#+ i wish they had given her a proper mind core with a personality

[aecho-again]

[regulusrules]

Chain of Thorns Review ✯✯

Beware, you are going to be staying here for a long while because I wasted my entire night writing this out of spite.

I'm going to start by accentuating how much of a CC lover I am. TID was exceptional. TDA had characters that snuffed my soul. Even TMI had its good moments with me, no matter how much I hate Clary. But nothing compared to TLH. It was a series I thought of recurringly. The fact that it was a continuation to TID made me go absolutely bonkers when I first read CHOG. It was perfect. Perfect in its characterization. Perfect in representation. Perfect in every single aspect I could think of.

Until this book.

If I've learned anything, it's that you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain. And this is exactly what happened with CC here. She ruined everything by writing this book the way she did. Utter waste of paper. Utter waste of time. I wish she had just left us at her cliffhanger to Paris in CHOI rather than shitting her way out in this one. Truly, it would have been more dignified than what she did here.

But where do I start? Lord, I literally wrote a checklist of all the things that went wrong in the book so that I wouldn't forget mentioning them. It's a list I never thought would be warranted for a CC book, let alone the culminating book of my favourite characters. The book just went on and on, repetitive and insanely ruinous to all what you hoped for. You wanted her to do justice by Matthew with him realising that he's not actually in love with Cordelia but with the idea of her? No, let's make it a fucking love triangle instead. You wanted Cordelia to exude the glorious power and grace that she had? No, let's reduce her to a stereotypical girl torn between two boys. You wanted James to be the ever-giving, everloving continuation of Will Herondale? No, let's shun him in speculative introspections instead and just give him a badass move in the chapter before the epilogue so that by the last page he's a semblance of the MC we fell in love with.

I haven't started yet.

Listen; I don't mind long books. Rather, I really enjoy them. I don't like rushed narratives or quick endings. I like seeing things given the depth they deserve. But that's not what happened with Cassandra and this 800 pages book. It was nothing but a waste of ink. She went on and on for CHAPTERS on things no one gave a shit about, but when it came to the actual scenes that were the core of the book.. she pretended she did not see.

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃!

For example, the most important character arc of Matthew confessing his biggest secret to James was rushed in two pages. I kid you the fuck not, two pages. She might as well have not wrote it, just like she didn't write Matthew's conversation with his parents over this, rather skimmed it in a paragraph in the ending. Just like she did not write James's important scenes as well! You want him to have a proper conversation with Will about how he was cursed in the EXACT SAME WAY Will had thought he had been cursed when he was young? Joke's on you. You want to see Matthew's proper reaction to this? Um no. You want him to be truthful to Cordelia and tell her? Ah no my love, let's let the miscommunication theme work its way instead, prolonging this with him not wanting to be "pitied". For a very proud person myself, I did not see what Cassandra was doing by justifying their actions with pride. Pride is not about shunning pity. It's about not accepting it. So to ruin their character's arc by relying on this pedestal.. yeah, that didn't work.

What else? Ah, number one thing that created the checklist and made me leave the book for days: James and Jem's conversation. You know what the problem of it was? It was everything that Jem wasn't. I literally raged reading this scene, because as audience who are very familiar with Jem's characterization, you KNOW that his response to James's curse wouldn't be this plaintive indifference. There was NOTHING of who Jem was to James in this conversation. It was the first time someone from the elder generation talks to James about the curse, and it was very apparent how in despair James was from it, only for the conversation to not even exude one ounce of sympathy. I fucking didn't believe her. She tried to fix this by making James always able to calm down through Jem's instructions in the back of his mind, but what's the use of that when the main conversation we were looking forward to set an undertone of how much of a disappointment the rest of the book will be?

Next in the neverending list: Paris. Dear fuck, how it aggravated me. The utter ooc-ness of Matthew LYING????? Like fine, I get it. He didn't want to burden Cordelia with seeing him in shambles. How very honourable. So let's ruin this by being lying, conniving sons of bitches instead of being truthful and shutting her out while we heal for all we care. I mean, the whole ship is problematic for me, really, how Cordelia only clung at Matthew as her form of escapism and how he, supposedly, loved her despite it? I won't go on lengths on how I think the headcanon of how he was projecting his love on her instead of believing his real love for his parabatai should have WON, but the least CC could've done was to not make it too destructive for his character so that we basically have to go through a typical love triangle just because there's nothing better to write. She literally just reduced Matthew with all his charisma and superb characterization to a mess who doesn't want to heal. Even when he stops drinking, CC still enforced the narrative of how he was doing it for others' sake, not for his own. Only in the end, with the solo trip thing, do we get a sense of his adventurous spirit that might be on his way to healing. The rest was useless. The rest she just wanted to show the effects of withdrawal without showing HIS own thoughts about it. Nearly always it's people's thoughts about Matthew, about him going through this, about him always susceptible to the bottle, never HIM! Not one scene do we see his perspective, and God if this wasn't the most reducing thing she could have done to his character.

Should I start with Cordelia now, or leave it to the very fine end? Might as well do both, since it's basically a long list with everything that went wrong with her. My favourite female, also reduced to a shallow shell of all she could have been. It was like CC was taking notes from her shitty characterization of Clary and applying them to the one character that should have surpassed all standards. I'm not even talking about her reaction to the love triangle thing. I'm mainly talking about her fixation on it. How all of a sudden, the victimized mode was on, lamenting all what has been happening in her life. And sure, characters are allowed this— they're allowed to rage for all we care— but Cordelia became a hollow figment of the character she was with CC's insistence on this framework. She didn't even do anything about the matters that aggravated her, just took them all in with passivity that I was dying from. And the first time she did take matters in hand, her conversation with Matthew, she just slaps him in the face (metaphorically) with everything you don't say to a person who supposedly loves you. The real first act of agency I found in Cordelia was her reaction to Grace when she told her of the bracelet. How she took it in stride, and how it truly spoke of the fire and grace she was made of. Other than that, no amount of Edom or killing Tatiana or disentangling from Lilith could truly speak of her actions that were out of her own accord. And that's when you lose me: when characters lose their agency.

I'll be back to Cordelia later, but there is someone who I also wish to talk about regarding disregarding their agency: Anna. Just the most influential of characters being nothing but a puppeteer for Ari. And listen, not that I have anything against Ari, who was also one of my favourite characters, but no matter how much this ship is loved, it shouldn't have been the only sense of her character. We don't see Anna in her own eyes. We don't see her grief, her pain over losing her brother. We just see her characterization wasted on romance, and that was not all of who she was. When she discovered the abandoned entrance of the Silent City, that was the first time I felt like I was reading Anna Lightwood again. When in the epilogue she said, "I regret nothing", THAT was Anna Lightwood. All the rest was a bare reflection of the all-encompassing person she was. I mourned her more than I mourned Christopher.

Which takes us to darling Kit, who was done so dirty in the way his death meant nothing. I take it how characters thrust in war shouldn't always have honourable sublime deaths, but the least CC could've given us was their genuine pain over losing him. The intermission, the subtle references of their destruction over his death, were not enough. Not for a book that is 800 pages anyway. We don't even see Thomas, his parabatai, grieving. (Just like we didn't see him grieving his sister. It's so typical at this point to shrug Thomas's pain off.) She can justify it on Tumblr all she wants, but we don't put a lid on grief just because it's war and there's no place for mourning there. She didn't even write Cecily and Gabriel's reactions over the death of their SON! We just see them coming to the picnic in the epilogue, carrying their other kid. What a nice ending, CC :)))))

Truly, I wouldn't have found Kit honoured at all if it wasn't for that note: 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥. No matter how insignificant it must be for everyone, but this was the legacy I was waiting for Christopher. Waiting to see him honoured and revered in the eyes of his beloveds. This was the only thing, if you hear me.

Speaking of beloveds, from all the characters, the only one she did justice to was Grace for how she held on her care for Christopher and honoured him while doing so without being romantically entangled. One of the two stars is basically for CC not sailing that ship, and rather making them equals and companions. I absolutely loved this. And I love how when Kit spoke on her behalf, he was not speaking from being enamoured by her, but rather his own beliefs of what true mercy and justice meant. In the epilogue, when all of them hold on his words, that was what made me give a sigh of relief. But when James buried his gun saying Kit would "understand", that fucking made me explode. Because bitch yes he would understand, that's the problem. But you don't honour the dead by burying their greatest creations unless they specifically asked for it. He could've buried anything else to leave Belial behind; the book of Demons, Demons and Demons for all we care, but not this. It was the first time I was actually in pain from Kit's death.

Back to Grace though; CC still did her dirty. You know in what? That reunion scene of her and Jesse. Because fuck, I cannot even express how much I was longing for this scene. It was the one that would either carry the whole book in its shoulders, or speak for how shitty it was. And indeed it spoke, in the worst kind of way. I truly didn't expect CC to ruin this scene with how indifferent it was. Does everyone understand what it means to have your dead brother come back from the dead and call for you? It shouldn't have been as insignificant as she portrayed it. It would have been the most powerful scene of the entire book, if only she wrote it well. Instead what does she do? She leaves bars between them, figurative and literal, and distances them in a way that fucking ruins everything. I'm not saying she should've went on full emotional, but at least, Jesse's reaction shouldn't have been this painful. It wasn't even the time for the revelation. We could've gotten it later, but when closure was first met. For years, Grace held onto Jesse as her only anchor, and what does CC do? Throw the anchor in the sea. Fucking miser. This was my biggest indication of how CC will no longer know how to write emotional scenes.

And this was obvious in all of the other emotional scenes too, you know. When instead of cutting dialogue, she prolonged them, which made it horrible to read. Long dialogues are worthless without sincerity; I'm sure that's 101 writing for us. And no matter how hard she tried to issue sincerity, I personally could not feel it. I didn't feel it in their grief over Kit, nor in Matthew's reaction over the bracelet. I didn't feel it in Edom, nor felt it in Cordelia's pain when she saw James stabbing his own heart. They were all scenes that should have served, but all they served was half-baked imagery.

Last thing I'll say because I'm really going to post this review and leave Cassandra's entire world behind: the problem with her is that she has nothing new to offer anymore. Cassandra Clare is one of the best authors of nowadays, and rightfully so. She created a fully-fledged universe that is so well thought of and well-structured. But in doing so, she burned out by prolonging her stories. Chain of Thorns could've been culminated in a four hundred and a few pages, but instead she went on and on with ideas she had already done in previous books. Fuck, she even drew inspiration from the TMI show with the whole Alexander being kidnapped thing and going into a demonic realm. I legitimately didn't know whether to laugh or cry from how horrible that was; drawing inspiration from the show that fucked up your series. But really, this all speaks for how burned out she is. She is reusing the same ideas over and over for lack of new things to say. It's better not to at all rather than to go on in a "full cycle" of ideas. No matter how impressive she thinks it was, repeating 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘯 for 8 times (yes, I counted) in this book was truly NOT impressive. An idea hits for how fitting it is to the context, not for its sole sake. I haven't been this disappointed in TMI no matter how much I hated it just as I've been disappointed here for how she ruined the characters we grew to love. I hope she takes a break before writing anything new, because I truly believe she'll need it. And I hope, for her sake before the sake of this fandom, that she realises that there is no shame in taking your time in writing. It's so obvious she was rushed into writing this book, and that just speaks for how terrible the influence of media is nowadays. We love her despite her characters and despite her writing. Once she realises this, I'm sure her whole perspective might change as well.

And with this, LJ runs away from the Shadowhunters world.

[bewarethewolfarmy]

Ancient Conceit

(What's this, Erik is talking to someone other than the girls? Welp this should be interesting. Now with Even More Asshole Gods

Chapter Four: Comfort and Secrets

Chapter Six: Fate Moves Again )

Erik had gone through time and space, been told magic was real, met a goddess and been given actual human kindness by someone else. He had taken up residence, for now, in a Library and still didn't know what his primary benefactress did when she went off into the strange loud world outside alone nor if she possibly remembered that they had met before. Yet none of this confused him nearly as much as the strange man with the bird head currently standing outside the front doors of the Library.

His brilliant mind was stuck. On one hand he was convinced that this had to be a costume, that no living being truly had the body of a man and the head of a bird, yet on the other he remembered that he did live with Nel, a goddess, and that too was incredible to him.

A third hand, which he did not have physically but mentally was an entirely different train of thought, was stuck on how he did not recognize what kind of bird that head seemed to be though he was certain he probably should. It's beak was very long and it's feathers a lovely blue-green, shimmering in the light of the daylight. This somehow, in Erik's theatrical expert opinion, seemed to clash only slightly with the dark well pressed suit that the man wore and upon further inspection seemed just a little uncomfortable in. The phantom, alone in the Library while Tsuki had gone grocery shopping and Nel had gone with her to “ensure she does not get into trouble”, felt uncomfortable as well though in his case the problem was not his personal clothes but the stranger outside.

Henry the tailor had delivered beautifully and today's outfit was a subtly elegant dark blue suit with silver embroidery, fit perfect and even with the continued use of the hoodie, he found himself comfortable. He had been tempted upon receiving the gift of clothing to both cry from the sheer kindness that Tsuki and Nel continued to show him and seemed intent upon to do more as time passed, and to see about possibly commissioning a proper mask. Or at least materials to make one; the primary thing stopping him was the fact he did not wish to impose more, though the knowledge that bringing it up would no doubt bring questions of why and his need to reveal his secret, these did not escape his thoughts either. The hood would do for now and he would be content on that.

A knock at the door returned him from his thoughts about the clothing and back to the present. A few blinks of confusion later he glanced against through the peephole and saw the bird man looking...impatient? Faces not like human ones were hard to read, and he already had a hard time reading many expressions that weren't disgust or hatred, ones he was very much used to unfortunately. But it occurred to him by the way the bird seemed to look at a watch on one arm, he seemed unhappy.

Erik, fearsome Phantom of the Opera, nearly jumped as he heard a voice which he reasoned came from the bird man, deep and clear, making him think strangely of pages being flipped through a book, “Nehalennia, this is ridiculous, allow me entrance now. To think that I of all gods would be forbidden entrance here is outrageous; you cannot lay claim upon a mind and soul such as hers and deny I the god of knowledge the right to protest!”

The bird headed man spoke with clarity and conviction; his vocabulary made Erik feel self-conscious. There was something pompous about it but as the phantom recognized similarities to the way he himself spoke he wondered if it was truly in the best interest of his to judge. But the core of his words seemed to be an irritation with Nel for laying claim to someone, the only person who came to mind was Tsuki, the only other “she” he had come across in this world thusfar. The idea this god seemed interested in her brought mixed feelings, some sort of glee at knowing someone he was friendly with could elicit such interest and wanting from another god, a darker jealousy and irritation that the god would dare think themselves able to “claim” Tsuki as if she was a prize. And an even darker one that the god would do so for someone close to Erik himself.

The thought of what to do swirled in his mind and as it felt to him that ignoring him and going back his own ghostly way would not likely work, he would concede as well that he did not wish to simply leave this so-called god of knowledge upon their doorstep in case he still stood when the girls did return and annoy them further. It seemed in light of their current absence from the Library and his being there instead that it fell to him to rid the place of pests as he could so as to not allow his generous allies to be bothered further.

Gathering himself he spoke, through the door of course, “Good monsieur, I regret to inform you that the goddess who protects this place is out as is it's gracious owner. I would recommend you return at a more advantageous time for all.” Like never.

Through his peephole he saw the bird man straighten up, was that an expression of surprise and confusion or just the way the man's eyes worked Erik wondered. Feathers ruffled then settled quickly enough and there was less a change in demeanor as there was a change in tone as the so-called god spoke again, “And who might you be then? I did not know that another lived with Nehalennia and precious Tsuki.”

Precious Tsuki; that made Erik bristle and frown some. She was indeed but not for any other to say such but the goddess and the phantom. The way the so-called god had said it made him displeased. “I am but a humble guest, tasked with the overseeing of this place while they are out on their errands.”

Sort of lie; Tsuki and Nel had never asked such a thing of him. They never really asked anything of him, Tsuki preferring to encourage him to do as made him comfortable and only really requesting him to remember to eat or occasionally tell her of his life. He could only bring himself to tell her simple things, good things, try to remember all of them and avoid the multitudes of bad, but the way her eyes lit up when he told her such made his heart swell and he had to always be careful not to tell too much, reveal too much, lest his true identity come out in some way. Her happiness and interest though made that hard sometimes though. As for Nel, no less curious but far more prudent, mostly just tried to get him to as she put it “chill out”; according to her he was too highly strung, an attribute he could not help for all the pains of his past but he did try to obey and relax a little.

“And what errands might those be?” Simple curiosity from someone else but knowing what the bird man seemed to be there for, who, and the impatience he appeared to show, Erik did not dismiss it as just that.

The idea of lying did come to mind; in fact it was his foremost thought at the moment. He did not wish to tell this being the truth, he did not trust him and he did not want him near Tsuki or Nel. Whether that was because of some inherent belief he was of danger to either or both, or simply jealousy and possessiveness two traits he was well aware he had in abundance, he could not say for certain but the end result was clear. He did not wish to tell this bird man anymore than necessary and certainly not possibly send him straight at the girls.

“They did not tell me exactly,” Erik said, “Simply that they were going out for a time and would be back.”

Could bird beaks make a disappointed clicking noise? It seemed so but still impossible to him; Erik continued his vigilance at the door, watching as this bird seemed further displeased but he hoped did not try anything. He watched as the birdman raised one hand, causing Erik's heartrate to go up, but as it came towards the door something fascinating happened. There was sparks and a shimmer in the air and he was aware of definite pain in the bird's face, a wince or cry that was unmistakable. Fingers singed and a low hiss left the beak and for a split second, a moment in time, he could have sworn he saw something else under the skin, something old, something completely inhuman. Writhing, wriggling, and through the wood of the doors it seemed to stare at him before gathering near instantly back into the form of the well dressed man with the head of a bird.

“May I come in then to wait for them?” The birdman's tone was careful and polite but Erik did not feel the urge to accept this request. For one it was not his place, for another he did not trust this being, for third he did not quickly forget the sensation he felt when he was certain he saw something beyond the veil of this form.

“Good monsieur I do not know you and I have not been given leave by the owner of this place to allow others enter as I wish,” Erik said.

“This is the Library, all are supposed to be welcome here; you merely need open the door and let me enter!” How quickly that polite tone turned. There was definite impatience and displease in that voice and he watched as the birdman's feathers bristled, puffed up in a form of just how annoyed he was.

Erik could not argue that, though almost no one came or left other than the two girls and himself, and it did not escape his memory the way the man had been somehow rebuffed by what he could only imagine was some magic to keep away others. Or maybe just him.

“Be that as it may I will not simply give you leave to enter when I do not know who you are.” It was a weak argument but it did bother him somewhat that he still did not know what this being at the front door was.

To this the birdman straightened up, his feathers returning to as they were, a regal essence and self-importance oozing from every pore. There was an air of something, something powerful, something old that surrounded him and he held out his arms in a grand gesture that Erik recognized as nothing more than the actions of one so full of confidence, or trying to seem so, as to think themselves absolute and great. It made him dislike the being even more than he admittedly already did.

“I am called by your tongue Thoth, Egyptian god of sacred texts, of law, of mathematics, of science, I am the patron of the scribes, the master of knowledge, the recorder of deities. It is by divine right that I who would be allowed be given entrance to this place where such is held, a place of knowledge and power that I wish to enter to wait for the one I would bless with my power.”

No, Erik was right, this birdman, this Thoth, was indeed very self-important. But there was a soft sort of awe that came from meeting another god. He knew there were others, Nel had spoken of Odin and Zeus before though with the kind of distaste that felt similar to how he felt about La Carlotta for instance, but this was the first outside of his goddess that he had actually met. Even if this meeting was through a door. His credentials felt as if they were of interest to Erik, for as one who had lived so long in the darkness with his brilliance, the sciences and knowledge was something he greatly valued and had indulged in. If it wasn't for the general sense of distrust he felt for this being, the way he called Tsuki precious, acted as if he had a right to claim her, asked to be let in but it felt less a request and more demand, he might actually wish to speak to them more but as it was he did not not. He did not like this Thoth and he did not wish to let him enter.

“Be that as it may good monsieur, I still cannot allow you entrance without leave of it's owner,” Erik told him shaking his head despite knowing how useless it was to do so when the other party could not see him, “She is out and I am honored enough to be given refuge here; I would not insult or take advantage of her by allowing you inside when I have no right to.”

Thoth was angry. He had been angry for a while now but he was very angry now. The feathers ruffled more. The eyes seemed to glow. If a beak could frown this one did and if a bird head could glare this too it would do.

“What is your name?” The question, simple and clean as it was, ached in every word of something deep. Erik felt it in his bones and in some strange corner of his mind, the same corner that knew of awe and wonder at the realization of his travel through time. It tugged at him, it scared him. The Phantom of the Opera, terror of the Opera Populaire, was frightened by a mere four words but the way the god spoke them was dangerous. Very dangerous.

“Don't answer him.” The whispered words into his ear startled him, no less than because of who spoke them. He knew the sound of Tsuki's voice, soft and sweet, and he felt the tension and fear in him disappear slowly. Not entirely at once but gradually, turning to look at her and seeing her smile at him from one side of him. He was glad to see her but confused by why she was; was she and Nel back already? Had their task completed, groceries gathered and brought to the Library for their consumption later on? Was Nel then there close as well; this thought further put him at ease and he stared at Tsuki for a moment, seeing her continue to smile at him before turning to address the door.

“Thoth, how dare you ask such a thing of my friend here; he's still new to the ways of magic and this world, which I'm sure is exactly why you would do something like try to gain control of him by way of such magic,” she said and her tone was not gentle with Thoth; it was sharp and to the point, an authority and power he did not expect from such a small and sweet individual coming out with every word. A new side to his benefactor, something he felt more intrigued by than anything else.

“Darling Tsuki,” Thoth spoke and his voice had turned into a mixture of delight, surprise and admonishment; he was pleased by her, to speak to her, to have her be there. The god's all mighty attitude seemed to change in knowing the one he sought was so close and it was almost enough to make Erik feel sick.

There was a pause, awkward and Erik could have sworn he heard fluttering feathers once more before the god spoke again, “I simply wished to know who I spoke to; I gave my name after all, and you are the brilliant little moonshard who always says that one must be respectful and polite in giving your name when others give theirs.”

She sighed, quiet but so close to him, their bodies practically touching, he could hear it nevertheless. Tsuki glanced at Erik, a weaker more quiet smile taking the place of the sweet comforting one from. before, then returned her attention to the door, opening it. There was an obvious delight in Thoth's face as he gazed upon her, feathers shuffling in excitement, before taking in the man who he had been speaking to and Erik saw the expression change. Confusion. Distrust. The familiarity of disgust. Erik pulled down his hood more, frowning but felt a hand grab onto his and he recognized the warmth as Tsuki's. She squeezed thus he did too.

“I do not think I need to call Nel here do I? Because we know that is not the full truth,” she told him, simple as that.

“Oh him, lie? That would be unbecoming of a higher god such as him, surely.” Nel's tone as she appeared behind Thoth was sarcastic and almost amused sounding, especially as he seemed to jump and his whole body stiffen looking down at her. Nel had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, daring him with her expression to say something or try to argue her, something. It was unclear exactly what it might be but it was amusing nonetheless.

She continued as her hands moved to her hips and Erik heard Tsuki giggle beside him, squeezing his hand in hers. “And of course he did not specifically come during a time we were both out in hopes of sneaking into the Library to get a chance to speak to you before I could throw his birdy butt out or call Seshat to come get him.”

“Oh of course not,” Tsuki assured her friend shaking her head, “That doesn't sound like Thoth at all.”

Thoth cleared his throat, trying it seemed to retain some level of control in the situation. “Perhaps I should go.”

“Perhaps you should,” Tsuki said and he gave her what Erik guessed was a sad look, “Before Nel does call Seshat and your wife comes to give you a far worse scolding than we ever could.”

“Good evening dear Tsuki, Lady Nehalennia,” Thoth said and looked at Erik for a moment before bowing his head, “Sir.”

Erik was not sure if it was by wing or by some other method that the god left them though he thought he heard the sound of wings fluttering. He saw none though and one second the god was there and the next he was gone, leaving only Nel on their doorstep. The goddess looked less than amused now, glaring into the space that had preciously held Thoth before what suspiciously sounded like a German curse slipped past her lips and she turned to look at them. Her irritation turned to a smile and she walked closer to reach out and pat Erik on the head.

“You did well keeping him outside, Erik, thank you,” she told him.

“He unsettled me greatly,” he answered; he did not know about telling them why, how hearing him speak of Tsuki as if she could belong to him bothered him, reminded him but more than that angered him.

Tsuki once more squeezed his hand and he turned to look at her right as she leaned up to kiss his cheek. This startled and froze him in place, staring as she spoke, “I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Normally just about anyone is allowed inside who wishes to partake of the Library's knowledge but there are certain...individuals forbidden access. Mainly gods who have a particular obsessive interest in me in particular.”

“Somehow no matter how many times I warn them off and tell them they won't get it through their thick godly brains that you're under my protection,” Nel said frowning, “Entitled assholes the lot of them.”

“There are others like that?” Erik asked once he remembered what words were.

“I feel silly talking about it honestly,” Tsuki said with a sigh, “Like I'm bragging but yes. Gods like to take interest in humans who match their areas of expertise and especially to try to get them to become their followers or....more,” a light blush formed on her face, “Gods of magic and knowledge seem to be drawn towards me, Thoth being just the most aggressive about it often, though there's a few others....”

“Ami and her menagerie can go suck their undead mother's big toe for all I care,” Nel said her tone cold as ice, “They know what they did; they have no right to lay claim to you now.”

Tsuki looked at Nel with a sad sort of expression and the goddess bit her tongue. Erik didn't understand but got the sense of more secrets there. Fair enough, there were plenty to go through and he nodded. “I see, so there are others like that strange bird man who will come here.”

“Most don't show up as often as Thoth but yes,” Tsuki admitted, not looking at him, “Nel normally keeps them in bay; she's very good at that and even with the elder gods like Thoth she has her ways of making them turn tail and run like she just did.”

“I'll need to send a message to Seshat later, tell her her idiot of a husband tried tricking Erik and lying about it,” Nel grumbled and ran a hand through her hair before heading towards the house entrance, continuing to grumble about Thoth.

That reminded Erik and after watching Nel walk off for a second her turned to Tsuki. “You scolded him earlier about that, about trying to trick me?”

