#ABILITIES that we NEED it's a...dare I say...necessary evil'

[musical-chick-13]

Every day, the urge to write that Band AU gets stronger and stronger.

[inseasofgreen]

how does sciosa’s strength (mental capabilities) contrast against zemorri’s warrior elements? how do they balance each other out as a result? how does it impact their relationship dynamic?

Ohh this is a good one.

I'm assuming we're talking about her magic? Or just her knowledge over all? I'll answer for both actually.

Sciosa is very book smart. She knows a lot about battle and politics from reading. She loves history, though not just her counties and families history, but of Nyrus as whole. She's known since she was quite young that she would be part of a bigger war and what was expected of her during that time. But after 500 years of peace, there's been no war, at least not in the Nite Region. Vultis being the exception to that. So talking to someone who experienced war first hand isn't an option to her.

Zemorri has had first hand experience. He's been in many skirmishes over the last 5 years of his life. He knows how it feels to kill people, to see the atrocities unfold before him. He also was enrolled into the Dragon Hall as a young age. The Dragon Hall is many things, but above all is it a war school.

So taking those two different experiences they both know the art of war, but it's how they would go about it that would be different. Zemorri often blurs the line when it comes to war, specially when it comes to innocents. Zemorri's biggest weapon is Indiss. And as the dragon hall teaches: Dragons should be the first choice to a rider, their blades or other weapon's second. Dragon rider's are there to cause mass destruction. They're there to win. So that being said, Zemorri often sees the deaths of those who where in the wrong place at the wrong time as nothing more than a causality.

Sciosa has 1- never killed someone and 2- has that humanity still intact. She actively tries to spare as many life's as possible. Which makes a lot of sense for her calling, she is there to save mortals from their doom, not condemn them.

On how they balance each other out, they both would have some solid input to strategy. Zemorri on experience, and Sciosa on a hell of a lot of knowledge. Together they would be a menacing foe to have, even without the dragons and magic.

Though about the dragons and magic. Sciosa has a more diverse way of combat, where Zemorri can rain dragonfyre down as wide spread attack or he's limited to his blades. Sciosa has the advantage here, not only can she also attack a large area in one swoop. (I've believed I've mentioned before her ability to level cities, large cities at that. When I say that 5'3 small women is OPed I truly mean it) but she can also so smaller attacks. She also wields a spear, which when she throws and she can basically transport herself with it. So not only is it the force of her throwing it, she can be right there when it lands and be back in action.

But once again I come back to the fact the biggest difference is the humanity aspect. Sciosa doesn't enjoy killing, Zemorri views it as a necessary evil. Though like we saw in chapter 1 - it does take a toll him on. Sciosa, having that humanity, can see the toll it takes on Zemorri. Even in bk 1, she can see he's going through hell and becomes a support to him that he desperately needs. She also unknowingly talks him into sparing prisoners who he has no reason to keep alive. Zemorri forces her to see the world for what it is. She balances out his brutality and he balances out her sometimes overly good-nature.

With all that - They can very easily butt heads and fail to see eye to eye, and they do. But they also have an admiration for each other and an appreciation for what the other can do. There's for sure a level of respect.

Dare I say game recognizes game?

Thank you for the ask nonny!! (though come off anon so i can kith you 10 outa 10 question)

[northwest-cryptid]

Yes I agree, and I understand your frustration but have we considered polite education over vague dismissal? Genuine question.

"Thick water is gross and weird" sure to someone who doesn't suffer from dysphagia it might seem like a gross and weird way to drink water since you're not used to the texture. However people who do suffer from dysphagia, a disorder that makes swallowing thin liquids difficult; it can help them consume water which is necessary for everyday hydration and health.

"Why would you buy pre-cut vegetables when you can just cut your own?" Well, not everyone can simply cut their own; and if you can you should probably stick to buying your vegetables whole to leave pre-cut stuff for individuals who have problems with motor function, or who may be unable to safely hold and use a knife.

"I don't need a device to help me put my socks on, I'm not lazy!" It's not always a matter of being lazy, there are plenty of individuals who suffer from reduced motor function whether due to pain or muscle degradation. If you don't need the device then simply save your money and don't buy it, it's helpful for those who do need the aid in motor function or perhaps even simply the reach.

"Why drink liquid meals?" There are individuals in the world who unfortunately have difficulty chewing, or who simply cannot chew at all. This could be due to lack of teeth, jaw complications, or even matters surrounding oral surgery and the like. For those individuals it can be difficult to consume entire meals, or get the necessary nutrients needed to maintain a healthy body from the meals they can consume; so liquid meals are helpful for them.

Now I'd additionally like to draw your attention to the fact I likely missed something, there are probably far more reasons and points to be made here. However I, even as someone who does understand the use case for such products; have not ever been properly educated because we don't educate we dismiss and insult.

When it comes to matters like this, it's simply faster to throw a "it's not FUCKING for you" than it is to politely explain and actually answer the question of "why does this exist" and often it can change someone's perspective from "ew" to "oh" when they not only understand the reasons and needs for these things, but have been made to understand in a polite manner that doesn't point a finger at them and say "BAD PERSON! BAD PERSON! HOW DARE YOU HAVE A KNEE-JERK REACTION TO SOMETHING YOU DON'T REALIZE THE NEED FOR! THAT'S ABLEIST EVEN IN YOUR IGNORANCE!"

Too many people treat ignorant people as if they're evil because they didn't know to educate themselves on a problem they didn't even know existed. Someone can't, for example; be ableist if they don't understand there is a disability. They can't believe the "typical abilities" are superior if they don't even understand what the disability is in the first place. Now if I explain the need for something like thick water, and someone continues to feel like "that's stupid they should just get surgery for it, or learn to swallow better" then yea they're fucking ableist. However if they have a knee-jerk reaction to thick water being weird or kinda gross because they're not used to it...

Congratulations, you've essentially just called Markiplier ableist.

Now I want to point out that NOWHERE in the original post does OP ever use the word ableist, that is 100% extrapolation on my part and I do not want to in any way put words in his mouth. This is just the sort of thing I see thrown around a lot with people jumping from "you don't know about this thing and that's annoying" to "you're ableist without even knowing it" and I don't think that's really a fair way to assess things. If you accuse someone of being in the wrong they're going to get defensive, they're not going to listen; you're going to take someone who was simply uneducated and make them ableist because they will have a sort of distaste for people they associate with the likes of you.

To go back to what I was saying, I don't actually believe that Markiplier is in any way ableist, but during Unus Annus Mark and Ethan did try Thick Water, and had... a lot of things to say about it, nothing really offensive; they understood what it was for so I think that does go a ways to help the understanding of the need. However they did remark on it being weird should I be remembering correctly. That being said, of course it'd be weird; you're not someone who suffers from the disability/disorder, you're not going to need to consume liquid this way and as a result you're not going to be used to it.

I will as an additional note here take the time to say that during the Unus Annus Thick Water video they were never offensive about dysphagia and I do believe that it helped raise awareness for the disability and for thick water/thick it. That all being said the episode has been lost to time and I cannot find exact clips of it to explain my point here.

What I'm saying though is that when people who don't understand something come to face something they genuinely know nothing about, they might react to it in a way that seems offensive if not only for lack of understanding of why it's important or needed.

If we in turn react poorly we are setting them up to become the very thing we believe they are, by keeping them uneducated and by convincing them that we're an asshole who they shouldn't listen to; rather than by educating them and helping them understand the importance of these sorts of products.

I bring this up a LOT because I think it's a good comparison, and stick with me here because I know this might seem like a wild tangent at first. A lot of people really enjoy games like Genshin Impact, a game that literally referenced Native Americans for their design of the hilichurl, Genshin's main enemy type which the player will inevitably mow down thousands of while playing the game. The claim on the wiki is that they're actually modeled after Oni, despite the devs literally showing images and videos of Native American people dancing being referenced for the hilichurl and their animations.

Genshin's developers are outright racist against Native people; and their game promotes the depiction of slaughter against those very people. Which is very obvious to any Native who has seen it, Natives who; in America are facing real life murder on a daily basis. To the point we have a movement for Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women, or MMIW.

Most people I talk to about this subject simply were unaware of these things, they don't know the broader scope of Native issues outside of "landback" if they even really understand that. They don't know about Blood Quantum, they don't know about the problems we face with domestic abuse.

So then when I see someone who is clearly not Native making comments about Final Fantasy 14 having extremely Native clothing options such as:

and less recognized,

I am quick to educate people on why these things can be seen as offensive, or why I'd rather clothing like this not be regarded as "Ala Mhigan" since yes, those patterns are actually real Native patterns.

I can't immediately jump on someone for playing Genshin or FFXIV and call them racist for using these clothing options or not understanding the similarities of hilichurls and Native Americans.

Because these people are not taking these actions or making these comments out of malice. They don't hate Natives, they're not trying to be racist. They simply don't know, they're uneducated.

So I take the time to educate them, and wouldn't you know it the ones who are good people, learn.

We need to take this approach to things like education about disabilities and disorders or we're not going to actually make any progress towards solving the problem.

Now obviously what someone does with the knowledge we provide them is up to them. However, if we at least do our part in explaining why something matters, or why we're for/against something; then we've done what we can, the best we can.

If we simply yell at them and say "IT'S NOT FOR YOU" that doesn't tell them who it IS for, it doesn't tell them why it DOES matter, it doesn't explain anything to them. It just tells them "you're an outsider who doesn't understand and I'm not going to waste my time on you!"

and I get it I totally get it if someone reading this is saying "okay but we're just venting!" Okay that's totally fine, I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with that; if that's the case and you do understand what I'm saying feel free to disregard my whole damn post (except the bit about Genshin and FFXIV that shit bugs me a lot, also don't disregard the more important part about MMIW because we gotta raise awareness about this shit)

However I've noticed we have the echo chamber problem of preaching to the choir, we scream about problems that most of us might not even face in our day to day life (like seriously I've never heard anyone other than Markiplier even talk about thick water and shit like this, I don't hear these things but it doesn't mean people don't say them. I'm merely saying that I don't know if every single person reblogging this ACTUALLY hears these things enough to where it's a problem, or if they simply BELIEVE people would say these things; which yea it's believable but I'm not gonna get up in arms about it unless I actually hear it.)

And we only scream about these things to other people who ALREADY agree with us, that's not really doing any good. If I go to my Native friends and go "man let me tell you about MMIW" they're just gonna sit there like "yea man that shit is important, but we already know" and sure getting to go to my friends who understand shit and say "that shit sucks this shit is good; we gotta do something about this." Hearing them parrot that all back to me can feel good, it's reassurance, it's validation; that's great. You know what it's not though? It's not raising any awareness, it's not helping educate people who DON'T already know.

Again, and really with everything I've said here I cannot overstate this enough; I'm not here to point fingers at everyone reblogging this and say "YOU'RE WRONG, I'M RIGHT; GET WITH THE PROGRAM FUCKER" that would just be rude and you wouldn't be very inclined to actually hear me out.

I'm not trying to accuse or blame or say that anyone is in the wrong, it's a general thing I've noticed. We blur the lines between venting to friends and actually stating a problem; and the way we approach those problems doesn't feel very productive to actually stopping the problem. We simply yell and scream and throw swear words around saying "THIS IS FUCKING BAD!!!" It doesn't explain why, it doesn't move us forward.

So I guess what I'm getting here is PLEASE, next time you see someone saying some STUPID shit, or doing some STUPID shit; consider for a moment that they may be literally uneducated. Just like how you may not have known about Genshin or FFXIV or MMIW or Blood Quantum (and if you don't know about Blood Quantum you still don't because did you notice I didn't explain it?) That doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't mean I hate you or that you're racist or whatever. All it means is that we live different lives and face different problems, I'm more aware of the problems facing Native communities because I happen to be Native. Just like how if you're Black you'd have a MUCH better understanding of the issues surrounding Black communities than I would. Which is why I urge people to educate each other, because I don't know everything, and I want to understand more, I want to be educated; I want to better support people outside of my own communities and issues; I want to be aware of things like how to talk about curtain issues without accidentally being offensive. I want to be aware of what problems people face and the solutions that we as a human race can offer them via products and aid. I want to be well rounded because it means I can then by proxy; educate others and further progress towards a better future in which people don't feel this way (on either side, the confusion about products AND the anger of someone saying stupid shit about products that help improve the lives of others) by making sure everyone is on the same level when it comes to things they don't teach you in school.

I bring up the whole Native issue because every time I say this people tell me "well they should have looked it up!" Why? People live very busy lives, if they don't know why they should care they're not going to. Not to mention there's a lot of shit out there that just isn't true; or covers up and obscures the problem; like again how Genshin's wiki states the hilichurls are based on Oni when again, the developer interviews literally SHOW the images and videos of Native people being referenced. People aren't going to just know what online information to trust right off the bat, they're not going to even know to look things up. They're not going to even know there's a problem unless someone who DOES know helps explain it to them and educate them.

You have that knowledge, and by extension; you have the power to bring upon a more educated and better future. So please don't squander that, do not let your anger blind you to the power you possess. It's okay to be frustrated, how do you think I feel when people glorify Genshin or when I see someone selling "Ala Mhigan gowns" that are literally just Native patterns. It's frustrating, it's upsetting; you're more than allowed to be mad about it. However you can get mad and bring upon no change; or you can do your best to educate the masses and MAYBE they'll actually listen.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk :P

If you've made it this far and don't want to send me anon hate, I think you're pretty cool. If you somehow made it all the way here and do want to send me anon hate; well I mean damn okay I'm a flawed person like anyone else but I guess you did just sit through all that so I don't know man, I won't respond but I can't stop you either so I mean... you could educate me about why you're upset and then I could better myself for it or you could tell me I'm a waste of oxygen I'm not the boss of you I can't tell you what to do with your time.

As a final closing note, I do want to also say it's not your JOB to educate anyone, but I do think it'd do a lot more than being mad. We don't owe anyone anything; but believe me being mad at people isn't going to fix anything either.

“ew thick water gross and weird” ITS NOT FUCKING FOR YOU!!!!! “ew why buy pre-cut vegetables when you can cut your own” ITS NOT FUCKING FOR YOU!!!!!! “I don’t need a device to help me put my socks on I’m not lazy” ITS NOT FUCKING FOR YOU !!!!!!!!! “Why drink liquid meals when you can cook them” ITS!!!!! NOT!!!!!! FOR!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!

[nobodyfamousposts]

What would your ideal tikki be?

I'm of the opinion that the best kwami/human duo setup would be one where they work off each other and both can benefit and grow from their time together. Not just "the kwami is always right" (Tikki) while never actually doing anything helpful or supportive for their chosen/mentee/an actual teenager.

I'd say that it'd work better for the kwamis to have different mindsets and morals that fit different periods of time. After all, aside from possibly Wayzz, they've all been in the Miracle Box for years if not decades if not CENTURIES. There would be bound to be a disconnect from that alone. And add on top of that, these kwamis are beings older than the universe whom are all either based on or the basis FOR certain animals, so that needs to matter for more than just their appearance.

For Tikki in particular, this would mean that she is a being of WAR.

She is a Ladybug, which are natural predators, particularly known for eliminating and devouring garden-destroying pests. It's part of the reason they're well regarded and even considered lucky. While not poisonous to humans, they are red for a reason, and can be toxic to smaller animals. They also show some intelligence and ability for tactics, such as playing dead to deter predators.

On top of this, let's bear in mind that Tikki has been noted to have past users of importance who were involved in some pretty major conflicts and war, like Jeanne D'arc and Hippolyta, both of whom were noted as warriors or involved in war.

Given all this, I'd imagine Tikki would best work more similar to the Evil Tikki concept. Not where she's "evil", per say, but where she's definitely more pragmatic and used to war and fighting as an acceptable answer to resolving conflicts. A Tikki who accepts lethal means as necessary at points and shows a tactical mind that is both equal to and opposite of Marinette's own. She can be mature, calm, and reasonable while still horribly out of touch. And she can give advice and support while having that advice be unhelpful not because of her own refusal TO help, but simply due to nature of the advice she knows how to give vs the current situation and what Marinette actually needs to do. That way, we could have Marinette still needing to figure out how to resolve problems on her own without Tikki directly telling her the answer, but also avoid Tikki being self-righteous over it despite essentially abandoning Marinette to potentially make the wrong decision without telling her what the "right" decision is supposed to be (looking at you, Reflekta).

