#i haven't lost faith in humanity

[abysslll]

can somebody please give me a reason aot is is problematic other than “b b but eren committed genocide” bc last time i checked death note is still popular

#if this is legitimately an issue of ''characters did bad things :(('' my faith in humanity has been lost #aot #like. i haven't finished aot #i've watched up to the final season #i don't /love/ aot #but i don't understand why??? it's suddenly horrible to like it????

[victoriouslygay]

It's horrible to see the damage one person can do to the queer community. My girlfriend and I watched the hbomb video in a mixture of rage and horror as James did theft and grift after theft and grift, and covered his tracks with lies, deflections, and destruction of evidence.

Hbomb talked about how he hid the evidence after his last major accusations, privating or deleting videos and reuploading (some of) them later. In mid-December of 2022, he lost 1,555,623 views to this method, privating a large number of videos. Most of his videos sit around 200k, give or take.

Well, unfortunately, likely to no one's surprise, he's doing it again. I've seen lots of people talk about how he shut down his patreon and the message associated with that. What I haven't seen enough talk about is how he's quietly cleaning up his YouTube, following the same exact pattern as before.

All of his videos, shorts, and community posts have had comments turned off. That's not surprising, I'm sure there was plenty of backlash. But he's also now cleaning out this videos with plagiarism. As of yesterday, December 5th, 2023, James Somerton's channel lost a whopping 3,335,455 views, more than double the last time he cleaned house. Remember that most of his videos are in the 200k view range; that is a massive amount of content removed from his channel.

I know he promised a response to his patreon viewers. I would love to extend to another human the good faith and hope that he has learned his lesson and is removing the plagiarized material, never to be posted again. However, there's a pattern at this point. He's been accused before and wiped the evidence away (partially) and carried on. It's very possible he's doing that same thing again.

So whatever explanation comes down the road, be wary. It very well may be the same old grift, this time on a larger acale.

In the meantime, go read and watch queer media from queer artists who don't hurt our community. Hbomb gave us a wonderful playlist, and his subreddit continues to generate more suggestions. Follow the queer artists he stole from. Be nice to the ex-viewers of Somerton, who were victims of a grifter when all they wanted was a place of queer discussions of media. And hopefully, whenever Somerton gives his explanation of the situation, he's already faded into obscurity.

#james somerton #hbomberguy #queer community #queer youtuber #youtube

[mayullla]

Title: Little Sunshine! (Part 2)

Characters: Mainly Akaza with Douma (/Doma) at the end! (Demon Slayer)

Summary: You were taken into the Paradise Faith cult with Kotoha (Inosuke's mother.) And Douma became rather fond of you like he did with Kotoha. When Kotoha ran away, she had no choice but to leave you behind as Douma hid the truth away from you. After becoming a demon you slept for a year and finally woke up again.

Warnings/tags: Platonic yandere, fem!child!reader, reader recently got turned into a demon and just woke up

Note: Part 1 is here!

Akaza didn't know when or why he started to become so attached to you. When he was forced to come to Douma's cult to tell that damn demon some news about the demon slayers, he wanted to keep the time there at the minimum.

That was where he met you.

You were alone in the middle of the garden, looking everywhere, confused and tired. He thought you were a human child at first but had to take a second glance when he realized that you were a demon.

He wondered if it was a joke, a demon art of some demon that could turn into a kid. Yet when he saw your eyes, it was clear that you were not a trap made by some weak demon. You looked at him with no fear but with curiosity and wonder. An innocence that was not supposed to be in a demon yet there...

You took a step towards him when your leg suddenly lost energy and started to fall. You thought you would hit the floor, face first into the dirt, but that never happened when the collar of your sleeping robe was grabbed by the mysterious man who was once on top of the wall.

Looking up at him, you saw the man confused face, surprised at his own actions. "Thank you, mister!" You said, returning to looking down to the floor, your feet not quite reaching as you made a kicking motion.

He let you down after a pause, but before Akaza could leave, you started asking him questions. Asking if he knew where Douma was? "How do you know that guy?" Akaza asked curiously at you. You pouted at him as he didn't answer your questions. "I live here! Douma-sama had let me stay!" You told him flapping your shoulders' sleeves.

Somehow, everything clicked in an instant when he realized who you were. He suddenly remembered that long ago, Douma had asked Muzan if he could turn a small kid into a demon a year or two ago.

You were probably the child that he had turned into a demon.

Akaza snapped back into reality when he felt his pants being tugged, looking down to see you holding him, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

"Mister, are you okay?" You asked curiously. Giving you a grunt, you took it as a sign that he was okay and smiled at him. Watching that smile, it was strange if not weird almost to see it in a demon. Most demons have malicious intent, as most have killed or done things that were morally wrong, even if they haven't by now the smell of blood should linger on their skin. Demons can't eat food anymore to survive.

They needed blood.

Yet here you were. He barely could smell any of it from you. He wondered if this was the first time this ever happened. Why were you even here, Akaza thought to himself as he unconsciously patted your head.

When you giggled, the innocent sounds made him uneasy.

"Mister, play with me!" You called out to him, raising your arms. "Up! Up!" You told him. Akaza blinked again in surprise when he saw you asking him such a thing. Never in his life after becoming a demon did someone ask him to play like this. Most human kids run away either because they already know that he was a demon or they witness him kill someone.

However, you refuse to let your hands down and continue to stare at him. He wondered if you couldn't feel it at all, the difference in rank between him and you. Most demons can't even look at him in the eyes. Yet it seems that you didn't care as you approached him again one step and then suddenly lost strength again, staggering as you thought that you would fall again.

Akaza caught you... again. Why did he do that??

Bring you up to eye level, holding you by the collar Akaza examined you as if you were some foreign alien. You looked at him again and smiled as he wondered why you are so weird?!

Reaching out to him again, you motioned that you want to get on his shoulders.

"... Fine... Just this once." Following your instructions hesitantly as he placed you on his shoulders, holding your legs as you held on his hair. You giggled as you started pointing him in directions to head to, "Go there, Mister! Go there!"

It was so awkward for him as he followed your childish demands, wondering why he was even listening to them. Walking over to trees, you touched the branches that were far too high for you to reach before and beamed at him with self-pride. "I am so tall!" You laughed.

The more the two of you played under the moonlight, the more relaxed Akaza started to become. When was the last time he played like this when he was relaxed with almost no care in the world? He smiled as you showed off to him that you were taller than him when both of you knew that he was carrying you which made you tall.

And Akaza... maybe in a way, wanted to show his powers to you. He thought it would be a fun idea really.

You gasped in surprise when he jumped, the wind on your hair, as you guys reach so high over 3-story buildings up. This was your first time seeing up so high. You shouted in awe and excitement as the both of you landed on the roof of a building. You raved on and on about how cool that was and that Akaza was amazing, with so much respect in your eyes begging him to do it again.

You don't know how long you played with Akaza, jumping higher and higher up in the sky, and you looked at the world around you under the night sky. You didn't know when you fell asleep again, a smile on your lips hugging Akaza's neck as he held you in his arms.

Akaza looked at you in wonder, wondering why you were a demon yet so amazed by what Akaza thought was normal as a demon.

But right now wasn't the time.

"You can show yourself now." Akaza didn't turn around to face Douma. He knew for a long time when the guy showed up but would rather focus on you to really care for the man.

"Ah, Akaza-donno, thank you for taking care of her. She has been sleeping for a while now and must have been so confused to wake alone like this. It is such a shame that I wasn't by her side." Douma walked towards you, his eyes on your hair, your face hidden by Akaza's neck softly snoring away, unable to notice the two demons looking at you.

"She didn't notice anything... she is weak." Akaza stated he could not smell, not even a scent of blood other than Muzan and Douma's in you. In his mind, it was obvious that Douma had been staving you for so long now.

"She has been sleeping for over a year now after her transformation to a demon. The poor little girl refused to drink blood when her senses were telling her to do so. I had an amazing meal prepared just for her, too, that time." Douma smiled, his eyes on you slowly turning to the one holding you. "Thank you for caring for her but I will take it over from her-"

Douma's hand that was reaching out for you suddenly exploded into bits and pieces, spraying blood and flesh. His eyes still smiling as he stared at Akaza showed no emotions of annoyance or anger.

But you could see a small vein on the side of his temple.

Akaza didn't want to give you back to Douma. He didn't want to give you to this sick bastard because Akaza knew that he would break you. And as a demon now, this pain can be forever. Rather than with Douma, Akaza knew you would be father better off with him.

He would not let you go, not like this.

Note: Hope you liked it! Have a nice day guys~

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #yandere akaza #yandere doma #yandere douma #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer scenarios #kny imagines #kny scenarios #yandere x reader #tw yandere

[communistchilchuck]

Amro reached out to me to help share his fundraising campaign. He is urgently trying to raise money to evacuate his family, including his 7 year old daughter Tala and 4 year old son Bakir, to Egypt. He has only raised €45 out of his €15,000 goal! Please donate, and if you can't donate, please share!!

From Amro's GFM:

My name is Amro Bakr. I am 37 years old from Gaza. I used to work as an accountant in a Palestinian establishment in Gaza. I have two kids Tala (7 years old) and Bakir (4 years old). We are an innocent family who woke up into a nightmare that costed us our health, our house, and our future.

Before October 7th, we had a simple life. I worked hard to create this family and to provide for them. I worked in different places until I secured a stable job. I built everything from scratch. Despite the challenges, our life was rich with love, hope, and gratitude. All we desired was a roof over our heads and a united family. However, everything changed after that day. We lost our home and our car in Gaza. Now, all we have left is the hope for survival.

My kids, Tala and Bakir. Tala was really excited about starting her new school year. She's a big fan of drawing. Bakir, well, he hasn't even stepped foot in a school. He's the real spark plug in our house, always full of energy and mischief, keeping the high spirit in the house.

Our struggles began when we had to leave our home and move in with my father-in-law. We stayed there for a month. Then, with alerts to flee from the north to the south, we headed to Deir Al Balah. Luckily, we found a dental clinic that contained us since November 2023 up until now.

During this time, we witnessed death in every possible way. The chaos in the streets, the constant fear of dying. There were countless nights when my kids couldn't sleep. We're struggling with starvation. It feels like we're slowly being killed. The water is polluted, and even finding it is a challenge. If we're lucky enough, we might come across a flour pack from aid. These crises keep hitting us day after day, but for how much longer? We used up our savings to make it this far, but it wasn't enough. Now, we're relying solely on aid, and I can see that soon, we won't be able to survive.

Today marks day number 182 of war. I've come to the realization that our only way to survive and live is by evacuating to Egypt. Unfortunately, we don't have the money needed for it. The cost of leaving is $5000 for each adult and $2500 for each child. Since we're 2 adults and 2 children, it will cost us $15,000 in total. We need this money to cover the expenses of evacuation. The money will be used to pay travel expenses through border.

I'm asking everyone with a compassionate heart to help us survive and start a new life in a place where we can find peace. I haven't lost faith in humanity yet. Your donations mean life for a family that is desperately hoping to exist.

Thank you.

#gaza #palestine #free palestine

[eluxcastar]

As I opened my tumblr, just to check if there is new Arlecchino stuff to swallow... lo and behold, I saw your post with the Arlecchino simp tags. Shot me the moment I stepped into the door right there, hahaha! May I request an Arlecchino x reader, headcanon or anything you're comfortable coming up with. The reader is thousands of years old, who got disowned by the Tsaritsa because they declined their performance in greatness for someone else's benefit and saw no worth in her/them. Could be a sibling or a friend, the betrayal stung like a bee since she/they saw Tsaritsa as a mother figure or could literally be the mother (Got kunikuzushi'd in a way, minus the puppet part). So, here's the main part - How Arlecchino would handle that person, when they meet in hostile terms. An accidental encounter, had banters and fights and eventually found strange subtle solace from each other. Could be romantic, or just obsession on Arlecchino's part because we love deranged women pls step on me with your sharp heels - anyway, since Arlecchino is interpreted as someone who won't hesitant to betray the Fatui. On her own benefit, works with the reader to mess and interrupt Fatui operations. I won't include more or else you'd be dealing a whole thesis of it. Hahahah! Good day to you~!

One of Repetition

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: in a strange decision nobody quite understood but could not contest, you were dismissed from your position by the tsaritsa herself but allowed to live. you wander for some time, lost and confused, and most notably unable to escape the fatui even when you are no longer associated with them, which means an unwanted letter and an even more unwanted visit from the knave.

୨୧﹑genre :: kinda angsty

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader has a pyro vision, arlecchino has a cryo delusion, reader uses a bow, capitano is not human this time, he's just a plot device too, their previous relationship is implied but ambiguous, implied age difference, reader is most often called by the title brighella, writing this spiralled me into insanity, possibly bad writing, not proofread 

୨୧﹑words :: 13.6k

hehe, I know that Arlecchino simps flock to me once they learn my requests are open. I have no idea why. maybe they're just especially desperate for food, but they linger, and I have a little collection of anons.

don't worry about how much it'll take me, I honestly enjoy writing longer works. anyway, I received a request similar to this some time ago (was it you? I have encountered that before) but haven't gotten around to completing it, so I'll be partly combining the two

here's the other request:

it's gonna provide some stuff for me to follow, and I remember exactly when I got it, so I wanted to include it for the dear anon who sent it

why brighella you may ask well that's because brighella has been described before as essentially Arlecchino's smarter and more vindictive brother and they compliment each other well. I think Arlecchino may also work for Brighella in some versions?? either way it felt right even though they're not really based off of the character brighella, they do share a few traits with him but not fully it's just a fun little parallel

I really did not expect this to be so long that it literally lagged the writing program I was using to save it and I have been staring at this for so long I literally have no gauge on the quality anymore just that it's variable because it took me so long someone send help

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother— your world— turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him. 

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes, prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight ten other Harbingers. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that. Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fought for you and did not deserve a punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you, "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really. There is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette. "What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else." 

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure him to a place. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you. 

She needs your name, reputation, your relationship with your subordinate, melding together with her lies to make for a tale of tragedy with him as the hero.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim. 

His death was another factor to hold over your head, your penance, the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with anger, but you cannot fight. Despite your feelings of anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to. 

But...you must. 

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition. 

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him." 

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that thin mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity, being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he treasures to this day. Even if he was to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach. 

-

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value. 

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her less-- to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since before the Archon War. What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them? The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks, the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. In this state, you required her for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all of eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance. 

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. It's possible that he has become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watched set, you would never come to terms with it living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last. Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger, years of your life spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair.

You almost want to call them wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this...perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours. 

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides your own arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

-

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have nothing but your vision and bow left to aid your defence. Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to have to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it. 

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

There is a stark silence that is deafening to your ears.

-

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on. The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in your honour, believing that you had passed away. All of them are completely unaware that as they remark on the death of Brighella, they are speaking to the former Harbinger, who asks about the news under the guise of being a curious traveller. They also strongly advised you against venturing into the innermost heart of the nation. If anyone were to notice the helmet carefully secured around your waist, it might bring unwanted attention to your travels.

Though you were stripped of your insignia, you have your armour, which by some grace had been spared from confiscation. Though a seemingly trivial act of kindness, a sense of pride swelled within you as you gazed upon it. You are glad it is still yours. This armour had accompanied you through countless blood-soaked skirmishes, serving as a steadfast shield against all manner of danger. 

It is at that moment you decide to treat it as a trophy. Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying. Now, the armour which once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. You know that you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. Already, the whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path and in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence. Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was only the Fourth of the Tsaritsa's children, but she was the most combat-heavy, and no one wished to cross her, except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have immeasurable wealths of information that spill with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength a tad as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuttals the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening again.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly down on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such...devotion."

"It's strange, but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it just as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of Fourth Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it." 

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

God, these people are so dull. Just listening to them, you can tell they know nothing of the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth. 

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya." 

"So what if I am?"

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as it was before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and every human who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose. 

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte. 

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about. Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall that's called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night." Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you declare your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

-

Months pass before there is talk of the crowning of a new Harbinger, the people abuzz with the news and eager to know all they can, preferably before the aristocrats feel like sharing the night of the event. You considered attending the ceremony but ultimately decided against it. You may have the courage to do so, but you are certainly not stupid enough to wander into the waiting heart of the Fatui's clutches. You have waited patiently for this moment and can easily wait longer to hear the news.

No longer treating the inn like a home, you settled somewhere in the plains of another nation only a few weeks after you had first arrived there, sensing the barkeep was getting sick of you and the attention you were drawing to his otherwise obscure establishment. 

People settled there for a night, saw you were there, and word of mouth as they boasted of their encounters with you lured others who came to see you. While this influx of new customers certainly provided a boost to business, it also had the unintended consequence of driving away those who preferred to keep a low profile and valued its place as being for those 'in the know'. In other words, while you were great for a boom in business, you were bad for long-term business. 

The barkeep pushing the mora you tried to pay him to pay for another night was enough to send the message he wanted you gone, out by morning. The idea you were not to come back for quite some time was clear to you in the look he gave you.  

