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drwcn · 4 years ago

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concubine/sleeper agent!wwx and prince!lwj bullshit continues:

[story board 1] - The two empires and the Imperial Lan Family [story board 2] - WWX, Qishan Wen’s sleeper agent [story board 3] - The inner court (harem) of Hanguang Manor, prior to WWX

→ [Story Board 4] - “A-Xian”, the attendant of Jiang Yanli

Wei Wuxian lived with the Jiangs for 2 years. After he came to Gusu as a 16-yro, he charmed/scammed his way into the Jiang manor, won the favour of Jiang Fengmian, the affection of Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng, and waited. For a long time, no further instructions were given to him from Wen Ruohan. Then, one day, he saw Zhao Zhuliu on the streets of the Capital. Zhao Zhuliu was the head of Wen Ruohan’s intelligence bureau and incidentally, was also Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang’s shifu.

— “Shifu, does bixia finally have an assignment for me?” — “He does. Jiang Yanli is set to marry Lan Wangji. You are to find a way to accompany her to Hanguang-fu and get close to him.” — “Close to him as in...?” — “Any means necessary. He has a harem already, so you will not be the only one vying for his attention. Do think you can handle it?” — “Well I don’t know, shifu,” responded WWX coyly. “ Word on the street is that this Hanguang-wang prefers pretty men. His ce-wangfu Jin Ziyan is famous for his handsomeness, and that mianshou Mo Xuanyu he keeps around is a looker too. Do you think I’ve grown pretty enough?” — “You seem very aware of his household, I’m surprised.” — “Bixia sent me here to observe and learn; I’ve not been idle.”

Wei Wuxian knew Jiang Yanli was set to marry Lan Wangji before she even knew herself. This was not a coincidence. Originally, three years ago, when Lan Wangji was first choosing members of his harem, Jiang Yanli had been considered, but at the time Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan were already engaged to be wed. Jin Zixuan had promised Jiang Yanli that as soon as he passed the imperial scholarly exam and secured a position for himself in His Majesty’s court based on his own merit and not on the influence of his father Jin-guogong (Duke Jin), that he and Yanli would marry. It was a marriage that his late mother had arranged with her best friend Yu Ziyuan, and both Yanli and Zixuan were amenable to it. However, when Jin Zixuan finally passed the exam and ranked 6th in the national polling, he chose to take a position far away from the capital and left without a word of affirmation regarding the engagement. The position was an important one given to Jin Zixuan by Emperor Lan Xichen himself and so in some ways, it was understandable that he could not refused. After Jin Zixuan left the capital, Jin Guangshan went to his “old friend” Jiang Fengmian and “apologized” profusely on his son’s behalf, spewing all sorts of words about how a young man ought to make his way in this world and such. However, this left the Jiangs in an awkward position. Jiang Yanli was 21 yrs old, already older than any unwed noble lady should be. The Jiangs were angry with this outcome, but given the politics of it, they could not say much...and that was when Lianfang-jun Meng Yao revisited an idea that had been put aside three years ago. — “Hanguang-wang...desires to marry A-Li?” Jiang Fengmian was somewhat flabbergasted. “But...” — Meng Yao smiled, “Jiang-houye*, three years ago I came on behalf of er-di to broker a marriage between our two families, but you and Yu-furen both refused on account of her engagement with Jin-xiao-gongye. But I must say ling’ai* is a fine young woman, eloquent and mild-mannered and would make a fine wangfei* some day.” — “Wangfei? but -” — “Yes, Hanguang-wang did say he would choose his own princess or prince consort, but as you can see, even with Jin Ziyan as he ce-wangfu, Qin-fu’ren and Luo-fu’ren at his side, our prince has not shown any desire for any of them to be his legal spouse. He is still waiting, searching, and who’s to say Jiang-gu’niang is not equal if not better than the lot of them?”

What the Jiangs didn’t know was that Jin Guangshan was a traitor and had already sold his loyalty to Wen Ruohan, who promised him to make him a fanwang* when Qishan eventually annexed Gusu. JGS was a mole inside Gusu’s government secretly helping to further Wen Ruohan’s agenda. Nevertheless, Wen Ruohan wanted Wei Wuxian to get close to Lan Wangji, because as helpful as Jin Guangshan was, he was never fully trusted by the royal family and did not know their inner workings. Breaking Jiang Yanli’s marriage with Jin Zixuan was just a matter of convenience. Jin Guangshan was not fussed regarding a simple marriage when the reward would be much greater. As per WRH’s instruction, he used his influences in court to maneuver Lan Xichen into giving Jin Zixuan a position far away from the capital, thus removing his son from the dangerous political atmosphere and freeing up Jiang Yanli as a potential concubine for Lan Wangji. Then, Jin Guangshan sat back and allowed Meng Yao to finish the game that he started. Meng Yao was not a willing participant. He loved Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue but Jin Guangshan held the secret to his past and thus a noose around his neck. Everyone in court knew that Lianfang-jun Meng Yao was once a lieutenant in Nie Mingjue’s army and later became his personal secretary. He was known for his wit and silver tongue and the charming dimples on his cheeks whenever he smiled. However, not many knew that Meng Yao was the bastard son of Jin Guangshan and a prostitute. Meng Shi’s hope was that one day her son would be legitimized by his father, but alas her hopes were in vain. A child born to a whore would be condemned to a live in the “jian” caste unless otherwise freed. It was Nie Mingjue who chose to raise Meng Yao above his station and respected him as a person for the first time in his life. When Nie Mingjue and his long-time sweetheart the crown prince Lan Xichen were set to marry, Meng Yao thought his days of freedom would be over. To his surprise, Nie Mingjue opted to bring him back with him from the borderlands where Nie Mingjue’s battalion was stationed and introduce him to court and to Lan Xichen. It seemed almost impossible that Lan Xichen would love him as unapologetically as Nie Mingjue, but somehow he did. Meng Yao became the only concubine person in Lan Xichen’s harem other than Fengjun Nie Mingjue. Life was perfect, so perfect in fact Meng Yao even entertained the idea of coaxing Lan Xichen to take on a lady or two to be his concubine so that the palace could be filled with little ones. Of course he’d be a little jealous...but they would have children...and Lan Xichen loved babies. Then of course, Jin Guangshan found out who he was, and from that point on, Meng Yao was no longer a free man. Every single moment of his life, his father threatened him with exposure. If anyone were to find out just how unseemly his origin had been, how not only was his mother a prostitute, but he himself had been nearly no different (given to the Nies as a gift by a stupid pandering official), his life would be over. At the very least Lan Xichen would be forced to banish him, at the worst, he’d be dead. Oh there would be no public announcement of course, but it would be said that he had taken ill and succumbed to his frail health, and with his death the smear on the Lan imperial family would be cleansed. Meng Yao didn’t want to die, so he did as Jin Guangshan asked, even when the ask became Nie Mingjue’s life. (But NMJ isn’t really dead...Meng Yao was nothing if not a fighter. He could not let the father who’d cursed him to a less than hellish existence take away from him the first man who’d ever shown him love and kindness.) — “Jiang Yanli must marry Lan Wangji.” Jin Guangshan instructed. “And you must ensure that when she does, the boy goes with her.” — “What boy?” — “The ward of Jiang Fengmian: Wei Wuxian.”

So when Meng Yao came to speak with Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, naturally he brought up the subject of Lan Wangji’s “preference.” “The Qin family did very well in this regard. They were quite clever in allowing Mo Xuanyu to serve Hanguang-wang; the boy is too low-born to be of any threat. Even if Hanguang-wang’s harem of today becomes the imperial harem of tomorrow, Mo Xuanyu would not be more than a mianshou. His success, on the other hand, would ensure that Hanguang-wang’s favour stay with the Qin family. As we can see, their effort was not in vain. Qin Su became with child rather swiftly. Little Kaisong was born more no later than three months after Jingyi.” Meng Yao explained the delicate nature of the situation to the Jiangs. “If Jiang-guniang is to marry Hanguang-wang, forgive me for my boldness, but she would be wise to bring a male attendant of her own. Wangji is kind and would honour her as his concubine, but the man cannot control his inclinations, as none of us could.” Yu Ziyuan exchanged a look with Jiang Fengmian. Yanli was older now; waiting for Jin Zixuan to keep his promise had delayed her and possibly ruined her prospects. If this marriage to Lan Wangji were to succeed... he is an honourable man who treated all his concubines equally and with respect. If he grew to like Yanli enough to make her his legal spouse as Meng Yao seemed to think is possible...then one day she would be Empress. — “Hanguang-wang’s preference is men. Would he not prefer to have a wangfu instead of a wangfei?” Jiang Fengmian was still hesitant. — “Indeed I’m sure he would, but politics being what it is...” Meng Yao sighed. “I’m sure Wangji understands that having the mother of his heir be his wangfei and his future empress is the best course of action to ensure the stability of the nation. We certainly have no shortage of examples to learn from in history: a shuchu prince with competing shuchu brothers walks a perilous road.” — “Lianfang-jun is wise.” Yu Ziyuan nudged her husband. “Which young man do you suggest we include in the bridal party?” — “That I have not decided, which is why I’ve come to see you today. Jiang-fu is a large manor, surely there must be some servants worthy to catch the eye of our Hanguang-wang. Yu-fu’ren, why don’t you assemble them, and we can have a pick?” — “Lianfang-jun, that is a delightful idea.”

Wei Wuxian was not surprised at all when all the young men of Jiang-fu under 21 and above 16 were assembled in a courtyard. He scanned the crowd; there were about 20-ish of them. One by one, they were beckoned forward, and when it was his turn, he walked with his head bowed towards the man sitting under the eave on a luxurious wicker chair, holding a fan. The fan was very expensive, drawn by an artist in the previous dynasty. An antique. This must be Zewu-di’s* only concubine, Meng Yao. — “Greetings to Lianfang-jun.” — “Raise your head, boy, let me take a good look at you.” — Wei Wuxian obeyed. Meng Yao looked him over once, appraising and evaluating, before making a pleased little noise. “Hm. Your name?” — “Wei Wuxian.” — “Wei...Wuxian?” Meng Yao gave a pretty laugh. “A rather boastful name for so young a person. My, but you are a lovely thing. Tell me, what is your age?” — “Eighteen.” — “Eighteen, excellent. It’s unfortunate that your name isn’t something a little more humble. What does your family call you?” — “My family calls me A-Xian, dianxia.” — “Well A-Xian, if I were to tell you that you’ve been chosen to accompany Jiang-gu’niang to serve Hanguang-wang, what say you?” — WWX thought *I’d say Lan Wangji better sleep with one eye open*, but said with a gracious and deferring bow of his head, “That would be my honour.”

[next]

Note:

houye - marquess ling’ai - a formal way to address someone else’s daughter wangfei - princess consort fanwang - a type of high-ranking prince with their own region/land to govern and possibly even their own army to command under imperial rule. Zewu-di - emperor zewu.

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #concubine!wwx #assassin!wwx #prince!lwji #cql ficlet #corie fics #without envy

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jadelotusflower · 3 years ago

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It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014. But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen? Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak). And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination. How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

#star wars #star wars meta #heir to the jedi #nakari kelen #luke skywalker #fridging #it's cold in that fridge #star wars expanded universe #nucanon

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jaskiersvalley · 5 years ago

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just read thru ur whole blog instead of finishing my midterm that i forgot about that was actually due on march 17 and can i just say thank u i don't think i've ever enjoyed hours of procrastination this much 💕💕 (also rip in absolute pieces to the fact i actually have to work on my midterm now)

*Looks at calendar* Well, it only took me a month and a half to get to your ask. I do hope your midterm went okay and you managed to get it finished! While I’m super flattered that your procrastination involved my writing, I’m also feeling a little guilty for distracting you. In honour of the time lost and as thanks for your lovely ask, please have some time related angsty shenanigans.

CW for injury and character death (which is rectified through implication and screwing with time).

Time had a funny way of working. The war was in full swing, Jaskier traipsed after Eskel, writing songs about witchers and their deeds. But Nilfgaard had been gaining ground, there were whispers of a witcher with a child surprise that was taken from him. When winter came again, Jaskier couldn’t go to Oxenfurt, he’d been outed as a spy for the resistance and had a considerable bounty on his head. With nowhere else to go, Eskel offered him sanctuary at Kaer Morhen. He’d been there once or twice before, was familiar with Lambert and Vesemir. They often spoke of another, Geralt of Rivia. Sometimes they were fond, other times they cursed him.

This winter was different. A portal opened up one afternoon and a haggard looking witcher staggered through with a sorceress in tow. They snapped and snarled at each other, obviously tied by destiny against their will.

“Geralt,” Vesemir rose from his seat and looked over the two new arrivals. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Cirilla wants revenge.” Geralt coughed. “She thinks witchers stole her childhood. She wants to obliterate us all.”

There were murmurs from the others and they were all clamouring to get more information. In the end, they settled with some drinks so Geralt and Yennefer could explain. Jaskier listened raptly, sat next to Eskel and looking to him from time to time.

“Cirilla is hellbent on destroying and conquering. Nilfgaard had taken her from us.” Geralt looked utterly world weary. More so than a witcher usually did. Jaskier would know, he’d spent enough time with Eskel to pull him out from a mindset of exhausted self-loathing. It looked like Geralt could do with someone too.

“Yennefer and I were too busy arguing, at odds over where Cirilla would serve best. She wanted Aretuza, I thought Kaer Morhen. Anywhere but Nilfgaard would have been okay. But Cirilla had enough. After one too many arguments, she slipped away one night and went to Nilfgaard, probably to spite us. She now rules with an iron fist and has a thirst for vengeance.”

When Geralt broke off, Yennefer picked up, “There is no winning. She’s collected all manner of allies from rock trolls to dragons. The resistance is dying if not dead already.”

“So you came here to die?” Lambert spat, angry.

“We came here for help,” Geralt corrected sharply. “Yennefer and I weren’t enough. But we found a way that might change the future.”

“What could another witcher do that the White Wolf couldn’t?” Eskel asked.

“Nothing.” It was Yennefer who cut in. “But your bard might be what we need. At every key moment in time that Aretuza had been able to discern before it was obliterated, he was doing something significant. Not enough to change the tide of the war. We think that in a different timeline, where he is the court bard of Cintra, he will be able to influence Cirilla. I can create a time stone, he can pick a moment in time to jump back to and try and change this whole mess. The key objective is to ensure Cirilla likes witchers and sorceresses.”

If anybody had asked Jaskier, he would have called bullshit on the whole thing.

“We’ve seen how he worked wonders with witchers in the public, his songs about the Scarred Wolf and his deeds are sung across the Continent.” Yennefer finished. “I will make the stone and have it ready for tomorrow afternoon. So I will ask that we have a decent meal this evening as it shall be my last.”

Silence filled the room before Vesemir nodded. There was no other choice. Contracts were thin on the ground, people were turning against witchers once again and it seemed that Nilfgaard was coming to Kaer Morhen. That night, they ate and drank as much as they could, knowing that it would be their last.

Yennefer retired to a room. There was no fond farewell between her and Geralt but a slight grudging respect. That night, the witchers stayed up late, staring silently into the dying fire, making peace with their lot.

By morning, Nilfgaard was advancing on the keep, humans and monsters alike bore down the path.

“We’ll need to get Jaskier to the eastern clearing,” Geralt said. “Nothing else matters. Lambert, Eskel, you’ll take flank, Vesemir, you’re rear and I’ll take point. No matter what, we get the bard to the clearing with the stone.”

Everything was left behind in the keep, nothing to weigh them down, not like they were going to have anywhere to go from the clearing anyway. It was a dead end and no escape. In a way, it was brave of them to assume they would make it as far.

When Geralt left to retrieve the stone, he looked grim. It was in a bag, glowing red through the material.

