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monamourbladie · 8 months

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The Man of My Dreams - Blade x Reader (chapter 3)

Who said that the man of your dreams couldn’t be real? After having dreams of the same mystery man for 2 weeks straight, the reader sets off on a journey to find the mystery man known as “Blade” that had been occupying her mind every single night. After realizing that he might actually be a real person, and not just a man she made up, she will finally discover parts of her past that had been long forgotten and locked away. (Originally posted on AO3, which can be read here. Also posted on Wattpad, which is here.)

Chapters Masterlist

warnings: slow burn, slight enemies to lovers themes, fluff, HEAVY angst throughout the entire story (not kidding.), soulmates, memory loss, mutual pining, eventual smut, pwp, renheng themes

The first few hours on the Xianzhou Luofu were nothing short of wild. Welt, March, Stelle, and Y/n had already got into fights, rescued a Foxian lady named Tingyun, and were on their way to meet with who they assumed to be the leader of the Luofu - Madam Yukong. Welt had finished discussing with Tingyun before she disappeared to go speak with her, leaving the four of us outside and left to our thoughts.

"So! This place certainly is very interesting, huh?" March quipped, hopping up to sit on a ledge, swinging her feet. Stelle simply nodded. She was a woman of few words, that was for sure... "It certainly is March. My theory is that Kafka must have let us in. I don't see any other reason as to how the Jade Gate just... 'let us in,'" Welt commented. Y/n nodded in response as she pulled out her necklace from under her shirt, starting to caress the pendant tightly.

Her pendant was always something that brought her comfort. It was something she had her entire life, but she never exactly knew where she got it from. She always wore it - it went with her everywhere she went. Welt looked up and turned to Y/n, taking note of her unusual silence. Truthfully, she barely had spoken a word this entire journey thus far. Even Stelle was commentating more than Y/n was.

"L/n, is there something on your mind?" Welt asked. She looked back up at him and shook her head no. "No. Just thinking about Dan, that's all. Didn't he mention this is his home planet?" Y/n asked, dropping her hand from the pendant. Welt looked at the pendant and furrowed his brows for a moment. "Yes... it is," he muttered, walking over to Y/n. He moved his hand to gently raise the pendant with his two fingers, "Where did you get this?" he asked. Y/n glanced down at the pendant and shrugged, moving to take it off of her neck, letting him hold it. "It's just something I've always had, not so sure where it came from exactly. Why?"

Welt took it carefully from her, examining it. "This is a Jade Pendant. It's... from the Luofu." His eyes widened. "How did you get something from the Luofu? Did Dan give this to you?" March got intrigued and hopped off of the ledge, coming over to look at it. "Woah! It's so pretty! I never knew you wore this!" Stelle smiled, "It is very pretty." Y/n was confused as to how it was from the Luofu. "Uh... no, he didn't. As I said, I'm assuming I received it from my parents or something. I wish I remembered them," she sighed, looking at it from Welt's hands.

Welt hummed, "This pendant has a slot in the bottom. Have you noticed that?" Welt holds it up to show her. She looks at it and nodded at him, "Of course. I've noticed it years and years ago, but I don't know why. I guess it was just made that way," she replied. "These come in pairs. Its pair is somewhere out there, and it's safe to assume that whoever gave this to you has the other half," he said. Y/n furrowed her brows as she looked up at him, "What are you implying?"

"I'm not trying to imply something. I'm just stating a fact. If my memory serves me right, these are Vidyadharian wedding pendants. They keep these even in death to ensure that they would reunite with their lover in their next life," Welt explains. March and Stelle immediately share a "what the hell?" glance at this. Y/n let out a soft laugh, "Okay, now that's sweet and all, but has nothing to do with me," Y/n shook her head with a soft smile, taking the necklace back from Welt. She put it back around her neck as Welt shrugged, "That's what it is. Perhaps you received one with proper intent, or perhaps you were just given the pendant because the original owner thought it pretty."

"I definitely think I'd remember if I was a Vidyadhara," Y/n challenged with a smirk at him as she crossed her arm. "Humor me and keep the necklace on display," Welt said, noticing her about to hide it under her shirt again. She let out a sigh but obliged, letting it rest over her clothes for once. As the conversation died, Tingyun opened the grand doors of the Palace of Astrum and waved for the Benefactors to follow her inside. "Madam Yukong is ready to speak with you all~!" she said with a smile.

The four walked up the steps, and Tingyun immediately cooed, grabbing Y/n's wrist, "What a beautiful pendant!" she comments. March could've sworn she saw Welt crack a smirk as they entered inside. Y/n let out a soft laugh, "Thank you, Miss Tingyun."

"It truly is gorgeous... you must be a very lucky wife, huh?" Y/n's eyes widened at her question and she immediately shook her head, "No... I'm not- I'm not married," she stammered, surprised at how fast a Luofu member took notice of the pendant. It must

be a huge deal here if Tingyun immediately took notice of it. "You aren't? Then why do you have a Jade Pendant?" she asked, slightly tilting her head as they walked inside. Y/n shrugged, "I've just... always had it. I don't know why."

"Did you reincarnate, perhaps? Maybe you got separated from your partner." Y/n let out a light laugh at the idea, "Yeah, as if. Like I told Welt - I'm perfectly human. It's just a coincidence, that's all it is." Y/n followed Welt closely as Tingyun thought to herself, trailing behind them.

I should keep a close eye on this woman. There's something different about her from the other three.

"Greetings, guests from the Astral Express," Madam Yukong said kindly. "Tingyun has informed me of the purpose of your visit. Receiving guests isn't normally one of my responsibilities, but since you know about the Stellaron and have stated that you want to help the Luofu, I thought I should at least meet you in person and politely decline your proposal." The group was stunned, as Y/n spoke up, "Decline?! Why?"

"The Xianzhou Alliance knows what a Stellaron is and is more than capable of handling it ourselves. We have been around for over 8000 years and weathered countless dangers and crises. While the situation is serious, we have more than enough resources to spare. Outsider help is not needed on this occasion.You are guests from afar — there is no reason for this matter to concern you... Am I making myself clear?" Yukong replied. "From what we've gathered, the influence of the Stellaron can still be contained. If we can locate it in time and contain it, it's possible that we can restore any space — and any individuals — affected by the corrosion. We have experience in preventing Stellaron disasters, and we've only come here to lend you that experience," Welt answered her.

"I've said this and I'll say it again: This is an internal affair of the Xianzhou Alliance and there is no need for the Astral Express to get involved. I decided to arrange a meeting with you as a gesture of respect, but my decision is final. Additionally, I forbid you all from leaving until we can determine where your loyalties lie," Yukong replied.

"Don't be too harsh, Yukong. If this gets out, the whole galaxy will think the Alliance has forgotten how to treat our guests," a hologram of a tall man walks up from behind Yukong. "It's very unlikely that the Express has joined forces with the Stellaron Hunters. They are mortal enemies, after all. Apologies for interrupting your meeting. My name is Jing Yuan — I'm the general of the Cloud Knights here on the Luofu." Yukong huffs, turning to him annoyed, "General Jing Yuan, this is an eternal affair for the Luofu-"

"I fully agree with you, Helm Master Yukong, this is indeed an internal affair. I am sorry, guests of the Astral Express. There is indeed a Stellaron on the Luofu, but I'm afraid I cannot accept your kind offer to help resolve the issue. This is a Xianzhou matter, and it is our responsibility to handle it. Of course, it would be inappropriate of me to let you return without something to show for it. While I cannot accept your help concerning the Stellaron, I do have a favor to ask," The General smiled at the Trailblazers. "It is an honor to meet you, General. What is it that you require?" Welt replied. Yukong walked away from the group, seeing no need to stay in the conversation with her command overruled.

"Ah, a matter that requires capable people such as yourselves. We captured a member of the Stellaron Hunters a few days ago, who goes by the name of 'Blade.'During our investigation, the Divination Commission — the department in charge of intelligence processing — intercepted a transmission sent out by his accomplice, Kafka, who has managed to hide aboard the ship. As for where that transmission was destined..."

Y/n felt herself freeze up. Blade?! Like, the same Blade Dan warned her of - and the one from her dreams? Oh boy. Tingyun immediately picked up on her nervous demeanor and lightly nudged her, "You alright?" she asked, whispering. Y/n nodded quickly with a light smile, "Y-Yeah. Just... heard a lot about him, that's all," she lied. Tingyun didn't know any better and rolled with her answer, nodding with a smile at her.

"... It is this Kafka that concerns me. The longer she stays on the ship, the bigger the threat she will pose.Since the Stellaron Hunters lured you to our ship, we shall move with the current. You are hereby authorized to do as you deem fit on the Luofu, with the goal of bringing Kafka out of the shadows and under our control. Doing so would clear the misunderstanding between us, reveal the true intentions of the Stellaron Hunters, and help us understand their connection to the Stellaron burst. What say you, my Astral guests?" Jing Yuan asked.

Welt turned to his teammates, who all simply nod at him in agreement. He smiled and turned back to the General, "Alright. We accept," he replied. Jing Yuan smiled at them, "Perfect. The Loufu never fails to repay those indebted to them. I wish you luck in your journey to find Kafka. I shall notify Yukong that all intel is to be shared with you, and that our best personnel are to aid you in your search. If there's anything the Sky-Faring Commission or the Cloud Knights can do for you during your stay, don't hesitate to make it known." With that, Tingyun rest her hand on Y/n's shoulder, "I'm so excited that we'll get to work together! You guys are so fun!" she said excitedly. Y/n smiled brightly at her and nodded, "It's gonna be great. Hey - do you think I could speak with the General again?" Y/n asked her. Tingyun shrugged, "His hologram is still present. You can try."

Y/n nodded and walked forward to him, not noticing Welt, Stelle, and March walking toward a corner of the room. She cleared her throat, "General...? May I speak with you?"

The hologram came back to life and he smiled at Y/n. "Hello. Y/n L/n, is it? What may I help you with?" Jing Yuan asked her. "I... wanted to ask you about Blade." Jing nodded for her to continue. "Blade is wanted by both the IPC and the Alliance. I'm afraid I cannot comment on his file." Y/n frowned, "Okay, well... This might sound weird, but... I've been having dreams with him. And I believe our dreams are connected telepathically somehow." Jing Yuan looked at her with furrowed brows, intrigued. "Is that so...?"

"Yes, sir. I've had these dreams for the past few weeks. We are both fully sentient in them. He holds conversations with me and can remember things I've mentioned in the past. Before, we could never share our names or anything personal, but last night I learned his name for the first time. He said it was Blade, and that he was in a very lonely place. And when I woke up... I had a spider lily on my bed. I know it's connected because I've seen him surrounded by spider lilies before. I've also never even seen one in person until last night."

Jing Yuan listened intently, thinking about everything he was hearing. Suddenly, he started to smile once she had concluded - as if he knew something she didn't... "I see. And you're certain this is the same Blade we're looking for?" he asked. Y/n nodded. Suddenly, Jing Yuan's hologram morphs into someone familiar. "Is this him?" he asked. Y/n gasped when she saw it change into Blade - her Blade - looking identical to her dream. "Yes... that's exactly the man from my dreams," she said, shocked to see him so perfectly recreated in front of her. That was him without a doubt.

The hologram flickered back to the General. "This is a very interesting development. I'll let my people know about this. If you have any more of these dreams... please contact me." He paused for a moment, "You said your name is Y/n. Correct?" She nodded in response. "Yes, sir." Jing Yuan smiled lightly again, nodding to himself. "Alright, Miss L/n. Again, thank you for telling me." His gaze moved to her pendant, which confirmed his suspicions. "Good luck on your journey. I'm afraid I have other matters to attend to right now." His hologram disappeared, leaving Y/n alone. She sighed heavily, crossing her arms as she walked over toward her friends again.

So Dan was completely right. Now she felt like an idiot for practically falling in love with a man in her dreams, who just so happened to be a wanted criminal - because of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?

She held onto her pendant as she walked, wondering why Jing Yuan seemed so intrigued with her. All this trip brought her so far were questions without answers. Hopefully, by the end of it, at least the question of how Blade and her were connected would be answered.

#honkai star rail #hsr #blade #blade x reader #blade hsr #blade x reader hsr #yingxing #yingxing x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Tedious Joys - Chapter 7 -

- Ao3 link -

“You could have mentioned that your father likes to kiss his saber,” Lan Qiren hissed at Nie Mingjue, who flailed helplessly as both of them tried to whisper outside of Lao Nie’s hearing – a task only rendered possible from the fact that he was currently scrubbing his hair extremely vigorously to get rid of all the dirt and grime, Lan Qiren’s extended hand firmly on his back. The jade pendant was back to hanging at his waist, since hasty experimentation had revealed that the physical contact with Lan Qiren was the key aspect, although the jade pendant seemed key as well - removing it appeared to make the contact less effective.

“He didn’t, did he? Are you all right?” Nie Mingjue asked, and he looked so serious and earnest about it, like he was going to march up to his father right then and there and challenge him over Lan Qiren’s honor or something if Lan Qiren implied that he should, that Lan Qiren’s irritation faded away at once.

“Only on the hand,” Lan Qiren assured him. “He didn’t take any liberties.”

That last part was more of a joke than anything else – however intimate Lao Nie was with her, Jiwei was still a saber – but Nie Mingjue looked alarmed. “You’ll say something if he does anything you’re uncomfortable with, right?” he asked anxiously, and Lan Qiren stared at him.

“Nie Mingjue,” he said stiffly, attempting to quell a little bit of possibly hysterical and definitely inappropriate laughter. “Is there something you need to tell me about you and Baxia…?”

“Tell you – oh! No, no, nothing like that,” Nie Mingjue said, turning bright red. “That’s not what I meant, Teacher Lan! Really, I swear!”

Lao Nie poked his head out of the water briefly to look at them both suspiciously, but accepted it when Lan Qiren shook his head at him and turned back away.

Nie Mingjue waited until his father was distracted to continue whispering. “I just meant – our sabers may be our partners, but it’s not…it’s not an equal distribution of authority, you know? In the end, they’re the weapons and we’re the masters.”

Lan Qiren frowned, finally understanding the nature of Nie Mingjue’s concern, and it was much more astute than he’d initially thought. “I see. So if Baxia refused to cultivate with you…?”

Nie Mingjue shifted uncomfortably from side to side. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, personally,” he said. “She’s my friend. But A-die’s always saying I’m too soft on her, that I need to take her more firmly in hand, so…I don’t know. It’d definitely be a few days before he forces the issue – uh, that is – I mean – not that he’d ever –”

“It won’t come to that,” Lan Qiren assured him. “A few days will give us enough time to come up with a plan, and at any rate I would not allow him to mistreat me.”

Nie Mingjue looked relieved, which was a flattering if perhaps not entirely accurate reflection of how strong he believed Lan Qiren to be.

“A good night’s rest will help more than anything,” Lan Qiren continued. “For him, and for you. I suggest you take advantage of it at once – actual sleep, not meditation.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again. “But he’s going to be all right?” he asked, anxious. “Eventually?”

Lan Qiren glanced at his friend, happily humming some bawdy song and appearing likely about to break out into actual singing at any moment, and felt a pain in his chest at the thought of what might be necessary.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I really don’t know. We’ll do everything we can for him.”

Nie Mingjue accepted that, taking a deep breath and centering himself, then striding away – he would probably go and do some work before he actually retired, rather than actually go straight to sleep, but Lan Qiren did not call him out on it. There was still a chance that Nie Mingjue would end up as sect leader, and then he wouldn’t have a choice in it at all.

After being tormented briefly by some rather off-key singing and extremely dubious lyrical choices, Lan Qiren found himself bundled off to Lao Nie’s quarters and into his bed, with Lao Nie curling up quite happily against his back.

“There are rules about judging other people,” Lan Qiren mumbled, staring at the wall and ignoring the feeling of Lao Nie’s chin on his shoulder. It was pointy, and they didn’t quite fit – Lan Qiren was the just barely taller of the two, although Lao Nie was broader, and his arms were heavy around him – and all in all Lan Qiren was not especially enjoying the experience of sharing a bed any more than he had any of the previous times it had been forced upon him by necessity, luckily small in number. “I am currently breaking it. I will need to think of a suitable punishment for myself later.”

“Judging me, sweetheart?” Lao Nie said into his ear, sounding amused. “What did I do?”

“Sleep in the same bed as an extremely sharp and angry blade, apparently.”

“Only when you’re angry at me,” Lao Nie said, completely shameless. Lan Qiren really didn’t know why he’d been expecting anything different, really. “You know, it’s much easier to hold you in my arms when you’re like this, all soft, even if your hips are a bit knobby. I like it.”

Lan Qiren sighed.

The next morning, Lan Qiren woke at the prescribed time and performed his morning ablutions in the time before Lao Nie woke, settling himself down beside the bed to play calming music and think about what could be behind Lao Nie’s current fixation on believing that he was Jiwei.

He thought it must have something to do with the jade pendant he had cultivated on Lao Nie’s behalf. Indeed, now that he thought about it, that might in fact be the problem – he had cultivated the pendant, not Lao Nie, and he had done it using Jiwei’s spiritual energy. A Nie saber had only one master, but he had apparently won enough of Jiwei’s respect for her to allow him access to some part of her; just as Lao Nie had intertwined himself with his saber, so to had Lan Qiren, albeit unknowingly and at a distance. There was certainly no overly intimate sharing of qi between them, but they had an undeniable connection. That might explain it.

There was also the ongoing mystery of why the pendant burned so fiercely. It had always been reactive to Jiwei’s anger, full of her spiritual energy and spillover rage as it was, but Jiwei was gone – shattered. Whose energy was powering it now? And how could it maintain such a high level of energy, so hot as to damage someone like Lan Qiren, who while not martially inclined was still a powerful cultivator in his own right?

He had more questions than answers.

Unfortunately, he did not have a great deal of time to find answers. If Lao Nie’s condition persisted – he hoped that it wouldn’t, that his friend would wake knowing who Lan Qiren was and not in a horrible rage, but he wasn’t optimistic – they would need to find a solution, and fast. Lao Nie was the unquestioned master of his sect and even he’d only managed to leave it behind for a month and a half before his duties forced him to return; Lan Qiren was a substitute for his brother, a pale and inferior custodian put in place solely to fill the time between the generations, and his sect elders would never let him forget it. There was no way he would be able to stay away so long.

And if he left…

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie murmured in his sleep, which had become restless. His face had gone from a neutral expression to a frown, twisted in anger and pain, and when he opened his eyes, they were once again red. The music was not helping. “My saber – Jiwei…where is my saber?” Lao Nie struggled to sit up. “Where is it? Give her to me!”

Lan Qiren stopped playing and reached out his hand, interlocking his fingers with Lao Nie’s as if they were back once again to all those years ago when he had been a slow, stuttering child and Lao Nie a kind young adult, taking him in hand to show him the basics of night-hunting without worrying about him falling over his own feet.

He watched as the red slowly faded out of Lao Nie’s eyes – not gone entirely, still there, a thin pink film that seemed as though it could be blinked out of existence.

He sighed.

“My friend,” he said. “I am going to need your help with this.”

“Anything,” Lao Nie said, then paused and amended to, “Anything that won’t cause undue harm.”

“It involves research.”

“…one could argue that that would be undue harm to my ability to enjoy my free time.”

Lan Qiren shook his hand lightly. “You are in need of healing. Do you understand what I am saying?”

The humor slowly faded out of Lao Nie’s face.

“You had a qi deviation,” Lan Qiren said bluntly. “The one you’ve been afraid of, the one you always knew was coming – it happened. You went mad, years before your time. But you did not die, and so there is still hope…but I will need your help. I will need you to try to get better. I cannot do this without you.”

Lao Nie looked at him, lips pressed together tightly.

Lan Qiren waited, patient. Whatever the reason for it, Lao Nie regained much of his clarity when they were in contact – and if he could think, he could be an ally in this. He would have to be.

“The strangers weren’t strangers, were they,” Lao Nie said abruptly, and it wasn’t a question. Lan Qiren looked at him. “A-Jue…I was the one who did that to him, wasn’t I? I was the one that hurt him. That’s why you wouldn’t tell me about it yesterday.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

Lao Nie looked away, angry – real anger, this time, and entirely self-directed – but it was only a few moments before he collected himself and looked back, his eyes bright with tears but fiercely determined. “What can I do to help?”

“For now, answer my questions, no matter how unusual,” Lan Qiren instructed, and Lao Nie nodded. “First question: who am I?”

“…Jiwei.”

They were still there, then, although Lao Nie sounded much less sure about it than he had the night before. Lan Qiren fumbled for the pendant at his waist. “Can you sense the spiritual energy in this? Whose is it?”

Lao Nie reached for the pendant and focused. “Also Jiwei.” This time, he sounded more confident.

“The energy in the pendant exceeds what I previously put in there,” Lan Qiren said. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie frowned down at the pendant. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Have you cultivated with it recently?”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows, think that that would be rather difficult without Jiwei around to transfer energy from. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“There’s something strange about it, that’s all.” He shook the pendant lightly. “Familiar. Same as you, but not; same as me, but not. It wants to fly.”

Lan Qiren stared at him blankly.

Lao Nie shrugged and scratched at his beard. “What did A-Jue say about it?”

“…Mingjue?” Lan Qiren asked blankly. “Say? About what?”

Lao Nie blinked at him. “Well, he’s the only other one with a similar pendant, right?”

Actually, Lan Qiren had made one for little Nie Huaisang, too – he used it as the base of his fan tassel, transferred from one fan to another – but it wasn’t really relevant to him yet, weak cultivator that he was. But that was a good point: in his fear for Nie Mingjue’s health, his worry for his safety, he had forgotten that Nie Mingjue was the closest thing they had to another perspective on the connection between pendant and saber.

Lan Qiren frowned at his oversight. “I’ll ask Mingjue to join us.”

Nie Mingjue looked better already, even if Lan Qiren’s heart hurt at how cautious he was around his father, at how Lao Nie could barely stand to look at the colorful bruises littering his son’s face. “What can I do?”

“Take this pendant,” Lao Nie said, holding it out.

Nie Mingjue extended his hand in return and Lao Nie dropped the pendant into it before Lan Qiren could intervene and point out why it was a terrible idea to just hand it over to someone who was both unprepared and little more than a child, however talented a genius he might be. The second it touched Nie Mingjue’s palm, he yelped and nearly dropped it, Lan Qiren snatching it away from him with his free hand before it could fall to the floor.

“It hurts!” he exclaimed, as Lan Qiren might have expected.

What he did not expect, however, was that Baxia abruptly drew herself, hurtling out of her sheath to hang in midair, emanating the distinct sensation of rage that was the characteristic of a Nie saber.

The pendant abruptly flared up, the heat in it rising as if in response to Baxia’s challenge, and Lan Qiren had to temporarily free himself from Lao Nie to quickly loop a guqin string through the pendant, letting it dangle away from his flesh, and then returned his hand to his friend before the red got too far into his eyes.

“What in the world is going on?” he demanded. “Lao Nie – explain.”

“I have no idea,” Lao Nie said, rubbing his eyes as if he realized something had happened to him in the brief interlude where they were separated. “They’re…fighting. I think? How can they be fighting? Why would a saber start a fight with a piece of jade?”

“Can you ask Baxia?” Lan Qiren asked Nie Mingjue, who was still clutching at his hand and looking blankly at them both. “I know it doesn’t exactly work as cleanly as all that, but your father always said you had an unusually strong connection…”

Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Baxia by the hilt, brow creased in a frown. “It really doesn’t work that way, Teacher Lan. All I can tell is that she’s angry.” He hesitated. “She feels betrayed.”

“Betrayed?” Lan Qiren asked, surprised. “But – how can she be betrayed? That would imply an initial association, familiarity, that something changed…”

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie suddenly said. He was staring at the pendant swinging in Lan Qiren’s hand. “Jiwei’s in the pendant.”

Nie Mingjue glanced at Lan Qiren, clearly concerned that his father had simply started seeing Jiwei in everything, but Lan Qiren bit his lip, thinking it over seriously.

He had initially thought that the reason for Lao Nie’s mistaken impression of him was because he had cultivated with the pendant using Jiwei’s energy, acting in Lao Nie’s place, and thereby he had been imprinted with the qi of the saber, that it had been that shadow upon him that Lao Nie had recognized.

But what if he had thought about it backwards?

“Is it possible,” he said slowly, wishing he knew more about the saber spirits, wishing that he’d had more time, wishing even that his Xinfei could speak as clearly as a saber could, “Mingjue, is it possible that Jiwei’s spirit is in the pendant? The saber spirit itself, I mean, as opposed to the physical saber?”