Liyue, on the other hand, is filled with mountains and teeming with visitors who have come to witness the highly anticipated Rite of Descension. Surprisingly, the influx of tourism only adds to the overall enjoyment of your experience. You would think that tourism would hinder your time there, but completely contrary it makes it better in a way. The locals are expecting an influx of outsiders to come to see the Geo Archon in person, and, as a result, they are not only willing to hire help for the time but also serve later at food stalls, and the place is livelier. 

People notice you less as you blend into a crowd of people who don't belong, and you slip under the radar.

You have no interest in the Rite of Descension nor the Geo Archon, and most of your time is spent outside the Harbour.

Wangshu Inn is still within Liyue but at a considerable distance from the Harbour, a mid-point between there and the border to Mondstadt. It is quieter, which is neither good nor bad, and home to some very understanding owners who ask so few questions it almost alarms you. Nonetheless, you crave respite from the chaos and theatrics you were revelling in as a reprieve from the stress you were under, wondering how you would live your life now. At one point, you relished being hailed as a hero by many, but it soon became overwhelming, and you found yourself trapped in the clutches of Brighella once again.

Whether by design or happenstance, your identity had begun to consume your life again, and if you wanted to have any hope of living outside of Brighella, then that had to stop. And so, you sought out a place to lay down your burdens and unwind, leading you to where you are now.

You arrive your old self, and despite clinging to it since your travels had begun, you remove every piece of your armour for what you intend to be a long time and leave it all neatly arranged for when you eventually return to it. You feel compelled to finally don the fresh outfit you acquired during your journey through Fontaine. Admittedly floor-length dresses and extravagance are not your style after years of being cooped up in a heavy suit of armour, but there's something alluring about trying out a new look, especially when it involves pants that don't weigh more than a third of your body weight. Besides, you always kind of liked them anyway, just...not yet. Now seems like a good time to dip your toes in.

You almost don't recognise yourself when you finally see yourself in the mirror. Perhaps you got too used to seeing a metal helmet staring back at you and a suit of armour for a body, but the fresh air against your skin and lighter clothes feels...good. 

For the first time in a while, you feel free.

The new outfit is making you giddy, too giddy for your taste. You don't recall having such an innate pep in your step, only one that felt deserved, but this different. While you typically associate a sense of satisfaction with having earned it through hard work or perseverance, this newfound exuberance seems to come from just existing in your new clothes. You are happy just because even if there is nothing to feel happy about. It's as if the simple act of wearing them has given you a boost, despite not having accomplished anything significant. It doesn't even seem like you made much progress toward becoming yourself when you lay it all out on paper. You bought clothes and wore them, that's it. 

Something about it feels so much like yourself. The freedom to stray from what you thought you were until now, something you hadn't dared to try before.

One thing you like about Wangshu Inn is how it serves even people who aren't staying there. The ground floor overlooking the water is designated as almost a kind of restaurant. People filter in and out to be served, stay for lunch, meet with friends, and take breaks from their missions. It is meant as a place for travelling merchants, but you find that is not all its patrons see in it.

You are not nearly as sociable as you were in the Snezhnayan bar you were at, but this seems more manageable anyway.

"If you've come looking for work, the Adventurer's Guild may have a place for you." A suggestion from a merchant who struck up an idle conversation with you for some reason sticks with you. You can't say why, but you imagine a product of boredom.

"They accept anyone?" Your surprise is evident in your tone, as you thought they might have tighter restrictions.

Just as in disbelief fact as you are, he shrugs, "As long as you've got enough power to back yourself, a friend of mine said they'll accept anyone."

That sounds far too good to be true, at least for your taste. "And it doesn't matter where you come from or where you go?"

"Adventurers are known to get restless in one place for too long."

"I see, and you can just go up a--"

"Excuse me, miss." You don't remember hearing that voice, but you recognise the attire when you turn your head just enough to be met with the sight of a cicin mage standing before you impatiently awaiting your attention. The top half of her face is concealed, as is customary, but there's no mistaking the unkind smile that tugs at the corners of her lips as you meet her gaze.

Has she come for retribution? 

Despite your fears of having to make a mess, the woman reveals a letter that is sealed with wax and extends it towards you, expecting you to receive it sooner rather than later as she waves it slightly as a form of incentive. "From the Damselette," she adds.

"What could the Damselette want with me?"

"Perhaps a warning." The words slip by, quiet but noticeable, immediately catching your attention. You raise an eyebrow at her. She's slowly unveiling her contempt at your presence; you're very aware of that fact. You are not familiar with her. It is unlikely that she ever worked under your command. However, it is possible that she might've held a certain level of regard, which has since turned to hostility as rumours of her arrogant killer run rampant. "I don't know. I'm not privy to those things."

Your eyes glance over her from head to toe in thought, scrutinising her for any indication of where her animosity came from. However, there is nothing that gives away her motives. You break your gaze away from her and glance down at the letter in your hand. "I suggest you get a better hold of your tongue. They don't like it when you're rude to their guests."

Her smile does not waver. "You are not a guest." She states that fact with glaringly false politeness.

"Everyone who recieves correspondence from a Harbinger is a guest."

You suppose you can't fault her disdain when all is said and done.

From somewhere tucked away in her clothing, she pulls what appears to be a knife from your peripheral vision and points it at you, but you look up to find it is only a blunt letter opener balanced in the palm of her hand, waiting to be picked up.

"I was ordered to stay until you had read the letter to deliver her your response."

Just as she believes you are a murderer, the letter addresses you as such. Your lies have reached her ears. Moreover, she is playing along with them.

You expected threats and unfair deals, but it is only an update on what is happening regarding your position, the reassurance that they have not violated the terms of the agreement made. A half-hearted apology and an excuse. Preparations set them back, supposedly.

While you imagine preparing not only a funeral but a ceremony to announce the next Harbinger does take time, it would not take this much time with how prepared they were to kill you off in the first place. It was a planned betrayal.

It just looks better if they don't appear so prepared.

For whatever reason, perhaps your consolation prize for enduring her shameless lies, she shares a secret with you. As you casually scan the letter with little care for its contents, your attention is immediately drawn to the heart of the matter. It's the very subject on everyone's minds and all that anyone speaks of. 

Il Capitano. His name is Il Capitano.

Personally, you would not have picked it, but that does not mean that you hate the name. Quite the opposite, in fact, as you have to admit that when you envision the name paired with his face, it suits him well. She ends the letter promising that she will 'take good care of him', though you know that your respective ideas of those words do not align or even coexist in the same universe. There is an unmistakable discrepancy between her intentions and your own, and you don't like it.

"Come back to us, Brighella. You can watch everything you wanted in person."

-

You won't go back. It's a trap.

Irritated, you find yourself back in the heart of the country where nobody lurks, haphazard in the way you fire your arrows at every creature that dares to disturb your sense of peace. It's hard to focus, and you don't bother trying. Liyue is not the same as Snezhnaya, with open plains broken up by rocky mountains. The creatures are mostly the same, and all die the same, hilichurls and geovishaps running rampant and shot down into piles of meat and rocks.

It doesn't matter how loudly you shout, as there's nobody around to hear it. You could scream, cry, and throw a tantrum all you want, and it won't matter. Even if you throw yourself at the ground and bang your head into the dirt, nobody will see it.

This is all pointless. You will never escape. It will never matter how far you roam or how fast you run.

Why did you think you could? Had your brain melted from your head?

There is no other side. There is no salvation. You are owned from the day you're brought in until the day you die, but why? Why did they want to bring you back to Snezhnaya? What was the point? You are out of the way now, hardly causing trouble for them. Despite this, everything seems to be running smoothly, even with the liberties you have taken in your new role. Was that it? The reason they wanted you to see?

It must be. There is no other reason to risk exposing the lie otherwise. Unless it was to tarnish the Fatui's reputation.

You refuse to believe it is something as innocent as wanting to see your request honoured. Nothing is innocent within the Fatui, not an action without hidden intentions or motives. Centuries of watching their misdeeds from the inside, which always go unpunished and unchallenged by anyone except the powerless commoners, have taught you that there is always an ulterior motive lurking behind their actions.

Not to mention it came from Columbina.

You must've spent three days out there before finally returning to Wangshu Inn, dirtied by the elements and craving something to eat, like a child's insatiable desire for sweets. The dead of night provides a cover for you to take a dip in the water beside the inn in an attempt to rinse the dirt and sweat off of you. It dawns on you that your new clothes would've been ruined if you hadn't had the foresight to change before venturing out again. In that moment, thoughts of the Fatui and the memories evoked by your armour flooded your mind, and you didn't want the same thing to happen to the clothes that had made you so happy from the moment you put them on.

It feels childish how you cling to these things.

A part of you just can't help it, torn between holding onto the memories that define who you believe yourself to be and starting anew with a clean slate. Neither can win. One is stuck on the past and what little you have of it, and the other wants to abandon all of that and start completely fresh.

The half-compromise you are trying desperately to make work by accepting that what's gone is gone while keeping your armour close to your heart is obviously not working. The thought of discarding it pains you too much to actually do it, plagued by the urge to melt it down to scrap metal while also being overwhelmed by the knowledge you will regret doing that as soon as you see the mess that would be left of it.

Your new clothes make you happy, so you need more new things to make you even happier, right? If new means you glean happiness, then more new is what will help you move past all of this deliberation in your head.

Clothes were a given, and...maybe a haircut? Yeah. You should try cutting your hair and decide on a name for yourself that isn't Brighella. Something you want, a name you like, that you can look at yourself and see that person reflected in a mirror. The person you think you are supposed to be when you look past the expectation that has been instilled in you.

That merchant you spoke to mentioned the Adventurer's Guild might have a place for you. What if you should be helping people instead of hurting them? What if you only did that to please the Tsaritsa?

In the background of your thoughts, you walk yourself back to your room at the Wangshu Inn and collapse onto your bed, thinking. Though you are exhausted, you cannot bring yourself to sleep for one reason or another. You make excuses for yourself just to ignore the glaring root of the problem you know is there but refuse to acknowledge. The problem isn't really how hot or cold the room is or the texture of your blankets and how much you dislike the humidity in the air. Something else entirely is keeping you from rest.

Your hair isn't the problem either, or your clothes. Even your lack of a proper name really doesn't bother you. They're only the illusion of change you're using to cover up how truly lost you have become now that you have to think for yourself.

How long have you been alive now? Centuries at least. You can't even live independently after that long? No. No, you can't.

You are so lonely, you are lost, you are confused. You need company, you need guidance, and you need purpose. How are you supposed to live? Where is the person who will tell you what to do every day? 

You have to make that choice yourself? You can't do that. You've never done that. 

The thought of even something so basic scaring you so severely brings you to a weakness you never realised you even possessed. Fear surges through the very depths of your being, an unfamiliar sensation that you find unsettling. You don't like it, but it's an impossible feeling to push down and ignore. Over the years, you had quietly collected your shortcomings into a neat little jar and pushed it aside, out of sight, away from your conscious thought, as if pretending you were invincible. 

What would you have done if you had gotten to Capitano? Make him decide?

He can't. He's not human. He doesn't know enough to decide. You've only made him just like you, a fearsome man until he's abandoned and vulnerable like you have become, and then he'll be pathetic and helpless too.

Nothing came out of any of your efforts, did it? It couldn't have possibly. Even with every attempt you made, it was always doomed to fail.

-

It turns out that the Adventurer's Guild was more than happy to take you in, in a way. They put you right to work. It helps to take your mind off of things if nothing else. It's mindless work, able to tune out everything in your brain and run on auto-pilot. You take to this life so well it scares you, completing your tasks with so little trouble you wonder how this isn't more popular, even if some are arguably unnecessary. If only you were good at proper cooking, you might get rich from the tens of requests for certain dishes. 

You're irresistibly drawn to the combat, right back to the heat of battle where you feel truly alive. In all you've had to question, your love for the thrill of fighting has never been up for debate. You're unsure whether it's the adrenaline or something else, but you don't care to know, either. You don't concern yourself with such questions. It's not important to you why, so long as you find comfort in it. It's the one thing you cannot be robbed of. 

A hard day's work is always rewarding.

"Make sure you be careful today." A fellow adventurer is quick to catch you before you can wander off for your next quest, smiling and unbothered despite his words. You've never met him, but he speaks as if you have.

Something about the bond of adventurers is so reminiscent of the Fatui.

You turn back to place your full attention on him rather than the grilled tiger fish you had acquired out of curiosity about the taste. "Why's that?" You're not too bothered, expecting him to tell you that it's dangerous out there, the Abyss Order existing and all.

"The Fatui are restless."

His words catch you off-guard, light in tone as they are. In outward appearances, he's mostly unbothered, while the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You try to grasp your bearings just enough to speak. "They don't do that for fun." Something about it is just as shaky as you expected, unable to fully mask it, but you figure he'll blame it on nerves.

"Harbinger, apparently." He doesn't draw attention to your demeanour, so neither do you.

"Which one?"

"Dunno."

It's probably Columbina. Maybe you pissed her off when you shot the messenger. Yeah, she probably wouldn't appreciate that. When you did it in a fit of anger, you expected her to find it funny after coming to your senses.

"Hey. Something wrong?"

You startle as you realise he had been speaking that whole time, and you just weren't listening.

"Sorry?"

"I said it's weird that they'd be up and about so soon after the newest was officially promoted."

You deadpan a little, realising it wasn't something of actual value, just a misconception that the greatest powers that be in Snezhnaya aren't spiteful enough to hate each other just as much as they hate everyone else. "Not really. They're not particularly sentimental."

"They don't even care to go out drinking for their own?"

"They hardly know how to tolerate each other." You realise your slip of the tongue too late, seeming too familiar. That's a problem. He barely draws attention to it, only making a strange face.

"Well, whatever the reason, work doesn't stop for them."

In silence, you agree and continue your day as if you really believe that.

-

As you wrap up your work for the day, you feel a sense of pleasant exhaustion wash over you. It struck you as strange that nobody was out in the wild, even the usual fatuus you avoid. Something about it was uniquely eerie. It dawns on you why he came to the conclusion that the Fatui were 'restless'. They must have retreated into the city to prepare for the impending arrival of the Harbinger destined to disrupt the small peace you had found. The sudden influx of fatuus in Liyue would make it seem like they are increasing in numbers nationwide when in reality, they are just moving.

You're not going to let it bother you for now.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you have promised yourself that repeatedly and have found it to be a lie, but you mean it this time. You're familiar enough with the workings of the Fatui to know that they don't like to leave sectors alone for too long, and Liyue had spent a fair time before your dismissal unchecked. 

Even at night, you remain unbothered when you wander Liyue for a time, looking for something to do and notice what he was talking about.

Many of them are fussing more than usual, meaning that chances are it's too late to inhibit the process of this Harbinger arriving. You could turn tail and run, scurry off to the other side of Teyvat and settle in Fontaine or even Natlan, but you like it here.

You sit in the heart of Liyue, listening to a speaker tell his stories. You know you shouldn't linger, but you tell yourself you can for just a little while longer. It reminds you of the past, filled with Liyue legends you remember hearing about as news at the time they took place. The fact these tales are now old enough to be suitable for a speaker's recitation as 'legends' is a grim reminder that maybe you're older than you realised. Your early life is now from the time of legends. You can push that feeling aside to focus on the nostalgia of hearing these stories.

Beside you, you hear the chair move but don't budge from looking to see who it is, assuming that all other chairs are taken or that it's an adventurer who got curious, possibly even the man you had spoken to earlier about all of the Fatui--

“Reminiscing, Brighella?”

You recognise both that voice and that name and go stiff, eyes finding her before your head can even turn in her direction.

In front of you—or rather, across from you—the Knave sits upon the other chair at your table as if she was always supposed to be there, seemingly at ease, but you know better than to assume her guard is down. Arlecchino has always had an icy composure, though she can be hot-headed at times and can lose her temper when provoked. It's not surprising that she was able to track you down, even without knowing what your face looks like.

She turns to you leisurely, unhurried. "I came to look for you since you missed the ceremony." It sounds like a greeting the way she speaks those words. You suppose it is one, really.

Ah, maybe you should've been worried after all.

You try to play off your emotions as if you're completely unfazed by her presence. It's the only way to maintain some semblance of control. "Did Columbina not like my gift?"

"Oh, she rather enjoyed it." Arlecchino maintains a similar composure, knowing approaching you in public means employing subtlety as much as it means she's less likely to be attacked. "She felt it was just the kind of gift you would give."

"I try my best not to disappoint." Your response is less enthusiastic than you might like, a hint of nervousness infesting your brain and refusing to budge.

Despite this, she doesn't notice, not outwardly. Really, that means nothing, as you are very aware of how good her poker face is. "Il Capitano hasn't stopped speaking about how much he'd like to kill you. You don't want to disappoint, do you?" When you were waiting for her to speak, those weren't the words you expected to hear, but somehow you're not fully surprised either.

"I see, so my lies reached even his ears." 

You thought as much.

"I think you'll be quite surprised when you see him." Her reply is so cocky that you almost scoff at her.

"Who said I would be seeing him?" You try to match the audacity she had to make such a remark.

She turns to you rather casually for the words she speaks, an odd tone you can't quite place, lacing her words half like mockery. "You miss him, don't you?"

