#guess being the acting grandmaster is hard work

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #13b - 'Technically A Cutsleeve?' (Mo Xuanyu and Lan Jingyi)

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[Masterpost] [AO3]

-/-

Jingyi stares up at the shadowed ceiling of his guest quarters and Thinks.

It isn’t unheard of for him to be unable to sleep despite it being well past hai shi - it happens every so often that his mind won’t quit running itself in circles even if he’s physically tired, and he’s even got special permission in Cloud Recesses to be up and about at any time of night (so long as he keeps quiet and doesn’t disturb others’ sleep with his restless wandering). But this isn’t Cloud Recesses, and though it seems like Lanling city far beneath the tower never sleeps, he still doesn’t think anyone here in Jinlintai would take kindly to him pacing around the halls in the dead of night.

So he stays put in his bed, and he thinks about Mo Xuanyu.

Throughout Jingyi’s (relatively sheltered) life, he’s had no shortage of examples of relationships to look up to and help him attempt to decide what he might, hypothetically speaking, want for himself and his own future. His parents, from what he can remember, were very much in love. He hopes they still are, he hopes they’re still alive and cultivating together on the back mountain like they’d left him behind to do shortly after he’d turned five. He dimly remembers watching his mother kiss the top of his father’s head any time he was seated at the table in their home, and the way his father would always smile back at her, or pour her tea, or fetch her her favorite books down from the shelf just to read them to her himself. He’s always loved to think of them like that, happy and sweet.

He’s seen Hanguang-Jun and Wei-qianbei over the years - what he privately thinks of as a ‘traditional’ cutsleeve relationship, if one can really call it that. Cutsleeve pairs weren’t unheard of before Hanguang-Jun and Wei-qianbei fell in love, but the practice wasn’t exactly in fashion either. But then, so the story goes, they’d wanted to marry as young children, and Jiang-zongzhu had humored his ward and thought little of it, seeing as cutsleeve pairs had been (relatively) common in Lotus Pier. The Jiang don’t seem to bother making much of a distinction between relationships between men and women and those between cutsleeves, and Grandmaster Lan, who’d been acting sect leader at the time, had allowed it for reasons everyone can only guess at. Jingyi has always thought that was romantic too, the way Hanguang-Jun and Wei-qianbei had fallen for each other so young and in the course of pursuing each other had changed the very culture around romantic relationships in the Cloud Recesses - after all, if Hanguang-Jun is allowed and encouraged to have a husband, why can’t others be cutsleeves as well?

And then of course there’s Zewu-Jun, Lianfang-Zun, and Chifeng-Zun. Jingyi’s mind still boggles a little sometimes if he thinks too hard about how that works, but he knows better than to try to ask anyone his questions. It’s not something he could ever imagine for himself anyway - with men or women - so he supposes it doesn’t matter.

The point is - Jingyi has seen cutsleeve relationships of all sorts over the years in his own sect and in others, and he’s never once felt that it’s right for him. He’s never seen a man, no matter how handsome, and felt the same sort of fluttering, shivery anticipation he feels sometimes for pretty women. It’s a sensation that he’s been heartily reassured is attraction and therefore he should closely monitor it to ensure he doesn’t allow it to become a distraction from his cultivation.

What he’s never felt able to confess to another living soul, though, is that in the last couple years or so he’s grown afraid that he’ll never meet someone he truly wants to settle down with. He’s met pretty women and they’re fun to flirt with in passing in the same way that he likes making anyone laugh and feel happy. How is he supposed to pursue something as fleeting as that and turn it into a lifelong partnership, even if he’s definitely attracted to them physically?

He hadn’t known until today that someone like Mo Xuanyu could even exist, and it’s making him feel as if everything he’d thought about himself, everything he’s been afraid of, is pointless. He can understand, in abstract, the appeal of a cutsleeve relationship. He’s comfortable around men, he knows how to talk to men, how to behave with them. He’s also comfortable enough around women, though he knows he has to behave differently, talk differently. As Gusu Lan’s head disciple as a boy - and now as a skilled full cultivator of a Great Sect in his adulthood - his interactions with women always feel so…loaded. It’s difficult to feel as if he can truly become friends with any women not in his sect, and he’s already decided that he isn’t interested in any of the eligible Lan women his age. 

He’s thought plenty of times before that things would be so much easier if he were attracted to men, if he could marry someone who had been easy and comfortable to befriend, if they could go forward through life as friendly companions and never have to bother with flirting and courting and dating and all that mess. But at the same time - he wants to court someone. He likes flirting, and who could ever say that they don’t enjoy a pretty face? It would just be nice if those things could fit nicely together - all the ease and comfort of a man, and the beauty of an elegant woman.

Someone like Mo Xuanyu.

Jingyi groans to himself and covers his face with both hands as if that could help his mind stop turning itself in anxious circles like a dog snapping at its own tail. He’s heard plenty about Mo Xuanyu over the years of being Jin Ling’s friend, of course, but somehow his friend had neglected to mention that his uncle is so beautiful there must be reams of poetry written about him somewhere if there’s any justice in the world at all. He’d never once told them that Mo Xuanyu dresses and moves like any wealthy woman of the gentry, but that he still seems perfectly comfortable and natural in the company of men without any of the distance of propriety Jingyi’s so used to with women. It’s maddeningly attractive in a way Jingyi has never felt before, and he suddenly understands why he’s been warned not to let physical desire run away from him.

Which, of course, begs the question - is he even allowed to be attracted to Mo Xuanyu? Jingyi isn’t a nobody, necessarily, but he’s realistic about his position in life. He’s lucky enough to have made friends with three sect heirs who truly respect him and see him as an equal, but that doesn’t really mean much as far as the rest of cultivation society is concerned. Jingyi is, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. He’s closely enough related to the main branch of the family to be a reluctant consideration for sect heir in the absence of literally anyone else better born for it, but Lan Xiafeng will probably step up to take the position soon unless Zewu-Jun and his husbands find a child to adopt and name as heir. Jingyi was the head disciple while he was still a student disciple, but now that he’s a fully-fledged senior cultivator that distinction doesn’t really matter anymore. He’s just…a Lan. One of many. And Mo Xuanyu is not only a direct member of a powerful and wealthy gentry family, he’s also technically of the older generation. He may be the very youngest of it, and Jingyi one of the oldest of his generation, but that line is still there. Jin Ling still calls him ‘shushu’ and is expected to show him the proper filial respect, whether he actually does or not. How could Jingyi ever hope to bridge that divide while keeping Mo Xuanyu’s reputation intact and not causing offense?

Besides - Mo Xuanyu is Jin Ling’s uncle. There must be some kind of unspoken rule about that, not courting your best friend’s unfairly beautiful uncle, and Jingyi doesn’t want to find out for sure that it exists by upsetting the balance of their little foursome with an inappropriate crush.

Jingyi flips over onto his stomach to bury his face in his pillow and groan again. It’s too hot in Lanling and he feels stifled under his blanket, his trousers and shirt are all twisted up around him now from his restless stirring, and his mind is still running incessantly, so in the interest of not going insane he shoves himself up out of bed to give into the inevitable and start pacing.

Moving helps him focus his thoughts a bit more, but it doesn’t help him stop thinking about Mo Xuanyu, or about what this might mean as to how he’s understood himself these last few years - nor does it help him sleep. He changes his clothes at dawn and forces himself to stick to the schedule ingrained in him over the course of his entire life. His golden core is more than strong enough to push through a bit of exhaustion from one sleepless night, so he meditates and prepares for the day as well as he can with his mind still hounding on the same exact things he’s been obsessing over all night long.

He goes to breakfast still feeling distinctly unsettled, and any hope he might have had of hiding it promptly flies out the window when he arrives for two reasons he can’t even be annoyed with.

Sizhui takes one look at him and frowns softly, obviously concerned. Their guest quarters share a wall, and it’s unlikely that a cultivator as keen as him hadn’t heard the way Jingyi was up pacing all night long even though he’d tried to keep quiet.

Mo Xuanyu smiles sweetly up at him from where he’s kneeling with little Jin Ye in his lap to cajole her into eating her breakfast and Lan Jingyi is absolutely certain that none of his questions about what all this means actually matter - which in turn leaves him hopelessly defenseless against trying not to look absolutely gobsmacked by his attraction to this impossible man.

“Are you alright?” Sizhui asks when Jingyi sits down beside him and he brushes it off with a smile and a jostle of their elbows, some joke he doesn’t bother to think too hard about already on his lips. That’s easier; it’s like when he was a kid and he never knew how to answer questions in class, or when adults would ask him what he thought he was doing with a punishment already in mind. Jokes are safe and they make people happy, he’s good at using them to deflect attention away from himself, he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore. Which is good considering Jingyi feels like he’s one more happy glance from Mo Xuanyu away from blurting out that he’s already picturing a future together despite his sleepless night spent trying to convince himself not to fall for him just yet just yet.

(Oops.)

Jingyi eats as quickly as is polite and makes his escape the moment Sizhui looks like he’s done as well, which means that it’s only a matter of minutes before they’re safely on their own in the gardens where Sizhui pins him with that damn look of his that’s kind and understanding but also leaves no room at all to successfully bullshit him. (Having met Wen Qing a couple of times now, Lan Jingyi knows exactly who he learned it from, though her version is usually not gentle at all.)

“If I apologize for keeping you up with my pacing will that be enough to get me out of this conversation?” he asks somewhat desperately. Sizhui’s smile just widens and he tips his head a little to the side in a gesture that’s all Wen Qionglin. 

“It doesn’t, but thank you, it only woke me up briefly and I was able to go back to sleep when I was sure you weren’t leaving to go off on your own somewhere to get into trouble.”

“Where would I have gone to get myself in trouble?”

“Out of all of us you’re the most upset with Jin Ling for how he treated Mo-gongzi. I thought you might want to go punish him yourself.”

“Well that brat needs someone willing to smack some manners into him,” Jingi grumbles and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “I’m happy to take on such a sacred duty for the good of all mankind - hey!”