This would be a Tikki who doesn't get emotional-based decision-making. Do what works, not what "feels good", because it's all about survival and competition. How different would the lesson in Gamer have come across regarding considering other's feelings if Tikki's stance/advice was to support Marinette that she didn't do anything wrong by competing and winning because that's what competitions are for? Winners win and survive while losers lose and get eaten. That might have done more to add to Marinette's guilt over hurting Max's feelings because hearing such blatant and dare I say heartless statements from Tikki would make her question herself more. Ultimately, she would need to be her own self control when it comes to trying for what she wants.

This would go a long way to display the disconnect between kwamis and humans. They don't GET humans. They aren't around them often and when they are, they're only really bonding with their specific chosen. Their ideas of morals or "right and wrong" would be vastly different from what people nowadays would consider. This would open up Tikki and potentially other kwamis to lessons and growth, allowing them to change from their time with their users just as much as the users would change from their time with the kwamis.

This effect can and probably should be achieved without making the kwamis have the personalities and mentalities of children. Because the way canon does it, the kwamis come off as horribly naive and irresponsible for beings who are supposed to older than the universe and major players in bringing about the world as we now know it. Especially as beings that the characters and even we as the audience are supposed to respect, listen to, consider to be the moral authority of any situation, and just in general take seriously. If the kwamis don't feel or understand love (as Tikki takes FOUR SEASONS to reveal), then WHY are we supposed to take their input regarding the love square as valid?

My take on Tikki would be as a warrior. Someone who THINKS she knows best but isn't always right. Someone who does understand and is able to give decent advice on love more on the basis of love being an emotional war of attrition of the heart. Someone who learns that sometimes new, different or at least more subtle tactics are needed to deal with problems. Someone who supports Marinette even if she doesn't necessarily know how. Someone who admits to the influence of the Lucky Charms and gives Marinette items that aren't completely random or silly, but have clear and more dangerous purposes that Marinette by her own personality and beliefs refuses to use them for and instead uses her own cleverness to find alternatives to—something that Tikki could both be put out over but also impressed by. This would also allow for a subtle indicator of their growing bond when Tikki's influence eventually makes Lucky Charms that fit Marinette's specific needs in a non-lethal way instead of her usual method.

This would allow for a greater dynamic between Marinette and Tikki, and one that would change over time. Instead of Tikki just lecturing without offering anything useful other than what NOT to do or why Marinette should feel bad. Or Tikki just serving as a prop for Marinette to talk to about her problems or feelings instead of any of the multitude of people she already has to talk to—or better yet, SHOWING rather than TELLING.

All in all, I'd go for a Tikki who is flawed. One who would over time learn and grow from her time with Marinette just as Marinette would from her.

[witch-hazels-musings]

INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER REFERENCE : DILUC

(all insights are based on textual evidence from Genshin Impact & the character Wiki Page) - Hazel’s character analysis are not official, just analytical*

Song: Welcome to the Black Parade, My Chemical Romance

"Evil cannot go unpunished. Never settle for mediocrity. Never forget that the dawn will one day come."

General:

Values: Trustworthy/honesty, commitment 

Love language giving: Acts of Service

Love language receiving: Verbal Praise

He’s canonically warm*

He gets impatient pretty quickly and can be blunt when necessary - there is no need to tip-toe around a subject when it’s quicker to get to the point 

*Workaholic: gets very focused on the work in front of him -> “Crepus told Diluc to be faithful in his duties,” hence the dedication to everything he puts his mind too. The Winery, becoming a Knight of Favonius, volunteering in the ‘network’ 

*Skills: he is seen to use his pyro abilities with ease (tortured an abyss mage with a flick of his wrist, catches his claymore on fire), is a master swordsman (taught by his father), great at gathering information (a part of the reason he tends to the bar and hosts parties - it’s to get secrets)(a good operative) 

*He was once a very motivated, and generally passionate person. When he became the first and youngest Calvary Captain - boundless courage, conviction, and composure until the death of his father, the betrayal of the knights, and the night he learned Kaeya’s secret*

Extra Analysis 

Character Flaws 

Behaviors:

Introverted*

Closed Body Language - crosses arms, holds onto chin when he thinks, fusses with his gloves a lot* (it’s suspected that the habit formed while he was using or ‘holding’ his fathers delusion which rested on the back of his hand), stands in the back of the group or off to the side -- won’t touch people easily*

Environmental impacts - more people means he’s more likely to be reserved and quiet (see the Archipelago quests), private and one-on-one interactions are more likely to get him to open up, though only about what is necessary to the situation 

Dialogue: (reference Jane Austin works)

his tone is often emotionless, formal, and serious - though in certain dialogue you can hear him laugh and have fun (see "About Diona”)

direct language - is prone to use formal, ‘upper-class’ phrasing as well as poetic dark imagery 

“[Eula] has her own convictions. Her determination to liberate herself from the shackles of her clan is praiseworthy” // “...  If it is within my power to bestow it upon you, I will give it my consideration.” // “... I will always face the darkness. For dawn to come, there must be those who dare to pierce the darkness with their light. “

but can also speak directly & generally with others

“No need for small talk. All that matters is that you were safe last night. //        “ Power is necessary if we are to meet our objectives.”

word choice: he mostly uses formal words (bestow, apologies, idle, avarice), but mixes them with more standard words ---- while we might say, “no matter what gets in my way.” Diluc will embellish that statement, “no matter what dares to stand in my way.”

Other observations / info

Dislikes what the Knights of Favonious fail to accomplish (especially after the incident with his father), not necessarily everyone who is within them - he finds those who do the ‘right thing’ and fight for the greater good to be quality members = Jean & Lisa

Alcohol - he finds the affects of the drink to hinder his ability to be alert and focused, which is a major reason he doesn’t drink it -- instead her prefers Grape Juice and Apple Cider

Doesn’t hold onto ‘items he no longer needs’ and generally doesn’t keep things unless they serve a purpose to him - the only contradiction to this is the vase that Kaeya brought to him on his return to Mondstadt which means he may hold onto certain things if they hold enough ‘sentimental value’

*Winery’s motto:  "Shine True"

*He willingly gave up his pyro vision seeing that “it was ineffectual at enabling him to protect the things that he treasured most”

*very good at Chess

items marked with * are canonical

I may add to this as I think of other things or increase my analysis*

main post (also - heres my overview of why i love him)

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Hey, you once mentioned something about Tom Riddle being a little suicidal. Your new post reminded of that and I wonder why you think that. It’s the complete opposite of what the books want you to think.

Alright, it’s time, let’s do this.

My standard disclaimer whenever we venture into the dark pit that is my thoughts on Tom Riddle: I’m going to say a lot of controversial stuff that fandom generally doesn’t agree with, I will say so much of this shit that I simply do not have time to explain it all, I expect 99% of you to disagree with me and the other 1% to be so horrifyingly offended that I dare to contemplate a world in which Tom isn’t always an overly competent psychopath that they leave me notes telling me to take this trash out of their character tags.

We good? Alright.

So, when I say a little suicidal, I mean that he is suicidal.

Not on the level that he’s going to kill himself tomorrow, or even has plans to kill himself, but in that he makes very strange decisions for someone who desperately wants to live.

And yes, I realize I speak blasphemy given that Tom Riddle’s entire m.o. is supposed to be his crippling fear of death.

Oh man, this one’s going to be so long.

So, my reasoning comes down to a few things:

The location of the horcruxes and the nature of their protections.

The events of Deathly Hallows and Tom’s final actions in the novel

The nature of horcruxes and what it means to not only be able to create one but what it does to you (caveat that I am going to headcanon hard here and speak utter blasphemy)

So, let’s start in order this time, because I think the first two are actually far easier for me to explain.

The Location and Nature of the Horcrux Protections and the Trouble with Backdoors in Security

So, first, the horcruxes are all conveniently located in Great Britain. Not even just in Great Britain, all in places that Albus Dumbledore and later Harry Potter can track down with relative ease, all fairly close to each other.

Now, part of this is undoubtedly attributable to Tom’s overly romantic nature. 

Yes, Tom Riddle is a giant romantic, though not necessarily in the traditional sense everyone thinks of. The film “Patton” and its treatment of Patton comes to mind. Tom Riddle is a man enamored by a sense of greatness, of being remembered in this world rather than fading into oblivion, by the significance of places and times in history not only of the world but of himself. He creates an entire, grand, persona for himself because to live an ordinary life for him is to be worthy of nothing.

So, given that, of course Tom places the horcruxes in sentimental locations that have personal meaning to him.

However, it also makes them perilously easy to find and collect.

By itself, this wouldn’t spark my notice.

The ability to destroy horcruxes are not easy to come by. There’s only one basilisk and it’s by chance/Lucius fucking up that Harry gains access to the necessary basilisk venom. Using Fyendfire is an incredibly dangerous thing to do and just as likely to blow up you and the next three towns over as it is to destroy a horcrux. And if there are other means of destroying a horcrux they’re just as hard to come by or just as dangerous.

It’s not quite throwing it into the fires of Mt. Doom from which it was forged but it’s pretty damn close.

So, really, without JKR’s convenient Deus Ex Machina giving both him and Dumbledore the means to actually destroy these things, Tom Riddle’s horcruxes are pretty damn safe no matter where we put them. As we see from the locket, which Regulus manages to collect but Kreacher cannot destroy even after several decades.

However, what does spark my notice, is that the horcruxes can be collected by someone other than Tom Riddle when it appears as if they were never intended to be. What do I mean by this?

From what we see, there’s no benefit to Tom if the original horcruxes are found by anyone. He doesn’t seek them out to restore his original body, they’re just anchor points that should be hidden at all costs. So, he’ll never need a Death Eater to go collect them for him should he be indisposed (indeed, to do so would require a tremendous amount of trust in people he has very little trust in). 

So, why hide them in such a way that others can access them? There are canon based options which would have prevented anyone else from reaching them. Given the existence of age lines, I imagine Tom Riddle could make some arbitrary barrier keyed only to himself. There are mokeskin pouches, such as the one Harry is given in the seventh book, which we know can only be accessed by whoever they’re keyed to. There’s the Fidelius Charm which, true requires a secret keeper which Tom would be very meh on, but options exist.

Tom Riddle could wipe the locations of his horcruxes off the face of the map. He chooses not to. Which leads me to believe that, at least on some unconscious level, he wants the horcruxes to be found.

Then we have the protections.

Specifically, I’m thinking of the locket here.

Yes, the protections are very formidable, but they’re also goddamn weird. 

Rather than make the horcrux simply inaccessible, kill all those intruding, instead the intruder has to go through a very “Saw” like puzzle in which they drown themselves in despair until they finally get the locket, at which point they likely suicide by zombie.

More, there’s no hint that there’s any other way to retrieve the locket. 

Backdoors in security are a very bad idea. What they do is weaken the security as a whole and, if you can take a short cut is, it means that someone who is clever enough and motivated enough can to. Dumbledore is both clever and motivated enough, and I imagine if there was a way to get the horcrux that involved not doing this ridiculous task he would have done it.

More, we’d be back to the land of Tom making sure only he can access the horcrux by requiring a password, keying it to his magical signature, or something so that no one else could get it.

Which means, that’s right, if Tom wants to get the locket he’s drinking the goddamn despair juice just like the rest of us.

What kind of a person would do any of this?

I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t think Tom Riddle’s crazy. Rather, in this case, I think he’s driven by an unbelievable amount of nihilist rage and is also quite depressed.

Tom goes to collect his horcrux, “Ah, it’s time to remember what a miserable life I’ve led and the sheer awfulness of my own existence. Good, I was starting to feel a little too happy. Let’s see if I get eaten by my undead, vengeful, victims today.” 

The Events of Deathly Hallows and Tom Riddle’s Death

I think Tom Riddle’s final death in the books was suicide.

Tom takes over the Wizarding World, finally, and it’s as miserable as ever.

He’s trapped in this sham, barely functional, probably very painful body. His Death Eaters are completely out of control and for all that he wanted society to burn it’s now burning and no one’s even learned anything from this. Children in Hogwarts are being routinely tortured and have now staged a rebellion in which he’s having to slaughter them (I have reasons to believe that this is not what Tom Riddle wanted, at all, but that’s best saved for another post), and then he learns his horcruxes have all been destroyed without him even noticing.

There’s so little left of him, he has accomplished nothing, and there’s Harry Potter back from the dead yet again, gloating at him that love conquers all and Tom Riddle will never understand.

And Harry’s right, Tom Riddle will never understand, the world is meaningless and flat to him now and he finally understand that there’s no point to it. I think Tom Riddle decides he’s done. He’s just done.

He enters in a duel with Harry Potter knowing the weird nature of their wands. Now, it can be assumed he used the Elder Wand, but we know they get locked in Priori Incatatum , and that makes no damn sense with the Elder Wand (well, wandlore in general is silly, but I’m working with what JKR gave me here). So I choose to take JKR at her somewhat established canon and say that, no matter what Harry thought, Voldemort was using his original wand.

He throws out the killing curse, despite having now witnessed Harry resurrecting twice to this thing, and within two seconds it rebounds and kills him.

Voldemort’s death is a lot like this scene from the recent, terrible, 2020 live action Mulan (10/10 do not recommend).  Now, we’re supposed to think that this scene is the witch saving Mulan’s life and thus showing her hope for the next generation. In actuality, the witch literally flies into an arrow she could have easily deflected from Mulan’s path. It’s a suicide that Mulan is too stupid to notice.

Tom chooses suicide in the most ridiculous, flamboyant, and easily written off manner one can and no one even notices. Instead Harry crows that he has personally defeated Voldemort, with the power of love no less, HUZZAH!

And the castle parties.

The Nature of Horcruxes

I almost don’t want to include this because it’s so... well, I’m really drifting far from canon and fandom now.

However, with horcruxes, there’s always an overriding question of why Tom is able to make so many when we don’t see anyone else with these things around (especially as it’s clear that murder doesn’t simply happen for those that now have horcruxes).

Usually, you have fic authors just sort of shrug and go, “Well, he’s that evil, I guess.” Sometimes you have them go, “No one else is crazy enough to keep going, and that’s why Voldemort’s cuckoo bananas.” 

One very good explanation I’ve seen is that it’s because most people, when they murder, feel remorse immediately. The soul split happens, but they’re haunted by the murder for the rest of their life, and thus the horcrux isn’t made. Voldemort, feeling nothing when he kills anyone, is thus able to make them even for when he’s only indirectly associated with the death in question.

However, to me that never really jived philosophically.

Mostly, I simply cannot imagine that tearing apart your very soul is an act of indifference. Here’s how I see it: to do something like that to yourself, you must care, you must care beyond all imagine and human endurance. Your soul literally cannot abide it and saws itself in half, purging what you cannot stand about yourself the most. 

The remorse part is, yes, remorse for the act and the victim but more to the point it is the ability to forgive and reaccept the worst part of yourself. That part of yourself that you purged and destroyed, which is nearly impossible to do and might very well destroy the fabric of who you are). 

In other words, while creating a horcrux is an abominable act of hatred, it is also one of profound self-hatred.

Tom Riddle loathes himself so much that he is able to do this over and over and over again. 

As Tom Riddle goes on he makes himself into less and less and less of himself until he probably doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He just knows, whatever is left of him, he loathes that too. 

And then, of course, he gives up, runs into the nearest flying arrow, and dies.

TL;DR: Tom Riddle’s is a miserable existence that ended in a miserable if unintentionally hilarious manner

[incognito-duo]

Pls anyone correct me if I misunderstood any of this, but to me, it just made me think about how Jinx attacking the council is seen as bad and terrorism (but if the sheep's always being hurt by the wolf, would it be bad for the sheep to fight back? Would it be bad for the sheep to kill the wolf to ensure no one else in the pack dies?) But Cait can totally just pollute Zaun with toxic gas cus PILTOVER CONTROLS THEIR AIR???

When Vi wants to get revenge on Silco, to kill him, mess up his entire shimmer factory, she didn't care who she was hurting. But she still felt sympathy and stopped when a child got hurt, even though she wanted to continue. Jayce stopped her from getting her revenge on Silco - Piltover's Wonder Boy is telling Vi, a Zaunite who's been deeply hurt by Silco and couldn't get her sister from him cus she was taken by enforcers at age 14 - because it was dangerous and would hurt too many people. Because it was too violent - a violence that she's seen and gotten used to, a violence that she endures every day, one that's inflicted on her and the rest of Zaun from Topside.