“It’s all of Yennefer’s chaos and time granted to her. Don’t waste it.” Geralt shoved it at Jaskier. “We need to move out. Now.”

There was nothing left to do but go. As agreed, Jaskier was in the middle, hemmed in by four witchers. They started off at a light run, determined to get as much distance covered as possible before Nilfgaard caught up.

It started with small attacks. Forktails and dragons trying to pick them off. At least their swords and signs could fend against the worst, even if Lambert cursed at the burns that ended up covering his arms when caught by surprise from the side.

The creatures were gaining on them, while the witchers could pick up speed, Jaskier was a human and had much more severe limits. He panted and gasped even as Eskel tried to urge him on.

“Keep going we’re almo-” His words were cut off with a grunt as a leshen stepped out from the trees, caught him in his midriff and sent him crashing through the woods. Jaskier turned in time to watch a pack of werewolves jump at him, tearing him apart without mercy.

It was a lot harder to run when tears were blurring his eyes. Almost thirty years by Eskel’s side and this was the unfitting end. Jaskier wanted to stop and cry but Geralt was moving on while Lambert and Vesemir took posts just behind and to the side, completing a triangle.

The clearing wasn’t too far now, it couldn’t be. To Jaskier it had felt like they’d been running for hours. From ahead, there was the whistle of arrows and he ran harder. A thump from behind and Jaskier turned, letting out a strangled gasp.

“Don’t turn around. Keep going.” Lambert snarled as he took rear post, Vesemir lost behind them with arrows riddling his body.

Up ahead, Jaskier could see the clearing and he pushed harder, knowing that some kind of rune circle would help him with the time stone. Someone grabbed him from behind and all but threw him into the clearing. He landed with a pained cry and watched just in time for a dragon to snatch Lambert while another attacked Geralt.

“Jaskier!” Geralt yelled. He was on the ground, blood coating half his face, matting his hair. “The stone. You have to!”

With trembling hands, Jaskier pulled the stone out. He could see Lambert’s broken body not far from Geralt and he sobbed. All he had to do was think of Cintra and then he’d be pulled back in time to the point where he could fix things. Because this wasn’t the end he’d hoped for, neither for himself, nor his witchers. The whole continent was a ghastly, tyrannical place. Soon there wouldn’t be anywhere that was free of Nilfgaardian brutality and oppression.

“Please,” Geralt begged and Jaskier looked him in the eyes, watched as he lay there, not even trying to evade the soldier who raised his sword. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jaskier still heard the sound the blow made. He didn’t want this. Clutching at the time stone, he wished and wished hard.

The world shifted around him, years fell away, aches and pains along with old injuries disappeared. Jaskier opened his eyes mid song, in a tavern. He was eighteen again, a whole life ahead of him. It wasn’t Cintra, that was for sure. Some backwater settlement on the edge of the continent. Looking around while singing, he tried to figure out what he was doing in such a shithole. As he spun, he spotted a figure in the corner, alone and brooding. White hair, armour, nobody going near him. He’d recognise Geralt anywhere. Finishing his song and being pelted by bread, Jaskier took a breath. If this was his mission, he’d accept it. Eskel had been a wonderful travel companion but time obviously thought he was the wrong witcher if they wanted to survive Nilfgaard’s attempts. Jaskier took a deep breath, thinking “well then”, it was time to make things right.

#jaskier #geralt of rivia #eskel #yennefer of vengerberg #lambert #vesemir #time travel #tldr: alternate timeline means unhappy ending for all until jaskier goes back and fixes things #cw: character death

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baebeyza · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Ultra Magnus?

Thank you ~

Okay so my first experience with Ultra Magnus was in TFP and I cannot say I liked him much in that. I blame the fact that he wasn’t really given that much screentime and I just didn’t really care for his beef with Wheeljack and the one lesson they had with them all being family kinda feels flat to me because in this show they never actually felt like a family to me.

I didn’t dislike him by all means, but I couldnt really get behind his military personality. (Did fucking love his fight against Predaking with Wheeljack though, best fight in all of transformer media if you ask me!)

Next time I saw him was G1 and I really loved him here! He has this strict no-bullshit character like in TFP, but we see more of him through different character interactions. He could get really exasperated when dealing with Roddy, he had this sweet rivalry with Cyclonus and a good dynamic with Marissa and Daniel. And he was allowed to be fun, I liked that a lot :D

Next was Headmasters and the only thing I remember him doing is dying, so xD It was a nice episode though and you really feel for his death

In TFA he’s a bit of a mixed bag? I mean first he doesn’t appear much on screen anyway and when he does, he doesn’t really do that much. Like he doesn’t really do anything cool and exciting. I guess the best he does is giving Optimus his position as repair-bot leader. There really isn’t much to hold unto really.

And then there is RiD01 and mate, he’s just so different from what you’d expect Ultra Magnus to be and I friggin loved it! :D He is Optimus Prime’s twin here and he fucking hates Oppy, because he thinks that he should be the matrix holder.

Comes into the show beating the decepticons, beating the autobots, beating Optimus and once his arc is finished he just lurks around like the anti-hero he is :D (tbh he prolly stalks Sideburn because in the japanese version he really, really likes Sideburn xD)

Part of the reason why I love him despite being so different from how he’s usually portrayed is that he brings some much-needed excitment and drama into the show, as the only autobot who challenges Optimus in some way.

I find it really boring when Optimus or another autobot leader are always just respected and liked, that’s not interesting! I like it when they get challenged somehow or at least have different dynamics with the other autobots.

And Magnus in RiD01 delivers in making Optimus a more developed character while also being something fresh and new himself! Last but not least, Siege, and I gotta say, I loved him before the show even came out. Mostly because I saw the trailer and poster and thought “He’s so friggin pretty!” xD But I was also intrigued about what his story would be and I was not disappointed, I really loved his role in the show! Loved the dynamic and angst with Megatron, his personality, his loyalty and honour, wonderful man! <3 Hope he will still be important for Earthrise and Kingdom quq

So in general, he’s my favourite autobot and second character after Megatron ~

I love his most common portayal as a strict but caring, loyal and honourable autobot and the one time he’s not written like that didn’t bother me as I loved that as well!

When he is written well it’s as a foil to another character. In G1 he is a foil to Roddy and Cyclonus, in Headmasters to Sixshot, in RiD01 to Optimus, in TFP with Wheeljack and in Siege to Megatron. (doesnt really foil anyone in TFA tbh)

He’s a character type you pair with another to bring more out of both of them :>

#transformers #ultra magnus #tfa #wfc siege #tfp #g1 #headmasters #rid01 #thoughts on asks #asks #transformer posting #quetzalpapalotl

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darrowsrising · 4 years ago

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Come here to be a howler for a moment. The whole feminist anti Virginia thing is really pissing me off today. Please go off about our Queen. Favourite Mustang moments from both trilogies please

To be anti Virginia is feminist now? The guts some people have! Ew, if any anti who wank their ego by saying they're feminist sees this post please be good trash and take yourself out 🤮🤮🤮.

Virginia au Augustus is one of the most brilliantly written female characters of all time. Actually, I'll argue that Pierce Brown - yes, a white, straight, cis gender man - writes better female characters than some female authors that are in high demand currently. And he deserves no praise for it - every writer should be able to flesh out female characters.

Honestly, I am sick of radicalists who just want to be upset about something. Instead of playing offended, how about you go support N.K. Jemisin or other brilliant female authors, maybe you can learn a thing or two from her.

Getting back to the absolute queen, the absolute goddess that Virginia au Augustus is:

She was the only one at the Institute who understood Darrow's analogies - he accused her of caring about the victims only because they were Gold, if they were Red, she wouldn't blink. But she did blink. She was never confronted like this, though and that took her by surprise, but she is the only Gold at the Institute to admit to the wrongness of it all no matter the Color. I know the bar is low, but it is a glimpse into how Virginia actually is - in a Society that allowes Golds to be monsters led by greed.

She is the smartest person in the room, but she doesn't always win, which I love, because while she likes winning, she is not an 'at all costs' kind of person. She is an intelligent leader - House Minerva is the most organized and the most thriving House. It showed that she is a great leader, but not necessarily the best military strategist. But she was not mad at all when Darrow conquered her House. She actually tipped her hat to him so to speak.

She retreated to rethink her strategy, but what I think surprised her and made her stick around Darrow was that even though he wants to win at all costs, he wouldn't risk her and her safety. I think she saw a kindred spirit - whatever his reason are for winning, they are more than what Society wants to make of them.

Once Darrow sees her strategy, they both proceed to implementing it - she tried on her own and failed. That little hand analogy is more than the basis for the Reaper's Army - later we will see it's an analogy for the world they should build.

Virginia au Augustus has been raised in the gardens Augustus mansions on Mars by both Kavax and Niobe, but also by Nero. Darrow is right - she is an ocean - beautiful and bright and scary and mysterious as fuck. She was raised to win, to conqueror, to bring pride to the Augustus name. Her loyalties lay with her loved ones first and foremost, always did, always will. Darrow's year at the Institute was about 6 months and she humilliated her brother, betrayed him, discarded her ties to her House that have been there all her life for what she and Darrow built. Because for her, it was worth it.

Her stint in that room on Olympus - I see it now as an analogy for her life. She has been priviledged - born into the most powerful House on Mars, albeit a tad shorter than average, she is pure Gold, beautiful like you would expect from a Gold, obvioudly rich, given that daddy owns Mars, declared a genius at a young age and helped to nurture that through more than just books, experiences too. Yet she raged in that room, refused to be kept inside, tried to break her way out, even tried to jump out of the freaking floating castle. She refused to help her deranged brother, she refused to cooperate with the people Nero had under his thumb, even though she was only going to gain from them. She wants to use her privilege to make things better - now, we all know, and she comes to understand that too, that reforms are band aids on bullet wounds in the Society - but she is the only Gold up to do that.

She learns quite fast that you must break so you can rebuilt. Her statement in MS underlines once again that the peace she was trying to make with Octavia was a desperate move, an assurance plan, because she was losing and she knew what Octavia did to losers. With Darrow onsidered dead and Sevro ignoring her, she felt alone and connered.

Of course, she has her not so pretty sides. Her family doesn't deserve it at all, yet she would go to hell and back to protect them. Even use people for her own aims.

She always paced herself, always refused to give in to the sort of fear-inducing anger that Sevro and Darrow are famous for. But she is still very much a force to be reckoned with - she just has her way of doing things - like the Iron Circle - the biggest balls in the Solar System belong to Virginia the Lionheart.

The reason she paced herself is to make demokracy work - and demokracy needs validity - no matter jow hard things get she has been a constant, she walked that stiletto at all times and never faltered.

She loves so very much, it breaks her when she has to choose between her loved ones and her duty. By the way, the fact that she is not family, duty, honour (in that order) is AMAZING.

Her friendships in the series are great - from House Telemanus to Theodora, Holiday and Sevro.

The way she and Darrow love each other - even when they do not see eye to eye, they respect each other, protect each other, look out for each other. Pierce Brown has managed to make the most amazing love story - no possessive bullshit, no cringey sex scenes, just beautiful and intense love. They have passion and affection without being gross, they can do their work without getting distracted by the other, they are supportive of each other.

Let's talk the Iron Circle scene - she was devastated for failing to save her loved ones. Yet the fires in the shape of a slingBlade and the people's loud love for her - Virginia the Lionheart, Sovereign of the Solar Republic, Sovereign of Mars - she never felt that. She always led with her mind, she always did what was right, she never felt the heart of the people and always second guessed herself because of that. But they do love her, and she felt it. And she started to hear the people's heartbeat too. And that was amazing.

Virginia hates being vulnerable, yet she showed vulnerability to her loved ones. And her heart to heart with Victra? PERFECTION.

About her being trampled and stripped by the mob (she wasn't stripped naked, under her pants and tunic, she always wears underwear, duh), I understand a lot of butthurt haters wanked this as reason to hate Dark Age. Well, sorry, but not only it was meant to a punishment from Adrius for her betrayal in RR, but it wasn't treated differently from how Darrow was assaulted (omce in GS when he was bathing naked, once in DA when Atlas ordered death by gangr*pe). The writer isn't there to make you confortable, they are there to tell a story - you get butthurt easily, don't read Adult Sci-Fi

Virginia is amazing, I want to be her when I grow up 😍😭💖. This list is not exhaustive in the least, she is that amazing.

Howl on!

#red rising trilogy #iron gold trilogy #virginia au augustus #mustang #lionheart #sovereign of the solar republic

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being-worthy · 4 years ago

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The Last of Us Part II – Adding my two cents to the game

Just so we’re clear, let’s establish a few things first:

MAJOR TLOU II SPOILERS AHEAD!!

I also spoiled myself ahead because I needed to know what would happen to Joel and Ellie… and the ending as well.

I’ve played the first one. I liked how it ended and totally support the ending!

I haven’t played the 2nd part but I’m watching the playthrough on YouTube in small doses. My heart can’t take much of it at once lol (and being poor and paying of debt for a loved one is no fun because I don’t have much money to spend on myself).

Right now, I’m at the part where Joel goes with Ellie to the museum for her birthday – it’s so cute and fatherly and my heart can’t take how bittersweet this is …

The 2nd part was rushed and has some bugs that could’ve been avoided, whether you like it or not. That’s a fact and we’re here for the facts not the truth (if you want the truth join a philosophy course).

The parts with Abby are too long, more than what they should’ve been and her vengeance is 💩.

English is not being my first language but I do my best (that’s all I can do).

I’m listening to Bryan Adams and Richard Max while writing this because I’m still not over Joel…

You may voice your opinion but remember this is my space! Be respectful at all times and absolute no hate here!

The first part ended with Joel bringing an unconscious Ellie to the hospital where the last Fireflies are, she almost drowned and he had to perform CPR on her. He’s rendered unconscious too and wakes up on a hospital bed with Marlene and Ethan (the guy who hit Joel in the head with the butt of his rifle) in the room.

That’s when he starts asking where Ellie is and Marlene informs him that she’s not his problem anymore and being prepped for surgery. Here, we need to note the following things: Marlene had sworn to Ellie’s mother to protect and to keep her from harm’s way but TAKES the decision to practically sentence her to death and yeah, she gives a speech that it’s not easy for her either yada yada yada but it’s all bs. The reason why is because:

a) making a decision refers more to the process and is something that takes time, while taking a decision is the act of deciding something that happens in an instant. Ultimately, Marlene decides for HER!! What about ‘my body, my decision’? Or in this case ‘her body, her decision’? It doesn’t matter if it’s related to an abortion or having your skull opened, the same principle should be applied!

