#It was never about child soldiers or whatever bullshit people love to claim

[qcomicsy]

You know what it gets me? Bruce Wayne loved Dick Grayson on purpose. Bruce saw that little boy lose his parents and he took his hand on the same day deciding, I'm going to love you on purpose. I will take care of you. I have no idea on how to take care of a child, I've never imagined myself taking care of one either. But I will try with ever fiber of my being to give you a good life. I don't know how to love but I will love you.

And he's been keeping that promise ever since.

Batman: Year 3 (1989)

[pitubea1910]

Happy to oblige

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Featuring: Avengers + Harry Styles (random, I know)

Word count: 7k

Warnings: some swearing

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: it’s been ages but I’m finally posting something again! Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

You were in love with your best friend and he had no idea. Cliché, right? Yes, you couldn’t deny it, but it was still frustrating and heartbreaking at the same time.  

You and Bucky were inseparable since you two met. It turned out that you were the only person -besides Steve- who could keep him calm and, as a matter of a fact, he helped you get over the loss of your family during a terrorist attack that you couldn’t prevent. 

After that day, he showed up at your room every day to check on you. He never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. If you wanted to spend the day in bed, he could crawl in with you. If you wanted to cry, he could be your shoulder; if you wanted to scream, he would listen; if you needed to punch someone, he would be your adversary. It didn’t matter what you needed: he would give it to you. 

It was kind of impossible not to fall for him, even if it was only one-sided. You had never told him how you felt, so you didn’t really know how he felt about you. However, Steve and Nat kept on insisting that he loved you back. You never believed them. It was easier that way. And, eventually, you got used to those feelings, they became a part of you and you learned to live with them while having him as a friend. 

“You seriously aren’t going to tell him”, Natasha said when she watched you hug Bucky goodbye. He was leaving with Steve and Sam for a meeting with Tony and wouldn’t be back until later that night. 

“How many times do we have to talk about it?” You said, stealing a few popcorns from her bowl. 

“As many times as it takes you to tell him you love him”, she replied. 

“Well, get comfortable then. I’m not telling him”, you shrugged. 

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met”, she sighed. “He loves you too! You could be living your perfect love story, having mind blowing sex every day and yet, you chose-”

“Friendship, Nat”, you interrupted her. “I chose friendship. Also, you don’t know if he loves me”, you added.

“Of course I do”, she said. “He told Steve.”

You were about to throw a popcorn in your mouth but stopped mid-way. You looked at her, not sure you had truly heard what she had just said. 

“Excuse me?” You asked. 

“Yeah”, she shrugged with a small smile. You narrowed your eyes at her. 

Natasha was a great friend, but she was also really good at deceiving and you knew she would do anything in order to get you two together. Even lying about this. 

“Don’t give me that look!” She said. “I promise I’m not lying. He told Steve at Clint’s birthday party. You were flirting with that guy from the bio team-”

“He was the one flirting with me!”

“Whatever. Bucky was drunk and got jealous, so he spilled the beans to Steve and I happened to be close enough to listen to him”, she shrugged. 

“Clint’s party was weeks ago! Why didn’t you tell me?” You frowned. 

“I thought he would tell you, to be honest. I never thought he would be so slow”, she said with a roll of her eyes. “Too much for a super soldier, huh? Take down terrorists, put himself in the middle of a battlefield, but sharing his feelings it’s too much.”

“Natasha, this is not funny”, you warned her. “If you’re lying…”

“I’m not!” She exclaimed. “Anyway, it’s not like you can say anything. If you did, you would have to admit that I told you and they would know I had been eavesdropping and I would look like a major gossip.”

“And your reputation is way more important than your friend’s happiness?” You asked. 

“Five minutes ago you were refusing to come clean, so don’t try and make me feel bad”, she said. 

You looked at her for a few seconds before grabbing another handful of popcorn and getting out of the living room. Was she saying the truth or was everything a trap to make you confess your feelings to Bucky? Her story seemed too real to be a lie, and you remembered Bucky’s strange behaviour during Clint’s party. Back then, you thought he was just drunk, but maybe he was really jealous. 

You had to find out the truth without exposing Nat. Although you had no idea how to do it.

That night, you came back downstairs after spending the afternoon in your room trying to come up with a way of discovering if Bucky truly had feelings for you. You didn’t have a proper plan, but you had a few ideas. What you didn’t expect was that it would be Tony the one to give you the perfect plan without even knowing it.

“Is everyone back?” You asked Natasha, who was still on the couch, now reading a magazine. 

“Yeah, they came back a while ago. Steve is making dinner”, she said. 

“Oh God”, you mumbled. “Are you ordering pizza, then?”

“Yeah, I have the order ready on my phone. Check it out in case you want to add anything”, she said. 

You took a seat next to Nat and took her phone, doing as she had said. To be honest, Steve was one of the best people you had ever met, but he was a complete disaster in the kitchen. He knew it, but he kept on trying. And failing. So it was always good to have a backup plan whenever he decided to make dinner. 

“And Bucky is talking to Tony, by the way”, Natasha commented. You glanced at her but made no comment. 

“Bullshit, Stark. I’m not doing it!” You heard an angry Bucky saying. 

When you looked up from Nat’s phone, you saw him coming up from Tony’s lab, with a smirking Tony closely following. You sighed and looked at Nat, who just shook her head. It was common knowledge that Tony enjoyed messing with Bucky, so you barely paid attention to their little quarrels anymore. 

“C’mon, it’s not a bit of a deal. We will all do it”, Tony said. This time, you were curious.

“Do what?” You asked from your spot on the couch. 

“We have been invited to a premiere”, Tony shrugged. 

“That’s cool!” You smiled. 

“What?” Bucky frowned. 

“What’s wrong about a premiere?” Natasha asked. 

“Interviews”, you finally said with a chuckle. “It’s impossible for us to make an appearance in such a public event and not get interviewed. And someone here”, you looked at Bucky, “hates cameras, mics and interviews.”

“Plus, it’s not even for a good movie”, Bucky mumbled. 

“Dunkirk premiere in London”, Tony shrugged. “Nolan called and invited us.”

“You’re friends with Christopher Nolan?” You asked shocked. 

“Oh please. I’m his daughter’s godfather”, Tony said. 

“Well, I’m in”, you immediately said. 

“Of course you are”, Steve said coming out of the kitchen. “Harry Styles is on that movie so he’ll be at the premiere”, he winked. 

“I never mentioned him”, you smiled widely. 

“Who’s that?” Bucky frowned. 

“Oh boy…” Natasha said in a whisper. 

“(Y/N)’s celebrity crush”, Steve quickly said. “Nat, can you please order pizza? I burned the chicken.”

“On its way”, Natasha said taking her phone and placing the order. 

“So, you’re in?” Tony asked. 

“Of course!” You said with a huge smile. “I mean… the trailer looks amazing and I love London.”

“Yeah…, London”, Natasha mumbled. 

You smiled to yourself but decided not to say anything else, especially since you felt Bucky staring at you which made you feel nervous and, for the first time, you allowed yourself to think that Natasha had told you the truth.

During the following days, there were still several fights about the premiere. Most of them between Bucky and someone else. For some reason, he still refused to go, which was stupid. Eventually, it just became exhausting to keep on listening to same excuses over and over again 

“Bucky, no one is forcing you to come, for god’s sake!” You finally said the night before you all were travelling to London.

You were having dinner all together, as usual, and Bucky was complaining to Steve about how he didn’t like being in public, cameras, dressing up and all that ‘Hollywood shit’. You had had enough of him by now and you just wanted to have a nice dinner. Yet, everyone was surprised to hear you snap at him.

“Excuse me?” He asked frowned.

“You’ve been complaining for the whole fucking week, like a child who’s been forced to go to his great aunt’s birthday”, you said, everyone looking at you. “We are all excited about this trip, about having a distraction, about not being superheroes for just one. Fucking. Day. So if you don’t want to come just because someone might want to interview you, if you think it is so annoying, so shallow, just stay here!”

No one said a word after you finished talking, not even Bucky who usually had a reply for everything. You huffed and looked at your plate, just to find out that you had lost your appetite. Throwing one last glare at Bucky, you excused yourself and got up from the table, claiming you still had so clothes to pack.

You didn’t understand what had got into Bucky. Yeah, you knew he wasn’t comfortable around cameras, that he didn’t like being in the spotlight, but he never complained so much about it, so you didn’t get what was so annoying about this particular situation. Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. But no one was going to spoil this experience. Not even your stupid, whinny, alleged best friend.

“Hey…”

A while later, when you had finally finished packing, there was a knock on your door and Nat’s head popped in.

“Can I come in?” She asked and you nodded, sitting up on your bed and putting your phone down. “You okay? That was quite unexpected down there.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry”, you shrugged. “I just got tired of his whinning.”

“Still, you had never snapped like that before”, she said, taking a seat on your bed.

“Yes, I have”, you laughed.

“Not at him”, she pointed out.

You opened your mouth to reply, but maybe she was right, so you just shrugged and looked down.

“I don’t know, it just annoyed me”, you finally said. “I’m so excited about this trip, going to London, the premiere, everything, and it felt like he was kind of ruining it with all his complaining. I don’t even know why he’s acting like that.”

“I think I may know”, Nat said with a small smile.

“Enlighten me, please”, you sighed.

“He’s jealous”, she simply said. You raised an eyebrow, not knowing what she was talking about. “The day after Tony told us about the premiere, I found Bucky doing some research on Harry Styles.”

“What?” You asked even more confused.

“Steve mentioned him, remember? That he will be at the premiere and that you have a crush on him”, she explained.

“So what? I have a crush on half of Hollywood”, you laughed. That was true. You were such a fangirl.

“Yeah, but you haven’t met half of Hollywood”, she shrugged.

“Nat, that doesn’t make any sense”, you said. “Why would he be jealous of someone I haven’t even met and someone I don’t even know if I will meet.”

“Oh, you will meet him”, Nat nodded. “I’ll make sure of that, don’t worry.” You laughed but said nothing, since you knew she could really make that happen. “And he’s jealous because he is in love with you. I already told you. 

“Okay, I’m not having that conversation again”, you said. “I’m going to sleep, we have an early morning and a long flight tomorrow. So goodnight.”

“Are you kicking me out?” She asked, acting offended.

“Yes, Black Widow. Get out of my room and close the door on your way out”, you said, kicking her back gently.

“You know I’m the only one standing between you and a marriage with Harry Styles, right?” She said getting up from your bed.

“Yeah, you and a billion of other girls. Go!”

Next day you and Steve were the first ones to be ready and were already waiting by the mini van that would take you to the airport, where Tony’s private jet was waiting for you. As usual, everyone else was running late, which was extremely annoying to Steve. It was annoying for you too, but you had got used to it.

“They are waiting for us. We were supposed to be at the plane 10 minutes ago”, he said.

“We could just go and leave them here”, you shrugged. “That would teach them something.”

“As tempting as that sounds…” Steve said, making you laugh.

Finally, you heard people coming down the stairs, so you took your things from the floor, glad that you would be on your way. Wanda and Natasha were the first ones to show up, apologising over and over again and coming up with lame excuses that you had heard a million times before. To your surprise, Bucky was just behind them.

You hadn’t talked to him since last night, when you snapped at him, but you had seriously thought that he would stay behind, sulking. And yet, there he was, carrying a travel bag over his shoulder and looking as he had to go to war again.

“Where’s the rest?” Steve asked.

“Tony was just talking on the phone with the pilot, telling him we would be there in 30 minutes.” Steve huffed, obviously annoyed. “I know”, Natasha chuckled.

“Clint and Bruce called last night”, Wanda said. “They can’t make it. Clint’s wife has the flu and Bruce can’t leave the lab right now. They’re working on some healing serum.”

“Oh and Thor will meet us there”, Natasha added. “He sent a message and said he will be using the Bifrost. Parker has homework and we couldn’t contact anyone else.”

“Good”, Steve nodded.

“I’m going to the groceries store down the street to get some snacks. See you in a moment”, Wanda said.

“I’m coming with you”, Steve said. “I’m sick of waiting.”

“Me too! I want to get some magazines”, Natasha said.

You asked Steve to get you some of your favourite candy and soda. Although you knew you would have plenty on the plane, it was a long flight. The three of them left, leaving you and Bucky alone and in silence.

“So you decided to come?” You finally asked.

“I’ve never been to a premiere before, so”, he shrugged. “A new experience I guess”, he added.

“You could’ve started with that instead of whining about it for the whole week”, you said.

“Sorry about that”, he sighed. “I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone. I was being a jerk.”

“You think?” You said with irony and looked at him. He actually looked sorry, so you sighed and smiled a little. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

Bucky’s face lit up with a smile, obviously glad that you weren’t mad at him anymore. It was one of the few things he couldn’t stand: the thought of not having you in his life. For the first time in a few days, he came close to you and pulled you in for a hug, kissing your head in the process.

Everyone knew that Bucky wasn’t the hugging type, but you had always been the exception. He loved having you in his arms, cuddling with you, hugging you. It made him feel safe, home, and he had been through hell the last few days without your contact.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Tony said rushing downstairs. “The pilot said we have a really small window of time if we want to leave before noon. Where’s everyone?”

“They went to get some snacks. They said they would be waiting in the van”, you explained.

“Perfect, let’s go then. You can go back to your cuddling on the plane. You can even have a private room”, he said rushing into the elevator.

You rolled your eyes, but followed him anyway. You were used to his comments, even if they still made blush every single time.

***

Lights, cameras, excitement, screams, noise. Those were the words to describe the moment you got out of the car at Leicester Square. The place was completely packed, surrounded by screaming fans, reporters, photographers or just curious people who happen to go by the Square on that fine summer afternoon.

The red carpet followed all the way from where the cars were arriving, to the doors of the Odeon theatre, creating a path where you could see the actors, producers and anyone who had been invited coming up and down, saying their hellos to those they knew or stopping for photos and interviews. It was exciting.

Since you had been the first one to get into the car, you were the last one to get out of it and stand next to Wanda and Natasha. Steve, Bucky, Tony and Thor came in the following car. However, at the sight of you, there was a raise in the volume of the screams. It looked like your presence was a complete surprise for everyone.

“Should we go on?” You asked.

“Let’s wait for the rest”, Natasha said, smiling at some girls screaming her name.

You were aware of people knowing who you were, you knew you were on the news many times and you had seen some fan accounts about yourself. But you had never been exposed like this and you had to say that the energy was exhilarating.

“Get ready for the screams”, Wanda said when the guys’ car pull over behind you 

You three took a step aside, so they could come out comfortably and waited. The reaction when Steve first came out of the car was out of this world. You could literally feel the ground beneath your feet shaking a little bit. And it only escalated when Thor, Bucky and, finally, Tony followed the Captain.

“Wow”, Steve said coming closer to you with a small smile.

“I know”, you chuckled looking around before focusing on Bucky, who was a bit stiff but looked at handsome as ever.

Since you had been running late, you hadn’t had the time to see him before leaving but he was… hot. He was wearing a pair of black trousers, a black open blazer revealing a white shirt that fit him perfectly. He had let Tony’s stylist to get his hair ready, giving it a ‘just woke up’ look that really suited him.

“Hey there”, you said coming closer to him. He looked down at you and gave you a forced smile. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better”, he admitted. “But I’ll be okay.”

“Call my name if you need me”, you said, squeezing his hand gently before turning around.

“(Y/N)!” You heard him calling. You turned around, confused. “I need you”, he said with a small childish smile.

“Idiot”, you said with a small smile. “I think you can make it through the carpet without me”, you winked.

Bucky looked at you walking away, holding onto Wanda’s arm as you stopped for your first interview. He couldn’t help smiling as he took in how good you looked. You were wearing a long white jumpsuit that hugged your body perfectly and brought out the tan that you had got over the days of summer you had spent at the beach just last week. Its back was open, which –for Bucky- made you look even better.

Above all, you were happy and it was obvious. You couldn’t stop smiling, laughing, charming everyone, especially Bucky.

“You’re drooling, soldier”, Thor said, taking Bucky out of his trance.

“What?” He asked.

“She looks stunning indeed”, Thor nodded. “I would make a move before anyone else does.”

The God of Thunder patted his back and was on his way. Maybe he was right. But he wouldn’t even know what to say if he gathered the courage to talk to you. For the time being, all he could do was move along the carpet and hope this all was over soon.

It wasn’t like you were the biggest fan of interviews, but you were good at them. You knew how to avoid personal questions and how not to give much information about anything. You were charming, polite and kind with everyone, laughing at their jokes and making your own. Summing up: you knew how to make people love you.

“Thank you for your time, enjoy the movie!” The reporter from The Guardian said.

“Thank you, have a nice evening”, you said back and turned around to talk to Wanda, but she was busy talking to some guy you had never seen.

“You’re a natural”, Natasha said, walking up to you when she finished taking some photos.

“Tony gave me some tips”, you shrugged. “I just did the opposite of what he told me.”

Natasha laughed out loud, but before she had the time to say anything, the screaming grew even louder. You both looked at the beginning of the carpet, where a black Mercedes had just stopped and a black haired boy had come out. He was talking to a really big guy so he wasn’t facing your way, but you knew who he was immediately.

“Pinch me”, you mumbled to Natasha.

“What?” She asked confused and looked at you. “Oh…”

Harry Styles had just turned around and was walking towards the carpet, followed by who probably was his bodyguard. You had been a One Direction fan for years and had had a crush on this person since the beginning. You had even been to some of their concerts –both in the band and as a solo artist-, but you had never had him so close before.

“Are you blushing?” Natasha laughed when she looked at you.

“What? No, I’m not!” You said, placing your hands on your cheeks. “Am I?”

“Either that or you used too much blush”, she said with a smile.

“Shut up”, you said. “Let’s just keep going before we look like idiots.”

“We?”

“Can you just be a bit more supportive?” You said. Just then, Wanda was back with you.

“Now I know why you have a crush on him”, she said with a smile. “He’s hot.”

“Shut up! Both of you”, you said and walked away from them before they continued teasing you.

For the next half hour of the premiere you were completely unfocused. So much that you decided to talk with as less reporters as possible, convinced that you would look like a fool if you did. Every few minutes, the volume of the screaming would go up, meaning that some other actor of the movie had made an appearance. You truly thought you would faint when you saw Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy together.

“Enjoying yourself?” Steve asked when he caught you alone after you were taking some photos.

“Pretty much, yeah”, you nodded. “You?”

“Yeah”, he said looking around. “We don’t get to do this often, so it’s a nice change.”

“(Y/N), Captain! Can we please get some photos?” A reporter said.

“Duty calls” you said with a smile as Steve placed a hand around your waist, to pose for the cameras.

“Finally, I find you!”

You turned around and suddenly felt your hands all sweaty when you saw Natasha coming up to you, followed by Wanda and –of course- Harry. You glared at her, having no idea what she was doing.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you”, your alleged friend said with a huge smile.

“Hello there”, Harry said with a charming smile.

You had heard his voice and his accents on videos before but you swore it was even deeper than ever before. You took a deep breath and looked briefly at your friends, who slowly stepped away with small smirks on their faces.

“Hi”, you said, a smile appearing on your lips. “Really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Turns out that Nolan is friends with Tony Stark so…”, you shrugged.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages, so I’m glad he invited you all”, the singer said.

“You wanted to meet me? Why?” You laughed.

“You’re kidding me?” He smiled. “You’re an Avenger!”

You laughed a little and nodded to yourself. You guessed he had a point. You had been crushing on him for ages, but you had never thought of the possibility of him actually knowing who you were. And now that he was right there, in front of you, admitting to be your fan, you had no idea what to do.

Just like Bucky.

He had been watching the whole interaction from afar and he could feel his blood on fire. The only reason Bucky had decided to join the trip, was that he needed to see this guy. Your celebrity crush who you were laughing with. He clenched his fists and looked at all the cameras pointing at you two. Of course. You looked great together. You were both young, good looking, obviously charming. He had been around long enough to know that the public would pair you up immediately.

“You shouldn’t stare”, Steve said, coming to his side.

“I’m not”, Bucky mumbled.

“If it was possible, there would be a hole on that guy’s face”, Steve laughed. “They’re just talking. Calm down.”

“I’m calmed”, Bucky said. Steve sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What?”

“Do you realise that you have no right to be like this, don’t you?”

“Why not? Am I supposed to be okay with a British good looking guy just… charming her away from me?”

“No”, Steve replied. “But you have never told her how you feel, so she’s free to do whatever she wants.”

“You’re the one who never shuts up about her feelings for me”, Bucky said.

“So? You’ve never made a move, do you really expect her to wait forever?” Steve asked. “They’re just talking though”, he added with a shrug before walking away.

“Yeah… just talking”, Bucky sighed.

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve was right. Bucky couldn’t claim you anything. You didn’t even know how he felt about you, how he wanted more than just a friendship, how your smile would make his heart skip a beat and how not being able to kiss you was physically painful. And he hated himself for taking him so long to realise it. What if you were ready to move on? 

“C’mon, this is your debut movie and you’ve worked with Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy! Those are goals”, you said with a smile.

“You literally save lives for a living”, Harry replied and, to be honest, there was nothing you could say about that.

“I guess we’re both pretty awesome”, you said, making him laugh.

