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effetsecndaires · 11 months

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— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES | takashi mitsuya, manjiro sano (bonten tl), chifuyu matsuno, shuji hanma, tetta kisaki, haruchiyo sanzu.

CONTENT WARNING | sanzu's contains nsfw, mention of eating disorders. fem!reader.

NOTE | all characters are in their 20s, english isn't my first language! (divider by cafekitsune)

— MITSUYA.

Mitsuya has a hard time getting over your death. He's constantly haunted by the feeling that he somehow failed to protect you, even though your death had nothing to do with him and everyone around him always insists on the fact that there's nothing he could have done to prevent it.

His grief gets so bad that taking care of himself becomes the last thing on his mind. He neglects his appearance and barely eats anymore, he simply can't find the motivation to carry on with his life as if nothing happened. The only thing he looks forward to every day is going back to sleep.

His dreams have become a sanctuary, a safe place where death doesn't exist and the two of you can finally reunite.

— MIKEY.

Mikey keeps a stoic expression the entire time he's being told the news. He's biting his tongue, trying not to let his emotions show.

He feels his heart break into a thousand pieces as fear, anger, and grief all overtake him at once. He wants to scream, to lash out, to hit something. But he doesn't say a single word. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

He then nods curtly before exiting the room and heading to a quiet place where he can gather his thoughts. The world around him feels distant, everything turning into white noise as he struggles to come to terms with what he's just been told.

Mikey hadn't been in touch with you for nearly a decade and he's unsure if he's even supposed to mourn you as intensely as he does, not knowing if you still remembered or even cared about him after all those years.

All he knows is that he did still care about you, and your death feels like a cruel joke life played on him, a punishment that cuts him to the core for all the crimes he's committed.

— CHIFUYU.

Chifuyu completely isolates himself from the world. The moment he hears about your death, he breaks down and cries inconsolably for a solid hour, completely shattered by the loss of yet another friend.

He blames himself for not having done enough to save you, and your death brings back the same overwhelming emotions he experienced when he lost Baji.

With a heavy heart, he visits your grave every day and places a single flower on top of your gravestone, silently expressing his love and respect for you. He takes a moment to collect himself then heads to Baji's resting place where he repeats the same ritual and prays that the pain of losing his best friends will eventually get better.

— HANMA.

Hanma acts like he doesn't care. He'll put on a tough façade, tell everyone he never even cared about you and laugh in their faces when they try to offer condolences. He goes so far as to get defensive when anyone dares to suggest that he had any emotional attachment to you.

You were nothing but a careless brat who threw herself head first into the lion's den despite having been warned of the risks beforehand. Why would he feel any sort of empathy? Why would he care?

But this façade crumbles down as soon as he's alone in the funeral home, staring down at your open casket.

He slowly takes a step closer, looking at your lifeless body, the memory of you lying on the ground, blood pouring out of your wounds flashing through his mind.

He reaches out a shaky hand to cup your face but retracts it right away when he feels the coldness of your skin, a single tear escaping from his eye.

He doesn't let it show, but he spends the rest of his life missing you.

— KISAKI.

Kisaki doesn't react. At least, not from the outside. He keeps his head down and continues flipping through his papers, as if the words he just heard held little to no importance to him.

He might even hum dismissively and wave off whoever brought him the news, not bothering to say anything else.

But anyone who knows him knows that Kisaki is seething with anger beneath the surface.

He doesn't allow himself to dwell on it for too long, though; instead, he channels all those hidden emotions into plotting the perfect revenge. He meticulously devises a plan to make everyone involved with your murder pay, calculating each step to ensure maximum damage.

Regardless of how long it takes, whether it be months or even years, Kisaki will make sure that your death doesn't go unpunished.

— SANZU.

Sanzu tries to forget by sleeping with other women. He wants to move on, and he wants to do it fast.

But he'll be damned if forgetting you was an easy task.

He might try to convince himself that it's not intentional, but he often finds himself gravitating towards women who resemble you in some way. Whether it's the color of their skin or similarities in hair color or style, he can't deny that he still longs for you and looks for you in every woman he picks.

He'll take them from behind and pretend they're you, the palm of his hand softly sliding up their back as if you were suddenly the one moaning for more underneath him. He'll probably moan out your name at some point, not giving a damn about getting a negative reaction from the nameless girl he's using.

#fem reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #manjiro sano x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #mikey x reader #chifuyu x fem!reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #mitsuya x reader #hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #kisaki x reader #tetta kisaki x reader #kisaki x you #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x you

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stolenres-if · 7 months

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DEMO TBA (EDITING)

Genres: superhero, dark, fame

CW: violence, explicit language and themes, dark themes, immoral behavior and situations

After a villain almost decimated the world as you know it, you and four other people were chosen by the hands of fate to gain powerful abilities and become a member of Legion, humanity's only hope.

Because of that, you became celebrities in your own right. Red carpets, photoshoots, commercials for energy drinks and more. After a while it felt like the villain would never return and you'd be stuck being a celebrity for powers you don't even use.

Until the villain does return.

And you win.

Unfortunately, you paid the ultimate price: you died and became a martyr.

Or so...everyone thought.

Six years later, you wake up in the same spot you were in with no memory of the last near decade of your life. While only a night has gone by for you, for everyone else? A lifetime.

Everyone has moved on with their lives. The friends you considered family barely speak to each other, all of them haunted by everything that came after the fight. You have no recollection of anything…except something inside you knows your reappearance was no ordinary coincidence.

Especially when you begin to hear a voice in your head, commanding you, telling you to destroy everything in your path….

Stolen Resurrection is 18+ gritty IF that's a mixture of fame and super heroism. You are a member of the elite Legion, believed to be dead for half a decade until you wake up to a changed world six years later.

Customize your MC from personality, appearance, gender identity and their persona. Do they embrace the celebrity life or reject it? Do they love their position as someone forced to sacrifice their life for the good of the world or do they resent it?

Curate whether your MC will move on or stay stuck in the past. Choose how to approach every situation and every person from your past and present life.

Navigate a world in which you are famed for being a chosen one and choose how you approach that.

Wake up six years after people believing you dead. Deal with the aftermath of grief and loss you left in your wake.

Romance ROs with different personalities and different feelings/thoughts towards your 'resurrection' and everything else.

Character-driven narrative with an emphasis on the choices you make and the relationships you build.

Prepare and train for a villain who may or may not be using you as their puppet.

Die. And then come back to life.

THE EX FIANCÉ // THE SELLOUT: CATH HARRISON [M/F][RO]

Your ex and old Legion member, Cath has become the most prominent and beloved figure in New America. Once kind, charismatic, and a charmer, Cath is now the stoic poster child for the company that made Legion. So much so, that your old friends call them a sellout. Cal was proposing to you when everything went to hell all those years ago. When you return, you find them remarried. Cath has moved on...or have they?

THE OLD FRIEND // THE STRANGER: REA SANTOS [F][RO]

Once your closest friend and fellow Legion member, Rea has grown cold over the years, haunted by that fateful night. Even though she still has love for the team, she does her best to rebel as much as possible as revenge for the attack that took a life she can never get back. While she understands your disappearance and subsequent reappearance is not your fault, she can't help but blame you for not being around. Rea is a stranger to you now and whatever friendship you two had is successfully dead.

THE FORMER FAN // THE PRO: JAMES SATO [M][RO]

James, bright and wide-eyed, was once your biggest fan, gloating that he was going to apply to NAG Labs because of you. He also had a childish admiration for you that you found endearing at best and a nuisance at worse. Now, years later, James is somehow as old as you, has long moved on past his fan phase, and is the new head of the division that created you. Oddly enough, it feels weird without James Sato not following you around like a lost puppy. Have the roles reversed?

THE EX FLAME // THE HERMIT: NICO/NAOMI CARTER [M/F][RO]

Once the sunshine and comedic relief of the team, N has disappeared, becoming a shell of their former self. They do nothing else but stay in the bar, drinking their sorrows away. They are considered hostile and want nothing to do with the team or the Company since your death. N may have had feelings for you in the past, but you're not too sure. It's not as if you could ever pursue that years ago. Now? Well, it seems like it's all too late.

OTHER CHARACTERS

??? -- your hear them in your head. Is this the person who has trapped you all this time?

Ray Trent (m) -- your old teammate and close friend. No one speaks of Ray, and you wonder where's he gone and what he's been through that makes him such a sore topic for everyone.

Logan Kane (m) -- the new head of NAG and currently running for president of New America. The son of the now dead head that you were once close to. Logan doesn't trust you. Your reappearance has set him on edge.

Hello, if you'd like to know what happened and why this blog was deleted before. You can check here! Reblogs and everything else is appreciated! Thank you :)

#interactive fiction wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if wip #interactive wip #cog wip #choice of games #cog #cog if

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002yb · 7 months

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If I may, an Au where Jason and dick were together before Jason's death, so when Jason comes back it's Nightwing, not Batman he tries to get to kill the Joker.

The only tragedy is that Jason feels he has to force Dick's hand. He gives Dick an ultimatum as if Dick would ever refuse him. He tells Dick to choose as if there's a contest.

'Him or me.' Jason mourns, oblivious to the reality that Dick chose Jason a lifetime ago.

Jason anticipates betrayal. He waits for disappointment. What Jason doesn’t know is that loss twisted Dick until he broke and with those pieces he drew new lines and boundaries that begin and end with Jason: Dick's legacy, his Robin, his little wing.

There aren't enough bullets in the gun he's given, but that doesn't stop Dick from aiming where it will hurt the worst. It doesn't stop him from emptying it, seventeen rounds - vicious and brutal and cruel.

Dick shoots where Jason was mutilated; his ankle and knee and hip, his shoulders, his ribs. He spent months tormenting himself with Jason's autopsy report - mourning every wound and every desecration until it was burned into his memory, until it was all he saw and all he dreamed. Dick could aim to kill, but he wants Joker to hurt. He wants him to suffer.

Dick knows Joker was laughing when he killed Jason. It doesn't matter how filled with rage Dick is or what resolve vengeance blinds him with, Dick isn't laughing. All the anguish that's been caught in his chest is torn from him - a strangled, wounded, inhuman sound.

The only tragedy is that Jason thinks Dick didn't mourn him, that he hasn't felt his absence every day since Jason was taken away from him. It's Dick's greatest regret and his greatest failure that this boy would think for even a moment that Dick wasn't changed by him in life and death, that Dick didn't love him viscerally, unconditionally.

Jason pulls away from the carnage, staggering back from Dick’s line of fire. There's something helpless in his expression, something young although Jason is so much older than last Dick saw him. But Dick doesn't see him through the tears that well up in his eyes. He's blinded by hurt and regret. He chokes on all his grief because fuck this terror that's haunted and hurt Jason.

(And damn Dick, too, for not doing this sooner).

Seventeen rounds and it's not enough. It doesn't hurt enough. It's not personal enough, so Dick tosses the gun and stalks forward with bare fists and bared teeth. Joker went for Dick's heart; Dick will take Joker's - he'll steal every beat and give it back to the boy Joker took from him.

Dick still isn't laughing, but neither is Joker. He smiles though, all bite to match Dick’s snarl. His is a madness not even Joker has known and it's clear in Joker's eyes what he thinks; Dick feels it, too: oh, so this is a monster.

"See?" Joker asks through blood and broken teeth, a swollen face and gasping breaths and Dick hates him. He hates him, he hates him, he hates him. "Hehehe, you see!"

Dick doesn't see anything but opportunity to lay a devil to rest and give a boy he loves peace. It doesn't matter to Dick what happens from here, just let Jason rest. Let that boy rest.

