#that temple scene is a problem i've been grappling with for a while

[weirdponytail]

MIC!Arya and the Infamous Tarnag Temple Argument in IC Canon (AKA Modern Inheritance’s Take on Trauma, Religion, and Arya F***ing Apologizing)

Everyone gives Canon!Arya shit for the scene in the books where she gives Gannel shit in his own temple for having religion. I agree that it’s a bad moment for her character. I also feel it comes out of left field for Arya’s character up to that point but I’ll get smacked from here to the core mantle boundary for that by some of the fandom. I digress. This is very much not about my feelings on the canon version.

Let’s move on to how it might go for my Modern Inheritance!Arya and my version of events. 

A lot of what I write about in MIC is trauma related. Arya’s one of the easiest characters for me to write for in that regard for obvious reasons, and because I’ve shaped my mental picture of her over the years so she’s the one I have the most practice with. Please note that usually when I go to bat for Arya I tend to get my MIC version of her muddled in with canon, so I apologize for any sharp words, brow beating, etc. Anyway...what was I talking about? OH RIGHT, TRAUMA AND THAT WHOLE TARNAG THING. 

So just to further stress, this is Modern Inheritance/MIC right now. 

Arya’s coming off from a hell of a time. You don’t exactly process deaths of loved ones very well while being tortured, and while she’s juggling all that plus two near death experiences that occurred probably within a week of each other, Eragon nearly dying and his back spasms, the guy that tortured her and killed her best friend and her mate is dead but she didn’t get to have a swing at him, mentally preparing to face her queen/mother, the ‘a whole clan now wants to murder Saphira and Eragon’ situation, civil unrest in the city they’re in, just Brom being Brom, physical stresses from the whole *waves hands at previous paragraph*, she’s suddenly reminded that hey...the dwarves and humans have something that elves don’t. 

What’s that? Religion. And what usually comes with a religion? 

The concept of an afterlife. The general idea that when someone dies they have not really left. The comfort that if you pray, meditate, visit a grave, do something special to you/your faith then you can make a connection to your lost loved ones and friends. The promise that even though they’ve left this world, they’re still looking out for you. And one day you’ll see them again. The separation is only brief. 

And damn. Right then, that hurts for Arya. It’s like being kicked while you’re down. 

TMI and on but off topic: My mother died when I was 12. She had a progressive neural disease which pretty much destroyed her mentally and physically over the course of a year or so. During that year, there were a bunch of ‘spiritual’ people coming over. Not mainstream religion types, but still. 

I hated them with a passion. I hated them, the stuff they said about any type of afterlife or spirituality, prayer, the idea that the dead were not all gone, I fucking HATED that bumper sticker that says ‘if anything can go well, it will’ because ho BOY did that say something for the shit I was seeing and going through at the time. 

I had been agnostic bordering on atheist before but this was the nail in it for me. After mom finally died I was a real sourpuss/snarky little shit whenever religion came up. I insulted every religion any time it came up. I shut down anything having to do with my mom ‘watching over me’ or ‘being with me/us in spirit.’ 

It took me years to understand it. I was angry because I couldn’t bring myself to believe that after all the shit I saw, the pain my dad went through, that I went through, and the whole year of watching a bright, loving, intelligent woman that was my whole world turn to a fully paralyzed drooling mess with mood swings and no voice besides a pained moan...that there was any sort of god or spiritual energy or other bullshit out there. Because then why would it happen? And why to her? People say that ‘well if there is a god then why does war/famine/assault/torture/disease/etc. happen?’ but when it happens to you, and you were already teetering on the edge of ‘does it or does it not, maybe there is something out there…’ it’s like being smacked in the face with a shovel. 

I’ve got nothing against religion now, as long as it isn’t toxic or manipulative, etc. But I can see where Arya would be coming from. 

Because deep down, Arya sees what the dwarves have. This comfort in thinking that the dead aren’t all gone, and that all it takes is reaching out to them to share thoughts and feelings, and that you’ll see them again. 

And she wants that too. She wants it so badly. She envies their ability to think that way, to simply have faith in what they cannot see. She wants to talk to Fäolin and Glenwing (who is still alive in MIC but at this point she doesn’t know that) again, she wants to tell them that she misses them and that Eragon and Saphira exist and their deaths weren’t for nothing and tell them all the things unsaid...but no matter how much she wants to, she can’t get past everything thats happened in the past 6+ months and her own cultural beliefs. 

It hurts. She can’t think of anything else to say past the hurt and so she lashes out like I did. She doesn’t understand why really, but knows that religion and afterlives and all of it just make her...angry. Because what else could that cold rock in her chest be?

