#promised to me by a man who can feel nothing but hatred and contempt towards you

[tearfulangel]

bound to suffer eternally

[ethelcain-songs]

Ptolmaea Ethel Cain

I followed you in and I was with you there I invited you in twice, I did You love blood too much But not like I do Not like I do

Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you Need you, love you, love you, love you Heard you, saw you, felt you, love you Love you, love you, love you, love you Love you, love you, love you, love you Love you, love you, love you, love you You'd do well to say yes to me

Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee Promising a big fire, any fire Saying I'm the one, he's gonna take me I'm on fire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire Suffering is nigh, drawing to me Calling me the one, I'm the white light Beautiful, finite

Even the iron still fears the rot Hiding from something I cannot stop Walking on shadows, I can't lead him back, uh Buckled on the floor when night comes along Daddy's left and momma won't come home, oh, uh

You poor thing Sweet, mourning lamb There's nothing you can do It's already been done

What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me (show me your face) Please, don't look at me I can see it in your eyes, he keeps looking at me Tell me, what have you done?

Stop, stop, stop, make it stop Stop, make it stop, make it stop I've had enough Stop, stop, stop, stop Stop, stop, stop, stop

I am the face Of love's rage I am the face Of love's rage

Blessed be the Daughters of Cain Bound to suffering eternal through the sins of their fathers committed long before their conception Blessed be their whore mothers Tired and angry, waiting with bated breath in a ferry that will never move again Blessed be the children Each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence Blessed be you, girl Promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you

I am no good nor evil, simply I am And I have come to take what is mine I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood I am here now, as you run from me still Run then, child You can't hide from me forever

[eclipsecrowned]

rotates the canon 7 muses

and aer*th is 'this fate's already fucked me sideways' 'there's nothing you can do it's already been done' 'blessed be you girl promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you'

and l*cretia is 'jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mother's blood' 'god loves you but not enough to save you' 'i tried to be good am i no good am i no good am i no good'

[rotisseries]

you poor thing, sweet mourning lamb. there's nothing you can do, it's already been done. what fear a man like you, brings upon, (show me your face) a woman like me, please don't look at me, I can see it in (come here) your eyes, he keeps looking at me, tell me, what have you done? stop, (make it stop) stop, (go away) stop, (no, no, no, no, no) make it stop, (NO, NO, NO, NO, NO) stop, (NO, NO, NO, NO, NO) make it stop, (NO, NO, NO, NO, NO) make it stop, (NO, NO, NO, NO, NO) I've had enough, stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOPPPPPPPPP!!!!! I... am... the... (AAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH) face... (NO NO NO NO NO) of... (NO NO NO NO NO NO) love's..... (NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO) rage...... (AUGGGHHHH) I.... am..... the..... (AGGHH) face.... (AAAGGHHHH, PLEASE!) of..... love's.... rage.................................. [weak breathing] blessed be the daughters of cain. bound to suffering eternal through the sins of their fathers committed long before their conception. blessed be their whore mothers, tired and angry, waiting with baited breath in a ferry that will never move again. blessed be the children, each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence. blessed be you girl, promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you. I am no good, nor evil, simply I am, and I have come to take what is mine. [choking] I was there, in the dark, when you spilled your first blood, I am here now, [hacking] as you run from me still. run then child, [death rattle] you can't hide from me forever..... [police radio chatter]

[lunarins]

a glance into the playlist and mind of jeon haerin .. she listens to more music than she speaks .. !! see below the cut for the lyrics she relates to from each song.

ptolemaea by ethel cain

❝ blessed be the daughters of cain bound to suffering eternal through the sins of their fathers committed long before their conception blessed be their whore mothers tired and angry, waiting with bated breath in a ferry that will never move again blessed be the children each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence blessed be you, girl promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you.

this song plays a big role in haerin's overall character creation, as a large part of her story is influenced by ethel cain's entire preacher's daughter album. her mother had left their family when she was young, and ended up having an entirely new family years later, so haerin views her negatively. her mother also suffered from borderline personality disorder, which is the same as haerin, and they both experience extreme rage at times.

perfume by del water gap

❝ call me in the morning, beg me in the night i'll be over safely if you need it anytime i'm picturing you right now with nothing on, with nothing on but your perfume bending over backwards to stay up in your head did i waste it all falling back with an old friend? i don't believe what this has come to

this song is important to haerin and her development because it surrounds her relationship with iseul. they are best friends, but they also have an extremely complicated relationship and feelings that none of them are bold enough to admit.

how high? by ice spice

❝ yeah, i know he want me, but he rather just lie if i tell him, "jump, " he gon' ask me, "how high?" and i know his fears, but he never met mine never met mine, never, never met mine (damn)

once again.. another song describing her relationship to iseul. simply put, haerin is terrible with commitment, and iseul is truly the first person she felt genuine feelings for. however, they both deny their feelings and never admit it to each other, which leads to constant fights as they try to work out their friendship. it's obvious how they feel, but the denial is far more obvious. haerin has never told iseul about her diagnosis, and her main fear is that if he found out, he would no longer want to be around her, which is why the line "i know his fears, but he never met mine", is so influential to her and their relationship.

u by osun

❝ 일단 그날을 보내고 나서 조금 바뀌어 쉽진 않아도 내 곁에 있을 거란 걸 했기에 약속 순수한 것들을 찾게 됐네 딴 애들 이젠 내 눈엔 없네 아무리 떼를 쓰고 투정을 부려도 내 맘은 절대 안 바뀔 애

although this song is more of a.. sad love song about a past lover, to haerin, this is more viewed as the relationship with her mother. one of the lyrics states, "my heart will never change". this resonates with haerin a lot, mainly because she is so angry at her mother for leaving, but deep down, she misses her. she blames herself for leaving, and she knows that in her heart, her feelings towards her mother will never change.

eta by yehon

originally from newjeans, this cover is more so the feeling it evokes for haerin's character rather than the lyrics. it is a slower, more rock-centered version of the song, and it has a feeling of loneliness and pleading which isn't present in the original version of the song. the reason this matter is because haerin is a pretty lonely person. she doesn't have many people she talks to on a deep level due to her issues with trust and fear of being abandoned, and this song accurately conveys how she feels with the english lyrics, "but where are you?"

susie save your love by allie x & mitski

❝ save your love for someone like me you don't have to be a part-time susie save your love and take mine from me (susie) you don't have to be a part-time save your love

this song accurately depicts haerin's relationship with love. she is someone who, most times, never valued herself as a person in relationships. when she loves, she loves hard. she is jealous and possessive, but she is completely devoted to the person where she sees no red flags or warning signs. she is better now, and knows that she is in no state for a relationship, nor does she want one, but this song is telling for her.

[jaskier-cult]

The Witcher With Blue Eyes

*throws this at you* random bullshit, go!

here, take some random ramblings of an au i came up with!! no fucking idea where i am going with this, but you can't stop me

*

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

Geralt was still a relatively new witcher, just five years on the Path, when this rumor appeared, and he was not naïve enough to fall for such fodder.

All witchers had yellow eyes. This was a given. None of the witcher schools had the exact same mutagens – every school was just slightly different, imbuing their witchers with the characteristics of the wild beast they represented – but all witchers had yellow eyes. That was how it was. That was how the mutagens worked. That was how a witcher could be recognized.

A witcher with blue eyes.

Geralt scoffed.

*

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

There are stories of a witcher who strangled a wyvern with his bare hands, out of madness.

There are stories of a witcher who laughed, with empty blue eyes, as he danced with his twin blades and wrought cold blood.

Geralt is no longer new to the Path, and he has heard these stories for a while now. Even among his own brethren, the stories are whispered and shared. His mentors talk about blue eyes with cold indifference, but it’s apparent they are unsettled. A blue eyed witcher – who ever heard of such a thing?

But then the School of Viper loses its most infamous witcher in its own keep. In the blink of an eye.

And Geralt’s not so sure they’re rumors anymore.

*

Julian was different.

Even before the mutagens and the training and the trauma, he was always slightly to the left.

When he arrived at the steps of the School of the Viper, he had been scared witless. Gorthur Gvaed, the Viper Keep, also known affectionately as Blood Gate Keep by its inhabitants, was located deep in the Tir Tochair mountains. It was the furthest south Julian had ever been; it had been months from the lands he had grown up in.

It was also the furthest he had ever travelled, dead on his feet as he followed the viper witcher down the beaten Path, in boots not cut-out for the long days walking.

The witcher rode his horse while Julian walked. Julian was never allowed to touch the stallion and was threatened with the loss of his hand otherwise. The witcher only stopped when Julian could go no further, and sometimes then, forced the stumbling boy on with a crushing grip on his arm. Julian would sway on his feet, his vision would swim, and not even his not-so-human blood could save him from his human needs, like food, and water, and rest.

The witcher never gave him his name. He did not speak except to give commands. He called Julian names like “wretch” and “bastard.” He never called Julian by his name.

He was cold and cruel, like the village kids used to be to Julian.

Julian did not like the witcher.

But then they would pass through a village or small backwater hamlet, and he would see the sneers and barely disguised looks of disgust on the humans’ faces. The witcher may have thought him a mindless child, but he was smart, and he noticed when the witcher was forced to pay over three times the asking price for services like horse stabling and food. He saw when the witcher was scammed on hunts when they made their way south. He caught the whispers and murmurs of half-baked plans to murder the witcher in his sleep, just for being different.

He bore witness to the mistreatment of the witcher.

And though he damned himself for thinking it, Julian understood. He felt a kinship with the witcher.

And it did not excuse the witcher’s behaviour. It did not excuse his cruelness. Hurting others was a choice, no matter how hurt you were. But even then, a small part of Julian could sympathize with the man who was beat into this cruel soul.

They weren’t so different from each other, cruelness and all.

It took a long time for the witcher to trust Julian enough to leave him unsupervised – always with a threat lingering, of promising to hunt him down and slit his throat if he tried to run away – but when he finally did, Julian made no attempt to escape because he knew there was no point.

But Julian would never forget the face of the witcher when he came back from a hunt to find their camp painted with blood, Julian sitting by the fire and methodically cleaning the dagger he had successfully slipped from the witcher without notice. Several bodies lay on the outskirt of the camp; bandits who had made the mistake of thinking Julian was helpless.

An arm was missing from one of the bandits and the fire in the middle of the camp was roaring, the wood stacked high and the flames impossibly hot. Julian roasted his meal over the fire. It served the witcher for leaving him to starve, he thought bitterly.

And just once, Julian preened when he saw the way the witcher looked at him.

With something more than contempt.

With something akin to unease.

Julian was eight that night.

*

Julian was nothing.

Julian certainly wasn’t special when he arrived at Blood Gate Keep. He certainly wasn’t the first more-than-human boy to be claimed by a witcher and taken for the Trials.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was a contradiction of bloodlines, was the product of a shameless family.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was not special. Julian was not different. Julian was not more.

Julian was nothing.

Julian was not going to survive, because he was weak and small and he didn’t listen, and Julian was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing. He was nothing. That was drilled into him as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

Because Julian was nothing.

*

Every witcher school had the boys relentlessly train. The mutagens only did so much, and there was no success if there was talent without skill. Julian learned this very early on.

But Blood Gate Keep, despite the Trials, and physical training, and reading in bestiaries, still had all young witchers in training go through a final exam: The First Hunt. It was a physical exam before the Trials took place. The young boys had to survive in the surrounding wilderness for several days isolated and alone and make a kill; every boy was put out prepared with weapons and camping gear and told not to come back until they had proof of their kill.

Blood Gate Keep was in a remote location, more remote than other witcher schools, far away from any human civilization in the mountains, and as such the surrounding lands were wild and untamed. Mindless beasts and monsters roamed the base of the mountains, hid in the passing rivers, and hung in the low clouds.

Nobody thought of running away, for that only led to death.

The boys were given two weeks to complete The First Hunt, and no more. If they came back without proof of kill, they were slaughtered. Sometimes the vipers of the keep would take pity and leave them to starve out in the wilderness, alone.

Any monster would do, as long as it was dead and killed.

Sometimes the boys went for small monsters, or babes of monsters not yet old enough to walk and open their eyes. Some boys killed wildlife and maimed it so much it was indistinguishable from any other monstrous corpse, and they would claim it a monster. No one ever batted an eye at them.

Julian was thrown out of the keep with nothing but a bedroll and his dagger.

His mentors laughed as they closed the door on the young boy.

No one thought he would survive the Trials, much less complete The First Hunt.

He set out with a vengeance.

He survived out of pure spite.

And he marched straight back up the mountain to Blood Gate Keep, soaked in the blood of an arch griffin, blue eyes wild, the tongue of the griffin ripped straight from its mouth with his bare hands.

His dagger was clean.

*

The other boys in the keep were cruel, just like the witcher who brought him there. Even within the confines of stone walls, with death imminent, his peers still couldn’t find it within themselves to be kind toward him.

Julian has watched many boys comfort each other on cold nights, has watched older boys console the younger, has noticed the way many boys sleep together because of nightmares.

But not with him.

They tease and mock him.

They push and shove him.

They point and stare.

He’s the only one with eyes as blue as his, with a streak of wild that could not be tamed by their mentors, almost feral. He’s the only one who didn’t bow and snap under the cruelties of Blood Gate Keep. The only one who was not infected with hatred.

And none of the other boys can sympathize with him because they don’t understand him. Julian does not wish to hurt others. All the boys at Blood Gate Keep were going through the same thing, but it affected all of them differently. And some of the boys took the lessons they were handed and grew up bitter and wishing others could feel their hurt; others took their lessons and grew up tired and wishing others would never feel their hurt.

But none of it matters because the other boys still hate Julian.

It hurts, because even among a group of those who knew what he was going through, he still felt utterly alone. He was slipped poison in his drinks. His food was swiped. His clothes were shredded. He was targeted in training. There was no end to the cruelness, from mentors and peers alike.

Some days Julian falls mute from the sheer pressure pushing in on him from everything and everyone.

One day Julian is almost killed in his sleep by another boy in his cohort, and no one says anything when that boy never shows up again. It was not uncommon – even normal – for those in Blood Gate Keep to betray each other and sabotage others. It was encouraged. And still, Julian forces himself from his bed to live to see another day.

Julian uses his disadvantages to his advantage.

Everyone underestimates him.

He understands why.

Julian is small. Even with all the hormone packed lichen and meat the witchers fed the boys at the keep in preparation for training and Trials. Julian is thin where the other boys are broad, he is lean where the other boys are muscled. Julian has soft features. He has soft floppy hair and soft blue eyes. The other boys have stringy hair and deep shit-coloured eyes, even if they weren’t brown.

*

Julian won’t survive the Trials because he’s too weak. He’s not quite human, but he is still weak in the eyes of his mentors. Julian doesn’t do what he’s told. He will fail.

But within Julian’s small frame is a feral animal.

And it’s almost laughable when he sees their reaction every time they push, push, push – and he finally pushes back, finally snaps at them – and they’re shocked. Like they never saw it coming, even though it happened every time.

You don’t see what you don’t want to believe, supposedly.

*

Julian learned that the School of the Viper did things a little differently than the other witcher schools, and he wasn’t surprised.

He wasn’t surprised to learn of his school’s failings.

*

Julian passes through the Trials, to everyone’s shock.

Julian comes out of the Trials with his same inhuman blue eyes, to everyone’s shock.

Julian slits the throat of the witcher who had brought him to Blood Gate Keep, to no one’s shock.

Probably because they never found out it was him.

*

Witchers weren’t liked, but some schools had better reputations than others.

Certainly, the wolves of Kaer Morhen had the most heroic reputation; headstrong and loyal, with more morals than most witchers, disregarding that most witchers didn’t have morals at all.

The cats of Stygga Castle were known to be maniac, either lacking all emotion or treading the fine line of insanity with too much emotion; they killed not just traditional monsters, but also monsters of the human variety, and would take any contract for an innocent’s head if given enough coin.

But the vipers of Gorthur Gvaed were neither of those.

Vipers were predators, through and through.

The mutagens the School of Viper used did not tamper with emotions the way the mutagens from the School of Cat did; it did not need to, for every Viper that came out of Blood Gate Keep was beaten into a cruel and merciless man.

The School of Viper did not raise witchers with morals of a sense of duty to humanity, the way the School of Wolf did; vipers were not safe even within the walls of their own keep, for they never knew when a peer would turn on them for coin, vengeance, or fun. Witchers who stayed in the keep were constantly kept on their toes, their drinks poisoned in game, their training brutal and to the death, and vipers learned early on that you needed to strike first to win, lest your comrade do it first.

Vipers weren’t noble, and vipers weren’t insane; they were just senseless.

*

It was a lie that Cats were the most unstable witchers.

Cats may have had a reputation for being short a marble, but vipers were completely unpredictable.

*

Being the best got you nowhere in Blood Gate Keep.

His fellow witchers and mentors thought Julian weak. They only saw his blue eyes and small frame and soft voice, and their eyes passed over him.

That was good.

Being smart, being strong, being fast – those were traits that made you a target in the Viper’s den.

It was a constant battle of trying to best one another, trying to come out on top, trying to eliminate any form of threat, even if that threat was a fellow witcher, one of the few boys to make it through the Trials with you. Boys were poisoned left and right. Throats were slit. Witchers died in training if they weren’t strong enough, because a Viper never showed mercy, even when it was his brother who lay at the other end of his blade.

After all, if you couldn’t survive a spar, what good were you on The Path?

Julian used all weapons and tools at his disposal.

He never initiated an attack; he was never the one pouring acid in another’s stew, he didn’t engage in to-the-death spars, he never snuck through the keep and assassinated a fellow brother.

His behaviour wasn’t born out of morals, he soon realized.

It was predatory behaviour, like the Viper he was.

An opportunistic predator.

Julian sat in waiting; he waited for another to initiate the struggle against death. And then, before they could blink, before they could realize that their easy target isn’t so easy, they’re gone.

It was amusing to watch as his peers’ brows furrowed in confusion as to why he was still alive.

And yet, no one figured it out.

No one suspects the fool, after all.

Julian was probably the most dangerous Viper in the keep.

*

As soon as Julian earned his Viper medallion, he left Blood Gate Keep and never looked back.

Julian felt silly wearing two medallions at once, and with great reluctance, he took off the medallion from his parents and packed it at the bottom of his pack with care. He knew his new witcher medallion would be of more use, and would probably save his life, whereas he didn’t know the first thing about how to work the medallion his parents gave him. It was one of the few times he felt truly upset with himself, for all his achievements at Blood Gate Keep, he couldn’t figure out a simple magic piece.

Nonetheless, he didn’t bother with goodbyes or a grand departure. He felt no comradery with the vipers he had shared a den with.

And maybe he walked away with a few witcher corpses at his feet, but that was neither here nor there.

*

There are stories of a witcher with blue eyes.

But those stories haven’t been told in years, and Geralt forgets about them like bedtime stories told to children when they’re young.

After all, a witcher with blue eyes doesn’t exist.

*

As is the cycle with history, new stories come about.

*

There are stories of a bard with blue eyes.

*

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! This isn’t an ask, but more of a rambling that I deemed too long for the comments, that stems from your post claiming Book of Circus as your favourite Black Butler episodes. and to that I say - YES. Book of Murder is a masterpiece. It houses one of my favourite scenes - the one where Sebastian says: "This wasn't a scenario decided by God or fate, but one decided on by my master, with timing decided by my master. I was killed by the criminal expected by my master, by the Hione who came to torment my master", which really captures the essence of whole 'Ciel vs God' dynamic that's woven into the duration of the show.

Throughout the plot, there are three major instances in which an offering is made to Ciel - offerings of redemption. The first is from Angela - a chance to purify himself and have an afterlife - which he so vehemently rejects in the knowledge that he quite literally *is* his darkness, and therefore refuses to rid himself of it.

The second is comes from Abberline in his death, where in his final words he tells Ciel he has a chance to take back his future. And Ciel has to watch him die with the knowledge that he has already made up his mind about his fate. I don't think he's so affected because he regrets selling his soul. I don't think he suddenly wants to live, or no longer wishes for revenge. But I believe the reason he is so affected by Abberline's death is because he holds a sentimentality for him that is not dissimilar to the one he feels for Elizabeth. Ciel is cruel, I don't think he regrets the steps he has taken to get to this point, nor the ones he knows he must take in the future. But though he is cruel, I believe he has a sort of fond curiosity for the untainted goodness that characterises those like Abberline and Elizabeth. Like you said before, he feels condescension towards the man perhaps due to the naivety his blind heroism implies, but I think his attachments to him come from an underlying curiosity to see if such goodness can exist in such a corrupted world - a silent hope to be proven wrong in his cynicism. When Abberline dies, that very hope he didn't even know he had gets shattered. It brings about a sort of forced perspective that makes Ciel question himself in ways we haven't seen before.

Abberline's death had been avoidable and it was certainly in vain. Abberline had died for someone who had already made up his mind - someone who had rejected God once before and would do it time and time again as proven in the anime. Ciel is such an interesting character because, although he is dark, he still values the light and makes some sort of effort to preserve it in spite of the contempt he feels for them. It is the thought of dying in vain that seems to bother him so greatly, not death itself. No, Abberline dying isn't enough for him to want to live again, or to even think about throwing away his revenge - that was never in question. But it is enough to extinguish the lingering flicker of hope he had for humanity (despite being so distanced from term himself).

This, combined with the disappointment he feels at Sebastian's actions, causes the existential haze of uncertainty that leads to the third and final offering. And the most surprising thing is that this offering comes from Sebastian himself. He senses the doubt in Ciel and, like every thought the boy experiences, fails to understand it. He mistakes it for him second-guessing his revenge and decides to discontinue their contract. But he isn't angry - that much is clear. Instead, he wishes him to "forget everything and have pleasant dreams", with a rather wistful expression on his face. What this line ends up reading as is a bittersweet  goodbye from the demon - an offering for Ciel to let go of his revenge and find happiness in the afterlife with his now soon approaching death.  There is almost a strong disappointment in him, but is not resentful of it - Ciel is human and he can't keep expecting him not to be. His offering almost acts as a thank you for the moments of excitement their contract had given his monotone life and I believe that is why he makes it.

He sticks around to see if Ciel accepts his offer, though already expecting him to, and is there to witness the very moment the boy rejects it. Gone is the uncertainty of Abberline's death and the Paris crisis, and Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, returns to him - sharper, colder, more ruthless than ever. Sebastian realises his misjudgement and returns to his side, ready for the final battle. Killing an angel. It's laughably symbolic.

The rejections of God, the evasion of the Hope Diamond's curse (where he even wore two rings as if to taunt the fates), the references in Book of Murder - they all depict this metaphorical sort of battle between Ciel and God. And the ending of Kuroshitsuji II is the depicts how he triumphs over fate, claiming his rightful place as an immortalised creature of Hell.

I know I've gone on a bit of a tangent here in your inbox, but that one quote from Book of Murder is so symbolic to me in the way it sets up the comparison between Ciel and God (in which 'God' represents power over fate).

Before I sign off, though, I just want to make light of the existence of the show's final offering, occurring in the last few minutes of the series. This last offering has nothing too do with God, nothing to do with any complex battle between the Phantomhive and fate, but is much simpler than that. In fact, the final offering of the show comes from Ciel, and he gives it to Sebastian - it's almost poetic, is it not?

"Are you sure you don't want to pull it any tighter?"

In this single, unassuming line, Ciel is asking Sebastian if he wants to kill him, and release himself from the eternal contract they've found themselves in. Such a noble and dignified soul as Ciel would always be sure to make through on his word and, despite the loophole that now extends their contract, he would still be willing to let Sebastian kill him should he wish to do so. The man may no longer be able to take his soul, but the boy can still give the order to kill him and free himself. Ciel's respect for Sebastian is complex and contradictory at times, but what never changes is his willingness to die by his hands and see through to his side of the contract.

“Is it over? The one who plunged me into bottomless darkness… I don’t even know why she did it.”

In the episode where Angela is crushed by the Church, Ciel offers his soul to Sebastian. Even when unsatisfied with the result, his unwavering nobility led him to make good on their deal and fulfil his end of the contract. The earl faced the demon, his expression calm, and with a steady voice said “A promise is a promise. Take it.”

This unwavering dignity and nobility he holds in himself I believe is the reason for this offering and Sebastian's turn to reject it is almost a 'love confession' (as you have brought me to see it) in itself.

As a final sort of note - I just wanted to let you know that, since reading your reply to my comment on TGSTLTH (from a while ago), I brought myself to rewatch Kuroshitsuji II with your interpretation in mind and ended up really enjoying it. You've singlehandedly made me do a complete 180 on a season I previously hated - looks like I had just watched it from the wrong perspective. So, for that, I thank you

Hey! Sorry for getting to your ask just now. I absolutely loved it :D And yes, Book of Murder is a masterpiece - I still remember watching it for the first time. It was late at night, I had to go to bed, everyone was sleeping, but I kept watching because stopping just wasn't an option, I had to know what happened next.

Ciel vs God is such an interesting topic. In some ways, Ciel and Sebastian exist in their own universe where there is no place for anyone else. There is a God aka Ciel and a demon aka Sebastian. And they are both allies and adversaries at the same time - they are tormenting each other and uniting to torment others.

I agree absolutely that Ciel holds a fondness for certain people, with Lizzy and Abberline being a good example. He has a degree of contempt and irritation for them, but they do mean something to him. Ciel's curiosity is a big and detached thing, and this places him on Sebastian's level in such an interesting way because sometimes it's almost like Ciel isn't human himself - humanity intrigues him as if he doesn't belong to it. His fascination with the light just underlines his affinity with the darkness.

I have many thoughts about Ciel's behavior during the days following Abberline's death, and you certainly introduced many excellent points! My general opinion on Ciel's motives is... complicated. I agree that he never felt like really giving up his revenge and trying to live a 'happy' life - he knew it's not for him at that stage already. However, I feel like Abberline's parting words affected him a lot, even if briefly. When Abberline tells him that he can start everything from the beginning, Ciel sounds absolutely heartbroken when he confesses, "I don't have a future." The way he acts later, telling Sebastian to stop and not kill the angel, hesitating, reinforces this idea to me. I think you described it best - Ciel is having an existential crisis. It's not like he suddenly regrets his decisions, but he's temporary unanchored and unsure what he wants and what he should do. Having a dream where Abberline urges him to give up his hatred also seems to affect Ciel, but it's so telling that he wakes up and immediately says, "Sebastian." It's a fascinating arc and I can't wait to explore it.

I love your words about three offerings - so true. And I'm so happy you liked S2 when watching it from a new perspective! I used to be so confused as to why people hated it: it's not perfect, but I thought it was amazing in many ways, especially its bittersweet ending.

[zalrb]

Awake {Bonkai Fanfic}

Alright! I finished the BK Preview, it’s below the cut. NSFW obviously, I don’t think I have a single BK fic that isn’t NSFW. I could make this a two-parter or leave it honestly.

not my gif

Awake

The rest of this fic was inspired by this Olake moment in Scandal

Bonnie Bennett sat on the sofa with her feet up, nursing her second glass of wine, as Mark cleared the coffee table of their plates.

           “You really should let me help,” she said.

           “No, no, no,” he insisted. “This was my anniversary gift to you, that means I do the clean-up.”

           Bonnie smiled and beckoned him toward her, kissing him gently on the lips with the promise of something more.

           “Mm,” he moaned. “I better get these done quickly.”

           “Yes,” said Bonnie. “Or I might start with you.”

           The knowing quirk of her eyebrow almost made Mark trip as he walked toward the kitchen, a bit of a hurry in his step. Bonnie chuckled lightly to herself and took another sip of wine, looking around at the living room. It was a mix-and-match of her belongings and Mark’s. They had only been living together for a couple of months and they still hadn’t struck a balance between their two aesthetics to make their house look more cohesive.

Bonnie sighed deeply. For the first time in a long time, she felt settled. Maybe even content. Whatever she felt, she didn’t think she’d be able to feel it again after Enzo. It had taken a few years and a lot of distance between herself and Mystic Falls to get to this place. Limited communication with Damon and Elena, with Alaric and Caroline; they only served to remind her all that she lost and keeping in regular contact with them would only eventually lead to more sacrifice on her part. She’d learned that lesson many times.

She’d met Mark during her travels around the world – in Istanbul, specifically. They were both lost in the city and it turned out they were trying to get to the same place. They spent all their time in the city together after that. Both of them were traveling though they were going to different places --- he backpacked while she enjoyed the best hotels each city could offer. They kept each other up to date on the various adventures they went on in various countries. Once they both made it back to the States, they decided to meet up, then they decided to date, then, three years later, they decided to move in together.

Bonnie laughed at hearing him whistle in the kitchen. He was a good man. Simple. He liked simple things. She opened her mouth to ask him how long he planned on taking, to tease him since history proved she didn’t need to be in the same room as him to seduce him, but a draught blew through the window and stilled her tongue. The breeze was a caress on her shoulders --- her legs erupted into goosebumps, a chill seeped through to her bones and left her breathless.

She had to go outside.

“Babe,” she called, putting down the glass. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Everything OK?” Mark called back from the kitchen.

           Bonnie stood up. “Yeah, I just have to go outside.”

           “Why?”

           Fucking hell, because! Bonnie’s swift and violent onset of impatience and irritation made her pause. There was no reason for such an aggressive reaction, even if silent, and its randomness both scared her and compelled her to see why she felt the need to go outside.

“Hun?” said Mark.

“Sorry, I just um – I think I forgot my shawl in the yard,” she said, walking to the front door.

Why was she lying to him?  

           “I can get---”

           “No, no! I want some fresh air anyway.”

           Bonnie opened the door and walked out of the bungalow, onto the lawn. Her eyes quickly swept the street dozens of times, looking for anything out of the ordinary; but nothing about her sleepy residential neighbourhood looked out of place.

           She shook her head and laughed. She must’ve imagined it or had more wine than she originally thought, a breeze was only ever a breeze, there was nothing ---

And then she felt it.

She looked to her right and a bearded man appeared, almost as if he materialized from shadows.

“Bonnie Bennett, as I live and breathe.”

