#and they were punished severely for it to the point where they lost every remnant of humanity

[emcads]

i have a post cooking in my brain about how jack’s own reckoning with ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ is a reflection of a the larger theme in the series wherein acts of mercy and grace lead to your own downfall.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Miracle Queen Aftermath

Because there is a disappointing lack of focus or depth for the aftermath of Miracle Queen in canon, I have made my own.

Be warned of: Chloe salt. A lot of it. Chloe faces consequences for things.

Some Bustier salt. Some Adrien being called out on things (but he gets better).

Enjoy!

In the weeks following the Miracle Queen incident, a lot had happened.

Hawk Moth had increased his power, and was now able to summon akumas and amoks at the same time.

Master Fu was gone and now Ladybug found herself the official Guardian of the Miraculous—along with the Miracle Box, kwamis, and duties that entails.

Marinette had resolved to let go of her crush on Adrien, and to support him and Kagami in their new relationship together.

And Chloe had been arrested and would now be going on trial for assisting a terrorist.

It was that last bit of news that had caused the most commotion in Paris and the world at large. What people would have dismissed as simply another akuma attack turned into a much greater matter when accusations started to be made about Chloe helping the super villain intentionally. This was soon backed by multiple eyewitness accounts and further proven by leaked video evidence showing Chloe not only attempting to grab a butterfly for herself after she was de-akumatized but even negotiating with the terrorist before the incident in which she betrayed the heroes of Paris and revealed the identities of most of the team.

To say that the people of Paris were outraged was putting it mildly. People were akumatized over it. Chloe was in a secured facility where she had armed guards around to watch her just as much as they were there to protect her. New legislation was being considered to specifically address willingly aiding supervillains. The backlash was so severe that many were calling the mayor’s own position into question.

After all, if his daughter could do all of that, who was to say that he wasn’t also in Hawk Moth’s pocket?

For Mayor Andre, his hands were tied. While he had covered for his daughter and her selfishness in the past, this was one thing he couldn’t overlook. Not when it brought his position as mayor under scrutiny. And certainly not when it opened a probe into his own dealings.

None of this was helped either by the multitude of witnesses of Chloe‘s past behavior. In particular, her many victims over the years.

And there were a lot.

Now that Chloe was actually being held accountable for something, it seemed to have opened a floodgate of outcries as the many people she tormented finally felt able to air their grievances. They came out on TV, on social media, on radio. Stories littered the air and internet of the horrors of dealing with this single teenage girl.

“She tried to cheat during this designing competition. She apparently stole some other girl’s hat design and tried to pass it off as her own.”

“She was the reason the mayor tried to shut down my ice skating rink! To build another gym! Paris has enough gyms! Why couldn’t she just go to one of those?”

“She had her dad shut down Clara Nightingale’s music video and got her akumatized just because she didn’t get to play Ladybug. We waited in that line for HOURS and didn’t get chosen either, but no one else threw a fit over it.”

“She shoved a giant signed poster of Adrien Agreste professing his love to her in my friend’s face just to make her cry! I found out after the fact that he didn’t even know about it!”

“Our entire school was punished for someone pulling the fire alarm except for her because she threatened our principal. So while the rest of us were having to clean up the school, she spent the entire time insulting and making fun of us.“

“Knowing her, she probably pulled the fire alarm in the first place.”

“She tried to crash a train! I don’t think I can emphasize that enough: she tried to crash a train!“

“Chloe Bourgeois joined up with Hawk Moth? Can’t say it’s a shock.”

“Yeah, given how many akumas she caused, I’d been wondering if she hadn’t been working with him all along.”

It wasn’t that unbelievable to the populous. Nor did anyone feel particularly sympathetic towards her for her current situation. Some might have for lack of knowing her, but Chloe had carved herself a special place in the memories and hearts of nearly every Parisian. There was nobody who didn’t know of her or have some experience with her by this point. So when it came out that she was arrested and facing criminal charges, the response was…rather telling.

Practically everyone was calling loved ones as soon as they heard, resulting in high phone and internet traffic. The Ladyblog crashed after making the announcement. Several people threw parties. People over the internet started coming up with a list of “Things We Will Be Allowed To Do Once Chloe Is In Prison”, with a count that currently rested at 139 and was rising quickly. One guy bought 500 cupcakes and just started passing them out to people on the street singing a jaunty little tune from some late 1930’s cult classic American movie. The school had closed down for a couple of days due to several teachers calling out sick—possibly with hangovers from celebrating a bit too hard. Various Queen-related hashtags and memes were trending with each seeming to fight for the top spot of most used. #let her eat cake was currently in the lead. And Mr. Ramier somehow orchestrated a 21 pigeon salute. On Chloe’s rooftop.

As it was, nobody expressed surprise when it came out that she worked with a supervillain. Many were disappointed, shaking their heads and saying “if only something had been done sooner” or blaming the parents and teachers and other adults in her life. Most were angry, mainly that things had been allowed to get this far and that they hadn’t been acted on earlier—particularly after the train incident.

But no. Nobody was surprised.

Except, perhaps, Marinette herself.

Still reeling from the events of Miracle Queen and the aftermath of…well…everything involved, Marinette had been questioning herself. Constantly. Incessantly. Going over and over in her mind all the things she could have done differently. Blaming herself for all the major blows to their team.

She lost her mentor. Her allies have been compromised. Chloe, one of her former allies, chose to betray them all. Hawk Moth had the grimoire now. Marinette didn’t have a grimoire. Fu had no memories.

And it was all because of her mistakes.

Last time, the prospect of never having to deal with Chloe again had been a relief.

Now…it was background static to her.

She could barely hear the announcements and cheers over the endless cycle of her own thoughts.

I should have tried harder. I should have been more aware. I failed them all. This is because of me.

So while everyone else in Paris was celebrating, de-stressing, or just outright reveling in the news, Marinette was grieving. With the help of the kwamis and Chat Noir, she had been trying to come to terms with what happened and figure out the next plan of action.

Hawk Moth had changed the game, so she needed to step up hers.

The days seemed to have passed in a blur. Between working with the kwamis, trying to recreate and retranslate the grimoire, and simply trying to deal with the remnants of Fu’s life that he had left to her, Marinette had barely even kept up with the current state of things in Paris. Or in particular, Chloe.

Not until the day came when Bustier made an announcement.

Chloe‘s trial date was finally decided. And though she didn’t say as such, it was clear that the case against her was pretty solid. There was video evidence. Eye witness accounts. And Chloe’s own words and actions working against her.

The odds were not in her favor on this. Even if her parents did try to help her, she wasn’t going to get off this time. Aside from getting the best lawyers money by, there really wasn’t much they could do.

Maybe that was why Bustier had tried to step in?

“Now class, I have received word that they are moving to the next step with Chloe’s hearing. Right now, they are looking for character witnesses for Chloe’s defense.” The kind teacher explained, causing Marinette to snap to awareness and realize just what was going on. Partly because of the mention of Chloe and her court case.

But mostly because of the sudden dead silence in the class…

To be fair, she wasn’t sure she could say anything either. Marinette felt her throat go dry and her muscles tense. There was a sudden tightness in her lungs that while she could breathe, it felt like she was suffocating. Why was Bustier bringing this up now?

The teacher smiled, seemingly unaware of the sudden tension and Marinette’s slow drowning. “I know this has been a difficult experience knowing that one of your classmates is facing such a trial. And Chloe will certainly need support. So I thought it would be kind if everyone wrote a letter supporting her for the hearing coming up, so the courts can hear about Chloe and understand more about who she is.”

Silence. Dead silence.

Maybe Bustier herself picked up on the growing tension, as she proceeded to move to passing out papers to the class. “I thought it would make for a nice project, so I will give you all the forms explaining the requirements. Take some time to think over what positive things you want to say about Chloe. If you have any questions, please feel free to come talk to me.”

After that, she quickly left the room, citing the desire to let them have this free time to work on the letters.

The class remained silent for a good minute after she left. Almost as if they were questioning if she would return. Or perhaps if she was listening.

Then—

“‘Think about what positive things we want to say about Chloe?’ Well that’s easy!” Alix spoke blithely, curling the paper she received into a ball. “Nothing!” She shouted and tossed it over her shoulder. “Assignment done!”

Murmurs filled the classroom. Some sounded uncertain, but most seemed to be in agreement. Or at least expressing distaste for the assignment.

“Is she serious?”

“Does she really expect us to?”

“Of all the worst ideas...”

Marinette could hear them, but couldn’t seem to acknowledge anything around her. And furthermore, she couldn’t make herself respond.

Chloe‘s trial was set for a point in the next few weeks, and at this point there was no denying just what type of person she was. If anything, this was probably the first time that anyone was allowed to actually speak their mind about the girl, and they were all reveling in it. Her classmates in particular.

Marinette couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Sure, Chloe has tried to blackmail her more than once.

And damaged her gift to their teacher.

And attempted to frame her a few times.

And stolen her hat design.

And her diary.

And a Miraculous.

And all of the other Miraculous.

But...she had been doing better for a while there, hadn’t she?

Didn’t she only betray them all in the end because Marinette had chosen Kagami over her for her own selfish reasons? Didn’t Hawk Moth only capture Fu because of her own mistake? Hadn’t Chloe only revealed everyone else because she felt betrayed? Couldn’t Marinette have done more to prevent Chloe turning?

Wasn’t a simple letter on Chloe’s virtues the least she could do?

So why...

Why couldn’t she seem to bring herself to?

Kim frowned, looking at his paper in worry. “We’re not going to get graded on this, are we?”

Nathaniel huffed. “I’ll willingly take the failing grade any day.”

“Hear hear!”

“But if it’s a grade…” Max murmured to himself. Out of everyone in the class, he took his grades the most seriously, so this was no doubt a difficult choice for him. He looked at his paper with a rather conflicted expression for a minute before sighing and turning it face-down on the desk. “No. It’s an impossible task in the first place.”

Kim rested a hand on Max’s shoulder in sympathy. It wasn’t that he cared as much about grades as Max did, but it was clear that the fallout of refusing could be more troubling for the genius who took his academic performance so seriously. If Bustier did make it a mandatory assignment with a grade, it’d be horribly unfair of her.

“What was it Chloe said before?” Ivan asked, looking over his page with a glare. “Once a monster, always a monster? I guess she’d know more than anyone.”

Mylene hugged him. “You’re not a monster. You never chose to be.”

“None of us did.” Nino agreed.

“Nobody did except her.” Alix bit out.

Mumbles of agreement came from the rest of the class. It was clear that none of them were on board with having anything to do with Chloe, much less try to help her with her current legal woes.

There was a large part of Marinette that agreed with them. But even so, there was also a large part of her that insisted she had to do the right thing and help.

She knew she should say something. She was supposed to say something here. Because it was her fault, after all. She was Ladybug. She had to be the better person. Shouldn’t she?

“Marinette? Girl, are you okay?” Alya asked, drawing her attention. “You look a bit pale.”

It was too much. It was suffocating.

“I think I need some air. Excuse me.”

She didn’t know if anyone watched her leave the classroom. She hadn’t even noticed if anyone had chosen to follow her.

Not until…

“Marinette, are you all right?”

She spun around in surprise.

“Oh! Adrien! Hey! Hi! Hello!” She blabbered. Why was he here? Did he come out after her? Why? She didn’t need this right now! She struggled enough with him under normal circumstances, she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone with him now. Her stress over everything was bad enough, but having him approach her set her anxiety skyrocketing.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at her—and oh, what a beautiful smile. On any other day, it would ease her worries and make her want to swoon, but right now, it just made her more nervous.

“Are you all right?” He asked again. “You didn’t look so well in class.”

“Y-yeah. Just…” she sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind. With…you know…everything.”

He nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean.”

She smiled. She could always count on Adrien to be a calming supportive friend. He was always so sweet and reliable. If anyone could understand or relate to the chaotic mix of emotions she was feeling, he could.

He sighed in sympathy. “Poor Chloe.”

She froze.

“Chloe?”

“Well, yeah.” He replied, like it was obvious. “I mean, she did a bad thing, but now she’s going through the worst experience of her life. One that could ruin her future. And people are glad about it!” He shook his head. “It’s just too cruel.”

Marinette just stared.

He wasn’t wrong. But…that was what he was worried about?

She couldn’t fault him of course, because Adrien was always so kind and considerate and of course he’d feel for Chloe but…something about this just…pulled at something inside of her and was choking it.

“Chloe is already suffering enough and it feels like no one wants to help her. You heard them.” He gestured back to the classroom. “We’re being given an opportunity to make a difference for her and they’re all just saying she deserves it. Chloe is alone and hurting and they want her to hurt more.”

She felt a denial on her lips but couldn’t give voice to it.

“Everyone is so great with each other. It’s always just Chloe who is kind of on the outside. I know you’ve seen it.”

She hadn’t, actually. Because it was never Chloe on the outside looking in, it was Chloe looking down on them. Whether it was because she genuinely thought she was better or because it made her feel better to do so.

He hesitated for a moment before looking at her. And there was something in his expression that told her he was about to ask something. A gut feeling told her that it was going to be something she wouldn’t like.

“Do you think you could talk to them?” He asked her, looking so sad and despondent that she just wanted to hug him and agree to anything to make that look go away.

“M-me?”

He wanted her to convince her classmates to help Chloe?

“I know you and Chloe have had your differences, but you’ve been able to see past her front. And you’ve done a lot to help her before.” He smiled. “Like the party you threw for her after she became Queen Bee.”

A traitorous voice asked if giving her a second chance with the Miraculous she had previously stolen wasn’t enough? Why did she have to feel bad for her leaving and throw her a party to make her feel special?

“Chloe really needs the help right now. And you’re always so good about that sort of thing.” He looked to her imploringly. “Do you think you could try to get them to at least give Chloe a hand? I don’t know what impact it’ll have in her hearing, but any little bit helps, right?”

Go back in there? With the tension and the suffocation to try and convince her classmates to help when she was questioning whether to herself?

But she had to, right? After all, couldn’t she have prevented this if she had acted sooner? Couldn’t she have helped sooner instead of being focused on her own petty problems? Isn’t that what Ladybug should do?

“Please, Marinette? They listen to you. If you asked them to, I’m sure they’d be willing to at least try.”

Her vision started to dim, seeming to tunnel in on Adrien and his sad and hopeful expression. Her thoughts crying about CHLOE and poor CHLOE and how hurt CHLOE was and how it was her fault for CHLOE—

“I—”

“Oh no! No, you do NOT.”

Marinette suddenly found herself torn away from Adrien by a sudden grab of her arm and pulling sensation. She felt as if she was pushed out of the way by a fierce gale. Like a raging whirlwind had spun her around and behind it.

That whirlwind’s name was Alya.

“How dare you? How dare you try to make my girl be responsible for this!”

Marinette floundered because she had not expected this and oh no now her best friend looked ready to tear her crush’s head off!

“Alya, we don’t have to do this!” She pleaded, trying to calm the other girl down.

“Oh, we most certainly do.” Came another voice. And sure enough, the rest of the class had stepped out as well. All of them looked in varying ranges of frustrated and that frustration was clearly directed at her and Adrien.

Or rather just Adrien, as Marinette discovered when Rose and Juleka pulled her aside and out of their direct line of sight. They were all looking at Adrien, and those were not nice or understanding expressions.

Oh no! This was a disaster! Now everyone was upset and she should have just agreed or said something sooner!

Completely unaware of Marinette’s inner turmoil, Alya stepped forward and jabbed at Adrien in the chest. “You are not going to make my girl feel bad and try to help someone who has never done a single nice thing for her or anyone.” She spat out, forcing him to back away.

Adrien held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Come on, Chloe is not that bad.“

“Not that bad?” Nino exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s words. “Adrien, Chloe betrayed us!“

“She took over Paris!”

“She turned us into her servants!“

“Not to mention the other things…”

“Do we really have to name each time?” Alya started to count on her fingers. “Chloe CHOSE to take the Miraculous for herself instead of returning it. She CHOSE to transform in front of everyone and reveal her identity to the world. She CHOSE to try and crash a train, risking the lives of EVERYONE on board just to show off. She CHOSE to run off with it when Ladybug tried to take it back.”

“She also chose to continue being horrible to everyone even after Ladybug gave her a second chance.” Nathaniel added, bitterly. “She didn’t get better after becoming Queen Bee. It just became another thing for her to lord over people.”

Alya nodded. “And when Ladybug made it clear to her that she wasn’t going to be Queen Bee again, she felt ENTITLED to something that was never hers in the first place. And because of that, she made the active, knowing, and willful choice to work with Hawk Moth.”

“And out all of us while she was at it.” Kim added. “Turning us into her personal ‘guard’. Making us fight our heroes against our will.” He shuddered. “I don’t know if you were hit by those things, Adrien, but it was NOT a pleasant experience having your body turned into a puppet.”

Adrien wanted to argue that he understood full well, but that was only as Chat. He couldn’t say that here.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Alya continued. “So no, we are not going to forgive Chloe. We are not going to try and ‘get along’ with her because her own poor choices have led her to have a ‘rough time’.”

Adrien grew nervous at the way the others drew closer to Alya as she spoke, clearly backing her statements as she continued.

“We are not going to defend her or speak up on her behalf to the entirety of Paris she ALSO betrayed. Whatever consequences Chloe has to face—quite possibly the first ones she will EVER have faced in her LIFE—are nothing less than what she deserves.”

“Yeah!” Came the exclamations from the rest of the crowd.

“She didn’t know what she was doing!” Adrien argued.

“Not know what she was doing?! Adrien, she willingly accepted an akuma! She used it to take control of us and revealed us to Hawk Moth!” Alya exclaimed. “That’s just—how can you even justify that?”

With as angry as Alya was, any lesser or wiser man would have backed off.

Adrien…well, she certainly would never call him unwise, so it had to be because he was more strong-willed than that to be willing to stand his ground here.

“Hawk Moth was the one who manipulated Chloe!” He insisted. “And he’s the one who got away scott free and left Chloe to take the fall.”

“And whose fault was that?” Alya countered. “Chloe HELPED him. He only got as far as he did because of her and he only got away because she helped him!”

“Don’t you think this is cruel?” He argued back. “Yes, Chloe was wrong, but she was already called out for what she did by Ladybug and Chat Noir. The entire city hates her. Isn’t that enough?”

“NO!” Alya shouted. “No, it isn’t! Because Chloe has always gotten away with her antics in the past but you’re actually trying to get us to let Chloe off for a legitimate crime here! If Chloe is going to prison, it’s only because she deserves it!”

Around them, several of the others in the class nodded in agreement.

“How can you say that?” Adrien demanded. “Chloe made a mistake and she’s suffering for it! All this time, she’s felt left out and cut off and this only further emphasizes that for her! She’s been alone all this time and now she’s alone and miserable!”

“Then why should that be OUR problem?” Alya questioned, raising her hands in exasperation. “Why are you trying to MAKE it our problem?!”

Adrien drew back, looking genuinely hurt.

"But treating someone badly never made them become a good person."

"Yeah, because letting Chloe have her way all this time has totally made strides in her path to becoming a good person." Alix called out sarcastically.

"If anything, it's made her worse." Max added. "She's gone from simply causing akumas to intentionally becoming one."

“But—”

Alya cut him off. “But nothing, Adrien! You have to have some gall to be trying to get us to make nice with Chloe after she betrayed us all! And here I thought your little lecture to Marinette to make her feel bad for being relieved that Chloe was leaving Paris was pretty hard to beat.”

Nino blanched at that. “You did what?” He turned on Adrien. “Dude! You know that happened after Chloe tried to crash that train!”

“She was just trying to prove herself.” Adrien weakly argued.

“PEOPLE were on there!” Nino bit out. “They could have DIED because Chloe was showing off! And you got on to MARINETTE? Where was this attitude with Chloe?”

“I’ve called her out!”

“Yeah, one time.” Alya groused. “AFTER the rest of us had spent the better part of the day cleaning up after HER mess. Which she never apologized for or admitted to doing, by the way.”

“And in response, she threw a party.” Juleka muttered.

“It was a nice party, sure.” Rose added quickly.

Alya though shook her head. “But being a good hostess is nowhere near the same thing as being a good person. And before the night was over, you rolled over for her and she went RIGHT back to acting as she always had.”

“She made Mylene cry.” Ivan glared. “She made Mylene cry and you just laughed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You said it yourself: ‘she’ll never change’. Except you said that like it was a good thing.”

Marinette looked back and forth between the two, everything inside her screaming at her to help. But she was completely lost on which one she was supposed to help. Because Adrien had a point about what Chloe’s going through but Alya was right about what Chloe did and she needed to do the “right thing” and help Chloe but why did everything Alya say resonate so strongly with her and bring such a feeling of vindication—

No. She was getting distracted. She needed to help. And right now, it was Adrien against the rest of the class.

But Alya was worked up. And Adrien was looking past her to Marinette, eyes begging for help and still so hopeful that she would step in. And Chloe was still in prison and Marinette could fix everything if she just tried so why can’t she try?

“Alya,” Marinette tried. “You told me to give Chloe a chance before after the fire alarm incident, remember? You said we were a lot alike.”

“That was to get you to go to a party!” Alya shouted, making Marinette step back in surprise. “I never meant it like this!”

She stepped forward and took Marinette by the shoulders, holding her sternly.

“Marinette, you are nothing like Chloe! Not where it counts! Yeah, you both can be short sighted when it comes to trying for what you want, but you at least notice and CARE how other people feel! And when you make a mistake, you at least TRY to make it right!”

She shook her head.

“Chloe…doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t try to.” Alix cut in. “If Chloe was feeling sad and lonely, that was pretty much her own fault.”

Adrien looked like he wanted to argue, but Alix didn’t even give him a chance.

“It wasn’t like we left her out. We went well out of our way to try and befriend her. We invited her to things. We tried to help her. Hell, you said it yourself—Marinette has tried to help her more than anybody! And each and every time, Chloe only took what we offered like it was something we owed her but that she was also too good for. I mean, I certainly can’t recall a time she ever thanked me. Can you?” She asked, turning to the other classmates.

All around them, there were murmurs of agreement. Maybe a couple hesitated as they tried to recall a time—one single moment of kindness on Chloe’s part only to come up empty.

“Chloe’s had a hard time.” Adrien insisted. “You know how her parents are—”

“Oh yes, her ‘Daddy the Mayor’.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Like we don’t hear enough about him every time it comes to something Chloe wants. She only threatens us or anyone with him every other day.”

Adrien shook his head and tried to explain. “It’s only because her parents aren’t there for her emotionally.”

“Again, not seeing how this is our problem? Or justification for anything she’s done to us? Or how this excuses her willingly helping a supervillain?”

“Because we’re her classmates!” He argued back, gesturing to all of them. “Out of everyone, we’ve all had the most interactions with her.”

“All of which were negative.” Came a cutting remark, followed by grumbling.

“There were good times, too!” Adrien insisted with a frown. His eyes spanned over the assembled classmates before they came to rest on one in particular. “Kim, you have to have seen Chloe’s good side. You liked her before.”

“Before.” Kim replied, emphasizing the word and the timeframe it referred to. “But being humiliated and her sending out that pic to everyone in school kind of crushed that crush.”

“How did she even have our numbers?” Ivan asked.

“But there had to be something that made you like her in the first place.” Adrien encouraged.

The taller boy shrugged, uncertain and uncaring. “Maybe so, but was it something that was really there? Or something I just wanted to see? Because I’m looking back and quite frankly, I don’t know what past me was thinking.”

“Wow, that’s deep, man.” Nathaniel whispered.

“Thanks!”

Seeing Nathaniel gave Adrien an idea. “Wait, Nathaniel! Didn’t Chloe let you put her in your comic?”

“Forced us to, more like.” The artist bit back. “And even when we tried to fit her, we got nothing but complaints from her. It was no wonder we never got past the initial concept art for her character.”

Adrien winced. “It was an attempt, at least?”

Nathaniel wasn’t buying it. “A poor one.”

“She’s been trying to be better.” Adrien was getting increasingly frustrated. This was not how he was expecting this argument to go. “Rose? What about you? You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

After all, Rose was sweet and caring, always willing to see the good in anyone. Surely she would have something nice about Chloe!

Juleka frowned at him over his focus on her girlfriend and moved to stand beside her. “Don’t push her.”

Still he tried.

