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tarysande · 3 years ago

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S6 Thoughts: A Tale of Two Brothers

But wait! There’s more. Thoughts on the overall arc of the series, Heaven and Hell edition:

In S1, Lucifer is “vacationing” on Earth but doesn’t plan to return to Hell. Amenadiel spends that season trying so hard to force Lucifer back to Hell, where he “belongs,” that he himself Falls. We’ve got this role reversal of an angel doing evil things to return the devil (doing ... good things, like solving crimes) to Hell. It’s all very “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

In S2, Lucifer still has no plans to return permanently to Hell, but he’s willing to face it to save Chloe. Of course, this then leads to him experiencing his own forced hell-loop. Amenadiel is also conflicted. Though he’s changed enough that he no longer wants to force Lucifer back to Hell, he’s still uncertain where that leaves either of them. In fact, even when Lucifer pleads with Amenadiel to return him to Hell, Amenadiel refuses. However, when Mum plants the idea of returning to Heaven as a family, Amenadiel clings to that. He’s looking for a purpose. Lucifer, on the other hand, is still very much aboard the Heaven nope train. Here, we also get the foreshadowing of celestial war, and Lucifer’s rejection of Mum’s plan because “In war, there are always casualties.” He would rather sacrifice one--Mum, Uriel--for the many. But it hurts him. If he belongs anywhere, he thinks, it’s Earth ... but, ultimately, that’s shortsighted because we know he doesn’t actually want to be on an Earth that doesn’t have the people he’s coming to care about on it.

S3 is, as we all know, a bit of a mess. But, hey, it’s actually thematically appropriate! Lucifer’s having an identity crisis (wings) that just keeps giving (or taking), and even though subconsciously (we later realize) he gave himself the wings because he was, in fact, making progress reconciling his past and present, his conscious is backsliding like (pun not intended) hell. Much as he wants Earth to be home, he’s got these non-stop reminders of both Heaven and Hell. It makes complete narrative sense that this season reaches the point where he can no longer hide from himself--or from Chloe.

In this season, we also see Amenadiel really start to settle into the idea of staying on Earth, of embracing humanity. He’s shedding the aloofness he once had. He’s learning (we later realize) how to be the kind of God who sheds mysterious ways in favor of boots on the ground. I mean, he doesn’t realize this. But Dad ... well, he has a Plan. Lucifer begins the season with sudden wings. Amenadiel ends it with his wings’ very deliberate return.

In many ways, this season is about Hell on Earth and torture at the hands of an entity far more intentionally and deliberately evil than the actual devil. This is why the catalyst of Cain is so important. He is all the things Lucifer has been accused of being, only he embraces it in ways we’ve seen Lucifer reject and recoil from again and again. This season is torture (lol). It’s Hell. It’s every ugly thing lies beget. And much as we love Lucifer, we’re given an extreme close-up of how his omission of truth is very nearly as devastating as Cain’s outright lies. Of course, this nearly results in Chloe’s death (in more ways than one; you can’t tell me that godforsaken marriage wouldn’t have been like dying), and the devil’s vengeance results in the removal of Lucifer’s choice about the where and when to reveal his true nature to Chloe.

Which brings us to S4, aka The Season of Angst. For Lucifer (and Chloe), anyway. Not so much for Amenadiel, who is set on the path of fatherhood, of responsibility, of partnership and not just commands he expects to be followed. In case we’ve forgotten how much Amenadiel has changed, Remiel “mini-Amen” shows up to remind us. In Linda’s “When angels fall, they also rise” of it, Amenadiel is rising again. He’s not the same as he was, no, but ... we didn’t like old Amenadiel very much, did we? Like Lucifer, Amenadiel is on a journey of learning who he is, the good and the ugly, so he can choose the parts he wants to keep with both eyes open.

Of course, while Amenadiel is rising, Lucifer is falling. In having to deal with Chloe’s reaction to his devil face, Lucifer is put in the uncomfortable position of either growing enough to face his own darkness and self-loathing or retreating, very literally, into who he used to be because it’s comfortable and less frightening than the prospect of change and the unknown. Until it isn’t, right? The more he becomes the devil Eve remembers, the more uncomfortable he becomes. And the more frightening he becomes. Not to Chloe, as he fears, but to himself--though it takes a while to recognize it. If nothing else, we have to hand this to Lucifer’s subconscious: when it wants him to PAY ATTENTION DUMMY, it’s pretty good at getting its point across. If S3 was Hell on Earth starring Cain as the devil, S4 is Hell on Earth starring, well, the devil as the devil with bonus demons. It’s Lucifer’s earthbound iteration of a guilt-induced hell-loop. And at the tragic end, he chooses to return to the place he swore he’d never return, losing everything good in the process, but doing it for selfless reasons. So, that’s new. And it’s why there was still a sliver of hope even when things looked impossibly dark.

S5 begins with Lucifer in Hell--farther from the things he cares about than he has ever been, but also closer to his true calling. Not that he realizes it; this is Lucifer we’re talking about. So, of course it makes sense that as the season goes on, he’ll end up confused by suddenly having everything he always thought he wanted within his grasp. The Lucifer who led a rebellion against his father because he thought he could do better than God? Of course that part of him wants to be handed the job now. No--he wants to earn it. And while some of his reasons are not great, others are. His heartbreak about the injustice and unfairness of life, well ... who hasn’t felt that way? Who hasn’t wanted the power to unilaterally make things better? But that’s not how free will works. That’s not how choice works. While Lucifer wrestles with the necessity of becoming God, Amenadiel recoils from what his S1 self would have seen as his right and his calling. S1 Amenadiel would have made a terrifying and inflexible and absolute and judgmental God. Perhaps even a God closer to our imaginings of Evil than Good.

S6 is about how sometimes personal growth means we grow out of old dreams and acquire new ones. Sometimes, it’s about reimagining those old dreams, rebuilding them with new information. For Amenadiel, that means recognizing that the person he is now is the best man for the Big Job. It means recognizing that Heaven can be (a place) on Earth if he wants it to be. It means he sets aside the pride of “If God wants something done, he sends ME” in favor of delegation and accepting help--and in doing so, helping others (his siblings) discover their callings too. He learns to lead by example, tempered with love and humility.

In Paradise Lost, Milton’s Lucifer famously declares that it is better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven. But our Lucifer ... his calling isn’t ruling in Heaven. That’s the old dream of a person who no longer exists. Ironically, Lucifer’s calling is to serve in Hell. Not to serve a distant, ineffable, unfathomable being’s mysterious ways, mind you, but to tangibly serve the humans he has come to love, and who have taught him so much about himself. Who have taught him about love and sacrifice and light and darkness and second chances and hope and faith. When Lucifer chooses to return to Hell, he does so with his eyes open, just as Chloe returns to the LAPD with her eyes open. It’s a lesson that revisits the first episode of the season: Truth and wonder don’t have to be at odds. They can go hand in hand. The mysteries at the heart of pain and suffering and trauma--those are the ones Lucifer wants to solve. Because solving them isn’t about trusting to a higher power (aka the justice system, which is flawed) or designing the perfect torture. It’s about quite literally helping others set themselves free. Finding release. It’s about being a guide, not a judge. And it’s about fulfilling not the temporary desire that merely scratches the itch, but offering the tools necessary to help others determine--choose--their path to the desire they may not even realize is buried beneath the layers of scar tissue within them. And what could be more wonderous than that? Especially when you have a partner who makes you better at your calling, even as you make them better at theirs.

In the end, Heaven and Hell are what we make of them. One person’s Heaven is another person’s Hell. Love is what matters. In all its many, many forms.

#lucifer on netflix #lucifer morningstar #amenadiel #lucifer meta #chloe decker #lucifer thoughts #lucifer spoilers #lucifer s6 #lucifer s6 spoilers #long text post

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zodiyack · 4 years ago

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Voice

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD mention, I think that’s it

Words: 1,797

Summary: Tommy wants to spend the rest of his life with Y/n. A peculiar little thing about life is that you never stop learning, and Tommy learns a thing or two, letting Y/n learn more about him in return...or is it him who learns from her?

Note: I suck at words, Tommy Shelby edition. And I couldn’t come up with a summary or title for this so know that if they don’t make sense together (or the story at all)...I know.

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @jenepleurepasbaby, @stydia-4-ever, @stuckysslag, @marquelapage, @i-love-superhero, @psychkunox, @tommyxshelby

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

The morning he met her was the first morning of many that his genuinely eyes opened since the war. Trauma had changed his life for what he thought was a permanent turn for the worst, but upon meeting her, it seemed that heaven was within his grasp once more. Impossible, he thought at first. Yet, later, when he put more thought into it, perhaps his redemption was actually there.

So the next time he saw her, he took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was no longer a boy, and went for it. Alas, his confidence joined him under the definition of cowardice in the very least second; she titled her head, innocent eyes sparkling with curiosity as she awaited whatever he had to say. But no words left his lips. She snatched them away with something even Thomas didn’t know of.

“Are you alright?” She asked, the concern in her voice lifting his spirits high as a warm feeling entered his body. It was the first time in what felt like centuries that a feeling as happy as that coursed through him.

It was also the first time that he was left without words. He tried, opening his mouth as if it were as easy as that to get the things he needed to say out, but he was still without anything but air.

“Sir?” Her brows furrowed. He couldn’t tell whether she was getting annoyed, scared, or just overly frightened for him, but he closed his mouth and reminded himself to breathe. Do not forget to breathe.

Was he sure he was a man? Or was he a boy once again? The same boy before the war who would blush and flirt teasingly, who held so much joy that his cheeks hurt.

And then it happened.

A smile grew upon his lips and he nodded.

A chuckle of relief left her mouth and she lifted her hand to her chest, resting it over her heart. “Oh thank fucking god- I admit, I was rather worried there. For both you and I!” She averted her eyes for a split second before redirecting them to his. “If you aren’t in any trouble... Is there anything I can help you with?”

The words were still lodged in his throat. So he did the only thing he could think of and sheepishly shook his head, turned, and left.

More interactions occurred between the two until one day, when she showed up at his office in search of a job. Lizzie knocked at his door, announcing that he had an appointment.

“Send ‘em in.” He replied lightly, not even lifting his eyes from the paper in front of him. Lizzie took a second, waiting for the moment that would never come- the one where he took a second away from work to actually look people in the face, but gave in with a sigh and closed the door.

“Go on in, hon.” She nodded her head to the door, returning to the typewriter and resuming her work.

It was silent aside from Lizzie’s typing. The click clacking of the keys, letters stamping the ink onto the paper, the quickness of her fingers at work. Y/n got lost in it momentarily before the noise suddenly ceased. Lizzie lifted her head, a brow quirked as she stared and waited for Y/n to enter Thomas’ office.

“Finally. Ahem, I suppose you’re here for...” Tommy started when the door squeaked open again but trailed off when he finally lifted his head. He couldn’t blink away the surprise, not this time. She truly caught him off guard.

And, apparently, him her.

“So he speaks? ...Ah- my apologies! Yes, Mr. Shelby, I’m here for a job...and, not on the topic of occupation, I would like to mention that you have a lovely voice. I think I’d enjoy hearing it more often.”

She definitely heard more of it.

Tommy gave her the job, and with it, a relationship. At first they were strictly boss and employee, but soon, it sparked into something more. Friendship. Good friendship. Close Friendship.

Then ...Romance.

The day came where Tommy learned a lesson or two about love from someone he deeply admired and respected. Someone close, someone he loved but not in the way he did Y/n. Polly Gray payed her nephew a visit and taught him the thing he dreaded but knew he’d have to face eventually.

“If you want her to some day be your wife, then you have to let her in!” She’d taken a liking to Y/n as well. After all, she was technically Y/n’s boss as well, so she met the woman and didn’t hesitate in accepting their relationship. “She knows what you let her about this business, but one day she’ll either want to know more or find out on her own accord.”

Pol wasn’t just talking about business. She meant honesty in every way he could describe it. The depressive sides he hid from even his family, his brothers whom suffered the same aside, and so much more the world had yet to see. He could either hide it or show her, but one day it would come into the light.

It was true, and unpleasantly so. The downside to being part of the Peaky Blinders was one that came with life in general; Love wasn’t easy. If he wanted, he could just force Y/n out of the country, forget about her, and move on. She’d be safe and he’d be happy knowing she was, but deep down, he was too much of a coward to do something like that. Too afraid of what could happen to her, to her feelings, to his own...

So Tommy listened and grew a metaphorical pair. The night he planned on opening up to her, an uneasy feeling nagged at his gut. This was his one shot. His shot at being with the love of his life, creating a family and knowing what it feels like to be loved by someone, and not in a platonic way. He held onto the feeling she gave him and used it to power his courage.

“Are you alright, Tommy?” Her gentle hand that previously combed through his hair came into contact with his jaw. Not harsh, but gentle. Softly guiding his head, she forced his bright blue orbs to meet hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Her hand moved up slightly to caress his cheek. Thomas leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment. He truly felt youth envelope him whenever he was with her. His demons faded as if they never existed in the first place every time her presence was with his.

Then, he lifted his hand to meet her wrist. He took the other with the same grip and opened his eyes, looking into her with the same admiration she had only mere minutes ago. “I know.”

“Then tell me...what’s bothering you?”

Tommy thought for a second, but just as the first time he tried to form words, his cowardliness came a ’nocking on his door. “It’s nothing, love. How ‘bout we sleep, yeah?”

Y/n hesitated but nodded, curling into his side and drifting off slowly. It took him a bit longer, but by midnight, the two were out cold. Of course, he never stayed asleep long. She didn’t know that, however. Tommy never let her stay the night until tonight, afraid of what she would think of his softer, more fearful side when he was too overwhelmed to hide it.

He awoke with a start, chest heaving heavily and breath so terribly uneven, one would think he were on the brink of death. That’s what he felt like. As though he were on the smallest ledge, seconds away from cracking down the part of which connected him too the land full of life and dropping him into the deepest pits of hell itself. Tommy’s nightmare woke Y/n too.

She was drowning in concern the second her eyes snapped open. “Tommy- Tommy!” He couldn’t help but panic, the PTSD too much for him, “Hey- hey, I’m here. Okay? It’s me.” she didn’t blame him. Instead, she gripped his wrists like he did hers and softly ushered him back into his calm state. Her whispers were reassuring and brought him back to reality, soothing his mind with powers similar to a siren’s.

“Y/n- I’m sorry-” He spoke hurriedly after she lit a candle- it provided them with enough light to see one another, not that the moon didn’t already do that enough.

“Don’t be. From the looks of it, this isn’t the first time this has happened.” She didn’t sound tired, not even a blink of sleep left in her eyes nor voice. “Tommy... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy was a little taken aback by her lack of fear or other emotions like disgust, although he couldn’t quite think of a single reason as to why she’d feel that of all things, but answered her as honestly as he could. Just like Polly told him too. “I’m not sure... I was...cowardly. Though you’d be ashamed or something.”

She squinted at him, “Why on earth would I feel ashamed?”

A few seconds went by of his eyes darting around as he mentally searched for a possible answer and he came up blank. Thomas shrugged, “Fuck... I don’t even fucking know.”

They shared a chuckle, hushed but still very much real. Y/n caressed his cheeks again, tracing his beautifully sculpted features with gentle fingers.

“I love,” her eyes scanned his face lovingly, “every part of you. Whether you like a detail about you or not, I will love it with every fiber of my being. The good, the bad...the mildly confusing,” he chuckled with her, “I love it.”

Y/n pulled away from him and leaned him. She blew out the candle then readjusted her position under the sheets, squirming into Tommy’s side and resting her head atop his chest. It rose and fell with each breath he took, his torso lifting her head and dropping it as carefully as one would rock a baby.

