#it's not unreasonable to expect a follow through otherwise it's not just cruel it's also abortive

[rimatsu]

why highlight tommy's longing and envy for a family and the family unit within the 118 specifically, not once not twice but THRICE, if it's going to amount to nothing 🤨

[littleblackqrow]

((I think the most frustrating part of watching people analyze the actions of characters in vol8 is that the biggest complaint is that logic is thrown out the window and I would argue that’s the point. Especially because of the perspective of the show. I really hate to keep picking on Ironwood, Qrow, and RWBY, but those characters are the ones driving the plot, so I guess we gotta.

Lets start with RWBY. They’re kids first off. WBY are all about 19-20 years old and Ruby is 17. Lets start off by saying those are ages not exactly known for smart, long term decision making. Most people that age are trying to figure out what they want to do for the rest of their lives, struggling with college, dates, drinking, sex for the first time. They’re stumbling around in adult bodies while still having more or less the mind of a teenager because society has suddenly stopped treating them like a kid and expects them to be an adult. Except instead of having to struggle with decisions about their near future, RWBY is being asked to save the world. If you think you could handle that pressure well at 17-19, you’re lying. 

Does it make their decisions right though? No. The way they treated Ozpin for hiding the worst of his abuse and the fact that his ex-wife was an insane bitch who is functionally immortal is wrong. But again, I ask you, could you handle having all that dumped into your lap in an already stressful situation? The person who should be (and rightly is) condemned for his reaction is Qrow for throwing a punch. No matter how upset you are no hitting. Once you throw a punch in that situation, you’re the bad guy. And until he makes an effort of an apology he’s the bad guy in that situation. 

The biggest problem that team RWBY has is that all of their terrible decisions throughout the show have either been rewarded, or the got bailed out from having to see the real consequences. 

Ozpin allowed Blake to hide her White Fang past and therefore missed the least subtle component of the Fall of Beacon. Things could have been significantly less bad if he’d known about their involvement and was able to send Qrow in to spy on their operations. Maybe he could have figured out what Roman or Adam was up to, realized they were working for Cinder and by extension Salem.

Ozpin allowed team RWBY to do a mission that was a couple grades too advanced for them because he knew they’d break the rules otherwise. That was a tacit acknowledgement that he thought whatever they were up to was alright, and that they had his blessings on whatever it was that they wanted to do.

The best example of terrible decision after terrible decision that RWBYJNR makes is Argus. They have no idea how they’re getting the Relic to Atlas, and they seem road blocked. Jaune suggests stealing an airship, and Qrow, the adult in the room tells them that this is a bad idea, and if it goes bad it has the potential to screw up their entire life. He’s right. The problem is that he’d run off on his bender, and therefore the kids, and we in the audience, are supposed to see this as an unreasonable suggestion. 

However, it plays out as him being right. The incredibly complicated plan did go wrong. Now, they had no reason to suspect at the time that Adam was stalking Blake at the time (and I could go into why thats perfectly ic for him at another date), but there were a lot of moving parts in this plan and literally any of them could have broken. Everything that happened after they put this plan into motion was reactionary. Cordovan, obsessed with showing the Might of Atlas (TM), jumped into the mech suit. At that point, Ruby didnt really have a choice of not breaking it. But the ensuing fight created enough general unease that it summoned a Grimm hoard.

By rights, Argus should have fallen because of their bad decisions and in spire of their best efforts. Instead, Cordovan had a change of heart at the last moment and bailed them out.

This just reinforced the flawed idea that RWBY is always in the right and directly lead to s7′s climax. They are the unstoppable force.

Now you have Ironwood, quite literally the unmovable object, which I now realize is sort of his name. Ha.

Ironwood’s behavior does not come out of nowhere. Since his appearance, he’s had problem stamped all over him. He showed up with an entire goddamn army to a supposedly peaceful event that is to promote unity and the excellence of each kingdom. His rationale is that the people are going to be impressed with his big guns and feel safe. Ozpin gently points out that those big guns also signal to people that there is something out there that those big guns are designed to shoot. 

If its not a Grimm, could it mean that Atlas intends to shoot people?

Remember we’re not even 100 years out from the last World War, one that was basically started by Atlas. People are nervous. There are still grandparents and great grandparents alive today that were kids when the Great War was happening. Not only that but we’re also made aware that Atlas has rolled in the apolitical protectors of the people, the Huntsmen, into its military. This elite fighting force that is basically above the law and can go to any country in the world whenever they want, is now part of the military. The ONLY standing military that Remnant seems to have.

All of this has obviously caused friction in the Inner Circle. Qrow is not quite and never has been quiet about his disdain for James’ heavy handed techniques. Glynda calls James’ actions a dick measuring competition, and Ozpin was trying to be gentle about it, but he was clearly telling Ironwood to get his army off his fucking front lawn. And what did Ironwood do? He’d gone around Ozpin and talked to the Vale council.  They were threatening to remove Oz fro his position because they agreed with Ironwood: he was being too passive. Ironwood even tells Glynda that he cant believe that a man he trusted for so long would just sit by and stand to the side instead of meeting the problem head on. He didnt seem to understand why Qrow would want to go gather intelligence on an operation before sending in the big guns. 

Ironwood has never been a man to put a well thought out plan with all his ducks in a row into motion. This is a man who plows through opposition at every opportunity.

And when we see him again, we can see him steamrolling through opposition again. Somehow he got himself two seats on the council. That gives him an enormous amount of power. And his position as general means that at any point he can declare an emergency and become the de facto dictator of Atlas if he deems it fit. The problem is that he’s having these arguments against Jacques Schnee a man that the audience rightly hates, so he seems reasonable. Who gives a fuck about Jacques loosing business, he’s a dickhead. We’re not noticing the fact that James is consolidating power, or that he’s using that power to make unilateral decisions with no one telling him no.

There’s no one left in the room who is able or willing to tell him that these are bad ideas, that there will be consequences that he cant foresee. His  bullish behavior lead to both Robyn Hill and Jacques Schnee running for an empty council seat, and that created the environment that we walked into in s7.

Now, not all James’ ideas are bad. The Amity Project is actually a really good one, and James is right in wanting to keep it from the general public until its near completion. But you know who should have known? The other fucking council members. Probably the candidates. Playing your cards too close to the chest when you clearly need help and allies is a bad thing. But again, James didnt even trust Ozpin to be able to run his own kingdom, so durr hurr of course he’s the only one who can take care of Amity. And run a kingdom. And run an academy. And protect an ageing, ailing Maiden. And of course he doesnt have time to treat his horrific PTSD from the Fall of Beacon.

So when things go tits up because again, of course they will with a plan that complex James Ironwood doubles the fuck down on his terrible solo decision making. Clearly, non of this is his fault. No one is listening to him. He cannot trust others to make decisions so he’s going to make all of them. There’s no one around him to tell him no, especially because the first person that tried was publicly executed. 

James is scared. He’s had a mental break because of that fear. His paranoia, his PTSD, and the fact that there’s nothing there to help him back to stability means that he’s just going to be bouncing from one terrible choice to the next. He’s Hamlet in the throes of paranoia, heading down a road that is going to get everyone, including himself killed. He is King Lear as the world crumbles around him, acting cruel and making unreasonable, horrible demands of those around him. 

Working with Watts seems like an absolutely terrible idea, but to someone who thinks that he is in control of the situation because he has to be in order to keep functioning, there’s no way that this can bite him in the ass. For James, if no one is willing to follow his orders, he’s going to make them. This attitude is probably exactly why Watts did what he did and joined Salem in the first place. 

So when you combine the unstoppable force of Team RWBY, who’s been told they’re the child saviors of the world, and who’ve been either rewarded or bailed out of their bad decisions against the immovable object of Ironwood and his absolute conviction in himself, you have the mess Atlas is in now.

