#but that wasn’t an option so he did war crimes instead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ashestoashes7 · 4 months ago

Note

Aaron and Kevin & no. 20. Personality swap, because I can think of nothing funnier than Aaron suddenly being obsessed with exy and everyone having to deal with that 🤭

Reverie - ao3 version

Aaron and Kevin wake up wrong. The Foxes investigate.

cw: implied/referenced child abuse

cw: implied/referenced homophobia

The world fell to ruins on a Tuesday.

Some might claim such a declaration erred on the side of dramatic, but the entirety of the Palmetto State Foxes declared it to be so upon laying eyes on the latest conundrum. Personally, Aaron didn’t see it.

No meteor fell from the sky and flattened the Palmetto area to an orange-speckled pulp, instead starting similarly to most days: with the most annoying alarm clock known to man. A familiar thump cut off the ringing, Matt’s groan sounding off after which Aaron typically took as a sign to attempt to depart from the waking world until Kevin decided to treat the hallway like his personal rage room.

For once, Aaron did not fall back to the tempting curve of his pillow. He turned to place his feet on the floor and pulled himself out of bed, a strange well of excitement bubbling up where reluctance was usually awaiting. It was not that Aaron hated Exy, but waking up at six in the morning for practice with the likes of Kevin Day and Neil Josten usually wasn’t the most enticing of options when his bed was right there.

Early mornings left most of them lethargic, but Josten and Day didn’t follow such human rules of the world. Their enthusiastic energy was ready from the moment the word ‘Exy’ entered their obsessive brains; Aaron had never understood it before. Even with Josten, Kevin’s enthusiasm had yet to find a true match—Josten was held back by Andrew-related reasons Aaron refused to contemplate—but with a new passion humming through his bones, Aaron thought he might just be the perfect match.

Matt dawdled in bed, but Aaron, to his bleary-eyed disbelief, coaxed him out until they were both dressed and standing in an unusually empty hallway. Aaron walked over to the nearest window to see if the others had already left to get in even more time on the court, an understandable pursuit, but the Maserati was parked in the exact same place it had been left yesterday. Aaron stuck his head out a little further, but there was no waft of cigarette smoke to indicate Andrew was waiting nearby for Josten and Kevin to finish squabbling.

Aaron would have to do it himself. A glance at Aaron was all it took for Matt to begin his trudge back toward their room. Aaron stared after him, quizzical. Sacrificing Exy for a few more minutes of sleep wasn’t an option worth considering, but Aaron did not elect to share his wisdom. He could remember when he had been similarly misguided.

Aaron closed the window and walked to the door where the only two people who could possibly understand the incessant need to have a racquet in hand should have been waiting. For the first time since Kevin had joined the Palmetto State Foxes, no sound drowned out his footsteps as he trailed closer to the source of the mystery.

Aaron knocked loudly twice before pulling the door open. All that awaited on the other end was various degrees of annoyance from the freshly roused occupants. Aaron knew from experience that Kevin was in charge of the alarm because otherwise it would be snoozed into what he once thought was pleasant lateness.

Kevin’s alarm clock was on the ground, tilted in a manner that suggested it had been tossed away. The scene was far more shocking than if Aaron had stumbled into an active crime scene. The one time Aaron had fiddled with the alarm clock Kevin had lost his mind in a way even Andrew wasn’t spared from. The petty war of retaliation had been bothersome.

Aaron frowned. After a moment of consideration, he slammed his hand against the wall with enough force a resultant sting bit at his palm. Everyone shot up, looking to be in various stages of conspiracy to commit and cover up his murder.

Aaron ignored them, unimpressed. “Get up! Maybe we can actually make it to practice on time today if you don't dawdle around.”

“What the fuck, Aaron?” Kevin muttered, drawing a hand back through his hair in annoyance. How he could look that attractive with a bedhead that would render Aaron unable to go into public without receiving a much different type of stare was one of the world’s greatest mysteries. Kevin made an aborted motion for where his alarm clock usually sat and then flopped back down with an exaggerated groan. “Practice can wait. Give us five more minutes.”

The descent of Andrew’s head toward his pillow came to a sudden halt. Neil’s rightly enthusiastic swing out of bed froze with his eyes glued on where Kevin unknowingly attempted to slumber away. Andrew reached a hand down to his side, pulled out a pen, put the cap on it, and threw it at Kevin’s head.

Kevin sat up with a curse and a pillow chucked at Andrew. Neil caught it before it could hit him. Andrew blinked back, unimpressed. “Have you finally given up on Exy, Day?”

Kevin ignored him. Andrew’s stare darkened.

“What?” Aaron asked, disbelieving. “We’re here for the court. Missing practice for such a mundane reason is a bad habit you shouldn’t even start to make. Kevin agrees with me—”

Kevin shook his head and murmured sounds of dissent.

The sound of Neil landing off-balance on the floor interrupted him before Aaron could say anything else. “Are you possessed?”

“No.”

Aaron dragged his eyes around until he found the set of keys belonging to Andrew. He didn’t move to grab them. Yet.

Neil turned to look at Andrew. “What day is today?”

“Tuesday.”

“No, is it that prank day Allison was talking about? The one where everyone lies and Aaron pretends to be Kevin?”

“There is no day like that,” Andrew replied, starting up a bout of intense eye contact between them that Aaron did not desire to interpret.. “It isn’t April”

Neil tilted his head and looked over at Aaron as if expecting him to go back on anything he had said. "Are you sure you’re not possessed?”

“I’m not possessed, Josten. If you’re to agree with me on one thing I’d think it would be this,” Aaron said, snatching up the car keys and stepping back into the doorway. He met Andrew’s doubtful eyes with a determination he wasn’t sure he could back up. “If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m taking the Maserati to the court. I will not let your inability to function impede my practice.”

“Kevin?” Neil asked, casting a glance between them as if expecting the words Aaron was speaking to have come from the best striker in Class 1 Exy. Instead, the best striker in Class 1 Exy waved his hands in a ‘do what you want’ gesture and sunk back into the mattress.

Aaron didn’t stay long enough to see green eyes peeking open to follow his exit or to hear the words exchanged between the room’s other occupants.

Ten minutes passed. Aaron didn’t take the Maserati.

Another day he might have done it to spite the doubt that had painted itself across Josten’s face and the lesser degree of skepticism given away by Andrew’s lack of rapid movement, but the idea refused to turn itself into action. With such potent determination coursing through his veins he thought it to be a real possibility, but when he moved toward the building exit with the keys in hand he just couldn’t do it. His hand settled on the doorknob before the thought struck some intrinsic chord of wrongness that had his feet refusing to take him to where the car waited.

A weight settled in his chest as if someone had placed a barbell over where his lungs lay in their abnormally rapid movement. Uneasiness wrapped itself in his chest and refused to take one step toward something filled with so many ‘what ifs’. Andrew wouldn’t hurt him, but Aaron didn’t want him to hate him, either. Betsy would have a field day with the question of what the car associated inextricably with Josten would be worth compared to Aaron.

Aaron did not know how to drive the Maserati, but he tried to convince himself waiting in the car for their arrival would provoke a much more pleasant response. His feet refused to move and his heartbeat sped up to an unsteady thrum far more violent than he was used to. Indecision clogged up his throat and plucked out any words he could have thought to say.

Aaron wrapped a hand loosely around the base of his neck and slid two fingers up to check his pulse—fast. Unfortunately, the feel of the staccato beneath his fingers did not force the unusual and unwelcome phenomenon into a recession.

This was new; he didn’t like it.

Anger fought past the invisible challenge unwillingly foisted upon him until he was taking the stairs two at a time and stood face-to-face with a beleaguered Matt. He ignored the slight twinge of uneasiness that arose when he chucked the keys into an open drawer and stalked toward the taller man.

“Drive me,” Aaron said with enough confidence that Matt’s mouth snapped shut.

Matt picked up his phone and was in the middle of shooting off a text when Aaron wrapped a hand around his wrist and began tugging him toward the door. A noise of surprise followed by a smothered laugh sounded off behind Aaron, but he paid them no mind. While he wouldn’t break as many laws as Andrew, Matt could get him to the court fast enough to sate the stilted tap of his fingers.

All at once, there was something wrong about the lack of Exy equipment within his grasp and something horribly long about the distance between where the inner court awaited him and where Matt stalled. It was a limb he hadn’t known was missing until he’d woken up with the wound seared into his every movement. He needed to run his fingers over the knots in the net of his racquet, run until his legs ached, live and breathe Exy until the gnawing emptiness narrowed into something more manageable.

If this was what Kevin felt, Aaron could understand why a rare sort of life bled into his every movement when surrounded by plexiglass walls and the red light of victory. There was something more than just wrong about the broken routine—his whole world was knocked off kilter by the minuscule difference between typical and today.

Aaron was more awake than he had ever been for morning practice, adrenaline rising in the sort of anticipation he had never felt before. He needed to be at the court with the same intrinsic severity as he needed his next breath.

Aaron liked Exy. The first day he stayed late and trailed to the run-down gym to watch from the bleachers, he knew the desire was inevitable. He wanted to be a teammate but even more than that he wanted to wear a jersey with his name on the back and feel the warmth of his mother’s approval.

When Aaron wheedled a ticket out of the coach with a promise he would consider joining, he was seated amongst proud parents who cheered through every success and hardship. They pointed at their children in pride rather than disapproval, and Aaron wanted that. A spark of hope lit within him that day; it died soon after. His mother didn’t care, but Aaron never stopped liking Exy even when Andrew was better. Even when Andrew was the one who became wanted.

There was a very short list of things Aaron liked. He wouldn’t let jealousy whittle it down to a number small enough to fit on one hand. Andrew and Exy remained next to each other in fourteen-year-old handwriting as hopeful as when he had first scrawled it on a piece of paper that was now tucked away in the crack of a drawer.

Aaron liked Exy, but he also knew what addiction felt like. He did not appreciate the similarities.

Aaron walked back down with Matt’s wrist in his grasp, not faltering until they stood in front of a blue pickup truck. Aaron’s hand was wrapped around the door handle before Matt had even fumbled the key out of his pocket and received a raised eyebrow. Aaron slipped in the passenger side the moment the door was unlocked, closing it before Matt’s hand had even settled on his handle.

Surprise flitted across Matt’s face. “You're eager.”

“It’s Exy,” Aaron replied like that explained everything.

“Hello, Kevin,” Matt joked with a pass at friendliness that was new enough to have them both wincing. It took Matt until the second stoplight they encountered to work up the gall to meet Aaron’s eyes again.

Aaron tapped his foot impatiently as if the light too would grow tired of the soft thuds and turn from red to green. He was unsurprised when it didn’t listen. Matt’s face contorted into something resembling a glare, but he didn’t say anything. Aaron didn’t stop.

“So,” Matt started once the light had turned, “did you and Kevin make a bet? Switch out for the day and see how long it takes the rest of us to notice? ‘Cause, believe me, we’ve noticed.”

“What’s wrong with all of you? Am I not allowed to like it?” Aaron infused a challenge into his tone.

“It’s six in the morning,” Matt implored, the hand not set on the steering wheel moving about emphatically to illustrate the absurdity he found in the statement. “You are not a morning person.”

“It’s Exy,” Aaron repeated because it was the only answer he could think to give. Exy was everything—survival, joy, a chance at a family that wasn’t six feet deep or loathing his very existence before they had even met. Exy was a believable enough excuse that could placate the hard questions from parents, teachers, and coaches with whom the truth wasn’t an option.

Backliners bruised easily, and no one thought to look too deeply into why Aaron’s equipment elicited more than a perfunctory wince no matter the break between games or practices. The few adults persisting past the blockade he attempted to erect were met with a new volley of excuses: a stick-check gone wrong, stray Exy ball, inconveniently administered check that refreshed old bruises.

For so long, Exy had been one of the only things Aaron had for himself. How could he not love it?

Matt shook his head and bit his lip in the way Aaron had learned he did when waiting for someone to say the punchline of a joke. Aaron held his tongue and stared pointedly out the window, unwilling to waste his words on someone so intent on misinterpreting them.

It wasn’t a joke.

Aaron was used to falling into the category of unknowable entities. He didn't mind it back when he thought it to be temporary. Walking into high school with a doppelganger at his back for the first time and a slew of curious eyes following him in eerie silence had been a novel experience. Aaron had almost been able to convince himself he was some sort of protagonist, that the distant stares were a brief lapse before he was once again folded into the outskirts of their social circles.

A week later, he knew he was wrong. Andrew made sure of that.

If he wore long sleeves or the uncovered skin of his wrists was not visible, even the classmates who occasionally deigned to talk with him devoutly pretended he didn’t exist. In California and Columbia and Palmetto, Aaron was an extension of Andrew even if they had known him first. Andrew liked it better that way; Aaron didn’t.

