#so hurt by the betrayal of the council making weapons that all he wanted was peace

[meownotgood]

also I'll keep my thoughts about this in the tags, don't look if you don't want any leaked information, but the video of viktor's chinese voice actor.... have any of you seen it......... because.......

[emma-m-black]

Soul Mate Magic - Chapter Sixteen

Rupert Giles x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

A new magical transfer comes to Sunnydale High, and ends up discovering a magical connection with our favorite Watcher.

OC is 19+ (Not a Minor), Age Gap, Slow Burn-ish (with a little preview thrown in there during the Bandy Candy Episode).

____

Author Master List

Read: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen,

Chapter Sixteen:

“Rose!” The shout of her name broke through the suffocating darkness she’d been lost in. Her eyes fluttered open as her body trembled, pain pulling her further into consciousness. “Rose, wake up!”

Buffy’s frantic face hovered above her, concern flooding her features.

A dull throb turned into searing pain at the back of Rose’s head. “Oww,” she whispered, raising her hand instinctively, but the moment she did, memories slammed into her like a freight train.

There had been a knock at the door. Joyce had answered it. Rose had heard her scream, and she’d rushed to help, stepping out into the night—then the sudden force throwing her back, her skull colliding with the banister. Darkness had followed.

“If you bring her outside, I can heal her,” came a distant, familiar voice, tugging Rose’s attention.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buffy snapped, her voice taut with tension. “Rose. Rose, they took my mother. I have to go after her. Do you know where they went?”

“Boarding house, Prescott Lane,” the voice replied again, each word dripping with a cold certainty. “The Watcher’s Council has been working out of there for the last week.”

Her father. Slowly, Rose turned her head, and there he was—sitting just outside the open front door, leaning on the frame like an outsider watching from the shadows. His eyes met hers, tired and broken in a way that mirrored something deep in her own chest.

“Rose, I ne—”

“Go, Buffy,” Rose cut in softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of pain and confusion inside her. “Save your mom.”

As Buffy gathered her weapons and disappeared into the night, Rose shifted, pressing her back against the banister for support. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her father, sitting there so casually after everything, made her skin crawl.

“Rose, you’re bleeding. I can heal you if—”

“I’m not stepping out that door,” she interrupted, her tone sharp as her gaze locked onto his. “Were you there the whole time? Just… watching?”

Her father nodded slowly. “Yes, I saw what happened, but I... I couldn’t get into the house.”

The words stung, not just for their content but for what they implied—he had seen her in danger and she had spelled him from being able to help. Anger and sorrow tangled together in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“How did you know the Watcher’s Council was here? Where they’re hiding?” Rose asked, her voice quieter now, as if the energy to stay angry was draining away.

“The coven has been watching all the comings and goings in town. The Elders went to them, told them about the interference from the Watcher and his Slayer,” he explained, his tone measured.

The betrayal hit her in waves—first slow, then suddenly, like a drowning sensation she couldn’t escape from. Her own family, people she’d trusted with everything, was tied up in this conspiracy. She wanted to scream at him.

“If you hurt them...” Rose warned, her voice trembling, though she wasn’t sure if it was from fear, anger, or the fresh stab of hurt.

“I don’t want anyone hurt,” her father said quietly. “Especially not you.”

Rose scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “But you’d still throw me on a pyre, wouldn’t you? All so you can keep your power.”

Her laugh was hollow, but it was the only thing holding back the tears she refused to shed. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“No,” he said, voice trembling slightly. “I’m done with it. They’ve excommunicated me, Rose. For telling your friends where you were. I won’t let them sacrifice you. I won’t let them destroy you. Not for this.”

There was a flicker of sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, just a split second, she wanted to believe him. But how could she? After everything? She had spent her whole life trusting this man, and in return, he had betrayed her. Lied to her. His actions had led her here—wounded, broken, and on the verge of losing everything.

“How could I ever trust you again?” she asked, her voice cracking. The words echoed the deeper pain inside her, a pain far worse than the throbbing in her head.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” he admitted, sadness weighing down every syllable. “But I hope you’ll believe that I’ll be watching, and I’ll do what I can to help you. I’ll make up for the lies, somehow.”

Rose looked at him, eyes blurry with emotion, not entirely sure how to respond. She was too raw, too wounded. She shut her eyes and let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.

But then he spoke again.

“So, you and the Watcher seem quite close...”

The shift in tone was enough to drag her out of her misery, and a groan escaped her lips. “Dad...”

“He’s quite a bit older, though...” his voice was laced with discomfort.

“DAD!” Rose’s voice was louder now, a laugh bubbling up despite everything. She couldn’t help it.

“He’s also quite protective of you,” her father added softly.

“Mr. Giles is like that with everyone,” Rose mumbled, though her heartbeat quickened at the thought of Giles. She tried to ignore the memories—the closeness, the connection, the intimacy that had somehow drawn them together.

But then her father’s next words stopped her cold. “His right hook said otherwise.”

Her eyes shot open, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

“When I came to him, to ask them for help, he... well, we may have come to blows.”

“May have?” she asked, her mind whirling with the information. It didn’t fit—Giles was always so controlled, but then her mind flashed to the motel room with Ethan...

“It was the spell.“ she said simply, the memory of that time rising to the surface.

“Oh, I don’t think that was because of that silly love spell,” her father said, his tone darkening. “That Mr. Rayne explained everything. I know what spell they used, Rose. It only amplifies something that’s already there. Or has the potential to be.”

The weight of his words crushed down on her chest, suffocating. Her family knew. They knew everything. The embarrassment burned through her, hotter than any fire her family could throw her on.

“Wait... how much do you know?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.

“Everything, Rose.”

“Oh my God,” Rose groaned, the shame rising in her throat like bile. “I think I might die from embarrassment.”

Her father chuckled softly. “Hey, I never told you about my first time...”

“DAD! Oh my god no!” Rose screamed as she raised her hands to her ears to cover them.

A laugh broke through her lips before she could stop it, and soon her father was laughing too.

Rose wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she and her father exchanged stilted, awkward conversation. The distance between them—emotional and physical—felt like an invisible wall neither could fully breach. But then something flickered in her memory.

“Wait,” she said, snapping her attention to him. “You said came to blows… Did you punch Mr. Giles?”

Her father shifted uncomfortably, his lips twitching into a lopsided smirk. “Tried to. Didn’t get a very good hit in mind you,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But he was always faster than me.”

“What?” Rose’s voice was disbelieving, her mind struggling to connect the pieces of a life she never imagined her father shared with Giles. She stared at him in shock, the distance between past and present collapsing into one messy, tangled truth.

Before she could process the revelation, the familiar rumble of Giles’s car cut through the tension. Rose turned her head, watching as Giles and the Summers women emerged, each of them looking haggard and worn. It was as if the weight of the world clung to them.

Rose and her father stood as they made their way up the porch, the atmosphere shifting with their arrival. She made a move to approach Buffy, concern clouding her expression. “Buffy, are you okay?” she asked, taking a step forward before stopping abruptly, remembering the barrier—the house’s threshold that kept her father just outside and her safe.

“I’m okay,” Buffy replied, her tone flat but tinged with exhaustion. Her eyes flickered toward Rose’s father, wary and distrustful, but she carefully sidestepped him, ushering her mother inside and disappearing toward the kitchen.

Then, silence. The kind that crackles like static in the air, thick and suffocating.

“Rupert,” The greeting was cold.

“Cole,” Giles replied, his voice sharp with unspoken history.

Rose blinked, trying to wrap her mind around what she was witnessing. Her father, Giles, together. She could feel the words struggling to form in her mouth. “What is… happening?” she asked softly, her voice faltering, as if her brain couldn’t keep up with the revelations.

“We met long before all of this,” Cole said, keeping his eyes locked on Giles with an intensity Rose hadn’t seen before. “Oxford.”

“Oh, my god…” Rose whispered, her heart sinking into her stomach. This wasn’t just a collision of the past and present—this was a nightmare unfolding before her.

Cole’s gaze never wavered, hard and cold as it fixed on Giles. “Surprisingly, I wasn’t much of a fan of you back then either,” Cole said, his voice laced with bitterness.

Rose stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. Her father—the man who had betrayed her—and Giles, the person she trusted, the man she… had feelings for, were at odds. And not just because of her. They had known each other long before the curse, before her entire life had spiraled into chaos.

Giles’s response was biting, full of venom Rose had never heard him use. “Perhaps that was because you always knew, somewhere deep down, that I would be entrusted with your daughter’s care. While you and your coven plotted to kill her.”

“This was never what I wanted!” Cole’s retort came fast, his frustration clear as his voice cracked under the weight of his guilt. “I didn’t know about the curse until it was too late! By then, I’d already been blooded into the coven—excommunicated by my own family for turning my back on the Council. Don’t act like you’re some saint, Rupert. You slept with my teenage daughter.”

Rose’s blood ran cold as Cole’s words struck like a slap to her face. You slept with my daughter. The weight of that accusation—spoken aloud, right there in front of her—felt like a wave of humiliation crashing over her. Her face flushed hot, and she could feel the embarrassment suffocating her, knowing that not only her father but everyone knew what had happened between her and Giles.

“Wait, the Council?” she stammered, trying to latch onto anything to distract her from the overwhelming shame coursing through her.

Cole sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, his features hard with regret. “Much like Rupert, I rebelled against my destiny as a Watcher. But by the time I knew the truth—what your mother was, and the curse that bound the coven—it was too late. She was already pregnant with you, and there was no turning back. Not when I knew…”

Giles’s patience snapped, and his voice cut through the air like a blade. “That you would one day have to kill your own flesh and blood,” he spat, his face twisted in contempt. He shoved Cole, and the sudden violence startled Rose, her breath catching in her throat.

Cole staggered back, but he didn’t hesitate before pushing Giles right back. “There was nothing I could do! They would have hunted us down—hunted her down!” His voice broke, a hint of desperation leaking through.

Rose’s head spun as she stepped out into the night and between the two men before her—two people who seemed to care a great deal for her—now throwing accusations and fists as if she were some object of power, something to be fought over. Her heart ached with betrayal, and yet some small, wounded part of her wanted to believe her father. She wanted to trust that, somehow; he had meant to protect her. But how could she?

She looked at Giles, the man she had come to trust more than anyone, and saw the fire in his eyes—the protective, possessive rage that scared and comforted her in equal measure. And then there was her father, pleading for understanding in the only way he knew how. This wasn’t just some petty grudge between them; this was about her. About their failure to save her, their failure to keep her safe.

“So what, do you think you can protect, Rose? The good old Watcher—protector of the good and innocent—you threw your beloved Slayer to the slaughter.” Cole spat, stepping back, distancing himself from his daughter.

“What are you talking about?” Rose’s voice cracked, confusion and disbelief rippling through her as she glanced from her father to Giles.

Cole’s words were dripping with venom as he leaned against the railing. “Oh, did your beloved protector not tell you how, if the Slayer happens to live long enough, they’re basically put out to pasture by their Watcher? Strip them of their powers, see how they fare. It’s just a way to thin the herd, really. Get rid of the Slayer before they age out, before they’re too difficult to control. Then call up the next young, impressionable potential.”

“Buffy’s powers...” Rose whispered, her stomach twisting as horror crept into her heart. She turned to Giles, taking a step back from him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You did that to her?”

Giles opened his mouth, his hand instinctively reaching out to her, but he stopped himself short, his face drawn tight with guilt. “Rose, I can explain.”

“You took her powers away. You left her defenseless. Her mother was kidnapped, I was attacked...” Rose’s voice rose, shaking with the weight of the accusation. She couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe him.

Giles’s face blanched, his eyes wide with concern, his voice soft and urgent. “Are you okay?” He stepped toward her, desperation in his eyes, as if needing to know she was unharmed.

Rose waved him off, her anger bubbling up, her hand trembling. “I’m fine, but this isn’t about me!”

“It’s okay, Rose,” came Buffy’s quiet, steady voice from the doorframe. Her tone was calm, but there was an undercurrent of pain. “Giles put his job and his life on the line to stop the trial.”

“It doesn’t matter much now. They sacked me,” Giles muttered, his voice heavy with defeat, as if the weight of it was too much to bear. “I’ll be lucky if they don’t have me deported.” His eyes met Rose’s, filled with regret, and something else—something tender.

“Rupert,” Rose whispered. Her heart twisted, aching for him, but her body remained frozen in place. She wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, but her feet wouldn’t move. She was caught between the love she felt for him and the overwhelming guilt, shame, and confusion choking her.

“The Council said he cared too much for me,” Buffy said with a faint smile, trying to break the tension. “And they were ready to hand you over to your coven, Rose. They didn’t want us meddling in your families affairs, but you’ll be happy to know, Mr. Murphy—” Buffy turned to Cole, her gaze steely—"Giles threatened to burn the Council to the ground if they laid a hand on your daughter. And we won’t have to worry about them. I made sure they got the message loud and clear: they’d better be out of town before my powers come back."

“The coven would’ve told the Council everything...” Cole muttered darkly, rubbing a hand across his face.

The weight of it all was too much for Rose. Everything came crashing down at once—the betrayal, the love, the guilt. The exhaustion from constantly looking over her shoulder, being hunted by her own family. Giles losing his place in the Council, risking everything for her... the reality of it cut through her like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. She wasn’t just feeling guilty for Buffy’s sake anymore. She felt a deep, gnawing fear that everything in her life was unraveling. Buffy’s mom had been kidnapped. Buffy herself had been left vulnerable. Rose’s own father, her flesh and blood, had been complicit in this madness. And Giles—Giles had sacrificed his career, his future, for her, and for his Slayer.

Her knees buckled. The weight, the shame, the love—it was overwhelming her. She felt herself falling, but before she could even register what was happening, strong arms caught her.

Giles lowered them both gently to the ground, his breath ragged with emotion. Rose let out a small, hiccupped sob as she looked up, her eyes locking with his. His blue eyes, always so calm, so steady, were now full of worry—worry for her. He cradled her gently, like she was something precious, something he couldn’t bear to lose.

And in that moment, her heart broke and mended all at once. She loved him. She loved him. It wasn’t the spell. It never had been. Her heart, her magic, every part of her, was bound to him in a way that transcended anything she could explain.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice barely audible as she reached up to touch his face. Her hand trembled as she traced the worry lines on his brow, her eyes searching his. She knew this love was another burden to carry, another complication, but she couldn’t deny it. Not anymore.

Even with everything falling apart, the truth was simple. She loved him, and he still cared enough about her to protect her—not even the chaos swirling around them—could change that.

Chapter Seventeen

[f1-disaster-bi]

Because I can't help myself have some vampire Slayer Lando and Watcher Sebastian:

"I'm....I'm going to die?"

Sebastian felt his heart plummet as he turned around to look at Lando. The teenager was staring at him with wide eyes and there was nothing but hurt and betrayal on his face.

"Lando....", Sebastian started but he had to stop because what could he say to make this better? How could any of them possibly make any of this better as Lando looked smaller than Sebastian had ever seen him.

Lando, while being slightly short and lithe, was never small. He filled rooms with his laughter and his wit. He had the sharpest tongue, and Sebastian had often been on the receiving end of his sarcasm. Lando was full of life and fight despite not wanting to be the Slayer, but he wore his destiny like armour and now, now he just looked broken.

Sebastian wanted to bundle him into his arms even though it wasn't his place. He was the Watcher. He wasn't meant to have grown attached to his charge. He was just meant to have wielded him like the weapon the council thought Lando was, and helpe him defeat evil to save humanity.

Yet how could he let him die when Sebastian viewed the teenager as a sort of son after spending a year protecting him and helping him as best as he could?

"It's the prophecy," Sebastian admitted softly because he didn't know what else to say, "The Slayer will face The Master and die at his hands. The Hellmouth will open, and the apocalypse will come"

Lando stared at him for a moment before he started to laugh hysterically. His eyes were wet with tears that never fell as he backed away when Sebastian stepped forward.

"I quit"

"Lando, you can't -"

"I am EIGHTTEEN, Sebastian", Lando threw his arms out as the tears finally fell, "I...I should be worried about college applications and crushes. I should be playing video games with my friends, and...and doing normal fucking things. I should be allowed to live"

"Lando, we can-", Sebastian started, trying to soothe him as tears formed in his own eyes and his heart began to break.

"I don't want to die, Sebastian", Lando whispered as he shook his head, "I'm eighteen, and I don't want to die so find someone else. Anyone else. I don't care about being the Slayer, I don't. I want to live"

Sebastian finally managed to approach him as Lando finally broke. He had seen Lando fight vampires, demons, possessed friends, enemies that they had no right surviving, but this had broken him as he managed to pull Lando into a hug.

He was so small as he struggled against him for a moment before all the fight seemed to leave him and he just cried.

"I deserve to live"

Sebastian cast his eyes up to the ceiling to blink away his own tears as he thought of losing Lando, of having to explain to Jenson that his son was never coming home and would never get to grow up.

This moment wasn't about him. It wasn't about the grief and loss he already felt as he let Lando cry it out because they both knew that at the end of the day, Lando wouldn't fight this propechy because that meant leaving his friends to die.