She nodded and sighed. “He tried to use word magic on you; if you had given him your name then he would have been able to control you. Most magic users need more than a name of course to do that but Thoth is a god of magic, and an elder god at that; he doesn't really need much more to do some serious damage. I'm glad I arrived when he did; if he had succeeded, if he had hurt you...”

Tsuki trailed off though now she did look at him and still was that sadness but something more. She squeezed his hand again and he felt like his heart was being squeezed again. Word magic, elder gods, gods of magic, he was only starting to get use to such strange language, such strange ideas, but he felt like it would have been like Faust giving in to sign the contract to Mephistopheles but without the benefits. Something in Thoth's words, his mannerisms, his very aura, gave the sense of someone who liked control, liked power and keeping things. The god would have used him to get to Tsuki and Erik would have hated that, hated the god and himself for it. Self important, pompous, the phantom could not even now shake the sense that he did not like the god and he could only nod in understanding, and in relief that indeed she had appeared in time to prevent such a thing, for her more than anything. Though the idea that to her it was more that he could have hurt Erik, that Tsuki cared if he was harmed, made his heart ache.

“I assume he would not or could not use such on you?” he asked after what felt like an eternity but was only likely a few seconds; the two started towards where Nel had gone, walking through the Library together after making sure the front door was closed once more.

“More the former than latter; I'm nowhere near powerful enough to be able to really resist an elder god like him but if he did use word magic on me it would defeat his purpose in trying to talk to me without Nel around,” Tsuki said smiling lightly, “Gods like him want to be given to willingly, they want to be wanted and to be worshiped by free will. To bind me like that would ruin that and would restrain the freedom of my own magic at the same time.”

The backroom was already lit when they came in and Nel could be heard putting things away in the main house. Erik found himself smiling hearing what Tsuki had to say, relieved. His own enslavement was one thing, an idea that disgusted and bothered him on too many levels to count, but he felt even more at ease knowing Thoth for all his apparent wanting to claim Tsuki would not stoop to such low tricks as what he had tried on Erik. The man would need to be careful, on guard and aware from now on when left to his own devices; walking back to help the goddess, to the comforting sensations of assisting and spending time with both women, he could not shake a small lingering concern in the back of his mind. That that would be fair from the last time someone would try such tricks or similar on him.

Perhaps it was time that the Phantom start to pull himself back together to return to being more on guard, if only so he may protect this fragile little peace he had with Nel and Tsuki.

[samwisethewitch]

Working with Spirits

In my last post, I talked about different types of spirits that witches may work with. Today, we’re going to discuss how to approach spirits and establish a working relationship.

Keep in mind that these are general guidelines, and every spirit is different. I encourage you to do your own research beyond this post, especially if you plan to work with powerful entities like deities, angels, or fairies.

Remember the Four R’s

It’s important to keep these things in mind when working with spirits:

Respect. The spirits are powerful, and you need to have a healthy respect for that power when working with them. It’s also important to respect them as individual, autonomous beings.

I’m not saying that every interaction you have with the spirits needs to be a full blown ritual with incense and chanting. (In fact, some spirits don’t care for those types of rituals.) But every interaction you have with them should be conducted with an air of respect and reverence.

What this mostly boils down to is good manners. Being polite will get you better results — and it will also keep you from being on the receiving end of spirit mischief. Proper etiquette depends on the type of spirit you’re working with, which is one reason it’s important to do your research. In general, it’s polite to make an offering, use respectful language, and thank the spirits before you leave (unless you’re dealing with fairies — some traditions say you should never thank the fae).

Respecting spirits also means respecting their desires — even if that means respecting their wish not to work with you. Not every spirit you reach out to will want to form a relationship with you, just like not every person you meet in your life will want to be your friend. When a spirit turns you down, respect their decision, politely bid them farewell, and move on.

Reciprocity. The goal of spirit work is to establish a mutually-beneficial partnership — not for one partner to serve the other. On one hand, this means that you can’t just command spirits to do your bidding without giving anything in return. On the other hand, it also means that you won’t be worshiping/honoring them without receiving some kind of boon.

This is why it’s important to make offerings to the spirits you work with. These offerings “feed” the spirits by giving them power, and a good offering will likely make a spirit more willing to work with you. Offerings are not payment for favors from spirits (it’s not quite that simple), but they are a sign that you intent to practice reciprocity in your relationship.

In general, it’s important to make an offering when you first introduce yourself to a spirit and again before you ask them for anything. But you shouldn’t only make offerings when you’re about to ask for something! How would you feel if you had a friend who only did nice things for you when they were about to ask for a favor? You’d probably start avoiding them, right? You might even get angry. To avoid this kind of dynamic in your spirit work, make regular offerings to the spirits you work with. If you’re especially close with a spirit, you may want to offer to them every day.

Relationship. The spirits are not vending machines where you put offerings in and blessings fall out. They are living, sentient beings with feelings, and deserve to be treated as such. Your relationship with the spirits you choose to work with is just that: a relationship. And like any relationship, it requires time, energy, and emotional labor.

If that sounds like more effort than you want to make, there are plenty of ways to do magic without ever working with spirits. You don’t need to do spirit work to be a witch. It may not be your thing, and that’s okay!

But if you choose to work with spirits, it’s important to remember that you are working with them as an equal partner — you’re not their boss, and they are not obligated to like you, help you, or even tolerate you. Relationships with spirits are built over time, through mutual respect and trust.

You wouldn’t drive up to your friend’s house, throw a fast-food burger at them, and then demand a special favor. Likewise, you shouldn’t just dump an offering on your altar and demand something of the spirits. Take the time to sit down with them. Talk to them. Get to know them. Put some thought into your offerings, instead of just offering the same thing every time. Spirit work is, at its core, about building an authentic relationship with the spirits we choose to include in our practice. Enjoy it.

Research. When it comes to spirits, it’s important to know exactly who (and what) you’re dealing with. As previously mentioned, the etiquette for dealing with fairies is very different from other land spirits. Different deities have different standards for their worshipers, which vary from one pantheon to the next. The way you interact with your ancestors will probably be shaped by their personalities, cultures, and values. All this is to say it’s important to know who you’re reaching out to, preferably before you reach out to them.

With deities, this is easy. Most witches who choose to work with deities will feel drawn to a certain pantheon, or even a specific god or goddess. There’s a lot of information out there about most historical pantheons, so researching them is easy. The same goes for angels, saints, demons, and even fairies.

It can be a little more difficult to do your research when you’re dealing with land spirits, spirits of place, or other less well-known figures. In these cases, it’s best to take three steps: 1.) figure out what type of spirit you’re dealing with (land spirit, animal spirit, ancestor, etc.), 2.) find out what this type of spirit is like generally, and 3.) find out how that applies to your specific spirit.

For example: you want to connect with your local land spirits. You do some research to find out how land spirits have been treated in various cultures — you find out that they’re typically benevolent, are closely tied to the natural landscape, and were often given food offerings. Then, you do some research into your local plants and animals — what form might a nature spirit take in your local environment? Would it be a huge moose with snow-covered antlers, or a magnolia tree in full bloom? Is there any local folklore in your area that could be describing a land spirit? Once you have answers to these questions, you’ll have a much better idea of how to approach the spirits and start up a relationship.

Initiating a Relationship with a Spirit

Begin by identifying who this spirit is. For example, let’s say you choose to reach out to a specific ancestor spirit — maybe a deceased grandparent. Make sure you’re familiar with the etiquette for interacting with this type of spirit so you don’t accidentally do something disrespectful. (If your Grandma hated cussing, try not to drop any f-bombs while communing with her.)

Create a special space to communicate with the spirit. This can be as simple as lighting a candle or as elaborate as setting up a special altar. If you’re reaching out to a grandparent, you might set up a small ritual space with a photo of them, any of their belongings that you have access to, and some things that they enjoyed while they were alive. These items may make the connection easier, but you don’t need them to communicate. What matters is that you’ve taken the time to create a special space for this moment. (Like all ritual spaces, it should be clean and tidy, and it’s a good idea to do an energetic cleanse beforehand.)

Make an offering. Make sure your offering is appropriate for the spirit you’re connecting to. Offerings should be made with an air of reverence — don’t just toss a bag of Doritos on your altar and expect it to be well-received.

Introduce yourself. Speak out loud. State your intention and who you are hoping to connect with.

Wait and listen. You may feel a presence or receive some kind of sign — or you may not. Just because you didn’t get a sign doesn’t mean that your offering wasn’t noticed or that you’re being ignored. You may also receive a sign several hours, days, or weeks after you first reach out. Be patient.

Say your farewells. Express your gratitude for the spirit’s presence, and let them know that you are ending your little ritual. It’s up to you whether to invite them to stick around or politely tell them to leave, but if you’re going to give a spirit permission to linger in your home you better be 1000% sure you know who they are and what their intentions with you are.

Moving Forward

As you work with this spirit, it is important to establish clear boundaries for the relationship. Be clear about what you want to accomplish by working with them, and make sure you understand what they expect from you in return.

You might want to establish a time limit: for example, maybe you’re choosing to work closely with the goddess Brigid from Imbolc to Samhain, at which point you can choose to continue the relationship or to take a step back. Or, you may choose to work with a spirit on a specific task — for example, working with the goddess Aphrodite to get back on your feet and rebuild your self esteem after a breakup. Once this task is accomplished, you may choose to form a more long-term relationship or to take a step back.

Forming a permanent or long-term working relationship with a spirit is a very big, very serious commitment, and should not be taken lightly. This goes double for anything involving a ritual commitment, such as dedication to a deity. When you make these commitments, you are choosing to make a spirit and their energy a permanent part of your life. This decision requires some very serious introspection and consideration, and should not be made impulsively.

Resources:

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

A Practical Heathen’s Guide to Asatru by Patricia M. Lafayllve

Where the Hawthorn Grows and The Morrigan: Meeting the Great Queens by Morgan Daimler

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

Azrael Loves Chocolate, Michael’s A Jock: An Insider’s Guide to What Your Angels Are Really Like and The Angel Code by Chantel Lysette

New World Witchery podcast (several episodes, including “Episode 164 — Irish Folklore and Magic,” “Episode 161 — Practicing Safe Hex,” and “Episode 152 — Honoring Ancestors”)

[robininthelabyrinth]

"The Untamed", but Jiggy has a white cat whom he tells everything.- May or may not be sentient or 'spiritual' like Fairy in the book. (From an idea I've thrown around with my friend @yraelviii)

ao3

He found the cat in Qinghe.

“What are you doing here?” Meng Yao said, crouching down to try to scoop out the little handful of white fluff underneath his cabinet only for it to bare its infantile fangs and him and hiss, moving its butt around as if it thought his fingers ought to be running in fear from its fearsome pounce. “How did you even get in here?”

The cat – a kitten, really, small and scrawny, dirty and covered in ashes as if it had just run out of a forge, but no less passionate for it – squirmed in his hand as he picked it up.

“Who owns you?” Meng Yao asked, and the cat hissed viciously as if to shout no one owns me!

Something about that echoed in Meng Yao’s heart – no one owns me, he thought – and so he fished up some extra meat from his plate, filled a small platter with water, and used the sleeve of an old outfit that needed to be taken to be laundered anyway to wipe the grey ash off of the cat’s white fur while it was distracted by sniffing suspiciously at the food and water that it ultimately declined to consume.

“Just this once,” he told it.

-

Doing good work will often only bring you more work, Meng Yao reflected, and so it was with the cat as much as with anything else. He still didn’t know how the cat managed to get into his rooms, and he sometimes dwelled on paranoid suspicions that there were hiding-holes in his chambers designed to allow others to spy on him, just as there had been in certain rooms in the brothel – though even at his worst moment of uncertainty and doubt he didn’t really think so. He knew that it wasn’t Nie Mingjue’s style even if Meng Yao had been someone important enough to care about, and anyway he didn’t question his own ability to discovery such a thing if it had really existed. He’d checked.

At any rate, however it kept getting into his rooms, the cat was now a regular presence there, lurking around.

It didn’t want to be petted and greeted all attempts to feed it with utter disdain, but despite its general standoffishness it seemed to like being in the same vicinity as Meng Yao, enjoying nothing more than to settle haughtily by the window in his room and watch over Meng Yao as if it thought he might get lost without its supervision.

Meng Yao thought it was probably someone’s pet gotten lost, or maybe even just a feral cat from outside (Qinghe had a fair number of them) that had figured out that it could access the good life by going inside, but it was very hard to sincerely worry over the ill-intentions of a cat, and he was already very busy.

If he didn’t need to care for it, then it wasn’t adding to his troubles. Let the cat sit where it liked!

Meng Yao had found that life in Qinghe was both different and similar to life in Yunping, the only life he had to compare it to, and it amused him to think of the great and righteous Nie sect as an overly large brothel, with the main difference being that they sold their strength where women sold their bodies. In both places there needed to be order, someone to sort things out and tell people where to put things and what to do; in both places Meng Yao, with his quick mind and excellent memory, his sense of understanding people and anticipating their needs, was utterly invaluable in arranging such things.

He had, admittedly, expected it to take a little more time to climb up to the top – the only person he couldn’t understand in this place was Nie Mingjue, who was far too easy to deceive and smiled at him like he really thought they were friends instead of just being master and servant, who appreciated his talents and told him so, who shrugged off his mistakes and had faith that he would do better, who ignored his status instead of lording it over him the way Meng Yao had expected him to. Even when he was angry, when he shouted and slammed his hands against things, Nie Mingjue never once mentioned Meng Yao’s background, and the only things he seemed to hold against him were his own mistakes.

Meng Yao still didn’t know why Nie Mingjue would act so rashly as to promote someone he had just met to a position as high as viceroy, much less actually trust him, but it didn’t really matter. However quixotic his method of reaching a place of power, he was here and his next task was to keep his place until he’d made a reputation for himself.

Part of that he did through his work, good critical work that people needed and which had always won him gratitude even if not respect, but the other part of it was in cultivation. That was the way in which the Nie sect was not like a brothel: you couldn’t just be clever, you couldn’t even just be beautiful - to be respected, you had to cultivate.

Not that wanting to cultivate was a problem for Meng Yao.

He’d always had a memory like a sponge and a body that obeyed his every wish, his childhood of mimicking the beautiful dances of his mother and her ‘sisters’ serving him well in transitioning to learning the sword even if he was years behind everyone else; his mother had bought a thousand fake cultivation manuals for him and he’d learned them all, each one of them more useless than the next, and now that he was here in the cultivation world at long last, he was finally, finally, finally able to cultivate for real.

Using Nie sect methods, of course, even if that wasn’t what he really wanted.  

He’d started as soon as he could when he arrived, endlessly grateful that the Nie sect provided training sabers without cost, and he’d snuck one away back to his room so that he could practice on his own time, knowing it would take a long time to form his golden core. He’d debated with himself for a long time as to whether or not it was worth it to invest in a real one – if the training sabers were free, then real proper Nie sabers were somehow three times as expensive as the swords you could buy in the marketplace, and you could only put in a deposit without any notion of when you’d actually get the saber, apparently subject to the contrary dispositions of the spiritual weaponsmiths that made them.

In the end he decided to go for it more or less on a whim, emptying out his hard-built savings to place the order, even though he knew he would one day need to discard whatever they made for him in favor of a sword.

The Jin sect would accept him one day. He would make them.

(If the Nie sect cultivation style was good for one thing, he thought as he went through endless drills of slashing and thrusting, it was that you could work out your anger while you were doing it. There was nothing quite like imagining the face of someone you hated and then bringing down the practice saber in a vicious slash, and oh, but Meng Yao hated so very many people.)

The cat liked watching him train most of all, although Meng Yao suspected it was because seeing him jump around panting was funnier than watching him sit at his desk and gracefully write out letters. It would occasionally start purring, a sound a little like a crackling fire, and eventually Meng Yao got into the habit of going to run his fingers through its fur as a reward for himself when he successfully completed a training sequence.

After a while, he started talking to it, too.

“That commander,” Meng Yao said as he brought the training saber down. His real saber was still on the order, probably stalled purposefully; the smith assigned the task was probably one of the people that thought they were too good to deal with him because of who his mother was, and it’d all been a waste of money in the end. Completely a waste, even if Nie Mingjue had smiled so happily at him when he’d heard about Meng Yao placing the order, his eyes warm and soft and how had that man survived so long in this wretched world of politics and pain, didn’t he know he would always be deceived and betrayed?

Why should he be the exception to the rule, when everyone else had to suffer?

Meng Yao threw away the unhelpful thoughts and thrust the saber forward, as if piercing his invisible opponent straight through the chest.

“That commander.” He minutely corrected his form and stabbed again, this time as if piercing through the belly: a gut wound, a slow and awful way to die. “He’ll regret what he said to me.”

The cat’s purring intensified.

Meng Yao briefly had the wild thought that it approved.

“I just –” Another thrust. “– need to figure out –” An overhead slash. “– how.”

-

Meng Yao ended up taking the cat with him when he left Qinghe.

It probably was someone’s pet and he was opening himself up to a charge of stealing, a charge he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against now that he no longer had Nie Mingjue’s protection –

(Nie Mingjue who had wept tears and blood at what Meng Yao had done, betrayed at last after having finally encountered a deception he could not swallow, who had banished him from the Unclean Realm even after everything Meng Yao had done for him – who had, despite it all, still hidden an entire bag of gold and Meng Yao’s favorite Qinghe snacks in Meng Yao’s things with a short note claiming that it was for unpaid wages. As if Meng Yao had ever let a single pay period go by without claiming exactly what he was due. As if Nie Mingjue still cared despite throwing him out, as if he worried about how Meng Yao might live, as if he hadn’t given up the privilege of caring about things like that – )

He didn’t really care.

He wanted the cat, so he took it. It was the least Qinghe could do for him.

The cat spent all its time in his new rooms in the hotels he stayed out as he traveled: in his bedroom and study, the little gardens that, when available, he liked to use to train in the mornings and evenings. It would even follow him when he took a bath (although that was with great reluctance on the part of the cat, and only if Meng Yao were taking an especially long time in the bath and the cat was worried he’d drowned, yowling angrily as if it could revive him through the power of its voice). If it had once belonged to someone else, it now belonged to Meng Yao, and Meng Yao didn’t give away anything that was his.

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” he said defiantly to the cat, which blinked at him from its side of the carriage he’d used some of the gold to rent. “It’s only that I don’t want to review them in order to think of which ones those might be.”

The cat got up, stretched its back, and walked over to butt its head against Meng Yao’s hand before turning and going back to its spot by the window.

Meng Yao wasn’t sure if that was a sign of agreement or if the cat just thought there was a treat in his hand. Not that the cat had ever accepted treats from his hand.

He still wasn’t sure what the cat ate, actually, but he was sure the cat would make its feelings known now that they weren’t somewhere with a dependable kitchen, though he supposed there was always the possibility that it would start picking up hunting.

“Wen Chao said that they’d aimed at the Cloud Recesses,” Meng Yao said, deciding not to dwell on the things of the past. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do about Nie Mingjue’s betrayed eyes or the snacks he hadn’t even known Nie Mingjue had known he’d liked, about the hand-me-down guans and trinkets that Nie Huaisang had insisted were part of his wardrobe when he’d helped him pack even though he knew Nie Huaisang still wore them sometimes, about the fact that he should have been ordered to take the Nie sect’s braids out of his hair when he passed by the gates for the final time since he didn’t deserve them anymore but the two disciples there had just nodded at him and let him pass without a word – nothing to do about the saber he’d ordered, still on the list to be made, and maybe if he made something of himself out in the world alone he would one day come back to claim it at last. “That’s where we’re going now. Lan Xichen might be in danger. I have to help him.”

The cat made a sound like it was considering hacking up a hairball.

“He was kind to me,” Meng Yao said, feeling defensive. “The only one who never judged me –”

Since he’d decided to forget about Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, wiping it out of his mind as if it had never been, that was even true.

“– and he’s a proper gentleman, a good man. I’ll help him.”

That Lan Xichen was also a powerful man was something he wished he didn’t think of, but he couldn’t help the way he was.

“After I help him, I’ll figure out what to do next,” Meng Yao said, like a liar, and the cat looked at him like he was stupid – which he was being, because of course he’d already planned out what to do next, figured out his next move, and there was no point in lying to a cat about it. Meng Yao had skills that were only useful in management, not labor, and the only thing he left to sell was information about the sect from which he’d just been ejected. “No one owns me, right? Let it be the Wen sect.”

The cat did not purr, but it didn’t condemn him, either.

That would have to do.

-

It was a good thing that Meng Yao’s cat was self-sufficient, he thought, because he had neither the time nor the stomach to feed it during his time at the Wen sect.

If he had thought he had worked hard at the Nie sect, he now knew differently: at least there the worst he had faced from his colleagues had been disdain and not outright murder attempts, back-stabbing and undercutting to try to show off to Wen Ruohan, and all the while the man himself demanded more and more from him without the slightest care for his own well-being. He was grist to the mill for Wen Ruohan, no matter how much the Chief Cultivator enjoyed having another man’s prized deputy as his own – Wen Ruohan might had been very nearly driven insane by the Yin Metal, but he still remembered old grudges – and it was night and day away from Nie Mingjue’s reliance on him that was based on trust, rather than reluctantly satisfied suspicion and paranoia.

Meng Yao had hidden the cat as best as he could from the start, thinking rightfully that people would try to use it against him, and to his relief it seemed that no one else had yet laid eyes on it and identified it as his own, despite its white fur standing out like a beacon to his sight. Unfortunately there were some people that had managed to figure out that he had a cat, even if they didn’t lay eyes on it themselves, and he’d had more than a few incidents in which someone had left poisoned meat out on the floor by his room in order to catch it.

The cat seemed as unimpressed with that as anything else.

Instead, the cat seemed to have taken up hunting as its pastime. It brought back the corpses of small birds, the Yin Metal-infused little spies, full of resentful energy, that Wen Ruohan had developed for his sons to use. At first Meng Yao worried about the cat getting somehow poisoned by them, but time went on and it seemed to be fine, even thriving. It had grown into a proper cat now, no longer a kitten, and it enjoyed licking its white and shining fur until it was gleaming.

It didn’t like Meng Yao’s training sessions as much – he trained with a sword now, two-faced just like him, and in a dozen different styles, Wen and Jiang and Jin, always Jin – so sometimes Meng Yao would go back to doing the old Nie sect style again, knowing the cat would recognize the familiar movements, and it was a surefire way to get the cat to purr.

The Nie sect style was also still the best for getting out anger, all aggression and sharp movements, and Meng Yao still had a lot of anger inside of him. He was starting to think he always would.

At least here in the Nightless City he could kill the people he hated, as long as he did so in low and dirty ways that didn’t trouble Wen Ruohan or interfere with his plans, and yet every time he did it, he felt no relief, only a vile and wretched stickiness that came, perhaps, from that awful Yin Metal that he had schemed over yet couldn’t seem to escape.

The cat didn’t like the Yin Metal one bit. It hissed and scratched, and in one notable incident seemed like it was going to pounce on it directly if Meng Yao hadn’t caught it mid-leap and shoved it into his sleeve before anyone had noticed it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Meng Yao told the cat next time he trained, using the soft sword he’d hidden away for a time of need to hack and slash in the Nie way, which didn’t work with a soft sword at all but which made him feel strangely better. He was currently imagining Wen Ruohan’s head underneath a saber, his head and the heads of all those corpse puppets he’d created. “I will cut you loose if you do that.”

The cat rolled onto its back and showed its soft and fluffy belly, which only the truly unwise would seek to lay a hand on – Meng Yao still had scars – and Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “No one owns you, not even me. But do me a favor and don’t screw this up for me. Not when I’m so close.”

Lan Xichen had been accepting his letters and feeding them to Nie Mingjue, who trusted as blindly as he ever did. Meng Yao wished sometimes that he didn’t, that he would learn, that he would put some defenses up on that stupid reckless heart of his, but on the other hand it suited his plans very well that he didn’t.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

Soon he’d know what he needed to do.

-

“Now he chooses not to trust people,” Meng Yao complained to his cat. “Now. Now!”

The cat purred.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao (damnit, Jin Guangyao, he had a new name, he was Jin Guangyao now) couldn’t understand Nie Mingjue’s reluctance to trust him – fool me once, fool me twice, but three times seemed to be the other man’s breaking point – and in some ways he understood it more than ever now that he had been accepted back by the Jin sect, clothed in the gold he’d always deserved to wear.

Jin Guangshan hadn’t lost much in the war, not like the other sects, and the second it was over he was already scheming. Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – was pulled right into the thick of it at once, less for his spying capability than for his sheer disposability, the fact that Jin Guangshan wasn’t willing to burden his pure and righteous heir with black matters that he was more than happy to taint the son of his whore with. With Nie Mingjue, general and hero of the Sunshot Campaign, representing the only real threat to the Jin sect’s domination, even if he didn’t want to be, Jin Guangyao was bound to be in opposition to him.

It made sense for Nie Mingjue not to trust him.

It irritated him regardless.

Still, lack of trust or no, Nie Mingjue had succumbed to Lan Xichen’s impassioned arguments and had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, even if Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue’s primary motivation was to keep a better eye on him and scold him the way he did Nie Huaisang. It would be politically beneficial to Jin Guangyao to be tied in such a way to Nie Mingjue – it would suit his own desires as well, though that was less important – and so he had of course agreed as well, and he was planning on going to their oath ceremony in the outfit he had chosen for himself, gold from neck to foot, a sword he’d taken from the treasury since no one would order him one of his own, and a hat on his head like the ones his mother so admired to make up for his lack of height and to hide the Nie sect braids he still habitually wore underneath.

An old habit, and one he really ought to break, really. Ideally before Nie Mingjue figured it out and told him to cut it out.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar pounding, and the cat looked up, intrigued, even as Jin Guangyao sighed voicelessly to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long.

Perhaps it would be better to make a clean cut in this way, too.

He opened the door.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted, thinking to himself that it would only be a few more hours before he was entitled to call the man da-ge as if they were nearly equals and how strange that would be. “Can this humble one help you?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue asked gruffly, his eyes lingering on Jin Guangyao’s uncovered and Nie-braided hair, just as he might have expected. Had expected.

Jin Guangyao nodded and stepped back, allowing him in, and closed the door behind him. “Could I get the sect leader some refreshments?” he asked politely, but Nie Mingjue seemed to have come to a stop right in the entranceway, surprise written all over his features. “Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue was staring at Jin Guangyao’s cat.

“…Sect Leader Nie?”