Just then, a man with a clipboard approached Harry from behind and said something in his ear. Harry nodded and looked at you.

“I have to go. They’re going to introduce the cast and everything”, he explained.

“Of course! Go”, you said with a nod.

“Talk to you later? We’ll have an after party, you should all come”, he said. You smiled and nodded. “Perfect. Here…” he gave you his phone. “Put your number in and I’ll text you.”

Without actually believing what was happening, you did as he told you and gave his phone back. He winked and left quickly towards the end of the carpet, where a stage had been set.

“Enjoying yourself?” You turned around to find Bucky behind you.

“Absolutely”, you smiled widely. “Although I’m freaking out.”

“Yeah, I saw you talking to that guy you like”, he said, looking at Harry who had just got to the stage.

There was something about his tone that you didn’t like. It was like he was accusing you of something, which you didn’t appreciate. He had no right to do so.

“If you have something to say, just say it”, you said crossing your arms over your chest.

“It just looks like you’re getting plenty of attention, that’s all”, he shrugged casually. Although you knew him well enough to know there was nothing casual about how he was behaving.

“Not from the only one that would matter”, you said and turned around without giving him a chance to think about what you had said.

Bucky kept his eyes on you while you walked away, trying to understand what you had just said and what it meant. Were you talking about him? Was he the one who mattered or was his mind playing games? He had no idea. All he knew was that you were upset with him and he knew he had been acting like a jerk for quite some time now.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe you were tired of waiting. Maybe you were moving on.

***

Bucky’s attitude really pushed your buttons so much that you decided to keep your distance during the rest of the evening. He had been a total jerk since the moment Tony told you all about the premiere. You thought that the change of scenario would change his mind and he would relax. Obviously, you had been wrong.

The movie was everything you expected and more. It kept you on edge the whole time. The whole crew had done an outstanding job. It was definitely one of the best movies you had watched lately. And the whole situation of being one of the first people to watch it, only made it more special.

Before you could suggest going to the after party that Harry had mentioned –and already texted you about it-, Nolan himself invited you. So the moment the movie finished, you went on your way. It wasn’t far from Leicester Square, but it was still safer to go in the cars so no one would know where you were going and could have some privacy.

“So? Did you like it?”

Just when you walked into the party, Harry approached you, taking you by surprise.

“I loved it!” You said smiling widely. “And you were amazing”, you added.

“Thank you”, he nodded. “I’m proud of it, to be honest.”

“You really should be”, you said, biting your lip a little. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, pointing at the bar at the end of the place.

“Please!”

Bucky observed the two of you walking towards the bar. He sighed and walked down the few steps that were next to the door. He was feeling more and more like an idiot since you walked away from him at the premiere, and he was still thinking about what you had said.

“You okay?” Natasha asked, showing up with a drink in her hand and another one for him.

“Thanks”, he said, taking the glass from her. “I’m okay, just…”, he sighed and pointed at you and Harry, who were talking and laughing at the bar.

“Oh…” Natasha smirked and looked at Bucky. “She’s having fun, don’t you think?”

“Why did you introduce them?” Bucky asked, turning away from the bar, so he could get that image out of his mind.

“She wanted to meet him but would have never introduced herself”, she said. “I just helped a little.”

“Thanks for nothing, then”, Bucky said.

“If you like her, go and tell her”, she said. “But don’t expect her to wait around forever when you have never made a move to let her know how you feel.”

“And how does she feel? Am I supposed to just jump into the swimming pool without knowing if there’s water?” Bucky asked.

“If you still don’t know that the pool is overflowing, then you’re even blinder than I thought you were”, Natasha said.

Bucky sighed and ran a hand over his head. Why did it have to be so complicated?

“What would you do?” He finally asked. As much as he hated asking for advice, he was completely lost.

“Me? I would go across the room and kiss her”, she simply said. “But given she’s busy talking to someone and also mad at you, I wouldn’t advice it.”

“Then?”

“I would talk to her and tell her how I feel”, she said. “Not as dramatic as a surprise kiss, but still honest and useful.”

Bucky sighed and turned slightly to look at you two again. When he didn’t see you, he started looking around like crazy. Where were you?

***

“I really was starving”, you said as you and Harry walked down the street with a burger each.

“Why didn’t you eat anything before the premiere?” He asked before taking a bite from his burger.

“It was the cinema. I thought we would get popcorns, to be honest”, you admitted, making him laugh so hard he almost choked. “Don’t laugh!” You said, although you were laughing as well.

“You’re adorable”, he said, making you blush a little.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go indoors?” You asked once again. You didn’t want him to be on every page tomorrow, especially because of you.

“Don’t worry about it”, he said. “I’m having a good time.”

“Me too”, you admitted. Then, you felt your phone vibrating into your purse. “Give me a second.”

Harry took your burger so you could get your phone out. It surprised you to see Bucky’s name on the screen. Your first impulse was to pick it up, but then you remembered that you were still mad at him and decided to decline the call. You turned your phone off, shoved it back into your purse and took your burger back from Harry.

“Everything okay?” He asked concerned.

“It was Bucky just being annoying”, you said.

“I kind of saw how he kept on looking at you”, he said. You looked at him surprised.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Let’s say he has a really deathly glare”, he said with a chuckle. “If looks could kill, I would be ten feet under by now.”

“What? No”, you laughed.

“Trust me, I know what I saw”, Harry said. “He likes you.”

You frowned but said nothing about it. It was one thing having Natasha telling you about Bucky’s feelings. But if even Harry, a person who had zero contact with any of you, who knew nothing of you or Bucky, had seen that… then maybe Natasha never lied and Bucky did have feelings for you.

That thought would have filled you with joy at any other moment. But thinking about it now, it only made you angry and frustrated. Why did he have to be such an idiot if he had feelings for you? Why couldn’t he just make a move? Or where you supposed to just take a leap of faith?

“Sorry. I said too much”, Harry said after a moments of silence.

“No, no”, you quickly said. “Everything’s okay. It’s just…” you sighed.

“Do you have feelings for him?” He asked. You laughed bitterly. “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. My celebrity crush since I was 17”, you said. This time, Harry laughed quietly.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “I knew you were out of my league since I saw you and now I understand why.”

“Me? Out of your league?” You asked shocked and he nodded.

“There’s no competition if you already love someone else, don’t you think?” He asked with a smile.

“Am I that obvious?” You said defeated.

“I’m observant”, he shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t get him”, you said. “We’ve been best friends for ages and I’ve loved him all along without saying anything. I got used to idea of just being his friend and the second I mention someone else, someone who I hadn’t even met yet, and he starts acting like a total jerk. If he have feelings for me, why doesn’t he just say so?”

“Sadly, sometimes we have to see those we love walk away in order to know how much we care”, Harry said. “I think you should talk to him.”

“And say what? That I know he has feelings for me because my crush suspects it?” You asked sarcastically.

“Well… that’s an option”, he said, making you laugh. “But I would just be honest and tell him how I feel.”

You sighed but didn’t reply. You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation with Harry Styles, the guy you had admired most in your entire life, the guy you had fantasied about meeting a thousand times. And there he was, giving you romantic advice on how to talk to your best friend. Life was nuts.

***

Bucky was going nuts. The moment he had walked around the party twice, not finding you anywhere, he had stepped outside to call you. And he got sent to voicemail. Over and over again. You didn’t just hang up on him, you had also turned your phone off. He was fuming.

Without saying a word to anyone, he took a taxi and went back to the hotel where you were staying. At some point, you had to come back, and he would be waiting for you just at your door. While he waited, he tried to call you at least five times without any success, he was filling your voicemail with nonsense but he didn’t care.

“I swear it, (Y/N), if you don’t pick up the damn phone”, he said on the phone, “I will-“

“You will what?” Your voice said behind him.

He turned around to find you standing there, as beautiful as ever, with the card of your room in your hand, and looking at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Where have you been? Where did you go?” He asked, putting his phone down and ignoring your question.

“Last time I checked, you’re not my father, so I don’t have to explain myself to you”, you said, walking to your door.

“You were with him, right? That British singer”, he said while you opened the door.

“So what if I was?” You asked walking in. You considered slamming the door shut, but you knew him well enough to know that he had no problem breaking in, so you just left the door open for him.

“You just met him”, he said, walking in behind you and closing the door.

“What does that even mean?” You asked, throwing the purse on your bed and turning to face him. “Yes, I left with him to have dinner, so what?”

“Something could have happened”, he said with a shrug.

“Something like what? He could have kissed me?” You asked. You could see him flinching at the word. “What’s the problem, James?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. You would only call him James when you were really mad at him.

“Did he? Kiss you?” He asked.

“What if he had?” You asked.

“Did he?”

You looked at him in the eye, feeling yourself getting angrier by the second. All you wanted was to scream in his face how much you loved him, that he was the only one you wanted to kiss, that you had spent the whole fucking night thinking about him and talking about him to someone else. Instead, you shook your head and sat down on your bed to take off your heels. Your feet were killing you.

“You haven’t replied”, he said.

“Neither have you”, you said.

“I asked first”, he shrugged. Without even thinking about it, you threw one of your shoes at him. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” You asked getting up, now barefoot. “What’s your problem? Why can’t you just be clear? Just say what the fuck you’re thinking instead of being a jerk!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he said, looking away from you. Narrowing your eyes, you took a step closer.

“Do you love me?” You finally asked.

“You know I do”, he said, his heart beating faster.

“Don’t bullshit me, James. You know what I mean”, you said. “Are you in love with me?”

Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes, not answering your question. The words were burning in his throat, and yet he couldn’t say them out loud.

“Fucking hell, Bucky!” You almost yelled, pushing him away. “Can’t you even talk? Just say no, for fuck’s sake! I can take it, you know? It’s not that hard to be honest for once in your fucking life. If you’re not in love in with me, if you don’t love me, just leave me be! Stop being an asshole and let me kiss and like whoever I want!”

“I can’t”, he said.

“You can’t what? Stop being an asshole? I noticed, thank you”, you said.

“I can’t just leave you be!” He exclaimed, looking at you. “Because it kills me, okay? I’d rather go through a thousand battles and getting a billion injuries, traumas and brainwashes before seeing you with someone else, okay?”

You looked at each other in the loudest silence you had ever experienced.

“You…” he sighed. “You are everything to me, don’t you see? I’ve been miserable for the whole week and the only way I know how to handle it is being an asshole. And maybe I’m late, maybe I should’ve spoken sooner, maybe I should’ve gone across the room and kiss you in front of everyone, but I am here now and I’m saying it now.” He placed his hands on your cheeks. “I love you, (Y/N). I am in love with you. Hopelessly. I love you so much it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

“And you have to be a jerk to show it? Couldn’t you just kiss me and get it over with?” You mumbled, looking into his blue eyes with tears in your eyes.

“You were kind of busy all night”, he said. “I’m a jerk, but I’m a polite jerk.”

You laughed a little and moved your hands to his chest, wondering if what he was saying was real and if it was just another one of your dreams.

“You could kiss me now”, you shrugged.

Bucky smiled a little and you bit your lip when he leaned over slightly, taking in your whole face before closing his eyes. Immediately, you felt his lips on yours and your mouth opened to receive him as he pulled you closer. The whole world around you disappeared and all you could feel and smell was Bucky. Nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry it took me so long”, he whispered when you pulled away.

“You’re forgiven”, you smiled a little and rubbed his cheek. “By the way… he didn’t kiss me”, you said.

“Really?” He asked, sounding really surprised.

“Yeah”, you laughed. “We were just talking about you, to be honest”, you admitted.

“Wow…you really missed the chance of making out with your crush for me…” he teased. “You must really love me, huh?”

“Shut up”, you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. And, for once, Bucky was happy to oblige.

[cosmicjoke]

Ugh, effing GOD, I swear with each chapter, my hatred for Zeke grows more and more.  I’m up to 119, and the entire sequence with Falco and Colt was just... sickening.  Zeke’s really trying to act like it’s such a burden to him, to have to turn Falco into a Titan and kill Colt in the process.  It’s absolutely appalling, the way Colt pleads with Zeke to just wait until Falco is out of range before he screams, not even asking him to give up on whatever his plan is, but just asking him to wait, reminding him of the entire reason Colt agreed to inherit the Beast Titan in the first place, because he wanted to protect his family, and still, STILL, Zeke is unmoved.  But the most disgusting thing, I think, is how Zeke says to Colt, “You care for your little brother.  As do I.  So it is truly a shame.”  Alright, back up just a second here.  You know what this is?  It’s called hypocrisy folks.  This is, once again, Zeke absolving himself of his crimes by framing them as mercy.  This is, once again, Zeke installing himself as a martyr, taking on the burden of hard and painful decisions to do what’s “right”, because, you see, he’s really a hero, just doing what needs to be done to save humanity.  So even though it might seem heartless and cruel and mercenary for him to turn on all of his comrades and use them without hesitation against their wills, murder them all and leave them psychologically damaged for life, no, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong!  Zeke is doing this out of compassion!  Out of love, and care, and mercy!  See, he cares about Falco JUST AS MUCH as Colt, and he really is so sad about having to then turn Falco into a fucking Titan so he can sick him on Reiner, really very upset about literally using him as a tool to achieve his goal of him and Eren touching.  And see, because Zeke tells us he cares about Falco, we’re supposed to believe it.  And we’re supposed to believe that it’s really Zeke who’s the one actually suffering here, by having to hurt the ones he supposedly loves and cares for.  By having to kill people who trusted him and believed in him to the very end, and still, despite everything, cared for him, enough so to try and talk with him and show compassion towards him.  Because it’s all for the “greater good”.  And what is that greater good?  Oh, the euthanization of an entire race of people, that’s all!  Making sure no one can ever reproduce again so that an entire race of human beings goes literally extinct.  Deciding that the lives of entire, unborn generations are so worthless, that he should get to prevent them from even taking place.  That’s Zeke’s greater good.  Zeke is the heroic one, because he’s willing to take on the burden of this pain all by himself, the burden of stabbing every person who ever cared about him in the back, and doesn’t that just make him so special.  See, by MAKING people suffer, that’s how Zeke is going to save them from suffering!  What a genius!  What a noble, good, and kind man!  This is how he frames it.  This is how he sees himself.  He won’t just own up to the things he’s doing.  He won’t admit that they’re terrible, or define what he’s doing for what it actually is, won’t own any of it.  He redefines it all as some noble and heroic deed, frames it all as his noble and selfless sacrifice, his great gift to mankind, his generosity and kindness.  I guess him getting off on crushing people beneath boulders is just a manifestation of that kindness, huh?

Alright, I think I’m gonna puke.

This mother fucker.  

Guess what?  Actions speak louder than words.  And all of Zeke’s sad frowny faces aren’t going to convince me for a second that this bitch actually cares at all, about anyone, or anything.  He’s so completely delusional, that he’s convinced himself of his own line of bullshit, that by murdering people, he’s saving them from suffering.  That he’s saving people from suffering by robbing them of their agency, their future, their lives.  And that he doesn’t actually have anything to be sorry for, because what he’s doing is mercy, and he’s the hero, because he’s the only one who can do what it takes by betraying everyone who ever gave a shit about him and believed in him.  Colt says to Zeke that “The Zeke I know would never bring children into this.”, and that reveals everything, doesn’t it?  Because, see, Zeke’s ALREADY brought children into this.  He already got two of the three warrior candidates killed in Liberio, could have and even intended to kill Gabi and Colt too, in the process, would have killed Falco, if Eren hadn’t kept him with him and Reiner in that basement.  He’s already gotten children into this by deciding that he was going to rob every future child of even being born.  

The Zeke Colt knew, the Zeke Colt BELIEVED in, was a lie, and always was a lie.  He really thought, by reminding Zeke of their connection, reminding him of why he became a Warrior in the first place, reminded him of the bond they all shared, that Zeke would realize what he was doing, remember how much he cared about all of them, and stop.  But Zeke didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate, or consider for a moment what Colt was saying or asking, because the truth about Zeke is that he’s never connected with another, single human being in his life.  He’s a severe sociopath, who feels nothing for anyone.  He just said “Oh, what a shame.”  and then turned Falco into a Titan and killed Colt on the spot.  He took the information Colt willingly shared with him about Falco ingesting his spinal fluid, and USED IT, intentionally turning Falco into a Titan then and there because he knew it would be advantageous in getting Eren to make contact with him.   It’s Zeke saying “Then it is truly a shame.” that makes me sickest of all, because once again we have Zeke acting at regret, pretending he’s sad and hurting over having to kill two children, like it’s such a burden to him to have had to do something so awful.  If you ever needed proof of Zeke’s egotism, of his utterly self-centered world view, well, here it is.  It’s his own pain that matters in this scenario, see, his own sacrifice.  It’s too bad about Falco and Colt, but I’m the one who’s truly suffering.  Fuuuuuuuck yoooooouuu Zeke.  

Zeke does this shit again and again.  He did it during the battle of Shinganshina, when he killed countless soldiers, swinging wildly between uncontrollable rage and glee as he treated killing them like a game of baseball, literally using them as scapegoats for his anger at his father, to spouting off about how “sorry” he felt for the very people he was murdering, about how pitiful and sad their lives were, and how he was truly doing this for their own good, if only their little minds could comprehend his grand, genius vision.  Oh, poor Zeke, how awful the burden of uniqueness must be, to forever be so misunderstood.  Boo fucking hoo.  He did it again in the forest with Levi, after turning 30 soldiers into Titans and musing to himself about how deeply he regretted having to do it, how he didn’t want to, but how he had no choice, because Levi could “never understand” him, while in the next breath mocking them and Levi, bragging about how there wasn’t even a fight, laughing about it and weaponizing it in an attempt to hurt Levi even further.  And he does it again here, claiming he cares about Falco, and then turning him into a Titan and using him as a tool.  This guy is the biggest, most shameless hypocrite in the history of ever.  Everything, and I mean everything out of his mouth is a lie and a manipulation.  Doubletalk and deflection and delusion.  He doesn’t mean anything he says, other then his obvious, deluded belief in himself as some kind of uniquely special hero who’s going to save the world through his brilliant understanding of all it’s problems.  Even if he has to create those problems himself, apparently.  

I just can’t with this guy.  I can’t.  His sense of self-aggrandizement, delusions of grandeur and self-centered egotism, coupled with the obvious pleasure he takes in hurting others, makes him a rank piece of trash.  I don’t care what anyone says.  That’s what he is.

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 35: Oops! All Supports Volume #5

Time for one last chunk of Supports with the old Hoshidans before we get a bunch of new ones.

Support: Corrin/Saizo 

C: Saizo spies on Corrin because she's a royal from the country they're at war with.

B: Corrin, exhausted from looking over her back to check for Saizo, has trouble moving boxes. Saizo sneaks up and carries the boxes for her, because he's honorable.

A: Corrin gives Saizo candy, which he despises. Saizo tells her that he's done spying on her, because she's so fucking stupid that she couldn't possibly be scheming anything. Corrin decides that the two of them are friends, much to Saizo's chagrin.

S: Saizo says he fell in love with Corrin while stalking her.

Review: Overall, pretty decent. Saizo stalking Corrin and Corrin just shouting at him to get him to come out is fun.

Support: Kaze/Sakura

C: Kaze finds Sakura crying because she lost her doll. Sakura is embarrassed, but Kaze understands that it's important to her and helps her look.

B: Kaze helps Sakura find her doll, which was taken to a shop for repairs by Subaki. Sakura pretends she doesn't sleep with the doll.

A: Sakura shows Kaze all of her dolls, one for each of her siblings.

S: Sakura asks Kaze to see her as a woman, not a child, because she's an adult with a woman's feelings. Something contradicted by the rest of this Support.

Review: This one is cute. Sakura acts like a kid and Kaze is nice to her, treating her lost doll as serious. I’d really like this one, if it didn’t remind me that Sakura is a child soldier who marries much older men.

Support: Jakob/Setsuna

C: Setsuna falls into a pit. Jakob sarcastically asks Setsuna if she's having fun, which tricks her into wanting to stay in the pit.

B: Setsuna falls into another pit. Jakob makes fun of her.

A: Jakob falls into a trap himself and begs Setsuna for help; Setsuna tries to help him out but falls in too.

S: Jakob decides to babysit Setsuna to keep her from falling into pits, an excuse to spend more time with her. The two of them get married.

Review: As I’ve stated previously, Jakob and Setsuna are my favorite characters. Jakob’s dry snark pairs nicely with Setsuna’s stupidity. My only complaint is that it isn’t quite as funny as I hoped and Jakob is a bit of a dick.

Support: Azura/Hayato

C: Hayato asks Azura to tell him about all the places she's seen while traveling the world. She says no and Hayato monologues that she's hiding something.

B: Azura apologizes for being closed off, explaining that her childhood wasn't very happy. With a little more prodding, she describes several beautiful things she saw as a kid.

A: Azura describes more places and thanks Hayato for helping her remember the good times in her past.

S: Hayato proposes to Azura, saying they can visit all of those nice places together. Azura says turns him down and says she'd rather just be friends. Despite this, the two get married and have a kid immediately after this scene.

Review: Not bad, although it does raise one question: how much traveling did Azura do before her mother and her arrived in Nohr? I assumed it wasn’t too much travel, and that it happened when she was very young, but apparently not. I suppose she could be talking about traveling done later, but she was mostly confined to the castle in both of her later homes.