"You deserve to live", Sebastian agreed, "I am so sorry Lando"

[wolveria]

You've got more planned for Yielding???? 👀 Also gimmie Revan x Reader I love me some old republic 👌

Sadly no, that's just the original doc for Yielding XD I'm sorry!! But you know I've got more Crosshair lurking in the wings

YESSSS BABE I'LL GET YOU SOME REVAN GOODNESS

The bridge was dark, empty of crew, which was odd considering the ship was currently being boarded by the enemy.

You wouldn’t have seen it with your eyes, the light too dim and sporadic, but you sensed the presence, as old and familiar as a much-beloved blanket, though this one had grown strangling around your neck.

The dark robed figure waited, motionless, in front of the massive viewport. He’d been… expecting you? A small, hopeful voice tried to make itself heard, but you crushed it down before it could speak. You gathered your focus and calmed your emotions. There were too many to name, vying to be at the top, but there was only one that ruled the others.

Rage.

You unclipped your lightsaber from your belt.

“Hello, Master.”

You ignited the blade.

The hood of the figure slightly turned, its wearer moving his head in your direction, and words filtered through a mask, twisting the once familiar voice into something alien and cruel.

“Not the greeting I expected.”

You shifted on your feet, one sliding back as the other moved forward. Readying your position.

“But it is the one you deserve.”

He paused, another tilt of his head.

“Perhaps.”

You crept closer, blue lightsaber raised in a defensive position, watching for the snake to strike.

“By order of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi High Council, you will surrender yourself into my custody.”

“For what crimes?” he asked, amusement flitting at the edges.

“Treason,” you spit out, unable to keep your own tone anywhere near civil, rage bleeding into the words. “Sedition. Conspiracy to kidnap high-ranking officials, assassination of high-ranking senators, and war crimes against the galaxy.”

“That’s quite the list.”

You wanted to bare your teeth, but that would carry you forward to the action of biting.

“I’m not done. You will also be charged with the near complete genocide of the people of Telos IV.”

Finally, some emotion other than amusement.

“I did not order that bombardment.”

The slope of his shoulders were stiff against the constellations and battle outside, bursts of orange and yellow where lasers and torpedoes hit their targets.

“And yet, it was carried out in your name,” you said, voice low, the words simmering around the hum of your lightsaber as if the blade agreed. “For your glory. Don’t turn away from it now, Lord of the Sith.”

He still wouldn’t turn to look at you, as if unconcerned there was a lightsaber at his back, and his lofty words confirmed it.

“Where are the rest of my jailors?”

You bristled.

“They’re coming.”

In the distance was an explosion somewhere on the ship, and your old master tilted his head once again.

“Yes. I’m sure they’ll be here any moment.”

You leapt at him before you realized what you were doing and swung your lightsaber down.

A crimson lightsaber ignited and arched over his head, blade parallel to the ground, and he blocked your attack without even bothering to turn around.

You pulled back your blade and swung again, but he ducked under it, moving behind you as you spun. He brought his crimson weapon down and hit your blade so hard you were forced back against the cold transparisteel of the viewport.

The severe mask stared down at you from inches away, reflecting the blue and red dance of the locked lightsabers. Even after all your training since he left, Revan was still stronger than you. Faster. More experienced.

But he hadn’t been hurt the way you had. He didn’t have your pain.

The rage of his betrayal, the agony of his abandonment, the loss of your old mentor, you poured it all into your limbs, your strength, and with a scream in your throat, you shoved him back.

[trickstarbrave]

What do you think would have happened if Nerevar survived Red Mountain? How would the Chimer treat him?

i think i've mentioned this before but. i think it would have gone uhhhhhhh bad.

see before nerevar, the chimer and dwemer did not get along. the chimer were typically quite religious and worshipped the good daedra. the dwemer didnt actively worship any daedra or aedra; they had no need for it and would at times actively antagonize their chimer cousins' gods to prove the gods were fallible.

but the dwemer had a lot of power behind them in terms of machines and a lot of land, stretching underground between vvardenfell to the heart of skyrim. and the chimer were currently being occupied by the nords for reasons they didn't know. if nerevar wanted to truly drive them out he would need to do more than just unite resdayn but ally himself with the dwemer to bring them into their cause and fight united. which a lot of chimer probably didn't like. they didnt get along with the dwemer at all and the chimer and dwemer did not see eye to eye. but they came around to the idea because nerevar basically said "look. dumac and i are friends despite our differences. we have a common goal. if we can be friends and work together, you can tolerate the dwemer and learn we can be so much more if we set aside our differences."

when the dwemer were found to be making the numidium it was seen as a huge betrayal. not just of nerever, but to every chimer. this was proof the dwemer could not be trusted, at least to them. i dont personally believe kagrenac had any ill intentions making the numidium besides personal defense and basically as a way to prove they could do so even if they wanted to. we dont know if tensions between the chimer and dwemer were rising or if this came out of no where either. but i cannot stress enough how dangerous the numidium is: it is catastrophic if used incorrectly. in c0da it has literally destroyed nirn and made it inhabitable. this is like finding out your allies who live on the same land as you have made fucking nuclear weapons "just because" and then have actively denied having it and call you insane for saying they did. it looked like, to the chimer, the dwemer were intending to annihilate them.

which then brings into question nerevar. nerevar was the most hurt by dumac denying the existence of the numidium (again we dont know if he knew or not, he could have been ignorant to what kagrenac was doing), and nerevar was the one who rallied them into war against the dwemer. the war of the first council was absolutely horrible. house hlaalu, one of the founding great houses of morrowind, lost almost all their warriors. entire families were wiped out. the dwemer machines were decimating people. we dont know what exactly kagrenac did to the heart of lorkhan--maybe it was a last ditch effort to power the numidium and wipe all the chimer out, maybe it was to try and help the dwemer escape to a higher plane of existence, maybe it was something else entirely. but they all vanished. the war was officially over--except now there might be nords and orcs also involved i guess so there may be stragglers theyre dealing with on that front.

if nerevar survived entirely, i think it's very obvious what would have happened. because it was his idea to ally with the dwemer in the first place, it would be seen as his fault the war of the first council happened. sure, they probably wouldnt have driven out the nords, but by this point i think a lot of chimer would have probably believed there was another way of accomplishing it without giving any power to the dwemer.

sermon 11 talks about this actually in the 36 sermons i think:

There is once more the case of the symbolic and barren. The true prince that is cursed and demonized will be adored at last with full hearts. According to the Codes of Mephala there can be no official art, only fixation points of complexity that will erase from the awe of the people given enough time. This is a secret that hides another. An impersonal survival is not the way of the ruling king. Embrace the art of the people and marry it and by that I mean secretly have it murdered.

here vivec is talking about how people's opinions always change. a true king understands people cannot be fixated on one thing forever. if your people love say, skooma, loosen legal restrictions. then people can have more and more. but take care to introduce a new, more potent drug, in a way murdering the skooma trade people so beloved. (analogy from the new whirling school who discusses the 36 sermons in more depth)

and nerevar is a folk hero: the mer who united the great houses of resdayn. the beloved warlord. the champion of azura. the son of boethiah. man who embodies the ideals of the good daedra. he has enamored his people, their biggest fixation and pride. what happens when he has fallen?

vivec knew (or perhaps later reasons) that killing nerevar was the best way to keep control over the people. make him a martyr, a saint, a hero. then move on to something else. and while that is probably exploitative, i can't help but see some of the logic in it. because without that, uhhhhh it would have gone to shit. the people would have all blamed him, and wanted nerevar's head on a pike. they would blame him for all of the deaths in the war of the first council, because there would be no war of the first council if nerevar had never made the council in the first place. maybe the dwemer would have never found the heart and made the numidium if he didn't give them the power and resources to do so.

and then the great houses, who were already only barely united, would dissolve into infighting and old rivalries, especially with new power vacuums being opened up within the houses and larger government. people would be fighting and killing each other for petty squabbles, and also because: there is a fucking giant world ending weapon in that mountain they want to get their hands on by any means necessary and figure out how to power.

as much as i hate to admit it, killing nerevar and becoming gods might have in fact been the best outcome. otherwise i do think the chimer would have wiped themselves and at least half of tamriel out (if they didn't cause landfall entirely). nerevar would have died by the hands of a mob, or lived in exile and disgrace, being blamed for the fall of his people. with the tribunal they control the tools of kagrenac, keep the secret of the heart of lorkhan, and guarded the heart. by introducing new living gods who could preform miracles they shifted away the anger enough to keep people from outright trying to destroy every other faction in morrowind/resdayn. they made that anger productive, and made a new scapegoat with house dagoth (which. also was shitty of them).

i think killing nerevar was a mercy. preserving his legacy and honor rather than letting him live in disgrace. keeping the peace of their people. protecting them. it was horrible, yes, but there was no real solution where everyone was happy and no one dies. not in this story. i have speculations on if the tribunal knew that at the time or not, or if they were motivated solely by personal gain, but it is the truth.

maybe there were other ways out and other ways the story could have played out. other solutions where nerevar could keep the peace and stop the fighting. but after the tribunal used the tools (called "the red moment") history kinda rewrote itself and the world shifted so that was the ONLY outcome that ever could and would exist. so it is impossible to say. maybe circumstances in a different timeline could be more favorable, but i doubt it.

tl;dr: the chimer would have wanted nerevar fucking dead and then killed each other and potentially a bunch of other people with their in fighting and race to get to the numidium. nerevar would die or live in disgrace being branded as the man who was responsible for the downfall of the velothi people. the chimer were petty and rude and violent and vengeful and would not have taken it laying down.

[mollysunder]

Ekko, Jinx, & Viktor: How Do They Carry the Legacy of Their Mentors

Zaun’s three most prominent minds, Ekko, Jinx, and Viktor, have been, or soon will be, cross a threshold they can never turn back from paths once Jinx’s rockets hits the council. Zaun and Piltover will never be the same, neither will the characters. It’s already been stated that the cast will likely become the opposite of who they were during the first season. And I don't think it was supposed to mean a personality flip, it's just the emphasis of traits that were more in the background in the first season, but under these new conditions become more prominent. Everyone on the show has a strong enough character that you can see the wires that make them run and the connections that keep them going. I think the best way to understand where they are going forward is to look at the mentor figures that are or had laid their foundations for them.

Jinx & Silco

They’re the easiest to start with. Jinx and Silco had one of the most complex relationships within the first season. They came together out of a desperation for connection and comfort based on the shared trauma of abandonment, and together they became a family. Silco saw so much of himself in Jinx that he thought he could help her the way he helped himself after Vander’s betrayal. He gave her resources for her weapons projects, he taught her to be vicious like he was, trusted her to understand and handle his special operations, and he gave Jinx the love and validation she constantly sought. No one can argue that they didn’t love each other deeply, he just helped her like he helped Zaun, in a way that hurt her.

The root of their toxicity (outside of the violence and murder that permeates their circumstances) is the that fact Silco treated Jinx like he treated himself. Jinx is an entirely separate person from Silco, with her own set sensitivities and struggles with mental illness. On top of that no matter how often he evangelizes the success of his choice to sever the bonds of his past he couldn’t do it either, he still struggled. Despite Silco and Jinx’s volatility, Silco still chose Jinx over Zaun, not the idea of Jinx with all of the weakness of Powder gone, just her. Silco gave up his future for Zaun for Jinx’s life to be as she is. Upon Silco’s death Jinx, by herself, chose to definitively end any intrigue or negotiation that would be in the way of Zaun’s creation.

Jinx chose to carry on with Silco’s dream, not the way he would have done it, just in her own way. Now Jinx is alone, at least emotionally, and she’s left with Silco’s shimmer empire, his associates, pissed off chembarons, soon to be pissed of Piltovans, enforcers, Sevika, firelights, Caitlyn, her sister and probably Noxian interlopers (maybe even Ionians too) on her case. But if every major character will appear the opposite, Jinx will probably be able to handle it. 

Throughout the first season Jinx was struggled to gain the approval of the ones she loved most, and it kept her interactions insulated to a small circle of people. But now Silco's dead and Jinx’s decided who she is, and that means it's going brutal for literally everyone else. The brief times Jinx is around people she doesn't care about she easily overwhelms them every time, not even physically in Thieram's case. Silco even took cues from her to whip the chembarons away from Finn's attempt to foment dissent. When that scene happened I took it to mean, Silco learned from Jinx as much she learned from learned from him how to manipulate and terrorize people.

Without her struggle for acceptance after recieving full validation, Jinx's left with just herself and what she and Silco built together. Jinx already took the first shot, she knew her actions would lead to at least open conflict. She's going to make Zaun happen through her own more violent means. Jinx already knows most of the ropes. I honestly think it’ll be a 50/50 split between chembarons who want to kill her vs chembarons who think she’d be too much trouble to kill and easier to manipulate. If she really internalized what Silco taught her she can whip them into the shape she wants, it just won’t be easy.

Viktor & Singed

In their first meeting Singed recognize Viktor’s engineering prowess and social isolation and decided to have him work as an assistant. Their relationship breaks down as a young Viktor becomes horrified at the suffering Singed’s experiment causes on Rio. When Viktor returns to Singed’s lab desperate for help as he runs out of time, we as the audience recognize in their exchange that Viktor is going down a similar path that Singed did.

All we know in the Arcane universe about Singed is that he was once a scholar at Piltover academy, he and Heimerdinger were colleagues, and he had a daughter. We know that his experiments caused him to be ostracized from Piltover’s academic community for likely violating the Ethos. But with the existence of his daughter (hinted at being Orianna), we have to speculate how these factors played into his fall from grace. When did his research take priority over the suffering it caused? Shimmer certainly helps as a restricted medicine, but he doesn't care about the "side effects". Was he in a position where his work saved his daughter, but the decision destroyed his reputation? Does he believe that his work will unlock some new breakthrough of human understanding? Was it arrogance? Pure curiosity? Who really knows. What we do know is that Viktor could put himself in harms way, but in the case of Sky, could not sacrifice others.

And that's the thing about Viktor, he's willing to help himself at his at his own expense, but not at the cost of others. He genuinely wants to use Hextech to help others, but with his limited time left he realized how little he's managed to accomplish in Piltover, and when he does do something it's diminished (Heimerdinger). Viktor has achieved so much and helped so little with the Hextech he and Jayce created. And this must all eat at him because his ability to create things for himself and others is where he derives most of his self-esteem, his one true source of pride. Viktor may be the introverted one of the Hextech pair but his self-imposed restraint from attention is learned. He knows what people see when they look at him, worse so in Piltover. It's only when he's in his element is he willing to expose himself to others, it's how he was willing to partner with Jayce.

In the aftermath of Jinx's rocket, Piltover won't be hospitable to him any longer. Once his research on the Hexcore and dabblings in Shimmer come to light he will be cast out of Piltover (if they don't send him to Stillwater first). He wanted save himself with the Hexcore, in trying he killed Sky, and yet he couldn't destroy it after she died. He chose to attempt suicide, but he couldn't destroy his own work, because it's such a fundamental part of him. Viktor can only find justification in keeping his work alive, and he will in Zaun, where he will meet those suffering from injury and illness from Piltover's exploitation. The border between Viktor's conviction to help other vs how his engineering prowess makes up his sense of self worth will blur as he realizes he can help more people if he just keeps pushing. From what I understand the Machine Herald takes on prophet-like status within Zaunite cults, that Viktor does and does not embrace at times. He will push past a point of no return, he'll just do it with the greater good in his mind.

Ekko & Heimerdinger

These two are the latest arrivals. Honestly, they’re the oddest pair. A former Piltovan councilman and a young Zaunite community leader working together and learning from each other. Two people who helped create something amazing in the face of a crisis, Heimerdinger built Piltover to escape the Rune Wars, while Ekko founded the Firelights as a refuge from the Shimmer epidemic. Heimerdinger and Ekko meet because Heimerdinger’s been ejected from the council and has decided to finally visit the neglected half of the city he co-founded. He meets an injured Ekko by chance and helps him back to the Firelight’s Hideout where he’s amazed at what they were capable of building for themselves. It’s supposed to represent Ekko finding a new ally as connects with people who want to help Piltover and Zaun, while Heimerdinger is righting wrongs working with people in Zaun to hopefully improve things.

Even though we see that Ekko has managed to become a leader to a close knit and dedicated community, he’s had to grow up abruptly to meet the brutality of Silco’s reign. Despite having a community of his peers, based on his reaction to Vi’s hug, he hasn’t been able to find comfort and support in an adult figure in a long time. In theory someone like Heimerdinger, who’s persona screams gradfatherly figure, could be a source of emotional support that he’s been missing for so long (depending if his biological parents alive, the status of which is apparently a spoiler). But the glaring flaw in that idea is that Heimerdinger has consistently failed people throughout the story.

If we can briefly sidestep the way Heimerdinger’s leadership over 200 years has led to rampant inequality and a militarized police force meant to harass half of his city’s inhabitants, there’d still be Viktor. Sure Heimerdinger gave Viktor the position as his assistant at the prestigous Piltover Academy, but Viktor not only earned it, but was frustrated with it. Heimerdinger wasn't offering Viktor him new opportunities, just the frustration of administrative work. They likely knew each other for years, so when Viktor diagnosis gave him less than a year left, how does he comfort him. By telling him he won't be remembered after putting the breaks on his projects meant to help the half the side of the city constantly being poisoned like Viktor was.

