#thank u this made my evening

[spacenintendogs]

For the doodle requests, snotlout and astrid making out gross pls🥺 I love them in your art style..

say less

[luxaofhesperides]

Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically. 

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries. 

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham. 

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not. 

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native. 

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up. 

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras. 

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them… 

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is. 

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all. 

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything. 

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own. 

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort. 

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking. 

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight. 

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds. 

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight. 

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground. 

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading. 

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes. 

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924. 

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom. 

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds. 

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found. 

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling. 

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything. 

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface. 

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air. 

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes. 

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist. 

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch. 

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure. 

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping. 

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts. 

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow. 

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions. 

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen. 

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!” 

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before. 

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it. 

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER. 

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.

[densewentz]

more dreamling dad au bc thats just what i do now apparently i like lazy afternoon naps and so do our boys

[foolsocracy]

I can't help but notice you haven't posted any angst in a while and I'm suspicious

whipped this one up just for u anon

[beeduoo]

wonderful

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - 38

PREV

If it weren’t for the fact that he and Riko had stumbled across a truly traumatizing video of his birth that they had watched secretly in Tetsuji’s office when he was away on a business trip one weekend Kevin would believe that he was born with an Exy racquet in his hand. But the image that is seared into his retinas to this day has proven that he came into this world empty handed.

That doesn’t change the fact that Kevin has spent the majority of his life utterly and completely submersed in Exy. He was trained as a Raven, he was court, he was a champion as both a Raven as a Fox and if he had his way he’d leave college with more Championships under the orange and white than the black and red.

Exy was everything in the world to him.

He could overlook many personality defects if someone brought something to the Court.

Apathetic five foot nothing who was more likely to stab him than shake his hand? Well, he’s the best goalie that Kevin had ever seen in his entire life (and that was saying something).

Tight ass who has anger management issues and will not shut the fuck up about his girlfriend now that he’s not even allowed to have? Well, he is a very solid backliner who has excellent ball handling skills (even if Aaron keeps telling him to stop saying it like that or why he keeps yelling that he’s straight).

Overly touchy, too emotional, will not shut the fuck up about his fiancé in Germany? Well, he is a very solid backliner who is great at rebounds (Kevin doesn’t get why Nicky gets mad when he says that or why he brings up Erik).

Guy who actively dislikes him and is dying for any chance to punch him and also being overly attached to his friends? He’s a great enforcer on the court and had the stamina to play far longer than the other two backliners (Why Dan always said “yeah he does” whenever Kevin commented on Matt’s stamina he will never understand, and he also doesn’t want to.)

Suspicious kid from Millport with a mouth that could strip paint and a past so shrouded in mystery that it even had Andrew perking up in interest? Well, he’s the fastest Striker in the game and the only person that has ever kept up with Kevin’s obsession with the sport. (There was the minor downside that he was the son of the Butcher and almost died before the championships, but Neil pulled through.)

He tolerated all of them and now they’re his best friends.

There are some who he does find personally objectionable but so long as Jack and Sheena manage to continue to be good on the court he doesn’t care about the many many faults in their personalities. They’re his teammates, they aren’t his friends.

He accepted that he might not like any of the others that came onto the team. For the most part he had never given a shit about before the Foxes, content with his brotherhood with Riko even if it wasn’t…perfect. Then he became friends with FF and FF had done him a truly large favor and Kevin wanted to pay that back the best way he knew how. Through his truly infallible health advice and through perfectly crafted smoothies.

Then Daniel appeared with the truth that FF truly met all requirements to be a Fox and Kevin tasted his own smoothie for the first time.

He considered both revelations to be equally upsetting.

Still…

FF was one of the best dealers Kevin had ever had the pleasure to be on Court with. The man knew his position well and interrupted offensives with an enviable ease that made Kevin wish to possibly strap some sort of device onto him and figure out how he did certain things.

It wasn’t that far off to believe that a man raised in the same environment as FF could possibly have similar talents and since Lisa fucked off back to some small town cult they really did need a good sub. Sheena was a good offensive dealer but they had games coming up where defense would be imperative and FF did not have the stamina for a full game and likely would not for quite some time considering he’d be recovering from being stabbed.