So we have Zaunites who want revenge, but they're stopped or seen as bad, criminals, dangerous, going too far. But Caitlyn? She can become a decorated officer immedtately after getting her mom's key, she can LITERALLY POLLUTE AND TAKE AWAY ZAUN'S ABILITY TO BREATHE??? (The gasp I did when I heard the Kirammen archive thing say "The undercity deserves to breathe" LORDDDD LOOK ME IN THE EYE-) and it's ok in Piltover's eyes. It's needed, these are necessary evils. It's seen as different as Vi trying to get revenge on Silco, different from Jinx blowing up the council.

Cait asks Vi to take up a enforcer badge because, in her eyes, that's the only valid way to get revenge. To do it her way, to do it as a enforcer. In Caitlyn's eyes, Vi is one of the "good ones." (And Vi, due to being attatched to her past, let's Caitlyn believe that. She plays the part, she works with enforcers, she BECOMES one - because her attachment to her past makes her... a coward, I'll say it I'm sorry 😭 like Vi your girl is walking around saying she's a decorated officer, she's not the kind girl you think she is. She "changed" the moment she decided she can let toxic gas out in Zaun and you let her to do that without any protest. The truth is that Cait was always capable of that imo.)

Cait respects Ekko because he wants to stop Silco, which aligns with what Piltover wants. The moment he started calling her out about being a enforcer, about how they work with Silco, about how they're oppressive and killers, she's instantly in his face denying it. Zaunites are only respected if they align with Topside, if they aren't, then screw you. (And your water and air, cus I was yelling with Ekko when Jayce was like "but it's far away from the fissures." Alsooo, yes Jayce deserves to be chewed out for that, but Heimerdinger should be too...? He was a councilman too, and though he was one of the better ones and WAS correct about the Arcane and didn't deserve to be kicked out like that, he was complacent with what was going on in Zaun. But anyway-)

"She's in your blood" when Caitlyn said that to Vi - OH MY GOSHHH. It soldified that Caitlyn wasn’t on both sides, cus you can never actually be on both sides! She's for Piltover, she's a enforcer, she'll kill and hunt Zaunites like animals, she'll pollute their air and water, and she leaves Vi when Vi tries to stop Caitlyn from trying to shoot at a CHILD. (I WAS TWEAKING WATCHING THAT-) She truly thinks that if Vi were to dare say that she's wrong, it's cus she's from the Undercity, that she's born wrong, that she's just like Jinx and isn't "one of the good ones." (You telling me that Cait wasn't in her head justifying that it's ok to endanger a kid cus they're a Zaunite? That they're on Jinx's side?)

When Zaun gets revenge, it's a crime. When Piltover gets revenge, it's justice. And it makes me so very sad and angry.

(This is why Ekko is the best because he's not like Vi where she works with enforcers, but he isn't like Silco, where they were hurting Zaun by controlling them with Shimmer. Ekko is the only character who truly has done not a single thing wrong and is the only one who consistently cares and wants the better for Zaun. Cus like... you can argue that Jinx is fighting for Zaun as a more personal thing cus she's angry about Silco's death, it's less so about wanting to build up Zaun. Well, maybe it will be, but at this moment no - Silco wanted a independent Zaun too. He's not a good man by any means, but that want is valid and shared and is also villainized by Piltovers. Again, I'm very new to the show still and really wanna hear others if I misunderstood something. Ekko is still the best)

I don't really go here (in the sense that I don't engage directly with the Arcane fandom) but I just wanted to point out how the conversation between Caitlyn and Vi where Vi is offered the badge as a test of her loyalty is a prime example of how the show is constantly asking its audience to think about who is allowed to grieve and take revenge and who is not. You can see that theme reverberate throughout their interactions for the rest of the first act; idk if that's something folks are discussing in here but that's what's on the front of my mind rn

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 28 - ao3 -

The answer, it turned out, was paint.

It wasn’t an answer that Lan Qiren would have anticipated in any way, shape, or form. He had been under the impression, as had Lao Nie, that Wen Ruohan had stopped painting long ago. After some teasing by Lao Nie, the man had even off-handedly confirmed it at a private dinner they’d shared at a discussion conference – there had been more than usual planned in this past year, accounting for the fact that all of the Great Sect sect leaders (except Wen Ruohan) were unusually young, and therefore active. And although no one acknowledged it as a reason, everyone knew that it was also meant to help calm the concerns of the smaller sects regarding the chaos in their Great Sect leaders’ personal lives, between Jiang Fengmian losing his servant to his beloved or possibly the other way around, Lao Nie’s extremely bizarre marriage situation, and Lan Qiren stepping up unexpectedly to the position of sect leader on account of his brother’s retreat from the world.

According to Wen Ruohan, it hadn’t been anything in particular that had made him stop painting, only a lack of time and then of interest; there had been a severe crisis some time ago, long before either of them were born, and he had been obligated to devote himself exclusively to those affairs for an extended period of time. When he had finally resurfaced, years later, he had returned and found an old painting sitting there half-finished, and staring at it, realized that he was no longer the same man who had begun it.

He had never painted again.

Lan Qiren was unsure if this was a real story or not – Wen Ruohan, he had learned, seemed to consider the truth about his past to be little more than a gentleman’s agreement between friends – as it seemed to be an especially pointed reminder aimed at Lan Qiren’s situation in particular. 

Lao Nie had certainly taken it as such, throwing in his own concerns about Lan Qiren’s work schedule, and when even Cangse Sanren had joined the growing mob of all the rest of his friends, Lan Qiren had finally, if reluctantly, agreed to defer to their concern. He’d finally taken a step back and reorganized his duties as sect leader, standing his ground against the elders and insisting on having more time to devote to his own interests, including those outside of his work as a teacher – music, study, quiet contemplation, even maintaining his training with the sword, despite the fact that he would never match his brother as a sword cultivator.

It had, in fact, made him a better sect leader, less prone to working until he burned out, and he was grateful to his friends for their wisdom and steadfastness in the face of his stubborn grief.

At any rate, though, Wen Ruohan was no longer the painter he had been in his youth, and the hints of burning that marked all such paintings that Lan Qiren had seen suggested that the transition had been an unpleasant one for him. It was a surprise, therefore, to receive, as a gift from the Nightless City, a painting in that immediately recognizable hand which was so freshly made that Lan Qiren imagined he could still smell the grinding ink.

The painting depicted a dragon amidst a misty bamboo forest, its massive coils interwoven throughout the bamboo until it appeared almost part of the earth from which they sprung, or alternatively that speared through from above by a rain of spears; in its claw it held a beauteous dragon pearl, shining bright against the dark haze that surrounded the rest of the painting, and its eyes were fixed upon it as if it had forgotten all else.

The pearl, Lan Qiren presumed, was himself, given Wen Ruohan’s fondness for comparing him to one, which Lan Qiren still did not entirely understand – while he knew it was a sign of Wen Ruohan’s appreciation for him, and an indication that he treasured him, he thought that the particular choice in the type of precious stone was likely to be due to the fact Lan Qiren largely preferred white and grey and silver for his clothing. 

(Privately, he had determined that one day, out of sheer spite, he would wear an outfit primarily composed of blue for no other reason than to give the other man a shock; he just hadn’t found a reason yet to justify the expense of having such clothing made when he would only use it the once.)

Similarly, the dragon was the symbol of imperial might, of overweening power and influence and even arrogance; naturally that would be Wen Ruohan himself. But as for the rest of it – the lonely but beautiful bamboo forest, often associated with moral integrity and loyalty, yet juxtaposed in this painting as piercing spears, penetrating the dragon’s hide as if attacking him – the dark mist that seemed to envelop the dragon, held at abeyance only through the light of its pearl –

Lan Qiren did not understand.

There were too many meanings possible, and he did not know how to differentiate between those that were there and those he only wanted to read into it. There was nothing for it, but that he would need to ask the artist himself what was meant.

When, as expected, an invitation came a few days later, requesting that Lan Qiren visit the Nightless City in his capacity as Wen Ruohan’s sworn brother, Lan Qiren accepted.

There were all the necessary pleasantries when he arrived, of course. No longer could he just slip in through the back door, a younger brother come to leech off some resources from an elder; he was the Lan sect leader, and that came with certain obligations even on a casual visit. There were a few formal procedures, and then dinner with Wen Ruohan and his wives, with whom his dynamics had completely reversed – Madame Wen had thawed towards Lan Qiren on account of his new position as sect leader, which guaranteed that he would never be able to move to the Nightless City and thereby obstruct her personal power, while the new concubine, former maid, seemed to think that his involvement in her ascension to the position she now held was a matter of embarrassment, resulting in her wanting to snub him whenever possible.

Wen Ruohan largely ignored their antics, his eyes fixed on Lan Qiren throughout their meal, and afterwards, he had finally dismissed them all and taken Lan Qiren back to the small study he preferred to use for their time together.

“The painting you sent was lovely,” Lan Qiren said, playing a little with the cup of tea that was warm and aromatic in his hands. “You have lost none of your skill.”

“I rebuilt it,” Wen Ruohan corrected, looking amused. “You ought to have seen the first few efforts; I think I wasted enough paper to feed a small family for a year.”

Lan Qiren smiled at the thought. He could scarcely imagine Wen Ruohan struggling the way he described, making an effort and finding his ability wanting; still less could he have once imagined Wen Ruohan having admitted to that fact in front of another.

It was a little like what Lao Nie had said, that between the two of them they were excavating the residual humanity left in Wen Ruohan, slowly and methodically moving aside stone and dirt in order to find the treasures lurking beneath.

“I like it even more, then,” he said, and decided to be a little bit bold. “I like knowing that you thought of me for as long as it took you to make it.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes curved in delight. “You need not be concerned on that score,” he said, his voice still calm and unhurried as always. “You are not so easily expelled from my thoughts, now that you have entered them…ah, little Lan, little Lan, you make me impatient! I had made plans on how to broach the subject with you, and yet now that you are here, I find myself rushing forward, intent to get to the point like some savage Nie.”

A savage Nie of whom he was exceedingly fond, he did not say, and Lan Qiren managed not to roll his eyes at him.

Instead, Lan Qiren put down his cup and folded his hands in his lap. “Don’t hesitate on my behalf,” he said, then added, a little dryly, “I’ve had enough indirect statements to last a lifetime.”

“Welcome to politics,” Wen Ruohan responded, just as dry, but his smile faded and his expression grew more intense; he stood and came closer to Lan Qiren, looking down at him for a long moment before taking a seat beside him. “Qiren, why are you here?”

Lan Qiren blinked, a little confused by the question, but before he could put together an answer, Wen Ruohan continued. “You are sincere and true to yourself; you follow your sect’s rules because you believe in them whole-heartedly and wish to live up to their strictures. Yet do they not say Do not associate with evil?”

“I don’t think you’re evil,” Lan Qiren said. “I think we disagree on what actions constitute evil, on what divides good from evil, and that you are more comfortable walking closely along that line than I. I think that there will be many times in the future where we disagree once again on what is or is not the straight path, and what is the crooked, but – fundamentally, I don’t think you’re evil.”

He considered the question for another moment longer, then added: “And if you were, what is there to do about it? You’re still my sworn brother, bound by oath and blood, and that makes you my responsibility whether I like it or not. Even if you were evil, the only thing that would be left for me to do would be to try my best to lead you out of the dark and back to the light.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him again. His red eyes were narrowed a little, his gaze as intense as it had been when Lan Qiren had been little more than a child, although experience had made it a little less overwhelming.

“You know that I see you as a pearl in the palm of my hand,” Wen Ruohan finally said. His voice was low and intimate, and Lan Qiren shivered to hear it. “A treasure I never expected to find, a gem of such surpassing purity that I fear it will burn me to dare profane it with my touch. Time is eternal; the pearl flows, the jade turns, and yet I remain, walking my crooked path and you your straight broad bridge, shining with righteousness. I see you and yearn for you both day and night, and even in my dreams…”

He reached out and put his hand on Lan Qiren’s. “I would have you be mine, if you would have the same.”

No hollowed-out puppets soon to be discarded here, Lan Qiren thought nonsensically, and swallowed.

“I am yours,” he said carefully, pronouncing each syllable at a time. He had to get this right, he thought, and he would only ever have this one singular chance to do so, or else he’d lose something as bright and shining as the pearl Wen Ruohan was always comparing him to. “I am your sworn brother, as you are mine; I will always be yours.”

“I know,” Wen Ruohan said, and it seemed for once that Lan Qiren had expressed himself clearly rather than muddling it up: he hadn’t misunderstood him into thinking that what Lan Qiren had said was a rejection. “If I were not one of those evil men that your rules warn you against, I would find it in myself to be content with that. But I am, and I am not.”

Lan Qiren wet his lips with his tongue. “You know what I told you,” he reminded him. “About how I – I could compromise myself if I had to, if it made you happy, but I don’t want to have to. That is not who I am, what I am. I don’t want to have to bend and yield. I don’t want to break under the weight of love the way my brother did.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him, patient and waiting.

“I’m not comfortable with that type of intimacy, the type shared between lovers since the start of time,” Lan Qiren finally said. “I don’t want it intrinsically, and I don’t think I want it logically, either. More than that, I don’t think, having never wanted it before and not wanting it now, that I will ever want it. My brother once compared me to a block of ice or a mountain lake frozen over in winter, frigid, and there was something true to what he said. There is no heat that will make me melt as others do…and yet.”

“And yet?”

“And yet you are not the only one who wishes to possess.” He met Wen Ruohan’s eyes. “I, too, would have you be mine.” 

His stupid Lan sect heart, burning a hole in his chest; it should have been enough to make him forget his own wishes and be willing to give in, to want to give everything to his beloved no matter the cost to himself, but it wasn’t – he wasn’t. And yet, at the same time, he judged his own affections to be no less than his brother’s for all that they were quieter and less flamboyant, understated rather than loudly proclaimed

Wen Ruohan leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together. “Then why don’t you claim me?”

“Because I cannot offer you what I should,” Lan Qiren said truthfully. “What you would expect –”

“And when,” Wen Ruohan cut him off, “have I ever cared for the expectations set out by the rest of the world? Would I have done half the things I did if I cared for the world’s conventions and determined my aims through their lens?”

Lan Qiren had to admit that he had a point.

“I know what you are,” Wen Ruohan said. “To taint you would be to ruin my own pleasure, to force you would be to deny myself – and I never deny myself. I am greedy, little Lan; I am not content with what the world would have me want, not when I can have what I really want.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“Lao Nie told me that he told you about his wife,” Wen Ruohan said. “How he stayed and she went, and they were still happy…I want that, with you.”

Lan Qiren frowned, not understanding.

“I want you,” Wen Ruohan told him, and his long-fingered hand traced over Lan Qiren’s cheekbone. “I want to have you, to own you, to keep you. I want to possess you down to the marrow of your bones; I want every inch of you in every way that I can have you. I want you to be mine – and I don’t need to fuck you to have it.”

Lan Qiren stared at him.

Wen Ruohan smile was like his smirk, triumphant and arrogant, certain of his impending victory. “If I want sex, I have my wives or Lao Nie for that, don’t I? To my wives I have only promised power, which I have given them. As for Lao Nie, I know now that he cannot promise me his heart: he is too facile, too free, too easy with others – he is compelled to share not only his body, which I wouldn’t mind, but also his heart, and I find that I am as unwilling to share in matters of the heart as you are to share your body.”

He shifted closer yet again, until their eyes were level with each other and their breath intermingled in the air between them.

“You will not be like him,” he said, voice dark and certain. “You’re barely willing to divide your attention to things you consider less important than your particular interests. Your heart is your clan’s curse and its treasure, taking you to the heavens and casting you down to the hells – if you give me your heart, full and entire, it will be as if you have removed it from your chest and put it in my hand. No one else will have any part of it, not like this, not in this way. It will only be me.”

“That is true,” Lan Qiren said. “I love no less deeply than my brother. My heart is a placid lake with a surface as clear as glass – you can see everything therein. Within it, there are only my interests, my nephew, my few friends, and you.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile widened.

“What exactly are you thinking?” Lan Qiren asked. His heart was beating in his chest so fast that it hurt. “If you want the assurance, you have it already: I am yours, and you are mine, and it would shatter me to let you go now. Is that what you want?”

