#in honour of this horrific fucking change

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Oh, no! Do hit him! Hit him some more!

No sympathy for rapists and human traffickers getting a piece of what they deserve, especially when they get them on something they are definitely guilty of.

Unfortunately, it's only a matter of time before Gu Tingye gets their rotten asses out of prison, so I appreciate at least the beating.

***

LMAO, it couldn't have happened to a nicer bunch of assholes 😂

Honestly, Tingye should just let them rot.

***

LMAO, since he is so precious, how is he going to run the Gu House, if your scheming comes to fruition, hmm?

He sounds too incompetent to live.

***

LMAO, at least Gu Tingyu is owning up to his jackassery.

He certainly is his father's son, waiting until he was on his deathbed to regret a lifetime of abusing his brother for no good reason.

Fuck this entire family. Gu Tingye should let the Emperor exile and execute them all (not that the Emperor would do it because he seems invested in preserving the honour of the entire Gu family for whatever reason).

***

LMAO, don't you mean you wanted to spend it yourselves? 🤣

The audacity of these thieving pieces of shit!

***

Oh, fuck you.

You haven't been a small child for a long time and instead of using your brain and thinking for yourself for one single second, you decided to ostracize, bully and abuse your younger brother FOR YEARS.

We saw the horrific scars on Tingye's body. You all saw this was happening to him and gloated about it. And even if Madam Bai had been responsible for the first Madam Qin's death (which you would know she was not if you had half a brain cell), the tiny child she left behind was innocent.

I hate all these people and feel like they all deserve to die unforgiven, in shame and ignominy.

***

The nerve of him, asking Gu Tingye to treat his wife and child better than he treated him.

He's just lucky Gu Tingye is a much better person than his sorry ass and would never take out grudges on innocent children.

***

LMAO, the absolute nerve.

Of course, adopt the illegitimate child of her own son!

Luckily, Gu Tingyu has finally pulled his head out from his ass and realised that even after all the shit he put Gu Tingye through, he will still treat his daughter better than Madam Qin.

***

Poor kid.

She seems smarter than her mother at the very least and maybe with Minglan's help, she can go on to have a not too terrible life.

***

Honestly, fuck Gu Tingyu.

He allowed himself to be manipulated into being a tool for evil people's ambition and greed and actively took part in bullying and abusing a child for other people's benefit. Even after he became the Marquis, he allowed his clan to descend further into corruption and degeneracy just so that he could continue to scapegoat his brother for no good reason. He was such a weak, petty man, and even when the single solitary lightbulb finally went off in his stupid head allowing him to see Madam Qin for the greedy, manipulative, vicious piece of shit that she is, he still continued to hang onto his single-minded jealousy and resentment. He was perfectly content to continue waging a cold war against Gu Tingye for years and years to come and only backtracked when he realised he was dying and would leave his very young child unprotected in this hellhole that he'd personally had a hand in creating for so many years and at the mercy of monsters he'd happily rolled about in the mud with if it meant victimising his younger brother who had loved and looked up to him.

Anyway, good riddance to bad rubbish. His daughter is better off with Gu Tingye and Minglan anyway and he certainly contributed to nothing good in his lifetime. He regretted nothing and only changed his tune because he knew that if he left his daughter at the mercy of Madam Qin, her life would be completely ruined. I hope he finds no peace in the afterlife, right along with his piece of shit abusive father.

***

OH FUCK YOUUUUUUUU 🤬🤬

I absolutely detest him.

[rockbottomwithashovel]

In Honour of Invasion Day <3 (/sarc)

I would like to be proud of my country. I want to celebrate the culture of mateship, siding with the underdog, telling the pollies to piss off and multicultural diversity... but how can I??

How can I be proud of my country when the day we celebrate the country is the very day that this nation got stolen from the 'traditional owners'. There's already a problem with that term, see, a lot of Aboriginal people (First Nation Aussies and Islanders) see it as they belong to the land, not vice versa. I would like to appreciate Kevin Rudd's apology speech back in 2008, but not much changed, so where's the apology in that??

The people who's land I am currently writing this on deserve better than being seen as "lesser". What people don't realize is that the racism in this country is far from gone. Did you know that the stolen generation legislation didn't stop being a thing until 1969? Sounds a long time ago, right? That was only 55 years ago. My mother is older than that. Let that sink in. There are 55 year old men and women out there who were stolen from their families and given to white people for some wankery of an excuse "so they can have a better life" more like so they can be "civilized" and assimilated to our culture which we deem correct and anyone who stands in the face gets murdered, thrown in jail or worse.

I would love to celebrate, crack open a tinny, play some cricket and sing waltzing fucking matilda but that's not right. I have no rights to celebrate when fellow Australians have little rights in general and are being put in jail left and right, beaten to a pulp and left to die in prisons. And of course their deaths get covered up. The police brutality in Australia is horrific because it's insidious (I'm about to write another post about this with statistics, so stay tuned). A lot of cops around here will let you off with a warning, chilled out... but that's my experience. As a white girl who can cry tears at her "mistakes". I remember once I talked myself out of a $200 on the spot fine for sneaking onto a train, said I lost my ticket and fake cried over it (shitty move, right? But to be fair, I couldn't afford the train ticket, let alone a fine). The officers were nice, gave me a warning. But how nice would they have been if I weren't white? I'd probably have been taken in to the station even if I genuinely had been crying, bought a ticket, and lost it.

There is so much fucking racism in this country. I remember being 10, disgusted as the class threw the new, Aboriginal kid under the bus for a missing toy in the class room. He didn't steal it. We found it months later. But the hell he got as the students and teachers blamed him for it? He moved schools (Darren, if you're reading this, I'm so fucking sorry for not doing more). This system is against them. And my country, my people, have the nerve to celebrate this culture on the day that marked genocide of people who were perfectly happy just living??

Sometimes I hate being white. It's an unfair advantage and I don't want anything to do with those colonizing aka land stealing genocidal bastards, but what the fuck is the point in having this privilege if I don't use it? If Indigenous people aren't getting heard then I'll stand with them, maybe this racist system will listen to a white girl.

(Final note, you're not punk if you don't fight the system, you're a poser, if you don't stand up for people who are dying you're an asshole, if you're part of a minority and let other minorities get squashes what the fuck is wrong with you, and last but not least, if you don't have an opinion on things like this, you might want to check your privilege.)

[cangrellesteponme]

I've thought about it so much I came to the conclusion BOTH Sebastian and Claude are two different types of autistic demons, and maybe it's rare in demons so BOTH these guys are weirdos among their own kind. IT ALL MAKES SENSE.

my autistic ass agrees. so I must elaborate.