Did Nie Mingjue not like cats? There were an endless number of feral cats in Qinghe, so it seemed implausible, and yet, here Nie Mingjue was, looking at the cat like he’d never seen such a thing before in its life.

Of course, at that exact moment, Jin Guangyao’s cat, the traitor, hopped off its pillow and went straight to rub itself against Nie Mingjue’s leg, purring like a little maniac.

Jin Guangyao stared at it, feeling thoroughly betrayed by what he would have previously said was his thoroughly unsociable cat, who had taken years to warm up to him enough to give him half the attention it was now bestowing freely on Nie Mingjue. Was this the heavens deciding to mock him for his earlier betrayals?

Alternatively, Nie Mingjue might just be very good with cats, which Jin Guangyao could believe. Perhaps he even carried in his pockets some of the Qinghe vine that cats were said to be so enamored of, although certainly Meng Yao’s cat had never once before shown an interest in such things before.

“…what’s its name?” Nie Mingjue croaked, voice hoarse. He was still staring fixedly at the cat, looking as though his entire world had shattered around him. He hadn’t even looked so unsettled when Jin Guangyao had so viciously mocked him at the Nightless City, and at the time he’d thought he was going to die and be turned into a corpse puppet to murder all his loved ones.

Jin Guangyao was tempted to say something rude or facetious, something like ‘I just call it Cat, why, do you name random cats?’, but the cat had been a good companion of his for a long time now and he couldn’t do that to it, even if he was currently planning on taking an extra long bath to force the cat to miserably linger by the door to the bathing room, screeching in unhappiness at the wet, but bravely (if grumpily) supervising him to make sure he didn’t drown.

“Hensheng,” he said, because that was in fact what he’d named it – it meant hatred for life, which was not exactly an auspicious name but which had stuck from the very moment he had thought it up – and waited to hear Nie Mingjue’s judgment. “It’s not normally quite so sticky,” he added in an attempt to save some face. “With most people.”

“Well, it’s me, that’s different,” Nie Mingjue said, and maybe the man really was just the human incarnation of the plant cats liked so much. Meng Yao really wouldn’t put it past him. “You...you cultivate in the Nie sect style? Still?”

Jin Guangyao blinked, surprised by the change in subject.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. He cultivated many styles now, although it was always the Jin sect style when he was in public. But he still had all the anger in his belly to vent – even more so now than before, anger at his father, anger at Madame Jin, anger at his brother born to a blessed life, anger at all those disciples that sneered at him even after he’d been legitimized, anger, anger, anger – and the Nie sect style had always been the best for that.

And anyway, it made the cat purr.

“Is that a problem, Sect Leader Nie?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Nie Mingjue said, and when he turned to look at him his eyes were warm and soft the way they’d been all the way before the fiasco with Xue Yang, shimmering with tears of joy and a smile that seemed to come straight from his heart, the foolish easily deceived man. It was so unexpected that Jin Guangyao actually took a full two steps back, his jaw dropping a little. “I’m happy for you. Very happy.”

He actually wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, dashing away the tears.

“You should come back to the Unclean Realm to pick it up when the brotherhood ceremony is done,” he added nonsensically. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been waiting for you.”

“…what?” Jin Guangyao said. “Pick up what?”

“Hensheng,” Nie Mingjue said, which – what? “Your saber. Hensheng.”

His saber?

The saber he’d never gotten, having been banished from the Unclean Realm before the order was finished, the one he’d spent all his savings on just in putting in the deposit, the one he’d never actually finished paying off? He remembered it, of course, and sometimes it still itched under his skin that he’d never gotten what he was owed because everything that was owed to him he deserved to get in the end. But…

“Hensheng is my cat,” he said.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “That’s not a cat,” he said. “That’s a saber spirit.”

Jin Guangyao’s gaze dropped down to the cat.

The cat that never seemed to eat anything or drink anything, that never once fell for the poisoned meat or accepted his offers of treats, that no one in the Nightless City had ever seen with their own eyes; the cat that could consistently get into his rooms despite there being no holes for it to enter, as if it had simply passed through the walls like a ghost.

Like a spirit.

The cat, which purred whenever Jin Guangyao practiced the Nie sect forms, swinging a saber with rage in his heart.

The cat to which he had confessed all his anger, all his frustration, all his rage, all the feelings he never gave to any human being around him – the sabers of the Nie sect thrived on such emotions, those feelings that encouraged them and strengthened them, developing the saber spirits that made each one of them a spiritual weapon unlike any other, with power and rage infused into the very blade.

Saber spirits, which only those born into the Nie sect or adopted early, raised in their ways, one of them, could form.

“A saber spirit?” Jin Guangyao said weakly, and his knees suddenly didn’t seem strong enough to hold him; he swayed and Nie Mingjue stepped forward quickly, catching him by the shoulders to steady him. “I cultivated a saber spirit?”

“The saber is back in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Mingjue said, not without kindness. “It was only ever waiting for you to pick it up once you developed the spirit, so that you could introduce the two.”

“It hasn’t been – I would have thought it would have been thrown away, or repurposed –”

“It’s a Nie saber, Meng Yao. It won’t obey anyone else ever again, not in this life; it is yours, yours alone. When one day you die, it will be buried with honor in our saber halls, just like all the others.”

The cat looked up at him and purred.

No one owns me, Jin Guangyao thought – the first thing the cat had said to him, and he’d always had a good understanding of what the cat wanted from the very first. No one had owned that wild spirit then, but it had stayed by his side, at first from curiosity and later from habit, and it was his now.

His, and no one else’s.

“Will you come pick it up?” Nie Mingjue asked, hope in his eyes. “Will you come home, if only for a little while?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said. “Yes, I will.”

-

Later, Jin Guangshan told his son to kill Nie Mingjue, that fool who trusted too much and didn’t know when he was being deceived, finding him in his rigidity and righteousness too much of a burden on the power he planned to wield.

Jin Guangyao bowed as deep as he could, a smile on his lips, saying nothing, and the next day, when Jin Guangshan went to the brothel as he always did, drinking tea served by his son the way he always did, he never did figure out why his heart had stopped.

(The saber Jin Guangyao began to wear openly after the funeral – a gift from his sworn brother, he said with a smile, in remembrance of his time at the Nie sect – purred in pure satisfaction.)

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.” 

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of  competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have 

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.“ After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been! 

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But i’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. -  Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓤𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓔𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂 (𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷)

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)× 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐴𝑈, 𝑉𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝐸𝑟𝑎 𝐴𝑈.

𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛: "𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑒. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑒, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑: 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒."- 𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝐸𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦: 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑟

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.4+𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑢𝑛𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @brie02 @deja-vux @galaxteez @yunhoiseyecandy @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

~May 17th, 1859~

When their eyes met it was as if time had effectively stopped moving. The sharply dressed male stood immobile by one of the pillars across the ballroom, feet glued to the floor and unable to pick themselves off it. Likewise, the elegant and ethereal lady sitting at one of the tables looked just as mesmerized by him as he was enchanted by her. For a while both of them just stood there, admiring one another as they tried to comprehend what was that tugging sensation they began to feel in the middle of their chests. The chatter and music in the background faded, their ears no longer registering any sound, scent, or object around them. Even their vision blurred everyone else, the only clear image they saw was the person they were currently fixated on.

As if he was in a trance, the male managed to regain his sense of control and began walking towards where she was. As their distance started to get smaller, the pounding in their hearts became more agitated and rapid, their lungs desperately trying to grasp air. When he stood right in front of her, a sense of calmness fell upon them that was even more strange to them given that they had never been acquainted with each other nor had any connections between them. Placing one arm behind him while the other came up just below his chest, he bowed to her, letting her glimpse and admire the top of his head, his hair as golden as the rays of the sun that would shine through her slightly parted curtains during the sunrises. Since she was sitting down, she acknowledged his greeting by lowering her head in a respectful manner. Coming back up, the hand that was placed behind him outstretched towards her.

"If my lady is not otherwise engaged, may I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?"

Unable to reject him, partly due to etiquette but mostly because something pushed her to accept, she smiled sweetly at him.

"You may kind Sir."

As soon as their hands connected, a rush of sparks flowed through their bodies, the feeling so electrifying and magnetic, it became more intense when he placed one arm around her waist while hers found a resting spot on his shoulder. Their other hands intertwined themselves together, their fingers perfectly molding against one another, a rather improper gesture to do at a ball especially between two individuals who had absolutely nothing to tie them together, but neither of them cared. It felt proper and necessary, even more so as their bodies glided across the floor, dancing in tune to the orchestra's music.

"I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of seeing you before my lady." He suddenly spoke up, voice slightly buffering with nervousness.

Luckily she either didn't notice or chose not to care about it.

"No I'm afraid not. Such a pity if you ask me, you seem like a lively and agreeable person to be around." Although she had always been encouraged not to judge by outward appearances, she could not fathom the gentleman right in front of her to have any sort of evil or fault in him. He was beautiful, his features so sharp and his eyes although looking so mysterious and deadly seemed to hold so much tenderness and frailty in them. Despite his strong and bold looking frame, she could tell he was a man of delicate emotions and gentle feelings. No alarms or voice in the back of her head were warning against him, instead they were silenced as her heart urged her to stay by him and with him.

"And you seem like a lady seeking adventure and freedom." He boldly stated.

She quirked an eyebrow up, puzzled at how he could possibly ascertain such a theory.

"And may I ask what makes you say that?"

Lips curling into a smile, she swore she could melt when tiny dimples appeared on each of his cheeks, a true rare beauty that one hardly saw in those times and were very much admired.

"I look into your eyes and I see yearning, longing for something. As if you are searching for a hidden gem. And there's a hint of gloominess in them as well."

His description shocked her to the core. How could this perfect stranger, whose name she still had not known, possibly see all of that from just a few minutes of interaction?

"Do I look that forlorn?" She began to worry about anyone else being able to see what he saw.

"No...... I guess you could say I just...felt it." His eyes held a lively sparkle in them that just seemed to captivate her even more.

He hesitated to speak out what was on his mind, but seeing as the music was about to come to an end, he knew he had to say it before it was too late.

"If it's all right with you, would you mind if I came to call at your house and be introduced to your parents?" A faint pink hue spread across his cheeks and even his straight nose had a rosey tint at the tip of it.

Although she was no stranger to having young men call for her in hopes of establishing a courtship, it was the first time she was actually excited and looking forward to any future meetings with the man in front of her.

"I'd be delighted if you wished to do so." Her smile was more dazzling than all the glimmering chandeliers that decorated the ceiling and it made her dance partner feel more at ease to know she was just as jolly about a possible acquaintance as much as he was.

As soon as the music ended, they properly bowed to each other but the male, even himself unsure of what came over him, took hold of her hand and held it up to his lips, placing a feather light kiss to the tips of her fingers which left quite a few shocked faces on those who were close enough to witness the act.

"Consider this as our formal meeting my lady."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

August 23rd, 1859

The pair walked side by side across the pastured fields, bright and vivid dahlias acting as their chaperones, all arrayed in either red, yellow or purple coats that had already bud into full bloom. The river nearby had tiny ripples flowing through it due to the light breeze that was refreshing during a rather warm summer day. Behind them, her home was still bustling with excitement and anticipation of what was going to come, hence why they allowed the couple to wander outside by themselves, fully trusting them to maintain propriety. Ahead of them, a vast expanse of trees were to serve as witnesses for such a joyous occasion.

Gazing over at his loving companion whom he had learned to cherish and care about immensely in the short time they've spent together, he felt his hand shake as he touched the side of his pants, feeling the weight of the small black case he was hiding in his pocket.

"You are on edge." Her sudden statement startled him.

"Once more you hit the nail straight on the head." He chuckled, his hands going back to their previous position of staying behind him.

"Do you trust me enough to tell me about it or would you rather we pretend I didn't say anything?" She offered.

Hearing his footsteps suddenly halt, she too stopped walking. Facing over to him, she couldn't read his expression as he had lowered his face, no doubt thinking about how to proceed about with the conversation.

"May I ask......how do you feel about me?"

She was not prepared for that question and yet she had hoped to one day be asked just that. She didn't even need to think too hard, she knew the answer to that already.

"I believe you to be a very kindhearted, caring, and vibrant sort of fellow. And I am extremely grateful to be able to have you in my close circle of friends."

Although he was happy that she felt joy in his company, he felt a little saddened and worried about her use of the term 'friends'. But pushing past his fears, he gathered his courage to speak his next words.

"And have you ever wondered if there's a possibility of us becoming closer than just friends?" He looked at her with in a hopeful daze.

He could sense, feel her uneasiness. It seemed as if their emotions were so intertwined that whatever one was feeling, the other would soon get a notion of it. And right now, he could feel how she slightly panicked at his suggestion.

"If it displeases you, please just let me know right now and I swear I'll not make you uncomfortable with anymore talk of-"

"I would love for nothing more than to be more than friends with you." She didn't want to be rude and interrupt him like so, but she found she could not control herself. Her fingers fidgeted with the lace trimming of her dress, agitation clearly shown in her countenance.

"From the very first moment I saw you, I felt this strange and utterly overpowering attraction towards you, as ridiculous as it sounds. And having come to know you, I was ready to say yes the minute you asked for my hand if the moment ever came...."

She paused to collect her thoughts, taking in a deep breath.

"But at the same time I'm afraid. I know, because I was raised as such, that women are brought up to be good wives, be docile, pliant, obedient and stand behind their husbands and do what society expects of them. And I don't know if I can do that...no... I don't want that. To be locked up in some beautiful golden cage for the rest of my life, with no freedom and my liberty stripped away from me...... I'd go mad." She admitted, immediately turning away from him, not wanting to see his reaction to what some would consider her brazen speech.

"So if what you are seeking is a wife who will be content to sit at home and wait for your every command I suggest you go look somewhere else. I refuse to be that sort of woman, even if it means becoming a spinster for the rest of my life." Her last words got choked up due to tension rising in her voice as she fought back tears, not wanting to cry in front of him.

She felt him right behind her and did not flinch when one of his hands came forward to caress the smooth skin of her cheek.

"My pretty little dove....don't you know that's why I wanna marry you?"

She turned her head to look at him with incredulous eyes.

"Remember when we first met? When I talked about how you seemed to be searching for freedom? Adventure?"

She nodded, never able to forget how she felt the first time they glanced upon another nor the conversation they had. Taking a hold of her waist, he shifted her position so she could face him and see how in earnest he was.

"I'm willing to offer you all that and more. I don't want you walking behind me, I want you by my side as my equal. I won't ever lock you up in a cage. On the contrary, I want my little dove to spread her wings and soar up further than the heavens........ and I want to be by her side to see it."

Her hands came up to clasp around her mouth as she let out a sharp gasp when he suddenly dropped down on one knee. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a black velvet box that contained a stunning ring inside.

"I've already asked for your parent's permission, all I gotta ask now is if you'd make me the happiest man alive and accept to spend life by my side.... and love me?"

She allowed him to take her hand and slide the gem onto her ring finger, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling softly, she took her hand off her mouth to reveal an emotional and awkward smile as a wave of emotions took over her.

"Yes!"

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Sprinting back up, he picked her up and spun her around gleefully. Once he put her down, his hands cupped her face and he leaned in to give her a passionate kiss. Even after pulling away, he still kept her at a close distance.

"I love you.....from now until eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

October 9th, 1861

"You sure you're going to be ok?"

Pushing her hat out of the way so she could look down at her doting husband who was standing right next to the open carriage, she couldn't help but give him a mischievous smirk.

"I'll be fine. I should be the one asking you that."

He gave her a puzzled look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"That I give you 10 minutes before you're moping by the fireplace, missing me to no end." She snorted softly at his pouty expression.

"You're actually wrong..."

Hopping on top of the step so it could be easier to reach her, he nuzzled his nose against hers.

"I'm already missing you and you haven't even left yet."

She giggled at his cheesiness, allowing him to press a tiny kiss on her lips, which was then followed by another one, then another, until she finally had to push him off before he delayed her trip any further by peppering more kisses across her face.

"All right all right, I get it. I'll be back before supper, it's not that long of a ride to my parents house. Think you can wait until then?"

He shook his head negatively, which made her roll her eyes.

"Well you're going to have to deal with it."

Bending down, she gently stroked some of the hairs that were tussled against his forehead.

"I love you." She smiled at him.

Taking her hand to place a kiss on top of it, her husband never took his eyes off her.

"I love you too. Please stay safe."

With longing eyes, he watched as the carriage was being hauled away in the direction of the woods that surrounded the estate. He didn't look away even minutes after the carriage was out of sight, watching as some of the white flowers fell from the immense trees, petals scattering across the pavement and on the freshly cut grass. Something about the way the flowers fell sent some sort of uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he chose to ignore it, thinking it was probably nothing.

Making his way back in the house, he suddenly stopped when the same feeling crept back up to him, this time more intense than the previous one. His palms which were tightly clenched behind him, were sweating profusely. His heartbeat making more agitated and there was an unusual pounding resonated in his head, that although didn't exactly hurt, it was sending off alarms. He could sense that something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.....

With a sharp intake of breath, he raced over towards the stables where all the horses were kept. Unlocking the door that held his personal horse, he didn't even bother to saddle up or even put a bridle on him. He simply jumped up and threw his leg over the horse, who stood in place to allow his trusted master to get properly seated.

"Go!" He exclaimed as he gently yet firmly kicked the horse on its side, the stallion immediately taking off in the direction that the carriage had gone, the rider hoping and praying that he was only being delusional about the strange sensation that was striking fear in him.

Meanwhile, not far off in the distance, the young lady quietly sat in the carriage, listening to the conversation her two drivers were having amongst themselves, sometimes even laughing at any jokes they cracked along the way. She looked very peaceful, looking forward to paying her parents a small visit, the presents she had purchased for them rattled against her side, all neatly wrapped in white with light blue ribbons decorating them. Her eyes would often drift away whenever she heard the rustling sounds the tiny woodland creatures would make or when a bird would start chirping a little tune.

She was startled abruptly by the sound of gunshots and before she could even ask what was going on, she watched in horror as the two men in front of her fell to ground, blood pouring out from their heads as their soulless eyes stared back into her. The horses were going berserk, letting out loud neighs while fretting about uncontrollably. Standing up, she carefully maneuvered herself and got off the carriage hoping to hop on the driver's seat and regain control of the horses, but she was stopped when a strong hand gripped her wrist and harshly tugged her back.

"You're a really pretty thing." She stared up into the cold eyes of a marauder who scanned her face before looking at his partner.

"How much do you think they'll give us for selling her off to a whorehouse?"

His accomplice shrugged nonchalantly.

"Beats me, but I guess we're going to find out."

Not backing down without a fight, she kicked her arms and legs as much as she could, putting up an intense struggle against her kidnappers. She made sure to scream at the top of her lungs, hoping it would reach someone's ears and come aid her. She nearly freed herself when she hit one of them right in the jaw and bit harshly down on the other's arm which was draped across her neck. She could only take two steps before she was being manhandled once more. She elbowed and kneed at the man, trying to break free from his grasp. Getting frustrated and fed up by her struggle, he took out the pistol he kept by his belt.

"You fucking bitch!"

Pressing the barrel against her stomach, the bullet pierced straight through her, making her choke on the scream she was about to release. Her senses went numb, all she could feel was pain as she felt her life being stripped out of her body.

"No!"

Arriving just as the bullet was fired, her husband swiftly yanked out his own gun. First he made sure to aim at the one who had just shot his beloved wife, the bullet striking him right on his forehead, giving him an instant death. When his partner tried producing his own weapon, the rider was already two steps ahead as he shot him straight through his throat, this time the death was more painful and elongated, but eventually he too met the same fate as his dead companion. Quickly getting off the horse, he ran over to his wife, tears already brimming down his face. Taking a hold of her hand, he first made sure that she still had a pulse and was conscious.

"Love. Darling. It's ok, you'll be ok. All right? Just stay with me, keep your eyes open."

She could feel him rip off a part of her dress and use it as makeshift gauze to press against her wound in an effort to stop some of the bleeding. She could not bring herself to cry, she had no strength left in her to do that. Still she managed to bring one of her hands up to clasp one of her husband's hands.

"I love you.......I always will..." Her voice came out rather raspy and strangled.

Knowing what was happening, her husband began to cry even harder, his arms desperately clutching onto her.

"No! Don't say that my little dove! You're going to be fine! Trust me." He seemed to be saying that more to himself than her, trying to convince himself that this was not real, that it was only a nightmare that they'd get through with together.

But she had already resigned herself to her fate. Knowing she had no time left, she reached up to cup one of his cheeks, her thumb stroking his skin softly.

"Remember.....we'll meet again someday..... I loved you now....and I'll love you in another life."

With one last faint smile, she held her final breath before her head fell back, eyes closing as her spirit left her body. Her lover's body trembled erratically, eyes scrunching tightly, teeth clenched so fiercely they could nearly break apart by his sheer strength. He clung his soul mate's lifeless body against his own, sobbing violently against her neck. Looking up, he let out a heartwrenching and agonizing scream that echoed across the forest.

Part of him died that day just like the love of his life.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

~April 15th, 2019: Present Day~

"Man...that is one sad, depressing story."

One of the members of the group sighed out as his other mate read out the history behind the beautiful and seemingly enchanting forest that they were currently touring across.

"I know right? To think that such a tragic love story occurred right here." One of the taller members said, stepping carefully around the branches that were scattered about the field.

"Enough of this romantic soulmate nonsense, how long is this trail anyways? I'm tired, I'm sweating, it's hot and I'm hungry. Which one of you guys decided it was a good idea to go into nature and explore it? Especially with all these bugs around." The nagging individual slapped his arm once more, killing off another mosquito that seemed to take a liking to his blood.

While all of them continued on ahead, forming pairs or simply admiring the view alone with their phones to capture memories, the lonely member all the way in the back kept his head down. His cat like eyes often looked around, taking in some small details that hardly anyone paid attention to. Brushing some of his black bangs away from his eyes, he felt some sort of nostalgic feeling as he walked along the semi even path laid out for tourists like them. He stopped in his tracks when he came to a particular spot. Looking to his right side, he saw a very narrow off trail that led into the more dense and deep part of the forest. Although his mind told him to stay on the trail so as to not get lost, he found some strange force pulling him in the opposite direction. Without even second guessing it, he wandered off, not caring about if his group mates saw him or not.

As he past all the trees, shrubs and even the tiny squirrels and butterflies that still inhabited those regions, he couldn't shake off the deja vu feeling that fell over him. He strangely felt familiar with his surroundings, even though he was kilometers away from his home country. As he made a sharp turn to avoid hitting against a wide tree, an image suddenly flashed in his head. A galloping horse, the rider, whose face he couldn't see, passing right by where he just past.

"Weird..." He brushed it off, thinking that perhaps the rays of the sun were starting to get to him.

As he came upon a more wider path, he stopped immediately at a certain spot. Another image seemed to pass through his mind, although more blurred, he could faintly make out a silhouette of a man holding onto the body of a woman. Just as soon as it came, it soon vanished. He didn't understand why, but standing right on that spot seemed to cause him pain. Indeed he could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he had absolutely no idea why.

"God what is wrong with me?" He thought as he wiped them away, perhaps he was being extra emotional or something, especially after hearing that story about the forest.

A snapping branch made him aware that someone else was approaching where he was. Looking up in the direction, he felt his breath being taken away as two [insert color] eyes were locked on him. He couldn't even blink, he just continued to stare at the figure standing mere feet away from him. The same energy that pulled him in that direction was suddenly making him pull his feet off the ground and make their way towards the person. He had never seen them before in his entire life and yet.....

He felt as if he knew them, his heart feeling some sort of longing and aching for them. And he could sense that the other person was feeling the exact way he was, for they too were taking careful steps toward him, keeping eye contact with him. Soon they both stood right in front of each other, both had mesmerized expressions as they studied the person in front of them. Without knowing what caused him to do that, the male reached a hand out towards his partner, which she did not hesitate to hold in her own. A wave of shock ran through both of their bodies when they touched, their emotions suddenly burning with passion and love that only grew stronger as their fingers clasped against each other. Swallowing hard, the male decided it was time to speak up.

"Hi..... my name is Choi San."

The woman smiled at hearing his voice. Even though it was the first time she heard it, she knew it, it was oddly familiar.

"I'm Y/N L/N." She responded.

Neither of them flinched away, they simply continued to stare at one another. Although strangers, they felt as if they knew each other for centuries. Unable to help himself, San lowered his face so he could press his forehead against hers.

"It sounds insane..... but I feel I love you." He confessed, his lips brushing against hers.

She let out a soft hum at his statement.

"Then I guess we're both insane, because I feel like I love you as well."

Closing the gap between them, San cupped one cheek with his hand, giving her the faintest whisper of a kiss. The feeling was so raw and so endearing that it sent a warm sensation to their hearts. When they pulled away, his arm snaked around to wrap around her waist.

"It's like we were destined to be."

She chuckled at his words before finishing his sentence.

"Yes....you and I.....

Until eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

What’s your opinion for Leo’s reaction to finding out the mc was immortal as well- not necessarily a vampire, maybe they’re some other type of supernatural. I’m really curious because Leo seems like he’s mainly in love with the mc bec they are human.

Hi lovely!!! Always wonderful to see you, hope you’re well! 💛💛💛💛💛

Tbh I think my opinion remains the same about something like this? I'm going to link to an ask I wrote up a while ago, only because it's v pertinent to the subject matter and good background for what I’m going to expand on here.

That being said, I'm happy to kind of tl;dr/expand on what I talked about there. Basically I had the feeling that Leonardo choosing MC as a lover was more circumstantial--regarding the state of his life in the moment, regarding his general feelings about vampires and vampire society, and regarding his unresolved trauma as a young kid.

I guess my answer to that question--and forgive me if it seems like a cop out--is that it really depends, I feel? I think his attraction has a lot more to do with the kind of person somebody is, their sensibility, more than it has to do with mortal vs immortal. If it was an immortal MC that showed ridiculous fortitude and self-control, measured patience and maturity, I really don’t see him not noticing that? I think he would be wary at first (assuming it’s all a front) but with time would likely feel a great deal of love if they were interested in a life together. If they were able to see and understand what he needs and answered those needs, I guess I just really doubt his ability to say no. It’s all he’s really looking for, and the fact that he hasn’t found it after so long really speaks to his frightened evasiveness and the rare nature of that kind of unshakeable strength.

I also think a lot of his hinging away from purebloods (true immortals, in other words) is that he 100% does not want his familia having any involvement in his meaningful relationships. Which might be why he shows more acceptance towards turned vampires, or potentially different supernatural beings.