It's that question that makes you snort and turn away as you realise that her negotiation and persuasion skills are abysmal for such a cunning and intelligent woman. "Not enough to become foolish enough to trust someone whose title denotes them as dishonest and untrustworthy." You always wondered about that, really. "A name like 'the Knave' really isn't subtle."

"Funny." She doesn't laugh or even smile. "I believe yours was something close to 'bother'."

You lean back in your chair, testing it slightly as you push the front legs off the floor as a means of entertaining yourself through this frankly dull conversation. "Then I suppose we're both living up to our names."

She remains silent for several seconds, pondering her next words. You can see her fingers rub against the wood of the chair as a distraction. 

"The others told me it was pointless to try to bring you back."

"They were right."

"You won't come back for any reason?"

"I know a trap when I see one."

"Of course."

Silence, again. You don't care to break it, either. You came to hear the stories, and you really would like to continue that rather than listening to her voice, but she's not making it easy.

"Is that all now?" Your voice shows your impatience more than you might like, but you realise it may work in your favour if she senses she's annoying you.

For the first time in a while, she smiles faintly to herself. "For now. Your answer is abundantly clear." She appears to concede, if only for a little while

You let the chair land back on all of its legs and lean your elbow on the table. 

"Are you going to get out of that chair?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"It's comfortable."

The urge to roll your eyes brims in your mind, but you stop yourself. You don't want to give the Knave the satisfaction of knowing something she is already well aware of. Besides that, you don't want her to know that you really don't want her here in any capacity. Arlecchino's presence is never a good thing.

You let out a tentative breath as you consider your next words quite carefully. The wrong thing might have Arlecchino never leaving you, and the right one might drive her back to Snezhnaya if you're lucky. You shift your whole body to face her. "You just arrived from Snezhnaya, I take it. What do you want to eat?"

She eyes you suspiciously, scrutinising you for any sign of trying to fool her into consuming poison or making herself sick. "You're feeding me now?"

You pretend you don't notice her intensity. "Well, you're not leaving. It would look strange for me to order food for myself."

Again she smiles to herself, a light mockery that's cautious and testing, easing herself into accepting your offer. "I wasn't aware you cared so much."

"You could starve if you'd prefer." You turn away as you speak and don't look back, shifting yourself back in your seat to be front-facing.

There's a quietness between the two of you, both waiting for the answer to your proposal. You have an inkling Arlecchino will accept, but you don't know with her. She never seemed especially pleased by the times the Jester would convene you all over meals and such, ending up in fights and bickering. She never fought with you, however, so perhaps it's different. 

"Order whatever you like."

You find yourself looking intently at a list of the options on the menu. It's quite a lengthy list. "Mm..." Even though it's just a false invitation and you're doing it to be courteous, you can't say you aren't enjoying the thought of picking out a meal and sharing it with her. Despite your removal from the Fatui's affairs for some time, you'd be lying if you thought you weren't at least a little curious. "Jade Parcels...and maybe Jade Fruit Soup? But Dragon Beard Noodles sound good too..."

Becoming slightly irritated by your indecision, Arlecchino looks across the table to where you are sitting deep in thought. "Is it that complicated of a decision?"

You spare her only a glance before returning to looking for something she would enjoy. "I have to pick something you'll like, don't I?"

Soup is more challenging to share than noodles are.

With that, your decision is made, and you settle. Despite yourself, you are somewhat restless in thought. Arlecchino's lack of contribution is slightly frustrating, but it sounds like she'd be content with anything. You're not sure if your choice is the correct one, but you believe you picked something to the best of your abilities that is easy, even to a foreign tongue. As far as you know, Arlecchino is from Fontaine. You've never eaten like this with Arlecchino to know her tastes or dietary restrictions.

"Jade Parcels and Dragon Beard Noodles. Sound good?"

"It'll do."

"Good. I'll go order it, then."

Arlecchino must be surprised that you returned, as she doesn't seem too thrilled. She never really does, but there was a disappointed glint in her eye right up until you walked in front of her to get to your chair. 

It continues until you get the food, and Arlecchino finally stares at it with an overwhelming sense of dread, left with an intense feeling of apprehension regarding whether. You appear not to hesitate, though this arrangement isn't quite what she had expected. Arlecchino had thought you would order enough dishes that you wouldn't have to share, but you seemed to understand it in a way that meant you would be eating from the same bowl.

You notice her hesitation almost immediately, yet your vexation with her arrival makes you unwilling to acknowledge that you know the reason, a deliberate miscommunication on your part. "Mm. I didn't think this through." Your words seem to make her perk up as if you will free her from her awkwardness by asking for another bowl. "You probably aren't used to using chopsticks, are you? Not many dishes that need those back home."

She knows you're toying with her, that sweet smile from across the table hardly hiding your true intentions. Arlecchino waits, watching to see what you will do next, as she looks back at you with a scowl. 

Her eyes do not leave you as you wordlessly collect a Jade Parcel and present it to her like you are patronising her with this action. Your feigned kindness, this supposed benevolence of you offering to feed her like a child, no doubt hoping she'll back down and excuse herself completely. 

She won't let you do that and have the satisfaction of seeing her back down. She won't allow you to break her facade of acceptance.

Though you circle the food in front of her slowly, only a motion with your fingers trying to convince her or make her as uncomfortable as possible, Arlecchino continues to stare for several more moments. Eventually, she musters the courage to relinquish some of her pride.

Arlecchino leans in slightly, just enough to open her mouth and take a bite from the food you hold out for her. Despite the circumstances that led to this moment, she can't help but acknowledge your good taste. Arlecchino couldn't possibly eat another bite that way, though. Not being fed by the woman who is now her adversary just to avoid her 'winning' in the situation, but admitting she is willing to let you get under her skin is not an option either.

She must treat this situation differently, as if you are merely feeding her out of obligation to her rather than because you have your own motives.

It hardly stops her from enjoying her portion of the meal from the chopsticks you share with her. At some point, it finally occurs to her that you only hold one pair, leaving her set untouched despite feeding her. You had been feeding her with the same set you ate with the entire time, and while you were well aware of that, it hardly seemed to alarm you as much as it alarmed her.

Your biggest disappointment was being unable to get rid of her that whole time, watching her readily accept whatever you tried to use against her. Watching a Harbinger practically bow their head and obey you, however, fuels your consciousness. It's like eye candy to think back and realise you did that.

It's another one of your quiet defiances against the Tsaritsa. You wonder how far you can take it.

As you stand from your seat, you stretch your arms above your head until you hear a faint pop as all the tension in your back relaxes. "I don't imagine you'll be leaving anytime soon."

"No. I have plenty of business outside of you." It's not a lie. She's got a lot to do in Liyue even without your presence, but you're a priority. 

You lean back over your chair, a mischievous little look on your face. "Do tell."

"You know that I can't do that." She's not amused by the attempt, either.

You straighten back to your usual height and brush it off in moments. "Unfun. I thought your loyalty to the Tsaritsa could be won over easily." 

She scowls. "Not by you."

"I see. You have standards after all."

She chooses to ignore your comment. Up until now, you have had quick-fire conversations, sometimes interrupted by a silence that drags on. This is no exception.

"Capitano truly believes you are dead." Arlecchino realises when she has caught your attention, and that time is now. She notices how your head tilts towards her ever so slightly, and your head raises. "For a time, he grieved, but it didn't last long. He has become fixated on the idea of revenge ever since he heard that Brighella's killer was running around boasting about their achievements with the authentic armour to support their claims."

Suddenly it makes some small amount of sense in your mind why they would want you to come back exactly. Capitano won't stay put forever. If he's stuck on vengeance, he won't rest until he exacts it. You weren't thinking about how much your stories would piss him off at the time.

When you spend an extended period of time silent and seemingly disinclined to answer, Arlecchino continues. "I want to show you to him."

You have subjected him to human emotions he's not equipped to deal with. Rightfully, you feel horrible like more of your failures are being wrenched from your corner and dumped out into the open for all to see. It doesn't matter that you're in Liyue, where nobody knows the two of you. You don't want them to see either. 

"He wouldn't want to see me." You don't think she really wanted to hear those words when you finally speak. Her expression gives it away. "He should enjoy his position without my interference. I've ruined his life enough."

"You've given him power and status, he should be grateful for that--"

"No. He shouldn't." You don't even wait for her to finish. She hasn't even realised it yet. Not the way you've been forced to. That power is a detriment, not a blessing. Why should he want that? "I thought that way as well, but now I…I don't think my choice was the correct one."

Arlecchino was not expecting to evoke your vulnerability, shallow as it may be for now. "What choice?"

"To bring him back from the abyss." 

From a purely objective perspective, taking in Capitano was the cause of everything. Arlecchino presumably thinks of it in the way you don't want her to, that you regret taking him in because he ultimately ruined everything for you, causing your world to fall apart. You don't. You wish you hadn't dragged him down with you.

Now Capitano still dealing with the consequences of your choices. He was perfectly satisfied where he was and would've remained that way had he not been caught up in your plans. It was your arrogance that made you think Capitano would prefer to come with you. At no point in your first interaction had he indicated he was displeased in his circumstances, only hostile because humans were so close to him. It is an understandable thing, considering that humans were a foreign concept to him and potentially posed a threat.

"Because he overtook you?" 

There it is.

Despite her words, she appears to have dropped her irritated expression and the impatience in her words and actions. You are finally speaking, and she won't lose that opportunity to an avoidable break in her temper.

"No. No, nothing like that." You try to find the words to explain it, even knowing she likely wouldn't understand it in her current position. You doubt she could ever comprehend it with how she treats her loyalty. "It's more like… Off the record, though I was cherished for many years, even I eventually became disposable. I have left Capitano in the hands of the person who caused that, and now I have damned him to the same fate."

Arlecchino is silent in thought, mulling over your words with great care. The tone of the conversation shifted right under your noses, and with it, so did her demeanour. She became relaxed in a way, though you imagine no less guarded than she always is. "I fail to see how your performance declined. In fact, you are more necessary now than you have ever been."

"I see." In your head, that means she's on your side to a degree. "So you believe that my termination was a mistake?"

"A grave error at best." Her words only confirm the way you thought of it. "Even if you had declined in performance, the people have begun to question more than ever, which sabotages the political landscape of Snezhnaya for those who care about it, the same people who stood idly by while you were ousted. Those who oppose the Fatui are pushing the notion that we must be weaker than we appear, because if even Brighella could die, then what does that say for the rest of us."

Though you wish you could say that concept was inconceivable, the idea that those fighting for reform would seize upon your demise as a means to spur change. It's not shocking that everyone else has been called into question, either. Though it is easy to push the role of frontrunner onto the Director, his duty is mainly administrative, as is the case with many high-ranking positions. His wrath is quick and brutal, and sparse. Dottore is too busy with his disgusting hobbies, and Columbina must remain in the light as a figure they can cling to. That leaves the position of Fourth as the one who is publicly the most violent and ruthless, which used to fall to you.

"I see. Is that why they want me to come back?" You don't expect an honest answer as you ask that question, half anticipating another play at your heartstrings.

"No." 

Frustratingly, she doesn't elaborate.

"I'll only agree to return if Capitano is free to do as he wishes."

She scoffs, somewhat returning to her brash attitude. "Even if I could make that decision, we're well past the point where that's a possibility."

You know that she's correct in that.

Still, you can't stop the sight you let out. You knew the request was wonderful in theory but inconceivable in practice, but asking never hurt anyone. "Then what do you want from me? I take it that though I'm only a stagehand, my part in the theatre is not yet over."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Answer my question."

"Execution."

You pause at her answer.

"Execution?"

You're not even sure you heard her correctly. The execution of who? Brighella has already been put to death, and Capitano has barely warmed his seat among the Harbingers. Nobody left in this is worth killing, given the precarious nature of the Fatui's support in the aftermath of Brighella's murder. It was already unstable, and now things are just worse, with no better word to describe.

You doubt they made the decision lightly.

"Execution. Your execution for the murder of Brighella and crimes against the state."

Your nerves instantly spike again, and your guard is higher than ever. At any moment, you could need to draw your bow and fight her because even though you're unsure of how to treat this life, you're not ready to give it up. No foe has scared you before, and neither will the prospect of rebuilding from square one.

"I see, so you've come to extradite me."

"You read my intentions horribly. I'm impressed you managed to make it so far like that."

You furrow your brows in annoyance. "Then what?"

"The values of the Fatui no longer align with mine." The assertion draws your attention more than anything else. You have always been aware that she is unconcerned with the ideas of loyalty and honour, which you can't fault her for. Abiding by the code of honour the Tsaritsa instilled in you left you here.

You may be completely wrong, but she was so vague and doesn't seem to be waiting to say anything else. "Is this your way of telling me you're deserting the Fatui?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You so happen to be someone I like." 

You're startled by that as well. As far as you were aware, the decision to do nothing in the face of your dismissal was unanimous. You thought Capitano was your only remaining ally. Even if she's the lowest ranking, that is not indicative of power in an objective sense but of authority. In a sense, she is the new 'you' of the Harbingers, as she always was to a degree. 

Blame for the disorder is shifting in your absence to her.

"Because I cleaned the messes you now manage?"

"Because you aren't cowardly and fixated on politics but inhibited by them. You are a model of what is right." You can't say you follow what she's saying but allow her to continue. "Pulcinella and even Pierro refuse to travel abroad, always making excuses to shirk their jobs when faced with danger in order to comfortably remain in luxury. From the day I joined, you stood out to me in that way."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by whatever she's trying to do right now. "Are you trying to flatter me into coming back?"

"I was telling the truth." She doesn't look impressed, either.

You feel a little embarrassed by that, suddenly feeling as though you really had responded quite rudely to an innocent statement. "Hearing a person idolise me is strange," you admit.

"It's not idolising." Her correction is sharp.

"Sounded close enough."

Silence again, as with the pauses scattered around the rest of your conversation. You aren't catapulting the topic into something of great interest or progressing, and neither is Arlecchino. Her lips press into a thin line trying to hide any cracks and stifle any emotion that slips through.

"I admire you."

You did not realise such a thing was possible, really.

"I thought you may have remembered the times we shared and think fondly of it, but perhaps not. We fought once- maybe twice- before. We drank together. Nothing else."

To end that statement with 'nothing else' as if to reduce every conversation, interaction, hour and experience to ashes is thoughtless at best. You didn't remember either instance in which Arlecchino believes you fought and still don't, though you try to now that you have come to find it apparently happened. If it did, the chances of you actually remembering is slim to none with how your memory is. It's not that you forget things quickly, but that minor events slip through the cracks in your frankly chock-full memory.

"I don't remember them, I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to."

Despite her words, there is a faint bittersweetness to it, the realisation you are insignificant to the person you aspire toward being like. Somewhere, even if she is aware it was always not only a possibility but highly likely, it still feels like a letdown, the fragile hope you might remember her strength. You only remember her drunken and all too enamoured by you to think properly. It is foolish of her to feel that way because you have battled many foes, and expecting you to remember all of them, let alone your underling, is unreasonable.

"You still haven't answered my question." Changing the topic, you take the opportunity to try to direct her back to what you asked in the first place. "Why are you really here?"

"The Jester gave me permission to pursue you, believing I would attempt to convince you to return to Snezhnaya after Columbina failed." As Arlecchino begins to explain, it slowly begins to make sense as the pieces fall neatly into place. "However, I have no interest in appeasing the wants of dignitaries who care only for their comfort."

You don't want that either. It's just a repeat of Capitano. "Do you understand how dangerous what you're doing is?" It's an attempt to remind her, but Arlecchino's unwavering expression tells you that reminders are unnecessary and unwanted.

"Yes, you were removed for less." She only confirms it for you. "Dottore is of the opinion that you will be forgotten, as are several others-" you imagine singling him out has something to do with them fighting all the time- "but that is simply impossible."

"Times change. You would be surprised how many things we thought would never be forgotten that humans have completely lost all knowledge of."

To her, that concept may be harder to swallow. Arlecchino has never seen the centuries roll by as you have and isn't as familiar with what does and does not remain. Even the greatest gods fell in the Archon War, and most humans cannot name any but the seven Archons. It is natural to forget and progress. The past is meant to become speculation and theory.

"I won't allow that." Abruptly she stops, though her sudden words startle you somewhat with how intense they are. That kind of illogical thought process is natural, maybe. You can't really say. "They could remember."

You shake your head in response, a firm denial before she's even begun to try and sell you on the idea. "There's no need for them to remember."

"There is every need."

"People don't glean the same admiration you do for someone they see as a tyrant."

"Then evoke fear!"

"Enough." You did not expect to have to put your foot down so harshly but do not hesitate to. "I won't entertain this."

Arlecchino grits her teeth at how easily you let go. Even though you are obviously not acclimated to civilian life, you refuse her offer that would allow you to return to Snezhnaya in a potential position of power. It is yet another failed step in the many she expected to have to take to convince you.

"Then let me hide you until some time passes."

"I'm not a precious treasure." She ignores how you roll your eyes at her, completely withdrawing how emotionally available you had managed to be. She can't let her anger take control of her again. "I can handle myself thank you very much." 

