#so was he trying to manipulate Guts somehow and it backfired in a way he didn't expect

[13eyond13]

omg okay so he's aware about it at least

[cursed-ice-spirits]

You ever wonder how Duncan Ashe died? And what happened that night? You’re about to find out. Special thanks to @angrynar for teaming up with me for the @hphmbang2020! Hope you guys enjoy <3

Late. It was very late. It had been hours since he last rested and he wasn’t even remotely done. Duncan Ashe groaned and peeled his face off his book, feeling a sharp crack as he etched his head to the left. Rubbing at the dull ache that shot from his neck to his shoulder and fingertips, Duncan squinted at the spinning words in his notes, trying to force himself to stay awake. His head seemed to pound.

There was no time to rest.

He needed this done, and an Erumpent potion required all his attention.

The door suddenly opened with a loud creak, sending light into the room. Duncan lunged for his wand, grasping it around the handle and whirling around to face the intruder, but relaxed when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

“Jacob,” he said, breathing a breath of relief, lowering his wand. “Did someone follow you?”

The other boy shook his head, pursing his lips as he pushed into the room. “Snape almost did,” he admitted, looking just as exhausted as he felt. “Managed to get him off my tail, though.” Jacob shrugged off his bag and tossed it aside, ignoring his friend’s half hearted glare when it was thrown haphazardly against the table. Gripping the back of the chair, he leaned over Duncan’s shoulder, squinting at his notes. “Your handwriting is shit,” he muttered. “How’s the potion going along?”

“Not as bad as yours.” Duncan eyed the cauldron sitting against the wall. “It’s doing fine, at least I hope it is. It has to settle for…” he glanced over his notes. “Twenty more minutes. Then I’ll have to…” He trailed off when he saw the way Jacob’s face flickered with guilt. “Jacob, what’s going on?”

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the wall for a moment, then heaved out a sigh and reached into his robes, withdrawing a note. “I’ve gotten word from R,” he said tiredly, sliding it over. “They, well, it’ll be better if you read this yourself.”

Narrowing his eyes, Duncan slowly took hold of the note and drew it closer to him. As he continued to read the note, a deep anger started curling inside his gut, rolling down his throat like red hot lava, until he was throwing the note aside and pushing himself out of his seat. He turned slightly to search through his bag. “Tell them fuck no.”

“Duncan—”

“Don’t ‘Duncan’ me!” He snapped, turning sharply. “Do they not understand an Erumpent potion? A potion containing the parts of an Erumpent requires you to be delicate and patient, and rushing it will cause it to backfire and then we’ll have to start all over again! Tell them no!”

“I already told you several times before,” Jacob said, heaving out a heavy sigh. He pushed his hair out of his face, looking exhausted. “I can’t.”

This again…. he wanted to shake him. Why can’t he give clear answers for once?

“Why not?”

“You know why!” Jacob tugged at his hair and turned away, starting to pace. “They have resources. If we pull out now, we’ll trip over ourselves and we’ll never get what we need!”

Duncan stared at him for a moment, clenching his jaw. “Do we really need the treasure from the Cursed Vaults?”

“What kind of question is that?” Jacob stopped pacing and whirled around, staring straight at him, disbelief clear in his eyes. “They want it! We want it! Of course we do! Isn’t that what we agreed on when we started this?”

“Yes, but I can’t continue! We’re risking our lives for R!” Duncan snapped. “They’re asking for the impossible! I can’t brew this potion by tonight! I know we agreed to search the Vaults together but… come on, this is too far. I can’t do this anymore — even I know when to back away.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Jacob’s gaze wavered. “So you’re just gonna leave me alone in this?”

Duncan’s throat closed up. “N-No that’s not what I’m saying at all. Don’t twist my words and stop manipulating me — I’m saying this is too much—“

“I’m not!” Jacob roared, slamming his fist on the table. “I thought we agreed we were in this together! I thought we agreed to find whatever’s in the Vaults together! We can’t just… stop. Not now…”

“Yes we can! And I’m saying we’re gonna end this together!” Duncan stepped forward, gripping Jacob’s shoulders, desperation at his throat. “Come on, Jacob, once they have no use for us, they’ll throw us away and leave us to rot. They don’t care about us. We’re nothing but tools. We’ll die if we continue. Are you willing to risk that?”

Jacob worked his jaw furiously and glanced away, something dark and cold coming over his face, something that sent shivers down his spine. Duncan’s throat dropped to his stomach. He can’t possibly…

“Come on, Jacob… say no. Come on, you can’t seriously be willing to risk that for the Vaults, come on…”

Jacob placed his hands on Duncan’s own…. and pulled them away. “I’m sorry, Duncan, but I have to do this, regardless if you’re in or not.”

Duncan gritted his teeth, tears of frustration forming in his eyes. No matter what he says or does to convince him to back out, he can never get to him. Every word he throws at his face is being hit against a brick wall.

He can’t get to him.

He opened his mouth. He could say no. He could tell him he wants no part of this anymore. He could tell him he’s out. He could leave and he could stay out of this damn mess, because there was no way he was going to convince Jacob not to go after the Vaults. He knows who’s possible to be saved out of a situation and who’s completely hopeless.

Jacob’s hopeless, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

But looking at him now…. Duncan faltered. No. No, he can’t say no. He can’t leave Jacob alone in this. He can’t let R do whatever they want with him now that he’s gone and out of the way.

He can’t. He cares about him way too much to leave him alone with R. If he leaves now… if he leaves him around… he’ll do something stupid, something that he can’t wiggle out of.

He can’t let that happen, no matter how stupid Jacob is. He can’t lose Jacob like they lost Olivia.

Duncan rubbed his thumb against the corner of his eyes and turned away. “You’re impossible. Fine, I’ll brew the dumb potion.”

Jacob blinked, the coldness disappearing. He looked dumbfounded. He didn’t blame him. Hope and relief lit up his face, and it hurt. “You… You will?”

Duncan huffed and folded his arms. “I’m not leaving you alone in this, am I? Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Slowly, Jacob’s face split into a grin, before he threw his arms over him. “I knew you’d come to your senses! I’ll go prepare for tonight. I’ll come back in a couple of hours, alright? Remember to have this finished tonight. See you then!”

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing tears away as he hugged back briefly, before pulling away. “Yeah yeah, Whatever. Just do your thing. I’ll try my best to finish.” He paused for a moment, before insisting, “I promise.”

“See you in a few hours.”

Arms pulled away from his shoulders. Jacob lifted his bag from the table and headed off. As footsteps slowly walked out of the room, Duncan shook his head and sank into his seat, staring at his notes in despair.

There will always be something he’ll always do for him no matter what, huh? Gritting his teeth, Duncan dashed his hand across his eyes and made for the cauldron, slipping on his dragonhide gloves again.

The time was up anyway. He’ll have to finish this. Maybe it’s impossible to finish this potion by tonight, but if he pulls every trick he knows about potions...

He’ll finish it. Somehow. But he will.

He promised after all.

-

Hours pass by. A thick haze clouded his mind as his hands moved automatically. Adding ingredients, chopping them up, crushing them, measuring out the proper measurements, turning up the heat and waiting.

He lost how much time passed by.

Add 5 slices of an erumpent tail. Stir until it's dissolved. Wait. Etc…

Grind the horn into fine powder. Crush it with the knife. It’ll be easier. Measure it. Add it into the potion. Stir. Let it boil for maybe 30 minutes. Etc…

It goes on and on. Duncan’s eyes were starting to sting, and sweat drenched his brow as he turned up the heat just a little bit more, using far too many shortcuts to save time in order for it to be finished by tonight. Is it dangerous? Yes. Is it risky? Yes. But it needed to be done by the time they got to the Vault.

Duncan pushed his hair out of his face and wiped sweat off his forehead, taking a moment to himself to just breathe, rubbing aching and trembling fingers. He’s just so tired. Tired from so many sleepless nights, tired from being worked to the bone, but he promised. Swore to Jacob’s face he promised to finish the potion by tonight, and he always stuck by promises, no matter what, or how crazy it is.

Onto the last step. Duncan levitated a small vial full of yellow liquid out of his pack. It looked small, harmless, but it was the fluid that allowed an Erumpent horn to explode. One wrong move and it’s over.

Taking a deep breath, he shakingly let it out as he carefully opened the vial.

The last step: Add 10 drops of Exploding Fluid. Measure 5mg. There should be a black ring of smoke hovering over the cauldron for each drop. The liquid should bubble. This is because of the explosive fluid mixing with the potion. Wait until the smoke clears to add the next drop. Boil at 82 degrees for an hour. The potion should turn yellow.

This is… the most critical step. Exploding Fluid is something to be handled carefully. No shortcuts.

Holding a hand to the vial, Duncan carefully tipped the vial over, and watched the first drop roll out of the vial and down into the unfinished potion.

As it dropped into the potion, a ring of black smoke rose, circling over the cauldron. The liquid itself was starting to bubble, not gently, but not too violently for it to be worrisome. Duncan swallowed and set the vial down.

Now to wait.

Slowly and before his eyes, the black smoke started to disperse and rose to the ceiling, particles slowly disappearing into the air. Duncan leaned over, gripping his wrist with his other hand to add the next drop, and leaned back as the black smoke started to form again. Rinse and repeat. His hand was starting to shake and ache from working for so long. But he was so close to finishing… he can’t stop now… he promised...

It was at the fifth drop that things… went wrong. He didn’t know what went wrong. Maybe he made a mistake or two earlier and it just acted now. Maybe he wasn’t careful enough. But it did.

And it went so horribly wrong.

As Duncan added the fifth drop, the mixture suddenly turned black and fizzled violently, the liquid sloshing inside the cauldron and expanding. Pausing, he carefully set the vial down and leaned away, watching the mixture warily. By the time he realized what was happening, he only had a few seconds to dive for the table before the cauldron exploded into a literal ball of fire.

The blast exploded through the air, followed by flames, sending him crashing hard against the wall. Heat seared through his clothes as flames licked at his heels, rubble crumbling from the walls, large chunks spilling out as the flames quickly started spreading. Duncan’s gasps of pain became swallowed by smoke, ash, and soot, even as he shoved his hand to his mouth and coughed harshly, spitting and sputtering.

His ears were ringing. His chest burned with agony. Duncan crawled out from the walls of flames, doubling over in fits of coughs, eyes watering, trying to fix his vision on the door...

He had to get out. Get out…

Jacob.

Jacob.

Shouting wavered slowly through his ears outside. They hurt, but he knew help was out there. Duncan gripped his burning fingers on the ridges of the floor and dragged himself up, wrapping one arm around his burning, burning torso. Too much smoke. Too much pain. It burns. Everything hurts. He can’t breathe. He’s not gonna make it—

He’s not gonna make it.

He’s gonna die. Everything is over. He didn’t even graduate yet. He didn’t even get a chance to spend a normal life with Jacob and having fun without having to worry about stupid Cursed Vaults trying to take over their lives and now Jacob is gonna be all alone with stupid R and stupid Rakepick and stupid Dumbledore—

As he made his way to the door, flames licking at his sides and sending burns that stung as they made contact with the rubble scattered along the floor, he parted chapped lips to call for help, but the resulting noise ended up in coughing fits and wheezing breaths that rocked against his ribcage. He doubled over, curling into a ball, pain wrecking his body.

He’s not gonna make it.

He slumped against the floor, too weak to continue his journey to the door, his vision blurring at the edges. Someone was shouting orders outside. Dumbledore? Snape? He‘ll never know.

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, smoke filling his lungs, as he took his last breath just as the door banged open hard enough to smash against the door and bounce back, voices shouting.

I’m sorry, Jacob.

-

“What do you mean something happened with Duncan!?”

Professor McGonagall hesitated. He should have taken that as a bad sign. She never hesitated. “There appears,” she said slowly, “to be… an incident, with Mr Ashe.”

“What kind of incident?” Jacob stressed, fixing the Transfiguration Professor with a look of dismay. “What happened, Professor?”

McGonagall gave him a mournful look. A look that burned into his eyes. “...it’ll be best if you see for yourself,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him to the direction of where he last left Duncan.

“I don’t understand… why can’t you explain it now?!”

“His… condition is very delicate. Please understand…”

Her voice turned to white noise. The longer they walked, the more fear started building up in his gut, hands shaking as his fingers dug into his palms, until he finally tore himself from McGonagall’s grip and raced up ahead.

He saw it before it came.

Students surrounded the outside of the room, smoke pooling up into pillars to the ceiling. The teachers were right in the middle, arguing as Snape and Pomfrey disappeared inside the room to search for something. Or… someone.

Realization dawned on him.

No…

He’s not…

It can’t be…

They went too far. He pushed him too far.

Jacob surged forward, tearing across the floor to the crowd.

He should have known, Duncan always keeps his promises no matter what, he should have never took advantage of that and now—

“Out of the way!”

He shoved someone carelessly aside and pushed past the crowd, ignoring the startled yells after him and students trying to stop him. He didn’t care. He needed to get to Duncan.

“DUNCAN!!”

He pushed past the last student and forced his way to the door and… stopped.

An explosion had completely wrecked the room. The door was wide open, revealing the damage done. The cauldron Duncan used for the Erumpent Potion had its top blown clean off, and it laid discarded against the wall, completely destroyed and unusable. The table had been blown into pieces, charred pieces laying about, drenched with water (possibly from Aguamenti), embers flickering weakly in the wreck. Soot covered the walls, and large chunks of rubble were scattered inside and outside the room. Dust filled the air.

He wasn’t focused on any of that.

He was focused on the boy being carried out in the arms of Snape and Pomfrey.

Duncan Ashe laid limp, burnt robes in tatters around him and eyes squeezed shut, an arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Burns littered his body from what Jacob could see, blistering red. Sweat and water drenched his face, smearing the soot over his cheeks and uncovering his skin. Ash and spot drifted through his hair, and his skin was colored a gray pallor.

Jacob surged forward.

“DUNCAN!!”

Hands gripped around his injured friend and pulled him out of the Potions Professor and Matron’s reach. Snape opened his mouth, a look of anger flickering over his face as he looked down at Jacob, before Pomfrey put a hand to his arm with tears in her eyes, shook her head, and led him away.

Where he didn’t know, nor cared.

He was focused on his friend.

Jacob wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him closer, using his other hand to shake him, desperation wrapping its arms around his throat and strangling him.

“Duncan…. Duncan!... Duncan, wake up… wake up please…”

Duncan’s head rolled back and forth, chapped lips gaping slightly. Jacob gritted his teeth, twisting his fist into his burnt robes. His vision started to blur from tears.

“Duncan please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I should have listened! Come on, wake up so Pomfrey can heal you up and we can quit together — come on, wake up, this isn’t funny!!”