“Rose?”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” Rose said, hugging herself. “But Chloe has done nothing but hurt people. And going out of our way to protect her has only ended up biting us.”

That wasn’t true. Not...all the time at least. There had to have been at least one instance where she did the right thing!

Adrien brightened in realization. “Didn’t she catch you when you fell after being deakumatized during Heroes Day?”

The blonde girl frowned. “Well, yes…but she wasn’t very nice about it. Even though I did the same for her before.”

“Rose, come on…”

She shook her head. “I put myself at risk to help Chloe when she was being chased by zombies, and only got turned into one for my efforts. Chloe never appreciated it. She never thanked me. She didn’t even do anything to help when we were trying to keep her safe!”

“We all ended up kissing zombies because of her.” Alix accused, crossing her arms and looking particularly annoyed. “And not just because she caused the akuma in the first place.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Mylene asked. “We’ve been asked. We said no. Isn’t that enough?”

“But—”

“Adrien, you’ve got a good heart.” Ivan started.

“Easy for him when he’s not the one who has to be on the receiving end of Chloe’s tantrums.” Alix cut in, clearly sounding bitter.

“You’ve got a good heart.” Ivan repeated, sending Alix a look that asked her to back off. “But Chloe…doesn’t.”

Adrien shook his head, remaining insistent. “That’s why she needs help.”

“If she needs help,” Mylene spoke, “It should come from her parents. Her teachers. Any of the adults in her life. She has plenty of adults who are fully capable of helping her. It should not be expected to come from the kids she’s spent years tormenting.”

She gestured to herself and the others around her. “And that’s what she’s been doing: tormenting us.”

“To great joy, might I add.” Max droned.

“She hasn’t been cruel to everyone.” Adrien muttered.

That brought out a backlash of outrage.

“She outted my crush!”

“She insulted Mylene’s cooking and made her cry!”

“She got Aurore akumatized and nearly caused Paris to be incinerated in a volcano!”

“She tried to push Mylene out of the lead role of our movie!”

“She locked Juleka in the restroom!”

Wait...

But that hadn’t been Chloe. She had stayed with the class at the time. The one who did do it was...

He glanced around until he saw her—a redhead in the background behind the rest of the class. She looked anxious and uncomfortable, and almost seemed to be trying to edge around the class to get to the stairs.

Adrien did seem aware. Or rather, he was focused on the fact she was there.

“Sabrina? What about you? Chloe was your friend!”

Of course she would help! Because who better than her own best friend to speak on her behalf?

The rest of the class broke into mutters as they realized the same.

But Sabrina...bit her lip and looked away. Refusing to even meet Adrien’s gaze.

“Sabrina?” Marinette tried, concerned about this reaction. Sabrina had been Chloe’s best friend—or at least the closest thing she could have to a friend. “Minion” or “Servant” would be more accurate. “Slave” would be more honest.

The girl had been Chloe’s only real fan and follower, and had assisted Chloe in some of her worst plots.

Marinette had briefly seen another side to her. A girl who was so desperate for friendship that she latched onto even the slightest bit of kindness and went to the greatest of extremes to appease the “friend” so they wouldn’t leave her. It was no wonder she had fallen in with Chloe—someone like that was perfect for the spoiled girl. Compared to her, Marinette’s anxieties and need to please were nothing.

And Chloe had pretty much been her world for years.

What must she be feeling now?

“Should we really be getting her opinion?” Ivan whispered. “You know how she and Chloe were…”

“Well, if anyone would have anything positive to tell the courts about Chloe, it would be her.” Mylene whispered back.

Sabrina took a breath and spoke quickly—almost shouting in her rush.

“I’m sorry but my therapist said I shouldn’t!”

That got a surprise. The rest of the classmates glanced to each other before looking back to the girl. Adrien in particular looked shell-shocked. Marinette couldn’t blame him. She felt the same.

Sabrina for her part seemed to tense up, as if ready to defend herself from the rest of the class.

Marinette stepped forward. “Sabrina? Are…you okay?”

The other girl shook her head, looking close to tears.

“After word got out what Chloe did, the police had to question me about Chloe. They were able to see that I wasn’t involved, but they…didn’t like what I told them about our relationship. Afterwards, my dad decided to have me see a counselor and she…has been telling me things that I hadn’t really considered.” She curled in on herself. “They all think I should stay away from Chloe and anything directly related to her…for my own health.”

Adrien frowned at that. “But don’t you want to help Chloe?”

Sabrina jumped. “Of course, I do!”

“Hold up, Adrien!” Nino stepped in. “She just said police took her in because of Chloe!”

“But they let her go…”

“It still happened!” Mylene argued. “It doesn’t matter how nice they are, how innocent you know you are, or if you’re released in the end, it’s still terrifying when it happens!”

"And it only happened to her because of Chloe." Alya added.

Rose, in her infinite sweetness, reached out to take Sabrina’s hand in support. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Sabrina sobbed and covered her face. Aside from Rose, no one else really attempted to comfort her. Most of them simply watched her, pitying her current state. But they also remembered how complicit she had been in Chloe’s schemes, so they were conflicted. While they did feel bad for her current situation, there was a part of most of them that noted how she had brought it upon herself by being Chloe‘s lackey for so long, so their sympathy was limited.

Perhaps it was out of awkwardness, or maybe an attempt to give some respect for Sabrina’s privacy that the classmates turned away from her and instead focused on the heart of the argument.

“Man...” Nino tried. “Maybe you should let it go?” Though it was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn’t likely.

Because Adrien had still not given up, it seemed.

He looked around between of the classmates, growing more desperate. But those that remained either looked at him straight on as if daring him to call on them or looked away. A few of them even closed ranks as if to block his view of certain others. It was clear none of them were willing to help him on this.

None of them except…

“Marinette.” He called out, drawing her gaze to him instantly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She bit her lip. “I…”

“Back off, Adrien.” Kim said, giving the other boy an angry frown as he stood in front of her to shield her from his gaze. “It’s not on Marinette to help Chloe.”

“Yeah! She suffered more than any of us!“ Ivan shouted.

“She has been Chloe’s main target for years.” Nathaniel agreed. “She is the last person who is obligated to help Chloe now.“

Adrien winced at the harshness of their words and in their tone. “I just thought that Marinette could help. Like before.”

“Just because she could doesn’t mean she should have had to.” Alya countered. “She’s a teenager. Dealing with Chloe should have been the job of adults. Her parents. Bustier. Damocles. Any one of them should have done something—and if they can’t, the courts will. It’s their job. Not ours.”

“And getting her to help you wouldn’t make a difference anyway even if you had convinced us.” Max said, shifting his glasses. “Chloe helped Hawk Moth. There is nothing we could say that could undo that. And even if we did try, we would either be guilty of committing perjury or aiding in a conspiracy.”

“What?” Adrien jerked in surprise.

“The best we can do is be character witnesses.” Mylene explained. “But this is a court and we can’t claim something that isn’t true! We can’t say anything nice about Chloe when she hasn’t done anything nice!”

Max nodded and shifted his glasses. “Furthermore, our testimonies—even if they were positive—would only serve to create a narrative about Chloe and the type of person she is. They can’t explain away the current evidence against her.”

He rubbed the back of his head. He knew there were issues, but he also knew Chloe. He knew what she could be like. He knew she was a good person deep down. “I know she’s made some mistakes—”

“No.” Alya stated sharply. “Calling them ‘Mistakes’ implies that her actions were unintentional. ‘Mistakes’ implies that people were harmed by accident. ‘Mistakes’ implies that she would have any point learned from them. They weren’t mistakes, Adrien. They were willful acts of cruelty every single time.”

Ivan shook his head, pityingly. “We can’t save Chloe from this. We have nothing to say in her defense. The kindest thing we can do for her is stay silent.”

“She’s better than you think she is. She threw that party once for everyone, remember? You all went.” Adrien reminded them.

“That only proved that she could throw a party and be a good host, not that she could be a good person. There is a difference.” Nathaniel pointed out.

“Not that Chloe could tell.“ Alix sniped.

Adrien ignored the barb. He had given up on getting any of them to listen and now only had eyes for her. His last hope.

“Marinette….come on…please.”

She hesitated.

Everything in her that was Ladybug and her crush on Adrien and her desire to make people happy and take the high road and give second-third-fourth chances wanted nothing more than to give it to him.

Except...

There was a long pause. No one spoke.

The other classmates have had their say. They were letting Marinette have hers. And she knew in that moment that if she spoke up…if she did as Adrien wished and tried to help Chloe…she knew they would go along with her. It may be more out of respect for Marinette than it would be out of any sort of forgiveness for anything Chloe had done, but it would still help Chloe and it would still make Adrien happy.

…and hadn’t Marinette already done that enough?

“Did you know?” Marinette started, not looking at anyone. “I would have been well within my rights to press charges against Chloe?”

Adrien balked at that.

“She’s stolen from me at least three times now.” She shrugged. “I mean, sure, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about my diary since she had Sabrina steal it for her, but she did steal my hat design for a competition and I had proof. I could have pressed charges against Chloe and let her face some consequences…but I didn’t.”

She looked up at Adrien. “I also could have pressed charges for what she did to my gift for Madame Bustier. Since she did break into my locker and vandalize my property while it was still technically mine…but I didn’t.

“Adrien.” She spoke almost in monotone, the only sign of her emotions being how she clenched her fists. “Did you know that after the fashion show, my parents and I took a train to get home?”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

“It was the same train Chloe took control of and nearly caused to crash.”

Several gasps resounded around them. Apparently this had not been common knowledge.

“Even if Chloe could have bought her way out of any consequence for the other things, we all could certainly have had her face some major trouble for that one…” Marinette took a shuddering breath. “But we didn’t.”

Adrien frowned. “I…I see that—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cut him off. “Because instead of any of that…rather than hold Chloe accountable at any point, I catered to her. I tried to understand Chloe. I tried to make things nicer for Chloe. I tried to excuse Chloe. Time and again. Just like everyone else. Just like you wanted me to. Just like you’re asking me to now. And what did that get us?”

The more she talked, the more words filled out and she was unable to stop the torrent.

“I defended her from Alya after Madame Bustier was akumatized, and Chloe stole a Miraculous and nearly got my family killed. I helped Chloe bond with her Mom—costing myself any chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity in the process—and Chloe tried to get me banished from Paris just for saying she wasn’t a superhero. I threw Chloe a party to show her some appreciation, and she willingly worked with a supervillain to take over Paris. Just to fuel her ego and because she felt she was owed something that wasn’t hers.”

She tilted her head, considering.

“What is that American saying? Three strikes and you’re out?” Her eyes narrowed. “I have given Chloe more than three chances. I have done nothing BUT give her chances. And clean up after her. And just…try to help her. At no point has she been grateful. At no point did she ever apologize. Or show the slightest bit of remorse for anyone she hurt. Or just…try to do better.”

She stepped forward. Past her classmates. Past Alya, who looked ready to tear into Adrien herself.

“So tell me, Adrien. How much more am I supposed to do? What miracle am I supposed to achieve to help Chloe to be a better person that I haven’t already done?”

“You can just try.” Adrien begged. “Chloe’s alone. She has no one in her corner. You’ve given her chances before! Can’t you find it in your heart to give her another chance this time?”

“Why haven’t you?” Alya demanded.

Adrien drew back in surprise at that.

But the girl wasn’t letting him off. “If you’re so certain Chloe is the victim in all this, then why aren’t you stepping up to help her? Why are you pushing Marinette and the rest of us to do it?”

Alya wrapped an arm around Marinette in support. “If you truly believe Chloe has some sort of inner goodness that only needs the right person to bring it out, then it’s pretty clear Marinette is just not that person. She’s tried enough.”

Alix nodded. “I’m pretty sure she could’ve demolished a brick wall with how many time she’s banged her head against it by this point trying to drag a decent person out of Chloe.”

Others in the class also nodded and gave sounds of agreement to that.

Adrien frowned, lowering his head despondently. “I’m just one person. There’s only so much weight my word will have. I just...I just want to give her the best chance.”

“That’s nice for Chloe, I guess.” Kim muttered. “But not much for us.”

Adrien looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Alya stepped forward, releasing Marinette in the process. “Adrien, why should we as Chloe’s victims have to help protect her? That’s the thing we’re not getting here. WE are the ones she hurt. WE are the ones she betrayed to Hawk Moth. So why are WE supposed to try and save her from her own consequences? Why are you wanting us to?”

Adrien hesitated.

“Can you even imagine what it was like? Being frozen in time. Unable to move or speak? Only able to hear her voice in your head? Feeling your body respond as she’s calling you and being unable to stop?” She clutched her arms, as if trying to hug herself. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was knowing what she was doing to us but being completely unable to stop it? How humiliating it was when she had us bowing to her and calling her our Queen? And then…” She took a breath. “She made us fight our heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir trusted us to help them and we used the Miraculous they entrusted to us to try and kill them.”

“We were just lucky that they were able to turn the tables on us.” Kim muttered. “I don’t even want to know what would have happened if we had won.”

“Luka still has nightmares.” Juleka whispered. “He won’t talk about it, but he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

Marinette winced. She hadn’t even considered that everyone else could be suffering ramifications of Miracle Queen as well.

“We could have killed them.” Max stated. “Given the nature of the Snake Miraculous’s power, we very well could have more than once for all we know.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have killed them?” Rose suggested, trying to be positive. “I mean, Chloe wanted all of the Miraculous, right? She probably wanted them as her servants as well.”

Max glared. “I’m pretty sure I attempted to send Chat Noir into space. Even a Miraculous can’t protect someone from that.”

Adrien tried not to wince at the memory. How he managed to even move enough to activate the Miraculous, he still wasn’t sure.

“We fought against them. We never wanted to, but we did.” Alya bit out. “Not even because of Hawk Moth this time, but because of Chloe. And now you are wanting us to just…overlook the trauma of the whole thing to help Chloe after what she did. For something she hasn’t shown even the slightest remorse for.”

She shook her head.

“I know you’re nice, Adrien. But this level of kindness is a cruelty.”

He winced. And it looked like he wanted to argue. But he just…wilted.

“I just…it feels harsh. What’s happening to her. The amount of hate she’s getting. That her entire life could be over.”

That was true. While they felt her current status was well deserved, it was a harsh sentence for anyone. Especially a teenager.

Nathaniel sighed. “Adrien, it is harsh. Maybe cruel. But fact is that she still brought on herself.”

“Isn’t that just victim-blaming though?” Adrien countered, frustrated now. “I mean, Hawk Moth manipulated her! How was that her fault? He’s the one who did it. She was…” He clenched his fists in anger. “Chloe is a victim.”

“No, we are the victims.” Alya insisted, gesturing to herself and the other revealed former heroes. “We were the ones used to fight our heroes. We were the ones who had our identities revealed to the world against our will. And now we are the ones having to live with the results of Chloe‘s choices, just like we always are.“

Adrien looked ready to argue. And maybe he would have, except...

Nino rested a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Adrien. Dude. Just stop. We have enough to deal with and this…this isn’t helping.”

Adrien frowned at that, concerned by his friend’s attitude. “Nino?”

Nino lowered his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Really, I was trying not to think about it. But my parents are currently talking with police about their options. Now that I’ve been exposed as one of the temporary heroes, they’re questioning if it’s not safe for us at home anymore. There is a chance of us having to go into protective custody.”

Alya winced at that, drawing attention to her. “My parents have been talking as well. My mom quit her job. She said she doesn’t want to work for someone who would let their daughter do such a thing and put me in danger. She’s looking at drawing me out of school since it was pretty much Chloe‘s base of operations. And since Chloe is the Mayor’s daughter…and Hawk Moth…and just…everything?” She looked away, clearly anxious.

“There’s a chance we may have to move out of Paris altogether.”

Marinette gasped.

Alya looked to the other girl, sad and guilty all in one. “I’m sorry, girl. I guess I’ve been hoping it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ve been trying to talk them out of it, but it’s hard given everything that happened. Currently, the only reason they’re willing to stay is to see through to the end of the trial. But after that…” She shrugged, shaking her head uncertainly. “Who can say?”

“No…” Adrien whispered in shock.

The others in class came closer around her, trying to offer some comfort and reassurances—what little they could give, at least. This was a situation that was clearly beyond them. Marinette herself hugged Alya tightly for all she was worth, and the other girl held her back just as much, neither wanting to be parted.

Adrien, however, remained on the outside looking in. Watching the people Chloe had tormented even before Miracle Queen and realizing just how badly they’ve been hurt by this. It hit him then—for what was perhaps the first time just how much pain Chloe had caused his friends. And how unfair he had been to expect them to simply deal with it.

He stayed the lone person outside of the circle. By this point, did he really deserve to join in the comfort? To try to be the one to give comfort? After what he had tried to push on them all?

After minutes passed, they were finally able to draw away from each other.

“I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” Alya told Marinette. “I guess I was just hoping…y’know…that it wasn’t real. Or that it would go away and things would work out on their own.”

Marinette smiled. “No, I understand.”

And she did. That’s exactly what she herself had been doing for the past few weeks as well. Trying to deal with things without really dealing with them. Working without acknowledging just what it all meant because she was scared she would break down and that would be just one more thing Hawk Moth would have won because of this whole mess.

“I was kind of the same way.” She admitted, and it felt like a slight relief to be able to say aloud to someone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you about it.”

She still couldn’t, unfortunately. Not about Ladybug and the kwamis and the Miracle Box.

But…she could talk about Fu. How she lost him. How she feels. She could help support Alya and her classmates and be there for them in the meantime.

She…hadn’t lost everything.

Not yet.

And that was the scary thing…

Adrien gaped at the group. He had thought the trauma was bad enough, and that at least could be worked through. But this...

“I’m sorry. I...I didn’t even realize...”

“Adrien, what Chloe did put a major target on our backs.” Alya explained. “Nobody knows how we became heroes, or that Ladybug was the one to specifically choose us and give us the miraculous to use. Nobody knows WHY we were chosen. It’s not just Hawk Moth, any regular criminal can come after us now in an attempt to get a hold of that power. And we can’t exactly protect ourselves.”

She shrugged helplessly.

“We kind of have enough to worry about with the fallout of Chloe‘s actions. And now you want us to try and protect Chloe on top of that?“

Seeing it now, in this light...it was cruel. It was cruel and unfair and hurtful, and Marinette felt horrible for considering letting herself be talked into it.

Adrien himself felt horrible for even suggesting it.

“We all have to live with the consequences of Chloe’s choices.” Alya stated. “So why shouldn’t she?”

Silence followed. It practically echoed throughout the entire hallway.

He said nothing in response. What could he possibly say? He’d known that Chloe was…difficult with other people, to say the least. He’d known the type of person she was. But she was his friend and friends forgive and support each other, right?

But they were right as well. It wasn’t fair to expect them to help Chloe after what she did. Especially once he knew of the level of harm she’d caused them. He felt the horror trickle in. The trauma everyone felt. The knowledge of what they’d been forced to do. The fact that…

He suddenly found it harder to breathe.

Nino could leave.

Adrien could lose his best friend because of this.

And who knew how many of the others would be forced to leave as well. Aside from Nino; Kim, Max, Alya, and Luka were other heroes as well. Juleka was Luka’s sister. And how many of the other classmates might be pulled out of this class and school because it’s unsafe? And Kagami—oh god, she was outted as well. He hadn’t heard from her in a while. Her mother is probably furious. She could move back to Japan because of this. And Marinette…she had been lucky to not be caught up in that fight since she was a hero only the one time, but that could have been just one more thing Chloe ruined for her…

…what about himself?

He paled.

He was longtime friends with Chloe. Went to school with Chloe. Was in class with Chloe. Chloe, who was currently getting a lot of heat from all of Paris. How was his Father going to react to that? The man was always focused on the company and appearances…what would he do now that Chloe had fallen from grace in such a way? Would he forbid Adrien from talking to Chloe again? Would he pull Adrien from school?

…would he ban Adrien from leaving the house altogether?

How was he only just now considering the impact? For himself or anyone else? Of course people would be hurt. Of course they would be upset. Of course people would respond. Somehow, he knew that, and yet he had only been focused on Chloe that it hadn’t actually hit home until now…

And in that light…

It had been selfish to ask. Honestly, he’d known that when he first tried to approach Marinette. But he felt he had to try. Honestly, part of him had known better than to ask in the first place. But at the same time…there was a part of him that still believed things could just go back to “normal”.

…how foolish. That was a “normal” that nobody else wanted. And even more, it was one that was now impossible…all because of Chloe herself.

“I just wanted to help.”

He deflated, losing all remaining fight.

“I’m sorry.”

The classmates glanced between each other. There was much they could have said, but really, anything they could have said already had been. And with him seeming resigned, it appeared there was no longer a need to defend themselves.

Marinette—ever the mediator, stepped up and hugged Adrien.

“Adrien, this isn’t something you can help with. None of us can. What happens in the trial is up to the courts. And what happens to Chloe is up to her.”

Slowly, he reached up and hugged her as well. The warmth and comfort brought some limited solace in this situation. He felt lost. Out of control. Like the world was moving around him and he didn’t know where he was standing much less where he was supposed to be.

They weren’t ready to forgive Chloe. And he couldn’t force them to be. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t blame them. And it was really unfair of him to try. Especially…

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” He whispered to her.

He had tried to use her. Looking back, he had a bit of a tendency to rely on Marinette to fix things when she shouldn’t have had to. Especially when it was for Chloe’s sake. He knew plenty of times Chloe had done things…but he always seemed to overlook how hurt Marinette was because of it, simply due to how well she always appeared afterwards. She was strong and confident, but also a good listener and willing to forgive. It was like nothing really brought her down.

It was due to this that Marinette was often the one he turned to whenever things happened. Because she would listen. She would understand. And she would always try to help, regardless of her position.

In this light…he may have over relied on her too much.

“I wasn’t fair to you.” He admitted. “I just saw Chloe hurting and only thought about how to fix things for her. I didn’t consider your feelings.” He hugged her more strongly. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t speak. But she squeezed him back.

He felt another body press against him. A quick glance showed it to be Nino.

“I’m still super mad with her. And I don’t like how you tried to push us to defend her after what she did. But I get that she’s your friend and you care about her. I’d do the same if it were you in her place.” He gave a small laugh. “Not that I think you ever would, of course.”

Adrien smiled back. “Thanks.”

This…this felt much better.

Things weren’t okay right now. He still wanted to help Chloe. His classmates were still hurt. People were still angry. Hawk Moth was still out there.

But whatever happened...in this moment, he felt they could make it.

[no--envies]

I've seen people suggest LXC is as guilty as everyone else for WWX's downfall and the murder of the Wen remnants, either because he knew they were just a bunch of weak and old people and didn't care, or because he was too naive and he should have gone to the Burial Mounds to investigate for himself.

With this post I aim to analyse the events leading to WWX's downfall from the point of view of characters who acted in good faith without having all the necessary information. I'm bringing LXC as an example because he's one of the less culpable in the whole matter, but similar considerations could be made about several other characters.

First of all, as far as we know LXC didn't personally take part in the first siege of the Burial Mounds, since the novel states that the Lan Sect was led by LQR.

Back then, during the first siege of Burial Mound, Jin GuangShan led the LanlingJin Sect, while Jiang Cheng led the YunmengJiang Sect; Lan QiRen led the GusuLan Sect, while Nie MingJue led the QingheNie Sect. The former two were the main forces, the latter two could’ve gone without.

(Chapter 68)

The other three main sects were led by their respective leaders, so why was the Lan Sect the only one that was led by someone else? My own interpretation is that LXC wanted to stay with his brother while he was recovering from his injuries and he didn't want to be an active participant in the siege that would kill his brother's beloved, despite personally disapproving of WWX's actions. One could argue that letting LQR lead the Lan Sect in the siege still meant giving his tacit approval, which is not wrong, but what should be considered is that the cultivation world didn't plan a siege against WWX because he had taken a bunch of prisoners of war and sheltered them in the Burial Mounds, but because he had killed hundreds of cultivators at Qiongqi Path and a lot more at Nightless City.

Before WN lost control and killed thirty people at Koi Tower - the time he and WQ had gone to turn themselves in - the situation wasn't so dire for WWX yet. The Wen siblings' sentence was still being discussed by the sects. WN mentions that LWJ spoke up for him and his sister back then (chapter 89), which suggests the Lan Sect as a whole hadn't taken an antagonistic stance against WWX yet. LWJ probably tried to bring what he had seen of the Wen remnants and their peaceful settlement as proof that they hadn't done anything to deserve being sentenced to death.

