i’ll try hehe. I was thinking if you could write something super duper angsty regarding husband levi and reader during the final moment of the rumbling before they part because reader isn’t immune and ends up transforming into a titan. I wonder what levi would feel considering he was so close to living the peaceful life with reader the way he’d always dreamed of just for it to be taken away. Like yes he continued serving his duty for humanity but the thought of what could’ve been was on his mind. Also, maybe reader telling levi to remove something of hers that he wears all the time the way eren told mikasa to throw away the scarf he gave her. Omg I can’t imagine how sad the goodbyes would be bc levi knew the consequences of being attached to someone for so long in the corps but he never actually thought he couldn’t be able to save reader this time 😭
I know this was quite specific but after watching the last episode I’ve got so many angsty ideas 💔
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oof bestie imma level with ya, this one was hard to write cause it HITS-
MY POOR BABY NEEDS LOVE NOT MORE LOSS T-T
but of course, a little angst reminds us we’re human and i think we all need that from time to time. hope i did this okay!
taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe
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Despite losing it all, Levi still had you. But in the heat of the moment, seeing victory so near at hand, he never thought for a moment he’d trade the world’s freedom for the only freedom he had left.
He should have seen the signs sooner, wounded or not. Maybe it was the idea that this would finally be over, that had clouded his mind with hope. He’d been so confident he could save the last thing he had, while fighting one last time on the front lines for his freedom.
Both of your freedoms.
With your hand held tightly in his, he felt that no matter how hard he squeezed he couldn’t hold on. The smile on your face made him frown, lips quivering with words unspoken that begged to be shouted out towards the heavens. Tears unspilt burned his damaged eye as they flowed freely down his opposite cheek and soaked the thin bandaging held tight there.
“Finish this,” you’d whispered, your eyes nearly as glossy as his once you’d slipped your hand out of his firm grasp. He followed after the step you took back, stumbling over his lame leg.
“The only freedom I want is the one I’ll have with you,” he rasped out, searching your face frantically as more tears spilled.
Your comrades rushed about on either side, racing back towards Faldo’s titan for fear of the explosion that was soon to follow. Of course he had to follow, but how could he when he knew what you’d become?
“Darling, you have to go. This isn’t your end,” you whispered, bringing a hand up to his cheek and averting his gaze to your own. Removing the ring on your finger, you slipped it onto his right hand’s ring finger, and curled his hand back around the band.
“Take it not as a rejection, but as a momento to the love we shared while we could.”
With a shuddered smile, you placed one last gentle peck to his parted lips, closing your eyes to savor the last thing you’d ever feel as a human.
A whirlwind of emotions left the Captain frozen in place, hardly aware of the soft hands that shoved him into the arms of another as a sickening yellow hue resonated from the civilians and soldiers huddled together on the cliff side. The ground shook as the transformations began; human turning to beast from a singular breath of the poisoned air and the scream that followed.
As Levi was forced onto Faldo’s back, the last thing he saw before the light consumed everything around him was your loving gaze, a ring-less hand raised out to him in goodbye before you were consumed by the plague.
He couldn’t look any longer. Couldn’t see the monster you’d become. So many of those beasts he had slain in his bloody past…How could he have let this fate be your own?
A numbness crept into his mind, leaving only the thought of, why? Why you? After everyone else was gone, why you?
The freedom he fought for now, the carnage he sook to put an end to; suddenly, it was no longer for him. How could he seek the peace of freedom if his heart wasn’t in it? He’d left it there with you, on that cliff. Nothing could ever hold any significance to him after this. After you.
Letting the ever flowing tears continue to soak into his bandages, he clenched his shaking fist tightly around the band of gold in his hand, bringing it close to his heart in silent salute to the place you’d stood only moments earlier.
A silent confession of his love for you left him in a breathless whisper as they flew away from the battlefield; the last he’d ever utter.
For after you, he knew his life held no further meaning. How could there be, when you were his meaning? His drive? His soul and his heart in all its shattered beauty?
Adding your ring to the finger that held his own, he made a promise to himself.
He would see you again. He would see you soon; through this life or another he had no doubt. With this in mind, as they approached the towering figure before them, he had one last thing to fight for.
Just as before, you were his reason; to see you again. He had only one task left, to aid his comrades one last time, before he could uphold his promise to you.
Together, forever and always. No matter what.
#lynn’s requests#lynn’s drabbles#attack on titan#aot fanfiction#snk fanfiction#snk#aot#aot x reader#aot x y/n#aot x you#levi ackerman#aot levi#shingeki no kyoujin levi#attack on titan levi#levi x reader#levi aot#snk levi#levi attack on titan#captain levi#levi x you#levi ackerman post war#levi ackerman drabbles#levi ackerman drabble#levi ackerman x reader#aot finale#finale spoilers#aot angst#snk angst#levi ackerman angst#levi angst
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Resurrection Pt. 4 (Rooster x Reader)
The past two years of your life have been miserable. While recovering from an accident that left you scarred and traumatized, you get called back to Fightertown, USA to co-instruct a mission; despite having been honorably discharged. You thought it would be simple, until a certain Lieutenant starts to bring you back to life.
TW: Mentions of depression, anxiety, accidents, death, injuries.
A LOT OF THIS IS DIALOGUE FROM THE MOVIE, I ALSO GAVE THE READER A NAME FOR THIS ONE
This is the last one, I hope you all like it! <3
*****
It was easier to feel comfortable at night when Bradley was around. Your room was dimly lit by the street light, but not too much that it kept you awake any other night. Tonight you and Bradley were both awake, but neither of you spoke just in case the other received the blessing of sleep. You were nowhere near it, your mind running faster than you had ever flown. You thought about five things total: Bradley, you and Bradley, Maverick, dying, and the mission.
You wanted Bradley to live even if you didn’t. He was too kind and caring for the world to lose a man like that. He had so much left to offer everyone around him. You on the other hand, you weren’t physically whole, and despite your recent uptick in emotions, damaged. There was nothing you had left to offer anyone in this world.
“You know that’s not true,” the voice in your head reasoned, “you flew again today, better than anyone but Maverick.” Considering this, the voice in your head went on further, “and you know Bradley would be heartbroken if you died, especially if he put himself in charge of you on that mission. You have Bradley.”
For once your internal thoughts weren’t damning or depressing. You were right, Bradley had promised to keep you safe on the mission, and you had mentally promised him in return. You finally had someone who cared about you, and was willing to keep you safe.
The two of you had obviously not known each other for long, but when you weren’t sure whether or not you would live or die in the next forty eight hours all reason went out the window. You had thought about it the day before, while you were making your way out to the course, how you barely knew him and yet the two of you had slept together. It didn’t feel odd to you at all, and although you didn’t raise any concern over it to Bradley, he was in exactly the same boat. There was just something about the two of you together.
Looking over at your nightstand, you noted once more the two envelopes sitting side by side. When the both of you had determined that there was a massive risk to the mission, you both sat down and wrote letters, wills, and instructions to anyone who found them after you were gone. If one of you survived and the other did not, they would have to do what it said. If neither of you lived, someone would find them; probably a member of your team when they came to clear out your belongings and arrange your funeral.
Rolling back over, you turned your head towards Bradley, who was staring off at the wall. He met your eyes and a soft smile filled his face.
“Neither one of us can sleep,” he croaked, running his fingers down your arm and you shivered from the sensation.
“We only have an hour until we have to be up,” your voice whispered, and Bradley pulled you closer to him. He wanted to spend every moment he could with you in his arms, fearing that if he let you go you would never find your way back to him. He didn’t want to lose you, and now he feared that he might actually lose the only father figure left in his life, too. He had been furious when he found out Maverick had asked you to fly with him, but you had shut Bradley down so fast on that one. You told him Maverick had been appointed team leader. Suddenly, the Captain was in the same boat with the rest of you, and Bradley felt intense regret seep into his bones. He would talk to him later.
The two of you laid there for as long as you could, until your phone alarm cut through the silence. It was time.
*****
Bradley had offered to pick up Phoenix and Bob, who loaded their bags in with yours in the back. When she and Bob climbed into the seats behind yours and Roosters, she raised an eyebrow at you.
“Seeing us off are we?” she teased, and you couldn’t help but smirk when she noticed your flight suit was on.
“Flying the mission with you, actually,” you corrected, and her eyes widened in shock.
“Seriously?!” she asked, “How did you manage that?!”
“Cyclone was either going to send my ass to federal prison or put me on a boat to contribute,” you chuckled, “I definitely preferred the latter.”
“I still can’t believe you and Mav pulled that off,” Bob said, “You should have seen the look on Cyclone’s face.” That made you smile, you had a lot of respect for the Admiral, but when he cut Maverick as instructor and grounded him you knew what you had to do.
Before you knew it, you had all pulled up to the gate, Rooster flashing his ID, and you were all grabbing your bags from the back.
“Zippy, you’ll be assigned one of our own jets for this mission,” an F/A-18 maintenance officer walked with you, giving you the rundown as you followed everyone to their own jets. You nodded, and rolled up to one that had no name on it, since it was just a spare.
Stowing your things, you climbed up into the cockpit, everyone getting themselves ready for takeoff. The sun was beginning to rise and you appreciated the view you would have on the ride out to the carrier.
Running through the preflight checklist, and testing everything one by one, the canopy was finally closing, and you looked over at Rooster, in his own cockpit. He nodded once, and gave you a thumbs up. You tapped the glass twice, giving him one right back.
“Tower to Burners one through three, you are cleared to begin taxi,” the tower came over the radio, and Rooster broke away from his spot, being pulled out into the runway by one of the ground flight crew. Natasha and Bob were next, and you finally began your own little trip out to the runway. One by one you were all cleared for takeoff, Rooster and Phoenix performing passes just as you pulled off the ground yourself, coming around to fall in with them.
No turning back now.
*****
The carrier landing had been like tying your shoes, or riding a bike. If a bike was a multi-million dollar, thirty three ton aircraft.
Dropping your stuff in your assigned quarters with Natasha in the same room, you all left to report to the briefing room. Maverick was there, waiting for the last of you to trickle in. He smiled at you, happy to see you despite the circumstances, and you smiled back. If you died, at least you would be right where you belonged.
*****
“It has been an honor flying with you,” when Maverick spoke those words he looked right at you and Rooster. For the purpose of the conversation, it was directed to everyone in the room, but he meant that with you and him in mind especially, “each one of you represents the best of the best.” He paused.
“This is a very specific mission, my choice is a reflection of that, and nothing more,” he finished.
“Choose your two Foxtrot teams,” Cyclone ordered.
“Payback and Fanboy, Phoenix and Bob,” Maverick stated.
“And your wingman,” the word hung heavy in the air. You noticed Hangman straighten up in preparation for being selected. Maverick debated his decision for a moment longer before speaking up.
“Rooster and Zippy,” he said, “Rooster will take on Dagger Two and Zippy will take on Dagger Five, bringing up the rear.”
That meant you would be the most vulnerable to any fighters in the area. You knew Maverick had no intention of putting you there because he disliked you, he was the one who knew you could dogfight just as well as he could.
“The rest of you will stand by on the carrier, for any reserve role that's required,” Warlock spoke up, “dismissed.” You saw Hangman look over to you and Rooster, almost feeling bad that you had swooped in and took his opportunity. It’s not like that's what you had intended.
Everyone involved in the mission filed out of the room to the hangar on board. You and Rooster walked without any words exchanged between the two of you, and the briefing began.
It was everything you had been teaching with Maverick for the past two and a half weeks, only a small change had been made.
Since you were now bringing up the rear, you were now responsible for hitting the target if the second pair of Daggers missed. This also meant that any enemy aircraft would be waiting for you when you entered Coffin Corner. The fact that the runway would be cratered brought you a little peace.
The little voice that was in the back of your head was less positive now than it was this morning.
You were preparing to board your plane before you knew it. Panic was starting to fill your blood, as you realized the day was moving too fast.
You felt a hand on your arm and you turned to see Rooster, sweating under the pressure, still making your heart flutter amongst all the commotion of the ship.
“Zippy,” he began, and you nodded listening, “I am the dumbest man alive,” he grinned and you crinkled your eyebrows at him.
“Why?” you laughed.
“I was beginning to think your name was Zippy,” he chuckled, “you never told me your actual name y'know?!”
You leaned in close to him, putting your mouth next to his ear.
“Gale,” you said, only for him to hear, “I’ve always hated it, that’s why I never share it if I don’t have to,” you huffed, and before you could pull away he hugged you.
“I love it,” he whispered, and even though he was referring to your name, you knew that’s not the word he wanted to use at the end of his sentence. The two of you broke away to see Hangman standing there, waiting for a chance to speak with the pair.
He stared at the both of you, and you weren’t sure what he was going to say.
“Give ‘em hell!” he shouted, and you both nodded.
Taking one last look at Bradley, you turned to climb into your jet, and he turned to make his way to his. He stopped short upon seeing Maverick, and they exchanged a few words before a radio announcement cut them off. They parted and Maverick called something out to Bradley, who nodded and turned once again. Everyone was almost ready, and in the traditional fashion of the day, sooner than you knew it Maverick was launched into the open air.
“Dagger Five, prepared for launch,” you spoke into your headset, which still crackled a little over the comms.
“Dagger Five away,” the tower responded, and you were being flung out into the open air, soaring to meet the rest of your team.
*****
“Daggers, assume attack formation,” Maverick ordered over the radio, and you lined up behind Payback and Fanboy, keeping speed, “Dagger is set proceeding to target, two minutes and thirty seconds in three, two, one, mark.”
“Two mark,” Rooster noted.
“Three mark,” Phoenix piped up.
“Four mark,” Payback stated.
“Five mark,” you declared.
The clock was ticking now, as you began the first turns of the canyon. Water vapor covered yours and the other jets' tails in a sonic boom.
“First SAM sighting up ahead,” Maverick noted, and you looked up to the right, seeing the missiles perched high above your heads.