Nie Mingjue goggled at him. “In the pendant, Teacher Lan? A saber? But how?”

“I tied the two together using resonance,” Lan Qiren explained. Poor tone-deaf Nie Mingjue had never really understood what he was doing with his music, which Lan Qiren couldn’t blame him for – it was esoteric even by musical cultivation standards. He’d more or less made the entire thing up over the past few years. “Adjusting the internal music of the jade to match Jiwei, so that the two recognized each other – and, once recognized, forged a connection between them. That’s what allowed me to continue to draw out Jiwei’s anger even from a distance.”

Both Nie nodded, listening intently. Good students, both of them, for all their occasional faults; if only he had three dozen like them. As a teacher, it was the highest compliment he knew to speak.

“The unusual heat started, as far as we can tell, when the saber shattered,” he continued, now thinking out loud. “If Jiwei’s anger can transfer from one container to the other through the pathway forged by the resonance, why couldn’t the rest of her spirit do the same? Why couldn’t she come to possess the jade if she so wished?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with that idea, in all fairness – he might speak of questioning the sabers, might have reluctantly accepted them as having some form of sentience, but the idea of an entire spirit transferring from one body to another within the same lifetime in a method not unlike possession was rather disturbing. But at the same time he couldn’t imagine any other reason for Baxia to try to challenge a jade pendant to a duel.

Proud, strong Baxia, the only match to Nie Mingjue’s matchless talent, so fearsome that even other saber spirits yielded before her…

“But –” Nie Mingjue glanced sidelong at his father. “Teacher Lan, he also thinks you’re Jiwei.”

“Because I cultivated the pendant,” Lan Qiren said, because it made a certain amount of sense. “There are two types of spiritual energy in there: Jiwei’s and my own. Perhaps when I offered him the pendant, he recognized Jiwei in there, and also me, and thereby conflated the two…”

“I’m right here, you know,” Lao Nie interjected. “Being talked about as if I’m not.”

Lan Qiren leveled a quelling look at him.

Lao Nie gave him an arch look in return. “Just reminding you that I understand spoken speech, in the event you’ve forgotten.”

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said tetchily. “In that case, who I am again?”

Lao Nie paused, eyes traveling between Lan Qiren, the pendant dangling from his hand, and Nie Mingjue.

“You feel like Jiwei,” he said hesitantly. “But – the strangers felt like strangers, and weren’t. So you’re – not Jiwei. You’re…” He glanced at Nie Mingjue again, seeking external confirmation that his senses were misleading him; Nie Mingjue nodded eagerly. His gaze slide back to Lan Qiren. “Qiren?”

“Well done,” Lan Qiren said, full of relief. “Full marks, passing grade. Would it be possible for you to stop calling me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ now?”

Lao Nie – despite being the shameless scoundrel that he was – abruptly flushed bright red, while Nie Mingjue covered his face with his hands.

“I understand, of course,” Lan Qiren assured him. “What passes between a man and his spiritual weapon is very private, and –”

“Stop talking,” Lao Nie growled. “Just – stop talking.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Could I perhaps request LQR baby-sitting A-Yu and A-Lan for the renouncement verse? Thanks, love you <333

(brief author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Qiren’s nephews keep overworking themselves.

This wouldn’t be a bad thing if they hadn’t been doing it for the last several years, but it’s beginning to wear on them. Xichen’s eyes are always red and swollen from writing letters by candlelight, and Lan Qiren doesn’t remember the last time he saw Wangji without trade reports in his arms and spit-up milk on his robes, so he finally puts his foot down and decides to give all three of them a break in early autumn.

“Xichen, go take a soak in the hot springs,” he orders, sweeping into the hanshi and shoving everything on Lan Xichen’s desk up one of his sleeves. “Now.”

Lan Xichen is so exhausted that he tries to paint a line of calligraphy onto the expensive wood of his writing table. “Shufu?”

“You heard me,” Lan Qiren scolds. “Go on! I’ll finish the petition forms by tomorrow.”

Somewhat bewildered, Lan Xichen ambles out through the hanshi’s back door and splashes into the hot spring, leaving Lan Qiren to march down to the jingshi and confiscate all of Wangji’s trade contracts. He also confiscates baby A-Lan, who is lying in Lan Wangji’s lap and trying to eat his jade pendant.

“What are you doing?” Wangji asks, watching him tug the rest of his letters out of Wei Ying’s hands and stuff those up his sleeves, too. “Uncle?”

“You and Wei Ying need a rest,” he announces. “I am taking your work to the meishi, and I am also taking your children. Do not come to fetch them until sunset.”

And with that, he straps Wei Shuilan to his chest and takes Lan Yu by the hand, bundling them off to his own residence before their parents have time to do much more than blink at him in confusion.

“Huh,” Wei Wuxian says, after he leaves. “I think your uncle has a point, actually. Let’s go to bed, Lan Zhan.”

When Lan Qiren gets back to the meishi, he settles A-Lan down for a nap and gives Xiao-Yu a snack and some silver puzzle rings to improve his hand-eye coordination. “It almost reminds me of the old days,” he sighs, as Shuilan kicks her chubby little feet before falling asleep with her thumb in her mouth. “Even if Wangji never went down for naps without a fuss.”

Lan Qiren was nineteen when he became acting sect leader, and he was also nineteen when he received custody of Xichen: not coincidentally, because the clan hoped that taking charge of the sect would prevent him from raising his nephew and allow one of them to take over his care instead. But Lan Qiren was nothing if not stubborn, so Lan Huan went with him everywhere—to meetings, discussion conferences, and even the odd wedding now and then, and was generally such an amiable baby that he adjusted to his uncle’s fraught travelling schedule without a fuss. In fact, the first time Lan Huan met Jiang Yanli had been during a week-long cultivation event at Lotus Pier, yawning in a sling on Lan Qiren’s back while Jiang Yanli napped on Jiang Fengmian’s chest, and Jiang Fengmian had even mentioned the possibility of a betrothal between the two babies when they were older.

“My wife wants to contract an engagement between Xiao-Li and a son born to her sworn sister, but Jin-zongzhu and Jin-furen have not yet had a child,” Jiang-zongzhu had sighed, letting his daughter’s little fingers wrap around his. He looked heartbroken at the mere thought of parting from her, Lan Qiren remembers—which was probably why he named her yan li, to hate separation, because Jiang Yanli’s premature birth nearly stole her away from her parents the moment she entered the world.

“Lanling is closer to Gusu than Yunmeng,” Lan Qiren pointed out. Yunmeng Jiang would make an excellent alliance by marriage, and he was fairly certain at the time that Jiang Yanli would grow up to resemble her mild-mannered father rather than her hot-tempered mother. He was right, of course, since Jiang-guniang took after Jiang Fengmian in both looks and character, but contracting a betrothal with her for Xichen would have done both of them a disservice—because Xichen could never have loved her as she would have wanted to be loved, and he could never have given her children, either.

“Shugong?” a little voice says at Lan Qiren’s elbow, distracting him from the possibility of a world where Lan Huan married Jiang Yanli and crippled Lanling Jin’s influence after the Sunshot Campaign. “Xiao-Yu is done with the puzzle. I have another one?”

“Already?” Lan Qiren asks. This is yet another trait Xiaohui inherited from Wei Wuxian despite not being related to him, and Lan Qiren feels his heart swell with pride at his great-nephew’s intelligence. “Then you may play with the wooden blocks on that shelf, and see how high you can build your tower without letting it fall over.”

Xiao-Yu settles down on the hearthrug to stack up the fine-carved building blocks, and Lan Qiren goes through his nephew’s papers in peace for another hour before A-Lan wakes up from her nap and wails for her milk at the top of her lungs.

“Do not cry,” Lan Qiren soothes, securing the child in her swaddle before heating a bottle with a warming talisman. “Here is your supper, and your xiongzhang is there on the mat.”

He has to keep A-Lan in his arms after that, since his tiny great-niece is so used to being held that putting her down would break her little heart; and Lan Qiren would rather die than let go of her, because he dearly misses holding his nephews, and not so long ago he was certain he would never have the chance to hold a baby again.

And then, as if cuddling A-Lan to his chest wasn’t wonderful enough, Xiao-Yu pulls one of Wangji’s old picture books out of Lan Qiren’s storage trunk and runs over to sit in his lap, pushing the trade contracts aside and replacing them with the fable of the magic lotus lantern.

“Shugong, read to Xiao-Yu?” the little boy begs, snuggling into Lan Qiren’s overgown next to his cooing baby sister. “A-Die likes this story best.”

Of course he does, Lan Qiren thinks, as he flips the cover open and starts to read. The tale of the magic lotus lantern was written about a child whose mother was stolen away from him, taken back to the heavens by force when her godly brother discovered the magic lantern that illuminated her way to the mortal world—and for a while Wangji believed that his mother was like the immortal Sanshengmu, who loved a human man and had a child with him before returning to the realm she came from. Sanshengmu’s story ended with her being reunited with her husband and son, and the little Wangji never gave up hope that his own mother might come back in much the same way, even after he was old enough to stop believing in fairy stories.

“Why did they fight?” Xiao-Yu asks, leaning closer to see the picture of the goddess’s lover with his brush and scroll. “That’s against the rules!”

“Sometimes people who love one another fight because they cannot understand their feelings,” Lan Qiren tells him, tapping the point of his soft button nose. “So it was with Sanshengmu and Liu Yanchang-gongzi, and when he awoke, she revealed her true identity, and explained why she sent a rainstorm to plague him after she read his poem.

“Both apologized profusely. Days went by, and Liu Yanchang finally recovered. By then the goddess and the scholar had fallen deeply in love, and marriage naturally ensued. Encouraged by Goddess Sanshengmu, Liu Yanchang continued with his journey to the capital to take the imperial examination, and months later, the goddess gave birth to their son, whom she named Chenxiang.

“At the same time, the goddess’s celestial family had learned about her marriage to an earthly man. Her brother, known as Divine Erlang, found his unruly sister and demanded that she renounce her new family and return with him to their heavenly home, but Sanshengmu refused, and battled him with the power of her magical lotus lantern…”

“I want to paint a portrait of this,” Wei Wuxian whispers, when he and Lan Zhan creep into the meishi after sunset to find Lan Qiren fast asleep on the floor, with A-Lan snoozing on his chest and Xiao-Yu curled up in the crook of his arm. “They’re so sweet, Lan Zhan!”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at the open book on his uncle’s desk. Lan Qiren clearly just finished reading it before he fell asleep, because the book is open to the very last picture; a color painting of a goddess embracing a youth and an older man with a lotus-shaped lantern hanging at the crook of her elbow. “Bring a blanket and a pillow, Wei Ying. We should let them sleep.”

(Lan Qiren often finds himself toting his little great-nephew and niece around the Cloud Recesses after that, and Xiao-Yu’s favorite place to play in his parents’ absence is always the house where his shugong lives.)

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #my fic #wangxian arranged marriage au #renouncement verse #lan qiren #lan xiaohui #wei shuilan

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suddencolds · 3 years

Text

Pretense | Genshin Impact | 2/2

Part 2 of my Gen/shin Imp/act fic w Childe/Zhongli, ft. a cold, a meeting Childe doesn’t want to cancel, and dinner with Zhongli. (Here’s part 1!)

—

Zhongli stands. “Childe,” he says earnestly. “I was beginning to worry that something had happened.”

“Trouble at work,” Childe says dismissively. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, that’s for sure.” It’s not the full truth, but how can he tell Zhongli that he’s only late because his cold is taking its toll on his usual brutal efficiency? He’s sure that, in conjunction with his lateness, it would only sound like an excuse. “I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Zhongli says, unperturbed as ever. “You are worth waiting for.”

Childe grins at him, a little shakily. “Still, it’s cold out. Had I been closer to town, I would’ve sent someone to tell you about the delay. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”

“You are the one who suggested for us to meet here,” Zhongli counters. “It was only natural for me to uphold the agreement until you arrived.”

Childe wonders if he’s like this with everyone—loyal and almost infuriatingly genuine. Surely Zhongli has run into his fair share of people who don’t keep their promises—Childe wonders, not for the first time, if there’s any limit to his seemingly limitless patience.

“Is everything resolved now?” Zhongli asks.

“Yeah. I just ran into some difficulty with recruits. You know how it is,” Childe says. “Business as usual, yet the newcomers can be… difficult to cater to.” He conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s usually the one pushing himself past his limits to impress them—that’s not something Zhongli needs to know. “I had a couple good spars with them, though!” He makes a show out of stretching, stifling a yawn. “If I’m more tired than usual, that’s probably why.”

Zhongli only nods. “If you are tired, we can postpone our walk, and end our meeting early so that you can be properly rested when—”

“No,” Childe says, maybe too quickly. “No, no, it’s okay. You waited all this time for me, and… I’m excited for tonight.” That’s not a lie. He feels better standing next to Zhongli already—something about being in his presence makes him feel strangely comforted.

There’s also the irrelevant, lesser-known fact that Childe hates being alone when he’s ill. But that’s not something he intends to share, either.

“So…” he sniffles as discretely as possible. “...dinner?”

Zhongli smiles to him. “I am looking forward to it.”

They fall easily into step, shoulder to shoulder. Liyue is busy as always, and one of the merchants—carrying something or other, not looking where they’re going—bumps into him, sending him closer to Zhongli. It’s only a moment of contact, but Zhongli is… warm. Childe pulls away quickly so that Zhongli doesn’t feel him shiver.

As always, Zhongli talks, and Childe finds himself more than content to listen. For once, he’s glad that the market is so loud—it makes it so that when he sniffles or clears his throat, it’s not very noticeable.

Halfway through the walk, though, a familiar, sharp prickle settles back in his nose. Zhongli is still talking, so Childe turns away slightly, his breath wavering.

“... hH!”

“The jade plaques are hand-carved, so they are all unique,” Zhongli is saying, oblivious, as they pass a stall that sells jade pendants. “As jade goes, it is priced for its translucency and the evenness in its coloration, though true jade always has imperfections.”

Childe pinches the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt to stave off the growing urge to sneeze. “A double edged… hH! S-sword,” he comments. “I imagine that if they’re too clear, there’s a chance they… Hiih! … might be counterfeits.”

Zhongli nods sagely. “That’s right. Jade plaques like this are especially valuable, given their history, which makes them a popular relic for dishonest merchants to emulate. It is said that they were originally made to honor Rex Lapis, Lord of Geo, back before his form was—”

Childe jerks away, cupping his hand over his face as a sneeze snaps him forward.

“HiiHH’ISCHHEW!”

The sneeze echoes in his cupped hands, barely muffled, and still… loud. He flushes, embarrassed, as he lowers his hands slowly from his face.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says.

Faintly, Childe realizes that Zhongli is looking at him. Childe refuses to meet his eyes. He’s sure that if he makes eye contact now, Zhongli will be able to see straight through him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Childe says, sniffling again.

Zhongli is quiet for a moment, observing him with his usual scrutiny. Childe wonders if his hesitance is out of disgust.

“Are you alright?” he says finally.

Childe nods. “I’m fine! Must be that…” he looks around. They’re next to one of the food stands that's heavy on its spices, which he assumes is as good of an excuse as any. “...one of the spices here… hhIH… hIHh’NDGt!” He almost winces, turning away to sniffle with one knuckle pressed to his face. “...doesn’t agree with me, ahaha. Nothing to worry about! Uh, you were talking about the Lord of Geo’s forms?”

“Ah. Yes,” Zhongli says. He launches into the history of jade plaques and Rex Lapis’s many forms, and somewhere along the way, Childe forgets what he’s worried about.

The sun’s going down, and uncharacteristically the cool air is making him shiver. He crosses his arms mid-walk in a mostly-futile effort to conserve warmth, but it doesn’t do much. In between his frequent interjections, his voice is starting to sound worse, too—he supposes he’s overused it in talking to the recruits; it’s lucky that Zhongli is content to do most of the talking.

When they get to Wanmin, Zhongli leads him to one of the tables outside.

“Wanmin is well-known for its variety,” Zhongli says. “While it offers Li style and Yue style food, you will find that Chef Mao also fulfills even the most specific of customer requests.”

“Specific customer requests, huh,” Childe says. “Does that mean you’ve ordered something off the menu here, xiansheng?”

Zhongli smiles. “I have ordered everything except for the seafood dishes.”

“I forgot about your aversion to seafood,” Childe admits, laughing. “You will have to tell me the story behind it someday. Besides that, what do you suggest?”

“I think I have something in mind,” Zhongli says untellingly, looking contemplative. “First, sit down.”

Childe obliges. Sitting down is a relief—as much as he would never admit it, their short walk has left him exhausted. He resists the urge to slump forward on the seat. Worse, the persistent itch in his nose from earlier is back.

“Stay here. I will order for you,” Zhongli says, laying a hand on his arm, and Childe—

Childe actually shivers, which is embarrassing, to say the least. Luckily, Zhongli doesn’t seem to notice. “Don’t forget about the mora,” he says, and fishes for a pouch of coins from his pocket. “Here. I’m sure Chef Mao has dealt with his fair share of your forgetfulness.”

Zhongli smiles sheepishly, which is probably more endearing than it has any right to be. “Thank you, Childe. I will be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears around the corner to talk to Chef Mao, Childe exhales, lifting a hand to rub his nose. It’s a bad idea. Suddenly the tickle from before is back, and he’s snapping forward with barely any warning, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHIH’NGDt! hH!..HIHh’GKtt! hhH....”

Stifling isn’t very relieving at all. If anything, it seems to make him more congested. He casts a quick, desperate glance towards the restaurant. It’s still loud outside, the marketplace as raucous at night as it is at day. Surely Zhongli won’t notice if he—

“hIIH…. hIIH’ISChH-u!” Well, it’s not like he has much control over it now. “hHh... hiIH’IZCHhew!” He gasps again, ducking lower to muffle the sneeze in the crook of his arm. “hIIh’IISCHEEW!”

They’re forceful in a way that suggests that this is going to be a really awful cold, but it’s relieving to succumb to the urge at last. He sighs, sniffling hard, and lowers his arm. Zhongli is still ordering, it seems. Childe is suddenly grateful that he’d chosen this moment to step away.

His eyes are watering a little, so he blinks quickly. Finally, Zhongli comes back to sit down across from him.

“That was fast,” Childe says, wincing a little at how congested his voice sounds. “I hope you gave him a tip?”

"Of course," Zhongli says, sliding back the pouch of mora.

They fall back into conversation easily enough after that. It’s only when Zhongli goes quiet that Childe snaps out of his reverie.

“You have been quiet,” Zhongli remarks. “Is something on your mind?”

Childe blinks at him. “Ah. Sorry,” he says, muffling a cough. “I’m still listening. I can talk more if you want me to.”

“No,” Zhongli says. “There’s no need. I was only wondering if it would be better if I refrained from speaking so much.”

Childe frowns. Zhongli has the wrong idea—Childe likes listening to him—but he can’t help but wonder if he’s worse company than usual. “I like listening to you,” Childe insists. “If… it’s okay. I just… I’ve talked a lot today, so...” He looks away, feeling his face grow hot at the admission. “I think I’m, uh, losing my voice, or something.”

Zhongli frowns at him. “Will you have recruits to train tomorrow?”

He tries to recall his schedule for the week. “Don’t think so. Tomorrow’s errands will… hiH!...’NGDshH! be more straightforward. I—” he coughs again. “I hope.”

“That is a relief,” Zhongli says. “Regardless, you should save your voice. Your assurance that you are still interested is enough.”

I’m always interested, Childe thinks, as Zhongli launches back into another story about Liyuen history. His voice is smooth and low and, in every capacity, as comforting as always. Childe falls into it entirely.

It’s only when the food arrives that he finds himself staring down at a bowl of still-steaming soup.

It’s not something he’s had before. He takes an experimental sip. The warmth is immediately comforting; it's exactly the sort of warmth he's been craving all day. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, and he can barely taste it through his congestion, but what he can discern of the flavor is...

“This is delicious, xiansheng,” he says, letting his eyes fall shut in his indulgence. “What is it?”

“Bamboo shoot soup,” Zhongli answers simply. “It should be a good remedy for your cold.”

Childe nearly drops his spoon.

He blinks, surprised. “What?”

Zhongli stares back at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Your cold,” he repeats. “You have been showing symptoms of it all evening. It is not unlikely that you have a fever as well, if the way you have been shivering is any indication. Were you not aware that you were ill?”

Childe buries his face in one hand. “I knew! Just... was it so obvious?”

“Did you intend to keep it a secret?”

“Not exactly, but…” he sighs. “I didn’t want to cancel our plans over something so trivial. You had already waited so long for me, so it wouldn’t have been fair if I’d just… used it as an excuse to - hIHh!”

Childe feels his breath wavering. He shuts his eyes in desperation, ducking away from the table. This is really the worst timing.

“hIihh… hIIH’NDGxt! snf… s-sorry, I... hIIH’ISSHHEEw!”

He flushes as another shiver racks his frame. It’s… embarrassing, to say the least, to sneeze so openly right in front of someone he admires.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says. When Childe looks up at him, he looks sad, his shoulders hunching as he stares down at his own food. “Childe, are you only here because you felt obligated to uphold your end of an agreement?” His voice is soft, as always. He doesn’t sound accusatory—only uncertain, but somehow, that makes it worse. “I would not have thought any less of you if you had been honest with me.”

“That’s not it,” Childe says, and fuck, he wants to say anything just to get that hurt expression off of Zhongli’s face. “I came because I wanted to see you.” He blinks past sudden exhaustion. Suddenly his breath catches wrong and he’s coughing harshly, hurrying to press his forearm to his face as his shoulders shudder with the effort.

“I… realize I might not be great company right now, though,” he admits, wincing. His voice is really shot.

Maybe it would have been better had he been less selfish. Maybe he should have cancelled their meeting the moment he’d started feeling bad. Or maybe he should get rid of his strange over-reliance on the funeral consultant in the first place.

Zhongli reaches for his hand. Childe wants to pull it away, on instinct, but Zhongli’s grasp is firm and strangely, hopelessly grounding.

“You are always good company,” Zhongli says sternly, with as much conviction as he has when he recites history or recalls fact. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked. For you, I would have said yes.”

“You indulge me,” Childe accuses him, sniffling. Zhongli smiles, as if he’s taken it as a compliment.

“Perhaps. Will you let me walk you back home after we finish our meal?”

Childe wants to protest. They had a walk planned, after all, but he’s exhausted, and the trip back to the inn he’s staying in suddenly seems much less arduous when he considers he could be walking back with Zhongli.

“Zhongli, you are proving my point,” he says, cracking a smile. “...If you don’t mind, though, I would love that.”

He’s really going to miss Liyue when he leaves.

#sneeze fic #snzfic #sneeze kink #gen/shin impact #this was hard to write #;;#i am at the edge of my wits writing childe's internal monologue #i'm very soft for these two so i can only hope i didn't #fk up their characterization or anything #my fic

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otonymous · 4 years

Text

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter. The Big Bang 😉 Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳 Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆). Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story. You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori — I hope you enjoyed this story! I certainly had lots of fun writing this! Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading!

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good. I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want? Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that. It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work. It’s cold, dark and lonely out here. Is that any way to treat your boyfriend? Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?! Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place? I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts. They even came to my office. I lost my fucking job. So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure. He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had. And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk. I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch. I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice. Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe. Your girl?” The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt. “Tsk, tsk. So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar. The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her. Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair. Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago. He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me! I’m a piece of shit! I’m nothing, I’m garbage! I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you! I-I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late. Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?” Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather. You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak. You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store. All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone. Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin. But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

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

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass. You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim. Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs. I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind. Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him. Now. Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips. And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it. Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you. Selfish. I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me. I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you. Wondering how you are. Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well. If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work. But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you. I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession. That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness. The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you. You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.

“Love takes courage, as does life. But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it? So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears. That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?” You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request. Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat. You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin. And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing. Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers. You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand. And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet. Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response. You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him? Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy. Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain. You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky. You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt. Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder. And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb. Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep. You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant. And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure. You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me. I knew you were a good girl.” He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat. “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush. If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No! No…I’m okay. More than okay, I’m great. Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans. Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart. And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him. And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest. The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume. Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover. The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs. Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets. And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you. Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me. And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day. You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other. That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work. Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love dream date #evol x love #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc smut #mlqc shaw smut #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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princeofvelvet · 3 years

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Hi zam! I saw a discussion on the bird app about what if LBH had a different Shizun than SQQ, would he fall in love with them just the same? And what a question man... I need answers and opinions, what do you think? One part of me thinks that LBH is so starved for love he'd probably easily fall for any Shizun who treated him with kindness but other part of me doesn't want to believe it since it'd kinda make his love for SY!SQQ real cheap.. wdyt?