Sizhui pockets his needles again calmly when Jingyi yelps and jerks away from him, the implicit threat startling a laugh out of him even as he escapes out of reach. If only Sizhui would do that in front of people who think he’s purely sweet and not at all a little shit under that polite exterior, but alas, he plays his cards too well to ever get caught being the absolute gremlin he is.

Jingyi’s distraction tactic has thankfully done its job, though, and before Sizhui can insist on him spilling what’s on his mind he hears Zizhen calling out from behind them, Jin Ling hot on his heels, and the chance to corner him is thankfully cut short for the time being. Safe for now, but he’s savvy enough to know that he’ll have to get more and more creative if he’s going to manage it again.

The presence of all three of his friends is a decent distraction for most of the morning, the only problem is that apparently Mo Xuanyu had been really good at hiding before, and now that he’s not bothering to hide anymore he’s everywhere. Over the course of the morning Jingyi spots him no less than six times, though always at a distance and simply in passing as the man goes about his beautiful business.

And then disaster strikes at the afternoon meal.

“Mo-gongzi,” Sizhui starts with an innocent little smile. “You mentioned before that it might be possible to persuade you to come spar with us if we ask at the right time - could I persuade you today?”

Jingyi feels flushed from head to toe at the laughing, sly look Mo Xuanyu sends Sizhui, who’s still smiling peacefully like he isn’t a monster out to kill Jingyi specifically. “Wen-gongzi, you flatter this humble one,” Mo Xuanyu teases with a little half-bow accompanied by the quiet tinkling of the chains dangling from his hair pins, the pair of jade bracelets on his wrist clacking ever so slightly as he reaches for his cup to toast Sizhui. “I’d be happy to join you, I’m not needed anywhere else.

Jingyi risks a glance over at Jin Ling and can’t help but think that it’s good it had been Sizhui to bring it up - he’s pretty sure Jin Ling would have outright murdered anyone else for trying if he didn’t die of embarrassment first. Something hot and protective takes ugly root in Jingyi’s chest at the sight of his friend’s grimace, and his irritation with him for being so awful to his uncle creeps back up to the surface, not so easily pushed down again this time like he’s been trying to do since yesterday. 

What’s he so embarrassed about anyway? Jin Ling has described some of Mo Xuanyu’s wilder stunts to them before, but they hadn’t been anything that Jingyi himself wouldn’t think up if given the same choices, so it can’t really be that. He wonders abruptly if it has to do with the way Mo Xuanyu dresses, the way Zizhen had mistaken him for a woman when they’d bumped into him in the gardens the day before, and if that’s the case then Jingyi really is going to run him around the practice ring a few extra times to give him a nice set of bruises. He’d do it even if he hadn’t already developed a rather unfortunate crush; as someone who’s never really fit in with the family he was born into, he finds it especially difficult to tolerate seeing others shamed for the same thing.

“Your uncle’s cool,” Jingyi tells Jin Ling at the first available opportunity once they’ve finished eating. They aren’t planning to spar for a little longer yet so they’re wandering the gardens again, this time skirting around a lotus pond under an arched bridge in the family quarters, and Jin Ling turns to glare at him suspiciously.

“Which one?”

Jingyi doesn’t bother trying not to roll his eyes. “Which one do you think? Mo Xuanyu. I bumped into him last night on my way back to the guest quarters so he walked me back, and Sizhui got him to hang out with us for a while. He’s nice, I like him. So do Zizhen and Sizhui.”

“You - what?!”

Jingyi stops walking and turns to face Jin Ling, his smile slipping just a little in the face of his friend’s baffled spluttering. “We invited him to spend some time with us last night after dinner, and we were lucky enough that he agreed. He’s nice, A-Ling. Don’t keep him away from us anymore, alright?”

Jingyi claps Jin Ling on the shoulder once, just shy of too hard to be entirely friendly, before he turns and runs up to where Sizhui and Zizhen are walking ahead of them to sling his arms around their shoulders and jostle them into wrestling him off them, all three of them laughing even as Jin Ling recovers enough to snap at them to cut it out.

#the untamed fanfic #Technically A Cutsleeve? #Mo Xuanyu #Lan Jingyi #Lan Jingyi/Mo Xuanyu #Nonbinary Mo Xuanyu #Junior Quartet #Jingyi is specifically attracted to gender fuckery #Like that is the basis of his attraction even if he doesn't have the language to describe it #He wants masculinity and femininity in one person but had no idea until he was confronted by someone who can offer that #and suddenly he's like 'oh this is why Lans love Like That okay I get it' lol #Also Black Sheep Un-Lanest-Lan Jingyi doesn't know what it's like to struggle with his gender but he does know what it's like #to be eccentric and weird by your family's standards and struggle to feel accepted for who he is so he's particularly sensitive #to Jin Ling's behavior about all of this

[angel-share-casual]

For those who don't know: I'm 26. I have been living everywhere around Tevyat. Mondstadt most permanent, but I only came back to be permanently here about two ago. Though, there have always been years of being here. My birthday is coming up soon. The one that Diluc and I thought I had originally. After I turned 20, I stayed here for a year, before leaving for 2 years to travel Tevyat, stayed again for a few months before going with my friend, Tartaglia, to his homeland for a bit. I had been doing work by that time, properly. Helping set up trading routes for Dawn Winery.

I know that may seem selfish, but I wanted to make it up to Diluc. For being from where I was. It's... Sort of an open secret by now, since the Lawrence acting grandmaster made a public announcement about me. Diluc wasn't there for it. He was... Somewhere. I don't know where. It wasn't pretty.

Barbara avoided me for 3 months, Lisa didn't look me in the eyes, Albedo... He wanted to know why I hadn't told him. Childe knew, already. I told him a day before my 20th birthday. I couldn't handle it. I was holding an old gift from Diluc, a falcon plushy I named Bertha. Old lady name, I know, but it was Diluc's falcon's name at the time. He was indecisive about her name, so I named 'my' falcon after his.

I couldn't handle looking at her and remembering that birthday, just a week after Diluc's. I had gotten him a cryo themed necklace. It had a small snowflake earring that came along with it. He hadn't had his ears pierced yet, so I was able to have it put them. He said that now we won't ever be away from one another, because if I had the earring and he had the necklace, we could always find each other again. I don't remember his full reasoning, but it's really bittersweet now.

Sometimes I remember the fact we were just kids. Kids who couldn't let go of each other, who needed one another. I remember, sometimes, that he did trust me. That he cared about me. That he didn't hate me. It's hard to imagine now. I sit here, clutching Bertha, and just... Think. About what it could have been to still have my sworn brother by my side. What I could have help him conquer. What I could have confided him with. I guess these are letters I won't ever write him.

If you see this, Diluc, I'm sorry. Take what I have to offer, from my heart to yours, and please, please find it in yourself to forgive me and yourself. I want my sworn brother back, and I will do anything.

Please.

#Angst no comfort #Angst #genshin impact kaeya #diluc #genshin headcanons #diluc and kaeya #kaeya #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya POV #Genshin impact #Kaeya alberich

[adrellion]

Jean: No off-topic questions.

Jean: Because I don't want to.

Jean: No they're, no.

Jean: Permission DENIED.

Jean: That's an oFf tOpiC question, next...

Jean: You have been STOPPED.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin jean #jean #genshin impact incorrect quotes #genshin incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #quotes #guess being the acting grandmaster is hard work

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

For your 300 Followers special (congratulations btw) can I request prompt 16 with rosaria with a reader that’s is related to jean/ Barbara

“Will you just marry me already?”

characters: Rosaria x gn!Gunnhildr!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I don't know too much about Rosaria to be honest, so I wrote her with the few informations about her I had in mind, that could mean that she's out of character, so if that is the case, I am sorry.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Rosaria

It was impossible for you not to have heard about the sister of the Church of Favonius, after all, Barbara never failed to mention her in any of your conversations, always worrying about her, but also telling you about how the Church would always send her to try and convince Rosaria of attending the church activities.

You would often wonder why she even became part of the church, the only time you would actually see her being the night or at the tavern, so you decided to keep an eye on her, observing what she was even doing. You didn’t get far, every time you tried following her, she would just vanish. When she one day confronted you, assuming you to also try and talk her into coming to church, the two of you somehow struck up a weird friendship. You trying to use your Gunnhildr name to help her out as much as possible, in exchange for her attending Church activities every once in a while, with you hoping, that it would cause Barbara to relax a bit.

Like on most nights, you sneaked out of your home, wearing a disguise in hopes of not being recognised. You didn’t want to hear rumours about how on of the siblings of the acting Grandmaster was seen doing something in the middle of the night. When you finally bumped into Rosaria, you quickly handed her a small package, only for her look at you with a curious look before opening it, revealing the knife inside.

“I noticed that you always run around with a knife at night, so I thought it would be nice of me to gift you the best money and reputation can buy”, you told her in a low voice, partly to not potentially wake anyone up and partly because of embarrassment. Rosaria took the weapon, inspecting it before hiding it somewhere on her body.

“Are you not going to ask what I need a knife for?”, she asked in a rare, half-joking voice. You used to always try and question her about why she was sneaking around at night, but after never getting a straight answer, you eventually gave up, choosing instead that it was probably best for you not to know.

“I know you won’t tell me, but please just promise me that you’ll be careful”, you stated, even though you first met after you had tried spying on her, nowadays you saw her as an important friend, and even though you hadn’t confessed yet, she was the person you loved. You hoped she felt the same way, with how she sometimes showed you her warmer side, but as with everything about Rosaria, it was hard to tell.

“Would you just marry someone already? Maybe then I won’t have to hear you worrying about me so much”, the sister said in a sarcastic tone, but the face she showed you made it clear that she appreciated your sentiment.