We know characters will change next season so I can see Heimerdinger realizing he could do more for the people of Zaun with Ekko's help and understand urgency over caution more. I can see Ekko finding an adult to finally let in and help him. I can see it because Arcane as a series doesn't seem to investigate the power dynamics between Piltover and Zaun too deeply. Maybe Heimerdinger will offer him and all his friends admission into Piltover Academy to keep them safe, and he'll refuse for himself similar to his League origin story. Heimerdinger would still think that Piltover and Zaun could remain united through some flexible compromise, because he never looks at the root of the problem, which is Piltover.

Some theorize that when characters complete their arc, that's when they’re most likely to die. In Arcane, the most dangerous position to be in is when you care about someone and try to do the right thing, this show loves to kill characters for that. Ekko out of everyone is the one with the most to lose, especially people, so for him to vulnerable in this next season would lead to disaster. Ekko was already shot in the chest by Marcus after listening to Caitlyn and nearly blown up to save her and Vi. Then led Heimerdinger, a well known councilman, to his hideout. Frankly, it's in Ekko' best interest to distance himself from Heimerdinger because memories run long and resentment goes higher for Piltover, especially once they retaliate against Zaun. If it gets out Ekko has been surrounding himself with enforcers, a former councilman, a future councilman (Caitlyn), and a snitch (Vi), he's going to put his community at risk. Every time someone from Zaun tries to work with Piltover it's a disaster for the Zaunite, look at Vander and Silco. If he's going to risk himself and his community the consequences shouldn't be so one-sided. If Ekko is to survive next season either he needs to reject Heimerdinger’s ways or Heimerdinger has to change for Ekko to help Zaun for the better.

[titisorriso]

Chapter 7/To Be A Hero (Wild Skies AU)

  The wind howled once more over the edge of the mountain. Berk was not the biggest island in the arquipelago, but it sure had some tall rocks for its size. Astrid's hair was getting a bit longer than she normally would allow it to be, and it flowed towards the horizon as she attempted to clear her mind.

  Three weeks ago, Hiccup kicked her and her friends onto an island that was within reach to the patrols of Berk. She was rescued, and for a long while, Ruffnut and Snotlout did not utter a word to her. Then one day, Stoick asked to see her privately, showing her both a letter proposing an alliance with the south and a report delivered by Snotlout implying that the warrior was betraying the Hooligans. Stoic gave her a choice, either deal with her treason and put her on trial or keep her as the commander responsible for ensuring a diplomatic encounter with the south; to make sure any rumors of betrayal were thrown away.

  The choice was obvious. Her own friends believed her a liar, a traitor, they were hurt, and if a trial happened, she would end up exiled, or banished from the place she called home, and yet... As she read over the south's proposal for truce, there was the clause that would ensure no one thought that she was working with the dragon lover.

"The termination and imprisonment of the Night Fury and the rider known as Night Stutter."

She was short of breath, wanting to hurl her stomach out and feeling like a thousand tiny glass pieces were clattering and shattering in her mind. Stoick noticed the paralyzed woman, getting up and speaking with what almost felt like hatred, an air of disappointment, a look of disbelief.

"I don't know your relationship with that rider, but whatever it is, know that it will end once he is publicly executed."

He reached forward, putting a hand to her shoulder as he could no longer hold his affection back.

"Astrid... This village needs a leader, and you are all i have left. All we have left. We can't win a war with the south; they have weapons that we've never seen before... Exploding metal and inventions that we can't beat with arrows and axes."

He sat down on his council spot. Leaning back as he dismissed her. She clutched the letter, shoving it on her belt.

"... I won't fail."

"You better not."

  The response was sent to the south, and today they would arrive. She took a deep breath in. All her issues seemed futile. Everything could be solved if she would just say it, the identity of the Night Stutter, the reason she was alive, the reason why she hadn't killed a dragon in weeks. Astrid still felt no sympathy towards the beasts, but killing them... She was scared that he would see. She could never tell when Hiccup was nearby, if he was still watching, if maybe he was waiting to come back, if she wouldn't have to do any of this, and out of the kindness of his heart, he would come out by himself.

 - I'm pathetic.

She whispered to herself, laying down and staring at the sky. The clear morning almost felt like the gods taunting her, showing that the world went on even with her world crumbling. The things she felt, the things that she was terrified to name, they took up everything inside. Every corner and curve. What was it? She hated him, hated him to the point it hurt to do so, because it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right to hate him, to call him enemy, that shy stupid boy from when she was a child was now a wild man with the same naive intentions and worldview he always had. He wasn't perfect, but he didn't claim to be. He wasn't always right, but he was so willing to admit his wrongs. In the end, what really bothered Astrid was how, there was no way, in any version of their meeting that she created in her mind, that he was the bad guy. Hiccup was not the evildoer, the threat to Berk, the problem of the arquipelago. He helped people, he didn't kill anyone that didn't deserve it, and he preached peace.

Peace.

A viking speaking of peace and tranquility was a crazy thought, but Hiccup was never like the other vikings anyway.

No, what really made her curl up, cry, shake and feel wrathful was the simple question that came with all this wondering. If he was not the bad guy, and he is her enemy, then what is Astrid?

Days and nights she spent remembering all the gruesome things she had done, all the people she had lost, and no normal viking would see those as bad things, but she felt weirdly evil for doing them. She blamed Hiccup. Even before she knew he was alive, she blamed the boy that died speaking of doing things a different way. With each kill, each dragon felled, she would hear that voice, in the back of her neck, whispering in fear.

"Am i doing the right thing?"

She got up, breathing heavy, she couldn't afford doubt. She stared onto the horizon, remembering all of Hiccup's stories of different lands, different people, all these things she would never get to experience, all because of how rotten her heart was. At the end of the day, that's what it always came down to. A heart like hers couldn't be saved, and whatever would happen, there was no turning back. At least that's what she believed.

  At noon, they arrived. Led by a man named Johann, the dragon hunters of the south arrived. Intricate weapons and chains, boats bigger than Astrid had ever seen, harpoons coated with some sort of green liquid and always pointed at the sky. The man was cunning, she immediately could tell his sweet words towards Stoick were always hiding wicked intentions. His men looked as mean as they come, no expression or emotion as they observed Berk as if it was nothing but a piece of land. Behind Astrid were her friends, with newfound confidence, happy they would work with the south instead of against them, but the valkyrie was having none of it.

 - Ah! I assume this is your fearless commander! - He approached Astrid, extending a hand- I hear you have some exciting information about the Night Stutter.

Astrid stared at his palm, her characteristic frown deepening while she forced herself to shake his hand. Everything in the name of diplomacy.

 - He's stronger than you think. Your weapons wouldn't even touch him.

He let go of her hand, staring at her with a weird glint in his eye:

 - Ha! The way you say it, it almost sounds like a threat.

Stoick put an arm around his shoulders. Taking his attention:

 - Come, Johann. I will show you around the island. Afterall, today is Astrid's ascension to the title of thane! She needs to prepare. Fishlegs, Tuffnut, with me.

The two went to give the man his tour. Fishlegs already spouting about the history and legacy of Berk while Tuffnut spoke about the festivities and ale. Ruffnut scattered to do something else, but Snotlout stayed behind.

 - Hey, Astrid...

She turned to him, her frown softening.

 - What? Do you need anything?

Snotlout started to rub the back of his neck, embarrassed, ashamed.

 - I... We've been fighting together for years. You've saved my hide more times than i can count and... And i know that you don't like people going over your head.

 - Speak, Snotlout.

She didn't have time for his self-pity. There was already too much on her plate, this man's feelings did not need to be added to her load.

 - I'm just sorry, okay?! I'm sorry i doubted you, i'm sorry i thought you would ever betray Berk it's just...

He looked at her, waiting for her to interrupt him, but when she showed no signs that she would do so, he continued.

 - I've been your friend for very long, and not once have i seen you... Look at someone. For a moment i thought you were incapable of affection!... And then there was the island and... Astrid, your eyes were... So bright.

She punched him, he fell back, yelling as he held his cheek:

 - OUCH!! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!

He looked at her and froze. Her face was unsure, scared, a realization that she didn't want to have been just forced by Snotlout.

 - Astrid?...

Tears started to fall from her eyes as she clutched her fists close to her chest. It had finally been too much.

Snotlout slowly approached her, his hands holding her shoulders as he kept a safe distance, mostly for his safety.

 - Astrid, are you okay?... What's wrong?

Astrid didn't cry. At least not in front of anyone. Snotlout stared at her, not knowing what to do or say.

A vase shattering made them flinch, Astrid suddenly gaining her composure back, and wiping away her tears. She pushed Snotlout back.

 - I'm fine.

He wanted to say something but knew that wasn't the best choice. Astrid started walking towards her cabin, but for a moment, she turned to Snotlout again.

 - ...The thing about friendship, Snotlout, is that, sometimes, it requires us to break some rules. Clearly, that wasn't something you were willing to do.

Astrid stared at the water basin; her reflection scared her. The woman in the water looked soft, weak, needy. She couldn't afford that, not if she wanted Berk to thrive. She grabbed her knife, the sharp blade gleaming against the light. Sharp cuts through her hair, the length decreasing once more, dark coal was smeared under her eyes, other tints and paints doing the ritualistic marks necessary for the ascension. She stared at the basin once more. She hated that face, but at least this one she was used to, it felt right, familiar.

She held her knife as she left the cabin. The pyre, the rumbling of the drums, the chants and the smell of ale. It was suffocating, but it felt intoxicating at the same time. As if the entirety of the party was moving inside her. She closed her eyes, feeling it all muddle together. Stoick pulled her near the council, putting her in front, her dazed eyes focusing as she put on her façade. The chief's voice boomed over everyone, the silence falling on his people as they paid attention to each word uttered.

 - When a warrior proves themselves, the gods show us that strength, wit and power come from the rage we allow ourselves to carry in the name of those lost. We put our lives in the battlefield, hoping that the axe that fell us will aid us into Valhalla. Today, we accept as thane our most prestigious fighter. Our valkyrie, who showed promise since the moment she was born. Swinging her axe around, showing her skills and mastery, she proved that the dragons are beasts with no heart, honor or mind. The Exterminator! The Savior of Berk! The Tamer of the Scorching Plague!

Her heart thumped inside her chest, straightening her back, she faked pride, her scowl growing as to intimidate anyone that would accuse her of anything other than happiness. She started counting the seconds, wondering how long she would have to stay here, looking at the faces of everyone she was lying to. Her people, her family, her clan. She closed her eyes, the noises growing louder. Stoick's voice broke through:

 - And! To show us her prowess, as our ancestors have done before us, the thane will fall a beast in front of our eyes!

Her eyes shot open. This was a tradition, but one they haven't done in years, and not like this, not in the middle of everyone. Many thanes had come, but none were asked this unless the arena was available. She turned to Stoick, oblivious of her despair, he gave her a warm smile. She looked down, staring at the knife she clutched so tight. The blade was no longer shining, only reflecting the space. The heat of the pyre was becoming too much, her breath got caught in her throat, her eyes felt heavy, her face felt numb. Then, as if to wake her to the situation, a pained melody that was quickly silenced.

There was the Death Song.

Surrounded in chains, covered with pins and metal. It seemed younger than most Death Songs. Johann laughed delighted:

 - Oh, it was such a privilege to have seen these beauties in their natural habitat. Did you know they encase their prey in amber?! Even eat other dragons the nasty things. This one is on me, by the way. To show our commitment to an alliance with the Hooligans! Go ahead, thane. Have at him!

Astrid shivered. Many of Johann's men held down the dragon, the beast trying desperately to flee. Desperate. She knew that feeling. Knew it a bit too well. A viking pushed her forward, she took it as a sign to start walking. Everyone yelled and cheered, begging for blood, for the death of this dragon. The warrior took careful steps forward, looking the creature dead in the eye. The dragon started looking back.

He stopped struggling.

The mounds of viking felt like walls of shadow, like a barrier stopping her from deviating from her fate. This fate.

She kneeled in front of the Death Song. The dragon's pupils grew, hope filling his face. His eyes then saw her still holding the knife, and suddenly, Astrid wondered if dragons would cry if they could. She looked around... and touched her forehead to the dragon's horn. People slowly stopped cheering. Stoic observed, with a certain annoyance and uncertainty. Doubt sprouted in his mind as he realized what was happening.

Slowly, the Death Song closed his eyes, accepting his fate. Astrid whispered rites, a prayer to help him reach Valhalla, the vikings were silently observing, their tone suddenly changing.

No longer was this the death of a beast, but the execution of a warrior.

 - Let the warriors here, in the hall come forth, Thine and mine, for the need is mighty, If haply the queen from death they may hold, Till her fearful thoughts with time shall fade.

The sound of flesh being cut, the sound of liquid spilling onto the floor. The dragon had stopped moving. Astrid slowly rose, hands and blade stained. She slowly turned, her eyes finding Johann, and then seeing Stoick, his face said everything she needed to hear. His anger was no longer turned to her, as he realized what he was about to accept. The Valkyrie cleaned her blade against her big gloves, staring at Johann with a fire in her eyes.

 - We are vikings. We are people of tradition and religion. We recognize the power and fight in our foes. We hunt these creatures, but they will always fight back, they will always give us battle and honor. What that man is proposing... It is not about our protection, it is not about our tradition, it is about money.

Johann looked around, noticing the sudden shift in emotion. He got up, slowly moving towards his group.

 - I... I have no clue what you are talking about! If dragons die, won't it help you?! So, what if we get some natural resources from them on the meantime! These creatures have no soul, no essence to walk into Valhalla or whatever idiotic beliefs you have!

Stoic took a step forward, his frame being enough to get Johann to run behind his people.

 - I was so blinded by the prospect of protection, of getting some sort of leverage over these creatures that i forgot who the dragon hunters were. Your efforts were what almost extinguished our sheep, what almost ruined all the forests and farming land throughout the arquipelago. We might be at war with these beasts, but every single Hooligan will die before denying them the right to fight. What happened here today did prove Astrid's capability of being Thane, it did show her how deserving she is of the title... And she proved so by showing me who you truly are.

Stoick stepped closer to him, two of his men tried to push the man back, only to get themselves throw out of the way without struggle. The chief looked down at an angry Johann:

 - Leave, you rat. There will be no peace with the south. If you want our lands, you will have to take it from us.

Johann scowled; it reminded Astrid of when her mom told her stories of gremlins who would get upset when they failed their trickery. The man snapped his fingers, his people taking the Death Song's body away as he retreated to his ship. His last words reverberated in the Valkyrie's mind:

 - We'll see where your alliance truly lies when your village burns, Thane.

  Astrid put her hand on the tree, trying to find balance, puking from the nerves of everything that had happened. Her hands and clothes were still stained with blood. They invited her to stay, to enjoy the festivities, saying that it was her day, but all she could think about was the oncoming war. She walked to the forest, far from the music and drinks and people. She walked towards a small lake on this area, inside a crater. Climbing down, she stopped holding back the tears, taking off her gloves and her cotton shirt to wash, throwing the heavy armor to the side as the salty droplets fell down her cheeks.

 - Shit... Shit...

The blood refused to wash off. She knew how to wash blood off, but her brain was so confused she wished the gods would give her a miracle and save her the trouble. The warrior wanted to erase this from her mind.

A sound of branches breaking made her hold still. With a slow motion, she put her shirt back on. Astrid already knew who it was. Her voice came out weaker than she wanted it to be. Scared. Scared of what he would think of her after that:

 - ... How much did you see?

Quiet steps approached. She started wondering if it really was him, if it maybe was someone else, maybe one of Johann's men followed her, maybe it was Snotlout wanting to apologize once more.

Then his hand reached her shoulder. He kneeled behind her, his forehead resting against her neck. His voice was quiet and gentle.

 - ... I'm sorry.

His arms wrapped around her waist, fully hugging her as she weakly heaved.

 - You could have just come back... None of this would have happened if you came back...

 - I know... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

They stayed there, waiting, enjoying this rare moment of respite, where they allowed each other to cry. The two unbreakable and immovable forces letting themselves be soft for one another. They felt it again, as if they were trapped in time, as if the rest of the world had gone away for a single second, just so they could feel that peace, that comfort they had been craving for so long.

Astrid had finally stopped crying. Feeling slightly embarrassed by her position, she shook him off. He cleared his throat and sat looking at some other spot, body fully turned away from her. Astrid was the first to break the silence:

 - We're at war with the south.

 - Yeah... I'm pretty sure i told you to not do that.

She chuckled. Noticing her amusement, she quickly changed her expression again. They might be civil now, but they were still enemies. She wondered if anyone else in the world had to constantly remind themselves that.

 - So, still not helping i assume?

Hiccup sighed, almost bored, as if the question was tedious.

 - I have been helping, and i will continue to do so, but that's not really the question you're asking, i assume.

The Valkyrie clicked her tongue annoyed. He knew her too well, and it was infuriating. She started splashing the lake. Hiccup spoke with a smile:

 - You know... This is the place where i tamed Toothless.

Astrid looked up, taking in the surroundings of her secret spot, but apparently not hers at all.

 - ... You told me about it... I wonder if maybe i didn't feel that this was your spot.

 - Feel? What do you mean?

She sighed, hugging her legs ashamed, but not feeling the urge to hide her feelings.