The Foxes were an interesting dilemma to face after Neil crash-landed through every barrier drawn between them by circumstance and willful discord. Contrary to what a PSU Fox poll that for legal reasons Allison never created would have indicated, Aaron didn’t loathe the rest of the Foxes even without the newfound energy that painted anything Exy-related in vivid multicolor and outlined their faults in glaring red.

Matt was nicer to him than he deserved—than any of them did. With his mind back in Columbia watching Andrew’s latest attempt at isolation play out, Aaron wondered how Matt could even bear to look at any of them. Aaron knew the feeling of the betrayal Andrew had orchestrated—family spinning the wheel of ‘not good enough’ and claiming it was for the best—and of the horrible relief that ensued after. Aaron was going to be a doctor, and Andrew made that possible. That didn’t mean Aaron would thank him.

When Josten had taken up in Andrew’s dorm, Aaron had been the first to suggest he be the one to move out. Surprisingly, Matt helped. While Josten might play mediator when it struck his fancy, Aaron would not have been one to reap the benefits of his actions. Matt held out the olive branch all on his own.

Matt didn’t hate them, so Dan would do it for the both of them. Aaron didn’t like Allison or the feeling of her nails digging into his skin, and Renee was incapable of feeling something as mundane as hatred. Aaron and Andrew were a package deal to all of them even over two years after a first meeting and the ensuing close proximity.

Aaron understood it, in a way. The moment the word ‘twin’ came into play Aaron and Andrew were inextricably linked together, and Aaron would take Andrew’s side over any of theirs no matter the isolation it brought. Aaron was raised to survive solitude; it didn't matter that he longed for a break from the horrendous pattern

Kevin had been the first anomaly. Their proximity had been born of pressure, at first. Kevin was constantly foisted upon Aaron in the dorms or the club or the backseat of Andrew’s car. Aaron hated him because Andrew, somehow, didn’t. Andrew, who turned his nose at any person Aaron associated with, who drew a knife at the briefest whim and sent all of Aaron’s newest attempts at friendship running for the hills, had changed the rules again. Andrew had Kevin, and Aaron could not afford to hate Andrew for it so he drew the sharp edge of his misery on a much easier target.

Kevin was the face he pinned to the dartboard. Kevin, who made his stance firmly on the grounds of eternal disapproval. Kevin, who slotted himself into every place Aaron was meant to fill. Kevin, whose only goal had ever really been Andrew. Before he became a Fox, Aaron watched the Ravens’ games often and accidentally found his way to Kevin’s interviews. He wrote a two on a piece of paper, remembered green eyes glancing over him in disinterest once they had caught the five on his back, and pretended it didn’t sting.

Aaron had thought it inevitable that Kevin would take his brother away. Kevin had Andrew’s attention from the moment he walked in a room—their highschool court, their dorm room, Eden’s Twilight—and made promises that Andrew followed up with a blinding smile. Every moment Kevin was allowed at Andrew’s side and as his confidant felt like a taunt. Kevin was always going to take Andrew away; Aaron just didn’t expect to be there to watch the chasm widen.

Aaron fell into Kevin’s orbit by accident.

Kevin had been curled up on his bed, left hand clenched in front of him, and Andrew had been off to who knows where from which he would eventually come back smelling so heavily of cigarettes that Aaron walked out. Perhaps Aaron had spent a great portion of the day discussing the influence of bedside manner with Katelyn or perhaps he had simply been curious, but some force only hindsight would make him thankful for tugged him away from his textbook and over to Kevin’s side.

Aaron had been with Abby when she looked over Kevin’s hand and had seen the look on his face when the only assurance she could provide him was ‘I have hope’. Kevin looked broken for a moment, but the smile was back in an instant. Right back to the Queen of the Court, to the perfect media darling victim of a skiing accident gone wrong that wasn’t really an accident at all.

The plastic smile was long gone when Aaron circled close enough to catch more of Kevin’s facial features. He looked the same sort of empty that Midnight Nicky tried so valiantly to hide. Aaron had sat on the bed and made up bullshit Exy facts until color came back to his face. It was only when Aaron dared to call Jeremy Knox a disgrace to Exy that Kevin’s eyes sharpened and he began to prod back with a prepared defense whose verbosity could have filled Aaron’s most recent English assignment.

That was the day Aaron learned how hard it was to hate Kevin Day. He tried but suddenly Kevin was everywhere Aaron was even when Andrew had made himself scarce. Staring, watching, and critiquing the way Aaron moved his wrist until Aaron fought back with venomous words or music loud enough to offend Kevin’s delicate sensibilities.

Kevin offered for Aaron to join night practices, once, before Josten was even a blip on the map. He looked so pr—proper and smug that Aaron could do nothing but spit out a harsh refusal.

Looking upon the Foxhole Court with new eyes, Aaron couldn’t believe he had turned down such a momentous opportunity out of what, spite? Exhaustion? Fear that if he looked a little too long into bright green eyes the thoughts in his head would escape beyond the acceptable bounds?

At the end of a freshly opened bottle, his mother had once told him the only thing he did right was be straight. He hated being a disappointment almost as much as he hated Kevin’s lips stretching into that heart-rate-spiking smile. Kevin was dangerous in too many ways to count. He was Andrew’s, he was tied up in chains handcrafted by the same Ravens who had almost and actually gotten Andrew, and he was far too attractive to be a safe place for Aaron to rest his gaze. It was wishful thinking to believe that knowledge would dull the blaze that threatened to consume them both, but Aaron had always been told he was idealistic.

There was one reliable route Aaron could rely on when his eyes strayed a little too long: Kevin was an asshole. He was as Exy-obsessed as he was filterless, and Aaron could draw upon a litany of vicious critiques to prompt a necessary resurgence of anger. If you hold your wrist like that, someone is going to break it. If you check me like you’re pushing through a high school hallway, Aaron, I am going to throw the next ball at your ankles. I thought you were better than this. I can do better with my non-dominant hand in a position I don’t play than you could ever hope to—

It was a tried and true method: add Exy to the equation of Kevin and come out the other end with far more subtlety than Andrew and Josten ever afforded the rest of the seeing world. The lingering and appreciative glance he cast over the freshly cleaned plains of the Foxhole Court told Aaron didn’t think that would work anymore.

An inaudible conversation erupted outside of the empty locker room while Aaron pulled his gear on at record speed. A key was already set into the orange door when Aaron reached it, and he pushed it open with a flourish he felt all the way down to his bones. The inner court was shrouded in too many shadows for Aaron to make out the details, but he closed his eyes and built its majesty up from hazy fragments of memory.

He had not been able to fully appreciate the refurbishments brought by Kevin’s arrival before, but Aaron braced the end of his racquet on the floor and imagined the swirls of bright orange and white arching up the court. The only noise came from a faint discussion out of earshot and his own breathing, but Aaron brought forth memories of the stadium filled to the brim. Crowds stretching up to the nosebleeds, plexiglass the only separation between the outside world and the one Aaron desperately longed to be a part of.

A voice called out from behind him, startling Aaron out of his silent reverie, and the familiar hum of electricity began to bring the court to life. The emergency lights beneath his feet gave an almost fairytale glow to the nearest home benches, but Aaron forced his eyes away toward the main event. Light trailed out from beneath his feet and bathed the court in a warm glow, framing a cinematic masterpiece he had lost appreciation of far too quickly.

The Foxhole Court was beautiful in a way words could never hope to encompass.

A grin stretched across Aaron’s face, real in a way he could barely begin to comprehend, and he started forward before a loud throat clearing caught his attention. He turned slowly, hesitant to put his back to the inner court, and met the eyes of a severely concerned David Wymack.

Aaron had seen a range of expressions on Wymack’s face: post break-in exasperation, Josten is starting shit annoyance, the sort of determination Kevin whispered to Aaron his mother would have loved. Despite the hell the Foxes and the world had put him through, Aaron had never seen such disturbed bewilderment displayed on Wymack’s visage.

Though Wymack was the easiest for Aaron to notice, he wasn’t the only face strewn with confusion. The rest of the Palmetto State Foxes lurked behind him, gazing at Aaron with horror comparable to his own whenever a particularly ill-informed freshman made some remark about his lips being anywhere close to Neil’s.

Aaron frowned as Wymack strode forward and examined him as if he were the type to recklessly hide his injuries the way Josten did. Aaron had borne witness to too many of Abby’s examinations and Andrew’s suspicious stares to risk needlessly exacerbating an injury. He was almost offended.

Footsteps sounded off to the side, and Aaron craned his neck to meet the assessing eyes of his twin. Andrew looked him over as if he were a stranger. “I told you there was something wrong with him.”

“What?” Aaron asked for what felt like the millionth time.

Nicky shot forward and made an exaggerated gesture to the lit-up stands surrounding them. “You looked at the court like Neil did the first time. Like Kevin every time he pushes open that door. We just want to know if you’re feeling okay, Aaron. Don’t look at me like that. Even you have to admit this is kinda weird,” Nicky stopped flailing about for a moment to swivel a finger between Kevin and Aaron. “Did you two switch places or something because I’ve got to say, I am not a fan.”

Kevin was the one to speak up in their defense. “For the last time, Nicky, no. Now if we aren’t going to be productive I would appreciate being able to spend the time your hair-brained assumptions are wasting on my classwork.”

Every eye that was once trained on Aaron shot back to Kevin. Not a single person was capable of looking gleeful when presented with such a contradictory picture: Kevin Day treating Exy as if it were a chore rather than a pleasure. Kevin drew his shoulders in at the attention, trying to appear smaller. It didn’t work.

“Do you need to see Abby?” Wymack asked. His voice was soft enough not to reach the

majority of the Foxes, but Andrew’s eyebrow ticked upwards at the mention.

“I’m fine,” Aaron assured, wincing the moment the words left his mouth. “I don’t understand the issue.”

The moment Kevin nodded his agreement, Andrew walked over to the nearest bench and laid down, uncaring for Wymack’s frustrations. Kevin didn’t say anything. The words that usually belonged to him sat on the tip of Aaron’s tongue until Allison let loose a vaguely horrified laugh.

“I’m calling Abby!” Dan declared, storming off to the locker room to do just that.

As she did so, Aaron trailed the rest of the way down to enter the inner court. It was far more stunning than the images his mind had drawn up. He rested his hand on the plexiglass and walked along the side until he reached the wall equivalent of his preferred starting position and waited for the others to join in. Josten was the only one to follow him, hauling out one of the barrels of Exy balls with him to make the stand-off more than just a staring contest.

The rest of the Foxes didn’t bother to involve themselves, glancing between where Aaron was giving his all and Kevin passed out on one of the benches as if this were some sort of twisted nightmare. In a way, Aaron agreed with them. He would much prefer to be going against a determined Kevin than Josten, but it appeared that wasn’t in the cards.

Kevin sporadically lifted his head to look in their general direction, but the moment he set a foot down to prop himself up his face twisted and he instead exerted his effort on tuning out the rest of the Foxes. Aaron couldn’t watch Kevin as much as he would have liked to. Trying to keep him in sight was a mistake Neil quickly took advantage of, and Aaron wasn’t willing to sacrifice the lightness permeating his every movement to watch Kevin attempt to starfish on a bench not made for such a thing.

Josten was fast but he was also confused. As he tried to force his way toward the open goal, Aaron recited the same critiques Kevin droned on and on about and watched Josten’s lips thin out into something almost resembling a snarl.

When Josten and Kevin collided, it was explosive but Josten was generally placated by the knowledge that every word Kevin spat out at him was done so for the sake of genuine improvement. When Aaron did it, it was a Molotov cocktail of advice and provocation that left Josten’s effort barely diverted to swinging in the hope of catching the rebound of the ball rather than clipping Aaron’s helmet.

Everything Aaron said was factually accurate, approved by Kevin Day himself with an occasional thumbs up or shouted explanation whenever Josten looked a little too close to throwing his precious racquet to the ground. Even as indisposed as he was, Kevin understood that to be sacrilege. Aaron would have been less amused by the thought if Kevin’s additions were not fully in support of Aaron telling Josten how to be a better striker.

Within the span of twenty minutes, the Foxes' death count miraculously did not tick up though it was a close thing. The moment Abby shuffled through the door, lowering the phone pressed to her ear at the same time Wymack did, Aaron was directed to strip out of his gear and join Kevin to be cordoned off in one of the offices like they were ground zero for some new contagion. A face would peer through the window occasionally—usually Nicky’s—only to vanish when Wymack reminded them that they were there to practice, not gawk like tourists at a zoo enclosure.

Aaron didn’t appreciate the comparison or the refusal to let him join in and had been hoping for some support in that regard, but Kevin seemed more resigned than angry.

After a few rudimentary tests, Abby stepped out to ‘give them some privacy’ which was code for ‘contemplating being the Foxes’ nurse for the one hundred and thirty-sixth time’. The Foxes stopped by for a short break, but any suggestions proposed by the team had been met with nothing more than exasperation and mild horror. Wymack had shooed them away before their proposed experiments could edge closer to ethically questionable solutions.