“It is.” Wen Ruohan laughed, and it was full of pleasure. “Ah, little Lan! It is, it is.”

“What does it change?” Lan Qiren asked. “How is it different from what we have already?”

“It changes everything,” Wen Ruohan said simply, and Lan Qiren thought about and felt that he was right. “Knowing that you are mine makes it easier to release you into the world, to watch you shine and others see it; let them all look and know that it will never be theirs. All good things in the world are mine, and you are the best among them.”

“Pretty words,” Lan Qiren said, aiming for dry but probably just coming off as short of breath. “I’m a little more interested in the practical.”

“I would have you share my pillow while you are here,” Wen Ruohan said. “I do not need you to share your body with me, but I would have your company as a husband has his wife’s…and there are things that can be done without involving your body, depending on your tolerance.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Wen Ruohan grinned. “As it happens, that’s a matter I’ve given some considerable thought to…”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes, and felt the heat in his ears fade a little; he appreciated the small reprieve from the emotional intensity, the humor breaking the tenseness of the moment.

“You know I find you beautiful,” Wen Ruohan said, and this time his hand came to rest on Lan Qiren’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his lips, and as quickly as that the reprieve was gone. “Perhaps you would permit me to find my own pleasure beside you, gazing upon you, or even invite another to share the bed while you busy yourself with your work – you are never as beautiful as when you are focused, your soul and mind wholly absorbed in your passion for the subject. Perhaps I would invite you to read a spring book for me, spilling out dirty words in that cool tone of yours that you use regardless of the circumstance, so that I might torment myself with hearing you at any time and think of that…I have a thousand and one ideas, little Lan, and I would try them all to see which ones you like and which ones you don’t, to yield to your preference and glory in so yielding.”

None of that sounded like something Lan Qiren would dislike, he thought to himself; it really was only his own personal involvement in the act that he truly objected to. And if Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren’s heart and Lao Nie’s body, and both their friendship besides, perhaps even he in his ceaseless ambition could find a way to be satisfied with what he had for a time.

“I would like that,” he said honestly.

“Then having gained a cun, I will take a chi,” Wen Ruohan said. “I would like to kiss you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed.

“…all right,” he said. “You may.”

And he did.

[houseofpurplestars]

Mandy ramblings (major spoilers)

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.

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Mandy correlates the patriarchy with literal evil, both demonic and evangelical. These two sides, God and the Devil, they are the same side. Patriarchy thrives on false binaries.

The deconstruction of the patriarchy is on display immediately: Red destroying a tree, a necessary part of a healthy and natural world. The battle of Red against the patriarchy is foreshadowed on the radio. The conservative preacher spewing nonsense- which Red shuts down promptly- is just another Jeremiah Sand.

Red's literal job is to destroy, whereas Mandy's is to create. While, yes, this leans into a patriarchal stereotype of woman-as-creator, it matters less that Mandy is a woman, and more that she is open, honest, and curious.

We see Red leave the bleak destruction behind, and retreat to a haven of creativity. It is easy to assume that Mandy is Red's safe place. There is a light that glows inside him and through Cage, manifesting in his smiles and silly jokes. He becomes human, he has a function other than destruction; he can love. He can, beyond the grasp of the patriarchy, be nurturing and supportive, both for himself and his partner.

Red and Mandy's relationship, their love, is cosmic. It does not need definition. It's pure, it is as organic as anything else around them as they live deep within the woods. This is illustrated poignantly as they lie together in bed in a room made of glass. Their home is all windows, like a greenhouse: a place that is open to the eye and fosters growth.

Red asks Mandy about what she read that day, and she tells him about Jupiter and Saturn. Red invokes Galactus, eater of planets, in a moment of both self-reflection and foreshadowing.

Mandy wakes Red after the dream of the fawn- implying that it was actually his dream- and he is the one who says, "sometimes I wonder if we should move away from this place" and Mandy says she likes the peace of living in the woods.

When Mandy tells the story of the starlings- a symbol of thriving community- we see that Red is her safe place, too. Her body bears evidence of trauma (the scar on her face), and her heterochromatic eyes hold an existential weight that suggests a depressive.

I believe this is less an instance of reducing a woman's character to her body (she is only shown naked in Red's Heavy Metal-inspired animated dreams) than a deployment of Cosmatos' visual storytelling style. He seems to take a minimalist approach to story, and being able to infer a character's backstory from their appearance (rather than spending much time expositing on it) seems the kind of creative choice he would make.

As for the cultists, Sand is a caricature of Patriarchy. He is male privilege personified: impulsive and demanding, his desires catered to by doting women and opportunistic men.

The film's reluctance to explicitly state a connection with demonic forces only bolsters its ability to act as an apt metaphor. Whether Sand is possessed by a demon is inconsequential. Whether the so-called black skulls are literal demons makes no difference: they certainly are not human. Much like the physical enforcers of patriarchy (police), their vice is power, and they have forfeited whatever humanity they may have had. To ally with them is to make a blood pact, and be forever stained.

The way Sand is so easily disarmed by Mandy's laughter when he attempts to intimidate her illustrates the truly fragile nature of not only the male ego, but the patriarchy itself. There are many ways, large and small, to disrupt the patriarchy. This is why the system protects itself so fiercely, dispensing retribution for any perceived slight. There is an echo of witchcraft hysteria in the way Sand dooms Mandy for daring to intimidate him. Her power is such a threat to him that he must erase her completely.

The tiger is less a directly-representative animal for Red as it is (in the tarot sense) a Death-like signifier for transformation.

Red is wearing the tiger shirt throughout his torture, returning to an empty house, and finally confronting his grief in the bathroom scene. These are all stages of transformation. Whoever Red was before is gone. Now he is someone different.

On the forging of the ax, Cosmatos said:

"I wanted the weapon that he forges himself to crystallize, a manifestation of his grief and insanity and not like a real object; more like a mythical artifact that he sort of pulls out of his soul in a way."

I feel that Red is pouring his soul into The Beast through the ritual of forging it, and that his body is left a husk. The Beast is imbued with everything Red has left within him, the last human parts of him; his rage, his grief, his commitment. He is becoming the weapon.

When Lizzie the tiger is freed, there is another transformation. Red has morphed again, now blood-stained and altered by cocaine and demonic LSD.

The Chemist repents when he sees Red and recognizes the "cosmic darkness" surrounding him. Red doesn't have to say anything in the scene for the man to be swayed. Simply standing firm is enough to show an example to someone who, deep down, knows better.

Red wields the tools of patriarchy against itself: the chainsaw and the axe. While the axe becomes a symbol of himself, for it is a tool with many purposes, the chainsaw becomes the symbol of man vs man. Like the patriarchy, the chainsaw serves no purpose but to destroy.

What we see by understanding that Red enjoyed his revenge is that he is not immune to the thrall of the same evil possessing Sand. While he may be standing on the righteous side of this particular situation, he is susceptible to the same follies. I believe the connotation here is that, while the evil of patriarchy continues, men will be unable to create. They will only bring forth- and only find pleasure in- pain and death.

The film itself can serve as a metaphor for challenging the patriarchy, but also a warning that men are only empowered by evil. After all, if one must become evil in order to defeat evil, then one must ultimately destroy oneself.

I believe the film says point-blank: men are evil, and men themselves must clean the house. They must destroy that evil- which has the potential to reside in any one of them- or it will destroy everything worth living for.

[kneamet]

Inspired by Wandavision. Reader is trapped in a perfect world of sitcom. However, she notices that her husband Loki is in control of everyone. I also ask for a scene that Loki goes to SWORD agents and threatens them like Wanda.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, forced, kidnapping

Word Count: 2768

Character: Loki/reader

Summary: you knew that your husband was a magician, but you never thought that he would decide to create a perfect false world

POV Your

It was strange. Very strange. The world has seemed unreal to you lately. Everything was so unrealistic that I wanted to gouge out my eyes.

You looked down at your hands, feeling extremely worried. This acrid feeling burned and ate away at you from the inside out, making you feel anxious. It was very scary and unusual.

"Darling, what are you doing? Thinking about genesis?" the mocking velvety baritone whose owner was currently smiling softly at you from behind asked you. A light laugh followed his sentence. Laughter, like a crowd laughing at a joke.

You shook your head. It seemed particularly heavy now. Reflection and thoughts struck your bright, unfilled dark thoughts, head.

"Loki, what is that laugh?" you asked, turning your head to look at him. Loki only raised an eyebrow at your remark and smiled at you again, shaking his head and walking down the stairs towards you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my sweet queen? What are you getting at?" coming up to you and touching your hair with the big hand that did the magic and gently running it through it. You blinked, leaning away from her husband's touch.

You loved his touch. So soft, so tender, so in need of the necessary love, which... What is it? Why can't you remember?

"Loki, honey, can I ask you something?" you could feel his nod as you stared at the dark screen on the off-screen TV. "What happened before we came to Westview? I can't remember, " you said in confusion, turning completely into Loki, who was looking at you with a serious look, frowning.

There was a lonely silence between you and your husband. On the top floor, the children could be heard frolicking and playing among themselves. The tension that weighed down the souls of those in the main room was overwhelming.

"Is this how pregnancy affected you? You know, I'm not an expert, but after this stage in life, girls are very suspicious of their husbands, " Loki smiled charmingly again, sitting down next to you on the blue sofa that sagged under his weight, and hugging you around the neck, kissing you on the cheek. It was a ridiculous kiss, more like a reassuring kiss.

The laughter came again. It was an unusual laugh when you see someone in front of you and they laugh. No, it was a laugh on the echoes of consciousness, which in an endless rhythm only intensified when a "funny" joke was heard. It was suspiciously strange. You felt your hands start to sweat a little.

With your lips pressed tightly together and your teeth biting the inside of your cheek, you stood up, emerging from Loki's pleasant captivity. His hands, which you so loved to touch, had to be left behind, freeing yourself from a pleasant manual captivity.

You loved Loki. He was a very interesting man... No, not a man, but a God, to put it mildly. Your beloved God, who was head over heels in love with you. He was very sarcastic and handsome: that black hair of his, which was now cut short in a perfect style; green eyes, so attentive that nothing escapes them. What can I say here, he's a God.

Grabbing your coat from the hanger and going straight up the stairs and heading straight for the door, wanting to get out and get some fresh air, as well as refresh your obsessive thoughts by going deeper into the thoughts that haunted you even at night.

"Honey, are you going somewhere?" getting up from the sofa, your husband asked obsessively, smiling at you and in an instant, teleporting, being near you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

You mastered your shoulder from his hand, shaking it slightly and not even paying attention to it, opened the door, saying:

"Get some fresh air. Keep an eye on the boys," you muttered as you closed the door behind you, not even bothering to look at your husband, who was standing there with a tense face, looking at you. It's a good thing you didn't notice.

You wanted to get out of this city. Find out what's next. Maybe we can find out from people if they know anything about you, or maybe it's just that you have a terrible memory.

But no, it can't be so terrible that you don't remember anything from the day you and Loki came to this city that seemed like an ideal city. Still, there was something wrong. Something was bothering you.

Deciding not to slow down and just walk towards the end of the city, you began to look around. You didn't walk very far, maybe fifty meters from your house, and everything was fine.

"Hi, Rob!" you shouted to your fool from work, to which he only smiled painfully at you, and your feeling only grew stronger when you saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

We need to get out of this city faster and find out from the people who live nearby if they know what's going on here in Westview.

You didn't remember when this craze to find out what was going on in this town started. Maybe when you haven't seen the kids on the playground for a couple of days in a row? Or when your friend Geraldine left so suddenly that you didn't notice? Or when the children began to grow very quickly? Or maybe when I saw the tears of the residents, when they portrayed happiness?

It was difficult. You couldn't put the details together, and your mind refused to remember your past, which you couldn't just forget. There must have been something, right? Your memories couldn't have started with you coming here with your husband, could they?

You shook your head, looking up and noticing that the main city was gone, leaving only small houses and a road that led off into the distance. Just where the STOP sign is placed. Is travel prohibited for everyone, or just for you and the people of this city?

Suddenly you stopped, clutching your head. No, no, no, what if you're imagining it? What if this is all just a game of your excited mind? Maybe you just made it all up and the people at Westview are really happy?

Squinting at the small house, your eyes only widened in fear, which was reflected in your trembling hands and your herd of goosebumps that ran down your back. The woman stood motionless, as did the man, apparently he was her husband, and she was his wife. They just stared at one point, apparently not even breathing. It was scary to see and you didn't dare approach them.

Looking around and not noticing anyone behind you, only frozen people, you stepped a little further, overcoming the road, noticing a strange, whatever it was, but it looks like a wall or some kind of dome that was blue mixed with green, similar to the colors of magic... Loki?

You knew about Loki's abilities. That he's quite a powerful mage, but could he create this dome? Was he so powerful that you didn't even know it? Your hands trembled, and so did your lower nooba. Your eyes stared at that dome-wall in amazement and tortured fear.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open as you finally put together the details that had previously been a dead weight in your head.

When you touched it with your hand, you felt yourself being pulled in. It became uncomfortable. Now the question of real life was being decided, where you would learn everything about yourself and live in a world where there were no lies, or whether it would be better to stay in a world full of lies, but with your husband. Your hand has wavered in the direction of the false world. What if Loki gets angry? Did you know how evil he can be?

But no, as you said earlier, retreating now was too easy and incomprehensibly simple. To give up is to admit defeat, to remain in a world where you will always be written as a lie.

But Loki...

Shaking your head again, and finally stepping into that dome wall that seemed to shield you from the real world, you felt a pull with your foot and your whole body. So you didn't have to do anything. In any case, you will simply be thrown out of this world, soaked in lies.

As you tried to make your way through this wall with small steps, you felt how thick it was in its width and so high, although it did not bother you. Right now, all that filled my heart was a sense of freedom.

You felt like your mind was being released and memories were coming back to you from before you and Loki moved to New Jersey.

Suddenly, you felt something hit you in the back and you seemed to fly out of this wall right on the green grass with your stomach down. You groaned a little, sitting up and looking around.

There were people standing right next to you, surrounding you and looking at you in disbelief. Behind them were tents and huge body cars that flashed their headlights. Strange faces were looking at you, very worried. Your eyes went over the people very quickly before you said:

"Darcy?" you whispered, squinting against the light. She was the only person who supported you back then. Then? When?

"Y/N?"

"Help me, please save me!" you asked them, seeing how some of them began to approach you with a reliable expression on their faces, apparently wanting to help.

"I don't think you need any help, my dear queen," said a familiar soft and sweet baritone voice behind you, the sound of which your ears enjoyed. Your eyes widened and you felt fear. Inappropriate fear. Your legs are shaking. Your heart began to beat in a loud rhythm in your mind, drowning out everything except Loki's words, which were currently echoing in your head.

***

POV Loki

He did not think that his dear, dear queen would betray him. Didn't you realize that Loki did everything especially for you, wanting to dedicate every part of himself to you? Did he know that this world wasn't safe, and why did he have to create a fictional one based on your favorite TV shows, which he liked to watch with you, wrapped in a blanket on the comfortable sofa in your apartment, which he often visited earlier?

Loki loved you too much. He never wanted to hurt you, only to help you and make you feel needed and in love with someone.

He always thought you needed someone to take care of you. Yes, and take care so that you will feel like a queen. To protect, care for, and trust you, and the most important thing is to show love for you. What he missed so much.

Loki didn't like remembering the past. It was just a dark line that he crossed out when his mother died, whom he loved so much that he did not even notice the bright manipulations on her part. No, for him, she was a savior who protected him from his father's wrath.

Blinking and shifting his bleary gaze to you, his beloved queen, Loki tightened his grip on the missile that had been set upon him and his children. His favorite perfect twin boys that his beloved wife gave birth to.

They were so wonderful. Children are the flowers of life, isn't that what the Midgardians say? It seems to be. The ideal family, such as only happens in the movies, was embodied by Loki in the form of him, his beloved wife and two children.

Throwing a rocket in the direction of S.W.O.R.D., Loki lowered his head, feeling the magic that was green in color form in his hands and that was ready to kill everyone and get out of his personal life.

The contempt for people oozing out of his mouth was as ugly as it could possibly be. His gaze darted in your direction and softened slightly. The sight of you always calmed his raging mind and brought him to his senses. He took a step toward you, grabbing you in a sloppy hug, as if to show his protection.