“Well, will you just marry me already?”, you had no idea why, but her her comment and a random spark of confidence had somehow made your mouth work on its own. When you realised what you had said, your face got completely red, you were thankful for the darkness, since it made it almost impossible for Rosaria to notice, but your comment had even caught her off-guard. It wasn’t enough to make her blush or anything, but her eyes widened for just a moment before she took out her new knife again, just to inspect it for a few second and putting it back again.

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to do my job now. We’ll talk again tomorrow”, she excused herself and when you looked up at her, you could swear that you saw the smallest hint of a smile on her face.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #rosaria #rosaria x reader #300 simps for the simp throne!

[celestialarchon]

The Celestial Archon

Chapter One: A Storm of Stars

Genshin Impact x F!reader

In the first chapter, you may find the mystery archon described in a way that doesn’t fit you. That’s okay, it will change to each individual’s own tastes with time. The archon is described a certain way for reasons regarding the story line!

WARNINGS: lots of genshin spoilers, mentions of blood/violence, & mentions of injury.

tag list! @pebblegwn @krexpe @rockinaflock @creation-magician @noythe @weightlessrose @kclremin @vievi @simpinforkirari @red-riots-crocs

Our story began when Mona, the esteemed astrologist made a bold declaration. The stars foretold the return of a mysterious eighth archon. With this information, the most influential people of Mondstat and Liyue set a plan into action. The beloved traveler and his sidekick were quickly dragged into the preparations for the Celestial Archon. Aether and Paimon were looking forward to resting after weeks of hard work but unfortunately were interrupted by a star falling from the heavens. And so, we continue onward with our adventure.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Aether’s legs were sore, his knees began to buckle as he finally made it to the entrance of dawn winery. He yelped, falling forwards and closed his eyes preparing for the impact. It never came as two sets of hands grasped the boy and steadied him. Diluc, the esteemed owner of Dawn Winery sighed as his brother gently removed the mysterious young woman from Aether’s back. The red headed man scowled as the traveler’s knees buckled once more, catching the now unconscious boy.

The knights of favonious stood outside the winery, watching the two men carry the weakened traveler and mystery lady. With the stars still falling in the distance it was quite a sight to behold. Mona gasped as Kaeya approached, the woman in his arms still still sleeping. Her hair was long and wild, strange silvery tattoos danced on her skin, and her body was frail. Kaeya tried to be gentle with her, holding her bridal style but he could feel her losing strength and the warm blood from a wound staining his shirt.

Noelle rushed forward to remove Aether from Diluc, “My apologies Master Diluc, but this young lady needs a free room immediately.”

Diluc nodded, grimacing at the sight of the wounded woman in his brother’s arms. He pushed the doors to Dawn Winery open, making his way to the nearest guest room. Kaeya followed him and Jean yanked her younger sister along. The room was simple with a bed, night stand, and single chair. Kaeya set the woman down on the bed carefully, and rolled her over to see the back of her top soaked.

“Kaeya, go wash up.” Jean ordered, unsheathing her sword.

Diluc steered his brother out of the room while Jean got to work. With speed and precision, Jean’s sword cut the cloth away from the injury. Her eyes widened and she stepped back as the wound as freed. Barbara peeked around her sister and felt nausea building up. Noelle entered the room to see the two sisters in shock. Jean’s eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and disgust.

“Did she have wings?” Barbara whispered, eyes never leaving the back of the woman.

“No, this isn’t a tear. Somebody or something did this to her,” Jean gritted her teeth, “they carved it into her.”

Noelle glanced over them to see something incredibly awful. There were two deep and wide gashes starting at her shoulder blades and meeting at her tailbone to make an upside down v symbol. Her breathing was shallow as the air hit the open wound. Barbara made her way to the bedside to infuse the wound with hydro energy and try to help the pain.

“Noelle!” Jean barked, “Find the Alchemists and tell Albedo to set up a direct teleport point here. Bring Sucrose here, we will need all the help we can get.”

Noelle nodded and dashed out the door, nearly colliding with the knight’s librarian. Lisa frowned but ignored the rushed girl and stepped into the room.

“Lisa,” Jean sighed as the woman walked in.

Lisa’s hand found its way to the dandelion knight’s shoulder, “Yes, acting grandmaster?”

“Please send word to Liyue Harbor that we need the aid of their best herbalist right now. This is urgent. You may also inform the adepti and Zhongli of the archon’s arrival but we need aid now.” Jean’s tone was serious, it struck a chord of anxiety in Lisa.

Without a word, Lisa strode out of the room and began to do as she was asked. Barbara continued to ease the pain of the sky goddess but grew more worried each second. The wound was infected. Sucrose burst in soon after, tears forming at the sight before her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Liyue Harbor’s esteemed top herbalist arrived with a small zombie girl. Together, the best healers from both countries began to work hard. They poured all their energy into their work and successfully removed the infection. By the time the sun began to come up, the wound was rapid healed but scarred terribly.

Though morning approached, the temporary residents of Dawn Winery found themselves crawling into bed to get some rest. Jean didn’t want to leave the eight archon’s side but was convinced to by her loving sister. The healers slept all day and all night long, missing the arrival of Liyue’s highest regarded people and adepti. Not a single soul dared to peak at the mysterious goddess as she slept, in fear of interrupting her much needed peace.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

24 Hours had passed since the arrival of the eighth archon. The herbalists and knights began to wake finally as morning approached. Unfortunately, when they went to check on the strange woman and her injuries, the room was empty. Dread set over Dawn Winery with the goddess of the stars missing once more.

Noon soon came to pass but there was no sign of the Celestial Archon. Everyone had split up to search for her but had no luck. Aether was frustrated and panicked as he fell onto the grass. Suddenly a large gust of wind blew him over, Paimon clutched to his hair as a winged blue beast shot across their line of vision.

“Dvalin?” Venti stood abruptly, “Could it be..”

Realization hit Aether, “Let’s go! We need to follow him!”

Aether, Venti, Kaeya, and Lisa trailed behind the dragon. Paimon screamed at them to slow down but they were too focused to care. Finally, out of breath, they stopped. Dvalin had landed on the edge of a cliff, his head leaned down to press his snout against the cheek of a beautiful woman. Her hair was still long and wild but not unkempt. Her eyes shone bright like stars and her skin seemed to glow under the sunlight. Aether was awestruck. Was that really the same person he rescued only a day before?

The wind carried her laughter as the majestic beast snuggled up to her. Her hands came up to stroke his scales as her feet left the ground. She truly was floating. Starstruck, Aether and the knights of favonious could only stare. Venti, however, burst forward with a gleeful giggle. The celestial archon turned as the bard crashed into her. Dvalin rested his head atop of hers as her arms wrapped around the childlike god.

“Don’t worry, Barbatos,” She reassured, “I missed you, too.”

“You scared me, you stupid supernova!” Venti nuzzled his face into her chest.

Aether shivered as a growl tore through the air. The noise startled him enough, he fell right on his ass. Xiao shot forwards, ripping the anemo archon off of the celestial archon.

“You bastard drunk,” Xiao’s face was dark, “Don’t touch her as you please.”

“Ehe,” Venti giggled as the adeptus held him by the collar.

Aether stood and sighed, gazing at the shocked woman. He turned, hearing footsteps behind him. Zhongli had found them and the remaining adepti trailed behind him. The eighth archon’s mouth was agape. She flung herself at Xiao, tackling him. Venti escaped the yaksha as the goddess fell ontop of him.

“Oi,” She grinned clutching onto him, “I think I even missed your shitty attitude, pretty boy.”

Xiao’s face was red as he grumbled, “Just shut up, space case.”

Zhongli clicked his tongue, impatient. He pulled the goddess off of the yaksha and embraced her. His sudden affection made her cheeks flush but she returned the hug. Zhongli’s arms tightened around her, fearful that he would wake up from a dream. After a few moments he released her only for the poor bright eyed goddess to be swarmed by the adepti.

She giggled as they each took turns showing her how much she was missed. Even as Cloud Retainer scolded her, the smile never left her face.

“What exactly happened to you anyways?” The female crane adepti grilled the goddess.

A nervous laugh escaped the young woman, “Well, I kept thinking about how my heart was restless. So I guess I kept walking. Eventually this strange darkness consumed me and I couldn’t go anywhere. It was as if all the evil gods I struck down were exacting their revenge. Some time ago, the void I was stuck in opened up a bit and I escaped but was forced into something even worse. There were terrible monsters and powerful beings who sought my abilities I guess. They mistook me as a new goddess and attacked me.”

Aether’s ears perked up. She was talking about the Abyss, he was sure of it. His heart hurt at the way she tried to mask the pain of the endeavor. She reminded him of Lumine a bit.

“So anyways,” She continued, “I ran again and got caught in this space. It wasn’t bad, but nothing happened. I mean nothing, I was actually stuck for real that time and the space seemed to shift around me even though I couldn’t move. Time didn’t pass and my thoughts came to a stop, too. Then I was forced out and I think I was falling? That blonde kid picked me up but I was weakened. Sorry I don’t remember much but that.”

“Forced out, hm..” Cloud Retainer seemed stuck in her thoughts.

“That’s not quite right,” The goddess sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, “It’s more like it shattered? I think I fell with the pieces of it.”

“How strange,” Kaeya started, “It almost sounds like a domain.”

Zhongli nodded, “It does. Let’s not discuss this any further for now, it seems to be a painful topic.”

The celestial archon smiled gently at the geo archon, embracing him again. Zhongli stiffened but wrapped his arms around her again. Aether felt Xiao shift next to him, he glanced at the adeptus and had to restrain his laughter. He didn’t think the rough adeptus could ever pour, but there he was pouting.

After exchanging greetings and parting with Dvalin, the group headed back to Dawn Winery. Paimon had already taken a liking to the goddess of stars. Aether couldn’t blame the chubby fairy, the archon seemed oddly mortal to him. The other Archons carried themselves with grace and authority. The Celestial Archon was strangely human. Her appearance was godly and she did have a sort of divine aura to her but she was far more down to earth then even Venti.

“So why did you leave so suddenly?” Aether’s curious eyes met hers as they hiked back to the winery.