So, he’d defended Daniel’s right to try out.

At first, he had felt vindicated. Daniel kept up quite well during the initial warm-ups. Kept pace with Jack, Sheena, Aaron, Andrew, and Nicky. Kevin had been bringing up the rear mostly to make sure that Andrew didn’t stab the guy during warm-ups.

Then it was time for the first precision drill.

The other thing about how Kevin was raised is that he was raised surrounded only by the best of the best. The Ravens were at the top of the Collegiate hierarchy. The National Court used their stadium for practice.

The worst Exy that Kevin had ever seen in his entire life up until the moment that Daniel took hold of an Exy racquet was still only the worst team in Collegiate Division 1 Exy.

Then Kevin watched the ball go so wide that the entire court went silent.

All of the drills that followed were as bad, if not worse.

Kevin felt himself start to vibrate with anger the longer it went on. He started to shout corrections at Daniel but the younger man merely rolled his eyes, “I think I know what I’m doing.” He would say before pointedly proving that he did not.

Kevin only realized nearly an hour in that he had wasted his entire practice shouting himself hoarse at the actual waste of human life that was Daniel Stanton.

Kevin could accept being bad at Exy and having an inoffensive personality. Kevin could accept being good at Exy and having a bad personality.

Kevin could not accept being bad at Exy and having a bad personality.

Coach Wymack called the practice to an end and Kevin thought that he’d manage to keep his anger mostly inside (he is ignoring the near hour of practice he spent screaming directions) when Daniel decided to deliver the Coup de Grace.

Sweat soaking his bangs, panting, and without a single thing done correctly (even the way he was currently holding his borrowed Exy racquet set Kevin’s teeth on edge) the man had the gall, the gumption, and the absolute AUDACITY to come up to the coach.

“So, where do I sign?” he asks.

Kevin sees red and unleashes hell.

***

This was the most fun Andrew has had at a practice since he started having to come to them.

The look of embarrassment on Daniel’s face as Kevin accurately tore into everything he did wrong on the Court and every personal failing that Kevin could home in on. His attention shifted away to FF sitting in the stands near the University official who was shaking her head at the obvious poor showing. The University may have wanted Daniel around to spruce up the Fox’s marketability but even they couldn’t let someone so obviously awful onto one of their few Division 1 teams.

FF was sat sipping one of Kevin’s god awful smoothies looking completely unshocked by Daniel’s showing.

Kevin turned his attention to FF, “You said he was good!” Kevin points at the freshman as he continues to sip the drink.

Andrew interrupts, “He never said he was good.” He remembers the conversation so exactly and there are few things he loves more than having the opportunity to rub it in Kevin’s face when the man is wrong, “He said ‘Daniel has always been athletic’ never anything about him being good.” Andrew reminds.

Kevin whips back around to Daniel, “Have you ever even played Exy?” Kevin demands.

“I didn’t think it’d be hard to pick up.” Daniel argues crossing his arms defensively.

It sets Kevin off on another furious rant.

Andrew had thought that FF didn’t have a mean bone in his body and he’s quite pleased to have been proven wrong. The thought that FF had let Daniel get all the way into embarrassing himself in such a way?

Andrew had to give him props.

“How does it feel getting to watch this idiot crash and burn?” he asks coming to the glass.

“Really thought he could manage it if I could.” FF says with a shrug that has Aaron bark out a laugh.

“You really figured?” Aaron asks coming to stand next to Andrew.

FF just shrugs again, “I mean I also started not knowing how to play and now I’m on a pretty good team.” He says as if FF starting as a child not knowing how to play is the same as someone walking in demanding a spot on a college team.

Nicky lets out a laugh.

“Oh, Smithy I could kiss you.” Nicky laughs and makes his way towards the Court entrance to likely do exactly that moving past a Daniel who was so red in the face with embarrassment and anger that he looked as if he was about to turn purple.

Andrew tuned in.

“…small pond. The only reason you ever felt like you were worth anything is that Smiths was too nice to put you in your place before now!” Kevin was probably talking about medium-sized fish in a small pond but Andrew didn’t really care to know.

“Are you going to let him talk to me like this?!” Daniel finally turned to Wymack.

