#who died before he could actually participate in the war

[modernsuperhero]

You ever suddenly remember an OC you made years ago. I just remembered an OC from the 8th grade I named Pecan

[after-witch]

The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret. 

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful. 

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s  immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled. 

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves. 

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war. 

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol. 

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games. 

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win. 

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could. 

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes. 

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs. 

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you. 

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it? 

Her smile grew wider. 

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze. 

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue. 

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.” 

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else. 

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone 

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples. 

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you. 

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead,  you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned. 

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

--

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think  you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors. 

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash. 

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats. 

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom. 

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about 

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked. 

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it. 

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.  

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?” 

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm. 

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father. 

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

--

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets. 

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there,  unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated. 

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it. 

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl. 

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little.  You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not. 

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

--

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up. 

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans. 

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door. 

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.” 

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.” 

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home. 

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University. 

--

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment.  You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber. 

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy. 

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject. 

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?” 

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t. 

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.” 

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested. 

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

--

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone. 

There was an Avox in the room. 

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married. 

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic. 

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now. 

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered. 

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did. 

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home. 

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home. 

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

--

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1. 

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls?  I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No.  You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world. 

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.” 

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

--

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you.  You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father. 

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in? 

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette. 

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real? 

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick. 

“Good.” 

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year. 

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow. 

Of course you would. 

Your life depended on it. 

[agentem]

future of the wanda-verse in the mcu

so next up is the vision show tentatively titled "vision quest." recently there were rumors of an actor being considered for a role. the article said it was tommy maximoff, but now I think that was a lie.

because now it's being reported that jac schaeffer is developing a series about the search for tommy tentatively titles "wiccan" (which seems exlusionary to both agatha and speed, not gonna lie) and that they are hoping to get it to be on TV before secret wars which is kind of a crunch.

whereas "vision quest" is scheduled to go into production at the beginning of 2025 and is scheduled for 2026. its showrunner is terry matalas (known for "star trek: picard"). so i am guessing "vision" or "vision quest" or whatever they call it will lean more sci-fi and less fantasy.

my guess is that the actor they said was being considered for tommy is actually being considered for Vin Vision (Vision's other son) and that the show might be loosely adapting Tom King's run on Vision with Ultron thrown in there? (if it's sitcomy: he should be the cranky grandpa like archie bunker; if it's serious: maybe the ultron programming is trying to take over and vision really needs to remember he's on the side of life)

that's interesting to me because some of that run was part of WandaVision. Sparky the dog who dies was from there, for example. So I hope it doesn't feel like a retread of wandavision. though the concept of an emotionless vision trying to regain (for lack of a better word) his humanity and emotions through a fake family--because he was probably the best version of himself when he was in the hex--makes a level of sense.

or maybe wanda and vision are a perfect match because they both love creating fake families to solve their emotional problems.

somehow this will dovetail into the "wiccan" show. If they are able to get it completed before Secret Wars then I certainly hope Vision and his sons (and maybe his daughter too?) are a united front going into what I can only assume will be a subplot adaptation of Children's Crusde, where Billy and Tommy discover that Doctor Doom is engaged to an amnesiac Wanda who wants to use her power.

i will miss the fact that magneto and quicksilver participate in children's crusade in the comics. idk, I like grandpa magneto. but vision being included is a bonus.

and agatha.

i mean victor von doom is a genius, a prolific sorceror, head of state and sometimes a god emperor, but I bet mcu ghost agatha could bully him until he cries. i have a lot of faith in her ability to find a weakness and exploit it.

this won't happen, but imagine if the big final battle is just agatha goading doom into attacking her, and her stealing his power to becoome alive again ? to me, that is the dream.

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 7 a rebelcaptain regency au

“To first understand Cassian’s life,” Lady Mothma began...

______

Jyn hears of Cassian's history with the Krennics from Lady Mothma. Bearing this newfound knowledge, she finds herself facing a difficult decision.

Read Chapter 7 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

“To first understand Cassian’s life,” Lady Mothma began, “you must first know about his and Kerri’s parents, Cassandra and Kiernan. Cassandra, who was then Cassandra Dashwood, was the fourth child of a well-off family who lived in Liverpool. One day, in an attempt to momentarily escape her parents’ incessant and too enthusiastic attempts at marrying her off, she took to the ports to wander about and keep her mind off things. 

“There, she met Kiernan, who was a clerk and assistant for one of the merchants who had a small office there. His line of work, in particular, was translating on behalf of his patron’s clients who could only speak Spanish; he was incredibly fluent at it.

“He and Cassandra got off quite well, and soon, they fell in love with each other. Cassandra would sneak away from her home everyday to meet him, and eventually Kiernan found the courage to offer his hand in marriage. Cassandra willingly accepted it.

“It came as no surprise to the both of them, however, that when Cassandra told her parents of the engagement, they did not approve—The Dashwoods did not want Kiernan as a husband for their daughter. But this did not faze Cassandra, and was still determined in keeping her engagement with Kiernan.

"To this her parents retaliated still with an obstinacy, and one even greater. They gave her an ultimatum: if she married the man, they would cut off all material support for her for good, and never speak to her again.”

“But still, she chose him," Jyn guessed.

“She did, yes,” confirmed Lady Mothma. “But despite the threat of financial loss, you see, in actuality, the union did not mean any ruin for her. For while Kiernan was not wealthy, he was also not entirely poor. After they got wed, they moved and found a small cottage in a town called Fest farther up north, almost to the border of Scotland.

"They managed on their own, Cassandra and Kiernan, which, just a year later, led to the birth of their first child, Cassian. Five years later followed Kerri.

“But while it overjoyed the Andors to have a second child, this also posed a problem for them now. With two very young children to take care of, keeping the household afloat was now becoming more of a struggle to accomplish. Kiernan’s clerical work, while previously enough, no longer produced the amount of money needed to sustain his growing family.

"With the war against France escalating and the Crown needing more men to fight at sea than ever before, he found himself with no other choice but to enlist in the Navy as a seaman. They deployed him on a ship called HMS Celeste. 

“Fighting at sea was not without its constant danger, but for a while he was finally able to earn enough to send home to his family in Fest. This went on for seven years. By the end of that period, though, things began to change.

"In the wake of the kingdom’s still increasing tensions with France, the conditions suffered by sailors all across the Royal Navy turned even more abysmal than they had already been before. This was when mutinies amongst sailors became more prolific. You’ve heard of the Nore mutiny, haven’t you? That was just one of the many others that occurred at the time. 

“The crew of HMS Celeste eventually partook in one themselves, with the willing participation of Kiernan himself. At that point, their crew were dropping like flies at such a rapid rate; within the last five months alone, seven of them had died—not from fighting the French, no, but from famine, infections, or madness.

"So they decided that they had had enough of it.

“Their determination was strong, but the force with which the Crown responded was too brutal, even for seasoned sailors. Kiernan fought valiantly, but he was killed, the entire crew along with him.

“The conflict irredeemably wrecked HMS Celeste. This infuriated its owner, who had invested a great deal in the vessel.” She then narrowed her eyes at Jyn. “I think you can guess who he is, Jyn. There are only a few names known for investing in the trade during the Napoleonic wars, and you are very close to one of them.”

It instantly dawned on Jyn. Her heart sank. Quietly she said, “The Krennics.” 

Lady Mothma nodded.

Jyn fell into total silence for a few seconds, reveling in the realization. “Sir Orson Krennic owned HMS Celeste.”

“He did, yes. Now widowed, Cassandra, upon discovering this, appealed to the Admiralty for reparation for what her late-husband had suffered. She also demanded due compensation for his service, which, after all, he had rendered for the kingdom for seven years.

"But Sir Krennic, who had taken it upon himself to get involved in the affairs of the ship’s mutineers, convinced its captain (who had fought against his own crew) that no such recovery of damages should be given to her.

“Cassandra did not back down, however. Still she stuck to her demands, but Sir Krennic was equally unflinching; to settle the matter for good, he made a case for Kiernan’s descent, which was when things began to go really south for her.”

“Why, Your Grace?" asked Jyn. "What did Sir Krennic do?”

“He had found out that apparently," answered the duchess, "that Kiernan was not from England; his investigations tied him back to New Spain, where his entire family resided. And it wasn’t just any family, either; his father, it turned out, was a governor who held office in the capital.”

Jyn’s brows furrowed. “And was it true?”

Lady Mothma nodded. “It was. Sir Krennic found this sufficient reason enough to suspect that the mutiny in which he had a large part in leading was motivated by his covert allegiances to Spain—a kingdom which, by then, was still a staunch ally of France. This would make Kiernan Andor, in effect, a much worse traitor to the Crown, and therefore must be treated as one. He had made such a compelling case to the Admiralty that it was too easy for him from that point.”

“But that’s not really the case, was it not?" argued Jyn. "He was not really a spy for Spain?"

“Sir Krennic had presumed the worst intentions behind his actions, on the mere basis of that information about him."

"So if his claim was a falsehood, then what is the truth, Your Grace? Also, come to think of it, if he was the son of a governor, why was he all the way over in Liverpool doing small clerical work?” 

Lady Mothma gave her a small smile. “I believe that is a story for Cassian and Kerri to tell.” 

Jyn suddenly felt flustered. "Oh. Of course."

"Anyway," continued Lady Mothma, "because of it, in the end, Cassandra received nothing. She now had neither husband nor money.

“Kiernan’s death devastated her, that’s without a doubt, but the dread of raising Cassian and Kerri now all by herself took heavier weight upon her. How could she even take care of two children alone without a reliable income?

“It was also not easy for the children themselves, but the loss seem to have affected Kerri much more gravely. She was only seven at the time, and losing a father was a severe tragedy to her heart. To see such a young child grieve to such a sorrowful extent—it was a tough sight for a mother to bear. So Cassandra made her son promise not to tell her about what Sir Krennic had done in response to his death—she did not know how much more her daughter could take. Cassian gave her his word.”

Jyn briefly remembered the imposingly cheerful disposition of the younger Andor sibling, now in awe of the disjoint between the joy she so consistently exuded, and the grief she had experienced. 

“For the next four years,” continued the duchess, “Cassandra tried to make ends meet as a governess, but overworking herself had made her weak. Eventually her body succumbed to a terrible case of tuberculosis in the lungs. She was too tired at that point, so much that Cassian already knew, young as he was, that there was no hope for her recovery. And he was right.

“Cassian and Kerri became orphans since then, and Cassian, in particular, was afraid—as any sixteen-year-old boy would be. He did not have any money to inherit, and he did not know how to take care of his younger sister by himself. There was no one he could reach out to—the Dashwoods remained steadfast in their prejudice against the Andors, and he did not take his chances with anybody from his father’s side. He tried to work, but since none of what he made was even close enough, he had fallen into a state of debt. 

“One day, while he was trying to evade somebody who he owed money to, he snuck into a gentleman’s club to hide. There, he ran into Mr. Draven.” Lady Mothma then paused to ask Jyn, “You remember Mr. Draven from this morning? He was the barrister who briefly stopped for a visit.”

Jyn nodded, and in an instant, already got an inkling of what was about to happen next. Lady Mothma, as she spoke the next parts of the story, confirmed it to be almost accurate:

“You see, Mr. Draven had known all along that Cassian, what with his appearance and dress during that moment, was not a gentleman who frequented that club—anybody would have known, really. But Cassian did not fold under it and impressively kept his air, despite looking like he did not belong there.