It was nice for him to look at you. Your soft hair, in which he liked to bury his nose; your beautiful eyes, in which you could drown if you looked at them only once, and in which he was often lost. He saw you pursing your lips, frowning. Were you afraid?

Loki turned his gaze back to the agents, focusing his magic in his left hand. Magic that can cause pain.

"The rocket was a precaution. You can't blame us, Loki, " a loud male voice shouted. He didn't know him. But most likely it was the director. Loki's brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on you, doing nothing but protect you. He won't let the agents take you away. For too long, he had been alone, wandering the worlds.

"I don't think so. This is my last warning," as if a growl had escaped Loki's lips and the magic had only intensified, instilling the fear he so fiercely enjoyed. "Stay out of my house," the house he was so happy to have. A home where everyone loves him and waits for him. A house where he is respected. The house he missed. "You won't touch me, and I won't touch you," he warned, eager to get out of here and talk to his wife. They would have to have a long conversation.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You're holding the whole city hostage, " the unknown man shouted at Loki, to which Loki only curled his lip. Contemptuously. Didn't they understand that he just wanted to be happy? That he just wants to be alone with his beloved and his children?

"I'm not the one with the weapon," Loki warned him, feeling the arm he held around you tighten slightly, and the magic only increased its power. She seemed ready to destroy everything he could see. But right now, he had you, his beloved queen, at his side, who calmed him down with just an unobtrusive presence.

"But you're in control!" a commanding voice was heard. This time it was a woman. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki watched the expression on his beloved queen's face.

"Geraldine?" ah, what a gentle and quiet voice.

"Are you still here?" the man arched an eyebrow significantly, kissing you in the hair and looking with a withering look at the ex-girlfriend of his wife, who insinuated herself into the trust and into the affairs of his family.

"Loki... I didn't know the drones were armed. But you know that, don't you?" slowly approaching him and you, the woman said in a soothing voice, like a doctor talking to his sick patient. Loki always knew there was something wrong with her. She was too suspicious. "The city is full of civilians, but you, God, have brought an S.W.O.R.D. agent into your home," Loki frowned. The blood surged in his veins. He knew that at some point, he just wouldn't hold back. "I helped your wife give birth to your children," she looked at you, and you reflected her gaze with a look of hope. Do you want to leave him? "And on some level, you realize that I'm your ally. I want to help you, " she said in a trusting tone, and Loki slightly reduced the pressure of his magic that oozed from his thin fingers.

"How? What can you offer me?" he knew what she would say. There was no answer to that question. It was all reduced to one thing. The family Loki needed.

"What do you want?" the woman asked, standing in the background with the man who had spoken to him earlier, as if taking a manipulative pose.

"I already have everything. And no one will ever take that away again," Loki muttered, releasing a large stream of energy from his hands, forcing himself to control the minds of his subordinates and aim the scope at the director of S.W.O.R.D.

Turning around, Loki grabbed your hand, squeezing it in a painful grip and helping you turn around. He saw how you tried to resist and remove his intrusive hands and touch, to which the man himself only tightened his grip on you, pushing you into a false world.

[lovee-infected]

This is a weird thought, but what do you think the state of mental health treatment is in the TWST universe. We joke about Yuu being the school counselor, but the fact there isn't one at the school always struck me as odd. Not only that, some of the characters show some signs of mental health issues. Leona shows signs of depression. Idia might have an anxiety disorder. Jamil shows signs of PTSD-C. Silver has Narcolepsy. That's not the half of it. p1

Now this is a very interesting idea to discuss anon! I've seen this discussion regarding twst guys' mental health being brought up before so I'd like to get into the details. I guess I'd better use some real life references as well to clear my point!

First off, about the school counselor, do they even exist? Well although there was nothing mentioned about NRC having a counselor, I'd say that they most likely do because there's one in almost any school, and NRC as well is a famous and well-known school so lack of crucial school facilities such as having a counselor is far from mind. But the problem is, having a counselor isn't going to change everything.

Let me give you an example, during school and middle school I got to see plenty of other students having mental illnesses, serious issues, anxiety and enormous traumas. But not all of them had their way to the counselor's office, dare to say most of them didn't even try to talk to anyone including the counselor. And that's why having a counselor isn't enough; there's no point in there being a counselor if the students themselve don't go to them.

Now let's talk about the boys' mental state itself. We all agree that not all of them are in a pleasant mental status, from the severe results of their past lifes and hard childhoods to their unhealthy personality and manners. Some of them are dangerously manipulative (ex: Jade, Rook), some can be quite heartless and sadistic at the time (ex: Azul, Riddle, Leona), some are known for openly sadistic, causing troubles and injuring the rest if the students (ex: Ruggie) and some are found to be in pain because of their unwanted past and childhood traumas last. (ex: Leona, Idia, Azul) and lots of more cases you can name.

The biggest problem with such severe cases is how they seem to be totally unaware of their unhealthy acts. They've got a villainous nature too in general, so even if they feel like there's something wrong with what they're doing they won't necessary go to a counselor or ask for help in general. This is something quite common in real life as well because most of those who're struggling with mental issues are either unaware of it or unwilling to let anyone help them with it.

But since it's twst and NOT the real world which we're talking about...we should keep this in mind thaf they weren't supposed to be good in the first place!

I mean- just think of the game's official quote: "Welcome to Villains world", they were presented as students who have souls of the villains from the very beginning what else shouldd we expect to get-? LOL. Incomplete characters, not totally pure souls and dirty deeds are a totally expected concept to be found in the game, so we can't really question their unhealthiness because...this is how they were supposed to be all this time! Unhealthy just like villains but with more plot this time.

Well let's not forget that technically, all of the students in NRC are partly evil, otherwise they would've been sorted in other schools like RSA (Kalim and Lilia are the exceptions here, Kalim's father's money enabled him to enter NRC and Lilia technically came to NRC for Malleus, not that he needed to learn anything in NRC though).

The main thing that is making these twisted villains interesting is how they are being presented as students going to a school just like a normal teenager, the ability to make the audience relate and feel like they've been in character's shoes before makes it way more enjoyable than a gave which just throws some handsome villains with far from imagination background and unbelievable stories.

Idia would be a perfect example for this point, his design is legitimately showing what most of the teenagers look like these days. From wearing hoodies all the time and spending most of their time online to lack of real life communicating and having a low self-esteem.

We aren't going to talk about Idia now but that's basically what is happening with him, you can hear many fans saying: "I like Idia! He's such a mood" or "Man I couldn't relate to Idia anymore... He's just me" and many other compliments that show how this ability to relate to Idia and understand what it feels like to be him has made him considerably popular!

Same goes for other characters, most of them are designed to have belivable backgrounds and stories therefore which makes it very easy to relate to them. Most of them had to go through a hard time back in childhood, and so did many of us humans. From being bullied to having family issues, twst is trying to attach fans by showing how the characters have gone through the same pain as them. They aren't trying to hide that dark and unhealthy side, they want us fans to see it and feel what the characters feel.

They are indeed twisted villains because they aren't just designed to be evil; the most important part of their design is their personality and character development, they used something more than hot appearances and charming designs to make people all over the world fall for twst, they wanted the fans to feel genuinely and mentally attached to the characters as well.

Imagine going through the same trauma as Azul: being bullied as a child. It's a very common thing to happen during one's childhood yet the damage would remain for years, so when characters like Azul are being focused on, the audience can feel much better to see how that unfairness and cruelty isn't being shallowed anymore. None of our twst characters boys are perfect, and that imperfection is the main purpose of this game!

They aren't going to tell lies and give us some picture-perfect villains and all, they're going to tell us the story of the evil souls who were once pure; just as people say: “No one is born evil.” Humans can relate to the pain way more than they can relate to thr happiness, and this is what makes Twst brilliant. They aren't scared to show us that imperfection and incompleteness and once again, remind us all that no body is perfect.

Twst has used irl triggers and traumas in its character design, they crested twisted villains whom you can relate to, understand, feel attached to and love!

[haloshornsinkstains]

Mine [Tomura Shigaraki]

This is a bit different from most of my other writing I think? Read the content warnings. It’s not as fluffy as a lot of my other writing. It was just an idea that wouldn’t go away and I finally got it all written out.

Sorry I haven’t updated much this week, first week back at work has been rough. Always open for requests though, especially headcanons or thirsts/drabbles atm.

CW: Omegaverse (Alpha!Shigaraki, Omega!Reader), female reader, NSFW, dubcon , blood, violence, kidnapping

Distressed omegas were meant to be a cowering, whimpering mess. They were meant to be easy to control, to comply subserviently with an Alpha, or even a Beta, in order to remedy whatever situation had them in such a state. Distressed omegas were most certainly not meant to be snarling, snapping and occasionally sending ripples of electricity and broken earth out at their captors. Which is exactly what you were doing.

 It was supposed to be an easy job, scope the place out, report back on your findings. The place was not, according to all the previous intel, supposed to be a hideout for one of the most notorious villain groups in all Japan. But just your luck, that was exactly what it was. You’d expected to die, honestly, when the small blonde had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe dying would have been the better option, rather than being tied up and surrounded by the League. You weren’t even entirely sure why you weren’t dead, she’d mumbled something about your scent and in a blurry series of events you’d found yourself here, growling at their leader as he crouched before you, easily recognisable with the hand obscuring his face.

 “Can someone tell me why we have a distressed omega in the middle of our floor?” He rasped, taking his eyes away from you for a moment to scan the group. “We caught her sneaking around!” Toga grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  “Right. So why is she here and not, say, dead?” Shigaraki growled, before whipping his head back to you, nose wrinkled. “And will you stop that? You smell terrible.” You merely snarled in response. You knew your distress tinged your natural scent with a sour note that wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t as if you could control the feeling given your current predicament. “Um, boss, we do have her tied up. It’s probably not entirely her fault.” “Spinny is right. She smelled so good before~” Toga beamed. You snorted. “She’s bleeding, of course you thought she smelled good.” “Not like that! The blood smelled good, but she smelled right before she started bleeding. Then she smelled better~”  Tomura sighed, shifting forwards towards you to try and see what the beta girl meant. You shuffled backwards, baring your teeth at him in a snarl, sparks skittering off your skin towards him. Tomura snarled back, sharp canines glinting from between chapped lips in a clear threat. “Stop it! I could just kill you you know?” He glanced over his shoulder, missing the way your body drooped in poorly hidden hurt at his next words. “You just had to bring a broken omega didn’t you brat?”  Broken. You’d heard that before. No one wanted an omega who snarled and snapped back, instead of submitting at the drop of a hat. Omegas were supposed to be subservient. Motherly. They were supposed to have supportive roles. You were none of those, topped with an offensive type quirk, you weren’t what anyone would look for in an omega mate. You were broken, by their standards. “Stop. Calm down.” You reacted immediately to the new Alpha voice, your body relaxing against your own will, every fibre of your being racing to obey the alpha’s command. You turned your head to scowl at the man who’d pulled such a dirty trick, stupid Alpha’s and their stupid ability to make Omega’s obey. A scarred face grinned back at you, Dabi you realised, another strong Alpha - had to be to make you submit like that when you were so riled up. “You could’ve done that too you know creep, threatening her wasn’t going to make her any less distressed.” He huffed. “You’re the worst Alpha I’ve ever met.” Tomura scowled, scratching at his neck. “You must not spend much time with yourself.” Dabi huffed a laugh, leaning against the wall behind you. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck, clearly watching for you to make some move to attack as Tomura shifted closer. His scent was getting stronger, too much so to just account for his proximity. He was trying to calm you, you realised belatedly, a hand twitching near his neck as if he didn’t dare scratch at the damaged glands further. It took a moment for the scent to really hit you, your eyes going wide and panicked as your body reacted, the urge to fling yourself towards him and flee warring between each other and leaving your frozen in place. You shook your head as a needy whine bubbled from your throat unbidden. Tomura fell backwards, brows pinched together in what you thought was a similar kind of distress. In a panic you tried to focus on a different scent, anything to push the scent of dusty rooms and decaying leaves and belonging from your nose. Your head whipped to Dabi behind you, breathing deeply through your nose. He was another Alpha, surely his scent should do something to mask Tomura’s, but the smoke and spice was far too faint to cover whatever the other Alpha had pumped through the room. Noticing your gaze Dabi just offered a lazy shrug, tilting his head slightly with a smug smirk. The burn scars that covered his neck must have messed with his scent glands, which also explained the tang of burnt flesh you got from him. The Betas weren’t doing much either, and everyone smelled faintly of blood, including you. With another needy whine you gave up and focused hard on the floor, trying not to breathe more than strictly necessary. The world around you blurred and faded as you fought every instinct in you screaming to reach out to the Alpha and bare your neck to his teeth. 'Stupid body, stop it. I'm better than this, I've met plenty of strong Alphas before.' 'But none of them smelled like that. Good enough to make you react like this' your traitorous mind whispered back. 'Screw that. I am not my secondary gender. I'm a hero. I don't roll over for anyone, and certainly not an infamous villain. No matter how good he smells…' 'Smells like mate. Your Alpha.' '...mate. No!'. You snarled into the floor, not quite sure when you’d shifted position like this. You vaguely registered the shuffle of feet, Tomura had stood and moved away at some point, and the low rasp of orders. "Spinner, go put her somewhere." "Okay? Uh, where?" "Anywhere but here." A door slammed and you felt yourself being lifted, heated over a shoulder. Spinner you guessed, he smelled weird, even under the blood and soft scent that marks him as part of the pack. His smell was dry, like sand and tanned leather and something reptilliant you couldn't place. He jostled you slightly as he moved down some stairs, making you hiss at him in irritation. He growled back, finally dumping you in a small cellar, your hands still tied.

“What was that all about?” Toga asked, spinning a knife in her hands.  “You can’t guess?” Dabi sighed. “Do you know anything?” Toga just shrugged, humming to herself. “I know how to stab people.” “From the omega’s reaction I’d say she smelled a mate.” Compress sighed. “I’m sure you can piece together who from the reaction.” “Oh. Oh. Maybe that’s why she smelled so nice before.” Dabi shrugged. “What did she smell like before? I only got the sour distressed smell, and… well.” Toga winced, the sour smell had been unpleasant sure, but the strange musk after it hadn’t been so bad. It reminded her of how things smelled after she got to play with blood. “She smelled good, like thunderstorms and old things. A bit like the bar when we first got here, except with more lightning.” “That explains it. Creepy hands McGee is going to be a child about it though.” Dabi hummed.  “You should have more faith in our leader.” Dabi shot Compress a disbelieving look and shook his head. “This is going to be a pain.”

You weren’t sure how long you’d been trapped in their cellar. Two days maybe, if they were bringing you three meals a day, longer if not and well… three meals a day seemed a little too generous for the group of villains. Yet no one had come to find you, probably assumed you were dead you reasoned, but the abandonment stung somewhere deep in your chest. You’d smelled your mate several times since you’d been captured too, lurking outside the door but never coming any further. Each time the battle with your instincts got harder, the omega inside you begging to call out, to crawl to the door and beg for him to come in. Occasionally small whimpers would slip past your lips, ones that you would scold yourself for, but worse was the answering growl that sometimes came from the other side of the door. Low and possessive and filled with a promise of something both dangerous and so, so tempting. Those times it was even harder to stay back, your body trembling from the effort of staying still. You didn’t want him, not logically, he was dangerous and cruel and evil. Everything opposed to what you worked for in life. But your traitorous body smelled a mate, the first one you’d met since high school, and it wanted him so badly it ached. 

Meanwhile Dabi was getting more and more frustrated, nothing was happening with the League while their boss was fixated on their captive, and while he didn’t really care about the League’s goals where they diverged from his own, the inactivity was boring the others and their restlessness was driving him insane. That and the constant growling of the other Alpha made his hackles rise, part of him he thought he’d buried long ago wanting to fight over the omega. It was stupid and he hated it, so it needed to be solved, and he knew just the thing to kick Shigaraki into action.

