#so happy it's low-key canon after a certain fashion

[martianbugsbunny]

IK in Marvel you're nuts for shipping a gay couple unless it's confirmed without a shadow of a doubt onscreen (which is a horrible precedent I think was set when they said Stucky were just friends because let's be real if all that can add up to welp just friends then how can any ship with less than that possibly be legit, right) bUT all that being said the Lokius energy? great. I'm not going to pat Marvel on the back and say this is enough, but I am going to say that for them setting the same-sex heavily-implied love interest next to the opposite-sex are-we-going-to-pretend-this-never-happened love interest and making it unclear if Loki was speaking to one (or both) of them was a pretty big stride forward. They might be coming out of the era of the big neon no-homo, because the Marvel that's been so homophobic in recent years would never have left that door open for considering, would have made sure Mobius was far offscreen when that happened, would have made Sylvie the only important relationship Loki had in the season, would not have put in all the little moments (I direct you to the Don episode: the hair-fixing by Loki, the way Mobius kinda flirts with him the whole time, the way Loki is drawn to Mobius' timeline more than anyone else's, the way the camera focuses on Mobius so close to when Loki is having his "WHO" epiphany, etc.; not to mention the ways they reach out to each other throughout the season, just a little intimate touch here and there, a hand on an arm, an arm around a waist; the fact that when Loki timeslipped back he looked to where Mobius was first, the way he went to Mobius for advice when he was completely out of options, the way he and Mobius trust each other to use torture boxes and help decide the fate of the multiverse, the way they, together, were a focal point of the season, that they were a unit of two, that they were so loath to be separated). In media as a whole, is this big? Not really. For Marvel specifically, in its own little pocket context? Big step. Immense. I really want to believe maybe they're opening the door for us and we just jam our foot in the gap hard enough they'll get the message that we're a fanbase to be reckoned with and that maybe they do want to spend the effort on us after all. I love Marvel. It was an important part of my childhood and I keep watching it now even though it's kind of a mixed bag. I want to be a part of it. I want the Lokius fanbase and the Sambucky fanbase to win where the Stucky fanbase was shut down. Those little moments were intentional and beautiful and I'm incredibly happy they exist. I want them to lead to something more.

[vickyvicarious]

So I know not everyone likes the timeline of 'Toby teaches Eliot to cook before he joins Moreau' - and I get that, I do. It feels much smoother if Eliot falls all the way down first, before crawling back out of that hole. However, I can also see a lot of appeal in the other direction. Eliot achieving some amount of peace/balance, and then immediately putting his skills at the disposal of a monster. His coping methods are already in place, which is good because he needs to have them when he leaves, but bad because he'd already had his "I can provide as well as destroy" realization but then went on to just destroy more and more anyway. Backsliding into easy violence even worse than before, until he finally course-corrects to something more neutral and then to actually doing good with Leverage.

...Anyway, if we're going with the canon timeline, Eliot was already into cooking before he started working with Moreau. Eliot cooks for those he loves. Eliot, in whatever fashion, loved Damien Moreau for a while.

I'm thinking about that. About Eliot feeding Moreau. Making the choice to do so, to cook things for him despite Moreau having the ability to get whatever he wants made for him pretty much whenever. The first time he gave him some homemade brownies and tried so hard to play it off but was so happy when Moreau openly enjoyed them. How it became more and more common. The first time Moreau called Eliot over first thing in the morning for what Eliot thought was just an urgent job, but was actually just because he was craving an omelet and likes the way Eliot makes them best. What if sometimes he asks Eliot to cook for him because he's in a place where he doesn't trust anyone else's food, but he does trust Eliot.

Eliot knowing Moreau's allergies! God, and thinking about using that knowledge to his advantage when he realizes what a monster the man is, but unable to do it. Maybe he kept cooking for Moreau right up until the day he vanished, but he ate less and less himself, just felt sick to his stomach. Maybe he stopped cooking for him, and it was an early warning sign of where his mind was so that when Eliot vanished Moreau wasn't even surprised, but let him go since he thought Eliot needed some time away and would be back anyway. Maybe there was no build to it at all, because Eliot was in such deep denial about how he felt about all this, so the last time he actually saw Moreau was when they ate a meal he'd made together and both legitimately enjoyed themselves. Then Eliot went out on a job, broke, and left.

...and then, Eliot cooking for himself after leaving Moreau. How long did it take for him to stop instinctively adding more portions to certain dishes. Did he have any favorites that remind him too much of Moreau so he can't physically bring himself to eat them anymore. What about how long it takes him to cook for someone else after this? What happens if one of the Leverage team likes something exactly the same way Moreau did? They make a special request for Eliot to make them something that Moreau loved, and now he's in the kitchen low-key having a panic attack, trying to overwrite muscle memory to add that extra dash of spice or whatever, because he can't admit that he can't make this dish, that it just makes him picture Moreau.

It's fucking me up to think about.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Us Versus. Them (Rafe Cameron)

Author's Notes: This was an idea that was floating around in my head for a while, so I decided to write it. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment, I'm pending writing a second chapter - and please proceed with some caution, not an ideal relationship depicted. Thank you xoxo

Warnings: CANON RAFE. OBX 2 SPOILERS. Swearing, Violence,

Requested? Nope. Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

The air on the Coastal Venture was crisp, the mist in his face was refreshing after all that time feeling cooped up on that island. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the flat of his ring and twisted it as he took one more deep breath then turned on his heel. He walked quickly down the narrow halls and to the small room where they were staying, tossing a quick glare at the room his sister was currently sleeping in.

"Hey. You up?" He grumbled as he opened their door and walked into their small cabin. He looked at the woman just sitting in up in bed, her hands pushing through her hair.

"Yeah. Just woke up." She whispered as she pressed up on her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. She pushed some hair out of his eyes then ran her fingertips over his cheekbones.

"I'm going to go check on the Cross. I feel anxious. Get dressed. She'll be awake soon." Rafe muttered as he pressed his right hand to the small of her back, bringing her close as he kissed the side of her face.

"I'll come with you." She replied quickly getting out of bed and grabbing her discarded jeans from the floor, pulling them up her legs. She grabbed her dark jacket from the back of a nearby chair and followed him out of the room to see the treasure.

Down, down they went. Below all the hustle of the busy workers above. Rafe reached for her hand as he reached the level the Cross rested on. He helped her down the metal steps, then led her towards the box. He crouched down beside the box and lifted the top gently, sliding it away to reveal the golden Cross.

"There She is." Rafe mumbled as he pulled the blankets wrapping the Cross up for safety to show his girl their treasure.

"It's beautiful. Might be the most beautiful thing on this ship." She smiled as she crouched down beside him, her fingertips running over the delicate jewels encrusting the Cross.

"Second." Rafe replied as his eyes quickly looked over at her, then down at the Cross before he covered it back up. He looked over at her again, thankful for every sacrifice she had made to help him get to that point.

"Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. When this is over, I'm going to make you a Cameron. A real one." Rafe smiled as he reached out to place his palm gently on her cheek.

She smiled over at him, her blush warming his hand as she leaned over to kiss his lips. Rafe sighed contently through his nostrils and thumbed at her cheekbone. It felt like he had not been able to simply be with his girlfriend in so long.

"C'mon. We should get back upstairs." Rafe mumbled, his forehead pressed to hers. He stood up once more, taking her hand and pulling her upright to lead her back up the stairs where his family was waiting for them.

The door to the State Room was closed and locked, the way his father had intended. Rafe pulled out his key, smoothed his fingers over the teeth and gently placed it into the knob. As he unlocked the door and opened it slowly his sister came running from her spot from the cracked leather seat by the window, laying a firm punch to his broad chest.

"You knew! You helped him, and you knew! Fuck you, Rafe!" Sarah screamed as she punched his chest, one right after the other. Rafe stood in place, his eyes out the window at the passing ocean as he took each meager punch from his little sister.

"He asked me for my help." Rafe glared as he grabbed her wrists and pushed them towards her own chest.

"You're insane. The both of you. You and dad, you've lost your minds." Sarah cried as she ran her shaky fingers through her hair.

"We're aligned on a common goal, Sarah. And maybe...just fucking maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your Pogue shit you would understand that. This? All of this is for our family." Rafe growled his eyes narrowed at his sister as his hands gestured to his heart. His family. His heart.

"And her?" Sarah asked with a deep inhale as she looked from her brother's feverish eyes to the girl standing behind him, arms over her chest.

"Her? She's my family." Rafe grinned with a raised eyebrow. He looked behind him to his girl who looked his sister up then down, her lips pursed.

"Elise. Heard a lot about you, Sarah Cameron." The girl behind Rafe stated, taking a step forward to stand beside him.

"Wish I could say the same." Sarah glared as she sat back down, her legs feeling like they may give out beneath her any second.

"You're right, baby. She's not very nice." Elise mumbled as she looked up at Rafe.

Rafe breathed out a laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. He gave her backside a soft pat as he looked down into her eyes.

"Go check with the Captain, see how far away we are. I'll be right up. Take your knife with you, too." Rafe muttered as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, pulling her switchblade out of her back pocket to press it to the palm of her hand.

She nodded with a soft smile, happy he was always looking out for her even though she could handle herself. She turned on her heel, tossing Sarah Cameron a wink before she shut the door behind her and walked quickly down the halls towards the Captains deck. She clicked the latch of her switchblade, opening it, and dragged it along the old walls of the boat leaving an indent.

"What's the timeline?" She asked as she walked up to the top of the boat with the Captain, who flinched upon sight of the small woman. Something she never tired of seeing.

"Few hours, I think. As long as the weather holds." The Captain nodded, his eyes fixed forward and away from the girl that wielded the small switchblade at her side, the tip of the blade pressed into her thigh.

"Good. Make it happen." She replied as she turned to exit the small room, only to run into the strong chest of a man she didn't know. He smelled of dirt, sweat and ocean water.

"Arms length. You know the rules." She spat as she pressed the tip of her blade into the chest of the person who dared come close to her.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his head low and face covered by a mess of curls as he tried to hurry passed her below deck.

"Wait. You aren't part of the crew, are you?" Elise asked, knife extended towards the boy. He looked up at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes and her heart began to race as she recognized him.

Routledge.

"Summer program." John B stuttered as he backed down the steps from the top level of the boat, eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon to evade the girl.

"Get the fuck back here, Routledge! How did you get on this boat!" Elise cried as she took off with a sprint after him, scrambling down the steps.

"Oh, my God. She's fucking fast." John B mumbled as he hopped over tipped over barrels and scattered coils of rope to get to his destination.

A door on the opposite side of the ship that led to a hallway, where he was certain Sarah was being kept in one of the many rooms. He just had to find that room. He tripped over a coil of rope, but caught himself on the frame of a door, jiggling the handle to let himself in. He let out a heavy breath as he slammed the door behind him and ran through the narrow halls, screaming her name.

"Sarah!" He slammed his fist on each door his passed in the hopes her beautiful face, and that long golden hair would pop out.

She never did.

So John B kept running. He kept running and he kept yelling in the hopes that she would hear him. But the small girl with the knife wasn't far behind him.

"Rafe!" Elise yelled as she ran through the hallways, John B evading her quickly as he made a quick left turn.

Rafe perked up at the sound of his name, but his heart began to race as the tone of her voice. It didn't sound good. He had simply sent her off to get an arrival window so they could get off this boat and safely house the Cross. He clenched his fist as he stood up from his spot in an old chair in the State Room and walked quickly to the door, tossing a glare back at his sister.

"Stay here." Rafe growled at Sarah as he unlocked the door and stalked out to the hallway, locking the door behind him once more.

Rafe spotted his love in the hallway looking frantic, and that wasn't a headspace she was usually in. She was calm, collected. She was his rock most of the time and he didn't like the look on her face as he checked the lock behind him.

"Pogues are here."

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting

@beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864

@maybankslut

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo (next chapter would have...a lot of violence, it's just a matter of writing that out, finding that angle)

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Cyberpunk!HypMic

This is an extension of the cyberpunk outfits from this AU.