Hookay. I have Thoughts but I want to get some stuff out of the way first, mainly the fact that these are simply My Thoughts as someone who exclusively likes BingQiu endgame, to the point where any ship where they aren’t together is a big squick. Other people will not see it this way! Other people might just want to have fun, or they don’t like BQ or they just wanna explore other relationships; this is all valid and good!! This isn’t me telling you why you should like them or to see things my way, this is only what I’ve come up with in regards to why I feel this way about them and why the mere existence of Other possibilities doesn’t threaten or cheapen my view of this ship.

Where I fear we might have a problem is when this argument *is* presented with the intention of cheapening BingQiu? Like, there’s a group of people who genuinely want to just multiship in peace, and there’s another group who already doesn’t feel BingQiu’s love is real and present this as a “gotcha!” to the shippers. I've said before, everyone reads a different, unique story even when the text is the same, and this view, while I think could be presented in a nicer way, is also A Way to see this ship.

Not trying to change anyone's mind here, just giving my take on it.

A bit of meta under the cut, don't read it if you're not into that!! You know who you are!!

The Point (at least for me) isn’t “Luo Binghe fell in love with the first person who showed him kindness”.

BingQiu is not a match made in heaven (bear with me here!), they’re not even from the same world! LBH is a romantic, SQQ is a realist.

I think there’s a reason Bingge ended up with a thousand unfulfilling relationships and that is because the Romantic Ideal is to be constantly swept off your feet by someone who sees You and Only You, makes you feel Special and feels as strongly about you as you do them. Needless to say that is unrealistic, but if you have Romantic ideals then you might just end up chasing after that endlessly, toss aside the person who no longer makes you feel the Rush of infatuation and look for something new and shiny. The Realist point of view says love isn’t about who carves a thousand statues in your likeness (sorry hualian) but more about who takes care of you when you’re sick.

That is what Luo Binghe learns over the course of the novel. He starts out idolizing a version of Shen Qingqiu that *does not exist* (the Shizun who Always cared about him and had good reason to do the things he did -we know that not to be true for SJ-), and projects onto him his desires (I want Shizun to Only look at me, Why is Shizun *smiling* at others?, I’m going to blow up the world and everyone in it so it’s only Us), but in the end he learns that Shen Qingqiu does not have to stick to his ideal version for LBH to believe he *does* care about him, because despite everything he keeps saving LBH, because he picked up that jade pendant and saved it, because he keeps *choosing* him.

In the end, their love is quiet and honest, which I think is what makes it hard to understand both in-universe and irl (can't speak for anyone else but myself here. I did not care about BingQiu as much as I do now when I finished reading). It’s not “we’re perfect for each other, your flaws are virtues in my eyes”, it’s “I don’t like XYZ about you, and you don’t like ABC about me, let’s grow around it.” I’m confident it’s the kind of relationship that won’t crumble after 10 years when they cant stand each other because the honeymoon phase wore off five years ago, because they’re making a conscious decision to make it work, meeting in the middle and making their home there.

So to answer the subject of this ask, finally, would Luo Binghe get a crush on someone *else* (and maybe even get into a relationship) if he never met Shen Yuan? Probably! In the original novel he got thousands of them. Does this cheapen BingQiu’s relationship? In my eyes, not at all. Their relationship is the most stable and strong (for me), and it has nothing to do with how it started, because it had a rocky start, it has all to do with them using communication and patience to build their relationship in a way that makes them unique.

Personally I like scenarios where they meet in several different ways and at different times but still end up together, but that's a story for another day...

#the marvelous askventure #Bingqiu meta #SVSSS meta #meta #i tried to stress as many times as I could that this is just my take on it #And I hope i made it clear that shipping something else is completely fine

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tanoraqui · 4 years

Text

uhh please enjoy this rough draft of the first half of chapter two of Iron, Blood, and Grave Dirt, aka the demon baby!A-Yuan au

0. Lan Wangji arrives at the Burial Mounds too late to find A-Yuan, but not too late to see Jiang Cheng and the YunmengJiang disciples flying away with him. He follows.

He waits, bleeding and aching, for night. It doesn’t take long - Lotus Pier isn’t far from Yunmeng, as the sword flies, but the day has already been long. When the sect compound quiets, Lan Wangji slips in.

He is spotted almost immediately. He is clumsy with pain and grief, and Jiang Cheng has not trained his people to be incautious of intruders. Through sheer force of will, he (mostly) does not lean on the alarmed disciple who offers him an arm, a seat, a bed in the infirmary, Hanguang-jun?!?

It’s easier when Jiang Cheng stalks into sight, because Lan Wangji is fueled by determination and fear and rage and love and just a little bit of spite.

He may never know what in his face - his posture? his mere presence? - makes Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen in realization. He will certainly never realize that Jiang Cheng’s voice cracks more with betrayal than fury when he says, “You? You knew?”

He dismisses his disciples with a sharp wave of one hand and Lan Wangji stays standing because he is bleeding and broken but his hand is on Bichen’s hilt, he will fight if he has to, because -

“Wei Yuan.”

“Is my nephew, and you are not touching him.” Zidian throws off sparks.

It’s a testament, frankly, to Jiang Cheng’s mental and emotional disarray, that Lan Wangji is the first to realize that they do not need to kill one another in defense of the same child, because Lan Wangji is, as discussed, bleeding and broken and 3 steps from passing out.

“He needs to be...hidden,” he says.

Jiang Cheng laughs with bitterness so vast it can only be folded and compressed to rage, like steel folded into a sword, and waves a handful of papers bent in one fist. At Lan Wangji’s stone-faced bafflement, he loosens his grip and smooths them out, and shows off the familiar handwriting. Unfamiliar designs, but recognizable concepts.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji breaths without a thought.

“I went looking in his room for- some sort of explanation,” says Jiang Cheng. “Found this half-baked thing - it’ll disguise resentful energy as spiritual, if- when I finish it.” (The sort of invention that would get the Yiling Patriarch accused of villainy and deception from the eastern sea to the western heavens, but both of them know that’s not the reason for it.)

“Will you?” says Lan Wangji (and can you as well; both rude, but the older Lan Wangji grows, the less time he has for politeness.)

Jiang Cheng nearly spits at him, and for once, that is answer enough.

Here’s where, in another timeline, Lan Wangji might collapse and need a bed to lie on, or Jiang Cheng might look him over and offer one, and the Second Jade of Lan might spend his seclusion, very quietly, at Lotus Pier. This is not one of those timelines, though. In this one, Jiang Cheng looks him over and maybe, maybe he thinks about it - but instead he bunches the paper up in his fist again and drops it to his side, and says gruffly and almost kindly, “Go home, Lan-er-gongzi. Can you make it?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t waste his effort nodding.

“Good. Then go. You being here will only raise more questions.” As an act of mercy he says, “Wei Yuan has a fever, but it’s probably some fucky demonic thing, not real illness. He’s - ” his face twists - “strong. I’ll send you a message when he pulls through.”

1. Wei Yuan is still bedridden when he receives his first (remembered) assignment from his sect leader (that isn’t “go to sleep” or “eat your soup” or boring stuff like that). But he’s been permitted to sit up and provided pencils and paper with which to draw, so long as he does both without either getting up further or making enough noise to wake the baby (again). He’s doing it all fantastically, singing softly to himself in accompaniment to the story he’s drawing about two butterflies who are friends, when actually it’s shushu who breaks the quiet.

Wei Yuan looks up in shocked delight. “That was a bad word!”

“Oh shut the- ” Shushu, who is also Sect Leader Jiang, takes a deep breath and puts aside the papers he’s been reading, in chair near Wei Yuan’s bed. He eyes Wei Yuan sitting attentively with his lapdesk, and the baby (Jin Ling, Wei Yuan’s cousin) in the crook of his own arm, and opens his mouth to shout for a servant - than looks again at the sleeping baby. At Wei Yuan. He releases the shout as a slow, quiet, exhale.

Very carefully and slowly, without adjusting the angle of his bed-arm almost at all, he stands, walks over, and puts the baby down on the bed next to Wei Yuan.

Wei Yuan holds perfectly still. He doesn’t even breathe. Jin Ling squirms a little, and shushu takes Wei Yuan’s arm and tucks it around his fuzzy head, so Jin Ling still has something to nestle into. Possibly even shushu holds his breath as Jin Ling quiets again.

“Don’t move,” shushu instructs quietly and quickly. “Don’t let him move, except to wiggle or whatever. I’ll be right back, I’m just going to go get a couple reports from my room. If he wakes up and starts crying, shout for help.”

He pauses and adds, “Breathe, A-Yuan.”

Wei Yuan takes in a deep, gasping breath, and immediate tries to calm it so the baby doesn’t notice.

“Got it?” asks shushu.

Wei Yuan nods as furiously as possible without moving anything below the neck. Shushu gives him a serious nod and slips silently out of the room.

(Wei Yuan doesn’t...remember either his uncle or his cousin, or Lotus Pier or much anyone or anything else. Shushu and the doctor say the second thing is okay because he’s never actually met Jin Ling before, and anyway Jin Ling is so little that he doesn’t remember anything at all; and the first and third are okay because he had a bad fever and it hurt his head, and so long as he can still remember things like words and how to draw butterflies, and kind of remembers enough that he never thought to be scared of waking up in Lotus Pier with a grumpy uncle beside his bed, then that’s okay. And they also say it’s very impressive that he can count to three, which is satisfying.)

2. “I’m Chifeng-zun!”

“I’m Sandu Shengshou!”

“You always get to be Sandu Shengshou - I want to be Sandu Shengshou!”

“Fine - I’ll be Lianfang-zun!”

“I’m Hanguang-jun!”

“Don’t be stupid,” scoffs A-Jiao, and pulls the sword-shaped stick from his hands. “You have to be the Yiling Patriarch.”

“Who says!” Wei Yuan demands, and grabs the stick back. “Gimme Bichen!”

“Everyone says!” A-Jiao refuses to let go, and gives it a good hard yank for good measure. “You look like him, my mama said, and he’s your dad and you’re weird!”

It’s one of the weeks when Jin Ling is at Carp Tower, is the problem. Those weeks are always the worst. When Jin Ling is here, Wei Yuan can bounce happily between training and lessons and playing with Jin Ling, and nobody complains at all. When Jin Ling gone, Wei Yuan has to try to play with the other kids, the couple in the sect and the varying dozen who run around the market while their parents tend stalls. It’s pretty much always terrible.

He lets go of the stick abruptly and lets A-Jiao stumble back.

“Fine!” he shouts. “I don’t want to play Sunshot anyway! It’s stupid!”

Jiang Cheng finds him a couple hours later, sitting in a corner rather than eating dinner with the other young disciples like he should be.

“What are you doing?” he demands. “What’s this I hear about you shoving a girl in the market?”

“I didn’t - ” Wei Yuan redirects his scowl to his knees (it’s not a very good scrowl, anyway. There’s too many tears hovering at the corners of it.) “Sorry, Jiang-zongzhu.” (It’s Jiang-zongzhu when he’s yelling, especially if Jin Ling isn’t here.) (Wei Yuan can call him shushu sometimes, but not Jiang-shushu, because he makes a Face and then snaps at everyone even more than usual.)

“Hrmph,” says Jiang Cheng, because there’s clearly, like, Feelings happening here, and that’s bullshit. “Are you still wearing that necklace I gave you?”

“Yes, Jiang-zongzhu.” Wei Yuan brushes his hand along the chain and pulls the pendant out for inspection. It’s not especially pretty, just a few lotus seeds carved with marks indicipheravle through the thick lacquer that glues them together. It makes him feel a little better and a little worse, because it’s something his father, the Yiling Patriarch made for him, a protection charm that shushu found (he says) in a pile of Wei Wuxian’s things, and passed on to Wei Yuan.

“Good,” says Jiang Cheng. “Now, if you have a problem with anyone, show them up by getting your butt to dinner and eating well, and going to bed early, and being better than the rest of them in training tomorrow. And every day after that. That’s the only real way to get people to shut up.”

Wei Yuan looks up with a little bit of hope in his eyes.

“And you’ll be waking up early to kneel for an hour, because YunmengJiang disciples don’t shove girls in the marketplace. What are you waiting for, go! You want all the food to get cold?”

3. Wei Yuan thinks that maybe the Second Jade of Lan is heartbroken, that Wei Yuan doesn’t recognize him. It’s very hard to tell - there’s the slightest widening of his eyes, the tiniest downturn of his mouth - but that very reticence of expression is what makes Wei Yuan think that even the little he sees probably says quite a lot.

“This one apologies, Hanguang-jun,” he says with as formal a bow as he knows. “I had a fever, when I was little. I don’t remember a lot, from before I was four.”

Lan Wangji remains silent.

“I’m seven now,” Wei Yuan says helpfully, straightening, because he just had his birthday and he’s proud of the fact.

“You have grown,” Lan Wangji manages, because that’s certainly one of the things that is leaving him frozen.

Wei Yuan beams up at him. “I’m 120 centimeters tall!”

“And you are...well?”

(It’s...possible that Lan Wangji had entertained himself, from time to time in the last three years, with thoughts of striding into Lotus Pier the second he was free of “seclusion” and being instantly greeted by Wei Yuan flinging himself into his arms. Wei Yuan would be simultaneously weeping with yearning and beaming with pure joy, that wide smile that was so very much Wei Wuxian’s even when nothing else about their faces looked particularly the same (except the eyes, the ghost-pale eyes). Wei Yuan would cry that Jiang Wanyin was a wholly inadequate guardian and beg to go back to Gusu with Lan Wangji, or maybe to travel around doing righteous things, and in the truly extravagant dreams, he’d say that before leaving him in the tree, Wei Ying had confessed that - )

“I’m very well, thank you!” Wei Yuan says with perfect manners, and beams Wei Wuxian’s smile. “I...” He looks around uncertainly. “I was doing sword practice, but I guess that’s...over?”

“LAN WANGJI!” comes a familiar bellow as Jiang Cheng stalks into the training yard, a couple junior and senior disciples at his heels. Others have clustered at the edges of the yard pushed back by more or less the force of Lan Wangji’s focused attention. It is...possible that Lan Wangji carried out the first part of his daydreams without thought, striding (barging) into Lotus Pier without warning and not stopping until he found Wei Yuan and confirmed that he was -

He blinks. “You plan to wield a spiritual - ”

Jiang Cheng grabs the interfering idiot in white by the elbow and pinches hard enough to bruise, and hisses in his ear, “Don’t you dare fucking tell him.”

4. Jin Ling sprinted down the corridor, shrieking gleefully at the top of his lungs.

“I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna get you!” Wei Sizhui hollered at his heels. “I’m gonna - ”

“HEY,” Jiang Cheng broke off conversation with a disciple to bellow, as both boys skidded to a halt. “Do you think this is a playground? A race course? Shouldn’t you both be in lessons right now?” In fact he knew they should be, Jin Ling with learning letters with his brand-new tutor and Wei Sizhui in basic talisman class with the other young disciples, under Yang Bozhao’s watchful eye.

“Lessons are boring,” Jin Ling said promptly, though he had the grace to look shifty.

“Many apologies,” Wei Sizhui said much more politely and a little out of breath with laughter, half a step behind him. “A-Ling wanted to play, and Yang-shixiong said we may have a stretch break - ”

“So you run screaming through the halls of my ancestors?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “A-Ling, back to your tutor - I’m sure she’s looking for you.” Though how the woman could’ve missed the trail of shouting, he couldn’t imagine. “Wei Sizhui, you will return to class, then you will report to the discipline hall, for three hours’ scrubbing floors and contemplating proper behavior.”

Wei Sizhui looked unhappy, but he bowed. “Yes, [shifu].”

“What- but then we can’t play [checkers]!” Jin Ling complained.

“Tough luck,” said Jiang Cheng.

“But - ” Jin Ling looked between his cousin and his uncle in bewilderment. “I wanted to play tag and I don’t have to scrub floors! Why’s A-Yuan got to!”

“Because Wei Sizhui is four years older than you are and should know better,” Jiang Cheng snapped. (Though, gods all above, he regretted letting Lan Wangji choose that stupid courtesy name.) He loosened his darkest glower. “Such impropriety brings shame on our sect, and on any decent ancestors he has.”

“A-Ling.” Wei Sizhui caught him by the elbow.

Jin Ling shook him off, balled his fists and planted his feet with all the authority of his five years, and glared back at Jiang Cheng. “No!”

Great, now Jin Ling’s getting into trouble because of him, Jiang Cheng thought, and, I don’t know why I expected propriety from a literal demon child anyway, and, Mother, please! You don’t have to cut off his hand!

Ever since he’d first gotten it, Jiang Cheng had gotten used to letting Zidian react to his mood with little restraint. So what if it meant people could read him - they’d also know he was strong. He was used to the comfortable feeling of it warming on his finger, sparks crackling, bond to his golden core strengthening.

With hardly an indrawn breath, he cut it off so hard and absolutley that for a moment the ring felt foreign on his finger, cool and distant and dull.

5. There is something terrible in the Lotus Lake.

It comes and goes, swimming here and there or not appearing at all. Often it is with a group of living things, or at least one or two, though it does not devour them. Always, it is draped in illusions such that the water ghoul trapped under the boulder cannot identify it apart from the other bright and living things until it comes close, terrifyingly close. Close enough to see the ghoul and, according to the ecosystem of the dead, devour it.

But it does not. Nor does it devour the bright things among which it swam, ripe with power through they were. So very ripe, so very bright... the water ghoul strains to reach them, scrabbling against its imprisoning boulder with resentment that grows day by day, year by year. Only when the dark and terrible thing appears does it cease its struggles, frozen in the pale fear of the dead.

Until the boulder moves. Years of scratching and scrabbling with nothing more than fingertips, from the ghoul’s place buried in the silt...the boulder moves. It tips just an inch, just a millimeter - and then another. And then another. The ghoul scrabbles for purchase to pull itself up, to push its cell door further; it twists and contorts and shoves and breaks free.

The water ghoul has long since forgotten who exactly it blames for its death. It rages simply at the living, every bright, breathing one of them. They’ve taunted it for years, swimming down to tap its prison door like a challenge, ignorant of the hatred beneath - no more. There are two little bright things on a raft above. The ghoul rockets silently up toward them with all the hunger and fury of the dead. They will make a good start.

Too late, as usual, it realizes that one of them is the monster. It cannot stop its charge - it crashes into the raft and knocks it over, throws both riders into the moonlit water. The ghoul does not think well; it is a creature of jealous rage and hunger. It hesitates - and goes for the smaller prey, the one that is prey, is bright and screaming with life and breath and a flickering, half-grown golden core -

“Stop!”

If the ghoul has long-since forgotten language, stewing in silt and resentment, cannot misunderstand the monster’s terrible will, carried on a wave of resentful energy that crashes on it with frothing fury. it cannot resist the wave, either, strong with inpatience though the ghoul is. The ghoul freezes -

“Come over here!” follows on the first demand’s heels, crashing upon the ghoul with a panicked desperation that it would wonder at if it had the mind to do so. With what it has, it fights this one harder, self-preservation stronger even than the need to kill that one child that dares live when it was dead. It snarls silent defiance at the monster even as it swims helplessly closer.

Go away! It’s not spoken at all this time, but that hardly matters. The monster’s eyes are wide and white-edged and its power floods over the water ghoul, and the ghoul accepts the mercy for what it is and swims as fast and far as it can.

“A-Yuan?” Jin Ling’s voice is high and just barely held together, though at least he’s managed to get back on the raft. “Is it gone? Did it bite you? Was that a ghoul?”

“...Yeah,” Wei Sizhui says slowly. He stops treading water and swims back to the raft (overturned, and all their illicitly collected lotus seeds lost). He doesn’t climb on when he reaches it, just holds the side and looks back in the direction the...thing went. He can almost still feel it, he thinks, if he focuses his golden core like he’s meditating, reaches out to commune with the energy around him...

“Yeah,” he says more confidently. “It’s gone, A-Ling. You don’t need to worry.”

Jin Ling lets out a shuddering breath of relief. For a moment, Wei Sizhui feels pretty good, Responsible Older Cousin-wise.

Then Jin Ling scrambles over to his side of the raft, threatening to overbalance it again, and asks, “How?”

#mdzs #the untamed #lan sizhui #jiang cheng #jin ling #lan wangji #my fic #fanfiction #there is...not actually very much demon baby content in this one #like i said: meant to write an au where sizhui has cool demonic cultivation powers #ended up writing an au where wwx has a son and how that works out for everyone

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foxghost · 4 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 3

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 1, Chapter 1 (part 2)

“Bring me two bowls of Laba2 congee.”

Lang Junxia’s voice fades away, and all around warm lamplight filters in. Duan Ling is so sleepy that he can’t even open his eyes. He turns over groggily, but Lang Junxia pats him awake.

In the guestroom of a relay station, the waiter brings them two bowls of Laba congee. Lang Junxia hands it to Duan Ling, and once again, Duan Ling wolfs it down ravenously, his eyes darting this way and that, sneaking glances at Lang Junxia.

“Still hungry?” Lang Junxia asks.

Duan Ling watches him suspiciously. Lang Junxia goes to sit on the bed, but Duan Ling just shrinks back into the covers, all nervousness.

Lang Junxia has never taken care of children before; there’s a slightly puzzled expression on his face. He doesn’t have any candy on him to wheedle a child with either. He thinks about this for a moment, and unties the jade arc3 ornament on his belt. “This is for you.”

The jade arc is translucent and pure, looking like a cut-off piece of hard candy, but Duan Ling doesn’t dare take it. His gaze moves from the jade arc back to Lang Junxia’s face.

“If you want it, take it,” Lang Junxia answers.

His words are warm but his voice carries no emotion. Pinching the jade between his fingers, he hands it to Duan Ling.

With much trepidation, Duan Ling takes it. He turns it over and over in his hands to look at it. Then his gaze wanders back to Lang Junxia’s face again.

“Who are you?” Duan Ling suddenly thinks of someone, and asks, “Are you … are you my dad?”

Lang Junxia doesn’t reply. Duan Ling’s heard countless rumours about his dad. Some say his dad is a monster who lives in the mountains; some say his dad is a beggar; some say his dad will come back to get him eventually — that he’s meant to live surrounded by luxury.

But Lang Junxia answers, “No, sorry to disappoint you. I’m not.”

Duan Ling doesn’t think so either, but he’s not really all that disappointed. Lang Junxia seems to be thinking about something. When he comes back to himself, he tells Duan Ling to lie down and tucks him in. “Go to sleep.”

The howling blizzard turns into an echo by Duan Ling’s ears; Runan is already forty miles behind them, but Duan Ling is covered in cuts, and as soon as he falls asleep, he dreams of suddenly being beaten, then he proceeds to fall into a series of nightmares.

Sometimes he twitches all over, sometimes he cries out in fear, and never does he stop shuddering.

Lang Junxia made his bed on the floor at first, but over the latter half of the night, but when he notices that Duan Ling nightmares never seem to stop, goes to sleep next to him on the bed. Every time Duan Ling reaches out, he would let Duan Ling hold onto his big, warm hand. Only after several bouts of this does Duan Ling start calming down.

The next day, Lang Junxia calls for hot water and gives Duan Ling a bath, wiping his whole body clean. Duan Ling is all skin and bones, his arms and legs covered in scars. His old injuries haven’t healed yet and there are already new cuts over them. They sting terribly as he sits in the hot water, but he doesn’t think much of the pain. All of Duan Ling’s focus is on playing with the jade arc in his hands.

Duan Ling asks him, "Did my dad send you?’

“Shh.” Lang Junxia puts a finger in front of his lips. “Don’t ask. Don’t ask about anything. I’ll tell you a little bit at a time.”

“If anyone asks you, then you’ll tell them that your family name is Duan, and your dad’s name is Duan Sheng. You and I are from the Duan family in Shangzi. Your dad does business in Shangjing4 and Sichuan5 and entrusted you to your uncle’s family. As you’re older now, your dad’s sent me to come get you, to take you to Shangjing so you can start school. Got it?”

Lang Junxia puts medicinal ointment on Duan Ling’s injuries, helps him into a light, unlined garment, and wraps a sable coat that he swims in. He tells Duan Ling to sit down properly, and looks into his eyes.