“I’m here now, and I’m here to stay. We can either stay awake or, you can lie down with me and get through this shit together. Either way, I’m not letting you face anything else alone.”

“Y/n-” He was going to tell her that it was fine, shove another lie to hide his worries despite inevitable discovery.

“I mean it, Thomas. For as long as I live, you will never have to carry your struggles by your lonesome. So, in the morning, you can tell me what I’m gonna be helping you with.” She paused before cracking a smile. “After all, you know how much I love your voice.”

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #x reader #zodiyack #reader insert #imagine #tommy shelby imagine #all readers #cillian murphy imagine #this is so confusing so i can't blame you if you think that as well #writing at midnight after taking meds may not have great outcomes #but i haven't posted in five does so i say fuck it

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kairos-polaris · 4 years ago

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Eris(Demon’s daughter)

Demon's head daughter couldn't be anything other than perfect. She must master every martial art. Her education must be flawless. Failure is not a choice. Even the smallest mistake is a disgrace.

Marinette knew it. That’s why spent hours and hours training and perfectimg her form. But something was lacking and she craved to find it.

Chapter 2, 3, 4, 5

On the far east, high up in the mountains is a city, Nanda Parbat. There hides and lives Ra's al Ghul, the demon's head.

The walls in Nanda Parbat have no warmth. They're permanently soaked in blood and death. At night you can hear the anguish screams of the long dead.

In a small room without windows lives a girl with eyes as blue as sapphires and hair as black as night. Dark skin makes pale scars visible.

The only welcome visitor is the girl's sister. She will tend to the girl's wounds and help her prepare for sleep.

"You must be more careful, Marinette." Berated her Talia. "Your training will grow harder with time. You must be ready for this, ya albi. I can't lose you."

"Why do we have to train so hard?"

"Father has a lot of enemies. We must know how to protect ourselves," Talia answers softly.

"The League doesn't condone uselessness and everyone must reach a certain standard. It's even higher for us because of our father. And I am sure you enjoy a part of your training, don't you?"

"Yes, I enjoyed training with Lady Shiva. She taught me how to use a war fan. Dansen uchiwa* is my favorite, but mubuchae is nice, too." At her sister's questioning look she continued: It protects my arm and I can use it to dodge attacks. Then I will stab the attacker using balisong**. .. And I can also.." the next fifteen minutes were spent discussing different ways of using war fans and daggers. They briefly touched on the subject of Japanese martial arts and weapon making.

"...and that's why I prefer straight blades." Talia stopped talking and looked at Marinette. The girl was staring at the wall.

"Why can't we just leave?" Marinette suddenly spoke. "We would go everywhere and stay nowhere. You could pose as my guardian. If anyone asked about parents, we would give them a sob story about their death." The brief training with Lady Shiva made the walls in Nanda Parbat feel more suffocating than before.

"Oh, ya albi, you know that's impossible. Father would track us down immediately. He has ears and eyes everywhere." Talia chuckled bitterly. Somehow her answer made Mari more enthusiastic.

"But you want to run away! That's what matters! One day we will bribe Nyssa and she will help us. And we won't have to live under our father's tumb."

Talia just hugged her sister. Getting out of the League of Shadows was impossible for them. Especially for them. She could only pray that Marinette would be happy one day.

***

Eight-year-old Marinette understood it the day she failed for the first time. She stood there, before her father, waiting for his verdict. The small voice in her head whispered how it wasn’t her fault, that even famous designers don’t have this much security as Gabriel Agreste does. “I should have been prepared for everything. This failure will be my lesson if I survive this,” she thought bitterly.

Demon's head daughter couldn't be anything other than perfect. She must master every martial art. Her education must be flawless. Failure is not a choice. Even the smallest mistake is a disgrace.

Demon's head daughter isn't a child, she's a weapon. A perfectly sharpened dagger.

"You failed me, Marinette. Not only you didn’t kill that man, but you were caught and Talia had to save you. As your master, I’m furious, as your father, I’m disappointed.”

The cold stone hurt her knees and her ears burnt from embarrassment. His words were sharper than the sharpest knife. That’s why he is called Demon’s Head after all.

“I’m sorry, father. It won’t happen again. I..” Marinette tried her best not to falter under Ra’s’ glare. “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.” His words left goosebumps on her skin and Marinette had to bite her tongue to stay silent. “Your actions will have consequences, so be prepared for your punishment. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, father,” she answered softly, but Ra’s seemed satisfied and dismissed Marinette to her room. She left as fast as possible.In her room, she would think about the nature of punishment and try to be prepared. Hey, how does one prepare for their death?

Marinette was sure Ra’s wouldn’t let her walk away without proper punishment, but she decided to humor her sister.

***

After that Marinette had to spend even more time training and studying. Talia was happy to hear that. “Ya albi, if you continue training, you won’t fail again. You were lucky father decided to pardon you.”

Marinette spent a lot of time practicing with her blades and darts. War fans slowly became her weapon of choice. You can hide it. You can show off with it. There are multiple ways of using it making it perfect for Marinette.

Unfortunately, Marinette never used sharp tessen during practice. Later, Marinette would regret it, because fighting ten trained and armed assassins with two fans wasn’t her definition of fun.

Scratch it. It was hell. Given the number of attacks, she could avoid them only for so long. She couldn’t take out her daggers.

Swish. Kick. Jump. Repeat.

Marinette slowly rose from the water. The first thing she noticed was the absence of scars. "How many new scars will litter my skin before I die again?" She wondered silently.

Marinette was skilled, but so were the assassins. And it still took them an hour to take her down. “At least I managed to injure them, too.”

***

Waking up in Lazarus' Pits wasn't something she wanted to repeat ever again. The water felt gross on her skin and the smell made her want to throw up.

Another prominent difference was anxiety she could feel in her bones. She craved to do something, to the blood of her killers on her hands, to feel how life leaves their bodies. A whisper in her head sung how glorious it would feel to get her revenge.

"It's not punishment when I feel so high and mighty, father. It's a gift I will treasure." With these words Marinette dug her nails into her arm, leaving small marks. The skin felt too clean for her.

“Marinette,” he greeted her. “I see you’re feeling better now. What is the reason behind your visit?”

In this state, Marinette didn't notice her sister entered. Talia stood there watching the last bits of Marinette's innocence fly to hell. It was the point of no return.

***

Ra’s was sitting in his room when he felt movement behind him.

Marinette tilted her head and slowly answered; “I wanted to ask your permission to return the favor.”

“You can do whatever you want to them. Just leave them alive. But you were very effective at taking them down, so three of them can’t stand.” This was the closest thing to praise she could ever hear from Ra’s al Ghul.

One time Talia gave her a book with Greek myths. It soon became her favorite book. She loved the stories about gods, and heroes, and monsters. The heroes knew when to kill and when to spare someone. Marinette could admire this.

“Thank you, father.” With a small nod, she left to enact her revenge. If there were more screams than usual, nobody paid attention to it.

***

Reading was a great way to escape reality. Books told her about different worlds and people. Unfortunately, Ra’s had to approve every book given to her. Only for very significant achievement could she read something other than textbooks.

“I just don’t understand what you see in that fury! His enemies constantly escape Arkham and he still won’t kill them. His negligence hurts other people and they still call him a hero! Father respects him, too!” it wasn’t a common occurrence for them to argue about Batman, but Marinette was just too annoyed with Talia’s pinning.

“Bruce impressed our father with his skills and devotion to a cause. Bruce is hopeful. He believes everyone can change and be a better version of themselves. We know that’s not true and some people will never change.”

Marinette wasn’t impressed. “I know some people can’t change. We work with some of them.” Talia just laughed at her expression..

“One day you will fall in love. That day you will understand me.”

“Ew, disgusting. I will never, ever fall in love. Especially not with a hero. I’m sure of it.” Talia just shook her head fondly. Her little sister still has so much to learn.

“And where will you go, Marinette?” Asked Talia. Marinette spared her a glance noting bags under her eyes and multiple cuts.

***

Eleven-year-old Marinette had an agency. She had a goal. She knew what she wanted to do.

“Gotham. I will tell Batman everything I know about the Light. But don’t think I do it to help him. I want to destroy everything for our father.” She threw a suitcase with much more force than needed.

“Why now? You seemed so eager to please him.”

“Pits did something with my brain and changed my memories about The fight. I thought it was their own decision. With this knowledge I asked father for permission to avenge myself. My overall perception of him changed.”

“And now you are angry. But you shouldn’t run away like this. Batman won’t trust you. He will think you are a double agent sent by the League.” Marinette just grinned at that.

“I will give B information and leave immediately. I’m going to travel the world. I have money and I can take care of myself.” Talia sighed and took Marinete’s face in her hands.

“I know I can’t change your mind, but please be safe, ya albi.” She whispered softly.

“Thank you, Tals.”

“You are more important to me than our father.”

#maribat #marinette is an assasin #good sister talia #eris (the demon's daughter)

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amelia · 3 years ago

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related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

#i literally do apologize for how long this got but you have to understand i was holding myself back .#she is…. everything. to me. i could keep going for so long #amy pond #ask #jonismitchell

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pi-cat000 · 3 years ago

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BNHA: something sad (Grief)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ AU.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS: Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst. destructive behaviour.

(Additional part here)

(Grief- Katsuki self reflects and visits Izuku’s grave)

Katsuki knows he has a volatile personality, probably inherited it from his mum, and enough attitude that he has steamrolled his way through life without much difficulty. Things annoyed him easily and he got irritable at the drop of a hat. He has enough self-awareness to recognise that as a flaw, even if he had never seen it as much of a problem.

There was a difference between irritation and anger. Deku had always made him angry, inducing a burning hot sensation that ate at his insides. Now Deku was gone and he couldn't turn any of it off. It was like the world was suck behind a filthy pane of glass that he couldn’t smash through no matter how hard he tried.

Katsuki watches the head of his Kamui Woods figurine bend at an odd angle as the plastic began to superheat, having been exposed to a string of minor blasts. He had been slowly working his way through his figurine collection as both quirk training and to take the edge off his anger. Melting this figurine was particularly cathartic.

“Perhaps we should look into getting you some new hobbies.”

Katsuki shifts his focus to glare at his father who stands at his bedroom door, an expression of worry pulling at his features. No surprises there, worry was his father’s default response to anything Katsuki did these days.

“Not interested.”

“Something to get you out of the apartment,” his father continues to which Katsuki narrows his eyes. He wouldn’t be in the apartment if he had any say in it. Both his parents know this.

“Some physical activity where you’ll be able to let loose without having to worry about property damage. I have a colleague whose brother runs a kickboxing studio. I can make arrangements for you to spend time…”

“I said, I’m not interested,” he grumbles, returning to his current distraction.

“Well, I want you to think about it,” his dad instructs, “It would do you a lot of good and it’s something you’re passionate about….”

The figurine Katsuki is holding begins to blacken, colours melting away under his tiny, controlled bursts. There is an unhappy sigh from his father and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. He growls and the figurine explodes with a small Bang. Melted plastic is flung across his walls and floor.

He knows what his dad is trying to do…

How many times had he begged his parents for better training opportunities, for karate or boxing lessons, only to be denied due to money restraints? Outside of a few judo lessons he had received as a birthday gift from Inko one year, any combat training he did he had been self-taught.

Now he’s no longer interested, his parents are practically threatening him with extracurricular activities.

It’s fucking annoying is what it is.

He reaches for another figurine only to find that he has none left aside from his limited edition All Might collection. He lets out an angry breath, trying to rid himself of his restless irritation. It doesn’t work, and he ends up standing so he can pace back and forth, listening to the pop, pop, focusing on his tingling skin as sparks run up and down his arms. It keeps him distracted for all of two seconds.

Usually, he would be at the library studying, or going on long runs and working on his physical conditioning. Sometimes, he would meet up with a few of the loser-extras from school and they would visit an arcade. Recently, he had taken to wandering through the streets around his neighbourhood, waiting for something to piss him off enough that his mind would white-out in pure rage and could forget reality for a few seconds. Obviously, that had become a lot harder after several run-ins with the local police had had him all but permanently grounded outside of school hours.

This is what he wanted… he remains himself. His plan to piss people off enough that he received some iota of punishment was working like a charm so, of course, it sucked. He hated it, but then, he hated all the alternatives as well so what did any of it matter.

Katsuki ends up with his ear pressed against the door, listening for activity in the living room, waiting for an opportunity to make a break for it. He needs to be careful because Aunt Inko is visiting and the last thing he wants is to see her stupid, sympathetic smile.

When it sounds like the coast is clear, he creeps out, stealing down the hall. Muffled voices from the kitchen are all the encouragement he needs to beeline for the door and slip out before anyone can spot him. He’ll be in trouble for this later. He’s counting on it.

The hot summer air is a welcome change from the chill of air conditioning. There is the loud buzz of cicadas, chirping away in the sticky heat. He picks a direction and walks, not caring that he is wearing the sweatpants and the black singlet he had slept in. If someone has a problem with his presentation, he is more than willing to throw down.

Unfortunately, the relief being out of the apartment brings is short-lived. Today, a feeling of discomfort follows after him which has nothing to do with the heat. A bubbling frustration that bites at his heels as he stalks the streets. It is that feeling he has come to associate with times when all his rage burns away, leaving him numb.

He doesn’t plan to stop at the florists, he just sort of does.

He turns suddenly into the store before he can properly process what he is doing. The chime on the glass door rings and the sickly-sweet smell of the store has his nose wrinkling. Before he can chicken out and retreat, he walks to the counter.

“How much?” He snaps at the older lady in overalls manning the register, pointing at the nearest bunch of white flowers. He has no idea what type they are but that wasn’t the point wasn't it?

“Ah,” The woman squints at him, taken back “That depends how many you want?”

“I don’t care” He smacks the few yen he has on the counter, “However many that’ll get me. Don’t rip me off.”

The woman nods slowly, “Do you just want these specifically? You don’t want to add some more colour to the bouquet? White is a bit of a dower colour.”

“Whatever is cheapest…just make it quick.” He is already regretting coming in.

The woman hums, pulling out a roll of paper, beginning to place and wrap the flowers Katsuki had pointed to.

“Who are they for if I may ask?”

“No.”

“Oh? A special friend maybe,” She begins to tease.

“He’s dead,” he snaps abruptly, “and he’s not my friend. Just give me the damn flowers.” Why did people always make this shit more difficult than it needed to be?

The old hag is silent after that, awkwardly finalising his purchase which ends up being an assortment of white flowers with a few smaller yellow and red ones scattered between. It almost looks pretty and it is sickly-sweet smelling, just like the store.

He tries no to think about his destination as he walks with renewed deliberation. He doesn’t think about it right up until he is practically walking into the low stone wall nearest the gate. The shock of seeing the place has him freezing in place, breath catching. The last time he had been here had been during the funeral.

There are lines of thin, tightly packed, gave markers, rising horizontally on sets on uneven steps. There is barely room for people to pass between them on the narrow, flagstone path. Trees are scattered throughout the space, providing patches of uneven shade. The noise of the cicadas is louder here, almost oppressive in its throbbing hum. For a moment, all he wants to do is walk up to the nearest stone and blow it all sky high. Then he would be sure to flatten every marker in the place until the land was a barren waste. That would get him arrested for sure. The thought passes quickly, and his eyes slide away from the cemetery to his flowers. They don’t look nearly as nice now he has almost strangled them with an unintentionally tight grip.

He breaths out, resisting the urge to set something on fire. Slowly, he walks up the steps, passing the small temple at the entrance. Deku is buried further in, his stone modest in size when compared to the others.