But I also don’t like giving a vague answer without some kind of explanation as to how I got, to that conclusion, so a boatload of analysis follows below the content warning.

Spoilers for Leonardo’s route and a few mentions of JPN ver content:

I think he has less of an obsession with the idea of mortality, and more like a constant association of goodness and freedom and maturity with humanity. And while it's understandable, there are signs that--when he has the proper time and space to heal--his views seem to soften from those extremes. I mean his decision to live with Comte is pretty much his first step in that direction; it was him acknowledging for the first time that vampires aren't inherently loathsome or incapable of normal living. (On a revealing note, I think it says a lot that he agrees with MC that she is living in a “wolves’ den” but also feels the need to clarify the men are basically the domesticated equivalent. They don’t pose the same threat other vampires typically do to humans because of their lifestyle and sire.) Additionally, his tsun-like behavior towards Comte also seems to solidify this concept for me: Leonardo’s trying to come to terms with something he's sworn to reject since he was young, but also can't entirely deny that Comte is as chill and mature as purebloods come lmao

[There was also an event in the JPN ver–which seems to be approaching the ENG version rapidly, though only the first part is here right now–in which Leonardo fully offers to turn her. MC is essentially on her death bed, and Leonardo doesn’t want to lose her after so little time together; it’s MC that rejects the future as a vampire out of sheer principle. Even more noteworthy is that, when a reincarnation of MC is reunited with Leonardo in modern times, he is revealed to be exceptionally shaken by that loss. There are suggestions he can’t take losing her again, which could mean succumbing to the desire to bite her.]

Two things I feel are necessary to hit home:

The first being that, at least within the storyline so far, the most mature and human-like vampires we’ve seen are Leonardo and Comte. They seek to emulate the maturity they see reflected in the human beings they’ve known all their lives. Given how vampire society and their hierarchies work, I get the feeling humans are nothing more than amusing tools to them--a way to survive and creatures to exercise control over. There’s an objectification and delusion that comes with what I’ve seen, and I think it’s important in this discussion? If the vast majority of vampires behave this way (because I’m ngl, Leonardo and Comte don’t seem very keen on remaining in touch with other vampires all that much) then it only makes sense they prefer the company of humans who can at least share this sensibility of “been there, done that--stop hurting people bc you’re bored/repressed, grow up.”

One event story where this was exceedingly evident was actually Leonardo’s proposal story. If y’all remember, an old pal/acquaintance of Leonardo’s finds out he’s gunning for a human woman and basically goes “lmao not on my watch.” His name was Adam iirc, and he felt he had every liberty to try and pressure Leonardo into turning MC. Failing that, he insisted they should break up and not be together anymore. Now, on the one hand, it’s fair to say that he was looking out for Leonardo in a way–he didn’t want him to end up miserable and alone when she was gone. But at the same time I feel that Adam’s behavior is deeply revealing of vampire society as well lmao. He doesn’t really try to understand the situation, just immediately assumes it’s the only appropriate outcome. It does insinuate a lowkey cultural disdain for humanity: they are imperfect, they do not last or cannot have real value without preservation. If Adam was really Leonardo’s friend, wouldn’t he realize that Leonardo considers vampirism nothing more than a burden that he would wish on no one, much less his future wife? Additionally, wouldn’t he also keep in mind that Leonardo considers human beings beautiful just as they are? Since he fails these basic requirements to understand Leonardo, my impression is that he is influenced by the larger vampire culture to some extent. Furthermore, it underscores just how thoroughly Leonardo has been trained to keep his cards close to his chest for fear of ridicule/violent reprisal: no vampires know his true feelings on the matter because he would be vehemently rejected outright.

[One can also offer that maybe Adam wasn’t being malicious, maybe vampires find human women they fall in love with all the time and turn them (or any other permutation of companionship that occurs), so he doesn’t understand why Leonardo wouldn’t. But even then, to try to force them to break up if she doesn’t turn? A bit overkill imo but also revealing--Leonardo’s will is being ignored for the sake of upholding a kind of ill-founded superiority complex lmao]

While Leonardo does have a somewhat overbearing need to control the pacing of his relationship and who sacrifices what, I don’t think it’s wrong to be cautious--to want to think things through. I think it’s fair to be afraid that the person you’re with can’t handle what you’ve seen/known. But that also leads me to a core issue I have with MC: she doesn’t inspire much confidence that she can handle the life he’s lived, and that’s a problem of both incapacity and incompatibility. I have to wonder how he reacts when he’s with somebody at the same maturity level, or at the very least somebody with whom he can see her strength with time. When MC’s life was dying out he was desperate enough to accept biting her because he didn’t want to lose her–human or not. It’s MC that rejects this solution, which leads me to further believe that he just doesn’t care about the divide when it comes down to it; it has more to do with his difficulty with being vulnerable and fully trusting someone to care about him. (Assuming they also have the fortitude to stay hopeful and relatively strong over the course of a very long life.)

In line with that, the second thing I think it’s important to acknowledge is how deeply hurt Leonardo is as a result of his family treating him like a fool/black sheep. He outright says and heavily insinuates that his family would write her off as worthless, that they’d never accept her--that's his first thought:

Leonardo: “My familia would call you frail. I think you’re strong and beautiful. You do more with your time than we try to do with ours.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC: “And those letters were from your familia?”

Leonardo: “Yeah. I don’t talk to them or see them anymore. We don’t agree...on a lot of things.”

[Brief intermission here. But lmao. Who does that sound like? If any of you guessed Isaac, that’s exactly what I’m alluding to. Isaac says in his own route smth along the lines of “Why bother trying to get through to people when no amount of talking does any good or gets you any closer to being understood?” Which also explains the way they get along to uncanny degrees: they find comfort in making things/researching because it means being able to avoid the distress that comes with being blatantly misunderstood by others. Their pain simply comes in different dimensions; for Leo it’s about loss and hiding who he is out of fear of rejection, for Isaac it’s about betrayal and people turning on him--ultimately abandonment for both. But I digress, back to the main argument.]

Leonardo: “Once they discovered my location, they began hounding me with letters again. They don’t want me to be with just anyone...They want more purebloods. I’m no more than one half of an equation for them.”

There is a clear implication that his desire to choose somebody that truly makes him happy means jack shit to them. They keep talking over him and trying to wear him down to force him into what they want. It’s no wonder--imo--that he has such a hard time just saying what he wants in his life, to feel like he has the freedom to wish and pursue anything freely. It’s no wonder he just expects MC to spit on everything that’s important to him. It appears as though only other human beings in general and Comte have ever come close to understanding him.

At some point MC realizes that his insistence on being compagni provvisori was originally just another act of sacrifice, and that he was fine with giving up his time and a little privacy if it meant she would be safe. The thing she doesn’t seem to realize in the course of this--and he struggles to say it until later on--is that it stopped being blind generosity. He really did start to fall in love with her, and that’s the whole reason things became even more messy; because he didn’t anticipate not being able to let go on top of the vulnerability. And it’s a big part of why he’s hesitating to speak. He feels he has no right to those feelings, and that he’s imposing on her--not that he’ll be welcome.

And when she did finally admit those feelings were welcome, it was compounded by the parroted views of his family and larger vampire society as a whole. Saying that she herself wasn’t enough, that she had to become a vampire to make him happy. Imo that sounds very potentially retraumatizing given his experiences (people trying to force him into marriages with other vampires who didn’t remotely understand or care about him because it was “the right way of things”). It’s no wonder he freaks out and does something incredibly stupid and insensitive–which is pretty insanely ooc for him.

Leonardo: “...It shocked them. Quieted them down a bit. Hard to get peace when your familia is immortal. Grazie, cara mia.”

Leonardo: “You’re strong, and you’re kind. So probably you won’t cry while I’m here to see it. But when I’m not looking, you’ll cry. If I had done that to you (bitten her, in other words), you’d still be crying when I wasn’t watching... Maybe it’s selfish of me, after what I did, but I just wanted to make you happy. You always look pretty, cara mia, but your smile takes my breath away...It’s not your destiny to love someone who will only make you cry.”

This man literally cannot handle anyone deeply sad or in despair. He’s always going to try to cheer people up and care about them, but general tragedy/emotional discord affects him very powerfully--and it’s likely a reflection of what I’ve mentioned before. He can’t bear to see people feeling helpless or miserable because he’s just been there too many times to be able to cope. He wants to help and heal (even if he’s suffering from prolonged compassion fatigue), but he knows that his powers are limited--even if he is a pureblood.

And the thing is? While it’s misguided to believe she would cry alone when it comes to the context of healthy romantic love (bc the idea would be that you lean on each other when something upsetting happens) he has zero reference point. He was not born as a result of authentic love (his parents never married, he was the result of a procreative arrangement), his family talks over every wish and belief he has and they still claim it’s done out of love/honest concern for him. One can only imagine the serpentine and obnoxious lengths to which his family has deceived or tried to force him into reconnecting with them. Every person that ever did know him/care about him in a real way is gone. Love, for him, has only been a series of losses that left his heart hollowed out; I don’t really blame him for expecting further disappointment and isolation and exhaustion. 

He’s also not wrong in the sense that he partially saw MC do what he outlined, and it’s a big part about what he loves about her. When she was feeling alone and lost–powerless–all she did was shrug and move forward. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, but focusing on what you can do instead of what you can’t do is healthier. And they both have the tendency to hide when they’re in pain or feeling lost, all because they don’t want to trouble anyone. Remember that when he says this, it’s a reflection of himself too: because even if he was heartbroken beyond measure, all he would do is hide it every second; he would never expect anyone to see right through him or care.

I mean I tend think of that one post I saw that talked about how people often see themselves as a social burden when most of their life has just been a series of neglect and loss. They don’t really have a concept of “you’re not heavy because I want to stay with you. It’s my choice to care about you.” How do you feel worthwhile an existence when four hundred years later your family still won’t treat you with basic dignity. The men in the mansion also all look to him for guidance and soothing because of the kind of person he is–he’s either silent in the periphery or helping. He never betrays so much as an inkling of insecurity or distress. 

I mean the whole reason Leonardo comes to the mansion is because he has absolutely no issue helping Comte in a pivotal time of need without seeking much of anything in return. Remember that Comte explains how Leonardo came to the mansion in response to Comte’s distress about the future. This makes sense considering Comte was rapidly trying to stop Vlad by beating him to the punch, and had only enough time to plan the basics. He had no certainty things would work out, much less that his boys would thrive. But Comte, unlike the boys, has become acutely aware of how much Leonardo is hiding his fatigue and despair in the course of being helped. As such, he wants to return the favor--and tries to be a good friend to him as much as he can (handles his insane familia, keeps things light and silly time between them, takes him seriously as a person, doesn’t pry beyond what’s fair.)

[I also think of that psychology concept of “the good enough mother.” It’s not always about being perfect every second of your life. It’s about paying attention and acting where it really counts. I feel like people who grow up under an enormous burden of neglect or parental/mentor abuse have a hard time coming to terms with the idea. This notion that just trying is enough for a lot of people, that showing them they’re not alone is enough to make  difficult memories bearable. Because it’s the oppressive silence and apathy that tends to kills people, imo--not people who mean well. But Leonardo doesn’t really understand any kind of reciprocal or non-self-emptying model because the concept is beyond him. He has no experience with it beyond Comte and a select few humans he’s befriended.]

Let’s continue on this point of MC crying where he can’t see her, shall we? The reason this scares him so much is not because he doesn’t care, or doesn’t want to make the effort. It’s precisely that he cares to the point of madness. It’s that he is legitimately convinced nothing he has to say, nothing that he can do, no part of him is enough to ease what she will have to trade away to stay with him. The core issue is not one of disregard or objectification, I find it to be more about his belief that he just isn’t enough. He doesn’t trust that anyone can love him to the point where just the sight of him or time with him can heal. And while there is a foolishness to this belief, it’s understandable when you consider where he’s coming from. You can call it selfishness, but it just feels involuntary--he has a lot of fear when it comes to love.

I mean Comte even says it himself? His words here always strike me: “I want you to understand, it’s because he cherishes you just as you are--more than he cares about his future or his well-being.”

Comte is openly identifying the way that Leonardo has a tendency to give more than is healthy. That Leonardo isn’t hesitating because his feelings are lacking, he’s doing it because he knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch trying to love her and never ask beyond what feels reasonable. (Spoilers: no request is reasonable. That’s the problem here. He’s convinced he deserves nothing.) Therefore turning her into a vampire to stay with him is--consequently, to Leonardo--out of the question. This is the literal hingepoint at which Comte and Leonardo divide; Comte simply tells MC he’ll take full responsibility for asking so much of her. He intends to make her happy with every single resource and skill he has at his disposal. Even if he doubts his ability or fears losing her to vampire rhetoric madness, he’d rather try than live with the regret and immediate loss. Leonardo is more resistant because of his dour outlook, that her fear of immortality is never going to be something that either of them can overcome. And/or he’s likely afraid she’s only going to regret being together after so long, and might succumb to the ridiculous sort of power/greed complexes vampires seem so attracted to by nature.

I think Leonardo is still coming to terms with the idea that he isn't alone in the world in a lot of ways, and I think he's also coming to terms with the idea that immortality does not equate to evil. Sure, human beings on average are probably more open to flexible modes of thinking and living compared to vampires--their maturity is in some ways guaranteed due to the instances they're forced to adapt to survive. However, just one look at the ruling class and oligarchies of all kinds (even just stubborn human beings) reveals how they are not immune to the same sort of megalomania, arrogance, and thoughtless violence purebloods/vampires are capable of.

So I guess I hesitate when it comes to the thought that he only loves her because she's human. If anything, I think he loves her for the fact that she's very rooted in reality--not quite so bound by the extremes that trouble him. It's one of the many reasons I believe Leonardo needs a lot of maturity and patience; the ability to differentiate between his panicked/overwhelmed/hurt reactions versus his calm is a skill in and of itself considering his capacity for concealment. To say nothing of getting him to slow down when this happens, too.

I suppose I think about it in a way that’s similar to how Napoleon’s main story narrative is framed. While Leonardo’s route doesn’t focus on the grandeur of being a former emperor, there is a clear insinuation here that he also craves normalcy? Just a little life, with a person he loves dearly, where he can rest and be himself for once. I think because he gives off such an appearance of steadiness, people fail to see that he is barely holding on--not to mention the kind of experiences he’s been deprived of (the exact security and understanding he so expertly emulates).

Closer to your question, it’s worth mentioning that Leonardo’s life goal for a while was the creation of an immortal human being--in that he fully recognized human beings could not offer what he needed as they were.

He loves humans because of their adaptability, their frequent desire to keep seeking out hope and making the best of the broken pieces they have. But then again, it has more to do with the nature of how frequently that sensibility occurs in humans vs vampires (and immortality in general): mortality does demand some level of necessity to change and grow. Which is one of the largest trauma points for him; the vampires around him just refused to grow up, always demanding at him like children and obsessed with their power complexes.

Thing is I also don't know enough about vampire society to know how correct this perceived ratio is. However, given Comte's similar avoidance of other vampires and general inability to live with them (he and Vlad were literal childhood best friends and Comte can't stand him anymore lmao) I think Leonardo may have more validity here than people give him credit for. Which begs the question--why did he quit trying to make a human immortal? What was it that stopped him? Was it the horror of what needed to be done to achieve it? Or would a potential companion start to fall more in love with the idea of immortality than they do with life itself/him? I think it’s a worthwhile question to ask, given the disdain he seems to aim at Shakespeare in particular--once human, but now emulates all of the violence and insatiability marked by vampirism.

This is where the transition from human to vampire/immortal contains another hingepoint: is Leonardo so incapable of finding a middle ground because he feels like any choice he makes will be a wrong one? Marry a human, deprive them of a normal love where they can grow old together. Marry a human and turn them, what if they are reborn with immortal wounds/psychological harm? What if time proves they get bored of him or hateful, what if they begin to act like the predatory purebloods he hates so much? Marry a pureblood/immortal, and be hounded by his family for heirs--risk being with somebody who will never love him or their children, and only inspire more misery in the world.

Does it make sense how this can really start to become an anxious downspiral for someone like him? How the personal insecurity and life history comes together to just compound stress endlessly?

That's the thing that's important here, I think. Leonardo just needs somebody who is open-minded, firm, and not easily deceived. If one takes a look at Leonardo's main story route, the whole reason everything goes to shit so disastrously is because MC stops listening at a critical point. Granted Leonardo could have been more forthcoming for sure, but when she started assuming Shakespeare was right instead of seeing how Leonardo was feeling/reacting, she responded in ways Leonardo wasn't prepared for. He never wanted to shake her faith or insinuate whatever she is is not good enough for him, and tbh I think Leonardo downspiraled because it was just the same thing all over again. What he is--a vampire and immortal--keeps ruining everything he wants with his life. 

[soranis-sunshadow]

Why Hordak and all of his brothers are cult victims suffering from Religious Trauma Syndrome

A detailed (and very, very, veeeeryy long) explanation on why I take issue with dismissing Hordak’s trauma as “daddy issues” that is frequently done as a way to hand wave his background and the context for his actions all while attributing said cultic abuse and indoctrination narrative to a character that, though has a tragic, abuse-laden past has never actually been part of a cult. *cough* Catra *cough*

Lets see how deep the rabit hole goes shall we?

First off: The Galactic Horde is based on a suicide cult, with Horde Prime as its leader.  

That is irrefutable fact. It has been stated by the show runner and there are plenty of in-show examples of religious speak, religious themes pertaining to Horde Prime and his acolytes and even the interior design of Horde Prime’s ship is that of a grandiose Cathedral.

The source of this is an article by Polygon where the show runner breaks down what went into creating Horde Prime. (link in the notes)

Onto The Etherian Horde – though totalitarian in nature, it is not a religious institution – merely a military operation. Though the argument could be made that propaganda is used to instill an anti-princess agenda, no horde members are ever seen spouting doctrine or discrimination against their very own Princess in the ranks – Scorpia. Not only is she not discriminated against, she holds the rank of Force Captain. She also has the respect of her peers.

The only person that seemed to have taken it seriously is Adora, who - due to Shadow Weaver’s personal attention – has been raised with the specific mindset of a self-sacrificing martyr. After learning of the fact that Shadow Weaver has always known about the Heart of Etheria, it is not a huge leap to assume that in her bid for more power, her plan had always been to have Adora unleash the planet’s magic, possibly sacrificing herself in the process. Shadow Weaver had groomed her for this specific purpose.  (It’s one of the reasons for which the subject of Adora’s martyrdom hurts Catra so deeply –she had been witness to the manipulation taking place but was powerless to do anything about it for most of her life)

The other cadets are more well-adjusted and don’t seem to care much about the horde’s ideology or goals, not even Catra who has suffered the brunt of Shadow Weaver’s psychological and physical abuse and has been subjected to her manipulation too.  

The above exchange proves that even if there had been any indoctrination in The Etherian Horde, it has failed in affecting Catra’s judgment. I am legitimately surprised on how little credit her own fans give her and on how her perceptiveness and intellect is dismissed to have her fit into this “brainwashed victim“ agenda for more “sympathy points”.

With that having been said I’ll start this off with a bit of a definition: Religious Trauma Syndrome is a common experience shared among many who have escaped cults, fundamentalist religious groups, abusive religious settings, or other painful experiences with religion.

The symptoms of Religious Trauma Syndrome are comparable to the symptoms of complex PTSD. The symptoms are as follows.

(link in the notes)

I will discuss all of the symptoms and causes by turn and expand upon them.

1)      Cognitive: Confusion, poor critical thinking ability, difficulty with decision-making,

negative beliefs about self-ability & self-worth, black & white thinking, perfectionism,

Hordak’s whole misguided crusade on Etheria is an act of confusion. What on green Earth had ever convinced him that it would work in proving his worth to Prime? Hordak had been confused on the reason of his rejection, self-delusional even.  Hear me out:

Despite what Hordak himself believes, he wasn’t excommunicated because he was useless, he was abandoned for being born defective, aka for existing as he was created.

His inborn defect, by nature of being an unchangeable fact was not something that he could overcome in order to earn back the acceptance of his Maker. To a certain degree, he was aware of this but had refused to acknowledge it and as such, he has framed it to himself as “his defect makes him worthless”.

By overcoming uselessness and proving his competence in furthering Prime’s goals, he had convinced himself that he would be welcome back into his brother’s flock.

He had convinced himself that by proving his usefulness, it would erase his defect. He had given himself a reason for rejection that, unlike an inborn one, could be overcome - worthlessness.  His logic being that Worthless=Defective, if he were useful, he wouldn’t be defective anymore.

He has framed his accidental stranding on Etheria as a trial of faith, not a chance at freedom or bid for power and self-actualization.

In his confused reasoning, he had not realized that by attempting to prove his worth to Horde Prime, he would be in essence, proving that Prime had been mistaken about his deficiency. This was anathema to Horde Prime’s own doctrine – that Prime is all knowing, all powerful and Horde Prime is Never Wrong. His attempts were always destined to fail from the start, the premise was flawed at the core but Hordak’s own wishful thinking prevented him from seeing the fault in his mission.

This is how Hordak sees himself:

This defect => useless => worthless mentality can be observed when he projects onto Catra. I swear, everyone projects onto everyone else in this series.

This is an example of him emulating the only leadership he’s ever known  - that of Horde Prime and exerting Prime’s judgment over a supplicant or Prime – In this case Catra (what Prime would have done to him in the same situation). He imitates Prime’s way of speaking and even his facial expression during Prime’s “speeches” (look at position of his ears in this scene and that little dimple damnit!!!)

(yes, *sigh* I did a spacebat ear position diagram)

Horde Prime has that ear position even when possessing his little brothers to give his grandiose speeches:

Hordak’s and other little brother’s “default” ear position:

It’s worth adding that perfectionism is not only part of a symptom of his cult trauma but also a tenant of Prime’s doctrine making it a double whammy.

2). Emotional: Depression, anxiety, anger, grief, loneliness, difficulty with pleasure, loss of meaning

As they say, a picture says a thousand words…

To call Hordak depressed is like calling the ocean mildly humid.

He is alone, on a planet of primitive aliens (from his perspective) surrounded by potential enemies and in an incredibly vulnerable position due to his illness with no clear end to any of it in sight. He feels nothing for this world other than irritation at his inability to leave it. His only meaning and purpose is returning to his congregation, a purpose he is no closer to fulfilling than he was when he had started a few decades ago. The only open displays of emotion he manifests are that of anger, self-loathing., frustration, fear – in the blanket scene before he comes to his senses completely and starts masking the fear with anger… at the blanket… there was nothing else in the room to be angry at… ridiculous spacebat.

After Catra deceives him about Entrapta, he openly manifests grief and apathy as well.

3).   Social: Loss of social network, family rupture, social awkwardness, behind schedule on developmental tasks, sexual difficulty (no snu snu for religiously repressed spacebats... yet  *wink wink*)  

This one is self-explanatory.  He is in essence an exile on Etheria, away from all he has ever known. He is the only one of his kind on the planet, even Imp - his attempt at replication is not a proper replacement for the community provided by the Hive mind.

From a social perspective- he is a recluse and is not seen interacting with anyone in anything but a “professional “ manner.  The only exception to this is Entrapta’s interaction to him. Due to her indifference to his posturing, she is immune to his attempts at self-isolation. “Get out!” and vague threats of reprimands don’t work on her. Their shared interest in science allows Entrapta to force the interaction on him. (At least in the beginning of their collaboration)

Later, after having become accustomed to Entrapta’s companionship and having that ripped away, he tries to form a connection – at least of commiseration – with Catra:

 Even after she did this to him:

he still tried to form a connection through their shared need to prove their own worth.  

Did you catch that little detail? : “Victory is ours” not “mine”.

4.) Cultural: Unfamiliarity with secular world; “fish out of water” feelings, difficulty belonging, information gaps (e.g. evolution, modern art, music)

…                                

Do I really need to expand on this one? *Sigh* … he is literally an alien to this world, “fish out of water” would be an understatement.

 As we have established, he fits the bill of Religious Trauma Syndrome to a T. He presents all of the symptoms.

Now let’s move onto the causes of it:

 1). Suppression of normal child development – cognitive, social, emotional, moral stages are arrested

This one is self-explanatory. The horde clones and by extension Hordak are severely stunted in their psychological development and that is by design. They are deliberately kept from developing an adult mentality so as to never become a threat to Horde Prime or ever be able to break away from his control. Prime keeps them in a child-like dependency on him as a way to exert his power over them.  Should they ever develop even a budding sense of self, their indoctrination compels them to submit to correction and erasure ensuring that they never surpass this state of learned helplessness. Horde Prime encourages this self-flagellating behavior, deeming it a mercy, even a favor to be granted – to suffer in His Name.

Hordak shows almost no emotional coping mechanisms and manifests child-like tantrums of frustration as an only outlet for his emotions throughout the show. He attempts to hide any other attempt at emotion, with differing degrees of success.

Wrong Hordak is emotionally unstable and is prone to fits of crying. (However, due to the comedic fashion in which his arc is written, I suppose that this could be taken with a grain of salt)

The clones are not only prevented from growing and maturing mentally, they are also robbed of childhoods –having been born in adult bodies and with the necessary knowledge to serve Prime literally programmed into them so as to make them able to serve efficiently from their first breath. As such, they are robbed of their formative years where one individual grows and develops naturally. Those precious experiences are replaced by Horde Prime’s literal programming through the hardware they have installed in their bodies to facilitate Horde Prime’s control over them (without their consent).  In essence, they are a people born pre-”chipped”

Regardless of their actual age, and despite the fact that they are intelligent, capable and responsible individuals, I see the clones as having the emotional maturity of toddlers.

They never had the chance to develop any emotional coping skills, they were never allowed to have emotions to begin with.

2). Damage to normal thinking and feeling abilities -information is limited and controlled; dysfunctional beliefs taught; independent thinking condemned; feelings condemned

This is The Galactic Horde’s core belief:

Along with:

Incidentally, Hordak does his version of this speech trying to puff himself up in front of his soldiers… buuut Catra pushes the Failure button and that snaps him out of his little Prime impersonation moment.  

More dysfunctional beliefs:

Condemnation of independent thinking:

Results in this:

No further explanations are necessary…

3). External locus of control – knowledge is revealed, not discovered; hierarchy of authority enforced; self not a reliable or good source

Prime exerts his dominance throughout S5 by force,

and coercion:    

He is even petty and vindictive enough to force himself into Hordak immediately after his speech and to kill Entrapta with Hordak’s own body.