“I, uh, well the sun was calling to me.” A bashful smile formed on her lips.

Aether raised his eyebrows, “Calling to you?”

“Yeah,” her eyes were a bit distant, “It’s as if it was reminding me that the sun is a star, too. It willed me to bask in it I suppose.”

Paimon giggled at the archon’s clumsy wording. Aether pondered over what she said, thinking it was unique. Dawn Winery came into view and the traveler noticed that everybody else had returned. Chaos ensued at their arrival.

“Ahem,” Venti cleared his throat, “This is the eighth archon. The Celestial Archon, Seraphim. I call her supernova though cause she’s beautiful and destructive.”

“Hello! Let’s skip formalities, feel free to call me by my chosen name!” She introduced herself cheerfully.

Everybody chose to ignore Venti’s comment on the goddess being destructive. She was far too kind and gracious to be anything of that sort. Aether was the only one among them who noticed Venti’s words. They filled him with curiosity.

“I’m so hungry,” Paimon groaned.

“Oh, I missed food!” The bubbly goddess yelled, “Let’s eat! Can we eat?”

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The dining room was filled with chatter as they celebrated the arrival of the long lost archon. Paimon was stuffing her face as Venti chugged another bottle of dandelion wine, hiccuping. Diluc sighed as Kaeya poured another glass for himself with rosy cheeks. The scarlet haired man found himself looking for the celestial archon again. No matter how heard he tried to distract himself, his thoughts and eyes always found their way to her.

She was levitating above her seat, giggling as people brought her food to try. Xiao was uncharacteristically calm and looked happy even, as he fed her bits of almond tofu. Zhongli was smiling at her as she took sips of tea. The goddess picked up the small zombie girl and sat her in her lap, letting the child introduce “coco goat” milk to her. Things were going well overall.

Diluc watched as the kind hearted goddess set the child down and excused herself. She glided towards the terrace with a lingering sadness in her eyes. The esteemed Ragnvindr swiped the unopened bottle of dandelion his brother was reaching for and uncorked it. For a moment, the man was hesitant but his legs carried him to the open terrace anyways.

“Hello, Mister Diluc,” The goddess greeted him without turning to look at him.

“Pardon me,” He stopped at her side, “I don’t mean to intrude. This is a gift for you, Dawn Winery’s special.”

She glanced at him through her peripheral vision and held out her hand. He sighed and placed the bottle in her slender hand, watching her take a sip. She returned to staring at the stars above, sipping on the wine. The tycoon couldn’t help but stay by her side, seeing the look of longing she had. He felt that if he left her, she might just disappear again.

“It’s good,” She murmured, closing her eyes.

“Thank you,” Diluc tried to hold back the smile growing on his face, “I appreciate that you’re savoring it and not gulping it down like certain alcoholics.”

A snort escaped from the girl, “Barbatos the esteemed anemo archon and local alcoholic.”

Diluc snickered at her comment. She was so surreal. Everything about her felt dreamy, it was truly enchanting.

“I can leave you alone with your thoughts, I am deeply sorry if I disturbed you.” The man sighed and turned, but was stopped by her fingertips grazing his wrist.

“Diluc Ragnvindr, you are not a bother,” She sighed, “I am just a fool who would rather look for answers in constellations than face the reality before me. For me, not much time has passed since the Archon War. So you’ll have to forgive me if I seem cold, I simply am frustrated and depressed by the changes in Teyvat. I missed thousands of years and it will haunt me for a long while.”

Diluc’s jaw nearly hit the floor at the bluntness of the woman in front of him. He was empathetic to her situation, after distancing himself from everyone around him he had moments of sadness as well. He was also fascinated by her adoration for the stars.

“Do the stars give you answers?” He asked quietly.

She laughed, “Not always, but i’m able to read the constellations of an individual, even you Darknight Hero.”

“Oh, fucks sake that’s mortifying!” He groaned and then leaned in, “Wait. I have a constellation? How much do you know?”

“Your constellation is Noctua, and it’s fairly easy to read. I know that you pretend like everybody is bothering you at all times, because you don’t want to be disappointed again as your brother disappointed you after the loss of your father. You feel the need to be strong and never seen as weak, somewhere between inferiority complex and social anxiety.” Her words made his heart pound.

“But,” She continued smiling, “I understand. I also have daddy issues of sorts. And it often feels easier to put up those walls.”

Diluc was speechless. Their conversation was interrupted by clapping, as Kaeya made his way out of the shadows. Any vulnerability left Diluc at his brother’s entrance. He quickly exited the balcony seeing Kaeya’s smug expression.

“You are interesting,” his voice was almost sultry, “Tell me, what do you see from my constellation.”

The goddess gave him a sour look. She was quiet for a minute, eyes narrowed at the man. He waited, expectantly.

“Pavo Ocellus,” She sighed, “A complicated constellation. You do carry a heavy burden savior of Khaenri'ah. So much of you is shrouded in mystery, although that’s fitting isn’t it? I don’t know enough to see you as a threat, however your dishonest habits and constant tests you put people through seems irritating.”

“Oh, you’re bold,” He grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Bold, beautiful, and busty. Just my type.”

“And you say things like that so casually,” She pushed his hand away, making her way back to the dining hall.

“Sir Kaeya, you should be careful saying such things. If you aren’t, somebody might fall for you. It’s like a honey trap. Give the wrong person the wrong idea and you’ll find yourself in a pinch.”

With that, she left the calvary captain alone with his thoughts. He was pulled in by her, but knew she was dangerous. His mind shifted back to Venti’s word earlier and he clicked his tongue. The bard may have been onto something.

When Kaeya returned to the banquet, the Celestial Archon was back to eating and being doted on. Xiao’s glare was locked in and targeted as Kaeya sat a short distance from the goddess. Kaeya merely winked at him, sticking his tongue out slightly. The yaksha’s hand flew to the spear by his side as he snarled at the cryo wielder. The goddess noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere and moved to the adepti’s lap. He blushed and scowled, but set his head on her shoulder.

The young woman’s affection towards Xiao didn’t go unnoticed and soon Zhongli was offering her tea while Venti offered her booze. Even Jean was attempting to seek some attention from the goddess. For once, Diluc and Kaeya had the same thought. That woman is troublesome.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #xiao x reader #genshin impact imagines #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin khaenri'ah #genshin liyue #genshin mondstadt #genshin aether #genshin alatus #genshin jean #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #Celestial Archon Series

[husbandohunter]

Boys over flowers [Genshin Impact/Various x Reader] Part 2

Not everything had to be about fighting. Ahem Childe.

Genre: fluff, angst(?)

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Xiao

{Zhongli}

Out of all the bountiful possessions in the land he carved with his very own hands, the glaze lily had always been his favourite.

This flower was a nostalgia stained with time. As much as he loved them, the love he felt was more of a bittersweet sadness if anything. The loss of a friend, his mentor, someone he cherished so deeply, all of it was held into a single glaze lily.

Once as Morax, now as ordinary Zhongli, in those 6000 years he had seen it all. Even his grief for Guizhong faded into a memory.

Sometimes Zhongli felt like he was reading from a story book. Detatched while staring through an omniscient standpoint. It seems that his infinite years brought both experience and lonliness along the way.

"Zhongli? What are you staring at?"

But not when he was with you.

The glaze lily went on many journeys when he met you

He remembers the first encounter on a sunset night just as the petals  were about to bloom. You were there, crouched down, staring into his golden eyes.

“This is for you! Not many can be fully matured like this so make sure to take good care of it,” You held it out to him and he takes the stem out of your hold.

“A parting gift, I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Zhongli sees it as a sign of a new contract, “It seems you possess a good eye when you were selecting them.”

He remembers the bouquet you presented during his birthday, the garland you placed on his head when he was reading, the vase by his desk always filled to the brim whenever you’d pay a visit to his parlour.

He remembers how the blue petals scattered across the floor the day you two married, everywhere he went so did this flower. Everytime he saw this flower, he thought of you.

Was it okay to feel like this? No one can ever replace Guizhong, was it okay to love again even when this being was much more perishable than she was? Zhongli was use to the experience of tragedy and loss as it was part of life.

Ah, so this must be what it feels like to live like a mortal.

To cherish every passing moment knowing that it won’t last forever. He will embrace it to the end. 

Old memories that were once dust rose from the soil, now reborn into a new beginning. Your curious gaze leans closer to his profile, sitting side-by-side under the blankets of your shared bed, the corners of his lips lift into a small smile.

“I’m only reminiscing, my dear. You don’t need to worry for me.” He kisses your forehead and tucked you to bed. The candle now blown out as his arms wrapped around your waist while spooning from behind.

Zhongli closed his eyes, knowing if he dreamt of a garden full of glaze lilies, there will be no sadness behind it.

{Childe}

Mother fucker would try to turn this into a sparring session.

This is why you NEVER invite Childe. If the valley were the air nomads, Childe was the fire nation. He’d stomp his muddy shoes in front of you just to get your attention simply because he knows it will piss you off.

An angry s/o means a potential fight. Win win situation.

Thus, no one blamed you for giving him a cold shoulder after that.

“Aha, looks like I went a little too far, didn’t I? Alright alright, I’ll stop trampling on your flowers from now on, you have my word. So talk to me, okay? Please?”

Alas you spare him a glance, “Make that a pinky promise.”

He didn’t know you were so serious about gardening. The Feiyun commerce guild took greate pride in cultivating the finest silk flowers in all of Teyvat and you being from that guild held up that legacy. Even if Childe tries to buy back the ones he stepped on, nothing could match the quality of your work.

Needless to say, your little hobby became a normal thing, Childe was very chaotic in nature so something more calm was nice to mediate that attitude. You taught him how to water plants, place the fertilizer and knowing which ones to pick.

But let’s be real, florist Childe isn’t that far-fetched because he is 10/10 waifu material.

Then Teucer comes in and tags along. He wanted to take some silk flowers back to Tonia until Childe informed him they’ll wilt on their way to Snezhnaya. 

