#further further to all this: when he dies his existence is wiped from history by jujutsu society elders which is why

[qismet]

THE ABOMINATION ⁽ ⋆ ⁾ HŌRŌSHA KISEN ⁽ 放浪者 輝千 ⁾. FOREBEAR OF THE CURSE MANIPULATION TECHNIQUE DURING THE HEIAN PERIOD, DIRECT ANCESTOR OF GETŌ SUGURU. THE VAGRANT. CUTTHROAT, CURSE EATER, MASTER OF PUPPETS.

HŌRŌSHA ⁽ 放浪者 ⁾ WANDERER. KISEN ⁽ 輝 ⁾ SHINING, GLITTERING ⁽ 千 ⁾ THOUSAND.

holder of the curse manipulation technique during the heian period, direct ancestor of getō suguru. he/him. erased from jujutsu society’s history after his death.

ABOMINATION ⁽ ¹ ⁾ SOMETHING REGARDED WITH DIGUST OR LOATHING. SOMETHING ABOMINABLE.

originally born waseda kisen ⁽ 早稲田 輝千 ⁾, he is the only child of waseda sunao ⁽ 直生 ⁾ father, and chiemi ⁽ 千咲 ⁾ mother. chiemi passed moments after kisen's birth, leaving him in the care of his father. both were subsistence farmers (namely rice) and jujutsu sorcerers, and this continued in kisen's early life.

sunao held an obvious amount of resentment towards kisen in his grief within losing his wife to account for his existence. that being said, he doted on his son and made sure to teach him both values on jujutsu sorcery and swordsmanship. for the most part, kisen lived a moderately pleasant childhood, until age eight, when his technique awakened.

kisen shares the same cursed technique as his later descendant, getō suguru, curse manipulation through consumption of an exorcised cursed spirit.

the heian period in japan is notable in jujutsu society as having bred some of the most powerful curses and sorcerers of any age. in the modern day, uraume tells hakari that all should consider themselves lucky they weren't born one thousand years ago. it could be said, sorcerer's that existed within the heian period held more power in their little fingers than some modern day sorcerers do in their entire bodies.

as such, in this period it is entirely frowned upon and found near sacrilegious that kisen can not only consume curses, but can puppeteer them and weaponise them for his own gain. the fact that kisen exists alongside them, that they exist within him is something people find disgusting. because of this, once the technique has awakened, sorcerers and windows alike begin to turn their backs on a child that does not fully understand his own capabilities.

within their village, rumours spread. rumours that kisen must be half-curse and half-human, or perhaps a curse entirely, or that his mother lay with a curse, and bringing such a monster into the world inevitably cost her life as repentance. that he is a vengeful curse that intended to kill her. that he made a pact with a curse in order to gain such power. none of which are true, but that all hang a dark cloud over his head.

at age thirteen, one summer's night, sunao intends to kill his son, thinking that he will be sparing kisen a life of turned backs, harsh whispers, a life on the precarious edge of society, a life of being hunted for what he is. he gets as far as covering kisen's mouth and raising his blade, but he cannot go through with it and instead slashes his own throat, unable to live with himself for what he has tried to do.

out of his father's corpse rose a great and vengeful curse born from grief and resentment, both towards kisen and others who sought to make their lives a misery on account of kisen's technique. the mindless curse that it was, it would likely have killed kisen if not for the intervention of another sorcerer, ryū eijiro, who subdued sunao's curse. kisen asked for him not to exorcise it and instead completed the task himself, though still quite inexperienced. his father's curse was the fifteenth he consumed, and it remains one of his largest and most formidable.

eijiro was unable to ignore that kisen had ended up alone in the world, and found that he couldn't turn his back on him. he took kisen in and further trained him in the ways sunao should have done. he teaches him that should he want acceptance from the rest of their society, he would have to make himself smaller, present his manipulated curses as mere shikigami as opposed to what they truly are. despite this, he still bestows all wisdoms onto kisen and makes him strong, helps him to better his cursed technique and in kisen's younger years even helps him subdue curses to consume.

for a long time, kisen believes this is the only way in which he can exist peacefully within their society and he does so without much complaining, presents himself as a shikigami user, tries to slot himself into their society peacefully, wanting to be accepted. until eijiro is murdered when kisen is twenty. having already been outlawed, eijiro had been allowed to live on the assumption that he would try no further to harm jujutsu society. in training kisen, in making him stronger and in giving him the necessary tools and skills needed to cultivate his technique, this was seen as a direct attack. eijiro's death does not go unpunished, as kisen follows the assailants across four cities to enact his revenge, in the process shining a light on himself as he murders a lower-ranking noble sorcerer whose order it was to have eijiro killed.

it's here that he gives himself the surname hōrōsha, meaning wanderer. truly shedding the last of his ties to his old life, he intends to become someone new, and embraces the nature of society they present him with.

as an incredibly powerful sorcerer with an arsenal of highly overpowered curses, kisen is nearly untouchable. a skilled swordsman, light on his feet and highly intelligent and agile, he is a formidable opponent, as many later come to find out. jujutsu society still want him dead, still seek to erase his existence from their history and so he survives many attempts on his life. after enacting his revenge for eijiro's death, kisen turns his back on jujutsu society's lack of acceptance of him and instead turns to making a living doing what he does best, consuming curses and as a newly found skill, hunting.

as an outsider to jujutsu society, kisen uses bounty hunting as a way to get an inside look to how it all works and uses curse hunting to further expand his collection of manipulated curses. he takes jobs from those of high and low status (as long as he gets paid, he'll do almost anything) and it gives him a great insight of who he must look for to climb like a ladder until he gets to who he really wants to face, the ones who decided his life was forfeit, the ones who won't accept him, the ones that fear him.

much like getō suguru, kisen struggles with the taste of curses, thinks of it akin to eating a rotten corpse, he feels like a vulture feeding on the dead, despite the fact that curses were never truly alive. similar to getō's later character arc, kisen does find companionship in other sorcerers and is good-natured, he simply has been hardened by society and will not allow himself to be slighted, will raise his blade against the neck of any person who seeks to challenge him.

for kisen, his mind is never quiet, the curses never leave him as they exist within him, their mindless chatter gnaws at any silence he might be granted.

[peridot-tears]

I'm actually FASCINATED by the role of New York gangs in AC: Rogue. To me, a born-and-raised NYer, gangs are a recent development going back to the 1850s because frankly, that's as far as our oral histories usually trace; that's the earliest major wave of immigration. Most old New York families don't go further back.

The gangs weren't completely wiped out until the 90s, and by "wiped out," I mean they still exist, but the end result of government crackdown was that they no longer operate in the open the way they used to, and their methods of operation have changed. In the 1950s-80s, they extorted money via racketeering (what you see in movies when a gang member comes to a business and offers "protection" in exchange for money; reject it, and the member and his goons destroy your business or threaten your life) and had shootouts on the streets. Nowadays, it's more likely to be money laundering.

Needless to say, we can say with full confidence and a sense of black-and-white morality, that gangs are Bad, because of how much violence they encourage within the community.

BUT, there are certain things that aren't as black-and-white, because gangs usually exist to fill the needs of a society that the "legal" methods cannot meet. You feel powerless? You band together and intimidate other people, even if it becomes violent. Isn't that how Jacob formed the Rooks?

I want to sidebar about a great example of gangs filling unmet needs in what are shitty, harmful methods that would not be met at all otherwise: Human trafficking.

I'm not defending human trafficking by any means, but I would like to examine the conditions under which people are trafficked, their role in NYC, and the deeper implications in AC Rogue.

We know that smugglers are exploitative. The smugglers who lead North Koreans across the border into China and Mexicans into the United States demand huge sums of money from migrants (let's use "migrants" in this case since we're covering a lot of different groups who leave their homes for different reasons). These migrants pay this exorbitant amount to take a journey that they might not even live to see the end of.

However, we can understand that people who decide to take such a journey usually feel that this chance for a different life is better than staying in their current conditions. And that they are so desperate or at the end of their rope that this may be the best and only option. There is no other way to guarantee leaving for a better place.

The most glaring example of this in my mind is Sister Ping, who smuggled people into New York from her native province in China for years. She ran one of the biggest operations in the city; people died under her charge after paying basically what would have been a year's salary in the US. And yet, when Sister Ping passed, people flooded the streets of Chinatown to pay their respects. Because she granted them passage to the United States.

So yes. These things are bad, but people do end up using gang "services" because they could not acquire what they need otherwise.

But enough about Old New York. What about Old, Old New York? Like 1750s New York?

AC Rogue is not about the nuances of gang culture, so Hope Jensen's operations in New York outside of smuggling and experimenting on poison are pretty nebulous. Shay is supposed to be the complicated "hero" -- I would generously say anti-hero -- of Rogue who seeks to right the wrongs committed by Assassins. So he's presented as being in the right for crippling her supposed (we never get an actual confirmation, and Shay at this point only expects the worst out of the Assassins after their fuck-ups) plan to release poison gas on New York.

Poison gas aside, because of Shay's perspective, we are introduced to the gangs as criminals who extorted the Finnegans, but I wonder what other operations they ran? Were they also smuggling people into the city? Was Hope extorting businesses? Did she put money back into the city in other ways, ways we didn't see because we're looking at it through Shay's perspective? What were the needs that Old Old New York society that the gangs needed to fill?

We're arguably the hero for putting down criminals because of Shay and Monro, but I wonder if the formation of the Rooks in Syndicate would have looked very different if I were playing as a bystander or Assassin defector.

And morality debate aside, I'm very, very excited to look deeper into the Old Old New York gangs. They're like. The Grandfather of the Grandfather of the Godfather of the Modern NYC.

[mariamariquinha]

Carrillo's death doesn't have to do with him: but he did some terrible shit

Narcos has always gone beyond the historical series line and on many occasions ended up resorting to artistic metaphor (or something like that) to present the context of the world when Escobar rose in drug trafficking. Carrillo's very existence, in fact, was a poetic license from the creators to develop an antagonist to Escobar and I think it was very right.

My point: the creators created a character who was too strong for what they wanted him to be in the story.

He goes to Madrid, then returns even more furious. In his veins, all that is happening is nationalism and the desire to get his country back, away from the hands of drug traffickers. He is blind with rage, capable of going to extreme lengths to achieve his goal...

But it is nothing more than a narrative element. For the story itself? Also. To Peña? For sure.

The story alone reinforces that the protagonists are Steve and Javier, but Carrillo has a narrative power that could be further explored. I always talk about this, but anyone who lives in Latin America and remembers history classes, the men who were like Carrillo and who were the iron fists in the dictatorships that our countries faced, knows that they were ruthless, but in following orders. They were shaped to commit ATROCITIES (in the name of you know what) and, in my opinion, they could portray more of this context of police forces as the other side of the same coin that the drug traffickers were on.

When he went to Madrid, I think there was still a narrative like that prepared for him. I think the problem was when he came back. They created a (very valid) connection between him and Peña so that when he died, they created something for Peña to lose... and that was it.

I'm not saying that Carrillo was right or that his actions were "exaggerated." They weren't. Things were exactly like that. Guys like him were just like that.

What I mean is that he didn't die solely and exclusively because of his actions, which was pathetic. If you really want to show that it was necessary to go to extreme lengths, that Carrillo chose the wrong path, death wouldn't be the worst thing (because he was willing to do it). The worst thing that could happen to him would be to have to watch gringos take credit for all his work (which is what actually happened in real life).

Would I kill him if he existed in real life? Yes. But the logic of cause and consequence in the series was, once again, to wipe the slate clean with the USA, to "redeem" even partially Peña for the shit he did and give a redemption arc to other people.

In other words: they offered a lot and failed to deliver enough.

Well, that's Netflix. That's USA.

Good thing we have fics to fix that! 🫶

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Outsider pt 1 (6/19)

Outsider Series

Chapter 6 Unbroken Fragments

The City of the Dead was a place of worship for Wakanda. An ancient temple erected to home their ancestors. A longed for heavenly connection that offered those left behind only acceptance instead of ascension. A vast complex of catacombs stretched along the land surrounding a tower dedicated to Kings of the past. It housed their family in hopes that they find peace within a town of their own.

The bodies of Tiakan and Drea now laid here.

Killmonger made it his mission to destroy any resemblance to unity that would seize the compliance he inflicted upon the people. He would have killed Ramonda. He would have slaughtered Shuri. The scholar of war, fire and death worked in his favor and he never hesitated to take it a step further. Though he wanted freedom, his cool calculated demeanor longed for the inevitable bloody battled for independence. Barren eyed vengeance passed for benevolence. The poverty in his soul only exacerbated the waking nightmare that was his existence. Tattered skin that bared marks of death made the best of them cower under his rule.

But not Tiakan, who died protecting Drea.  

King T’Challa allowed their remains to be buried within the halls of the Kings as they served their people at great cost. The irony of resisting an outsider, by once declared outsiders was not lost on Awenha.

She could smell the heavy fragrance of burned heart-shaped herb float up from the bowels of the tower. She sat planted on the ground facing the marker of their graves. Unshed tears collected and then fell down her cheeks. The flame flickered up from shiny new torches and danced in the dark. Through the shadows that twisted she saw a figure approach. In one motion Awenha wiped the tears from her face and welcomed the visitor.

“They will not be forgotten.” King T’Challa’s controlled and unruffled political tone was absent as he spoke. He moved toward her from the darkness of the crypt. She noticed his ceremonial robes fit for a funeral, though he seemed to drop most of his public persona as he casually waved. Awenha lowered and raised her head slightly, her eyes dropping to the ground until finally settling back upon their graves.

T’Challa sat near resting his arms upon the top of his knees. She felt the burden of his gaze and turned to him with watery eyes.

“You were always their focus, Awenha. Parents have a very humorous way of expressing their pride in their children. Some choose to hold on to secrets. Others give their children free reign to discover the world as it is.”

Awenha remained silent. His normally stoic expression cracked into sadness. The mask of duty slipping in front of her a memory surfaced of a boy who hung on his father’s every word. How he must have felt at the discovery, she wondered. To see the fruition of such an unspeakable mistake by the person you cherished.

“I will not order you to continue your father’s work. But I will hope instead, that the tradition can only be accepted if you truly want it.”

In the past she was always thinking of a way out. Five years away from Wakanda, felt like freedom. The ability to casually wander the world was treasured. But the world had bit back. She returned home to Drea, who loved Wakanda, and so now she loved it. Even when the tribe elders glared, or heard the hushed whispers as they passed. It all seemed trivial now. She could take it.

“T’Challa, the agreement between Titanis and the Golden Tribe will remain intact.”

She turned back in reverence at the graves, a small contemplative smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

“I wonder how many people have open agreements with Eternals.”

“With one Eternal.” Awenha corrected. “I’m third generation, cousin. I hardly count as an immortal being, T’Challa. See where my father rests? He’s not coming back. ”

A part of her wished it was not true. But she had never heard stories, family histories, or anything really other than the possibilities of power spoken between the three of them. She was cut off from ever knowing the truth of the past, the command that comes with wisdom eluded any semblance of an answer.  

The King shifted his weight and crossed his legs in front of him. “I have you been contacted by N’Juri?”

Awenha shook her head and grim expression crossed her face as she became lost in thought. N’Juri, her beloved grandmother had been silent for more than twenty years. In her mind, she could not rectify a mother’s absence to the fate of her son. She felt the well of anger in her belly spike. They had been alone since N’Juri left. Scattering only vague directions to continue to explore, grow in their power, and resist leadership roles. What power? Awenha scoffed to herself. For nearly her entire life she believed that N’Juri’s wisdom was the embodiment of maternal love. But as she sat at the plots of Earth, the feeling the contempt eroded any admiration she held. The woman never conveyed anything that Awenha would consider of importance. What good is Eternal genes if you still end up dead? She thought as reality ebbed at the illusion.

 “N’Juri is with Titanis now.” She managed to say between pursed lips.

“We are still your family, Awenha.” He spoke proudly as he rubbed her shoulder gently.

And it was the truth; she knew it was true even in the face of these events. The Golden Tribe had always accepted their small family no matter how far removed from the last King they descended. Their alien qualities were scorned by many who were outraged. And because of their presence others who sought refuge in Wakanda were never offered sanctuary. The method was weak. The approach though reasonable to Wakandans only returned full circle and her family paid the price. At least, she thought woefully, her pain was shared this time for many Wakandans had suffered as well.

