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tofixtheshadows · 1 day

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You guys really need to stop and consider the ways you're talking about Kabru I am dead fucking serious. Like I know that flattening characters is just what fandom does to a certain extent, but Kabru's actual personality is getting lost to the fandom hivemind insisting that he's aggressive/cruel/sociopathic/hateful, and these are particularly concerning takes to see leveled at the only brown character in the main cast day after day. "My poor sweet golden child Laios needs to be protected from this scary brown man" is not a good look! Like, it's very telling that the bulk of the hate and bad faith readings are reserved for Toshiro and Kabru. Everyone else's flaws get to be discussed and validated and forgiven (or erased), meanwhile people are straight making up things to be mad about with Toshiro and Kabru but patting themselves on the back for being smart.

The worst part is how undeserved it all is. I'm trying to lay off anime-onlys because we're still kind of in the red herring stage of getting to know Kabru, but I would still like to gently suggest that even if you think Kabru is up to something, you don't gave to get in the tags of every fan creator's post and bring up how you hate him or You Can Tell he's totally evil. Sometimes I think Kabru's blue eyes give people license to say things about his appearance that they know would sound completely racist otherwise, but referring to his blue eyes acts as a get-out-of-racism free card. The jokes about the dog with brown contacts are getting old, by the way.

For people who have read the manga, it's disappointing. Kabru is one of the most complex and important characters in the story, and if you base your interpretation of him and all your fandom interactions on shallow first impressions you are completely missing out.

I know part of this is because Dungeon Meshi is a comedy, but the story also wants to be taken seriously. For example, it's admittedly really funny when Chilchuck calls Laios "sick in the head", but that doesn't change the fact that the way Chilchuck casually belittles Laios caused him to hide the fact that he was "hallucinating" from his friends for weeks. Those feelings matter.

Like, this

is funny.

But this?

Is not. This is just a very clear example of a brown boy with PTSD. As someone else with PTSD, just looking at this fucking sucks, man.

The only reason why Kabru thinks about killing Laios is because he is in the middle of a flashback. He's struggling through a panic attack. If he truly wanted to kill Laios because he's violent or because he finds Laios inherently annoying, he wouldn't otherwise talk with Laios normally. Notice how he doesn't act this way at any other point in the story- it's just because he's triggered by monsters. Even when he's thinking about his plans to "deal with" Laios later, he's reluctant to actually kill him and only considers it to prevent another tragedy. Despite his deadly skills, Kabru relies far more on "soft" power- insight, persuasion, diplomacy. He's a rare example of a character who absolutely is, or at least can be, manipulative, but seems to use his abilities for good. He's not a pathological liar, he isn't looking down on everyone behind a smile. He's someone who is extremely emotionally intelligent, and he's willing to put aside all his own basic wants and needs to stop the cycle of dungeons devouring humans.

I'm going to cut a potential thesis on his character short and just give some examples of things that fandom should consider about his personality more:

Racism in fandom isn't just about whitewashing in fan art, or using racial slurs. The insidiousness of bad faith readings, reductions to racist tropes, lack of fan content for characters of color, and dismissal of a character's complexity are far more common. You can believe yourself to be completely neutral or even positive about a character and still churn out low-grade bile about them into fandom's collective unconscious. Fandom reflects real life.

And I have been around fandom long enough to see how these behaviors (mostly from my fellow white fans) affect fans of color, how it makes a fandom feel hostile and unwelcome to them. It's fun to make jokes and memes, I'm absolutely not saying that everything needs to be a deeply nuanced take, but we need to be careful that it doesn't veer into toxicity. Please think about how our contributions to fandom come across, and what sort of vibes they cultivate in this communal space.

#Dungeon Meshi #Kabru #Kabru of Utaya #Dungeon Meshi meta #I'm putting it in the tag. I'm making you look at it.#if you come into my inbox to bitch about this just know that people used to send me b*heading videos in there for similar racist reasons #so I will not be impressed #I'm in a fucking time loop someone get me out!!!!#musings with Dea

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rainylana · 1 day

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“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #requests #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

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wingedtrash · 20 hours

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cooper (from fallout) x reader where he rescues her from something?