Support: Felicia/Ryoma

C: Felicia, wanting to be friends with Ryoma for Corrin's sake, makes Ryoma rice balls. They contain dark chocolate, which makes Ryoma gag.

B: Felicia tries again, this time filling them with massive lumps of salt.

A: Felicia, on Ryoma's suggestion, makes a Nohrian dish: sandwiches. As a child who watched Pokemon as a kid, this confuses me, because I thought sandwiches and riceballs were the same thing. Surprisingly, the sandwich is good.

S: Felicia and Ryoma eat together, her making sandwiches and him rice balls. Ryoma proposes because Felicia is cute.

Review: A simple, but cute Support.

Support: Oboro/Silas

C: Silas tries to befriend Oboro, but she turns him away because she despises Nohrians to the point of wanting to kill Silas for just existing.

B: Silas, after finding out about Oboro's parents, apologizes to her. She threatened to commit a hate crime, so I think she should be the one apologizing, but whatever. Oboro says she's cool with Silas now apparently because they fought together. Silas tells her that lots of Nohrians are good people, which Oboro kinda accepts but not really.

A: After Silas saves a Hoshidan village from Nohrian bandits off-screen, Oboro asks him if he only did it to prove his loyalty. Silas explains that he's a decent goddamn person, in less harsh words.

S: Oboro apologizes for being awful. Silas proposes and Oboro accepts.

Review: Yeah, this one isn’t great. Oboro is at her most awful here, and the game really doesn’t treat her harshly for that, with Silas treating her as just being misguided. Like, Oboro flat out says she wants to murder Silas for his race and he just shrugs it off. Oboro is a shitty person. And this problem is compounded by the fact that Nohr is constantly played as cartoonishly evil and Hoshido as unquestionably good, meaning that Oboro’s bullshit is somewhat justified by the narrative.

Support: Hinata/Mozu

C: Hinata, scammed by a pretty shopkeeper, pays way too much for supplies. Mozu explains that he needs to haggle.

B: Mozu teaches Hinata to haggle by figuring out people’s personalities.

A: Hinata says that haggling is like fighting.

S: Hinata asks Mozu out because she taught him to look at people differently.

Review: Not bad.

Support: Hana/Takumi

C: Takumi finds Hana training early in the morning. Hana suggests they train together, like they did when they were younger, and Takumi runs away.

B: Takumi reveals he stopped training with Hana after she kicked his ass in front of Sakura. He claims that it was because he held back to avoid beating up his sister's best friend, but I prefer the idea that Takumi got beat up by a child then ran away and never fought her again.

A: Hana swears that she'll protect Takumi to restore her honor. Takumi tells her to focus on protecting Sakura, because Hana really cares about her.

S: Hana reports in everytime she defends Sakura as an excuse to talk to Takumi. Takumi says he likes her too.

Review: A fairly bland Support, all things considered. The stuff about Hana wanting to protect Sakura is fine, but other than that it's fairly mediocre.

Support: Azama/Kagero

C: Azama asks about Kagero's clothing. Kagero tells Azama to fuck off.

B: Azama tries talking to Kagero. She puts a knife to his throat and tells him to never talk to her again.

A: Kagero says she should probably do research into ninja clothes.

S: Kagero explains that ninja clothes are good for stealth. Azama says he likes her.

Review: This one went from zero to one hundred really fast. And I’d call Kagero out for being insanely violent when Azama did nothing to her, but I’ve read his other Supports. Threatening to kill him if he talks to you is completely reasonable. Still, this one completely fails to be a romantic Support line.

Support: Ryoma/Silas

C: Ryoma asks about Corrin's childhood in Nohr. Silas explains that they played together as kids. Ryoma tells Silas to stay with Corrin, because it's important for her to have friends.

B: Silas confides that he was a lonely, isolated child before meeting Corrin. Ryoma and Silas bond over their mutual love of Corrin.

A: Silas swears a blood oath out of their respect for each other.

Review: Not bad. I especially like that this is the only Silas Support thus far to actually give a good reason for Silas’s loyalty. Him being a lonely kid with Corrin as his only friend is a great bit of characterization that should have been mentioned in their Support.

[yodawgiherd]

Rome pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<< 

Rating: M

Setting: Historical Rome

Second part of the Rome AU =) Stay cool.

The sun was hot, but Eren was used to that. Under the protection of the villa’s roof, the heat was not even that bad, other things irritated him way more. If he were to name one that pissed him off the most at this very moment, it was sitting right next to him. His father, Grisha, half-drunk as usual, yammering on.

“As I was saying,”, he continued whatever train of thought went on in his head, “If they increase the taxes again, I’d have to sell some of my farms.”

Money, yes. That was the one thing that concerned him. At least Eren was not the target of his father’s speech this time, it was old man Reiss, sitting across the table and somehow paying attention.

“We should put some pressure on the senate,”, Reiss said, “They can’t keep pushing at us forever.”

His father nodded at that.

“Power to the people! That’s right! We should…”

Turning off his brain, Eren filtered out his father’s voice, a skill he was proficient in, eyes searching for the last occupant of the table. The blonde girl, Reiss’s daughter and heir, Historia. One of his closest friends, and by the will of both their fathers, his future wife. No, he did not have a say in this, and neither did she.

Kicking her lightly under the table, he made her look up, doing a grimace afterwards to express just how boring the money-talk was. She hid her smile under her palm and kicked him back, much stronger. Eren couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Historia was great, really fun and everything, but there was a little problem neither his nor her father knew that would complicate their upcoming marriage. Eren himself discovered it by accident and had sworn not to tell anyone. As they still had time before being seriously pressed into tying the knot, they decided to just wait it out for now. There was time for everything.

His father finished another long monologue, draining his wine cup afterwards and reaching out. A slave immediately jumped in and refilled it, which made Eren’s stomach churn. He hated slaves. No, that came out wrong. He didn’t hate the people themselves, he hated the system of slavery altogether. Their family, as a rich patrician one, understandably had plenty of slaves, and it was a topic of many arguments between Eren and his parents. Even as a child Eren never understood why it is okay for a human being to be owned by another one, just because one was born wrong, conquered, or in debt. His father originally dismissed all that talk as a child’s words, but as Eren grew, so did his hatred for slavery. The idea of not being free just because someone decided it is that way upset him to no end. But he was not the head of the house, that was his father, so technically he could not do anything. He was not even the heir to their villa, that was his half-brother Zeke, currently a Tribuni in the Roman legions, winning fame for himself on the frontlines.

A sudden burst of laughter got his attention, as both Grisha and Reiss laughed out loud, with Historia having a tight-lipped courteous smile herself. She was very good at pretending that she is interested in whatever bullshit the two of them were talking about.

“I do understand that,” Reiss was just saying, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “When Historia was a child, she brought home a homeless orphan and wouldn’t stop crying until I gave her a place in my household. Now, what is her name….”

“Ymir, father.”, his daughter quickly offered, “She is my best friend.”

“I do not believe in associating with the lower classes myself.”, Grisha said, “Eren also had a small episode when he tried befriending some slave girl, but I quickly got him out of that.”

Oh yes, that was a great memory. Even now, years later, Eren remembered coming home and telling his mother all excitedly about this nice girl with strange eyes that he met, and that he gave her his candy. He remembered being all giddy when he asked if he could go and see her again tomorrow, perhaps bring her some more candy, so that she would tell him her name. And most of all, he remembered the pained expression that his mother had during that talk because unlike Eren in his childlike ignorance, she knew very well what Grisha’s reaction will be once he finds out.

“It was not easy,”, his father was just saying, “But a highborn must know who to make friends with, and it is not slaves.”

He turned towards his son.

“Tell us Eren, how did I stop you from seeing that slave girl again?”

As if he could ever forget.

“You threatened that if I ever went to visit her, you would buy her yourself and then have our house guards drown her in the Tiber.”, meeting his father’s eyes, it took everything Eren had to keep his voice calm, “And I would have to watch it all.”

“Exactly. And even with all the crying and locking yourself in your room, you obeyed in the end.”, looking back at Reiss, his father continued, “Principles must be taught to the youngsters, otherwise they would just get out of control.”

Sometimes, at nights especially, Eren wondered how that girl was doing, if she was even alive. Being a slave in Rome, mortality rates were high. Back then, she was working in a brothel, so was she a prostitute now? Did he maybe see her sometime when he was out drinking with his friends? Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? No, he had to stop himself. This train of thought always made him angry, because it only reminded Eren of what his father robbed him. Maybe he could have had a best friend in that girl, just like Historia had in Ymir. Instead, he would never see her again.

Standing up abruptly, the eyes of everyone present swung at him.

“May I be excused, father?”, seeing the hint of irritation in Grisha’s eyes, he scrambled for an excuse, “I would like to take a walk with my lovely fiancé.”

That worked, so after being officially allowed to leave, he and Historia disappeared behind a corner where they shared a long exhale.

“God that was boring.”, Eren said, rubbing his forehead.

“You tell me. I almost fell asleep.”, she sighed, “I wanna do something fun.”

Now that was a language Eren spoke well.

“I’m in. Let’s grab some friends and live it up! Where did you leave Ymir?”

“I think she’s in a pub here somewhere, not far.”, Historia grinned, “Not like Ymir will be hard to find.”

Eren mirrored her smile, remembering just how loud the tall girl could be.

“You’re right. Let’s go then.”

Two of the taverns they checked lacked the Ymir factor, but the third one looked promising. Right from outside, they could hear loud voices, and when they entered their suspicion was proven right.

“I’m just saying,”, Ymir shouted over the ruckus, “You would look great at the chariot races!”

“I don’t think I’m good enough driver to…”

“Wait, who said anything about the driver? You would be pulling the chariot!”

The table erupted into laughter, while Jean, the butt of this joke, mumbled something and hid his reddened face into a cup of wine.

“That joke is so old…”, he sighed, but no one listened.

Ymir was the first one who spotted them, bolting from her seat and sweeping Historia in a hug.

“You’re finally here! We all missed you so much!”

When there was not any response from the table, Ymir turned towards it with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

“I said, we all missed you. Right?”

This time there were affirmative sounds from everyone. Nobody wanted to get on Ymir’s bad side.

Scooting over to make room for the newcomers, they ordered another round and the conversation flowed. Ymir wanted to know what their fathers were talking about, but Historia simply waved her hand and claimed that it was the usual boring stuff. While she was talking, Eren looked around, taking in this group of friends. He and Historia were the only highborn here, the rest of them were plebians. His father would never allow him to hang out with slaves, but he gritted his teeth and stayed silent while Eren surrounded himself with the lower class. It was a small victory, but Eren also genuinely found them much more interesting than any of the patricians. Now that he had the time to take everyone in, he noticed that one person was missing, so turning to Jean, he asked.

“Hey, where’s Armin?”

“Working tonight.”, his friend replied, trying to take another sip of the wine but realizing that his cup was empty. The discovery made him frown.

Armin was an interesting fellow. Part-philosopher, part-medic, he made his living by treating the filth of Rome. Slaves, lowborn, all these that would get rejected by any respected doctor flocked to Armin and he helped them all, whenever they had the money to pay for their treatment or not. In all honesty, Eren thought that Armin was probably the best person he knew, far nobler than him. The art his friend practiced, medicine, also highly interested him, but as with most things in life, Eren didn’t get a choice in his future career path. His brother was a soldier, so he was going to be a politician, Grisha decided. Easy as that. Which meant that Eren’s medicine studied were limited to the times when he visited Armin, trying to learn as much as he could form his friend.

“Do you know where he is?”, Eren pressed on, getting Jean’s attention, that was still focused on his somehow magically empty cup, back.

“It’s Uuuhh…. Hmmm….”

Eren had to suppress a sigh here.

“Come on Jean…”

“Oh right! He’s down in the pits tonight, treating the gladiators that get gutted there.”

The pits were a chain of tiny arenas where slaves, madmen and animals were pitched to fight each other to the death for the entertainment of the unwashed masses. It was like the Colosseum, only a hundred times smaller. Armin often worked there, as even the victors of these matches hardly ever escaped unscratched. The losers usually didn’t need medical attention anymore.

“You’re right, the pits could be fun!”, Jean went on, standing up and swaying only lightly, “Gang, let’s see some blood!”

As nobody wanted to be called a wuss for chickening out, they left the tavern in a sound of chairs dragged over the ground and the clink of coins, heading through the streets towards the pits. Jean led the way, as even drunk he could navigate the gutters the best out of them all. Eren fell in next to Ymir and Krista, the two of them inseparable as usual.

“I do hope that you are taking good care of my fiancé.”, he said to Ymir.

She turned to him with a wink, dropping her hand low and possessively squeezing the blonde’s butt, making her jump with a squeal and quickly retaliate with a well-aimed punch at the taller girl’s shoulder. This was the small secret that he and Historia had from their parents, who were so sure about their future marriage. Historia was, unluckily for her father, mostly interested in women, a fact that was rare but not unheard of. The problem was that while her family might not have that big of a problem with her orientation as it was, they would require her to have an heir. She was, after all, the only living offspring Reiss had. But that was a hurdle she and Eren would cross once they got there, and it was not here. Yet.

While they were consumed by this petty bickering, back and forth, Jean reliably led them through the labyrinth of Rome, finding his way with ease. Left here, right there, turn that corner and they were approaching their target, easily heard from the excited shouts that were up in the air.

With an excited shout, Ymir broke through the group, dragging helpless Historia with her, disappearing between the spectators. The rest followed soon after, their own excitement in various degrees. Eren himself had mixed feelings. He did not mind the duels, per se, but it was another business that was partly made up of slaves being forced to participate. The thing was in full swing, meaning that seeking out Armin right now was most likely impossible. He would be running between here and there, hands full of dead and injured, and hardly needed Eren to make his job even harder. With nothing better to do, he elbowed his way towards the edge of the ring, joining Jean at the railing.

“Hey.”, an unknown voice to his left, “You wanna bet?”

Turning, Eren saw a scrawny man with parchment and several purses hanging from his belt. A bookmaker. Before he could tell him that no, he does not want to place money on the lives of people, Jean butted in.

“Sure!”, he pushed past Eren, smelling of wine and sweat, “Who’s fighting?”

“The next bout is…” the bookie blinked at the parchment a few times, “Siren versus Cyclops.”

“Siren?”, Jean snorted, “Who the fuck takes such a name?”

It wasn’t unusual for the gladiators to have a nickname, some ancient beast or hero. But Siren was not a monster known for its martial prowess, so Eren had to agree with Jean here. It was rather strange.

“Oh, she didn’t choose this one, it was given to her.”, the bookie quickly supplied.

“So you… Wait a second.”, even with his wine-addled brain, Jean caught up on the unusuality, “She? Her? This fighter is a…”

“Woman.”, the bookie nodded, “But she is not to be underestimated.”

Laughing, Jean pulled out a few coins and handed them over to the bookmaker.

“Sorry, but I’m tight on the money now, so I’ll be taking the sure way. My coins are on the Cyclops.”, turning towards Eren, he nudged him, “What about you? Don’t want to make some easy denars?”

Maybe it was the old habit of disagreeing with Jean on almost everything, maybe it was something else, but Eren reached into his own purse, pulling out a generous number and putting them into the bookie’s eager hands.

“My money is on the Siren.”, he announced, making Jean’s grin widen.

“Dude, woman gladiators are a joke, don’t you realize that?”

Seeing that Eren was not changing his mind, Jean shrugged.

“Guess you don’t mind losing those then.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”, Eren answered, turning back towards the arena. Just in time too, as the combatants were being ushered in.

First in was the Cyclops, large and imposing scarred man, armed with a net and a trident. Raising those weapons, he was greeted by booming shouts coming from all sides, probably a fan favorite. Then the challenger appeared. The woman was lightly armored, most likely relying on speed over brute strength. She was armed with a short sword and a dagger, holding these with an experienced grip. The full helmet on her face prevented Eren from seeing her face, but her body was lithe and crossed with several prominent scars, marked just as her opponent was. She didn’t generate nearly as much hype as he, and there were several laughs heard from the audience. Eren and Ymir were probably the loudest supporters, cheering her on. Cheers or laughter, Siren didn’t seem to care either way, completely ignoring the crowd and keeping her gaze on the opponent.

Once the signal was given, Cyclops was the first to move, poking at his enemy with the trident, abusing the reach he had over her closer ranged blades. But Siren was too fast, easily dodging and batting aside the strikes, moving between them, fluid like water. A few minutes into this dance, the crowd was getting bored, and demands for more action were thrown into the ring. If there was no blood, there was no fun. While Siren ignored those, just as before, Cyclops obeyed, abandoning this safe approach. He stopped using the net as a shield and utilized it as a weapon instead, swiping at his opponent. It was easy to get tangled in it, and once Siren would be caught, a single trident stab would end her. The problem was, she did not get caught. Turning on the aggressive mode, she weaved in between his attempts, slashing at him. Not drawn too close, Siren’s attacks were shallow, more like scratches, but they still hurt and the blood that colored the sands was a proof of it. Cyclops was getting desperate, None of his attacks connected, it looked like he was striking a ghost. The metallic teeth of his trident were always late, the net too slow and clumsy to capture someone as elusive as her. Overwhelmed, Cyclops screamed in defiance before betting it all on a single last thrust, putting all of his might behind it. And for the first time, he aimed true. The spikes of his trident hit Siren in the hip, leaving behind three identical red paths, dripping blood. Unluckily, this also put him directly in her face with nothing to block. Cyclops had about two seconds to celebrate his luck when a short sword was slammed right into his throat, toppling the large man over. Stunned silence followed.

First one to wake was Ymir, shouting her support even louder. She laughed, hugging Historia while her eyes quickly found the bookie, gesturing for him to come closer. Jean on the other hand let out a tired “Fuck me.”, before dropping his head to his hands. Siren herself took a step back, cleaning her blades on the dead man’s body. Hooking a hand under her helmet, she pulled it off, shaking her hair free and revealing her exotic visage. The way the sun glistened on those midnight strands prompted another comment from Jean, who stirred from his defeated slump.

“Damn, would you look at that.”, he said, half-turning towards Eren, “Now it’s easy to see why they call her Siren.”

The girl was indeed alluring, just like the mythical creature, even with her face twisted into a dark grin. Making a very rude gesture towards the crowd that doubted her, she reserved a single wave for Ymir, her loudest supporter, before turning away and ducking into the old door that led into the bowels of the pits. Free from her spell, now that she was gone, Jean moved his attention to Eren, now fully.

“Well, there goes my savings. Say, my good friend, now that you won, would you lend me some coins? It’s not like need them anyway, right? Eren? Eren!?”

But the lucky bet winner did not hear any of that. He was staring at the door where Siren disappeared, completely obvious to his surroundings. Why? Because he knew that face. He knew those almond-shaped grey eyes, albeit now they were much wilder than before. He knew that dark hair, now chopped short, not nearly as long as it was before.

He knew who Siren was.

[iwrestlenow]

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 14)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: A gift from the past secures the future. Knowledge is our greatest defense.

Or, this time, Logan means it when he says he'll never let go.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of violence and death related grossness (i.e., decomposition and fantasy derived nastiness)

There's an epilogue after this, so sorry it's kinda short--and I'm not kidding, guys, shippy bullshit to follow for the next 739 years.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1023, A.A.

Thomas felt a little bit like he was going insane.

Venturing through the deepest of the forgotten sewer tunnels beneath the palace, he shut his eyes and thought of Nico—his unruly curls, his too wide smile, his infectious laughter.

It wasn't his imagination—he heard it echo, somewhere worlds away, bright as the sun.

The grief knotted tight in his chest for an instant before it began to loosen again, bleeding comfort into the raw places in his heart.

They keep the Vigil. He reminded himself. Outlaw wouldn't lie to you.

Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace.

Once he reached it—a break in the tunnel, where the unfinished pipe sharply cut off into stone and earth, Thomas knelt before the spot where he'd buried the parcel that Outlaw—Josiah Crofter—sent him.

A simple wooden box containing a vial of ashes and a single thread.

“You know what the Vigil is: our funeral rite, our means of keeping the dead alive in the worlds beyond. The Necromata got no souls, so memory's all we have. So we lay their body to rest, and the memories...trinkets, letters, clothing...we give to the funeral pyre. One that never ceases burning.”

Reaching into his belt, Thomas pulled out a dagger.

“When the fire dies, ashes are collected from the freshest embers and kept—and every year, they are added to a fresh pyre. Ashes are collected. The cycle repeats. The fire always burns...so long as the Necromata hold the flint and steel, the Vigil will continue.”

Gritting his teeth, Thomas lay the dagger against his palm, took a breath—and drew the blade against his skin with firm, even pressure.

“But the power of the Vigil is stronger than that. A secret, long kept by our people...that the Vigil don't just safeguard life after death.”

The skin yielded beneath the blade, weeping a garish line of crimson.

“It can safeguard life itself.”

Thomas bit his lip at the sting, but made a fist over the little mound of earth before him.

“The vial I gave you—the embers of your beloved's Vigil, a single thread from the handkerchief you gave me, stained with his blood. Buried 'neath your palace, you join us in the Vigil's keep...offer it blood and a blessing, and the Sacred Souls will let your beloved keep yours in turn.”

