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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

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Chapter 16: An Understanding

Warnings: this one really isn’t bad, just a droid death and sappiness.

Author’s Note: Thank you to anyone who has supported this. We are almost there!

(If this is your gif please lmk!)

The sweet moment between the three of you was quickly ruined by a distant explosion, so the Mandalorian woman quickly rushed you all out after she quickly gave Mando a gift.

A Mandalorian jet-pack.

You had seen other Mandalorians use them in the past, and Mando seemed incredibly honored to have one, so if Mando was happy, you were happy.

The team followed the tunnel towards the smell of sulfur, trying your best to track the lava flats. You didn’t have much of choice. That was the only way out.

As you walked down the tunnels, you held the sleeping child in your arms, keeping him close to you. Mando walked next to you, stealing glances at you as you walked. You would glance back, but he would always face forward once more, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t starring. You would always smile at him when he would turn away, obviously embarrassed.

Who knew you could make a beskar covered warrior like that be embarrassed?

You felt at peace. At home. For once you actually had one. You didn’t even know how to describe the feeling. It’s like your anxious brain and beating heart finally subsided. Like your body relaxed, and you had nothing to fear. Sure, the team was still stuck in these tunnels and the exit would be swarming with stormtroopers, but you had backup. A team. A clan.

It felt like a new start.

Once you finally made it to the river’s edge, a boat was leaned up against the land. It had obviously seen better days and the droid inside hadn’t been used in a long time.

Great.

Mando and Karga tried pushing the boat, but that did no use, so Cara raised her rifle and shot the boat free from the hardened lava.

You smiled at her and chuckled, thinking about the fact she had outsmarted a Mandalorian and a well known Guild member. You were not surprised in the slightest.

You could’ve sworn she laughed back.

Everyone climbed into the boat, and by some miracle, the droid inside sputtered to life. It stood up, raising its paddle and dropping it into the orange liquid beside it. It then said some droid gibberish, which IG-11 presumed was a request.

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG said.

“Downriver. To the lava flats,” Karga said, and the droid set to paddling.

Mando was to your left, while Cara was at your right. The child had woken up once more, using his energy to chew on your thumb. Mando brought his hand up to his helmet, activating the thermal scanners.

“That’s it,” Karga yelled, pointing to the growing light coming from the end of the tunnel.

“We’re free!”

It had been a long time since you had heard something like that.

“No,” Mando said, squashing your elated mood.

“Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. They must know we are coming.”

“Stop the boat,” you said sternly to the ferry droid. The droid, however, gave no sign that he actually heard you.

“Hey,” Cara said firmly, walking up to the droid.

“She said stop the boat,” she said before shooting the droid’s head off.

You appreciated Cara’s act of defense for you, you really did, but it didn’t do any good. The boat kept moving.

There was no other way. You had to stand and fight.

You pulled your longspear from your back and tucked the child deeper into your arms. You had fought stormtroopers before, why would this time be any different?

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” IG said, and you turned your head to look back at him. Your confused expression accurately represented the feelings of the rest of the group as well.

“This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower pal,” Mando said in reply.

“You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective,” said the droid. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What?” you asked the droid.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

The droid looked at Mando and said, “Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive.”

“No,” Mando said, moving closer to the droid.

“You’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care,” the droid said, now looking at both you and Mando.

“But you will be destroyed-” you began to say.

“And you will live,” IG said. “I will have served my purpose.”

He looked to Mando and said, “There is nothing to be sad about.”

“I’m not…. sad,” Mando said, but you were no where near convinced. His voice was the only way for you to humanize him, and emotions were very easily traced on the voice. When you can’t see someone’s face, the voice is all they have. You had gotten good at that.

It seemed IG had gotten good at it too.

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice,” IG said before coming to the child and brushing his hand along his forehead.

No matter how little Mando wanted to deny it, the droid was your saving grace.

The droid then stepped into the boiling lava, and started making its way down towards the exit.

You watched the droid with wide and curious eyes. You had never seen a droid be so… selfless. You had always seen droids as mindless robots who only acted out of survival, but this one gave its life for you.

You wished you could repay him somehow.

When the detonator on the droid finally exploded, the child in your arms lifted his ears and watched. Even though the droid had been there for a small time, he was still the reason you and the child were alive. It seemed like the kid was loosing a friend.

You could see the pain in his eyes, and you wished you could take it all away from him and put it into your own.

Once the boat finally drifted into the tunnel, you saw the bodies of the stormtroopers on either side of the bank.

Maybe this actually… worked?

But, like many… many… times before, the scream of a tie fighter ruined all chances of an easy departure.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara shouted before raising her blaster and shooting at the aircraft. Mando and Karga immediately joined her, while you used your longspear to shield you and the child from any blaster fire.

The ship’s canons rained fire on the group for a couple seconds before the ship went roaring completely over your heads.

“He missed,” Karga said in relief.

“He won’t next time,” Mando said. The ship was already starting to turn back around.

“He mentioned he knew you,” Mando said to you, referring to when he was trapped in the town not even an hour before this.

“Yeah….” you said.

“I’ve pissed him off,” you chuckled out, and Mando looked at you with a breathy laugh as well.

“Hey,” Karga said suddenly. “Let’s have the kid do the magic hand thing.”

Oh great, you thought to yourself.

“Come on baby! Do the magic hand thing,” Karga said to the kid while wiggling his fingers.

The child only giggled in your arms and waved back, and you let a light chuckle come out of your nose.

“I’m out of ideas,” Karga said.

“I’m not,” Mando said, turning around to get the jet-pack from the boat.

You watched him walk away with a slight smirk on your face. You believed in Mando more than anyone, and you prayed he had enough training to know how to use that thing.

You saw the tie fighter making its way back to you through the corner of your eye, but you continued to watch Mando. He attached the pack to his back and then locked eyes with you before shooting into the sky like a rocket.

You watched him with a beating heart as he flew right in front of the tie fighter, allowing it to go under his feet. He then hooked his grappling cable onto the wing and used the jet pack to propel himself onto the cockpit window.

Even though you were scared out of your mind, you still managed to smile at the sight above you.

Your Mandalorian was incredible.

Mando’s blaster did almost no damage to the cockpit door before Moff Gideon jerked the ship to the left. The ship was starting to spiral, and your awe quickly turned into worry.

Mando was holding on with everything he had.

He all of a sudden let go and went soaring through the air. The left side of the ship completely exploded, which sent the ship careening to the ground. It burst into smoke on impact.

Barely a second later, your Mandalorian landed before you in a slight crouch, before standing to his full height.

The smile on your face said it all.

He chuckled slightly at your shocked and happy expression before taking the child from you and holding him in his arms. You walked to stand beside him and stare up to his face, proud and joyful.

You got a Mandalorian.

Karga and Cara stood before you two with equally shocked expressions

“That was impressive Mando,” Karga said. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

You grinned at Karga, enjoying his little tease.

“Any more stormtroopers?” Mando asked.

“I think we cleared the town,” Cara said with a laugh. “I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“You’re staying here?” Mando asked, equally confused as you were.

“Well, why not?” Karga asked. “Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.”

“As a bounty hunter hive?” Mando asked, and you once again giggled at his bluntness.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters,” Karga said with a bit of a chuckle.

“And perhaps”- he said while placing a hand on Cara’s shoulder- “this specimen of a soldier might consider joining our ranks.”

“And you, my friend”- he said while turning his attention back to Mando -“will be welcomed back into the Guild with open arms.”

Mando looked to the child in his arms, beaming up at him with utter adoration. He then looked to you at his side, and you gave him a smile that said I’m with you. With whatever you choose.

“I’m afraid I have more pressing mattors at hand,” he said, turning his head back to the child.

“Well you better keep watch of this one,” Karga said to Mando while gesturing to you.

“She could take your place at the Guild in a second,” he says, while snapping his fingers for emphasis.

“And she would do a damn good job,” he says, and you laugh in reply.

Mando gives a slight nod in agreement which only makes you laugh harder.

You can’t recall ever laughing this hard.

“Y/n,” Cara says, and you divert your attention back to her.

She is trying to look at you, but she just can’t meet your gaze.

“Listen… I… I’m really sorry. The Empire hurt me a lot and I just couldn’t…” she chokes out.

You could tell she was trying to apologize to you. For when your identity got revealed, for doubting your loyalty, or anything in between. She was obviously struggling, so you decided to help her along.

“Cara,” you said, and her eyes met yours.

“Your reaction was perfectly understandable. Truly. There is nothing to be sorry for,” you say, and a flash of relief skates over her eyes.

“I just saw how you were with Mando and the kid today and I…. I owed you an apology,” she said, and you smiled at her.

“Thank you, Cara. I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” you respond, and she smiles back at you. A genuine, relieved smile.

“As am I,” she says while leaning forward to caress the child’s ear.

“Take care of this little one,” Cara said to you and Mando. You gave her a respectful nod, acting as a promise that you would.

“Or maybe,” Karga added, “it will take care of you.”

You looked to Mando with a light smile, and you could tell he was grinning too.

The weight of guilt and shame had been lifted off of you. The people you cared for most forgave you. They looked at what you did right in the eyes, but looked past it, and saw you. You were sure it would take some time for them to completely trust you, but they were willing to try.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic @impala1967666

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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Hey! I love your meta’s, a little while ago you talked about The Order of the Phoenix as an organization could you talk about the Death Eaters?

The post anon is referencing.

TL;DR the Order is incompetently hilarious and Dumbledore is a man who trusts no one.

Oh, the Death Eaters, what to say about the Death Eaters...

In a World Without Voldemort, They'd Probably Be Arsonists

One of the things JKR implies in the series, and something fandom seems to take for granted, is that Tom Riddle is the ultimate corrupting influence.

Were it not for him, the Wizarding World would be a much better place, and people like Bellatrix LeStrange would be productive members of society.

As soon as he is killed, even, by Harry, the good guys win, their problems all presumably solved, and Harry tells his son Albus Severus that it's totally fine if he's put into Slytherin.

I don't believe that though.

To me, it's not so much that Tom Riddle corrupted these people, but that he gave them an organized cause. The people themselves, oh, they were itching for a fight.

In a world without Tom I think they'd be a loosely, poorly organized, group (probably with Bellatrix as the ring leader) where they commit acts of domestic terrorism probably involving burning offensive shops to the ground or attacking muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors.

Voldemort, to me, is designed to pander to them (and not the other way around).

The Death Eaters' Beginnings

So, first off, I think Tom's goals are not what he says they are. What he represents to his followers is exactly what they want to hear, wrapped in a grandiose theatric bow that they just love.

But how did this all start?

First, I don't believe in the Knights of Walpurgis. Instead I think Tom came relatively out of nowhere in the 70's uses parseltongue to prove his heritage as the Heir of Slytherin and thus of purer blood than any of them.

He throws these exciting rallies/parties that the rebellious, angsty, teenage heirs all go to. There he says everything they wanted to hear in the most eloquent manner they've ever heard, promises them the action that their fathers have never delivered, promises them a role in the glorious revolution and a place in history, and probably offers them mounds of cocaine.

All the Death Eaters we see, or the core of them, appear to be in this age range where they'd be in Hogwarts or just out of it when Voldemort came knocking. I can imagine they're all whipped up with excitement, YEAH LET'S BLOW UP THE MUDBLOODS and for some that's great, for others... things don't go the way they expected.

October 31, 1981: It All Falls Apart

Regulus famously steals Tom's horcrux. I imagine it wasn't so much that he learned the error of his ways but that he saw what Tom Riddle was really after: the destruction of his very society.

Lucius is riding high until October 31, 1981 and he sees the complete destruction of the entire Black family. Lucius' priorities greatly shift and as he grows older he prays Voldemort never returns. Unfortunately, Tom does, and he charges interest.

Bellatrix absolutely loses her mind, refuses to accept reality, and tries to torture the Longbottoms for information they do not possess. She is imprisoned in Azkaban and never truly recovers from this.

Snape ends up the cause of death for Lily Evans and must forever live with the guilt and be tied to her prophesied son. He also becomes Dumbledore's lackey forever, which ultimately gets him killed.

Point being, no one's having a good time. Some because they figure out being a Death Eater wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and others because they had the Voldemort rug pulled out from under their feet when Tom Riddle disappears.

Pettigrew flees and lives as the Weasley rat for nearly fifteen years.

They're left making a mad scramble as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Canon Catches Up

More than ten years go by and then suddenly, in a muggle graveyard, the surviving Death Eaters discover that they are bound to Voldemort for the rest of their lives.

Death cannot stop this man and he has branded them: there's no escape.

Some are still enthusiastic supporters of the cause: Bellatrix is vindicated that her lord has returned, he rescues her from hell on earth, and everything's finally coming up Bella. Barty is similar in actively working for Voldemort's resurrection.

Lucius, meanwhile, lives in constant terror. Karkaroff desperately flees the country and hopes Tom will not find him. Snape, is in fact, Dumbledore's agent. Pettigrew only returned in utter desperation and has now cut off his own hand.

They're not the young men they were, some of them have families, to some of the past ten years have been utterly miserable. They have to watch as their children make the same damn mistakes they did, be sucked into this same hell hole, and there's nothing they can do about it.

There is a notable reluctance for the cause, and yet, they have to try with the same vigor or this madman will kill them all.

And it's all worthless anyway: come 1998, Voldemort dies again (perhaps for real this time, who knows, Harry Potter seems to think so for whatever reason) and then they are imprisoned for their acts as Death Eaters.

And they just laugh, because how badly Lucius wishes he could go back in time and tell his eighteen-year-old self, "YOU DUMB FUCK, LEAVE NOW!"

But Do They Learn Anything?

No.

Just because we see some of them regret being Death Eaters doesn't mean they regret their beliefs. Their beliefs were fine, even blowing up people here and there, a bit gauche but fine.

But maybe following Voldemort blindly was a bad idea.

Are They More Competent Than the Order?

No.

Tom Riddle is terrifyingly competent in that he infiltrates the government with ease, has spies everywhere, and all but proclaims himself minister one day and nobody blinks.

He gains the full support of most of the wizarding world's wealthiest and prestigious families.

But he doesn't actually give these people anything to do. Because there's nothing for them to do, with them, Tom's won. He owns the Wizengamot, the Ministry, everything.

There's no need to fight. It's over, there never was a war. Society is primed to accept Tom Riddle as their ruler.

However, the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange thinks there's a glorious war on, so "uh, go out and blow up a few muggles, have fun." And the young Death Eaters (and the older ones), think they've committed this great, daring, brave, and very important act.

Tom only seems to hand out real assignments when in desperate straits or else when being particularly vindictive.

Lucius, after messing up with the diary, is told to retrieve a prophecy he is not allowed to touch in a department of the ministry he should have no access to. If he fails: Tom kills his entire family. When Lucius does fail, Tom assigns his son to assassinate an already dying Dumbledore. These aren't real tasks, though they do have the appearance of one, and consequences for failure.

Barty, Tom is forced to rely on, as he is trapped in this dying infant's body. And better Barty, someone who is truly loyal and seems fairly clever, than Peter Pettigrew who is a miserable scum bag who'd sell his grandmother for a bar of soap.

Barty, of course, fucks this up. Rather than just kidnap Harry Potter at any of the many easy points this could be done (Hogsmeade trip, lure Harry out to Hogsmeade with super secret serial information about Voldemort/Snape being a Death Eater, etc.), Barty is determined to make use of the Triwizard Tournament to destroy his father's legacy.

This means rather than a few weeks, it takes months to kidnap Harry, and even then they bring along an extra boy who then gets killed and provides some evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned. (Somebody murdered Cedric). It takes months and Barty actively ensuring Harry makes it through the tournament and does well, leaving open the possibility that he might get caught helping Harry cheat at any moment. And of course, Barty has to pretend to be Madeye Moody for months, keeping his man locked and drugged in his trunk.

Thankfully, Moody's such a paranoid wreck, no one even notices.

Quirrell, Tom is forced to rely on. Quirrell fucks up, though admittedly not as badly as Barty. Quirrell fails to steal the stone when it's in transit/in Gringotts. He fails to murder Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy in the world's most dangerous school. He rouses Snape's suspicion almost immediately. Then of course he doesn't get the stone. He at least gets to the room with the stone and nearly overpowers Harry and gets it had he not been mysteriously lit on fire by the power of love/Lily Evans.

The only one Tom ever really relies on by choice is Snape. Snape is charged with spying on Dumbledore and later running Hogwarts (which he fucks up).

There is only one competent man in Britain: Severus Snape. Which is, of course, why he's a double agent that Dumbledore and Tom both extensively rely on despite his being a double agent.

There's no one else.

Tom Riddle doesn't make use of the Death Eaters but given they prove themselves enthusiastically incompetent at every turn I don't blame him. Just pretend to give them something to do and hope it makes them feel important.

That's all I've got in general, you want anything else you'll have to ask for something more specific.

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forevercloudnine · 3 years

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pre-new 52 scarebat ship meme

(I actually have no idea what to call this period of comics. The dc wiki calls this the “New Earth” universe... it’s like, everything after Jason Todd was retconned out of being a circus acrobat up to Flashpoint. Anyway like a month ago I asked @heroes-etc to send me questions for this version of scarebat from this ship meme but then forgot that I did it because I got distracted by other ships. Sorry Jonathan...)

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Bruce does DO physical affection — I mean, how many comic panels do we even have of him making out with Catwoman on rooftops — but he’s not especially forthcoming with it. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that his love interests are more likely to instigate contact than he is, especially when that love interest is a villain like Selina or Talia (can you even IMAGINE him trying to take them off guard in a fight by grabbing their face for a kiss? Because I cannot).

He does occasionally instigate affection with his children/proteges, though usually it’s in instances where they obviously need comfort. Bruce isn’t always great at handling complicated emotional situations, but grief and trauma is something he understands very intimately, and he never hesitates to physically reassure people who are in that kind of pain.

In situations where someone isn’t in the active process of being traumatized, he’s less forward with physical affection. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll reject it if it’s instigated — depending on who you are, of course. I’m guessing he wouldn’t put up with hugs from random members of the Justice League. Superman is his best friend and he would probably try to wiggle out of 90% of Kal hugs if doing so was physically possible. Most of his loved ones don’t really spring physical affection on him unless they need it or it’s an especially emotional moment, however. It’s not really Bruce’s primary love language.

Jonathan seems even less physically affectionate than Bruce, though obviously doesn’t have a lot of opportunity to demonstrate how he feels either way. Master of Fear offers the only example of him expressing explicitly romantic affection that I know of (unless you count his terrorizing Becky Albright in New Year’s Evil as physical affection, which... might be how he’s thinking of it...?), and it’s entirely instigated by Sherry Squire. He does ask her to the Halloween party, but she’s the one who takes him down to the furnace room for some “one-on-one” time and tells him to kiss her.

He also notably does not actually get a chance to kiss her, mainly because the whole thing was a prank meant to humiliate him. This might be why he doesn’t try to instigate anything similar with his next crush, Dr. Linda Friitawa (again, unless you count Becky Albright, but I can’t find New Year’s Evil to read anywhere so my only knowledge of his interaction with her comes from Tumblr. I’m like 80% sure he was supposed to be interested in her romantically, but asking someone to do supervillainy with you isn’t the most direct way to express attraction, so I’m taking that as more obliqueness from Jonathan).

He never expresses any direct romantic interest in Linda, but at the very least he clearly cares about her more than he cares for most people, since he, like. Defends her in conversation and apologizes to her for things that aren’t even his fault. Which means a lot, coming from a sociopath with no regard for human life. They do hold hands at one point, but Linda reaches out to him first, and he waits to see if she’s going to back away from his reciprocated touch before he reaches for her other hand.

He never instigates anything further with her, possibly out of fear of rejection. Unfortunately, it turns out that this was a good call, because Linda was only pretending to be nice to him while Penguin was paying her to experiment on Jonathan without his knowledge. When Batman figures out what they’re doing, she immediately fucks off and starts dating Black Mask.

Even more unfortunately, his 45 seconds of hand holding with Backstabby McMad Scientist is probably the only mutual physical affection Jonathan has ever experienced in his entire life, so honestly I have no idea if he would be more into it as a concept if it was offered to him more often. He’s clearly willing to return physical contact when it’s initiated by someone else, so maybe it is something he would seek out in an actual relationship? He DOES get handsy with Bruce when he has Batman tied up sometimes.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Trip out on fear toxin, both of them, hands down. There are few things more embarrassing than, as Jonathan aptly describes it, being “reduced to whimpering quivers” in front of your enemy. Especially an enemy who’s presumably jotting down notes on your worst fears, since Batman/Scarecrow fights tend to just be competitions in who’s more frightening.

11. What do they hide from one another?

I mean, obligatory mention of the fact that Bruce hides things from absolutely everyone (with the possible exception of Alfred, because Bruce trusts him as completely as he is capable of trusting anyone, and also because it’s really hard to hide things from a parent whose involved in every aspect of your life and already knew you before you developed your pathological need to obfuscate your feelings and intentions).

As Wonder Woman pretty aptly describes during the Tower of Babel arc, even Bruce’s closest allies are never going to hear the full story from him. So it’s deeply unlikely he’d ever be 100% truthful with a supervillain, even if they got close AND Jonathan reformed.

But it’s notable that Jonathan’s fear toxin has actually given him a more honest look into Bruce’s psyche than he would ever purposefully give to people who aren’t close family members. And by “close family members” I again pretty much just mean Alfred. Unfortunately for Bruce, nothing forces emotional transparency like mind altering drugs. Fortunately for Jonathan, nothing forces emotional transparency like mind altering drugs! Not that I’m recommending that anyone drug a romantic partner into being honest with them. But Jonathan is a trained psychiatrist, so I assume his psychological know-how combined with insights gleaned from the dozens of “sessions” he’s had with Batman in the past would leave him more prepared than most to decipher the mystery that is Bruce Wayne. (@heroes-etc: riddler is SEETHING.)