Still no answer. He reached out a trembling hand and wiped away some of the soot on his face. It smeared his fingers and colored them black. He didn’t care.

“Duncan!!”

No answer. Why wasn’t he answering him?! He pressed his forehead against Duncan’s, tears rolling down his face as he gritted his teeth, a small cry of pain escaping. He couldn’t feel his breath against his face. He wasn’t breathing. He moved to press his head against his chest.

He didn’t have a heartbeat.

He wasn’t waking up.

There was a dull roaring in his ears as he pulled away and looked down at his friend. Duncan laid limp as always, a look of pain etched permanently on his face. Tears rolled down his face. Numbness seemed to take over.

Duncan Ashe is dead.

Duncan, I’m sorry.

He was unaware of the ghost figure that watched as McGonagall gently pulled Jacob away to let Madam Pomfrey treat the young Slytherin, only for her to give a shake of her head seconds later, a shadow of sadness crossing her face, nor did he see the look of anger on the ghost’s face as he put the blame on himself.

The ghost turned away.

Duncan Ashe is dead.

[somniumoflight]

Crossover Idea #10 – My Hero Academia/Avatar: The Last Airbender

The Fire Nation’s royal family is haunted by two spirits that appear under very specific circumstances – these spirits are Todoroki Shoto and Dabi.

So, I’ve been reading a lot of Avatar fanfictions lately, and amongst the ones I’ve read is this really good BNHA crossover fanfic where Zuko and Todoroki keep accidentally switching places with each other in their respective worlds.  The fanfic itself isn’t too long yet (only 4 chapters so far) but there’s a very long bnha atla swap au tag on @captainkirkk’s tumblr page (might have gotten the acronyms in the wrong order, be forewarned) where people have drawn many, many comparisons between the Todoroki family and the Fire Nation royal family, and that kind of inspired this idea.

So, here’s the rundown of this crossover au.  The first divergence happened a hell of a long time ago, only a couple generations after the first Fire Lord was properly crowned.  The grandson of the first Fire Lord (aka the third Fire Lord, aka guess who this is?) sought the power to surpass his generation’s Avatar, at first with his own flames but eventually by finding a spiritually powerful firebender of mixed blood to force into a marriage, in the hopes that having more than Fire Nation in their blood would make his children strong enough to challenge the Avatar.  This, and that Lord’s abusive “training” of his two sons, backfired on him magnificently when the eldest son first ran away, then tried to lead a rebellion against his father and in the process convinced his youngest sibling to help said rebellion. When the two boys were executed for treason after the rebellion failed, their ghosts lingered, haunting their family so that they could continue trying to bring their father down after death.

Except after their father finally died, they continued to linger in the living world rather than moving on.  So now they haunt the royal family and have been doing so for generations, and slowly over the centuries have become proper spirits rather than just human ghosts – one, a guardian spirit for those betrayed by those of their blood (Shoto) and the other an avenger who lingers as long as the one betrayed wants vengeance but has yet to take it (Dabi.)

Fast forward to when Zuko is alive.  For as long as his father’s been treating him poorly in favor of Azula (so, like, as soon as Azula started bending before him), he’s been catching glimpses of a strange teenager with mismatched eyes and a streak of white in his hair around the palace, usually when something nasty is about to happen to him and then some weird incident happens that stops that something nasty in its tracks.  Nobody but Zuko seems to realize he’s there until after his Uncle comes back from Ba Sing Se, sees the spirit as well, and realizes just how screwed up the royal family’s become.  And then little differences start stacking up, influencing canon as they go and blowing everything off the rails one wheel at a time.

Details of this crossover:

Endeavor was the grandson of the first Fire Lord in the Fire Nation’s history, and the third Fire Lord to be crowned.  He was, according to legend, one of the most powerful Fire Lords to ever rule, and was said to be friends with his generation’s Avatar (who, come on, has to be All Might. Who else could it be?)

However, jealous of the power that that Avatar had, Endeavor forced a woman of mixed Fire Nation and Water Tribe blood (there were probably Water Tribe pirates, let’s say that her mother was fire nation… let’s leave it at that) and great spiritual and (water)bending power to marry him, in the hopes that the mixed blood would make his children powerful enough to contend with the Avatar.

Technically he sort of got what he wanted – his eldest son found it remarkably easy to use the more powerful blue flames that he had such trouble with, and his youngest son figured out how to imitate waterbending by basically pulling a Zuko from Vathara’s Embers – he could put heat into water and manipulate it that way

However, both of these powerful children hated his guts for how he treated them while “training,” and so when the eldest son (Dabi) ran away and eventually returned as the leader of a rebellion against him, and the youngest (Shoto) was convinced to help his oldest brother in order to protect his family, he was “forced” to hunt them down and kill them before they could topple his regime.

The two sons, however, lingered after death as ghosts in order to protect their remaining family from their father (Shoto) and keep trying to kill him as revenge (Dabi).  They lingered for so long waiting for their old man to die that some of the servants in the palace started praying to them as if they were spirits, and as such when Endeavor finally died (Dabi managed to destroy the ceiling in his room somehow and crushed him under the beams) the two ghosts ended up lingering as… guardian spirits of sorts, for their siblings’ descendants.

They only appear when similar circumstances to their own life – one of the royal family trying to hurt (physically or emotionally) one of their siblings, parents, children, etcetera – and otherwise do not interact with the family.

Fast forward thousands of years, Shoto and Dabi have grown in power, and their origins have faded from the annuls of Fire Nation history. Zuko is born to Ozai, and it soon becomes clear that Ozai is not happy with his perfectly good son, and could care less whether he lives or dies. He starts seriously considering hurting the boy when Azula starts bending before him, which is when Shoto first starts appearing.

He mostly protects Zuko from attempts on his life or accidents that could end up hurting him. This includes everything from assassination attempts from people within or without the Fire Nation to, I dunno, random branches falling out of trees that could squash him.  On one memorable occasion Shoto saves Zuko from drowning, which draws the attention of the palace staff and Ozai, since it was so very clearly a spirit that saved him – what else could make water boil and then surge to shore carrying the drowning boy?

Zuko basically ends up growing up in the palace with a spiritual bodyguard hovering over his shoulder that he’s at first barely aware of and knows next to nothing about, save that the spirit is apparently Fire Nation yet controls water somehow, and he seems to grow stronger as the years go on.

Technically, Shoto is getting stronger, but not because more time is passing – it’s because Ozai starts betraying Zuko as a father more and more, and Shoto’s starting to be reminded of his own father, and he DOES NOT APPRECIATE THE SIMILARITIES THANK YOU.

Then the Agni Kai happens – and the entire room of people watching the Agni Kai against Zuko’s father are right there to see Shoto suddenly appear before all of them, extremely pissed off at Ozai.  While most of the people in the room don’t know what his appearance means, Ozai does – he knows what makes this particular spirit appear, and if anyone else in the room knew then he’d be screwed.

So instead of killing Zuko after the Agni Kai, like he was seriously considering, he banishes his son.

Shoto ends up sticking with Zuko throughout all his years searching for the Avatar and throughout the course of the canon story.  His presence doesn’t overly change much, except Aang and eventually Katara and Sokka (after the North Pole) can see him due to their various spirit shenanigans across the nations, and seeing a spirit with the same scar as Zuko throws them through a loop a bit.

Things do make a major change after Azula arrives to take Zuko and Iroh back to the Fire Nation as prisoners.  See, while most people don’t know the true nature of Shoto and Dabi as spirits, one of the few people (other than Ozai) that does is Iroh, mostly thanks to that pilgrimage he took following Ba Sing Se.  And during one particularly bad day when Zuko is basically cursing Shoto’s existence because he doesn’t need help, why is this spirit even here, Iroh decides to tell him exactly why that spirit is there.

Finding out why Shoto is protecting him – because his father has betrayed him, and wants to harm him – shakes Zuko’s faith in Ozai WAY earlier than canon.  It also plants a budding seed of resentment against his father and Azula (who has also betrayed him, if to a lesser extent than his father), which eventually leads to Zuko actually taking Aang and Katara’s side against Azula in Ba Sing Se, instead of later.

This is where Dabi comes into play, because unlike Shoto, who appears whenever Zuko needs to be protected from one of his own blood, Dabi appears whenever Zuko feels resentment and, even if only for a moment, seriously wants to hurt one of his own blood.  Even normal siblings will occasionally want to strangle each other – there’s no way Zuko didn’t seriously want to hurt Azula at some point, even in canon.

So during the fight with Azula, Zuko feels just enough resentment of how perfect an heir to Ozai Azula is that Dabi appears and literally turns Azula’s own flames against her, burning her.  It leaves a nasty scar similar to Dabi’s own across Azula’s face – a scar she cannot hide, a scar that makes her less than perfect, and Zuko is more than a little horrified, especially when he later finds out it was his own anger against her that technically let Dabi hurt her.  He may have seriously wanted to hurt her, but he didn’t actually want to put her in danger from their father, and those scars are very recognizable.

Dabi doesn’t hurt anybody again for a long time, but Zuko keeps seeing him out of the corner of his eye or in reflections, or in dreams of his and Shoto’s past that he starts having following being attacked by another spirit while traveling with the Gaang out of Ba Sing Se or something.

Those dreams eventually lead to Zuko discovering just who Shoto and Dabi were in the past, with help from Iroh and the Gaang, and Zuko decides that not only is he going to help take down Ozai and keep his sister off the throne, but he’s going to do everything in his power to make certain that nobody in the royal family is ever hurt by their family again, at least not like THAT.

After that most things are more or less canon in terms of actual events during the show, and the last bit of canon divergence before the end of the show’s timeline is, when Aang turns up with Ozai after getting rid of his firebending, Ozai tries to convince him to take revenge against him, to burn him, kill him – and Zuko decides that he’s already had his revenge against him.  That’s the last time Dabi appears, when he ends up burning a mark of shame into Ozai’s face and then vanishes and is never seen by any of the Gaang again.

Shoto, on the other hand, lingers for a long time, and Zuko still sees him out of the corner of his eyes as he becomes Fire Lord and works towards a better future for himself and his nation.

Cracky alternative title for this crossover: “Fuck Endeavor and Ozai: Shitty Parents Need to Burn”

[kpophours]

Nightbringer

➵ VAV: (hunter) Lou x fem. (witch) reader / one shot, hunter AU, witch AU / fluff, angst

➵ warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, sexual suggestiveness

➵ word count: 4.7k

➵ series: Baron, Ayno, St. Van, Ziu, Lou, Ace

​"So you're basically saying that a rogue vampire is stalking the city?", Youngbin's face inside your mirror contorts with worry. 

You nod, staring into the scrying glass in front of you, wringing your hands, eyebrows knitting together in worry as well. 

"That's definitely not good."

"I know. Can someone from our Coven take a look at this?"

"Mhm, maybe Ayno or Dawon. Their campus is only about an hour away from the rogue.", Youngbin thinks out loud, making you shake your head. 

"Not them. You know they have enough stuff to do with their research projects and buddy program. No need to trouble them any further."

The older warlock sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right. I'll see what I can do and let you know, okay? Just... don't do anything rash."

You smile angelically at him. "Wouldn't dream of it, Binnie." With that, you lazily wave one hand, his face vanishing from your mirror. 

Looking back into your scrying glass, you gnaw on your lip. You know the city that rogue vampire is stalking right now - you know it very well actually. 

It's the city your boyfriend lives in.

The probability of the rogue ever meeting him is very slight indeed (probably going towards zero), but nevertheless... an uneasy feeling spreads through your whole body. And being a witch gifted with the power of premonition, you learned to trust to your gut very early on in life. 

So you finally stop contemplating, grab your phone and dial Lou's number. 

He picks up after a few rings. "Hey babe, what's up?"

You can't help but smile as soon as your hear his deep voice. "Hey. I just wanted to ask if you're planning on coming over to my place this weekend.", you ask, twirling some strands of hair around your finger and continuing to stare into the scrying glass, not wanting to miss anything the rogue vampire is doing right now (not that you could actually intervene if anything should happen, but still... it makes you feel a little bit better).

"Uh no, sorry. There's something urgent I need to take care of before I can come see you again.”

You curse silently, closing your eyes for a few seconds and taking a deep breath. Time to bring out the big guns. "I just... I had a hard week. Police training is stressing me out and..." 

You hate manipulating him, but lying to maybe save his life is worth it, right?

"And there's been a death in my family."

Technically, it's not a lie - your Coven just sacrificed one of the older witches for the annual Halloween ritual, but with her being a necromancer it won't take long before she'll be back again. 

"What? Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Of course, I'll come as soon as possible. Are you okay? Do you need anything right now?" Lou sounds worried, his voice all soft now.

"No, it's okay. I just need you.", you answer.

"I'm gonna start packing right now. I'll let you know when I'm on my way, okay? Try to get some sleep, if you can. It's getting late."

You smile. "I'll try. See you soon."

With that, you hang up, letting your head fall into your hands. 

You hate lying to him like this, but it's for his own safety - he's a mere human being, so he's too vulnerable. 

You would do anything to protect him.

"I'll send you everything I've managed to gather so far.", Lou says into the speaker of his phone, picking up his travel bag and shouldering it, "If you need anything else, I'm just a call away, okay?"

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. Where are you going, anyway?", the deep voice on the other end of the line asks.

Lou thinks about this for a second before replying: "There's another case I have to take on."

"The details, I'm stunned." St. Van sounds more than just a little sarcastic, making Lou grin, before he answers: "Keep me updated, okay? We need to eliminate that rogue vampire as quickly as possible."

"I know - and I'll do whatever I can to do just that. Don't worry, okay?"

"Worrying is kind of my job as a hunter."

"I know. But you can trust me."

Lou knows this to be true - he and St. Van met by chance a few years earlier and since then, some kind of weird partnership/friendship has blossomed between the unlikely pair. A hunter and a vampire actually working together? Something unheard of before - but times are changing, the new generation of hunters being more open-minded towards the supernatural world. And Lou actually likes the vampire (even though he'd never admit to that), so he knows he can trust him with this case. 

So he simply says "I know.", before hanging up, smugly imagining St. Van's slightly offended look in his mind. 

He knows he has a duty as a hunter - therefore he's more than thankful St. Van has agreed to take this case.

Because Lous also has a duty as a boyfriend - and his girlfriend calling him in the middle of the night and asking him over when there's been a death in her family definitely calls for fulfilling his duty.

So he sends the promised files to St. Van, quickly locking his apartment and jogging towards his car. Before starting the motor, he sends you a quick text to let you know he's on his way, before driving off into the night.

You stare at your phone, heart already feeling lighter thanks to Lou's text confirming he's actually on his way.