Duan Ling is skeptical as Lang Junxia and he look at each other. Still, a short moment later, he nods.

“Now repeat it to me.”

“My dad’s name is Duan Sheng.”

They gallop towards the riverbank. Lang Junxia jumps off the horse, leads it to the frozen crossing, and walks next to him as it carries Duan Ling across the river.

“I’m from the Duan family in Shangzi…” Duan Ling repeats.

“I’m going to Shangjing so I can start school…” drowsy and nodding off, Duan Ling sways back and forth on the horse.

A thousand miles away, beneath Yubiguan, Li Jianhong struggles forward in the snow, limping and staggering.

He’s a mess of wounds and bruises, stumbling forward as he goes, many of his bones broken. The only thing keeping him company is the sword on his back and the red string hanging around his neck.

The red string is threaded through a pendant. The pendant is translucent and pure, a white flawless jade arc.

A gust of wind sweeps away the snow that’s fallen onto the jade and reveals a gentle glow in the dark.

Far, far away, at the other end of the world, from the other jade arc, it seems like a great force is calling him. It is the Xianbei mountains6 that even northern goshawk cannot fly across; it is the Dongquan river that fishes can never reach. That force is on the other side of the river. It is a yoke. It is also destiny.

That force seems to have its root in his soul; it flows in his veins, holding him up as he struggles onward.

Some voice seems to be gradually approaching him in the blizzard. Is it a pack of wolves running in the wasteland, or is it a whirlwind that can destroy the world?

“Benxiao7!” Li Jianhong howls.

A beautiful jet black horse with four white hoofs whips up powder as it gallops toward him.

“Benxiao—”

A warhorse’s neigh pierces the sky, rushing at Li Jianhong. Li Jinghong hangs from the reins, and mustering all his strength he throws himself onto the horse, to drape himself on its back.

“Go!” Li Jianhong shouts, and disappears into the blizzard alongside Benxiao.

They ford rivers and travel north. Gradually, the land along their journey becomes more inhabited. Lang Junxia teaches Duan Ling over and over not to tell any stranger about his previous circumstances, until Duan Ling can recite it by heart. Lang Junxia also tells him some interesting facts and anecdotes about Shangzi, and little by little Duan Ling forgets his anxieties and forgets his pain.

Duan Ling’s nightmares, like the injuries all over his body, gradually get better. By the time the cuts on his back scabs over, the other cuts have healed, and the scabs fall off, leaving behind nothing but faint traces, Lang Junxia finally finishes this seemingly endless journey, and Duan Ling sees the most prosperous city he’s ever seen.

Ocean’s colours reflect off towers, river sparkles off passing silks and carriages.8 Crossing over the western side of the Xianbei mountains, a streak of red shines through the endless wilderness as the sun sets; the Jin river wraps around the city like a twisting ribbon, glittering with the lustre of a glacier.

Shangjing is majestic and tall at dusk.

“We’re here,” Lang Junxia tells Duan Ling.

Duan Ling is all bundled up; this whole journey truly has been too cold. Duan Ling is wrapped in Lang Junxia’s arms, and the two of them look out to the distant Shangjing from the back of the horse. Duan Ling’s eyes close a bit. He feels very warm.

Night has just fallen as they reach the capital. Security is strict at the city gates; Lang Junxia hands over his papers and the guard notices Duan Ling.

“Where’d you come from?” The guard asks.

Duan Ling stares at the guard. The guard stares back.

“My dad’s name is Duan Sheng.” Duan Ling’s already memorised it inside out and backwards, and he answers, “I’m from the Duan family in Shangzi …”

The guard impatiently cuts off his autobiographical narrative. “What’s your relationship?”

Duan Ling turns to Lang Junxia.

“I’m friends with his dad,” Lang Junxia answers.

The guard scrutinises the papers over and over, but in the end he grudgingly lets the two of them inside.

The city is brightly lit; snow has piled up on both sides of the street. It is quite nearly the end of the year. A drunk by the road carries a lamp in one hand and a wine jug in the other. A songstress accompanies herself on the qin9 as she sings, and there are others, sitting or lounging, waiting outside seedy-looking taverns.

The uninhibited voices of courtesans greeting their customers spill into the night. An armed swordsman stops to look up at them. A terribly drunk rich merchant with a vibrantly-dressed woman under each arm sways back and forth and nearly overturns a noodle stand. A carriage clanks its way down the ice-covered street. With a shout of palanquin-bearers, luxurious tall palanquins leave the ground and move towards all corners of Shangjing like individual houses.

It’s forbidden to let one’s horse run on the main streets, so Lang Junxia makes Duan Ling sit on the horse and holds the reins as he walks. Duan Ling is all bundled up save for a single slit in his fur hat, through which he looks around at all of this curiously. Once they turn into a side street, Lang Junxia mounts the horse once more, and they kick up snowflakes as they gallop past imposing courtyard estates, into dark alleys.

They leave the music behind but the streets are bright all the same. Great big red lanterns hang on both sides of the quiet alleyway, the only sound being the ice cracking as their horse’s hoofs gallop past. Numerous secluded two-storey courtyard homes lean against each other at the end of the alley, lanterns hanging high above them, layer upon layer. Even this light bout of snow is blocked by their warm light.

They’re at a backdoor in a dark alley. Lang Junxia says to Duan Ling, “Come down.”

A beggar sits outside the backdoor. Lang Junxia doesn’t even bother looking at him. With the flick of a finger some change falls into the beggar’s bowl, clanging as they spin towards the bottom. Curious, Duan Ling turns his head to look at the beggar, but Lang Junxia turns him back and pats away the snow accumulated on his clothes and takes him inside. Lang Junxia knows the way and goes past the gallery in the garden, past the centre courtyard into a side wing, the bell-like clinks of hammered qin can be heard along the way.

Once they’re in a secluded parlour, Lang Junxia seems to relax. “Sit down. Are you hungry?”

Duan Ling shakes his head, and so Lang Junxia tells Duan Ling to sit on the low table before the stove, and he gets down on one knee to help Duan Ling take off his fur coat, shake the snow from his boots, and untie his ear-muffed hat. Then Lang Junxia sits down cross-legged and looks up at Duan Ling; there’s a hint of tenderness in his eyes, though it’s buried so deep that it seems to merely flicker by.

“Is this your home?” Duan Ling asks doubtfully.

“This place is called the Viburnum10. We’ll be staying here for now. In a few days I’ll take you to a new home.”

Duan Ling has never forgotten that Lang Junxia told him don’t ask anything, and so he asked very few questions on their journey, and kept a lot of his suspicions to himself like an uneasy, vigilant rabbit, but on the surface he appears rather calm — on the contrary, Lang Junxia would explain things to Duan Ling of his own accord.

“Are you cold?” Lang Junxia asks, then taking Duan Ling’s icy cold foot in his big hands, he rubs it. His brows furrow. “Your constitution is too weak.”

“I thought you weren’t going to come back again.” A girl’s silvery voice comes to them from behind Lang Junxia.

Duan Ling looks up towards the voice and realises that a pretty young woman wearing an embroidered coat has appeared outside the door, with two maids following close behind her.

“I went on a trip to get some things done.” Lang Junxia doesn’t even look around. He unties Duan Ling’s belt, turns to open their travelling bundle, takes out dry clothes, and changes Duan Ling’s outer garment. It’s not until he’s shaking out the gown that he finds the time to give the girl a glance. The girl walks into the room and stares down at Duan Ling.

Duan Ling gets a bit uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and starts to frown, but the girl speaks first. “Who is this?”

Duan Ling sits up straight and those words run through his head: I’m Duan Ling, my dad’s name is Duan Sheng…

Yet before he’s able to say them, Lang Junxia answers for him.

“This is Duan Ling.” Then Lang Junxia tells Duan Ling, “This is Miss Ding.”

Duan Ling turns to Miss Ding and cups one fist in the other hand according to the etiquette Lang Junxia taught him, and looks her up and down. That girl named Ding Zhi brightens with a smile. She puts both her hands to the left side of her waist and curtsies11, and says to him smilingly, “Greetings, Mister Duan.”

“Has that someone from the Northern Administration been by?” Lang Junxia asks absentmindedly.

“With dispatches from the border saying how the fighting’s been like under the Jiangjun mountains12, he hasn’t been by for a full three months.” Ding Zhi sits down at one side and tells a maid, “Bring us some snacks so Mister Duan can pad his stomach a bit.”

Then Ding Zhi picks up the teapot herself and pours a cup of tea, handing it to Lang Junxia. Lang Junxia takes it from her and takes a sip. “Ginger tea. It’ll help warm you up.” And he hands it to Duan Ling.

Throughout their journey, Lang Junxia was the one to taste everything that Duan Ling had to eat or drink first to see if it’s any good. Duan Ling’s gotten used to it, but when he’s drinking his tea he notices that Ding Zhi is looking at him with puzzlement, her beautifully clear eyes narrowing slightly as she gazes steadily at him.

After a short while, a maid brings them snacks. They’re all food that Duan Ling has never seen nor heard of before. Lang Junxia seems already well-versed in Duan Ling’s behaviour and reminds him, “Eat slowly. There will be dinner later.”

All along their journey, Lang Junxia has told him over and over that no matter what he was eating he mustn’t wolf down his food. It goes against what Duan Ling’s habits, but he can’t disobey Lang Junxia, and slowly he’s come to realise that no one is going to fight over food with him anymore. He immediately picks up a square of cake and takes time to chew it. Ding Zhi simply sits there, very still, as though nothing that happens in the parlour has anything to do with her.

It’s not until two boxes of food are set on the table, and Lang Junxia makes Duan Ling sit in front of the low table and tells him that he can start eating, that Ding Zhi takes the warmed wine jug from the maid and kneel down next to Lang Junxia to pour for him.

Lang Junxia raises a hand, blocking the cup with his fingers. “Drinking gets in the way of things.”

“It’s an imperial tribute from last month. Liangnan Daqu[^daqujiu].” Ding Zhi says, “You won’t try it? Madam made sure to have it ready here for when you came back.”

Lang Junxia doesn’t decline, and drinks one cup. Ding Zhi fills it up again; Lang Junxia drinks that too. Ding Zhi fills up the cup a third time, and once Lang Junxia finishes it he turns the cup over and sets it on the table.

Duan Ling stares breathlessly at Lang Junxia the whole time he drinks the wine.

Ding Zhi moves as if to pour for Duan Ling, and Lang Junxia reaches out and pinches her sleeve between two of his fingers, preventing her from doing so.

“You can’t let him drink wine,” says Lang Junxia.

And so Ding Zhi smiles at Duan Ling, I tried, her expression says.

Duan Ling really wants to try wine, but his compliance towards Lang Junxia overrides his thirst for wine.

While Duan Ling eats his dinner, his mind is constantly trying to figure out what sort of establishment this is, and what sort of relationship Lang Junxia have with this girl; his expression momentarily flickers, unable to stop himself from stealing glances between Lang Junxia and the girl — he just wants to hear them chat more.

Even now Lang Junxia hasn’t told Duan Ling why he’s brought him here. Does Miss Ding know? Why doesn’t she ask about his background?

Miss Ding looks at Duan Ling from time to time, like she’s calculating something in her head. Before long, Duan Ling puts down his chopsticks, and she finally starts to speak. Duan Ling feels like his heart’s been pulled up by a string all the way up to his throat.

“Is the food to your liking, sir?” Ding Zhi asks.

Duan Ling replies, “I’ve never had it before. It’s delicious.”

Ding Zhi starts to laugh. The maid takes away the food boxes. Ding Zhi says, “Please excuse me.”

“Go on then,” Lang Junxia says.

“How many days are you staying in Shangjing this time?” Ding Zhi asks.

“Once I settle down here I won’t leave again,” Lang Junxia answers thus.

Ding Zhi’s eyes seem to brighten, and she smiles, turning to the maid. “Take Lord Lang and Mister Duan to the guest court.”

The maid leads the way with a lantern. Lang Junxia wraps Duan Ling in his own wolf fur coat, picks him up, and through the covered gallery they come to a guest courtyard planted full of blue-green bamboo. Duan Ling can hear the sound of a cup smashing on the floor coming from not so far away, followed by a man’s drunken yelling.

“Don’t look around,” Lang Junxia tells Duan Ling, and carries him into the room. He tosses a simple instruction to the maid who follows them in, “You don’t need to wait on us.”

The maid bows out. The room is filled with a mild incense; Duan Ling doesn’t see a brazier, but it’s very warm. There’s a chimney outside that goes right into the ground, billowing smoke that signals the presence of an underground ‘dragon’ coal heater.13

Lang Junxia makes Duan Ling rinse out his mouth. Duan Ling is so tired he’s barely awake. He lies on the bed in a single unlined garment. Lang Junxia sits by the daybed. “I’ll take you out shopping tomorrow.”

“Really?” Duan Ling feels awake again.

“I’m going to sleep. I’ll be right next door.”

Duan Ling’s hand is still holding Lang Junxia’s sleeve, and he looks a bit disappointed. Lang Junxia is confused, but after watching Duan Ling for a bit he gets it — Duan Ling wants Lang Junxia to sleep with him.

Since they left Shangzi Lang Junxia has never been away from Duan Ling. They eat together during the day, and sleep together during the night. Now that Lang Junxia is going to go, Duan Ling can’t help but be afraid.

“Then …” Lang Junxia hesitates a little before saying, “Never mind. I’ll stay with you.”

Lang Junxia removes his shirt, revealing his bare, solid chest, and he gathers Duan Ling to him. Duan Ling put his head down on Lang Junxia’s sturdy and powerful arm, just the way he did before, only then do his eyelids get heavier, and he slowly falls asleep.

There’s a scent of male skin on Lang Junxia that smells good to him, as though Duan Ling has gotten used to his robe and his body, it feels like if he holds Lang Junxia as he falls asleep, he won’t have another nightmare. He has experienced too many things today, to the point where his brain is overloaded with too much information. Too many dreams, only one night, and no matter how dizzy the pace it feels like he can’t dream enough.

It stops snowing in the latter half of the night, and the world becomes extraordinarily quiet; dream after dream comes at him like mountains carried on a wave, and without knowing why, Duan Ling wakes. When he turns, all he manages to grab is a handful of warm bedding.

The Lang Junxia beside him has disappeared. His temperature remains on the blankets. Duan Ling starts to get nervous, and not knowing what to do, he climbs down the bed quietly, opens the door, and goes outside.

Light is spilling out from the next room over. Duan Ling walks through the hallway in bare feet, and goes on tiptoe to look through the window lattice.

It’s spacious and bright inside, with half the bed curtain hanging low. Lang Junxia is undressing with his back to the window.

His collar is buttoned all the way up to his adam’s apple, and he’s undoing them at a steady pace. He hangs his gown’s belt off to one side, and the garment falls away at once to reveal the expanse of his back, the fit, beautiful line of his waist and firm buttocks. His naked body is on full display, with contours like that of a muscular, slim, solid war horse. As he turns to the side, his erect male organ can clearly be seen.

Duan Ling holds his breath, and his heart beats wildly in his chest; he can’t help taking a step backwards, knocking over a flower trellis.

“Who’s there?” Lang Junxia turns to look.

Duan Ling hurriedly turns and flees.

Lang Junxia hastily wraps a robe around himself and comes out on bare feet. Duan Ling’s door closes with a bang.

By the time Lang Junxia comes in, Duan Ling’s already lying on the bed pretending to be fast asleep. Lang Junxia doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed, or simply to laugh; he goes to the water basin, wrings out a wet towel, drops his robe onto the floor, and wipes his naked body clean. Duan Ling opens his eyes, peeking at Lang Junxia’s every move. Lang Junxia turns away, and as though trying to placate some sort of agitated feeling, he wraps that rearing, aggressive thing in a cold wet cloth, and wipes it, making it docile.

The silhouette of a figure appears outside the latticed window.

“I’m going to bed. I won’t be over.” Lang Junxia says softly.

Footsteps sound, and grow distant. Duan Ling turns over to face the wall. Moments after, Lang Junxia puts on a pair of long underpants and gets under the covers, his chest against Duan Ling’s back. Duan Ling turns over, and Lang Junxia lifts his arm to let Duan Ling use it as a pillow. Duan Ling once more feels secure and he falls asleep snuggling into Lang Junxia’s chest.

Lang Junxia’s muscles, the temperature of his body and the smell of his skin, in dreams take Duan Ling back to a southern winter surrounded by the embrace of a fiery, scorching sun.

But on the same night, it is drizzling in Sichuan, tiny droplets coming down covering all that one can see.

Candlelight makes shadows of the window lattice dance through a long, covered gallery. Two silhouettes walk slowly beneath the gallery with two bodyguards trailing behind.

“Surrounded by cavalry twenty-thousand strong, and somehow they still managed to let him get away.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already laid out a net. The road leading to Liangzhou and the northeast are sealed. He’s never going to be able to fly over the Xianbei mountains unless he grows some wings.”

“I told you that it was no good handing that job to them. That guy has been fighting wars outside the great wall for years. He knows the lay of the land. Once he’s in the forests we’ll never be able to find hide nor hair of him!”

“The one on that seat has already lost his mind — he doesn’t interfere in politics anymore, and the fourth prince is a sickly thing. Since you and I have already started this, there is no turning back. Even if he comes back right now, we can punish him for dereliction of duty. General Zhao, don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“Why you!”

The one being called ‘general’ is dressed head to toe in military gear — who else, but Southern Chen’s cornerstone, Grand Marshal of the celestial empire’s imperial forces, Zhao Kui.

The man walking abreast with him on the other hand, is dressed in the purple14 robes that signifies the highest ranking of officials, first rank, a dignified position without equal.

Outside the long gallery, their shadows are cast onto the screen wall, and both sink into silence. There are two bodyguards following them, their arms crossed, neither saying a word.

The bodyguard on the left has a white tiger inscribed tattoo on his neck. A conical bamboo hat covers half his face, revealing a curve at his mouth that isn’t quite a smile.

The bodyguard on the right is a big man, fully nine feet15 tall, and from head to toe the only thing that can be seen of him are his eyes — he’s wearing gloves, a mantle, a face mask, and occasionally he’ll glance up with his sharp and malicious gaze, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

Zhao Kui says coldly, “We must send someone to intercept him right now. We’re in the light. He’s in the dark. If this drags on I fear the situation may change.”

The dignified man replies, “If he’s outside Yubiguan, then that’s not a place either of us can deploy troops. For now the only thing we can do is wait for him to show himself.”

Zhao Kui heaves a sigh. “If he seeks refuge from the Liao and comes back with borrowed troops, then things will get a lot more complicated than they are now.”

“The Liao Emperor wouldn’t lend him troops.” The dignified man says, “Arrangements have already been made with the Southern Administration. He will die on the way to Shangjing.”

“You think he’s so simple.” Zhao Kui turns to the courtyard, facing the damp, eastern rain. The hair at his temples are already going grey. His eyes are fixed on the other man, and he enunciates every word. “Li Jianhong once had a mutt working for him. He’s mixed Xiangbei and Han. Though we don’t know his name or where he comes from, I speculate that he’s the man you’ve been failing to find. That Xianbei mutt comes and goes without a trace — so much so that no one even knows what his name is. He’s the last hidden go piece Li Jianhong holds.”

“If that’s really the case,” the dignified man replies, “then I expect Wu Du and Chang Liujun would probably like to meet with him. After all, not many people can be considered fitting adversaries. Have you heard about this man?”

The bodyguard wearing a mask replies, “I know of him but not his name. Some call him the Nameless One. He has an exceedingly unsavoury record — not at all easy to manage. He probably won’t do whatever Li Jianhong asks of him.”

Zhao Kui asks, “What sort of unsavoury record?”

“He turned against his master’s house, killed his master, a crime considered patricide; he betrayed those who studied under the same master, thus went against the natural order. He’s merciless and never leaves anyone alive.” The masked bodyguard says, “Blood wind black edge, one cut brings death. That phrase refers to him.”

“To an assassin that sounds rather normal,” the dignified man says.

“One cut brings death,” says the masked bodyguard in a low voice. “That implies he won’t let anyone explain themselves. An assassin’s job is to kill, but assassins don’t kill those they need not kill.”

“Even if he killed the wrong person, this guy wouldn’t even blink,” the masked bodyguard finishes.

“If I remember correctly,” the dignified man says, “Li Jianhong probably still holds Zhenshanhe. If he possesses Zhenshanhe, that implies this man also has to listen to his orders.”

The masked guard says, “Even if Li Jianhong has the sword, he still has to be able to use the sword, that he’s able to give an order.”

“Never mind.” Zhao Kui finally cuts off this vein of conversation.

It is quiet again in the back courtyard. A long time passes. “Wu Du,” Zhao Kui starts to speak.

The guard in the conical hat behind him makes a sound of acknowledgement.

“Head out tonight,” Zhao Kui says, “move through the night and make haste, don’t stop until you find Li Jianhong. Once you find him you don’t have to do anything, I will send someone else to go with you. When it’s done make sure to bring his sword and his head back to me.”

The corner of the bodyguard’s mouth turns up in a curve. He cups his hands in acceptance, turns, and leaves.

The carriage leaves the alley behind the Estate of the General. Distant lamplight reflects off the moist flagstones.

“Have you ever seen the Qingfengjian?” The dignified man’s voice asks.16

“Everyone who’s ever seen the Qingfengjian is dead.” The masked guard looks pensive, and with a flick of the horse’s whip he drives the carriage forward to escort the dignified man on his way.

“In your opinion.” The dignified man leans back on the carriage’s cushion and asks without much thought, “How is Wu Du compared to that Nameless One?”

The masked bodyguard replies, “Wu Du has cares, the Nameless One has no cares. Wu Du’s cares lie in his competitiveness — he can’t afford to lose and he can’t let things go. And the Nameless One has no cares.”

“Has no cares?” The dignified man says.

“Only those without cares, those without matters they care about can be considered competent assassins.” The masked bodyguard says without emotion, “One who takes another’s life must first lay down their own life. Once you have emotional attachments, the assassin would subconsciously cherish their own life, not daring to use up their life, therefore they’ll fail. Supposedly this Nameless One has no relatives. He’s not killing to get to a higher rank, and he’s not killing for reward either. Perhaps killing is nothing more than a hobby to him. That’s why he’s a cut above Wu Du.”

The dignified man asks another, “And between you and Wu Du?”

The masked bodyguard says calmly, “Well I would like to fight him once.”

“Too bad you won’t get the chance to do that anymore,” the dignified man says gracefully.

The masked bodyguard does not answer.

“Then … how are you compared to Li Jianhong?” That man once again blurts out a question.

“Whoa!”

The masked bodyguard reins in the horse, opens the carriage’s curtain, and helps the man step off the carriage. A lantern with the character “Mu” written squarely on it is hanging outside the estate.

The present Prime Minister of Southern Chen: Mu Kuangda.

“Myself, Wu Du, the Nameless One and Zheng Yan acting together,” the masked bodyguard replies, “may stand a chance against his highness the third prince.”

