#praying for the show to bring him some justice in terms of fandom reception

[markantonys]

"My blood shed before hers; my life given before hers. “Thank you, Master Tesen. I… ” My blood shed before hers… that was the oath he had taken when barely tall enough to peer into Elayne’s cradle." (LOC)

"He wanted Egwene out of this death trap [the Sharan camp, where the two of them are completely surrounded and she can't channel without being immediately discovered and captured]...Once he was a short distance from her, he slipped on one of the rings of the Bloodknives. He had activated it with his blood, as Leilwin had said was needed. She’d also said it might kill him." (AMOL)

"Someone had to fight this creature [Demandred], someone had to kill him or they would lose this battle. They could all see it. Risking Egwene or Logain would be too great a gamble. Gawyn could be risked. No one would send him to do this—no one would dare—but it was necessary." (AMOL)

i am sick of the "gawyn only used the bloodrings and went after demandred for selfish personal glory" fandom narrative. he swore to sacrifice his life for others' when he was a TODDLER and has had that mindset his literal entire life. of course he's going to be dangerously self-sacrificial during the battle for the fate of the world. he has thought of himself as disposable since toddlerhood, of course it doesn't occur to him that other people might need him to live for them rather than die for them.

gawyn considers it his duty to die for other people just as surely as rand and lan do, values his own life just as little as they do, is just as willing as them to throw his life away and thereby hurt his loved ones. (lan literally does the exact same thing of risking his last-battle-crucial bondholder-wife in a suicide mission against demandred; he shouldn't be judged differently for this decision than gawyn is just because he happens to survive.) for rand and lan, the fandom recognizes that such behavior stems from a cocktail of self-hate/trauma/childhood conditioning and sympathizes with them for it, and celebrates when they gradually unlearn it. gawyn dies because he's never given the chance to unlearn it, and all he gets is universal reader hate for being selfish. his entire character is one big walking cry for help from TSR onwards, and no one notices, neither other characters nor readers. he dies feeling that he wasn't good enough. and i will never stop crying about it!

[lambcaey]

Casino Cups: Life Goes On (Part 1)

This three-part fanfic is largely based on the awesome Cuphead AU known as Ask Cups and Casinos, but could apply to the Cuphead fandom in general, too (just long before the Cup bros start working at the casino). Definitely check it out!

Credit goes to Bright Goat for the AU (hope I did justice to your amazing work!) Enjoy! 

Part 2

Casino Cups: Life Goes On (Part 1)