Bonnie’s lips parted, she felt something inside of herself, a fire on her skin, a fire in her belly, a hatred and a - a - ferocity, a danger --- maybe even a longing? --- that felt awfully, terribly familiar and yet she didn’t recognize the man in front of her, didn’t recognize his knowing gaze or smug smirk, nothing about him registered in her mind but she felt compelled to hate him, even though she could feel that hatred met something different to them.

Finally, she spoke. She was going to say, “Do I know you?” but what came out was, “I don’t know who you are but I know you have ten seconds to get off my property.”

The man smiled at that. “Ah, I shouldn’t take it personally,” he said. “Malivore and all.”

That caught Bonnie’s attention. Malivore, whatever it was, was supernatural. Nope. Not today. She’d been done with the supernatural for years.

“I don’t know what witch business—”

“Oh no, no, no,” said the man, walking up to her, his eyebrows furrowed. The closer he came to her, the harder Bonnie’s heart started to pound. She had the irrational fear that he could hear it and she willed herself to not be so agitated, so bothered, so … hot. It was like her internal temperature rose.

“You think I came here for witch business?” His voice got soft. Dangerous. “I gave up something I’ve wanted to do for a long time to come here. To you.”

Bonnie didn’t know how she knew but she felt it in her bones that what he’d given up was some kind of evil. It infuriated her, which only served to inflame her more. What was this? Something she shouldn’t indulge, shouldn’t unleash. She should walk away. She should go back in the house, back to Mark, she’d been so content inside. Better yet, she should eviscerate him, this man she didn’t know, this man she wanted to kill and consume all at once.

“So, you know me?” she asked.

“You know, I know you.” He got closer to her. Only a few feet away now. “All these years and you can’t escape it.” He grinned, smug. Triumphant. “You don’t even know who I am and you can’t escape it.”

Oh, she hated him.

“You get any closer to me and I will hurt you,” said Bonnie through gritted teeth.

“Is that a promise?” He took another step. Bonnie swallowed hard.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been aching for you to hurt me, Bonnie Bennett.”

Cursed words. They thrilled her. They disgusted her.

“Who are you then?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

He walked even closer to her. “There’s no way in hell I’m telling you that and I’ve been to hell, many hells.”  He brushed his lips against her ear. “When you figure out my name, I promise you, you won’t be able to stop screaming it.”

Bonnie’s eyes fluttered. She pushed him away.

He was a stranger, she knew this, she had no recollection of him whatsoever in her mind, but her mind wasn’t the issue. She was so furious with herself that she could, she could ---

Bonnie seized Kai’s throat, her grip hard, her jaw clenched.

           He laughed. “Look at you,” he said. “You’ve been lusting for this for years.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“You’re awake now, Bonnie,” he said. “He’ll never be enough. Not now.”

Bonnie tightened her grip, moving forward so that she slammed him against the tree.

“You don’t know anything about him.”

“Only that he isn’t me,” he said. “And now that you’ve met me, that’s always going to be unsatisfying.”

“Shut up,” she warned through clenched teeth. “You know nothing about me.”

He bore his eyes into Bonnie’s and her breathing got shallow. She felt electrified with yearning and rage, desire and contempt. His body called to hers and she responded to him in a way that felt almost cosmic. She felt him before she even saw him. Everything within her screamed for him.

“I know the part of you you thought you’d never feel again even if you don’t remember it.”

He reached forward and started to undo the first button of Bonnie’s jeans, sprouting an ache between her legs. She let go of his throat and slapped his hand away, but as soon as she did, the ache pulsed, making her convulse, and she started unbuckling his belt with a nimbleness that surprised her. He went back to undoing the rest of her buttons and she hurriedly unzipped his fly.

Quickly, he put his hand into her waistband, slipping it beneath her underwear and made contact with her ache.

           They both gasped.

           “You don’t remember me but you remember this, don’t you?” he said, rubbing her.

           Bonnie’s legs trembled. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from mewling, her tooth piercing it so intensely, she thought she was going to bleed.

           “Don’t you?” he whispered in her ear, nipping her ear, circling his finger faster.

           Shit. She did. But she couldn’t make any sound of pleasure, she couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He must’ve read her mind.

           “Tell me you like this.”

           His rhythm became agonizingly slow.

           No! Please no! She pressed her lips together to keep from begging aloud but she could feel the neediness radiate from her. He knew how to torture her.

           “You like it,” he said. “Tell me.”

Nothing she’d felt had been anything like this --- she craved him with a hunger that she did her best to contain, but she wanted him inside of her but oh God, she wanted him inside of her. And she hated herself for it.

Even though Bonnie didn’t say anything, he leaned down to kiss her like a gut reaction, like he couldn’t hold out waiting for her to give in, but Bonnie stopped him by returning her hand to his throat, pinning him to the tree. He didn’t get to do that. He hadn’t earned that. She slipped her free hand beneath his waistband now, holding him, her lips parting at the intensity of his hardness.

He groaned, rich and deep. Her breath hitched. She stroked him, compelling him to massage her quicker. He made no effort to contain his sighs and pants and moans --- wet noises that agitated Bonnie’s own pleasure. As if it was all too much to witness and bear at the same time, he closed his eyes.  

“Look at me,” Bonnie demanded.

He moaned.

“You piece of shit, look at me.”

His eyes snapped open, hooded and cloudy. “I – fuck.”

This was wrong. So wrong. Dirty. Awful. She could feel it too --- her shame. But it felt too good for her to stop, to tell him to stop, for any of it to stop. She knew, even now, that she wanted more. She wanted it all. She ---

“Hmm.” Bonnie whimpered. She couldn’t help it. She was close. “Shit,” she moaned.

“Yes.” He smirked, his eyes alight with lust and vicious triumph. He didn’t take them off her. “Tell me you like it,” he said, his voice was breathy and greedy. He intensified his motions --- her legs were going to buckle.  

“Tell me you like it,” he insisted.

“I like – I ---” Bonnie was too overcome to finish her thought. Thank God. He would’ve won otherwise.

She climaxed, her muscles spasming around his finger, and she bit him hard on the shoulder as she released, feeling the satisfaction of him convulsing against her body as she pushed him over the edge.

There were a few moments of them slumped against each other, panting and jelly-legged, where there was nothing but oblivion and then --- Mark’s voice.

“This sure as fucking hell isn’t the backyard.”

[secretlysheikah]

Man and Mongrel 

Looming Shadows chapter 2

It is finally complete! This chapter gave me some troubles, but I wanted to share before I talked myself out of posting it. I really hope you all enjoy!

As always I do not claim any ownership over the Linked universe that honor belongs to @jojo56830

I am but a humble writer who lives in an angst pit. 

Start here:  

They were gone, just gone. Sky had sunk into the cold spring water and Wild was tossed into the portal like a rag doll and Twilight was barely aware of the world around him. All he knew was the portal, Dark and the cold spring water that soaked his clothes and helped weigh him down. Once Wild had disappeared Twilight had forced himself to his feet with an energy born from desperation. 

“Where are they?!” Twilight yelled from his place in the spring. No matter how he tried to move forward on his weak legs he could barely manage two steps before he would sway and stumble. But he tried, there was nothing else he could think of to do except try. Blood still dripped from his neck where the sword had sliced him and his whole body felt little better than a lead weight. His mind was a confused jumble of skittering thoughts and mindless exhaustion. He was fueled only by the need to somehow, someway get his lost brothers back. 

“Don’t worry wolf boy, I will make sure to take great care of your friends!” Dark called from his place facing the portal. He didn’t even bother to turn around and look him in the eye. 

“Who knows, maybe one of them will even be alive when I’m through. One can hope right?” Dark laughed as he made to walk through the portal. Breathing heavily and without a second of thought, Twilight scooped up a rock from the spring bed below and with all the strength he could gather hurled it at Dark’s head. To his immense surprise, it connected with a crack and Dark spun to face him. Twilight stood as straight as he could and balled his fists at his side as he called upon all the rage and frustration that had built up in him over the last week.

“Bring them back,” Twilight snarled, a little breathlessly. Dark glared back in kind and cracked his neck, his glare slowly turned into a devilish smile. In the blink of an eye, Dark was standing in front of him, his hand shot forward and wrapped around his bleeding throat and began to squeeze. Twilight choked and clawed at the iron grip as he was lifted from the water. Twilight heard Time cry out his name, heard him begin his unsteady way over to them but one quick hand motion from Dark had Time crashing into the water. He heard Warriors shout as well but another gesture from Dark had Time howling in agony and suddenly there was no more sound, no more signs of movement. Twilight’s vision was beginning to fade around the edges, but he could see the pointed grin plastered all over Dark’s face. 

“I know I promised myself that I’d kill you all slowly, but I’ll be damned if you aren’t making it hard to keep that promise,” Dark snarled his eyes blazing with bright red hatred. Twilight could barely draw breath, let alone speak but he made due with spitting in Dark’s face. Dark roared his displeasure and tossed him away with ease. He landed hard in the spring, his head colliding with the rocks that hid under the water, his lungs dragged in a slightly water logged breath and he coughed and gasped as black specks burst in his vision. Darkness continued to flood his vision and he drifted in the water, dazed as the world around him spun in slow motion, his limbs relaxing against his will. 

As he drifted he felt his hand brush against metal, his brain turned over the thought for a moment before it clicked. It was the metal of his discarded sword, in a moment he snapped back to the present. As Twilight rose from the water he shook his aching head to clear it and he scrambled to find the handle. Just as his fingers found the hilt of the sword a foot connected with his side with enough force to bruise his ribs. He gasped in pain and he clutched at his side and tried to rise but another brutal kick sent him sprawling back into the water. 

“You are really testing my patience pup.” Dark snarled as Twilight lifted himself up shakily on his elbows. 

“Fuck... You,” Twilight coughed out and Dark let out a bark of laughter. He felt Dark grab at the back of his neck and he had just enough presence of mind to suck in a quick breath before he felt his head being forced under the water. He struggled against the hold only to feel the grip tighten. His lungs burned with the need to breathe and he felt his body give an involuntary spasm. He could feel himself fading quickly, felt the water replace the air in his mouth and just as he was about to take a deep breath in he was pulled out of the water. He gasped and choked as he took in desperate drags of the air around him. It tasted like metal and wet leaves but the air that filled his lungs was the loveliest thing he had ever experienced.

“What’s the matter pup, you look a little pale.” Dark cooed as he let go of his neck. Twilight fell into the water and rolled to his side, every ounce of energy spent. His lungs burned with each new intake of air and his body shook with cold and overtaxed muscles.    

“Aw, come on wolf boy, where’s that defiance? That can do attitude?” Dark pouted and Twilight felt him punch his shoulder playfully. If he had the energy he would have decked him, but as it was all he could do was glare. 

“Don’t give up now, you really had me on the ropes,” Dark’s voice was full of  false encouragement, like he was trying to build up his confidence again. Twilight swallowed painfully and he felt more coughs rack his body as he expelled some of the water that had made its way into his lungs. Dark chuckled lightly as if laughing at the silly antics of a child, it made Twilight’s burn with an imputant rage. Dark stretched a lazy hand toward him again but stopped when an arrow zipped past his fingertips and buried itself between him and Twilight.  

“Touch him again, I dare you,” Warriors shouted, eyes blazing with so much anger that Twilight was sure that if looks could kill, Dark would be a smoldering pile of ash. Warriors stood in the ankle deep water, his narrow frame poised protectively in front of the collapsed heroes on the sandy bank. His arm was raised, bow in hand and another arrow nocked and ready to fire.  

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Dark asked, his voice dripping with contempt as he stood from his place next to Twilight. Warriors snarled and drew the arrow back just a bit farther. Dark took a half step forward having seemingly lost interest in Twilight all together.

“Leave this place now shadow, or else I will skewer you with arrows,” Warriors commanded, and Twilight could see the barest tremble in his hand that held the bow. 

“Come now, you aren’t even going to demand I bring your little friends back?” Dark groused and put his hands on his hips. 

“Why bother, we all know you consider this whole thing to be a game. You must think it entertaining, you bastard,” Warriors spat and Twilight noticed that the slight tremble was starting to grow more noticeable.         

“Not as stupid as you look.” Dark said as he gave a light stretch and a smile. Twilight thought his tone almost sounded bored if it wasn’t for the undercurrent of excited energy that colored his voice. “I should be on my way, I have left my guests alone for far too long as it is.” He finished and he began to stroll forward easily. Twilight felt his soul freeze over. No, he couldn’t leave, not now. With a superhuman effort, Twilight worked to get his tired body to obey his will.

“No, Wars, don’t let him leave!” Twilight cried from his place in the water and he clawed desperately at the stones beneath him. His heart raced in panic, the only link connecting them to the others was standing right in front of him and they couldn't just let him leave.

“Be quiet Twi,” Warriors hissed, his eyes never leaving Dark. Dark for his part seemed to be enjoying the attention. 

“Wars, please, that bastard is our only chance to get Sky and Wild back,” Twilight pleaded but Warriors face only hardened more. 

“Enough! Stop begging like a dog, it’s what he wants,” Warriors spat and Twilight recoiled, stung by the rebuke. Warriors refused to look his way and Dark laughed openly at the exchange. 

“So callous! I expected something better coming from a captain of the royal guard.” Dark’s voice had a trill of amusement winding through his words.  

“Leave now, I will not give you another chance.” Warriors sneered, openly ignoring the jab that had been sent his way. 

A bright defiance filled Twilight’s heart and he worked all the more to get his feet under him but it was no use. He was too weak from the near drowning and from whatever poison Dark had cursed them all with. Dark didn’t say anything, just gave a little bow to Warriors before he walked off towards the portal. Twilight just managed to get to his knees when Dark reached the portal, turned and addressed them all. 

“It has truly been a pleasure, I can’t wait to see you all again, very, very soon. I’ll send your regards to your friends. Ta for now!” And with one last jaunty wave and a wink towards Twilight he stepped backwards into the portal and both man and doorway disappeared. 

******

Once the doorway disappeared Warriors dropped his arm, relaxed his tense grip on his bow and sucked in a deep breath of the metal tinged air. He didn’t want to admit it but he was glad that the shadowy bastard was gone. At that thought Warriors felt guilt tingle at the edge of his heart. That bastard had turned Sky against them, had toyed with and then kidnapped Wild and he had just let him go, and he was glad? Warriors forced the thought away, it wasn’t helpful to their current situation. Rising above the silence left behind by Dark’s exit, Warriors heard a soft, half choked voice rise from the spring just in front of him.  

“Wars, how could you?” Twilight whispered from his place in the water. Warriors couldn’t look his way, couldn’t face the pain and betrayal that laid there. He felt himself shutting down, locking away his emotions until later when he had time and quiet. The group didn’t need emotions, they needed a direction and a new plan. Slipping easily into command mode he turned away from Twilight and addressed Four who was in the process of standing. 

“Are you able to help the others into the spring?” Warriors asked tersely and at Four’s slow nod Warriors put away his bow and strode over to Wind who still hadn’t moved. He squatted down next to the boy and brushed his bangs away from his face. His eyelids twitched as he slept and Warriors didn’t want to think about what dreams Dark had forced on him. In one smooth motion he scooped up Wind and walked back into the cold spring water. He heard stumbling footsteps behind him but he didn’t turn around. 

Warriors could feel Twilight’s hard gaze on him but he didn’t acknowledge the glare. Instead he walked Wind over to Time and knelt down. Time looked rough, his breathing was labored and he was shaking hard enough that small ripples formed in the water around him. Warriors wasn’t sure if that was due to the cold water or from pain but either option had him grinding his teeth. This shouldn’t have happened and Warriors felt the cold shard in his heart grow.     

“Time, can you hold him for me? I need to help the others into the spring,” Warriors whispered as he swallowed back his hateful thoughts. Time took a steadying breath and sat down fully in the water, holding out his arms expectantly. Warriors hesitated for a moment before he carefully handed Wind over, keeping hold of him until he was sure Time had a proper grasp on him. When Wind settled in Time’s arms and came fully into contact with the cold spring water he gasped and jerked awake. 

“Oh, ah, what... What the fuck,” Wind muttered as he grabbed at the sides of his head and curled in on himself.

“Language,” Time sighed softly but there wasn’t any real rebuke behind it. He just sounded tired and sad.  

“How do you feel?” Warriors asked carefully and Wind cracked an eye open and gave him a flat look. 

“Like sunshine and ocean spray, what do you think?” Wind said with so much sarcasm and spite that Warriors couldn’t help but be impressed that he was able to muster the energy for it. 

“Good to know kid, I’ll be right back,” Warriors said with a forced laugh as he ruffled Wind’s hair. Wind grimaced and batted at Warrior’s hand irritably as he made to sit up but fell back against Time with a moan. Four and Hyrule came splashing up next to them shortly after and they both landed in the water with weary sighs, clearly spent. 

Warriors bit back his grimace, and forced his face into a stoic calm as he splashed over to where Legend was struggling to stand on the sandy beach. Once he was close enough he grabbed Legend’s arm and helped him stumble his way into the water. Their progress was slow and Warriors could see just how much Legend was struggling. Even with his support Legend seemed to stumble over every stone. His thin frame shuddered with the effort to stay standing and his breathing was distressingly labored. It would seem that the Vet had gotten a larger dose of magic than the others. Warriors grimaced to himself as he puzzled out why that would be. 

He supposed It made sense in a way, considering Legend had acted as the main healer for Wild, he had a lot of contact with that tar. It was a devilish plan, aim for the healers while also weakening and ultimately destroying the group when the healers are down and out? It was damn clever, and thinking about it, it’s a plan he would have considered using as well if he was in Dark’s shoes. Warriors footsteps faltered slightly as they walked, a bad taste filled his mouth as he realized he was in some odd way congratulating Dark on his plan. Warriors ground his teeth, he hated himself for even thinking that way. At the very least he should have seen this coming, he should have guessed that Dark would have no qualms about using a tactic as barbaric as this. He shook his head, poisoned pawn indeed. 

His mind worked ceaselessly as he and Legend hobbled through the deepening water and finally made it to the small group. Twilight had finally stumbled over to the group as well, he was bloodied and soaking wet and looking absolutely furious. Warriors lowered Legend into the chilly water as gently as he could before he straightened and faced Twilight, readying himself for the blow up. 

“You let him go,” Twilight accused, emphasizing the words with sharp jabs of his finger towards Warrior’s chest.    

“And what should I have done? Fight him? Gotten hurt in the process then let him leave? Please tell me, I’m curious” Warriors steamed as he clenched his fists at his sides. 

“You could have tried to stop him! You could have...” Twilight cried out and Warriors snorted loudly, interrupting the tirade.

“Okay, lets say I could have stopped that crazy fuck? Then what?” Warriors shouted and it took all his will power not to shake Twilight. He drew himself back a step and pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few steadying breaths before continuing.  

“I would have had to have somehow over power him, tie him up and then somehow keep him in line while also giving you all the time to heal up. All this is in the vague hope that I would also have been able to somehow get him to comply with our demands,” Warriors said, feeling exasperated and frustrated. Frustrated with Twilight and his refusal to think logically, frustrated at Dark, at himself for not being able to do more. After a steadying breath he lifted his eyes to look at Twilight, he could see the pain that was swirling in his tired cobalt blue eyes. 

There was silence for a beat as they locked eyes and he waited for Twilight’s response. He had expected more yelling, or maybe even stony silence but what he wasn’t expecting was Twilight to suddenly lurch forward and take a swing at him. It was clumsy and slow and clearly not well thought out. Warriors blamed the poison he had been exposed as well as the stress of the past hour, but that didn’t mean he was going to take the blow sitting down. Warriors shifted his weight and easily knocked Twilight’s arm to the side before grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm up and behind his back. Twilight struggled in his grasp but Warriors didn’t let up, he wrapped his free arm across Twilight’s chest and held him close. 

“Stop, just stop Twi,” Warriors growled deep in his throat. He really didn’t want to hurt him but Twilight continued to struggle. Warriors grimaced and hiked Twilight’s arm higher up, forcing him to stop squirming.  

“Listen to me Twi, I know you’re hurting but I will not hesitate to knock you flat on your ass, you need to calm down.” Warriors said as calmly as he could manage. Twilight was still trying to struggle but it was a failing endeavor. He was just on the edge of gasping for air and Warriors could feel the way his constant struggling was weakening as the seconds ticked by. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not good enough to single handedly fight, capture and force a psychopath to follow our demands,” Warriors said furiously when after another minute of silence only offered more stubborn struggling. 

“Let me go,” Twilight said in a breathless hiss and even though Warriors knew he wouldn’t be able to see it he shook his head. 

“Not a chance, not until you calm down,” Warriors said, his voice came out in a desperate whisper as he continued to hold Twilight close. After another few seconds of struggling Twilight gave a howl of rage that quickly dissolved into a choked sob. Warriors felt Twilight’s legs finally give out and he had to adjust his grip in order not to drop Twilight into the water. 

In one quick motion he spun him around and encircled him into a tight embrace. Twilight made no move to reciprocate the hug but Warriors didn’t mind. He could feel Twilight holding back his misery and Warriors felt woefully unqualified to offer any sort of emotional support. In war you had little time to process anything, let alone emotions when in the midst of battle. Even after the battle was done and he was back at camp he often would disappear into his tent safely out of view of his troops so he could process the day in peace. When you were looked up to lead it didn’t do anyone any good to see you crack. 

So when he joined up with this little band of heroes from the past and future alike he found he had little experience in comforting others. He would often leave that up to Sky or Hyrule but given that Sky was now gone and Hyrule was barely conscious and unable to help, Warriors was on his own. He felt distinctly out of his element and he silently cursed himself for having the emotional awareness of a potato. All he could think to do was squeeze Twilight a little tighter and hoped it would be enough for now. 

“Come on soldier, let's sit down,” He whispered quietly into Twilight’s ear and he could feel the barest nod against his shoulder. Carefully he lowered them both into the spring and he felt a shiver run through his bones. The day was coming to an end and the spring was bathed in the last dregs of golden twilight. He could feel the air around them growing cold and he hoped they didn’t have to wait too long in the quickly chilling water. Still Twilight said nothing and when Warriors pulled away from the embrace to look at his face all he could see were dull blue eyes. Twilight it appeared had shut down and that worried him. He had seen it happen in war before and the outcome was rarely good.  

“How long do we have to sit here?” Came a shaky voice from just behind him and Warriors turned to see Wind sitting next to Time, his teeth were beginning to chatter. Stealing himself he turned his attention back to Twilight. 

“You know this spring better than any of us, how does it work?” He asked and was met with a dead eye stare and a slow blink. He paused and tried again.  

“Do we have to pray? Do we just sit here and wait? What do we do?” Warriors persisted and when he still got no reply he felt his temper running short.

“Come on! Snap out of it! We need this spring to heal and you’re the only one who knows how to use it. Please we can’t sit here all night.” Warriors said and he gave Twilight a little shake for emphasis. 

“He’s right pup, you’ve got to come back to us,” Time ventured cautiously and Twilight sighed and closed his eyes. A visible shudder racked his frame and he slouched ever so slightly before opening his eyes once again to stare at his own rippling reflection in the water. Warriors thought his eyes still seemed faded and dulled but now there was something sharp, mean even, in the glare that Twilight gave himself.   

“They’re gone, and I allowed the one person who could bring them back to escape. I might as well have just tossed them through that portal myself,” Twilight whispered bitterly as he bowed his head and prodded at the edges of the slice on his throat.     

That quiet whisper was so full of pain and self-reproach that he felt himself flinch slightly. Warriors didn’t know how to even begin to respond to Twilight’s comment. Anything he could have offered to him now would best case scenario be ignored outright, or worst case scenario get him a punch to the mouth. He looked to the others to see if they had anything to offer but it was apparent they hadn’t heard exactly what was said. Warriors leaned in close, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I promise, we will get them back. But we need to heal, rest and regroup first. Just...” Warriors started but he didn’t know how to continue. He had given more than his fair share of rousing speeches to embolden his troops when the going got tough, but this was different. He wasn’t trying to convince a battalion, this was his brother. His brother, who was clearly struggling and hurting in a way that he couldn’t even properly express and Warriors didn’t have the slightest clue how to proceed. He didn’t know how to convince a broken man to keep on moving. 

“Just one step at a time,” Warriors whispered imploringly, and squeezed his shoulder ever so slightly. There was a moment when he thought Twilight had just ignored him once again. He hadn’t made a move to acknowledge his words, so he was shocked when Twilight met his gaze. Warriors could see something new sparking in his eyes and Warriors wasn’t sure if he entirely liked that spark. Twilight gave Warriors a tight nod before he slowly got to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” Warriors asked as Twilight wobbled slightly. 

“I’m going to ask for some help,” Twilight said in a monotone, before squaring his shoulders and walking deeper into the spring without another look back. 

********

The air was indeed growing chill as the night crept in around them but Twilight still felt numb and empty. The water grew colder the further into the spring he went but he paid it no mind, it didn’t matter. He could feel eyes on his back, knew they were watching him closely but even that knowledge couldn’t shake the numbness. One step and then the next and before he knew it he felt the thrum of magic at the heart of the spring rumbling through his boots. 

Head bowed, he waited for the spirit of the spring. During his adventure he often would call upon the spirit of the spring for advice or help. But after his quest had ended, the spirit appeared less and less and oftentimes not at all. 

Honestly he was surprised that it had manifested enough to heal Wild at all. Twilight swallowed hard as he remembered how the black smoke poured out from his protégé and his subsequent collapse into the water. He stopped himself before he could tread back over the events immediately afterwards, he couldn’t bear to look at his own failure again just then. 

He watched the water darken with the fading light. The spring seemed lifeless in a way, cold and dead, and his mind pondered the fate of the spirit that resided there. Would it fade into oblivion, or was it merely sleeping? But that was a question to ponder another day. He gave himself a light shake and rolled his shoulders before he spoke quietly into the open air.

“Ordona, can you hear me?” Twilight ventured timidly, as he waited for a response he feared would never come. The wind whistled through the trees, leaves broke away and landed in the water around him. He could hear the other’s shifting in the water behind him. It took a few minutes for the response to whisper through the air and he was both relieved and terrified in equal measures.  

“Little hero, you have seen better days,” Came a gentle voice from all around him. He didn’t lift his head, he couldn’t even bring himself to respond. His heart gave a painful beat and he had to swallow down the lump that formed in his throat. 

“I apologize for today’s events. Truly if I had had another choice I would not have bothered you then or even now for that matter,” Twilight said thickly, his throat felt raw and tight. 

“Why do you apologize? Your calls for help are not a bother. Nor did you have control over the actions of the shadow and his conniving plans,” Ordona’s voice placated gently and Twilight wanted to recoil at the gentle tone. He did nothing to earn their patience, their kindness. There was a weight in the air around him and he felt a pressure building softly all around him. It was gentle and warm and oddly comforting, like a hug. 

“You place too much weight on your own shoulders, you are not responsible for the actions of others, and I hold no ill will towards you or the other heroes,” Ordona soothed and Twilight could feel hot tears streak down his cold cheeks. He didn’t deserve this kindness, he didn’t...   

“That will be enough of that, little hero.” The voice interrupted his downward spiral with ease. Twilight took in a shuddering breath as he tried to bring himself back to the spring, instead of throwing himself down a rabbit hole of despair. He dug his fingernails into his palm in order to ground himself back in the present. The pressure around him built just a little more and he felt himself calm slightly.  

“Do not lose heart and do not allow your courage to falter for you and your fellows are stronger than you realize.” Twilight lifted his head at that last statement but made no move to interject. He could feel the tingle of magic filtering in from all around him. There was a pale glow in the water around him just as it had done for Wild, but it was noticeably dimmer than before.  

“I may not be as powerful as I was, but I shall heal you and your fellows to the best of my abilities,” Ordona’s voice became a whisper on the wind. All Twilight could manage was a weak ‘thank you’ as he felt the warm glow of healing magic gently wash away whatever poison lingered in his veins.

“I am here whenever you are in need.” 

And just like that the spirit of the spring was gone, and the group was left alone in the dying light of day with only the whisper of wind to fill the air around them. Twilight turned around slowly and he felt the world spin causing him to catch himself as he stumbled. He was so incredibly tired and sore, and he supposed it was a mixture of stubbornness and spite that kept him on his feet at this point. He could see the glow in the water around the others, they all had their eyes closed as they each received the divine healing Ordona gifted to them. Warriors looked over from his place next to Legend, as he helped him stay in a sitting position. Twilight held his gaze and offered a small nod which Warriors returned stiffly before he turned his gaze back on to Legend. Twilight sloshed his way back over to the group at large, taking care not to slip on the slick rocks under foot.

“How are they?” He asked Warriors as the healing light began to fade. The others looked about the same as before but he did notice that some tension had bled away from all of them. Warriors opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Legend. 

“I feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff,” Legend slurred from his place in the water as he opened one eye to look around him. When he noticed who was supporting him he made an effort to sit up on his own, before he paused and flopped back onto Warriors, thinking better of his choice to move. Warriors lifted an eyebrow towards Twilight and he offered a small shrug in return.

“Well how about the rest of you?” Warriors called out and received varying replies claiming the same thing. They felt beat up and tired but otherwise better than before. Twilight supposed it could have been worse. 

“What about you Twi?” Warriors asked, his crystal blue eyes searching Twilight’s own cobalt blues as he waited for his response. Truthfully, he felt like he could sleep for about a week straight if he had the chance, and he knew that in the morning he was probably going to feel a more prominent ache. But that was something for him to deal with later, the others were more important. 

“I feel fine, I’ll be fine,” He answered blandly and Warriors offered him a squint in response. It was clear he wasn’t buying it but it seemed like he wasn’t going to call him out for his lie either. 

“Is everyone okay to move?” Twilight asked tiredly and was met with a chorus of equally tired nods and groans in affirmation. 

“Perfect, let’s get out of the water before we all freeze,” He said, rubbing his hands together to regain some of the heat he had lost. 

“Good idea, I can start a fire and if we find a relatively safe spot we can all rest without...” Warriors began but Twilight was already shaking his head. A low tired chuckle worked its way free from his throat. 

“I have a better idea, follow me.” He said as he bent down and helped Four to his feet. Twilight shot Warriors a glance from the corner of his eye as he moved on to help Hyrule to his feet. Warriors had a skeptical look plastered across his fine features and Twilight fought down a stab of annoyance that bloomed his chest. 