They left and took the hum of conversation with them. There was only so much silence Aaron could tolerate before he snapped, so he tossed torn-up bits of paper at Kevin until he was graced with his full attention. “Do you remember anything unusual we did last night?”

Kevin blinked tiredly at him until Aaron tore off another piece of a discarded envelope. As Aaron raised his hand to throw it, Kevin caught his wrist and glared. “I don’t know, Aaron. It must have been that magical potion we drank labeled ‘personality swap’.”

“No need to be an asshole.” Aaron flipped him off with the hand Kevin had captured.

Kevin glared at him with the promise of violence they both knew he wouldn’t fulfill. “You’re the asshole. If they’re to be believed, this is your asshole-ness.”

“Your mouth, your problem,” Aaron said distractedly as Kevin’s hand slid up from his wrist to link their fingers together.

Kevin’s eyes lit up. “That’s it!”

“We didn’t drink a potion, Kevin. Or get drunk. Magic doesn’t even exist. This is a waste of both of our times when the court is right th—”

“No, your mouth,” Kevin interrupted, holding up his other hand when Aaron frowned. “We kissed, remember?”

Aaron nodded slowly, a smile unfolding as Kevin’s cheeks flushed. “So my mouth is magic now, Day?”

Kevin absentmindedly tapped on Aaron’s palm. Aaron pulled back, unsure if that was Kevin’s way of signaling he wanted to end the brief point of contact, and was met with Kevin’s grabby hands reaching back out to recapture it. “To find that out, I think we need to do it again. For science.”

“For science?” Aaron repeated, skeptical.

Kevin nodded too emphatically to not have ulterior motives. “Don’t you trust yourself? Have a little faith.”

“That’s not how this works,” Aaron stated. “And that's even assuming we had some sort of personality transplant which isn’t only impossible but also—”

“How do you know?” Kevin shot back, encouraged by Aaron’s less-than-frosty reception. “Maybe I’m the one with the magic mout—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Aaron said, forward in a way he would usually shy away from.

Kevin’s words died off as his eyes glued themselves to Aaron’s lips. Aaron tapped the back of his palm twice, imploring Kevin to take up the challenge. He didn’t have to ask twice.

They came together like they were always meant to be. Kevin braced himself against the desk and Aaron slotted perfectly against him, reaching a hand back to card through his hair. When Aaron’s hand tugged lightly at brown strands upon Kevin’s movement, Kevin pressed him impossibly closer.

The moment Kevin’s hand cupped his chin in an attempt to deepen the kiss, the worst headache Aaron had ever experienced shot through him as if on cue. Aaron pulled away with a start, unsurprised to find Kevin in an equally shaken state. Aaron pressed a hand against his forehead, pain sparking through his body with an involuntary shout for a few agonizing seconds before the feeling vanished as quickly as it had emerged.

Kevin’s eyes fell back to Aaron’s, but before they could pick up where they left off the door burst open. Abby stood in the entryway, wide-eyed and concerned at the source of the sound that had drawn her back.

“We’re normal again,” Aaron said before Abby put her thoughts into words. He stepped away from Kevin before anyone with less respect for privacy could come barging in. “I’m leaving.”

“Practice has barely even started yet!” Kevin protested, a finger ghosting over his lips in what might have been awe before concern fell over his features. “We have the first match of the season in two weeks. Although they might not have the best track record, they have an unusual—”

Aaron made eye contact with Abby. The time he spent familiarizing himself with the aspects of her job she let him in on had made them close enough for her to read the exhaustion behind his eyes. Abby could be trusted to be sympathetic to his cause.

“Kevin,” Abby interrupted, far kinder than Aaron would have bothered with. “I believe it’s best if you both head back to the dorms to sleep off any potential side effects.”

Kevin’s mouth clicked shut. The response wasn’t outright denial, so Aaron prodded Kevin with his elbow and tried for a route that worked more often than it failed him. “Are you really going to risk it this close to a game?”

Kevin glared at him, seeing through it in an instant. “You just want to sleep.”

“You stole my sleep,” Aaron pointed out. “Literally. I think we’re all allowed a daily allowance of bench naps if even <i>you</i> want to indulge in them.”

Kevin’s face twisted into a grimace, and Aaron knew he was remembering everything he had said that wasn’t a declaration of love for his favorite sport. Aaron, having been provided a unique insight into the inner workings of Kevin Day, would have had more sympathy if he wasn’t about to pass out at any moment.

“Fine,” Kevin spat out in a tone that meant the next few days would more than make up for any time they missed for personality swap-related reasons. Unluckily for Aaron, Kevin Day was an asshole. Worse still, Kevin was beautifully passionate when he was acting particularly assholish. Aaron wanted to cave his face in. With his lips.

“I’ll drive you,” Abby suggested, not bothering to hide her grin.

Kevin and Aaron didn’t waste their time arguing about it. Through some overdue miracle, they managed to make it out without being accosted by another Fox. Kevin spent most of the drive staring out the window, focusing on nothing in particular as he ruminated on every word the Foxes would never forget him saying. Aaron met his reflection in his own window and imagined every worst-case scenario his twin and Josten would act out.

They were partners in a shared but distant misery.

Aaron tried to lay against the window, but his head bouncing into the hard windowpane was not an effective or pleasurable option so he soon gave up on that pursuit. He eyed Kevin’s position instead—the several boxes labeled ‘fragile’ taking up the passenger seat having relegated them both to the back—and pressed himself into the crook of his outstretched arm.

“What are you doing?” Kevin stage-whispered.

“I’m going to sleep,” Aaron replied with finality. He closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore the way the tension seeped out of Kevin’s frame the longer Aaron went without moving. Despite his exhausted predicament, the car ride was too short for him to actually drift off, so the moment Abby pulled the car into park Aaron was murmuring a sleepy “Thank you” and pushing open the door.

Kevin followed him upstairs, not saying a word until Aaron went to slam the door in his too-pretty face. “You did well at practice today. The progress you made based on the improved hold I demonstrated was exactly as I predicted. If you continue on—”

“Kevin,” Aaron said, drawing his name out as long as Nicky did when calling for him within the Columbia house. “My muscles hate me right now. And you. I am suffering beyond your comprehension. You got your beauty sleep, someone is going to die if I don’t get mine.”

“While the memories are still fresh is the perfect time to go over the merits of the adjustments you made today,” Kevin stated, voice taking on a serious tone betrayed by the teasing smile he didn’t bother to stifle. “Who are you planning to kill?”

“Neil,” Aaron said immediately. “Wait, no. You. Definitely you.”

“Adorable,” Kevin replied. “Save it for after we discuss the ineffective placement of your feet during turns.”

Aaron moved to pull the door closed, but Kevin stuck his foot further in between. Aaron stepped on his foot. Kevin laughed.

“Fuck you,” Aaron declared without heat.

“Later?” Kevin asked, momentarily taken aback by his own boldness.

Aaron walked further into the room, leaving the door ajar. He stared into the mess the morning had made of his pillows. “Fuck. You.”

“Not later?” Kevin put forth, muffling laughter behind a loose smile.

Aaron threw a pillow at his head; Kevin dodged because of course he did.

He left before Aaron picked up a textbook.

#kevaaron #kevin day #aaron minyard #personality swap au #aftg #all for the game #psu foxes #aftg fic #exy

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hulloitsdani · 5 months ago

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My Silly Askr Trio Team Builds!! Yippee!!

Warning before going in; I am going full nerd mode here. But like, the math kind. The nerd who likes the gameplay mechanics of anime war crimes chess game that’s really a math game in a trench coat. I also do not claim that any of these builds are good, just that I’ve had fun playing and making them. Also also I’m entirely free to play.

So without further ado, oh no I like playing Heroes actually:

First off; Brave Princess Veronica!!! Who is technically not part of the trio but I needed a fourth!!!

I haven’t really built her in the same way I’ve tinkered with the others. But I put a lot of thought into who to round out the squad with and I think she was the best option I could have picked.

Since the goal of this squad is the difficulty, I didn’t want the fourth party member to be a significantly better unit than the other three. I didn’t want any overshadowing or a clutch. They also had to be from Heroes. Hopefully a mage of some kind so we had magical damage on the board. But most importantly, I needed a support unit.

Now I classify a support unit in FEH as a unit who is purpose built to support others on the squad. Be that through healing, dancing, or Lilith repositioning Altina straight into enemy fire and watching how the stat buffs she provides render attacks against Altina null and pure crit building fodder. Brave Veronica is a fantastic support when EVERY BUFF COUNTS. Now the move pool I have to pick from for these guys has grown exponentially and I have slowly accumulated the resources to buff their stats. But this wasn’t always the case! Each story map clear used to be a struggle and the rallying/debuff effect she gives post attacking would be the difference at times. She fit right into the play style I was having fun with and gave the Askr trio a fighting chance. Also don’t judge that seal I have more important units to put the better skills on and honestly she could use the health.

Up next, my pretty outdated Alfonse!!! How many Brazens can I give this dude!!

So remember how I said every buff was important with these three? This load out is a fantastic example for what I mean. Over time, I have gained the materials to buff the crap out of Alfonse’s stats. The flower cap got higher, traits became a thing, then ascended traits became a thing, add some summoner support in there and now I have an Alfonse with workable stats. But this was not always the case! And you can see the remains of this with the speed refine on his sword.

In case it’s not clear yet, I don’t change the weapons these guys have. I only refine them. And god damn Alfonse had NO SPEED and it was KILLING HIM. Don’t let that 40 speed fool you that’s the ascended trait. I did not know until building Askr trio that every time a unit has low speed, FEH equips them with a skill to ensure that they can still double. Alfonse didn’t have this, I’m too free to play for the skill fodder game, and I have a life outside this game. So I kept running into this problem where he would actually have the stats to kill, but could not consistently double, so he’d die. Speed on Fólkvangr was the solution I came up with. Then I got the ascended trait thingy and decided to never worry about his speed again. But at this time I don’t have the material to refine his weapon into something else so it’s still speed lmao.

Reposition is my favorite skill in game and I have never needed rally skills more than with this team. The perk with movement rally skills is that it rallies two units instead of one, and as previously stated, Alfonse needed the speed buffs. So Spd/Def Link (gives +6 to both stats on both units when movement skill was used) was the best and only option I had.

Now infantry rush (infantry allies within 2 spaces get +1 special cooldown per attack if Atk stat is higher than their enemy) was a bit of a mixed skill for this group when I first equipped it, but it made him fun to use with my main groups in other game modes. Alfonse giving student Edelgard that little boost before repositioning her into enemy lines was a very fun combo. And although it didn’t help every time, giving the Askr trio grander opportunities to crit is NEVER a waste. It can be the difference.

Also 60 Health. Brazen Skill. What more must I say. He reaches a certain health threshold and kills everything in a ten mile radius.

Next up: Anna!!! My beloved commander!!! Who can actually take a god damn hit!!!

Here you can see my two brain cells finally coming together to give Anna a gimmick. And that gimmick is friends plus frenzy.

So the perk of Anna is that she can kinda go wherever you want her to, if that makes sense. I feel like with Alfonse, he kinda wants to be built tanky and it was extremely easy to slap 3 brazen Atk/Def on him. But with Anna, I have not touched her traits beside a weapon buff to her pitiful attack stat, so this is her basic stat spread plus 20 flowers. There are most definitely builds taking advantage of things like her higher res, but I honed on her speed because that’s the one I had skills for.

Spd/Def form (if unit is in two spaces from an ally when entering combat, the will get a buff to those two stats based on the number of allies nearby) was serving Sharena pretty well, so I thought I’d give Anna the Atk/Spd variant. A lot of this group’s buffs comes from being nearby each other, so it fit pretty well. Decided to make those two stats her focus. That lead to Atk/Spd oath 4, which does a few things but mainly she can now move to spaces next to allies two spaces from her and get buffed by standing next to them.

Then. Then I found Frenzy. Frenzy also does a few things, but put simply it’s a damage reduction skill based on her speed. And I just gave her skills that all raise her speed. And her other team members can further buff her speed. Needless to say, Anna just went from the weak link to a god damn menace. On a unit with a stat total greater than 201, this could probably render attacks null. But on Anna, it entirely solves her 26 def problem. Usually when a unit has those paper thin defenses, it’s usually to account for a busted attack stat on a ranged unit. Glass cannon and all that. But Anna is an axe unit who needs serious Atk support to even turn one another axe unit. It was the inverse of Alfonse’s Spd problem and it was rough. This skill gave her the tools to survive and I have never felt so freaking smart playing this game.

Last but certainly not least; Sharena!!! She’s never done anything wrong ever!!!!

Unlike the other two, Sharena has no glaringly obvious issues. She’s got no res but that’s not new; no one here has res! So just don’t put her in range of magic. But that meant I really didn’t know what to do with her until I figured out Anna. The null follow is evidence of this. I was running into issues with follow ups, so I just threw a skill that made that problem go away on Sharena without thinking about how that could go towards her build. And that was basically her role for a long time. A random collections of skills to serve team needs.

