#the MASTER whom she's been trained to serve and she just stabbed her with a holy sword. she's amazing

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

you guys ever think about how dahlia's method of choice was always fairly hands-off, like poisoning and electrocution, but iris was told to stab a body, and she said ok?

[clonedadplo]

My first real post on Tumblr, I have some Obikin fanfic to sacrifice upon this alter of many fandoms. I still can't believe Ashoka and Anakin are only four years apart and that they gave "I-cant-handle-my-feelings-I'm-hyperventilating-and-I-just-stabbed-someone-Anakin" a padawan at the age of 19. Lord.

I may post this on AO3 if I wind up writing more and can get my bro to edit for me:

Black Right Hand

When Obi-Wan had lost his arm to Count Dooku Anakin had lamented that it hadn't been him. Not because of some self sacrificing urge to protect like his master seemed to feel when he swung his saber across the space in front of him and directly in front of Dooku's saber trajectory. That was what is was though,  only trajectory, the expected path of travel which would have buried the curved red saber directly into Anakin's chest, or now, into Obi-Wan's green one but things often do not travel their expected path and it instead sailed on to the left and severed most of his master's forearm. 

No, at first Anakin had wished he had been the one to lose his arm because Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the kind of man to whom a mechanical limb was conducive. To start he was not all that capable with mechanics, and was absolutely hopeless with electrical engineering. Second he seemed too…human? Too…natural? Anakin could not place a finger on it but neither his master's demeanor nor the soft grace of his soresu saber style seemed to align with having a cybernetic hand. 

However nowadays it served quite well to tie Obi-Wan to him. Anakin needed to service the arm at least every four months (which really isn't asking much if he may say so himself) and in reality much more often as it seemed to be damaged frequently with the rising intensity of the war. The complex wiring and special build he had put in place to prevent anyone tampering with a Jedi High General's primary saber wielding appendage, made it nearly impossible for anyone else to perform any type of upkeep on it. There was more to it than that though. Something about seeing the harsh black mechano limb under the soft beige gauze of Obi-Wan's robes seemed to connect them. To bridge the gap between a serene light filled garden on Coruscant and a brutal storm on Sedesia, drawn in unnaturally by the high gravity, gripping the planet's surface and tearing out the dirt and plants to hide them away in space. Or at least it made them look a bit more like they even belonged on the same Republic Cruiser. 

Time went on  and so did the war, his master had long become comfortable with the arm, given the constant necessity for action there was really no choice. Rex had informed him a few days ago aboard a Venator that a transmission from Cody detailed Obi-Wan's newest damage to his prosthetic and Anakin had been restless ever since awaiting news of their return. At first he had his own mission to busy himself with but after returning to the temple yesterday the nerves began to surface again. 

Nonetheless Obi-Wan should be arriving back soon enough, Anakin had felt him reenter the same sector of space recently and he decided he should actually wash up today. He stepped into the sanisteam and considered maybe he'd even give snips the day off, there was hardly a point in training since they'd be deployed again in less than two days.

Yeah maybe today would be a good day for once.

Ashoka had assured a disheveled, grimey, and exhausted master Kenobi that if her master was actually taking his once monthly shower there was no need to wait on him to treat the shorn open finger joint. She could handle it and he'd be off to bed in no time, however barely into popping open the top panel to connect the diagnostic tool the sounds of steam vents shut off and her master came leaning out of his room in record time, robes tied sloppily and hair still askew. The expression on his face could only be described as absolutely scandalized as he stared at her. She fiddled with the code reader and Obi-Wan continued his lackadaisical commentary on their latest mission. 

She continued the ruse of swapping stories with her grandmaster when in reality she could only feel the burning stare of her master deciding whether she was capable enough to do the work at hand. Or on hand. On the hand? Either way the scrutiny was burdensome and eventually Obi-Wan coughed mid sentence apparently having reached the limit of ignoring his troublesome Padawan.

"Really Anakin are you going to stand there and stare at her all morning or did you intend to come out and join us at some point?" Anakin's head whipped to the side as if he had been so solely focused on Obi-Wan's arm he had forgotten the man himself was there watching him lean out of his quarters, poorly dressed and ogling. Anakin ducked back into his room shamefaced and emerged again a few minutes later, robes straightened, and unruly waves combed. 

After giving a curt good morning to them both he proceeded to storm out the door without awaiting further interaction. Ashoka shrugged and supplied "We must be out of caf. Master is always in a bad mood without his morning caf."

Obi-Wan seemed placated by this and snorted in shared humor. "Indeed. It seems he hasn't changed in that respect." 

As the Torgrutan got into actual repairs she began to notice a rather unnecessary amount of gold plating within the actual arm, she looked at the black durasteel and its gold accent rings in question and couldn't resist the urge to ask 

"Master Kenobi aren't your robes brown? I know once the war started you started wearing the same black body glove as your troopers under your armor but you don't even wear any other black, did you choose this colour? Surely you could have gotten tan or even skin coloured durasteel?"

Obi-wan just flashed her with a light laugh tilting his head in curiosity like he had never even considered this.

"Only you would deign to consider fashion choices in a war little Padawan. I hardly think it's important, but after we returned to Corusant from the battle on Genosis, Anakin told the Meddroids that he would take care of securing me an appropriate prosthetic for a Jedi. Lord knows where he found it but it works quite well, I don't see why the colour would be an issue."

Ashoka stared into the many tightly bunched groups of minute wires then braided together into larger cords, not only a sign of her master's handiwork but a sign it was a project of interest or a craft of care and not yet another downed fighter's electrical system fixed on the fly in some ungodly weather system of yet another nameless outer-rim hellscape. Her eyes finally focused on the spot she had been oh-so carefully avoiding with her screwdriver,  the unique lithographic design that had to be required to print the one of a kind chip serving as a central processor for the hand. As expected at this point, she also found the small, so so small, miniscule spiky huttese A.S. adorning the corner of the chip. The same A.S. she had seen inside C3-P0, R2-D2, various gadgets and the internal kyber crystal housing of her own first lightsaber. She had asked about it one day while she maintenanced artooie, not knowing huttese or why the strange markings on his main two processors matched the inside of her saber.

"Well snips the housing of a light saber is pretty simple but I designed it myself, and I signed it as uhh...I guess a gesture."

A show of affection was left unspoken, this conversation had taken place before they had both slowly began noticing their own individual crawls past the line of Jedi ordership and into the the soggy swamp of confused human with handfuls of friends, a thing strictly forbidden for them. They left that unspoken too though.

"And the signature inside R2?" She had asked, intrigue overwriting the warm but awkward turn of the conversation.

Anakin chuckled in response, "Well I sure do appreciate R2 but no that's...that's an engineer's signature. Fine work like that gets signed." He touted, rocking back on his heels with a satisfied hum.

Ashoka rolled her eyes and went back to tightening tiny oil slick screws, curosity sated.

Now she looked down into the arm's delicately designed inner working and thought this signature probably covered both. And maybe some other third thing if she was foolish enough to stop and consider the implications of her master signing the inside of another living being's arm.

Obi-Wan noticed her long pause and vacant gaze and cleared his throat in concern.

"Uhm, I know all of Anakin's tinkering in there seems to have made it nearly unserviceable by anyone else. If you're not comfortable I can simply wait until he returns."

Ashoka was pulled out of her pondering with a start. "What? Oh no I- Uh well actually that would probably be...." That would probably be for the best she finished in her mind. She should close up this black and gold, hand engraved arm, pretend she was not privvy to her master's design quirks and never lay her fingers or tools on it again. Unfortunately much like Skywalker she loved doing exactly what she shouldn't do.

"That probably won't be necessary. I've seen all my masters strange design choices a hundred times, I can fix you up." Design she said with emphasis. Not just wiring, not just alterations, design you blind Jedi.

"Okay then I leave myself in your capable hands Padawan Tano." Obi-Wan said this with a puckish smile like they were playing a game of dejarik she was about to win not flaying opened his prosthetic arm.

She shook her montrals and set about the slow work of divesting the exposed length of arm of the hundreds of wires blocking her path higher until she could safely remove the outer casing of the hand. 