“Kevin, you shouldn’t talk to the public like that.” Wymack says without a hint of chastisement in his voice.

Kevin still straightened at the reminder, “You’re right. Sorry coach.” Kevin sneered at Daniel, “Get off the court before you taint it.” He hisses.

“You’re really not going to sign me?!” Daniel demands.

“Why would I?” Wymack asks with a raised brow.

“You took a chance on John!” Daniel points towards FF.

Andrew watches as Wymack’s face does something he’d rarely seen it do, it goes utterly and completely cold. “I don’t take chances with my kids.” He spat, “I give my kids a second chance. Get the hell off of my court.” He hisses.

Daniel’s face purples further before he stomped off of the Court.

“Don’t you dare walk off with that racquet! It’s worth more than you!” Kevin shouts after him and Andrew in that moment realizes that Daniel is going to do something stupid.

And FF is on the other side of the Plexiglass with only Nicky at his side.

It’s like watching a train crash.

Daniel might say something, but Andrew doesn’t know. He sees Neil rushing as well, his sense of danger always well-honed but Neil had been in Captain mode in the moments before walking some of the sophomore and freshmen through what they had done wrong.

Neither of them will make it in time.

Daniel throws his racquet, and he throws it right at FF barely 5 feet away in the stands.

The Racquet blows past FF’s head and Andrew lets out a breath.

Then before it could crash into the seats behind him and break FF’s hand wrapped around the shaft of the stick and stopped it’s trajectory.

“Your aim really isn’t getting any better by not listening to Kevin’s advice.” Smith says as he twirls the racquet in his hand so that the net was on the ground. “Also, don’t break the equipment, like Kevin said it’s pretty expensive.” He says.

Daniel let out a primal scream but where Andrew had stalled out to watch the miraculous catch Matt Boyd had not. Daniel was tackled to the ground by the backliner, “Absolutely not.” Matt said with a scowl.

“Smithy are you okay?” Andrew hears Nicky ask.

“Yeah, why?” FF asks as if he hadn’t just been attacked but considering everything that Andrew had seen it wouldn’t shock him if Daniel’s attacks were just par for the course back home for FF. “The racquet looks okay too.” He adds.

“Coach Wymack,” The University representative made their way down looking flustered at the outburst of violence.

Obviously not someone who regularly watched Exy or paid attention to their team.

“This is why I wanted absolute control over who does and who doesn’t get a shot here.” Wymack hisses pointing at Daniel as he struggled under Matt.

“You have our sincere apologies for this.” She says looking at Daniel, “He didn’t… we thought he’d be good for the team’s culture but it seems like we may have misjudged-“

“That guy just tried to take Smithy out!” Nicky interrupts.

“I told you he was dangerous.” Neil adds.

“Can someone call campus security?” Matt asks from the ground, “This jackass keeps aiming for kidney punches and I would like to not be pissing blood during winter break.” Matt requests.

“O-of course!” the University representative says fumbling for her cell phone.

Andrew looked at Matt and figured that the backliner had a handle on that particular mess at the moment.

He made his way over to FF and Nicky who was checking over the freshman.

“Nice catch.” He says.

FF shrugs, “It’s my racquet he was borrowing.” He says, “I didn’t want to get a new one.” He adds.

***

FF watches as campus security took custody of Daniel as he continued to spit and scream. There are talks about pressing charges, but FF just wants Daniel off of the campus and away from him. It’s Jack of all people who says that getting a restraining order is a great way to make sure Daniel stays the hell away from him and FF nods consideringly.

Honestly, he’s still mostly in shock he managed to catch his racquet the way he had. His reflexes weren’t quite up to snuff since he’d been trying to catch the netting, but his hand only closed around the shaft.

Embarrassing.

He really hopes no one teases him about his slower reflexes.

“He needs to be charged for assault at least.” Kevin hisses as they watch the security officers take Daniel away.

“It’d be attempted assault.” Aaron corrects.

“He assaulted my eyes with his Exy.” Kevin insists.

“If that counted as assault, don’t you think I would have pressed charges for all the times I have had to see you dance at Eden’s?” Neil asks. “Also, you’re the one that insisted he try-out.” He reminds.

“Smiths told me he was good!” Kevin screeches.