You sigh, leaning back and stretching your arms above your head, yawning loudly. It's definitely been too many all-nighters for you by now - but being in police training at the moment as well as monitoring rogue creatures are time-consuming jobs, to say the least.

You tiredly rub your eyes, deciding some camomile tea will help with your restlessness. Boiling some water, you stare off into the distance, trying to sense if anything's wrong in your city tonight.

But apparently, the supernatural world is resting as well.

Taking your steaming mug, you sit down on your bed, turning the pages of a new spell book you found recently. Ayno has had a bit of trouble with one of his spells backfiring: he was apparently trying to dye his hair again, but Dawon messed up his concentration and the spell managed to somehow hit a friend of theirs just entering the apartment. Ayno asked for your help to find a counter spell and return his neighbors' hair to its natural state again. 

Sipping your tea, you read through some pages before concluding that this, unfortunately, is not the right book. You'll definitely need to look for another one (but a witch can never own too many spell books, right?).

So, you slam it shut and look towards your desk. Your scrying glass is waiting for you, but your eyelids are getting heavier with every second. Maybe you should listen to Lou and try to get at least some sleep tonight.

You shuffle over to your desk and stop the scrying with a simple wave of your hand, before stashing the small silver mirror and your new spell book away, locking the bottom drawer of your desk with a simple spell.

Looking around your small studio apartment, you nod once, pleased with yourself. It definitely does not look like a witch lives inside this apartment, your decor being stylish yet homey, but not like... witch-y. Lou won't find anything weird when he arrives, just how it should be. 

You quickly slip into your pj's, before pulling the covers of your bed over your head.

Seconds later, you're already out like a light.

You awake during the early morning hours, when the sky is slowly beginning to turn a pale blue, the mattress dipping beside you. 

Groggily, you open one eye, being greeted by your favorite smile in the whole world. 

"Hey baby.", Lou murmurs, sliding both arms around you and cradling your body against his.

"You're finally here.", you murmur sleepily, burying your face in his chest and closing your eyes again. 

He chuckles. "Finally? It's been only two hours since you called me. I made good time driving here."

"Mhmm.", you just make, already half-asleep again.

"Sleep, baby. I'll still be here when you wake up."

That's the last thing you hear before drifting off once more.

Lou plans to stay for a week, his job as a freelance graphic designer making this possible, and you finally begin to relax again.

The rogue vampire is still on the loose, but your power of premonition tells you he won't be a problem for long anymore, someone - or something - is coming for him.

The next Saturday, Lou tells you he needs to get back home tomorrow. The whole day, you try to come up with a plan to make him stay for even longer - the rogue one is still on the loose after all. 

In the evening though, Lou suddenly changes his mind - looking up from his phone, smiling at you. "Is it okay if I stay for a bit longer? Someone wants to meet me and talk about some details for the new website they’re envisioning.”, he asks - and you're obviously over the moon, agreeing immediately. After pressing a soft kiss against his lips, you resume cooking your infamous Curry for dinner, humming contently. 

That night, you awake in cold sweat, your whole body trembling and making you feel like you need to throw up. Lou is still soundly asleep beside you, one of his arms lazily thrown over your middle. 

You slip out of bed as quietly and carefully as possible, crossing your apartment and hurrying into your small bathroom. You make a complicated gesture with one hand, being greeted by Youngbin's worried face inside your bathroom mirror afterwards. 

"It's the middle of the night!", you hiss, "Why did you wake me?" 

The man inside your mirror doesn't even look remotely sorry for waking you. "This is urgent, Y/N." 

He's using his leader-voice now, letting you know that this is not your friend you're talking to right now, but the leader of your Coven. 

You bite your lip, shifting from one foot to the other. "What is going on?", you ask nervously, trying to keep the volume of your voice as low as possible, not wanting to wake your boyfriend. 

"Eve is back."

At this, you startle, actually taking a step back. "What? That's not possible. S- she was banned. She wouldn't dare to come back here!", you whisper, suppressing a shiver.

"Well, she did. You need to be careful from now on, okay? We don't know what she's planning. But I'm sensing something big." 

Youngbin's gifted with premonition as well, but his power is weaker than yours. Knowing this makes you hesitate. "Why do you sense something and not me, though?"

"My best guess? She's using some demonic power to block you.", Youngbin says, knitting his eyebrows together and staring right through you, his mind beginning to wander, "But I'm not completely sure about it yet. I'll talk to the others, maybe Rowoon can manage to lift the block. I'm thinking about sending Jaeyoon over to you. He will protect you." 

But you quickly shake your head at his suggestion. "I don't need protection. I can handle this on my own." You know Jaeyoon is one of the strongest defensive spell casters of your Coven, but you definitely don't need your warlock-ex around your apartment while your current boyfriend's here as well. 

"Y/N, this is no joke. Eve wants to kill you."

"Thanks for the reminder, I definitely forgot about that.", you retort bitingly, crossing your arms in front of your chest and scowling at Youngbin, who simply stares back, a dark expression on his face as well.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally sighs: "Okay. You win, no further protection for you. If you die, don't you dare come back and haunt me." With that, he vanishes from your mirror.

A knock on your bathroom door makes you jump. "Babe, who you're talking to?", Lou asks from the other side of the door. 

You tousle your hair, silently cursing at Youngbin for waking your boyfriend and open the door. "Me? Oh, I was just... mumbling something to myself. I’m in desperate need of more sleep.", you answer, sliding your arms around Lou's naked torso and pressing a soft kiss against his collarbone. 

He grins down at you, raising one eyebrow in a suggestive manner. "Sleep, huh? I think I have a better idea." With that, he picks you up and carries you back towards the bed, making you giggle. 

"Is that so? Well... I don’t think I’m opposed to your idea.", you answer when he places you gently back on the mattress, pulling him down to you and kissing him deeply.

Sleep can definitely wait for another time.

Lou gazes at his watch again, impatiently tapping his fingers against the steaming coffee mug in front of him. 

Inseong's not late, but he's way too early this morning - all thanks to him wanting to have breakfast with you, before you had to go to your police training.

Just when he wants to order another cappuccino, the door opens and a tall, lean man with blond-dyed hair steps through. His desert fox eyes zone in on Lou, a small smile lighting up the man's face.

"Hey, Lou! How's it going?", Inseong asks, shaking Lou's outstretched hand and clapping him on one shoulder, before sitting down on the other side of the small table. 

"Can't complain. How about you?"

"Same, same. So, what brings you to my beautiful city this time?", Inseong asks, propping his chin onto one hand and gazing at the younger man in a slightly critical manner. 

"Some personal stuff. But now I'm staying because of a new case. Did the Council contact you as well?"

"Yep, just yesterday. So, the Nightbringer is back, huh?”

Lou nods. "It seems like it. What do you know about her? I just heard some rumors and stories, but..."

Inseong immediately interrupts him: "What's that saying? All the stories are true. And that's the case here as well. Believe me, Nightbringer is the worst kind of witch there is, I haven't seen anything like her in years." He actually sounds a bit impressed. "My parents used to tell me about her, about her thirst for power. At first, she sacrificed a bunch of humans to be granted even greater power by some demon - a Prince of Hell apparently. After that she grew even more power-hungry, almost killing her entire Coven when she tried to drown their powers as well." 

Lou shakes his head. He knows a Coven of witches and warlocks is usually like a big family, there's trust and love between them, so a betrayal like this... well, it's unheard of.

"Why did she vanish, though?"

"Well, as far as I know, some of the younger witches and warlocks of said Coven managed to blindside her while she was drowning the powers of the Elders, making her lose some of her own power in the process. She was shunned after that and had to leave the Coven. But apparently she's back now.", Inseong finishes his tale, interlacing his fingers in front of him and gazing at Lou. "And our duty is to make sure she won't sacrifice any more humans to some demon. We have to track her - and end her. With the Council finally managing to get The Colt, we can take her out with just one bullet.”

Lou nods, smiling slightly. "Well, let's do this then - I'm here to assist in any way possible."

Inseong grins. "Sounds good to me."

You try to track Eve with the help of a miniature scrying glass you always carry with you, but apparently Youngbin was right - she's using something to block your power.

Even Rowoon can't figure out what kind of power she's using, just that it's something demonic. 

It keeps you on edge the entire week and Lou staying with you isn't helping at all - the opposite, actually. If Eve shows up at your apartment, he will be in grave danger as well.

But he doesn't leave, saying he still has a job to do in your town. 

As much as you love his company... it's driving you crazy right now. You just want him to be safe - and with an evil (and crazy) witch out there wanting to kill you... well, he won't be, not while he's staying with you.

As a precaution, you cast some defensive spells around your apartment, which definitely won't stop Eve from entering, but will hopefully manage to slow her down for some time.

What you don't know, is Lou finding these spells, thinking they were put there by Nightbringer herself - he quickly and quietly deactivates them, being paranoid that the evil witch has found you thanks to him. 

He definitely doesn’t want to leave your side as long as this case isn’t solved, as long as Nightbringer is still out there, stalking your city and threatening innocent humans like yourself (... if only he knew).

Thanks to your defensive spells being disabled, you don't awake until you feel a silver blade pressing against your neck, drawing blood. Your eyes widen when you see the dark figure hovering above you.

Eve hasn't changed much - she still has the same long hair, the same light green eyes and the same, slightly maniac grin. 

You whimper slightly, eyes sliding towards the still sleeping form of your boyfriend beside you. 

Not Lou, please not Lou, don't kill Lou, you just think over and over again, your whole body beginning to tremble. 

Eve's grin widens. "Hello, daughter.", she hisses, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you out of bed. You groan, suppressing a scream and closing your eyes.

You are prepared to die tonight. 

If you’re being honest, you have been kind of waiting for this to happen ever since your mother was shunned and exiled. All thanks to you.

You mean - you betrayed the woman who gave birth to you. 

You shunned her. 

Thanks to your betrayal, she had to leave her Coven and this city.

You know all this - and would do it again and again, to save your Elders and friends, to save your Coven as well as all the innocent humans your mother wanted to sacrifice in her maniac thirst for power.

Innocent humans like Lou.

"Let's take this outside.", you whisper, "Mother."

She raises one eyebrow. "Oh, because of your human pet?", she says wickedly, "Mhm, no, I don't think so."

With that, she pushes you from her, throwing you against the wall with the help of a spell, your head hitting the concrete with a dumb thud. 

You yelp in surprise and pain, not having anticipated her strength - where did she get all that power from? You were sure she lost most of it thanks to her being shunned and exiled by her Coven.

You fling one hand towards her, casting a silent spell, but she deflects it almost lazily. 

You feel a small trickle of blood running down your cheek, your head beginning to spin. Almost automatically, your eyes slide towards the bed, tears forming in your eyes.

It will be your fault if Lou dies tonight.

... Neither of you have noticed him waking up - his heart almost stopping when he takes in the scene in front of him.

Why is Nightbringer here? In your apartment? Why is she battling you - not him?

His shock lasts only for a few seconds though, before he jumps out of bed. He sees your eyes widen when they slide towards him, but he lays one finger on his lips, signaling you to keep silent.

"Please.", you whimper, not knowing if it's for him or the witch in front of you.

Thankfully, Lou has stored The Colt, given to him by his father and The Council just a few days ago, underneath your bed. He carefully reaches for it without making a sound, dark eyes trained on Nightbringer. You quickly look away from him and fling both hands out, your hair whipping around your head. 

„You were always weak, daughter.“, Eve - Nightbringer - says, lazily waving this spell away as well, „The only good thing about you was your gift of premonition - which you used against me. We could have shared the power I was searching for, Y/N. But you had to betray me.“ 

Silent tears slide down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from your wound. „I never wanted power, mother. And you betrayed me - us, first. Our Coven. How could you?“, you retort, trying to keep her attention on you so she won’t notice Lou silently loading his weapon. 

„Our Coven was weak. There’s so much more for us in this world - why do we hide from humans? Why do we cower in front of vampires and werewolves? The demons can provide us with so much more and all they want is some mere human blood in exchange for unlimited power.“

You choke. „Some mere human blood?! You killed 20 people! They had lives - they had families and jobs and-" 

Before you can continue, she waves her hands and your head begins to feel like its splitting in half; pain consumes your whole body.

This time, you can’t suppress the scream. 

Then, a shot rings through your apartment. 

The pain inside you stops and you fall to the floor, panting, vision blurry with unshed tears. 

Suddenly, Lou is beside you, talking to you, but you don’t register any of his words. 

You just stare at the woman - no, the body laying in front of you. Your mother’s light green eyes are open, but unable to see anymore. Blood pools around her body - oh God, so much blood.

„Y/N? Please, baby, look at me.“ 

You finally look up. „Who are you?“, you whisper, whole body trembling. 

That couldn’t have been an ordinary colt Lou used - knowing your mother, she had protective spells around her, a normal bullet wouldn’t have been able to pierce her shield.

Lou grimaces. „I could ask you the same.“, he simply retorts.

You gaze at one another, silent for a few seconds. 

„You’re a hunter.“, you finally say.

„And you’re a witch. You’re the daughter of Nightbringer.“

You shiver when you hear the name the stories have given your mother - you and your Coven always refused to use that name. Names have power, names spur fear.

„It’s not like I chose to be her daughter.“, you defend yourself immediately and Lou nods. 

„I never said you did. I heard what you said to her - I know you’re nothing like her.“

You release a deep sigh at that. „No, I’m definitely not. I was the one who betrayed her, after all.“, you mumble, glancing down at your hands. 

Red with the blood of your mother. 

There was no love left between you anymore - but still, she was the woman who gave birth to you. Who raised you, who made your favorite cake for birthdays and hung your silly paintings on the fridge. That was before she became crazy and power-hungry, before your father died and took a part of her with him. 

But still. 

She was your mother. 

You wipe away a lone tear running down your cheek, gazing back at Lou.

„What… what now?“, you ask in a small voice. 

He raises one hand, gently stroking your hair. „Let’s get you cleaned and stitched up. And then, I guess, we should talk.“

You bite your lip, nodding and closing your eyes for a second. „Sounds good to me.“

Three weeks later, you startle awake in the middle of the night, trembling and feeling sick to the stomach.

This time though, it’s not thanks to Youngbin calling you to him - this time it’s thanks to your constant nightmares, making you relive your last conversation with your mother as well as her gruesome death.

The bed beside you is empty.

Low murmuring can be heard from your bathroom; you quickly tiptoe towards it.

“What do you mean, you won’t be able to leave your apartment? The sun’s not even that strong at the moment.” Lou sounds annoyed and you knit your eyebrows together. 

What’s going on? Who is he talking to in the middle of the night? 

Your boyfriend sighs. “I’ll try and see what I can do. I’ll get back to you as soon as-" in that second, you open the door. 