 - When you... Disappeared. I felt myself going to places you liked. It was... Cathartic. Sometimes it felt like... Like you were still here.

Hiccup turned towards her, moving a bit closer.

 - If it... makes you feel better... My heart always was. I-i mean, i know that won't change all the pain i caused you and... Everyone but... I never forgot you.

Astrid looked at him, a scoffing smile tugging at her lips:

 - Hah! That almost sounded like courting, Night Stutter.

 - I love you.

What? She laughed before processing the words. Turning away to throw some water at him, but he stayed unmoving. Serious. Her smile slowly disappeared. She started stuttering, as if her mind was no longer there. He repeated it:

 - I love you, Astrid Hofferson. Always have.

She moved back instinctively. He stayed still, observing her reaction, trying to decipher her expression.

And then, she kicked him in the chest.

 - OUCH!! That hurt!

She got up quickly, Toothless came from the darkness, rushing towards the rider to check on him and quickly realizing he was fine. Astrid screamed, frustrated:

 - How-- How DARE YOU!!

 - Wait, what?! What did i do wrong?!

Hiccup got up, catching his breath. Astrid started pacing:

 - I-- YOU-- WE AREN'T--! I HATE you!

Hiccup laughed humorless, scratching his head:

 - Well, that's a bit harsh.

 - No, no, you don't understand! We're enemies!! You can't... I won't... SHUT UP, HICCUP!!

She started marching away, going back to the village, hiding her beet red face.

 - Wait, Astrid! Just... Just wait a moment, did i do something wrong?! Why are you angry at me?!

She whipped to look at him, he stopped, noticing he fucked up.

 - You help dragons. I kill dragons. You have no responsibilities. I have a whole VILLAGE to take care of! You can't love me. You can't love me while going against everything i am! Everything i believe!

He scoffed, a bit annoyed:

 - Oh, really? Do dragon killers cry after murdering one of them? Do they second guess and give them their rites before sending them to Valhalla? I saw you waver, i saw you... I saw you talking to Snotlout about me. About the way you look at me; and although i don't appreciate him getting that close... He did help you realize what you feel about me.

Boiling anger. Astrid took a step closer, her whole demeanor shifting as Hiccup felt like he stepped on a trap. If there was one thing the woman didn't appreciate, was being stalked like deer.

 - And what, pray tell, is it that i feel for you?

He gulped as Toothless whimpered and took a step back, predicting what Hiccup was going to say.

 - Well, you... Love me too... Right?...

Astrid basically growled at Hiccup, turning back and walking with purpose towards the village. Hiccup sighed, shaking his head at his social interaction and looking at his buddy, who looked pained with cringe.

 - Oh, shut up. At least i'm trying. Where's your love interest?

And he started following Astrid.

 - Astrid, wait.

 - Go away!

 - I'm not going to follow you into the village. I'm not that stupid.

She stopped. Silence fell onto the forest. She felt herself shiver, wondering what she could do, what would it take to get him back, to get him to willingly show himself to everyone. His voice broke through:

 - ... Why didn't you... Why didn't you just let him go?... You clearly didn't want him to die, you saw his eyes, you saw how afraid he was.

She felt their bubble bursting, reality seeping into their relationship. Whatever softness she felt before, now gone as she noticed how mournful he was about the dragon. Not about their bond, not about abandoning his family, but about the beast dying.

 - Well, Hiccup...

Her words were lathered with venom, she both didn't want to say this and wanted to yell it out to everyone. She remembered every interaction they had, every moment of coziness, of insecurity, of embarrassment; she also remembered all the years she spent crying, looking for revenge, all the people she lost during Stoick's crusade against dragons. The Valkyrie turned around, her icy eyes piercing Hiccup's previous confidence, all his "sures" becoming "maybes" in seconds.

 - Sometimes people must die so you can prove a point.

She didn't need to spell it out for him. He could interpret it just fine.

"It's all your fault."

She went back to the village, knowing now that she was a hero, any insecurities or doubts gone from her mind. She did what she should have done, what was right, and just like that, all the regret disappeared. She looked at her knife, a bit of blood still attached to it, but it shined more than ever before.

The second crack of hatred was carved into her heart.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Welp, i’ll be fully honest, i forgot i had this AU! College has been difficult and i ended up forgetting a lot of the stuff i posted on this tumblr, but i still have the drafts for this fic all ready, i just need to reread them and post them! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, there will definetely more coming soon. (As long as i don’t forget)

[zaunrising]

The moment Silco’s gaze shifted, Jinx couldn’t help her own immediate reaction. A split second look of hurt at first, that nearly whispered of a betrayal felt by her. She didn’t want to be talking to The Eye of Zaun, didn’t want to be talking to the chem-baron who ruled the lanes and as far as she was concerned Zaun itself push come to shove. She wanted to be talking to her father. Yet it seemed that even that was to be denied to her this evening. That look of hurt almost immediately vanished replaced by something that spoke of irritated disbelief before she lowered her head, and closed her eyes.

YoU Don’T EvEN HaVE A ReAL FaTHer. JuST A MoNSTeR WhO UsES YoU FOR HiS ENDS. A MonsTER WHO TOOK iN AnoTHER MoNSTER. NothiNG YoU DO WilL EvER BE EnOUgH. TwO MoNSTErS BoTH HuRTING ThE OthER UnTIL ThERE’s NotHiNG LeFT. ALL YOU DESERVE IS NOTHING!

Head lowered for one short brief moment Jinx rose her head once more refusing to listen to the voice scratching at the back of her mind. It wasn’t real, and she knew that. Her father was real, and sitting in front of her. She was real, the chair, the chomper in her hand, all of that was real. Her own frustration, and growing irritation inching closer to anger was also real. “Behave. Right.” Voice utterly void of inflection Jinx found herself unwilling, or perhaps incapable of pulling up another one of those masks she so often used to protect herself and in truth others as well with.

By the time Silco spoke of Jayce her face had dropped the smiles as well as the look of hurt replacing it rather something purely of appraisal, and consideration. If he wished to bring out the chem-baron in place of her father so be it. He would be greeted by the ice so cold she felt like it was burning her from the inside out sometimes that Jinx rarely showed to anyone.

“I nearly died because I didn’t want to let you down. Because I wanted to ensure you had what you needed for your Cause. I deserve respect as well for everything I’ve done for you.” That, in a sense, was the heart of the problem. Jinx in that moment felt neither cared for nor respected. “Since when do you have partners though? You have people that do things for you. Everyone, does things for you. Why does he get called a partner? Sevika is your deputy, Singed your sadist with a supply of drugs, blah blah blah. Some Piltie is a partner though? That’s interesting.” Even she did things for him. Even she wasn’t a partner in The Cause, a weapons maker and a killer and perhaps a guard, but not any kind of partner.

“What should I talk about? You haven’t asked any questions. Not since I came back. About anything. About The Bridge, Vi, Ekko, Singed, how I’m feeling about things, nothing. I’ll talk. When you tell me what it is you actually want to hear about… the weapons done. If that’s what you mean. I have the crystal, and everything else. It’s built, and ready to use. Maybe I should just go use it. That’s what weapons are for after all right? What’s what I’m for, right? To make things, and to use them, and to jinx those you need a permanent lesson taught to. Could probably blow up the entire council chamber with one shot. They’d fear us then, wouldn’t they? That’s what you want, right? For them to fear us enough they leave us alone.”

The sarcastic comments, along with Jinx mentioning they could always wait on him, struck another nerve. And, it was visible. Silco's annoyance grew, and he didn't feel the need to hide it. Not with her attitude.

Whilst fingertips rubbed against one another, his knuckles rested against his lips, all the while his gaze grew sharper, colder. There was a shift within Silco, and it was clear it was not the father who looked at her. No. It was The Eye of Zaun who stared back at her, with an intensity of a thousand blades.

“Behave.” Silco suddenly said, his voice calm as ever, though, with an iciness that was not often given to Jinx. He was starting to get fed up with her and her behaviour. “I'm still the one who takes care of you, so I expect you to treat me with respect.” His jaw clenched ever so slightly as his chin lowered. The way he could feel his patience slowly ebbing away was problematic. And, for a moment, he considered moving this conversation to tomorrow, where the both of them would have calmed down.

However, when Jinx mentioned Jayce once more, there was a subtle hint of a twitch at the side of his nose, followed by a huff. Instead of brushing her off, ice and fire were locked onto magenta. “He has joined the Cause. He has sworn fealty to me. Thus, he is now considered a partner, rather than a pawn.” His tongue briefly slipped over his jagged teeth, taking a moment in before raised a brow. “I answered your question. Now talk, Jinx.” Silco demanded.

This was going to be a long night.

[doctorofmagic]

Stephen’s indelible sin

For those who follow me for a while, you’re probably aware that I speak of guilt and self-loathing A LOT when it comes to Stephen. Once I wrote about his most terrible sin, but since then, I’ve gathered MORE information concerning Stephen and Hulk’s relationship. And, on a personal level, I think both fans and writers should explore this bond more, given their history.

Today, I’ll bring a detailed review on Stephen’s mistake and how it escalated into a pain that will never cease to exist within his heart and soul.

Warning: get your handkerchiefs ready, this is about to become sad quite rapidly.

We’ll begin our journey of angst in 1967, as seen in Strange Tales #156-157. In order to prevent Umar from walking on Earth, the Ancient One advises Stephen to release an evil and powerful demon called Zom. The demon is able to defeat Umar, but his strength is overwhelming, enough to give the Ancient One a hard time. Zom’s power is so evil and cursed that releasing him is a deed that catches the Living Tribunal’s (undue) attention. The Living Tribunal is so offended he wants to destroy Earth. And guess what? He blames Stephen, even though he was a mere apprentice imbued with blind obedience at that time.

The Living Tribunal imprisons Zom again, while Stephen convinces the deity that Earth deserves another chance. Stephen basically saves the planet, as usual, while Zom remains dormant for literally decades.

We’ll skip now to a not-so-canon event called “the birth of the Illuminati”, or “how Stephen ruined his life for good out of arrogance and toxic masculinity”. It’s uncertain when they first gathered to boss around the planet, but according to History Of The Marvel Universe #3 (2019) and New Avengers: Illuminati #1 (2007), they made this decision after the Kree/Skrull War, creating a secret council to answer for all humanity, even though humanity itself wasn’t aware of those dubious representatives. The Kree/Skrull war dates back to 1971, which means they spent decades plotting their hidden agendas.

Still, they’re heroes, right? They wouldn’t harm people, would they? They wouldn’t harm their friends or make mistakes. They’re supposed to be the smartest, most powerful people on Earth. Oh. Let me tell you something. Their very first mission was the reason why we had Civil War and Secret Invasion. Yes. It’s their fault that the Skrulls invaded Earth. And yes, Stephen is to blame because he was there with the group when they first threatned the Skrulls never to come back, or else they’d face them. Hah.

However, this is not his indelible sin. As you all know, what I consider an irreparable mistake was sending Hulk to Sakaar. And what’s even worse? It wasn’t the first time that Stephen tried to banish Hulk, as seen in The Incredible Hulk v1 #305 (1985).

But why is Stephen so haunted by banishing a menace? Because Hulk was, foremost, a dearest friend.

From Defenders v1 #12 (1973)

When it comes to Hulk’s friendships, people always think of Rick Jones, Amadeus Cho, even his cousin Jennifer Walters. But few people remember that Stephen and Valkyrie were two of the first heroes to treat Hulk kindly and with respect, even though Hulk always called Stephen names (the most iconic, “dumb magician”, which is a personal favorite of mine).

Stephen has always treated Hulk as an equal, as someone who is so much more than a mindless brute. So it’s really strange for me to read that, at some point, Stephen tried to banish him twice.

Sadly, it happened. The first was not as iconic as the second, though. So I’m focusing on the latter. Remember the Illuminati? The group thought they had the right to decide Hulk’s fate after he went berserk and destroyed Las Vegas. And Stephen agreed to it. Namor, who was also a member of the Defenders along with Stephen and Hulk, was the only one who refused, as seen in New Avengers: Illuminati One-Shot (2006). The three of them were the original members. Stephen should’ve known better. So why would he agree to this?

Because, again, the Illuminati are a very dubious group whose foundations are based on toxic masculinity. Powerful, egoic men left unchecked. And Stephen, as Earth’s most powerful sorcerer, couldn’t resist the call. The Ancient One was dead. The mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme was his. Clea left him years later - and he never told her about his dirty little secret, something that is subtly confirmed somewhere between New Avengers: Illuminati #4 (2007) and Avengers v4 #9 (2011).

Thus, it seems that Stephen, at some point, decided that he was better than everyone around him, a trait that was supposed to be buried in the past along with his arrogant neurosurgeon self. The kind man who has always praised his allies was now gone.

Except... World War Hulk happened. Long story short, Hulk ended up in Sakaar and found a new life after defeating his captor. He married and became king, and he was happy (you can get a very shady glimpse of this story in MCU’s Thor: Ragnarok, but that version is quite family friendly. World War Hulk is far worse). But then, the ship which the Illuminati created to send him into space exploded, killing his wife in the process. Spoiler: it wasn’t the Illuminati. It was Miek, who framed the Illuminati so Hulk would call revenge upon them. Enraged as never seen before, Hulk was truly decided to kill Reed, Tony, Black Bolt and... yes, Stephen.

At first, Stephen tried to reason with him. But Hulk’s hatred was beyond words. Stephen had all his fingers broken, ouch. Imagine his pain, assuming his hands were once injured in the car accident and still hurt from the damage and all the surgeries he has been through...

Now, as you know, Stephen is stubborn as hell. Remember the demon Zom? When everything else failed to stop the Hulk, Stephen finally corrupted his soul and let the demon possess him. Obviously, he lost control and almost harmed innocent people, which was enough for him to be distracted long enough for Hulk to finish him off.

In the end, Hulk discovered the truth behind the explosion and, after a rage outburst, transformed back to Banner. Stephen almost died that day by the hands of his friend. But he didn’t. All that was left from that sad event was guilt. Endless, heavy guilt.

One could arguee that Stephen is out of character. And I would’ve agreed with you, except... Nor time nor actions were good enough to heal Stephen’s heart. It never went away. Never.

The reason why he forfeited the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme? Because he used Zom’s dark magic and hurt Bruce deeply. And that affected him on so many levels that he didn’t find himself worthy anymore.

From New Avengers v1 Annual #2 (2008).

It didn’t stop there. He tried time and time again. He was never able to find the proper words to apologize because he knows words will never heal the pain he inflicted on his friend.

These thoughts are Stephen’s. “Two words I’ll repeat for the rest of my days. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” (From Incredible Hulks #618)

And poor Stephen even goes and tries to compensate his lack of expertise when it comes to interpersonal relationships, projecting his relationship with Hulk into, well, another Hulk. He’s so afraid of making the same mistakes he doesn’t even know where the line is drawn.

From Weapon H #2 (2018).

As I said, it will never go away. And Stephen knows it.

From Defenders v4 #1 (2011).

The point is, people make mistakes. And sometimes these mistakes are just too painful to be erased. Stephen strongly believes he’ll never be forgiven, which is quite sad because this sin will always be a source of guilt for him. Whether or not Hulk forgives Stephen in the future, it will always remain a burden.

Personally, I believe that blaming himself for what happened to Hulk is even worse than blaming himself for Clea’s departure. Because, see, Clea has forgiven Stephen over the years. They still love each other and, once you ignore Fearless Defenders, there’s no sin. They both agreed to take separate ways, even though their love still existed.

But Hulk? It’s a story about betrayal between friends. It’s quite cruel and sad for both sides. I can only hope that, someday, a writer will make it up for them. They deserve another chance. And, as unreliable as I am, all I want to see is a happy Stephen.

[heraldofcomingdawn]

Leaving Immortality Behind

It turns out, Rex Lapis wasn’t really dead.

Xiao wants answers.

(A missing scene of sorts, for that first confrontation.)

WC: 4,006

General Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Xiao Centric, Xiao Needs A Hug, Adepti Found Family, Xiao's Karmic Debt Causes Him Pain, Minor Childe/Zhongli,

happy birthday, to my baby yaskha! i almost didn’t finish this in time, but i did it for him!

It took three days to find him.

It wasn’t that the man in question was difficult to find. How could it be, when the Conqueror of Demons had spent millennia by the man’s side, had witnessed his many human forms over the years and could spot the minute differences between him and the other mortals? When he could feel the charge in the air whenever the Geo Archon was near?

No, it was more like a small - yet still significant - part of the younger Adeptus had been purposely avoiding looking too hard. 

Well, he found him.

Part of him wanted to pretend he hadn’t seen him, wanted to turn the other way just long enough for the ex-Archon (and wasn’t that a punch to the gut Xiao hadn’t fully processed yet) to make his leave, so he could spend yet another night pretending his emotions weren’t currently battling inside of him, conflicting and confusing. 

He’d thought he’d be relieved.

He was relieved.

But Xiao was also angry and betrayed and confused and upset, and it was such a whirlwind of unexpected emotion that he wanted nothing more than to manifest his jade spear and tear it all to shreds. He scoffed at himself; emotions were so insignificant to someone who had lived as long - and through as much - as someone like him. They were trivial matters he thought himself to be above, yet here he was, feeling like he was drowning. 