 You snapped awake from a fitful sleep as you heard the door to the cellar opening. A traitorous part of your mind hoping it would be your mate. Instead the faint smell of burning caught you nose and you huffed, turning away from the other Alpha. You heard a growl from behind you but ignored it, pulling the blanket around you protectively. “Go away.”  There was a rough laugh. “I don’t think so little Omega. All this pining is getting annoying.” You huffed. “There is no pining. But if you’re here to kill me just get it over with, this cellar smells terrible.” “Tempting but no” he grabbed your shoulders, flipping you onto your back in one swift motion “I’ve got a much better plan.” Your body tensed up, preparing to fight whatever this asshole planned to do to you, despite the power-dampening bands they’d locked onto your wrists. You pulled your legs up, closing them tightly, ready to kick him away. But Dabi was deceptively strong, pinning your legs down with one arm as his other grabbed something from his coat pocket, binding it over your nose and mouth. A gag, you thought at first, ready to scream for help that probably wouldn’t come as soon. But then the smell hit you, your eyes going wide and panicked. It was his smell, dusty and decaying and enough to set all of your nerves on fire. You thrashed on the bed, tossing your head around and trying to get it off, get away from the intoxicating scent, but Dabi had a hand pressed hard against your throat. “Behave.” You froze with a whimper that you hated yourself for. “Good Omega. Now, we just need to wait until your heat kicks in and this’ll all be over.” You struggled weakly again, your heat hadn’t been very far off when you first broke in here anyway, the overwhelming scent of Alpha, of Mate, would only bring it on faster. And with Dabi pressing down on your neck you felt you might pass out before you could get the clothing off you. Everything was hazy and the blood was pounding in your ears as the edges of your vision darkened.

 Dabi sighed, climbing off you and sniffing the air. Beneath the sour sting of distress he could smell the sweetness and thick musk that signalled an impending heat. A couple hours and you’d be in full heat he figured, plenty of time to convince the creep to get down here and trap him in here with you. Dabi figured he’d either kill you, fuck you and then kill you or (and it was probably the least likely) actually claim you as a mate and stop this ridiculous moping. Maybe having an omega around the place would be useful, you were supposed to be good at looking after people and all that shit and god knows these idiots need it. Now he just had to convince the creep to actually enter the cellar.

 In the end it was easier than he thought. All he had to do was suggest you were in some kind of danger and some long dormant Alpha instincts seemed to kick in, sending Shigaraki darting into the cellar before his brain could catch up with what he was doing. With a satisfied bark of laughter Dabi slammed the door shut again, banking on the boss’ instincts kicking in before he could think of disintegrate the door with his quirk. Sliding the lock shut he turned to address the door, raising his voice so he could be heard inside. “We’re all sick of your nonsense, so either fuck or kill each other. I don’t care.” You were staring wide eyed at Shigaraki from your makeshift blanket nest, a sheen of sweat making your skin almost glow in the dim light. The room stank with the scent of your heat, sickly sweet and tinged with ozone. For his part Shiagraki had pressed himself back against the door, staring at you as if you were about to pounce on him and eat him alive. Though, in his defence, your instincts were screaming at you to do exactly that. In a way it was almost funny, that something so simple could reduce someone so powerful to panic like this, but you knew how dangerous that could be at the same time, how easily he could kill you. You tried to growl at him, but it came out more like a needy whimper, a ripple of pain running through your body. You knew it was only a matter of time before he lost control, maybe it was better to just get it over with… the way your body was screaming at you was getting harder to ignore too. Before you realised what was happening you had started to crawl towards him, his snarl the only thing that snapped you out of the heat daze and made you stop. “Stay back.” You froze, studying him carefully. He was trembling, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face, his hands frozen into claws on the floor, pinkies raised. So it was getting to him faster than you bargained for. Great.  “I’m trying!” You hissed. “Try harder!” You narrowed your eyes, a snarl escaping your lips. “Screw you.” He answered with a growl, deep and low in his throat, the sound making you whine and press yourself to the floor on instinct, hips raised in the air. In the few seconds it took you to realise what you were doing something in Tomura snapped, the scent of your heat and the submissive mating position sparking every instinct in his body. In a flash you’re trapped beneath him, feeling the solid press of his length against your ass. He’s trembling, barely restrained as he ruts against your clothing. It’s sweet, in a twisted way, that he’s this far gone but still trying to hold on to a thread of control, to wait for your consent. And with him pressed so close, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, you know you can’t hold off much longer. Each time you try to say no it comes out as whine, your heat growing stronger with each passing heartbeat. “Please.” It comes out as a whine, but your hips rocking back against his is more than enough to tell him what you want.

 His fingers scrabbled at your pants, careful to keep his pinkie away from the clothes even in this state.  You heard the groan as he saw the mess of slick sticking to your underwear, you could feel it starting to run down your legs, the smell almost overwhelming. You heard more fabric rustle before you felt him pressing against you, felt the quiver in his body as he stilled with his head just pressing at your entrance. You whined, low and needy, bucking your hips back against him again, knees pressed together by your hastily tugged down clothes and chest cold against the floor. Behind you he growls, hips bucking forwards with enough force to almost push you over. His body folded over yours, hands pressed against the floor, away from you. A small thing, but it speaks volumes about his unwillingness to hurt you, that the bond of knowing you’re mates has stuck with him too. It’s the last coherent thought you have before your brain is completely overcome with a haze of lust, devoid of any thoughts except how good his cock feels inside you, hard and heavy rubbing along your inner walls. Your hands scrabble against the floor as he bucks up into you, pressing against a spot on your insides with every thrust that makes you see stars, his breath a series of harsh pants in your ears. There��s no dirty talk, no indication how much he’s enjoying this aside from the occasional ‘fuck’ or low moan. You could feel his knot pressing against your entrance, stretching you a little more with each thrust, brushing against your clit and pushing you closer and closer to your release. You knew anyone who passed would be able to hear your wanton moans and whimpers through the door, too lost in pleasure to control your volume. “Please. Please knot me Alpha, mate.” You whined, rocking back against him. “Need you.” There was a low chuckle from above you, dark and twisted. “Lost all your fight little omega? How pitiful.” You whined, clenching down around him. It was all it took for him to thrust hard once more, his knot pushing past your outer ring and locking itself inside you. The sudden pressure tipped you over the edge, spasming around his dick, barely aware as he made a final few shallow thrusts before groaning and tipping over the edge himself, filling you with his warm come. The pain of his teeth latching onto your neck, the sharpened canines piercing through the bond mark, was enough to bring you out of your daze. “Mine.”  Locked together you could feel his tongue lapping at the wound, cleaning the blood and soothing the sting of the bite. You tried not to struggle, worried the movement would anger him, even as you could hear the mutterings of ‘mine, my omega’ against your skin. With the worst of your heat sated right now you could almost think clearly again, despite the stretch of his knot inside you firing all kinds of signals inside your body. You’d allowed yourself to be claimed by one of the biggest villains in Japan, in a dingy basement against a cold stone floor. He’d bitten you and marked you as his. There was no way they were going to let you out of there now, no matter how much you begged or used your ‘omega charms’ on them. You were trapped. At least the claim would offer you some protection from the others, or so you hoped.

What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

[perkynurples]

... May I ask you about the slow excruciating progression from Meng Yao to Jiggy?

also paging @holdmycaffeine and @cadencekismet, who asked me for the very same, and @acutebird-fics, who is my partner in crime deep philosophical discussions about these characters, and a great deal of this messy essay is informed by those

Tl;dr: JGY is a multifaceted character and the author struggles not to lose her mind trying to find the right words to describe that. Literally every single point of this rant is up for discussion, begging for it even, so please don’t hesitate to engage me, but, like... tomorrow, maybe. After I sleep it off.

Meta I used or referenced: THIS ONE explaining how JGS deciding to give him the name GuangYao is all kinds of wrong | THIS ONE talking about the red bindi-like Jin forehead dots, among other things | THIS ONE about his capacity for evil and his own recognition thereof

-

Alright, without any fancy preamble, here goes. Honestly, whenever I think about JGY for more than three seconds, it becomes painfully evident that there are two wolves inside me at all times - one wants to spend tens of thousands of words exploring his narrative, his choices, his abilities and his failings, his capacity for violence as well as his capacity for love...

And the other one just likes to call him a gremlin in chief in a fancy hat, and doesn’t want to go much further than that. I’m going to try and feed them both.

The thing that pisses me off about Meng Yao is just. The fact that he doesn’t stay Meng Yao, and we get to watch it happen in slow motion. You get a tiny little twink-ass kid who suddenly finds himself adopted into the Nie by the Sect Leader himself, and this is Meng Yao, the son of one of Jin Guangshan’s many mistresses, who doesn’t have a whole lot going for him aside from that, at that moment - his cultivation, weak. His opportunities, nonexistent. His dick, small. His political savvy, only just starting to show itself.

And this guy gets the chance of a lifetime presented to him on a Qinghe-silver platter. Like, we can argue about book canon and try and decide if he did anything at all to make NMJ notice him, but show canon makes it all the more hilarious (again, please refer to this gem of a post for a level of humor I’m sorely incapable of) - you’re seventeen, and the Batman of the cultivation world picks you up and elevates your status across swathes of societal norms, to a level you previously could have only dreamed of.

It’s interesting to me to try and imagine if this was the moment that Meant Something - in the grand scope of things, of course it did, because it started MY on the road to JGY, but also to Meng Yao personally, in terms of what he believed he could comfortably achieve. I do not for a second believe he started out wanting to murder people to reach his goal, or that he even had a good goal to begin with - being accepted by his father, maybe. Murdering the (at the time) greatest villain in the world, becoming a renowned spy, landing an incredibly beneficial sworn brotherhood, et cetera et cetera? I mean, the kid has wet dreams, but no way do they reach this far at this point in his life.

But so many things about him are unclear. Show canon changes his timeline, in that he met NMJ before he met Lan Xichen, and even accompanied NHS to the Cloud Recesses. Either way, his stint with the Nie is incredibly personally important to him. I firmly believe he loved and admired them, in his own way. He certainly flourished under NMJ’s tutelage and approval, but in the end, his motivations, his entire raison d’etre, clashed with NMJ’s too much. To Meng Yao, who’d gotten kicked down those infamous Koi Tower stairs for daring to ask for his father’s attention, murdering a guy for slandering him and his mother was a natural outcome of being slandered his entire life, and finally having had enough - to NMJ, it was unforgivable.

But this still isn’t where Meng Yao becomes Jin Guangyao, and it begs the goddamn question - how much of what JGY was perfectly willing and capable of doing to stay in power, had been present in Meng Yao that entire time? You see him make excuses that someone who isn’t NMJ, with his incredibly staunch morals and black-and-white view of the world, might have even accepted, but instinctively, you know - making excuses is just how it’s going to be with this guy.

Because Meng Yao, as well as Jin Guangyao, lies, and he is damn good at it. He is so good at it, that he lies his way to the very top of the Wen, all the way to Wen Ruohan’s side. His lying is what enables him to become Jin Guangyao. And like any good liar, he doesn’t only lie to the people around him - he also lies to himself.

And I can’t blame him, because - been there. Lying to yourself becomes absolutely necessary, when you want to keep everyone else around you believing in a mask you wear. You need to start believing it, at least a little bit, at least sometimes, for it to work.

At this point, you’re probably wondering - but Annie, what about the time he spent a year sheltering Lan Xichen? Did he lie then? Was he not just Meng Yao, a poor but cunning bookkeeper, then? I’m getting there, I swear. Slowly and in a roundabout sort of way, because honestly, I don’t know how I can start talking about the LXC of it all, without it turning into a novel.

Because whichever way you twist it, whatever canon you choose to follow, one constant remains - A-Yao’s feelings for Lan Xichen. I’m deliberately not calling him Meng Yao or Jin Guangyao, because it’s these feelings that divide the two, but also ultimately unify them, fatally so. But we’ll get there.

In one version of events, Meng Yao travels to Cloud Recesses at the behest of NMJ, and falls in love with a statue made of jade there. In another version of events, they meet during something LXC only describes as ‘the shame of a lifetime’. Both of those events lead to Meng Yao sheltering LXC, hiding him, saving his life and those precious Gusu Lan texts.

Whatever version of events you choose to see as the right one, one other truth also remains - Lan Xichen offers freely and without asking that which Meng Yao has had to struggle to attain, that which has been denied to him time and time again, based only on the circumstances of his birth: respect. Lan Xichen never looks down on him, never brings up his origins, and instead extends him respect and dignity in a way only he is capable of - no fucking wonder Meng Yao admires him. No fucking wonder, when this amazing guy, this perfect pristine handsome number one young cultivator, looks at him, smiles at him, and actually sees him, son of a whore or not.

No fucking wonder Meng Yao loves him, and Jin Guangyao continues loving him. No fucking wonder he never means to hurt him, but does so anyway.

But here’s the thing - lying to yourself to make things work only gets you so far. Do I think Meng Yao spends restless nights in cold sweat dreading who he’s becoming, thinking about all the lives he’s taken to further his goals? Absolutely not. Do I think he does good things, often even great things, because it helps him feel better about himself? Do I think he both loves Xichen and keeps him around because it’s beneficial to him, having the Lan Sect Leader in his pocket, but also personally speaking, having someone who so firmly believes in the goodness in him? You bet your overly adorned murderhat I do.

And frankly, reducing Jin Guangyao to one or the other - coldblooded murderer or a man plagued by his own insecurities, helpless and trying to be kind in a world that’s so evidently against him - is doing a character like him a huge disservice. You have to consider all sides, if you want to truly understand him. Hell, I myself am by no means claiming to truly understand him! He pisses me off daily, and I’m writing this stream-consciousness-y thing because he simply won’t shut up in my head.

This kid makes Choices, and here’s the catch - he doesn’t regret a whole lot of them. If anything, I’d like to think he regrets going along with his father’s plans for so fucking long before finally realizing that avenue won’t bring him what he seeks. Killing Jin Guangshan, by the way? Very sexy of him, that I’ll admit. Guy was a pig.

But even the obviously Good Choices he makes? Building those damn watchtowers? Letting Mo Xuanyu stay at Koi Tower? Seating Qin Su by his side at that same throne where his shitty father entertained concubine after concubine? (Frankly, please make up your own mind as to whether he was lying or telling the truth about learning about Qin Su being his sister before or after they’d consummated their marriage, I’m choosing to believe that he hadn’t known.)

How much of it really happens out of the goodness of his own heart, and how much of it happens because he wants to improve his own reputation, kintsugi away the minuscule cracks in his own image until he’s once again a perfect picture of Jin gold? Is he himself even capable of telling the difference, recognizing where his good intentions end and his desire to look out for number one begins? When you spend so much time crafting your own perfect mask, in your own head as well as others’, the lines blur real fast.

I think ultimately, he craves respect as much as he does pity, and those two never mesh well - the cultivation world never truly accepts him, his father certainly never truly accepts him, but Jin Guangyao is not Wei Wuxian, he can’t just look at all of these perceived injustices and slights, all of this gossip and slander, and say ‘Whatever’. No, Meng Yao takes one look at the world standing against him so very vehemently, and decides to fight it, fight tooth and nail for his place in it, until he comes out Jin Guangyao on the other side, gilded and pristine, ascending the stairs of Jinlintai to exact his revenge on anyone who dares not accept him.

The Guanyin Temple, in a way, is a perfect little vignette of his character - we observe him wildly oscillating between seeking out the aforementioned respect and pity, confessing boldly and laughing loudly one second, and pleading on his knees and clutching onto Lan Xichen’s robe the next. To him, that night, and everything leading up to it, is a series of footholds - the ground begins crumbling under his feet when he learns of the letter, and he has to act fast. 

He buys himself time, excuse after excuse, thinking on his feet, and here’s the thing - he’s not necessarily the best at that. Anymore. Up until that point, until the letter and Qin Su and WWX turning up, everything is going according to plan, and his plan at this point is, frankly, correct me if I’m wrong, sitting pretty at the top of his golden tower and making sure the truth about him never comes to light, which... Well, we all know the truth has a nasty way of coming around when it’s least convenient for you. 

And I think Jin Guangyao (not Meng Yao) is, at that point, unused to being inconvenienced. Everything he ever does, he calculates, he twists the public opinion of himself, he twists individual people’s opinions of himself, to suit him - nothing unexpected ever happens anymore, because he’s played the game long enough to foresee most things. Nie Huaisang beats him at that same game, not because he has a huge plan spanning decades of his own, but because he’s good at improvising, kicking the hornet’s nest and then knowing where to direct the fallout - but that is another essay all of its own waiting to happen.