You sense she will not be giving up easily.

Even if you could convince her to leave you to your devices and that you would be fine, you doubt she would accept that. However, you have a feeling she knows you intend to disappear after this conversation. You have no idea why else she would pour her heart out in an attempt to make you easier to keep hold of. If you leave, you hold the advantage.

"I cannot continue to defend your honour while you stand by and allow them to do as they please with your name."

That doesn't worry you too much when you've been contributing to it since leaving. "Then give up. Let my name be tarnished."

Arlecchno's anger finally begins to boil over despite her efforts to contain it, rage spilling from the cracks in her composure. "You cannot have forgotten everything we did together."

"Of course I have not forgotten that." Your words are more fuel than suffocation to the growing fire.

"Then accept my help and stop being so stubborn."

"There's no need to."

She grabs you by your arm before you can step away, and you can feel a chill in her hand seep into your skin, likely a byproduct of her delusion. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't match well with how warm you are most of the time. "You would be willing to pretend you don't wish for normalcy to avoid confronting the Tsaritsa?"

"If I return to Snezhnaya, I will die." You lay it out as directly as possible, without an if, but or and. There's no room to debate this because the outcome will not change. Even if the two of you decide you're best friends, nobody else will see things that way, so it's pointless to pretend you don't see it as it has to be.

Arlecchino finally appears to consider your words more carefully, remaining silent again, but you do not interrupt her this time. You shift your focus to the icy hand still touching you and begin to channel what little you can of your vision without drawing your bow to warm her. You hope she doesn't notice it, not wanting her to find an ulterior motive in it.

"Then it is unavoidable."

You don't quite understand what she is saying until she removes her hand from you to place something on the table you shared.

Suspiciously, you eye the item as you wonder about the significance of abandoning it beyond the obvious, but you don't want to acknowledge that option. "You'll need your insignia if you wish to return." You needn't remind her of that, but it is a prompting statement.

Arlecchino shocks you with her next words.

"I'm remaining with you."

You stand in stunned silence for several seconds, replaying them over in your head. Remaining with you. She doesn't mean that, does she? This is another of her persuasion tactics, right? She cannot actually go through with this. "You're what?"

"I'm not going back to Snezhnaya."

That only confirms your fear, the chill of it rushing to the core of your being and lighting your nerves up with an icy cold. Maybe that's just the hand touching your cheek.

"You can't. You shouldn't. You should stay there."

She makes an odd face at you, half understanding of your plight and the other confused about why you care so much about what she does with her job. "In that place you curse yourself for leaving Capitano?"

"It's a comfortable position." You try to reason that way with her, pointing out the inarguable benefit.

"I don't care for comfort."

You scramble to find another reason, something else to make her give in and pick it back up. You have not gotten anything you attempted to get this night. Arlecchino didn't leave and is, in fact, intent on leaving the Fatui to continue that.

"I don't care to waste my time pandering to people who do not value what I provide for them, all the while relying on it."

That's not a reason you wish to say, but it is. It is a very real reason. You can see it in how the Fatui regards your circumstances that they have never found enough value in the mountain of work you took on. If they had, you wouldn't be having this conversation. She's right, you realise, she realised what you could not.

"Even if you do not allow it, I would be able to follow you." It's a strange thing to say, but maybe she was trying to convince you. Her arm falls back to her side.

You shake your head. "Humans tire."

"I won't be too slow."

It's different for her. Arlecchino doesn't hulk around a bulky suit of armour and a helmet to conceal her face. It is open and well-known. There will be places she can't ever travel to again. Her life will be this and nothing else, while yours will eventually become something else, as it was always supposed to. Even if you don't want to now, you will move on and find a new sense of self. She may never.

"There are grave consequences."

"I know."

"You may never know peace."

"I can live with that."

"You--" 

--will question everything you have ever known. That was what you were about to say. You again come to a realisation that clears things for you. It's different. Arlecchino has not spent her whole life dedicated to serving the Tsaritsa, only a few years at best. You spent centuries. It is no wonder that she could give it all up so easily. Arlecchino only had one foot in the door in the first place.

The realisation dawning on you this way is daunting.

"...Fine. I will accept that." Though you thought you would struggle more, you also understand that it is useless to do so.

"A good choice."

The act of conceding can bring about a sense of relief and comfort. Conceding feels nice, in a way. It is a respite from constantly controlling everything to be exactly as you wish. It allows you the freedom of simply acknowledging the reality of a situation and accept that it may not align with your ideals, even if you don't necessarily like it.

You don't want Arlecchino to accompany you for her sake, but accepting that she will not share your fate of being humiliated can bring about a sense of peace. She will live however she pleases, and that means she may not want for the same future you received. Having a free will allows her to leave.

Slowly, you try to recover from the shock of the situation. As you take in a deep, quivering breath, you begin to steady yourself and attemt to process all that is unfolding.

A single question comes to your mind, a relatively simple one but significant enough to matter greatly.

"What is your name?"

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

#♡ — kae. #✦ — scenarios. #✦ — angst. #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x female reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader

[lookbluesoup]

Hydaelyn in Endwalker

At the risk of looking stupid online I'm going to field my perplexions about Hydaelyn that've been bothering me for months lol This post is... a little Hydaelyn critical. But I do offer that in good faith, I LOVE the character and I'm not trying to just trash her, I'm genuinely interested to hear other perspectives about it. (But please be nice, everyone is entitled to their own take)

Also this is not in response to anyone else's post. I haven't even seen any Hydaelyn posts circulating lately. I'm not vagueing anyone or trying to start drama. Just trying to sort out my own feelings about this character.

So my main takeaway from MSQ was that love is, ultimately, what saves you. That humans (including Ancients!) aren't perfect, and cannot love perfectly, but the shared love of you and others is still what saves you.

And, also, that grief is a part of life. Mistakes are a part of life. Conflict and loss happen, but they need not destroy you. Stand for doing right as best that you can, forgive yourself and keep trying, keep loving - both yourself and others.

There was an incredible amount of emphasis on not judging or hating one's enemies, about accepting the humanity in all of us and coming together, which I really loved.

There was also, of course, a huge rejection of self-sacrifice and martyrdom.

I saw all those themes in the Dark Knight quests a LOT (especially before the English translation changed so many scenes), and I assume Ishikawa was continuing that theme from Shadowbringers onward.

So again! I don't hate Hydaelyn!

But I feel like... at least in the English translation, she is still treated with excessive reverence, like a goddess, by the Scions - even ones it didn't really make sense to after her origin came out, like Y'sthola.

And at least on my first playthrough, while I like Venat a lot and love the drama of the Final Days pushing everyone into points of desperation, to their breaking points, and her decision to sunder the world definitely did ultimately help (help!) make it possible for us to defeat the Endsinger... I dunno.

To me she was still subject to the same arrogance as the rest of the Ancients. Whether her decision paid off or not, she still took into her hands the fate of the entire Star, she still made a decision that would result in millions of deaths.

And if we're going by Hydaelyn's own assertion, that each reincarnation is their own person, not just a missing piece of a whole... then to achieve her goal of a better world, she killed all the remaining Ancients except those three.

She chose to create a world where death and trauma would affect generation after generation - and she can say that it was for the greater good, for the world to survive. But that was essentially the Convocation’s justification too, in creating Zodiark and orchestrating the Rejoinings. Committing genocide to prove that genocide is wrong… is not noble.

The cutscene with her sundering the world, where the people insist they'll return to a world free of sorrow underneath a burning sky, could also NOT be how it actually happened. It had to be representational of her feelings and conclusion. Becoming Hydaelyn took coordination with her followers and planning.

At least in English, idk about the original Japanese, Hythlodaeus's shade describes the time of the Sundering as if the world wasn't in utter ruin at that point. It was beginning to heal, they had restored some natural systems, but the Ancients were short in numbers. At that point, they were done sacrificing their own people, in time they were going to sacrifice other life - plants and animals, to restore those lost brethren.

At the very least, Hythlodaeus's completely different account shows that the two sects of people post-Zodiark were viewing their sacrifice and end goal in completely different ways. Ethics aside, whether the competing goal was achievable or not… we will never know, because Venat stopped it from happening.

But I don't think either recounting has a monopoly on the truth. There was no One Truth, there were just competing needs and perspectives. And though Venat insists that unity is necessary to avert the Endsinger - she perpetuates this division. Azem refused her followers call to help summon Hydaelyn, and I think that's significant.

But I'll also acknowledge that Azem didn't manage to save the Ancients, either.

And you could argue that the Ancients were their own worst enemy. They kind of were.

Hermes was a really, really great caricature of severe, untreated Depression. And he had the powers of a god. His creations were sent to find a specific answer in the world beyond, and like their creator, they didn't have the tools to process hearing an answer other than what they were expecting. They were trapped in their own perspective. He was looking for answers in the stars, instead of in himself. Their own pain and inability to engage with emotion in a healthy way overwhelmed every encounter they had and created the very reality he so feared.

He did not use the proper channels for peer review before sending them out on their mission. Those rules, those checks and balances, that community approach to design, existed to protect the Ancients from their own power, and he deliberately acted in secret. He isolated himself from society, convinced himself his pain was something nobody could understand, made an island of himself and doubled down on his own jaded beliefs.

I don't know what kind of mental health facilities were available to the Ancients - we just don't have that information. But I do know that he was treated with patience and forgiveness by a significant number of colleagues, and his quirks weren't held against him. People did try to help and accommodate him, even if they didn't always understand. He had been promoted to a powerful position. I don't know if it's fair to blame anyone in particular, or even their society, for what happened. Because again... everyone was doing the best they could with what they had.

If anything, the problem was that literally any Ancient could have made a similar mistake in the right situation. They were ALL that powerful. Eventually chaos would happen. Sundered souls can certainly create destruction, but not on the same scale.

I don't personally agree with Hydaelyn's decision not to reach out to the Convocation. I understand being careful, and thinking through what the next step should be before acting. But there's a LOT of "maybes" in this argument:

And ultimately, it's her doing the same thing as Hermes, putting the power of judgement over an entire people in her own hands. She's assuming that she is in a unique position to decide the fate of the entire Star. It's not evil. But it's arrogant. She wasn't special among the Ancients, gifted with some unique wisdom. She was doing the best she could from her own perspective.

Plus... if half your population, and then another half again are about to sacrifice themselves... what have you got to lose by outing Hermes and/or trying to work with the Convocation to avert that loss of life? We don't have all the details, I'm willing to accept that there were circumstances that made it impossible, or at least made Venat decide against trying it. But even so. What did you have to lose leading up to the summoning of Zodiark? There was already panic and destruction at that point.

Hydaelyn sacrificed a lot of people to accomplish her goals. She made a goddess of herself and manipulated people like Minfilia on that basis. She killed so many children and stole so many lives even just by reincarnating Minfilia over and over on the First. She misrepresents the nature of the Ascians to the WoL, keeps secrets, and essentially charges you with being a crusader in her Holy War.

It's Emet- Selch who tries to bridge the gap. Not Hydaelyn. It's him who's willing to consider trying to achieve his goals without bloodshed, if you, the WoL, are strong enough. He says this to himself, out of anyone else's hearing. There's no reason for it to be a lie.

And just before Mt. Gulg, you can see Emet starting to question his beliefs about humanity because of the WoL's accomplishments. Hydaelyn has nothing to do with that. It's all you. And Emet succumbs to his own weaknesses too, so we never get to know what that might have happened if you'd had more time with him. He's not better than her.

But I think it's significant that he's the one who reaches out. Who's willing to consider a compromise at all.

In war you make sacrifices, I get that. But she was not more heroic, somehow, than the Ascians. Both sides were doing terrible things and denying the agency of mortals in order to achieve their ideal world.

So to me... she was not a benevolent incomprehensibly wise mother figure. Much like in real life we go from being kids who trust our moms implicitly, to adults who realize our mother was human and made mistakes, I think we’re supposed to recognize that Hydaelyn didn't do everything right and its our job to carry the future forward for subsequent generations, to learn from what came before, and hope that our own children do the same and forgive us for our own mistakes.

I think its very important to note that the WoL is just as much the Convocation's creation as Hydaelyn's. Without being rejoined as many times as they were, the WoL wouldn’t have survived. She saves you from the Ultima Weapon, Emet-Selch saves you from Elidibus, and its their powers combined that save you and your friends from the Endsinger. You are the legacy of each side’s imperfect love, equally.

WHICH brings me to my point of perplexion. Hydaelyn continues to be venerated. NPCs who know what happened continue to emphasize her side of things. I feel I must be missing something, because to me, the finale of Endwalker essentially shattered any idea that this was a Light vs Dark kind of story. People made choices. People made mistakes. It wasn't good or evil. It was human. We survived in spite of our mistakes because love was more powerful than our imperfections.

The Scions sacrificed themselves one by one just like the Ancients. And got brought back using energy from the Star... not all that different than what the Ascians had planned to do with their own brethren. I just don't see much functional difference there in the sentiments between either side.

I don't think we're supposed to hate Hydaelyn. I don't think she was evil. But I don't think she was better than the Ascians.

So while I don't expect, or want, characters to be condemning her left and right in the narrative, it's still baffling to me that there's such consistent, explicit reverence for her.

#ffxiv #ff14 #hydaelyn #venat #emet-selch #ascians #ancients #meta #shower thoughts #long post #endwalker spoilers #dark knight spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #text

[melonthesprigatito]

My idea on who I think would make the PERFECT villain for The Incredibles 3 (not that they're ever going to make one, this could also just be a fanfic idea)

NaNoWriMo somehow dragged me kicking and screaming back into my The Incredibles hyperfixation that I haven't thought about since 2021. Drafting up a long Tumblr post in my Notes app for a few days totally counts, right? (Probably not but whatever, I am fukcing passionate about The Incredibles lore, I need to ramble)

So, the villains of The Incredibles and Incredibles 2 are both genius inventors with no superpowers who use their technology to fight the heroes. What if, for the third villain, they ditched that idea and had a villain who was a Super?

Who'd be able to fill that role? Would they invent an entirely new character who is a Super? It wouldn't be too farfetched of an idea, they did invent two new Super supervillains in Lego Incredibles, The Anchor Man and Brainfreezer, one with hydrokinesis and the other with.... functionally cryokinesis like Frozone except she controls ice cream. 

But what if... the villain was an already existing Super? That already poses a problem, a majority of the Supers in the present day of The Incredibles are either dead from Syndrome's Omnidroid or an unfortunate cape snag. The only surviving Supers from the pre-Super Ban Glory days are Mr Incredible, Elastigirl and Frozone and possibly Fironic and Plasmabolt (and only because they never showed up in Syndrome's Operation KRONOS database.)

Fironic is pretty ambiguous if he's still alive or not, but Plasmabolt for its practically a 100% chance of survival for a few reasons:

1. Her profile says she keeps her hero and civilian lives strictly separate, so she might have had no desire to go moonlighting as a hero like Mr Incredible did

2. She's a forest park ranger. She probably lives off-grid in a shack in the woods or something. 

3. The way Psycwave, Everseer and Macroburst are killed one after the other, but Plasmabolt isn't counted with them. All four of these Supers were part of a superhero team called The Phantasmics. Mirage probably used their connection to find all of them, maybe Plasmabolt fell out of contact with her old friends.

Plasmabolt herself might have been a good villain candidate, having lost faith in humanity after learning how the National Supers Agency failed to keep track of her old friends, of all the Supers, and didn't notice that Syndrome was picking them all off. 

Buuuuuut she's not the one this post is about. There's another that would probably be an even better villain, mostly because she has a personal tie to one of the main characters.

This is one of the features on the bonus disk of The Incredibles: a full set of character files and audio interviews of most of the Supers (except for Tradewind, Vectress, Blitzerman and Fironic. They didn't get profiles.) 

It's listed in alphabetical order, featuring Apogee, Blazestone, Downburst, Dyna Guy, Elastigirl, Everseer, Frozone, Gamma Jack, Gazerbeam, Hypershock, Macroburst, Meta Man, Mr Incredible, Phylange, Plasmabolt, Psycwave, Stratogale, Splashdown, Stormicide, Thunderhead and Universal Man. 

The one I want to draw attention to is this one. 

(Side note, it’s kinda frustrating that the only way to find images of most of these guys in colour is to look for random comic strips and the freaking Lego game of all things. I’m just gonna link this fan art too because I think it rocks and is probably the best image of her https://www.tumblr.com/pazam/183219465026/no-gadgets-no-gimmicks?source=share)

THIS, is Blazestone, the blorbo- I MEAN, the Super I think would make a great villain in a hypothetical third Incredibles movie. Or a Frozone spinoff movie. Either works. 

I think she'd make a good villain for a number of reasons.

1. SHE'S ALREADY BEEN THE MAIN VILLAIN OF ANOTHER OFFICIAL THE INCREDIBLES STORY. 

Let me highlight something important from her profile. "ARRESTED AND JAILED. RECRUITED BY NSA. WATCH CLOSELY TO ENSURE SHE OPERATES WITHIN NSA GUIDELINES" 

That's right, Blazestone is actually a reformed criminal. This one little detail from her profile is a major plot point in the novel Elastigirl: A Real Stretch.