Obi-Wan squirmed as she individually disconnected wire after wire, not daring to risk disturbing her master's painstaking work by pulling out an entire bundle at once. A bit of discomfort seemed reasonable, the power could not simply be switched off for safety reasons but she had started with the bundle that would disconnect the arm's reception of impulses from Obi-Wan's remaining flesh limb and in turn sever feedback to her grandmaster's nervous system. As she began on the next bundle, Obi-Wan continued fidgeting, leg bumping and shoulders twitching despite the lack of sensory feedback as she worked.

"Uncomfortable master Kenobi?" She inquired suppressing a grin.

"No!" Obi-Wan responded quickly, eyes jerking up from his arm, seemingly unaware he was fidgeting in the first place. "It's just I suppose I never thought about it but I've never really been paying attention while someone works on my arm." 

Ashoka lifted a dubious eyebrow as he went on, now wearing an expression certainly closer to embarrassment than any she had seen on him before. "It seems everytime Anakin has serviced it we are either aboard a GAR ship or inside some makeshift tent shelter and I'm either too busy with battle plans or speaking with our troops to take notice of my arm. Or…." Obi-Wan faltered now looking into his cup of tea and down at his robes still dirty from his most recent mission because commander Cody had insisted that he needed to get his arm fixed before taking rest. He had failed to mention that this implied Obi-Wan could not shower and change because they both knew he would fall asleep the minute he was clean but had wordlessly accompanied him through the temple, past the call of his own refresher equipped with a real shower (no sanisteam thank you) and taken his leave with a parting salute only when he was sure someone would be looking after his general.

Ashoka waited until her patience gave way and prompted him on, "Oooor?" she was finished disconnecting and parting all the wires at this point and was too focused on the intricate, blind work of seeking out all the internal latches that would remove the hand casing to give notice to Obi-Wan's tight lipped uncomfortable expression 

"Or, I…I fall asleep." Ashoka looked up attempting to process then immediately resettled her efforts on attempting not to laugh. 

"Every time. Like without fail? You're either riding a battle high or passed out on the table while Skyguy sticks tools in your arm?" Ashoka tried her best to keep from chortling but her wording betrayed her amusement quite clearly regardless.

Ever patient, Obi-Wan simply shrugged his unfettered shoulder and smiled sheepishly,

"I suppose I really am an old man as you two insist. I must find any engineering beyond servicing the fleet fighters on missions so foreign it truly puts me to sleep."

Ashoka's head swam in disbelief as she prodded the first of six internal clips. More like you're being force suggested to sleep! She decided against sharing this rather unnerving deduction and settled on mumbling, "Master you have Crys work on the ships when me and Anakin aren't around." 

Obi-Wan gave a warm rich laugh and shifted into a more comfortable position to watch her work, chin propped on his other arm peering down at her poking and praying, still twitching occasionally despite the lack of sensation.

The door slid open with a whoosh of air and Anakin entered looking as stormy as when he left. Obi-Wan tilted his head up and flashed him a smile before looking back down to the sight of his now uncased hand, one finger separated and lying on the table as Ashoka replaced the joints. 

Her master bustled into the small cooking space of the main living area and began preparing a cup of caf and a cup of tea. So, not out then.

While her master seemed content to silently stifle them all with his brooding force signature Ashoka was ready to show him exactly why she had forged on in this endeavor despite invoking her master's ire.

"You know master, this is some truly lovely and unique craftsmanship." Ashoka spoke loudly enough he could not pretend not to hear her without looking up. Anakin stilled in the kitchenette, the clinking of his spoon now stilled.

"It's a shame master Kenobi is never awake to admire it. Especially since so much of it was especially handmade." Ashoka went on, smirking to herself as she felt her master's force signature first contort then disappear entirely, hidden the moment it wasn't being purposely projected. 

Obi-Wan tilted his head in curiosity, looking up at the brooding man child in a few feet away.

"It's not…it's not all that special, just some alterations on the tried and true designs. Not really Obi-Wan's area of interest is it?" This was probably stated with enough humility to make Obi-Wan suspicious alone but he accepted it with a hum and Ashoka assumed he was probably too tired from a long deployment to probe deeper into the line of questioning.

Anakin's voice in her head came in a hissing rasp,

"We will speak about this later padawan, stop trying to scare Obi-Wan over his prosthetic before he gets rest."

At the same time Obi-Wan's rich level timbre reached her ears from the outside,

"Well whatever alterations you did they work wonderfully so I'm very grateful to you Anakin, I don't-" Obi-Wan's voice was cut off with a yawn before he shook his head to clear it, "Oh excuse me, haven't had a good night's rest in days." 

Ashoka answered both at once using full focus to gather all the parts she needed to go weld, answer her master through their training bond, and answer Obi-Wan.

"I hardly think general Kenobi is the one I'm scaring master." 

"That's okay master I'll be done soon I just need to go weld these finger pieces back together, we've got the tools lying about somewhere but I don't want to burn the table." 

Anakin stepped over and snatched the twisted handkerchief of parts out of her hands. "That's alright snips, I've got a micro torch I'll fix it." He walked into his room only to return with a metal plate and torch and set about the repairs without waiting for anyone in the room to respond.

Obi-Wan shook his head and leaned conspiratorially in towards Ashoka, "To tell you the truth I think he's just possessive of his handiwork. He was like that with the speeders he used to build too. Doesn't like anyone else working on them."  

Ashoka put a hand on her hip and nudged a montral behind her back with a shoulder, "Right. His handiwork." Anakin flashed his eyes up at her but continued working in silence.

Sometimes Ashoka remembers her master is still only a petulant twenty year old.

Gif Credit to: @obiwanobi (Ashoka) @gffa (the other two)

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 5

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their debut on a sunny Monday of September. Just as her master had feared that intense energy they felt was only the beginning. Hawkmoth started his reign of terror, releasing his akumas on unsuspecting civilians, using their strong negative emotions, and creating his champions. It was a vile move, attacking someone when they were vulnerable. But Marianne had to admit that he was good. She was trained to do exactly the same thing, to manipulate and exploit someone’s weakness, but at least she had the decency to never use her abilities for personal gain unless extremely necessary. She was a soldier, everything she did was by the order of someone. Her whole training so far had been preparing her for this moment. 

So when Stonehart appeared, she was ready. 

She knew everything she needed to do, she had been trained since birth for this. Her Master was confident that she had what it took to take down these akumatized people, and allied with the one he had chosen to wield the Cat Miraculous they would be unstoppable. He didn’t tell her the identity of the person he has chosen, but she knew he wouldn’t. For safety reasons, only the Grand Guardian would know the identities of the wielders. But she didn’t need to know his identity in order to work with him. 

Chat Noir surprised her a lot. She knew he couldn’t possibly have the same training she had, but he still knew how to fight. He’s trained in fencing from what she can tell by his style of fighting, and he’s very good. After some time they became the perfect duo, always in synchrony and ready for anything. It’s nice to have someone on her side, in the League she mostly acted alone, so having someone that had her back full time was new. 

It took two years to defeat Hawkmoth. In those two years that she lived in Paris, a lot changed. First was her name. In order to live completely off the radar of the League, she needed a new name. They had lost contact with the League after the attack, so they never discovered what exactly happened, or who won in the end. She was glad the Mayor of Paris decided that it would be better to ban any rumors of a supervillain in the city from the outside world, fearing that that would cause the tourism to diminish. That allowed her some security, but one could never be too careful, the League was known to have spies everywhere. So she changed her name. In the documents that her godmother forged, she was called Marinette Dupain but preferred to be called Mari because that was closer to her real name. Daughter of a kind baker and his traveler wife, her backstory was that she spent most of her childhood traveling the world with her mother, but now her parents decided that it would be good for her to stay in the same place for more time. She would be homeschooled by Sabine, which was enough for social security to allow her to be kept from attending school. It was kind of funny that she lived so close to a school but didn’t study there. 

Another thing that changed was that for the first time she had people she could rely on. Before it was only Damian. He was the only one that she ever told about her fears and insecurities, confiding in him was something she missed in those years apart. They were very close before the attack, and after two long years of thinking she was dead, she wasn’t sure what would happen when they finally reunited. But she hoped it would go well.