(for the sake of this, we're putting aside the fact that this hc is completely incompatible with any and all things canon.)

first, reasons they're autistic:

they're very bad at pretending to be human. you'd think millennia spent observing humans would help them suck a little bit less, but they really don't understand human behaviour at all. (just like me fr)

weird humans special interest.

repeating the same phrases a lot. this one gets two autism points because it's both scripting and a vocal stim. like, I know damn well these hoes just love saying their "yes my lord" "yes your highness" bs and their butler mottos.

butler cosplay.

low empathy. (I know that's a controversial one because it's not as common as allistics think it is, but I'm not about to go on a tangent about undesirable autistic traits and ableism) this one is not enough on its own because... why would a demon feel empathy for a human when that's a whole different species, but some people feel bad for bugs so I'm taking this as these demon butlers presenting yet another autistic trait!

picky eaters. like... seb would rather starve than eat bad food. that is autistic behaviour.

being very specific about phrasing. people never focus on what is said, but rather on what it means... unless they're autistic. (we see hannah be normal about words all the time so we can assume it's really just claude and sebastian who love being way too precise.) also seb did pretend to misinterpret o!ciel's words during the contract negotiation just to force the kid to always be direct and literal with his orders - that is peak autistic behaviour. as for claude... there are so many different instances of this in kuro 2, but him not having a clear contract with alois is another example of "you better be precise or shit will happen to you".

weirdos. pathetic loners. probably got bullied by other demons smh.

I can only think of claude examples for this one but I'm sure there are a few for seb: unmasking and being really fucking weird. think of the knitting, the disney princess shit, the tap dancing, being a weird ass spider, licking blood...

both preferring a much smaller amount of servants than what is socially acceptable.

being naturally fucking terrifying. they are autism creatures in the most horrific sense. we have the spider guy with the long tongue and the dude who's mostly black goop with teeth.

there are plenty of other reasons, but these are the most obvious ones they have in common.

them being autistic in two different ways:

flat affect vs way too dramatic. claude won't be caught dead emoting like a normal person, sebastian constantly looks deeply offended or amused by everything he sees... two very different behaviours. both autistics.

attachment to objects and animals. so, about the empathy thing, plenty of autistic people who would be categorised as low-empathy are the type to love animals and apologise to furniture - that's seb. the rest don't give a single fuck about anyone or anything - that's claude.

visual stimulation is superior vs no thoughts only tactile stim. this is me projecting and saying every autistic bitch with glasses likes wearing them a little too much but I'd say claude clearly cares a lot about colours (constantly changing everything at the trancy manor... I see how it is) while we have sebastian who likes petting cats, cares about the fine fabric of his coat enough to talk about it in the middle of a fight, is horrified when tea is poured on his hands... very stimmy demons.

ANYWAY

they're autistic, your honour.

[zaddyazula]

i’m a pretty hardcore zuko redemption arc stan, but my time on tumblr and rewatching the show has really shown me a lot of problems with it.

i know this is a pretty big topic on atla tumblr, so i thought why don’t i shove my opinion in everyone else’s face :).

first of all, my belief of a redemption arc is when somebody redeems themself by changing their actions and ideologies. zuko does a lot for the whole actions part of it, but ultimately nothing to challenge the xenophobic, imperialistic ideology that he has been brought up to believe, as well as the belief that the fire nation royals are better than anyone else.

sure, zuko says he lost himself a lot, but he never mentions anything about his previous beliefs, which can be seen regularly through the first two seasons, particularly season 1. constantly calling katara a peasant; calling others filth: the list goes on and on for all the occasions he has displayed some sort of belief of superiority towards others.

yes, he freed appa; yes, he went to rescue hakoda and suki; yes, he went with katara to get revenge on yon rha - it doesn’t mean anything if nothing has changed in his mind.

he can help them all he wants, but if he still has the ideology of a racist, xenophobic and classist prince, what is the difference between banished zuko and fire lord zuko?

[side note: obviously, by the end of the show, zuko doesn’t share the beliefs that his father and sister held, but you can see him demonstrate them very clearly in some of his flashbacks and a majority of season 1.]

take this horrific analogy: if someone you hate (and i mean absolutely fucking despise) goes out of their way to help you and try to reconcile with you, and you do so but still hate them with your entire fucking soul and nothing you thought about them has changed - then what is even the point of reconciling? if your ideologies have not changed, in my book, it doesn’t matter what you do, if you save their life, whatever other bullshit you could do for them, then you can’t redeem yourself.

imagine being in some sick blood feud, but you guys decide not to fight anymore, what fucking progression is there if one of you then goes: “by the way, i really fucking hate you. i also killed your entire family. :)” there’s none. nothing changes except for the fact one person’s entire family is dead.

an example of a good redemption arc (it’s literally in the name of the game) is one of my all time favourite character’s from one of my all time favourite pieces of fiction: (high honour) arthur morgan from red dead redemption 2.

to summarise (minor spoilers): arthur is in a (cowboy!!!) gang in 1899, who are constantly running from the law. arthur ends up contracting tuberculosis from a man he kills, which leads him onto his path of redemption. he (if the player chooses to go high honour) begins to help people and reflects on his actions. not only does arthur change his actions, but he actually changes ideologies. he stops believing that he can throw his life away, and that there is no point in trying to do anything good when he’s already done so many bad things. arthur goes through a complete (!!!) metamorphosis, actually feeling compassion for people and wanting to save them from mr. i have a plan (the leader of the gang).

arthur is an absolutely incredible example of a redemption arc: it’s literally the point of the game (unless you’re a low honour player. i don’t know how you can do that. you’re superhumans). he changes his actions, his relationships and his ideologies with the help of people he meets along the way.

the same can mostly be said for zuko, and i’m not saying zuko hadn’t changed his ideology by the series finale, my issue is more the fact that it’s never addressed. once. not even a single time (i finished watching the show again today, may have bawled my eyes out) is anything about what he was taught to believe mentioned, let alone worked on.

the belief that the fire nation royals are superior is shown through azula pretty much any time we see her, and ozai a majority of his onscreen appearances.

hell, even the belief that the fire nation is superior to the other nations is shown in the s3 episode where aang goes to the fire nation school. throughout the show, we are constantly shown that the fire nation believe they are better than everyone else, but not once is zuko challenged for it, even by little miss zuko hater, katara. not once is anyone challenged for it, except for if you count the whole “the air nomads never had an army” from aang, but for me, that doesn’t really count.

don’t get me wrong, zuko is my favourite character in the show, if not one of my favourite characters ever, but this whole ‘the best ever redemption arc’ bullshit needs to stop. yes, it’s a good redemption arc, but it lacks the awareness that comes with realising that you need to repent for not only your actions, but your beliefs. redemption arcs like arthur morgan’s show the progression of the character; obviously there’s a difference between being the main character of an 100gb game and being one of the main characters in a kid’s show, but they still managed to get a redemption arc in for him. what they didn’t manage, however, was challenging zuko’s past beliefs.

you cannot become a better person by ignoring the ideals that shaped you to be that horrible person.

you must challenge them. you must face them.

so, in my opinion, despite how much i love it, despite how much i want to crown it the best redemption arc of all time, i just can’t. until zuko challenges his ideals ON SCREEN (which’ll be never), then i can’t give it the honour (i’m so funny).

don’t even get me started on the redemption arc azula should’ve had, because that’s even more bullshit to deal with.

damn this took ages to write.

[cascadiums]

We're nearing the point where I really start to struggle with Lucy's story. I don't know if it's because Stoker was really good at writing harrowing things or if he was horrible at it, or if it's a third thing about how I approach stories, but it doesn't do it for me (under a cut for new readers who want to avoid spoilers, and because this is going to be a bit of a heavy one)

Lucy is a very kind, sweet girl who suffers terribly, and when she is killed, she is mutilated on a spiritual level. And then the ones who love her best prove their devotion by destroying her. That's the kindest thing they can do. She isn't Lucy anymore and they honour her by killing the thing that was left behind.