He turns around, phone still in his hand. He immediately begins to softly smile at you. „Oh, hey babe. Why are you awake? Did I wake you?” 

You shake your head. „No… it was a nightmare again.“, you just mumble, hugging yourself tightly and choking on unshed tears. 

Lou takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss against your palm. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a second.” 

You gaze at him critically, before nodding and retreating towards your bed. You snuggle back into your blankets and pillows, waiting for Lou to join you. 

Just minutes later, he slips between the covers and pulls you against him, pressing light kisses against your cheeks, nose and finally, lips. 

„Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.“, he mumbles, warm breath fanning over your face, „But that was St. Van.“

You raise both eyebrows. „He didn’t catch the rogue yet.“, you say and Lou nods. 

„I know. He attacked a young woman and St. Van takes care of her now - he doesn’t want to leave her side. So I guess I’ll have text Inseong to take a look at the situation. He seemed to be very interested in the rogue vampire, last time I talked to him.“

You nod. „That sounds like a good idea. Do that, then.“

Lou smiles at you, his eyes forming little crescents. 

You pull him closer to you, kissing him softly.

„I’ll use my scrying glass tomorrow and see if I can locate the rogue.“, you say, when you break apart again.

Your boyfriend leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. „Good idea. By the way... I was thinking about something… Do you think your Coven would be interested in starting some kind of... I don’t know, partnership with us, the hunters?”

You think about this for some seconds, before slowly nodding. „I would say so, yes. We’re a pretty young Coven and more open-minded than some of the older ones. I’ll definitely talk to Youngbin about it.“

Lou seems pleased. „And I’ll talk to The Council, I know he’ll listen to me. This could mark the beginning of a new chapter, you know?“

You smile. „Where the human and supernatural world stand side-by-side against evil forces.“, you say.

He smirks. „That sounds very dramatic. I like it.“

You giggle, kissing him again. „I’m a witch - we have a flair for the dramatics.“

„Oh, I know. That’s why I love you.“

You soften at that, blushing a bit. „Well, I love you, too. You’re actually pretty okay for a hunter.“

Lou huffs playfully. „First of all, I’m not okay, I’m amazing - at everything. And especially at being a hunter!“

You smirk. „Well, you didn’t find out about me being a witch until I was literally casting spells in front of you. I think that says a lot about your skills as a hunter, so-“

Before you can continue, he begins to tickle your sides, making you laugh.

„Say that I’m an amazing hunter!“, he threatens, not letting go of you, even though you’re gasping for breath.

You shake your head. 

„Say it!“

„NO! I’ll say that you’re an amazing boyfriend, though.“, you gasp out, finally making him stop his torture of you.

He actually blushes a bit, beginning to grin like an idiot. „Well, I’ll take what I can get.“

With that, he kisses you again.

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[foxtophat]

in chapter 3, nick brings john some food and tries to interrogate him, but it doesn’t go quite as planned. john sure is acting weird! i mean, weirder than usual. i mean, usual for john, anyway. i mean... well, let’s just say that nick is as in control as he can be in today’s update!

WHEW i really like this chapter actually, i had fun editing and writing it and all that. soooo i’ve been doing weekly updates but for the sake of consistency i’m going to be changing that to a bi-weekly schedule instead. gives me more time to flesh out these thinner chapters before i get them out to you, the viewer!

speaking of viewers, DAMN thank you guys for the warm ass welcome for this story! i’m so glad to see that people are enjoying my self-indulgent mess. i’ve had so much fun working on it by myself but i’m having even more fun now that i know other people like it!

hey, i’ll slap the text of this chapter below the cut so you don’t have to go off-site if you don’t feel like it. if you read, please consider reblogging, as that’s the best way for me to get this update out there :) otherwise, just like, have a good day and junk!

John is, unfortunately, still alive when Nick goes to check on him. He even seems to be aware of his surroundings, unsurprised when Nick opens the door and downright guarded as Nick approaches him with a plate of vegetables and some smoked venison. The role reversal doesn't sit right at all with Nick, but at least he knows he's in control of the situation for now. Give the bastard a couple of nights of good rest and John will no doubt attempt to get back on top, but tonight he's too sick to do anything but cringe away as Nick unceremoniously drops into a crouch and drops the plate in his general direction.

Tense, with his fingers twisting in the blanket below him, John rasps, "What's this?"

Nick frowns. "Food," he snaps, trying not to let his own rudeness bother him. He doesn't have to feel guilty being short with John — it's fucking John . Nick should be mad at himself for not being more of a dick! Being in a position that would earn a normal person sympathy doesn't mean squat when the guy is a murdering, violent psychopath wearing the thin veneer of a human being! He doesn't deserve anything Nick gives him, besides a swift and merciless kick to the temple.

Nick exhales heavily and reluctantly adds, "You look like you need it."

It's only once Nick rises to his feet again that John reaches for the plate, dragging it into his lap and proving Nick right as he quickly begins to inhale his food. It's alarming to watch John cramming jerky and vegetables into his mouth hand-over-fist, and despite himself he warns, "Slow down, you're gonna choke."

John stops eating like a switch has been flipped, dropping his hands to the plate as though he's been physically restrained. He doesn't say anything, just twists his fingers against the rim and stares at Nick's boots.

Okay.

This, uh. This is weird.

Nick feels his unease chewing at his nerves. "Well?" he snaps, trying to bluster his way through it.

"Well, what ?" John asks in return. There's an edge of annoyance in his voice, an old-world relic of John's normally nasty attitude, but it's not enough to reassure Nick.

"You know what. You're supposed to be dead . Rook put you down almost a decade ago, and I dunno if you noticed, but there's been a nuclear apocalypse since then. There's no way I'm putting you in your grave before you tell me how you got this far in the first place."

It's a lie, but the important part is that Nick sounds tough when he says it.

John clenches his jaw in response and finally meets Nick's glare with his own steely gaze. "They shot me," he says, his ragged voice still managing to scrape together enough attitude to sound vaguely condescending. He touches his gut, fingers prodding gently. "Then, the deputy left me for dead. I assume they returned to your welcoming arms."

Ugh, it is so fucking weird to hear John's passive-aggressive bullshit. Eight years apparently wasn't enough time for him to get over his nasty infatuation, if he's still bitter about Rook picking the Ryes over his own family.

"All of us were happy you were gone," Nick says, unwilling to indulge in John's creepy pity-lust for the deputy. "So, what then? How did you find that bunker? How'd you even know it was there ?"

John picks up a piece of jerky, bending it between his thumb and index finger. "It was my backup plan."

"What, in case the Cult backfired on you?" Nick scoffs loudly as John silently pops the piece of meat into his mouth. "I bet your brother would be real pleased to know you tried to weasel your way out of his prophecy."

John chews and swallows. "I doubt Joseph survived the Deputy at close range. I doubt I'll survive the second round myself. Where... is the Deputy, anyway? Shouldn't they be here casting down judgment, too?"

Nick sets his jaw. "I don't know," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "Nobody knows. They went to confront Joseph, but with all the Bliss in the air... I don't know. We lost track of them in the chaos. If they've had access to a radio, they haven't used it to contact anyone."

If John has any insight into what might've happened, he doesn't share it. He picks at a few pieces of carrot but it seems like he's lost his appetite again. "I see," he says, too pensively for someone who seems half out of their gourd.

"So, you survived being shot down, crawled into a hole with a gut full of buckshot, survived that , and then... what?"

"You saw what," John sighs. He looks tired — all this talking must be wearing him out. It's hard to believe John Seed is too weak to hold a conversation, considering how hard it used to be to get him to shut the fuck up. Nick tries not to spend too much time thinking about it.

"You want me to believe that you spent eight years just sitting there ?" Nick asks. The disbelief in his voice doesn't come close to the incredulity he's feeling. There's no way that John spent the last eight years in a quiet limbo. Hell, Nick's bunker life wouldn't make for riveting television or anything, but he still did more than exist . Even if he was on his own, John had to have some kind of — of backup backup plan, a plot to manipulate the nuclear apocalypse in his favor, something . Right?

"What do you want me to say? The bunker was lacking in entertainment. I was trapped alone, miles away from the Project, with nowhere near enough supplies. I was certain I would die before the first year was over, and from then on I assumed every day would somehow become my last. My being here is as much a surprise to you as it is to me."

He glances up, watching Nick's reaction with a wariness Nick isn't comfortable with. It's too much like a wounded dog, and John has to be playing some kind of angle to be using it.

"I had a radio, but no microphone," he says. "All I could do was listen."

Nick remembers what the radio channels were like for the first couple of months after the bombs dropped. Everyone going through every step of the grieving process over the world they'd known, screaming, begging, arguing, crying all the time. Lots of repentant Peggy idiots cursing Eden's Gate, even more innocent people sending out their last painful goodbyes. Kim would talk to them, sometimes, but for a while, it was safer to just leave the damned thing off.

"Eventually, the radio died," John mutters. "I thought it would be... better, somehow, being isolated. After all, that's how Joseph spoke to God, and I had a lot of questions that He might have answered."

"The last thing we need is another hallucinating prophet," Nick warns. He hopes John tries to sell him on some new-wave Josephism, though — he'd love to shoot the guy on principle and be done with everything. Boy, would that take a load of ethical weight off his back!

John's lips tighten wryly. "Apparently I don't possess the same qualities that made Joseph such an inviting disciple," he says. "I was alone. For... seven years, eight months, three days. Give or take."

"You keep a calendar down there?" Nick snaps, as if he and Kim hadn't quickly sorted time out themselves.

"I did," John replies, somewhat smugly. "Long enough to know when I ran out of supplies, at least. After that, it wasn't long before I had to leave the bunker. I couldn't... I couldn't take it anymore."

Nick waits for John to continue, but he doesn't. There must be more to it than that, Nick's sure of it, but John doesn't seem capable of handling the conversation.

John drops his line of sight to the pistol holstered at Nick's hip. He seems to be waiting for something.

"What happens now?" he asks, once whatever he's waiting for fails to happen. No doubt he expects Nick to brandish the gun in his face, to intimidate him or threaten him or... whatever. Shoot him, probably, because not even John Seed would be stupid enough to give himself clemency for all his crimes.

"Now?" Nick repeats. "Well, I guess that depends on you." He crouches down once more, sure that he's well out of John's grasp as he does so. He wants John to look him in the eye. "See, it's been a while, but I still really fuckin' hate you. After everything you've done, to me, my family, my home ... Honestly, I should've probably put you down the moment I recognized you."

John meets Nick's hard glare with the resolve of a condemned man. "Why didn't you?" he asks.

"Because I haven't had to kill anybody in nearly a decade, and y'know, I'd like to keep that streak." Nick jabs a finger at John, inwardly pleased when he recoils to avoid contact. " You're the one who came to Hope County looking for a fight. So I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet."

Nick figures he sounds pretty intimidating, but John doesn't seem moved by the indirect threat. Of course he isn't. The guy built half a religious movement out of his sadomasochism — he's not going to feel threatened by Nick, not even if he were holding a pair of pliers to his teeth. He doesn't even give Nick the satisfaction of asking what he means — he only stares and waits for Nick to hand down his sentence.

"First, we gotta see if you're gonna make it through the night," Nick says, gesturing towards the abandoned plate. "After that, I'm gonna put you to work. Kim and I, we got a list of things we need to get done. It's back-breaking manual labor, and you're gonna be the one whose back breaks." Nick rises to his feet, trying to seem tough when in reality, his knees are starting to ache, and he can't afford to throw one out over a show of force. "You do what you're told with no back-talking, and I guess we'll find a way to keep you fed."

"And if I don't?"

"I don't think you're in any position to refuse, jackass. Nobody else is going to think twice about shooting you around here. The cult, your followers, family, they're all dead and gone. Anyone left who knows your face is gonna want to smash it to bits, and they aren't going to be inclined to be as generous as Kim and I are being. So it's either this, or I throw you back in that bunker where you belong."

For a moment, Nick thinks that John might try to turn him down anyway. He hopes he does — it'd be nice to get to punch the guy without feeling guilty for hitting a seriously ill man. But John's pale face belies how desperate he is to avoid that bunker of his, and eventually he gives in with a slow, resigned nod.

"You're right," John replies, voice hoarse from exhaustion. "Joseph — the Project — it's all gone. And I..."

John trails off with a heavy, resigned sigh. He looks up at Nick through a thick clump of long, tangled hair that's fallen over his face. "I'm at your mercy," he finally says, dropping Nick's gaze immediately after as though he doesn't expect much mercy at all.

"What, that's it?" Nick asks, honestly fucking confounded at the lack of backtalk. He'd made a good argument, sure, but — what? "No arguing? No negotiating, no defending the cult? No trying to deflect blame?"

"What good would it do?" John replies. Despite everything, he manages to scrape together enough attitude to look unimpressed by Nick's entire deal. It's the first time since realizing John was alive that Nick feels a twinge of that old-fashioned irritation that used to make shooting John seem so appealing. "I have nothing. You've won, Nick. I hope you've been enjoying the prize."

"I ought to punch you," Nick snaps. "Lucky for you, I'd feel bad for giving you a beat-down in your sorry state." He nudges the plate with his boot, sliding it closer to John. "I'll be back with some water so you can clean yourself up. You stink enough to put me off my own dinner. Anything else, well..."

He gestures to the ratty, mildewy pile of junk that they've been collecting in the room, as if any of it could be useful. Broken picture frames, mouse-torn bedding, broken down cardboard boxes and more all piled innocently away in what was going to be Carmina's room. Looking at it fills Nick with a sense of profound sadness that he shoves right back down where it belongs.

"You can figure something out," he tells John, who doesn't seem capable of making another dig at Nick's new position as prison guard. Unwilling to be moved by John's labored breathing as he simply nods in return, Nick quickly about-faces, storming from the room with just enough anger to hide the retreat for what it is.

[quicksilversquared]

Lost Heart: Chapter 4

Gabriel: Part 2

Magic can be a dangerous thing to play around with, particularly when that magic is tangled up in a curse. When Nathalie Sancoeur experiments with magic that she doesn’t fully understand, it sends her on a path to become Paris’ most dangerous supervillain and tips the balance between superheroes and supervillain.

But which way will the balance fall?

links in the reblog

–0-0-0-0–0–

Everything was not all right.

After only a couple more transformations, Nathalie was pushing to become the real driving force behind the akumas. She became a backseat director, following the battles on her computer and barking directions to Gabriel, the tone of her voice making it clear that she expected her directions to be followed. In an attempt to cooperate with her and bring Nathalie back under his direction, he followed her instructions as much as he could (or as much as he was willing), pushing the akumas to get the Miraculous before they went off and did their revenge or whatever it was that they wanted to do.