Originally, these outfits did not have their own universe to exist in - they were just made to fit a theme - but it just so happens HypMic already has a lot of the components required for cyberpunk...(but yikes, this is the densest AU - in terms of worldbuilding - I've had yet...)

TDD, MCD, Kuujaku Posse and NB existed in the past, but not in the context of the DRB - they were just groups of unlikely friends with differing reputations that retroactively came to be known under popular monikers and they ended up accepting those names over time. After WW3 and Chuohku's take over, technology rapidly advanced but society as a whole was wrecked.

As a reminder, the base outfit in this world is a silver body suit which only exposes the head, hands and feet, with black combat boots and a black belt.

In this world, this outfit is typically issued by Chuohku via people like Ramuda, although as you can tell by the outfits given in the magical boy AU, what you put on top of the base outfit can vary wildly. The boots and the belt can be swapped with something else without any trouble - the only thing that can get you into trouble with the authorities is ditching the suit. The body suit is able to purify polluted air within a short distance of itself, but only for the user.

All suit users have an accent colour, typically found on places like the top edge of the boots and on buttons, and the accents glow faintly in the dark. The colours have been adjusted slightly from the magical boy AU to create better glow effects.

...For the outfits that aren't specified, known from the magical boy AU or the same as canon in cases where the character does not rely on the suit, I'll leave them to your imagination, dear readers.

BB:

A team of brothers and odd jobs workers who navigate the digital and the real world to help those in need.

Ichiro: The owner of Odd Jobs Yamada. Prone to poking around with the latest in virtual reality, as well as illegal or semi-legal cybernetics. Resents Samatoki because he interferes with the Yamadas' business often enough to be a nuisance. Accent colour: Bright red.

Jiro: A delinquent and the more physical member of Odd Jobs Yamada (i.e. instead of trying to shut down bad guys using digital trickery, he's more likely to punch them instead). Was going to high school before circumstances shut schools down. Accent colour: Bright (royal) blue.

Saburo: A genius hacker. Was going to middle school before circumstances shut schools down. Accent colour: Bright yellow.

MTC:

An ad hoc crew who, in this world, have much weaker relationships than they do in canon.

Samatoki: A yakuza second-in-command, currently in possession of a strange black cybernetic glove which covers his right arm from the hand up to the elbow. The glove is able to control the air purification feature of the suits, so it's a particularly nasty bit of contraband. Resents Ichiro because Ichiro made a prototype of the glove and that was the last chance Samatoki had of convincing Nemu not to join Chuohku, but she joined them anyway. Also came into possession of an humanoid mecha, via Riou, which became the base of the new Yotsutsuji. Wears his TDD jacket over his shoulders. Accent colour: Indigo.

(Nemu: Currently with Chuohku to improve the world from within the government. Sent the completed glove to her brother because she knew he would keep it safe. Accent colour: Magenta (aka "Chuohku pink").)

Jyuto: A corrupt cop, currently investigating the glove in Samatoki's possession. More overworked than his canon counterpart...Even his trademark glasses have been digitised - they have a small antenna on the left side and can display information on the lenses when Jyuto gives them a mental signal (the display is in his accent colour). Accent colour: Maroon.

Riou: A former navyman who lives in nature, despite it being irreparably wrecked, and would rather not deal with the digital world, considering he's a cyborg (this is how he gets around not having the suit - he was experimented on in Chuohku's pursuit of creating a new supersoldier). Gave Samatoki an ancient industrial military-grade humanoid mecha which is about as tall as he (Samatoki) is.

FP:

Gentaro doesn't know Ramuda and Dice in this world.

Ramuda: A fashion designer who hands out government-mandated suits (for a small fee) while trying to ask out as many ladies as possible. Also sells other items to go with the suits, as would be expected of a typical fashion designer. His allegiance to Chuohku is a lot clearer in this world, but he's not a clone in this - just a normal human with hair dyed pink. Accent colour: Light orange (as per the magical boy AU).

Gentaro: A writer who makes his stories "real" via virtual reality and partnerships with others, such as Odd Jobs Yamada. Has material in some of his stories which he can use to blackmail Chuohku with. Hides his suit under traditional Japanese clothes. Accent colour: Bright purple.

Dice: Officially, he's a gambler who gambles with digital money and can't afford the suit. (Ramuda is not only something like a debt collector to him, he's also Dice's minder and enabler of sorts.) Unofficially, he's the son of Otome, the leader of Chuohku, who, when he was disowned by his family, lost access to the suits. As a result, he occasionally struggles to breathe and has to be helped by someone every so often. (Maybe if Hitoya or Jakurai met him in this world, Dice would be properly saved...?)

MTR:

Jakurai: A doctor, albeit one who prefers to use old-fashioned (that's "modern" to us) methods where possible. Chuohku believes gathering data from his brainwaves is necessary for the progress of developing new medical technology (or so they say...), so he wears a strange device which loops around the back half of his head and sits over his hair, attached to his head by two round (glowing) suction cups just above his ears. Wears his doctor's coat over the suit. Acts as Doppo and Hifumi's therapist and/or meditates in his spare time. Accent colour: Cyan.

Yotsutsuji: Currently in a coma after Chuohku's experiments for new supersoldiers. With the help of the former TDD, Jakurai has placed what could be salvaged of Yotsutsuji's consciousness into a humanoid mecha.

Hifumi: The no. 1 host of Fragrance. Uses virtual reality, projection mapping and other technologies to create entertainment for his clients. Afraid of women, but rather than his jacket, in this world he uses the same technology that aids him in his work to escape them. Accent colour: Neon green.

Doppo: A salaryman with appallingly low pay, no matter how hard he works, due to the fact technology is advanced enough in this world to give him a run for his money...He's lucky he has Jakurai and Hifumi to keep him sane... Accent colour: Teal.

DH:

Rei knows about Sasara and Rosho in this world, but they don't know about him.

Sasara: A comedian, currently under the heel of Chuohku. To this end, there are only certain kinds of jokes he's allowed to say while performing in public, although Sasara tries to get around this as much as he can when he can and secretly wishes to tear down the system with the former TDD + MCD so he can say what he likes again. Remotely communicates with Rosho via a visor and wears a leather jacket similar to Samatoki's TDD jacket in memory of MCD. Accent colour: Bright pink (as per the magical boy AU).

Rosho: A teacher, who lost his job when the school system broke down. He relies on Sasara to provide his basic necessities, but also takes occasional jobs to teach children in small groups or one-on-one, even teaching them comedy skills if he deems it necessary for them to survive in this wartorn world. Remotely communicates with Sasara via a display built into his glasses (which he otherwise wears purely for cosmetic reasons). Accent colour: Purple.

Rei: The creator of various technologies and creations prior to the war, most notably the ubiquitous suits. Currently gathering Jakurai's brainwave data for his own purposes. Has a strange relationship with the upper management of Chuohku, particularly Otome. Instead of sunglasses, he wears a (purely cosmetic) sniper's monocle over his left eye. Accent colour: Orange.

BAT:

Kuko: Back to being a delinquent, after people stopped believing in religion in exchange for technology. However, he still holds on to his beliefs, with the idea that one day, he can bring Buddhism back to a world that needs something to believe in. To this end, he uses virtual reality to recreate the pre-war world as he remembers it. Wears a teal happi coat over his suit and his prayer beads dangle out of his pocket. Accent colour: Mint green. Also known to commonly ditch the government-mandated suit for a particular respirator system created by Hitoya, which has a mess of wires going from the back of his head and going to either his neck or his shoulders (it looks similar to how the robot from the cover art of In My Mind's Axwell Mix has it) - this is due to the fact it looks intimidating and cool, yet it can be a pain to move around with at times.

Jyushi: A visual kei musician who enhances his shows with virtual reality, projection mapping and so on. People get confused when they involve Amanda "coming to life", but they roll with it anyway. Accent colour: Gold (essentially, a darker yellow than Saburo's).

Hitoya: A former lawyer, whose services are no longer needed now that the rules of society the law should operate in do not apply. This freed up his time to pursue his own interests, including creating portable respirator technology which Kuko and Jyushi try out for him (he does this with some help from some connections in the medical field, including Jakurai).

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Fractured Ice - Ch. 6/7

Xue Yang whisks a nihilistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen.

Chang Ping ducks his head slightly. “Of course, my good daozhang. Anything for you.”

“Anything other than putting that crazed monster in the ground, you mean.” Chang Ping blinks, his watery pink-rimmed eyes bulging even farther out of his head.

“I beg your pardon, daozhang?”

“Xue Yang. You let him go.”

XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M - Read on AO3! Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3  Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 7

A bit of blood in this chapter - brief violence onscreen and a brief graphic aftermath

Ch. 6: meaner than my demons

“I need to make sure it’s truly him,” says Lan Xichen. He stares at the spirit-trapping pouch clutched in his hand. Everything is blurred but the small brown pouch, which stands out starkly in the flickering orange torchlight. “I need to—to—”

“If he’s not in there, he’ll never be, and we have to get out of here.” Xue Yang shoves the heavy stone lid back onto the sarcophagus and steers Lan Xichen out of the tomb. The rain has stopped, and the morning star twinkles brightly through a gap in the clouds. “Fun as this is, we can’t hang around here. Those guards—”

Lan Xichen doesn’t spare a glance at the Nie guards, still lying strewn around the tomb. He’s too absorbed by the spirit-trapping pouch in his hand.

The pouch is warm. Almost pulsing. The throbbing warmth seeps into his cold hands, into his veins, flooding his numbed body with pleasant heat—

“Stop here.” Xue Yang lays a hand on Lan Xichen’s arm when he doesn’t look up. “We’ll change into dry clothes, and then you can try playing Inquiry. I’ll hold him while you change.”

Lan Xichen reluctantly surrenders the spirit-trapping pouch to Xue Yang, who sits on a boulder with the pouch set carefully on his lap, both hands cupped around it to make sure it doesn’t fall. Lan Xichen transforms back into Lan Huan in record time, throwing his hair up in a sloppy knot. Then, upon reflection, he takes the time to do it up properly out of respect for the little brown pouch on Xue Yang’s lap.

He sits cross-legged on the rocky ground as Xue Yang changes. Takes out his guqin, gently plucks a few strings.

The answer is clear, a thousand times stronger than Xiao Xingchen’s agonized murmur:

Meng Yao.

A glowing warmth suffuses Lan Xichen. Meng Yao. He’s always thought of A-Yao by that name, even after he’d received his courtesy name and title. Simple Meng Yao, the man who had risked everything to shelter him when he had nothing. Not Jin Guangyao, not Lianfang-zun, but his Meng Yao, his A-Yao, soft and welcoming and warm and bashful and giving.

And then, I didn’t think you would come for me.

Of course I came for you , he responds, then puts away his guqin out of fear of what A-Yao would respond to that.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been sitting like that, eyes closed, one hand on the guqin, the other on the pouch, until Xue Yang touches his shoulder.

“Sun’s up, Zewu-jun,” he says. “We need to put distance between us and Qinghe. Can’t bring your friend back if we’re getting dragged back to Gusu by a dozen Nie meatheads.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t bother asking where they’re going. Xue Yang’s plan has worked so far. He just follows the delinquent cultivator through the mountains. Practically floats. It’s a different kind of drifting than before, though.

He examines the sensation. It takes a while before he finally realizes that it’s happiness, of a sort.

Rule 70: Do not be overly happy.

He laughs to himself. Xue Yang shoots him a curious look but doesn’t say anything. Uncharacteristically quiet, his friend seems to be lost in his own thoughts.

They meet several Lan cultivators on the road, obviously searching for someone, but they don’t recognize Lan Xichen and Xue Yang in their peasant getups.

“They’d never imagine the great Zewu-jun, fashion icon to thousands, would stoop to this ,” says Xue Yang, flicking a finger at Lan Xichen’s ragged tunic and trousers. They’re sitting in a roadside inn, not as much as a hellhole as they would have preferred, but so far no cultivators have entered. “I do wish you were a bit shorter, though, and still had your beard. Do you think the Lans roped the Nie beefeaters in on their hunt, after all?”