It's a horrific tragedy and really heartbreaking to read when you're sympathising with the ones who lost her. My issue is that the implications I see beyond that are really depressing.

Lucy goes through hell. Whether you read that literally as becoming prey to an evil creature, or through the subtext of her assault by a predatory stranger, Lucy suffers a traumatic experience and it changes her. Her sweetness and innocence (I noticed Bram Stoker used words like childlike for her a lot) is gone and she becomes dark and frightening. She is corrupted by the Count. I have a problem with this. Lucy had no choice, she had no escape, and falls from grace anyway.

And then Bram Stoker tells us that she's grateful to Van Helsing in her dying moments for protecting Arthur from what she is becoming? That it's a kindness to mutilate her body after everything else? Yes, it's very noble and tragic but fuck that. Lucy got a shitty deal. She's punished for being a victim and she's punished for being 'redeemed'. Lucy doesn't need to be redeemed, she isn't guilty of anything.

The Lucy we are going to see from hereon in, the mutilated, corrupted Fallen Woman, upsets me in a way that doesn't feel like good horror. I tried to separate it in my head into Lucy and 'the thing that isn't Lucy anymore' but honestly that feels worse, it feels like justification. I don't want to accept a story of the mercy-killing of a woman who is made impure by the violence she is subjected to.

I don't have a solution for this. I can't see a way to frame this part of the story that isn't repulsive to me. There is no kind ending for her, no peace that doesn't come at the hands of more men manipulating her body as they see fit.

In my head, I imagine a Lucy who was allowed to explore her immortality, to get to know her sharp teeth. One who had the time to fit herself back together, to learn how to live as gentle girl and monster together. The living characters in Dracula want her as a sweet, lovely corpse, and the dead want her to lose all sense of self, but she never gets the chance to become herself beyond the suffering. The horror changed her, and I wish we had a story where that could have been okay.

[what-is-originality]

thoughts on House of the Dragon ep. 2, from a casual fan.

OK, this is by no means a groundbreaking opinion, but I'm definitely very sympathetic towards Alicent Hightower atm because I do feel like she's being used as a pawn by her father & I don't think she's relishing in the spectacle at all, especially considering the fallout with Rhaenyra that’s bound to follow.

I think by ep. 3 she'll have grown into herself more as a character, and will be a little less anxious since she'll have more agency as the Queen/mother of Viserys' heirs and will hopefully have some say against her father, too. Naturally, being at odds with Rhaenyra & having children of her own will create a *huge* rift between them as she'll eventually have to put the interests of her family above their friendship and will grow into more of a scheme-y character like her father, but I can't really begrudge her that – after all, there's no going back from fucking your best friend's dad lol.

I think the breakdown of R & A's homoerotic friendship is so interesting too because it adds an additional layer of complexity to the story by fleshing out her character’s background a bit more and making her more than just an 'evil stepmother' trope.

Like, the first two episodes have made it apparent that she’s being groomed by her father and, as a result, is essentially being moulded into a villain by Otto (who’s aided of course by the show’s contemporary political climate which sets a precedent for women – girls, really –  to be used as bargaining chips by way of marriage and for men to seek honour and glory as cannon fodder soldiers etc.) because he’s essentially tying her hands by making her ingratiate herself to Viserys, regardless of all of the interpersonal fallout it will result in.

Inevitably, as her brood grows, Alicent’ will want to protect her family/line by any means necessary, even if it means committing horrific acts and going against her former best friend to secure her bloodline. I definitely think it will get to a boiling point where something happens that’s potentially so extreme that there’ll be no going back for the two because should they "wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er".

On the other hand, I don't think she'll be entirely 'innocent' by the time the conflict between the 'Greens' and the 'Blacks' is well underway, because she'll get a taste of the power she never had before her betrothal & lose sight of the parts of herself she'd been manipulated as a child into believing were weak.

Now, I don't think she'll be so blinded by power that she won't be aware that some of the things she'll do are outright wrong, but she'll do them anyway to keep herself from being as powerless as she once was or even just to stick it to Rhaenrys out of spite, which is always a motivator. Either way, I'd love to see some regretful scenes with the two at some point, maybe a lingering glance between the two (or even just a pause when one finds a trinket that the other had gifted them in childhood, something like that) that conveys that they're both sad about how things turned out and wish they could turn back the hands of time but ultimately know that it’s too late to change it now.

 [* = As stated in the title, I am just a casual fan of both shows. I haven’t rewatched GoT since it ended and I only got up to A Storm of Swords in the asoiaf series. I have not read Fire & Blood past the stories of King Aegon I, though I do have some knowledge what will happen in the story, so this is essentially a blind opinion on the story so far as depicted by the show. However, I do have a soft spot for characters that are deeply hated by fans, especially female characters, so this tweet essentially sums the post up:

[tinky-dinky]

Your takes on Lyanna are objectively correct and her actions did set up what would be the eventual War of the Five Kings lol. The fact that there is pushback on this from those Lyanna apologists is hilarious to me as it is objectively what happened. She gets treated with such kid gloves by fandom it drives me crazy. The only characterization we have of her is her bitching how she doesn't want to marry Robert because he can't 'stick to one bed' and has a bastard child already and then she runs off with the married crown prince who has a true wife and two trueborn children at home. The fact that she died as a result of giving birth to her bastard affair baby after bitching about Robert's bastard is one of the more hilarious examples of karmic justice in the books lol.

100% agreed with you, my dear nonnie.

The fandom doesn’t hold Lyanna accountable for her decisions and actions because she’s a child….and yet the Stark children are all held accountable for their actions, despite all being younger than Lyanna.

I haven’t seen a single person say Robb isn’t to blame for the consequences of his decision to marry Jeyne because he’s a child. He’s a year, maybe two, younger than Lyanna.

I see a lot of people demonise Robert pre-Rebellion, and it seriously irritates me. Before the rebellion- so when Lyanna was complaining about him sleeping around and fathering bastards- he had one bastard, Mya Stone. Who was born somewhere around a year after Robert watched his parents die. If you factor in travel time from the Stormlands to the Vale, it seems Robert left the Stormlands as soon as he could and almost immediately fathered Mya. Given he later takes to drinking and whoring to bury his pain and grief over Lyanna, is it not possible he was doing the same with his pain and grief for his parents?

Another insane thing about the fandom I’ve seen is people excusing that show!Lyanna named her son Aegon, seemingly to replace Rhaegar’s literally just brutally murdered baby of the same name. Rhaegar gets blamed for this, even though he was dead. And had been dead for some time. There was no reason for Lyanna to stick with his name choice unless she agreed with it. Which, given she also agreed to marry Rhaegar in and hide out in the kingdom his wife was from (jesus christ poor Elia could these two have been bigger assholes?!), does not seem out of character. But that is show!Lyanna of course.

I’ve seen suggestions that Lyanna will name Jon a northern name (begging the question of why, then, Ned would change it?). Like Brandon, to honour her brother. The one who died a horrific death directly because of her choice to run off with the married prince. Delightful.