Honestly I find it kind of brilliant. 

[finduilasclln]

Stony prompt for number 39 ;)

Prompt : “Hey! I was gonna eat that!” 

Pairing: Steve/Tony

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

~~~Tony’s been out of the room for a good half hour when he walks back in to find Bucky finishing up what was left of Tony’s dessert. 

“Hey!” Tony calls out, pocketing his phone as he strides up to Bucky. “I was gonna eat that!” 

“Sorry man,” Bucky says around the last mouthful of leftover chocolate cake and Steve can’t help but snigger until he notices that Tony’s face is far from amused. “I thought you weren’t coming back.” Bucky adds bewildered, clearly noticing Tony’s demeanor as well. 

“That was a business call,” Tony snaps, glaring down at Bucky who’s still seated at the table and is staring up at Tony with wide eyes. “I had to take it,” Tony goes on, curt. “That doesn’t mean you can just…” He scoffs.  “Some of us have to work for a living, to afford all this for all of you. We can’t just all mooch off of - ” 

“Whoa, Tony,” Steve says hurriedly, interrupting him, his chair scraping back over the dining room floor as he stands. “That’s a bit unfair.” 

“Unfair?” Tony asks, his voice sharp and not at all like Steve is used to. “I step away for two minutes and I forfait all rights to my food?” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, his shoulders now stiff and his jaw clenched. He’s avoiding Tony’s eyes, and Steve can’t help but feel sorry for his friend, because he knows how much he tries to avoid conflict nowadays. And how much he’s tried to befriend Tony ever since he moved into the compound, despite how hard it’s been given the history between them. “I thought you’d finished your call and gone to your workshop or something. I didn’t think you were coming back.” 

“Come on, Tony,” Steve says softly, searching out Tony’s gaze. “We weren’t expecting you back. It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

Tony lets out a humorless snort. There’s a certain anguish over his face that Steve isn’t used to seeing, and that he definitely doesn’t like on Tony’s face. 

“Bucky asked,” Natasha pipes in, giving Tony a look. “We all told him to go for it.” 

“Right,” Tony says, nodding. As well as he knows Tony, Steve can’t quite figure out why on earth he is acting this way all of a sudden. The entire blow-up seems completely out of proportion, and while Tony is prone to heated arguments, this one seems unreasonable at best. 

“Hey, I can go down to the mess,” Bucky says as he gets up off his chair, a hopeful look on his face. “Maybe there’s something good left in the fridges that I can go and steal for you.” 

“Right,” Tony says, but he’s already turning towards the door. His voice has a bite to it as he says, before leaving the room, “‘cause you’re good at stealing things from under people’s noses, aren’t you?” 

***

Steve and Tony have had their fair share of arguments, but Steve has always been able to see Tony’s point of view on things. He doesn’t always agree, but Tony has never been unreasonable like he’s been today. It’s taken Steve by surprise, the little outburst in the kitchen, the snide comments at Bucky… 

Steve knows that Tony and Bucky don’t exactly have the easiest past. But after the initial tough start, Tony really went above and beyond to make things right between him and Bucky, much to Bucky’s surprise. Bucky didn’t feel like he deserved Tony’s forgiveness at first, but Steve had told him that that was just the kind of guy Tony was. The kind of guy Steve had grown to know and love. He had a good heart, and it had been such a relief to Steve when Tony and Bucky started getting along. Tony even invited Bucky to come live at the compound. Well, he didn’t do the inviting himself, but he urged Steve to, saying he knew how much it would mean to Steve to have his best friend move in, and reassuring Steve that he was okay with it. 

The last few months, since Bucky moved in, have been great. Steve feels like he’s got the best of his both worlds combined, his new family in the Avengers and his lifelong best friend all in the same place, getting along. Especially now that Bucky is on the mend and settling in nicely with everyone. 

Until Tony went and freaked out about Bucky eating the rest of his dessert, that is… 

Which is why Steve is currently knocking on Tony’s workshop door, and getting no answer. 

“FRIDAY,” Steve sighs, even though he already knows the answer. “He’s in there, isn’t it?” 

“He is, Captain,” FRIDAY answers, “But he has asked not to be disturbed.” 

“Seriously?” Steve mutters, then calls out loud enough that he knows Tony will hear it - and otherwise FRIDAY will relay the message for him. “Are you actually going to hide from me in there?!” 

When there’s no answer, Steve shouts, “I can break down this door and you know it!” 

“Boss says he’d like to see you try,” FRIDAY informs him dryly. 

“Fine,” Steve huffs, and takes a few steps back to be able to get some momentum to burst through the door. Tony leaves him no choice. 

He’s about to put his shoulder in it when the door opens up automatically to reveal a put upon Tony. 

“I don’t have time to fix what you break when you’re being a caveman,” Tony mutters as he walks back to his working station, turning his back on Steve. 

“What is wrong with you?” Steve asks, frowning as he follows Tony into the room. 

“Jury’s still out on that,” Tony says matter-of-factly, “But I believe the words narcissistic and daddy-issues have been floating around.” 

Tony’s shoulders are hunched as he sits back down and his fingers tap quickly over the hologram keyboard. 

“Tony…” Steve says softly, because there’s clearly something going on here - something that isn’t chocolate cake - and it’s putting Tony in a mood. “What’s wrong?” 

“Forget about it,” Tony shakes his head, deliberately not looking at Steve as he throws up some complicated looking plans in the air. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Steve says, rounding the table so he can face Tony. “If you’re snapping at Bucky like this - ” 

“God, fine!” Tony calls out, put upon. “I’ll apologize to your precious bo- Bucky. Just… leave me alone.” 

The words feel like a punch to the gut to Steve. The clear dismissal, the comments that feel almost deliberately cruel… It reminds Steve of the time in the Helicarrier, all those years ago, when they were under the influence of Loki’s scepter. 

“What on earth has gotten into you, Tony?” Steve asks, and he’s trying very hard not to let his annoyance show too much, because the last thing he wants is to get into a shouting match with Tony, but Tony sure as hell isn’t making it easy on him. 

“Nothing!” Tony repeats, once again, flicking his fingers rapidly at the holograms to make images appear and disappear. “I just wanted a quiet dinner with you guys and not have to fucking think about…” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face as he trails off. 

“Think about what?” Steve asks, almost desperate, because this is starting to feel like pulling teeth. “I thought you and Bucky were getting along? I thought you were… you know, in a good place. I know a lot has happened, and it’s been hard on you, but…”

“It’s not - ” Tony shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “Bucky’s a good guy. I know he is.” 

“He went out to go find an all night bakery for you,” Steve says, trying hard to get a hint of a smile on Tony’s face. “I’m pretty sure he’s gonna come back with enough desserts to put you in a sugar coma.” 

“Oh,” Tony’s face falls, a trace of guilt visible on it. “He didn’t have to do that…” 

“I know, I told him.” Steve shrugs. But Bucky wanted to make it right any way he could, so he went out anyway. Natasha accompanied him, telling Steve to ‘go take care of Tony’. “Because this really isn’t about the chocolate cake, is it?” Steve asks. 

“You… I’m happy for you,” Tony says, deflated, and happy is about the last thing Steve would use to describe Tony right now. “That he’s back. That, that you have him back.” 

“Bucky?” Steve frowns, because he’s not entirely sure he’s following what Tony is talking about. 

Tony nods, deliberately not meeting Steve’s eyes. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, hesitantly. He is, of course, ridiculously happy that he’s got Bucky back. They’ve been best friends since forever, and losing him was one of the hardest things Steve has had to deal with in his life. What he doesn’t understand is why it seems like it makes Tony sad.  Or why Tony had his little outburst in the first place. 

“If I apologize, do you, uh… do you think he’ll stay mad at me?” Tony asks, swiping away the holograms before he starts tinkering aimlessly at some metal pieces that are on his work bench. 

“He’s not mad now,” Steve says, sympathetically. “It’s Bucky, he… he just thinks he’s to blame.” 

The words make Tony cringe, and that’s not what Steve was aiming for either, of course. 

“Fuck,” Tony breathes out, knocking the metal pieces off the bench with his hand, “I’m such a jealous piece of shit.” He buries his face in his hands, turning away from Steve again. 