As for the self not being a reliable narrator… Hordak believed this about his former position.

He is not prone to exaggeration or deception being woefully incompetent in the latter – both perpetrating and spotting it.  We have to assume that this is the way he saw his position in the Galactic Horde.

Season 5 revealed that all of the clones are equally disposable and interchangeable, there are no ranks. They are all equal tools whose sole purpose is furthering Horde Prime’s agenda. Horde Prime has no need for generals or delegating since he is able to inhabit his little brothers and be in more than one place at the same time. Hordak’s job in S5 was that of hall monitor and planetary acquisitions guy…

@cruelfeline​ goes into detail about the dissonance between what Hordak believes and what is actually his position in The Galactic Horde. A link to it is in the notes because Tumblr is being fussy. 

4.) Physical and sexual abuse – patriarchal power; unhealthy sexual views; punishment used as for discipline

Some people have seen this, ugh… form of penetration… ugh again… as rape allegory.

Not a hard thing to do since Prime himself is rape personified and he consistently forces himself onto and into his little brothers, Catra and later, the chipped Etherians.  Prime does nothing but "bad touch" people all of S5 and is particularly enjoying his disciplining of his "wayward little brother", the most unworthy and unlovable amongst his brothers. (According to the extended scene)

Here’s some more of Prime’s touching with rape subtext:

Here’s more of Prime forcing himself into his little brothers – they all seem to fight it and find it painful to some degree despite the fact that they have been conditioned to accept it and welcome it. Prime’s touch is a good thing, even when it hurts them.

Ironically, the one who fights this violation the least is Hordak himself. (this could be either because he’s extra repentant and wished not to further draw Prime’s ire or that his condition of chronic illness has raised his pain threshold)

The process of possession is not seamless and some of the clones appear to be unsettled by it after prime retreats from their bodies.

As much as this Utter Disaster of a clone wanted to finish his little speech about dirt and as much as he was gleefully enjoying it, after Prime was done with him… he just wanted his task over with…

            The very nature of their indoctrination makes them unable to escape what has been done to them nor change their whole world view without outside intervention – which is exactly the help that Wrong Hordak received immediately after being abducted from the collective by people who slowly de-indoctrinated him and offered him a supportive environment for all of that growth and healing to happen.

When the Best Friend Squad kidnapped him, he was ardent about his service to Prime and he only followed them because they deceived him in believing they were servants of Horde Prime.

By providing clear irrefutable evidence of Prime’s fallibility, deceit and the squad’s (mostly Entrapta and Glimmer)  moral support throughout this moral crisis, they (just Entrapta here *coughs* ) were able to wean him off of his programmed behavior and offer him an informed choice.

This is information none of the other clones, not even Hordak were privy to.

Even with this information, Wrong Hordak is still in emotional turmoil (though the show plays it for laughs – yuck)

The closest Hordak ever gets to walking away from Prime’s doctrine is this moment:

He was considering indefinitely putting it off to stay here, with her, and her worldview that he could be worth something, imperfect as he is. He is offered her emotional support and guidance.

Unfortunately... Catra nipped that in the bud before it could lead anywhere.

 After convincing Hordak that Entrapta betrayed him, her message of inherent worth was rendered null, to him - her unconditional affection and the notion that he could to live apart from Prime were a manipulation. This further radicalized him in his faith and need to prove his worthiness.

Not only did Catra remove Entrapta’s influence over him, she goaded him even further with this cursed little speech and her whole “yass queen moment!”. you know the one...

“Get.Over.IT! You don’t need Entrapta. You never did. You don’t need a Princess in your life telling you what to do. Look at what you’ve done without her. You’ve build an army. An empire! You and me, we don’t need anyone. Forget them all. No one matters, nothing matters but this mission. You want to prove yourself, prove your worth? Then do it! You and I are going to conquer Etheria. And then, they’ll all see!”

Both of them were in clear downfall in S4 and they amplified each other’s most negative tendencies. I will not hold this against her. 

             The last thing I want to mention is that for cult victims, it is incredibly hard, if not, almost impossible to leave their cults by themselves. The first step for leaving a cult in the real world is looking for outside assistance.

It takes enormous amounts of strength – an almost imaginable degree of resolve – to leave a cult, particularly when you may have been born into one and have no friends or connections on the outside world. Cult survivors are often ostracized by everyone they have ever known who remain within the organization. To a cultist, the world outside the cult is a hostile, sinful and dangerous place. The assistance of someone from the outside is crucial.

Only with the assistance of a “friendly outsider” or a support group can the former cultist change the world view with which they had been indoctrinated with (sometime since early childhood).

A cult and set of beliefs warps your whole world view to the point of delusion. Faith in the cultic creeds is more important than factual evidence. As  a matter of fact, the evidence in itself is evil, a contradiction to the creeds of faith and successfully denying it is an act of faith fulfilled. This mentality is encouraged in cults.

Many people in this fandom have claimed that Hordak, once pulled through the portal was free to do as he pleases. (he didn’t chose to come to Etheria – his arrival on the planet was accidental)

This is not really the case. Hordak never decided to leave the cult. He was still part of the cult when he was sent to his death on the battlefield for his defect and he was still a believer when the portal delivered him to Etheria.

In essence, Hordak didn’t leave his cult so much as he was forced apart from it, physically. In spirit, he still believed in Horde Prime’s dogma.  His experience is the equivalent of a religious man getting stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. He is apart from his church, but his faith is still with him. Hordak’s faith hadn’t waned in the decades of separation. His purpose had always been returning to Horde Prime –hence the focus on building a portal and not on levelling towns with an arm laser cannons. He has proven in S4 that, had his main mission actually been conquest, he could have done it with not much difficulty – He wasn’t half bad at it actually. Instead, he delegated the conquest to his underlings and focused most of his attention on attempts at reuniting with Horde Prime via investigating rogue portals and trying to build one of his own.

Due to the nature of his “upbringing”, Hordak’s whole world view is warped. He has not had the benefits of a “moral” education from a human’s standpoint. Why would training cadets to become soldiers in your army be morally reprehensible when you, yourself, had been bred for war and have served your God with your first breath?

This was Hordak’s idea of a “normal” childhood:

What could he possibly know about the healthy raising of children?

Why would conquering a planet be a morally reprehensible thing when his God did this to places?

And this:

Before one ascribes evil motivation, for the sake of evil – one should bear in mind that these creeds were literally programmed into him. This is not a life he has chosen for himself– this is something he was born into, literally manufactured for, this is something that was done to him.

And for those that would have wanted him to regret his actions on screen, keep in mind that it will likely  take a lot of therapy and reeducation before he even comprehends the nature and magnitude of his crimes on Etheria.

(besides the fact that he had spent 99% of season 5 in an amnesiac daze doesn’t help with the whole remembering his crimes bit either)

The show runner has declared in one of her post show interview that he will make reparations for the damage he’s caused.

What more do people want from a person born and flung into an impossible situation besides his head on a plate?

Phew!

Long post was long

[ariainstars]

Will Din Djarin and Grogu Have to Part?

Since this question has been discussed quite controversially in the fandom since the second season of The Mandalorian, here are my two cents about it. 

Luke and Anakin

A subject my husband and I can’t agree upon 😉 is the character of Luke Skywalker. I always liked him, while my husband finds him annoying. But consider: Luke’s hotheadedness, his naivety, his obstinacy, are perfectly normal for a young man of nineteen or twenty. Given A New Hope’s roots in classic Western, Luke is the typical greenhorn, who tries to man it up but doesn’t know how to do it yet. Luke is a normal adolescent with dreams and ambitions. Remember how we see him playing with a toy skyhopper at his uncle’s homestead? He obviously feels safe there. His aunt and uncle later even sacrifice their lives rather than revealing to the Imperial stormtroopers where R2D2 is, because they know that Luke went in search of the droid, and they don’t want them to find him. Luke is a good boy though raw and green. In the end, his story is a success because he chooses to use his powers to save the ones he cares about, even when it’s a father who, except for saving his life at the last moment, never did anything good for him.

Now compare him to Anakin Skywalker, his father, at the same age: many fans define young Anakin as a whiny, arrogant brat and they’re not so wrong with that. Anakin comes over as an irritating person, much more so than his son, because he is emotionally stunted, having spent the last ten years being told to stifle his emotions and not to allow any personal attachment. Which blatantly failed: we see right away that his bond with Padmé is still intact although they didn’t meet in the meantime, and we witness him getting mad with fury and hatred when his mother has to die in that cruel, meaningless way when he could have saved her had he arrived just a little sooner. Young Anakin is unbalanced and frustrated because by now he knows his enormous powers but is not allowed to use them in a way that actually makes sense to him. Anakin is a family man: his instinct is to protect. But at age nineteen, thanks to the uncompassionate mindset of the oh-so wise Jedi, he already is a ticking bomb.

Now to Our New Heroes…

While the first season was about Mando’s redemption and hero’s journey, the second one thematizes the development of the child. Until now he hardly wielded the Force and most of the time he’s just being cute and getting into trouble, but that’s not simply bothersome, nor is it unfitting for the narrative: it’s normal. Grogu is being a child at last, because he can, and he can because someone is looking after him and genuinely caring for him.

Look at him: the little cookie monster is having a blast. He’s meeting people and making friends. He’s enjoying life (including food). He can let go, because he knows that “daddy” has his back. Literally!

Which is why I don’t believe that Grogu will choose to join some Jedi or other: it would be pointless for his story. Grogu has the chance to be the child he could not be until now, and since he thankfully ages slowly, he’s taking that chance. Like with his predecessor Yoda, there is more to Grogu than meets the eye: he understands more than he lets on. He’s making experiences, and he’s learning from these experiences. Instinctively, he wants Mando because he wants belonging. My take is that he will learn how to have healthy attachments, and that if he is to be the future Yoda in some distant new tv show or new trilogy, he will be very different from this one in that he won’t discourage Force-sensitive children from learning how to love other people in a proper way. Also, Yoda lived mostly at the Jedi temple, which from the outside reminded of an ivory tower and indeed did shield the Jedi from seeing many of the ugly things happening outside. Grogu is travelling: he witnesses the injustices in the galaxy with his own eyes. 

One of the crucial messages of the Star Wars saga always was how wrong it is to separate families. Palpatine’s greatest villainy was making people who belonged together mistrust one another until they resorted to violence. What’s worse, he enjoyed it.

To remain in balance, children need to grow up serene and protected. Anakin, the Dark Father, was the most blatant example for this: his mere existence was a living proof for the Jedi’s failure. Terrified of his former padawan’s turn to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan set the seal on his fate right when Padmé was succeeding into making him go away with her. The Jedi was aware that Anakin was a husband and future father at this point, but the convictions of the Jedi had been so deeply ingrained into his mind since he was small that he believed them to be more important than Anakin’s role not as a Jedi, but as a human being. Still twenty years later, he tried to trick Anakin’s own son into killing him. Anakin’s soul was saved, though only by a hair’s breadth, due to his son’s stubborn compassion. Anakin had been willing to sacrifice everything to save his wife; Luke chose to rather give up his life than his integrity, which is why the moment when he throws his light sabre away before Palpatine is so significant, setting him apart from Anakin.

None of the surviving Jedi would have lifted a finger for Anakin: to them, he was a damned man. Which he was, but that was largely also due to the Jedi’s sins and not only his own. They never showed regret or assumed that they might have wronged him. The aim of both the prequel and sequel trilogy was not to excuse Darth Vader’s / Anakin Skywalker’s or Kylo Ren’s / Ben Solo’s terrible deeds, but to demonstrate that their fate could have been avoided; that they were not alone with their guilt but had been for a large part pushed into their role by their environment, instead of being, as the cliché runs, “mad guys who choose to be evil because they want power”, like e.g. in a James Bond movie. (Except of course for Palpatine, but even he got a second chance through Rey, equally powerful but much more well-meaning than him.)

Conclusions

The message of Star Wars is not about the all-powerful Jedi and the significance of their order: they are not some kind of superheroes who will return and save the galaxy. I daresay that who hopes to see Luke Skywalker, e.g. instructing Grogu, will be bitterly disappointed. If Luke would enter the narrative, the story would become about him, making the show’s set-up and title pointless. His story, the Hero’s Journey, was accomplished with Return of the Jedi, which is why George Lucas never wrote a continuation. Luke himself developed his capacities instinctively, both Obi-Wan and Yoda had little time to train him. (So much also for Rey being “a Mary Sue who knows how to wield her power without training”.) It obviously does not take years and years of learning at a Jedi temple to learn to wield one’s Force powers: it appears that what padawans are taught there, more than anything else, is how to control their feelings. Which is unrealistic on the long run, because every living being wishes for personal fulfilment and even the greatest Jedi can’t live solely for others.

Will the child’s Force abilities fade in time without training, the way Ahsoka said? They won’t. The show is set some 25 years after the fall of the Jedi Temple, and yet Grogu managed to make a mudhorn float in the air with his power. He was exhausted afterwards, but he managed. In another episode he healed Greef Karga from a mortal wound and he is the first Force-sensitive whom we ever saw with this capacity. In the next episode he rejected a fireball with his bare hands. The Force is strong with this one. He does not need a Jedi master to train him. What he needs is to develop a good judgement about what he should use his powers for, and when he should not. 

The saga as a whole always showed a clear structure where the puzzle pieces fit together, adding up to one final picture: life is not about power but about love and belonging. Power can win, but that victory is always short-lived. Who chooses power over compassion in the end will always lose and have to look back on a destroyed world where there are only losses and bitter memories.

Ever from the first episode, The Mandalorian lived from the dynamics between the gruff but kind bounty-hunter and the innocent yet powerful child. At its core, it is a father-son relationship: tear them apart and the whole story ceases to make sense. By the beginning of season 2 Din Djarin and Grogu have grown so close that you could hardly fit a sheet of paper between them. Their story is not about rebuilding the Jedi order, it is about healing together, overcoming loneliness and trauma, starting a new life together. 

Maybe they will be separated at the end of the second season, e.g. by Moff Gideon who wants the child for his despicable experiments: but if that happens, I can foretell what the next season will be about: 

Mando will move heaven and hell to get “his” child back under his protection. Because contrarily to both Luke and Anakin, he is a father, and a good and devoted one at that.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Finale Review: The Last Adventure! or So Long and Thanks for All The Ducks

Hello all you happy people. The day we’ve all simultaneously waited for and dreaded is here. The grand finale to a five year journey.. and for me an almost one year journey of covering season 3 as it came out. It was thanks to this show i’ve been able to make money doing what I love. Without it I never would’ve found my patreon Kev, and I never woul’dve had the solid focus to keep going as long as I have. And I never would’ve had all you lovely people reading my work. Thank you for that. I hope you’ll stick around even though the series is gone, I love you all. But as the sun sets on this series I have one last episode of the season, and the series to cover. I won’t be doing it in my usual recap style due to it’s sheer length and scope, but I promise you if you join me under the cut I will break down eveyrthing I can about this final adventure, it’s huge, awe inspiring twists.. and it’s heartwarming conclusion. It’s everything you could want from a finale short of a Grandma Duck Cameo, and i’ts under the cut with full spoilers. Seriously if you do not want any spoilers TURN BACK NOW. I’m opening with probably the biggest spoiler of the finale. 

I Think She’s A Clone Now You were warned. So.. Webby is Scrooge’s Clone, made by FOWL as part of a decades long scheme to find the papyrus of binding, and raised by Beakly to keep this precious child out of their sinister clutches. I have hundreds of reaction images, several for what the fuck.. none of them seem sufficient.. ALL OF THEM together like some megazord of what the fuck are not sufficient for how much this reveal caught me off guard. It caught ALL of us off guard. I’m sure even those who called it still were suprised that’s the direction it took. I think we all expected her parents died by FOWL, or her parents were FOWl with Pepper being one of them, or anything else. So naturally it took around 14 drafts, and me going the fuck to sleep as I had stayed up to watch the finale and thought I could just smoothly transition into writing the review despite there being a LOTTTTT to unpack.

Even after the recharge though this took a bit of doing... so now i’ve done it... what’d I think? Whelp....

I liked it. I like it the more I think about it. Even the problems I had with it just kinda melted away as I thought about it. I understand if you do not. This twist will not be for everyone, it changes Webby’s character and story entirely, ruins tons of fan theories, and in general is batshit even for a series that in the same finale, turned Manny into a shout out to Gargoyles, complete with Keith “My Body is Ready” David. This series is genuinely batshit and loves it, but this is a LOT to ask dramatically, a lot to rewrite expectation wise and a lot to thinka bout. There’s a reason besides sleep deprevation it took me a whlie to fully grasp how I felt. So if you don’t like it fine, but i’m going to make my best case. 

Starting with something that made me realize I fully like it: It dosen’t invalidate Webby’s charcter. The one little problem I had left was “Well dosen’t Webby having the McDuck bloodline mean she couldn’t be specail if she wasn’t a McDuck? That sure the rest of the cast are specail but you can’t be really important without it?” Honestly.. no. Webby is who she is not because she’s a McDuck.. but because she’s Webby. She got her martial arts and mystery solving skills through Beakly and being raised. She had intate talent sure.. but as we’ve seen with the boys through the whole series, talent has to be honed. Skill has to be earned and learned.  Webby worked hard to research other civilizations, worked hard to hone herself into a deadly fighting machine with her mother’s help, worked hard to be every bit as cool as her idol who turned out to be her biological dad. She earned her badassery, her wisdom and her courage SQUARE. 

And more than that she’s her own person. Her adoptive parent and biological parent are both paranoiacs afraid of betryal, unwilling to trust, and slow to let anyone in. By all accounts Webby should be the same.. but she’s not. Oh sure she has some paranoia and is willing to slit some throats, she was raised by the world’s best spy and is the daughter of the world’s greatest hero, that was never going to be gone entirely. But at her core she just wants to trust people. She just wants to love them and be loved. And.. that’s why her family loves her. Because she’s the kindest, the warmest and the best of them. They love her because she’s Webby and that’s she’s family, they could care less who she’s related to. All it really changes is how Scrooge acts around her and that gives us fans tons to work with. 

It’s also expertly revealed, which helped ease us into it. Webby is just as shocked and confused as we are and is seriously hurt, which makes her vulnerable to the villains. Kate Miccui deserves a goddamn award for voice acting and if their isn’t an award show for that their should be. While she’s been fantastic with Webby all series long this is her finest performance, going from Webby’s usual self, to all the hurt she goes through.. to her quitter moments at the end, calling Scrooge dad and giving out a little noise that makes it clear as Beakly tries to leave, that no.. she’ still her family.. she’s still her mom and she’s not going anywhere. 

As for the concept being a bit ridiculous yes it is.. but so is this universe. This universe is entirely insane in the best fucking way possible: I mean.. look at this final group shot. 

We have an old man whose somehow still alive simply because he was too busy to die, an inventor whose cloned himself multiple times so clones are fesable and is probably a clone himself given how the last finale went, an awkward armored superhero and his biotech filled girlfriend, a small boy robot weapon of discretion who put his head on his brother’s body, a no longer headless manhorse former harbinger of the apocalypse with the silky voice of keith david as one big homage to gargoyles, a lesbian living shadow and her sister, a superhero who based himself on a fictional character and his boyfriend/sidekick who by all accounts should be dead by now, a lesbian military superheroine from the moon, STORKULES COCKBLOCKER OUT OF MYTH, his moong goddes sister, two adopted family stunt pilots, a bunch of super intelligent mice, an odd duck whose kinda sorta dating a giant shrimp, his cousin with super luck powers, my globetrotting boys, an immortal treasure hunter and in the family proper: a former spy turned adopted mom of a clone, a woman who lived on the moon for a good decade, a man who once trapped everyone in what would essentially be the plot of the mcu’s second best work by pure accident, a blue boy whose piloted a plain, captained pirates, and has his own talk show, a green boy whose ran a multi-trillion dollar company, nearly destroyed all of time and space and is under investigation for fraud, and a red boy who has a hulk-esque rage filled embodiment of all his suppressed emotions, whose fondest wish was tall legs, and who can easily take out a giant magica supermachine with some fancy wiring. So the richest duck in the world having a clone daughter, while divisvie and what not.. is far more plausable than we give it credit for. As are her new sisters who Id in’t forget but are part of the whole twist. 

So yeah, I like the twist and my nitpick is more that despite having a full season to set it up.. they saved it for the last episode. Instead of BUILDING on Webby’s desire to know more about her family and having the twins show up earlier.. it’s all shove into the finale. It’s a well done shoving but there’s so much that could be explored with Webby being Scrooge’s daughter, so much that futzes with the regular family dynamics and we don't’ get any of it. Sure it was probably saved for a possible season 4 but they treated this season as the last. Manny being an apocalyptic man horse voiced by the uber sexy keith david, and no I will not stop bringing that up even outside of it’s own section and why yes it is getting it’s own section, is the kind of revelation you can leave for one last episode. “One of the main cast is a clone” really isn’t and that’s disapointing. 

Especially since thinking back to life and times.. Webby IS a lot like Scrooge was before circumstance hardened him. She’s tough, resourceful.. but also has a peppy spirit to her. It adds interesting shades to her character, where she zigs where Scrooge zags, how much of it is her upbringing with Granny versus his with his parents, how much did Beakley play into it. There’s A lot to dig into and given I have most of the series left to review, I will get to dig into it, and there’s a lot to be explored in fanfic so if I wasn’t already planning a massive one before I sure as fuck am now. So it’s not a bad twist nor bad we get to write the future.. but I do wish the crew THEMSELVES had done more with it. Still my bar for “not fucking up the entire show” is pretty low after Star Vs ended with her committing implied genocide to stop a genocide and How I Met Your Mother ended “But the real journey was in how much I want to bang, bang bangity bang I said a bang bang bangity bang your aunt robin now your mother conveniently died”. I can handle “This twist is kind of weird but also really intresting.” If the twist isn’t for you, as I said i get it. This is my opinion. Now for the thing I won’t shut up about. 

I LIVE AGAIN:

Look i’ve made no secret how thirsty I am for Keith David nor how much of a national treasure I rightly believe him to be. He’s one of my faviorite voice actors, with a mind boggling number of awesome rolls, mostly recently as a fowl mouthed coffe cup encouraging a teacher to sabotage his rival teachers breaks on close enough. Even if I didn’t like Gargoyles, which I do, i’d have an entire section talking about that Manny reveal. 

Manny was already objectively one of the best parts of the show, a hilariously weird addition that was also relatable as he just wanted to fit in. I did not know you could make him better. Then they gave him Keith David’s voice and revealed he’s one of the four horseman of the apocalypse, but doesn’t want to end the world he just wants to be a normal dude, AND turned him into a shout out to the last part of the disney afternoon they hadn’t touched, my favorite part of it and a show i’ve been sitting on watching in full for far too long. Motherfucking Gargoyles. 

But given how unique it was for the Disney Afternoon and how much Disney had no desire to ever reference or use the franchise, still no fucking clue as to why they are sitting on money here, I expected it to be sadly but understandably left out. Instead they made Manny into an expy for them, gave him the voice of their leader Goliath, the voice of an angel, and had him say “I LIVE AGAIN” complete with the utterly transcendent theme song. Seriously give it a listen. 

So yeah I couldn’t not mark out at this. Amazing fucking stuff and almost as unexpected as the clone thing and easily my second faviorite part of the fiinale only NARROWLY topped by the curtain call. Which we’ll get to. Keith David took his time getting to this series but they saved the best guest voice for last. Utter tremendous. 

Huey Season?: I”ll save more of this for my breakdown as the season as a whole but yeah while the finale as a whole was good.. I do feel Huey got short changed. He got PLENTY of development this season, and some REALLY good scenes with Bradford.. but ultimately he got overshadowed by the Webby thing. it just never quite felt like Huey got a real resolution to his character arc the way his brothers did. He still got some REALLY good moments, his “Just cough up the information Bentina!” was one of his finest and Danny Pudi did his best. The BUILDUP was good but hte payoff was non existant and easily the weakest part of an otherwise triumphant finale. I feel the final plot was ultimately just a bit too jam packed to really have Huey feel vital to it the way Dewey was to the Della arc and Louie was to his own arc. Both tgot big emotional payoffs in his finale but the most I could gather here was he accepted adventure? I guess. It just really feels off, like I missed the payoff to everything when it’s probably just nonexistent and that bothers me a lot. In a finale that was almost all hit.. this was easily the biggest misstep. I don’t have as much to say here on it.. but that’s because it’s really that simple: they gave Huey’s arc a ton of build up in this last episode and some of his others, really made him into Bradford’s good counterpart.. then just sorta.. forgot it because “oh shit Webby’s scrooge’s daughter kinda need to pull focus here”. Had they given this arc at least one more episode, we might of had time for it. Granted i’m not sure how much they could get away with but we clearly needed at least one more episode and what they chose to jettision, the climax to Huey’s story.. was way more important than they clearly thought and i’m heavily disappointed. 

Bradford’s Big Hole Speaking of payoffs the missing mysteries payoff.. is a mixed bag. I expected all of them to combine some how into some elaborate plan I just wasn’t seeing. In hindsight it does make sense that wasn’t it: Bradford hates overcomplicated schemes, so his would be incredibly simple and require as few moving parts as possible. It still dosen’t stop the fact that the big plan to cap off the entire series built over a season... was to build a giant stygian hole of non existence to throw people into. 

Yes really. Instead of using the Payprus to write them out of existance, if carefully worded or try doing it all at once or anything practical.. Bradford just plans to shove everything he dosen’t want in the world anymore into a hole.  Look i’ts not like it ruins the episode, there’s still tons of tension from him holding Scrooge’s loved ones over his hole and threating to throw them into it’s gaping void. And it’s foiled by a 12 year old just.. shutting it off. Like I get him leaving an off switch on, that’s just common sense.. but why wouldn’t he have a remote or something to turn it back on? one with a password or something to lock it. There’s something inherently underwhelming about as series ending plan that can be summed up “hope no one shuts my unguarded hole. “

The finale does make for it by using the missing mysteries all in VERY clever ways. In fact every episode in the season had some sort of payoff here. It’s what makes up for how baffling the main plan is: every other thing, from the missing mysteries to the guest stars has lead up to this one moment, this one final adventure. Which leads me too

An Hurricane of Payoffs:

So from the top Challenge of the Senior Junior Woodchucks!: Isabella Finch herself ends up being VITAL to the story and to Bradford’s backstory, as does Junior Woodchucking as a whole. Quack Pack!: Gene is the fuel for Blot’s glove.. though he also fucks off right afterwords.. never to be seen again or help out at any point...