Dick will cross whatever lines he needs if it's Jason on the other side. He'll go to whatever lengths because Dick should have done this years ago; he should have followed through, but Jason was gone and Dick thinks he wanted to torment himself with his failures.

No more, Dick thinks to himself. No more.

Jason has always been the braver between them though - always painstakingly, heartrendingly kind.

It's why Jason stops him. It's why Jason wraps himself around Dick and forces him back and keeps Dick away. He stops Dick from crossing that line, holding Dick tightly, fiercely because Jason recognizes Dick's torment and how Jason's demands will add to it once all the adrenaline passes.

And Jason can't - he can't kill Dick in that way.

But Dick can. He will. He would do anything to give this ghost of a boy peace so that he might move on. Dick has to let him - he has to...

Dick fights him, jerking in Jason's hold to finish what he started. Desperate, frenzied, mad. His voice breaks when he screams and Jason's heart breaks along with it because it's everything he's felt for years.

"He took you from me." Dick cries, holding fast to Jason and letting go of everything else to cling to him. Hands bloodied and bruised and trembling because they can't pull Jason close enough. "He took you from me!"

#dickjay #jaydick #sad vibes #words

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chasingfictions · 1 year

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shauna killing rabbits being immediately something you think of as her trying to kill jackie again and again -- jackie with her big ass rabbit eyes, jackie's parents projecting a love of rabbits onto her. but what if it's actually shauna trying to kill the thing that killed jackie. shauna impales a rabbit in the garden with a shovel. shauna skins a rabbit, splits it chin to anus, and chops it up into dinner. what if, and i think it is, shauna just metaphorically trying to keep killing herself. to keep killing the taylors. the two forces that dominated jackie's entire short life, which purported to love jackie, which did love jackie, but who also heaped upon jackie so much suffering along with it.

mr. and mrs. taylor impose rabbits on jackie even though jackie can't stand them, and then give those rabbit emblems to shauna supposedly in memorial to her but actually in a memorial to shauna's guilt and grief. it turns shauna's whole house into a mausoleum for jackie's death even more than it already is by virtue of being a suburban house in wiskayok with jeff sadecki. and shauna can't smash the ceramic rabbits that watch her unpack mushrooms in her kitchen every week, so she smashes in the neck of an actual rabbit and it's as close as she can get. like the thing with jackie is that she's the archetypal dead girl and she is doomed to only have lived this tiny sliver of life, and the thing with jackie is that her death is the whole point and the thing with jackie is that her death is constantly encircling shauna's neck like a garland of dried mums. the thing about jackie is that all the major facets of her life just then become things that inevitably lead up to and make up the conditions of her death because there isn't enough time for them to be anything else.

shauna keeps killing rabbits because she keeps trying to kill the things that made jackie dead. but rabbits literally breed like, well, rabbits. she can kill every one that hops into her garden and she can smash every ceramic bunny that watches her all day long in her kitchen, and jackie will still be dead, and shauna will still be, on some level, on most levels, on what is usually the only level that matters if you were to ask the two of them, the one who put her there. it's not changeable, it's just fact. we were kids and it was awful. it's not your fault, it's totally your fault. rabbits exist and always will. shauna's life will always encompass the entirety of jackie's, and all the things that made jackie's life short enough to be encompassable. shauna's life will always extend past the bounds of what jackie's was ever going to be, and will still always just be hemmed in by the tiny length of jackie's life all the while. it's just haunting and being haunted. and none of that can ever change. so in the meantime, shauna just keeps killing rabbits.

#yellowjackets meta #SORRY I GOT EMOTIONAL ABOUT A SHITPOST ABOUT ANIMALS!!!!! AND NOW HERE WE ARE #yellowjackets #shaunajackie #shauna shipman #jackie taylor

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eroticwound · 3 months

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I love your thoughts on The Bear. Particularly the Berzatto siblings. I was wondering if you could talk about Mikey. And possibly his relationship with Richie. Outside of the internet when I talk to peers about the show people are quick to demonize or dislike Mikey. They cite his behavior with Lee and his taking part in ganging up on Carmy with Donna as reasons why. Also, how Richie was so desperate to get away from the beef.

I would love to hear your opinion about how this could be someone’s impression of Mikey. And how you would describe Mikey to someone who maybe isn’t seeing the whole picture? Or just how you would describe Mikey as a person in general.

And do you think his relationship with Richie was very one sided? Do you think it was always Mikey in the lead? I’ve read some fic that truly makes Mikey terrible to Richie.

Hi anon. Thanks for this incredibly thought out ask. Cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoy getting questions like this :)

Michael Berzatto is a complicated guy and he’s a guy we don’t get a lot of screen time with. That’s by design. He’s the character haunting this narrative. Mikey is the Laura Palmer of The Bear (I have that disease where I see everything through the prism of Twin Peaks), and as such we get to know him mostly through people’s grief. Through their imperfect memories. We’re left missing him just as much as any other character. And while I would love a feature length movie showing Mikey’s last days a la Fire Walk with Me, I very much doubt we will get that. So we’re left to figure out this complicated character with scraps.

For these reasons, I do get why people don't understand Mikey. As you mention, they are literally not given anything close to a whole picture. In fact the screen time we have most with him is during Fishes, when he is quite literally at his worst. If people only saw scenes where Carmen was yelling at people in the kitchen or where Richie was being sexist to Syd, I'm sure they'd have a poor opinion of them as well (in fact, being in this fandom after the first season, I can confirm that most of tumblr disliked Richie).

The healthiest we see Michael is in the Ceres flashback in season 1. He’s exactly how everyone describes him: loud, brash, funny. Both Carmy and Richie are just having the best time, completely immersed in the story he's telling. Even Nat’s having a great time, though both brothers stop her from adding raisins, which is Donna’s recipe for the dish they're making (side note, I find it so interesting that Nat is the one trying to follow their mom’s recipe. She's still trying to please Donna, to garner favor, whereas the boys, who Donna relies on in the kitchen and emotionally, feel fine deviating from Donna’s recipe). Even beyond the Ceres flashback, we do get flashes of what makes Mikey great in Fishes: the opening is him checking in on Natalie, he's really sweet and engaging with Carmen in the pantry, and even though Carmy doesn't take Mikey and Richie trying to set him up with Claire well, it's still proof that Mikey cares.

The thing is Mikey is mentally ill, like Donna and like Carmen. He’s dealing with some sort of chemical imbalance (depression or bipolar) on top of the severe parentification he got from Donna. I talk about it at length in my unfinished series delving into the partentification of the Berzatto siblings. As I point out in those posts, Mikey is actually the sibling getting the worst of the parentification, which is a form of abuse where there is a role-reversal between parent and child. Nat can't morph herself easily to accommodate Donna's dysfunction (she un-normalizes it), so she gets Donna's ire instead. Carmen was also parentified, especially when Mikey was out of the house growing up (they have such an age gap), but Mikey was the oldest. He has high EQ and can morph himself to accommodate Donna's dysfunction. It has in fact shaped him into the person he is. Which is someone who is trying to avoid all of the bad: bad outbursts from Donna, bad feelings from his siblings, bad reactions from outsiders to their family dynamic. He's also trying very hard to avoid the bad emotions he's feeling. Michael is looking to avoid all of this through any means necessary, which includes using alcohol and drugs. As I mention in that parentification meta series, using substances is quite literally the only way he's managing his distress.

I want to talk about each point you mention people citing as to why they don't like Michael. But first, I want to preface it by pointing out that Michael has been forced to move back in with Donna. His failed business ventures and poor mental health have forced him back into this scenario that is NOT GOOD FOR HIM. That scene where Cousin Michelle says to Carm that it's not good for him to be in this environment? Well, it's not good for any of the Berzatto siblings. And throughout the episode, you can tell how exhausted Mikey is by it. By having to fulfill his role as Donna's pseudo-partner.

So let's start with Michael and Donna ganging up on Carmen in the kitchen. When Donna and Mikey do this they are functioning as a parental unit. This is the perfect example of Mikey's parentification at work, of Michael acting as Donna's partner. It's what he's been trained to do to maintain the delicate ecosystem of that house. Donna's emotional state is given top priority. Everyone else's emotions fall to the wayside in light of what she's feeling, otherwise you get fallout like her crashing her car into the house. Mikey talks to Nat about this at the start of the episode:

What do you think she's at right now? A 4? A 5? She's not at a 6.

The siblings literally have a rating system for Donna's moods. They're all trying to avoid escalation above all else. Michael in particular. So in that scene with Carm in the kitchen, Mikey is trying to keep things from escalating. This is something Carmen knows too—hell, it's the first thing Carmen asks Mikey to do in Fishes:

Hey Mikey can you come inside and be you for a little bit, I don't know how to deal with these people.

Carmy needs Michael to come fill his role of buffer between guests and their family. Carmy, notably, gets Donna duty—a role I'm sure Mikey filled before Carmen came along. I say this based on Donna calling Carmen "Michael" when he's trying to coax her to the dinner table at the end of the episode. She's implying talking to her like this is what Michael does. When the people you know irl cite this moment, unfortunately this is the rebuttal: this is Mikey's role. Donna needs his emotional support. Otherwise she'd be more abusive towards Nat and Carm. Michael is doing it for the greater good.

As for Lee, that's another great example of soooo much being implied. Lee, along with Cicero, were best friends with their father, and it is heavily implied that Lee and Donna had a fling or two after their dad fucks off (whether Mr. Berzatto is dead or a deadbeat, who’s to say?). When Lee is helping Donna clean shit off the floor, Mikey grabs a beer from the fridge and asks if they are "doing this again." Basically, Lee and Donna have been romantic before. This means Lee would have been around erratically growing up. And it's clear Michael and Lee have a historic antagonism because of this. Lee's first interaction with Michael in the episode has him threatening to "lay [Michael] out." This screams to me that Lee stepped into the man of the house role, and that Mikey and him had altercations that got physically violent. That's why Mikey says at the dinner table, "I can throw forks cuz this is my father's house." That feels very much like something a kid would say to a man who is trying to replace a missing father. And it's especially heated, because it is Michael who has had to consistently step into the man of the house role for Donna and for his siblings! Michael couldn't leave like Lee when Donna and him broke up. Living with Donna and keeping his siblings ok is daily life for Michael.

So all through the episode, Lee is poking a bear (Mikey Bear to be exact). Lee calls him out about telling the same old stories, embarrasses him in front of everyone by revealing he's borrowed money from Cicero and had to move back in with Donna. Lee has been explicitly disrespecting him. And maybe if Mikey was in a better place, he would have been able to roll with it, but as I mentioned before, Mikey is not in a good place. He's depressed, he's been drinking and taking something (pain pills?) to manage the stress he's under. Him throwing forks is not a lucid reaction. Frankly, if people don't also blame Lee for that outburst, then they really weren't paying attention during the episode.

Finally, onto the Richie portion of your question. Richie’s family is something I would *love* to get more canon info about. All we know is that he's not Italian but Polish, his home life wasn’t great, his dad sucked, and Donna allowed him over so often that he’s practically her fourth child.

Richie and Michael grew up together. They're best friends, practically family. It's why Richie is "cousin." Michael's relationship with Richie is his closest relationship. Everyone says Mikey was their best friend, but Mikey's actual best friend was Richie. Period. And there's some complicated jealousy between Carmen and Richie because of what each is to Michael: Carmy's jealous of Richie and Michael's genuine closeness, and Richie is jealous that Mikey has special regard for Carmen as his actual brother. You see this jealousy in the very first episode of the show during that first walk-in fight: Richie was there for Mikey, buried Mikey and took care of Donna, and yet Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen. Left the money in cans for Carmen, so he could fulfill their dream restaurant together. There's honestly some great fic out there that goes into this jealousy. I'll come back to link it if I can find it.