“Looks like we’re clear on radar, Mav,” Phoenix said and Maverick answered her observance.
“More SAMs, three o’clock high!” Fanboy shouted through the radio, suffering through the turns.
“We got two minutes to target!” Bob confirmed, and you all copied through the radio.
“Rooster, we gotta move!” Payback sounded nervous over the radio. You were falling behind as a result of whatever was holding Rooster back. The radar picked up two bandits in the vicinity and you knew you had to move with a sense of purpose, now.
“They’re headed away from us,” Bradley said, “they don't know we’re here.”
“The second those tomahawks hit the air base, they’re gonna move to defend the target! We have to get there before they do, increase speed,” Maverick commanded.
“We got you, Mav, don't wait for me,” Phoenix confirmed, yet you were still moving along at the snail's pace Rooster had set for you and Payback.
The tomahawks hit the air strip and the bandits began to move on your radar.
“Rooster, where are you?” Maverick asked, in a concerned and stressed tone.
“Come on, Rooster! Bandits inbound! We gotta make up time, let's turn and burn!” Payback was getting even more nervous now. He wasn’t moving.
“Guys we’re falling behind! We really gotta move!” Fanboy was panicking now.
“If we don’t increase speed right now, those bandits are gonna be waiting for us when we reach the target!” Payback shouted. You knew that if Rooster didn’t move, you would be in a world of trouble when you arrived, being in the rear.
“...talk to me Dad,” Rooster’s voice was barely above a whisper, and you knew he was scared.
“Rooster,” you warned.
“Come on kid, you can do it. Don’t think, just do,” Maverick said at the same time you spoke.
Rooster hit the throttle and took off, reengaging into the course, Payback shouting in surprise. You picked up speed immediately, pursuing the men in front of you closely.
“Alright! Let’s go!” Bradley whooped, head in the game now.
“Damn, Rooster! Take it easy,” Fanboy cried out, and a laugh bubbled out of your chest.
“Yes!” you shouted.
You heard Bob checking his laser over the comms, when Rooster’s warning came through.
“Watch your heads!” he turned ninety degrees to move through the bridge, you and Payback whistling through behind him. You decrease your speed to fall behind the group a little more, allowing room for them so you could hit the target if necessary.
The first miracle occurred, the ventilation shaft being blown sky high.
Then the second miracle occurred, Rooster hitting the exposed opening blind.
You began pulling up as the ground fell out from underneath you, and you whooped.
“Bullseye!” you celebrated.
The steep climb was killing you, your skull crushed your spine and darkness was eating away at your field of vision. Groaning, you tried to fight it off. Only when beeping filled your headset were you free of the climb.
“Smoke in the air!”
It was a mess, there were SAMs everywhere, and everyone was breaking in one direction or another. Flares were deployed one after the other, and everyone was backing each other up.
“Dagger Five defending!” you shouted, launching flares, pulling up.
“Rooster! Evade! Evade!” Maverick screamed over the radio, and Rooster couldn’t shake them.
You turned in your seat to see flares cover Rooster’s ass just as Maverick got hit.
Opening your mouth to shout, no sound came out.
“Mav! No!” Rooster called out.
“Dagger one is hit! I repeat Dagger one is hit! Maverick is down!” Phoenix’s voice came over the radio. Your radar beeped, and you saw the bandits closing in.
Breaking a hard right, you made your way in the direction of the bandits while no one was looking. You knew you were on their radar, you wanted to give the others time to bug out.
Everyone was convincing Rooster not to turn back, and the further away you got from the group, the fuzzier the connection got.
“Dagger Two is hit,” those words came through loud and clear, and they hit you like a pile of bricks.
Rooster was dead.
Within seconds, everyone that you had to live for was gone, and you weren’t sad. You were angry. With a shaky hand, you reached up and turned off your signal. You were about to make Hangman’s words a reality.
“Give ‘em hell.”
*****
Sure enough, you had four bandits in the vicinity, not just the two. One pair broke off to address the little blip on their radar. The little blip was currently flying low through the canyon, you pulled up when there was a free space from SAMs. Gunning the bottom of the first plane, you took him out before they knew you were there.
The second plane was blown up before he got the chance to spot you.
This was the side of you none of the other pilots had seen, you were the bringer of death. Another bandit popped up on your screen, taking off from the air base, and you made your way around to them.
What you did not expect was a dogfight between an enemy plane and an F-14.
Were they not on the same side?
It clicked as soon as you saw the museum piece. Quickly, you tuned your radio as fast as you could until you heard their voices.
“Someone’s behind us, Mav! We got another one coming up on our tail on the radar!” Rooster shouted.
“Smoke in the air!” Maverick shouted, turning the F-14 into a hard right. He had intended for you to fly right past him, unable to shoot him. But that gave him the window you needed.
Neither of the men expected the F/A-18 to fly right out from under them, blowing the enemy into a million pieces, but there you were.
“Holy shit!” Maverick actually yelped in surprise, and you were gone from their vision as quickly as you had arrived there. You slowed your speed, and turned around to meet the men who had given you a heart attack an hour prior.
“Zip?!” they both called, confused as hell.
“Why aren’t you back on the carrier?!” Maverick demanded.
“W–.. hy aRE YOU BOTH D– UMB?!” your voice crackled through the headset, as you pulled up next to them. Rooster was in the back seat, and gave you a little wave.
“I don’t think we can answer that,” Maverick shook his head, and you shook your head.
“Get your asses back to the carrier, I am running low on ammunition, and I know you’re out too,” you ordered, and both men saluted you.
In formation, the two flew out into the open water. That's when you saw him.
“Where is he? I don’t see him!” Rooster was looking around.
“He’s right on our nose,” you said quietly. Suddenly, there was more smoke in the air, the two planes breaking and sending flares. The plane zipped right by and you dropped your last missile, which was killed off by flares.
The sound of Maverick and Rooster shouting over the ejection handle filled your headset, and you knew that you were going to throw yourself in their way if you had to.
Hangman was less than perfect, but his timing was impeccable.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables in their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing,” you could have kissed him you were so happy. You wouldn’t, but it’s the thought that counts.
“Hey, Hangman,” Rooster greeted, “you look good.”
“I am good, Rooster,” he cheered, looking over at you, “I am very good.”
The three of you made your way back to the carrier, Hangman landing first. Both you and Maverick made a definitely illegal pass, buzzing the tower. Then it was your turn to land.
As soon as both men were safe on the ground, they were swarmed with cheering people. You were struggling to make it through the ground, and Hangman gripped your arm, leading you through. Grabbing Maverick first, you hugged the old man, glad he was okay. Then you turned to Bradley, hugging him as tight as you could.
“I love you, Gale,” he whispered in your ear. Smiling, you decided you liked the way your name sounded coming from him. Letting him go, he turned to Maverick and they celebrated the fact that they were alive.
Things may not change overnight, but a deadly dogfight will do it, I suppose.
You clapped Maverick on the back, and you noticed a flash in your right eye, from the photo that had been taken.
*****
Five years later, you sat at your office desk in your house. The picture sat in a nice black frame. In it, you were grinning, your hand on Maverick’s shoulder, the two of you facing Bradley, who was shaking Mav’s hand, his smile brighter than the sun. The three of you looked like you needed a shower. You held the small frame in your hands.
The floor creaked behind you, and you turned to see Bradley in the doorway, a soft smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. You were both very excited for today.
“Well, Mrs. Bradshaw, are we ready to hit the road?” he asked you.
“I will be ready in just a few minutes, Captain Bradshaw,” you replied, teasing each other with your new honorifics, standing to kiss your husband.
Walking down the hall of your house, you caught sight of your reflection in a mirror. These days, you barely recognized yourself in the best way. The bags under your eyes were mostly gone, your hair was healthier, and you had the glow of a healthy human being about you. You had cut down on your alcohol intake, and decided to go and give therapy a shot at Bradley’s insistence. You even had a pair of shorts on, no longer afraid to hide the scars that told the story of your passion. It did you a world of good, and now you were opening a brand new chapter in your life that you couldn’t wait for. You just had to share the news with one last person.
Half an hour later, you pulled up to the Hard Deck, long before it opened. Penny was inside, and you and Bradley greeted her warmly. She called out for Maverick, who opened the kitchen door and smiled at the two of you. Bradley had made you human again, but Maverick had brought you back to where you belonged. You gave the older man a nice big hug before you looked over at Bradley who was chatting with Penny.
“Retirement doesn’t suit you, Mav,” you poked, and he chuckled softly.
“I know,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter, “I feel like I need something to do.”
“How about flight school?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. He stopped and blinked at you for a few seconds.
“Zip... I think I’m a little overqualified to go back to flight school again…” he answered slowly. That’s when you presented him with the orange 11"x8.5" envelope in your hands.
Eyeing you suspiciously, and looking over at Bradley who came up to stand next to his wife, he began to open the file. He froze when he read the papers you had included.
“The Nicholas Bradshaw School of Aviaton,” he read softly, and you could see the tears forming in his eyes. Your own lip trembled slightly, finally happy to share your project with Maverick.
“There was an empty hangar for sale about forty five minutes from here,” you laughed softly, your voice cracking. Bradley rubbed your back, tears in his own eyes. You had surprised him as well prior to this meeting, and the fact that his wife wanted to open a flight school in his fathers honor made his heart burst.
“Mav, we would really love it if you would teach there with Zip,” Bradley said, “only if you want to bu–” he was cut off by Maverick all but tackling his wife into a hug.
“I’ll do it,” he murmured, his voice muffled into your hair, and you laughed.
He pulled back from you, and Bradley was his next victim. The four of you celebrated all night, after you put up flyers for the official grand opening around the bar.
Not once before this moment have you been so happy.
*****
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#rooster x reader#rooster#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#top gun x reader#topgunmaverick#top gun
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Fables & Falsehoods
Book: Blades of Light and Shadow
Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine & Kade
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Fantasy violence, blood, depictions of scarring/injury.
Length: 4.7k
Summary: Alternate timeline where Kade was shadow-scarred during the fight against the Dreadlord.
Tags: @lawrencebarkley @watatsumi-island @choicesficwriterscreations
A/N: This turned out wayy longer than expected 😅 For maximum emotional damage also read this fic.
It was morning when Raine set off towards the outskirts of Riverbend, with a light mist still hovering over the hills and the sky a pale shade of daffodil yellow as she followed the river upstream to the wild meadows.
The young girl crouched with her basket in hand as she found a patch of blue chamomile flowers, ignoring how the pollen made her sensitive nose itch while she recalled the instructions the farmer had given her.
Harvest them during early morning, when the dew has evaporated but before the sun is fully shining.
Their scent was reminiscent of the sweet hay kept in the village stables, and she took great care to gently remove the flower heads without damaging the stems before she placed them delicately in the basket.
Once she had collected enough and the sun was higher in the sky, she stood and followed the dirt path back to the village, with her basket bumping against the side of her leg as she went.
She skipped up to the old wooden cottage she and Kade lived in with the farmer, and left the basket on the table near the fireplace so he could use the flowers to make tea, having been unable to collect them himself in his older age.
When it was ready, she tentatively carried the mug to the small room they shared. Inside, Kade’s slight frame laid in bed shaking from fever, his limbs occasionally wracked with tremors as he coughed.
“Kade,” she whispered, unsure if he was asleep. When he stirred and opened his eyes, she sat down beside him. “I brought you tea.”
She helped him sit up enough to lean against the bed frame, and looked inside the mug where the drink had been infused with golden honey that shimmered and swirled within like liquified sunlight. It looked magical, and that gave the young girl enough hope in her heart that it could heal him.
Raine lifted the mug to his mouth so he could take a sip, only six years old and too weak to hold it on his own.
“It’s made with flowers!” She explained. “I found a whole field so I’ll pick some more tomorrow. The farmer said using them in this tea will help you feel better.”
Her expression filled with worry. “It is working, right?”
“Tastes good,” he murmured before glancing back down at the mug. “I’m drinking flowers?”
She giggled and placed the empty mug on the bedside table when he was finished. Kade sighed and laid his head back down on the pillow, and just when Raine thought he was going to fall back asleep, he opened his eyes once more. “Can you read me a story?”
“Which one?” She asked.
“The one about the dragon.”
She picked up the book he was referring to and sat close enough for him to see the penciled illustrations. “Once upon a time, at the top of a great mountain peak, there was a dragon of light whose scales shone brighter than any jewel…”
As she continued to read, dark clouds began to gather outside and her voice was soon accompanied by the soft pattering of light rainfall.
“…The nearby villagers feared for their safety and so they shot the dragon out of the sky, but they didn’t know it had been defending something. Not a hoard of gold but something far more precious, a shimmering egg that now sat alone in the darkened cave.”
When she glanced back up, Kade was fast asleep and raindrops trickled slowly down the window pane. She closed the book and traced a finger along the cover, where the dragon’s scales reflected the sky with an opalescent sheen that caused rainbows to ripple across its large body.
With a yawn, she put the book away and crawled into her own bed, and as she drifted off to sleep her head was filled with dreams of someday crossing paths with a dragon for herself.
A few years later, they were playing in an old stable where the worn grey bricks of the exterior were lined with moss, and eating berries they had collected from the nearby woods. Kade had recovered from his illness, but the elderly farmer had sadly passed and now it was just the two of them on their own.
“It’s broken!”
“What is?”
“My bow!”
Raine sat among the straw as she frustratedly tried to fix it. Although the stable had not been used for years and the outside looked uninviting, it was surprisingly warm within and filled with large bales of hay that were perfect for hiding and climbing.
She frowned when her attempts were to no avail. It was only a toy made of fragile wood, but the bowstring had snapped and she had no means of repairing it by herself.
“Every great adventurer needs a weapon, Kade!” She sighed. “And mine’s busted.”
“What about my slingshot?” He asked, holding up the one he’d crafted out of twigs that morning after seeing a drawing in one of his books.
She looked at it doubtfully. “That’s okay, you can keep it.”