In MIC, Arya is not as stubborn when it comes to atheism or other cultures. Before the ambush, she frequently asked questions about the dwarvish religion, not exactly realizing that her questions could be considered more of ‘you dare question the faith’ than ‘so wait what if this happens? Do you still get to go to the afterlife? But what about when you feel a mind die? Where does it go?’ innocent type questions that come from curiosity. She still has the feeling that the money donated to religions could go to better places, but also realizes that sometimes the religions actually send said donations TO those places/the needy, and that structures/art/etc that were built long ago do kinda need upkeep. So instead of being a dick about it, when the dwarves at the temple bluntly tell her ‘would you shut up and leave already we don’t want to answer your questions’ she adds a cheeky ‘sure I’ll go as long as you donate to the Varden’s current fundraiser’ and goes on her way when they agree to donate.

But Arya still blatantly crosses a line by confronting Gannel rather sharply about her newfound feelings on religion while Eragon is there. She’s been following them as Eragon’s bodyguard (why the HELL did canon!Arya leave Eragon alone, even in a temple full of warrior monks, wheN A WHOLE CLAN WAS TRYING TO KILL HIM?!)  and she doesn’t even realize that she’s said anything until Eragon looks back at her like ‘ooooh nooooooOO ARYA WHAT THE HELL?! WAS THAT?!’ and she sees that the back of Gannel’s head is turning purple with rage. 

Eragon manages to extricate himself from it all and meet up with Saphira, and after a rather...heated...uh…”discussion,” Gannel finally flames that while Arya’s questions before pushed the limit, this was beyond unacceptable and asks what the fuck is wrong with her. Arya just storms out.

Arya comes back to the temple later that night, asks for Gannel, and pretty much kneels down and puts her forehead on the floor in front of him (MIC elves do this only when they realize they REALLY fucked up and use this stance as an open way of saying that they fucked up, apologize, and will accept the consequences) with a sincere apology for her earlier conduct. Honestly, her ear is still red from where Brom had twisted it when he caught wind of what she had done, but she’s not apologizing just because of that. 

She wants to learn how to pray. 

Not to a god or spirit, but how to talk to the ones she’s lost. The idea of religion giving a false sense of hope still hurts and angers her...but she’s realized that maybe there’s a reason why it can bring comfort. 

Gannel awkwardly explains that a way to get started is to simply speak aloud, as if talking to someone that isn’t there. When he realizes Arya isn’t pulling his leg or going to go off on him again, he decides to give her the ‘how to talk to dead people’ primer course over some mead and does his best to keep the more hard religion stuff out of it. As a priest/monk, he’s used to consoling people who have lost family and loved ones. He can pick up the signs easily enough...when the person isn’t ready to punch a hole in his fancy history wall. 

As she leaves, Arya apologizes again. 

And prods Gannel to donate to the Varden’s current fundraiser. 

[katsukisbeatingheart]

if you want

· - - - -

he has a bit of a difficult time being patient.

word count: 2143

a03

pt. 2

It was a little untoward but did as good a job as any.

A blush burst like confetti in a rage rash across his cheeks; and if you didn't know any better, you'd think the mighty Katsuki was actually maybe a little embarrassed.

"Well?"

He shifted in his place, trying—and failing—to maintain a façade of a complacent blasé boy just casually asking out a close friend.

"Close" was a bit of a stretch for you. Yes, you found him quite brash and obnoxious and a little insensitive; but you couldn't deny what he meant to you. At least, you thought highly of him, and you were sure you could tell him anything—but you weren't positive that was reciprocated.

Was he one of your best friends? Yes.

Would you even dare to ask him how he felt about you? No.

You! Didn't! Want! To! Ruin! What! You! Had! It had taken what seemed like ages for him to finally warm up to you, without, like, actually exploding—and if you think you'd run the risk of watching that go down in flames? You considered yourself an idiot.

However, unbeknownst to you—Katsuki thought you were the world. If he could put it to words and send them out through that angry trap cursing everything to hell—he'd say you were a force of nature. A worthy rival, a trusted partner, and a kind and wonderful friend.

Except all he's got are angry bees and a tornado in his brain, at all times. As such, anyone he admired, he felt the need to challenge. On all levels physical, he planned to annihilate them. Which wasn't necessarily the case, well, in your case.

Although, there were—a few physical levels— He shook that thought away. That's an idea for a later date. The blush flared. 'Much later.'