Jonathan meanwhile is more than capable of putting together a clandestine scheme, but in respect to himself he’s actually pretty straightforward. Though his driving motivation in this continuity gets more and more complicated over time, from the early 90’s “I just like fear” to the early 2000’s “my Granny tortured me with birds when I was a child and now I’m obsessed with inspiring the same fear and submission she forced on me onto others,” what doesn’t change is his willingness to monologue about it to anyone who’s listening.

Also, anything that Jonathan is unable or unwilling to go into detail on, Bruce is more than capable of puzzling out himself. In Scarecrow: Year One he successfully tracks down Jonathan’s old home to recover and read through Granny Keeney’s diary, and after Scarecrow’s Master of Fear origin was published, it’s clear that Bruce has done his research on Jonathan’s childhood. There’s even a (presumably unintentionally) hilarious scene where Bruce pauses mid-rescue of a man that Jonathan has kidnapped and traumatized with fear toxin to lecture him on having bullied Jon in high school.

Is this really the time, Bruce???

(@heroes-etc: oh 100% he nailed that timing.)

13. When do they realise they should get together?

Well, circling back to Tower of Babel, it’s revealed when Ra’s al Ghul has Talia steal Bruce’s contingency plans for defeating the Justice League that Bruce has “borrowed” Scarecrow’s fear toxin in case he has to take down Aquaman.

This was back when Scarecrow had a number of different toxins that induced different phobias, or made people hallucinate hyper-specific nightmare scenarios (such as “being eaten alive by roaches from the inside,” for some terrible reason). Batman notes in his contingency files that Scarecrow has already done the work for him; presumably Jonathan had already designed a formula to induce hydrophobia, so all Bruce had to do was steal a vial of it from a crime scene.

(The sentence “Why not make him incapacitate himself... perhaps through fear?” alone is like 90% of why I think these men would get along like burlap on fire if they ever actually cooperated on something. Also, unrelated, but the polaroid of Jonathan he has in the Aquaman file is weirdly adorable.)

Bruce’s plan for Arthur is incredibly effective, and notably also Bruce’s only contingency that isn’t either inherently lethal or a ruthlessly sociopathic betrayal of emotional vulnerabilities that had been revealed to him in trust and friendship (RIP Kyle Rayner).

(Notably, Bruce’s plans for Kyle and several other leaguers directly involve using their worst fears against them, even without a fear toxin conveniently tailored for this purpose. Bruce just really likes using fear as a weapon against people.)

After Tower of Babel, Bruce obviously needed to create new contingencies, since the whole point is that they were secret plans that no one could see coming. In canon, Bruce goes on to create the A.I. satellite Brother Eye for this purpose (which backfires even worse than his first set of contingency plans, because of course it does). But I think an interesting alternative could have been Bruce tapping Jonathan for more toxin strands tailored to taking down the Justice League. If Bruce Wayne offered to pay Scarecrow’s way out of Arkham in order to develop formulas that could neutralize the world’s most powerful superheroes, is there any way that Jonathan would turn him down? I mean, obviously he would plan on betraying Wayne at some point, and Bruce would similarly be working against Jonathan’s best interests. But maybe if they set aside their “who’s scarier” dick measuring contest to work together for once, they could come to recognize their shared passion: scaring the shit of people.

Also, the Jonathan in this continuity really likes books. And you know what’s a reliably sustainable source of books that can’t be confiscated by the authorities? Dating Bruce Wayne. The manor alone probably has an insane amount of rare books that have been hoarded by his family over the years. It’s like a weird reversal of the Beauty and the Beast, where the rude rich guy who gives a library to the love interest he may or may not have technically kidnapped is the pretty one.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

If they were dating, I’m guessing Jonathan wouldn’t want to go anywhere in public with Bruce at all. Bruce Wayne is a celebrity bachelor, and celebrity bachelors get a lot of attention, and people who take celebrity bachelors off the market get a lot of NEGATIVE attention. The public reaction to Bruce settling into a committed relationship with anyone would be the kind of weirdly resentful gossipy judgement that the girlfriends of famous princes or actors or musicians always get from tabloids and entertainment television, but in Jonathan’s case it would be a million times worse. Not just because he’s a supervillain, because if there’s any town that would expect its most eligible bachelor to eventually date a supervillain, it’s Gotham. But more specifically because “ugly social outcast” is one of Scarecrow’s most enduring character traits. Not exactly the traditional trophy wife. And though Jonathan’s Scarecrow identity seems to distance him from a lot of the shame he suffered growing up, I’m guessing that the kind of spiteful vitriol that would follow him anywhere he accompanied Bruce would at the least bring back some very unwanted memories.

Bruce probably doesn’t have the same discomfort Jonathan would with being seen together in public. He doesn’t care if people think Bruce Wayne is insane or lacking in judgement as long as they don’t think he’s Batman, and I’m sure he’d find a way to spin “dating a man who prefers to dress exclusively in burlap” into something appropriately characteristic of playboy idiocy. But while he'd definitely respect Jonathan's wishes to stay out of the public sphere, he would probably enjoy any opportunity to bring Scarecrow into Gotham high society, since his presence would definitely shake up a party, and Bruce is generally extremely bored at any social event where he doesn’t have anyone to snark with. And with Jonathan’s scathing wit as entertainment, Bruce might one day fulfill Alfred’s wish and actually make it through an intermission sometime.

I’d say that Bruce would be nervous about taking Jonathan out for “field research,” but I’m sure it would be one of Scarecrow’s requirements for any long term collaboration, so it’s something that he would have to get used to pretty quickly. He would probably endeavor to keep Jonathan away from anything that could retrigger his less healthy behaviors. On the other hand, it’s not like Bruce does that for himself, so it stands to reason that he probably wouldn’t be able to successfully control Jonathan in that regard either.

It doesn’t help that one of Jonathan’s primary motivations in villainy is his childhood, which is... exactly the same thing that Bruce is fixated on. A significant portion of Scarecrow: Year One is the two of them waxing poetic about how similar they are in this regard.

Relating to this, even though it might be a terrible idea, I don’t think Bruce would be able to resist encouraging Jonathan to reconnect with his mom. Bruce would never recommend for someone like Cassandra to seek out a relationship with her father, but if someone he cares about has a LIVING parent who WASN’T abusive to them? It seems unlikely that Bruce wouldn’t advocate for reconciliation. Jonathan’s dad obviously never cared about the teenage girl he knocked up or their bastard child, but Karen Keeney is a different story. DC Holiday Special ‘09 makes it clear that Jonathan was taken away from her against her will, and she’s spent a significant portion of her life wracked by guilt imagining what the woman who abused her was doing to her son.

Ultimately she attempts to commit suicide because she feels personally responsible for every terrible thing her son has ever done, which is tragic because really she’s the only member of the Keeney family completely blameless in the creation of the Scarecrow. In Scarecrow: Year One Jonathan clearly resents her for leaving him and moving on to have another baby that she actually did keep, which I would call a really paranoid case of jumping to conclusions if it didn’t seem extremely likely that Granny Keeney told him his mother didn’t want him and left him to be tortured on purpose.

(Side note, it is REALLY weird how young Karen Keeney is depicted in Scarecrow: Year One. At times her son looks older than she is, and it doesn’t help that her second born child is an infant for some reason. Even if Jonathan is only thirty years old here, then unless she had him at younger than fourteen, she should already be in her mid-forties. Why did she only have a second child so late in life? The implication with her abusive husband is that she ended up getting trapped in a bad relationship for survival when her family kicked her out as a teenager for disgracing the family by having Jonathan. It would make way more sense for her child with him to be at least in elementary school. Also the scene would have been way more interesting if Scarecrow’s sister was old enough to talk.)

Thankfully Deadman manages to convince Karen to hold on to life long enough for someone to call 911, and she ends up surviving the suicide attempt. But were Jonathan ever to reform, it seems like reconciliation would be really healthy for both of them, since miraculously Karen still seems to care about Jonathan despite everything he’s put her through, and they’re both clearly still suffering from the after effects of Mary Keeney’s abuse.

Bruce would be enthusiastic about this prospect for obvious reasons, although he would presumably still be nervous about the possibility of everything going terribly wrong. And even if everything went perfectly right, he would STILL be nervous, because everytime Jonathan goes to see his mother there’s a chance that she will mention the time that she kissed Batman full on the mouth. And that is not information you would ever want your psychologist boyfriend to know, unless you want to be mocked with Freudian buzzwords for the rest of your natural life.

(...This would also count as a thing that Bruce hides from Jonathan.)

#scarebat #jonathan crane #scarecrow #bruce wayne #batman #i just they're neat #it's all about those shared interests #and by shared interests i mean subjugating your enemies through fear #ship meme

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astrawords · 4 years

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a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see

Characters: Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian (& Co) Rating: T Warnings/Tags: No Major Warnings, Canon-Compliant(ish), Post-Canon(ish), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angst, Angst With Happy Ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation, Jin Ling has too many uncles, Jin Ling deserves a hug, Jin Ling will save us all, excessive verbosity by yours truly

Summary: For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he has been immune to the majority of supernatural hauntings that plague the cultivation world.

Or: what if Jin Ling had received his first-month birthday gift.

Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to MXTX and The Untamed. Set in CQL!verse. Before anyone asks, yes, I have read the novel.

Notes: HELLO! It has been a really long time since I ventured into full-on fic writing. This makes me nervous to post (I am @amedetoiles posting on my writing blog btw), but I was rambling to @winepresswrath about this and so of course I wrote it instead of doing productive adult things. Only this really got away from me. It was only supposed to be a short “what if” ficlet about Jin Ling, but Yunmengbros and their loud ass feelings got in the way, and it ended up being almost 10K D: Also, for @goblinish who was sad about jzasshole breaking wwx’s gift.

Basically, everything at Qiongqi Path still happened, but Wei Wuxian got the bracelet back before Jin Zixun crushed it (somehow), and it was delivered to Jiang Yanli shortly after the Wens surrendered (also somehow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ PLOT? WHAT IS PLOT?). Not beta’d. We gonna die like wwx here.

[Read on AO3]

---

For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he has been immune to the majority of supernatural hauntings that plague the cultivation world. Any spirit or ghoul he has ever encountered would promptly redirect itself towards another target as if he were surrounded by an invisible barrier.

The first time it happens, he’s eight-years-old and accompanying his jiujiu to watch the YunmengJiang disciples get rid of a water ghost. In the midst of a coordinated luring, the water ghost had shot up right in front of him. Frantic, his uncle had thrown his arm out to shield him, only for the water ghost to hover above Jin Ling’s head with apparent confusion before diving back underneath the murky waters.

To this day, he still hasn’t forgotten the look on his uncle’s face.

(He tries to bring it up to his jiujiu only once, but Jiang Cheng had stared at him with a terrifying mix of fury and anguish that Jin Ling quickly learns to never mention it again, the same way he stops bringing up his mother.)

After a while, Jin Ling stops questioning it. Even if it’s a little strange, he can’t complain when it makes night hunting significantly more advantageous for him.

Of course, this doesn’t stop Jin Chan and his lackeys from mocking him relentlessly about it like they do with everything else. Their taunting comments that even the lowest of beings don’t want anything to do with him cut deeper than he pretends otherwise, adding to all the other still-healing wounds riddled across his chest. He punches Jin Chan partly in retaliation, but mostly because the throbbing in his hands makes him forget about the ache. At least for a while.

Silently, Jin Ling likes to think that maybe his parents are protecting him from beyond the grave, that perhaps their spirits are shielding him somehow, even if it’s a little farfetched. His memories of them are a gentle blur of gold and violet hues. On lonelier nights, they provide him with warmth when everything else is cold.

He carries his father’s sword with him like an anchor to that brief moment in his life when his family had been whole. The YunmengJiang bells are tied to his waist, marking him uniquely as an heir to two major sects. On his right wrist is his most treasured possession of all (though he will deny it if anybody asks)–the beaded bracelet his mother had left for him.

It was handcrafted. He knows from the hours and hours he’s spent tracing the uneven edges to the miniature nine-petaled lotus that sits at the knot and the intricately carved designs on the other beads. He isn’t sure who made it for him. From the little that he’s heard of her, his mother hadn’t been skilled at craftsmanship, and he has never been able to find anything similar in the markets. It certainly doesn’t match the golden opulence of LanlingJin to think that his parents had had it custom-made from a Lanling artisan.

Jiang Cheng skirts around the question whenever Jin Ling brings it up to him, but ever since that day on the lake, he’s caught his uncle gazing at it with eyes reflecting a confusing storm of unreadable emotions. Jin Ling tries his best to keep the bracelet hidden underneath his sleeve as often as he can, but he never takes it off, cherishing it like a lifeline–a symbol of a time when he’d been adored by the mother and father he never got to meet.

He tells himself it’s enough. (Sometimes he even believes it.)

As Jin Ling grows older and starts participating in more night hunts, he begins to realize that his immunity isn’t absolute. The fiercer the spirit, the more powerful the demon, the less likely his natural defense seems to hold. He still fares far better than the other disciples in his class. Partly because it holds up long enough for him to gather his bearings, and partly because his uncle is never too far behind, looming tall and threatening like the purple thunderstorms that roll through the Yunmeng skies during the summer.

It’s more comforting than he’ll ever admit, even if Jin Ling has a habit of running off without telling him. He wants to prove to his uncle that he’s strong and skilled enough to not need saving (and maybe a little bit to prove everyone else wrong, too).

But sitting in a room now trapped with a lunatic in a mask, even he has to admit that breaking into a haunted shrine was perhaps not the brightest idea he’s ever had. Being saved by Mo Xuanyu (if this man even is Mo Xuanyu–he certainly doesn’t act like the disgraced disciple he remembers) also hadn’t been on the list of things he’s ever wanted to experience.

If Jin Ling dies here, then his uncle is going to bring him back to life for the sole purpose of breaking his legs for not listening. (He might even admit to deserving it this once.)

Shuffling backwards on the bed, Jin Ling sputters angrily to hide the anxiety shooting up his spine as he frantically looks for an escape route. “You–! What were you taking off my clothes for? Where’s my sword? Where’s my dog?”

“Hey,” not-Mo Xuanyu says indignantly with his hands on his hips. “I just spent a lot of effort getting you out of the wall. You don’t know how to say thank you?”

Finding Suihua at his side, Jin Ling grabs it and raises it threateningly. “If it wasn’t for that, you would already be dead!”

“Alright, alright,” the man says, stepping back with a nervous laugh and raising his hands. “Listen. One death is enough for me. Be good. Put the sword down, okay?”

Jin Ling glares at him suspiciously but still lowers Suihua slowly to his lap. His sleeve rides up in the process, and not-Mo Xuanyu’s eyes travel to the bracelet on his wrist. The man freezes with a sharp intake of breath. “Jin Ling,” he whispers. “That bracelet…”

Jin Ling quickly covers it with his hand. “My mother left me this,” he snaps. “Don’t touch it!”

But the man doesn’t move, staring at Jin Ling with wide shocked eyes that he can see even through the mask. “Your… mother…?” he repeats, sounding strangled and winded, like he’s been knocked over.

“What’s it to you? It’s none of your business!” Jin Ling tells him hotly. Not-Mo Xuanyu doesn’t seem to hear him, standing so still that Jin Ling thinks he may as well have been stone if not for the way his hands were gripping at the skirts of his robes. Seeing the opportunity, he quickly puts on his boots and bolts from the room, ignoring the delayed shouts coming from behind him as he speeds away in search of his jiujiu and Fairy.

Predictably, Jiang Cheng scolds him loudly enough to echo through the dark empty streets for running off on his own again once Jin Ling finally makes his way back to the holding spot where the YunmengJiang entourage were waiting. Unpredictably, however, his uncle’s tirade gets interrupted by a now far-too familiar yelping as not-Mo Xuanyu falls out from an alcove with a string of exceedingly embarrassing whimpers, cowering into the ground as Fairy comes trotting along after him.

On the one hand, it all goes about the same as all the other demonic cultivators Jin Ling has watched his uncle hunt down over the years in search of Wei Wuxian’s returning soul, and yet, oddly, on the other hand, it’s not the same at all.

For one, he’s never seen that look cross his uncle’s face before when not-Mo Xuanyu finally removes his mask. For another, he’s never seen a cultivator unlucky enough to catch his uncle’s ire look back with such defiance.

Maybe that’s what pushes Jin Ling to lie to his uncle about seeing the Ghost General outside the village. That, and the man had saved him after all. No one besides his two uncles have ever bothered to do anything for Jin Ling, let alone dig him out of a cursed trap he unwittingly fell into on his own. (No one’s ever apologized to him either, and he’s left stumbling between embarrassment at being caught off guard and his practiced arrogance, completely unsure how to navigate around the strange almost proud smile on the man’s face that reminds him so much of his jiujiu’s rare satisfied grin.)

“That bracelet,” not-Mo Xuanyu says slowly. Jin Ling steps back, his hand automatically coming up to cover his wrist as he stares back with a narrowed look. The man rolls his eyes. “Ai-ya, what’s that look for? I’m not going to steal it, brat. I was just… wondering if you knew who made it.”

Jin Ling frowned. “I already told you, my mother gave it to me,” he says testily, still suspicious. “What’s it to you?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing,” the man says with a light innocent tone. “I just wanted to know where one might be able to find a bracelet like that, is all.”

Jin Ling scoffs, crossing his arms. “It’s an original. You won’t be able to find it anywhere.” Even though he’s never been entirely sure of that fact, there is still an unmistakable pride that colors his words as he says them.

“Hm,” not-Mo Xuanyu nods thoughtfully, lips quirking. After a beat of silence, the man says softly, “She must have loved you very much, Jin Ling. To want to protect you even after she was gone.”

Jin Ling flushes a bright red, taken aback by the bold words. Aside from the stories he’s heard from the nursemaids at Koi Tower who cared for him and what little he could get out of his jiujiu, no one has ever willingly spoken to him about his parents. And certainly no one, not even his uncle, has ever so matter-of-factly stated that his mother had loved him to his face. To think that this not-Mo Xuanyu, of all people, would be the first is ridiculously absurd, to say the least, even as his heart does something funny in his chest.

Belatedly, his mind catches up to the second half of what the man had said, and his head shoots up. “Protect me?” Jin Ling asks quickly.

Not-Mo Xuanyu hums again, turning away from Jin Ling suddenly. His voice sounds strangely thick when he says, “Of course. Why else would she leave you with spirit-repelling beads?”

Jin Ling starts in surprise. “Spirit-repelling?” he whispers as he lifts his wrist in front of him. “How– how do you know?”

The same smile from before was on the man’s face again as he looks at Jin Ling with an expression that feels strikingly familiar. “I can feel the spiritual energy coming off of them,” he says. “You’ll see. As your cultivation gets stronger.”

Jin Ling’s mouth forms a small oh but the sound barely leaves him as he stares intently at his bracelet as if seeing it for the first time. A burst of warmth floods into his chest, spreading all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. His mother, protecting him from beyond the grave, like he’s always hoped, has always dreamed. His head spins, feeling off balanced with his sixteen years long question suddenly answered by a man who shouldn’t have known anything at all, and yet…

A hand comes down on his shoulder, and he looks up, eyes wide. Not-Mo Xuanyu is smiling gently, his gaze soft. “She would be happy to see you doing so well.”

A lump forms in Jin Ling’s throat as his eyes burn, and he quickly shrugs off the man’s hand before he does something stupid like cry. “Who are you to say that to me?” he demands hotly, the tips of his ears going red from embarrassment. He quickly shoves away the revelation in favor of shouting at the elder for putting his brazenness.

In the days following, he spends an inordinate amount of time fiddling with the bracelet in a way he hasn’t felt the need to since he was thirteen, trying to concentrate on his qi to see if he could visualize the spiritual energy. After far too many hours, he is only able to catch the faintest trace of it, a crimson glow that fades quickly from his focus, but he feels so victorious as if he’s crafted the beads himself with his own bare hands. Perhaps that not-Mo Xuanyu is useful for something after all. He shakes his head, pushing all thoughts of that outrageous man from his mind.

But even as he tries, he can’t quite seem to forget how not-Mo Xuanyu had gazed at him with the same look in his eyes that his jiujiu has carried for all sixteen years of Jin Ling’s life.

Life becomes an unexpected whirlwind of chaos.

Jin Ling decides as he’s sitting tied to a rock on a poisonous mountain, being forced to listen to Jin Chan’s irritating complaining that, like everything else in his life, it is entirely Wei Wuxian’s fault.

Wei Wuxian, who not only murdered his father and got his mother killed, had then showed up at Dafan Mountain pretending to be that crazy Mo Xuanyu, setting his entire life into a downward spiral of unending problems, including but not limited to: his uncle’s ire, getting silenced by Hanguang-jun, creepy dead cats, fierce corpses, almost-poisoning, a sociopath and his murderous rogue cultivator-turned-corpse, and now kidnapping.

(The traitorous part of Jin Ling’s mind, probably responsible for the sharp burn of guilt in his stomach ever since Wei Wuxian had left Koi Tower bleeding from his sword, reminds him that the man has also guided him, protected him, and saved his life again and again. He had squeezed Jin Ling’s shoulders, looked at him with a proud smile, and told him his mother had loved him.)

Jin Ling gets into an argument with Jin Chan just to stop the storm of thoughts threatening to consume him. He isn’t entirely surprised when they’re interrupted by the same man who had set his life aflame, only for him to come save them all yet again.

He watches Wei Wuxian stand in front of a mob of cultivators all clamoring for his death with the same cool defiance Jin Ling has come to recognize, listens to his not-uncle expertly and systematically reveal Sect Leader Su’s secret treachery, and feels a confusing mix of delight and pride. When Wei Wuxian then throws himself into the line of fire as bait, exactly like he had in Yi City when he had protected them all from Xue Yang, it isn’t anger that fills Jin Ling but instead concern, worry–a fear that his… that Wei Wuxian might not make it out alive. He does, and Jin Ling doesn’t know what to do with the relief that floods through him.