“But slingshots make great weapons, look!” He picked up one of the berries and placed it in the sling before firing, and it hit Raine directly in the forehead before falling to the ground and leaving a small purple juice stain marked on her skin.
“Hey!” She rubbed her head with her forearm. “I’ll get you for that!”
As she glanced around the stable looking for something to help enact her revenge, she found a dark piece of wood sticking out from one of the straw piles. When she lifted it she saw it was a small toy sword, carved roughly but still intact despite being in the old building for years.
“I found one!” She said, her payback forgotten as she and Kade studied the sword.
“A fine weapon.” He nodded with approval. “It will aid you well on your quest.”
Raine giggled. “What’s my quest?”
He turned and pointed to the highest hay bale in the room. “Climb the great mountain and defeat the beast that lurks there!”
She leapt up onto the lowest pile, adjusting her footing as she climbed higher. She was almost at the top when she slipped and nearly fell, and a few loose strands of straw drifted to the ground. “Woah!”
“You can do it!” Kade cheered from the bottom.
With one final haul, she pulled herself up to the top and triumphantly waved her sword in the air. “I did it! I slayed the beast!”
“I knew you could!” He clapped as she sat there for a moment to catch her breath while her mind wandered off in deep thought, a look of immense concern on her features that looked unusual for the young girl.
“Kade, do you…” She said slowly before trailing off. “…Do you think even heroes get scared?”
“Of course. I know if I had to fight a massive dragon I’d be scared.”
“Then how do they do it?”
He was silent for a moment. “Because they care more about doing what’s right.”
Raine grinned, her eyes sparkling. “You’re such a goody-goody.” Then she brandished the sword at him and leapt from the hay bale, tackling him to the ground where they both collapsed into a pile of laughter.
Above their resounding joy, Raine heard a creak and looked up in time to see one of the large wooden beams from the ceiling swing and come falling down straight towards them.
With a squeal and a hard shove, she pushed Kade out of the way and rolled to the side just moments before it crashed to the ground, sending straw flying.
She sat up dazed and with a few pieces in her hair, and Kade helped her back onto her feet.
“That was too close,” he said.
She nodded in agreement. “I’m not sure we should play here anymore…”
“What would’ve happened if it fell on us?” He asked.
“Well, you’d probably have gotten a concussion at least.” Raine answered. “And you don’t need another one of those.”
Kade shuddered as they both remembered the time he’d been hanging upside down from a tree branch near the riverbank, and how he said he “wanted to know how bats slept that way” before he fell and landed on his head.
She laughed at his expression. “Come on, no more old buildings for a while. Or trees. If we’re not careful we’ll run out of places to play.”
He sighed. “The fields it is, then.”
“Race you there!” Raine said, and he was quick to follow, but both of them were too distracted to notice the wooden sword lying on the ground forgotten once more.
Time seemed to move forward in a blurred whirlwind after that, from the carefree joys of childhood to helplessly watching Kade get trapped in the Onyx Shard and the long, arduous journey it had taken to rescue him.
She had seen all the beautiful and treacherous places of the world in that time. The sun setting across the ocean at Port Parnassus, the glittering city of Undermount, even a place as harsh and nightmarish as the Deadwood held its own secret places of wonder.
Although she savoured every moment of the adventure, there was still a hollow ache through it all that reminded her they were supposed to be by each other’s side. He was the only family member she had left after what had happened to the farmer and her parents, and she couldn’t lose him too.
Her determination to save him ignited an ember in her heart, one that carried her onward through every challenge they faced along the way, no matter how perilous. One that led them all directly into the realm of shadow, a twisted land of darkness no one had ever returned from and to face an enemy proclaimed impossible to defeat.
For a brief moment, all of the danger lurking ahead was forgotten and the pain they had been through was worth it when she was finally able to save Kade. His weakened frame sat in a cold, lonely cell, bruised and beaten but alive, and seeing him alive was what had mattered to her the most.
Their quest led them to a chamber of ash and smoke, where the Dreadlord rose from his tomb while possessing the body of their friend, wearing her skin like a ghost and controlling her movements as a puppet with strings woven of shadow and malice.
Soldiers swarmed them like an oncoming tide of darkness, with magic rising and falling in turbulent waves and weapons that surged and clashed mid-air. Through it all, she could feel her strength waning.
With every soldier that fell a new row appeared, and she fought until she was wounded and bleeding, until her whole body felt like it was made of lead as she struggled to take each step.
The ember that had carried her so far began to fade out when her legs could no longer hold her upright, and she sunk to her knees, too weakened to fight any longer. She had used up all her strength on this journey, only to run out right on the threshold when she needed it the most.
“And here I thought you’d be more willing to put up a fight.” The Dreadlord spoke with a voice tainted by dust and rot, hovering above her as an omen of death. “How pathetic.”
It used Nia’s hand to summon a jagged lance of weaponised darkness, pointed and aimed straight for her heart. “Now you will meet your end.”
Raine’s body slumped forward as the lance soared through the air and she braced herself for the final hit, eyes closed as she expelled her last breath.
It never came.
She looked up to see a figure standing in front of her, with the lance meant to kill her piercing clean through his right side.
“Kade!” She screamed, and his fingers trembled as he reached for the wound, dark blood seeping across his hand as shadow slowly began to spread throughout his body.
Even in this state, he still managed a weak smile.
He was always smiling, she remembered. While bedridden as a child, running through the woods, and playing songs at the tavern. His optimism even under such dire circumstances throughout their lives often made her think he was more of a hero than she was.
She knew it to be the truth.
“You…always saved me.” His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, and tears welled in Raine’s eyes before spilling down her cheeks. “Now it’s my turn…to save you.”
He swayed on his feet and she rushed to catch him in her arms before lowering him to the stone ground. “No, no.” She whispered. “Not again.”
His eyes fluttered closed as his breathing grew shallow, and she reached for his bloodied hand. “Kade, I…I can’t lose you again.” Panicked desperation took hold as she uttered a silent plea. “Please.”
He stirred for a brief moment before using all his remaining strength to open his eyes once more. “Leave me…Get to Nia.” He let out a painful sounding cough as blood dripped down his chin. “Be the hero I…know you are.”
With a strangled sob, she hauled herself to her feet with her weapon in hand. The rest of the battle passed in a blur, from wielding the Blade of Light to opening a portal back to Whitetower, all that mattered was ensuring her brother’s safety.
She called for a healer and helplessly watched his body be carried away, knowing that if she had just been able to hold on a little longer she could have prevented the worst of it.
He was too injured to attend the medaling ceremony, but Nia assured her that he was recovering. That he was talking and laughing with the healers when he wasn’t asleep, and although the shadow scarring would be permanent, he was going to be okay, and that was what mattered the most.
Raine took a deep breath as she gazed around the city, at everyone they had worked so hard to save. It might take a while but she hoped that maybe, someday, it would all be okay.
Kade wasn’t there when she was taken.
He was still recovering from his injuries, warring with the shadow while under the constant attention of the palace healers. The last time he had seen Raine was late afternoon when she came to visit, telling him she was going to the palace terrace to celebrate the Dreadlord’s defeat with a victory toast.
“Bring back a drink for me?” He asked, grinning.
“Of course,” she laughed, before turning her back as she walked out the door, and he picked up one of the large books she’d bought for him at the festival. He knew she still felt guilty, but hadn’t yet had the chance to reassure her that he didn’t regret taking the lance in her stead and that he would do it again if he must, even though he knew she would disapprove.
He was still reading when her companions barged into the room in a frantic hurry a few hours later, and he panicked when he saw she wasn’t among them. “What’s going on?” He asked, and everyone started speaking all at once.
“They took her,” Tyril scowled. “Back to the Shadow Realm.”
“A portal opened on the terrace and their army swarmed through.” Mal said.
“We weren’t strong enough to fight them.” Nia frowned, and Kade used all his strength to push himself from the bed, even though his body burned in protest.
“Kade, your leg-” The healer tried to warn him but he gritted his teeth as he leant against the wall, ignoring the sharp pain pulsing in his leg until it was too much to bear. “I have to…have to find her.” His eyes almost rolled back as he began to collapse and Imtura lifted him back over to the bed.
“You won’t be able to save her if you make yourself worse.” She said, helping him sit back down.
“We have to get her back.” Kade said, looking determinedly at the group before realising none of them had any answers, their expressions looking as hopeless as he felt. “How do we get her back?”
He wished he had been there, but he knew that even if he had, there wasn’t anything he could have done. He wasn’t a fighter or a mage, he couldn’t hold his own in a proper fight and he felt out of his depth and as helpless as he had been when he was a sickly child.
King Arlan permitted them access to the Royal Archives, and since Kade wasn’t in a state to go there himself he insisted they bring their findings back to him, and as weeks went by his room ended up a mess of scattered books and old scrolls where everyone gathered to share their resources.
As he slowly recovered he was able to visit the archives more frequently, being offered a position as the head archivist that he hoped would give him the information he needed to save Raine.
For a short while he performed at the taverns in Whitetower, always having found solace in music throughout his life. But the songs he sang of legendary heroes felt like a mockery, and the strings of his lute only strummed empty taunts that reminded him he could be doing more, that he should be doing more to find her.
Then came the day when the others decided the archives didn’t hold the answers they needed. They decided to set off to search the realms instead, and he had wanted to go with them but knew it was for the best if he stayed at the palace.
Someone needed to be there if she returned, he told himself, but it felt more like an unconvincing reminder he could still be helpful, that there were hundreds of books still unread that may yet reveal some small glimpse of hope and a way to bring her back.
The others patted him on the shoulder, telling him they would do everything they could to help save her and that they would be fine if he stayed. Kade promised them they were all welcome back in Whitetower and that they could use the archives at any time in the future again if necessary.
It was all he could offer.
And yet he knew it wasn’t enough.
Raine’s return was not a forgettable display for those who had witnessed it.
The guards were going about their usual business when a portal appeared, a vibrant shade of electric purple that crackled with energy before a figure flew through, as though she had tumbled through a storm and right into the palace throne room.
“I need to…see the king and his advisors.” She wheezed. “It’s…important.” Her vision began to flicker as she knelt on the cold, marble floor and before she knew what was happening, she found herself being pulled from the ground and into a pair of familiar arms.
“Raine, you’re…you’re really-” Kade’s voice sounded disbelieved, and although she returned the hug, she leaned back when his hands trembled and more people began to gather nearby.
“I’m…glad to see you too, but what’s going on?”
Kade shook his head as though he still couldn’t believe his eyes. “Raine, you’ve been gone for a year.”
“What?” Her voice barely came out as a whisper as the world began to sway around her. “What do you mean a year?”
Part of her wanted to believe it was some sort of joke, though a glance at his healed wounds and more polished outfit suggested that surely some time had passed, but a year sounded impossible.
Some of the shadow spread across his face had receded slightly, leaving scarred cracks across the skin, but it wasn’t healed. Nia said it would never be fully healed, but he did look healthier. He was standing upright now that his leg had recovered and he wore that same old mischievous grin on his face, all too familiar to her after years of causing trouble.
His right eye looked better too, almost swollen shut when she had seen him last but now fully vibrant, although the iris had been permanently changed from grey to amber.
“Kade, that’s…” She frowned. “That’s not possible.” She knew it was the truth based on what she had seen, but she didn’t want to have to believe it.
“I wish that was the case,” he sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s talk about this somewhere else.”
Having multiple swords pointed in her direction wasn’t exactly how she imagined her return would play out, but was also the least of her concerns as Kade waved the guards down and led her to the indoor gardens away from the commotion that had begun to stir.
She sat down on the fountain’s edge, surrounded by flowering bushes as the water trickled slowly, too serene of a setting for the tumultuous wave of emotions crashing inside her.
“What happened while I was gone?” She asked.
He looked down for a moment, as though even the memory caused himself pain. “After you were taken, we spent weeks trying to find a way to get you back. When that didn’t work, the others went to search elsewhere. I was offered a job in the Royal Archives and I took it because…” he trailed off for a moment, uncertain, “because it was the only way I could help bring you back.”
Under normal circumstances he was sure she would have teased him about being appointed head archivist, that she would have been thrilled for him working in the palace of all places and surrounded by books all day as he’d always dreamed. Instead she was unusually quiet, glancing at her hands for a long time before she finally spoke.
“Everything is different now, isn’t it?” Her voice carried a solemness even she couldn’t quite place. She felt like a ghost brought back from the dead at his side, feeling alone in a world that seemed to just move on in her absence, a world where everything had changed.
“Nothing has changed,” he tried to reassure her, but they both knew it was a lie.
She looked at his arm, where the shadow marred and twisted his flesh. “Gods, Kade, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, I don’t regret it. Not when it saved you.” He frowned as her gaze shifted to the floor. All their lives they had been inseparable, having always been side by side up until Kade had gotten trapped inside the Onyx Shard.
Ever since then it seemed like they were set on opposite sides of the same path, and it felt as though a series of cracks had begun to form between them, like fragile glass on the verge of shattering apart.
“I wasn’t like the others,” he spoke slowly, his voice low. “I didn’t want a hero, I just needed my sister back.”
Raine took a deep breath, trying to maintain her rising nerves. “I didn’t exactly ask to be trapped there, you know.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He took her arm, but she gently shrugged him away.
“Look,” she sighed, glancing out the ornate stained glass window before dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s getting late. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
He gave a brief nod. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. I won’t get in your way.”
“Kade…” She shook her head. “Goodnight.” Her tone felt distant but she still took care to place her hand on his uninjured shoulder, giving him a half-hearted smile although she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes.
“…Goodnight.” Kade whispered, and as she walked away they could both feel the cracks between them only growing deeper.
The next morning, the sun was rising over Whitetower and the palace was the first part of the city to awaken as its light painted the turrets a brilliant shade of gold, making the scarlet spires resemble rubies amongst the regal splendour of dawn.