As for the subject of the War of the Five Kings, I feel the need to clarify as one idiot did claim I blamed Lyanna directly for it, when I did not and do not. I do blame her (and Rhaegar) for the Rebellion, the ramifications of which led to the WOFK, those being:

- No ‘kidnapping’, no dead Rickard and Brandon, meaning either Rickard or Brandon would be Lord of Winterfell and Brandon would be married to Catelyn, not Ned. This, of course, changes things dramatically.

- No Rebellion, no King Robert, no forced marriage to Cersei. Robert doesn’t father a billion bastards and isn’t murdered. Cersei…may well still have twincest bastards but wouldn’t be queen, wouldn’t put one of said twincest bastards on the throne, no execution of Ned.

- No Rebellion, no dead Elbert and Denys Arryn, no marriage between Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully, no manipulations via Baelish. Without Lysa to convince Jon to elevate Petyr to higher positions, Baelish can’t kickstart wars or fuck people over so much.

- No Rebellion, no exiled Targaryens, no dragons, no tyrannical pyromaniacal dragon queen and potentially a sane Viserys.

- No Rebellion, no dead Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon. No rebelling from Dorne.

- No Rebellion, no death of Quellon Greyjoy, likely no Ironborn rebellion, hopefully less messed up Theon.

I could go on. The ramifications of Lyanna and Rhaegar’s selfishness and stupidity run deep. But I think I’ve made my point.

[elitheaceofalltrades]

This is pretty random but Saturday is for odds and ends so why not? It's busy period at work right now (I got home at 10pm on thursday, my commute is only 15 mins) so I don't have a lot of time for hobbies though I am trying to do at least 5 minutes. One of the things I've been able to do is read some fanfics. Mainly because fanfic are usually short and need low brain power and I can start and stop them as I please without losing the pacing. I've been reading fanfics sicne I was a teen, starting way back in the 2010s with The Avengers, back when it was mainly Avengers found family fics before the MCU really kicked off. I started collecting quotes from different fics that I liked because while fanfic has a reputation of either being smut, silly or badwritten (or a combination of those) there are some really good works out there with some really important words in them.

In honour of one of the few things keeping me sane these last few weeks (and last few years), here are 25 of my favourite fanfic quotes that I saved. Most of them are serious but a couple silly ones are included:

While it is yet today, don't you give up

While it is yet today, don't you give up

our stories don’t make yours any less real

Sam didn’t like being helpless. But at least he could be informed.

Change always came when life felt most steady

If we’re throwing stones, let’s get bloody

Fucking early morning birds with their fucking morning chirping.

He was sick of being the strong one who never asked for help and was never offered it because he never seemed like he needed it.

This isn't my childhood and I am not helpless anymore. 

Trouble shared is trouble halved.

Living's hard work. But I know you can do it.

he didn't look for trouble so much as land face-first in it

Some people always need to look for monsters under the bed, rather than admitting the person walking down the street is capable of doing something horrific

I can’t keep running and hiding from life, no matter how much I feel like it some days.

The only shame’s in believing help is for other people

He always did have more balls than sense.

determination and effort make up for a lot of sins

You’re not alone Stop acting like you are

Parents aren't perfect and prejudice is old

You cannot spend your life on your knees and not know the look of someone who's getting ready to kick you to the ground. 

Fight, boy, fight. Take the stars into your bleeding hands and shape your own destiny with it. Be hungry enough to devour the stars.  

It became less of a statement of "I'm a human" and more of "we're people". Does that make sense? It's different, you know. Feeling human and feeling like a person can be two very different things

He hates being taken care of – hates needing to be taken care of – but he loves them for doing it.

There’s room for sunshine and horseshit to occupy the same street

First of all, it isn’t my place to tell you what you can and can’t do. I’m not your keeper, your commander, or your mother. 

[nikethestatue]

Depth of Your Eyes

Extreme Fluff.

Domestic fluff. Babies!

Elriel Month - Day 24

“Why do you hate me?” lamented the feared and exalted Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

Feared and admired, worshipped for his immense Illyrian power, for his stealth and strength, he, the great and mysterious spy master, the male who made enemies tremble and flee, and females swoon, failed utterly and completely at this one task—having his chunky newborn son open his eyes for him.

When his son was born, the first thing that shocked everyone—parents and healer and midwife—was his very impressive size. How the delicate, slender, elegant Elain even managed to bear him—without much difficulty too—was a mystery.

But the Cauldron loved Elain and strove to make Elain happy. It gave Elain an almost painless labour, though it was lengthy and uncomfortable nevertheless, and while Azriel was out of his mind with worry and trepidation, not knowing whether the baby’s wings would cause damage or even more serious issues, Elain was serene and happy.

The nightmare that was Nyx’s birth was still fresh in Aziel’s mind—the blood, the gore, Nyx’s tiny lifeless body in Mor’s arms, and Feyre, with a horrific gaping slash across her abdomen, bleeding out, Death hovering just above her. Therefore, Azriel dreaded Elain’s labour. For ten months he was a wreck. He was too happy, too elated, too content, too joyful in his life, and there bound to be repercussions for all that bliss.

The baby was conceived momentarily. “Let’s make a baby,” Azriel proposed a little drunkenly to the giggling and smiling Elain. They were enjoying a glorious sunset on the sea, in a tiny town with whitewashed buildings and blue roofs, in the Summer Court. It was far from Adriata, far from visitors and everyone else and they indulged in endless white sand beaches, fresh seafood and lots of local wine, swimming in the azure waters of the sea and enough lovemaking to leave them both sore and hoarse. “Now?” Elain kissed him. He shrugged, “why not now?”

And it happened—‘now’. When they returned from their holiday, she found out that she was expecting their baby.

Azriel couldn’t lie, but he was feeling rather smug.

“What the fuck kind of seed you got, brother?” muttered Cassian. “You just knocked her up in a day?”

Azriel only shrugged innocently.

As if this was to be expected. Of course he’d impregnate her in a day! But it wasn’t at all what he thought would happen—he thought that as with all Fae, this would be a lengthy process full of false starts, crushed hopes and nerves. But the Cauldron loved Elain and wanted to make her happy.

Now, he was holding his chunky son in his arms. Calm and peaceful, the baby took after his parents in temperament. He was mellow and not fussy, docile and good-natured. His appetite was monstrous though. He ate and ate and ate. At his already great size, Azriel muttered ‘you are going to be Cassian’s size by the time you are three’. And because he ate so much, he was rather plump, to put it kindly, which meant that his hamster-like cheeks obscured his eyes. At three weeks, their baby mostly slept and ate, so periods of play and interaction were minimal—hence, Azriel’s failure to actually see the colour of his son’s eyes.

Elain claimed that the eyes were hazel. Nesta insisted that they were ‘Archeron’ eyes. Cassian’s assessment was ‘I think brown. Like dirt’. Amren went with ‘I don’t know, I didn’t look closely’. Yet they all claimed that they’d seen his eyes.

Azriel was seated on top of the covers in their bed, propped against the cushioned headboard. His wing curled around Elain, who was sleeping next to him, pressed to his side, her arm thrown over his stomach. Their son, sturdy and large, almost the size of Azriel’s forearm now, was sucking noisily, eating like he hasn’t been fed in a week. He was fed less than three hours ago.