That changed with the discovery of how speed plays into damage reduction and I gave Sharena a similar build with a different goal. Anna is built to hit and run, while Sharena is built to tank for way longer than she was meant to. Spd/Def form and refined Fensalir give her bonuses to Spd/Def around allies. Repel does the same thing as Frenzy with more bonuses to Spd and the ability to push people back. Godlike Reflexes uses her Spd to say that this attack from a mage won’t kill actually. Deflect melee is even more damage reduction to every consecutive melee attack after the first. Atk Oath Echo, while a nice tiny boost to Atk, is there strictly to help Sharena keep up with Anna. Again, every buff counts and those two are S supported to eachother. Giving her a higher movement skill to match her was an excellent use of that fancy x skill don’t @ me.

The result of all that math is a Sharena who can tank things 60 hp triple brazen Alfonse can’t. If I can time my specials right, Sharena can survive would be fatal hits from foes purpose built to team wipe. She is my Hail Mary. 25 Res is now all she needs to save me from very scary mages and Veronica can heal her up afterwards (something I can’t always do to Alfonse because it would take him out of Brazen range).

So yeah! Those are my guys! My funny little team! Thanks to power creep feh is very easily a pay to win game, but using these guys made me use my brain and made story mode missions actually satisfying to clear. It’s how I personally have fun. Book 3 final boss map on Lunatic haunts me to this day and that’s how I know I’m doing it right.

Wish me luck, because I am not even remotely caught up on recent books. These builds are going to have to withstand that onslaught soon enough and I fear triple brazen Alfonse might finally go down.

I would love to see others builds. Would definitely recommend playing FEH’s story mode with what are essentially Pokémon level caps. Makes it fun. Makes it mean. Feel the power creep come to kick you in the shins.

As a reward for reading this far, a gift!!! An even grander sneak peak for that one Alfonse alt I am going crazy making!!!

This was a total accident but it looks like an awakening crit portrait and I couldn’t be happier.

#Terrifying thought that just came over me; could someone nuzlock feh?#Is that possible? I’m thinking that your ‘encounters’ could be gacha pulls only using orbs you get from clearing story mode.#Someone has to have done this. Please I cannot be the only one.#It would be too funny.#feh #feh Ted Talk #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem #alfonse #feh alfonse #fe alfonse #feh sharena #fe sharena #feh veronica #fe veronica #feh anna #fe anna

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 8 months ago

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Cover art by @/crazycookiemaniac

Summary: The battle continues, and Fuegoleon heads to the frontlines where Mereo already is.

Contains heavy manga spoilers from chapter 371!

A03 link

Pairing: Fuegoleon (CC) x Solara (OC) Fanfic type: Book/long fic Warnings: Mostly canon typical content, the battle/war themes are there, angst, Solara is still pregnant so themes of pregnancy (and considering where she left off last chapter... pretty massive angst; be mindful of this while reading), heavy manga spoilers

Tag list: @succulentsunrise @loosesodamarble

Word count: ~2,5k

Chapter 7: Sunlight's embrace

How… how can this be…? He asked from himself, despite the gnawing, knocking sense of his guilt that was oh so bitter on his tongue. The way his insides seemed to have been carved hollow of anything but the heavy emptiness that swelled inside of him, and clashed against his ribcage. While the question he uttered within the confines of his mind, was nothing more than an attempt to push the thought, the answer, somewhere to the back of his head.

Because he knew why it was. He knew why she was there. Though he wasn’t sure exactly why she had been wearing an armour, but it… It seemed only a thin consolation. An additional thing to, maybe, ponder about, in another time, another place but he…

His eyes shifted from side to side, as the fractions of thoughts were bouncing in his head, as if tossed and turned by the sea of uncertainty around him. Until he closed his eyes, shook his head, and commanded himself. Focus. Focus. The battle is still ongoing. He opened his eyes as Salamander roared by him, and his fire raged around him.

Focus!

He grit his teeth.

If you fail here, it’ll be… truly… the end. For us all.

He glanced up, to one of the clones of Lucius, and then around himself. To the remains of his knights. To his peers, who were still barely standing; looking around.

Failure is not an option.

He clenched his fist as he could feel his heartbeat steadying.

All the lives at stake…

Mereoleona was still charging ahead, closer to the … being that was more beast than man.

“Are all those incompetents dead now?” He asked.

As if the lives of his men had meant nothing. As if the smell of burning human flesh wasn’t real. The sickening stench of it that seemed to burrow itself into the lungs of those that still drew breath.

“In that case… I’ll show you some real living shields.”

Humanoid creatures with hollow eyes lifted from the ground, lines running from the empty sockets as if tears they wished to weep, but couldn’t. Tears that they were trying to shed, but which instead stayed petrified on their faces for their entire existence. As if they were doomed to forever shed tears, while being nothing but puppets without a will. Puppets to the point where even their tears couldn’t roll down their cheeks and relieve their existence, but instead stayed built up within them, on them, for all the world to see.

You mock… the sacrifices of my men…

Mereoleona still continued to charge ahead, without fear. Much like she always did.

But… She was getting overnumbered.

I have to get to her… he thought while focusing on the beings around him. There aren’t that many left to deal with here anymore… If I do… this much… It-, it should be enough… for now and then I can… Then it’s okay to go to… aid aneue…

He closed his eyes again, focusing on the targets around. His eyes narrowed, and he could feel his flames burning; even him could feel the sting of his own fire. Despite the Great Elemental Spirit of Fire being by his side.

“GOD CHOSE ME!” The man yelled before going on a rant about his … work… his crimes against humanity itself. The man was yelling from the top of his lungs with a ghoulish grin that shouldn’t have been.

Which was followed by something about … Mereo aneue’s… limits…? Does she have such a thing…?

Does she have such a thing… as a limit?

That…

Can’t… be…

But I should be there… on the front line against that… thing…

---

The sky was filled with fire. And light. Flashes and thunder and roar of the war around them. As the little ones kicked in Solara’s belly.

Shhh… She thought while placing her hand onto her stomach, fully knowing that they wouldn’t feel her touch, especially due to the armour. But… she couldn’t not do so. Try to ease their being. Shhh… She thought again, while also knowing they couldn’t hear her.

There was a flash of light, and fire, and she looked up. And towards the man who was standing on the back of the Great Elemental Spirit of Fire, landing spells onto … angels? Which tried to attack anything and everything that moved.

She could see him, clear as day, despite the tears that still kept climbing to her eyes, as if from the very bottom of her very soul. The burning emptiness that ache and stung and swirled in her despite making her feel empty in her chest.

She didn’t know where the gilded threads of fate resided. Where they had settled.

If they still lingered. Since the peace of rose gold precious metal had bounced off the cobble stones of the streets of the Royal Capitol of The Kingdom of Clover, or the Four Suits Peninsula, making a metallic clang with every impact it made. As if it had tried to reach the very thing, of which the core of the ring had been made of. The leaf of the Tree of Binding Fates that had fallen and been forged into the ring. The leaf that had spent all of its magic into bringing her there.

It had been as if the ring had tried to call for something.

What exactly, she didn’t know.

You can do it… She found herself thinking before turning her head closer to the walls of the capitol, where Mereo was aflame. Bodies burned at her feet. And laughter…

The most horrid, delusional laugh that seemed to-, she didn’t know what it seemed like. But it twisted and turned her stomach making her feel as if she might throw up. The way it echoed around the battlefield, as if it had all been nothing more than some big joke that she didn’t get. Like there was something … funny, about it all. All the pain and the suffering, the burning of the living, and their screams that died down under that laugh. The way the pained were suffocated under whatever that thing… perhaps once… a man… under his laugh…

Her eyes closed, and she took a few deep, steady, calming breaths.

Okay… calm down… calm down… and think. She exhaled, opening her eyes, and looked at the scene of the battle that opened before her near the wall. What should I do? I am not in a fighting condition, so I don’t think I should… draw too much attention to myself. I might be able to stand my ground for long enough, but it wouldn’t be without consequences most likely, and I might get injured. I’m not… exactly in my most nimble state. She thought while feeling the ache of her joints, the swelling and stiffness of them, along with the way her back ached due to the weight of her stomach. Another option would be to turn off my mana intake and allow for it to stay in the environment and be replenished by the knights-, … though their rate of intake wouldn’t be increased by it. And I could be singled out because of appearing to have high mana output. Which would be… unwise, but I wonder if… if I could do… something else…

The Queen had not promised her aid. There was no chance of making Heaven’s Curtain. No chance of utilizing those spells. It was a simple impossibility. And while Mereo had seemed to realize something in Spade, about mana and magic, it didn’t seem to be quite crystal clear to her yet.

Something…

She closed her eyes, biting down her molars and focusing on the mana around her. The magic at her disposal. The spells she didn’t know, and the ones that were still hidden from her. The things that… wanted to be…

Some…thing… Why…

She could feel more tears streaming down her cheeks, burning as is brimstones or the scorch of heavenly light. She wasn’t sure which. But it felt as if blessed hellfire.

Why is the mana so… Willing? And in pain? Desperate to…

It didn’t seem to make sense. Not even considering where they were. The tragedy that was laid by her very feet as well. Because despite the hardships and horrors and devastation, mana that remained to linger was most often just that. Mana.

It was just mana, when not radiating from a person, filtering through the array of emotions that were breathed through the soul of their harbourer.

And yet… the mana was… Not done yet.

This mana is…

There lied a thought. A revelation.

The mana is not… done yet…

She opened her eyes, and let her eyes lift from the cobble stones, as if trying to battle gravity itself. And gazed to Mereo.

I… if it’s…

She had some area of effect spells. And had channelled those of Queen Anima. Thus, they were not unfamiliar to her.

I wonder if I … could…

She focused on the mana around her, the way it lingered and prevailed. The way it seemed to insist on something. She wasn’t quite sure what, but… perhaps it wasn’t for her to realize. And she did have a spell… with which to aid realizations.

Help you…

She breathed out, closing her eyes, before whispering into the air, under her breath, while clenching her hand in front of her chest, and keeping her chin low as she manifested her grimoire. The gilded rivers of radiance ran across its cover, while the red surface underneath seemed to pulse with fire and flares.

Before it fluttered open.

“[Sunlight’s embrace]”

Her mana extended from her, and sought to spread through the air, around the mana that was trying to be, and give it a nudge. For it to do… whatever it was trying to do, to realize and to accomplish. Because the thing about a sun, is that it interacts with its surroundings in more ways than one might first see. The light, the burn and the scorch, were very prominent, but suns also bind. They hold things in place, bind them together, which is why planets orbit around the sun to begin with.

The sun, can ground in place. In a manner of speaking.

And she had had such spells in her repertoire as well.

Now… she was simply looking to make her mana embrace, hold in place, hold together the mana, the wishes and wills it seemed to harbour, while giving it a nudge, the same spark, lighting amongst it like a thousand tiny suns. And give forth something new.

Risky business. Because it could have been anything. Any mana. Any being. Any intention. Despite being closer to her than the enemy.

Only that she didn’t stop to think about it. She just trusted. She trusted the familiarity of it. And for a moment it felt as if… invisible hands would have extended towards Mereoleona, pushing her back onto her feet.

She dropped the spell, and just looked. Trying to understand. To still wrap her mind around what was taking place. Things that seemed… unreal.

---

“My apologies for the wait, Mereoleona!!” Fuegoleon’s voice roared as he now stood by his sister’s side, as a sea of flame erupted from him, in front of them, burning everything and anything in sight, creating a wall of fire that seemed to try and climb its way to the high heavens.

“I wasn’t waiting!” Mereo yelled through the thunder and roar of the sea of fire, as if purgatory. Only that hellfire and purgatory were her terrain. “I just now… got it.” She continued as her grimoire fluttered before her, and mana begun collecting around her, heavier than ever before. “I AM CONSTANTLY SURPASSING MY LIMITS!!!!” She roared while becoming a beacon of fire, as if a star of fire.

The ground cracked behind them.

And from those cracks, flames erupted, taking humanoid shapes, as if Hell itself was opening behind her, and was releasing the dead for her allegiance.

“Ultimate Flame Magic: Excelicitus Leonum”

…

And just like that… The Crimson Lion Kings, in bodies crafted with just fire and flame, stood behind her.

What… is… Fuegoleon’s eyes were wide open as he looked behind him, at yet another impossible scene.

“Don’t think dying… means you can take it easy…” Mereoleona uttered, but… it was as if her voice was resonating through the dancing flames, announcing it to those who now stood with her.

“EVEN IF YOU DIE, FOLLOW ME, YOU FOOLS!!!!” She roared from the top of her lungs while looking behind her with a wide grin, as if she was a lion, a beast, an apex predator of the savannah, ready to play and brawl.

It might have been hell before her, behind her and around her, but… she was right at home. She was in her element.

And that grin… It seemed completely in place.

One might have thought it to be a smile of a woman that has lost her mind, but… those that knew her, knew that Mereo was anything but out of her mind. If anything, she knew very well what she was getting herself into.

And she was enjoying it.