Silence without serenity; stillness with a sense of foreboding; a feeling of calm clashing with that of rapidly-growing fear. That was how it felt during the first few minutes without Elder Kettle. One minute, he was tearfully professing his love for his grandsons. The next, there lay nothing in bed but a shallow husk of china. This wasn't to say that it happened completely out of nowhere. The man was getting on in years, and his family couldn't afford the kind of medical treatment that would preserve his already very long life. Despite the Isles' long history of supernatural phenomena, none of the local mystics could conjure up anything guaranteeing immortality, aside from repeating the horrific mistake of making another deal with the Devil. Nevertheless, no matter how aware the boys were of this day coming, they still weren't ready when it eventually occurred. By the time he'd reached his final hours, Elder Kettle had stopped trying to escape his fate. Instead, he came to terms with it as a fact of life, a life that was as happy and fulfilling as it could ever be for him. Even as the last of his family stood before him, begging him not to go, Elder Kettle left this plane of existence with a smile, completely at peace. It took a great deal of will power after such an intense shock, but the boys eventually forced themselves to leave their grandfather's bedside for the proper postmortem preparations. It was almost too painful to even look at their elder's corpse anymore. They didn't want to leave him, but, at the same time, there wasn't anything left to hold on to; just an empty shell in which a warm, caring, and loving soul once resided. It was incredibly unnerving, the idea of something this traumatic and heartbreaking occurring in this cheery, colorful, whimsical world. Every other element of life, even death, had some sort of silly, cartoon-like slant, at least from Cuphead and Mugman's perspective. Seeing stars; pupils rolling in their heads; a giant lump that could be brought down with the swing of a hammer; any sort of injury or illness was presented with the classic "Rule of Funny" that usually dictated the rules of physics and natural order in Inkwell Isle. Here, there wasn't any of that. No soul to parry, no ghost to interact with; Elder Kettle was plainly, simply, and completely gone. This event was just another item of this world's never-ending list of questionable occurrences. The only real shock from it was how starkly it contrasted to the rest of Inkwell Isle. Naturally, such a rare phenomenon of this magnitude could hardly be kept a secret. The news spread fast to the other residents in the isles, and, within the next half hour, virtually all of them had arrived at the boys' doorstep. Of course, there were exceptions. As much as the Devil and King Dice relished the misery of others, this particular soul was of no real value to them, which would make the experience more boring and pointless than anything else. Weepy also had to remain outside, lest he start flooding the house with his rivers of tears (more so than usual). Everyone else was either mourning by Elder Kettle's bedside, or offering any form of assistance or comfort to his grieving grandsons. Though the boys couldn't afford an official funeral, this was the closest to one as they were ever going to get, and they greatly accepted it. Mugman was very receptive to his friends' kindness. He showed the utmost gratitude from even the smallest of favors, from a shoulder to cry on to an array of bouquets for his grandfather's grave. He also spent much of the time reflecting on all the fond memories he and everyone else shared with him, even mentioning some of the more humorous ones to bring some sort of levity to the situation. Though part of Mugman felt very much alone, being surrounded by all his friends and neighbors was all the more comforting to him during this troubling time. Cuphead, on the other hand, expressed an entirely different demeanor during the pseudo-funeral. He kept himself isolated from the rest of the crowd, sitting at the top of the stairs with his arms resting on his knees. Instead of shedding any tears, his eyes gazed off into space, as though a million thoughts were racing in his mind at once. Friends like Cagney or Hilda had asked if there was anything they could do for him, but after a few times of giving them a cold "I'm fine," Cuphead retreated to his room, barring himself from any socialization altogether. He didn't even come out to watch the local ghosts deliver his grandfather's urn to the mausoleum. It was as clear as day that Cuphead was anything but "fine." Many people, especially his brother, were very tempted to go upstairs, and insist that he come out and talk with them. However, they also bore in mind that perhaps this was Cuphead's way of grieving with such a tremendous loss. The last thing the poor boy needed was feeling as if his friends were trying to impose on him how they thought he should act in the face of his grandfather's passing. Although they had good intentions, everyone agreed it was best to leave Cuphead alone...for now. ~~~~ After an almost sleepless night, Mugman dragged himself downstairs, and fried up some eggs and bacon for himself and his brother, hoping he'd at least be willing to come out and eat. He also poured a