The next evening Jin Ling leaves Lotus Pier without permission. Though he hasn’t seen his uncle all day, word of his uncle’s strange behavior has spread like wildfire through the YunmengJiang disciples. He tells himself that he’s sneaking out because he doesn’t want to get caught in his uncle’s temper and not at all because he maybe wants to run into someone who had left without even saying goodbye to him.

With the way everything has been tracking lately, it really shouldn’t have surprised him that he winds up where he is.

But it does, and he’s left trapped in a temple with two of the most powerful cultivators in the world now defenseless, and the man who has saved him time and time again unable to intervene, all while his own uncle orchestrates the whole thing without remorse.

He’s never been very good at following orders, so Jin Ling tries to escape as they’re pushed into the temple (his xiao-shushu can’t possibly be serious about killing Fairy, right?). He’s grabbed almost immediately by Su She. He struggles, yelling, and forcibly yanks his arm out of the other man’s grip, but his bracelet comes off his wrist as he pulls himself away. He watches, eyes going wide with horror as the bracelet soars into the air and lands on the ground, the impact scattering the beads all across the open courtyard, disappearing into the drenching downpour of rain.

It’s like a blade straight through his heart, and he stares, shock still, at his mother’s broken bracelet.

His vision is blurring with tears before he even realizes. “You!” Jin Ling screams angrily. Suihua is unsheathed and in his hands, and he swings it viciously at Su She. He’s deflected easily, and then freezes, feeling the points of several swords now at his throat.

“Su-zongzhu!” Wei Wuxian shouts, darting forward, but is stopped by two Jin disciples who grab ahold of his arms. “Get away from him!”

Su She sneers. “Yiling laozu,” he drawls disdainfully. “You’re not in the position to be giving orders.”

Something extraordinarily murderous flashes through Wei Wuxian’s eyes. For a brief moment, they almost seem to glow red with rage. “Su She, I am warning you, do not go too far,” he growls icily. Jin Ling gulps, shivering despite himself, and knows suddenly why his jiujiu and Wei Wuxian are brothers.

“Minshan,” Jin Guangyao interrupts calmly from the steps. Jin Ling swallows tightly as the swords are lowered, looking up at the man who has helped raise him, now staring at him with none of the warmth or concern he has grown up knowing, and feels hollow.

They’re pushed into the temple, and Jin Ling lowers himself onto the stone floor, Suihua cradled in his lap like a protective blanket. There are grey eyes across from him watching, pinched with worry, but Jin Ling doesn’t notice as he shakes with fury and anguish.

His wrist has never felt so bare.

Jin Ling sits on a pillar and stares morosely at the beads he’s gathered in his hands. Some of them are cracked, and the sight sends more pain lancing through his chest, sharper than any of the barbs anyone has ever thrown at him. The bitter angry tears finally spill down his cheeks.

There are more important things that he should be focusing on, like the millions of earth-shattering truths that have thrusted themselves upon his reality in the past few hours, but all he can see is the broken remains of his mother’s bracelet resting in his trembling hands.

“Jin Ling!”

He looks up and only barely catches sight of the black robes and red hair ribbon before he’s suddenly engulfed into a bone-crushing hug. Wei Wuxian (his uncle?) scolds him for being so reckless, an unbearable thread of frantic concern in his voice, and Jin Ling feels his face heat up. Even Jin Guangyao (resolutely, he doesn’t think past the name), the softer of his two uncles, had never been so casual and open with his care.

Wei Wuxian pulls back but doesn’t release him, holding him by the shoulders and frowning at him with an earnest worry that makes his face color even more. “A-Ling, promise me you won’t ever do something so stupid like that again.”

Jin Ling flounders, struggling to keep himself together in the face of this man’s unending onslaught of affection, but still can’t help but squawk indignantly. “You can’t scold me!” he throws back, a petulant frown forming on his lips. He pushes himself free, holding the beads close to his chest. “Go away. You’re going to break them even more!”

Wei Wuxian blinks down at Jin Ling’s hands, and then back to Jin Ling’s face, at his quivering lips, at the stubborn collection of tears in the corner of his eyes, and he softens.

“Silly boy,” Wei Wuxian admonishes quietly as he kneels down in front of Jin Ling. “What are you crying for?”

“I’m not crying!” Jin Ling retorts even as he wipes furiously at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Give them here,” Wei Wuxian says and takes all the beads into his hands. Jin Ling makes a sharp noise of distress, but Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “I’m not going to break them, A-Ling.” Reaching into his robes, he produces a new cord from his qiankun pouch, and Jin Ling’s eyes widen in surprise.

He watches Wei Wuxian thread each bead through the cord with nimble fingers, repairing the cracked ones with expertly drawn talismans that glow a very familiar crimson, and he knows.

“There,” Wei Wuxian says as he finishes tying the final knot and seals his work with another complicated sigil. With gentle hands, he slips the bracelet back onto Jin Ling’s right wrist and glances up at him with a soft smile. “See? Good as new.”

Jin Ling doesn’t move. There is a mad rushing sound in his ears. His heart is in his mouth. His vision is blurring.

Wei Wuxian reaches up, and he feels a thumb on his cheek, brushing away the stray tears that are falling. His uncle’s smile is immeasurably fond, tender, and also something achingly familiar that wrenches a sixteen-year old memory out of Jin Ling’s howling heart, making him think words like love and warmth and safe.

Across the courtyard, Jiang Cheng is watching them, his face reflecting that unreadable chaos Jin Ling has come to know so well (and has just realized why). Wei Wuxian looks over, too, but no words pass between the two brothers. Maybe there are no more words left to say. Maybe enough words are still lying on the ashy floors of the destroyed temple behind them. (Maybe they are all resting on Jin Ling’s wrist like they have for sixteen years.)

In the span of a few weeks, everything that Jin Ling has grown up knowing and believing has crumbled under his feet. He has come closer to death than he’s ever been before. His neck stings from betrayal. His head throbs from where he hit it falling onto the stone floor. His hands are still trembling.

He’s lost an uncle.

But somehow, kneeling in front of him, he’s gained another, one who’s been with him all along, who’s been protecting him for his entire life.

Seven months into Jin Ling’s term as the new LanlingJin sect leader, more than the sycophantic elders trying to curry his favor where before they had only looked at him with disdain, more than all the smaller clans trying to take advantage of his age and inexperience, and more than the overwhelming task of having to clean up after Jin Guangyao’s political mess (or the frighteningly painful shadows of the man he still sees everywhere at Koi Tower), it’s his two maternal uncles who are driving him slowly toward insanity the most.

“We could lock them up together until they finally talk,” Ouyang Zizhen suggests, after Jin Ling finishes regaling his friends over dinner with a tale of how a perfectly well-planned unassuming meal with both his uncles at Koi Tower had turned into an epic debacle. Even this morning, the servants were still trying to scrub away the damage done to his private dining hall.

“Do you want to die?” Lan Jingyi says through a mouthful of rice, still the most un-Lan disciple he’s ever met wearing the cloud-patterned forehead ribbon. “Because Jiang-zongzhu will definitely kill us.” He then adds, after a beat, “After he kills Wei-qianbei.”

Jin Ling groans and lets his forehead fall onto the table with a thunk. “Not. Helping.”

Lan Sizhui pats him on his arm. “Jin Ling,” he says, “it’s not your responsibility to make sure Wei-qianbei and Jiang-zongzhu get along.”

He’s right. Jin Ling knows he’s right, and not because Sizhui is usually right. Neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng has ever asked him to embark on this solely self-decided journey to fix their estranged relationship. Both of them seem frustratingly content with the current status quo, only really maintaining some level of stilted cordiality wherever Jin Ling is concerned.

But he has gotten exceptionally tired of having to juggle around both of them. Neither of his uncles ever visit him at the same time, so he feels annoyingly pulled in two different directions and just ends up feeling guilty whenever he chooses one over the other. Never mind that after all these years, he finally understands a little of his uncle’s complicated feelings for his once sworn brother and the bracelet he had left for Jin Ling. Or the fact that, according to the YunmengJiang disciples, his jiujiu has gone from raging at people who dare speak Wei Wuxian’s name to snapping at anyone who thinks they can speak ill without impunity. And yet, the man still can’t have a civil conversation with Uncle Wei without it resulting in a shouting match.

Looking at them, Jin Ling feels a bone-deep longing to set right to what little family he has left. (He also wants equally as much to throttle both of their heads against the wall.)

“Ugh,” he groans, sitting back up and sliding his bowl of rice towards him. “Fine. But if they do try to kill each other tonight, you all better help me.”

The plan for their night hunt had started out so simple–a brief patrol through the eastern forests of Yunmeng to test out Jin Ling’s bracelet. Wei Wuxian has spent the better part of the past several weeks adding adjustments to it, struck by a burst of creative inspiration and spurred on by the necessity to keep Jin Ling safe as he settles into his role as the face of a sect that’s still awashed with scandal and many people looking at him to fail.

The concern thrums a warmth through Jin Ling’s chest that’s different than what he feels with his jiujiu. He has always been able to count on Jiang Cheng’s thunderous temper to shield him from anyone and anything that might harm him. Wei Wuxian, too, is unquestioningly overprotective and easily as exasperating as Jiang Cheng, but there’s also something sweeter, something softer, in the way he showers Jin Ling with constant teasing affection. He still isn’t used to it, but he can’t say he really minds that this is his family now.

He had briefly entertained the hope that he might be able to enjoy what would be an easy night hunt with his friends without his jiujiu interfering. But for some unknown reason, Jiang Cheng has been attaching himself to every night hunt Jin Ling has gone on where Wei Wuxian was supervising, regardless of how many times Jin Ling has tried to tell him he doesn’t need the extra supervision. This time is no different. (“Just because Wei Wuxian doesn’t have any sense of respect doesn’t mean you can just forget about rules and propriety, brat! Is this how a sect leader acts?!” “Jiujiu.”)

Both Jingyi and Zizhen stare at him with wary looks before going back to scarfing down their meals as if he hadn’t spoken. Sizhui smiles at him reassuringly though, so at least Jin Ling will have him as support tonight even if the other two abandon him like cowards.

Unsurprisingly, it all turns into an absolute disaster.

Jin Ling finds himself saddled with both his uncles right from the start after a suggestion to split the group off with one elder each is viciously slammed down by Jiang Cheng refusing to let Jin Ling go with Wei Wuxian.

“I am not letting you experiment on my nephew alone!” Jiang Cheng had snarled.

An extremely irritated look had flashed across Wei Wuxian’s face, and all the juniors had collectively held their breaths (the cold rage Wei Wuxian had unleashed onto Sect Leader Yao two months ago when the man had willfully omitted several important facts in his report to the Chief Cultivator regarding a haunting along the northern border of Meishan, namely that a collecting mass of resentful energy had risen to such severely threatening levels so as to cause a number of fatalities in the nearby villages, and got Sizhui gravely injured during an initial patrol, was still too fresh on their minds for them to believe that their beloved senior wasn’t just as prone to exploding as Jiang Cheng), but then Wei Wuxian had turned away and nodded with tense acquiescence. By then, Jin Ling already had a headache.

Predictably, Jingyi and Zizhen run away, taking Sizhui with them, who had looked back at him with an apologetic unsurety, leaving Jin Ling woefully resigned to patrolling their designated side alone with his two exasperating uncles.

Thirty minutes later, nobody has said a word, the only thing interrupting the tense silence is the sound of the leaves crunching underneath their feet as they walk. Wei Wuxian twirls his flute. Jiang Cheng glares at the trees. Jin Ling tries not to fling them both off the mountain.

Finally fed up, Jin Ling tries to speed ahead, but before he can even take a few steps, two voices call from behind him.

“Where do you think you’re going, brat?”

“Jin Ling, don’t run off.”

He turns around to see Jiang Cheng scowling at Wei Wuxian, who is suddenly finding the trees exceptionally interesting. “Are you both going to do this all night?” Jin Ling asks with a decidedly unimpressed glare as he crosses his arms. Jiang Cheng turns his scowl onto him, his mouth already opening to shout at him for his tone, but Wei Wuxian interrupts with a bright laugh.

“Hah?” Wei Wuxian says, advancing on him and brandishing his flute. Jin Ling’s lips twitch despite himself. “You’re getting quite mouthy these days, Jin-zongzhu. Just because you’re a sect leader now doesn’t mean I won’t plant you in the ground like a–” He cuts off abruptly, head whipping to his left as the hilarity fades immediately from his face. Jin Ling tenses, already half-unsheathing Suihua, but nothing happens, just the same rustle of trees above their heads as the evening breeze flows through Yunmeng.

“Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asks tightly, almost like an accusation, his face contorting into a mix of irritation and something a lot like worry.

Wei Wuxian startles as if shaken and turns back towards them. His brows furrow. “It’s… nothing. I thought I…” His shakes his head, looking strangely disoriented. It sends an uneasy feeling shooting up Jin Ling’s spine. He’s never seen Wei Wuxian, so normally brimming with bright humor and nonchalance (other than when he’s raining fire down on Sect Leader Yao’s head), look this rattled.

If possible, the tense line to Jiang Cheng’s shoulders stiffens even more. “What’s wrong with you?” he demands sharply.

“Da-jiujiu?” Jin Ling says frowning.

The address seems to pull Wei Wuxian out of his daze, something close to a normal smile spreading across his face. “Ai-ya, why are you both looking like that?” he says as he throws an arm around Jin Ling’s shoulders. “It’s nothing. Come on, let’s keep going.”

They fall back into step again, but the furrow doesn’t quite leave Wei Wuxian’s face. Jiang Cheng is pretending not to notice, but Jin Ling sees his uncle sending narrowed glances out from the corner of his eyes. As usual, Wei Wuxian teases Jin Ling until the tension bleeds right out of him in favor of annoyance over his childish uncle. Rolling his eyes, he huffs and speeds ahead again, keeping his ears trained behind him in case they try to kill each other.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wei Wuxian is murmuring, exasperated.

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “You’re the one who froze like a headless chicken back there,” he snaps back irritably, but Jin Ling hears the gruff undercurrent of concern.

Wei Wuxian seems to hear it, too, because he says, in a tone that sounds like he’s rolling his eyes, “Jiang Cheng, stop worrying. I just thought I felt something.”

“I’m not–”

So engrossed is he in the conversation that if it hadn’t been for the sudden and grotesquely familiar smell, Jin Ling would have missed the loud rustling to his left. As it was, he only very narrowly manages to jump back in time before a fierce corpse leaps through the trees and lands exactly where he had been standing.

“Jin Ling!” shout both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

Spinning away, Jin Ling unsheathes Suihua, his heart slamming into his chest as he faces the violent rotting corpse. Only the creature doesn’t move, head cocking in what appears to be confusion, its soulless eyes looking right through Jin Ling, almost as if it can’t see him at all. On his wrist, his bracelet warms.

“It worked,” Wei Wuxian says with a pleased sound as Jiang Cheng rushes forward and tugs Jin Ling behind them. The momentary victory is short-lived, however, as the low growls of an incoming onslaught of fierce corpses reaches all their ears. They flood into the clearing, joining their companion, numbering nearly as many as the wave that had attacked them at Burial Mounds over half a year ago, until they are all at once surrounded.

“You want to try telling me again how I shouldn’t worry?” Jiang Cheng growls through gritted teeth as both Zidian and Sandu flare to life in his hands.

Wei Wuxian somehow still has enough defiance in him to roll his eyes, Chenqing flipping easily in his hands as he raises it to his lips. He turns his head. “Jin Ling, stay back,” he orders.

Jin Ling bristles at the command, but the sharp look Jiang Cheng sends his way makes the retort die quickly in his throat. Scowling, he leaps into a nearby tree, crouching low on a branch and watching as his uncles move to stand back to back. Without Jin Ling’s bracelet as distraction, the fierce corpses seem to refocus on the two cultivators in front of them, snarling in anticipation of satisfying their bloodlust. He has no idea why the hell so many are hanging around what should be a relatively benign forest in Yunmeng. He hopes with an uneasy feeling that his friends are okay.

The first notes of a dizi fill the cold open air, sending an involuntary shiver up Jin Ling’s spine, as Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and pulls a high-pitched luring melody from his blackened bone flute with practiced perfection. A fierce corpse leaps from the crowd. Like a thunderclap, Zidian whips out and smashes it backwards into a tree, scattering loose leaves all around them as the battle begins.

Jin Ling watches with startled amazement.

He has seen Wei Wuxian battle with Hanguang-jun at his side, standing still, completely trusting, while the other man dances, wielding his blade with deadly precision. He has seen Jiang Cheng battle alone, a furious flurry of chaotic movements and the constant manic whip of lightning.

But this– this is different.

Wei Wuxian is a blur of ink, weaving seamlessly around Jiang Cheng’s swift attacks, as the fierce corpses disintegrate under the sharpness of Sandu’s blade, the electricity of Zidian’s purple lightning, and the black blur of spirits being called to battle by the master who commands them. Their movements are graceful and synchronized in a way Jin Ling has never witnessed, as if they are each an arm to one single soul. He’s suddenly and very keenly aware that this must be how they had each learnt to fight. Not alone, but together, standing back to back, as brothers–partners–the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng.

The fierce corpses are rapidly dispersed under their combined efforts, and the surroundings fall again into an eerie silence as both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng survey the area for several more tense minutes.

Jin Ling drops back down to the ground, rushing over to them. His eyes frantically roam over each of them for injuries and frowns unhappily at the gash on Jiang Cheng’s arm. “Jiujiu! You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng says gruffly, placing a reassuring hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder.

“We should find the other kids,” Wei Wuxian says with a worried set to his lips.

Jiang Cheng jerks his head in agreement as he sheathes Sandu. He lets Jin Ling fret over the gash even as he rests a hand on Jin Ling’s head, repeating, “I’m fine, A-Ling.”

Distracted, neither of them senses the movement on their right until it’s too late. With a sudden furious roar, a lone fierce corpse soars from the shadows straight at them. It’s too close, moving too quickly–Jiang Cheng turns, instinctively shielding Jin Ling before he can even register what’s happening, but someone bodily shoves them both aside, sending Jin Ling crashing into the floor. The impact knocks the breath right out of him, and his head spins from the vertigo that follows. Above him, the familiar static whip of Zidian sounds, making the hair on the back of his neck stand, quickly followed by a sickening crunch some distance away, and then–a sharp, strangled gasp.

Jin Ling looks up and freezes.

There is blood sliding down from Wei Wuxian’s mouth as he sways unsteadily on his feet, blinking slowly. His hand comes up to his abdomen where the outer layer of his robes are rapidly darkening around a gaping wound.

Jin Ling’s heart stutters to a stop.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, completely nonsensically, looking down at the blood on his hand in confusion. “Oh,” he says again, staggering backwards, his legs giving out underneath him. Jiang Cheng barely manages to catch him, sending them both collapsing to the ground.

Scrambling up, Jin Ling half-walks, half-crawls to his uncles, almost falling on top of them in his haste as a sharp unbridled fear spikes through his chest. No, he thinks desperately. You can’t take him, too.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!” Jiang Cheng is shouting repeatedly. He looks more scared than Jin Ling has ever seen him, his eyes wide, all the color drained from his face as shaking hands come up to apply pressure over the wound. “What were you fucking thinking?!”

“Heh,” Wei Wuxian laughs, absurdly, through a mouthful of blood. “I guess I should make you a bracelet, too, eh Jiang Cheng?”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng roars angrily. His hands, still shaking, start to glow with chaotic bursts of purple qi. “What is a bracelet going to do when you’re such a fucking idiot?!”

Wei Wuxian coughs, wincing. “Hey, it protected Jin Ling, didn’t it?” he says, turning his eyes towards Jin Ling’s quickly watering ones. “Don’t cry, A-Ling. Your da-jiujiu is fine.”

Jin Ling glares at him through furious tears. “You’re not! Don’t lie!”

“I’m not lying,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching over and giving Jin Ling’s trembling hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. Jin Ling clutches it, feeling a heavy despair welling up in him as Wei Wuxian continues to pale despite Jiang Cheng flooding the wound with spiritual energy. Short labored breaths are falling from blue lips, and panic seizes Jin Ling’s chest as his uncle’s eyes start to droop.

“Da-jiujiu!” Jin Ling cries, frantically tugging on his arm.

Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and shakes him roughly. “Stay awake!”

Jin Ling doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Wei Wuxian blinks his eyes back open, and it flows out of him like choking relief.

“I’m not going to die, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says tiredly. Jiang Cheng flinches violently, and Wei Wuxian frowns. “A-Cheng…”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng snarls, his voice cracking. He’s trembling and glaring at his hands that are covered in Wei Wuxian’s blood. The purple glow of his spiritual energy illuminates his face, looking angrier and more lost than he had seven months ago, screaming at Wei Wuxian about his golden core. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispers. “What the fuck were you thinking? Going night hunting when all you ever do is attract trouble wherever you go.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian protests. “You’re the one who keeps coming along.”

“Of course I come, you idiot!” Jiang Cheng shouts at him, a sharp hysterical edge cutting through his every word. “When have I ever not come? When have I ever not fucking come?!”

The silence that follows is deafening. Jin Ling stares at them, wide-eyed, as Jiang Cheng heaves harsh broken breaths, and an unreadable expression passes over Wei Wuxian’s pale face. For a long, long moment, the brothers just stare at one another.

“Idiot,” Wei Wuxian finally murmurs. His tone is fond as his lips curve into a soft smile. Jiang Cheng’s face contorts with a miserable frown, and Jin Ling feels suddenly like he’s missed something terribly important.

Confusingly, Wei Wuxian reaches up with an unsteady hand and tugs a strand loose from the top of Jiang Cheng’s ever-present half-bun until it falls over his face, lips quirking at his brother’s wide startled gaze. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, you idiot?” he says, his voice slurring.