“Tony…” Steve starts, because as much as he doesn’t want Bucky to blame himself for all the troubles of the world - which he already does so often - he certainly doesn’t want Tony to do so either. In a sense Tony is a lot like Bucky in that respect, because he also - 

Wait. 

“Jealous?” Steve blurts out, because his mind gets stuck on the word and can’t seem to process it. Why does Tony have to be jealous? Who is he jealous of? It doesn’t make any sense. Tony just groans and sighs like he was hoping Steve would glance over what he said, or maybe wouldn’t have heard him, which is ridiculous because Steve has super serum hearing and he definitely heard Tony call himself jealous. 

And then something clicks in Steve’s head, and he feels like the air is being sucked out of his chest, because he’s replaying the conversation in his head… Because Tony said that he was happy for Steve and Bucky, as if… as if they were… a thing. And because Tony said he’s jealous and oh God… 

“You’re in love with Bucky?” Steve calls out, strangled. It feels like a punch to the gut, because Lord, he loves these two people so much - in very different ways - and he wants them to be happy but in all honesty he can’t say if he’d be able to cope with seeing them together. It would feel like his best friends ripping his heart right out of his chest with their bare hands and oh God, his breathing is heavy and his chest is pounding, and then Tony looks at him with an indecipherable expression on his face. 

“What?” Tony says, incredulous. “God, Steve, no!”  

“But, you said…” Steve stammers, completely and utterly confused. 

“Please, can you just…” Tony asks, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the door, shoulders slouched and eyes faintly red. 

“Tony…?” Steve asks, because there is no way he can just step away now. 

“I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Tony yells out, almost desperately. 

There’s a ringing in Steve’s ears as the phrase replays on a loop in his brain and all he can do is stare at Tony incredulously. Tony looks about as miserable as Steve has ever seen him, and all Steve wants to do is step up to him and throw his arms around him and hold him close, but it seems like he’s frozen in place. 

I’m in love with you, you idiot! 

with you

It’s only when Steve suddenly inhales sharply that he realizes he’s been holding his breath. The ringing is still present in his ears and he tries to say something but he doesn’t know what. His brain is having a difficult time processing what Tony said, even though it’s everything Steve has been longing to hear. But everything Steve simply can’t believe is true. 

“Please leave,” Tony says, almost inaudible, like something broke inside of him, and Steve can see him turning away. Then all of a sudden Steve’s body is acting on its own, taking two long strides towards Tony and his hand is on Tony’s upper arm, preventing him from turning away from him. 

Tony’s eyes are wide and bewildered as Steve grips him, like he’s afraid of what Steve is going to do next, but then Steve’s eyes are closing by themselves and his mouth is crushing against Tony’s and the ringing in Steve’s ears stops abruptly to make place for Tony’s heartbeat. Or is it his own that he can hear? Either way it’s pounding, but Tony’s lips are soft and warm and are pressing back against his own. 

Steve slips his hands up Tony’s neck, fingers cupping underneath his jawline, thumbs resting on Tony’s cheeks, and there’s a soft noise that escapes Tony’s throat - a whimper - and it erupts a fire within Steve’s body. He parts his lips, tongue swiping out and immediately finding access in Tony’s mouth. Tony’s hands are gripping at the back of Steve’s shirt, and his entire body is pressed in against Steve’s, and Steve forgets how to think, how to fonction, how to breathe… 

He doesn’t know how long they’re standing there, time irrelevant in the warmth of Tony’s kiss, when they finally do break away - a need for oxygen becoming dire - but Steve rests his forehead against Tony’s, and one hand is cupping the back of his neck, and Tony’s chest is solid and reassuring against Steve’s. 

“I’m an idiot,” Steve whispers, his voice sounding rough. 

“ ‘s what I told you…” Tony mutters, tilting his face a bit, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s cheek. 

“I thought…” Steve trails off.

“I know,” Tony says, his breathing still heavy. “I thought..” 

“Me and Bucky?” Steve asks softly. His eyes are closed but he can feel Tony nodding against his face. 

“It made sense,” Tony says like a confession. 

“I don’t know,” Steve says, an arm slipping around Tony’s shoulder, desperate not to let go, “Maybe. But no.” 

“I’m an asshole,” Tony says, and Steve immediately silences him with a quick kiss, because no. 

“What you said about him stealing things from under your nose…” Steve says, pulling away just far enough to be able to look Tony in the eyes. 

“I thought…” Tony says, a slight blush on his cheeks which could be the result of the kiss or embarrassment, Steve can’t tell. “We were getting closer. I was… I thought we were… heading somewhere. But then you and him… there’s this history, and…” 

“He’s my brother,” Steve says honestly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of Tony’s neck, “We’re close, yes, but… there’s nothing…” Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to explain, because as much as he loves Bucky with all his heart, he’s never had those kinds of thoughts or feelings about him, ever. “It’s you, Tony,” Steve says, “You and only you.” 

And the way Tony kisses him makes Steve think that maybe he didn’t explain it so badly after all. 

***

They get to the kitchen just as Bucky and Natasha are unpacking boxes of treats and Tony groans as he takes in the sight, subconsciously moving to stand behind Steve a bit, as if he’s trying to hide. 

“Bucky…” Tony whispers, guilt audible in his voice. 

Bucky’s head snaps up, and he immediately holds out one of the boxes in Tony’s direction. “Do you like lobster tails?” he asks, a bit unsure. “I’m not sure what it is, but it looks really good.” 

“Buck…” Tony tries, but Bucky just sets the box down on the table and grabs another one. 

“We’ve got lots,” he says, looking around at the assortment in front of him. “I wasn’t sure what you liked best. I’ve got a couple of different kinds of chocolate cake, but there’s cupcakes and cream puffs and cannoli’s - ” 

“Oh my God, Bucky, stop,” Tony says as he steps towards the table. “You didn’t have to - I’m an asshole.” 

“Yeah, y’are,” Natasha mutters as she grabs one of the sugar cookies and takes a bite into it. 

“Alright,” Steve says, looking at Natasha. “Why don’t we give these two some privacy so this one can apologize properly.” He puts his palm playfully over the back of Tony’s head and nudges him a little bit. 

“Thanks,” Tony says, shooting Steve a small smile, before looking back at Bucky. 

“We’ll go get the others afterwards,” Steve says, looking at the assortment of desserts displayed on the table. “We’ll have a late night dessert party or something, ‘cause there’s no way the two of you are eating all of this alone.” 

He shoots Bucky a reassuring wink, because he knows Tony will make things right again. Natasha grabs another cookie before Steve nudges her out of the room. 

“He’s gonna apologize?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow at Steve once they’re out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah, he was just…” Steve trails off, shrugging. 

“Jealous?” Natasha supplies for him with a knowing smile. 

Steve just stares at her. “How did you…?” he frowns. 

Natasha’s only answer is a cocky smirk. 

“You know, you’re seriously scary sometimes,” Steve says, shaking his head. 

“Don’t hurt him,” Natasha warns, but her voice is surprisingly soft. “He’s an ass but he’s our ass and we love him.” 

“Yeah…” Steve says, glancing back at the kitchen. “We do.” 

***

Fin  

[merakilyy]

Lan Qiren Meta + Bonus Parenting Headcanons

Hi @chezaru​​! Tumblr is being weird and apparently I type too much for them to let me respond to the ask directly. The robot overlords are confusing idk. But anyway. Some disorganized thoughts on Lan Qiren!

(This is also an expansion of some of the thoughts I stated here.)

A lot of my thoughts on Lan Qiren come from this article breaking down what it means be be righteous (雅正) in accordance to the Lan Sect’s motto. The article is in Chinese so I’ll just sum up some of the major ideas first:

***

~It fundamentally refutes the idea of Lan Wangji as the “black sheep” in the Lan Sect 

~It assumes Cloud Recesses has a highly collective intrasect environment. Children are raised not just by the parents, but by the entire Sect. 

~The Elders raised Wangji and saw him grew up and didn’t have the heart to hurt Wangji, even after he escaped with Wei Wuxian into the cave. Western fandom especially tends to see the elders as strict, conservative disciplinarians who are rigid in their beliefs to the point of hypocrisy. This meta refutes that. It’s unreasonable that Wangji, no matter how strong his cultivation, would be able to stand on his own against 33 seasoned cultivators. So, contrary to popular belief, the elders allowed Wangji to injure them so they would not have to harm a child of the Sect.