“For you, perhaps, but my uncle would never allow a whisper of my defection to leave the Cloud Recesses. They're probably simply affronted by our attack on the tomb's guards, with you getting the brunt of the blame.”

Xue Yang jerks a thumb in the direction of the qiankun pouch inside Lan Xichen’s tunic. By Xue Yang’s suggestion, he’s stashed the spirit-trapping pouch safely away in the qiankun bag. “Just remember, if I go down, so does he.”

Lan Xichen frowns. “I wouldn’t abandon you.”

“Good. Remember that I have the knowledge you need.”

Lan Xichen puts down his cup of what might be actual tea this time. “I wouldn’t abandon you, whether or not that were the case.”

Xue Yang sneers. “Is that a Lan Clan rule?”

Various elements of loyalty, fidelity, and gratitude are encompassed by a good five dozen rules, but Lan Xichen chooses to ignore that. “It’s my rule. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

Xue Yang shrugs, idly picks up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks, examines it as if looking for bugs. “At least not until my usefulness runs out.”

“Xue Yang—”

Xue Yang shrugs again. “Don’t worry, my friend: I will make myself indispensable for as long as possible.”

Lan Xichen wonders just how strong the wine was. Xue Yang doesn’t speak for the rest of the meal.

Despite getting no sleep the night before, Lan Xichen lies awake a long time that night. He can stay awake for days by drawing on his golden core, but he doesn’t need to tonight. His heart is beating too fast for idle slumber , mind racing.

He takes A-Yao’s spirit-trapping out of his qiankun pouch and sets it on the bed beside him at eye-level. Traces the bloody symbols with his finger. Strokes the soft black tassels.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice catches in his throat. “I never should have doubted you. I’ll bring you back. I swear I’ll bring you back…”

* * *

“Where are we going, exactly?” he finally asks Xue Yang on the fourth day. They’re walking through the trees near the main road, keeping out of sight.

“Yueyang. We’ll arrive tomorrow.”

“Yueyang?” Something faint stirs in his memory. “Isn’t that where the Chang Clan lives?”

Xue Yang bows with exaggerated deference. “Zewu-jun is wise indeed.”

Lan Xichen smiles. “Why are we going there?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“…and?” Dealing with Xue Yang can be maddening sometimes. His flair for the dramatic and love of bantering is at complete odds with how Lan Xichen was taught to hold a conversation.

“You’ll find out once we’re there…” He makes a face when Lan Xichen raises his eyebrows. “All right, we’re going to pay Chang Ping a visit. He has something we want.”

“Something to bring Jin Guangyao back?”

“Wise. Most wise.”

“What about your…friend?”

Xue Yang unconsciously touches his qiankun sleeve. “We’ll get there, in time. But Jin Guangyao is the key.”

“You wouldn’t do anything that might harm Jin Guangyao—”

Xue Yang’s—Xiao Xingchen’s—fine black eyes are large and deer-like. “Zewu-jun—” He stops, as if too taken aback to respond. Instead he shakes his head. “Jin Guangyao’s spirit is whole,” he explains. “Xiao Xingchen’s spirit was shattered. Different methods are needed. Your friend was immersed in demonic cultivation towards the end of this life, and had access to books he didn’t let me near.”

“You think he hid those books?”

“No, but he remembered everything he saw, and I’m certain he knows something that can help Xiao Xingchen.”

Lan Xichen wants to tell him that this is a fragile hook to be hanging his hopes on, but doesn’t dare point that out to him and let it snap. The important thing is that Xue Yang is helping him get A-Yao back. And, he tells himself, he’s not taking advantage of the delinquent cultivator. Once he has A-Yao back, he, Lan Xichen, will do everything in his power to help return Xiao Xingchen to Xue Yang. From everything he’s ever heard about the rogue cultivator, Xiao Xingchen deserves a second chance at life.

“How exactly did it happen, anyway?” Xue Yang asks.

“Did what happen?” Lan Xichen is itching to get to an inn, take out the spirit-trapping pouch, tell A-Yao that they were close, so close to bringing him back—

“Jin Guangyao’s death, of course.”

It's like Xue Yang dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. Lan Xichen doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Xue Yang doubles back for him.

“His death?” Lan Xichen repeats.

“I need to know these things if we’re going to bring him back. The kind of death might affect the kind of spell we use, and besides, you don’t want me saying the wrong thing once he’s back, do you? I casually mention honey and find out he died after being stung to death by a horde of angry hornets—”

“You must already know what happened.” Lan Xichen finds that his feet are moving, but it’s as if someone outside him is making him walk, talk, breathe. He’s doubly desperate to sit down and take out A-Yao, but he and Xue Yang agreed not to handle the pouches unless within the safety of a locked room.

Xue Yang trots along beside him, voice low and sympathetic. “I know this is a painful subject, Zewu-jun, and believe me when I say I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but there are too many things that can go wrong.”

“He moved.” Lan Xichen’s voice is flat and toneless. “He moved.”

“Moved to…Koi Tower?”

“Moved. I told him not to move. I warned him. I told him not to move. I warned him. I warned him. Then—then that—that bastard —”

“Nie Huaisang?”

“—he told me A-Yao had moved. Made me think A-Yao was going to hurt me, and I—I believed him. Believed A-Yao would do me harm.” Lan Xichen’s voice is so thick he can barely push the words past his lips. “I stabbed him through the heart. Straight through the heart.”

“We ought to stop back in at Qinghe when we’re done,” says Xue Yang, “and take care of that fan-waving little plum blossom.”

“I told you, we’re not killing Nie Huaisang. Or anyone.”

Xue Yang tilts his head. “You mean anyone else .”

Lan Xichen has stopped walking again. “What do you mean?”

There’s something catlike about Xue Yang that he’s never noticed before, but his companion’s voice couldn’t be softer, couldn’t be gentler, almost as if he’s impersonating Xiao Xingchen again. “Nothing, Zewu-jun,” he says, bowing. “I was just thinking of Jin Guangyao. My apologies. It was uncalled for. ”

Lan Xichen doesn’t remember much after that, too focused on the thought of what is to come. They must have had a conversation about stopping, but he can’t recall it as he later lies on his cot, stroking A-Yao’s soft warm spirit-trapping pouch. Can’t recall eating the evening meal, or coming up the stairs, or taking off his tunic or shoes or letting his hair down, but he must have at some point.

He presses his forehead to the spirit-trapping pouch on the pillow beside him. Inside is A-Yao—Meng Yao. Not Jin Guangyao. Not Lianfang-zun.

Meng Yao.

Not the man he had stabbed through the heart with twelve inches of ice-cold steel, but Meng Yao.

It takes all of his strength to turn away from the pouch and roll over onto his back, limbs filled with mortar. Who is he fooling? No matter what name A-Yao went by, all four of them were the same person.

He had killed Meng Yao. Not Jin Guangyao, not Lianfang-zun. Meng Yao.

His Meng Yao.

He’d believed everyone’s slander, he’d believed A-Yao’s own words of self-reprobation, he’d believed that A-Yao—A-Yao!—could have ever meant him harm.

“But never have I ever thought about doing you harm!”

He dreams that night of floating, not quite flying. Floating over a river of blood streaming from his sword, with A-Yao’s hat bobbing in the current.

He wakes up numb. Dresses, fixes his hair with nerveless fingers. Gets a shave. Is too nervous to eat. Doesn’t hear a word Xue Yang says as they leave the inn and head down the road towards the Chang Manor.

“I’ve been thinking,” says Xue Yang. “—Zewu-jun? Are you listening?”

With a tremendous effort, Lan Xichen turns his attention towards Xue Yang.

“I’ve been wondering if you should dress in your Zewu-jun getup, or not. I figure that—”

“Yes.”

“Yes—?”

Lan Xichen doesn’t know how to explain that he wants to look presentable for A-Yao. He remembers how Xue Yang had put on his best clothes for Inquiry at the Cloud Recesses and hopes he’ll figure it out on his own.

Xue Yang smiles. “I understand. But on the off-chance something goes wrong, we don’t want it known that Zewu-jun was there.”

A surge of desperation. “I won’t wear my ribbon or give my real name. Although—you’re only getting in on the strength of Xiao Xingchen’s name, and the people after us know we’re traveling together.”

Xue Yang sighs. “I suppose they would have figured we came this way sooner or later, after tonight.”

“Is whatever you're planning absolutely necessary? If it will give us away…”

An odd look creeps over Xue Yang’s face. “It’s Chang Ping or nobody.” He turns away slightly. “Do what you want about your clothes.”

In the end, Lan Xichen puts on the best robes he brought, dressing while hidden in a copse of cypress trees up the road from the Chang Manor while Xue Yang puts on the green-and-white robes he arrived at the Cloud Recesses in.

They’re let into the manor soon after Xue Yang sends in Xiao Xingchen’s name. The grounds are dark and empty, very quiet and very still.

“Where is everyone?” Xue Yang asks the servant as they’re led through the courtyard into the discussion hall.

“The great Phoenix Mountain hunt, daozhang.”

The servant’s words pierce Lan Xichen’s numb shell. If Chang Ping isn’t here, their entire trip was for nothing—

“And, of course, Clan Leader Chang avoids Koi Tower as much as possible since that sickening miscarriage of justice,” says Xue Yang.

The servant ducks her head. Xue Yang winks at Lan Xichen.

He must have known Chang Ping would be mostly alone, thinks Lan Xichen, and he knows this should alarm him but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Please don’t tell anyone else about our visit,” Xue Yang tells the servant. “It is of a highly sensitive nature.”

“It’s just my husband and I right now, daozhang,” bows the servant. “Clan Leader Chang is not a fussy man.”

“Or a rich man,” says Xue Yang, glancing around the room after the servant hustles out. “This place was a lot nicer sixteen years ago.”

“What are you going to do to him, exactly?”

Xue Yang’s face is serene, but there’s something decidedly unquiet flickering in his eyes. “Nothing he doesn’t deserve.”

Lan Xichen winces. “Yes, but—”

Xue Yang unwinds the bandages covering his hand and rips off his glove with his teeth.

His left hand is a mass of scars, as if the original wounds that had once covered it had been badly infected at some point. The delicate bones along the back had healed all wrong, crooked and painful-looking. Worst of all is his little finger. It’s missing from the first joint, a ragged stump, looking as if—as if it had been bitten off with small weak teeth.

“He did this to you?”

Xue Yang is staring straight ahead. “I was seven.”

“Xue Yang, I’m—”

“Don’t.” He tugs his glove back on. “I don’t care about my hand anymore. But he’s the one responsible for Xiao Xingchen’s death—”

Chang Ping bustles in before Lan Xichen can ask questions. “Xiao Xingchen! I did not expect to see the daozhang again.” He makes ridiculously large gestures as he bows, sleeves flapping. He’s small and fat and, despite what the servant had said, quite fussy-looking. He has a rather unfortunate beard and mustache combination and reminds Lan Xichen of Wangji’s pet rabbits. “And—ah—Zewu-jun! What an unexpected honor!”

That’s right. Chang Ping tends to avoid Cultivation Conferences, but they’d met once before at Lotus Pier.

Chang Ping seats himself on his seat of office. His eyes dart to Lan Xichen’s face, observing the lack of forehead ribbon, but he’s too polite to ask about it. “What can your humble servant do for Zewu-jun and the esteemed daozhang?”

“Funny Clan Leader Chang should ask,” says Xue Yang, calm again. He bows low. His glove is still exposed, but he’s in full Xiao Xingchen mode, down to his posture and the way he holds his head. “There is something I need.”

Chang Ping ducks his head slightly. “Of course, my good daozhang. Anything for you.”

“Anything other than putting that crazed monster in the ground, you mean.”

Chang Ping blinks, his watery pink-rimmed eyes bulging even farther out of his head. “I beg your pardon, daozhang?”

“Xue Yang. You let him go.”

Chang Ping’s obsequious smile freezes on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

Lan Xichen senses something different in Xue Yang’s voice. It’s Xiao Xingchen’s voice—there’s not a trace of Xue Yang’s teasing, overly casual tones—but there’s a harshness to it belonging to neither Xue Yang or his usual Xiao Xingchen impression. A metallic tang, a brittle bitterness.