“Deku…” He grows out a greeting when he arrives and it gets caught in his throat. The stone, obviously, does not respond.

Before he can accidentally blow them up, he carefully places the flowers next to the small pile already adorning the small stone. There are more offerings than he expects to be there. He recognises a few of the names from school. One larger bunch looks especially expensive and elaborate, monopolising most of the limited surface space.

‘From Yagi Toshinori’ the card attached reads. Katsuki doesn’t recognise the name.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, he didn’t know shit about Deku other than their shared ambition to be a hero.

“Deku…” Why the fuck is he having trouble talking, “You’re...” He stops.

“You’re a fucking moron,” he manages to spit.

“I didn’t need you to save me.” The anger is burning so hot that its almost unbearable. Pop, pop, his hands fizzle. “I didn’t want your help.”

BANG! He makes sure the explosion is directed away from the stone and up into the sky. The small shock wave it produces rustles the flowers and nearby trees. All the cicadas stop chirping at once, plunging the area into an eerie quiet. His legs feel shaky and he is practically vibrating with anger.

“What did you think a quirkless idiot could have done!”

Save his pathetic life while the real Heroes watch him suffocate from the side-lines? His brain supplies an answer. It was all a big joke wasn’t it? The bastards had all watched Deku die. That was what a Hero did apparently, wait for backup while someone died because it was safer for them. Safer for the Hero.

His legs give way and he falls to his knees, curling his hands into fists, jaw locking up. Finally, the haze of anger falls away and his mind quietens. Everything was painfully clear now. People didn’t care when Katsuki yelled, swore, and hurt other kids, because his quirk was amazing, making him amazing. What a joke. If he hadn’t had his quirk, then the Slime Bastard would have had nothing to work with, and Deku might still be alive.

“I’m…I’m fucking sorry okay." He had always treated Deku like shit and he doesn’t think, if their positions had been reversed…he doesn’t think that he would have even thought about saving someone like himself.

The truth stings. He slams his fist into the flagstone next to him and he watches it crack.

"I’m sorry…”

He was lucky…that’s all he was… He wasn’t special… he was just an average human with a good work ethic and a garbage personality who just happened to have a powerful quirk.

He wasn’t a hero…well, not one like Deku had tried to be…like Deku had been…

He didn’t even want to be a hero...not anymore...He doesn’t know what he wants.

“Damnit…” the words have no heat behind them. The explosive rage that had been burning continuously in his chest for the last week simmers, snuffing out like a candle. There is a hole where his anger had eaten away at something fundamentally him, leaving empty space.

Katsuki leans forward, letting his head thump against the stone.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #boku no academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugō #major character death #Sludge Villain incident gone wrong #angst #all the angst #coarse language #swearing #anger and grief #visiting graves #katuski has a sad time #something sad au #fanfiction

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rockofeye · 4 years ago

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Out of the depths.

It is somehow appropriate that a re-emergence and re-alignment comes with the beginning of the month of May. May is a big month for vodouizan; we celebrate Kouzen and all his family this month and, for people from Jacmel, it is a month devoted to celebrating Jacmel's heritage, which is tied closely to Kouzen. It is said Jacmel is where Kouzen was from before he went to more rural areas; it's not a coincidence that fet Jacmel and fet St Jacques e St Philippe (the patrons of Jacmel) are celebrated on the same days as fet Kouzen (May 1 and May 2).

I've been thinking about Kouzen a lot lately. It's been a difficult year in a lot of ways, but not a bad year. COVID has really permanently changed how things in my professional field work, and with the help of Kouzen and a few of my other lwa, I managed to leverage that into a position using all my professional strengths with the org that has been my target for employment for years. Landing that has not only been life-changing and future-solidifying, but really reinforces that I know what I know and that I am an expert at what I do.

That's a lesson that comes from Kouzen, and it's one that I struggle to learn and remember in my life. Kouzen shows me balance: he is the expert worker in his field (literal and figurative), but you might never know that from how he does his work. Underestimate him and you'll find out, but how he carries himself keeps his mastery of work and growth and agriculture from being the first thing that you see.

I'm pretty okay with that part, but that's the part I get tripped up about. I don't find anything fulfilling professionally or personally about illustrating what I know,, but there is a difference between going about your business and actively hiding from those moments where you can insert who you are and what you know.

I'm a hider. It might sound kind of funny coming from someone who has been writing a blog in the internet for close to a decade, but it's true: I am actually pretty shy and private and being the center of attention--professional or personal--is kind of horrifying to me. I've reached the point in my life where I don't feel I have a lot to prove because I know what I know, but in many ways that's just not possible for me. I don't work in a field where I can just close my office door and have it all be fine, and the lwa have made clear time after time that I cannot just ride off into Ginen with them and live a private life.

This has something that is always a struggle for me because I am introverted and like my alone space and time. It comes back to the good ol' lessons the lwa want me to learn over and over: balance and vulnerability. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes I react like a cat thrown into a bathtub full of water. The lwa win some, I lose some.

I had to get my ass in gear with the notions of balance and putting myself out there and being vulnerable in knowing my worth and demanding (politely) that it be recognized when I found myself completely dissatisfied with my job(s). I was working two jobs (houngans and manbos know about that hustle...) and making good money, but I was ready to work one job and free up time for spiritual work and projects.

I took a chance and applied for a job that was juuuuust within my experience. It was definitely bigger than what I was doing and while it was within my experience level, I honestly wasn't perfectly qualified....but you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, so I buffed up the resume, sent it off, and sat with my lwa about it. I told them that if this was where I was supposed to go next, I knew they would clear the way.

I didn't get it.

I made it through two rounds of interviews, but ultimately there was an incumbent with 10 more years of experience than I have, and that's almost always a losing equation. I was okay with it because I still had work and at the end of the day, I don't have to love my job to cash the paychecks.

BUT....the lwa had another plan. The team of interviewers liked me, and so I got headhunted for a position that was very, very in line with my professional experience and goals. I spoke with them several times about it and they made me an offer....and it was so low I almost rejected the offer outright.

I was both angry and scared at the same time; angry because the salary offer was ridiculously offensive based on my career history and scared because I have never been in a position to turn down a job offer or, honestly, negotiate.

This time was the first time in my life that I was planning to leave a job because I wanted to. I grew up in a upper working class home and as an adult have spent too much time jobless and underemployed to discount steady work and a regular paycheck. It was scary as hell to be staring down the possibility of kicking the steady paycheck to the side in favor of taking a step into the unknown.

When I got the offer letter, I sat down with the lwa and literally cried because I was so burned out with my other job that it was affecting my performance, but here I was getting a bullshit offer for a hugely involved job. It felt like a loss if I took it and affirmed that both my experience and what they were asking of me was only worth what they were offering. It felt like a loss if I didn't take it, because those opportunities do not come alone like that very often.

It was such a moment of unique despair. Like, I was not hurt or anything tragic but that feeling like I was painted into a corner and that the choices in front of me would leave me at a loss was HUGE and real. For me, when I feel like that it's hard for me to turn on the part if my brain that's analytical. I just need to sit in my misery for a minute (or more) until I get it together enough to figure out what to do.

That is where the blessing of Kouzen (and really all the lwa) came in. He told me to go back to the table, creat another option, and ask for my worth. Like, not swing my proverbial dick and be an asshole, but go be vulnerable and say that the offer was disappointing and that I expected more. So weird because it makes so much sense, right? And yet there I was totally sold that I was either going to be worked like a mule for less money than I was making already, or I was going to remain in The Bad Place until something else came along.

So I did. Even if I felt pessimistic about it (I did) and thought they would say no (convinced of it), I did what I was told because at the end of the day I agreed to sèvis lwa because I believe in the vision the lwa have for me. Some days I say that through gritted teeth, but that's my guiding principle and they have never let me down.

I sent in my counteroffer and waited for the 'we're sorry, but..' email. It was fucking scary. My agency is a behemoth in my field and has been around forever, so pushing back felt a little bit like David versus Goliath, and I didn't have the benefit of a sling and a rock.

It took two days but they got their offer almost to what I asked for, so I took it and it was a huge relief. I am sure that somewhere in the background Kouzen maybe did a quiet fist pump of 'Alex learned a thing' before going back to his work.

In all seriousness, that's a lesson I have struggled so hard with and it was a moment where I had to put it all into practice and rely on what the lwa have taught me as being an ultimate truth. Knowing my worth is not enough; I have to be able to communicate that in a way that both opens doors and doesn't get me used as a doormat. Not doing that seems like it would be almost offensive to Kouzen because, at least in this case, it would be essentially leaving money on the table and wasting it. My Kouzen is very rational about money, but the idea of not trying to set up my financial future makes his eyes bug out and would probably result in Having To Have A Conversation, which I avoid at all costs. Nothing like the lwa reminding you not to fuck up your own blessings.

Getting settled into this particular blessing has been what has been occupying my time the most these days. I came back from Haiti and went right into this job. I have finally clawed my way into administration and, in a very Kouzen twist, am responsible for managing several million dollars worth of grants and spending them both quickly and wisely. I work closely with the person in the position I originally interviewed for and am really happy I didn't get that job, as I am able much better fit where I am.

What else? In late January, I turned in a final draft of a chapter I was tapped to write for a book detailing the experiences of people who are converts to African Traditional and Diasporic religions. I'm excited to see the book when it comes out; I was the only writer on Haitian Vodou, and so it is chock full of other experiences from people from all different places who converted at some point in their life to a huge variety of African and African Descended religions and cultural practices. It's a project that has been in the works for several years, and it was interesting to see personal growth during my involvement in it and while tracking and detailing my journey from a fairly conservative Protestant upbringing to where I am now as a sèvitè lwa.

My living situation has changed up in the middle of this and I am once again at a point in my life where I have a dedicated space for my lwa. Living in one of the most expensive cities in the US has meant roommates and keeping my lwa in a closet in my room (my most recent roommate lovingly referred to them as the Closet People), but the lwa managed to swing it so I have a room dedicated to my spirits.

I have longing for that for so long...it's been years since that was a reality, and now it's finally a thing again. I always have the room for my lwa as my studio space too, since they are a creative force behind a lot of it, and it make my heart so full again to have room to spread out. It's such a gift for me. No more sitting down to pray and having my roommate start to have sex with their partner on the other side of the wall....I cannot tell you how many times that has happened.

Recently I listened to my mother tell some folks how to make tchaka/Kouzen's favorite meal. The regleman/ritual food is one of the most important parts of both ceremony and personal relationships with the lwa, and Kouzen reminded me that it had been quite awhile since I made him tchaka and boy his stomach would feel so much better with some tchaka in it and I already had a lot of the ingredients and wouldn't it be delicious to make some doumbrey for the tchaka too?

...so I went shopping for what I would need for tchaka for my beloved Kouzen because I have clearly neglected his stomach for too long. Living in a city with a huge Haitian population is great because the Haitian grocery store I went to had joumou/Haitian pumpkin, lalo sèk/dried jute leaves, tritri/tiny dried shrimp, djondjon/Haitian black mushrooms, fresh kowosol/soursop(!!!!!), and fresh lam veritab/breadfruit(!!!!!!!!!!).

It is so rare to find fresh kowosol and lam up here in New England because it def doesn't grow here and it doesn't last well when it's shipped....but it looked great today. The kowosol is going to be for me...ji kowosol ak lèt is a favorite, ESPECIALLY with a little Barbancourt poured in...and Kouzen will either get some tomtom or at least boiled lam veritab with his tchaka. Also have the makings of some bonbon siwo, so this husband is gonna eat GOOD. He deserves it.

And then...? Our live-on-Zoom socially distanced fet Kouzen will be sometime late in May. Making our fets available for folks to 'attend' at a distance has been surprisingly cool. I was not thrilled about the idea because of my personal hangups (I hate being on camera) but it's been really wonderful and has been a way for people who can't get to the temple to be able to share energy and get a taste of what a real Haitian fet is like. COVID isn't going away anytime soon, so we'll probably keep doing our fetes this way for awhile.

And...Haitian Summer is coming. I could write another whole post on what's going on down in Haiti, but I am very much looking forward to our kanzo and fet cycle this summer. My very favorite ceremonies are part of kanzo, and I love the opportunity to see the lwa in their home in the temple. I've been so lucky to be able to travel safely to Haiti several times during this mess, and it has fed my soul. It's safer for me and many of my family members now that we are vaccinated, so one less thing to worry about.

With Kouzen's month and the season of spring, I hope for growth in new directions for each of you, complete with all the blessings that Kouzen can bring: fertility and fecundity, inspiration, energy, commitment, rootedness, solid partnerships, and wise investments in self, community, relationships, and business ventures. May the fresh breeze bring you health with every breath and wealth with every exhale.

#vodou #haitian vodou #kouzen #kouzen zaka #azaka mede #fet kouzen #manje lwa #real vodou #voodoo

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 4 years ago

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After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

[Extra #8 - Lan Qiren’s visit to the Xuanli Child Horde(tm) at Jinlintai. This can be read as running parallel to Part 9 - Lan Xichen and Qingheng-Jun briefly discuss Lan Qiren’s return the previous evening from this particular visit while they have tea in the Gentian House.]

[Masterpost]

A quick brief on the children’s names and ages (now with courtesy names for the three brothers):

Jin Ling (金凌 - rise above) - First son, 20 // [Rulan (如兰 - Orchid-like)]

Jin Fei (金飞 - to fly) - Second son, 17 // [Ruhao (如昊 - as the limitless sky)]

Jin Yu (金雨 - rain) and Jin Yan (金焰 - fire) - First and Second daughters, 14

Jin Zhuang (金庄 - solemn) - Third son, 12 // [Ruhai (如海 - as the sea)]

Jin Lu (金露 - dew) - Third daughter, 7

Jin Ye (金烨 - breathtaking/blaze of fire) - Fourth daughter, 3

Lan Qiren can’t exactly fault his brother for not leaving the mountain. It is, after all, better than a lifetime of genuine seclusion, and in Lan Qiren’s opinion he’s really not missing much in the wider world that he couldn’t live perfectly happily without in Cloud Recesses. And he’s missing out on quite a great deal of headache as well.

It’s a well-known fact that Lan Qiren is often unhappy with the state of things in the other Sects that he visits, though he is of course nothing but polite to his hosts unless they ever do something to earn his vocal displeasure. He has had fewer and fewer causes to express such displeasures over the last few years, however, and he’s not willing to look too closely to see if it’s because the general population is altogether becoming more tolerable or because he’s growing softer and more tolerant as he ages.

If anyone had told him 20 years ago that Lanling Jin would be his preferred Sect to pay a visit to, he - well he wouldn’t have laughed in their face, of course, but he certainly would have doubted the soundness of their mind - perhaps to their face. Even after watching Jin Guangshan’s paper-thin reputation crumble like so many well-placed tiles (which had been immensely satisfying to watch) before his passing and his children (then just the eldest two) rising up to take his place, he never could have anticipated the sort of changes they would make - or how much he would come to appreciate their righteousness and fairness.

He had only had the opportunity to properly instruct Jin Zixuan during the summer lectures at Cloud Recesses when it had been his generation’s turn, but over the years he has, of course, gotten to know the rest of Jin Zixuan’s siblings - Meng Yao in particular, naturally, thanks to his courtship and subsequent marriage with Lan Xichen - and he has found them to be good, solid people. Even young Mo Xuanyu, though his eccentricities are..numerous.