Unfortunately, after that WN lost control of himself and attacked the cultivators who were present at the discussion, which gave even the Lan and Nie Sects a reason to hold a grudge against WWX, since some of the victims were from their Sects as well.

“The Ghost General really is fierce… Said he was there to give himself in, but then he suddenly flipped out. He slaughtered again, this time in Koi Tower.”

[...]

“Wei Ying, though, he shouldn’t have made him if he can’t control it. Created a mad dog and he didn’t leash it. Sooner or later, he’s gonna be faced with a qi deviation. With the way things have been, I doubt the day is that far away.”

[...]

“How unfortunate for the LanlingJin Sect.”

“Things were even worse for the GusuLan Sect! Over half of the thirty-or-so people were from their sect. They were clearly only there to help calm things down.”

(Chapter 77)

A few of the QingheNie Sect’s disciples died in the hands of Wen Ning as well. Nie MingJue spoke coldly, “What arrogance.”

(Chapter 78)

The text explicitly states that the cultivators from the Lan Sect who were present at Koi Tower were only there to "help calm things down", which means they weren't trying to accuse WWX and the Wen remnants. At the time, the Lan Sect's general stance about WWX appeared to be mostly neutral (the same could be said of the Nie Sect). LWJ's own attitude toward the Burial Mounds settlement could be considered mostly neutral as well, at least until WN and WQ (and then WWX) really needed his help.

An argument I’ve seen brought up often is that, if everyone had known the Wen remnants were just farming and living as ordinary peasants, a lot more people would have chosen to help them. However, the main issue wasn't how they were living in the Burial Mounds (which nobody knew except JC, LWJ and maybe LXC), but their role in the war. Not only were they all cultivators from the Wen Clan, despite being very weak, but WQ was favored by WRH, which made her involvement in her sect's crimes even more likely despite her good reputation. Nobody had heard of her killing anyone, but how could they be sure? Besides, the Lan Sect didn't owe any debt of gratitude to the Wen siblings. The Wen Sect had burned the Cloud Recesses and killed LXC and LWJ's father. NMJ held a personal grudge against the Wen Sect because WRH had killed his father, plus his own black-and-white morality made him judge WQ for not opposing WRH in any way. LXC and NMJ had no reason to go out of their way to help WWX and the Wen remnants, but before the bloodbath of Nightless City they didn't do anything to harm them, either.

We also have to take into consideration the world MDZS is set in; that is, a fantasy version of ancient China where revenge is absolutely justified and is considered an act of justice. Even wiping out entire Sects in revenge isn't necessarily condemned, since JGY did that for the alleged murder of his son and nobody criticized him for it until they learned of all the crimes he had commited and realized those people had most likely been framed by him. Xue Yang was obviously despised by everyone for what he did to the Chang Clan because his revenge was considered exceedingly disproportionate to Chang Cian's offense. Xiao Xingchen illustrates society's point of view on the matter very well when he says cutting Chang Cian's finger or even his entire arm would have been entirely reasonable.

So, as long as it was deemed proportionate to the offense, revenge was justified. Putting all the Wen survivors who had taken part in the war into a labor camp was considered a justified punishment in universe. The sects refused to admit the guards had actually abused the prisoners, suggesting that was going too far, but taking revenge against them by putting them in labor camps was totally accepted. Even WWX - who the novel portrays as morally correct most of the time - doesn’t condemn it. He himself used very cruel and ruthless methods to take revenge against his enemies during the Sunshot Campaign, so it would be kind of hypocritical if he opposed their punishment post-war. He does point out that people consider every Wen cultivator guilty by association just for being part of the Wen Clan, without really caring about the actual crimes they have committed, but he only rescues the cultivators from WN's branch, who he knows didn't take part in the atrocities committed by the Wen Sect.

Murdering the Wen remnants settled in the Burial Mounds was wrong even in universe because they were innocent. They hadn't killed anyone during the war and the Wen siblings' help was absolutely essential for WWX and JC when they were on the run. Without them the Jiang Sect wouldn't even exist anymore. This was a huge deal considering the importance of debts in universe and could have swayed public opinion in their favor. NMJ criticized WQ for not doing anything to actively oppose WRH during the war, but the thing is that she had. She had sheltered the Jiang Sect's heir and head disciple, the same people who contributed to the Sunshot Campaign as one of the main forces.

The problem is that no one knew about this except WWX and JC themselves. JC, who had the authority and credibility to defend what WWX had done in the prison camp, didn't show much conviction the one time he tried to speak up for him, so the other sects probably assumed he was just trying to excuse his right-hand man's inexcusable actions and that WWX had become too corrupted by his demonic cultivation and was too unpredictable and dangerous. When JC went to investigate what WWX was actually doing in the Burial Mounds, he came back saying WWX had defected from the Jiang Sect and was an enemy to the cultivation world (chapter 73), apparently confirming WWX had finally lost it because of all the resentful energies he used and was a potential threat to them all.

However, a really important thing to consider is that the cultivation world waited two years to besiege WWX. They didn't immediately charge to attack him or believe all the rumors about WWX. The sects definitely behaved like sheep, but they weren't that stupid. They knew most of the things that were said were probably exaggerated rumors, so they were just observing the situation and waiting to see what he would do. LXC, NMJ and the other cultivators who weren't in bad faith (those who weren't driven by their greed, ambition, resentment or jealousy) were all part of this general category. They had no reason to doubt JC's words, who was a fellow sect leader and WWX's close friend, and many of them had seen for themselves how threatening WWX had acted during the banquet at Koi Tower, when he said nobody could stop him if he wanted to kill someone, so they had no reason to believe WWX's reputation was being unfairly tarnished.

During the two years WWX spent in the Burial Mounds and nobody really knew what he was up to, a lot of rumors were spread about him. Some people thought he was trying to build an army of fierce corpses with their consciousness awakened like WN; others suggested he wanted to found his own sect of demonic cultivators and even took disciples, like the banners in Yiling seemed to indicate. They considered WWX a potential threat, but not enough to actually take action against him. The fact that LWJ waited months before going to check the situation in the Burial Mounds is very telling. He knew the cultivation world was at a standstill with WWX, so despite being worried for WWX he knew there wasn't any immediate danger for him. He might have been too busy with his own sect matters and going wherever the chaos was, but we've seen how LWJ behaves when he thinks WWX is in grave and immediate danger. The way he acted during the night of the bloodbath of Nightless City shows it very well: LWJ did his best to help as many people as he could, but WWX was his priority.

Of course, having only partial information doesn't excuse the sects for everything. They definitely had their faults regardless of how much they knew. They should have given WWX a chance to explain himself about the ambush at Qiongqi Path and the incident at Koi Tower instead of deciding to besiege him. They didn't even care if he was actually guilty or not of cursing Jin Zixun, or that he was the one who had been ambushed on the way to his nephew's full-month celebration. All that mattered to them was that he had lost control and killed hundreds of cultivators, including the Jin heir. They took this as proof of how dangerous and uncontrollable he was, which wasn't completely unfounded. He was dangerous when he wanted to be and he did lose control. Taking this information without all the context we as an audience are aware of - that he was only trying to repay a debt and didn't want to harm anyone, that Jin Zixun provoked him so much it was almost inevitable for him to lose control - doesn't look good at all.

Again, the sects did behave like sheep. The novel portrays WWX as the hero and his decision to rescue the Wen remnants as morally correct. Most of the cultivators who contributed to WWX's downfall were a bunch of hypocrites who couldn't see past their own self-righteousness. But characters like NMJ and LQR are portrayed as generally righteous people, so the fact that they took part in the siege proves not everyone was in bad faith. Nobody really knew why WWX had rescued the Wen remnants and his reasons for wanting to protect them, or why he had invented demonic cultivation in the first place. They just knew he did very questionable things like digging up graves during the war, that he acted arrogantly all the time and even started killing their own people. We as an audience know why he did all these things, but they didn't.

Also, after the bloodbath of Nightless City it was objectively hard to defend WWX's actions. He wasn't clear-headed at all that night and when he activated the Tiger Seal he was already in a half-unconscious state. His overall situation was too much for anyone to be able to stand it, but this doesn't mean what he did was right. The fact that he destroyed the Tiger Seal after returning to the Burial Mounds suggests not even he was proud of all the people he killed that night. WWX isn't infallible and makes mistakes because he's human like anyone else, despite being an overall heroic and selfless person. Even LWJ, who was the only one that still trusted WWX's heart and morals, couldn't really justify what he did at Nightless City. He only told LXC that no matter right or wrong, he was willing to face all the consequences with WWX anyway (chapter 99), because he understood his true nature and knew his outlook and values were the same as his own. But most people didn't know him as well as LWJ did. From the sects’ point of view, the bloodbath of Nightless City was the ultimate proof that WWX was the scourge of the cultivation world.

I'm not trying to say LXC is perfect or that he couldn't have done more, but we should take his own point of view into consideration when we judge his actions (or non-actions). LWJ didn't do much more than him during WWX's first life and what he did ultimately wasn't enough to save WWX (I don’t think it’s his fault, he was in an objectively difficult position), but the fandom doesn’t criticize him as much as they do with LXC, because after WWX came back LWJ's support for him was flawless. But LXC wasn't in love with WWX. He hadn't observed him since he was a teenager like LWJ had done because of his huge crush on him. We shouldn't underestimate the importance of debts in universe and how information in general can affect people's perceptions. Even LWJ stayed mostly still during WWX’s first life because he didn't have all the information and didn't know why WWX had left the bright broad road to start cultivating with resentful energies.

WWX is the protagonist, the hero of the story and the character whose point of view most of the novel is narrated from, so it's easy for the audience to empathize with him and understand his perspective. It's really interesting that even WWX has a good opinion of LXC and NMJ (and mostly respects LQR) despite their role in his downfall. It's not just because of his forgiving nature, since we see him criticize the hypocrisy of the sects a lot of times, but because he recognizes they were in good faith and they had their reasons for behaving like they did, despite the mistakes they might have made.

[bbnibini]

Oh, Brother! (Lucifer ft. Baby Beel)

Summary:  Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. (based on a headcanon request on our old AO3 request box)

Accompanying HC for this fic can be read here. This was originally a request. The old version is poorly formatted so I decided to repost this now that I am sliiiightly better at using tumblr. Anyway, enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances. You may also say that it is my inclination to exhibit such behaviour because of my personality. But while I make long-winded introductions that segues even further from the point I was making, let me, as my brothers say, "cut to the chase":

I have no idea what in Devildom is going on. Sets of eyes looked at me expectantly, and I did as I usually do when I am dragooned into unforeseen…problems. 

"I see." I don't. But a white lie is what is required to quell the squall of chaos right now: debris of what looked like Leviathan's furnishings were strewn on the wet floor. Looking up from the living room where remnants of the ceiling were barely keeping itself intact, Henry freefell into my arms, a timely catch away from his imminent death. I turned to my pale brother, asking "Lotan?" in the calmest tone I can muster, and was only answered in more silence. I offered him Henry, which he took still looking down, and turned to problem #2. 

"MC, may I have him?" 

"I…" 

I stopped and talked over them. "I'm not angry. Let me hold Beel."

"It's all my fault!" 

Sigh. Why do they always do this? A surge of pain was felt on my temples, but I pretended not to feel it. "Why don't you help Levi clean up his room? Do you even know how to take care of a non-human child?" 

"No, but!" they argued again. I listened. "You're not going to punish Mammon, aren't you?" 

Punish is such a heavy word. I noticed how protective they were of my brother, almost to an extent where I feel like they perceive me in an unfavourable light. They were more carefree with them, but all yes and no's with me in comparison. I wouldn't say I'm envious. Rather, I'm baffled. Occasional pranks became the highlight (read: tragedy) of my day, often while I was poring over documents and settling political disputes on behalf of Diavolo. Partnered with Mammon and Satan, they were a force to be reckoned with; one I remembered being visibly annoyed by for interfering with my work. No one shall ever know that I might…have looked forward to those times. It was a puzzle to be pieced, an idle form of entertainment to guess which kind of tomfoolery they would attempt at me that they were foolish enough to think they would succeed in. Unfortunately, any victory they may have celebrated in the past were my fabrications that only the likes of someone as observant as Satan would notice. 

"Procure a change of clothing and go while I'm still being merciful." I saw them share the same pallour as Leviathan, dragging him along while mouthing complaints under their breath. A curse perhaps, not bound by magic but of something else, directed at me, their usual villain. Such childishness that I let slide, as I was accustomed to being an enemy, especially when I know I was right. 

Beel is finally in my arms, a docile child as cherubic as the little Beel in my memories. The pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together as I look around. 

"Belphegor, wake up this instant! You're sleeping on a wet floor." You'll catch a cold, I almost felt myself saying but was able to hold myself back. "Unless you would rather be carried like the old days? I don't mind." 

"Fine, fine. I'm up." They stretched out their arms to retrieve their twin and I shook my head. "I wouldn't leave such a delicate child to someone who couldn't even coordinate themselves properly. Go to sleep, Belphegor.

.

.

.

...and Satan, if you have the time for hexes, you would also have the time to clean up this mess."

"Tsk."

"I would see all of you in my office once this is all fixed.

. 

.

.

.

Not a spot should be left unattended. Understood?" 

"Yes, Lucifer."

I don't have time for this. So many documents are left unsigned on my desk. A meeting with the Chancellor, a hearing from the House of Commons, a response to Michael's ridiculous letter…

"Wuchy, angy?"

Beelzebub's upturned eyes looked at me adorably.

"Wuchy…" I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw most of them are either absent or pre-occupied. Clearing my throat, I noticed my voice was shriller than usual. "Wuchy…" I repeated and sat Beel on the plush sofa. "Wuchy is NOT angy…"

"Bee hangu" he pulled at my sleeve, turning my attention to his rumbling stomach. "Wuchy…Bee hangu."

I nodded. "I see. Does Bee want to eat?" 

"Peas!" 

"You want to eat peas?" 

"No! Bee Hangu! Peas!" 

"Ah, " I nodded again as I finally understood. "I apologise, Bee. You're trying to say please?" 

I couldn't help but smile back when he did so in reply. 

To my disappointment however, even the kitchen was destroyed, to the point that MC didn't want me to enter. It was admirable, I suppose that they were able to explain the situation to me while everything was still in a state of chaos. 

It all started with a hexes assignment that failed miserably, turning Beel into an inconsolable toddler that caused Levi's room to be absolutely destroyed. Since nobody was capable of understanding Beel's speech, his childish tantrums got worse and caused the House of Lamentation to be in its current state. The only reason the situation subsided a bit was because of Belphie's interference. Where was Belphie in the first place? Was my question, and MC's shrug affirmed that he ignored my warning about sleeping in on the weekend. Again. I sighed. 

"Sorry, Lucifer. Why don't you eat out with Beel for a while?" 

"Bee hangu! Now!" 

"....Bee, that's my glove."

"Bee?" (MC) 

!!!!

"Beelzebub." I cleared my throat. "I shall heed your advice before Beel throws a bigger tantrum."

"Wuchy, hangu!" 

"Yes, yes. Wuchy…heard you. MC, take care of the house while we're gone."

There was a ghost of a smile on their face, one they must have tried to hide from me earlier. "Yes," They snorted, and I silently warned them to open their mouth again.  "Wuchy."

Ah. They still have the audacity to mock me. Me. Who was trying to turn a blind eye? Giving them a chance to fix their mess before anyone else finds out? I smirked back. 

"If the house falls down…or if it gets destroyed any further…prepare to face your punishment . Alone."

Their silence was enough of a penitence…for now. Beel's stomach growled louder and louder each passing second, and my gloves are currently soiled with bite marks everywhere. 

I bent down to meet Beel at eye level and pried my hands away from his nibbling. "What do you want to eat?" 

His eyes sparkled at the question, and he started chanting something in gibberish that I pretended to understand. "Wook wook! Bee fawwit!" 

Wook? 

He...never said that before. Or did he? I decided to carry him in my arms once I noticed he was having difficulty keeping up with my strides. He shook his head several times as we passed every food stall and kiosk in the shopping district, contenting himself with chewing on the gloves I thought I had confiscated already. 

It had been so long that I almost forgot that Beel was once a picky eater when he was little. Michael marveled on his "refined palate", telling me I should cherish my brother's talent (and consider giving Beel to him once he got older to train under his tutelage) but I vehemently refused. I was busy enough as a high-ranking angel and barely had the time to see my siblings, and the last thing I ever wanted was to part from them. I understood the difficulties of having an absent parent all too well, and I did not wish for my brothers to experience the same longing I had when I was the same age as them. 

Beel was as docile and as sweet as I remembered him long ago, smiling and laughing in my arms, calling me Wuchy over and over, and seeking for his twin in adorable babbles of "Bewphie" and "Bwanky", which I responded in my usual way:

"Bewphie, sleep." 

"Seepu?" 

"Yes." I answered, prying away my damaged gloves from his mouth. "Bewphie told me you should eat so you won't wake him up." I pointed at his rumbling stomach, and little Beel automatically held it and felt the rumbling coming from it. 

"Bee…wouwd (loud)?"

"Mhm. Bewphie can't sleep unless you eat something."

He must not have been able to distinguish his twin because of his current form, seeking perhaps a smaller counterpart of his brother just like the old days. After some more meandering around stalls, feeling full over the meals that Beel refused to eat, I racked my brain to figuring out the meaning behind his childish babble:

What on earth does wook mean? 

I have never heard him say it before even in the Celestial Realm, nor did I ever recall teaching him the words. 

"Wook! Wook!" Beel said excitedly again, grabbing my hair in his elation to turn to a man flipping Bat Wing pancakes in a stall. The line was atrocious, barely moving, arid and noisy. 

"Does Bee want to eat that?" 

I sighed in relief when he shook his head. "Wuchy, Wook! Wook Bee fawwit!" 

Wait a moment. Does wook mean…

"Do you want me to look?" But look at what? At the elderly demon flipping pancakes? Beel shook his head again, seemingly lost at how to translate his thoughts and feelings into his limited toddler vocabulary. 

"Wook...wook fuu fo Bee…" he squinted his googly eyes at me and made exaggerated hand gestures. "Wuchy….wook fuu fo Bee! Bee fawwit!" 

The proverbial cogs in my brain started to turn as I came across an epiphany. Before I knew it, I was already holding my DDD. 

It pains me to do this, but I cannot let Diavolo know. 

"Hello, Simeon?" 

Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. It was evident with Simeon's jovial expressions as he opened the door. 

"It really is a baby! Can I hold him?" 

Simeon's smile never disappeared, rather, his eyes narrowed as he turned to me to speak. "Luke is good with kids. He volunteers taking care of cherubs in Heaven."

"Mhm! I have Raphael's seal of approval!" 

Sighing, I surrendered my brother to Luke, my traitorous brother who did not even cry or protest when a complete…stranger is now holding him in his arms. 

"Meemwon!" 

"Oh! I haven't heard that in ages! This sure brings back memories!~" Simeon planted a kiss on Beel's cheek and I couldn't help but frown. "Hello, Bee! It's big bro Meemwon!" Beel giggled in reply as Simeon planted smaller kisses at him, clearly enjoying the attention. 

"You're getting into this, way too much don't you think so?"

"He's adorable!" Simeon reasoned. "But, isn't his stomach growling?" 

"That's why we're here." I tried to maintain an aura of composure. "I need to borrow your kitchen. Is Solomon around?" 

Simeon's eyes widened for a bit in understanding…then I heard manic laughter. Is this really how he should conduct himself in front of the children? I kept that opinion to myself and didn't say a word. "No, he isn't. Don't worry." He looked at me again and smiled reassuringly. "Feel free to use the kitchen. We'll take care of Beel~" 

"Solomon--"

"...won't feed Beel anything even if he does come back. Just go before he throws another tantrum!" Simeon shooed me away from the living room, pushing my back to Purgatory Hall's fully furnished kitchen. It certainly had better equipment compared to Lamentation, which I can only attribute to Michael's influence. 

Cooking was one thing, but feeding Beel another. He continued rejecting meal after meal after meal of my best dishes. His stomach only growled louder, and his mood became irritable even with Simeon's and Luke's aid. The ingredients I have purchased were almost gone, left only with a half-used bag of flour, milk and eggs. 

"The best I can do with these are pancakes…

. 

. 

. 

. 

Pancakes?" 

A memory flashed in my mind, taking me back to the Celestial Realm and our former residence there. Assuring the house help that I wanted to try cooking for my brothers for a change, I begrudgingly followed the recipe book Michael had given me and started with its easiest dish. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

I attributed my failed attempts to Michael's unique, archaic wordings in his cook book and tried again. And again. And again. Numerous ruined frying pans and ingredients later, I was left with a shabby excuse of a pancake---charred at the sides, eggshells at the other. I waved my white flag in surrender and called for a food delivery instead, deflated. Some Morning Star I was. It was an hour before dinner and my siblings were peeking at the kitchen with their blinking, doe eyes.

"Wuchy...huwt?" Lilith looked up to me, looking like she was about to cry and I took her in my arms to comfort her. 

"Lucy…" I corrected myself. "Wuchy isn't hurt. Just tired."

"Seepu?" Belphegor offered me his cow pillow and I shook my head. "Later after we eat."

"Fuu?!" I managed to catch Beelzebub with my free hand before he faceplanted on the floor as he rushed to me in excitement. 

"I'm sorry, Bee. As you can see, Wuchy doesn't have anything edible he can feed you." I carried him in my free arm and showed him my culinary failures. 

"Wuchy…fuu." Beel pouted at me. "Wuchy, whie. Fuu deww! (Lucy lied. There's food over there!)" He tugged my hair and glared. "Bee, eat!" 

"Eat!" Lilith mimicked. 

"Bewphie, eat?" Belphegor followed. 

"No, children. As you can see-- Mammon, wash your hands first!--" 

I couldn't believe my eyes. 

Everyone was gathered at the table, eating my failures with smiles on their faces. Beel, who had been sitting next to me this whole time tugged me on the sleeve to ask for seconds. "Dis...Bee fawitt! Cwunch!"

"It must be the eggshells."

"Mhm! Wuv it! Wuchy?" 

I felt him wrap his arms around my side. With a wide grin, he said. "I wuv you!" 

Only to be followed by a barrage of hugs from the others, talking over each other as they gathered around me with their syrup-stained faces.

"Asmo wuvs Wuchy disssss much!" 

"Bewphie...wuv!"

"Wiwi, wuv Wuchy moww! (Lilith loves Lucy more!)" 

"I guess you're okay…but the Great Me is better!" 

"...Levi l-loves Lucy too…"

I couldn't remember much of what happened afterwards, but I do recall telling the delivery man that he can have my order for himself. After that, I strived to become better at cooking so I can serve my siblings better meals.

.

.

. 

Anyone would strive to try harder if they are ever subjected to that much smothering, I suppose. Still, I do think that after that, Beel began to eat everything happily, much to Michael's dismay.

"This looks horrifying." The plating of the pancake itself was one or two burns shy of Solomon's best attempts at cooking…I could not believe that out of every dish there is in this world, this horrible disaster is my brother's favourite food. I never really asked him about it. Perhaps I have forgotten and he happily ate everything I cooked because he had no choice. Still, it was no time to mull over such nonsense, especially if Beel's stomach is now resembling Cerberus' growls. 

"Wook!" Beel's eyes sparkled as I placed the cooled pancakes down at the table, munching on the sweet treat happily despite the…eggshells. I tried my best to emulate my failed attempts from before, and judging from the elated look on Beel's face, I must have gotten his approval. 

"Is that--" (Simeon) 

"Don't ask." I shut him up before he could even speak a word. "And please don't ever say this to Michael. I wouldn't hear the end of it."

Simeon smiled impishly in reply. "Would you cook here again--" 

"No.

.

.

.

.

.

But I suppose I owe you some hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies for letting me use your kitchen."

"Anytime~" 

"I was talking to the chihuahua, not you."

"I'm not a chihuahua!" 

Beel was sleeping peacefully in my arms on the way home. While still baffled at a startling discovery about Beelzebub, I hadn't much time to think about it as I was covered in confetti the moment I opened the door. 

"Happy birthday, Lucifer!" (MC) 

"Simeon took too much time! The ice cream's meltin'!" 