"Mr. Draven knew then, as he listened to Cassian’s attempts at conversation, that he wasn’t pretending, not entirely; there existed in the boy a well of knowledge that could only be acquired from studying materials typical for gentlemen. He also found that he possessed the high ability to converse, to reason, and to think with such logic and erudition. It amazed him quite profoundly.

“Later Mr. Draven finally called Cassian’s bluff, and propositioned for him to be his apprentice in law. And Cassian, not one to let such an opportunity pass, immediately accepted. Eventually he began his education at Gray’s Temple. There he studied law for five years, then worked for the next twelve.”

Jyn fell into a state of quietude, reflecting on these events that had fallen upon Cassian’s life. “And now he is a successful solicitor,” she said above a whisper. 

“And has accumulated enough money for his and his sister’s more than comfortable living,” supplied Lady Mothma further. “But, despite things already being better for him and Kerri, I believe he’s still keeping his promise to his mother; it seems to me that he continues to carry that knowledge alone, after hearing what you two had argued about.” 

Jyn had reason to believe the same. Nothing in the explanations that Kerri had provided in her letter signified that she knew at all about what Sir Krennic had done. And recalling the events of Mr. Rook’s ball now, Jyn surmised that she had not even known of the Krennics until they’d met that evening.

A sense of dread immediately fell upon her, sinking her spirit to the deepest of depths. She could hardly look at the duchess now; she buried her face in her hands. 

“Jyn?” asked Lady Mothma, concern clear in her voice. “What’s wrong?” 

The things Jyn had said to Cassian during their argument in Vallt Park all came crawling back to her mind. She felt her face redden in shame. 

“Jyn?”

Jyn sighed. “I said some terrible things to him, Your Grace. I had always perceived his anger towards it, but I never truly understood the extent of it, or the reason for it, until now.” 

Lady Mothma did not speak, only offered her a look of sympathy.

Jyn finally managed to meet the duchess’s eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, “I see now why he feels that way about the Krennics, and by extension, about me—I, who now intend to join the family. But I knew nothing of this, Your Grace. I had absolutely no idea.” 

Lady Mothma put a hand on Jyn’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t, Jyn.”

Jyn sighed again. “But now that I do,” she said, “I assume you are now to dissuade me from marrying Mr. Krennic.”

She held her breath, preparing herself for the duchess’s answer, and now trying to imagine her new future from this point hence. But what Lady Mothma said next surprised her:

“No, Jyn. I’m not going to do that.”

Jyn gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re not?” she asked. “But—but I thought that you disapproved of my match with him.”

Lady Mothma observed her carefully. Then she shook her head. “I think you have misconstrued me, Jyn. But I can see why you would think that way.”

Jyn just stared at her, anticipating an explanation.

“Look,” the duchess said, “I admit that I had harbored some doubt particularly in the beginning when I saw you and Philip, but I soon realized that that feeling had less to do with Mr. Krennic himself, and more to do with the surprise that I felt from your decision to marry at all—for I know very clearly how you feel about it.” 

When Jyn didn’t speak, she continued, “Jyn, I am not judging you for it. You must do what you must—I know what it feels like to be burdened with the necessity.” 

Jyn frowned. “But I still do not understand, Your Grace. Why won’t you talk me out of it now, after all this?”

Lady Mothma offered her a kind smile. “I cannot tell you what you should or should not do about Philip.” Then, when she sensed Jyn’s confusion, she said, “What I’m trying to say, Jyn, is that whether or not you still want to pursue a union with him is something you have to decide for yourself. I do not know him, not in the way you do. And yes, Sir Krennic had pulled a decisive influence surrounding the matter of Cassian’s father, but you must realize, those were his actions, not his son’s.”

Jyn stared, spending a few moments to take all the duchess’s words in. “Your Grace, are you saying that Philip is blameless in all this?”

Lady Mothma shrugged. “Perhaps he is, perhaps he is not. It’s possible he knows not of it even—he was only but ten when it happened. Here is what I know: people are complicated; they don’t always turn out to be their parents. Sometimes they do, yes, but a lot of the time, they also just don’t. We cannot quickly condemn Philip for something his father had done—the same way Cassian cannot condemn you for it.” 

When Jyn still didn’t speak, Lady Mothma finally posed, “So what do you think, Jyn? Do you think that you cannot trust Philip anymore because of what his father had done, or do you think that you still can, because you know for certain that he had no part to play in it, and that he cannot do such a thing himself? Only you can tell this.”

Jyn started to feel lightheaded. “My, Your Grace,” she breathed, “that is an impossibly difficult question.” As she even attempted to think about it, so many complications already tangled themselves up with each other in her head.

She felt as though suddenly all of life, which hung over her like a cloud, had begun to descend into heavy rain.

Lady Mothma gave her a sympathetic smile. “Most questions posed by life usually are, Jyn.” 

Just then, the curtains on the stage below began to part, and a painted and costumed ensemble began to move about to the rhythm of a melodramatic, orchestral overture. 

Just as the first singer sang her first note, Philip finally emerged from behind Jyn. She jumped in surprise. 

He leaned down within her earshot. “Forgive me for being a bit late, Miss Erso,” he said, before sitting down on the chair beside her. “It was the first time I saw my mates in months.”

Jyn did not speak, only stared at the gentleman, her breaths quick in her anxiety. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, smiling. He proceeded to lift a hand to feel his cheeks in jest. 

As she looked at him in silence, Jyn suppressed any reaction that would betray her current confusions. In his countenance she saw the face of Sir Krennic, and yet, all the same, she found it difficult to reconcile him as being the same person entirely. 

It was impossible to imagine that Philip would ever do the sort of thing that Sir Krennic had. 

She was utterly torn, so much that she could feel her mind practically splitting itself in half.

In the instant Philip sensed her mood, he quickly dropped his gaiety. With audible concern he asked, “Miss Erso, are you quite all right?”

The singer on stage began to sing a shrill note, the sound ululating in the air, against the walls, and straight into Jyn’s ears.

Still, she did not speak. 

Jyn had since then racked her brain, thinking of the right way to deal with her current predicament. Unfortunately for her, she had not been able to find the time to do it—for after the opera, Lady Mothma ushered them both immediately to Sir Organa’s dinner party, where Jyn’s attentions had all but been solicited by the host’s daughter, Miss Leia. 

On the one hand, Jyn was glad for the distraction, for discussions of various matters that interested her meant postponing what she wildly hoped not to discover about Philip’s complicity in the whole deluge (and she liked the lady’s company very much), yet on the other hand, she also felt as though she was only but sustaining the anxieties that did not seem to quiet down, even in passing time. 

By the end of the evening, Jyn was already too tired yet again, and Philip too it seemed, for he had already gone straight for his lodging. 

She only found the time for reflection, really, when the conclusion of their trip to Bath finally arrived. 

The goodbyes that Jyn and Lady Mothma had exchanged during the moment were bittersweet, and Jyn, overcome by a deep gratitude, had expressed her thanks for the guidance which the duchess had shared to her, and should now inform her next actions henceforth.

As the carriage rolled away, she suddenly felt alone, despite the companionship of the gentleman who sat across from her.

Philip looked at her with a curious expression. “Miss Erso,” he said cautiously, “I sense that something has been bothering you since the opera.” He leaned forward. “I wish you would tell me what it is.” 

There was no going around it anymore; it was time for Jyn to settle the matter. 

At first she hesitated, but soon managed to begin. “I suppose I’ve been thinking about a question, Mr. Krennic—a rather difficult one at that.”

“Yes?”

“I wonder if one’s sentiments and affections for a person can overpower their sensibility for what is good and what is not.” 

“What do you mean, Miss Erso?”

“Do you…do you ever think about what you would be willing or not willing to excuse, ignore, or look past for the people you really liked and respected?” 

Philip paused in thought. “That is a rather deep musing, I would say. I hope you are not torn about it, Miss Erso. It seems like a difficult question.” 

Jyn let out a quiet, dry laugh. “It is, isn’t it. Well, I’m afraid I must now rope you into thinking about it as well.”

Philip looked uncertain, but he tried for a smile. “Try me, then.” 

“All right.” Jyn cleared her throat. “What if, say, you discovered that—that your father had done something deplorable? What if—what if he had deprived a person of something they truly needed because he thinks they do not deserve it?”

Philip frowned. “Why would my father think they do not deserve it?”

“Because—” Jyn tried not to show her indignation upon the remembrance of the fact “—he just believes they do not.”

Philip hummed in thought. “But they do?”

Jyn nodded. “Yes, very much so. And in consequence, that deprivation ruins their life for the worst—forever.” 

“Upon my word, that is rather a conundrum.”

Jyn narrowed her sight. “Is it?”

Philip tilted his head. “You seem surprised, Miss Erso. Why would it not be one?” 

“You do not think that your immediate disapproval is due the act?”

When Philip saw the growing mortification on Jyn’s face, he quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, Miss Erso. That is not what I’m saying at all.” He took a quick pause. “What I only mean is that it is difficult. Say it’s your father—would you not feel the same way?”

Jyn beheld him in a way that made it seem as if the answer was obvious. “I understand the difficulty of it quite clearly. However, the presence or lack of that feeling should not signify what I should do about it. Honestly, Mr. Krennic, I think it should be quite simple. Why must we condone a truly terrible thing being done just because someone we loved did it? What does that say about us? Our principles and sensibilities? Ruining a life out of spite, Mr. Krennic—I do not think it should be that hard.”

Philip quietly sank into thought. 

“So to answer your question,” proceeded Jyn, “if my father had done it, he would not be exempt from the same disfavor I would give to somebody I neither knew nor have deep affections for.”

Philip looked ahead and out the window beside him, his mind running at full speed.

After a long pause he finally said, “You’re right, Miss Erso.”

Jyn watched him carefully. “I am?”

The gentleman nodded, surer this time. “You are. You definitely are. I would do what you would in an instant; if my father had done something of the sort, I would deplore him for it, too.”

Jyn fell silent, which encouraged Philip to say, “But the thing is, Miss Erso, I do not believe it would come to that point; the reason I’ve always respected and looked up to my father is because I know that he had not and will not do anything of the sort.”

Jyn grimaced. Quietly she said, “But what if I told you, Mr. Krennic, that he had?”

Philip’s expression fell. “What do you mean?”

Jyn stammered. She did not realize how difficult it would be to impart dreadful knowledge about one’s father to his son.

“Miss Erso,” urged Philip, “what did you mean?”

Jyn took in a deep breath, and with a heavy heart, began to tell the story of HMS Celeste and the Andors—leaving out, with due diligence, any detail surrounding the family’s life which was not necessary to Philip’s awareness. 

As she progressed through the tale, so did Philip’s look of terror and incredulity.

By the time she finished, silence fell upon them in the carriage. Philip did not utter a single word. 

After a while, Jyn could not bear the quiet any longer. “Mr. Krennic?”

Philip, whose gaze seemed distant, finally looked at Jyn. He shook his head. “Forgive me, Miss Erso. I am just...shocked. I did not know about this at all—this is news to me.”

“So you really did not know?” asked Jyn.

Philip shook his head with a forlorn, but earnest conviction. "I did not, Miss Erso." Then, with desperation he looked into her eyes. “My father really did that to the Andors?”

Jyn leaned forward. “You believe it, then?”