“Aww, that’s too bad,” he would say while pouting, “Then I’ll give them to you big sister (Y/n)!”

“How sweet, you’ll be quite the charmer when you’re all grown up, Teucer. Maybe even better than your big brother.”

“Come on now, babe. You know that’s impossible.”

You twirled the silk flower right under your nose, the playful tone never leaving your voice, “Oh really? You and Teucer both share the same genes so yes, it is a possibility.”

An amusing glint dances in the ocean of his gaze as he gleefully remarks, “Well if you put it that way, I think Teucer would be at a very big disadvantage.”

“What do you-”

Before you could finish, Childe covers Teucer’s eyes and leans over to steal a sinful kiss, sliding his tongue inside. He purposely brushed his lips over yours after parting, completely satisfied by your flustered expression.

I love this bastard

{Xiao}

Hip hip hooray for having both Qiqi and Xiao in your party. Must be fun collecting their ascension materials.

“Adeptus Xiao!”

Your dumbass fell off the high cliff while obtaining the violet grass, Xiao yeets in from nowhere and caught you from death’s clutches.

Shall I mention that this had happened TWICE already?

Xiao carries you to safety and gently settles you down to your feet. He shot you the sharpest and most deadpan look he could muster because actions speak louder that words, he was trying to make a point.

You gave him a weary smile as the violetgrass batch limps in your hands along with the qingxins.

“I can hardly fathom how utterly stupid and moronic you can actually be. What did you think would happen when you tried to pull off that stunt? That you’d suddenly grow wings and be able to fly?”

His harsh words put you back into your place like a scolded child, “I’m sorry...I just wanted to help...”

Mah man does not watch what he says and always end up guilty. Your kicked puppy look is really going to be the death of him. He means well, just harsh when it comes to your well-being.

“Fine, give me those. I’ll take care of it.” He wouldn’t allow you to retort, he just took them from your hands and left without a word.

Let’s just say that Xiao isn’t the best when it comes to handling flowers as he would handle monesters, his touch isn’t the most delicate either and would prefer to get the job done fast. 

Sometimes he’d pull the roots our along with it, dirt and mud dripping from the bottom of the stem. Or the opposite. He pulls too hard and the stem just SNAPS and you’re left with just the blossom. 

“Does it matter? They’re only ingredients as you’ve said.”

That gave you a perfect excuse to teach him the ways of gardening and just be more delicate overall. 

At first he didn’t understand why humans were so meticulous about these things but when he saw a man present a bouquet to his wife, Xiao began to reconsider his methods. He doesn’t undersand mortal traditions as much and sticks to something simple and classy.

Don’t be surprised when you find a bunch on your desk for your birthday <3

{Albedo}

The sheer cold of dragon spine could naturally kill any botanical organisms aside from mints. The only flowers Albedo usually sees are the ones he artificially makes.

But being the genius he was, Albedo knew every variety of flowers to exist in the book. In this case, HE was the expert.

To him, the flower was the symbol of life. Albedo only knew the scientific facts of plant life and their natural functions, you on the otherhand were more familiar with the flower languages in a deeper meaning.

Today was a rare day where Albedo figured he’d step out of that freezing lab and conduct his research somewhere warmer, specifically Windrise where it’s quiet and away from the city.

“Dandelions may not be flowers but thei’re the main specialty of Mondstadt carrying the meaning of ‘freedom’! That’s probably how the Acting Grandmaster got her title.”

“Freedom...” He ponders, “I guess you cold say that.”

Albedo can’t understand why people would choose to associate meaning with plants. Where do their ideas come from? And why? Frankly, he can’t see the point in any of it. 

But at the same time, it made him happy to see you so enthusiastic about his research even if it wasn’t quite near the target. Albedo had always been so engrossed in his work and you’d just silently keep him company of the side, not many times where you both fot to nerd out on the same topic.

Emotions were still a mystery to him. It seems that even upon the most boring subjects, they don’t seem boring anymore when talking to his significant other. Soon enough, Albedo found himself putting his research aside and just listening to you talk. 

“And the Rose expresses romance and love. It’s common for lovers to give it to another during Valentines day.”

He hums cheekily, “Are you telling me that just to hint me to give one to you?”

“W-Well, I didn’t say that.”

He got nothing done. Perhaps his research can wait for another day, right now, he was more curious on what other meanings can a flower hold.

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #genshin childe #childe x reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #nya-writes

[witcher-trash]

Witcher Fic Recs 15

Blue Christmas (coën/lambert, geralt, eskel, ciri, vesemir, teen, complete, 2k, major character death) They’d all been a mess for weeks now, but Christmas Eve looming on the horizon had only made things worse. Geralt didn’t plan to open the riding school again until into the new year, and Eskel was keeping himself busy with the farm, but Lambert had closed up the workshop and hadn’t so much as looked at a project since he’d dropped everything to rush to the hospital after Geralt had called. Geralt and Eskel were worried about him.

Decade (eskel/lambert, explicit, complete, 4k) Lambert’s being a brat. Eskel puts him in his place (and figures out what’s wrong in the meantime).

Euterpe (jaskier/lambert, mature, complete, 2k) Lambert acts on instinct, kicking the man’s feet out from underneath him and pinning him on his back in one swift move. It’s fairly useless, for a monster, letting out a terrified scream as it drops their only water source. It tries nothing that could be called self-defense even if held upside down and looked at sideways. “What are you?” Lambert hisses. “Nothing dangerous, I swear!” the thing squeaks, “A minor god, you wouldn’t even know of me, no one does anymore!"

Geralt of Rivia and the Jewel of Cintra (geralt/jaskier, eskel/triss, teen, complete, 50k) The Son, the Wife, the Mistress, the Tutor or the Mysterious Elf? With monsters now extinct, witchers had to find other lines of work. Unfortunately for Private Detective Geralt of Rivia, he owed Sigismund Dijkstra a favour and the Head of the Redanian secret service was cashing in. There had been a high profile murder and he needed someone to go and discreetly sort it out.

Hold Not the World in Your Hands (aiden/coën, coën/lambert, aiden/lambert , mature, complete, 3k) Coën tends to Aiden's wounds, and learns more about this Cat his lover is in love with. Or, 5 times Coën touches Aiden + 1 time Aiden touches Coën.

Letters (geralt-centric, teen, complete, 2k) Jaskier receives a letter from his family to remind him that he's loved. Geralt decides to send a few of his own.

Lifeguard to my Heart (aiden/lambert, mature, wip, 10k) Lambert gets talked into buying surfing lessons by his girlfriend right before they break up. He'll be damned if he's going to waste the good money he paid for them so he guesses he's going to learn how to surf now. That hot lifeguard that always seems to be on the beach when he's there certainly helps matters too. The Lambden Surfer AU that no one asked for but you all are going to get anyways!

Punishment for a Trainee (ivar/warritt, explicit, complete, 6k) Warritt always has the most intense ideas, and Ivar's happy to give him what he wants. This time, little trainee Warritt can't seem to get himself to behave, but Grandmaster Ivar knows exactly how to fix that.

Surviving Hard Knocks (vesemir-centric, mature, wip, 22k, graphic depictions of violence) They never expected Vesemir to live. Not when he was a child. Not for his Trials. Not on the Path. Not during the Pogroms. And certainly not when the King of the Wild Hunt took the seriously injured eldest witcher through the portal. But Vesemir has managed through dire straits before. Now he must draw on old lessons and experiences to survive his capture by the Wild Hunt. His friends and allies are worlds away. Cirilla is still in danger. Vesemir is at the mercy of a cruel elven king and a viciously intelligent viceroy. He must not only survive his imprisonment, but escape if he is to help his small family against the invading elves. Because Vesemir will be damned if he will let anyone hurt his family while he has a single breath to draw.

The Old Hen She Cackled (eskel-centric, explicit, complete, 35k, graphic depictions of violence, please read all the tags, this is very dark!) Someone on Tumbler wanted a fic where Eskel is not the good boy he normally is. This is that fic. - He remembered seeing Vesemir’s eyes light up with joy as Lambert threw himself through the oaken doors of the keep. He remembered the laughs and hugs when Geralt would return for the year. He coveted the looks they got from the last surviving master of the Wolf keep, but what he got instead was a small smile, a nod, and occasionally, a pat on the back or a simple embrace. It was because he was, Eskel. Good ol’ steady Eskel, who returned every year without fail.

The Portraits of the Witcher as an Old Man (geralt-centric, aiden/lambert, teen, complete, 3k) When the crowds finally part and Geralt sets eyes on the painter’s masterpiece, his first thought is well, at least that explains the funny looks I’ve been getting all morning. People had been gawking at him, smirking as if they knew something private about him, and whispering to each other. It hadn’t felt malicious per se, more like one of those dreams where you suddenly find yourself outside in public without your clothes on. Now, with the reason for that sensation displayed before him in all of its questionable glory, Geralt has to give it to his gut for the exceedingly apt comparison.

To Live Well (erland, gezras, erland/arnaghad, mature, wip, 3k, graphic depictions of violence, major character death) Living well is the best revenge — that's how the old saying goes. But what does it mean? Is it burying the past in the depths of one's mind and moving on? Is it seeking bloody vengeance to ensure that one's abuser will never happen to anyone else ever again? What does living well mean when so many have lost so much? Erland of Larvik — dedicated community leader, loving husband, caring father, and first survivor of the atrocious mutations inflicted by the masterminds behind the Order of Witchers — thought the worst was behind him. But when a stranger barges into his life, Erland is forced to confront the real horrors of their shared past. How does one move on, if living well can only be made possible by killing an idea?

Rainbow Farm Chronicles - series (eskel/geralt/jaskier, aiden/lambert, explicit, 100k) Eskel and Geralt just have a few too many aesthetically pleasing attributes to ignore, which Jaskier tries not to make into a problem. Of course the two most attractive people in town are married. To each other! It’s fine, it will be fine, because he’s here for the adventure, and the change, and to make friends. A boy can dream and appreciate the nice things that present themselves to him so handsomely, ok? Or: Geralt and Eskel are hot and competent farmer husbands, Jaskier is their new oblivious vet who is looking for adventures in the little mountain village of Morhen, Lambert and Aiden are absolutely besotted with each other, Vesemir is the proud farmer dad/grandpa, and Ciri has always loved rainbows. A Modern Farm AU where everyone is queer, including Roach.