He brushes gentle fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair, and Jiang Cheng’s face visibly crumples.

“You might be the world’s Sandu Shengshou,” Wei Wuxian’s breath rattles as he speaks, growing ragged, “but you’ll always be my didi.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall shut, and his hand slides from Jiang Cheng’s hair, landing heavily on the ground. It echoes through Jin Ling’s head, louder than anything he has ever heard. He shakes, cold shock flooding his chest as his once so lively da-jiujiu goes deathly, terrifyingly, still. His uncle lets out a strangled noise, and it feels like a scream.

“Wei Wuxian!”

Jin Ling has only ever seen his uncle cry once, at Guanyin Temple, because of Wei Wuxian.

The second time is still because of Wei Wuxian.

“We’re all going to die,” Lan Jingyi says after four days, and Wei Wuxian still has not woken up.

Jin Ling is inclined to agree with him and would have said so if he doesn’t still feel a little bit like throwing up. They are sitting by the water in the inner pavilions of Lotus Pier, hovering close to Wei Wuxian’s rooms like they’ve been doing ever since that disastrous night hunt.

Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen had arrived not long after Wei Wuxian had passed out. Somehow, they had managed to get him back to Lotus Pier in one piece. Mostly, Jin Ling thinks, because his jiujiu had been as close to hysterical as he had ever seen him, even during the mess with Jin Guangyao, and had singlehandedly carried Wei Wuxian back on Sandu. Sizhui had immediately sent word to Hanguang-jun, who had arrived before dawn broke, looking windswept and so overcome with worry that even Jin Ling could see it plainly displayed on the Chief Cultivator’s normally expressionless face.

Since then, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji have sat by Wei Wuxian’s bedside in complete silence, both refusing to leave. If Jin Ling had thought the relationship between his uncle and Hanguang-jun had been strained before, then it was nothing compared to the tension radiating off both of them now, growing sharper and icier with each day that passes while Wei Wuxian remains unconscious.

Under better circumstances, Jin Ling would have crowed at the opportunity to finally see inside the Forbidden Room of Lotus Pier, his uncle having boarded up Wei Wuxian’s old room for the past sixteen years with strict orders forbidding anyone from entering or face his merciless wrath.

But right now, Jin Ling just feels ill.

“Wei-qianbei will be okay, Jin Ling,” Sizhui tells him, not for the first time, correctly interpreting his silence. Jin Ling nods, plucking miserably at the lotus pod in his hand.

Sizhui has been faring remarkably better than him despite how close he knows Sizhui is to his Xian-gege, spending a lot of time in the kitchens cooking up meals that he and Jin Ling both force Hanguang-jun and Jiang Cheng to eat. The cooking seems to give Sizhui something to do with his hands in the same way Jin Ling has been anxiously plucking lotus pods. At this rate, no lotuses are going to bloom in this portion of the lake come next autumn.

Zizhen throws an arm around Jin Ling’s slumped shoulders then and coaxes him into a game of Go. Halfway through their second game while Jin Ling is bickering with Jingyi over his stone placement, the brisk almost-run of YunmengJiang’s senior physician and her two attendants towards Wei Wuxian’s rooms have them all abandoning the game and sprinting off the pier after them.

Jin Ling bursts through the door, his friends quick on his heels, barely managing to skid to a stop before he crashes into one of the many disciples who are standing in the back. (It has occurred to him over the past few days just how truly well-loved Wei Wuxian still is amongst the survivors from the burning of Lotus Pier who remember their da-shixiong, especially now that catching Jiang Cheng’s displeasure is no longer exactly a consequence.)

“Lan Zhan…”

Wei Wuxian’s voice is clear even from the back of the room, and the sheer relief that floods through Jin Ling at hearing it almost sends him to his knees.

Jin Ling squeezes through the throng of people until he reaches the bed. Wei Wuxian has been shifted and is now lying on Hanguang-jun’s lap, looking pale, his eyes still closed, but awake. Hanguang-jun has his arms around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, murmuring quietly, “Wei Ying, I’m here.” Beside them, Jiang Cheng is hovering, shoulders and back tense, while the sect physician performs a series of checks.

“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian says.

Jiang Cheng stiffens, and it visibly takes his uncle several moments to work the words out of his throat. “I’m–right here,” he grits out. “Idiot,” he adds.

There’s a flat line to Lan Wangji’s mouth, but a smile blooms across Wei Wuxian’s lips, and he lets out a short huff of laughter. “The kids?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“We’re fine,” Jin Ling says quickly, a little too loudly, and he flushes lightly in embarrassment when Hanguang-jun glances at him.

“Xian-gege, everyone’s safe. You don’t need to worry,” Sizhui adds, quieter than Jin Ling, but the relief in his voice is palpable. Jingyi’s and Zizhen’s loud clamoring additions behind them widen the smile on Wei Wuxian’s face, and he finally blinks his eyes slowly open to look at them. Jin Ling has never been so glad in his life to see the familiar teasing amusement in those grey eyes.

“Brats,” Wei Wuxian murmurs fondly.

The sect physician finishes and turns to bow to Jiang Cheng and Hanguang-jun. “Your Excellency, zongzhu, Wei-gongzi is recovering adequately, but he won’t be well enough to travel for some time. I recommend he rest for at least a week or more.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head, turning his attention back to Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng exchanges a few quiet words with her that Jin Ling doesn’t catch before she bows and leaves the room. A sweeping look from his uncle scatters the rest of the mingling disciples from the room, leaving only the three adults and the juniors. Wei Wuxian is in the process of pulling himself up into a seated position with Hanguang-jun’s help when Jiang Cheng comes back to stand beside Jin Ling.

“Xian-gege,” Sizhui says with a concerned frown when Wei Wuxian winces even with Hanguang-jun supporting him from behind. “You shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine, A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian reassures despite sounding winded. He rests his hand on the crown of Sizhui’s head and smiles. “I’ll be up running with you all again in no time, you’ll see.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenches tightly, and Jin Ling glances at him warily–he can practically hear his uncle’s teeth grinding. Being in a coma for four days apparently hasn’t taken away Wei Wuxian’s ability to know when Jiang Cheng is annoyed either because he turns to look at his brother. Jiang Cheng’s face is a stony canvas of too many emotions, wound up tighter now than even these last few days of waiting for Wei Wuxian to wake up. The tension is suddenly so thick it could be cut with a sword.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling tries weakly.

Several things happen then at once. Swift and sudden as the crack of lightning, Jiang Cheng is swinging his arm forward. Startled, Wei Wuxian moves backwards as Jin Ling gasps and reflexively grabs his uncle’s other arm to try and tug him away. Faster than any of them, Hanguang-jun’s hand shoots out and closes around Jiang Cheng’s fist, stopping the movement instantly.

The ensuing silence reverberates so loudly against the walls that Jin Ling’s ears ring. For a moment, no one dares to breathe.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says coldly, his voice sending warning bells through everyone’s heads. Jiang Cheng looks at him, and the temperature in the room cools several thousand degrees as the two men glare at each other.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling protests, tugging at his uncle’s arm. (How is he back this already?) Nobody moves.

Finally, Wei Wuxian reaches up and grabs Jiang Cheng’s wrist. “Lan Zhan, let go,” he says. Hanguang-jun turns to look at him, and even though his expression doesn’t change, his incredulity is clear. Wei Wuxian smiles, and not for the first time, Jin Ling feels like they’ve had a thousand conversations without saying a single word. “Lan Zhan,” he says again.

Slowly, Lan Wangji releases Jiang Cheng’s hand but fixes the man with a frosty stare, looking poised and ready to strike. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, just tugs lightly at his brother’s wrist.

“A-Cheng,” he whines, his face taking on an absurdly deliberate pout even in the face of Jiang Cheng’s temper. Jin Ling would have been impressed if his heart wasn’t trying to slam out of his ribcage. “How can you try to hit me so soon after I wake up?”

“You deserve it,” Jiang Cheng says viciously, but there’s very little heat to his words. He hasn’t even bothered to pull away. His uncle looks angry and lost again, like he had back in the forest with Wei Wuxian bleeding under his hands because he had stepped in front of a fierce corpse to save them both. His uncle had screamed, had cried, had carried Wei Wuxian home and held vigil by his bedside for days.

Maybe that’s why Wei Wuxian waits now, patiently refusing to let his brother go. “I know,” he says softly, his lips curving into a gentle, knowing smile.

All at once, Jiang Cheng deflates, crumbling like a puppet losing its strings. Jin Ling watches with wide eyes as his uncle folds himself onto the bed and wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in a crushing hug, curling himself tightly into his brother’s shoulder. A tender, watery smile blooms over Wei Wuxian’s face as his arms come up around his brother.

“Idiot,” Wei Wuxian says, and it’s fond again. “Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to die?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng mutters, voice muffled. He’s shaking, just a little. “You’re the idiot.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, soft and warm. “It’s okay, didi,” he murmurs. “I’m here now.”

Jin Ling is rapidly trying to blink away the stinging in his eyes, aware that he looks ridiculous with his mouth threatening to split open with the force of his smile. But his chest feels so warm that he thinks it might burst from the strength of his joy.

Their next meal together is at Lotus Pier. (His drapings have been drenched with enough flung soup, thank you very much.) Wei Wuxian brings Sizhui along, and thankfully, not Hanguang-jun.

His uncles still bicker the entire time, but their traded barbs have become more teasing over the past few months than terse. There’s a relaxed line to Jiang Cheng’s shoulders now, who appears so much less wound up like he could snap at any moment, and his heart throbs with happiness to see his jiujiu so carefree.

Jin Ling asks his uncles cheekily if they’re ever going to shut up and eat and has to hide his smile when they both turn their threats onto him instead. He snickers with a giggling Sizhui as Wei Wuxian dramatically promises to plant them both on the ground like radishes. Beside him, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

A loose strand of hair frames the right side of his uncle’s face. On his left wrist sits a bracelet.

Fin.

---

Bonus Scene:

It isn’t the first time he’s had his brother’s blood on his hands, and certainly not the first time he’s seen him bleed.

As children, his mother had worked them and the other disciples down to their bones, hours and hours of intense training that left their hands calloused and bleeding. Their friendly competitive sparring matches as they grew older always drew blood from the minor nicks they inflicted on one another (his brother never did injure him for real, until that last time). When the war fell upon their heads, the cuts and gashes turned commonplace, both of them taking turns dressing each other’s wounds after each battle so their sister wouldn’t have to see. Later, after he stabbed his brother on a mountain, he had cleaned the blood off his sword while trying not to vomit.

This shouldn’t have affected him.

But Jiang Cheng wakes up for the sixth night in a row to the darkness of his room, drenched in a cold sweat, an unbearable sensation of slick warm fluid on his hands and the bitter smell of copper in his nose. He swallows and looks down. His hands are clean, dry and still reddened from the number of times he’s scrubbed them raw since carrying his unconscious brother back to Lotus Pier. (Wei Wuxian dying in his arms is not how he had imagined his brother’s next visit to Lotus Pier would go, if Jiang Cheng could ever manage to shove aside his old bitterness to allow it to happen.)

A restless anxiety courses through his entire body, unable to shake off the feeling of stickiness on his hands even when he can see that they’re clean. He throws the covers off himself and puts on his slippers, escaping his room before the haunted shadows swallow him whole. Before Jiang Cheng even realizes which direction his feet are taking him, he’s standing in front of his brother’s room, and some of that old anger flares up into his chest.

He hates that he still loves him, as much as he’s always had. He hates that he still needs him, still yearns for his brother’s companionship, even after everything. He hates that his brother had thrown himself in front of Jiang Cheng for the millionth time, as if he hasn’t already accumulated enough debt between them that he can never hope to pay back, the last sacrifice still burning sharply in his lower abdomen.

He hates, most of all, that having his brother at Lotus Pier for the past week has loosened the tightly wound coil in his chest, blowing open the doors of his heart with bursts of sunlight that warms him all the way to his fingertips, in a way he hasn’t felt since the day he lost him.

It’s okay, didi. I’m here now.

He enters the room quietly, thankful that Hanguang-jun had been pulled away by duties and had to return to Gusu for the next few days while Wei Wuxian continues to convalesce at Lotus Pier. Without that man’s constant aggravating presence, Jiang Cheng feels less like he’s standing on the chopping block in his own damn home.

His brother is fast asleep, curled over on his side. The color has returned to his face, and the healthy flush eases some of the tightness in his chest. Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he will ever forget the way his brother had looked, laying blue and still on the forest ground, nor the cold terror that washed over him at the thought that he had lost his brother again after he had just gotten him back.

(He wonders what he would have done if he had really discovered his brother underneath that fiery mountain all those years ago–if he’d been faced with the indisputable reality that his brother was truly gone, would he have just disintegrated where he stood. Sometimes, he thinks the hope, the certainty of seeing Wei Wuxian again was the only reason why he survived.)

Jiang Cheng stands watching his brother sleep for a long time. He’s seen him now, he tries to tell himself. His brother is fine. He should turn around and go back to his room. He’s not a child anymore, seeking comfort from his siblings after a nightmare. He’s a sect leader. He’s been alone with the world on his shoulders for decades. He really, really shouldn’t need this.

But the thought of returning to his cold room, haunted by the phantom smells of blood and the echoes of his brother’s rattling breaths, keeps his feet stubbornly rooted in place.

He feels like a wound that’s never healed, smarting at every turn, every prod, every instance of his brother’s sunlit grin. He’s angry, exhausted, so weary that he can barely hold himself up from under the weight of all the years of mistakes and regret, but mostly, he misses his brother so much he could choke.

Go on then, A-Cheng.

His sister’s voice is sweet and encouraging, so familiar and clear that it drags a sharp stuttering ache across his heart. She’s always been able to unwind his stubbornness, his inability to just do what he wants without thinking of a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t, and it finally, finally pushes him forward now.

Wei Wuxian wakes as Jiang Cheng crawls underneath the covers. His brother doesn’t speak or ask any questions, shifting aside and letting Jiang Cheng curl himself against his brother like he hasn’t done since they were both twelve and afraid of thunderstorms. He trembles, only a little bit, when his brother’s arms come around and hold him close.

His brother’s heartbeat is a reassuring sound against his ear, a surety that he is wholly and invariably alive, returned to the world, to Jiang Cheng’s life against all possible odds–a second chance that Jiang Cheng probably doesn’t deserve but has been given anyway. It soothes away some of that old anger and settles the last of the anxiety fluttering through his veins. Slowly, he’s lulled into sleep by the steady sound of his brother’s quiet breathing.

Jiang Cheng dreams of lotus blooms and smiles.

---

Final Notes:

1. Title is lyrics from Imagine Dragons’ Whatever It Takes.

2. So there's probably like established xianxia/wuxia rules about what magical spirit/demon/ghoul-repelling beads actually do and how they are made, but I couldn't for the life of me find any credible sources, SO I just made it up. Yolo. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. I don’t know how well I executed what I wanted to do here, but I love (2) idiots, and I will die on this hill. Did I screw up everyone’s characterizations? Highly probable.

4. I really love Jiang Cheng’s one-sided bang in CQL. (CAN WE JUST BASK IN WZC’S BEAUTIFUL FACE?) It's an immense travesty that he stops wearing it when he decides he needs be an adult™. But Wei Wuxian secretly misses it, and I wanted to play with that symbolism of change a little.

5. Thanks to @winepresswrath for dealing with my incessant rambling and for the genius idea of the “Forbidden Room” of Lotus Pier. Lmao.

6. I know this was meant to be a Jin Ling perspective fic, but I couldn’t help writing the bonus scene and had to stop myself from turning it into a Jiang Cheng version of this, because I already have too many WIPs that I will never finish. (Dammit plot bunnies, leave me alone!)

7. Please feel free to come scream with me about cql/mdzs and yunmeng shuangjie on my personal tumblr. :D

8. Thank you so much for reading!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎ Stay healthy and well!!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #mdzs #yunmeng shuangjie #!fic #!fandom: mdzs #!brotp: twin idiots #*

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tokiro07 · 3 years

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I think I may have talked about this before, but I really hope that DBS: Broly sets a precedent for canonizing older, non-canon characters and plotpoints

That being said, I realized today that I don’t really want every single Dragon Ball movie to be rehashed into excuses for Goku to get stronger ad infinitum

Instead I think it would be cool if they were rehashed to be excuses for EVERYONE ELSE to get stronger!

It’s basically gotten to the point where Goku is incomparable to basically everyone else anyway, so when the “final” Dragon Ball villain finally shows up in the next X number of years, I think it would be good for the rest of the cast to be a bit more balanced with him. Sure, we know he’d still be the last one standing and would probably get another power-up to shoot ahead as always, but it would be a lot more engaging if the rest of the cast was at least able to put up a real fight. I don’t imagine they’d each be getting a movie, but I don’t want them to have super short OVAs either, so I think somewhere between 5 and 10 episodes each would do really well

So let’s say we bring back Dr. Wheelo from World’s Strongest; while it might be cool to get more scenes with Roshi, I don’t think we quite need the whole “stealing Roshi’s body” plotline anymore. Instead, we could use it as an excuse to bring back Android 13 using Dr. Wheelo as the impetus. From there, this plotline follows Krillin, 18 and 17 on a family trip, wherein we get to meet 17′s wife and children. Wheelo shows up with 13, maybe 14 and 15 too, trying to get 17 and 18 so he can use them to upgrade either his own robot body or further upgrade 13. After the group dispatches with 14 and 15, Wheelo has 13 upgrade himself into Super Android 13 with their cores like in the film; this necessitates that 17 and 18 get stronger by also finding a way to become Super Androids, which also ties in and canonizes certain aspects of the Super 17 Arc from GT. At the same time, Krillin is also finding a way to upgrade himself, leaving him to beat Wheelo while Super 17 and 18 beat Super 13

Lord Slug gets repurposed as specifically a Piccolo villain and showcases a new Namekian transformation, perhaps the armored form seen in Dragon Ball Heroes; in order for Piccolo to defeat Slug, he needs to also access this armored form. It’s been stated that in order for Piccolo to fully regain the power of the Nameless Namekian he would need to reabsorb King Piccolo and allow evil back into his heart. The need to attain the armored form may be what prompts him to bring back King Piccolo’s soul and absorb it, with the major character arc of the film being Piccolo confronting the villain he used to be and finally overcoming it once and for all. Garlic Jr. could also serve this same purpose, and I actually think it would be interesting for Garlic Jr. and Slug to somehow team up, but I also think it would be better if it were a bit more focused and only chose one.

Turles could be repurposed as a Universe 6 Saiyan, giving him an opportunity to be redesigned to look less like Goku so as not to overlap with Goku Black. Vegeta finally makes good on his promise to visit Planet Sadala and decides to bring his family with him so that Trunks can be closer to his heritage. Goten either sneaks aboard or Vegeta allows him to come with because he thinks it’s an opportunity he’d never get from Goku. After taking in the Saiyan culture and giving Vegeta some time to reflect on how things could or should have been for him and his race and family, the plot shifts to Turles betraying Sadala, possibly under Frost’s orders, and attempting to drain it with the Tree of Might. Because he’s draining the Saiyans and not Earthlings, he gets a massive powerup that far outstrips what he got in the original film, allowing him to easily dispatch with Cabba, Caulifla and Kale. This in turn requires either Vegeta fight him with the powers he’s currently learning from Beerus in the manga or Trunks and Goten gain a power up as Gotenks. I do think that Turles would be better served as a Vegeta villain specifically in this case, as while I think Goten and Trunks need more development, Vegeta definitely deserves to have a story where he’s the hero

Tapion and Hirudegarn could easily provide Trunks with the development that he’d otherwise be getting from Turles, repurposing the sibling relationship he developed with Tapion in Wrath of the Dragon to have a bit more of a lasting impact (actually forcing Trunks to be confronted with the choice of killing Tapion rather than just having Hirudegarn escape from Tapion’s body before Trunks does anything as just one example). This would not only build up Trunks’ character, but would give him a really easy powerup in the form of Tapion’s Brave Sword

Garlic Jr., if not a Piccolo villain, could then in turn be a Goten villain, as Garlic Jr. was previously always defeated by child Gohan. Goten could be confronted with Garlic Jr. while Trunks is busy with Hirudegarn, forcing Goten to fight without relying on fusion and ultimately finding his own way of fighting that’s distinct from Goku’s ever-evolving Super Saiyan forms and Gohan’s Potential Unleashed. This would also make it even more impactful when Goten and Trunks reunite into Gotenks later in a bigger final battle

Bojack would then return as Gohan’s villain, but this time Gohan would have Videl with him (who would also be given an opportunity to improve her skills), as well as a slightly older Pan who may exhibit the same kind of untapped strength as Gohan did at her age. Gohan would either find some way to surpass Potential Unleashed to defeat Bojack or would specifically be able to beat him because his family is there fighting with him. Perhaps something like “Bonds Unleashed,” wherein Gohan exceeds his potential through the power of his love for his family or something silly like that? It’d also be a good chance to revisit Bojack’s team and develop them a bit more, especially fan-favorite Zangya

Cooler could give us a chance to develop Frieza on his own a bit, allowing him to finally reach the Fifth Form and subsequently combine it with the Golden Form while also exploring the culture of Frieza’s species, or at least the dynamics within his family as galactic conquerors

Janemba doesn’t really have anyone in particular aside from Goku and Vegeta that he would make a ton of sense to be a villain for, but given how frequently Janemba is compared to Buu, I could see him being a way for Buu and Uub to team up, fully reintroducing Uub and giving us a way for Buu to level up, maybe somehow channeling his Super or Kid forms in a more constructive way

Baby of course would be a way to reintroduce Super Saiyan 4, but seeing as he’s a Tuffle Machine Mutant, I could definitely see him coming into conflict with Broly as a way to get Broly up to Legendary Super Saiyan 2 or beyond. That said, Broly’s probably going to be brought back long before they rehash Baby, I just think that would be really interesting, especially since Legendary Super Saiyan is such a similar concept to Super Saiyan 4 (going Super Saiyan while in a pseudo-Great Ape state as opposed to going Super Saiyan while actually in Great Ape). My main problem is that I’m not sure how SS4 can be introduced at this point since it might conflict with SSG and SSB, but that’s an issue for the writers. I also don’t think it’d necessarily be good to have Baby remove Vegeta from the plot by possessing him like in GT, so maybe Baby’s Saiyan body should be a Universe 6 Saiyan. Perhaps Cabba would be a good candidate, since he’s pretty clearly far weaker than Caulifla and Kale, so it might lead to some good development for him

Finally, the Shadow Dragons would be a good way to tie everyone back together, with each of them (barring Frieza, probably) taking on a different Shadow Dragon using what they’ve learned; since I couldn’t find a place for Tien or Yamcha, perhaps they can team up to beat any of the Shadow Dragons that the others don’t get to. I don’t think it would be good to end things on a repurposed villain, so of course Omega Shenron wouldn’t be the final Dragon Ball villain this time around, but perhaps this would be where Goku finalizes and masters whatever abilities he’ll be using against the true final villain

I don’t know if other people would like this as much as I would, I just think it’d be really cool to revisit all of these characters and concepts, tweak their designs a bit and also give the extended cast a way to powerup and get closer to Goku’s level. Probably won’t happen, but I’d personally love to see it

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #long post

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quicksilversquared · 5 years

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Scream to the Trees

Marinette is tired of pushing her emotions to the side all of the time. It's important not to get akumatized since she's Ladybug, but it's getting harder and harder to shove her feelings back in the closet and lock them away. It's only safe to let her emotions out when she's outside of Paris, but that's not possible- or is it?