She even says to Joel ‘because this isn’t about me. Or even her. There is no other choice here’. – Firstly, there’s always another choice! Secondly, Joel replies to her saying ‘yeah, you keep telling yourself that bullshit’ and he’s right, it’s total and utter bullshit. Even later on, when he’s carrying Ellie into the parking lot (I believe it was a parking lot), he tells her ‘that ain’t for you to decide’. Again, he’s right. It isn’t Marlene’s decision nor his but Ellie is still unconscious, so what do you want to do? Let them butcher her open? He crossed with her through half the country and ended up caring profoundly for her – she became like a daughter to him. He doesn’t have an on and off switch to turn off his feelings towards Ellie. Moreover, do tell me, if you’d like a doctor or someone else TAKE such a decision for you, instead of waiting for you to wake up and then tell you about the procedure and what this will entail. I get freaking furious whenever someone takes a decision for me or without asking me first.

b) Neither she nor the doctor wait for Ellie to regain consciousness and since she’s unconscious, they see it as the perfect importunity to just go ahead and rummage in her brain to see if there’s something that could help them developing a vaccine or a cure.

c) That’s another thing. They had zero guarantees, not even a 0.1 percentage of probability that they’d find something – nothing, nada, zilch. Just a hunch and maybe in an apocalyptic world for some people this might be enough but then why not wait until she wakes up and tell her ‘we don’t know for sure if your immunity will help us finding a cure or a vaccine. So that’s why we need to open your skull and see what makes you immune which ultimately, will kill you’ (in some nicer words though lol). Because they know she might not fully agree with it and they give a sh*t about what she thinks/wants and have that narrow military/cult mindset of ‘a sacrifice for the greater good’ and/or wouldn’t care either way because she’s a kid. I’m no fan of sacrificing one or a dozen people to save billions. If we can’t save them all or at least try our damn hardest, then we’re doing something terribly wrong! Also, she’s a freaking kid!! She hasn’t seen much and has her whole life ahead, doesn’t matter if it’s in the apocalypse. The thought that they’re willing to sacrifice her, a kid, without batting an eye shows me that all Fireflies are terrorists.

d) Now to the doctor (the one with the scalpel) – according to the internet this guy was Abby’s father and his murder was why she tortured and slaughtered Joel. First things first, every doctor has to take on a Hippocratic oath. There are many different variations but they all come from an old one that states the following:

… I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly, I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness, I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favour of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

… If I fulfil this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honoured with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.

The doctor doesn’t keep her from harm or injustice, he isn’t even there for her well-being, only to see how her brain ticks. So, that immense violation of his oath doesn’t make him a doctor anymore but a BUTCHER and don’t come to me with ‘but it’s the apocalypse or it’s for the greater good blah blah blah’, then how better are we compared to rapists and people who murder out of fun? If we throw our principles out of the window just because it’s the apocalypse and/or it’s for the greater good, then with all due respect we all should just go ahead and jump from a building and burn in hell.

e) I got to the part where Joel and Ellie went to the museum for her birthday and at the end there’s a graffiti that says ‘liars’ with the fireflies’ symbol above. Even at the end, their own members saw that they Fireflies were only a bunch full of hot air and nothing else. They ended up being terrorists and forgot what they once stood and fought for.

So, taking all this into consideration - who wouldn’t have saved her? And yes, Joel saves her out of selfishness, so what? True, that he didn’t tell her the truth either, but can you resent him for this? He’d have to tell her that Marlene betrayed her, betrayed her trust and her mother’s trust in her and was willing to let her die and let her body being violated (rape is not the only way to violate someone’s body – FYI). This would have impacted Ellie’s state of mind too. She’d have ended up resenting Marlene and the Fireflies or worse. She had gone through so much already and didn’t need more on her plate. So, he spared her that betrayal and resentment.

Now let’s talk a bit more about Joel. Joel is no saint or hero but no villain either. He’s just a man who was willing to doom the whole already-damned world to protect the girl he adopted. He does what he needs in order to survive but within some reason and hasn’t lost his humanity (it’s just deeply hidden in him), he’s a person trying to survive. He tortures people - yes, but only to get information and makes sure to end them quickly afterwards. I agree that one of the main things you’ve to do during such times, is to adapt or you’ll die or worse. In the 1st part he’s rough, tough, strong, stubborn, resilient, experienced in the world he lives in and wary of strangers (just remember that scene on the highway with the stranger pretending to be hurt and Joel knew from the moment he saw him that it was a trap), someone you don’t want to mess with, etc. On the other hand, there’s this other side of him where he teaches Ellie to swim, tries to joke with her, to play the guitar, takes her to beautiful places, he takes her to a museum with dinosaurs and stuff from space, that proves he’s capable for carrying deeply for someone, in this case Ellie, and don’t get me started on the gift he gives her when they’re in the space capsule (!!), and so on. Ellie and Joel have this great dynamic. Then in the 2nd part, they made him to be so trustworthy toward a young unknown girl, tells her even their REAL names, like he literally says ‘my name’s Joel and that’s my brother Tommy. We live further down’. Dude, why don’t you just go walking around with a banner around your neck stating who you are to the whole freaking world. At some point he even said the name of their home (Jackson)!’ - WHAT THE HOLY F*CK?! He even offered her to go with them and take her to their home and give her supplies. Then, even BLINDLY and WITHOUT ANY WARINESS follows her to a place with an unknown sized group, where he and Tommy don’t know anyone - HOLY FREAKING HELL?! It’s not like it could be a trap, I mean it’s completely normal that there are many survivors camping up in the mountains in the middle of a snow blizzard, it’s the perfect season for doing that ¬¬. We’re living in times were everyone is kind to each other… I just don’t get it. This behaviour change is too radical and old habits die hard, especially ones acquired and used for decades!! That’s a big flaw from Naughty Dog regarding Joel. They portrayed him as someone stupid (sorry Joel but it’s true), sloppy, too soft, etc. He’s older and fatherlier with Ellie all fine and good, but he’d still be very cautious toward outsiders, particularly when they outnumber him!! It’s true that at some point we’ll have to be more trustworthy toward others in order to try and reestablish society or something close to it but you’d still be wary and wouldn’t take them right to your home first thing!! I had also into consideration that they were being chased by a horde of runners and clickers and their options where limited but still!

In some games the death of an important and primary character is sometimes essential. TLOU II is one of them because this was necessary for Ellie to grown and learn more about herself, the world she lives in, among others but Joel deserved way better than what he got! I feel for Tommy too, he didn’t deserve to split up with Maria or lose an eye but I believe the reason as to why he became obsessed with avenging Joel was because he already thinks he failed him in the past already, either when Sarah died, or when he joined the Fireflies and Joel wasn’t happy about it, or when they blindly trusted Abby and her friends.

Before I start with Abby, we need to establish something else first: revenge is about retaliation; justice is about restoring balance. The motive of revenge has mostly to do with expressing rage, hatred, or spite. It’s a protest or payback, and its foremost intent is to harm. And because it’s so impassioned, it’s typically disproportionate to the original injury—meaning that it usually can’t be viewed as just. The punishment may fit the crime, but it’s often an exaggerated response to another’s perceived offense. Nevertheless, I do believe that justice comes from vengeance but that type of justice only breeds more vengeance, and this is what Abby essentially does, avenge her father (even though I believe he lost his way and became unscrupulous) and ends up being capable to live with herself with little to no trouble after what she did to Joel, after repeatedly hitting him over and over and over again with a golf club, and forcing Ellie to watch the last bit. Abby and a bunch of others, who were also aware of her secretive plans, travel thousands of miles just to find Joel and brutalise him and massacre him. That scene was really brutal. But at some point both Abby and Ellie have to realise that vengeance is not the answer and if everyone keeps coming back seeking vengeance, then they’ll move around in a vicious circle until someone decides to forgive because killing like this not only hurts themselves, but also those they love and love them.

I don’t see the WLF as a whole as someone who deserves sympathy. They’re quite similar to the Fireflies who maybe at some point had noble goals (or almost) but ended up strayed from their path. They loot and kill everyone they see, no questions asked (much like the police these days in our world), even if they’re just passing by and aren’t affiliated to any group and just want to survive.

The ending of TLOU II couldn’t have been better. Ellie was happy with Dina and the baby but deep down she knew she didn’t close the chapter with Joel’s murder. Abby, and knew that at some point, she’d have to revisit that part to close it entirely. Her leaving with Tommy was the right decision, even if Dina wouldn’t/couldn’t fully understand why and I feel sad for Maria too but I strongly believe that she’ll return - whether or not Dina will wait for her is another story.

This is all I’ve to add. I’ve been sitting her for about 5+ hours writing this because I wanted to put my perspective of this masterpiece out there and show people that the game is still great.

Let me know your thoughts!!

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #tlou2 spoilers #tlou joel #tlou ellie #the last of us 2 spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou abby

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haydengale1 · 4 years ago

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Crazy & Training

(Date: 2020-08-06

In which a somewhat unhinged woman is arrested and a training session goes down)

So, the crazy lady returns.

The first time she came up to us, spouting things about how her brother was unjustly killed by us, she left us a present. The box was just a note and a cookie, but holy shit we thought it was a bomb. She didn’t wanna open it neither, so Chief and Lloyd got us all inside Command (myself, Cadet Pip, the new girl (I think her name was Esther?) some civilian and LC Runebell) and then dealt with it.

With Lloyd doing some magic bullshit that I can’t even wrap my head around.

So, box had that note in it. It’s a threat that this family of people aren’t wanting anything to do with Alliance any more. Yay, congrats, good for you.

So, the crazy lady returns. This time threatening an innocent lady who recognised her. Threatening with death, that is. Some huge draenei with arms like absolute tree-trunk arms stepped in and put the crazy one in a sleeper-hold so she wouldn’t cause more trouble. The innocent lady then called us.

I got so much respect for that draenei. I would’ve broken her nose probably. But nope, he just casually choked her out and put her to the side.

We arrived, took a statement and cuffed the crazy and brought her back to the Stocks. The draenei got off without anything illegal, since it was self-defence and all that.

Now, after a long conversation with this chick (classified cause I don’t think I’m allowed to write any of this in case it’s read by other people, so I’m on the safe side. Also why I don’t mention anyone but my co-workers) we gave her a sentence and I am convinced that entire family is complete coo-coo.

Personally, I wanted to break her nose. Reminded me way too much of a spoiled brat who’s used to getting her way, calling for Daddy Dearest when things aren’t going the way she wants them to. Punching her wouldn’t do any good, but it sure would make me happier.

Still. Just gave a bit of lip and kept my distance. I’ve gotten better at keeping my temper under wraps, and at least pretend I ain’t boiling on the inside.

Later, we did a joint thing with this order of folks. Holy people kind of. Bit complicated, but we trained with them to learn from one another. I thought it was a bit unnecessary but what can you do? I’m just a Cadet, so my opinion don’t mean shit anyway.

But, y’know, turned out kinda fun. Met that dwarf again, the one that threw bottles at us, name of Thorgrum Axeforge. Pretty decent guy, once he’s not raging his face off.

Somehow, dunno how, but somehow, I managed to grapple this ball of fire and rage, hold him and press him to the dirt like I was doing a take-down arrest. I mean, this guy wields an AXE bigger than HIMSELF and I slammed him down like I’d done it my entire life. Not once, but twice, both with and without a weapon in hand. We barrelled one another down too when trying to avoid getting hit by ranged stuff.

Maybe Keith’s training is rubbing off. Still, no hard feelings from the man and I got none for him either. He’s a good dwarf. Bit on the rough side, but he’s got some honour beneath all that salt. Wouldn’t mind drinking with him sometime. He did ‘threaten’ for future meet-ups anyhow, so, that might actually become a thing. Drink and share some misery. Looking forward to that actually.

But yeah, that wasn’t the end of the session either. The other folks got a lesson on citizen arrests, and honestly, I’ll admit, I did too. I actually had no idea if that was a thing. It is. Learn something new every day. Citizens can arrest criminals under certain circumstances, if there’s a lack of guards and such. Mostly just encourage them to call on us, but in a pinch and all that.

Good to know. There’s some rules and stuff for that too, if the arrest was for something that wasn’t illegal and all that. I gotta read up on the small print on that. Don’t wanna fuck up on this. I want to help people, not make shit worse. It’s like that old captain said: Knowledge is half the battle.

It really is. At least in this case.

Maybe I should start having handcuffs with me out of uniform, just in case. You never know when you need them. It’s like a dagger in your boot; just a precaution. Better have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

But was the day over yet? Nooo, we got us a little after-session meet-up in Lakeshire Inn. Finally got to ask Keith about his mare though. Great, beautiful thing, called Brightmane. Half Kul’Tiran, as I’d suspected. If there’s one thing I know, it’s horses. Dunno how many hours I’ve spent reading up on breeds.

I left early though. Felt tired, but at least I asked that. Ride home was pretty damn eerie. Elwynn Forest has some pretty long shadows sometimes. But That’s all there were; shadows.

Or some bandit who got cold stones about jumping me.

#diary entry #IC interaction

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imagine-darksiders · 5 years ago

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Ok, human get so much shit in Darksiders and are considered a ‘violent’ species but look at angels and demon and Nephilims who all they do is fight. So I vote for a hc where the horsemen’s human tells of on an Angel for calling their race violent and human pretty much lists off all the wars since literally he dawn of time and ends with this “I recommend you check your facts before spewing anymore bullshit from your ignorant mouth. Humans are violent? sounds very hypocritical to me.”

“Ugh. They are so primitive,” the angel drawled loudly enough to garner the attention of the barracks. At first, it took a moment for you to realise he’d been referring to you, so you don’t even look up until the silence stretches on a little too long. The background ambience of the old warehouse peters out entirely, no more soft murmurs as the angels talk amongst themselves, nor any clanking of metal armour or footfalls on the concrete floor. The hastily-drawn map that you’ve been pouring over for the past twenty minutes lays sprawled out across Usiel’s war table but as the silence settles thickly over the room, you tear your gaze up from it, confused.

“Huh?” You blink, glancing around and suddenly finding several pairs of eyes trained on you, the most hateful of which belong to a helmless angel with wings of a vivid, electric blue. His skin is almost as pale as the hair on top of his head, and two milky white irises barely stand out at all against the rest of his face but you can tell without a doubt that they’re pointed at you.

You’re about to ask if you could help him when a low growl comes from the larger, far more imposing angel standing beside you at the war table. “Manakel,” the angelic commander - Usiel - warns, his hard glare never straying from the map.

At his leader’s tone, ‘Manakel’ stiffens and after a moment’s deliberation, slinks away towards a row of book cases, haphazardly stacked with scrolls and tomes belonging to the Heavenly soldiers.

Shaking your head, you return your attention to the map. “Okay, so here -” You tap a finger against the rough outline of a large tree, penciled in by the hand of an angel to whom drawing is not his primary skill “- Is where I saw the bodies of your missing angels.... I’m...sorry, Usiel. I don’t think you can help them.” Peering sideways, you find the angel’s mouth is stretched into a grim line. A week ago, when you offered to help map the area surrounding his makeshift barracks, you hadn’t known you’d also be enlisted to find the angels’ fallen comrades too - those that had been unlucky and fell during the first assault. Death hadn’t been the end for them though, not by a long shot. They’d been twisted and warped into shadows of their formers selves, weapons made to serve the Destroyer and slay their own brethren.

You don’t mind the extra work, of course. After the end of the world, having at least something close to a purpose was a comfort, even if that purpose was grim in nature.

Just then, as you’re about to offer a meagre word of comfort to Usiel, you hear a heated scoff, and the hushed conversation that had been carrying on in the corner abruptly raises in volume thanks to a familiar voice boldly claiming, “Well if you ask me, this apocalypse only hastened the inevitable! Humanity was well on its way to destroying itself without Hell’s interference.”

There’s a moment of hesitation where you hear one of Manakel’s comrades urgently whisper something to him about keeping his voice down, but the loudmouthed angel doesn’t seem to care. If anything, when you drag your eyes up to look, you find him turning a contemptuous smirk your way. “Why should I? Are you worried the human might get violent? Ha!” he continues, laughing, “You needn’t worry, brother. For such a violent and vicious species, they’re only ever good at destroying themselves. Little more than impetuous savages, if you ask me... ”

Fingernails digging into the wooden table, you can feel your temper rising. This isn’t the first time you’ve overheard a member of another species voice such an opinion. At your side, you can feel as Usiel starts to bristle, the feathers all along his wings rustling like hundreds of leaves on a particularly angry tree. Before he can move or scold the soldier though, you decide that enough is enough and shove yourself up from the table, turning to face Manakel fully.

“Sorry, sorry to interrupt,” you snap, “But, uh, I’d just like to point something out.” Gesturing to him up and down, you let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “Like, you’re actually gonna stand there wearing full body armour, a sword on one hip and a halberd on the other, and tell me that my people are - are violent by nature?” You begin to trip over words, caught up in your indignation so you pause and take a steadying breath. “Haven’t you been at war with Hell for thousands of years?”