“So.” He interrupted her thoughts as he spoke and dropped his hand from her shoulder.

Awenha turned to him, hollow eyes watching him intently. T’Challa’s face was turned at the graves of her parents but his dark eyes slide to meet her gaze.

“What are we to do with Sergeant Barnes?” 

“Did Shuri tell you?” Awenha asked patiently.

“She told me what I needed to know. That is another reason why I am here with you now. I am sorry I have not come to you sooner.”

“I have sat with this long enough.” Her words breathed out in relief. “His actions were not his own. I have accepted it. Absolution may not be for everyone but it is enough for me.”

One weight lifted from her spirit while another sat waiting for another day. The sentiment of anger connected with mentioning the soldier had dissipated. She was finally glad that the hysterical sorrow that had lived in her had departed. Though now replaced with grief, she was at least content that her dreams could be free of him, hopefully.  

“Fulfill your promise to Rogers.” She spoke.  “Sergeant Barnes deserves to live life.”

The Merchant Tribe lands of Wakanda were renowned. Pious vast mountains reached for the sky in the distance, a fathomless deep lake pooled in fertile plains lay surrounded by tall forests. Sergeant Barnes awoke within a thatched roof hut made of mud. The faces of young children with yellow and white paint around their eyes poked at his chest. Whispering to each other back and forth and giggling above him Sergeant Barnes opened his eyes. The children jumped in fright and giggles as they ran out of the hut.

He sat up feeling fully recovered from his mat and looked around his room. Nothing much had changed from the previous day; the same group of kids would follow him around when he left for food. Sometimes he would stand by the river and finally for the first time in years simply could think without the torment of not remembering.

His memories flowed to his consciousness as he thought on them. The fact that he could remember his mother’s face brought joy back to his life even in the moments of his the darkest recollections.

Sergeant Barnes’ got to his feet as he felt the dirt of the land underneath him and adjusted the front of his garment. The light of the morning sun in Wakanda was a real beauty. Anywhere he found himself was met with warmth and fresh air. He looked around the four other huts near him. The children gathered around a slender woman in a white jacket. They giggled harder as he approached then with one last look from the children they ran back to their homes.

“Good morning Sergeant Barnes’.” Shuri said with a warm smile.

She had been in his mind, helped him to erase what HYDRA had put in his head. Formality was for the rigid, and he felt anything other than stuck in tradition.

“Bucky.”

Understanding the dropping of regulated names she nodded thoughtfully.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Good.”A near undetectable smile shifted his expression but hung in shiny eyes as he stared at her. “Thank you.” His tone was softer than before but heavy with appreciation.

Her eyes brightened at his response a big toothless grin appeared and a mellow chuckled escaped her lips.

“Come.” she patted him on the chest playfully as she walked away. “There is much more for you to learn.”

Shuri pushed the release button on the pad she held, the snake motion of the wires attached to Bucky’s stub slid back into the diagnostic portal.

“What’d you think doc?” He asked with a playful light smile across pink lips.

“It’s working perfectly, of course. I just wanted to make sure your nervous system was accepting the interface panel.”

Shuri pushed long thin braids over her shoulder as she sat the pad down and sat astutely in the stool before the station. Bucky watched her movements amazed with her quick stroking of the screen. Her eyes analyzed the report as she pushed and slid to the next screen.

While she preened over the read out that popped up red on the screen Bucky eyes went to the floor. He wondered what the day held of course, but more so if there was a chance of seeing the woman from his dream.

He definitely remembered the curly mass of hair around an oval face and those tender brown eyes. But disappointment stayed with him when he realized the sound of her voice was fading.

“So.” Shuri said suddenly bring Bucky out of his reverie he looked back at her.

Shuri swung around on the stool her arms crossed with a single booted foot pushing her body left to right as she watched him. Bucky’s hair hung long around his face, icy blue eyes considered her as his thumb rubbed the first and third finger.

“What about your memories? Do you remember your life before what this organization did to you?”

Bucky’s eyes fell to the right his brows pinched in thought. He pushed by the thoughts of the woman in his dream to a time before his draft. Steve was standing at his door step rain drenched rat looking fellow with an amused look on his face. He had made ten bucks on a bet that Gordie Stewart couldn’t ride the trunk of a taxi longer than ten minutes. The dumb-ass busted his face on the pavement after two.

A smile formed on his face at the memory before looking back at Shuri.

“I do.”

Shuri returned his smile in kind.

“But I have this memory from the last time I was activated.” Bucky started but hesitated when he considered the young scientist’s age. “I attacked a woman in Berlin. I think I saw her here, when I was sleeping. I think.”

Shuri sat forward listening to the man her brows arching in shock as he continued.

“Is that possible…” Bucky shook his head with weathering grin to his sanity as he reconsidered what he was saying. Maybe it was just a figment or perhaps a shadow of what was left of his innocence.

“You see this woman in your dreams currently?”

Shuri stood with her bright eyes trained on Bucky’s confused expression. With a lost gaze he looked to her once before lowering them his fingers.

“I saw her last night.” A slight scoff escaped his lips. “But the memory or whatever it is, it’s becoming less clear.”

Even now as he pulled up the color of her skin it seemed less alive than the last. Bucky struggled to hold on to the last frame of her smile as even in this very moment the surrounding she stood in disappeared.

“She is real.”

Bucky perked up his eyes his expression brightening with hope. Shuri chuckled as she pulled the stool closer to the bed and sat back down.

“She lives here. But-But-!” She waved her hands as he started to speak. “She needs time and space. Otherwise she would have been one of the first faces you saw when you awoke.”

His face fell as hope drained from him before Shuri’s imploring eyes.

“Focus on your healing Bucky. She is doing the same. In time I think you will see her again, and not just in your dreams.”

He focused on the drop of water on the floor instead of the sensation. The mission was to inflict damage physically and mentally through means determined by programming. In a damaged society women find loss of security to be the most paramount risk. Taking it away would be enough to warn off any other attempts at her subterfuge.

He could smell her hot skin as his blank eyes moved to watch her. The water from her face flung as she shook her head. She cried out when he forced it the sound threatened to halt his advances within so he shut her mouth.

Bucky floated somewhere in between here and then as he looked out his own eyes helpless to stop it. His body felt the rush of gratification, his body wanted the release, and it was his body that wanted it to last longer. A thick film of lust covered and mixed with his waking mind. He didn't want it to end.

Bucky screamed but nothing was heard as he stood above her. Another scared woman he had successfully threatened. Though the method was new the effect worked.

The ringing, the god damned ringing, high pitched and deafeningly resounding shot through his brain. He was in the lock box room again the strike team watched Pierce watch him. Then another place green with trees busted into focus it was Steve laying on the ground covered in bruises. Passed the man lying unconscious the sound of water dripping from his hair hit his arm.

Then he was back, staring at the drop of water on the concrete floor. It wasn’t just water he thought with horror, it was tears.

Bucky shot up from his bed, sweat casting a slick sheen across his naked chest as he heaved in large batches of air. He slumped back down as a wail of sorrow moaned through the hut, tears poured from him as he lay wracked with emotion. The smell and feeling of her skin lingered on his senses, the ache of release stayed with him even as he willed it away. The taught muscles of his back flexed and receded with each eruption of new tears.

He hurt her. The woman from his dream and the woman from the JCT were one in the same. Guilt turned to pain as he tried to catch his breath. His hut made of mud was cool though warm air breezed through the cloth door. He made his attention focus on the smell of the grass and nearby lake. His breathing slowed, tears sporadically traced down his face into a ruffled beard. With a rough hand he wiped at them quickening the drying.

He pressed his eyes shut willing the image of her from the darkness of his mind.

“Please pull me from the dark.” He spoke to the night.

Like a cool refreshing gust of wind over a hot face he could see her standing there. Satiating the empty feeling that shame had carved out. Full lips parted into a smile that took his breath away, long black curly hair moved as if in water, surrounded by a blurry white radiance. She looked like an angel, he thought. Infinite and perfect to him, with shades of colors he never saw before as she watched him in return.

Bucky was starving, but not for food. But for the moment that never happened. He wondered if he was asking for too much. The old dreams of young adulthood, those minor pursuits and wants were lost to him now. He wanted her. The woman, who had touched his broken mind and did not shrink back from the challenge even when she knew his identity. And she was real, not this blurry image he kept dragging back up. 

He tried to recall the images their sharing of history. The fast colors that surged through him focused as she unreservedly opened up herself. An invitation, he thought. A sweet, delicious peek into the person who called to his inner indecisiveness. The fear and hesitation within him moved out of the way for her. And he felt a bit peace with who he was and what he had done.

But in those memories shared he saw the woman without the angelic façade. She was human and her fallibility was matched by her willingness to over come conflict. He got to know her in those fleeting moments, the real woman. He would not stop himself from wondering about her safety, if she was happier now or if she too had dreams that plagued her sleep. He had set his sights on her along time ago. He had decided to let the fear of obsession fall away. And now that he knew she was real. He felt the pull to be closer to her more than ever. She was the person he desperately wanted to be in his life. Someone who understood that the monster was forced on him. That the part of him she touched was good, though twisted. He had to believe he was more than what happened to him, despite how the trauma manifested. And he had to believe that this connection wasn't one sided.

Bucky drank from the memory greedily while urgently needing to feel some of what she had. It made him feel alive and hopeful for now, but it was getting harder to retain the powerful feeling of her. He wanted more than what his mind could offer. 

But he would have to settle for a fading recollection, for now.

[au-drayton-shenanigans]

ooc

I was thinking about some stuff about cloak guy's universe. Gonna spill this can of beans

As much as I like mainly using cloak guy on here, he wasn't originally meant to exist- or be so prominent in my imaginary multiverse. He was only created in my head to further Beast's character development. Like. Supposed to be "just some normal looking throwaway au Drayton who had a weird encounter and is never brought up again". Plan was, Beast wakes up from his super long slumber and crawls through a portal that opens up because he smells food from it and he's desperate. (Of course he's starving after being asleep for thousands of years) and through the portal he meets what was meant to be a completely normal Drayton who is forced on a small adventure until Beast can figure out how to get home(portal closed behind him lol).

Then after all that was done and over with, I thought I would never see that au again. It was a throwaway au and all that. Nothin really remarkable about it.

EXCEPT later. I saw it again in the daydreaming. Things began picking up into a scenario where cloak guy was sent into the past and he set something up that wiped out so many multiverse plot holes I had been. ignoring. until then. That adventure with the time travel is also where he got the cloak and also a few of his scars. including the mess his arms are in. He rescued beast au Crispin(ancient legendary warrior because I hate making sense also not every au has characters at the same age. This one's pretty extreme though cuz this was before the beasts had their own universe) (also in modern day, beast au Crispin should be long dead history but cloak guy accidentally gave him immortality when he left. Beast au Crispin is locked into being 12 years old and alive forever whoops) anyway he had pulled him out of lava and his arms melted off. They grew back because of the magic cloak but not without being permanently scarred. The situation was kind of funny in a strange way. Beast au Crispin beginning to say "thanks" and about to continue into saying "you saved my life" but that was interrupted by cloak guy sassily screaming "you owe me everything, fuzz-face!" Cloak guy lore. I could go off on how he got every scar but that's not the ramble I'm going for.

So. Cloak guy (and an au Hop known as Reaper) created the world that the beasts would move into to escape oppressors.

Since then, there have been numerous times where things originating in cloak guy's universe have pushed bigger things in motion from the background. Like- acting from the shadows. Not directly in the situation, but being a huge influence in the background.

This au doesn't have a name like the others do.

Beast's universe, I call the beast au. And even in the canon of the fantasy multiverse, it's called the beast world.

Wizard's universe I call the wizard au because that's the general theme of it and stuff. In canon, the world would have some kind of fantasy-esque name. Just haven't thought of one yet(I mean, this au is a relatively new one that came to me in an actual dream- not a daydream), but I have a vague idea of how it should be at least.

Bat's universe I call the alien apocalypse au because it was in an alien apocalypse. Aliens invaded and a lot of people died or got mutated or got traumatized or multiple of those or all of those (apart from a few exceptions who were very very lucky). In canon it's called the galaxial realm.

But cloak guy's universe has nothing. No code word I call it and no canon name or anything. It doesn't even have a general theme I could go off of either.

The main point of the ramble though, is that I'm giving it one.

This au somehow keeps bringing forth bigger things from something that seems small and insignificant at first. Working from the shadows. You know.

Also the thing with how much of cloak guy's magic powers appear all shadowy. (He's supposed to be the multiverse's embodiment of life itself but he accidentally has more spooky vibes like a plague doctor instead of the more angelic look someone might picture a spirit of life creature to look and I love it) (I also like that his true form is like a big plague doctor owl thing and also has 3 legs like that uh- mythical crow creature. idk) (I could go on a ramble about how he discovered that he's not human but in fact one of the deity-like creatures in the imaginary multiverse though that's perhaps a ramble for another time)

Going to call his au the shadow au.

Still have nothing as far as a canon in-multiverse name for that universe, but hey the au has a code name now.

The more scars cloak guy gets, the funnier this super old video gets If you can't tell what it says it's "Yes he goes on an adventure in this au but is otherwise supposed to keep looking like the canon Drayton. Mostly" "Keep any scars subtle. Okay?" *scrolls down to arms* "Oops"

Hehe this drawing I did when I was first beginning to suspect "ok maybe I'm going to be seeing this au Drayton more after all?"

[overnightheartbeats]

He didn't acknowledge her response, what for? It took them this long to agree on something, and it was objectively, the least important part of the conversation. Why only the least important part? Why did she only give him responses to the least important parts?

Was it truly a crime, to want to know about your partner's life? Admittedly, there was a point in life where believed the answer was yes. It was a crime, a terrible thing that would send anyone running for the hills. For him, it was much easier to pretend his family was away constantly, not really in his life. That his past was non-existent. Somewhere down the line though, Eric understood that hiding it could bring more danger than good. Hell, wasn’t there like fifty movies with that plot? Eric couldn’t stand the idea of losing her, losing one more thing to that family history. That's what motivated him to tell her. It wasn’t easy, but he came clean and even tried convincing her to leave. That killed him, and looking back, it was the stupidest thing he could’ve done. Convincing her to go was his selfless act, an attempt to spare her from the mayhem. But she stayed, and he felt clean. Perhaps, for the first time in his life. But if he had been honest, done the right thing, why were things still falling apart? Trying to make sense of it hurt his head. Zoe had promised to stay, but he wouldn't remind her that. She said she was suffocating, hating herself the more he loved her, and Eric couldn't bring himself to be selfish. Not when his love caused her so much pain. It wouldn't end, Eric knew he'd love her more each day. At what point, would she combust? It certainly felt that way, like holding a ticking time bomb..one that he loved, and couldn't let go of.

Eric braced himself for further arguing the minute he heard 'but' though the sentence died before she even finished it. Giving up already, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Giving up seemed to be a theme between them. Besides, Zoe looked just as tired as he felt. The anger was fading, exhaustion still standing between them. Forget it. It was that simple for her, wasn't it? Always so easy to just forget it. What was she so afraid of? What was so terrible that needed fifty brick walls to protect it? Now, fifty sounded like an exaggeration, but Eric was almost certain that was the right amount. Or at least it felt that way. Break one wall down, two more were built in its place. Would he ever truly know her?

Still, he had meant every word. His love for her never changed. Maybe the first time she walked out, it morphed into anger and hurt. The kind that weighed heavy in his chest, promising to kill him slowly. It was an agonizing pain, and holding on to it would’ve ended him. His hurt eventually became longing, and he began missing her. Bargaining with God, asking for any sign that she’d come back to him. He’d make it right, would do better if she only returned. Now, Eric couldn’t help but wonder if God ever did give him that sign he begged for, or if he just saw what he wanted to believe.