The bottle—a new invention from Dawn—wasn’t widely used just yet, but Azriel loved it. At first, Elain was reluctant to utilize it, preferring to breastfeed at all times, but then…well, then she came to accept how convenient this bottle invention was. Especially because Azriel was a nocturnal creature and had no issues with staying up or waking in the middle of the night. And with their gluttonous son demanding food all the time, she was still able to function and rest and sleep, since he didn’t really care which way he was getting his food, as long as he was getting it.

Azriel was looking down at the delicious bundle in his arms, and thought that his baby would end up looking very much like him, if he wasn’t so chubby. Right now, he was all round and soft and filled with folds that others wanted to bite and pinch.

Cassian, in fact, did bite his nephew’s little fat wrist, and Elain caught them, warning that Cassian wouldn’t be allowed to feed him if it happened again. “but it didn’t even hurt!” he defended himself feebly. “Just a little nibble��He is such a fatty!”

“No. Biting.” ordered Elain. “Or you’ll be off bottle duty!”

That was a serious threat that Cassian took to heart, because he absolutely adored feeding the baby with the bottle. He and Nesta were enthralled with him, quietly arguing and fighting about whose turn it was to feed him next. Elain and Azriel frequently overheard ‘you did it last time!” “no, but he likes me more…” “gods above, he does not like you more! He clearly prefers me!” “he was crying with you!” “yes, that’s because you made him cry!”

“We only have two choices,” said Azriel with a sigh, watching Cassian coo and babble to the baby one day, rocking him and singing him all kinds of bawdy Illyrian songs. “We either forbid them entry into the house,” at that, Elain frowned. “Or, we just let them be and simply assume that our son’s first word will be ‘fuck’.”

Adhering to the Illyrian tradition of not naming a child until he was one month old, the baby remained nameless. Well, Elain and Azriel knew what he would be called, but speculation ran rampant.

Elain had officially asked Cassian and Nesta to be the baby’s Guardians, a very important and respected position in the Illyrian society. It would fall on Cassian to start teaching his nephew how to fly—and when Elain formally requested for him to become the Guardian, Cassian shyly teared up.

“Yes, Petal, of course,” he nodded nervously, with aching sincerity, “it would be an honour. Are you sure?” Cassian still worried, “are you sure you don’t want to ask Rhys?”

Elain embraced the General gently and lovingly, and whispered, “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Cass. Only you. I’d only trust him with you and Nesta.”

It was Elain’s right as the mother to select the Guardians for her child, so while Azriel suspected who her choice would be, he waited for the official announcement along with everyone else. Eventually, the Guardian would present their son with his first sword, and begin teaching him to fight.

“Well, I want my baby to have the best,” said Elain, kissing Nesta’s flushed cheek. “Who is better than the Commander General of the Night Court armies and the Valkyrie herself? Will you two do us the honour of accepting him into your Guardianship?”

“Yes!” both of them almost yelled their acceptance.

Now, Nesta and Cassian was preparing something grandiose for the Naming Ceremony.

But first things first.

“Hey lovie, why don’t you look at me?” murmured Azriel, rocking his son gently against his chest. At first, the baby leapt towards his nipple, received nothing from it and gave an angry squeak of disappointment.

“Sorry, my friend, at this point, I think you should already know where the good stuff comes from,” said Azriel, as he offered the bottle. “I know, I know, not the same, but close enough. Believe me, I tried it straight from the delicious source and I agree, it is much better,”

“Stop being gross,” moaned Elain, and slapped his stomach.

He laughed.

“I am not being gross. Just honest. If I can suck on your titties,”

“Oh, gods, yes, I know. You’d rather suck on my titties than a bottle. I’ve heard this before,”

“And I stand by my opinion. So does my son. He has good taste. Now, go back to sleep.”

Elain ran a sleepy hand over the edge of his wing and turned around, pressing her lush ass into his thigh.

He drew his knuckles over her cheek and she reached for his fingers with her lips, kissing them, before tumbling back into her slumber.

Gods, he loved her.

The baby didn’t like all this jostling around him, and grabbed Azriel’s hand with his stubby fat fingers, steadying him and the bottle.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured and looked down, stroking his baby’s soft brown curl that jutted out proudly on top of his head. “Mama is such a beauty…we can’t forget her either, even with you. I love you both very much.”

The baby nodded sagely, as if agreeing with his father. Yes, indeed, his mother was gorgeous and beautiful and very nice, and required his father’s attention. It was very understandable.

But this male, this father of his—he liked him very much as well. He was very kind and he fed him and changed him, and sang songs with him, and played with him, and…well, he loved him.

Azriel was smiling softly to himself, watching the baby, and then, suddenly, his son opened his eyes and grinned at him. Grinned a huge toothless smile—his very first one. He never smiled for anyone before, but this was it.

This was for his father.

This male, who’s waited for him for a long, long time, hoping against hope that one night, he’d have him in his arms and receive this huge, satisfied smile, which was meant only for him. An undeniable, glorious reward for centuries of suffering and sadness. He grabbed his father’s scarred finger in his fist and blinked at him with the depth of his Archeron eyes.

[radfemblack]

Here it is worthwhile to delineate how Israel also draws upon racialized homophobia and transphobia in its abuse of Palestinians. This includes the blackmailing of queer Palestinians, with a former Israeli Intelligence corps member sharing that in training to disregard Palestinians’ privacy and manipulate their personal lives for Israeli state interests, “we actually learned to memorise and filter different words for ‘gay’, in Arabic.”

Even more horrifically, there are detailed accounts from Palestinians imprisoned in Israeli jails of verbal and sexual harassment which use homophobia and transphobia as a threat. One 16 year old described a police officer as telling him that “‘I will fuck you and you will sing on my dick’ as part of his threats. Another 23 year old recounted how an Israeli secret service member shouted “you terrorist, I’ll fuck you like a homosexual!”, while another in a separate report described being harassed by an interrogator who asked “Are you a homosexual? You look like a woman. Have you ever fucked a woman?”. Still another detainee described how they were threatened with having their brother undergo a sex change against their will, saying “They put me in an investigation room with a glass partition and on the other side I saw my brother, dressed as a woman, immodest, in a mini-skirt. […] They said that they […] had arranged for him a sex-change surgery in Jerusalem.”

These are not isolated cases, as Israel’s extensive use of sexual harassment and assault as a form of torture against Palestinians are well documented. The reasons for this are betrayed even in the very report most of the aforementioned testimony was drawn from, with the author declaring that “Sexual torture and ill-treatment, including forced nudity and curses with sexual contents, may have particularly deep and sometimes long-lasting humiliating effects among Arab men. This is grounded in the notion of honour, which is basic in social life in much of the Muslim world.” Here the author is taking for granted the idea that Arab and Muslim men (though here he is using the terms interchangeably) are more sensitive to being sexually harassed and assaulted than their western counterparts. He seems to, whether subconsciously or not, believe that the perpetrators of these acts are comparatively enlightened rather than perpetuating the old use of sexual violence against men in armed conflicts and the concurrent bigoted dynamics of emasculation, feminization and/or homosexualization as insult.