Apparently, the angel had expected you to suffer his insults in silence because as soon as you address him, he has the nerve to look surprised. “I....We -” Manakel falters, his eyes darting towards his commander as though he were expecting Usiel to take his side or at the very least tell you to stand down and shut up. But the imposing angel at your back has kept his eyes fixed to the map, an unreadable expression on his face. It would seem he’s happy to let you tackle this unruly recruit.

Deterred, but only slightly, Manakel reacts by puffing out his chest in an effort to intimidate you further. “The war with Hell is necessary. We fight for an honourable cause,” he spits triumphantly.

You give him the flattest look you can muster. “I’m not saying the ‘cause’ isn’t honourable, I’m saying its pretty rich of you to call humans savage when all you angels seem to want to do is pick a fight. Be it with me, the demons or even Fury! Now I don’t know about you, but that makes your people seem pretty violent to me.”

“That-” he sputters, aware that the eyes of his fellow angels are all trained on him now, “Is absurd! Just because some of us choose to fight, it does not make our entire species violent!”

The corners of your lips quirk up and you lean back on your haunches, drawling, “You don’t say?”

Immediately, he realises his mistake and tries to backtrack. “Well, now it - it is different with you humans! You’re wired differently to us! It’s in your very nature to be aggressive.”

“You hypocrite.” The angry growl leaves your throat before you can stop to think about the fact that you’re surrounded by dozens of battle-hardened angels who might take offence to a human getting uppity with them. “Are you really so far up your own arse you can’t see the skeletons in your own closet? You’re gonna judge us for the exact same damn thing you’re guilty of? Humans are not the only species who’ve been to war, Manakel. And last I checked, we’ve only be around for a fraction of the time angels have. How many wars has Heaven been involved in, hmm?”

Even the distance between you can’t hide how the warrior’s eyes suddenly flash wide open, taken aback. He hadn’t thought you’d give him this much resistance. As a last, ditch effort to regain some lost dignity, Manakel fixes his attention on Usiel and whines, “Sir! Are we to take this insolence lying down?”

Cooly, the commander takes a step sideways, bringing him closer to you and showing his soldier that he stands with you in this. “The only insolence I’m hearing is coming from you. Now, instead of continuing to disrupt my meeting with the human, perhaps you could make yourself useful and sort those into some kind of order.” Raising a hand, he points across the warehouse at a hugely disorganised pile of books and parchment scattered over several tables that are tucked away in a corner.

Manakel looks aghast and you can honestly understand why.

“With all due respect, Sir,” he says, “I am a warrior, not a scholar.”

Usiel’s metal gloves creak as he clenches his fists tightly and leans against the table, balancing on his knuckles. All he has to do is shoot Manakel a look that promises an even worse task and the smaller angel hesitates, glances around to his fellows and finds several of them smirking at him before he beats a hasty retreat, tail tucked between his proverbial legs.

“Hmph, I must apologise,” Usiel murmurs once the atmosphere returns to its regular hum drum and bustle, “I would have stepped in but you were handling him fairly well.”

You shrug a shoulder. “It’s cool. Not your fault. I just...wanted to point out the irony in what he was saying.”

“And a good thing too,” the commander agrees with a hearty chuckle, “Why, I imagine he’ll be feeling that sting for weeks. It isn’t every day a proud angel is cowed so thoroughly by a little human.”

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sourmendes · 6 years ago

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And then there was one

he still vividly remembers that day, the day that ruined everything.

You and Shawn both met at the academy, he was studying under Lieutenant John Samson whilst you were studying under Vice Admiral Georgia Watson, both of you hit it off and when you finally completed your courses you both aimed to reach your life goal.

The second you officially joined the Navy, you were assigned to the HMCS Calgary (Her Majesty’s Canadian Ship).

It was a nearly a year later, when you found out the HMCS Calgary was going to be carrying some extra people, and she wasn’t the only ship, 13 others were assigned to carry the new Army Troops over to Afghanistan, you were nervous, rumours were spreading like wildfire that the soldiers were arrogant, though us sailors couldn’t talk, we were dubbed ‘The gossipers’ considering we were constantly drunk and would spew bullshit out like there was no tomorrow.

You’d just made it to your bunk when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you turned around not expecting who you saw to be standing there

“Fancy seeing you here” Shawn says, eyeing your uniform

“Likewise” You smile

It had been nearly a year since you last had contact with Shawn, it felt weird seeing him, but you remembered he was one of the many soldiers who had to take refuge on the ship until you reached Afghanistan, where you’d then drop him off and see him next year or maybe never. You knew the second you applied to the Academy, what you were getting yourself into and you had to face the consequences that this was one of the most dangerous careers, but hey, you’d do anything to help protect your country, even if it meant you died at a very young age

The past few days were chaotic, turns out the gossipers were right, soldiers really were arrogant, it started off light; They’d get in your way, when it came to what you were assigned to, you were a Gunner Mate (They specialise in the maintenance of guns and will occasionally use them in emergencies)

You let it slide, but when they started staring at you and the other female associates like a piece of meat that they so desperately wanted to eat you knew they were arrogant. Shawn, however was different, he treated you and your fellow sailors with the upmost respect, constantly thanking us for letting him and the other soldiers onto our ship

He really is a softie.

But that all changed, on the night of November 30th. It was a breezy night, and you were currently outside on the upper deck, admiring the clear night sky, you did this often, when the cafeteria was loud and sometimes violent, you liked the peace and quiet, sometimes you even ponder the thought of training to be a Gunner Mate, when you could be something more peaceful, though no job in the defence force was ever peaceful

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” A voice says from behind you, you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was

“Yes” You reply, Shawn stands on the right side of you, looking in the same direction

“Its funny...” He starts, a white mist pouring out of him mouth

“What?”

“That nearly 3 years ago we met at the Academy and nearly a year since we last saw each other” He chuckles

“I guess” You laugh silently in response

The silence was comfortable, both of you acknowledging each other but saying nothing else

“Do you miss home?” He suddenly blurts out

“That’s a tough question, home can be anywhere if you find the right person to share it with, my parents never agreed with my choices in life and quite frankly I don’t blame them, I did some dumb bullshit in my teenage years, but the Defence Force changes you, so I think right now my home is on the Calgary” You respond, not making eye contact “Do you?”

“Yeah...I mean most soldiers never return so I feel really lucky that I’m still here in once piece” He whispers

We looked into each others eyes and started leaning in

BANG

I quickly pulled away, my heartbeat increasing dramatically, I felt the ship go sideways and Shawn grabbed onto the railing while I started running inside

“What’s going on?” He calls panic stricken

“We’ve been hit! Come on!” You call, Shawn follows, his uniform getting drenched from the sea water, though that was the least of his worries

“There you are L/N!” one of your friends shout over the screams of soldiers and sailors

“Brodie, what happened?” You ask worriedly

“A bloody torpedo hit the center of the ship, blew a bloody hole through it, everyone below deck is dead, all the soldiers need to be placed onto the lifeboats, the captain has already informed the other ships, but they’re 3 hours away and if we go onto Afghanistan territory they won’t be able to look after us” He shouts

“Shawn you have to go!” You tug his uniform sleeve

“I’m not leaving without you”

“Oh yes you are, and that’s an order” You exclaim, he looks like he’s thinking, but when you grab his cheeks and kiss him firmly he snaps out of his trance “If you love me, you’ll get on the boat”

“I-i don’t want to leave you” He whimpers

“Shawn...I’ll always be here” You point to his heart “I’ve done my duty, yours is yet to be done, do your country proud, protect us and most importantly, never forget me”

You smile weakly, knowing what’s going to happen to you and the sailors

“I love you Y/n L/n”

“I love you Shawn Mendes”

He runs after the other soldiers, you could tell he was crying, but refused to show it.

As Shawn clambered onto the lifeboat, he saw all the sailors run outside to make sure the lifeboats go the right direction, including his beloved Y/n, he blew her a kiss and she smiled doing the same, he watched her as the ship exploded and engulfed her and her fellow sailors in the flames.

A few months later and Shawn returned home, he was on the front lines when he got shot in the leg. His doorbell rung and he limped over opening it, there stood the mailman, yes 2019 and the mailman was giving him his mail when he should be putting it in the mailbox

“Hey Jeremy” Shawn says with a sad smile

“Hey Shawn” Jeremy replies giving Shawn him a letter

“Jeremy, you know I can go to the mailbox to get it”

“For gods sake Shawn you got shot on the front line, it’s the least I can do” He exclaims

“Thanks” Shawn says slowly shutting the door

He couldn’t get Y/n out of his head, seeing her get engulfed in the flames and water, it still clouded his memory and it often made him cry himself to sleep, he loved her- loves her, his beloved Y/n gone.

He sniffs, placing him on the lack leather couch in his living room and opened the letter, already knowing what it’s for

To Shawn Mendes,

As one of the survivors of the sinking of the HMCS Calgary you are invited to attend the small ceremony in honour of the fallen. The ceremony is to happen on Saturday the 14th of February 2019 and 2:30pm at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic

Regards Vice Admiral Georgia Watson

He inhaled a deep breath, he was going to attend to remember the woman he loved.

Saturday rolled around and Shawn stood there in a black suit and tie, the only thing holding him up was his crutches, though it did slim to none, as he walked in he saw some of the surviving sailors and the family of the deceased, images flooded his memory of the night

2:10

Shawn was seated at the front with some of the sailors and soldiers, they talked quietly and when the Vice Admiral came walking out the whole room quietened and turned their attention to her

“First off, I’d like to start off by thanking each and every one of you who could be able to join us, I know it must be a hard thing to go through, we lost some good people that night. Some of our sailors who survived are yet to be admitted out of hospital, they just dodged death and are still struggling with the weight of it, but I am pleased to announce one of the surviving sailors have volunteered to make her way from the Toronto Hospital to hold the ceremony” The Vice Admiral smiles weakly and quickly walks off to help the person

Georgia (Admiral) comes back a minutes later holding onto someones arm tightly while helping them up the steps

“Hello everyone, thank you all for joining, my name is Y/n L/n and I’m one of the surviving sailors of the HMCS Calgary”