Raine was making her final preparations at the castle entrance, tacking up a horse from the royal stables with a white mane that cascaded like snowfall when Kade ran towards her.
“Raine! I’ve been looking all over the palace for you!” He reached her side with evident relief on his features before confusion set in as he glanced at the horse. “Where are you going?”
“I have to gather the others,” she said firmly as she adjusted the leather bridle. “The Ash Empire is on their way and we need to stop them before-”
“You’re leaving?” The disbelief in his tone made her movements halt and look at him properly, seeing a flicker of betrayal in his gaze that only further stirred her remorse. “Raine, I just got you back.”
“I have to, Kade, I-”
“Why do you always have to be the one who saves everybody?”
Her pause was brief before she turned her attention back to the horse, and any softness in her voice had faded. “This is my fault, I’m the only person who can fix it.”
“You don’t have to do this just because you think you failed me.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Because you look at me and all you see is guilt.” She stilled, her fingers trembling along the reigns, and they both knew deep down that it was true. “You’re scared of me because you think…you think I’m one of them.”
Dark images of the Shadow Court flashed through her mind, with sinister smiles and shadow pulsing through their veins, and she vehemently shook her head. “No, Kade, I could never-”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to blame yourself, but you need to know I did it to save you, not so you could go putting yourself in danger again.”
“You know the risks at stake! Do you want me to just stand by and do nothing?”
“I never asked for any of this! I went to the temple with you so you could have the adventure you’d always dreamed about, and look where that got us. Do you think being tortured in the shadow realm is what I wanted?”
“Of course not!” She snapped, all her guilt and frustration rushing to the surface. “You know I would have prevented you from getting trapped there if I could, but I can’t do anything to change that. All I can do is try to make up for it.”
“And you think the best way to do that is by risking your life?”
“If the Ash Empire finds a way to the Light Realm they’ll destroy everything. I’m doing what’s best for us!”
His expression turned stormy, a dark contrast to his normally cheerful self, and one that made her blood run cold. “And how would you know what’s best for us? You weren’t even here!”
As soon as the words came out he wished he could take them back.
For her, it felt as though a knife had been cleaved through her chest, severing her clean in half and leaving her to shatter into a thousand pieces. She recognised the constriction forming in the base of her throat and the familiar sting of tears that threatened to spill before she pushed the feelings down, away.
“Raine, I didn’t mean-”
The wave of emotion froze over like a river in winter, and Raine was silent for a long moment before her eyes turned cold. When she spoke, her voice didn’t carry its usual warmth, but was instead flat and harsh like ice.
“I worked my ass off travelling across the continent to find a way to save you when I didn’t even know if it was possible, and I come back just to learn you’ve spent a year playing librarian?” Her tone was deathly still as she turned on her heel, barely sparing a sharp glance over her shoulder. “I thought you would have done the same for me.”
Before Kade could even utter an apology, she mounted the horse in one swift movement and took off, leaving him alone with regret festering in his heart as the coloured banners above swayed in an empty breeze.
Further south near the forests surrounding Riverbend, an ominous shadow was cast on the ground far larger than any cloud as a great beast soared overhead, the beating of its wings like the rolling of distant thunder.
And somewhere in an old stable, a wooden toy sword laid, burning.
#cfwc fics of the week#choices fic writers creations#blades of light and shadow#playchoices#playchoices fanfic#choices stories you play#raine nightbloom#kade#kade of riverbend
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my little girl (j.h.)
a/n: this is really short, i am so sorry. hopefully it's good, i was desensitizing myself to the song again (a yearly occurrence bc i bawl like a baby when i hear it). also, i aged the reader up to be an older teen starting university. i felt like it would make a better plotline, but the reader has a canonically late-year birthday (december) so she is seventeen. hope you don't mind lovely!
ps, i am trying a new format. we'll see if i like it...
fandom: stranger things | pairing: jim hopper x fem!teen!daughter!reader (father/daughter)
requested by the lovely @sunnysidesadie (hope you enjoy it💛!)
synopsis: visiting her old cabin when she misses her dad is normal for y/n. what isn't is her supposedly dead dad suddenly showing up. | based on this song by tim mcgraw (i grew up on country music, don't judge me) that always makes me cry so... | au where vecna stuff happens at another time
taglist: @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @badass-yn | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!
warnings: grief mentioned | (believed to be) dead father | emotional? | not being able to trust things
navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up
- not my gif -
Standing in the ruins of her father’s cabin, Y/N’s chest ached. She often came here, ever since that day last summer. It looked the exact same as it did that night - a shell of a once lively house. Even if this wasn’t the home he raised her in, it was the cabin they made a home in such a short period of time. The Mind Flayer had ruined it, only the walls left standing. Everything else smashed and broken, even possession.
The sting of tears made Y/N’s eyes feel like they were burning out of her head. The Mind Flayer took her home, but the Russians took her father. In their greed to become the most feared country, they ripped the one thing Y/N loved the most from her. The one thing that she had in her life that was constant was gone. Sure, Jim Hopper was battling his demons, drinking, a bit aggressive in his parenting tactics, and a horrible communicator, but he was her father. He loved her with every fibre of his being.
Swallowing thickly, she spied a broken picture frame sticking out of the ruins, most likely from the wind pushing it around overtime. Slowly walking towards it, Y/N felt the old floor shifting under her. Soon, it wasn’t going to be safe to stand here. She feared that day. The bit of cabin was the only thing she had left of her father. He had sold their home when they had to protect El. Their prized possessions and keepsakes were either damaged or pillaged by teens who stumbled upon the empty cabin before they could finish off the Mind Flayer.
Bending down, she grabbed the picture, wiping off the dirt. It was her father and her. She was six, in a horribly itchy red and green dress. It was her elementary school Christmas Recital. She had on bright tights and a pair of shiny black shoes. Her grandmother had helped him dress her that time. Usually, for this recital, he would have put her in a green dress with her pink ballet tights. After that year, he had stuck to the same colour palette. Smiling down fondly at the picture, she couldn’t help but let a tear slip. “I miss you. So much,” She whispered, eyes squeezed closed. “I think you’d be proud of me, Dad,” She swallowed the hard ball that was forming in her throat, trying to ignore how her heart felt like it was being ripped in half. “I’m taking on this whole world. Just like you always told me to.”
Y/N stood there, looking in her full length mirror. It was her first day of senior year, it had to be perfect. Her shaking hands brushed over her outfit for the sixth time in that minute. Humming, she shuffled to the side, inspecting the outfit she had picked out last night for any flaw, turning up with nothing. However, she couldn’t find anything great about the outfit either. Light blue coloured mom jeans (brand new so fitting perfectly), converse, and a dark green mock neck sweater. There was nothing bad but nothing particularly amazing about the outfit. “Y/N, hurry up and eat your breakfast before you run out the door saying you’re too busy to eat.” Her dad told her, his voice nearing her partially open door.
“Coming.” She told him, but she didn’t move from her spot in front of the mirror. In the reflection, she saw her door being pushed open and her father appeared, clad in his brown uniform, his had noticeably missing.
“Y/N, I told you already, your outfit looks fine. I want you to eat before you leave,” He reminded her. Despite his gruff and aggressive appearance, her father’s words were spoken with a sense of softness. She sighed, slumping her shoulders as she turned away from the mirror. His brown eyes watched her. He was dense with the whole girl dad thing. It wasn’t easy trying to understand them, but he tried. Which is why he stepped into the room further, pushing the door closed behind him. “What’s going on? It’s gotta be more than worrying about your outfit.”
He sat on her bed seconds before she joined him. “I don’t know. My life is changing, should I really be wearing the same clothes I wear every first day?”
“What are you talking about,” He questioned, brows furrowed as he looked at her outfit. “Those pants and the shirt are all new. You’ve never worn them before.” She laughed at this, which wasn’t his intention, but he couldn’t help but smile and feel his heart melting.
“Not the clothes, but the style. I’m graduating, my life is completely flipped upside down after this year, but here I am dressing the exact same way and doing my hair the exact same way, going to the exact same school to hang out with the exact same people,” She muttered, feeling stupid about her worries. “I don’t know,” She shrugged. “It’s scary and I don’t think I am ready for it.” She confessed, her eyes finally looking up at her. The same exact eyes looked back at her. Everybody said that she had her father’s eyes.
Her father sighed in understanding, smiling sadly down at her. “If anyone isn’t ready for you to graduate, it’s me. I mean, one second I am dropping you off at kindergarten then all of a sudden, you’re sixteen getting ready for your senior year,” He informed her, nudging her shoulder with his arm, making her laugh. She hated being so much younger than her classmates, but she was starting senior year as a sixteen year old, turning seventeen in December. He had to fight the sadness filling him, knowing his daughter is growing up, because she needed him to be her rock. She needed him to be her cheerleader. “Never in my mind did I ever think you weren’t ready. You are going to take on this whole wide world, chasing your dreams,” He suddenly turned serious. “And I will be here, cheering you on because you’re always going to be my little girl. And just know, as long as you know the road that takes you home again, I will be here for you.”
“Just the road? That’s the only way you’ll be there for me?” She asked. Hopper looked at her, ready to get mad that she took it like he wasn’t going to be there for her, but that crooked little smile played on her lips - the same crooked little smile she wore when she was a kid whenever she did anything she wasn’t supposed to. Instantly, his anger and his naturally icy heart was melting, just like it always did and just like it always will.
“Real smart, you little ass,” He laughed, making her join in on the laughter. “Now, I still want you to eat, but I would rather you not drive like a maniac trying to get to school in time so I will put a few more snacks on the counter for you to stuff in your bag on your way out. I’ll add some change to it so you can get a drink at lunch,” He informed her as he stood up, walking out the door. “Have a great day, Pumpkin. I love you. So much.” He told her, he couldn’t put how much he loved her into words - he wasn’t good at emotions and sappy stuff, but he was confident she was sure how much he loved her, even if she didn’t realise he loved her more than anything.
“I love you more.” She said back and he was instantly reminded of everytime she said that exact thing to him in the past. From the time she could speak to that moment. For a second, he wanted her to be that toothless seven year old cuddling her teddy bear as he tucked her in again.
“I hope you would be proud of me,” She added in as her eyes slowly blinked open. “I am kinda taking on the world by myself at the moment-”
“And I’m sure you’re taking the world by storm despite that.” A voice scared her, making her whirl around, the picture frame clutched to her chest as her heart tried to run out of her chest. There he stood. Shaved head, bruises, and a crooked smile - the same one she wore when she got in trouble.
“Dad?” She breathed out, eyes wide. Was it a ghost? Was it her mind playing horrible tricks? What a cruel joke the universe was playing on her if the man standing before her in clothes that were obviously not his was all her imagination. Tentatively, she stepped towards him as he stood on the ground, through the damaged front door that was nearly off its hinges completely.
The man (or product of her grief) nodded. “It’s me, Pumpkin. For real.” He reassured her. He knew she was reluctant, not wanting to get her hopes up. The reality of the Upside Down has put them through hell and back. It was hard to trust anything the universe gave them. Win the lottery? Are they sure it wasn’t just a cruel trick the Upside Down conceived to put them through more hell? Supposedly dead father standing before you? Was Y/N sure it wasn’t secretly some sort of shape shifting creature set to destroy El?
She walked a few more steps, finally reaching the door frame. Hopper stayed in one spot, but now Y/N could see the people gathered off to the side, giving the father and daughter space. Joyce and Murray stood in the treeline, giving Y/N nods of reassurance. “Dad!” She broke into a smile, her heart delighted. She was too overcome with happiness to even think about questioning how he was standing there if he was dead.
The photo slipped from her grasp as she ran from the doorway, all the way down the rickety old steps. Arms out, she nearly tackled her father, hot tears streaming down her face as she actually felt the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her. He was real. He was here. His heart was beating. She could feel it hitting his chest. She could hear it as she pressed her ear against his chest, nearly squeezing the life out of him, “So you know the road that leads you home after all, even without me here, huh?” Hopper asked, the tearful chuckle rolling through his large form.
Pulling her head from his chest, her arms still attached to him like a little girl who is scared. She kind of was a little girl scared that her father would disappear if she let him go. “Huh?”
“You’re here. You came here all the way from West Lafayette. You knew the way home when you needed me. You did exactly what I told you that morning,” He took in her confused expression. “Joyce told me you chose Purdue. Smart girl, they did offer you a full-ride. Wish I could have been there to see your first day.”
“I wish you could have been there too, Dad.” She admitted, squeezing him in a hug again.
“Part of me doesn’t want to let you go back. Sometimes I wish I could just have a pause button so you would stop growing up. I would have paused it until I escaped the Russian base.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as tears started to fall from his eyes. Y/N was too overwhelmed to actually process that little bit of information, hoping to remember to ask him about it later. Joyce and Murray shared a look. This was a side of Hopper nobody saw. He was vulnerable. He was speaking in ways they didn’t think possible.
“No matter what happens, Dad,” Y/N pulled away from the hug slightly. “I’m always going to be your little girl. Me believing you were dead while you were really just a prisoner in a forgein country for so many months isn’t going to change that.” She joked, laughing through the tears rolling down her cheeks, the bright smile Hopper loved so much on her face.
“You’ll always be my little girl,” He repeated, pressing his lips together. “Pigtails and all in my mind.” He smiled as she rolled her eyes playfully at this, pushing his shoulder before embracing him yet again, still scared that he’ll disappear again.
#jim hopper request#jim hopper#jim hopper blurb#jim hopper imagine#jim hopper x daughter!reader#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things imagines#stranger things season 3 spoilers#stranger things spoilers#stranger things 3#stranger things 4#stranger things fics
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THE ART OF STARTING OVER.
a moonknight x fem!avenger! reader story
CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE FAVOR
summary: when a new masked crime fighter appears, it’s time to call an old coworker.
warnings: slight mentions of violence
word count: 2.4k
gif by @salome-c
a/n: this is somewhat a self indulgent fic that contains some non canon events/changes to the storyline of the moonknight series and to the mcu in general. i also feel it’s important to note i am not an expert on disassociative identity disorder. if there’s anything misrepresented in this work please let me know.