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you read this anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Laba congee. ↩︎

It looks like this. ↩︎

上京 literally means “upper capital” and was one of the 5 capitals of the Liao dynasty when part of China was ruled by the Khitans. (It’s situated in the modern Inner Mongolia Autonomous region, in the city of Chifeng. Click for map. (All this will be kept track of on my ref page linked at the top.) ↩︎

Sichuan. ↩︎

Xianbei mountains is a historic name, and it’s probably referring to the Greater Khingan Range. It’s just a metaphor for now, but you’ll need it later, so here’s the wiki page with a map. ↩︎

Benxiao’s full name is 萬里奔霄, or “Ten thousand miles, run towards the heavens”. ↩︎

Poetry from Li Bai. ↩︎

Generally refers to what we now call the guqin, but also used for the zither type of qin that stands up. ↩︎

The full name is 瓊花院 or the “Courtyard of Viburnum”, but a specific species of viburnum that is now extinct. It was only ever successfully cultivated in Yangzhou, and when Southern Song fell to the Mongolian Yuan dynasty, the flowers went extinct along with it. (This is entirely relevant information.) ↩︎

Left hand on the left hip, right hand over left hand, look down, bend slightly at the knees for one beat. ↩︎

This would be around modern Beijing. ↩︎

These were historically known to be used during the Qing dynasty in the palace, and they’re like floor heaters. ↩︎

Highest rank, dark-red-purple. Think dark magenta. ↩︎

The ancient measurement for feet is on average 23.5cm/foot. That would make him 211.5cm or 6 ft 11 inches tall. ↩︎

Qingfengjian, literally ‘nature-edged sword’. Alternatively, nature-coloured sword. See my old note about the Chinese word for black/green/blue/nature’s colour here. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things #btw this will always update on a WEEKDAY #i have too many things already for weekend

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oopcio · 4 years

Note

henlo! I'm asking from my main but i have an ask for the arcana. How would the Main 6 react to an MC that's a Fae, like how would they see them as a person? would they trust them? I'd like to know! you don't have to do this immediately, you can take your time! - alegna-thefool

hhhhhhhh oh please yes this is so adorable tysm!!!! 💖💕💜✨🥰✨💜💕💖

ps i’m picturing this as the fae from wiccan/pagan folklore 👉🏻👈🏻

asra:

his first impression is wary, since he’s been told all his life that the fae aren’t always as friendly and kind as they seem, and that they cannot be held to human standards. maybe it started out as something as simple as losing a charm he uses often, only to find it a few days later in the backroom where he reads cards, a place he often visits. he had to be cautious while expressing his thankfulness, seeing as he didn’t want to unknowingly put himself in a contract with the fae. however, the first time he actually found you, looking around the shop at all of the potions and the crystals, his heart stopped. he spent days and weeks talking to you about all the stuff in his shop. “yes, i actually made the cards myself! ah, you really think so? why, thank you!” it was only a matter of time before he found himself thinking that maybe he could trust you, if none of the other fae. it was quite obvious to him that you weren’t like the others, you were not looking to make contracts and gather offers, you were interested in all the things that decorated the store. soon enough he wasn’t thinking of you as a fae he had to pick his words carefully around, you were just another person intrigued in his knowledge of spells and tarot. he even started to leave you offerings, even if you explained you didn’t need/want them. he’d put cute little shells, small flowers, pretty rocks, tiny crystals, pretty much anything that was small and reminded him of you. “yes! i saw this when i visited the market the other day, and i thought it’d look so adorable on your offering table. oh, please, just accept it! i got it just for you.” sure, he’d went against everything he was ever told about the fae, but he quickly realized he had no regrets about doing so, and he’d do it all over again if he had the choice.

nadia:

nadia is the type of cautious that you’re unaware of. she’s so careful in displaying her apprehension that she does it in a way you wouldn’t notice, and, the way she sees it, anything other than such would seem rude. “milady! someone is in the palace!” a servant would alert her, tension in all points of their body, proceeding to tell her that they were spotted heading into her quarters. she advised them to calm down and sent them away, claiming she’d handle it. she headed into the baths, and, sure enough, there you were, letting your legs dangle in the water as you take in the view. her intuition had immediately told her that you were no threat. in fact, she knew exactly what you were as soon as your eyes met. “i can’t seem to recall having business with anyone in my private bath,” she smiled, watching as you stride towards her. you were definitely charming, but that was to be expected. she easily loosened her stance, with her newfound peace of mind. you grab her hand gently and place a jade necklace into it. you explain that this was merely a impromptu visit, as you were here to return the necklace that rightfully belonged to her. all the other fae were far too scared to come return the pendant once they had realized that what they’d taken belonged to the countess, so you came in their stead. needless to say, nadia began to trust you almost immediately, and she even let you clasp the necklace around her, as well. “why, thank you. i apologize for all the commotion you must have faced as you tried to come into my quarters.” you told her it was certainly no trouble at all, and that it was all worth it for this moment. “i’m glad to hear that this feeling is mutual. after all, i quite enjoy your company. shall i leave offerings for you, should you wish to return?” no matter what you tell her, it will become a daily routine to have her servants place only the finest jewelry and gems as offerings for you. even if you ask for something simple, she will insist on spoiling you. “well, i’d like for you to know that you’re welcome in my quarters at any time,” she adds, the faintest blush covering her cheeks.

julian:

he’s been quite interested in things like the fae and whatnot ever since mazelinka would mention them when he was younger, and it really sparked again when asra would sometimes make a passing comment about them when they used to work together. but the poor thing is oblivious, so when his pens and notebooks start to disappear and show up again, only a few days later, at a place he frequently went to, he figured it was just himself simply misplacing his belongings and forgetting where he put them. it was nothing too worrying. well, not until he seen somebody with an incredible energy surrounding them in his office, about to place one of his medical notebooks in his drawer. “who are you? how did you get in here?” but it didn’t take long for the dots to connect in his mind - in fact, it was almost like the moment he seen your eyes, he knew what you were. but, he still had to be careful; that much he knew. you held up the notebook, lightly waving it around in answer. he let out a quiet ‘oh’ and simply took a seat, waiting with his hands outstretched for the book. you pull it back and watch all the blood rush to his face, patiently waiting for you to give it to him and hoping that you don’t open it. all hope was quickly lost, though. you open it in search for one specific page, and once you find it, you show it to him with a proud, mischievous grin. it was a drawing of a fairy, albeit not correct at all, with plenty of notes and scribbles. there was a lot of care on this page, especially, you noticed. “h-hey! i know what you’re trying to imply, but!... i’ll have you know that is... a medical... diagram...” each word got quieter and quieter, and eventually, he gave up on the explanation. you simply giggled and placed the book back in his hands, done with the teasing. “how am i supposed to make a diagram if i didn’t know what a fairy looked like until now?” he huffs, a blush spreading over his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you grin, leaning back against the wall as you seat yourself on his desk and offer to help him with his diagram. and, well, it ended up looking more like you than a general fae. hey! it was the betterment of science and medicine... and it also didn’t hurt to have you keep coming in for health check-ups.

muriel:

he first found a fairy ring in the forest, not too far from his hut, but he knew far better than to step foot inside of it. however, just because he knew better, didn’t mean he couldn’t accidentally stumble into it... hey, don’t look like that! it wasn’t his fault! he didn’t mean to! he just had a misstep! what he didn’t expect - never in a million years, in fact - was to come home one day (from trying to set protections against the fae, ironically) and find a fae in his hut. even when inanna tried to walk forward to greet this being (which, she never did, by the way), he was cautious. “why are you in my hut,” he would ask, doing anything and everything he could to avoid your eyes. you’d explain to him that you come to try and help him set protections against the other fae, since you knew how they could be and how to properly do so. a whole evening later, spent putting up the protections and complimenting his handiwork around the hut just to see how adorably flustered he’d get. then he realized it’d be a real shame if he had just put up a protection against you, especially with your help, but how could he say that in a way that wasn’t weird? “..........hey, um......... does this keep you out, too?..........” his eyes quickly widened. “not that i want to keep you out!.....” he huffed, getting all flushed again, and you smiled. you explained that if he wanted, he could set up a small offering table for you. you wouldn’t ask for much, and you didn’t want to trouble him. you just didn’t want this to be the last time your paths crossed. and then began a tradition! each day he’d place a small flower or blade of grass he found on a table inside the den of the hut, and when you came around, you’d sometimes help him place protections or even weave flower crowns with him. sure, he acted like he absolutely hated it, and he’d cringe when you placed the forget-me-nots on his head, but he’d always get flushed and turn his head to hide the smile that threatened to creep up on his lips. you even made inanna one to match with muriel!

portia:

she definitely had no prior knowledge about the fae. she thought they were just made up, but she was familiar with the little fairy houses some people put in their gardens, and she thought that was just so cute! even pepi might enjoy it, so, when she made one, she thought nothing of it. but as soon as she found a fae, a real one, she was caught waaay off guard. because she didn’t know anything other than the made up bits, she will definitely ask a lot of questions. “so, can you really fly around? do you carry little pouches of fairy dust around with you? ooh! can you put some on my garden?” you explain to her, telling her what is myth and what is fact. while you’re at it, you cautiously (and politely) warn her of the dangers of attracting forces you don’t know a lot about, and she takes the information to heart. “i swear on pepi i’ll never do something so silly again!” she beams at you when you do offer to help her with her garden, and you even make it a bit of a routine. you playfully take turns pushing flowers in each other’s hair until it seems there are more flowers than hair. she takes great care of the fairy house from this point on, decorating it with little rocks and plants in case you ever want to stay there. if you ever tell her, though, that it might be better if she takes it down so none of the other fae can take advantage of her kindness, she will listen to you and take it down as soon as possible. she greatly enjoys your company and soon enough, you spend many mornings drinking tea together in the cottage while the both of you cuddle and pet pepi.

lucio:

“what do you MEAN my exotic golden spoons and forks are gone?! i had them RIGHT HERE!!!” he notices that his priceless belongings keep going missing and he blames it on the servants at first, only to find them a few days later. still doesn’t stop him from damning everyone and everything he comes into contact, though. “where is my EYELINER?!” he shrieks, only to find an ethereal looking being in his quarters, placing his stolen goods back on his dresser. they look back and smile, quickly apologizing for their friends who seem to get a kick out of taking his belongings (but, like, who doesn’t?). the absolute charm and the energy this being carries has him literally swooning, bending over backwards to insist it was no trouble at all. “oh don’t worry!!! when you’re this charming you can get away with sneaking into my room anyday.” he takes great interest in the fact that there is what is known as a ‘fae’ in his room, a term he’s only heard a handful of times in stories growing up, as he’s roamed here and there. expect many questions coming your way. “do you have wings?! can you make yourself small? like, the size of my pinky?!” he’d definitely start to leave offerings of lots of gold and expensive things, even if you asked for something simple, but he’d always make note that it was for you only. he’s definitely angered the other fae by now, though. you better prepare him for many misfortunes.

(a/n: woa these ended up coming out really long, sorry!!!! i really enjoyed writing these, esp muriels 👉🏻👈🏻 hope you don’t mind!!!)

- jiah 💖

#the arcana #faerie #fae #reactions #the arcana reacts #writing #ask #jiah writes #alegna-thefool

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moonlightreal · 3 years

Text

Fate Episode One

At long last, it’s tiiiiiime!

First: whitewashing bad. Fact acknowledged. Everybody else has said everything on the subject (ad nauseum...) so no reason to say it all again!

I’m diving in with questions. The main one is “Will there be a good reason for Musa to be a mind fairy rather than a music fairy?” Dunno why that’s what I’m wondering the most, but it is. There’s also “Is Fate!Stella truly an unholy union of Stella and Diaspro?” and “so what makes them fairies not witches/psychics/mutants?” and “So what’s up with Beatrix? We know nothing about her, and as an Umineko fan I’m favorably disposed towards witches named Beatrice!” and also “They’re not really having sex are they?!”

I’m going to try and approach Fate just like I do every season of the cartoon, ready to celebrate the good, snark at the bad, enjoy many headcanons, reference random stuff, and have a good time. Pretending I haven’t had my fannish heart nigh to broken by the state of the fandom and that I’m worried I’ll get hate for even posting this. I’m’a try to start from zero to find my own answer the really big question… “Good, bad, or totally irredeemable?”

So… In which we discover a new world.

We start with… a night scene. Not promising when “too dark can’t see” is one of my pet peeves! An old fella comes out to check on his cute Irish sheep. He passes through the barrier, into the dangerous forest beyond to look for a missing sheep. Yup, he’s gonna be guest victim in the first five minutes.

Oh no! Something has disemboweled a sheep and left it hanging in a tree! Clearly there are leopards in the magical realm!

There is a great roar and an unseen but very large-sounding beast chases our poor shepherd! The guy trips and falls just as he’s about to get through the barrier and is set upon and devoured by the unseen beast! Blood spatters the rocks!

Opening! It’s the wings we’ve sen and some really beautiful music. One point for the music.

Then a gorgeous flying shot of the outside of the barrier and Alfea. Whatever the plot turns out to be, the outdoor setting is beautiful. Music that seems to be both pop and edgy plays as we zoom in on the logo on the gate, and there’s Bloom coming in the gate.

And there’s Terra with her father and a tray full of plants.

And there’s Aisha walking by with her dreads

And there’s Stella taking a selfie with other students.

And there’s Musa leaning on her suitcase, headphones on, looking at her phone. Another girl says something to Musa and she turns and replies and smiles.

And there’s one of the guys twirling a knife. I’ve heard Sky starts out in a pink shirt so this must be Riven. The camera comes back to Bloom as she gives him a doubtful look. In the novelization she’s mentally labeling him an edgelord, and that kinda fits. Any dude showing off his willingness to twirl weapons at a high school probably is best avoided—except the dudes here are training to fight so the weapons rules must be different. I wonder if Bloom knows yet that dudes with swords are normal here.

Bloom gets a text to meet Stella at the gate. She waits.

Camera pan to Sky talking to another guy. Sky looks… Sky-ish. Chris Evans style handsome, blond. I’d’ve made him grow his hair to mimic cartoon Sky’s silly shaggy haircut, but points for making Sky look like Sky! Minus points for not dying Riven maroon. They could’ve made it work!

Sky is indeed wearing a pink shirt. In the novelization Bloom thinks he’s wearing it “because gender roles were for the weak” which is a line I think is funny and intend to use in a story somewhere. There is no obvious hint in the show that Sky thinks gender roles are for the weak

Bloom’s tired of waiting. She heads off. Sky ditches his buddy to go meet her. “Wow, you are so lost. I’m impressed with your confidence in the face of complete ignorance. Issue is, you’re overcomitted. You’re essentially running. And now that I’m here you can’t possibly give me the satisfaction of turning around.” he says, all in one go.

I can’t decide if that’s jerkish or charming. Maybe Bloom shares my weakness for men with accents because she decides on charming.

Bloom says she’s a fairy, giggles because that’s something she never thought she’d say, they’re standing in the courtyard of a college for fairies, Bloom’s from California, not the Otherworld. So we get all that established. Sky is kinda charming here and points out the specialists’ hall and fairy hall.

Sky: “I’d be happy to-”

Bloom: “Mansplain it?”

So the writing team does know some modern issues! Bloom says Sky seems like a mansplainer, which seems like quite a leap since she is new and he is helping her, in a friendly-sarcastic kind of way. She’s giggling, clearly charmed.

Then Riven comes up, and he’s like a foot shorter than Sky, and Bloom escapes for some reason so maybe she wasn’t enjoying the conversation as much as it looked? Or maybe it was just the plot needs to move along. Riven glomp-hugs Sky. He’s got a great accent too.

Bloom must’ve left because she saw Stella, they say hello. Bloom says she got impatient waiting and Stella says, “How very American of you” So American stereotypes are known in magical worlds also?

So, Stella! Blonde, tall, zero Stella vibe. Accent. Long pale coat and a satiny top with big chunky pendant. She gets to her ring quick, “Portal ring, the only thing that keeps me sane in this place is the ability to leave it. Your world may not always be thrilling but it beats this one. There are seven realms in the Otherworld, each a different kind of boring.” All spoken in a jaded monotone. Ugh, what have they done to our Stella!

The girls walk inside while Stella speaks, the school is pale stone and arches and plants. Other students are arriving, hauling suitcases, hugging. At least some of them seem happy to be here!

Cut to the globe! and it’s a magical globe, the water moves and there are lil sailing ships! But the lands are totally blank, so it’s a cheap magic globe Dowling didn’t pay enough for the one with tiny forests too. Alfea is in the realm of Solaria.

Maybe they shouldn’t have made Ireland = Solaria. I’ve only been to England but we did not see the sun the whole trip! Bloom’s in Dowling’s really cool office. She spins the globe but the camera pans away before we see the names of the other realms. Bloom’s talking nervously about seeing people updating their insta stories, expecting Tinkerbells, and the lack of wings.

Dowling: “We had wings in the past. As we’ve evolved, transformation magic has been lost. Tink was an air fairy, you’re a fire fairy.”

Dowling says classes tomorrow, learn to use magic slowly but safely… we establish Bloom is here to learn to control her magic so she can go home and not keen on ‘slow.’ Dowling says, ‘trust the process’ which immediately makes me mistrust her.

Then she gives a great lil speech: “Alfea’s graduates have ruled realms and led armies. They have forged powerful relics and rediscovered long lost relics. They shape the otherworld.”

But Bloom just wants to get done and go home. She says, ‘I'm here because you promised you’d teach me control.” and Dowling says, ‘no, you’re here because you knew you have no other choice.” and Bloom looks betrayed.

Yeah Dowling’s sus.

Next scene: Bloom showing her dorm to her parents over video call! How does that work between dimensions? Her folks look nothing like Mika and Vanessa, dad’s got a beard and silver temples, mom’s got big blonde curls. Neither of them have burn injuries or the sort of freaked out vibe I’d expect from folks whose house was just on fire.

Roommate pan-around! Terra puts potted plants everywhere! Stella preens at the vanity! Musa headphones-and-laptop but smiles at Terra. Aisha comes in with her laundry bag.

Bloom’s parents get suspicious about the timezone thing, they think Bloom’s in the Alps, and Aisha comes and covers for her saying it’s time for lights out.

Aisha intro! She is wearing a pink and brown checkered dress that’s not super fashionable or flattering. I like her blue braids though. Aisha does not seem to have the accent that many Alfeans have.

Bloom explains the “human parents, fairy daughter, I must be a throwback to an ancestor” thing. Aisha looks dubious. Then they mention Harry Potter!

Bloom; ‘Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin.’

Aisha; ‘Explains the lies then. Gryffindor.’

Bloom: ‘Explains the judgment.’

Congrats, you both were jerks in three short lines. 9_9 But they’re smiling so I guess it’s friendly sniping.

Bloom goes to see Stella, who’s holding up sparkly tops to herself. She’s also got this weird rainbow skirt that looks like gymnastics clothes not real clothes. Stella’s changing for the party because people have already seen her in her clothes. Bloom asks confused, ‘People expect you to wear multiple outfits?’ and Stella comes back with, ‘people expect me to care how I look.” In the same jaded monotone.

Before Bloom can WTF outta there like a sensible person Stella snaps her fingers and creates a ball of light. Bloom gapes, but not nearly as much as I feel like she should. The magic is beautiful, it’s all rainbowy and sparkly. Bloom just hesitantly asks, ‘Can I ask, how exactly you..?” and Stella shuts her down with an almost kind, “I’m a mentor, not a tutor.”

But she does give a little infodump. “Fairy magic is tied to emotion. God thoughts, bad, hatred, fear, the stronger the emotion the stronger the magic.”

And Bloom says, ‘Do you hate me or fear me? You were looking at me when you did that. And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me.” Smart cookie, Bloom! Points to you! We know it’s because Bloom was talking to sky, and that gives Stellla some emotions.

And points to Stella, she thaws out her voice and talks like a real person, ‘I don’t know you. I’m sure once I do I’ll find something to love.” She sounds rather doubtful about the last bit but yay actual emotion!

Then Stella goes over to Terra for her intro scene and I cringe because the novelization did Terra dirty and I’m not keen to see it on screen. But it works ok. Stella gently calls Terra on the number of houseplants and says the secret garden was better kept secret, Terra responds that wasn’t really the message of the book, Stella looks at her with amused patience and leaves Musa and Terra to continue the scene. And I decide if there’s no infodump about how earth and the Otherworld relate to each other in this show I shall be cross.

Then Terra chatters on about her family and how she grew up at Alfea since her dad works here (she’s holding a 100% fake plant) and drops that Stella is a second year. Musa asks why a second-year is in a first-year suite and Terra says it’s some administrative thing probably best not to mention. But Terra totally knows the secret.

Musa’s eyes glow purple. Magic! But we don’t hear what she hears. She starts putting her headphones on. Terra goes on to say they should all not mention it to Stella, then interrupts another headphones-attempt to offer Musa a succulent, “They’re low maintainence, perfect for you, not that I really know you...’

Musa: ‘If I take it will you stop talking?”

Terra visibly deflates and Musa apologizes and grabs the succulent before finally getting to escape into music.

Aisha leans in to ask Terra if Alfea has a pool. It has a river and Aisha’s been swimming—twice a day every day! Terra says no pool, just the pond where the specialists train but nobody swims there, at least not on purpose.

And we immediately cut out to the pond, which looks pretty mucky, I wouldn’t want to swim there either! Two specialists, a boy and a girl, are whacking away at each other with wooden swords on the shore. They’re all dressed in black pants and tank tops, very Divergent movie poster except with the Alfea logo on the front. There’s a bunch of specialists training all around the pond and one does indeed knock their opponent in with a splash! But we home in on Sky and Riven and I cannot get over how short and skinny Riven is compared to Sky! And the fact that I’ve just been rewatching Lord of the Rings and Riven doesn’t look 100% not like Dominic Monaghan… sorry Riven’s actor, I’m sure in future episodes I’ll stop thinking you’re a hobbit!

Anyway, Riven’s teasing Sky about his crush on Bloom, says Sky always goes for the crazy ones and all redheads are crazy. Sky puts Riven on the mat and Riven says he was getting high all summer and not practicing. Before Sky can give him a “big brother speech” on that riven skedaddled because here comes the teacher with a different speech!

This show’s Codatorta, whose name is Silva and who looks very irish and I like him, does a little speech about how y’all gotta train, singles out a black guy I think is Dane and says, ‘even you will be able to fight like him.” and attacks Sky, who fights back. They spar for a minute.

Infodump: “Sky’s father was Andreas of Eraklyon, that makes him a legacy.” Also, some of these kids are from families of specialists and some were selected by Silva based on their talent for combat and weaponry. “This place will seem like hell until actual hell comes. We are the first line of defense, a certainty when the future is uncertain!’

Then Dane snickers about the whole ‘school full of kids with swords’ and Silva says it must be nice to be so ‘soft’ he can make fun. And Dane drops that the barrier exists ‘to protect the school from Burned Ones.”

As he says it, we cut to Sky going out through the barrier to smoke.

Burned ones are gone. But Silva saw one when he was a kid. His father shot it but was killed by the Burned One’s poison. Burned Ones are inhumanly strong and fast, and have a terrible poison, or disease that kills people who get away.

Sky looks over and sees the shepherd’s body. Yikes!

Cut to the staff arriving to look at the remains. Just three: Dowling, Codatorta, and Terra’s dad. Is that the whole staff? Who teaches? Could’ve been a wolf or a bear… Terra’s dad collects some gunk from the body and I think calls it “char residue.”

Dowling says, “She killed all the Burned Ones.”

She? This world’s Marion/Daphne, likely.

But the adults clean it up so the kids can party! Our girls are gathered around the food, and they’re better dressed! Aisha’s got her hair up and a blue hoodie, Musa’s got a little red coat. Terra has not been blessed by the fashion fairy, she’s in some overalls it looks like, not flattering. Terra is saying hopefully that maybe the shepherd died of old age and Musa’s ‘Yeah, that old age decapitation” is gentle ribbing not cruel.

Aisha’s loading up a stack of cookies, says how much she eats and, ‘If I didn’t swim I’d be massive.” it’s not aimed at Terra , but Terra flinches. Aisha heads off and Terra says something that boils down to, ‘Musa, you’re tuning out me in particular.” which, Terra you’ve known Musa for what, six hours? Way too short a time to take it personal. Musa says, ‘It’s a me thing, it’s not you.” and Terra just flusters and heads away. Musa looks troubled but not sure what to do and puts her headphones on.

This is SO much better than in the book. Not perfect, all the interactions between the girls have been very weird as if they’ve been given a script full of cruel catty lines and instructed to say them in a kind way, but at least they’ve tried for the vibe of “trying to be nice to people we don’t know yet and flubbing it” rather than “we are all terrible people” like I feared.

Terra meets her dad and tries to go to the greenhouse with him but he makes her stay to enjoy the party.

Cut to some grownup dude—Dowling’s secretary? Apparently searching for something in a desk that I presume is outside the headmistress’ office.

Beatrix… or possibly a gothed-up Bloom… comes to see Dowling and when told the headmistress isn’t in says, ‘I’ll just take a water, room temp, thanks love.’ and then when the door opens Beatrix greets Dowling with a simpering ‘I'm your biggest fan, I’m obsessed with Alfea...” and cascading apologies for swearing, with more swearing. Dowling and her secretary are as confused by this as I am but Dowling says Beatrix can study the history of Alfea in the library if she wants to. I assume this is evil Beatrix slyly getting permission to hit the books. Is Beatrix even a student at Alfea?

Cut to Bloom’s notebook, she’s already started taking notes about powers being linked to emotions, love hate and fear. Great initiative Bloom, but are there no textbooks you could be reading ahead in?

We get dumped back to a flashback: Bloom’s mom wants her to go out on a Saturday night, to a party or a movie or whatever teen thing. All Bloom wants to do is go to antique sales apparently. Bloom doesn’t want to be a “basic bitch” like her mom and her mom doesn’t want her daughter to be a “weird loner.”

Pause while I urban dictionary “basic bitch.” Huh. Not a term I ever heard in my circle of nerds.