Star-Laiden Sky (eskel&lambert, aiden/lambert, eskel/geralt, teen, complete, 2k) It’d been a long, hard year, the entire continent bracing for war. But Geralt had brought a fight home to Kaer Morhen with him that winter, and there hadn't been much time to rest in the midst of battle preparations. But, in a stolen quiet moment, Eskel takes the time to really look at Lambert. He doesn't like what he finds. (i.e. Aiden lives but not yet)

Whatever it takes (aiden/coën/lambert, mature, complete, 7k,graphic depictions of violence) A memory flashes through his mind, of two pairs of cat eyes, one amber-gold and one tinged slightly with green; of two hands holding his, one copper-skinned, the other the glowing warmth of umber, intertwining their fingers. Dimples, a quick laugh, warm skin, a shout reverberating through a keep somewhere, and two pairs of lips on his that feel like home. Coën. Aiden. The names stand out stark in his mind, like the flames of a bonfire. Lambert grits his teeth and takes another few steps, knowing that they are out there somewhere, waiting for him. * Lambert is being blackmailed by a mage for Aiden's and Coën's safety and finds himself in more and more dangerous situations. Can he save them?

when in toussaint (geralt/regis, teen, complete, 2k) “You’ll tire of wine soon, no doubt,” Regis says, standing at the door for the fourth time that week bearing a bottle of red and a rueful smile, “but, well. When in Toussaint, as it were. Or: Geralt isn't used to being taken care of.

#the witcher #coën/lambert #eskel/lambert #jaskier/lambert #geraskier #eskel/triss #aiden/coën #lamden #ivar/warritt #eland/arnaghad #eskel/geralt/jaskier #aiden/coën/lambert #geralt/regis #fic recs #so i dont think i can call these weekly anymore haha #lots of flavors this time! #I'm not really here you don't really see me I should be studying right now

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

TRUTH AND LIES ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.5k SUMMARY: You and Loki make a trip to the open market which leads to a flurry of thievery, arrests and an almost death. A/N: Hey hey, I guess I’m just updating this series on no porper day because I’m a bitch for procrastination wohoo! There’s so much going on in this chapter, probably a little too long but I hope you like it <3 gif from this gifset by @hiddleston-daily WARNINGS: Swearing, laser rifles, electrocution, intended execution, Loki being annoying. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

“So, what do you propose?”

Loki questions, walking beside you through the winding pathways of the outskirts of the city of Sakaar. Stalls propped up on stilts, colorful fabric hung overhead as a shield from the blazing sun of the afternoon. He’s dressed like a Sakaarian, drapery of vivid and bright colors, similar to yours—both passing through, hiding in plain sight amongst the crowd of contrasting species.

The place inevitably stinks, living up to the planet’s nature.

Yet, it’s a world of textile mania. Everywhere he looks, there’s a pop of color, radiant and brilliant. Whether it’s the clothes of the locals, the paint that adorns the structure of their faces, or the streaks of blue and red cascading down the walls of the city in the glimmer of the sun.

Your eyes seem to glow in the reflection of the sunlight; the shawl conceals the crimson scar well enough—barely recognizable in your disguise. Your gaze meets his. “Well, I propose we steal one of the Grandmaster’s ships. They're the only ones that are strong enough to enter the Anus.”

Loki flashes you a look, “You have to stop calling it the Anus.”

Your rapid steps come to halt at the foot of a stall, an extensive table with miles of crates filled with an array of vegetables and fruits. Some wiggle their way through the crowd of customers, some rigorously examining every blemish of each fruit while others attempt negotiating the prices with the distraught-looking vendor with a face of sapphire.

It’s a pastiche of a Pieter Bruegel painting. And the two of you are seemingly animate characters at the center of it.

Loki trails closely behind you—much to your dismay— shouldering a two-headed lady by accident, both heads snapping at him with blazing eyes. He mutters an apology as she quickly disappears into the crowd. He turns and nearly loses sight of you, instantly shouldering his way to stand beside your figure as you hum with amusement, brows raised. Your head tilts, eyes on him once more. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would it help if I called it the ‘giant red hole’ instead?”

He blinks. “You have somehow made it sound worse.”

You hum once more, cautiously gazing at the hectic vendor. “It’s one of my many talents.”

With a swift motion, he follows your fingers that delicately pluck one of the odd-looking blue enlarged berries from the stand, sliding it into your stash in a matter of a split second.

He’s almost impressed.

“I suppose thievery is one of your many talents.”

It’s both a question and a statement—Said in a tone of near mockery. Loki is starting to get on your nerves with the unnecessary commentary on every decision you made that led the two of you to this very moment—a routine you’ve repeated for years before his arrival. Oh and he’s well aware of the growing aggravation towards his sheer presence. It’s a feeling he’s no stranger to. It feels like home.

Your once monotony interactions are now turned into a muse for Loki’s own entertainment.

“Look, you really don’t have to announce and narrate every aspect of your silly observations like we’re in a stupid play. Especially, when I’m doing something that’s fairly frowned upon—”

“Fairly frowned upon? Really?”

A groan escapes from the scowl of your lips. You look like you’re about to kill him.

“Just shut up, for God’s sake.”

You snatch him by the wrist, forcing your way through the sea of Sakarriaans. Your grip is surprisingly firm—he scoffs, twisting his arm out of your grasp almost in a child’s manner. “Would you stop that?” he says as you lead him away from the bustling crowd, a corner where two perpendicular buildings meet. You turn to him in a somewhat exaggerated attempt to express your resentment towards him, pulling the shawl away, revealing your face as you hold your pointer finger to him like it’s a weapon. Loki instinctively staggers back in his stance. “No, you stop that!” you hiss, advancing towards him. “I told you not to mess with my shit and what you did there, that’s messing with my shit.”

Again, he finds himself caught in the act of your fury and frustration. He quickly notes that you seem to have an uncontrollable temper, and it’s unpredictable. You’re living in a constant predicament, one slight prod and you’ll burn, spontaneous combustion and you’ll burn right through everything, God or not.

You sigh, caressing your cheek. “I’m sorry, it’s just...I’ve been alone for so long and this,” You gesture between the two of you, “I never thought it’ll be possible to experience this again.”

Loki arches a beckoning brow. “Which is?”

You blink once, then twice, pursing your lips. “Company.” you punctuate it like it leaves an unpleasant taste on your tongue—you’re embarrassed to reveal a side of vulnerability. Like you have been in a constant fight to build the walls around you, to keep your guard up at all times, no matter the circumstance or cost. Whatever happened between you and the Grandmaster, destroyed the remains of your personality, your ability to feel like a human being and coping and living with the knowledge that you will never get off this planet and never return home for years. You deserve a fraction of his reverence, not sympathy.

Forced into the realm of independence with no one to cry out to. Your life oddly and eerily reflects his. He can’t help but feel that maybe it’s fate that hauled him out of the Bifrost, sending him flying into Sakaar and crashing into the very home you reside within.

His mouth runs dry for the first time because there’s nothing to say. You apologize even when you don't need to and the part of you that protrudes is your honesty—a part of you that differs from himself. You’re truthful, even to a stranger. Nevertheless, he nods.

A yell from a distance captures your attention, a man on the other end of the pathway that leads to the markets, dressed in the armor of red—a Sakaarian guard, armed with a laser rifle. The guard, unfortunately, might recognize you, with your face out in the open. Your scar makes you stand out like a sore thumb. It’s every criminal’s nightmare.

You discreetly turn your head towards the wall in a desperate attempt to hide your identity even though you very well know, there’s a significant chance it isn’t going to work. Your figure is now close to his, he can almost feel the erratic beating of your heart. You’re...afraid.

The sentry on patrol nears the two of you, expression unreadable, concealed under the mask of red strokes like warrior paint. His voice is low, authoritative. “Everything alright here?”

He must have noticed the commotion during the heat of your argument, perhaps recognizing the tone of your voice which does not help with the plan the two of you are drafting to get off this planet, or maybe, he is just genuinely concerned. The latter seems improbable by the way the guard stands, hands hovering over the trigger of the rifle.

Loki decides it would be best to negotiate and pretend everything is fine. He would much rather avoid a fight because he would hate for you to end up dying as a prisoner in the arms of the Grandmaster. Well, because you’re on his way out. Nothing more.

He turns to the sentry with his usual charming smile, palms raised to indicate he means no harm. It's an image of vulnerability. The guard seems to relax at this, fingers moving away from the trigger of his weapon although his posture remains sturdy.

He’s alone, no other guards are lurking nearby. If anything were to happen, at least it will be two against one.

How foolish.

“Everything is quite alright, kind sir. It’s just one of our...common little spats, nothing more. The missus says I don’t give her enough attention and well, you would know how that turned out—”

You nearly choke at Loki’s words. Out of all the possible reasons, he chooses a lover's spat as an excuse. An incredibly absurd and petty lover’s spat.

Now, you're his fucking missus.

The armored man is unfazed by Loki’s charm; he doesn’t seem convinced. He turns to you, gesturing to your figure with his rifle. “Show your face, ma’am.”

Loki is quick to step in. “Sir, I believe that would be rather embarrassing for her. You see, she has been crying, and it’s not a pretty sight. Red all over, bloodshot eyes—you know.”

You roll your eyes. Now, all you want to do is send your palm flying across his face. Hard.

Once more, the guard doesn’t completely believe Loki’s explanation.

Loki turns to you discretely, extending his open palm to you. He whispers lowly. “Do you trust me?”

You simply shake your head.

Nevertheless, you take his hand.