It took a few minutes to get everyone on their feet and moving away from the spring and down the road. Before heading off on their way Twilight took stock of the group. By far the ones the worst for wear were their healers Legend and Hyrule. They both looked dead on their feet and Twilight worried they wouldn’t make it the short trip down the road. He apparently wasn’t alone in his assessment because Warriors took one look at them and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m going to carry one of you. Who will it be?” Warriors asked with a steely look in his eye. Legend raised a brow and jerked his thumb towards Hyrule. 

“Take ‘Rule, he needs it more than me, I can manage,” Legend said pointedly ignoring the glare Hyrule sent his way. Warriors nodded and knelt down in front of Hyrule and waited for him to climb on his back. Twilight nodded easily and moved to stand in front of Legend.

“Come on Legend, you’re up,” He said and Legend balked. 

“I’ll be just fine, I’m not a child,” He sneered and Twilight leveled a stern look at him. Without another word he gently poked Legend and watched as he stumbled and nearly fell. 

“Yeah, just fine. Quit being an obstinate ass and let me help you.” Twilight snapped and after a few more minutes of tired arguing Twilight was hefting Legend up on his back. Once everyone was situated comfortably Twilight lit his lantern and took the lead as he led them down the pathway. 

It was only a matter of about ten minutes of walking to get to their destination. Nestled amongst the trees of the clearing was the treehouse Twilight called home. A wave of nostalgia crashed over him at the sight as he looked at the roughly carved wood of the ladder. Memories floated in and out of head as he took in the sight of his home. He remembered when he had to fix some of the rungs on the ladder after one of the kids had used it as a springboard of sorts and broke it. He shook his head as more memories flitted around his tired thoughts and began walking towards the ladder. 

As they approached Twilight had the ridiculous feeling of self-consciousness settle on his shoulders. He had left in a hurry and he didn’t quite remember how he had left the place. He hoped it wasn’t too messy.  It had been months since he’s been home and he was both excited and nervous at the same time. Once they reached the base of the tree he turned to face the group. 

“Welcome to my home, it’s small, but there should be enough room for everyone,” Twilight said as he hung his lantern on a hook next to the ladder. Its light was enough to illuminate the rungs before them. Time eyed the ladder carefully as if he was worried about it supporting their weight. Twilight caught his eye and offered a wan smile. Time offered his own encouraging smile and gestured for him to lead the way. He nodded and jostled Legend to get his attention. 

“Alright, I’m going to climb up, make sure you have a grip,” Twilight warned as he faced the ladder. He waited a moment and heard a tired sigh from Legend and the distinct feeling of hands being buried in the pelt on his back. 

Twilight made quick work of the ladder and pushed the door open to the darkened room. The hinges gave a low moan as if they too were tired. The house smelled lightly of dust and earth and the floorboards creaked with each step. Twilight walked over to a chair covered in blankets and as gently as he could dropped Legend onto the plush surface. Legend gave a light sneeze as dust puffed out from his landing but made no other comment. Twilight grimaced but forced the urge to clean to the back of his mind. He could hear the others making their slow way up the ladder and he wanted to get the fire started. 

He walked through the darkened house with ease and grabbed some wood from next to the fireplace and struck a match. The fire was slow to build and he nursed it as he called out for the others to make themselves at home. He could hear the others as they fanned out through the dimly lit bottom floor of the house. Someone collided with the edge of the table just behind him and he snickered as  that was followed by a string of curses. He forced his amusement down but didn’t bother to turn around, instead he gave instructions on where to find more blankets and to where the pantry was. 

After about ten minutes the room was filled with light and warmth and various sleeping spaces were set up all over the floor. When Twilight was satisfied that everyone had changed clothes, had some food and were resting comfortably he gathered up all the wet clothes and hung them up to dry by the fire.

“Twi, come and rest. You look like you’re about ten seconds away from collapsing,” Four called out to him from underneath a pile of spare pelts one of them had found in an old chest in the basement. Twilight offered him a smile and a little shake of his head. 

“I’m fine, I just want to get some fresh air before it gets too late,” He said easily and Four gave him a quick once over before he nodded and laid down. Everyone seemed to be in different states of rest and sleep. Legend hadn’t moved from the chair that he had dropped him in when they first arrived. Hyrule had somehow managed to squeeze himself next to Legend on the chair, and then someone, Time probably, had draped a thick blanket over them both. They were sleeping peacefully, Legend had an arm thrown over Hyrule’s shoulder and Hyrule was curled up as best he could with the space provided.

Time was slumped over where he leaned against the wall nearest the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest and head leaned up against the wall. His slow breaths ruffled the hair that fell over his face. Twilight walked over quietly and laid a thick blanket across his mentor’s shoulders and surreptitiously checked his forehead for any signs of fever. Time had spent a fair amount of time in the water and Twilight wouldn’t be surprised if he fell ill. Hell if Time did get sick, he would probably go on to deny it too. Twilight didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry at that thought, he couldn’t bear it if one of them got sick on top of everything else that was happening. 

He turned to face the room again and scanned it finding the dark corner where Wind and Warriors were laying against a small pile of blankets. Wind was wrapped up in the Captain’s scarf and breathing steadily, the occasional twitch signaling that he was dreaming. He couldn’t see the Captain’s face, but judging on his body language it appeared that he too was fast asleep. Twilight let out a small huff of relief and very carefully slipped out of the tree house. 

He didn’t go far, just a little ways out into the woods where he could see the light of familiar stars above him. The forest around him was quiet, the only sounds were his feet crunching of leaves, small rocks, the splash of water as he trod through puddles and the hoot of an owl. Before too long he found a place to rest and he sat down gratefully. The fallen log wasn’t the most comfortable place to rest but he didn’t much care just then. He just wanted to be left alone, just for an hour and then he would go back. 

He leaned down resting his upper body on the tops of his legs and let his head dangle. He was tired, so very tired but he felt like he couldn’t rest. His brain while feeling empty and numb was also a buzzing bee’s nest. However there was no variety in his thoughts just the same loop on repeat. No time to waste, find and destroy Dark, get the other two back, better hurry. He stared blankly at a puddle at his feet, the dark water reflected the stars above and he watched them flicker and spark in endless twinkling. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that but he was sure it wasn’t an hour when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming his way. He sighed, he probably should be concerned but at that point he almost wished a bokoblin would show up just so he had something else to focus on rather than the endless looping thoughts.

“So this is where you disappeared to,”

Twilight tilted his head to the side to look at the newcomer with bleary eyes. It took a moment but it didn’t take long for the slender figure standing before him coalesce into a bedraggled Warriors. Twilight eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. His hair was mussed, shirt rumpled and missing his blue scarf as well as looking as exhausted as Twilight felt. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Warriors asked as he rubbed at his eyes. Twilight just offered him a snort in response before letting his head fall forward again to resume staring blankly at the puddle between his feet. 

“So what, you’re just going to sit out here and mope?” Warriors pressed, his voice holding a forced levity that rubbed against Twilight’s frayed nerves. He could feel Warriors weight settle on the log next to him. A tiny bubble of anger threatened to burst in his chest and he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. 

“What can I say I have a lot on my plate,” He said bitterly, he could feel Warriors stare on his back but he refused to lift his eyes. 

“You aren’t alone you know,” Warriors said softly and Twilight balled his fists in his pants. 

“Could have fooled me,” Twilight muttered, his stare so intense he was surprised that the puddle hadn’t boiled away. 

“That’s not fair Twilight,” Warriors said reproachfully “We did our best, there wasn’t much for us to do. We will get them back. Honestly what is the matter with you?” He asked and Twilight sat up fully and finally turned his way. He desperately wanted to snap and yell at him, but one look at Warriors tired eyes stopped him. He took a steadying breath and focused on keeping himself calm.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m feeling, Goddess I don’t even know,” He sighed and put his head in his hands.  

“I guess it’s like I’m a dog worrying away at a bone...” Twilight said, feeling as Warriors shifted uncomfortably next to him. Twilight couldn’t look his way, a strange mix of anger and sadness pulled at his thoughts and he just wanted to be alone.

“I need to apologize to you Twilight. I should have never addressed you like that,” Warriors said as he too leaned forward on his elbows and stared out into the forest. Twilight felt an odd sense of surprise at the apology, he never thought he would get one. They didn’t speak for a little while, the only noise that filled the space between them was the wind whistling softly through the trees. 

“You know, I don’t make it a habit of telling people what I can do.” Twilight said softly, lifting his head so he could rest his chin on his hands. Warriors said nothing as he waited for Twilight to continue.

“The few people that have found out, either through the grapevine or rumors or what have you, have without fail have made subtle jokes about me being nothing better than a dog.” Twilight began emotionlessly. He could feel Warriors turning to look his way, but he didn’t want to look at him. Instead he continued.  

“Some have openly called me a mongrel. Hell, I’ve even had rocks thrown at me.” He paused for a moment when he heard Warriors soft exclamations of anger but only shook his head.

“Don’t hold it against them, they associate me with a beast, a mindless killer that decimates livestock and makes their lives difficult.” Twilight said softly. 

“That doesn’t make it right,” Warriors continued hotly and Twilight could only nod slowly. 

“No it doesn’t, but I have come to terms with it.Sure I feel free when I allow myself to transform, but I tell no one about it if I can help it. This ability of mine, it is my burden to bear alone. Or it was until I met this little band of misfits.” He said with a sad little chuckle. 

He glanced over at Warriors and noticed that he was biting his lip. He could see Warriors running through the early months of their adventure where he would disappear on ‘patrols’ only to have a wolf wander into camp, and watch until he would ‘return’ from his ‘patrol’. It had taken a lot of courage and a nip of alcohol, but eventually he had finally come clean about his ability. Twilight remembered how he couldn’t meet eyes with anyone in the group for days. Now with this new information out in the open it was clear that Warriors understood why now. Twilight’s throat felt dry and he swallowed roughly but found he couldn’t continue.     

“I’m sorry, I truly am. If I had known, what you’ve been through… Well, I just  hope you can forgive me for my poor word choice. I also hope you understand that I will do everything in my power to get our brothers back. I wish there could have been more I could have done, but, I...” Warriors started but Twilight leaned back and gently clapped him on his shoulder, stopping him mid sentence. 

“I do forgive you, it’s not like you guys were aware of that particular part of my history.  And I hope you can forgive me for acting poorly. They’re my brothers, but they are your brothers as well. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you stood idly by,” Twilight said with a soft smile that slowly morphed into a little grimace. 

“I also shouldn’t have tried to punch you in the face, I’m sorry about that too,” He finished lamely as he coughed lightly into his hand. Warriors couldn’t hide the small smile that turned the corners of his mouth up. 

“We will get them back, but first we need to rest. You especially Twi,” Warriors said firmly, his hand coming to rest on Twilight’s back. He felt himself sag forward slightly, Warriors was right. He felt completely drained and he would be lying if he said sleeping in his own bed didn’t sound nice. His eyes drifted to the puddle again and he watched the starlight flicker and dance. 

He watched curiously as he saw something shift in the water. He squinted and he thought he could see a faint outline of a silhouette deep in its depths. He leaned closer to get a better look but just as he thought he could make out a flash of bright blue eyes, ripples suddenly burst across the surface of the puddle and obscured the image. Twilight pulled himself to his feet before he knelt next to the puddle and waited for the ripples to subside. Warriors made noises of curiosity but Twilight waved him off. After a minute the ripples finally calmed but all he could see in the still water was twinkling stars.

“Twi, are you okay?” Warriors asked tentatively as Twilight slowly got to his feet. He wasn’t sure himself to be honest. He wasn’t sure what he had just seen was his mind playing tricks, or if, somehow, he had just seen cub in the puddle. Twilight shook his head, he must have been seeing things, but still the thought lingered. 

“I’m fine, I just thought I saw... I don’t know, I must be more tired than I thought.” Twilight said dismissively. Warriors gave him a skeptical look but slowly nodded his head. 

“Alright, how about we head back to your house. I think it’s time for us to get some rest,” Warriors said with a yawn. Twilight offered his own yawn and nodded as he stumbled forward slowly. Warriors wrapped his arm around his shoulders and together they made their slow way back to the others who were slumbering peacefully back at the house.

[rachywritessomething]

Part 1

Sava didn’t like the desert.

She knew she wasn’t made for it. It was too bright and even as the world slowly turned itself to something cooler and not quite so unforgiving, the desert was still too harsh for even a creature like herself. Yet she had no desire for anything, so she followed Leo as he went digging in the sand with the rest of the caravan, their numbers searching for something of the world before.

It wasn’t all bad. Sava had only to sit on the ruins of some wall and keep her bloody eyes out for anything that could hurt Leo. There were lots of things that could hurt the little man: the crawlers in the sand, the stones of the walls at risk of falling, even thieves and other treasure hunters. The last of which rarely dared pass a second glance at the man when they realized who was casting a shadow over him.

Or rather, what.

Sava knew people didn’t like her. It had been something she had grown to accept as the years drug on. In this century at least she could keep enough memory to be mindful of the things they hated most about her. They didn’t like her bloody eyes, they didn’t like her cold skin -though that was becoming ever warmer by the decade- and they didn’t like her imposing size. One of Leo’s forefathers had once explained that she was made to be large, towering, and terrible, it was what gave her purpose.

At least she could remember things now. Many memories of her first years were only of her maker calling her by name and laughing.

Leo didn’t look like her maker. He was a spindly man who was far too gentle for making abominations. But just as his ancestor, he kept her around for protection and used her when ugly things had to be done. Sava wasn’t sure if she hated the man. There was a word an elf once used toward her… contempt, yes. Perhaps she felt contempt for Leo.

It didn’t matter though. She did not want to leave any more than she wanted to stay, so she remained where she was, obedient and becoming ever more intelligent with every new generation of charges.

“Sava, come down.”

The spindly man waved at her from the bottom of the trench. The diggers around him barreled the sand away from the hole they were forming so they could search for… what was it they were looking for? She wasn’t sure they had ever told her what it was and the more she considered it, the more sense it made to her that they wouldn’t have. The thought that she had not forgotten something but rather made an assumption almost made her smile. I’m learning...

Sava pushed herself off the high wall and fell thirty feet to the bottom of the trench, landing in a crouch that split the knees of her canvas pants. The barrel pushers parted for her as she walked over to Leo.

“I need you to go into the cavern,” he said, looking up at her through squinted eyes. His were the sort of dark that would do well in the garish light, probably the kind eyes that had come with her original form before they were damaged and bloodied. The thought of having beautiful, dark eyes like that had been a fleeting fantasy of hers, fleeting only because she realized that she did have those eyes, she would not be able to see them as often.

Sava looked beyond the man though, along the trench and to the place where the barrel pushers appeared to be ascending from. Then she looked back to him.

“What for?” There were many long years of dumb silence behind her that made the rattle of her own voice in her chest feel pleasent. It was hard to form many words at once, but she supposed in another century, she would be able to speak in long, poetic phrases and prattle until her voice faded.

“It smells like shit down there and no one else will do it,” Leo said impatiently. “You don’t have much of a nose for that kind of thing anyway.”

Sava flared her nostrils. “Like shit?”

“Not actual shit. It’s something else but it’s bad.” Leo grabbed her arm and pulled her in the direction of the chasm, parting even more of the barrel pushers. Sava watched them, feeling something close to satisfaction at watching them hurry past her out of fear.

The pit was more orderly than Sava had anticipated. There was a ramp spiraling down into the shadowy place, completely taken up by the workers and they would not have enough space to avoid her.

“Smells fine to me,” Sava said.

“Not this.” Leo gestured into the chasm impatiently. “The tunnel at the bottom. Go down and make sure nothing’s dying in there.”

Sava studied him, looking for a fear that would alert her to how cautious she should be. Not that Leo was the best human to gauge; his instinct was not as heightened as some of his ancestors. “Dying things can smell like shit.”

“Will you hurry up?”

Sava shrugged and checked her belt for the dagger before ruffling her human’s hair. “I will find the dying thing,” she promised before leaping into the pit.

This distance was jarring but Sava rolled on impact, settling on her hands and knees and peering into the tunnel, leading down into the bowels of the earth. Several excavators stood at the entry, and all of them stared at her with mixed expressions of fear, hatred, and disgust.

Sava stood and strode past them, ducking as she stepped into the tunnel. The small gathering took a step back, widening away from her as if she was the one who emitted the foul stench. Something was rotting though, and it was something she was only dimly familiar with.

One thing Sava realized about humans was their utter reliance on their eyesight. She herself was guilty of it often though she had plenty of other perfectly capable senses. She did not need a light in the dark because she could hear the length of the hallway by the way her breath echoed, she could feel the tremors of the solid stone under the soles of her boots, she could taste the age of a place untouched by the outside until today.

And she could smell a dying thing.

There was a difference between the dead and dying, though she had trouble distinguishing exactly what it was.

The tunnel angled downward, becoming ever more musky and untouched. Dust moved under her feet.

The stench reached that undeniable closeness when the corridor opened into a room. Sava stepped down three steps and into a circular chamber. Her eyes, growing used to the dark, made out the faint outlines of drawings on the walls. They, like the stench, were oddly familiar, and she brushed her hand over the wall until she found what she was looking for. Her fingers fell over a switch and flipped it up almost out of instinct.

Nothing happened.

Sava shrugged and stepped into the room, her eyes making out the details of a desk or a box in the middle, as if it was on display. It rose as high as her hips and was easily seven feet long, its width half that. When she ran her fingers over it, she found it was cold metal beneath a thick, sticky layer of dust.

She crouched down, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and felt the side of the structure until she found a small lip. It was almost perfect, but age and use had made it a little more evident. A little more searching and she found the partial curve of hinges.

Sava had found that with her retention of memory and the ability to accumulate knowledge was the occasional bout of curiosity. It was a very human sensation and it was one that led men to peril more often than reward, but still it was a powerful magic and as such, she gave into it when it came about. It was not just an investigative obligation, but a desire to throw herself into the perilous unknown.

It took no deliberation for her to round the box and fling it open.

The stench that had been pungent before hit her, choking her and making her reel back, gagging. Her eyes watered to the point of blindness and she hunched over, her body threatening to retch up the flavorless rations Leo had given her.

When she had enough bearing to stand up straight, she approached the box and peered into it, holding her breath. What she had expected before was a dying thing, what she knew awaited her was the decay after death. What she saw was neither.

The thing inside the box was decaying, her nose assured her of that much, but the lines of its form quivered like a child in the snow.

Sava leaned in, still saving her breath. The creature was… breathing.

Her hand wandered to the hilt of her dagger. “Do you live?”

From the box, bright, red eyes appeared, as deep as the color of blood. Before Sava could draw back, something grabbed her by the throat and pulled her down with considerable strength. It took the sheer will of her arms on the side of the box to hold herself away from the decaying thing, her dagger forgotten.

“Do you live?” It’s ragged voice came as nothing more than stirred. Sava wrenched herself away, clattering to the floor and breathing the horrid stench hard as her mind struggled for blood. She ripped the dagger from her sheath.

And the creature rose from the box, its eyes still glowing, narrowed, fixed on her. “Do you live?” it rasped again.

Sava pushed herself to her feet and stepped back, putting a safer distance between herself and this rotting thing. “I live,” she growled, raising her dagger threateningly. “More than you.”

It let out a shriek that reverberated off the walls and those red eyes flew closer. Sava managed to catch the slimy wrist before a hand could wrap around her throat again and swung the creature into the wall.

It crumpled and growled, glowing eyes still fixed on her. She raised her dagger again. “Do not make me kill you, dead thing.”

It lunged again, tackling her. Her dagger found its way into the thing’s stomach and something oozed over her hand, like sludge. Before it could bite at her throat, she caught its neck and squeezed, making it hack over her.

“Do not make me kill you!”

“Die, brother!” Its strangled words caught her off guard for just a moment, but before the decaying thing could do anything, Sava wrenched her hand up, disemboweling the creature on top of her.

Its red eyes stared at her for a moment, still wide with fury but without any indication of registering pain. Then they dimmed and the creature collapsed on her, still twitching and breathing.

“Release yourself, brother.” Sava threw the body off her and wrenched the dagger away only to drive it into one of those dimmed eyes. In the dark, it seemed to smile at her. So she pulled out her dagger again and turned it to the serrated side, laying it over the throat of the creature. “Do not call me brother,” she spat in sudden anger.

“We are brothers,” the creature whispered. “They just got you right.”

Sava found a fistfull of hair and drew the knife across the creature’s jugular, spraying blood. For a moment, it seemed it was laughing but it stopped as she used her blade to sever its neck.

Sava hefted the decapitated head up, staring into its gaping maw. “I am no brother to you,” she sneered as she stood. It was so very human to insist upon the last word but these days she felt like she was almost as human as any one of them pulled from a woman’s womb. Certainly more than this decaying thing.

She wiped her dagger on her canvas pants and resheathed it before walking out of the cave, surprised that she felt somewhat shaken by the encounter. Fear was a fun emotion to have sometimes, especially when it was unfounded.

In the welcome light of the sun, the diggers parted from her, some even running to evade her path. Now, more than before, they were horrified by her and some even screamed and retched at the sight of her.

Sava did not care. She walked around the long path out of the pit, pushing past anyone who could not smell her in time to dart ahead.

When she emerged into the main trench under the wall, she met Leo’s eyes, wide with shock and fear. It was strange; she had never known Leo to fear her though she supposed wearing the rotting insides of a monster made her more unpleasant than usual.

Sava tossed the head to Leo’s feet, watching with some interest as it rolled. It did look human in the light, but pale and it’s open eyes were as redder than the blood that oozed from its stump of a neck which was closer to black sludge than anything else.

“I found your dying thing,” Sava said, pointing to the head.

Leo’s face turned red and his teeth were clenched in anger. “Why did you bring it here?”

“I left the rest of the body in the chamber,” she assured him. “But it shouldn’t harm you.” Sava stepped as if the pat the spindly man’s shoulder, but he wriggled away before she could step into reach with all the elegance of a decapitated snake. She shrugged and walked along the trench.

[waiting-for-motivation]

blood in the snow

summary: While looking for shelter from a snow storm the Mandalorian meets an old friend. Like usually problems follow the bounty hunter. And never forgotten feelings tear the warrior apart until he finally makes the right decision.

pairings: Din Djarin x Reader

warnings: angsty, sad stuff, death, blood, tooth rotting fluff in the end

words: 3268

a/n: I‘m kind of proud of this fic so I would really like to hear your opinion about it! Stay save everybody!

I wrote a fic you can read as the second part: no responsibilities

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

Smoke rises from the chimney and gets lost in the snow storm. The fire inside the little hut shines through the windows.

A man with a beskar armor approaches the hut, hoping the owner will permit him shelter. He presses a bundle to his chest. His dark boots disappear in the deep snow with every step he takes.

Arriving at the hut the Mandalorian raises his gloved fist to knock. For some time the only sound reaching his ears is the howling of the wind. Then the door opens and a familiar face stares at him. To his surprise the person is aiming a blaster at his helmet.

„(Y/n)?“, the Mandalorian asks and can‘t believe his own eyes. The girl doesn‘t lower her weapon. Instead, she starts closing her door again because she remembers what Din Djarin said to her the last time they saw each other. She remembers everything.

Luckily, the Mandalorian can push his boot between door and frame. (Y/n) stares at him with an annoyed expression.

„What do you want, D-... Mandalorian?“, she asks and it almost sounds like she wanted to use his real name. At the last moment she remembers the promise she made years ago. Never again will his real name leave her mouth. Because it‘s cursed in her eyes.

The armed man shows (Y/n) the bundle. A green baby with huge ears is blinking tiredly at the girl. He must be freezing.

With a sigh (Y/n) opens the door far enough for the Mandalorian and his cute child to slip into the hut. Warmth surrounds the half frozen bodies immediately.

Their host walks through the small living room and in a back room where she usually sleeps. (Y/n) returns with a few blankets and a pillow.

„You can sleep on the couch. Well, if you sleep.“ Without looking at Din, she puts the blankets on the couch. „The kid can sleep on the arm chair. I hope it‘s soft enough“, (Y/n) adds a little less harsh.

The girl turns to her makeshift kitchen and collects some food as well as tea. Turning back to her two guests she realizes that they are still standing by the door. Her (e/c) eyes stare at the Mandalorians helmet with some kind of hatred. Where now lays hate in her heart was once love.

„It‘s for the child. Not for you“, she says and refers to the food and tea. (Y/n) wants to go back to her small back room but a hand grabs her wrist. The Mandalorian has put the baby down and is now staring at the female. Well, only he knows where he is looking at because the helmet hides his whole face. And every feeling he ever showed.

„I didn‘t know you lived here. I promise. The reason why I‘m here is the child. I‘m looking for his home“, Din explains. (Y/n) smiles false and with contempt in her eyes.

„Don’t touch me. You already told me everything.“ And this doesn‘t only include his explanation moments ago. (Y/n) tears her wrist from his grip and goes to her bedroom. The door closes with a loud thud.

Din sighs and looks at his child. His ears are hanging low, almost as if he can feel his fathers pain.

The Mandalorian lays the child on the soft arm chair and covers him with the thickest blanket, handing him the cup of tea. After he finished the warm drink, the child falls asleep quickly. Then Din lays down on the couch, not taking of his helmet and stares at the ceiling. He can‘t sleep, not because he is uncomfortable, no the reason is (Y/n).

In the other room the girl suffers from the same problem.

A broken heart.

The razor crest is flying through space. But neither do stars nor moons matter to the two humans inside the space ship.

A girl is laying on the small bed, unconscious. Lots of injuries cover her body. The man kneeling next to her can‘t think straight. It was his fault (Y/n) got hurt. They were on a bounty hunt together and the Mandalorian noticed too late that they were running right into a trap.

Carefully, (Y/n) opens her eyes and groans because of the pain. One of her hands touches the bandage around her middle. Din stands up and takes her hand in his gloved ones.

„Don‘t move. You are badly injured“, he says and watches the girl close her eyes again.

„I feel like a blurrg swallowed me and spit me out“, (Y/n) states and smiles because laughing would cause too much pain.

The Mandalorian kneels on the floor again and sighs deeply. This accident made him realize something. He doesn‘t want to live without (Y/n) anymore. He can‘t.

„It wasn‘t your fault. I wasn‘t paying attention“, (Y/n) whispers, opens her eyes and applies some pressure on Dins hand.

And even though the Mandalorian told her not to do it, (Y/n) sits up. Now she is on helmet level with him. Hesitantly, she leans her forehead against the cold metal of the helmet. Her (e/c) eyes close once again.

For a moment the only sound in the razor crest is the buzzing of machines. The two of them even stop breathing for a few seconds.

„Din.“

„(Y/n).“

They laugh. The girl opens her eyes and stares at the emotionless face of the helmet. Her lips meet the cold metal.

„I won‘t let anyone or anything hurt you“, Din says and makes (Y/n) smile. „I love you.“

After a restless night (Y/n) leaves her bed and puts on some warm clothes. She rubs her eyes, trying to wake herself up but it doesn’t really work. As silent as possible she enters the kitchen and living room. Her eyes wander to her two guests. The child is fast asleep on the couch while Din Djarin is lying on the couch with his helmet. (Y/n) can’t be sure if he is asleep or awake but what would it change? Nothing.

Taking a huge sip from cold water, (Y/n) starts feeling a little more awake but the water can’t cure her pain. She is still thinking about why the Mandalorian appeared at her door step last night. It must be destiny. Well, then fuck destiny.

(Y/n) walks though the whole room, opening the front door only to be meet with a cold wind and a pile of snow falling on her wooden floor. Preferably the girl wants to curse, but she doesn’t want to wake up her guests, so her mouth stays shut.

The whole region is covered in snow. But that’s not what worries (Y/n). The planet she stays on is famous for its snow storms. What worries the girl is her dog. Well, to be precise: the lack of her dog.

“What are you looking for?”, the Mandalorian asks and tears the girl from her thoughts, scaring her for a moment too. (Y/n) looks from the snow covered area to the armed man behind her.

“Definitely not your ugly ass”, (Y/n) growls and takes a step forward, her boots disappearing in the deep snow. Without thinking further about leaving the Mandalorian and his child in her hut, the girl walks further until she hears heavy steps behind her. The Mandalorian catches up with her.

“Where are you going?”, he asks but gets no answer till he reaches a hand out to hold the girl back. Quickly, (Y/n) takes a huge step away from him and stares with an angrily at the man. She realizes he must have run back into the hut to get his child because it’s resting in his arms.

“Dog is gone which means I’m going to get him. Now leave me alone, asshole”, the girl says harshly. She continues to walk, passing the edge of the next forest. Dog loves this forest. He loves to chase the black rabbits. He loves to play in the snow and can’t stop himself from liking every icicle he sees. Dog is the perfect companion for (Y/n).

“Wait, you named your dog Dog?”, the Mandalorian asks confused but still follows the girl. The last thing he wants is to lose her again and never have apologized as well as explained his actions of the past.

The three of them sneak through the forest. The only sound filling the air is the crackling of the snow under their boots. Unfortunately, there are no traces they can follow. They disappeared long ago under the snow just like the green grass.

Suddenly, the color red shines in the snow. At first only in small drops, then bigger puddles. But those turn into a huge area full of red snow. Directly in front of the razor crest.

(Y/n) lets her eyes wander from the huge spot of blood to the source of it. Her beloved wolf is hanging from the wing of the space ship - hung on his tail. His black fur seems to lost its color and his eyes stare back at her. His paws almost touch the snow under him, that‘s how huge he is.

Even though (Y/n) called him Dog doesn‘t mean he is one. To be honest he some kind of mutant wolf but that did never stop him from loving the girl. And it never did reduced (Y/n)s love towards him.

Instead of feeling sad at this moment, pure rage fills (Y/n)s body. Because she knows who is responsible for Dogs death.

“You little shit”, she screams as she throws a knife at the Mandalorians chest, which bounces off his beskar armor. The man raises his one hand, holding with the other his child. Only now (Y/n) realizes she could have hurt the little baby. Some kind of regret rises insider her head.

Before the Mandalorian can say anything to his defense, a dozen blaster point at their heads. Bounty hunters followed the Mandalorian as well as the child. Of course they did.