He watched his blood hit the dirt, little drops of red catching kernels of earth on their surface.

“The living remember the dead to keep them alive...so it goes when the dead remember the living.”

“For our sons, my love.” Thomas whispered. “For them, and them alone, keep my Vigil.”

The drops of blood sank into the earth so abruptly it startled him.

He heard his husband's laughter again—barely an echo, worlds away.

Even as his tears began to fall, Thomas felt himself smile.

********** 1033, A.A.

THOMAS.

It didn't feel like coming back to life—it felt like remembering.

The heartbeat that eluded his thoughts, the breath that danced on the edge of his consciousness, thoughts and reason and existence that lay just on the tip of his tongue.

A body to live, of course, how had he forgotten? Eyes to open...yes, certainly...

...well, that was a little bit harder. Something was wrong, terribly wrong...

That was when Thomas realized that his body hurt—everything hurt.

“...I may be mortal, but I am still a Weaver...with power over life and death.”

Somehow, over the sudden din, Thomas heard the choked sound of someone unable to breathe. It was a sound he vaguely recognized—a sound that chilled his blood, which already felt strange moving through his veins...chill, sluggish...

THOMAS.

...Nico?...

FOR OUR SON...KEEP THE VIGIL.

Thomas finally managed to open his eyes, head slowly rolling to the side.

The first thing he saw was the door of his bedchamber shattering. A hound swiftly followed, a massive creature with glowing blue eyes that made a beeline for one of the royal guard. Half paralyzed, half fascinated, he watched the animal's jaws close around the guard's throat and his head shake, tearing flesh...

Ichor, black and nauseating, spurted from the guard's throat instead of blood.

On the animal's heels came...yes, that was a heart healer, picking through the splintered wood with a look of horror on his face. A mage came to his side, a prison mage from the look of his robes.

He heard swords clashing—a gleeful cry of triumph. Oh, Remus, his beloved slice of chaos personified...

If Remus could bellow like that, however, he could breathe.

Thomas's eyes finally found the middle of the room—a chair, Roman's body slumped in unconsciousness.

THOMAS.

“I know.” Thomas croaked, struggling to sit up. Every one of his joints felt stiff and brittle, his throat sandpaper rasping one face to another.

Still, he got to his feet. Still, he stumbled over to where Roman sat, reaching out a too thin, too gnarled hand to pat his cheek.

“Ro...Ro...Ro—damn it. Roman!”

Roman stirred, his eyes slowly blinking open with a moan.

“...not...Ro...Roman...”

“What? I don't understand...”

Roman's head lolled to one side, his features paling. Thomas followed his gaze...

He knew the soldier—Colonel Mori, the man he'd barred from that young necromancer's presence once he'd realized what had been done to the poor child.

A poor child sprawled on his back—and Thomas couldn't be sure how, but he knew, he felt it in that place within his chest that tingled when Remus learned a new way to blow something up. He knew it in that place behind his brain that lit up when Roman was about to burst into his chambers with some new poem or story.

The part of him branded father strained towards whatever it was within Roman that was branded son, and Thomas knew it was in the wrong body.

“Rest.” he reassured the boy in Roman's body, patting his shoulder. “I'll be back in a moment.”

Straightening, his limbs grew looser as anger swelled in his chest...no, rage.

Rage for the young life that had been stolen. Rage for his son, who lay dying on the ground—rage for a man that he hated for what he'd done to someone Thomas respected and trusted.

Rage, even, for his broken bedchamber door, and the bodies falling all around the room. Rage filled him, revitalized him, resurrected him from the last dying embers of the grave.

Walking up behind an unsuspecting Mori, Thomas reached out and, without a single shred of regret, grabbed the man from behind to pull him close.

“I should have let the executioner do this ten years ago.” he spat in Mori's ear before he gripped his chin in one hand, secured the other at the right angle, and wrenched with a cry of fury that only died when he heard the satisfying snap of bone and sinew.

He swore, as Mori fell, that he could hear another voice alongside his—no longer worlds away, but so close he could nearly smell the bright citrus of his favorite cologne.

“I'm sorry, my love—but today is not our day.” Thomas couldn't stop himself from whispering. “Wait for me?”

Nico's laughter rang right in his ear, clear and true, before it receded back into the worlds beyond the reach of the living once again.

Roman.

Remembering in the absence of two men's anger, Thomas fell to his knees. The body before him was too still, the eyes glassy and distant.

“Roman...Roman, please!...”

“Your Majesty.”

Thomas turned sharply. At some point, the din had died and silence fell heavy over the room. A young cadet knelt beside him, blood and ichor staining his clothing and his cheek. His eyes were wide and haunted.

“No.” Thomas breathed as the cadet looked to the body on the floor and reached out to gently close its eyes. “No, no no no...”

Arms wrapped around Thomas from behind. Tears dampened his neck—blindly, shaking, Thomas reached behind him to run soothing fingers through Remus's hair.

“Logan, he—he has a Claim.” Remus stammered through deep sobs. “He—he can't be dead. Not when Logan can't...when he can't...”

Thomas didn't understand, but as he glanced towards the chair where Roman's body had been slumped, he watched Roman stand slowly, shuffling towards them, and kneel carefully on the other side of Roman's corpse.

“The Claim is bound to flesh, and it suspends when the soul leaves the body.” the necromancer in Roman's body replied—Logan, his eyes cold and hard and nothing at all like his dear, passionate son.

“He wasn't supposed to come for me.” he continued, running a hand over Roman's hair, his voice too flat, too lifeless. “I warned him...”

Logan trailed off, his eyes widening. Something dangerously like hope sparked in Thomas's chest.

Before he could even draw breath, Logan slammed a fist into the corpse's chest.

********** Knowledge.

“Logan, what the fuck?”

Knowledge is how.

Logan planted his palm in the middle of Roman's chest.

He covered his hand with his other, firmly meshed his fingers.

It is our best weapon...and our best defense.

Throwing all his weight behind it, Logan drove his hands into Roman's breastbone, establishing a steady rhythm.

“Logan, you gotta stop...”

“Virgil, move.”

Remus's voice, deafening silence. Logan kept his gaze focused on his hands in Roman's chest, tried to keep his vision clear so he could do it right.

The way Roman taught him, as his brother taught him.

“Stop.”

Remus's voice. Logan stopped.

Roman's chest barely lifted, then sank.

“Go.”

Logan resumed the compressions. A rhythm, a count...

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Stop. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Stop.

The vital breath—a means to raise the dead without magic.

The cycle continued. Logan gave up his soul with every thrust of the heel of his hand, let it fly into the ether, let it burn to nothing and filled himself instead with Remus's brisk instruction, with the drumbeat of the pulse he desperately tried to tattoo into Roman's chest--

“Logan, stop!”

Logan stopped. Someone was coughing, spasming, rolling to the side...

With an animalistic wail of agony, Logan flung himself around Roman, and followed his soul out of his body.

********** When Roman came to, he was hacking, his lungs burning, his whole body feeling...

...he lost the feeling as dizziness overcame him, and he was suddenly holding Logan instead of being held, the smaller man wracked with wheezing, desperate gasps for air. Everything still felt chaotic, off-kilter...

Chaos. The Animator.

This time, when Roman gathered him close, Logan didn't rear back. He burrowed hard into Roman's chest, shaking like a leaf, and clung so hard to Roman's shoulders he was certain there would be half moons left behind of Logan's nails on skin. Holding him tight, Roman surveyed the rest of his father's bedchamber.

There were bodies everywhere, many of them untouched. There was some blood, but most of the black stuff that filled the air with the smell of rotting death had been spilled from bodies under the Animator's control that were so long dead that their blood had turned to sludge—and now that they were inanimate again, in varying stage of decomposition as they lay, mutilated.

The only people left standing were the victors.

Emile and Remy, wrapped around each other, Emile strangely calm while Remy's solid black eyes took it all in with an equally strange, haunted expression.

Virgil and Remus, side by side, kneeling there before him. Virgil was visibly swaying, but Remus looked perfectly serene—blood and ichor dotting his face, smearing his hands, a rock in the middle of the rapids.

Janus, standing in the middle of the room, equally stained by battle and yet no less resplendent for it. By his side, still in animal form was Patton, calmly licking the blood off one massive paw. Janus had his fingers barely stroking Patton's head, and the side of his face layered with scales was spattered heavily with that same combination of red blood and black rot.

As Janus met his gaze and smiled, Roman felt certain in that moment that Janus had surrendered to Patton the human portion of his dual drake's soul.

Then there was his father, just at his elbow—somehow beautifully, miraculously, alive and watching him with a watery smile. He still looked...well, terrible, features still too thin and leathery, his pallor still that of a corpse dessicated by magic, but his eyes were open and sparkling with real, vibrant life.

“Hold on,” Roman breathed as he smiled back at his father and pulled Logan impossibly closer, “don't let go.”

Logan laughed, then hiccuped, pressing his face to Roman's neck. For the first time in ten years, Roman felt himself draw a true breath: free, clear, and clean as Logan clung to him tight and meant the words as he said them.

“I never have. I never will.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Lance was still stubbornly independent. His mood may yoyo, some days might be worse than others, but he’s stopped trying to die. He’d stopped relying on drugs and alcohol and was truly making a breakthrough with figuring out how to navigate the bonds of friendship. “I singled you out for your potential. You made a good operative in the field. I considered you a close friend, I even took pride in you achievements. Instead of accepting that I was in a committed relationship with my husband, you tormented him for phoebs. You slandered his name. You slandered the name of my brother. Finally, upon rejection, you attempted to kill us” That sounded as cold as Keith had hoped. Krystaal’s eyes narrowed, he wasn’t what bullshit rebuttal was going to come forth next “He wasn’t right for you. He’s a murderer. He murdered Klearo, after their relationship ended. I did some digging you know, this wasn’t even his first pregnancy. He used his position for the fame, then murdered the man who made him, as well as his unborn child. How could you possibly trust him with your children? You Paladins always got a free pass. How many of people have you slaughtered? How many did you slaughter in the name of justice? He’s not sound in the head. You were desperate for a friend Keith. Each time we trained together. Each time you helped me with my stances and close combat work. Each late night conversation, talking with you about whatever came to mind until the sun rose. Why couldn’t you see me, I was always right there? I was falling for you. I was falling for you and you weren’t talking about him, or you were complaining. Of course that’s going to give me hope, especially when you never stayed with him for more than a quintant or two each time you claimed you were off to be with your husband. You always came right back to us. You’re fearless. You’re reckless and brave. You care more for your team than the mission success. The look in your eyes as you line up your prey... You’re everything a Blade soldier should be... You’re like... the future... and that’s a future I want to see” With how far Krystaal had fallen, Keith had forgotten all the Lance he’d seen inside him. He’d felt like an arse when Lance had said he was the future on Bob’s game show. Hearing it from Krystaal had nowhere near the same affect, despite the sincerity of his words after ceasing his attack on Lance’s character. Well fuck. Krystaal had truly blow a gasket and lost his shit because of petty jealousy “If you... If you hated Lance so much, why did you provoke him so often? He saved all our lives and you still went after his” “I wanted to show you his true colours. That he wasn’t good enough for you. He’s sick, and there’s something wrong with him. You’ve seen it, the way he throws himself down and shakes. That’s not normal. I wanted to show you how sick he is. He was always complaining about you to all your friends. He kept crying and crying and wouldn’t shut up. He’s weak. He let a whole planet of victims die out there. He left them to die. He’s holding you back” “Shut up!” Pushing his chair back in disgust, Keith’s calm broke like a dam as he stepped away from Krystaal. Grabbing the back of the chair, the wood splintered in his grip “Lance isn’t weak. He’s never been weak. He was the one who held Voltron together. He was the one always busting his arse to make sure we were safe. One of the first things he did was take a blast to save Coran, so you didn’t get to sit there and call him weak” “He gave up on you. He told me you were dead!” “I very nearly was thanks to your actions. Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you talk to me? Why couldn’t you leave us alone when it became clear I wasn’t leaving him? I lost movements in a coma you put me in! And when we were sick, you actually helped me to see him! None of this makes sense! Lance was never your enemy, and if you think I was in love with you, it was because of how much of Lance I saw in you!” “I wanted you to like me! I worked my arse off being what you wanted from a trainee! I did everything you told me to! Why couldn’t I b

[timeisacephalopod]

Snapshot

A lil Ned/ Peter AU because these boys don’t get enough love! They’re aged up, so they’re in their twenties rather than teens, but still. Its a celeb AU also- Peter plays Spider-Man instead of being him.

“Oh my god I can’t go out there,” Ned hisses at Michelle. She looks nonplussed but she always looks like that even when there are celebrities here. Ok, there are always celebrities here but Ned doesn’t really care about most of them its just that he happens to be a huge Spider-Man nerd and Peter Parker is the best person he’s ever seen cast as the character. Toby Maguire was a travesty, and Andrew Garfield is pretty but not the perfect fit. Peter Parker though, Ned has never seen someone bring the character to life the way he does. Everything about him is absolutely perfect and now he’s sitting at a table with Tony Stark and okay this is... this...

“Ned, get your head out of your ass, he’s in your section,” Michelle tells him.

“You’ve got this!” Liz tells him over the little half wall that separates him from the kitchen area she’s in.

Yeah, he’s got this. He’s totally got this- Peter Parker is just a regular dude looking for food and Ned happens to know the food here is good. He probably eats too much of it, though to be fair he works a lot. Celebrities give good tips and he has school bills to pay for and also rent.

He starts walking over and okay never mind he does not got this he’s a lowly fat boy in school walking towards a person who plays one of the most iconic characters on television right now he is not worthy. He goes to turn around and give his table to Michelle when Peter god damn Parker notices him and smiles, waving a little excitedly and Ned has no choice now he has to go over.

“Uh, hey. I’m waiter, I’ll be your Ned this evening. I mean I’m a waiter, my name is Ned. I will be waiting. On the food. With the food, on you. Um. I’m going to shut up now,” he says, wishing he could banish himself to the shadow realm forever for that. Holy Christ he managed to embarrass the hell out of himself in less than two seconds this is the worst day of his life he hopes the earth gets hit by an astroid large enough that he’ll die long before he has to deal with poor Peter.

*

Yeah, Peter knows Ned is embarrassed but it was cute, watching him flounder a little. “Do you ever get used to that?” he asks Tony.

He shakes his head, “not really. I mean you get used to it in a way that you kind of expect it, but not in a way where you can really accept why people treat you that way. Or I didn’t, I know a lot of people who kind of let that kind of treatment go to your head and we’ve all watched what happens when child stars leave Disney. It really does fuck with people to have everyone treat you like a god only for them to turn around and get pissed off that you act like one now too.”

Shit, yeah Peter has seen that happen plenty but that’s just... not him. He grew up in Queens and didn’t even think he had a shot at landing the role of a lifetime. Hell, he would have ended up working a shitty dead end job because he couldn’t afford to go to college if not for Tony finding him at an improv group and deciding he had enough talent to fund his education. He’s always loved acting, putting on a show, and boy that has come back to bite him in the ass in really weird ways but in the end things worked out really well. Except for the part with the crazy fans, he doesn’t care for that, but that’s part of the job so.

“Hm. It wouldn’t be like... creepy to ask a fan out, right? Like because they’d be way less likely to say no to you? Would that be weird? I think that might be weird I won’t say anything,” he says, sealing his own fate.

Tony laughs, “depends on the fan and that one isn’t the type to worship you and also isn’t the type to stalk you. Keep in mind that consent goes both ways and fans are just as likely to ignore your boundaries. Maybe more, actually, since totally ignoring our privacy and personal space is considered normal and kind of encouraged. But that guy- just flustered. Probably a comic book nerd too,” he says.

If he’s a comic nerd Peter doesn’t see why he’d like Peter much. He can’t even believe the amount of blowback he got from the comic fandom over the fact that he’s trans and playing Spider-Man. Yeah, he obviously expected some blowback because that’s... well, normal not that he wants to admit that casual transphobia is alive and well. But it is, and he expected it, but the sheer amount of people that thought just that part of who he is should disqualify him from playing the character was nuts. Thankfully Peter Quill happens to be a crazy bastard and basically told everyone and their dogs to shove it because he knows what he’s doing. Which, to be fair, he does. And casting happens to be a skill he’s especially good with.

“Think you might be wrong about the comic nerd thing,” Peter says. Comic nerds are bird brains, he has decided.

“If you say so, kid,” Tony says and Peter can tell Tony thinks he’s right but he doesn’t say it.

*

Tony is trying to explain how he and Arthur Curry of all people ended up in a relationship when Ned comes back with food. Poor guy already suffered through drinks and Peter tried to talk to him to try and make him feel more comfortable but it didn’t really work. So when he comes back over Peter grins, “that smells so good,” he says and he is starving. Being stuck under film lights all day is actually exhausting work contrary to popular belief and obviously he gets fed but he’s like a bottomless pit with food. Can’t ever seem to get enough, but he’s always that way. The bonus is now that people read him as a guy no one asks if he should eat that much they just kind of assume he’s a glutton. Which, yay, because pastries.

“Um yeah, its pretty good. I’ve tried basically everything here except the caviar and the escargot because I draw the line at rich people food that sounds like it should be poor people food,” he says and Tony snorts, laughing into his hand.

“Yeah, guess fish eggs kind of do sound more like a thing poor people would eat than rich people. Weird. Also, not good- I��ve tried it and I don’t get the hype,” he says, shrugging.

“Tastes like spunk, I don’t get it either,” Tony says and the response obviously surprises Ned because he looks at Tony with a shocked expression on his face which, in hindsight, is probably why he doesn’t notice Peter’s food go overboard and into his lap. He jumps up before the hot food can do damage, then winces when the plate ends up in several pieces on the ground and Ned looks horrified.

“Its okay!” Peter says fast. “Things happen!”

“I am so sorry!” Ned says, eyes wide in horror.

“Its fine! I’ve had worse things thrown at me,” he says fast. Which is true, but also.

Ned rolls his eyes, “all those people who decided you couldn’t play Spider-Man because of some comic book inaccuracy or whatever bullshit need to look at those comics again because in issue 1034, which was released eight weeks before you even got the role, Gwen Stacy asks if you can lay eggs. Tom Holland, not you, you just play him. Whatever. Anyway, Gwen Stacy is a genius so she’d definitely know that only lady spiders can lay eggs. Also, Spider-Man is well known for his slightly high pitched voice and sure, people can argue that’s because he’s a teenager but I was sixteen once too and by then my voice was normal, so for Tom Holland to have hit puberty that late its totally acceptable to consider the effects of T on his voice and also- wait, no, oh my god. You don’t give a shit about any of this, people suck. They’re transphobes and also you have the perfect frame for it and lets be real, Christian Bale would have been a better choice than Toby fucking Maguire,” he says, flapping a hand around and wincing at his rant.

Peter raises an eyebrow, “there’s actual comic text evidence for trans Spider-Man?” he asks and Ned shrugs, cheeks turning a little red.

“I mean, you kinda gotta dig but if they can randomly make Captain America HYDRA and then unmake him HYDRA when everyone hated that shit trans Spider-Man is much less controversial. Actually, its totally inconsequential because why would that affect being Spider-Man, it just means you gotta take T and you- Tom Holland not you- got bit by a radioactive spider. Is being trans really more unrealistic than that? Because any idiot who claims realism probably need to pull their head out of their ass because the real world ain’t got super soldier serum to give you a shredded bod. Which, by the way, is my kind diet plan- just taking some experimental serum and come out hot. You don’t care about that either, oh my god, I’m getting comic nerd on a celebrity and also your food and-” Peter cuts Ned off to save him from himself.

“I think I might be in love with you, Ned,” he says and then winces, looking to Tony in a panic. Why the hell would he even say that!

“What he means,” Tony interjects smoothly, “is that he thinks you’re adorable, and he wants you number. Maybe a date, if you’re comfortable.”

Ned stares for a long moment. “Oh my god this is exactly season two episode four where MJ asks Gwen out for you even though that’s dumb because MJ and Gwen clearly belong with each other,” Ned says, eyes wide.

“Yeah I know right? Peter- Quill-” he clarifies when he remembers too late there’s two Peters involved in Spider-Man, “keeps pushing for it but stupid TV people won’t let him. So now he’s writing them as gay as possible to piss everyone off, except its kind of backfiring because now everyone thinks he’s queerbaiting but he’s not he’s queer expliciting as much as he can before someone fires him. Also yeah, I just don’t think Gwen is a good match for my character anyways, I mean she’s nice and all that but they’re kind of... platonic. Oh, um, do you know what a Miles Morales is?” he asks because Quill mentioned him and Peter has no idea who that is.

Ned does because he lets out a loud noise that’s halfway between a huff and a squeal and Peter is sure he’s never heard a noise like it before. “Oh my god they’re introducing Miles Morales! Yes!”

Tony throws a dinner roll at him and it bounces off his head, “you shit head, don’t give away spoilers!” he says like it isn’t a meme that Peter consistently gives stuff away. At this point they’ve started using it as marketing material it happens so often. Like that time he opened a supposedly internal poster on his Instagram and faked being shocked when he realized it wasn’t supposed to be public. Everyone ate it up even if they all knew it was fake- obviously it was considering the video was never taken down, but the fans loved it anyway.