~Lan Sect rules are not about what is literally written, but the spirit of the rules. This also makes sense given that when you have 4000+ rules, some rules are bound to contradict one another. And, many rules are quite vague. Eg. “sneering for no reason is prohibited.” Where is the line that justifies sneering? There is none because the idea is not “don’t sneer for no reason,” the idea is “don’t be unnecessarily rude.” In many of the rules, there is room for interpretation and it is this interpretation that is valued over the literal inscription of the rules. 

~Basically, they are not good people because of the rules. They are good people because they are good people. The rules guide them to make good judgement, but good judgement does not comes from following the rules to a T.

~So the function of 雅正 (to be righteous) is internal, not performative.

~It is this internal clarity that makes Gusu Lan “innocent” (the word used is 纯真; 纯/chun = pure, clarity, genuine, practised and 真/zhen = true, real, genuine, clear)

~There is also a long history of Lans being deviant and rebellious. In CQL, there is Lan Yi who invents guqin battle techniques. They are also the only Clan to have been led by a female cultivator. Even Qingheng-jun who is....consent issues galore. He clearly went against orthodoxy by marrying a murderer, but still remains in Cloud Recesses. His punishment is self-imposed, not enforced by the Sect. So there are a lot of rules, but they aren’t pedantic. There is leeway, as seen in Lan Yi, but only within reason, as demonstrated by Qingheng-jun.

~Like his ancestors, Wangji also deviated from the straightforward path but his sect accepted his unrepentant love for Wei Wuxian in the end.

~In the end, Wangji gets what he wants: to live with Wei Wuxian in Cloud Recess. But he only gets this because the elders and Lan Qiren allow him to.

~To allow Wei Wuxian to exist in Cloud Recesses, the Lan Sect has to be more inclusive than we typically see them as.

~Despite everything, Lan Wangji still wants to return to Cloud Recesses because it is home to him.

~This is also my favourite explanation of Jingyi’s Jingyi-ness. Rather than Wangji (and possibly Xichen) singlehandedly creating a space for Jingyi, that space already existed. I don’t think Jingyi is as much of a black sheep as people portray him as because you don’t grow into a Jingyi if everyone is constantly yelling at you to follow rules. CQL Jingyi is plenty sassy, even in front of Lan Qiren, and Jingyi isn’t stupid! He was born and raised in Cloud Recesses, he knows when he is pushing several of the rules and he knows that he has the leeway to do so, and that Lan Qiren will not stop him (within reason).

~”Be righteous” is how the Lan motto is translated in English, but it’s....not exactly what it is in Chinese.

~In Chinese, it’s  雅正.  雅/ya = elegance, graceful and 正/zheng = positive, correct, straight, just. 

~Notice how the two parts of the motto contrast one another. Ya is outward, something that dictates how you act. Zheng is internal, determined by your actions and attitudes. Zheng is the foundation of Ya.

~The meta ends with this beautiful line: 所谓的“雅正”，家族交出来，体雅是表象，心正才是更本。Now to ruin it in translation: “Each configuration of “righteousness,” as taught by the Sect, is outward physical elegance built on the foundation of a moral heart.”

~TLDR: Rebelliousness is a function of Gusu Lan, not an anomaly.

***

Onto some fun headcanons!

~Lan Qiren has personal issues with Wei Wuxian because of his mother, but he is more horrified by Wei Wuxian because Wei Wuxian has all this potential and then uses it to go down the heretial path?? Blaphemous. All that ability, all that work, only to throw it all away? Wei Wuxian is incredibly competent and Lan Qiren begrudgingly respects that competence. What he can’t stand is Wei Wuxian’s lackadaisical attitude towards his cultivation.

~In novel canon, Lan Qiren accepts Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s marriage. He definitely still has issues with Wei Wuxian for being a mass murderer, a demonic cultivator, for desecrating the dead, etc. Also for his general Wei Wuxian-ness. But Wei Wuxian is nothing is not incredibly competent and Lan Qiren eventually softens towards Wei Wuxian because of that competence. Once Wei Wuxian starts using that competence to be useful to the Sect and not just to be as annoying as possible, he gets Lan Qiren’s approval. 

~Secretly, of course. Lan Qiren would qi deviate before saying nice about Wei Wuxian to his face.

~I totally wrote a fic on Lan Qiren publicly defending Wei Wuxian heheh

~Cloud Recesses is only so big and Lan Qiren can’t avoid Wei Wuxian, even if he is never trying to seek him out. Plus, Wei Wuxian has this way of being in the most inconvenient place at the most inconvenient time.

~We all agree Wei Wuxian is a terrible cook. But, is he a bad cook because he adds too much spice, or he is a bad cook because he’s a bad cook? He did manage to cook congee for the ducklings in Yi Cheng without any fatalities. so I’m inclined to believe the former.

~Lan Qiren definitely thinks Wei Wuxian is a terrible cook, especially after hearing about how Wei Wuxian burned a hole in a pot.

~But Wei Wuxian is Wei Wuxian and even if he can’t be trusted with spices (or anything remotely resembling seasoning), he can make plain congee just fine. 

~Lan Qiren eats this congee and it’s a perfectly good congee. Ideal thickness, light taste, no spices, slides down the throat smoothly and pairs perfectly with his dried zhacai (pickled mustard; a super common Chinese side dish). He asks who made the congee, expecting it to be Sizhui. He chokes when he is told Wei Wuxian is the cook.

~Lan Qiren knows how to be a good parent in theory. He’s just terrible at putting it to practice.

~Jingyi’s parents, when he was still a terrible toddler wreaking havoc everywhere, went to Lan Qiren for desperate advice like “why is our child such a terrible Lan???”

~But Jingyi isn’t actually Lan Qiren’s kid so he actually gives good advice. “Give him a toy, he’ll tire himself out for his nap,” “Let him crawl around, just cover sharp objects and table corners,” and “give him a crushed peach as a reward for walking across the room”

~But he doesn’t know how to talk to Xichen or Wangji as family. He loves them both dearly -- obviously he raised them, but they’re also good nephews!! Questionable taste in men aside, they are excellent nephews! He just doesn’t know how to talk to them outside of official sect business.

~Especially with Wangji, He kind of did declare Wangji’s husband a heretic, a traitor, was unnecessarily cruel to Wei Wuxian, stopped Wangji from helping Wei Wuxian. And there’s that whole discipline whip thing.

~Which, to be fair, did end up saving Wangji’s life. Raising his sword against Sect Elders and one’s own family is an act of treason punishable by execution. But Lan Qiren can’t just execute his own nephew....he has a heart, even if no one believes it

~33 discipline lashes from the discipline whip is very harsh and Lan Qiren won’t pretend otherwise. But he could gamble that Wangji’s core is strong enough to pull him through. Because the odds of a living, resentful Wangji is better than a dead Wangji.

~They never talk about this. There are a lot of things they don’t talk about.

~Even before, Lan Qiren isn’t a bad parent. He just has no idea how to put his ideas of parenting into practice. He knows what a good parent looks like, he just doesn’t know how to be one.

~So he hides behind the rules because the rules can’t go that wrong, right? Right???

~Lan Qiren is lowkey jealous of Wei Wuxian for knowing how to be affectionate. He definitely thinks Wei Wuxian is too open with his emotions, but he is envious that Wei Wuxian and Wangji are open to each other in a way that Lan Qiren never established with either nephew. They are loyal in the filial manner of juniors to their elders, but Lan Qiren isn’t exactly close to his nephews. 

~In his ongoing attempt to be a better uncle, he ends up getting advice from Wei Wuxian about emotions.

~It’s not like he can go to anyone else. And, well. That congee was really good.

~Turns out Wei Wuxian can brew the perfect pot of tea, too.

~Offensive. That Wei Wuxian is so competent and the least emotionally repressed person in all of Cloud Recesses.

~Eventually, Lan Qiren begins to understand why Wangji is so attached to Wei Wuxian, even if he still can’t stand to be in the same room as Wei Wuxian for longer than 15 minutes. 

~No matter how much he might no longer hate Wei Wuxian, he prefers their interactions in small doses and spaced out.

~But he does learn to bond with Wei Wuxian over cultivation theory. Annoyingly, Wei Wuxian is just too useful to continue to despise. 

[cruelfeline]

1/? I honestly wonder how cruel Hordak's Horde really was/is. I do not in any way want to deny that they most likely have committed plenty of war crimes and inflicted lots of unnecessary violence, however some things always stood out to me, making me wonder if the Horde was really just plain evil. - First of all there is Scorpia. The Horde undeniably took over her kingdom with at least a considerable amount of force as shown in the short flashback shot.