Bottom line is that Richie was the closest person in Mikey's life. They have the same humor, the same life experiences. They had each other's backs. So when you ask if Richie and Michael's relationship was one-sided, I'm going to answer with a resounding no. They're literally besties. It's just by Fishes, Michael has deteriorated. His depression and drug abuse and failures have shrunk his life. Just compare where they're both at: Michael's moved back in with his mom, is single, and is telling the same old stories from their youth. Richie, on the other hand, might have anxiety (the xanax from Dogs <3), but he's in a stable and loving relationship and has a child on the way. That's why Richie asks Cicero for a job—not to get away from Mikey, but to make more money for his expanding family. And yes, he wants to amount to something more than working at a sandwich shop, but hell, so does Mikey. Neither of them want that for the rest of their lives. It's why Michael tried other business ventures. They fail, so he's stuck at The Beef. But it's a weight around his neck bringing him down. He says as much to Carmen when they're in the pantry:

Yeah but the place is no good, Carmy. It's a fucking nightmare. Like trust me I'm doing you a favor.

He even tries to set it on fire for the insurance money! Only Carmen sees the potential.

As for whether it was always Mikey taking the lead, I do think there's some merit to that. Mikey is talked about as more charming than Richie. You see it in Ceres when the edit compares Mikey telling the Bill Murray story to Richie telling the Bill Murray story to his date. Mikey is loud and funny and can "dial a room." Richie can too, but I think Mikey has more finesse. Still, they rely on each other. They back each other up. Michael would hook people with the stories, and Richie would embellish and inject at the right points or reel Mikey in when needed. They supported each other and worked together. I think any fic you might be reading that's demonizing Michael isn't accurate to his character and is actually falling into a pretty common fic trope: if the focus is Character A, then a fic author will cast Character B as the villain in order to serve whatever they're writing, twisting and embellishing the traits of Character B until they’re barely recognizable. Could Mikey be dismissive and hard to contain? Sure, but I don't think that means he didn't love Richie, or was undemonstrative with his affections. Even when Michael was out of it on drugs, they still had a very close relationship—Richie says so. In fact, everything Richie says about Michael supports this. I see zero support in canon for their relationship being one-sided. I'll say it again, they loved each other.

So this is how I would describe Mikey: loud, funny, obnoxious. He could dial a room. He cared deeply for his family, friends, and employees. He suffered parentification and has some sort of chemical imbalance. In fact, because he was charming and loud and funny, people could ignore his deterioration. Even Richie says, "he was Mikey Bear! I thought he'd come out of it," because he was able to come out of it up to that point. But after decades of not treating the problem, the only solution Michael could see was killing himself. He's a complicated character. He's a tragic character. He's the Laura Palmer of The Bear.

#michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich #the bear #bear meta #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #donna berzatto #natalie berzatto #lee the bear #parentification #ask #anon #ok to reblog #obsessed with this question actually it's like a multi-part question i'd get on a test in school <3

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frociaggine · 13 days

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hi, i've been following you for a while now because it seems we have similar taste in media (especially thematically). an agonizing event occurred last week that's left me somewhat selectively mute and unable to work. i can't find joy or interest or love for anything. the locked tomb has always been there for me during my lowest points (me and harrow are like this 🤞) but i'm in such a horrible place that not even muir is helping. i love reading your TLT metas and trust your judgement based on those, so i was wondering if you had any recommendations for books/media that deals with grief and loss in fantastical settings. or just big, messy, taboo feelings in general. i'm looking for anything at this point.

Hi anon, sorry to hear this and I really hope you feel better soon. I'm sending you a big hug if you want it and I'm thinking of you very fondly. I'm not sure I can recommend exactly what you're asking for but I dearly hope some of these can distract you a bit. Please let me know if you want further content warnings + if anyone else has recs, feel free to chime in!

The Screwfly Solution by James Tiptree Jr. — This is a short story that I reread about once a year when I really want something that'll hit and fuck me up. You can find it in full here. It's an apocalyptic short story, very haunting, and the last line hits like a punch in the gut. CW for gendered violence all over the place if that's something you'd rather avoid.

The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende — This is a generational saga set in 20th century Cile. It isn't sff, although it does have some magical realism elements, so I'm chetaing and putting it in here anyway. The first time I read it, it made me cry, and it remains my favourite Allende novel.

The Last Man Alive by A.S. Neill — A middle grade speculative fiction written in 1930s Britain, which is ostensibly for kids but, in the tradition of British children's literature, gets pretty fucking dark and creepy. It's about a group of schoolchildren and their teacher who survived a poisonous cloud that turned everyone else into stone, and by everyone else I mean the entire world. It gets pretty dark at times, and I remember being sucked-punched finishing the book and reading in the afterword what happened to each of the children who were the inspiration for the characters in the book. It's a very weird little novel, but also interesting in that "vintage scifi" vibe.

Cuckoo Song by Frances Hardinge — This is another middle grade novel and probably the lightest read of this entire fic; [spoilers ahead] it's about a changeling who doesn't have a memory of being made, and at first thinks she is the human girl she was meant to replace, and only slowly realises that something is wrong. It's ultimately a feel-good story but I found it bittersweet all around, and I think the themes of identity and self growth + the creepy fairytale vibes make it worth a rec in case you think it could help right now.

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica — This is a book about the mundane day-to-day happenings in a dystopia where cannibalism has been legitimised as a form of population control, and large swats of people are regarded as subhuman and eaten. It's very bleak and more plot driven than character-driven, so I'm hesitant to rec it if your usual go-to is TLT; but I think the story does very good things with the tight narrator POV + there are themes of alienations from family, eldercare and anticipation of grief. It's definitely a story that fucked me up a bit.

+ not sff in the least, but I finished this book very recently and it's still on my mind: I recently read The Manicurist's Daughter, a memoir that's primarily about dealing with grief from the loss of a parent, and how grief can destroy a family + trying to reconnect despite that. It's not exactly engrossing in parts, and I'm not sure I should rec it here because I found it too slow-paced to count as a real "cathartic read" but there was something about the numbness after suffering a loss and the ugly side of it that really spoke to me.

+ not a book and I haven't watched it in years but I think you might enjoy Revolutionary Girl Utena if you haven't seen it already. It spoke to me in the same way some parts of TLT do (and it's very gay)

#Anonymous #ask #book talk #<3333333

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valkyrieromanoff · 1 year

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LAST HOPE - Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When Reader needs medicine for her little son, Joel is her last hope.

Warnings: Series events, little violence, bad language, age difference.

Words count: 2.8k.

A/N: It basically brings the facts of The last of us with the inclusion of the reader. I hope you enjoy it. When I had this idea I didn't imagine how a small child could get in the way in an apocalyptic situation. I hope it works out!

Let me know if you have any suggestions for improving the series!🥰

CHAPTER ONE:

"Eight hundred? Come on, that's too much for six pills." You retorted, staring at the older man sitting behind a rusty table.He didn't even move, nonchalantly rolling a cigarette, as if customer dissatisfaction was something he was used to.

"Well, if you don't want it, there are those who do." He spoke, pausingly lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag.

"I don't have that much money, not right now at least." You confessed, pacing anxiously around the dimly lit room, stepping distractedly in pots of water. "I can give you what I have, and then what's missing."

"I'm not a bank, darling." He stated, turning the page of his greasy notebook that noted down the orders. "If you don't have the eight hundred by the end of the day, consider this business finished."

"Shit." You cursed, turning away, and ran up the steep staircase. It had been a waste of possibly hours of service; you were lost in your thoughts, staring at your own beat-up sneakers. You didn't even realize you had entered a busy alley; your shoulder bumped into a firm body. "I didn't see you." You grumbled, turning to go around, but the woman remained still. "Are you going to get out of my way or what?"

The woman didn't answer; she looked straight ahead as if she didn't notice your presence and slipped a piece of paper into your pocket. You frowned in confusion, about to argue, when she shushed you with a nervous look. "Do not leave after curfew." Having said that, the woman blended into the crowd, disappearing from your sight.

You let your feet guide you home, your mind working intensely, not understanding at all what had just happened. Only when you locked the door to your old apartment did you allow yourself to sigh and pull the paper from your pocket. "Joel Miller." You read it; there was an address underneath. You hoped this Joel could help; after all, he was your last hope.

A noise coming from the bedroom made you run into the room. You sighed with relief, realizing that it was only Caleb, your three-year-old son, who had come out of the hiding place you had improvised in the closet. "Hi, my love, did you miss me?" you asked, ruffling his curls. He smiled, lifting his little arms for you to pick him up.

You relaxed, taking him in your arms. He rested his head on your shoulder, looking expectantly at your chest. Damn, he must have been hungry. You went to the kitchen and diluted half a spoonful of baby food mix in warm water. "Here, you can take it; mommy is going to check something." You spoke, leaving him with the bottle. You began to pack your backpack, placing maps, flashlights, and some supplies. With a quick glance at the street and no sign of movement, you opened a kitchen drawer, pushing the false bottom aside, and grabbed a pistol and some ammunition.

_____________

Joel woke up panting, his body tired as if he hadn't slept, his chest up and down in an agitated rhythm, his dreams were haunted by the memories of his last anniversary with Sarah, when his daughter died in his arms.

Twenty years. Twenty years that he can't sleep without his meds; twenty years that he blames himself for what happened; twenty years that he wonders what he could have done differently; what if he had come back sooner; what if he thought faster; a myriad of what ifs... However, you can't change the past, so Joel carries the burden of grief, fear, despair, and the guilt of having survived. He moves on, hides his emotions, and assumes an unwavering mask of complete disdain for life.

His bones crack as he writhes. Tess pass some coffee as he moves closer to the table, and shortly after that, she comes to sit down. Joel is concerned about her facial bruising.

“I got jumped by a couple guys.” She explains, taking a sip of coffee.

“What guys?”

“Just a couple teenagers. Said some shit, probably shouldn’t have.”

Joel dips a cloth in some whiskey and holds her face, wiping it gently. He inspects the bruises.

“These aren’t new.” He affirms, gently turning her face so that he can look both ways.

“No. I was FEDRA lockup. All day.” She sighs. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I need you to take a break.”

“What?” Joel asks suspiciously.

“Joel…”

“What?” He repeats, dropping the cloth on the table.

“The guys who jumped me were with Robert. He sold our battery to someone else.”

With his hands, Joel buries his head.

“Nothing’s lost. Now, shit like this is gonna happen. Now we just shake it off and we go get our cards back, or the battery” She affirmed.

“I need the battery, Tess.” Joel interrupts her, knocking on the table and walking away. “Truck’s not good without one, and if I don’t get to Tommy soon, he’s gonna die out there!”

“Okay, fuck it!” Tess curses, walking over to him.“We get our money back and the battery, but Joel, listen. Robert is terrified of you. So march out of here, all Clint Easwood, he’s gonna get wind of it and skip. I need you to take a breath.”

“Who’d he sell it to?” Joel asked, incisively.

"That's what we're going to find out." Tess promised.

_____________

“How far up we goin’?” Joel asked, checking the building's floor once more.

“Uh… this far. So this… this open the hallway” Tess answered, pushing the door. A grunt escaped when nothing moved. “What the fuck? Someone put a piano in front of this?”

Joel moved closer, recognizing the striking smell. "You smell that?" he asked, holding the pistol steady as he stared at the blood dripping from the door sill.