“Give me every single spoiler now!” Ned says, excitement written all over his features.

Peter considers saying no but he’s not good at peer pressure, its how he got talked into doing shrooms when he was thirteen and that was a bad plan. “The multiverse explodes and one of the spider people dies but I can’t tell you which one,” he says quickly. Tony throws another roll at him for it but he can’t help it.

Ned lets out a loud screech, “oh my god if Peter Quill kills you I’ll go kill him!” he yells way too loud. People turn to stare and Peter waves them off.

“Talking about a TV show!” he assures people and Ned, to his credit, looks like he kind of wants the earth to swallow him.

“Peter doesn’t die,” Tony says, “and we’re going to leave before Dipshit McGee lets any more spoilers loose. You might not want to tell anyone any of that stuff, people will find you and I really wish that was a joke but its not. You’ll get like twelve cease and desist letters.”

“That’s true, I have like fifty of them in frames and also I’ve been banned from reading scripts until shooting schedule because I really am terrible at keeping things secret and this is really Quill’s fault for telling me any of this stuff and hey wait I don’t have his number yet,” he says and Tony drags him off.

“I’ll get his number and pay, you stop spoiling Quill’s hard work before he decides to kill you next,” Tony says.

[titleknown]

In a weird sleazy city, on an early November night, in an apartment slightly too small for hosting parties, there was a celebration being held. If one went up to the door, or looked in the window, one could see lights; a few candles, mostly electric, and hear the sounds of speech...

One could see faces talking about lives no longer amongst them, not solemnly but raucously, as the smell of chilli peppers and beans cooked in lard filled the air and sugar skulls adorned countertops. The host was unusual yes, a great muscular yellow-spined beast of a monster-woman by the handle of Body Shock. with the subtle crackle of electricity around her, but this was not a time where that was relevant.

This was a time for memories, as she roamed around the room, receiving and pushing forward wild antecdotes of days gone by, and music playing from several daisy-chained dollar-store speakers that she added a tune or so to the playlist when she heard someone mentioning a person gone by to them and their favorite song.

And all of this was around a great-small altar, built of brick and cardboard as high as the celling would let it go, and painted in bright colors, adorned with photographs and keepsakes and sugar skulls and candles, a fulcrum around which the party revolved.

And then, suddenly, it stopped. For, the door had creaked open and; into the room entered a woman. She carried an aura that brought a hush upon the crowd, a lean and deathly pallor of power despite the top of her hat barely reached to the shoulders of the next- shortest person in the room.

It was Boss McGlade, arch-criminal and enemy to Body Shock,  and if her eyes were not already blood red, they would have turned such as Body Shock grabbed McGlade by the front of her shirt collar.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Shock said, in a voice b=vaguely approxiamting calm.

“Now, now,” said McGlade, flashing a shark-toothed; smug grin, “Is that any way to treat a guest? It would be gauche of you to disrupt this party with an assault on my person, as would it be gauche for me to commit any acts of assault against yourself in front of so many witnesses.”

Body Shock hoisted her higher “Nice fuckin try, but you still ain’t answered my question” One of the guests had gotten out a sword cane at this point.

“Simply put, because of your exact sort of response, and because I felt I could do so with few reprecussions, it would be of little benefit to yourself  to call the authorities on a party in this neighborhood.”

Body Shock lowered her a bit. It’s fascinating how the two were united in their mutual distaste for cops,  with reasonings that sometimes even matched up. “How the fuck do I know you ain’t here on some bullshit?”

“You would not believe me if I claimed I wasn’t. Plus, again, witnesses would be a means of disadvantage to us both, would they not?”

With that, Body Shock dropped her unceremoniously, with McGlade landing right on her own two feet with equal lack of pretense. “Alright, but I ain’t takin an eye off yas.”

“I would expect nothing less” said McGlade, as she went to get a plate.

The mood went back to celebration, albeit with nervous glances at the strange, blue-pallid woman who seemed only interested in a small cup of ginger-ale and a plate slathered in refried beans. But, her focus was on the altar, and the image at the top.

“Hm. Who is this man? You must find him of a great deal of importance for his position at this apex of your ofrenda.”

“Hey, it ain’t just mine, it’s the whole party’s altar. And if you’re lookin for hostages, you’re a few years too late. He’s gone.”

“An acquaintance of yours perhaps?”

“Fuck me, he’s my grandpa, ! Only motherfucker in the whole fuckin family who was ever nice to me! Like, when I was a kid, my parents bought a rabbit, said they’d got me a pet. I was so happy to see that lil’ fucker, Trucker I named ‘em. Month later, turns out it was fattenin’ him up for meat! And they laughed n laughed when I had the stew n I asked where Trucker was”.

“While outside my context, I would presume that seems hideous behavior.”

“I cried for a whole day! But abuelo, he was over there for dinner that night, didn’t know until they told him about 'em, convinced 'em to give him the bones n what was left of the skin for a lil funeral; in a shoebox. He even held a lil ceremony, n kept the foot on a necklace for me to keep,”

Body Shock pointed up at the apex of the Ofrenda, and there was an old; shriveled rabbit’s foot by the portrait of the old man “I still remember the vacant lot it was in…”

Body Shock sighed and put her head down “We were the only ones left there that weren’t trainwrecks or complete motherfuckers. He tried to make sure I got what he had when he left, but the parents weaseled a way to get it for their 'business.’ Like, you heard o the Necro-Narco epidemic?”

“I am vaguely familiar” said McGlade, lying only in that she was in fact extremely familiar with its various fallouts.

“Yeah, that was part o what they did. But hey,” Body Shock said, perking up immediately “they’re probably in a fuckin ditch somewhere, let 'em be forgotten!” She held up a drink and shouted, “A toast to abuelo, wherever the fuck he is right now!”

Glasses were raised, a toast was shouted, and Boss McGlade was suddenly looking down. If there was a vulnerable expression on her face, nobody but her could see it under her wide-brimmed hat and downturned look. Her hands were in her pockets.

“So, whattabout you Doc?” Body Shock responded “Got any loved ones you wanna offer to, some fuckbuddy got whacked by the mob; some dead ma who you wanna avenge or whatever people like y-”

She stopped as McGlade dug something out of her pocket. There was a slight snap of electricity amongst the silence of the audience, only for it to dissipate once everyone saw what it was. A small plastic figurine of what looked like a toy soldier, but with a broken egg with bat wings for an upper body.

She placed it upon the table next to an old; drippy candle, and dug out and placed a sugar skull next to it from her pockets, one of many she had pettily knicked for later consumption. She breathed in a deep sigh, and one could see her hair do a slight bristle as she began to speak:

“I am not at liberty to discuss the further detailings of this event, but I will state that I spent most of my younger life in a series of cruel and abhorrent laboratories, a child treated as simply a prisoner, a child lab-rat. There were others in that lab, and the one I remember most…”

She paused for a moment. “Her name was Susan.”

A few guests could swear they saw tears run down from her eyes. “That wasn’t the name they gave her, but she said she liked it instead of that number they gave us. She was my age, maybe a few months older. She was the only person who was a friend there to me, she shielded me from the punishments for when I had to sneak a scrap of food to not starve from the experiments.”

There were most definitely tears running down from her eyes now. “She used to smuggle in comics and these little figures from this collection. This was one of the ones she didn’t have before she, before she…”

McGlade breathed out a shuddering breath, “I don’t know if she’s even dead. They never found the body. We were going to get married, if we ever got out, we promised each other…”

Body Shock said nothing and walked over. She picked up the figurine, off the table, and placed it right at the top, next to the image of her grandfather.

“Hey, now,” Body Shock sad awkwardly. She wasn’t particularly equipped to deal with her own emotions, no less those of others. “Why don’t we put 'em up top? Seem fitting, like, thematically, yanno?”

Then, transitioning away from that awkwardness, she raised her glass. “A TOAST, TO SUSAN!”

There was a cheer, and a raising of glasses from the other participants and then’; at once; a raised glass from McGlade.

And so, in a weird sleazy city on an early Novermber night, a truce was called for this night alone. It may at first seem strange to call a truce on a holiday of the dead, but the dead never truly die if they are remembered. And, through kindness’ hands, memories work, and the dead may walk again, if but for one night…

So yeah! A more ambitious character piece, to celebrate the true meaning of Day Of The Dead!

As per usual, this drabble is under a CC-BY-SA license for direct adaptation, but all the characters/concepts/settings/ect are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY-Vanilla license so long as I; Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator!

And, if you wanna support me, maybe check out my Patreon, or even just send a Ko-Fi my way! Every penny is appreciated, and I am eternally grateful for those who donate!

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 51 - 53

Sorry these have been coming out a little later than usual, I was sucked into a Nuzlocke playthrough.

Eyllwe’s coast was burning. For three days, they sailed past village after village. Some still burning, some only cinders. And at each of them, Aelin and Rowan had labored to put out those flames.

You get three guesses as to whose feelings over innocent people being burned alive are focused on. The first two don’t count.

Rowboat and the narrative splooge over how ~angsty and tortured~ Alien feels over Eyllwe being burnt and attacked, and how much she’s doing by staying on the ship and trying to put out the flames from there. Yawn. Maybe if Alien wasn’t a shitty character, I’d care.

Also there’s a rumor that Alien herself is starting these fires??? It probably won’t be important, it’s probably just for Alien to cry over so Rowboat can comfort her.

[Rowan]’d breathed [Aelin] in, and she knew he detected an answer to the question that had caused him to flee that morning on the ship. No, she was not carrying his child.

Oh great, this is returning. SJM uses this to briefly describe a sex scene between Rowboat and Alien where Alien reveals she’s not taking anything to prevent pregnancy. I mean, well, where would she get that on a medieval ship?

And then [Aelin] had explained that if she’d inherited so much of Mab’s Fae blood, she might very well have inherited the Fae’s struggle to conceive. And even if the timing was horrible … if this was to be the one shot she had of providing Terrasen a bloodline, a future … she would not waste it.

UMMMM WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST READ.

It literally explains after this Alien didn’t ask Rowboat if he wanted to have kids. She is literally using him to have sex with in an attempt to have children without his consent. WHAT THE FUCK. THIS IS NOT OKAY!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS NOT CONSENSUAL OR HEALTHY!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, but since Alien is a woman and Rowboat is a man, it’s suddenly okay???? WHAT THE FUCK AM I READING

So aside from that extremely horrifying implication, the gang makes it to the Stone Marshes and Manon has to say goodbye to Abraxos, since he’d be too noticeable on the marshes. I cry.

Manon swallowed hard. “You saved my life. Many times. I never thanked you for it.” Abraxos let out another low whine. “You and me,” she promised him. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”

I can’t believe a bloodthirsty witch and her pet wyvern are the only two characters I care about on this entire ship besides Gav. Despite SJM trying to ruin Manon’s character, she and Abraxos still deserve better.

Manon tears up that red cloak from her half sister she killed and uses it to tie her hair back, before chucking the rest of it into the sea. SJM can’t resist the urge to then make it all about Alien’s feefees.

Aelin Galathynius said quietly, “You never stop seeing their faces.” It was only when they were rowing for the shore, spindrift soaking them, that Manon realized the queen hadn’t meant the Thirteen. And Manon wondered if Aelin, too, had watched that cloak floating out to sea and thought it looked like spilled blood.

Manon just had to cope with the idea her Thriteen might be dead and it’s all about Alien feeling upsetti some country people she’s never met died. adhjgfjah I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s all fine.

Next chapter opens up with Lorass and Elide on their journey to find Alien. Lorass says that the dark god himself Hellas is guiding him or some shit...? I don’t really care. They’re off the boat and come across a place that got fucked up by something.

Indeed, the hair on his arms had risen, every instinct on alert as he scanned the marshes, the ruins, the brambles, and thick foliage that had choked some of the islands. Even the god of death halted his nudging and ducked behind Lorcan’s shoulder.

You.. just spent several paragraphs splooging about the connection between the god of death and Lorass and how badass it is, and now you’re saying the god of death is cowering behind Lorass. SJM, you’re killing me I hope you know. You’re killing me.

“What is inside these marshes?” [Elide] asked instead. “Why is Aelin headed into them?” (...) “I don’t know,” [Lorcan] admitted. “No towns or outposts exist anywhere nearby.” Yet this was where the dark god had led him—and where that hand still pushed him to venture, even if it quaked.

I’m tired. Have a reaction image to sum up my feelings.

They travel for a couple of days across the marshes. One night, Elide hears some spoopy noises, so she asks Lorass to tell her about Maeve.

“Do you love her?” Those eyes, darker than the gaps between the stars, slid to her. “I have been in love with Maeve since I first laid eyes on her.”

Maeve treats all of you like servants, and in some cases slaves, and has no real affection for any of you. You’re her soldiers, and she’s not exactly a caring queen. Why are you all in love with her? Is it because she’s hot?

Elide’s like “uhh that doesn’t sound like love at all” and Lorass gets all pissy. Lmfao he’s just angry because she’s right.

“I think love should make you happy,” Elide said, remembering her mother and father. How often they had smiled and laughed, how they had gazed at each other. “It should make you into the best possible version of yourself.”

Funny how SJM understands this........ but writes Ratlin as posessive and abusive assholes to each other and has Alien not ask Rowboat for consent.... *thinking emoji*

tl;dr Elide kisses him and Lorass decides to make out with him. I’m not... horribly offended as I am with Ratlin, it’s just kinda a dumb ship with no chemistry, but hey, I’ll take that over the pile of dogshit that is Ratlin.

Lorass is about to slide into second base when he hears a bunch of Ilken arriving, and it’s implied they’re coming for Alien. I feel bad for how short this review is at the moment, so let’s keep going to chapter 53.

Two days into the endless labyrinth of the Stone Marshes—two, not the day and a half that gods-damned Rolfe had suggested—Aelin was inclined to burn the whole place to the ground.

Oh no, one half of a day more than his estimate... stop being such a whiny lil shit, Alien.

[Aelin] kept the [insects] away with a shield of invisible flame, revealed only by the zinging as they slammed into it. She might have felt bad, had they not tried to eat her alive the first day here.

Why would you feel bad for killing insects? They’re bugs who could possibly be carrying diseases. So Alien feels bad for killing dangerous insects, but not some of Rolfe’s people?? Lmfao you are so full of shit, SJM.

[Fenrys] could no doubt leap the gaps between the islands in wolf form, as could Gavriel. Why they bothered staying in Fae form was beyond [Aelin].

Ok, so like... why are they staying in Fae form, then? Also, that wording implies that Gav also has a wolf form, which he does not, he shifts into a lion.

Lysandra and Fenrys lowkey flirt with one another over their brands or some shit? Skipping this like my life depends on it tbh.

Dorian and Manon hauled themselves onto the bank below, dripping wet

But did they haul their asses onto the bank? This is important information the world needs to know, SJM!

Aedion, seated beside [Aelin], passed the too-light skin of wine. She swigged from it, glad for the sour slide that washed away any lingering taste of the meat.

Oh my god... they drink wine instead of water? This explains so much about these books. Corrected by @kittyinhighheels that this is actually historically correct! Thank you for correcting me on that.

Anyways, some swamp beast attacks them out of the blue, aiming for Manon, but Dorito stops it with his ice magic.

But Aelin looked back at Rowan, holding his stare. How convenient that your shield vanished right as that thing waddled up. What an excellent opportunity for a magic lesson. What if it had gone wrong? Rowan’s eyes glittered. Why do you think the hole opened up by the witch?

So Rowboat was willing to risk  Manon’s life - and possibly others - in order to... shoehorn in a magic lesson for Dorito? Nope. This was an excuse for Dorito to save Manon, and you all know it.

Apparently, the amulet Alien carries is an entirely different symbol and meaning in the witches’ culture. That’s actually kinda cool, I like it. Manon tells the story of Rhiannon Crochan and how she cursed the other witches before she died. It’s pretty neat; SJM really should’ve cut out the Alien bullshit and kept the series about the witches.

Later on, the male Fae fuck off to have a private conversation.

Gavriel said, “You should take Aelin a thousand miles from here. Tonight.” A wave of [Rowan’s] magic and honed instincts told him all was safe in the immediate vicinity, calming the killing rage he’d slipped into at the thought.

Jeeeeeeeeeeeesus, Rowboat. I get wanting to protect your loved ones but he gets such a fucking raging anger at the thought of anyone near Alien and it’s so fucking gross.

Fenrys points out the similarities between Manon and Alien, like they’re both have different sides of heritage, both lsot queens, etc. Yeah, but you also forgot that Alien is a raging selfish asshole and Manon isn’t, so.

Fenrys breathed, “Maeve will not allow herself to lose. Already, she’s replaced you.” Rowan whirled on Gavriel. “Who.” Those lion’s eyes darkened. “Cairn.”

Why do you care? This is treated as a big reveal when A) Lorass already told us about this dude, and B) Of course Maeve would replace you after you left.

Cairn … No amount of training, both off the battlefield and on it, had ever broken the Fae warrior of his penchant for cruelty. Rowan had locked him up, flogged him, disciplined him, wielded whatever shred of compassion he could muster in himself … nothing. Cairn had been born savoring the suffering of others.

Oh, of course he’s a one dimensional evil bad guy, too. SJM doesn’t know what nuance means.

For Maeve not to have given either male a gag order through the blood oath

I had to read that, so you do too.

Apparently Maeve wants Lorass dead because he and Rowboat are the msot powerful males in the world. Hnnnnnnnngh and as if that gushing isn’t bad enough, Fenrys literally asks Rowboat to kill him if Maeve makes him kill Alien.

Alien is such a goddamn Mary Sue, literally every character loves her and kisses her ass and those who hate her are villainized to hell and back. I’m so tired.

“I’m glad, you know,” Fenrys said with unusual graveness, “that I got this time. That Maeve unintentionally gave me that. That I got to know what it was like—to be here, as a part of this.” Rowan didn’t have words, so he looked to Gavriel. But the Lion was merely nodding as he stared down at the little camp below. At his sleeping son.

F-fuck... this got to me. Gav and Fenrys deserve better and they better not die I swear to god.

[aridara]

Verifying a list of “hateful feminist quotes”. (From F to M)

Continuing my checking of whether these quotes are actually hateful opinions of feminists (instead of, say, non-hateful opinions, or opinions we can’t know where they came from, or fictional opinions made by fictional characters...) or not.

"I was, in reality, bred by my parents as my father's concubine... What we take for granted as the stability of family life may well depend on the sexual slavery of our children. What's more, this is a cynical arrangement our institutions have colluded to conceal.".

Sylvia Fraser Journalist

Unverifiable. Once again, the only places where this quote is cited is from this same copy-pasted “hateful feminist quotes” list, which I’ve shown (and will keep showing) over and over to be fucking dishonest, to say the least. By this point, NOBODY would give it the benefit of the doubt.

"All men are rapists and that's all they are"

Marilyn French, Authoress; later, advisoress to Al Gore's Presidential Campaign.

Fictional - it comes from "The Women’s Room" (1977). Specifically, Val (one of the fictional characters in the book) says it right after her daughter has been raped.

"All patriarchists exalt the home and family as sacred, demanding it remain inviolate from prying eyes. Men want privacy for their violations of women... All women learn in childhood that women as a sex are men's prey."

Marilyn French, The Women's Room, Summit Books, 1977

True, but not hateful (and not from "The Women's Room"). It's definitely a denunciation of the rigid gender roles that put the man as the family’s head, and the woman as the servant who has to serve the man - even sexually. Notice how she talks about “patriarchists”? Yeah, those are the people who want to enforce those gender roles.

"The media treat male assaults on women like rape, beating, and murder of wives and female lovers, or male incest with children, as individual aberrations...obscuring the fact that all male violence toward women is part of a concerted campaign."

Marilyn French, The Women's Room, Summit Books, 1977

True, but not hateful (and not from "The Women's Room"). She was talking about rape culture, or one aspect of it - specifically: the refusal to see violence against women as a systemic issue. It’s easier to blame social problems on single deranged individuals (which are “not me”) rather than admit that they’re social problems (and thus “also me”); but it doesn’t solve those problems. This is what French was denouncing.

"My feelings about men are the result of my experience. I have little sympathy for them. Like a Jew just released from Dachau, I watch the handsome young Nazi soldier fall writhing to the ground with a bullet in his stomach and I look briefly and walk on. I don't even need to shrug. I simply don't care. What he was, as a person, I mean, what his shames and yearnings were, simply don't matter."

Marilyn French, Author "The Women's Room"

Again: fictional. "The Women's Room" is a fictional book.

“As long as some men use physical force to subjugate females, all men need not. The knowledge that some men do suffices to threaten all women. He can beat or kill the woman he claims to love; he can rape women…he can sexually molest his daughters… THE VAST MAJORITY OF MEN IN THE WORLD DO ONE OR MORE OF THE ABOVE.”