Philip hesitated for a moment, then answered, “I do not find any good reason to doubt your accounts, Miss Erso, nor Lady Mothma’s, for that matter.” 

Jyn dipped her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” Philip gave off a weak, wistful laugh. “It would seem that the fruits of our discussion will now be put to the test.” He looked at Jyn with a sad smile. “I understand now why you have been thinking about it, Miss Erso. It is clear that you disapprove of what my father had done, as anyone ought to, and you would now like to see where I stand.”  

Jyn felt her cheeks grow warm. “I do not mean to test you, Mr. Krennic. I know this must be a lot to deal with all at once, and you don’t have to say anything at the moment—”

“No, no,” gently interrupted Philip. “You are wise, Miss Erso, and you have served me well. You are right. My father had done something terrible, and I cannot just turn a blind eye to it merely because of my affections for him.”

Jyn gazed down to her lap.

“Be ill at ease no longer,” assured Philip. “I shall confront him about it when he returns from the East Indies, and then I shall make sure that he pays back what he has taken away from the Andors.” 

Jyn quickly looked up to face him. “How will you do that?” she asked.

Philip took a moment to reflect, then shook his head. “I…I admit that is something I do not yet know.”

They fell into more painful silence, and maintained it for a while. Philip, upon registering the uncertainty in Jyn’s expression, felt himself obliged to say, “I know it may sound vague, but you have my word that I will get it done, Miss Erso. I promise. If I am going to follow in his footsteps, I shall do it right by correcting his wrongs.” 

The proclamation stunned Jyn into more silence. It was something she did not expect to hear, but not something she didn't not want to, either.

Philip then leaned forward, and directly looking into her eyes, he asked, “Do you believe me?”

Jyn heard her own blood rush against her head. She exhaled air just as quickly as she inhaled them. She stared back at the Krennic son, and for a while did not—could not—answer. 

You must decide this for yourself, Lady Mothma had told her.

In all her life, whenever Jyn found herself at a crossroads, she had always relied on what she knew to decide which path to take forth.

She thought back on what she had always known of Philip. 

She decided to believe that. 

“Miss Erso?” the gentleman asked again. He watched and waited in near-agony for her reply. 

Jyn, meeting his eyes, took a deep breath. 

And then she finally spoke her answer. 

[jounosparticles]

this feels really odd to ask but but what do you think the hunting dogs' thoughts are about death? specifically if they die and how? cause I feel like all of them share a variation of "I will go down guns blazing and with glory"

fukuchi definitely feels it and I feel like jouno as well. they've both had rough and violent lives so I feel like they've always thought death was just right around the corner.

I don't know about the rest of them though. teruko I feel shares the thought but not as intense as the other two, and I dont know about tecchou and tachihara.

anyway. it's a neat thought to me :3

ohhh i’ve been thinking of the best way to answer this for DAYS. this analysis will be long so ill put it under a readmore.

the hunting dogs and death - analysis

overall, it is shown that they can die. i assume due to their abilities and bodily enhancements that they do not die of injuries very easily. it makes me wonder how disease hits them? partially mechanical bodies may not respond to illness as well as natural bodies would? or maybe the opposite and they can heal more so internally? anyways here's my thoughts on how each hunting dog perceives dying!!

fukuchi

i see fukuchi as fairly self-preserving up until the end. he can't die in battle because he needs to make sure the decay of angels plot carries out.

remember that he was warned of this at nine years old. he had to spend his life preparing for this. he likely grew very wary of living recklessly and became great at fighting very fast and young; i assume that's why he went through dojos to fight as a child.

under no circumstances could he die until the world was safe.

i imagine he put on a selfless face and was willing to take serious harm in order to protect the peace, but i highly doubt he was ever willing to sacrifice his life until his plan worked out.

here we see his thought process and how things need to fall into place. his participation was essential because in no other situation would fukuzawa be the one able to get access to the one order. if fukuchi had died beforehand, the war would play out as the amenogozen warning claimed.

he had to leave the world to fukuzawa, the man he could trust most before facing his own demise.

of course, at this point in the series he has been killed since that was the final goal of his plan. a noble death for a fantastic hero.

jouno

im actually a little conflicted on his perception of death. i believe jouno is willing to sacrifice his life if absolutely necessary but is probably more self-preserving than the others. i believe he likely uses his confident and slightly arrogant attitude to hide this self-preserving mindset. someone who comes off as intimidating or nonchalant during battle is more likely to throw off the enemy whereas appearing nervous or angry will make them seem vulnerable. i believe jouno also sees himself as very strategic and able to get out of situations easily if needed. he's a quick thinker from what we've seen thus far.

lets look at when he confronted fukuchi.

he starts off very confidently accepting the offer. we know this is a facade but him immediately trying to throw fukuchi off guard seems so show he's pretty confident in his next move.

but when this doesn't work, he immediately tries to flee. this is fairly unique for a fight in bsd, many characters will often fight until they either get what they wish or they're too injured to move. despite jouno having an ability that could dodge fukuchi's, he still chose to try and escape instead of continuing to fight. this is a very normal human reaction to have but not one you see as often.

and at a disturbance, he begins to panic and needs to ground himself by reassuring himself instead of fighting back. he's not willing to put his life on the line to stop a global terrorism and his own escape is seen as a victory, which i see as him being more self-preserving. this all took place before the sword was set on fire, so it wasn't as if he had that threat to escape yet.

however, there's a chance he just didn't know how to fight the amenogozen; but his ability was definitely one of the best to fight against fukuchi with.

still, he's smart and made sure to plan adequately in case he was injured in the battle against fukuchi. he wants to keep himself safe, but he's still smart enough to take precaution.

i think jouno has probably been through a lot in his life and wants to spend a while living happily, making him more afraid to die than the others. this is even shown when he took teruko being angry as a threat while fukuchi laughed over it.

(as a small note, fukuchi's line in the anime was "haha. it seems our gremlin is angry today" which makes more sense in this context).

so tldr i think jouno would only go down if absolutely necessary and otherwise is fairly self-prioritizing.

tecchou

i believe tecchou would sacrifice himself if it brings justice.

however, he seems to see himself as one responsible for judgement, so i imagine he gives every single fight his all.

regardless of him acting as judgement, it's been shown that tecchou is willing to die if he fails at his work.

here he promises that if he were to fail he would commit seppuku (killing oneself via slicing through your stomach--an honourable death for a samurai fighter (which lines up with irl tetchou coming from samurai lineage)), which is an incredibly agonizing way to die. regardless, he is fully willing to do it if it is for peace. this shows a confidence in death and commitment to his sense of justice to an extreme manner.

and when he found himself in a situation where he was in the wrong, he immediately admitted defeat and asked his opponent to kill him.

he admits defeat, says his wrongs and is willing to accept the consequences.

he even jumps to the harsh conclusion that he isn't worthy of his title as a hunting dog. the stark white in his eyes show that his mind isn't corrupted and that he is doing what he believes is proper justice. incredibly noble.

luckily he was spared-and likely learned a lot about justice not always being as black and white as things appear.

overall, tecchou is a very noble fighter and is willing to put his life on the line for justice. he doesn't seem to fear death and will embrace it if he feels it is earned or deserved.

tachihara

i have less to say about tachihara than the others. i see him as the type that will go down over what's right and that's shown during his fight with fukuchi.

he isn't willing to fear death or beg for forgiveness. he will go down if it is worthy.

we also see that he keeps a argumentative spirit towards the enemy despite the circumstances. he will put down his opponent even in the moment of death, he just has the confidence to.

this panel also shows that he's more willing to die than to be defeated. he doesn't want to harm anyone and be controlled so he tries to kill himself first.

overall, he's a strong fighter who isn't afraid to sacrifice his life for what he believes in. his orders make him who he is, and if the orders are to win he either will or he will die trying.

(of course that last part doesn't really count when he was posing as a mafioso because he couldn't blow his cover by easily surviving everything).

teruko

much like tachihara, teruko seems to be very willing to put herself on the line to keep people safe. this is shown almost immediately in her introduction.

if ordered, she is willing to die. she's incredibly dedicated to her job and would go down if it saves people.

she's willing to go to drastic measures to keep herself alive as well, destroying her eardrum and continuing to try and fight sigma despite being under the directed resonance guns (which were made to destroy people like her). she didn't run, and she did absolutely everything she could have done in order to win.

she seems to also pride herself in fighting and being hurt in battle, likely to show her resilience and ability to do whatever it takes if it saves people.

she even goes on to call the hunting dogs "society's servants" and refers to the enhancement surgeries as "searing order into their own bodies."

this immense dedication makes me strongly believe that she would have no problem sacrificing herself if it is for the best. she killed fukuchi despite really caring for him, so i can see her being willing to put herself into that situation as well.

tysm for the question!!!!! this was super fun to read through the scenes again and try to piece together a logical guess on them all.

[sunkissedscribbles]

“Do you think we have a choice on who we’ll be? Like, our kind?”

“Our kind?”

I nod. “Those who come from troubled families and families with great past. Do you think we’ll ever be able to just… live a normal life without people thinking we’ll bring destruction?”

He thinks for a moment before answering, “I thought you said you’d showed people your family doesn’t define you?”

“That’s never enough.”

——————————

hi everyone! i’m liz and am currently writing a mattheo riddle fanfiction called ‘prejudiced'. its main focus is actually my oc’s, cassiopeia black’s time at hogwarts, whose character i tried to write as realistically as i could, not as the picture-perfect girl we always read about on wattpad.

cass has her own struggles as someone whose father died, and as we all do/did, she has to face the darker sides of being a teenager, too; crushes, first experiences with love, figuring out who she is, finding and losing friends, fighting her inner battles and dealing with inner struggles while also participating in the second wizarding war.

as a descendant to the black family, even if she tries to live up to people’s expectations as best as she can, she has to face a lot of misunderstanding and the constant judging by other people, which only gets worse when she starts to spend time regularly with her friends in slythein, kiara, enzo, theo, and of course, mattheo, which mostly only leads to disagreements with her gryffindor housemates who don’t notice but keep the house rivalry up in a toxic manner.

——————————

the series is going to be available on tumblr from today, with a new chapter coming out every wednesday! shoutout to @sweetcolorfulies for her constant support, for making the cover for wattpad, and for her great ideas and add-ons<3

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard :Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 16

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

WARNING: 18+, MATURE CONTENT

Chapter 16

Dear Arnav,

I am writing with the last hope of reaching out to you with my words. I know you don't want to talk to me, and that is completely justified. This is my last attempt to contact you. I will not disturb you again.

First of all, I just wanted to say sorry for hurting you and your family unknowingly. I didn't know your father was married. As a sixteen-year-old girl with eyes full of rosy dreams, I couldn't resist the charm of my handsome neighbour. I was living with my old mother as my father died in the war when I was very young. Your father did marry me under my mother's persistence. And these are no justification for how I hurt your mother. I am truly sorry for what happened because of me. I didn't know any of that until your father shot himself.

Shortly after your father's death, I discovered I was pregnant. My mother refused to take any responsibility for me, so I moved to the other side of the city to start a new life with my baby. But perhaps God is punishing me for my misdeeds. I am dying. My liver is completely destroyed. The doctors say I only have a few months to live.

I had completely lost all hope, but one day I saw you at the farmer's market. You looked so much like your father, and upon asking, I learned your name. I knew in my heart that you were his son. I know it's extremely selfish of me to ask for your help, but you are the last hope of this dying mother. Please take care of my daughter after I die. She is only eleven. After I pass away, her only options will be either an orphanage or the street. I don't have any relatives left. Please, Arnav, take care of your sister. You are her last hope.