“We finally found you, Mando”, a blond man says and walks towards (Y/n). His fingers caress her cheek until they meet her neck. The girl clenches her hands into fists and would love to punch this idiot in the face. But that would mean her inevitable death.

“Give us the child, and we might be friendly to your little girlfriend”, the man says and grins at (Y/n), showing his ugly yellow teeth.

In contrary to her expectations, the Mandalorian hands the child to a bounty hunter. But the next moment he points his blasters at someone, shoots and starts a fight.

Quickly, (Y/n) runs to the one who is holding the baby and kills him with a blaster she found in the red snow. She presses the child to her chest and hopes for the Mandalorian to win this fight. Unfortunately, more bounty hunters jump from the trees and only seconds after their feet touch the ground, Din is laying in the bloody snow with a blaster to his helmet.

“That was your last fight, Mando”, the leader of the group says and wants to pull the trigger but (Y/n)s pleads stop him.

“Please. Don’t kill him. I will go with you. I have the child. Just leave him here. He will die in the next snow storm, I promise”, (Y/n) says with shiny eyes. The group of men looks at her. After some time the leader nods and takes his blaster out of Dins sight.

Slowly, (Y/n) walks to the men. One of them wraps an arm around her and presses her body to his filthy one. For one moment the female closes her eyes, trying to control her fear, anger and sadness.

“Oh, I promise you, Mando. I will do things to her you weren’t even able to think of. She will scream my name tonight”, the leader says, kneeling next to the Mandalorian. A grin decorating his disgusting face.

“But I can’t keep your promise, little one”, he says and looks back at (Y/n). Of course, he wouldn’t leave the most wanted Mandalorian in the whole universe alive. “I will kill you, Mando. What do you think, men? Should I take off his helmet?”

They were lying on the small and slightly uncomfortable cot in the razor crest, pressing their bodies together. Their arms as well as legs were entangled. (Y/n)s head was resting on Dins chest without his armor on.

The room was filled with silence but both of their heads were full of thoughts. While (Y/n) was trying to figure out what to talk about, the Mandalorian has other thoughts. He was looking for the right words to tell his girl he wants to leave the guild. That he wants to take off his helmet just for her. So that they can start a new life on a beautiful planet. So that he can love her properly.

(Y/n) sighed and cuddled the man she loved harder, wrapping her arms so tight around him it was almost difficult for him to breathe.

Till today, he doesn’t know why but at this moment something changed his thoughts completely. It was definitely not the lack of love towards (Y/n). Maybe it was the human touch and warmth he was still not used to. Maybe it was the peace of the moment. But he felt angry and quickly left the cot as well as (Y/n).

How dare someone have such an effect on him that he wants to give up everything?

(Y/n) looked at him with worry as he put on his armor again. He went straight to the cockpit to fly the razor crest to the next planet and leave (Y/n) there.

The moment the door opened (Y/n) was confused because that was definitely not the planet they were heading to.

“You stay here”, the Mandalorian said and pushed the girl out of the space ship. (Y/n) raised her eyebrows in confusion when he gave her a backpack full of food and cloths. Everything she ever owned was inside this backpack.

“What do you mean?” The Mandalorian turned his back to her and wanted to close the door again. Without an explanation. “Din?” He turns his helmet back to (Y/n).

“I don’t love you”, he said and with those words he disappeared out of (Y/n)s life. Without an explanation.

Everything happens so suddenly, (Y/n) has problems following the movement of the animals. The first one ending up dead is the man holding the girl to his chest. Because he doesn’t let got of her, (Y/n) falls in the snow too.

The huge black, brown and white wolves tear the bounty hunters to pieces. When one of them walks to the armed Mandalorian he raises his hand to protect himself with his fire thrower.

“No. He is a friend”, (Y/n) says while standing up and walks him, protecting him with her body. The black wolf stares at her with his huge eyes, then howls and the pack disappears behind the trees. They were Dogs friends.

(Y/n) takes a deep breath and without minding Dins groaning while he stands up, she walks inside the razor crest to lay the child on the cot. Memories fill her mind when seeing the makeshift bed which lets tears well up in her eyes. Before the Mandalorian can walk in on her crying, the girl wipes them away and walks out of the ship the moment Din wants to enter it. Her plan was to walk away without exchanging another word with him, but he holds her back.

“(Y/n), please. We need to talk”, the man says, tightening his grip on her wrist because he fears she might run away.

“I have nothing to say, Mando”, (Y/n) spits and after staring in his eyes with supposedly anger which is actually fear, she turns to the forest. But the Mandalorian doesn’t let her go. Not without an explanation.

“But I have to tell you so much. Listen and then you can choose between staying here with me or leaving.” (Y/n) turns back to the Mandalorian and nods. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did”, (Y/n) says with a broken voice.

“I know. I know that because it hurt me too to leave you on this planet, knowing I might never see you again. It broke me. It broke my heart to see you standing there in the middle of a forest, all alone. But I thought I had to do this. You don’t know but that day I thought about starting a life with you, (Y/n). I was ready to take off my helmet for you. But then I realized I couldn’t give up my way of life for one person.”

“Then it’s all cleared up. You don’t want me in your life because I endanger your religion. I understand”, (Y/n) says, rips her wrist from Dins grip and walks away from him. Not looking back.

“(Y/n)”, he says her name once, twice, even a third time, but she stops not until she hears steps in the snow. With a sigh the girl turns around and what awaits her there is taking her breath away.

The Mandalorian is standing in front of his beloved ship without his helmet. His face is covered in scars and some fresh scratches. His brown hair sticks to his head because the helmet simply doesn’t give much room for it. His almost innocent looking brown eyes stare at (Y/n) - with love.

“Din, no”, the girl whispers because she can’t think about the right words to say in this situation. Din Djarin just did what she least expected him to do. He gave up everything for her, so that they can be together. “No”, she says again but nevertheless the brown-haired man comes closer.

In her eyes he is perfect, even though his hair is greasy and he could use some shaving. He is gorgeous, so gorgeous.

“You have to put it back on”, (Y/n) says and points with a shaking hand to the helmet which lays in the red snow.

“It’s too late for my creed but it’s not too late for the two of us”, Din says and takes one last step so that he stands directly in front of (Y/n), only a few inches parting them. Tears well up in (Y/n) eyes because she can’t believe Din did this for her.

Unsure the Mandalorian grabs her waist and pulls her closer to his body. Oh, how he missed this feeling of her warmth next to his. His brown eyes meet hers. A small smile appears on his lips and makes his mustache rise.

“I love you so much, (Y/n)”, he says but his eyes are the proof. Din looks at (Y/n) as if she is the only one in this whole universe, as if she is his universe. He lets his hands wander from her waist to her face, grabbing it gently.

“I love you too, Din, but you have to put your hel-”, (Y/n) starts but gets interrupted by the Mandalorians soft lips. Butterflies fill her stomach and let the girl feel something she never felt before. Their lips move delicately.

But the kiss stops as fast as it started because both aren’t used to this. It’s their first kiss. For Din even the first kiss of his life.

Tears stream over (Y/n)s cheeks and wet Dins fingers which are still caressing his lovers beautiful face. With his thumb he wipes the tears away but others follows - tears of happiness.

Din places a kiss on (Y/n)s forehead and takes one of her hands, pulling her to the razor crest and the rest of their lives.

[satanherfuckingself]

Hayley Atwell. Publicly Adored Psychopath.

Before I begin, I feel it's imperative to mention that this was not created to cause harm. Do not send anyone hatred or harassment despite what you may read. You are not a monster. Do not stoop to that level. Verbal abuse is still abuse, whether we acknowledge it or not, whether someone 'deserves' it or not.

Please, do not do that. Do not become an abuser. If you feel the need to do something, I will provide solutions for that fact, but hatred and harm will not solve anything.

Keep that in mind. And please stay tuned and read this thoroughly because it's more than just a social call out. It's more than just 'cancel culture' or someone making a big whoop over something nonsensical or even holding someone accountable for their actions. I promise there is a point to this, and it is probably far more important than the title even suggests.

Please, stick with it, and read to the end.

I also feel the need to mention that some of the behaviors discussed in this piece will undoubtedly be quite... disturbing. Proceed with caution if you find it necessary.

And. Let it be known that any claims made here are in fact alleged. Evidence and sources will be provided of course, that's simply a friendly reminder for the... legality of it.

Forgive me if you enjoy this ending because if you have any sense of a decent moral compass, this will probably shatter that enjoyment of it, and forgive me if you do not because this will only make you hate it more.

So I found this blog:

Hydra Support Blog

Really, it's a blog centered entirely around hating Sharon Carter, the very real person that was her actress, Emily VanCamp, encouraging hatred towards this same very real person and her fans for any scrounged up nonexistent reason they can find, without proof, as well as fans of the comics.

They also insult her acting, despite the fact that Emily actually has won awards for her performances while the idol they are so devoted to has not.

All for the sake of the very real bully who actively encouraged, manipulated, and even to some degree, promoted the behavior. Under the guise of promoting her own character.

Why did I call them a Hydra support blog?

Well, quite clearly, they support the Creepy Uncle Theory that Endgame made a point to reward them with, which certainly does require the support of Hydra among other things, but I won't dive into that just yet. It's also because they sound exactly like Zola. Don't worry, we'll come back to it. But they are also quite clearly overjoyed at the idea of someone losing a job for their personal enjoyment.

This is also terrible.

Allow me to remind that this harassment and hatred was not limited to these fans, or fans of Peggy or Steggy. It also existed, to some degree among Romanogers fans, Stucky fans, and Stony fans. You know who you are. And you are certainly not excused from this behavior if you in any way participated in spreading hatred or contempt for the Staron and Sharon fanbase, or actively harassing those fans.

You don't have to like it, you can even rant against it all you like in your personal spaces. But being respectful and understanding should be the common fucking courteousy here. People are allowed to like different things from you. And they are not obligated to agree with you.

Your personal enjoyment is not worth more than someone's job or life. And it never should be.

However, the only actress who encouraged this particular behavior in full, among her fans... was Atwell.

Not Emily, not Chris, not Scarlett, not Sebastian, and not Robert Downey Jr. Some may have made tasteless jokes or even gone along with the situation, encouraging 'teams' among fans for publicity. I wouldn't label complete blamelessness in this case, but it is important to recognize ignorance over malicious behavior, which is the difference here. Because it was nothing to the extent of the tantrum that Atwell threw the moment the spotlight was no longer on her.

So let's talk about Hayley Atwell, and her involvement in all of this, the alleged actions and their implications. Let's take a deep dive into the psychology of it all, and why what she did was actually very wrong. I'll touch on the lack of etiquette and class as well as blatant unprofessionalism needed to consciously do what she did.

Because her behavior is disturbing, it is disgusting, and it has gone unnoticed for far too long. Her portrayal of Peggy makes the relationship canonically abusive. And no one noticed.

People are still defending her, and respecting her, despite what she's done. She is welcome to have a life and live it how she pleases, but not at the expense of other people. We cannot simply reward this type of behavior when it is unquestionably wrong. We cannot leave her with the power to do worse.

A good starting point in understanding what she's done would be here:

Receipts

Who one lovely sweetheart of a blogger decided to compile and I am ever so grateful for, as I'm a lazy shit~. My only regret is that this wasn't seen and still hasn't been seen by enough people, especially by those that rewarded or are even promoting the behavior still. This blogger is a very good person and that is abundantly clear, send her some love and reblog that post if you can. It's necessary more people see it. Thank you, love, you are truly a blessing. So I'm a little bias, I tend to be for good people.

Allow me to expand on it though, as I do have to mention, I have just a few minor additions and concerns. However, sources are provided perfectly, along with plenty of evidence to stand on it's own for what Atwell did. That this was active, deliberate, and intentional to hurt someone's career that wasn't herself. Allegedly.

But, let's also debunk some of Atwell's claims and mention a few other things, starting with all her claims about the relationship between Sharon and Steve. Between being 'disrespectful' and 'incestuous'.

Claims easily found in these articles:

https://ew.com/article/2016/06/06/captain-america-civil-war-hayley-atwell-steve-sharon/

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/heat-vision/peggy-carter-does-not-approve-899860

https://www.hypable.com/captain-america-civil-war-hayley-atwell-steve-and-sharon-were-disrespectful/

https://www.thewrap.com/hayley-atwell-agent-carter-captain-america-civil-war-kiss-sharon-carter-marvel-incestuous-disrespectful/

https://www.cinemablend.com/new/Hayley-Atwell-Issue-With-Captain-America-Agent-13-Kiss-Civil-War-135197.html

https://www.bustle.com/articles/165038-hayley-atwell-reveals-peggys-feelings-about-steve-sharon-which-are-just-what-youd-expect

https://www.bustle.com/articles/165194-why-captain-america-sharon-carters-relationship-does-a-disservice-to-both-fans-steve-rogers

https://www.themarysue.com/peggy-carter-does-not-approve/

Oh, and look at that last one, including a gif of the psychotic rage it takes to shoot at someone who doesn't belong to you, because you're jealous... And of course, we love a good afterthought in which a real person is less important than a fictional story.

https://screenrant.com/captain-america-mcu-ending-problem-sharon-carter-endgame/

Did I need to include all of those sources? Of course not. Are they mostly along the same lines? Absolutely. But does it make a point of how positively this was covered as the media ran with her words to give her as much press and coverage as she wanted and promote her and only her ideas?

Absolutely...

To put it all very bluntly, I disagree with her. Why?

Well, for starters, we know that 'Peggy' had initially moved on from Steve. She'd married, had a family, supposedly loved this family and even had grandchildren. The character had always, comics alike but even in the MCU, been meant to signify and aid in Steve moving on, just as she did, from the past. It was a minor role, but still vital, and quite endearing when done this way.

But according to this, these articles and Atwell herself.

Peggy never loved the husband she'd initially married, or the family she'd made.

They were only placeholders for Steve.

According to her, Steve wasn't allowed to move on from her. Wasn't permitted to find happiness, beyond her, even though her character had blatantly stated she wanted him to in 'CA:TWS'. As proven even by Atwell's feelings towards Romanogers. Seemingly any woman that wasn't Peggy was an absolute 'no' for her. Because he belonged to 'Peggy'. I didn't know... slavery was a thing for her, but as far as I know, people cannot and should not be ownable.

Under no circumstances, even with married couples, should the people involved be considered property. They are individuals and human beings. Point blank. Period.

But let's make an exception in her case and say that this is true. Well, apparently this controlled permission and ownership extends to Sharon as well?

Now I'll ask, why is Peggy's opinion, a woman Steve had previously only shared one kiss with, had never even managed to share that one date with, relevant at all?

A woman who, need I remind you is well into her 90s by the time we see her again, is Steve still supposedly all she thinks about? All she thought about all those years? Why was a picture of... him on her desk in the 70s, as portrayed in Endgame, when she should have been married, with children, well into her 50s mind you but somehow still young, and apparently, none of her family is as important as Steve?

How is that healthy?

She was tantamount to an ex-lover at that point. Even if they had slept together, as Atwell claimed, and Evans and the writers disproved. Are people supposed to consult ex-lovers before they start dating someone else? Especially ones that get married and live their lives? Is there some unspoken rule I don't know about? Or in another sense, I wasn't aware she was also his mother and could decide for him, a grown man with a right to his own decisions and autonomy, who had initiated the romance with Sharon, what he could and could not do.

Ideally, Peggy would have cared more about Sharon, a niece she had supported in her endeavors and helped raise, rather than a man she admired symbolically and had shared one kiss with, and never managed to date. Just because she didn't get dick from him. Ideally, she would have cared more about the family she'd allegedly made after moving on from this man's death. A family, Sharon would have been a part of.

Her concerns shouldn't have been cockblocking Steve and saying he couldn't have Sharon and vice versa, they should have been whether or not he's treating Sharon right. And far more protective over Sharon, than possessive over Steve.

In fact, a good great aunt who'd truly loved both of them, faced with this situation, I would have even imagined trying to set them up, and being that scandalous older woman~, who's lived her life, had fun, loved her family, and wants to see him happy with someone else.

Because that's what true love is.

Wanting to see the person you love, happy, even if it's without you, even if it can't be you that gives them that happiness, especially if you've had to move on in your own life and can't be with them.

I fail to see how Steve moving on after she has too, qualifies as 'disrespectful'. Even if you find it tasteless that he kissed Sharon after her death. Could he have asked for her permission and blessing for the relationship? Of course! Maybe he should have, I think this would have even made it better. The difference being, a Peggy who truly cared about him would have given her blessing, not withheld it.

But what about the 'incestuous' aspect?

Well, that's also a no. At least... not technically, and certainly not before Peggy was forced back into the relationship, before Steve willingly and knowing became Sharon's uncle. And Peggy's placeholders were set aside like chopped liver. Steve was certainly in a peculiar situation that maybe doesn't look the best from the exterior, and in the original version of the comics, Sharon was merely Peggy's younger sister. However, the comparison of his situation is easily explained and understood in much better lighting with some simple imagination.

Take for example, and let's even make Sharon a more direct descendant just to drive the point home, if Steve were an ancient vampire.

Let's say... this vampire Steve has a brief romantic fling with a young and beautiful Peggy. They do not sleep together. But share some feelings, some sweet passings, and a single kiss. However, Steve goes dormant, for years and years and years on end. However vampires do. Peggy is understandably sad for the moment, perhaps upset. But she moves on. She understands, she falls in love with someone new, she has children, and her children have children, and so on and so forth. She lives a normal human life.

Steve wakes up.

And he meets Sharon. A however many greats granddaughter of the woman he was once infatuated with. But he may not necessarily know this. They look nothing alike. But maybe there's something special in the bloodline that draws them together, that draws him to her.

Oh, and by the way, this is starting to sound familiar. Ever heard of the 'Vampire Diaries'? Except Elena and Katherine do in fact look exactly alike.

Yet no one bats an eye at this or calls it incestuous.

The point being, he falls in love. And she does too. And maybe this time, he decides he wants someone to be with, to hold, wholly and completely. And he turns Sharon into his immortal lover. (There's a fic idea for anyone that wants it~!)

Perhaps this was even something that under circumstance, he couldn't offer to Peggy, or she had even rejected.

This is not incest, in any way, shape, or form. This is a man, faced with a circumstance, in which he moves on. And is happy to do so. There is nothing wrong with that.

Could it be a little strange that he happens to fall for someone in Peggy's bloodline? Sure. But it's still not incest.

Unless~, he falls in love with Sharon... before deciding on takebacksies and finding a way to go back in time just to be with her however many greats grandmother. Possibly even ensuring that his own blood is part of Sharon's, or erasing her from existence along with any of the other family that Peggy had allegedly loved.

The first one is perfectly understandable. The second one is disgusting.

Peggy makes it incestuous.

But I suppose, according to Atwell, Peggy was also incapable of love.

Not just loving other people besides Steve, but love in general. Because this is called obsession, and it's sick. It's disturbing. Can't tell the difference? Here, that should help. This one too, very informative and does a good job of simplifying this concept for the average person. And what a coincidence. Oh, and look, another. And another.

Seriously, this is what Marvel, and Disney, a modern day company that should be responsible with it's messages and stories, glorified and normalized for the public.

If you're going to write a horror story, at least say it's a fucking horror story. Or take the goddamn criticism when someone tells you it is objectively bad.

So, not only did this woman completely fabricate and romanticize a crush, an unhealthy one, and blow it up to be a real relationship along with convincing everyone of the lie, she put others down to do so in order to get what she wanted, regardless of the price that others had to pay for it. Lovely. I think her claims completely undermine and disregard the legacy Peggy had left behind, and the love she would have otherwise had for her family. I think it's a gross mischaracterization of her that misses the mark on who 'Peggy Carter' was and what she represents.

Did you know that in the comics she has a relationship with Gabe Jones? One of Steve's own Howlies no less, and a wonderful representation of an interracial love fighting for what's right, together, especially for the time period?

Where's that love story, that doesn't require Steve to be a creepy uncle for her sake and is more than just an obsessive crush and single kiss?

Why does Sharon not matter to her? Why did her husband not matter? Why did her kids not matter?

And if you're under the assumption that Steve was this person the entire time, why did Hydra not matter growing within S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why did Steve's own principles and who he was not matter to her anymore, as long as she was getting dick? Why did Bucky not matter, being tortured by Hydra for the 70 years she got to get off?

Nevermind, I guess she treated him like shit anyway, even if ideally, the flirtatious little shit Bucky was would have been the best man at Steve's wedding to her, an uncle to her kids, and the best friend that Steve had in his life with her.

Why did Sharon still not matter to her? Nor her other family which she apparently lied to? Why did young Steve not matter enough to tell the truth to? And lie about Alzheimer's no less. Why did she seem to find it fitting to lie to everyone?

Let's continue.

If that's not enough, let's talk about the cry that Steve somehow 'wasn't good enough' for or 'didn't deserve' Peggy when the kiss of Civil War happened.

Okay...

How?

Because if your reasoning for the logic of putting someone down, telling them they are lesser, and 'not good enough' or undeserving of you, is because they choose to 'move on' and not be with you, or choose someone else over you?

You are a terrible person. And I would not want to be the object of your affection.

That is deliberate psychological abuse. And if you tell anyone that sort of thing, just because they don't or can't return your feelings, you are a fucked up person. Fuck you. That is disgusting.

Do not ever tell someone this just because they can't or choose not to love you. Apologize if you ever have, especially to someone you do love. Love is not always an active choice. And this is guilt tripping, manipulating, gaslighting someone into a situation where you put them down for your personal benefit, and that is nasty, unacceptable behavior that no one should tolerate.

Call out someone's own terrible behavior if they are doing something wrong, do not jump to the conclusion that this means the person is worthless. There is a difference. Harmful behaviors can be changed. People can change and get better. We should strive to be better.

However, the aforementioned? That is what psychopaths do to ensure their control over a relationship, run if someone is doing this to you. Find a way to get out of there if you can, because that is fucked up, and no, you deserve better than that. Do not let them belittle you.

And yet, this was... completely glorified by the media, even rewarding someone who committed to this type of behavior. Especially after the fact.

How many articles are there out there that critique Endgame versus those that promote this ending and actively defend it? Giving Disney good press?

But luckily, Atwell only did it with the characters, right? It's only fictional, right?

Yeah, that's why we didn't see Emily in Infinity Wars or Endgame... That's why, even though she'd been hired for a job she had earned, they kept kicking her down the road like a bent, empty can. Worthless and usable, and not a real person at all. Why did they hire her if this had 'always been the plan' as they claimed? To disgust everyone? To make the ending as fucking shitty as it is and have people praise them for it? To publicly embarrass and humiliate her, just because?

The lack of class and just... human decency necessary to commit this kind of behavior is easily seen with a hypothetical comparison, simply with another well beloved actress I will admit might not be a fully fair comparison. But that's because this actress is amazing and not many people compare to her.

But let's take a pause and also consider the actions of Atwell's coworkers, since none of them did quite what she did. None of them... did quite what she did.

You know who else would never do this, even if she'd been playing Peggy Carter and got her show cancelled? Who realistically, wouldn't have gotten her show cancelled because she actually is amazing and would be worth watching, hands down, no complaints.

Sandra Bullock.

And I'd hate to name drop like that or put her on the spot, but just consider it for a moment. Sandy B. as Peggy Carter. Already, beautiful, elegant, amazing, maybe a bit funnier, compassionate, kind, and playing the part of the loving aunt for Sharon perfectly. Even more comic accurate probably! Sandra Bullock would never take time out of her day for any reason, to put down one of her costar's characters and talk trash about this character and the relationship she's in with another character... Ever. Period.

She has class, grace. And she's a truly, genuinely good human being. In fact, I would wager to say, she'd make jokes about it to promote the relationship. As the crazy aunt who's constantly trying to set Steve up with someone new, probably her niece, and embarrassing the shit out of him. And that image is just fucking adorable.

Can you picture it? It's pretty amazing, right?

Now can you really defend Atwell's actions knowing they could have been avoided and a real person, real people, not hurt with them?

I guarantee this ending would have never happened had someone at least like Sandra Bullock been cast as Peggy Carter. Even if she did happen to 'ship' Peggy and Steve more than she did Sharon and Steve. Even if she did 'joke' about it. Especially when there's a point the jokes go too far. And I'd wager to say, she'd even focus more on helping Emily VanCamp, than putting down her character and sicking her pack or rabid bullies on her to try and get her to kill herself.

What the actual fuck has to be wrong with someone to do something like that. Even without giving the direct order.

And sure, maybe fans do ride the crazy train a bit to much. But the least we could expect from Bullock would be a public statement regarding the behavior, and letting fans know that she doesn't condone it and would want them to stop.

I challenge you to find anything along those lines that Atwell could have done. I tried.

And there was nothing.

Let's continue with the character analysis and talk a bit about the implications of this ending.

So far, we know Peggy hated Sharon, her own niece, that she 'owns' Steve and has all rights to his autonomy and decisions, doesn't care about her husband or family if Steve isn't somehow part of it, and would label Steve 'unworthy' of her if he somehow decided he loved someone else. Not just Sharon, but anyone.

Let's also not forget this is a woman who shot at him for having kissed someone else in front of her. When they weren't together. Would you want and choose to date someone who shot at you for doing that?

I mean, I suppose I don't personally know you, maybe you're into some kinky shit. But that doesn't really seem to healthy to me.

Let's talk about little Steve and Erskine, and the promise Steve made to him as well as himself. His character development over the movies and what this ending requires not just of him, but of Peggy too.

From the first movie, we know that even when Steve wasn't capable of doing more, when his body didn't permit him to, he always wanted to do more. Erskine in his dying moment asked him not to forget his heart. The man that would choose to do good above all else. To help those around him that maybe couldn't help themselves. This is an invaluable lesson I think we could all learn from, within our capacities of course.

Bucky even tried to stop Steve from hurting himself, because he worried about him. And then followed him because he admired what the little guy... had always stood for. And against.

“I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't like bullies, I don't care where they're from.”

By the end of the film, Steve has lost someone incredibly dear to him that he grew up with, Bucky, and makes the decision to save thousands of lives that would otherwise be lost over his own personal enjoyment. Because it's the right decision. And he tells Peggy it's his choice. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't expect to survive, but he keeps his promise to Erskine above all else, and stops Hydra, or so we think.

We later discover Hydra has survived all those years through Zola. Growing in S.H.I.E.L.D., under Peggy's watchful eyes... holding Bucky for all that time.

With the addition of Endgame's Creepy Uncle Theory, that little tidbit of the story, we've been given two interpretations. There's also a lot of lines that lose all meaning, from Steve, Peggy, and Sharon.

“When I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it.”

“Sometimes, all we can do is our best, and sometimes the best is the start over.”

“She kept so many secrets, I didn't want her to have one from you.”

“I don't know, the guy who wanted all of that went into the ice 70 years ago, I think someone else came out.”

But let's go back to those interpretations, both of which require someone to suffer on Steve and Peggy's behalf for a minimum of 70 years. Apart from becoming a creepy uncle who apparently had been only using Sharon as a replacement for her. And of course abandoning everyone who loved him just to get laid. This may not be easily seen or understood at first glance. But it is easily explained and should be painfully obvious.

If Steve is present in the main universe that entire time, choosing to do nothing, he has:

Abandoned Sharon.

Abandoned his family, the Avengers.

Abandoned Bucky.

Abandoned the principles he lived by and thrown away promises to all those he held dear. Including his promise to Erskine, who gave him that power to do more to begin with.

Left Hydra undisturbed and even prospering under his beloved wife's organization, allowing people to die and suffer, including Bucky who we know is tortured and in and out of ice for those years.

Be perfectly happy with the sexism, racism, and just general bigotry of the time period. Something that at least comics Steve Rogers has been proven to hate so much, he actively made himself go forward in time permanently, after only saving Bucky, because he couldn't stand it. No amount of Peggy to fix the situation for him. She's also never mattered as much as any other love interest to him. Not even Blind Al, that one's obscure~.

Be perfectly happy to do nothing while a situation is pointed south, even though he has previously stated incapable of doing so? While he knows what will happen or that people are suffering and dying for him and Peggy, what he will do to Sharon, and just completely and utterly not giving a shit.

Huh... Well, none of that sounds 'good'. I guess it also means he completely regrets his decision to save all those lives and sacrifice himself. A decision... I assumed he was the type of person to be able to make more than once if necessary. Because it was who he was. And supposedly, what Peggy even respected him for. I assumed Peggy would have also respected this decision, not backtracked to make him actively do the opposite of this very thing for 70 years. Possibly even... if we're to believe Hydra is allowed to run rampant all those years, potentially thousands of lives to be killed on his behalf instead.

Huh, I guess it was a pointless decision.

“We don't trade lives.”

Right?

And we're supposed to believe Mjolnir, a tool essentially measuring 'selflessness' and humility, purity of heart, 'worthiness', would be perfectly fine with labeling this behavior as 'good' as well.

That just seems like a pipe dream for every sod who can't get laid and has a backwards moral compass, but let's not dive into that.

Despite the fact that he's also abandoning all sense of self and is nothing more than a mindless puppet at this point. Through 'Steve Rogers' choosing this ending... he is actively doing wrong, and knows it. He is actively allowing Hydra to prosper, and... essentially...

Proving Zola right.

“We won, Captain. Your life amounts to your death, a zero sum!”

Familiar now, isn't it? But I guess every message we learned about Steve, in light of everything, in light of Peggy, is meaningless so long as he's... getting laid. Or 'happy'.

That doesn't sound fucked up at all, being perfectly okay with people suffering on your behalf. But I suppose it's no surprise that the people who love Atwell so much and are perfectly okay with her behavior feel the same way...

And here's the thing, I don't think 'Steve Rogers'... the real one in context of his story anyway, would be happy in a setting he needs to let others suffer on his behalf, and ignore their suffering, in order for him to be happy. Looking at his character just over the previous movies, I'd say this would in actuality be literal torment for him.

Spidey gave a perfect rendition that completely embodied everything Steve Rogers stands for and had stood for in those movies.

“When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen... They happen because of you...”

What a coincidence. And another important message.

If you actually think a man like Steve, a first responder by nature, who always seeks out the goodness in others and wants to help people, would suddenly sit on his ass and allow people to suffer for him? When he couldn't even do this while too small to make any real impact?