“You let Xue Yang go,” Xue Yang repeats. He’s slowly walking— gliding —back and forth in front of Chang Ping, a leopard stalking its prey. There’s a certain poise, a slight arch to his back, a grace to his step that Xue Yang perhaps intentionally lacks when he’s not Xiao Xingchen. “And do you know what that lowlife bastard did?”

Chang Ping licks his lips nervously. “Daozhang, you know I had no choice! My clan was in ruins; I needed the Jin Clan’s support—”

Shuanghua flies through the air, plunging deep into the chair cushion beside Chang Ping’s head. “ ‘No choice’?”

Chang Ping shrinks away from the blade. “I—I had a duty to my clan!”

“What clan? They were all dead! Wiped out by that maniac!”

“Not—not all—”

Xue Yang is up on the dais, retrieving Xiao Xingchen’s sword. At Chang Ping’s words, he grabs the clan leader by the collar and throws him down the dais’ steps, floating gracefully down after him like a flower petal on the breeze.

“Do you know what that monster did?” he repeats. His foot is on Chang Ping’s bulbous Adam’s apple. “Slaughtered my partner’s entire temple, blinded him for no reason other than his own petty revenge and amusement—”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I had a duty to my clan—”

Xue Yang stabs down with Shuanghua, skewering Chang Ping’s hand. “You wanted to be a clan leader—” He twists the blade, tearing the wound open, separating the bones in the back of the clan leader's hand.

Tears of pain stream down Chang Ping’s face. “I had to honor my father—”

“By setting free the man who exterminated his family?” Xue Yang walks around the quivering man, trailing the bloody sword tip over the stone floor with a scraping sound that sets Lan Xichen’s teeth on edge. “Not that he deserved your honor. Your father was as much a monster as Xue Yang. Chang Cian’s entire bloodline deserves to be wiped out!”

“Please! Please don’t! I did what I thought best—”

“You did what you thought best for you.” Xue Yang crouches before Chang Ping, grabs him by the throat and jerks the cowering clan leader’s head up so he’s forced to meet his eye. “You blinded my partner,” he says in a flat, toneless voice. “I gave him my own eyes, and then I met him , and because I couldn’t see I let him stay, and it’s all your fault— everything that happened; all your fault —”

Chang Ping’s face is a mask of fear and confusion. “I—I think you might have the wrong—”

“It’s all your fault, you and your whole tainted bloodline—”

Lan Xichen slips out of the room. He knows Chang Ping must be screaming, but Xue Yang obviously learned a silencing spell while at the Cloud Recesses, because Lan Xichen feels an energy barrier springing up around the room as soon as he exits and hears nothing.

The servant from earlier is waiting nearby.

“I need writing materials,” he tells her.

Bowing, she leads him to what appears to be Chang Ping’s study.

Lan Xichen settles down before the table. “Please go tell your husband to pack your bags. Return in ten minutes for the letter. Thank you.”

“Zewu-jun?”

“I discussed it with your master. Hurry!”

She hustles out.

Lan Xichen picks up the brush and removes a folded section of paper from the carved wooden stationary box on the desk.

The letter is ready when the servant returns with her husband and a little girl, traveling packs slung over their shoulders.

“Go straight to the Cloud Recesses in Gusu. Deliver this letter to the Chief Cultivator, and the Chief Cultivator only. This letter is for Lan Qiren, and Lan Qiren only. Take this as well.” He passes them a purse full of silver pieces. “Speak to nobody along the way. Now go!”

“With all due respect, Zewu-jun, we ought to see our master first—”

“If you do not go now,” Lan Xichen says, “you will never leave this place at all.”

He doesn’t think they quite pick up on what he means, but they hurry out. He follows them, making sure they leave, waiting outside the manor as they disappear up the road leading to Yueyang.

He remains on the side of the road for a bit, breathing in the crisp night air. The stars are particularly bright tonight, the moon full. He has a sudden urge to strip off his robes, stretch out middle of the road and bathe in the starlight. Be fresh and clean and glowing when A-Yao sees him again.

His heart beats faster at the thought.

A-Yao.

For reasons he can’t explain he feels suddenly like walking down the road, walking until his legs give out, walking off the edge of the world, leaving everything in this one behind, dissipating into a cloud of starlight.

Ridiculous. Just because he let Xue Yang execute a man who thoroughly deserved it is no reason to feel—feel unworthy of A-Yao’s return.

He turns quickly and heads back into the manor.

“A-Yao. A-Yao.” He repeats the name to himself, focusing on the word’s warmth on his lips. “A-Yao. A-Yao…”

“Not if you don’t get back in here.” Xue Yang is leaning against the door to the ancestral hall, himself again. “Where did you run off to?” He’s grinning broadly, eyes bright. Too bright. Shuanghua gleams in his hand, wet with blood. “The main event is about to begin.”

* * *

Chang Ping deserved it, Lan Xichen reminds himself. Over and over. Chang Ping deserved it. Chang Ping deserved it…

The clan leader’s naked body is hanging from ropes attached to a ceiling beam, a bucket set directly beneath his feet. The body is swaying slightly, as if Xue Yang gave it a playful push before going to wait for Lan Xichen. The corpse is a mass of pulpy red and oozing pink, exposed bone and ruptured fat and flayed muscle, an inhuman horror glistening wetly in the lamplight.

Chang Ping’s eyes are missing.

“Not bad, if I do say so myself.” Xue Yang is cleaning his blade with Chang Ping’s robes. “Considering how out of practice I am.”

“Did you have to—have to—”

“Give him the full experience?” Xue Yang laughs. His laugh is a bit too high and a bit too long. “I needed that resentful energy, my friend. Do you think I enjoyed torturing the good Chang Ping?”

Lan Xichen looks at Xue Yang’s left hand.

Xue Yang wags a finger at him. “What his father did to me had nothing to do with any of this. But believe me when I say he was just as guilty.”

“His father? I thought it was Chang Ping who…” Lan Xichen remembers what Xue Yang said about Chang Ping’s involvement in Xiao Xingchen’s death. “Never mind. What do you need the resentful energy for?”

Xue Yang points to the floor beneath the swinging corpse. Drawn in blood on the floor is a large, complicated array, with a new-looking spirit-trapping pouch near the bucket. “Three guesses. Now, I’ll be back in just a minute...Have you seen that servant woman?”

“I sent the servants away.”

The grin slips from Xue Yang’s face. “You what?”

“I sent them away.”

Xue Yang is staring fixedly at a spot just behind Lan Xichen. “And why did you do that? Pang of conscience?”

“I needed someone to deliver a letter to my brother. That’s all.”

“Suicide note?”

“Suicide is forbidden—”

Xue Yang jerks a thumb at the corpse. “So is murder.”

Lan Xichen swallows hard. “I could never do that to my family, or demean the gift of life given to me.”

Xue Yang keeps staring at that invisible spot, then bursts out laughing again. “We’ll get there eventually,” he says, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

Xue Yang pats his arm. “Not the suicide, my friend. Don’t worry. I want you whole and healthy. I’m talking about your sticking your nose in with the servants. It was my own fault. I thought you…ah, never mind. We have time. We have time.”

Lan Xichen moves out of arm-patting range. “Time for what?”

“Time to bring back your friend, of course .” Xue Yang sheaths Xiao Xingchen’s sword in the scabbard strapped to his back. “The pouch, please.”

“You mean—”

Xue Yang is grinning again. “I told you this would be worth it.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t remember him having said that, or given him any forewarning about what he’d done to Chang Ping, but he’s too nervous to think about it.

Xue Yang takes A-Yao’s spirit-trapping pouch from him delicately, holding it with as much care as if Xiao Xingchen himself had been inside the pouch. “Your hand.”

Lan Xichen extends his hand. Xue Yang uses his needlessly large knife to prick open the now-healed little wound he’d made back at the tomb, using his blood to create a number of talismans, which he hangs on Chang Ping’s body.

Then he picks up the new spirit-trapping pouch from the floor and takes a curved, palm-sized chunk of black-and-gray metal out of his sleeve. He grips it in the same hand as the new spirit-trapping pouch and A-Yao’s pouch, black smoke pouring off the metal piece and curling around the pouches.

Lan Xichen’s eyes widen. “That’s—”

Xue Yang puts a playful finger to his lips. “We know what it is.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. I don’t use it often enough to go the way of Wen Ruohan or Wei Wuxian. I don’t want to lose my mind any more than the next person wants me to.”

“But—”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

Lan Xichen ducks his head and steps back.

The black smoke twines around Xue Yang’s fingers. He sends the chunk of metal at the body, drawing a rapid-fire sequence of glowing red symbols in the air, then opens the new spirit-trapping pouch.

A blast of resentful energy escapes the bag, so potent that Lan Xichen is sent flying across the room. So Xue Yang had trapped Chang Ping’s resentful energy in the new pouch—

Xue Yang reaches for the metal, releasing a second burst of dark energy so powerful that Lan Xichen loses consciousness.

He awakens almost immediately. Sits up and looks around, heart beating wildly.

Xue Yang is kneeling before Chang Ping’s body, not in an act of contrition but as if using the…the chunk of metal had taken more out of him than expected.

But Lan Xichen barely notices him. His eyes are riveted on the naked, shivering figure lying curled up inside the array.

Lan Xichen rises, trembling, and takes a few shaky steps towards the small white figure.

“…A-Yao?”

Up Next: The final chapter! Things come to a head.

Or: The night sky sure is pretty and stars are cool.

Chapter 7

[extreme-technicality]

i read ur entire ninjago post and now im lowkey invested,,, tell me abt ur daughter rumi

*evil laughter* yesssss, join meeeeee~~~

OKAY BUT MY EVIL DAUGHTER RUMI THO

She has like, fairly good motivations for Being Evil (as far as evil backstories go), and honestly if the writers had LET HER LIVE it could’ve been SO interesting, but I’m getting ahead of myself lmao. She was orphaned off-screen at the end of s1, and got adopted by the Ninjago Royal Family shortly after (why does ninjago have a royal family? who fucking cares lmao). BUT, she grew up hating the ninja because she blames them for her parents deaths. And since Garmadon was the one who actually killed the thing that killed her parents, he’s the only acceptable parental substitute in her mind. Basically, this poor girl has a lot of unprocessed grief and trauma and is coping as best she can - well, ish. She was actively choosing to manipulate literally everyone around her and attempting to bring back Lord Garmadon in his most evil form in order to enact her vengeance against the ninja specifically, but some people do that to COPE

And when I say she was manipulating everyone, I mean she was manipulating EVERYONE. Her parents, the staff, the other ninja - she played Lloyd like a fiddle at the start of s8, and the first hint we got was when she and Lloyd were having their heart-to-heart in s8e2(? I think). They were bonding over the stresses of their positions as leaders and the various masks they’ve had to wear and lay down, and Rumi mentions she has to spend most of her days in a mask. On the first watch, I took it at pretty much face value - she’s a princess, there’s a certain image and reputation she has to maintain, the mask she has to wear, and yeah maybe she likes girls instead of guys and that’s one more thing hidden under a mask, yknow? But once you find out that she’s SPEARHEADING the evil organization working to resurrect Garmadon, THAT CONVERSATION HAS SO MUCH MORE DEPTH!!!!! Honestly, the Rumi reveal is the best ninjago twist (imo) because it’s ASTONISHINGLY well-written!! There’s a few signs in the episodes leading up to the reveal, but they’re so subtle that unless you knew what you were looking for you wouldn’t see them!!!!!!! AND THEN THE DELIGHT ON HER FACE WHEN SHE COULD FINALLY SHED THE LAST OF HER MASKS AND WORK TO BRING GARMADON BACK AND HATE THE NINJA, LLOYD INCLUDED, OPENLY??? ABSOLUTELY UNMATCHED, MY BOY LLOYD WAS GETTING HIS HEART SHATTERED AND I FELT FOR HIM BUT ALSO SHE BECAME MY DAUGHTER IN THAT MOMENT AND SHE STILL IS

Also, there’s a lot about masks in the season - the monologuing from Rumi, plus the macguffins of the arc are three Oni masks: the Mask of Delusion, the Mask of Rage, and the Mask of Vengeance. The moment Rumi unmasks herself is also the moment she takes the Mask of Vengeance for herself, and if I had more brain power I would ABSOLUTELY analyze the FUCK out of that symbolism but I CANT RIGHT NOW AND AAAAAAAAAA

anyway lmao

Another thing I really liked was that Lloyd pointed out that she had a support network available to her, if she wanted it - doubtless the Emperor and Empress of ninjago could’ve gotten her therapy, she was in a stable environment, there were a NUMBER of people who loved and wanted to help her, but she CHOSE to stay rooted in her pain and trauma. She still deserved help!! But her ACTIONS were the problem, because she CHOSE those willingly, and the narrative points that out.