When she first transformed, she felt invincible. It was something she would never forget, feeling that kind of power was memorable. It was normal for the suit to incorporate traits of your personality, but it still was a surprise when she saw herself as Ladybug for the first time. She wore a black skin-tight suit that covered her entire body from the neck down, in her torso making the illusion a corset, a part of the suit was red with black spots. She also had boots and a jacket to complement her look, also in red with dots. Her hair tied back in a ponytail was rather practical and allowed her better motion. On her right leg strapped to her tight was a knife holster with a small dagger that served for surprise attacks, her specialty. Around her waist was where she tied her yoyo when she wasn’t using it. To conceal her identity, she wore a domino mask also in red.

In the beginning, she wanted to use another name for her superheroine self, one that paid tribute to her Arabic roots, but Master Fu thought it better to go with a more generic name, that way it would be harder to obtain any type of information about her. In the end, she relented and went with Ladybug. 

When Ladybug and Chat Noir first appeared, most of Paris newspapers and tabloids started to question the origin of their superheroes. Some believe them to be aliens, which her Master thought hilarious. Others were certain they were metahumans, born with their powers, and their Miraculous just served as an amplifier, and Hawkmoth wanted all Miraculous to increase his power to the maximum level, in Mari’s case they were partially right about the part of the powers. The one that came closer to the truth was the writer of the Ladyblog, the amount of research she had was impressive for someone so young. She discovered that the Miraculous were older than they thought, dating back all the way to the ancient Egyptian Empire, other than that she was way off. She had this theory that the Miraculous holders were a group of immortal entities that always appeared in ties of need, but recently one of them must have gone bad, tired of centuries in hiding, and the others are trying to defeat them and restore peace. It was a good theory that had some truth behind it, but still very exaggerated. It didn’t help that Ladybug was obviously experienced and that only served to fund this theory even more.

It became a game for Ladybug and Chat Noir to find the funniest theories and share them during patrol. Chat was really good in that, normally he just asked one of his friends what they thought. Mari, not having friends to ask just bought stuff the media printed. These kinds of games helped them relax a little after a tiring battle.  

After two years of fighting evil forces, it was impossible for the two superheroes not to be close. Their kind of relationship always reminded Mari of her brother, and she often felt guilty for not being able to reach him. But that only motivated her more in defeating Hawkmoth. Only then she would be able to leave Paris. 

Living in Paris was nice, for the first time in her life she created a routine for herself. She had training with Master Fu in the mornings and she helped at the bakery during the afternoons. Every other day there would be an Akuma attack and she would step into her role as Ladybug. Other than that her life became pretty calm compared to what it was at the League. She even got the time to explore her creative side, drawing and sewing became her favorite hobbies.

But nothing ever stays the same for long, not for her. 

It was about one year and a half after the attack on the League, just as her Master was getting close to discovering the exact location of origin of the source of evil energy. They knew the owner of the Butterfly Miraculous knew how to read energies, being that what alerted him of the Ladybug Miraculous being activated after Mari was brought back from the dead, but they weren’t expecting him to be able to track them. Her Master energy was easier to locate, even with him being the Grand Guardian, because of his old age. 

To this day she wasn’t sure what exactly happened, only that one afternoon she felt as if the energy around shifted and became unbearable. Fearing the worst she went to her Master in search of guidance, but when she was nearing his house she saw him. Hawkmoth in the flesh. Around him were five Akumas previously defeated.

He was at a rooftop engaging Master Fu, who at the time had already transformed with the Turtle Miraculous, in a heated duel. At the side was Mayura, trying to reach the Miraculous Box that was secured inside a green dome. Not wasting one minute she transformed in a nearby alley and went into action attacking the Peacock wielder. She was ruthless in her blows, never leaving space for the other woman to attack. Chat Noir arrived a couple of minutes later and went for the akumatized people, but at that point it was already too late. Master Fu knew that would be his last day on earth, he didn't have the strength to fight and maintain the Box inside the safety dome, so he did the only thing he thought possible. He relinquished his position as the Grand Guardian of The Miraculous to Ladybug. 

The box immediately disappeared from the dome and appeared in Mari’s arms. Without wasting a second she used her hidden weapon and stabbed her opponent in the thigh in order to subdue her. Her cries of pain were enough to attract Hawkmoth's attention from Chat Noir, with whom he had just engaged in battle. He immediately went to comfort his partner, using his champions as a barricade to protect them. He escaped. Or rather Mari let him escape. Because she couldn't stop looking at her Master’s body. He was dead. Died protecting the Miraculous. Inside her she felt some piece of her break. Death wasn’t new for her, but it felt surreal to believe the man that saw her grow and taught her almost everything she knew was dead. But there was no time to mourn, a soldier only mourned after the war, and this war was far from being over. But at that moment, looking at the lifeless body of her Master she made a vow to herself. 

She would not rest until Hawkmoth perished.

And she would make sure that before he did, it hurt

Next

Another fresh capther for all of you. To be honest I had planned this chapter to be compleatly different, but I was inspired and just lost myself, and when I realised I couldn’t finish this chapter anyother way. Hope you all liked it! Fell free to leave a comment with your theories of what’s going to happen next! (Also, the taglist still open)

WARNING: Major character death; description o violence.

Ladybug suit was inspired by this drawing from Eden Daphne 

Taglist:  @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13  @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @blackroserelina @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades @thefangirlwholiterallydies @astoriaandromeda @unnamed2357 @little-lady-bird @imdaqueenie @meismu @dorkus-minimus @a4-machete @arty-shadow-morningstar @catthhay @sizzling-fairy-oil @poodapup @charme-de-malchan @jayjayspixiepop @fusser90 @adrestar @iloontjeboontje @buginetye @macncheesemonster

[drwcn]

I can’t wait for more of your discordance au, I’m a sucker for angsty wangxian! I’m actually really curious about what’s going on with Lan Xichen the whole time he’s gone. Is he recovering for all that time or is there some political plot he needs to take care of? I saw that courtesan Meng Yao tag too which makes me even more intrigued 👀👀👀

Awww you guys >:) Thank you so much for the encouragement. 

Unfortunately, Xichen and Huaisang are not a pair. The hidden agenda of this fic is xiyao (lol sorrah), and I know people tend to feel either YAY or NAY about xiyao so I’ve totally separated the wangixan and xiyao part. You can read one without the other and it wouldn’t make much of a difference at all. At best Meng Yao is mentioned in end of the later wangxian parts once or twice. 

I love Xiyao because I think it’s full of possibilities. Obviously canon!xiyao is tragic and problematic af, but this is an au, so... I do ...what I...want? Meng Yao in this au is his own worst nightmare - a courtesan, and Zewu-jun is the handsome polite gentlemanly amnesiac he saves. 

Below cut are more reasons why Lan Qiren longs for the sweet release of an early qi deviation (arc synopsis of lan xichen & meng yao’s half of the story). 

Lan Xichen’s Arc: where politics turned deadly.

Well, just because Wen Ruohan isn’t a thing doesn’t meant the Yin Irons aren’t a thing. Is there political bullshit waiting to happen? Absolutely. Except our protagonists are proactive this time. 

For months, both Qinghe and Gusu have been getting reports of strange sightings along their Lanling borders. NMJ and LXC have been investigating, and they suspect that JGS may have had something to do with it. Prior to Lan Xichen’s disappearance, he was getting close to finding out the truth. 

What happened was this: 

Xue Yang (who will exist solely in other people’s narration) had killed the Changs and taken a piece of the Yin Iron. Upon capture, XXC and SL (both alive and well and doing their own thing) delivered him to the Chief Cultivator, thinking justice has been served. (Lol. no.). Once JGS got his hands on one of those, he began to plan world domination bad things with it and shit started acting fucky right away, eliciting the suspicion and subsequent investigations of the Lans and Nies. 

Jin Guangshan does wonder how his secrets are being leaked, but he doesn’t get to find out until the end. 

Lan Xichen, on his part, is fairly sure of what’s been causing the appearances of these so called “fierce corpses”. He knows about Lan Yi’s barrier in the Cold Cave, and suspects someone has gotten their hands on a piece of the Yin Iron. Both he and Nie Mingjue suspect Jin Guangshan, and have been quietly collecting proof. 