“Eager to leave, Conqueror of Demons?” Moon Carver’s words still echoed in his head, as he settled into a sitting position amongst the green tiles that made up his current perch. 

Very much so. 

Perhaps it had been the wrong thing to do, to leave without ensuring Liyue Harbor was truly safe, but how was he supposed to face the other adepti and pretend like something sharp wasn’t sitting in his throat after the Tianquan regaled them all with the details of her dream with Rex Lapis? 

Rex Lapis, who until that very moment, they all believed to be dead. 

The very same Rex Lapis who was currently enjoying dinner at the table below him -  very much alive - and sitting across from a red-haired man that set his nerve endings on fire with the strange energy that radiated off of him. Energy that wasn’t so unlike the miasma that dripped off monsters and demons sent from the Abyss. 

His eyes narrowed as he took in the details of his Archon’s companion and tried to ascertain whether he was a threat to his Lord or not. The red-haired man laughed loudly, blue eyes crinkling in delight at something Xiao hadn’t heard. He waved a hand towards a young, blue-haired allogene and requested something in Liyuen that would have confused Xiao even if the other man’s accent hadn’t been so atrocious. 

Come and get what?

His train of thought went no further as he heard Morax gently correcting the other man’s pronunciation, and oh Celestia above, his heart clenched. 

He was alive.

Xiao had spent several days believing that the man who saved him, who was the closest thing he had to family in this strange new world, was dead. He had also blamed himself for a brief moment - and anger had coursed through him when it was the traveler who came and delivered the news, rather than his own keen senses realizing something was amiss - because what good was a Vigilant Yaksha, a sworn protector of Liyue, if he couldn’t even protect the very Archon he owed his life to. If he hadn’t even known until it was too late. 

Tendrils of pain snaked around his wrists and brushed at his temples. 

He clenched his hands into fists, willing the burden of his karmic debt to stay away for just a moment longer, but it persisted. Perhaps this was a manifestation of his guilt, an all-consuming wave of bitterness and regret at not being there when the Exuvia fell. Perhaps it was his senses warning him that the man sitting across from Rex Lapis - Childe, his Lord had called him - wasn’t as innocent as his pink-dusted cheeks portrayed him to be. His fingers wrapped around the phurba dagger he wore around his neck as he watched them interact.

Whatever apprehensions he held toward Childe were slowly abated as they both listened to Rex Lapis regale them with the story behind the name of their meal (and oh! Come and Get It was the rice bowl they were consuming. 

How absurd - why can’t mortals just call it what it is?)

It was familiar territory, however, to listen to the man’s long-winded stories of his nation’s history and its people that he clearly loved, and it soothed the sharp edges of Xiao’s grief as leaned back and let the former Geo Archon’s soft lilt and smokey timbre wash over him.

Rex Lapis was alive.

Despite his warring emotions over it - and the betrayal he could taste like iron on his tongue - it would have to be enough. He could find a measure of comfort in the scene before him. 

The sun was nearly set now, the sky a rich twilight blue. 

There were a few stars out, pale white and barely visible, but still present enough to make out the constellations he had long ago memorized. The bustle of Chihu Rock was beginning to die down as merchants packed up their wares and bid each other goodnight. Soft laughter to the right of him crescendoed as the doors to the Third Round Knockout were pushed open and people filtered out, their faces warm and bellies full of whatever food and spirit they had indulged in. 

Lanterns were being lit now, their warm yellow light casting away the shadows that threatened the corners of Liyue’s streets. The smoke that had been gently billowing from an opening on the blue-shingled restaurant across from him had died down, as the owners - the blue-haired allogene and an older man - began to close up for the night. 

“Xiangling, take this to Granny Shan before she goes home for the night, will you?” the older man asked his daughter, handing over a takeout container. 

“You got it!” the blue-haired allogene returned, her voice young and full of life. She hurried out the door and paused at the only occupied table left, smiling down at the seated patrons who were finishing their meal. “No rush, you guys! I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Rex Lapis poured himself another cup of tea in response.

“What’s in the bag?” Childe asked, as he tried to fish out the last piece of meat in his bowl with the chopsticks he was gripping entirely wrong. Xiao’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

“Leftover pork and spring onion dumplings!” Xiangling replied, already walking away. “Dad doesn’t like food to go to waste and Granny Shan is such a sweet lady,  don’t you think? Who else better to give them to?”

“I couldn’t agree more.” 

This was Liyue at it’s finest, safe and full of warmth. 

For a second he can almost pretend he doesn’t hear the harrowing voices screaming for death or feel the pain that’s thrumming up to his forearms now. He can almost ignore the memories that threaten to overtake him every time he allows himself a moment of peace. 

The few days he thought Rex Lapis to be dead had blurred together. There had only been the steady weight of his spear in his hands and the familiar darkness that surrounded him whenever he donned his yaksha mask, as he lunged tirelessly and with a fervor that had worried the other adepti, as he seeked out every last demon and monster that dared to cross Dihua Marsh. 

If any of them had been responsible for his Lord’s death. . .

He should have been better.

Eventually, Cloud Retainer had caught up with him and all but pecked the jade spear out of his hand. He had scowled at her, hands shaking with exhaustion as he held the tip to her long neck and dared her to come closer. 

“One has been searching for you, Vigilant Yaksha.”

“One has found me.” Xiao returned, his voice sharp and mocking. 

“Put down your spear.” she commanded, looking down at him. “Rex Lapis’ death weighs heavily on us all, but one does not leave behind a trail of bodies like you have been doing.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer before he allowed the weapon to disappear in a flicker of light that reminded him of tiny crystalflies dispersing into the sky, but otherwise remained silent. 

“We must head to Liyue Harbor and seek council with the Qixing.” Cloud Retainer informed him, eyes narrowed as she studied him intensely. “It would be wise of you to come with. Their disrespect for Rex Lapis has gone too far - one should quash them for allowing such a thing to befall our Archon, but for them to sit idly by and do nothing while the Exuvia is stowed away. . .” 

Xiao hadn’t been able to withhold a wince at the words. 

Cloud Retainer’s voice softened at that. “If Rex Lapis has indeed been assassinated, then Liyue is in great peril, Baby Yaksha.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“We must not allow further disaster to bestow itself upon the land Morax loved - one promised to keep it safe, did we not? Rest for now, tomorrow we shall leave for the harbor.”

She hadn’t left him, but instead guided him to the top of Mt. Aozang where she dwelled, and left him to his own devices after gently pecking the top of his head. He had sat in a stone chair for the rest of the night, staring at Rex Lapis’ name carved into the table, and mourned the end of an era. 

His grief - his pain - had been for naught, hadn’t it?

“I have to get going now, xiansheng.” Childe’s voice cut through his thoughts. He straightened up a little and watched as the red-haired man stood up and smoothed out his grey jacket. 

“I understand.” Rex Lapis replied, his voice solemn. 

Childe grinned down at the man and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pouch Xiao could only assume was filled with mora. “Oh, don’t look so grim! I’d love to stay and chat a little longer, but there’s some business I need to take care of, before I leave.”

“Business that requires the stars to keep watch?” his Lord returned, and Xiao could detect a hint of knowing bemusement. “Very well.”

“Oh, sneaky! You know I can’t disclose Fatui business to you, Zhongli. The walls have ears, after all.” Childe laughed and Xiao’s annoyance at this man’s audacity for speaking to his Lord in such a way was derailed when he spoke Rex Lapis’ other name.

Zhongli.

So this was the name he’d chosen to introduce himself as, this time around. It wasn’t a new name, by any means, but it had also been a very long time since Xiao had heard Rex Lapis - Zhongli - refer to himself as such. Not since Guizhong was still alive. 

He watched as Childe paid for the meal and bid Zhongli goodnight, before making his leave towards Feiyun Slope. His crimson scarf flared out behind him and the metal grommets that decorated the fabric glinted in the lantern light. He thought he could make out the faint trails of wispy black smoke that followed him, almost caressing him like a soft breeze. 

There was something dangerous about that man and he thought to follow him, if only because Xiao had vowed to never allow demons to walk amongst the people of Liyue. Childe was most certainly mortal, but Xiao would never again allow his failure to dictate the future of the harbor.

Except he hadn’t failed, had he?

Because Rex Lapis was very much alive, with his chin resting on his hands as he watched the retreating form of Childe with a solemn look on his face, his abandoned cup of tea no longer producing steam. 

His grief had been for naught indeed. 

And the relief that had followed had been short-lived, almost immediately giving way to his anger. The same anger that curled in his stomach now as he thought of how Zhongli had been silent ever since the big reveal. There was a part of him that had hoped the Archon would seek him out first, to explain just why he had faked his death without letting the yaksha - or any of the adepti, for that matter - know beforehand. 

Yet three days had already passed and still nothing. 

“You might as well come down now.” Zhongli’s voice cut through the silence, his back still to him, and Xiao startled. “I think we’ve both put off this conversation long enough.”

Xiao stood up slowly and stared down at the other man. Zhongli had yet to turn around and truly acknowledge him, still staring in the direction of Feiyun Slope and his departed friend. He jumped down from the rooftop, landing on his feet with the lightest thud, and approached the table.

Zhongli looked up at him once he had taken Childe's place. 

This was a new mortal form Xiao had yet to see, but the locks of amber-tipped hair that framed his face and the eyes that shone like Cor Lapis that were present in every form Rex Lapis had taken, were the same. He eyed him warily, debating with himself whether he should speak first or not - whether he would even be able to produce the right words. 

“Hello, Xiao.”

“My Lord.” he whispered back, bowing his head.

“There’s no need for any of that anymore.” Rex Lapis smiled gently. “I am simply Zhongli now.”

Something inside of Xiao crumbled. “Zhongli.”

“It is nice to see you well.” 

The sharp feeling in his throat was back and he forced himself to swallow it down. He tried to take a breath, but it came out broken and staggered. Shame burned on his face at his unintentional show of weakness and he bowed his head lower. 

“Oh, Xiao.” Zhongli breathed out and his eyes were sad. “Let us take a walk, it has been a while since I’ve traversed the streets of Liyue with you by my side.” 

Their walk was directionless as far as Xiao was concerned. He trailed half a step behind Zhongli, eyes downcast, as he tried to compose himself. Anger was an easy enough emotion to grab onto, justified enough for the situation, and didn’t leave him floundering and vulnerable the way addressing his hurt did. 

He stopped suddenly and clenched his hands into fists again. The tendrils of pain were growing in intensity and he used them as a way to ground himself. Despite his anger, despite Zhongli’s desire to give up his throne, he was still the Prime Adepti, still his Lord, and still deserving of respect. Yelling at him, as cathartic as it would be, was pointless. “Why,” he began, then stopped to clear his throat, “why didn’t you tell me. Tell us.”

“I couldn’t.” 

Xiao raised an eyebrow and stared him down, refusing to accept that as an answer. 

Zhongli sighed. “I fear my answer won't satisfy you." 

"All I ask for is the truth." 

"I suppose I can give you that." Zhongli mused, but his expression was pained. He looked towards Mt. Tianheng and gestured to the other side of the bridge they were on. "Indulge me, first? I would like to finish our walk."

Xiao nodded.

They reached the peak soon enough. Zhongli stood at the edge of the mountain and took in the sight of Liyue Harbor. The outline of the wharf stood proud against the backdrop of the black sea, bathed in silver moonlight that reflected shapeless patterns on the rolling waves. The wharf was the pride of Liyue, the reason the land prospered as it had. 

It was a beautiful sight, even dark as it was with all the workers and merchants gone for the night, the last of the lanterns burned out. The Golden House glimmered to the right, that same silver light glinting off the metal finials that adorned its roof. In the far distance, the rock formations of Guyun Stone Forest loomed over the water. 

He shivered at the sight. 

The horizon was a beautiful one, carefully cultivated over millennia of hard work and bloodshed. The tendrils of pain wrapped themselves around him now and he held back a wince by sheer will alone, as he took in the stone spears placed by Rex Lapis himself. They kept the fallen gods pinned in place but the cost of their defeat still raged on as demons spawned. 

It was his duty to take care of them, one he did with honor, for he would give all he had in service of the man who’d freed him. Even if the Archon had passed before him, for this was the land Zhongli loved - fought for and created - and Xiao refused to let harm come to the only home he had ever known.

Behind them and to the left, the mountain peaks and ruins stretched on, crumbling rock structures that had been formed by hand long ago, now weathered and eroded into an open book that spoke of the nation’s history. 

Eventually the silence was broken when Zhongli decided to speak. "I think, if given the chance, there are many things I would do over," he began, "but I do not regret any of them, for when you've lived a life as long as I have, regret is something that can consume you.” He looked over to the ruins. “Even stone will eventually erode away."

Xiao stayed silent. 

"Saving you, however, is something I would do again and again."

"My Lord -" Xiao cut himself off. "Zhongli." he tried again, but it felt wrong to address him as such. Either way, he didn’t have words. 

Zhongli turned to look at him and gestured for him to step closer. He obliged and stiffened when the Archon placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I am sorry for the grief I put you through. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it's also something I would do again."

Xiao winced. 

"The truth is, Xiao, I'm tired."

"I don't understand."

"I have watched over Liyue for nearly four thousand years. I've been alive for much longer than that. Eventually, you start to wonder when it's going to end. I have seen Liyue grow and prosper in ways I hadn't thought possible. I have watched Guili Plains crumble into the ruins they are today when once. . .once, they were home. Now it is a place no one else remembers." Zhongli's grip slackened. "Liyue doesn't need me anymore."

"Zhongli-" Xiao began, alarmed. 

"Breathe, my baby yaksha, breathe." Zhongli chuckled lightly. "It is not as you think - Liyue has simply grown past the need for Archons. It is ready to stand on its own two feet."

“I’m not -” he began, but gave up. “So you faked your death.”

“I believe that if I had simply stepped down, the Qixing would never truly step up. No, I needed to kill off the idea of Rex Lapis for good. The people of Liyue needed to understand that this was truly the end of an era.”

Xiao couldn’t stop the anger that laced his tone. “You felt this wasn’t something I - we - deserved to know?”

Zhongli’s smile turned bitter at the edges. “Before I could truly step down, I decided a test was in order, to see if Liyue was truly ready. I must admit, I did it simply to quell my own anxieties.”

“A test?”

“I wanted to see if the Adepti of Jueyun Karst and the Qixing could work together to protect the land, if the time ever called for it, or if the adepti would simply decide their contract with Liyue - their promise to protect it - would end with my death.”

“Osial?”

“Unexpected.” Zhongli admitted, and he looked towards Guyun with amusement. “Still, I had forced Childe’s hand and I expected something grandiose from him - that he was able to lift the seals that kept Osial imprisoned is impressive.”

“Your dinner companion did all of this?” Xiao asked, warily. “And you asked him too?”

“A bit more nuanced than that, but yes.”

“I see.”

Silence fell over them again as Xiao mulled over everything. “Speaking of your dinner companion. . .” he began, remembering the traces of miasma that had clung to the man like wisps of smoke. Zhongli’s expression turned downcast at the mention of his friend and Xiao faltered. 

“He will be gone tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

“I am pleased he indulged me in one last meal.” Zhongli smiled grimly. “Even after I used him as a pawn, he still dined with me. I have no doubt the betrayal stings him, but tomorrow he’ll leave for Snezhnaya and I do not know if he’ll return.”

Xiao let the conversation drop. There was no point if the threat would be gone tomorrow. He would simply keep an eye on his potential return and wait till then. He wondered if Zhongli could not sense the darkness that surrounded the man, or if he simply chose to ignore it. Neither would surprise him. He was cursed - blessed, some would say - with the ability to sense demonic energy and the stench of the Abyss. 

It was the same for the other Yakshas, was the reason Rex Lapis had tasked them with fighting the demons that formed from the anger and hatred of the fallen gods, but now only he remained. If Rex Lapis - Zhongli, now - could not sense the darkness, Xiao would watch it for him.

The pain heightened and this time, he couldn’t keep silent. 

“You are in pain.” Zhongli said matter-of-factly, for this was nothing new to them. Eventually the pain would overtake him to the point where he could no longer see and all he could do was persevere and wait for it to end.

“It is manageable.”

“Do you still have pain medicine?”

“No.”

“Do you wish for me to get you more?”

“Yes.” Xiao lied, because even after all these years, he still couldn’t find it in him to tell Rex Lapis the truth: that the pain medication he so laboriously made for him never seemed to work. The pain in the Archon’s eyes, as he watched the younger Adeptus suffer as a result of his own victories, hurt worse than the karmic debt that burrowed itself into his flesh and demanded retribution. “I would like that.”

Zhongli hummed. “I will prepare it in the morning. For now, when was the last time you slept?”

I don’t need to sleep.”

“Perhaps not as much as a mortal does.” the ex-Archon mused. “But it is still something one can indulge in.”

“It can wait another night.” Xiao deflected. “I still have questions.”

Zhongli shook his head and exhaled lightly. He sat down on the grass and adjusted his coat, so he wouldn’t sit on the embroidered fabric and patted the spot beside him. “If it’s any consolation, I won’t go anywhere.” He locked eyes with Xiao and smiled when the yaksha laid down with an annoyed huff. “You can ask me in the morning.”

“I’m still angry at you.”