She was paired with Universal Man as part of her rehabilitation. In the novel, they're constantly arguing, they constantly insult each other. Universal Man is an incredibly strict rule follower and tries to keep her in line. He thinks she'll never make it as a true Super if she doesn't follow the guidelines and acts recklessly ("THESE TWO WOULD BE GREAT IF THEY DON'T KILL EACH OTHER FIRST")

She hates being constantly monitored and forced into teams with other Supers and wishes they'd give her the freedom to do what she wants, as opposed to being constantly badgered into being a better person and following the guidelines

Eventually, Blazestone gets so sick of the National Supers Agency that snaps and decides that the only way she'll be able to do what she wants is to KILL ALL THE OTHER SUPERS SO THERE'S NO ONE TO STOP HER FROM TAKING OVER. 

In fact, her plan involves 

1. Steal a shipment of the ZAP chemical (the novel's McGuffin, a radioactive chemical used as a superpower enhancer that has various effects depending on which Super it's used on. For most of them, it disables their powers entirely, for some it makes their powers malfunction and Apogee is the only Super who's powers are actually enhanced by it.) 

2. Secretly recruiting all the criminals she jailed as her henchmen and breaks them out of jail on the day of the Super Appreciation Day celebrations. These henchmen are disguised as other Supers and blend in with all the other cosplayers entering the Costume Contest. 

3. Attack the Supers Appreciation Day celebration at the pier. Trap EVERY SINGLE SUPER inside a band shell covered by a net that's coated ZAP which basically fucks up all of their powers. She then lifts the band shell off the ground and was heading towards the ocean to drop it in and drown them all.

 (a few pages later)

.... I'm serious, that's what actually happens in the climax. 

Never mind the fact that she's touching the net covered in the chemical that needed to be handled with heavy gloves WITH HER BARE HANDS BECAUSE HER SUPERSUIT HAS SHORT SLEEVES in order to lift the band shell. ...And the fact that she has no super strength so shouldn't have been able to carry the weight of a structure and 20+ Supers.

Blazestone actually mentioned earlier in the novel that ZAP had no effect on her, and while the novel never mentions it, my theory is that Blazestone is the only other Super who's powers are enhanced by ZAP. Apogee was also powered up by ZAP... in small doses but being that close to the netting enhanced her powers too much so she couldn't assist in the climax without incinerating everyone with the power of the sun. Blazestone must have lied about ZAP not having an effect on her to eliminate her as a suspect for the theft of the ZAP. 

ANYWAY, Blazestone went full supervillain and that's the last we heard of her until she showed up dead in Syndrome's Project KRONOS database. Between Supers Appreciation Day and the beginning of the Super Ban, she might have resumed her criminal activities and became part of Municiberg's Rogues Gallery. 

As the Super Ban went into effect she might have been kept in a maximum security facility for a few years until she managed to break out into a world where Supers are in hiding. She might have used her powers to commit smaller robberies to survive, which might have been how Mirage tracked her down..

But wait, she's dead isn't she? So how could she possibly be the main villain of Incredibles 3 if she's dead?

2. SHE'S ONE OF THE FEW SUPERS WHO COULD HAVE PLAUSIBLY SURVIVED THE OMNIDROID BY FAKING HER DEATH.

She's the 6th Super to have been killed by Syndrome, and is probably the Super Syndrome tested the Omnidroid's fireproofing on, hence when it's immune to lava. 

Except.... Blazestone could have been marked as "Terminated" when she really wasn't.

But how, exactly? The model of Omnidroid that killed her was v.X2 (the highest being v.10) so it was a VERY early model. Too early to have all the little issues ironed out. Perhaps there was a flaw that Blazestone exploited that kept her alive. 

There's also Blazestone's powerset.  She has a threat rating of 5.5, which sounds low until you realise that the highest is Gamma Jack with 7.9 Her powers are listed as pyrokinetic discharge, heat control, heat resistance, high agility and flight (by riding on heated air) which is pretty OP by itself but there's one power not listed on the file that Blazestone mentions having.

From the Bonus Disk Audio Interviews: (sped up because she was talking through the entire interview on 2x speed) "Wait what, do you want me to say the whole thing again? I thought I was completely clear, are you- Do you want me to go back again? The whole thing? I don't understand... (back to normal speed because she realised she wasn't in the dimension where people talk really fast, I guess?) "...OH, okay. *laughs* I am so sorry, I know what the problem is! I can't *laughs again* I keep on forgetting which dimension that I'm in! Wait, which... Which dimension am I in?"

From Lego Incredibles: "Wait, which dimension is this? Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

That's right, apparently Blazestone has the ability to warp herself to other dimensions. And this isn't an out of the blue thing that probably isn't canon either, Incredibles 2 shows off exactly how that power would function.

(Transcript from Incredibles 2)

Escaping by warping to another dimension is a VEEEERY good method of hiding your own body.

Picture this: Blazestone is contacted by Mirage. She's told a lie about the Omnidroid, it's the government's secret project and how it's went rogue. She gets told they looked for her because she's the only Super who defected from the NSA, they need her specifically. If they approached any other Super they might contact the NSA and expose the secret project. So they need her because she won't tattle. 

Blazestone goes to Nomanisan Island and is told to go to Room A113 to wait for instructions. She gets bored and hates being told what to do so goes to explore. She finds the lava waterfall and flies through, only to find Syndrome on his computer looking over his Operation KRONOS files. She realises that they lured her to die, that she's not the first one they called to destroy the robot, they lied to her and now she's trapped. She goes back to Room A113, and while they're unaware that she found out, she starts asking too many questions. 

The Omnidroid x.V2 is sent after her. She's not fighting to disable it for a sum of money, she's fighting for her life. Blazestone is agile, she flies out of reach of the Omnidroid, and hurls fireballs at it as it has no methods of hitting her back. Until it learns to throw its own projectiles at her. It uproots trees, throws rocks etcetera. It gets an unlucky hit in and knocks her to the ground. Suddenly Blazestone realises that it's getting more accurate, it's predicting where she'll fly next. There's no winning against it. They're near the volcano at this point so Blazestone makes a beeline towards it, if she could just reach the lava.... 

She's inside the lava caves, she flies directly over the lava. She's heat resistant. She baits the Omnidroid into throwing one more boulder and allows herself to get knocked into the lava. She's entirely submerged. Syndrome is watching the fight through hidden cameras, waiting for her to emerge, but she doesn't. Syndrome makes a quip about how the lava must have been too hot for even Blazestone to handle and marks her down as terminated. In reality, Blazestone warped to the other dimension the second she went under, tricking them into thinking her body melted away in the lava. 

As for how Syndrome didn't know about her dimensional warping power, the fact that it's not listed on her National Supers Agency file kinda feels like the NSA didn't believe she had that power. She's a former criminal who probably figured that she she'd defect from being a Superhero at some point. If she ended up in a jail cell, she could teleport out of it. If they knew she could teleport they might have found some way to neutralise that power before sending her to jail. So Blazestone kept it a secret in the even that she'd need to escape from some where. 

So Blazestone lives and freaks out about her near death experience. Except... She draws the wrong conclusion about Syndrome. She doesn't know that the government is actually oblivious to the fact that Syndrome is developing a robot strong enough to fight Mr Incredible using Supers as test subjects. She thinks the government is hunting down Supers and killing them with the Omnidroid. 

She goes cold turkey on crime in case the government finds her again, but after all that, a deep resentment and rage bubbles up inside of her. 

Flashforward to after Incredibles 2, when the Super Ban is lifted and the National Supers Agency is re-established and is recruiting Supers again. The details of Project KRONOS are released to the public. Blazestone's rage boils over. 

She hates that the National Supers Agency is up and running to control Supers again like how they suffocated her with their rules and trapped her in a dysfunctional partnership with Universal Man, she hates that ordinary people tried to wipe out Supers when THEY should be in charge. 

Remember in Incredibles 2 when Evelyn mind controlled Mr Incredible, Elastigirl and Frozone and made them forced them to say something into the camera during the public broadcast before they hijacked the hydrofoil to make them look bad?

Yeah, Blazestone ACTUALLY believes that. 

As far as anyone is aware, Blazestone is dead. She might hide her face to make sure nobody figures out it's her. She could target the DevTech/Wannabe Supers (Voyd, Screech, He-Lectrix, Brick, Krushauer and Reflux) and shake their confidence in the Supers Agency or the public's faith in Supers, after all, the Supers Agency let all the old Supers die, they public turned on you years ago, who's to say they won't turn on you again? Look, there's already politicians who disagree with the Super Ban being lifted and want to put heavy restrictions on Super activity. I think she'd be after Voyd specifically because she's an anxiety ridden easily manipulated mess who is also potentially a threat. After all, Voyd's power is portals, and she can follow Blazestone when she dimensional warps...

She rallies a bunch of other young Supers who felt betrayed by the government banning Supers, perhaps she even manipulates a grieving Plasmabolt who's still mourning her teammates' deaths into acting as a mole in the National Supers Agency. She wants Supers to be on top while all the puny normals get subjugated like they deserve.

Baaasically she becomes Pixar Magneto? ... I'm not 100% certain, I'm not all that familiar with X-Men? I just kinda know who he is from watching one movie years ago. I don't know, I suck at writing allegories, I just have the vague idea in my head and I dunno how to put it to paper properly. If I've said something bad or made a bad comparison, I'm sorry. I'm writing this section at 3am.

3. SHE HAS AN EMOTIONAL CONNECTION TO ONE OF THE MAIN CAST.

If The Incredibles was about Mr Incredible and Incredibles 2 was about Elastigirl, who's the third member of their trio who hasn't got a chance to be a protagonist yet? Let's bring up the profiles again, shall we?

Notice anything?

"ONCE PARTNERS WITH FROZONE. BUT RELATIONSHIP RAN HOT AND COLD."

"FORMER PARTNERS WITH BLAZESTONE (ROMANTICALLY?)"

OH SNAP THAT'S RIGHT, FROZONE AND BLAZESTONE USED TO BE PARTNERS. POSSIBLY ROMANTICALLY.

Blazestone was partnered with Frozone first before the NSA shoved her into the Beta Force with Universal Man. This is purely headcanon, but I like to imagine the Frozone/Blazestone team was known as the Alpha Force because Beta comes after Alpha. The sentence "relationship ran hot and cold" aside from being a bad pun, kinda implies that at some point the fluctuation led to them having a huge falling out and splitting their team apart so the NSA could try again with Universal Man.

I found this on Reddit's Tumblr sub and honestly, my thoughts exactly.

Imagine the DRAMA of Frozone finding out that his former "Enemies to lovers to enemies" partner who tried to drown him on Supers Appreciation Day that one time who he thought was dead is suddenly alive again and is currently leading a gang of Supers to attacking people. There could be a deep dive into what their partnership was like, how he reacted to her fall from grace and all the mixed feelings of seeing her alive again in the present day.

Maybe this could finally be the opportunity to show Honey on screen. I mean, she HAS a design now and an entire deleted scene that they cut out because it caused pacing issues

Imagine Frozone lying battered and bruised on the ground from Blazestone fighting him, and Honey runs to his defence. Blazestone mocks her like "What could you possibly do to me? You're powerless!" and then Honey takes her completely by surprise by pulling out a metal baseball bat or some other mundane household weapon and beats the ever loving shit out of her.

Another idea I had that doesn't really fit into any section is the idea of bringing the Deavor siblings back. Winston and Evelyn having a fractured relationship after the events of Incredibles 2. Winston visiting her in jail trying to understand why she'd risk their father's legacy and endangering DevTech by connecting it with the attempted mass murder with a boat. Evelyn snapping back that he never noticed how she was feeling as they grieved for their parent's deaths because he was too focused on thinking that they died because there was no Supers around anymore to save them.

Blazestone kidnapping both of them and forcing Evelyn, the one who hates Supers with her entire being to remake the Screenslaver technology by threatening to burn Winston to death if she doesnt comply. Why does Blazestone need the hypnosis tech? Because she's aware that some of the Supers she recruited might not be 100% loyal and wants to control their minds to keep them in line if she has to. Because she doesn't care at all about any of the other Supers, she just wants to use them for her own gain so that SHE can control the city. Plasmabolt is definitely going to be the one to betray Blazestone in the end. She realises that Everseer, Macroburst and Psycwave wouldn't have wanted her to harm innocent people to avenge their deaths, so she'd fight alongside The Incredibles family, the Wannabe Supers, and Frozone.

Aaaand that's all I have to say, it somehow took me three hours to move all this text from Google Docs to Tumblr and find accompanying images.

Hope you liked my probably badly written sequel idea

#the incredibles #incredibles 2 #the incredibles blazestone #frozone #mr incredible #elastigirl #wannabe supers #voyd #he-lectrix #incredibles 2 screech #incredibles 2 reflux #krushauer #winston deavor #evelyn deavor #the incredibles apogee #the incredibles downburst #the incredibles dyna guy #the incredibles everseer #the incredibles gamma jack #the incredibles gazerbeam #the incredibles hypershock #the incredibles macroburst #the incredibles meta man #the incredibles phylange #the incredibles plasmabolt #the incredibles psycwave #the incredibles stratogale #the incredibles splashdown #the incredibles stormicide #the incredibles thunderhead

[evilwickedme]

So if Superman is Moses and Captain America is David, do you think that Spider-Man is Job?

He's always miserable, with suffering piled upon suffering and loss piled upon loss. But he always has faith in the goodness of humanity and the righteousness of his duty. He maintains his faith throughout all of his trials, and that's what makes him a hero.

(I was thinking about how Judaism and Xianity see G-d differently, and more specifically how they see faith and obedience to G-d differently. In Judaism faith isn't about obedience, and G-d is often an allegory for the world just as the world is often an allegory for G-d — at least that's how I interpreted the fact that 90% of our prayers are thanking G-d for creating a specific aspect of material reality. So if the story of Job is, from a Jewish perspective, isn't about unwavering obedience to a single entity but instead about having unwavering faith in the goodness of the world, then it fits Peter Parker almost to a T, right?)

Wow ok I am SO pissed off that I wrote the answer to this for a full hour and now it's just fucking gone because Tumblr decided not to publish it when I hit post. What the very fuck. So I'm going to try to shorten what I wrote a little and hopefully it'll still make sense. But this is a great ask, for real.

Anyway. I feel like something that's been lost in my most popular posts is that my central thesis when it comes to the Jewish nature of superheroes is not that there's a 1:1 between every hero and a historical, mythological, or Tanakhi figure. The central thesis is, instead, that the very concept of heroism as presented in comics is tied to the Jews who created the genre; it's just very easy to demonstrate these kinds of concepts with direct allegories that have such clear parallels. I actually have a third secret parallel that'll probably never see the light of day, between Magneto and Aher (and like, does anybody even know who Aher is? he's not exactly a well known figure).

One of the reasons I haven't posted this comparison is that it is largely thematic, and therefore requires considerably more explanation, especially for goyim or those who aren't familiar with Aher's story (אלישע בן אבויה fyi if that means anything to y'all). But that's sort of my point - it's much easier to point that Superman is literally Moses and Cap and David serve very similar purposes as characters than to talk about the fact that superheroism is based in Jewish values and traditions: the very idea that heroes are meant to make the world better through action as opposed to sacrifice, the value assigned to every single life (he who saves one life etc), characters becoming better people over time rather than going through dedicated redemption arcs, etc (I can't remember what I wrote here and it's driving me nuts thank you very much for asking).

I gave a lot of context here to the difference between Golden Age and Silver Age writing here but honestly again that took forever and I don't feel like typing it all up, so I'll just point out the basic facts which are that the people creating the comic book industry in the late 30s and early 40s were desperate Jews trying to save their people across the ocean, and also were only about ten or twenty years removed from having lived in the Old Country themselves. Their life and culture was intensely Jewish, they'd grown up in specific Jewish tales. By the time we get to Spider-Man, the situation is entirely different. It's been 25 years of comics (Superman debuted in '38, Spider-Man in '63), and the Jewish foundations of comic books and heroism are already baked in to the genre. Yes, the industry is still overwhelmingly Jewish, but now the separation from a purely Jewish upbringing and Jewish separatism in the Old Country is forty years old. The attempt now is to specifically make stories that haven't already been told - for Spider-Man, the main concept was that there had never been a teen hero before who stood on his own - one that wasn't part of team like the fantastic four, or, more typically, a sidekick.

All these differences actually mean that the coding of these characters is very different. Superman being Moses was intentional; Cap was created as anti-Nazi propaganda. Spider-Man was and is Jewish because he is such a pure example of what Jewish heroism is. He's flawed, he's angry, but he can't help himself from trying to save... Well, everyone. It is, however, important to note that he debuted a long while before Magneto was confirmed Jewish (I don't actually know if he was the first, bc I'm having trouble finding that kind of info easily on the internet, but he's certainly one of the most notable Marvel Jews ever, and he was confirmed as a Holocaust survivor relatively early); it was a whole before Marvel realized you could make somewhat prominent characters Jewish, let alone heroes, and by then Spider-Man was one of their best selling characters, and they're still afraid to this day to alienate readers by confirming him as such.