You are delusional. And it is disturbing that you would somehow label that as 'good', as 'cute', as 'healthy', as 'right', as 'true love'. As 'happy' for him.

This is a man, forced into retirement, under the 'guise' of a 'choice', when in reality, it is atrociously horrible writing that disregards anything about who he was and what he stood for. That had he been real, this would have been a disservice to him and is certainly one to every important message the character has, and the history behind him. He would have been stuck in this world. Trapped, and held back from doing anything. By someone who supposedly 'loves' him?

Love doesn't hold people back or hold on possessively like a fucking parasite, it sets people free.

Why would she do that to him? Why would she sit back and assume all of those things are 'okay'? How? Why would anyone want her to??? I thought Peggy was supposed to be a good character inspired by upholding his message. Did she break the vial? Did she keep him in her basement? Did she tell him to sit on his ass and 'look pretty' while she did all the work? A fucking horrible job I might add, if she just lets Hydra run rampant and kill Howard for her sake. How is someone like that admired as a 'good' person?

Nothing about this is 'good'.

This ending is not 'beautiful'. It is a horror story masquerading as something 'pretty'. It is an abuse story being normalized to a vast and unknowing public. At best, a horribly irresponsible message to send the public... and at worst... a reflection of what's wrong with society as a whole. Possibly with ulterior and deliberate intentions.

In order for this ending to happen, Steve Rogers must cut ties with his family and abandon all he loved, loves, lives for, all sense of self... all for Peggy, and solely Peggy's, satisfaction. Seems oddly... familiar to a certain situation his best friend, who seemingly means nothing to him, happened to be in... for 70 years.

Let's reverse the roles. If Steve had been a female to do this for a man's sake? The first thing people would notice is how unhealthy the relationship is. How obsessive it is. How harmful it is. And how disgusting the normalization of it is. In a media that has a far reach and should be so much more fucking responsible with the messages they send their viewers.

Knowing that there are so many sacrifices, ones that shouldn't be made, and that every sacrifice comes from Steve's end, would you willingly call this relationship healthy? Beautiful? 'True love'?

When in reality, they'd only shared one kiss, and never dated?

Yeah. Seems legit.

On the flip side, you have that other interpretation, right? The one where he's in an alternate universe and lets his Peggy live her life with another man, but steals this Peggy both from her future husband and himself.

You'd think it gets better, right? I mean he can fix this universe in full, he might fuck something up and we might consider it a bit irresponsible to play with timelines like that, but he can always just go back if it goes too bad. He's earned it, his shot at this life, still disregarding Sharon and now... a version of himself. A Steve still trapped in the ice. Still suffering on his behalf. While he lives out his life with supposedly this Steve's girl, this Steve's Bucky, and this Steve's entire potential life.

Oh, and apparently this Peggy really doesn't care about the Steve trapped in the ice, since she's also fine with a replacement that's totally different from the one she knew~! That's not weird or fucked up at all.

Leaving him to wake up, alone, in the future having known the life he wanted was knowingly taken by someone else. Someone selfish enough to leave him in the ice. Bucky's alive and safe from Hydra, yay! Apparently... no version from this alternate universe is worth giving the shield to though. So I guess Steve ultimately didn't love these replacements as much. And of course, this is assuming Steve doesn't also just leave this universe as is for everything else terrible to happen.

This is assuming he gives a shit at all. Because if he had?

Tell me why... defrosting the alternate Steve to live out a life with his own Peggy, to at least make sure one of them got that 'happy ending', could still do good, without abandoning anyone, could kick ass, could fix everything in this alternate timeline, maybe even with a few tips from this time traveling Steve, somehow wasn't acceptable compared to 'Steve Rogers' actively and willingly doing, and allowing terrible things to happen, and abandoning everyone else who loved him.

Once again, cut off from his family and replacing them all with clones.

This is supposed to be better?

Did he ever really love Peggy, or just the way she looked since any identical twin happened to work just fine?

Tell me why, if Chris Evans just wanted to stop playing the role, Steve going back for just the dance and asking for Peggy's blessing to marry Sharon, presumably after they'd actually made an effort to develop the relationship, presumably after Peggy has made her peace with loving someone else, and then coming back to not abandon his family or any of his principles or promises he made, or just who he is in general, and proposing to Sharon with Peggy's blessing and understanding, wouldn't have been better and more respectful in all ways?

With the characters, with their history, with their messages. Tell me how it wouldn't have been better to simply have him out of the spotlight and training recruits, but still actively being who he was and doing good somehow couldn't have been acceptable?

There, I can write a better ending than those quack professionals Marvel hired. Simple, easy, done. Where's my fucking job~?

Instead of demolishing every part of who he was, using an anti-bullying character... to reward bullying no less?

Even if Evans wanted to retire or would have made a decision like this, doesn't mean Cap would have ever even remotely done something similar. At least not a good version of him. Upholding the symbolic moral message the character presents would have been easy, but they were too stupid to even try.

Tell me how this ending doesn't disrespect a previous almost 60 years of an established comic relationship, a relationship need I remind in which Sharon was pregnant with Steve's child, one sadly lost, and later shared an adopted son with him. A relationship, that should they disrespect and retcon for Peggy's sake, will only serve to make Steve Rogers seem like a terrible person with no sense of loyalty to a woman he supposedly loved and has spent a good chunk of his life with. As opposed to sharing one kiss or brief romance with. For all intents and purposes, Sharon being his common law wife.

Ironically, the very thing Atwell claimed this relationship did in the MCU, despite the fact that her character only shared a single kiss with Steve, canonically. And she lied and actively manipulated fans into believing it was so much more. When... watch the movies, it wasn't.

Tell me how this ending doesn't disrespect the characters, including Peggy, and the messages they have conveyed, the convictions they've held over the years of their history, and the symbolism which I would argue is much more important, that they represent. Tell me how it doesn't somehow disrespect and belittle Bucky, Erskine, the idea that Howard was Steve's friend, or that any of the people Steve loved actually mattered to him, beyond Peggy.

Beyond getting laid. Because deny it all you want, that is what this ending boils down to. That is the only reason it exists.

Or, actually, I'd wager it also exists to actively squash the importance of the messages the characters convey.

Here's an idea. Johann Schmidt and comics Hydra Cap both have more conviction and loyalty to their cause than EG Cap. And Schmidt post IW/EG arguably causes less harm than EG Cap actively allows to happen right beside himself, because Schmidt is incapable of doing much as the stone's guardian.

And at least Hydra Cap made sense within the context of his storyline.

Prove me wrong.

That's the sort of Cap you have to support to like this ending. Hydra complacent, bigotry complacent, and completely castrated, or at the very least, willing to replace everyone he loves with clones while he takes an alternate Steve's life. Frankly, that's not a Cap I think anyone should support. And I don't think any fans, especially Peggy or Steggy fans should be somehow proud of the fact that this is the sort of 'Steve' that Peggy gets.

I mean... I suppose it is in fact the kind of Steve that sort of Peggy, equally complacent and horrible, would deserve? But that doesn't really stop it from being gross, does it?

Is that really what you'd want as a fan?

I've mentioned that Atwell's alleged behavior is inappropriate, excessive, disturbing. And I'll also mention, this kind of obsession for fictional characters is unhealthy. So why did she do this? Why the behavior at all, why did she go out of her way to essentially hurt Emily, discreetly of course, without people noticing? Why all the manipulation?

Well... it gets worse. And this is certainly where that allegedly becomes very important.

Take a moment to think for a minute about who benefited from this ending and how.

Atwell, most certainly, at Emily's expense of course. At the expense of fans. And an actual well written product we wouldn't get immediate buyer's remorse from. And of course maybe one that doesn't insult our intelligence?

You could assume she simply wanted money. Though somehow... that doesn't really fit. Maybe spotlight? That makes a little more sense, though just as bad. It's seedy, it's spiteful, it's uncomfortably close to a bad Harlequin manga villain. If you've ever read one of those.

They're based off old trashy romance novels if that gives any reference.

Except... what if you replaced every instance of 'Steve, Sharon, and Peggy', with instances of herself and Chris? With the names, 'Chris, Emily, and Hayley'.

Except Emily is happily married now, and can easily identify the difference between a romantic interest in her work, and in real life. Can easily discern a job from her private life. Because that's what a good, stable, actress or actor can easily do.

Suddenly, the situation takes on a very different meaning.

How creepy would that have been for her to do? Along with easily dismissed by the public.

Keep in mind, this is a woman who publicly admitted to, and even in plain view, groping this man, multiple times, without his explicit consent because she 'couldn't help herself'. Okay. Big deal, right? So she touched his 'man boobs' a couple times. He laughed it off, it was all good fun. Why would he complain, it's different, men shouldn't be complaining about being touched without their permission by beautiful women. Despite the fact that they're not, nor have they ever been, in a romantic relationship together.

It's perfectly appropriate for a woman to grope a man as she pleases, whether he is in a relationship with her or even other people, or not. He can't feel uncomfortable because of this, only woman can. Why would he ever be uncomfortable about it, and if he was, he would have said so. He loves her, they're friends!

Let me know if the hypocrisy needed for that logic is falling through the cracks here, because that seems like a dangerous double standard to set.

You shouldn't be allegedly or otherwise, touching or really molesting, in her own words 'groping', anyone publicly and suddenly, especially without their consent. But let's assume he was okay with every single time it had happened. Okay. Sure. Fine. It's his body to decide with who can touch him like that, who can invade his personal space and how, right? And besides, he loves the attention and being objectified by women.

That's clearly why he'll make an effort to actually call out and put people on the spot who pretend to talk to him through a faked photoshopped encounter, right? Clearly why he absolutely hates that.

Now let's assume he wasn't.

Why would he ever admit to that if the response we can expect is that 'he's a man, so he should be okay with it'? As if men somehow don't have a right to their own bodies or can't be sexually harassed and molested, abused, raped, you name it. Objectified maybe? Why would we be suspicious of the behavior or tell someone that it's wrong, without the full story even though it's happening in our plain view?

Playfulness and comfort between friends is one thing, boundaries between them is another, and friends can still cross boundaries they shouldn't. Sometimes they do. Consider the fact of a known straight man and a woman who is attracted to him, and suddenly the implications change. The man, so far, has not shown even remotely the same attraction.

But why would we suspect her behavior would entail anything other than support for her own character that she played, and the ship she was a part of, which had been respectfully written out of the story and made to move on? It's not like she was actively dragging down a woman, a real person, another actress that essentially got in her way, and the part she wanted to play. Kissing Chris Evans.

It's not like she claimed she'd be the best choice for Sharon's actress in blonde wig before Emily was cast. Oh wait...

Was that in that little blog sourcing everything she did and claimed? I can't remember.

And this is all speculation of course. But I think it's very important speculation. And especially, is a reason to be suspicious of everything she did. But I of course can't read her mind, only look at what she did do and what there's proof of. Allegedly.

Seems like an extreme extant to go to to to get an extra kiss from an actor, right? An actor who, mind you, dated other people, not her, and seemed to ultimately choose his dog over anyone. And of course, since we're speculating.

Under the pretense that 'Peggy' gets 'Steve', 'she' got the 'man' that everyone else wanted, right? She lived that fantasy, married him, and had kids with him, and everyone else is just jealous of her. The characters are meant for each other, she can take no blame in what's done with the characters.

Except when encouraging hatred among her fans and negative press for the company and story so long as it doesn't revolve around her.

In this light, looking at the facts, her alleged behavior is extremely creepy.

When you consider the fact that Evans suddenly, and I mean suddenly wanted to quit playing the character, seemingly out of nowhere when just a year before still wanting to do so, and at the same time, he admitted to loving the idea of continuing to play Cap, and even the prospect of doing a movie with Deadpool and Wolverine. Something that would have been brilliant by the way, and I lament that it apparently won't happen every day.

Source

Yes, there is a very special relationship there, read a fucking comic~.

Let's consider the fact that Evans said this about his 'final scene of Endgame'. To sow just a little bit of discord. Of course, there's no guarantee that this scene had anything to do with that one he shared with 'Peggy'. Speculation.

Let's assume it did. Let's go beyond and say, Hayley was the entire reason Evans wanted to quit. The entire reason he wouldn't fight this, and was done playing the character. Let's assume this was the last straw for him, and that he quit just to get away from her.

Allegedly.

Let's assume for just a moment, he was no longer comfortable or happy around this woman. And she was breaking him down. Let's assume he was just tired of all the bullshit, had maybe even seen it for what it really was, was even creeped out. And decided, sure. 'I'll keep my mouth shut... as long as I don't have to deal with her'.

We can also assume he's being... strongarmed into silence somehow, either by the company or by her. Maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but that man hasn't looked the slightest bit happy as of late, and it's noticeable in his interviews. Maybe there's a reason for that. But maybe this idea is pushing it a tad too far, let's take a step back for a moment and remember the simple fact that this is speculation.

Based on alleged actions and circumstantial evidence.

I could absolutely be wrong and I am willing to admit that.

If Chris Evans wanted to call me out on this, correct me about Atwell and her behavior specifically towards him in this regard, I would welcome it. Even if he managed to prove me wrong about the bullying, provide an article or interview of some kind that does in fact prove her innocence, I would be more than happy to take a look at it and retract everything I've mentioned here regarding her, and her behavior. Even delete this post, and publicly apologize to her.

I want to be wrong about this, because it is fucked up, it is creepy, it is something he should not have had to, or have to ever deal with. It is not something Emily should have ever had to deal with, let alone the fans.

Nor is it something that we should simply tolerate and accept from Hayley Atwell. From or towards anyone.

Chris Evans is a human being. Emily VanCamp is a human being. Both of them deserved the utmost respect from Atwell, along with everyone else, neither of them received this from her. Allegedly.

The messages conveyed by that rottenly horrific ending can't even begin to compare to how important this simple fact is.

Real people were hurt. Bullies were rewarded. This should not have happened. We cannot simply allow it to happen now, or in the future. We cannot simply allow more harm to be done, with the continued bullying from that Hydra Support Group I mentioned, and their continued attempts to get Emily fired and Sharon removed from the comics.

That they quite clearly don't give a shit to buy or even read.

Why is this important now, of all times, during a pandemic that is keeping us all indoors with nothing better to do?

Well for one, I'm indoors with nothing better to do than come across bullshit like this. There's also something to be publicly said about female abusers and how important it is that we start to recognize when these situations might be happening. Whether from a man or a woman. And whether to a man, or another woman. If she didn't hurt Chris, she certainly didn't hesitate to hurt Emily.

I have friends... that were living their lives off of the messages Cap taught and inspired in people. Good friends, good people. And maybe it seems silly to linger on something like that, but I can say first hand it is heartbreaking to watch those people get that same inspiration, those same moral messages ripped away, and stolen from them.

And be left struggling with trying to hold on to those messages, but try as they may, not being able to. And then come a few epiphanies, a few discoveries.

This shit. The bullying. The behavior, the fact that we as fans were given a normalized abusive relationship, and told it was somehow good, somehow just, somehow right. That that's the message we are being given in place of everything else...

I had a friend have a panic attack because of this ending, after she tried to rationalize that it was okay, that it was 'sweet', and 'cute', and understandable. Because it hit a little too fucking close to home for her, and now she just relives that, remembers it with almost any part of what her favorite thing in the world was. And that is horrifying to know...

“I helped support this. I gave them money. I dedicated years of my life to following this.”

And it goes so much more beyond regretting that decision. It goes so much more beyond being able to simply move on and somehow keep those symbols, or at least the core messages beyond them and disassociate them from the characters when you can't escape reminders of it. When you can see so incredibly clearly what it really means, what really happened, and everyone else around you just accepts that something so fundamentally wrong is something right.

Here's a question, can you sue a company that's so profoundly built an empire, so embedded itself into your day to day life that you can't escape a personal trauma being reminded of it in something you paid for and actively support for years from this company? Does that count as some form of being publicly irresponsible and projecting harmful ideologies?

Is that something someone can do, or is it just something a 'Karen' would do? Would the sheer evil it takes to become that type of person, to dawn that haircut and demand to speak to a manager be worth it in the end?

“What did it cost?”

“Everything...”

Yeah, it really fucking did.

Oh hey, by the way. Hayley Atwell is definitely a Karen. Just thought I might point that out. Why else would she throw a massive tantrum to get someone bullied out of a franchise because she's not getting her way or the spotlight on her? She's just an evolved one.

Allegedly.

I am all for people policing their own content and being respectful of creators, and understanding that fiction is different from reality. Not every concept will be stomachable or enjoyable by absolutely everyone. Horror in itself is a perfect example of that, especially psychological horror.

I can also say without a doubt that I hate knowing that the people I care about are so heavily affected by something they had initially used to make themselves a better person, that should remain fictional and symbolic but just somehow forces itself to go beyond that.

I hate knowing a corporation could be so irresponsible that this is the message they get billions of dollars for, that this is what they give to the public, that this lack of care or even noticing what they've done and who they've rewarded, and the continued behavior...

The bullying, and despite every piece of criticism screaming at them just how fucked up this is.

But no, they can't take two fucking seconds, to think 'maybe we made a bad move and shouldn't stick by this considering what it's done or is doing to fans'. 'Maybe we should be more responsible with the power and influence we happen to have'...

Except they knew.

“It might end the whole franchise.”

What kind of context am I supposed to imagine for those words. Especially in light of a franchise that had a multitude of plans to continue.

What the fuck does that mean?

And isn't that the most piss soaked cherry on top of this shit cake?

Hayley's words in the interview represent how little she cared about the character, about the franchise, about the fans, or the messages conveyed, as long as she got what she wanted.

And she did.

Publicly... adored... psychopath.

Allegedly.

Cap's core message is something so incredibly vital, I believe, to this world. Especially in these times. Especially when it comes to making progress.

“Doesn't matter what the press says. Doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. Doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right. This nation was founded on one principle above all else: the requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world –"No, you move."”

Especially in a world that will actively tell and show us that human lives aren't worth a dime a fucking dozen to the people we let control our world. Especially when we should be telling these same people.

“No, fuck you, that's wrong.”

And yeah, that fucking sucks. It fucking sucks to have family that is vulnerable to something potentially deadly, to be vulnerable to it, and have no control over that. It fucking sucks to know people you may trust will not even give a shit. And it is fucking hard to keep hope when everything around you just seems to be falling apart.

And you can't do a damn thing.

But this message teaches us just that. To not lose hope. To not lose faith. To keep fighting for what we believe in, and make things better. Isn't that the whole point of criticism? Challenging ideas, beliefs, so that we can discern right from wrong and have a better understanding of what that might be? So that we can improve? What a hell of time it would be to have this message with us. What a hell of a time for us to need this message, now more than anything... and not have it.

What a hell of a time for someone to willingly quit portraying and sending that message... Though I can't say I'd blame him, he's only human, it's a heavy burden to bear, and if Atwell really did do all of this just to kiss him... Allegedly.

Well, I'd wanna get away from her too. Provided it was willing at all. I get mixed signals from that guy. And trust him about as far as I can throw him. I am a weak bitch, so that is not very far... But... professional liar, so.

He could also be the world's biggest troll, cause I don't believe for a second he didn't know how fans would react to this. Which... biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch. But also, RESPECT.

And also, BITCH! Be serious for a goddamn second, this is fucking important!

But this message also teaches rebellion.

What a hell of a message to publicly squander in order to keep people complacent, for the sake of pretending someone gets a 'happy' horrific ending, finally getting laid. Like neither of those things were something that couldn't be found in the future while still preserving the legacy of the character.

Right?

Ironically, it was a message they had helped to represent with Sharon, and still there's the issue of her and fans being publicly bullied and disrespected, once again, a real person, people, for Atwell's sake.

If we only surround ourselves by those that tell us what we want to hear, rather than the truth, we can only stagnate our growth.

If we only care when we are finally forced to face the problems evident, can we really call ourselves virtuous?

If we do nothing knowing something is wrong, what does this say about us?

I'm just as guilty in not noticing these sorts of things as they happen until it's too late, but I'd like to hope I'm getting better and paying more attention, and that we can still do better.

What's the point of all this, and what can we do?

As I said before, I do not want to cause harm. I do not want people to go and harass anyone for alleged wrong doings or behavior of any sort. I do not want people to lose entire jobs or livelihoods over this. But it is clear something is wrong, and we certainly need to right it. I also don't believe any of the parties involved are somehow beyond redemption. Even Hayley.

If Marvel had any sense, especially now, they would retcon this, however necessary, first off. They don't even need Evans to do that, they can do something as simple as making a comic that undoes this nasty ending and saves Cap, and the other characters, from being made into an empty shell and castrated version of himself. Or at least make a solid plan to and very publicly apologize to Emily for the situation and discourage such behavior among their fandom. Hayley would do the same, not just to fans but especially to Emily, and maybe even Chris.

If you ever participated in this behavior and now understand that it was wrong, I would encourage you to go give Emily your love and support and apologize to her for this mess and what she had to deal with on behalf of fans. She deserved far better. She still deserves better.

If Hayley refused to acknowledge or even publicly address this? Or Marvel, Disney for that matter, well it would just go to show that they'd want it all swept under the rug instead of being held accountable for what happened. Something that's certainly a disrespect to Walt Disney , as he was able to make amends and admit to his mistakes publicly, and it's a stain on the legacy he left behind that the current Disney can hardly be bothered to.

And yes, believe it or not, there's a way to not let them do this without aggressive harassment.

My first suggestion is meme the shit out of it. Be an absolute troll and make a joke of this giant fucking joke of a company that can't even put two and two together for basic story elements. To an extant that will publicly embarrass them for sure, be relentless, but don't send hate.

Just show everyone the clowns they are~.

I've been told this can also be a bit mean though. And clearly, we can't simply let them forget it or forget it ourselves.

The second, ask questions. Simply ask for this to be addressed, try to get it noticed as best you can. Send them this across as many platforms as you can to as many people as you can. Or even just the smaller blogs I linked. Repost, reblog, and share this as much as you can and make it something they can't ignore without sending them direct hate and harassment. Copy and paste or just send a link to this in a concerned email to the corporation. Make sure their offices are absolutely buzzing with the news. Ask, don't demand, your favorite MCU actors to publicly speak out about this, please. Keep asking until you get some sort of response.

Without being rude.

Because it may take time, it may take effort, but it is important, and it certainly should be addressed. And never allowed to happen again.

As for Atwell and her bullies?

Well, first let me congratulate her.

She played herself. All those jokes about turning Peggy into a supervillain and that's exactly what she did. With her own wants and desires, not Peggy's.

But otherwise be kind, be courteous, and hold your grace and elegance. Treat her with the same respect you would want for yourself and do not stoop to her or their level. Do not insult her. Ask her, 'what's wrong'? Ask her why she did this, if she's okay. Ask her to stop, to speak out about it, to address the situation and to understand why she didn't do it sooner. Ask her if she's seeking help for whatever psychological issues she may have that would push her to do something like this, wish her well, and tell her you hope she finds the help she needs and learns that what she did was wrong. Let her know you're disappointed if you're a fan.

She definitely shouldn't be allowed to keep relishing in the reward and aftermath of what she did, and she definitely owes Emily, and possibly Chris, an apology for all the bullshit she encouraged and did. Her behavior, allegedly, is fucking creepy.

But she's still a human being, behaviors are correctable.

Simply address the fact that it was wrong and ask her if she understands that. Also maybe that... public molestation isn't okay? Allegedly.

Do the same for her bullies, if they are rude to you, simply tell them:

'Oh... you support Hydra... you're entitled to your opinion, but I'll have to disagree.'

And leave it at that. Just take comfort in the fact that you can recognize an abusive relationship and don't support it. You cannot force them to change their minds if they don't want to, do not antagonize them or potentially bring harm to yourself by doing so. And yes, that is admittedly a bit mean, a bit trollish~, and the reality is they probably don't support Hydra... But they also kinda have to to support this ending somehow.

The writers 'confirmed' Hydra Trash Party as canon while the directors 'confirmed' everyone in Steve's life being replaceable.

And he still becomes a creepy uncle while someone needs to suffer on his behalf for 70 years.

Fantastic~! I'm accepting neither and I give you no money until it's fixed! Because it's gross~!

If this situation is addressed by everyone involved, and any allegations and speculations I've made are in fact proven true, but let's say Atwell still publicly refuses to admit to anything she did or apologize to Emily. Even if Disney does. Well, she'll be proving exactly what type of person we suspect her to be. And only then would I consider it acceptable for the company to completely erase her from the franchise in turn and blacklist her from what they produce. Some people might consider that too nice, I think it's reasonable, you're free to disagree.

Not necessarily her character though, Peggy has actually done nothing wrong on her own, she's a fictional character best represented by good writers, and malleable according to that. And I would certainly even encourage much better character explorations and portrayals of her. But Hayley herself, who would then become pretty much a poster child for harassment and bullying, and defending psychopathic behaviors...

Allegedly.

If people try to silence you, ignore you, keep trying, keep spreading the message, keep going as much as you can, until we manage to get this addressed and the situation finally corrected.

Do not support the company, or actress that refuses to address this. Do not support people that do terrible things without holding them accountable. Do not allow them to simply get away with it, but do not lose your own humanity for their sake.

I know first hand how fucking hard it is not to lose your shit when shit like this happens. And nobody notices. But I guarantee, throwing a fit of rage will get nothing done, and they will try to use it against you.

If they manage to prove me wrong in any regards? Great! I will be fucking overjoyed! I hate the idea that evil is actively happening in the world and people do nothing about it, don't you?

And a friendly reminder.

You are not in anyway required to purchase anything from Marvel, any of the actual bullshit content and harmful ideas they refuse to take any criticism or responsibility for. You are not obligated to them just because you are a fan, and you do not owe them anything. If they want our money, they can earn it, but you can definitely get your fixes of good creative content elsewhere, and even support other artists. If this is what they provide, you do not have to support them. You can make your own. For free. And enjoy what others make for free. For any and all people part of an intricate creative community, fan fiction does not just have to be trashy romance or gay ass ships. That is a huge chunk of it, I won't even bother lying about that, I'm under no illusions otherwise.

But it can also be just simple storylines based off what canons you like, simple fan comics that maybe present a different sort of story arc you aren't seeing developed and wonder where you might go with it. It can be action, scifi, fantasy, horror. It can be any sort of fusion that you would enjoy. It can even be insanely good or horrendously bad! It can even be original fiction! And yes, you're more than allowed to publicly critique and parody the work these companies sell you, go write ahead~, and make a point of making something better. Because you can.

Or it can be shipping wars and nonsensical shit and trashy romance and smut. Again, no illusions that there's not a whole lot of that shit.

Or crack. Lots of crack fic.

But the beauty of it is that it's up to you. And you don't owe anyone anything because everything you get to make is free. But keep in mind that goes both ways in this aspect. For you and others, and I'd wager to say there are a lot of writers out there that can definitely do these characters and their messages a much better justice than the disservice and disrespect Marvel has given them and the fans. Especially as of late.

Lastly, especially in these times... do not lose hope.

Do not lose faith in the message Steve Rogers stands for, or in the hopes things may get better. For all of us. And for the character? That he may just yet be saved from quite plainly, all the bullshit. That any of your favorite characters might be given better treatment down the line. And if not?

Save 'em yourself. Make it better yourself. And make it known, no matter what happens, no matter what they do, these messages can't be squandered or destroyed. Hold them dear, and don't accept anything less than them being upheld, no matter how it's represented.

Particularly when you're paying for it. Don't harass small time writers that write self indulgent bullshit for free. Just police your content accordingly, please.

But the message?

That's what's important.

In conclusion?

'Logan' was the better movie. Hayley turned Peggy into 'Monika' of Doki Doki Literature Club. And Chris Evans chose his dog.

“I don't like bullies... I don't care where they're from.”

;)

[oristromboli]

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 3

Chapter 3: Straw Dogs

Childe cocks an eyebrow, smirk barely melting into a snarl. “And what would you know? You stay behind the scenes while the rest of us do real work.”

Scaramouche's slow smile is poisonous and laced with contempt as he hisses, “You should know there is a Liyue saying that goes ‘Heaven and Earth are impartial, treating all creatures like straw dogs.’ When the sacrifices have fulfilled their purpose, they are discarded because there is no more use and care for such worthless objects. Didn’t dear Morax tell you of this philosophy himself, Childe?”

(Smut this chapter: Zhongli/Childe)

In your dreams, you hear maniacal laughter ring around you. Somehow the emptiness begins to oscillate, reaching towards you with endless gnarled limbs and bloodshot eyes that won’t stop watching. You back into a wall that wasn’t there before, unforgiving edges all but flaying the skin on your back as you try to escape.

They’re coming.

You turn and run. There’s a golden light beckoning you, so you urge your legs to go faster, but the light never gets closer. If anything, it grows more distant. This path will end in madness.

They’re coming.

You decide a new route to traverse before those twisted hands seize you. When was there water? Is it water? It grows thicker, warmer, rises to your knees, your chest, your throat. You can’t breath. You’re drowning.

They’re coming. And you’re alone.

 ---

 You feel a hand on your shoulder gently shaking you awake, fear seizing your throat in a silent gasp as you try to orient yourself. You’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe, you’re okay. When you look to your right, Aether’s golden eyes meet your own as he stands near your bed with the Seelie fastidiously hanging by his side. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his pupils are blown too.

Neither of you say anything as you open your blanket and he crawls in to join you, tucking against your side to hide his face. Each night spent chained to this world you witness a new side to Aether as he comes undone at the seams.

He and Lumine were inseparable. She shouldered all his secrets, as he did hers. When they rescued you that night so many centuries ago, you promised to safeguard the two of them while they covered each other. You did not need to know everything that happened between them and before your arrival, just as they did not ask for you to fill all the holes in their understanding of you.

This night – the night immediately after facing a fallen god’s wrath – you both hug each other tightly. Is this how it felt to be on the other end of the heavens’ sword? Though Zhongli left Liyue to fend for themselves as a test, you still cannot help but feel angry with the silence of your own people as you were both abandoned without care.

Realization dawns through that cracked armor about how broken you both feel without your divine powers. How cold without that eternal light, Lumine. What did she feel in her last moments, what hatred for the skies?