It took all his strength to not pull her in and wipe her tears away. Eric hated that he didn’t throw care away, and ignored the possibility of being pushed away. But his heart was on the brink, one more hit and he’d surely collapse. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head - refusing everything she was saying. Eric didn’t have to change? Why, because it was a useless effort? If who he is was hurting her, then why wouldn’t he try? This was like putting a convoluted puzzle together, Eric felt all the pieces were there, but he still couldn’t figure it out. His gaze fell back on her eyes, just for a moment, before forcing himself to look away. Any longer and he’d call this whole thing off. Beg to forget it all and just go back to half an hour ago, with pizza plans and laughter. A small sigh fell from his lips, destroyed before they met. Title of their story, he thought. Was that what drew them to each other, pain and tragedy. Two broken people. “That doesn’t matter to me..never has. I don’t care for normal, I’ll gladly be ruined by you, every time, but not at your expense.” Her touch never failed to bring him back to life, including this time. Eric found himself almost leaning in, but it wasn’t right. He couldn’t be comforted by her touch when her words were breaking him down piece by piece. When she was setting him free like some injured animal she found and couldn’t fix, back into the wild.

“For both of us? You just decided that for me,” he felt breathless. Realization was sinking in, nothing would change ever mind. Once again, the decision was out of his hands. And Eric couldn’t pinpoint the last time he made a decision for himself. Perhaps, loving her, but he was losing that in the blink of an eye. Eric couldn’t fight her on the decision, better for her or for both of them. He had already given his word, he wouldn’t stop her if that was her call. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, a humorless chuckle falling. Once again agreeing with him, this should be a record. He’d saiid that same phrase to her before, completely amazed or amused, but never this way. A kiss on the forehead was all he would take, the last kiss. It felt a lot like goodbye, but Eric saw it coming the moment she said she was suffocating. How do you keep someone by your side knowing you’re killing them? His ears must’ve been deceiving him, imagining Zoe apologizing to him. Though, that didn’t explain the tug at his sleeve. As his brows furrowed, a frown formed on his face. Confusion washing over his features. Apologizing, what for? Eric couldn’t bring himself to answer, to refuse her apology, or just to speak. He had run out of words, nothing useful remained. Just more hurtful words and resentment, and he didn’t have it in him to unleash more.

His mind went blank, her hand on his neck causing a shiver down his spine. It was all happening too fast for his mind to process. Apologies still spilling from her lips and he couldn’t decide what to focus on. Before he knew it, her lips crashed on his and Eric swore there was a little voice in his head urging him to stop. He couldn’t take much more of this, his mind reminded him. But, then why was his heartbeat returning to his chest? His heart begged to be mended, and her lips were doing precisely that. Even if for a moment. Eric’s hands traveled down to her waist, pulling her into him and away from the door that threatened to let her go. Maybe this was the last kiss after all, Zoe granting him once last wish. His arms wrapped around her, desperation and anguish on his lips, as he deepened their kiss. If the kiss didn’t end, then she’d stay a little longer. If he held her a bit tighter, she’d stick to him and wouldn’t let go. Was that so wrong, to want a little more love to hold on to. “Zoe..I-” breathy mumbles coming out against her lips. Where he was going with that, he wasn’t sure. Zoe I love you, Zoe I can’t do this..it was 50/50 right now.

The more that time went on, the more Zoe became burdened with the weight of a horrible fact: she had made a terrible mistake. Things had escalated so far now, she couldn't just halt in her tracks and admit she was wrong. The things she had said to him...the pain engraved in his face whenever she spoke... the damage had already been done and the more she knew she was losing him. She was too stubborn to admit she was wrong, not wanting to show herself up after all was said and done. It was too late to recognise where she went wrong and it was probably too late to apologise for this whole predicament. It wouldn't feel sincere. Not after the way she had gotten so twisted and infuriated by something so menial. Something so stupid in the long run. To apologise now and swiftly move on, sweep it under a rug would feel pathetic. It was too late; she had to own it. What was she supposed to say? 'Haha. Sike?' No, she couldn't. Couldn't bear to humiliate herself again... she'd already done it enough that night. She knew how stupid she sounded when Eric repeated her words aloud like he was trying to make it make sense to himself. Zoe couldn't look at him, her gaze still downcast to the scuffs of her shoes. "Yes," she replied monotonously, not elaborating much further on that. Because in reality, she didn't know what else to say. She'd already said enough, hadn't she? A rueful smile taunted her lips; finally, they could agree on something. For the first time since their argument, or whatever it was. It had taken so long. Too long.

Zoe knew there were parts of her she never wanted Eric to see. He had given her everything, every part of him, nothing missing. And she so badly wanted to do the same. Like he had when he told her about his family and she so nearly lost him because for a moment he thought trying to convince her to leave would be better. If only she had listened to him instead of being too obstinate. It would have been easier for her if she went then. Instead of holding on to him for dear life and promising she would stay, that nothing he said could deter her away from him. That he couldn't get rid of her so easily. When she was on the verge of leaving anyway. Running when the going got tough was all she'd ever known. This was the longest she had tried to make it work, had tried to stay. But how could she continue to stay knowing she was drowning? Consumed by an ocean's worth of insurmountable love for the man - the love of her life - and yet a lifetime of deeply rooted hatred for herself? There was no balance. The scales had tipped and now look at the chaos she was about to leave. It would have been kinder to walk away from him sooner. Or to have never even returned. He would have been better off without her chaos. Zoe thought she had it under control, to be able to love him completely and have her own feelings about herself shoved aside.

But the more he'd clung to her, the more she realised she couldn't have it both ways. Would it have changed anything, if she told him about her life, her past, her upbringing? She had always been vague with him. Alluded to things like never having anyone, having always taken care of herself... god. She'd even told him her fucking parents were dead so she didn't have to speak of them. Even though they were very much alive. Not that she cared enough to know how they were doing, because it would only mean they'd try and reel her back in, continue to take and take and take from her. They'd already taken enough from her. Eric deserved someone who could love him completely, someone who can tell him all about the skeletons in their closet. Not someone like Zoe, who had her walls up so high that he could barely knock down a brick. And every time he was about to break through to her, they would go straight back up. The truth was, she didn't even know why. It was instinct. Survival tactics. A bad habit. One she could never break.

The firm 'no' that came from his mouth had rendered her confused. Her brows knitted, lines sewn into her forehead. But hadn't he just said they ought to rethink their relationship? "But you literally just said -" Zoe sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Then decided against it with yet another sigh. It wasn't worth it. They could just go round and round in circles and still never come up to a feasible conclusion, one they could agree on. And she was exhausted of...everything. The arguing. The running around in circles. All of it was too much. She just wanted to vanish into thin air. Maybe sleep for a few hundred years. If only. "Forget it." The first time she did not fight back. How he sounded so certain of his statements though. Never wavering. Even if he was lowkey contradicting himself in her mind - then again, she shouldn't really talk because she's done the same plenty of times. This may have been one of the first times in a long time that he didn't instantly pull her in once the tears built up. It felt like roles had been reversed; she was the one getting emotional and he... not a single tear in sight. Zoe wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Or maybe a sign that she had hit the final nails in the coffin of their relationship after all. Zoe hugged her arms around herself like it would provide her with the same comfort he would've given her any other time. It didn't.

But then he opened his mouth and it cut through her like a knife. I can change. I'll do better. Her entire body felt like a fresh, open wound. Carved open, raw, and bloody. Gaping. Zoe chewed on her lip as though it would stop the tears from spilling, but it was useless. Silent tears trickled down her cheeks and helplessly, she shook her head at him. "You shouldn't have to change...You don't need to change anything... You shouldn't have to i-" she choked out, hating her vulnerable she sounded. No matter how many times she would attempt to get out what she wanted to say, it wouldn't make a difference. Words weren't enough. She didn't deserve to be vulnerable or upset. This was all on her. She had no right to be upset at the outcome. Her head was spinning; if it wasn't for her back that had been pressed against the door to stop him from leaving, she was sure she'd have toppled over by now. Every little movement, every word spoken, every time she looked at Eric and looked away, it tore a piece of her more and more. She physically ached. Everything hurt. Hearing him echo her words had her averting her gaze again, looking down at the floor in shame. I don't want this to destroy you. He still didn't quite get it, did he? "It's not...the problem is, I was already destroyed before you and I ever even met." The words were quiet yet still honest. What difference would it make? They were already on the cusp of destroying everything they ever had. Her hands covered her face, wiping the tears that would not stop falling. Her body felt like the weight of lead, ready to drop at any moment. "The problem is I was already ruined before we started anything, before we... And... I thought I could be normal. Or that I could learn to be. But it was a fantasy. And as much as I love you, I can't bear to ruin you more than I already have. More than I've already ruined myself." She smiled sadly at him, her thumb reaching up to stroke his cheek tenderly like she was handling a fragile antique. "I don't want to lose you either. But I...I don't want you to end up like me." Zoe could only hope he would understand that. How much it was physically paining her to say all of this, to let him go...

But then he changed within an instant and she let her hand fall back down to her side again. Anguish turned into...anger? Resentment? She tried to step back but forgot she was right next to the door. This was how it must feel like to talk to Zoe. This must have been how he felt right when they were joking one minute and arguing the next. The adjustment on his part wasn't as drastic though. And she was exhausted beyond repair, her instincts to fight back disintegrated, evaporated into thin air. Defeated. "For both of us," she clarified quietly, though she struggled to get the words out so much she wasn't even sure he heard her. Now he was rubbing it in. Now he was doing the very thing she'd accused him of in the first place. But it wasn't a misunderstanding this time. It was very much real. Her blood ran cold. "It's not fair. You're right." What else was she supposed to say? A feeble shrug rolled from her shoulders. Everything changed within seconds, she was dizzy with whiplash. One minute he was begging her to let him change, the next minute he was fuming - and understandably so - and then the next, he was...surrendering? Zoe saw the look on his face. He finally had enough, hadn't he? All she wanted was to have space... to have room to breathe. To not feel like she was suffocating under the weight of trying to be everything he needed. To be independent for five minutes. The words came all out wrong. She'd done this so, so wrong. The last thing she wanted was to lose him completely...maybe for them to take a break. Or for her to just...exist by herself for however long she needed. but this? This felt a lot like goodbye. Instinctively, she leaned into his touch, letting her eyes shut, committing everything to memory, as it may be the last time. As soon as he retreated, she found herself moving forward, her fingers tugging at his sleeve, pulling him back. "Eric, I'm -" Was it selfish, to hold him back again, when she was just speaking of letting him go? She knew too much was done, too much said... too much hurt exchanged. And yet...she just wanted to be close to him once more. In case it was the last time. "I'm sorry." Sorry for what? Ruining them? Or sorry for potentially making the situation more complicated and confusing with what she was about to do next? Zoe was being selfish at this point. Wasn't thinking straight. Her head was in 500 different places and she just... needed this moment, needed him in case it was the last. She was already losing him - her own fault, but still he was her everything...She had nothing else to lose. It wasn't like she could switch her feelings for him off just like that. "I'm sorry," she muttered again before moving forwards, one hand cupping the back of his neck as she urged herself closer, pressing her lips against his, pouring all of her love for him in this one kiss. She was selfish and knew this wasn't alleviating problems. He'd literally just given her an out. She could go. Should go. After everything... but there Zoe was, reeling him in again, pulling him closer.

[kitkatt0430]

The Future Flash and The Identity of Savitar

Or how Season 3 could have still had Barry as Savitar but made it more interesting. And avoided the painful aesthetic that was the future Barry sporting a rats nest for hair.

So I remember one of the theories floating around for Savitar's identity after he dropped the 'future flash' comment was that he was Barry. Specifically the version of Barry from the future that Eobard erased when he murdered Nora Allen. Protected by the Speed Force, that Barry survived the change to history... but arrived in a future so different from the one he knew that he immediately sought to 'fix' it.

That theory and the one that Savitar was somehow Barry's time remnant that died at the end of season 2 were probably the two closest to the answer we eventually got. After all, the bad guy was Barry Allen in some form or fashion. I never put much credence into the season 2 time remnant theory, but I did enjoy the one involving the OG timeline's Barry Allen. The Barry that time (and the show writers) forgot.

Now, while I firmly believe that doing three seasons of speedster main villains in a row was way too much, I do think that the Savitar arc would've been greatly improved by having Barry face off against the OG Barry Allen. The version of himself that he's been quietly measuring himself up to all this time and found himself wanting. And suddenly here he is, trying to rewrite time to match what he's lost.

It works best if Barry didn't run off to create Flashpoint at the end of season two, I think. Though there will be a Flashpoint. It just comes later.

Savitar's arc is no longer his struggle to become a separate person from Barry or to break free of the paradox his very existence depends on. Instead, on arrival in the future he discovers the Barry of this timeline has been dead for months and now Wally is the Flash. Iris has their daughter Nora, but the twins are no where to be found. And being too different from this timeline's Barry, OG Barry can't simply slip into the life the other Barry left behind. This isn't his Iris, his Wally, his family... and when Barry decides to set right what went wrong... these alternate versions of the people he loves try to stop him. And while fighting Wally in order to return to the speed force in order to travel all the way back to that fateful evening in March 2000, Barry accidentally causes what he thinks is Wally's death. But, of course, he's going to fix that. He's going to fix it all.

The parts in the future might be shown as flashbacks from Savitar's point of view, scattered throughout the season. He's sympathetic - trying to fix what Eobard broke is a pretty natural reaction to finding that the timeline isn't what it was before. But what he's trying to do will wipe out the current timeline. He's trying to play god, in a manner of speaking, deciding who lives and who dies and casting judgement on an entire timeline for daring not to be the one he remembers.

Meanwhile in the current timeline, Barry's struggling with his grief. He lost his father and watched an alternate version of himself die to save the multiverse and he's struggling with his mental health. Part of him wonders if maybe the wrong Barry Allen died that night because he doesn't know how to carry on when everything hurts so much. There's also the arrival of his new coworker that's causing problems at work - Julian Albert Desmond - and the mystery of the cocoons that seem to be transforming people into metahumans.

In the midst of all this, Jay shows up and accuses Barry of altering the timeline. Which he very much hasn't. Clearing up the misunderstanding leads to the discover of Savitar, who is trying to reach further back in time, but seems to have hit a wall going any further back than 2016. Barry thinks the man in the armor is Eobard Thawne, which amuses Savitar but he doesn't give his real identity. Instead he curb stomps Barry and Jay, using their lack of experience fighting together in order to use them against each other. He calls himself Savitar, but also the Future Flash. Though much like canon Savitar, the way he says it is somewhat ambiguous so that it's not obvious to the characters that he's an alt version of Barry.

Jay leaves to investigate the Speed Force itself to find clues to Savitar's identity, while Barry focuses on the cocoon mystery. Dr. Alchemy would this become the season's secondary antagonist though I, admittedly, haven't really fleshed out his aims just yet. Though if I were to turn this into a fanfic series I'd probably take a look at some of his motivations from the comics and see what's there for me to beg/borrow/steal.

Savitar, of course, keeps showing up and is focused on Barry in a way that reinforces Barry's belief that he's Eobard Thawne back to ruin his day. He teams up with some of the metas created by Alchemy, but is visibly disturbed when Wally gains the abilities of a speedster and becomes Kid Flash.

Through this Cisco's developing his powers and glimpses visions of alternate timelines being created and destroyed by Savitar. Never the right timeline, so he keeps traveling further and further back. Cisco sees the timelines in reverse order until, finally, he sees far enough 'back' into the alternate futures to realize the true identity of Savitar - which would probably be the mid season finale point.

While the Rival isn't fast enough to help Savitar venture further into the past, it's soon clear Wally is. And Jay returns to explain what he's discovered - the Speed Force itself is blocking Savitar from going further back. Savitar was able to overcome her enforcers - the time wraiths and the black flash - and so she's had to create the equivalent of a physical block. Savitar's continual re-writing of the timeline has consequences beyond his understanding and if he doesn't stop he could rip apart the very fabric of their universe.

Savitar, however, manages to trick Wally and through him Barry and maybe even Jesse too. He generates enough speed between the multiple speedsters that he opens a breach and heads back to 2000 to reset the change that started it all... and get his family back the way they were. The way they should be.

Barry, of course, travels after him. And witnesses the creation of Flashpoint. But it's still not the timeline that Savitar came from. In fact, the world ceases to exist after 2024 in this timeline because... this time around there is no Flash at all. Barry Allen doesn't become the Flash because there is no particle accelerator failure. And the Eobard Thawne that Savitar dragged back to the future with him finally gets the last laugh because... this version of Barry Allen is literally not the Flash anymore. He's become every bit the villain Eobard has been. And, as far as Eobard is concerned, that means he won.