She thrived in it. The sensation, the adrenaline, the hunger!

She had been waiting for this battle for her entire life. And here it was.

“YES MA’AM!!!!” The souls behind her yelled back.

As if pleased. As if they had been now, and only now, given a tool to do something they had longed for, for a time far to grand.

And so… they charged forth.

Charged forth. As if it had been the only rational thing to do.

“THE IDEAL SHAPE OF THE HUMAN SOUL!!” She continued through the ever-present roar of fire and flame. “I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR GOD!!!” Whatever entity that might have been. “YOU GET TO FUEL OUR EVOLUTION!”

Who was being consumed, and who wasn’t? There might have been beings with bodies made of mana and magic, that were weaved together by their souls, but… they seemed much more like… humans… than whatever was the creature made of flesh and bones that was before them.

“COULDN’T ASK FOR MORE, COULD YOU?!”

…

And with that, Mereoleona landed a blow that disintegrated the being, once a man.

With which it seemed as if… despite the sounds of battle still going around, the sounds that didn’t go anywhere. There was a moment of silence.

It felt like a silence. A period at the end of a sentence.

As if there was a delicate sound of silver bells ringing somewhere in the distance, but it must’ve been one’s own imagination.

The way the heavens seemed to rang still… for a fraction of an eternity. A tick of a pointer in a clock that didn’t exist.

Without a sound.

….

…

Mereoleona… Vermillion… Solara thought while observing the scene from behind. You are… a terrifying being…

But the thought was coupled with a proud grin.

#black clover fanfiction #the vows we made #embers of sun and flame #fuegoleon x solara #fuegoleon vermillion #solara equinox #mereoleona vermillion #nyehheheheh #black clover

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caelitus-a · 2 years ago

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ALMOST KISS / FIANCEE SCENE: This scene is omitted. Jellal isn’t someone to say a good portion of the things that were said between them. He wouldn’t suggest that him just dying is an option nor would he mention the notion of revenge to Erza. One, because he’s trying to atone for the wrong doings that he has done or pain he has caused people. Dying before he can do that, is not an option. It’s not something he would suggest. Two, Jellal wouldn’t suggest revenge to Erza because he at least knows that she isn’t that kind of person.

THE GRAND MAGIC GAMES: Jellal didn’t pose as Mystogan in my portrayal when it comes down to the Grand Magic Games. The spot he would of taken on Team B was taken by someone else ( leaving that up in the air / plotting purposes ). He’s been a fugitive for 7 years now, avoiding guards & capture are some of his specialties. Jellal wouldn’t risk Crime Sorciere’s current workings as well when it’s a very big risk. Not when he was saved from execution as well. Makarov does suggest, give the offer of posing as Mystogan to Jellal but ultimately he rejects it.

ORACION SEIS VS. JELLAL FIGHT: Omitting this fight from my portrayal. Jellal wouldn’t purposefully inflict harm to someone as a way of ‘freeing’ them or trying to convince them to join alongside him. He’s trying to atone for things he has done to people, hurt & pain he has caused. Not cause more harm to people, he already has caused harm to. Jellal wouldn’t be able to take all of them on by himself, nor would he dismiss Meredy as well, because it’s a gross dismiss of how strong Oracion Seis’s members are.

ERZA: Let it be known that Jellal did not / does not hold any romantic feelings for Erza, this is something that would need to be insanely developed if it did happen at all. Jellal & Erza aren’t the same people as they were when they are kids, they’ve changed into different people. Jellal considers Erza to be a friend, someone that he admires & respects. At the same time however he also hurt her many times which is why it would lead him to keeping more of a distance when it comes to her then directly involving himself with her or having contact the way as depicted. Another note, The things he does in his life aren’t fueled just by Erza also. He’s trying to better his life, make some semblance of peace while also trying to make up for the wrongs he has committed. That is his basis for his life & why he does the things he does now.

PARDONING: When it comes to the pardon. It wasn’t an immediate thing done by Hisui but something that involved a lot more before the people of CS could be ‘free’. You can find more about the headcanon for this HERE. Along with a headcanon HERE ( to be added ) in regards to Jellal’s circumstances.

OTHER MISC.

- Filler Arcs, Filler Episodes do not exist here. This includes the visit to the waterpark episode during the GMG. Jellal’s a fugitive, he wouldn’t hang out in a waterpark around a bunch of guild mages. 100 year quest & other series as such do not exist within my portrayal.

- The scene in Tenrou of calling out Erza’s name & her hearing it is also omitted. It’s just not possible to hear someone’s voice or know someone is fighting someone else when they are miles miles apart.

- Per plotted with @hearternal & in accordance to @metnoia, Jellal joined in on the fight with Erza & Wendy against Eileen instead of showing up once Acnologia arrived. His magic was rather instrumental when it came to some of the techniques that Eileen used so it would make sense. Millianna took part in this fight as well, shielding Jellal from an attack.

- Following the attempt to keep Acnologia’s attention by Jellal fighting him. He did end up with several broken ribs along with a few other broken bones. There was a period of recovery for him following the war that still brings some occasional aches and pains to his limbs.

- Last Important Note: In the idea of some people seeing Jellal as the Guildmaster for Crime Sorciere. Jellal is not the Guildmaster & has never seen himself as such. He’d never want the role of being such a thing considering both the views he has of himself & he sees everyone there as comrades. People who are equal to him. What right does he have to be any kind of leader over them, he doesn’t is what is his view. Jellal sees it that all of them should make decisions together, equally deciding on things.

#–––– ✧ HEADCANON ˙ �� ✶

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ofcentvries · 1 month ago

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OTHER MISC.

#–––– jellal ✧ the night’s silent & raw divinity spills from the stars ˙ ˖ ✶ headcanon

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strawberry-skies-xx · 1 year ago

Note

half of this may seem incoherent because i am allowed one big brain moment per week and that ask was it, but I do have a response! half of this response is from my friend bc I ran to them like “I’m talking w this person about the finale + fyozai and this is too many braincells for me” 😭

anyway! starting off with the vampires:

- Fyodor did have control of the vampires as ordered by Fukuchi, because he was communicating with the outside using the Mersault guards, and hijacked the elevator also using his Mersault guards. but naturally, fighting against Dazai, Fyodor likely called for Chuuya both to poke at their bond/keep that card away from Dazai, and because Chuuya is stronger with more specialized abilities than any random guard - e.g. how he pulled the door trick to escape drowning

- and I don’t have a real answer for Fyodor not noticing Chuuya being a vampire except for the fact that Fyodor is simply arrogant. he believed his plan was perfect, he believed he had the genius to fight against Dazai (“you’re so sure you’re going to win?” “obviously”) and Chuuya looked the part, plus Fyodor had more things on his mind than checking in depth that Chuuya is actually vampirized by the vampirism ability Fyodor currently knows to be absolute.

- and along with that, Fyodor doesn’t actually canonically know that much about SKK. he had to steal Ace’s files to figure out Chuuya’s ability, and while he knew about SKK’s bond he didn’t know the actual depth of it. he called it shallow, and while he may have been mocking Dazai I do think he didn’t know much more than background checks of them both. the fact the Demon Prodigy hadn’t been active for four years helped. Fyodor likely didn’t know SKK don’t need to actually talk to communicate.

plus, in order for Fyodor to get Chuuya to help, he had to have called for him or have him sent or smth. for that to happen, Chuuya had to have some record of being vampirized - someone higher up, e.g. Fukuchi or another vampire who reports to him or someone, idk, has to have already seen him vampirized, so it is already known that Chuuya is a viable asset for them. another point for Fyodor believing that Chuuya is a vampire, and not needing to check.

finally for this, my friend points out that Akutagawa, proclaimed “strongest ability user in the PM” was vampirized (and has a theory that Dazai did that on purpose, both showing that someone like him can be vampirized and cutting off Fyodor’s available cards to play, further allowing Dazai access to Chuuya in prison) so Fyodor had no reason to believe that Chuuya wasn’t. if Akutagawa and a majority of the PM were vampirized, Fyodor could have full belief that one strong executive had also been vampirized.

now, for Fyodor’s trust in people and manipulation:

- a vital difference between Fyodor and Dazai is also pointed out in the waitress/subordinate conversation they had in prison. Fyodor cuts off every other option until his own is the only viable one for the waitress; Dazai tells Fyodor to act lazy and allows the subordinates’ own nature to push them into working. see, the subordinates in that scenario have multiple options; they could choose to snap at Dazai or make him work instead of themself working due to Dazai’s perceived laziness. on the other hand, the waitress has no options because Fyodor has cut all of them off.

therefore, while Dazai is trusting that his coworker who he knows very well will choose this one specific path, and carry all of it out perfectly in time to save him with 4+ people involved, Fyodor is only trusting that a person who’s consistently wanted something will go after exactly what they want still - e.g. the man he’s been manipulating into committing war crimes the way Fyodor wants him to. Fyodor is only trusting that Fukuchi wants to get what he wants; Dazai is trusting in his allies to choose, entirely by themselves, to help him. (which gives me the note that I have thought of an AU where the Agency leaves Dazai in Mersault and it’s a very tasty idea)

- and along with this, Fyodor isn’t actually trusting that Fukuchi will go after what he wants. he is partially, but even if that fails he’s trusting in his own ability to counter the unknowns. he and Dazai aren’t actually… idk how to word it. they don’t actually manipulate everything into falling the way they want to from the start; they’re reactive. take the Q situation: Dazai was surprised by the fact the PM let Q out, he was genuinely taken off guard. but things still went the way he wanted to, because Dazai’s plan hadn’t been ruined, he only had a new variable to react to. same with Fyodor: he didn’t actually have everything specifically planned out. Nikolai and Sigma weren’t supposed to live, sure, and Nikolai wasn’t supposed to do what he did, but Fyodor effortlessly reacted to it: he had the vampire guards already in the prison as a means to the outside, and he called for or somehow otherwise got Chuuya for help, while Dazai reacted to Nikolai’s games by hijacking the control room using his own method of communication to the outside: the time travel ability user.

so, in short, Fyodor isn’t even really trusting that Fukuchi will go after what he wants, or that his plan is even perfect, but that Fyodor himself will be able to react to whatever is thrown at him.

and finally, other little notes:

- neither me or my friend had anything about the hand injury lol. but, my friend did say it trusts Asagiri to make a compelling narrative, and so do I, plus the anime infamously fucks up character details. so, it’s waiting for the manga to possibly explain it better.

- Dazai’s “ingenious plan” of Chuuya in a costume didn’t work because it was a brilliant plan. it worked because Chuuya and Mori agreed to go along with it, e.g. Dazai trusting in people to help him, while Fyodor simply cuts off everyone else’s options until the one he wants is the only accessible one. the Port Mafia had other options, they could have just as well told Dazai to go fuck himself and saved their own skin. but, Dazai knows Mori chooses the most optimal solutions, and he presented an optimal solution. out of a couple, probably, knowing Mori

- for redemption arcs, my friend points out they’re less redemption and more explanation. Fitzgerald was explained why he did what he did, but he was far from excused for what he did, and he isn’t a good guy at any point. he isn’t actively trying to destroy the city, but he isn’t helping the good guys without a deal that benefits him. and for Fyodor being a stereotypical villain, he’s treated very human - he’s bad at Japanese, he can’t use chopsticks, he complains even in serious situations. so, there’s less “redemption arcs” than there are Asagiri pointing out to us that this act of evil came from a gray area forced by circumstance and genuine feeling, argued to not even be their own “fault,” rather than simply wanting power or death. and as for Fyodor, he’s partially explained for that - as you said, exerting his own will in the name of God’s will. and there’s so many theories about what exactly Fyodor believes and what made him believe this - so, while Fyodor may not be explicitly explained, he has enough depth of character that we can at least theorize, so there is something there to work with.

- and with that, my friend points out that people don’t have to be alive to have information revealed about them. for Fyodor’s death, it might be cheap because they’re bringing him back. (my personal belief because it’s too short for a character like Fyodor, you’re right) but even if he isn’t brought back, they pointed out Sigma being supposedly dead and the story hasn’t circled back around to confirming that - a loose end. and Fyodor lore was dropped right before he died, plus the next villain is associated with Fukuchi, AND Bram and Nikolai are both loose ends - the DOA aren’t gone yet. whether alive or not, Fyodor is likely still going to play some part in the story.

anyway! I think that’s it? idk, that’s it for me lol I’ve been typing this for a solid 45 minutes. reiterating that I’m trying not to sound like I’m arguing 😭 just trying to neutrally discuss, if any of it comes off like I’m arguing.

and! because I know full well how starving the fyozai shippers are for fyozai that isn’t abusive or one-sided (😔😔😔), I do have some fyozai fics if you’d like my ao3. no pressure though, feel free to decline :D

edit: also as you said, there’s still story left to go, so I’m also keeping an open mind to explain further these points. like my friend, I also trust Asagiri to write a compelling narrative 😌

*hugs back*

hi! fellow fyozai enjoyer, I saw your post about fyozai and how you disliked the finale, and I have thoughts about how I actually loved the finale for fyozai (I mean this /lh, it’s fully my opinion)

the basis of it is what Dazai tells Fyodor, and a theory I saw around chapter 101-ish of the manga.