Double-O-Duck in You Only Crash Twice!: This was the most unexpected and elevated the episode in hindsight for me as what seemed like a waste of time.. wound up setting up the first part of the finale, and the final battle with Steelbeak, and in clever ways with Steelbeak using the intelliray on himself, Launchpad muttering the map in his sleep via his smart self and Dewey remembering the base layout. 

The Lost Harp of Mervana: Used as a lie detector for that heartbreaking interrogation scene. 

Louie’s Eleven: Introduced Daisy setting up Donald’s plot which i’ll get to. 

Astro BOYD: My baby boy comes back for this episode! He also gets one of the best lines of it “I’m a Head!”. That is the most ralph wiggum the boy has ever been. I’m so proud. 

Rumble For Ragnarok: Okay I was wrong nothing from this one comes back. Still a great episode. Same with the trickening. Both are VERY stellar episodes though, so I give it a pass. You can’t give a nod to EVERYTHING. 

The Phantom and the Sorceress: The Blot and Super Sayian God Super Sayian Lena, as well as Lena’s character development from said episode.  They Put a Moonlander on the Earth!: Launchpad helping Penny realize her purpose.  Forbidden Fountain: Jeeves is un-babied as a trap Let’s Get Dangerous!: Drake and Gosalyn Return, and Solageo’s Circut ends up being vital to the climax.. in the strangest and funnest way to say possible but still. It counts.  Escape from the Impossibin: Beakley’s near breakdown at the idea FOWL has come back. It was already heartbreaking and the first adventure had made it even more so.. but now it’s out and out DEVISTATING. The one thing after her daughter is not only back.. but SHE’S the reason he’s in Scrooge’s life and home and her giving up SHUSH has now left her wide open. 

The Split Sword: Probably the best out of all of these as it ends up directly playing into the climax in an awesome way i’m saving for Bradfords New Gods: Storkules shows up. Okay so that every episode claim bit me on the ass. Also when did these two meet? I mean probably at end of spear of selene but the more important question is WHY DID YOU ROB  ME OF THESE TWO MEETING AT ANY POINT IN THE SERIES. 

The First Adventure: Naturally the Payprus comes back as Does herons needling bradford to stop denying what he is. 

Fight For Castle McDuck: Suprisingly the blessed bagpipes ended up being VITALLY important. And giving us sexiest man alive infinity years running Keith David for an episode.  Last Christmas; Santa Cameo

Beaks in the Shell: Gandra being taken and the Lost Library being setup for this episode. 

Lost Cargo: The Stone of What Was. And Credit where its due what FELT like simply a filler episode with a tantengal connectoin.. ended up probably being one of the most important episodes. Fair play. 

Life and Crimes: Magica turning Bradford into a non sentient bird, like what happened to her brother.... proving once again this episode really REALLY needed as subplot attached to lead into the finale or something. 

Bonus Round: Pilot payoffs by the pound. Seriously Scrooge and Donald’s last lines to each other, the badass return of “I’m a Pilot”, more on that in a minute, and even other smaller call backs like “Keep Getting Up” and webby sucessfully getting some juice to Louie’s pride. All top notch stuff and it really makes the finale FEEL like one with all this coming back full circle. So i’ve hinted at it enough, let’s bring on the bad guy. 

The First Woodchuck

We’ve had some mixed payoffs so let’s get to one that’s just out and out excellent. Bradford Buzzard.. is the best villian the show ever had. Now I will give the caveat that my favorite forever and always will be

You know it, I know it. But Bradford is the best genuine threat of the series, with Marc Evan Jackson perfectly balancing his menace and genuine evil.. with his steadfast believe that he isn’t evil, and his calm, controlled business demeanor. It’s one of the best performances of the show and he deserves all the credit for it and after seeing him in supporting roles for his career, even if his role as Kevin on Brooklyn Nine-Nine is fucking awesome and I’m sad that show is ending, it’s nice to see him step into a big meaty role as the big bad and utterly nail it. 

And the finale.. pays eveyrthing off with him, apart from the plan itself perfectly. Starting off him being revealed as Isabella Finch’s grandson... was  a stroke of genius. I didn’t expect her to come back in play but it gives perfect reason both why he knew about the mysteries.. and why he’s like this. 

Like Scrooge did with his nephews, niece and daughter, Isabella dragged Bradford all around the world seeing the unseen, thinking it was fun. The problem was... Bradford HATED it. He hated every minute of it, like as one post pointed out Rusty Venture from the Venture bros, and felt he should be in school. He wanted a normal life and a normal world and not.. this waking nightmare. So to him, fixing the world, stopping this sort of thing is the only way and that doing so is a good thing. His problem is how he adapted to it.

We see that best in his mirror images, the people he’s in direct contrast with and the show knows it. Starting off with the one he’s not like at all is Scrooge. Part of what makes Bradford perfect is he’s Scrooge’s evil opposiite. The Luthor to His Superman, The Joker to his Batman, the Green Goblin to his Spider-Man, the Iron Monger to his Iron Man, the Sinestro to his Green Lantern. Both come from a long line of adventure but while Scrooge embraces that and loves it, Bradford hates it and wants to destroy it. One is energetic and always ready, the other’s calm, calculated. And one sees what he is.. and the other dosen’t. Simple as that.

But his other mirror’s are more like him, moving onto Huey. Their both woodchucks, both prefer caution and planning, and both want to make some sense of a nonsensical world. Both want to feel safe when they constnatly don’t. One’s prone to panic attack the other’s calm. But what makes Huey the better man... is that he accepts the world is the way he is. It goes all the way back to terror of the terrafirmains. While he was all for adventure he started his doubting things, not beliving things were real.. because the reality that there are some things you just can’t prepare for, just can’t know, and you can’t be always ready.. it shattered him. He nearly let himself die rather than live knowing what’s out there. Webby pulled him out of that, literally and figuratively.. and he never went back. Sure he still tries to have an order to things, still breaks when his structure’s broken.. but it’s gone from a paranoid fear of the unknown and weird to embracing it. To relishing in finding unsolved mysteries and new clues to unlock, to finding new things to explore. He went from seeing this chaotic world as something to run from, to embracing and studying it. To loving it the way it is the way his family loves him for who he is. Bradford.. denies reality belongs the way it is and wants to force it into what HIS idea of it is Superboy Prime Style. The world isn’t waht he thought it should be so he’ll MAKE it that way. Huey grew as a person.. while his arc didn’t have a full payoff.. it still pays off here by showing what he COULD’VE been. had he let his earlier fear and his always present neurosis drive him like Bradford has. Let his big brain make him think he knows what’s better for EVERYONE instead of using it to genuinely help people. Bradford lacks the boys heart and empathy and that’s why he fell. Huey had his family backing him, his best friends coming to get him, and his brothers ultimately rescue him. Bradford.. threw his only true ally down a styigan murder hole. 

Finally.. we have the one that’s not brought up directly.. but is very much there. Donald. While the two don’t interact hardly at all... it’s VERY fitting that Donald is the one Bradford picks to threaten Scrooge with. Like Bradford... Donald grew to hate adventure, he wanted to get as far away from it as possible and took it from his boys for as long as he could. Granted that was in part Bradford’s fault, and that was an INCREDIBLY clever twist: it dosen’t make him entirley responsible or anything that robs the moment of it’s imapct, Della still chose to take it out by herself, she still lied to Donald and she still got lost all by her own decision and impuslviness. But it fits perfectly into it: Bradford’s horrifying smile when Scrooge gets taken away from saving her is even WORSE now with full context, and it still fits that knowing about the project.. he’d want to set it up to screw up Scrooge’s life. I don’t think he sabotaged the rocket or anything, too obvious and something Della would’ve mentioned by now.. but he knew it was unfinished. 

Back to the parallel the diffrence is once again.. change. Donald let go of his hate of scrooge and his past and realized it wasn’t all bad. He let himself grow as a person after a decade of bitterness and anger. But most tellingly and poignantly is Quack Pack... both had a chance to make a world that was safe, normal and what they always wanted. Both out of terror of the danger of this world.  Thing is.. Donald’s was noble. He feared for his kids, his sister, his uncle.. loosing one again and any of them at all. He wanted a normal life to be safe, to hide from that.. but it’s not what THEY wanted or who they are. He accepted that’s not how the world works and how it does.. is still pretty great. And his growth shows: he’s ending the series planning to go off with his girlfriend globetrotting, KNOWING things might not be safe, but diving into adventure, having accepted it as part of him. He even finds some new family and takes in two girls who badly needed a home. He learned to accept things how they are... and Bradford refuses, not beliving in this world as it is and vowing to force it into the way he wants it to be. 

And it’s that inherent selfishness.. that makes Bradford the Cartoon Supervillian he desperatley claims he isn’t. Bradford dosen’t care how many lives it takes, how much worse it makes the world, or how many people he has to stab in the back... the world WILL be “normal”. Bradford cares for no one and nothing except his own ambition. He kills Heron despite her loyality, and his own clones who loyally served him.. simply because their chaos too. No one or nothing else matters, not how they feel, not their right to exist.. only HIS vision. If he wanted to keep the world safe he’d be more of a hero, if still throughly a bastard... but he dosen’t. He wants to make it “normal”. He wants the world the way he thinks it shoudl be and damn anyone else and perfectly represents all the old assholes like him today who refuse to accept something diffrent or against the norm because “that’s how it’s always been”.  Like those real world assholes.. Bradford is wrong. The Duckverse is beauitful how it is in it’s chaos and risk and love. And he just can’t see it because it’s not what he WANTS to see. 

And that’s why I also love the Sword giving him big, black and red classic villianous monster, slowly mutating him as he fights the duck family. Because that’s his inner strength: he may deny he’s a villian but he’s forcing his will on others, refuses to see the world as it is for selfish reasons, and is willing to kill his own friends and allies if it means getting it. He’s the bad guy. And while he denies it to those around him... it’s clear from the fact the sword is working for him that he KNOWS IT, he knows he’s a villian and this is just what he wants but is so up his own ass he can’t SAY it or admit it. And in the end he’s fully beaten by the fact that his forcing his will on everything’s what’s unnatural: While his plan was ingenious, have scrooge sign a contract agreeing never to adventure again, since he’s right Scrooge would solve nonexistance it’s the same reason “launch hulk into space” only resulted in a smarter, more skilled hulk coming back with a space army to get revenge. He just didn’t bank on the inherent rediclousness of the unvierse: family really is the greatest adventure of all.. and the papyrus accepted it. It was the one thing he coudln’t palnf or because he can’t see the woirld how it is.. and that’s why he lost. He was so confident how he saw the world and how he worked was the only way... another way beat him. 

His fate.. was also awesome and endleslly apporirate. Being mocked by the other villians who while less capable aside from Magica, at least admit what they are and what their doing.. and turned into a Vulture for Magica, left to be a mindless lackey in tons of chaotic schemes for the rest of his life. It couldn’t of happened to a nicer jackass. Okay three more sections to go. Let’s go.

Come Sail Away, Come Sail Away, Come Sail Away With Daissssyyyy

Donald’s leaving for a long, romantic adventure with Daisy is the perfect capper to Doanld’s character. Donald started the series hating adventure: blaming it for della being gone, his rough times during it, and wanted to escape it in the boat and keep from loosing his kids to it. He felt like a looser for not having reached his dreams or properly provided for his nephews, when really he did his best and still raised three wonderful kids. A bit overproective, god yes.. but despite his grief and anger he still got through ten years with them on his own merits, hard work and determination. 

As the series went he reconclied with his past, realized Scrooge lost something too and that blaming him soley when it was Della’s choice was just taking his anger out on the one person he had left to take it out on instead of embracing his only family left, accepted Storkules as his friend (JUST his friend), accepted adventure through quack pack realizing that while it may be weird, dangerous and sometimes stressful for him... it’s what his family love doing and they should be who they are instead of who he wants them to be, and finally.. accepted himself by finding Daisy, someone who loves him for who he is, and literally and metaphorically understands him and turned right back around from dumping him to save him from a giant monster she roared at. He’s finally at peace. 

And that’s why leaving. Not forever, He , Daisy, and his girls will be back in a few months or even a month. It’s very clear this is a vacation.. but it’s one  he’s earned.  He’ll always love his boys, his surrogate daughter/cousin, his sister, and his best buddy launchpad. But it’s okay for him to want to form his OWN family, to spend time with his future wife and show her the world. To make his own story for once instead of sharing it. To find his voice. 

I also find it very poetic that a story that started with Donald raising his nephews like their dad.. ends with him adopting two more children. Two kids whose lives had been misrable: rapidly aged in tubes, deemed failures, constantly bellittled by the closest things they have for parents, so desperate for answers they’d kidnap their own sister and betray her trust and do things they know are wrong, And all this.. for nothing as their  Dad kills their mom, bad as she was, and plans to kill them. And Donald’s first thought when given the chance to have a kid free time to himself, with no guilt having earned it? To take these girls in, start his own family, if Daisy’s cool with it mind he thankfully clearly called to talk this over first, and give them their own. Because that’s who Donald is, a good man whose finally earned his happy ending and the life he always wanted.. and accepted who he always was. An adventuerer, a loving fiance.. and  dad. 

The Real Hero: One last one before the bonus round and a quick one. The Launchpad Scene.. was one of the shows best. His arc in this episode of thinking he’s not a hero.. made sense. He’s been plenty heroic.. but his boyfriend is a martial arts and gymnastics savant and one of his three best friends has a giant suit of armor and is a genius. But the payoff made even more: He may not be the strongest, the most skilled or the smartest.. but he has the heart of a hero. He’s always been the kindest, most trusting, most friendly one of the main family, a guy who never gives up, even when he should, never surrenders and loves everybody. And that’s why he’s inspired so many people: Fenton to not give up after his firing and keep going, leading to his path as Gizmoduck. When Drake was lost, his fllm gone and his mentor seemingly dead (In fact skulking around the sewers like an evil ninja turtle), and his future unclear... TOLD HIM he could be Darkwing, that he could become the hero they both ihdolized and the inspiration to kids he wanted to be by his own bootstraps, and he gave Gosalyn faith in darkwing and hope at at time she had none. He also gave those mice their freedom. Not as poignant but you try creating the rescue rangers and see how far you get. I’ve lost a lot of chipmunks and mice that way. 

Launchpad’s last stand makes up for his lack of being in the season during the final  half. Launchpad realizing that despite his quirks he’s just as noble, valuable and wonderful as his families, both of them. And that he is a pilot. Sure he gets the gizmoduck armor.. but the armor isn’t what makes hi ma hero... i’ts being launchpad that makes him a hero. Loving adopted dad, wonderful partner, best friend... and a pilot

Bonus Round:

Okay this is just stray stuff from throughout the episode I didn’t have several paragraphs worth of material on before we get to the final thoughts. But it had so much good I can’t not talk about it. So...

Gyro calling Little Bulb BOYD’s brother. My heart wept. So sweet. As was him fixing his son at the end. BOYD has the two loving families he deserves.. and the brother he deserves.. and the brother he dosen’t deserve who will probably also is skulking around the sewers like an nafarious ninja turtle as the series ends. 

Gosalyn fixing up Darkwing’s outfit for him. Awwww. Adopt that child you coward. Also if they don’t base the reboot on frank’s work here, I will riot. 

“Just cough up the information Bentina!” that was just pure comedy gold especially the sheer fear radiating off him. Also right. 

Manny’s “I can explain” and , once he has silky smooth keith david voice going “Come on man I just want to live my life.” That man is a legend. 

Dewey and Louie just not talking the “you kids stay behind shit” pointing out both their stake in this and how they’ll just go anyway and him proudly accepting it. Given the kids turned the tied of things a lot, good call. 

Dewey and Don Karnage singing their own background music as they air joust. Hell yes. 

Pepper got a promotion! Goodf or her... it’s meaningless now but hey she has a partner in both senses. 

Speaking of pepper she had the best line of the episode “He’s a grown man who has the strength of a baby!”. Only Amy Sedaris could’ve given that delivery just the perfect way she did. 

The Funzo’s opening sequence was dynamite, from how well set up it was as an infilfration, to Webby having learned how to scam free drinks (Louie was so proud), to Lena cheating for her sister at DDR, to Scrooge paying full price.. it was wonderful> The payoff was also great as rather than be mad her special day was used as part of an elabroate spy operation.. she’s giddy. Because of course she is. Two specitic  bits that get their own items

The Cabs came back one last time! It dosen’t effect my now finished retrospective, but after spending all that time with them it was nice to see them for what will probably be the last time for some time. 

The whole scene where Della finds out about the trip. Just all of it. Her casually and accidentally choking daisy TWICE, Fethry, who sadly did not get an episode this season, being the one to blab about it and only realizing it .. after repeating that they told him not to, and Gladstone who not only was casually winning at Skeeball while his cousins both got pissed at it, relateable as hell, but then awkwardly escorting his baby cousin out of the situation. 

“Satstically with Hubert gone one of us should be pancking but WHO I ASK YOU WHO?” As if I needed more evidence they were perfect for each other. 

Lena just.. slumping over after Dewey finally has her drop the cloak. Comedy gold. BOYD scanning her later likewise so. 

The second best line and line read of the episode goes to Louie/Bobby Monihan. “That is not comforting, I do not want to die”. He couldn’t of summed up Louie in one line any better. 

Ludvwig was a national treasure.  Not only did I squeel internally when it turned out he was alive but the explination for it was hilarious as it was batshit, and him just causally revealing Webby’s origin was fucking amazing “Ill give you all a moment ot process” The acomplanying “bless me bagpipes” was also amazing. 

I do wish we found out where FOWL went but it was probably to leave the remains all free to come back as villians of the week. Frank outright said they had a tailspin sequel episode ready to go.

The Webby and June fight was a masterpiece and I REALLY need to do a top 12 fights list someday. 

Lena connecting with the new twins , having pretty much the same background of being created by a villian for shitty reasons. 

“one is silver and the other is “ “Flintheart glomgold!” they should consider a teamup. What’s a little brainwashing between friends?

“We’re sisters’. No you and violet are sisters, Webby is your girlfriend your both just in denial. I only say this because Webby also thinks Della and Penny are just friends and I feel she simply dosen’t know what being gay is or again is in denial. They’ll get there. Plus it feels like Lena just didn’t want to loose her and would say anything which is valid. 

Curtain Call and Final Thoughts:

The Curtain Call was the perfect way to end a spectacular finale. Each bit of it’s a masterpiece, and every character gets one last awesome, heartfelt and hilarous goodbye with the camera and ending how it should: on our five most important characters, in a circle, together, smiling, freefaling into the next adventure. I”d have it no other way and any other series finale credits and last moments will now pale in comparison. 

So the finale as a whole is messy, some bits aren’t resolved as good as they could’ve been, Huey go the shaft, and it REALLY needed another episode leading into it to help take the pressure off. While it needed 90 minutes for the plot it had to tell, it needed more to build up to that and while the season was tight with episodes they BADLY needed one more they didn’t get or even a subplto to help take the load off this episode. 

But even with that... it was an utterly awesome finale on par with other recent standouts like “Let’s Fight to the End”/ “Thank you For Watching the Show” (Both feel like finales to me but in diffrent ways), “The Future” and the whole arc leading up to it, both parts of “Heart” and “Nice While It Lasted” . It was heartstopping, heartrending and heartfelt and ended the show as it should be: with over the top insanity, big reveals, a hell of a final battle.. and a focus on family. It’s not the perfect finale, and I defintely need more ducktales.. but it’s still a classic one and one of the series finest hours.. literally in this case. 

I.. am going to miss this series. I went into it before but it’s thanks to this series I make a living. If you’d like to contribute to that, I have a patreon, patreon.com/popculturebuffet, my next stretch goal is a darkwing duck epsiode a month so  kick in a buck won’t you? and take comissions so if theres an episode from the first two seasons that’s not part of the season 1 arc (I’m almost done there) or Lena’s story (already being paid for that) feel free to shoot me a line to comissoin it for five bucks an episode. 

But more than that it was an excellent well crafted show that took a franchise I love and updated it for a new generation. My nieces love it, I love it, and I will always love it for that. Young or old, this show as phenominal, it was stupdendous.. it was a duckblur. It will remain in my heart for probaly the rest of my life among such shows as Steven Universe, Parks and Recreation, The Venture Bros, Letterkenny, DBZ Abriged, and so many more that have touched my life. It was simply the best. And i’m going to miss it. Thank you for reading this, i’ll see you at another rainbow, if not one quite like this.

Next on this Blog: Duck week continues after this review took two days to complete. Sorry about that. Our heroes head to castle McDuck and Dewey is forced to face the consequences of his actions, while Scrooge yells at his dad , his dad yells at him and his mom is the most precious thing tha’ts ever lived. Also Launchpad in Donald Cosplay. And it won’t stop there as till saturday the rest of the week is all dedicated to Ducktales as I finish up the Della and Lena arcs for season 1 and get started on Lena’s last three episodes. So if you liked some ducktales, stick around. And once again.. thank you. 

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Voyage - Bit 3)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

This has settled down to a once a week post at the moment. I am still writing, but I’ve been writing the Prologue because I realised that I hadn’t written enough backstory to support the main story. So expect 4000-odd words of Jeff landing on Mars in the near future.

In the meantime, here is a little terrible twos being good bros.

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all their patient help. I’ve been a pain lately, so they have suffered greatly for my fic :D

I hope you enjoy this last bit of Part Two.

-o-o-o-

Gordon sat back and watched his father and Virgil leave the cockpit. John followed a moment later.

Gordon wasn’t hungry, not by a long shot. His stomach was still protesting the jump and he was quite happy staying where he was.

He wasn’t surprised that Scott, after reassuring himself that Alan was okay monitoring the course correction, disappeared after John. Gordon did not want to be in the room when that encounter happened. Not that he didn’t have his own beef with the astronaut over this. He couldn’t believe John would support their father going into space. John, of all people knew the health ramifications.

Speaking of which…

He unbuckled and pushed off his chair in the direction of his father’s chair. Formerly, his chair. He was of two minds regarding that fact, but considering he didn’t think Dad should even be in space, where he sat was of the least importance.

He hooked his foot around the base of the seat and pulled himself in beside his little brother.

Gordon’s eyes danced over the flight controls. “How’s it going?”

Alan glanced at him. “Computer is performing perfectly. We’ll stop to drop the buoy in about twenty-five minutes.” A raised eyebrow. “How’s the tummy?” And yes, there was a small smirk accompanying that.

“It’s fine.” As if to penalise him for lying to his little brother, his gut twisted.

Gordon let out a groan.

The smirk turned to a worried frown. “You sure you’re okay.”

He grunted at his brother. “I’ll live.” And he remembered that there were four more jumps there and likely five more on the way back. “Maybe.”

“Get Virg to drug you up. You’ll enjoy it more.”

‘Enjoy’ was rarely in the same sentence as ‘space’ in Gordon’s book. “Might do that.” Puking in zero-g was just messy and not to mention gross. “How come you aren’t feeling it?”

Alan shrugged. “Been playing with g-forces since I was a kid? This isn’t much different.”

Gordon grunted at him again.

They sat there together for a moment or two. There was something about hanging with his little brother that was different from hanging with his older brothers. More relaxed maybe, or just…different.

“Not often my ‘bird carries yours. This has to be only the second time.”

Gordon blinked. “Yeah? I think so. Not too many oceans in space.”

“Tell that to the Jupiter system.”

Space oceans were a thing. After the mad dash that was their trip to Europa, Gordon had made a point of reading up on all the extra-terrestrial oceans he could find.

Earth, of course, was the only body in the solar system with surface liquid water. There were buckets of ice on many of the other planets and moons, but none of that interested the aquanaut. He preferred his water well above zero degrees celsius.

Europa had been fascinating and he was still basking in the accolades from the scientific paper that he, Alan and his heroes, the Pendergasts, had jointly written. Readings from Four’s scanners had recorded everything and Earth’s scientific compliment were still going nuts years later. Tracy Industries had helped fund a proper scientific expedition to the moon.

Hmm, come to think of it, they should probably drop in and say hi on the way back. Would be interesting to catch up with Gwen and her team in person instead of over holovid.

Would be hilarious to knock on their door as a surprise. Hi, we were just in the area…

He grinned.

“What are you up to?” Alan was eyeing him suspiciously.

Gordon snorted. “Just thinking we should drop in on the Europa Extra-terrestrial Marine Expedition on the way back. I owe Gwen a jump-scare.”

His brother tilted his head, obviously calculating the possibility. “Could do. You should speak to Scott.”

That dragged him back to reality. “I guess it depends on Dad.”

Blue eyes darted in his direction. “Dad will be okay. You know that, don’t you?”

Gordon found he didn’t have the energy to get angry. “How can you know that?”

“I don’t.” Alan went quiet a moment. “But then how do you think I manage each time you go out on a mission?”

The aquanaut stared at him. “What?”

“Well, your health has never been and never will be one hundred percent, yet you still dart down to the bottom of the ocean, jump off high places and do things just like the rest of us. Do you think I don’t think of losing you all the time?”

Gordon froze a moment digesting that his little brother still worried about that… “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Dad…okay, I get your point. But I’m also worried about Scott.”

“What?” Alan stared at him.

“Can’t you see what this is doing to him?”

“Er, what?”

No, Alan hadn’t seen. “I have never seen Scott so terrified.”

“I repeat – what?”

“When Dad told us he was going. Scott just…” He swallowed. “Dad is hurting Scott and I, for one, am not going to stand for it. Virg isn’t either.”

Alan was staring at him. “You said Dad was cold and didn’t care. Abrupt, yes, that’s Dad, but I can’t believe he doesn’t care.” The astronaut shook his head.

“If he cared, he wouldn’t have come.”

“Gords-“

“Alan, trust me on this.”

His little brother stared at him again. “I trust you, Gordon, you know that. It’s a given. But I also trust Dad. He knows what he’s doing.”

Gordon pressed his lips together. “He doesn’t know everything and I really wish you guys would stop worshipping him as a god.”

“He’s not a god! He’s just…Dad.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem.”

There was silence after that. Gordon not willing to berate Alan any further. It wasn’t Alan’s fault. He didn’t have the history with Dad Gordon did. He hadn’t had to fight to swim. Hadn’t seen Virgil struggle with his choices.

Hadn’t seen Scott give his everything to his father only to have it…ignored.