After all, the Horse Miraculous exists.

(written post-Startrain and pre-Chat Blanc/finale, so not canon with those #whoops)

links in the reblog

Marinette was starting to struggle.

Most of the time, she liked being Ladybug. Sure, there were things that she could do without- having her life interrupted because of akuma attacks and having to scramble to make up work and try to explain to her parents and teachers and friends why she hadn't been where she was supposed to be was a huge pain for sure- but Marinette had to acknowledge that her life had improved since becoming Ladybug. She was more confident now, braver, more comfortable with herself and with grabbing opportunities as they came. Marinette had noticed herself becoming a lot more athletic since becoming Ladybug, too, and that was plenty appreciated, too.

But Ladybug came with a lot of responsibilities and a lot of pressure. There was the pressure to save the day during every akuma attack, ramped up even more when Chat Noir was taken out or was late to a battle. She had to be a superhero, and a public figure, and a role model. There were interviews and public events that she was expected to do, and it was important to seem put-together and on top of things at all times, not letting on any weaknesses. Ladybug had to not let on any personal information and do her best to debunk or mislead anyone who got too close to the truth. She had to not lose her temper during interviews- it didn't reflect well on her- and do her best to not upset anyone during the interviews. Civilians always expected her and Chat Noir to save them even when they completely failed to evacuate an area just because they wanted to see the akuma and the superheroes, even though both of them had mentioned multiple times during interviews that the continued presence of civilians was both distracting and dangerous.

And being Ladybug also meant that Marinette could not, under any circumstances, get akumatized.

Which- well, it didn't sound like getting akumatized would be pleasant, so it wasn't as though Marinette would want to get akumatized, even if she weren't Ladybug. The gap in akumatized people's memories, the guilt, the confusion- none of it sounded like fun. But people got akumatized because they had been able to react to something. They were allowed to feel upset, to feel mad, to feel betrayed or embarrassed or disappointed. Sure, it would be better to be able to feel without being turned into a raging monster- and most of the time people could, Hawkmoth didn't go for every upset person in Paris- but Marinette couldn't risk it herself. She had to push her emotions down, lock them away, and keep going, as though everything was just fine, even when it wasn't.

Forcing her emotions away was starting to get really, really old. It was also getting harder and harder to do with every passing day, and there had been some close calls recently. Some really close calls. And they had been justified, but she was Ladybug, and unlike everyone else in the city, Ladybug could not get herself akumatized without dire consequences.

So naturally, Marinette sought out Master Fu for advice, taking the trek across the city to his new apartment.

"I see," Master Fu murmured thoughtfully once Marinette had told him everything, doing her best to battle down her frustration as she recounted the number of times that she had had to force her emotions away so that she wouldn't be a potential target for akumatization. "Controlling one's emotions is an important skill and one that some people could certainly stand to improve on, but emotions are human and it is not healthy to never allow yourself to feel. Bottling it all up will only result in explosive results later, but while you're in the city, it would be too dangerous to let yourself give in to emotion."

Marinette nodded, pushing down her frustration even more. She knew this already and while it was nice to get reassured that getting upset wasn't a character fault and it wasn't a good idea to always be repressing, she wanted ideas.

Support was helpful, but she needed a solution.

"So what should I do, take a train out of Paris every time I get really upset about something so I can yell at some trees?" Marinette asked despite herself, the sarcastic edge slipping in despite herself. "That doesn't seem very practical."

Thankfully, Master Fu didn't appear upset, instead giving her a small smile. "No, not very. But you have just given me an idea." Pushing himself to his feet, Master Fu headed over to his gramophone and opened it, pulling out the Miraculous Box. "I would recommend a multipronged approached, actually. First of all, identify the source of discontent and address it so that it cannot continue to cause you harm. What about the situation is upsetting you? Otherwise, all other solutions will only help momentarily."

Marinette nodded, but she couldn't help but be a bit doubtful about that. She had been trying to address the whole Lila problem, but it hadn't done anything but backfire on her. No one would listen to her when she called out the really obvious discrepancies in Lila's stories, Alya only called her jealous, and Lila upped her (not-very-subtle) assault on Marinette's character. And sitting back- well, at this point it wasn't really an option, because Lila was the kind of person to take advantage of any opening or weakness and run with it.

"I recognize that that can be hard and in the heat of the moment, it can be almost impossible to come up with a solution," Master Fu continued. He lifted up the box and carried it over to Marinette, setting it down on the floor before sitting back down on his pillow and pressing the buttons to open the Miraculous Box. "So I would like to propose an idea that incorporates your suggestion. Perhaps taking a train wouldn't be practical, given the amount of time that it would take for you to get safely out of Hawkmoth's range, but something a bit more instantaneous might be more fitting."

Marinette gasped in realization as her mentor reached for one particular drawer. "The Horse Miraculous! Of course! I can just make a portal out to the countryside to vent, then come back when it's safe. But..." She frowned, determined to not let herself get carried away too soon. "I would still have to get away from wherever I was and come over here, and I don't know how practical that would be, either."

Master Fu smiled at her, removing the Horse Miraculous from its drawer. "You misunderstand me, Marinette. I have let you borrow the Horse before in case you needed it, and I am letting you borrow it again. All you will need to do is find a private place in which you can use Voyage and know where you want to go. That, and ensure that you have enough food to recharge Kaalki prior to vanishing off to the countryside. It would not do for Ladybug to get stuck in the countryside, several hours away from Paris."

Marinette let herself feel the first tendrils of hope. With that new information... "This could help during battles, too! I always worry about Hawkmoth trying to track me back to your apartment when I have to come get more Miraculous, but if I have Kaalki- I can just make a portal and hop through!"

Her mentor looked impressed. "I had not thought of that, but you are most correct! Having you holding on to the Horse will be exceedingly helpful in a variety of ways, then."

"I'll just have to be really, really careful with my bag now," Marinette added, a small frown flashing across her face. "I've had a lock on it ever since Lila decided to plant an answer key for a test in it- same with my locker- but I don't want to accidentally leave my bag open one day and have her try to steal the Miraculous." The thought of Lila with a Miraculous, and in particular one that would give her unhindered access to any locations she could think of, was terrifying. "Maybe a combination box would work, so I don't have to carry a key."

"It is unfortunate that your classroom isn't secure enough for the Miraculous to be fine in your bag, but perhaps the extra security measures are for the better," Master Fu agreed. "You don't want anyone to see the Miraculous box by accident and put two and two together. And it would be easier than ever for someone to do, with the Ladyblogger's post about the Miraculous crest."

Marinette winced at that. Somehow- even though Alya had managed to make the connection between the designs on a variety of different historical objects, even though Alya prided herself on being super up-to-date on all things Miraculous- Alya had not managed to figure out the connection between her Ladyblog post exposé and the akumatized sentimonster that had appeared less than 24 hours later, destroying the rock sculpture that had only just appeared at the Louvre.

Or maybe she had figured out the connection and had just refrained from telling Marinette, considering how much pushback she had gotten from Marinette about the whole trying to figure out Ladybug's identity thing.

(Marinette didn't believe for a second that Alya had actually stopped trying to figure Ladybug's identity out. Maybe she wasn't being as public about it anymore, but Alya was definitely still super-curious and not so easily dissuaded. Next time Rena Rouge came out, Ladybug was going to have to drop some seriously misleading "accidental clues" about her identity.)

"I do not blame you," Master Fu assured Marinette. He pressed the box with the Horse Miraculous in it into Marinette's hand. "Keep it safe, but do not be afraid to use it whenever you feel the need. You need to be able to get your feelings out- to actually be able to express your feelings when you become upset- and this should help. And Tikki, make sure that Marinette actually uses the Miraculous," Master Fu added to her kwami. "We want to encourage healthy expression of emotions, we just want to ensure that it's done safely."

Tikki nodded, ducking her head. "Of course, Master Fu."

"Come to me if you need anything more," Master Fu told Marinette as she tucked the Miraculous carefully away in her bag, locking it after the box was safely inside. "And one more thing- be sure to have your Akuma Alerts on whenever you leave the city. Tikki may be able to provide you with something for your cell phone so that no matter where you go, you'll still be able to get service."

"Of course, Master."

"Good." Master Fu smiled at her. "I hope it helps, Marinette."

"I'm sure it will," Marinette assured him. She was already feeling more relaxed, knowing that she could leave the city for a bit instead of having to repress her emotions all the time. "Thank you."

It only took three days before Marinette had to use the Horse Miraculous for the first time. Chloe's birthday had come and gone over the weekend, it seemed, and her mother had gone back to New York only a couple days prior. Because Chloe was Chloe, she was determined to take it out on her classmates. And in particular, Marinette.

Marinette was very, very glad that she now had locks on both her school bag and her locker. Maybe she had to deal with snide comments from Lila and exasperated looks from Alya, but there was very little doubt in her mind that, had Chloe been able to get at her things, something would have been destroyed.

Again.

As it was, Chloe had been trying to push Marinette around and get a rise out of her, and Marinette had pushed right back. And then once again, Ms. Bustier pulled Marinette, not Chloe, out of the classroom to talk to her.

And once again, Marinette's frustration was rising. Giving Chloe good role models wasn't helping, and it never would. Chloe had had examples of how to behave properly for years, with other classmates and teachers and her butler and the other hotel staff, but she simply didn't want to. Why would she, when she got rewarded for being the city's biggest brat? And why should the teachers be expecting Marinette to be that role model for Chloe, when Chloe had bullied Marinette for years? Why did they want her to just lie down and take the abuse, as though that would make things better?

So for once, Marinette didn't censor herself. She didn't bite back her thoughts, pushing them down and away like she usually did. The only way that Chloe was going to stop bullying was if an adult actually stood up to her for once, instead of trying to smooth everything over.

And then, before Ms. Bustier could try to argue or reason with her, Marinette turned and stalked off to the bathrooms. Maybe this wasn't a great time to take a trip out to the countryside- after all, Marinette had already missed a fair bit of class thanks to akuma attacks- but akumas didn't care about when it would be a convenient time for them to show up. She was upset now, and so she would have to miss one more class.

"Really, Chloe just needs to be sent out of Paris!" Tikki exclaimed, sticking her head out of Marinette's bag as she dashed for the bathroom. "She keeps doing stuff like this and upsetting people, and everyone is too worried about upsetting her to do anything about it!"

"You don't have to tell me that," Marinette said grimly, heading into the girl's bathroom and making sure it was empty with a quick glance before dashing for a stall, hands already fumbling for the lock on her bag. "Unfortunately, I don't think that Chloe's father would go for that idea. Kaalki, let's gallop! Voyage!"

Marinette had done her research beforehand and had picked out several possible places in France that she could go for her out-of-Paris relaxation. Her criteria were rather simple, really, and all in the name of safety, comfort, and maximum benefits.

Marinette's retreats had to be somewhere out of the way, where no one could see the portal or see her come through it and then detransform. They had to be somewhere with decent weather, so that she wouldn't spend the entire time shivering and then end up returning to Paris too soon. And to be most effective, they had to be somewhere where Marinette could relax, meaning no noisy industrial sites or mining areas or train stations nearby.

Thankfully, the Horse's power didn't have limits on distance. That meant that Marinette could completely bypass the urban sprawl around Paris to get to green countryside and soaring mountains. So she did.

And once she popped through the portal and it snapped shut behind her, Marinette let loose with a frustrated yell that echoed off of the trees, letting out all of the anger and annoyance and why won't the teachers do ANYTHING? that had built up.

It was a lot. And as soon as it was out, Marinette practically slumped to the ground, her throat already a little sore. There had been a lot of pressure built up, and getting it out...

She hadn't realized how wound up she had been. Weeks and weeks and months of repressed emotions and suppressed reactions and trying to walk the thin line between not causing unnecessary conflict while also trying to stand up against injustice.

Trying, of course, being the operative word. It was hard for her to actually have any sort of lasting impact when the teachers and principal and sometimes even her other classmates were so focused on smoothing things over that they completely undermined her.

It. Was. Maddening.

So what if Chloe got upset and got akumatized? How was that any worse than letting Chloe upset others, over and over again? She had caused more akumas than Marinette cared to count, and pretty much every last one of them had been because Chloe had deliberately upset the person. Accidental akumatizations from Chloe- if any existed- were far and few between, and the deliberate ones had just gotten more frequent after Queen Bee started showing up.

Ladybug had allowed Chloe to keep using her Miraculous in the hopes that having to deal with some akumas would make the bully think twice about being cruel to others. Instead, she seemed to think that if she made enough akumas, she would get to come out more often.

Maybe it would be a pain to have to find and train in another person, but things had gotten to the point where she didn't want her superhero team at all associated with Chloe. Marinette didn't want Paris thinking that she was excusing Chloe's behavior, and frankly, having to fight alongside her longtime bully could be emotionally exhausting sometimes.

"That was quite the scream!" Tikki commented as Marinette released her transformation, letting both kwamis out into the cool forest air. "Has it helped?"

"I feel better, yeah," Marinette admitted, settling herself a bit more comfortably on the ground. There was still a rock digging into her leg. "But yelling at the trees doesn't solve anything. I mean, it felt good to be able to actually do, but it's not going to change Ms. Bustier's mind about actually punishing Chloe when she misbehaves." She scowled, nails digging into her hands as the reminder of the injustice came back. "All she's going to do is tell me to do better! Aren't I already trying enough? Doesn't anyone else in the class have any responsibility, or is it all magically supposed to fall on me?"

"It does seem rather unfair," Tikki agreed, but it fell on deaf ears. Marinette was continuing her rant, now on her feet and pacing.

So Tikki sat back and waited, absentmindedly weaving herself and Kaalki flower crowns to wear. There were plenty of options to choose from in the field, and it was so relaxing but also allowed Tikki to keep an eye on her Chosen, who seemed content to rant to the trees about everything she had been keeping trapped inside so that she wouldn't get akumatized.

It was a lot. Next to Tikki, Kaalki listened, apparently enthralled by the gossip.

"Your teachers do not seem to be interested in creating an environment that would reduce the number of akumas created," Kaalki commented when Marinette slowed, apparently running out of things to say. "Which is unusual, considering that akuma battles can be quite disruptive and dangerous. One would think that the possibility of being akumatized would be extra incentive to really crack down on bullying." She snorted, tossing her mane. "Bullying is not fabulous."

"Tell that to Chloe." Marinette let out a long sigh, scowling at the sky as she fiercely wiped away a stray tear that had started making its way down her cheek. "She seems to think that every time she makes someone cry, it's an achievement. That it's something to laugh about."

Tikki exchanged a look with Kaalki. She was a little shaken, really. Marinette had been upset before, but she had never been allowed to let herself really feel that emotion all that deeply before, not while Tikki had known her. The closest she had seen was during their close calls with akumas, but that- it wasn't anywhere near the level of distress and frustration that Marinette was at now.

"And Master Fu said that I should 'identify the source of the distress and address it', but it's not like I haven't tried!" Marinette continued, another tear streaking down her cheek. "I've pushed back against Chloe, but then I don't get any adult support when she retaliates! Instead, if the adults do anything, it's to scold me for not 'being the bigger person' and 'leading by example'! What else am I supposed to do? It's not like not fighting back will make it any better!"

"The teachers need to improve," Tikki agreed. "You've said before that they seem to favor Chloe, and I can see where you're coming from with that now. Ms. Bustier is so focused on helping Chloe that she's lost sight of all of her other students."

Marinette nodded. The tears were falling freely now, and while Tikki would normally be alarmed, they were well out of Hawkmoth's range and she remembered once hearing Nooroo talking about how therapeutic and relieving it could be to have a good cry. "Unless whatever problem there is is being caused by someone other than Chloe, and even then she just does the dumb hug-and-make-up approach."

"If she tries to do that with you and Lila, I hope you do the same thing that you did today," Tikki told Marinette. She had seen Lila over the past few weeks, and Tikki wouldn't deny that she was a bit alarmed. If Lila got close to Marinette, she would no doubt whisper threats or try to plant something on Marinette to get her in trouble. "Just tell her no and walk away. I know it's hard to stand up to adults, especially ones who are supposed to be protecting you, but if Ms. Bustier gets pushback from her best student, maybe she'll be forced to reflect on if those techniques are actually accomplishing what she wants them to."

"I don't want to have to! I just want to go to school, learn, and hang out with my friends, not have to- to wage a battle every time I leave the house!" Marinette's voice was turning more and more upset. "Why can't I get that? Why do I have to be always fighting in my civilian form, too? Aren't akumas enough?"

Tikki couldn't answer that. It was awful and unfair and the burden for keeping Chloe and Lila under control shouldn't fall on Marinette as much as it did, but she didn't want to say anything and give Marinette false hope.

Hopefully things would change soon and for the better, but why would they? Marinette had pushed back and complained before, abet not to the same extent, and only had been ignored or told that she had to do better. Maybe her going missing for- well, however long it would be- would shake Ms. Bustier enough to take Marinette's complaints seriously, but Tikki wasn't going to count on it. Not when nothing had changed when Chloe had gotten probably half of the class akumatized before.

An hour had passed by the time Marinette had gotten her emotions out and calmed down again enough for her to feel safe returning to Paris. That meant that school had let out for lunch by that time, so Marinette just portal-ed herself into a closet in the library before heading straight home.

She was met by a disapproving mom at the bakery's front counter. Apparently Ms. Bustier had called the bakery to report Marinette for talking back and then vanishing for an hour. In her newly relaxed state, though, Marinette was able to clearly tell her mom what had happened- what Chloe had done, what Marinette had said, Ms. Bustier's response, and Marinette's response to that and her decision to take some time to herself to calm down so that she wouldn't get akumatized.

(She didn't tell her mom that she had magically left the city, though. That would have been hard to explain.)

Needless to say, Mrs. Cheng was still ticked, but this time her ire was aimed at Ms. Bustier.

"If you can tell your dad to send someone out to man the counter for ten minutes, I think I'd like to call your teacher back and have some words with her," Mrs. Cheng told Marinette, her jaw tense. "I understand it must be intimidating to have the mayor's daughter in her class, but that's no excuse to not at least try to correct Chloe's behavior and to punish others instead. I had no idea that it had gotten so bad, but if that's the response that Chloe gets from the teachers when she acts up, it's shouldn't be a surprise that she's gotten worse." She huffed. "And it's not like her father is the president. Mayors hardly have that much power over the school system."

"Has your mom gone over to the school to talk to them before?" Tikki asked as Marinette practically skipped up the stairs to make her lunch. "It sounded like she really meant business."

Marinette shook her head. "No. I think they figured that the teachers must be giving out punishments behind the scenes, instead of interrupting class. After all, when they were growing up, their teachers would punish the bullies and support the bullied, not- not the other way around."

"And now they're really realizing what's truly going on," Tikki finished. She landed on the counter, watching Marinette as she started pulling out the ingredients for a toasted sandwich. "And I... Marinette, I've come to the realization that I have behaved somewhat poorly myself recently."

Marinette nearly banged her head on the counter door in her rush to straighten up and stare at Tikki. "I- what are you talking about, Tikki? You haven't behaved badly at all."

Tikki shook her head. "But I have! It's been rare for the stakes to be so high, like they are now. Most times when we're battling an opponent, it's perfectly fine for my wielders to get angry or upset or frustrated- and they should! It's frustrating to have to set aside your normal life to deal with threats! People argue and get upset! My Chosens tend to be like you, where they're big advocates for justice and what's right, and it's frustrating and upsetting when something isn't fair or just and you can't do anything about it!" Tikki took a deep breath before pressing on. "And this time, it's not safe to do that, not with Nooroo's powers on the other side. Nooroo has only been taken once before, and that was only for a short while."

There was a pause as Tikki composed her thoughts, and then she pressed on before Marinette could interrupt. What she had to say was important, after all, and she didn't want it to go left unsaid.

"I worry- no, I know- that I have gone too far with my focus on that danger. It's important, sure, but Ladybug is not an emotionless robot. You have trials and troubles of your own, and they are valid. You shouldn't feel like Marinette's troubles are less important than Ladybug's, and I- I think I was pushing it to that point. Looking back, there have been far too many times when you were upset about something perfectly understandable and valid, and instead I focused entirely on you needing to put those emotions aside because Ladybug can't get akumatized. Which is still true, but I could have been more understanding in my approach."