It had backfired. Badly. By now, every single akuma knew that the ones before them had been defeated and had lost their powers, so they wanted to get their revenge first and then deal with the superhero duo later. They argued with Hawkmoth, insisting that they should at least be able to do their own thing for long enough to get a handle on their powers before they plunged into battle- which, okay, that was a fair enough point. Hawkmoth tried to compromise with them, trying to tell the akumas to withhold some of their powers as a surprise once Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up, but… well, it didn't always happen. Add in the fact that some of the akumas only ever had one power- he was getting better at coming up with more than one power for his akumas to have on the spot, but it didn't always happen- and sometimes there wasn't an option for them to hide their powers, and that particular strategy fell flat really fast.

(One time, he and the akuma had been so focused on their argument that Ladybug and Chat Noir were able to sneak up on the akuma, snatch the possessed item, break it, and purify the butterfly before the akuma even had time to react. Which was a tragedy, really, because that akuma had had so much potential.)

Once he got a repeat akuma, he could think back to the files he had discussed with Nathalie and throw in a few new powers, powers that could stay hidden until Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up. But repeats weren't that common (Pigeon Man aside, of course), and Gabriel was always put on the spot and scrambling when his akumas were actually transforming. If he came up blank, then Nooroo's powers would fill in and give the akuma some basic powers.

Basic powers weren't cutting it anymore. They hadn't been cutting it for a while. They needed to grow and improve to get ahead of Ladybug and Chat Noir, or else they would be seriously outpaced.

It was a pity that he couldn't recall powers mid-fight and re-issue them with power-ups once he came up with more ideas. Once a target was deakumaized, unless they knowingly and willingly accepted the akuma again, they were done. There was no second chance for him.

Unless the target wanted to be akumatized again. Which wouldn't happen unless they had started the whole thing wanting to be akumatized. Which- well, there were only two people who thought like that, really. Nathalie and that one girl from Adrien's class, the one who hated Ladybug.

Perhaps Gabriel would have to consult with Nathalie and see if she could come up with power-ups for Volpina, or think of other ways that the girl could be akumatized. Ladybug and Chat Noir had gone up against her visions several times now and knew how to defeat them. If she could be given a power up, somehow- if one of her illusions could actually be reality without giving away which one….

Well, it was something to think about. He could try it, at least. It was entirely possible that Gabriel was reaching the limits of Nooroo's easily accessible powers and that he wouldn't be able to overextend his kwami further. He would have to look at the book again and see if he could decipher anything more.

Not that he had really been able to decipher anything in the first place. All of the spells that he had- they were things that Emilie had figured out and that he had just happened to find half-translated in what few notes she hadn't hidden.

"Give me an akuma. I'll decipher the book."

Gabriel stared at Nathalie, startled. Why hadn't he thought of that? It was obvious. "That's a great idea, Nathalie! We should have thought of it ages ago-"

"Spare me the flattery and platitudes. An akuma, Gabriel."

Needless to say, the plan to get firmly into Nathalie's good graces and manipulate her from there was going less than well.

"Of course! Let's move upstairs first, since I believe Adrien is meant to be coming home soon-"

"He has fencing today and will be coming home in two and a half hours."

Gabriel swallowed and nodded. Nathalie had been efficient before, when she still had her heart. Now she was absolutely terrifying. Meetings and schedules were memorized fully, and could be recited off at a moment's notice. "All right. But there's still the household staff, and we don't know how long the translation will take."

Nooroo popped out of the drawer that Gabriel had stashed him in. "Translation? What translation?"

"The books and the scrolls, of course. What else would we be translating?" Gabriel started gathering them up, along with a blank notebook for Nathalie to record the translations. "Come, Nooroo. Nathalie, meet us up there in three minutes."

Nathalie nodded. Gabriel tucked the book and three scrolls under his arm and hit the buttons to head up to his lair. Nooroo hastily flew after him.

"Master, are you sure-"

"Don't try to talk me out of this, Nooroo. It's an obvious solution to a large problem. I learn what's written on these pages, I write it down, I can use the power-ups that Ladybug and Chat Noir already have access to! I'll win at last, and my wish will revive Emilie and give Nathalie her heart back."

"Master, for every wish-"

"I know what I'm doing, Nooroo."

Nooroo tried one more time as Gabriel ascended into the lair. "Master, there's something-"

"Enough, Nooroo. Transform me!"

Butterflies swirled around him as his suit materialized. Hawkmoth brushed some imaginary dust off of the lapel before stepping off of the elevator so that Nathalie could use it. Seconds later, it descended back into the house.

"All right, my little akuma," Hawkmoth muttered, reaching out and capturing one of the fluttering butterflies. "Let's get you ready to corrupt her!"

The elevator hummed as it returned. Hawkmoth ignored the dread in his gut that had started appearing every time he and Nathalie had to be together. There was no reason for him to be worried this time. Nathalie had made a suggestion that was reasonable- no deaths or maiming involved- and he was acting on it immediately. She would be pleased.

As pleased as Nathalie ever got anymore, at least, which really wasn't much.

Maybe they would be distracted enough by the translations in the book that she could take a week off from transforming and actually make a small bit of a recovery, or at the very least stop getting more heartless.

"I'm ready," Nathalie announced as soon as she came into view. She held out her wrist, where she had tied a small bracelet. "Put it in there."

Hawkmoth tipped the akuma onto Nathalie's wrist and watched as the cloud of darkness enveloped her. A moment later, it cleared, leaving Nathalie- Decrypter, now- in a sharp suit with a very techno-looking headset. She reached an impatient hand out, gesturing for the book. Hawkmoth handed it over eagerly, ready to at long last access the secrets of the Miraculous.

He could just taste victory now. With a few power-ups at once, he should be able to defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir in no time at all, and then he could do his wish and get Emilie and his normal life back. Hawkmoth wondered how much of this timeline he would be able to remember. He would be fine with forgetting it entirely, honestly, but somehow he suspected that as the wish-caster, he would remember it. Still, it could be pushed aside and forgotten as a bad dream, one that held no importance at all.

Gabriel wasn't going to tell Emilie what he had done to break the curse and get her back. She didn't need to know. It wasn't as though it would make a difference. All it would accomplish would be making her furious with him.

"I- I can't read it."

Hawkmoth was suddenly pulled from his daydreams of vacationing with his wife and thrown back into cruel reality. He frowned at Decrypter. "What?"

"It looks exactly the same as before." Decrypter pulled her goggles off and frowned at them. There weren't any dials or buttons for her to push to change the settings or anything like that. "My powers are broken."

"Should we try using another code?" Hawkmoth suggested warily. "Maybe we- maybe I didn't focus hard enough on what powers I wanted. Uh, maybe I can pull something up on my cane..?"

Decrypter frowned. "Or on my tablet. I brought it up."

Hawkmoth looked. Sure enough, she had done just that. He picked it up, pulling up a page with sentences in an assortment of codes. He turned it towards Decrypter and waited.

"That's simple. Child's play. It looks like normal sentences."

Now completely confused, Hawkmoth released his transformation. He scowled at Nooroo as soon as he was free. "What do you think you're doing? Why can't Nathalie read the book or the scrolls?"

"I tried to tell you!" Nooroo protested. "The book is spelled so that we kwamis can't read it, and that ban extends to using our powers to read it! It's a safety measure."

Gabriel scowled, and he could see Decrypter doing the same. "That's convenient."

Nooroo held firm. "That was what the Guardians did. It was not our choice."

Gabriel growled, and Decrypter released her akuma with a swirl of dark purple smoke. Nathalie was scowling. "We'll find a way around that yet."

"We're not going to give up on cracking the code," Gabriel added, gathering up the grimoire and the scrolls. "Maybe I pushed that to the side because I thought that it wouldn't be useful, but now- we will push to translate it. And then when we do-"

"We'll be unstoppable," Nathalie finished, eyes glittering. "All of Paris will cower before us. And we will win."

 ----0-0-0----

 Whatever code the grimoire's authors used was impossible to crack. Gabriel set aside an hour of time every day to try to make a dent in it, but so far all that he had accomplished was making himself frustrated and angry.

And making Nathalie frustrated and angry, which was- well, that was worse. It made her want to transform more, to actually be able to control something.

Since Nathalie wasn't the one with the Butterfly Miraculous, that something that she was controlling was Gabriel. He could see her trying to extend her control onto Adrien, but. Well.

Gabriel might have made a lot of missteps lately, but he was not going to let Adrien pick up on the fact that something was wrong with Nathalie. He had to draw the line in the sand somewhere, and he could tell that sooner or later, Nathalie would be dangerous to be around.

He could handle it. After all, Gabriel had superpowers at his beck and call. Adrien didn't.

So Gabriel put the Gorilla in charge of fetching Adrien for his various activities whenever he could, and when he couldn't- when the Gorilla was ill or busy or gone home for the day- Gabriel stepped in.

He tried not to feel bad about the way Adrien lit up when Gabriel fetched him for dinner, or popped his head in to announce the arrival of his piano or Mandarin teachers, or interrupted Adrien's breakfast to tell him about changes to his schedule. The change wasn't for any of the reasons that Gabriel knew that Adrien was thinking of, but simply because the other option- allowing Nathalie to continue coming in contact with Adrien- was too dangerous, and Adrien would only ask questions if he hired another person to update Adrien on his assorted activities.

(Besides, one more person around the house meant one more person who could potentially find out about him and go to the police, and they- they couldn't have that. No, it was better to use the people already around the house.)

Still, it was good that Adrien was happy. If he were upset- well, Gabriel had ignored Adrien's perfectly akumatizeable emotions before, simply because he knew that Emilie would have had his head for it. But with Nathalie keeping an eye on his every move, Gabriel knew that she would insist that he not miss any potential opportunities.

She wouldn't even comment on the symmetry of Adrien coming together with his father- well, with Gabriel's powers, at least- to bring his mom back. No, by now Nathalie would simply see Adrien as another potential tool.

And despite everything- despite all of his questionable actions and perhaps less-than-stellar behavior- that, Gabriel wouldn't be able to stand.

Nathalie was concerned with other things. With the grimoire looking like a dead end, she turned her attention to the extra powers they did have.

"We should do Catalyst and Scarlet Moth again," she announced one morning, striding into the office with purpose in her step. "That was a serious power-up, and you didn't need any spells to get it to work."

"Nooroo was wiped out for over a week after that last time," Gabriel protested automatically, and then his mind caught up to what he was saying. For a week. If Nathalie was transformed as Catalyst, then she wouldn't be Mayura. And no transformations and no akumas for a week meant more time for some of her humanity to return.

Well. If that was even an option anymore, that was. Maybe she had gone too far for a week to make any real difference. She had transformed far more times than Emilie had, after all.

"When we win, there won't be any need to transform again," Nathalie said sharply. "You talk as though it's inevitable that we will lose. You came close to winning before- if we go through what mistakes were made and where we can improve, a second run-through could come up differently."

Gabriel frowned. "Such as?"

"Announcing to the world where you were. Stealth would help you." Nathalie pulled out a pad of paper and started scribbling as she talked. "Specifically targeting a few people so that they have more than their base powers. Using Volpina to cause confusion by making you appear where you are not."

"I did that already."

"Only on a very small scale. I'm talking across the city." Nathalie slapped down a map of Paris, covering all of Gabriel's drawings on his desk. "They wouldn't expect it. They would know to watch their backs when they're approaching what might be a illusion of you, so we can't do that again right away, but there's no reason why we can't change it up."

Gabriel thought about that. It was true, they had come very close to succeeding with Catalyst and Scarlet Moth. With a few new tricks in their book, they should win. "Okay. But we're going to have to come up with another plan to scare everyone in the city. Too many people saw through the last attempt, and even more would see through it if we do it again."

"We do something that isn't Miraculous-related, then. Or doesn't appear to be Miraculous-related, if you're too weak-hearted to actually blow anything up." Nathalie pulled out a pen and a small notepad and Gabriel tried his best to ignore the last part of her comment. "We might need more than one akuma to do that and make it believable, though. Or an akuma… and an updated Catalyst."

Gabriel frowned. He wasn't liking the sound of this. "What do you mean, not Miraculous-related?"

"A mysterious explosion in a large building. A collapse. Something that would plunge people into confusion and panic." The smile on Nathalie's face was cold. "It would be an illusion, of course. And then Catalyst could have some powers to make people in the building fall asleep, so they wouldn't be able to break the illusion."

Gabriel frowned. If it was just an illusion, maybe that would be okay. "And that would be enough to throw Paris into a panic?"

"If there were several buildings to go, minutes after each other. People would think that there had been an attack." Nathalie bent over her map, circling several large buildings. The City Hall, the Louvre, several office buildings. "Famous places and lesser-known buildings. People would worry about their loved ones, and if they would be next."

"I- okay," Gabriel agreed. "As long as it's all illusion." He paused. "You seem certain that we'll be able to get Volpina again."

Nathalie rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. That girl's been akumatized how many times now? Put an akuma in the room that she's in and it'll be an hour at most before she accepts it. She likes being an akuma and she hates Ladybug."

"Very well, we'll try it," Gabriel agreed, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut that Emilie would be furious about him essentially replicating terrorist attacks in the city to instill fear in everyone. But she wouldn't find out, after all, and he had to act soon. "Anything else that we want to change?"

And with a triumphant smirk, Nathalie told him.

                        ---------

 Catalyst transformed first. She powered up Hawkmoth, who sent a scarlet butterfly out to tail Lila Rossi. It took all of five minutes before she noticed it and eagerly accepted it, proving that she was a very willing accomplice.

Odd, but Hawkmoth wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The first building 'collapsed' mid-afternoon, shaking the ground and sending red flames into the sky. Confusion and terror started spreading.

Hawkmoth waited.

The second building went five minutes later, the rounded rooftops of City Hall appearing to crash to the ground. Another office building went right after it.

Paris was terrified.

"One more," Catalyst announced over their connection. "One more, and then we can act."

"Any sign of Ladybug and Chat Noir?" Hawkmoth asked.

"None. No one has figured out that it's an akuma attack yet." He could hear her smirk over the connection. "And when they do appear, they aren't going to be on guard at all."

"Don't engage them," Hawkmoth instructed. "If they take you out, the scarlet butterflies will vanish."

Catalyst scoffed. "You think that I don't know that? Who, exactly, is in charge of this entire fight?"

Hawkmoth gulped, realizing with a start that Nathalie really could not be considered a supervillain sidekick anymore, nor had she been the sidekick for a while. She was the one directing this battle. He was just the one with the butterflies. "You. I was just thinking aloud."

"Think aloud with more sense, then. And it's time for you to move out into position."

Hawkmoth nodded, tapping the tablet in his hand so that he could see the feed from the cameras outside. The streets were empty. "All right. Good luck."