couple of glasses of orange juice, and, by force of habit, reached out to grab some English breakfast tea with sugar, before remembering that family connoisseur was no longer there to enjoy it. Only seconds after setting the table, Cuphead tiredly made his way to the kitchen as well. "M-Morning, Cups." Mugman chirped with a forced smile. "I made us some breakfast." "Thanks," Cuphead responded rather brusquely as he sat down. Although the meal was well-made by any standards, any appetite for it was practically nonexistent. Mugman forced a few bites of his eggs while Cuphead simply twirled his fork around the bacon, staring glumly down at the table. After a moment or so of awkward silence, Mugman nervously attempted to break the ice. "I, uh, I put Hilda's flowers up as a centerpiece for the table," the young boy stammered. "That was really nice of her, huh?" No answer. Mugman tried something else. "It...looks like a really nice day outside. If you want, maybe we can go for a walk, or catch some butterflies, or see how the others are doing. How-How does that sound?" Again, no response. He may as well be talking to an empty chair. Mugman let out a small sigh. He clearly wasn't getting anywhere with his grief-stricken brother. With a heavy frown, Mugman tried appealing to Cuphead's better nature. "Listen, Cuphead. It's ok if you don't feel like talking to me, but...just know that I'm always here for you whenever you need it. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to. I..." Mugman's voice quivered a bit. "I just don't want you to feel like you gotta be all alone." At last, Cuphead looked up at his brother, his expression switching from dullness to sudden concern. Although he was referring to Cuphead in his offer of emotional support, it was a subtle, yet clear, sign of the same desire on Mugman's part as well. He may have sounded calm and collected in his words, but they were drowned out from the stronger signs of loneliness and misery in his facial and body language. After a moment of staring longingly at his brother, Cuphead's face winced and twitched with anxiety, his clenched fists shaking on the table. "M-Mug, I...I-I uh..." Just when it seemed like he was ready to explode, Cuphead swallowed hard, forcing himself to regain his former composure. "D-Don't worry, Mug. We'll both be all right. I just...I need some time to think." At that, Cuphead excused himself from the table, heading back upstairs. Mugman's eyelids rose in bewilderment. He wasn't sure whether to feel hurt from Cuphead walking away when he needed help, or worried for his stability after just seeing him fight so hard with himself. This sense of uncertainty became the norm over the next few days. The boys remained close, refusing to leave either one home alone for any reason. Ironically, despite such closeness, it was this same concern that also made them keep their distance. Although they deeply desired each other's companionship during this time of grief, something in their heads made them reluctant to act on it. Cuphead continued to isolate himself and battle his internal conflict while Mugman stayed away out of respect for his brother's time to "think." It was a paradox of perfectly painful proportions, and they both prayed that it would soon part. Fortunately for Cuphead and Mugman, they didn't spend the week in completely shut out from the world. Once in a while, a friend or two would stop by, and ask the boys how they had been doing. Mugman was thankful and accepting of any company that was offered to him. Occasionally, there was activity involved, such as playing chess with Werner, Beppi fashioning a balloon animal bouquet, and even Djimmi performing some magic tricks. Most of the time, though, Mugman felt just as, if not more, satisfied with simply sitting around and talking, whether to listen to advice or have his friends hear him out. It may not have felt like the same sort of love and caring that Elder Kettle provided, but it definitely lifted Mugman's spirits knowing he still had so many people to look after him. Although his friends offered this same comfort to Cuphead, he remained adamant in his desire to be left in solitude, which was starting to worry Mugman and the others. It wasn't as though they felt he was grieving in the wrong way; it was that, perhaps, Cuphead's self-imposed isolation was beginning to do more harm than good. Taking the time to contemplate and collect one's thoughts is an important part of the grieving process. In Cuphead's case, however, the extent to which he'd spent so much time alone left a greater impression that he wasn't allowing himself to be with anyone. He was never fond of asking for help, as it went against his self-image of being an independent, confident go-getter in virtually any task at hand. Never did Cuphead ever realize that coping with death and loss was going to be the biggest challenge he'd ever faced, enough to make fighting the Devil look tame. ~~~~ Five days later, Mugman felt enough was enough. As Cuphead sat solemnly on the swing set, staring off into the sky, his brother approached him in a manner that was both nervous and assertive, trying as delicately as possible to address the glaring elephant in the room. "C-C-Cuphead," Mugman uttered. "A-Are you ready to finally talk now?" Cuphead sighed, his head