Before you know it, you’re being hurled by the arm, head first and now the two of you are in a full-out sprint, spinning, and weaving from every pedestrian. Your shawl is long gone, Loki has magically switched back to his original Asgardian outfit. The sentry tails behind the two of you, close enough to hear him speak through the telecommunication device attached to his armor. “It’s the girl—Scrapper 170!”

The two of you dive down an alley, the sentry starting to gain. Loki turns to you mid-sprint with an exasperated look. “Scrapper 170? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Now is not the time, Loki!” you groan, voice trembling with every land of your quick feet against the ground. The sentry halts and aims. A flash of purple passes you by an inch. You duck instinctively, feet stumbling and your hand leaves Loki’s. The laser beam crashes into a wall, leaving a massive hole in it. You hear a woman shriek from the other side through the hole.

You round the corner, catching the glimpse of not one but three guards running after you. You instantly spin away to see Loki just about a meter ahead. You power through, catching up to his side. The alley breaks into a clearing, leading you back to the open market that teems with the same hectic and rowdy crowd of Sakaarians. Another shot fires at the two of you; it blasts like a hand grenade—the crowd screams. Loki is shoved away from you and with a turn of your head, you completely lose sight of him. Another blast of the rifle, you duck in time as it hits the crate of fruits behind. You kamikaze down the little avenues lined with vendors and shops, careening through the labyrinth. There’s a sentry at every turn, emerging from the crowd, behind the counter, tent flaps, and crates.

Amid the chase, you halt at a dead end. Behind you, the guards are catching up. At the corner of your eye, you spot Loki on the other side of the market, a few stalls away. His eyes are wide, and you’re trying to catch your breath. You step forward, ready to make his way to him when suddenly you hear something tick by your ear, then a wave of excruciating pain burns throughout your body—muscles spasms all over, you could barely control your own body any longer. Then, complete darkness as you felt your knees give out, face hard to the ground. The last thing you heard was your scream.

-

Maybe, you are meant to live your life filled with events of deja vu—a life of full circles and time loops. Maybe, you are meant to live a life of crime with the constant disability to learn from your mistakes, having been caught on numerous occasions because as soon as your brain awakens from its weakening of electrocution torture, there’s a familiar sense of aftermath pain, the sight of colorful grand walls, the feeling your hands cuffed to a rock metal chair and the grinning smile of none other than the Grandmaster.

You are stuck in a cycle, and you’re never breaking free.

The Grandmaster calls out your name with an almost chilling enthusiasm to his tone.

“At last, we meet again, 170! I’ve missed you, you know. You, uh, you really were something, huh? Intelligent. Pretty. Brought me lots of great stuff. Like that guy—What’s his name? Oh! Ares, God of war. He was a brilliant champion. Now, look at you. All dirty, disgusting and that hideous scar, ugh—” The Grandmaster cringes, gesturing to your figure with that melt stick of his. You flinch as he nears you, deciding how much you hate that shimmering golden robe. “Though I’ll have to admit, you are good at hiding. It’s almost annoying...Do you agree, Loki?”

He turns and you follow his gaze. Loki stands by the corner, looking almost sheepish. Your eyes are now immense, face painted with hurt and betrayal albeit you don’t necessarily demonstrate it. Loki averts his gaze to the Grandmaster. “I suppose.”

The silver-haired man laughs with a wagging finger to him. “I like you, Loki. I really do.”

You cringe at his words. He turns to you, smile gone.

“Hey, now you are going to tell me—I mean, really tell me—who exactly you are and where you’re from.”

You spot the furrow of the God's brows. His voice is faint, like the time at the market, asking you to trust him. “Is she not from Earth?”

The Grandmaster seems to be taken aback by Loki’s sudden question, narrow eyes bouncing between the two of you. Then, his mouth curves into an apparent ‘o’. “Oh, I see what’s going on. Wow. You actually believed that little story of hers? That she’s from a planet called Earth and an astronaut? Oh, you poor thing,” He speaks through his chuckles, amused by Loki’s expression of bewilderment.

So much for being truthful.

“You know, I always have the intuition for liars like you. So, there was no way you could have faked it all the way through.” His attention is on you, but you’re too busy looking at your unlikely ally or you dare say your partner's unreadable manner. Blank face. Usual posture. You hope to spot a hint of sympathy or sadness in his eyes. There’s nothing.

You can’t save yourself and neither can he.

You, after all, betrayed him in terms of your unknown identity. It’s expected he wouldn’t do the same. Yet, this is Loki getting a taste of his own medicine. If it weren’t for your imminent death, you would find this situation rather amusing.

“So, are you going to tell us the truth?”

Your gaze returns to the taller man. “No.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that single word being the last word you speak.

The Grandmaster blinks then shrug coyly. “Oh well, that’s quite a pity,” he moves around, gazing at the surrounding guards, hand on his hip. “So, uh, we’re doing this, huh?”

No one in the room moves or speaks.

He sighs, extending the melt stick to you. “Yeah, okay...See ya, then!”

You shut your eyes, ready to succumb to the pain of being liquefied. You wonder if it hurts and that the past victims you have witnessed were being dramatic as they screamed for the end of their lives rather than the pain itself. In all honesty, you’re terrified although you believe you shouldn’t be. Death is inevitable, after all, and you’ve been prepared for many years, living in hiding.

This is it. This is when you finally rest.

You miss home. Wherever that is.

“Wait!”

Your eyes are wide open, they fly to Loki who has his arm stretched out, nearing the Grandmaster. The melt stick is inches away from your face. The Grandmaster spins away from you, attention directed to Loki. “Really, Loki? I was so close to having the pleasure of melting her!”

For an Elder of the Universe, he could erratically act a lot like a child. A child with an obsession with control and murder. Psychopathic child.

You observe the two enter an argument of whispers and dramatic hand movements. Then, the colorful psychopath in that hideous shimmering coat swivels in his stance, gaze at you as a heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Fine. I guess I don’t have to know who exactly you are. On behalf of Loki here who seems very keen on keeping you alive, you are pardoned,” Your mouth flies open in response. “But! I’m putting you on probation. 142 will be keeping a close eye on you. So, yeah. Lie to me again and I’ll have you executed for real.”

The Grandmaster walks away and your wrists are released from the cuffs of the chair.

Loki retains that darn smirk on that charming face of his.

-

The slave quarters seem huge from the last time you were here. In comparison to your unstable shack of a home in the outskirts of the city, anything cleaner and brighter than that shithole was enough to fulfill your heart’s desire for an ideal place of residence. It’s the same room you occupied before you fled and went into hiding. You recognize the markings on the wall, roman numerals, hidden in the corner by your bed, counting the days since you arrived on Sakaar. That was years ago, maybe a decade—you lost count.

There’s a knock on the door; it swishes open to reveal none other than Loki, dressed in a different but relatively similar outfit to his original Asgardian clothing. It’s blue instead of green. You abruptly decide you like the way it brings out the specks of blue in those irises of emerald.

You cross your arms. “So, I assume you got caught, but I want to know how the hell did you not get this thing?” You tap the obedience disk on the curve of your neck. His smile curves into a smirk. “One word: Silvertongue.”

Your snort, nearing him. “That’s two words.”

Loki simply rolls his eyes. “No, it isn’t. It’s two—it doesn’t matter.”

That deafening silence wave over the two of you. You purse your lips.

“Why did you save me back there?”

The God blinks, shoulders squaring. There’s a sudden tension in the air.

“Well,” his head tilts as he clears his throat, trying to form the right words. He wets his lips. “If someone manages to trick the God of trickery himself, maybe that someone is worth saving.”

His response startles a distinct silence from you—the silence of awe and contemplation. He says you're worthy of saving, a sentence you never thought you’ll hear from the man who crashed through your roof and proceeded to be threatened with a dagger. The man who seemed to have some sort of inclination and ambition to annoy the death out of you. It’s bizarre how life works, how two diverging lives end up intertwined with one another in the most unlikely circumstance, and how time truly heals. It mends the wounds of the lonely, the ones who were told they were never enough.

Maybe scarce and scarce turns out to be enough after all.

You see yourself in him, a complex mind and a misunderstood heart. It’s frightening how you somehow understand, and you somehow don’t simultaneously.

People are complex. Life is complex.

He watches you with that same look when he initially heard the vocals of Freddie Mercury.

You’re no Freddie Mercury, you know that.

Your voice cuts through the silence. “Thank you.”

Loki seems to snap out of what felt like forever, responding with a curt nod.

“I’ll see you at dinner then,” he says, backing away into the hallway as he readies himself to leave. “And please, wear something better than that hideous heap of trash.” He gestures to your figure; your clothes are rugged and filled with dust and sand.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“We can resume our plans to getting off this planet after that,”

With a smug look, he spins on his heel and leaves. The door closes with a whirring sound. You feel heavy.

And God, you need a drink.

You quickly locate the drinking glasses, in one of the cabinets above the kitchenette. As you rummage through the rest of the drawers and cabinets in search of a bottle of something, a soft hum from the other side of the room catches your attention.

Your figure spins and you’re met by the sight of a group of materialized armored soldiers, clad in black. You heave a profound sigh of relief, a grin curving upon your lips.

“You guys finally found me! What took y'all so long? I’ve been stuck here for ages—”

“It appears to be a standard sequence violation.” one of the armored men say with an A-50 scrawled vertically on his helmet in orange.

You furrow your brows, feeling your heart stop. “Wait, what—”

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the Scared Timeline.” Hunter A-50 speaks. There’s a wave of sympathy flashes upon his expression. “I’m sorry.”

The cup falls to the floor, shattering into serrated pieces that surround your feet. Your heart begins to pound. As the other hunters grasp onto your arms, you are hauled through the translucent glowing doorway. Then, you hear the words of A-50 that struck your heart like a dagger.

“Reset the timeline.”

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki imagine #loki series #marvel imagine

[forasecondtherewedwon]

In the Arms of the Anus

Fandom: Spider-Man, Thor Pairing: Roger Harrington/Grandmaster Rating: T Word Count: 8883

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @spiderman-homecomeme!!!