And if possible, please forgive me. I am leaving my address on the back. If you can, please visit us, your sister would like to meet you too. Even if you don't want to fulfil my request, I would still like the chance to apologize to you face-to-face.

Natalia Singh Raizada

As Khushi read the letter she found on the coat rack, which must have fallen from Arnav's coat, she felt her world flip upside down. Her mind went back to their fight last night, and Khushi remembered all the horrible things she had said to him. In every way she could hurt him, she hurt him where it hurt the most.

Last night, Arnav came back after a few hours and then locked himself in the study. Khushi spent the night on the living room sofa as she couldn't go back to the bed they shared and fell asleep in the wee hours of dawn. Arnav went to work before she woke up. Now, Khushi sat at the dining table with the letter, looking at the cold toast and omelette he had made for her. The food made her cry, not because it was cold but because the person who had made them. She had hurt him terribly. Still he was considerate enough to make breakfast for her. She polished off the plate like it was the most delicious meal she ever had.

Khushi knew she had to apologize to him. She would bear all his anger and do whatever it took for his forgiveness. An overwhelming sense of failure as a wife, as a best friend, as a lover gripped her heart in a vise-like grip. She had known him her whole life. He had always taken care of her. He had defied his conscience, risked facing scrutiny from the society and her babuji's wrath to marry her, always providing her with the best of his world. All she needed to do was love him and trust him. And she had failed at that.

She had reached a conclusion without verifying the facts, believing him to be a liar, all because she felt insecure. She had believed someone's words who clearly wanted to drive a wedge between them, instead of believing her husband.

As time seemed to crawl by, each minute feeling like an eternity until Arnav returned, Khushi found herself unable to sit still. In an effort to occupy her mind and pass the agonizing wait, she began meticulously cleaning the house, hoping the physical activity would distract her from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

Arnav returned very late at night, entering the house silently. Khushi had been waiting for him in the living room. When she saw him, she stood up, and they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

"Did you have dinner?" Khushi broke the silence, her hands wringing continuously.

Arnav nodded silently, looking at the floor, and turned towards the study, likely intending to spend the night there. However, he stopped midway when she called his name.

"Arnav... I'm sorry," her voice caught, but she managed to get the words out. Khushi was so ridden with guilt that she couldn't say anything more.

Arnav nodded silently. "It's okay," he said, still looking at the floor. When Khushi didn't say anything further, he spun on his heel to go to the study, locking the door behind him. Khushi walked up to the door and tried to knock, but instead, she placed her hand flat against the wood and pressed her cheek against it, desperate to feel his presence through the door.

(end of flashback)

That was seven days ago when Khushi apologized to Arnav. Although Arnav said it was okay, things were not the same anymore. He didn't sleep in the study anymore, but he didn't hold her in bed either. He didn't reject her touch though. But one time when Khushi draped her hand across his chest, he stiffened. Khushi withdrew her hand silently as her whole body burned with hurt. She never thought her touch would hurt him someday. He hadn't touched her at all, and it was the longest they had gone without being intimate with each other. He only replied when asked a direct question and couldn't even look at her. His nonchalance had made Khushi so emotional that she couldn't initiate a heart-to-heart conversation with him. All her words had jumbled into a giant mess. Khushi feared whether she had killed the part of him that loved her. She was terrified he wouldn't be able to forgive her for how she had hurt him. That was the one past he had tried to escape his whole life, and her behaviour, her accusations, brought him back to square one. Khushi could feel he was hurting but didn't know how to make things right.

All these thoughts swirled around her head as she sat on the bench. She usually sat there every afternoon, feeding the swans that gathered in their front yard. Some of the swans had become friendly and let her pet them. One such swan came to her, seeking attention. Overcome with emotion, Khushi hugged the swan and let go of the tears she had been holding back. She missed Amma so much. Amma would know what to do in this situation, how to talk to the love of her life, and how to break down the wall he had built around himself. As Khushi calmed down, she thought she knew what Amma would say. Amma would say that Khushi just had to apologize sincerely. She had to make things right between them, and for that, she needed to talk to him and bare her heart and soul.

She gathered herself up and went inside the house. She changed her saree and tried to present herself a little better. But Devyani ji came and whisked her away to a nearby tea party. It was already dark when she returned, and she knew Arnav was home by his shoes at the door. But he was not in the bedroom, and the study door was closed. It was no surprise that he was there. Khushi sighed sadly, realizing her opportunity of talking to him for that day was gone. She went to their bedroom to change for bed. One of his shirts was lying there on the back of a chair. She took it in her hand and brought it to her nose, pressing her face in it. Tears gathered in her eyes. She took the shirt and wore it over her pyjama bottoms. Instantly, his scent engulfed her in a tight embrace, making her miss him even more.

Not being able to get into the bed without him, she went across the living room to the study door. She knew it was locked but still gave it a try to twist the doorknob. Surprisingly, it was open. She went inside silently and spotted him lying on the sofa, sleeping soundly, still in his work clothes. There were dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if it was more peaceful for him to sleep here than with her. Khushi missed his touch so much. She sat on the floor near his hip and softly, without trying to disturb him, placed her head on the side of his thigh and closed her eyes. This little touch would have to do for now, she thought to herself.

But Arnav's eyes flew open, and he got up with a start, surprised to see Khushi on the floor.

"What are you doing down there? Come here," Arnav said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her sit on the sofa, face-to-face with him.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just couldn't sleep, so I came here and found you on the sofa," she prattled on, clutching her night clothes.

The Arnav looking at her was the Arnav she knew and loved throughout her life, not the one who couldn't even look at her. And Khushi's dam broke. She continued looking at him as her tears became uncontrollable, and she started talking rapidly, hardly making any sense.

"Arnav... I am so sorry... what I did was wrong... I shouldn't have done that... I am so sorry... please, forgive me," she let out with great difficulty amidst her hiccups.

"Shhh... Khushi, it's ok....stop crying," He took her face in his hands, wiping her tears urgently with his thumb. Khushi placed both of her hands over his on her face.

"No, it's not ok. What I did was completely wrong. I should have talked to you, I should have believed you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I...I felt so.... I don't know why she made me feel that way, Arnav.....She, I mean, Ms. Kashyap... " She took a deep breath and continued, "When I found out about her last summer, I thought you would marry her. And I loved you, and I assumed you didn't love me back.... that you loved her. My mind kept forming scenarios with you and her. It was.....it was horrible." She paused for a bit and then whispered, ".....But it isn't an excuse for what I did, or what I said. It was wrong."

Arnav looked at her with an unreadable expression, grasped both of her hands in his and raised them to his lips. He placed a kiss on her knuckles as he got lost in his thoughts. But Khushi wasn't finished.

"And then I saw you coming out of that lady's house." Arnav's eyes snapped to meet hers.

"Which lady?"

"Who came to our house the other day."

Realization dawned on Arnav as she continued talking. "And the lady has a 'Raizada' in her name. I should have been smarter. I judged too quickly. I thought of the worst..." Khushi lowered her eyes and continued, "I read the letter she sent you. It might have fallen from your coat jacket... "

As Arnav absorbed all the facts and contempleted about what she had actually thought, his face became horrified.

"Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry," Arnav said, engulfing her in his arms. Khushi clutched the back of his shirt tightly with both hands, hiding her face in his neck. Arnav held her close by her waist, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. "Shhh... I should have told you about her sooner, but I was caught off guard. I wasn't ready to deal with her yet."

"You don't get to say sorry today," Her voice muffled in his neck, tears soaking his shirt. "I am sorry. I should have believed in you." She let go of his shirt and peppered kisses all over his face.

"Shhhh... calm down," he said, taking her in his arms again. As she calmed down, their heartbeats synchronized against each other. Her limbs felt heavy.

Arnav brought her face to meet his and cupped her cheeks to wipe the remnants of tears. Her hands wrapped around his wrists instantly. She was starving for his touch and his thumb tracing her cheeks gently made her believe that everything was right in her world again. He tilted her head slightly to look in her eyes.

"And I am sorry about Lavanya too," he said softly. When Khushi was about to protest, he silenced her with a shake of his head. "There was nothing between her and me, Khushi. And I am saying this for the last time," he whispered, touching their noses together, their breaths intermingling.

And, then he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "I've loved you for the last two years, Khushi and I love you now..... and I'll love you even when you have some of your front teeth missing." This made both of them laugh and their laughter dissipated some of the sadness around them. As their skin continued to touch, the air filled with a different kind of electricity.

"We probably should talk some more," Arnav murmered in the space between them.

"We can always talk tomorrow."

Their lips met with a fierceness that surprised both of them. All the hurt, guilt, longing, and anxiety blended together, transforming into this fiery exchange. Arnav pulled her onto his lap, clutching her waist in a bruising grip, while she clutched his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding on desperately.

Soon, Their kiss calmed down, transforming into a more languid and relaxed pace, the frantic energy calming into something more smooth- a contained burn rather than a wildfire. His fingers traced a tender path along her jawlines, her hair and settled into the curve of her neck. She responded by pulling him closer as a silent plea for more. Their bodies moved in sync, drawing closer until there was no space left between them. Her hair cascaded around them like a curtain, cocooning them from the outside world.

His hands, full of desire, began to wander across her body, moving slowly but purposefully toward her chest. With a gentle squeeze, he caressed her soft curves over the shirt she was wearing, eliciting a shiver from her as she felt his body responding accordingly underneath hers. Breaking the kiss Arnav looked at her deeply, both of them breathing heavily. His hands continued to explore, tenderly tracing the contours of her form. He undid the first two buttons of the shirt and placed a kiss on the centre of her chest. He continued unbuttoning and kissing the newly exposed skin as he went, gradually revealing her body inch by inch.

A soft whimper escaped her lips, when his fingertips came in contact with her naked skin, their roughness grazing her soft and sensitive flesh, causing goosebumps to erupt all over her body. He wrapped his lips around one of her hardened peaks and sucked it softly.

Cradling his head in both of her hands, She placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head, then on his forhead, his eyebrows and kept planting tiny kisses in between soft gasps wherever her lips could reach as he showered her chest with attention. His lips and tongue explored each inch of her with tender care. His kisses travelled to her collarbone and neck as he asked against her skin, "And why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Because it smells like you, and I was missing you," she whispered into his ear, placing a soft kiss before sinking her teeth into his earlobe.

"Did you just bite me?" A smirk threatened to form on his lips as he looked at her sternly.

"I might have." Khushi bit her lower lip to control her giggle.

"You know I can bite you back, don't you?"

"You will bit me back anyways."

"Tell me to stop biting you and I will. I am an obedient husband after all." They grinned at each other, eyes twinkling with mirth. "And stop biting your lips, that's my job."

Arnav pressed his lips to hers and as promised nibbled on her lower lip. They began undressing each other. When Khushi tried to take off the shirt, he stopped her and said in between kisses, "Keep it on. It looks good on you."

He carefully positioned her in his lap again by holding her by her bottoms and they both hissed at the contact. Khushi steadied herself by gripping his shoulders as he slowly guided her down onto him, inch by inch. She whimpered in his neck as he sheathed himself into her to the hilt. Without delay, he began to move her in a steady rhythm, repeatedly filling her as her nails dug into his skin. His each deliberate and measured move sent waves of pleasure through both of them. Her soft gasps near his ear, as his length pressed deeply into her, causing shivers to run down his spine. His hands glided along her back, her sides, her bottom, her thigh, everywhere he could reach. And she melted into him. Her breathing quickened and she pressed her lips fervently against his as she surrendered herself to the sensation.