Meanwhile the Barry from our timeline stumbles into the new timeline's 2017. His parents are alive, but this timeline's Barry doesn't have powers and, being similar enough to our Barry, the two integrate. Which means Barry's the only Barry... at least until Savitar shows back up again. Until that happens, however, we see Barry losing his powers a bit more every time he uses them. Flashpoint would get more than a single episode's exploration here, with Barry struggling to accept his place in this timeline because he doesn't want to perpetuate Savitar's mistakes even as he realizes it means giving up his powers. But then Savitar and Thawne show up in the present because... if the timeline isn't reset, then the universe itself - and possibly the multiverse itself - will be destroyed.

Barry's already sacrificed himself once to save the multiverse. He isn't about to let that be in vain. So he agrees to an enemy mine situation with Savitar and the Reverse Flash. With the Speed Force no longer blocking time travel, the three of them easily return to the past even with Barry's diminished connection to the speed force.

Eobard, of course, double crosses them once in the past. He kills the version of the Flash that first arrived chasing after Eobard's own past self. Meaning there's no longer a version of the Flash to fight him in the Allen's family home or to stop him from killing the eleven year old Barry Allen.

Savitar is fading from the paradox this creates, since it occurred while he wasn't in the speed force it means he wasn't protected from the fall out. But he manages to do one final good thing. And he helps Barry to strengthen his own connection to the Speed Force again. Savitar - OG Barry - finally throws off pretenses and admits that he went too far and that he let his rivalry with Eobard go to far. Instead of accepting what he'd lost, he kept trying to force time to do his bidding and to give it all back to him. But this Barry could do what he couldn't. He could learn to accept his losses.

Barry becomes the Flash who fights with Eobard in the Allen family home and who shakes his head at S1 Barry to stop him from running in to save Nora. Barry is the one who saves his eleven-year-old self and who has to take a moment to watch from afar as his father is arrested for a crime he didn't commit.

When Barry returns to the present of 2017, it's much like the timeline he remembers. Except the events with Savitar no longer took place because Eobard erased him. And there's an implication that the Eobard who killed the version of Barry who became Savitar is the same one who had been menacing the Legends all season, so that still lines up nicely. The season could then end on a surprisingly quiet note, wrapping up the much lower stakes fight with Alchemy. And, perhaps, Barry proposing to Iris, whom he's been dating all season.

There would be hints that the timeline is more different than it might seem at first glance. Cisco's vibe suit is a little different. Caitlin's frost powers are more developed (no Killer Frost personality here). Maybe the circumstances of Henry's death are slightly different.

[whump-town]

The Principle of Universal Causation

Warnings: Child abuse, smoking, drinking, & suicide

No Pairings

Get on the bus lads cause we are headed towards yet another shit show --

The Principle of Universal Causation

We derive the idea of The Principle of Universal Causation, from the philosopher David Hume, which states that every event has its cause. It is evident that we invoke such a principle every time we explain anything; for example, death.

Chapter One: Family History

It was early October when his father died. Virginia was in the flux of fall, winter ebbing in ever so slowly. Gaining strength with every rainfall. The temperature dropped further and further until it seemed the sky had swallowed the sun, held it captive behind thick grey clouds anchored in the sky. Sean was getting upset, overwhelmed by both his premature grief and the way the adults around them swarmed him. It was far from the first time Aaron had ever seen how selfish adults could be. Their constant flow of affection smothering, pulling at Sean for their own needs and not to comfort the six-year-old losing his father. They clung to his youth, to his warmth and brightness like he were the sun itself.

If Sean were the sun, Aaron could only be the moon. God demanded light but he did not banish the darkness, one cannot exist without the other. The shift in hours, the sun setting sooner now than it had before, left a similar bitterness in the mouths of their family. The inexplicable way Aaron could no longer be shoved aside, his presence inexcusable and loud. The firstborn son, rising before he should. Breathing where he should fall silent, nonexistent.

Richard Hotchner dies in the hospital, sometime around two in the afternoon while his sons are still in school.

The wound rubbed so rawly that blood still wept but no longer feels, their mother moves through October like a ghost. Her breathe wreaked of alcohol, her lips continuously wrapped around a cigarette even though Aaron had never seen her pick up one in his life. His father smoked and his mother drank -- they rarely shared these habits with one another. The lingering scent of Newports was all she had left of the man she always promised Aaron she’d leave -- wiping his tears with her blood-stained palms, “I won’t let him touch you again, baby.” But he stopped believing that lie when he was seven when she stopped coming to comfort him after and instead asked in despair why he couldn’t just listen.

She drowns herself.

It’s Halloween and she’s nowhere to be seen. Slipping back into the before, skipping stairs that groan under the pressure of weight and only eating food that no one will notice is missing, isn’t that hard and Aaron felt stupid for thinking his life had evolved past that point. To be so naive to think his father was the only monster living within their four walls. Their relatives, termites moving on to their next meal once their home had been hallowed out, have left the destruction for them to figure out. Meaning Aaron is entirely alone to take care of Sean.

But that was nothing new.

They returned from trick or treating, Sean now whining about how the costume Aaron had to pull together at the last minute out of a hoodie, markers, and some ducktape was too big and itchy, to a silent house. There was little fighting had over sleeping, whining, nearly to the point of tears out of his exhaustion, Sean climbed up into Aaron’s bed. Fisting his tears away from his face Sean was always succumbing to his need for sleep when he whimpered, “but I want Mommy to tuck us in.”

Aaron hadn’t been so much as hugged by his mother in years, let alone tucked into his bed, but he still smiled. Still, kissed Sean’s cold forehead and offered, “how about I tuck us in? Just like mom does it.” It would have to do, wherever their mother had gone off to she wouldn’t be returning.

He’s one day shy of seventeen years old when he finds her, the water still running. For a long moment, he just stands there, the water keeps flowing. She never prepared him for this one. He knows what to say when someone asks about the bruises on his arm -- a wry smile and a shrug, “racketball, little shits hurt” -- but not this. She never taught him about this.

He’s sitting out on the curb by himself when the social worker comes. Sean is long gone, their uncle came to get him before the ambulance could even get there. Leaving behind the other son, the fuck-up. She smells like cigarettes but not Newports and obviously hasn’t heard of personal space because she sits down right beside him. “I’m Kay,” she says. There’s a moment of silence before she imitates what she assumes his voice would sound like, far too deep but right about the seriousness. “Hi Kay, I’m Aaron.”

He hates her but she doesn’t go away.

Though it’s not her fault he still blames her for the way his uncle jostles his shoulder at his mother’s funeral. The sad but ultimately decisive way the older man offers, “you understand, don’t you? You’ll just get a job. You’re already an adult, you don’t need nobody looking after you. Not like Sean, he’s just a baby.” He nods around the tears in his eyes, bites down on his lip so that they don’t fall. What about him, huh? What about the baby they left every Christmas sitting in a dirty diaper unfed because he was too small to eat solid foods? What about the five-year-old with sullen eyes and a bruise on his throat flinching as he was pulled from the room, getting beaten for some minor infraction made up on the spot just for the sport of his father needing an emotional outlet? Why does Sean always get to be the child? What did he do so wrong to be deprived of the mercy of childhood?

You’re already an adult, they excuse but he can’t think of a time when he was ever a child.

Kay knew before the funeral what the plans for Aaron were -- his aunt and uncle didn’t want to send him to foster care so they’re leaving him at the house. Showing the social work department the same amount of disinterest as they show Aaron to his face, he’ll age out of foster care before they can really put him in it and it’s pointless. “He’s a… decent kid,” his uncle offers. “He can take care of himself.” It kills her to watch Aaron’s uncle choose the funeral as the moment to tell him their decision -- that they’re just abandoning this poor kid, again.

“It’s okay to be upset,” Kay promises

She brings pizza and coke to the house, knows he hasn’t been eating. Can do nothing more than watch worriedly when he picks at a single slice before putting it down. Twisting his fingers into his sweater and pulling his legs up to his chest.

He looks away from her, eyes on the wall instead of the television playing softly between them. “What if I’m not?” he asks, voice hardly a whisper. “What then?”

She’s surprised, honestly, that he answers. Though his offering of complete defiance isn’t as surprising. She’s heard him speak maybe five words in the week she’s known him. “Nothing, Aaron,” she quick to assure him. She sits up, clearing her throat, “but, one day you will be. Maybe not today. Maybe not for a while but that’s okay, too. There isn’t a right answer to grief.”

He hums, seems to take that as answer enough until he looks over at her. “Well…” he adds, he manages to look at her with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. The smallest forced smile. Trying so hard to pull himself up, claw his way back alive. He shrugs, “suppose murder, maybe. That’s not a good answer.”

She chokes, sputters at first. He’s offered her shrugs, simple “yes” or “nos” to everything she’s asked or said to him. A joke is so new, it’s groundbreaking. “No,” she agrees, smiling and sharing that contagious little grin of his. “No, I would reckon maybe not murder.”

He smirks, proud that his joke landed.

“Aaron?”

“Aaron?”

“Aaron.” He flinches at the sudden contact, the world coming back to him suddenly -- the beige of the carpet beneath his feet and the green of the fabric beneath his fingers. His therapist retracts her hand from his leg, her movements slow and cautious. She treats him like a wounded animal and considering how he snaps at her, arms himself with cruel words and harsh dismissals, maybe she’s not too far off. “Where were you just now?” Her pen is laid down flat on her notebook, her fingers pressing it into the page. Which he’s learned means she’s fighting the urge to pick it up, which she can’t do if she wants him to speak. “I asked if your family has a history of heart disease but you didn’t answer.”

Back to seventeen, he thinks bitterly. He has to run his finger under his nose, worries with his fingers for a moment until the thickness of the scent of cigarettes leaves his senses. It felt so real. Like he was standing in the living room. Could feel Kay’s cold hand on his shoulder, offering him a compliment in that way only she was able. He hums, still stuck back in another time. He sits up, straightens himself back up. “Oh,” he clears his throat, “I apologize.”

His therapist shakes her head, “it’s quite alright.”

He nods, fidgets some more before he manages to look up. It escapes neither of their notice how he keeps running his thumb along the tips of his fingers like he does when he’s thinking hard about something. Before they got anywhere, he’d do it before explaining a profile to her. Now he does it before he deflects a question or considers lying. He nods his head, “I don’t know. From what I know, no. Not that I know of.” The silence stays and he sighs. He’s fine with the silence, really, but he also knows this is her way of asking him for more information. Allowing him to fill in what he’s purposefully withholding. “My father died of lung cancer and my mother--” his hesitance gives him away but he keeps going-- “ she died when I was seventeen. Their parents were dead before I was born.”

They look at each other for a long moment, she’s waiting for clarification on his mother. Why specify with his father but not her? He doesn’t offer more.

She hums, writes something down -- she’s learned to tilt her journal up to accommodate his ability to read upside down. “And, the team,” she looks back up. “How did Emily react?”

He winces, “haven’t told her.”

She looks up.

“I was going to,” he defends. This is what they talked about last week, narrowing down a place to start. She’d offered some helpful sentiment about overwhelming options and let him narrow down who he thought might take the news the best. Who is least likely to cry. Least likely to freak out. He wasn’t all that sure Emily was really the right option. She wouldn’t tell anyone else if he told her. She wouldn’t step on his toes. But they met for lunch and she cried. She’d brushed tears away and added them up to old age getting the best of her and how could reasonably add to her week of hell? How could he tell her about statistics? About event monitors and stress tests?

It’s clear she doesn’t believe him.

“I was,” he offers, feeling himself get defensive. He clenches his jaw, takes a breath. “I was,” he mumbles, softer this time. “She needed my support, not my… my trouble.” He was going to, honestly. Made himself so sick just thinking about it that he had to turn his event monitor on. At least he’d give the doctor’s something to look at. “So, I -- I was going to tell Derek.” If Emily could handle it, Derek probably could too. He’d be more worried about where he’s going to find a new babysitter. But then Hank… “I couldn’t.” Derek came in and hugged him, not entirely out of the blue but not typical either. An arm around his shoulder and the familiar scent of sawdust.

She nods, solemnly. “Aaron,” she looks up and he knows she’s seeing the clock. Their time is up and he’s grateful. She sighs, “you know you can’t do this alone.”

He knows. That’s not the trouble. He’s just dumb enough to try anyway. “I’ll see you next week,” he offers. He stands, room spinning, so he breathes slowly and calmly through his mouth until the heat abates a little from his face. Until he’s certain he can stand without falling over. “I’ll tell them,” he promises. “I know I have to tell them.”

It’s two o’clock and Derek needs him to pick Hank up from the repair job he’s doing on fourth street.

“Woah --”

Impending doom.

He’s read it enough times to know it’s a symptom a lot of people feel before a major health crisis but impending doom? He’d never felt that before. Not before he collapsed, internal bleeding trying to kill him. Not laying on his apartment on his floor, a knife sitting in his abdomen while Foyet rambled.

Impending doom.

Oh.

[orangerosebush]

“Do you remember the hall of portraits in Fowl Manor?”

Myles presumed this was rhetorical and did not answer.

“Everyone on the left side of that hall died because of the fairies. Fowl and fairy, friends forever. That’s our secret motto, right? Well, it cost us. My own brother. My grandmother. Two uncles. My stepsister gave her own life for a squadron of LEP paratroopers. My mother lost an eye. I lost a leg.”

“The Fowl Twins Deny All Charges.” by Eoin Colfer

See, I'm torn on how to deal with this frankly blink-and-you-miss-it unhinged piece of (what I've taken to calling) nouveau-canon. In TFT2, Fowl Sr. makes the claim that the residual magic on the Fowl Estate caused a certain predisposition towards discovering magic, and that the Fowls have, in fact, been helping keep the existence of the People secret throughout the ages — which is how all the members of the Fowl family whom he lists off died. Or something.

On one hand, it's a new series, we need conflict, etc, etc. This could a weird retcon of the original series' canon, which is pretty explicit about the fact that even if the magical residue has predisposed the Fowls towards a belief in the supernatural (which even culminated in Fowl. Sr. soooort of kidnapping a dwarf when he was younger, before being swiftly mindwiped), Artemis is the only one who has had the kind of consistent and sustained contact with the People that could be called an alliance. Like, we can say that perhaps Fowl Sr.'s claim of the Fowls helping the People maintain their hidden existence is true as of the TFT series, but in terms of what is canon in the first eight books, the idea of any form of "Fowl and fairy" existing pre-Artemis is pretty sans evidence.

On the other hand, it's very possible to read this as Fowl Sr. being deeply, deeply deluded about the Fowls' relationship to magic. Not even in the sense that he is lying, nor that he is obstinately choosing to ignore reality so as to hold these beliefs. He mentions:

“I didn’t remember any of [the history I just mentioned regarding Fowls and the People], because they mind-wiped me years ago, but Artemis stimulated my hippocampus before he left. And I realized that the fairies were attracted to us because of the residual magic in the Fowl estate.”

Like. "Stimulated [his] hippocampus"? Moreover, the fact that he claims that he came to this realization after his "hippocampus stimulation", which is suggestive of him creating this worldview that posits the People have been responsible for nearly every tragedy that befell the Fowls in his lifetime (a brother that died! a stepsister that died! both people we have never heard about!), and then having started to alter (unconsciously, perhaps) those aforementioned tragedies to fit into that new ideology. I mean, wouldn't the People have remembered if the 12-year-old holding the People hostage for a ton of gold was somehow related to a human woman who "gave her life for a squadron of LEP paratroopers"? That's exclusively going off the assumption that the stepsister example is true — if the Fowls had since time immemorial been aiding the People, then the People's perception of humans in general would have been radically different. No matter how you cut it, the narrative math does not, will not, can not add up.

The lack of basis in reality the recollection Fowl Sr. has of events is only further highlighted by him claiming he "lost a leg" because of the fairies — and even Myles calls him out on the fact that if anything, he only lost a leg because the People were willing to help save him.

So... idk. Personally, I lean towards the second reading (i.e. that something went really, really wrong when Artemis — and God knows why he would agree to this — consented to perform electroshock/deep brain stimulation on Fowl Sr, who was worried about missing memories from past potential mindwipes).

However, is that the intended reading? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ only time will tell, I guess!

[im-just-a-random-fandom-girl]

trying to articulate my frustrations with Marvel’s treatment of female characters and characters of color

Hi, hello, hola, bonjour. I've been having a lot of thoughts about Marvel’s lack of diversity and of how they treat minority characters, so I'm taking a page out of Luisa’s (@its-tortle) book and just making a long, rambley post to get it all out.