Cooper Howard x !F! Reader

Kind of short, might make a smutty part 2 if y’all like it enough, otherwise use your imagination for the ending. Not proofread

Warning: mild violence, injuries, suggestive themes towards the end

The wasteland wasn’t new to you. You were born out here, so that meant you should know what you were doing when it came to surviving. But you still found yourself in bad situations.

“Oh shit-” you were cut off by the radscorpion knocking you to the sand. You hit the ground hard with a thump, the scorpion crawling quickly in your direction. You could hear more coming from other directions. You couldn’t tell how many more.

You were about to be trapped. We’re you really going to die like this. After taking on countless super mutants with their machine guns, and fire ants that could literally shoot fire. A group of scorpions were going to be your downfall.

You crawled backwards until your back hit a rock, blocking your path. You fucked up, you cornered yourself. You broke the one rule of not getting yourself stuck against a wall.

“Well fuck.” You mumbled, gasping for air. The suns rays were pounding down on you. The pain from your fall coursing through your body, you were sure to have a massive bruise down your side.

More scorpions came around the sides of the rock. You only had enough ammo to deal with one. But if you could deal with one and get it out of the way, maybe you could make a run for it. Just maybe…

But before you could put your plan into action you hear gunshots and the scorpion to your left goes limp. It’s dead, and the other 3 scorpions turn their attention to what or who killed it. You took this opportunity to make a run for it.

You hopped over the dead scorpion and ran to a nearby bus to hide behind it. As soon as you were behind the bus and had your breathing under control you realized you were bleeding. Your shirt was covered in blood, something must have cut you when you fell, you didn’t know what and you didn’t want to bother finding out. You dug through your medical supplies and found a stimpak and something to wrap your wound with.

As you were busy fixing yourself up, your savior took care of the rest of the scorpions. And came to find you hiding out behind the bus.

You hadn’t realized until you heard a man clear his throat. You stood up quick, getting your guard back up in case this man saved you for another reason besides out of the goodness of his own heart. He could be fixing to rob you for all you knew or worse.

Hand on your gun you looked up at him. “Uh-” you start, glancing over the man standing before you.

He was dressed like a cowboy, boots, hat, duster jacket. The whole works. His leather cowboy hat covered his face so you couldn’t make out any of his facial features.

“Y’know, ya shouldn’t be out here if you don’t know what you’re doing.” He drawled. His accent thick.

“I know what I-” you started before he cut you off again. “Clearly not.” He chuckled, flicking his hat up to uncover his eyes. He stared you down for a minute, waiting for your next response.

With his face now uncovered, you could tell he was a ghoul. You’d never met a ghoul that wasn’t feral before.

“I didn’t need your help.” You grumbled through gritted teeth. The ghoul was starting to offend you. You had been surviving in the wasteland since you were born.

“Well you got it.” He took a step closer to you. “And just because you didn’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t owe me now.” He was now a foot from you. “Owe you what?” You asked, getting worried.

He chuckled at your now worried tone. “Where’d all that confidence go sweetheart. Oh it’s nothing bad.” He was inches from you now. Your senses were heightening, your heart rate increasing.

Were you attracted to this ghoul? That would be the only explanation for the way you were feeling now.

��I’ll give you two options. How ‘bout that?” He asked, slipping a finger under your chin to force you to look up into his eyes.

“Hmm?” He hummed. “Fine.” You finally responded, gulping down the lump in your throat.

You could feel the tension growing. Where was he going with this?

#cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #fallout fanfic

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y-rhywbeth2 · 1 day

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General attitude of the Dead Three towards their followers that I've observed in the Time of Troubles and sometimes other sources. Bhaal seems to like his followers the most; Myrkul would love you more if you were a zombie; and Bane:

Bhaal: Can be attentive to his followers, apparently. Bhaal loves his clique of murderous fanatics (or at least he loves their murders) and they may "personally warrant [his] attention", multiple times, if he's particularly in awe of their skill at murder. Seems to take it badly when people who aren't him kill his followers - and he's willing to resurrect his favourites if they die while in his favour. But that's hard to gauge if he takes it that badly because that "numbness", fear, then rage response seen in the novels was also in reaction to almost all of his followers getting massacred (although this being pre-3.5e, his power was not dependent on the amount of worshippers he had at this time, so it wasn't as big a deal, more of an inconvenience).