"Lolololol I told you he forgot his own birthday! Beel was the perfect distraction!" 

What. On. Earth. Is going on? 

"Sorry, Lucifer!" MC bowed her head and looked up to me, looking apologetic. "We were trying to throw you a surprise party but…things got…well...wrong. But, everything's okay now!" They pulled me inside and showed me the feast they have prepared for me. 

It was a smorgasbord of my favourites. From the appetisers to the desserts and wines, I recalled some of these dishes as my specialties. Satan's familiar handwriting was drawn over a buttercream cake with my name on it, along with a small drawing of me in a party hat along with everyone else. Everyone else was seated at the dining table including Diavolo and Barbatos, both of which I was trying to avoid the entire day. 

Were they involved in this ridiculous plan as well? 

MC seemed to read my mind and nodded at me shyly. "I did mess up with my homework, that much is true, but Solomon helped in undoing the spell! He was the one who suggested to turn Beel back into a toddler so we have enough time to prepare for everything!" 

Solomon waved a hand at me and smiled. "They still didn't let me cook anything though☆"

"So all of the chaos…"

"...is us cleaning up our first attempts of party preparations." Satan begrudgingly replied. "Until of course, you came back earlier than expected."

"Now, now~" Asmo interjected. "What's important is that he's here and Beel's spell is about to wear off!♡ Now, Lucifer dear, why don't you join us and blow your candles?" 

I have completely forgotten about my birthday.

I didn't see the point of celebrating it anymore, I suppose. Thousands of years of repetitions can bring ennui upon you. However, things have changed. 

The House of Lamentation had a warmer atmosphere thanks to MC, and everyone was closer than ever before. The loss of a family and an inclusion of a new one opened up our hearts enough to heal and perhaps forgive ourselves a little for the years we have ignored its value. 

Who knew such a fleeting human could be the catalyst of such unimaginable developments? 

"Oh! Beel's back!" 

"Yay~! Your seat's over there, Beel!" 

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances.

However…nothing can ever prepare me for this moment. 

"Lucifer?" 

I turned to Beelzebub, now back to his normal form and he offered me a smile. "The pancake you cooked was really good. Can you make it again for me next time?" 

I smiled back. 

"With or without the eggshells?" 

[silverflame2724]

Have you ever how MDZS would've turned out if either JYL was also a demonic cultivator?

For this to make sense, I would like to say that I’m under the impression that resentful energy suppresses, not heals, wounds so taking it away would open all wounds up. 

Now then, because of how this question is formatted, I have three different takes:

If JYL was a demonic cultivator alongside WWX but had her core:

So, in this scenario, JYL might have wanted to help during the war but her core wasn’t strong enough to support her. She saw how helpful WWX’s demonic cultivation was but also how it had hurt him and wanted to take some of the burden off of him. 

So WWX tries to refine it for her in a way that won’t harm her core. JYL, of course, notices how different the method WWX taught her was in comparison to what he was doing. She also noticed that WWX did not code any of his notes and had heard the whispers of those jealous of his power. So she made him code his notes into something that only JC, her, and WWX would know how to read. She helps with the war effort and calms WWX when the resentful energy gets too much. 

JYL realizes how irritated she is getting and gets LWJ or some Lan to help play for her after every battle she uses resentful energy in. And then she gets confused. Why does WWX not do the same thing? Something must be up. She confronts WWX who avoids the question like there’s no tomorrow. Of course, JYL stares him down for a few days and then WWX finally gives. He tells her to keep it a secret that he has no core and that the resentful energy is the only thing keeping his body together. JYL is extremely protective™, afterwards and keeps her promise to say nothing to anyone. 

LWJ’s “come back to gusu” now sounds like a threat whereas before she thought it was worry. She tells LWJ to stop/what his intentions are because she knows that LWJ helped search for WWX desperately for 3 months. LWJ struggles for words and she understands how difficult voicing out your true feelings is as she has dealt with WWX and JC. She waits patiently until LWJ says something along the lines of “I am worried about him” or “I want to protect him.” So JYL asks if that isn’t what WWX wants, will he still continue this. LWJ says a hesitant “no.”

JYL then drags - maybe in a more polite way - LWJ over and says to WWX, “this one wants to protect you,” and LWJ nods, embarrassed. WWX is confused. 

The war continues and then ends and while JYL stops demonic cultivation, she understands that WWX can’t and also understands the Seal cannot be destroyed without WWX dying. So when JGS asks about the Seal, with JC’s explicit permission, JYL says that they’ll destroy it but not now. WWX is nervous about that because he needs to protect the Jiang sect. JYL calmly talks him out of it and says he can still use demonic cultivation with her to protect the sect; he’s not alone. 

WWX agrees and manages to come up with something (with LWJ’s help) to destroy the seal, which he does, later, in public. Afterwards, the Wen thing happens but WWX decides to talk it out with JYL who decides that the better course of action is to talk to a drunken Jin Zixun and find out the location of the Wen Remnants. After which, JYL tells WWX to go at night with LWJ to free the Wens and take them to a secure location in Yunmeng. WWX is skeptical about letting LWJ come along but JYL says “you need someone you trust to help you get there faster, right?” So WWX reluctantly agrees and LWJ nods along and helps WWX to get to Qiongqi Path and leads the Wens away secretly to the safehouse that JYL pointed out. After the banquet, JYL helps get clothes so that the Wens aren’t recognized and slowly integrates them into the town nearby.

Afterwards, JYL pushes WWX together with LWJ after several long painful months of them skirting around each other before focusing on her own relationship where Jin Zixuan is trying his damn hardest to court her. JGS is still a creep and a power-hungry bastard though and Jin Guangyao still wants to please his father. JYL is not stupid and while she is distracted by how cute Jin Zixuan is, she can recognize the greed at which JGS stares at her. She doesn’t do anything though, even if JGS has been subtly (not so subtly) implying to share demonic cultivation techniques. There isn’t much she could do until a strange attack leaves JGS near-death. JYL had nothing to do with it, of course. Nothing at all. JGS had stolen some of her A’ Xian’s talismans that attracted evil, so he only had himself to blame. No one saw those talismans though since they had burned to a crisp, so all’s well that ends well!

If JYL lost her core and became a demonic cultivator with WWX:

In this scenario, JYL lost her core because WZL got her too somehow. WWX would still try to find a way to lessen the effects even if it wouldn’t be too effective. JYL still realizes something’s up and feels herself getting more irritated but when she tells WWX about getting a Lan to lessen the effects, WWX panics and says no! JYL then asks why and WWX will have to tell her because removing the resentful energy will kill them. And then JYL is like “us?” and WWX realized what he just said. So now JYL knows he’s without a core but she also knows that WWX wasn’t caught by WZL like she and JC were and demands answers. Which WWX is veryy, very reluctant to give. But he does so anyway.

JYL hugs her brother and says that they’ll figure something out. WWX cries too and nods. LWJ still tries to help WWX but JYL, under the same ill effects of resentful energy, finds it more difficult to find the worry in LWJ’s words. But nevertheless asks him what his deal is. LWJ is unable to formate words and JYL’s temper is cut short so she yells “you’re planning on punishing my brother, right?” because she remembers Gusu Lan rules as well. LWJ is like, “no.” But he finds it difficult to speak and says, “not punishment”. JYL feels how the resentful energy is getting to her but tries to calm down. LWJ wants to help WWX and JYL very calmly says, “if you try to purify the resentful energy, you’ll kill us, understand?” LWJ then panics because he did not know that, sees WWX, apologizes and says he’d like to help.

WWX is very stubborn about not needing help but JYL is not and accepts on their behalf because they do need the help. The war continues and both JYL and WWX try to help as much as they can but the resentful energy is bad and even worse for WWX who’s using the Seal. Luckily, the war ends.

But both JYL and WWX are in horrible shape and JC is very worried and very mad (at WWX, for teaching her, and at JYL, for pushing herself). LWJ manages to use his music in a way that doesn’t harm them, though, so they’re both fine but JGS is still a horrible person who wants JYL to marry Jin Zixuan and well, JYL is a woman. She has to get married. But she can see the greed in JGS’s eyes and decides that no matter how much she likes Jin Zixuan, it wouldn’t be good to go to the Jins. Not until JGS is dead, of course.

Normally, she wouldn’t be so prone to murder but resentful energy does wonders in that regard. She gets rid of JGS in a way that wouldn’t make any blame fall onto her or WWX. With the threat out of the way, she allows a relationship with Jin Zixuan and helps WWX get together with LWJ. The Seal still gets destroyed somewhere along the line.

If JYL was the only demonic cultivator:

In this scenario, JYL found out about the golden core transfer and offered hers instead because WWX is an asset and it wouldn’t make a difference if she had no core or not. She’s thrown into Burial Mounds but survives because of her love for siblings or something like that. Also, because WWX always told her of his crazy idea which included the resentful energy manipulation. WWX would still try to help lessen the effects but not much can be done unless he goes on the path too, which he does because he’s not letting his sister do this alone. It’s more difficult for him though cause he has to be wary of not corrupting his core which he is able to do with help from LWJ. 

JYL cannot handle the resentful energy very well and it shows. WWX tries to help but it doesn’t go very well. He still creates the Seal which lessens the burden on JYL’s shoulders but still doesn’t lessen the effect of resentful energy on her. At the end of the war, she’s at the end of her line and she’s very close to death. LWJ offers purification to help and WWX refuses. He understands her situation and it will kill her to remove the resentful energy. JC blames WWX for JYL’s condition and WWX is so guilty, he throws himself into finding a solution, uncaring of his health. He’s eventually able to refine demonic cultivation to a manageable point and JYL wakes up not long later. He gives her his notes and she follows the instructions, finding herself not to be so irritable anymore.

Despite all this, JYL is still a woman and now even more desirable because of demonic cultivation. JGS will do anything to let her come into the family so that he can learn about her cultivation. JYL has a very short temper now though. And Jin Zixuan’s attempts at courting aren’t making her heart skip a beat. Then Wen Qing comes along, but it’s WWX who finds her, so he’s able to get to Koi Tower, trick (read: threaten) Jin Zixun into spilling the location, brings LWJ and NMJ along (because he doesn’t want to offend anyone with how fragile the Jiang sect is) and they free the Wens. 

Seal is somehow destroyed, WangXian gets together, but Jin Zixuan and JYL’s relationship takes a loooong while to bud, if at all.

_________

Phew. This took a while to write.

[skylights2000]

Blush (Kazuichi x Fem! Reader) Part 1

This is my first story with a Female Reader, but if you guys don’t like it that way, I can rework it to make the reader Genderneutral. Let me know what you think 💜

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Kazuichi had only agreed to this stupid ritual because Sonia asked him, and Miu said she’d drag him here herself if he didn’t show up.

He’d gone through the motions, trying his best not to panic, but that all went out the window when the lights above their heads burst, showering, Miu, Sonia, Gundham, and him with sparks.

He stood there, frozen in horror, as smoke swirled from the center of the salt circle they’d made. A figure slowly appeared as the mist began to vanish. The lights flickered back on, and standing in the middle of the circle was what appeared to be a woman.

She was wearing a dark purple t-shirt and black jeans. She would look like a regular person if it weren’t for the dark spirals that curled up her arms, and the pair of curled, dark purple horns that protruded from her head.

She looked around the room before her eyes settled on him. She moved silently and at a speed his eyes couldn’t keep up with. In a heartbeat, she was standing at the edge of the salt circle, her dark purple eyes boring into his.

He jumped, stumbling backwards. She held out her hand, frowning when her hand met the barrier created by the salt circle.

“Mm, that’s unfortunate.” Her voice was soft, slightly deeper than most women he’d met.

She hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and turned to face Sonia and Gundham. “You called?”Gundham nodded calmly. “We wish for you to imbue this mechanical being with a living soul.”

She moved back to the center of the circle where Kiibo laid. She crouched down beside him, inspecting it quietly.

“No.”

“What?!” Miu screeched. “You have to! Please!”

She turned to Miu with an exasperated frown. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t.”

“How is that possible? Your power is quite immense from what I can tell.” Gundham asked curiously.

“Even with my power, giving this robot a living spirit would take too much of my energy. I’d be completely immobilized. If I went back to my world in that condition” She scowled darkly. “I’d be ripped to shreds.”

“Then stay here until you’re strong enough to go back!” Miu countered fiercely.

The demon ran a hand through her hair, frustration written across her face. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?!”

“I’m a demon. My energy doesn’t replenish on its own. I gain energy from others through physical touch.” She explained.

“Then touch one of us!”

“No!” She snapped, finally losing her cool. “Taking that much energy from a human at one time would kill them!”

Miu finally went silent as she processed the words. “Then can’t you take someone’s energy a little at a time?”

“I can in theory, but it’s hard to find a human that’s willing to agree to something like that.”

“Take Kazuichi!” Miu offered, ignoring Kazuichi’s sputtered protests.

The demon glanced at him, a ghost of a smile dancing at the corners of her lips. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think you should be volunteering your friend without asking him.”

Every head turned to Kazuichi, and he instantly stiffened under their gazes.

“I..” He looked at Kiibo, the metal robot that he and Miu had painstakingly made by hand. They’d spent months building and improving the robot until it nearly looked like a real person. He glanced to Miu, who was watching him with a painfully hopeful expression.

He swallowed thickly, squared his shoulders, and locked eyes with the demon woman. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded stiffly, trying to hide how nervous he actually was. She shot him one last doubtful look before shrugging and turning away from him. He watched in shock as her fingers grew into long, black claws. Just as she was about to dig them into the ground, Sonia spoke up quickly. “Wait!”

The demon paused, head raising to look at Sonia from where she stood. “Yeah?”

“You can’t carve anything on the ground. We don’t own this building.” Sonia explained.

The demon glanced around the room before nodding. “Take me somewhere where I can.”

She leaned forward and picked Kiibo up as if he weighed nothing. It had taken both Kazuichi and Gundham to move Kiibo the few feet to get him in the circle, but she carried him with ease. She stood at the edge of the salt circle, and Sonia kicked some away to make a path for her.

The demon woman nodded gratefully and moved to stand beside Sonia. “Lead the way.”

Gundham led them outside the building and into a grassy area outside. “Put it here.”

She laid Kiibo in the spot Gundham was pointing to and told them to back up. She used her claws to draw a large circle around Kiibo, carving several strange symbols inside as she went.

When she was done, she crouched down next to Kiibo and took one of his smooth, metal hands. The symbols she carved began to glow, softly at first but rising until the light lit up the area around them. He could hear her talking, her voice carried by the wind that swirled around them, whipping his hair into his face. The words were different, spoken confidently in a language he didn’t understand. Her body began to shift, the spirals on her arms began to curl all the way up her neck, framing her face and branching across her cheeks. A pair of large, dark wings protruded from her back, shielding their eyes from the blinding explosion of purple light that followed. The light slowly began to fade until all that was left was a soft glow coming from Kiibo’s chest. Once it faded, Miu rushed forward, cradling Kiibo’s head in her lap.

The demon girl shifted to sit on the ground, using one arm to hold herself up while the other was clenched in the center of her chest. “..He’ll wake up..tomorrow..” She choked out, each word strained and laced with pain.

“Are you okay?” Sonia asked worriedly as she crouched down beside the horned woman.

She nodded stiffly. “Just..took more than..I thought it would..” She glanced back at Miu. “You need..to take him..inside..” At the curious looks she received, she clarified. “A storm..is coming..”

“You can sense the shifting of the weather patterns.” Gundham spoke up, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“Whatever, just help me with this, man.” Kazuichi said.

He and Gundham worked together to carry Kiibo back into the garage while Miu and Sonia worked together to cover the markings in the dirt before returning to her side.

The demon had clambered to her feet, swaying dangerously when she moved. Sonia and Miu rushed forward to catch her, supporting as much of her weight as they could. She was taller than both of them, so it was a bit difficult, but they managed to help her into the building.

By the time they got inside, her wings had vanished and the spirals on her skin had receded back to their original place. They helped her over to a bench nearby, and she sat down, leaning her head against the wall.

Miu glanced over at Kiibo and smiled softly. “Thank you.”

She laughed breathily. “You better enjoy that damn robot. Nearly killed myself for it.”

Miu grinned at her excitedly. “Hell yeah, I’ll enjoy it!” As if to prove her point, she ran over to the robot man and began excitedly tinkering with several things to get him plugged in. She assumed it was so that he could charge.

“Oh my, how rude of me!” The demon glanced at Sonia when she spoke. “My name is Sonia Nevermind.” Sonia held out her hand happily, and when the demon woman hesitated, Sonia took her hand instead. “What’s your name?”

“...Call me (Y/n). That was my human name.”

“You have another name?”

The demon, (Y/n), nodded but didn’t specify what that name actually was.

Sonia squeezed her hand gently. “You can have a bit of my energy.”

(Y/n) turned to her sharply, eyes narrowing skeptically. “You’re sure about that?”

Sonia nodded seriously, and after a second, she felt a spark at her fingertips. When (Y/n) removed her hand from Sonia’s she still didn’t look great, but she no longer looked like she was in pain. “Thank you.”

Sonia smiled sweetly and headed off towards her friends. (Y/n) watched as she tapped the pink haired man on the shoulder. What had they called him, Kazuichi?

(Y/n) watched Sonia’s mouth move, tempted to use her stronger hearing to hear the conversation, but she decided against it. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping.

She really wished she had though when Kazuichi started walking towards her.

He approached her hesitantly, like she would suddenly rip out his heart. She was honestly a bit offended by his reaction, but she supposed she couldn’t blame him.

The portrayal of demons amongst humans, both in writing and in word of mouth, was quite horrendous. Most of the things said about demons were actually wrong.

Many people claimed demons were monstrous beings that were created by and served Lucifer, but that wasn’t entirely true. Every demon was once human, but only the vilest, most horrible demons served under Lucifer.

She was not one of them. She had been born a human, though her father was, indeed, a demon. Her father was a truly wretched demon. Being his daughter had plagued her from the beginning, filling her head with horrible thoughts and desires for destruction.

In the end, it started to become too much to control. The only way to fix it was to perform a ritual that would denounce him as her father. The only problem was that the ritual would kill her.

She’d done it knowing that, and for that, she was to be locked out of heaven for one thousand years as her punishment. She was currently 999 years old. One more year and this hell she’d suffered would be over. She would be allowed into heaven and have any remnants of her father cleansed from her soul forever.

That thought had been enough to keep her going, to keep her hoping.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize Pinky had reached her until he was standing right in front of her.

He pointed at the spirals on her arm that had begun to shift, almost like they were flickering. “What’s goin’ on with those marks?”

“Since I’m only half-demon, it takes a certain amount of energy to keep up my demon form. Soon, I’m gonna have to switch back to my human form.”

“You’re half-human?”

“Yeah. My mom was a human.”

He shuffled awkwardly. “So what now?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Aren’t you like” He waved his hand as if that would answer her question. “feeding off me?”

Her eyebrows drew together. “You say that like I forced you to agree to that.”

“You did!”

She glared at him, not even caring when he flinched. “I didn’t tell you to do shit. In case you’re forgetting, I even asked you a second time if you were sure about it. The second you said ‘yes’, it became your problem. I don’t know about here, but in the demon world, a promise is a binding contract.” She scowled at him, irritation written across her face. “You think I wanted to be here? The only reason I showed up is because I owed the on-call demon a favor. If I knew I’d be knocking on death’s doorstep for the second time, I woulda said no.” She snapped angrily.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, telling herself to calm down. Her father’s spirit came through much worse when she was angry, and that was the last thing she wanted. “Listen, I’m not here to start a fight. Figure out what you wanna do. Until then, leave me alone.” With that, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

She wished she was still human. If she was, maybe no one would look at her with such disgust. She was tired of the fear in people’s eyes when they saw her.

‘Just one more year, kid’ She told herself.

Just one more year.

[nillegible]

Lan Xichen has the blood of innocents on his hands. His sword. Standing on that battlefield, corpses old and new thick on the ground, while the news filtered out that the Yiling Patriarch was dead, killed by the Sandu Sengshou… he’d known. There hadn’t been cultivators here, no army of demonic cultivators in training, there weren’t even able-bodied civilians, just the elderly and injured, farmers who had been trying to eke out a living on the most inhospitable place on earth.

It hadn’t been difficult to see that they had been misled – no, that they had been wrong, that they had acted without thinking without caution, and all that blood would not be washed away.

We were supposed to be the righteous ones, thinks Lan Xichen as they mount their swords in a mostly shocked daze. But we did that.

“At least we put them out of their misery,” Lan Xinyang says, when they’re walking away. Lan Xichen looks at him sharply, and the older man shrinks back a little. “They wouldn’t have lived long, Sect Leader Lan. Not without Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian.”

He has a point. Even if they’d been left to starve to death, their deaths would still be on their heads. Lan Xichen wishes he didn’t feel guilty for Wei Wuxian’s death. He had killed too many, gone too far to be saved as Wangji seemed to hope. Even Sect Leader Jiang didn’t seem to recognize the man he had grown up with anymore, not after Nightless City. Not after that massacre, where so many more had died.

Cloud Recesses is still wreathed in white, mourning for the disciples that they lost. Several of the survivors are still, even three months in, at the healing ward, with only a life of pain and disfigurement to look forward to. Lan Yingshi has not breathed a word since he returned to the Cloud Recesses. It was the corpse of another Lan disciple, his fiancée, that Wei Wuxian had reanimated, who had killed three of their junior martial siblings, and Lan Yingshi had stopped her himself, had carried her home when Wei Wuxian's spell finally fell apart.

There is no reason to regret Wei Wuxian’s death, not when he caused such suffering, deliberately or otherwise, and yet. An injustice cannot remedy a previous injustice. They cannot absolve themselves of all the blame by piling it on Wei Wuxian.

Because we didn’t listen.

Wei Wuxian had asked them, repeatedly, just to leave them alone.

Why didn’t we listen?

Wangji listened to him.

Wangji had listened, and look what that had led to.

Wangji had stepped between Wei Wuxian and their clan, alone. Had raised his sword to them, and saved Wei Wuxian, before returning, unrepentant, to accept his punishment. He had burned with righteous fury as they beat him down. His flesh had taken the punishment, but his soul had not cowered. Wangji had been sure he was right.

Lan Xichen doesn’t know. After the massacre… after the massacre had been too late, but Lan Xichen should have supported Wangji before then. Should have kept the Jin clan from pushing and pushing. Should have asked that Wen Qing’s life be spared.

He had done none of those things, and the weight of so much innocent blood lies heavily on him, he can hardly breathe.

On his return, Lan Xichen should fall to his knees before his brother and beg his forgiveness. It shouldn’t have been Wangji alone to see the righteous path, to do the right thing even when the politics made it unseemly. Are we not Lan?

Dismounting in the Cloud Recesses, he feels only shame. The home that Lan Xichen had lost, that he had been rebuilding every moment of these last long years, he has failed completely. The buildings had been replaced, the trees healed. But the heart of the Lan clan? That had been burned and broken during the Sunshot campaign as well, and he had not even seen the damage that needed to be fixed.

“Sect Leader Lan! Sect Leader Lan!”

Two disciples run to meet them, raising their voices. Something terrible must have happened, to make them react so. Lan Xichen musters up strength from the fog of exhaustion to hurry towards them. (No rest, he doesn’t deserve to rest, everything is his fault and he must set it right.)

“What has happened, Lan Yizhen?” he asks, looking to the elder between them.

“Sect Leader Lan, you are wanted at the healers. Sect Leader Lan,” there are tears in the teenager’s eyes.

“What happened?”

“They’re saying,” the boy’s voice cracks, and he tries again, voice shocked and quiet, “They’re saying Hanguang-Jun is dead.”

Lan Xichen stumbles, vision blacking out. When he blinks away the darkness, Lan Xinyang is holding him up from falling with one hand around his arm, and one at his waist. From the way he’s slumped Lan Yizhen’s face is actually higher than his. “No,” says Lan Xichen, looking up at him. Please. Please tell me he’s alive. Please tell me I didn’t kill him.

But Lan Yizhen says nothing, and Lan Xichen finds his feet, stumbles toward the medical building, Lan Xinyang at his side supporting him when needed.

His brother lies there on a bed, still and unmoving, an empty shell missing the warm presence of his qi to prove he lives. Lan Xichen falls to his knees beside Uncle Qiren, kneeling beside the bed, reaching out a trembling hand for the pale still one at Wangji’s side.