[the-flying-urayuli]

alright so im watching inside for the millionth time rn so i decided to write down some thoughts on certain parts of the special

i can already tell this is gonna be personal, also please tag me in your own theories i quite like reading them

white womans instagram: the most beautiful fucking moment in this special, i think its about how we stereotype people harshly without knowing that they all have depth to them, and they have lives as well.

unpaid intern: quite obvious, bo says it himself that the song is taking a twist on old songs about working hard and the labour exploitation of people for corporal benefit. i think also interesting is the part afterwards with the reaction, i think that part is about how you look at your older work that you poured your heart into and just see its shit.

look whos inside again: bo burnham became famous after writing some songs on the internet while he was just a bored guy in his room, the covid pandemic gave him a reason to hide back inside, and never want to leave again

welcome to the internet: ah the internet, where people can become famous or forgotten in seconds. where everyone in the world is rapidly talking around you. you can get away with almost anything as long as it isnt a crime, hell you can get away with some, millions of guys show their dick to strangers each day. everyone you can think of is here, pedophiles and children right next to each other. you can say basically what ever you want and someone will support you. you can see horrific news right next to mums filimg their kids at a festival. misinformation spreads like wildfire and you can destroy a life with a paragraph. hell children see porn and gore here why not. not to mention the mass corporations, showing the internet off as a place where you will be adored by everyone, and that its always been for you. everything is happening, all of the time, the whole world is at your finger tips, but you can destroy it in the process. so basically its about how the internet is so vast and massive and everything is happening at once.

that funny feeling: this’ll be a long part cause i want to sorta look into all or most of the lines in this song, if you want more of them just go to the genius page for the song (https://genius.com/Bo-burnham-that-funny-feeling-lyrics) but this is just my personal interpretation

so on a basis, “the funny feeling” bo is describing is hard to word but its that feeling that “the world is melting apart and we could fix it, but we dont” or “we’ve fucked up everything”. thanks some random reddit user for explaining it to me but ill get into the lyrics

stunning 8k resolution meditation app: in honour of the revolution its half of at the gap (google app store: the revolution was a big event that changes and took the lives on many, and all we do to honour it was give a half off discount.

a gift shop at the gun range a mass shooting at the mall: so im not american but in america, gun violence is everywhere, it takes the lives of so many innocent people every year and every time something viscous happens politicians and the media just go “well ok”, and when confronted about the issue and how we could solve it they just say they cant or they shouldnt. i wanted to stay un political but look at this movie, a lot of it is political

reading pornhubs terms of service: porn and masturbation is something that brings you joy, but at a point it all just feels so numb, nothing brings you emotion anymore and all you can do is feel ashamed, so you sit there and just read the tos cause who even cares anymroe

obeying all the traffic laws in grand theft auto 5: gta is a game you play for thrill and to break shit, but instead youre just sitting there and calming driving along, cause like the other one, things and games you used to enjoy just dont feel the same anymore.

hey what can you say? we were overdue, but itll be over soon, you wait: imo the best line in the special, who cares anymore, we’ve all lived longer than we ever thought we would, but who cares we probably dont have much longer anyway. or its talking about optimistic nihilism where you go “hey we’re all gonna die anyway, lets stop freaking out about everything and just let it wash over us”

all eyes on me: it feels like that one peaceful moment you get in the mess, the eye of the storm. the feeling when you sit there on the floor of your room and look out the window and you just feel still. you stop overthinking everything and all the mess just melts away, just for a little while.

any way yeah peace bye

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Onyx and MC find out that they're having Twins

Written by: @evoedbd

It was a usual peaceful day in the clinic. Sunlight shone through the windows, reflecting the off coloured white walls to bathe the room in a soft, bright light. The air was so light, light enough that one could forgive the beige linoleum floors and the sterile smell which betrayed the calm and gave a hospital vibe. Combatting the sterile nature was a large fish tank, illuminated with gentle blues through driftwood and aquarium plants. The plants waved gently in the currents, joyfully curling around the playful bubbles escaping an ornament amidst the driftwood. The fish danced around their environment, fins occasionally flaring before they dashed off, merrily oblivious to the incoming storm.

Standing guardian to the peaceful waiting room was a lone secretary, stationed behind her large corner desk. Immaculately dressed, as she had been every day for ten years on the job, her occasionally stern gaze held the rabble in line. Under her eye, even the most anxious of patients stayed quiet, perhaps mistaking her for harsh. She was not. These patients who came in were under her care until they met their doctors. For the lives they grew, the secretary owed them a moment of peace. A place to feel safe. Whether it was to hand them pamphlets from her desk with cliche titles such as “what to expect while expecting” or handing them pamphlets to support groups. Sometimes, a simple glass of water or some biscuits were what her patients needed, and she loyally provided, honoured by her small role in helping healthy babies be brought into the world. Though, there was a darker side to her observations. She had to pick out the women at risk, the women in tough circumstances. These women stayed with her, even long after they left her sight. The “unfortunate” accidents which could not be proven as anything but. The husbands and wives who looked just a little bit too angry at being there. The expecting mothers who were too twitchy. The noble secretary kept them all marked, a tiny yellow flag on their appointments.

She had known the moment miss Onyx Wren had come in all those years ago that something was horribly wrong. A lone, terrified young woman who had done her best to be bright and chirpy. She’d talked about her loving boyfriend, how he was so excited for her baby, how he was working extra hard and making her work harder to provide the best life for their coming child. It had come as no surprise when the clinic heard she had lost her baby in a training accident. When the following check-up was under the watchful eyes of her boyfriend. The way he had looked at Onyx still chilled the Secretary to the core, and when she had heard his line of questioning. All about physicality. All about when Onyx could have sex again. She knew. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had done something horrific, and that Onyx was too scared to speak, too trapped in denial to accept her reality.

Today, the scene had been something entirely different. Onyx had been quiet, terrified even, but she was not alone. With her was a little Asian woman, a hurricane barely restraining herself. The air had changed the moment they stepped in, the Asian woman holding the doors for Onyx, comforting her with amusing faces and gentle touches. The Asian woman hadn’t seemed to care how childish she seemed; her focus was devoted to Onyx. Over her shoulder, a bag containing several textbooks had bounced, textbooks the Secretary recognised as medical schoolbooks on pregnancy and reproduction. That had given her pause. For all the childish energy and wild excitement, the girl had shown, she was so clearly committed. So seriously dedicated to whatever role she was playing for the expectant mother. And Onyx? Onyx, for all her fright, seemed to gravitate to that energy, feeding off it until the two seamlessly worked together, as if they felt the other in their very soul. As if reading one another’s thoughts before they even occurred. It was sickeningly adorable. If only that Asian woman could keep her voice down, then the Secretary might have even been cooing over them.

“TWINS!” The gleeful cry cut through the peaceful din of the waiting room; the roar of a dragon across the countryside. Like the beating of wings, the faithful pounding of footsteps against the floor crescendoed, growing closer and closer. Occasionally, the sound of shoes squeaking from the friction against the floor broke the pattern, or a pause to the steps cued more joyous shouting.

The Secretary cringed, her dedicated typing coming to a halt as she braced herself for the human hurricane. The one she’d read as the emergency contact. Cali Meng Xi.