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there's only so much daytime television a person can take before they start to go insane.
most people would've reveled in government pension letting them live comfortably in an apartment that wasn't the size of a shoebox. some people would've been thrilled to have access to all the chinese take out that manhattan had to offer. even fewer people would've been okay with the fact that they were practically unemployed.
there's only so many soap operas and egg rolls you can consume before you start to miss the supernatural.
to miss a world where people lived in constant fear was sick and twisted in every sense of the word. people woke up every day with knots in their stomachs over the wonder of "what batshit crazy being is going to fall out of the sky today?" or "what kind of irreparable damage will i find to my car, my home, or my family?" it was no way of living, not even in anyone's wildest dreams, yet you found yourself missing it.
these days, thrill came in the form of seeing if you could outrun a red light. a feeling that used to course through your veins on the daily had compacted itself into a corner so deep you didn't know when you would see it again. something that was once quintessential had become a distant memory.
it would've been a pathetic sight to see; a former avenger cooped up in a fourth floor apartment with nothing to show for her accomplishments except a lousy medal and knarly scar that made its home down her spine. sometimes just the glint of that hunk of metal in your peripheral made you want to toss it out the window and never see it again. years of hero work watered down to a lousy thank you from the government that couldn't be bothered to really pick up the pieces of what thanos left behind.
it was a fact you faced every day, that the life you once had was gone. the people that were in it, the things that you did, were all moments, in the past tense. it wasn't just the end of a chapter, it was closing the book entirely.
there was a part of you that clung on to that time for dear life. to provide protection for people that wouldn't have otherwise had it, was a responsibility you still carried, especially now that most of the earth's greatest were gone. the weight of their legacy now fell onto your shoulders, and there wasn't a damn thing you could do to continue it.
the world outgrew the avengers, and thus the world outgrew you.
so now, your days consisted of bouncing between medical dramas and cnn, watering plants that you were certain would end up dying anyways, and trying your best to keep your head above water. sometimes you could float in the waves, and let the tide take you wherever, and other times it felt as though the undercurrent was going to drag you down. it was a never ending cycle of hope, grief, and every single emotion in between.
after rearranging the succulents on your windowsill, you plopped yourself down on the couch. there was a small dent on the cushion from where you sat far too frequently, the other side practically untouched. with your legs tucked beneath you, late afternoon sun leaking through the blinds, you scrolled aimlessly through the television channels.
the pictures had a habit of merging together into a relatively indistinguishable mix of faces, advertisements, and landscape. it was a rare occurrence for something to peak your interest, having tortured yourself with just about everything cable had to offer already. today though, there was an image that caught your attention. you frantically rushed back three channels, worrying it vanished in the ten seconds that passed since you last saw it.
photographs of the metropolitan museum of history were displayed as opposed to the news network's typical propaganda. you scooted to the edge of the couch, eyes scanning repeatedly over the headlines and the completely empty displays. as the reporter continued on about the rich history of what had been stolen, your curiosity peaked and you opened the laptop that sat atop your coffee table.
an overwhelming amount of information was presented to you with just a few clicks. there were pages upon pages of articles about not just the met heist, but the countless other museum robberies that had taken place across europe and north america. there was debate about whether or not the crimes were linked together, or if the assailants were hired by egypt's government to reclaim pieces of their history. the buzzing sensation in your chest only grew stronger as you started bookmarking tabs to review later.
history and mythology wasn't your strong suit in the slightest, but there was something about the circumstances of the situation that had you weighing some slightly irrational options. at the end of the day, thievery, especially of priceless historical items, was wrong, and more importantly, a crime. was this a shield wielding, web slinging problem? of course not. was it something that could've used a different approach than what investigators were doing?
maybe.
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the impulsive part of your brain was winning. it had been hours since the breaking news report, the soft glow of moonlight replacing the blaze of the sun, and your eyes never left that computer screen. each path you started on lead to another, burying you neck deep in police reports, an international wanted list, and a crash course video on the history of ancient egypt. there was something you were looking for; something that would tip you over the edge and plunge you in the epicenter of this whole scheme. it was a desperate tactic, scouring every corner of the web to find even the tiniest crumb that would get your any closer than the authorities, but there was a feeling in your gut that you couldn't ignore.
this was going to lead to something far deeper than what was on the surface level. gut feelings always did. when you were younger, the minute the sokovia accords were dropped on the table in front of you, the divide it would cause within the team was painfully evident in between the lines of the clauses and statutes. even before the time heist, when natasha looked at you with her sweet, optimistic smile, some part of you knew it would be the last time you would ever see her.
"whatever it takes."
that all too familiar shudder made its way through your body as her voice echoed in your mind. so much for trying to leave the past behind.
your eyes grew strained from the last few hours in front of a stark white screen, the signs of a migraine creeping into the back of your skull.
just ten more minutes, you told yourself. ten more minutes and then you would drop it. for the rest of the day at least, which by looking at the time, wasn't for much longer.
almost on cue, as your finger was hovering over the play button, the "breaking news" banner flashed across the television screen, the same perky reporter from earlier reappearing.
"we have a breaking news report for you, this time, from across the pond. london officials have confirmed that the british museum has been broken into and many artifacts from its exhibits are missing. this eerily mirrors the break in at the metropolitan museum just yesterday. now while the nypd has yet to identify any of the perpetrators involved, leaked security footage from the british museum gives us a strange new development. take a look."
four different angles of security cameras were then displayed on screen. the first thirty seconds of footage were less than exciting. after being a crime fighter for a while, men running around covered head to toe in black wasn't really groundbreaking. you were anticipating this to be another overdramatized story when suddenly the assailants came sprinting back into frame, followed by a figure dressed in all white. he left as soon as he entered, bouncing back and forth between all four scenes. it was evident he was opposing the men in black, throwing punches far too articulate for him to be an amateur. upon closer inspection, he was wearing some form of armor, unlike any super suit you had ever seen before. the voice of the reporter was drowned out by the sound of your thundering heart beat.
the gut feeling was never wrong.
rushing over to your bag to grab your phone, you thumbed through your contacts, ignoring the countless missed calls and texts from over the past few weeks. hesitantly, you pressed the call button on the ever dreaded number, the ringing sound doing nothing to soothe your growing headache.
"i was wondering when i would hear from you."
"never mind that." you pressed. pacing around your living room. "i need a favor."
there was a scoff on the other end of the line. "and what makes you think i owe you one?"
"seeing as though i've stayed out of your hair these past few weeks" you continued, returning to your position on the couch. "i would say that warrants one."
there was silence for a moment and you couldn't shake the desperation you harbored.
"fury, when have i ever asked you for anything?"
he sighed. "what do you need?"
"i take it you've been following the museum break ins, no?"
he laughed, this time genuinely. "what makes you think i have any interest in a bunch of low lifes stealing relics?"
"surely you've seen the guy with the cape on the news."
"there's lots of guys in capes on the news. ever heard of thor?"
"very funny" you deadpanned. "but i'm serious."
"i'll look into it."
it was your turn to sigh. "can you do it for me now?"
you didn't have to see his face to know he had that same resting expression he always did.
"since when do you call the shots around here?"
"since when do you ask so many questions?"
there was another pause. you shrunk back into the cushions, wondering if maybe playful banter wasn't the best approach.
"what do you want to know?"
you couldn't help the impish grin that spread across your face.
"see if you can get me the security cameras on the outside of the building."
you heard the distinct sound of fingers tapping away on a keyboard, along with a few other digital noises that likely belonged to some s.w.o.r.d super computer.
"do you still have that flash drive i sent?"
"yes sir." you replied, almost tripping on your own feet to get to the unpacked box you had stored from when you first moved into your apartment.
"when you plug it in, what's on my screen will be mirrored onto yours."
you rummaged through the box for what felt like ages before grasping the small rectangle. rushing back out to the living room, you were quick to insert it into your computer. within seconds your screen went from a paused youtube video to a shot of what you assumed was the back alley behind the british museum.
"this is about 30 minutes before the break in." fury's voice blared through the phone speaker.
the footage sped up and about halfway through, a large freight truck pulled into the back of the building. on the outside it appeared to be a delivery truck; probably what the museum was used to seeing transport the odds and ends of its gift shop offerings. instead, around ten men were ushered out of the back, leaving the delivery car wide open with a few still inside. the footage sped up again to show some of the most valuable and precious pieces of ancient history be practically manhandled and tossed into the back of the truck. there was only about two pieces that were loaded on before the masked figure from the news jumped into frame.
almost as if fury could read your mind, the camera zoned in on the white-cloaked vigilante, throwing brutal punches and what appeared to be crescent shaped darts at the burglars. despite being outnumbered, he took them out with ease. in the interim of combat, the truck managed to drive away, leaving a barrage of unconscious men on the ground. the glowing eyes of the mystery man looked around at the scene, before his suit soon dissolved from his body. while the dim lighting did little to truly showcase his face, you saw the facial recognition software run a scan.
"i take it this is what you were looking for." nick's voice knocked you out of your concentration.
your gaze was glued on the scan. "gotta start somewhere right?"
he sighed once more, but this time it was different. "look, i know it's been hard to adjust to life after everything that's gone on. but i'm telling you, this is none of your concern."
it was your turn to scoff. "most of what i've done hasn't really been my concern. i've helped save the world anyways."
"this isn't what i would call a world saving scenario."
"precisely" you quipped, heart rate increasing as the scan began its final stage.
on the other end of the line, fury ran a tired palm down his face.
"just promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"you know i don't make promises i can't keep fury."
a bunch of files began to appear before a passport photo popped up in the center. you squinted your tired eyes at the screen.
"he looks like that one guy from star wars."
you could hear fury's eye roll through the phone. "you've been spending way too much time around parker."
"what? sometimes he needs a ride home from school, what am i supposed to do, leave him on the side of the road?"
"just look at the damn files."
"okay okay!" you started. "let's see, i'm looking at a military discharge form, a termination of marriage -"
"what does his marital status have to do with anything?"
"i'm simply reading what's in front of me." you replied casually. "you got a name for me nick?"
i was getting to that" he hastily replied. a loading bar appeared on the screen, followed by a driver's license. finally, a large square popped up, zooming over the name on the id.
"marc spector."
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thanks for reading chapter one! any reblogs/ feedback is greatly appreciated :)
#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marvel#moonknight fic#marc spector oneshot#steven grant#poe dameron#star wars#steven grant one shot#steven grant x reader#moonknight one shot#marc spector fic#steven grant fic#jake lockley#jake lockely x reader#oscar issac#marvel fic#marc spector gif#steven grant gif#moonknight gif#oscar issac gif
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Hylia fans, enjoyers, critics, slanderers, folks who like Linked Universe but are mine's, Legend's and Time's spirit animals in wanting to vibe check a goddess for what she did with them and First, an idea/sleep deprived headcanon for y'all. Just an idea that will be completely obliterated by Tears of the Kingdom but hey I can dream.
Hylia, but she purposefully uses the appearance of each of the Zelda's depending on who she's dealing with, but just a bit... Off, Lullaby, but her head moves like an owl's, too bird like in nature for it to look normal (alluding to her connection to the Loftwings), Dusk, but her lips don't move when she talks, her voice booms like thunder but is as soft as a breeze, Flora, whose words feel scorching like an inferno and sitting near a crackling fire at the same time, just a bit grating but you can't help but be comforted, wanting to get close, wanting to stay close. Artemis, but her eyes are blank, not even how the Light Spirits portrayed the Interlopers in Twilight Princess, straight up no iris or pupils, because 'eyes are the window to the soul' an deities wouldn't leave theirs, if they even have any, open to anyone to use, her looking at you makes it feel as if you have just been flayed open from neck to gut, your organs on display, a bone deep cut of too much knowing, does she know it? Knows your deepest secrets? Your deepest fears and insecurities? The things you would want no one to know? Will she execute you for them or will she accept you for a it?
Just saying, if y'all don't want to go full on monstrous (though if ya ask me monstrous Hylia is PEAK), uncanny valley is always a good idea as any, maybe have her wear a bird mask to 'hide' her identity so that it gets harder to tell, make it so that her voice and speech patterns are all of rh Zelda's melded together. Remember, Hylia's form in the manga was as close to a human as she could make it probably because she didn't want to scare First/The First Hero off (because ya know, deities are basically living concepts, they can have multiple forms and usually looking at their true ones is a bad move, hence why many of them shape shift in myth), Sun/Skyward Sword Zelda is her human vessel, but who's to say after so many years from there some things wouldn't start slipping through the cracks? It's in the subtleties, the very, very subtle differences that tell anyone the Zelda's aren't human, but the vessels or something much bigger than them, something which is always on the edge of time, waiting. Watching.
Also, if we go the Tears of the Kingdom theory route, or a ghost Chain in general, I also proposed Ghost Zelda's, all of them by Flora's side, but she could only really see or talk to them after she unlocked her powers and the differences between them and Hylia is very, very obvious once you start looking at it.
Plus, if we are possibly seeing the 10.000 years ago Zelda, then I propose we just leap and see them all after so long. Or that BOTW Link/Wild also can see the 10.000 years Catalyst Hero, or the rest of the Links and/or dives into their memories for maximum emotional damage, in this essay I will-
#Summer Rambles Headcanons about Loz and LU#most likely incorrect ones#loz#linked universe#legend of zelda#legendofzelda#link#botw#breath of the wild#lu wild#goddess hylia#Hylia#lu lullaby#lu dusk#lu flora#lu artemis
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Some TF Mercy Sunder misconceptions!