“I know.” Zhongli murmured, shifting a little so he could place his hand on Xiao’s head. Gloved fingers carded through strands of teal hair gently; rhythmically. “I know we still have much to talk about, but we have all the time in the world. Sleep, my baby yaksha, and know I’ll be here for as long as I am able.”

Sleep would not cause the pain to abate - if only it was that easy - but for the moment, it became manageable. For the moment, his anger dwindled and took a backseat to the contentment that bloomed in his chest. For the moment, the world was safe. 

If only because Rex Lapis was still here with him.

Tomorrow could wait. 

--

a/n: maybe one day ill write the full length chili fic i set up in here.

[sopherfly]

I MADE A BANNER so you know I’m serious about this.

The story so far is truly too long for Tumblr, so this is an excerpt. Read the full chapter on AO3 here. Many thanks to @boonki for beta reading!

~

Anakin woke with a gasping breath. He sat up, stunned, blinking as the room came into hazy focus. His room. His bed. He wasn’t on some Outer Rim planet. He was home, and Obi-Wan was sleeping just down the hall. Anakin dropped his head into his hands. A dream. Only a dream.

He scrubbed at his face, still seeing red behind his eyes. The glow of the Sith’s saber haunted him. He could hear that mysterious whisper of his name, beckoning him, luring him toward… something. The dark side of the force, his mind supplied.

Dread shivered through him. Of course. He hadn’t just held the weapon. He’d used it. Violently. Vengefully. Maul had already been dead, but Anakin had wanted justice. That wasn’t the Jedi way. Of course, neither was strangling people to death. Anakin winced. He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d seen Obi-Wan dead in front of him, and he’d - he’d lost control. Something inside him had snapped.

His throat grew tight as the memory resurfaced in sharp detail. He felt the pain in his chest and the fire in his lungs, and then he was gasping for air, his eyes stinging as he stared down at Obi-Wan’s corpse. “Stop,” he said to himself, shaking his head to clear the image from his mind. “It isn’t real.”

The raw hurt felt real enough. The familiarity of it wrenched Anakin’s gut. He swiped at his eyes, trying to catch his breath. His heart beat faster, a pounding rhythm, and when he felt the walls closing in on him, he threw off the covers and levered himself out of bed, stumbling out into the common room. The lights flicked on, and he shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness, cursing the motion sensor under his breath as he went to flip the switch. The room darkened again, and Anakin dragged anxious hands through his hair.

“Why did it have to be Obi-Wan?” The question wasn’t productive, but he asked it anyway, speaking quietly to the empty air. He’d already watched Obi-Wan die once. He’d believed that to be real, too, until he’d learned the truth. Obi-Wan had deceived him. Obi-Wan had faked his own death and hidden it. Apparently, Anakin hadn’t needed to know.

It had been, as all things were with the Jedi these days, for the good of the Republic. Anakin swallowed, the betrayal still sour in his mouth. He’d never known such absolute hopelessness. He’d mourned Obi-Wan, inconsolable, until his anguish had given way to anger. Then, when he’d finally learned the truth, that anger had multiplied, bringing him dangerously close to losing himself in the torrent of his rage.

Anakin had forgiven Obi-Wan in the end - he cared too much for Obi-Wan to deny him anything - but his trust in the Council had been irreparably broken. He’d done his best to choose missions that took him far away from Coruscant after that. Still, wherever Obi-Wan went, Anakin was compelled to follow, even if it meant dealing with the Jedi Masters he’d come to mistrust. He felt like a plant stretching toward the sunlight, reaching for the inviting warmth he could only get from Obi-Wan, not caring where it led him.

And what if Obi-Wan died in front of him like he’d seen in his dream? A world without Obi-Wan was a world without stars, cold and dark and empty. A chill crept up Anakin’s spine. He didn’t want to think about a world like that. Looking for a distraction, he stepped up close to the window and leaned his forehead against the glass. The city lights winked at him from the shadows outside, blurred and distorted by the rain, and he watched the water run down the panes in rivulets, listening to the soft patter of raindrops.

“Anakin. What’re you doing up?”

Anakin turned at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice. “Master.” He looked up at Obi-Wan’s face, then glanced quickly away, the image of Obi-Wan’s lifeless body flashing in his mind’s eye. No. No, no, no. He fought to shut the memory out, caught up in a rushing current of grief and sorrow and loss. “I’m sorry,” Anakin managed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Obi-Wan approached him, concern radiating through their force bond. Anakin bit his lip. He didn’t want concern. He wanted comfort, wanted to wrap himself up in Obi-Wan’s arms and bury his face in Obi-Wan’s neck. He wanted-

You want Obi-Wan. That’s all.

Yes. Anakin wanted. He needed. He longed for something with Obi-Wan that he could never have, because Obi-Wan would never break the code, not even for Anakin. That didn’t stop Anakin from longing. It didn’t stop him from imagining Obi-Wan beside him as he fell asleep. It didn’t stop him from worrying about what would happen if Obi-Wan grew tired of him, or worse, what would happen if Obi-Wan left on a mission and never came back.

He saw another flash of red, the memory still potent in his mind. Stop, he thought. It’s not real.

“Something’s troubling you,” Obi-Wan said, stepping close and resting a gentle hand on Anakin’s face.

Anakin wished he could tilt his head and drop a kiss onto his master’s palm. He closed his eyes instead, secretly reveling in the feeling of Obi-Wan’s skin against his own. His dream felt further away now. Had Obi-Wan banished his distress with a single touch? Anakin took a deep breath, then released it with a sigh. “Nightmares,” he said, opening his eyes.

Obi-Wan’s face changed only slightly, the corners of his mouth drawn down. “What did you see?”

“The Sith who killed Qui-Gon - Darth Maul.” Anakin paused, not quite ready to say the words out loud. “He kills you.” Even with Obi-Wan’s hand to anchor him, the memory drove a stake through his heart. He clenched his jaw against the feeling. It didn’t help. “I was so angry, Obi-Wan. I wanted him to hurt for what he’d done. And then - then you were still gone, and I couldn’t breathe. I still can’t breathe.”

Grief clawed at him again, harsh and painful, mixed with the desperate fear that what he’d seen might actually come true. What if it hadn’t been a dream? What if it had been a vision? What if Obi-Wan - what if - no. If Obi-Wan died, Anakin would never survive it. He’d be lost.

I can’t let you go, master. I’m nothing without you.

Something like a sob escaped Anakin’s lips. He did turn his face into Obi-Wan’s palm then, seeking more of that comforting touch.

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was thick with emotion, his eyes so full of care that Anakin nearly melted under his gaze. He drew Anakin down into his arms, and Anakin went willingly, a small, anguished whimper muffled against the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic. “It’s alright, dear one. It will be alright, I promise.”

Anakin took a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and holding tight. He turned his head to press his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, enveloped by Obi-Wan’s scent, reassured by the steady thrum of Obi-Wan’s pulse. Obi-Wan let him linger there, not saying a word when Anakin’s tears smeared hotly onto his skin. Long minutes passed, Anakin breathing in and out in time with the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, his fingers tracing soothingly through Anakin’s hair. “You don’t have to carry these things alone. I know I’ve let you down, but - you can still come to me if you need me. If you’re hurting.”

Anakin lifted his head to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. He’d been too afraid to go to Obi-Wan the way he always had before. A few threads of tension from Obi-Wan’s deception had still lingered between them, and Anakin hadn’t known how to cut them away. He realized now that he’d been waiting for permission. He’d wanted Obi-Wan to be the one to invite him, to offer freely what Anakin had always taken without asking. “Thank you,” Anakin said, sighing his relief through a watery smile.

Obi-Wan’s lips curved up, and he wiped a stray tear from Anakin’s cheek with a gentle brush of his thumb. “Are you feeling any better?”

Anakin nodded. He felt calmer, less overwhelmed by the storm of emotion.

Obi-Wan’s thumb brushed his cheek again, a slow caress that had no right to feel as tender as it did. “Will you be able to sleep?”

Obi-Wan had helped Anakin through enough nightmares to know the answer. Anakin shook his head. “No.”

Obi-Wan considered him for a moment. “And if I’m with you?”

The offer made something needy and hopeful bloom in Anakin’s chest. Apart from one notable recent exception, the two of them hadn’t slept in the same bed since Anakin had been a padawan. “Master, you-” he broke off, not sure if he was trying to accept or refuse. “You don’t have to do that.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Obi-Wan said softly. He lowered his hand from Anakin’s face, and Anakin nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.

“I…” Anakin’s shoulders sagged, his resistance crumbling under Obi-Wan’s steady gaze. “It would help,” he admitted.

“Alright then.” Obi-Wan started toward Anakin’s room, pausing when Anakin didn’t follow. “Well?” He quirked an eyebrow, expectant and amused and exasperated, and Anakin marveled at how Obi-Wan managed to make such a small gesture communicate so much all at once.

Obi-Wan continued toward the bedroom, and this time Anakin followed him, nervous anticipation setting in only once they’d crossed the threshold. He watched Obi-Wan pull the blankets further back and slide into the bed, then shift to make room for him. Anakin hesitated. The last time they’d done this, Anakin had been curled up in a ball on the floor, his face pressed to his knees, his body wracked with hiccuping sobs. Obi-Wan had picked him up and set him down on the bed, and Anakin had clung to Obi-Wan like a lifeline, curled up in Obi-Wan’s warmth until he’d calmed enough to speak.

That had been two months ago, and though neither of them had spoken of it since, Anakin hadn’t stopped craving Obi-Wan’s touch. It made him nervous - nervous that, despite the strength of his mental shields, he would reveal his feelings without meaning to. Where was the line between the love a former padawan had for his master and the love that now made Anakin ache? And would Obi-Wan know that Anakin had crossed it?

He breathed his nervousness out into the force as he slid in next to Obi-Wan, keeping his master within reach but not making any move to touch. Obi-Wan shifted into him, back pressed into Anakin’s chest. Oh, kriff. It felt good to have Obi-Wan here, to have him close and warm and safe. Anakin’s durasteel hand wrapped tentatively around Obi-Wan’s waist. He tucked his head into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, hardly daring to breathe.

Relax, Anakin, Obi-Wan said through their bond. It’s alright.

Obi-Wan’s presence in the force was soothing and warm, and Anakin sighed, letting his tension drain away. He listened to the steady rhythm of Obi-Wan’s breathing, allowing himself to nuzzle just a bit closer. He knew this wouldn’t sustain him forever; when it came to Obi-Wan, he would always want more. But it was enough for now. With Obi-Wan wrapped safely in his arms, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

[azerothpeacecouncil]

When: October 10th, 5:00 PM ST Where: OOCly Duskwood (ICly a safe far off corner of Tirisfal)

A curious thing has reached your ears...an even more curious notice was posted in a place only those who need it will see. A gathering in a far off corner of Tirisfal, untouched by the toxic blight, is happening soon.

Here, we come together to as Forsaken, for Forsaken, to remember all that has been lost. Not just their beloved city, but much much more. Home. Trust. Friends. Even hope. But not all is lost, no. Where things we believed in may have shown betrayal...is now when we must join together most of all and find the trust in each other, and see to the future. All may come to honor what Undercity stood for. What it still stands for. For what was. For what is. For the Forsaken. ~~ After many ups and downs, rescheduling and change of plans. Azeroth Peace Council happily presents our mirror event to Honoring of Teldrassil: Remembrance of Undercity. One that has changed greatly in meaning since it’s loss.

Here this event is not just to mourn a city that has meant so much to so many people, but to also reflect now on all that the Forsaken,  and allies, endured and felt during this recent war, and the things that led up to it. The feeling of betrayal. The feeling of loss. Friends and families ripped apart and a leader they thought would stand as their ray of hope. Much is lost. But now we seek to gather what can be gained. A time of remembrance, togetherness and a show of care to a people who deserve it. This is for all the Forsaken who are hurt, confused and need a time to express and allow themselves a moment to grieve, for the Horde who support and fight along side their friends in their unlife, and for the others... who may have family who look different now, but still love them. Join us, the Azeroth Peace Council and friends, to see these people honored and given the space express their grief and heartache, even if it beats slower or not at all. We welcome you...to the Remembrance of Undercity. -- Below is important info on: Schedule, Rules , Location and Questions ---- Something in advance, please make sure you have either the pets: (Preferred!) Lost of Lordaeron, Wicked Soul or Tiny Apparition.

The rest of the information will be located beneath the Read More, please read thoroughly, as it holds very important things to know. Especially information for those who might not be Horde (Alliance).

Schedule: 

All times are subject to change and fluctuate due to the nature of participation and role play. These are just estimates.

5:00 PM Server Time

The time to start showing up.

5:30- Thoughtful Souls

Here, you will have a chance to speak on your feelings. On what was lost. On what ...or who you lost. What this time means for you as Forsaken, and what it means over all. Undercity. Sylvanas. The divide. Anything...now is the time, to speak of mourning. Love. Grief. Anger.

I will be taking speakers before hand, please PM. The first few speakers will be given priority to Forsaken. After scheduled speakers, those from the group will go should time permit. You will have 8 minutes to speak. Pre-written if possible would be good here!

6:35~ (Depending how the speeches go/last) The Ceremony of Embers and Spirit

Here, a ceremony will be had symbolic for all. A great fire will be made, and after the introduction and speech for it, will let all step forth and cast items into the fire. These items are to be a symbolic chance for your characters to get rid of the things they thought they could trust, things they do not stand for, things they want to forget.

Think about what your character may wish to cast in the fire (Be it old weapons, tabards, insignia, momentos of war ect). Things that they can be satisfied in seeing gone from their life, to move forward together with all. Please note: You do not have to throw everything in, there will be an important reminder about history and relics of the past.

And after...we will have a time to remember. To reflect. To honor and then to see restless spirits put at ease....

(This ceremony is for Forsaken and Horde)

-7:45-8:00 A Feast for the Weary and Hopeful

A special selection of food has been prepared for the Forsaken who can, would like to or benefit from eating. There will be a selection foods made from

pork blood and meat, mushrooms and forsaken nutritious molds and insects.

And that’s it...please don’t ask for alternative.

There will also be foods for the rest, of kodo stews, plainstrider haunches, blood sausage, fruit pies and why not... You also get some safe insect meals. Fried spider fritters and snail. At this point, all will sit and feast and relax. And should any...non Horde wish to express their feelings here, they may (If none were allowed to during the Thoughtful Souls)

Rules:

- Absolutely no trolling, griefing or over the top OOC and toy spam. If you do not intend to come to participate, do not come at all. 

-If you are not in the position of speaking or giving a speech, please do not over do it with multi paragraphs. Due to crowd based RP, that can make it hard for people keep up. Please be courteous.

- Please behave ICly as well. Gotosh has hired specifically Death Knights for this as well as those volunteered from his Council, and he would prefer they didn’t have to enforce too much. Let this be a time of rest and remembrance, and no party antics.

- And a special note for Alliance who do show up to show support. Absolutely under any circumstance, please do not push it OOC or IC if a character in RP expresses distaste with you being close. The nature of this event is a little different then our Teldrassil event, and while you are not going to be shooed off, please respect the space of these characters and listen to security if they ask to make room. We want this event to be a realistic mesh of majority Forsaken and Horde, but with the allowance of Alliance who understand it’s nature. Forsaken were (are) human after all, and many wish to see their loved ones. This much, is very canon. 

Questions:

Wait did you say...Alliance? Why would they BE at this, they shouldn't be allowed!: While this is a Horde and Forsaken focused event, the Alliance who do want to show up, I am going to strictly say you better be Alliance who are here to support. Antagonistic behavior will not be allowed, dealt with and 100% not be put up with. But Alliance who wish to come somberly support will not be shunned, and we do not want you to either. It wouldn’t be fair to our first event, which was a Horde event where Alliance were allowed to come and see, if we did not allow this again. While the nature of Forsaken is different then Teldrassil, we want to create a realistic atmosphere. Even if its just a few Alliance, this should be a safe place for human relatives, grieving human relatives, and Alliance who have friendships with Horde and Forsaken. But please know, we understand the nature of the situation, and I hope this doesn’t deter you from showing. All privileges and focus will go to Forsaken and Horde first and foremost. I ask if you’re inviting friends, to please let them know of this so they do not try and take matters into their own hands. Security will be there after all.

Is there a dress code?:

Dark, forsaken inspired, things that are meaningful for your character to wear at an occasion like this. 

Why wasn’t this held in Tirisfal?

We were noticing a lot strange things with Tirisfal phasing, even on the low level side. Duskwood has a quick and easy way of being accessed through the south, it’s low level and the area fits the mood aesthetically. Plus, it looks visually similar to our first event. ICly this is Tirisfal, in an area far off where the blight did not reach. This would also allow , should any sympathetic Alliance wish to show, they can so safely.

LOCATION

(Inky Black Potion for this event will enhance it! Yeah, Duskwood is dark...but you’ll see.)

Additional questions? Shoot us a message! 