By the time Hawkmoth reached a good vantage point, Pairs was gripped in terror. The smell of smoke hung in the air- and adding that particular power-up to Volpina's set had been a genius idea from Nathalie, really- and the sirens from fire trucks were starting to sound.

Their illusions would likely break soon enough, so Hawkmoth had to act fast. With a sweeping gesture, he released hundreds of scarlet butterflies on Paris.

By the time people realized what was going on, it would be too late.

Nooroo's powers stretched thinner as more and more people were akumatized across the city. Akumas new and old formed, blasting holes in the roads and pulling those who hadn't been akumatized under their mind control. Hawkmoth grinned as he spotted Stormy Weather rising above the rest, twirling her umbrella in one hand as storm clouds gathered above Paris and the wind started to pick up.

She wasn't going to be the new, insanely powered Stormy Weather, but she had been a difficult opponent for the superheroes both times when she had been akumatized. If he paid special attention to where she was and pulled her into being on the offensive instead of letting her roam free, she could make or break the whole battle.

Fear was giving way to panic and anger all across Paris as people realized that Hawkmoth was taking advantage of the situation. People were helpless to stop it, though, which was exactly where he wanted them.

This time, his army was bigger than ever, and it was still growing.

"Control Stormy Weather!" Catalyst snapped in his ear. "She's going to make it rain or hail, and that will break the illusions. We're already having enough trouble keeping the fire trucks from reaching the illusions without one of your akuma coming along and spoiling it all."

Hawkmoth nodded, searching among his many connections to reach Stormy Weather. "Stormy Weather! Hold on to your rain and hail for now. Later on, you can storm as much as you want."

He could practically feel the pout through the connection. "Then what am I meant to do? Just blow air around?"

"Lightning is fine. Gusts of wind are fine. If you wanted to whip up a tornado, I wouldn't stop you. Just no rain. Let it build. Actually!" Hawkmoth exclaimed, realizing that he could take out two birds with one stone. "Use your weather to keep the fire trucks from reaching the collapsed buildings!"

"I will, Hawkmoth!"

"Ladybug and Chat Noir sighted," Catalyst reported. "I'm moving back to safety. Don't let them take out your cane this time."

"Of course."

Over the next few minutes, swarms of butterflies found their marks. Hordes of akumas- Hawkmoth cringed at a couple, because they did not look good in red- swarmed over Paris. Then they hit the first hurdle.

Nooroo's power was straining. Akumas were getting increasingly less powerful and less connected to him, which meant that he might have some turn against him if he continued. After a second's consideration, Hawkmoth pulled back the remaining unclaimed butterflies, leaving them to hover above the city as a threat, one that he wouldn't actually carry out but no one else knew that.

Minutes later, a gust of wind from Stormy Weather accidentally blew a branch into the first of the illusions, shattering it. There was a spike of confusion, and then fury.

Hawkmoth winced. Yeah, it was a good thing that his butterflies had been recalled. That was concentrated fury at him, and it wouldn't have gone well for him if they got powers.

The other illusions fell quickly after that. Hawkmoth ignored it- they had served their purpose, after all- and focused on relocating Volpina's link. It wasn't hard to find.

"Volpina, I need you to make an illusion of me on the Notre-Dame," he instructed her. "We need to lure in Ladybug and Chat Noir. And if you see Stormy Weather, tell her she's free to storm, as long as she stays away from the illusion."

"I'll do that, Hawkmoth."

In the streets, the akuma army milled. Hawkmoth watched them for a bit, smirking.

Maybe not all of them had great powers, but there was strength in numbers. They would wear down Ladybug and Chat Noir eventually. Hawkmoth was feeling hopeful.

And then his connection to Catalyst opened back up.

"These akuma are useless!" Catalyst seethed, anger obvious in her tone. "The superheroes are out, and they've already taken out over a dozen of the akumas!"

"Just Ladybug and Chat Noir?" Hawkmoth asked, but he had a feeling that he already knew the answer. "Or all of them?"

"Three of them. Queen Bee got akumatized already, as we hoped, and Rena Rouge hasn't shown up."

"Three is better than five. More manageable."

"Except they probably have the other Miraculous on them, ready to give out. And Ladybug and Chat Noir are plowing through the akuma, taking their butterflies while Carapace keeps the other akuma back." Catalyst sounded displeased. "Send Stormy Weather in!"

"Right, and I'm going to go over there, too. They'll be distracted." Hawkmoth smirked at the thought. Distracted heroes would be easy targets.

Or maybe not. Besides playing shield, Carapace was also keeping a sharp eye out for danger. By the time Hawkmoth had made his way over, Rena Rouge had also managed to join the fight, straight-up knocking out akumas with her flute and tossing their possessed items over to Ladybug to purify. Some citizens had even joined in, wrestling the weaker akumas to the ground and grabbing the possessed items for Ladybug.

They had definitely made a dent in Hawkmoth's underpowered akumas, but he wouldn't let himself get too discouraged by that. There were still plenty of good akumas around, he just had to call them in. No sane person would get anywhere close to Stormy Weather or Stoneheart- if Stoneheart was even still around, Hawkmoth wasn't certain- and there were other akuma, too, ones with real powers at their fingertips.

"Stormy Weather, call up some fog so that the superheroes can't see," Hawkmoth ordered. "Make it thick down on the street. If you want to call down some lightning as well..."

"I'll brew up the perfect storm!"

The view on the street started getting misty right away. Hawkmoth circled overhead on the rooftops, eyes narrowed as he watched for an opening. Ladybug's yo-yo was going so fast that it was letting out a high-pitched whirr, sounding almost lethal. Chat Noir's baton was extending and shrinking back faster than his eye could track as he lashed out at akumas and swung his baton around, keeping it from hitting the sidewalk or his teammates almost instinctively. Carapace and Rena Rouge were clearly nowhere as experienced- they would be easier targets- but they were holding their own as they tussled with akumas, one after another. Besides, those were the Miraculous that he didn't care about as much. They would be easier to get, but he didn't want to spoil his surprise attack on lesser Miraculous.

Once upon a time, Hawkmoth would have said that Ladybug would be the easier target. She was a long-distance fighter, and small enough that he could knock her aside. But she had clearly been training, and could use her yo-yo as a short-range weapon as well as a long-range one, and she was a fierce opponent. Chat Noir wasn't an easy target, either- Hawkmoth wouldn't be surprised if he had gone into the hero thing with a decent amount of training- but he sometimes fell back into the same fighting patterns.

But he had been breaking out of those patterns as of late, too. Hawkmoth hesitated, trying to figure out who to go after first. Ladybug or Chat Noir?

"I think Ladybug," he decided after a minute. After all, he had seen Ladybug hold down fights on her own before. If he fought Chat Noir and got his Miraculous, she might go after him and get her partner's Miraculous back. If he got hers first, then Chat Noir would have a harder time on his own, probably-

He never got a chance to test that theory. Something hit him hard from behind, knocking Hawkmoth out of hiding spot. He felt a stab in his side, and suddenly he couldn't move a muscle as he bounced from the rooftops down to the street below.

Paralyzed.

His mind whirred. That could only mean one thing- somehow, even though he thought that Chloe had been taken out, removing the Bee Miraculous from the fight- somehow, somehow, it was active. And now he was going to get delivered to the superheroes in one frozen package.

No. No. He couldn't lose. Not now. Hawkmoth's mind raced, and then the obvious came to mind. Mayura- well, Catalyst- probably couldn't save him now, but he had akumas aplenty at his beck and call.

"Stormy Weather!" Hawkmoth pushed through the connection desperately, hoping that she could hear him. "Come rescue me from the street and then blast the superheroes away! I've been taken down!"

"On it, Hawkmoth!"

Hawkmoth breathed a sigh of relief- or he would have, if he could have- as Stormy Weather grabbed him around the waist and hauled him (thankfully with his cane still in hand) away from the superheroes, knocking them back with a blast of rain-heavy air and a bit of hail. She flew across the city, then paused, confused. "Uh, where do you want me to go?"

Hawkmoth had to consider that. "We'll find a hiding spot until this darn Venom wears off."

"Okay, Hawkmoth!"

Using his connection was wearing him out, but he had to keep an eye on the fight and his remaining akuma. Hawkmoth did a quick check of his number of connections, and... they were dropping. Fast.

Too fast. His advantage was shrinking. By the time the Venom wore off- surely it would only take five minutes, hopefully it would only take five minutes- there would only be the strongest akuma left.

"Stormy Weather, tangle up the city with your weather!" Hawkmoth commanded. Then he searched out his other big connection. "Volpina, keep shoveling on the chaos. And stay out of sight."

There was no answer from Volpina. Hawkmoth frowned, then scrambled to try to find her connection.

It was gone.

No! How had they taken Volpina out? She was smart and crafty. She had to have been taken out by an attack from behind, like he had-

Which meant that none of his akumas were safe. If Queen Bee was detransforming and re-charging after each sting, then she could keep out of the majority of the fight and none of the akumas would think of watching out for her. It was a smart move, he had to admit, and not one that he would have thought Chloe Bourgeois would be able to think up.

No doubt that was Ladybug's idea.

By the time Gabriel was finally able to move his arms again, there were only a few lingering connections. As he pushed himself up, another one went, then another. Once there was only one left- well, one besides Catalyst- Hawkmoth let out a disgusted sigh and instructed the final akuma to create a messy diversion while he dashed back to the mansion, being careful not to get spotted as he slipped back inside. Once there, he released his transformation with a groan. Nooroo spiraled out of the brooch, promptly collapsing in Gabriel's hands. Gabriel passed him a snack and then headed back downstairs.

Not surprisingly, Nathalie was waiting for Gabriel in the office. She had released her akuma, and she looked rather like a thundercloud about to explode.

And explode she did.

"That should have been an opportunity that even you couldn't screw up!" Nathalie snarled, jabbing a finger at Gabriel's face. "Had you played your cards right, the superheroes should have been taken down in no time at all. They should have been blown aside by Stormy Weather, then captured by the Mime or Rodgercop or literally any of the akumas as soon as they fell to the ground so they couldn't fight! They could have been blown to completely separate parts of the city, divided and conquered! Literally anything other than what you just did would have been more effective!"

Gabriel opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't find any words. After all, he knew that they should have won. It should have been a certainty. But he hadn't expected the attack from behind, and his panic after that had meant that what had been a carefully coordinated akuma effort had immediately fallen apart.

"If you had reflexes that were any faster than an arthritic ninety-year-old, you could have dodged the hit, then wrestled Queen Bee down and taken her Miraculous," Nathalie continued. "It would have been a useful tool to have on our side. And you wouldn't have needed to use a perfectly good akuma to haul you across town."

"I didn't even see her before she hit," Gabriel argued, feeling a bit insulted. He could move fast, and normally he did. He had been the one to face off with Ladybug and Chat Noir on Heroes Day, and he had moved super fast then. His main problem after that- the reason why he hadn't won then and there- was that he had been too smug about knocking the superheroes off of their feet and so hadn't moved fast enough to end the battle on his terms. "If I had, I could have dodged. I didn't even know that she was out. None of my akumas had said anything."

"You were oblivious to your surroundings," Nathalie continued, as though she hadn't heard him. "Too focused on what was in front of you to catch what was going on behind. It was a dumb mistake, and it was one that you shouldn't be making at this point. Now we've wasted a perfectly good opportunity. It will be hard to use Catalyst again. Paris will not fall for another trick like they did today." She sent him a thoroughly displeased look, and Gabriel felt a icy shiver run down his spine. There was nothing human left in that look. "Mistake after mistake, Gabriel. I'm getting fed up."

Gabriel gulped. "I- yes-"

"From now on, I'm calling all of the shots. Otherwise, we'll never get anywhere."

[kirkwoodsdgfhj-blog]

Many folks are familiar with the idea

you tend to attract. It really is a simple concept: energy flows where attention goes. This entire world is about energy and the 'Law of Attraction' says that how you extend your energy (or thoughts) is exactly what the Universe will connect with and respond to.

I find this to be true for me, in big things and in small. There are a few tricks, to be sure (like patience and positivity at all times) but sometimes, things just click into place without too much effort. Here is an example from my own life.

After a series of consultations, I am originally scheduled for major surgery in late March of this year. I wonder aloud (at the time of scheduling) if perhaps the surgery might be moved up and am told, bisexual threesome very politely, that that will happen around the same time wee fairy folks cross the seas from Ireland and ride around on white unicorns granting wishes and handing out winning lottery tickets. Umm. Safe to say the date will be late March. And that is okay: but I still imagine the date as being one month earlier (somehow I feel that the surgery should be complete by the full moon of March, which is also my 50th birthday). In my mind, I see my bed next to a window, beside the bathroom and in an empty ward. (This was after the hospital staff offered me a semi-private room for a mere 160.00 a night: no, thanks!) In my vision, the nurses and doctors are all heaven sent and the hospital itself is as quiet as a morgue. (Ooops...poor descriptive choice, but you catch my meaning, right?). I also wish for rain as somehow, being in the hospital begs for cozy, rainy days. So I picture all of these things, feel the gratitude (as in: it would be soooooooooo nice), and then let it go. It is just the way I would prefer, if I had my say, for this whole episode to pan out...but after I think about it, desire it and appreciate it, I forget about it. Release it.

Here's what happens.

About one month ago, the phone rings and I am offered a new surgery date (I guess the wee folk have arrived) which is exactly one month to the day prior to the original one. I yell "but that's only a week away!!". They laugh. I agree to the new date. And smile.

I think about the surgery and understand the risks. But I am not worried or afraid. It is almost surreal, the way I feel - I send out love and well-being to the nurses and to the surgeon who will perform my surgery. I send out thanks and serenity to everyone involved and I feel no fear, no doubt and no trepidation. I know that my recovery will be swift and relatively easy, which is not normally the case with this type of surgery. But somehow, I know.

So now we are at the day of surgery. I am as cool as a cucumber. I feel good; I feel funny. I joke about everything with everyone. They seem to like it. I am wheeled into surgery, check out the big lights overhead and marvel at all the people in the room who are bustling about, preparing this and checking that: I find it humbling that they are all here for me. Wow. I watch my anesthesiologist setting me up like he wants to fly me: arms outstretched on either side and miles of tubes snaking around and into my arms. I am intensely interested. The next instant, out go the lights and I am intensely gone. I am as gone as I'll ever be. Well. Almost.

Sometime later, I am conscious of someone yelling at me and slapping my arm. I am in the recovery room. They are telling me to breathe and I think, how silly, I am breathing. I mean, how obvious is that? But then I am gone...until I hear the voices once more begging me to breathe. I open my eyes for a second, try very hard to stay awake and fail. This process goes on for a few hours until they have managed to keep me breathing for awhile and are fairly confident that I will continue to do so. And off I go to my ward. Even in my befuddled state, I realize as we enter that I am in a room with only two spots. Not a ward: a semi-private room. The other bed is empty. They roll me to the space by the window. With a view of the mountains, no less. And right next to the bathroom. The lights glow against a solid sheet of rain. Ahh. Cozy. And poof! I am gone again.