Here’s a little info for people who have mostly just seen pictures of him:
Sunder has a dark spark in his chest and dark energon blood- He was originally Cybertronian, but then had a Unicronic spark put in his chest. He is called a ghoul
Sunder is alive, not undead- He has a pulse and is warm to the touch. He was dead, but he is functionally alive again unlike Terrorcon zombies. Anyone within the story who calls him undead is incorrect. He is much like us, needing to eat and sleep
Sunder is not very strong- He isn’t athletic and he runs awkwardly haha. His size can overpower many small Cybertronians, but he is wary about taking on big targets. He hunts by stealth
Sunder eats Cybertronians, needing their parts and energon- He decays constantly and needs to eat all body parts for the full “nutrition” to heal himself. He also needs energon (it doesn’t have to be blood). He prefers small wheeled Cybertronians for his health
Sunder cannot live on Cybertronian animals- just like you can’t live on crackers. He has to eat Cybertronian people or he will die of malnutrition. He can live on graveyard bodies though if he doesn’t want to kill
Sunder cannot eat a bumblepuppy, because they are not Cybertronian- They are aliens
Sunder has a normal face- I just haven’t had art made of him yet with his normal face. Sunder doesn’t always have his long teeth out, he can look like a normal TFP character with a smooth face and small mouth. Hunger, fear, and anger cause him to show his teeth so that’s why he mostly has them out until he feels relaxed. He has two sets of teeth because one is a normal set, and his tongue can also go away
Losing an eye isn’t a ghoul thing- Sunder lost his left eye when it was hit by acid. The area around it also has bad damage which is most visible the hungrier Sunder is. Sunder also has throat damage from the acid which makes him sound grittier and creepier the hungrier he is. These are the original injuries from his murder
The white light in his eye is not always on- only when he is tracking someone
Sunder is not a mnemosurgeon- mnemosurgery is not in Mercy because it would make the cortical psychic patch of TFP less important. Sunder was a nurse and therapist. His claws are simply for killing
Sunder manipulates emotions- Sunder can detect emotions and force others to feel anything. He can remove pain or cause trauma. He often uses his powers to sway people to believe anything he says aloud, such as that you cannot see him. Sunder cannot speak to anyone telepathically or see their memories. His powers are also short range
Sunder smells bad- he doesn’t bathe often and smells like Cybertronian gore. His decayed metal smells bad when he is hungry and “rotting”. If well fed and given baths, Sunder would smell a lot better, but he would still have an unusual ghouly smell. Froid is noseblind to it by now. Sunder’s drool is rancid-smelling and it burns metal. He drools quite a lot
Being licked by Sunder is unpleasant and painful
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So....This is love? (1)
Summary: (Y/n) had realized early on that the abuse he had endured through childhood had done more damage than just physical. His inability to properly express his emotions. Lacking proper social skills. On top of that, unable to maintain his friends. And for about three years in the Demon Slayer Corp, that's what he had known. And he assumed that's all he'd ever have.
Through it all though, one fire burned consistently. A leader who did nothing but care for him. And although his childhood had caused such damage, he knew that with Master Kyojuro's help....he’d begin his healing.
Genre: Romance || Angst || Action
Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Male! Reader
Rating: Rated M
A/N: Be warned there will be spoilers from the anime.
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of physical abuse, depression, self harm, attempted s*icide. Please read with caution.
"GAK!" (Y/n) cried, crumbling down on his knees as his brothers held him by his arms while their father took a step back.
"So.... Still think you're so smart now?" The older man asked, spitting on the ground.
(Y/n) lifted his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He had already been hit four times in the stomach, but that last blow felt like it broke something. Making him feel a little light headed.
Wrapped up in his pain, he couldn't even give a response.
"Speak, boy." The man warned once more, making (Y/n) gasp softly.
"n-no sir....." He cooed, shaking from fear. His father only scoffed before grabbing the male by the chin, making him look up at him.
"I will not warn you again. You speak when spoken to. You will not give your opinion because it Does. Not. Matter. Got it?" He growled, his terrible smirk growing into an equally terrible smile.
(Y/n) shut his eyes, nodding furiously. His father again scoffed, glancing at his brothers who released him upon his gaze.
"Go get some water. Clean yourself up. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day." He barked at the male, who feebly tried to raise himself onto his hands but crumbled again from the pain.
Something was terribly wrong. His father had always been violent, and he had broken more than a few bones in him in the past, thus (Y/n) recognized this feeling.
"Get. Up. And Go!" His father barked once more, swinging his leg harshly into (Y/n)'s face, making him cry out momentarily before trying to scramble to his feet.
The blow was enough to knock his vision, making him see double. A bruise had already begun to bloom. But (Y/n) couldn't fall again, or his father would strike him again. Stumbling, (Y/n) made his way around the corner of their home, grasping onto the wall for support.
Day in and day out....this is all it was.
for 16 years....this is what he endured. He never understood why out of all his siblings, he would often be punished so severely. But after so many years, the question ‘Why?’ ceased to come to his mind. Instead, he resigned himself. He hadn’t ever known anything else outside of the maple forests where he lived.
Other than the river up the mountain where he had to fetch water. Holding his ribs, the boy made his way to the empty well, placing his free hand on the stone.
‘d-damn......’ he thought to himself, feeling his dizziness settling in. So much so, he could hardly sense his younger brother coming up behind him.
“(Y/n)?” Hearing his voice made (Y/n) scowl, glancing over his shoulder at him. He had held him up while their father beat him. And yet he also was the closest thing in this so called “family” to being true to that title.
“What” (Y/n) said lowly, leaning down beside the well and grabbing two empty wooden buckets. “I-If you need help, i can go get the water. He....got you good.”
(Y/n) gave a soft, fake chuckle, trying his best to not show the actual amount of pain he was in as he did so. “It’s fine....please, go see that father takes his nap. I won’t be long.” (Y/n) replied to his brother, giving his brother somewhat of a gaze. Looking past him would be more appropriate to say.
But his brother sighed, a light cloud of smoke from the cold blowing into (Y/n)’s face. “Please be safe. I will make sure father is asleep when you return. Do you want me to sneak you some food too?” His brother asked earnestly, but (Y/n) only shook his head.
“Thank you, but i wouldn’t want father catching you sneaking me food. I’ll be fine. You go have dinner, i will be back before it gets too dark.” (Y/n) replied, raising a weak arm to pat his younger brothers head.
The younger male finally gave (Y/n) a smile before nodding, turning on his heel and walking away to the other side of the home. As soon as he was out of sight, (Y/n) switched one bucket to now be two in a single hand. His now free hand cradled his chest. With a drag in his walk, (Y/n) began his trek up the mountain.
During this time alone, it would often give (Y/n) time to think. Think about where he was and where he was going. Think about who he was.....and who he wanted to be....and yet, as soon as he approached the water and looked at his reflection, reality crashes back onto him.
He had dreamed of leaving the forest, living a life with friends and people who loved him. Yet, he hadn’t ever met another person besides his family. (Y/n) could feel himself getting lost, drowning in his own reflection.
The mark on his cheek had grown dark purple with green and yellow edges. His eyes reflected his exhaustion. His sorrow. His Pain.
Why was life so cruel to him? What had he done to deserve this? More and more questions pooled into his mind as he stepped into the frigid water. He could hardly feel the cold, he could barely feel anything. Even the pain in his ribs, the sting in his cheek, suddenly felt like they had washed away. But something else felt off.
Almost like a plate being shattered, something broke in (Y/n)’s ears. So much so, it shocked him.
All at once, the anguish, the pain, the confusion, feeling itself seemed to drown itself in the river. (Y/n) laid himself in the river, not being able to feel the cold water as it soaked his yukata. He lowered himself completely until all he could see was the blue of the waters surface.
Finally....he let go. Releasing himself into the river. He could see the water flow, he could hear the silence, and he felt nothing. It was comforting. This time he would not get up, he would not.
‘Brother....’ he thought as he released bubbles of oxygen. The image of his younger brother flashing in front of him followed by that of his mother. He could feel everything growing dark. It was a comfort.
The next thing he knew, he was out of the water. Above him, two bright orange eyes stared down at him.
“Quite cold to be going for a swim, isn’t it young man?” The males voice boomed, but it only echoed quietly in (Y/n)’s ears. Was he....dead? (Y/n) blinked a few times before looking down at himself. Covering him was a haori, white like snow with flames that matched the strangers hair.
(Y/n) raised a hand up but as he did, felt the pain of his broken rib. This seemed to have shocked him into being more alert, as the strangers voice now became clear.
“You’re injured. Please allow me to hel-”
“You shouldn’t have helped me. Y-You should have let me die....” (Y/n) groaned. The stranger gave him a warm smile, but beyond that warmth there was a depth of sadness.
“Nonsense, what sort of Hashira would i be if i simply let you die in that river? I’d sooner throw myself in with you before letting an innocent man die while i watched.” He replied enthusiastically.
(Y/n)’s eyes widened in shock as he processed what the male had said before looking into his eyes. In that moment, (Y/n) felt a warmth envelope him. Something so foreign to him, he began to scoot away from the male. “Hey, don’t move too much. I have not checked the extent of your wounds, i wouldn’t want you to injure yourself further.”
“L-Leave me alone!” The male exclaimed, grabbing for a stone but in that same instant he went to throw it, the stranger was mere inches from him, his wrist in his hand. It was so fast, (Y/n) gasped, the action causing him to lay down, placing his free hand on his ribs.
“Now, Now, calm down. Let me see how hurt you are. If you’re truly okay, simply raising your arm should not be so strenuous. And yet you are in agony.” Although loud, the males voice was nothing but gentle as he spoke. Something (Y/n) hadn’t ever experienced.
The pain was so overwhelming, (Y/n) didn’t have the energy to fight back anymore.
The stranger pulled back the haori covering him before pulling back on (Y/n)’s own Yakata. The shocked expression he made was hard to disguise. It doesn’t take a doctor to see the bruises covering the males chest, dark purple, black and blue.
“You look as though you’ve had some sort of beating. I would not be surprised to discover you have broken ribs. Such an injury can be life threatening if not tended to. I will take you to see a doctor where you may receive treatment.” The male said affirmatively, moving to pick (Y/n) up. But the male protested.
“N-No, please! I-I need to get home...my father and brothers...are expecting me home before dar-” As he began to protest, he also took in his surroundings. The forest had gone dark. It was already night.
“Well, i’m sure your father would be far more relieved to hear that you are receiving treatment after being attacked than have you stumbling back with no medical treatment for miles.” The male reassured, hoisting (Y/n) off the ground and into his arms, the haori once again laid on top of him.
“No...No sir...y-you don’t understand. My father will be...furious....please i must...r-return.” The shake in (Y/n)’s voice was hard to ignore, the stranger couldn’t help giving him a confused look.
“Ah....i see. Then perhaps i shall simply need to let him know i will escort you. That way he’d have no reason to be upset or angered. Knowing you are under the protection of a Hashira would certainly ease any parent.” He replied, chuckling loudly as he did so.
Hashira? Where had he heard that before?
“Now, where do you live? I shall carry you!” The stranger assured, making (Y/n) turn pink. “H-Head east down the mountain, j-just follow my foot steps.” (Y/n) replied, looking around.
“Oh...You have another. That one looks very bad.” The stranger said, commenting on the males severely bruised cheek. (Y/n) nodded slowly before sighing, regretting it instantly as he felt the pain surge through his chest.
The stranger gave a soft ‘hm’ before turning to trek up stream. Having flowed down the river, (Y/n) could hardly recognize where he was. But it wouldn’t be too long before they both arrived where he had began his journey, the wooden buckets still there.
“Ah, so then we begin here and head east down the mountain, yes?” The male asked, earning a weak, “Yes sir” from (Y/n).
“Now then, close your eyes and rest if you’d like. I will watch over you, do not worry.” The male cooed, giving (Y/n) a gentle smile as he did so. (Y/n) couldn’t deny that this guy....whoever he was....was someone he wanted to see again. Never had he had someone be so kind and warm to him. Such a gentle tone brought pain to his chest, one more powerful than the pain of his ribs. But....(Y/n) couldn’t help feeling safe.
It brought a weak smile to his face as he shut his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over.
“Awaken my friend! I believe we have found it.” The males voice boomed, waking (Y/n) from his sleep.
“Will you stand if only for a few moments?” The stranger asked, “If you are still too weak, i am more than happy to continue to carry you.” He added quickly, giving (Y/n) a smile. Again, (Y/n) could feel his cheeks heat up from the embarrassment.
“N-No, i can stand.” He croaked as the male gently placed him onto his feet. As soon as he did, the pain from the beating earlier combined with the frigid cold was enough to cause him to wince. But he did not grab the stranger and instead walked ahead toward what he did indeed recognize as his home.
As he did the sound of someone running to the entrance was loud and as soon as the door’s curtain was pulled back, the face he saw made him turn pale and his blood run cold.
His father. And he did not look happy.
“F-Father...” (Y/n) meekly croaked as he watched his father approach him. Without time to react, his father struck him across the face, hitting the same bruise he had created a few hours prior.
The force was enough to make (Y/n) stumble as he grasped his face but not for long as his father struck him once more, slapping his opposite side and finally knocking him to the ground.
“Where the hell were you?! You didn’t even do what i told you! You useless piece of shit! You can’t even complete a simple chore!” He yelled at the boy, striking him once more over the head, this time with a closed fist.
Just as he raised his fist to strike him once more, a brush of wind came out in front of (Y/n). He was too terrified to look up, expecting to have another blow over his head.
“I believe that’s enough sir.” The stranger boomed.
His voice was enough to cause (Y/n) to look up. There, the stranger held his father by the wrist. He was so fast and even though his father was shaking with rage, the stranger did not budge in the slightest.
“Who the hell are you? Don’t touch me you brat!” His father barked, swinging his free hand, but again the stranger caught his fist in his palm with ease.
“If you truly wish to know, i am Kyojuro Rengoku. Your son had fallen into the river and i recovered him, that is why he is so late. He nearly drowned.” The stranger, now dubbed Rengoku explained, but (Y/n)’s father simply scoffed.
“The useless rat would have served better use as food for the fishes anyway.”