Okay. Okay, I really hope I got those in the right order. I think you numbered the last two “9″ by accident, but I think I still got it! 

First, the obligatory disclaimer: yes, the Horde is evil and tried to conquer Etheria and people’s homes were destroyed and blah blah blah we get it. This is not a “the Horde did nothing wrong” post. There; it’s out of the way.

All right. Here we go!

The Horde as a Place of Acceptance + Weird Etherian Power Imbalances

I think one of the most interesting questions that we still don’t have a real answer for is exactly what you wonder: why did people originally join the Horde? If the Princess-ruled kingdoms are so free and wonderful, why did a bunch of people turn their backs on their kinsmen and follow an angry, bat-faced man from outer space?

The sort-of answer we get for this is first given through Adora’s eyes: there were lies and propaganda that essentially tricked her and the other kids into dedicating their lives to the Horde. This answer, however, doesn’t really work beyond the kids that we see. It doesn’t work for the countless adults in the Horde who, like Huntara, likely figured out what the Horde was actually doing but stayed anyway. It also sort of stops working as the show goes on, and characters like Lonnie and Friends get out into the field. I would assume that they’re conquering villages just like everyone else, and despite seeing that it’s civilians they’re terrorizing, they’re still proud and willing in their work.

So why? Why are they still okay with it? Why were the original Horde recruits okay with it? What in the world compels so many people to attack the cities and villages that their ancestors very likely came from?

I’m not sure we’ll get an answer to this. I don’t think it’s really the focus of the show, y’know? But that doesn’t mean that we can’t speculate!

My take on it? I would bet that, despite the rosy picture of Etherian life we are presented, there were plenty of people who weren’t pleased with how the Princesses ran things. Perhaps they didn’t like the idea of inherited power. Perhaps they objected to obeying someone just because they were born with fancy magical powers. Perhaps they were of different races, such as the reptilian people we see, and were thought of as inferior to the more human denizens of the planet. 

There certainly is an odd sort of power imbalance between different groups of Etherians. Humans rule over numerous other species, such as the goat/deer people. All Princesses appear to be human. Angella and co. in Bright Moon have excellent defenses and are able to access fairly advanced technology while we see other Etherians living in villages with markedly lower tech and, as you’ve noted, essentially no defenses. There seems to be a significant divide between Etherians, depending on who they are, in terms of technology and infrastructure. For example: the people of Thaymor looked happy and carefree, but they had zero defense against the Horde. If they were under Bright Moon’s protection, then why did they have literally nothing to save them? Why did they have such primitive infrastructure, no tech, and no military readiness? There’s a whole-ass war going on, and they’re in happy-festival mode with no defensive protocol, no protection at all. 

It’s possible that various people recognized the imbalance inherent to Princesses ruling things and decided Hordak’s military meritocracy was a better plan. It was more authoritarian, but everyone was looked after and provided for as long as they pulled their weight. And anyone could rise in rank through hard work alone, inherited magic or no.

Was the Horde Legit that Bad for Everyone?

An interesting thing to consider is how we, the audience, are introduced to life in the Horde, and whether or not that viewpoint is accurate to the whole Horde. We are introduced via Adora. We continue seeing Horde life through Catra. Very rarely do we see Horde life through anyone else’s eyes until later in the series, when we get some moments with Scorpia and Lonnie and Friends. 

The Horde as presented by Adora and Catra is an awful place: lies, backstabbing, propaganda, manipulation, Shadow Weaver. Even moments of levity in their youth are tainted by the terrible reality of what happened to them.

It’s only when we follow other characters that we get to see the Horde as less of a deceiving, manipulative cesspool and more as a pretty standard military operation. Scorpia and Lonnie and Friends were also raised in the Horde, but they don’t seem nearly as damaged by the ordeal and Adora and Catra. Mind you, that’s not to say that they’re entirely healthy, well-adjusted people. Scorpia, at the very least, obviously has some issues, but they’re not nearly as bad as what Adora and Catra have to contend with. In addition, these other characters appear to have a much more positive view of Horde values: they talk about teamwork and friendship and loyalty in legitimately wholesome ways, and they attribute their understanding of these things to Horde teachings.

My opinion on this? Adora and Catra are as messed up as they are because of Shadow Weaver. Not because of Hordak’s Etherian Horde.

While the Horde was hardly the ideal place to live, and while it legitimately raised children for war, it wasn’t quite as terrible for everyone as it was for Adora and Catra. Those girls suffered on another level specifically because Shadow Weaver took an interest in them and had great influence on their childhoods.

For everyone else, it appears that the Horde was an authoritarian, strict place to live, but it had reasonable rules and opportunities for recreation. It valued its members enough to allow them to refuse to fight without proper supplies. It taught positive lessons, even if it did so against a backdrop of war. It wasn’t “good,” persay, but it wasn’t monstrous.

Hordak Himself

To my eyes, Hordak doesn’t actually care much for ruling a place. He’s not into it. He doesn’t enjoy it. He’s into science and logistics. He does what he does because he has a pathological need for Prime’s approval, and conquering a world is how he understands said approval must be earned.

He’s otherwise pretty fair to his subjects: he outlines clear expectations, doesn’t punish unreasonably, and doesn’t appear to be particularly into more “classic” evil things, like torturing or wanton destruction or whatever.

I think that the more manipulative aspects of the Horde, things like the propaganda and all of what happened to Catra and Adora, are more Shadow Weaver’s doing than Hordak’s. He’s definitely authoritarian and stern, but he’s neither a sadist nor especially power-hungry. He doesn’t care specifically about being in charge; he cares about being valued by someone he highly respects. Mainly because he has severe trouble valuing himself.

In Conclusion

Is the Horde evil? If you’re a civilian Etherian who doesn’t want to belong to it, then yes. Yes, it is. If you’re Catra or Adora, the Horde has essentially ruined your life.

But it’s definitely a grey area when it comes to its other members. The members of the Horde are, as Frosta kindly reminded us in season four, just people. And they’re people who fight for their own reasons and make up a unique sort of Etherian culture of their own.

I think that a lot of what was truly awful about the Horde had less to do with Hordak and more to do with Shadow Weaver, specifically because much of that truly awful stuff was visited upon Catra and Adora. 

For everyone else, the Horde was a pretty standard military operation: it conquered, because Hordak needed it to conquer in order to attain his sense of self-worth, but it wasn’t especially evil about it. It treated its members pretty reasonably, given the context. In my opinion, it certainly could have been a lot worse.

How? By being Prime’s Horde. As I’m sure we’ll see in season five.

[tinfoiltemplar]

"Have we met before?" From Rudyard

Have we met before?

Have we met before?

Have we met before

Havewemetbeforehavewemetbeforehavewemetbeforehavewemetbefore

h a v e w e m e t b e f o r e ?

Victor blinked, feeling the question more than he heard it, echoing down into his blood and bones as if he had heard it before. Not in the “obvious question” sense, but rather as if someone desperately important had asked him that before and he just needed to remember. 

If only he could place it.

…

“Have we met before?”

The man wore a vest and a stiffly starched collar, the kind that had been popular before the war, though, he must have been very young then indeed. In truth, he didn’t look very old now. Not even twenty-five- but then, neither was Vernon. He’d been barely nineteen when the Austrian duke had been assassinated and the world had been thrown into chaos. Now, he was four years older and one leg lighter, limping through the slowly rebuilding world full of the ghosts of dead friends and the sound of machinegun fire.