“Twins! Twins! Its twins! She’s having twins!” Cali continued to shout, leaping and whooping through the waiting room in a flurry of her tie-dyed hoodie and long, powerful legs. The bike mechanic danced, kicking her white high tops into the air with each leap and stride, reminiscent of a frolicking stallion amidst the spring grass. How could she stop? The excitement burning in her body was too powerful to contain, too pure to be tainted by something as cold as rational, mature behaviour or logic. Onyx was having babies. Plural. Not A baby. But BABIES. Twins! Two baby Onyx’s! Double the adorableness in the world. Double the miracles! Her heart was going to beat out of her chest; was going to explode into a shower of rainbow glitter and unicorns delivering bombs of happiness to all. Onyx! Babies!

Behind her, a melodic giggle twinkled. A sound of delight and embarrassment at the same time. Onyx followed at a far more sedate pace, reaching out in an effort to catch Cali’s arm whenever the mechanic was within reach. Of course, Cali didn’t stop bouncing around, her face split by the dopiest grin ever seen. Instead, she took Onyx’s hand, spinning the shorter woman as if they were in a ballroom instead of a waiting room.

“Cali, calm down. Just watching you is making me tired.” Onyx laughed; her voice filled with that undeniable note of happiness. Even as Cali’s behaviour embarrassed her a little, it also filled her with pride. It was evident in the healthy glow of her cheeks, the delighted, adoring twinkle in her oceanic emerald eyes. Her plea was heeded. Cali slowed, sweeping Onyx up into a loving embrace, only to spin her around once again. Onyx simply laughed, kicking her feet playfully before she was gently set down.

“The most beautiful woman in the world is having twins! I love you! I love you all, so, so much! I’m so excited, Onyx. I’m so happy I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t let it out!” Cali cried, fat tears of joy rolling down the curve of her cheeks. The truth of her words was evident. Standing still, Cali’s muscles twitched, all rebelling beneath her skin. She trembled, a tangle of energy with nowhere to go. Still, when she lifted her hands to Onyx’s cheeks, Cali was so very gentle. Even trembling, her fingers never became rough as they tucked strand after strand of golden hair behind Onyx’s delicate ear. For all her overwhelming energy, Cali’s hands were nothing but sweet again Onyx’s cheeks, as if cradling her world in her rugged palms. Gently, she lured Onyx into a kiss, the sweetest she could offer. Her lips caressed Onyx’s, pleading, writing her love into every romantic memory. A gesture of such vulnerability offered without fear or shame, unperturbed as to who witnessed such a moment.

The Secretary smiled, surrendering to her impulse to croon over the young women. Even from across the room, she could see the devotion in Cali’s dark eyes, could see how Onyx was her entire world. It was laced through every touch. The tenderness of her hands to Onyx’s barely showing stomach. The love in even the most chaste of kisses, in how Cali pressed them everywhere she could. This hurricane of excitement had no qualms about kneeling to Onyx, to pressing her lips to Onyx’s tummy. About sobbing with happiness. This woman was proud, without being prideful. Intense without becoming domineering. Cali Meng Xi was nothing like the boyfriend Onyx had tried to sell as loving. The longer The Secretary watched, the more apparent it became. Cali’s actions were all for Onyx. Cali wasn’t out to disturb the others, nor was she putting on a show for the crowds. This was her, raw and unbridled, unable to contain herself. She wasn’t trying to seize the stage, she was trying to share her happiness. She was blessing the waiting room with her genuine joy, gifting a glimpse of her soul as she worshipped a goddess in her own life. As she praised the lives growing.

“Six fucking pages.” The doctor whispered as he drew closer, bending down to slide the documentation to the Secretary and keep his words private.

“That woman took six pages of notes. If only all the expecting fathers were as dedicated.” He elaborated, earning a gentle chuckle from the Secretary. The woman gazed into the doctor's eyes for a moment, reading everything he hadn’t said. She watched, assessing for a few moments before accepting the files.

“Miss Wren better put a ring on that girl. They’re perfect together.” The Secretary commented, earning a sound of agreement from the doctor.

Quietly, she flipped to the page, pausing at the yellow sticky dot in the corner. The doctor simply nodded, confirming her thoughts with a smile so large it looked as if his aged face might split in two. The Secretary’s heart almost burst as she worked her nails beneath it, picking and plucking until the label came free. Nothing honored her as much as when she worked it into a nasty ball, then flicked it from her nails straight into the trash. Right where it belonged.

Onyx Wren wasn’t in danger any longer.

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 12

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, ptsd, agnst

W/c: 2k

A/n: I want to personally apologise for this. But honestly, this was the most fun chapter to write. I’m in love with this and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. As always, thank you to @cutie1365​​ for all her help with this one! Also the POV between Bucky and the reader jump back and forth alot through this one I hope it makes sense! 

The several punching bags Bucky had mutilated last night lay in the corner of the gym, now collecting dust as he bandaged his bloody knuckles. He hadn't stopped thinking about you all night... Hadn’t stopped thinking about the Winter Soldier who fired those three lethal shots into his mission's chest. The Soldier he once was, fighting the monster he knew he’d always be. They could take his trigger words, but they'd never erase the incoherent and disjointed memories of the gruesome acts he had so willingly performed.

He tried to piece together that fateful mission. How could he forget? He could still see the twisted look on the man's face as his eyes rolled back into his skull, falling off the bridge and into the murky water beneath him, slipping farther and farther from view. At the time, he remembered thinking how easy it would be to dive in after him. He wondered if he hit the water, would it kill him? Surly not. Most likely, he’d survive… But a guy could dream. Sinking deeper and deeper into the cold waters would be so peaceful. He almost did it. But the blood curdling screams from behind reminded him of the task at hand. 

He forced himself to relive that moment, over and over until the ringing of bullets in his mind became melotic, trying desperately to remember her face. Every time, drawing a blank. His memory of her, nothing but a tangled mess of wires, too rusted and corroded to connect. A headache pounded behind his sleep deprived eyes, scolding him. But he couldn't stop. 

How could he not remember your face. Or the sound of your heavy sobs as you crumbled into a hollowed out version of the woman he’s now so fond of. You begged him, he remembered that. Your screams only to be washed out by the sound of his pistol. The drum of bullets used to be the only comfort to him, but now he would easily trade it for your laugh. The way you sigh, soft and smooth when he says something that makes you smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you're happy, or how your hair always falls in perfect ringlets around your face. He knows he shouldn't have let it get this bad, but it's too late now. You've ruined any other woman for him, and for that he was grateful. But now, as fast as you had stolen his every thought, you were gone.

Truly the better criminal. 

He saw you, only in passing as you walked by the kitchen. Your eyes fell to his and he could see the hurt behind them. He wanted nothing more than to run to you, explain, apologise- but Nat stopped him before he could. 

“Not like this, Barnes. Not like this.” She solded. He knew she was right. If you were to ever be able to look at him again, he needed to give you space to breathe. But Bucky was at a loss.

With Steve away doing God knows what, he wasn't sure who to turn to. It had been over a week since he had exchanged words with his best friend and though he missed him, he also hated what he had done. Deep, deep down, Bucky knew he was trying to protect him, but that didn't dismiss the complete and utter mess he had made. 

So there he sat, battered and panting on the gym floor as he tried to fight the urge to run to your room and beg for forgiveness that would never come. He knew it. Perhaps that was for the best. You deserved more than a ghost of who he once was. 