The responsibility for Lan Qiren’s immunity to Mo Xuanyu’s strange behavior is to be laid solely at the feet of Wei Wuxian. When the child had come running into Cloud Recesses as a boy and loudly declared himself married to serious little Lan Wangji - who had agreed - he had cemented a permanent place in Lan Qiren’s life, whether he liked it or not. He’s immune to quite a bit more impropriety these days than he would have ever expected for himself as a younger man.

“Grandmaster Lan,” Qin Su says now with a smile where she’s waiting to greet him at the base of the steps up to Koi Tower and he returns it with a twitch of his lips that’s hardly visible through his beard. She seems to see it all the same as her polite smile grows into a grin as she reaches out to take his arm - quite improperly, though he’s long learned not to comment on it. The atmosphere at Lanling Jin in terms of familiarity and joyful disregard for formality of any kind in familial circumstances is rivaled only by Yunmeng Jiang these days.

“Qin-guniang,” he replies as they start up the steps. “I trust everything is well.”

“Of course! I wanted to see you when you arrived, that’s all. I’m leaving in a few hours to visit my parents and I won’t be returning until after your visit is concluded - I’m glad I could be here to greet you!”

Lan Qiren has never put much store in small talk. He tends to find it unnecessary, particularly when it’s unwarranted. Should anyone ever ask him, that is still the case. He isn’t quite sure, himself, why it doesn’t seem to apply to the Jin family anymore.

“Great Uncle Lan!!”

Lan Qiren doesn’t jump at the small voice shrieking his name when they reach the top of the stairs, nor does he startle when a small gold and teal blur comes streaking out of the Fragrance Hall to clamp thin arms around his legs. He looks down to find little Jin Lu giving him a gap-toothed grin as she squeezes her arms more tightly around his knees. A nurse comes running out of the hall a moment later looking a bit harried and Lan Qiren offers her a nod as he drops a hand down to ruffle Jin Lu’s hair.

“You are not to run away from your caregivers, Jin Lu,” he admonishes with his typical stern frown. She pouts up at him instantly, eyes wide and pleading with her little bottom lip jutting out so far he wonders how it’s possible. Lan Qiren heaves a put-upon sigh that makes Qin Su giggle softly at his side before he reaches down to dislodge Jin Lu’s arms from around his legs so that he can scoop her up and place her on his hip.

“Oh! Master Lan, really - you don’t have to,” the nurse starts, already reaching for the girl.

“It is fine,” he replies before she can fully voice her protest. “I imagine this will be easier in the end than attempting to keep her away. Could you tell me where it would be best to take her?”

The relief on the nurse’s face is palpable as she tells him she was on her way to take the child to her father in the family gardens for a lesson. He nods along and dismisses her with his thanks and then turns to the child in his arms once she’s gone.

“A-Lu.” The girl in question just grins at him around her fingers in her mouth and glances sidelong at Qin Su beside him, uncaring of his admonishing tone. “You frightened your nurse by running away from her. You shall apologize when you see her next.”

“Yes Great Uncle Lan,” she takes her fingers out of her mouth to reply dutifully, still grinning, and Lan Qiren sighs with a shake of his head.

“Let’s go find your father, you troublesome child,” he mutters and Jin Lu lays her head down on his shoulder as a giggling Qin Su tucks her hand into his elbow again, redirecting their steps towards the family gardens instead of the guest pavilions. They exchange a few more pleasantries as they walk, Jin Lu a silent audience on his hip, until they’re interrupted by the sound of wood clacking on wood. They turn the corner into the gardens to find Jin Zixuan sparring against his second son, Jin Rulan an attentive audience at a safe distance from the practice circle.

“Stop! Dad, A-Fei tapped your forearm, you’re injured.” Jin Zixuan nods and tucks his arm close to his chest as Jin Ruhao takes up his ready stance again, a grin on his face.

“You’re getting too slow for your strapping young sons, dad,” he teases with a laugh just before Jin Zixuan lets loose with a flurry of quick stabs and sweeping cuts, perhaps overcompensating ever so slightly for the ‘loss’ of the use of his left arm. It works anyway though, likely due to Jin Ruhao being the less-skilled of the two of them, and Jin Rulan calls out to award another injury - this time to his brother - within moments.

“What’s this, then?” Lan Qiren asks Qin Su as they draw closer slowly.

“A training game Jiang Wanyin taught the children the last time he visited with Nie-Zongzhu,” she replies with a fond smile. “The boys have progressed far past being content with only practicing their forms and training with the other disciples. They still do, of course, but to continue actively improving they must spar either with each other or with A-Xuan. They fight with wooden practice swords and treat it like a real fight with a spectator to keep track of ‘injuries’ that will hamper their ability to keep fighting. The bout is over when both parties are too ‘injured’ to continue or one is disarmed.”

“I see. The boys are improving quickly if they are ready to train personally with their father.”

“I don’t like it,” Jin Lu declares from where she’s hiding her face in his neck. “They shouldn’t hurt each other!”

“I agree wholeheartedly, A-Lu.” Lan Qiren infuses his voice with as much solemnity as possible. “Your brothers should not harm your father. Are you worried that his skill is inferior to theirs?”

“No!! Dad’s the best!!!”

“He is very skilled, that is correct. Therefore it will be nearly impossible for your brothers to hurt him as they are still learning, and your father will be merciful and refuse to hurt them in turn. Is that not so?”

“Hmmmmm. Yes,” she finally relents, grumbling about it but willing to accept it for now. “Down please, Great Uncle Lan,” she adds with a squirm and he bends to set her down.

“Stop!” Jin Rulan calls as soon as her little feet touch the ground, leaving plenty of time for Jin Ruhao and Jin Zixuan to disengage so that Jin Lu can run safely right into Jin Zixuan’s waiting arms.

“Jin Rulan has excellent awareness of his surroundings,” he notes just loudly enough for the boy to hear as he and Qin Su follow after Jin Lu at a much more sedate pace. Jin Rulan’s pleased smirk is visible even from so far away.

“Who won that round, A-Ling?”

“Who do you think, stupid?” Jin Rulan snarks back and Jin Zixuan shushes them with a tired look on his face.

“Boys, honestly. Don’t make your Great Uncle think that I raised you without manners. A-Fei, I won but you’re improving quickly, it’s becoming more difficult for me to win each time. We have to work on your tendency to step back too far when you block. A-Ling, your observational skills are improving as well, I expect to see that in our sparring. Good job both of you, go wash up and have tea with your mother, it’s time for Lu-er’s lessons.”

The boys bow first to their father and then to him and Qin Su at his side before they turn to head towards the path that leads to the inner family residences, nudging and shoving at each other as they go.

“Grandmaster Lan,” Jin Zixuan greets with as good of a bow as he can manage with Jin Lu perched happily in his arms to play with one of the thin gold chains in his hair. “I apologize I wasn’t able to welcome you properly.”

“Training the children is more important,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “What is Jin Lu’s lesson this afternoon?”

A look crosses Jin Zixuan’s face that Lan Qiren doesn’t have time to interpret before the man is responding, perhaps a bit slyly, “Calligraphy. Mine is adequate but...would you perhaps be willing to teach her? She has passed the basics for her age and is improving quickly.”

Lan Qiren clears his throat as Qin Su raises her sleeve to cover her mouth at his side, the movement delicate and graceful, but it does a poor job of hiding that she’s trying not to laugh at her brother’s shamelessness, shifting the duty of teaching the child to him knowing he won’t be able to resist.

“Great Uncle Lan can teach me?!” Jin Lu gasps with wide eyes, looking up at her father in awe. “Please?!”

“Yes, yes, alright,” he agrees with a harrumph and Qin Su doesn’t even bother to hide her tinkling laugh.

“I am afraid I must return to my preparations for my trip so I will leave you here, Grandmaster Lan, it was lovely to see you. A-Xuan, I’ll inform you or Li-jie before I depart.”

Lan Qiren accepts her departing curtsy and turns his attention back to Jin Zixuan and his daughter just in time to catch Jin Lu’s arms as she leans away from her father’s chest to reach for him. The handoff is seamless, and then Jin Lu is on his hip again as Jin Zixuan rotates his right arm slightly to loosen up his shoulder.

“I admit I’m envious of Lan arm strength,” he says ruefully as they begin heading to the guest pavilions at slightly less sedate pace than Qin Su had led him. “I worry for the day xiao-Ye will be the last of her siblings to grow too big for me to carry.”

“Time passes whether we will it or not,” he replies quietly, his thoughts turning to the day he had finally been forced to concede that Lan Wangji was both too old and too big for him to carry through Cloud Recesses anymore. “It is inevitable, but there is the hope of future generations to provide further chances.”

“That is true. My children have certainly had no shortage of family members ready to carry them everywhere rather than tire their feet,” Jin Zixuan teases, reaching over to pinch Jin Lu’s cheek that isn’t smushed against Lan Qiren’s shoulder. She giggles and turns her head the opposite direction to hide from his pinching and Lan Qiren hopes that his smile is tucked far enough in the opposite corner of his mouth not to be visible. Jin Zixuan glances over his shoulder as he chuckles and he pauses on the path. “Ah it seems we’ve picked up an extra pair of shadows, Grandmaster Lan.”

Lan Qiren turns to look as well to find Jin Zhuang following behind them, far enough away to muffle his near-silent footsteps, with little Jin Ye’s hand in his own.

“Jin Ruhai, Jin Ye,” Lan Qiren greets as Jin Zixuan waves for the children to approach so that Jin Ruhai can bow.

Lan Qiren truly doesn’t have a favorite grand-niece or nephew, he finds them all quite charming and wonderful in their own ways, but it’s been obvious since the boy was quite young that Jin Ruhai is surprisingly calm and even-tempered, so much so that even as a baby Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had affectionately decided his name would be a character for ‘solemn’. It’s a fitting name, though as he grows older the boy typically radiates a sense of contentment and satisfaction under that serious facade. So much like a young mirror of Lan Wangji.

The boy lets go of his youngest sister’s hand to offer an absolutely perfect salute - quite impressive for his age - and the girl rather adorably leaves her hand extended straight out for him to take again once he’s straightened.

“You two are supposed to be eating your afternoon snack in the Fragrance Hall,” Jin Zixuan points out with another weary sigh. Lan Qiren remembers the days of attempting to keep track of Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji as children (the former of whom was quite fond of sneaking into the kitchens at random times throughout the day and the latter of whom seemed to always slip away at the first opportunity to play with his rabbits or tuck himself into a comfortable corner of the library to read things far beyond his age level). He truly doesn’t envy his nephew-in-law attempting to keep track of seven strong-willed, free-spirited children.

“Ate,” Jin Ruhai says almost too softly to hear with a resolute nod. He looks at his second youngest sister perched in Lan Qiren’s arms and then back to Jin Zixuan with a stubborn set to his jaw. “Great Uncle Lan,” he continues with a pointed glance at him again.

“You can wait until he settles in to visit with him, Zhuang-er, he just arrived.”

The look on the boy’s face grows so morose that Lan Qiren can’t resist clearing his throat a little and adopting his sternest tone as he says, “It is fine, Jin-Zongzhu. I am not so frail as to need to sleep after taking two days to travel comfortably, let the children come along.”

The glint of moisture in Jin Ruhai’s eyes is promptly replaced by a smug sort of satisfaction as he tugs Jin Ye gently forward to fall into step behind them as he and Jin Zixuan turn back in the direction of the guest rooms.

They finally arrive at his usual quarters without further interruption. Lan Qiren is pleased to see the doors to the gardens for this section of the complex - the Lan rooms - have been left open, the scent of peonies and the magnolia tree in bloom nearby suffusing the space, a pleasant breeze fluttering through the wall hangings.

He sets Jin Lu down on her feet and she promptly darts away from his side to begin investigating the room for anything new since the last time the space had been open for her to explore.

“I have some correspondence I need to reply to,” Jin Zixuan says apologetically from outside the threshold. “Zhuang-er, Lu-er, xiao-Ye, be good for your Great Uncle Lan please. I don’t want to hear later that you need discipline.”

“Yes dad,” the two older children chorus - Jin Lu from where she’s sticking her head under his bed and Jin Ruhai from right next to his elbow. Jin Ye only reaches up to tug on Lan Qiren’s belt to get his attention and then she sticks her arms up to be held now that her sister has gotten down. Lan Qiren waits until Jin Zixuan turns away from the open door to head back towards the more official buildings before he reaches down to oblige the toddler, lifting her up and holding her securely perched in front of himself so she can reach out to pat a little hand against his cheek.

“Xiao-Ye,” he greets and she slips her hand down to tug on his beard with a clear, happy little giggle that makes him smile. “I believe it is nearing time for you to nap.”

“Wanna play,” she pouts instantly with another tug on his beard.

“I have been asked to teach your sister her writing, and Ruhai will observe. You will nap, we will wake you to play when the lesson is finished.”

Lan Qiren can tell instantly as a whine builds in her throat that she’s used to fighting against this particular part of her schedule, but no child in the world is capable of being more stubborn than him. He pulls back the quilt on the bed just enough to set Jin Ye down on it and he wraps her up tightly, elbows bent so her hands are poised up near her shoulders in case she should need to pull herself free. He indulges in a few passes of his hand across the top of her head and almost instantly her whining is cut off by a wide yawn and some long, slow blinks.

“Go to sleep, child, we’ll be here when you wake up again,” he soothes and she relents to close her eyes.

“Wow. She usually only goes to sleep like that for mom and dad,” Jin Lu breathes when he rejoins the other two children on the other side of the space, sitting at the desk where Jin Lu has busied herself laying out some of the paper left in the room for him to use alongside ink and brushes for two.

“I have experience,” he replies simply. “Ruhai, you will grind ink for your sister and then observe her practice.”

The boy nods and leans forward instantly to begin the process with his usual care, moving slowly to ensure he doesn’t splatter anything. Lan Qiren watches carefully, silently correcting the boy’s posture and form with gentle taps of the end of a brush before he’s satisfied enough to begin grinding his own ink. He takes time to show Jin Lu how to properly hold her brush before he lets her touch it to paper. She still moves with some of the natural clumsiness of childhood, but it quickly becomes clear that Jin Zixuan had been telling the truth when he said she has mastered the first set of skills typical for her age group.

Jin Ruhai is an attentive audience as Lan Qiren guides Jin Lu through her practice, settling comfortably into the familiar role of a teacher. He becomes absorbed in it, watching Jin Lu’s hesitant strokes become bolder, more confident as the lesson progresses. So absorbed, in fact, that he’s startled to look up near the middle of the hour to find Jin Yan and Jin Yu flanking the door, arms crossed over their chests as they watch on. Not for the first time he wonders if they will ever be sent to Meishan Yu for training with the Spiders like their grandmother’s Jinzhu and Yinzhu. They would be excellent fits for it, the way they move silently when they want to and always seem to work in tandem, always on their guard.

They offer him a respectful bow - more respectful than he ever sees them offer anyone else in the extended family - and only step further into the room when he waves them in.

“Hi Great Uncle Lan,” Jin Yan greets as she steps forward to sit beside her younger sister, careful not to jostle the girl or the table as she folds her legs neatly underneath her.

“Wow - you got xiao-Ye to take her nap,” Jin Yu marvels as she approaches the bed where the toddler is still sleeping, tiny snores escaping her parted lips.

“Indeed. I do not recommend waking her yet, A-Yu.”

“Yes, Great Uncle Lan.” The girl backs away from the bed immediately to join her sisters, sitting on Jin Lu’s other side to peer down at her work. Jin Lu ignores them to stay focused on her work, Lan Qiren is pleased to see, continuing to practice the new character he had shown her with the tip of her tongue just barely poking between her teeth as she concentrates.