Bloom and her mom are awful to each other. Back in the present Bloom’s eyes flame up as she remembers. She decides it’s time to go experiment! Right now! Before even one day of magic class or one page of a textbook! The idiot ball has entered play.

Night has fallen because of course it has. Bloom runs into Sky at the party. But she’s not looking to party, she’s looking for a place to be alone outside. Sky directs her to beyond the barrier, because we’re about to have Plot. If it weren’t for Plot I‘m sure Sky could’ve suggested a specialist workout area inside the barrier. Sky says there might be wolves or bears or “maybe something much scarier” and Bloom catches the idiot ball and says, ‘But no people? Perfect!”

Sky offers to go with her but Bloom says no thanks in a “I think you may be flirting and I may be down for that in the future just not right now.” kind of a way. Good character interaction! Except Stella grabs Sky for a chat once Bloom heads out to meet the Plot.

Sky and Stella have an opaque exchange that really just establishes they have a past of some sort that everyone knows about because everyone stares—or at least Stella thinks everyone is staring. I’m starting to feel weirdly sorry for this Stella who has none of her namesake’s sparkle and confidence. Why does she think all the realms are boring? Is she ever enthusiastic?

...wait, it’s still day! Why was it night inside?? This show is weird about lighting. Gosh Ireland is beautiful! Where’s this castle they got to be Alfea? Can I go there? This FOREST! It is a fully magical forest. Aisha is swimming in the river, with goggles and a cap but Bloom heads into the amazing forest. Good music here too! Forests and magic and music, come on Fate you CAN be a good show, I believe in you! Just put down the idiot ball and step away... Bloom goes through the barrier and outside it sees a swirl of orange and white sparkles in the air. She watches it and laughs and then hikes through a little more forest.

Finding a clearing Bloom calls her fire. At first she can’t, then she looks through the pictures on her phone looking for emotion. “Pictures of my sad teenage years are not happy thoughts. Noted.” She says with an angsty little smile. Then there’s a photo of the burned out house. She zooms in and stares at it taking in all the details. And we get flashbacks to the line of fire racing towards her parents’ bed.

Fire! Bloom turns her handful of fire this way and that, delighted, then tries for two hands. This is the scene from the trailer, playing with fire. Good music here. And good that Bloom thought the magic was neat… uuuuntil she realizes she doesn’t know how to put it out. She freaks out and waves her hands around trying to blow out the flames.

Aisha comes to the rescue and says dumb things like, “You’re losing control.” and “If you get angry at me...” and Bloom does get angry and throws lines of fire right at Aisha. Who looks terrified. Sensibly, but also has she never seen fire magic before? She grew up in a magic realm, does she know nothing about how to help someone get control? Is control taught to magical babies so teenagers rarely see someone wigging out? But if magic is emotion then everyone will lose control sometime since we all get upset. How does an emotion=magic society function?

Anyway. aisha pulls water up from the ground and puts out the flames.

Inside Aisha gives Bloom what for about losing control. Including, “Is that American for sorry I almost set you on fire?” Srsly, this show is Irish people and Italians stealth throwing shade at Americans! *Laughs in January 2021* Bloom retorts that she went away from people to experiment for just that reason, and tells Aisha about not having had fairy parents or any magical experience.

Aisha responds with the story of flooding her school including the toilets and having to wade through poo. (I also tend to call it poo, after watching Mike Rowe. I wonder if they watch Dirty Jobs in the Otherworld.)

And Bloom tells her story. Bloom isn’t a cheerleader, she likes antiques and staying home by herself, so she and her mom don’t get along. Her parents removed her door, which is awful! And Bloom got flamey eyes and sent fire straight at her parents while they slept. While Bloom sat on her bed in a rage trance. Understandable level of fury after that fight. And Bloom feels awful, also understandable. And she snuck out to sleep in a creepy warehouse to protect her parents. Her folks didn’t know it was her of course, they don’t know about magic.

Aisha says that beats her flood story, but Aisha is also wondering about something. “You drew on a good deal of magic without even trying. it’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline. Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Bloom laughs. Then says she heard the story of her birth a million times, she was a miracle baby diagnosed with a heart defect but then after birth her heart was fine.

Aisha: “Oh god, you’re a changeling!” … ‘It’s barbaric and it barely ever happens anymore….”

Bloom has had enough and just says, “why would you even tell me that?” and leaves. Musa comes over and asks Aisha what she said. Aisha: “The truth. Because someone’s been lying to her.”

Cut to Dowling, lookin’ sus!

This changeling thing had better be fully explained later. Why was it done in the past? Why is it considered barbaric? What happened to the parents’ real kid? I assume she died of the heart condition, but that’s a bigole dangling bit of Plot. In the unlikely event that Fate goes for many seasons that baby will turn up with magic too or as a specialist or something.

Dowling pours tea. Then she telekinetically locks her office door and opens a secret passage! Dowling is sus.

Back at the party, where it again seems to be night. Dane is leaning on a column hangin out when here comes Riven with a flask! He offers, Dane says no thanks, Riven says, ‘There are two types of first-years: pussies and aspiring former pussies.” and pours the entire flask’s worth of booze into Dane’s cup anyway.

Dane says something about, “It feels like less a binary choice and more like a spectrum.” And points for the actor delivering this line like it’s a sarcastic comment on social juscice-ness rather than the large sign saying “Dane is not straight!’ that the writers intended. Dane drinks, makes a face, and Riven bullies him into drinking the rest, tipping the glass so Dane chokes.

Terra rides to the rescue, “Bullying the first-years? Can you be more basic?” and Riven says Dane was into it which he wasn’t.

Terra: “Thinks he’s some badass but you should’ve seen him last year he was just a tragic nerd in disguise.”

Riven: “And she’s just three people in disguise.”

Dane does call Riven out on that bit of nastiness but Terra just does a great lil speech and strangles Riven with vines. Thought I’d hate that but I kinda liked it. Go Terra. Then she introduces herself to Dane, says that wasn’t a great first impression but Dane says he’s about to make an impression by throwing up after a single drink, and Terra hurries him away presumably to the nurse.

Bloom google-imaged changelings! Lotsa woodcuts, someone’s fanart entitled “horror of fairy babies.’ There’s more nuance to it than that… Bloom looks at a family photograph.

There’s Stella, coming to be sympathetic? Nope, she’s coming to conivingly advance the plot! “You know there’s no shame in that, wanting a normal life, wanting to be home...”

When the girls get back Bloom is nowhere to be found. Musa mind-reads that Stella is wracked with guilt, They put it together, Bloom was talking to Sky and now she’s gone. Apparently Stella did something nasty to the last girl who talked to Sky. Terra is kinda straight up badass. Stella confesses, she kindly loaned Bloom the portal ring so she could go back to “the first world” but to use it Bloom has to go deep into the forest outside the barrier to a door in a graveyard.

Portal’s super low special effects, Bloom pushes open a door in a cemetary, the ring glows, and Bloom walks into what must be the warehouse she hid out in.

It’s very dark inside both buildings but away from the cemetary it seems to still be day so we can see a Burned One’s shadow coming towards the portal. Day and night seem to depend on location in this show, and anywhere you need a monster it’s gonna be dark! Bloom seems to leave the magic portal open and we see her step out on the warehouse into a weirdly well-lit night on earth.

Real actual nighttime on earth. Bloom walks to her parents’ house and calls them from outside. Her dad’s surprised she called twice in one day. This call her folks seem just worried and nice, not awful like they were in the flashback. Bloom cries. She can’t ask her parents about the changeling thing. Her mom says very kind, ‘Your path isn’t like mine or your father’s but I can’t wait to see who you become.” Bloom hangs up and cries and watches her parents in their house, then walks back to the warehouse to return to Alfea.

But first we get to see where she was camping! In a little office in the warehouse. She brought a lot of stuff, bedding and pictures for the walls and everything. She opens a notebook and we see that she was experimenting already, discovered she was fireproof, wondered if she had superpowers. Then she senses something and looks out through an interior window into the rest of the warehouse.

Yikes! it’s a Burned One!

Bloom staggers back, trips, and drops Stella’s ring down a grate in the floor.

Bloom’s never heard of Burned Ones at this point but she knows a monster when she sees one. She cowers, back to the wall. The Burned One breaks through the window and tries to grab her!

Bloom escapes into some kind of tunnel, I guess she opened the grate that the ring fell through? It’s not totally clear. There’s the ring, on the other side of a different grate or screen, Bloom can’t reach it, there’s lots of roaring, Bloom runs like hell!

And there’s Dowling! She says, ‘don’t stop now.’ and gestures Bloom through the door back to the cemetery. The door closes behind her. Terra, Musa and Aisha are waiting to make sure Bloom’s ok. Bloom says the Burned One got the ring.

Stella, meanwhile, is on Sky’s bed when he comes out of the shower! Dressed, at least.

Sky is not interested. “You can’t be here, Stell. If Silva finds out-’ Sky goes for his trousers but Stella comes over and snuggles up to his bare back. Sky is still not keen. Seems Stella dumped him then went silent all summer and now she’s jumping in since he talked to Bloom. Stella… comes out and says, “I got jealous. I did something really stupid.” and she says, “I can’t sleep in a room where everybody hates me.” For sending Bloom into danger to get home when that’s what Bloom wanted? Not great, Stella, but hateworthy? Did the girls all tell her they hate her or does Stella just think she’s an awful person? And is Stella actually desperately unhappy or is she just trying to get in Sky’s pants? Not sure what to take away from this. Sky hugs Stella and tells her she’s better than she thinks she is.

The others get back to the dorm and Aisha reassures Bloom that Dowling can take care of the Burned One.

Cut to Beatrix leaving her raid on the library with armfuls of books. She passed Riven, who’s smoking. They say flirty things and Beatrix says she’s been “snorting the midnight adderall” to show that she’s a bad girl. Riven offers her a puff but her hands are full of books so they do this almost-kiss so Riven can blow smoke into her mouth. Erotic, also gross. Is that a real thing people do? Riven asks Beatrix if she’s a first-year and she says “I’m lots of things” and walks off leaving Riven and the room he’s in, which has the most gorgeous arched windows with trees in them. Is this place real? It’s the same place the party was but now it’s night and these windows are glowing green with tree outlines in them. This has gotta be something the filmmakers added.

Pajama scene in the girls’ suite, Terra waters plants, Musa hops in bed with headphones on. Terra does a needy little wave. Musa reluctantly un-headphones. Terra offers a speaker she borrowed from her brother so Musa can have her music without shutting other people out.

And I cringe so hard because just let people tune you out if they want! Communicate by whiteboard! People not wanting to share doesn’t mean they hate you, it means they have their own thoughts they’re busy with! Come on Terra, be better than your novelization self!

Musa calls Terra out on her fake-happy bullshit. Musa can feel all of Terra’s insecurities and anger. Seems like maybe empaths shouldn’t have to share a room! What’s the range on mind reading? How did Musa hit 16 without learning to tune stuff out or going mad? But Musa says, ‘but if you want to know how I really feel...” and switches her music to a speaker, it’s guitar-y and nice.

Up in Dowling’s office, Silva says she should’ve killed the Burned One not left it chained up and knocked out in a shack outside the barrier. Dowling needs to investigate this Burned One, see if there are more of them. Then Dowling spills that Bloom is a changeling, from the time the last Burned One disappeared. And she says, “Rosalind kept so much from us. I’m worried about the students. The Alfea they know is very different from the one we attended.” There’s something very “there was a war before” about the two of them. Dowling may not be sus after all, though that may make her a terrible headmistress depending on how the next episodes go.

Montage of sleeping students. Terra and Dane are texting. Dane accidentally likes one of Riven’s sexy photos. Riven’s pleased. Sky and Stella are sharing a bed but after the last scene I can’t imagine they actually did anything. Sky seemed pretty unseduceable.

And outside a Mysterious Cloaked Figure passes through the barricade, finds the Burned One in the hut, and zaps it awake with lightning. It pushed back its hood… Beatrix! So if she undid her too-tight braids she’d be Stormy? So is Beatrix the villain? I mean obviously she’s a villain but the threat of the Burned Ones feels... bigger than one teenager in Bratz clothes who has not got the presence of even one Trix much less all three wrapped up together. But anyway she’ gets to be a doomful cloaked figure at the end of episode one.

Very pretty ending credits music. Listened to it several times. I can’t understand the lyrics which is probably just as well. Is it in irish or is it just sung in a way to not have clear lyrics? C’mon fate, Irishness is a big thing you’ve got going for you, please milk it for all its worth!

I… I LIKED it! Now my friends say future episodes get worse so I can’t get my hopes too high but this wasn’t awful. None of the girls really had any vibe of their characters, only Bloom and Sky really look like Bloom and Sky. The worldbuilding is lacking, I’m left with more questions than answers.

And oh god one episode was ten pages and about five hours. I… I meant to do this with every episode but I’m not sure I can. There’s so much to comment on it takes forever. Maybe I’ll do each one in parts. Or maybe I’ll abandon the writing and just watch the show like a normal person. It’s a lot of fun to fine-toothed comb each scene but I’m’a be here forever!

#fate the winx saga

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

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Fur and Feathers

So, a Shifter AU. I’ll probably dip into this verse quite a bit. This is part 1 of XiCheng, pre-relationship (at the Cloud Recesses) and setting it up for the later parts of their story and relationship. There’ll definitely be some Wangxian to be written here as well as more XiCheng. Throw your requests at me if you want to see other’s etc and I’ll see if I can fit them into the verse. It wasn’t touched on for the purpose of this fic but LXC is a mountain hawk-eagle, I love how this fits because many of the pictures I’ve seen have the MHE having a tufty cluster of feathers on their head which is similar to the ornament LXC wears in the live action version.

Title taken from Jordan L Hawke’s hexworld series where the animal familiars tend to use “fur and feathers” as a curse/exclamation, because I’m not very creative with titles.

3.4k of cats being cats. Crack, probably?

XiCheng Part 1

Why had he let Wei Wuxian talk him into this? Jiang Cheng thought in despair as his sleek, black-furred body slipped urgently from deep shadow to shadow, trying to avoid the Lan Sect disciples who he could hear follow behind with their light, even steps. He panicked, crouched low to the ground in the lee of a bush and looked around for any escape.

There, there was a door that was still open to the cool night air.

He put everything he had into his legs and made a dash for the doorway.

The Lan disciples spotted the form of deeper shadow moving in the darkness of the night, but as he made the door he heard one of them stop the other, “You know we can’t enter the Hanshi, Zewu-jun will have to deal with whatever it is...”

Zewu-jun! Lan Xichen! Oh fuck. His claws scrabbled to gain purchase on the wooden floor.

He had to get out of the Hanshi, now, at all costs. He’d rather face the two chasing disciples than Lan Xichen, with him vulnerable in this form.

He had just altered his momentum and changed direction for the opened doorway again, when he felt gentle hands catch him around the ribcage and lift him up.

He yowled in outrage; take your hands off of me, how dare you ruffle my beautiful, sleek fur.

“Calm down, little one” the gentle, melodious voice was of course the First Jade of Lan’s; he was in so much trouble, “What a beautiful little thing you are. I wonder where you came from. None of the new students are registered as cat shifters”

That was his mother’s fault, Madam Yu Ziyuan was mortally embarrassed her male child, instead of a majestic king cat like his tigress sister, or even a sturdy, protective dog breed like his “useless” Samoyed father, had dared to be born a domestic cat shifter. You just couldn’t trust genetics.

He hissed at the sudden movement as Lan Xichen lifted him, and he wanted to dig a hole to bury himself when he realised the other was checking his bits to determine his sex.

I will scratch your insolent eyes out, shameless creature, he howled his rage, claws flexing impotently at the end of his delicate paws.

“There, there” he was folded into the other’s arms, “such a beautiful little boy” a soft finger scratched gently at his head.

No, please, no, no, no. This was bad…

The finger moved down the scruff of his neck and hit the point directly between his slender shoulder blades.

Nooooo.

He couldn’t stop the gentle rumble that began deep in his chest as Lan Xichen rubbed at one of the spots that was guaranteed to coax his purr from him.

He wanted to dig that hole even deeper as the sound of contentment and pleasure rolled from him in waves. Like most shifters sometimes his instincts were stronger than his ability to suppress them, and sometimes Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but want to curl up in someone’s lap and be stroked like the precious baby his animal was.

Wei Wuxian loved to tease him about it. But then what did Wei Wuxian not like to tease anyone about?

He couldn’t complain too much as Wei Wuxian, his adopted brother and Jiang Yanli, his elder sister, were the only two people he could really ask to provide such a service on demand.

“That’s such a lovely sound” Lan Xichen complimented him, keeping up the fusses that caused it, perpetuating Jiang Cheng’s internal conflict.

Lan Xichen moved over to the table that contained a half-used tea set, and sat down, with Jiang Cheng in his lap.

It turned out the only shameless thing was himself, as he curled up, nose under tail, and let his animal take complete control.

It was much later that evening when Jiang Cheng stirred himself; he really ought to think about escaping and returning back to Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang, who would no doubt be enjoying their smuggled Emperor’s Smile, safely achieved due to Jiang Cheng’s drawing the patrolling Lan disciples away.

He rose to four paws and stretched lazily, but as he looked up into the delicate, handsome face of the first Jade of Lan, he caught such a look of melancholy and sadness he was shocked into stillness.

Lan Xichen seemed to come back from his thoughts, and the look vanished, as he realised the black cat had moved.

“Did you have a nice nap, xiao-Zizi?”

Little Purple, because of the unusual colour of his eyes in cat form.

Even though he had banished the sadness from his face there was an aura that clung to him, and Jiang Cheng’s soft heart, which he kept buried deeply under layers or sarcasm, anger and a pretence of not caring, thrummed in sympathy.

He swallowed every ounce of pride he possessed, then stretched his claws up so he stood on his back paws, with his front on the shoulder of Lan Xichen’s robes, then he rubbed his cheek against Lan Xichen’s. This was usually a cat’s way of marking it’s family, but it was also very cute and guaranteed to make a gentle soul like Lan Xichen smile.

It did, and Jiang Cheng mewled in approval as the other’s mouth curved gently.

He considered his role fulfilled, and jumped down from Lan Xichen’s lap with the intention of leaving. Except there was a tassel. It was attached to the jade pendant hanging from Lan Xichen’s belt.

Instincts again took him as he leapt forward to catch it under his front paws, claws digging into the threads and robes.

His cat’s body, like his human body, was just reaching the end of childhood; it was all gangly legs and too-big paws and playfulness, and it was a lot harder to stop his kitten’s urge to play than it was his human’s; where he was expected to show a much higher level of maturity.

Instead of the telling off he expected Lan Xichen merely chuckled and actually began to tease him with the tassel, allowing him to chase and pounce and hunt, butt-wiggle and all. He even detached it from the pendant and tossed it across the room to watch as the leggy young cat scrabbled over to enact a killing pounce.

By the end of their playtime Jiang Cheng was so exhausted that when Lan Xichen went to sleep he also curled up on the other’s chest, uncaring of the impropriety because he was a cat, and cats didn’t care about rules. It also meant he got extra fusses, which cats, despite their sometimes cold demeanours, did care about.

***

He had hugely miscalculated, Jiang Cheng realised as he woke up the next morning alone and curled with his nose under his tail on Lan Xichen’s bed.

It wasn’t much after five in the morning, but classes began soon, and he had to make his way back across the Cloud Recesses, without the security of night shadows the colour of his fur, to hide in.

He stretched, then slunk out of the Hanshi’s door to assess his trip.

It was misty and cool and there was dew everywhere; he was going to hate this. Unless he turned back to his human form. Honestly he was ready to let his cat instincts lie for a while now anyway; they had been given free reign far too much the previous evening, and if his mother found out he would be in serious trouble.

But his human form provided far too many other complications, like explaining what a visiting disciple was doing in the first young lord of Lan’s private sanctum, and the fact he was neither stealthy nor small enough to evade detection in it.

His cat would just have to suck it up and travel through the dew-strewn morning.

He matched actions to thoughts and eventually arrived safely back at their lodgings.

Wei Wuxian scooped him up as he opened the door to Jiang Cheng’s scratching.

“Where have you been? We were just about to start combing the entire Cloud Recesses for you” Wei Wuxian set him down on his bed, and gave him the space to return to his human form.

Which he did with a deep sigh of relief.

“I was trapped in the Hanshi, with Lan Xichen. I had to stay a cat or I’d have been in so much trouble. Sometimes I suppose A-Niang’s refusal to acknowledge that I’m a cat shifter has it’s uses” he tried to make a joke of it, as he always did, but it never cut him any less that he was a disappointment to his family on something he had absolutely no control over at all.

His mother always registered his shifter form as a Xiasi hound.

Wei Wuxian held his tongue on that subject.

Nie Huaisang, who had become firm friends with the two Yunmeng boys during their first few days in Gusu, fluttered his fan nervously, “You spent the night in Lan Xichen’s rooms?”

“I was being chased by two Lan Disciples, and I ducked through the nearest door. They didn’t follow me into the Hanshi. But Lan Xichen was there, so I couldn’t get away. I had to cat”

“I would have paid to have seen you acting all cute with the First Jade of Lan” Wei Wuxian grinned, enormously entertained by the thought, “But we can’t let him find out it was you” he agreed. “You should get changed, we’ll be late for class”

“I need to bathe” really, the only thing that ruled Jiang Cheng’s world in both forms was his rigorous personal hygiene routine. He would rather die than cut it short in any way.

Wei Wuxian was fully aware of what Jiang Cheng was like and had kept a bath drawn for him.

“It will be cold, sorry, be quick, you’ll draw attention to yourself if you’re late” Wei Wuxian informed him as he moved to the door with Nie Huaisang in tow.

“I know, I’ll be done as soon as possible”

The other two left him to his toilette as he began shedding robes.

***

Carefully groomed he made it just in time to slip into the classroom and kneel at his desk before Lan Qiren and his eldest nephew, Lan Xichen arrived.

They found out immediately what Lan Xichen’s attendance was for; Jiang Cheng should have known he wouldn’t let the sudden, unexplained appearance of a cat lie.

Under the pretence of checking their administration they questioned if there were any cat shifters present as someone had thought they might have seen one the previous evening.

Jiang Cheng lowered his gaze, hiding his flush with the fall of his hair, and Wei Wuxian, being Wei Wuxian, decided to distract the room.

“Are they sure it wasn’t a sable, Lan-gongzi? I’m a sable, look at how cute I am” and he slipped into his animal form and dashed to the front of the classroom and onto the desk to show off his cuteness.

The rest of the classroom of course found this greatly amusing, and even Lan Xichen smiled a little.

“Yes, thank you Wei-gongzi, for the demonstration” he picked Wei Wuxian up and returned him to his own desk, more to protect the younger man from his uncle’s ire than any other reason, and Wei Wuxian returned to his human form.

“See, I look a lot like a cat, right?” Wei Wuxian asked with a huge smile; one that got him out of trouble with Jiang Cheng’s father every time.

“I’ll bear that in mind, Wei-gongzi” Lan Xichen left soon afterwards, having received no further clue as to the identity of his night time visitor.

***

He was returning from the library pavilion late the following evening when Jiang Cheng stumbled upon the Two Jades of Lan, who were strolling towards the Lan living areas in the soft moonlight; and Jiang Cheng caught the tail end of their conversation.

“How are you and Wei-gongzi getting along, Wangji?”

What had Jiang Cheng missed?

Apparently whatever it was, Lan Wangji had also missed it.

“Xiongzhang, I don’t understand? Wei Wuxian and I have no interaction outside of uncle’s classroom. He’s frivolous, careless, and irreverent. He also makes my nose twitch”

“That would be your inner rabbit” there was a small smile in Lan Xichen’s voice, “You should try to make more friends your own age while we have so many young cultivators here at the Cloud Recesses, Wangji, Wei-gongzi’s personality is a little trying, I’ll grant you, but he has a large heart, and he’s very personable. He would balance out your more reserved personality, and vice versa. Friendships often work best when opposites attract”

There was a soft “hmph” from the younger Jade, and the sound of gravel underfoot quickened, indicating Lan Wangji walked away from his elder brother, who chuckled softly.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t meant to spy on them, but the moment he had heard Wei Wuxian being talked of he had assumed his cat form and followed the two Jades from the shadows, ensuring he was on hand if Wei Wuxian’s reputation needed protecting. Lan Xichen had spoken nothing if not the truth, however, so now Jiang Cheng found himself left alone in the shadows near the elder Lan sibling.