But really, he loved provoking you. Only because you're so cute and intelligent and warm and messy—so, so messy—and he got a serious kick out of that. You're complex and human and alive. Despite your faults, you refused to let anything stop you in the end game—you refused to let that keep you from what you wanted. He watched you grow, and evolve and adapt to those weaknesses, and suddenly the line between strengths and not began to blur. He even dared to call you one of his personal heroes.

Thankfully for him, no one in the class noticed for the longest time.

Unsurprisingly, Kirishima was the first.

Bakugo would casually watch you walk into the room, head in his hand, eyes trailing each step you took. A silent Ejirou, sitting beside his best friend minding his own business, would look up startled—at the now fuming boy with a hand to his temple, or rubbing the back of his neck.

"You alright there, man?"

"Stomachache."

The dear boy would stare on in confusion, but keep to himself—a man's business was his business. Puzzled, he witnessed Katsuki all but sprint out the door, noticeably more red than his usual complexion. Then, minutes later, Katsuki would return, smelling notably more of burning sugar, and looking like he'd run maybe half a mile. Kiri wouldn't question it. Until, after that, across the room you'd laugh at something Denki or Ochacko had said, and Bakugo would stand right back up again.

"What's wrong?"

"It's back again." And that'd be the end of that.

It became a reoccurring thing throughout the weeks, when finally—bewilderdly—Kirishima would come to the conclusion Katsuki had been stubbornly avoiding. He popped the question a few weeks later.

"You like someone, don't you."

Class had taken a recess, and his best friend took the liberty to gravitate toward him with a pencil and notebook in hand to work on an upcoming assignment—hopefully without being disturbed, which already wasn't happening.

Bakugo's whole body twitched. "I– you– what– you weirdo what is that supposed to mean?"

Kirishima blinked owlishly at his friend. He wasn't sure what to say next, as he honestly didn't think he'd get this far.

"Well... you've been acting kinda strange lately... around someone in particular..."

Bakugo raised his eyebrows defensively. He hoped that did a good job of masking his expression, because he suddenly had a pretty good idea as to where this was going.

"Well, I mean..." Kirishima dragged a path along with his eyes, coming to a stop at an angle, gazing at you covertly through his lashes. Katsuki rolled his eyes, trying really hard to keep his heart from racing anymore than it already was. He pointedly looked back down at his paper, a tighter grip on his pencil.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Eijiro couldn't keep a grin from crawling across his smug face.

"Oh, but I think you do."

After that, the secret couldn't keep to itself and the rest of the class began to trickle into the loop. Much to the surprise of everyone, they weren't all that surprised because they thought you're quite wonderful. But Katsuki? And a crush?

He couldn't help it; the guy seriously respected you.

With all of the determination rivalling theirs to become professional heroes, the class set to work on making this happen. They split up and rearranged classroom chores, made up excuses as to why they couldn't make it to study sessions where you and Bakugo attended, and shut out any outside obstacles—curfews, misplaced lunch seatings, Mineta.

"Oh, no, it's okay! You go ahead, I've got this," you chirped, in a positively upbeat mood. It was so absurdly warm, Kaminari felt guilty about moping the entire day to get out of his after school tasks. He'd managed to convince you he had a sick baby bird at home to tend to, before having to return to the dorms later tonight. Of course, that was a lie.

'It's for a good cause. It's for a good cause. It's for a good cause. It's for a good cause.' Denki knew he was a simpleton; but he'd be damned if he didn't have his moments.

"Are you sure? I'd really hate to trouble you, ya know," he offered, conjuring his best solicitous veneer, silently hoping he wasn't overdoing it now.

"No, yeah! Go on ahead; I heard you mention you had some personal things to take care of—you sounded really stressed about it." Denki had to will himself from openly clutching his chest and bursting into tears.

'Attentive and kind as always! I would expect nothing less of you.'

He opened his mouth to reply with something a little more heartfelt, but the burning gaze of Mina—probably stealthily situated peering through the windows facing the hall—stared holes into the back of his head. Kaminari's mouth snapped shut, and he took that as his cue to bounce. "Great! Awesome. Noice, thank you—" he rambled in an absolutely-not-guilty-at-all lilt. At the door though, he paused, throwing a suggestive smile over his shoulder, "—you kids have fun."

You wrinkled your eyebrows, not yet having received the eight new text messages from your other friends, conveniently busy with their own matters, as well.

After a while, Katsuki came to realize that this dancing around his feelings business was getting to be a little old. He felt pathetic, ordinarily used to tackling things head on. It took some serious convincing, on his part—but he knew what he wanted.