But moving onto Job - I think I have a very different read of the Book of Job from you, but that's not surprising to me; the Book of Job is incredibly opaque, and I doubt that any two people will interpret it exactly the same. Also, I was raised Orthodox, and I often have very different perspectives on various Jewish things than the typical American Jew. Here's how I view it, though.

Firstly, Job absolutely does not maintain his faith throughout the entire story. Yes, initially he's presented as the most pure person ever, one who has never even been tempted to do a chet (חטא, closest translation is sin; another word would be aveira, which would best be translated as a transgression). And, indeed, it is not his deeds that lead to him losing everything; it is instead Satan who argues to test his faith by taking everything he holds dear away from his - his money, his cattle, his children, his health, his wife.

It's noteworthy, for any goyiche reader, that Satan in Judaism is not the Christian Devil who rules hell. He's an adversary, for sure, but he's more like an opposing counsel; his role is to argue for every human's guilt, especially when someone has committed a terrible aveirah. Forgive me for saying this, but he's essentially a devil's advocate. He can be viewed as the manifestation of yetzer hara on a wider scale (yetzer hara and yetzer hatov are the two natural impulses we all have in ourselves, the first to be selfish or to commit bad deeds and the other to commit good deeds and help others; this is a neutral fact rather than a condemnation of any person, and also I'm massively oversimplifying things here). Also, he's a tattle-tale.

Anyway, back to Job. Yes, at first he does maintain his faith, through the loss of his property, his children, even his health; his wife, before she dies, begs him to curse God, and yet he doesn't. But when she does die, he spends a chapter lamenting the day he was born, regretting that he wasn't stillborn. At first this doesn't look like a direct accusation at God, but it absolutely is, as God is in charge of life and death, but also evidence by the following:

So Job does lose his faith, because as far as he can tell, he has never done anything wrong in his life ever, and yet he has been cursed to grieve everything he has ever had, and he won't even die.

Most of the book is dedicated to dialogue between himself and three of his friends, who come to the common conclusion that he must have done something wrong to deserve this treatment. But Job remains adamant: I did not deserve this.

The general lesson that many people take from this book is that God works in mysterious ways, blah blah. But like... We know, in fact, exactly why this story happened. We saw it! We saw Satan advocate to try Job! So what's the point of the book?

The point is the Job keeps asking "why". The point is that Job hears that God won't forgive his friends, despite the fact they blame him for his misfortune, and he still chooses to pray for them. The point is that he refuses to take what has happened to him quietly. Not accepting that what happened to him was just, but not accepting others' injustice either.

Ugh. I phrased all of this way better in the first draft. I really truly hate this.

Anyway my point is that Job, despite being far richer than the average Jew by the standards of his time, actually is meant to represent a very common situation: what do you when bad things happen. Do you blame yourself, or do you blame God? Do you let other people beat you when you're down, or do you stand up for yourself?

And the thing is those themes are universal, but they're not really related to Peter Parker in particular. In the shallowest sense, the kind I used to compare Cap and David or Superman and Moses, they do not have similar stories or backgrounds. Job has everything, and he loses it all, and he mourns all of it, including the property and money; Peter Parker is working class, has never had enough money, but we see again and again that he views it as a tool rather than a goal in and of itself. Spider-Man's origin is about learning to battle your yetzer hara, your darkest impulses, and we see Peter again and again trying to do his best even though he's often being pulled by his instincts to use his power for selfish purposes. Job does not ever have to learn any such lesson; he never did anything wrong.

The one thing in common between the two stories is that they both believe that every life has value - well, if Peter is being written by a competent authors at least - with Job praying to save the men who are literally called the "resha'im", the evil ones, and with Peter being the little man's hero. But that can be said about most heroes, especially the notable ones. Hell, there's an entire double page spread dedicated to the concept in Batwoman: Elegy. This is more of another indication of Jewish values making their way into the foundations of superhero comics than it is a similarity between Job and Peter.

Also, I feel like I need to be clear. Our prayers thanking God for creating something? Traditionally are simply thanking God for creating something. I'm not saying you can't interpret it as a metaphor for the world if that's what works for you, if that's how you see God, but God was very literal to most Jews for thousands of years, and I could talk for ages and ages about the schools of thought regarding God and the world and Maimonides and shit.

Speaking of which, we need to discuss the fact that Job is literally just some guy. Like he's not a prophet, he's not a leader or a judge, he's just some rich dude who lost everything, mourned it, and then got it all back. I've talked about this before, but one of the foundational ideas of my thesis is that the similarity between prophets having powers (such as Samson but also really any judge being considered a higher authority despite not even communing directly with God) and superheroes invokes Maimonides' claim that the first degree of prophecy is the need to act for the better good, being unable to ignore the ills of the world and doing your best to fix them - that people who incapable of ignoring that urge (and Peter, despite his occasional selfishness, often prioritizes Spider-Man in his life specifically because of that urge) are possessed by the spirit of God. Literal prophecy, communing with God, cannot exist without this base level. So, in effect, Peter is significantly holier than Job.

Anyway. Again, I've definitely missed some points because of Tumblr's fuck up and I intentionally skipped most of the history lesson that gave a lot of context which I didn't feel like typing up again, but this is most of it. Sorry if this wasn't what you hoped for, but this was a really interesting thing to talk about anyway, and I'm very grateful you gave me the opportunity to think it over.

#spiderman #jew tag #jewish superheroes #jumblr #judaism #marvel comics #marvel #peter parker #gail speaks #ask #anonymous

[winterarmyy]

An important message to all

Please stop and read for a moment.

Dearest readers,

Just a gentle message from me. I got this ask a today and I just want to remind you that if you don't like or agree with what I write, or you don't like me in general, you can block me. If the contents of my work doesn't sit well with your morals or views in any way, you can block me. And as return, if I find you being rude to me, I can block you as well. As I did exactly that to this nony.

At first, when I read the first lines of the ask, I was totally cool about answering it because you know, I am basically a stranger. You don't know about me at all so it's fair for you to ask of my situation. I mean, I can be a ceo of a company and you still wouldn't know.

I was already crafting the answers in my head, until my religion was brought up, until my family was insulted;  And I really don't appreciate that.

Sure, you can insult my writing or me as a human being, regardless of my religion, and I would take it like an adult. But, insulting my faith? My father, my brother, my future husband that I haven't even met yet? That is disrespectful. And I don't need this type of people in my life.

To be clear, I am not autistic nor I am trying to be misogynistic. Which reminds me, why would anyone make that comparison in the first place anyway? I am fanfiction writer. All works are fictional. The characters and the scenarios within the work are fictional. It does not translate or convey any influence relating to my religion or beliefs at all.

My inspirations has always all come from movies, books, songs, arts that I've enjoyed and some might be a bit too twisted for anyone to digest. And there is nothing "cute or sexy" about writing violence in the first place. That scene was meant to be disturbing, to trigger some sort of fear from my readers. Not to make them think "aww yinn is so cute for writing this". No. And I'm sorry if any of you sees it that way. Perhaps, it was my horrible writing skill that have failed you.

When I started writing, I was scared of posting it anywhere until i read some tumblr posts about how I should be proud of my work and that was the reason I start sharing them to this particular community. It was with the hope that they would appreciate it without judging where I came from or what my background looks like. So please, don't disappoint me. Don't make want to quit writing all together; because it would be the lost of joy in my life.

And, I would love to remind all of you to be kind to one another. The difference in the color of a person's skin, their body shape or weight, gender or sexuality, the God that they prayed to, should not be an excuse for you to be unkind. Respect each other. If you can't, then remove yourself from the situation. As simple as that.

With that said, from this moment on, anyone who approach me with any kind of disrespect will be blocked by me immediately. I may be soft most of the time, but I simply do not tolerate this kind of behaviour.

Thank you staying this far.

Until then, stay gold everybody.

Yours, Yinn 🤍

#rude ask #rude asks #yinn replies ✍🏻

[raplinesmoon]

Alone With You In The Aether (KSJ x GN!Reader)

pairing: lunar deity!Seokjin! x reader (no specified pronouns) genre(s): angst… i’m sorry, a tiny glimmer of fluff at the end au(s): some kind of mythology mixed with dystopian mixed with post-apocalyptic au word count: 2.1k warnings: implied character d*aths (non-graphic), mentions of blood, lots of sad thoughts rating: 18+

summary: Seokjin thinks he's hard to remember, but your faith leaves him surprised every time.

a/n: if i had a nickel for everytime I wrote Seokjin in a strange apocalyptic, dystopian au, I'd have two nickels. It's weird that it happened twice. Also why do the most gut-wrenching, angsty ideas come to me for Seokjin (give this man a break)! Consider this my long overdue bday gift for him. This fic draws on this prompt, the song 134340 (of course), the book by Olivie Blake (for the title and angsty vibes) and the films Sunshine (2007) and Snowpiercer (2013). It's wildly experimental and may be slightly bad considering I haven't written for Jin in so long, but I hope you give it a chance <;3

Seokjin was used to the dark. He looked out upon the night sky every night, a vast sea of midnight black as far as the eye could see, lit up by tiny specks of stars and satellites, with him at the center of it, perched on the crescent moon, mesmerized by the world below.

The humans were fascinated by him, and Seokjin by them. Every night, they’d look up at the sky, pointing and exclaiming at the bright white orb that lit everything up. They’d offer their prayers and make their sacrifices – for peace, and prosperity, for good fortune to enter their homes and bless their families. And Seokjin would always deliver – whether it was through abundant crops, or the blessing of another child to the human race.

He was the gentle, all-giving light in their eyes, shielding them from the harshness of their day-to-day lives, ruled by his much more tempestuous counterpart, Hoseok, otherwise known as the sun. 

Until the day everything crumbled into dust.

The gods had never expected Hoseok to lose the battle against the malevolent demon that tormented the world, evil at its very core. Eternity had been promised to them as the Earth’s caretakers, tending to and sowing the seeds for humans to thrive. The devastation was profound at the loss of their beloved companion, none of them able to do anything as they watched the ichor leech out of his being, plunging the world into an eternal winter.

Paralyzed by shock and grief, they’d called a tribunal, lost on how to move forward without their beloved sun. Seokjin offered up his palace in the heavens, the deafening silence at his marble table proof that none of them had been expecting any of this to come to fruition.

Yoongi, the keeper of time, was the first to speak up. 

“It’ll happen to all of us,” his voice is gruff, leading to wide-eyed stares and gasps of shock and confusion around the table. “The humans grew weary of Hoseok, and the light that he provided. They destroyed the earth that he sowed, built buildings tall enough to block out his light, and retreated deeper and deeper into the underground and the shadows. They stopped believing.”

Seokjin ponders over Yoongi’s words, a pit growing in his stomach when he realized Yoongi was right. In the eons that he’d been tasked with being the caretaker of the moon, humans had always sought to conquer the land they’d been bestowed. He welcomed them when they tried to explore his dominion up above, lips twisting in amusement at their curiosity. But as he watched them grow more and more intelligent, fueled by Namjoon’s gifts as the god of knowledge, with that intelligence came greed, and its horrifying consequences. 

“They’ll lose faith in all of us, one by one. As the earth begins to crumble without its sun, their faith too, will weaken. And when the last person stops believing, we too will vanish alongside them.”

And Seokjin, who’d always been docile and kind to the humans, realized that with the advent of this new chapter in the universe, that he’d likely be the first to die, the humans’ faith in him as temperamental as the waxing and waning of the moon they searched for in the sky every night. A moon they could no longer see. 

If Seokjin had lungs, the dust would cling to them, burning up his insides, stealing the very breath from him. He couldn’t remember how long it’d been since the death of the sun, whether it was decades, centuries, or even millennia. The dust clouded everything, rising up into the atmosphere, washing away the oceans, and Jungkook, the sea god, along with it.

One by one, the gods fell out of favour, helpless against the hopelessness which had begun to thrive amongst the humans. Seokjin wondered how any of them were alive at all, continuing to cling onto the fragile threads of life when everything that sustained it disappeared around them.

Most of all, he wondered how he’d managed to make it so long, his faint light present despite the cloud of dust. How people believed in a moon they could no longer see, one that could no longer promise hope of fertility in a barren land, where people picked at the dirt for food, where children stopped being a blessing and turned into a distant hope that evolved into a curse.

Who was left to believe in him, the weakest of all deities, powerless without the help of others?

And yet, Seokjin persisted. He watched the Earth freeze over, and what was left of the remaining humans crowd onto an old locomotive that traveled alongside whatever light remained of the fallen sun.

There were no more prayers for peace, for serenity. The prayers turned vengeful, resentful, all the gods left cowering in fear at how the tables had turned.

Seokjin stayed away from it all. He became listless, numb inside, just waiting for the day that he too, would vanish.

But that day never came. 

Dust. Dust as far as the eye could see. It was all that you could make out in the cloudy sky as you gazed out of the train, clinging to rocks, to the snow and ice that surrounded you.

You remembered the day the sun died. It’d been like any other day. Except you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Restless on the scratchy sheets of your bed, you’d wrapped your blanket around you, staring out the window at the calming light of the moon. For as long as you remembered, you’d been obsessed with the gentle object in the sky, in awe of the radiant yet serene light it brought to the world, how it changed in relation to the passage of time. It was silly, but you’d always imagined there was someone up there taking care of the moon in the sky, fueled by stories your mother would tell you as a child.

Lulled to bed by it, you awoke to start your day as normal, remembering to give your mother a goodbye kiss before work. Nearly five hours later, while you were staring at your computer screen, the whole world exploded into darkness.

All you could hear were the screams of panic, objects clattering to the floor as people scrambled to rush outside, only to find that the darkness was everywhere, the once bright sun now a dull but sinister shade of crimson. Like the colour of blood. 

Your first instinct was to rush home, to check on your parents. Pulling up the light of your phone, you prayed the little battery you had left would be enough to sustain you. Instead, you came upon an empty building, shattered objects strewn about, and no sign of your parents anywhere.

It took nearly a week to learn of how many humans had actually perished in the panic surrounding the sun’s death, and even longer to come to terms with the fact that you’d never be able to navigate the darkness to come by.

You looked up at the smoke rising through the sky, creating the beginnings of the fine cloud of dust that would come to dominate the atmosphere, and saw it.

The faint glow of the moon, still there, still persisting. And so would you. 

From that day, the moon became your comfort, your protector. Even as the sky became more hazy, its presence in the night sky always kept you at ease.

Even when you boarded the train, knowing it was your only hope for survival in the increasingly harsh and hostile world, you never stopped looking out the window every night, imagining its soft light behind your eyes. 

“I know you’re there,” you whispered into the darkness. “It’s crazy, but even though I can’t see you, Moon, just imagining you still up there, in the sky like always, makes everything seem okay. It reminds me of why I treasure this world, why I want to keep holding on.”

. . .

Seokjin is jolted out of his haze by the words — he hadn’t heard anyone speak to him in so long. He knew by the fact that he was still around meant that there was someone who still believed, but their faith had always been silent. Until today. 

Seokjin feels warmth wash over him, warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

And so, into the aether, he talks back, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“I’ll always be here.”

Yoongi was the only one nowadays who wasted his time visiting Seokjin’s domain. The once lavish palace, with its halls of marble as bright as the moon itself, filled with jewels that sparkled like stars, now became decrepit, a mirror of Seokjin’s own hollowness.

Seokjin envied Yoongi, his immortal status nearly untouchable. Because while time became harder to track for the humans on the locomotive, none of them could deny its existence. None of them could stop the passage of time. There would always be people who believed in Yoongi.

“I never realized how lonely our existence was until we lost Hoseok,” Yoongi sits next to him on the staircase. “How foolish we were to think that we held power over the humans, when really, their faith was all that held together our fragile state of being.”

“I know you’re lonely, hyung,” the name surprises Seokjin. Yoongi hadn’t called him that in such a long time. “But haven’t you always been that way, even before we lost Hoseok?”

Seokjin ponders on Yoongi’s words, thinking back to the eternity he’d spent as caretaker of the night sky, watching humans sleep under his care. He’d yearned for a long time to connect with them, to spend time with them like the other gods did with their subjects, but they’d always forget about him come the dawn, the day and its promises far more alluring in their eyes.

“Who could be foolish enough to still believe in someone, something they can’t see?” Seokjin spits out. “I can offer no warmth or protection to the world. Some times I think it would be better for them to just let go, whoever it is. So we could both move on.”

 Yoongi pauses for a moment, taking in the distressed look on Seokjin’s face.

“I’ve seen them, you know,” Seokjin blinks at Yoongi, a smirk twisting on his brother’s lips. “They’re very beautiful.”

Yoongi puts a hand on his shoulder, his all-knowing eyes twinkling with something magical.

“Don’t let go just yet.”

“You’re all I have,” you whisper into your pillow, eyes heavy with sleep, but also with the weight of continuing to live this half-life. “I feel your absence everywhere.”

Seokjin wishes he could comb through the aether, resist the dust and smoke, weather the frigid ice, lay a hand on his shoulder to tell you he’s here. He’s here because of you, because while you believe you’re nothing, you’re everything. You’re the only thing he has left too.