Myrkul: Seems to hate the living more than Bhaal does. He thinks you'd be much cooler if you were undead. Or - memorably - an horrific, mindless, body-stealing soul-eating abomination. Tendency to eat his follower's souls or inflict horrific withering curses on them as a show of "favour". He happily supports the dreams of his undead followers though! Still, he advises his living worshippers to take protective measures and has to look out for them, because otherwise he's rapidly going to have zero followers because he's insanely unlikable. Funny, but unlikable.

Bane: Plays favourites. Bane's interactions in the Time of Troubles were a little skewed, due to having mortal emotions at the time, but the fundamentals stay the same: Most of humanity is beneath his notice, but he does crave the attention of those few he values who may receive leniencies and such. He also refuses to acknowledge that he values them emotionally, and he will still treat them terribly and says there's still a good chance he'll leave them for dead if it's more convenient. Still, even as a god he made the decision to elevate Fzoul to demigodhood when he died instead of just tossing him aside, so some of that remains?

While this is more of an insight into the mortal who predates the God of Tyranny, imo, he has an interesting response to grief, progressing from shock to murdering people around him in a blind rage, to this:

"I will not grieve, the god decided coolly. Blackthorne was merely a human. A pawn. His loss is regrettable, but he can be replaced. Then Bane thought of his endless talks with Blackthorne. He remembered the strange emotions that coursed through him when he had realized that Blackthorne had saved him, and aided in his recovery. The Black Lord looked at his hands and noticed he was trembling. Then the God of Strife screamed a cry of grief, loud and long. All over Bane’s Dark Temple, people covered their ears and shivered at the sound of the Black Lord’s pain."

Then more murder time, so we can stop having disgusting emotions and channel it all into hate on the battlefield:

"A fire crackled in the eyes of the Black Lord and Fzoul stepped back from the angry god. Then Bane’s lips curled back in a frightful grimace. There was fire behind the God of Strife’s pointed teeth, too, as his eyes narrowed and he said, “Now.” "

#babbling #the idiot three #I feel like “the trainwreck three” would've been a better tag in hindsight. ah well.#do I tag this with their chosen? idk

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prythiansfavoritefox · 2 days

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Elain focused on her breathing, trying to steady them. 1, 2, 3. She had had the dream again. The dream that was not a dream, but an unfortunate reality she had to relive every time she fell asleep.

Her father, who had died in front of their very eyes. Her father who had been depressed and disabled for much of his life, but came back to fight for them in the end. Who had been so heartlessly murdered by the King of Hybern.

She took a shaky breath as the tears began to fall down her face. She missed her father so badly, but she could not speak to this with her sisters, who had resented him greatly. And she understood, she really did, but...it would be nice to speak to someone who truly loved him for once.

Alas, there was no one to speak to but a cold grave. Getting up, Elain brushed her hair, sweeping it into an elegant bun. She hesitated, looking at the coat in the closet before deciding she didn't have the strength to fight her need for comfort. She threw on the coat, savoring the lingering scents on it.

Nobody else appeared to be awake. Good. She wished to take this journey alone without being followed or questioned. She wasn't stupid; she knew Nuala and Cerridwen had been set on her to keep track of her movements. Well, there was little she could do to counter that. At least she could befriend them and try to get them on her side so she could gain benefits.

The entire Inner Circle would probably faint with shock if they saw that Elain had taken such a long journey on her own two feet. It's not proper for a lady to walk this far! She's too delicate to walk this much! Pahhh. They always seemed to forget that they would all be dead were it not for her killing the King of Hybern. It wasn't something she much liked to talk about because of her aversion to violence, but some days she wished to scream it so that they'd think she's actually worth something.