Regardless, she brings Garmadon back and he’s evil and heartless and they’re a perfect pair, honestly, he adopts her in a fashion during s9 and honestly it’s kinda sweet. I CRAVE fics where she lived and disappeared with her gf and Garmadon after s10 and they kinda fuck off for a bit, healing and becoming a Family (that does crime together on the weekend but shhhh) until Lloyd and the other ninja find them and go “oh hey ur our family too now, deal with it 😎”. UN FUCKING FORTUNATELY, she died and I’m high key mad about it!!!! Picture this: Lloyd and Garmadon are having another city-destroying fight, and Rumi goes “fuck this shit I’m OUT” and dips. She’s going through a building and comes across a family going through the exact same situation that resulted in her parents dying and her path to vengeance. She opts to save that family, and she gets a fucking BUILDING collapsed on her in thanks!!!! BRO OKAY LIKE I GET THE SYMBOLISM THEY WERE GOING FOR, BREAK THE CYCLE AND END VENGEANCE OR WHATEVER, BUT IT WOULDVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE POWERFUL IF SHE HAD SAVED THE PARENTS, THAT LITTLE GIRL, AND HERSELF IN THE PROCESS!!!! SHE GETS THEM OUT, IT LOOKS LIKE SHE DIED, TURNS UP AT THE END OF THE SEASON AND GOES TO THERAPY, SURVIVES S10 AND THEN FUCKS OFF WITH GARMADON TO REMEMBER HOW TO BE A FAMILY!!!!! IM GOING FERAL THINKING ABOUT WHAT RUMI COULDVE BEEN BRO!!!! SHE WAS ALREADY SO GOOD AND THEN THEY JUST!!! DROPPED HER!!!!!!!!!! AND I DONT THINK IM EVER GONNA NOT BE MAD ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY EVIL DAUGHTER DESERVED BETTER AND I WILL NOT SHUT UP ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ESPECIALLY since just about every season after she dies, there’s SOME reference to how hurt Lloyd is that she’s gone, or how badly she fucked him up, and basically just dragging out that fake forced romance longer than it kinda should’ve been dragged out. Literally none of that matters!!!! Or, it does, but not NEARLY as much as Rumi’s squandered potential matters!!!! And honestly I just think it would’ve been a much better dynamic if Lloyd and Rumi had gone from “hey I thought we were dating but you tried to kill me” and “I hate your fucking guts and blame you for the deaths of my parents :)” to “siblings who irritate the CRAP out of each other but are low key ride-or-die”. Let them be SIBLINGS for fucks SAKE

Oh I didn’t really talk about her gf did I?? Well one of Rumi’s underlings is a punk biker named UltraViolet and like, none of it was TEXT, but Rumi and UltraViolet DEFINITELY had something going on. I choose to interpret it as evil lesbians because I think it’s what they deserve, but that’s just me lmao (and I’m right)

Ooh no WAIT, UltraViolet got yeeted to prison post-s9, and honestly if Rumi has lived I think she would’ve faced the same fate (still, she needs therapy at SOME point), so in my personal canon the first thing Garmadon does after fucking off post-s10 is he busts Rumi and UV out of jail and then they like. Idk. Travel or something. Discover the meaning of family. Go to therapy together (how many times can I say therapy in a single post??? Let’s Find Out). Fucking LIVE dude, I just want them to be HAPPY

[threewaysdivided]

I appreciate the response. Yeah, among other adjustments, had the plot been handled a little differently, I feel like Sam’s relationship with her parents could have evolved into something like that of Danny and Jazz and their parents. And don’t get me wrong; I still like Sam, too.

(In reference to this post and follow-up ask.)

Good to hear from you again 😊

I think there were a lot of things across the board that could have been tweaked or edited to improve the integrity of the series.  If I had to boil down the problem with DP to a single point I’d probably say it’s that the most interesting parts of the show are the characters/world/implications but the writers (or some of them anyway - I suspect there might have been some conflict between Hartman, the lead writers and the execs’) wanted certain plots, aesops and gags, and chose to brute-force them in regardless of whether they actually worked with what was already there.  Basically, it lacks consistency and internal logic.

For Sam in particular I think there are a few things that could have been handled better:

First one’s more a general complaint at the show and might light a fire under my notes but heck lets go there anyway but the writing has kind of a sexist bent that really doesn’t fit the characters or need to be there. Considering how much Danny and Jack are shown to love and respect Maddie and Jazz there’s no way they’d call their involvement in Genius Magazine “the swimsuit edition”.  Paulina might be traditionally feminine but “She surrendered her individuality for a boy! I’m so proud of her!” is not a line that any human girl in the history of human girls would say unironically.  There’s also a few too many jokes that basically boil down to “male character is emasculated/ vulnerable/ likes feminine-coded things, hyuk hyuk hyuk”.

I’m bringing this up not just because they’re gross cheap gags but because for Sam specifically, this pervasive low-key contempt for women and femininity in the writing, especially the tendency to portray almost every non-sympathetic girl her age as one-note, brainless boy-crazy cliches that she can’t connect with, really does not help her character.  I would have loved to see more genuine interaction between Sam and the other girls, even if it most of it was Kim Possible-Bonnie Rockwaller style antagonistic rapport.  We could have seen her develop some kind of tenuous connection with one of the A-listers, or even just have a secondary-female-character to be cordial towards - kind of like Mikey is for Danny and Tucker.  Hold up, outside of Valerie, Star and Paulina are there any named secondary girls at Casper High?  Sam doesn’t seem to have a single female friend in the show and considering how vocally judgemental she is, it can almost read like she’s rejecting them outright for being girls, which really undercuts attempts to make her seem feminist. (I mentioned it in a past tag but this feels like an early-2000s-male-writer mistake of equating Female Empowerment™ with the ability to tear down other women and belittle traditional femininity - which isn’t so much Feminism as it is Internalised Misogyny.)  Even just mixing up the pairings to put her with Star instead of Kwan in Lucky in Love would have helped.

I’d have also liked to see more awareness of and consistency in the conflict between her activism and her wealth.  It kind of undercuts the significance of her activism when you realise that she’s wealthy enough to make these choices with little cost to herself; it’s much easier to go vegan or buy renewable/ recyclable /sustainable /fair-trade when price isn’t an issue, especially if you also have serving staff to offset the time cost.  Once you notice this it makes her activism feel more tokenistic, and also like she doesn’t really understand her own privilege when she tries to push her agendas onto the school/ her classmates without considering why they mightn’t be able to do so as easily.  It’s also weird because the source of her family’s wealth is a cellophane-toothpick-wrapper (i.e. something that basically produces litter) but she still seems very comfortable enjoying the material benefits despite her pro-eco anti-consumerism sentiments.  It’s bizarre that she’s more concerned with the social consequence of ‘fake friends’ than the ethics of capitalism.  It can come off a bit “do as I say, not as I do”. 

It would have been nice for the show to give more screen time to reinforcing that Sam is aware of that conflict and is making an active effort to hold to her principles even at the cost of personal comfort; maybe showing some unease at the source of her wealth, trying to live below her means and only spend up on ethical/ eco-friendly/ sustainable products, op-shopping or hand-making her goth accessories, going out of her way to re-use or re-purpose things even if buying a new one would be ‘better’, actually showing or referencing her doing substantial hands-on activities (e.g. going off-screen or taking the boys to do tree-planting, litter pickups, soup kitchens, animal-shelter work etc).  Just something to help make it clearer that she genuinely cares and isn’t just doing the low-mess lip-service activities because she enjoys indulging in the image of Wokeness™.

These things would have helped regardless of how her family was written but let’s hop back on topic and talk about them.  I don’t have any prescriptive preference but let’s spitball a few different options and how they could have played:

#1 Sam’s parents don’t respect her interests and want her to fit a mold

In this case I’d make it that they don’t really pay attention or show much caring for who Sam really is as a person; their image of and interactions with her are more of a fantasised version of the ‘perfect’ daughter they want, they make very little effort to encourage her actual interests and are perhaps restrictive about what they let her do in the few moments when they do bother paying close attention (you might compare to some versions of Tim Drake’s Parents from DC Comics).  Classist, overly image-conscious, snobby and superficial.  

This would be the most sympathetic portrayal of her character without changing it very far from how it is in DP canon - helping contextualise why Sam is so fiercely defensive of her autonomy, why she pushes so hard when trying to get her opinions across and why she’s so judgemental of rich people and disdainful towards classic femininity - even possibly explaining her more hypocritical/ manipulative/ entitled traits as learned behaviours.  It would also give her more legitimate reason to be less empathetic towards others - after all even if they have struggles and family troubles it’s still better than what she’s dealing with (Danny’s parents may not be attentive but hey, at least they love him for himself, right?)

For this version I’d probably put her arc around growing past the “suffering olympics” model of viewing other people’s pain, but also in her finding family in Danny/Tucker/her Grandmother’s circle of connections, learning how to have healthy power-balance and communication in her relationships with others (aka: getting over her hypocrisy and realising that assertiveness is about communicating that “I matter, and so do you”) and pulling away from her parents’ influence - maybe even living with Ida a lot of the time.

#2 Sam’s parents are well-intentioned but overbearing

For this one, Sam’s parents would genuinely want the best for her… only they have an overly old-fashioned and restrictive view of what “the best” is and are a bit set-in-their-ways.  They’d probably view “hippies” and “goth” stuff as “dangerously rebellious hooligan-activities” and likely to be somewhat patronising about Sam’s passion for it being “just a phase”.   They’d be worried about her hanging around “the Fenton Kid” and “the Foley Kid” both because Danny’s parents are kind of irresponsible screwballs about safety but also because they put a lot of value in image due to their belief in social connections being the way to get ahead.  Them pushing Sam towards classic femininity and specific activities would be less about disrespecting her identity and more about their overly narrow view of “success” and worrying that she’s going to end up losing valuable opportunities and “wasting her life” if she keeps on down her current path.

This would still give Sam more sympathetic context for her views on femininity and pushiness about self-expression. 

Personally I think the arc I’d like to see here is one themed around responsible/considerate assertiveness and valuing alternative perspectives.  Sam coming to realise her own hypocrisy - that she can’t push her views onto others while complaining about her parents doing the same - developing more sympathy for Danny as she realises that he’s in a similar position with Jack’s insistence that he’ll inherent Fentonworks and his parents’ narrow-mindedness about ghosts, interacting with other girls and seeing their perspective, learning how to assert her opinion while making allowances for others’ (maybe an alternative version where she connects with Star in Lucky in Love and, after Aragon’s defeat in Beauty Marked, Sam still says she personally thinks it’s dumb but then steps down and lets Star win because she understands that Star values it), and getting her Grandma’s help in convincing her parents to widen their perspective while still responding to their concerns.

(This one has the overall kindest message and I think I like it best).