Dazai tells Fyodor: “you don’t trust anything you can’t manipulate”

and the theory I saw had it’s basis centered around the fact that Chuuya was a wildcard for both Dazai and Fyodor. now, chapter 101, the fandom’s assumptions were a) Chuuya is actually a vampire, and b) Dazai just tried to kill Chuuya via drowning

the theory basically said, SKK have a strong bond right? an extremely popular theory around that time was that Dazai was trying to drag Chuuya out of the vampirism via his speech, possibly coded, and the water and drowning. so the theory said that what if Dazai was trying to use their bond, and Chuuya’s own willpower, to drag Chuuya out of vampirism and have him be an element of surprise against Fyodor - e.g. Chuuya is pulled out, recognizes Dazai’s plan, and plays along to eventually betray Fyodor, being the closest to him physically, and because Fyodor is already convinced of his control of Chuuya.

essentially, Dazai relies on his bond with Chuuya, his ally and human nature, while Fyodor is so focused on control that he is caught off guard because of Chuuya’s willpower

which is what happens in canon, sort of - Dazai relies on his allies and human nature, while Fyodor is so certain of his plan (he says it himself- his plan is perfect) that he doesn’t question Chuuya’s vampirism. he is so convinced that the vampirism is absolute that why would he need to check?

and then Dazai wins. and he tells Fyodor, “you don’t trust anything you can’t manipulate”

Dazai doesn’t either, or he didn’t, and here’s where I love the ending so much and what it means for fyozai - neither of them trust what they can’t manipulate. but Dazai did, has been doing since he joined the Agency, and that’s how he won - he grew out of this belief that Fyodor still currently has, also aligning with their fundamental differences in one belief, the value of human life + experiences

anyway. that’s my opinion on why I actually love the ending sm and don’t understand why so many people hate it. “how did Fyodor not notice Chuuya put on a Halloween costume” that’s the POINT - it highlights fyozai’s fundamental difference in belief, Dazai’s growth, how Dazai has pushed past that blockage that Fyodor still has and which is why he lost, ALSO highlighting how they are the same person expressed differently in one root belief. which makes them even CRUNCHIER in my opinion

ty for reading, you’re so correct that not enough people enjoy fyozai 😔✌️(and if any of this came off harsh please know I don’t mean it to be 😭)

Hi, fellow fyozai enjoyer! Thank you for sharing your perspective on the finale! I love hearing other people's opinions, so I appreciate you throwing your two cents in. And no worries, none of that came off harsh. 😆 I'm about to rant here, so I hope I don't come off as harsh!

I think you're spot on in what Asagiri/the anime writers were going for. However, there are several fundamental problems I have with it, from a character perspective and from a storytelling perspective. My issues with the finale really don't have anything to do with fyozai; my issues are with the writing, especially the writing of Fyodor's character. Because the thing is, it makes sense in theory, but it doesn't work the way they did it.

In theory, it makes perfect sense that Dazai "won" because he trusts his allies and Fyodor does not. It's even set up in these scenes:

In the first, Dazai and Fyodor are (quite hilariously) telling each other how they manipulate others. Dazai acts the fool, pretends to be lazy and unengaged so his "workers" have to step up and do something themselves. That's how he plays puppet master behind the scenes. Fyodor takes control of his pawns by leaving them no choice. That's how he plays puppet master behind the scenes. Dazai's method requires a lot less control and a lot more trust.

In the second, Dazai is saying that the world is chaotic and all of their "ingenious plans" don't amount to much (except when it's Dazai's "ingenious plan" to dress Chuuya up in a Halloween costume!), challenging Fyodor's idea that he can impose his own order on the world (which is exactly what Fyodor is trying to do, though he can't see that - he isn't doing God's will, he's only doing his own; the order he is trying to impose upon the world by using the Book is not God's, it is his own).

Personally, I think "Dazai wins because he has friends, Fyodor loses because he doesn't" is kind of a boring way to go with both Fyodor's character and with the conflict between him and Dazai. Considering this is BSD, where everyone and their boss gets a redemption arc of some sort, and considering this a character based (however loosely) off of Fyodor Dostoevsky, a man who wrote numerous novels exploring deeply complex philosophical and religious ideas about human nature and redemption, I had hoped that Fyodor's character would have a redemption arc of his own. I really hoped that he wouldn't end up being the one character in this series treated like a stereotypical villain. Alas, here we are...

But whatever, they set this up, and again, theoretically, it makes sense. It works for their characters, and I don't mind the idea that Fyodor loses to Dazai because of Dazai's trust in others - in theory. You are certainly right that it makes fyozai all the crunchier!

But it just doesn't work the way they did it. It doesn't work because Fyodor does not actually have any direct control over the vampires.

Unless I missed something about there being a line on the Page that says "the vampires shall obey Fukuchi Ouchi, Bram Stoker, and Fyodor Dostoevsky, and no one else", Fyodor does not control the vampires. Fukuchi does, because Fukuchi has control of Bram. Or Fukuchi is supposed to, because Fukuchi is supposed to have control of Bram. The only reason the vampires would obey Fyodor at all is because, presumably (though I don't think this is ever stated), Fukuchi ordered them to through Bram and Bram's Ability.

This means that in order for Fyodor to use any of the vampires, including Chuuya, as his pawns, he would need to have complete trust in Fukuchi. He would need to trust that Fukuchi hasn't fucked anything up, has not lost control of Bram, and that whatever Dazai was plotting with his buddies outside the prison has not caught up to Fukuchi and exposed him or taken him down. And Fyodor knows that Dazai is plotting, he knows that Dazai is in contact with the outside. He knows Ranpo is out there, and that Dazai is relying in particular on Ranpo.

And he was able to predict Ranpo's moves at least up to trying to intercept the One Order. So he also knew that Fukuchi had been/would be discovered and that the ADA were actively trying to thwart him. But he carried on his plan to use Chuuya, because he still trusted that Fukuchi had control of Bram.

In other words, he was trusting Fukuchi in exactly the same way Dazai was trusting Ranpo and the others.

It doesn't matter if Fyodor and Fukuchi are "friends," or if they're real "allies" - the point is that Fyodor did not actually have any direct control over the vampires, or over Fukuchi. Fukuchi even says in the anime that he "sent him (Fyodor) to prison" to ensure that Fyodor could not interfere with his actual plan - which was, of course, not Fyodor's actual plan. But Fyodor trusted that things were still going according to his plan, even though he couldn't actually manipulate things directly from where he was. Exactly like Dazai.

I get the whole "Fyodor thinks his plan is perfect" thing, but in this plan, Fukuchi had all of the power over the vampires, not Fyodor. Sure, you can argue Fyodor thought he had Fukuchi under his thumb (which, by the way, I find very hard to believe, because from what Fukuchi tell Fukuzawa, Fyodor knew what Fukuchi really wanted, and made a deal with him to achieve that; therefore, he knew Fukuchi had his own motives), but that doesn't matter - what matters is that he placed control of the pawns he intended to use in the hands of someone else.

That ruins Dazai's whole "you don't trust anything you can't manipulate" - because he wasn't manipulating the vampires, and he couldn't manipulate Fukuchi from prison.

And he purposefully put himself in prison as part of his "perfect plan," so he intentionally put himself in a position where he could not directly manipulate his most important pawn: Fukuchi.

So the whole "Fyodor loses because he doesn't trust others" is bunk precisely because they used the vampires as the key to Fyodor's downfall. Fyodor literally cannot use the vampires as part of his plans without trusting an ally - Fukuchi. The idea behind Fyodor's downfall is fine. The execution is what doesn't make any goddamn sense.

It also doesn't work for me because this is Fyodor we're talking about here. Are you seriously telling me I should buy that Fyodor was fooled by contacts and fake fangs? Like for real? If it were anyone else, sure. But Fyodor? I wouldn't buy Dazai or Ranpo falling for that, either. I don't care how much Fyodor believes in his own perfect plan. He still should be able to tell the difference between someone who has been turned into a vampire and someone who has not. Especially since Dazai says he and Chuuya have pulled this kind of thing before. I'm expected to believe it never occurred to Fyodor they'd do something like that? Why, because he's not a soukoku shipper?

I wish we had gotten Dazai bringing Chuuya back to his senses through their bond, because that would make a whole hell of a lot more sense than this being an elaborate act - and it would actually give credence to the idea that Fyodor's desire for complete control is his undoing.

And while we're talking about the narrative problems, let's talk about that hand injury that's so important to all of this. I already talked about this in another post, but Fyodor deciding to let the vampires pilot the helicopter because his hand injury made it impossible for him to do so doesn't make sense to me, either, because the hand is clearly shown to still be mobile:

I know there's a big difference between piloting a helicopter and pressing a button or letting someone else hold your hand, but the hand is obviously not useless. Why would Fyodor be willing to put himself at the mercy of his pawns if he can still use his hand, wounded or not? Again, when he's not actually the one controlling them?

Obviously, this isn't going to be a plot point in the manga because Fyodor has no hand injury in the manga, but this was another thing that bothered the hell out of me. They really just had Fyodor act stupid all of a sudden so he could get himself killed.

Again I hope I'm not sounding too harsh! I'm not trying to attack you at all!! But do you see why I have such a problem with the finale? I get what it was trying to do, but the way it was done just doesn't make any sense, imho. Now, if they had done something with Sigma and Fyodor, like I thought was going to be the case...

I do really appreciate your opinion on the finale, and I don't want to suggest you're wrong or anything. I'm just saying that to me, there are massive issues with it. I just think it's really bad writing.

More than that, it felt so cheap to kill Fyodor off that way. It didn't feel like a big deal, it just felt rushed and - well, cheap. Fukuchi's death has the same problem, but at least with Fukuchi they took the time to flesh out his character, give us answers to the remaining questions about his past and his motives, and give him an emotional send-off. They just blew Fyodor up and went, "Well on to the next!"

But!! With time to reflect, I think the people saying that Fyodor isn't really dead at all are probably right. There are just too many unanswered questions; it doesn't make narrative sense to actually kill him off at this point.

And we don't know how the manga is going to go yet. If the manga does follow the anime, I think it's a pretty good bet that when Sigma wakes up, the secrets he learned about Fyodor will be revealed, and then - well, I guess we'll see.

In the meantime, though, I'm going to continue to (mostly) pretend the finale didn't happen sdfghjghj

Again, thank you for sharing! 💕💖 I think you made some good points, but I hope I was able to explain why I disliked the finale so much :/

*hugs* ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚ ♡♡

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providencehq · 2 years ago

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Order and very quick design ideas for my version of the Reverse Robins AU. Descriptions of how they joined the Batfamily under readmore:

Duke Thomas aka Lark was the first to be taken in by Bruce Wayne after the incident where his parents and the Joker, Bruce didn't want someone like him to suffer the same fate of using anger to struggle through grief. Sadly, it's didn't work and Gotham ended up with the first person Batman willingly worked with, Lark. He ends up parting with Bruce after he slowly gets more kids to train and fill his shoes. Duke takes to working during the day, usually alone but sometimes Shadow/Cass will join him.

Next Bruce learns about the existence of a biological son who grew up in the League of Assassins. Bruce struggles raising him but Duke steps in and tries to help him. Damian soon takes on the name Robin and works to fill in another crime fighting spot next to Batman. Over the years Damian struggles to live up to Batman's impossible expectations and leaves Gotham to live in Bludhaven under the name Mockingjay (or maybe Magpie, I'm not sure yet.) He's quite distant from the family and tends to stay out of family drama.

Cassandra Cain aka Shadow joins the family next but isn't initially taken under the wing of Batman, no, she's initially discovered by Minhkhoa Khan/Ghost Maker. He tries to show her how to be like him and trains her. He does show her kindness where her father never did but they have two very different options regarding vigilantism and the morals and standards they must uphold. Khoa isn't a fan of leaving her be in his city as she might turn into a rival so he ends up dropping her off to Batman since their codes line up. She quickly becomes one of the bats. Her and Damian get along nicely since they were both raised as assassins, it's easier to understand another that way.

Stephanie Brown aka Spoiler aka Black Mask was never adopted into the Bat's family. Instead she became a close friend to Cass as a civilian but ends up running into Cass a few times as Spoiler while she's trying to take down her father. Things go well until she's 'killed' by Black Mask during a gang war she accidently started while trying to take down her father. Cass takes down Black Mask and he's sent to Blackgate. Steph comes back with a vengeance however and takes on Black Mask's old name in order to strike fear into the city and also to better control it. She doesn't want what happened to her to ever happen again so she takes on not quite lethal means to fight and protect her own but it's nearly lethal in all honestly.