@fourtristattoos

#FourtristattoosSpring

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years ago

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🏰⚔️ DMODT- 8 start

Setting up camp in the south forest, Eren stayed out of everyone's way. He'd shared a tent with Moblit for the night, and learned the hard way that the man could snore with the best of them. It was almost impressive how loud and nasally his snores were. Unable to sleep, he'd slipped from his tent to watch the moon. They said that swearing on the moon was an act of an insincere man. He didn't understand how it could be. There was magic in the moons sliver lights, and life was afoot under it. The trees all but glowed, as if absorbing the magic around them, while small creatures darted around the camp. Sitting in the grass, he was able to dig into the soil, to feel it against his fingers and feel the humming heartbeat of the ground. He felt so connected to everything, and closing his eyes only strengthened it. That's how he was able to tell he was being watched. Fear spiked within him, sparks of his magic shooting into the soil. As this happened, whoever was watching silently withdrew, and it wasn't until the presence had left entirely that Eren scrambled up and rushed back to his tent. At least with Moblit, he had no worries of being attacked. Reaching the place to be their forest base, the following day, Eren left everyone unpacking in order to walk a short distance from camp. The air has always been so much sweeter and nicer to the south. He'd thought it just a memory created by telling himself that, yet as he stood in the breeze, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Staring up at the branches of towering oaks, he marvelled at nature. From tiny seeds, these towering trees grew. It was all too soon that he was joined. He felt the alpha coming up behind him before he'd seen him "Eren?" Zeke... ugh. Couldn't he have this? No. He needed to be nice. Forcing the nicest smile he could, he knelt as he turned "Your, Royal Highness?" "I thought I recognised you, but Prince Erwin insisted you wouldn't be joining us" "I'm sorry, sir. I was not made aware that I would be either" "Is this not part of your training?" "Uh. Yes... I mean. Kind of" "What is it, omega? Explain yourself" "I am here to collect herbs for the castle, sir" Bending down, Zeke took his hand and pulled him to his feet "Eren, I must apologise for my actions last hunt. I do not regret what I have done, but it's haunted me since it happened, and I feel I now understand how you must have felt. I do hope we can put that ugliness behind us" Hold up. What? Zeke was apologising? Was this a dream? And what the hell was Zeke doing with his hand. The alphas thumb was rubbing circles against his hand. The man staring at him as he had his full attentions. Oh. He needed to reply "Yes. I would like that very much. I'm sorry I showed you such a bad sight" "Then let us talk. I hear you have taken your vows?" "Yes, sir. I have a new master now, and I have been learning the ways of magical arts" Being nice was hard. He had to hold his tongue and be annoyingly weak before Zeke "A new master you say? Did they happen to mark your nape?" "In a way" "That is such a shame. An omega like you, should have your choice of alpha" What a load of bullshit. An omega like him?! He was tall and gangly. His hips and thighs much too feminine, and his arse... He frowned at Zeke "Perhaps I have misspoken. It's just... I have often found myself thinking of you. It would please me greatly to know more about you" "There really isn't that much to know, sir" "Come now. I'm sure you have more than a few secrets. Like how you rose such a large apple tree?" "I don't know..." How long was Zeke going to hold his hand? It felt weird, and more than that, it made the marks on the back of his neck itchy. He had the feeling that he needed to scratch his nape, as if his skin was unnatural "You don't know?" "Magic is unpredictable, sir" "Ah. Still, I expect we'll yet see your powers before our hunt is over" "Prince Zeke!" A tall woman who he couldn't remember seeing before called out to Zeke, the prince finally releasing his hand "Alas, a Prince's duty is never done. You must join us tonight for dinner" Zeke stayed there as Eren swallowed awkwardly as he nodded. Why couldn't he just be left alone to sulk? And why was Zeke trying to be "nice" to him?! He hated the man, and didn't particularly want to be caught up in whatever he was planning. * The first few days of the hunt passed with deer and small game being caught. Eren had only had small and limited chances to collect herbs each time an animal was felled. Zeke was more than happy to trample the forest, which left Eren more annoyed than the man's continued "pursuit" of him. Each time Zeke killed something, he was sure to ask Eren what he thought, or to brag about his alpha strength in a strangely sidewards manner, as if it was his secondary objective. Still. Zeke had brought him herbs one nice, then let him explain the uses of each one without even interrupting him. There was nothing overly important about the herbs as they were fairly common throughout the kingdom. Slipping out in the middle of the night was easy, as was slipping out at breakfast time when everyone was busy. Eren wanting to spend some time to settle himself before he was forced along to follow Zeke. Still taking his home made suppressants, he'd bled in his sleep, so this morning was a mission to hide the evidence. He'd had the head healer ask him once before if he was alright, and that'd been embarrassing enough. He didn't wish to the imagine the embarrassment that would come with having both Princes and Levi finding out. Wandering into the forest, he found a place to bury his nightshirt, before being distracted by herbs. Not meaning to, his steps grew further and further away from camp, until he found himself lost. Well. Fuck... he couldn't retrace his steps with such a thick layer of leaves across the forest floor, and he didn't want to be the idiot omega who'd gotten lost. Turning around, he attempted to retrace his steps, only to find himself finding the forest thinning. Feeling sure it must be the way back to clearing they'd set up camp in, he was taken back with an audible gasp when he realised the clearing he'd found was caused by a fallen dragon. It's corpse the largest thing he'd ever seen. At least animal wise. Walking closer, he could feel his magic flaring, as his heart began to pound. From it's skeletal remains, it was clear the dragon had been there for some time... waiting for Draecian riders to bring it home. It hurt to see such a magnificent beast reduced to this, and tears welled in his eyes as he hoped the poor thing had died quickly, rather than spending its last seconds of life alone. From kneeling, he sat. Wanting to offer proper respect to the dragon, he took the herbs he'd collected and began to weave them together. It wasn't much, but it felt right to him to offer the fallen beast a token of his respect. Dragons were used so openly in magic, yet so many people were desperate to stay their hands on their remains for the money they'd bring. Ensuring the wreath was perfect, he said a small prayer to the gods of the Draecia people, and prayer that they'd find the dragon soon. Carrying the wreath to the skull of the dragon, Eren placed it between the two massive horns upon its head, before resting his forehead against the skull. He could almost feel the pain the dragon had been through, and mumbled another prayer for peace during his journey to the after growth. No wonder the herbs in the area had grown so fiercely, as the dragon rotted, its magic had seeped into the soil. Stepping back, he placed his palm against the skull, and thanked the dragon for its life "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Jumping at having his moment of respect ruined, Eren whipped around to find Levi standing there. Behind him, Erwin had his brow drawn in confusion "Get the fuck away from that corpse right now. How could you betray us like this? All dragons are to be left to Draecia to find" Obediently, Eren moved from the dragon. He hadn't meant any disrespect at all. He'd simple wanted to honour the dragon, and offer prayers for its return home. Not moving fast enough, Levi marched over and grabbed him by the arm. The alpha growling as his tugging caused Eren to fall to his knees "What did you do?! Did you take anything? Did you take horn or diamond?! Answer me!" Something inside Eren hurt. It hurt hard enough that he started to cry. He hadn't taken anything, and now he was being yelled at "Prince Erwin..." "Silence, Levi!" Fuck. Levi was angry enough to be yelling at the real prince. But as angry as he was, Eren didn't expect the hard slapping blow across his face, sending him sprawling onto the grass. The crack seemed to each through the space. Eren physically feeling a pain in his heart that he'd never felt before "Were you born stupid? Were you dropped on your head at birth?! Answer me! There isn't a single citizen in the kingdom that doesn't know desecration of a dragons final resting place is a grave crime! Levi, check his person. Make sure this omega hasn't stole anything from the dragon! God. How am I supposed to explain this?!" Burying his face in his hands, Eren stayed laying on the grass as he wept in anger. He'd never take a dragons tears. Dragons cried diamonds, and Draecia held the world's monopoly of them, but dragons only cried diamonds as they died or at the death of their rider, meaning they'd never part with them. The skull and the tears were revered in their culture. He knew the fake prince hadn't liked him, but the words coming from Levi felt like more physical blows to his body. His omega was melting down over it all, and now that he was crying, he simply couldn't stop. When Levi said no more, Erwin moved in to take him by the shoulders. Shaking his head, Eren didn't want to hear it. He couldn't calm himself down, and he could feel his fingers burning with magic "Eren?" Taking his have face in his hands, Erwin forced him to stare up and at his face "Deep breaths. He acted out of anger, and never gave you a chance to reply" No fucking shit. Hiccuping, he tried to reply to the prince "I... was... trying... to-show-proper-respect-by-offering-a-prayer" "You were offering a prayer?" Eren nodded, sniffling as he did "The poor thing is waiting to go home..." "Did you take anything from its body?" Eren shook his head quickly "Was leaving a wreath and prayer... I felt it's magic and it's sadness" "It's magic?" "J-just because it died, doesn't mean it doesn't hold magic. It's lonely" "You know you're not supposed to touch the body" Eren nodded "I only touched the skull to leave a prayer in respect, and the wreath. I swear!" His magic crackled, Erwin letting him go "Ok. Just stay away from Erwin" "You... don't need to keep calling him that. I know. But I won't tell anyone..." Erwin's face grew fierce, Eren drawing back "How?" "H-Hanji slipped up... but I won't tell. I just want you to know that you don't have to pretend with me" "Eren, you will never tell anyone the truth, ever. Even if they command you" First the shit with Levi and now such a strong alpha command from Erwin. Whining in fear, he mentally kicked himself. He was so stupid. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? "Do you understand?" Eren nodded under control of the command being forced upon him. Perhaps realising he'd gone too far, Erwin's face softened as he sighed lightly "Good. Let's get you up, and back to camp. Zeke will be wondering where we are" * Leaving Erwin to deal with Eren, Levi stalked back to camp, absolutely livid with the teen. How was he supposed to explain to Draecia that someone had been handling dragon remains? Or that they'd possibly even removed the diamonds from it. How could Eren be so incredibly stupid?! First running away from camp, and causing Moblit grief, then playing with a fucking dragon corpse. Did the brat not give two shits about the possible political fallout? And what if someone from Marley had found the skeleton? Or seen Eren with it? Zeke would have taken whatever he could have, and then they'd have been left with the fall out. Still. As angry as Levi was at Eren, he was just as angry with himself. He almost couldn't believe he'd struck the omega, nor could he believe the pain he'd felt at the blow. It'd been like striking himself, no doubt thanks bond he'd forced upon the mage. And the look in Eren's eyes... the omega had been so hurt and confused, as if Levi had committed an unforgivable deed. He'd barely been able to keep character as his heart plummeted and he wished to comfort the teen. Upsetting both Draecia and Marley could spell the end of the kingdom. Sinking down on the side of his bed, Levi buried his face in his hands. They'd only been ok the hunt for a few days, and now he'd upset Eren, and most probably Erwin while he'd been at it. Now he just needed to set Zeke off, and he'd have the trifecta. When Erwin finally made an appearance, the man was wearing what Levi liked to call his "dad" scowl. It wasn't like hadn't spent the last half hour internally angsting over the mornings events, and Erwin of all people should know he would be. Leading his horse over to Levi's side, Levi pulled himself into his saddle before looking to Erwin expectantly "You fucked up" "The only fuck up here, was to bring Eren with us. He took something from the dragon, didn't he?" "Actually, he didn't. Which he might have been able to tell you, if you hadn't slapped him across the face like that" "You know as well as I do, that we do not touch dragon corpses" "And you know as well as I do, that dragons have magic" "So, what? The shit was stealing magic?" Fuck... how was he supposed to explain that one? "Oh, yeah. We had an idiot of a mage with us, who can't control his powers. So, whoops?". That would go over about as well as a lump of shit in a catapult "Why are you always so eager to jump to the worst case scenario when it comes to him?" "You know exactly why. Now tell me what he did, and how the fuck we're going to fix it" "We don't have to fix anything. Eren didn't take anything from the corpse. No diamonds, or bones, were on him" "He was touching the corpse" "He was saying a prayer for it, and leaving a wreath of respect and in offering. It's a magic user thing" Levi couldn't keep his skepticism in check, replying sarcastically "Really. And I'm a fairy godmother" "I always thought you'd look good in a dress, and yes. He hadn't taken a single thing. He could feel the magic of the dragon and prayed for it to return home soon. I checked him myself" "Did you check him? Or did you take his word for it?" "He had no pockets in his pants or shirt. He wasn't wearing his boots, and there was no where else to hide anything upon him. You did however leave him with a rather nasty bruise on his face and arm" Leaning in, Levi jabbed Erwin with his finger as he hissed "Everyone knows not to touch a dragons corpse!" "Eren isn't everyone. He empathised with the dragon. If anyone from Draecia says anything about it, I will deal with myself" "He's going to get us all killed" "No. You're going to get us killed. You upset him to the point that his magic flared up" "And how is that my fault?" "You mounted him. You forged that bond with him. And now you're the one denying him" "You agreed with me!" "I did, but I think we need to rethink things" "No. What we need is as much distance between him and I as possible. Today only reconfirmed that the brat is an idiot"

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drwcn · 4 years ago

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'The onus has never been on him,' that slapped so hard. It falls true in canon events too and that just hurts. 'You don't have a gege and I no longer have a didi,' you ripped out my heart from my already collapsing chest. Your words are so beautiful, author. You know where to strike and your aim is nothing but perfect. Also, I desperately want lxc to dismantle the tyrannical way the Lan Sect Elders operate. His husband's death & lwj's suffering would be the last straw, is that wishful thinking?

Hey friends! You’re too sweet! I lumped these two asks together because they kind of both address the same thing, which is the actions of the elders. On tumblr and on AO3, I’ve had a lot of friends really upset with the way the elders acted. Rightfully so, since they made our poor boy commit honour su*cide.

However, I thought now is probably a good time to shed some light on the cultural and historical implications of their actions, and to perhaps play devil’s advocate a little bit.

The truth is, what the elders did within context is not at all outrageous. In fact, given how I’ve set up the story, to ask Wei Wuxian to die was the only thing they could’ve done since Yunmeng Jiang was unwilling to accept a divorce.

I will explain.

Because historical Chinese society was very gendered, I invite y’all to imagine for one second that there is no magic in this AU. Imagine this is a historical au and imagine Wei Wuxian as a woman. (I hate the heteronormativity of it, but in the setting of the story, by marrying into Gusu Lan Sect, he essentially has cast himself in that gendered role. There are no same sex marriages historically that I can draw parallels with... as far as I know.)

I believe Jiang Yanli in part 3 explains some of this in her internal monologue. She also said that the Gusu Lan family is within their right to do whatever they want. Her last in chapter three was “.. then by the week’s end, A-Cheng could very well be the only brother she has left.” She knew right away that death was a possibility.

You see, there is no forgiveness for any woman caught having an affair. No forgiveness of any kind. You will not find forgiveness from strangers, from public opinion, from your neighbour’s cousin twice removed. No one. In historical texts, 七出 (seven leaves) outlines the 7 reasons a man can reasonably divorce his wife.

Reason #1 is if the wife is unkind/unfilial to her husband’s parents (Right here, you can see just how different the priorities were in ancient Chinese society, how seriously ancient society took “respect your elders”, and why the Elders of Gusu Lan have so much power. This sets the stage for some of my later points.)

Reason #2 is no offspring. If she is unable to have children, her husband may also divorce her, although since Chinese society was polygamous until mid 1940s, this is usually not an issue because the wife can always just allow her husband to find a concubine.

Reason number #3 is affair.

I should also point out that “divorce” as we understand in modern society is not the same “divorce” that I speak of historically. Historically, there are two types of ending for marriages. 1) an amicable separation or so called “he-li” 和离, and 2)xiu 休. An amicable separation is almost always a huge negotiation, requiring the input of elders from both families. A man and a woman cannot just wake up one day and have an amicable separation. Also, amicable separations are typically to “save face” and is practiced by large gentry and noble families, like the Gusu Lans and Yunmeng Jiangs. As well, an amicable separation is usually done when the woman hasn’t done anything “wrong”, as in the 7 reasons indicated above. Anytime she has “committed” any one of the 7 “sins”, her husband is within full rights to “xiu” her without consulting anyone. A woman’s station in society doesn’t necessarily even save her from being “xiu”-ed, they just... take on different forms. An Empress for example can literally never be “xiu-ed”, BUT, if she does something wrong like...say for example she is a jealous lady who can’t do a good job managing the inner palace, the Emperor can “废后“ - as in abolish her of her empress status. She is probably confined to “the Cold Palace” 冷宫 (a desolated area of the palace that’s essentially a prison) for the rest of her life. If she did something VERY wrong, like say was caught having an affair, she may live (and be sent to the Cold Palace) if her maiden family is powerful/influential enough in court, but if her maiden family is just so-so, she is definitely 100% dead. She will usually be given 3 options: dagger, a white silk cloth, and a cup of wine. Basically, stab herself, hang herself or poison herself.

Now, that’s an empress. From empress downwards, all women, noblewoman and princesses included, can be xiu-ed.

I consulted my mother on this just to make sure I’m right, and she said, yeah, a woman divorced by her husband historically is a very serious outcome. Like.... “she could literally never face society again” kind of serious, so seriously in fact she “might as well be dead.” Her maiden family would not just...welcome her back with open arms. No. They’d send her off somewhere hidden away from sight.

As a matter of fact, once a woman is found guilty of committing a serious infraction, affair being the most scandalous, her maiden family may not even stand up for her because....well... she did something “wrong”. It is seen as more righteous if they allow her to die because then it’s like... her death restored her honour or she at least was good enough to face the consequences of her actions (All bullshit I know, but it is what it is). In fact, some large families with good reputations they can’t afford to besmirch will actively disown her.

Now let’s bring this back to Wei Wuxian. As Jiang Yanli mentioned in chapter 3, if Gusu Lan wanted to be a dick, they’d just divorced Wei Wuxian out right. That would’ve been the dick move. But they didn’t do that. They wanted to give the Jiangs an olive branch. As a matter of fact, had the affair just been just a thing within Cloud Recesses, the Lans would’ve allowed for an amicable separation, even though they were within their rights (technically) to divorce Wei Wuxian. But...for whatever reason (I mean... I know the reason, you don’t haha), the news of the affair became rapidly disseminated such that literally everyone knows. Now both families are in a sticky spot.

One, Zewu-jun is a prominent cultivator. To be cheated on in historical terms is a thing to be laughed at (fragile egos of manhood I suppose). To Lan Xichen’s behaviour, you really can’t voice any criticism. He’s gone above and beyond what is culturally expected as kind.

Two, the marriage is finished. Now that the affair is exposed, to continue would be a farce and cause more reasons for ridicule.

I knew pretty much since I started writing this AU that if I exposed the affair, one way or the other Wei Wuxian was gonna have to “die” if I wanted any semblance of reality.

The only other scenario where he wouldn’t have died is if Lan Xichen is allowed to marry concubines. Then, Gusu Lans could’ve just secluded (imprison) Wei Wuxian for the rest of his life. Any woman or man Lan Xichen marries thereafter still wouldn’t be his “wife” or “husband” because he technically never had a divorce. They would all be concubines, and I don’t think Lan Xichen is the kind of man to do that to someone he loves. Also, Lan Wangji would have lost any and all chances to be with Wei Wuxian since they will never let him out. In that case, wangxian is done.

I know it doesn’t make sense from a modern stance point, but what the Elders did was not only “right” but “reasonable”. Was it kind? I would even make an argument for kind. They intend to bury and honour Wei Wuxian after death (and that’s very important because funeral and afterlife in this culture are taken very seriously), and they will allow Lan Wangji to send him off at the funeral. No family in historical China would do that.

Within context, the Elders aren’t wrong. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian made their bed, now they have to lie in it.

#discordance #discordance explanation #wangxian #denira #corie replies

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bamf-alec · 3 years ago

Text

All Things By A Law Divine

Chapters 16-20

Artist: Lady Koalart (who did an absolutely incredible job)

Beta: @jeanboulet

Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings

Summary: Magnus had waited a long time for his soulmate to be born. Fate must have had a sick sense of humour, though, because after all these centuries, it had handed him a Shadowhunter. Magnus didn’t know who this Shadowhunter was, or how they could possibly be meant for each other, but he did know that this story wouldn't have a happy ending.

Alec also knew all about fate's sense of humour. He had known this his whole life. But the ground was coming up from under him and everything he knew was being turned on its head, systematically picked up and pulled apart and handed back to him looking nothing like it did before. Valentine was alive. His own parents had been members of the Circle. The Lightwoods’ grip on the Institute was slipping. And, through all this, his siblings had found their soulmates.

Alec had found Magnus. But that didn’t mean anything, did it?

Link to AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33515842/chapters/83272549

** I would really prefer you read it on AO3! **

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter 16

For most of her childhood, Isabelle Lightwood had bought into every fairytale. Soulmates were a gift from the angel and soulmarks a guide to the right path. They were a little bit magical — this mystical tether between two people, a string they could follow until they found the person who would be perfect for them. A reward for everything the Nephilim did for them, for all of their hard work and the difficult, battle-driven lives they led. For Downworlders, they were a consolation for which they should be grateful. For which they should feel honoured by. How merciful, how kind, how magnanimous the angels were to give this gift to the devil’s children too so that they might have some good, some light as well.