Please bear with me while I try to encapsulate all of my frustration within the limitations of English language.

(ALSO, I'm white. I’m Spanish-American, but I do not have the ability to speak for fans of color and the other grievances they have. This post is just a combination of my own thoughts and what I've heard other people say on Tumblr, in YouTube videos, in articles etc.)

Now that we've had over week to collect ourselves after the WandaVision finale, because it was such a tearjerker and the end of a true masterpiece of a show, we really need to talk about how Marvel treats their their characters of color and female characters. I'll specifically be looking at Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and Monica Rambeau.

Let's start with Sam.

Until Monica Rambeau became Photon just a few weeks ago in WandaVision, Sam was THE ONLY Black superhero in the MCU.

He first appeared in Captain America: The Winter Soldier 7 years ago in 2014, and he's been in 4 movies since then (not counting the post-credits of Ant-Man).

Let's see what we know about Sam in the MCU:

He was a pararescue airman in the U.S. Airforce

His wing-man, Riley, died in combat, prompting him to leave active duty

He works at the VA to help other veterans adjust to civilian life

That's it. This is all we know about his backstory, separate from Captain America. However, the MCU decided to include these parts of his backstory, (and exclude others) because they make him a better supporting character to Steve.

Sam's a vet - so is Steve. They have the same, early-morning run routine that alludes to strict military training. Steve is still new to the future and hardly knows or approaches anyone, but Sam is wearing his VA sweatshirt, so there's some sense of connection, one that is furthered when they talk about their beds being too soft. Sam is someone who can understand him, aside from being a super soldier.

Riley, Sam's wingman, died in combat - Hmm, haven't heard that one befo - oh, wait. *Bucky waves from the abyss of the Alps*. Yeah.

I'm not saying that these connections are bad, in fact, I think the opposite. In terms of storyline, these connections are incredibly important for their friendship. Steve is lost and alone in the future. No one he knows cares about him for any reason other than the fact that he's a super soldier, nor can he relate to any of those people on any level. Sam just fits. He's funny and kind and although they are 60 years apart in age, he can, to some extent, understand what Steve is going through in a way they no one else can.

But for the last 7 years in the MCU, all he's been is Steve's supportive friend.

Almost immediately after meeting Steve, Sam is dragged into an end-of-the-world battle. He readily agrees to put his life on the line to fight by Captain America's side. After SHIELD falls, Sam gives up his life for 2 years to help Steve find Bucky. When they find him, Sam, without a second thought, becomes an international fugitive to protect Bucky and Steve.

I mean, he practically says that he lives in Steve's shadow himself: 

"Don't look at me. I do what he does, just slower."

Who does all this? Seriously? Sam is also a recovering vet. He, in theory, has a life, a family, a job, his own mental well-being to consider, but he immediately gives it all up to help Captain America, to follow in his shadow, to be his back-up and support in every battle. Marvel wrote him as a 2D character that lacks his own identity and agency.

Sam deserves his own storyline; he deserves to exist outside the orbit of Steve Rogers.

What Mackie has been able to do with the character is astounding. He took Sam off the page and truly brought him to life, turning him into a beloved character. I'm ecstatic that both Mackie and Sam finally (hopefully) get their time to shine in TFATWS, but it should have happened WAY sooner. Marvel has continuously overlooked Mackie, despite how much he brings to the movies and despite the significance of Sam as the only Black superhero. It's just so clear that they do not care about representation.

(And let's not start with the whole "Bucky should be Captain America" thing, thanks)

Next, let's talk about Natasha.

Nat has been in the MCU for 11 years, starting with Iron Man 2 in 2010. She was heavily featured in an additional 6 MCU movies (not including small cameos/post-credit sequences). She's one of the few female superheroes in the MCU, and the only one that's been there since the beginning. Nat was the only female superhero for 4 years until Gamora appeared in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Let's see what we know about Natasha's history:

She's a former KGB operative and assassin, trained in the Red Room project

When she was a part of the Red Room, she was sterilized

Clint Barton got her out of the Red Room and converted her to a SHIELD agent

THAT'S IT. The second point is actually nauseating because this is what she says to Banner when we learn about her infertility in Age of Ultron:

"They sterilize you. It’s efficient. One less thing to worry about, the one thing that might matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier — even killing. You still think you’re the only monster on the team?"

Like, actually, what the fuck? I remember watching this scene and having to rewind because I thought I mis-heard what she said. In truth, Natasha is probably referring to the terrible things she was forced to do as a KGB operative are what make her a "monster," but why in the world would they include this anecdote here?? It's just so distasteful and disgusting! It makes it seem like her infertility is what makes her a monster, perpetuating the misogynistic belief that the center of a woman's identity and purpose is to have children.

As Vox says in this article, the subject of Nat's infertility 

"rears its head sub-textually when Black Widow sacrifices herself for the Soul Stone. [...] It’s reasonable for Natasha to make the calculation that Clint’s kids deserve to have a dad when they come back to life after the Avengers complete their “time heist.” But because of that Ultron plot, there’s also an insidious implication that Natasha’s infertility renders Black Widow just a little bit more disposable than the rest of her teammates."

Furthermore, Nat's death in Endgame serves for nothing more than motivation for the other characters working in the time heist, WHICH ARE ALL MALE. Even then, the other characters talk about her death briefly (in a mostly unaffected manner), and by the end of the movie, she's been pretty much forgotten about,  completely overshadowed by Tony Stark.

I don't want to say that Nat shouldn't have died in Endgame. It caused me so much heartache and emotional pain, but I truly believe it was a great way to end her arc. CinemaWins on YouTube put it best:

"She needed to save her family, Clint included, finally wiping the red from her ledger. So much of her jouney in the MCU was trying to find her purpose, figure out which side she was on, and she finally feels like she's found it, just in time to die for it. 

"It's not wrong to feel cheated by her death, [but I think] she deserved this moment because of it's importance."

She says it in the movie: 

"I used to have nothing, and then I got this. This family. And I was better because of it."

Nat shouldn't have to die, but it's on her terms, and she is absolutely ready for it. Saving her chosen family... that is her purpose.

But altogether, over the course of the MCU, Natasha was cheated out of getting the storyline she deserved. Like Sam, she was relegated to the position of the supportive friend of Steve, but also of Bruce and Clint. For the audience, her identity is tied to this role that she plays. The identity and motivations she has independent from these other characters, her history, is skimmed over, and treated with immense disrespect.

It took 11 years, but it is thrilling that Scarlett Johansson finally gets to be the start of her own Marvel movie. There is no way that Black Widow will be able to completely make up for her and Natasha's mistreatment by the MCU, but I hope it will at least bring us some closure and allow us to have a better understanding of Nat's history and who she is away from the other Avengers.

Last, but certainly not least (despite what WandaVision may have you believe) is Monica Rambeau.

I spoke about this last week after posting about this review of the show, but it bears repeating.

Monica is a new character. You'd hope that, after 11 years of extremely limited diversity in the MCU, much to the dismay of fans worldwide, and after recognizing this and creating a movie with a cast like The Eternals, Marvel would try to get their shit together across the board.

Nope!

Monica was seriously the token diversity character of the show. It seemed like they would give her more depth after the episode during which they flashed back to the her during and after the snap, losing her mother, and seeing a little bit of what she's done as an adult since Captain Marvel, but that ended up being the most we got.

But why? Monica literally became a SUPERHERO. She became Photon! She deserved a much greater role in the show, especially in the finale, where she instead had maybe 5 lines and just stopped some bullets for about 30 seconds.

As the review I linked says, 

“There are so many black writers, fans, and critics noting how Monica got relegated to a complete lack relegated to meaningless best friend protector lacking in their own self agency and story except for making a shoehorned comparison of grief.”

Marvel made the same, bull-headed mistake that they made with Sam with Monica!

Let's do this again. Monica was snapped away for 5 years, and when she was snapped back, she learned that her mother had died. Losing someone you love and having the whole process of mourning and pain be complicated by the snap? What an interesti- oh wait. *Vision phases his head through the wall with a smile*

The only reason we got this backstory was because it made her a more sympathetic character towards Wanda. Her understanding of what Wanda is going through allows her to be the catalyst in the creation of the ideological fork in the road between herself, Darcy and Woo, who see Wanda as a victim of grief and loss, and Hayward and the rest of SHIELD, who see her as a dangerous threat.

How do you make the same, major mistake that you've been making for the past 7 years again? Guess what? You don't! Maybe it's not intentional, but Marvel, again, clearly doesn’t care enough about their characters of color to consider the roles they relegate them to in the MCU, realize what they've been doing is harmful, and then change it.

Hopefully, they will not continue to treat Monica this way and will remedy this in the next Captain Marvel.

In conclusion: MARVEL GAVE A FUCKING ROBOT AN ACTUAL ORIGIN STORY, A RELATIONSHIP AND MORE INDEPENDENCE THAN ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS.

But in all seriousness, Marvel needs to be help accountable for how they treat women and their characters of color in the MCU. I just looked at 3, but you could also make a similar argument about Rhodey, Hope van Dyne and Valkyrie, as well as Jane Foster, MJ, and Ned, although they are supporting characters and not superheroes. And I'm sure there are many others. Marvel (and Disney!!) has had an awful track-record, and change is long overdue.

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers  ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

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You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

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Part 6

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This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

[erenthecoordinate]

Chapter 138: Dreams vs Reality

So I’ve sat down with my thoughts on ch138 for about a week analyzing Mikasa’s “vision” for character meta and its function to the plot. Needless to say there are polarizing opinions for obvious reasons- but I still feel the need to share my view bc I think it reveals a lot.

Disclaimer: I realize the issue with ship wars. I don’t intend to claim one thing or another; it’s entirely fair to interpret Eren’s feelings in many ways because that’s how this series works. I have no interest in arguing about it.  I’m only interested in the dream vs reality aspects of the chapter.

For the record, I’m working with two theories here and I emphasize THEORIES. It’s cool to disagree with parts or all of it! I do hope my words get you thinking at least a bit though!

The Butterfly Effect

In order to tackle these two theories, the theory of the “butterfly effect,” paths dividing into multiple timelines originating from one singular timeline depending on Eren’s choices, needs to be considered.  On first introduction to the Attack Titan’s abilities, Eren says that the holder can see future memories of its respectable owners.  Thanks to the Paths, Eren is able to communicate with previous holders, like Grisha, to commit acts that would lead him to obtaining the Attack and Founding Titans.  The Butterfly Effect would kick off the events that we’ve been following along in the story and imply that time exists in a circle, since the reason Eren gets the titans is because he was able to convince Grisha to do so by showing him selective memories.

The issue with this is in ch138, if Mikasa’s reality was actually a divergent timeline, if it really were the case Eren and Mikasa would run off together if she had confessed her feelings, there would be no way for Eren to convince his father to give him the Attack and Founding.  Therefore, they wouldn’t have even been in the outside world to run away to, Eren wouldn’t die of the titan curse, which is what happens in Mikasa’s ideal world.

It seems that he needs Paths specifically to communicate with Grisha.  It’s even possible he needs direct contact with royal blood to even see the memories, or else it was needed to trigger that ability for him to now do so more freely later.

Therefore, in this case, we can assume the butterfly effect is either debunked or functions differently than a domino reaction.

Paths exist in parallels – Mikasa’s Ideal is an alternative reality

We have confirmation from the storyboard of the chapter that this was meant to be Mikasa’s “ideal (world).”  Had she confessed her feelings to Eren, she would have suggested running away the night before Eren leaves his friends so that they can live Eren’s last 4 years in peace.  Obviously with the watering down of the Butterfly Effect, we see that it is impossible for this to happen, at least in the main timeline.  

Mikasa experiences a migraine when faced with the reality that Eren has to die in order to kill the “Founding Titan.”  She’s been experiencing these unexplainable headaches throughout the series during certain critical points of the plot that she personally experiences.  We can assume Eren has been lying about the Ackerman abilities in order to push Mikasa away from him, so that she would have less hesitation when she ultimately has to face him.  We don’t see Levi having these migraines when his own “host” Erwin cannot be protected from death.  Even Kenny doesn’t seem to experience or note these headaches when Uri is dying.  The only thing that is mentioned is the awakening power and inability to have their memories wiped or manipulated.

That said, it doesn’t seem to apply to Ackermans actually experiencing what the Founder can show them.  In this case, the theory of an alternate reality would be plausible if one with the Founder can access those other realities.  If Mikasa did experience another reality, it is because Eren who “controls” (or rather is lent power by) Ymir is able to bring her there. This would mean that timelines exist in parallel to each other and there are multiple alternative universes and realities, ones with Titans and ones without.  The headaches may be a result of a resistance that is likely due to showing Mikasa these realities during specific moments, ones with situations that align with other realities but aren’t explicitly converging at any point and her Ackerman blood trying to block that process from happening- with Ymir and Eren together, they are able to breakthrough that barrier.

Now you can interpret that Eren’s reason for bringing her there is to assure her that there is a reality where she suggests running away together and that she experiences that life with the assurance that she will stay with Eren as long as he lives.  She knows that this isn’t her own reality: “I think I shouldn’t be here.” Eren likely also brings her here to show that even with their peaceful life that the conflict still exists and that she still cannot save him.  After he dies, he wants her to detach herself from him, forget the memories, and to be free.

Whatever the reason, we can assume that the “cottage” Mikasa and Eren aren’t the main timeline Mikasa and Eren.  It wouldn’t make sense for the history and it wouldn’t align with their motivations throughout the story.  While the timeline of events up to that point are similar if not exact, their behaviors aren’t quite the ones we have been following.

I’ll explain further but in short to believe the above in genuine runs a high risk of presenting as “character assassination.”  In other words, “out of character.”  (Sorta)

Keeping this in mind, this potentially means that these “path” visits have been foreshadowed and even acted upon by Eren before this moment.  First off, we know that Eren foresaw the future of the Rumbling and “that sight” when touching Historia’s hand.  We also know he sees other moments in between via these future memories.  He is only limited in seeing the actual chain of events that gets to that point.

For years before he concedes to this future, he is adamant about finding literally any other solution that will not result in the Full Scale Rumbling.  When Kiyomi brings up even threatening the world with the Rumbling on top of sacrificing Historia, he rejects that offer, suggesting that they should consider other options.  When Hange says that Hizuru cannot  aid in getting other allies to help them, Eren is distraught by the failure of another plan.  However, he accepts going to Marley to survey the nation to seek opportunities for peaceful conversation.  Before their departure, Eren discusses the potential destruction of Paradis with Historia, saying that their options are to fight or run away- Historia, however, accepts the duties given to her.  Eren knows this option is unacceptable and with that nature he must go forth with Hange’s plan or commit the Rumbling (though of course he knows the latter is the future).  It’s the rescue of the little boy Ramzi that gives Eren the realization that the events are exactly how he saw them when receiving the future memories.  He actually considers leaving the boy behind to change that fate, but his nature, just like how he can’t accept the fate of Paradis to be destroyed, causes him to protect the boy.  Eren realizes that the future cannot be changed- because of fate and because of his nature.

He asks Mikasa the big question and receives her final answer.  This seems far fetched but when his friends arrive to interrupt the moment he says with disappointment that it was “perfect timing.”  Of course, this could also indicate the frustration of having this conversation interrupted with Mikasa, or that he no longer wanted to hear an elaboration because he didn’t expect anything to change, but with the future sight theory he could have foreseen his friends showing up at that precise moment; there isn’t a lot of evidence to say one way or another, but it’s worth considering since even Mikasa is confused when he says this, meaning that there is supposed to be focus on why he says this.  During the conference that proposes Eldian rights, after attendees and speakers insist that the real issue are the Paradisians and they should be ridden of, Eren leaves, now convinced that this is the path he has to take.  All other options are lost despite his begging, and he is sure there is no other way.

Everything seems to go just like Eren plans, including the time to meet up with Zeke; the only obstacle that he hadn’t foreseen was Reiner bringing reinforcements early.  Either these are events leading up to the same future that he did not see, or this is a different Path he exists on.