(Y/n)’s eyes widened in horror as he processed his fathers words. ‘H-he’d...rather i be dead?’ he thought, echoing it over and over again in his ears.
Rengoku couldn’t hide his frown as he shoved the male away from him with enough force to send him a few feet toward the house.
“No father should speak that way of their child. You should be ashamed.” Rengoku exclaimed, unable to suppress his passion. Because he too understood being in this position. Having his father treat him like he’s worthless. Like dirt.
“Hah! What the hell do you know? This rat has been a pain in my side for years and still he has the audacity to disobey me!” (Y/n)’s father barked in return, huffing out clouds of cold smoke.
Rengoku turned around, placing a hand out to (Y/n). The boy stared at his hand for a long moment, unsure if he should take it or not. What would his father do? What would he say?
“Do not be afraid.” Rengoku assured, flashing that ever effective gentle smile.
(Y/n) finally took his hand, pulling himself up gingerly. He shook his head, feeling dizzy again.
Rengoku placed a hand on the boys head before gently rubbing his hair, messing it up well. (Y/n) could feel his eyes buldging out of his head, what was he doing to him? Why was he treating him like this? Didn’t he hear his father? He was a pest. A rat. Better....off dead.
“Then sir, if you have no use for him, may i take him?” Rengoku asked pointedly, shocking both (Y/n) and his father. “W-What?” The boys father replied, but Rengoku simply smiled.
“I am in need of workers, hard larbor you see. I could use a strong young man such as your son. Two problems solved with one solution.” Rengoku elaborated. But the boys father walked forward, reaching out to grab his son.
But again, Rengoku stopped him.
“Unless you’re buying him, you’re not taking him.” His father growled. But Rengoku simply laughed, reaching into a pouch behind him.
“Very well. Name your price.” He replied, but it was then that (Y/n) finally spoke.
“Sir, n-no you don’t have to-”
“Nonsense, this way i can keep you. Work you until your bones ache and not worry because you are mine.” Rengoku cut in, smiling pleasantly. As dark as that sounded at first, it still sounded far better than this hell hole. Rengoku hadn’t been anything but kind to him since their meeting and the thought of leaving this place....finally....
It made something spark in (Y/n)’s eyes, something Rengoku took notice of as he pulled out a tan coin bag. He poured its contents out in the snow, gold and silver glittering amazingly.
“W-Woah!” His father exclaimed, crouching down in the snow to begin to pick it up.
“Good day to you sir.” Rengoku said cheerfully before turning around, gesturing with his head for the boy to follow him. (Y/n) watched his father pick up the coins feverishly. And to think.....he cared more about those coins than his son.
Rengoku reached down into the snow, picking up his now soaked haori. (Y/n) finally turned around as well, grasping his chest. Seeing the boy struggling, Rengoku sighed.
He wringed out his haori before throwing it over his shoulders. “Alright, let us set off. No stops this time.” He joked, making (Y/n) blink curiously at him. Now clearly looking at his face, Rengoku noted a new bruise and fresh blood under his eye.
He chuckled, gently sweeping the boy into his arms again. “Don’t squirm. I wouldn’t want to drop you.” He warned before taking a large leap, causing them to disappear in the blink of an eye. In a split second, his father was a speck in the distance. A memory....that he would try hard to forget.
(Y/n) couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped his lips, even as he groaned in agony. He clung tightly to Rengoku's uniform, earning a chuckle from him.
His eyes remained closed for what felt like moments. Only opening them when he heard Rengoku release a breath.
Peaking his eye open, he observed a wood and concrete front entrance. The front door opened slowly and behind it emerged an elderly woman.
"Good evening ma'am, i'm terribly sorry to arrive unannounced like this but I have an injured boy with me. Please, will you help tend to his wounds. I'm afraid he has broken many bones." Rengoku explained, but the woman only smiled as she stepped back allowing the male to pass.
Rengoku carefully slipped by, watching the males head as he did so.
"Follow me this way please." The elderly woman uttered softly, walking quite quickly into what looked to be a mansion. All the while, butterflies fluttered by. The sight was so dreamlike and as (Y/n) cast his gaze up at Rengoku, the male returned his gaze, warming him to his core once more.
Perhaps he was bleeding internally and was losing a lot of blood, or perhaps the Trauma to his head from the beating had led to a concussion or....maybe it was the way this man’s eyes stared right through his soul, but it was like he was back in that river. Under the water where everything was quiet and calm, where he felt he had no need to breathe.
"There is no need to worry anymore. You will be safe here." Rengoku stated and soon beamed, and for the first time in.....a very long time (Y/n) returned a smile. Small and weak, but it hurt so much. He didn't keep it for long before tears began to fill his eyes.
(Y/n) looked back down, ashamed to be crying. "I-I'm sorry..."
"Nothing to be sorry for lad! I can't imagine the sort of trauma you must have been facing at the hands of your own father and to finally be away, it is overwhelming I'm sure. Let alone the physical pain you must be in." The male replied all too cheerfully. (Y/n) did not speak, silently letting his tears flow as they stepped into a large room with beds lining the room. And at first glance, it looked like three others were laying in the beds nearest to the entrance.
But the elderly woman had led them both to the bed to the farthest end.
"I will send for one of my girls to bring you fresh clothes. I will also call for a doctor to treat your wounds. Make yourself comfortable." The elderly woman cooed as Rengoku gently placed the male on the bed.
(Y/n) bit back any noise, figuring he must sound annoying at this point. Moaning and groaning.... But his self deprecating thoughts were broken by the males voice.
"When will the doctor be able to arrive? I'm not sure how long this boy has been injured." He asked calmly, turning his warm gaze towards the elderly woman.
"Within the hour Master Kyojuro, do not concern yourself too much. He will be right and rain soon enough." The woman assured before showing herself out of the room. Perhaps to fetch said doctor.
Rengoku sighed, but a breath that was so heavy, it startled (Y/n). Noticing him jump, Rengoku kneeled down beside him, placing a hand on the crown of his head.
"Now, all i can do is wish you luck in your recovery. I have high hopes for you, my friend." Rengoku smiled again, earning another smile from (Y/n).
"Thank you....so much." (Y/n) replied softly, his tears saying everything that he could not muster.
Years of physical and mental abuse, starving and working like a dog.....to be told that he was safe, to not worry....to have someone hope good things for him, it was euphoric. Overwhelmingly so.
Rengoku chuckled, gently rubbing his thumb under the males tired eyes.
"This pain, all the suffering you have endured, it will hopefully pass one day. Until then, do not let it hinder you. Instead, use it. Use it as kindling to light a new fire within yourself. Just as an ash born phoenix, you too shall rise and be reborn as a stronger man from this. I believe you will." Rengoku stated, passion flowing from every word. It was obvious that everything he said, he meant with his whole heart.
And as (Y/n) listened intently, indeed something began to spark within him. Perhaps it was only a spark, but that is all he truly needed.
"I will. I-I promise." (Y/n) replied weakly, but not before raising his arm from the bed, outstretching his palm.
Rengoku looked down at it before taking it, gripping firmly.
"We shall meet again, my friend. Until then, take care of yourself." Rengoku finally stated, getting up from his knee.
As he walked out, (Y/n) watched with admiration. And just as he was about to leave the room, (Y/n) cried out with whatever strength he had left: "I am (Y/ln) (Y/n), do not forget, Kyojuro Rengoku!"
Rengoku turned to to look at him, shocked to see the boy still had any strength, let alone enough to yell at him. But, nonetheless he smiled and placed a thumbs up towards the boy, "(Y/ln) (Y/n), what a fine name that is. I will not forget."
(Y/n) sighed with relief and although more pain followed, it had been the easiest one he had taken in a while.
Soon, all he could hear were the fading steps. Just as quickly as he had arrived to save him, he was gone.
(Y/n) felt a rush of cold envelope him, but it comforted him nonetheless. Although he knew he had much to think about, he did not want to do so.
'I think....I've had enough for today...' he thought as he felt his heavy eyes close.
'We'll...start again tomorrow....'
That was 3 years ago.
#WOOOO I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING#Rengoku x Male Reader#male reader insert#heavy themes#tw: suicide mention#tw: depression#tw: physical abuse#tw: physical violence#anime#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#Kyojuro Rengoku#chapter 1: Introduction#writing#fanfiction#gay#mlm#slow burn#slow build up#(pre) Mugen Train Arc
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Lucky for Me, I Run on Spite and Sweet Revenge
Originally posted on tumblr on October 27, 2022
Posted Updated Version on the Fictionkind Dreamwidth on April 11, 2024
Write about a time that your fictomere completely lost their cool, or a time that someone lost their cool about your fictomere. - 95 [Frenzy]
My strongest noema is that I dark digivolved when I had a chance for revenge against one of the royal knights.
The royal knights are an extension of the supercomputer, King Drasil, who oversees the Digital World and have sworn to do their bidding. The same King Drasil who unleashed a virus to wipe out all but 1% of Digimon. Royal knights are Digimon themselves, but they’re too powerful to dare challenge. After miraculously surviving the x-virus, I was able to escape through a small gap into the human world. No matter how angry I was at first, choosing to fight them instead would be a waste of my life. The idea of continuing to live as an act to spite god was much more appealing. On the other side, I was able to meet a human that became my partner.
I wasn’t the sole Digimon in the human world for long and apparently the little tear I used to travel between worlds wasn’t the only one.
Other digimon were able to find similar gaps into the human world, so my human partner and I worked together to keep any dangerous ones at bay. As a digimon, our emotions make us. The closer our bond became, the more resolute and confident my partner was, the powerful the forms I would take. My strength was directly tied to her emotions, will and growth. Over time, we even found other human and digimon pairs that joined us. My partner was way more enthusiastic about them than I was. I never was the most social creature to begin with and time had made me jaded, but they were tolerable. They grew on me at some point.
But bitterness and resentment are like poison. I’ve had minor upsets when digivolving before, I’d be more feral/aggressive, and maybe use more force than was strictly necessary, but I wasn’t…like this. When I was finally going to hit mega, my own hatred and resentment tainted the evolution and I completely lost control. I do not know what I was supposed to become if I had a clear heart, but I transformed into holydramon x. Normally, holydramon is seen as a heroic protector. After having it’s latent powers drawn out by the x-program, it's more akin to a vengeful deity:
“Although there are no visible changes to Holydramon, who has continued to evolve throughout the history of the Digital World, the wild, draconic ferocity it had restrained has been completely drawn out. When facing evil Digimon, it smashes them to smithereens with its brutal, tremendous fighting style, and then erases them in the blink of an eye with its enormous light energy of justice (Holy Blaze), and is starting to become feared as a vengeful god.” - from wikimon.net (image is too)
After writing that last paragraph, I feel like my partner must have played a role in the evolution too. Digimon are hyper-sensitive to the emotions and wishes of humans. Was it only my heart that tainted the evolution? Was my partner filled with anger and despair over how I was treated? Am I placing all of the blame unfairly on my own shoulders? I don’t know. Either way, I doubt I helped the situation given my personality. The thought does warm my heart, not even because I “wouldn’t be totally to blame,” it’s more the thought that someone I care about was outraged on my behalf. It’s proof I wasn’t alone.
In this new form I completely lost control and attacked indiscriminately without care for the damage to the city around me, myself or anyone else from our team. Honestly, my noema gets fuzzy after actually digivolving, but I get the feeling I either lost, tied or the battle was postponed midway through. I also believe it was my partner that was able to pull me back from rampaging.
The extra wild thing I’ve discovered overtime is this became my normal mega evolution. Usually dark digivolutions are “one and done” so to speak. You have something happen, learn your lesson, and become something else, something more virtuous, next time. The more I explore my vaguetype, the more shifts and noemata I experience, I only have holydramon x for this level. When I do experience a mental shift of this digimon, it’s usually accompanied by a calm confidence. For my partner and I, I think it was more about tempering our need for vengeance with mercy and grace. We didn’t need to change who we were, the form wasn’t wrong in the broad sense of the word, but we were taking things too far and distorting them.
When I get angry in the present-day, I try to remember what she taught me. I don’t want to be that monster that defeats opponents at any cost and dies inside along the way.
- Hortense
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Maybe it's not their actual opinion on the post game dynamic, but a lot of the shuake ship content seems to assume romance as a given, an inevitability.
I understand wanting to skip the long and arduous process of dealing with Akechi's many psychological problems, but there's a lot that needs to happen there.
To say that Akechi is damaged is an understatement. A "throwaway child" so desperate to show the world that he's not worthless, so desperate to be acknowledged by the father he hated, desperate for some form of justice, some form of revenge that he became his father's little pet assassin in a convoluted scheme to betray said father at his highest point with no real expectation to even survive past that... won't exactly be in a healthy mindset for a romantic relationship right away.
Also, consider the circumstances around the true ending. He fights so hard and so earnestly to go back to the true reality despite the fact he fully believes he's dead there. He doesn't want to live under Maruki's control. He doesn't want everything he is and everything he's done to be erased. He's burned away his regret and dread, he's accepted the way his story played out, the consequences for his choices. If he didn't already know it before, then by the end of it he definitely knows that Maruki brought him back to life to manipulate Joker. His first response to finding himself alive after all that would be fear. He certainly didn't have any more plans on surviving than he did during his sunk-cost fallacy revenge plot from hell.
He would want to know why and how he still alive. He has a gap in his memory from the engine room to his reappearance. He would need to know that he's not a fake or a piece in someone else's game brought back to toy with Joker's feelings again. He would need proof that... this is real. That it even could be real.
He's not someone who believes he deserves happiness. Joker does make him happy. You can't see his confidant route without seeing that. That fact is probably one of the reasons why the ship is so popular. But it's also why he wouldn't seek Joker right away. He doesn't want to be used against him. He doesn't want... to keep hurting him like that. And he doesn't believe that he should have a happy ending. He doesn't believe he CAN.