“No, we’ve been over this Day. Smithy said he was athletic.” Nicky reminds. “Are you going to do what Jack suggested?” he asks turning to FF.

“I’d like to see significantly less of Daniel.” FF admits.

“You know he did actually commit assault, if I pee blood I’m making Kevin go buy me pads.” Matt says.

“Whatever.” Kevin says as they continued to make their way back to the dorm to get ready for the day.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[mail-me-a-snail]

good night citizens get a netrunner in their stocking this christmas

textless under the cut!

merry christmas everyone ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜!!

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[ell1th3gh0st]

But I love my friends, they make me feel alive again [Laugh / Cry - Bears In Trees]

But I love my friends / They make me feel alive again / Or at least they remind me / That I'm not even dead [Reverberate - Bears In Trees]

inspiration in the tags, thank you bears in trees i love you <3

fun fact: i, like previously, sketched this on my phone very quickly, but this time I actually knew what I was doing!!

[froggyrights]

Happy New Year to my beloved dtblr!!! I have so much fun hanging out here and posting about our silly minecraft guys with you all 🫶 I hope 2024 brings you all of the good things you've been wishing for 💗💫‼️

[chernabogs]

ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol

so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia

i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭

if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨

Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm

EMPTY CHAIRS

Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow) WC: 4.2k :))) Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time. Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times) Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.  It knows no law, no pity.  It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Their family may be cursed. 

For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass. 

The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move. 

She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest. 

In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him. 

But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.

“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”

The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery. 

With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend. 

Naturally, it didn’t last. 

The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.

“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.

“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response. 

“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.” 

___________________________________

The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell. 

When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions. 

“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg. 

“Always,” was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia. 

But the empty seat felt an ill omen. 

___________________________________

The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.

The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well. 

When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose. 

Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had. 

Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all. 

___________________________________

The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.

But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.

For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development. 

Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again. 

There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself. 

First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something. 

Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands. 

Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.

And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more. 

___________________________________

Grandchildren are the best reminders  of the beauty and innocence of childhood.

When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling. 

“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white. 

A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach. 

The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body. 

“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”

Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope. 

She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her. 

But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far. 

___________________________________

In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind. 

She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more. 

When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?” 

Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands. 

“And this is mother?” 

Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble. 

Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?” 

A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.” 

Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.

When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.

She should visit them more often now. 

___________________________________

She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers. 

Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.

She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe. 

The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this. 

She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book. 

“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress. 

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.

“The gardens look atrocious.”

Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”

“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”

 “Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included. 

Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection. 

She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?” 

“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.” 

She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees. 

Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.” 

Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”

“Oh? And why is that?” 

Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.

“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”

“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.” 

Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”

A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.” 

Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away. 

“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.

[medicalunprofessional]

juggalo nemesis (…evil augustus) and horror punk butcher. Very important i think

[khattikeri]

maybe a controversial opinion but while i really love jiang cheng as a character he is deeply self-centered as a person. and seeing people fight tooth and nail claiming he isn't, or is just misunderstood, or that he has genuine valid reasons to be selfish when plenty of other characters make the difficult choice to forego status and opportunities for what they believe is genuinely right to do (read: wei wuxian, wen ning, wen qing, lan wangji, jiang yanli, mianmian, etc.)

it's just odd to me. especially if they're talking about the novels.

mxtx didn't give jiang cheng the name "sandu shengshou" as a quirky coincidence. there's a REASON she named him & his sword after the 3 poisons of Buddhism (specifically ignorance, greed, and hatred). it's crucial to the story that jiang cheng is NOT selfless and that wei wuxian IS.

it's important to accept that wei wuxian is, by their society's standards, not morally gray; he represents several Buddhist ideals in direct contrast of jiang cheng and multiple people attest to wei wuxian's strong moral character, which is a lot of why jiang cheng even feels bitter about him to begin with.

it's crucial, because by the end of the novel jiang cheng realizes the extent of this and begins to let go!

the twin prides thing wasn't jiang cheng wanting them to 100% mirror the twin jades. he does care about wei wuxian, but he wanted wei wuxian to stay his right hand man, in part the way wei changze was for jiang fengmian.