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Fantasy Romance

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Summary:

A generation past, the western realms were embroiled in endless war. Then the Destroyer came. From the blood and ashes he left behind, a tenuous alliance rose between the barbarian riders of Parsathe and the walled kingdoms of the south. That alliance is all that stands against the return of an ancient evil--until the barbarian king and queen are slain in an act of bloody betrayal. Though forbidden by the alliance council to kill the corrupt king responsible for his parents' murders, Maddek vows to avenge them, even if it costs him the Parsathean crown. But when he learns it was the king's daughter who lured his parents to their deaths, the barbarian warrior is determined to make her pay. Yet the woman Maddek captures is not what he expected. Though the last in a line of legendary warrior-queens, Yvenne is small and weak, and the sharpest weapons she wields are her mind and her tongue. Even more surprising is the marriage she proposes to unite them in their goals and to claim their thrones--because her desire for vengeance against her father burns even hotter than his own...

*Opinions*

Now I am starting this review with a bit of a caveat that I don’t read a lot of romance, let alone a dark paranormal or historical romance, whatever you want to label this as, so my review of this might not be overly helpful to who is well versed in the genre. That being said, I was surprised about how stressed this book made me and how invested I became in not just the two main characters, but the group of warriors that traveled with them. I feel as if the romance had the right mix of tension and animosity without me ever feeling uncomfortable with any of the intimate scenes between Maddek and Yvenne. The world and plot were fully realized and honestly a lot more complex than I was expecting for my first trip into romance. Overall, I really enjoyed this book and will continue with the series.

As this is a romance story, let’s talk about the romance first. I really enjoyed the relationship between Maddek and Yvenne as well as how it progressed throughout the story. Enemies to Lovers is a very popular trope, but for me, it has to be done well for me not to hate the main male love interest to the point that I forgive him a lot slower than the female protagonist does. Vane walks this line perfectly by giving believable plot reasons as to why the two love interests are not explaining themselves completely and why they are so antagonistic. That being said, but at the end of it, I had a hard time believing that they were still misunderstanding each other to the extent that lead her to believe that he would kill her when he came to rescue her from her father. True, Maddek had been cruel and almost hurt her before and if we were only in Yvenne’s head it wouldn’t have bothered me, but because we see how he feels about her that the last misunderstanding was a step too far. I also enjoyed that neither love interest was inferior to the other just had different skill sets that made it hard for them to relate to each other at times, but also helped them grow together. While the end of the novel was slightly disappointing to me, overall I was happy with the romance and who the two characters were by the end of the journey and as a couple.

Adjacent to the romance is the sex scenes everything around that. I appreciated that Vane gave an in-story reason, very early on, that rape was punished by the Gods in this novel. As this was advertised as a dark romance, I was worried that I was going to have to deal with a male love interest brutalizing the female love interest and then believing that the female love interest then fell in love with him. No kink-shaming here, but that isn’t the type of story I enjoy. While both Maddek and Yvenne wielded intimacy and sex as weapons at times, it was always a consensual act, even the first time that it happened. Also, Vane makes it very clear what is just sex and what is emotionally important intimacy between the characters.  

I enjoyed all the characters in this novel, both Maddek and Yvenne as well as the Dragon that travels along with them. Now, I have read a good deal of fantasy novels so I knew that as soon as a side character said they were content, they were going to die. Still, while the Dragon warriors were not the main focus, they felt like real people to me as well as good friends to Maddek and I cared about all of them. The villains were less fleshed out, but we also didn’t get a lot of page time with them. While they were rather one-dimensional and slightly mustache-twirling, as this is advertised as a dark romance and not a fantasy novel, that didn’t bother me as much.

Speaking of the plot, I was pleasantly surprised by how engaging and interesting the plot of this novel was and how realized the world was in this novel. Now, maybe this is my preconceived bias about romance, but I wasn’t expecting to be so invested in the plot. It is obvious that Vane has thought about this world past being a vehicle for her romance, giving his a history, religion, magic, and a whole host of creatures. All the battles were well written to give a sense of tension and concern for the individuals involved. Each culture also feels distinct and the richness of the world made the way that both Yvenne and Maddek dig their heel in regarding their way of life seem realistic and not just a reason to keep up the angst.

Now, you might be asking why this isn’t a five-star book for me, and that is because I feel as if this book didn’t stick the landing. After this long journey that spanned 500 pages, the climax of the book, finally confronting Yvenne’s father, felt rushed and unsatisfying. After the huge and epic level of the battle with her brother, a couple of arrows and then a head was taken off was almost boring. As mentioned above, I also didn’t find it believable that Yvenne believed Maddek would kill her because her father caused her to lose her baby. True, he had been harsh with her, but he always explained his reasoning and it was usually around his mother. How could he blame her while she was taken captive? Then the Epilogue didn’t really add any sort of satisfaction as it was just a time jump to show that Maddek and Yvenne were still together and tie in the other novels in the series. After being so engrossed in the novel, the ending really let me down.

I enjoyed this novel far more than I was expecting, but the ending knocked it down a whole star for me. I will probably continue through the series because I enjoy this world that Vane created and want to see how they tie together, if at all, but I will temper my expectation for the ending of the next novel.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) he says he wants to as well, but he is a liar  STAR WARS

Jangobi Week Day 3 - Undercover

A03

Jango sweeps through the halls like a violent summer storm, all but spitting in anger, teeth bared in a furious snarl under his buy’ce. They had been betrayed.  He had been betrayed.

Ben had betrayed him.

Almost a year ago, they had found a scrawny, underfed redhead barely out of his teen years wandering  Manda’yaim  , just another victim of  Kyr’tsad  and the Kalevalan pretenders. His story had been one that they’d all heard, orphaned by  Kyr’tsad as a child and raised among the New Mandalorians’ sickening idea of foster care. They’d all considered him one of so many unlucky children, but he’d proven that he was  Mandokarla  despite the  dar’manda  way the Kalevalans had raised him, without a connection of  aliit  or a proper education as a  Mando’ad. He hadn’t allowed himself to be brainwashed by their propaganda, had seen past it, and he hadn’t let Kryze and his ilk destroy his connection to the Manda.

They’d taken him into their homes, had welcomed him as one of them, and taught him what it had truly meant to be  Mando’ad. Jango’s own vod Myles had adopted Ben Naasad into his Clan, had made him Ben Rau of House Mereel. He had given him the name and soul that had been denied to him his entire life, had helped him forge his  beskar’gam  and complete the  verd’goten  that the  dar’manda New Mandalorians had never allowed.

Jango had fallen in love with him, had asked him to exchange the  riduurok  with him, and now he can’t help but wonder how much of it was a  lie. Ben - if that even was his name - had been a spy. He had been spying on them all along, passing on everything he learned to Kryze, the Republic dog that he is.

Had it all been a lie? Had the love Ben had felt for him, for all of them, been just a ruse? All that time together, all those times they’d fallen into bed together and given over pieces of themselves to the other. The warmth in blue eyes, the sweet lingering kisses and the teasing drag of graceful hands across Jango’s skin; had it really been  just a mission to Ben?

Jango had nearly torn the compound apart looking for his  ven’riduur after the Republic-New Mandalorian attack that had shaken his home, when he’d learned that Ben was missing. He had figured then that they’d purposely captured the intended of the Mand’alor, had taken his captive; Ben had been sick recently, could barely get out of bed in the mornings with throwing up everything he had eaten the night before. He had been clammy and feverish, and Jango had been trying to convince his  cyare  to go see a  baar’ur because he didn’t know how to help him. When the attack had happened, Ben should have been in the Mand’alor’s suite, resting surrounded by  verde who would protect him, but Jango had returned to his rooms, victorious in repelling the attackers, to find the guards he had assigned to his ill  ven’riduur unconscious on the floors.

The beskar doors that should have been protecting him had been cut away at the walls, by a  lightsaber. Jango had nearly been overcome with protective terror, seeing the melted, warped stone and his missing  ven’riduur  who had been too sick to even get out of bed that morning, who definitely wouldn’t have been able to defend himself against a  Jetii, no matter how skilled of a fighter he had grown to become over the year with the  Haat’ade.

It hadn’t taken long to organize an attack group; Jango’s people loved his intended. Ben was easy to like, spunky and feisty, but gentle and kind at the same time, a vicious fighter who cared so much for  ade that he spent most of his free time with the Clan children and Foundlings. He and his people had rarely ever attacked the New Mandalorians, saw it as dishonourable to fight those who wouldn’t even pick up a weapon to defend their own children, and kept most of their battles solely in negotiations - Jaster was especially good at cowing Kryze and his ilk, who took one look at the crippled former Mand’alor and thought themselves above him, who seemed to forget that it was  Jaster  who had made the  Haat’ade  who they are - but in working with  Jetiise, who had nearly killed Jango and his super-commandos on Galidraan, to take Jango’s  ven’riduur, they had given the Haat’ade an open invitation for  war.

It had been criminally easy to take over Sundari, to steal the city out from under Duke Kryze and his Kalevalan pretenders, and retake it for Mandalore. It had been far too easy for the enraged  Haat’ade to take the palace, to take custody of the children of House Kryze, to take the Duke’s youngest daughter and grandson as wards. Neither Bo-Katan or little Korkie would come to harm among the Haat’ade, instead they’d be adopted into a different Clan while House and Clan Kryze were dissolved and declared dar’manda, and the New Mandalorians and noncombatants that surrendered and swore to Jango as the Mand’alor would be given leniency and a chance to achieve cin vhetin.

It had been far too easy for all the trouble they had been giving him, but Jango had ensured his hold of  Manda’yaim.

While his verde had been taking the capital, Jango had gone hunting, intent on finding where his  ven’riduur had been hidden, and trusting his connection to the Manda to lead him to where he needed to go. He hadn’t been led towards the cell block like he had been expecting, instead, Jango had found himself marching through the guest wing of the palace, where the Duke’s most important visitors were to be housed. He had found his  ven’riduur  laying in a plush bed, looking a little green, wearing the distinctive robes of the  Jetiise, the shaggy red hair that Jango had so loved running his hands through shaved down to the cut of a  hibir. He’d jerked when Jango had burst into the room, staring at him with shock and fear as he’d fumbled with the hilt of a  jetii’kad, and for a moment, they’d only stared at each other as Jango tried to understand what he was looking at.

He had still been processing it when the Jetii had attacked. The large Human had come out of nowhere, but Manda’s warning and the widening of Ben’s eyes had given him the time he needed to dodge the green  kad’au  the could have taken his off of otherwise. The fight that had followed had been a blur; his anger and fury had given him the strength he needed to win though, but the moment the  Jetii’s body had dropped, Ben had  screamed .

Jango had known then, what it was that his  ven’riduur was.

A  Jetii  and a spy; but still, this was the man Jango had loved. He had ordered the  baar’ur to treat him, when they’d brought him back to Keldabe, but instead of being moved to their room, like he should have been if he hadn’t betrayed them, Ben had been locked away in a cell, to await his fate while Jango finished up meeting with his council and setting up a loyal governor to take over Sundari. He’d taken longer than he usually would, trying to work his way through the tangled knot of hurt betrayal in his heart, had tried to ignore the ache in his chest.

He’d only had one heart to give, after all, and he’d given it willingly to a man who had been lying about everything.

Jango meets Myles outside of the cell block. His  vod’s hurt is a palpable thing in the air around him; Myles had loved Ben too, just as much as Jango did, and his  vod’ika’s betrayal had hurt him just as much as it had the young Mand’alor.

Wordlessly, Jango claps his battle-bonded brother’s shoulder in support, and Myles’  buy’ce dips. They’re both silent for a long moment, taking strength from each other just as they would on the battlefield, before Myles speaks.

“It couldn’t have all been a lie.” He says slowly, and the vocoder in his  buy’ce  may hide a lot of things, but Jango knows his  vod just as well as he knows himself, he can hear the shakiness of unshed tears, the cracking of a broken heart, and Jango squeezes the other man’s shoulder. “Right?”

Jango thinks of the man he had fallen in love with; thinks of the genuine kindness and delight in blue eyes, and fiery spirit of a fighter that couldn’t be faked - the way he had  flourished  learning the ways of a  Haat’ad. Ben had kneeled at his feet and sworn to the  resol’nare, had declared his desire to follow the path for  cin vhetin. He had kissed Jango with such gentle passion, had let Jango show him how to make love, and had accepted Jango’s proposal to become one.

Not all of it could have been a lie. No one could have faked all that for over a year; not even a  Jetii.

A memory rises above his distress, of ancient texts and listening to his Buir late at night as they’d gone over the history of Mandalore. There were ways, old ones, to truly seek cin vhetin, Jango remembers, and once the idea is there, it takes root and flowers. Ben had sworn to  cin vhetin, had sworn to a fresh start, and there were ways Jango could lead him on that path. Ways that not even the  Jetiise could poison.

But he wants to hear what Ben has to say first.

“We won’t let it be a lie.” He swears to Myles, watching the way he perks up, despite his confusion. “Ben is one of us - whatever he was before doesn’t matter anymore. He swore  cin vhetin, and that’s what he’ll do.” With that, Jango steps past his second, feeling the other man fall in step behind him more than he sees him, and they sweep deeper into the cell block.

In front of him and just outside of the only occupied cell on this level,  Baar’ur  Nawara straightens. Helmetless, the Twi’Lek salutes, “Mand’alor!” Xe greets, and Jango nods to the older  Mando’ad.

Beyond the red laser shield, Ben sits huddled on his cot, back to them and eyes on the wall, and Jango can’t force his eyes away from his  ven’riduur  despite his words being for his  baar’ur. “Anything to report, Nawara?” A flinch travels up his  ven’riduur’s spine.

“'Lek  ,  alor.” A gesture of a hand signals for the doctor to speak, and Nawara only hesitates momentarily. “I ran some tests, to see what could be making him so ill, and I received some positive results.” Xe swallows nervously, “He’s pregnant, Mand’alor, just past eleven weeks. The fetal DNA is a fifty-percent match to yours.”

Jango stills, and he watches Ben - his  pregnant ven’riduur  - shiver. The joy of learning that he’s going to be a Buir is undercut by his anger at his  cyare  for leaving, but now, he can’t help but wonder how willing Ben had been to leave. He could have easily let the  Jetii  into their suite if he was really running, could have left, but instead the  Jetii that Jango had killed had forced his way in, had cut down the blast doors and taken him. Ben could have interfered in their battle at any time, could have leapt to the  Jetii’s defense, but instead he’d watched. He hadn’t even fought when Jango had sedated him for transfer back to Keldabe, and the Mand’alor knows that he could have.

Perhaps Ben had come to them as a spy - but it seems likely that he’d grown to genuinely want to be among the  Haat’ade.

“Why?” Jango’s voice pierces the silence that had followed the doctor’s words, but they’re not aimed at Nawara.

“I was given a mission.” Ben’s voice is quiet, thick with tears, but he doesn’t look at Jango, and he’s no longer using the Kalevalan accent he must have appropriated for his deception, it’s High Coruscanti instead, but Jango can hear the underlining burr of the Concord Dawn accent his knows his  ven’riduur  had picked up from him. “I was to infiltrate the  Haat’ade  and report back to my Master. To ensure you didn’t get more of a foothold on  Manda’yaim, and to support Duke Kryze and his Heiress’ claim to the system.” His head droops lower, “The Senate wants access to the beskar mines, but can’t move openly because of the treaties, not without looking like the aggressor to the other systems. I’m young enough that it was decided that I was the best option to complete this half of our mission; an orphan of the Clan Wars looking to join you would be more believable than a man nearing his fifties.” Ben’s voice breaks, and Jango wants desperately to hold him, to comfort him and wipe away his tears.

“But it wasn’t about the mission anymore.” Jango says slowly, “Was it? If it was just a mission, you wouldn’t have accepted my courtship, wouldn’t have let me fuck you -” Ben twitches, “- because you’re not that kind of person, are you, Ben?”

“It’s Obi-Wan.” Ben whispers, voice cracking, “Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“No, it’s not.” Jango states, voice confident, “You swore  cin vhetin. Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer exists.” Slowly, the Mand’alor steps forward, keying himself into the cell and pulling off his  buy’ce as he moves. “A fresh start - who you were before no longer matters.” He comes to a stop next to the cell cot, and slowly reaches out a hand. His fingers move through short, prickly strands of copper hair that lack the waves that he had grown to associate with his ven’riduur, and his nose crinkles at the sight of the ugly nerftail and braid he wore. Neither would be comfortable under his  buy’ce . Ben melts into the touch like he always does, hiccuping faintly on a sob. “You’re Ben Rau, of House Mereel, soon to be of Clan Fett.”

“This  wasn’t part of the mission.” Ben sobs, one hand pressing against his stomach as he lifts his head so that Jango could meet his  ven’riduur’s bloodshot eyes and see the tears trailing across freckled cheeks. His gaze is pleading. “Master Qui-Gon said I was getting too attached, and ordered my extraction.  You  were never part of the mission.” He shakes like a newborn striil, “I didn’t want to leave.”

Jango steps forward again, gathering his  cyare  into his arms and letting the younger man collapse against him. “K’uur.” The Mand’alor soothes, “I know, Ben.  Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

In his arms, Ben breaks, but Jango is confident in his ability to help him put himself back together.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42 @tumceteri-fratres

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 63

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"Well, are you?" I asked Jasper.

"Am I what?" She returned from her place by the counter.

"Going to shut down the strikes. She made some pretty good points about the Grimm," I said. I leaned on one of the tables, my massive sword handle extending over my head.