During the next few days, while I am sort of sleep-awake, I learn the events of my actual surgery. My surgeon dubs it the 'Operation from Hell'...it took twice as long as normal, I lost most of my blood and then I stopped breathing. Quite the drama! The nurses are lovely and kind (they comment how oddly quiet the 2nd floor is...very unusual, they say) and I have a total of four doctors come to see me on a regular basis. They seem sent straight from heaven, all of them.

So, as you can see, all of the aspects of my vision came to pass: my surgery was moved up one month, I got my bed by the window, my semi-private room, my own private bathroom, it rained the whole time, the hospital was strangely vacant, the nurses were spectacular and I received extra care and attention from more wonderful doctors than I had ever expected.

Most importantly, I saw only swift and sure recovery for myself, which is exactly what is happening. I am home and feeling almost back to normal after only 10 days when the usual recovery period is between 4 to 6 weeks, minimum. Whatever might have happened between my going into the hospital and coming out of it hadn't really concerned me. I had not focused on the negative, therefore, when the negative happened, it had no ownership of me as I had not fed it or encouraged it or even acknowledged it. It had no hold on me or my life path.

Many folks call the Law of Attraction 'manifesting'. I would be one of them. I know that whatever is paid attention to, both good and bad, will draw that thing or experience or situation to you. There are three steps in manifesting. The first is to decide what it is you want and why. If this desire is in line with positive and progressive results, the faster it will be drawn. (If your desire is a questionable one, for example, desiring to draw a certain person into your life, manifestation either will not work or will backfire on you, for any such manipulation interferes with the free will of another.) The second step is to really feel it: see yourself doing/experiencing/living your desire...feel it in your gut and in your heart. REALLY WANT/FEEL IT, even if for only a moment (strong emotions give life and energy to your desire). The third step is to let it go - imagine your wish is contained within a big, fat balloon. As long as you keep holding the string, the Universe cannot interact with the balloon (your desire). You must let it go.

I wanted to share my experience with you as evidence that maintaining a positive attitude and practicing the simple steps outlined above truly holds the capability of manifesting your desires. All you need is an open mind, pure and clear intentions, a little imagination and the ability to release and not rehash your desires or wishes (that would be like pulling the balloon back down to the ground, where it would be...well, grounded). And you will realize that you have more power and control over your life than you could have ever believed possible. You might also realize that you are part of the 'bigger picture' and are connected to something much more evolved and magickal than you'd ever imagined.

[village-skeptic]

on “having it both ways”: thinking about S2 and looking ahead to S3

So apparently once a year I end up latching on to Riverdale pre-season promo and having WAY TOO MUCH to say about it.

Image analysis, pop-culture riffing, S2 criticism, meditations on resistant reading, my own discomfort with “wrongfully accused” narratives in this particular historical moment, and some hopes on the literal eve of the S3 premiere, below the cut...

So, last week when this piece of promo dropped, the very first thing that I thought of was the visual reference to Chicago and the Cell-Block Tango.

(I didn’t do it! - but if I’d done it? - how could you tell me that I was wrong?)

HOW perfect is that homage? The red lighting, the raised arms? The promo still just FEELS like a snapshot from a Fosse dance routine. (A little more on legendary choreographer Bob Fosse here.)

It’s a defiant pose, right in the center of the frame, but a slightly vulnerable one at the same time. There’s nothing hidden here; everything’s on display. The pose draws the viewer’s eyes inescapably to the body - a muscled body, but one which here seems like a gymnast or dancer’s body: lithe figure, tapered waist, power that is channeled into performance.

(this is tasty; this is plenty; this is hungry work)

So, on a first pass, insofar as it puts this demonstrative male body on display, it’s a little bit of a subversive image, I think. And that’s well in line with the way that Riverdale so often courts the female (and/or gay male) gaze, and at its best does some really unusual stuff with masculinity. 

I thought about all of this - and then, silly me, I saw that this piece of promo was NOT a still, but is, instead, a short clip. 

Archie doing pull-ups on the prison bars, as another heavily muscled dude saunters behind him, reads to me like a completely different type of performance! To the degree that it invites the eye, it sends the message: don’t fuck with me. In motion, we have purely the pursuit of greater strength, the purging of weakness in favor of the means of self-protection. 

Instead of Chicago, my mind jumps to 3x01′s title source: Fortune and Men’s Eyes. Dominate or be dominated. 

Realistically, I’m willing to believe that the ambiguous interpretation here between “still” and clip is just a quirk of how it happened to be uploaded to Twitter by a social media intern. 

Still - the interpretative gulf between the still image and the image in motion got me thinking how often Riverdale seems to want to “have it both ways,” and what that does to the audience’s experience and expectations of the show.

For instance:

Other people have written at length about how Riverdale’s pursuit of aesthetic homage or plot contrivance has created character inconsistencies that occasionally baffle. Cheryl is alternately a tragic Gothic heroine and a lacquered, ruthless Mean Girl; Jughead is both a sensitive loner writer and also a bad-boy gang leader; Betty is both Betty and Dark Betty. (GOD.)

Other folks have discussed how the show needs to really play out the consequences of conflicts between the characters. It’s not that the show shouldn’t drop bombshells like the Bughead breakup(s) or the conflict between Betty and Veronica/Jughead and Archie, but it seems all too willing to reset back to milkshakes in a booth at Pop’s without doing enough work to explain WHY things are okay again. (See also: resolving major conflicts between characters literally with a song.)

The desire to “have it both ways” also really shows up in the show’s tendency to engage complicated issues (racism, sexism, colonialism, the prison-industrial complex) on a shallow level - thus getting credit for mentioning them, without really taking the time to explore them meaningfully or to explain the characters’ investment in them. 

The result of this, in terms of storytelling, is that you leave a lot of room for resistant (even combative) readings of the text to emerge. To name a few of my own:

frustration with Jughead’s acceptance of what feels like a suuuuper patriarchal role as “the Serpent Prince” (and later King)

the fact that it’s really hard to sympathize with Veronica throughout entire swathes of season 2

a profound opposition to a storyline that sexualizes Betty’s mental health issues in a really exploitative fashion

And then... there’s Archie.

In the “Cell Block Tango,” the murderesses of Chicago (bar one) get to justify their crimes. Conversely, as we open the third season of Riverdale, the audience knows that Archie’s being blamed for something he didn’t do. Despite bragging about it (!!) to a bunch of mobsters (!!!!), Archie is not guilty of the murder of Cassidy Bullock. 

...but he IS guilty of so! many! other! things! across Season 2. I’m sure I’m forgetting some, but aiding and abetting a criminal, covering up a murder, blowing up a car, and forming an extralegal vigilante militia group - TWICE - all come to mind. 

The last bits of S2 offer us a version of Archie’s amends-making that comes in the form of defending the Serpents, turning on Hiram, supporting his father, et cetera. And then the very last image of S2 - Archie being clapped in cuffs right at the moment that he’s supposed to be sworn into office - is meant to distress us.

But a season of watching Archie embrace fascism leaves some marks, y’all. And a not insignificant portion of the audience, still frustrated with the character’s choices, couldn’t help but say - well, he had it coming.

So, yeah. It’s been a few months between the close of S2 and the open of S3, and in most cases that would be enough time for me to sit with the story in and of itself, to consider more broadly where it had failed or succeeded, and to allow some of that “resistant reader” response to drain away.

But real talk, you guys: I’m finding it really hard right now, at this moment in American history, to connect emotionally with the story of a young man trying to fight the charges of which he has been wrongfully-yet-ever-so-plausibly accused.  

[Please note, I am NOT trying to say that RAS is somehow trying to weigh in explicitly on the SCOTUS debacle. The S2 finale laying the groundwork for this plot aired this spring, and S3E1 has (presumably?) been in the can for a while now. And, to its credit, Riverdale has in both seasons explicitly criticized a sexual culture that objectifies young women and reduces them to “points” (the football team’s playbook) and to prey (Nick St. Clair).]

But, for me personally, I can’t help looking at this plot and hearing echoes of “It's a very scary time for young men in America when you can be guilty of something you may not be guilty of.”

Here’s the interesting thing: I think RAS knows this, and I think the promo around this plot is partially designed to try to dispel these connections. 

(For me, at least, it’s having mixed results.)

(source)

For instance, I can’t look at this still (young man, formal suit intended to project good character and youthful vulnerability, sullen face, flanked by counsel) without thinking, “Wow, this feels....Brock Turner-y.” 

I don’t know if anyone’s written about courtroom photos and sketches as a genre of visual composition, but I feel like I’ve seen variations of the Riverdale still a million times, often printed on the front page of the local university newspaper, discussing the controversy over the conviction (or NON-conviction) of a promising young athlete accused of something awful that no one who knows him EVER would have suspected he would do. (Nice boy, nice family, so many extracurriculars, such good grades!)

Of course, there’s a major difference between the photos above: Archie’s defense team is entirely female. 

Obviously this makes sense because Mary Andrews and Sierra McCoy are both major supporting characters who are also lawyers - but it also makes sense in trying to dismantle some of the potential gut reactions to this visual framing. There’s some “innocence by association” going on here, I think. And after all, Archie IS innocent of this particular crime!

This still lands with mixed effect for me though, because any defense strategy that suggests the intentional composition of a visual tableau feels inherently cynical, even when the character is sympathetic or innocent. 

For instance: I just watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which features a scene where the main character shows up in the courtroom in full Upper West Side respectable regalia to try to get the obscenity charges against her dismissed - she fails and ends up having to plead guilty, because she mouths off at the judge. Anyone who’s familiar with Amy Sherman-Palladino’s work will recognize this bones of this plot point in the courtroom scene in Gilmore Girls: Rory’s grandparents’/lawyer’s attempt to portray her as a naive little angel backfires, and she ends up getting a ton of community service as penance for stealing a boat. It’s important to note that the characters are both guilty of their charges - although, as another favorite show of mine might note, “the situation’s a lot more nuanced than that.”)

(source | source)

Another way in which the pre-season promo is distancing Archie from both his actions last season, and the present context external to the show, is to emphasize his profound contrition. In this teaser from Riverdale 3x01, we get Archie declaring that “whatever happens to me in the courtroom on Tuesday - that is what I deserve.” This a statement of universal guilt and responsibility (one might say martyrdom?) that goes well beyond the scope of his actual infractions.

Now - I really, really appreciate that we’re getting a sad Archie rather than a mad Archie. And I want to acknowledge that he’s so definitely a kid here, trying hard to “man up” and to grapple with the fact that he screwed up big time and that there are consequences for his actions. After a season of doing the wrong thing over and over and OVER again, he’s trying to do the right thing. 

But here’s the thing: Fred responds to this confession of near-universal guilt with what (in this snippet) feels like a pair of universally-exculpatory statements: “You are a good kid. You got manipulated by a mobster.” (Mary is more nuanced: “You do not deserve to be framed for murder.”)

Archie does not deserve to be framed for murder, and he certainly did get manipulated by a mobster. In fact, I would like to formally start a petition to have Archie not fall under the control of an unscrupulous adult in S3!

However. 

Instead of accepting guilt for anything and everything and being immediately absolved for non-specific sins because of his inherent “goodness,” I really want to know that Archie understands what he actually DID do last season. He climbed wholeheartedly on board with the plan to Make Riverdale Great Again, and in that process, he did things that were NOT AT ALL commensurate with being “a good kid.” I think both the character and the show would benefit from a more explicit meditation on exactly why Hiram’s manipulation was so effective, and why Archie moved so quickly past being merely Hiram’s pawn, and voluntarily embraced the role of Hiram’s very ambitious accomplice. 

One of the specific preconditions of restorative justice is that the offender has to acknowledge their actions and the hurt that they caused. Reconciliation and vagueness are incompatible for so many reasons, but one of them is because a BIG part of learning from your mistakes is thinking precisely about what you did so that you can choose not to do it again.

I read a bunch of the new Archie comics over the break, and I think I now have a greater appreciation for the trope of Archie as a schlemiel. Despite his best intentions, the Archie archetype keeps making the same goofy, klutzy mistakes over and over again. This is fine, even funny, when it means that Archie just keeps accidentally ending up with a bucket on his head. Whoops! 

It is super not okay if it means that Archie just keeps finding himself supporting fascists. ...whoops?

(At present, my entire country is being “manipulated by mobsters.” Clearly, I have some feelings about this.)

I don’t actually know how to wrap all the loose ends of this analysis up meaningfully and coherently at the finish here - but then again, that probably puts me into good company with our showrunners. Optimistically, I’m going to hope that that’s intentional - that I’m judging in media res, and that plotlines and character arcs in S3 will weave together in a way that will surprise and delight me! 

But mostly, I’m going to reiterate my hope that S3 makes meaningful choices. That the people in charge don’t waste their actors’ time filming oodles and oodles of material that gets sliced and diced to ribbons. That they make choices EARLY about major plot points; that they stick to them; and that they let the rising action and falling action of your narrative reflect those choices, and the consequences that naturally accompany them. 

I hope that the people in charge of S3 will resist the ever-present temptation to “have it both ways” - which ultimately works out to really no definitive way at all. Telling a sturdy story is risky in a totally different way than courting controversy - but it’s so, so worth it. 

[mementosrp-blog]

( JEON HARU )

ALIAS › paladin

FACTION › doves

( PERSONA )

BACKGROUND :  Behind every great warrior, stands an equally great mentor. Haru was once hailed as a child prodigy in mixed martial arts, and the person that got him there was his mother, his biggest and loudest supporter. Scathach hears his call upon witnessing the death of his mother whilst hanging only by a thread to his own. Seeing many similarities between the notorious warriors she created and the fledgling she sees laying prone on the ground, she forges a bond between them. Scathach has always been a great judge of character, she will make a hero out of Haru yet.

ABILITY/ABILITIES :

– Shadow Generation : Grants the user the ability to generate and project their shadow to absorb darkness, and nullify light.

– Umbra-kinetic Construction : The wielder has the power to construct tools, objects, weapons, or beings using their shadow, and any other shadow that comes into contact with his own.

– Adaptive Replication : The replication of abilities/traits of living and non-living, technological, and mystical objects or beings within the user’s proximity to adapt in a situation. The user is capable of mimicking the borrowed powers/traits and use them to the capacity in which it was copied.

WEAKNESSES :

– To maintain homeostasis between the two, she needs to consume equal amounts of light and darkness. Tipping the balance, will cause her to rampage, if there’s too much darkness, and will make her lethargic if she absorbs too much light.