He was about to stealth away when he noticed the other look up at the stars briefly. That melancholic aura surrounded him again, and Jiang Cheng was caught between following his first intention of leaving, or making himself known and trying to cheer up the elder Jade.

He tried to tell himself it wasn’t his responsibility; everyone had their own worries to carry in this world, and Lan Xichen’s were nothing to do with him.

It would have been useful if he ever listened to his own good advice.

Instead he slunk out of the shadows and pressed against Lan Xichen’s ankles.

***

Thus began nights of his sneaking off to provide whatever comfort and distraction he could to the Lan Sect heir.

He didn’t allow himself to be caught out like on the first morning though, and around the change of a day he would slink away back to his rooms, sometimes to find Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang engaged in drinking, which he would join them in.

Wei Wuxian began talking quite a lot about Lan Wangji, especially in his cups and Jiang Cheng couldn’t help thinking about the conversation he had overheard between the Lan siblings.

From what Wei Wuxian said it seemed Lan er-gongzi was as unreceptive of the advances Wei Wuxian made as he had been when Lan Xichen had suggested to Lan Wangji that he try to make friends.

Really Jiang Cheng wasn’t surprised; he loved Wei Wuxian like a brother, (if he was pushed on the matter and forced to admit his feelings), but he wasn’t blind to the fact Wei Wuxian was an acquired taste, and one his own palate wasn’t fully inured to on occasion.

It continued so for some weeks.

Until one night he was guilted into staying with Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang after the former had made a successful trip down the mountain to obtain Emperor’s Smile.

Although Wei Wuxian had a high tolerance for alcohol it did loosen his tongue, and he began complaining.

“You don’t mark us as much anymore” there was a definite pout in his voice, and Jiang Cheng started. He referred of course to the rub of a cheek against family and close friends Jiang Cheng used to scent people as his social group.

“Yes I do. As much as I can get away with here in Gusu, I can’t do it as freely as at Lotus Pier Wei Wuxian, you know what would happen to me if mother found out I let the cat out of the bag”

Wei Wuxian found his choice of idiom hilarious and laughed heartily, while Nie Huaisang waved his fan at Wei Wuxian, urging him to be quiet less they be discovered.

Then he did quieten, “No you don’t, and you never want to stay and drink with us, and Huaisang has such amazing pornography too. All you want to do is sneak away to be with Lan Xichen” the size of the pout in his voice had increased at least threefold.

He supposed he couldn’t deny he had spent most of the past weeks playing therapy animal in the Hanshi.

“Wei Wuxian, don’t be like that…”

“You give him all my fusses, you haven’t wanted to curl up in my lap since we got here. I’m your brother, I have a right!”

The last sentence was spoken at the same time as Jiang Cheng said: “Wei Wuxian…” and a third voice from the doorway added to the cacophony.

“So it was you” Lan Xichen, summoned to catch them drinking by a patrolling disciple, had walked in at the perfect point in the conversation to finally find out who the mysterious cat who visited him most nights was.

He sounded enraged.

“I would love to know what kind of silly entertainment you all took from your little scheme, but...well, never mind”

“It wasn’t entertainment” Jiang Cheng jumped to his feet, his panic dissipating into anger. His gesture had been meant as nothing but kindness, even enacted under the cloak of secrecy, and he didn’t feel he deserved such censure.

“That’s quite enough, Jiang-gongzi, you will all be punished in the morning for the rules you have broken. I feel I should write to the Council of Elders and inform them you’re misrepresenting yourself on shifter registers, too”

That threat cut deeper than any other Lan Xichen could have made, and Jiang Cheng’s already ashen complexion went a shade paler.

“You can’t, you don’t understand…”

“I said that’s enough” and the first Jade of Lan turned and left.

***

Jiang Cheng stayed only long enough to receive his punishment the following morning, then set out back to Yunmeng to enact damage control and explain to Madam Yu that her falsifying of his shifter records might be brought to light.

She was enraged, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think there was a safe space in the world for him at that moment. If he wasn’t reminded constantly what a fool he had been by his mother, he was reminded by his own memories and Lan Xichen’s anger.

He could only stay out of her way; hiding for the most part with Jiang Yanli.

His sister kept him sane, giving him the sympathy and protection he so desperately needed at the moment.

Wei Wuxian wrote shortly after his return, to inform him he had spoken rather sharply on his behalf to Lan Xichen, explaining his motivations, that it definitely hadn’t been for the purposes of entertainment at the first Jade’s expense.

He had also begged the other to not write to the Council of Elders, explaining it wasn’t Jiang Cheng’s choice, nor fault, that he was falsely registered on all his shifter documentation.

A while later he received a second letter. The cloud seal, and elegant script suggested it might be from Lan Xichen. His childish first instinct was to burn it immediately, unread. He was still bitter the other hadn’t given him a chance to explain, and had had him punished for a kindness.

But he also wanted vindication.

Eventually the second motivation won out and he read it.

It wasn’t quite the full exoneration he had wanted. But the Lan Sect heir did apologise for reacting as he had, so immediately and without allowing Jiang Cheng to offer any defence on his own behalf.

Lan Xichen informed him he wouldn’t write to the Council, and that he would keep his secret on that issue given the circumstances.

Lan Xichen did still blame him for being so secretive about his identity, and said he should never have assumed Lan Xichen would welcome that kind of interference. Which Jiang Cheng accepted fully. He had entirely taken it upon himself to provide comfort.

Finally the first Jade of Lan suggested they meet to discuss the matter and set it to rest.

Not a chance.

Once he had read the letter fully Jiang Cheng did burn it, and didn’t reply.

A fourteen year old boy, no matter how mature he was expected to be, wouldn’t so easily forgive such a humiliation.

#XiCheng #pre-relationship #jiang cheng #lan xichen #wei wuxian #shifter AU #shay's stuff #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian being a jealous brother #Fur and Feathers AU

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spacehologramcollection · 5 years

Text

Request; Kombat Kast and marking their territory.

Well. Some of these are fluffy and some of them are pure filth. So, everything is under the cut. You know the drill. Warnings; Smut, NSFW, sexy-times, mentions of biting, marking, kinkiness etc. 18+ under the cut. GIFS are not mine and do not belong to me.

· Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi); SFW; He gives you a necklace, one with a spear-head charm on it. On the back it’s got his initials and yours. When he gifts it to you, he’ll sit you down in the Fire Gardens, watching as you unwrap it. Before carefully placing it around your neck. This is just so everyone knows, who you’re dating. Because he isn’t risking losing you. Nobody going to fuck with you when they see that. Ain’t happening. NSFW; He’s not overly keen on leaving marks on your body, why would he want to do that? But. Sometimes, on the occasion he’s feeling a little more adventurous, he would not be opposed to marking your collar-bones. He’ll fucking go to town if he has to. He loves the sight of them, but he leaves them, just so he can see them. There more to remind him and make his cock grow harder.

· Kabal; SFW; Matching. Shark. Tooth. Necklace. It takes him forever to find one that’s even remotely like his. His has some extreme sentimental value, his dad gave it to be him before he passed away. He’s the eldest so he got it. Whilst he was looking, he gave you his, just to get you used to having one. But yeah, when he finds one very similar, he’ll put it on you. He even points to it, shouting to Kano that you’re his. And if anyone tries anything on with you, or they insult you, or even fucking look at you wrong. He’ll shove a hooksword so far up their arse. And he’ll do Kano’s dentist a favour and knock his bastarding teeth out. NSFW; Love-bites everywhere. Fucking hell. You look like a fucking leper. ‘Not too many on my neck’ turns into a challenge for him ‘Of course not Princess’ Yeah, you’ve got a big one on the junction between your neck and collar. More on your thighs. You’re sat there, admiring his handywork and smiling. He’s such an endearing bastard. If you’re not 110% down, he will try and abstain from leaving them in prominent places.

· Kung Lao; NSFW; He likes to leave scratch marks on your back. He’s a sucker for being a bit of a bottom, just laying back and watching you ride his cock. So, he’s totally down for him clawing at your back. Nothing says you’re together, than having some deep-set claw marks on your back. It’ll put anyone off trying to fuck with you, unless they want a rather sharp hat to their face. Who knew one Monk could be so kinky? You sure as fuck didn’t.

· Kenshi; SFW; He’d give you one of his old bandanas. One that he’s had for a while. He has multiple ones, but he’d want you to tie it around your arm. Just so people know that even though he’s blind, he can fucking sense them checking you out. And he ain’t having it. Their thinking of slapping your arse? Not in this fucking lifetime. But yeah, he’ll insist you wear it everywhere. A piece of him with you always. NSFW; He loves to spank you. He knows nobody can really see them, unless you’re wearing some booty shorts. But, he knows people will know somethings up, when you can’t sit down. He’s a sucker for slapping your ass. Plus, he can sense your cheeks blushing, when people ask why you aren’t sitting down. People, mainly Johnny, have figured it out. That he’s been a little rough with you. He’ll never hear the end of it, but, at least people know you’re together.

· Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang); SFW; He gives you a Lin Kuei medallion. One that attaches to the belt of your clothes. Or, it’ll attach to the Uniform he’s got you. You’re the S/O of the Grandmaster, people deserve to know how important you are. And that if anyone tries anything on with you, whether it be intimidation or an attempt at flirting; he will not be having any of it. You’re to be treated with respect and dignity. NSFW; Leaving visible and prominent marks are not as his cup of tea. At all. But, he will on the occasion he’s been slightly rougher, mainly pinning you down, accidentally leave blue frosted marks on your arms. He’s incredibly sorry, he didn’t mean to do it. They’re not painful, in actual fact, they heighten your orgasm. So, you aren’t complaining. He still feels bad… but he does love the way they frame your wrist. Reminding people, that you are the Significant other of the Grandmaster.

· Bi-Han; SFW; Like Kuai, he gives you a Lin Kuei medallion, however, his comes attatched to a velvet blue choker. So, this is a little risqué, since its kind of like, collaring. Borderline though. Think Yennefer’s from the Witcher, but blue and with their symbol. It reminds other members, and outsiders at that, that you are taken by THE Grandmaster. And he does not take lightly to anyone intimidating or flirting with you. NSFW; This is very Kinky and is taken straight from his NSFW alphabet. One of his major kinks is light choking. If you’re into it. So, if you’re down, he’d leave similar frosty markings (Much like Kuai) on your neck. Good job he got you that choker. But nothing screams that you’ve both been intimate than that. If you’re not down for it, then he’s understanding and will instead leave a frosty handprint on your ass. These last fucking hours. He’s such a dick.

· Raiden; SFW; How does he ensure that everyone knows you’re dating him, exclusively, well, the way a good should of course! Well, he’s actually not sure on this custom. He does end up consulting the Elder Gods. For advice. They have no words. What the fuck is he asking them for? No time for this, even though they get an eternity. Asks Hanzo and takes inspiration from him. Gifts you with a charm bracelet. Lightning bolt charm, staff charm, hat charm and most importantly, a heart and an infinity symbol. He’ll live forever, and he’ll carry his love for you all the way through that. NSFW (This is for Dark!Raiden, since you are all thirsty for him!); He would be into leaving marks on your neck, collarbones and anywhere visible. He needs people to know that you’re together and you’re with him. If they mess with you, then let the thunder fucking take them. He will show no mercy.

· Erron Black; SFW; So, what does a cowboy give his Baby-Doll? Easy, a matching hat and bandana. Hey, look, you’re dressed the same. He needs everyone to know you’ve already got yourself a partner for the rodeo. Him. Hell, he’d get you a pistol just like his, custom made, just so people know. You’re Erron Black’s Sweetheart. And don’t nobody fuck with them. He doesn’t expect you to wear them all the time, but he loves it when you wrap the bandana around the neck. NSFW; He’s a sucker for a good love-bite, so he’ll be leaving them on your neck. See, good job he got you that bandana. It’ll hide the marks! But, if you wanna parade them around, then be his guest. He’ll fucking love it, if you’re stood talking to Jade, whilst he’s talking to Kotal and he can just spy them. They make him a little distracted. He has no idea what Kotal said but it sounds good to him.

· Jade; SFW; Her love for you is strong, she’s a loyal woman and she intends to make her intentions clear. You’re hers and hers alone. She isn’t into sharing, she has to now share her friendship with Kitana. Which she’s fine with. But you’re hers, and if someone tries to flirt or make you uncomfortable, they will be strongly disciplined. So, she makes it very clear, by gifting you with leaf shaped pendant made of Jade. This could not be clearer. It’s made of her namesake for Christ sake.

· Cassie Cage; SFW; A Phonecases that’s custom made, it’s just a bunch of those trashy hearts and pictures of both of you. Some of them goofy, some of you both looking amazing and ready to hit the town! She’ll also update her Social Media to make sure people know you’re together. She’ll also add it into her snark. Like Kano is flirting? ‘I’ve got Y/N, why would I settle for a scumbag with scabies?’ type snark. Oh, and the phonecases are matching, she has one two! You are that couple. Co-ordinated outfits are also a thing she likes. Like not he same but ones that complement each other’s.

· Skarlet; NSFW; She’s a bit of a sucker, literally, for leaving bitemarks. She wants big red marks all over you. It’s her kink, something she loves to do. They stay for a long time too. She’s just got a talent for them. You’re the only thing she has, and she will not risk anyone harming, hurting or flirting with you. She’ll crack that whip and split their ass in two if they do!

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 6 -

- Ao3 link -

The jade pendant Lan Qiren had worked so hard on had not stopped burning painfully hot since what he now knew was the day Jiwei had been shattered. It retroactively made perfect sense why his music could do nothing to calm the flames no matter how soothing; the pendant was so hot as to be dangerous even to him, a cultivator in his prime – even if not the most martially inclined – and in all honesty he had not dared to wear it since that day.

Despite this, he hung it on his belt before leaving the Cloud Recesses, ignoring the discomfort.

If Lao Nie did not recognize his sons, which he prized more than the stars in the sky, more than his own life, he would not recognize Lan Qiren no matter how good friends they were. Lan Qiren knew better than to flatter himself in that way. He was confident in Lao Nie’s affection, in his trust and even his love; he had never once doubted that when given a choice, Lao Nie would pick him over Wen Ruohan every time, no matter how often the latter shared Lao Nie’s bed – but Lao Nie was not himself right now, incapable of making rational decisions.

Lao Nie had raised his own hand against those he loved, something he would in the normal course of events never do. Lan Qiren would likely share the same fate as Nie Mingjue, only with even less power to defend himself – he had only music and wise words and inferior swordsmanship on his side, and of those, only his music had even half a chance of stopping a maddened charge.

He would need every advantage he could get, and the jade pendant, he hoped, would provide one.

Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses with his guqin over his back, his sword beneath his feet, and the jade pendant burning into his thigh, Nie Mingjue at his side. He hoped that Lao Nie might be able to draw some comfort from the jade pendant, which had been tuned to Jiwei’s frequency; he hoped that he could calm Lao Nie’s wrecked mind with his playing the way he had once sought to calm Jiwei’s rage.

And if neither of those worked…there was still his sword.

To the best of his ability, he would not allow Nie Mingjue to be harmed.

Lao Nie would have agreed, if he could.

When they arrived at the Unclean Realm, both Lan Qiren and Nie Mingjue were exhausted from their trip; even with regular breaks, it was not an easy journey to make by sword, much less twice over, with several days or even a week or more of travel being more customary. Lan Qiren had insisted that they rest for a few shichen in a town just outside of the borders of the Qinghe Nie sect to recover even more of their strength, and tellingly Nie Mingjue had not disagreed.

The Unclean Realm towered over them both as they approached, and to Lan Qiren’s eyes it somehow seemed more intimidating and imposing than that familiar, beloved place usually was – it was as if the tragedy within its walls had tainted it, giving it a more sinister aura than usual.

The guards of the Nie sect were unhappy to see Lan Qiren, as he’d suspected they would be, but they could not override Nie Mingjue, who ordered them to let Lan Qiren enter. A Nie disciple, older even than Lan Qiren but with exhaustion and fear written into every line of him, met them by the entrance, telling them that the Sect Leader was in his study – and that he was asking for them, or at least for Nie Mingjue.

“How is he?” Nie Mingjue asked, and glanced sidelong at Lan Qiren, explaining, “There are times when it is worse, times when it is better and he’s almost himself…”

“Forgive this humble one,” the disciple said, sounding tired. “The Sect Leader’s state is not good. He believes himself to be surrounded by enemies, besieged and betrayed. He believes we have taken you away from him purposefully, Nie-gongzi, and he fears for your well-being.”

Nie Mingjue’s face crumpled. “And when he sees me, he’ll think I’m one of the ones hurting him.”

“It is not your fault,” Lan Qiren told him in an undertone as they walked towards to the study. “He’s been infected with the saber spirit’s rage, becoming unbalanced – not just unbalanced, but unable to find himself. Just like a saber, he sees everything around him as a target, and seeks their destruction.”

Nie Mingjue’s head dropped in a nod. “Baxia’s just the same. She longs to eradicate evil, but her definition of evil is – wider than it should be.”

“We are all made of good and evil,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Right now, Lao Nie can only see the evil, not the good. That’s why he can’t recognize you. He loves you too much.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again and stopped in front of the study, taking a deep breath. Even through its soundproofed doors, they could hear the faint echoes of Lao Nie’s voice, bellowing out demands and threats, calling for Nie Mingjue, calling for Jiwei – my saber, my saber, where is my saber? – and Lan Qiren flinched briefly before recovering himself.

“Go,” he said, and Nie Mingjue opened the door and let them both step in.

Lao Nie was standing by the window, his hands clenched into fists, his knuckles bloody from having beaten his fists against the walls in his rage. His back was straight and his shoulders broad, as always, but there was a strange purposelessness to the way his head turned from side to side as if he were trying to hear something just out of range.

He turned to look at them. His hair wasn’t arranged properly, oily as if he hadn’t washed it for a while; his eyes were red and bloodshot, his skin flushed and ruddy, raised veins on his forehead, making him look as if he were on the verge of exploding.

“What do you want?” he spat.

“You called for me, A-die,” Nie Mingjue said, taking a step into the room and then another as Lan Qiren watched. “It’s me – it’s me, it’s Mingjue. A-Jue, I’m A-Jue –”

Lan Qiren never saw Lao Nie move.

One moment he was all the way across the room, the next moment he was standing right in front of Nie Mingjue. There was the resounding echo of a slap: Lao Nie had backhanded Nie Mingjue, knocking him to the floor. “Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, his reddened eyes blank and unseeing. “If you’re my A-Jue, why haven’t you done what I asked, like a filial son should? Bring me my saber! Bring me my Jiwei!”

“A-die – please – she’s gone, Jiwei is gone –”

Lao Nie raised his hand again, clearly ready to strike again, already pulling his leg back to kick at the young man cowering at his feet, a red mark already staining Nie Mingjue’s cheek where the heavy blow from before had fallen – Lan Qiren hadn’t been in the Unclean Realm for enough time to burn a stick of incense, hadn’t even had a chance to say anything, and things had already gotten to this point.

Wait, the doctors had said to Nie Mingjue when he’d asked them what could be done about his father’s illness. Wait. How terrible would Nie Mingjue’s life have become if he had listened to them?

“Lao Nie,” he said, stepping into the room and already reaching for his guqin. “Don’t hit him.”

Lao Nie turned to him, a heavy scowl on his face, and Lan Qiren braced himself for that same speed, that same casual viciousness that Lao Nie had before used only on his real enemies.

But unexpectedly - Lao Nie did not attack.

He didn’t move at all, in fact; he just stared at Lan Qiren, his frown fading into something like confusion.

“Jiwei?” he asked, a glimmer of recognition in his voice.

Lan Qiren’s hands were on his guqin strings, a spell at the ready, but he paused at Lao Nie’s words.

Very cautiously, he shifted the guqin to the side to free up one hand, which he lowered to the jade pendant that hung at his waist. “Yes,” he said encouragingly. “It’s Jiwei’s pendant. You remember? I made it for you, to drain off some of her anger. It’s yours. I brought it to you.”

Lao Nie took a stumbling step forward, and then another, his lost eyes brightening in happiness. Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and tolerated the pain of the fiercely burning pendant, taking it into his palm and holding it out to Lao Nie as an offering.

But it wasn’t the pendant that Lao Nie reached out for, but Lan Qiren himself.

His broad hands fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulders, and then slid up to cradle his face, his thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones in an unfamiliar gesture that made Lan Qiren shiver despite himself.

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie said, sounding pleased. “Jiwei, where were you? I missed you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed. “Lao Nie…”

“You look so different,” Lao Nie said, undeterred by Lan Qiren’s barely-said protest – undeterred, in fact, by the fact that Lan Qiren was a human being, not a saber spirit.

His hands were warm against Lan Qiren’s face.

“Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said, very slowly, and after a moment Lao Nie responded, no longer surveying him with his eyes but meeting his gaze. “I am Lan Qiren, your friend.”

“My friend,” Lao Nie agreed, and smiled. It was his old familiar smile, confident and carefree. “Jiwei.”

“No, not Jiwei. Jiwei…Jiwei shattered, Lao Nie. Your saber shattered.”

“Yes,” Lao Nie said, very unexpectedly, and Nie Mingjue, who had gotten up and was cautiously creeping closer, looked at him with hope shining in his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“You know your saber was shattered?” Lan Qiren said, testing, and Lao Nie nodded. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie tilted his head to the side.

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think – when he patted it? He did something, I’m sure of it.”

Lao Nie considered this statement, his eyes half-lidded in thought; he looked for a moment very much like he had before, putting aside the state of his hair and clothing. “I think you’re right,” he said after a while. “A-Han was very angry at me, at the start, and then at the end he was still angry, but also pleased with himself in that way that he gets. You know what I mean: when he’s done something vile, something everyone would condemn him for, and he knows no one will be able to do anything about it – the way he’s both pleased with the demonstration of his power and disgusted in himself, and he has to bury the latter in the former to make himself feel better.”

You know what he’s like, why do you like him? Lan Qiren thought to himself but did not say, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t so tactful and asked the same thing, virtually verbatim, outright.

“Grown-ups are complicated, A-Jue,” Lao Nie told him, and Nie Mingjue’s knees gave out at once. He tumbled down to the floor once again, landing on his ass with a thud, and stared up at his father with tears already spilling down his cheeks.

“A-die?” he whispered. “A-die, you know me?”

Lao Nie frowned, not understanding his son’s reaction, and pulled away to turn to look at him – but the moment his hands left Lan Qiren’s skin, the look in his eyes changed, the clarity disappearing and the rage returning. His brow furrowed in confusion and offense, and Lan Qiren thought about how it must appear to him: his beloved son was there only a moment ago, and then he turned and there was a stranger there instead, taking his place. It was no wonder that Lao Nie lashed out so fiercely, no wonder that his anger burned hottest against those he loved the most.

Lan Qiren stepped forward and put his own hand on Lao Nie’s shoulder, and when that didn’t seem to help, his face, instinctively following his teacher’s habits and grabbing him by the ear like a disobedient student in need of some shaking.

“Lao Nie, calm yourself,” he ordered, ignoring the lack of calm in his own heart.

Amazingly, miraculously, Lao Nie did. The red even started to fade a little out of his eyes – they were still bloodshot, still covered in a thin red film, but he no longer looked as though he were on the verge of crying blood. The ruddiness in his face faded as well, the blood summoned up by his rage starting to recirculate throughout his body as it should, and hopefully no longer on the verge of giving him an aneurysm.

Progress, Lan Qiren thought.

“What’s going on?” Lao Nie asked, alert and aware, if confused. “Why is my study such a mess? A-Jue, why are you crying? What happened to you – A-Jue, look at you, you look terrible! Who hurt you? Who dared touch you?”

Nie Mingjue was crying too hard to speak now, shaking his head, refusing to speak.

“You tell me, then,” Lao Nie said, turning his face, belligerent again but so much more normally so, to look at Lan Qiren. “Tell me what happened!”

“It’s complicated,” Lan Qiren temporized, although he stepped forward to press his entire palm against Lao Nie’s cheek, eventually sliding it down to rest at the back of his neck instead, the still too-hot pendant trapped between his palm and Lao Nie’s flesh. He didn’t dare break the contact again, not after last time. “It will take time to explain…”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” Lao Nie said, exasperated, impatient as always, and the sheer familiarity and nostalgia stuck in Lan Qiren’s throat, choking him. “I asked for an answer, Jiwei, and I expect one.”

The pleasant feeling froze at once, like having swallowed something the wrong way and getting it caught halfway down, stuck in his chest like a weight pressing down.

Not progress.