"Yeah... gunpowder." Tess confirmed, pushing on the door, this time opening it.

"Tess" Joel said as he followed her into the other corridor.

"Well, the battery's not good. And he still tried to sell it twice. You greedy fuck." She muttered, walking past the fallen body.

The sound of a door opening draws their attention, Joel points the gun forward, where Marlene looks to Kim for support, both visibly bruised.

“Joel?”

“Marlene?”

A girl ran by before they could comprehend what was going on, and Joel instinctively pushed her against the wall. He moves faster, moving over and pointing his gun at her as she tries to grab her knife. Leaving him in the sights of the remaining flyfires.

“What do you need a car battery for?” Joel questioned without taking his gun's focus from the girl, who was attempting to reclaim her knife.

“Don’t. Not at her. Point it at me.” Marlene asked, lowering her own gun. “And to answer your question, I need it for a better reason than you do. No offense, but Tommy’s just one man. It’s our business to know things.”

“To know things.” Joel repeated dismissively. “You’re the cause of it. You turned my own brother against me.”

Before they could think of an answer, the door opened again, revealing a young woman holding a pistol. She was not FEDRA, at least not in uniform.

"How the hell are you?" Tess asked, exasperated.

“We don’t have time.” Marlene said, ignoring her. “We were gonna move Ellie outta the zone tonight. But we won’t make it anywhere like this. So you’re gonna do it.”

“The hell we are.” Joel cursed..

“I’m not goin’ with them!” Ellie protested.

“I know what’s out there. We were going with an entire squadron for that very reason. But now I don’t have a truck, I don’t have a squadron, FEDRA’s five minutes away. What I do have is you. And I know what you’re both capable of. For better or worse.” While glancing fearfully out the window, Marlene overlapped.

"What are they capable of?" Ellie asked, apprehensive.

Tess pulled Joel into the corner of the hallway, debating their options silently. Every now and then staring at the rest of the people in the room.

“Y’all talk it through, but please remember that I’m bleeding out.”

Marlene reminded them, compressing her bruise, the bloodstain growing larger and larger.

Tess looked at Joel one last time before negotiating.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. We’ll get her to your crew at the State House. But before we hand her over, they give us everything we want. If not, we kill her, there and then.”

“Deal.” Marlene hastily agreed.

"Really? The fast?" Ellie questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Please, go get your backpack, now." Marlene asked.

Joel stepped forward, waiting for the girl to get her things. Tess stayed a few feet behind, talking to the unknown woman. She interspersed between Joel's back and the destroyed hallway.

"Let's go." Tess stated, as Ellie returned, with her backpack on her back.

The group headed toward the exit. Miller stared at the unknown woman with apprehension; apparently, they were all going to leave the building together.

"Joel...don't fuck this up. Please." Marlene pleaded, before her voice was muffled by the distance.

____________

When they arrived at Joel's apartment, Tess asked Ellie to wait for them inside so they could talk.

"What the fuck?!" Miller asked, rubbing his forehead. "So, what's the plan?"

“Hm. There’s not a lot of options. There’s the short way or the long way.” Tess pondered. “The short way is pretty much…”

“That leaves the long way.” Joel agreed. “Things look bad.”

“We’ll have to drop, head to Bill and Frank’s. Stock up on anything we may need.” Ela concluded. “We leave after dark. Stay with the kid.”

"Wait. Why do I have to? Tess?" Joel called out to her, the woman just shook her head.

"Uhm, that girl from earlier today is coming to talk to you." She warned, walking away. "Something about meds."

Joel sighed, there was no point in wasting his energy arguing. He walked into his apartment, collapsing onto the couch and closing his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, sitting down in the armchair.

“Killing time.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?!” She asked, crossing her arms, bored.

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out.” Ele replied.

Ellie picked up the music book from the table and walked over to the window.

“Your watch is broken.”She retorted, annoyed.

Joel opened his eyes, gave a long sigh, and closed them again.

____________

The sound of knocking on the door woke him up. He opened his eyes, his whole body on alert, and brought a finger to his lip, urging Ellie to be quiet. Joel walked to the door, opening just a crack. He stared at you.

"Tess told you that I..."

"Look, I don't know what you want but you're not going to get it." He interrupted you, without patience. "If you want to get high, find someone else." He affirmed, pushing the door close, but you put your foot on the threshold to stop it.

"I understand that your day sucks, but we all live in this fucked up world." You stated, irritated. "Tess said you were going to listen to me, so can I come in?"

Joel grumbled, releasing the door and walking away, already wondering what mess Tess had gotten them into. Two in less than five hours was a record even for them.

"Go to the bedroom." He said to Ellie. "What do you want?" Joel noticed that next to you was a little boy who looked to be four years old at most.

"I need diabetes medication, Tess said you can get it." You spoke bluntly. "I have four hundred now, I can get the rest later."

You waited a few seconds, the man in front of you seemed to be considering, his expression was so neutral that you couldn't even infer what he was thinking.

"No." He stated, leaning back against the couch.

You looked at him in disbelief, your anger pulsing.

"Go to the kitchen, sweetie, okay?" You asked your son, who went without complaint. When you realized that he was far away, you snapped. "What the hell, Tess already agreed, so it's not like we were arguing about whether or not this was going to happen."

Joel looked at you in disbelief. What in the world was Tess thinking when she agreed to it? With three people, it was already risky to leave the quarantine zone, so would it be foolish with five? And a fucking child?

"Look, I don't know what Tess promised you but it's not gonna happen. It's a war zone out there, you don't want to go." Joel spoke, trying to be rational.

"My son has diabetes, this fucking disease could kill him if he's not medicated." You retorted angrily. "It's not about fucking wanting to or not, it's my son's life that's at stake."

Joel sighed, memories of his daughter dying in his arms plagued his mind, when it all became too much and the blood palpable, he stood up from the couch, stepping away.

"Promise you'll do as I say." He demanded, running his hand through his hair. "I'm not going to risk this going wrong because of you."

"I won't cause any trouble." You assured.

Joel nodded in agreement, it was going to be a long night.

_____________

Joel walked in front of you leading the way, and you followed carefully, taking care not to make any noise. When you turned right, you could see the great concrete walls of the quarantine zone, creating a fortress protected from the infected. One wrong step, and soon a guard saw you out of the corner of his eye, trying to sneak out.

Hey, hey, don’t move. Don’t move!” He spoke up, lifting his helmet as he recognized Joel. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

“Okay, let’s talk this out.” Joel tried to make an argument.

“Turn around.” Lee commanded.

“Hold on” Ele asked.

“Get on your fuckin’ knees. Get on your fuckin’ knees!” Lee shouted.

“Hold on…” Miller insisted.

“What’d I fuckin’ tell you, man? I said ‘stay the fuck home’. Get on your knees!”

“Just get on your knees. Just get on your kness!” Tess exclaimed, making everyone follow her. “Listen. You let us do this run… We’ll split the cards with you.”

“Oh, you will? I’m so blessed.” Lee mocked.. “Hands on your head, eyes forward.”

He brought the scanner to Tess' neck.

“Really, man?”

“Yep. We’re doing this by the book.”

Lee continued to pass the scanner, your son squeezed your hand in fright. You noticed that the girl next to you seemed nervous.

“All right, what about three quarters?” Lee suggested. “Unauthorized exit. They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine, everything off of this run. And half on all the pills!” Joel bargained.

“Half off? All off.” The guard replied. “Risk my job for half off.. You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.”

Tess tried to negotiate but to no avail. When Lee scanned Ellie, she stuck the knife in his leg.

"Ellie, Ellie, what the..." Tess muttered.

"Fuck' bitch! fuck!" Lee exclaimed, reaching for his gun, Joel approached.... "Get out of the fuck' way!"

"Whoa, whoa! We can fix this." He ordered, raising his hands.

"Move!" Lee shouted, leaving Ellie in the gun sights.

Joel stood in his way as memories of traumatic events—a military man aiming his rifle at a young girl he had pledged to protect—came flooding back. Flashes of the night Sarah was murdered burst in his head, the viscous memory of blood mingling with that on his hands. He didn't know what he was doing; a wave of rage overcame him, and his fists took the life of the military guy. You covered your son's eyes so he couldn't see what was going on. Ellie gave him a captivated look.

Tess grabbed the scanner off the ground while the red light was still on.

"No, no, I'm not sick!" Ellie stated anxiously.

You stepped back, placing your son behind your body, as if it were a protective barrier.

"Joel, Joel," Tess shouted, showing the scanner.

"I am not sick. Look, look! This is three weeks old." Ellie spoke up, showing the bite on her already healed arm.

"Nobody lasts more than a day! You mumbled, confused.

“Does this look a day old to you? She would’ve killed me.” Ellie said, desperate..

“I should fuckin’ kill you. When did it happen?” Tess asked, running a hand through her hair.

“It doesn’t matter. You have to trust me.” Ellie asked.

As she positioned her backpack on her back, the older woman sighed.

“They’re gonna catch us if we don’t run! Joel, we gotta move.” Tess said. “We gotta move, Joel!”

As you watched Joel move his hands, you could see several scratches and bruises on his knuckles. He took the gun from Lee, slung over his shoulder. You turned your head away as you crossed the ditch on the galvanized wire with your son on your lap.

In the meantime, a song started to play on the radio in Joel's empty apartment: I'm taking a ride with my best friend,I hope he never lets me down again, He knows where he's taking me…

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal imagine

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thewildchild13915 · 1 year

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Sibling grief is weird.

With sibling grief you're grieving more than just the loss of your sibling.

You're grieving the life you had before you lost your sibling.

You're grieving the loss of who your parents were before your sibling died

You're grieving the loss of the future you'd prepared for

You're grieving the loss of the family unit as you'd known it

You're grieving the loss of who you were before they died

You're grieving the loss of your best friend

Before my brother died, I had plans for how the future would be. Family holidays with our kids, major life events being celebrated together, family vacations, so many memories to be made.

All of those were lost when he died. An entire future full of plans just.... Gone.

Finished.

Now I'm only left with the haunting visions of watching him go, with the sounds of our parents sobbing and begging for this to not be happening, with hearing the love of his life begging for more time and promising to make the rest of his life everything we'd always dreamed for him, with remembering both the feeling of his warm hands AND the feeling of his lifeless, cold hands.

Before my brother died, our parents were mostly happy.

Parents change after the loss of a child, regardless of the age of said child. That change can go 1 of 2 ways and it is usually to the extreme of whichever way they go.

Way 1: they're going to be extremely clingy with their remaining child(ren). They will want them close.

Way 2: they're going to become extremely distant with their remaining child (ren).

My mom quietly went with way 1. She tries to not show it, but I know it. She still has her moments where she's distant, but she won't even entrain the idea of us being far away from her. She wants all of us near her.

My dad went with way 2. I've always felt like my dad absolutely hated me. There was no proud father moment when I got married, no "you look beautiful" comments, or any heart touching moments really. It's always been he was there, but quietly wondering how quickly he could leave. Sure there were moments when he really came through and made me feel like he cared. I can't say there weren't ANY.

But after losing my brother, I feel like I completely lost my dad. He barely acknowledges I'm there, he flat out ignores me when I say "I love you", but he will say it to everyone around me, he doesn't even try to hide the fact that he does NOT want to be wherever I am. In my heart I feel that he believes the wrong child died and that it should've been me. I have never felt like more of a burden than I do now.

Before my brother died, my mom always told us "nurture your relationship with each other because when your dad and I are gone, you're only going to have each other". That was the future I'd prepared for. Now, when my parents are gone I will be alone. I'll have no one to grieve that loss with. Our future was supposed to be long and fruitful, with so many memories to be made... I was not prepared for the future I'm going to have.