and if there's one thing you can notice about wei changze in the novels, it's that literally nobody talks about him. he is only ever mentioned when his cool mysterious mountain sect wife cangse-sanren is mentioned, or (even more rarely) when they discuss him as a servant to jiang fengmian. regardless of jiang fengmian's own feelings, wei changze was considered lesser to him and didn't seem to outdo him, since nobody's out there years later still waxing poetry about wei changze's skills.

it may not be the only thing jiang cheng wants out of a twin pride dynamic, but it is a big part of it. regardless of his parents' intentions in taking wei wuxian in and treating him certain ways, this twin pride right-hand man thing is what jiang cheng has felt owed since childhood. he gave up his dogs for wei wuxian, people gossip about his sect heir position with wei wuxian there... jiang cheng wants the reciprocation of what he views as personal sacrifices.

he is ignorant to the depth of what wei wuxian must've suffered for over 6 years as a malnourished orphan child on the streets. he hates how wei wuxian's intelligence, witty charm, and cultivation abilities are naturally stronger than his own. he does care about wei wuxian a lot and want them to be together as sort of-brothers, sort of-friends, sort of-young master and sect servant...

...but if it's between that unclear (yet still caring) relationship and being able to save himself just a little bit more, jiang cheng nearly always manages to clam up in the face of danger and choose the latter, which ultimately benefits himself most. maybe it's a stretch to call that sort of thing greed, but it certainly isn't selfless.

there are of course plenty of justifications for this. it's his duty as sect heir. his home and sect was severely damaged by the wen attack and subsequent war; he had to protect himself, etc.

but doesn't that prove the point?

wei wuxian may be charming, but in terms of pure social standing, he is lower and far more susceptible to being punished or placed in harm's way by people who have more power and money. to protect wei wuxian, yunmeng jiang's long-term head disciple and semi-family member, even in the face of backlash and public scrutiny would've been the selfless thing to do. this is what wei wuxian does for the wen remnants in the burial mounds.

jiang cheng does not choose this. it's not even an unreasonable choice for him to make! nobody else in the great clans is doing such a thing, stepping out of line to take on a burden that could weaken them in the long-run. wei wuxian himself doesn't hate jiang cheng for it; he lets go of these things and focuses on what good he can do in the present.

jiang cheng thinks further into the future - what would happen to him if he continued vouching for wei wuxian and taking his side? what about jiang cheng's face, his sect's face? would wei wuxian even care to reciprocate somehow? everyone expects him to cut off wei wuxian for being dangerous, for threatening his position, for...

do you see what i mean? to call jiang cheng selfless for falling in line with exactly what people expected him to do after the war is not only wrong, it's foolish.

"but they faked their falling-out!" okay. why fake it to begin with, except to protect jiang cheng and the jiang sect's own face? is that selfless? who does it ultimately serve to protect? wei wuxian canonically internalizes the idea that he stains all that he touches, including lan wangji, and agrees to the fake fight because he doesn't want to cause the jiang sect harm. regardless, it eventually slides into a true falling-out, and in the end jiang cheng is more or less unscathed reputation-wise while wei wuxian falls.

that isn't selfless. it's many things! it's respecting his clan and his ancestors, it's making a good plan for the future of his sect and cultivation... but it isn't a truly selfless in the interest of what's right rather than in the interest of duty and what's good for him and his family lineage.

that brings me to my next point: even though wei wuxian hid the truth of the golden core transfer, jiang cheng spent nearly 20 years believing that the golden core "renewal" he was given was a birthright gift of wei wuxian's from baoshan-sanren, an immortal sect teacher of wei wuxian's mother's and a martial elder to wei wuxian.

of course we all know that's a big fat lie, but jiang cheng believed that wei wuxian gave up a critical emergency use gift to him for decades! he was lied to, yes, but jiang cheng immediately agreed without even needing to be convinced. the light in his dead eyes came back with hope the moment wei wuxian even said baoshan-sanren's name. he accepted wei wuxian's offer to give that up to him and take it via identity theft without missing a beat.

with how mysterious and revered baoshan-sanren is, that's obviously not a light sacrifice to just give up to anyone, no matter how close they might be to you. pretending to be wei wuxian to take the gift could even be considered dangerous. what if she found out and got offended? could wei wuxian be hurt by that?