When he heard those words these days, he always wondered if he’d met them across a trench, but while this man seemed familiar he was almost sure he’d never seen him before.

The dark man was staring at him over his parcels, waiting for an answer. and Vernon was rather wishing he hadn’t grabbed at him when he’d started to fall over when he’d found an unstable bit of street. Or that he’d let go of him now.

“No, I’m terribly sorry.” He flushed and straightened himself, centering himself on his wooden leg again so that he could separate himself from the stranger- but for some reason, he didn’t want to let go. “I didn’t mean to grab you.” At least he knew he didn’t need to explain himself, there were enough men like him about still coming home every day. At least Vernon didn’t have to wear the uniform anymore. “You didn’t drop your things, did you?”

…

“Have we met before?”

As a painter, Virgil was almost sure he was familiar with most of the faces in the duke’s household. He’d painted most of them, hidden in the backgrounds of portraits or as miniatures to keep himself in practice between commissioned work for the duke or new murals as they decorated the new palace. Virgil could say about his employer that he was a great curator of beautiful things, and as the painter stood in his blowing linen shirt he was never more sure of this than when he laid eyes on the new occultist.

He’d been hearing about Riordian all week, but it was difficult to know what to believe when everyone in the duke’s employ seemed to enjoy gossip as much as they clearly did. They’d made the man sound bitter and unreasonable, rude and a bit dull, but even from this short interaction, Virgil was quite sure that those rumors were wildly exaggerated. Riordan was tall and dark and very pale as befitted a man of the magical arts, and Virgil found himself wanting to beg him to sit for a portrait, and to ask him to take off his long coat, and to ask him about his life- if he had been to university like John Dee, or if he’d studied under a “white lady” at one of the boundaries of the world, and if he knew all the uses for dragon blood, and grave dirt, and ostrich feathers. Goodness, he wanted to know everything about him and do such horribly improper things with him behind closed doors.

“No, I’m quite sure we haven’t. But I hope we can rectify that situation- Virgil if you please. The duke is my patron.”

…

“Have we met before?”

He’d become an officer when it became clear that there was no way his father would ever accept him as a son otherwise. He’d put on the red coat, and agreed to fight for King George, and he’d been good at it. He could ride a horse, and position cannons, he knew how to lead men into battle and follow orders. He hadn’t expected that he’d find himself shipped a world away to the colonies in Boston, or that those same colonies would begin an uprising against the crown and he’d have to decide if he would support the men he’d sworn to fight with or the place he was starting to think of as home. He knew things were going badly here. He knew that people hated them. He didn’t blame them. The crown was taking advantage of their powerlessness, and as the war escalated it only grew worse. That was how he’d found himself quartered in a merchant’s house with the general, meeting the man’s grown son for the first time as he returned from a trading mission with dark teas and funerary herbs. 

He looked like the life didn’t agree with him. As if he would have thrived as a man allowed to run the shops here instead of accompanying the ships to the continent and back again and again. Valentine recognized the mixture of sunburn and paleness from time spent inside attending to correspondence or studying charts, the weariness of life never spent at rest, only between voyages. The salt on his skin. The confusion about the state of things since his return. In another life, Valentine mused that he seemed like the sort of man who’d have made a better historian than a merchant. Valentine would have liked to have had a chance to see a world like that, where men were allowed to have occupations that suited their passions. Perhaps this man was quite friendly when he was happy. He wanted to know.

“I’m afraid not.“ Valentine stood up straighter, bowing slightly to the man and wishing he could introduce himself to anyone under less uncomfortable circumstances these days. For some reason, he felt as if this strange man and himself could have been friends if things were different. Perhaps it would have made him a better man. “Major Valentine Trevor of his majesty’s army, under General ____, quartered on these premises upon orders of the King. At your service, of course, sir.”

…

“Have we met before?”

Vincent smiled, he had been about to ask the same question. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something about this man, this Rudolph... he was captivating. He had his own gravity, almost- that was the only way that the poet could think of it. Rudolph with the dark, serious eyes and the perfectly sharp shoulders. Rudolph in the black waistcoat and the silver watchchain, that everyman working formal tie. 

We loved with a love that was more than love.

Where had that thought come from?

“I think I would remember meeting someone such as yourself.” Vincent leaned forward, already comfortable with this stranger. “But by some sublime blessing, we’ve met now.”

...

“Have we met before?”

Victor frowned, resisting the urge to shake his husband a bit, reminding himself that the man had after all just hit his head, even if it hadn’t apparently been very hard. They were lucky he wasn’t injured, but he was also lucky that Victor wasn’t a cruel man when he was angry, because he certainly was now.

“That’s not funny, Rudyard.” He growled, pushing himself back to his feet and leaving his ‘joking’ husband and his fake amnesia on the ground. “Not even a little bit. And we’re never watching that movie again I don’t care how romantic it is!”

“Come into the house when you remember where the door is.”

[duncantom]

The consequence is, that the negroes, John Monroe and his mother, are still slaves, and a part of the estate of Elisha Brazealle.

When they were done, she said, “I have no wish to give offense, but I will not present myself naked to Hizdahr’s mother and sisters.”. The consequence is, that the negroes, John Monroe and his mother, are still slaves, and a part of the estate of Elisha Brazealle. They have not acquired a right to their freedom under the will; for, even if the clause in the will

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were sufficient for that purpose, their emancipation has not been consummated by an act of the legislature.. The huge brown eunuch yanked him up one-handed and shook him like a mastiff with a rat. “Enough, Belwas,” Dany called. You would travel to Meereen? Just wait a while, ser. The warrior witch Morna removed her weirwood mask just long enough to kiss his gloved hand and swear to be his man or his woman, whichever he preferred. And on and on and on.. Warriors, spearwives, raiders, they are frightened of those woods, of shadows moving through the trees. Some, surely. Let them look into their own hearts, and ask themselves if they would dare to be trusted with such a power. Do they not find in themselves temptations to be unjust to those who are inferiors and dependants? Do they not find themselves tempted to be irritable and provoked, when the service of their families is negligently performed? And, if they had the power to inflict cruel punishments, or to have them inflicted by sending the servant out to some place of correction, would they not be riduzione dvi hdmi amazontempted to use that liberty?. Rhodes (Jocelyn Norton Smith) Feel like you job is taking over your life? Have you lost the spark in your relationship? Having issues making decisions? It's time to get something to eat. Where Have All the Lightning Bugs Gone?By Louis E. Catron (Katie McKee) Two strangers meet and attempt to transcend their shyness and fear of rejection. It is time you did your duty.”. For centuries Meereen and her sister cities Yunkai and Astapor had been the linchpins of the slave trade, the place where Dothraki khals and the corsairs of the Basilisk Isles sold their captives and the rest

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of the world came to buy. Without slaves, Meereen had little to offer traders. Jon washed and dressed and left the armory, stopping in the yard outside just long enough to say a few words of encouragement to Hop-Robin and Emmett’s other charges. He declined Ty’s offer of a tail, as usual. To set the negro at liberty would deprive them of this last comfort; and accordingly no class of men advocate slavery with such frantic and unreasoning violence, or hate abolitionists with such demoniac hatred. And all those captains in my debt are falling over one another to take them there and leach a little gold from the coffers of the Golden Company. Our noble triarchs have pledged a dozen warships to the cause, to see the fleet safely as far as the Stepstones. There was scarcely anyone in the street but ourselves. He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. Rhaegal had been harder. She wrote that to-night everything would be decided, but what was to be decided I did not know. It was also strange that she had written yesterday but had only asked me to come this evening, and had fixed the hour-nine o’clock. More recently, the youngest of Lord Yronwood’s daughters had taken to following him about the castle. His face was very familiar. No true man killed with poison. At Moat Cailin the bog devils had loosed poisoned arrows at his men, but that was to