“Hey, this looks great, Lulu,” Jin Yan praises and Jin Lu’s concentration breaks just enough that she grins, tongue still out. “A lot better than ours was at her age, don’t you think Yuyu?”

“Better than ours now,” Jin Yu snorts as she leans back on one hand to lounge, the opposite knee propped up to support her extended arm.

Lan Qiren is just opening his mouth to admonish her posture (it’s far too improper even though she wears trousers) when there’s suddenly the sound of running footsteps on the path outside and panting. All eyes - except for Jin Lu’s - turn to the door to find the swordmaster of Jinlintai leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. He sketches a hasty approximation of a bow.

“Yan-guniang, Yu-guniang,” he manages after a moment. “Your afternoon training is not yet over, I have promised Jin-Zongzhu to instruct you-”

He cuts himself off as Lan Qiren holds up a hand to pause him. “My grandnieces are attending a lesson with me,” he says smoothly. “I will inform Jin-Zongzhu of the change in their schedule, you need not worry.”

The man seems about to argue for a long moment before he seems to think better of it. He sighs and nods, retreating with a quick bow.

“What are you two training with now?” he asks as he turns his attention back to watching Jin Lu’s brush.

“Uncle Sang sent us new knives made by our favorite bladesmith in Qinghe, but we decided we want to wait to really practice with them until Uncle Jue can show us how,” Jin Yan replies while Jin Yu nods her emphatic agreement, still looking down at Jin Lu’s paper. “If we’re going to fight with Nie blades then we want to learn how the Nie would do it.”

“It is good to seek a well-rounded education in any area of study. Variety is invigorating to the mind,” Lan Qiren replies with a glance up to find the twins practically preening under his approval. “I am sure Nie Mingjue will be pleased to demonstrate to such enthusiastic students.”

“Done!” Jin Lu states, setting her brush on its holder and crossing her arms resolutely, a proud, lopsided grin on her face. Jin Yan and Jin Yu instantly lean closer, crowding and jostling the younger girl between them until she giggles as they look over the page. Even Jin Ruhai leans in, eyes scanning the page from his sideways perspective.

“Beautiful,” he praises gently with a smile and Jin Lu positively beams as the twins nod and start pointing out particularly pleasing lines, chattering over each other easily.

“You have improved,” Lan Qiren cuts through the chatter to agree before turning to his nephew. “Ruhai, have you practiced the score I left with you two months ago?” The boy nods quickly, his eyes wide. “Would you like to show me?” Another nod as his hands come up to rest on the table as if already resting on his instrument, though he frowns after a moment. “You may use my guqin. I will prepare what is needed.”

There’s a quick flurry as Jin Yan helps him clear the table of the calligraphy supplies - Jin Lu’s practice sheet gets safely set aside to be shown to Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan later - and Jin Yu follows his nod towards the bed to go wake Jin Ye from her nap. With the table clear, Lan Qiren calls his guqin from the pouch in his sleeve and settles the instrument on the surface next, Jin Ruhai swapping places with Jin Lu so that he is now in place to be instructed and she can sit to the side to observe.

Lan Qiren watches Jin Ruhai check the tuning of the instrument with careful brushes of his fingers and then he looks up to check on Jin Yu and Jin Ye. He can’t help but smile ever so slightly as he watches the teen pinch her younger sister’s round cheek, bearing faint creases from the blankets that had been pressed into her skin. Jin Ye is still sleepy and not willing to do much work to support her own weight as she sits like a sack of potatoes in her sister’s arms and so Lan Qiren holds his hands out to take her and settle her in his lap while she rubs her eyes and yawns, trying valiantly to wake properly.

The twins settle back into their spots on either side of their brother, clearly enjoying their position so close to the source of the afternoon’s entertainment. The boy seems to steady with their presence at his sides and Lan Qiren watches his hands settle firmly on the strings. He takes a deep breath in and then begins to play, his fingers sure on the strings despite his moment of nerves.

An unusual stillness accompanies his playing. Jin Lu stops fidgeting with her fingers, the twins slip into the perfect stillness of those who are utterly aware of themselves at all times - a trait he’s noticed in every skilled fighter he’s ever come across - and even Jin Ye relaxes, slumping further and further backwards until she’s slouched down against his stomach, legs dangling over his crossed shins.

The piece isn’t a terribly long one, nor as complex as the next score Lan Qiren intends to teach the boy, but Jin Ruhai’s mastery of it is impressive. Again, Lan Qiren is forcefully reminded of Lan Wangji, always most at peace when behind his instrument to play with and/or for the people he loves.

There’s silence in the room until the last note fades with a shiver into the air and Jin Ruhai pulls his hands back from the instrument. The stillness lasts for one more moment before it’s interrupted by Jin Lu sneezing suddenly and her siblings laugh as the quiet breaks.

“I had to hold that in the whole time!!” Jin Lu laughs as she rubs her sleeve under her nose, one eye screwed shut as she giggles. “I didn’t want to mess up A-Zhuang’s song, it’s so pretty!”

“Is that what you practice in your room after dinner every night?” Jin Ruhao suddenly calls from the door and Lan Qiren looks up to find that the two eldest boys have found them, clean and dressed in fresh clothes and apparently done visiting with Jiang Yanli. They step inside the room and move to sit at the table - which is quickly becoming very crowded - on either side of Lan Qiren, directly across from the twins.

“That’s a song from Gusu isn’t it, Great Uncle Lan?” Jin Rulan asks as he and his second brother settle into their spots.

“It is. It is a traditional folk lullaby.” Lan Qiren hesitates for the briefest moment before he adds, “It was your Uncle Ji’s favorite as a boy.”

“Did Uncle Chen have a favorite?” Jin Yan asks curiously and Lan Qiren nods.

“It is the next piece I would like to teach Ruhai, you will hear it when he has learned it.”

“Maybe you can play it for them as a gift the next time they visit, A-Zhuang,” Jin Ruhao suggests and Jin Ruhai visibly perks up at that idea, eyes going bright and his entire expression resolute as he nods. Lan Qiren doesn’t even have to ask to know that he’ll devote himself wholeheartedly to learning the next song until he masters it as soon as he can.

“Oh, my heart!!” A sudden cry from the door has all the children sighing with varying degrees of fondness and dismay as Mo Xuanyu swans into the room. “All the children sucking up to their Great Uncle! How come I never get a cuddle pile, huh? You don’t love your poor Uncle Yu!”

“We hang out with you all the time, Uncle Yu,” Jin Yan sighs heavily, tipping her head back to look at Mo Xuanyu upside down. “What are you doing here? We’re busy hanging out with Great Uncle Lan.”

“Ungrateful child,” Mo Xuanyu chirps with a smile and a tap of a fingertip to the underside of Jin Yan’s chin before he flicks her throat in retaliation.

“Mo Xuanyu,” Lan Qiren greets and warns simultaneously - the gesture was clearly teasing and it couldn’t possibly have hurt his grandniece, but Lan Qiren is protective, he has never once claimed not to be.

“Grandmaster Lan,” the man returns with a nod, hair ornaments tinkling softly as he moves. “I was asked to round up the children for dinner which usually takes the better part of an hour, thank you for corralling them all in one place for this poor tired uncle.”

“Children, go prepare for dinner,” Lan Qiren instructs and everyone but Jin Ye gets to their feet, stretching stiff limbs and nudging each other playfully as they file out of the room. Their laughter echoes in the courtyard as their voices rise, jokes and good-natured chatter filling the air.

“Uh-oh, you’ve got a little bug stuck on your robes there,” Mo Xuanyu chuckles with a nod to Jin Ye. “Never fear, Uncle Lan! I’ll save you from this awful creature!” Jin Ye giggles as she holds her arms up to be swept into Mo Xuanyu’s embrace with a twirl for an extra flourish, the skirts of his robes swishing around his ankles.

Lan Qiren sniffs a bit as he gets to his feet and straightens out his own robes, readjusting his belt to its proper place and brushing himself off as Mo Xuanyu rubs his nose against Jin Ye’s in an affectionate gesture, both of them smiling. He clears his throat next and Mo Xuanyu glances over at him as Lan Qiren settles his arms behind his back, tipping his chin up ever so slightly.

“I spent this morning traveling and this afternoon teaching the children. I also need to prepare for dinner.”

“Ah of course, of course. I’ll just deliver this little bug to her mother, see you at dinner Uncle Lan!” He calls that last over his shoulder as he sweeps out of the room again and Lan Qiren stands in the still silence for a long few moments. He shakes himself out of his reverie quickly enough and begins the process of getting bathed and changed into fresh clothes for the evening spent happily with his family.

Perhaps it was once a surprise to realize that the Lanling Jin is his favorite sect to visit, but now..though nowhere will ever match the love he has for Cloud Recesses, anywhere that contains so much of his family will always come very close to it.

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Qiren #Jin Zixuan #Qin Su #Mo Xuanyu #Jin Ling #Jin Rulan #and allllll my Jin baby oc's lol #also a little author's note - I used the boys' courtesy names (which I didn't do in the last Jin extra)#because I think that's how LQR would think of them #you might also notice that he uses more informal names for the children when there aren't other adults around to hear #that was intentional #he tries to maintain this reputation that he's a hard-ass around the adults but he's justso soft for kids man #last note - the training that JL and JF are doing with JZX is not my own idea!#I got it from one of my favorite fantasy trilogies #idk if any of y'all will know what I'm talking about but it's the Obsidian Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory #don't ask me about it if you don't want to hear about it for hours

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ajoy3fanfics · 4 years ago

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101 ways to shut Granger up- Sixth year, pt.1

Find it on AO3!

If you knew your last minute of peace would truly be your last, what would you do differently? Draco often wondered that over his summer. Would he have breathed a little deeper, revealed in the normal pace of his heart? Savor the sweet feeling of living without anxiety, without his pulse racing, heart beating out of his chest? Would he have stopped to take it all in, make it a flesh memory, if for nothing else than to hold on to it all the tighter later?

As he wiped his bloody lip with the back of his hand, breathless, struggling to stand, he stopped musing about what he would change, but more importantly, wondered what he did. When did he last feel anything but nauseous? When was the last time he felt like the world wasn’t about to fall apart if he so much as looked at someone the wrong way?

Certainly before summer. Before he was escorted from Hogwarts Express, a grim look in his mothers eyes. She gave him a tight lipped smile, a short, but tight hug, before she whispered that they must hurry back, to keep quiet, because there were eyes everywhere. It was not until they reached the gates of the manor that his mother warned him that things had changed.

“Guests,” She called them.

Criminals, murderers. The criminally insane, more like.

It chilled him to the bone to see his home crawling with the scum his family would never so much as glance at before he came back.

Before she did too.

When he walked through the front door it felt as if he had entered a different world. His head spun as he took in the foyer, usually tranquil and empty, now filled with strangers strolling past him. As if they had any right to roam the halls of his house. They didn’t even have the breeding to nod his way or greet the young master hello. Draco scrunched his nose up in distaste.

“Manners, Draco.” His mother prompted him.

“You’re reminding me of that? What the fucking hell-

“-language.”

“-going on here?” He clenched his fists by his side. He fucking hated to be left out. The entire year he knew something was wrong, could feel it in his gut, but his mother has not so much as hinted at anything amiss.

“Draco.” The way his name hissed from her lips, dripped out like a poison, made him freeze. He hunched his shoulders, could freaking feel her eyes boring into his back. “I thought you’d never get here, love.”

Bellatrix practically flew in front of him, grasping Dracos face between her bony hands. “Let me get a look at you.” It was the strangest mix of sadness and pride.

Bellatrix appraised him from top to bottom, clicking her tongue as she turned his chin. Every fiber, every muscle, every atom screamed at him to look away, pull his jaw away from her claws, and go anywhere else. Fucking Hogwarts sounded better than this hell. And it had only been a minute inside.

“He’s too thin, Cissy.” She snapped. “Much too thin. What have you been feeding my nephew?”

“He eats well, Bella.” She defended. “Draco has quite the sweet tooth, in fact.”

She smiled at that, teeth rotten, sharp. “Is that so?” Some memory sparked in her eyes; something from long that had nothing to do with him. She turned to Narcissa. “Just like Daddy?”

“In many ways.” She answered proudly.

“Right, right. Of course.” Bellatrix smoothed down his hair, carding her pale, cold fingers through the blonde strands. She leaned in close, voice dropping to a languid whisper. “Last of the blacks.”

“I’m a Malfoy.” Draco spit it out before he could bite his tongue. He was scared of his aunt, always had been. But now she didn’t just act like a fiend from a nightmare, she damn well looked like one too. It churned his stomach to have her so close. He could still smell Azkaban on her, as if the filth was a permanent fixture on her skin. He didn’t intend to say a word to her, but all the nonsense about being a Black dredged up his memories of their last visit. Why was his mother not pulling him away, as she had done then?

“Ha! A Malfoy.” She gripped his hair by the roots as she laughed and tugged. Hard enough to make him wince, quick enough that she instantly let go. Easily could have been brushed off as an accident. Easily could have been a misunderstanding. “Well, Draco… I have to say I’m surprised. After hearing what your traitorous father did-”

“-father?”

“- I’d think you’d be all too eager to shed the Malfoy shame. Take up the Black name, live your legacy.”

“He will do no such thing Bella.” His mother finally intervened, after what seemed like an eternity. She stood between Draco and his aunt, and Draco was sure his heart rate had doubled since he saw the main gates. “And I thought we discussed letting me talk to him first. He has no idea-”

“He should be upset that he failed, not that he has to live the consequences of it!”

He was a pot boiling over. A volcano ready to explode. Too much energy in his body. Too many thoughts racing through his head. The busts on the pedestals shattered around him, wandless magic crackling through the air as he roared, “What the fuck is going on?!”

Narcissa and Bellatrix immediately stopped, turned to face him, stunned to silence.

His aunt smiled. “Just like a Black.”

~.~

Had it been an insult or a compliment? It rattled around in Draco’s head. His knee jerk reaction was that she was speaking from a place of pride. But when Draco learned that Bellatrix had killed her cousin Sirius Black, he wondered if her words were indeed a threat.

~.~

Interestingly enough, the news that his father had been locked away did not startle Draco.

His mother thought to be gentle, that the news might blow him over, literally knock him down. Instead, it crashed over him, a wave so intense he felt numb.

Of course his father was in Azkaban. There was no way he would allow this madness; his aunt and her lunacy, the vermin that came and left the manor to skulk around his home. These people wouldn’t be invited for a holiday party at Malfoy Manor, let alone encouraged to board unless something dire had happened to his father.

In some respect, it surprised Draco to know his father had failed whatever half-baked mission they aimed to achieve. Lucius had always been so confident, so in control of everything and everyone. In all his life, he had never seen his father incompetent. It was difficult to imagine what it looked like.

From the way his new house guests snickered, the gossip that was swapped in not-so-hushed whispers in the halls, it had been a sight to see. That was the way those assholes put it anyway.

Two men, Yaxley and some lackey of his, seemed to revel in it. Bringing the Malfoy name down into the mud gave them a sick sort of pleasure.

“Just a matter of time until this place falls into the right hands.” Yaxley said, smirking as he glanced towards Draco. “The Dark Lord promised me some big rewards to clean up after Malfoys fuck up..”

Draco snapped his attention to Yaxley, trying up his courage as his squared his shoulders. Yaxley was a tall man, slim, but fit. If he threw a punch, Draco was sure he wouldn’t escape without a few broken bones. And wouldn’t he love that, the filth he was?

“Don’t you dare say another fucking word against my father.” He seethed.

“Draco! Stop!” His mother rushed to him. The woman seemed like a magnet since he came home, never far from his side. His mother gripped his arm as she pulled him back. Draco had clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Draco, Stop.”