Khushi alternated between kissing him and gazing at his eyes, as she moved over him. She explored every inch of his skin available to her with soft, lingering kisses. From his neck to his jaw, his shoulders to his nose, as if she worshipped him with her lips. Her hardened peaks brushed against his chest as his hands gently controlled her movement. Their rhythm was unhurried, akin to a slow dance. In between deep strokes, he held her tightly for a bit and simply breathed her in with his forehead resting on her collarbone, his breath tickling her skin, while her fingers combed through his hair.

As Khushi savoured every moment of their togetherness, she realized she liked gazing into his eyes up close like this. She was captivated by the emotions swirling in his caramel-brown gaze. There was an intensity in his touch, in his kiss, his gaze tonight, that unsettled Khushi. And she hated it. It wasn't the kisses or the touch she disliked, but rather the fact that she made him feel like he needed to reassure her of his love. He didn't need to. Not anymore. She knew he loved her and she promised herself to always trust in his love. Now, she needed him to have the same faith in her as well.

"I love you," she said, cupping his face and gazing deeply into his eyes, feeling a slow, intense fire threatening to consume her.

"I know," he whispered as he closed the distance between their lips. As he deepened the kiss, one of his hands joined her body where they were joined. With time, they both welcomed the fire that ran through their veins as the sensation wrapped them in its warm embrace.

"I love you more than you know,'' she breathlessly murmured against his lips.

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari

[cowabungacarl420]

So, what's TMNT: Aftermath?

TMNT: Aftermath is my TMNT iteration! It exists mostly in my brain right now, but the goal is to make more posts about it and maybe eventually make some short comics or fics around it. General plot summary and character bios under the cut!

What happens when your entire life leads up to one battle, and then before you know it it's over? You're 18, your entire life stretches out ahead of you, and you realize you have absolutely no plan from here. The Shredder has been defeated. Now what? It's just you and the aftermath.

Characters

Splinter - A year after the final battle, Splinter developed a series of tumors and became mostly bed-bound. He is aware that he likely doesn't have much time left. In theory, he should be at peace. He lived long enough to watch his sons triumph over the odds and defeat the man threatening their lives. So why does he feel so much regret?

Leonardo - Leonardo often wakes up in a cold sweat. He delivered the killing blow in the final battle, and while it's something he knows he should be proud of, there's something about beheading someone that fundamentally changes who you are as a person. To soothe his guilt, Leo dedicates most of his time to meditation and caring for his ailing father.

Michelangelo - Mikey sustained a serious leg injury in the final battle. He tried to hide it, but eventually it became clear that he just couldn't continue training. And hey, he didn't see the point anyway. The Shredder was dead, right? Why should he keep practicing stupid moves and waking up early for meditation? Mikey's life is his, and he's going to do what he damn well pleases with it. Like, uhh.... Okay, maybe he left without much of a solid plan. But he has a hut on the beach front to crash in. And a group of late night partiers have been nice to him. Maybe they could be his new family.

Raphael - With Splinter unwell and Mikey quitting, ninja training screeched to a halt. Raphael is full of energy and resentment, and he has no idea what to do with it all. He befriended Casey by chance in his early teen years, and now Raph spends most of his time in his bedroom, smoking weed and talking about the kind of vigilantes they want to be.

Donatello - When things in his family life seem unstable, Donnie turns to the comforting structure of academia. Donatello has enrolled in online college! And while his robotics course is great, he can't help but feel envious of his classmates. Long nights alone, staring at their social media pages and contemplating what life would be like if he could go out and participate. Some nights, he can't resist trailing his classmates from a distance. Just to observe.

Casey - Casey and Raphael met when they were 13. Maybe it was because he was a feisty kid who didn't admit to being scared of anything, maybe it was because Raphael seemed more scared of him, but Casey didn't run off. Instead, that was the start of a bizarre but rewarding friendship between the two. Unfortunately, being friends with a giant humanoid reptile doesn't automatically make your life interesting. Casey stacks shelves at a grocery store 3 days a week, and spends the other 4 smoking weed with Raph, and discussing what their lives would look like if they actually had meaning. Did you know that the world of ice hockey is actually very competitive? It's disheartening.

Karai - It's weird seeing your dad get beheaded in front of you. Even weirder when you kind of think he deserves it. Once the Shredder died, the Foot Clan fell apart without much ceremony. Some members went off to form their own small-time petty crime rings, but not Karai. She got an apartment, and tried to figure out what her life could be when 'accessory to a war criminal' was no longer a viable career path. It's also decidedly more difficult to put that life behind you when the guy who beheaded your dad keeps trying to invite you over for tea so you can bury the hatchet. You're 90% sure he's just lonely.

April - April O'Neil saw patterns where no one else did. Some would argue she saw patterns where there were none. But god damn it, she knew what she saw on that rooftop. And no amount of being called a crackpot conspiracy theorist would stop her from getting to the bottom of figuring out who those weird looking green guys were. She WILL expose the truth this time, no matter what it takes.

[spunkykirby]

As noted yesterday, I compiled a list of Morax's sins. The following are all of his unforgivable sins according to the fandom, the inexcusable blood on his leger, the utterly indefensible actions of Morax that call him to the stand:

1. Participant in the Archon War.

Zhongli participated in the war for the stolen Authorities. No, we don't know if all Archons knew the seats held the Dragon Authorities, we just knew they knew Celestia was choosing 7 gods to rule the land and exiling the others. All that matters is he participated in it, doesn't matter if he didn't know the reason, didn't start it, or was forced! Dragon authorities are up there and that's all that matters!

...wait, we do have one reason.

"I wish not for dominion, yet I cannot let the common folk suffer." [Zhongli's Character trailer].

So it's confirmed he participated to stop innocents around him from unnecessarily suffering, he never actually wanted the leadership role. His Adepti also refer to him (and themselves) participating for the sake of "bringing prosperity back to the people" [Xianyun Story 3].

However, there is no prosperity in participating in war PERIOD, silly gooses!! How dare you act in the only way possible to lessen the violence for the innocents caught in the crossfire?? The arrogance. War criminals!! You shouldn't have participated in the first place! What happens to all the other innocents you've directly witnessed caught in the crossfire is up to them and their misfortune to bear. Not. You!

(now that I think about it, calling all of them war criminals for participating in the archon war (with majority of their moves being made in self defense) would more than likely be equivalent to calling Wriothesley a willing accomplice in the child tr4ff1cking ring he was victim to or Childe 100% guilty for everything that happened in Fontaine). But anyways.

2. He killed Chenyu Vale's god, and became the new ruler over the now godless and defenseless (because the Archon War was not over after her death) people.

Fu Jin states Chenyu was peaceful under that god's rule until the Archon War was called. She didn't know if her god chose to "go mad" over survival or "seeking the position of a god who may rule this world". Either way, she instigated a war against Morax and, frustrated in not being able to get the upper hand, decided to flood Bishui river in a last ditch attempt (which was also set to kill not only her people but the people Morax was assigned to look after. Queue his contract with his people triggering into effect).

It's not explicitly stated she died but she more than likely did. I mean, it's a war, and she wasn't going to stop murking all the innocents until she took the Archon spot.

Also...I...actually don't know if I could call it unrightfully stolen land (and before y'all bring up the whole "Archons don't belong they're on stolen land b/c usurpers" thing, so are all of the humans and beings created by the PO on this planet. Everyone who isn't a Vishap should be blamed). In order for a land to be stolen, it needs an owner still claiming ownership over it, and there was no owner holding ownership over it anymore.

The battle was also not instigated by Morax in an attempt to steal Chenyu Vale, it was first and foremost a battle out of self defense that later changed to a land naturally "changing hands" (leaders. For example you wouldn't say Focalors "stole" Fontaine after Egeria died, Ei "stole" Inazuma after Makoto or Venti "stole" all of Mondstat after the first leader's death). It would also constitute as unrightfully stolen if the native habitants fought against Morax now leading them, but they accepted his rulership over them with no underlying contempt/force. A natural and consenting change of hands.

But! Either way! Rightful self defense or not, he m6rdered! Which is bad!!!! He deserves to be punished for it and it's added onto his list of crimes!!!

3. He murked Osial, whose "d3ath"bed was the foundation of Guyun Forest.

Morax was noted to have murked Osial because Osial "wrought chaos upon his domain". Another piece suggests this was also an act of self defense, for Osial's power (whether it be out of hatred for Morax (which seems to be the more likely case because Zhongli says they were long grudging rivals) or just his general existence is unknown) extended over a large range, reaching Liyue's citizens and terrorizing them. Morax's intervention/confrontation of Osial was only noted after Osial's power reached and terrorized his citizens. There are no pieces insinuating nor confirming the opposite. [Diary of Roald the Adventurer, Vol. 6]. [Monolith Fragment].

...soooo the crime is once again murking in self defense. But violence is violence!! Punishable by law!! If Morax didn't want to be charged for this, he should've stood aside and let the waves terrorize and kill his people for many millennia to come (though wouldn't that also be breaking the contract/rules of being an archon, which is to act in the health/benefit of their citizens first and foremost?). Zhongli is damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. But who cares! Whatever he does or doesn't do in this instance is punishable by law and *true* justice!!!

4. He murked the Chi/Qingce.

It is noted the Mountainplace the Chi "ravaged" long stood before it decided to make its living place there (dispelling the myth that its corpse formed the land). People also lived there before it started to cause havoc too. It is unknown why it was driven to cause chaos, but the fact of the matter is, it caused chaos to Liyue's people specifically, and as per Morax's duty as an Archon, he stepped in to slay(?) it. It's not completely dead, just separated into pieces. Morax could not permanently kill it.

...violence is violence though! What he did is punishable by law!! Though, technically doing anything else in this instance is also punishable by law (doing nothing and allowing the monster to ravage his people is against the ideals of an archon but forcing them to move is also punishable by causing liyueans emotional duress via forcibly moving them due to outside forces they can't control but he can. Doing this each time a monster appears onto the land they've dwelt on before its existence is also unfair). [The Stars Inscribe the Year].

5. Marchosius and other Adepti participated and sacrificed themselves as a result of the war neither them nor Morax started!

...so you could say it's all technically due to Morax they're forced under these conditions (even though he didn't start the war, force the war to happen, nor force them into a contract)! Punishable!!

The Adepti, who were not forced into following Morax [Xianyun Story 3], established a contract with him to protect Liyue and his citizens. There were risks that came along with this job they decided to commit to, but they still did so dutifully. The circumstances they agreed to led to many of their deaths, including Xiao's karma, of which there isn't an insta-relief potion to. Zhongli can only slightly offset the effects.

Basically they're literally a walking: "Well if it isn't the consequences of my own actions."

6. Liyue AQ.

Morax inadvertently went through with a plan to unleash a sealed god beneath the sea, as a test (more specifically for the people who signed up knowing their job's risks. Nonetheless, they are risks he was somewhat responsible for this time around).

Despite the test naturally having risks (as any test in existence does, it's not a proper test without risk), it was a battle partially planned by his own hand. Even if he didn't directly throw the chaos at them, he was still behind the scenes, therefore shared some responsibility for it and the consequences.