He wonders how different it would have been if he’d met you in a past life, one where the tether between you two wasn’t something that could snap at any moment. Where the red string wasn’t frayed and splitting into pieces. Maybe you would have been a daring explorer, or a regal ruler. Maybe you would have been able to see Seokjin properly, to touch him, press your lips to his.

But maybe you were always destined to fall in love in this cruel, lonely way.

Seokjin doesn’t even notice the aether vanishing around him one day, until the moon, once his noble perch, gives out from underneath him, and he’s falling, tumbling through the endless vortex that is the universe. 

That’s how he knows there’s no one left to believe anymore. That you’re gone.

His heart races, and he calls out for Yoongi, for someone, anyone to stop the madness, closing his eyes.

All of a sudden, he halts, a gentle hand reaching out to clasp his own. Seokjin blinks open his eyes, and he sees you.

But you’re not you. Not as he’d known you. You’re glowing, a soft aura to match his own, a faint smile on your face.

“I never stopped believing.”

The void shifts around the two of you, spinning until Seokjin recognizes the heavens, the bright twinkling of stars in the sky. The two of you are in his palace.

Seokjin understands the moment he looks out onto the horizon, seeing the green of forests and the blue of oceans, the earth healing before him.

It’s you. A new star born from a dying one. A new dawn, one neither of you has to face alone.

a/n pt. 2: The lore for this honestly goes crazyyy, I could have taken it in so many different directions. But in case you're confused, OC is reborn as the new sun (rip Hoseok, gone but never forgotten), and also Seokjin's consort so they will live happily ever after for eternity. And those pesky humans get a second chance too! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#bts #kvanity #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts imagine #bts fic #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #jin x reader #jin x you #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #seokjin angst #seokjin imagine #seokjin fic #jin angst #jin imagine #jin fic #bts imagines #bts fics

[singstaircase]

Those that go knocking on forbidden doors often find the one who guards it – Dominik Szoboszlai

Summary: Dominik suffers the consequences for killing the one he should not have hurt. But maybe there's still hope left for him

Warning: Blood, violence, nightmare, death, disturbing imagery and description, implied mentions of religious elements and of course angst

Well this took a turn I did not expect. Now there's a cult, decades long conspiracy, a century old man and the devil possibly involved

Can be read said a part 2 of If there is something after hell.

Major spolier alert for the game "Faith: the unholy trinity"* If you haven't played the game, I highly recommend playing it.

(Name) smiles at him, so loving that for a moment the pain subsides. For a moment, Dominik forgets she is plunging the knife deeper into his heart. 

Dominik turns and is faced with a distorted version of (Name). It has a gaping bloody hole where the face should be. It can't be her. Suddenly, a hand reaches out from it and pulls him inside.

Dominik turns around and is met with his reflection in the mirror. He's holding onto a key that he can't remember. The reflection has an eerie smile as it brings the key closer to its face.

Without a thought, Dominik jams the key into his eye. Blood starts to pour out and turn the floor black. As he stumbles back, the room suddenly turns dark. 

“Priest…” someone whispers into his ears. The voice sounds familiar, the voice sounds like Ga–

Before Dominik can grasp the thought, the air around him thickens with an ominous presence. A figure materializes in the darkness, draped in crimson robe. Just as the figure is about to make contact with him,

Dominik returns to reality with a gasp. Beads of sweat cover his forehead as he frantically scans the familiar surroundings. The clock's hand is ticking away at 8 in the morning, meaning he'd have to spend another day with only four hours of sleep.

Another nightmare, he sighs to himself. Frustration hangs heavy in the air as Dominik buries his face in his hands. Why is this happening to him? This is the…he has honestly lost count on how many times she keeps haunting him. He's lost count of the sleepless nights at this point.

Nothing seems to work; instead, the nightmares persist and evolve. Everything feels like a nightmare now, sometimes he isn't even sure if what he sees is in reality.

He still sees her in the house, just standing in the corner and watching him. He can't tell anymore what's real or not. It's like someone is trying to show him something. Like she's still out there somewhere, trying to communicate with him.

With a sigh, Dominik reaches towards his bedside desk and pulls out a journal. He's been trying to write whatever he can recall from his nightmares. Seemingly trying to make sense of this nothingness. 

Day-???

I think I am going crazy. I still see her and it doesn't feel like a dream anymore. In my ‘dream’, she told me not to be afraid. In my ‘dream’, she hugged me. When I woke up, it felt real. Too real.

Day-???

I was in the bathroom when I looked up at the mirror. I didn't see my own reflection but (Name). She was looking at me with something I can't quite decipher. It wasn't sadness or anger. But it wasn't a look a human gives you either.I woke up after that.

Day-???

I think I shook hands with the devil. He looked like a long lost friend. 

Day-???

She smiled at me today and I smiled back.

I didn't wake up after that.

September 21

There were new kids at the training today– Conor Bradley and Bobby Clark. Boss seems to like them. Everyone says this is the first time they've been here but I swear. I swear I have seen them before.

In my house.

September 22

I didn't have any nightmares today.

Day-???

Bradley and Clark are weird. Whenever I look at them, I see (Name) nearby. Before I only used to see her in my home. But ever since these kids have come here, I keep seeing her here too.

I don't think these are my nightmares anymore.

Day-???

Isn't it weird now I am having nightmares about something that never happened?

I was in this old house in the middle of nowhere and so was (Name). Of course she was there. But she didn't look like her, it was almost like something was ___ her.

Right in front of my eyes, she ___ someone with their own ___. I have never felt more scared than that moment. I ran to the basement and she chased after me. I called God, anyone, anything to get me out of here.

Then out of nowhere, a figure in white appeared. I begged the figure to let me leave alive. It gave me a choice.

Stay here and try to save (Name) or leave but that would mean ___ (Name)’s soul forever. I was so scared, I just wanted to get out of that place. So, I __. I agreed to ___ (Name)’s soul.

I got out alive. I woke up in the hospital.

Two days later, the police said they found a body that matches (Name)’s description. 

Why did that feel so real?

Dominik's sigh lingers in the quiet aftermath of his journaling session. His eyes remain closed momentarily, when the familiar chime of the doorbell cuts through the silence. 

A brief pause envelopes the room as Dominik hesitates getting up. The doorbell echoes again, demanding a response. Another sigh escapes him as he rises from his place.

His house is quiet now and Dominik hates it. He hates the silence, it feels as if the silence itself is always mocking him. 

Upon opening the door, he finds no one. Just as Dominik's about to close the door,a subtle touch at his feet halts him. He glances downwards to discover a newspaper lying at his doorstep.

In any other circumstance, he would've ignored it but the headline captures his attention with a grip that refuses to release him. The words on the front page bring back a painful truth, a stark reminder of the past he desperately wants to bury.

He should go back but an unseen force seems to guide his movements. Something, inexplicable and compelling, makes Dominik pick up the newspaper. He feels compelled to read on, as if an unseen hand is guiding his eyes across the paper. 

Liverpool mourns the death of (Name) Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai 

West Derby, Liverpool

S̵̨̗͇̰̭̻̟̣͖̣̟̻̱̻̬̟̘̦̹͇͛ͦͩͫ̿͑͑̇͛ͥ̀H̶̴̡̹͔̘̠̦̆̒̄̄͒͆́̄ͭ̚̕E̷̸͒̿̃̓ͣ̐͌̏̍̾̄̆҉̜̰͖͇̜̘ͅ ̨̬͔̺͍̹̤͉̰̫̝̺͇̭̙̩̻̆ͭ̑̽͒̽ͯ̏̌ͬͫ̀̀Ȉ̶̸̻̱̼̝͆͒̎ͯ͛͆̾̈́̔̓̽͆͜͞S̷̴̯͕̞͈̥̝̥̝̙̩̠̳̍̀͆͋̅ͨͦ͐ͨ͑͛̎̐̿͘͞ͅ ̖͖͈͔̳̬̭̰̰͓̘̤͕̘̽ͦ̆̃̂̃̑́̔̂͟H̸̛̏̓̂̋̓̉ͤ̃̑̍̓̿ͫ̋́ͮ̃͡҉̦̤̘͉̣̥̳̟̠̘̼͈͖̝̳̠E̛̝̱̞̝̻̻̓̒̍̏̒͊͑ͬͮ͗̃̌ͭ́̄̈́͒̇̀R̸̵̿ͭ̋̓̐͘͟҉̗͎̦E̵̲̥̩̭̜͚͇̱̻̙̱͈̟̫̳̬͗̐̂ͭͥͮ͜͞͝ ̰̰̝̟̲̤̲̗̬͙̼͙̤͓͌̈́ͨ̀ͪ̓̿̈́̀̈́ͩ͋̌͛͒̆̐̕͠ͅD̸̵̛̞̥̹̮̲͇̝͉͚̫̙̲̠͙͎̱̄̂ͫ͐̀͡O̢͍̠̖̣̖̗͕͓̳͓̜̱͙̹̽̍̋͂͆͂ͭ̈ͦ͘͢ͅM̧̙̬͚̱͓͑̇̈́̑ͪ̀ͬ̎͐͒ͬ̄͑̐̉̚͘͞I̢̢̮͕̘̱̹͇̔̒͐ͧ͑́͟͠Ń̐̅̿ͤͮ̚͏̷̦̩̼̺̥͈͞͡I̴̵̵̴̺̜̠̼̺̱͖̱͓̻͇͔͖͙̮͈͑̔͑̀̌ͤͪ̋͑̿̾ͨ͠Kͦ̇̿̈͌͑̐̂̔ͮͭ̊̉̚̚҉͍̤̞̖̜̟̟̤̦̰͕͚͇̖̥͚̀͘͝ͅͅ ͦ͗ͯ͆̒ͫ͑̑̂͊̑̚͏̨̝̱̮̩͇͓͙̭͕̭̖̝̼̩̤

West Derby observed their three day long community wide mourning for the slain ____.

The body of (Name) Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai was discovered in the woods outside of West Derby last week, in what authorities are calling a ritualistic murder. 

Police report that she was apparently stabbed multiple times in the throat and beheaded before being killed in a paganistic ritual. Pandemonium regnat. Her body was partially burned as well. A body part is said to be missing, although authorities would not specify which one.

An investigation is ongoing into the mysterious disappearance and subsequent death of (Name) Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai. A month into the probe, any official comments on the case have been declined. Trent Alexander-Arnold, the English and Liverpool right-back and brother of the deceased, has publicly pointed fingers at Dominik Szoboszlai, his clubmate and husband of (Name), accusing him of murder. 

Dominik Szoboszlai's team has swiftly rejected these serious allegations. Despite the team's unequivocal denial, the Hungarian footballer himself has yet to make any public comments on the accusations. 

Authorities are urging people of West Derby not to mourn the death of Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai because, after all, she was a degenerated devil-worshiping thug who was hooked on crack cocaine and hated her parents.

Why even conduct an investigation at all? That's what you would like them to think, wouldn't you Dominik? You actually did the community a favour when you found her in that house. You stalked her through the forest and dragged her into the house. You ignored her cries for help, her pleas for mercy. You put holes in her ruined drug addict body and then you chopped off her heads because everybody knows that removing the head is the only way to kill a snake. Well guess what? YOU DIDN'T KILL THE SNAKE, DOMINIK. YOU CANNOT KILL WHAT CANNOT BE KILLED. THOU SHALT NOT RAISE UP WHAT THOU CANST NOT PUT DOWN AGAIN. THOU COULDST NOT KILL (NAME); THOU SHALT NOT DESTROY MY WORKS FOR THEY ARE THE WORKS OF THE ETERNAL DRAGON. EVEN NOW SHE IS AT THY DOOR. HER HAND IS AT THY THROAT, YET YOU SEE HER NOT. I WILL HAVE THY SOUL FOR I AM THE G O D O F T H I S W O R L D

I AM HERE,  DOMINIK. 

His hands, already shaky, grasp the newspaper with a desperate urgency. As Dominik reaches the final lines of the article, a cold shiver courses down his spine.

Suddenly, the newspaper dissolves into a pool of blood. As Dominik recoils with a scream, his frantic attempts to distance himself makes him stumble in every step.

A red creature starts to emerge from the bloodstained remnants of the article. Dominik's heart pounds in his chest as he retreats, his eyes locked in a terrified gaze on the creature before him.

As the creature lets out a scream, his terror reaches its peak. With a sense of impending doom, Dominik braces himself for the worst. But as soon as it appeared, the creature vanishes into nothingness.

Blinking in disbelief, he finds himself face to face with Conor and Bobby. The sight of the boys covered in blood and ethereal light sends a jolt of confusion through him.

“What a–”

The sentence dies on Dominik's lips as an unseen force starts to drag him backwards. Panic surges through him and his efforts to break free goes nowhere. The touch is surprisingly gentle yet he can't bring himself to remove it. It feels familiar.

Soon, he's thrust into a room and the door slams shut. As the figure turns, Dominik's breath catches in his throat. His eyes widen in disbelief as he stares into the face of (Name).

Nightmarish sounds begin to seep through the door as (Name) draws closer to him. As she sits before him, Dominik finds himself unable to look away. Her touch, light and gentle, sends a shiver down his spine. And he can't help leaning into her touch. 

“(Name),” he says tenderly, intertwining their hands. Her sad smile tugs at his heartstrings. With a gentle touch, Dominik tries to reassure (Name) but her gaze remains fixed on the door.

“There isn't much time,” (Name) murmurs. With a swift motion, she retrieves a necklace. She places it close to her heart, muttering some sort of silent prayer. 

As she places the necklace into Dominik's trembling hand, a wave of inexplicable calm washes over him. (Name) draws Dominik's face closer and her lips press gently against his forehead in a tender kiss.

“Do the right thing, Dominik,” she whispers like a last goodbye. But before he can ask what she means–

Dominik wakes up and he has never felt more exhausted. With a resigned sigh, he reaches for his phone. Alexis has been pestering him for months now to talk to Dr. Martin and today, he finally caves in and gives him a call.

Dominik's the last one to arrive at the training and he's just glad Jurgen isn't angry at him for that. He supposes the bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway of the nightmares. 

For some reason, Conor and Bobby look different to him. The usually hyper boys, are now looking at with a mixture of pity and concern. He can't shake the feeling that they know something he doesn't. 

The big red marks on both Conor and Bobby's arms, same as his, doesn't escape Dominik's eye.

As the training wraps up, the sun begins to descend. The sight that greets Dominik when enters the dining room is the last straw. The once familiar room is now a scene of chaos and destruction, with shattered glass littering the floor and torn curtains hanging in tatters.

Shock overwhelms Dominik as he staggers backwards. He's caught by Conor and Bobby's arms in time. The status of the wall is what terrifies him the most. It wasn't a dream, it was real. All of it.

In what seems like red paint, it says,

“THOU COULDST NOT SAVE (NAME), THOU CANST NOT DO THE RIGHT THING, DOMINIK”

“We had a deal, Mr. Szoboszlai.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Miller.”

“I promised you that I'll help you gain whatever achievement you desire and in turn, you will help me by providing ‘donations’ for my clinic and apartment complex.”

Dominik wants to laugh. “You think you were the reason I won everything?”

Gary's smirk flutters Dominik's amusement. “You think your broken leg was repaired overnight without the assistance of an unworldly being?”

“I suggest you leave now with dignity, Mr. Miller. Before I call the security.”

“You are going to regret this Dominik Szoboszlai.” 

#dominik szoboszlai fic #dominik szoboszlai x you #dominik szoboszlai fanfiction #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai imagine #football imagine #football fanfic #football fic #footballer imagine #football x reader #footballer x reader #football x y/n

[kicksnscribs]

"Ah, you want me to talk about the Twins huh?"

"Not much to say about em, really. Used to run the subway system in Iacon way back before all the slag hit the fan. Damn good at it too.

Nicest lads you'd ever met and practically inseparable! Where one went the other was close by, almost as if they were joined at the hip. Rough upbringin's will do that to ya or so I've heard

Couldn't believe it when i saw the white one on the side of the 'Cons, even less so when i realized he was by himself. We captured him one day as a POW one time. Took a lot of us to pull it off but we managed eventually. That's when I heard the story of what happened to his...I guess brother is what you humans would call them if you absolutely needed a word to describe him. Figured the 'Cons promised him a way to get him back somehow if he joined up with them and he took the offer in a desperate attempt to find him.

Though I doubt they ever did give him anything to really go by. Recruiters will say just about anything in order to get bots to join their cause. Especially when it comes to getting their servos on big, strong fellas like the Twins.

He eventually escaped us somehow; found a way to cut through his bonds and was lost to the night before any of us could even blink. Heh, and I thought his brother was the more crafty of the two.

What d'ya mean 'creepy' smile? Rude lil' thing aren't ya?

He's always been smiling like that. Well...not exactly like that but... you know that mech never had a frown on his face that I'd ever seen. Though I will admit there's something...different about that smile now. Not at all like what I seen back in Iacon. Something sinister...

Not the only one to notice it either. Ol' Rung reckons that being separated from his brother for so long did things to him. Spark twins can't be without one another for very long without it messing with their coding n whatnot, you know?