Jin Guangshan, not about to be defeated so easily, sets up a trap and ambushes Lan Xichen during one of his investigations. LXC was in “plain clothes” as part of the investigation, because it’s dumb to go around investigating dressed as the Sect Leader of Gusu Lan, but during the ambush, Lan Xichen loses Liebing and Shuoyue in the process.  The only thing he has on him is Shuoyue’s sheath when he is found by Meng Yao. 

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything or who he is. He sees a pretty young man who introduces himself as Lianfang. Lan Xichen was wearing blue when he was found, so “Liangfang” calls hims A-Lan. 

Meng Yao’s tragic back story that’s actually tragic:

The bullshit - er, the story - as always, starts with Meng Yao getting kicked down the steps at Jinlintai by his Ho™ of a dad Jin Guangshan. In this universe, Jin Guangshan isn’t just a rich powerful Sect Leader, but also the Chief Cultivator. If anything, he has more reason than ever to make sure Meng Yao isn’t around to besmirch his good name (not that he has any good name to bismirch).

Claiming Meng Yao to be a liar, Jin Guangshan ordered his goons to have Meng Yao “taken care of”, but before that could happen, Madam Jin had come out to see what was the commotion. This was Zixuan’s birthday celebration after all, everything had to be perfect. 

What she saw certainly enraged her, but her husband was about to kill a boy, possibly his own son, spill blood on their son’s day of birth celebration. Such cosmic bad karma she couldn’t possibly accept. “You don’t have to kill him, you absolute buffoon, just make sure he never comes back here!” 

She meant buy his silence with money but Jin Guangshan had a more permanent solution.

Before the day’s out, Meng Yao was sold to a brothel, and was told “that’s where you belong”.  Once, perhaps, he had dreamed about gaining the love of his father, but no longer. Now he simply wants his father ruined and dismembered. 

But first he has to live. 

The madam of the brothel had a keen eye for “good merchandise”, and one good look at young Meng Yao with those big eyes, delicate frame and dimples and she knew she could make big bucks off of him. 

(And before anyone asks how old MY is here, the answer is: young. One of the many reasons why I would personally like to volunteer to stab JGS until it looks like he’s been cursed with the Thousand Holes Curse.) 

The first couple of years were decidedly grim for MY. He was kept away from customers (mercifully), but he was a brutally trained in the art of dance and music. They kept him fed enough to dance but not too much to “ruin his figure”. His instructors quickly found that the youth was a quick study and got up no matter how many times he was trampled on (literally and metaphorically). It was no secret that life was gruesome, but Meng Yao survived. Meng Yao made his debut. Meng Yao became famous.

The establishment where he made his debut renamed him Lianfang - to collect/gather fragrance - and so from then on, he became Lianfang-gongzi. Soon, his art (and other stuff) caught the eye of an obliging patron who purchased him from the madam. 

The patron, by all accounts, was a brute of man who had more appreciation for the liquor in his cup than the arts, but he was a cultivator, wealthy enough, connected to many other cultivator gentry familiues, and most importantly, led a subsidiary clan of the Chief Cultivator. As his prized courtesan and dancer, Meng Yao served at his whim, entertained at his parties and made happy his friends, all of whom were practicing cultivators or at the very least connected to the cultivation realm. 

Our evil gremlin would not be our evil gremlin if he didn’t make the best of every situation. Meng Yao quickly discovered that not only was he particularly talented at getting people to divulge information to him, but that men were significantly uninhibited after sex and alcohol. Armed with a sweet face, an eidetic memory, and a hate inside him that longed to see Jin Guangshan severed limp by limp, he began his revenge plot. 

(Here, I took inspiration from Nirvana in Fire’s character Princess Xuanji of the fallen Hua kingdom who was sold into servitude but established Hong’xiu’zhao, a spy network of girls/women who either worked as courtesans or secondary spouses of noblemen. Her goal was to create chaos and dissension within the royal court and government, like mites eating away at a large tree from within.) 

Meng Yao amassed an enormous amount of intels on gentry families and evidences of the many underhanded conducts of the Chief Cultivator himself. He did this through his own work and through the other women working in his network, all of whom have been wrongfully aggrieved in some way. He promised them that one day he would help them to freedom. 

For five years he’s been collecting secrets of gentry families, and had been stirring discord for three, weakening their cohesiveness, and using their growing animosity to weaken Jin Guangshan’s control on his subordinates. Naturally, Meng Yao heard about Xue Yang and the Yin Iron. It was also him who had been drawing attention to it for the other major sects. 

Meng Yao doesn’t know Lan Xichen is the Sect Master of Gusu Lan, but he has no interest in hurting a man from nowhere. “You can stay here with me until you are better. After that, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to be on your way.”

Physically Lan Xichen recovered quickly, but when it was clear his memories wouldn’t be coming back, Meng Yao allowed him to stay. 

The rest, as they say, is history. 

~

Meng Yao has been Lianfang, been the famed courtesan, for longer than he cares to remember. He’s been had, used, and passed around by so many men that their faces are just blurried sillouettes in his memory. And yet, he’s never felt for a moment that he belonged to any of them, not even his patron, who possessed his contract and could resell him back to a lesser establishment and ruin him in a heartbeat. 

But when A-Lan held him in his eyes, warm and dark like a summer’s night, without judgement or expectations, only gentle sweetness and a fond regard, Meng Yao could almost pretend he was just A-Yao, the name whispered reverently by those soft lips. The hand that held his moved to stroke his cheek, almost shy, and Meng Yao realized with a fearful pang that if this man from nowhere with nothing were to ask, Meng Yao could most definitely become his. 

The thought scared him more than he was willing to admit. 

~

The message delivered by the pigeon was clear. Meng Yao crumbled the slip of paper in his hand, then set it aflame in the candlelight. 

The man who’s been living with him for the past four months, who he knew as A-Lan, who he trusted enough to take to bed, was the Sect Master of Gusu Lan: Lan Huan, Lan Xichen.

Zewu-jun.  

Everyone, even a non-cultivator such as himself, has heard of Gusu’s Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen’s young widower, left alone after not even six months of marriage. 

But if even he wasn’t married, Lan Xichen could never accept him as he was, no matter now much his personal desire wanted him. 

His hands shook. He balled them into fists. 

Meng Yao should’ve known... he should’ve known it was too good to be true. 

No matter, he told himself. This too, is an opportunity, perhaps the only one I will ever have. I will use it to destroy Jin Guangshan once and for all. 

~

Lan Xichen made his way to the window, and gazed out into the courtyard where A-Yao was reading under the willow tree. 

You should go home, a voice inside him said. Go home to relief Wangji of his burden, to release Wuxian from his mourning. Go back to the seat of Sect Master and the responsibilities waiting for you. 

One more day, another voice fought back. Just one more day. 

He doesn’t leave for another month. 

[i-growl-growl-growl]

Attack on Lanling city

I took some liberties with this scenario because.... fiction....

This story falls apart at the seams as it goes on so prepare for a good start off but downfall of the story as you continue reading.                  

Also, this scenario doesn’t include Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji.

Hope you enjoy anyway.

~Savie

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Members of the Lanling Jin sect watch in terror as dark clouds of black smoke fill the air, looming over the carp tower with its damning fiery bolts of lightning flashing dangerously as the approach of the storm nears closer at an unfathomable pace. Couples and families cower as flashes of the unnaturally red lighting strike in the distance leaving wakes of fire the color of blood to spout in their paths of destruction. Screams and cries from young ones fill the air as people hysterically rumor of their impending doom to each other, even Jin Guangshan and Madam Jin are filled with fright as hysteria picks up around them. All who are witness to the filling darkness of the sky know that the cause is of a casted curse or a ploy to have the city distracted while troops or monsters of another clan make way to destroy them, from whom and why however is unknown. The wise know that such actions as cowering away or screaming for help, running in no given direction other than away from the storm won’t serve to aid their positions should an attack arise but even they quiver in their places as the storm surges on, now passing overhead.