For now, I feel like I need to wrap this up before I lose my mind. Personally (and please feel free to challenge me on this any time), I don’t feel like there’s a single defining moment, or even a handful of them, traumatic or otherwise, that irrevocably turns Meng Yao into Jin Guangyao. Sure, being kicked down the literal stairs leading to a better place for you a handful of times will have you feeling some kind of way. Sure, serving a maniacal warlord while playing an impossibly high-stakes game of spy poker will leave a mark or two. Sure, your sworn brother spitting in your face the very insults you’ve been hearing your whole life and never learned to shake off, will make one more vestige of patience inside you irrevocably crumble to smithereens. But.

Your whole life, you work very, very hard. You know to put your head down and get your hands dirty, but you also know that sometimes, the best way out of a hairy situation is turning on those puppy eyes and appearing just a smidgen weaker, a smidgen more frightened and helpless, than you actually are. And if, when you actually tell the truth and people still don’t believe you, lying becomes easier, becomes, eventually, so easy it feels as natural as breathing? Well. Might as well use that particular skillset to sneak your way through a war, am I right? Might as well use it to build yourself a nest among the very vultures who resent you, and whom you resent, and make sure that they have to respect you.

In the end, to me? Jin Guangyao is the guy who jumps from person to person, from callout to very personal callout, there in the Guanyin Temple, just to stall for time, just to regain some sort of foothold in the situation - he’s the guy who probably views losing an arm as a necessary sacrifice, shakes it off and still gets to work from there.

Meng Yao is the guy who wants to take his mother with, and who asks Lan Xichen the one question he’s dreaded knowing the answer to his entire life - not ‘will you stay and die with me?’, but the one that hides beyond that.

Is this what devotion is? Respect? Love? Is there, at this moment in time, enough of all of those things in your heart that you will, in fact, stay and die with me?

When Lan Xichen says yes, without words but still loudly enough to be understood without a doubt, Meng Yao is relieved, while Jin Guangyao is vindicated.

When Lan Xichen says yes, neither version of A-Yao needs to hear any more than that - the seventeen-year-old boy shooting a shot way above his station and loving a statue made of jade, who wants Lan Xichen to survive, and the man wearing the wrong name and the title of the first Chief Cultivator of his generation, who wants Lan Xichen to live with the weight of all his mistakes and misgivings, are both, for once, in accord. They’re both happy, and they both make that final push to save him.

In conclusion, if there even is one to this jumble of random thoughts... Jin Guangyao and Meng Yao are one and the same. Aspects of one can be found in the other, but neither feels remorse about his choices. Both of them, in turn, are capable of amazing things. Both of them are, in fact, capable of decidedly horrible things. One builds a wall around the other so thick, so impenetrable, you only catch glimpses, and only the ones he allows you to see. One learns very quickly that vulnerability is dangerous, unless employed proactively, and the other one perfects the craft.

Both of them believe they are perfectly justified in their actions. Both of them believe their own line of reasoning, their own excuses. Both of them want to be loved, for very different reasons, or for the very same ones, at the end of the day.

Both of them aspire to greatness, Meng Yao some vague idea of it instilled in him by his mother teaching him to believe his own worth, Jin Guangyao a more concrete vision of it, always one step ahead, one step higher up those gilded stairs. Both of them are willing to excuse a whole lot to reach it, too.

And when Jin Guangyao finally stands in Koi Tower, properly this time, wearing that coveted golden peony, wearing that red zhushazhi and a much nicer version of the hat his mother always told him to wear, but also wearing the wrong fucking name, one that barely gives him a spot in the family he belongs to by blood?

All he needs to do is take one look in the mirror to see Meng Yao staring back, always there with him, always ready to remind him where he came from. He’s seventeen years old, and he just buried his mother, and somewhere out there, the rest of his life awaits. His smile is all dimples, and that, too, they have in common.

Time to get to work, Meng Yao suggests, and Jin Guangyao agrees.

[imagine-loki]

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 2/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly. 

RATING: M (eventually ) 

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

You had all of three seconds to hide your surprise.  You didn’t dare look as shocked as you felt.  You felt your heart speed and took a calming breath.  It would be ok.  This was a perfect opportunity and it was amazing.  You just had to nail the interview.

Happy opened the limo’s door and reached to offer you a hand.  It was a perfectly polite gesture and one that was clearly well-practiced.  He was clearly used to helping ladies. Or Omegas.  You placed your hand carefully in his and rose as gracefully as you could from the limo. You weren’t sure you were graceful enough.  You never seemed to be anything close to graceful.  Not model graceful anyway.  

All of the Omegas had an air of innocence about them.  Most of the time, anyway, and you were no exception.  It made sex appeal difficult to use in the ways the Alphas and Betas could use it, in the ways models and celebrities did.  Most of the Alphas saw you as someone to protect.  Not a child, never a child, but with a wholesomeness and naivety about you.   

Except when you went into heat of course.  But that wasn’t a topic for the moment.  You were on heat suppressants.  They were supposed to lessen the frequency and severity of your heats.  They weren’t 100% effective, but you’d been told they were better than nothing.  Pretty much every unclaimed Omega was on them.  No one wanted more unexpected heats than absolutely necessary.

You focused on the here and now.  You were here for an interview.  You had to prove to the team that you weren’t like the ‘normal’ Omegas.  You could help them.  You had healing gifts, a medical background. You understood why a team of superheroes would be interested in you.  Especially since most of them were Alphas.  They needed an Omega to live with them and balance their tempers out. 

You got to your feet and smoothed out your suit jacket as you climbed out of the limo.  “This way, Omega,” Happy told you kindly.  You nodded and gave him a warm smile.  He was only being polite, addressing you by your title instead of your name.  He couldn’t help smiling in return.  There were very, very few who were immune to an Omega’s charms.  Happy clearly wasn’t one of them, which was a good sign.  

Usually only the most depraved or evil were immune to an Omega’s charms.  Even Betas, other Omegas, and puppies weren’t immune.  

Happy placed a hand on the small of your back to lead you into the tower.  There was press around, taking pictures as he escorted you inside.  He wasn’t being rude by placing his hand on your back.  It was a protective stance, as one would expect of a Beta security guard escorting an Omega.  

Your entire caste was uncommon and to be protected.  

He was announcing without a single word that, at least for the time being, you were under the protection of him and the Avengers.  He nodded to a guard at a security booth outside the tower and led you onto the fenced grounds.  You glimpsed a Bifrost mark on the grass that seemed permanently burned into the spot from Thor traveling back and forth between Earth and Asgard so often.

You couldn’t honestly say that you hadn’t done as much research on the team as you could get your hands on.  They were amazing with their abilities, the things they had accomplished, all the hardships in their lives that they’d overcome.  

Needless to say, you knew quite a bit about the people you were coming to meet.

Happy led you in through the front doors.  “This is the lobby.  It’s kind of a museum of the Avengers’ exploits,” he explained as he led you inside.  “It’s open to the public up to the security desk,” there were glass cases with memorabilia all over the open main floor including weapons and a full ironman suit.  You saw the security desk by the elevators and Happy led you that way.  “Only those with clearance can make it to the higher floors.  The security guards and Jarvis, the computer who runs the tower, make sure that no one who isn’t authorized gets to anywhere they aren’t supposed to be,” 

You nodded along, glad for the security measures for when you were going to be living here.  Not if, when.  You’d only been in the tower for a couple of minutes and it already felt like home.  You hadn’t even made it past the private areas yet, and you already felt it.  “It’s impressive,” you finally said, not having anything more eloquent to say, and cursing yourself for that fact.

Happy flashed his badge to the security person.  “Omega Y/N for her interview,” he added on your behalf.  The guard looked the pair of you over and let you pass without complaint.  Happy led you into the elevator and pressed one of the buttons. You watched out the glass windows as the elevator rose quickly, rocketing smoothly up the tower.  “We’re heading to the common floor, it’s a bit more personal than the floor where the business meetings are typically held.  It’s also more private.” You understood that the Alphas would want to meet you in a more private setting, to get to know you away from interfering scents from the public.  

You’d all be more comfortable in the private setting. 

“You’ll be meeting Captain Rogers first,” Happy added.

You nodded your agreement.  “Thank you, Beta,” you said politely.  He gave you a warm approving smile.  You passed the security guard’s assessment at least.  You hadn’t frozen up and broken down like most Omegas would have at the surprise, the press, the amazing prospect of meeting the Avengers.

There was hope for you yet.  

You realized Happy’s hand was no longer on you as the elevator doors opened.  You had to pass the next test on your own merits.  And the Alphas would get uncomfortable if they saw the Beta touching you, even so innocently and expectedly.  It was safer to stay on the Alphas’ good sides.

The doors opened to a giant living room with a huge TV, a bunch of comfortable furniture, video game systems, giant windows, and coffee and end tables.  It had that too-clean look of someone who had cleaned for company.  You expect that it didn’t look this spotless most of the time.  You could see a dining room with a large table and chairs past the living room and a kitchen.  

You took a deep breath when you entered, evaluating your surroundings.  It felt like home.  It smelled like home, like pack, like belonging.  You caught the different scents of the residents, both physical and psychic and got the taste and feel of them as you took in the feel of the place where you would be living and working.

A figure stepped out of the kitchen, bringing two glasses of ice water with him.  He was extremely familiar from all of the media about him and you had no issues recognizing him.  Captain Steve Rogers.  He set the water glasses on one of the coffee tables before he made his way over to you.  You noted instantly that he was an Alpha.  Even if you hadn’t already known it, you could tell from his scent, from the way he held himself.  His very presence exuded competence and authority.  

He was being cautious and gentle toward you, though, as was expected when meeting an unfamiliar Omega.  You gave him a warm, reassuring smile as he approached.  

“Captain, this is Omega Y/N, here for her interview,” Happy explained from behind you, watching as Captain Rogers evaluated you from your scent and demeanor.    

Captain Rogers nodded and you felt Happy relax.  You’d passed the first hurdle with Captain Rogers.  Your presence hadn’t upset him enough to attack.  It was a very rare occurrence, but it did sometimes happen that an Omega was so incompatible with someone that their very presence provoked an attack.  Happy didn’t have to try to protect you from this Alpha.  “Thanks, Happy.  I’ll let you know when the interview is over,” with that dismissal, Happy left you in safe, capable hands.  

Captain Rogers turned his attention to you properly once Happy was gone.  Something about him seemed to change, to relax in your presence.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Omega,” he greeted you politely.  

“It’s an honor to meet you, Captain Rogers,” you replied, just as politely and held your hand out to him to shake.  He took your small hand in his huge warm one and shook it. His smile grew.  He clearly liked what he felt about your presence.  

“I thought it best that we have a conversation before I introduce you to the rest of the team,” he explained when he let go of your hand again.  You could feel the reluctance to let go of you.  That was normal too.  Alphas liked doting on Omegas and there weren’t many in the tower.  So Captain Rogers probably wasn’t getting to indulge in those instincts properly.  

You nodded again.  “I appreciate the consideration,” you replied, knowing this was another test.  If you couldn’t handle arguably the most palatable of the Alphas on the team, there was no way you’d be able to fit in here.

Little did Captain Rogers know, you were perfectly comfortable.  This tower, strange and amazing as it was, felt like home.  You belonged here.  You just needed to prove that to him and the others on the team.  

[queersatanic]

the devil runs Black & Red

The Philosophy of Defiance

or, A Pardon for Cain (1854)

by Félix Pignal

… Give me any epithets you wish; I accept them all in advance. I have only one thought, and envision only one glory: it is to strike everywhere and always, as much as I can, at the principle of domination. Satan, in his revolt, is my father, and, in his courage, Cain is my brother!

… We do not take a single step in society without hearing that human beings must believe in a God, in a sovereign being, master of all things, according to whose absolute will everything occurs, whether for good or ill.

Well, I claim bluntly that this doctrine is the source of all our miseries and that those—too numerous, alas!—who maintain it, as much by cunning as through ignorance or fanaticism, constantly dig beneath our feet the abyss which must swallow us.

… Some mistreat others,—that is beyond doubt,—and in order to safeguard ourselves against rebellion, we have invented the belief in God.

I will go further, and say that in order to believe in a supreme being, the mistreated have no need of teaching; from that side, the movement of the soul is inevitable.

Yes, it is when we are, so to speak, abandoned by everyone, that our minds seek the support of an unknown being; and so long as he remains a brother to us, a friend, it is from him that we await the consolations that our sufferings demand…

… A tooth for a tooth! The law of the jungle. Such is the combat that we must still make against the divinity… First, why do we tremble at this audacity? Isn’t humanity, under the weight of its sorrows, at bay, at the last extremities? So it no longer has anything to lose… Courage in the attack! Courage! Our servility offers us a glorious pretext which would, by itself, justify our rebellion. And since we honor a people when they know how to overthrow a tyrant, what would be the grandeur of our triumph, if we succeeded in destroying the principle of tyranny!

There is a fact, and it is that tyranny is an evil more violent than all the evils which could result from our independence. That is why each of us should seek to belong to ourselves, in order that human tribulations (if we must still have them) might not be the result of a shameful mistake, and that the vicious should always be disgraceful in our eyes, for God is an imaginary torch, so fatal to humanity that he guides it in paths contrary to its happiness and renders society guilty before the criminal that it punishes!

With God, man is given the odious chore of torturing his fellows and the victims the shame of patiently bearing the oppression!

Thus marches society, loaded down with the chains that it imposes on itself! Ashamed of the blood that covers it! Without respect for its own tears, and stuffed full with a crime which will choke it, if a plerosis does not save it from its last bout…

… But the only God which it seems tolerable for me to avow, assuming that name should not disappear from every language, has no absolute will over us: it is the intellectual fluid, having the universe for reservoir, which is refined in the springs of our imagination, more mysteriously still than the nutritious juices of the earth being distributed to the roots of the plants that absorb them. This fluid gives some abilities which are ruled by no other laws than those that we impose on them…

… Still, we dare to give him (God) the name of Almighty Father! A thing which undoubtedly imposes on us the title of Brothers… Truly, wouldn’t it make you shudder with horror if you knew some less powerful father who would allow his own children to tear each other to pieces, before his very eyes! It is barbarians who have created this vampire in their image!…

How could we believe in liberty if the mind warps itself so easily in favor of dependency? As long as the mind will bear any subordination, the body must endure servitude. This is a deadly, but inevitable, consequence of every belief in God.

Thus, let us first teach the children their duties with regard to their fellows, instead of accustoming their imaginations to the mysteries, and later, if they want, they can discuss eternal visions. There will then be many fewer head cases and more honest folk in society…

… The tears, the moans—and the arms—of those who suffer, have still not been able to change anything about their appalling condition…

What good is it to revolt today, if tomorrow you reestablish or allow to be reestablished the colossus which crushes you; if tomorrow, in other forms, you reconstruct the teeth that bite you, the jaw that crushes you, the throat that swallows you, and the stomach which digests you; if tomorrow, in short, the authority that you have overthrown, is reborn fresh and even stronger, and consequently more violent and more redoubtable? What good is that? Tell me.

For a number of years, the democracy was astonished to see its soldiers so scattered and discordant; but I say that nothing is less astonishing. The division of interests divides the interested parties… Let us console ourselves, however, for despite everything nature is emerging and the democracy, refining itself, is inclined to follow nature’s laws. So there is no longer but one cry: the call for independence…

… Property, such as it exists today, is the fruit of a law upheld by some skilled sorts who want to live at the expense of those that they dominate. Like all human laws, it is unjust and murderous, not really creating happiness for anyone, not even those that it protects… Understood as it is presently, property is the source of all evils!…

… It is not, however, property alone that stems from the meanness, the cruelty, the vengeance, and the laziness of which so many of our fellows are accused!

Misfortune makes us mean, the lack of everything makes us thieving and disheartened, and a false principle warps humans to the point of not loving their fellows, of being harmful rather than devoted to them.

To maintain this principle and perpetuate its crime, we feign to guarantee the public repose by increasing the number of police, by building new prisons, by doubling or tripling the wages of those who forge the chains or fasten them to the feet of the exploited poor. Ah! If instead of exhausting us, misfortune gave us intelligence, we would see something else entirely, despite the multiplication of the police!…

… If there is, in this world, some real power, it is indeed the reign of tyranny, that colossus with numberless claws, which constantly tears at all the peoples whose palpitating breasts call for liberty.