Before my brother died, we were a family of 4. He was my big brother. Sure our family expanded as we got older. We had significant others and kids, but our family unit was 4. Now, it's only 3.

I'm no longer the little sister.

I'm the surviving sister.

Before my brother died, I was happy. Sure I dealt with some mental health issues, but he always helped to keep my grounded. He was who I called when I felt like I was losing my grip. He was my rock. He was my best friend. He always made sure I was ok, that his nieces and nephews were ok, that everyone had what they needed. He was my go-to person for everything.

I used to get so irritated because he'd always call me when bad weather was moving in. He'd give me all these instructions on things I needed to do to be prepared, he'd make sure I was making sure the kids had everything they needed.. it could be so exhausting sometimes.

God how I miss those phone calls.

Now that he's gone I find myself riddled with anxiety and anger. I have no idea who I am anymore because I do not feel like me anymore. I feel like a part of me went with him. The strong part went with him.

Now that he's gone I feel so alone, even with the rest of my family right beside me.

I try to grieve quietly. I try to do it alone as much as possible so that it doesn't make those around me sad.

Sibling grief is weird..

It's lonely

Unless you are the surviving sibling, you could never understand.

#coping with grief #dealing with grief #grief #griefandloss #grieving #it's okay to grieve #sibling loss #siblings #brother #covid 19 #grief journal #grief/mourning #stages of grief #i am alone #sibling death tw #big brother #surviving

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baki-tiene-un-simp · 8 months

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Hi,i know that i literlly made an ask minutes ago but i also wanted to request some other hc involving the prior hc that i just made, those hc where the S/O doesn't make it and dies with musashi and mumon but instead of coming back as a spirit they reicarnate in another realm for example like retsu did in his isekai but they reicarnate in another being that isn't human like a fairy or an angel or even some sort of paranormal entety in that realm and they have some foggy memories of musashi/mumon but they try to and they end up starting to have flashbacks of themselfs with them and they go on a journey to go back to the human realm and do it but they fear that musashi/mumon would find them disgusting or have moved on so they kind of like protect/haunt them to make sure they are ok and slowly reintroduce themselfs, i also wanted to know how they would react with their return (by the way this is all after like 2 years on the human realm wich equats to like 20 years on the other realm but the S/O is imortal and has cool powers) and if they would accepr them back as their companion and would start over or continue and what would change.

Sorry that this ask is so long but i had some sort of creativity boost at liek 5:00 A.M and i can't sleep so... sorry if i told any spoiler about retsu's isekai but that is the best example i can get.

I hope that everything is ok with you and that you have a good day and sleep well, because i can't sleep.

Here are some kisses and bear hugs

I'm not really sure how to develop this without having to properly personify and describe the S/O when we want to know what Mumon and Musashi think, but I tried my best to keep it neutral.

Situation: S/O's Isekai? / Isakai del S/O.

Characters: Mumon Katsuragi and Musashi Miyamoto.

Mumon Katsuragi.

He is restless, that feeling of being watched persists even when he is in the company of others. At first he thought it was his brain's way of processing his grief; he thought that feeling a little paranoid was typical for people who were grieving.

But he just didn't feel human the way he was watching, he wasn't watched by a normal person. It was a heavy and embracing feeling, like a person with overwhelming power.

He is more likely to use amulets to ward off spirits or ghosts, he is exactly that kind of person. He feels a little calmer, but it doesn't last too long.

At first he assumed he was dreaming, it was simply the smartest thing to do in his situation, in the middle of the night a creature materialized next to his bed. His body was bathed in an ethereal light that glowed a luminous gold, giving them an angelic and inhuman appearance that captivated him. Their features were simply familiar, but the sleepy haze that filled his senses made it impossible to recognize that face.

It wasn't until you smiled and leaned in to whisper soft words in his ear that he was able to recognize you, he didn't consider that it was your new identity as an elf, but that you were still just as beautiful as when you left his side.

He wasn't sure if you were a dream or not, but he didn't want to bother corroborating that, he had missed you so much and he would finally be able to see you once again.

The next morning he woke up and almost had a heart attack when he saw you sitting on his couch. Before getting out of bed, he was convinced that it had been a dream.

He is very curious, he wants to know how, why and when you were able to return. He's asking a lot of questions as he holds your hand, he just wants to make sure you're not going anywhere.

I miss you so much, he'll probably be stuck with you for a while, he needs to catch up with your presence again. He's happy.

He likes your new form, it's interesting and very cute, but he still feels a little nostalgic for the person you were before. Technically, the person in front of him is you, and you still have recognizable characteristics, but he still misses seeing your previous version.

He's just in love with you, a lot.

Musashi Miyamoto.

Musashi is strangely distraught lately, something really strange. He felt watched all the time. He could sense something non-human following him everywhere, a dangerously powerful entity that wouldn't leave him alone, but they wouldn't reveal themselves either.

His constant state of wakefulness made him hyperaware of everything around him, he hated the idea of not knowing where the threat was coming from, because it seemed to come from everywhere. All the time.

His desperation reached the point of making him enter a forest in the middle of the night, 3 am, exactly.

He is summoning this mysterious entity to fight him, to come get what they wants and to stop chasing him. His katana drawn and ready to attack whatever moved.

The breeze blows coldly over his skin, Musashi could attribute the shiver that ran through him to the cold of the early morning and not to the figure that materialized in front of his eyes when he decided to blink. It was a figure dressed in a black kimono with gold details, elegant over the zori, offsetting the misaligned obi that camouflaged itself with the anthropomorphic parts that grew from its lower back, two types of fluffy tails that almost looked like a fan from its position.

Miyamoto's hands tightened on the handle of his weapon as the masked creature moved their hand to stop any of his actions, silently asking him not to rush to attack them, he obeyed their request. Mysteriously.

It was not until the entity removed the mask from their face that he was able to observe a more human and comfortable feature for him. His S/O. His posture remained even when his S/O approached, Kitsunes are famous for being mischievous and somewhat malicious, wouldn't this be some kind of joke? That thought faltered in his mind when he saw your smile, it was definitely the same as before.

He's surprised, plus he's overly respectful of you, something about honoring who you are now. He still hesitates a little when you ask him to sit next to you.

He's happy to see you again and doesn't really want an explanation, I mean, he doesn't ask for one. You are a powerful spirit now, plus you make a feeling of respect and admiration grow in him, typical of Japanese folklore and those who know. That's all for him.

He uses very big terms and honorifics on you, it will take him a while to erase the image of mythical respect he has of who you are now.

But you are here, after all, with him. That's more than enough now.

Versión en Español.

Mumon Katsuragi.

Él está inquieto, esa sensación de ser observado persiste aun cuando está en compañía de otros. Al principio pensó que era la forma en que su cerebro procesaba su luto, creyó que sentirse un poco paranoico era algo típico para las personas que guardaban luto.

Pero simplemente no se sentía humana la forma en que era observado, no era observado por una persona normal. Era un sentimiento pesado y abrazador, como de una persona con un poder abrumador.

Es más propenso a usar amuletos para ahuyentar espíritus o fantasmas, él es exactamente esa clase de persona. Se siente un poco más tranquilo, pero no dura demasiado tiempo.

Al principio supuso que estaba soñando, era simplemente lo más inteligente en su situación, en mitad de la noche una criatura se materializó junto a su cama. Su cuerpo estaba bañada de una luz etérea que resplandecía en un dorado luminoso, dándole una apariencia angelical e inhumana que lo cautivo. Sus facciones eran simplemente familiares, pero la bruma soñolienta que inundaba sus sentidos hacía que fuera imposible reconocer aquel rostro.

No fue hasta que sonreíste y te inclinaste para susurrar suaves palabras en su oído que pudo reconocerte, no consideraba que se trataba de tu nueva identidad como elfo, sino que seguías siendo igual de hermoso que cuando te fuiste de su lado.

No estaba seguro de si eras un sueño o no, pero no quiso molestarse en corroborar eso, te había extrañado tanto y por fin podría verte una vez más.

A la mañana siguiente despertó y casi se infarta cuando te vio sentado en su sofá, antes de levantarse de la cama se convenció de que habías sido un sueño.

Es muy curioso, quiere saber como, por qué y cuando pudiste regresar. Está haciendo muchas preguntas mientras toma tu mano, solo quiere asegurarse de que no iras a ningún lado.

Te extraño mucho, probablemente se quede pegado a ti durante un buen rato, necesita ponerse al día con tu presencia otra vez. Está feliz.

Tu nueva forma le gusta, es interesante y muy linda, pero aún se siente un poco nostálgico por la persona que eras antes. Técnicamente, quien está frente a él eres tú y aun conservas características reconocibles, pero aún extraña ver a tu versión anterior.

Él simplemente está enamorado de ti, mucho.

Musashi Miyamoto.

Musashi está extrañamente angustiado, últimamente, algo realmente extraño. Se sentía observado todo el tiempo. Podía sentir algo no humano siguiéndolo a todas partes, una entidad peligrosamente poderosa que no le dejaba solo, pero tampoco se revelaba.

Su estado de vigilia constante lo hizo hiperconsciente de todo su alrededor, odiaba la idea de no saber de donde venía la amenaza, porque parecía venir de todos lados. Todo el tiempo.

Su desesperación llegó hasta el punto de hacerlo adentrarse en un bosque a mitad de la noche, 3 am, exactamente.

Está convocando a esta misteriosa entidad para que pelee contra él, que venga a buscar lo que quiere y que deje de perseguirle. Su catana desenvainada y preparada para atacar a lo que sea que se moviera.

"La brisa sopla fríamente sobre su piel, Musashi podría atribuir el escalofrío que le recorrió al frío de la madrugada y no a la figura que se materializó frente a sus ojos cuando decidió parpadear. Era una figura vestida con un kimono negro con detalles dorados, elegante sobre las zori, contrarrestando el obi desalineado que se camuflajea con las partes antropomórficas que nacían de su espalda baja, dos pareces de colas de esponjosas que casi lucían como un abanico desde su posición.

Las manos de Miyamoto se apretaron sobre el mango de su arma cuando la criatura enmascarada movió su mano para detener cualquiera de sus acciones, pidiéndole silenciosamente que no se apresurara a atacarle, él obedeció su petición. Misteriosamente.

No fue hasta que la entidad retiro la máscara de su rostro que pudo observar un rasgo más humano y más confortable para él. Su difunto S/O. Su postura se mantuvo aun cuando su S/O se acercó, los Kitsunes son famosos por ser traviesos y algo maliciosos, ¿no sería esta alguna broma? Ese pensamiento flaqueó en su mente cuando vio tu sonrisa, definitivamente, era la misma de antes."

Está sorprendido, además de que se muestra demasiado respetuosos contigo, algo sobre honrar lo que eres ahora. Aún duda un poco cuando le pides que se siente a tu lado.

Está feliz de volver a verte y realmente no quiere una explicación, digo, no pregunta por una. Eres un espíritu poderoso ahora, además de que haces que un sentimiento de respeto y admiración crezca en él, propio del folclor japonés y del que sabe. Eso es todo para él.

Usa términos y honoríficos muy grandes contigo, le tomará un tiempo borrar la imagen de respeto mítico que tiene de lo que eres ahora.

Pero estás aquí, a fin de cuentas, con él. Eso es más que suficiente ahora.