He tried small things, at first—microscopic, all considered, but this was Bakugo. Katsuki began propping doors open for you to pass by if you were walking together, like a real gentleman would.

He dropped snacks by your desk;"You forgot your money again, didn't you, dumbass?"

Always kept an extra water bottle on hand with your name on it; "Don't need you passing out during class, idiot."

He even gave you a little star sticker he had "found" on his way back from an orthodontist appointment; "It was stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I don't want it, you take it." It was in too perfect condition for that to be true.

By then he felt silly, recognizing that this probably wasn't going to be enough to get his point across; even if his friends, at least, noticed the small attempts (trying very hard to keep their mouths shut, all the while).

Katsuki didn't know where the fire was, but eventually he'd had enough of himself. This was going to happen, and it was going to happen today.

After an afternoon of mulling and seriously suppressed grins, Bakugo approached you with an imperceptibly wavering stride. He could launch himself into the heat of a fight no problem, but Katsuki Bakugo was not perfect—no matter how arrogant and prideful he was to admit that.

"Hey. Come practice with me."

You blinked in surprise, running your fingers along the hem of your uniform almost self consciously. It was nearing the evening, and you'd figured he would've joined everyone in studying back at the dorms.

'Although, I suppose sparring is a form of studying,' you reasoned with yourself.

'But... why me?'

He brought you to a secluded clearing, amongst the woodlands surrounding the campus. It wasn't so deep in as to hide evidence, but it was free enough from prying eyes and ears—he made sure of that, with a totally justified menacing promise on his classmates' lives. The overhang of leaves, swooping branches, and glistening waters—complete with lil frogs leaping amongst the moss—made this probably one of the best places he could think of for this exact situation. It was definitely the most fairy tale thing he had ever seen, which said a lot—his mother had dragged him and his father to TDL on many an occasion when he was a child.

Of course, he supposed it was just his stupid, newly developed romantic bastard brain romanticizing everything.

Setting the scene was the trick—because if that had gone wrong, then this would've been glossing near "patronizing", and would probably be much closer to a threat. In a way, you wryly wondered if it really was.

"Hey," he nearly barked. "Anyone home?"

You'd been standing in a silent stupor long enough for Katsuki to grow nervous-impatient. He'd put his hands in his pockets and kicked a little bit at the ground beneath him, trying to maintain some sense of calm. The glower in his eyes gave him away.

Your lips popped open in a fish face motion as you grappled for your words. "I–I– I'm really– I–" Your tongue stumbled over itself. Katsuki gave you an expectant look and you felt your cheeks turn a brand new shade of red.

"I just– I can't– I don't–"

You tried so hard, trying to find the right words. They stubbornly refused to appear, wrestling with each other in the deepest part of your gradually dizzying consciousness. Your hands trembled, waving around aimlessly, making a point you hadn't even begun to form yet.

Bakugo suddenly felt as though he had hit a wall. An invisible one, because this was exactly the thing he was trying to avoid. It grated at his ego and he was slowly getting more and more agitated, his deepest insecurities writhing under his skin. You stuttered and gestured, wringing your slicked palms on your clothes.

After a long, silent moment, his face fell into a stone cold stare you'd never seen directed at you before. It morphed from uncertainty, to a grimace you associated with catching a bad smell, and into an equable scowl. Your heart thumped to the pit of your stomach.

A forcibly steady breath through the nose. "Fine."

He straightened his posture.

"I get it."

The dark look stared down at you, something you were sure was one of his special moves. "It's whatever. It doesn't matter, anyway." Except it did.

Your eyebrows knitted, your pulse quickening. "Katsuki, I– that's not–"

Biting back a sneer, Bakugo seethed through his teeth. "Save it," he hissed. "I don't want to fucking do this if I'm the only one giving my all."

The shock that came to you is what you assumed being struck by lightning felt like. You wanted to laugh, and tell him that was such a Katsuki thing to say in a situation like this; but he was already stomping away, taking strides to double yours.

"Katsuki, wait!" You called out, feeling coming back to your legs, and made to move in after him. "Katsuki!"

His silhouette gradually disappeared into the leaves that had initially felt so welcoming, like they promised something.

You went as quick as you could, mindful of the roots and pockets of earth at your feet.

As Bakugo slid out of reach, his words were a deafening whisper in the hushed world around you.

"Just—leave me alone."

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{a/n: hello!! i have this split up bc i wanted to write a few more scenes under the same premise... plus!! having something extra to do gives me a little more motivation & inspiration to make new things; thanks for reading<3}