Now, Isabelle knew the fairytale was bullshit. Soulmates were as much a curse as they were a gift, and they were only magical by the most practical definition. The bond was made of magic, but they weren’t beautiful, mystical stories. Isabelle had spent too many years seeing how they hurt the people she loved to think otherwise.

To be fair, it had all worked out for Jace. Jace was as happy as she’d ever seen him, and Clary was almost a perfectly respectable young Shadowhunter woman like the Clave would approve of. Almost. If it wasn’t for her father, or her stealing the mortal cup, or her generally doing spectacularly risky things in the name of saving her mother.

“You’re doing what now?” Alec demanded.

Clary huffed. She’d been getting more impatient by the second for too many seconds. “This portal is the only way to get to Valentine.”

Alec was unfazed. Alec was rarely fazed by stubbornness or stupidity, unless it was so stupid that it couldn’t be expected, even from someone as impulsive as Jace. “This portal in some unknown alternate dimension that you could lose yourself in and be stuck forever?”

Clary nodded. “That’s the one.”

“It’s your funeral,” Alec sighed. He made the face he’d make when he was tired of dealing with people who couldn’t be reasoned with. Isabelle had seen it many, many times.

“Actually,” Jace cut in, looking sheepish. “It’s our funeral. I’m going with her.”

Alec stared at him. “To the alternate timeline, where you’ll be put in alternate-you’s mundane body, who you might end up as forever or, if you don’t, then you find a portal that takes you to Valentine, whom you face alone because no one else is stupid enough to go into this alternate dimension with you?

Jace nodded. “That’s the one.”

Isabelle, who had been letting them hash this all out for a while now, finally stepped in. She put a hand on Alec’s arm. “We can trust Meliorn. If he thinks this will work, then I believe him. It’s worth the risk.”

Jace pointed a hand at her in agreement, raising his eyebrows at Alec. Alec shook his head. He held Izzy’s gaze until he found what he was looking for. Or until he caved, because Alec had always had a soft spot for Izzy’s pleading face. She knew that, and she wasn’t above putting it to use. Alec made a ‘go-ahead’ gesture with his hand, and then folded his arms and turned around to glare at the trees.

Meliorn opened the portal. It was rare that Isabelle saw seelie magic, and she was always taken aback by the beauty of it. It was an extension of the world around it, like a conversation between seelie and nature.

Meliorn made a face when Jace stepped through the portal. He hadn’t wanted him to go with Clary, but he, too, was not immune to Izzy’s pleading face. So off they went to find the portal and hopefully put a stop to Valentine.

Isabelle shivered. It was still unthinkable that he was back, and that his goals hadn’t changed from before he’d faked his death. She couldn’t imagine being so hateful of the Downworld, just as she couldn’t imagine committing such atrocities against innocent people, whether they had demon blood or not. Sometimes, Izzy preferred the Downworld to her own. They had their prejudices and their conflicts, but it was nothing like the swift and merciless hand of the Clave striking down anyone who stepped a toe out of line.

When she looked at Alec, she could see the tension in his shoulders. It had been getting worse and worse the past few weeks. She’d hoped that after the memory demon he might’ve relaxed a bit, let down his guard ever so slightly now that the secret was out and the world hadn’t ended. Instead, it’d had the opposite effect.

Isabelle had stopped wondering when her brother would let himself be happy some time ago, but she still held out hope that it would happen.

She approached him carefully and rested her hand on his back. “Alec,” she said softly, moving her head to try to get him to meet her eyes. He stared resolutely at the trees. She sighed. “They’ll be okay.”

Alec shook his head. “It’s not just them I’m worried about. You helped Meliorn escape Clave custody, and it’s only a matter of time before they figure that out. If they haven’t already. Actions have consequences.”

Actions have consequences. Alec had been saying that to her since she’d picked up her first training sword. When she skipped out on her rune lessons. When she and Jace played a prank on Hodge. When she snuck out of the Institute. When she started seeing Meliorn. He kept saying it, but most often it wasn’t true. Not for her. It was only now, as she was older and as this mess with her family name had opened her eyes to what it meant to be a Shadowhunter and a Lightwood, that she realized her actions did have consequences. It just usually wasn’t her that felt them.

“You didn’t have anything to do with that,” she reassured him.

Alec snorted. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

It never was. Alec spent all of his worry on his family, and all of his shame and anger on himself. She could see the leather bracelet she’d made for him years ago, though his wrist was tucked into the fold of his arms. She rested her hand on it, feeling the woven leather under her fingers.

Her voice was soft, still aware of Meliorn behind them, when she asked, “Did you see Magnus?”

Alec turned his head to look at her. His jaw was a tight line, right up until he moved his hand out of the fold of his arms and into hers. Then he just looked tired. “Isabelle, please.”

Isabelle felt guilty only for an instant. She knew that she was part of his constant exhaustion. She didn’t mean to be. She never wanted to be. It was just that Alec had always loved her so fiercely, had always done absolutely everything for her, that she kept thinking she could do the same thing for him. Only, she never seemed to get it right.

The bracelet, at least, she knew had been right. It was reassuring now, when she looked at him and saw the weight on his shoulders or the walls he’d put up while she looked for a window. This, at least, she knew had helped.

She squeezed his fingers. She gave him a smile, the best she could when all she felt was worry, and then let him go. She said her goodbyes to Meliorn while Alec waited, and they walked back to the Institute in silence.

Actions have consequences, Isabelle thought bitterly to herself. She folded her legs over each other, the leather couch tugging at her skin. She smoothed down the front of her dress. Alec slammed his hands on the desk, then leaned into them, his back a picture of tension from where she sat.

“The cup is your only way out of this,” he muttered. She wasn’t sure if it was directed at her, or if he was just thinking out loud and bemoaning their current predicament. “I knew I shouldn’t have let them go.”

“And if you hadn’t?” Izzy demanded. “What difference would it make? We can’t give the Clave the cup, Alec.”

Alec looked over his shoulder at her. “Why not?”

Izzy stood. She crossed the room in swift steps, heels clicking, until she leaned against the desk beside him. “The cup is the only way of getting to Valentine. That’s the priority. Saving the Downworld. If we give it to the Clave, who knows what they’ll do with it? They’ll probably lock it away in Idris and keep pretending they’re making every effort to find Valentine while doing everything but what will actually stop him. And by then how many more lives will he have taken?”

They held each other’s gaze until Alec looked away. He looked at the stained glass window behind the desk, Raziel with the mortal instruments, weaving the souls of two faceless Shadowhunters together. Alec’s voice was quiet when he said, “You’ll be deruned.”

Isabelle put her hand over his. He was wearing the family ring, as he had since their parents had given it to him at his runing ceremony. A bulky, victorian thing, passed from son to son through generations. For Izzy’s runing ceremony, Alec had given her the serpent-shaped whip she wore around her wrist.

She smiled sheepishly. “Know any good lawyers?”

It had the desired effect. The hopeless look on Alec’s face eased enough for him to breathe out a laugh. He turned around, folding his arms against his chest. It pulled his shirt taut, and there was no bulge where a bandage would have been. Magnus must have healed him after all.

Isabelle bit her lip. She played with her bracelet, the snake’s head twisting in and out of sight. It would be manipulative, she knew. It would be another push that Alec didn’t want. It would be the same as every other time she had tried to help and only ended up reminding him of his hurt.

But…

This was different, wasn’t it? Magnus was different.

Pushing him towards Alec when he’d come to fix the wards had been the same kind of thing, and that seemed to have worked out.

“Alec,” she began carefully. When she found herself under his scrutiny, she hesitated. Then she pushed her shoulders back and reminded herself that she was Isabelle Lightwood, social butterfly, smooth-talker extraordinaire, relationship expert. “Do you think Magnus would do it?”

Alec’s face immediately twisted. “Magnus? He’s not even… Lydia said she would help, if we could give her a way to do it.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “I doubt she can be both the prosecutor and my representative.”

Alec shook his head. He brought his thumb up to worry his bottom lip, searching for an answer in the floor. He muttered, “We need more time.”

“The Inquisitor’s already here. We don’t have more time. Magnus— ”

“Just,” Alec held up a hand. He gave her a hard look. “Just let me talk to Mom and Dad first. If they made it out of the Circle as the heads of this Institute, then… Let me talk to them.”

Izzy sighed, but relinquished. “Fine. But if they can’t help then will you please just consider—”

Alec clasped her shoulders, cutting her off. He kissed the top of her head. She put her arms around him, stealthily slipping one hand into his pocket. “I’ll go find them. You just stay here and keep playing solitaire.”

The door closed behind him. It echoed. Raziel stared down at her in judgement, the mortal cup in hand.

Isabelle threw herself back onto the couch, this time with much less poise. Petulantly, she muttered, “Maybe I’ll even try Mahjong.”

Chapter 17

“I have to say,” Magnus declared as he fixed the buttons of his suit jacket. He inspected the stained glass and stuffy, boring furniture. “I was surprised to get your fire message. Have we devolved from texting?”

“They took my phone,” Isabelle replied. She sat in the chair, her feet kicked up on the desk. She wore a stunning pair of thigh-high leather boots that could not have been comfortable to run around in. “And my stele. I stole Alec’s.”

Magnus abandoned his inspection of the pileup of dust on the fireplace to whirl around and raise his eyebrows at her. “Stole it? He doesn’t know you called me?”

Isabelle shrugged mysteriously. “I mentioned something about it.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. It was an elaborate way of saying no. Magnus was a fan of all things elaborate, but he was not a fan of possibly sneaking around behind the back of someone whose feelings he cared about. Not to mention he’d done it once already, helping them smuggle out the cup. Though was that sneaking if Alec had been nowhere in sight and Isabelle had sworn to tell him right after? He hoped she had told him. He hoped the reason Alec wasn’t here, once again, was because he didn’t know what was going on, and not because he was so angry at his siblings for getting into this mess that he was leaving them to fix it themselves.

That didn’t sound like Alec, as far as Magnus knew. So there was that, at least.

Magnus sighed. He folded himself down on the stylish leather couch, clearly placed there by someone who was not involved with decorating the rest of the room. “I’m going to be honest, Isabelle. The Clave does not have a notable record of dropping cases, least of all when there’s an example to be made of someone. And you, my friend, would make quite the example indeed.”

Isabelle hummed. It was clearly nothing she didn’t already know. “Can you fight it?”

Magnus moved his hands around enigmatically. Coloured light from the stain-glass window bounced off his myriad of rings. “Will I try my absolute best? Of course. Will the Clave listen to a Downworlder and a traitor? Hard to say.”

Isabelle laughed. “I knew you were the right person to call. Alec didn’t—” She cut herself off abruptly, drawing her lips into her mouth. It was entirely unsubtle and, just to make sure of it, she looked completely away from Magnus, too.

Magnus wondered if he was being played, or if she genuinely hadn’t meant to mention Alec. Isabelle had a way of making everything she did seem intentional.

He took the chance. “Alec didn’t… What? Want me here?”

Isabelle gave him an apologetic look. “He wanted me to wait until he’d exhausted all other options. He went to talk to our parents. But it’s been an hour, so I don’t think it’s going well.”

Magnus contemplated. “If Alec doesn’t want my help, I’d hate to go against his wishes.”

“No, no, no,” Isabelle said urgently, pulling her feet off the desk. Her heels hit the floor and she rounded the desk to grab Magnus’s hands. “It’s not like that. He’ll be glad you’re here. And I need you. Help me, Magnus. You’re my only hope.”

“Have you actually seen Star Wars?” Magnus questioned dubiously.

Izzy shrugged. “My soulmark,” she said, like that explained it, which it mostly did.

Magnus sighed. He squeezed her hands before he dropped them. He could never turn away a friend in need, least of all one who had only been trying to help the Downworld. This generation of Shadowhunters was most definitely proving more trouble than they were worth, but it was a much better kind of trouble than the generation before them.

“Alright,” he relinquished. “Let’s work on your defense.”

Izzy gave him an uncertain look, but it was charming. “Do I even have a defense? I’m guilty. I helped Jace steal the cup, and I helped Meliorn escape, and I helped them all head off into the abyss after Valentine.”

Magnus shook his head. “We’re not arguing that you’re not guilty. We’re arguing intention. Everyone here has a common goal — hunting down that monster and putting an end to his reign of terror. Everything you did was in furtherance of that goal. We just have to hope that the Clave despises Valentine more than they do one misguided teenager who went about things a little bit wrong, but whose heart was ultimately in the right place.”

Izzy snorted. “I don’t think the Clave puts much weight on heart.”

“Then hopefully they’ll just see you as a nuisance who’s unlikely to evolve into anything worse, and not want to bother with all that sentencing and deruning and shunning.”

“But shunning is their favourite pastime,” Izzy said gravely.

Magnus laughed. Izzy did, too.

He thought about telling her that even if this went terribly, she would be okay. Magnus had experience acclimating exiled Shadowhunters to mundane life, and he wouldn’t mind a roommate for a while. It sounded comforting to him, but he also knew that Shadowhunters tended to like to remain Shadowhunters, and didn’t tend to like to think about the alternative.

So he didn’t. Instead, he focused on her case. He wasn’t entirely up to date on Clave law, but he was certain it hadn’t changed that much in the last few centuries. Few things among the Nephilim ever did. Even the window, Raziel bestowing upon his loyal soldiers the consolation prize of a soulbond, had been here since the Institute was built.

Magnus checked his cufflink, just to make sure his sleeve wasn’t going anywhere.

Sed lex dura lex, his mark read. The law is hard but it is the law. Unlike the usual tidy print the words that showed up on his wrist took, this one was written in more of an angry scrawl, like someone had been pressing the pen really hard into the paper, even when it kept piercing through.

Magnus understood. That was how he had always felt about the Shadowhunters’ little motto. Looking at Isabelle, he hated it even more now.

Chapter 18

It was like Alec’s parents knew their daughter was facing imminent doom and had purposely made themselves as difficult as possible to locate. He checked all their usual places, including their bedroom, and asked three different Shadowhunters, who gave him three different answers. Every room he didn’t find them in sent his heart rate skyrocketing, anxiety building as the time ticked down.

He finally found them in one of the ops rooms he’d checked on his first pass, but had circled back to out of lack of anywhere else to look. He worked really hard to calm himself before he entered. They weren’t the ones he was frustrated at. They were on the same side. They all loved Isabelle. They would help. Or, at least, they would want to.

“Mom,” Alec greeted. He was a little out of breath. “Dad. We need your help.”

Maryse and Robert Lightwood looked at each other. Then, Alec’s mother sat carefully in one of the chairs around the holographic table. Robert gestured for Alec to take one, too, and joined her. Alec didn’t.

“Isabelle,” Robert nodded. “We know. The Inquisitor went over all the charges with us.”

Alec’s voice was hurried. “Then you know how bad it is. She could be deruned. Please, tell me you have a plan to stop this. Are you going to represent her?”

Robert shook his head. “Alec, sit.”

“I don’t want to sit, I want to help my sister. Where the hell have you been? Did you even go to see her?”

“Alexander,” Robert said very sternly. He pinned his son with a dangerous look until Alec reluctantly took the chair across from them. Then, he huffed and leaned back in his seat. “We’ve been discussing the matter and we think we have found a solution that will work for all parties involved. When we faced trial after… those events, we received leniency for a number of reasons. The primary one being you, Alec.”

Robert scratched at his wrist, where Alec knew his soulmark was nothing but a grey line. Maryse caught the movement and folded her hands together on the table, leaning towards Alec to finish the story. “It wasn’t just that the Clave was reluctant to exile an infant Shadowhunter along with his parents. It was also the fact that we had you, that you were healthy and well-taken care of. It was proof of our values. That family was as important to us as it is to the Clave. Our marriage, as well. Duty, honour, commitment. That’s what a marriage signifies.”