#mumon katsuragi #mumon katsuragi baki gaiden yuuenchi #mumon katsuragi x reader #mumon x lector #musashi miyamoto x lector #musashi miyamoto x reader #musashi miyamoto baki #miyamoto musashi #baki the grappler #baki son of ogre #baki dou #baki headcanons

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sailforvalinor · 9 months

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Val! I've been playing KHD and just finished up the manga connected to it, and goodness I have thoughts. Conflicting thoughts, mostly about Roxas. So, it got me wondering what your thoughts are on Roxas, nobodies in general, and KH3. The whole storyline feels messy to me, but that probably makes it all the more compelling to me. Why do I do this to myself? Anyway, as you know I love hearing your thoughts on stuff, so I thought I'd ask. I know you're either have already started school or about to, so no pressure with answering. Take your time. I hope you're adjusting okay to your new surroundings and that you're having a lot of fun too. :)

Waugh that's so exciting! I've read the Chain of Memories novelization, but otherwise I've not actually had the chance to read any of the mangas--I'll have to keep an eye out.

As for thoughts on Nobodies, yeah, I agree the storyline does feel messy at times, yet still so so compelling! I think the guiltiest party for me in that respect is how it's revealed in KH3 that Nobodies are capable of regrowing hearts. Because that seems to contradict everything we know about Nobodies from previous games, but if you actually go back and look at those games, there are actually a lot of hints about this--Axel caring about Roxas and Xion at all, "Roxas, are you sure you don't have a heart?", Saix being capable of feeling betrayed by Axel, Vexen displaying panic and annoyance, Namine's entire character arc, Xigbar/Luxu even being capable of playing his long game at all. Some members are more emotionless than others (Xaldin and Marluxia, I'm looking at you), but why would you even want a heart if you didn't feel any emotions? Desires are driven by emotions--one can't really exist without the other.

The terrifying thing about this is that the Organization members seem to rationalize this away (Axel especially) by saying that they are remembering what it used to be like to feel emotions and trying to project that onto their present moment, an idea so specific and bizarre that I can only think it was perpetuated by Xemnas to keep them from figuring out the truth. But of course it's not true--Namine has no memories, how could she feel loneliness?

As for ideas about Roxas, by the end of 358/2 Days he is so attached to Xion, so so angry, so human, that I almost wonder if he hadn't completely grown his own heart by then. He still had to go back to Sora so he could be recompleted, but that explains why he haunts both Sora and the narrative so much, especially in DDD.

I think the same goes for Xion, but perhaps even more so, when you consider that she was never actually a Nobody--just a replica using Sora's memories of Kairi as a blueprint. I suppose that since we know she was created without a heart, she is essentially a Nobody, but I have to imagine that having Sora's memories pouring into her head all the time gave her a bit of a boost. (Wait, does this mean Replica Riku didn't have a heart either? Somehow I've never thought about that.)

I think Axel was also pretty dang close, he was just in severe denial about it, especially now that we know he was burying his grief and despair over being unable to find Subject X after sacrificing his humanity to find her. Roxas and Xion left him just like she did, and burying those emotions and having that ready and waiting excuse that you're not actually feeling them is a lot less painful than having to confront them.

358/2 Days is such a fascinating tragedy, and watching it bleed its way into DDD and KH3 because it's begging to be resolved is just absolutely beautiful. I'll admit the resolution in KH3 seemed a little quick (perhaps because the BBS storyline was also resolving in a similar fashion), but it was great all the same (especially when Sora confronts Xion, my gosh, the fact that he knows her when no one else does). And Hearts as One playing in the next battle, mixing both Roxas and Xion's theme into a joyful and glorious battle theme, makes me absolutely insane.

I know Nomura wants to move on to other things in the next game, but I really hope he doesn't drop these characters. But on the other hand, maybe he should leave them alone? They need to be happy for once.

(Also I think about the scene where Axel looks at Kairi and sees Xion for a split second daily. It *might* be my favorite scene in the entire game.)

#i have a love/hate relationship with nomura's retcons because you go back and realize it wasn't actually a retcon at all and then you have #to rethink everything about what you thought about the world #anyway thank you for the ask!#oh and thank you I'm adjusting pretty well actually!!

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windydrawallday · 3 months

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One of my other favorite things about shipping fictional characters and making stories with them is telling experiences that go beyond the usual perfect "these two meet and become OTP in the instant" and/or are planned to be OTP at the end of the road. I mean, I'm the crazy shipper that can pair even a bunch of characters that barely mention each other meeting off-camera in canon x'D

But I find fascinating these types of scenarios that are "less perfect" and full of bumps on the road: those of beings that find themselves in need of rebuilding again a bridge of feelings that was severed by death (and even separation, a little "dead" still alive but not with you anymore in their lives).

In contrast to the usual "encounters destined to end together" here experiences are already tainted with grief and a sense of resignation… but at the same time, questioning if it will be possible for these experiences to serve any other purpose after these events. "The Love after the Love" (a spanish song I had on repeat all this week) it's what I like to call it.

And I think it can become one of the most hopeful scenarios to play around with because it is very real and something that could happen even to OTPs "Happy Ever After"'s…

[TW/CW for mentioning a real person's death and grieving]

I need to put in parallel a personal family experience about this same theme: I always remember dearly one of my uncles from my mother's side of the family who had a partner, and they looked SO PERFECT together. Good, sweet, hardworking people. Never saw sadness in their faces, always sharing trips and plans together… I almost fell envious of their sons and daughters for having such perfect parents haha

Until my aunt died during bad electricity management in her laundromat shop. I never saw a man as sad and emotionally destroyed as my uncle. It was plain painful to see him, like a ghost haunting his own home. We tried to support him during that first year of grieving until we saw he was ready to go on his own.

Then, after another year, he confessed to us (I was always happy he confided in my side of the family) that he was seeing a new partner but that he wasn't sure if keep doing it. We asked why to him, and the answer, to this day I think, is one of those that I have carved deeply on my memory: because he felt he was unrespecting his past partner.

This memory feels a bit fuzzy for me right now (this was… idk 12 years ago now?!) but I can remember clearly my mother telling him that he needed to stop feeling guilty for something that was out of his control (the death of his partner) and to think in his own happiness too. That for sure aunt would have approved of him living on because she knew he is a very lovely man full of love who deserves to not let that love die with her memory.

That it will be harder to start over, that's a given. But if he felt the need to build that bridge again but in a different direction, why hold it back?

And that experience became one more brick in my life that cemented for me that love doesn't die… once. Or it can't be killed on that first try. You will build many bridges, burn half of them, seeing part of them fall from catastrophes out of your control. But I can assure you you will always find a way to build a bridge again.

Not just because of a partner, or a new partner, or a partner after that one. Because we all hold a love so great it's unfair to let death be the end of it.

Before death definitely arrives to snatch your heart, keep loving. For the sake of love. Love is worth the effort, the pain, and the lessons.

Because loving is living. And living is a daring thing to do, to spit against death and say "My heart still beats, still exists, still feels".

That's the reason why I like putting these scenarios in fiction to. Again, I'm a sucker for angst too, and seeing a pairing endure death and separation but this? Letting my beloveds find a way out of the past, accepting that they are still living and worthy of finding someone that loves them even when carrying these broken parts, to share their most dear experiences with them? That's my jam, so much!

And if that's not the most hopeful message you can leave to this world, I will buy a hat and eat it.

PS One more additional note: with this, I want to validate too that a "Love after Love" never EVER loses its value after the first time: love just gets STRONGER!

#windy squeals #cw death mention #death mention cw #cw grief #grief cw #please dont let me buy a hat and less eat it #no but seriously: its a little funny so far this become the year of “grieving love” for me #i got a friend thats dealing with a heartbreak another thats dealing with cutting ties with old friends #and here i am playing that same theme of Love after the Love in fiction has a way to lowkey cope too with my own past loss #and is so VALIDATING #THERES MORE LOVE AFTER DEATH AFTER CUTTING TIES AFTER THE PAIN AND THE SEPARATION #im all sappy right now orz #ill make some tea and eat my chocolate cookies i saved for today #another addemdum to the last PS #and my reason to keep shipping characters after shipping other characters #i dont believe love dies with one OTP #my beloveds deserve to find love and be loved again #i think thats a more beautiful ending for them than just plain letting them grieve forever #and that it doesnt need to be a new pairing either to fill that ending #it can be a found family or a friendship/brotherhood of friends #love has no limits so imagination either!

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rrpochi · 3 months

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I was the only child of a loving family, my world painted with the vibrant hues of joy and laughter. My parents, Papa Rolando and Mama Cherille, were the pillars of my universe

In those carefree days of my childhood, my family spent weekends going to the nearby markets, going on picnics, and creating cherished memories. My father, was a gentle soul with a warm smile that could dissolve any worry. He would often lift me onto his shoulders, my laughter echoing through the air as we played games outside.

However, fate has a way of weaving unexpected twists into the fabric of our lives. One fateful day, tragedy struck in our family when my father met with a sudden and untimely demise. The once lively household now echoed with the haunting silence of grief.

My world crumbled. The warmth of my father's embrace was replaced by the cold reality of loss. My mother, now a widow, struggled to navigate the emotional turbulence, trying to hold onto the fragments of normalcy for me. The house that was once filled with laughter became a solemn echo of what it used to be.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself grappling with the void left by my father's absence. The familiar routines became unfamiliar, and the once comforting hugs from my mother carried the weight of shared sorrow. The once vibrant colors in our life now seemed muted, as grief cast a shadow over my innocence.

Then one day, my mother started to change, she became an alcoholic. She then started to beat me when she was drunk. I would cry every night, asking what I did wrong. Why did she change? Doesn't she love me anymore? Where did my loving mother go? I would cry every night, wishing my father was by my side.

Years pass. I was 11 years old at the time when my mother met someone. My mother gives birth to my stepbrother, and my mother became more alcoholic when she met him. She still always beats me when she's drunk, she always makes me babysit my stepbrother, sometimes I would be absent because my mother and her new boyfriend were drinking, leaving my stepbrother alone. I always envy my neighbors because they can play outside without babysitting their siblings.

Then another year passes, my mother gives birth to my second stepbrother, and I have two siblings to babysit now. It's so tiring, isn't it?. I'm just a kid too, why can't I enjoy my life? Why can't I play outside like other kids do? I need my father, why did God take him away from me?

I would always harm myself every night, believing that the pain would go away someday.

Then one day, my mother decided to go abroad to find a job. I was happy that time. "My mother can't hurt me any more!" My inner self said that, but why did I feel sad? My heart and mind are fighting.

"No one will ever hurt you, silly," my mind said.

"But she is still my mother; of course I will miss her," my heart responded.

But I can't do anything if my mother really wants that. "Bahala na si batman," I said to myself.

My mother then let my grandma and her siblings stay in our house before she left. I was so happy at that time because "the more, the happier," they said, but for how long?

Suddenly COVID-19 happened. My mother couldn't provide us food any more because she couldn't work anymore. Who will feed us now? My stepfather can no longer work because of COVID, and my grandma and my uncles have lost their jobs. Then my mother decided to let us go to Leyte because my grandma's sister has a basakan there, but my stepfather and my siblings didn't come with us. I was sad because my siblings couldn't come with us.

The first 3 months in Leyte were nice. I was having a lot of fun feeding our goats, cows, chickens, and buffalos in there, but who would have thought that what I thought was fun turned out to be my nightmare? My mom's brother did something bad to me. I thought I could count on him, but why did he do that? We are family, right? Why did he do that? Even now, I still don't know the answer to those questions. After he did that, I told my mom right away, so she immediately sent me money so I could go here in Cebu. I thought my mother believed me, but when I got home, she scolded me.