Still, this is enough. Sorrow needs a place to sleep, needs hands to hold its delicate shape and say it is alright. It is not always loud, nor sharp, nor clean. Sometimes, it just needs a place to rest until morning.

“I miss her,” he mumbles, barely audible above your own heartbeat.

“Me too.”

This is enough.

 ---

 Xiao turns his head, heeds the all too familiar calls of a nightmare. Just call his name Aether, just utter it once and he’ll be there. When silence is all that greets him, Xiao instead follows that smokey trail until he comes upon the inn’s room. The fight with Osial is fresh in his mind, so he imagines the same must be said of Aether and yourself. Both of you hold the other tightly, blissfully unaware of the vigilante keeping watch.

Xiao wants to lean forward, to brush Aether’s hair out of his face and say it’s alright, but he refrains from encroaching more than he already is. Instead, the adeptus leaves an offering of herbs that relax the mind on the windowsill for their discovery.

When the morning arrives, Aether is the first to wake and finds the gift left behind. Even if there’s no name attached, he knows precisely who left it. A boyish smile breaks on his face as he leans out the window to smell the fresh air and, admittedly, try to catch sight of the adeptus. “Thank you, Xiao,” Aether murmurs with the full force of his sincerity, pure and golden. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but come to me whenever you can’t sleep either. Maybe I can sing you a lullaby.”

Do adepti even sleep? Aether shakes his head at himself, but he doesn’t stop smiling. He hopes that one day, the yaksha will take him up on his offer.

On the inn’s rooftop overlooking Liyue Harbor, Xiao’s heart flickers with hope.

 ---

 Childe flexes his arm, raising his fist back and forth to test the ligaments and muscles. They work fine, but he still feels that dark electricity pulsing; in some ways, he feels as though he’s the marionette being strung along. The Foul Legacy Transformation always collects its toll, and each day Tartaglia fights, he fights to gain the strength to beat back that beast that lingers in his peripheral.

He wonders if each time he transforms, a bit more of his soul returns to the abyss, how soon the day will come that the Harbinger is dragged back. Though, if the Tsaritsa ever catches wind, he’s sure the ever-curious and macabre Dottore would become his new best friend. How nice. If that’s not depressing, he’s not sure what is.

“Childe,” Zhongli calls. He snaps out of his reverie and an easy smile slides back into place, fitting perfectly with his wayward good looks. The ex-god is staring at him, gripping his bowl of noodles and wielding his chopsticks with a deft precision Childe knows he’ll never achieve.

He wonders how many people have been killed by those hands.

“You appear lost in thought once more,” Zhongli rumbles, stare becoming more intense.

“Ah! Forgive me, I am just reflecting on my trip with Teucer. Took a bit out of me, ya know,” he replies, shrugging genially. Best not to dwell on the negatives. Though it took many long hours of meditation – he still remembers his frustration at just trying to sit still because who the fuck does that willingly – at Zhongli’s suggestion, no less, Tartaglia finds it easier to manage his impulsive thoughts before they follow the most practical (cynical) route. After all, he’s trained warrior and follows one rule: ‘Don’t let the enemy see you bleed.’

“I see.”

Well shit. Broke rule number one.

The pair are sitting at one of the tables at Liuli Pavilion at the god’s behest; it’s been a handful of weeks since the… incident, and barely one since Teucer decided to surprise him. They’ve met more often than perhaps the last months leading up to the fateful encounter at the Golden House, especially with Childe’s time in Liyue coming to a close within the week. Each spare moment is split between the Travelers and Zhongli. At first, Childe admits, he dragged the former Archon along to properly size him up, try to understand where exactly he fucked up his estimations of his character. Though he’s been called back to Zapolyarny Palace, Childe notes that the order recalling him does not say to stop observing Zhongli.

So he does just that. It’s for the Tsaritsa, he tries justifying to himself, nothing more than selfish curiosity. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Not for the first time, Tartaglia ignores this… intensity in his chest, burning traitorously bright and intense and passionate when he sees the god. Childe thinks back to his journey of how this came about: orders turned to curiosity, turned to attempted manipulations, turned to genuine fondness and betrayal and – and –

As though reading his thoughts, Zhongli puts down the bowl, his full attention on Tartaglia now. Great. “It is more than Teucer and your injuries. Did you truly recover?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m always getting stronger, remember?” Right?

Amber eyes narrow. “Did you recover?”

Ah.

“Mm, yeah, still trying to figure out how you managed to guess so easily that I would resort to summoning Osial to get to you.” They both know he’s lying through his teeth, but Zhongli thankfully plays along this time.

“To be fair, your character is straight forward.”

Childe laughs, bright and genuine for the first time this conversation. “I, Tartaglia, am the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui! The Vanguard of the Harbingers. How dare you say that I am so easy to read, when I have always been the first sent to initiate bloodshed, as according to our many long and boring schemes.” The last parts of his sentence fizzles out as his nose curls in distaste. Show no weakness. “Well, in any case, you know I never enjoyed that stuff anyway. Take it head on or don’t at all.”

Zhongli nods, understanding his meaning. Childe maneuvers his head to find amber eyes and raises his eyebrows, suggestive and giddy; he saw in Zhongli an intelligent man before, but now? Oh, oh! A battleworthy opponent. Maybe the god picked up on his not-so-subtle hints for a fight?

“I am still not going to spar you.”

Worth a shot.

“Ah, well, I tried.” Childe reaches for a pair of chopsticks and tries again. When both men watch as the Fatui manages to pick up a piece of meat without trouble, there’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, warm and nostalgic. It settles deep between them.

“You know…” Childe starts, looking at Zhongli, really looking at him, soft eyes reflecting something foreign in those ocean blues. “I appreciate your consideration for me. Really. You won, fair and square, checkmate and all. I hope to one day be able to manipulate the battlefield as excellently.”

Zhongli returns his smile, and Childe ignores the something that falls in his heart. “Understanding your opponents is half the battle, both literally and figuratively,” the god laughs, clearly amused at his own play on words. He joins in, if only to indulge the silly man.

Another silence. He looks around them and releases a deep sigh. Yeah, okay, he can admit privately that this is nice.

“Do you ever feel bad about it?” he asks suddenly, surprising them both. Now, where the fuck did that come from?

When he thinks of you, Childe feels something else, something cold settle beside his confusion, a sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time. Guilt. Of course, his companion understands the unspoken implications, eyes falling to the ring Childe wears. Both men still remember vividly how violently you three reacted, all teeth and pain and fury bared. He has long since made peace with you, but…

He looks to the boats on the ocean, swaying back and forth, back and forth. His heart moves with them. Something feels unsettled, unsaid… A loose thread. Childe’s heart squeezes at that thought. Fantastic.

“I have no regrets,” Zhongli replies, tone firm and final, clearly choosing his words carefully and mindful for any straining ears. “I did what was best. Moves and countermoves. All things can be bargained in the end, and Liyue won its right to be independent that day.”

Blue eyes narrow. “Bargained?  You mean bought?” He rolls the word around his tongue, tasting it. Yeah, no. Tastes like shit. “You think people can be treated like that so easily?”

Neither of them needs to say it, but both know of the lingering bitterness towards the Tsaritsa. Childe adores her attitude of achieving harmony at any cost, including war, but the underhanded nature of being used himself makes him feel less like a general and more like a pawn. Even there, in Liyue’s hot climate, is her frozen heart felt. However, Zhongli narrows his own eyes. “Are you not the leader of the Northland Bank?”

Childe scoffs and is the first to break the impromptu staring contest. “That’s different, people knew what they were getting into. They didn’t. I… I made a mistake and apologized, but still. It feels… Wrong. I feel wrong.”

“Because you feel as though you sunk to the Tsaritsa’s level?” Zhongli’s soft voice tugs Childe back into looking at him, and he immediately regrets it. Oh. Oh man. He’s very… intensely feeling something for this man. What is it? Everything and nothing. Fondness, yes, warmth, yes, but nothing of that garbage in those cheap romance novels his sisters love to read. Nothing… fuzzy, because truly no, that’s not right either, doesn’t feel right. Childe swallows and nods.

“Yeah,” he croaks. Wow. Really pathetic, but whatever, all pretenses are gone now between them. Right? “We’re good now, yeah? We’re being honest with each other? Have been? Will be?” Childe winces lightly at how quickly he rattled those off like he’s trying to reassure himself more than Zhongli. In a way, he is.

“We are, have been, will be,” the consultant responds, voice lighter and taking Childe’s heart with him.

“Cool.”

A beat.

“But you still didn’t answer my question. Do you really think of us mort- people so low?”

Something else emerges, not unfamiliar when he thinks of the god. Frustration, irritation. Nothing new, but again, not right either.

Zhongli tilts his head, not unlike a cat with golden pupils in slits. Ah, he’s cute, cute in the same way the furry little creatures are before they leap at their prey. The god rolls his head briefly like he’s trying to shake his own thoughts out, untangle them.

From what?

“Do you wish for my response as a mortal, or as my… previous station?”

Ah. Choosing between which face to use. Tartaglia understands this intimately and finds another piece of common ground to stand with the old god.

“Both.”

“Mortals fascinate me, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I am afforded the luxury of… Walking as one. Experiencing life as they do.”

“Wait wait wait wait – “ Childe is shaking his head and holds up his hands. “You say that as if being… you is so different. Is it?”

“In a way, it is,” Zhongli nods. “As someone of my age, knowing of the limitless future, there is no need to attempt to comprehend anything beyond the next battle, the next project for my people. What time wounds will be mended by time once more. If we are being honest –“

“We are.”

“I never cared for understanding the inner workings to life. I could not during those days, I stood as the stone shield to protect my companions. Instead, I faced my problems head on, relentless and straightforward and precise. Actions and emotions were separated; one could not reflect upon the other during times of conflict.”

Childe huffs in a half-hearted laugh. He always pitied the unfortunate souls caught in Zhongli’s spear. “I think I’m starting to see your point Zhongli. Our once-gentle Tsaritsa understands this reality intimately, especially now that she declared the world her enemy to achieve peace.”

“In essence, for the Cryo Archon believes gentleness and humanity to be weaknesses these days.”

“I hear a ‘but’ somewhere in there, though.”

“My friend… Guizhong, she… She understood mortals, encouraged me to watch them and learn, sought for me to unlock what she claimed was true strength. Many weaker gods have passed, their spirits barely a whisper and their memories all but forgotten. Stronger deities, such as Osial, will never truly depart but just slumber for the opportunity to rise again. Even some Adepti linger if they do not choose reincarnation. So then, what did she mean by ‘true strength’? I did not understand.” Zhongli’s voice cracks briefly, so Childe’s hand reaches across the table to grasp the other’s. He offers a comforting smile, a rare sight on a Harbinger’s face, but he regards Zhongli as a truly rare companion worthy of his undying loyalty.

Zhongli returns it and Childe’s heart flutters. He knows that he’s just a mortal, what can he do to protect the God of War? Still, if he can at least stave off some of those bad memories, then it’s worth it. The man rubs slow circles on the god’s hand to ground him to the present.

“As the years passed, I observed. In the end, we are all the same. I have found that a singular purpose guides each individual and drives their spirit to fight, to linger, to be born anew and try again. Understanding that guiding desire is the key to establishing proper contracts.”

“Mm, so, basically, there’s an order to life?” he responds, poking fun at Zhongli’s motto to lighten the atmosphere. Childe’s shit-eating grin grows wide at Zhongli’s dry, unimpressed look that crosses his face. Still, there’s a hint of fondness and gratitude, if Childe squints hard enough. Hey now, he can’t be disappointed in the Fatui’s little jab considering the absolutely dad-styled joke he made earlier.

“Indeed. Gods, adepti, and people can therefore be bought. All things can, even an Archon’s gnosis. We are all equal in that respect.”

Childe nods and retracts his hand to stab a piece of meat with his chopsticks. Nothing threatening, he just needs a way to guide his thoughts. There must be some dubious psychology, though, in deciding his brain is the piece of meat he just committed casual violence against.

The Fatui can’t help but wonder if Zhongli is still missing the big picture in deciding that life can be simplified to a series of contractual choices, even if it eases the immortal’s pain of losing the things he values most over and over again. Then again, does Childe even know what that picture looks like himself? “I get debts, but this feels different, y’know? I understand the value of connections and people more intimately than most, but… People aren’t things. You can’t completely own them for the sake of having them.”

(Morax, the glaze lilies around him whisper, you cannot hoard people.)

“Then,” Zhongli says, ignoring the voices of times past, “What do you call your collection of these valuable people?”

Childe laughs, full and bright and roguish. “Give and take, my friend! Give and take. All things must be equal in the end as you said yourself, no?”

 ---

 “Why him?”

The Tsaritsa’s icy gaze pierces his own, and Zhongli’s lips quirk up, the only indication of any betraying thoughts lurking behind that stony visage.

They both know he allowed her to the courtesy of witnessing it.

“Your other Harbingers all lurk within the shadows, but from what you describe, Tartaglia wields them like a weapon. He is a refined tool for chaos. No one else is mad enough to summon a long-dead deity.”

“Whatever I ask of my Harbingers, they will bring. Signora can summon Osial all the same. So, I ask again, why him?” Her eyes challenge him, demonstrating her confidence in front of the oldest of the Seven.

How arrogant of her.

“Two Archons already lay their claim on him, do they not? Vision and Delusion,” he replies.

“Moves and countermoves.”

“So why not him, Tsaritsa?”

Her biting laugh suddenly rings out, bouncing against the ice around them. “Morax, you are indeed cruel for nothing to escape you. Perhaps he is perfect for your plans, then, as malleable as that boy is. Very well. I will assign him to Liyue.”

Zhongli’s fists curl behind his back. So little regard for the mortals under her charge, so little care.

The Tsaritsa waves her hand dismissively. “It is merely coincidence that the boy is favored. He just embodies the valued qualities of our nations, I assure you. You will find him most agreeable.”

One eyebrow arches. “Whether I find him agreeable is irrelevant. As long as he fulfills his designated purpose, I am content.”

She looks at him, studies him. “Indeed.”

 ---

 “Why him?”

Zhongli looks to Ganyu, curious and gentle eyes flickering between his. They stand on Mt. Tianheng, watching the harbor rebuild. It’s been a few hours since his lunch with Childe, and he agreed to meet with one of his most loyal – and oldest – friends afterwards. Ganyu is one of the few adepti who have,  presently, seen him physically outside of gifted visions and dreams. He was always fond of her company, even if the young qilin has an unwavering habit of napping precisely when it was most inconvenient.

“You have taken many lovers over the years, participated in contractual commitment, as per customary of your gifts. Never with someone so impish, though. Why him?” Her questions are not frigid, imperial, challenging; no, she asks out of genuine concern and care for his wellbeing. Always the soothing soul.

He smiles at her. “It is because of his impish behaviors I find him so interesting.” Turning back towards the harbor, he pauses for a beat before continuing. “This is not the first time I have courted and taken lovers, and eventually, he too discovered my real identity. All of my lovers understood precisely who they were engaging themselves with.”

Her eyes follow his to the harbor, lost in thought. Idly, she reaches for some leaves in a silk flower shrub to her right, tempted to pluck its leaves to eat. A nervous habit. “Yes. But none were so disrespectful.”

Zhongli chuckles, rich and true, no longer burdened with maintaining appearances. “You are correct. His treatment of me did not change after learning of my identity, the first mortal to dare such behavior. No, he still treats me as his equal, not as a god. He cared for me at first as an enemy, but now, his heart pours generosity regardless of old wounds and without expectation of anything in return.”

Give and take. Childe is breaking his own rules once again.

Soft lips curl around your name, Ganyu’s questions endless now that it has been unleashed. “What of her? Why? She is the first immortal you have been enamored with since the glaze lilies wilted.”

Zhongli crosses his arms and closes his eyes, contemplating his answer. A distant and wistful expression breaks, though Ganyu cannot see it. “Because the Travelers are most curious beings. They have shared in burdens similar to my own, and I find it comforting to know that there are others who understand deeply what I feared to be alone in ever since she left.”

The waters of time have worn away his stone heart, and yet… He feels renewed, like spring has finally arrived after leaving him so many lifetimes ago.

“Celestia’s burdens are now put to rest, Ganyu. Where before I did not end my duties for fear of a lack of purpose beyond that point, I realize now that I am free to pursue what I could never have. Serendipity would have it that I have found attractive companions to walk it with. Perhaps this is her final trial for me.”

“But, Zhongli… She is not Guizhong.” The unspoken warning lingers in the air.

(Do not dishonor living company with the memories of those long dead.)

“I know.” Soft leather creaks as his fingers tighten.

(I won’t.)

She fears for her master’s softened soul, though she remains too loyal to speak.

Ganyu’s lips purse and she thinks once again of those reflective blue eyes, of Tartaglia’s fierce dedication to duty and love of battle, of how he cares only for the satisfaction of the next victory. She thinks of a younger Morax, tall and proud as he led their people to glory with jade shields and obsidian spears.

What, then, is Tartaglia trying to protect?

How interesting that this mortal mirrors so much of the deity before her; the birth of one, the death of another.

“The timing is interesting for your mortal paramour as well; do you not agree?” She hesitates, attempting to choose her next words with, perhaps, greater care than she does for the Qixing. “How she falls from the heavens, how he walks into your life now that you are free to explore it.”

Zhongli waves his hand dismissively before he catches himself. “Merely coincidence.”

Ganyu narrows her eyes this time. “You do not believe in coincidence.”

He doesn’t respond.

 ---

 Ajax sits in his bed, flipping his dagger around and around, vulnerable and alone in his thoughts. The new moon gives way to a blanket of stars, distant but lingering nonetheless. When the man looks to his left, the chopsticks Zhongli gave him those many months ago rest undisturbed.

He grins then, uninhibited delight gleaming. “Well well well, anything can be mastered, right?” It’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep anytime soon with the way his mind races. Ajax groans as he reaches over to grasp the utensils and stands, stretching out the day’s stress.

He has time to prove Zhongli wrong, he can master these infernal sticks or he doesn’t deserve the title of Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui. At the very least, he wants to eat a full meal with the man without resorting to just stabbing his food because that’s just downright pathetic. The Harbinger looks out his window again to the sky, a twinkle in his eye, before turning around, set on finding some leftovers to practice on.

The stars certainly appreciate the ensuing clumsy entertainment.

 ---

 Another day, another meal. Come on, Childe tells himself, this is it, this will be the one-

The noodles slide out of his chopsticks’ grip, and he sighs, tossing his head back and running his left hand through his orange locks. “Pretty sure I’m just cursed at this point…”

He smiles when he hears Zhongli snickering with at least some decency to try to cover his mouth.

“You know, the Travelers have no issue applying themselves to those tools, so why do you?” Childe snorts, but only kicks the other under the table.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, you know,” he starts casually. Zhongli looks at him, eyebrow quirked, but a smirk emerges nonetheless.

“Oh? Is this another one of your jokes, Childe?”

He laughs, shaking his head with a mischievous expression to match. “Nah. It’s okay, you know, I don’t mind. Our little… Stress relief is not exclusive.” At that, Zhongli’s eyes narrow. He slowly leans forward and steeples his gloved fingers, resting his chin on them, deep in thought. Was it… Did Zhongli not believe him? “ ‘m being honest,” he says as he raises his hands in a show of peace.

“I know you are. Which is why I’m curious.”

Childe gulps, suddenly very aware of the scrutiny he’s put under. He has nothing to hide, but Zhongli’s boring into him like the man grew a second head. “About what?”

The god leans back and picks up his chopsticks, apparently having decided on whatever it is that Childe just blurted. He doesn’t respond, but his shoulders shake with contained laughter like he’s in on some inside joke, and oh, the asshole. “Hey, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. About what?”

Amber eyes flick up at him, amusement just rolling off of him in waves. “About why you did not pursue her yourself. You are not the only observant one here.”

Whatever happened to don’t let them see you bleed? He winces and starts a plastic laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Why does the old man never pull any punches? “Ah, well, y’know…” A gloved hand waves around pathetically, trying to somehow grab the words out of thin air to explain for him. “She’s just so distant. And angry. And strong.”

“Like that ever stopped you. As a matter of fact,” Zhongli purrs, “I recall that exciting you.”

“Har har, just don’t go around telling everyone about my kinks, alright? Besides, we started this little thing of ours before that whole fiasco, but don’t get me wrong, this is just all pent-up tension. She isn’t afraid to fight me, like you. Gotta get my sick kicks somewhere else,” Childe grins, eyes daring the other to take the bait.

“Mm, I am not fighting you, comrade.”

“Damn it.”

“But you are simply proving my point, you never back down from a challenge. So why then?” Shit, he has a point. Why didn’t he? Childe only grunts and reaches for a dumpling, intent on trying again and thoroughly exasperated that Zhongli is just deflecting his own curiosity.

“You tell me,” Childe drawls, long and sarcastic. “I thought dear Morax always got what he wanted?” Zhongli sighs and closes his eyes, frustration bubbling forth. Yeah, okay, Childe was being immature, he’ll admit it. Zhongli can go screw himself though, the guy was being annoyingly spot-on.

“Funny how an equally possessive man accuses me as such. I suppose… it did not feel right to start something that is – as you describe it – ‘stress relief’ after the incident. Not with her,” Zhongli’s jaw tightens before he resumes eating, adamant at leaving it like that. Still, Childe nods sagely and without irony this time around. Yeah, that’s a good way to describe it. His feelings for you were no different than his own towards Zhongli, but it was also… Not the same. Your name tastes different in his mouth, left his heart twisting differently, tensing differently.

Otherworldly.

“Gonna have to wait for the bird to want to fly back into the nest this time around after we angered the Travelers, huh?” Yeah, ‘pretty bird’ is probably Childe’s greatest stroke of playful genius, the name seems to suit you in every way he can think of.

His companion grumbles something under his breath before gracing him with an indignant response. “Do you best understand these delicate matters only in terms of the bloody hunter and frightful hunted?”

“You got me there, Zhongli.” With a wolfish grin, he grabs the bottle of baijiu and pours a drink for himself. Oh, how he misses Fire-Water… Soon, Childe reminds himself, soon. “You were right that day, you know. I don’t like losing control over what’s mine. We always tried to win some battle with each other, and we knew what we were doing, even when it was playing the Tsaritsa’s game. The amazing sex was just another aspect to our business relationship in finding the enemy’s weakness.”

Zhongli snorts into his cup. “Do you sleep with all of your business associates?”

“Fuck off, you know you wanted it too. But her? Not all the bargaining chips are on the table. She keeps it pretty close to the chest, and I try not to walk into enemy territory blind. Not always successful though, obviously.”

Zhongli hums along. “You can guess what my next moves are now that you understand who and what I am.”

“Yeah, and at least Aether and the stir-fry have the decency of telling me what’s going on in their head by being obnoxiously loud about it,” Childe grunts. “Not her, though. Not really. I don’t trust her ‘openness,’ nobody shows their emotions that easily. Even blondie and his pet gremlin try to hide some things, but I recognize the way she looks at them when they do a poor job. It’s how she looked at me when I tried to lie to Teucer.” Childe’s nose crinkles fondly at the memory of the loyal knight’s desperate attempts to protect his brother. “I’d say it’s a fair bet whether she would kiss me or kill me first and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. But hey, adds to the thrill of it all.”

“Your masochism will be the death of you one day. Do you have a single care for your well-being? Truly?” Zhongli’s deadpan words are purely rhetorical because they both know the answer.

“Hey! I listen to the doctor when I need to.”

“Mm, and do you pull rank on this Fatui doctor as well?”

“Well, who’s keeping track anyway?”

The god only smiles, affection radiating from his being. “My friend, I treasure our conversations. I will surely miss them.” Childe smiles and laughs with him. He feels good. Yeah. Zhongli makes him feel good. What he feels is thrilled, excited, electrified, but most importantly, genuinely welcomed.

(Welcomed, accepted, cared for. His heart lurches. No right word can describe this, describe how the strange not-humans from Teyvat and beyond took him in without question.)

He’ll miss this too, he concedes without a shred of shame, even if it’s a bittersweet feeling.

“Now then,” Zhongli coughs, before looking back up with the gall to appear sheepish. “About paying for our meal…”

“Oh, fuck you.”

 ---

 Childe’s knuckles rap against Zhongli’s door before pushing it open, pleased but not surprised as the door gives way without protest. He steps inside and removes his shoes by the doorway before padding down the hall, the smell of bamboo shoot soup permeating the hallways. When he enters the kitchen, he finds Zhongli sitting at the table with a bowl already in hand.

“Aw, you started without me?” Childe pouts but steps up to the table nonetheless. Zhongli huffs in amusement.

“I heard you walking up the steps and took the liberty of beginning.”

“Of course you did,” the other replies while rolling his eyes. They finish their meals in peace with little banter flowing between them. After all, both felt the weight of this last night together. As Childe gathers the dishes to place in the sink, he mulls over his own decision for coming over to the ex-Archon’s den. Lust pools in his gut and his selfish body wants to taste Zhongli’s skin one more time. That’s all it is. Pure lust.

As gloved hands slide around his waist, slow and easy, Zhongli perches his head on Childe’s shoulder and rumbles deeply, “Lost in thought, are we?”

He snorts and turns around, tugging the other closer so their hips are flush against each other. When he adjusts himself to a better position, innocent eyes blinking, Zhongli gasps as his own body bucks forward, looking for more friction. “Mm, just wondering what I’ll have to do to get you to show me your hoard, comrade.”

The other man grumbles, but it’s half-hearted and disguises the increases sounds of pleasure threatening to claw out of his throat. “O-Oh? And what makes you think this will aid your investigations?”

Childe flashes his teeth wickedly as he leans down to nip at the other’s ear, all gentle foreplay gone as he immediately bites hard enough to draw blood with his canines. Zhongli groans as he grabs the other’s shoulders, squeezing with force shy enough to break bone. “Don’t underestimate my tactics, comrade,” he purrs. Zhongli looks at him, eyes hooded and panting before he keens when Childe’s hand slides down to cup his half-hard bulge.

At the insistent whining, Childe leans forward and captures his lips, shoving the other forward and off of him. Zhongli grunts but follows his orders obediently as Childe maneuvers them to the bedroom before he sits down on the bed, yanking the former Archon by the tie to his knees. He falls and leans forward, begging for another kiss as his eyes keep staring at Childe’s plump lips. The man obliges and delights at the speed he’s given permission to explore. Fuck, who would’ve thought that Rex Lapis would be such a bitch when you kiss him right?

He pulls back and smirks at the shivering mess before him that shuffles forward to nudge Childe’s straining bulge and lick along the clothess concealing it. “Look at you,” Childe coos, “you’re so pathetic, you want my cock that badly, huh?”

“Y-yes,” Zhongli rasps and moans brokenly when Childe’s hands snake into his hair to pull him up off his knees slightly, his own hands grasping Childe’s thighs for purchase. When the Harbinger ups the ante by reaching his right hand down the other’s pants to grab his leaking cock, hard, Zhongli nearly shouts as his face twists in pleasure. “Please, Childe, more. I want more – “ His voice cuts off into another broken moan when Childe gives a few leisurely pumps, blue eyes watching the other wickedly.

“You want? Comrade, just what do you think an interrogation is? You don’t get to want anything,” he growls and retreats, suddenly letting go of the other. Zhongli’s eyes shoot open as he falls down again. Fuck, the way his chest heaves as his face is flushed with blatant desire threatens Childe’s composure. No, no, that won’t do, Zhongli doesn’t get to command him like this.

He curls his lips as his boot moves forward, gently rubbing at Zhongli’s erection. The sob that erupts is thrilling, and Childe’s lust-addled ego rears its ugly head when he notices the other gasping incoherent praises between breaths. “Please, please, please, do not tease me like this on your final night Childe, please. Forgive me, but I want your cock, I need it.”

Childe’s characteristic laugh bubbles forth as he clutches the other’s throat to silence him. “My, you’re agreeable like this. Did anybody ever tell you that you get to be so chatty when you want to be fucked? Pathetic,” he whispers, but a cruel pleasure unfurls as he watches Zhongli come undone with each degrading word. “You really like that, huh? Who else has talked down to the great Rex Lapis like this, hm? Answer me.”

“O-only you,” Zhongli gasps. “Only you.”

“Good.” Childe’s smile grows affectionate and he releases his grip before kissing the other again. It would be chaste if not for the insistent pawing at Zhongli’s clothes. “Strip for me.”

The god obeys, immediately tugging his own clothes off. Still, even in the throes of pleasure does he perform every action so meticulously, so carefully; he folds his clothes and places them on a nearby chair, and Childe’s heart flutters with fondness. Of course this stupid man would be so fussy during sex, of course. But that thought only sparks another – oh, by the Archons, he’s going to ruin this man and mark him for weeks after. Let’s see Zhongli deal with that problem.

Who even cares that the god can probably heal his wounds in minutes? If anything, that drives the warrior further in his madness to make the other bleed.

Zhongli stands before him, bare and glorious, his throbbing cock pink and leaking driblets of shimmering precum. He’ll never stop being hypnotizing with how the Geo energy refuses to be contained, permanently staining Zhongli’s arms with bronze and gold. All that power lurking beneath the surface…

Childe smirks and tugs off his gloves, tossing them to the side before he taps his thighs. “C’mere.” Zhongli submits – a little too eagerly, Childe thinks, where’s the fun in that – and straddles him again. When Childe’s right hand takes the other’s cock while he leans forward to begin teasing his nipples, Zhongli’s curls in on Childe and settles his head on the other’s shoulder, shivering with pleasure.

Childe nearly laughs when he realizes the image is not unlike a dragon coiling around its prey. Oh, but this one bites; the Harbinger’s teeth sink into Zhongli, drawing blood again. The wanton moan in response just sounds so delicious, and Childe matches his noises as he begins pumping in earnest. Zhongli’s begins grinding his ass into Childe’s bulge, and hey, that’s cheating. Childe is the one who’s doing the torturing here, damn it.

“Oh fuck,” Childe heaves, “I can’t take this anymore, fuck, where’s your oil Zhongli?”

Or not.

Yeah, okay, the man would be hot with embarrassment at how quickly he broke, but the way Zhongli croons and obeys just for him leaves him as desperate. When he rises to look for the oil, Childe stands quickly and begins stripping with the speed of a virgin teen about to get laid for the first time. A string of Snezhnayan curses is grumbled when his pants get caught on his ankles, but he when glances up at Zhongli’s chuckling with a fist curled in front of his grin, Childe only flushes further.