The explanations, the cause and time of death, the way the fever had been too fast and Wangji too weak still, even three months after his punishment, to have any strength at all that they could bolster. That Uncle Qiren and some of the elders had poured in qi until they had none left to give but it just didn’t work. The words are spoken around him, to him, the healers trying to explain just how this had happened. As if it could be explained. As Sect Leader, he should be listening, but Lan Xichen does not hear.

As a brother, the only words that he knows are:

Wangji wake up.

I wouldn’t.

Wangji I didn’t know, please.

Wangji, I.

I killed you.

Wangji.

More unimportant words; Lan Xinyang informs the healers and elders quietly that the Yiling Patriarch is dead and the Wen remnants at Yiling destroyed.

He’s dead, Wangji. Wei Wuxian is dead.

Why did you save him? Why did you- but he can’t ask that. Lan Xichen knows his brother, and he knows why.

We killed him, like we killed you.

Wangji, I can’t.

Wake up.

I was wrong.

I’m sorry.

Wangji, wake up. Please.

Wangji.

[vorta-whore]

Personal Log of First Ridok’tala

Notes from the personal log of one Jem’Hadar First in the early days of his species’ initiation into the Dominion, detailing his dealings with a particular Vorta by the name of Weyoun.

Weyoun 1 x Jem’Hadar OC

Entries 1-5 | Entry 6 | Interlude | Entry 7 | Audio File Review

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.651.7.

It is not my place to question the will of the Founders in any capacity. But I have found myself irritated lately at every turn due to this most recent change. Each rotation of our crew seems to be ordered just as we had begun to develop the efficiency of a cohesive unit. It seems every other week I am staring into a room full of unfamiliar faces. How am I to maintain trust and respect within my unit – loyalty among my men – if they are perpetually strangers among the ship? Moreover, how am I to develop an understanding of how best to serve my field supervisor if I am given no time to establish a working relationship with them before I am whisked away to another assignment?

It has been an acceptable-enough series of reviews from each supervisor so far – I would not be First if they did not recognize my ambition – but I am not given enough time to develop to the best of my abilities. I do not think this current system is conducive to allowing me to serve my Founders adequately. But there is no channel for me to voice these thoughts; it is the will of the Founders and so it is done. I will endeavor to do my best regardless of the circumstances.

 --

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.653.4.

Field Supervisor Keevan, to my great relief, was promoted to Sixth Fleet Overseer and so we were reassigned once more. It is jarring to be shuffled around so much, but I am happy to be free of that ship. I and my new unit have been placed under the command of a Vorta named Weyoun.

Over the course of my five years of life I have known many Vorta. They do not differ very much from one another. They display cunning, pettiness, manipulation. Their dealings with us are tinged with disdain and contempt. Some, like Overseer Keevan, even tend toward outright abuse.

This Vorta is very different.

He greeted my men kindly and in his voice I detected none of the usual hints of sarcasm. He has so far been patient as the crew has spent time becoming acquainted with the new ship over the past several days. He has not leveraged the White as punishment, which by this point into an assignment would usually have transpired at least twice.

I am not used to such...soft leadership. None of us are. The men don’t quite know how to respond and nor do I. But to say this is an unwelcome change would be a lie. I look forward to seeing how the situation develops.

--

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.662.8.

My men try their best. They really do. We are all still trying to adjust to this new order of things, Vorta and Jem’Hadar alike; it will take time for the road to become smooth of obstacles. Remnants of our previous life in Jem’Hadarian society, before the Uplifting, still linger in the fringes of our species’ subconscious. We had no need to forge alliances; matters were handled simply, with action rather than with words. And when words were required, they were not tempered with tact or subtlety. But now, before the elegant, intellectual Vorta, my people appear clumsy, uncertain. They interrupt at inconvenient times. They convey rudeness and disrespect where none was intended. They respond to every conflict with violence. It is no wonder the Vorta perceive us as nothing more than feral beasts.

Weyoun does not seem to hold this opinion. It is difficult to tell exactly what opinion he holds of us, but I do not think it is negative. There is a degree of...respect in our interactions. He does not pry for details when I assure him I will see to a matter, looking for holes to poke as the other Vorta have. He has allowed me to handle all disciplinary actions and to my knowledge has not been unsatisfied by the results. He welcomes my input in combat situations and, on one occasion, even thanked me for it.

The men are appreciative as well. He is endlessly patient with their social fumblings. He has not threatened to withhold the White at any point and does not treat the ritual as a burden. I have made it clear to my crew that we are to reciprocate this respect by striving to improve ourselves and our conduct as much as possible. For their part, they have shown progress. I caught two of them yesterday practicing conversational skills. This morning I overheard my Fourth advising the Fifth on techniques he utilizes to quell his anger in inappropriate situations. I have every confidence my people can grow to become something more than the dogs at the Vorta’s heel; if only there existed more supervisors like Weyoun to encourage this development to foster.

--

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.670.1.

I have been steeling myself for some time for another reassignment, but our orders have not changed since we boarded this vessel. This afternoon, while discussing tactics with Supervisor Weyoun, I made an offhand comment about the matter – another small luxury afforded by the supervisor’s lenient attitude – and he responded with nonchalance that he had personally requested he be allowed to keep his current crew, at least until the next rotation cycle. I wished to know his reasons for doing so, but out of fear of impoliteness I did not press the matter. Still, I remain curious. Perhaps it is related in some way to the recent change in his mannerisms; I have noticed his smiling growing more frequent as well as a tendency to hold eye contact with me for lengthier periods of time. Perhaps he is simply becoming comfortable with my company.

--

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.673.9.

My men and I underwent an exercise in patience today. Weyoun found himself engaged in animated discussion with a foreign dignitary at the usual time of the White distribution. I do not know if he had mistimed his communication or simply did not plan for it to take quite so long, but it does not matter; we needed the White. No matter how anxious my men grew, however, I did not allow them to interrupt the proceedings. After several hours the Vorta finally stepped away and I immediately made him aware of our need, which he wasted no time addressing.

However, there was an...incident.

Some malfunction caused the lockbox containing our White to fail to open. After several unsuccessful tries, Weyoun admitted with apprehension that he could not produce the White, and my Fifth lost his patience.

The Fifth has had a difficult time adjusting. More so than the others. I was unfortunate enough to serve beside him under Keevan’s command and I witnessed firsthand the injustices he’d suffered as the Vorta’s “favorite.” The experience has left him scarred and he refuses to accept that Weyoun’s kindness is genuine. He can see only snakes in the grass.

This happenstance seemed, to him, evidence to justify his mistrust. He accused the Vorta of toying with us purposely just before he lunged. I caught him easily and no harm was done – moreover I do not believe he was aiming to actually attack the supervisor. But such a display of threat was still unacceptable. I punished him by denying him today’s supply of White, since it was the cause of his unruliness. He will have to learn to deal with his emotions when they are not easily controlled.

Perhaps it was a soft punishment, but I do not feel the need to tarnish the admiration my men are beginning to develop for me with unnecessarily severe consequences. Time will tell if it is a successful tactic. I am only grateful to be able to serve on a ship that tolerates such experimental leadership methodology.

Weyoun, for his part, was sufficiently grateful for my interjection. He did not say as much but it was clear in his eyes. Times such as those remind the Vorta of their nature as prey animals, alone on a ship of predators, and though it is rare for Jem’Hadar to utilize violence against their superiors, it is not unheard of. Sometimes I pity them for this.

Weyoun was able to get the lockbox operational again and he delegated out the White. As I was leaving we had a strange interaction. He stopped me – first to ask if he could speak to me about a personal subject, a qualifier with which most would not be deigned to bother – and upon my approval, asked me to describe what it feels like to crave Ketracel White.

At first I did not know how to answer. The feeling is intrinsic to a Jem’Hadar warrior, and no other race has ever had interest in the process. I have never had need to put it into words. But I found some that I believe did the concept justice. I described to him the anxiety that fills us when we are without it. The thirst that becomes, eventually, overwhelming. The inability to focus on anything else. These things he seemed to understand. But I do not know if he truly appreciated the extent to which I emphasized the sensation of a hit of White. How it rushes one’s veins – fills one with warmth, with clarity, with life. There is no feeling like it in the world. Not even killing.

He seemed distracted as he considered my words. Then, inexplicably, he approached me and touched a hand upon my abdomen. I allowed it, but did not understand the gesture, and when I asked for clarification upon its significance he withdrew, apologized, and dismissed me.

I do not understand Weyoun in the slightest. I wonder if perhaps he is abnormal in some way. But I am finding more every day that my curiosity outweighs my apprehension. I am eager to see how these events will continue to unfold.

--

[evywrites]

The War pt. 2 [remus lupin x gender neutral!reader]

summary: The battle ensues, lives are lost. Live of which you were close to, some you were not. You could at least be thankful that the one person you needed had survived. At least, for now. The future is becomes quickly uncertain. warnings: minor character death and a brief injury. It’s nondescript, but still mentioned. word count: 2k a/n: So sorry for the delay! Life has been kicking me down extremely hard. I should be able to update hopefully more frequently now though. part 1

    The battle erupted, chaos and mayhem everywhere, invading Death Eaters destroying everything you held dear to you. People on both sides fell, unable to be identified in fear that you would soon join them if your focus strayed too far.

Your eyes squinted in focus, shooting spells, deflecting attacks. You worked with the people around you, lending help whenever you could. It didn't matter if you knew them or not, you helped them out, they helped you out.

You stood back to back with a kind looking girl. She couldn't have looked a day older than 16, yet she was still fighting a war. That knowledge spurred you on tonight as hard as you could, despite the fatigue that you felt creeping up on you.

Although, you couldn't help but wondering about if Remus was okay. You knew he was a tough cookie, that he could survive practically anything, but that didn't stop you. You both had lost many people close to you from the first war. You didn't want this one to be a repeat. You had to protect the people you loved.

As your thoughts strayed from the task at hand, you spaced out a little, letting your guard down. A sharp pain ran through your side, toppling you over. Hissing in pain, you squeezed your eyes shut. Your hand grasped the wound as the chaos continued around you. You couldn't do anything except sit there and blackout as the attack continued.

The girl next to you kept shooting you worried glances as the battle went on. She felt the weight of not having another person helping crushing down on her shoulders. She didn't let that deter her, however. Her face twisted with intensity as she sought to take down every last Death Eater near you.

The Death Eaters were no match for her as they swiftly fell or ran. Soon enough, they were all gone, and there was a fleeting moment of peace.

"Is there a healer anywhere? Please!" She shouted desperately, scanning the area. She let out a sigh of relief as she spotted a healer running around the corner with clear signs of exhaustion.

"I got it, you go help others." He stated, kneeling beside you. You felt the song of sleep calling you, beckoning you towards it. The pain in your side subsiding gradually. She nodded before standing up, giving you one last reluctant look before running off.

The healer cast a spell on you, and the pain quickly subsided. Your vision cleared as you lifted your head, thanking the healer.

"The spell wasn't severe, no need to thank me. Be safe out there, okay?" He patted you on the back, quickly standing up and heading off again to check for more injured people.

You stood up, still mildly dazed from remnants of the pain from a few moments ago. You knew you had to keep going, though. For Remus, for James and Lily.

You shook your head and ran off to help the others. You could only pray that this would end soon.

Remus deeply breathed as he took out Death Eaters one by one. He stood alone but kept a close eye on those around him. The incoming Death Eaters seemed unending. He moved with precision, taking out Death Eaters swiftly.

Despite the calm, collected look on the outside, his inner thoughts scrambled about. He incessantly worried about you, despite the task at hand. He should've gone with you, he should've. He'd be doing so much better if he was with you, by his side. Like always.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. His eyes quickly darting around him, he assessed the current situation. It seemed manageable by the people there. He shot one last spell at the Death Eater, toppling them over.

He clutched his wand tightly, running off to find you. He knew it was stupid, but he wasn't going to let you go that easily. James died while he wasn't there, Sirius got jailed without him there, he wasn't going to let you be next. You two still had so much ahead of you.

He wasn't going to accept a world without you in it.

He ran around the chaos of the castle aimlessly, eyes constantly scanning for any sight of you. He didn't have time to think about how sadly the castle looked at the moment, he only cared about you. He shot the occasional spell at an unsuspecting Death Eater as he went, but that wasn't his priority.

After a few minutes of running, he started to slightly back down on his idea. How was he going to find you in all this mess? The castle was so big, there was little to no chance of finding you.

Until by miracle, he found you. He instantly ran up to you, seeing you look a bit dazed, getting approached by Death Eaters. He silently shot spells at them, distracting them. You took advantage of the destruction and took the Death Eaters out. You lifted your eyes to meet Remus' with a relieved, yet worried look.

"Remus, oh Merlin." You grasped his face in your palms, taking a moment for yourselves. Your surroundings seemed calm for the time being. "How did you find me? Shouldn't you be helping others? We went entirely separate ways."

He lifted his hand to cup yours on his cheek, staring into your eyes. "I couldn't let you be alone, I thought I could do it, but my thoughts drifted too much."

"You idiot." You leaped forth and captured him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his neck. "You shouldn't have." You two stood there for a moment before letting go. You wished you could've stayed there, but you knew you had a battle to fight.

You defended Hogwarts together, feeling as motivated as ever. You both knew that each other were safe, and that allowed you to focus on keeping as many of the others safe as possible.

However, at some point, it just felt useless. The battle wasn't stopping. It seemed like you were just fighting a losing battle. Even you and Remus were worn down by it, but that didn't stop you. You were stubborn and would not be giving up.

A voice reverberated around the castle, startling both you and Remus. You jumped back, clutching at your wands.

"You have fought valiantly." The voice dominantly silenced all movement around the castle. There was no movement, only frozen bodies, frozen people, listening inescapably to the voice. The voice which belonged to Voldemort.

"Yet, you have lost many. If you continue to resist me, you will all die. I do not wish for that to happen, for it'd be truly tragic. I command my forces to retreat immediately." Instantaneously, the Death Eaters disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving behind the death and destruction.

"I will give you one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity, treat your injured." Your mouth slightly gapes open in disbelief, not comprehending what you were hearing.

"I speak directly to you now, Harry Potter. You have let your friends die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If at the end of the hour, you have not come to me, then the battle recommences. This time, I will enter the battle myself, and I will not be merciful. I shall find you, and punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me." Remus' hand subtly rested on your shoulder protectively, "One hour, one hour."

An overwhelming silence took over the castle, leaving behind only the sound of crackling fire and the murmurs of those around you. The atmosphere shifted. It seemed peaceful, yet it wasn't right. Nothing seemed right, Harry was just given an ultimatum. Thoughts swirled frantically around in your head, bubbling you up with worry over Harry.

Remus pulled you back into his chest, giving you a tight hug. Tears fell from his eyes as he wept, out of relief or grid, he didn't know. Neither of you two knew the full extent of the damage done yet, but you had each other, and you were so grateful.

"You're okay, you're really okay. We're okay. We'll be okay." Remus wept, still holding onto you tightly.

"We will." You whispered, clutching onto him. Neither of you wanted to go and assess the damage done, but you knew it had to be done.

You reluctantly trudged off in the direction of the Great Hall where everyone was gathered. You gathered your hand in Remus', tightly squeezing. Were you prepared for what you were about to find out? No.

You entered the Great Hall to find what seemed like millions of bodies scattered throughout. The sound of sobbing echoed ominously throughout, reeking of doom and despair. You shook your head, burying it into Remus' arm. A few tears leaked out of your eyes. You hadn't even seen the worst of it yet.

Remus' eyes scanned across the Great Hall, looking for anyone familiar.

Unfortunately, he did.

The next moments felt like a blur, unreal. So much death, so much loss. Fred, Tonks. It wasn't fair. None of this was. The tears blurred your vision, your reality slipped away as the crushing actuality of all the lost people crushed down on you. You clung to Remus for support, tears streaming freely down your face. You hadn't experienced loss like this since the first war.

You sat for the hour with everyone, mourning the losses. You could only hope that Harry would be okay, the last remnants of James and Lily. You didn't know what you'd do if you'd lost another Potter to Voldemort. You swore you'd protect Harry, but here you were, being physically with him yet feeling unable to protect him. You knew that you were no match for Voldemort, and felt powerless.

"Harry?" You called his name softly, catching his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, Harry. I love you. Remus and I love you. I wish I could've protected you more or done something more." You shook your head, looking down.

"You've done fine, don't worry. This isn't your fault, this is Voldemort's fault." Harry replied, nervously smiling at you. Remus joined in, standing next to you and putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, I'm so proud of what you've accomplished. You're an amazing wizard and have gone through so much. James and Lily would be proud."

"Thanks, Remus." His voice falters, attention focusing down at the ground. You saw his mind clearly racing, and your heartbeat quickened. You knew that he was tough, that he's survived many things, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but to just want to take him away to a place where he could enjoy life without the danger, without the stress.

But here you were, in the middle of a battle against Voldemort where Harry had been given an ultimatum.

"I have to do it. I'm going to face Voldemort and show him that I'm not a coward. I can't let all of you suffer more because of me." Your face fell, quickly being overtaken by panic.

"Harry, no. I'm sure there's a better way we can go about this I-" He cut you off.

"No, there isn't. No one else is going to die because of me, no one." He stood up, swiftly glancing around before determinedly walking off. Tears formed in your eyes, threatening to spill. Remus wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

"We'll be okay, eventually, my love. Don't worry." Remus whispered in your ear, pressing a ight kiss against your earlobe.

Leaning back into his chest, you nodded subtly. You hoped so.

part 3 will happen !

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 83

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​

The call comes shortly before four in the morning; the shrill ring and the incessant vibration of the phone against the nightstand startling him awake. Tyler groans at the intrusion; annoyed by the abrupt end to what had been an uncharacteristically peaceful sleep. Insomnia had settled in their first night in Dhaka; rattled by the ongoing threats against his family and the turn to the very place  where he’d nearly lost his life. Seven years feels like seventy some days; given reprieve when the memories don’t creep up for weeks, sometimes even months on end. Yet there’s times where it feels as if it were seven days ago; vivid recollections of the taste of his own sweat and blood, the smell of gunpowder and spilt gasoline, the cries of the wounded and dying. It’s been years since he’s had what he considers a decent sleep; five to seven hours without being disturbed by pain or bad dreams or being woken by a crying baby or little ones climbing into bed alongside him.

 While it only been three hours since he and Esme had returned upstairs the short period of rest that had preceded their love making had been the deepest and most restful sleep in recent memory.   The day’s roller coaster of emotions finally caught up to him; initially channelled into languid and gentle -and ultimately desperate- sex. The realization that it may very well be the last time they would physically enjoy each other fuelling the need; hands and mouths working together to fully worship and pleasure one another before giving in to the act itself. Moving slowly inside of her at first; long, soft kisses being exchanged as her hands roamed his shoulders and back and travelled down his arms.  Those huge, dark eyes and her legs wrapping around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back signalling that she needed more from him. WANTED more. And he’d obliged; repeatedly driving into her with near brutal force. Thrusts that pushed her further up the bed and had her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort; teeth sinking into his shoulder and nails breaking the skin as they raked down his back and over his ribs. Enjoying the way his name sounded coming from her mouth; whether it be the whispers and whimpers or the begging and pleaded and eventually the cry of her released.  It’s always been her favorite thing to hear, even outside of sex. The way it sounds when she’s giggling while he teases her or when it’s sleepy and slightly disoriented after he’s woken her up after falling asleep on the couch.

He can remember what it had felt like when she’d said it for the first time; in that cramped and dirty hotel room in the city centre. Since their initial first meeting at that old shack in the outback, she’d been calling him by his last name; a habit picked up in both the military and her time on the job. First names are usually abode; too personal considering the unpredictable circumstances and the very short time you’re actually in someone’s life. But in that moment...in the heat of an intense argument between two severely obstinate people...with his hand around her neck and those dark eyes -stoic and unnerved- staring up at him, everything changed.

“Admit it,” she’d snarled. “For the right price, you’d leave me AND the kid behind. Admit it, Tyler.”

It was the first time she’d said it; his first name. And it had caused something inside of him to snap; that stubbornness and assertiveness and those eyes his complete undoing. It had been years since a woman had made him feel that level of want and need, and despite the rational side of his brain screaming at him to walk away, he’d given in. His hand still on her throat as he kissed her with a complete loss of control he’d never exhibited with anyone else. Spurred on when she’d so eagerly responded; unable to stop things from progressing even further. Taking her right there up against the wall, pounding into her with punishing thrusts that were fuelled by years of anger, guilt, and regret.  And that little body had taken everything he’d unleashed on it; hands tightly gripping his hair and her legs wound around his waist. Encouraged by the way she begged and pleaded for ‘more and ‘harder’ and the way his first name suddenly couldn’t stop tumbling from her lips.

After that, she never called by his last name ever again. And he’d have to stop himself from smiling every time she said his first. It sounded THAT good.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he reaches over his wife’s still, sleeping form and snags the phone before it can go to voicemail. There’s that brief moment of panic of late night calls while on a job; someone getting a hold of him to say that something to one -or all- of the kids. The tightness that forms in your chest and the way your heart hammers wildly. But the relief is instantaneous at the sight of Yaz’ name on the screen. Although it brings a whole host of other emotions with it.

“Yeah?” His greeting is simple. Voice laced with the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Be ready to go in three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“Guy I sent to try and get eyes in Asif’s place had other ideas; decided to go a different route. Grabbed one of the street thugs and beat the shit out of him and threatened to blow his knee caps and his dick off if he didn’t tell him where Neysa and Aarev are.”

“And he rolled over on his buddies?”

“Guess he really wanted to keep the family jewels. You were right; it IS a storage facility. One that hasn’t been in business for a while. About ten minutes outside of the city centre, going west. Sent my guy there to check it out; three separate buildings. They’re being held somewhere in the centre one. Sorry I couldn’t narrow it down any further.”

“I’ll work with whatever you give me. How many hostiles  on site?”

“My guy counted six. I was able to get some surveillance set up; I’ve only seen ten at the most. Not too bad, right? If you can take out a whole apartment of assholes…”

“I’m not the man I was back then.”

“It was only seven years ago. Not seventy.”

“Tell that to my body.”

“You gonna be alright?” Yaz asks. “Think your old bones can handle this?”

“It’s not my bones I’m worried about.”

“If you can’t mentally do this. I’m not going to hold it against you. If you think whatever is left of your sanity won’t hold up...”

“I’ll be fine. In and out, yeah? Sounds like a pretty straight forward extraction. Not too many hostiles to deal with, a pretty open space, we’re away from the market area. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You know better than to ask something like that.  It was a good call on Esme’s part; going north. Not a single damn roadblock that way. They’re expecting trouble to come over the Buriganga.  That’s why they’ve shut the bridges down. I’ll drop you guys off just north of Dhaka; there’ll be two SUVs waiting.”

“How far back into town?”

“Twenty minutes. I'll be waiting at the extraction point. By the time anyone realizes what went down at the storage place AND get there, you’ll already be on your way back. We’re going to cause a big old thing on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.”

Tyler grins. “Big old thing, huh? I’d expect nothing less from you, Yaz.”

“Got a couple guys coming to pick the three of you up. Seven. You good to go?”

“I will be.”

“I’d expect nothing less from YOU. See you soon.”

“Yep,” he confirms, and then disconnects the call and returns the phone to the nightstand and rolls  over onto his back. He groans  at the discomfort in his shoulder and across the small of his back, then rakes his hands through his hair and runs them down his weary face.

He doesn’t move for several minutes; a forearm draped over his eyes. Finding himself oddly calm; long ago relegating himself to both the seriousness of the mission and his chances of getting out of it alive. The latter has improved with news of location and the number of hostels; with Koen and Rata and Anil’s two men, there will be more than enough bodies to handle everyone on site. A large indoor space will be much easier to navigate, and provides more places to grab cover if needed. He much prefers working in that kind of environment; having more room to move and not feeling as he’s being confined and suffocated. While everyone assumes the apartment seven years ago had been easy, it had in fact been one of the harder take down’s he’s ever done. There’d been a lot of people in that little space, and he’d had to work quick and with whatever items were at his disposal once he was unarmed.