The game does go out of its way to confirm nobody was ever in any real danger (3 characters confirming this, Signora doing most of the talking in the scene) and the battle wasn't even at Liyue Harbor (Keqing stating it wasn't) however Osial is still a crazy god and if anyone got injured Zhongli would share some responsibility (he could've stopped it).

This (excluding Khaenriah, we don't know what happened there) is pretty much the only "stain" on his career, in terms of judging him for being guilty of not handling the Authority healthily or whatever. He could arguably be declared guilty because he set up a risk-less divine test that came out the wazoo or he could be declared as not guilty by being argued as responsible enough (as an Archon) to properly ensure everything is prepared for his stepping down (alongside there being confirmed no actual danger). His multi millennium experience with these things is further reassurance for this claim.

7. Azhdaha.

This is...this is pretty self explanatory. There is absolutely no defense to Azhdaha's actions nor a reasonable excuse for Zhongli to not confront him (especially when Azhdaha is more than likely the Geo Sovereign. There are literally no other contenders in Liyue to stop a crazed sovereign hellbent on decimating all humans on his continent).

This...this shouldn't need any arguments. It was literally Morax confronting him or the end of Liyue (this is the same dragon frog who caused immense earthquakes when turning around in a nap. Now imagine him up and raging about!).

PS: There is no confirmation anywhere whatsoever he directly took part in decimating the Sovereigns alongside the Shades. And if this were so, it would make zero sense for Azhdaha to automatically submit and wish to become BFFs with Morax after Morax tried to lay waste to him and his brethren some years prior.

PPS: We don't know if he was directly at Khaenriah. Despite all Archons being called there, quite a few didn't actually make it to Khaenriah (Venti, Rukka, Egeria, and we have some pieces stating Morax personally directed the troops to deal with the Abyss breaking through in the Chasm during the Cataclysm).

PPPS: Zhongli does not owe Neuvillette alone anything. Neuvillette is, above all, a judge. Of Fontaine. Do you see judges of the US rushing over to Cnada to subjugate over others in accordance to their own personal laws of their land? No? It also wouldn't make sense for Ei to go over to Fontaine to wreck havoc over Fontainians not following her personal Inazuma law(s) either right? Alright same applies here (with some game logic).

[springtimesdaughter]

[warning! Callistratus Parker was eaten alive by hellhounds, the Greeks don't like traitors].

On Princess Andromeda, Nemesis forced Ethan to attend one execution of a "traitor".

Callistratus Soter Parker, son of Aphrodite and grandson of the southern spirit of the storm.

Camp half-blood turned out to be prepared for their attack in the western part and suspicion of leaking information to the enemy fell on him because he retained his romantic relationship with one of the sons of Ares, who preferred the side of Olympus.

Call cried and swore that he hadn't done it and that he and Tyler just loved each other and had never told each other anything about their side.

But Nemesis and Luke, who judged him, remained adamant and Aphrodite's son was recognized as a traitor.

But Ethan knew that his mother had brought him to the execution for another purpose...

Call had shiny wheat-colored hair and aquamarine eyes, a his fair skin was more creamy than milky, the resemblance was slight, but it was there.

Nemesis held his hand tightly, forcing him to stand still until only gnawed bones remained of Aphrodite's son.

Ethan couldn't have escaped, Ethan was frozen in fear on the spot.

Heart-rending screams, tears in blue eyes, blood-stained blond hair, the last hoarse breath.

Her golden eyes burned looking into his eyes and mother said: "I think the Olympians would be less merciful than us."

Ethan understood everything.

Sitting here thinking about the intricacies of war that don't get explored in the books. Thinking about the siblings who disagreed, the relationships that were tested, and the times that lines were drawn. Thinking about when the war comes ever so closer, when it's already there but no one wants to admit it, when nothing is enough anymore.

Some siblings still tried to meet, trying to let go of aggression for just a moment because they needed someone who understands fundamentally what it is like to be them. Sometimes, close siblings would meet on missions, in public, and later on battlefields. When the tines aren't perfectly drawn down parental lines, when it comes to morals, to visions of the future, to the emotions of children forced to be adults in the roles they must play.

Thinking about the traitors, the ones who came to regret. Both sides and no sides. The ones who thought they knew what they wanted, but when reality hit, when their faith was tested, they saw that they didn't truly believe. Wars are rarely wholly balanced. At least not in the way many understand balance. That was what Ethan had come to realise, though never more than allow it to be a passing though.

Parker hadn't been the first to die for the crime of betrayal, for sneaking information to the other sides. To falling in love and facing the consequences. There were stories of some who died before Ethan joined. The ones from the original crew who left. No one spoke their names. The wrath of Kronos, the person being put in the line of fire was avoided if at all possible.

Parker was the first execution he watched, was forced to watch. It was a balance. He had to attend; he had to watch. It was the position he occupied within the army. He was too high ranked to be gone from the punishment unless it was an actual emergency or an already preplanned mission. Neither of which existed at the moment.

Parker thought he could have love and a position in the war. He believed that love was enough and that he was careful enough. That was hubris, taking more than he deserved, unbalancing the scales. No game show participant truly won everything for nothing. There was always something waiting to take what was undeserved.

So Ethan watches; he doesn't allow himself to flinch and cannot be seen doing so. He has to show dedication. He has to give to get.

(A secret had to become open for another to stay so. No one gets everything, and some will receive nothing. Parker and his lover could not live on opposite sides of the war as long as Selina did, as long as Ethan did.)

It was the presence of the truth of reality. No one, not even himself, could play the game of love and war and come out on top with both. He had to give to get, and he had become a contradiction.

(Right hand to Kronos, secret lover of Perseus. War general and kind lover. Loyal and a traitor all the same.) It was balanced but only in the extremes it occupied, and only truly was meant to favour himself over everything.

So he pays attention to Parker's execution of the gore and violence. He doesn't allow himself to think, to deeply entwine the idea and to foster a regret that cannot and should not exist.

The Olympians and the campers would be much kinder than this. This was the fate no one truey deserved. It was evident how unfair it was in this and many cases. For the simple act of being in love, for having connections outside the army. Connections that would not be swayed to help Kronos. Those were dangerous to them all especially Kronos.

They were demigods, children, warriors and weapons. There was no balance, but there was. Demigods are a part of one existence and a part of another. Children in the picking of sides in a conflict with no truly correct answer that would fix everything were warriors in all that was taught of them. They were weapons in what else were they, if not continued weapons, continued pawns in the games of immortals.

Ethan Nakamura can easily see himself in the place of Parker when he and Percy are eventually found out. It's not a matter of if but when.

Parker was a direct threat, a reminder of what he was doing, and a warning and protection.

[ryin-silverfish]

I've seen lately that in some fsyy media, they are trying to portray Su Daji as someone who helped Zhou and put Zhou as the real villain and not an innocent victim of Daji's manipulation and bootlicking (I understand they are possibly trying to demolish "women are always to blame"). I watched this in Jiang Ziya's animated film, that Nezha animated series and the recent adaptation of fsyy, creation of the gods. But I wanted to ask, is it true what they say that the real Su Daji was slandered just to give King Zhou a bad reputation? Or was she really bad?

I assume that, by "the real Su Daji", you mean the historical Su Daji. Which is...tricky, because her very name might be a later invention!

Like, in Zhou dynasty + Spring & Autumn period sources, there were mentions of King Zhou's concubines; 尚书 described King Zhou as a "woman pleaser" and someone who was easily influenced by their words, and 逸周书 recorded that the two concubines of King Zhou hang themselves after his defeat, and their bodies were decapitated by King Wu and put on a flagpole.

This lines up with what we know about the historical Shang dynasty, where aristocratic women could, and did participate directly in political and military affairs: the most famous of them being Fu Hao, King Wu Ding's wife.

However, the name "Da Ji" did not appear in written sources until the Warring State period; the earliest one, 国语·晋语, said that when King Zhou warred against the You Su clan, they surrendered a woman named Da Ji as tribune, who gained favors at court and became the seed of Shang dynasty's destruction.

Subsequent documents like 世本 and 史记 then merged that anecedote together with earlier records, and formed a new narrative:

1)Da Ji was offered up as a tribune by the You Su clan,

2)King Zhou loved her so much that he listened to her every words,

3)King Wu killed her and put her head on a flagpole.

Once this narrative gained popularity, together with the name, it was only a matter of time before ancient historians were blaming the end of Shang dynasty solely on Da Ji, and even attributing King Zhou's supposed tyrannical deeds(cutting out Bi Gan's heart, making Mei Bo into meat sauces) to her.

"So, was she really bad?"

We will never know! No, really, it is hard to make any moral judgements when her very existence is based on shaky evidence and later extrapolations.

This extends to King Zhou/Di Xin too; whenever he was brought up in ancient historical writings, it was less about actual Shang dynasty history, and more about the writers' ideals of virtuous rulership and its opposite.

Lastly, there is the matter of value dissonance: we know, from archaeological evidence, that human sacrifice was widely practiced in the historical Shang dynasty. At its heights, oracle bone scripts recorded the killing of a thousand people in one go, and though the quantity was significantly reduced by King Zhou's time, the practice went on until the dynasty's end.

From a modern day standpoint, it is absolutely horrifying, but for a king of the Shang dynasty or a warrior-priestess like Fu Hao, to which spirits and gods and ancestral ghosts were very real, fearsome forces that could only be placated with sacrifices, it would be a vital duty.

[encrucijada]

infodump abt pathetic man adam

funniest ask i've ever gotten. no context. anonymous. a simple request.

a list of things i think i haven't talked about regarding adam, some that i have, from both the pjoverse and dreamersverse:

adam is actually pretty decent around kids. he was second in command of the apollo cabin for 5ish years before his brother lee fletcher died in the battle of the labyrinth and he was made counsellor for the battle of manhattan. adam is like that cool older brother in a 90s tv show who lets you drink beer when you shouldn't have.

in both verses he works at a bar. both as a bartender and as entertainment, depends on the day of the week. he does gigs elsewhere when he can. forewent university, didn't think he had the brain for it because of his frankly debilitating adhd. adam barely graduated high school.

weapon of choice in the pjoverse is the recurve bow because son of apollo. is capable of fighting melee (with a sword) if the situation demands it, but just barely. in the dreamersverse it's actually the opposite, he doesn't shoot with a bow at all and prefers to have something he can brute force hit things with.

speaking of debilitating adhd. adam is always fidgeting even if just a little, rarely does his leg stop bouncing and he has a clicker toy he carries in his pocket. plays around with rubix cubes not to solve them but just to spin them around. hums songs as a stim (<- he shares this one with piedad). cannot function without caffeine.

has the talent but not the creativity. can sing just about anything but not write any of his own music.

in the pjoverse he avoids singing in uncontrolled environments, because even having control over his powers he never knows if he could cause some weird side effects. only feels truly unrestrained in battle or at camp.

adam is the way he is because i was trying super hard not to make your typical "golden boy" son of apollo. also because i found the loveless cover of middle of the night. my hand accidentally slipped and now... he's this.

my best friend irl called him "cold, cutting, and prideful".

i dunno about pjoverse adam but dreamersverse adam's got a couple of tattoos. including but not limited to: a sun on his forearm, wings from his shoulder blades to the backs of his arms, a hawk eating a rabbit, three stars on his ribs, and my notes says i'm giving him a sleeve tattoo.

he never participated in a proper quest but he was there for every single bead that's on annabeth's camp necklace. was already at camp when luke first arrived.

his fatal flaw is arrogance ("however bright you shine, i shine brighter")

has a substantial collection of scars as every demigod does but of note we've got: on his cheekbone, going down from his collarbone, the stab scar on his gut. these also translate to the dreamersverse.

the only thing he got from apollo appearance-wise are the eyes. adam tends to let his hair get long until he starts considering it obnoxious, then he asks the aphrodite cabin to cut it. if you're in cabin 7 and have had hairclips gone missing, he probably took them.

if you've read pt.1 of pointed north you know candy calls adam "mi príncipe". this means "my prince."

i might be giving him brown eyes in keep staring.

his last names are flipped depending on the verse! pjoverse he's adam rubio guerra, since rubio means "fair-haired" and i thought it sounded like a child of apollo lastname. in the dreamersverse he's adam guerra rubio, guerra means "war".

has always wanted a dog.

having a weighed blanket would cure him but he doesn't know this. what he does know is he sleeps best when piedad lays on top of him.

broke his nose and it never healed quite right.

never dare him to do something while he's drunk. he will do it, no matter how dangerous it might be. the safest thing he could be doing post-break up is making out with whoever gives him attention while inebriated.