now facing down. On any other day, Mugman would've rightfully taken this as a subtle, yet clear, "no." Nonetheless, he could no longer stand wallowing in hesitation, and remained persistant. "Cuphead, please. We can't keep going on like this." Mugman sat on the adjacent swing. "If we don't hear each other out, then w-we'll be too sad to eat, play, or do pretty much anything." Cuphead remained still, but his face made a grimace, his eyes shutting tight as they brimmed with tears. His mind was practically screaming at every muscle in his body to let him walk away again, or, at the very least, allow for any sort of movement beyond trembling and staggering breathing. Alas, the inner turmoil that had been festering inside Cuphead had now brought him into a state of psychological paralysis. All the anxiety, sadness, and loneliness he'd been trying to brush off had now ensnared him like quicksand. Noticing the rising tension, Mugman slowly reached his hand for that of his brother. "Cuphead, what's the matter? I wanna help you." The moment Mugman lay one finger on his hand, Cuphead suddenly found the strength to become mobile again. With a deep breath and a heavy gulp, he jerked up from his swing, staring down at his startled sibling. "I'm sorry, Mug," he answered firmly, "I'm sorry I've been so distant. I didn't mean to make you feel like I didn't care about you or anything." "Aw, Cuphead, you didn't-" Mugman stopped. His heartfelt response immediately froze from the sudden chill in his brother's voice. "But...but I think I finally know how to fix everything, and get our lives back to the way they were. I'm..." He paused, mustering the last bit of strength to speak his mind. "I'm gonna get Elder Kettle back!" Mugman gasped. "Cuphead, no! Y-you can't do that! Elder Kettle is dea-" "I KNOW!" Cuphead screamed, taking a few breaths to regain stability in his voice. "I mean, he may be now, b-but as long as we have things like ghosts and angels and soul contracts in this world, I am never gonna rule out the possibility that he could come back!" Mugman stood beside Cuphead, a familiar feeling of danger creeping inside him. "Cuphead, for once, be reasonable! Y-You almost gambled our souls for the Devil; who knows what'll happen if you-" "Reasonable?!" Cuphead shouted, taken aback. "Why don't you, for once, be willing to take a risk for something you want? We've spent way too much time with Elder Kettle to just give up on him now! Don't you even want to see him again?!" "Of course I do!" Mugman's voice started hardening as well. "But this...i-it just doesn't feel right!" "Fine, be that way! Sit here at home, and do nothing like a coward!" Cuphead paused. Mugman's expression looked like a twisted combination of hurt and enraged. As he turned his back on him, Cuphead softened his tone a bit. "Trust me, Mug. This is the only way we're gonna be happy again. And don't worry; I won't let you down. I won't stop until I've set everything right for all three of us!" The second he finished that declaration, Cuphead smoke-dashed away, making a beeline for the woods of Inkwell Isle I. Mugman tried hurriedly to catch up with him. "Cuphead, wait! Come back!" Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the forest became too dense with foliage to safely smoke-dash any farther. Before he knew it, Cuphead was already out of sight. Mugman's mind turned into an emotional roller coaster. Knowing his brother's hasty nature, he simply knew that what Cuphead had proposed was another one of his terrible ideas. Granted, much of Inkwell Isles' laws of nature didn't make sense to begin with. After all, this was a place where a queen bee could summon floating triangles, a giant mermaid could live while decapitated, and, as Cuphead had pointed out, there were even many ghosts and skeletons roaming freely in their afterlife! Nevertheless, nothing along such lines had appeared to come to fruition in Elder Kettle's case. If he wasn't meant to be seen among the living, it was most likely that, like everything else in Inkwell Isle, it was better to not question it, and simply accept it as part of reality. The last time Cuphead tried to defy that rule, the Devil very nearly took their heads. Also, despite the danger he knew would be at hand, there was a part of Mugman that wondered why he should bother saving Cuphead at all? How dare he accuse him of not caring about their beloved grandfather! He was every bit as upset over the loss as his brother was; how does wanting to move forward make him a coward? This was a new low, even for someone who carelessly gambled both their souls to the Devil. If Cuphead were to suffer, it's what he deserves for being such a jerk...right? Mugman then shook his head, rationality and common sense catching up with him. Cuphead's in trouble, he spoke in his mind. None of these arguments matter right now. I gotta make sure he stays safe, now more than ever. Not hesitating a minute longer, Mugman followed the path his brother took, his tear-soaked eyes now glaring with determination. An unnerving aura permeated the isles as a blood-red sunset turned Mugman's body into a bold silhouette. As much as he wanted to put his mental turmoil to rest, he had to put his grief aside if he wanted to keep family from getting any smaller than it already was.

(To be continued)