jiang cheng doesn't even hesitate. wei wuxian is the one who mentions that if jiang cheng doesn't pretend to be him, the immortal master could get angry and they'd both be goners. and funnily enough, the day they do go to "the mountain", jiang cheng is the one worried and suspiciously wondering if wei wuxian was lying to him or had misremembered.

of course they've both been traumatized like hell prior to this point. but still: it speaks to how broken he was at the moment as well as to his character overall.

i digress: jiang cheng "gets his golden core back" via what he believed was a gift that should've been wei wuxian's to use in serious emergencies. rather than use it for himself, wei wuxian risked his own safety and gave it to jiang cheng... and jiang cheng still ends up embittered and angry, believing that wei wuxian is arrogant and selfish.

if he truly views them as 100% brothers and equals with no caveats, why would he think that way? it's not like he needs to grovel before wei wuxian for doing that, or to reciprocate... but this is what i mean when i say jiang cheng feels he is owed things by wei wuxian. wei wuxian's actions hold a very different weight in jiang cheng's mind, and jiang cheng himself doesn't ever act the same way, except once.

is it wrong for him to feel like he is owed something? it depends. many asian cultures, including my own, feel that a person owes their family in ways that may not make sense to westerners. for example, it's considered normal for a child to owe their parents for giving birth to them, or to other caretakers for feeding, clothing, sheltering, educating them, etc.

however, something like verbally saying "thank you" or "i'm sorry" to family is considered crazy- why would you owe that? you're supposed to inconvenience your family; saying thank you or sorry is the sort of thing you say to a stranger or acquaintance. i get half-seriously lectured by my elders on this a lot even now, even though they know such phrases are just considered good manners in the US.

this muddies up the idea of wei wuxian being jiang cheng's family vs his family's charge or servant even more. jiang cheng wants wei wuxian to be close... but ultimately doesn't really choose to use what power he DOES have to protect wei wuxian. he considers himself still owed something that in his mind wei wuxian flagrantly never repays.

this isn't even getting into how despite spending a majority of his time with the yiling patriarch he never once noticed that wei wuxian stopped using any spiritual power-based cultivation. even lan wangji, who met them far more rarely, realized that something was wrong and that wei wuxian had taken some sort of spiritual damage, hence the "come with me to gusu".

of course manpain is fun and i'm not immune to the juicy idea of them reconciling and talking things out... but jiang cheng is deeply mired in his own desire to be "above" wei wuxian in multiple ways, and doesn't realize the extent of wei wuxian's actions, the intentions behind them, and the consequences wei wuxian knowingly faced for them.

to not recognize this about jiang cheng, especially in the novels, is really revisionist if you ask me. i reiterate that i really do like him a lot. he's flawed, angry, traumatized and has poor coping mechanisms, an overall fascinating character... but he is not selfless nor ideal, and i seriously draw the line at people saying he is.

wen ning shoves this all into his face at lotus pier to disastrous results. it is the reason why jiang cheng's a total mess at guanyin temple, and the reason jiang cheng ultimately doesn't tell wei wuxian about the fact that he ran towards the wens on purpose.

for that one last act of his to have really been selfless, he needs to not seek anything in return. he did it purely because it was right to do to protect someone else. if that means wei wuxian never finds out about it, so be it.

that moment that ended up causing jiang cheng irreversible harm is not a debt that wei wuxian owes him. it hurts, but no matter how bitter it is, that realization is so important to him changing in the future.

[waterfallofspace]

Anyone else not able to say 'bless you', either because it feels too personal, embarrassing, slightly erotic or a mixture of all of the above-

Buuuuuut also whenever an event interrupts the conversation, you feel so much more awkward not saying anything/commenting on it at all, and so you wish you could just... say that phrase, or have some other thing that makes sense to say to just- shrug it off???

[httpiastri]

i'm supposed to be on my break but i couldn't not come on here and post at least something about osc's birthday so

pls have my possibly all time fave oscar pic 💗 happy birthday to the love of my life, so thankful to have him in my life (even though it's just through a screen) 🫶

[arczism]

Your Male V is gender goals

Sincerely,

A transmasc

omg please anon i specifically created him to maximize my gender envy. atp i can't stand him 😭