#3 Sam’s parents are trying and Sam’s actually the problem 

This one is the one that’s the least sympathetic to Sam.  Her parents still don’t get the Goth/Activist thing and they have some concerns about safety but they understand that it makes her happy and they’re okay with it so long as she’s not getting into trouble or mixing up with anyone that could hurt her.  Them pushing her towards more feminine/optimistic things is less pushing and more trying to encourage some hobbies that offer a bit more common ground.  They might have reservations, and they might not always have time, but they would like to be part of their daughter’s life… except for the problem that Sam has wrapped herself up in a teen-drama persecution complex and got it into her head that they “won’t accept her” are “pushing her to be someone else” and “don’t understand” so there’s no point even trying to explain or connect.  In this one Ida isn’t taking sides on purpose but she ends up accidentally enabling Sam a little because Sam reminds her of her younger days and she likes spoiling her granddaughter (and doesn’t much care for her daughter-in-law).

In this case Sam’s flaws would be framed much more as flaws born of her making superficial snap judgements, thinking she knows better and being too proud to admit she’s wrong.  There would definitely be moments of her coming across as an entitled, privileged holier-than-thou brat who invents problems because she likes feeling sorry for herself, especially early in her arc.

This version of the story would go the hardest on Sam with the general lesson being “you need to respect that other people are people who have their own problems, feelings and needs that are as real and valid as yours”.  She’d still have good qualities and Danny and Tucker would still obviously like and value her but there’d also be times of strain where they don’t want to hurt her feelings but are clearly getting worn out with the nonsense.  At its worst, maybe a “you’re like mustard. Great in small quantities, but a lot of you is…a lot” type confrontation.

I’d also give the secondary cast the most fleshing out, agency and sympathetic-ness here, and have beats where Sam has to realise that they’re lot more complex than her 2D stereotyped view of them and are dealing with actual serious problems to which hers are largely non-issues by comparison.  I’d probably play Dash and Paulina similar to in the fic Alibi (go read it, it’s good) - Dash being gay and performing aggression because toxic masculinity, insecurity, and being terrified of anyone outside the A-listers finding out (still not okay that he’s a bully but at least more understandable), while Paulina is hiding high emotional perceptiveness behind her pretty face and deliberately bearding for him to keep bigoted parents/ teachers off his back.  I’d also probably have a subplot in an alternate Life Lessons where Sam follows Valerie around because jealous/possessive and, like Danny, ends up realising that she’s working two jobs to help her Dad with their financial problems.  Basically she’d be getting hit with the Reality Stick a lot.

There’d also be more instances of Sam getting directly called out by the other girls. Fleshing them out as people and showing that their dislike is less superficiality and more because she unfairly judges and antagonises them all the time.  Giving them more agency in Beauty Marked and have them be direct about “we know you’re just here to be smug about how much ‘Better’ you are but have you considered that we’re doing this for ourselves and actually enjoy it?”.  Having Paulina be less “tee hee I am indeed a Witch” in Parental Bonding and more “Ugh fine, fine, I don’t really like him that much but you were being so obviously Jealous and Judge-y and I figured if I played a little you might actually step up.  But fine, if you’re sure.  Here’s your necklace back, I’ll let your dorky ‘friend’ down tomorrow.  But pro-tip?  You like someone you gotta go for it - otherwise don’t complain when your boy-toy gets taken by someone who actually means it.”  (Still petty, but emotionally intelligent pettiness, which… not really much better, but at least more interesting.)  A lot more of Sam realising that she’s not a particularly good feminist and that she’s no more entitled to Danny’s affections than anyone else.

To be honest, while I could say the most about this version and there’s a lot of potential drama there it’s the one I like the least because it means canonising my least favourite proto-abusive bad-faith narcissistic reading of Sam, casting her as an almost-villain and essentially punishing her over and over until she character develops into a decent human being.  Sure it’s an important message about how you treat others but it’s not a very nice or kind story and while there might be the odd fic that makes it cathartic I can’t say I’m a huge fan.

Again, if I had to pick, I’d probably go with something like #2. 

But there we go.  Another thrilling instalment in the “overly long posts about Sam Manson” saga.  

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for stopping by!

[shes-an-oddbird]

So I’ve been working on this AOS fic basically on and off since season 4 and its massive and intricate and at some point I basically gave up on it all together because I didn’t think I’d ever be able to finish it. But then season seven rolled around, gave me inspiration to tie together some bits and I was motivated to try again. I still may never finish it, I’m going to try but even if I don’t there are bits and pieces I love and want to share. The month of October seemed appropriate given the theme of the fic so ideally I’ll post a little drabble from the fic each day.

This bit, which is less of a drabble and more of a prologue, if May’s P.O.V. as the arrive to the masquerade. And the whole thing is sort of a season 4 AU/Canon divergence

Welcome, to the Mad Science Masquerade!

You can never be sure if rain on the day of an op is going to be the key to success or the shovel they bury you with. As May tries to hear anything over the rumble of thunder or get a visual on anything through the sea of large umbrellas being held over the guests’ heads by an army of young men in matching tuxes, she decides that in this case it’s the latter. She smiles kindly at the kid who is doing his best to keep her and the train of her dress dry; although the umbrella does start to slip when he sees Daisy step out of the car behind them and it’s hard for her not to roll her eyes.

She tugs on Coulson’s arm where her hand is resting, looped gently through his elbow. He has started a conversation with the valet about Lola and she can hear his concentration slipping. “Honey, I’m getting wet.” She hates undercover. Somehow, they always end up like this.

Coulson wraps up his conversation quickly, apologizes to his ‘favorite girls’ and waves off the umbrella handlers who are prepared to escort them to the front entrance. “No need gentleman.” He hoists his arm above them and the prosthetic projects a shield, sans the SHIELD logo after Fitz had done some fiddling with it.

The shield expands to cover their party of three and May can finally get a clear view as those closest to them back up. “Better?” He asks her.

“Much.” She starts to pick out familiar faces from their research. Coulson is not the only one showing off their tech. FitzSimmons had said before that when minds like these get together they like to show off and, in the spirit of glamour, many had incorporated their tech into their attire for the evening. Expensive watches outfitted with forcefield projectors like Coulson’s. Metallic jewelry that reflected the low lights and distant lightening. Even her own dress had been designed to incorporate the cloaking tech and Daisy’s gauntlets, while scaled back and mostly hidden under the flowy sleeves of her dress, had been modified with subtle tech should the need to impress arise.

Just ahead of them she recognizes Fitz. Unlike others, and despite the fact that he’s cleared to be at the event, he already has a mask firmly set in place. She recognizes his stance though, and the particular way he fidgets. He’s fretting over something Radcliffe has said but that was a near constant state for them. There is a woman in a simple white gown standing next to them that she guesses is the assistant he insisted on bringing with them.

She turns her attention on to the building. The architecture is modern, white concrete and glass, and on a nice day against a sunny sky she is sure it impresses but in the warm rain and against the dark cloudy sky it looks like a tombstone.

They enter a grand foyer, Coulson’s shield flickers out above them and Daisy lets out a surprised gasp. The interior is comprised entirely of concrete and marble, glass and iron. Its sharp and innovative but something about it still feels rich and indulgent like no expense was spared on the materials and fixtures. Perhaps it’s because it’s been decorated to emphasis the eerie elegance of the mad science theme or its simply everyone in their masquerade gowns and glittering, glowing masks, regardless it’s still the most extravagant event she’s ever attended and she’d been to more than a few.

There is a heavily crowded bar to their left and a wall of windows and glass doors leading to an empty balcony on their right. Amongst the crowd by the bar she spots Simmons and Hunter. She thinks their decisions on how to team up had been wise. Certain pairs were meant to draw attention and others to fly under the radar, it was a strategy she believed in, but she worries over them in particular. Simmons, while an improved liar was everything prim and proper and logic and reason. Hunter on the other hand was a wildcard, emotional, crude and inappropriate but he was loyal and reliable. They might not be ideally suited to work together, the clashing would be inevitable, but at least she didn’t have to concern herself with Simmons wellbeing. They would protect each other, she suspects, the same way the siblings they would be portraying would.

“We should get a good look at the ballroom before everyone is in there.” Daisy suggests. May nods in agreement. Coulson steps ahead of them to push open one of the magnificent double doors. The ballroom is as vast as the entry is grand. From the entrance it seems to go on forever. Directly across from them is a large staircase leading up to the balcony that runs the perimeter of the room. Halfway up the stairs there is a landing that splits off into two. To one side, more large windows like those in the foyer, the outside balcony seems to wrap around that entire side of the building and overlooks the ocean.

Coulson bumps her wrist with his own and looks pointedly across the room. There are not many guests yet, but they are starting to pour in behind them, likely realizing there are more liquor and appetizers inside. Yo-yo and her team are already there, in a shadowy corner at one of the elaborately dressed tables. The three seem to be in conversation and May watches as Yo-yo points up at the ceiling. Above them is a magnificent chandelier that spans nearly the length of the ballroom’s dance floor. Its frame is wrought iron and geometric to match the rest of the contemporary design but it’s still draped in thousands of crystals. As they move across the room, a different angle on the fixture reveals different shapes and from just below she can see the double helix shape of a DNA strand.

Elena, Piper and Davis are playing their part well. Piper and Davis sit to either side of Elena in matching attire, while she sits between them looking unimpressed. Yo-yo’s disdain for formal wear is no secret and its working in their favor. Her futuristic jumpsuit looks more fashionable than robotic, but it is a fine line. They draw just the right amount of attention. Guests walk past their table and share whispers. They are curious but not openly so. Its exactly as they wanted.

May hears a collective gasp run through the room. Yes, things were definitely going as planned, despite her earlier concerns. She turns her eyes back on the grand staircase and at the landing, towering above the crowd are the last of their team. Mack and Bobbi are an intimidating pair to those who do know them and to those that don’t, well the star struck crowd spoke for itself. Mack stands tall and solid in his perfectly tailored tux. There are subtle hints of tech incorporated into his look but not in the gaudy way most of the men had gone for. Mostly he looks as though he is acting as Bobbi’s tether. Everything about her looked light and airy, as though she may float away in her voluminous white gown.

They are meant to draw the attention openly and loudly. It’s risky. Bobbi, like Hunter, should still be in hiding, but she had been more than happy to take the risk. Boredom of being on the run, May assumed. She’d keep an eye on her. That eagerness could lead to rash decisions but otherwise she felt good about the mission.

[blackasteriia]

16, 10, 7 for the ask meme :u

 Super Duper Deep Character Questions

||First question is shown but the rest is under the cut because it’s a doozy||

16.

I discussed in a previous post  how Xion’s physical appearance relates to her overall self-conception. Because of the influences of others and her own experiences with the world, Xion developed into a young girl with black hair. When she was in the Organization she had blue eyes. However, her eye color changed to a dark brown after she left. This was a statement of individuality that differentiates her from Kairi and Namine. It is also how she approaches her own style. Xion is unique, she doesn’t follow the trends or ideas of anyone else. She wasn’t want to wear other people’s clothes, or act like her peers. Her brand is 100% pure Xion. Pro-tip, if you want to buy Xion new clothes: let her pick them out. Do not choose them for her. She will not wear them. Set her free in a clothing store and see what she comes back with. Whatever it is, you can be certain she’ll be happy with it.  

Xion’s sense of style was a gradual evolution. In the Organization she wore the characteristic black coat, pants, and boots of the uniform, day-in, day-out. Her hair began to grow to the point it needed cutting. She did it with a knife. Fingernails were chewed off. Someone must’ve taken pity and taught the kids about soap, toothpaste, and basic hygiene. I hope someone did, at least. There’s no implication of it in canon though. She does not wear make-up and even if she understood its function, she wouldn’t have time to. There is little to no self-expression in the Organization. Xion is also a child soldier fighting to survive, appearance is way low on her list of priorities anyway. She doesn’t know anything about ‘style’ or ‘fashion.’ Clothes are functional, they keep her warm and they cover her. They also provide basic protection against the elements and attacks. 

The first time Xion shows an inkling of concern for ‘style’ is when she alters her Organization coat. Even without her memories, she recognized that the Organization coat is a symbol that said something about her. Something she did not want to be said about her. She needed the coat to travel the dark corridors, however. So, Xion found a tailor and had them change the design to suit her. She had it shortened and the hood replaced with a collar. Vents in the sleeves made it so they could be rolled-up. She also learned a spell that cleaned dirt, blood, and other stains from her clothes. This is also the point where she realized she could wear the clothes she wanted. Xion never had more than one extra change of clothes, but it was her clothes. Here Xion found some preferences: she preferred pants to skirts, she liked boots, loose shirts were comfy, and she kinda liked necklaces?