- Marilyn French

True, but not hateful; it has been massively (I suspect deliberately) edited. Here's the full quote, with the parts that anti-feminists chopped away in bold:

"As long as some men use physical force to subjugate females, all men need not. The knowledge that some men do suffices to threaten all women. Beyond that, it is not necessary to beat up a woman to bear her down. A man can simply refuse to hire women in well-paid jobs, extract as much or more work from women than men but pay them less, or treat women disrespectfully at work or at home. He can fail to support a child he has engendered, demand the woman he lives with wait on him like a servant. He can beat or kill the woman he claims to love; he can rape women, whether mate, acquaintance, or stranger; he can rape or sexually molest his daughters, nieces, stepchildren, or the children of a woman he claims to love. THE VAST MAJORITY OF MEN IN THE WORLD DO ONE OR MORE OF THE ABOVE."

So, yeah. Anti-feminists forgot to include job discrimination, general disrespect, and treating your wife like a servant to the list; with their omission, they try to make French appear as if she was saying "most men are rapists, murderers, or beaters of women". Pretty fucking dishonest, to say the least.

"My own informal survey of adult women suggests that very few reach the age of twenty-one without suffering some form of male predation--incest, molestation, rape or attempted rape, beatings, and sometimes torture or imprisonment."

Marilyn French, The War Against Women, Ballantine Books, 1992, p. 195)

Unverifiable and not hateful. Given the massive bullshit that happened with the previous quote, I now suspect that anti-feminists attempted the same trick here - cutting away stuff like job discrimination/general disrespect/being treated like a servant.

"The proportion of men must be reduced to and maintained at approximately 10% of the human race."

Sally Miller Gearhart, in The Future - If There Is One - Is Female.

Huh, look at that: a true and actually hateful quote. Good job. Have a cookie.

"[Men are] freaks of nature... full of queer obsessions about fetishistic activities and fantasy goals."

Germaine Greer, The Whole Woman, Knopf, 1999

Unverifiable. While various sources report the quote to try and attack Greer, I cannot find any part of the quote in the "The Whole Woman" ebook. Maybe there is, and I just cannot see it because it's just a preview, but I'm very doubtful.

"If women are to effect a significant amelioration in their condition it seems obvious that they must refuse to marry."

Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch, McGraw-Hill, 1971, p. 317)

Unverifiable - same as the above - and probably not hateful, given that this is, once again, about forcing women into heteronormative gender roles and marriages. Maybe the quote really exists in the "The Female Eunuch" ebook; but I can't find it.

"...men bash women because they enjoy it; they torture women as they might torture an animal or pull the wings off flies."

Germaine Greer, The Whole Woman, Knopf, 1999

Unverifiable - see the previous. However, there are a few quotes where Greer points out that some men torture women, and very probably enjoyed doing so.

"The man regards (woman) as a receptacle into which he has emptied his sperm, a kind of human spittoon."

Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch, McGraw-Hill, 1971)

Once again: unverifiable. But it looks like Greer here is talking about the attitude of many men at the time.

"Probably the only place where a man can feel really secure is in a maximum security prison, except for the imminent threat of release."

Germaine Greer

True, but not hateful. Here's the original quote from 1970 (again, the bolded part is the one that anti-feminists cut out):

"Probably the only place where a man can feel really secure is in a maximum security prison, except for the imminent threat of release. The problem of recidivism ought to have shown young men like John Greenaway just what sort of a notion security is, but there is no indication that he would understand it. Security is when everything is settled, when nothing can happen to you; security is the denial of life. Human beings are better equipped to cope with disaster and hardship than they are with unvarying security, but as long as security is the highest value in a community they can have little opportunity to decide this for themselves."

This isn’t about whether men should be all thrown in prison or not. This is about how putting “security” above everything else means stripping any choice from your life - which would make it so that it couldn’t even be called “life” at all.

In an interview Germaine Greer (radical feminist, writer) was asked the question, "You were once quoted as saying your idea of the ideal man is a woman with a dick. Are you still that way inclined?" Greer first denied that she had said it, and then replied, "I have a great deal of difficulty with the idea of the ideal man. As far as I'm concerned, men are the product of a damaged gene. They pretend to be normal but what they're doing sitting there with benign smiles on their faces is they're manufacturing sperm. They do it all the time. They never stop. I mean, we women are more reasonable. We pop one follicle every 28 days, whereas they are producing 400 million sperm for each ejaculation, most of which don't take place anywhere near an ovum. I don't know that the ecosphere can tolerate it."

Germaine Greer At a Hilton Hotel literary lunch, promoting her book, The Change-Women, Aging and the Menopause, Knopf, 1992 from a news report dated 11/14/91)

Unverifiable. It should say “SUPPOSEDLY from a newsreport THAT NOBODY SEEMS TO BE ABLE TO FIND”. So, yet another unsourced quote.

Oh, and the “My ideal man is a woman with a dick” quote? ALSO unsourced.

"The nuclear family must be destroyed, and people must find better ways of living together…. Whatever its ultimate meaning, the breakup of families now is an objectively revolutionary process…. No woman should have to deny herself any opportunities because of her special responsibilities to her children…."

Linda Gordon in "Functions of the Family," WOMEN: A Journal of Liberation, Fall, 1969

True - this quote is actually a really existing quote. It’s also distinctly non-hateful of men. It’s distinctly angry at the social imposition of marriage and the nuclear family system, though - but remember: the wife was supposed to stay at home and obey her husband in everything, back in 1969.

"And if the professional rapist is to be separated from the average dominant heterosexual (male), it may be mainly a quantitative difference."

Susan Griffin

True, but not hateful. I’ve managed to track the quote. And guess what? It was a talk about how the social expectations of the time (this part was written in 1971) expected the woman to turn down sexual advances even if she desired them, because it was considered “unchaste” for a woman to desire sex; and expected the man to wear down the woman’s “reserves”, without checking whether the woman in question actually wanted the sex, or not. It the same part, Griffin explains how, *with this social system* (that she did NOT create, nor is she advocating for) the difference between “a man who wear down a woman’s reservations” and “a rapist” is simply in how much pressure they use to make the woman have sex with them.

“We live in a culture that condones and celebrates rape. Within a phallocentric, patriarchal state the rape of women by men is a ritual that daily perpetuates and maintains sexist oppression and exploitation. We cannot hope to transform “rape culture” without committing ourselves fully to resisting and eradicating patriarchy.”

–Bell Hooks, “Seduced by Violence No More,” in Stan, Adele ed. Debating Sexual Correctness (New York, 1995)

True, but not hateful. The book is specifically talking about rape culture - aka a culture that, even if it claims that rape is wrong, in practice it fails to adequately deal with rape, instead blaming women for getting raped. This, in turn, allows sexist men to oppress women with next to no consequences.

"When a woman reaches orgasm with a man she is only collaborating with the patriarchal system, eroticizing her own oppression..."

Sheila Jeffreys

Unverifiable. HOORAAY!

“In order to raise children with equality, we must take them away from families and communally raise them”

(Dr. Mary Jo Bane, feminist and assistant professor of education at Wellesley College, and associate director of the school’s Center for Research on Woman).

Unverifiable, and probably not hateful. For starters, the source for this quote is Lew Rockwell, which is an INCREDIBLY far-right-biased source.

For another, the quote sounds like part of an argument in favor of the communal parenting, which is an argument that has been pretty explored. Also, note how she refers to communal parenting - not to women-only parenting.

"I believe that women have a capacity for understanding and compassion which a man structurally does not have. He does not have it not because he cannot have it. He's just incapable of it."

Former US Congresswoman Barbara Jordan

Huh, look at that. This quote (it’s reported in a 1992 issue of Texas Monthly, but the actual quote doesn’t have a date) is actually true, and does sound hateful. Can someone check out the score? Because, at the time of this writing, I checked 42 quotes, only 2 (possibly 3) of which were verified to be true and actually hateful.

"Marriage has existed for the benefit of men and has been a legally sanctioned method of control over women.... Male society has sold us the idea of marriage.... Now we know it is the institution that has failed us and we must work to destroy it.... The end of the institution of marriage is a necessary condition for the liberation of women. Therefore, it is important for us to encourage women to leave their husbands and not to live individually with men."

Nancy Lehmann, Helen Sullinger, Declaration of Feminism, 1971

Unverifiable. Apparently there is a book titled "The document: a declaration of feminism" published in 1971; but there's no way to verify if that quote actually exists. And the link I provided is basically the only source of that book's existance - outside of the edited quote above, which is present only in anti-feminist websites.

There is also the "Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen", written by Olympe de Gouges in 1791. Coincidence? I have no idea. Maybe it is.

"Man-hating is everywhere, but everywhere it is twisted and transformed, disguised, tranquilized, and qualified. It coexists, never peacefully, with the love, desire, respect, and need women also feel for men. Always man-hating is shadowed by its milder, more diplomatic and doubtful twin, ambivalence."

Judith Levine

Maybe true, but there is no context. I can’t make heads or tails of what it actually means. It’s the same case as some of the Dworkin quotes - no indication of the work or the context it was taken from.

"I feel what they feel: man-hating, that volatile admixture of pity, contempt, disgust, envy, alienation, fear, and rage at men. It is hatred not only for the anonymous man who makes sucking noises on the street, not only for the rapist or the judge who acquits him, but for what the Greeks called philo-aphilos, 'hate in love,' for the men women share their lives with--husbands, lovers, friends, fathers, brothers, sons, coworkers."

Judith Levine, My Enemy, My love

Unverifiable. The only sources talking about this quote are anti-feminist ones.

"There are no boundaries between affectionate sex and slavery in (the male) world. Distinctions between pleasure and danger are academic; the dirty-laundrylist of 'sex acts'...includes rape, foot binding, fellatio, intercourse, auto eroticism, incest, anal intercourse, use and production of pornography, cunnilingus, sexual harassment, and murder."

Judith Levine; summarizing comment on the WAS document, (A southern Women's Writing Collective: Women Against Sex.)

The quote itself is unverifiable and not hateful, given that all of those acts have been (1) used by men against women, and (2) justified as “normal” sexuality by those same men.

However, the bit where the anti-feminist author of this list talks about “Women Against Sex” is false: the real title of the document Levine was talking about was "Sex resistance in heterosexual arrangements: Manifesto of the Southern Women’s Writing Collective". Because making up a false title to demonize feminists is acceptable behavior, am I right, anti-feminists? (# sarcasm)

"Men's sexuality is mean and violent, and men so powerful that they can 'reach WITHIN women to fuck/construct us from the inside out.' Satan-like, men possess women, making their wicked fantasies and desires women's own. A woman who has sex with a man, therefore, does so against her will, 'even if she does not feel forced."

Judith Levine

Slightly unverifiable - I can’t find neither a scan, nor the citation for the full Levine quote. What I did find was the book Levine was looking at - My Enemy, My Love (1993), a book that talks about “gender roles, the social definitions of masculinity and femininity, the culture’s assignment of certain exclusive traits to each biological sex, [which] have imprisoned us on either side of a divide”. Also: no mention about whether the women interviewed by Levine were feminists or not, and in particular, no mention of the context for the quote.

"All sex, even consensual sex between a married couple, is an act of violence perpetrated against a woman."

Catherine MacKinnon

False. The quote apparently comes from Playboy, Oct 1986; but it wasn’t written by MacKinnon, nor anyone was able to track the instance where she supposedly originally said/wrote that.

"You grow up with your father holding you down and covering your mouth so another man can make a horrible searing pain between your legs."

Catherine MacKinnon, Feminism Unmodified: Discourses of Life and Law – Sex and Violence: A Perspective, Harvard University Press, 1987

True, but out of context. From what I can understand, this is from yet another discussion about non-con pornography (“Only Words”, 1993); MacKinon wasn't talking about families in general.

What's with anti-feminists taking discussions about problematic and sexist porn and deciding that feminists were talking about everyday life? What, do anti-feminist believe that pornography is an accurate representation of real li-

Nevermind, let's move on...

"Feminism, Socialism, and Communism are one in the same, and Socialist/Communist government is the goal of feminism."

Catherine MacKinnon" Toward a Feminist Theory of the State (First Harvard University Press, 1989), p.10

False. The quote is completely absent from MacKinnon's book, or any of her books. Apparently, this is a slightly modified quote from "The Unhappy Marriage of Marxism and Feminism".

"In a patriarchal society, all heterosexual intercourse is rape because women, as a group, are not strong enough to give meaningful consent."

Catherine MacKinnon

Misattributed. The quote itself comes from "Professing Feminism", which wasn't written by MacKinnon, but by Daphne Patai and Noretta Koertge; they were talking about MacKinnon and Dworkin's opinions - they weren't quoting them. (And no, neither Dworkin nor MacKinnon believed that intercourse is rape.). The misattribution was caused by right-wing columnist Cal Thomas, who wrote an article about "Professing Feminism" and mistakenly attributed that quote to MacKinnon.

“The care of children ..is infinitely better left to the best trained practitioners of both sexes who have chosen it as a vocation…[This] would further undermine family structure while contributing to the freedom of women.”

–Kate Millet, Sexual Politics 178-179

Misattributed. Here, Millet isn't talking about his own beliefs; he's talking about Engels's. Specifically, he's talking about how the idea that "The woman is naturally the one best equipped to raise a child" has the effects of:

Put a limitation on the woman, but not the man. If the woman wants to, say, pursue a career, she's forced to deal with child-raising AND with pursuing the career; the man has to deal only with the latter, because society pressures the woman into doing the former.

It's inefficient, because you just decide that the woman is the one most capable of raising a kid, instead of looking at which person is the most capable.

"We can't destroy the inequities between men and women until we destroy marriage."

Robin Morgan.-From Sisterhood Is Powerful, (ed), 1970, p. 537

True, but not hateful. Again: “marriage” presupposed that the woman stayed at home and obeyed her husband in everything. I fail to see how being against the imposition of this kind of marriage/gender roles is hateful.

"I feel that 'man-hating' is an honourable and viable political act, that the oppressed have a right to class-hatred against the class that is oppressing them."

Robin Morgan.-former president of the National Organization for Women (NOW) and editor of MS magazine

True (1973). I also fail to see what’s wrong with “class-hatred”, aka being justifiably angry with the oppressing class while fighting against its privileges. I mean, I do understand that nobody shouldn’t oppress anyone else even if they were oppressed beforehand, but here we’re talking about expressing justified anger against an oppressive system, and wanting to dismantle it. What, is that illegal now?

"I claim that rape exists any time sexual intercourse occurs when it has not been initiated by the woman, out of her own genuine affection and desire."

Robin Morgan.

True, but not hateful. I fail to see where’s the problem with this quote. It’s basically the concept of “yes means yes” - you don’t have sex with anyone unless they want it. ...Oh, wait, now I see why anti-feminists have a problem with this quote.

"And let's put one lie to rest for all time: the lie that men are oppressed, too, by sexism--the lie that there can be such a thing as 'men's liberation groups.' Oppression is something that one group of people commits against another group, specifically because of a 'threatening' characteristic shared by the latter group--skin, color, sex or age, etc. The oppressors are indeed FUCKED UP by being masters, but those masters are not OPPRESSED. Any master has the alternative of divesting himself of sexism or racism--the oppressed have no alternative--for they have no power but to fight. In the long run, Women's Liberation will of course free men--but in the short run it's going to cost men a lot of privilege, which no one gives up willingly or easily. Sexism is NOT the fault of women--kill your fathers, not your mothers".

Robin Morgan.

True (1970), but not hateful. This shows a big miscommunication problem between MRAs and feminists. See, many feminists define sexism not as “acts of individual discrimination against a gender”, but as “an oppressive social system where one gender is treated as inferior”. By that logic, what MRAs claim is “sexism against men”, feminists call it "discrimination against men", but not "sexism against men", because women did NOT create this system where masculinity is put on a (very narrow) pedestal and femininity is derided. As Morgan put it:

"The oppressors are indeed FUCKED UP by being masters, but those masters are not OPPRESSED. Any master has the alternative of divesting himself of sexism or racism—the oppressed have no alternative—for they have no power but to fight. In the long run, Women’s Liberation will of course free men—but in the short run it’s going to cost men a lot of privilege, which no one gives up willingly or easily."

You can’t compare the situation of an oppressed class (who has to tear down the system biased against it) with that of the privileged class (who actually made the biased system in the first place and could fix it). And what Morgan is saying is correct. Systematic oppression divide society in a privileged group (which has a certain amounts of benefits that the oppressed do not have, and/or is exempt from various disadvantages that instead the oppressed do face) and an oppressed one. Dismantling such a system DOES damage the privileged group, because it takes away their privileges - privileges that they shouldn't have in the first place, and that are based on the oppression of marginalized groups.

“My white skin disgusts me. My passport disgusts me. They are the marks of an insufferable privilege bought at the price of others’ agony.”

-Robin Morgan

Not hateful. From the looks of it, here Morgan is talking about the effects of white colonialism and racism - specifically how they benefit white or white-passing people such as her. For example: being allowed to travel or emigrate wherever you want and be treated as a person, while non-white immigrants are by default believed to be violent criminals, murderers, and rapists.

[siuilaruinofthegale]

SIRIUS!!!!!!!! this is from the newest chapter of Melodies >:))))) (for the DVD commentary)

Despite his training, Tenzo almost laughs at the way the crowd parts for this new invader — but he doesn’t. Instead, he prepares himself, ready to spring if they’re a threat. It feels like forever before he sees the person shoving their way through the crowd: a very, very… top-heavy… blonde woman, trailed by a lithe woman with dark hair. “There you are, you old fuck,” she grumbles. Tenzo relaxes a little. Though he’s never seen the woman in person before, there’s only one person this could be.

“Tsunade-chan,” the Hokage greets her warmly, opening his arms for a hug. “It’s been years! How are you, my dear?”

She glances at his open arms and rolls her eyes. Instead of hugging him, she crosses her arms… and Tenzo has to look away for a second to collect himself. “Cut the shit, old man. You know perfectly well why I’m here. The fuck is this I hear about you demoting my apprentice? Talk fast, or else I’m going to demote you, sensei.”

Sarutobi-sama sighs. “No hugs? Not even a little one?” he asks, still holding his arms out. The frown on Tsunade’s face only grows deeper. “Ah, very well…” He drops his arms, and suddenly he seems taller, more imposing, more the Hokage and less the man. “Your apprentice burst into a Council meeting she was not qualified to be in, and showed flagrant disrespect to both the Elders and me in doubting our actions by informing us, at the top of her lungs, that she considered it a grave folly to induct Uchiha Itachi into ANBU at such a young age.”

Silence. “…and?” Tsunade says after a minute, raising one eyebrow. “What else did she do? Spit on you? Pee on Koharu’s flowers? Moon Homura?” The Hokage blinks at her and shakes his head slowly. “No? Did she break anyone’s bones? Throw someone out the window?”

He huffs, a bit of anger in the sound. “Tsunade, you know full well I cannot allow people to do such things. Perhaps, had she voiced her concerns in a calmer manner, I would not have demoted her at all, but she —“

“She gave a damn!” Tsunade snaps, her nostrils flaring in anger. “See, here’s the thing you never learned about Sakura. I got to live with this shit the entire time I trained her: she’s soft at heart. Every time something vaguely tragic happened, she wanted us to drag ourselves over and help. She treated each and every kid she helped like she was their sensei, because she wanted them to feel special. She wanted them to feel loved. She —”

“Be that as it may, that’s still no excuse for such rude, inappropriate behavior!” the Hokage snaps right back.

“Was it inappropriate, or was it just inconvenient?” she snarls, lips drawing back from her teeth a little. “You think I don’t know why ANBU stays in the shadows? How dumb do you think I am? You throw shinobi into ANBU, and you sharpen them and sharpen them until they’re on the edge of breaking. A sword might have a sharp edge, but that edge is fragile, and if they’re in the shadows, nobody notices it when they break.” He stares at Tsunade, mouth set tight. “Other villages do it, too. Most missing nin are either genin who wanted to make a name for themselves… or they’re ANBU who finally hit their breaking point. You didn’t demote Sakura because she disrespected you. You demoted her because she pointed out, at the top of her lungs, that you’ve broken almost as many people as you’ve saved.”

I actually really enjoyed writing this scene, and I almost went way more over the top with it, but they ARE in public. Anyway, from the top down! (read moreing because I cannot be silent)

I danced around whose point of view to tell this from, and I eventually decided on Tenzo because Tenzo's relatively neutral, all things considered. As far as I know, he's never seen Tsunade in real life before this point, and I wanted that 'first impression' glimpse. He's also seen the real dark side of ANBU as a child, so he is more than a little invested in Sakura's fervent defense of Itachi, but he's also able to set aside emotions and view things rationally in a way that some others aren't always able to do.

I toyed with having the Sandaime's initial greeting be a little harsher, a little more commensurate with the way she's already located him in the room very rudely, but we all know the Sandaime is a master of rug sweeping. If Tsunade came over and didn't mention Sakura, he would never mention it himself -- which is why he greets her like it's a family reunion, not someone showing up to call him out.

I also wasn't too sure about Tenzo's reaction here, because he is a consummate professional, but I figured he's sat in on enough of the Sandaime's meetings that he's intimately familiar with all Sarutobi's stalling games, all the ways he ameliorates anger, and for all that he's certainly never seen someone roll their eyes at him.