"I understand-" Marinette started, but Tikki held up a paw. This wasn't the time for Marinette to be endlessly forgiving, brushing transgressions from small to large under the rug with a gracious smile. Some things had to faced, and this was one of them.

"It is easier now, of course, with the option to escape and emote as much as is needed, to get upset and face that. But I- I have lived for eons. I know that it's not healthy to let emotions stay bottled up, and yet that's what I was encouraging! Maybe you wouldn't have been able to have the kind of breakdown that you did today, but I could have been more proactive about thinking up other solutions! And I don't want you to argue with me about that," Tikki added, because she knew Marinette and she knew Marinette would. "It's just- my promise to you is that from now on, I will do my best to do better. I will do better. Ladybug is important, but I can't let myself lose sight of Marinette in the process."

Clearly having Mrs. Cheng give a piece of her mind to the school had had an impact. Marinette didn't know what her mom had said to her teacher, but Ms. Bustier had stopped cutting Marinette off entirely when she was standing up to Chloe (and Lila, too, which was interesting), instead cutting off the fight when the other person was trying to argue back. There were no more remember-you-need-to-set-an-example looks, either, which was a relief.

Still, it was early yet, and her teachers' behavior wasn't the only thing that could make Marinette upset.

Marinette's second trip out to the countryside happened about a week after the first one, and had been more of a precaution than removing herself from any actual danger. Alya had been gushing about one of Lila's most recent lies and then had gotten annoyed at Marinette's refusal to eat lunch at school so that she could "get to know" Lila better so that she "could stop being jealous". It was something that happened so often that all Marinette really felt at that was annoyance, but, well, it was their lunch hour and it was nice to be able to sit in a meadow of flowers over a gorgeous mountain lake and freely express her frustrations with Alya's Lila obsession to Tikki and Kaalki.

Besides, the amazing view was really calming and inspiring, and Marinette returned to Paris a whole lot more relaxed and refreshed than she had left it.

"Okay, so normally I would frown upon unnecessary use of a Miraculous, but I think I might need to reassess my definition of unnecessary," Tikki admitted as Marinette packed her backpack for afternoon classes. "I feel a lot better after having that break, and I can tell that you do, too. I'm not saying that we should hop out to the countryside every day, but I don't think anyone will really mind it if you don't just use it for emergencies."

"We'll call it general mental health improvements," Marinette said with a giggle. "And I don't think Kaalki will complain- she was playing in the flowers as much as you were!"

Tikki giggled as well, looking far more like the cheerful, positive kwami that Marinette had gotten to know at the start of their time together than she had been recently. "A break is really nice. And you have the akuma alerts on your phone, so we can get back to Paris in a moment if we're needed."

Marinette tried not to look too amused. Clearly Tikki had really liked getting out of Paris. She wasn't going to complain, though, because it was really, really nice to be able to get away from things for a bit and not have to always be monitoring herself and her emotions. Away from Hawkmoth's akumas, Marinette could get frustrated and yell and actually face her emotions and come away stronger for it.

She hadn't come up with any long-term solutions, not yet. Marinette had tried the obvious- calling out Lila's lies, trying to bring the obvious contradictions and falsehoods to Alya's attention, straight-up questioning if Alya had done any verification of facts- and none of them had worked. But she was still trying.

Trips three and four- well, they were pretty similar to trip number two, where Marinette could have moved past her feelings but had appreciated the ability to actually grumble and vent first and besides, it was easy enough to grab her lunch and vanish off to the mountains or a forest for an hour to eat. Trip five was mostly just because Marinette had an entire Saturday where she didn't have anywhere that she needed to be, because the girl squad was hanging out with Lila, and it was so much easier to get her homework done without distractions when she was hanging out in a field instead of sitting at her desk, surrounded by projects and books and magazines that she had yet to read.

Trip six for much the same reason was interrupted by an akuma that had Marinette rushing to return to Paris, and trip seven was really just an extension of the sixth trip because she had forgotten to gather up all of her school things in her hurry to get back to Paris.

"Your energy has improved," Master Fu commented when Marinette headed over to his apartment for a lesson. He was smiling as he ushered her in. "Has having the Horse Miraculous helped, then?"

"Very much, Master Fu," Marinette assured him. She ducked her head, finally feeling a bit sheepish for the first time. Since Tikki and Kaalki had both been fine with and had even encouraged hopping out of the city to relax in the countryside, even when Marinette wasn't actually all that upset, she had maybe taken advantage of the Horse's powers a bit. While Marinette had certainly felt better ever since she had started escaping Paris and relaxing under the trees, surrounded by birdsong, it probably wasn't quite what the old Guardian had had in mind when he gave her the Horse Miraculous to use. "It's nice to be able to get out of the city and be able to actually face my emotions instead of shoving them away."

"And we've found that just relaxing out in the countryside helps out a lot, too," Tikki added, floating out of Marinette's purse and looking as sheepish as Marinette felt. "Even if, uh, nothing in particular happened. Or if it was just something small."

Master Fu considered them and Marinette watched him, suddenly anxious. Was she going to get scolded for misusing a Miraculous? She doubted that he would take the Horse Miraculous away from her, since it was so important that she not get akumatized and that was their best way to prevent that right now, but it was very possible that she would have to seriously cut back on the number of trips she took outside of the city. But what if he did decide that she hadn't been responsible enough with the second Miraculous and took it away and-

"I don't see any problem with that," Master Fu said at last. "There are parts of me, of course, that disagree. After all, I had the instruction to never use the Miraculous for anything except things like battle and healing drilled into me during my time at the temple and, well, what happened there only drove the message in deeper. But there are many ways to consider health, both mental and physical, and if leaving the city to do your homework in the countryside helps ease your burden and clear your mind... well, Kaalki doesn't mind, or she would have said something. And I assume that you would have told me if she had said something."

"Kaalki likes it," Tikki assured him hastily. "She's been encouraging it, even! We've been researching different places, because she so likes exploring- not outside of France, because we don't want weird charges coming up on Marinette's phone bill, but cool places in France that are away from people enough that no one will see the portal."

Marinette just nodded, relieved. She had been so, so worried that he would think that she was abusing her powers, but if Master Fu thought that her less-than-necessary trips out of Paris were okay, then...well, Marinette wasn't going to question it too much. They had been making her feel better for sure, and the landscapes that she was seeing...

Well, Paris was inspiring, there was no doubt about that. The gardens and skylines and architecture and history and shops and general fashion were all a huge source of inspiration for Marinette, but they could only go so far. Streams and meadows and forests and waterfalls and mountains...

It was a new environment, really, a break from Marinette's normal, and now she was itching to create a tank top or a dress that would flow like her new favorite little stream. And maybe traditional florals weren't exactly Marinette's thing, but flower-inspired embroidery or watercolor patterning could be.

"So I would continue as you are," Master Fu told Marinette. "Obviously the most ideal situation would be for you to not need to leave Paris in order to not become akumatized, but if eliminating the source of your stress is proving too difficult or you simply find that you relax better outside of Paris, then that is understandable."

Marinette nodded, exchanging an excited look with Tikki. Now that they had their permission, she wouldn't feel vaguely guilty anymore every time that she used Voyage when she didn't need to. If Master Fu thought that it was okay and even healthy for her to leave the city regularly, then that was all the permission she needed.

And just like that, the burden on her shoulders eased a little bit more.

Plagg could tell that Ladybug's mood had improved dramatically over the past couple of weeks, despite things at school not really changing that much, as far as he could tell. Once he talked to Tikki, the reason became obvious.

Letting Ladybug hop outside of the city using Voyage to let off a bit of steam? Genius. And it sounded like Ladybug was using the Horse just for fun, too, just to relax, which... well, she deserved it. Also, it was about time Tikki let up on her insufferable gotta-be-all-about-duty, no-fun-allowed attitude.

But that wasn't the point or even a concern at the moment, because his kid's father had pushed too much, demanded too much, and then was far too cold to Adrien over a very small mistake. That had gotten Adrien frustrated and overwhelmed and upset, and now he was in serious danger of getting akumatized.

Ladybug couldn't get herself akumatized, because then there would be no one to purify the akuma. She was crazy tactical on top of that, and even Master Fu pulling in all of their backups probably wouldn't be able to match her sheer brainpower and creativity when it came to fighting and setting traps. And if she couldn't get her Miraculous safely sent off with Tikki before the akuma took over, then there was the possibility that Hawkmoth might get the Ladybug Miraculous. That was bad.

But Adrien- Chat Noir- getting akumatized would be bad, too. Ladybug relied on her partner a lot, even if Adrien sometimes didn't realize it, and she had never fought him properly. Whenever he was being controlled by an akuma's powers, his fighting was a bit held back. It was muted. There was still him somewhere in there, subconsciously holding back just enough that Ladybug could get that opening she needed. If he was akumatized...

That subconscious hold-back would be overridden. On top of that, Adrien's guilt at getting akumatized...

He already felt bad enough when he couldn't make an akuma attack because he legitimately had no way to get away from his civilian duties, or when he got hit by an akuma's powers and couldn't be there fighting by Ladybug's side. Plagg didn't even want to think about how bad Adrien would feel if he got akumatized.

Which meant that right now, Adrien either needed to be calmed down really fast or removed from the situation entirely before an akuma could find him. Plagg didn't want to take over Tikki's previous role as Kwami of Repressing Emotions, which meant that he needed to go for the second option. Which meant that they needed Ladybug to use the Hose's portal to get Chat Noir out of Paris, ASAP.

So Plagg focused all of his energy and attention inwards for a minute, sending an urgent message to Tikki to have her and her horse-ed up Chosen come to the Eiffel Tower ASAP and to Voyage Chat Noir off to the countryside immediately. As soon as the message went through and Tikki sent back an affirmation, Plagg spun back around on Plagg.

"Up, up, transform and get to the Eiffel Tower now," Plagg demanded, tapping Adrien's shoulder. If they didn't move and Hawkmoth wasn't out of town, he had no doubt that they would be seeing a purple butterfly soon enough. "C'mon kid, up."

Adrien rolled over from where he was lying face-down on his bed and regarded Plagg. "Is there an akuma?"

"No, but you gotta get out of Paris before any butterflies come after you and Ladybug's got the Horse. C'mon, she's on her way, let's go!"

Thankfully, Adrien didn't protest any further. He transformed and ran for the Eiffel Tower, just barely landing on one of the upper beams when he was tackled from the side, off of the tower and through a portal. He and Ladybug landed in a bit of a tangle in a meadow bordering a forest, and for once Chat Noir didn't get distracted by their position, rolling off of Ladybug at once and making a dash for the trees. Once he was in a ways, he detransformed.

"You can go hang out with Ladybug," Adrien told Plagg once the kwami spiraled free. His voice sounded a bit choked. "I just- I need a moment to myself."

"Of course." Plagg hesitated a moment, then zipped back out towards the light. Horse-bug was still in the middle, her back against a large, rounded boulder. She had already pulled out a notebook and was working on homework, it looked like, or at least she was trying to. The concerned looks that she kept sending the trees probably made it a bit difficult to actually get any work done.

"'Sup, Horsefly!" Plagg said cheerfully, zipping around the rock and perching on Ladybug's shoulder. She startled but, to her credit, didn't immediately start screaming or scramble away. "Whatcha up to?"

Ladybug's glare was positively poisonous. "Horsefly?"

"Yeah! 'Cause you've got the Horse Miraculous, and flies are bugs, right? And normally you're Ladybug, so..."

Her expression went flat. "I'm setting Tikki on you. And you're not getting any cheese bread. Ever."

Plagg blinked, then promptly went backpedaling. "It was just a joke! It's not like I've been calling you that regularly or anything, ha-ha, that would be dumb, I definitely wouldn't do that. And that name wouldn't fit anyway, you're very refined and elegant and everything and horseflies aren't at all, so, uh, yeah! Just a joke, don't set Tikki on me, please don't withhold the cheese bread, you're fantastic!"

Ladybug did Not Look Impressed. Plagg...supposed that he couldn't blame her. Before he could make another stab at smoothing things over- he didn't want to lose his access to Marinette's cheese bread before he could even get it- a rather feral scream ripped out of the woods. The two of them startled, whipping around to stare at the trees. After a moment, though, Ladybug let out a snort of laughter.

"I did exactly the same thing when I first came out here," she admitted, settling back against the rock and releasing the Horse portion of her transformation. Classy glasses perched on top of her nose, and she pushed them up onto the top of her head. "Just screamed and screamed until I went hoarse to let all of the stress out. It builds up so, so much, more than I realized. And then once I could just scream my head off..."

Humans had strange stress relief mechanisms, Plagg decided, but he supposed Ladybug's reasoning made some sort of sense. He had seen Adrien scream into his pillow a couple of times to blow off a little steam before, and this was, well, a lot of steam.

"I can see why you pick spots that aren't near any hiking trails or roads," Plagg commented as another muffled scream made its way through the trees. It didn't sound scared or in pain, though, so he figured that Adrien was still doing fine. Physically, at least. "I think you might alarm some people with the screaming. I'm surprised that my kid isn't trying to muffle it, actually, he's usually the sort to suffer in silence when people who aren't me are there." The I was worried that he would be worried about you judging him went unsaid.

Plagg knew that Ladybug wouldn't judge Chat Noir, of course. They were partners and Ladybug could sympathize with too many expectations and scream-inducing stress, obviously, since she had the Horse Miraculous for this exact reason. But Adrien tended to hold his cards close to his chest even with his friends, which, considering his father, wasn't really a surprise. Plagg had seen Mr. Agreste shut down his son's feelings too often to really feel any surprise when Adrien put on his poker face even in front of his friends, opting for the path of least resistance instead of pushing back in any way.

"I could tell that he was upset," Ladybug said after a pause, her voice quiet. "I mean, he was practically screaming it with every line of his body. And...there was an akuma headed for him, when he was on the Eiffel Tower. I got it and purified it before it could make contact and so that it wouldn't fly off and get someone else when we vanished, but that- it was just way too close."

That was too close. Maybe Plagg could get his kid to join Ladybug on her more regular excursions to the countryside to get some relaxation and regular tree-screaming in. That wouldn't solve the problem of Adrien just having an awful father, but it might buy them enough breathing room to be able to not attract an akuma the next time that Gabriel Agreste was an awful person.

Or maybe he should say the next time that Gabriel Agreste was an outstandingly awful person. After all, the elder Agreste's baseline state of being seemed to be awful.

"It wasn't a great day," Plagg admitted. "And I'm not going to over-share, 'cause my kid would get mad at me and I don't want him to start hiding his emotions from me, too, but he would probably benefit from getting out of Paris every so often, too." He snorted, derisive. "If his handlers allow any time in his schedule, that is."

Ladybug looked troubled at that, which probably meant that Plagg had said too much in his annoyance with Adrien's father. Hopefully she wouldn't poke at that too much, at least not when Chat Noir was around.

"I have a friend who always seems to have things scheduled," Ladybug said, and Plagg tried not to react because, uh, that was his kid. Ladybug was getting a little too close to the truth for comfort. "Even when he has a gap in his schedule, whenever he tries to fit in something with us, his father schedules something for him instead. I'm honestly amazed that he's not been akumatized over that, because it has to be upsetting."

"Uh-huh," Plagg said, because what else could he say? Then his ears perked, pointing towards the woods. The screaming had stopped, which probably meant that Adrien had gotten the anger out of his system and had moved on to sadness, which also meant that Plagg should go check in on him and help Adrien work through his feelings. Which admittedly wasn't exactly his strong point, so... "Say, how has Tikki been recently? Still trying to get you to see everyone else's point of view, or...?"

Thankfully, Ladybug shook her head. "We've come to an understanding that there's a time and place for that, and it's not when I'm upset about something. We still talk about other people's points of view, of course, because understanding where people are coming from can help create long-term solutions, but it's not an excuse for their behavior and doesn't invalidate my feelings."

"Fantastic. Can you detransform, then, so Tikki and I can go talk with my kid?" Plagg asked hopefully. "I'm not very good at the talking stuff, really, and playing comic relief only goes so far."

"Of course!" Ladybug detransformed in a flash of pink sparkles, then settled back against the rock. "Take your time. I'm not needed anywhere, and I want my kitty feeling his best. It's really helped me to come out here, and it would be great if Chat Noir gets to have that, too. "

"Thank you, Ladybug!" Plagg told her, grabbing Tikki's paw and tugging her along towards the forest. "You're fantastic!"

Hopefully he and Tikki could help Adrien work through some of his frustrations and misery. Plagg hated to see his Chosens upset, and Plagg didn't want to see Adrien akumatized, either. It would be best, of course, if Gabriel Agreste just vanished off of the face of the earth with Hawkmoth not far behind him, but barring that happening, Plagg would have to content himself with just getting Adrien happy and in a healthier place mentally. The improvement that Ladybug had made recently was incredible, and if both superheroes were doing better, Plagg suspected that that would result in exponentially happier superheroes.

After all, a happy, rested, relaxed superhero was a focused superhero, and a focused superhero meant that their partner wouldn't be forced to pick up the slack in order to keep fighting, and that meant a less stressed partner and a stronger partnership. On top of that, if the superheroes were spending more time together outside of battles in a relaxed environment, then maybe they would be clear-headed enough to come up with plans for taking down Hawkmoth for good.

Maybe Plagg still didn't understand the whole screaming at the trees thing, but, well, if that could get Paris' superheroes back to their old, relatively relaxed and not-at-risk selves, then he wouldn't question it.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Tikki #Plagg #whoops should have gotten this posted before the finale but how was I supposed to know that they would do that to Fu?

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prince-toffee · 4 years

Text

Season 1

Welcome to ‘Seasons’ dipshits. This might have four more follow ups, or this is the only one I’ll make, I don’t know, I get bored a lot. Anyway, the concept of this imprint is - ‘back during this season of Spop I had this outlandish crazy theory, and so now I write it’. Cause I thought it might be interesting. Plus canon sucks. This is set after the events of season one, so it’s kind of like episode 14. Forget everything we now know, pretend like all we knew was what season one showed us.

Also, special thank you to @tallysgreatestfan who was the one who gave me this idea for this canon divergence ball-pit. Enjoy, or don’t, I’m not your mom do whatever you want, I don’t care.

This took way too long.

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Beatrix scoffed and threw the brown ration bar and the rest of her food tray across the prison cell, she far preferred the grey ones. She gave a defeated sigh lowering her head down. She rubbed her fingers over the scratched part of her mask, in the spot where a chip of the Black Garnet used to reside. Her shoulders slouched down, all tension in her muscles left her as she gave up. She felt so powerless. So weak. Just a few days ago she was still one of the most powerful witches on the planet, every magic user feared her name.

Shadow Weaver.

Now, she sat in a prison cell, rank-less. She didn’t know if she should’ve felt honoured, or disgusted by the fact that the cell was specially attuned and adjusted for her specifically. Which meant it was probably designed and constructed, in secret, long before her treason. This place was full of secrets and surprises, usually unpleasant ones. Hec-Tor would’ve probably said it was an honour, he was an architect that truly thought of everything. And The Fright Zone was one of his most haunted creations.

Beatrix wasn’t disgusted, per say. She knew she didn’t have many fans, and plenty of enemies at every corner. This outcome was inevitable, she knew deep down she was getting too greedy for her own good. But the power felt too good to give up. What a fool she was. She saw it all clearly now. Where her addiction led her. Her very unsubtle disregard for orders, her greed peering through her emotionless, cold stature. She knew she was on thin ice with Hec-Tor, the control freak he was. He desired order and expected sub-ordinance. He always disliked her - everybody back home knew she was a wildcard, deceptive, insidious. Looking out for only herself - she never really cared about the cause.

Perhaps she should’ve been more surprised that he didn’t do it earlier. She knew he wasn’t fond of her, and vice versa of course - she couldn’t stand his patriotic and prideful attitude. Acting as if being apart of The Horde was a gift from god. He was an old blind fool. Beatrix wouldn't have thought twice before leaving this place and selling her loyalty and inside information to the most welcoming bidder - The Alliance, or even maybe try her luck with The Empire of Talon Mountain. So any choices to choose from, now if only she could manage to escape her imprisonment.

Unfortunately, if she knew Hec-Tor, and she did, the Hordak had probably thought of every possibility of escape she would think of, and countered it. He was paranoid like that. The spherical pure white containment cell she was unceremoniously thrown into was made out of Glowmoon-Dwarfstone, the surface layer anyway. A magical element only found on one of the moons of Etheria, able to absorb darkness itself - a favoured building material of BrightMoon, apparently. Bad news for the Weaver of Shadows, she was powerless here. She despised feeling weak, vulnerable. She was meant to be the predator, not the prey.

She had no shadow. The stone absorbed it. She felt two dimensional. She didn’t know if that made sense, but she heard the stone had negative effects on the mind if in close proximity for too long. Speaking of which, she had no idea how long she had been locked up, she lost the track of time. No windows. So no sky. No clock. No space. The spherical cell was the size of a small closet. At least they were still feeding her, but the food in there was never anything to gloat about.

She placed her face into her hands, she was loosing it. She couldn’t break! But she was close. She didn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of seeing her beg, and pled. She was strong, stronger than them. She was going to win in the end, she just had to wait it out, play the long ga-

“Inmate-667. Place your forehead on the wall behind you and position your hands behind your back. The containment unit door will open, and a commanding official will commence your questioning. And Weaver, you’re gonna like this one, hehe.”