"Pataka lang kag istorya about sa akoang igsoon ha! Pwede raman unta nga mo sulti ka nga gi laay naka didto sa leyte bantog ganahan naka mo uli sa cebu, nganong mag buhat buhat paman kag story para lang madaot akong igsoon!" I still remember what mom told me that night. I thought that she would comfort me. I just thought that.

I wish dad was here.

until now, I still carry the trauma I suffered there in Leyte. I can't sleep well either. I just pray for everything. I hope, One day, I will forget what I went through. I hope God will give me strength, and I hope that wherever my father is now, he is happy.

#childhood adulthood 12Branding EmpowermentTechnology

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acoldsovereign · 3 months

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THE COUNCIL OF TWELVE.

THE RUN DOWN:

Maiz rules twelve planets, all conveniently located within the outer stretch of North to West Galaxy. The most important ones to note are the Inner Ring*: Kokytus, Karosea, Gesh, Tun'l, Solemm, and Vaporr. Her kingdom/empire (whatever you wish to call it) is broken down into two sections-- the Inner Ring (which contains the first six planets also called Inner Planets) and the Greater Ring aka the Outer Planets (the other six).

Because of the position, location and neutrality of each of these planets, they're not under the jurisdiction (and thus, the protection) of the Galactic Patrol. The latter is required to stay anywhere from 50 to 100 feet away from all of the aforementioned planets' upper atmospheres.

Some of these planets like Kokytus, Gesh, and Tun'l are undergoing climate crisises because of Maiz. In verses where this storyline is attached to her, she's actually trying to do something about it-- not because she cares about the inhabitants, but because she cares about the aspects of Saiyan Culture she'd have to rebuild from scratch all over again. She'd view it as a waste of resources. It just so happens to have the side-effect of saving some of her subjects. Some and not all, because she's a believer in "the needs of the few vs the nameless many".

Some of these Races are dying out slowly underneath her. The Kokytans, again, as an example. They were not meant for fighting and in some threads, she will be looking for active replacements. They don't reproduce normally and their native diet was interrupted, which means she's been technically starving them. Adaptions were introduced too early/quickly and only a certain strain of them have shown capable of keeping up. If the amount that can adapt is less than what's presently available, they will ultimately die out within the next ten Earth years. Maybe less. Even after everything, these slaves are trying their best to prove their usefulness to her, to not be tossed away like toilet paper.

The creation of this network was and still is-- to first and foremost, preserve Ancient Saiyan Culture. Therefore, anyone criticizing the way she coped with the Saiyan Genocide, or the fact that she survived at all will earn her ire quickly. She didn't choose to survive but she's here and she doesn't care who has to suffer or die for it. She does this out of love, out of grief, out of loss-- she's never truly over it and it's quite easy to tell. Survival is a sore spot for her, because had she had her way, it would've been her who died and Bardock who lived. Or her mother. Maybe both. Either way, this is what she chooses to do, how she chooses to spend the rest of her days; building up a giant memorial spanning several planets for those she lost, for the next generation that will never come..... The most tragic part is she can't stop. She doesn't want to. If she does, she's forced to see the futility of it all. She'd see what a monster she became-- the same one that haunts her nightmares periodically:

SHE'S BECOME FRIEZA.

#Ship Dynamics: You're Lucky to Have Me #Die for Me. Live for Me. Your Life is Mine. (The Council of Twelve)

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andiinaraethtash · 10 months

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Chapter 27: There’s Not a Road I Know That Leads to Anywhere

Notes:

*sing-song voice* Guess who's back!!! Sorry for the wait, I got sidetracked by real life and then got derailed by a million other projects, because I am incapable of focusing on one fandom at a time. Which is weird, because I used to be a very well-focused individual, and now... Well. Now you get four months between chapters. Sorry. TW: none really, this chapter is just angsty (which chapters aren't at this point) and the beginning section shows grief, but otherwise, it's all good! Chapter title is from Sound the Bugle, by Bryan Adams and Hans Zimmer

He knows he’s not supposed to be out and about, but Xornoth can’t help but be curious. He knows now he is indeed in the Grimlands, but he also knows that none of the rulers he’s interacted with rule here. Given the wizard Gem’s fierce vehemence about involving someone, he would lay even money on the mystery involving that someone, even though he has no evidence. A gut feeling, maybe, or a buried memory.

(Hopefully the former.)

(Probably the latter.)

So he maybe, might have, possibly snuck out of his room in the late evening, just to explore and try to get an idea of why he’s here. His room leads directly into a hallway, and he starts checking the rooms on either side of the hall. A study, a bedroom that looks like only the bed has been used in recent years, another bedroom, a lavatory, another bedroom—this one covered in sheets, dust, and cobwebs—and an open door at the other end of the hall.

There’s light coming from said room, and he can hear the soft murmur of voices, and… and he knows he shouldn’t listen in, but he’s desperate to know what’s going on, he needs to know—

He peeks through the gap at the hinges of the door, and nearly gasps when he sees Gem sitting next to a man he vaguely recognizes. In his memory, the man is bloody, beaten, and broken; now he looks like he’s recovering from starvation. He’s been cleaned up, but there’s something vacant about his eyes that haunts Xornoth in a way he should be used to.

They’re the eyes of a man who knows he is dead, even if his body hasn’t quite gotten there yet.

Biting his lip, Xornoth takes a steadying breath an focuses again on the scene in front of him. Gem is holding fWhip in a way that reminds him of how his mother would hold him, whenever he was sick or hurt or scared. His head is on her shoulder, and her chin is resting on his head, and she’s crying softly.

“Please, fWhip, I know you’re still in there, please just… just wake up,” she’s saying, cradling him as close to her as she can. Next to each other, the resemblance between the two of them is uncanny, and Xornoth knows with a certainty that this is her brother.

No wonder she hates his guts. He did that to her brother, to someone she loves, and if that didn’t just make his conviction that he should be locked up or executed stronger, he didn’t know what would. This right here is proof that he is a monster.

“fWhip?” Gem’s voice is trembling. “Please? Just… wake up. I need you to wake up--”

She cuts herself off, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and starts humming. It’s soft, quiet, and slightly off-key, a lullaby if he had to guess, but Xornoth also knows it’s precious, something not to be shared, a way of grieving that he really shouldn’t be intruding upon. So with the softest footsteps he can manage, he pads away.

He hates it, but the song echoes in his mind, chasing away the screams of those he’s killed.

______

The days pass at a snail’s pace. Xornoth continues to make progress; fWhip doesn’t. Gem tries not to take it too hard, she knows what they went through physically and mentally was different, but it still stings.

Within two days, Xornoth is eating solid foods, is walking around the room without needing any assistance, and his wings have moulted away the blackened feathers; within three he’s starting to ask questions. Thankfully, they’re all safe questions, ones they all feel they can answer, so there’s never been an incident, but she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s just Scott, Pearl, Sausage, and her staying in the Grimlands right now. The others have all promised to visit, and so far Katherine and Shrub have kept their word, but the others need time, they need space, they need to process everything that’s happened. Privately, she thinks they’ve had enough time to process, but she keeps that to herself.

Pearl tells her one day when she confesses how she’s feeling, “Yeah, I think you need time to process, too.”

Gem has to stop and think for a moment. Begrudgingly, she has to admit Pearl is right, but she refrains from doing so aloud. Instead, she says, “I’ll process when things go back to normal.”

She gets a disbelieving look in return, and raises her hands defensively, but before she can actually protest, Sausage pokes his head in. “There you are!” He says brightly. “Scott’s looking for you, Gem.”

Gem reluctantly tears her eyes away from Pearl, nods to Sausage, and leaves. Behind her, she hears Pearl start apologising to Sausage for the umpteenth time, and while she knows why, she’s just as tired of having to say it wasn’t her fault as Sausage is. You’d think by know she’d get the picture.

She finds Scott pacing the hall outside the bedrooms. He’s going back and forth between Xornoth’s room, which the other elf still hasn’t left, and fWhip’s room, like he’s trying to decide which one he wants to go into.

“You still haven’t actually seen him, have you?” Gem asks, trying to keep from sounding too exhausted as she gestures to fWhip’s room, and Scott startles before nodding.

“I know he’s alive, and that’s enough to let me sleep at night, but the rest of the time…”

Gem nods, understanding the anxiety of not knowing if he’s improving, of not knowing how bad it really is. “He’ll be okay. I have to believe that.”

Scott huffs out a heavy breath, then turns abruptly to face her. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and when she makes a sound of protest, continues. “If I had secured the crystal better before I left, if I had just gotten a handle on my powers sooner, I could have stopped—”

“Hey,” Gem cuts him off, a little frustrated. She’s tired of people feeling like they have to take the blame for what happened, when really the only person at fault was Xornoth. Well, Exor. Same difference. “We could play the blame game all day, but it won’t lead to anyone getting any better. We need to build each other up, not tear ourselves down.”

Scott hesitates, then sighs and nods. “I think it’s time I take Xornoth home,” he says, and Gem raises an eyebrow.

“You sure he’s ready for that?”

“He thinks he is.”

“But you don’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” Scott protests tiredly, and she gives him a flat look.

“Scott. I’d like to think we’re friends. So I’d also like to think you wouldn’t lie to me, and I’d really like to think you wouldn’t lie to yourself.”

Looking skyward, Scott takes a deep breath, then nods. “Alright, yes, I do think he needs to take more time to recover, but he insists he can do that in Rivendell, where he could very easily be triggered by something.”

“I’m more worried about the people,” Gem counters. “They see you bringing home the elf who killed your parents, and they get worried, scared, panicked—you could easily incite a rebellion or at least a riot if you’re not careful.”

Scott doesn't answer for a moment. “I’m aware,” he says slowly, “So I’m prepared to give him an official pardon, and make a proclamation telling everyone exactly what happened, if that helps. But he deserves a place to call home.”

“I thought the Royal Palace was torn down,” Gem says, tilting her head ever so slightly, and Scott nods.

“It was. He can stay with me.”

Thoroughly unimpressed, Gem makes a face. “You’re forgetting that he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t even know who you are. He might take your invitation the wrong way.”

He probably doesn’t like it, but he does suggest an alternative. “Then he can stay in the village, or maybe in one of the embassies.”

She can’t make him see reason, she realises, and sighs heavily. “Fine. He can stay in the Crystal Cliffs’ embassy. But if anything gets damaged, you’re replacing it.”

Scott smiles slightly. “Alright, Gem. But you know he’s not going to do anything to it. He’s too scared of you.”

Gem blinks, taken aback. He’s scared of her? Why would he be scared of her? She’s just Gem, he’s the monster. He’s the one who tortured and murdered and destroyed; she’s the wizard who’s trying to fix everything he broke.

Scott seems to understand her thoughts, and idly she wonders how he does it. “He’s not the one who did all that, Gem, not anymore. That person died with Exor. Of course he’s scared of you. You hold his life in your hands, and while I don’t think he wants to die, he thinks he deserves it, so really, putting his life in your hands is a risk either way.”

Oh. Oh. She hadn’t thought about it that way. He’s afraid to live but afraid to die. Of course, if she were in his shoes—

The next thought comes out of nowhere. Is that how fWhip feels? He’s done a lot of bad things as Exor’s puppet. If he remembers any of it, he’d know how close he got to hurting them-or how he did hurt them, in some cases.

Maybe she’s being too hard on Xornoth. For Scott’s sake, for fWhip’s sake, she needs to at least give him a chance.

“Okay,” she says quietly, and while she doesn’t elaborate, Scott seems to understand.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, then turns and leaves.

Gem stays there for a long moment, before heading off to fWhip’s room. She needs to see him.