But no, that was history. Long ago. Before the Oort Cloud. Gordon had his issues regarding his father. He loved him, but he was a difficult man under all that passion. Being the son of a hero wasn’t everything it could be.

Scott worshipped the ground his father walked on. Gordon, not so much.

To see his father hurt Scott like that…Gordon’s blood just boiled.

“Is Scott okay?” Alan’s voice was smaller than usual.

“That’s just it, Allie. I don’t think so. You know how he gets. Like before the Oort Cloud. I, for one, don’t want him going there again.” ‘There’ being more a mental place than a physical.

Alan’s head dropped. “No.”

A voice rumbled behind them and both jumped. Michael was talking into comms, to Scott, something about the aft sensor array.

Crap. It was a sign of his distraction that he had forgotten the Mechanic was there. He glanced over, but the tattooed man showed no sign of even knowing they existed.

Gordon sighed.

A hand landed on his knee. “It’s going to be okay.” Blue eyes sought his. “It will be, Gords.”

He let out a breath, suddenly wishing he had Alan’s faith.

If anything happened to Dad…

“It. Is. Going. To. Be. Okay.” The hand on his leg squeezed tight.

But Gordon didn’t answer.

-o-o-o-

The drop of the communication buoy saw all of them back in the cockpit. John was the mastermind behind this little exercise and Virgil was, as usual, very proud of his space brother.

The design was ingenious, of course. John had taken a portion of the T-drive technology and applied it to communications. The same Tunnels created by the engine could be used to push what would otherwise be a simple comms signal through to the next buoy at a vastly accelerated rate. His brother had been working with Brains to realise this technology. Back in Earth orbit, a satellite connected the new network to the planetary network. On the way out, they would connect the Jupiter system. On the way back, they would connect Mars. Time delay communications would be a thing of the past.

Possibly as a tension reliever, John’s first signal went straight to Lady Penelope.

Gordon’s demeanour shifted immediately. His excited babbling did much to lighten the atmosphere in the cabin. The uninformed wouldn’t have been blamed for thinking he hadn’t spoken to her for years. Virgil knew for a fact the two of them had had a conversation shortly before they left.

The concept of ‘young love’ made him feel old.

And indicated just how tired he really was.

But sleep was something he couldn’t see happening very soon. Sure, he could try to take a nap en route. Hell, he had to. But his head was full of worry that likely wouldn’t let him rest.

Scott let Gordon babble for a full minute before cutting him off with the mission. Perhaps the commander saw how much the atmosphere needed to be lifted from the black depths they had fallen into.

Virgil hated it when his family argued. It didn’t happen often...okay, maybe they did quarrel every now and again - it came with the territory of working together. But nothing deep like this. Nothing that cut into the core of their very foundation. The surety that held them together.

Virgil sighed.

“Ready for jump.” Scott’s voice was all command and it forced Virgil to focus.

Pre-jump checklist as his brother called out to each of them.

“Airframe?”

“Craft secure. We are go.”

Blue eyes flickered to Michael. “Propulsion.”

“T-drive ready.”

“Helm.”

Alan’s back was tensed, his hand on the lever that would propel them further away from Earth. “Ready.”

The familiar countdown, such a part of their lives. Scott’s voice carried security...and Virgil’s faith.

Alan’s arm moved.

And the Excel jumped.

-o-o-o-

Next

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 8

Accept your Wild side

The moon is high up in the sky, and Wild somehow does not fear it turning blood red. That was one of the things that left him wrongfooted before. There are many things he didn't know about the past. But this is one he is glad for. He doesn't want to imagine monsters coming back to life here.

The ranch, at night, is peaceful. So peaceful. Earlier, Malon's singing lulled the animals to sleep, and probably half the group, but it only made his stomach twist. She had laughed and wished them good night, her hand lingering on her husband's shoulder. Time never looked so happy, so relaxed as he did around his wife, well at home. He might have fled the second the others had fallen asleep.

Lying on the rooftop of the barn, Wild's chest ache with guilt.

One more thing to the list. One more thing Hylia wants him to remember.

He's trying, but can't find the words. Can barely make the effort to try. What will he tell Time? How will he... how can he apologize for something like this?

The tearing, rushing sound of shadow magic makes his heart leap for joy. It's the sound that told Wild the amnesiac that he didn't have to travel alone. That there'd be someone to watch over him, in the dark, in the storm, in the cold.

It's one of those sounds that speaks of home like Sidon's boastful greetings, the sing-song of little ritos or the taste of cold melon in desert shade.

Twilight materializes on the edge of the rooftop, furry and all, and Wild struggles to control his breathing for a second longer. He feels the tears close, and he knows Twilight notices them all too well with his wolf senses. Somedays, the shift is instantaneous, a steady hand on his back, a desire to lean back against a solid chest and furred shoulders.

Somedays, it's a beast that settles over his lap, and Wild takes the added weight on his legs like he's been given a second chance. He sighs, hangs his head, and, hands through fur, whispers 'thank you' as he lets the comfort of his brother's presence sink in. There's no need for other words. He runs them through his mind, and they weaken when he gives in and lets go of his tears.

'Thank you,' he tells Hylia for the hundredth time. For giving him that much longer with Twilight.

(He'd been prepared. He had known and Wolfie hadn't hidden it, as well as a wolf could tell him. That time he'd seen the black particles fly skyward, he'd known that was it, his friend was back to the realm of the goddesses.)

(He'd faced Ganon without fear, without faltering, and he'd rescued Zelda after a hundred years of fighting, and he had finally let the shame untie itself around his heart.)

(But he hadn't realized how much it would hurt to walk a lonely road, to see wild wolves that were a blue-ish gray instead of green-hued. To hear barking and never see his friend again.)

(Wild had been told his past self had lost everyone. Wolfie was the first one he did as himself.)

He's dried out the tracks on his face when the shadows shift, and the weight disappears.

“Need to talk about it?” is Twilight's opening move.

Wild thinks about it. “Probably.”

“Do you want to?”

The idea makes his mouth taste of ash.

“Later.”

Twilight doesn't say anything to that, and instead brushes the roof before sitting down and lying on his back. “Recognize any stars?”

Wild chuckles. “Still haven't found the Goatherd up there. Face it, it's a fictional one.”

“All constellations are made up, cub,” Twi replies with a cocky grin.

Wild wags his finger. “No, no, see, if they're in a book somewhere, it's official. It's science! Zelda told me so.”

Twilight rolls his eyes then leans back against the tiles of the roof. “Suuuure it is. Man, if only we had books in Ordon. Silly us.”

The warmth in his chest turns into gentle chuckles, and it's easy to lie back down, just close enough to brush his big brother's side.

He waits it out. It's hard enough to vocalize that he prefers not to take the initiative. It's a few more minutes of calm before Twi picks up on the hint.

“What is it about?”

“The usual.”

Fear. Failure. Disappointment. Guilt. The look in a stranger's eyes, the judgement and demands. That shrinking feeling that makes the air around him want to crush him paper thin. It's the usual. But this time, he can't help how the fear is strong, how the guilt strangles him. It's no wandering stranger, no fragment of his past berating him for things that happened in the great blank that was Link Before.

It's Time. The Old Man. Their Leader.

Twilight hums.

“Have I ever told you about the first time I met an Hylian soldier?”

No. For all they talk and are at ease, unless Wild asks, Twilight doesn't volunteer too much of his past. He's aware Twilight doesn't want to burden him, thinks he has too much on his plate. It's irritating, most times. So he cannot help feel a little eager even when he shakes his head.

Twilight's corner smirk feels a little sheepish. “Didn't think so? Ain't my proudest moment.”

“You? Having done anything you are not proud of? But aren't you the perfect, dutiful hero who knows when it's proper to scout and not?”

“Go swallow a bokoblin gut risotto.”

Wild rolls his eyes at the mention of the we-promised-not-to-mention-that-experiment dish. “I'll make you a portion.”

Twilight suddenly looks a little pensive. “... Think we could trick Fancy into trying it?”

Wild smirks. “There, your hidden fae side. The others never believe me when I mention it.”

“Balance, young hero.”

“Right. Story time!” Wild claps his hands. “So, your first time meeting a Hylian soldier?”

It sobers Twi right up. “... T'was at the start of my journey. Right after the point of no-return. The children of my village were taken, my childhood friend kidnapped, and the adults in a panic. I rushed out of town, and well, got immediately captured and turned into a wolf.”

“... Nice start.”

The bonk on the head is worth it. It wasn't even painful. “Shush. I'm bleeding out and you mock me, you disrespectful child. Where was I? Oh, yeah, turned into a wolf, captured, imprisoned and left to rot in a dungeon.”

The air chills, and Wild finds the story a hell lot less funny. He can't even make a joke about putting a wolf in a cage. It'd be like sand on a wound.

“I met someone there, who helped me escape. Lemme tell you, Cub, dungeons aren't a great place to develop a much greater sense of smell. Honestly, I probably wasn't thinking straight for a bit. I just wanted out. Fresh air. Anything but the walls closing in on me...” – Wild feels the shudder against his body – “I was near the exit when I met him. A proud Hylian soldier of her majesty's army. Right there in the dungeon, left a mere spirit by the twilight's influence. And he... he was cowering in a corner... I hated him.”

There's something to the weight of it that strikes Wild at his core. The sort of darkness that Twi doesn't show, that nothing he does hint at. But even with that, the thing that comes to mind most is what the story means now.

“Wow... ” Wild starts, his voice brimming with forced awe. “You're about as subtle as a goat's kick to the nuts, Twi.”

Warriors and Legend have nothing on the absolutely, smug little smirk on Twilight's face. “Still bitter, aren't cha?”

Wild throws his arms in the air. “Fighting Ganon wasn't half as painful!”

“Well, I hate to say 'I told you so'...”

“Liar! You live for it!”

Twi chuckles. “Yeah. But come on, I told you to face the goats head on.”

“They've got massive horns!”

“And legs. Now you know why no one wrestles cattle from behind. Predators are the only ones that approach the hind legs, and yeah, they get the kicks too.” A more serious look flitter on Twilight's face. “Knew a man or two that died that way, back home. Just, one day, startled an animal and it kicked. Landed on the wrong spot. The wrong rib. The head. Don't mess around cattle, Cub.”

Wild winces. Far more somber than before, he nods for his brother's sake. It's not like he never saw the horses kick when he tried to tame them. Just that he was good at avoiding them even when he was thrown off. He wants to say he would never get killed in such a stupid way, but...

(It had stopped raining, but the rocks were still wet in the shadowed spots. He hadn't known until...)

(He'd woken up to Mipha's voice, and Wolfie's panicked barks and tears, and he'd promised – promised – to never be so careless again.)

“What happened with the soldier?” he asks, because now his mind is on ghosts, and he's never known his big brother to hate them.

Twilight, annoyingly, shrugs. “Well, I broke the curse of twilight on Castle Town, so he's probably just patrolling the street like any other guard.”

“... You didn't look? You never met him again? Not even when you walked back into Castle Town later? I thought you had to do a bunch of quests there?”

“No,” Twilight starts, then frowns a bit to himself. “Maybe?”

A groan builds up in the back of his throat. “Twiliiiiight...”

Said big dumb oaf pushes him, just hard enough for a stumble. “It's not like I got a good look at his face. Or...” He looks away, quieter. “That I had nothing else on my mind at the time. I'd... I'd just been turned into a wild animal and asked to help an imp with some grandiose task. I was running around dungeons, surrounded by ghoul rats, and... there it was, the first glimpse of hope I might have had.”

Wild gulps. He hates to imagine Twilight, Hylian or wolf, ragged, hurt, looking for help and finding...

“He was cowering. I was just a farmer, kidnapped, stolen from home and twisted into this new form. I needed help. And there was a soldier, who'd signed up for this, for the protection of Hyrule and its citizens... She called me naïve. Asked me if I really thought a light worlder could brave the twilight.”

She. Wild tries not to tick at the mention of that one. Does not ask her name, because he knows a wound when he hears one. He focuses on the dungeon. The dark and damp, the chains he recalls, and he places Wolfie there, scared, and it makes him burn with anger to have the first person his brother come across turn him away.

But Twilight's lips are twisted in a grimace, his eyes heavy as they take in the night over Lon Lon Ranch.

“He was scared. And I hated him. Was I really any better? A man who couldn't take a step in the twilight without passing out? When my bones rattled with the thoughts of those critters crawling all over my body again?”

“You pushed through,” Wild says, because Twilight had to have. Twilight won. Twilight went on his quest and he saved Hyrule. Twilight hadn't... he...

“Yeah. I went through Hyrule, and one by one, saved the Light Spirits, reforged the Mirror of Twilight, fought the Usurper and the King of Evil. And along the way, I picked up some allies, mourned the people I was too late for and embraced those I saved. But I didn't forget that man. When I saw the kids of my village, locked in a basement in fear of monsters, I remembered. And it was a little easier to forgive. When I reached Zora's domain and saw the hundreds frozen in ice, the ghost of the queen begging me to help her son... ”

His voice falters, becomes thick with emotion. And Wild can't help flash back to Muzu's accusation, to Sidon's sad smile when he mentions Mipha's gift to him. He hadn't thought...

There's something knowing in Twilight's eyes. “Gifted me a Zora armor and everything. Some things don't change, Cub.”

“They should,” he whispers, unable to keep the raw hurt from it.

Twi snakes an arm around him, and brings him close. “Aye, they ought to, but sometimes they don't. It's out of our hands. We don't get to make the world the goddesses put us in. Just what we do in it. Maybe I don't bow to the guards in my Hyrule, Cub, but I don't hate them either. They were men. Just that. I was wrong to hate them for something out of their control.”

Twilight really is as subtle as a goat's kick to the nuts.

Maybe it's his turn. Like a bomb in a shrine. Go off once, and watch the whole thing crumble.

“There was a Lon Lon Ranch in my Hyrule...” he starts, slow, with a sob building deep in his chest, “I found the ruins. You could make a beeline from it to Castle Town. But... it was overrun by guardians.”

The wood under him feels hot. Feels like it's burning, like it'll collapse any second now as a reminder that even when his fellow heroes build themselves a life, he'll be right there around the corner to ruin it all.

“It just... we're here now, and there are plenty of ruins in my era, but I never... I never met the owners, but Malon's so kind to us, and the Old Man trusts me, and I can't bear thinking of their disappointment when they learn-”

“Cub, if your next sentence includes any variation of the word 'failure', I will shove you off this roof.”

Wild blinks. His words peter out. He sees the absolute seriousness of Twilight's threat. Then, confidently, “You wouldn't. I could be injured.”

Twilight's glare goes deadpan. “I will shove you off that side” – he points to the other side of the roof – “where we shoveled the cow manure. It won't hurt. Even if you land head first.”

That threat is a great deal more plausible.

There is silence, some variation that hints at the snores of the cows and horses in the barn below, that suggests the song of crickets and buzzing fairies by the grass, the stern, patient glare that only grows sharper every second it lasts.

Then, slowly, Wild scoots away from his big brother.

“Wild!” Twilight harshly calls.

“I'm sorry!” Wild yelps, taking off and running around the chimney to put something between them.

“Don't apologize! It wasn't your fault!”

They circle the chimney, feinting left and right.

“I was the Chosen Hero! I trained for the Calamity my entire life!”

“You had an entire country's worth of people helping! How can it be your fault alone? They dug those machines up, they armed themselves with weapons that Ganon had already faced! None of your people saw it coming, but you still fought to your death, even after everyone else had passed! Why is it your fault?!”

“Then why did everyone blame me?” he breaks, and he feels the low, background pain suddenly rush at the front of his mind. Every little sneer, every snide comment, every moment he pulled down his hood just to avoid recognition...

“They were wrong! All of them! The whole fucking country!” Twilight growls back. “They put Hyrule's destruction on your hands, when it was Ganon. Half of them weren't even alive when it happened. They had no right to blame you! If they wanted the world to be better, they should have made it better themselves! And if they couldn't, they didn't have the right to blame the only person that was still trying!”

His knees shake. He needs to grab onto the chimney's edge to stay upright. The want in his heart hurt so much. He feels his whole being lean into Twilight's words, scream at him to believe, to push past the memories and remember only the good, the smiling greetings, the cheers, the wedding, the sight of Zelda finally, finally freed from her battle to protect Hyrule. “Twilight,” he croaks. “Why didn't you... why did you stay? You knew... I'd died. I was a clueless, directionless, scattered-brain idiot! I'd done nothing to be worth your help. I was just like that guard. Why didn't you… Why don't you hate me?”

The hand that grabs his wrist closes with a steel grip. The shock jumbles his self-loathing enough that he glances up, and meets the fiercest blue he's ever seen. “Look me in the eyes and say you think I  can  hate you.”

It's like getting sucker punched. All the air in his lungs leave. Even though his panicked, overworking brain screams that yes, yes he could, hadn't he just told him all about him hating the failure of Hyrule's army? But he can't levy that knowledge against everything he knows now. He can't even make it counterweight the idea that, maybe, being steady now meant he found his balance before. It's all meaningless noise in the end. Wild just needs one look at Twilight, and even his worst insecurities relent.

“It's different! You're you,” he says, helplessly gesturing to all of Twilight. Like that's supposed to explain everything. “And-”

“And Time's Time,” Twilight completes. “Malon's Malon. Need I go on?”

“It's not the same!”

“Fine!”

Twilight gives him The Look. Not his imitation of Time's disappointed Look. But his patented I-will-outstubborn-you-and-the-goddesses-themselves Look. Wild is intimately aware that none of his companions have seen it as frequently as him. They haven't learned to fear it yet even though they should. They really, really should.

(Twi wrestles goats taller than him for fun. He wrestles gorons for fun. Wild himself knows better than to try that stunt after Daruk! Twi's insane and no one else has noticed!)

Teeth grind together, and there's the bitten out words that push him off balance.

“There is no Lon Lon Ranch in my Hyrule. Is that my fault? Should I get down on my knees before the Old Man and beg for forgiveness?”

Wild's reply dies in his throat, a strangled croak.

That can't be right.

He knows that Twilight's before him and after Time. Twilight's said so, the records existed about both of them, the order they were in, and Twilight so obviously knew the Old Man before this started...

But... Twilight had never mentioned the Lon Lon Ranch before. Part of him had been assuming... Except, no, it's always been about Ordon, the province of Hyrule from which he hails, the farmer village and the ranch on which he herds his precious, dumbass goats.

There's no Ordon either, Wild realizes with a strangle grasp of guilt. What part of his predecessors did he not ruin?

A hand cuffs the back of his head, and the shock of pain is just enough to get him to stick his tongue out. Twilight, in response, raises an eyebrow like he can read his thoughts. He probably can though, given how much practice he has.

“Ordon's gone by the time of your era, Cub. Renamed and probably rebuilt differently. I wouldn't recognize it if I walked the land myself. Don't try and shoulder that.”

But what else is he supposed to do about it?

“Let it be.”

But the lost-

Twilight hooks an arm around Wild's neck, and pulls him close. “Don't try to hold on to long gone dreams. Not everything's meant to last forever, Cub.”

Wild averts his gaze, who is suddenly so heavy he can only look down. Can only blink away the beginning of tears. He knows. He knows that nothing lasts forever, even this quest, but... why can't anyone stay a little while longer?

Twilight's voice softens, low and rumbling like Wolfie's noises. “We'll have to go our own way. We ain't nobodies. We're the Heroes of Courage. There's always gonna be someone in need of us in our own times. But you won't be alone. There's your Zelda, and your new Champions. Sidon'd love to cheer you up. And Farore knows Yunobo would need your delicate touch to get him out of his shell.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Did I tell you about that time Zelda asked him to test a new model of cannons?”

Twi snorts, and the two of them manage to sit back down, lean against the chimney. His thoughts drift away from the memories of the ruined ranch, when time passes them by and a shooting star twinkles above.

“Farore's tear,” Twi points, “say a prayer.”

Wild indulges, though it goes toward Hylia. Quickly enough, he opens his eyes again, and shoots his big lump of a brother a look. “What will you do? Once we defeat whoever's behind our warping?”

“Well, probably try and avoid Zelda,” he says, sheepish, one finger scratching his cheek.

His bafflement is written all over his face, Wild knows, but he still needs to ask, in the flattest voice possible, “What?”

“My Queen and I ain't... It's more of a knightly what's it called. Fancy would know. Ah, whatever, call it what it is: respect, trust. And I know she will insist on a report. She's no fool, that one. Knows I wouldn't go off gallivanting for weeks and months on end for no reason. And she's not fond of being left in the dark. But I'll be darned if I ain't making a bee line for Ordon once this is over. I... I want to hug Colin, share an ale with Rusl and Uli, learn which of Lumi's firsts I missed, which I'll have to make up for the little lass.”

Lumi, Twilight's youngest adopted sibling. Few years old. Probably spoiled rotten the way Twi talks about her. In his mind, he pictures... a little brunette, tugging at Twilight's legs to be spun around and get piggyback rides. Maybe picking even a small stick, to play fight like her giant brother.

And Twilight would turn around, to ask Warriors to help train their little fighter and... blink at nothing. Shrug. That's what Wild's afraid of. The day he'll wake up and find he only needs to make breakfast for one instead of nine. That the others will move on and he will have to build yet another place for himself.

He hums, not wanting his voice to betray him.

“Home's where you make it, Cub.” Gentle fingers brush Wild's hair. He melts into the touch. “Sounds hypocritical when I'm the one who's always had a stable place, but even on my journey, especially near the end, I was home too. Home was a campfire and a princess with wits sharper than my sword and hair shifting like flames. It was the quiet of a cold night in the desert with lizards roasting over crackling embers. Back then, I was as happy as a goat in pasture. It never felt like it would end.”

A haunted shadow passes in Twilight's gaze.

“But it did,” he whispers. “It did, and now we're here, a new adventure, a new home for us.”

Wild hates the pain in his brother's voice. Hates that he sees his own hurt reflected, and a selfish part of him is even glad. It feels like love, this understanding. “I'll miss you,” he says, the only thing that can convey just how much he dreads the future.

“And I'll miss you too, you wild cub. No matter what insane scheme you cook up in that brain of yours, I'll miss every second of it.” Then he pulls back. “Also, don't be daft, you paid nearly five thousand rupees for that house in Hateno and chopped I don't know how many trees, you ain't just throwing that away on a whim, Cub. Sell it if you want to move.”

The non-sequitur throws him off. “I'm not!” Wild stammers, blushing. “Bolson would freak if I let it go to ruin a second time! And I still have to show Zelda around the place too.” The snicker makes him look down, grumble. “Mother cucco.”

“Good,” – the hand is rougher, no less affectionate, when it scrambles his fringe – “some sense at long last! There's hope for the future!”

Hope. Maybe Twi's not just a stupid farmer hunk. Maybe he should give that a try.

Wild's grin is a small, hopeful thing. “Who knows? Maybe we'll get to go on a third adventure together.”

He's heard a few curses about the goddesses from the others before, but he knows Hylia can't be  too cruel if she sent Twilight his way. He'll never admit it in front of witnesses, but, at the very beginning, he needed someone to watch over him. Though, Wild thinks with a bit of irritation, only at the beginning. He learns quickly. And it was mostly... the loneliness afterward.

Twilight sighs, wistful and despairing, and teasing. “That'd be something. More months of babysitting.”

Wild, despite himself, rises to the bait. “Excuse me. Which one of us attracted the wrong attention and got chased through Hyrule Fields?”

Instead of the sheepish, boyish grimace Wild was expecting, Twilight's mouth split open in a wide shit-eating grin. “You were overthinking it.”

“O-overthinking...? Wait. You did that on purpose?! There were three guardians! We nearly died!”

“Nearly never counts, young hero.”

“I broke twelve weapons!”

“You were overburdened. It would have slowed you down.” Twilight waits the right amount of heartbeat in incredulous silence, then adds: “Also, you had spent twenty minutes trying to decide whether or not you should replace your broadsword with that flaming flamberge. After that fight, you had plenty of space in your inventory. No need to hunt some Farore-damned koroks.”

Wild stares, his jaw hanging. The world just backflipped and landed flat on its face. Twilight... he what?!

“Hylia, I changed my mind. Don't reunite us past this. He'd lead me to my death.”

Twilight eventually recovers from his bellows of laughter. But the grin that remains has an edge of fangs to it, something impish that reminds him of Time's cryptic comments and Wind's mischief. “I would not. But in the event that we do die an inglorious death, the others will assume it was your fault anyway.”

Wild sputters. “W-what? No, I'd describe in excruciating details how you, big lump of a wolf, just ran straight at monsters with no plan!”

“Who would they believe between us? The wild, mannerless pyromaniac that's constantly pulling death defying stunts? Or the dutiful, dull farmhand that's always trying to reign him in? Just imagine the scene.”

Wild does. The image comes to him unbidden, of some sort of white featureless plain full of fog and the spirits of his brothers-in-arms, where they both just materialize there, singed by the fatal explosion of some guardian's laser.

He wouldn't even get a chance to speak.

They'd all just send him various flat looks and pat Twilight on the back, calling it a good run. It was bound to happen eventually. And Twilight, the ass, would soak it all up as if it was earned and not his plan in the first place!

He needs to sit down. “Holy shit, you're worse than Ganon.”

Twilight offers him a bottle of Lon Lon milk. Likely poisoned, he thinks, after that revelation. He sips some of it anyway. It's good milk.

“Wild, you can't even fathom the depths of my mercy.”

See, someone who could make 'mercy' sound ominous had no right to complain about being called evil.

“You're scaring me.”

Twilight's legs swing over the edges of the rooftop. “Good, because it seems you haven't realized how much blackmail I sit on. Months, Cub. Months and months of travels with no one to tell you no. Every embarrassing thing you've ever done, I was a witness to.”

It's probably a bit sad that Wild can't even narrow it down to a handful of incidents.

“But I haven't destroyed you yet, Cub.”

Wild fights the full body shiver that crawls down his spine. “Don't think I won't bring you down with me! I have pictures! Ah! Who will they believe now?”

“Me,” Twilight replies flatly.

He hates that this one simple word deflates his hard-earned comeback. “I hate you so much, Twi.”

“Aw, I love you too, little brother.” The arm that hooks around his neck is none too gentle. “So stop jumping over fucking lava!”

“No, I'm a free spirit! And I won't listen to your evil whispers anymore!”