“Shut up,” he mumbles but grins along. Now free from his clothes, he grabs Zhongli’s wrist and tugs him back into the bed, kissing him all the while. The action is… Kind. Sweet, if Childe was being honest with himself.

But he hasn’t been truthful before, why start now?

When he leans back against the headboard and spreads his legs, Zhongli takes the cue to once again perch in his lap holding the bottle of oil in his hand. “Look at you,” Childe murmurs, pitch lowered but still rough around the edges, betraying a deeper hunger. “You look so good for me, presenting yourself like this.”

“What happened to the fearsome Harbinger just now?” Zhongli questions, mischief dancing on his face.

“Mm, good cop bad cop. Obviously being rough with the God of War wasn’t doing much ‘cept making me realize how badly I want to be inside you,” he states matter-of-factly before tugging Zhongli down for another kiss. When he takes the bottle and gently pries it open, he pours some on his fingers before placing the rest on the nightstand. Amber eyes watch Childe biting his lips, boyish eagerness shining forth.

Ah. Still so young, Zhongli thinks, and so cute.

That thought is interrupted when Childe leans forward and begins kissing along his abdomen, but characteristic of the Harbinger’s bloodlust, also peppers his skin with bruises and bite marks sharp enough to pierce the pleasurable haze in Zhongli’s mind. Cool fingers begin to gently prod between his cheeks, a silent question for permission which is quickly granted when his hands reach back to pull them apart for easier access. He feels Childe’s pleased groan beneath him as a single finger massages the muscle open before sliding in, and oh fuck, he missed this.

“H-haah, h-how are you always so tight?” Childe asks, taking his unoccupied hand to once again stroke Zhongli. He’s not entirely cruel, he’ll ease the other’s tension where he can. Whether or not it’s also out of selfish desire to see Zhongli unfurl around him, shoving his ass further on his fingers and into his palm is glaringly obvious when Childe bucks his erection up to graze briefly and intermittently between his toned cheeks.

“Are you complaining?” Zhongli moans.

“You kidding me?” Childe laughs and eases a second finger in, then a third. Now then, where is it…?

Zhongli suddenly cries out, vulgar sounds tapering off into quiet whimpers. There it is.

He begins massaging the spot and watches how Zhongli rolls his hips, the slight trail of drool and messy hair downright pornographic and mesmerizing. When his ass brushes against Childe’s cock again, he moves forward to nip at the god’s hip. “Z-zhongli, be careful there or I’m not gonna last.”

“I would ra-aahh-ther you finish in me, Childe,” the other rumbles, “before you ruin my bedsheets again.”

“Gods damn it, that was one time, you will not let that shit go,” Childe complains, completely uncouth and disrespectful, before withdrawing his fingers. “You’re lucky you’re good at sex.”

When his grabs the bottle again to pour it on his own straining member, the cool sensation welcome against his throbbing heat, he hears Zhongli chuckle above him. “Is that all I am to you? A nighttime tryst?”

“Don’t say that like you don’t enjoy it,” he mumbles, grabbing himself to line it up with Zhongli’s entrance. When the other slowly lower his hips, they both groan as the head begins to breach. It’s not fair, it’s not fair at all that Childe can’t stay mad at Zhongli like this. Not when the other swallows his dick like an animal in heat.

He moans openly when Zhongli finally meets him at his base, and he gives an experimental hip-roll to the god’s delight. Zhongli’s breath shudders before he starts a steady pace, switching between rolling his hips and lifting them to slam back down. Childe chokes on his breath and digs his head into the pillows beneath him at the sensation of being used like a fuck-toy for the ancient god. When blue eyes watch the Archon, muscles flexing in a downright filthy display of power, he’s awestruck. Zhongli is almost, almost treating his cock as another thing to conquer with the way he’s being manhandled like all attempts at domination earlier were just jokes.

He’s not giving up that easily. Childe’s fingers dig into the other’s hips to urge him to stop, bruising grip going nearly unnoticed. “Z-zhongli,” his strangled voice calls, “Flip over.”

When he slides his hands higher on the god’s hips and begins lifting his own body, Zhongli follows his lead. Before long, he’s flipped on his back with Childe looming over him, immediately catching his lips in another kiss as the Harbinger slowly pulls back before putting all his honed power in the movement back in. Zhongli breaks the kiss to groan and bares his throat in a show of submission, allowing the mortal to mark the god with fervor. Childe laps up the salt pooling along his skin with due diligence, nipping haphazardly along the way.

His thrusts begin to angle, looking for that tender spot once again. It’s no surprise how the ruthless Harbinger finds it with lethal precision and begins slamming into him earnestly. Fuck, his hips stutter and grow frantic when he’s rewarded with Zhongli’s increasingly loud cries, how does someone so composed sound downright filthy like that? Zhongli has no right, no right at all. When he feels nails drag down his back to draw forth sticky warmth, he retaliates by leaning forward and fiercely biting. His moans mingle with Zhongli’s as blood pours into his mouth, lust tearing through him, urging him to lacerate and mutilate this god further. Is it possible for a god’s body to be such an aphrodisiac?

Electric pleasure begins creeping forward; he’s losing his mind, Zhongli is coaxing out atrocious amounts of gratification and raw, unapologetic gluttony. More, he wants more.

Childe’s nose is flooded with warm mountain air, the musk inhuman but comforting, nonetheless. It’s enough to ease the abyssal beast inside of him but leaves the man in him wanting as he looks for any skin left unmarked to ruin. Much to his satisfaction, there is little left.

He releases his jaws when he feels a slight tugging on his hair, so he pulls back and – oh no. Oh, no no, that something grows in his heart again when he sees amber eyes gazing at him lovingly. “Childe,” Zhongli murmurs softly, “Let me see you, let me see your eyes.”

His responding laugh sound fake, even to him, as the sudden anxiety pushes aside the passion. If Zhongli notices how his thrusts begin speeding up, chasing that elusive and traitorous pleasure to mask it, he doesn’t comment. Instead, callous hands cup Childe’s cheeks and urge him to look deeply. “Please, a-allow – haah - me to commit you to… to memory.”

“W-what the fuck are you talking about?” he stutters, swallowing thickly around a sudden lump. Stop it. Stop being so sensual, stop it, stop being so sentimental you naïve and old creature, stop it –

Zhongli only smiles, lips wrapping around the soft sounds and purrs coming from deep within his chest. Luminous eyes are watching him, studying him, and he grows hateful at how Zhongli seems to just know. “I y-yearn to remember, please, allow me this. You are beautiful like this.”

“Shut up,” Childe suddenly snarls, leaning forward to hide his face in Zhongli’s shoulder. The other’s noises intensify in response, seemingly in an attempt to soothe him, and he hates it. “S-shut the fuck up, don’t make this something it isn’t, d-don’t do this to me Zhongli. Stop be-iiihng, ah, so cruel, you liar, we agr-eed to stop fucking lying to each other.”

Zhongli turns his head to kiss along Childe’s jaw, each one leaving behind hidden messages of longing and affection. “We did.”

Damn him, Ajax thinks as he desperately turns his head to meet Zhongli’s to kiss again, and again, and again.

It’s no surprise that soon, his hips’ rhythm falters before he slams one more time into Zhongli, that familiar heat in his core spilling deep in the other. Zhongli moans and flutters his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling pooling in his gut.

Ajax is not cruel. He rolls his hips and reaches one hand down to grab Zhongli’s still-aching cock, drawing forth more pleasure from the former Archon with an unforgiving speed. Soon, his breath is drawn, and he shudders as his cum shoots across his belly and into the Harbinger’s hand. Ajax is not cruel.

Damn him, he thinks again as he kisses Zhongli, but there’s no more malice, no more pretenses or attempts to hide his endearment for the older man. When he pulls back, Zhongli’s eyes glow softly in time with the markings along his arms. It’s indescribable, Childe thinks, how the light dances across the obsidian bedsheets and shimmers back, reflecting the riches of Teyvat in his blood. Before he can stop it, a single word tumbles out: “Beautiful.”

Zhongli smiles and pulls him down for another kiss.

And another, again and again and again.

 ---

 (Don’t let them see you bleed, don’t let them see you bleed, don’t let - )

 ---

 The two men hold each other, and though neither say a word, the silence before them is comfortable. How many rounds did they go for? Childe is twirling Zhongli’s hair around his fingers while the latter’s eyes are closed, but his breathing is too shallow to be asleep. Exhaustion clearly is not an issue for immortals.

Hm. His dark hair is silky and fine, maybe he can…? Childe glances at the not-sleeping man in front of him and a mischievous smile twists his lips, all attempts to suppress it gone. Not like he’s going to get another shot at this anytime soon. Deftly, his fingers begin to braid Zhongli’s hair in patterns he remembers the women in Snezhnaya wearing.

Only, when he looks at Zhongli again, golden eyes stare back, torn between being unimpressed and blatantly amused. Childe laughs and grabs the other’s chin to give a quick peck. “Aw, don’t look at me like that comrade, I just think you would enjoy this more than bed head.” It’s an excuse because Zhongli always looks perfect, but let him just have this.

“Mm.” A deep exhale breezes across Childe’s chest, and lust sparks in his gut once again at the cool sensation tickling his open wounds from when Zhongli took his turn hammering into Childe, spearing him open unforgivingly. Some minutes pass, and – yeah, no, braiding isn’t his thing Childe decides. The braid is unorganized, hair falls out, and he’s pretty sure he accidentally tangled it somewhere. Zhongli chuckles and buries his head further against Childe’s neck. “You would make a fine weaver.”

“Asshole.”

They both smile, but when Zhongli looks to the other again, he knows there’s a question forming. He just knows it, but seeing those swollen and kissable lips bruised and knowing that he did that? Childe’s dick twitches traitorously, ready to go again.

“Childe, are you listening?” Zhongli frowns and Childe blinks, attempting to be coquettish. The other’s frown deepens.

“Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “What was that?”

“I asked if you believe in the red thread?”

Childe’s hands stop, and not for the first time, he wonders why the hell Liyue is so obsessed with the concept of destiny. He scoffs, mouth twisting and nose curling up. “Nah, I don’t. It’s a cute gesture ‘n all, but if you look closely, there’s a reason for everything, and it isn’t because Celestia or whatever decided it.”

“Do you say this because you did not have control over what happened to Liyue?”

At Zhongli’s inquisitive look, he holds up the mess of a braid he was trying to rectify. “You see this? This is the red thread. It’s messy. It’s artificial. There’s no such thing as destiny, Zhongli, everything happens deliberately, by us,” he huffs, irritated by the question. Childe was just trying to have a relaxing time, why did he have to bring that up now? The former Archon’s radiant eyes glow brighter, an impassive wall for the other to beat against. Somehow, though, that placid expression irks Tartaglia further and the words fall out before he can stop them.

“You think it’s destiny that I was maneuvered like that? That I began serving Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa? That I fe-“ Tartaglia, thankfully, has enough wherewithal to pause that statement before too much is revealed and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to center himself. “No, Zhongli, I do everything for a reason. Everything. My path is my own, all the titles and reputations and connections I possess were bargained for fairly. I dragged myself out of that cold and dark land by my own will.”

Zhongli knows he isn’t speaking of Snezhnaya, but says nothing regardless.

“I thought you of all people would understand that,” he spits, sudden cynicism surging through him like a tidal wave. “How many people have you controlled over the years? Pawns moved, strategic opportunities seized? You should know that nothing happens by coincidence, someone as old as you.”

A roaring tempest, changing and harsh and untamable, crashes against the rocky mountain that stands tall and firm at the center of the chaos.

Zhongli’s lips curve as he admits, “I do. Perhaps you and I have a different understanding of the concept of coincidence, then, though I do not disagree with what you say.”

“Did you not say that actions and emotions must be separate?” he replies, wry smirk back in place. He doesn’t miss the flicker of sentiment, and if he didn’t know the stone-cold god any better, he would be tempted to label it as almost melancholic. What was Zhongli thinking?

Childe sighs, all fight in him about this topic abruptly gone. Truly unpredictable. “Two sides of the same coin, huh?” he murmurs. “Let’s just… Not talk about that. Not on my last night.” He instead descends to capture the other’s lips in a vicious kiss, clearly an attempt to redirect his frustrations elsewhere.

Zhongli returns it with equal fervor and two pairs of hands grapple each other in possessive movements. They’ve long ago decided to be truthful with each other, and this is the most open they can be, unspoken words and feelings conveyed through touch.

When they break apart, Tartaglia’s ocean eyes hide how far below the boy in him is confined to the murky depths. As he nips at Zhongli’s throat, the god can’t help but wonder of their varying approaches to this concept of control. Tartaglia moves with aggression, uses his body as a weapon to get what he needs, to distance his emotions and thoughts further from the surface; Zhongli attempts to convey his desires and willingness to plunge into those watery depths, to drag him back through his own.

Zhongli won’t deny that their arrangement started as him humoring Childe’s lust, of allowing the other to believe in the lie that he had the upper hand all along, but the god has since grown genuinely fond of the tempestuous being.

However, Tartaglia only sees their passions as another battle to be won and the old God of War indulges him. If Tartaglia chooses to classify their relationship and letters as platonic, then so be it.

But… Is the Harbinger truly so far gone that he does not understand Zhongli’s blatant desire for him? How quickly did the young man latch onto this desperate understanding that their passionate actions are separate from the relationship they have built? What war is he fighting?

What happened to him to make him believe he could only rely on himself?

Zhongli hums. No matter.

The dragon already decided long ago that Childe is a treasure worth coveting, and hopes that one day, he will understand that Zhongli’s desires are not superficial. He has all the time in the world to find a love language that Childe will understand.

In due time, he intends to help raise the man above the Archons who dared to use him, dared to take away control over his hard-won destiny, dared to treat his mortal kin as worthless compared to the boy they raised.

In due time.

 ---

 Ajax did not want to think about his carefully guarded feelings nor talk about it that night, lest Morax see him for how selfish and hungry his heart is. It is no secret how he lusts after power, and that night in the Golden House sparked a ravenous flame. Even if he could only convince one of the immortals to join him, it would be enough to challenge the rest of the Harbingers and begin his own conquest.

However, during his stay in Liyue, he could only ease his treacherous heart with one who surely saw mortal hearts as tradeable as gold. His own aches in resignation.

Is it because he is afraid of his own weakness? Or because he knows that when destiny pushes him back into that abyss a second time, it will be final and alone?

Don’t let them see you bleed.

Ajax trusts Morax with his life (strangely enough), but not with his soul. Not now. He wonders if you would be gentler. Kinder.

But a bird cannot survive a hurricane.

 ---

 (The stars whisper fearful warnings that night - incessant in their dulcet tunes – hoping to shepherd these souls once more.

Nobody hears them. They have been absent from their duty too long. Nobody remembers.)

 ---

 On the boat back to Snezhnaya, the Harbinger is leaning over the railing, twisting the ring around his finger in thought. A small smile graces his lips as he thinks of the last conversation he shared with you, of the promises of a rematch.

Cute. That’s all he thinks – fluffy, unreasonably angry, cute, so insistent on chirping and proving yourself a fierce opponent. No, you are formidable as he remembers his ass being beaten to the ground without mercy. A thrill shoots up his spine at the memory and his tender smile turns wicked. Formidable and sexy he declares with Her Imperial Majesty as his witness.

Maybe Zhongli was right, there must be something fucked up in his head for him to still think you’re cute as he nurses his wounds from the Golden House and the Teucer fiasco.

Chlide beams, completely enamored with the open ocean and its bare surface; the bright and open sun shimmers across the waves as tempting as jewels for the taking. One day, he wants to take his siblings out to the coasts beyond Snezhnaya’s eternally frozen waters where icebergs leave few paths for the boats to navigate. Though he’ll never admit it to the other Fatui, he always preferred the freedom to go wherever and do whatever he pleased.

Well, let’s be more honest here, it’s more or less already an open secret. After all, that’s why he’s the Vanguard of the Harbingers. Tartaglia is sent to be the first storm that wreaks havoc and flood enemy defenses while the others clean it up and claim credit.

Childe sneers because fuck Signora, that glory was supposed to be his.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, but pauses midway before lowering it and clenching the railing harder. Memories flood his vision as he remembers watching how you would rub your head whenever you were nervous, would brush Paimon’s hair and coo at its ephemeral patterns, would help Aether re-braid his after a particularly messy fight. During his stay at Liyue, he somehow picked up the tick himself after spending so much time watching you to try and find your own quirks in character. Chlide never intended to punch a hole in his own carefully guarded defenses.

So… Why did you reveal yourself like that? Childe mulls his options over. Either you weren’t aware of your actions - which is not possible, not with the way you move during battle – or you let him see to throw him off your trail, letting him think he figured you out. Hm. But that’s something Zhongli would do. Did.

Asshole, he thinks fondly.

Maybe you just… Maybe you’re just that open? Let your guard down around him because of – because of –

He closes his eyes, stifling that inkling of something again from creeping its way into his traitorous heart. Childe snorts, sardonic nature taking over because yeah right, like you would really let him in so easily. But then he sees it, sees how the blue glimmers with the light like stars.

If you trusted him because of a starconch, then you really were as stupid as he was afraid of.

And, well, maybe he is too.

How many stories did you exchange over warms meals and long nights? In all those little tales he shared, he showed a bit more of himself. After all, the best lies have truth in them; Zhongli knew this and reciprocated the efforts. In a way, that’s why he trusts Zhongli more – the former Archon already manipulated him and proved his suspicions right. Now that the betrayal has been seared into his memoirs, he understands all the more the man’s motivations, making him an easy target for Childe to predict next they meet.

His heart remembers the unexpected connection he made with Aether – the sacrifices for one’s family rings universal. It’s only when Teucer found his way into Liyue – the little devil – that he realized that somehow, along the way, it was Ajax that was laughing, Ajax that was helping Aether find Lumine, Ajax paying for Paimon’s egregious eating habits.

Childe’s thoughts loop endlessly as he tries convincing himself his mind is only consumed by you three (or one) because he can’t figure you out. You’re an eternal mystery and challenge, how could he resist?

He’s stirred when he hears the Fatui recruits call for him below deck and Childe’s easy nature slides back in. He promised them a proper Sneznhayan drinking game; it’s time to show these fresh-faced bumpkins what being a Harbinger is all about.

 ---

 (Ajax did not see how Morax gazes at him, ferocious and protective. Only one mortal’s heart will remain immeasurable and incomparable to Teyvat’s riches, the scales will never be balanced.

Nor did Ajax witness the stars streak across the sky for him, incandescent and besotted, a promise of other immortals who would faithfully carry him to the heavens if he but asked.

A mountain of bodies filles his vision as he seeks to build a paradise above the carnage for his family’s dreams to be safe, so that they may never know what nightmare lies beneath the world.

He made a promise, after all.)

 ---

  My dear Childe,

I suppose I am able to write the first of our agreed upon letters, as I am the one left behind with the luxury of free time while you journey to your own homeland.

Please note that, attached to the letter, are packages of various Liyue sweets that I am sure youth enjoy. Hu Tao has at least assured me of its quality. If your kin are anything like you, these will serve in sufficiently whetting their voracious appetites.

Also included are some artifacts that, I pray, will find a new home in Snezhnaya. Hopefully your siblings are as curious as you. Certainly, you can tickle Teucer’s desires for grand anecdotes with the enclosed miniature terracotta warrior. They once stood as guardians to tombs of emperors long past. Perhaps he can become a paragon of honor once more as sentinel to Mr. Cyclops.

Just be sure to not allow the statue to break. I must warn you that it contains a very real spirit. Children enjoy this sort of thing, yes?

I am glad we can remain in contact. I cannot begin to repay your kindness and generosity in this lifetime for treating me as a mortal; I never sought the continuation of Rex Lapis’ legacy in my assessments of Liyue. Instead, I find that having good company to walk with is enough.

I pray that your duty does not come into conflict with the Travelers. They have asked me to inform you that they will not attempt to establish contact, for they fear their own journeys will eventually threaten Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. They do not wish to endanger you or your family.

No one is at fault for attempting to complete their mission, but let it not distract you from why – and for  who - you fight. As you described to me, baseless glory for the sake of it is no way to conduct oneself as a true warrior.

Do not be afraid to be the first to step on the path into unknown territory. Believe me, time waits for no one.

Your dutiful friend,

Zhongli

 ---

  My dearest and most lively funeral consultant,

Don’t worry about my wellbeing; as I have said on our last night together, my destiny is my own. Her Majesty the Tsaritsa will have her seven stars, as I’ve promised, but they are not my stars nor my true goals. I believe you are right – I will have to venture into that dark night if I am to find what I truly seek.

I am pleased to report that Teucer is now sleeping with your protective clay warrior after naming him, aptly, ‘Mr. Dirty’ for the incessant mess that the dusty old thing seems to leave. My mother has certainly thrown a fit more than once for the dirt it leaves in his bed. Whether you have blessed this little thing with one of your tricks to always produce earth is a cheeky mystery I am sure you will never answer.

Zhongli, my friend, we must really educate you on what is and is not appropriate to gift a young child. I did not explain to him – nor my family, for that matter – why I insisted on wrapping Mr. Dirty in a very cushioned blanket.

Furthermore, Hu Tao was right, the candies were a roaring success. Quite literally, I might add, as my siblings tore at them with the ferocity of Snezhnayan wolves and howling battle cries.

I wonder who would win in a fight for the last sticky honey roast: my siblings or Paimon.

I understand fully their reasons and don’t fault them for it. If anything, they conduct themselves with greater care than I ever did in Liyue. Regardless, I will miss them dearly and hope that when we meet again in Snezhnaya, it is not for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, but for myself. I did promise my honor as Harbinger to be the prize won.

With the letter is a package of a hand-crafted Matryoshka doll. I had asked for the crafter to paint each layer as different armor from Liyue’s history. However, at the center, you will find a doll with intimately familiar amber eyes.

This is, I hope, a suitable gift. To me, you will always be Zhongli first and foremost at your core.

You still owe me a fight for the right to reassert your divine status to me and rectify the slight against my character. Otherwise, you will find my insolence to become tenfold. I just hope you defend your honor before your short guard dog, Xiao, does it for you.

Your loyal companion,

Childe

   ---

 Ajax walks along the beaches outside of his village. He’s been home for a few weeks on leave, much to the delight of his family; he welcomes their affection and returns in kind, even if when he embraces his father, he feels emptier after he pulls away. It’s funny. Growing up, Ajax adored his father’s stories of adventures. They seemed so thrilling and freeing, especially to travel the world outside of Morepesok.

Only, whenever he comes home, a bit more of his father’s image is broken away like ice. That’s all they were: stories. The Harbinger has massacred battlefields, left just enough in his wake that would churn most men’s stomachs as a brutal reminder for defying the Fatui. No, those stories are nothing to him now.

He keeps walking, stopping only to kick away some snow from his path. Ajax missed this; he’ll admit it. Too many times has he spent an extended period on Dragonspine to let the cold freeze him just to the brink of death, reminding him of Snezhnaya. Such a ruthless landscape to birth a ruthless warrior. As much as he adores travelling, home is where he’ll always return to, where he misses most when he reads each letter gracing his desk.

Ajax spots a shining object and immediately bends to reach it, but pulls away with only a blue stone and faint silver markings.

Not a starconch. Huh. His instincts must be slow for him to make such a rookie mistake.

As he tosses the rock over his shoulder, Ajax’s lips pull into a frown. Home is where the heart is.

So why does he feel empty?

 ---

 Ajax looks out the window of his home as Tonia, Anthon and Teucer snore peacefully in his lap. They’re in front of the roaring fireplace and a thick blanket is wrapped around them all.

He very pointedly ignores the sharp Mr. Dirty digging into his side, and just… Why, Zhongli, why are you so stupid sometimes. Ah well, it made Teucer happy, so Ajax relents in his complaints for the time being.

Outside his window, he watches a family of snowy owls as they emerge from their nest. Some time passes before the youngest brave the howling winds, opening their wings to test the currents.

In a heart-stopping moment, all the children leap and exit his field of vision before quickly rising again, thriving in the winds of change. He watches as they flap their wings experimentally, fluttering around the tree before the family gathers itself. They eventually leave, heading to horizons unknown to explore as they flee the coming darkness of winter for their own safety. Despite this, the owls will return home when the chaos settles, they always do.

A stray thought springs into Ajax’s head as he looks down at his siblings.

   ---

 When Tartaglia saunters up the alabaster steps to Zaplorny Palace, he remembers how awe-struck he was as a child listening to his father’s speak about the Tsaritsa residing within. Frost paints ethereal patterns into the decorations, constantly changing as it’s melted and regrown. The shimmering patterns no doubt rival the beauty of the skies, but also mirror them in the way that the stars are so far and cold themselves. No matter how many flames are lit, Zapolyarny Palace will always remain cold.

He wonders if the Tsasritsa’s frozen heart still has a flicker of warmth.

Before he turns down the next hallway, he is met with the sight of three other Harbingers. Oh boy, what a fucking party. “Ah! Forgive me comrade!” Childe chuckles as he shoves past Scaramouche’s shoulders to join them. “I didn’t see you down there,” he sneers, relishing in the murderous glance tossed his way.

“Childe. For how long you spent in Liyue, one would expect you to have learned some respect by now. I suppose it’s too much to ask for from someone of your limited faculties,” Scaramouche responds, tone light and casual but eyes burning regardless.

“Was your leave rejuvenating?” Pulcinella interjects, hoping to steer the conversation away from a brawl starting in the palace. Not that they have any doubts over Scaramouche’s self-discipline, but Childe’s was another matter entirely. “Signora here has informed me of your recent success in heralding the Gnosis from Morax. Congratulations.”

Childe raises one eyebrow, eyes dull and heavily guarded. He’s familiar with these political tactics and with how the Harbingers lace their words with patronizing intent. It’s all some bid to try to put others down, remind them of their place. What a bunch of idiots, don’t they know he only cares about what the Tsaritsa thinks?

As if reading his mind, Signora’s lips quirk upwards as she slithers in to join Pulcinella’s compliments. “Indeed. I have informed Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of your valiant efforts. This couldn’t have been done without you.”

Without your brash and impulsive tendencies.

“You know…” Scaramouche starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head back in a show of friendly submission. What the fuck is he up to now? “Some time ago, when I was in Mondstadt investigating the Jester’s little mission for me, I saw the Travelers again. They certainly grew more adept in commanding the elements, wouldn’t you say, Childe?”

The ginger-haired man’s airy laugh rings off the walls around them, the easy-going nature of Childe stepping forth before Tartaglia has a chance to strangle him. “Oh yes, I would certainly agree. Makes it all the more exciting to see what they’ll be up to next. Let me guess, you had a hard time dealing with them? I too heard the reports, dear Balladeer, of how they kept dancing just outside of your short reach.”

Pulcinella bites the inside of their cheek to keep the amusement from showing. Somehow, their favored recruit always finds a way to piss off the other Harbingers like it’s all some game. Really gives a good show too.

Scaramouche scoffs, allowing the jab to slide this time. “I let the fools go. My research was complete, I didn’t linger. But I did notice something… Interesting.” He raises his left hand casually, motioning his fingers in a light pinching motion as if he held something small and precious. “A single starconch hung from one of the Traveler’s journals. A rather curious sight.”

Childe’s smile grows wider, more placid. The lack of an aggressive reaction is, in itself, a threat. “Curious indeed.”

“Scaramouche, wouldn’t you say that was a stroke of genius on Childe’s part? He’s keeping them close and relaxed. I’m rather proud of you for employing our more covert tactics for once. That is, after all, your intent, is it not?” Signora smirks when she sees how Childe’s eyes flick to hers. Still no change in his expression, but he laughs and holds up both hands in a placating gesture. As much as she plays at knowing his tactics, it’s not very hard to guess where his chaotic actions will lead him. However, the motivations behind his more subtle behaviors remain elusive wherein only two can guess it correctly at any given moment: Pulcinella and Her Majesty the Tsaritsa herself.

“You got me. They’re just so eager to help others, how could I resist that temptation of fucking with them?” Childe’s whimsical tone never wavers, not once. Pulcinella frowns. This is a dangerous game; they always caution against becoming attached to the unhinged Harbinger, but if the Travelers became strung along too much, then…

“Careful, Tartaglia,” Pulcinella murmurs, drawing all eyes on them. “Since your little betrayal of their trust, the Liyue agents report that our Fatui strongholds in the wild have steadily lost their footing. For every inch we gain, we lose two more.”

Childe pretends to look shocked, but he has his own ears inside the palace, he’s been aware of it the whole time. Little birds, he thinks affectionately, I’m nearly proud.

“Hmph, of course the idiots keep losing ground, they have no Harbinger guiding them,” Scaramouche says, frown deepening. “Even with Signora in Mondstadt, the diplomats were frankly imbeciles.” She tsks in irritation, but nothing more.

“Aw, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you were complimenting me, comrade!” Childe says cheerfully. The Inazuma native’s face flashes with fury before quickly recovering.

“All I’m saying is that maybe we need someone to keep an eye on them,” he replies. “Since Mondstadt… They’re not what you think, Childe. The stars are a lie; none of it is real. I’ll bet you the Travelers know more about it than they’re letting on. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

Childe cocks an eyebrow, smirk barely melting into a snarl. “And what would you know? You stay behind the scenes while the rest of us do real work.”

Scaramouche’s slow smile is poisonous and laced with contempt as he hisses, “You should know there is a Liyue saying that goes ‘Heaven and Earth are impartial, treating all creatures like straw dogs.’ When the sacrifices have fulfilled their purpose, they are discarded because there is no more use and care for such worthless objects. Didn’t dear Morax tell you of this philosophy himself, Childe?”

Tartaglia tastes blood as he bites his tongue to keep from summoning a blade then and there.

Pulcinella not-so-subtly coughs. “I believe our meeting is starting soon. Let us take this discussion there, for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa is currently informed of all developments. We will receive our next assignments there.”

As all four Harbingers walk in silence down the halls, Childe lingers in the back so that the other three don’t catch sight of his eyes darkening. He was right, damn it, the Travelers are hiding something.