Alec shook his head. His foot tapped, and he put a hand on his knee to stop it. “So, what? You’re saying Izzy should fake being pregnant? Engaged? Everyone knows she has a soulmark.”

Maryse glanced nervously at her husband, and Alec was reminded that he’d been avoiding her for over a week now. It seemed so petulant now, so ridiculous. Maybe if he’d gone to her sooner, as soon as he’d found out those idiots had taken the cup, then none of this would have escalated as it had.

“Right now our family doesn’t represent the Clave’s values. But if we did, if the Lightwood name were respectable again…”

Robert interrupted his wife, never one for dancing around the point. “Marry Lydia Branwell. The Inquisitor holds her in good standing, and her family is one of the most respectable there is.”

“Lydia?” Alec gasped. He looked back and forth between his parents, wondering if they were joking. They both looked sternly back, faces tight and serious. “You hate Lydia.”

Maryse glanced at her husband. “We disliked her taking over the Institute. But that would be a different story if she were our daughter-in-law. She’d be family. The Institute would belong to us again. Besides, we know she’s already expressed an interest.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Alec scoffed. Anger boiled hot inside him. “Do you care about Izzy or is this just an opportunity to further your agenda of having your children clean up your mistakes?”

Maryse rose from her chair, towering. A picture of the swift hand of discipline that had descended on all the Lightwood children exponentially more often than the hand of kindness or support. “Do not speak to us that way, Alexander,” she snapped, but she caught herself. She breathed, squared her shoulders, and tried to be as gentle as Maryse Lightwood ever could when she said, “Even if you find another way to protect Isabelle now, it’s only a matter of time before something else threatens this family. The Clave is unsatisfied and distrustful of us. They don’t want us here, in power. A good, respectable marriage would put all this to rest once and for all.”

“A good, respectable marriage,” Alec repeated, mockingly. He shook his head. His tone left no doubt that he didn’t mean it as a compliment when he said, “Like what you have?”

Maryse inhaled sharply, but Robert’s expression only narrowed. “Watch yourself, Alec.”

Alec stood. “No. Is this what you want for your children? What you have? That’s the kind of life you want to condemn us to? Or, no, sorry not us. Because unlike the Circle, the Clave thinks soulmate bonds are the holiest of bullshit. So Izzy and Jace are out, and Max is too young, which just leaves me to clean up the mess you’ve made of the Lightwood name because I don’t have a mark. How convenient.”

“Convenient?” Maryse shook her head in confusion. She looked to Robert, but his brow was furrowed too. “Alec, none of this is convenient. It’s just what needs to happen. I know you’re young and your siblings have filled your head with their love of Downworlders so you’ve forgotten how the Clave works, but for us duty must come before anything else. You have a duty to this family. And, yes, you are the one in the best position to fulfil it because you don’t have a soulmate. So think about your siblings. Jace can bond with Valentine’s daughter, and Isabelle with whoever she finds. They’ll be happy, and bonded, and they will still enjoy all of the privileges and affordances that come with leading the Institute. And all thanks to you.”

“A noble sacrifice,” Alec said flatly. He took his seat again. “It is convenient, though, isn’t it? That I don’t have a mark. I’m a blank slate you can match up with whoever serves this family best.”

“Alec,” Maryse sighed. It was sad, tired, as it always was when a young Alec used to ask about his wrist. She had very rarely humoured him, usually avoiding the subject. Alec was beginning to understand why, and it wasn’t for the reasons he’d always thought. “I’m sorry. I hope you know that I would’ve wanted that for you. You deserve a soulmate as much as anyone else. But this is the reality, and one day you’ll need to accept that.”

Alec stared at her. He realized he was playing with his sleeve, pushing it up enough to run his thumb across his skin. He took a breath, and then another, until he could speak without the anger or frustration that seemed so constant now. The numbness had passed, as had the war of countless emotions, and had settled into a cloud of acrimony. “I accepted that a long time ago, Mom, but I’m not sure it is the reality.”

Silence collapsed on the room. Maryse searched her son’s face, every one of her muscles frozen. It was quiet long enough for him to know that she knew what he wasn’t saying, long enough for him to know that she’d known already what he’d only just found out. That she had known for a long, long time. They stared at each other in a wordless communication.

Robert broke it. He pushed his chair back and stood, righting his jacket where it’d ridden up. His expression was as impassive as ever. “This is pointless. Alec, make a decision. I’m going to see how the trial is coming along.”

That got Alec’s attention. “The trial? It hasn’t started.”

Robert frowned at him. “It started ten minutes before you came in here.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

Robert looked at him like he was crazy. “I thought you knew. Besides, I didn’t think you’d need this much convincing to do the right thing,” he said. It was stern, disappointed. A familiar tone.

After a beat, he shook his head and left. His hand rested on his wife’s lower back when he passed her, and she gave him a small, grateful smile.

Alec watched with a clenched jaw. Then, he stood too. Whatever else was going on, Isabelle came first. If the trial had started, then he was too late, anyway. All that was left now was to show her his support by holding her hand while whatever happened played itself out. These things usually took at least an hour, with all the Clave’s fanfare, so maybe he still had time to make a phone call and get her an advocate. Not the option he’d hoped for, but the only one he seemed to have.

He didn’t make it to the door when his mother grabbed him by the arm.

“Alec,” she said imploringly, her voice barely a whisper. Her expression was pleading. It was unfamiliar. Alec had never seen his mother look anything but disappointed, proud, or carefully neutral. The hand she had grabbed him with was the one with her soulmark, covered with a tight band just as it had been his whole life.

He shouldn’t do this now. He couldn’t help it. He’d been pushing it down for over a week, every time he saw her, never knowing how to bring it up or if he even wanted to. But he couldn’t avoid it anymore. “Was it you? Or did you just help cover it up?”

Maryse’s eyes widened. He thought she looked a little panicked, but it was hard to tell when he’d never seen it on her before. “I don’t—”

“Don’t, Mother. For once, can we please not lie to each other?”

Alec heard her inhale, watched pain fill her eyes. She opened her mouth and closed it, gave him a hopeless look. It was clear she didn’t know what to say. Alec didn’t, either.

Maryse Lightwood had always been a pillar in the New York Institute. In Alec’s life. Unshakeable, strong. She handled every challenge with dignity and grace, had a firm command over everyone born out of respect, honour, duty. She was the perfect Shadowhunter. A leader, a soldier, a diplomat. She had married into a strong Shadowhunter name and passed it to three strong children. She had taken in another when he had nowhere else to go, and he, too, had made her proud. She had trained them, taught them, guided them on the right path, instilled in them good, Shadowhunter values.

Alec had only one memory of her as a mother that stood out to him. Before Jace or Max, when it was just him and Isabelle, and Robert spent more time in Idris than he did with his family. Alec hadn’t been able to sleep, and he’d snuck into the kitchen to steal some sweets where he knew the chef hid them. She’d caught him. He’d been terrified, certain he was about to be reprimanded and assigned double the training time for the next week. His arms were already sore from having double that week.

She hadn’t. Instead, she had leaned down and flicked his nose with a smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she’d said. She had even kissed the top of his head, squeezing him tight for just a second.

Maryse had never been shy with her pride or with her praise when they performed admirably at their assigned tasks. But she had never been affectionate, either. Warmth was not something that came easily to Maryse. Unconditional love didn’t, either. Maryse had never been shy with the conditions that came with it.

Alec ripped his arm out of her grip. “I’m going to help Izzy.”

Chapter 19

The trial was already underway when Magnus finally saw Alec. He came in through the back and quietly took the seat behind him and Isabelle, his expression positively stormy. He could see their parents a few rows back, looking equal parts disapproving and distraught. Their talk must not have gone well, then.

Magnus frowned at Alec, who met his eyes. Alec pursed his lips, shaking his head to say either ‘it doesn’t matter’ or ‘my parents are assholes who can’t help and whom I’m feeling very inclined to murder right now’. Magnus offered a consolatory nod and turned his attention back to where everything was falling spectacularly apart.

Isabelle’s questioning had gone about as well as could be expected. Lydia had proven to be far more ruthless than Magnus had given her credit for. His opening argument hadn’t been a roaring success, either. It hadn’t been his best moment, but he’d been so overcome by his frustration with the Clave and their oppressive regime that seemed only to exist to hurt people, that he’d devolved to petulantly exclaiming, “It’s the cup’s fault. Put the cup on trial!”

And then he’d immediately gone back to his seat to question all of his life choices and come to terms with the fact that his friend was going to be deruned because he couldn’t contain his temper long enough to finish making a reasonable argument.

So here they were, the case pretty much closed in the eyes of the Clave. He could see it written all over the Inquisitor’s stony, wrinkled face. She had judged Isabelle and found her lacking. Isabelle’s outburst on the stand, condemning all of Shadowhunter culture and siding herself with the Downworld had only cemented her fate.

Still, Magnus couldn’t help but to be proud. He was right about these Lightwood children, though he hadn’t known just how right until now. They were good. They were the kinds of Shadowhunters they’d waited eons for. Maybe there was hope of bridging the abyss between them and the Downworld yet, with this generation in charge.

Probably not if they all got deruned before they had the chance to change anything, though.

In a last ditch effort banking mostly on Isabelle’s “She’s perfectly fine” and Alec’s, the night he’d come over unexpectedly, “I think she’s on our side”, Magnus called Lydia to the stand.

She took her seat with trepidation. Her eyes darted to the Inquisitor, who gave her a stony look back until Lydia straightened her posture and steeled her face. Magnus gave her a moment to simmer while he stood from his chair and rounded the table in front of him.

“I just have one question,” Magnus began, with grandeur. “Why are you prosecuting this case?”

Silence reigned for a long, uncomfortable moment during which Lydia grew both confused and concerned, the Inquisitor grew impatient, and Magnus grew hopeful.

Lydia was frowning when she said, lacking any conviction, “Because the law is hard, but it is the law.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. The Clave’s defense for everything, apparently. He was just starting to turn around and brace himself for the sentencing when Lydia spoke up again, more certain. “But that doesn’t make it right. We’re trying someone for being compassionate, thinking for herself. She saved a life that was being sacrificed for nothing.”

Surprised, Magnus raised one very pleased eyebrow. He could feel himself starting to smile, before the Inquisitor tried to interrupt. Lydia brushed her off and continued, “Looking out at the faces here… A brother and sister who disagree on everything except for how much they love one another and how loyal they are to each other. A man who took this case because he believes injustice towards his friends is intolerable, in spite of how horribly we treat him and people like him.”

Magnus blinked. He turned around to catch Isabelle’s eye, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. Behind her, he caught Alec’s, who for once made no attempt to mask how he was feeling. Magnus could see the concern, and the anger, the surprise and the hope that this was going somewhere that wouldn’t lead to him losing his sister.

If there was anything Magnus knew for certain about Alec, it was that there was absolutely nothing in the world that was more important to him than his siblings. He wouldn’t be the same without any of them, if he would even be anything at all.

Mostly, Magnus was here because Isabelle was his friends. But he was also here because he cared about Alec, and he couldn’t imagine letting him lose such a big part of himself if there was anything he could do to stop it.

“Loyalty, decency, compassion, love,” she continued. “These are the concepts that we should consider to decide guilt or innocence in a case like this.”

The Inquisitor slammed an angry hand against her armrest. “Those are not the concepts of the law. Now enough of this nonsense.”

Lydia looked equally angry, gritting her teeth. “I agree. The case is nonsense. I withdraw the charges.”

The room erupted into applause, proving just how well-liked Isabelle was at the Institute, the social butterfly that she was. Magnus let himself breathe for the first time since the trial had started. He drew her into his arms, squeezing tightly. Isabelle pulled away to grin at him, looking absolutely radiant. She’d changed her outfit to something much more respectable but much less her, but she still pulled it off like she’d been born to wear it. Around her neck, his necklace was on full display.

The relief was all-encompassing. He’d been so certain it was over, that they’d lost.

He took a moment to look behind him and smile at Lydia to show his gratitude, but a touch on his arm made him turn back around. Immediately, arms wrapped loosely around him. He had only a moment to revel in the fact that Alec was hugging him before he pulled away with a pat on Magnus’s back and focused on his sister instead.

Only an instant, barely a real hug at all, and Magnus had felt safe, had felt comfortable, had felt wanted. If this was what having a soulmate was like, anything more might actually kill him. What would it feel like to kiss him?

Focus, Magnus hastily shook himself out of it. They were in a courtroom, surrounded by Clave envoys, celebrating Isabelle. Or, they had been.

The Inquisitor, who had made it her life’s mission to destroy every good feeling anyone had, banged her gavel until the room was silent. She waited until everyone’s attention was locked on her. “If you think refusing to prosecute exculpates the defendant, you are wrong,” she spat. “She is guilty.”

Dread filled Magnus.

The Inquisitor stood, towering over the room from her raised stand. She looked right at Magnus when she said, “The defense was correct. The Clave wants the mortal cup. If it is returned within twenty-four hours, this ruling will be vacated. If not, Isabelle Lightwood will be stripped of her runes and exiled from the society of the Shadowhunters forever.”

She banged her gavel to signify the trial was over, and left them all to their misery. Anger took over the dread in Magnus as he stared at the door she’d gone out of, the familiar rage he felt whenever he dealt in Nephilim politics. It was strange to be on this side of it, to be inside of it, defending a Shadowhunter, but it was just as awful as every discriminatory ruling or hateful rhetoric they’d spewed at him and his kind.

Alec and Isabelle were whispering together, too low and too overtaken by the other voices in the room for Magnus to hear. He looked between them, fixing the buttons of his suit jacket, before he interrupted. “So, where is the cup?”

Alec and Isabelle shared a panicked look, until Alec looked away. He scrubbed a hand down his face. His knuckles were split and bruised. He shook his head, and then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd of people in the room.

Isabelle looked after him with a pained expression. She did nothing to hide it when she turned back to Magnus and explained, glumly, “Jace and Clary took it through a seelie portal to another dimension.”

“Oh,” said Magnus intelligently. What he actually wanted to say was Fuck.

“They’ll be back,” Izzy reassured him. It was too convincing. It was clear it was meant for the both of them. “They will.”

Magnus rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure they will,” he agreed.

Isabelle wrung her hands. Her smile was weak and disingenuous. “Stay with me until then?”

Magnus smiled back. “Of course.”

Chapter 20

Alec stared at the floating redheaded woman, suspended in green magic in the middle of one of the private rooms in the infirmary. Clary, who hadn’t left her mother’s side since they’d arrived at the Institute, looked a lot like her. The parts that didn’t probably looked like Valentine, but that was a disturbing thought, so Alec tried to stop thinking it.

“How’s Izzy?” Jace said from beside him, watching his soulmate like a hawk. He hadn’t said much since they’d gotten back and Alec could feel through the parabatai bond that he was upset, but he was giving him space to talk when he was ready.

Alec sighed, unfolding his arms. “She’s good. Relieved. Dodged a bullet.”

It was a low blow, especially when he knew Jace was dealing with something already. Alec had never been in a worse mood in his life, though, and was having trouble controlling how that manifested. He’d left the trial immediately after everything went downhill with nothing he could do to stop it, pounded his fists into some punching bags. When he’d gone to deliver the news to Izzy (and Magnus, who was unexpectedly still here), he hadn’t stayed.

His skin itched. His knuckles had only just stopped bleeding and the pain pulsed through his hands. He was so restless he had to keep reminding himself to stay still.