With practiced ease, Wild ducks under the moblin arm trying to strangle him and slips by the edge of the rooftop. A kick pushes him forward, and he backflips just to strut over Twilight's lumbersome build, and lands in the pile of hay. Twilight has barely the time to shoot a warning 'Oy! Get back here!' that Wild sprints away into the darkness. The tearing, blockish sound of Twilight's teleportation rings behind him, and he doubles his speed. Dumb wolves can't climb over the fences or the cliffsides that surround the ranch.

He's halfway around the track when he realizes that his chest no longer pangs with the echoes of guilt. And the first thought that comes to mind is 'that conniving goat-lover!'

 ***

 Three days later, after a trek through Sky's forests, Four is the one that speaks the thing that's on all their mind.

“So... anyone else is wondering why Wild is so unusually well-behaved?” he says once Wild is out of earshot, having left with Sky to wash down dishes in a nearby stream.

Wind nods heavily as others voice their assent. Hyrule, in particular, looks a little put off since being told 'no' to exploring the region yesterday. The fact that it had been said through gritted teeth had confused him a little, but he hadn't managed to find out the reason. Wild had just asked the others to witness how he was being a 'respectable hero that follows rules, remember that'.

Legend and Warriors, though, don't seem too concerned. Counting their good fortune maybe. They do, however, make a bet about it. “Better that than moping around,” Legend snarks.

“Don't be mean,” Hyrule says, chastising. “Though I guess I'm glad he's feeling better.”

Time, wordlessly, glances at Twilight, who may or may not be staying in the background, leaning against a tree with the face of a wolf left alone to watch over three defenseless and tasty lambs. The expression does not waver at his mentor's silent question. Far from it.

“Spite, reverse psychology and some long term planning,” Twilight drawls.

That sends a shiver down their spine.

[angelharness]

oooh my fave ladies. im transmasc so this made me happy aha. going with a pre-entity narrative.

WARNINGS: none

AMANDA YOUNG / THE PIG

• Thinks “I don’t care, I don’t see you any different,” is a supportive and reassuring statement. She’s not unaccepting by any means, but her approach of indifference is understandably a little off-putting. 

• In most contexts, Amanda reacts to being corrected with an only barely-passive ferocity, but with you, who she doesn’t feel she needs to constantly defend herself around, she’s more open to addressing her mistakes.

• Likely the type to apologize excessively after using the wrong name, and though you have to assure her it isn’t a big deal, just to correct herself afterward, she gets through this personal hurdle easily enough. She starts using nicknames indicative of your real name to help remind herself, which also functions as a way for her to comfortably express affection. 

• Amanda will do some research and a fair amount of reading on her own; she understands that constantly having to correct and inform others about your identity is horribly tiring, and while she knows she can always go to you with any questions, she genuinely wants to be well informed and to be able to be supportive girlfriend. 

• If you operate as an apprentice of John’s teachings, she would be open to privately inform John on the matter so he can address you properly going forward. Though a core principle of his faith, judgement will not be directed your way. If you’d rather notify him yourself, or not at all, she respects your choice and will know not to intrude. 

• Though known (at least by those close) as the queen of awful, post-breakdown haircuts, when calm and of mind, she has a steady, articulate hand and would cut your hair if you ever wanted, already possessing the instruments for such an occasion. Don’t expect anything stylish, though; her experience comes exclusively from regular trims to keep her hair out of the way while working, not for stylish purposes.

• You bring it up in an evidently joking manner, but Amanda seriously considers kidnapping a doctor to perform any surgeries you’d want. You appreciate the gesture, or the consideration behind it, but you’re likely to turn the idea down. While you may construct brutal instruments of torture and experiment on very unwilling subjects, you still have some standards.

• Amanda will make sure to tell you how handsome you are at any given chance (though never in the presence of company, attributed to her embarrassment over expressing endearment of any sort). Now matter how often she says it, it never loses its sentiment or genuinity. It’s always spoken with a tender authenticity. Despite this, there’s still an aching in her chest at times, wondering so often if you’re aware of just how much she cares for you and how dearly she wishes she could express that. 

SUSIE / THE LEGION

• More than understanding. While she originates from a time, not even terribly long ago, where matters like that weren’t very publicly addressed, she’s quickly accepting and very open to learning.

• Zero tolerance for assholes. She knows not to speak over you on matters that she has no part in, but will not stand for dickheads who knowingly and repeatedly misgender or deadname you. She’s quick to alert strangers, too, even if they meant well.  

• Pretty fast to adjust to using your correct name. Uses lovey nicknames often, somewhat like Amanda, which also helps to remind her. 

• Susie’s incredibly thrilled to call you her boyfriend. The change of title comes easy. Some nicknames she likes as well include cookie, babes, and hotshot—anything exceedingly tacky and sounds like it comes from a fifties high school romcom.

• None of the rest of the Legion give you any trouble, and are surprisingly but welcomingly supportive. Most deriving from unstable home lives and having faced some degree of ostracization themselves, they’re fairly understanding, even the hard-assed Frank. Bigots are usually the subject of their teenage exploits, and if they catch anyone giving you a hard time they make a point to jot them down as a future target. 

• Susie would love to help you dye your hair if you ever wanted to (and she’d pushed you to consider it before), though despite routinely dying her own, she’s not very good at it, usually depending on Julie’s directions. Expect your bathroom counter and sink to be stained for some weeks afterward.

• Transitioning in school is never fun, and it’s an extensive process to formally change your name and gender on official records. Your deadname, sadly, will be a constant during the school day, but Susie makes a point to use your correct name, no matter if she’s with you or not. If you’re alright with it, she’ll correct other students. 

• With a surprising effort of strength, she peels off the yellowed tape she had used to write your name on her personalized mixtape for you, redressing it with the proper name. Returning it to you, you see the case has been updated with a dressing of glitter stickers and a heart in pink pen. 

• Will gladly go clothes shop(lifting) with you, but also is just as ok if you’re fine with your current wardrobe or ever ask to borrow from hers. Either way, keep a constant eye on your hoodies—any she finds lying around are considered up-for-grabs. 

• Susie is cautiously worried about having to now compete for your attention when your female classmates gradually start expressing interest in you. It’s a little illogical, considering you two were already officially dating; still, some reassurance is always appreciated, whether or not she expresses it.

• While she will inevitably slip up from time to time, you always feel comfortable bringing that up with her. You’re never met with sudden defensiveness or hostile confusion, but rather an open and considerate mind, even if she doesn’t understand entirely. She learns quickly and is thankful for your input, even more so that you feel like you’re able to talk to her about such matters. Susie would never want you to stay silent on issues like that. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 21 - ao3 -

When he woke, Lan Qiren expected to find everyone talking about what had happened.

He might have even preferred that, despite the cost it would undoubtedly do to his personal reputation; instead, he found that the entire incident had been largely covered up, with even Lan Yueheng uncertain as to what had caused Lan Qiren’s injury other than that it involved some sort of dispute with his brother. That a mangled version of the story had not spread was as sure a sign as anything that He Kexin, whatever her faults or reckless willingness to act on assumptions with little base in reality, had in fact explained what had really happened, and that his brother had decided that he wouldn’t permit her reputation to be tainted by her actions.

Anyone might have expected the honorable Qingheng-jun to have apologized to Lan Qiren at that point for his own reckless assumptions, but his brother had not. On the contrary, he had left orders for Lan Qiren to be punished for breaching the rules of hospitality in striking an honored guest, and for violating several other rules not publicly specified. 

Lan Qiren could imagine which ones his brother had in mind.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lan Qiren said to his teachers, blankly staring down at the punishment order, written in his brother’s hand. He hadn’t even been given the courtesy of being told about it to his face, as anyone might have expected, nor allowed the opportunity to defend or justify himself; he had been summarily sentenced in a note. “I really didn’t.”

His music teacher and his swordsmanship teacher both looked uncomfortable and awkward, each one clearly aware of the breach of protocol taking place – and, given their position as sect elders and honored teachers, very likely the actual facts of what had occurred. They knew that the only thing he was being punished over was for having the misfortune of being selected as the tool for He Kexin’s scheme, and his brother’s order – vastly excessive for a breach of the sort listed as the reason, given the usual standard of punishments – was due only to his own embarrassment and chagrin, and maybe his jealousy that Lan Qiren had unwillingly gotten even a little of the attention he so greatly desired and could not have. And yet, despite that…

“He is your sect leader,” one of them, the latter, said, and if his voice was a little regretful, it was also cold and passionless. “He has issued punishment. Are you defying his order?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were like fists on his knees. “Where is my brother?” he asked. He didn’t think an appeal would be a good idea, even if he were technically entitled to it – it’d be futile, unless his brother abruptly realized how foolish he was being – but he would be fine with it if only the answer wasn’t…

“With Rogue Cultivator He. She has agreed to give him another chance.”

Lan Qiren bit his lip and looked down. He did not like He Kexin, and not only because she had so grossly transgressed against him in an obvious attempt to convince his brother not to like her any longer – an attempt that, given the extent of his brother’s love-madness, probably wouldn’t have worked even if Lan Qiren hadn’t been utterly repulsed by the idea of bedding his brother’s prospective bride – and the idea of her giving his brother another chance at this point, even after having done so much to try to make him go away…

Perhaps she liked men that fought over her, he thought bitterly. Or perhaps it was only that she appreciated how much of his love she had for him to treat his younger brother as nothing on her behalf - though if that was what she was thinking, she was sorely mistaken. 

“Something will need to be done about my brother’s behavior,” he said, looking up at them desperately. “You must know that this is not sustainable, honored teachers.”

“That is not your concern,” his swordsmanship teacher said, while his music teacher merely looked sad and helpless, as if what was happening was a force of nature that could not be quelled or diverted, and not merely a single man’s inappropriate behavior. “Will you accept the punishment? Or do you intend to defy the sect leader’s order?”

Lan Qiren shook his head mutely, and went to the discipline hall.

Afterwards, Lan Yueheng scurried in after him, shoving a healing pill into Lan Qiren’s mouth and holding his mouth shut until he swallowed it. “You should go,” he said, glancing around anxiously. “You don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.”

“You assume I don’t have to,” Lan Qiren said, still shaking from the pain. He’d never gotten that many strikes all at once, not in his life; he could barely stand unaided, and leaned on Lan Yueheng gratefully. “I’m supposed to kneel and meditate on my actions for three days –”

“You can do that somewhere else!”

Lan Qiren shook his head.

But for once Lan Yueheng was right and he was wrong. On the first two days of his punishment, he saw his brother pass by the discipline hall in an excellent mood, his ‘second chance’ with He Kexin going better than he had hoped – according to the gossip Lan Qiren overheard, apparently she did like it when handsome men fought for her and believed in her, and moreover apparently one of her friends had intervened on his behalf – but on the third day, just as he was about to complete his penance for crimes he had not committed, his brother returned suddenly in a fury over some setback. In a bout of bad luck and bad timing, he saw Lan Qiren just as he was making his way out of the hall, and in a fit of temper he had extended his order from one set of strikes to two, even though such a retrospective revision of punishment was contrary to both the letter and spirit of the rules.

He was the sect leader, though. According to the rules Lan Yi had set down so many years ago, as sect leader, he was entitled to vary the rules if he felt the need to do so.

This time, when the punishment was done, Lan Qiren hauled himself out of there, using the wall and sheer willpower to force his shaking legs to carry him, and stiffly announced to the teacher supervising punishments that he planned to meditate in penance in the Cold Spring instead of the discipline hall.

It was technically against the stricter interpretations of discipline, since he’d been punished to kneel, not meditate, but the Cold Spring was known to have recuperative and pain-easing properties as well as acting as an aid to cultivation; his teachers, which had overseen his punishment for the second time with tightly pressed lips signifying disapproval that meant nothing if they were unwilling to take any action to stop it, did not dispute him, and with a nod his freedom was assured.

Lan Qiren had a brief moment of disquiet when he got there and realized that he would have to strip off his clothing in order to bathe – he’d only had enough time to wash himself since the incident with He Kexin, and a quick scrub in the cold air did not leave time to worry about who might try to find him while he lacked a protective layer of clothing – but with a deep breath he reminded himself that he, unlike his brother, would not allow his life to be governed by He Kexin’s whims. Anyway, it would be unhealthy to wade in with all his clothing on; the wet cloth would serve only to make him feel colder and get less benefit out of the water’s healing properties. Even if his golden core was strong enough to resist most of the negative effects of catching cold, there was no need to tempt fate.

He put his clothing somewhere he could easily see it, tucking his access token into the clothing in such a way that summoning the token would drag along the robe as well, and then unsteadily entered the water, wincing at the bracing chill as he sank down until he was neck-deep in the water, settling himself in the proper position to meditate. Or, well, to sit blankly and wait for there to be a little less pain: even putting aside the severity, it was also the first time he’d ever been subject to back-to-back punishments in such a reckless fashion. Lack of treatment after a punishment was fairly standard if the sentence also included kneeling – technically, Lan Yueheng shouldn’t have given him a pill to encourage healing, and Lan Qiren shouldn’t have accepted it, although doing so was not a major breach. Moreover, given that the teachers had ignored it rather than adding on any additional punishment, it might even be seen as having been subtly countenanced.

Lan Qiren rather wished he had one now.

Or Lan Yueheng, for that matter. Or even Cangse Sanren, far away in Yunmeng, or Lao Nie, or someone, anyone, who would be friendly and take his side, even –

“Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren blinked, surprised to note that the angle of the light had changed considerably; he must have fallen asleep or otherwise drifted off. Or perhaps he was still asleep, because why else would he be hearing Wen Ruohan’s slow drawling tone saying his name in the middle of the Cloud Recesses?

“Ah, little Lan,” the man himself said, gliding out of the mist that surrounded the Cold Spring like a wraith. “There you are.”

Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. “You’re – here.”

It didn’t feel real. How could Wen Ruohan be here?

“I am,” Wen Ruohan said, his lips curved in his usual arrogant expression, the one that said I don’t care what you think of me. “Or am I expected to await your invitation in the future?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, because he felt even less in control of anything to do with his sect than he had been when he’d been its second young master, even though he was now the presumptive heir. His vision of Wen Ruohan blurred and briefly doubled; he blinked to clear it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Even if it was true.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes briefly widened, and then he smirked, looking delighted by the admission. “So you missed me after all,” he said, his voice low and intimate; one might almost call it a purr. “Ah, my stubborn little brother…”

Lan Qiren briefly closed his eyes. Had his brother ever referred to him directly like that? He couldn’t remember if he had.

He wished that it had been some single moment in time, some rash act, that had driven his blood brother, born of the same father and mother, so far away from him. He even wished that it was something that he had done so that it could be something he might fix, might repair with apologies and penance, but he knew that it wasn’t.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that Wen Ruohan had come closer, prowling along the edge of the Cold Spring with his red eyes fixed on Lan Qiren. His pace, as always, was slow and steady – it felt inexorable, unstoppable, and Lan Qiren did nothing to stop him, watching blankly as he came forward, crouching down right beside the place where Lan Qiren was sitting beneath the water.

“Little Lan,” Wen Ruohan purred. “My little Lan…”

He reached out, his long-nailed fingers tracing down along Lan Qiren’s cheek, as light as snowflakes, and down to his chin, catching it in a strong grip and turning his face to look up at Wen Ruohan.  His thumb brushed against Lan Qiren’s lips.

Lan Qiren swallowed. It had been, he thought, too long since he had felt the touch of someone who wished him well, or indeed anyone at all; he had missed it more than he had realized.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and his smirk widened.

“I heard a rumor that you had been caught in attempted adultery,” he remarked. “I didn’t believe it, of course, and no one else did, either – but I had to come see for myself.”

“I didn’t,” Lan Qiren croaked. His voice felt strangled and inexplicably hoarse, and he found himself absently calculating distances in the back of his mind: Wen Ruohan must have left the Nightless City for the Cloud Recesses the very moment he received the report from his spies on what had happened in order to be here now. “I really – didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding cool and amused. “It didn’t really seem like something that my little Lan would do. My little Lan, who missed me so…”

Lan Qiren tried to turn his head away, not wanting to see the smug satisfaction in Wen Ruohan’s voice and face and manner – Wen Ruohan hadn’t won, he thought stubbornly to himself. Lan Qiren hadn’t given up on his conviction that such torture was wrong or that Wen Ruohan was wrong in engaging in it. It was only that Lan Qiren was tired and in pain, and willing to accept comfort from just about anyone.

Wen Ruohan wouldn’t let him turn away, though, and overpowered his weak movement easily.

“Don’t fret,” he said coaxingly. “I missed you, too.”

That sounded nice.

“I must admit, I tried not to. I thought to myself that if you were so foolish as to turn away from me, the consequences should be on your own head, nothing to do with me. But despite my best efforts, you were never far from my thoughts…”

Wen Ruohan’s hand released Lan Qiren’s  chin and drifted down to his throat, lightly pressing his nails against his skin as if examining how the color changed when he did. He moved closer, too close for Lan Qiren to see him clearly given the mist and the angle; his second hand fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulder, while his first continued to drift down, skating along his collarbone, drifting over to his side –

His touch slid across one of the stray bruises left over from his punishment.

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was a bad idea, of course. The involuntary reflex moved his body too quickly, straining all his other cuts and bruises, and the spike of pain from that made him gasp and instinctively curl up. His vision briefly whited out, and he struggled to control his breathing, keeping it slow and shallow to let the pain pass over him.

After a moment that felt overly long, his vision cleared. When it did, he became aware that Wen Ruohan’s fingers were pressed to his brow in the place between his eyes, transferring warm qi to him in such a torrent that it almost hurt; Lan Qiren lifted up a hand to stop him.

Wen Ruohan was faster than him, though, and he pulled away his hand and caught Lan Qiren’s, pulling it up to examine the bruising that was already appearing on the back of his arm – stray marks, in the main part, since the majority were on his back, between his neck and thighs. “What happened?” he asked, voice sharp. “How did you get these wounds?”

Lan Qiren looked at him in bewilderment: was this not the same man he had seen twist human beings into shapes their bodies could not bear, burn them with fire and slice them into bits? Why would he care so much over a few bruises and cuts, the marks left behind by unyielding wood when it struck flesh, instruments of discipline used a thousand times over in every single sect? 

“You know already,” he said, unable to keep the slight tone of plaintive accusation out of his voice. “You said you believed me…”

Wen Ruohan stared at him, expression strangely blank, and then in a single gesture he pulled Lan Qiren up to a standing position, waist-deep in the water and choking on the pain of it, back bent forward like a bow, the worst of the marks now visible to Wen Ruohan’s burning gaze.

“What is this?” he demanded.

It wasn’t really a question that needed answering, and he wasn’t really asking, not anymore, but Lan Qiren responded regardless: “Punishment.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand was tight on his wrist.

“For what?” he snarled, and he sounded furious. Lan Qiren didn’t know if he’d ever heard Wen Ruohan sound this angry - he didn’t know if anyone alive had heard him be this angry, and if they had whether they’d survived the experience. “It is impossible that you actually bedded your brother’s lover. So what possible reason could they have for punishing you?”

“He’s my sect leader,” Lan Qiren said groggily. His head was starting to hurt; he had exited the cold water too quickly. “Does he need a reason?”

The hand on his wrist tightened still further. Lan Qiren would probably have bruises there in the morning as well, equally undeserved - but he minded these far less. 

At least Wen Ruohan was angry on his behalf.

“Qingheng-jun is daring indeed,” Wen Ruohan said, his voice as smooth as silk and as dark as a moonless night. “To think he can act with impunity to anyone he wishes, even going so far as to harm one with whom I share an oath –”

“…do you?”

Wen Ruohan stopped. “Share an oath with you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. His head lolled a little, and he found that somewhere along the line he had been drawn into Wen Ruohan’s arms, making it easy to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. Wen Ruohan was overly warm, as always; his sect always preferred cultivation techniques involving yang energy and fire – it wasn’t a surprise, not really, but it was unexpected how pleasant it was. “Need a reason.” He shook his head a little. “You hurt people, too.”

“You are not just any person,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re my little brother.”

“I’m his little brother, too.”

He felt Wen Ruohan’s hand, blazingly hot against his water-chilled body, come to rest on his hair.

“You were born with poor luck in brothers, little Lan,” he said, his breath warm against Lan Qiren’s ear. It was as if all the heat in the world was contained in his body, and Lan Qiren capable only of leeching off of it. “Not just him, but me as well; we each fail you in turn. I will not apologize for having bound you to me, for I do not regret it – but I will endeavor to make it up to you.”

Surrounded by all that warmth, Lan Qiren drifted off to sleep.

[kitreadsbirdmen]

Birdmen Finale Thoughts

A Reflection on the End

Birdmen checked a lot of boxes for me. The most superficial being wings and flying, concepts that I would imagine from the window of a speeding car or subway train. I can’t say I was attracted to the freedom of the idea, that frankly scared me silly. But it was fascinating enough, and it preoccupied this small part of my imagination from time to time with the pull of the absolutely inexplicable. What if… What if something happened? What if I were different or strange? How would everyone react? What would I do? How would I change or what would I do to fight that change?

These thought experiments often led me to self-indulgent stories with fantasitcal premises that would only halt the speculation and sweep their characters towards their own plots and narratives. They would only glance over to the vastly more interesting human fallout of the [insert truly miraculous phenomenon] for the sake of episodic drama or a comedic take. These would deep down be very disappointing to me because they failed to give weight to the mind-spinning concept of the supernatural. By brushing past it, the story would dismiss my biggest questions, the ones I felt a morbid curiosity to see explained vicariously. That’s probably why I was so hooked to Birdmen at first. 

Birdmen was and is... rather mundane if you think about it. Grounded, set in a recognizable reality, gave nuance to very human quirks and details of life and society. Kinda dull-ish, slightly charming, and depressing, with all the same desire for something more that we feel when we watch the clock tick away. And even the murmurs of the supernatural had this incredulous air. Something amusing and perhaps hard to dismiss nevertheless. And as our cast is thrust into this new spin on reality, it’s given weight and time. Growing pains full of stumbling youth shenanigans and strife. The Introductory Arc is some masterful execution of humanity as the line of a new species skirts more and more into a diverging reality. It’s here that a very different kind of strength is capitalized on. The limitless potential found within limitation itself.

The core concept and primary conflict of birdmen comes from the subtle utilization of a grounded scientific and philosophical school of thought. This limits the entire narrative to concepts inspired not by the dramatic needs or visual aesthetic, but by the imagination of existing science itself. While a lot of things can boast this particular source, I think Birdmen is very conservative with where it could go. The most outlandish things are noted but not abused. Nothing is absurd no matter the demand. It’s the reason why I found the lore behind the growing science and discovery of the Seraph abilities to be immersive. It’s why I could create a million 1st ability ideas, headcanons, and theories (some of which would actually get confirmed) in one sitting. The source material existed within limits and therefore opened the door to boundless potential. 

To put it in a word, it’s realistic.

Realistic characters, events, ‘villains’, powers, relationships, conflicts… the list goes on. When we pick up a story we suspend our disbelief to welcome the basic empathy and logic to engage us through the world. But I felt a strange relationship with that process on so many levels for Birdmen. It’s why talking about it in-depth is such a hard to explain feeling. When fictional characters have all the nuance and depth as a real person. When wide-scale event scenarios start reflecting the common trends of the current mediascape. When manga-panels start echoing peer-reviewed articles… It becomes hard to see the need to suspend disbelief. At least not in the same way. It makes things seem so much more possible. Everything feels so much more personal.

The current pandemic has helped in this process of course. My life has been turned upside down and I often find myself asking ‘dude is this (still) happening???’. It makes a lot of stories and speculative fiction narratives seem a lot closer. But then the final arc of Birdmen introduces its own pandemic SEVERAL months before covid-19 is first spotted and we see a roll-out of cultural fallout that is eerily familiar. WHO press conferences following the resignation of Eden’s director. Forgetting your mask as you leave to greet your son’s arrival home. Teachers taking a sick day for themselves or perhaps out of caution (if only that worked state side lol). Misinformation and tension across social media. Unrest and riots in the street. (that image of Robin’s flock watching the riot from a distance got me big time. Mostly because I was thinking about the Capitol riots at the time). I think I just needed a chapter devoted to a successful and seamless vaccine distribution to set my resonating heart at ease.

...I’m not kidding there actually. We can’t just assume it went off without a hitch Tanabe. Can I get some wish-fulfillment here??

That actually brings me to a big takeaway as I read the final chapters. In my initial reflection, (and entire year ago) I talk about how I was certain Birdmen was prematurely cut short. And while there is probably a world Takayama could witness in his multiverse seeing eyes, where Birdmen runs for several more volumes and the playout of years of arcs goes much longer, I ultimately want to rescind that thought. 

I don’t think the ending was rushed. I don’t think Tanabe was racing against a clock to wrap things up. I don’t think she was dropping million plot threads into the void out of necessity. It is very clear at every point toward the end that Tanabe knew exactly where she was going and was taking a straight shot to that destination at every point. 

Yes, there are some characters that did not get a long enough time in the spotlight. Yes, there is a boundless potential to explore with many characters and concepts. Yes, there is an element of fallout that was left unaddressed. But this doesn’t make it unfinished or unsatisfying. The mundane, realistic nature of the narrative, allows this lack of tangible book-ends. It has uncertainty. The resolutions are not perfect. Not every person in your life is going to shine in the same way (no matter how much you like them). Their purpose in the narrative may seem small but has ripples of effects on the characters and chemistry of the collective. This is not wasted. I knew this wasn’t rushed because the primary themes of these characters came through and they were given all the space and time and panels they needed to tell that story. I noted this most when Robin was having that discussion with Agent Leo about her address to the media at the White House. The back and forth and revelations of Robin’s entire arc were expressed in this one conversation and it lasted several pages. This is the final volume of the story and this nuance is getting the full dry clean treatment. How can I claim that this was rushed? If I had to claim any ill intent I might say we would have gotten a few more chapters of proper fallout, but that would only be for the sake of neatness. But as I mentioned there is something grounded about taking that away and leaving that to the imagination. 

And thus, I’m left feeling incredibly satisfied. So impossibly satisfied. Birdmen has become something so integral to my life and I feel changed having known and loved it. To see it take a bow as gracefully and profoundly as it did fills me with a personal satisfaction I cannot put into words. This is and will forever be, one of the finest stories I will ever read. 

There is a part of me refreshed. Inspired by the daring embrace of reality. Charmed by the beautiful characters. Intrigued by the possibilities still to be discussed. I am almost left a little overwhelmed with how much I want to do as a response, both for the sake and honor of Birdmen and for my own personal motivations. It’s a kind of weightlessness, burdened by crippling fear. 

It’s a lot like flying really.