However, a sadistic smile curls on his face. Though he’s sure that the others allowed Scaramouche to hint at what is surely classified information that currently only he, the Jester, and the Tsaritsa know the full scope of just to allow the shorter Harbinger to insult Childe, he enjoys the fact that the others once again underestimate him. They were likely not informed of Scaramouche’s findings either and this provided an apt opportunity for them to update their intel if their unashamedly curious expressions were anything to go by. Scaramouche’s lightning temper strikes again and illuminates the path forward, even if Childe had to bleed first to see it.

Oh what fun, fun, fun!

 ---

 The Tsaritsa’s cold gaze peers down at Tartaglia as he kneels before her, not even daring to gaze at her feet. With the other Harbingers long-departed after the meeting, the only two remaining souls in her throne room are himself and the Cryo Archon; for anyone else, this would strike fear in their heart, but Tartaglia only croons at the thought. Finally, finally, she trusts him with a classified mission, one that she fears the other Harbingers might impede on should they discover the true intention.

He buries Scaramouche’s words deep below the surface, unwilling to allow his goddess to witness his burning desire to prove himself. For now, Childe will serve dutifully until the opportunity for him to topple the Archons’ thrones presents itself.

Littered around them are the eternally frozen bodies of all who made the mistake of striking too soon, their faces warped in perpetual agony as sick trophies. Are they still alive beneath that ice, like the creatures trapped atop Dragonspine?

“Tartaglia,” she starts, regal voice cutting clear through the air, “the Travelers defy the laws of this world and harness its ancient secrets with ease, something the other Harbingers have failed to provide me concrete information on. However, I understand that you have observed these phenomena yourself. Am I correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” comes the smooth reply, steady and betraying no weakness.

“Good,” he hears the pleased smile in her voice. “I have a new task for you.”

 ---

  Dreams do not normally come, smothered by the abyss. But something is different this time. Ajax hears it.

A voice calls to him in a language that sounds of silvery bells. Another speaks in a tongue long forgotten by mortals.

-

notes:

childe’s pov has a lot of swearing (and will in future chapter) bc lets be honest, he probably would if mihoyo would let him

1) Childe flips masks depending on who he's with according to mihoyo's official forum thread on him. Pulcinella is quoted as stating that Childe is completely trustworthy for any job, but cautions against getting too attached/close (for unknown reasons)

2) One of Childe's voice lines expresses admiration for the Tsaritsa's warrior methods, but in another line, has massive disdain for the underhanded tactics of others. He also blatantly admits to being willing to take on the other Harbingers and overthrow the world with the Traveler if the opportunity presents itself, and doesn't care at all for their opinions on him

3) The terracotta soldier is referencing the Terracotta Army guarding the tomb of Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China and Matryoshka dolls have multiple dolls inside one.

4) The Liyue philosophy quoted is a sentiment expressed in Chapter 5 of the Tao Te Ching that basically translates as Heaven treating all the people equally, neither with love nor hate aka nobody is special. It is what it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5) Childe 100% spent so much time on Dragonspine with the video from yesterday (April 4th) from mihoyo featuring him walking around missing Snezhnaya

6) The multiple frozen statues are a ref to the White Witch from the Narnia series where she froze all her enemies and kept them in a room to look at. Yeesh.

7) and FINALLY (TL;DR at the bottom of this bullet point) (I wrote this chapter before “We Will Be Reunited” quest)

Scaramouche's line of "the stars are a lie" are a direct quote from the Unreconciled Stars event. A lot of veterans of mihoyo games think this references the theory that Teyvat is actually a bubble world either as a part of the Seeds of Sumeru (name also one of the regions in Teyvat) universe from Honkai Impact 3, a sci-fi game, or is just another world in the Imaginary Tree of mihoyo's overarching lore (aka multiverse). The symbol for the abyss and celestia being a tree support this too, plus the mythos of Gnosticism says that a rival divine made a false world to mirror the "true" divine (abyss/celestia?) with Archons ruling over 7 planets.

This is further confirmed in a dev video where one of the characters from HI3 is seen watching Dvalin on a computer screen, stating that Genshin exists parallel to HI3 and has the same rules where if mankind progresses too fast or too far, these beings called Honkai come and wipe them out to restart. Since I PERSONALLY would feel extremely discouraged if Genshin turns into something too sci-fi (takes away from the fantasy appeal imo), I'm taking this to mean that the MC travels multiple worlds exploring while the unknown god is stopping mankind from being too arrogant. The Archons know things about Celestia most don't (maybe why the Tsaritsa wants to rebel), and the MC's twin joined the abyss separately after seeing the cataclysm 500 years ago to probably help the abyss.

The abyss order are all but explicitly confirmed to be the fallen Khaenri'ah turned monsters and the advanced technology we see everywhere with the power to end civilization also belonged to them, if Kaeya's voice lines and item descriptions anything to go by. They used the abyss as a power source "away from the eyes of the gods" that is parallel to Celestia's power. Celestia is preventing any more disruptions to the great cycle by controlling mortals (one piece of lore on the wiki's timeline page directly describes how they used to walk among the earliest human ancestors in Tevyat long before even the gods we know today were born, but mortals are not meant to know that Teyvat's history is cyclical, starting and ending multiple times). I don't think the MC is aware of the fake stars because they're canonically just as confused as Paimon when Scaramouche says that the sky is a hoax. I'm taking my own twist on this for the fanfic with stars being "sentient" or artificially placed (maybe by Celestia?) since the meteorites that fell were someone's old constellation. There are separate stars that follow and affect the Travelers/worlds.

TL;DR: The stars in Teyvat are artificial but the MC canonically didn't know this, the unknown god is trying to prevent uprisings, mortals want to control the heavens instead, the abyss and celestia mirror Gnostic mythos about two divines and 7 Archons, and for the purposes of this fanfic the stars are both separate from and connected to the Travelers.

[joannalannister]

Anonymous asked:

Hey there, Lauren! I love your blog and metas! I have a question for you, in terms of the book, could you tell me when and where Daenerys shows signs of being a tyrant or a fascist? I see lots of metas say that she is, but from what I've read, I don't see any signs of that? Sure, she kills her enemies, but what powerful monarch doesn't? I just feel like the fandom has a very biased and double standard hatred when it comes to her, and I would like your opinion! Thank you!

Before I answer your question, we need some sort of working definition of fascism. To achieve this, I would like to quote a disabled person who helped lead the fight against fascism for years, and who died in the line of duty:

Over a year and a half ago I said this [...]: "The militarists in Berlin, and Rome and Tokyo started this war, but the massed angered forces of common humanity will finish it."

Today that prophecy is in the process of being fulfilled. The massed, angered forces of common humanity are on the march. They are going forward [...] 

We will have no truck with Fascism in any way, in any shape or manner. We will permit no vestige of Fascism to remain. [...]

In every country conquered by the Nazis and the Fascists, or the Japanese militarists, the people have been reduced to the status of slaves or chattels.

It is our determination to restore these conquered peoples to the dignity of human beings, masters of their own fate, entitled to freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom from want, and freedom from fear.

We have started to make good on that promise. I am sorry if I step on the toes of those Americans who, playing party politics at home, call that kind of foreign policy “crazy altruism” and “starry-eyed dreaming.”

--President Franklin D. Roosevelt, July 28th, 1943 Fireside Chat

What did the fascist Nazi Party stand for in WWII?

Historically, there was no Nazi Party apart from their racial and social agenda. It was a party founded on racial distinctions, with a vision to dramatically transform their society. The Nazis disliked and persecuted anyone who they did not consider Aryan. They persecuted and killed Jewish people, homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and communists, and they wanted to eliminate people with mental or physical ailments. The Nazis pushed women out of the workplace and actively promoted patriarchy. [x]

But where does GRRM come into this?

I wasn’t a complete pacifist; I couldn’t claim to be that. I was what they called an objector to a particular war. I would have been glad to fight in World War II. But Vietnam was the only war on the menu. [x]

GRRM’s ethical views are at their clearest and most concise while discussing slavery and dehumanization in his (most excellent and highly recommended) vampire novel, Fevre Dream:

I never held much with slavery […]. You can’t just go… usin’ another kind of people, like they wasn’t people at all. Know what I mean? Got to end, sooner or later. Better if it ends peaceful, but it’s got to end even if it has to be with fire and blood, you see? Maybe that’s what them abolitionists been sayin’ all along. You try to be reasonable, that’s only right, but if it don’t work, you got to be ready. Some things is just wrong. They got to be ended.

Some things are worth fighting for. Fascism requires opposition, some form of opposition, or it will steamroller all over you. 

My regret now is not that I stayed my arm, but that I remained aloof in my window while others protested peacefully outside. It would be naïve to think that those marching in neo-Nazi parades could have a change of heart from such efforts, but I am more concerned with those who are not marching for anything. We must convince the apathetic to care, and stop those who are walking down the path of hatred before it becomes too late.

--David Olin, The View from My Window, Berkeley 2018, written for the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity 

Now, let me apply this to ASOIAF piece by piece. 

In every country conquered [...] the people have been reduced to the status of slaves or chattels.

This is Tywin. This is Tywin enslaving people as part of his militaristic campaign of aggressive force in the Riverlands. This is Tywin sanctioning the capture and torture of innocent people. This is Tywin “using” other kinds of people and disregarding the fact that they are human beings. This is Tywin enslaving Arya Stark. This is Tywin impressing people to work in his gold mines on a whim, as we learn in AGOT. This is Tywin reducing people to the status of slaves or chattels. This is Tywin. 

I don’t know how many different ways I can say it, but as I’ve said before and will say again: Tywin is the character in the ASOIAF books who most prominently espouses fascist ideology. 

There are other characters in the main series -- Roose Bolton and Randyll Tarly, for example -- who also exhibit characteristics of fascist ideology, but I would argue that it is Tywin who is the fascist poster boy of ASOIAF ... and it is also Tywin who is one of the main villains who is drawing humanity’s attention south away from the true threat of the Others, who wish to turn every living thing into their slaves and playthings. (Littlefinger also comes to mind.) Tywin is an unwitting general in the Others’ army. Tywin is fighting the Others’ Campaign of Dehumanization on their behalf. 

The Nazis disliked and persecuted anyone who they did not consider Aryan. 

Substitute “Aryan” for “Lannister” and this is Tywin. “a Lannister, and worth more.” It is Tywin who pushes an agenda of Lannister superiority and it is Tywin to whom non-Lannisters aren’t human, to the point that he had to marry his own cousin. He dislikes non-Lannisters so much he had to marry his own cousin!!!! It’s Tywin who passed down his obsession with blood purity to his children to the point that they literally have to fuck each other. It’s Tywin who puts his House (a proxy for his race) above the individuals in it; it’s Tywin who doesn’t care if Cersei and Jaime and Tyrion are ground to dust under his disgusting ideology as long as House Lannister reigns supreme. 

"Spice soldiers and cheese lords," his lord father called them, with contempt. 

This is Tywin. 

Non-Lannisters aren’t fully human to Tywin. This is fascist ideology!!!!

It was a party founded on racial distinctions

This is Tywin and Kevan, refusing to allow the Westerlings to marry into their family because of “doubtful blood”!!!!! (”Ser Kevan seldom had a thought that Lord Tywin had not had first.”) 

It was a party founded on racial distinctions

This is Tywin and his refusal to allow a betrothal between Jaime and Elia. 

they wanted to eliminate people with mental or physical ailments. 

This is Tywin and his hatred toward disabled Tyrion. This is Tywin and his refusal to allow a betrothal between Jaime and disabled Elia. 

The Nazis pushed women out of the workplace and actively promoted patriarchy.

This is Tywin. This is Randyll hating on Brienne of Tarth. (And you can bet your ass Tywin doesn’t approve of women with swords.) 

I don’t know how many ways I can say it: Tywin and others like him are the fascists. 

Tywin is one of the cold fucks the AGOT prologue warns us about in the very beginning: “the real enemy is the cold.” 

The central conflict of ASOIAF is between the living (the fire) and the dead (the cold), those who would recognize your humanity and those who won’t. 

It is our determination to restore these conquered peoples to the dignity of human beings, masters of their own fate

^^ This is Daenerys Targaryen ^^

Daenerys Targaryen is a freedom fighter who kills slavers in the books. 

Her breakup of the economic system of Essos (meaning SLAVERY) is more akin to a communist revolution than a fascist takeover imo. Daenerys associates herself with people of all races, all classes. She gives Missandei, who canonically has dark skin in the books, a place as one of her closest advisors. Unlike Tywin, Daenerys is not pushing an agenda of Targaryen superiority. 

Daenerys is not perfect. She does not always get it right. Daenerys has got some things wrong. But I don’t think there has been any other option for Daenerys. You ... you can’t just look the other way when evil men are crucifying children, and I truly do not think that non-violent opposition would change anything in Essos. “Better if it ends peaceful, but it’s got to end even if it has to be with fire and blood, you see?” 

Sometimes innocents like Hazzea have died on Daenerys’s journey. 

And I fully believe that more people are going to die in TWOW, and that Daenerys will hold herself responsible, whether she is or not. I know that TWOW will give all the antis of every character a lot of ammunition. TWOW is going to be a dark and depressing book. 

I think that Daenerys is going to reach a very low point in TWOW, just as Tyrion is nose-diving in ADWD, but I think that’s just what GRRM does with his greatest heroes. It’s the moment in a movie when the hero falls off the cliff, and the Evil Villain starts cackling maniacally and you think all is lost, and then you see the hero’s hand reach up over the edge and the music crescendos as the hero pulls himself up. Except the real villains that GRRMs heroes are battling are themselves. The cliff is a metaphor for our darkest impulses. 

Characters tell Dany in AGOT that “she is nothing” but Dany’s story is about proving them wrong. It’s about her finding her own dignity and worth as a human being out on the Dothraki Sea, and becoming the master of her own fate. As her story progresses, she helps others to do the same, helping people to rediscover their dignity, to regain their names (or take new ones), to find the humanity that was stolen from them. 

(This is why it’s so important to me that her story intersect with zombie!Jon, so that she can help a dead man remember what it is to be human and remember why it all matters. Because if none of it matters ... if a man can’t find a fuck to give, well, that’s Tywin Lannister, who was a cold dead man long before Tyrion shot him.) 

I brought up FDR in the beginning of this post. Although FDR died before GRRM was born, he was one of the great American cultural figures of the 20th century and I have no doubt FDR’s legacy was a formative influence on GRRM. And that’s the thing - so many of these, these great American cultural figures of GRRM’s life died before their work was completed: FDR, JFK, MLK, so many others... The promised land is somewhere ahead of us, despite the opposition making accusations of “crazy altruism” and “starry-eyed dreaming.” No one is going to drive us there and drop us off; we have to get there by ourselves, and the journey isn’t an easy one. It’s a place we have to keep striving for, working for. A dream of spring...

It’s not Daenerys’s destiny, I think, to rule humanity in the long term; Dany’s destiny is, I think, to make sure that humanity doesn’t, well, lose their humanity. To make sure that humanity doesn’t fall into eldritch slavery.

The Others would make us automatons in their icy, inhuman regime. The Others would steam-roller all over humanity, and take away humanity’s freedom to choose, as Tywin Lannister tries to do to his children, trying to take all of their choices away and control them completely. The Others would take away our self-determination, our freedom to choose good or evil, our freedom to be the rulers of our own fate. 

I don’t think it’s Daenerys job to be a ruler in the end. I think she’s fighting evil now so that other people can keep fighting that good-and-evil “human heart in conflict with itself” fight long after she’s gone ... I’ve never believed in a “Targaryen restoration” ending although I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it. 

Like Moses, Daenerys won’t lead us into the promised land ... we have to get there ourselves. 

And I’ve strayed from your question into a topic that’s more interesting to me because I cannot fucking belieeeeeeve that you are even asking me if the compassionate, caring, teenage-girl, sexual-abuse-survivor, messiah-figure Daenerys Targaryen is a fucking fascist when everything Daenerys “the fire is mine” Targaryen does is in narrative opposition to Certified Fucking Fascist Tywin Racist Lannister oh my god I cannot believe this is where we’ve come to as a fandom, I cannot fucking belieeeeeeve. 

Anon. Honey. Baby. I say this gently, with love: Whyyyyyyyyy are you reading “Daenerys is a fascist” metas? That didn’t even work on the show. 

When I googled “Daenerys Targaryen fascist” to try and figure out what you could possibly be reading to argue against it, the top result is an alt-right thinkpiece website about how dangerous Dany was all along in freeing slaves!!!! And the next results are people who think the iron throne actually matters when GRRM himself has said that the political war is a red herring. 

The endgame rulers don’t even particularly matter because what matters in the end is that humanity wins against the Others and we still have control over ourselves, what matters is for that human heart conflict to continue to exist inside ourselves and that we rule over that conflict inside ourselves. 

"We all must choose," she proclaimed.

Practice some self-care; go read Armageddon Rag, and remember this: TWOW is not going to save us. 

[ladycatofwinterfell]

😬 a mix of 36 41 50 preferably behind brandons back

36. “We can never be together” kiss

And

41. Forbidden kiss

And

50. In secret kiss

Okay so before we start, no less than three separate people asked me for 36. Are you guys okay, do you need a hug? But you asked for angst and your wish is my law, so here we go.

Catelyn had thought that she would be happy with Brandon. He had been so charming and promised her that she would have everything she desired. Her life would be a sweet one, a happy one. He had given up on that promise quite quickly. Just a few moons after she had arrived at Winterfell with their son, actually. In the beginning it had been well, he had been the Brandon she had known during their betrothal. With his easy smile and loud laugh. But as time passed it had changed. And definitely not for the better.

As it was after five years he barely paid her any mind outside of her bedchamber and when it was strictly necessary. Because he still came to her chamber to claim what was is regularly. Yes, that he did often and happily. That he enjoyed. In the beginning he had pleasured her as well and she had been more than thrilled over that because she was aware of that most men did not care for a woman’s pleasure. He had stopped with that too, he only came to spend his seed in her and then leave again. And she was glad for that, the thought of him touching her was no longer an exciting thought and more of a thought she looked at with disgust. She had no wish to get touched by a man who did not care for her.

But at least he had given her her children. Robb and Sansa, the lights of her miserable existance. They were beautiful and brilliant. They made the grey and cold life worth living. And Ned. Her Ned. She would not have met Ned if it had not been for Brandon. Ned, the mand she thought of when Brandon pushed into her. Ned, her best friend as well as her lover. Ned, the man who cared for her and touched her in all the right places. Ned, the man she loved. Without Ned she probably would have been unhappy, but as it was, she was quite satisfied. She could endure Brandon as long as she had Ned

She remembered exactly when it had started. It had been before Sansa, and sometimes she looked at her daughter and wondered which brother she belonged to. She hoped that it was Ned. Sansa would be better off with Ned as her father, that was a thing to be sure of. In the beginning they had been friends. He had talked to her when Brandon ignored her and made her laugh with his wry humour.

She remembered the first time he had kissed her, when Brandon had been away, visiting the Rills. She remembered the first time they had made love, the day after the first kiss. She remembered all the times thay had talked about how they could not continue only to keep going because not being with each other was no possibility. She remembered every little moment, every secret smile, every muffled moan and every “I love you” whispered in the dark of night when the rest of the castle was asleep. Everything that had passed right under Brandon’s nose.

All those things she thought of when Brandon told her that he had intentions of betrothing Ned to Barbrey Ryswell.

“What?” she said.

It felt like a knife in her heart. No. Brandon had taken everything else from her. He could not take Ned from her. The only comfort she had beside her children.

“Yes, it is past time he weds and leaves Winterfell” Brandon muttered.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have anything to say to him. She wanted to curse him. Wanted to strike him and scream at him. But he was the Lord of Winterfell, he was Ned’s brother and he could do whatever he wished. She had never gone so far as to hate her lord husband, it had only been contempt. But in that moment she hated him. The hatred burned in her and suddenly she could not stand to look at Brandon. He had promised her every sweet thing life had to offer and then he had taken it all from her, one thing after another. And she had let him. For it was his right. But it was cruel all the same.

“Would you please leave me?” she said as she pulled her nightshift over her head.

“You have no right to demand things of me.”

“I am not demanding, I am asking. Of course you may stay, if that is your wish, my lord.”

She would rather throw herself from the highest tower than sleep in the same bed as him, but that she could not tell him. So instead she forced herself to look at him, her husband. She smoothed out her expression, pushed away the anger and the sadness.

“It is not.”

He sometimes looked at her like she was some foul creature that had crawled up from the ground. She had no worth at all in his eyes. She was just there to mother children for him. Catelyn no longer took any notice to those looks. She knew her worth, and she knew that the only looks that mattered were those that Ned gave her. He looked at her like she was the most divine creature on earth. And she loved him.

She could feel the tears burning in her eyes the moment he had closed the door. Her light and love, the one thing that had made Brandon’s behavior bearable. The one person she could truly talk to, the one person who truly knew and loved her. And the only person she wanted to see in that moment.

She left the bed and pulled a rober over her nightshift. She padded quietly through the dark corridors towards Ned’s chambers. They were closer to her own than Brandon’s was, and she could easily get there undiscovered. She didn’t bother knocking anymore, just opened the door and slipped inside.

Ned was still awake, as he always was. And he smiled softly and rose from his chair when he looked up and saw her. That smile, that unknowing smile, was the only thing it took to break her.

He immediately walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms, holding her close to him. Her rock. Her safe rock.

“Cat?” he whispered into her hair. “What happened?”

She heard the worry in his voice, but she sobbed so hard that she could not get out any words. Brandon would have been angry with her for being so difficult, but Ned understood. He whispered comforting words and held her until she was calm enough to talk again. And she loved him for it.

“Brandon intends to wed you to Barbrey Ryswell and send you away from Winterfell” she mumbled.

“He has not spoken to me about something like that” Ned immediately said. “I’m sure it is nothing to worry about, Cat.”

She looked up at him, and he looked back at her with his soft grey eyes. Always so calm and collected.

“No, Ned. He told me. Just now.”

Ned seemed to consider for a moment.

“I supposed it was inevitable. I had to marry eventually and if I did not pick a wife he would do it for me.”

“How can you be so calm?” Catelyn forced out.

She had felt like her world had fallen apart, and he only looked like it was a mild inconvenience. And for a second her heart fell in her chest. Did he not love her? Had she only imagined it to stand out with her miserable marriage?

“I am not” Ned replied, pulling her close again. “I am furious. I would do anything to make Brandon change his mind. But I can’t. And it pains me more than I can say.”

She did hear in his voice that he meant it. He was opposite to Brandon in that way. When Brandon felt something he expressed it very loudly, Ned’s emotions were more quiet. And still she felt them so much more. And cared for them so much more.

“Do you love me?” she asked.

“More than anything.”

When she turned her face up towards him once more he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, desperately deepened the kiss as much as she could. Maybe, just maybe, he would not leave if she just held him close enough to her. Maybe everything would be well if she kissed him like the world was about to end. It felt fitting. For in a way her world would fall apart when she saw the man she loved married off to another woman.

[heavenward-blog]

How to become a Christian?

If we are to be saved and have a place in God’s kingdom, we must accept God’s way of salvation.

Steps to Become a Christian

Remember, all the help we shall ever get will be from above, not from this earth. Salvation is from God. Do you want to be a Christian? Would you like to be a Christian, but do not know how to begin?

The steps to Christ are few and plain and easy to understand, and we shall just turn to God’s Guidebook now for our information. What must one who would come to God do first of all? The answer is found in Hebrews 11:6: “Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.”

Believe

1) We must believe God exists and that He rewards those who seek Him. That’s the first step. But you say: “I don’t have faith. How can I get this faith in God?” Well, here’s the way as described by the apostle Paul in Romans 10:17: “Faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.” The word of God, then, as found in the Bible brings faith when we study it and receive it into our hearts. So begin at once to follow the Bible path.

Repent

2) Now we come to the second step, which leads us to a change of life. It is here in Romans 2:4: “Do you show contempt for the riches of His kindness, tolerance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness leads you towards repentance?”

So the second step is repentance. First, belief in God; second, repentance. But you ask, “Are you sure God will forgive me?” The answer to that question is found in 1 John 1:9: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” We read the same thing in Exodus 34:6,7: “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.”

So you see, our heavenly Father treats us better than we deserve.

So you see, our heavenly Father treats us better than we deserve. Yes, He desires to forgive us. “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” — John 3:16

That’s what God’s love and goodness led Him to do for us. So. first of all, we must believe in God. Then we must realize that we are sinners and repent. “Repent, then and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out.” — Acts 3:19

Now, no one is going to repent if he isn’t sorry for his sins. We read in 2 Corinthians 7:9: “Now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance.” Repentance is simply being sorry for our sins and putting them away. It is not a sorrow for fear of punishment, but a hatred of the sin itself because we know it grieves the heart of God, whether or not we suffer for the sin here on earth. Is it natural for us, of our own selves, to repent? No. In Acts 5:31 we read: “God exalted Him to His own right hand as Prince and Savior that He might give repentance and forgiveness of sins to Israel.”

You know, friends, conviction is not repentance. It is one thing to be awakened at five o’clock in the morning, but it is another thing to get up. It has been said, “Repentance is being so sorry for sin that you quit sinning.”

Across the great Zambezi River in Africa, just below the Victoria Falls, there is a great bridge spanning the chasm over the most terrible turmoil of waters on earth. It was built by engineers working from both sides of the river. They extended on through the single span until the two arms met above midstream, thus completing the bridge.

Repentance and faith are the arms of the bridge that enables us to pass from earth to heaven.

Repentance and faith are the arms of the bridge that enables us to pass from earth to heaven. They unite to make our salvation possible. Neither of itself is sufficient. We must believe in God and we must repent. It is useless, friends, to try to be Christians if we do not repent of our sins. We cannot change ourselves from sinners to believers in any other way. We read in Jeremiah 13:23: “Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil.” Repentance is absolutely necessary. One reason why we have such unhappy lives is that we do not repent. Many who carry on a form of Christianity have never truly repented, and therefore have never been happy in their Christian experience. One reason why some religious workers never have a revival is that they have not repented of their sins—they are still unconverted. Friend, have you repented? Will you repent?

Revival

Dr. F. B. Meyer tells of a revival meeting that was dragging along with no signs of success. Finally one of the leading elders arose and said, “Pastor, l don’t think we’ll have a revival here as long as Brother Jones and I won’t speak to each other.” Then he went over to Jones and said: Brother Jones, You and I haven’t spoken to each other for five years. It’s time to bury the hatchet. Here’s my hand.” Just then a sob broke the silence. Another elder arose in the audience and said, “Pastor, I don’t think there will be revival here until I repent. We can’t have revival as long as I say mean things behind your back and nice things to your face. I want you to forgive me.” Soon others arose and confessed their sins and tried to set matters right. It wasn’t long before the revival broke out. Then the blessing of God came upon them and swept over the community for three years.

Confess

3) The next step in becoming a Christian is confession. “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” (James 5:16) “He that conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.” (Proverbs 28:13) Confession that leads to the forsaking of sin is the real kind. But, in addition to this, what else is necessary on the part of the repentant sinner? “If the wicked gives back what he took in pledge for a loan, returns what he has stolen, follows the decrees that give life, and does no evil, he will surely live; he will not die,” — Ezekiel 33:15.

Real repentance and confession mean not only to stop sinning, but to do everything possible to make right past wrongs.

Real repentance and confession mean not only to stop sinning, but to do everything possible to make right past wrongs. No man can steal ten dollars and expect God to forgive him unless he tries to pay back what he has taken. Otherwise it wouldn’t be real repentance or real confession.

But when a person truly repents and confesses, God forgives, for we have already read in 1 John 1:9. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” Forgiveness is God’s work, not ours. When we confess, we simply believe that God forgives, and He does. That's the end of it. We may or may not feel that our sins are gone, but they are. We are not to depend upon feeling, we are to believe God.

The son of a minister strayed from the straight and narrow way into a life of debauchery and sin. He made a name and great fame for himself in the world of affairs, but allowed himself to slip down to the lowest places. He described his own condition as that of a drunkard, a dope fiend, and a down-and-outer. But, after fifteen long years, he gave God a chance to redeem him and he was gloriously saved. Then he returned home, but only to find that his poor father had died of a broken heart, calling his name, that through all those years his mother had kept a lighted lamp in the window every night and all night.

Friends, God has a light in His window for all His wayward children; and, while the lamp holds out to burn, the wandering sinner may return. Won’t you come back now, for God will forgive you? So we have these three important steps: To believe in God, to repent, and to confess our sins.

Baptism

4) Now the next step is baptism, and the proof for this found in Acts 2:38, 39: “Repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call.”

The change which comes through faith, repentance, confession of sin, and following the Word of God in all obedience, is called the new birth. Jesus said: “You must be born again,” John 3:7. This is spoken of also as regeneration. It’s new life, a re-creation by the power of the Holy Spirit in the heart of the one who believes. This is not something that we can work up, not a form of psychology. It’s not a by-product of education or culture, but it’s a miracle wrought by the power of the Holy Spirit of God. Then Christ lives His life within us, a life of perfect obedience.

Can we obey in our own strength? No, for in John 15:5 we read, “Apart from Me, you can do nothing.” But how much can we do with Christ’s help? The answer comes to us from Philippians 4:13:“I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” But if we do sin after we have made a start for Christ, should we become discouraged and cease to follow Him? Never! We read 1 John 2:1: “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But If anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.”

What if I Keep Falling as a Christian

A saint, or follower of Jesus, is not necessarily one who never sins, but one who, as soon as he does sin, asks forgiveness of God, believes himself forgiven and goes on rejoicing to grow in grace and in the knowledge of the Lord. He may stumble and fall, but he gets up and presses forward again. Such a fall is not counted against him when he repents and asks forgiveness and divine help to live the right life. But he is to grow stronger and stronger. Is it possible to be kept from falling? Jude 24 answers that question: “To Him who is able to keep you from falling, and to present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy!”

The Final Word: On Becoming a Christian

So we have clearly outlined the steps that we need to take in order to become a Christian: (1) To believe in God, (2) to repent, (3) to confess our sins, (4) to be baptized and obey the Lord.

(c) Bibleinfo.com