Tim Drake aka Red Hawk is taken in as a ward by Bruce when his parents are killed by Captain Boomerang. Bruce doesn't want those he's close to know his second lifestyle and keeps Tim away from it the best he can. Tim discovers who Batman is and notices how much trouble he has taking down crime, now currently alone due to all of his children taking up heroism elsewhere. Tim confronts Bruce and forces him to train him. As Red Hawk, he helps out Batman and is later adopted by him.

Jason Todd was adopted by Bruce after he tried to steal the tires off of the Batmobile. Jason, compared to everyone else so far, is thriving under Bruce and his care. But Batman is currently struggling once more as he is left without a partner. Both Tim and Steph expose Batman's secret to Jason and more or less force him to take on the mantle to be his sidekick. Jason agrees but later dies at the hands of Joker. He comes via the Lazarus pits and uses the new name Shrike and attempts to get revenge on his siblings who failed to protect him. He's currently running amok in Crime Alley.

Lastly is Dick Grayson aka Robin aka Talon. Dick's parents died in Haley's Circus but Bruce wasn't there to control of the young boy and instead the Court of Owls got to him. They began to mold him to the next Talon but Batman intervenes as he's tracking down the Court of Owls. Dick is adopted by Bruce and takes on the mantle of Robin but struggles with heroism. Damian steps in since he was raised as an assassin and living the expectations of Dick. Damian helps Dick with the extreme adjustments he's facing while also trying to get Jason back to manor for some much needed interventions with what's he's doing in Crime Alley. Dick more or less acts a side kick to both Bruce and Damian when needed.

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

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sirikenobi12 · 4 years ago

Text

War & the Jedi

This will be a long meta rant, FYI.

The Jedi Order, specifically the Prequel era Jedi Order, gets a lot of hate these days particularly regarding their involvement in the Clone Wars. Accusations are tossed at their feet constantly ranging from corruption all the way up to warmongering.

Let’s first look at the Oxford English Dictionary definition of these two accusations, shall we?

Corruption - having or showing a willingness to act dishonestly in return for money or personal gain.

Warmonger - a person who encourages or advocates aggression towards other countries or groups.

The definitions of these two words are so very misunderstood when it comes to relation to the Jedi. If the Jedi are truly “corrupt” then where are the examples of their dishonesty for wealth or personal gain? In fact, I’d argue that canon (and Legends) makes a point to show us that it is the Sith who are in it for personal gain, not the Jedi. The Jedi have absolutely NOTHING to gain from this war on a personal level, in fact they are losing members in terrifying numbers.

The Jedi are also not advocating aggression towards the Separatists, in fact what we see instead is the Jedi DEFENDING against the Separatists. I have yet to see in either canon or legends an instance where the Republic forces invade a Separatist planet who doesn’t have an army or some military involvement (i.e. weapon factories). However, time after time we see the Separatists forcing peaceful planets who want nothing to do with them to either bow to their cause or die (i.e. Ryloth, Lurmen planet, Kiros, Mandalore) the Jedi and Republic Troops will then follow the Separatists to these planets, but they try to do what they can to liberate the planet from the Separaist invasion and then they give the planet the OPTION to join the Republic for safety and economic reasons, but they never force them, as is super evident with Mandalore.

Yet people don’t seem to see this and continue to drag the Jedi through the mud.

Here are the top 5 other “woke” takes I hear -

Jedi are peacekeepers and should not have gotten involved:

First things first, let’s look at the definition of Peacekeeper - a soldier, military force, etc., deployed to maintain or restore peace.

I’d argue by that definition the Jedi were still peacekeepers, it’s true that they weren’t a 3rd party as they normally were before the war, but their position was trying to maintain or restore peace. Peacekeeper is not the same thing as a Pacifist, the Jedi were skilled warriors (training from childhood to wield a lightsaber), the difference is Jedi used their skills for defense not attack which is what we constantly saw throughout the Clone Wars.

With regards to the idea that Jedi “should not have gotten involved” I ask you then what exactly were they supposed to do instead?

We see at the beginning of Attack of the Clones that the Jedi are worried things will escalate to war, they have obviously gone to the Chancellor hoping that a diplomatic solution can be presented to avoid bloodshed. Or if that isn’t possible then that the Republic have some way to defend themselves other than relying solely on the Jedi (i.e. an army). The Separatists are the ones pushing them to a breaking point, were the Jedi just supposed to stand back and let innocent people be invaded/killed because they didn’t want to get involved? The Jedi were “Guardians of Peace and Justice” which means it was their duty to help bring about peace in the galaxy while also enacting justice.

Then after Geonosis (where they lost approx. 187 members mind you) they learned that the Sith are leading the Separatist army - the Jedi are duty bound by their code to fight the Sith, they had no choice but to join the war.

So, I ask again...what were they supposed to do instead?

2. Jedi used a slave army for their own purposes:

Okay, I can (and probably will) write a whole argument based on just this accusation alone. There are so many fallacies I don’t even know where to begin but I’ll try.

I guess my first question is the same as #1, what were the Jedi supposed to do instead with regards to the Clones?

Technically speaking the Clones didn’t “belong” to the Jedi, they were “property” of the Republic (as stated by Lama Su in Attack of the Clones). In fact, the Jedi Council not only didn’t know about the order, they had vehemently denied Syfo Dias’ earlier request to raise an army in the first place. The Sith KNEW the Jedi would be against it, this was all part of their plan to trap the Jedi (as was EVERYTHING about the war) - they clouded the Force, they literally deleted Kamino from the Archives so the Jedi wouldn’t discover it until the Sith WANTED them to (i.e. Jango just happened to use a Kamino dart?? Come on people). Yoda even states “blind we are if creation of this clone army we could not see” he fully admits they missed it because the Dark Side was clouding their vision.

Regardless, the army was created, there was no changing that fact. Had the Jedi not taken command of the army do you think the Clones wouldn’t have had to go to war? Do you actually believe that the Republic who couldn’t get their citizens to give 2 craps about the war would’ve taken up the mantle and fought instead? Do you think if the Jedi were like “thanks, but we didn’t order this” that the Kamioans would’ve just let the Clones go free?

The answer you’re looking for is...no.

So, like absolutely everything about the Clone Wars the Jedi did the best they could with the cards they had been dealt. They chose to lead the army on the front lines, putting themselves in just as much mortal danger as the men they were leading. They even sent a member of the Jedi Council to oversee the creation of future clones/training to ensure they were being treated humanely (something the Kamioans thought was ridiculous). They were the first to tell the clones that they were individuals, they constantly put themselves in front of their men to protect them (i.e. season 7 Obi-Wan deflecting the rocket from blowing up his men). The Jedi did what they could, just because we didn’t see on screen Jedi stopping to grieve every time a clone died did not mean that they didn’t care - real life Generals can’t stop in the middle of a battle to grieve over their fallen soldiers either, so why is it we consider it a moral crime if the Jedi don’t?

Another thing I’ll add is once the Jedi had evidence that the Clones were actually ordered by Dooku, did they immediately stop and say “oh hell no, these flesh droids can’t be trusted, we should just have them decommissioned”?? NO! They defended the Clones, stating that they were good men and should be trusted (and look where that trust got them in the end).

The Jedi were forced/coerced to fight this war as much as the Clones were!! Why are we willing to forgive the Clones, but not the Jedi???

3. Ki-Adi-Mundi killing Geonosians was the same as Anakin’s slaughter at the Tusken camp:

This is another moment where context is everything because there is a HUGE difference between Ki-Adi-Mundi on Geonosis and Anakin in the Tusken camp. The fact that I have to even spell it out makes me wonder how people can even dress themselves in the morning.

The Geonosians were an opposing military force, attacking Ki-Adi and his troops. Anakin slaughtered unarmed women and children out of vengeance.

Now, had Ki-Adi turned to his men and screamed “to the catacombs!” brandishing his lightsaber with a murderous glint in his eyes and proceeded to cut down the unarmed bugs below the battle then you’d have an accurate comparison on your hands and I’d be appalled right there with you.

But, as it stands this is not the same thing...not even close.

4. The Jedi sent children to war:

So, this is a tougher one and I can even understand the concerns behind it, and I even share some of those concerns. The thing I will say to this is, given what we see throughout Star Wars, what constitutes a “child” seems to be different than our own real world definition.

Padme, for example, was 14 when she was elected Queen, and she wasn’t even the youngest ever elected. She (and her handmaids) were trained as children to defend themselves and their people both politically and in battle (much like Jedi), but you don’t hear people condemning the people/traditions of Naboo the way we see the Jedi being condemned for theirs.

Jedi children arguably mature faster than your standard person, and with regards to Star Wars there are also species’ age ranges to keep in mind. Grogu for example is still a baby at age 50, could it be possible that Ahsoka at age 14 is on the same maturity level as a human in their early twenties due to her Togruta DNA?? We don’t know, it’s never stated other than Anakin saying something about because of her advanced skills he forgets how young she is.

Obviously Boba Fett is treated like an adult by other Bounty Hunters - no one even questions when he picks up a job and is placed in charge of a group at age 12 or 13 (and he is placed in an adult prison without anyone questioning it). It could be that by law according to Star Wars that 13 is actually considered an adult. Throughout history (and in many different cultures) 13 was when people were considered to be “coming of age”, So, once again we’re placing our cultural biases onto a fictional space fantasy world without realizing it might not even be an issue in that world.

But even beyond all of that I ask you again - what else should the Jedi have done?

Their young Padawans would eventually have to grow into Jedi Knights, even before the war by the time they are teenagers they usually followed their Masters on missions (often very dangerous missions) in order to get real world experience. At the time of the Clone Wars the real world they were living in was one at war. If they hadn’t brought their Padawans onto the battlefield how else would they have learned how to strategize, or how to cope with the emotions of battle? They would’ve been ill prepared if the war had continued on for years and years as it had looked like it was going to do...once again, the Jedi had no real choice in this.

5. The Jedi lost their way because of the war:

Did they though?? I’d argue they actually didn’t. We first have to ask ourselves what is a Jedi - well, according to the very first time we hear any type of a description about a Jedi they are introduced as the “Guardians of Peace and Justice for the Republic” I don’t see how the war took that away from them.

The Oxford definition of Guardian is a defender, protector, or keeper. I fail to see how the Jedi stopped being any of these things because of the war.

Here’s the bottom line, the Jedi’s biggest mistake was that they fell for a plot 1,000 years in the making. The Sith spent over a millenia perfecting/hatching this plan, there was nothing the Jedi could’ve done to prevent the war by the time the trap was sprung. As always, I’m not saying the Jedi were perfect (I hate that I have to always specify that when I argue that the Jedi were good), all I’m saying is they tried to do the most good that they could with the situation they fell into - few groups/characters can claim the same thing.

Everyone seems to forget that the Sith controlled BOTH SIDES to that war, there was nothing - absolutely NOTHING the Jedi could’ve done that would’ve changed or won that war. So, instead they saved as many innocent lives as they could and to me, that’s very Jedi.

#star wars #jedi #Clone Wars #jedi appreciation #jedi positivity #jedi positive #pro jedi #stop blaming the jedi #meta #rant post #war #The Clone Wars #attack of the clones #jedi culture #jedi council appreciation #jedi did not deserve genocide

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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years ago

Text

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

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mzdsanalysis · 3 years ago

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Wei Wuxian’s Actions and Morality:

I am kind of confused on some parts, and i would really appreciate it if someone is willing to discuss it with me. It’s regarding Wei Wuxian, and his exact involvement in the events at the Accident at Qiongqi Path and Bloodbath of Nightless City.

Now, at the accident at Quiongqi path, Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning were just going to Koi tower for the full month celebration to which they had been invited to. Jin Zixun ambushes and threatens to kill him if he doesn’t remove the hundred hole curse. Wei wuxian tries to explain that he didn’t cast the curse and isn’t guilty (admittedly he could have done it in a better way). Jin zixun doesn’t believe him and continues to threaten him. Jin Zixuan appears, tries to diffuse the tension, but still insists that wei wuxian comes along to answer the accusations. Wei wuxian doesn’t believe him (he isn’t wrong to. Guys show up with a whole gang, accuse him of something he didn’t do, and then ask him willingly to come along to “resolve” the issue, though they had spent the past year slandering him and wanting to murder the people he is trying to protect. Just getting into his perspective of things.) Wei wuxian gets angry and accuses Jin zixuan of being on the whole thing, and is agitated and afraid. Which is when he loses control of the resentful energy, which extends to his control of wen ning, and that’s how wen ning, not currently being in control of his body, punches a hole into Jin Zixuan and kills him. Now, automatically, I am going to absolve Wen Ning of any guilt. He is literally NOT in control of his own body. He did that due to the Wei wuxian controlling him with resentful energy. But Wei wuxian also isn’t completely guilty. He was upset, confused, and to some extent scared. But not even subconsciously was he planning or intending to kill Jin zixuan. He lost control over the resentful energy. He put wen ning is a specific state, and then lost control over him, due to not being able to regulate his own emotions during the whole chaos. An accident. An accident that led to someone innocent being killed, but an accident none the less.