He felt like hitting Yaxley, felt like shaking his mother off of him, but he could feel her fingers dig into his skin, her hands trembling.

“Mind your temper, boy.” Yaxley took his time as he moved his gaze to Narcissa, looking her up and down slowly- too slowly. “Mummy won’t always be around to protect you.”

“Don’t fucking look at my mother-”

“-Mother, father. Where should I look then, boy?”

“Yaxley.” She commanded, “You are a guest in my home. I will not have you acting in an uncouth manner. Please take your leave for the night.”

Yaxlet nodded, but sized Draco up before he turned to leave. “S’fine. The Dark Lord asked for me anyhow.”

“Lowlives.” Narcissa hissed. “Not worth your time, dear.” His mother had said, gripping his arm as she pulled him back. Draco had clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He fucking hated this.

Draco twisted out of his mothers grasp and stormed the stairs, eager to get to his room, to find comfort in the only four walls that had any ounce of normalcy.

So it should have been no surprise to see his Aunt Bella waiting for him at the landing, arms crossed, lips pressed together in disapproval. In the shitshow that was now his life, it made sense that he wouldn’t be able to carve out even a minute of refuge for himself.

“Should’ve taught him a lesson.” She spat. “Scum like that, talking to a Black that way.” She craned her neck to see if Yaxley was about, then raised her voice to yell, “Disgraceful!”

“Right?” He felt his lip draw up in a sneer. “Makes me fucking sick.” Draco rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the knots in his neck. He had only spoken a few times to his aunt, and never typically alone. He had thought she would have pounced on him, if the way she acted his first day back was any indication. But it seemed that the Dark Lord kept her busy.

“Just a lousy upstart, that Yaxley. Thinks he’s in The Dark Lords good graces because he did one mission for him and earned some praise.” It was clear his aunt felt the same distaste he did.

Draco found himself saying, “As if that's all it takes.” Though he was unsure why. In his house of enemies, perhaps he was trying to find an ally.

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward. “The Dark Lord isn’t a fickle man, Draco.” Her voice was low, serious. “But he does not take mistakes lightly.” She gripped his forearm as she spoke, eyes ablaze with passion. “It's serious business, not something to be toyed around with for status, like that Yaxley.” He watched as Bellatrix brought her hand to his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb. “You know better though, right love? Why we need to do this work? We can’t let the Yaxley’s of the world look down on us.”

“No,” he said, the words sticking in his throat.

“So we need to stick together, you and me.” She spoke slow, searching his eyes. “Cissy is too tender-hearted, always has been. She can’t endure this much longer.”

Draco nodded his head in agreement.

“We need to get this family back under control. You and me, Draco.”

~.~

As scary as Bellatrix had seemed to Draco as a child, he had to admit he somewhat admired her. She was unafraid of anyone; perhaps it was simply that she was crazed and fear was no longer an emotion she registered.

But when Bella hexed Pettigrew for speaking to Narcissa in a demeaning, demanding tone, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe they were on the same side.

~.~

If Draco had thought that Aunt Bella had made an idle proposition earlier, he was sorely mistaken. Draco took family seriously- the Malfoys were known for it- but Bella had a devotion to the Black name and lineage that made her a woman possessed.

“You’re our last hope, Draco. The prodigal son, eh?” She smiled at him like a snake.

Being the last hope didn’t just involve a title. Apparently it required him to wake before dawn and train. Bella was quick with a wand; it made him shudder to think how lethal she would have been if she had been in practice all these years. If Draco had assumed she’d be rusty with a few spells, he was sorely mistaken.

The bitch hit hard.

Every spell, every curse was merciless. One to stiffen the muscles, to set them on fire. One to turn the blood to lead. One to boil the skin, one to derail the mind. She taught him curse after curse, dueling with him until he got it right.

‘Why can’t she have her own damn kid?’ Draco wondered. ‘Why pin all her hopes on me?’

When he could not perform, could not match her sophisticated skill, she turned angry. Face red, brows furrowed and teeth clenched.

“No!” She shrieked, aiming her wand at him. She sent a spark of electricity his way- a curse to seep into his bones. “Do you think your opponent will be as forgiving as me?” She broke the spell, leaving Draco huddled and wheezing.

“Do it again.”

~.~

Even night time proved to give Draco little peace. With his head on his mountain of pillows, a cooling charm over his four poster bed, a light comforter to balance the temperature, he still could not get comfortable. He found himself balling his hands into fists, cursing under his breath until he could not take it anymore. With a quick silencing charm, he would scream until his voice was hoarse.

It was only when he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, that he was able to close his eyes. No sooner would he shut them, but the events of his day would flash in his mind. Where was his father? Was he faring well? His mother, his poor mother, how much more could she take? How much more could he take?

No. He needed a distraction. Needed to focus on something else. Something pleasant- fucking anything. Something consuming.

Granger.

She was probably at the Weasleys, spending her days filled with obnoxious red-heads and Potter. The idea filled his belly with fury. What would they be doing, all alone with nothing but the summer heat? Did Weasley have his hands all over her? Pawing away like an animal no doubt. The clumsy oaf probably couldn’t piece together how to unhook a bra, let alone give her an ounce of pleasure.

No. No, no, no. That couldn’t be right. He had heard before that Potter spent his summers with whatever bit of a family he had. That Granger went home to hers. He had heard her talking once, about trips and teeth. It made little sense, but it had instantly relieved him to know that she did not spend her time with those two in the summer. Most likely.

Probably.

No, definitely. That's what he had to go with. He needed something positive. Needed to believe there was still something left for him, even if she never was his.

~.~

The Dark Lord was due to have a visit soon, at least that was the gossip around the kitchen. His mother had fretted nervously, ordering the elves from this room to the next, making them clean and re-clean every surface on the estate.

As anxious as it made Narcissa, Bella seemed to be buzzing with energy.

And it only made her push harder.

And kinship he had felt with her had quickly dissipated. It was clear she was self serving, though she did have some affection for her sister and nephew. All in the name of family, no matter how twisted and fucked up it was.

“ Why are you incapable of doing this?!” Bellatrix screamed. It was early and Draco still felt sluggish. “Lazy like your father! No ambition! No follow through!” She punctuated each insult with a flick of her wand, the hex cutting to the bone. Draco could feel blood trickle down his forehead, dribbling down his brow. His lip was split in two, the taste of iron in his mouth. Taking the back of his hand, he tried to wipe away the fresh cuts.

“I don’t want to fucking do this anymore.” Draco spat. He had never wanted to do it in the first place.

“Oh, sweet Draco. You think it's a choice?” She let loose curse, one that made his body feel like glass- stiff and fragile. Draco was sure that if he made even the slightest movement he would shatter. She strode over to him with impatience.

“This is your destiny, Draco. You need to seize it! When the Dark Lord comes, he will want to know your heart is pure. Is your heart pure, Draco?”

He swallowed, trying to control his breathing. “Yes.” He answered too slowly.

“Of course it is, dear. And your mind? Free of treacherous thoughts? No ideas of rebellion rattling around that brain of yours? Scheming like your father-!”

A pain unlike anything Draco had experienced crashed through his head. He had practiced briefly with Snape- but it was nothing in comparison to this. Snape had been intrusive, poking and prodding- giving him room to defend himself. Teachable moments, perhaps.

This was different.

Bellatrix did not poke, she shredded. It felt like a knife ripped apart every synapse, lit every thought ablaze. She turned over the images, rifled through his memories. The ones of his childhood, the anger he felt towards Potter.

But of course, Potter lead to Granger.

He tried to shut her out. Tried to keep her away from Hermione. But Fuck, Bellatrix was skilled and he was so weak. So fucking weak.

Filthy images, fantasies, passing glances filled Bellatrix’s mind. An obsession laid open for his aunt to see. His darkest secret, exposed to the most dangerous individual he knew.

She would kill him now. He was certain of it.

By the time she took her claws out of Dracos mind, she was panting.

“That filthy mudblood?” She whispered. “That filthy-” She sent a curse, fire in her eyes.

“-little-” Another, jabbing at his spine.

“Mudblood-” She curled her lips in disgust as her wand slashed through the air.

“-Whore!”

He was crying, there was no use denying it. He would spend his last moments on Earth curled up in a ball. Lying in fetal position, waiting for death at his aunt's hands.

Bellatrix crouched next to him, resting her chin on her palm. She looked furious, gritting her teeth, rage barely contained.

“This won’t do. It won’t do!” She screeched. “You were meant to carry on the Black name.” Her tone turned sad, remorseful. “How can you be so like Andromina? Poor Cissy, to go through this again.”

No, not like his aunt. Not like the one that had been disowned. The one better off dead.

“I- I’m not.” He was missing a front tooth, could feel the broken bones and shattered bits in his mouth.

“And the Dark Lord? What will he say?” She cut her eyes to her nephew. “Your mother will pay the price for this too. The Dark Lord, he’ll say our family is tainted, the seed is bad! The line full of traitors! Your mother, my dear Cissy-!” Bellatrix seemed to conveniently forget that she was part of the line she so easily called traitorous.

“It’s, its just-” He breathed in, broken ribs stabbing. “Just an attraction.” Draco panted. “Thanks all. Aunt Bella, I, I swear.”

She considered him for a moment, a crumpled heap of a man.

“A passing attraction, you say?” She rolled her neck as she sucked on her bottom lip.

“It is.” He turned to look her square in the eye. There was a moment of pause before she answered.

“That better be all.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Young children do have peculiar tastes.”

“Right,” He was exhausted, utterly defeated.

“I remember when I was in school, some of the questionable boys I found cute. No accounting for taste in these years, you know.”

“You’re ri-right Aunt Bella. It’s- its nothing serious.”

“If it’s nothing serious, then it’s nothing to trouble the Dark Lord over.” She said quickly.

“Y-Yes, Aunt Bella.”

She nodded, as if listening to him from far away.

“We’ll just have to train all the harder. Won't we, love?”

~.~

As Draco nursed the bones he was currently regrowing, he wondered if Hermione would have like the manor. Before his aunt, before the wild creatures had taken over it.

He wondered if she would have liked the garden, would have minded the peacocks. He drifted to sleep, dreaming over Hermione Granger on his broomstick. Hugging him tight, hugging him close.

~.~

The day the Dark Lord had come had been surprisingly cheerful. Bellatrix had been away since the night before, so he was out from under his thumb. He had taken an early breakfast with his mother, now accustomed to being awakened before the sun even rose. After a light breakfast, he had retreated to the library, found a book he had been meaning to read, and drifted off to sleep in the plush leather arm chair. It had been the time he had slept well since he had arrived home.

A loud pop had awakened him. An elf cleared its throat, announcing his arrival.

“Master Draco is needed in the dining room.” He wrung his hands nervously around his shirt. Even the elves had not escaped the wrath of their new guests.

“Thank you.” He sighed heavily, not ready to leave. Not ready to give up on his dream of normalcy.

This had been typical for him, had been his everyday once. Now it was nothing more than a vacation from his daily life. Misery was his new normal.

“Master Draco must come quickly!” The elves' voice lowered. “Misses says it's urgent.”

Draco stood and pushed open the heavy oak doors and walked towards the dining room.

Voldermort was waiting.

#Dramione fic #Draco Malfoy #draco x hermione #dramione #Dramione fanfic #dramione fandom #ajoy3

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pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer · 3 years ago

Text

Right of Law, Section XXX

(Faced with top operatives from Odina, the Makuta have difficult tasks set before them. Zaekura has it far worse, however, as she finally comes face to face with Ekimu.)

Shadows clung to Bitil, weighing him down as he narrowly threw himself clear of Eliminator’s next bolt. Swinging his arm up, he lobbed a ball of Light at his foe, but the Odinan moved under it to kick Bitil into the pavement.

“I can’t stand it,” Eliminator said. “You Makuta and Toa command the Elements like soldiers, draw them through your body and bend them to your will. With the Keeper’s help, I’ve learned a better way.”

Bitil phased half-way into the ground and backed up a few feet before surfacing. “Please, by all means, continue.”

The darkness of the alleyway twisted as Eliminator slowly moved his arm. “The shadows always liked me. In my...past life, I took their assistance for granted--used the advantage they offered to kill as I pleased. The Great Beings quit tolerating that after I killed General Certavus. But then the Keeper took me to Odina, taught me to listen to the shadows and become true allies with them. Now, we fight together to repay that lesson.”

Essentially, Bitil thought, he’s able to control Shadow without actually channeling it through himself. That’s why my Light attacks don’t bother him all that much. So, now I know why he has such an advantage against me...but I’m not sure I see a way to overcome it.

“And the shadows hate you much more than I do,” Eliminator said, the darkness around him deepening. “You’ve totally rejected them for your precious Light. Thousands and thousands of years might’ve passed...but the shadows will always remember.”

The darkness surged towards Bitil. He turned invulnerable, hoping he could hold on until he spotted an opening. Mid-way through the assault, however, Eliminator struck him with another bolt, and Bitil could feel his strength drop sharply. He couldn’t hold his invulnerability, and the tide of shadows slammed him into the wall. Dazed, Bitil tried to call upon any of his powers to defend himself, but none came.

“Your arrogance ends here,” Eliminator said. “There’s no one left for you to command.”

His talons sparked as he took aim. Bitil pulled on his errant focus, preparing to dodge as best he could, when Eliminator turned his head sharply. A second later, he leaned to one side, and Azin lashed out from the darkness, swiping a dagger through Eliminator’s aura of shadow.

“Azin?!” Bitil exclaimed, now finding the strength to drive himself to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Azin gave a short hiss as he leapt back, avoiding Eliminator’s talons. Eliminator launched a bolt at him, but it swerved before reaching him, instead striking the street about a yard away. While Azin moved back in, Bitil realized that the alleyway was beginning to brighten--the process was slow, but he could soon see three more Rahkshi on the battlefield.

“What--I said I would handle this! He’s a dangerous foe!”

Azin’s daggers locked against Eliminator’s talons. The Odinan’s whole body could be seen now, a towering, ebon-armored giant with four appendages on his back holding Kanoka disks. Straining, Azin shouted to Bitil.

“Well…” The Makuta paused a moment. Then, remembering he was still in a fight, he sent Eliminator sprawling with a burst of electricity. “...Thank you.”

Eliminator was up immediately, only a few faint shadows wisping around him now. “Hmph...more soldiers at your disposal? Are you going to leave them to fight your battle while you retreat?”

Bitil took a few steps forward, using one of the strips of fabric hanging from his armor to polish his sword. “Odinan, you gravely misunderstand who you are dealing with. Firstly, my children came to aid me of their own free will, not because I ordered them here. And second...I’m offended you would so much as imply that I would ever abandon them.”

Eliminator fired a bolt. Again, it flew wide.

“Oh, you needn’t bother with that.” Bitil motioned to a blue and purple Rahkshi. “Meet Imis. They are a Rahkshi of Accuracy with inverted powers, meaning that they can force all of their target’s attacks to miss.”

Imis twirled their staff with a chuckle.

“You’re already acquainted with Azin. He’s a Rahkshi of Chameleon, so skilled in stealth that it seems even your friends the shadows couldn’t detect him until he was right upon you.”

Azin stayed low, his eyes fixed on Eliminator. The Odinan rushed forward, but Bitil parried him and held him in place as Azin darted to the side to strike at his back.

“Tsk, tsk, I haven’t finished introductions yet. If you’re wondering about the abrupt change in lighting, that would be the handiwork of Daleer.”

Standing at the edge of the alleyway was a black and red Rahkshi. He trembled subtly, but kept a firm grip on his staff as he held it upright.