[danceworshipper]

@hphm-ship-week Prompt 5: Second Wizarding War

Fun fact, none of my ocs directly participate in the war!

Ship: Gracie/Charlie 💚🐉

Date: late June, 1997 (been in Romania for 6 years)

Fuck, it was supposed to be a good day. There were new Norwegian Ridgeback eggs that were set to hatch sometime before noon, and the whole sanctuary was throwing a party after. Someone was making fresh pizza. Would it be considered a bad coping skill to just ignore what they'd learned until tomorrow?

...yeah, it would.

Bill had been attacked. A bunch of Death Eaters and Fenrir fucking Greyback had been set loose on Hogwarts, and while no one had died, it sounded like Bill had come close.

"It's bad," Arthur said through the Floo. "I almost didn't recognize him."

Gracie thought her fingers might fall off, but she wasn't about to ask Charlie to let go of her hand. Not now. He looked like he might faint, and while Gracie was a Healer, she'd really rather if he didn't collapse on their living room floor.

"But he's okay?" she asked.

Arthur sighed. "He should be, but we can't know for sure. It's close enough to the full moon that Remus is worried something could happen, but he doesn't think it'll be anything serious. We're just going to have to wait and see."

"Is he awake? Can I come talk to him?" Charlie begged.

"He's still asleep. And these fireplaces aren't set up for international travel," Arthur responded. "He was up for a little while last night, and he was talking fine and remembered everything. I think the worst bit is the scarring."

Bill had been scarred before - he was a cursebreaker, he'd gotten a lot worse than that - but werewolf gashes on his face was a whole other level.

Gracie felt ill just imagining it. For probably the millionth time, she cursed the general wizarding world's lack of research into werewolves. There was no fixing a scar left by a werewolf, even in human form. Someday someone who actually gave a shit would figure it out, but not while this war was turning more and more people against the idea of werewolf rights.

"I've got to get some rest," Arthur said after a long pause. "I'll call you again later, alright?"

Charlie didn't answer. Gracie took one look at his face and sighed. She knew that blank expression a little too well; he wasn't there anymore.

Arthur knew it too. "Take care of him, Gracie," he said. "Bill's fine, really. I promise."

"I will," Gracie said, and the flames went out. Charlie didn't react at all.

Even as broken as he was, there were some things that Gracie knew Charlie couldn't miss, and one of those things was a hatching. He'd be devastated if he didn't get to watch their little baby claws stomping around while they squeaked. Resigning herself to a long fucking day, Gracie steered Charlie toward the kitchen to get some breakfast in him.

(Bill was one of her first ever friends, dammit, why wasn't she allowed to break too?)

She got some toast in him, and that was probably as good as she was going to get, so she gave up on the idea of a big breakfast so that they could skip lunch.

"We're going to his wedding," Charlie said suddenly.

Gracie turned the sink off, dishes half washed, and sat down next to him at the table.

"I don't care what's going on here," he continued. "I don't care if they fire me. We're going to his wedding."

"They wouldn't fire you for that," Gracie said, taking his hand.

"Even if they did."

"Okay."

"Should we move back home?" Charlie asked, looking at her for the first time since Arthur called. "I hate that they're all fighting for their lives and we're just carrying on like nothing's happening."

Gracie wanted to say an immediate no, no fuckingway, she wasn't doing that shit again and he couldn't make her, but she forced herself to breathe. The answer was still going to be no, but she understood where he was coming from. This was his entire family at risk. Hers was far from the action, so of course it would be easier for her to choose self-preservation. Plus, Charlie was a dumbass Gryffindor, so it was in his nature to be bold and rash and get himself fucking killed -

"No!" she snapped, and then sighed, because she hadn't wanted to say it like that.

Charlie stared at her in surprise.

"We can send them money and supplies, or we can bring them over here, but I'm not risking you," she said. "I can't risk you."

Squeezing her hand, he nodded. "But we're going to the wedding."

"Of course we're going to the wedding," Gracie agreed. One wedding wouldn't kill anyone. "And right now, we're going to see the hatching."

Finally there was a small spark back in Charlie's eyes. "Yeah, okay, lets go."

Somehow, they managed to make it through the hatching and even the party with only a couple of people asking if everything was alright, but it was a close call. Gracie practically fell into her favorite armchair - the one Charlie had found in an antique shop that was the perfect shade of Slytherin green - and let her eyes close. She had a pounding headache, induced both by stress and a bit too much alcohol.

She could hear Charlie pacing by the fireplace, waiting for Arthur to call again. It had better be good news when he did.

"Love, wake up."

Gracie forced her eyes open. When the hell did she fall asleep?

Charlie had tears in his eyes, but he was smiling brightly. "Bill's on the Floo, if you want to talk to him."

Wide awake, she was wide awake. Gracie jumped out of the armchair and ran to the Floo, and there his image was: beaten, scarred, and clearly exhausted, but smiling.

"Don't I look badass?" Bill joked. "I'm thinking I should get another piercing, really lean into it. Maybe a lip ring?"

"Fuck off," Gracie said, and Bill laughed, and it was all okay.

[silversdragonemporium]

Post Silver Snow in which Dimitri survived… They are doing their best to reconstruct everything that was destroyed in the war and both are plagued with survivor guilt.

Byleth took Dimitri as her prince consort for political reasons. Faerghus is happy he survived and his blood will go on into the new royal family.

They are now trying to have her first heir but both are falling apart at the seams because they are dumbasses who cannot communicate and are trying to pretend the almost every day baby making is for Fodlan when they are stupidly in love and way too horny about each other to properly function in society.

Also they are actively falling in love with each other even more every day now that they live together and actively participate in projects and ideas for reconstruction that made them see the other with the same feeling of hope, love and wonder of a 4 year old who just discovered his first favorite dinosaur.  

Silver Snow can be hopeful if you squint really hard and lowkey forget how to read….

Yeah - I am still in denial and crying.

Anon I’m so sorry I didn’t respond right away! I wanted to give it a proper response… And then I goldfish-brain’d with it. But I’m back and ready to answer!

Honestly, having him just appear out of NOWHERE in SS is so sad… and unexpected! Sure, we rescue Claude in AM and Edie has the “I wanted to walk with you :(“ scene in VW which is just straight up lifted from SS but let’s not think too much about it but Dimitri is the only one that we got told “he super died” and then we see him. It’s so odd, and so interesting… but really freaking sad.

SO ANYWAY yes, I can see Byleth, new divine monarch of the entire continent, taking up a spouse with a claim over part of the territory. It helps de-ruffle the feathers of the nobility by giving more legitimacy to her line. So on paper, it sounds great!

However, I can see how much they both could struggle with intimacy once married. (Like. Emotional intimacy, they absolutely do not struggle to get to the actual boning.). Pre-Gronder Dimitri’s problems with intimacy are pretty obvious (bucketloads of survivor’s guilt, complicated grief, hallucinations, his maternal figure was emotionally distant, etc.) but Byleth has the combo-wombo of “my class leader was in cahoots with the jerks that killed my dad and I didn’t notice until it was too late”, “I had to kill my class leader with my own hands”, “I had to kill the person that gave me a home because she went berserk-dragon-mode” and “to me, my father died like a year ago”.

I’m not necessarily saying that Byleth would revert back to “Ashen Demon :^|” mode, but I can see how she would at first try to approach the marriage as a purely practical arrangement(which it started as) but then feel guilty that she might’ve kinda-sorta indirectly strong-armed Dimitri into becoming her spouse? Since, she is the savior of Fódlan and that title does carry some clout, especially when compared to Dimitri who has no mayor military accomplishments in the war under his belt apart from almost getting killed om the 3-way battle that was Gronder Field.

On the other hand, when Dimitri is in a bad place mentally we already know that he just shuts everybody else out and only listens to what his ghosts say. So you can imagine what the disembodied chorus of ghosts have to say about the arrangement and how it would feed into the “has no right to happiness” feeling he seems to fall back on (aka the kind of thinking that’d make a dude say “yeah I’ll be happy when I die and my subjects are happy” with no irony at all).

They could start off in “super denial” mode, then having the “oh no I like-like them” and stopping by the “it’s foolish to assume that the other like-likes me” spot before reaching, “I will do anything for their happiness so I’ll support their pet reconstruction projects to make them happy”-ville before finally arriving to “wait they like-like me too!?!!?!” destination.

Thank you so much for the ask, Nonnie! Sorry again for taking so long, but better late than never, eh?

[triscribeaucollection]

For the ask game, 🍄?

🍄 share a head canon for one of your favorite ships or pairings

So, I was on an intense PJO kick a month ago, mainly with regard to Percy & Thalia & Poseidon feels, but here's a brief thing I've got in mind concerning Sally/Poseidon:

It's about depth.

This is actually a headcanon tangled up with the other brothers as well, concerning what causes them each to form an attachment, however long or brief, to individual mortals. Hades has been interpreted a dozen different ways, yeah, and when Maria di Angelo was still alive back in the day, she was almost certainly a woman of many sides, living in dangerous, unprecedented times. Maybe a good woman just trying to survive, maybe an active participant in the war, but almost almost certainly more than what other people saw her as, with a complexity that the God of the Dead who receives so much mixed fear and respect could understand.

Zeus, though, is straight up attracted to surface beauty, no disputing that fact, Beryl Grace being the latest of many gorgeous women over the eons, who could go from clear, dazzling smiles to thunderous fury in a moment if the wrong person got on her nerves. At the time that he first saw/met/encountered her, Zeus has to have been chafing under the pact he and his brothers made, to sire no more children, and for an absolute ruler being restricted definitely stings. So he sees a stunning mortal, a movie star, constantly hiding how she grinds her teeth at both the big and little things, but still wielding what power she has gained for herself with unflinching determination to come out on top. And Zeus finds himself admiring that as much as her looks, hence being the first to break the pact and conceive Thalia (and later Jason via his Jupiter aspect).

Coming back to Poseidon, he appreciates good looks as much as the next god, but he's also the one who embodies the vast seas and all that's hidden beneath a calm or storming surface. Putting on masks to disguise and secret away one's true feelings, up until the point it all becomes too much and you need to release pent-up emotions, to go off on your own and hurl the mask away and let what's really there be exposed, even if only for a few moments. Water pulling back from shore, revealing the deep crevices and hidden creatures, before the waves come sweeping in once more, you pick yourself back up, and you keep going regardless of whatever shit life is still throwing your way.