Now, I expect different peoples take on this is going to deviate somewhat and that’s fine. I am cool with it. In my opinion, he isn’t completely guilty, but is still responsible. He did not have the intention to kill Jin zixuan, but he DID kill him. It was because of the resentful energy that he was still learning about and how to control it. But if you are going to use a knife after everyone telling you it’s dangerous – although they are doing it just because they don’t want you to have the knife, they want themselves having the knife, while at the same time threating to kill your friends, so you don’t exactly have a choice, but use a freaking knife to, you know, NOT DIE – when you accidently stab someone, it’s still somewhat on you. Lan Zhan had warned him that it could end up badly if he did loose control over the resentful energy and wen ning, and wei wuxian dismissed it. But it was still something he was experimenting with and researching, and hadn’t completely figured out. So it’s not like he didn’t care or was dismissing that it was a bad thing, just that he genuinely didn’t think it would happen. He has been controlling it so far, and everything has been fine, and since he doesn’t exactly have any other options, he will have to continue using it, despite the arguments on the dangers of it.

Now, the bloodbath at Nightless City. Wei wuxian already knows at this point that wen ning and wen qing are dead, and he heads there to atleast collect their ashes and bring them back. When he arrives at the pledge conference, all the sects attending, all 3000, are collected together, and Jin Guangshan makes his speech. He announced that both wens are dead, and then spreads the ashes, the ones Wei ying had come to collect. Then announces that they were going on next day to kill the rest of wens anyway, along with wei ying, to loud applause from the crowd in attendance. Its only then wei wuxian makes his presence known. Before that, he was just listening on. Jin Guangshan makes some more accusations: at Qiongqi Path wei wuxian killed Lanlingjin sect members, the ones jin zixun brought to ambush him, and that wei ying is the one who made wen ning go in a rampage at koi tower (a lie. While jin zixuan’s death at wen ning – actually wei wuxian’s – was an accident, the rampage at koi tower, as we know for a fact, wasn’t an accident (confirmed by MXTX’s interview.) I am not sure if it was mentioned in the book, but from what I can recall, it was xue yang. I might be wrong, but it was still done on Jin Guangshan’s orders. So the deaths of members of the other sect’s members, Lan and Nie, and the others, lie not at wei wuxian’s feet but Jin Guangshan’s. Wei wuxian doesn’t take the accusations silently, and argues back: he was the one who was ambushed, who almost got killed. He has every right to defend himself against the men Jin Zixun brought to attack and kill him. The crowd says he shouldn’t have been so heartless, and in wei wuxian’s own words: no matter what the other sects throw at him, no matter how hard they try to harm and kill him, he is not allowed to touch them, harm their members, defend himself or fight back even if it cost him his life. The sects throw in their final arguments in:

Even if he was fighting back, it doesn’t account for the 130 people who died at koi tower at hands of wen ning.

He shouldn’t defend the wens. They are horrible and evil and guilty and deserve to die.

He is only doing it for his pride, and to prove himself a hero.

He laid the curse on Jin zixun.

Each of them are easily nullified.

Wei wuxian didn’t cause wen’s ning rampage. Jin Guangshan did. The 130 lives are on his own hands, not wei wuxians.

People aren’t guilty by association, especially by family relation. None of the wen remnants have any blood on their hands. They are from wen qing’s branch and are non-combatants, thus they were not involved in any of the Wen Ruhon’s actions. Nor were they involved in at the accident at Qiongqi Path or Koi tower. They are innocent.

The argument about his pride came from their attitude towards him from before his defection. They had admired his powers and were intimated by it, but didn’t like that he belonged to Jiang sect, and wasn’t willing to change his loyalties to belong to them instead. He also dared being defiant and outspoken, and powerful while being a servant’s son, and that’s a crime of it’s own in their eyes. Is wei wuxian’s slightly arrogant? Yes. Is he wrong to be? No, he is very powerful and is aware of what he is capable of. Is that a reason to hate him enough to want to kill him? No! wth

He laid the curse on Jin Zixun. He didn’t. Su she did. Jin Guangshan and Guangyo were aware of that, and still sent zixun to ambush wei ying anyway.

None of their accusation hold any weight to them. Admittedly, we know that because we read the book and these characters aren’t exactly able to do that. The only people here who know about it are Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao, who planned the whole thing in the first place. So, I am not going to paint these people as all evil. Some of the sect’s members did die. Some of these people have actually the right to be angry at what happened, though the anger is pointed in the wrong direction.

But the rest of the people are there because of the mob mentality. Because someone is guilty, someone needs to be punished. Here its 50 people and wei ying, one of their own ex members. But because they are not worth the effort, none of it needs to be investigated, to be proven. They have an available party to hold guilty, and it’s far too comfortable for them to put it on their heads rather than find the actually accountable people.

To an extent, it really does seem, by the proofs handfed to them by Jin Guangshan, the wei ying is guilty, That he actually did it. But don’t they owe to the 50 wen members who are about to be slaughtered like cattle, for no other reason than being associated with Wen sect and Wei wuxian, for atleast one of them to look a bit harder, to try a bit harder? I would say so. Wei ying would too. I don’t think the other sects would agree with us, but it’s ancient china society, and modern war ethics and laws aren’t exactly in place to prevent them from doing so.

Back to Wei ying, he gets shot at by a disciple. It actually pierces him, just by luck not in a fatal place but only by a fluke. It was aimed at the heart. The intention to kill was there. He fires the arrow back, kills back the guy who tried to kill him. I don’t know exactly how anyone could hold him completely in the wrong here. We might not like it, but wei ying is not some pure white angel, nor a pacifist by any means. He is a soldier, a fighter, and he is amidst people who are literally moving to kill him by any means, and he just got an almost kill-shot. He has every right to defend himself, fight back, and honestly, kill back anyone who is trying to kill him. Eye for an eye, punch for a punch. It’s ruthlessly fair, despite sounding harsh. Honestly, it is harsh, but it’s not wrong, wither we like it or not.

He calls forth his dead, the battle begins. Lan Wangji tries to get him to stop, but it doesn’t work. There are definite tones of a sort of deliriousness. I am not exactly sure to how severe it was, but it shows he wasn’t exactly in an emotional and mental fit state. It’s definitely obvious when he tries to make his way to Yanli, and is too worked up to control the corpses crowding around, and the one standing behind Jiang Yanli. He is only able to do it when yanli asks him to stop it all so that she could tell him what she had wanted to tell him. He forces himself to calm down, and is only then able to control the corpses. (I am not saying the deliriousness was severe enough to absolve him of any responsibility he does hold in the event; I am merely acknowledging it’s presence.)

Then Jiang Yanli gets killed by the bow guy’s brother, and that when thing’s go from going downhill to just jumping right off the cliff. But unfortunately, MXTXs writing doesn’t exactly let us to be a witness to the scene, so the curtains close, and we are only allowed to make our assumptions on what happened, who/how/how many exactly died.

The point of this bloody essay is to determine the exactly how much of the event was Wei wuxian involved and responsibly for, so I can examine wei wuxian’s morality with all facts present.

If we go according to the book, wei ying:

Used some pretty grotesque methods to kill in the sunshot campaign

Allowed/ made Wen Ning kill his killers at Qiongqi Path

Accidentally killed Jin Zixuan

Kill Jin Zixun and his men after their ambush

Got in a fight on the way to the pledge conference with a group of cultivators: he broke one’s nose, kicked out his teeth, and made another fall and break his legs (not a severe injury according to lan wangji)

Fought in Bloodbath at Nightless city (after they had made the announcement, they were going ahead with the attack on the wen remnants and wen ying)

I am only including actions that me, anyone else (or the character’s) could possibly hold against him and question his morality with.

Here is where my confusion comes in. Now, I made the mistake of reading the novel only after finishing the tv show. As we know, the tv show took some liberties with the plotline and altered a few things. I honestly like a lot of the changes. Usually when tv shows make changes like that, it doesn’t always work out and it kind of depletes the essence of the story, but they actually managed it quite well. But one of the key changes were the plotlines around the Qiongqi Path accident and nightless city.

Divergences in the tv show:

At Qiongqi Path, Su she’s flute is what makes Wen Ning kill Jin Zixuan (+ Jin Zixun) rather than wei wuxian loosing control due to his emotions.

At the bloodbath, Su She playing the flute is what stopped wei wuxian from halting the battle and loose control of the fierce corpses.

(+ by the time of the battle, the wen remnants were already dead, so wei wuxian’s fight becomes more about revenge and grief rather than to protect them)

Basically, they abbreviated a lot of his action to other people. Which I understand, I guess. You are less in the character’s head while watching the tv show rather than when you are reading the book, and for the audience to develop a better and more empathetic relationship with a lead character, liberties needed to be taken to make him more sympathetic.

My debate on his morality, hence, is more focused on the book character rather the tv show (honestly, since even his only 2 serious offences are not even his fault in the show.) but in the book, they kind of are. He did kill Jin Zixuan: accidentally. He had no intention whatsoever of him doing it; not subconsciously or consciously. He was just feeling agitated and angry and viewed Jin Zixuan as a threat, and Wen Ning, who was in his fierce corpse state, interpreted as a need to kill jin Zixuan.

The only way you could put this against him is if you hold him responsible of using such an unstable and dangerous form of cultivation/magic. But he already gave an answer for that, which none of us can argue against: he didn’t have choice. He never did with demonic cultivation.

He started using it in the Burial mounds to survive and make it out.

He used it to seek justice for his sects massacre (go ahead and debate the need for that if you need to. I don’t)

He used it to fight in the Sunshot campaign, and he was a MAJOR force in the campaign, and a enormous contributor to it’s success. Could they still have won if he hadn’t been with them? Maybe, sure. But if there was any risk to loosing them, and wen sect remained undefeated, Jiang chen and yanli and wei wuxian were as good as dead. No way they or the other sects who had raised arms against wen sect would have been allowed to live or survive.

He used it to save Wen Ning and other wen remnants: war prisoners who were undergoing severe abuse and were basically being killed off. For no reason than being wens. Yes, I know it was common in ancient china to kill off the whole family. But it’s not right. Wei wuxian doesn’t think so. And neither do i.

He used it to bring back Wen Ning for Wen qing.

- I don’t know where I read it that he brought him back for protection or as a weapon. He didn’t. He was pissed at what they did to him, and brought him to allow him to tell wei ying who had kill him then allowed him to get his revenge. He than made him sentient because he had promise wen qing & the other wen members that he could bring him back. He promised his sister that he could bring her brother back. That’s why.

He used it to protect burial mounds and the wen remnants: A bunch of non-combatant members that he had grown to love and care about as family. As you can see here:

“ He turned around, knowing that it’d be a long time before he’s get to see the people he was familiar with again.

But…right now, wasn’t he on his way to seeing people he was familiar with as well?”

He used it to fight back during the ambush. He doesn’t have a gold core; He literally cant wield a sword to defend himself. So he uses it to summon corpses to fight against Jin Zixun’s men.

· He uses it to fight in the Bloodbath of Nightless City, after Jin Guangshan announced that they were going ahead with killing the rest of the wens and wei ying, and the attending crowd voiced out their excitement over the prospect.

Second, the bloodbath at nightless city. Yes, it was a very brutal battle with many casualties. But these people were planning to kill him and the wens. They had decided it by the time he spoke up. It was a definite thing that was going to happen.

Now you can argue against the use of violence, and need of it. But while I am very anti-war myself, I still hold to the belief that there are some fights that are worth fighting for, that need to be fought for. The wen remnants were innocent, and no one, NO ONE, had the right to decide they needed to die just because they were wens. They were innocent people. They had not actively killed or participated in the massacre that the main wen sect had conducted, and being blood relations to the actual guilty party is not an indication of being guilty too.

You could also argue the value of 3000 lives against 50. I have seen people do it, and write metas about. But whats the value of 1 life or 10 or 50? How are we supposed to decide who deserve to live more? How is that anyway moral?

Wei wuxian didn’t act to choose one group of lives over the other. He did it to protect himself and the people he cared about, and that meant fighting against anyone who was actively intending to kill and harm them, and was an acting threat. As human being who, like any other being, has the right to defend himself, to protect himself, to survive and be able to live. 3000 people wanting to kill him, and wens doesn’t take away his right to do that. There isn’t a rule that if enough people want you dead and murdered, rightly or not, you should just let them go ahead with it and turn your belly up. That…just doesn’t make sense?

I am in acceptance that he is a grey character, with his flaws and his merits. What I am confused about is exactly how much black and white went into making his grey. Maybe because I watched tv show and read the novel at the about same time, I feel like I am missing something. Did I miss anything? Did he do anything else? Am I wrong? What do other people think? Where do you guys lie on your judgment of wei wuxian as person and on his moral stance?

#wei wuxian #Wei ying #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian meta #wei ying meta #the untamed meta #mo dao zu shi meta #yiling laozu #yiling patriarch

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infinitewarden · 3 years ago

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Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of your ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

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