“He’s a Rahkshi of Darkness...but that’s never been the most accurate term for the power. Put more precisely, he can control how much light is in a given area, usually by reducing it...but also by increasing it.”

Eliminator backed off, projecting another force field to block Bitil’s follow-up attack. Shifting his weight, one of the appendages on his back moved, throwing the disk it carried right at Daleer. The final Rahkshi intercepted the projectile. White-hot sparks crackled over xyr light blue armor as xe reached out, and the disk broke into hundreds of tiny pieces on contact with xyr hand.

“And xe,” Bitil said, “is Kerba. One of the first power inversions I attempted: a Rahkshi of Regeneration turned to a Rahkshi of Molecular Disruption. There’s nothing in this world xe can’t break.”

“I almost pity them all,” Eliminator said. “Mutant freaks, because you had to force your will on them before they were even born.”

Bitil stabbed Eliminator’s shield. His blade may not have pierced it, but his glare easily did. “Gross misinterpretation is one thing. But insulting my children is another altogether. Accuse me of subjugating them if you wish--I know for a fact I have not. Ones such as yourself, leveling baseless disdain at them, are the ones seeking to bind them by your selfish will! Yet you say you ‘pity’ them, you repugnant worm? What makes you think you are worth enough to bestow pity upon them?!”

Eliminator dared not break eye contact, his instincts convinced that it was the only thing stopping that glare from smiting him where he stood. The shadows whispered something, but he couldn’t make out what. He realized Azin was behind him only as the Rahkshi tackled him to the ground. Bitil used his Slow powers to give Kerba enough time to get close, destroying Eliminator’s remaining disks, and Azin locked his limbs around the Odinan in a tight hold. The shadows tried to push him off, but they were far too weak.

“Rrrgh...impossible!” Eliminator said as he struggled. “I’ve never failed the Keeper before, and I won’t start now!”

Bitil crouched down in front of his prone foe. “No one likes a sore loser, Odinan. Accept your failure.”

“No...the Keeper doesn’t accept failure…”

Bitil scoffed. “Listen to you, going on and on about how much you hate us for ‘commanding’ the elements, when you’re a slave to the will of your beloved Keeper.”

Eliminator said nothing.

“I’ve always been curious: what is it about this mysterious Keeper that drives you all to follow him so fervently? What sort of being commands such sheer devotion from those who previously couldn’t devote themselves to anything?”

Still, Eliminator said nothing. Bitil began wondering what to do with him when he noticed the shadows swirling.

“Azin, get--”

The shadows swelled into a fountain of darkness, flinging Azin across the alleyway as they enveloped Eliminator’s body. Bitil thought he could hear a faint shout, but if it was truly there, it didn’t last for long. Daleer grunted. The fountain grew just a bit larger before steadily fading away, leaving not a single trace--neither of it, nor Eliminator.

Bitil tapped a finger against the hilt of his sword. “Azin, are you alright?”

The Rahkshi hissed as he climbed to his feet.

“Good.” Bitil turned to look over him and the others. “Thank you all again--I’m in your debt. While I’m not...entirely sure what’s become of our foe...suffice to say this particular skirmish is over, and we’d best be moving on. Has anyone received word from Zaekura?”

The Rahkshi shook their heads.

“Then we must assume she’s still headed for the stadium--I’ll head there. If any of you need to rest, you should withdraw.”

Bitil made for the end of the alley, the four Rahkshi hissing as they followed him. He sheathed his sword, allowed himself a brief chuckle, and then turned all his focus on his goal.

***

Brutaka kicked Ehlek aside, barely feeling his electric counterattack, and then locked swords with Nocturn and pushed against him. Pridak stood behind them, shaking slightly as he mended a wound in his armor.

“So now you realize you cannot win,” Brutaka said, sending Nocturn sprawling with a jab. “I possess the ability to absorb antidermis to increase my own power. It isn’t permanent, but it lasts long enough for a single fight, at least.”

Pridak growled, clutching his wound.

“It is hopeless. With every injury you sustain, I grow even stronger. Heheh...I see it’s enough to make even a Makuta tremble in fear!”

“You think this is fear?” Pridak mumbled. “You are mistaken, Odinan…”

Pridak looked up. His eyes were ablaze, face twisted into a scowl so hideous his Kanohi became unrecognizable.

“I am simply unable to contain my fury.”

Pridak made a reckless dash towards the object of his ire. Brutaka stabbed his sword out--an easy move to dodge, but one that would allow him to guide Pridak into a deadlier follow-up. But Pridak did not dodge. Allowing himself to be run through, Pridak pressed forward without flinching, leaving Brutaka too shocked to avoid the Makuta’s own swords and earning him a tremendous gash running from his shoulder down over his chest. He could still see Pridak’s hideous scowl burning through the rising plume of antidermis, the blood from his wound painting one side of his mask.

“You…‘born to defeat Makuta’. Your existence alone is defiance of our holy will. How dare you? How dare you exist?”

Brutaka stumbled back. After making it only a few steps, Nocturn grabbed hold of his ankle, making him trip over backward. Ehlek pounced instantly, gouging Brutaka with his talons. Despite the sharp and sudden pain, Brutaka refused to cry out.

“Taking my essence for your own…” Pridak ripped Ehlek off of Brutaka. “What makes you think you could ever be worthy?!”

Brutaka made a gateway just in time, escaping as Pridak plunged one sword into the sand he had laid upon. He re-emerged behind the Makuta, taking in the cloud of antidermis there, and then moved a considerable distance away. “Haven’t you put it together? The Great Beings gave me this ability. They knew a day might come when you Makuta would become a threat, so they set about crafting a countermeasure. If you Makuta are ‘holy’ for the gifts they’ve given you, then am I not as well?”

He retreated into a gateway as a huge stream of plasma came his way. Opening another above Pridak, he fired a beam of his own, only for Pridak to turn invulnerable, spring up through it, and grab Brutaka by the neck. “When did I say the Great Beings bestowed our holiness upon us?”

Brutaka pulled back in an attempt to escape Pridak’s grip. Pridak yanked him out just the same, pressing his mask against Brutaka’s and activating a Power Scream.

“IT IS OURS, AND OURS ALONE!”

The shriek left Brutaka’s ears ringing. He took in more of Pridak’s antidermis, hoping to use its power to break free. This time, however, something else came with the rush of strength. It was a voice. A voice he could hear all too clearly despite his damaged eardrums.

Retribution...retribution...retribution...

He quickly realized it was Pridak’s voice. And it was growing louder.

Retribution...retribution!

Pridak punched Brutaka in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. “You have committed a grave offense against me, Odinan. There will be no mercy for you.”

Brutaka managed to push free, falling into a gateway and trying to clear his thoughts. “What is this...it’s like he’s inside my head!”

Retribution! Retribution! Retribution! Retribution!

It was then Brutaka remembered something he had forgotten a long time ago. Visions of his earliest days came to him, days when the Great Beings watched him experiment with his powers, absorbing vast quantities of antidermis.

“That’s right...if I take in too much at once…”

RETRIBUTION! RETRIBUTION!

He clutched his head. It was too late to do anything about it now, and his wounds needed serious attention to boot. Much as he hated the idea, he knew retreat was his best option, and so he opened up a gateway.

“I’ll come back. This isn’t over…”

As he crawled out of the gateway, something grabbed him. Looking up, he realized with horror that it was Pridak, still burning with rage.

“What?! But I should be--gaah!”

RETRIBUTION!

Pridak hoisted him up. He realized his mistake: forming gateways required a great deal of focus, and that was something he had virtually none of at this point.

RETRIBUTION!

His thoughts were no longer his own, with Pridak’s essence within him now taking reign of them. Given that was where his thoughts lay, it was no wonder he had only been able to deposit himself directly at the Makuta’s feet.

RETRIBUTION!

Pridak stabbed Brutaka once more for good measure before dropping him in a crumpled heap. “You cannot possibly suffer enough for trying to consume me, Odinan.”

RETRIBUTION!

“However...I think I know a punishment that at least seems fitting.”

RETRIBUTION!

Brutaka couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. All he could do was watch as Pridak stepped back and threw his arms apart. Light erupted from his chest, molding into a long, tentacle-like arm that wrapped its fingers around Brutaka and immediately began to pull. In what fraction of his mind was still his own, Brutaka realized what was happening.

RETRIBUTION!

As his last act, he finally screamed.

RETRIBUTION!

Energy filled Pridak as he finished absorbing Brutaka, immediately using it to restore his armor and replenish his lost antidermis. He flexed his claws, then his arms, and then reared back to shout into the sky.

“Are you watching, O Great Beings? This is the fate of any who would try to deny me! I don’t care if the foe was made to kill me, or even if they made me! Stand against me...and perish!”

He exhaled loudly. Holding out his arms, he waited as servants came to take his swords. Then, he gestured to Nocturn and Ehlek, turned towards the city, and marched.

***

Brandishing a fragment of a railing she had found on the side of the road, Zaekura beat her way into what remained of the stadium, fighting with more than she realized she had against the current of Skull Spiders in relentless pursuit of its source. A group of Toa controlled by the creatures came into view. Even as they raised their weapons, Zaekura was too furious to slow down.

“Move!”

She acted without thinking. Elemental powers came flying towards her, but the compromised faculties of their wielders slowed them considerably. Zaekura tumbled through an opening, stayed low as she knocked the Toa’s feet out from under them, and then sprang forward without a second thought, knowing the Rahkshi were already incapacitating them. Soon she reached the room where the spiders’ pen was kept, and finally she stopped. Up ahead, back to her as he surveyed the ruined arena, stood Ekimu.

“You.”

Zaekura stalked forward. Ahkmou, still under the thrall of a Skull Spider, stepped towards her, but she batted him aside without missing a beat. Halfway across the room, she collided with something--an invisible wall keeping Ekimu safe. She began to bash her makeshift weapon against it.

“C’mere you coward! I’m gonna make you pay for this mess!”

Ekimu slowly turned to face her. “You aren’t getting through.”

Zaekura swung harder.

“Look at you. You think emotions are going to win this? Pathetic. Here we thought you were evolving, and you’re still nowhere near us.”

“Shut up! You call giving up your sense of decency ‘evolution’? What idiot would actually think that’s an improvement?!”

With her next swing, the metal rod she was carrying snapped in two. The broken piece smacked into her head, opening a small wound. Adjusting her grip, she continued with the part she still had, jamming the broken end into the barrier.

“You’re bleeding,” Ekimu said.

“I know!”

He shook his head. “See? You’re getting carried away, raging against me instead of trying to solve the problem. How stupid.”

Must as she hated to admit it, he had a point. Reluctantly, Zaekura tore herself away from the barrier, examining the pen as thoroughly as her rage would allow. “...Well? Great Beings love talking about their work, right?”

Ekimu took a few steps closer. “What’s there to tell? You’ve seen what they can do.”

Zaekura crouched next to the pen. “Right, hyper-aggressive mind control bugs. But like, why? Why specifically that?”

“I like masks. Always trying to do something new with them. Heard about masks that could be used to control others, so I wanted to put a spin on it.”

“...Okay, not sure what I expected. The heck kind of stasis field is this--how did they all fit? Does it distort space?”

Ekimu didn’t say anything.

“...There’s got to be a failsafe. A recall signal. How do I trigger it…”

Hearing Ekimu’s tools jangling, she looked over her shoulder to see him drawing a switch from his apron pocket.

“...Right. That makes sense. Cool.” Zaekura ran her hands over her face. “Ugh, so that’s no good. Rahkshi already tried Rahi Control and that didn’t work. How am I gonna do this…”

She flinched as a sudden headache came on. After watching her a moment more, Ekimu said, “How about this. I’ll make a deal with you.”

Zaekura rose to her feet. “What?”

“Do what I tell you, and I’ll recall the Skull Spiders. It’s one thing, something easy.”

“...And that would be?”

Ekimu gestured. Zaekura followed to see Ahkmou, the Toa of Stone still laying where she had sent him flying.

“...I don’t--”

“Kill him.”

Zaekura’s eyes widened. “W...what?”

“Kill the Toa, and I’ll recall the spiders.”

“No way! I’m not a killer, you sicko!”

“It’s the only way to save the people of Civitas Magna. You have to pick one.”

Zaekura clenched her teeth. “Why? What do you get out of this?”

Ekimu shrugged. “Curious, I guess. Want to see if you can make this kind of decision. That should tell me exactly where you are in your evolution.”

Zaekura walked up to the barrier, jamming the broken railing into it once more. She then turned to Ahkmou. After a long, long pause, she walked over to him. Stopping just over the Toa, Zaekura glared down at him and tightened her grip on her weapon. Ekimu craned his neck as she stooped, her back blocking his view.

“...There,” she said after a moment.

Ekimu came closer. Zaekura stood, leaving his view unobstructed--as far as he could tell, Ahkmou was unchanged. He turned back to Zaekura, seeing she held a tablet in her hand. It was the same tablet Ahkmou had used to release the spiders in the first place.

“This has loads of information on the spiders,” Zaekura said as she began typing. “And it’s connected to the pen! There must be a way to…” She shut her eyes tight, putting one hand to her forehead. “Not now...not now…”

Ekimu crossed his arms and watched in silence.

Trying to ignore the pain, Zaekura dug through the tablet’s files in search of something she could use. She could only skim over the vast quantities of information--Skull Spider physiology, dimensional calculations for the holding pen, records of behavioral patterns--but there was no time to waste. She paused once more as her headache grew, but pressed on until she had seen every bit of data stored. Lowering the tablet, she stared ahead blankly, and Ekimu waited to hear her say it.

“...There’s nothing,” she murmured. “Nothing here for recalling them. There’s nothing I can use to stop them…”

Ekimu held up his switch. Zaekura turned and stepped away, dropping the piece of railing so she could clutch her head.

“No, I’m not...that isn’t...I...can’t…”

“Those headaches are terrible, aren’t they?” Ekimu said. “That’s the price of accelerating evolution, though. I’d say it’s worth it.”

Zaekura faced him. The rage was all but gone from her eyes, replaced with a curiosity. “...That’s really what they are? We thought so, but…”

Ekimu nodded. “Mm-hm. Surprised to see it’s happening to you, though. I thought it was just that ugly creature that made it happen. Guess it’s something a little different after all.”

“Creature? What are you--” She grunted as the pain grew even worse. Looking at the tablet in her hand, she remembered what she was here to do--how had she forgotten? She lamented again the fact that the device was useless to her, full of nothing but page after page of raw data. Zaekura looked up. “...Huh. I only took a glance, but...I...”

Skull Spiders were omnivorous. They could adapt to any climate, though they thrived in temperate conditions. A handful of specimens possessed enhanced senses--the remnants of an abandoned feature Ekimu planned to reimplement in the next generation. They were aggressive even towards their own kind, hence why they had to be stored in stasis, though in the presence of other creatures they would put all in-fighting on hold. And for some reason, despite how quickly she had skimmed over all of this, Zaekura could recall it all perfectly.

“Their mind control ability...it’s a targeted link psionic function, with the framework doubling as a way to coordinate the swarm. Interesting…”

Ekimu raised an eyebrow.

“Hang on. Doesn’t that mean--” The next flash of pain brought her to her knees. Zaekura shouted through her teeth, “No, no! I’ve got it! I just...just need...haah!”

She turned the tablet over. Using the broken end of the railing, she was able to pry off the outer casing, and took a moment to note the placement of all its components. To Ekimu’s horror, she then ripped them out.

“This’ll work...this will work!”