Tyler moves back onto his side; sliding closer to his wife’s sleeping form and wrapping an arm around her, hand settling on the small -but very visible- baby bump. The fear is there; that this is the last moment of this kind he’ll get to spend with her. That worry that he’ll never again experience that soft, supple skin pressed against his own or breathe in that familiar scent. That he won’t get to see her grow bigger with child. HIS child. The way her body changes and she becomes even more beautiful and desirable; the extra weight and curves and the way her face fills out and seems to glow. She’s never seen herself the way he does, especially while pregnant. And she could never understand how incredible she actually is; selflessly giving her body in order to nurture and protect a life that he had a hand in creation.  He never thought it was possible to love someone more with each passing day. That devotion that grows impossibly stronger when she watches her as a mother.

Esme stirs. Giving a long, content sigh and then pressing herself back against him; hand slipping down to briefly rest on top of his. Her fingers grazing along his own and then over his wrist and across his forearm. Her touch is soft and deeply intimate, and the quietness and the innocence surrounding it profoundly affects him; tears pricking his eyes and his throat and chest tightening with emotion. When her hand once more settles on top of his, he pushes his fingers through hers and holds as tightly as she can stand. It’s desperate; all of his fear and his worry communicated through something so simple.  And for several minutes neither move nor speak his eyes closed and the top of his nose pressed against the back of her neck.

“How long?” she asks.

“Three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“It was,” he sighs. “Way too fast.”

He’d thought he had more time. That it would take Yaz at least half a day to mobilize his teams;  to get eyes into Asif’s place and scouts sent north. And he’d planned on spending every remaining waking moment with her; doing whatever it took to make sure she knew exactly how much he loves and worships hers. Words have never come easy to him; often lost on what to say past those three simple -yet profound- words. The last thing he wanted -of the worst case scenario came into play- was her being left with doubts surrounding how he felt about her. Actions are easier for him; those small, thoughtfully little gestures that always bring a smile to her face. And he’d thought he’d get that chance; an opportunity to show her just how -and what- he feels. Three hours will feel like three minutes. With a deadline like that, he’s suddenly at a loss; not knowing  if there’s any words or actions that could ever truly communicate how much he DOES  love her.   How thankful he is for the second chance he’d been given seven years ago. And how he always thought they’d have more time together than that.

“How much do you have to do to get ready?” she asks.

“Everything’s ready to go. There’s nothing I need to do.”

“So we can just lie here like this? For a little while?”

“For the next three hours if you want.”  He raises his head from his pillow and presses a kiss to her temple, then her ear and her cheek and finally the corner of her mouth.

Releasing the hold on his hand, she rolls over onto her side to face him and slides even closer to him, settling her cheek on his pillow. The tips of their noses touching and their mouths mere inches apart, eyes locked. He tries not to notice the tears that sparkles in hers; the way she chews on her bottom lip as she struggles to control her own tsunami of emotions. He manages a small smile and presses his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for several seconds before pulling back to look at her. Eyes slowly scanning her face as calloused fingertips trace the burrows in her brow and move across the tops of her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose; travelling along the outer edges of her hair and across her lips.

“Don’t go,” Esme whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Let someone else do it. You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“It does. You know it does.”

“I thought I was prepared for this; that I was ready to see you walk away. But I’m not. I’m nowhere near ready. Please don’t go, Tyler.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and kisses the bridge of her nose before gathering her into his arms; pulling her flush against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and places a series of feathery pecks across her shoulder. “I’m right here. I got you.”

The tears come now; loud, heartbreaking and gut wrenching sobs that shake her entire body and he feels to his very soul. All of those emotions pouring out of her; feeling the hot, bitter drops against his skin and the way her hands desperately clutch at his upper arms and the back of his neck. Even when things had been their darkest and their hardest, she’d never control to that extent. There’s nothing left to say; no possible words that could bring her comfort. Instead he lets her cry. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against the side of her neck;  a palm sliding up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. There’s little more he can do; no promises he can make or words that will lessen the severity of what lies ahead. No snide or humorous comment that will bring a smile to her face. It’s way beyond anything either of them have ever experienced; a fear and uncertainty that no other job has ever brought with it.

Eventually the sobbing subsides; transitioning into light whimpers and then a silence that’s occasionally interrupted by soft sniffles.

“You alright now?”  Tyler asks when she pulls away. The hand that was in her hair now moving to her face; fingers clearing the remaining tears off her cheeks and the sides of her nose. He hates seeing her cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially when he’s the reason behind it.

“Not really,” Esme admits. “But I will be. When this is over and you’re back here. Safe and sound.”

“Hopefully it won’t be an all day thing. Sooner I’m out of there, the better. Last thing I want is to get trapped in the city. Didn’t go so well the first time.”

“This time you’re not doing it all alone. Or least you’ll have people watching your back. I could only do so much, and Ovi was just a kid. You pretty much had to carry the entire thing.”

“I think you totally underestimate how much you actually did.”

“I know I slowed you down. A lot. I know that you’d just listened to Nik…”

He pecks her lips. “We’re not going to talk about that. That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

What DO you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. You have any more dreams?”

She nods. “A good one this time. A very good time.”

“About what?”

“About when we got married. How nice you cleaned up; suit, tie, the beard all trimmed.”

“I was going to cut my hair too. But I figured you’d be pissed off enough to turn around and walk out.”

“I so would have left you at the altar if you’d done that,” she teases. “That was the one thing I asked you not to do; cut your hair.”

“I will never understand your obsession with it.”

“It’s just how I know you. It’s how it looked when we met. I guess it’s just what I’m used to. I’m sure one day I won’t mind if you do something different. But I swear to God, if you ever ask me shave it off again….”

“I know it broke your heart the first time. I won’t do that to you again. Maybe I’ll keep the hair and shave the beard off.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warns, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Do you remember the morning after? The hotel in Byron Bay?”

“I vividly remember that morning. And the night before.”

“I don’t mean THAT. Although, THAT was pretty incredible. I remember thinking afterwards that it felt different. In a good way. An amazing way. Because now it just wasn’t my boyfriend or my fiance or whatever making love to me. It was my husband.  I don’t know; thinking about it that way made it seem different. Is that weird?”

“No. It’s not weird.  I remember watching you sleep and thinking ‘that’s my wife’.”

“You did?”

“Seemed surreal; my fake wife now being my real one. Especially after I said I’d never get married again.”

“After Mark, I told myself I’d only go for girls for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, it’s easy to see why he ruined all men for you.”

“I guess it just took a certain man to change my mind.”

“Yeah, one who could put up with all your shit.”

“I didn’t come with THAT much shit. You came with enough baggage for both of us. And I still didn’t run away. Maybe I’m the glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe,” he grins, and kisses her.

“But do you remember that morning? We had breakfast out on the balcony. And it was so nice out; it wasn’t too hot and the sky looked amazing and the way the sun shone on the water…” she sighs. “...it was like I woke up that morning and everything seemed even more beautiful than before.”

“I remember you had your hair down; the sun was making all the red in it sparkle. And you had that on this pink shirt that was off the shoulder and tied at the middle of your back. You were already showing pretty good with Millie; I remember thinking there was no way you could possibly get any more beautiful. And I remember wondering what the hell I’d ever done to deserve my life; a new wife, a baby girl on the way. You were really talkative and giggly that morning.”

“I was a newlywed. It was my honeymoon. And you’re the bringer of multiple orgasms.  We should go back there; stay at the same hotel. A little getaway.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“What I’m going to say next is probably going to sound sappy. Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s really sappy. Like really, really, REALLY sappy.”

“Try me.”

“I remember watching you and seeing the ring on your fingers and thinking how good it looked on you. And I was the one who put it there. I remember thinking ‘I have a husband now’ and it felt really good to think it. And it felt even better that it was you I was thinking it about. Is that weird? That I thought that?”

“No, baby. It’s not weird. It’s not weird at all.”

“And I know you don’t think it sometimes, but you’ve been an amazing husband,” her voice quivers with emotion and tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “I know things haven’t always been easy; that I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. That I’m tough to love sometimes. But you’ve been the one person I can count on; who makes me feel safe and protected. And I guess I just needed you to hear that. That there hasn’t been a time I didn’t love you.  Even when things were shit, I loved you. Even when we didn’t know if we were going to make it or not.”

“But we did. We DID make it.”

“Seven years is not enough. And I’m scared that if you leave…”

“Everything’s going to be okay. In and out, right?”

“Nothing’s ever that simple.”

“Maybe this time it will be.”  He brushes her hair off her forehead. “Maybe this will be the one time things don’t go to shit.”

“Maybe. But I wanted you to hear all that. About how amazing you’ve been. About how much I love you. I didn’t want you to walk out here not knowing all that.”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never doubted it. Have you? Ever doubted it?”

“How you feel about me?”

Tyler nods.

“No. You’ve always made sure that I know. Even if you don’t say it, you’ve always found a way to show it. And I see the way you look at me sometimes; you think I don’t notice, but I do. And I can’t describe it; what it looks like. How your eyes and your face look.  I just know how it makes me feel when I see it. It makes me feel beautiful and incredible and...I don’t know…loved.”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. Just in case. I need to know that you know.”

“I know. I’ve always known, Tyler. I knew on the bridge. I knew before you did. It was in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”

“I have a confession to make. About seven years ago.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t know if I like the sounds of that.”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just…it’s about the first time. In the hotel room. When I grabbed you.”

“When you tried to choke me out, you mean?” she lightly teases.

“I wasn’t angry. I mean, I was. I was pissed off that you didn’t listen to me. But I wasn’t THAT pissed off. That’s not why I did it.”

She combs her fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“I was trying to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared. Because I liked the way you smiled at me. I liked the way you’d always find a way to touch me. I liked the sound of your voice and the way you laughed And I hated that I DID like all of that. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to like YOU.  So I tried to scare you away. Because I didn’t want to feel anything else for you.  Because everyone I’ve ever loved? I’ve lost. And I didn’t want that happening. Not again. That’s why I did it. I wanted to scare you away.”

“Were you surprised? When it didn’t work?”

“I think it made me even angrier. Because you wouldn’t let me get away with it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. From me.”

“There was nothing to protect me from, Tyler. You’re not the monster you think you are. You never have been. And I saw you; the real you. The one you hide from else. There was nothing you could have done to scare me away.”

“And to think you call me stubborn.”

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. But you're also the sweetest. And the most adorable.”

He frowns. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. You are. You have a huge heart in that big body of yours. And you may have been able to hide it from everyone else you’ve ever known, but you’ve never been able to hide it from me. And I love that about you; you’ve never felt a reason to hide it.  You’ve always trusted me; right from the first night in Dhaka. When you told me about Austin. You let me see all sides of you. Even the ones that aren’t so pretty.”

“Don’t call me pretty.  Or adorable. Or cute.”

“I don’t care what you say. You’re the most adorable mercenary ever.”

“How DARE you insult me like that.”

“I love you,” she says, and pushes his bangs off his forehead. “I only hope one day you’ll know how much,”

“I already know. And I love you. So much. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You. Us.  My kids. My life. Everything.”

She manages a shaky smile, then breaks down once more. Both arms circling his neck as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Can you just hold me? That’s all I want. Just hold me, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her hand and wraps both arms around her. As tight as he possibly can.

*****

Three hours later she finds herself standing on the front porch, watching as the last of the needed gear is loaded  into the trunks of the ‘getaway’ vehicles. Despite the stifling heat and oppressive humidity, she can’t stop shivering; the fear and anxiety so powerful it creates a damp, cold sensation that stretches from head to toe and seems to burrow into her bones.   It’s nearly a hundred degrees outside and she can’t seem to get warm. Not even with the fleece lined hoodie she keeps tightly wrapped around her.

Every time he leaves for a job it’s difficult; the uncertainty of the situation, the possibility of things going wrong, the potential for serious injury or even death. Normally she’s more optimistic; refusing to let doom and gloom settle in despite how dangerous a mission sounds. But this is beyond anything she’s ever experienced before; aside from seven years ago. How fitting that it’s the same place that carries such a heavy weight; the vivid and brutal memories of the past making it nearly impossible to envision a different outcome in the present.

“How are you holding up?” Koen inquires, as he joins her on the porch. A tactical vest slung over one shoulder, backpack perched on the other.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“You know me; I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Usually that means a red head with daddy issues,” she teases.

“You’re way too quick for me, you know that? I see how you keep him on his toes. Although I don’t think he stands a chance against you.”

“He’s been a good sport. He hangs in there for some reason. He’s been sticking around for seven years. I’m just hoping he’ll stick around for at least seven more.”

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think he’s a little too crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and pulls the sides of the hoodie even tighter around her. “I’m pretty crazy about him too. Which is why this is so damn hard. I thought I was ready; that I’d be okay when the time came. But I’m not okay. I’m far from okay.”

“Just hang in there a little while longer, kiddo. You’ve come a long way already; be a shame to break down right before the finish line. Your man’s got this; he knows what he’s doing. Smart as hell. Even if he does do dumb shit sometimes. Has a knack of getting me into trouble, that’s for sure.”

“He appreciates it. Koen; everything you’ve done, everything you continue to do. You backed him right away; when he showed up at your place and told you about the business. And you didn't think twice about helping him when all this started. You just agreed to it. Knowing how bad it could get.”

“Well, as much as I shit talk him, I really do love that drongo. I’ve got a soft spot for him. And you and the littles. How could I not? You’re the one who made him who he is now.”

“I know you’re totally overestimating my role in his life.”

“You’re the one who gave him a second chance. Saw past the mess he was.  Made him a husband and a daddy again. You’re the one that’s stuck by him through all the bullshit; the booze, the meds, the job. And I know damn well he’s not the easiest person to love.”

“Well he’s made it pretty easy for me. Even at his worst, he’s better than most.”  

She watches Tyler as he finishes the last of the preparations before heading out. Standing at the open tailgate of one of the SUVs, quiet and focused despite Rata attempting to carry on a loud and animated -and most likely nervous- conversation. His eyes are darker and the furrows in his brow are present; lips set in a thin, grim line as he works at filling the pockets on the vest he already sports.  This is the old Tyler; the one that’s all business with adrenaline coursing through his veins and his instincts and senses running on overdrive.

“You know, I used to like seeing this side of him,” she says. “I used to love it, actually. Seeing the mercenary side of him. Intense, focused. I liked knowing what he was capable of. Now…” she sighs. “...well I don’t like it so much now. How sad is that? What kind of wife would even think that, let alone say it? How horrible am I?”

“One that loves her husband and hates what’s happening to him. You’re not horrible. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that this time isn’t different; that the stakes aren’t a lot higher. Has he ever walked into something where someone  was intentionally looking to kill him?”

“Not that I know of. Not since I’ve known him.”

“Hard to like anything about a situation like this. Considering what he’s about to walk into?”

“I can’t even believe it got this far. That Mahajan went so far off the deep end that we’re actually at this point? How did this even happen? It’s been seven years! Saju is dead, why would he still want revenge on his family? And to threaten mine? We took Ovi in; we gave him a life. A real life. A real family. We love him like he’s our own. And this is how Mahajan repays us? Threatening my children, putting a bounty on my husband’s head? How the hell did it ever get to this?”

“Some people are fucked,” Koen reasons, and she gives a small, dry laugh. “I wish I had a better explanation. But it’ll all be over soon. We’ll take care of shit here, Anil will handle things with Mahajan. He’s ready to go?”

“As far as I know. He’s got a couple guards he was able to pay off. They’re going to lead him right into the showers when Mahajan is in there. It should be over pretty quick. If you ask me, he deserves something slow and painful. But beggars can’t be choosers, can they.”

“Sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Should have been over a long time ago. If we’d been told about this when it all started, Tyler would have ended it then. But Ovi dropped the ball and then Allison and her games and I just…” she sighs and tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...a lot of people fucked up. And now my husband has to go and fix it. What else is new? Just watch out for him, okay? Have his back? Please.”

“You know I will. I’ve followed him this far. Might as well go balls to the wall.”

She struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “Would it be too much to ask that you bring him back in one piece?”

“You got it kiddo.” He draws her into a tight hug and presses a kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay? We’re almost there.”

“You be safe,” Esme says, and affectionately pats his cheek when he holds her at arm's length. “It’s kind of nice having grandpa Koen around.”

“I never said you call me that.”

“I don’t remember asking your permission.”

“Smart ass,” he smirks, then playfully tousles her hair before stepping away. Giving Tyler a nod and a small smile; patting him on the shoulder as he takes his place on the porch.

“I can’t look at you,”  she says, as her hands busy themselves tightening the Velcro secured straps on his vest. “If I look at you, I’ll cry. And the last thing you need is me crying right now. I can do that when you leave.”

He places his hands on the side of her face, then presses a kiss to her hair.  Neither of them speak; their eyes closed, his chin resting on the top of her head, her hands tightly gripping his forearms.

“Be safe,” she pleads.

“Always.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I wish that was enough; to get you through this”

“It’s enough,” Tyler assures her. “It’s always enough.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she finally raises her head to look at him. “I won’t ask. I know you don’t want me to.”

“You ask, and I’ll do it. I’ll stay. And that’ll just bring even more problems.”

“I know.  I know why it has to be you. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It’s going to be alright.”  He cradles her face in his palms and kisses her. Longer and more intense than usual. “I gotta go,” he moves a hand to the back of her neck and places a kiss to her forehead. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, then runs a hand over the top of her head and down her hair before stepping off the porch.

“Hey!” she calls to him, and he stops and turns towards her.

“Remember the first time around, when we said we were going to travel when we got out of Dhaka?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You totally bailed on me. I think you owe me a trip, Tyler Rake,”

A grin plays in the corners of his mouth. “I definitely do,” he says, and then turns and heads for the waiting car.

[archerofthemists]

Althea and Tyrian oneshot.

ANGST. Blood, gore. Near death experiences. Love realization. You have been warned.

I'll use you as a warning sign

That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

In the time since she had joined them, Althea and Tyrian had become one of the most lethal teams in Remnant. With Salem's order, Tyrian had trained Althea in better hand to hand combat, which she was grateful for. Her bow, Death's Sigh was all but useless when she was close to an opponent. She became skilled with a set of curved knives and she made some alterations to her main weapon. 

The task should have been simple and easy. It would be four of them, Tyrian, Althea, Watts and Hazel. Tyrian and Althea after one target, Watts and Hazel after another in another part of the city. Grimm had come in acting as a perfect distraction. The deaths of their important targets would spread discourse through the people and bring even more Grimm. So easy…

And yet…

Althea's aura was low and Tyrian's was almost broken, not that he stopped fighting. They had been unexpectedly outnumbered and the toughest of the group had a Semblance that blocked all emotions. Althea had to admit, it was a nice Semblance when fighting. No one could get under your skin with banter and it could let you do certain things without flinching. 

But considering it made her own Semblance useless against him, it really pissed her off.

She and Tyrian had taken down most of the team, who lay dead or badly injured. The only two left standing were their target and her emotionless teammate. 

Althea had lost her daggers while taking down the other three opponents and she had no opportunity to retrieve them so she'd fallen back on her bow despite the closeness of her enemies. 

Althea drew back her bowstring and turned to aim it at their original target, who was swinging her dust battle axe, ready for the arrow. 

Tyrian had turned to attack the emotion blocking hunter, stinger whipping around ready to bury itself in his opponent's chest.

She heard the sound of a weapon breaking through the air just a second before she felt the impact from behind. The pain was immediate, spreading through Althea's side.

She never got the chance to release her arrow. Althea looked down to see the end of a jagged spear protruding from her lower abdomen. Blood seeped through her clothing and trickled down her leg as she dropped her bow.

Her mind went to Tyrian, and she glanced over her shoulder and felt her stomach clench. 

The spear belonged to the emotionless behemoth. He had thrown it before Tyrian leapt to attack him. 

The spear had pierced Tyrian's side before it had hit Althea through the back. Now here they stood, a long, jagged glass spear buried in them both.

Althea knew heavy internal damage had been done and she hardly felt it as she fell to the ground, too weak to stand her ground. 

Her ears hardly register the sound of her enemies fleeting footsteps and the sound of Grimm attacking the city.

What did cut through the haze were Tyrian's soft whimpers of pain and wheezing. 

Althea managed to turn over to face him, it hurt like something otherworldly but she did it. 

"Tyr…" she reached out and took his free hand. The other was pressed against his deep and ragged wound. 

And I'll use you as a focal point

So I don't lose sight of what I want

Tyrian barely felt the wound as he lay there in shock. Althea's gentle hand made him flinch before he looked to her.

"We...failed…" he choked out. "We failed...our Queen…"

"I know...I know…" Althea gasps out. The pain was excruciating and she could hardly think. "We did...the best...we could…"

"Not enough...we weren't good enough…" Tyrian whimpers. His wound hadn't neared any internal organs but the flesh wound was deep and he was losing blood.

Althea managed to crawl to him, closing the distance completely and gently taking Tyrian's cheek in her bloody hand.

"Don't worry about that now...ok?" She says softly, her green eyes never leaving his golden ones, which were starting to fill with tears.

Tyrian wondered if her eyes had always been such a beautiful green…so full of life even as she lay dying beside him.

He could hear his heart thudding in his ears and he let his bloody hand leave his wound to gently rest on Althea's. 

Death didn't seem so bad when you weren't dying all alone. If there was another side, maybe he would see her there…

And I've moved further than I thought I could

But I missed you more than I thought I would

"Where ARE THEY?!" Watt's and Hazel were at the rendezvous point. They needed to leave the city NOW. 

They couldn't get a response over their earpieces, and they knew something had gone terribly wrong.

Watt's first instinct was to just leave the city with Hazel and get back home to Evernight Castle, but he knew there was a high risk of Salem's wrath if they did that. Returning with only half the team and not knowing if the second target had been eliminated?  Unforgivable failure. 

And not that Watts would admit it, but he would feel guilty leaving his teammates behind, not knowing what had become of them.

"Let's go find them." Hazel stood, looking determined. 

It truly didn't take long to accomplish that. Watts and Hazel already knew what section of the city Tyrian and Althea were supposed to be in for their ambush, so it was just a question of looking in every alley and street.

It was Hazel who found them. He was sure they were already dead by the looks of them. Curled together in a large pool of their mingling blood.

"DOCTOR!"

Watts swallowed hard at the sight and he shoved his feelings aside, letting himself slip into the zone that doctors had to get into in emergency situations.  

Althea was unconscious and her pulse was almost non existent. Tyrian's body jolted when Watts checked for his pulse and his eyes fluttered open a little. He groaned deeply as  he felt the doctors hands probe and assess his wound which wasn't nearly as severe as Althea's. Watts worried that one of her kidneys could have been punctured. 

"Hazel, do you think you can carry them both out of here?" Watts asks as he opens his medicine bag and desperately tried to get Althea stable with what he had.

"I'll carry em all the way back home if you need me to." Hazel tried to keep a poker face but eventually he had to look away from the bloody scene.

And I'll use you as a warning sign

That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

It was like floating. Floating on an ocean as the pain rose and fell with the current. Tyrian felt hands on his body, and they were hurting him, but he didn't have an ounce of strength to fight off the enemy. He was already dying so what more could they do to him?

He accepted the pain, it was a good and familiar friend to him.

Soon his head felt fuzzy, like his brain had been removed and replaced with cotton. Tyrian could hardly put a coherent thought together in his head, and that was a hard enough task when he was conscious. 

He felt numb and weak but safe. He was somewhere familiar and warm. 

When his eyes finally open his vision is blurry. Well, blurrier than it normally is. The only light was from the moon shining in through the window above his bed. 

This isn't his room, he knows that immediately; there weren't any windows in his room. 

It took Tyrian a long while to get his bearings at all. 

He now could tell he was in Watts lab, in the little recovery room that sat just off where the doctor did experiments and surgeries. Tyrian had woken up in this bed plenty of times in the past, considering how often he could seriously hurt himself sometimes.

IV needles stuck out of his arms, feeding blood and fluids into his veins. Tyrian hissed softly. He could handle pain, loved it sometimes but needles always made his skin crawl. He wanted to yank them out but his limbs felt too heavy and his fingers wouldn't cooperate. 

He huffs as he lets his head fall back against the pillow.

His mind was still foggy and he couldn't quite remember how he had ended up here…

The mission...his target...He remembered fighting, killing, the blood and screaming…what else? 

The alley.

The ambush.

The spear.

Althea…

Tyrian suddenly felt very sobered as he forced himself into a sitting position. His side protested and he groaned, feeling the fresh bandages wrapped around his lower midsection. 