“Master Jin, who is causing such havoc?” a lady asks as she nears the leading couple of the sect, tear of fear fill her widened eyes as her body shakes when otherwise not preoccupied with jumping in her place whenever the deafening strikes of lightning sound from above. “I’m not certain” he speaks to her, leaving his focus from the storm to face her, noticing the brown and red stains of her robes, shoes nowhere in sight, her feet bloodied more than her robes- obvious implications that she had been elsewhere, facing other terrors beforehand. “The causer of this is unknown” he replies, remaining as stoic as he can, determined to keep pride in his image as a strong leader. “Madam Jin” he calls to his lover beside him “take her anywhere that is safest and have someone tend to her.” “Yes” she obeys with a bow of respect to his order, “miss, we shall go now” she speaks lightly, holding out her hands to wrap around the young lady as they leave to find a place of peace.

Jin Guangshan returns his attention to the storm which has now covered the city, the clouds are darker- a black so unfathomable that it’s nearly blinding to the eyes as though an inverse of directly staring into the sun- the sharp lightning within rapidly unpaced. No major building has been struck, the palace left untouched by the storm, for this the leader is grateful but, with each passing moment that he bears witness to the lightning purposefully keeping distance from such important structures he becomes more aware that whomever has sent this storm has plans to take over in some way. An attack is inevitable, this much the leader and his fellow men have now become sure of. Jin Guangshan holds his sword with a tight grip at his side in preparation, he has decided that he will do what is honorable, he shall fight with his men once the attackers arrive, whomever they may be.

It takes a touch from another’s hand to cause the leader to realize that someone has joined his side, standing to his left just a stoic as he. Jin Zixuan, his son, has come to fight with him honorably, for this the pride within Jin Guangshan rises. “the storm cannot last much longer” Jin Zixuan speaks confidently, “we shall see who has brought such a foreboding state to our city.” Jin Guangshan only nods in reply as he looks to his son without expression, he knows that his son has faced may dreary situations before, giving him knowledge of what is likely to happen during time of upheaval.

Just as Jin Zixuan had spoken, soon after the sound of rumbling troop gear and the screams of those approaching fill the ears of the pair who had stood their ground. The two turn to face the sound and see troops running towards them, an endless hoard- all with their blades unsheathed.

Those in the clan that hadn’t already run race to the frontlines to protect their leader and the heir, their screams mix in with those of the attacking forces while the sounds of blades clashing together also fill the air. There aren’t many men there to fight, but there are plenty to stall the opposing troops from getting to Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixuan before they move into action. Jin Guangshan glides into the hoard with grace, his blade effortlessly slicing at any who near him, clearing a path for a small group of men to enter along with him. Jin Zixuan witnesses this as he jumps into the air, providing a harsh kick to a group of troops that have nearly taken down a supporting fellow clan member. Like a domino effect, those who are kicked down knock those around them to the floor, allowing Jin Zixuan time to guide his supporter to his feet. Not a word of thanks is spoken for they are both too busy blocking attacks, the opposing forces doing their best to lash at any flesh or garb that doesn’t match the color of their own.

It’s nearly a blind fury of moving swiftly and hoping for the best results as the battle goes on, more and more soldiers from each side drop to the floor dead or dying as swords continue to clash, lightning having been directed to focus on the mass of people fighting, now striking those of both groups. If a man doesn’t die from being stabbed by a sword then he is likely to die by being struck or by catching on fire from those who’ve been struck if they are near. Jin Guangshan nor Jin Zixuan know of each other’s fates although there is no time to worry of such things for their minds must stay centered on fighting and surviving what both of them do know however is that their clan was far outnumbered from the beginning, and with the drop of more of their clan members, they become increasingly aware that they are fighting an already lost battle.

Sweat gathers at everyone’s foreheads from the exhaustion of battle and the heat of the flames that lick at the bodies that the lightning has scorched. Every person has a wound, they’re garbs stained with their own blood amongst the blood of their fellows as well. Should either Jin Guangshan or Jin Zixuan look to their robes, they would be unable to recognize the once pure colors of white and gold that had adorned their robes, what they’d see instead is red from collar to shoe. Everyone is slowing their advances, even those with well-trained endurance. Jumping into the air to evade an attack or perform a stunt that would’ve, and had, once aided the pair of Lanling men in their endeavors to fight off surrounding attackers are now no longer an option, the use of their own abilities have dwindled as the battles has raged on for what feels like hours but has more than like truly only been a single given hour.

Before they know it, the pair are the last remaining fighters amongst their kind. The soldiers of the attacking forces have killed their supporting men, some have branched off to find others that had hidden. The two are overpowered but face not death, the troops that have staid behind keep them in place by pointing their swords at any given place on their bodies where there’s room to prevent struggle. For what reason they are being kept alive is likely the leader’s request to interrogate them and have them tortured before granting them death. Neither Jin Guangshan nor Jin Zixuan would give in to such advances easily if it’s to be the case. As they wait for the arrival of the wretched being that has destroyed the city, they can only use their wisdom to imagine what shall happen to them as well as listen to the scream of women and children as they are chased, killed and…. They dare not think of what else is happening within the buildings that aren’t already burning around them.

When a new set of footsteps comes to attention, Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixuan both wish to see who approaches. A group of five soldiers each surround two figures, while a group of ten surround another. Two figures, Zixuan easily recognizes, it doesn’t take them to turn and face their captives before the hostages look on. Wen Chao and Xue Yang- a terrible pair that had joined forces not long ago to bring terror to the world around them. Neither of the villains speak once they face the Lanling hostages, once cocky-devilish smirks cross their faces as they eye their prey.

Jin Zixuan and Jin Guangshan can come up with no reason as to why these two would want anything to do with Lanling… that is until they find out why they remain silent. The third, final, figure to come along with the evil pair has his guards shift to the side, giving him space to be more mobile and dramatic with his reveal. Had the third figure been wearing his usual robes, the Lanling royals would’ve recognized him the most but, rather than sport his usual robes of white and gold, he has switched to a darker tone of black for his garb. Betrayal crosses the faces of both Jin Zixuan and Jin Guangshan as the final bringer of terror to the Lanling territory shows his face, an even worse devilish smile crossing his expression. The reason for Lanling Jin’s downfall……. Jin Guangyao, illegitimate son of Jin Guangshan and half-brother of Jin Zixuan.

(I found the perfect gif for this but Tumblr wouldn’t let me post it because this sites a lil bitch).

[truthbeetoldmedia]

The 100 7x01 "From the Ashes"

Welcome back to The 100 (for the last time). We have finally reached the beginning of the end and what a journey it promises to be. Last season ended with several big shockers, Abby Griffin was taken as a host for Simone Prime, the Flame was removed from Madi and effectively destroyed and Octavia Blake was stabbed and disappeared into a fine mist-ala Marvel characters after a Thanos snap. That means that the last season premiere The 100 will ever get already has a lot of questions to answer, in addition to (hopefully) managing to successfully wrap up a series that has spanned several years. 

As in previous years I’ll be dividing my review into sections, previously these sections were a riff on the concept of “The Good, The Bad, The Ugly”. This season, I will be separating them based on plot line-as even in this first episode there are two different ones-until those plots begin to coalesce into one. 

We’ll begin with what I am currently terming:

 “The Main Plot That is Somehow Made Up of Only Side Characters (Two of Whom We Just Met)”

We pick up right where we left off, with Bellamy reeling from Octavia’s strange disappearance and rushing off into the woods around Gabriel’s compound to search for her. In his grief he’s less than observant and he is knocked unconscious and abducted by an apparently invisible force. These few seconds-less than 30-represent all of the screen time Bellamy Blake receives in the first episode of the final season of The 100. Fans who have been watching the promotion for the final season have become increasingly anxious over the absence of the male lead and it seems those anxieties were justified. It is astonishing and offensive that one of the core members of the show is removed completely from the story in the final season, his absence literally stripped from him as he is once again thrust back into a plot line he has only just managed to escape: his life (and thus his worth) being directly proportional to Octavia’s. As Hope escapes and Gabriel and Echo take off after Bellamy we finally actually enter “The Main Plot That is Somehow Made Up of Only Side Characters”. 