The pain in her head was constant now, but she worked anyway. Leaving only a few wires directly connected to the tablet, she began to arrange the components on the ground and made her way over to the pen, feeling down one of the metal posts at its corners until she found a removable panel.

“Yes, perfect!”

She yanked a small gadget out of the post. The field sparked, wavered, and blinked out, leaving only the skeleton of a box behind. Zaekura tossed the gadget alongside the rest, and then jumped up and grabbed the top of the post with both hands. It bent as gravity pulled her back to the ground, and with the help of a kick at its center, she snapped it in two. She felt like her skull was being ground into dust. Dropping down on all fours, Zaekura disassembled a few of the components she had laid out in a flash before reassembling them in a new configuration. Arranging it alongside the remaining components, she grabbed the wiring and linked them all together, finally picking up the broken post and taking it back to where the tablet lay.

“Almost there...almost there…”

The pain intensified. Zaekura curled up, digging her fingers into her head, and whimpered. Her brain was a boiling puddle, and the fire that had melted it was starting to spread down her spinal cord. She extended one shaking hand, clawing at the floor, dragging herself over to the tablet.

“Al...most...there…!”

Zaekura pushed herself onto her knees, then onto her feet. She thrust the piece of post into the ceiling, waiting a moment to be sure it would stay, and then breathed deeply and reactivated the tablet.

“I see,” Ekimu said. “Those parts will do what you’re aiming for, but you’d need to--”

“Shut up!” Zaekura yelled. “Just...shut up...already!”

The screen lit up. Zaekura adjusted one of the wires. Static briefly covered the screen, and once it stabilized, she opened a window and began typing.

“This...needs to do that...and then...this...to that...and...uh…”

She shuddered violently as the pain continued to spread.

“Th-this...uh...do...that…and...”

She could barely see the screen right in front of her eyes, but she was sure of what she had typed. Zaekura took another deep breath as she fought to stay on her feet. Keeping her finger as steady as possible, she reached for the button to execute her new program.

“Done!”

Power surged through the web of components, ultimately erupting in a bolt that shot from the tablet casing up to the post in the ceiling. With a high-pitched whine, the energy shot outward in a quick-moving pulse, passing through the walls and spreading out over the city. Then, for a moment, all was silent. Ahkmou stirred. The legs of the Skull Spider controlling him snapped open, and the creature peeled itself off of the Toa’s face.

Zaekura grinned. “Yes…”

The spider then scuttled off, leaving the room and heading down the arena wall. Ekimu asked, “Where is it going?”

“The Maze,” Zaekura said. “I changed the...recall coordinates...they’re all headed...for the Maze…”

Ekimu blinked. Turning to look out the balcony, he saw hundreds more Skull Spiders rushing in the same direction, leaving behind any Toa or Matoran they might have held. “...Huh.”

Zaekura fell back to her knees. “Ha...haha...I did it…”

Looking at her, Ekimu said, “That...shouldn’t have been possible. You can’t be that evolved.”

Zaekura said nothing--she was panting too hard to form a single word.

“...Well, you’ve made a more pressing issue for me. Heremus won’t be happy if those things show up at the Maze in force.”

She glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her collapse.

“Too many disloyal Makuta here, and the Odinans are down...alright. You win.” He paused to snap his fingers. “I’m leaving. But on my way, I’m razing Artidax to the ground for sheltering you.”

His words were distant, muffled. Zaekura watched as a winged figure materialized next to Ekimu, and in the next instant, they were both gone. She waited a few more seconds to be sure of it. Then, her consciousness finally succumbed to the pain.

“Zaekura!”

She started awake. A dull throbbing still filled her head, but compared to what she had felt earlier it was nothing. Blinking a few times, she started to process what she was seeing: Bitil and a handful of his Rahkshi were standing over her.

“Lady Zaekura,” Bitil said, “are you alright?”

“Y...yeah,” Zaekura mumbled, gradually sitting up. “Sorry to worry you. I’m alive.”

The group collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Gently grabbing her shoulder, Bitil said, “Are you sure you should move? It may be better if you rest until we can get a doctor here.”

“It’s okay, really. Uh, how long was I out?”

“Can’t have been more than ten minutes.”

“Really? I wouldn’t expect to feel so well-rested after just that.” She let Bitil help her up. “I got rid of the Skull Spiders. What’s our status otherwise?”

Bitil nodded towards the wall. A cracked viewscreen was hung there, the damage minor enough that it still functioned. Displayed on it was Gaaki, the Ga-Matoran standing behind a short desk as she spoke to the camera, doing her best to keep her voice clear despite her audible fatigue.

“I repeat,” she said. “Lord Ekimu unleashed a swarm of some strange creature upon the city, one capable of taking control of the minds of beings who wear Kanohi! At this moment, they seem to be retreating, but exercise caution! From what we’ve seen, control is absolute: you will be unable to protect yourself from danger if one claims you! We will provide updates as they become available. Until then, I implore Lord Ekimu to take control of this situation he has caused! This--”

As she continued, Zaekura turned back to Bitil. “That seems good. Assuming people believe her, I guess…”

“Many already do,” Bitil said. “All resistance has stopped. If the spiders are truly taken care of, then we should be able to leave here unimpeded.”

“Oh. Great! Let’s go, then, we…”

She faced the exit and stopped. Krika and Yarion both stood waiting for her.

“Uh...hi.”

“No need to worry,” Krika said. “Yarion, this is Zaekura. Zaekura, this is Makuta Yarion, Guardian of Civitas Magna.”

Yarion bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Zaekura. I’m afraid I have much to apologize for.”

Krika glanced about. “May I ask what happened to Ekimu?”

Zaekura grinned and gave a thumbs-up. “Kicked him out. He’s running home to the Maze right now.”

“Ah, that must be why Vamprah left in such a hurry.”

“Probably. Anyway, Yarion...we don’t want any trouble.”

They shook their head. “Nor do I. I’ve had quite enough of carrying out the Great Beings’ dreadful orders. If at all possible...I was actually hoping to negotiate terms of surrender.”

Zaekura inclined her head. “...Huh? Really?”

“Yes. It’s quite clear to me--and perhaps most of Civitas Magna now--that the Great Beings do not have our best interests at heart. You, on the other hand, have given us every reason to trust you. As Guardian of this city, I declare Civitas Magna to be yours, if you will have it.”

Zaekura stared at them. After a gentle nudge from Bitil, she said, “Oh, uh...yeah. Sure. Or, um, I accept. We’ll, uh, discuss terms shortly--I want to round everyone up first, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I think I could also use some time to…” Their eyes fell to the blasters attached to their arms. “...ah, compose myself…shall I await you at my office?”

“Sounds great.”

Yarion excused themself then. Zaekura said, “Hey can someone get in touch with Pridak? Immediately?”

“I took the liberty of dispatching a messenger while you were still unconscious,” Bitil said.

“Thanks.” She let out a breath as she sat down on the ground. “I’m gonna take, like...five minutes, if that’s alright?”

“Worry not, Lady Zaekura. I’ll gather everyone together while you recuperate.”

“I appreciate it.”

As Bitil departed, Krika said, “Well. Things took quite a turn, but you indisputably came out on top.”

Zaekura chuckled. “It’s still processing...but, yeah. We control Civitas Magna now. Huh.”

“And we’re allied with those controlling most of Bota Magna, as well as Aqua Magna. Not to mention the powerful claim we’ve staked on Bara Magna.”

Zaekura nodded, then rested her head in one hand. I can’t believe we’ve come this far. I mean, there’s still a lot more to do, but...man. We actually came this far.

#Bionicle #fanfiction #Right of Law #Melding Universe

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spockandawe · 4 years ago

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Oh, would you look at that, is it fish book pitch o’clock again? IT SURE IS!!

So, here’s my angle du jour. I’m a sucker for a feral and/or unsocialized fictional character, especially if the story puts them in a position where they either need or want to catch up to their peers on the social front. I didn’t really click with Jin Zixuan until I saw a post breaking down how his awkwardness made a lot of sense in terms of growing up isolated and undersocialized, and I really love takes on young Lan Wangji that really lean into him not knowing how to play with the other children. It’s more fanon than canon, given screentime, but I love takes on Mobei-jun that do the same thing. And! Outside of the cnovel world altogether, it’s part of why i would Die for both Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus. It’s so tasty!

And Jing-wang is a version of this that I don’t think I’ve seen before. I’ve had this bouncing around in my head for a while, but I can’t quite come up with any parallels. Jing-wang grew up isolated in one way because he was an imperial prince, with a dead mother and no surviving siblings. The boy doesn’t have many peers, and things are... messy with his half-brothers. But since he’s mute, he’s (theoretically) not in the running for the throne, and he’s not involved in as much political wheeling and dealing as the other princes. And also since he’s mute, communication with other people is a bit of an ordeal, and only a few people who are very close to him are good at interpreting him, outside of him writing things down. I get the idea that he does very well for himself at understanding and steering the political playing field, even if he’s not mixed up deeply in things himself, but he’s.... very not good when it comes to connecting with anyone on any kind of personal level.

But what delights me the most is that this mainly gets expressed through him being 1) a very devoted and well-meaning pet owner, 2) who is very BAD at being a pet owner.

It gets expressed in little funny ways that go by quickly, like in a stressful meeting, where Jing-wang is squeezing Li Yu’s back in a self-soothing way, and Li Yu is like ‘ow, OW, TOO HARD’ and swims away, and Jing-wang is like >:( for two seconds before Li Yu comes back and starts swimming through his fingers again, and Jing-wang realizes he was squeezing too hard. Or later on, after Li Yu’s been living in a huge tank, Jing-wang is like ‘okay, you live in this bottle now, so i can bring you Everywhere with me’ and Li Yu has to fake being unwell so that Jing-wang realizes that the bottle is way too small to be a permanent fish residence. Very quick little empathy things, where Jing-wang gets the intended message pretty darn quickly, but he still had to be taught the lesson in the first place.

But there’s also like... also early on, Li Yu gets a side quest to steal a pearl from the headdress of the Emperor’s favorite concubine. In the process of doing so, he soaks Jing-wang in front of the Emperor, accidentally slaps the concubine in the face, freaks her out, freaks her son out, accidentally frames the two of them for trying to hurt Jing-wang’s pet fish, and knocks the pearl loose... but sends it to the floor. Fortunately, Jing-wang notices that the fish seems REAL interested in this pearl, and retrieves it, but he’s also pissed at the fish for causing so much trouble.

So what does he do? He’s like ‘OKAY. FINE. You want this pearl? Well what I’m going to do is seal this pearl TIGHT inside a glass vial, and then I’m going to put that vial RIGHT in your tank, so you can see the pearl, but you can NEVER HAVE IT’, you know, like a normal human way to treat your pet fish. Only then, Li Yu had already felt bad about causing such a big scene, and sets up a whole apology where he offers Jing-wang his food (because it’s the only thing he has) and tries bowing in apology, and Jing-wang thinks something like ‘...as long as someone was willing to deal with him sincerely, even if they were a fish, he would treat them sincerely in return’ and he gives Li Yu the pearl.

First of all, I never knew I so desperately needed a book where a man tries to play psychological games with his pet fish, second of all, Li Yu is the sketchiest “““fish””” of all time, and third, oh my god Jing-wang how sheltered are you, how do you not realize that this is nowhere in the vicinity of being normal fish behavior??

(to be fair to him, it doesn’t take him that long to realize things are suspicious, and by the thirty-somethingth chapter he has a decent hypothesis for what the fock is going on with his pet fish)

And later in the book, after he knows that this fish is at least sometimes human-shaped, I’d already been pleasantly taken by surprise (in the mtl chapters) to realize that the relationship development involved Li Yu laying down boundaries and holding Jing-wang accountable when he tried getting around them. And like with the squeezing plot point, Jing-wang is very quick to get the message that something he did made this fish/person unhappy, to realize that he doesn’t want them to be unhappy, and to make a very serious effort to change his behavior so he doesn’t make that mistake again. I just hadn’t quite connected the dots to realizing that Li Yu was coaching him through a number of basic emotional development steps even before things reached the point of sex and consent, haha

(in fairness to me, I think Li Yu is extremely oblivious to all of this. which is one of my favorite flavors of character development in fiction, honestly? i love seeing this growth that’s driven by another person, but unintentionally so, so that two people end up drifting closer and closer, and becoming more and more important to each other, without that ever being something they deliberately work towards)

And I think that the idea that Li Yu is coaching Jing-wang through the steps of emotional growth is honestly supported by the other characters in the novel. In the “original” book, Jing-wang falls in love with and marries Chu Yanyu, who very definitely is not in love with him, and is happy to let Jing-wang get hurt and suffer on his behalf, through what sounds like a very unhappy, toxic relationship. In the book we get, all it takes is a little affection and attention from a pet fish, for Jing-wang to totally ignore what should have been Chu Yanyu’s entry into his life, and for him to continue ignoring Chu Yanyu no matter how many times he’s thrown/throws himself into Jing-wang’s path.

Jing-wang does have some people who care about him, but those relationships are... either unequal, or not-mutual, or made difficult in other ways. The Emperor cares about him, but has complicated feelings, since the Empress died shortly after Jing-wang’s birth, where she was already in poor health after losing two other sons, and it seemed like her health got worse after Jing-wang was born mute. The Emperor also tries not to pay him too much attention, because he’s ineligible to inherit the throne anyways, and paying him attention would make him more of a political target. Jing-wang’s main servant, Wang Xi, cares about him deeply, and is the most reliable interpreter for his nonverbal communication, but is also a servant, not a peer. And Jing-wang’s cousin (on his mother’s side) likes him a lot, but their temperaments are highly incompatible, and Jing-wang tends to get annoyed and throw him out when he comes to visit. (the rest of his mother’s family cares about him too, but Jing-wang isn’t a social beast, and doesn’t make himself terribly accessible either)

And like, early, early in the book, at that stressful meeting where Jing-wang squeezes the fish too hard, before things get stressful, the Emperor is completely derailed from the initial purpose of the meeting, because he’s so pleased that Jing-wang has something he cares about, even if it’s just a little pet fish. He continues to be increasingly pleased with this fish as the book goes on, and it’s both hella charming, but also very :( for what it says about how detached Jing-wang was from the world for the last twenty years of his life. And as of chapter 27, Li Yu is trying to meddle with the book plot to save Jing-wang’s cousin from a scheme that will ultimately see him dead, and Jing-wang just agreed to go with his cousin to the imperial palace, to keep an eye on him. And Wang Xi is so moved by this outreach from Jing-wang that he legit tears up.

Jing-wang is so isolated! Jing-wang is able to play politics, but he does not know how to deal with other people on a friendly social level, and Li Yu is accidentally helping him catch up! I was invested purely on the basis of ‘oh my godddd, jing-wang loves his fish so much,’ which he absolutely does, taking care of his fish is basically his number one priority, but that’s not nearly all there is to this situation! I’m so excited to read the chapters covering the initial relationship development as translated by a human, rather than a machine, because I just know there’s tasty, tasty emotional content in there.

I could have been totally happy with a book where Jing-wang remained cold and detached with one (1) exception, and that’s a relationship paradigm I totally enjoy reading, but seeing Li Yu accidentally teach him to open up and form attachments to other people too is so rewarding and I love it! I know later on, his cousin is falling in love at the same time he is, he has more dealings with his father, and his mother’s family enters the scene here and there, and I badly need to read it. This is just the best comfort food I could have asked for right now. It’s a lovely balance of cute, moving, and absolutely ridiculous, and has character development more gripping than I could have ever expected. I love it so much, you guys ;u;

#the disabled tyrant's pet palm fish #long post/#cnovel rec

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