The necklace I draw her wearing in her art, for example: 

Is one that she made herself out of a piece of gem she found. She whittled and smoothed it down, then hallowed out a hole to loop a string through. Little things like that enabled Xion to find places for self-expression. However, her ‘style’ was cramped by the reality of her situation. She was still fighting to survive and once again her priorities laid elsewhere.

Once most adults are no longer attempting to murder her, Xion flourishes. She is never a fashionista, she never particullary goes out of her way to look Good. Instead, Xion understands that the ability to express herself should not be wasted. This freedom is valuable and just one more way to carve a niche for herself. It’s a statement of independence and power, a privilege she did not hav before. Clothes are always practical to her. She never wears heels for this reason. Still does not like skirts. Yet, she’ll color coordinate her outfits to suit her: blacks, dark, purple, blues, or reds. She probably has a small rotation of necklaces she likes. She has someone professional cut her hair, although it never grows past her shoulders. She looks clean and put together, confident in her appearance. Also she’s never wearing the stupid tacky apprentice outfit, she has self-respect. Even Xion knows that ascots are lame.

If she ever wears make-up it is very minimal, at most. She also is never going to get a piercing, too much risk of it getting ripped off in a fight. She will, however get a tattoo. Saïx left Xion with a gnarly, ugly scar across her back from hip-to-shoulder. When she’s old enough she gets a tattoo to cover it up. What the tattoo is of, depends. Usually it’ll be flowers and vines, a simple but elegant design that works to cover the mark. So, a painful reminder of her past is covered by something that is her and nothing else. Furthermore, in her room, wherever it is in the verse, Xion tends to collect things. Little trinkets and objects from her various travels. She’s not unorganized but she’s not obsessive about a system. She likes things to be at hand when she needs them. Shelves are for books and knick-knacks. She likes to have a desk to study at. Xion isn’t one for artwork, typically. However, if given art to put on the walls she might comply. 

10.

Xion isn’t traditionally creative, so you won’t see her make many works of art. She might doodle, she might hum, or write out a quick rhyme, however, she is not strongly artistically motivated. At least not in the way that is typically thought of as ‘artistic.’ Remember that Xion is a kinesthetic learner. Physical action is more important to her than an aesthetic ideal. In general, Xion will do things with her hands as an absent minded way to dispose of excess energy. Thus, the aforementioned carved stone necklace or her tendency to dismantle things. That or her little doodles, scrawled onto a page. If Xion is drawing or writing then it’s descriptive. Very grounded art that focuses on capturing details as she sees them. Xion isn’t an abstract person. She is concrete and focused on the space around her. It’s also apart of her general curiosity and drive to learn. Xion isn’t concerned with the lofty pursuit of high art. She’ll consume it, but even then I still wouldn’t consider her a ‘creative’ person. She doesn’t really listen to music and wouldn’t find a lot of joy in perusing an art gallery. Most paintings are boring man, I don’t know what to tell you. 

Where Xion shows creativity is in her problem solving. Xion is well-wired for logic and math. She is capable of teaching herself calculus if given the resources to do so. She can take the information she is given to form a conclusion. Then, use that conclusion to ask more questions that lead to more observation. She uses deductive reasoning and is probably one of the few people not truly victim to the confirmation bias. Xion is trying to disprove herself. It lends to her paranoia and tends to make her a bit of a conspiracy theorist. She is absolutely the one with the red string and the cork board. It also will make her a brilliant scientist and healer. Xion will ask the questions, look from the angles, and think about the problem, in ways no one else will. She will look at almost any design and think ‘how can I make it more efficient?’ She will then think through the possibilities of that. All of these are signs of her creativity. They’re pragmatic, efficient, and adaptable, much like her. 

Very little of this is evident until after Xehanort’s death. When Xion had the free time, the resources, and the ability to focus on it. Once again, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, even if Xion had the drive for creativity she wouldn’t have the resources for it. Nonetheless, she had to learn to how to fight the Heartless and adapt to the flow of battle. She also had to survive and exist on her own after leaving the Organization. All of these problems would require creative solutions. It just wouldn’t flourish in a tangible way until the people who were trying to kill her were all dead. So, she learns how to read, learns math and science, and begins to explore the world in a new way, with new tools. 

7.

Xion is a three year old child soldier with extensive combat experience, a history of abuse, torture, enslavement, and neglect. She has no social supports, no parents, no friends, no family. She has spent two years living on her own, feeding and caring for herself. Her coping skills are near non-existant. She has not been taught how to regulate her emotions, which easily overwhelm her or she suppresses them altogether. Several key betrayals have left her paranoid and untrusting. 

According to the DSM-5 the requirement for PTSD is exposure to a life-threatening event and Xion qualifies. She presents symptoms of involuntary memories, nightmares, flashbacks, and dissociation. She will avoid places or people who remind her of the trauma. Although, this is broad and often times Xion labels things as ‘threatening’ merely because they trigger her anxiety. Xion also has low self-worth, self-blame, emotional estrangement from others, and persistently struggles to regulate her emotions. She shows irritableness, hyper-vigilance, reckless and self-destructive behavior, startles very easily, and has deep sleep disturbances. 

When Xion is avoiding Roxas and Axel at the end of KH3, that is part of her detachment from social connection. When she vanishes for two weeks that is her isolating herself to deal with anxiety and negative emotions. Xion is paranoid and is constantly calculating the chances that someone is trying to kill or harm her. This is a learned behavior from years of people betraying her and attempting to kill and harm her. Her nightmares are the most prolific. Xion cannot sleep without horrifying dreams of close calls in battle, her abuse, or torture. So, she avoids sleep like it’s the plague, going up to four days without rest. She doesn’t like to talk about her trauma, or think about it. Xion is very good at hiding her symptoms and her distress. She’ll usually isolate herself when emotions become too much to handle. Failing the ability to escape, she will express it as an explosion of pent-up rage. 

She blames herself for what has happened to her. If she was injured in a fight then it was her fault. She should’ve been better. If she had been smarter, better prepared she could’ve prevented Xemnas from capturing her. Xion is self-destructive and reckless, she has very little regard for her own health or safety. She treats most injuries and wounds like they’re paper cuts, and is confused when others freak out over them. She hasn’t trusted someone since Axel first hit her. Everyone lies, everyone will betray you, they will all eventually attempt to kill you, at some point. From the position of an outsider this seems insane. To Xion it is perfectly rational and logical, a natural extension of her own experiences. Xion’s mental health is poor and her physical health follows it. Food deprivation means she is underweight. She looks like she doesn’t sleep. Her hair is a mess, her fingernails bitten to the quick. 

Everything about Xion is a perfect storm of poor mental health and self-care. So, what can be done to help her? Like most problems Xion has faced, its solved by moving her up the Hierarchy of Needs. Providing her consistent meals, shelter, water, entertainment, and affection, gives her the space to focus on her own health. By giving Xion examples of relationships that are not abusive or neglectful, it can reframe her previous experiences. Xion can learn how to trust and to open up to others. It will just take time and energy to encourage her to do so. If it’s available, talk therapy would be invaluable to her. In the case it is not available, encouraging her to discuss her feelings and memories will help her process them in a more healthy way. Xion is very young and she has extensive, painful trauma that weighs her down. However, with proper help, love, and guidance, she can grow beyond her past. She’ll always be more jumpy, or nervous, or anxious than most, she’ll always have that suspicious paranoia. Her sleep habits will never be perfect and the nightmares will never truly go away. She is not resigned to an existence of suffering, however. Xion is adaptable and more than capable of healing. 

[yuyuhakushofangirl11]

My Thoughts on Body Positivity; The War Between Two Extremes

As a heavier set/plus size/fat woman, I’ve lived the vast majority of my life tipping scales from slightly to over my recommended weight. And as many people like myself I’ve experienced bullying because of this. Even before the internet was as huge as it was, and a hateful person could take your picture without your consent and turning it into  a nasty meme that ruins your life and any potential for yourself in the future due to the internet being an IV to us at this point, people are still cruel. They’ll still cut you to the quick and actively hunt for blood and tears and won’t stop until you’re nothing.  And then, the Body Positivity movement began.  At first I admit, I was on board with it. At least in the beginning. Larger people have always been the butt of the joke, made to feel like monsters, caught in a constant struggle within ourselves. The movement told us something we’ve never heard of before; that we’re human. We don’t deserve to be treated the way we are.  Now if the movement just kept to this, a means of encouraging larger people and easing a possible other worldview into the bullies who grew up into more vocal bullies then that would have been fine. But alas, as every movement on an internet platform, they drank from the SJW cool-aid. It turned from learning how to not be cruel to one’s self despite your weight into feeling superior because of it. Skinny Shaming, which was a rare phenomenon back in the day, came back into fashion. Encouraging unhealthy behaviors and ideas replaced the intent of self acceptance. And, perhaps most disturbing of all, the witch hunt that bled into a children’s program *coughSTEVENUNIVERSEcough* that, upon the notion of a teenage girl dared to draw a canonically larger character as skinny be placed upon a pier and baited into a suicide attempt.  So, who’s right? The extreme ‘Right’ who insist that all people who range from barely touching the somewhat arbitrary Obesity side of the scale to the genuinely concerning portion are right? Or is it the extreme ‘Left’ who insist that they are righteous? That it is acceptable to harass others due to their being thin and live in the delusion that nothing a heavier person does to themselves has health ramifications?  As with the age of extremes, the Middle Ground are suffocated and laughed at for ‘not being strongly convicted enough’(when in reality the Middle Ground is a perfectly legitimate stance to take). And this is where I have found myself after years of perpetual self hatred, instilled in me by the Right bullies as well as the Left bullies.  And so, I would like to present some questions and answers either side have about the matter that will hopefully help someone. Why don’t fat people just try to loose weight?  A: I present to you this counter question; what makes you think we haven’t tried? Most of us know we’re heavy, we know we’re fat, and that there are risks associated with that. Changing one’s eating habits/lifestyle is far more difficult than people give credit. Can’t they just stop eating? A: If you stop eating then your body would go into survival mode and completely ruin your metabolism, a key in weight loss. So no, we as human beings despite us being heavier NEED food to survive. Just. Like. You. I’m concerned for their well being. A: Be honest with yourself. Unless you are this person’s doctor or close family NO YOU ARE NOT. You may tell yourself you are, but this ‘I’m just so worried about your health’ is a loaded statement and a way to insert yourself and more than likely your insults into a person’s life without warranting.  I’m encouraging them by not coddling them. It gives them motivation. A:  No, it is in fact far more discouraging to have a person who is already in relative shape laughing and mocking a person who is actively trying to fix the problem. A heavier set person already has to deal with a possible addiction to food, health concerns, and undergoing the task of trying to do something about it. You screaming ‘fatty!’ at them is only pushing them towards a more comforting and just as harmful ideology.  This being said, if you’re the same person who openly mocks a heavier set person at the gym for waddling on the treadmill then you have, and pardon my language, no right to bitch. You are part of the problem. Why do fat people need representation?  A; Well, why do we? Perhaps if there is a character in media that shows people that heavier set people are human beings with thoughts and feelings, then maybe, just maybe, someone out there will see past the cellulite and learn to put their own feelings of disgust and superiority aside and treat them fairly.  Why do fat people follow this Body Positivity crap? A: Most heavier set people go into the Body Positivity movement for very much the same reason I did. I hated myself and to an extent still do. Someone told me that I shouldn’t and that there was something beautiful in me. And I followed them. If you’ve been told your entire life you’re an ugly monster who deserves every single scrap of harassment and cruelty dished out to you, be honest. You’d follow that ideology in a heart beat. It doesn’t matter if the movement now is filled with extremists. If they’re being told by someone that they worth, they’ll follow after them. The key here is, if you’re one of the small fraction of people who actually worry about others, is to evaluate your own attitudes towards larger set people and ask yourself if you’ve given them a reason to fall prey to following a potentially harmful ideology.  Fatness isn’t genetic. A: This is both true and false. Fat itself is not genetic. However, just as some people can be genetically predispositioned for certain health concerns such as mental health disorders and certain physical health concerns, larger set people may have a family history of being more prone to factors that increase the chance of weight gain. Low metabolism, glandular issues, depression/anxiety, and other factors are genetic. However, this isn’t the only reason certain people gain weight. It is something, however, to keep in mind.  And on the other end of the spectrum... A fat person can be just as healthy as a skinny person. A: This is a difficult topic to cover. For some the added weight can put a person more at risk for dangerous diseases like heart disease and diabetes. These are genuine concerns. Extra weight can put pressure on joints and strain certain parts of the body. To ignore these is to deny reality. However, depending on how overweight and active a larger person is, weight could be their only concern. Some heavier set people who exercise have the same blood pressure and such as an average person. It is important to not disregard valid health concerns pertaining weight in leu of feeling good about one’s self.  Fat is beautiful! Everyone should feel that way! A: Beauty, my friend, is in the eye of the beholder. There is beauty in everyone. This is a fact of nature. However, if a person does not find a heavier set person attractive that is no license to harass and belittle those who don’t find themselves attracted to that type of person. If you bully a skinny person then you’re no better than the bullies you hate. And ask yourself this; would you date a person if they were your size? If they had a trait some didn’t care for? If the answer is no congratulations. You’ve put yourself into another’s shoes. If a writer/artist doesn’t make fat characters then they are a fat shamer! A: No, they are not. First of all drawing/writing for a heavier set person is actually a daunting task even for someone of a larger size. Everyone’s life experience with weight is different. Do you truly expect a person, particularly one of average weight, to fully grasp that? Drawing a larger body type accurately is difficult for any stage of artist as well. And, as I’ve said many times before, artists and writers don’t owe you anything. They create to create. If you’ve an issue with that, create something yourself.  So, is Body Positivity inherently bad? In my opinion it wasn’t intended to be. However, as with most movements on social media, it has become perverse and potentially harmful to others with its messages. Yes, we should encourage heavier set people. We should also keep in mind our own health and happiness. However, no matter what side of the body shaming coin you fall on remember this: FAT PEOPLE ARE HUMAN BEINGS. No more, no less.  If you are a heavier person reading this, please understand that I am not attacking you. I don’t speak for everyone’s experience and don’t claim to do so. However, it is important that I say this much: Your weight does not define you. It is not what makes you ugly nor is it what makes you beautiful. Your personality, your soul, that is what you are. That is what makes you beautiful. Please, please remember that going forward.  I realize no one is going to actually read this, but I figured I’d get this off my chest. 