Hell, Cassian would be dead too were it not for her. He had lost so much blood due to the shredded wings that he had been inches away from death. Elain had used her healing powers on him, and Cassian, half-delirious with blood loss, had not realized what she'd done. Not even Elain knew how she'd done it, considering when Feyre had been bleeding and dying months later, she had been unable to summon the powers again, no matter what she did.

The only good thing about that was that Nesta had managed to save them and the Inner Circle didn't know about her raw magic, otherwise they would find a way to use her too. No, better they think her a useless silly little thing.

As she walked towards the headstone, to her surprise, she already found somebody there, kneeling beside him. For a wild moment, Elain thought that it might be Nesta. She knew she had somewhat made her peace with him recently, so it wasn't entirely out of the realm. She began to run towards her father's resting spot, crying out, "Nesta!" The person beside the grave turned around. Elain's words died in her throat.

"You're-you're not Nesta." Way to be fucking obvious, Elain. But she could hardly think with him near her. When she wasn't dreaming of her father's death and stabbing the King of Hybern, she was dreaming of him.

Well, shit. She was wearing the cloak Lucien had given her that day by the Cauldron. How embarrassing. Her face went beet red as Lucien's eyes focused on her, taking note of her bare legs and the cloak around her shoulders. Her body began to pulse everywhere from her chest to between her legs, and she knew Lucien could hear it. She clenched her hands in her dress, resisting the urge to grab him at that very moment and kiss him senseless. That would be highly inappropriate; they were at her father's grave, for god's sake.

"Elain," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear it, leaping to his feet and bowing to her. "Apologies, lady. I shall leave you to grieve in peace."

Elain grabbed his wrist as he was about to leave. How could she have forgotten? He'd known her father. He'd gone to the continent and brought him back based on her vision. "Please," she breathed. "Stay."

Lucien looked at her hand then back into her eyes. "Ok," he said slowly. He lowered himself down to the grave again, Elain going with him. They sat there in comfortable silence for some time before Elain whispered, "You knew him. My father."

"Yes, I knew Tristan. He was a good man, at least in the time I knew him," he replied. "Feyre never seemed too fond of him, though."

Elain sighed. "Feyre and Nesta never forgave him for leaving us to fend for ourselves during poverty."

"Well, I can't blame them." Elain opened her mouth to protest, but he went on. "But he'd lost his wife and could hardly walk. I don't blame him for hurting either. He tried his best, in the end, to do right by you girls."

Elain nodded. "Poor Papa. Feyre and Nesta were always snapping at him for making his little wood carvings instead of finding a way out of poverty. Perhaps if they'd been a little gentler with him, he might have..." a sigh. "Anyway, he's gone now."

Lucien squeezed her hand. "No one dies as long as their reputation lasts." Elain snorted lightly. "Are you some sort of philosopher or something?" Lucien raised his brows teasingly. "Maybe I am."

Elain couldn't resist smiling back. "What was he like? Papa. With you."

Lucien smiled reminiscently. "He was a very single-minded person. He might have only been human, yet he could command a room with his voice. Very charming, very forthright. And he couldn't shut up about you girls." He laughed. "I remember when I finally told him that we're mates, he grilled me for hours. About my birth, my occupations, my habits. Internally I was terrified of disappointing him, but at the end he just handed me a drink and said, 'You don't look quite like the man I imagined my Elain will marry, but you certainly act like the man I want her to marry.' Then he told me stories about all your childhoods for the rest of the night."

Elain beamed. That sounded a lot more like her father before their family had been lost to poverty. It made her happy that her father was able to be more like himself with someone before he'd left. "Thank you for telling me this," she murmured. "It's nice to talk to someone who knew him as I did."

Lucien inclined his head. "Happy to be of service, my lady."

Elain leaned her head against his shoulder and did not move for a long time.

Inspired by the post I saw a while ago saying Lucien visits Papa Archeron's grave!

#lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien

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rainysofsunshineao3 · 3 days

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"You don't talk much," Robin notes, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of those...Things. The sun illuminates most of the dilapidated highway and barren, wilted fields on either side. It would be easy for either of the two to spot one, but then again, that was a double-edged sword, and with how fast those things could move... It was a good chance that if the creatures spotted the trailer-towing van they would tear it to shreds faster than they could escape. Nancy humms in false thought, momentarily bringing Robin's eyes away from the scenery around them.