His hair was unbraided, falling in oak brown waves over his shoulders and along his face.

 His head swam for a moment, which he wouldn't have minded if he didn't have more important things to worry about.

He finally managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and reached out and gripped the white dividing curtain and tore it aside.

Tyrian released a breath he hadn't realized he'd even been holding.

There, in the other hospital bed, Althea was hooked up to even more IVs and machines than Tyrian. She wore the same bandages across her middle and her breathing was ragged, a tube across her nose forced oxygen into her lungs.

Tyrian let his body relax as he sat on the edge of his bed and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten back or how Watt's had managed to save them both. Even if Tyrian's wound hadn't been as bad, he knew he'd lost a lot of blood. But honestly Tyrian didn't care. They were both alive and nothing else mattered.

However as Tyrian sat there, watching Althea's chest rise and fall, he began to realize that they had failed the mission given by their Goddess. His heart began to pound as he wondered what punishment they may face. Merely disappointing her was bad enough.

He realized that he was more worried about Althea - her condition and her possible punishment- more than anything.  But why? Why was Tyrain so worried anyway? Why had he been so frantic to know if she was alive?

Why was watching her bleed to death beside him one of the most heart wrenching things he'd witnessed?

Was this love? Actual love he was feeling? No of course not, Tyrian knew what love felt like. He loved his Goddess. Loved causing chaos and killing.

So why did this feel so much different? So strong, that his chest ached?

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me

He swallowed the lump in his throat and he realized tears had begun to spill down his cheeks. He wipes them away with the back of his hand and chokes softly. No this couldn't be right…

But he looks back at her, looking so weak and vulnerable. 

He cautiously slipped out of bed, his tail peeking out under the hem of the stiff hospital gown he'd been dressed in and he managed to crawl into Althea's bed, gently, not wanting to wake her. 

As Tyrian settled down close to her all he could picture was her dying next to him. How calm she had been, even calming him. 

He gently touched his bandage and mused at how they'd have complementary scars.

Althea whimpered in her sleep and Tyrian slipped his arms around her as tight as he dared and let her head lay on his chest. Althea murmured softly and Tyrian heard his name on her lips.

"I'm here…" he whispered against her ear. "I'm right here."

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me

[keeroo92]

Hey! Got a prompt idea for ya! I have a great need for some soul crushing angst with fluffy good end with V & reader. Where V falls hopelessly in love with reader but thinks she doesn't want him (she does want him). He yearns so much for her, it hurts & consumes his thoughts constantly. He even acts on his want alone (NSFW) and feels guilty, but won't tell her his love for her until some breaking point. You know, that one-sided pining that ends being mutual drama but with lots of hurt first.

Sorry this one took a while, but to be fair it’s quite long. Set in an AU where V and Vergil are roommates. I hope this has enough angsty pain for you :D Also, this is my first work with a gender neutral reader, yaaaaaay!

Word count - 3,707

_________________________

V had a serious problem.

He couldn’t find his book anywhere.

Last night, he left it on his bedside table as he always did, and this morning he woke to find it gone. He checked everywhere he could imagine, from under the bed to the freezer, but to no avail.

Then he remembered his roommate’s new puppy.

Oh no…

He ran to the living room, already fearing the worst. His white-haired roommate was in the middle of his morning meditation, sitting quietly with his eyes closed. V normally wouldn’t dare to interrupt, but this was too important.

“Vergil! Where’s Yamato?”

Vergil opened a single eye to glare at V, his displeasure clear. He huffed, barely opening his lips to respond. “In my room, why?”

But V didn’t answer, already on his way to the bedroom in question, panic in his eyes at the idea of his most cherished possession on the paws of the destructive two-month-old Shiba Inu.

He opened the door and gasped.

Paper littered the floor, tiny scraps of it still floating down to land around the dog. She had the remnants of his beloved volume between her paws, a section in her mouth as she shook her head back and forth to kill it, growling.

“No! Bad dog, drop it!” V cried, stepping forward to tug what was left of the cover from her grasp. She released it instantly, Vergil’s hours spent training her with basic commands coming in handy. She looked away guiltily as he grimaced at the slobber coating the once pristine pages. V sighed and praised the horrible animal for its obedience, even though he’d much rather throttle her or shove her nose into the carpet. The damage was done, and punishment would do nothing to restore his book.

So, he gathered as many scraps as he could find, sealing them in a plastic bag with a heavy heart. As he grabbed his coat, he caught a glimpse of Vergil disciplining the young puppy in the living room.

“We do not destroy others’ belongings, that’s bad,” Vergil explained to the animal, and she cocked her head to the side as if she understood. V shook his head and left.

The bookstore down the street was one he’d never visited, content to read the familiar pages of his childhood treasure. He didn’t even know if they repaired books, but it was all he could think of to try. Inside the brick building he found a glorious sight – racks upon racks of books, too many to count. Several people were milling about browsing, a few sitting in overstuffed chairs and reading. It was close to silent, only the turning of pages and occasional scraps of conversation filling the air.

I should have come here long ago.

“Hi there! My name is Y/N. Can I help you find anything?”

V turned to face the bright and youthful voice. It belonged to a young person outfitted in a dark shirt and pants wearing a name tag. An employee of the store with excellent timing.

“Yes, actually. I need this book repaired,” V replied with a smile. He held out the bag and waited for assurance that it could be salvaged.

“Oh! Uh, well… I really wish I could help you, but that looks beyond repair. What on earth happened?”

V’s face fell, shoulders sagging in disappointment. He took the bag back with a slight frown. “My roommate’s dog happened.”

You grimaced in sympathy and nodded knowingly. “Maybe we can find another copy of it? What was the title?”

V gazed mournfully at the remains of his prized tome. He couldn’t believe it was so destroyed, beyond repair as you’d said. It felt like he’d lost a friend.

“The Complete Works of William Blake, but it was customized. Of great sentimental value,” he responded. You shuffled your feet and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“I see. Maybe some of it’s in good enough shape? A partial restoration might be possible, though some portions would be missing.”

V handed the bag back gratefully; even a partial repair would be of great comfort. You took a closer look and smiled, gesturing for him to follow you as you led him to a counter nearby. You pulled out the larger sections, the cover and a few intact pages. V noticed several scraps that belonged to the same page and assembled them neatly, using his memory to recreate the page with one of his favorite poems on it.

“Yeah, we could get about three quarters of it fully restored. It’ll take a few weeks, is that all right?” you asked.

“Thank you, that would be superb.”

V gave the details necessary and accepted the receipt, carefully stowing it in his wallet for safekeeping. He felt much better, though his heart still ached for the loss. There was no way to know which poems were lost, perhaps another copy would be wise after all?

He voiced the thought aloud and you smiled. He followed you to a section labeled as poetry, watching as you located the specific shelf of his favorite poet and pulled out an especially well-made version.

“Here’s my favorite edition. It has a genuine leather cover and a ribbon to mark your place, and it features this nice paper, I love the texture of it. Here, take a look!” you said, holding it out for his inspection with a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. He hadn’t noticed their color before, but now found it difficult to look away.

He shook himself mentally and examined the volume. You were right, the pages had a wonderful roughness to them that reminded him of homemade paper. The leather cover was a nice touch, too.

“This is perfect, thank you.”

“My pleasure! All set?”

He nodded and within moments, he was out the door with his purchase. When he opened the door and stepped into his residence, Vergil and Yamato were gone. He took advantage of the silence and made a cup of tea, settling in under his favorite lamp to read his new treasure. Yet the flowing script didn’t hold his attention and his mind drifted back to the color of your eyes and the sound of your voice. There was something about you that captured his interest, and he puzzled over it throughout the next few days.

It was less than a week before he returned to the bookstore. V tried to convince himself he simply wanted to find another volume to enjoy, but the truth was that he wanted to see you again. There was an odd fluttering sensation in his gut as he opened the door and saw you at the register, busily cashiering.

I’ll have to buy something, then.

He wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, passing by new releases and cookbooks without a second glance. The classic literature section caught his attention, and he selected a copy of The Divine Tragedy. The premise of Hell intrigued him, and the structure was poetic enough that it felt familiar. V headed back to the register with a smile, excited to speak with even briefly.

Over the next two months, this became his pattern. He spent most of his time reading, powering through several classics and anthologies you recommended. Every time he finished a book, he immediately returned to the shop to discuss it with you and ask for another. It was the highlight of his days, speaking to you. He learned that you were barely younger than him, that you had always loved book and stories and were writing an original of your very own when you had time.

He learned what made you laugh, what made you smile and what made you frown. He learned what music you liked and who you’d kill to see perform live. He learned everything he could about you, and with each new piece of information, you stole another piece of his heart.

His infatuation was so obvious even Vergil noticed, commenting that he smiled far too much and had a ridiculous look about him. V only laughed and went back to his book, lazily scratching Yamato’s chin. The dog grew on him; after all, if she hadn’t destroyed his book, he never would have met you. The partially restored volume now rested on a shelf near his bed, high enough so the dog couldn’t reach it and displayed proudly.

He turned the last page of Count Dracula and hummed contentedly, already reaching for his coat and keys when Vergil’s voice reached him.

“Mind if I join you?”

V froze. What if Vergil got in the way? He treasured his time with you, even though he knew you were simply doing your job and being nice to him out of professionalism. Vergil would shatter that illusion; he had no tolerance for willful ignorance. Yet to protest would only cause further issues, so he nodded.

Vergil smirked and donned his jacket, following V out the door. They reached the shop within minutes, and once inside V searched for you out of habit alone. There, you were helping a young woman find something. Vergil’s clever eyes tracked the same path, discerning V’s focus with ease.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting so absurd. Impressive,” the white-haired man said.

V blushed and looked at the floor, studying the geometric pattern of the thin carpeting as if it held the secrets of the universe. This was exactly what he feared would happen. He knew you weren’t interested; you’d not once asked for his phone number or shown any desire to see him outside your workplace. Prickles of guilt washed over him when he thought about it, about how he continued to intrude on your work where you could do nothing to impede him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied at last.

Vergil glanced at V and smirked knowingly. “Ah, forgive me. I must have been mistaken.”

V nodded and wandered away to browse, leaving Vergil to his own devices. The moment the poet was out of sight, Vergil strode over to talk to you with a charming smile.

“Hello, I was hoping you could be of assistance…”

 __________________

V did his best to avoid you, his guilt weighing heavily on his mind. Yet that day you sought him out, having seen him enter the shop and met his friend.

“V! Hi! What are you looking for today? Did you finish Dracula yet?” your cheerful voice called out to him as you approached.

“Oh! Yes, I just finished it this afternoon,” he said. V couldn’t deny the rush he got when you spoke to him, the familiar fluttering of his belly and the buzz in his mind.

“Great! Did you like it?”

He cleared his throat and nodded, making you beam with joy.

“I know just what you should read next, then! Are you familiar with the story of Frankenstein?”

V chatted with you for the next twenty minutes, though normally he spent over an hour in your company. He made his excuses and left to track down Vergil, finding him near the door with a smirk on his lips and a bag in his hand.

“This is a lovely store, especially the help,” he said when V reached his side.

“What?”

“That employee I thought you had a thing for? I’m going to see them tonight for a movie,” Vergil replied.

V felt his throat contract and swallowed against it. His stomach dropped to his knees and his hands trembled as he opened the door to their home, the urge to utterly destroy his roommate painfully strong. He ignored it, reminding himself that he had no claim to you.

“Ah. Have fun.”

He retreated to his bedroom and sighed. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, reliving every laugh and every smile as he undressed and got in bed. How he wished it was him taking you to a movie! V’s imagination ran wild, picturing everything he would do if he had the chance. He’d start with a hand on your knee, waiting until the film was at least twenty minutes in before dragging it higher to rest on your thigh.

A coil of heat settled in his belly at the thought, and one hand drifted to rest over his groin.

Next, he would lean over to whisper in your ear, something about how the darkness of theaters made excellent cover for explorations. His hand would move inward, dancing over your skin to rest on the tender flesh of your inner thigh. He imagined the way your breath would hitch and your hands would clench on the armrests, eyes glued to the screen as his fingers caressed their way higher.

V groaned and lifted his hips, rubbing his aching hardness into his palm.

You would spread your legs, granting him permission to continue. He wouldn’t even need to look, using skill alone to unbutton your shorts and graze his fingertips across your stomach. The sigh you’d make would be so exquisite, so lovely as he ventured under the fabric to touch your most intimate and sensitive skin.

He wrapped his fingers around his length, running his thumb over his tip and spreading the bead of fluid around as he pumped.

You would arch your back and bite your lip as he first felt your wetness; he’d need to time it well to disguise the moan slipping through your lips. He’d coat his fingers in your arousal, pulling them away to lick them and taste you. You’d taste so good, and he would lean over to whisper that, too. Gentleman that he was, he would share the morsel and allow you to lick his moistened fingers, let you wrap that sweet tongue around him and feel your lips engulf his flesh.

His breath hitched and he started lifting his hips to thrust in time with his pumping hand, heightening the pleasure.

He’d take his fingers away and resume his ministrations, finding all your most sensitive patches of nerves and stimulating them without mercy. Your eyes would roll back into your head as he stroked, his every move sending pulses of pleasure through you. He’d tease you, bring you right to the brink and hold you there. With another whisper, he’d instruct you to beg. And you would, keening his name softly and pleading for him to give you release. How could he possibly deny you anything when you asked so sweetly? His hand would be drenched in the proof of your fulfillment, and the two of you would lick it clean together in the dark theater. Perhaps he’d hold it in his cheek and make you use your tongue to retrieve it from his mouth?

“Fuck!” V growled, groaning as he reached his peak. Thick ropes of his cum shot out onto his thighs and stomach, but he didn’t care. He was too busy pumping through his intense orgasm. For a few moments, he lied there and waited for his panting to return to a normal breathing pattern. The guilt that had prickled at him before was joined by shame.

He rose to clean up the mess with a sigh, now fully awake again. It was difficult to keep himself from picturing Vergil living out his fantasies, and he tried to distract his mind by reading. The words on the page blurred, the story only reminding him of how you had looked so excited when you told him the premise. How wide your smile was as he expressed his interest.

I wonder how wide they’ll smile when Vergil makes his move.

With a growl of fury and frustration, V hurled the book at the wall with all the force he could muster. Images filled his mind of Vergil touching you, caressing your skin and knowing you more intimately than V ever would, and he ripped his bedroom door open.

He stalked to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey, downing it in a single gulp. He poured another and claimed a perch on the couch. Yamato joined him, her sympathetic eyes begging him to pet her. He smiled softly and did just that.

“At least there’s one female who welcomes my touch,” he murmured. Yamato whined as if to disagree. He took a sip of his drink and settled in to wait, knowing he would find no rest until Vergil returned.

 _______________

By the time his white-haired roommate opened the door, he’d finished his second drink and was just about to pour his third. The man had the nerve to hum as he took off his shoes, joining V in the kitchen with a smile as he opened the fridge to find a snack. Without prompting, he opened his mouth.

“What a lovely time we had. I’ll be seeing them again this weekend, I think I’ll go for a kiss then.”

V grunted and clenched his jaw as he returned to his bedroom to sulk. He couldn’t let this happen, refused to let Vergil do to you what he’d done to so many others. The poet finally found sleep as he resolved to do what he must tomorrow.

 ______________

He found you stocking the children’s section. You had a smile on your lips, a look of happiness in your eyes. V hoped you weren’t thinking about Vergil but couldn’t discount the possibility. He approached you and that same flutter ran rampant in his belly as you smiled at him.

“V! You didn’t finish Frankenstein already, did you?”

He sighed, searching for the right words to make you understand.

“No, I… I need to talk to you about something else. Do you have a moment?”

Your eyes narrowed in concern, but you nodded, following him to a secluded corner of the shop to talk in private. You waited for him to speak and he gazed into your eyes for courage.

“Vergil is not an easy man to be involved with. He will hurt you, if you let him. You should stay away from him,” he said. He tried to make his voice steady and earnest, but it came out less powerfully than he’d hoped. Your eyes narrowed even further as you listened, staring at him in confusion.

“Why are you telling me this? What does it matter to you?”

This is it.

V took a deep breath and opened his mouth as his hands trembled. His stomach was like a flock of birds, fluttering so much he feared he may lose his breakfast.

“It matters because I have feelings for you.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth popped open in surprise. You didn’t say a word, and as amusement filled your eyes V turned and ran, unable to face the rejection he knew was imminent. He fled outside, not planning on stopping until he got home, but a warm hand on his wrist stopped him in the parking lot. He turned to find you, bent over and panting as you held your other hand up in a gesture of needing to catch your breath.

They want to be clear. I cannot run away from this.

He waited in resigned misery as you finally regained the ability to speak, but no words came from your lips. Instead, you released his wrist and stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him to press your lips to his.

What…?

V’s heart flew into his mouth and he tugged you closer, cradling your precious form against his as he reveled in the softness of your mouth. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he’d been so sure you felt nothing for him. After a far too brief embrace, you pulled back with the most radiant smile he’d yet seen on your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks! I have feelings for you too, but I thought you weren’t interested!”

V smirked and rested his forehead against yours.

“So, Vergil…?”

“He offered to take me to see a movie nobody else wanted to see. I have no interest in him, at least not like I have in you,” you replied with a light blush.

He leaned in for another kiss, running the tip of his tongue over your lips until you opened to him, your tongues dancing as he moaned quietly. You tasted so much better than he could have imagined, and feeling your hands running up and down his back made him shiver in delight. He rested a palm on your hip and squeezed, his other hand occupied mapping your jaw. He had to pull away a beat later as blood rushed to his groin.

You grinned and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his as he caught his breathe.

“Why did you stop?” you asked.

V looked at the asphalt under his feet, his eyes passing over the bulge in his pants that was far too obvious for his liking.

“I liked that… perhaps too much.”

You laughed and reached out to feel his hardened length with a sly smirk, and he couldn’t restrain the whine at your touch.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who enjoyed it.”

He raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips, eyes glittering in amusement. “Do tell,” he said.

“Let’s start with dinner. I’m off at five, sound good?”

He lifted your hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. “Delightful.”

You turned to face the bookstore with a resigned sigh, and V escorted you back to the door. He didn’t want to let you go back to work, but knowing he’d see you in a few short hours helped. You gave him another kiss and released his hand.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you said, and stepped inside. He waved and started the walk home, and with every step he took the smile on his face grew wider.

[truesymphony]

@ironmarkrose​ sent red string of fate for a scenario where our muses are destined to.... Yuki & Ray

79.  Our muses are destined fall in love, but have to hide how they feel and only confess their love in their dying breaths

The first time Rachael saw Yuki was her first day of High School, he was gorgeous and charming.  Of course because of it everyone had noticed him.  Every girl was just crazy about him.  She couldn’t take two steps without hearing the murmurs.  It left her feeling curious and confused.  After all there was something special about him and it proved to be true in the weeks that followed.

She wasn’t sure what exactly was the tipping point for him but one day he was different.  She could see it.  Despite all her best attempts she had not managed to get close to him but then out of the blue he was friends with Tohru.  She could never say it but she was very proud of him for that.  It showed something new in him.  something she wanted to know.  However she was still just on the outskirts of the group so they never really interacted.

Things continued like that.  Their group of friends connected but yet they never did.  Still as time went on Yuki continued to grow.  Rachael could feel the change.  A sudden burst of confidence came through.  And then one day like magic it happened, she and Yuki overlapped.  They were both stuck waiting together for the others.  It was silent and awkward at first.  Her first attempt at small talk went over poorly since he didn’t even seem to notice or hear her. 

Feeling dejected Rachael looked down at her feet waiting.  Each passing second was absolutely grueling. In her mind she was already thinking of all the plausible ways leave without a big fuss.  She must have looked sick or something because Yuki was suddenly in front of her.

“Miss Lewis?”  his voice was almost melodic as he looked down at her.  “Miss Honda is late which probably means that she got distracted so we should just go on ahead.”  his smile was soft and reassuring as he took her hand.

--------

After that they two had bonded quickly becoming close friends.  They were always there cheering one another on throughout school.  Ray couldn’t have pictured a time when he wouldn’t be in her life.  Even as his life became more busy with council meetings and such he always made time for Ray.

Each night they would get together and chat about anything and everything under the sun as they ate junk food on Shigure’s porch.  

They were best friends.  Though their feelings for one another weren’t that simple.  They often danced a fine line where things were blurred.  Moments were they were so close and yet they felt so far.  Nagging doubts in the back of their mind plagued them in fear of the next step.  Constant what ifs and maybes ate away and then the constant teasing from the other Sohmas only made it worse.  Simply because whenever his feelings for her were brought up he would shut it down claiming they were just friends. 

For Rachael that probably was the most painful statement that could ever be said.  All the joking aside each new denial chipped away at her and slowly she began to give up her thoughts of what if he feels the same and changed to what if he doesn’t understand. 

Slowly but surely as time went on her doubts had been confirmed when he spoke to her about Machi.  She could see it in his eyes, he cared for her.  Pushing down all those feelings she mustered up every ounce of courage in herself and told him to go for it.  After all, he deserved to be happy even if it wasn’t with her.

--------

Her encouragement was all it took.  Sure enough Yuki began to pull away from her and soon they were like strangers again.  Only seeing or hearing about the other in a group setting and the gap only seemed to grow more and more until school was over.  

In three years she had met Yuki, became his best friend, fall in love and lost him.

When it was over university called and both set out on much different paths.  his leading to Machi and tech whereas hers lead to music and travel.  Eventually leading her back to her homeland, America.

--------

It was a few years before Rachael heard from Yuki.  This time it was simply a invitation in the mail.  A request for her to attend his wedding.  It was absolutely heartbreaking though she had been expecting it.  Maybe not like this but it was inevitable.  He had been seeing Machi for some time.  Still it didn’t ease her pain and that night she wept.

Despite her emotions, she managed to pull herself together so she could at least go and see him.  Being back there though left her with a whole range of emotions.  Good and bad.  It was stirring up ghosts of the past.

The first night back she spent the evening visiting her old stomping grounds.  She started with the school and by the end of the night her heart yearned to go home and she found herself at the steps of Shigure’s home.  She hurried up only to find it relatively empty. it looked like no one was home and she planted herself on the porch remembering all the late nights spent there. 

Some time passed before she was interrupted by presence of another.  Alert she quickly scrambled to her feet only to be greeted by Yuki.  His arms wrapped around and she fell into his chest with a squeak.

“I didn’t think you would make it.”  Relief was evident in his voice as he held his old friend.

“how could I miss it?”  out of instinct or greedy she buried her face against his chest hugging him with everything she had.  “Couldn’t miss the biggest moment of your life.” 

her words were muffled as his hand moved to the back of her head cradling her to his body.  She couldn’t see him or the tears in his eyes.  She could never know how much he had missed her to.  Pride had the best of both of them.

When they finally parted neither could get the courage up to actually look at one another so instead they sat down beside one another quietly just gazing up at the bright stars.  Just as Yuki noticed one shooting across the sky he pointed at it and turned to see that the redhead had fallen asleep.  her head tucked against his side. 

he carefully and swiftly moved gathering her up in his arms and to take her into the bedroom he once called his.  he laid her down before leaving for the night.  As much as he wanted to be there, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to stay.  if he did he may never want to leave and despite his desire he had made a promise and by tomorrow he would be betrothed to someone else.

The following morning Rachael woke to the distant sound of footsteps downstairs.  She sprung up and hurried to see Shigure fussing with his tie.  A smirk came to the elder Sohma as he eyed the redhead.

“Yuki...”  she began but he held up his hand to stop her.

“Come on if you don’t want to be late.  I know they won’t hold the wedding on our account.  After all it’s just a small ceremony at the estate.”  he urged as he pointed to the chair.  Laying on the back was a lovely dress no doubt that had been Ayame’s design.  

The silvery color was certainly was for Yuki and she found herself smiling sadly to herself as she picked up the garment to change in a hurry.

With Shigure in arm she went to the estate to see the small wedding set up.  It was small and cozy, imperfectly perfect.  Everything was all a little askew and she knew that it was done with the utmost thought and care for Machi.  Yuki had truly done everything to make this everything that his bride could have wanted.

Swallowing down the ache inside her chest Rachael quickly took her own seat just as everyone began to settle down.  It was not a wedding she was use to but she watched with fondness following the lead of those around her as she watched the happy couple.

when they stood up facing the small group of friends a few tears fell but she wasn’t the only one crying so she knew it didn’t look out of place.