We see that he convinces Grisha to slaughter the Reiss family in order to get the Founding Titan when Zeke takes them on a “memory lane” trip.  With showing Grisha selective memories, his father decides to hand the titans to Eren just as he did in the “alpha” timeline.  He tells Zeke that he was able to “get to this point” thanks to Zeke, so now he is on the proper path.  Now the events are aligned where he does “see that sight” by contacting Ymir directly and activating the Rumbling.

How did he get to that path though?  Where does it start?  Is there a beginning at all?  Well, either Zeke had led them to a parallel path that was similar enough to show identical memories so to convince Eren that Grisha was brainwashing him—or Eren took advantage of a distracted Zeke to “path jump.”  It’s interesting that Zeke is the one leading them up until the end of the chapter when Eren is the one now pushing Zeke to get to the next memory.  The events up until Grisha gets to the Reiss Cave during the titan invasion occur according to the main timeline.  

At this point, Eren is aware that the future of this timeline is viable, one that he is most “like himself” because his behavior is consistent with his beliefs.  He was always fated to be this way, he always knew that he would never abandon Paradis so long as they were at risk.  He would never allow his friends to suffer that fate.  There was never a future for him to run away and live in the mountains living the rest of his life in isolation with Mikasa.  His very nature would never allow him to.

It is also possible that this foresight didn’t always come with the goal of flattening the entire earth- he would have foreseen the Rumbling not complete, he only ever mentions starting it and “that sight,” points in the manga that we have already seen.  He had the opportunity to prevent his friends from fighting by wiping their memories (save the Ackermans, but even they are just two people), but chose not to due to his ideologies, which he carried since he was a child.  In fact, he goads his friends to kill him.  He knows this is a future he is fated to have.  He expects Mikasa to kill him.  Expects that he must convince her to let go of her hesitation and end his life.  “You should let go of me.”  Why invade that path to tell her this if his goals are to destroy the world, unless he truly expects to stop her and the rest?  How could he foresee “see you later Eren” though as an end to his life?

This might be the answer to destroying the true Founding Titan since it now exists in their physical world as he acts as a vessel.  This might be the solution to eradicate the titans- “destroy this world.”  Disconnect Paths.  Stop the indefinite fate where he and his home perish by erasing the existence of Titans altogether.  Break fate.

It was (mostly) just a dream

The second running theory is that Mikasa really does just experience the moment of “going back to their home” as a dream.  We know she gets headaches at critical moments where she runs the risk of losing someone close to her—and this isn’t isolated to just Eren.  This happens when Carla dies and Armin is on the brink of death.  The dream ultimately is a coping mechanism, wishing for an ideal world where she can live with Eren in peace and isolation, instead of facing the inevitability that Eren must die.

Also the chapter’s title is “A Long Dream.”

Now I’m not claiming that Mikasa is suffering a delusion, because she is very much aware that this “reality” or “dream” isn’t real- just because she is lucid does not mean she thinks this a world that exists for her.  She’s very aware that this ideal world of hers is impossible and was never possible to begin with.  Her dream is a confrontation of the reality that even with an innocent Eren who just wants a peaceful life that it is not aligned with the nature she has watched develop.  As much as she wants to cling onto an innocent and idealized image of her loved one, she knows this isn’t who he is.  This isn’t who they are.

She knows that the world they live in is still with conflict- Eren reminds her of that.  She apologizes for bringing it up because that realization that they left to live in peace and potentially leave their homeland exposed with no alternative solution, simply giving in to the circumstances, is not who either of them are, and to hold onto that image of Eren is merely fabrication.  The entire dream functions as a metaphor.  But in every world, Eren will die, be in by her hands or the titan curse.

[This is alluded to in Lost Girls, another “alternative reality” story.]

It is only disrupted when Eren tells Mikasa to throw the scarf and forget about him because she deserves to be free.  He wears the titan markings of his Founding Titan.  At this point it’s implied that Eren is communicating through Pathways that connect to her dreams.  Remember, dreams (and nightmares) are a very prevalent subject brought up in the series alongside memories- it is possible that the Founder can infiltrate dreams to communicate much like it can bring Eldians to the Path realm.  Mikasa cannot be controlled because she is an Ackerman, but this doesn’t omit the possibility that she can still see differences in her dreams (or reality) if interfered by the Founding Titan.  Ymir allows this open line of communication with the knowledge Eren is convincing Mikasa to kill him.  To simmer down the emotional turmoil, he says that she must forget about him.  Of course, because Mikasa cannot be manipulated, she decides that while she must kill him, that his death is inevitable, she will not forget him.  And he will not die without her expressing her feelings.  That is her own willpower.

At this point, the dream is “shared” between the two because Eren is an active spectator.  When Mikasa says her final goodbye, her “see you later,” it isn’t the same dream as what it started as.  Which is why he is able to remember it in the first chapter.

Now, I say mostly a dream because it is possible that dreams themselves could create alternative realities if they haven’t existed before.  But even if that wasn’t the case, Eren still alludes to path jumping, so the series of events could have still led him to a path that would be able to infiltrate Mikasa’s coping dream, knowing that she would struggle to end his life, but that she needs to see him again and be assured that he wants her to move on with her life, and not to see this as a failure on her part- that her answer really would not have mattered so she should not regret her choices.  She is the one that has to kill him to get to this point.  He expects to die, he doesn’t stop her when she gets in the titan, he seems resigned to that fate.

The dream theory is shorter but I’m inclined to believe that is what really happened with perhaps some mixture of the “alternate realities” theory for the sake of the plot solving the issue of titans, as well as reverting the rest of the cast from their Pure Titan fate.  Getting rid of Paths (the Founding Titan and Eren) is a viable solution to both rid of the nightmare as well as give Ymir and Eren a new life without being enslaved by fate.  But that’s a big elaborate and perhaps too complex theory.  I’m only making sense of how the final chapter may wrap up.

Alternative Selves: Fabrication to Cope aka “Mikasa and Eren would not run away”

Regardless of either theory, we must come to the conclusion that the Mikasa and Eren in her dream, her ideal world, whatever it may really be, are not their main story selves.  In fact it is impossible both because it would break the timeline and because it would not align with their true selves, the ones we’ve been following along throughout the story.  It makes more sense for Mikasa to cope with this ideal of hers, but the moment she enters that vision, she knows that this is fake and that this Eren is an idealized version she created (or exists elsewhere and time).  To believe otherwise is not understanding who these characters truly are at their core.

Regardless of Eren’s feelings towards her, be it romantic, platonic, familial, his very nature, as he states himself, would never allow him to “not make a decision.”  He would never abandon the others he claims to love, the ones he wants them to live long lives, to wander in the dark without at least a warning of the impending doom ahead of them.  He gave his friends the freedom to fight.  He fights for the freedom of Eldia, protecting Paradis.  He could never accept a fate that would allow the massacre of his people, even if he must commit omnicide to prevent it.  Remember, this is the boy who saved a girl he never knew because her freedom was stolen.  This is the boy that defends his weak friend because he values how the other boy’s mind opens to doors to freedom- the boy that gave him the knowledge of the outside world that fueled his ambition to break down the case in the first place.  He doesn’t want to live a mundane life.  Especially not if his oppressed people are in danger.  This is the guy who has a superior officer who calls him a monster that will not submit to any cage anyone puts him in- he has the fire in his eyes to keep moving forward, to persevere against all odds. 

This is the man that would lay down his own life if it meant Paradis would be saved.  He would simply never choose the option to run away from that, not even dream about it.  

He knew he wanted to see that sight.  He was shown that image.  That is his ideal world.  His vision, his dream.  Which means he must fight and move forward.  Find a way to save his loved ones so they live long happy lives.

And, honestly, it’s inaccurate to call Mikasa selfish for her ideal life because while she would want to live alone with Eren by her side, when being reminded of the carnage that will take place and that they are not there to help, she submits that it is something neither of them could accept.  She might want to run away to have a peaceful life, but not with the knowledge there are consequences for doing so.  That there are people she would leave behind.  She wouldn’t leave them to that fate.  Her actions to stop Eren is evidence of that.

As much as she loves Eren, she has devotion to her homeland and her friends, too.  To run away would be uncharacteristic.  This is the girl who decided to fight when the boy who saved her was in danger.  This is the girl that chose to keep fighting even when her closest family, the one she loved, was “killed.”  She is the girl who threw the knife away and promised that she would never leave her friend behind.  She stays to fight for her home, Paradis, because it is her birthplace, she belongs here- she wouldn’t run if her home is in danger.

Which is why, to assume they are the real Mikasa and Eren in Mikasa’s “ideal world”, is utterly and completely misread.  That is not nor ever what their characters would lead to.  The idea of running away would be barely a flicker of a thought at most, but even then, it is uncharacteristic to act.  Unreal.  Just like their artificial selves in that “dream.”

It isn’t like Isayama didn’t allude to Mikasa and Eren separating.  He does so for Armin when they have clashing views on the world and their own selves- Armin being more “worldly” and explorative and Eren being more “self-focused” and personally ambitious.  Mikasa would sympathize more with Armin’s point of view, but her desire is to be by Eren’s side.

Isayama gives his opinion on Mikasa’s determination to be stuck to Eren the entire time.  It is a “pitiful” existence.  She is willing to even shoulder his burdens just so he could come home, that perhaps his emotional distress is the reason he is causing mass destruction.  She is desperate for this.  That is… not exactly productive of her character, or the plot.

However, he clarifies that this is his view on Mikasa’s course of direction.  Her ideal is to be with Eren forever.  It may not necessarily be entirely positive that she leaves him behind since deviation from that ideal isn’t guaranteed growth.  Isayama has a habit of allowing his readers to experience his work with their own interpretations.  Just because he believes Mikasa’s existence with Eren at a constant is unfavorable, everyone will see it that way.  Perhaps it is a good thing that she has a goal to work towards and that it is the fuel to her fighting spirit.  That her desiring a peaceful life with Eren is a good motivator.  Or alternatively, her fixation on Eren would lead her into more dangerous situations that would risk her life, it has her see an unreal version of him, unable to accept his fated death that she is willing to sacrifice everything, even if it means shouldering the burdens he carries, if it means he lives.

The message is clear, however, that whether you, the reader, sees that as wholly positive or negative, or a mixture of both, the intention is that she must let him go.  She must accept his death.  Because if she is to keep her home, a semblance of peace and closure, save her friends- this is how it must end.  There is a beautiful nuance, however, that Mikasa is given the opportunity to forget so that she can avoid the suffering and be free, but she chooses not to- just as she decides when Eren is first taken from her.  When she initially thought he died, she decided to keep fighting to honor his spirit and memory.  She never wants to forget him.  Even if he will die in every reality they share together, the worst thing in the world is an existence without even the memory of him.

This is why she is able to get that closure.  She expresses her feelings and says her final goodbye, in this world anyway.  “See you later” because she will still have the ideal dream knowing that while it isn’t real, it can never be real, not for her, but his memory will live on with her.  And she can carry that memory without sacrificing her agency, her home, her friends, her love.  That is what she is meant to do.

Anyway, I wrote this mostly to observe the function of Paths and what Mikasa’s dream infers is possible, and an opening to a solution, as well as her decision to end Eren’s life.  The dream speaks loudly of Mikasa and Eren as characters because it shows us what they are not.  It emphasizes the characters that we have been following since the beginning are raw and motivated, destined to live their lives fighting and protecting and moving onward, never surrendering.  And to insist otherwise would be a disservice to how they’ve been built up to after all this time.

....

[Once again: Despite the language in this, the manga has always been a work to be wildly interpreted in a multitude of ways, I just speak passionately about why I think certain interpretations don’t make since to my own. But nothing is indefinite. The material is flexible. See it how you wish.]

[mochikeiji]

Rockabye, My Love

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning: slight fluff, soft father/daughter moments, angst. Trigger Warning: mentions of death, depression.

↬ Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Every lyrics had a deeper meaning in them than just words that'll fit a song. Yours was heavier than anyone could think of, and Akaashi was singing it to his beloved baby girl.

↣ a/n: ohayo world! I'm sorry for late posts, expect the upcoming ones soon. School was giving too much works again. Thank you all for loving my Day 2 fic in Akaashi Week!! Also, the lullaby in this lyrics is the same tune as Isabella's Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.

⇢ Day 3: Single Parent AU

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine.

You are the most precious thing I have loved.

I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more.

I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you.

You are the most beautiful thing that has came.

I will protect you forever, my love."

Life is difficult in many ways. It's either we were born different, have lost someone dear or have lost ourselves. It's no wonder how millions of people from all around the world, evert second, minute, hour— someone gives up on everything. It was cruel, disturbing, most of all heart breaking.

Akaashi never understood your true intentions. He was one hundred percent sure he had kept an eye on you at all cost. He's made you smile brighter, he's understood you more than anyone. He made you feel alive.

Yet now you ended up being dead to your own inner demons.

He remembers coming home after receiving good news from his company. He had received a promotion and a week off just for you. That was when the hospital had contacted him. He can recall his ragged breathing when he was allowed to place a foot in your room. Your monitor beating in an ever agonizingly slow rhythm, he knew it wasn't normal and immediately ran to your side.

He wanted to yell, scream, ask you why, why did you do this to yourself but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so scared and weak. The doctors had told him that he had only a few minutes with his wife, the drugs you've intake was too much, not everything was removed nor pumped out of your system. Akaashi never felt so depressed in all his life after that situation as he buried himself into your chest, listening to your lullabies that soon died down along with the light in your eyes.

That was the only reminisces he's had with you,the lullaby you would sing to yourself as a teen who strived to survive the world, a lullaby for his anxieties and own demons to be tamed, and the last thing you ever said. He was happy that over the years before your death, you had given him a customized music box that had the right notes of your song, only this time no one was singing it.

Fingers tapping anxiously on his work table, Akaashi started to fiddle with his thumb and then his index, losing his focus despite looking at the same drafted page lit up on his computer screen. He kept eyeing the pack of cigarettes that was just on the edge of his window— he needed one right now. Cigarettes were the last options he has for when he couldn't calm his beating heart or let his emotions out. But he knows how wrong it was to be damaging his health, and he knows he's going to get an earful from Bokuto since he visits his apartment every weekend. Even if Akaashi tries to hide his dirty deeds, Bokuto wasn't stupid to read through his eyes like before.

Foot was starting to bounce, his eyebrows were beginning to furrow, as if he was irritated, in trouble, or something. It wss getting harder for him, who wouldn't after losing their wife? The person he's loved since his teen years, the one he's vowed to never make her feel like how she did in the past. He failed you. He blames himself for all that matter, if he's added more precautions, maybe you'd still be here.

He bites his lips and whimpers, hands ruffling through his tossled hair and holding his head as his elbows were supporting him on the table. Everything was closing in once more, the walls to his workspace became suffocating, how he wishes one of his friends or yours would come knocking at his door even though it was already 2:30 am knowing how reckless he's getting. He swore he wasn't going to die sooner as you did. He promised to himself to let you and his memories live on, because once he dies, no one will ever remember the battles you've fought for, the good things you've done to many, and the love you've shared with him throughout the years.

"It's so hard without you, love.."

Eyes finally cracking with tears behind his glasses, he lets them stream down his face with his body shaking on his chair. Soon enough he was bound to get another headache from extreme emotion and will probably lay the whole day about it. But none of that mattered to him anymore.

He just wanted you back.

But his cries weren't the only ones that can be heard in his apartment.

Jolting up to realization, he carelessly wipes away his tears with his sleeves and tumbles our of his chair straight to his room. His heart was beating fast in worry and adrenaline, he thought the source of the crying in his room had been taken away or worse.

But it turns out, it was just his little baby girl crying in lonliness.

As he got closer, her cries were getting deafening, but he didn't mind. Not when his heart was swooning with guilt when he thought of giving up and caving to his own needs when he's forgotten he has a reason to continue on.

With the night lamp on at the side of her crib and his bed, he cooes at the sobbing baby with sweet nothings to catch her attention. Th cries immediately died down and replaced with sniffles and the baby looking up hazily at the dark figure above her.

Smiling, Akaashi carefully picks her up from the crib to cradle her on his chest. Giving her small pats on her back with hush whispers when he feels her stretch on his body.

"Shhh, I'm sorry, were you lonely?"

Grabbing on the string of his lamp shade on the nightstand, he pulls the string, allowing more light to glow in his room, and for his little girl to finally see that she wasn't alone anymore. Akaashi swayed gently as he remained in eye contact with the baby, smiling ever so slightly at the unreadable expression his daughter was possessing and played with her fingers.