"Not a fan."

"What, of talking?" Nancy glances away from the road, a look mixed half of genuine questioning and annoyance.

"Not a fan of talking, no." She responds finally, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel, and Robin couldn't help the flutter of relief and something else entirely in her chest when the frizzy-haired brunette finally drew away her gaze.

"You know," Robin wasn't sure where she was going with this. Nancy seems more annoyed than usual, and it wasn't like they hadn't had this conversation before. "You do talk to me. Eventually." She was rewarded with the small chuckle it drew from the woman driving, albeit dry.

"Do I?"

"Oh yeah," Robin smirks. "It's usually around Lyons." She looks down in thought, fiddles with the immense amount of rings on her fingers. "You tell me about the time you went there with your family."

Nancy looks back at her, drawing the taller woman's gaze back up to her crystal eyes.

"Your brother got lost," She continues and Nancy looks away again, biting her lower lip lightly.

"I've never been to Lyons." Oh, the multiple times you've said so would suggest otherwise.

"You tell me your middle name; Danielle." She says it almost like a question, knowing full well that that piece of information had never been disclosed to her. Nancy's answer is harsher than before, quicker, almost like she knows the game Robin's playing.

"That's not my middle name." It's so quiet, almost a whisper, but the murmur carries through the entire van with ease. Robin almost leaves it at that, but something about Nancy's expression makes it impossible to keep her damn mouth shut.

"You find your brother in the arcade, by the way. 'Mike', you said. "

"Maybe I said it all just to keep you quiet."

"But," Robin sighs, "You do talk to me."

"Buckley, I do not need to get to know you." She huffs. "Saving the world doesn't necessarily require deep, personal connection, and," Her eyes darken, brows furrowing in a way that has Robin leaning closer, studying the guise as if it was the last thing she would see on Earth. "And if you knew what was good for you, you wouldn't want to get to know me. It's the only way you get through this...whatever this is."

And because Robin just can't seem to let something go, she whispers again, not meeting Nancy's gaze.

"What about Holland? You get to know him?"

The van screeches to a halt and Nancy whirles around on the soldier.

"How..." Even through the anger, Robin can see the tears filling Nancy's eyes. "How do you know that name?"

She swallows, genuinely wondering if this conversation would lead to another reset.

"You mentioned him."

"That's not possible."

"Then how do I know his name?"

"When..." Nancy pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. "When did I mention her? Under what circumstance-"

"Her?"

"When, Buckley?" But Robin's brain was still on a continuous loop.

Her. Her. Her.

"Is she the reason you won't talk to me?" She whispers finally, and maybe it was the sincerity in her voice that had Nancy sighing, turning her pricing blue eyes away and back to the road.

"Don't ever mention her name again." Her tone was harsh, but Robin didn't miss the single tear that fell after the shorter woman blinked.

"Why," Her voice cracked. "Are you..." She trails off, because she had originally been going to ask "Are you in love with him?" But...

Her. Her. Her.

"She's dead." Is what she settles on. It's not a soft answer, not a kind one, but she says it without a hint of bitterness.

Nancy only nods.

"I watched her die 300 times over and I remember every single detail." The "I couldn't save her" remains unspoken, but Robin understands.

"I'm sorry," She offers, and Nancy meets her delicate gaze. "You don't, you don't have to talk about it."

"It's fine." The answer is short, clipped. It's said in a way that means finality, but it's Nancy who continues after.

"It's just war."

-Or-

THE EDGE OF TOMORROW - RONANCE AU

Ya'll, should I continue this? I had this thought at 3am and couldn't stop thinking about it.

#robin buckley #robin x nancy #nancy wheeler #The Edge Of Tomorrow (2014)#Jason Carver would definitely be Sergeant Farrell fs #Edge of Tomorrow #edge of tomorrow ronance au #stranger things #ao3 writer #steve is in there #somewhere #ronance #< target audience

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