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be expected from such degraded creatures. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.. Lovejoy was the son of a Maine woman, a native of that state which, chanel ágynemű barren in all things else, is fruitful in noble sentiments and heroic deeds. All I know moustiquaire lit 1 personne ikea of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. You’ve been telling us, Alyosha, that during these last days you’ve been attracted by everything that’s honourable, fine and noble, and you have reproached me that among my friends there are no such attractions, nothing but cold common sense. catalog cercei aur turciaOnly imagine, to be attracted by everything lofty and fine, and, after what happened here on Tuesday, to neglect for four whole days the woman who, one would have thought, must be more precious to

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you than anything on earth. Why do we love and adore, beyond all things, our God? Why do we say to him, from our inmost

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souls, “Whom have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth I desire beside thee”? Is this a bought up worship?—is it a cringing and hollow subserviency, because he is great and rich and powerful, and we dare not do otherwise? His eyes are a flame of fire;—he reads the inmost soul, and will accept no such service. From our souls we adore and love him, because he is holy and just and good, and will not at all acquit the wicked. We love him because he is the father of the fatherless, the judge of the widow;—because he lifteth all who fall, and raiseth them that are bowed down. Jon found Slynt breaking his fast in the common room. Ser Alliser Thorne was with him, and several of their cronies. Bruin would listen to no terms which any of their friends could propose. The boy’s death would mean an empty place on the Kingsguard, and that might be her salvation. Tyrion

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had not mastered half of Groat’s old tricks, but he could ride the sow, fall off when he was meant to, roll, and pop back onto his feet. All of that proved well received. I walked from the throne room with my head high, though I did not know where I was going. At last this sentimental scene was over. We parted.

[highwarlockofarcher]

New story: A Doctor in the institute. chapter 1: Doctor who?

William Herondale stood atop the raised edge of Blackfriars Bridge, staring down at a swirling black mass of water below; thinking – in all honesty- about death. In the past three weeks six bodies – if they could be even described as bodies- had turned up in random points in the city. They had all had been skinned to the bone and left for someone to find. This led the police to believe that the bodies had been either dug up, or had been left to rot.

At first the London institute had brushed the first body off as a long dead mundane that had only just been discovered; after all the police, these days, were as useful as ten men absent. What really had drawn the shadowhunters to this case was that after two weeks there had been three new bodies that looked exactly the same. The confusing part was that when Will and his brother-in-law, Gabriel, began to dig deeper in to the investigation they found that there was no other cause of death other than aging and the obvious… well, death.

There was no mark on the bones, no bite marks, no sign of splintering on the skull, nothing. None of it made any sense. The only plausible explanation was… that there was no plausible explanation; but even that theory was flawed. It had been the bafflement of Scotland Yard and now the London institute were in over their heads too.

He’d been staring down at the river for a long time just waiting for anything at all to happen. Alas there had been nothing. Not that he’d known what he had been expecting but exactly nothing at all had been rather disappointing.

Behind him the city was punctuated by the clatter of carriages returning from functions and men’s clubs melding with the calls of the poor and dying. As a young boy- living in London with nobody but himself and the people he tried not to get too close to- the calls of those people shook him too his core. He had thought as an adult he would have learned to block it out, but he hadn’t. Their cries, if anything, got louder and more noticeable.

All of this made him wonder if the people who had died had been one of the people he had walked past in the streets; given money too when they had held their dying children close and whispered the only words of comfort they could without lying. He wondered now if he had made any difference to their lives. He supposed he would never know.

As he turned to get down from the edge of the bridge he caught sight of a figure in long parchment robes making their way towards him. Turning he jumped down on to the path bellow and walked the rest of the way towards the figure; plastering a grin on his face.

“You, my friend, are late” he said, placing a hand, pointedly, on his hip. He knew the figure like he knew his wife and son and was just as fond of him. Jem raised an eyebrow at him – something that was uncharacteristic of a silent brother. But then again Jem was no ordinary silent brother.

“I am sure you found a way to entertain yourself in my absence.”  Came the other man’s –almost emotionless - reply.

Will internally shivered as Jem’s familiar- yet strange- voice whispered in his mind. He still hadn’t gotten used to hearing his friend’s voice while watching as his mouth didn’t once open. Externally, however, his grin widened and leaned against the rails of the bridge with an air of serenity.

“By the angel, Brother Zachariah, did you just use sarcasm? I didn’t know silent brothers were capable of such a thing!” he watched as Jem lowered his eyebrow quickly, and schooling the amused expression that had crept up on him.

Will’s face dropped at that. Why had he said anything at all? Jem would never have noticed and Will would have had a few more minutes to see his Jem behind the dark façade of the bone city. He missed the other boy with such intensity it amounted to agony; to be without his parabati was agony. It was never –as the great writers say – a stab wound, but a million little tiny papercuts to his heart all day, every day. It may have been melodramatic and he may have to take the grief from others who didn’t understand, but he knew better than them. He felt it.

When James had first arrived at the institute Will had been- at worst- unreasonably cruel to him, and Jem- being his usual unaffected self- had laughed it off. To this day Will still didn’t understand how he could have just brushed what he’d said aside. Granted he had – even back then- always been able to read Will like a book, but anybody else would have recoiled like a scalded cat. Instead his former parabati called him an dreadful shot and suggested he let him train him. And that had been it; the day will had met his best friend, his brother, his soul, his parabati .

And for one shining moment everything was perfect… and then that moment ended. Jem had been severely ill – even then and as the years went on he only got worse. One day – as is always the way- he got as bad as you can get – without being dead. Jem had run out of his medication – namely his Yin Fen- and was deaerating fast. Will had been helpless through it all; something he was not used to being. In the end all he had been able to do was for fill his friends dying wish; which in the end hadn’t quite worked out the way he had intended. Even now it still kept Will up at night that he hadn’t been there for his friend when he had died and been born again as a brother of the silent city.

“You are troubled, old friend.” Said Jem, pulling him out of his train of thought. “ you are thinking of the bond.”

“don’t read my thoughts James” will snapped sharply, instantly regretting it as he saw the miniscule flinch that invaded Jem’s person. “I’m sorry” he sighed, in an attempt to amend his blunder. “ I know you cannot help it, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“no it is my fau-“ Will cut him off quickly with a shake of the head and his signature don’t argue with me on this James look. It was one of the few things that they had still been able to retain about their friendship and Will was glad.

Jem’s facial expression shifted ever so slightly to exasperation; which did make Will laugh. Sometimes Jem’s struggle to fully integrate himself into the role of Silent Brother made Will’s heart jolt painfully and bleed for the other boy; however most of the time he selfishly revelled in the fact that he was still able to arouse an emotion from him.