"Maybe I should work with you around, you never really like it in the dark, do you, baby?"

His little girl cooes at him, curious of what language he was speaking to her and hopes he understood what she was saying as well. Akaashi's heart swelled at the adorable sound and nuzzled his face softly on her stomach, the baby still confused as ever but just clenches her hands in wonder.

His anxieties and thoughts disappearing in the air whilst he sat down on his bed and held his baby near to where his hesrt was beating. The same day you died, was the same day you had given birth. It was a miracle for the baby to be healthy despite what you had intake. He remembers after your announced death, the nurses had to usher him out, but only to drag him into another room where lies a bassinet and a couple of IV's attached and treatments.

When he got closer, his world was shaken that day. The sight of you and his baby alive and now existing after 9 months of waiting was there right before his eyes. But his heart broke at the thought of him being the only one to raise her, and her not having to meet her beloved mother. He was so emotional that day that he almost lost it when he realizes why she was kept in there and why there were so much stuff in this room. He didn't want to think thag he was losing another one when he had just met her.

The nurses explained that there was nothing wrong with the baby, just taking further check ups and to ensure she was absolutely healthy. He was already been forced outside your room that no longer held light, he wasn't going to leave the room where his daughter was until he holds her in his arms where he knows she'll be at the safest.

As time went by to now, Akaashi feared her growing up in the future. She resembled mostly to you. She was a dead carbon copy of you and he was terrified she'd experience what you have as history might repeat itself. The very thought of his daughter having something inside her little head without telling him scares him, Akaashi knew how cruel the world can be and hoe each second in life matters because we are unaware of the deaths happening at those time.

He prayed his baby girl wouldn't go through what you did as a child and carry it until she grows up. He hopes and believed in his own strength that he wasn't going to fail her this time— that there will be no person by her side and will lovd and protect her other than her daddy.

His tears blocking his vision of her as he held her tightly. He whimpers at remembering his thoughts earlier. He wanted to curse himself from thinking of leaving his daughter to fend for herself in this world and to find a way to be back to you. But he knows he was still with you, your daughter was the last love you could ever give him and he was going to love her more than anything.

The trembling of his body stops when his baby started to cry and squirm in his hold. Her whimpers breaking his heart when he couldn't solve her distress, it seemed like she was in pain and he knew this situation like in the past.

"Shh, shh, I'm here. I'm always here. I'm sorry."

Reciting out the same line he's used when he held you against his body that night. You cried and held a hand to your heart that day as he hugged you tighter. The demons inside you he had curse to go away and leave you alone. But they didn't.

An idea popped in his head and reached out inside his nightstand drawer. The little music box you have crafted for him still looked the same as it was before since it was taken with good care. He proceeded to wind it gently to let the soft tune play as he stood up once more to cradle his crying baby.

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine."

He sings the first verse of the long memorized lullaby you sang for him. Using his thumb to wipe away the little tears that had escaped his daughters eyes. Her cries were stopped momentarily and were replaced by sniffles. Her dazed eyes making eye contact with her father's.

"You are the most precious thing I have loved."

Akaashi would be cringing thinking his voice was terrible, but the little girl in his arms seemed to be intrigued and loving the harmonized voice of her daddy and an unknown tune from the background.

His voice was smooth and soft. Completely out of character from his monotone one, but enough to capture the attention of someone.

"I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more."

He couldn't tell if he was singing the lullaby to her or he was making a silent vow to her. The lullaby you sang to him for the first time he tried searching for in the internet what the lyrics meant and who wrote it. Sadly, there were no results that came up that day.

And you never really told him how you got that song and who it was referring to in the lyrics.

But nevertheless, the lyrics could never be at the right time as it was now. It felt like he was reminding himself of what his role was from now on and what his daughter should always remember as she grows up.

No one was going to hurt her on her watch.

"I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you."

At the end of that line his voice cracks as he held back his own tears. He can hear only now your voice and hoe you would thread his hair during nights of distress. How he missed so many cracks of your voice from being too intrigued with the song. How he missed the fact that you needed him the most those nights of terror, yet you chose to make him feel secure and loved without leaving anything for yourself.

Slowly, his mind was connecting all the lyrics and your actions in his head. You were a self reliant person.

You sang this song in reminder that you were loved, beautiful and was protected by the few people that truly loved you. This song was meant to keep you alive.

To keep him going.

And now

It was a vow from him to his daughter.

"You are the most beautiful thing that has came."

Smiling sadly down to his baby now calmed down and listening intently to her daddy, Akaashi leans down to press kisses on her face with his tears sliding down.

He should've sang this to you when you needed it the most. A reminder of what you truly were to him. He hopes deep inside, somewhere up there or in his room you were listening. Listening to him remind you and his daughter— his world and universe, that he was going to be stronger and fulfill his own promises.

One day he was going to meet you in another life he believed, where he'd make you stay, where you and him will raise your little girl once again and he'll wake up next to you. Where he'll be the one singing this lullaby tune as he hold you both in his arms.

But for now, it was just going to be him and his baby girl.

"I will, protect you. Forever, my love."

[it-sy-bit-sy]

The ending of Attack on Titan: a shallow analysis

(I don't think I should have to put a spoilers alert on a blog about the ENDING OF AOT, but in general if you mind being spoiled on a series, I advise you to refrain from attending discussions about the body of work until you've finished it in its entirety/come up to speed on the current chapter/episode. Screw hype dude, do you like being hurt? Also for the TLDR, it’s that Attack on Titan explores the cycle of hatred (Eren’s journey) AND love which is why Mikasa and Ymir become relevant at the end of the story.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PREFACE

Since the newly added panels of AOT’s ending have been likened by some to the ending of Naruto, I'd like to say that Naruto's end truly hurt me; the way it flows into Boruto is so contrived it burns. A story that's always centered around powerful ninja bloodlines fighting political wars suddenly introduced aliens that harvest planets for energy as the super antagonist, and additionally they're the source of all our characters' powers as well as the jinchuriki and tailed beasts themselves. Then when you look at the plot of Boruto which heavily relies on the Otsutsuki clan as an antagonistic force, their whole existence feels like the transition from Dragon Ball straight into the first DBZ arc with Goku learning he’s really part of an alien race that was meant to destroy Earth.

I didn't detect so forced a role in the ending of AOT, but it's absolutely plausible to speculate that the alternate ending was influenced for this reason, as we know Attack on Titan wasn't produced through Isayama's involvement alone. Certain compromises are made when operating as a team, though it would be wonderful if the original intent of authors were more absolute in the world of production than they are known to be.

And as much as I don't enjoy half-hearted continuations of series for a royalty check, I ALMOST can't blame them for doing it...it creates (many) happy fans, more jobs, and Isayama gets his royalty check. The rest of us suffer but hey, artists need money I guess... 🥀 Moving on. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#1. Eren's development as a character

I never saw Eren's goal steered in the direction of breaking the cycle of revenge or hatred. He was acting wholly in his own interests. He's intensely selfish, doesn't want to change his views, and exists in the story to further the cycle itself. According to me, Chapters 129 and 131 perfectly explain his motivations for the rumbling.

Now before I go on, I'd like to bring a particular scene to mind. I do remember him saying this once (to Historia who had just told him killing the rest of the world is unjustifiable and wrong):

Yes, he said that, but I don't think that is what he ever intended the rumbling to be used for.

After he stated that 80% of humanity was wiped out so Paradis will be safe for the time being, he neglected to answer Armin's questions in 139: "Did you really need to go that far? Are you sure you did all of this for our sakes?" We may also consider the thoughts he chose NOT to share in chapter 131:

That combined with this excerpt from 129 is pretty much all there is to Eren's convictions.

Those are the same words he said in Chapter 2 after his mother died.

So despite his brief period of self-loathing when considering 1) the countless lives in survey corps sacrificed for his sake, 2) being confronted with his and his father's involvement in the Reiss family, 3) everything he learned about his enemy--that all titans are formerly human, that the titan shifters were just children deceived by their world--he even admits to Reiner during Tyburn's speech (Chapter 100) that they are indeed in the same boat--and on top of that, admitting that the rumbling will do nothing to fix the course of history, he settled with the same conviction he held the moment he decided to do something to change the world.

Again, here's his words from 139 showing us just how angry a boi Eren was.

This was Eren Jaeger...he didn't even really know what he was doing.

As a human being, Eren was very much in the cycle of revenge as much as everyone else was. His course of action never deviated too far from that path. He knew better, but he lashed out at the world to protect the few people he cared about anyway. He took freedom away from the ones who threatened him. He was a mass murderer, and so were the other soldiers in this series fighting for their own reasons, since titans were people. Survey corps were always slaughtering these people whom they saw as monsters. Marley viewed Eldians as monstrously and with as much hatred as Eldians viewed the titans. Eren did not try to justify his actions to everyone. He simply stopped seeing the value of life in others not important to him, as humans often do.

So what did he sacrifice 80% of humanity for? From 129 again:

Them meaning his immediate friends.

No, he didn't care about their children's children and beyond because there's no way to control what happens when you're gone from this world. It wasn't his problem. Eren had 4 years at most left to live, and he wanted to do what he could to ensure his friends were happy before he left.

And as jarring as it was to see Eren become undone in the last chapter, I didn't find it completely out of character, because for one he was talking to his closest friend moments before his own death, and secondly, Eren was just a stupid human like the rest of the people in this series. Obviously, most people just want a normal life that they can spend with people whom they love. Eren was the same way, but was denied that future (and happened to be able to do something about it). Very selfish goals, but those chosen few were his world. Along with a general distaste for humanity, that's how I understand his character motivations.

*Which is to say in relation to the extra pages, Ymir's curse returning a generation or two after the events of AOT doesn't entirely void his actions. I’m assuming the power of Ymir apparently exists as a force of nature on this version of Earth period, so I suppose this points us to an endless cycle of humans eventually finding the power and using it as they see fit *

#2 Why is Romance Relevant to Attack on Titan?

I wasn't expecting a romance factor to be relevant at the end of the story, however considering that Mikasa's affection for Eren WAS her most prominent personality trait as a character, then the events that followed, I was forced to look back to a few moments in the series that could lend light to why, in the end, a romantic subplot ended the curse of Ymir. My conclusions are as follows:

1. Quite literally, the cycle of hatred never ends. Humans will always have a reason to be unkind to one another. We are animals after all; this trait cannot be reasoned through with logic, bred out, or defeated. We are a self-aware species (Eren's even aware of his own hypocrisy in Chapter 131). There will always arise those who take what they want for themselves because they decide in the end they don't care about others as much as they care about their own interests.

2. To make this second point, I'm stealing these words out of a certain machine lifeform's mouth, but bear with me here:

"But the humans...? Now THEY are interesting. Because they are an enigma! They killed uncountable numbers of their own kind, yet loved in equal measure! It's fascinating, don't you think? What could possibly drive such behavior? We have dedicated ourselves to unraveling this riddle of humanity..."

--Adam from NieR:Automata

AOT uses Eren and Mikasa as a case study of humanity. Humans hate and love in equal measure.

In Ch. 129, Zeke's piece here foreshadows the significance of those two for the story, I guess?

Now everyone reading this series as well as the characters in it had noticed how much fondness Mikasa always had for Eren, and how aloof he always was towards her in return...that's something for them to work out.

Despite never really reciprocating Mikasa's feelings, Eren told Armin at the end of the series that yes, he enjoyed receiving her attention; he would have liked to live a happy life with her. So, Mikasa just liked Eren, Eren liked her... And similar to Mikasa, Ymir just liked King Fritz. It doesn't matter whether we think these feelings were sound or not; they did what they wanted with themselves. I suppose that explains the reason she was a mega simp for Eren in the whole story. Yes, this turn in the story reads like a different plot now, not one about war and killing monsters, but I'm pleasantly surprised that this trait taken as a flaw of Mikasa’s actually served as a necessary condition to end the conflict of the titans.

Eren wouldn't let go of his hatred of the world for his own satisfaction, Ymir wouldn't let go of her love of King Fritz for her own satisfaction, and Mikasa is the only one who decided to let go of her convictions in the interest of someone other than herself. That's what moved the curse.

I think Isayama used the characters of Ymir and Mikasa to demonstrate that while there is a cycle of hatred and revenge running rampant in humanity, the cycle of love doesn't stop either.

In closing, and I truly apologize for such a lengthy post; I hope I didn’t reiterate my point too often here...I didn't think about any of this until I heard so many readers upset with the way AOT ended. I'm not personally left with any disappointment in where the story went. I didn't know where it was going to go in the first place, and I think it could have been much worse for us in different hands. 

*shrugs*

AOT is a story about the nature of humanity.

*And in regards to Jean, if that is supposed to be him with Mikasa in the new panels, all I can say is dude likes his girl. He was a simp for her and she was a simp for Eren, but the fact that they shared their lives together means a lot even if Eren was never completely buried in her heart. He meant a lot to her man, idk...

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Heroes or Victims

Summary:  

"As Hange stared down at the man whom she believed was very much deserving of the title “hero,” she was reminded that he was just as much a victim as everyone else."

Hange reflects on emotions, relationships, war philosophies, and a future while taking care of a severely injured Levi.

Written for @levihanweek, Angstober 2020. Prompt: trapped/escape

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: Here is my offering for LeviHan Week, Angstober 2020. Prompt: trapped/escape. I went a little overboard with the word count. Either way, I hope you enjoy. ;)

Credits to my betareader @scribusdomina

Any soldier who died in the field was presented as a hero of the walls. The stories told within the walls evoked images of violent charges, loud and emotional screams for their motherland and quick deaths.

Those soldiers were brave, honorable, and patriotic.

There is no better way to die than falling off one's horse battered and bloody, dreaming of the motherland.

It was a terrifyingly effective piece of propaganda that the lower class within the walls of Paradis welcomed with open arms and consumed too quickly. People saw the garrison and military police as equals to the brave soldiers who die a quick death in the battlefield, their moment of honor yet to come. Ironically, the survey corps members who actually died quickly in the battlefield were rarely afforded that same respect.

For that reason, and for many other reasons, those who survived past what could have been their first death and eventually became the veterans of the corps, ended up completely rejecting this train of thought.

As the numbers of the survey corps members dwindled, the war against titans morphed into a war of attrition. The survey corps did not have the hundreds of people to spare and those within the survey corps at Hange's command were trained to hide in enclosed spaces to preserve themselves until the enemy tires out. A war that starts with a brave charge ends with quick deaths and a quick end to the war, giving no time for the soldiers to ponder the losses and their purpose in the grand scheme of things.

The shift towards preserving life gave birth to a new type of thinker --- the battle hardened soldier. Levi and Hange having survived the longest through the bloodiest wars with the most cruel bouts of survivor's guilt, were at the forefront of this paradigm shift.

Every single person who died out there for the crown and for the people who lived within the walls were more victims than heroes.

Those words in particular rang louder to Hange as she stared down at the man whom she believed was very much deserving of the title “hero”. At that moment though, as he lay injured and vulnerable, with the beginnings of a fever, Hange was reminded that he was just as much a victim as everyone else.

Levi had always been trapped. He grew up in the underground city under Wall Sina, forced into a life of crime and violence just to survive. From what she remembered, he did not join the survey corps out of his own volition either.

Hange brushed Levi's bangs out of his face and reapplied the wet cloth on his forehead.

She shuddered as she listened to Levi's soft whimpers. His face was a mess. She guessed he had a few broken ribs, probably some internal bleeding. He needed to get to a doctor and even if he did survive, he could be left with a permanent disability.

While the rich kid who disobeyed her parents and willingly joined the battle, just came out blind in one eye with a few bruises and scars. Hange let out a pained sigh as she thought of how unfair it all was. She had experienced enough comfort growing up and could have gladly taken some of that misfortune off his shoulders.

Levi's history was a stark contrast to hers. Hange had come from a comfortable background and despite her parent's protests, had committed to joining the survey corps out of sheer curiosity on what existed outside the walls. To her, military service was an escape, an escape from the safe, comfortable yet predictable future her parents had set out for her.

"Now that I think about it, I was free to do whatever I wanted. I had the choice to live within Wall Sina, the choice to defy my parents and join the survey corps. So I shouldn't be regretting anything…" Hange lightly tapped her eyepatch. The pain had completely faded and as she put pressure on it, the only thing she felt was the phantom pain from the memory of the explosion and glass flying into her eye.