[scribble-fox]

You Can't Ask That - Andromeda Edition

(Diverges from canon compliant at ‘high noon’) We’ve been granted an exclusive interview with some key players in the settling of Helius, and we’re asking the sensitive questions. Tune in for more!

The Charlatan (speaking via audio link only)

Charlatan, I hear you share the pathfinder with Vetra?

*The Charlatan laughs* "He's not a pie you can slice into pieces and pass around. Or a weapon you loan out to a colleague. Ryder shares himself with me, and I with him of course. I'm not old fashioned. Why should I ask him not to share himself with others who make him happy."

You don't get jealous?

"Jealous? No. I'm a busy man and so is he. The first thing he does when he comes into port is see me, but I don't like to think of him out there in those big pathfinder quarters on the ship, all by himself."

And you've met Vetra?

"I actually met Vetra before I met Ryder. I have a lot of respect for a woman like that. I wish I had had on older sister like her growing up."

What is your work like, and keeping secrets?

"I've gotten used to keeping secrets. It's necessary. I never found it very difficult until I met Ryder. When I first lied to him, it was just work, but as we got closer I felt, guilty. I trusted him, or I wanted to trust him. It's ironic, I betrayed his trust because I wanted him to see me as trustworthy” *Pause* "The rest of it? I do it because it's necessary. I think that's the right thing to do."

If you could choose again, would you come here or stay in the Milky Way?

"Objectively? No. I wouldn't come here if I knew what was going to happen. But now, I wouldn't change it. I think what we are doing is good. It's not what we expected, but it's good."

What do you miss about the Milky Way?

"Honestly? Burgers. Just sitting in a quiet diner, middle of the night, big greasy burger and a pile of fries."

Vetra Nyx

So, Vetra, you and the pathfinder.

"That's the first question?" *Vetra twitches her mandibles in the Turian equivalent of an eye roll* "I don't usually talk about my personal life, with strangers at least." *she sighs* "Ryder is fun and he's respectful. He supports me emotionally without treating me like I can't handle myself."

Do you think he has a lover in ever port?

"Ha! Ryder? He doesn't have time for that and I don't think he's quite that charming. Besides I'm with him on most missions, I'd know."

What about The Charlatan?

"Ryder leaves all doe-eyed when we stop at Kadara and he comes back with a big stupid smile on his squishy human face. It's cute. What they have is different to what we have. But I don't feel threatened by it if that's what you're asking. We live on a ship together and we work together every day. I'm not the one that needs to be jealous

I do worry a little though. Ryder was really hurt after the thing with Sloane and I'm not sure we can trust the Charlatan. It's in the name. I don't know if he'll run that place any better than Sloane did, and if he doesn't, and things get bad, if we end up needing to put him down Ryder will do it. It would break his heart. I haven't seen Ryder cry yet and I really don't want to have to."

How do you feel about Jaal?

"He's an emotional sort of guy isn't he. He's nice but I'm not sure I'd choose to hang out with him if we weren't on a ship together. Last time I went to ask him a question he was naked, just walking around like it was totally normal. Maybe it is for Angara. I couldn't imagine Efvra doing it though."

You've had some disagreements with PeeBee?

"Yeah, at first. We have different perspectives. I'm a big sister who's always had to be responsible and she's a little sister that's pretty much had the freedom to make her own decisions. I like her though really, don't tell her, but I guess I'm a little jealous"

What has it been like living amongst humans?

"You mean with a human majority? Well it's been that way for a long time for me. Or at least not a Turian majority. It's the same. Humans have all the same political bullshit and petty fights, feels like home. I can't eat a lot of their food though, so variety isn't great."

Do you miss your sister when you're away?

"Well she's old enough now that she kind of needs the space. She's safe on the nexus, but I do worry, especially if I'm on a dangerous mission. I worry who will take care of her if something happens to me."

What is the most exhilarating?

"Ryder's driving. *Vetra laughs* He's a good driver but he goes fast, he takes corners and isn't afraid to go off road. It's fun, scary, but fun."

Nakmor Drack

You're the oldest on the crew, do you ever feel like you're babysitting?

"It's not just the crew. I'm always babysitting these days. They can hold their own though."

Are you ever scared on missions?

"Fighting comes naturally to a Krogan. It's the nomad I worry about. Ryder's a terrible driver. He'll drive straight up a sheer cliff face if it's in his way. I can respect that but I'd rather not be in the vehicle."

Who are you closest with on the crew?

"Vetra is a good friend. We work well together. She's sensible."

You know about The Charlatan, do you worry that Ryder is going to hurt her?

"Vetra's a grown up, she can handle herself. Anyway, Krogan's don't have the luxury of monogamy. Why should we expect it of anyone else."

What do you miss about the Milky Way?

"Varren. The only companion you can trust in your old age. We couldn't bring them with us, pestilential species, destructive, like us I suppose. Still, there are some commendable alternatives here."

What compelled the krogan to come out here?

"Ha! Have you been to Tuchunka? Best leave that world to the pyjaks and start fresh. Krogan have a long history of screwing things up. Sure we've been manipulated and kicked in the dirt by every species there is but it's our own nature we need to leave behind."

Ryder

So, what's it like being pathfinder?

"Oh it's great! You get to make all the important decisions, get shot at, there's no dental  out here but you find all kinds of interesting medicine on Kadara. *He winks* I'll take what I can get.

But really, it's hard. You might have noticed, I'm not the serious type. I don't speak politician and I don't compromise on my values. Maybe that will get me in trouble, but I can't be fake like that. Im hoping it will let people know I'm honest, and I'm real. I can make mistakes like everyone, but I'm doing my best."

How do you feel about your dad leaving it to you?

"Yeah, that was a shock. I wasn't ready for it and I was kind of angry. There's this sense I get from people, certain people especially, that it's just nepotism. But dad wasn't sentimental like that and he was always big on working for something yourself. Sometimes I wonder if it was regret though. I know he started to realise that he'd missed Sara and my growing up. I do wish I'd had the chance to really get to know him. Maybe there's a bit of bitterness there. But I'm not sure he would have taken the time until it was life or death.

I know why he didn't pick Cora though, doesn't take much talking to her to work that out. I wish she could see it. She's not ready."

You say the Angara are allies, but what do they really think of us?

"You'd have to ask them that. Same as us I guess. They're cautious, which is fair. But they've been really welcoming. I think they're a pretty generous species over all."

So what do you think of the Angara as people?

"I like them. They're straightforward. They wear their emotions on their sleeves which is something I can get behind. I think Dad would be too formal for them. They tend to respond better when you're open with them. They do seem kind of conservative otherwise though."

Do you agree with Tan, Addison and Kesh.

"I usually agree with Kesh."

How's your relationship with Vetra Nyx?

"Solid. She's the kind of person you want to curl up in front of the vids with, or take out in low grav in the nomad for some crater hopping. She's a real relationship person, mature you know? She had to grow up fast. I can respect that. If we were in the Milky Way, I'd love to take her hiking through some national parks back on earth. A real holiday. She'd be better at all that than me, but I think I'd enjoy that."

You and the Charlatan?

"You're not supposed to know about that."

The whole galaxy knows about that.

"Shit. *Rider sighs good naturedly* He's smooth. I like a guy who can flirt back without getting flustered or taking it all too seriously. He's not intimidated by the title and he doesn't get all tangled between business and personal. We could probably be working against each other and still be lovers. *Ryder laughs* He ticks a lot of boxes as far as my boyhood fantasies go. But we genuinely get along and I think we have a good connection that's not entirely physical."

Do you trust him?

*Ryder pauses to lean back in his chair* "He really hurt me, and that's slowed things down a bit. I don't want to think about it, I'm trying to keep it light. The thing is, I expected untruths. I knew he wasn't telling me everything. I even suspected he was the Charlatan early on. But I asked him and he told me no, right to my face. We'd already started to get close and it seemed like he was opening up to me. I just thought he would avoid the truth, not lie directly. You know, when someone asks 'did you eat my blast-o's?' And you say 'I didn't have breakfast this morning' because they'll think you're saying you didn't but actually you ate them last night for dessert. I understand him not telling me, but he's very comfortable with lying directly. That does make me uneasy."

Is there anyone on your crew that you don't like?

"I wouldn't say that. I do tend to avoid Cora. She just makes me uncomfortable. I don't know her well. But she's always talking about my dad. People do that a lot. If he's so great maybe I'd have known him well enough to see that myself. But I can't say that because he died for me. People have told me that and they get angry at me. Really, like I don't know. But he was my dad and just because someone loves you, and even if they make some big gesture at the end like that, it doesn't change the past. You can't treat someone like a stranger for their whole life and then expect them to connect with you.

Gil is a bit much for me too. I chatted to him when I first got on the ship, flirted with him. I flirted with everyone. But, ah, he came on a little strong and not with any real confidence. He's a bit pig headed when it comes to the ship too. He's good at what he does, but it's a complex ship. Kallo knows what tweaks will interfere with other systems. There would be a lot less time wasted and far fewer mistakes if the two of them would communicate.

In saying that, I'd fight side by side with any of them. They're my team. It's my job, and my duty, but it's also my pleasure."

Thanks for answering our questions today.

Ryder: My pleasure.

Nakmor Drack: Don't mention it.

Vetra Nyx: Okay.

The Charlatan: Always a pleasure.