The "I'm going to demote you, sensei" line made me laugh. A lot. Although I haven't shown Sakura's letters to Tsunade yet, Sakura's very good at understating things. Tsunade knows that, so she assumes it's worse than Sakura's relating, but she doesn't realize exactly how much Sakura's understating them. If she did, the Sandaime would've already been demoted. (with a fist, to be clear)

Friendly-Sarutobi and Hokage-Sarutobi being different facets of the same person was something I really wanted to fit in. Just 'cause.

This part, where Tsunade asks "What else?" was almost way bigger, too. Part of why I had Sarutobi come down on Sakura so severely was because she's civilian-born. Whether or not she's the Senju heir and Tsunade's apprentice, when she storms into the meeting with both guns blazing, she doesn't have anything super showy to back up her claims. She constantly claims she's the best med-nin in the world, but her proof of that is... mostly things only other med-nin would understand. A singer isn't going to understand why a pianist might struggle with certain things, so normal shinobi aren't going to understand much of what med-nin do. At this point, the only things she has that are very special are things that she's learned from Tsunade -- which means she might as well be Jane Doe coming in off the street and yelling at the Queen. He wouldn't have disciplined an Uchiha, heir or not, this harshly. Or a Hyuuga, or a Yamanaka, or any of the clan kids.

This "what else" bit, and what follows, is Tsunade basically looking at him and going "the fuck are you mad about old man? this isn't SHIT. she didn't spit in your face, she didn't kill anyone, she literally just showed up and yelled. this is bullshit and YOU KNOW IT."

What his defense amounts to is, "well, if I let one of them get away with it they'll all try!" along with a side of "stop being so hysterical", as a treat, since Sakura's a girl and girls are always hysterical. (I hope the complete and utter derision I focused into that word is audible.)

Melodies!Sakura's considerably harder-looking around the edges than canon!Sakura, mostly because she was born into war, but I wanted it to remain clear that she is, at the core, still Sakura. She wants to help, to make the world better, but when it comes down to it, she's willing to do whatever she has to do to keep her precious people safe. She helps every kid she runs into because she sees herself in them, because she sees echoes of Kakashi and Koga and Dana, and she doesn't want them to go into life alone -- she's all heart, despite the sharp edges.

The last bit, about ANBU, is one I dithered over a surprising amount. As far as I know, canonically, we're never given any statistics about missing nin. What we do see is that ANBU are constantly pushed to their limits, and then they're pushed even farther. Kakashi and Itachi are the most notable examples, I think, but... I think the case could be made for every single person we see in ANBU in the entire shebang. Fandom characterizes Genma as a flirt and a ladies' man, or a mans' man, or a take-all-comers person. Hypersexuality is, not always, but often a reaction to PTSD. As far as I remember, it's most commonly a reaction to specifically sexual trauma, but it's also not unheard of for returning soldiers with PTSD to end up leaning into hypersexuality. It's simply not part of human nature to be able to repeatedly imbibe (and in this case, inflict) trauma and death on others without it negatively effecting your psyche. There are always exceptions, of course, but exceptions aren't the rule.

All of that led into the last line, which took me a lot of staring into the distance and frantic re-writing to get just right. As someone who has C-PTSD herself, I tend to shy away from referring to people with PTSD as 'broken'. It's not very positive. For this, though, I couldn't think of any other word to use. Tsunade's not just talking about grown humans here. She's talking about people who, for the largest part, have been child soldiers. They've been raised on a diet of death and destruction, and without help... eventually, that's what comes back out.

In meta, we the fans know that the massacre is because Itachi was ordered to do so. We've seen it. What we haven't been shown is all the droves of people a system like this would inevitably churn out. Tsunade says it here because she's seen it. The canon deaths she's suffered through removed the veil from her eyes, however thin it was before. She's under no illusions any longer, and it's part of why my Tsunade doesn't go back to Konoha. She's seen the trail of broken ninja she'd have to step over to get back home -- and staying silent for so long means she's wielded the blade just as surely as the Sandaime has.

[alchemistc]

another un-innocent elegant fall

an: i will never be over how quickly i fell into this fucking ship and i will never be over how much they are never gonna be as happy as i want them to be. for @artielu - i wouldn’t even let the tennis elbow bullshit get in the way of this being written, and since you know how idiotic that is i’m dedicating this to you

Dany has imagined, before, what her life might have been if things had been different. If Robert’s Rebellion had never happened, if her brother had won at the Battle of the Trident. 

If, if, if...

She’d have been raised a princess, sister to the heir of the Seven Kingdoms, daughter to a mad king who would likely have been deposed regardless of a rebellion. She imagines Rhaegar himself might have done it - if the stories of his honor were true, at least. 

She’s less certain now.

The men of her family have disappointed her, one after another, until they were all nothing more than rotting flesh and memories of horrible deeds, and the truth of what her brother had done does not make him more admirable in her eyes.

He’d cast aside his wife - an alliance few Targaryens had ever bothered with before, content to keep the family blood as pure as the snow they dared not face to the north. Cast aside the children he’d born of that alliance, to marry a woman a maester had claimed he loved. 

And that woman had given birth to the heir to the Iron Throne. 

She has questioned so many outlandish claims of northern men, and she’s paid the price for it, but that is not what makes her so sure this vision of Brandon Stark is true. 

No, it is the King in the North himself - her knowledge of him, her respect for him, the connection she’s always felt with this courageous fool who hates the violent tool his body has become but uses it all the same. 

She believes in the truth of this vision, not because this Three Eyed Raven business makes any sense at all to her, but because it means she is not the last of her family. She is not alone, and she so desperately wants it to be true.

It is a fool thing to do, admitting to herself what she has denied to Tyrion, to Varys, even to Missendei - but once she has done it, she cannot take it back. If only to herself, she will acknowledge the truth of the matter. In the short time she has known Jon Snow (Aegon - her fool brother had asked his northern bride to name the child Aegon, but he will never take the name for his own, this Dany knows) he has managed to win her trust, her armies, her respect, and her heart. It is the last of those that terrifies her - she’d long suspected she had nothing left of it to give, and to know that it might yet yearn for a companion is something she is ill-equipped to handle.

It is worse by far to know he will find their connection repulsive now. Whatever quiet breaths they might have exchanged together on the ship back to Winterfell, whatever promises she might have seen in his eyes in the bed they’d shared - those were gone now. They had to be. The Targaryens might have bedded and wedded to keep the line pure, but the Starks - the Starks were different. 

She’d seen the way he looked at her in the moments before he swept from the room.

Perhaps, in another life, she might have already been married to the man who was the new heir - perhaps in the political upheaval of casting aside his first wife (and with no precedent either, he’d had two children out of that marriage, no maester should ever have allowed it), the kingdoms would have fought themselves to extinction, perhaps Rhaegar would have died anyway - perhaps Viserys would have been considered more appropriate, and without having grown up an exile he might have made a passable king.

Perhaps the world would have fallen into chaos sooner, and perhaps the Night King would have made himself known earlier. 

Perhaps not. 

It hardly mattered. This world is the only one she has, the one she was born into, the one she will live and die in, and whatever might-have-beens there are, they change nothing now.

In the days since Bran Stark had revealed the truth, Daenerys has considered many courses of action, but none of them have changed the fact that her only tether to her sanity has been the silent direwolf who will not leave her side despite the absence of his master. 

It doesn’t bother her, though she’s certain it should. The wolf is much the same as the man - quiet, watchful, curious but unobtrusive. When she leaves her chambers each morning Ghost is there, already standing as though waiting for her, a sentinel outside her door. 

It’s a concern more than a few have brought up - this beasts master is now the biggest challenger to her rule, and yet, when Dany slides out of her rooms to attend to the days business, her fingers slide over the white fur of his muzzle and the beast leans into her touch, eyes catching hers and holding as though waiting for a command.

It doesn’t come. Ghost is a comfort to her, no matter how her advisors warn her against it, but she does not wish to command him. There is an irony to that she does not care to look too far into.

Throughout her day he comes and goes, but each night the direwolf returns to settle across the hall from her door. 

Tonight is the sixth such night, and as she unravels the braids in her hair and tries to ignore the growing hollow in the pit of her stomach at Jon’s continued avoidance of her, his family, and Winterfell itself, she considers, not for the first time, opening her door to the beast and ushering him inside, allowing his presence to fill the room, and banish away some of the loneliness that has seeped into every stone in this castle.

She is no longer the last of the dragons, but she feels more alone now than ever. 

On her third turn about the room, she hears the clatter of Ghost rising, hears a soft crunch of leather, and considers the possibilities - it could be one of her men, startling Ghost awake (though she’s never seen the direwolf so much as blink in surprise), or it could be one of the northerners angry that the King in the North is just as much a dragon as a wolf - it could be one loyal to Jon, here to get rid of the only person who might stand in his way.

Dany pauses, just before the door, eyes darting across the room, and they land on a dagger near her bedside. In the moment before she moves to reach for it, she tries to shake off the knowledge that her first instinct had been to open the door right away, to defend her silent shadow, before she ever thought of herself.

When she is in front of the door once more, Dany takes a deep, steadying breath. There are Unsullied soldiers at the end of this hallway, and Ghost outside the door besides - nothing outside of her chambers could pose a threat to her.

Arya Stark might, the thought comes, unbidden, but she casts it aside, and twists the key in it’s lock, unlatching the heavy wooden door and blinking into the dark corridor.

Ghost she spots first - there are no torches lit in the hall, and only a dim light coming from the shuttered window at the far end, but Ghost is easy to spot, sitting once more, the bright white of his coat glimmering in the candlelight cast from behind her. 

Her gaze shifts to her right, and Dany can do little more than blink as she takes in the direwolfs late night companion - head propped back against the wall opposite her, legs stretched out in front on him, missing the usual cloaks, and furs - the chestplate and boiled leathers gone too, his eyes shifting carefully from Ghost to her as she stares down upon him.

Jon Snow is a mess. He’s always been hesitant, tentative, rarely holding himself with the grace that might be expected of a lord or a king - the only place he’s ever looked truly highborn is with a sword in his hand and an enemy to fight. 

She’d liked that about him from the start - it had amused her at first, but as she’d grown to know it she’d learned to respect him for it. He didn’t give a damn about titles or ancestors - he cared about his people. About their survival.

His eyes as he turns his gaze to meet hers are glossy, his hair tied back clumsily, the scruff of his beard longer than she’s used to seeing it. 

He doesn’t speak, even as he moves to stand, bracing a hand against the wall behind him, and she takes this moment of distraction to admire the line of his neck, and the strand of hair he’d not managed to pull back that hangs loose over one brow. 

She remembers the way he’d grunted when she’d licked a line up his throat, remembered the pleasant stutter of her heart at the way he’d looked at her when she’d brought a hand up to run her thumb over the widows peak at his crown, and even as he moves across the hall towards her, his steps carefully light and even, she can’t find it in her to hide her thoughts. 

She expects a brisk and curt conversation, some declaration that what they’d done was a mistake, that they must move past it, for the north, for the realm. For the fight ahead, and she braces herself for it, ready to swallow back her arguments, ready to accept that they will be but strangers who share the same blood.

It is a surprise, then, when his hand reaches up to cup her cheek, when his eyes seek out hers, and hold her gaze, and she pulls in a deep breath in response, memorizing the feel of those warm, rough hands against her skin. 

Closer to him now, she can see the sharp hollow of his throat as he swallows, the deep purpling beneath his eyes, showing off the same sleepless nights she has gone through recently. The hand still hanging by his side is clenched into a fist, and without a thought for decency, or propriety, for anything but the man standing in front of her with hope in his eyes, she reaches for it, curling her small fingers around it, the rustle of the fabric around his wrist the only sound save their breathing.

He follows her into her rooms without question, allowing the pressure of her hand over his to pull them both past her doorway, and as she shuts the door behind them, Ghost settles once more against the stone floor.

He’s more sure of himself, beyond the threshold, his hand sliding down her cheek, skimming her throat before it settles where her neck meets her shoulder, and the fist in her hand unfurls, fingers twisting over her palm so that he can curl them into hers. Another stuttering breath and he leans forward, presses his forehead against hers, and his eyes flutter closed as he brushes aside the curtain of hair hanging over her shoulder.

“Dany,” he says, the word barely more than a whisper, and she takes in the rise and fall of his chest, the pressure of his head against hers, the tremble of his hand as it settles once more, this time curled carefully around her neck, his thumb against her pulse, two fingers sliding against her spine.

She wants desperately to kiss him, wants desperately, despite what she might have said before about it, to hear him call her Dany again in that rough, thick way he’d said it into the side of her neck as he finished, but she’s not entirely sure he’s here for that.

He’s still coiled so tight - every shift of his muscle tells her he’s holding back, every unsteady breath makes her think he’s prepared for a fight.

His eyes blink open again, and he blinks, twice, something unfocused about the movement. 

When she pulls her head back, his own falls forward before he manages to jerk it back, and he nearly stumbles forward into her.

“You’re drunk,” she tells him, her face pinching, her gaze growing cold, and he stares at her for a moment before he drops her hand, and the one curled around her neck he drags across her skin, raising it away from her to run over his face, pulling back the strand of loose hair as he leans back against her door.

He snorts, his lip twitching up, and turns to meet her gaze again. “Aye.”

Everything instinct she has tells her to send him away, to order him out of her sight, to sober up and behave like the king he’s meant to be. She does none of those things.

Off her stern look, he chuckles, shoulders bouncing as he stares at her, which only serves to make her more angry. “This situation amuses you?”

“Can’t seem to rustle up disgust, Your Grace,” he says, and the loose hair falls back over his eye. “Might as well enjoy the fucking joke until it kills me.”

Her eyes snap to his. “And you think I intend to kill you?”

His shrug slides against the wood of the door at his back, but after a moment he recovers from the slump, shoulders rolling back, his stance straightening, the half manic smile disappearing from his face. “Not yet.”

It angers her more than it should. They are barely more than strangers, despite the things they’ve shared between them. And in the dark recesses of her mind, the thought had crossed her. Just the once, and she’d dashed it away as quickly as it had come. She’d never once considered he might have the same thought.

Whatever he was, he was a dragon, and a good man besides. Both of those were a rare thing in this world.

And still it irks her that he’s come to such a conclusion. “I haven’t spent the past week planning your demise, Lord Snow.”

His jaw clenches at the name, just as she’d hoped it would. She could have used Aegon to the same effect, but if he meant to call her Your Grace behind closed doors, she’d give him a taste of the same.

“You’re the only one then.”

There is no anger in his voice, no fear, only resigned acceptance, and the dragon in her rears up, her lips pursed as she drags her eyes over him once more. 

He blows out a breath through his nose as she takes two wide steps to meet him, her hands reaching for his where they hang loose at his sides.

“They will have to come through me first, if they plan to get to you.”

The rough scars along his palm steady her through the buzzing rage at the thought of any who might dare to plot against him. It is a foreign feeling to her, reserved in the past only for her children, but it is different, too. He is far more vulnerable than the two dragons she has left - he’s seen death in a way she will never understand, and he is still barely more than a stranger. But she has seen his heart behind the strength of his gaze, and she has never known anything that she wishes to fight for more than that.

More words burn on the tip of her tongue, promises of fire and blood, affirmations that his enemies are hers as well, and if it sounds in her mind like a pledge of fealty, she cares not - but before she can get them out he seems to shake himself of the fog around his mind. 

Hands still grasped tight in hers, he drops to one knee.

In the half year since they’d met, this man has at turns refused to swear his loyalty, has told her his people will not accept her, has pledged himself in word, has declared for House Targaryen in front of the rulers of Westeros despite the trouble it would cause, all for the sake of being honorable and true.

He has not, however, bent the knee.

If she is honest, she never truly expected it of him. His words meant more than most, and the action itself became unnecessary in the Dragon Pits of Kings Landing.

And now he kneels before her, no bastard of the north but the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I don’t want it,” he tells her, the sharp cadence of his voice drifting over her like a prayer. “Not the bloody throne, not the north, not the Seven Kingdoms. I’ll refuse them all, given the chance.”

“How do you suppose you’ll do that?”

“I’ll take the Black. Your uncle did it.”

He’s so adamant it’s hard not to smile, but she pushes through it. A plan has begun too form in her mind, and though it will certainly tear her from him, it will ensure their families survival.

“You’ve broken your vows to the Nights Watch before. Who is to say you wouldn’t again?” He opens his mouth, ready with a response, but Dany continues over him. “What would you protect us from? The Wildlings are already here at your invitation, living and fighting with us. And if we fail to beat the Night King, there will be no one left to protect anyway.”

“Grumpkins and snarks, then,” he tells her, and though it is surely meant to be cheeky, it does not lift her spirits. 

Or his, it seems. 

“The North will accept your rule,” she argues.

He shakes his head slowly, that lock of hair drifting lazily about his forehead once more, and she must again resist the urge to pull him to his feet, strip him of his days old clothes, and fuck him into the furs lining her floors. “I have more enemies now than I did yesterday.”

“And you will prove them wrong.”

“Your Grace -.”

“Am I your queen?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Aye, but -.”

“The I insist upon it. I demand you earn their loyalty back.”

In the silence that follows, she imagines the conversations she will have to have later. Tyrion will be furious - or pleased, she supposes. Others will fight it, and some might even respect it. She does not care.

Jon, she knows, will hate her for it, but it will make for a clean break between them. 

They will never again be able to share the shift of skin over skin, the quiet confessions beneath furs and darkness. 

“Why?” he finally asks, and Dany stares down at him for a moment, remembers the feel of his hair against her fingers, and the pucker of skin around his scars, the quiet groans against her skin, the whisper soft touch of his hands against her, the look in his eyes as he bore down into her.

Dany kneels down to meet his gaze head on, ignoring the panicked understanding she sees there. “You are the last of us. The only one left to continue our line. When we defeat the Night King, I will take the Iron Throne, but I will bear no children, and it cannot end with me.” Dany breathes deep, ignores the itch to press her forehead to his as he had done. He is a man used to touch - embraces given freely to old friends, kisses bestowed upon the foreheads of the girls he had grown up calling sisters, hands clasped with allies, this man is no stranger to touch, but Dany has avoided such contact for so long. If she begins anew with him now, she will not be able to say her piece. “You and your children will rule after me. The Targaryens survive, and the realm will have a true and just leader long after I am gone.”

He stares at her a beat, jaw rolling and then clenching before his gaze meets her steadily. He nods, and for a moment she is certain she will receive no argument.

“Fuck the Targaryens.”

Jon pushes away from her and stands, dropping her hands to run his fingers through his hair. It has the effect of turning him into a wild creature - as he paces back and forth, steady despite the drink still surely affecting him, curls spring loose from the leather strap he’d haphazardly contained them in. 

Dany stands as well, ready to fight back, to explain to him that this must be their way through this.

Jon has other ideas.

“What have the the Targaryens done for either of us? Your father burned my uncle and grandfather. My father - uncle. Another uncle died still protecting the secret of my birth because the world hated the Targaryens enough they would have wanted me dead - they wanted you dead, just like the rest. If they’d lived, what do you imagine they would have done for us? How does the saying go? When a dragon is born, the gods flip a coin.” The look he shoots her tells her he’s not certain which way either of theirs had landed. “They ruled through fear! They destroyed everything that made them great - isn’t that what you said?”

Dany tries to argue the point, getting so far as to say his name before he’s begun again. 

“The only one to survive the Baratheons other than you and me was your shit brother.” She’d told him of Viserys, one night on the ship, while they sat in her rooms and shared wine while they pretended they weren’t going to end up back in her bed. It had been easier, at the time, than talking about the dragon she’d named after him. “Is that what you want? Madness, and brutality? Family willing to sell each other off like chattel, to break vows and cast aside children?”

Dany raises her chin. “And who do you suppose will rule instead?”

“No one. Anyone. I don’t care.”

If she were a wiser woman, she’d demand it of him. But his words, harsh as they are, cut deep to the heart of the one thing she has always been most afraid of, a fear he shares, that seems now to have grown in the wake of his new knowledge. We all enjoy what we’re good at, she’d told him.

I don’t.

He was only half Targaryen, but what sort of difference could it really make? His children might be good and kind with his help, but after them? How many centuries would it take to dilute the madness out of their stock?

“I’ve had little enough reason to want to survive beyond this war.” His voice is soft, and she watches his expression shift as he stops his pacing. 

Love comes in at the eyes.

When she’d come to these shores, she’d wanted a throne, and an alliance. She’s done a horrible job with both, thus far, but now. Now she has family, and a cause to fight for. Now she has this man, this foolish hero, standing across the room from her, challenging once more everything she knows, every plan she makes.

“Don’t ask me to give up one more thing to live for.”

It’s not romantic - it’s rather bleak, truth be told. But it is true, and it is real, and from Jon, it means more than any proclamation or flowery phrase ever could.

Perhaps neither of them will survive this war. Perhaps he is right about the curse which she has always taken at face value. Perhaps another is destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms.

Perhaps. 

It matters not.

“Fine.”

He falters. He’d expected more of a fight from her - words on the tip of his tongue swallowed as she moves across the room towards him once more. 

She’s chased this man more than anything but the Iron Throne.

He leans into her touch when her hand slides across his cheek, breathing raggedly as she presses forward to graze her lips against his cheeks, one after the other. They have been passionate, and tender too, but Dany is not certain she’s ever been this gentle with anyone before. Tonight is not a night to let the fire run wild between them. 

“Why did you come here tonight?”