Beatrix narrowed her eyes and growled at the announcement. She recognised the voice, Force-Commander Grizzlor. She never liked him. The feeling was seemingly mutual. She did as she was ordered. A groan reverberated through her throat, she knew exactly what is was, she could tell from Grizzlor’s smug voice. Catra. She was back to berate her. It seemed like her former ward’s ego had grown three times the size, rather than her heart. Beatrix dreaded these visits. Catra came over from time to time, to insult and demean the dark sorceress, rub her victory into Beatrix’s face. Insolent little brat! She got lucky! Beatrix was weak when she caught her off guard, too drained by the toll the Black Garnet’s power took on her. If only- if only she could take hold of the Garnet’s power! S- She didn’t need much, just a little, it would’ve cleared her mind, beat her heart faster. If she had just a little more she could’ve had taken out Catra, and her two stooges. Everything would have been all better if only she had a little more. Damn that girl! And her mother!

The cell opened up. A side panel gave out a hiss as it dislodged, pulled out and off to the side. Weaver felt the colder air pour in. The closest shadow cast onto her was to weak for her to do anything with, the upper layer of the walls draining it’s ethereal cosmic weight. Or perhaps she was the one who was too weak. Catra loomed over her. The teen thought she could intimidate her, not a chance.

“Well? Come on then, you spoiled brat! Got anything to say? Came here to gloat and mock me, you think you have won, but one wrong move with Hordak and he’ll throw you to the dogs, he’s-”

“Weaver.”

The sorceress silenced herself. The voice that called to her was cold and smooth, in other words not Catra’s. The single word was followed by a pair of footsteps, metal boots clanking against the stone’s surface. The sound of cybernetics hissing as his joins moved. He was close now. The cell entrance slide back into place closing the cell. They were alone now. Beatrix had to admit, even though she knew Hec-Tor for most of her life, seen him at his most vulnerable, even shared some intimate moments with him, but still even after all that - he was terrifying.

She turned her head around, and there he was. He looked different in the light, stranger. She almost never saw him outside of his ThroneHall. Always cloaked in darkness and smoke. She sometimes wondered if he bought smoke machines on purpose to scare any kids that would accidently wonder into the room. Hec-Tor certainly had a taste for the dramatic. Beatrix turned around and seated herself comfortably looking up at the Overlord, well, as comfortably as possible. There he was, in all his glory, out of shadows - a glorified toaster. The same Hec-Tor that used to write poetry for girls that would never go out with him. The same Hec-Tor that dyed his hair blue, because kids from the neighbourhood made fun of him being ginger. The same Hec-Tor that beat his own father within an inch of his life, and conquered half of the galaxy...

Same old, same old.

She swallowed down quietly, she couldn’t show him she was weak. The mask helped hide most emotions, most weaknesses, she had to control the rest of her body language. Beatrix lifted one leg over the other and intertwined her fingers together, giving off a relaxed posture.

“Lord Hordak. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She looked over him - blood red eyes, and teeth, grey skin, military regulation hair cut, his two prostatic arms, which could crush boulders, his imperial purple cape, and the neon lit armour implants. She was actually curious as to what he was actually going to say. His eyes narrowed, anger was apparent, but an air of irritation was present too. He gave out a long tiresome sigh, as he moved his fingers to rub the bridge of his nasal cavity, even venturing as far as his eyes, she was in for it.

“Why? Why can’t you just follow orders? Beatrix Hallows, always struggling with adhering to reason and common sense.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he actually had the audacity to school her, to talk down to her. This was almost worse than Catra, hearing her full name spoken out in a mocking tone, like lecturing a child, slapping them on the hand, this was humiliating. And from Hec-Tor too. When angered by her he’d usually give her the cold shoulder, take her off a mission, reassign command to someone else, like Catra. She thought he had given up on talking to her, and her, ages ago. But she wasn’t going to have it.

“Having fun? Look you’re not covering any new ground here. Catra already had multiple pitstops here to make me her new donkey. If you think you get to insult me like that, just remember your punk rear wouldn’t have made it back home if it weren’t there for me. You owe me. Several.”

It was true. Back on HordeWorld, back in Catrax, back on the streets. They had nothing. Had to rummage through trash, and steal for food. Stomach empty all day. Times were tough. They had to rely on each other. One distracted the passer-by and the other pickpocketed, on a lucky day, thanks to Hec-Tor’s puppy eyes the stranger would hand them some pennies on top of that.

But man, on days like these she wished she had never stood up to those bullies shoving little young Hec-Tor around, should have never allowed him to follow her. But how couldn’t she, he was so adorable.

“I am not here to appoint you my personal laughing stock. And I thought I told Catra talking to prisoners was forbidden. I’ll have a chat with her about the regulations... I am here to understand. Finally. I have been putting this off for far too long.”

This was curious, and unexpected. She would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t interested in what was about to exit that mouth. He had avoided her for years. Often said she was ‘not worth wasting words on’. The feeling was mutual. She heard that mouth declare rousing speeches, bone-chilling monologues, and the softest of kisses. Versatility was everything. He continued.

“We never saw eye to eye, never liked each other, you always went your own way. Chose to differ from others, always take the other path. You talk back to me, you waste resources on personal escapades, and often break protocol... But back there, at such a crucial point, disobeying my orders, for what? Just because of a child that did follow orders?”

Putting faith in that girl was going to be his undoing. Unless she was going to get to him first. Catra was always a nuisance, untrustworthy, going off on her own, not listening to what she was told. She had a rebellious spirit, that drove her away from Weaver’s lessons, she often managed to drag others away with her. She was too smart for her own good.

She’ll be biting down on Hec-Tor’s ankles soon enough. She supposed that an upside of being stuck in the cell was that he had to deal with Catra’s antics now. That was his mess to clean.

“How did she even get a drop on you? Was it the Garnet? I told you to tell me if the artefact displayed any negative effects-”

“Are you done? I know you didn’t come here to talk about my feelings. If you care to know your magic weapon is fine. And Catra. She’s nothing but a brat that you’re letting walk over you.”

She wasn’t having any of this, she had to speak up for herself. Call it a warning, that girl is not to be dismissed, she’s trouble - like her mother.

But deep down she felt a hint of embarassement herself, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses, years ago when she first drained the power of the Garnet she did it effortlessly. Even though Hec-Tor didn’t trust her, he handed her the responsibility, because he knew she was the only one who could hold its power. He knew she was mighty. But now, the Garnet rejects her, resists her, no longer bows down to her might. It hurt sometimes. But she could never show weakness.

The infamous Hordak stared down at her, judgementally, much like how he looked down at everybody. He looked off to the side at the thrown away tray, mashed potato and peas smeared on the floor, tray flipped over, and the brown rations crumbled on the floor.

“You’re not eating.”

What was that? She wondered to herself. Was that genuine worry? She noticed he stayed on the ration bars for a second too long, noting her preference perhaps. He seemingly had no idea where to go from there, so she helped him out, she asked.

“Why are you here Hec-Tor?”

This time using his real name rather than his title. More personal, it cut to the point. Plus he was always going to be Hec-Tor to her. That puppy eyed scaredy-bat, the one always picked on, by bullies twice his weight, the nerd allergic to flowers, and used to write poems for her. She dismissed them of course, just a bunce of nonsense if you’d ask her. The change never really quite settled in, even when the Council made the public announcement of picking the new Hordak. Even when Hec-Tor’s face came on every screen on the planet. Even when the death of He-Ro shocked the nation. Nothing changed.

Well, maybe not until that day at Vix’s Diner. It was the strangest circumstance. He was the one who called her over. She guessed it was just a nostalgic meet up, like in the old days. The Hordak was present, so they ate for free. Their conversation would be constantly interrupted by randos bowing and giving respects to the walking totem. He dismissed them.

But there was something different about the man that sat infront of her, he was colder, more stiff. Beatrix treated herself to the unlimited free breakfast meals, best she’d eaten in years. She half listened to his ramblings, something about the war with the Light and the Ones Who Won’t Be Named escalating, the Council was abolishing anti-terraforming laws, and Horde warships were launching on the offensive against the enemy. The wannabe poet gone, all that was left of the boy was a patriot, and a soldier. Well what do you do? That’s what the government spoon feeds people.

But the strangest thing was. He asked her to be his Weaver - his second in command. An honour placed apon who seen as worthy, or chosen by the Council. But this wasn’t an ask of desperation or of fear. This was an order. Firm, and powerful. That day in the diner, if Beatrix would’ve refused him, she didn’t know if she would’ve walked out of there with her head on.

The Hordak is no mere man you can refuse after all.

He is the Beast of HordeWorld.

And so, they set off. Boarded the warship: Annihilation, and rocketed into the stars. And the newly appointed Shadow Weaver pondered, that it was quite curious that HordeWorld was completely decimated only few days after they left. Curious indeed.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Couple of thousand years, some food shortages and dead bodies later: Etheria. Crash landing in the back fields of King Niro’s kingdom of Scorpion Hill. And it was through Weaver’s highly skilled dark magic on display, that the kingdoms bowed down to them, Mysticore even building a statue in her honour. They looked up to her, marvelled at her magical abilities. Her Horde magic was far more advanced than what the wizards held in their possession. She taught, and trained them. But good things never last. They turned on her.

“Like I said, Beatrix. I am here to understand.”

Now it was his time to use her name. She was still curious yet cautious. Whatever side-tracks Hec-Tor from the main mission, can’t be good. All this was strangely personal. Was the Beast infact capable of concern and closeness? She let him continue.

“We’ve known each other longer than most beings live. But in my quest into the unknown, I never even dared to explore what was nearest me. Tell me, why break, why snap at me at a point of victory? And why, why the girl? It’s that Magicat that sets you off at every moment. Why? Why do you hate the girl?”

“Well, you free me?”

“...No. We both know I won’t, I can’t. It is against the protocols, and I gave you too many passes, vouched for you too many times, I overlooked your actions for too long. And that’s why I am here.”

Well, that wasn’t going to work. No freedom, no deal, no talking. She was surprised by the fact that this entire situation was simply a genuine attempt at a heart to heart. But he knew nothing. And that’s how Beatrix liked to keep things. Much like Hec-Tor, she wished to be a bogeyman, imagination was always the greatest deterrent.

And what was there to explain? Catra was a pain, undisciplined, and unwilling to learn. Beatrix wasn’t about to just let that brat walk over her, of course she snapped! Everything Catra got, every punishment, was because she deserved it. Though... no. No, he couldn’t know. Could he? Did he? Hec-Tor was a master tactician and strategist, he always researched and analysed everything before the attack - what if the Beast already knew the answer to his own question?

Did he know about Melendy?

Beatrix never spoke to anyone about her personal life, especially not her love life. And she had sure she was back for check-ins, erased her tracks, she was sneaky. She didn’t slip up often. How would he know? Could it be? Was the grand Lord Hordak jealous? A curious stalker.

But perhaps it wasn’t that outside of the realm of possibly. The Queen of Magicats. The Lord of the Horde. Hec-Tor set up many negotiations in the time before the war, people talk.

And what now, he expected her to sit here listen to him give her therapy? As if. If that bastard knew about Melendy’s choice... about her leaving, and didn’t say anything, just holding it over her head as bait - then damn him to the Light! But did he truly know? He couldn’t possibly understand. She was in love. Nothing ever came close to making her feel like that. Not even him. Beatrix loved her, and she chose to leave, just because of tradition, culture. To Light with it!

But what prompted him to care? Perhaps he looked back fondly on the past, reminiscing? Hordak and her didn’t sleep together often, but when the duty became too much, too stressful - they aided each other to settle the nerve. Heh, it took practice to get used to each other, their first time, wasn’t pretty.

She still remembered that night, or well, it was day actually. She always misremembered, since the skies over Catrax were always grey from the city’s pollution. Kids used to come over to their windows and watch the rare instances when sunshine would penetrate the dark clouds above. Very little hope shone down on the people of the lower levels. But the kids of the higher levels, the ones on the first floor, above the clouds, they had all the sunshine they wanted, and took it all for granted.

So when Beatrix and Hec-Tor pickpocketed and stole a little, just to keep living, just to have. It wasn’t that selfish. When the two crash landed on Etheria for the first time they ventured throughout the land, claiming everything they could, stealing and conquering, taking - just to have. Just because they couldn’t, in previous lives.

On that day, after Beatrix stole old Mister Scurvy’s wallet as Hec-Tor distracted him, they both ran off away from the yelling man. Ran faster than they ever ran before, too afraid that the man’s screaming would attract the attention of any local law enforcement, if they got them, it was Confinement for sure, no matter that they were teens.

She huffed and panted so hard she almost fell off her own feet. She had to lean herself on the side of a brick wall in the alleyway she ran into. Just as Hec-Tor joined her, the rain began to pour. He bowed down, arms holding his knees trying to support his upper body. His ears tilted down. His exhausted cough turning into a cackling laugh, which clearly infected Beatrix since she burst into laughter with him. She didn’t really know how it happened, but he got closer to her, with her pinned against the wall, looking straight into each other’s eyes. As their chuckles settled, her hand ventured down to his hip as her lips made their way to his own. And then, well, they were teenagers, you know what else.

Good memories.

Perhaps memories were just the advantage she needed, perhaps Hordak didn’t despise her as much as she had previously thought. Could it be? The All-Mighty Lord of The Horde feeling, lonely?

“Do you remember the alleyway?”

“Eh, there were... many alleyways.”

True that, after it felt so good, the first time, it sort of became a daily routine for them. Partners with benefits. They used each other to feel better, to feel something. There was nothing between the two, or so Beatrix thought. But perhaps she was wrong yet again. She wished to test that.

She took off her mask. The Weaver mask was a totemic symbol back on HordeWorld - representing strength and authority. And underneath that mask, was a woman. A broken woman, with scars and stiches, missing flesh. Something many would call a monster. But Hec-Tor Kur of House Kur saw nothing but beauty. A magnificent beast that saved him many a times. The girl he fell for so long ago. And Beatrix knew that, knew it the moment she locked her toxic waste green eyes with his blood red, which shimmered in the light of the cell. She knew straight away, his weakness.

“Look at me, Hec-Tor. So frail. I wasted away. So little of me left... The Council was right. No matter what power I aim to tame, I fail, I never amounted to anything, like they predicted. I know you’re disappointed to have me as a partner on this venture... But… I miss the alleyways. When we had nothing. Back when so little felt like so much.”

It worked. The seemingly cold and calculated persona cracked. His facial expression changed, from irritation, and anger to a certain softness, maybe pity. He breathed in heavy, and out through the nose. He took a step closer to her. The cell was a snug fit so he was leg was already brushing hers.

“We do have nothing, Beatrix. We are last of our kind. We have little, but we can have it all. You are not a failure. We are not failures. There is a reason why I haven’t just simply executed you like a common thug... I miss those days too. But we still have time.”

The Hordak kneeled down, lowered himself to be closer to her. This was it - the moment of truth. He clearly had no idea what to do with his hands, so one rubbed its thumb and pointing finger together in anticipation, while the other hovered in the air half open awaiting her permission to proceed. The Weaver of Shadows accepted it, took hold of the old vampire’s hand into her own, intertwining their talons. Old scared skin taking comfort in one another, in something familiar, in an unfamiliar world.

“We will have our people back. We will terraform this miserable planet! And we will be the new gods of a new utopia... And... though we never seem to see eye to eye... even if all it was, was physical, there is no one I would rather stand with and watch this world transform into hope, because you are my partner. This is our mission.”

Beatrix was the first to move forward. And Hec-Tor quickly followed suit, he closed his eyes and opened his fanged mouth. And the blissful moment was brief, but glorious, the space bat even let a pleasing hum escape him. And perhaps Beatrix would’ve let it go on longer, it wasn’t often that she had pleasures like these. But this situation was dire, and also, she was really tired of looking at the same white walls all day. She decided she earned herself a little walk to stretch her legs.

Hordak knew there was something wrong - his mouth became colder, and something wriggled inside that made him choke on his own breaths. Shadow Weaver rose up, straightening her legs completely, while Hordak bent down, onto his knees. The Dwarf Stone absorbed all darkness present on all surfaces, rendering her powerless, but the magic stone’s reach was limited. Cause Hordak’s entire inside of his body was nothing but darkness - so many shadows coating all of his vulnerable entrails. She wasn’t going to paralyse him permanently, she wasn’t that cruel - just because of their history, she could show mercy.

Hec-Tor’s face pale and sick, his body limp, blood pooling around his organs, he fell on the floor. Shadow Weaver took a good long heavy breath, perfect. She placed the mask back over her face, and approached the wall of the cell through which Hec-Tor entered. Firmly placed her palms on the stone and harshly blew onto the wall. The ethereal shadows twisted and morphed and drilled into the wall, she didn’t have much time. Every second the walls drained away the shadows, Hec-Tor had very little left in him, and the bright magic of the material weakened her, so little strength was left in her.

But there it was, the sound of the stone cracking. She wormed her fingers into the crack, enlarging it, chipping on it. The rock crumbled down, exposing the metallic layer underneath it. That was it, her window of opportunity. She commanded the shadows to bore into the mechanisms, and the dimensionless beast tore the panel wide open. The steel bending and ripping was extremely satisfying.

Weaver loved the look on Grizzlor’s face as he took in what just happened. The witch made quick work of him, throwing him off to the side with the dark mass. She sighed in relief, she wasn’t free yet, but she had plenty of material to work with. The shadows from smallest corner to the largest corridor converged around her, swirling like a vortex.

“Now this is something I can work with.”

#shadow weaver #hordak #seasons #weaverdak #shadowdak #hordeweaver #take it or leave it #I love it #evil #ask me anything #I plan to do more but you never know #my writing

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makeste · 5 years

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why Kaminari Denki is not the U.A. traitor (and why the traitor is actually Hagakure)

thank you, anon! okay first off, my opinion of the Kaminari Traitor Theory is: nah, he ain’t. but as requested, I will break this down and refute the various arguments point by point.

this is a big compilation of various “Kaminari is the traitor” posts from 4chan (general warning btw for 4chan being 4chan), which I got from this reddit thread. some of these are clearly shitposts, but on the whole it seems fairly comprehensive, so I’m gonna use this as my primary source for theory arguments. if there are any major arguments for this theory that I missed please let me know.

also! a huge part of the reason why I don’t subscribe to this theory is that I am 1000% sure that Hagakure is the actual traitor. so the second half of this post will consist of a detailed explanation as to why I’m all-in on that theory to the point of dismissing any and all other theories. I feel like that’s worth clarifying a bit more.

so! here goes.

“his proto design is that of a villain”

lol I’m trying to think of how to put this diplomatically. this is something I see a lot, people using Horikoshi’s prototype sketches and notes as evidence for various theories. the thing is, this is shaky ground at best. there’s a reason why these are proto designs and not the final product. Deku’s proto design had emo kid hair, and proto!Katsuki was an obnoxious prep school kid lol. plans change, and thank fucking god for that tbh.

but that aside, “he looks like a villain” is not in any way a solid argument to begin with. Horikoshi has made a point in the actual story of showing that people’s preconceived notions of what heroes and villains “should” look and behave like doesn’t always line up with reality. and in this case we’re not even basing it on behavior, but solely on how he looks, which is really kind of discriminatory. by that logic, one could look at, say, Shouji, and be all, “well he’s clearly the traitor.” just because someone looks scary at first glance doesn’t mean they actually are. all in all, I don’t buy it.

“Kaminari is the only one who could have told the villains where the camping trip was being held since he’s pretty much a walking GPS”

I present to you a panel from chapter 83:

literally any one of the students could have used their phone’s GPS to pinpoint their location and send it to the villains. they weren’t on any kind of communications lockdown, and even if they were, there was no practical way to enforce it. so this argument doesn’t really hold water for me. even if Kami’s quirk did work that way, which we don’t really have evidence of aside from one weird line in the USJ arc that has never since been expanded on, that doesn’t really work as evidence of him being the traitor when there are 39 other kids who could have done the exact same thing without a quirk.

“his dumbness is fake”

this is honestly the one aspect of this theory that I least understand. the thing is, this isn’t a theory. this is a what-if. it’s as if it occurred to someone one day, “lol what if he was just faking” and then this entire elaborate conspiracy headcanon was built up around that and eventually evolved into what we have today. this just doesn’t make sense to me at all. is there any evidence of him actually faking it? I feel like people just went “omg that would be such a cool twist” and then started arguing why it could be canon.

anyways I personally think Kaminari is 100% certified organic dumbass, and frankly I love him for that. where is the respect for the dumbasses of the world. Kaminari is still a great character even if he’s not secretly a JUST AS PLANNED double agent. you don’t need to make him evil for him to be interesting.

“look at his sneering face here, though”

okay yeah but hear me out: he’s a little shithead, lol. I mean, do you also think Bakugou is the traitor or.

“I edited this picture to make him look more evil, look”

okay??? lol, what. I think we can just move right along from this one.

“he didn’t bother with a costume, this must mean he doesn’t need help controlling his ability”

this I don’t get at all. a lot of the kids went into hero school not having a clear idea of what kind of costume features would best suit their quirks. that’s only natural; they’re still inexperienced. it is in no way any kind of indicator of any deception on their part. Kaminari is extremely powerful, but until recently he hasn’t had the guidance he needed to help him figure out how to harness that power better. and seeing as he has now made several modifications to his costume since starting at U.A., this argument is out of date.

“it’s scary how much traitor kaminari would make sense”

a lot of these really are just shitposts, huh? maybe I should have picked a better source. but just, like. what even is the logic here? “if he’s actually not stupid THEN HE MUST BE EVIL”? I really am trying to give this theory a fair shake you guys, even though it probably doesn’t seem that way. but this is just leap after leap. I keep thinking that I must have missed something crucial but as far as I can tell this is it.

“Monoma’s gonna copy his quirk and figure it out”

I do want to see Monoma copy his quirk, but only because seeing him go all “wheeeey” would be absolutely amazing tbh.