Or, rather – a very specific type of progress, in which Lao Nie was no longer on imminent verge of death from further qi deviations, in which he was no longer raving mad, rabid and attacking all those around him, but in which he also, apparently, believed that Lan Qiren was…his saber.

This was problematic for any number of reasons.

The first, of course, being that Lan Qiren was not, in fact, Jiwei. He was human, not a saber spirit; he was made of flesh, not metal. He wasn’t even the same gender, insofar as sabers considered themselves to have gender – both Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue affirmatively described their sabers using feminine terms, but quibbled whenever Lan Qiren attempted to describe them as women, claiming that their sabers were sabers, not humans, and therefore difficult to fit into the usual categorization.

At any rate, Lao Nie, at least, did not appear to be noticing any discrepancy.

However, that led them to the second major problem, which was that Lan Qiren and Lao Nie did not have the same relationship between them as Lao Nie had with his saber. The former were friends, however close; the latter were literally intertwined at the level of the soul, human master and spiritual weapon, co-dependent on each other in ways words could not even begin to describe. Even now, only standing next to each other, Lan Qiren could feel Lao Nie’s spiritual energy knocking against his palm, trying to enter his body to begin cultivating with him –

His ears suddenly felt like they were burning red.

What was perfectly appropriate, normal and even expected, between a cultivator and his spiritual weapon was not appropriate between two people, except perhaps dao companions who had agreed to share their lives and bodies with each other. It was entirely reasonable for Lao Nie to initiate such intimate contact – that was how spiritual weapons worked, through the cultivation of a blade or instrument through shared qi – and yet at the same time, because Lan Qiren was most definitely not a weapon, it became an offer for dual cultivation instead.

Right in front of Nie Mingjue.

Lan Qiren very firmly rejected the offer and Lao Nie laughed a little under his breath, an indulgent sound, and casually reached over to wrap his hand around Lan Qiren’s waist, pulling him closer – as if he thought Lan Qiren were merely playing hard-to-get, being prickly and inexplicitly unreasonable. As if a little bit of coaxing would be enough to get him to let down his guard, open up and let him in –

Lan Qiren coughed, abruptly very glad that he had not allowed either of his nephews to join in this trip. Or Nie Huaisang, for that matter, who despite his young age already had an over-active interest in other people’s personal lives.

That, he supposed, led them to the third problem: Lan Qiren was not nearly as easily mobile as a saber, could not be carried at Lao Nie’s belt nor kept with him at all times, and yet ceasing physical contact was clearly a bad idea. Perhaps once he had had some time to calm down…?

Nie Mingjue was looking between them with some concern as well. “A-die,” he said. “That’s Teacher Lan. Do you remember Teacher Lan?”

“Of course,” Lao Nie said, reaching out idly with his free hand as if to swat Nie Mingjue lightly on the head, an affectionate gesture that he forestalled immediately when he remembered that his son was injured. “What nonsense are you talking about? I’ve known Qiren since before I met your mother.”

“Good. That’s…good. I’m glad you remember him. You were sick for a little while, A-die; it made you confused.” Nie Mingjue paused briefly. “Can you tell me who’s that standing next to you?”

Lao Nie frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re not the one confused, A-Jue? Are you telling me you don’t recognize Jiwei?”

Nie Mingjue looked helplessly at Lan Qiren, who looked just as helplessly back.

He had absolutely no idea what to do about this – no notion of what the next step would be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the decision was taken out of his hands when Lao Nie looked down at himself and, with an abrupt scowl, appeared to realize the state of himself. “What a mess,” he said, disgusted. “A-Jue, have someone run me a bath. I’ll wash and head to bed for the night, but I want an answer from you as to what happened first thing tomorrow morning, do you understand me?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes went very wide and traveled very slowly over to rest on Lan Qiren, who set aside his guqin and used that hand, once free, to pinch the bridge of his nose and try to summon patience, careful not to disturb the hand that still rested on the back of Lao Nie’s neck, the pendant still burning in his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly. It was not fine, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do at the moment except continue to indulge Lao Nie’s delusion – his state was so much improved from what it was just a little while before that he couldn’t bear to even try anything that would return him to it at the moment, and he could tell from Nie Mingjue’s constant glances to his hand that he felt the same. “We’ve been night-hunting together before.”

They’d bathed together before – mostly in rivers and lakes and hot springs, not bathtubs – and they’d slept in the same bed before, when that was the only thing that was available at the local inn.

This was nothing more than that.

It’d be fine.

Nie Mingjue did not look convinced, looked in fact on the verge of protesting, but Lao Nie was already looking at him with a growing scowl – he disliked being disobeyed, even though he tolerated it more from Nie Mingjue than from others – and he had no choice but to run off to do his father’s bidding.

The second he was out of the room, Lao Nie reached over and caught Lan Qiren’s free hand, bringing it up to his face, pressing his lips against Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Jiwei, have I displeased you in some manner?” he asked, very earnestly, as Lan Qiren stared at him. “Tell me what’s the matter, darling.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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pretty-thoughts-and-a-pen · 4 years

Text

The Nature of Rumours

A young witch sets out on a journey in search of magic even more powerful than her own. There is nothing to go by, however, except for a trail of rumours.

All she had to go by in her search for the warlock was a collection of rumours.

“Calls himself Edel, he does, don’t listen to what those silly girls tell ya,” said the old Ms Denhom, not knowing that she was the fifth person Claudia had asked since entering the bazaar, and this was the fifth name she had been told. Vittorio, Wallace, Edel…no one seemed to be in agreement on what the mysterious man called himself, though they all had wild tales about him to speak of, as if they had met him personally and witnessed his great deeds with dark magic. Under her woolen, brown cloak, Claudia’s fingers twitched and rubbed against her palm. The less concrete information she had, the more her agitation grew.

Nevertheless, she stepped forward and helped the old lady set up her display. The trinkets laid out on the table formed a brilliant splash of colour against the faded wood, and the two women arranged the various vases, delicately curved pots, patterned plates and matching cups so that they looked as appealing as possible to anyone passing by. Claudia had originally stopped only to ask about the warlock that resided at the edge of town, this seeming to be common enough knowledge that almost everyone had something to say about him. From the kid running in the street to the group of young ladies gathered for tea, to the old shopkeeper. Not wanting to waste her time while she was setting up shop though, she had taken to helping the woman as she talked. Ms Denhom, short and bent, moved gently and soundlessly, yet her hands had a grace and steadiness that belied her talent at the potter’s wheel.

“Ah, thank you, dear.” Once they were done, Ms Denhom eased herself into a wicker chair behind the table, relaxing and adjusting her long maroon dress. “You’re a kind young girl, so tell me…” she fixed Claudia with an openly questioning stare, “what could you want with a practitioner of dark magic?”

Claudia had to look away then. She swallowed against the growing dryness of her throat. “A personal matter,” she settled with saying. A hand swept out to fiddle with a pendant hanging on the wall. Oval-shaped, and painted with a swirling red and green pattern, it swayed back and forth on a black thread. Claudia could see herself buying it. Divya would’ve loved it.

The old lady was silent, but Claudia could tell her stare hadn’t wavered. A wrinkled hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, and Claudia turned to look at it, still refusing to look up. “Dear, I won’t pry in what you’re planning to do, but be warned.” Ms Denhom spoke with a grave urgency in her tone. “You may have heard this Edel is a philanthropist, using his powers for good, and maybe you seek his help.” She paused to take a breath, or to prepare herself to speak further. “You might also have heard he’s a businessman, offering his services for the right price.” Claudia finally looked up, and nodded. Ms Denhom continued. “There are so many rumours about him, the people of this town are themselves confused. No one can come up with a single story. It disgusts me,” her nostrils flared in a sudden spike of anger, “that people have made up so many fairy tales, leading innocent souls to danger, and for what? They want attention, or they want to play tricks, or maybe, that’s just what is young people’s idea of fun…” As Ms Denhom trailed off, staring into the distance, clearly lost in her thoughts, Claudia sneaked a glance at her watch. Time was wasting, and the old woman seemed to have given up all the information she had. Eager to be on her way at once, Claudia searched for an exit from the conversation.

“Ms Denhom,” she interjected, grabbing the pendant she had previously seen off its hook. “I think I would like to buy thi-“

“Oh, lovely!” Ms Denhom brightened up. And with that, the previous subject matter was forgotten.

After handing over the money, and tying the piece of jewelry around her neck, Claudia was at the threshold of the stall’s entrance when Ms Denhom spoke again. The young traveler barely held back a groan. She was on a mission, she couldn’t be held back here a second longer. “Dear, forget the rumours everyone in this town has told you so far. It’s all false. I have the truth, and I would like to tell you.” The old lady lowered her voice, as potential customers started nearing the stall. “Edel is no benevolent man, he is a cruel creature. Do not seek his help, if you will heed my advice, do not even visit him. He has powers beyond your comprehension, and he will use them against you. He…”

Claudia somehow managed to politely step away, as the woman’s attention was redirected to her customers. As she started back on her course due east, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Because the “only” true information the lady had tried to give her, as if she would hear it nowhere else, was something half the people before her had said too.

***

Claudia pulled up the hood of her cloak to shield against the afternoon sun, blazing down hot and heavy, making sweat line her forehead and her blonde strands cling to it. In her head, she ran through everything she had heard in the town. She still wasn’t any closer to a name. Only some details had been consistent in the various narratives. The warlock was a solitary creature, he took in guests indiscriminately, and he practiced dark magic. Such broad statements, however, conveyed no true information to Claudia. The taking in of guests didn’t matter, if some people said that these guests were never seen again, while others said they were sent merrily on their way. The bounds of dark magic did not seem clear in anyone’s mind, either. Children in the street swore up and down that he could bend the laws of nature, conjure anything and destroy everything. Their parents sighed and sent them back along with their friends to play, then gave an apologetic smile while clarifying. No, he was not God. He could fix broken objects, heal broken people, he could destroy certain things within limitations, and as for conjuring, one could never be sure what all he could do. The young men in the village always seemed to downplay the warlock’s skill – he was nothing special, just your run-of-the-mill magician. The young women praised his kindness and generosity, his skill and talent and prodigiousness, and denounced any rumours that he used his powers to hurt people. Such lies, they scoffed, only came from the old, jaded grandmothers, who distrusted the youth and didn’t want young girls potentially running off with the first charming magician they saw.

Claudia was now near the very edge of town, and the paved roads had given way to dirt tracks. Large oaks rose to either side. The canopy above her blocked the harsh sunlight, and the cool shade that fell on her now, helped ease her breathing. In the dark, the landmark she had been seeking out suddenly came clearly into view. A gasp escaped her when she saw it. In the bark of one of the trees, a circle, carved with the shape of a staff inside, glowed with a faint red light. Blood-coloured wisps seemed to dance in the shadows, emanating from that spot. Marching forward with renewed vigor, Claudia was struck with the realization of how close she had come, and yet she did not know what this man even looked like. Some people described him as a monster, others as a brute, and others still as a delightfully handsome gentleman. After sifting through the endless rumours, which was all Claudia had to do in her long journey, she could only come to two solid conclusions.

One, the warlock was a kind, handsome gentleman. He would help her, maybe even for free.

Or two, he was a monster, an animal, or if he was human, a cruel and sadistic one. He would use his magic against her, and, though practiced in some defensive spells herself, the possibility of this option sent a chill of fear through her.

Claudia shook her head. Only time would tell what the truth was. Until then, she clutched her new pendant and thought of Divya. Alone, cold, and dying back home, she was relying on Claudia to bring help. And she could not disappoint.

For you, Divya. Claudia stepped through the trees and faced the cottage, neatly hidden away, with a red mark glowing on its front door.

***

“A visitor? Come in, come in!”

Claudia would’ve thought it was too easy. A single moment had confirmed which side of the rumours was true. The man ushering her towards the living room had his dark hair neatly slicked back, his honey-coloured skin was smooth, and his chest and shoulders broad and very much human. He hadn’t asked two questions before accepting her into his home, and his manner was kind and jovial. Claudia felt like laughing, for, as happy as most of the people in town were to sing his praises, the ones who weren’t, like Ms Denhom, were so irrationally animated in their horror. They said the worst things, trembled in exaggerated fear, and gave the direst warnings. But, such was the nature of rumours. Claudia mused as she sat in the chair he offered, pulled up beside the coffee table. Rumours weren’t powerful until they were exaggerated, it was always all or nothing when spreading a tale. You couldn’t make one truly stick in society unless you had people believe in it to the extreme.

You couldn’t count on people to spread the rumour, unless they feared it, and considered it important for others to know. It was so much easier to make people believe in a terrifying message, and so wholeheartedly, they called it a fact.

Such wholehearted belief had been all there was in town, for nothing else would’ve been affective in tarnishing this warlock’s reputation. For what, though? Out of fear of his powers? Or maybe the elderly distrusted powerful youth so much, that they went to such extents. After all, young girls might run away with such a charming magician.

Claudia accepted a glass of water, but immediately put it down. Wanting to get right down to business, she prepared to speak.

And she found herself opening her mouth, but having to rifle through the list of names she had been given.

“Call me Aro,” he said, as if he knew exactly where her mind was. Momentarily, Claudia was taken aback. She had heard plenty of names for him, and that was not one of them.

“Aro.” She pushed back the sliver of doubt. Rumours, by nature, were meant to mislead, to plant fear. There were more important things at hand. “I’m here to request your help. Do you,” Claudia needed this one rumour, especially, to turn out to be true, “have the cure for Vilerose poison?”

His easy smile never left his face. “Someone you know, fallen sick?”

“My lover, Divya.”

“And you don’t have the means to cure her yourself?” Aro raised his eyebrows at her, sipping at his own glass. “I can see you’re an experienced witch.”

Claudia had to assume his powers let him sense hers. Otherwise, she would have to confront the uncomfortable chills running up her back. “My healing ability is still new. I can’t cure this.”

“Still,” he said, “coming here is a bit desperate. No other witch or wizard willing to help?”

Claudia felt the strain on her patience. Her fingers curled back into her palms. “There’s…fear, of demons. Because they’re known as a symbol of evil, of hatred, no one would even try to listen to us.” Most witches had taken one look at the curled horns on Divya’s head and slammed the door in their face. But it didn’t matter, none of this did. Claudia just needed his help, which he seemed to be dodging from giving.

He looked thoughtful, for a moment. “What about-“

Claudia slammed the glass of water down and leaped to her feet. “Do you want to help me or not?” She breathed heavily, glaring down at him. But the worst part was, he wasn’t even slightly fazed.

He seemed to have expected it.

“Well, I certainly wanted you to think I do.” He stood up as well, towering slightly over her. “Why else would I spread such lovely stories about myself?”

Claudia blinked, a familiar dryness settling back in her throat. Nothing about his expression changed, always the easy composure stayed on his face. But now it was combined by a glint in his eye, harsh in the light pouring through the window. It send Claudia’s mind racing, trying to put together the pieces.

“So I was wrong to trust all the praise, is that it?” She stumbled back, biding for time as she patted down her coat in search of her wand. “Everyone who denounced you, they were right?”

“You could say that.” He made a face, as if genuinely pondering over the correct answer. “But I’m not sure if they are the ones who should get the credit, since I planted those stories in their mouths, too.”

“W-What?” The response was automatic, but Claudia didn’t wait for an answer. She pointed her wand at him as soon her hand closed around it. Aro snapped his fingers. In the same second, a wave of dizziness came over Claudia, goosebumps broke out over her skin and her vision doubled. Her unsteady fingers dropped the wand, and she barely managed to grip the edge of the table before falling over too. Through her blurry sight, she could just make out the glass of water resting in front of her. The clear liquid had turned a murky shade of green. A potion. There must’ve been a potion mixed in.

Aro walked slowly beside her. He crouched, taking her face in one hand. “Tell me, how many names for me did you hear on the way?” Claudia stared up at him through lidded eyes, not able to speak even if she had wanted to. He didn’t need the answer, anyway. “All those names, all those stories, they built the perfect image of me, right? All you truly knew was that I had power, I could wield dark magic, and that much, at least, was true. Everyone was saying it. You were so willing to believe it. And the ones that adored me, praised me, they were much less suspicious because there were people that denounced me to balance them out. I made sure to spread my stories among rivals. They were more concerned with proving each other wrong, the young and the old, I’m sure you could tell.”

Aro moved away, strolling up to a cabinet and pulling out a coil of rope. Dread filled Claudia’s stomach like ice, now she was all too willing to see a monster instead of a human. He never stopped talking the whole time.

“You never got information about me. Anything anyone told you was cancelled out by the next person. There was no way to know what would happen here, until you came. And here you are.”

He knelt and gathered her up off the floor. Her back was pushed up against the leg of the chair, and he made quick work of binding her wrists together. A single tear trailed down her cheek. Gazing blankly ahead, she fixated on the multiple doors in the corridor leading deeper into the cottage. Were there more prisoners there? What had become of them? What was going to become of her?

He moved to her ankles once he was done with her hands. He still spoke, but in that moment, the heaviest sensation of all was the pendant resting innocently against her throat.

And the only thought it brought to mind was of Divya.

“The real nature of rumours is this – they’re tools. Powerful ones, too; the right rumour in the right ear has sparked revolutions. And I’m just a mechanic, building the exact machine I want this town to be, bringing people right to my doorstep, one rumour at a time.”

#writing #shortstory #oneshot #my writing #fantasy #magic #drugging cw #kidnapping cw #warlock #witch #demon #whump?

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antiquecompass · 4 years

Text

Untamed Winter Fest Day 23: Gift

Xichen had woken in the middle of the night to a room empty both of his boyfriend and his dog. Even still half-asleep he was able to guess why, so he slipped out of bed, only setting off one of the motion-activated ornaments on the Christmas tree (this year their room’s tree theme was, fittingly, cats and dogs).

The house was silent, unlike most nights during the Jiang Holiday Fortnight of Excess. They always fell silent on Christmas Eve though, from the youngest of the Jiang and Yu relatives to even Wei Ying, never exactly known for his quiet manner. There was something solemn about the night.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Except for outside.

From the windows in the kitchen, Xichen could spot Jiang Cheng standing towards the water. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and eyes trained to the distance. Xichen carefully opened and closed the door behind him, not wanting to disturb the peace of the house inside or Jiang Cheng outside.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Jiang Cheng asked, even as he held out his arms for Xichen to come and huddle with him and his blanket.

“Isn’t it past yours?” Xichen asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be worried about Santa coming down your chimney?”

“I’ll come down your chimney,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. Then snorted. Then outright laughed. “That sounded better in my head.”

Xichen said nothing, just rested against Jiang Cheng and watched the ocean. Even Sugar had grown still at their feet.

“Okay?” Xichen asked.

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I’ve always loved this time of year. From Thanksgiving through to Valentine’s Day, Mom is actually nice to all of us. She loves winter, always has. Even when we were kids, even when she’d spend hours making cutting remarks about all of us, come Christmas everyone was indulged, even Wei Ying. It’s always been a time of peace in our family.”

Xichen had noticed that; he’d also noticed Mr. Jiang was absent for most of it. Last year he’d barely noticed it, caught up in his first time experiencing this whirlwind. This year it was far more obvious. He’d emerge from the library to play with his grandchildren, but when it was just his grown children and his wife, he’d disappear again.

“Dad basically lives in the library and lets Mom do whatever she wants and somehow it works for them,” Jiang Cheng said. “And she only puts garland and flameless candles in the library so Dad can have his peace. And he just nods and agrees as she starts taking trips out here, every weekend, starting in September, to oversee the decorating progress.” He laughed, though not a joyful sound. “Perhaps that is their gift to each other--a ceasefire and some tolerance.”

Jiang Cheng’s fingers were wrapped around the pendant Xichen had given him hours ago. It was a simple jade lotus pendant, but one Xichen had carved himself.

“Thank you for more than just tolerating me,” he said.

Xichen shifted, wrapping the blanket tighter around them, pulling Jiang Cheng deeper into his arms, letting him lay his head on Xichen’s shoulder, to let him have a moment of weakness, hidden from the rest of the world, just the two of them and the night and Sugar at their feet.

He remembered a conversation they had once, about their parents--their fathers. And Jiang Cheng’s words from then rung in his ears now.

My father knows how to love those who are easily loveable. He struggles to understand sharp edges. It’s taken me years to realize that’s a failing in him, not me.

Xichen loved Jiang Cheng’s sharp edges. The way he could spit words like knives. The guttural harsh sounds that came out of him when he was on the warpath. The furrow between his brows. The clenched jaw. The fact that a sweet kiss to his cheek could unclench that jaw. A gentle finger across his brow could soothe it. Arms wrapped around him could turn tense shoulders lax. That for Jiang Cheng happiness really was a warm puppy. That sharp edges protected the softest of souls within.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng muttered into his shoulder. “I swear I just came out here to walk Sugar. But the fucking walk from our room to the door through that silent house, it woke-up all the ghosts of Christmas pasts. Each year I’d be so fucking thankful that peace reigned in our family, looked forward to it, anticipated it. And each year by March it was gone.”

March. Over twenty-five years ago Jiang Fengmian disappeared on a sudden business trip and came back with a child, claiming it was his nephew. March remained a fraught month in the family, full of bad memories.

“Anyway,” Jiang Cheng said with a heavy sigh. “Something about Christmas Eve always gets to me because it’s the turning point, you know?”

He straightened up, stealing a kiss, a hint of desperation in him.

Xichen pulled him closer, deeper, pouring into him the words he wanted to say, but Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle hearing right now.

They were silent as they walked back to the house. Jiang Cheng held Sugar while Xichen took care of the blanket. The silence stayed as they entered the house, only breaking when they both heard childish whispers and a creak of the floorboards near the nursery.

Jiang Cheng pressed Sugar into Xichen’s arms as he stealthily crept up the stairs, keeping to the shadows, until he was looming over both Yuan and Ling.

Xichen had to press his face into Sugar’s fur to keep himself from laughing loud enough for them to hear.

“Why do I find a little bun and a little peachick out of bed?” Jiang Cheng asked. He quickly caught both boys before they could fall over. “Don’t you know Santa won’t come until you’ve slept?”

“But we already slept!” Jin Ling said.

“You need to sleep some more,” Jiang Cheng said as he scooped up both boys.

“But Uncle!” Yuan said. “I can see our stockings from here!”

“Well, that’s because the elves have to come and check the house first,” Jiang Cheng said as he carried the boys towards the nursery. “They fill up the stockings as a sign that this house has good children who are asleep in their beds.”

“The elves are everywhere,” Yuan said.

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I won’t tell them, if you won’t. We’ll just all go back to our beds and not come out until,” he turned to Xichen with a smirk. “Five? Isn’t that right?”

Xichen nodded. “Standard Lan time. Perfect hour to greet the dawn.”

His brother, and possibly Yanli, were going to kill him. But he couldn’t imagine that the boys would stay in their beds for much longer than that, not when they knew full stockings and presents were downstairs.

He waited there, on the stairs, listening as Jiang Cheng put both the boys to bed, gave into Jin Ling’s demand for a bedtime story, and Yuan’s for a song.

Sharp edges covering the softest of souls; a man so full of love, even growing up with those parents, because those three siblings banded together and protected each other after a rocky start. They were inseparable. He remembered watching the boys from his place next to his uncle, their first summer at Cloud Recesses. They’d cried when they had to leave Yanli, and she cried leaving them. And here they were now, so many years later, still inseparable, still so deeply connected, still so protective and full of love for each other.

It made this house, even with all its ridiculous decor, feel like a home. Lived-in, well-loved, full of good memories.

Jiang Cheng softly closed the door to the nursery and greeted him with a small smile.

It made Xichen’s pulse jump with the anticipation of getting to taste those lips again, hold him close, breathe him in.

“Why are you still standing there?”

“Waiting for you,” he said.

And he would always wait for him, as long as there was still life in him. Because the man before him wasn’t his entire world, or his entire family, but he was the one who made it all the more worth it, all the more fun, all the more tolerable.

He’d spent years mourning a love he’d never thought he’d get to experience. Resigned to a life of duty and trying to survive on the fantasies of what could have been, in another time, if things had worked out in different ways.

And somehow, someway, life--fate--Jiang Cheng himself--had given him this gift of a man before him.

Love wasn’t a strong enough word, but it was the best one he had for now.

“I love you,” he whispered, in the silence of the night.

“I love you too,” Jiang Cheng said, a gift always freely given. “Now, let’s try to get some sleep.”

#untamed winter fest #long post #day 23 #xicheng #fandom: the untamed #verse: lahl #fic: hold me like you want me #my ridic writing

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