"No… I told you we aren't even in charge of the strikes really. It's a bit of an avalanche that's carrying us along. And if we don't get on board we'll be left behind," Jasper returned. "I'm not saying that she didn't have any good points. And maybe the only way to get real change going is with the elections. And Robyn Hill is basically a shoe in over Schnee. Especially down here in Mantle. Money can only buy you so much. Might be for the best if things were to die down."

"But you're not sure," I affirmed.

"How can I be? Nobody's sure. It's the Cetra condition. The Happy Huntresses are about defending Mantle, though. They've been at it for a while and they've done some real good. Maybe they're right about this too. I certainly don't think the military will shoot on the crowd but if they do it would be bad."

"The Happy Huntresses don't seem to like me which is a point in their favor."

"Oh pssh. None of that. You do fine."

"So, I'll just come by again later?" I asked.

"Yeah, really sorry about this, cutie." She winked. Her fox tail swished around in the air behind her in a brownish-red and white flare.

I ignored that last bit.

Neo tugged on my sleeve from her position by my side.

"What?" I asked her. "Want one of their drinks?"

She held up a finger to her lips as though deep in thought. Then shook her head.

"Then I have no idea what you want." I turned back towards Jasper. "We'll be back later. I'm going to go scope out this Adam Taurus and the protests. I might end up having to kill him after all."

"If you say so. See you later tonight."

"Yeah well no promises, especially if I end up in a fight."

Neo and I strode out and mounted my motorcycle. "You are being a needy bitch today, Neo. What's up with you?"

She shoved a finger in out of a rounded hole made of her other fingers. "Not happening. Didn't happen. I would remember something like that."

I was like seventy-five percent sure. Maybe a hard seventy.

She shrugged at me, somehow making the gesture teasing. An 'if you say so.'

"I do say so." And I did. It did not happen.

No matter what she herself implied. I would remember. I would know. Sure the night before was little more than golden blurs. And sure I somehow ended back up at the motel with all my armor and gear.

Anything could have happened after I really started drinking and the morning when I woke up. Anything but that, that is. The warm memories I felt were probably from The Den not from you know… sex… with Neo.

I rubbed a hand over my face hard.

"Neo you're fucking killing me. You know that, right?"

She grinned and nodded.

"Yeah well even if it happened once it's never ever happening again. I'm too fucked up to be doing that level of drugs again, that was a mistake. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm also too fucked up to be having sex with you."

I looked down at her as she frowned and slapped me on the arm.

"No points against you. You're drop dead gorgeous. But, well, tough shit," I returned. "For me and for you."

I revved up my motorcycle. Neo straddled behind me and flickered into a disguise for while we were driving. She was wanted, more so than my own form. No reason to give some patrol-man a reason to pull us over and start calling for backup.

And she couldn't exactly cover every camera we came across while driving. There were too many on the main roads and we went by too fast. So this little disguise helped.

She was still gorgeous in her double, with bright green eyes and dark black hair, just as long as it was when she was in her normal form which was to say waist length. Neo had that otherworldly angel-esque appearance some hunters got after a few years with aura.

It was a cure all to wrinkles and blemishes and left the user looking out of this world. Neo was no exception with her tight stomach being exposed and her muscular, relatively long smooth legs in those heels propping up her butt. Her short stature didn't detract from her beauty.

Huntresses, man. They were just like that. Like they came from another planet. Maybe I was a bit like that too, though. If I could be so arrogant. I'd had aura most of my natural life. Tall, blonde, and huntsman, I recalled a conversation in GaiLong I had with an old man about it. He told me not to be dense. I attracted more than my fair share of looks. More than my fair share.

Ruby had been like that. Beautiful like a little angel. Her hair and eyes stood out unnaturally even amongst huntresses. Yang, of course, was staggeringly gorgeous with her blonde mane of hair and lilac eyes. Weiss had a sort of pristine crystalline look to her that had drawn me to her immediately. Like she was multifaceted. Like a cut diamond. Blake had that bookish appeal but translated over to the huntress side of things it made her stand out in any crowd.

Pyrrha… well it went without saying with Pyrrha. Her emerald eyes and bright red hair flashed behind my eyelids every time I closed my own. She haunted me, Pyrrha Nikos did.

Even Jasper had started to have a bit of that. Stomach and face like a supermodel and long legs to boot.

Huntresses, man. Ain't nothing like 'em. Aura was a hell of a drug. It turned people into angelic beings.

But Neo was no exception. When I first arrived at Beacon I thought I'd have been lucky to have sex with someone as gorgeous as she was.

Now the thought only filled me with a slight sense of dread. A mix of betrayal and hurt welled up from deep inside me. Even though I had no right to feel that way. My feelings about it weren't valid. Not then when I'd first arrived at Beacon, all my feelings from then were fake. And not now when I was cruising around like a monster.

I rolled up on where the miners were picketing. It was near the open pit mine I'd been at for the bombing. They'd lined up around it, eight or ten people deep. They were armed with  protest signs and little else from what I could see. They had no weapons.

Could Ironwood really open up and fire on a crowd like this? Would that really solve the negativity problem or just make it worse? I could see it now, a swarm of Atlesian Robots mercilessly breaking up the protest with sleek assault rifles.

I thought it would make things worse. For sure, for sure but my opinion hardly counted for squat, did it.

By the crowd there were police officers lined up around the perimeter. They probably had standing orders to leave the crowd be but break up any fighting. They looked nervous. As they should before a mob like this.

The people were baying for change.

From the protestors' signs they were demanding safe improvements to their work and higher wages. Nothing crazy, at least in my opinion. In my estimation they would get it. They deserved it. These people weren't hunters. They hadn't signed up for danger. They wanted their working environments to be safe so they could go home and see their families every day.

There was nothing crazy about that. Nothing insane. These people already should have had that. Mining should be one of the safest occupations. It could be done right. It didn't have to be a dangerous, well, a minefield. Save that for the hunters.

I guess the collapse of this mine, artificial or not, had been a bit of a breaking point for the people. I trolled around the crowd for a few hours. Traffic was ground to a halt in places as the protest spilled out onto the streets, blocking vital arteries of city flow beyond the capacity to reroute. It backed up traffic for miles and miles. It was unbelievable.

It was a mess. I could confess that. But it seemed like an easy enough decision at the top level. Capitulate, and nobody would have to get hurt. Of course if old man Schnee cared more about people than the profits his company could pull in, then people wouldn't be protesting, would they.

It was hard to see him winning the election to the council with open picketing happening against his company but Atlas got a vote too and they were separated from all this. One of the benefits of keeping the people of Atlas and Mantle segregated.

It was gross but effective. Keep the different stakeholders in different places and there would be no need to capitulate. I didn't hide the disgust I felt and let it roll out onto my expression. Jacque Schnee could keep his company rolling the way it had been and become a council chairman. He could have his cake and eat it too.

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I never found Adam Taurus.

It wasn't exactly a point of shame for me either. The entire Atlas military couldn't find me but then again I was driving around in broad daylight with my own illusionist. It made me wonder if Adam had his own illusionist. Like maybe someone like Emerald Sustrai. She was an illusionist too.

What I managed to do instead was drive around and observe the absurdity of the crowd for a few hours. If I needed to find Adam Taurus bad enough I would use Aurum. Not drive around lost.

Still it was good for me to see the crowd and feel their negativity for myself. It was easy to talk about it and have it all get lost on you what ten thousand angry people really felt like against your skin. Or aura. Whichever. They felt mostly the same to me. Maybe it was my short lifespan with a relatively long period of having my aura activated but I could hardly tell a difference.

I could feel Neo riding behind me with her cruel cold. I could also feel the crowd. Blazingly hot. Burning me up. Throngs of people fired up over a common reason. A common goal.

I wasn't much of an empath but even I could feel the negativity. Ren had always been better than me at that. Ruby had been too. What did it say that I was able to feel the negative emotions rolling off the crowd like a tsunami?

It meant that even a layman could probably notice it and pick up on it. The walls of Mantle had probably been under twenty-four seven assault by the Grimm. Meanwhile Atlas rested above, safe and sound. Connected to Mantle only by shallow guide wires for the gondolas and trams.

A shallow spider web that connected the two cities. Never crossing, never overlapping, but allowing the transference of people and ideas.

They probably felt none of this rage. Atlas was an island in a sea of negativity and Grimm. Albeit a floating island but an island nonetheless.

How could two places so close together feel so disparate? Was this how the segregation had remained mostly in place for so long? How long has things been like this with Mantle's red hot rage and Atlas's grey cold apathy?

It unsettled me, the stark difference between the two.

I shifted on the bike and Neo scooted down closer to me. She kept a single arm around me and under my plate.

"Well Neo, what do you think? Think we should cut this off and kill Adam Taurus?"

Was I just hunting for a reason for me to kill someone. Maybe. Salem was driving me mad. I at least had that as an excuse.

"Of course killing Adam Taurus won't end this. We'd need to get that Dyne guy. We started this, though. We're responsible for it, to one degree or another."

"I feel bad. Last night I was getting wasted in The Den and this shit was happening down here. You couldn't even tell how bad things are from up in Atlas. All the people down here, if you even care to look and see them, just look like ants."

I rolled back up on Seventh Heaven in the evening. There were more cars parked outside than normal. I marched up to the place and walked inside with a jingle of the bells.

It was relatively crowded. It had all the members of Avalanche inside, looking as they did before with their red bandannas. Then it had another man in a white mask, red hair and a long katana. He had the horns of a bull on him.

There were two more guys inside. A taller white skinned gentleman with a white shirt, green trousers and a green vest with red trimmings. He had only one arm. The other was cut off at the elbow with red bandages around the end. He had a wiry tail like that of some kind of big cat.

Another man was in there but his opposite arm, his right, was cut off at the elbow. He was taller, taller than me, with black skin and black hair.  He had thick brown boots and a brown vest with green trousers and a darker brown under shirt. He had a thick bushy bear tail.

Everyone turned to look at Neo and I as we walked in. We were the only humans in the room.

"Cloud…" Bisque said in greeting.

"What're these humans doing here?" The man in the white mask gestured his blade forward at his hip towards me.

"We invited them, before we knew this meeting was going to happen," Jasper said.

The man with the katana growled at me. I stared him right down back. It would be inaccurate to say nothing scared me, but not this asshole.

"He worked with us. He's a mercenary who helped us blow up the mine. He fought the Turks. He's cool," Wenge said.

"You did that?" The taller dark skinned man asked.

"I did." I nodded.

"Why would a human do that?" The masked man asked.

"Money. Information. Take your pick," I shot back.

"I don't like your attitude. And I do recognize her. She's Neapolitan. She used to work for Roman Torchwick."

"She works for me now. You got a problem with that then we can take it outside."

He growled and stepped forward towards me. A hand held him back and his chest from the man without his left arm.

"I'm Dyne. This is Barret," Dyne introduced. "We could use the help of a skilled merc. The picketing is losing steam already. We need to set a fire under Schnee's ass."

"Avalanche was telling us about another operation, one to sink an SDC freighter," the man without his right arm continued, Barrett was his name. "Make them beg for the miners back."

"They told me about it. I recommended that they wait," I said. "I take it you gentlemen want the operation to go ahead?"

"That's right." The man with the sword said. "If you think you're up for it. If they think a human like you can be trusted."

"Avalanche has one of my retainers." I pulled my pipe out and lit it. I made myself look comfortable.

"Oh Cloud can I get you anything to drink?" Jasper asked.

I looked down at Neo. She nodded. "Just one of those house specials for Neo. I'm good." I'd had enough to drink the night prior. "And who's this?" I nodded at the man with the Katana. "The rest of you were polite enough to introduce yourselves."

"I'm Adam Taurus."

"Ah," I said. "The man on everybody's mind. I might get paid to kill you tomorrow."

He grabbed his sword but he didn't draw it.

"Is that a threat."

"A little." I exhaled smoke in his direction. "It's the truth. Think you can take me, Taurus? Wanna dance?"

He growled at me.

"I, for one, like you, Cloud. What was your last name?" Dyne asked.

"Strife. It's Cloud Strife."

"Well I think we just may be able to work together. Avalanche has your fee? You'll do this op for us?"

I smoked and nodded. I looked over Dyne's head at Avalanche. They were giving me pleading and grateful looks.

"Should be cinch," I said. "We can discuss my payment later."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[itsclydebitches]

Honestly even if it can be interpreted that Ironwood’s fall was due to his increasing stress hitting a breaking point I highkey doubt that’s what RoosterTeeth was going for. The way he’s portrayed after his fall isn’t as a tragic hero who’s gone to far, it’s as a ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable. Of RoosterTeeth really wanted it to be a tragedy wouldn’t they have the girls take at least a little responsibility for the part they contributed to his spiral. Or at the very least have them look at him with pity and sadness instead of scorn

Yeah, I don’t think Ironwood is intended to be viewed as a sympathetic former hero going down the wrong path. I think he’s intended to be seen as the villain given these new, very heavy-handed actions: unprompted murder, working with Watts, etc. I likewise think RT is (unintentionally) writing scenes/scenarios that do make him sympathetic: Qrow also worked with Tyrian, the group’s betrayal, his kindness towards allies, etc. ... so you can see how discussing RWBY gets really confusing lol. We’ve got a show that seems to be pushing A Message rather clearly, yet simultaneously ignoring the numerous ways that they’ve contrasted that message, so the viewer is torn between what the authors want us to believe (something we have gotten evidence for once that message started to exist) vs. what we’ve seen leading up to all that. If the show were to suddenly have Yang cut her hair and loudly insist that she’s always wanted to do that, do we acknowledge the numerous times where she’s furious at losing just a few strands? The numerous times she could have cut it and just... didn’t? The many ways in which a turn towards “I hate long hair ugh thank the gods I can cut it now” wouldn’t make sense for the Yang we knew and we’ve been given no reason for this sudden change? Or do we double-down and insist this was in the works from day one? That’s Ironwood, only it’s much more significant to the story than Yang’s hairstyle. 

RT wants us to see Ironwood as the “ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable,” but they failed to write a ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable throughout Volume 7 or Volumes 3-6. Admittedly, I expected it in Episode 1 of Volume 7 just because it was the easiest route to write for non-Salem conflict. I had prepared myself for it and was ready to (somewhat) defend the decision with “Well, Ironwood has been off screen for a pretty significant amount of time. Even though we last saw him defending Weiss and presented as heroic compared to Jacques, things may have changed and we’d better hear about what those changes were.” But then... Ironwood wasn’t a dictator. He’s going to be suspicious and cruel to our heroes! He wasn’t. Hugs, information, and resources all around. He’s hurting Mantle because he doesn’t care about them! No, he’s hurting them because he believes a short term danger (hole in the wall) is preferable to wasting time when Salem may destroy another school. He thinks he can finish Amity, amass an army, and defeat her now... and the group won’t tell him otherwise. Ironwood will be controlling and authoritative! Nope again, he listens every time the group disagrees with him and only stands his ground when he has good reason to. He’s open to working with Robyn if she’ll work with him. He does work with her, while also trusting the Council on Ruby’s say-so. He listens and changes his decisions based on his trust in others, which is betrayed. Ironwood’s army is a threat to civilians, a representation of the American police! We never see anything like that. We see the army protecting people from grimm attacks and, in the most recent episode, being scared about the grimm army or acting goofy with coworkers. We likewise see the Ace Ops working through the situation for themselves and refusing to fight unless they’re attacked first - they’re not mindless soldiers. 

At every turn the characterization that would have equaled “ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable” wasn’t there, which is why this sudden turn towards it doesn’t add up. It wasn’t inevitable. Rather, wee saw it being deconstructed ...Yet RT doesn’t seem to realize that’s what they were doing, and therein lies the problem. They started writing the end product - Ironwood kills people and works with villains - without writing the setup to get him there. While writing the exact opposite, in fact. 

The general takeaway RT doesn’t know what they’re doing here. They don’t know how to write the show they want to tell. We’ve seen it numerous times before, from the bird conversation, to Ruby’s hand-to-hand, to the claim that the Ace Ops aren’t friends. Again and again we see this inability to show the audience a supposed problem (this power is scary and dangerous), a supposed flaw (Ruby as an individual needs to fight without her weapon), or a supposed difference (the Ace Ops act quite friendly towards one another and don’t obviously contrast RWBJNOR). Ironwood is just a much larger example of this. They tossed out the “ruthless dictator” like they tossed out birds, hand-to-hand, and friendship, and I’m left going, “Where did this come from?" At the end of the day, whether Ironwood’s “ruthless dictator" persona makes sense depends on if you prioritize what you’re shown in the story, or told by the cast/in the latest episode. It also depends on much you’re willing to try and read each scene fairly, rather than forcing them to fit the latest characterization/theme. Continued easy example of that: Ironwood’s “I’d have you shot” line. It’s a joke for the audience. A simple way to establish the (surface and not very serious) conflict between him and Qrow, nothing more. Yet many fans choose to read it as a serious murder threat because it fits the new “ruthless dictator” characterization. It’s easier (and more satisfying, an allure I do understand) to read things in a way that results in, “RT is writing an amazing, cohesive story” rather than “RT is writing a messy, convoluted story that continually contradicts itself.” It’s that persistent insistence that it all makes sense, it all adds up, it was all planned and foreshadowed and carefully crafted... but it’s not.