She looked back to the sleeping Levi, trying to gauge how much pain he must be in, given the gravity of his injuries. She ended up laughing at her own naivete. She had experienced her fair share of injuries. They were all painful yet none of them really evolved into a full blown hospital stay or an injury leave.

Back then, an explosion like that would definitely have put him on injury leave for at least a month.

As Hange reminisced on their old expeditions outside the walls, she gave a sardonic laugh. "Worst timing eh? Can't even take you to a hospital for decent healthcare. We have a war to fight and you're stuck in bed."

"No… time… for care. We need… to fight...”

Hange instinctively looked down when she felt something warm on her fingers. She watched, amused as Levi tried to find the most natural way to wrap three fingers around her hand.  "I'll go to your other side so at least it's your good hand wrapping around mine."

"No… Just sit near...."

Hange scooched closer to his hand and Levi settled for putting his right hand on top of hers. Levi's hand twitched a few times, possibly in protest to his attempts to squeeze her hand. She grasped it lightly and felt the hand on top of hers relax as she took on his burden. Somehow, his face seemed to relax more.

Hange lay down beside him on the forest floor, careful not to jostle his injured hand as she held it. She rolled over to her side and studied his bandaged face once again.

Ever since Levi had become a captain of the survey corps, he was constantly moving, constantly thinking. The weight of everyone's expectations on humanity's strongest was a heavy burden to carry. She had seen him fall asleep multiple times in Erwin's office or more recently, in her room next to her. He usually slept for three hours a night, easily awoken by the slightest sound, but there, right next to her, he looked like he had fallen into a deep sleep.

"Why now? How are you able to fall asleep now?" Hange asked softly with no expectations for an answer. By then, Levi's breathing had already evened out and Hange instead kept herself occupied, by mimicking the slow and steady breaths of the man next to her.

Somehow, she managed to fall asleep,too.

                                         Heroes or Victims

Levi's fever only worsened.

He wasn't awake yet but Hange feared that he could be in pain.

Hange searched the forest for familiar plants. She was no botanist but she had studied enough to know what could be used to alleviate pain, stave off infections.

Whether she would be giving it in the right doses and processing it correctly was the better question. She had seen the people in the infirmary do that same method multiple times as she supervised the treatments of injured soldiers who contracted fevers from wound infections. She was hesitant at first to even attempt such treatment on Levi without training but she had seen how a high fever deteriorates into chills, slow breathing, then eventually death without the right treatment. She decided for herself that it was a gamble she had to take. Hange only hoped that she remembered everything accurately enough that she wouldn’t end up poisoning him.

As she waited for the leaves to steep, she turned her attention to Levi. The wet cloth she had placed on his forehead was heating up alarmingly fast and Hange found herself shaking as she  wiped down his body with cooler water.

She recalled her own experiences in an attempt to placate her fears.

When was the last time she had felt that much heat come out of someone?

Maybe during her days supervising the injured survey corps members in the infirmary?

Did they survive?  

Back then, they had the safe, sterile environment of the infirmary. There, at that moment, it was just both of them in the middle of a dark forest. Her own attempts only served to worsen her already growing fears. Despite the high fever, Levi was sleeping like a log.

"Why do you look so fucking peaceful?" Hange teared up. She would have preferred to see Levi in a fitful sleep. Pain meant he was still there. Hange had learned, having watched countless soldiers die in the infirmary, that when the breath of the patient slows and they start to feel cool and clammy, it means certain death. Also, a peaceful sleep introduced the possibility that he might never wake up.

Hange resisted the temptation to shake Levi awake, risking further injury. Instead, she settled for putting her hand on his good one and squeezing hard enough to feel something back. She focused on the fact that he was still hot to touch. It meant he was still very much alive.

"Don't you fucking die on me."

                                     Heroes or Victims

Hange needed someone to talk to but at the same time, she was relieved that it had just been the two of them.

The ordeal with Levi's fever shooting up had left her exhausted, her eyes red and her nose running. As the poultice she had put together that night did its work and the fever started to subside, Hange had to stop herself from giving the injured Levi a good kick for all the stress he had caused her that night.

Hange woke up as soon as she heard the rustle of cloth next to her.

He's starting to come around.  

It was early morning and Hange wanted to use that time before the sun's heat became unbearable to wash the sheets by the riverside. She carried Levi a few feet towards the river bank, rested him on a tree and covered him with his green cloak.

The sheets were stained with blood and sweat and Hange made a mental note to change his bandages after cleaning out the bed sheets. Watching the blood stains disappear as the sheets flapped in the water was somehow calming. It gave the young commander enough time to reflect on the events of the night before, her own emotions and the fact that she was still lacking sleep. As the last bouts of sleepiness left her, the pent up emotions of last night started to take over.

"Levi, you asshole!" She screamed as she angrily pulled the wet sheets toward her. The sheet flailed as it fought between both her strength and the river carrying it westward. She needed a break. Emotions had built up inside her the night before with no decent outlet as she concentrated all her energy on keeping Levi alive.

"You fucking asshole!" Hange pulled the sheet out and threw it down into the water again.

The cold water that splashed towards her face somehow helped her cool off. Hange let the sheets flow along with the river, only holding on to them with the tips of her fingers. "It was fucking terrifying. You had this fucking face last night. You looked so peaceful. Like you wanted to sleep forever. Do you not want to live anymore? Is your life so shitty that you decide for yourself that 'hey maybe dying might be the better?’”

At that point, Hange did not know how much of what she said she actually meant. He could have heard it. Maybe he didn't. Hange though allowed herself the luxury of releasing everything that was bundled up inside her to the one person who would have understood her either way.  

"Life was shit. The dreams were good,” His reply was toneless and too rooted in their bleak reality.

Hange looked back to see that Levi was staring at her. For a while she wondered how much of her tirade he had heard but as she pulled the sheets out of the river and walked towards Levi, she found herself more interested in what Levi had just said.  

"Do you feel trapped?" Hange hung the sheet on a low lying branch then crouched down beside Levi.

"Trapped?"

"In life I mean. Like in this hellhole. You looked so free last night. For a while, I thought I was the selfish one for trying to keep you alive."

“I don’t know…”

Hange had to admit. It would be a difficult question for someone especially while recovering from a brush with death. She silently scooched closer to him and looked up, using that clear sky above her as a blank slate to organize her thoughts. She could at least use that extra time to predict an answer like she usually did.

What did I know about him? Admittedly, the two of them did spend a lot of time together but given their line of work, there was always something to discuss. They never had the free time to sit around and just discuss each other's histories. Everything Hange ever knew about Levi, she learned through the bouts of information he volunteered about himself in between sharing thoughts on the latest developments. Hange had taken the liberty to fill in the gaps herself on his personality using empathy, deduction, and pattern recognition.

She was reminded then, that although she knew Levi's personality and could easily predict how he'd react to most situations, she only knew so much about what his life was like before they met.

"Then let me ask something else." Before she even noticed it, Hange had softened her tone. The desperation and anger of a while ago was gone as it looked like Levi was going to survive.

"Hm?"

"What did you dream about?"

                                     Heroes or Victims

The world is a cruel place. That was something both Levi and Hange had concluded a long time ago.

The stark contrast between Levi’s dreams and the reality they lived in only made Hange feel worse for even taking out her frustrations on him. They had both experienced hell but Levi’s life had always been hell. From what she understood, he had grown up in abject poverty. He had experienced the worst the world had to offer--- starvation, discrimination, abuse. He had lost everyone he had ever loved. Only recently, he had lost everything he had known and suddenly was placed in a position of responsibility, forced to keep thinking, to keep moving.

Hange reflected on all these as she cleaned out his wounds. She couldn’t help but notice that Levi had stiffened up, possibly an attempt to control whatever natural reaction his body would make to the pain of the herbal poultice spilling into his deeper wounds. His attempt to hide the pain only served to intensify Hange’s guilt.

“It’s painful, huh?” She bit back tears. “I’m sorry. I was selfish.I didn’t wanna be trapped here alone but yeah,  I still have family alive. You have nothing and here I am being entitled, getting mad at you for almost dying.”

“Hey,” Levi said. He weakly grasped Hange’s wrist while she cleaned his wounds. “I’m not trapped. I never was.”

“How can you still say that after all the shit life has thrown at you?” Hange asked as she wriggled out of his weak grip and gently laid his hand on his bare chest.

“I had my mom. Then when she died, I had Farlan, then Isabel, Erwin, then my squad…When I lost them, it hurt like a bitch, every single fucking time.” Levi suddenly looked away from Hange.

Hange could tell from the slight crack in his voice that he was blinking back tears. She put her hand on top of his and squeezed, hoping that was enough for him to realize that he did not need to stop himself from showing emotion.  

Levi did not give in to his emotions though. The only sign that he was even about to cry a few seconds ago was that his voice had gotten softer. “But when I feel like shit, there’s always someone there to remind me that life was never just a hell hole. When this war is over, I like to imagine, life could get better. We could maybe live together, you can continue your stupid experiments, I can open a teashop.”

“Then we’ll fight over your black tea budget and how badly I clean the hallways,” Hange joked.

Levi’s mouth quivered into a smile and he closed his eyes. Hange watched as the sleeping effects of the herbal disinfectant took effect. She caressed his cheek and noted how his skin was still warm to the touch but not as hot as it was the night before.

When this war is over, I like to imagine, life could get better. Levi’s words echoed in Hange’s head. She closed her eyes, picturing the future he told her about a moment ago. It would take decades for the people within the walls to realize the futility of war and the vulnerability of the soldiers they had for so long revered. Either way, she let herself imagine spending a war-free future, stressing over mundane problems with the one she loved.

Before Hange left to scavenge for lunch, she allowed herself a few minutes to just stare at his sleeping face. She wondered if he was dreaming of that same future he had told her about. The subtle smile of a while ago had not disappeared from his face yet and somehow, he looked more peaceful than he did the night before.

Hange smiled. Maybe he was dreaming of the both of them. “You’re my escape, too,” she whispered.

Just in case he was.

[jaskiersvalley]

I'm thriving on the angsty things you write. Especially with the Cahir/Eskel/Lambert trio. Especially the uncertainty of Cahir being alright or even alive in most situations. I wonder if you have more things with that kind of stuff, I mean, is there a piece where one of them clinically died for some time? And the others were uncertain about this one's fate?

You know how to break my heart Nonnie. Usually I wouldn’t touch a prompt dealing with death. As a general rule, character death prompts get deleted immediately. But it’s a new year, I’m in a very odd funk (all I will say is: fuck you melon in the fridge, fuck you) so, you know. I wrote this. I cried. Eskel cried. Lambert cried. Cahir cried. And one of them died.

CW: Major Character Death

Just because love had magically found them didn’t mean that they could slack off. All three of Lambert, Eskel and Cahir had their roles in the world, tunes they had to march to even if their hearts called to each other. However, they could compromise and pick times and places where they could just so happen to meet. They were few and far between but that made their shared moments that much more precious. Usually, they picked quite out of the way places that they knew to be Witcher tolerant. Having one Witcher in an inn made people nervous, to have two easily turned them hostile. It meant it was usually a little further for Cahir to travel but he always maintained it was worth it.

Knowing what they did of each other’s travelling habits, Eskel was usually first to arrive. He liked to get a room as big as possible, claiming his size warranted a few nights of luxury in a bed he could fit in. Second to arrive was Cahir, always keen not to be late which made him almost early. Despite his best intentions, he had a habit of finding trouble wherever he went, which meant he rarely did get to their meeting point before Eskel, even it that was his plan. Last but not least, Lambert would saunter in, loving the fact that everything was ready, he didn’t have to make nice with the local and beg them to take an unfair portion of his coin for subpar board and food.

Only, this time when he arrived, it was only Eskel there to greet him. Unusual as it was, they knew Cahir attracted trouble by just existing. It wouldn’t be a surprise to have him turn up, bruise and battered but with a somewhat proud smile at having managed to either save the day or outwit some fool who tried to cross him. The sun set, Lambert and Eskel curled up in bed. Just because Cahir wasn’t there didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company. They’d have plenty of love and energy for when Cahir arrived.

The next day was equally empty of Cahir. Slowly, Lambert and Eskel began to worry. A day late was fine but this was now three days later than usual. Not only was Cahir late but their room was only paid for one more day. Over breakfast the next morning, Eskel made some enquiries.

“There’s rumours of a beast on the southern road. Been upending carts and spooking horses. Your contact may have run afoul of it.”

Asking around in the village, it was rapidly becoming apparent that there was indeed something haunting the road. The silver lining was that the mayor offered a handful of coin if Eskel took care of it. It wasn’t like they could linger any longer, Lambert left a message for Cahir if he made it that they missed him and were heading south for a contract.

“It’s likely a noon wraith,” Eskel said as he led Scorpion out of the stall. “I hate those so much.”

“You cast yrden and I’ll do the rest. Work to our strengths and all that shit Vesemir banged on about.”

Swords coated in wraith oil, Eskel left Scorpion in the shade when he began to get skittish. It meant the wraith was nearby. Sure enough, there was an otherworldly screech and something buffeted past them, giving them angry shoves but nothing more. Probably a newly created wraith then, still with some memories intact. Eskel threw his hand up as the wraith rounded on them again and cast yrden. Instantly Lambert was throwing himself into the fray, sword raised. Only, he didn’t bring it down in a maiming blow. With an alarmed cry, he took a step back and promptly fell on his backside. It was usually a death sentence for a Witcher to be so clumsy. Yet the wraith didn’t attack. In fact, it slowed down and morphed into a flickering image of what it had once been.

“Lambert?” Hollow, crackling voiced, the wraith loomed over Lambert. “Why did you try to hurt me Lambert?”

Eskel’s sign flickered and failed as he watched Cahir’s spirit waver above Lambert. There was no hiding the gasp of a sob that ripped from his throat. Immediately Cahir’s attention was on him.

“You’re crying. I’ve never seen you cry before.” Cahir floated closer to Eskel, a ghostly hand reaching to try and wipe the tears. It was like being touched by fire and ice at the same time as Cahir’s hand brushed not over but through his scars. The tear’s path down Eskel’s cheek remained unchanged.

Behind them, Lambert picked himself up, looking stricken. He couldn’t do it. The hundreds of wraiths he’d dealt with before had been impersonal. They were malicious echoes left behind by a violent death. None of them had been Cahir who he’d seen laugh, cry and everything in between. His watery eyes met Eskel’s. They knew what had to be done. But they were too weak.

Reaching for the tear again, Cahir watched his hand pass through Eskel’s cheek. His lips formed a soft ‘oh’ and he pulled his hand back.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Lips quivering, Eskel nodded.

“They killed me.” Cahir looked towards a copse of trees and Lambert knew where they were going to have to go once Cahir’s spirit moved on. “Six bandits-” His hand drifted to his throat subconsciously. “-they wanted my money. I only had a handful of florens but they didn’t think it was enough. They wanted my horse and then they- they-” Moving his hand away from his throat, Eskel could see the bruises forming as the memories came back.

Looking over his shoulder, Cahir twisted to look at Lambert. Taking pity on him, Eskel moved to stand next to his partner so they could both see Cahir.

“What do I do?” Cahir looked so lost and young all of a sudden.

Voice nothing more than a croak, Lambert replied. “You move on. You have to.”

Unable to hold himself back, Eskel reached for Cahir, held his hand in a mimicry of cupping his cheek. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Tears were flowing down his cheek, his nostrils flared with each sniff. It didn’t get easier to watch as Cahir reached up, hand hovering over his while the other reached for Lambert.

“You’ll always be with us,” Lambert promised, his hand clenching over static filled air. “We won’t forget you.”

Cahir offered a wobbly smile of his own. “Our history will always carry our shared footprints.”

A gust of wind scattered ghostly ashes that faded in the grass. Eskel dropped to his knees, sobbing, hands scrabbling to keep even a single speck of it. Not that Lambert was much better. His lips were pressed into a tight, white line and he leaned over, braced on his knees, trying to hold back his sobs. There was nothing left though. Nothing of the man they had loved, only a body they were going to have to retrieve. The only thing left was to build a Witcher’s funeral pyre. Cahir may not have been a Witcher himself, but he’d had two Witchers’ hearts to call his own.