And that's Sally Jackson, undoubtedly, even before her son is born and she starts taking steps and making sacrifices to keep him safe, relying only upon herself for so long.

"You don't want him at camp."

"No, no I don't."

"Tell me why."

"You don't want to know why."

"Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that's the most unfair part of it."

...okay this turned into more of an analysis of the Big Three gods rather than a single headcanon about a pairing, but oh well x'D

[bellaswan-kinnie]

TTPD songs as characters from Greek mythology

I was inspired by the song Cassandra to find connections between other songs from TTPD and figures from Greek myth because it's not a Taylor Swift album cycle if I don't dedicate time to assigning each song to a fictional character!

I didn't do all of the songs because there's so fucking many so these are just the ones that first popped into my head... but there could possibly be a part two...

*TW: mentions of sexual assault and suicide

Fortnight // Clytemnestra

My husband is cheating I want to kill him

Of course I had to pick Clytemnestra for a song that references mariticide. Clytemnestra was the wife of King Agamemnon, the leader of the Greek forces during the Trojan War. Before setting sail, Agamemnon unknowingly killed a sacred deer of Artemis, and the goddess refused to let the winds blow any ships to Troy until he sacrificed his own daughter, Iphigenia. He told his wife and daughter that she was going to marry the great warrior Achilles, but instead, he sacrificed Iphigenia at the altar.

Clytemnestra spent the next ten years waiting for her husband to return from Troy. She began an affair with his cousin, Aegisthus, and together they plotted against him. When Agamemnon finally came home with the Trojan princess Cassandra as his war prize (yet another insult to his wife), Clytemnestra murdered both of them.

The Tortured Poets Department // Eurydice

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department Who else decodes you?

I chose Eurydice for this song only because I think she would relate to the shenanigans of dating a melodramatic musician. Eurydice was the wife of Orpheus, the most renowned poet and musician in Greek mythology. Most famously, when Eurydice died prematurely of a snake bite, Orpheus traveled to the Underworld and convinced Hades to release her. The god did so under the condition that Orpheus did not look back at Eurydice until they had reached the surface, but tragically, he failed. Orpheus was later ripped apart by the Maenads (female followers of Dionysus) in their anger at his unrelenting mourning.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys // Hera

I'm queen of sandcastles he destroys

Hera, queen of the Olympians and sister-wife of Zeus, was the supreme authority on being delusional in a relationship. Zeus was notoriously unfaithful to Hera (the goddess of marriage?!!?), fathering a comical number of bastard children. Hera was in turn notorious for taking out her anger on the women involved in these affairs, regardless of their willingness to participate in them, and the children they bore.

Down Bad // Ariadne

How dare you think it's romantic Leaving me safe and stranded Cause fuck it, I was in love

I actually started writing this post because I was listening to Down Bad the other day and it suddenly hit me that this song is soooo Ariadne.

Ariadne was the daughter of King Minos and Queen Pasiphaë of Crete. She aided the Athenian hero Theseus when he came to Crete to slay the Minotaur. The creature was contained in an elaborate labyrinth, so Ariadne gave Theseus a ball of thread to help him navigate the maze. After he killed the Minotaur, Ariadne ran away with Theseus, having betrayed her family and her home.

The pair stopped at the island of Naxos, where Theseus abandoned her while she slept. She awoke and watched his ship sail away in despair (literally "waving at the ship"), but soon the god Dionysus descended from heaven and made her his immortal wife.

But Daddy I Love Him // Helen

I'm telling him to floor it through the fences No, I'm not coming to my senses I know he's crazy but he's the one I want

Talk about a love affair causing a big ol' ruckus! Helen was the queen of Sparta and wife of Menelaus (Agamemnon's brother). When Paris, a prince of Troy, traveled to Sparta, the two fell in love and she ran away with him back to Troy (there are versions of the story where she's abducted, but I'm not referring to those here). This set off what we know as the Trojan War, the legendary conflict between the alliance of Greeks and the people of Troy. Paris was ultimately killed and Menelaus took Helen back to Sparta. Obviously the happy ending for the couple in "But Daddy I Love Him" is not what awaited Helen and Paris, but the sentiment is there!

Helen also faced a great deal of judgement from both the Greeks and the Trojans. She was blamed for causing all of that death and destruction despite the Greeks' preexisting desires to invade Troy for economic reasons. She was later dubbed "the face that launched a thousand ships" by 16th century playwright Christopher Marlowe. The scrutiny Helen has faced is akin to the kind Taylor wrote about in this song, especially considering how both women were unfairly blamed for the actions of others.

Guilty as Sin? // Phaedra

I'm seeing visions, am I bad? Or mad? Or wise? What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh Only in my mind?

This one's gonna be a little uncomfy but just hear me out!! Phaedra was the wife of Theseus, the slayer of the Minotaur who earlier I mentioned had abandoned Ariadne. Phaedra and Ariadne were actually sisters, and Phaedra was married to Theseus later in his life. He already had a son named Hippolytus, who had taken a vow of chastity as a devotee to Artemis. In Euripides' tragic play, Hippolytus, Aphrodite was insulted by this, so she made his stepmother Phaedra fall in love with him.

Phaedra was so deeply ashamed of her feelings for Hippolytus that she became suicidal. Her nurse tried to help her by telling Hippolytus about it in the hopes that he would reciprocate, but he was disgusted. Phaedra then hung herself and tried to hide her reasons by accusing her stepson of rape in a note. When Theseus read it, he called upon Poseidon to kill Hippolytus.

... So if there was one character I could say experienced a similar degree of shame-filled yearning as Taylor described in this song... Phaedra would be her.

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? // Medusa

Cause you lured me, and you hurt me, and you taught me You caged me, and then you called me crazy I am what I am cause you trained me

The most iconic female monster in Western culture, Medusa embodies the spirit of this song. "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?" conjures up images of a terrifying, crazed female figure who lives in her lair and haunts the local population, similar to the infamy of Medusa and her Gorgon sisters during the mythical Age of Heroes. The Gorgons of Greek antiquity were described as hideous monsters with large tusks, golden wings, and snakes for hair, so terrifying that the sight of them turned the onlooker to stone. The demigod Perseus was sent to retrieve Medusa's head by King Polydectes as a ploy to get rid of him so he could marry Perseus' mother. With the help of Athena and Hermes, Perseus snuck up on Medusa while she was sleeping and decapitated her. He continued to use her severed head as a weapon to turn his enemies to stone, including King Polydectes.

The Roman poet Ovid included an alternate version of Medusa's origin in his narrative poem Metamorphoses. In it, Medusa was a beautiful maiden, most renowned for her luscious hair. Neptune/Poseidon violated her in Minerva/Athena's temple, and the goddess punished Medusa for this offense by transforming her hair into snakes. This characterization of Medusa as a victim of the gods' cruelty has become the predominant one in in our culture, and the idea of an innocent woman being turned into a monster by the powers that be is very resonant with "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?"

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived // Medea

Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden I would've died for your sins instead I just died inside And you deserve prison but you won't get time

There's so many songs on TTPD that are extremely Medea coded but if I had to choose just one it's definitely this (So Long, London is a CLOSE second. I mean... woman who sacrifices everything just to live in a foreign land with a man who doesn't love her... but I digress).

Like Ariadne, Medea betrayed her father, King Aeëtes of Colchis, to help the hero Jason steal the Golden Fleece and then ran away with him. Medea was a powerful witch who used her magic and guile to defeat many of Jason's enemies for him. Euripides' tragedy Medea told the story of the downfall of their marriage ten years later. The couple was living in exile in the city of Corinth with their two sons, but one day Medea discovered that Jason had left and married the local king's daughter. If that doesn't sound like the smallest man who ever lived I don't know what does!

In her rage, Medea decided to murder Jason's new bride and her own children instead of processing her feelings by writing songs about them.

The Albatross // Pandora

Wise men once said "One bad seed kills the garden" "One less temptress, One less dagger to sharpen"

"The Albatross" references our society's history of demonizing women as harbingers of destruction. Just as Judeo-Christian mythology blamed the origin of sin on the first woman, Eve, the Ancient Greeks credited Pandora as the curser of humanity. Like Eve, Pandora was the first human woman, formed from earth. However, Pandora (and therefore the entire race of women) was intentionally designed as a punishment for men after Prometheus gave them stolen fire from heaven. The gods made her irresistibly beautiful and gave her a jar which contained all the evils and hardships of the world, which she then unleashed by opening it. Only Hope remained trapped inside.

I Hate It Here // Circe

Lucid dreams like electricity The current flies through me And in my fantasies I rise above it And way up there, I actually love it

THE introvert of Greek mythology was Circe, daughter of the sun god Helios and the Oceanid Perse. She's best known for her appearance in The Odyssey as the witch who turned Odysseus' men into pigs when they landed on her island Aeaea. "I Hate It Here" reminded me of Madeline Miller's version of the character, who was forced to live in exile but found comfort in her solitude through her magical craft.

The Prophecy // Achilles

Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

Known as "the best of the Greeks," Achilles was a central figure in Homer's The Iliad, the epic poem set during the tenth and final year of the Trojan War. The poem depicts Achilles' wrath, most notably, following the death of his beloved companion, Patroclus.

Prior to the war, Achilles' mother, the Nereid Thetis, prophesied that he would either achieve glory and die young or live a long, unremarkable life. When the Greeks started gathering their forces to invade Troy, Achilles attempted to hide and avoid the war, but Odysseus sought him out because he was also prophesied to be the only way the Greeks could win against the Trojans. Achilles ultimately fulfilled both prophecies, defeating the Trojans' best warrior, Prince Hector, and then dying in battle.

In The Odyssey, Odysseus travelled to the Underworld and spoke to Achilles, telling him how highly-regarded he was among the Greeks and the dead. Achilles expressed his regret over choosing the short and glorious life, saying,

I would prefer to be a workman, hired by a poor man on a peasant farm, than rule as king of all the dead.

Peter // Penelope

But I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded I hoped you'd return

Penelope was the wife of Odysseus, king of Ithaca and a key figure in the Trojan War. She spent 20 years waiting for her husband to return from Troy, and during that time her household was plagued by suitors (the men masquerading!!) who tried to pressure her into remarrying. Penelope remained faithful to her husband and came up with a clever trick to stall the suitors until Odysseus returned. She told them that she would choose her new husband after she finished weaving a burial shroud for her father-in-law, Laertes, but every night, she would undo most of the day's work.

Unlike Peter in the song, Odysseus did return to Penelope, but she didn't accept him until he proved his worth and his identity.

The Bolter // Daphne

Then he'll call her a 'whore' Wish he wouldn't be sore But as she was leaving It felt like breathing

The nymph Daphne was the daughter of the river god Peneus. She was pursued by many but wished to remain a virgin forever like the goddess Diana/Artemis.

The god Apollo boasted to Cupid after slaying the dragon Python, and in retaliation Cupid shot his arrows at Apollo and Daphne, but the one that pierced Daphne inspired repulsion instead of love. Apollo then chased Daphne relentlessly. The nymph eventually tired from running and she begged her father to save her. She then transformed into the first laurel tree, whose leaves represent victory.

Really the only similarity between Daphne and "The Bolter" is the running bit... but I had to!