– To maintain homeostasis between the two, she needs to consume equal amounts of light and darkness. Tipping the balance, will cause her to rampage, if there’s too much darkness, and will make her lethargic if she absorbs too much light.

– To maintain homeostasis between the two, she needs to consume equal amounts of light and darkness. Tipping the balance, will cause her to rampage, if there’s too much darkness, and will make her lethargic if she absorbs too much light.

– The user must have preexisting knowledge on the umbra-kinetic construction and how it works.

– There is a limit to how many traits/powers that can be copied at a certain time, the most that Scathach can replicate is three. Some abilities might not mesh well together, such as water and fire manipulation, or water and earth manipulation. Abilities that contradict each other will nullify themselves, and Scathach will lose the copied abilities in that situation.Lacking knowledge of certain abilities, and how to activate them or make them work also nullifies the replication.

– Certain abilities will require certain stats to activate or control them. Though the ability can be used, If a copied power requires specific stats, attempting to control or use the ability might backfire and make Scathach lose control of the ability, hurting not only the intended target, but also the user and anyone within proximity of the attack.

( STATS )

Knowledge : [ 10 / 25 ] Guts : [ 15 / 25 ] Proficiency : [ 10 / 25 ] Kindness : [ 5 / 25 ] Charm : [ 10 / 25 ]

— BACKGROUND

Ten perfect little fingers and toes, an adorable button nose. Long sooty lashes, and tufts of dark hair. A perfect child born between estranged lovers. His mother holds him to her breast, urging him to feed so that he may grow up to be strong. Tears brim dew her eyelashes as she beholds the bundle of perfection in her arms.

This was what true love felt like.

“Haru,” she tells her mother, the only person there to witness the birth of her son. “Jeon Haru, is his name.”

( WHEN YOU’RE TEN, THEY CALL YOU A PRODIGY )

Haru had a penchant for trouble, often getting into fights with other kids. His mother could count on both hands how many times she had been called to the office to sort out one of many situations her son got into.

“Perhaps if he had a father figure in his life—” a teacher suggested, trying to mean well but coming off rude instead.

“I raised him all on my own without the help of a man, and I will continue to do as I have always done,” she replies, affronted. “Are there any other alternatives other than finding myself a husband?”

“I meant no harm,” her son’s teacher splutters. “My nephew takes self-defense. He’s a little hyperactive, something about too much energy, so my sister enrolled him into the local school for martial arts, to take the edge off so to speak. He naps the moment his head hits a pillow.”

She hums, contemplating the idea before nodding at the instructor, leaving with a sweep of her skirts without so much as a goodbye.

Haru easily excels in the lessons offered locally, thrives in the environment even. He learns discipline, and control, soaking in the new information like a sponge and eager to show them off at the end of every class to his mother.

He’s a changed boy, he who was once challenging and loud, was replaced by a dutiful and quiet boy. And slowly, but surely, he rises up in ranks, collecting belts and awards from competitions. They display the wall of his room, proof of his growth.

( WHEN YOU’RE FIFTEEN, THEY CALL YOU A GENIUS )

Haru is the spitting image of his father. From the expanse of his forhead, the refined bridge of his nose, and the strong line of his jaw. She can’t see any of herself in his features, but she knows there’s a part of him in his heart, his mannerisms, and the way that he thinks.

Haru’s careful with his words, mindful that they could cut deeper than any knife. He’s gentle in the way he treats others, knowing that everyone could be fighting their own battles, leaving their friends and loved ones totally unaware. Haru is her gentle giant, and she’s proud of the man he’s become.

“You’ve come a long way,” she tells her son one rainy night after eating dinner at a local restaurant. She drops a kiss to his cheek, tucking his seatbelt in for him before backing out into the road.

“Mom, stop, you’re embarrassing me,” Haru laughs, rubbing the lipstick off of his cheek. “Where did this come from? You’re not the sentimental type.”

“I just felt like I don’t tell you enough!” She scoffs, taking her eyes off the road to playfully glare at her son. “Is it so wrong that I want to tell my son I lo—”

“Fuck—Mom look out—”

A blinding light shines over them, highliting the fear clearly written on her son’s face. Stricken, everything moves in slow motion as she turns her head around, coming face to face with their impending death.

The last fifteen years spent with her son flash before her eyes. She remembers with startling clarity the day her baby opened his eyes, meeting her own and forging a bond older than time itself. She remembers his first word, and first step—and every other word and step after. She remembers the first time he spilt blood, having fallen off his bike, and the day he came home, flushed when he explained why he liked his first crush.

She was there for a lot of his firsts, for many of his milestones, and for that she’s thankful to have spent as much time as she had loving the child she raised all on her own.

“I love you.”

“MOM—”

He could only watch as her spirit leaves her body, could only watch as he was somehow ejected from the car, pulled out of the vehicle by an unseen entity . Skidding on the asphalt, it takes him a moment to realize he hadn’t died along with his mother. From Haru’s peripheral vision, he sees his mother’s car skid on it’s side before upturning onto it’s roof mere feet away.

It hurt to move, but he persisted as he rolled onto his hands and knees, crawling towards the wreck. He can’t leave his mother behind. Not there.

“Get a hold of yourself boy,” speaks a deep, albeit feminine voice, above him. He cranes his neck to the side and sees a woman dressed in a dark tunic held together by numerous belts and twine, a gauntlet on one hand, and a spear in another. “Your mother made a noble sacrifice. Do not let that go to waste. Livein her name.”

Before he could reply, the woman disappears like smoke as soon as sirens round the corner.

“Live.”

“Tragic! She was so young…”

“It’s a miracle the boy survived! Unscathed, too!”

“The power of a mother’s love.”

He stands at the front of the service, his mother’s portrait cradled in his hands as he listens to the whispers of his relatives, and his mother’s friends. Many have offered their condolences and well wishes, but they fell on deaf ears.

“I should’ve died with her,” he mutters under his breath as he’s ushered into his grandmother’s car, he was in her custody now since he was too young to live alone.

“What was that? Why you!—” THWACK! The old crone smacks the back of Haru’s head with her purse, muttering profanities like a sailor would. “Never! Never speak like that again, Haru.”

Biting down hard on his lip to the point of almost drawing blood, he swallows his rebuttal, knowing that it was best to weather the lecture he was about to receive.

“Your mother fought so hard to keep you. Your father? He wanted nothing to do with you. And your grandfather—may his soul rest in peace—threw your dear mother out when he heard news of her pregnancy!” His grandmother recounts his mother’s rocky past, reiterating all the things he already knew. “There was a time when she thought about giving up. Giving you up. But she didn’t. Every day was a battle for her, but she kept her chin up. And when she had you in her arms, she knew that every sacrifice she made was well worth it.”

He turns his head away, hiding the single tear that slipped out of the corner of his eye.

“Live for your mother. Don’t let all her sacrifices go to waste thinking you should’ve died with her, Haru-yah.”

Haru is lost for a while, having hit a very low point in life after his mother’s passing. He spoke with his fists rather than his words, gone was the kind and gentle boy he was known for. Despite this, he’s taken his grandmother’s words—and the words of that woman—to heart. So he lives.

( WHEN YOU HIT TWENTY, YOU COULD BE EXTRAORDINARY )

“I’m pretty sure this wasn’t what my mother had in mind for me,” Haru whispers as he lopes through the shadows. He’s taken up a new hobby, albeit, an illegal one hellbent on rebellion. The recent news that swept over the streets of Seoul left a bitter taste in his mouth. So many blamed the tragedy that struck the metropolis on external issues: the goddamn weather, and some dank dungeon that only revealed itself at an ungodly hour. What the actual fuck"

“Get your head out of your ass, Paladin, and move,” a voice hisses through his ear piece. “You’re gonna get caught!”

“Roger,” Haru sighs as he settles into a lunge, positioning himself for optimal landing. Stretching one leg back, he doesn’t waste a moment as he bursts forward, sending the guards into disarray.

“Intruders! Requesting back up—”

“Ahh, fuck,” Haru hisses, unable to stop the guards from regrouping and strengthening their forces. More work for him, if anything.

“Live a little, Paladin. We’re getting to the best part!” A cheerful voice cuts off his train of thought.

“Live a little, you say,” he retorts, locking weapons with a security personnel. “I’m living life to the fullest, you hear me?”

[magenta-storm]

why do you hate max??

lol where to start.

I’ve hated her from the first episode when she tried to ruin Eleanor’s business and force her to leave Nassau.

I hate that she’s so spiteful and petty, that even after putting the woman she supposedly loves in that horrible position of being forced to choose between her girlfriend and her life’s work, she dumps her and chooses to give herself to Vane’s crew just to get back at her and make her feel guilty for something that she got herself into. 

Again, she’s so eager to hurt her girlfriend for the awful situation that she forced her into by going behind her back and trying to manipulate her into having to leave, that she’d rather get raped and beaten than let Eleanor go unpunished for not being able to save her from the situation that she put them both in! That’s a special brand of crazy.

And really, even if Eleanor had chosen Max over her plans with Flint, then she’d have had Flint after her. If Max loved her at all she never would have put her in danger like that, and she especially would not have tried to force her away from Nassau. 

Where the fuck did she even think she was going to go? I’ve said this before, I can’t get over how stupid Max’s actions in 1x01-2 are. I might have been able to get over them being selfish and manipulative, but I can’t get over them making no fucking sense. 

Where the fuck could she possibly think there could be a safer place for her - a lesbian ex-slave and prostitute - than the island her girlfriend runs? She is so lucky to live somewhere free of British law and to have the protection of the most powerful person on the island, and she tries to throw that away? What. the. actual. fuck?

Another thing regarding that - 

either I’m supposed to believe that she was so blinded by love that she really thought Eleanor could be happy leaving behind everything for her and hahaha I can’t keep typing I’m laughing too hard. If she thought Eleanor would want to go with her she would have just asked. Had a conversation like a normal person instead of doing crazy secret stealing and selling behind her back shit. She had to know Eleanor couldn’t leave Nassau without it destroying part of herself and so she tried to force her and it backfired.

I don’t see this ‘oh, so sweet, she just wanted a peaceful life with her girlfriend she loved so much uwu’ crap that people who like Max seem to see. She wanted to make Eleanor come with her even though it would break her to lose her work and then she’d play loving girlfriend, all ‘max is your habour’ blah blah blah, picking up the pieces that she broke. It’s creepy and sick and it disgusts me, and it has since the first time I saw it three years ago. 

Imagine my surprise when I get into the fandom after watching season 1 and find absolutely no one (on tumblr, anyway) views Max’s actions as anything but saintly. 

Instead, everyone somehow viewed Eleanor as an evil, sociopathic bitch for… what exactly? Oh that’s right, for not choosing to ruin everything she’s worked for her whole life by crossing a dangerous pirate captain to save her girlfriend from the situation she put herself in by scheming against her.

I mean, ok, to be fair, I don’t blame Max for wanting to change her circumstances with regards to power dynamics between her and Eleanor. Ultimately, she was just a whore that Eleanor bought. I can understand that she wanted to even the playing field by sabotaging Eleanor to bring her down to her level so she could be more secure in her position. But this was a gamble that didn’t pay off and instead of accepting that she blamed everything on Eleanor and played the innocent, heartbroken, injured party. Cowardly and pathetic.

And then what did she do next? She continues trying to ruin Eleanor, only even more stupidly this time, selling information to a complete lunatic to get her petty, spiteful revenge on Eleanor. If Ned Lowe had killed Eleanor, it would have been Max’s damn fault, because their problems started over the blood-stained cargo that would not have been blood-stained had Max not been so stupid as to give the ship carrying Abigail to a prick like Lowe. Too bad Lowe didn’t kill Max, would have been karma.

Then of course, we come to her next offense - seducing Anne and trying to drive her and Jack apart. Again, something I would accept as an unsavoury, but not unforgivable act of self-preservation if it weren’t for how incredibly annoying the majority of the fandom is, refusing to see her actions for the manipulation they are and raving on about her ‘love’ for Anne. She even replaced Anne in about 2 seconds flat with that Eleanor look-alike! but wow, so romantic, hey? 

Also, everything is her meddlesome fault???  and it’s so annoying. (Yes, Silver also stole the schedule, not excusing his part in it) but basically if she’d just kept her nose out of other people’s business from the start nothing would be so shitty.

Her interference in season 1 hindered Flint and Eleanor’s plans for the Urca gold. Her dealings with Lowe, again, ruined everything for everybody in season 2. Not that she could have known that of course, but the fact that she did it just to hurt Eleanor for the situation that she caused in the first place pisses me off. In season 3, her fucking up the plans for Jack’s rescue fucked everything for everyone up to the present. It’s just so frustrating knowing that majority of problems are caused by my least favourite character.

I’ll admit most of my reasons for disliking her up until season 3 are up to interpretation and it’s possible to have a more positive view of her actions.  

But, from season 3 onwards, I am completely unapologetic about hating her guts. There is no excuse for the way she betrayed Anne and Jack in 3x08 for absolutely no reason at all, and again in 4x01. She tricked Anne into falling for her and now she couldn’t give a fuck if she gets her killed? Fuck her.

Silver lets her in on his plan to get the gold in season 2 and she repays him by trying to capture him? And in such a rude way too, for fuck’s sake? She wasn’t like, ‘sorry, I can’t help, I have to look out for myself’ which would have been fair enough. Instead she was all ‘I’m so much better and more civilized than you.’ 

like where the fuck do you get an idea like that, bitch, you’re exactly the same as him only he’s actually managed to develop a genuine emotion or two over 4 seasons whereas you have remained the same asshole who went into business with him in 1x01. 

I think I wouldn’t hate Max anywhere near as much if it weren’t for her stans excusing all her horrible behaviour and elevating her above every other flawed character. I think if I had no interaction with fandom, I would find her only slightly more unlikable than other characters who do bad things, which is everyone. 

For example, Flint and Silver sometimes do things that make me hate them, and sometimes do things that make me inclined towards understanding/forgiving them. Every time Max does something that makes me feel inclined towards understanding/forgiveness, I see another post praising her as better than everyone else, a precious angel or high queen or whatthefuckever else and it reinforces my annoyance, dislike and general feeling of ugh I’m so just sick of her. 

Another small part of it is a) her stupid, bad fake accent is like nails on a chalkboard and I hate her dumb ugly hair braid thing  and b) I didn’t like Jessica Parker Kennedy’s character on The Secret Circle, so I was somewhat predisposed to disliking Max. 

In conclusion: Jack, Anne and pre-season 3 Eleanor are my favourite characters and Max has fucked with them all and I’m tired of everyone making excuses for her so yeah I hate her.