His hand curls around her elbow as her own slides up his arm, over his shoulder and around his neck to tug him closer. “I came to fetch Ghost.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t tell them often, and he’s terrible at it. It makes her happy, knowing that she understands him well enough to know that. She shakes her head, and he leans into her. 

“I came to bend the knee.”

“Lie,” she says, a whisper against his lips in the small space left between them.

He smiles, the bristles of his beard shifting against her skin.

“To fuck you, then.”

She hums, a low noise, her forehead rolling against his as she shakes her head one more time. 

“Because I need you,” he mutters, dragging a palm across her back, his head dipping to the side to press his lips into the hair behind her ear. “Because I want you. Because I’m yours just as much as the fucking wolf who hasn’t left your side.”

She strips him down to his smallclothes, tosses her own gown over the end of the bed, and drags him beneath the furs with her, pressing kisses to his skin, his face, his lips. She ignores the stirring in her belly - despite his claim, it wasn’t her body he came looking for tonight. It was something far more difficult for her to give, and yet, she had anyway.

“Dany,” he whispers, a promise and a challenge all in one, one last reminder that he will continue to defy her even as they find a way through this storm together. She’ll never tell him that it pleases her, but it does, all the same.

He falls into slumber with his hands still curled around her cheek, and it takes some maneuvering to free herself without waking him. She pads across the room to the door as quietly as she can, wincing when the hinges of the door squeak upon opening.

Ghost stares back at her through the darkness of the corridor, tilting his head as though in thought. Dany stares back. 

The great beast stands quietly, and then slips past her as she opens the door wider, blood red eyes watching her as she closes and relatches it before returning to her spot beside Jon, who mumbles nonsense as she settles back in and pulls the rest of his hair free of the leather strap containing it.

The direwolf drops her gaze after a moment, and settles back onto the floor at the end of the bed.

Perhaps, she thinks as she closes her eyes, in another world, things might have been different. Perhaps this was an inevitability in any world. Perhaps she merely needs an excuse for accepting this.

Perhaps.

[kiefbowl]

(CSA tw) I want to ask a q about your recent discussions of paedophilia and I mean this totally respectfully and openly. Is it true that paedophiles arent actually attracted to kids? And its entirely opportunistic? I dont disagree, I am just confused cos this is a totally new concept to me, I only ever heard ppl say that some ppl are just born attracted to kids. Obvs thats disgusting. Is that incorrect/lies? And have you got any further reading on thisI could look into? Thank you for your time.

Sorry I’m just seeing this now, but I think this is important to answer. I am going to talk about sex and rape. Yes, I think pedophiles are opportunistic abusive men. I do not think they are “sexually attracted” to children. I think many pedophiles believe they are, and I think quite a number of people now believe it’s tied up in sexual orientation, but I think those are muddled, false notions that obscure the fact that an adult sexualizing and taking sexual action with a child is always committing rape. There are so many ways to debunk the myth of the “minor attracted person” I hardly know where to begin. One very important thing to remember is that there are plenty of pedophiles who continue to have “normal” sexual relationships with adults. How many stories have we heard of fathers molesting their children while married to their mothers? How many women start dating boyfriends only to have that boyfriend abuse their child? How many people are shocked by the family man who’s a principal, preacher, football coach, of their community being exposed to sexually abusing children when they seemed so “normal” and have wives and kids themselves? These men continue to move through life in “normal” ways (and I will add a caveat here since no one can seem to read through the lines, yes women have sexually abused children. It is RAPE to sexually abuse a child as an adult woman. I have no love for women who do that. OK, back to men, the 99% of offenders).

Sexuality is a biological FUNCTION. It exists so that species can procreate. However, sexuality also exists as a basis for our pleasure and romantic interactions when speaking of humans. That’s where sexualy orientation comes in, and why you can be straight (opposite sex attracted), bisexaul (both sex attracted), or gay (same sex attracted). Also, yes I believe asexualiy, as in having no attraction (romantic and sexual) is possible and probably exists in small numbers. So there you go, sexuality is based on how adults want to fuck and love other adults, because there’s some need in us to want to partner and create more community. Child sexuality is more of a precursor to adult sexuality. Children have romantic urges, and throughout puberty begin to develop sexual urges, but there is a wide scope in which sexuality falls under. Teenagers wanting to kiss and date is not proof that “all teens have sex” which is another myth that just blows my mind. 

So where on earth does an adult being sexualy attracted to children fall into that basic simple biological urge? WHAT attracts adults to children? Is it at all comparable to how adults are attracted to other adults? 

The “what” that attracts adults to children is rape. The desire for them is the rape. Rapists 1) like to rape 2) want to rape. The lack of consent, the abuse, the pain, the grooming, the lies, the force, the power is the point of rape. Rape is not “accidental” or “grey” sex. Rape is using your body as a weapon, making sexuality violent. So pedophiles who are “attracted” to children are actually attracted to rape. Because they are rapists. And rape is not a sexuality. Children cannot consent. Many people who are “tolerant” of pedophilia will bend over backwards trying to argue how children might be able to, or can consent, or have free will or whatever bullshit. But the truth is no child can ask for the sexaul acts of adults without being given the idea, and that idea comes from grooming. No child can consent to, for example, fellatio because most children aren’t aware of what that is. And children don’t usually find the act appealing when learning. They have to be told that adults do it, that pleasure can come from it, that it can be a loving action. And they are usually told this by rapist adults looking to rape them. Because the rapist knows it’s rape and knows that the child will believe them. The adult is aware of his higher understanding, and he knows the child knows nothing compared to him. And he likes that because that means he can commit rape, which he wants to do. That’s what makes him a rapist. 

People who claim to be “non-offending maps” or whatever the fuck reveal the truth of this by claiming to be non-offending to begin with. Like, if it was just a disorder, just an illness, why would you need to try to be non-offending? How disgusting that is to say to CSA survivors and the mentally ill. How terrible it is to set up a defense for these men. I was non-offending but then the illness got me and I offended, it wasn’t me it was my illness, I just couldn’t help it. OH WELL THEN. They are minor attracted but then “don’t offend,” so then what makes them minor attracted? Are you admitting to fantasizing about raping children? And I’m supposed to believe that’s fine? I would never touch a child, but I will masturbate to the thought of violating one and then leave the house and exist in the world? FUCK THEM. They don’t accidentally offend, and they don’t not offend.

So, why do they exist? They exist because of male supremacy. Like any rape, they are exerting the power they have to rape. Children suffer under patriarchy and industrialization. They are things to own, status bringers, future soldiers and laborers. The father is the head of the household and can do whatever he wants. Children and women are at the mercy of men. So what do men do, to celebrate and keep it that way? They rape them. That’s why rape exists. 

Is misogyny a disorder? Is marital rape a sexuality? NOPE. 

Rapist want to rape. Pedophiles are rapists who want to rape children. Any attraction they feel is the attraction to power they have over children because of the supremacy they live in. And that’s that.

[thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny]

My responses to some Dumbledore hating douche on another forum. His comments and the comments of the Dumbledore fan he was replying to are in bold, mine are in italics. I added on some things to my responses as I was typing from here, but it’s mostly copied from my reply on that other forum. Y’all, this guy’s quotes about Dumbledore literally pissed me off so much I couldn’t let it slide bro, I just couldn’t. Now this isn’t all of that person’s post but it is everything I responded to. WARNING, SUPER LONG POST!

Dumbledore made it quite clear that Harry was to grow up without magic.

He had no legal or moral authority to make that decision. Magic was part of Harry's heritage and DD had no right to keep it from him (or any other magical).

He didn’t keep it from him though, he found out when he was eleven like any other Muggle-born. Anyway it’s GOOD Harry didn’t know or we’d have an Obscurial on our hands. And here we go, talking about morals again

.He stressed how important it was to keep Harry away from magic and shield him from the fame that he would have received.

Didn't do much good now did it. He still received a ton of fame (even is Surrey, as evidenced by the wizard to bowed to him in a shop) and was ill prepared to deal with it because he spent his formative years in Durzkaban. Placing him with a good wizarding family would have helped him deal with his fame.

Yeah, and placing him with a “good wizarding family” would’ve helped Harry’s ass DIE a lot quicker too. Durzkaban? Who came up with that.

There were good intentions behind dropping him off at the Dursley's doorstep.

If you believe that, you'll believe any line of bull. DD was conditioning his child soldier cum martyr by keeping him isolated, unloved, and actively abused. That way he wouldn't form deep attachments that would prevent him from eating an AK on command.

Congratulations DD, you're an ISIS/cult leader.

NO THE FUCK HE ISN’T! AND THIS THEORY NEEDS TO DIE!  We have literally no evidence to support this, none at all. We have no evidence to prove that Dumbledore wanted Harry to be abused. However, we DO have ample evidence that the blood protection exists, Quirrellmort, Voldemort taking his blood, the protection shielding everyone during the Battle, and not to mention Harry coming back to life. And no deep attachments, honestly? Sirius, Remus, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, the Weasley family. Need I go on? Anyway that would be dumb because Harry knows who put him at the Dursleys. He could've hated Dumbledore just as easily.

And I think you misread my post, I never said there were no negative effects on Harry, because of course there are. I was merely making a point that the Dursley's treatment really helped prepare him for the next five years of isolation and cruelty. You can't deny that.

I can and do deny that. Aside from it being morally wrong and criminal to knowingly place a child in an abusive environment, it was abysmally stuipid. Voldemort grew up in almost the same sort of environment (thanks to DD at that) and look how he turned out. Dumb-as-a-door risked creating another Dark Lord rather than a Savior/martyr

Now I do deny that abuse=preparation. But everything else, hell no!  Voldemort wasn't abused though! He wasn't, and I don't know where people are getting this from because nothing in the books suggests that he was. Also it wouldn't be Dumbledore's fault anyway even if he was, because he wasn't headmaster at the time so he wasn't the one sending him back.

Wait a minute, are you comparing these people (terrorists) to Dumbledore?

Absolutely.

Adolf Hitler wiped out millions of Jews. He was a racist.

So was DD. He came from a racist family (per his history) and was the lover of the magical Hitler (Grindlewald). DD's favorite phrase was in fact coined by Grindlewald. The only difference between them is that Grindlewald advocated direct violence and brute force while DD favors manipulation as a weapon. BOTH wanted dictatorial rule.

He hated the Jews and blamed everything on them. Saddam Hussein executed loads of people because he believed he had to rule with an iron fist. Al Qaeda is an extremist group who has extremist ideas in the name of religion.

Again, manipulation vs direct violence. Same end result: a world under the rule of HIS idea of how things should be.

Dumbledore did NOT come from a racist family! His mother was a Muggle-born, and his father only attacked those Muggles because they permanently traumatized his daughter. Completely justified in my opinion. And Dumbledore WAS in love with Grindelwald but they weren't LOVERS, JKR says this. Just because you love somebody doesn't mean you're like them. And just because your family was racist doesn’t mean you are! Sirius, anybody?! It wasn't Dumbledore's favorite phrase, Dumbledore didn't use that phrase once in the series, not once. Only in a letter written a hundred years ago. And yeah, Dumbledore wanted to rule the world as a young man but he didn't try to take over the world since then, he had a hundred years and could've done it but he didn't so I think that speaks for him. He didn't even really manipulate people, it's not like he took away their free will. Yeah he was manipulative but in the end the choices were theirs.

I don't even have to say why comparing Dumbledore to the terrorists is totally and completely wrong. They did it because they wanted to remake the world in their own image or gain power, Dumbledore did what he did to, I dunno...STOP PEOPLE FROM BEING MASS MURDERED! So whatever manipulation he supposedly used as a weapon, I really don't care about. It worked didn't it? 

Yes, sometimes he did things and made decisions there weren't morally right.

"Sometimes" as in all the time.

No bitch, he did ONE really morally questionable thing and that was leaving Harry with the Dursleys.

Yes, he lied to Harry.

And abused him by sending him to Durzkaban. And kept him isolated and alone to psychologically break him to he would martyr himself. And a host of other things. And that's just Harry. He betrayed the entire Order by posting them as guards at the Ministry over a prophecy which could only be removed by either Harry or Voldemort and which therefore did not need guarding.

And lets not forget not doing anything to help Sirius, either before he escaped prison or afterwards. Or never actually doing anything to help the wizarding underclass (muggleborn, werewolves, house elves, et). Refusing to act for the genuine good where action is needed is just as bad as doing bad acts.

I already explained why the whole psychological thing is complete and utter bullshit.  Never mind that JK Rowling herself says that he used his power to try to better conditions for the marginalized, Hermione has said it and so have several people. He helped Hagrid, Remus, Dobby and others when he didn't even have to. He tried to keep Sirius safe in his old house, I think that's helping him. And no it's not! Just because somebody can't stop a bad situation doesn't make them the same as the one causing it. I already explained why the abuse theory is wrong, again we have no proof of this.

But he did struggle with those things.

So he claims, if you believe him. As many lies as he told I wouldn't believe him if he told me the time without checking a clock fir

Where are all these lies he supposedly told? Hm? Where? Assuming that every word somebody says is a lie is called paranoia.

I find that sometimes in order to be a good leader, you have to be shrewd.

That's a synonym for "abusive manipulation" I've never seen before.

No, it’s not. Being shrewd is not the same as abuse. Again, paranoia.

But it says NOTHING of who you are. Neither does it define you.

On the contrary, it says a great deal about who you are.

And whatever wrong he did do, he regretted them.

Well bully for him. Doesn't bring back the dead or undo all the evil things he did.

He wanted to keep the wizarding world safe and the people alive.

The ends do not justify the means

"The ends do not justify the means." They totally do. In my opinion, if the whole entire freaking world is in danger and everyone is going to be wiped out, you do what you have to do to stop it. Morals be damned. Dumbledore was the perfect commander, the only really morally questionable he did was the Dursleys and that's already been explained. Because morality doesn't mean shit if you're not alive to act on those morals. What's the most immoral thing, letting millions of people die, or getting your hands a little dirty? I know which one I'm thinking. When stopping mass genocide, morals don't matter. You don't have time to think about what's the most moral thing to do, it's a matter of life or death. "Doesn't bring back the dead?" The dead aren't Dumbledore's responsibility and there weren't even that many of them. Also what are all these evil acts he supposedly committed? Dumbledore isn't some evil monster, far from it. JKR didn't even write him that way. People just tend to exaggerate what he supposedly did to make him worse looking, but I don't buy it. You claim that he lies constantly, what's the proof? Dumbledore doesn't lie that much. We have no reason to believe he's lying and just assuming that every word somebody utters is a lie is paranoia. Now we all have our different opinions, but almost all of this has no evidence to back it up.

[avoresmith]

@bigyepper​ put metal gear on my dash and I was reminded all I ever want to do is talk about metal gear.

so here are some RANDOM METAL GEAR THOUGHTS/PROBABLY UNPOPULAR OPINIONS BUT WHATEV

spoilers for whole series!!! stop reading if you care about that shit!!!

Eli basically fits the profile of a child soldier. As in, raised from a very young age indoctrinated to a specific world view that encourages violence and strength and loyalty. But not so stupid that he can’t engage with the world outside this view. Rather, when people show him kindness he has been taught to perceive it as either attempted manipulation or disrespect (because it implies he is weak enough to need it). There is no one in thei game remotely equiped to help Eli, and everyone who tries only makes it worse because they think of him as a kid instead of a dangerous enemy combatant (which he absolutely IS and the game TREATS him as such and he treats HIMSELF as such). 

This also fits perfectly with what we know of Paz’s background, and while Paz wasn’t really 16, her ‘education’ probably began fairly young (tho older than Eli I would think, she seems to have a better grasp on the potential for a normal life).

So basically. Zero just has a history of raising children to be fucked up murder tools is what I’m saying.

to that end, I kind of think the Las Enfantes Terribles project was Zero tried to create the Perfect Soldier via his manipulation bullshit network, fucked up in some way (or someone deliberately fucked it up, since as seen by Skullface Zero doesn’t actually have eyes on everything), so we get Eli, the Better Twin, raised by the Patriots, and then David just sort of dumped into America, kept track of but not deliberately constructed for a specific purpose.

I’ve never really interacted much with the deeper fandom on MGS tbh, but lately it kind of weirds me out that ‘Otacon is definitely a sexist creeper who co-opts the death of women around him into plot elements for his Big Deal Hero Story’ is not a meme that seems to come out of this fandom. Like. He does this CONSTANTLY, and okay at least with Emma and Naomi we can claim a certain amount of relationship there. Though his obsession with Naomi, who he barely knows, is certainly ALSO creeper behavior. But Wolf?? She gave half a shit about him and his response to her death is to treat it like a hurdle in his personal growth whereupon he is now ready to undergo the Figure Out How To Love Again stage of his personal anime fantasy. It’s creepy as fuck. And yes, it’s not how the narrative is intended to be taken but when did we ever let that stop us?  According to the NARRATIVE, Rose is a flawless and caring girlfriend that Raiden is lucky to have (MORE ON THAT LATER). In point of fact Otacon is an entitled weaboo creep who if told Wolf was gay would probably regret having woke up that morning.

WHICH. I am COMPLETELY FINE WITH. It’s good character shit! It fits REALLY WELL with his connection to Huey who is one of the best portrayals of an abuser I’ve ever seen. He grew up with an entitled asshole dad it is no surprise that Otacon, growing up media that ALSO loves to portray and reinforce those entitlements, would also come to see women primarily as actors in the dramatic story of his life.

OKAY ON THE SUBJECT OR ROSE. DO YOU KNOW WHO IS THE BEST? ROSE IS. The girl who got everything she wanted in life with no exceptions! Who was raised by and single handledly manipulated her way out of the thumb of the patriots! Who manipulated her boyfriend into being completely devoted to her, had his son, lied about his death, drove him to alcohol abuse, faked breaking up and moving in with another man. The Patriots have a lot and IMMEDIATE history of stealing babies to manipulate events and she just noped the right fuck out of that and encouraged key players from the sidelines until the bodies that governed her entire life were turned to dust then slid back in with a cute little ‘I lied, =)’ and regained her perfect idyllic family with her hot cyborg badass husband. NAME A SINGLE MGS CHARACTER WHO MORE GOT EVERYTHING THEY EVER WANTED THAN ROSE DID. NO ONE. ROSE GOT EVERYTHING SHE WANTED AND SACRIFICED SHIT (*due to being too crazy to consider the severe psychological harm she did to Raiden as much of a ‘sacrifice’).

Like if Ocelot had dreamed of a happy marriage to a total badass with a kid and a successful career instead of destroying the structures that govern the world to reduce society to a lawless wild west anarchy where his bae would be the biggest badass around, he would basically just have been Rose.

So yea obvs Rose was unironically intended to be a good portrayal of a capable woman in a loving relationship or something. Whatever. I don’t care. Kojima is a sexist trashfire. Correct.

What I’m saying is my love for Rose also makes me want to go down armless and screaming under a beached submarine adorned with the faces of my father figures.

I am STRONGLY of the opinion that Ocelot manipulated Big Boss into abandoning Kaz. In the Truth tapes Ocelot VERY MUCH makes it sound like Kaz is basically aware of and onboard with the general plan, and the ‘plan’ explained to BB is to replace him with a Phantom so he can disappear off of Zero’s radar. So BB has been in a coma for 9 fucking years and when he wakes up the two people most loyal to him in the entire world have been conspiring to do the nearly impossible and make him invisible to the hyper vigilant spy network that manipulates events worldwide. Who the fuck is he to be like ‘nah?’ While ostensibly The Boss, BB has always been heavily guided and influenced by others and fairly amoral. That’s how Kaz was able to manipulate him into starting MSF, even though BB grumbled constantly about having no particular desire to do anything that grandiose. He doesn’t respond heavily to ethics but he responds to empathy (which is why Zero and Kaz use Paz to manipulate him) and REALLY RESPONDS to personal responsibility (why he clings so hard to the Boss but abandons her when he perceives she has abandoned him and all LIKE him, I.E. all of MSF).

So while he is definitely still responsible for Venom, it’s not really any more so than Zero, Ocelot, and Kaz, all of whom knowingly used him.

When Ocelot lights BB’s cigar and sends him off, he has Kaz’s glasses in his pocket ;D He was fully aware Kaz was captured and being tortured and says N O T H I N G, and he KNOWS what effect it would have because he USES IT TO MANIPULATE VENOM. The very fact that this information would motivate Big Boss to save Kaz is pretty undeniable in light of the fact that it is used to manipulate a dude brainwashed into THINKING he’s Big Boss.

What im saying is Ocelot broke up their marriage on purpose and I love him?? Im telling u Ocelot and Rose are soultwins.

I think it is charming that Ocelot likes to pretend that he is not a crazy joyful sadist, but I also like to imagine that he got his reputation as an amazing interrogator by just torturing people for funsies, then pulling out information he already had due to being a super spy.

I headcanon that Kaz’s daughter, Catherine, was an adopted war orphan who he left behind a sizable inheritance of dirty war money which she uses to start an Anti-PMC PMC corp, and fueled by a desire to unravel the war economy her father, if not created, put on a fucking steroids, she funds Raiden in his efforts to murder a shitload of PMC CEOs in Metal Gear Rising 2, the game I will never get because Konami is terrible