“Why do I get the distinct impression that you are stalling on me Mr. Herondale?”  There had been humour in his voice then – much to wills entertainment.

“James Carstairs, when have you ever known me, William Herondale, to stall?” Jem didn’t give Will the satisfaction of an answer, only stared at him blankly trough his closed eyes. “On second thought, refrain from answering that in any way.”

“Oh I fully intended too.” Said Jem. “Now why have you called upon the brother hood at this ungodly hour, shadowhunter?”

Will snorted at that; what a James thing to say. He turned gesturing for the other man to follow him. As they walked Will was acutely aware that, while he himself had used a silencing rune, Jem’s foot-steps left not a whisper of sound in their wake.

Out of all the differences between shadowhunter and silent brother, the solitude and silence, in which they lived their life, was what disturbed Will the most. Everything else was simply white noise.

Making their way to the end of the bridge Will filled his former parabati in on the investigation and Gabriel’s concerns that these resent deaths may have been demonic in origin.  All the while Jem stayed silent next to him. Only when Will was entirely finished did he speak.

“And you say there is no connection between any of the people?” he asked

“None what so ever; well, except that they all live in London.” Answered will, as they passed bishop’s gate. “It’s as I said there’s no reason for any of the poor buggers to have died, it’s why Gabriel reckons it’s all demon related.”

Jem turned his closed eyes to him in an almost quizzical expression. He needn’t have done it really; Will knew even when he’d asked Jem not to, the silent brother could still hear his thoughts, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

“but you do not think so?” Jem’s tone was almost curious, as if the idea of having to work with someone, other than those in the brotherhood, had brought back part of his humanity. Not that he had lost all that much of it.

Will sighed heavily, considering his answer for a minute. “The thing is, there is not enough evidence to suggest otherwise; but there also isn’t enough evidence to suggest it is either.” He scuffed his shoes against the dirt road they walked across; watching as the stones came loose of the earth under his feet.

“What do you mean by that?” Jem questioned further.

“Well, demons aren’t exactly the cleanest of beasts. They usually leave behind at least a trace of sulphur if nothing else.” The logic behind will’s theory was unquestionably sound; it was true that demons left behind some sign –some small trace – that the blood was on their own fangs. However it was increasingly possible that this was a demon the likes of which no shadowhunter had ever seen. The idea frightened him more than he would ever like to admit.

As they approached the top of white chapel, the gas lamps that lined the road side flickered ever so slightly in the gentle breeze that blew from the south. Will stopped for a moment as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There hadn’t been a wind all evening and if there had been it hadn’t been coming from the south. Something felt off about the street; not exactly bad, just off. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly.

Reaching instinctively for the seraph blade at his hip Will pulled it free from its clip. “Tabbris” he whispered and the adimas set ablaze. Jem – as he often did when he sensed Will’s discomfort- tensed and slid quietly into a fighting position; his staff in both hands ready to strike.

The air seemed to get slightly heavy, as if it was being pushed on and manipulated to fit a strange alien object. Will strained his ears, leaning forward ever so slightly. In the distance there was a wheezing, groaning sound that pressed in from all sides.  Will spun three sixty on the spot, surveying every possible opening and attack point. It wasn’t a noise either of them had heard before, which was never a good sign.

Out of the corner of his eye, to his left, Will saw a blue box; A blue box that wasn’t there a second ago. Both shadowhunter and silent brother swung, in perfect unison, towards it as the sound faded and the feeling left. A new feeling invaded Will’s senses now; one he knew all too well. It was the cold sense of battle that lingered across every inch of his skin and filled his bones.  Pointing his sword at the box he advanced slowly forward, gesturing for Jem to flank him on his right. As they advanced it became more and more apparent there was someone –rather than something- inside. Voices drifted from behind the door, barely audible but still there. The door rattled slightly before opening and a man emerged, walking backward.

“See Clara, like I promised nineteenth century London!” he exclaimed excitedly swinging his full body around in an exaggerated manner as he continued “still in the reign of queen Victoria and – ah. “ He cut himself off as he came very close to taking his -rather absurd- chin off on the edge of Will’s blade. The man was very odd looking from the front; not bad, just, odd. His clothes were a dark tweed three piece with a bow tie and a bowler had atop his head. His disposition was more childish than demonic but Will refused to back down just in case. Too many times had he been lured into false security by someone he thought was trust worthy and turned out to be a monster.

“What was that doct- oh!” Somebody else –presumably Clara- popped their head around the door, gazing out on to the scene. It was a young woman, about twenty four years old and roughly five foot three in height. She wore the typical Victorian attire but with an unusual air of someone who was not used to such constricting clothes. Both of them were out and out odd. Clara ventured further out, standing on the Doctor’s right; looking just as shocked as him as Jem raised his staff closer to her neck. “Doctor, I thought you said we were in the Victorian era?” she said none too discreetly as she tried in vain to stay still under Jem’s staff.

The doctor put a finger to his tongue and then held it up in the air. “We are.” He answered, sounding as though he wasn’t even convincing himself.

“then why,” asked Clara “are there people pointing glowing swords  at us?” To Will –as confused as he already was- it sounded like quite a good question; what threw him off however was the question about the date. Of course it was the nineteenth century, what other century could it have been?

“who are you?” he questioned them, sounding a lot more confident than he actually was. The doctor seemed to observe Will and Jem for a minute before a look of dawning realisation took over his features. In a strange jolting display of movement the Doctor smacked his own forehead and slipped past Wills sword.

“oh, yes, of course, your shadowhunters aren’t you? It’s okay Clara they’re only shadowhunters, see?” Will froze in surprise and the next thing he knew he’d been grabbed by the shoulders and air kissed on both sides. As the doctor disarmed Jem and gave him the same discerning greeting, Clara relaxed slightly and asked.

“uh, great! I think… Doctor what’s a shadowhunter?” this seemed to bring will back to reality a little bit as the doctor then went on to shake his free hand for no apparent reason. “Doctor!”

“yes! Shadowhunters, sorry.” He returned to Clara’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “shadowhunters are a race of beings descendent from a race called the angelis, not actual angels as you can imagine, but they are what the stories are based off of. Shadowhunters are half human half angelis and are on this earth to fight the demos, or as they call them demons, who come from a parallel pocket universe that’s slowly rotting away, all very interesting stuff.” Will looked at Jem now and saw that he was just as disturbed as he was. Hat this man was implying was that they were ignorant as to their own heritage. And to add injury to insult he had a feeling this Doctor was right.

It was Jem who recovered his voice first. His voice held no anger or fear; merely curiosity and even a hint of amusement. It appeared he had searched through the Doctor and Clara’s minds and found nothing too threatening.

“Excuse us we didn’t mean to startle you.”  Jem spoke in all of their minds. “I am Brother Zachariah and this is my companion for this evening, Mr William Herondale.”  the two strangers looked Jem up and down and smiled.

“well that’s alright, no harm done. I’m the Doctor and this is my friend Miss Clara Oswald.” Replied the odd man.”

“doctor?” The question burst out of Will like an explosion, there was something odd about this Doctor fellow; something not quite honest. He had the same look in his eyes as so many other veteran Will had seen in his time; it was the cold look of sadness and the knowledge of so much death and suffering. However there was also a childish quality to him, a curiosity to know more about the world and the people around him; he had the stars in his eyes. “Doctor Who?”