Though, Ratch knows more about the kid's situation than anybody here on this ship. Says that he apparently had done some things in order to get his brother back. Supernatural things. Things smart mechs should know to leave well enough alone.

Wherever that mech went to get his brother, he didn't come back alone....

Such a shame, he was always a sweet kid. Had a bit of a mobility issue but only when he was excited about something I think? Which was a good thing for all I care. You need to have joy in the things you love 'n he had that in spades.

Did not really understand the concept of personal space though 'n it sometimes got 'im in loads of trouble *laughs*

The black one? Whats there to say about 'im, honestly?

Incredibly polite mech, always there to lend a helping servo or two when needed, a little older than his brother i think? He would always mess with him about that little fact.

Very gentle in situations where his brother would be very harsh, but not like in a mean spirited way, more like an excitable way if that makes any sense? You would never think that what with the constant sour look etched on his face at all times *laughs*

Never liked to talk much. Though not for a lack of ability but more of a 'can't control his volume' situation. He can hit Siren levels of loud when excited enough about something or other and feels bad about it when he does. I don't mind it though, means he's found something to be happy about and that's a good thing in my book if that's worth anything.

Really hurt to hear that he went missing millennia ago. His brother looked absolutely destroyed when I saw him in that camp. I'm glad to see he made it back.

Primus the years haven't been good to him, though. Wherever he went it did numbers on his frame.

He creaks when he walks now, and his gaze has that look of a mech who has seen far more than he should have. He still has that gentle nature about him, though. Which is good, because I think he is going to need it if he ever hopes to succeed at getting those demons running through his brothers brain module out.

I got faith in them though, they're as strong as they are inseparable. They'll get through this like they did every other thing they faced,

together.

[Pulled from the personal Datatracks of Ironhide, Chief of Autobot Security]

#hey ho i got bored again and came up with this while drawing lol #i am not a writer but that will not stop me from writing about my blorbos dammit! #long read #readmore #maccadams #submas #submas angst #i guess it can be called that? #i will draw something better for this but i had to get it out before my brain hated it #also i fucking love ironhide and for some odd reason when i was drawing all i could think about was him talking about the Twins #to some random curious human who suddenly saw two 35 foot train mechs appear on the base #i may do more with this idk #kicks' scribblings

[theprophetizaiah]

Achilles Come Down | Chapter 1: Pain As a Motive

Summary: Crowley believes Aziraphale died in the bookshop fire. Now, he's sending the armies of hell to avenge him. Based loosely on the story of Achilles and Patroclus.

Warning: None for this chapter! (Aside from some foul language)

Word count: 1.5k (this chapter)

All chapters should be available here! (I haven't written on Tumblr in many moons please forgive me)

To read on AO3, check out my work here!

Crowley burned in the hell he imagined he’d always belonged in. Ashes rained from the heavens. Burning paper engulfed his senses. Black smoke burned in his eyes. He breathed in his dead lover. Misery. Misery for the rest of eternity.

“Somebody killed my best friend!” he was somewhere between a yell and a sob. “Bastards!” Between fury and agony.

They spent the last 6,000 years toeing the line between best friends and lovers. Dining at the Ritz, feeding ducks, saving each other from mortal peril, you know, as friends do. Crowley would know him in any lifetime. From the weight of his step, the smell of his hair, the sound of his breath (it would skip and stutter when he had thought of something clever). The air around Aziraphale was always heavy, but not in the manner of suffocation. Rather, his aura was a heavy wool blanket. Warm, grounded, homey. The closest thing Crowley ever really had to a home.

Before the apocalypse, Crowley recalled their drunken ramblings. Amidst the whiffs of red wine, he remembered how he smelled. Like earl grey, oak, and bourbon: something his barber suggested. He also always smelled a bit like paper. It made the burning around Crowley all the more unbearable. Anthony J. Crowley, fallen angel and Duke of Hell, reeling over the doing of a foreigner’s god. Certainly not the one he knew, or maybe exactly the one he knew.

He laid in the flames, thinking through his new reality. This was a rare moment of clarity for the distraught demon. Who killed him: heaven or hell? Either reality had some sense to it. Heaven could, and would, excommunicate him for working with a demon. Permanent discorporation, or banishment to hell. Hell would kill him just for the sake of it. Just to say they did. Racking his brain, he realized Hell was unfortunately, his best chance of finding Aziraphale, or at least what became of him. Crowley slowly creeped up from the ashen ground. He was unsure how much time had passed, but it seemed that the flames had slowed. In mere moments, he stared between the two escalators. He chose downward. As the escalator carried him into the dank, dark corridors, his anguish gnawed at him, clawing its war from the inside out. He allows a single tear, and immediately wipes it away. Only the damned cry in hell.

Crowley had stopped fighting for hell decades ago. In the presence of his angel, he saw no reason for it. He saw no reason to fill the world with more violence. The humans were better at that anyway. After his bout in Edinborough, he was promptly tortured for the next several decades. Crowley never saw the face of Satan, but he would give it an ethereal, firm uppercut the second he had the chance. He lost faith in his leadership, in the art of mass scale temptation. He preferred the gentle temptation of his beloved. Of asking him out to breakfast, bringing him wine, planting seeds of heavenly doubt in his mind. He thought often about the Greek myth of the origin of love. They were alone together at the edge of the universe, a body of eight limbs, four eyes, and a flutter of feathers. Whoever Crowley was, it was a product of the angel. Whoever Aziraphale was, it was Crowley’s collateral. And beautifully so, their symbiosis carried on through the centuries. The demon had the fight pulled out of him the way the angel unshelved his books. Carefully and with gentle hands. 

But now that he was gone, this was war. If he had nothing, he would still have Aziraphale, but if he didn’t have his angel, he had nothing. His fury craved battle, to make them hurt the same way he did. His wrath could summon the very same fire that had surrounded him in the hours prior. If his beloved really was gone, then he would destroy the heaven that took him.

Crowley barely managed his way through the crowds of demons slowly but surely trudging their way through the crowded corridors of hell. After passing the rest of the high offices he comes to the door of the one and only Beelzebub. For a moment, he questions if he should even knock, let alone open the door. He wonders if any of this is worth it in the first place. What if his Angel didn't care whatsoever about him? What if he didn’t need saving, or worse, he was already long gone? But in reality, he knew that wasn't the case. He’d be damned, more than he is already, if he let Aziraphale die knowing that he could have prevented it. Crowley gulps and burst open the door of Beelzebub's office. Demons were typically not known for their politeness. Inside, he sees Beelzebub sitting upon their throne, legs crossed fancifully, almost as if they were expecting him. Crowley's stomach turns at this realization. 

“How's it going up there?” Beelzebub asks. Crowley puts on his best front and looks Beelzebub dead in the eyes and lies:

 “Fantastic,” he says. “The Antichrist is mere moments from inciting the Apocalypse.” 

Beelzebub smirks. “Wonderful. Great job.” 

Crowley shudders ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for him to feel a profound discomfort. He again looks to Beelzebub, “did you capture the angel? Is he here?”

Beelzebub looks confused. “What do you mean capture the angel?”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley starts. “The other angel that has worked in my same jurisdiction for six thousand years. Did you capture him?”

Beelzebub purses their lips, seemingly scanning their memory. Alas, still confused. “No… Why would you assume that? Why would we let him in here?” They began to look vaguely suspicious of their colleague.

 Crowley pulled something out of his ass. “I saw that the Bookshop was on fire,” he blurted out. “I could have only imagined that it was demonic intervention.” Beelzebub chuckled. 

“It's not always hellfire,” Crowley stifles a laugh, just enough for Beelzebub to think it's genuine. Beelzebub speaks up once more. “Yeah, I don't know about the angel. We don't have ‘im here.” Crowley takes a moment and a step back. He decides to tell the best lie that he's ever told, aside from the fact that he was not madly, disgustingly in love with a forbidden fruit. 

“I want that slimy bastard gone forever,” Crowley spits. “I want that fussy dumbarse to not be anywhere near God's green Earth.”

“Well, I know that much… What are you suggesting?” 

Crowley laughs disingenuously, but trying desperately to seem genuine. “I think we need to raid heaven.”

Beelzebub looks puzzled. “But why do we need to raid the heavens if we have already conquered the Earth, Crowley?” they said. “Why would we postpone destroying Earth to fight this war first?”

“That’s exactly it… they’ll never see it coming,” Crowley says. “We can start with the archangels: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel… There will be no one left to lead their army in such short order. Then we let the Earth burn, and winning their holy war will be easier than dropping the antichrist at the convent.”

His voice grows raspy. Crowley takes a deep breath. “It'll let them know once and for all that their God means nothing.” Crowley sits down in front of Beelzebub. They seem a bit more intrigued. Crowley describes a plot more ambitious than any of his plans to date: to invade the heavens. To crusade his lover’s workplace by summoning a demonic army, comprised of hundreds of damned souls. He plans to force them through the Gates of Heaven to slaughter any angels in their sight. Beelzebub loved this concept, and was almost surprised Crowley came up with it. But, he did dream up the Spanish Inquisition, after all (or so they thought).

“Honestly, why not?” Beelzebub smirks. “If we're all going to be separated for the rest of time anyway, this would be a fun way to go out. If they want us to fight this war, we ought to do it our way. Hell fights dirty.” As the flies buzzed among their crown, they grinned the way a child would when they had come up with the perfect prank. Except this wasn’t a prank. It was the end of the world. Of Crowley’s, at least.

Beelzebub grimaced. Crowley laughed. “Well, I'll go talk about it with head office, and we'll get it sorted. I want it done by the end of the day today. That sound alright?” Beelzebub nodded in excitement. Crowley seems giddy with anticipation but not in the way that you would imagine. The anxiety pulsed through his veins. He was setting into motion the divine war days earlier than was planned, all for a fussy angel he drank wine with one too many times. But at the same time, he knew this was his reality. Crowley couldn’t pretend he didn’t love him anymore. Not when he could be dead. If heaven wanted a war, they were going to get it, god dammit.

#Achilles Come Down #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable dumbasses #bookshop fire #good omens #good omens fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #angst #whump #crowley angst #crowley whump #good omens beelzebub #beelzebub #protective crowley #achilles #patroclus #the iliad #achilles/patroclus #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #archive of our own #ao3 stuff #gomens #anthony j crowley #somewhat canon compliant

[finalmemes]

UNDERWORLD roleplay sentence starters of the 2003 film. feel free to edit according to scenario / pronouns. tw: violence, guns, death, murder, language.

victory, it seemed, was in our grasp.

the moon no longer held her sway.

this signaled the end of an era.

you're gonna be okay.

you're acting like a pack of rabid dogs!

put some clothes on, will you?

we have a serious problem.

i'm betting it's military.

they opened fire on us in full view of the public.

you said you didn't see anything.

i know what i heard, and i know what my gut tells me.

we've hunted them to the brink of extinction.

i'd rather you prove me wrong by checking it out.

have your men tighten things up.

i'd never treat you like that.

it's a waste of time, you know.

i'll never understand why [ name ] left him in charge.

you should definitely wear this one.

he's attractive ... for a human.

if you ask me, you take this warrior business far too seriously.

you can't undo the past, no matter how many you kill.

what's the point in being immortal if you deny yourself life's simple pleasures?

put on something elegant and be quick about it.

any progress?

you heading home?

we were ambushed.

look at this mess.

regeneration's impossible at this point.

you don't think, or you don't know?

must i do everything myself?

he comes in, he does his job and then he goes home.

we don't have much of a life.

he's not in some kind of trouble, is he?

what the fuck is going on?

stop the car!

you've lost a lot of blood.

if you don't stop the car, you'll get us both killed.

relax, old friend.

i've tasted his flesh.

just two days till full moon.

it's a shame we don't have more.

lay still. your skull's taken a good knock.

do you have any idea why those men were after you?

this is completely unacceptable!

would you just hear me out?

it's beyond me why you're so obsessed over this ridiculous theory.

you're infatuated with him, aren't you?

i sure hope you never get pissed off with me.

do you believe [ name ] died the way they say?

it's nothing but an ancient story.

where you going with this anyway?

you were told to set up shop and lay low!

the human doesn't concern you.

don't force me to regret our arrangement.

remember, i've bled for you once already.

without me, you'd have nothing.

i saw the wound with my own eyes, i swear it.

i've been having these hallucinations and these delusions.

okay, so a full-grown man bit you?

haven't you been listening to me?

i'm gonna be back in a minute.

please forgive me, but i desperately need your guidance.

i can only hope [ name ] will hear my plea.

i fear we may all be in grave danger.

if i'm correct it would mean [ name ] is in league with him.

what's so pressing?

i want to speak with [ name ].

i warned her, but she didn't listen.

what's this ruckus?

never come here again. they'll kill you.

like it or not, you're in the middle of a war that's raged for 1000 years.

no one's ever survived a bite from both species.

we have much to discuss, [ name ] and i.

she has shown me a great many disturbing things.

perhaps i should have left someone else in charge of my affairs.

you're in need of rest.

i've rested enough.

that bitch has betrayed me.

are you to be trusted?

it's time i filled you in on a few things.

i'm seeing these things, these hallucinations.

what are these for?

what do you do with them after?

why do you hate them so much?

why can't you just answer the question?

their screams woke me.

i'm afraid that i'm going to have to place my faith in you, my friend.

you know, if i knew then what i know now, i could have saved her.

i came over here to move on, to forget.

it seemed like a good idea at the time.

digging into the past is forbidden.

i should be heading back.

when the full moon rises tomorrow, you will change, you will kill, and you will feed.

how could you do this to me? embarrass me like this?

from here on out, you'll do as i say.

it is the oldest story in the book.

he desires the one thing he cannot have.

you do not possess the necessary skills.

there's been a complication.

how could you trust him over me?

these rules are in place for a good reason and they are the only reason we have survived this long.

you will not be shown an ounce of leniency.

you should've listened to me and stayed out of this.

soon, you'll be seeing things my way.

the perimeter sensor's been tripped.

are you fucking kidding me?

look, i want you to slip off the property and find out what's keeping her.

your incompetence is becoming most taxing.

now, i want you to tell them exactly what you told me.

soon, this house will lie in ruins.

you and you alone will know the truth of this.

it has already begun.

i'm sorry i doubted you.

it may take a little time for the grogginess to dissipate.

he's in desperate need of a lesson in manners.

speaking of manners, where are mine? forgive me.

there's no going back?

your war, it has nothing to do with me.

what are they gonna do to [ name ]?

i thought we had a deal.

there's no defeating him. he grows stronger as we speak.

is there another way out?

that's enough, you're coming with me!

your place is by my side.

is it not a fair trade, the life i have granted you? the gift of immortality?

soon i will become the hunted.

#horror sentence starters #rp sentence starters #rp memes #writing prompts #horror prompts #underworld sentence starters #film sentence starters #request

[givemearmstopraywith]

how do you feel about religious horror movies? there are a lot i really like, but religious fanaticism in horror movies sometimes feels cheap and exploitative to me. i watched the 1971 film the devils recently and loved it. i was wondering how you feel about movies like this. aesthetically it seems to be in the realm of stuff you post about, but i agree with the director when he said it was more of a political movie than a religious one -- the part of it i saw the most actual theological engagement in was the character of grandier, who has a lot of really interesting ideas about what being close to jesus means for him.

ive had the devils on my list for ages!! i'll preface this by saying i haven't seen it, but i agree with you: i think religious fanaticism, or cult horror in general, often comes off cheap. as a theologian my main focus is studying how dogma and institutionalized religion interact and affect the culture in which its situated- i believe there's far more worth in examining how religion (especially christianity) transforms the world than how the world transforms religion, which is generally how most christians view the relationship between the secular and the religious. it's difficult to engage with religious fanaticism without it being cheap because of the nature of western culture. whether we like it or not the west is constructed on religion. the catholic church is dynastic and it has outlived most monarchies and empires. engaging in religious or political criticism by showing fanaticism operates under the assumption that most religion is not fanatical, that fanaticism is exception. i don't think this is true: what is dogma if not orthodox fanaticism? how else can you interpret how christianity continues to break down human rights and becomes party to system oppression? what many horror directors try to render as fanatical and exceptional is completely ordinary. what person has not been bruised by the backhand of religion?

in general i really enjoy religious horror movies- i think religion in general is kind of horrifying, isn't it? to the extent that i think horror and faith are inextricable from each other, and the horror genre obviously borrows from religion a lot: la manoir du diable from 1896, widely considered to be the first horror film, is in fact religious horror. and if you are religious, the god(s) you believe in is (are) a haunting presence, whether you believe them to be loving and benevolent or cruel and exacting. i think this idea kind of gets lost in religious horror in favour of transforming human dogmatism into something metaphysical. the reality is that when most people have a bad experience with religion, they are not having a bad experience with a deity: they're having a bad experience with people acting on behalf of a deity. i think where horror about religious fanaticism feels cheap is where it brings in a supernatural element to "explain" that fanaticism. whether god is real or not, people become fanatical all on their own. that's the danger, isn't it? thank you for asking this btw!! its reminded me to finally watch the devils.

#replies