“reminder that kaminari thought stain was cool”

this one is actually a reasonable point. but listen, you have to keep in mind that Kaminari is a sixteen-year-old boy who gets easily swept up in the latest crazes and memes and fads. he’s naturally curious, and very open-minded and accepting, even when he perhaps shouldn’t be. but it’s as much a strength as it is a weakness, if not more so. those same traits make him the friendliest member of class 1-A (with the possible exception of Kirishima), allowing him to get along well even with a sentient cactus like Bakugou, and to stubbornly befriend Shinsou all of fifteen minutes after Shinsou announced that he wasn’t there to make friends lmao. he’s very unprejudiced, and when you put that together with how excitable he is, you can see how that might make him a bit more susceptible to getting caught up in stuff like the Stain hype train. it doesn’t make him evil. hell, even Deku had a kind of begrudging respect for Stain. I personally can’t stand Stain at all so I don’t get it myself lol, but it seems to be canon that he had a real charisma which many people were swayed by even if they didn’t agree with his ideals.

“>hanging wrist watches on the wall - Who the hell does this”

you know what that’s a fair point too.

“his room is tacky and shows no personality”

okay in seriousness this is barely worth addressing because it’s so far of a reach, but fine. the thing is, Kaminari’s core personality is that of a typical teenage boy. that’s his role in the class. he’s just a normal guy, because you need to have some normal people around to balance out this cast of extravagant weirdos. and anyways, if we’re accusing people of being evil simply because their rooms lack personality, Ojiro and Shouji’s rooms are right. there. I’m just saying.

“he was in remedial too [on the school trip]. avoiding combat”

so were Sero, Kirishima, Mina, Satou, and Monoma. what’s more, they didn’t know that the remedial kids were going to be barred from participating in the test of courage. most of them were devastated to realize that lol. anyways so yeah this isn’t really proof of anything.

“[the night] before the attack Kaminari is clearly missing”

this is referring to this panel from chapter 75:

however, there’s actually a whole chapter in the second light novel about Iida going around in the middle of the night checking on his sleeping classmates (which is actually very sweet) while also trying to find his glasses, and said chapter establishes that Iida is in fact the one missing in this scene. because he’s wandering around tucking people in and shit. Kaminari is actually the one under the pile of pillows.

anyways, this is getting long and I haven’t even gotten into the real meat of this post yet, so I’ll just address a couple of the remaining arguments real quick.

but if he’s really that stupid how did he get into U.A.” - he studied!!! also he’s not really that stupid! he can be very bright, he’s just easily distracted.

L pose – as others have pointed out, this...

...is very likely just a variation of his finger gun pose, as seen here:

but even if it’s not, my rebuttal for the Stain argument applies here as well. my boy loves his memes. this would have been right in the midst of all the Deika City coverage, and the PLF probably took the opportunity to throw a few poses in there. it’s probably the trendy thing on Instagram right now. in any case, what it is not is proof that Kaminari is the person who broke into the U.A. offices and stole the staff schedule in order to facilitate the League’s planned invasion of USJ. nor is it proof of Kaminari being the one who gave away the training camp’s location.

and segueing into the second part of this post now, this, IMO, is what so many of these traitor theories are missing. if you’re trying to identify who the U.A. traitor is, these are the two incidents you need to look at. I feel like a lot of people get swept up in what-if speculation, and forget what sparked this whole notion of there being a mole at U.A. in the first place. it’s specifically because of these two attacks, which could not have been planned without the assistance of an inside person providing information to the League from within UA. therefore, if we’re trying to identify who the traitor is, these are the only two questions we actually have to answer:

who, if anyone, had the opportunity to steal the staff schedule during Shigaraki’s break-in in chapter 12, and

who was it that gave away the training camp’s location and allowed Dabi and co. to invade and kidnap Bakugou?

that’s it. this, IMO, is what the focus should be on. and here’s the thing: while we still don’t have a definitive answer for the second question, we do have an answer for the first, and Horikoshi gave it to us all the way back in that same chapter.

but before I get to that, let’s back up and revisit that memorable incident. recall, if you will, the events that took place on the day of the break-in. class 1-A voted on a class president, and afterwards, during their lunch period, the security alarm went off as a result of Tomura doing this to the door and allowing the press to swarm the school:

initially, Rat Principal speculates as to whether a villain might have taken the opportunity to sneak in. but given the later incident at the training camp, as Present Mic rightly points out, it’s far more likely that there is a traitor in their midst instead. someone who had both the means and opportunity to take advantage of the chaos caused by the press, and somehow steal a copy of the staff schedule from right under U.A.’s nose.

given that this same person is almost certainly the one who later on gave the training camp info to the villains as well, this narrows down the field of potential suspects to either one of the teachers, or a student from class 1-A or 1-B. obviously if it’s a teacher then it could be any one of them, so there’s really no point in trying to narrow it down. the same goes for 1-B since we’re not even introduced to them until the following arc and we have no idea what they were doing during this incident. so for now, the question becomes: which, if any of the class 1-A kids had the opportunity to steal the schedule during chapter 12?

and for the answer, we need only revisit the class president voting records:

incidentally, this is something I can’t take credit for, because it was Viz’s translator Caleb Cook who originally pointed it out on his Twitter. but anyways. just in case this isn’t clear, the results are as following:

3 votes - Deku (himself, Ochako, and Iida)

2 votes - Yaomomo (herself, and Shouto)

1 vote - Jirou, Tsuyu, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugou, Sero, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Mineta, Satou, Kouda, Mina, Shouji, and Aoyama

for anyone doing the math, that is... nineteen votes.

curious, for a class consisting of twenty kids. and downright suspicious given the events that take place less than an hour later. assuming that each student voted for him or herself as implied, what this means is that every kid in class 1-A is accounted for on the day of the break-in, except one. and it’s not Kaminari.

it’s Hagakure.

Hagakure is not featured in any of the panels before or after the vote, either. true, she’s invisible, but she should still be wearing her uniform at the very least. but she is very distinctively the sole 1-A student unaccounted for during this chapter. Hagakure, whose quirk is invisibility. Hagakure, who could have easily slipped into the teacher’s office during the press onslaught and taken a copy of the schedule unnoticed. Hagakure, who is also one of only two people (the other being Aoyama) whose whereabouts are also unverified during the subsequent attack:

now this is where it gets really interesting. why would Hagakure’s location be deliberately withheld? especially since later on she says that she was actually with Todoroki the whole time:

unlike Aoyama, whose whereabouts remain a mystery because He Is Just Like That, Hagakure freely discloses her own whereabouts. the thing is though, if it wasn’t actually a secret, then why did Horikoshi go out of his way to omit it in the first place? there are other characters whose locations we only know because Horikoshi put them on the map. specifically Tokoyami and Kouda, who are never actually shown battling once they get warped away (at least not in the manga). yet despite this, their whereabouts aren’t a secret. it’s a deliberate choice by Horikoshi to not confirm where Hagakure actually is, and coming on the heels of her also being conspicuously MIA in chapter 12, this IMO is a huge red flag.

anyway, so now let’s fast forward to the training camp arc. now here, we do know where Hagakure ends up. specifically, she gets KOed by the gas along with Jirou. this makes her one of only two U.A. students who are not actually involved in the fighting either at the forest, or back at the lodge with Vlad. at first glance, that might appear to make her less suspicious. and it’s true that unlike the USJ arc, there is no evidence here that directly ties Hagakure to this particular invasion (though the same is true for pretty much everyone else as well). however, there are two things I would like to point out. the first is Hagakure and Jirou’s position in the test of courage lineup:

directly behind Todoroki and Bakugou (a.k.a. the League’s target). this would have put her in a good position to signal to the League when to attack. note that the attack didn’t commence until Baku and Todo had reached the midpoint of the trail, which results in their decision to press forward through the forest rather than turning back toward the start.

this is suspiciously good timing on the League’s part. it’s not confirmed they knew exactly when to strike -- they could have just gotten lucky -- but it’s something worth taking note of.

and the second thing is that being so close to the League’s target would have made it difficult for Hagakure to escape without having to fight the League. and since she wasn’t alone, she couldn’t just run off and hide like during USJ. so it may be that she made the deliberate choice to let the poison gas take the two of them out instead, especially if she knew in advance that it wouldn’t actually be lethal. this gives her an alibi for the attack without putting her in the awkward position of potentially having to fight her own allies. all in all it’s making the best of a tricky situation.

lastly, here’s the thing that really clinches the whole theory for me, and it takes place a couple of days later. now remember, the purpose of this whole attack was for the League to kidnap Bakugou. they go to all that trouble, even losing three of their own members in the process. and what happens afterwards, barely two days later? the heroes track down the villains using Momo’s homing device and Naomasa’s fortuitous tip, and are able to get Bakugou back, albeit at great cost. all of that meticulous planning, only for the League to end up on the run, and with Tomura’s mentor taken captive to boot.

this seems like a huge oversight on behalf of the U.A. traitor if they knew about the heroes’ attack and didn’t think to warn the League. and the thing is, we know for a fact that every single member of class 1-A did know in advance, thanks to Kirishima and Shouto. every member that is, except two.

hmmm.

so, to reiterate. Hagakure Tooru:

has no alibi for the incident in chapter 12 during which someone stole the staff schedule as confirmed by Kurogiri in chapter 13

has no confirmed alibi for the USJ invasion

had the means and opportunity to pass along the training camp location to the villains, assuming she had a phone with GPS

is one of only two 1-A students who did not know that the heroes had tracked the villains’ location, and thus would not have been able to pass along that vital bit of info. we know that the villains were caught unawares by the heroes’ raid, so this is huge

so that’s three incidents (not counting the training camp location which admittedly anyone could have done) in which Hagakure is singled out as one of only a handful of people with no alibi during a critical moment. now granted, there are a handful of other candidates who could possibly fall under suspicion for same reasons. Aoyama’s whereabouts are also unknown during the USJ invasion, and Jirou was also knocked out during the training camp attack. however, Hagakure is the only one who lacks an alibi for all three incidents. and, crucially, she is the sole 1-A student who did not vote in the class president election, something which is never explained or even brought up but which is hidden in plain sight.

for these reasons, I pretty much have to conclude that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. it just lines up. and for me, the difference between the Hagakure theory and the Kaminari theory is that the evidence for the former is based on actual events in the canon, whereas the Kami theory seems to mostly just be speculation about whether or not he’s secretly evil. and look, I have no idea whether or not Hagakure is evil. I have no clue why she’d be doing this. she seems nice (although it’s worth pointing out that we have no idea what she actually looks like, who her family is, or even how old she really is for that matter. her quirk is awfully convenient for being a spy). motive is definitely a big question mark here. but the fact remains that all of the evidence we have thus far points to one candidate, and that’s her.

anyways! so that’s the end of my post about the Kaminari traitor theory, I guess! basically, he is not the traitor for many reasons, but the most compelling one is that the actual traitor has already been confirmed in my book. anyhoo, this plot has more or less been on hold since chapter 98, so it’s been quite a while since we’ve had much to speak of in terms of new evidence. but as of 242 it looks like things may finally be on the move again, so that’s exciting. regardless of my opinion on the Kami theory, I’m excited that people are talking about this again, and I really can’t wait to see how things develop from here.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #kaminari denki #hagakure tooru #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #bnha theory #u.a. traitor #traitor!hagakure #hagakure traitor theory

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 67: Cauldron of Despair

Chapters: 67/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Mature Warnings:

Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go)

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has A Bad Time, But Like, Dude Did Some Bad Shit

Summary: It’s easy to forget what he did.

Thor circled the Frost Giant's corpse trying to decide what to do about it.

“Well. This is a mess.” He said, staring down into his brother's azure face. “And I'm not just talking about body cleanup.”

“She doesn't listen!” Loki seethed. “Why does she always go headlong into danger; does she not realize what it does to me? I have never run so fast in my life!”

“Mortal women seem blessed with an excess of virtues.” Thor shrugged. “Curiosity, courage, and responsibility among them. Jane was no different. You remember.”

��I do. I also remember that she managed to avoid getting badly hurt, because she knew how to run and hide!”

“Perhaps. But she also-”

“Norns, I don't care! Get this thing off me, you great oaf!”

“Temper, temper.” Thor chided, rolling the body over with his boot. “You're so angry, you've gone blue in the face.”

“I will kill you.” Loki snarled, squirming free.

“You were certainly insistent that she not see you. Still keeping that secret?”

“Shut up. We have to get this cleaned up. We have to assess the damage, and we have to check the tunnels for more. How did it get here? Is it a relic from the old war? How many are down there?”

“I will go check.” Thor volunteered. “You should go to the healing wing and try to calm things down. No doubt it's a little hectic there right now.”

Loki nodded, waiting the few moments it took to regain his milky complexion, then the brothers parted ways for opposite sides of the palace complex.

*****

“So he was frozen in here? Like some kind of cell?” Thor glanced around the scintillating bubble in the ice. There was a large slot in one wall, where the giant had presumably been sleeping. There were objects strewn about, covered in ice, that to Thor, looked like they could be a Frost Giant's version of a soldier's mess kit.

Thor knew that no humans had been down in these tunnels. The government of Iceland hadn't even known they were there. This Jotun must have been here for a very long time, sleeping in the ice. Perhaps a trapped soldier, perhaps a lost traveler.

His journey was over now. It was actually rather unfortunate, Thor mused. Even though they had invaded and killed many humans, a Frost Giant could do much good on Earth now. They could generate ice at will. On a world where important glaciers were rapidly disappearing, a Frost Giant ally could be quite successful.

How frightened he must have been, to wake up suddenly, alone, not knowing how many years had passed. Still in the mindset of a war that had long ended, surrounded by enemies. Everywhere he ran, more enemies, more unfamiliar surroundings, more fear and desperation.

Yes, he had killed people on his rampage, and yes, Thor had killed him. But, as a warrior, Thor sympathized. This was tragic, all around.

“We need to clean this area out.” He said. “Gather and clean all of these objects. Do not proceed with digging unless accompanied by einherjar. We won't know if there are more until I bring Heimdall down here.”

“What shall we do if there are more, my king?” One of the clean up crew asked.

“We dig them out.” Thor said. “Slowly. Under my supervision.”

“Could we not just...leave them there?” One ventured. “Stop digging and leave them encased in ice?”

“The climate on this world is changing.” Thor explained to him. “There is a strong possibility that the ice will melt no matter what we do, and free them anyway. Best to do it under close watch, where they can be subdued, and their situation explained to them.”

“Mercy, my king?”

“It is a new age, and we are a people reborn.” Thor proclaimed. “We can try doing things in a new way.”

*****

“She will be fine.” Bjarkhild assured Loki. “It turns out that our Blood Burn remedies are very effective on mortals. She will have sore spots on her arm for a few days, no more.”

“And Kolla?” Loki asked.

“Two broken ribs, a broken wrist, and a broken nose. She will have to stay under a Soul Forge for a week or so, but is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Very good. The messenger lad?”

Bjarkhild sighed deeply. “He will lose the arm. A terrible shame, but the damage was just too great. Perhaps if he had stayed laying down when he was hit, but pushing himself to go find you...”

Loki sat silent for a moment.

“We will Retire him.” He said finally. “It's the best we can do for him now. I will draw up the papers, if you will sign them.”

“Yes, your Highness.” Bjarkhild agreed.

Asgard loved it's heroes, and provided for them, whether military or civilian. A soldier had a pension, guaranteed care for if they were grievously injured during noble battle. A civilian, however, wasn't expected to put themselves in harm's way. For those that did, and suffered for it, there was the institution of Retirement. All of his needs would be taken care of; he would never be without food, home, quality clothing, or respect.

Bjarkhild was right. The messenger's arm might have been saved, had he simply lay still and waited for medics to come to him. But instead, he had found Loki, to warn him of the danger, which gave him the head start needed to reach you in time. This was a heroic act on par with any einherjar.

One day, they would have their technology up and running at the capacity Old Asgard once had. And if the man wanted it, a nearly seamless prosthetic could be offered. But Asgardians tended to cherish their battle wounds, which was why Odin never got an mechanical eye, and great-uncle Tyr never replaced his hand. They could have, of course, but they had earned those wounds in the defense of Asgard. It was a matter of personal pride.

“Shall I have you notified when I release her, or should I just send her to you?” Bjarkhild asked.

“Send her to me.” Loki said. “You need all your people here. How many are...”

“Beyond my help?” Bjarkhild finished. “Six. The other ten are in various stages of injury, but expected to pull through.”

Loki nodded solemnly. Six of their all-too-rare people.

He left the healing wing, noticing Gloa hovering anxiously in the corridor outside. He approached, and took her by the arm.

“Gloa, I want to thank you for-”

She whirled with a startled cry, and struck him across the face.

Loki quickly stamped down the stab of rage within him, watching the emotions fly across her features: Shock, realization, acceptance, and finally ownership over what she had just done. She jerked herself out of his grasp.

“Don't just grab me!” She snapped. “I don't care who you are, you don't have permission to lay hands on me whenever you want!”

“Gloa...” He growled.

“Don't talk to me right now. Not when your filthy kind has robbed me of yet another person I love!”

Loki flinched. Gloa's family had not come through Ragnarok whole. He knew she blamed him for it, for unleashing Surtr, and he didn't know how to explain that it had been Thor's idea without seeming like he was just passing the blame.

“Gloa, your father and uncle were brave warriors, and we honor them-”

“My father and uncle were heroes, and they died saving the people of Asgard!” Gloa interrupted. “I am satisfied for them. They rest in Valhalla with all those who died well.”

“Then why do you blame me?” He demanded.

“Not for them! For my brother!”

“Your brother?”

“You don't even remember. My brother was chosen as a guard in the Allfather's vault. We were all so proud.” Gloa scoffed bitterly. “The eve of Thor's coronation-the first one-he was guarding the Cask of Ancient Winters. He was murdered by invading Frost Giants, who sneaked in to steal it.”

And just like that Loki's throat closed, a fist of guilt squeezing his heart.

“I know it was you who let them in.” Gloa accused, tears rimming her eyes. “Maybe you didn't directly admit to it in that horrendous, self-aggrandizing play you had written about yourself, but I could read between the lines. The sick justification for your actions- all because you had decided that Thor was unfit to rule! That he didn't think things through, and he would get us killed through his bad decisions. But how are you any different? You were perfectly willing to sacrifice Asgardian lives-the very lives you claimed to have been trying to protect-for your own agenda! And it got you nothing! You shattered my family for nothing!”

Speechless, Loki stepped back under the sheer unexpected force of the tirade. What could he possibly say?

“You wanted to thank me for standing next to your little pet project? Pah! She is feeble, and brief, and weak, but she's not a coward, and she actually stood for our children. She may not be worth much, but she is still too good for you.”

Gloa stomped away, furious tears streaming down her face, leaving Loki stunned.

*****

Thor gazed over the objects arranged on the table before him. All the scattered debris from the frozen cave, cleaned and brought to him for observation. These definitely made up a soldier's mess kit, and perhaps a higher class soldier, if the quality of the items we an indication. There were dishes and cutlery, hewn from bone and ivory, carved with foreign designs-Frost Giant art. There was decayed leather bedding and bags, waterskins, and a pack for rations that had long since rotted away.

And, untouched in the ice near where the giant had slumbered, a diary. Velum and ink from the strange sea creatures of Jotunheim, bound in leather, with ivory plates, it was a precious artifact from a thousand years before.

Thor picked up a page turning stick and very carefully opened the book. The ink that the Frost giants extracted from their oceanic beasts was thick, so thick that it raised slightly from the pages, making the letters look carved, rather than written.

Thor was not familiar with Frost Giant writing; until recently, he would not have thought they were literate at all. He had to wonder if examples of Frost Giant writing had been more common before their defeat at the hands of Asgard's armies, before the claiming of the Casket. What kind of dark age had that defeat plunged them into?

As Thor gazed at the unfamiliar runes, they resolved themselves in his mind into something he understood as if he had been raised on it; it was simply automatic. He read a few pages, absorbing what they revealed, until he realized that he could, in good conscience, read no more. This was meant for someone else.

This was meant for Loki.

*****

Consequence. Every action set off a chain of events that never ended. Loki would never get the chance to be a good man again, because the fallout of his deeds would stretch out into forever. He would never actually be able to make amends. He could not restore Gloa's brother to life. All of eternity would pass without him. Without her brother, and without the other guard. He hadn't even considered their lives while he schemed. Hadn't known their names, nor attended their funerals. They really had just been a means to an end for him, acceptable casualties.

And he had considered himself more concerned with the safety of Asgard than Thor had been. What a fool! He had been exactly the same as his brother, only more secretive about it. Moreover, Thor's actions regarding Jotunheim, while irresponsible, had not actually cost any Asgardian lives. But Loki's actions regarding Thor's irresponsibility had. In a way, Loki had tried to play father to Thor, but he wasn't a father yet, and had failed in all of the ways he had blamed Odin for failing. And Asgard was poorer for his actions: Families shattered, people bereaved, grief and emptiness that would flow on until time ended.

Perhaps Gloa had been right all along. Perhaps he simply was the actual worst, undeserving of the happiness he had attained. Unworthy of you.

Certainly you had never done anything to endanger your world, or any others. You only had one murder under your belt, and it was not only self defense, but it had also been erased by the great reality reset. You were practically innocent. What had he actually done to earn your love?

All he had done was kidnap you and destroy your life. Take you away from your home and family, and force you into a new life and career, been rude, frightened you, kept secrets. Was still keeping secrets.

He shouldn't have yelled at you. He had been overwhelmed by fear, and adrenaline, the fog of war, but he still didn't have to yell. He had acted like an ogre to one of the few people who loved him.

His dazed wandering had brought him back to his only place of real safety; his bedroom, the black sheepsking rug in front of the faux fire. The place where he held you. He needed to hold you.

He ached for you. For your warm embrace, the comfort of you. Bjarkhild had said you would be released soon, mostly unharmed. He waited, wallowing in his torment.

He shot up to his knees the instant he heard you enter the chambers, hope suffusing him. He heard the door to your little room open and close, then nothing else.

His heart split and sank down, as he laid down flat on the rug.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #thor (marvel)

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