Eventually, Gabriel and Echo run into Hope, who has discovered-albeit too late-a piece of paper lodged in her arm that states “Trust Bellamy”.That message doesn’t stop her from getting into a quick tussle with Echo and it’s obvious that she’s had some training-with a mother like Diyoza and some kind of relationship with Octavia, that’s not at all surprising. The three of them-after coming to a sort of peace with one another, journey for quite some time. It is full dark before they catch up with the invisible force that has taken Bellamy and when they do so, they find themselves caught up in the hallucinations that the anomaly causes. 

Here we see Echo confronted by two ghosts from her past, King Roan and the actual Echo-the one she murdered in order to survive. Both ghosts make valid points-that Echo is a creature driven by servitude, which some I suppose would mistakenly call loyal. They even go so far as to question Echo’s purpose in life now that her current master (Bellamy) is missing. I don’t think it’s an unfair assessment. Echo latched on to Bellamy in Season 4, seeing him as an authoritarian figure and she never really let go. While I do believe that they both love each other, it seems very obvious that said love (at least on Echo’s part) is fueled by a need to have someone who she can serve. Who is Echo once she no longer has someone to answer to, who does she become when her one stabilizing figure is gone. I suppose that’s a question we’ll get answers to this season. Hope also sees a vision-albeit shorter-of Octavia telling her to stay quiet, no matter what she hears. As this is a line we’ve heard in the trailer, it seems obvious that the anomaly can also show someone memories and not just their innermost fears (what we see with Echo). Gabriel sees nothing-or at least nothing we see, but this is unsurprising given he’s studied the anomaly so long. 

Finally managing to break free of the hallucinations that they’re being shown the trio manage to get the jump on a few of the invisible assailants and when they do the audience is shown the inside of their helmets. Hope they are told to kill on sight, indicating that she is somehow a known threat to them, but Echo and Gabriel are supposed to be reditioned to Bardo. I’d like to take the time to point out now that to rendition doesn’t simply mean to take. It means that you are treating these people as political prisoners who know potentially damaging information-and want to use any means including inhumane ones to retrieve that information. And Bellamy has already been taken. Despite the order to rendition Gabriel and Echo though, they don’t actually seem to want to capture them, instead continuing to rebuff them, together Gabriel, Echo and Hope manage to stop the assault and their story ends with them walking into the anomaly holding hands-so that they won’t be separated. It’s possible their next stop lands them directly in Bellamy’s path, but given it’s taken them so long to catch up with the Invisible Force I find that unlikely, especially given that the Force can apparently conjure up the anomaly whenever they choose to. 

I do find it very interesting that the Invisible Force was also meant to capture Echo and Gabriel and yet-when they chase after Bellamy-the Force fights them off. I'm assuming that they choose to take Bellamy and leave the others so someone is left behind to tell Clarke that Bellamy has been taken.This makes sense as, Clarke being the main character, she’s likely the person they’re trying to ultimately take. It’s just one more piece of bait (that will produce no actual results) for Bellarke fans however. While the instinct is to be excited that whoever has taken Bellamy likely knows that Clarke will do whatever she can to save Bellamy, at this point we all know that nothing good is on the horizon for him. 

This leads me into my next section:

“Almost All of the Mains are Here, but it Feels Like This Plotline is Unnecessary”

Sprinkled through this episode like bits of parsley (aka food grass) are the rest of the Arkadians (and yes I still call them that). So much of this particular plot feels like something that could have been taken care of during the Season 6 finale. Almost everything that happens in Sanctum could have been carefully tied up during the final bit of Season 6 and we could have begun this Season with the scene of Octavia being stabbed and disappearing. It feels very disjointed to watch Clarke (and the others) deal with the repercussions of what happened in space, like what to do with Russell Prime (especially as it appears that all of these things happen literally the day after the Season 6 finale). We’re expected to believe that Clarke has apparently gone through all of the stages of grief, somehow managed to find a perfect yellow farmhouse, set up Russell in what is essentially serving as a prison and begun to discuss plans for building a compound for the Arkadians all in, what is essentially a few hours after her mother’s death?

To top all of that off, we never see any cracks in the picture perfect “I’m fine” exterior until Clarke snaps when Russell hands over Abby's ring and clothes and begins to beat him rather brutally. It’s such a stark contrast to her behavior over the course of the episode that it just doesn’t align with anything that she’s done. To have Clarke go from “I want to do better because I don’t want Madi to grow up in a cruel society.” to “We’ve all made mistakes, tomorrow Russell Prime dies for his.” almost gave me whiplash. It would have been so much more believable if we’d seen small cracks in her facade over the course of the episode, but there were none. Am I meant to believe that-like Madi retains some of the memories of the Commanders before her even though the Flame is destroyed-that Josephine (and her sociopathy) linger in Clarke’s consciousness and that’s what made her brutally assault Russell? Or am I meant to believe that this is truly Clarke? I don’t know, but I do know that whatever message they were trying to sink there, it didn’t land. 

I did really love Madi’s plot this episode. I enjoy that, now that the Flame is dead she doesn’t have to be a receptacle for a long dead love interest of Clarke’s. I enjoyed that she was going to school and has a house and a dog. I really liked that she was finally able to remind Clarke (and the audience) that she had a mother before Clarke and she didn’t just forget her because Clarke showed up. I did not like the fact that-even in the absence of the Flame-we are expected to believe that Madi still maintains memories from the commander and of course the one they choose to focus on is one of Clarke as Wanheda-meaning that it’s a memory of Lexa’s. It is infuriating to me that the Flame can be destroyed and yet Madi as a character somehow still exists as a mouthpiece for a character who has been dead for over 125 years at this point. It would be nice if this show could spend time actually developing the new characters they forcefully insert into the narrative every year, but I expect in the final season, that might be asking for a bit too much. 

To further the refusal to leave the Grounders in the past, Jason somehow manages to have the Dark Commander transfer his consciousness into Russell Prime’s where he lurks in the background until Russell is knocked unconscious by Clarke (are we to assume Russell has not slept during this time as well?). My best guess is that he does this by using some type of Bluetooth/Wi-Ffi situation,  When they are destroying the flame and uploading him into the Eligius ship. Because both are Eligius tech, the Flame and the mind drives created by Becca are similar. I assume the Dark Commander’s code searched for (and found in Russell-who was on the ship) something similar to his own tech and simply uploaded himself onto it in the background, waiting for an opportunity to show up. Now all that’s left is to see what type of fresh hell he unleashes on an entirely new planet-especially given some of the residents of said planet believe him to be a god.

I do find Murphy potentially interesting this year. For years he has managed to “cockroach” his way through situations. Staying alive through nearly impossible situations. But there seems to be a fair amount of turmoil surrounding his decisions as they relate to Clarke and Abby (and their deaths) as well as his decision to become a Prime. Given that connection with two of the three Griffin women, and my concern that Madi will find herself in danger once it’s discovered that she is no longer the Commander and once the Dark Commander manages to get her alone (which we all know will happen sooner or later), I would not be surprised if Murphy (who has never been one to make the sacrifice play) does so in this final Season. 

Smaller things I enjoyed include Raven and Clarke’s relationship being on the mend. The two haven’t really been friends since Season 2 and Finn’s death, so it’s nice to see that-although it took Shaw and Abby’s deaths respectively-they seem to be leaning on each other at this time. With Clarke having lost all of her natural born family, it would not surprise me if she is willing to go to devastating lengths this Season to keep them all safe. I’m also very interested in the increased presence of both Gaia and Indra. As a fan of both Tati Gabrielle and Adina Porter (and their massive talent) in show’s outside of The 100, I’ve yearned for a deeper exploration into their relationship for Seasons. It looks like we might finally get to dive deeper into who they are now that Gaia is no longer a Flamekeeper and Indra no longer has a Commander. 

Overall, I believe this is the weakest Season Premiere of The 100 to date, which is terribly disappointing given the fact that it’s the last one they’ve ever received. Even though we have yet to see the backdoor pilot (Rothenberg says it will be 708), it already feels like this final Season will serve more as a way to set up a show that will likely not take off the ground (because Rothenberg has successfully managed to upset every person in the show’s fanbase) than the sendoff to the existing characters and stories he’s spent 7 years building. It will be a terrible thing if that is indeed the case. Hopefully, based off of the title of this episode, The 100 will manage to make some sort of phoenix-esque ressurection. But for now, I don’t know if they have enough time to truly tell the story that Rothenberg wants to.