The festivities continued throughout the night.  Ray put on a smile playing the role as she danced with her friends.  Hot and sweaty she began to cough.  She knew that was a sign it was time to call it and she left the party knowing it was time to get back to her own lonely reality.

-------

A few days had passed since the wedding and she was finally on a flight back home though she wasn’t feeling her best.  Ever since that night she could’t shake this feeling in her chest.  She knew she had opened some old wounds but she never remembered it aching quite like this and to add to the pain she couldn’t seem to shake this cough.  She must of picked up a cold.  Something from the change weather and everything else.

She just knew getting back to normal would be her only hope really.  Little did she know how wrong she was.

The annoying cough persisted and was becoming more and more often.  by the fifth day she had began to notice blood on the tissues she used.  It was a cause for concern but in the back of her mind part of her wondered if maybe it was for having those feelings for him.  Punishment for not truly being happy for him.

She just pushed it down ignoring the growing discomfort. Day after day for nearly a month until finally there was more urgency on her health as she coughed up something slimy and blue.  Her gaze shifted to the object and she ran her fingers feeling the silky remnants of a petal.

tears filled her eyes as she looked confused at this thing that came from her.  What was completely confused.  What on earth was it and why now?  

No longer able to ignore the neon sign something was wrong she reached out making some called.  She called the only doctor she really knew and trusted.  It seemed not matter how hard she tried she couldn’t truly sever the ties of that family from her life.

"A petal?”  Hatori questioned as if he was clueless to what it could possibly though deep down he knew.  He knew of the stories though never had believed them to be true.  Though given his own family he should have really know better.  “I need you to get an X-Ray right away and send it to me.”  he needed confirmation before he could proceed.

It only took a day from there for the puzzling image to be sent to the doctor.  The file confirmed his fears.  With the news there was two things for him to do.  First was to speak with ray and the next and much harder task was to speak with Yuki.  While ethically he could not tell him everything he could tell him some things.

The first call was the easiest.  “Ray?  Yes I got you results and I think you have truly shocked the doctors there.”  he said softly.  “What you have is a disease only found in Japan.  it’s called Hanahaki and it’s known as the one-sided love disease.”  he explained softly over the phone.  “There is no known cure for this.”

The coughing fits had only worsened more and more with each day.  She found herself now coughing up irises and gagging on them.  She could barely maintain herself long enough to listen to Hatori at all.  Tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t help but find it a poetic end.  “Thanks Tori-”  Her words were cut off in a major coughing fit.  Blood splattered the floor as another flower fell from her lips. 

“Rachael?”  His voice filled with concern before the line went dead.

his eyes softened as he moved to look up the number for Yuki.  It rang but there was no answer.

It seemed he was too late because Rachael had called.  when someone picked up it was a soft voice, unfamiliar to her.  Instantly she knew it wasn’t Yuki and she found herself unable to say anything.  She quickly hung up the phone just in time to avoid Machi hearing another fit of coughing.

Knowing that she would not see him again or hear him took the last bit of hope from her.  With no other choice she quickly took pen to paper and began to say all the things she had held in for so long.  When finished she sealed it addressing it to Yuki and leaving it with strict instructions for what to do with it when she was gone.

She laid down after that knowing despite the pain and everything else she wouldn’t have changed it.  She would have given anything for his happiness even her own life and she passed with a smile on her face.

By the time Hatori finally got ahold of Yuki it was too late.  He had already been notified by Rachael’s doctor that she didn’t make it.  He personally delivered the news to his cousin.  The look on his face was that of pure heartbreak.  He had seen that image far more times than he ever wanted to remember but no matter how much it hurt he knew he couldn’t take those memories away.

---------

Eight agonizing days had passed and Yuki had mourned the loss in his own way.  It was clear to everyone he was struggling and there was a new tension in his marriage.  That only got worse when Machi brought him a letter.  There was no return address but he knew the writing was that of Rachael.

He ripped into the envelop then he sat down and began to read.

My dearest Yuki,  I’m sorry to send you out of the blue like this.  I know I shouldn’t be the last thing I wanted to do was say goodbye to you.  If I couldn’t bring enough courage to say it any other way then I had to settle for a lame letter.  I don’t know if you will have gotten then news but it seems my time has come much sooner than I could have ever imagined.  I got this really awful disease from loving you too much.  I won’t bore you with the details because now I don’t think it matters.  All I really wanted to say is that I love you from the bottom of my heart.  I have for what feels like forever.  Knowing you was without a doubt the best part of my life.  There is not a second that I regret because you made me so happy that I quite literally can’t live without you.  I love you so much and I want you to be happy for me. Xoxo, Rachael

[the-blind-assassin-12]

I See You : Intro

A/N: What if things went differently after that fated carousel incident? Could Frank move on? Could Billy? Under what circumstances? What if Madani and Dumont weren’t around to complicate things? If you’re looking for canon...I blew it up...sorry. Also, an IMMENSE THANK YOU to @something-tofightfor​ and @my-little-dumpster-fire​ for their feedback, input, coercion and general badassery. 

Word Count: 1,863 

Frank sniffed and cleared his throat, looking out over the Hudson River, his gnarled, overly broken, deeply scarred hands gripping the cold metal railing. He watched as a ferry passed by, chopping through the dark water. An unremarkable sight to most; the river was full of ferries shuttling tourists and commuters to and from the bustling island of Manhattan, streaks of white capped waves cross hatching the cold black depths. But Frank saw something else when he saw those boats, heard something other than the crashing wake or the sounds of engines and propellers. When Frank looked out at what most people walked right past, too busy or rushed to stop and see, he saw ghosts. Memories. He saw himself with his family in another life, in another time. It was winter now, the harsh eastern winds whipping at his face from off the water. But it was always summer in his mind, the sun dancing in Maria's hair, warming her skin as he slid his hand up to cup her cheek. It was summer, the unbridled happiness of freedom from school and longer days and no bed time echoing in his kids' laughter as they chattered next to him, pointing at the Statue of Liberty. It was summer, but it couldn't be summer forever. Seasons change, and it was time he learned to change with them.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. Normally, instinct would kick in and muscle memory would take over and the person who belonged to that hand would be on the pavement before he ever saw their face. But even through the heavy woolen coat he wore, he felt the distinct weight of this particular hand and knew exactly whom it belonged to; the only person who could come close to undoing all of his violent conditioning. The only person who could see completely through it. Her thin fingers spread out against the rough fabric and he let his posture relax, if only slightly.

“Hey, Frank... you ready to do this?” Her voice was clear and confident, like always. She was never afraid, never backed down.

He turned to face her, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he met her eyes. A wisp of strawberry blonde hair blew across her forehead and she tucked it behind her ear with her free hand, the other still resting on Frank's shoulder.   Frank glanced once more out over the water, at the towering forms of New York’s skyline, and thought about what she was asking; about what he was walking away from. Was he ready? Was he ready to end his war against his past with anything less than absolute victory? Am I ready to walk away from you, Bill? 

She’d convinced him that he was; that he’d already handed Billy Russo as much punishment as he could. “You’re…what? You’re just going to keep all of this up until one of you is dead?” She’d asked him, that electric buzz in her eyes that she always got when she knew she was right about something. “What good would killing him do, huh Frank?” He’d grunted a quasi-response and looked away, but she’d taken his face between her hands and forced him to look at her as she continued. “He took everything from you, Frank, I get that. I get that, I do. But this isn’t an even playing field. He took your family, everything that mattered. He doesn’t have a family to take, Frank. But you still took everything that mattered. You took everything he built away- all that he was.” She shook her head and dropped one hand from his face as the other lingered on his cheek. He brought his own hand up, fingers circling her slender wrist. “Killing him takes the punishment away from him and puts it back on you.” She caught the flash in his eye that said he was conflicted about killing the man who had at one time been his brother, despite the unspeakable things he’d done since those ties had been severed. She knew how deep those old connections went; deep into every trench and bunker they’d sat dirty and bleeding in together, unsure of they’d make it through the night but damn sure that if one of them didn’t, neither of them would.

He recalled that conversation, one they’d had over dinner two weeks prior. They hadn’t talked much about Billy- or what Frank’s plan regarding him was- after the incident at the carousel, but she’d been thinking nearly non-stop about what she wanted and needed to say to the man she’d finally allowed herself to admit that she loved. She’d brought it up casually, through a mouthful of lo mien, gesturing with a set of chopsticks. “ You know, Frank, I’ve been thinking…” She’d gone on, bringing up the idea of the two of them starting over fresh somewhere far from New York- far from all the things that haunted him. Of course he was hesitant to agree. She knew he would be. But she was ready for every argument that he could possibly make; Karen Page always did her research.

“Karen, I can’t ask you to-“ he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a white cardboard container in one hand and a stubborn set to his eyebrows.

“You’re not asking me to do anything, Frank.” She leaned in, too, setting her container on the coffee table between them, eyes laser focused on his. “You telling me that I can’t make decisions for myself?” She arched one eyebrow, questioning him with a sharp tone.

Frank swallowed the friend rice he’d been chewing and wiped his mouth with the crumpled napkin in his hand. “That’s not what I’m saying, of course not.”

“Okay, then, next argument.” She kept her gaze steady as his flicked to the floor and back.

“You’ll never be safe with me. You’ve seen how shit follows me around, Karen, I can’t-“

“And you’ve seen that I can handle it when it does, Frank.”

She had a point and he knew it. Running out of things to throw at her, he brought up the one thing that he knew mattered most to her. “What about your career, huh? You’re just gonna scrap everything you’ve been working for? For me?”

Karen leaned back against the couch cushions and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as her eyes rolled of their own accord. “My line of work and the way I pursue it? Come on, Frank, you really think this is the first time I’ve had to relocate under a new name?” She leaned back in, the remnants of that laugh still pulling at the corners of her mouth. “You think a journalist got lucky enough to be born with the name Karen Page?” She cocked her head to the side, shaking it slowly. “And as for your other question…” he tone softened and she reached forward to wrap her fingers around his hand. “I think you know where I stand on that one.”

Out of ammo, Frank conceded to thinking about it, but even he knew that her points were bullet proof. He’d agreed a few days later, and they’d begun working on their next steps. Unsurprisingly, Karen had “a guy” that she got in touch with for their new identities, and Frank talked himself into contacting an old friend that he swore he’d never drag back into his world- David Lieberman. He’d need his particular skills if the plan he had in mind was going to work. Again, unsurprisingly, Lieberman promised to pull through. The last step included meeting with the back –alley “surgeon” Frank had left Billy with after their run in in Central Park- “See, Frank,” Karen had added to her argument, “If you were going to kill him, you would have done it then. You wanted him alive. You wanted him to remember.” – to drop off a pre-paid cellphone.

“You make sure that piece of shit lives a long life, and you give him this,” Frank said, thrusting the phone at the man before him.

“You wanna see him?” he asked, taking the phone and pocketing it in his apron.

Frank wrinkled his nose and clicked his tongue turning away. “Give ‘em the phone. I’ll know if you don’t,” was all he said as he walked away.

.  . .  .  .  .

Now, standing at the railing, watching the ferries pass and the towers scrape the clouds and people go about their lives; now, with Karen’s hand on his shoulder and her eyes searching his and her question in his ear; now, with his past on his mind and his future in his heart, he was ready to answer her question.

“Yeah…yeah, Karen…I’m ready.” His gruff voice cut through the cold air, and she flattened her forearm against his shoulder out of equal parts relief and support. She nodded and kissed him on the cheek before taking a few steps back to give him privacy, indicating that she’d be “right over here” when he’s done.

As soon as he felt her hand leave his shoulder, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone that looked identical to the one he’d left for Billy. He dialed a number and waited as it rang once, twice, three times…before a familiar voice picked up.

“Frank.” It wasn’t a question. It was a toneless, flat statement.

“You listen to me and you listen good, Russo. I let you live so you could have a good long time to think about what you did. I kept you alive so you could remember what you did to my family. Woulda been easier for us both if I killed you, Bill, but I didn’t. You’re gonna live a long life now. I know you. You survive. So that’s what you’re gonna do. Only you’re gonna do it right where you are. You’re gonna stay in New York. You’re gonna stay put. With all the things you lost, and all the things you took, and all the people who know your fucking face. And if you leave the city, Bill? I’ll know. You got it.”

A sardonic, painful, snarl of a laugh came through the speaker. “Yeah, Frankie. I got it.”

“Good. The phone in your hand? That’s your new best friend, Bill. You keep that phone on you and you answer it when I call. You don’t, and I’m coming for you. You leave New York, I’m coming for you. You think I don’t have eyes on you, Bill? I see you.” He snapped the phone shut before opening it again, twisting the keypad away from the earpiece to break the phone in two. He tossed one piece into the Hudson, and threw the other in a garbage can next to the rail. A happy, young family walked by just after he disposed of the phone, a little boy trailing a blue balloon on a string, bubbling with giddy laughter. He waited for them to pass by before joining Karen. She slipped her hand in his wordlessly, and the two of them turned their backs on the city, silently hoping they’d never need to return.  

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

@something-tofightfor @my-little-dumpster-fire @zaffrenotes

[lxnelymxth]

About the Book Keeper

Name: Lonely Pearl Specific ID: Pearl - ? ? ? ? ? ? Nicknames: Moth Pronouns: She/Her Height: Below Average Pearl height Age: 10,000+ Years Sexuality: Fluid / Doesn't have preferences

Affiliation: Previously Homeworld, Previous Owner Gem: Chest Weapon: Dagger Abilities: 

Shape-shifting Expertise - Lonely Pearl excels in Shape shifting to the point she could still consciously change her appearance while corrupted.

Photokinesis - Allows her gem to glow in the dark similar to a flashlight

Flight - Due to still being partly corrupted, Lonely Pearl still has her wings from her fully corrupted form which allow her to fly or hover though it is very exhausting to do for extended periods of time.

Standard Gem Abilities

Appearance

Personality

Lonely Pearl, due to being ‘alone’ for so long had become severely depressed. Often she will be pessimistic of outcomes or have little to no hope about anything changing. Being quiet and secluded from others she has no idea how to interact with other gems. Often fumbling with her words or saying things that make no sense she tries her best despite her current condition.

History

Lonely Pearl had spent her days serving her owner as best she could. Doing whatever task she was Asked of her owner no matter how unethical or how outlandish it may be. Experiments done in the Library she tended to each day, welcoming guests and keeping her Owner’s secret hidden from those who walk through the walls and warp through the pad.

Horrific experiments made, fusions that were made from the shattered remains of soldiers were kept in the darkest parts of the Library, in rooms that their screams couldn’t be heard. Gem experiments of many kinds were done here, but one fateful day would be the last.

Along with the the forced fusions Homeworld had been doing more with the Library as it gave promising results. Work on what they called Tolms started and while very few were made they had shown to be promising. Books that could record physical memories and walk among them like the reader had actually been there. It was a breakthrough in recording great moments, tragedy or otherwise.

Though after a few books had been created they started to gain a sentience, corrupting the memories that were stored inside their pages and many gems were lost to it’s pages as they were sucked inside the memories and forced to wonder them forever. It was unknown what kept the Gems trapped inside the book’s pages and word spread through the Library that they had become out of control. Eventually the Diamonds caught wind of this and seeing the books gaining a will of their own and twisting whatever memories there were inside were no use to any gem and so that operation was shut down.

With the Tolm project shut down the other trials as well started to slow, the operation her Owner was a part of was stopped and for some reason everyone turned to her. Looking at her for answers as to why the Diamonds lost hope in their only remaining project. The Pearl was given one last order, to Stay in the Library and keep care of it until someone would come back for her.

Years went by as she stayed there by herself. Happy as she could be after being left. Even with no other gem there, without whom she belonged to being there She had to keep at the task she was assigned.  Though work started to feel meaningless as every day that past on this planet felt like an eternity.

Going on for so long, alone, with no one else to come back for her she waited until a bright light engulfed her and she found herself....Wrong. 

Wrong in more ways than one, her mind scrambled to piece it all together but all she could grasp from the static was the Library. The library is where she must stay, where she must wait for those to come find her.

More days past, she found in her new, larger, form that she could create other small creatures that kept her company. Other remnants of experiments that were caught up in what had happened. Staying together in this corrupted form she tried to make it as much of her home as she could. Still forever bound to the place. The garden that surrounded the Library soon overgrew, taking the knowledge of years before within it’s wild hold.

Other creatures would come over the years, organic creatures visited her library, one of note being a very pink Lion. Consuming a book she had once known to be important but now could barely fathom what it’s meaning was after so many years of waiting. Little did she know that book was the last Tolm that Homeworld had kept in the abandoned Library, recording her time alone in this place.

It felt like an eternity, but every day she learned to control herself, to piece the picture back together of who she was and practiced every day trying to return to that form she had been. To be what who owned her had wanted because that would make her happy and then she must return. That had to be it, the reason she hadn’t returned yet was because Pearl didn’t look like Her Pearl. So each day she practiced and soon she mastered shifting her form, into knowing who she was, but pieces were still missing and she couldn’t hold her form for long. This must have been her punishment to be so close to returning to her home but held back by something she couldn’t understand.

That was, until one day. One day someone, or someones, had returned. They had come for her? To set her free? Another Pearl, it had been so long since she saw one of her fellow Pearls even if they were accompanied by two other strange organics. Even with their confrontation being negative she knew that someone had come for her, that her order had been fulfilled and so she Fled.

Present

Eventually, Pearl found her way to Beach City after much failure, and through the events of Change Your Mind was able to be Healed or at the very least, partially healed.

The Pearl found her Owner had been shattered in the war, gone for all eternity. With nothing else left for her she decided to stay on Earth due to her current form not being....right, she couldn’t bare to see anyone else when she was like this. Wondering alone she returns to the Library once more but this time she knows she can leave and she does when she wishes to Travel and see just what this new Era 3 has for Her and other gems like her.

About Library Nine

About Green Moissanite / Pearl’s Old Owner

[wolfie407]

A Statement

Hello everyone!

You may have come here in curiosity of what I posted on the Moon Guard Secrets Tumblr in regards to Niklos Adamant and “my involvement” with the horrific situation that has been brought to light recently.  First and foremost, as you can see, I generally do not use Tumblr so please so forgive my formatting.  Secondly, I must express that I am saddened, angry, frustrated, and just about every negative emotion in the book every time I think of this story.  To have me tied into it makes it all the worse.

As I said on the MGS post, I am Nevari, though I have been also known as Redmayne (whom Niklos has named me as being involved and yet again, not a shroud of evidence backing such claims) but more importantly, Janessa, the former GM of the guild, Whispers of Windrunner.  These current days I am pretty much off playing other games or being involved with different communities because of the results I suffered from the malicious slander I have endured from Niklos along with several other people.  This post is to simply back my own words up and well, hope that the community finally realize how scummy these people are.

Now, I will state this situation was about 2-3 years ago to my recollection.  Around that time, I was playing my death knight, Redmayne who unfortunately was a part of the Remnants of Lordaeron guild.  Ultimately, the guild was not a fit for me and I wasn’t in it for very long at all.  The situation that is currently being discussed at hand, well, I wasn’t even around for that.  In fact, I did not even hear about situation until my guild was targeted and sabotaged last year.

As Janessa, I was the GM, creator, etc of Whispers of Windrunner the day that void elves were released.  I took it as an opportunity to build something great for the community while giving myself a fresh start, looking forward to the RP to come.  I built and practically slaved over my guild from the ground up almost entirely on my own.  I did not expect to have my guild immensely popular and in demand right out the gates and I wasn’t prepared for it at all.  

While the numbers and popularity of Whispers grew rapidly, I knew I needed help and sought out officers who were willing to take on officer responsibilities.  Among them were a couple whom I thought I could trust and whom I felt I related to.  This couple is known to be Elysiae and Shandor/Mordren.  I never knew them, never heard anything about them, and I really enjoyed their company.  They supported me and showed they wanted the guild to succeed and throughout some of the growing pains, Elysiae gained my confidence.

This was short lived however.

Not long after I decided to make her my Co-GM, she had caused a LOT of drama with other members of my guild on ooc spectrums. I also over time lost faith in my officers because they suddenly became inactive or not around as much without notice.  I was literally slaving over the guild, prepping guild events, making a website, talking with other people to get RP going, etc etc.  When I am being pulled 16 different ways at once, it’s taxing and there were some days, I just wanted to do an RP away from everyone else as a break.  Apparently that isn’t allowed.

Anyways, an IC situation had happened with my own character against Baldassar who is known to be a member of SLP.  It later escalated where Maxen was involved along with many other people.  Everything that was happening was completely IC and I had even messaged Maxen during the heated RP if he was ok OOCly because I am constantly worried about OOC/IC crossing.  All seemed well and was fine.

Apparently not.

The next day, Elysiae and Shandor get Galmone involved, saying that I should step down as a GM because of the RP and the fact that I am, Nevari, and despite all the work I’ve done, me being GM isn’t good for the guild.  I believe the term they used was a “GM Wash.”  I dunno, this was a year ago.  Anyways,  I was absolutely outraged by this and said flat out it wasn’t going to happen.  No sooner did I end my Discord call with them, they went to undermine me and sought out to degrade me in unspeakable ways.

I have a recording of them doing this in the act.

Immediately Shandor/Mordren says that I was kicked out of Remnants of Lordaeron because I rp’ed raping a 12 year old to death.  At this time, it had been 1-2 years since I had even been a part of that guild... but neither here nor there needless to say this allegation was beyond shocking and hurtful to me.  Upon investigation where Shandor had heard this from, it was found out by my partner at the time it stemmed from Rennali.  

It doesn’t end there.

The recording had circulated.  This was my biggest mistake.  At the time, I felt I needed to defend myself by circulating it to show the extent people will go to bring someone down.  It backfired because people didn’t look at the context of my guild’s situation but the context of the rumor itself.  

With this allegation looming and the recording now spread, it of course reached “big boy” ears.  I adamantly fought the allegations, proclaiming my innocence to no avail to Maxen about all of this yet I was still punished for something I had no involvement with.  I was removed from all of the RP groups because of this even though there is not a single screenshot in the world that can even remotely link me to this incident.  Of course after Shandor and Elysiae’s antics, I immediately removed them from the guild.

I was punished because of the testimony which came from Berenal and Niklos.  Berenal came to Niklos asking about the situation and Niklos gave damning testimony which was 100% false and complete slander.

See following screenshot:

All of this caused huge rifts in my guild.  My friendships were torn apart, people left because of the controversy, my Rp partner at the time gave up on it and left.  After all of that emotional trauma I endured, I couldn’t move on and I relinquished the guild to a worthy member who offered to take the reigns.  I was beyond devastated and hurt in ways beyond imagining.  To be frank, I ended up having to go to therapy over this.

I do have regrets on how I handled the situation but I can’t exactly change the past.  What was done is done. 

Now, as far as the actual situation goes.  Supposedly Rennali heard this rumor from someone named Hranu but I have 0 clue about that side of the story.  Regardless, without a shroud of evidence to the claim, she chose to continue to spread the lie by talking to other people who ask about it “because she was told this therefore she can talk about it.”  Though this isn’t a post about my conversation with her afterwards, this is more about Niklos.

Niklos knew I wasn’t involved 100% and he took it upon himself to come up with a narrative to damn me.  Just recently, he posted yet again I am STILL involved with this situation yet I have multiple statements from various witnesses and people involved that I had no hand in it whatsoever.  

I also would like to point out the following discussion with Niklos.  Please note the following things:  1.  He approached me out of the blue because we had a mutual discord server.  2.  This conversation was during the hectic time and before my conversation with Rennali.  I put this in an imgur because I wasn’t sure how Tumblr would format it.

https://imgur.com/a/t3BjU4c

Anyways, why this didn’t come out about his enabling and defending of these individuals back when I was being wrongfully persecuted is beyond me but I am glad that there is a sense of justice in all of this.  I haven’t even been around much these days but what I find hilarious is that I logged on a character he knows me for and within literally 5 minutes, he was talking ill about me to a friend of mine, another screenshot I have mind you.

Though yes, I am glad to have Brady and others clear my name and I do hope Niklos gets everything that’s coming to him.  If anyone has any questions, please feel free to ask me on my Discord Wolfie#0156.  I seldom check this and felt that this needed to be said so I have my own peace of mind.