He wasn’t angry with Jace. He was so happy and so relieved for Izzy. He was grateful for Magnus. He just couldn’t trust himself to be around any of them without saying something he’d regret, so caught up in all of this anger.

He was just about to leave Jace to keep staring at his soulmate, halfway out the door when Jace stopped him.

“Valentine raised me.”

Alec turned. He contained his surprise, every other thought or emotion vanishing while he reaffirmed that he’d heard him correctly. Jace wouldn’t look at him. He stood with his arms crossed, staring at nothing. Pain was written all over his face. It was so unlike Jace, who was so good at pretending that nothing ever got to him.

“He pretended to be Michael Wayland,” Jace continued. “After he murdered him. He took me in and pretended to be my father, all those years.”

Alec locked eyes with Clary, who had only looked up from her mother for a moment. She gave Alec a sad look, commiserating in Jace’s pain, and Alec hated her a little less for how much she cared about his brother.

“I’m sorry,” Alec said, when it was clear Jace had nothing else to add. He wasn’t sure what he should be sorry about. Jace was still Jace, the same Jace he’d been the day before. It didn’t matter if the asshole he’d spent his first ten years with was Michael Wayland or Valentine Morgenstern. Not to Alec, at least.

“I don’t even know…” Jace trailed off, lost. “I don’t even know who my parents are. If I am a Wayland, or if he took me from someone else. If he killed them, or if they’re alive somewhere, missing their son, with no idea that I’m here.”

Alec stepped closer to him. “It doesn’t change who you are, though. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Jace said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Alec watched him for a second. Their bond was no less chaotic than it had been a moment ago, Jace’s side still in turmoil. “If it’s important to you, we can try to find out. Your parents. There have to be records or magic or something that can give you some answers.”

Jace glanced at him, nodding absently. “Yeah, right.” Then, with a quick glance at Clary, “And you?”

Alec frowned. “Me, what?”

“What’s going on with you?” Jace urged. He was meeting his eyes now, his eyebrow raised. He sounded both unimpressed and like he’d lost all the patience he’d ever had when he added, “Don’t think I can’t feel that you’re all fucked up, too. This bond isn’t just one way.”

Oh.

Alec swallowed. He didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t know which parts were most important, most distressing. It felt a bit like everything had piled on top of each other, one after another, until he was left with a stack of explosives that had detonated his life.

Jace was harder to talk to than Izzy, too. He wasn’t as intuitive and he was just as bad with feelings as Alec was. Jace was comforting because Alec didn’t talk to him, because Jace never expected him to and was always there when Alec needed him, willing to distract and just be in his presence without Alec feeling like he had to say or do things he wasn’t up to.

Their deep, emotional talks were much, much rare than with Izzy. It gave them more weight. Weight that felt crushing now that Alec stood in front of him, no ground under his feet and feeling more lost than he’d ever been.

Alec waved his hand. “My soulmark thing,” he said. “You know.”

Jace looked at him for a very long moment. “Magnus?”

Alec inhaled shakily, then masked it with a shrug. “Maybe. Among other things. I got in a fight with mom and dad.”

Jace hummed. Jace was no stranger to getting into fights, but he was a stranger to getting into fights with Maryse and Robert. They adored him too much, ever the golden child who could do nothing wrong. Not even bonding with Valentine’s daughter, apparently.

Alec killed the bitterness as soon as it rose up. Whatever happened with his mark, whatever his parents felt about his soulmate, it was his and his alone. It had nothing to do with Jace, Izzy, and Max, and their soulmates.

As though summoned through sheer force of never wanting to speak to him again, Robert Lightwood appeared in the doorway. “Alec,” he called, hovering. “Can we talk?”

Jace offered a sympathetic look and waved him off to meet his demise. Alec grimaced back at him.

In the hallway, Robert spent a good minute staring at the wall behind his son instead of his son before he finally said, “Did you put any more thought into the marriage?”

Alec stared at him. He couldn’t process what he was hearing. He blinked twice, just to make sure that was really what his father had chosen to open with, and then took a very long time sorting through all of his feelings and all of the terrible things he could say.

“No,” he settled on finally. He had to bite it out through a clenched jaw. “No, sorry. I was too focused on making sure my sister wasn’t going to be banished for the rest of her life.”

Robert sighed, like he was tired of Alec’s antics. Like Alec had antics to be tired of, like he hadn’t spent two decades being the perfect, placating son. “What reason do you have not to? It doesn’t have to be Lydia. There are a few other girls who would do just fine, too. You can meet them all and decide which is the best fit for you.”

“Right, I’ll just have my pick of the litter,” Alec said, enraged. If anyone spoke about Isabelle or anyone he knew like that, like they were stock at an auction just waiting to be bid on, Alec would’ve destroyed them. Passive aggressively, by assigning them the shittiest stations for the rest of eternity and making sure all of their shifts coincided with anything fun that might be going on, so they would never enjoy another day in their life. If he were still the head of the Institute, that was.

Robert had the decency to finally look uncomfortable. “Stop being difficult, Alexander.”

“Okay,” Alec replied. “Then, if you need an answer right now, the answer is a very enthusiastic no.”

His father huffed, pursing his lips at him. He looked his son up and down, appraising him and not liking what he saw. Then, a terrible frown furrowed his brow as he peered at Alec’s face. “You’re seeing someone. That’s why.”

It wasn’t a question, so Alec didn’t treat it like one. Seeing someone was so far down the list of things Alec was doing or cared about doing right now, but Robert would always believe whatever he wanted to, and Alec wasn’t about to try to explain that the real reason he didn’t want to get married was because he was gay, and he had a soulmate, and he was starting to think the family name should just burn itself to the ground, and he couldn’t look at his parents without wanting to burn himself down with it.

“Don’t we have more important things to focus on? Like, I don’t know, Valentine.”

Sighing, Robert reluctantly let it go. Not without one final comment, though. “Whoever it is, they must not be appropriate or you would’ve told us already. This family can’t take anymore disgrace, Alec.”

Alec stared after him, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

In the doorway to the infirmary, Jace leaned out and said, emphatically, “He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. Hypocrite.”

“Yeah,” Alec muttered, but he was suddenly feeling less upset than he had been. “You’re right.”

#shmb2021 #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #my writing

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marisbugs · 6 years ago

Text

call me by your name // tilda x john

⤗ ao3 (see for notes and inspirations)

Names have magic power. They protect, scaring away evil. They also haunt, becoming a curse. Johnson. Dillard. Stokes. Had things worked out differently, she would have had a completely different name now. But it’s hard to make history, and it’s even harder to rewrite it. What’s done is done.

Mamie Johnson cared for her as if she was her own although insisted that she shouldn’t forget who her real mother was. Tilda nodded obediently because she knew she had to, because she knew it was the right thing to do. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force herself to love a strange woman from the photo she kept in her bedside table, secretly wishing that one day Mamie would earnestly call her her daughter.

She sorted out her priorities when she grew up. Her love for the Johnsons didn’t lessen but she understood why Mamie kept telling her that her birthmother was Mariah – she didn’t want Tilda to forget her roots, forget who she was and where she came from. Because it’s so important to know that you’re not alone, that generations after generations of your ancestors are backing up every step of your life. No matter what people they were, what they did – family came first. Always.

That’s why she decided to follow in her father’s footsteps. She set herself a goal to become as generous and selfless as Jackson Dillard was – to help people without awaiting something in return. With her life, she wanted to honour his memory, to do him justice, to crown him with immortality. And maybe – just maybe – to win if not love, but at least respect of the woman who was called her mother even if she never actually acted like one.

She should have known that this undertaking of hers was doomed from the start – their relationship with Mariah was doomed. Every time when it seemed that they’d moved one step forward, something always took them two, if not three, steps back. So was the life, apparently. However, even after all these years – after she’d left her in somebody else’s care and then moved on to forgetting her entire existence – they still kept trying. Because family came first, didn’t it? Always.

It all fell into place when Mariah told her the truth. At first, she refused to believed it for it would have been so much easier if it turned out that the woman’d made it all up, said it out of spite to get under her skin, to drag her in the mud, to hurt her, to humiliate her. But the look on Mariah’s face spoke louder than words; she saw shame in her eyes, she saw suffering and disgust, and, more importantly, anger. At Pete, at Mable, at herself, even at Cornell. And at her, nearly most of all at her. Something inside her broke, but at least she understood now. Everything that had ever happened to her finally made sense. The picture became whole. The last piece of the puzzle pierced right through her heart.

Jackson Dillard turned out to be the same fiction as the loving Johnsons – the family she had never been a part of, not really. Thus, Tilda Johnson as well as Tilda Dillard were fakes. Only Tilda Stokes was real.

Mariah had hoped that changing the name would help her to run away from herself, from her shameful past, the shady family business, even shadier history. Naivety that wasn’t typical of her always so calculating mother. For some reason, Tilda realized much faster that you couldn’t run away from the thing that coursing through your veins. There was no escape.

Everyone had their own cross to bear, and it just happened that her own was imprinted right under her skin.

She hadn’t had a clue that it was possible to hate so strongly, so deeply, so furiously. She always thought herself to be above prejudice, above all that Shakespearean family feud, vendettas and stuff like that that her relatives, who she’d never wished to have anything in common with, were engrossed in. And look at her now. The irony of fate in all its deadly glory. She wanted to climb up the wall or better – crawl in a hole and never see the light of day ever again. She didn’t feel like she deserved anything better. The child of incest and rape – a Stokes twice over.

She knew, however, that she would muster up her willpower sooner or later. She would keep on doing what she had been doing, what she thought was right, and would console herself by thinking that none of that mattered (but of course it mattered, it all mattered). “Family comes first”. Bullshit.

A bit more of that – and she would throw up.

Looking at him, she couldn’t help thinking about all the things her family was to blame for: the McIvers’ murder, the massacre at “Gwen’s” – all of them were just the tip of the iceberg of the sequence of crimes, each of those had ruined someone’s life. And she – oh, she was one – no, two – hundred percent responsible for it. If he wished to kill each and every one of the Stokes family, he should definitely start with her. A pure product born out of filth and vice hardly deserved the right to exist.

“I’m so sorry,” she said and she didn’t lie. She truly was sorry – and not only for those innocent who’d died. She felt sorry for those who’d survived as well, doomed to live day by day with the excruciating pain of loss. She felt sorry for John. And a little – for herself.

But she wasn’t going to indulge her weaknesses and drown in self-pity. She just wanted to erase that cursed name from her life, well aware that it was impossible, that for that to happen she’d have to turn herself inside out, to replace every cell in her body. She wasn’t going to repeat her mother’s mistakes, but maybe, she didn’t have a choice. Maybe, she was doomed.

“I just can’t figure out why you still haven’t killed me.” Tilting her head a little, she looked at him without fear, curious.

“You heal me,” he chuckled. Then added after some contemplation, “And I like you.”

Frowning, she shook her head. She cared about him, but she wasn’t ready to receive the same care in return. She didn’t believe she deserved it.

“You wouldn’t have said that if you knew the truth.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as though she was about to jump into ice cold water – or the flames of hell. “My father… My father isn’t Jackson Dillard. It’s Pete Stokes.”

When she opened her eyes at last, afraid of lingering silence, he stood so very close to her, not even moving. She didn’t know what to think, but there was no anger in his eyes – at least, not at her. He traced his finger down her cheek tentatively, and her body shivered. She swallowed.

“I’m a pureblood Stokes, an abomination…” He didn’t let her finish, putting his thumb to her lips.

“You wouldn’t have said that if you knew the truth.” His smile was scarcely perceptible as she looked at him examiningly. “I like you the way you are.”

And maybe, it was all she needed to hear.

She offered him a poison, but also a chance to have his revenge, to redeem himself. She didn’t want him to die, but after all, death was the ultimate freedom. The roads we take all lead to it eventually.

Deep down, she hoped she would be able to save him.

She was right, but now the load of responsibility rested on her shoulders. It was her turn to administrate justice, pledging her soul to the devil. But what had to be done had to be done, and no one but her could put an end to all that was started so long ago. Cornell killed Pete, Mariah killed Cornell, and it was only logical that now she killed Mariah. The circle was complete. Out of all the damned Stokes, only she remained alive.

“You miss me?” Conditioned air nicely cooled her skin, hot with Jamaican sun, and she grinned – maybe, too widely for it to be dismissed as something trivial.

“No.”

She snorted, sweeping her quizzical eyes over John who was sitting on the couch – a feeling of déjà vu was almost palpable.

“Liar.”

“Guilty as charged,” conceded he with a half-smile.

She sank into a chair across from him and watched him – more likely, scrutinized him with her doctor’s eye. He looked healthy – or, at least, much healthier than when they saw each other last. Nightshade actually helped him, it seemed. Tilda half-expected it to kill him, seeing how the previous overdoses had caused his body almost irreparable damage. Perhaps, he really was special.

“It’s over, Johnny,” finally said she, looking him in the eye. “Mariah is dead, and the last Stokes has died with her.”

Except for me, she wanted to add, but she’d meant what she’d said – she was tired of atoning for her mother’s sins, especially now, when she could so well do it herself in hell, right where she belonged. Tilda had enough those of her own; she didn’t need to overload herself.

He nodded slowly.

“The last one, huh?” asked he, challenging. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “”Who are you, then?”

“I don’t know,” she snorted a good-natured laugh. “Why don’t you name me?”

Something in his eyes changed, and if it had happened before, she would have surely wanted to run away, but now she was, in fact, ready to dive in headfirst. Mariah was wrong yet again. Tilda would never be alone.

John reached out his hand, and she leaned forward, reducing the distance between them. He pulled her close to him, basically forcing her to fall. When she caught her breath enough to look up, her eyes lingered on his lips inadvertently before travelling to his own. They were so full of emotion that her breath seized up again; but perhaps, it was due to his heartbeat that she felt with her skin – and deep under. Their hearts seemed to get in tune with each other. She wondered if he felt it too.

“You’re entrusting me with large responsibility, huh, T?” He didn’t ask, merely stating it as a fact. His voice was low. “But I think I can come up with something.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

Deep down, she realized that the climax was inevitable – that their hearts were beating too loudly, their pulses were too quick, the distance between them was disappearing too rapidly; a discharge of electricity overwhelmed her, nevertheless, rooting her to the spot, and she wouldn’t be able to escape, even if she tried.

She didn’t.

He lifted her up as if she was something evanescent and delicate, took her to the bedroom and laid her down on a double bed. For some reason, Tilda wasn’t even surprised to see the black sheets – it was minimalistic, elegant, and, first of all, dramatic. Her lips curled into a soft smile.

He took off his shirt, but there was nothing new for her to see; his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, his tattoos – she had already seen it all when she healed him, trying to bring him back from the dead. Her eyes were trained to look for injuries, and her medical practice had taught her to regard a human body just as a machine with so many functions she was supposed to keep operating. He, on the other hand, watched her rather eagerly. She allowed a low chuckle past her lips and slipped off her thin shirt, letting it fall on the floor beside the bed. Then she bent over to remove her jeans, but he gently pushed her hands away, urging her to lie down again. She silently obliged, somewhat intrigued. He traced his fingers across her arms and shoulders and down her chest and stomach; he kissed her collarbones, then shifted, moving down. Taking her jeans off of her as if she was made of the finest porcelain, he kept on caressing her legs, her feet, every now and then leaving heated wet kisses on her delicate skin. With a fleeting touch to her inner thigh, he moved back up, tracing the curves of her lips with his thumb.

“How can you be so lethal when you are so gentle?” She clutched at the sheets, her blood bubbling with excitement. “I know… You’re Erzulie, that’s right.”

“Then you’re out of luck, aren’t you?” She grinned, propping herself up on her elbows. “I’ll try not to murder you in your sleep.”

He shook his head, unfazed.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as you come when I call for you.”

It was the only thing that really mattered anyway.

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