Certainly, we can find nothing more deplorable than the evils that overflow the earth because of this murderous principle. The kings, who should be for us only free conventions, which we should change as the future brings us new ideas, because often the next day we do not know how to content ourselves with what made us happy the day before, are for most of us heavy chains that hold us riveted to misfortune, while the traitors who attach themselves to us wander at their ease the fields of our prosperity!…

Labor, which should be for individuals only a subject for leisure has become mind-numbing under this insufferable and bloodthirsty empire, because many are required to give of themselves beyond their strength to feed their own executioners!…

… What!… There is not a single place on earth which is not stained with the crime of slavery and oppression. Not a city which has not resounded, as many times as there are grains of sand in its walls, with the cries of the ill-fated and despairing! Could the inner man, whose nature a false principle has still not been able to change, reflect on his unfortunate fellows without a secret power awakening in him, to sleep again only when it has found the salutary concoction with which the poor are spoiled?… The poor are thirsty, and the only drink they demand… is liberty! But an absolute liberty, a liberty without intermediary, a liberty with no other laws than those which germinate in the people. Finally that liberty which is born from independence, and which could only be hostile to those who oversee the workers in order live on their sweat and blood!!

Now, in order to enjoy that liberty, it is necessary to prevent tyranny, and as we have already said: The king is certainly not the only tyrant in a kingdom.

A king is only the summit of a governmental pyramid, the base of which is calculated to maintain it.

As long as that base is not broken up, it would be useless to sacrifice ourselves to knock down its peak in order to acquire liberty…

… To cut off the head of a king, but allow the principle which requires him to remain, a principle which demands that so many other kinglets fatten themselves at the expense of the proletariat, is just like trying to stop the current in a rapidly flowing river with a saber blow!… Laugh in the faces of the idiots and schemers who, on the basis of similar stupidities, will cry out to you: To arms!… I have said, or have meant, that to obtain true liberty we must wait for the governmental pyramid to be broken apart, by itself even!… I stand by it…

Far from encouraging that bloodthirsty, liberticidal intoxication, I would always strive for silence, so as not to have to bemoan the atrocities of a revolution of barbarians or to water with our tears the places stained with the blood of those who could have become our friends

Let us suppose that a government is broken up. It is then that we must show the courage and resolution to prevent its reconstitution in any other form. For, in order to exist, power must be homicidal, murder being the daily fruit of its instinct for preservation.

For independence, and for her daughter liberty, we will sacrifice ourselves! To arms, to arms!! But for our fellows, the seditious have only silence… For, far from freeing the world from the claws which clasp it, we will only enslave it more…

Truly, we could only laugh at a republican who wanted, at all costs, to change one government in order to reestablish another! What then does this madman—this troublemaker—want? Some trouble and disorder, fifty savages in exchange for one barbarian. One hundred deputies for a prince. Finally a thousand cankers for an ulcer. Is it really worth the fuss for such horrors!!

No, no, I will never be republican to the point of swapping the ugly for the dreadful. And I will not even trouble myself to see if the barricades in the street are deserted or occupied, as long as people are not disposed to discuss at least these four points.

The earth, being rightly regarded as the principal part of our inheritance, is inalienable in any form and transaction;

All uncultivated earth returns to the public domain to be distributed as an immoveable instrument of labor;

The products of labor alone are considered as trafficable, individual properties;

All domestic service is regarded as degrading and whoever serves a master will no longer be a citizen…

… I reflect in passing, that some are capable of believing that I would diminish the number of revolutionaries!!… If I should diminish anything, it would only be, in any case, the number of those who call themselves republicans and who, most often, are only a bunch of brutes who will cut the throats of the so-called reds and whites, because they are of another color.

So much the better. Then we would know, and if the war between us is a war to the death, we will at least have the advantage of knowing why. While today, you hardly dare to approach in broad daylight certain individuals who cry to you in an insolent voice: Long live the republic!… Well, whoever wishes life for any government, also supports a coterie existing at the expense of those whom it governs. Whoever says: Long live absolutism! says long live lies. Whoever says: Long live a governmental republic! says long live hypocrisy! But those who say: Down with all governments!! says down with murder! Long live independence! Long live truth!…

Let the liberals, the radicals, and the bourgeois republicans choose. And if they want to continue to exploit the miserable workers, let them say: Long live absolutism!…

The earth is the mother of everyone. Each has a right to the land, as they have a right to the rays of the sun which warms us, and should not command it any more than they would the air of which they breathe a portion to invigorate their blood.

Now, if the earth is subject today to the laws of commerce, like an ordinary bit of merchandise or any product, it is a crime against humanity which affects the majority of us, and which has become the source of all our evils and which puts humans below the savage beasts, which despite their fierce spirit only appropriate that which conforms to the needs of their nature

Thus there are two very distinct camps among us: that of the governors and that of the governed, and there are also only two principles: that of lies and that of truth…

… The governments tremble, so rejoice (worker!); they totter, so hold yourself in readiness; they fall, so attack! But among their ruins, soaked with the blood of your fathers, never let the audacious dare to cry: Long live the power!… or crack their skulls, for power is authority, and authority is tyranny. With the last… there is not liberty, there is only some monstrous hybrid, which everyone must hound as they would a beast suspected of rabies.

Down with governments, down with tyranny, and long live independence! Long live love and friendship.

… No more governments, and no more taxes. No more cutthroats, and no more blood. No more greed, and no more hate. The future is for all. And it is thus that you will love yourselves in your brothers.

Establish yourselves in revolutionary communes; even in the smallest places always cry: Down with the governments! Let each of you participate in the discussions in their town, in order to debate their interests.

As your well-being will depend on the same cause, you will never have a guide except the same reason, the same spirit. It is thus that intelligence will really prevail…

Don’t concern yourself with the lazy: there will be none, for individuals who work freely for themselves need work as much as recreation and could not do without it without suffering.

That seems bizarre, doesn’t it? There are so many today who are lazy and live splendidly.

With regard to the majority of those, I do no know what to tell you, except that since you have tolerated them thus far, we have to feed them: habit is a second nature.

Besides, they will disappear like the old soldiers of the Empire.

The principle which must, by its own power, bring into communion the interests of all its members, will promote industry as much as agriculture; consequently, your moral and material necessity will be to establish a balance between the agricultural products and those of industry. And being dependent only on your needs, that equilibrium can never been upset enough for the products of each of you to stop flowing, always with the same regularity.

Thus, nothing can prevent or constrain any longer the free exchange of your products, and as it is these alone which can satisfy the void of your needs, each will trade at will. Then, the beautiful, the solid and the convenient still being capable of an incontestable perfectibility, an eternal competition will establish the price, stimulated by that progressive perfection whose limit is found in the fictions of eternity, if it is to be found at all.

Some communal bazaars will be established in each locality, and the products which are lacking will very quickly give some advantages to those who can fill this void, in order that each commune or hamlet will soon have its necessities within reach. The fruits of the labor of the producers will fall directly to the consumers, without any increase of price above their real value, except for the costs that the staffing of the bazaars to which these products will be entrusted will entail.

However, no one will be required to stock their products at the communal fairs, so that they still remain free to negotiate directly with other producers or consumers, if they judge it proper…

There will always be individuals of superior talent. And for this reason, individuality could not be merged, without suffering subjection, into a collective liberty. Besides, whoever says individual liberty, says it all; for a collective liberty can only be created under the will of several individuals.

Thus let those who judge it appropriate unite in life, duties and labor. And let those whom the least subjection would offend remain individually independent.

The true principle is thus very far from requiring inviolable community. However, for the harmony of certain labors, it is obvious that many of the producers will establish themselves in societies, for the advantages that they will find in the union of their strengths. But once more, communism will never be a fundamental principle, because of the diversity of our intelligences, needs and wills.

Thus, excluding the jobs of judge, priest, policeman, thief and torturer, our new society will offer to each of its members the means to live in a perfect ease, no longer wearying themselves for vain glories and sordid lusts.

In each community, they will establish some institutions for the young…

Scholars will never have been more sought after… Science will be an instrument of busy labor for those who feel themselves capable of working one of the fields of its domain… And each individual, being occupied with the work they prefer, will put into that work as much art, skill and intelligence as a great writer will use to describe some story. An individual who is in their true society, works with taste and pleasure, with no hostility towards anyone.

Thus, all your days will pass in prosperity and joy.

… The earth will be the homeland of everyone, and each will be able to contemplate its riches.

All people will love one another…

Oh, independence! Protector of humanity, inexhaustible source of happiness and satisfaction, seep into the hearts of the people, disabuse their minds of the artifices which delude and incite them, unblind their eyes, oh goddess! so that they can see your radiant halo, whose pure light weakens the monsters like the daylight wearies the owl! Mother of all pure liberties, let your name be sung, and let your name be blessed! Long live independence! War to authority!

[eak8753]

Marrying A Demon

He wasn’t a fan of this arrangement, not at all. Sure he understood that it was necessary for the league’s survival and he was of age. Still never in Damian Al Guhl’s 19 years of life had he ever suspected that his wife would be a demon. It had been engraved into him that he would marry whoever his mother and grandfather found fit. Still, he never thought that they would find a demon fit. He was to marry an ally of the leagues, the daughter of the demon who had gifted them the Lazarus pit.

Trigon The Terrible was a name that struck fear into everyone who heard it, it was said that he had crimson red skin, four amber coloured eyes, snowy white hair, and horns like antlers coming out of his head. He didn’t doubt that his offspring, the Gem of Skath and his future wife, looked similar, although admittedly he had never seen her.

Of course, he wished he was aware of his marriage between this demon sooner. He had found out today after he had come back from his daily mountain climbing -that of which he climbs a whole mountain- exercise. 

he walked into the summoning room, an intricate pattern on the floor, protected by a ring of salt. There were candles a good three inches away from the salt and his grandfather had instructed everyone to keep their weapons off of their personals. They couldn’t risk the demon catching sight of any sharp object. The only blade allowed was a small dagger Damian had hidden in case they needed protection.

Summoning the demon was easier then he had initially expected. His mother had done the honours, reciting the passage given to them by a servant of Trigon’s; he was the only connection they had to the demon king, never speaking to him directly before. “De voca Gem of Skath” Talia spoke, dropping a thick crimson liquid into the circle. They felt a rush of wind, blowing out all the flames from the candles. Immediately after the ring of salt set to fire, as a form rose in the middle of the circle. As the form fully emerged the flames died down and the candles became lit once again, one by one. As the dark form was finally illuminated, Damian took a moment to take in her appearance. 

He wasn’t wrong, she looked similar to the way Trigon was described to be. Her skin the colour of blood and her four demonic eyes shined dangerously in the warm light. Her vanilla coloured hair was cut in a slight bob. She had on a raven coloured mini dress underneath a black cloak. She looked to be a year or two older than him, then again she could be hundreds of years old and they wouldn’t know. Everything about her screamed wicked and she radiated power. Maybe this creature wouldn’t be so bad of a wife, Damian thought. But he had to be cautious, she was unpredictable and he needed to make sure she wasn’t a threat. Of course, there wasn’t much she could do inside the ring. Looking around the room her eyes landed on Ra’s, cocking an eyebrow at him, she crossed her arms, an amused smirk on her face. 

“My name is Ra's Al Ghul, your father has given me your hand in marriage” his grandfather spoke, with his chin held up high. The form looked him over for a moment. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old, don’t you think,” she said, checking her nails. Her voice was gravely and slightly demonic, not necessarily evil like the demon servant who was their only connection to Trigon. 

Damian had to restrain from doing this creature any harm. Who did she think she was? Disrespecting the Demons Head. From the corner of his eye, he could see the anger rising in his mother, but she managed to control herself down a bit. 

“I am not your suitor, demon” he heard his grandfather’s voice. “My grandson, Damian Al Ghul, will be your husband Gem of Skath” “Raven” the women in the ring corrected. “My name is Raven” she repeated, her voice gruff. “Very well then, Raven, you will reside in these walls, you two shall be wed within a few weeks time” he stated. 

Her eyes ran over Damian's form, taking in every little detail about him, analyzing him. She had to be careful to not give herself away. Feeling his anger and resentment towards her she guessed that he wasn’t too thrilled about the wedding, then again, neither was she. Her father hadn’t even told her about the marriage, instead, he called her into the throne room where he sat all day, where she was then summoned to earth by these feeble humans. Raven never understood why such a powerless creature thought they could give her an order, or keep her locked up. But she would let them indulge just a bit longer, they should have known by now not to play with fire, it wasn’t her fault. 

“Just to be clear, you two-“ she pointed to Ra’s and Talia “-want me to marry him,” she said, looking towards Damian. He was handsome, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but he was cocky. He was raised to feel superior to everyone else, just the way her father had tried to raise her. His looks did not matter if his character was corrupted. As she concentrated more on him she realized that although he felt superior to her, he had the ability to change. And that in itself could lead him a long way if he wished. But she was not here to fix him, he would have to make that change himself, it wasn’t her responsibility nor problem. 

“That's correct, my son is to become the next Demon Head, a year after your marriage he will take the crown and become the new Ra’s Al Ghul” the dark-haired women responded. “The Demon Head...you’re the mortals Mnemoth keeps wasting his time with,” she said with a small laugh at the end, like someone spending time with them was ridiculous. 

“Make no mistake demon, we don’t need you, we need an heir,” his mother said the word demon as if it was a curse. “And who better than a descendent of Trigon?” The white-haired girl filled in the blank. 

She folded her arms and rolled her eyes, leaning towards her left, the smirk still on her face but less amused and more annoyed. “You’re fools” she whispered, not looking at any of them. “Say that again, I dare you,” Damian told her in a controlled voice, he knew his grandfather would be proud of his restraint. “So you can talk, I thought you were a mute since you had your mommy and grandaddy doing all the talking for you” she looked towards him, her head cocked and her mouth in a frown as if she was trying to figure out a complicated equation. 

“You are a fool,” she said slowly as if speaking with a child. 

He couldn’t stand the disrespect anymore, he reached a hand out and grabbed her around the neck, lifting her a few feet in the air. She looked at him with dead, cold eyes. “You think my father plays nice,” she said, her voice unaffected. The momentary shock of her voice and the words she spoke made him loosen his grip on her neck, letting her slip-free. 

“My father wouldn’t give up his ‘prized gem’ to mere mortals just because they asked nicely. You’re being played, Trigon has a deeper motive here. One that we don’t know” her voice had gone quiet on the last sentence, and for all the power she radiated he couldn’t help but think of her as fragile. 

That was a dangerous thought, she wasn’t fragile, she was a demon - a monster. “What do you mean by a deeper motive?” his grandfather questioned. “It’s none of your concern” the red skin girl responded, his mother was about to scold the girl for her lack of manners when she spoke again.

“I understand why he chose you three to carry out whatever he has planned, you certainly know how to handle your demons” her eyes scanned the bare walls, falling onto Damian emerald ones. “No weapons in my line of sight, a ring of salt, and is that holy water?” She gestured to a vase filled with water. His grandfather nodded, and the girl grinned as if she was impressed. “You guys definitely know how to handle your demons, you did the whole shebang. You just forgot one thing.” At Talia's raised brow Raven grin turned wicked. 

White locks became a violet, her red skin turned a pale porcelain, and her four demonic eyes turned into two and took on a deep amethyst colour. He hated to admit it, but she was pretty. more than pretty, she was downright beautiful. “I’m half-human” Raven whispered, stepping out of the ring. 

The three of them paralyzed by the shock of this revelation were too slow to react as she disappeared before their eyes. She was gone, could have been anywhere on earth, but they would find her - he would find her, he had too. He didn’t realize -because of the different skin tone and hair, plus she had an extra set of eyes- but she was the thing that plagued his mind. 

The entity that wouldn’t let him sleep at night, she was her. The one person who made him feel human, the person he had fallen in love with in his previous life. The life where he had a father and brothers, where he had friends and where he had met her. His life, until it had been violently ripped from him after an apocalypse run by a merciless tyrant. And a speedster had to reset time.

They had found each other again, just as they promised. But she left, ran away. Fine, if that was how she wanted to play it so be it. He would chase after her to the ends of the universe if it meant he got a chance, a real chance, to be with her again.

---

A/N: Guess who finally got a charger? This had been in the works for awhile and I kind of forgot about it. I didn’t have any idea how I was gonna end it, but I think I did okay. Also Raven having red skin and white hair is a head canon I have for when she goes full on demon. Anyways, enjoy :)