The 100 airs Wednesdays at 8/7c on The CW

Aprille’s episode rating: 🐝🐝

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

Light From the Shadow Part 2

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

Pairing:  Aragorn /Reader

Characters: Reader, Aragorn, Gandalf, Elrond

Word Count: 1959

Warning: Talk of death and torture

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you all for the kind words on the first part, they meant the world to me! I’m sorry this part took so long, but between needing to write original content and a struggling muse, I didn’t get it done as quickly as I would’ve liked :( 

This part is longer though and has some explanations, so I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 

The dull ache in your temple was what roused you, pulling you back from the darkness. You were lying on something soft, but it only took a subtle shift to feel that whatever was under you was not all that thick, and hard floor was barely being concealed. Opening your eyes for the first time, you looked up at a  bare stone ceiling that had seen better days. A cell. You shifted again, moving to brace your hands on the ground to push yourself up, but the movement was restricted when you failed to spread your arms with a soft clink. Shackles. Naturally. With what remained of your patience shortening by the second, you managed to force yourself into a sitting position and fully took in your surroundings.

Your first assumption had been right; you were in a cell. Three stone walls stood around you, the fourth made of bars that looked out into a cold hall that was no doubt filled with other similar prisons. Metal shackles were clamped around your wrists, limiting your movements, and another sat around your ankle. You followed the chain to see that it connected to the back wall, preventing you from walking too far ahead. Your armour and weapons had been stripped from you, leaving you in just your blood red robe. You pulled it up, revealing a bandage around your calf. A dressing for the injury Isildur’s heir had inflicted upon you when he’d tripped you.

Him.

Why had he not killed you? He’d acted as though he knew you, but that made no sense. Never had your paths crossed. You only knew of him by name and that he was wanted dead by Lord Sauron.  

“Finally awake then.” A man came into view, a soldier. “Pity.”

You said nothing in return, just stared at him.

“Lord Aragorn should have killed you when he had the chance. To spend resources on someone like you…”

That made you smirk. You rose to your feet, smoothly despite the shackles, and walked as close to the bars as the chain would allow. Your leg throbbed in pain, but you ignored it. “Then free me, and I will be gone from your sight. A thing both of us would find agreeable.” You spoke softly, almost sweetly. “Or you could come with me. By my side, we could do great things together. Is that not what you wish? You could lead your own armies, command them to do your will, instead of having to follow the orders from those who do not care about you. None here would weep at your death. But next to me, death would never find you. We would live forever, mighty and powerful, in control of our own destinies.”

One thing your Master had taught you was that the right words, spoken at the right time, could have more power than weapons, could sway even the deadliest of enemies. The soldier before you certainly did not meet that quota, and already you could see the wavering in his features. “What is it you wish for most? Free me from these bonds and I will see it granted.”

“I...I wish…” The soldier reached for the keys on his belt, unhooking them.

“Yes? Tell me, brother, and you will have.”

The metal jangled as the soldier found the right key and held it up to the lock. “I-”

“What are you doing?!” Another soldier burst around the corner, and the one in front of you jerked back, looking stunned as he came back to himself.

“Her! She...she cast some spell upon me!”

“I merely spoke the words you wanted to hear. Told you of the fate you could have if you chose the right side!”

“You asked me what I wished, well I wish you would use your evil magic and rid this world of your presence! Lord Aragorn will soon march upon the Black Gate, and he will be victorious, and you and all your brethren will suffer!”

You snarled, your cuffs clanging loudly against the bars as you grabbed them. “He will lose, and you will all die!” You yelled as the soldiers retreated. “There is no defeating the Great Eye! You will beg for death before the end!”

~

You believed your words. It was impossible for mere mortals to defeat Lord Sauron. Even with someone like Isildur’s heir leading them, the task was laughable. So you sat in your cell and waited. Guards always delivered your food in duos, and they always rotated who, never risking you wooing another into freeing you. It mattered not. Soon the pathetic, ranger-led army would perish, and you would be freed.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The pain struck you hard and fast, knocking the air from your lungs as a searing agony shot its way through your head.

No. No, it could not be. It was impossible.

The soldiers laughed when they confirmed it true.

Sauron had been defeated. His ring destroyed, destroying him in the process. Everything you had fought for...gone. What purpose did you have now? The one thing you had to do was fight to earn him dominance, and now that had been stolen from you. You no longer had an aim, a reason to be.

Those thoughts you kept to yourself, instead spitting venomous words at any who approached you. If they believed you would be so easily broken and defeated, they were wrong. You would fight with all the malice of your Masters until this Aragorn finally saw fit to kill you.

It was several days after your defeat when he and two others walked down the steps to your cell. You knew who they were, and snarled as they approached. Your Master had shown them to you many times, telling you of their evil power, how they were your biggest threats. You were no match for them, and honeyed words would be of no use, but that did not mean you would cower away at the sight.

Standing to full height, you watched as Aragorn, the Elf Lord Elrond, and Mithrandir came to a stop before you.

They were silent at first, watching you watch them. Aragorn looked sorrowful again, still to your confusement, the Elf looked unhappy, his eyebrows furrowed together, and a deep scowl set onto his face, and the wizard… The wizard looked upon you with neutrality. He was the one who unsettled you the most.

“What is your name?” It was Mithrandir who spoke first. He was not overly loud, yet still, the authority rippled forth. It was easy to see how so many looked at him for guidance.

You said nothing.

“Whom do you serve?”

You stared forward, meeting the wizard’s eyes and refusing to wilt away under the intensity of it.

“Do not try us, you will answer our questions!” The Elf spoke, snapping your attention away from Mithrandir.

“Or what?” You hissed, “You’ll kill me? The ranger has made it clear that he would not allow it. Or do you intend on keeping me locked up here? I would sooner rot than obey you.”

“You speak as though you hold great power, I assure you, you do not.”

“I hold power enough! I am Asgareth, servant to the Great Eye! I trained under the King of Angmar. I, who am his right hand while he is Sauron’s, will bring death upon those who oppose us! Return to me my blade, and I will smite you all!”

“Enough!” Aragorn shouted before either of the other two could retaliate. “Your Masters are dead!”

“Yet I will carry out their orders until my own dying breath. It is who I am!”

“You are Y/N of the Dúnedain, daughter of Faeleth and Beinion, two of our greatest warriors. You are a ranger, sworn to protect these lands from harm!”

“Izg bolvag lat uluk sha dhaub gurz!” You yelled in the speech of Mordor, cursing them painful deaths, and turned away, breathing heavily. The names spoken struck something deep inside you, though you did not recognise them, or know why they caused a brief stab of pain.

“Let us leave, Aragorn. We have learned enough,” Mithrandir spoke from behind you, and soon the sound of retreating footsteps could be heard as they left you behind.

The doors to the cells closed with a heavy thud as the trio walked to more private quarters. Aragron slumped down into a chair with a weary sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not understand. With them dead should their power over her not be gone?”

“It depends on what they did to her. You are sure, Aragorn, that it is Y/N?” Gandalf asked, sitting across the table from Aragorn.

“Her face has filled my dreams since she went missing all those years ago. I assumed her dead. The rest of the scouting party met the same fate.”

“Yet her body was never recovered?”

“Just her weapons. Wargs had gotten to the others, their bodies defiled. I believed hers had been too, dragged off to a den mother perhaps. I was a fool.”

“Not a fool. No one would think that she had been taken by Him.”

With another sigh, Aragorn looked up at Gandalf. “What do I do? How do I help her?”

“The solution, to me, is clear,” Elrond said from where he stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. He turned to face the others. “We must kill her.”

Aragorn laughed, but the smile died from his lips when he saw Elrond’s seriousness. “You must be jesting, my Lord?”

“Your friend is gone, Aragorn, as painful as it may be to admit. In the pits of Angmar, her mind was broken and stripped from her, replaced with the one we see now. The one who’s only thoughts and desires is that of pain and revenge. She will not cease.”

“No. No. She reacted when I told her who she truly was!”

“She cursed us in the foulest of speeches. I would not say that was positive.”