_____

Xornoth is both dreading and excited about his return to Rivendell. When the elf king had sprung it on him, Xornoth’s immediate reaction had been dumbfounded silence. He’d expected more resistance. He’d asked, of course, which is what got the elf king thinking about it, but when the other elf had given a non committal answer, Xornoth had interpreted that as a no.

Apparently not, though. Instead, he’d been informed only an hour later that they would make the return journey tomorrow—or rather, today, as that day passed with lightning speed.

Right now, he’s sitting on the bed, feet planted on the floor, waiting for his escort to show up. He doesn’t know when they’ll be here, they just said to be ready by noon. And he’s ready as he’ll ever be, he’s just also terrified. What if the people revolt at the news that he’s coming? What if they try to kill him?

Okay, he’s not really worried about that, he’s more worried about them losing faith in their current ruler, who could only have been on the throne for three hundred years at the most. If he loses control because of Xornoth, if the kingdom falls into chaos again, it’ll be all his fault. Again.

He has no doubt that they fear him, that they hate him for what he did to his parents, to Scott—maybe even what he did to himself. He’d been told the night he was annointed Crown Prince that he was very much loved, so for him to turn away from them and betray them in such a significant way… For the new ruler to so easily accept him into Rivendell again, he must either be very secure in his reign, or very foolish. Maybe both.

Though, there’s not really anywhere else he can go. Except maybe for the Gilded Helenthia. Pearl seems to like him. So that’s an option.

He’s debating whether or not to just ask the elven king if that would be preferable, but he’s interrupted by the door swinging open. Looking up, he’s surprised to see the elf king himself. He’d expected him to have gone ahead and made the announcement that he was coming, but apparently not.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and Xornoth nods. What else is he supposed to say? ‘No, I forgot my everything?’ He has nothing but the clothes on his back, and he doesn’t even deserve those. So he nods, and he says nothing to protest when he hands him some rockets and directs him out of the room.

They come out of the hallway into a stairwell, then go down and out the door and they’re in a throne room.

Gem is waiting for them, as is Pearl, who beams when she sees him. “I’ll miss seeing you around,” Pearl tells him as he passes by, and he ducks his head, almost ashamed. He doesn’t know why she’s so kind to him, but he doesn’t deserve it.

Gem nods in his direction when he glances her way. “Good luck, Xornoth,” she says, which is the kindest thing she’s said to him, ever. “And to you, too. Take care of yourself,” she adds, looking over at her elven counterpart. “And remember, I might stop by the library soon, so make sure you keep an eye out for that.”

Xornoth isn’t sure what library she’s talking about, but decides against asking. If it’s important, they’ll tell him. Besides, the other elf seems to know what she’s talking about, so it’s not his problem.

With that, they leave, and head south. They fly over a large expanse of grasslands leading up to three tall peaks, which they skirt around. There’s a spruce forest, that bleeds into a dark oak forest, then they turn east and—

There it is. Rivendell. Just as beautiful as he remembers it, but at the same time, it’s different. There’s a statue that hadn’t been there before, one of a deer that can only be Aeor, and a lodge next to it, and…

And the royal palace is gone. Where it once stood is now an empty field. There’s evidence of life there, trampled pathways amid the tough grass, and fire pits, and lanterns hanging from poles, but the palace, Xornoth’s childhood home, is gone. Not even a trace of rubble remains.

He pulls up in shock, and the elf king notices almost immediately, whirling around and beating his wings furiously to remain aloft. “Xornoth?” He asks, an odd note of emotion in his voice, and Xornoth shakes his head slowly.

“What happened to…?” He manages, gesturing toward the empty spot, and the elf turns to look over his shoulder like he’d forgotten that the palace had ever stood there.

The other elf deflates slightly. “Oh. Right.” He clears his throat. “Exor burned it down that night. There were only a few survivors.”

Suddenly dizzy, Xornoth glides down to land at the base of a thick oak tree, then slides down to sit on a large root. Burying his face in his hands, he tries desperately to control himself, because the last thing he wants to do is show just how badly this has shaken him.

Just this one glimpse of his homeland, his kingdom, is apparently enough to make him come undone. He just can’t let the other elf know how far undone he��s become. If he finds out, he might not let him come home until he is emotionally stable.

He’ll never be stable, but he knows he’ll never be murderous, never be a danger. He can never risk becoming a monster again.

“I did that,” he whispers to himself, still barely believing it. So many people, servants, guards, their families, his family, all dead in one terrible night.

A hand on his shoulder makes him flinch, but he doesn’t look up. There’s only one person it could be, and why on earth the elven king is taking it upon himself to comfort him is beyond him. All he can do is act grateful and try not to wish bitterly that it were his mother, or his father. Or Scott. He’d die to have Scott with him again.

“It wasn’t you.”

“It was my hands, my body,” Xornoth tries to explain, “I did it, nevermind that Exor put the idea in my head. Why can’t you see that?”

“And why can’t you see that it wasn’t your idea or your will to do it?” The elf returns, just as insistent. “It’s not your fault. Never your fault, not this. No one blamed you. We… we mourned you.”

Xornoth looks up, peeking between his fingers at the cyan-haired elf. He’s hiding something, he’s almost certain of it; between the nervous twisting of fingers and the avoidance of eye contact, it’s slightly obvious, but Xornoth is also certain that he shouldn’t pry. He’s being given enough, he doesn’t need explanations.

(He needs a prison cell, a jail somewhere they can all forget about him like he’s the bad guy in a fairy tale who always fades into obscurity. He needs long torture to make penance for all his crimes, for all the hurt he inflicted. He needs a quick, sure death, a one-way trip to the deepest parts of hell.)

(He needs his family.)

(He’ll never get them.)

Instead, he scoffs, but heaves himself up to his feet. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you should never mourn the villain. That just comes back to bite you.”

“Thankfully, biting us is one of the things you didn’t do,” the elf jokes, “Though Joey might have been into that. I don’t know, though, that man is strange on a good day.”

He still has only a vague idea who Joey is, but he’s sure he’s someone important. He’ll ask later.

Instead, all he does is huff. “That doesn’t make things better.”

“No,” the elf agrees. “Only you can make it better. You have a second chance, Xornoth. Make the most of it.”

Notes:

I won't lie, Scott's line about Xornoth biting them and Joey being into it came out of nowhere but it gets me every time.

#creative writing #empires smp #fanfiction #how do I tag #writing #angst #fanfic #empiresblr #empires s1

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lilartifex · 8 months

Text

Ink and Fictober 2023 Day 3: "Okay, show me."

Inktober Prompt #3: Path

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Fandom: Good Omens

Character/s: Crowley, Side Characters, Mentioned Aziraphale

Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Crowley is Good with Kids, Walks in the Park, Christmas, Inspired by Music

Summary: Christmas always reminded Crowley of angels (or a very special one, at least). Now it leaves a bitter, vile taste in his mouth and Crowley can't wait for it to end.

Quick Note: There is a piece of music embedded further down the story. It's a Swedish folk song and the English lyrics mentioned here aren't the same as those officially written because they're the ones my choir sang when I was a kid. I strongly encourage you to have it playing in the last few paragraphs if you can. :)

___

Crowley didn’t mind Christmas, usually.

Technically, he should despise it and all it stood for - he was a demon, after all - but ever since the holiday had come about sometime in the third century, he’d found himself quite fond of it. Good food, good wine, plenty of plants and a whole day when Hell was guaranteed not to bother him. Although he could do with less of the carolling and choirs showing up on his doorstep (which he hadn’t actually had to worry about since he’d started living in the Bently, but still).

And it always reminded him of angels. Or one, very particular angel.

But this year, Crowley despised it.

He hated it with his entire being, with every fibre of his demonic entity. Everything that had once made Christmas tolerable now made it insufferable to him; the lights were too cheerful, the gifts too full of love, and the little angels people still placed on top of their Christmas trees leered down at him mockingly. He <em>especially</em> hated the angels.

He found himself hiding away in the Bently, wishing he could just fall asleep and set a timer for January next year. Or maybe several years after that. But every time Crowley tried, his thoughts came back to haunt him. There were memories of other Christmases when he could convince Aziraphale to down bottles of wine ‘because it was the season’ and watch the angel try to drunkenly sing Christmas carols and fail atrociously. Or quieter times when they would simply have tea at the Ritz and stroll along the duck pond, chatting about nothing and everything at the same time.

But those memories were tainted now. Tainted with the grief and knowledge that they won’t happen this year, or indeed, ever again. There won’t be a friendly, angelic face waiting for him in the next year like there had been in recent years. There would be no warm bookshop or dinners at the Ritz. No strolls along the lake or picnics under trees. No nightingales to sing their song in Berkley Square.

There was just Crowley. And a shattered, broken heart.

So, after failing for the third time in a row to quiet his loud thoughts (and possibly setting a nearby Christmas tree on fire by accident), Crowley decided to go for a walk.

He locked the Bently and let his feet carry him wherever they wanted to go, his shoes making soft crunching noises as he trod over a thin layer of frost and snow. There weren’t many people out tonight. It wasn’t quite Christmas yet, but Crowley still passed a few children’s choirs, all bundled up to sing their little hearts out. Crowley blocked them out.

It wasn’t until he found himself standing in front of a familiar pond that he realised where his feet had been taking him. They’d been instinctively walking to one of the few places he hadn’t felt alone, even when he didn’t have Aziraphale beside him.

The duck pond was frozen over now, and most of the ducks were gone. Crowley wasn’t too sure if they were the kind that migrated, and he didn’t really care anymore. Everything felt numb and fuzzy, save for the frigid air that he drew into his lungs, burning with each breath and clouding in front of his eyes with each exhale.

He stood there, alone, for a few minutes. Just breathing. Then, as he turned to leave, something small wrapped around his hand.

Crowley looked down, a little surprised.

“Hi there mister,” said the little girl that had grabbed his hand. “You look sad. Want to come with us?”

Crowley blinked at her slowly, then looked around. A couple were standing a few metres off, clearly waiting for her. For him?

Crowley stared at her. “...Why?” he croaked.

The girl grinned. “We were going to watch the choir and you looked lonely and sad. Nobody should be lonely and sad at Christmas.”

Crowley wanted to point out that yes, people were lonely and sad at Christmas, and yes, he was one of them, and no, he did not want to come, but she started pulling him along anyway, in the direction of whom he guessed were her parents. He was about to tell her that she really shouldn’t be walking up to random strangers and pulling their hands, but she gazed up at him with wide, cheerful eyes. Crowley sighed. He’d always had a soft spot for kids.

“Okay. Show me,” he relented. The girl’s grin widened.

“This way!” she called happily, dragging him along. Her parents gave him apologetic smiles but he just shrugged at them and shoved his hands in his pockets. He’d had nothing better to do anyway.

As they walked down the path, the sound of children singing drifted through the air around them, getting louder as they approached.

“Who can sail without the wind?”

“Without oars who can row?”

Crowley frowned. This didn’t sound like a Christmas carol.

The girl and her parents joined a small crowd that had already gathered around the choir, made up of small children aged between eight and twelve. A black-clad conductor was instructing the children with a baton. The girl waved at another who was standing among the choir’s rows, each sharing a goofy, best-friend smile with eachother. Crowley’s heart clenched painfully.

“Who can leave a friend behind?”

The choir girl made a face and her friend in the audience laughed.

“Without the tears that flow?”

When the choir had finished their song, the girl looked over her shoulder, beaming.

Crowley was gone.

#fictober23 #writing #creative writing #writing challenge #inktober #inktober23 #inktober2023 #fictober #fictober event #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce

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