…………………………

Dirty plates and empty liquor bottles scattered your coffee table. You sat up, noticing Nat fast sleep on the small sofa in your room. Sam was sprawled on the floor with an old teddy bear Tom had won for you at Coney Island years back. He cradled in between his arms, soft snores slipping from beneath his lips. 

You spent the rest of the night eating contraband snacks and watching some gorey action movie you picked to drown out your inner dialogue. It didn't really work, but Sam’s earth shattering snores that came half way through the movie helped in its place. As you listen to his staggered breathing, you wonder about the girl you left behind all those days ago. The one who forgot everything, but your mind tormented you with the memory of. You wondered if there was still a piece of her hidden deep down inside of you, waiting to spring forth at any moment. She wasn't broken. At least not the way you are now and you wondered, only for a moment, if maybe you liked the pathetic person she was. If only because she had no recollection of her duty, her honour, and could run back into his arms and forgive him.

But that's not who you were anymore. 

Quietly, you snuck out of bed and ransacked through your dresser drawer for something to wear. Nat and Sam had helped you put some of your clothes away between shots of tequila. 

‘That’s a lot of plaid’, Nat complained,  pulling yet another flannel out of your box of clothes. ‘And leather, did you make it out of the nineties okay, babe?’ Sam laughed. 

Grabbing your favourite jeans and vintage AC/DC shirt you stepped into the steam filled bathroom. 

After getting ready, you tiptoed out of your room, quietly closing the door and silently cursing when it slammed shut. 

Damn your super strength. 

You whipped around, ready to bolt down the hallway when you slammed into a tall hard frame. You looked up, hoping- no, praying it wasn't…

“Hi.”

You physically recoiled at the sight. There stood Bucky, hair pulled back off his face and a big lopsided grin on his lips. 

What the fuck? 

“Hi.” You deadpanned, pushing past him and trying your very best to not run away screaming. You were stronger than that. You were the youngest in your graduating class, hired by S.H.I.E.L.D, trained by the best agents in the field, and a goddamn Super Soldier. You weren't running from Bucky Barnes. You did however turn quickly on your feet and briskly walk passed him.

“Hold up a sec,” he started.

You froze. Why did you freeze? You didn't need him to say anything to you. The damage was done, and yet, there you were, breathless on his every word. 

“What?” You spat through a clench jaw. 

“Uh, I need to talk to you…”

“Well, good for you.” 

“Yeah, uh- Listen, I know you remembered everything and I just wanted to say that...” His words faded into the background as you began to see nothing but red. He was really doing this right now. Apologising for murdering Tommy, for dragging you back to Hydra, kicking and screaming, for being the sole reason you're in this mess.

Okay so you created the serum against your better judgment… But you weren’t the one on trial here. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You sneer, cocking a brow. 

“I- I just wanted to-”

“And I just wanted to have a fiance that wasn't dead. What did you think? You’d apologize for what you did and everything would just go back to the way it was. Huh?” He gaped at you in shock, “That I’d just forgive you and jump back in your bed? Did remember me, Barnes? Did you get off on kissing me after you shot him in the chest?” Your voice began to falter at that. Hurt and betrayal clouded your brain. 

“No, of course not.” He finally spoke. 

“No what? No that doesn't do it for the Winter Soldier?” You shouted. So much for quietly sneaking out. 

“Y/n, listen to me- that’s not who I-.”

“Show him to me.” You took two wide pases so you were close enough to smell his body wash as you clenched your fist, digging it so hard into his chest you were sure you’d leave a mark. “Show me the Winter Soldier. Show me the ghost story they tell their children so that they’ll behave. I know he’s still in there. Cumon, Buck. You can't honestly believe he doesn't control your every move. You're a monster, you're just too much of a pussy to admit it. But I know-”

In seconds your back hit the wall, his metal arm crushing your windpipe as he held you there. If it weren't for your strength you were sure you would have passed out from the sheer strength of his blow. He was seething, eyes dark and all emotion washed from his face. 

You tried to look scared, you really did. But there was something about that hollow stare that sent a shiver down your spine. Maybe you were the one getting off on the Winter Soldier?

“There he is.” You choked out. His face softened at the sound of your broken words, but before he could slip back to Bucky Barnes your bedroom door flew open. Sam and Nat came barreling out, guns drawn and ready to attack. When Nat realised what was happening she gasped. 

Bucky involuntarily dropped you, eyes wide in shock. You tumbled to the ground, finding your footing quickly and taking the opportunity to send a sharp kick to Bucky’s chest, rocketing him back. 

“Y/n I’m so sorry I don't know what happened.” A rouge tear escaped and rolled down his cheek only making your rage intensify. 

“Oh, but I do. You may have everyone fooled around here. Hell, you had me for a moment there. But that's gone now. Dead. I see right through your act. It takes a monster to know one.” You scoffed, driving your point. And boy, was it a home run.  

“Bucky, what the fuck!?” Nat snapped

“Are you okay, did he hurt you?” Sam was at your side, checking your neck for any injuries. You healed quickly, and so only a faint pink line wrapped around your throat, the only reminder of the scene that had just played out. 

“Fine.” You mumbled, brushing the dirt off your pants. 

“Y/n, let me explain-” 

“You're still here? Nah, man, stop talking. Get the fuck out of here.” Sam scoffed, looking at Bucky's broken frame. You didn't need the Falcon to fight your battles, besides you had won this one already. 

Bucky signed, knowing this was over. Nat eyed Sam while she walked the damaged man out of the hallway. 

“You sure you're okay?” Sam spoke when they were finally out of sight. You nodded, feeling your heart begin to pick up speed at the distance that was now between you and Bucky. 

“Okay, let's get you out of here for a little bit.” 

You followed Sam through the compound and out into the scorching African heat. Your mind was still fuzzy from your moment you had shared the Winter Soldier, your legs feeling like jelly. Maybe you should have taken your doctor's advice and kept up with those therapy sessions because God damn if that wasn't the hottest thing that anyones ever done to you. 

Like you said, it takes a monster to know one.

…………………….

“What the hell were you thinking?” Nat snapped, shoving Bucky into the kitchen. He didn't stumble, not like when you pushed him. 

She wanted to see him. He thought, but did not dare utter the words. 

“I don’t know Nat. She pushed a button, I lost control.” 

“Lost control? You almost choked her to death.” 

No he didn't. It takes six to seven minutes for brain cells to start dying. Ten for the eyes to start to pop out of their sockets before they would gasp their final- 

No. God no. He could hear the monster's voice in the back of his head. Always lingering. You were right, he was always there. Always watching. 

“But I didn't. So just drop it.” Bucky tried to change the subject but Natasha wasn't having any part. 

“You need to get your shit together. What the hell is going on with you? First Y/n beats you within an inch of your life and now-”

“You don't know?” He was shocked. All this time he thought they were both in on it. He thought at the very least you would have told her. 

“Know what?” She pressed. 

“I did it. I killed him.”  Natasha gapped at him so a moment before she cringed and looked away.

“Oh, god.”

......................................................................

A/N: Thank you for reading! And also shout out to @whateveriwant​​ for her support and all her amazing advice. If you haven't already, go check out her work. I feel like I drew a little dark Bucky inspiration from a few of her fics. As always feedback is welcomed! Reblog and like if you feel so inclined! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​