“It could perhaps be that the cause for such an extreme response was some part of her mind knows Aragorn spoke true, yet refuses to admit it,” Gandalf added, looking between the others.

“Perhaps,” Elrond conceded. “Perhaps there is a sliver of a chance you can return her to her right mind, but think, Aragorn. For her to remember who she is, would mean remembering everything. All the pain and torture she went through at the hands of the Witch-King, the heinous things she did in his service. Your friend was good of heart, to force her to remember all that sorrow and evil, could harm her worse than any torture she experienced in Angmar.”

Aragorn looked away, down at his hands for a moment, and then to Gandalf. “Lord Elrond speaks wisely, Aragorn. It may indeed be a greater kindness to give Y/N a swift death that to force her through more pain.”

There was silence in the room while they waited for Aragorn to think and say something. He rose first, pacing across the floor. “Neither of you knew Y/N before. She has faced challenges that would send many men home to their mother and triumphed. She volunteered to lead the scouting party into Angmar. No one else stepped up to the challenge. She was, is, bold, and fearless and strong. I will win her mind back, and face the repercussions together.”

Elrond frowned, stepping forward. “Aragorn, think wisely-”

“All I have done is think since I came across Y/N on the field of Pelennor. I am done. I do not know how, but on this, I swear; I will bring back she who was to be my wife.”

Tagging: @medicatemedrmccoy @estel-of-the-eyrie @ravennawritesfanfiction @moose-on-the-l00se @pegasusdragontiger @sean-macguire @little-fettuccine @kingthorin-oakenshield @pielovingwarlock @nutella-hitler @onaqua @mass-moriarty-effect89 @hellvenum @abbie-slytherinatheart @aishahiwatari @emeraldeagle8911 @tarithenurse @bluebird214 @thinkwritexpress-official @likethatkidoverthere @cloakedindarknessphoenix @andrakass2 @gretchenzellerbarnes @tokyogirl137 @imagine-all-the-imagines @smileygirl08 @therealyeoman @persephonipepperoni @sapphireduck 

[headquartersforlievmuses]

► Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne's valet at Wayne Manor. He knows that Bruce is secretly Batman and aids him. Alfred Pennyworth, after a varied career, was employed as the Wayne family valet when Bruce Wayne's parents were killed. Alfred raised the young orphan and reluctantly aided him in his quest to become Batman. His many skills—ranging from cooking to medicine—make him Batman's staunchest ally, along with a formal demeanor that grounds the Dark Knight and deflects those who might otherwise suspect Batman's true identity.

Alfred was a retired intelligence agent who followed the deathbed wish of his dying father, Jarvis, to carry on the tradition of serving the Wayne Family. To that end, Alfred introduced himself to Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson at Wayne Manor and insisted on becoming their butler. Although the pair did not want one, especially since they did not want to jeopardize their secret identities with a servant in the house, they did not have the heart to reject Alfred. That night, Alfred awoke to moaning and followed the sound to the secret door to the staircase to the Batcave and met his would-be employers in their superhero identities (Wayne had been injured while out in the field). As it turned out, the wounds were actually insignificant, but Alfred's care convinced the residents that their butler could be trusted. Since then, Alfred included the support staff duties of the Dynamic Duo on top of his regular tasks.

In the Post-Crisis comics' continuity, Alfred has been the Wayne Family butler all of Bruce's life and had helped his master establish his superhero career from the beginning.  In addition, he was Bruce's legal guardian following the deaths of his parents. Alfred's history has been modified several times over the years, creating assorted versions. In one such version, Alfred was hired away from the British Royal Family by Bruce's parents, and he virtually raised Bruce after they were murdered.

Following the murders of the Wayne Family, Alfred was named Bruce's legal guardian in the will left by Thomas and Martha, however, social services combated the will feeling that Bruce should not be raised by a servant. However, Bruce managed to remain in Alfred's care by, despite his young age, bribing the social service agent into allowing Alfred to raise him.

Alfred would later aid Bruce in raising Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake, all of whom would be adopted by Bruce Wayne and become his partner Robin. He also had close friendships with other members of the Bat-Clan including Barbara Gordon and Cassandra Cain (the latter of whom would also be adopted by Bruce prior to his death). Alfred often acts as a father-figure to Bruce, and a grandfather to Dick, Jason, Tim and Cassandra. However, due to his rather cold personality, Bruce Wayne makes sure that at least some degree of the business relationship between the two always exists. He is also highly respected by those heroes who are aware of his existence, including Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and the original Teen Titans.

During the events of Knightquest, Alfred accompanies Wayne to England and becomes enraged when Wayne insists on endangering his own health while paraplegic. This was the culmination of several weeks of Wayne's self-destructive behavior, and when Wayne returns to Gotham, Alfred remains in England, tendering his resignation. He spends some time vacationing in Antarctica and The Bahamas before returning to England. Dick Grayson tracks him down several months later and convinces him to return to Wayne Manor. In that story, it was revealed he had walked out of his own wedding years earlier.

His resourcefulness came to the fore in the No Man's Land storyline, especially in Legends of the Dark Knight #118. Batman is missing for weeks, leaving Alfred alone to watch his city for him. He uses his skills as an actor, storyteller, medic, and spy to survive and collect information on the recently destroyed society. Alfred even uses hand-to-hand combat in a rare one-panel fight sequence between him and a pair of slavers that ends with his rescue by Batman.

At a point in which Commissioner Gordon was shot and nearly killed, Alfred took notice that Bruce was behaving increasingly out of sorts. Feeling that Bruce had pushed his entire family as far away as possible, Alfred gave Bruce his resignation and left his employment. Alfred, however, continued to work with the Bat-family, going with Tim to the Brentwood Academy for Boys, working as his butler. Following Bruce being accused of murdering a girlfriend (actually executed by David Cain), Alfred returned to Bruce's employment.

After the timeline is reset, Bruce Wayne is once again working out of Wayne Manor with Alfred as his primary confidante. When the Joker mounts his latest attack against Batman, his first step is to abduct Alfred, prompting concern from the rest of the family that the Joker knows Batman's true identity, but Bruce affirms that the Joker just chose Alfred because of Wayne's connection to Batman Inc. rather than personal knowledge, later confessing to Alfred that he once 'tested' the Joker and confirmed that the Joker is incapable of acknowledging the idea that Batman may have another identity.

During a major assault on Batman's life, Alfred is reunited with his long-absent daughter, Julia Pennyworth, an agent of the Special Reconnaissance Regiment, when Batman finds her in Hong Kong and takes her back to Wayne Manor for medical treatment after she is stabbed with a samurai sword through the chest by a Chinese gang boss the two were hunting. Although Julia is initially hostile to Alfred, feeling that he has wasted his life going from a soldier to tending to a fop like Bruce Wayne, after Alfred is attacked by Hush and infected with a fear toxin, Julia discovers the Batcave and takes on her father's role to coordinate the Bat-Family's efforts. Alfred is briefly transferred to Arkham before it is attacked as part of the conspiracy, but he manages to survive the explosion and trick Bane into helping him reach an emergency cave Batman had installed under the asylum, the cave's defences knocking Bane out and allowing Alfred to call for help. When Hush was briefly kept prisoner in the Batcave, he managed to break out of his cell and lock Alfred in it before sabotaging the Bat-Family's equipment via the Batcomputer as they fought various villains, including crashing the Batwing with Batman still in it. However, he was swiftly returned to captivity when Alfred escaped the cell and knocked Hush out, Alfred harshly informing Tommy that he was hardly going to be locked up in his own home.

Alfred has taken on the role as Bruce Wayne's surrogate father after the death of his parents. Aside from that, Alfred is loyal, intelligent, caring, hardworking, tireless, sometimes sarcastic, wise, brave, bold, protective, kind and fatherly. Despite being discomfortable and worried about Bruce's role as Batman (this is best shown when he cleaning, he beared a look a concern while holding the mask), he none the less supports him in his crusade to ride Gotham of Crime

Attributes

Skilled actor

Trained in emergency medical techniques

Proficient with mechanical and computer systems

Expert in domestic sciences

Unflappable manner

Unlike Batman, perfectly willing to wield firearms during times of crisis

Verses

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