He hates himself. Seeking revenge, seeking justice for his dead mother while killing other people's parents. He's more than smart enough to realize the irony. He knew what it would mean to kill for this and understood that there's no going back from that point.
There's also the matter of what he would consider a very big question. The answer may seem obvious to you, but not to him.
Does Akechi really love Joker... or does he only feel the way he does because Joker gave him attention, real attention, caring enough to see past the mask of the second detective prince and still want him around? Akechi is immensely, overwhelmingly lonely. It's largely his own damn fault; he put up an act for everyone and trusted no one. The entire engine room scene is a testament to his loneliness, his emotional self-isolation reaching critical mass. Does he love Joker or is Joker the first person his age, possibly the first person ever, to give him what he truly wants?
There's also the problem he shares with a certain other boy in an earlier installment of the series who would love nothing more than to gaze at the setting sun with the protagonist by his side.
Conformity to and seeking acceptance in a homophobic society. Internalized homophobia. It's not the most difficult thing to deal with, especially in light of his other issues. You could write around it or even ignore it without too much trouble. There's plausible deniability to believe that 2016 personaverse Japan isn't homophobic. There's the fact that accepting that being very particular about his public image and avoiding being an outcast at all costs did nothing for him would clear away some of the hesitance from stigma. Homophobia, internalized or otherwise, isn't a central trait or even really touched upon in the game, and it's believable enough for him to be done with it by the end of the game.
Then there's Joker. Akechi did murder parents of two of his friends and try to assassinate him. Even if Joker were willing to accept Akechi back into his life, there is a lot of tension there. I suppose it's more or less up to interpretation how Joker feels, but there's definitely a problem there.
Maybe I'm reading too much into the characters. Akechi especially. I don't think he needs a whole redemption arc, but he needs the time, opportunity, and support to heal. He'll make his own redemption arc.
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“Miraculous Tales Of Ladybug & Catnoir”: Its Characters Are The Reason Why It’s So Loved
AN: Spoilers for seasons 1 – 3 of “Miraculous Tales Of Ladybug & Catnoir”.
Honestly, when I watched this show for the first time, it wasn’t my favourite (which seems to be a running trend nowadays). For one, I hated the costumes of Ladybug and Catnoir. There also weren’t really any stakes. Every episode had the same structure and almost every problem was fixed by the end of the episode. Which, seeing as it is for a younger audience makes sense. And I also think Thomas Astruc just wanted a relatively light-hearted show (in between torturing the audience with the romantic subplot).
Recently, I felt a little nostalgic so I found the show on Netflix and I binge watched all three seasons within days. And the whole time, I was either laughing, face palming, going aww, having my heart broken or angry. The characters in this show are handled expertly. Everyone (except Lila the liar and Chloe’s “mother”) has depth. They are three-dimensional human beings and even when they’re being horrible, it still feels like we’re dealing with a person rather than a shallow cartoon villain.
But my absolute favourite thing, which I can’t believe I missed the first time I watched it, is the sheer level of diversity present in the show. The characters are from a diverse range of ethnic backgrounds, they have vastly different body shapes and vastly different personalities. This show represents actual people rather than cardboard cutouts of the ideal Eurocentric person.
And I like that they didn’t fall into a “Mean Girls” trap (much as I love that movie, I have complaints). Chloe is rich, blonde and a terrible person. However, while so many shows fall into the trope of having the meanest girl being the most popular, this show represents people’s actual reactions to a horrible person.
They hate her and she only has one friend. In fact, when she says she’s leaving Paris forever, they throw a party (don’t worry, it’s justified – she’s responsible for half the villains getting acumatised). Moreover, the main character: clumsy, awkward, super nice Marinette is loved. She even becomes class rep while competing against Chloe. Which is a completely human scenario. Of course the people would prefer and vote for the nicest girl in the class rather than the meanest. It’s human and it doesn’t settle for unrealistic drama. There’s actual development.
Abuse And Isolation
Adrien’s father and Kagami’s mother are clearly extremely abusive people. They abuse their kids via isolation and emotional manipulation. If you disagree with me, please go and look up the definition of abuse and its many forms. I assure you that both Gabriel and Tomoe fit the bill perfectly.
Both Adrien and Kagami are kept isolated. Adrien is home-schooled, initially, and has to fight to be allowed to attend school. I’m assuming Kagami is also home-schooled because her mother is even worse in terms of isolating her daughter. They are both actively discouraged from making friends and are told to see themselves as above everyone else. Both of their lives are incredibly structured and they are expected to maintain perfection in everything their parents want them to do.
I think this was the least light hearted aspect of this show. And I am glad it exists. It shows kids that there are many types of abuse and even though it defies the generally light-hearted nature of the show, it needs to be included. And I know people are reluctant to label parents as abusive but I think at this point, it would simply be denial not to.
It is clear that Adrien and Kagami’s abusive childhood has caused a significant level of trauma. It’s more obvious in Adrien but I think that’s mostly because he is a protagonist in the story. The clearest example of the trauma that’s been inflicted on him is shown in the “Sandboy” episode. Adrien’s worst fear is being caged. Compare that to Marinette’s which is her crush telling her he’s in love with someone else and you can see the damage done to his psyche. His fears transcend those of a teenager with a healthy home life.
Adrien is actively being prevented from having any sort of stability in his friendships. As someone who has been isolated her whole life, I can assure you that even with the best of friends, it is easy to become disconnected. Even when I saw my friends at school, it was hard for me not to feel lonely all the time. And because I constantly had to say no to invitations to hang out, I often ended up being less connected with my own friends. Even if other people have good intentions, it’s hard to really feel connected with someone you only ever see at school.
And on top of isolating his son from the rest of the world, he is distant and cold 99.99% of the time. Adrien has very limited social interactions outsides of school and modelling and he can’t even reach out to his own father. Regardless of how cool his room is, it’s an incredibly lonely existence. One that will certainly mess up a child.
In fact, though he doesn’t know it, his father is constantly endangering him. Gabriel has no regard for his son’s mental health and sense of security. As long as Adrien is alive, Gabriel can justify it. Not only that, Gabriel has repeatedly shown that he is not unwilling to use his own son as a pawn. The worst being when he knowingly acumatised Adrien (in Catnoir form) in order to get the Ladybug miraculous.
I have heard people criticise the “Cat Blanc” episode for its portrayal of Gabriel. Instead of being redeemed, Gabriel only made himself seem heartless by using his own son as a means to an end. But for me, I think it’s perfectly in character. This is a father who does not care about his own son above the barest minimum. As long as Adrien is alive, Gabriel doesn’t see himself as doing anything wrong.
And that is the clearest example of an abusive father. If you disagree with me then you clearly don’t know what abuse is (or you haven’t gone far enough in the show). And I’d like to remind everyone that neglect is also a form of abuse and Gabriel certainly neglects his son. He may take care of all of Adrien’s physical needs (except maybe food #feedadrien) but he has no regard for Adrien’s need to have love, compassion and connection. Things every child needs.
Chemistry Between Adrien and Marinette.
You may know that Ladybug and Catnoir have an incredible level of chemistry. The way that they coordinate around each other and the sheer amount of flirtation that goes on is OTP worthy. What you may not know or may have missed is that Adrien and Marinette also have chemistry. If, in a more reserved, sweet, gentle way.
Some people complain about not wanting Adrinette to happen only after they find out each other’s real identities. Their justification being that it wouldn’t be real in that scenario. Adrien would only date her because she’s Ladybug and she’d only date Catnoir because he’s Adrien. They complain that Adrien needs to fall for Marinette and Ladybug for Catnoir for it to be “real”.
What they don’t realise is that this has already happened. How, you ask. Well, let’s consider. Both of these characters are borderline obsessed with the person they’re in love with, to the point that they would ignore any other potential partners. Marinette certainly forgets other people exist when Adrien is around and I think, Catnoir also kind of does the same thing.
Let’s also consider the fact that Adrien is incredibly clueless. The man forgets his brain sometimes (which fair: he has been isolated his whole life). He is shy, reserved and sweet enough to give you toothache. If he liked someone other than Ladybug, it wouldn’t be obvious. But there are definitely signs that he likes Marinette.
Example 1: The first day of school, he is devastated by her misunderstanding a situation and hating him as a result of it. Example 2: The desperation with which he tried to free her from her acumatised father. Example 3: When he misunderstands her awkwardness as her being upset with him, he is devastated and does everything in his power to make it up to her. Example 4: He spent his entire weekend away looking for constipation meds for her (after she’d accidentally given him a prescription rather than a love letter). And then he gave it to her with no comment. He didn’t tease her or even mention it. And example 5: All the times he’s defended her and the times he shielded her from an acuma with his own body. (There are so many other examples but we don’t have time for them today).
The above examples along with the sweetness with which he treats Marinette perfectly shows that he likes her more than a friend. That’s perfect boyfriend material right there. Not a single other character gets this much attention and sweetness from him. Marinette is also frequently the first person he goes to when he has a problem. He genuinely trusts her judgement. And let’s not forget that Marinette forgets how to string sentences together around him so it’s not even a situation of them just being really close friends. It’s him actively getting through Marinette’s awkwardness in order to be close to her.
And let’s not forget that the man is very shy and doesn’t have much confidence in interacting with other people. While Catnoir has no problem flirting and joking around, Adrien is sweet. Even around Ladybug, he’s just kind of shy and sweet. No flirting. No obvious signs. So why would he display those around Marinette (at least as Adrien, that is)? It would be completely out of character.
Diversity
The characters in this show are from a diverse range of backgrounds and the women, in particular, have a diverse range of body shapes. Women in media, or at least women portrayed to be desirable, are frequently forced into a skinny, fair cardboard cutout. This show completely throws out the perception that all women have the same body shape.
And even better, this show makes women with vastly different body shapes and skin tones desirable. It shows that a woman doesn’t have to look a specific way in order to be someone else’s object of desire. Everyone is beautiful in their own way.
This is an amazing message, especially in a kids show. Growing up, I never saw myself in traditional media and so I never saw myself as beautiful and when other people called me pretty, it would annoy me. I am so grateful and happy that my future kids will at least have shows where they are represented.
I also love the fact that the main character is a Chinese-French girl. Mixed race kids are portrayed in traditional media so little, it’s like their existence is being erased from these shows. I really appreciate that this show does not hold back on the diverse representation. It’s something that all kids should be able to see. Both so that they can accept themself and so that they can accept others.
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#miraculous ladybug#character analysis#tv show review#adrien agreste#gabriel agreste#tomoe tsurugi#kagami tsurugi#diversity#chloe bourgeois#audrey bourgeois
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anything, for me.
2023 is almost finished, and it feels like this year was the first chapter of my life. All the unknown emotions that came crashing onto my self that I could not have expected.
These days, some truth was revealed to my conscious being. I am dissociating emotions from the touch, as a sense. When people touch me, I feel almost nothing. I've been doing that for more than two decades now, out of protection and survival.
It is so fucking confusing.
After a decade out of deeming myself worthy of being called sensitive and wise, now, after seeing people as they are, embracing life like a bloody seer, now I have to realize that I do not know what to feel when people touch me.
Platonically or sexually. I don't know what I should feel. Like, what do I even like? I kept myself safely hidden, at some reasonable distance from everyone. But Gods, do I love, do I care, do I feel everything. But not through anyone's touch.
To unthread this thread is so weird. What is tenderness and desire in a touch? Disgust, fear and love? I'm not a hugger, except when my friends are drunks.
When I was doing therapy (EMDR, that shit is extraordinary), this question came up. Why can't I feel when people are touching me? It's always so cold, like medical. And that is alright, I guess as until now, it was. Now I'm wondering why.
So, we dove into my past. The violence my body went through. Even as I'm writing this, I can still hear my voice pleading, "You were not raped, you were not beaten!" and that is true. But to move on from this void, I will need to accept that violence is still violence, even more in the name of Science.
Their hands choking my throat while they applied plaster on my body, tears in my eyes, I couldn't breath. The way their shear cut the skin of my back deeply instead of the plaster. The blood, and vomit, everywhere. When I begged to have anesthetic before they cut my skins for exams, but told me "no" because it would disturb the results (fuck the results).
I was two, four, nine, fifteen... I was a good soldier, still am by the way. I took these blows because no one told me it wasn't okay. I only knew this, and still found within my youngest self the light which made me magical.
Consent.
The way some people grab me, to show their power over me, it is probably the thing that I went through that disgusts me the most. He kisses me, caresses me, as if it was friendly and consented. It is not because you disrespected me, and that I said NO. For that, there will be no excuse, never a fucking single one. I scream inside like a wounded animal at that thought.
Once, a physical therapist told me to bend on my knees to show her my back. I complied, because she's an adult, right. I was seven. Then she raised my tee shirt and then, lots of hands touched me without asking me, the skin of my back. I remember the strokes and the humiliation. I didn't know who they were, didn't see their faces, but to this day, I still wonder, why?
This is a beginning. I'm headed in the direction of the answers I'm seeking. I dissociated to not feel these strangers, and my own revulsion.
Also, eerily, it fits the imagery I created much later, of my own mythology. I'm a sculpture people touch and seek answers from. Leaving me with nothing but my own questions.
If my soul chose that path, that life, then why does it feel like as if I'm forever stuck between feeling like a burden and my inner god's complex? I love romance but not the pathetic thoughts that echo confusion. I deserve(d) so much better.
I wish to live a touch that feels reciprocated and not forced. I wish to not want to control everything in order to feel safe. I wish that I went through all my life did not damage my vision of myself, as a woman. I wish that my teenage self realized that she could trust others. Yes, pushing people away is easier, even when you're constantly smiling, but there's more. I know that now. I wish that I will come to become tender without fearing rejection, someday.
Thank you. 2024, here you are. Show the way. I will lead, obviously.
-Audrey
#writing positive shit#emdr therapy#realization#dissociation#being disabled#my body is mine#acceptance#eating my feelings#this is me trying#violence#hurt#child abuse#sexism#disability#it's ok not to be ok#hope#be you#by audrey
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