Summary: While people all over the world are finding their soulmates, Roger Harrington can barely find time to grab a sandwich. Clumsy, anxious, and stagnating in a mediocre marriage, it's a miracle that he still believes in love.

Today's the day the universe rewards that belief.

Three things about Roger Harrington: he’d just tripped on the sidewalk, he worried daily that he was developing a bald spot, and, at the age of 36, he felt he still believed in love as strongly as did the little girl in his building who’d made all the residents Valentine’s Day cards the year before.

The cards—which Roger had found endearing while his wife had been baffled to the point of annoyance—had been wedged into everyone’s mailbox sometime on the afternoon of last May 19th, and maybe that was why he thought of them today, exactly a year later.

It was helpful, he found, to consider love in markers of time passing, or just numbers. The anniversary of those Valentine’s cards would always be 271 days early, leap year or not. Roger had been married twice, longer the second time. He had zero children, and that was alright with him because he wasn’t totally sure that he did want kids and, anyway, he was too profoundly stressed about the welfare of the teenagers he taught at Midtown to comfortably imagine himself as a fulltime parent.

His wife was cool. Significantly cooler than he was. She drove out of the city to hike every other weekend (he had never joined her and hoped to never be called upon for woodsy companionship), had once performed an emergency tracheotomy on a friend at a dinner party, and had a tattoo on her hip that predated their relationship, which made it consequently, eternally, enigmatic, no matter how many times she told the objectively trite story of its acquisition. Also, she was a casual shoplifter, which made him very, very nervous in a way that he found difficult to differentiate from how he felt when he was turned on.

He was the kind of person who consistently forgot to take his glasses off before stepping into the shower. She was the kind of person who would run into and recognize a famous race car driver at Whole Foods (that had happened) or fake her own death (that had not happened—knock on wood!). Essentially, what and who his second wife was was the natural successor to his first wife (the reckless young bride to his insomniac young groom), who had in turn been the natural successor to the only other romantic encounter of his life worth mentioning: a kiss on the cheek at a birthday party on the day the Berlin Wall fell. Roger had been seven.

So his romantic history was speckled and, in two out of three cases, spoke a little too loudly of a need for legally-recognized codependence. So he didn’t feel like a man anyone would ever get a tattoo in honour of. So his wife had been a little unkind in the long pause before her negative when he’d asked her if she thought he was getting a bald spot. Roger still felt that love was going to happen for him. Hopefully sustained in his current marriage, but if not, there was always what Julius Dell had taken to (highly unscientifically) calling the Love Wave.

If Roger decided to be really delusional, he could pretend that the Love Wave was to blame for his stumble over uneven concrete on his way to grab lunch. That he was finally feeling its cosmic tug. Not that he would be the last to sense it—the inexplicable force that had lately begun guiding people the world over to their new partners—but every day that he didn’t, he feared his wife would feel it first and go careening out of their life together in a Thelma and Louise-style launch that somehow left her intact and him feeling like he’d plummeted to his death at the bottom of a canyon. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he imagined feeling that impulse to go to this destined soulmate and pictured it leading him home. Not in some metaphorical way, but literally home, to the apartment he shared with his wife, to find her arriving at the same time, the two of them matched up, the universe endorsing their marriage.

The reality was that he was a man with clumsy feet (and knees and elbows) who’d forgotten to pack himself a lunch and had just enough self-awareness (though probably not dignity) not to believe that eating in the cafeteria with his students was something he would be able to socially recover from.

He thought about a poorly-cut-out pink heart glued to a fold of red craft paper. He went to buy a sandwich.

At the deli, Roger waited in line and didn’t so much allow his mind to wander—like a dog off-leash in a dog park—as feel his mind jerk insistently away—like a dog on-leash, trying to snap a dropped slice of pizza off the sidewalk. He was violently not present as his thoughts migrated from Valentine’s Day cards to lesson plans to the anxiety he always felt over the fact of never seeming to have enough power to go with the tremendous sense of responsibility he felt for all situations in which he was even remotely involved. He would have, should have, continued to shuffle vacantly forward in line, except that the man ahead of him grumbled something that drew his focus.

What he grumbled was: “Even the Sorcerer Supreme should be able to spare a minute to decide what kind of sandwich he wants.”

Now, Roger Harrington was a man of science, but he was also a man who had previously enjoyed a close friendship with the Hulk (and if anyone challenged him on specific parameters within that assertion, Roger knew that he would cry). Aliens swarmed the sky like clouds of bees. There were compilation videos of Spider-Man nearly getting hit by city buses that could’ve been designed expressly to see how hard Roger could flinch. For a clumsy man with the unathletic, knock-kneed gait of Pippi Longstocking, Roger did his best to roll with the supernatural punches. Hey, this was how science worked too: just because there wasn’t a precedent yet didn’t mean there never would be. Just because he couldn’t explain something didn’t mean no one could. Sorcerers? Alright. There could be sorcerers.

“Sorcerers?” Roger blurted to the man, overeager to expel the word.

All other words had fled to the back of his mind, twitching in an agitated cluster, leaving just the one to be snatched frantically from the surface. Like fishing. (Roger had never been fishing. One of his greatest fears was having a live fish somehow jump into his shoe and stepping on it by accident.)

“Uhhh,” the man droned. He looked uneasy. If Roger knew how to make his eyes a little less wide in situations like these, he would’ve done it.

“No, yeah, sorcerers, sure,” Roger swiftly backpedaled. “I’m a teacher.”

As if being a teacher equaled knowledge of sorcerers. As if that were a normal unit of the high school curriculum. Roger’s understanding of sorcerers began and ended with Mickey Mouse in a blue wizard’s hat. He wondered if that was sort of the standard look.

The man did not appear reassured. Roger thrust his hand forward.

“Roger Harrington, Midtown Tech.”

Face still wary, his deli companion shook hands.

“Wong.”

“So, this sorcerer of yours didn’t pick a sandwich?” The line shuffled forward and, now in reach of the long glass case of food, Roger attempted to lean his elbow casually against it, misjudged the distance, and jerked back upright again before he could fall over.

“No… You heard that part too?”

“If I could hear the part about the sorcerer, why wouldn’t I be able to hear the rest?”

“I think most people would’ve been so fixated on the sorcerer thing that they wouldn’t really absorb the part about the sandwich.”

“Just got sandwiches on the brain, I guess,” Roger said.

God, if Wong knew a sorcerer, odds were that he was a sorcerer too. (Roger based this on being a teacher with almost exclusively teacher friends and acquaintances.) He was making it sound like he cared more about sandwiches, he knew he was. He stared silently at Wong for a few painful seconds and wondered if the man could tell that he had worked for a sandwich shop as a teenager—the role of wearing a full-body sandwich costume and standing on the sidewalk, trying to attract people into the shop.

But Wong surprised him by nodding.

“You could get one of everything,” Roger heard himself suggest.

He was not typically one to make suggestions, but rather one to panic when other people did and he was in the position of having to choose between them. He could never decide on a restaurant for he and his wife’s now few-and-far-between date nights, or provide straightforward feedback when she asked for his opinion on her clothing choices… which movie they should see… what they should buy for her friend’s sister’s housewarming gift...

Oh god, she was probably going to fake her own death and his biggest anxiety was knowing that someone would ask him to choose the casket!

“I have like…” Wong jingled his pockets and extracted a fistful of coins that, when he opened his hand, Roger saw belonged to several different currencies. “…six bucks.”

Like a mirror with a delay, Roger patted his own pockets to locate his wallet. He flipped it open to reveal something promising and terrifying: he’d forgotten to return the school credit card after the last field trip he’d chaperoned. He shouldn’t, but… sorcerer.

“I think this’ll cover it,” Roger said. “It’s for emergency expenses.”

“Like lunch?” Wong asked doubtfully.

“I could be very hungry.”

“They sell seventeen different types of sandwiches here.”

“I could be very, very hungry.”

Wong shrugged in evident acquiescence and Roger marvelled that it was so simple for him to accept this act of generosity. Roger couldn’t recall the last time someone had been as generous towards him. Wait, yes he could. The Valentine’s Day card. Well, handing over a credit card that wasn’t technically his didn’t exactly equate to presenting his ticket at the Love Wave gates (not that there were such things—not that he’d know), but he was hoping to trade this generosity up for a different magical experience in the near future.

When they reached the front of the line for service, Roger ordered a total of eighteen sandwiches. (And received an undisguised groan of complaint from the people still in line behind himself and Wong.) While they waited, Roger buzzed like the posterchild for over-caffeination, doing his best not to let his excitement translate into erratic movements.

Of course, once the sandwiches were presented and paid for, it only made sense for Roger to help Wong carry them all. His own ham-and-Swiss was stuffed into one of the three bags and they were all bulging, threatening to spill. If one of them ripped on Wong’s journey back to wherever he had to take them, who would be there to gather the sandwiches into their arms so that Wong wouldn’t have to leave them on the ground? Roger was clearly the best (only) person for the job.

And if they talked on the way? That would be natural. If Wong stared at him with abrupt, unyielding suspicion the instant Roger attempted to negotiate a visit with this ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ in exchange for buying his lunch? Yeah. Yeah that suspicion would be fair.

“Not for my sake!” Roger defended as Wong blinked back at him. “For the kids!”

“The Sorcerer Supreme isn’t a birthday party magician.”

“No, I would never imply that! These are bright kids. They’d be there to learn, respectfully. They’ve had their own traumatic encounter with Spider-Man already so there wouldn’t be any clambering to meet another person with superhuman powers!”

“What did Spider-Man do to traumatize them?”

Wong looked interested now, in an entertained sort of way. Meanwhile, Roger was having a flashback of his life flashing before his eyes inside the Washington Monument.

“Actually, he saved us,” Roger explained. “That’s not the point. It would be purely educational. You and the Sorcerer Supreme would call the shots. As long as it wasn’t anything dangerous.”

“Dangerous? We would never put children at risk!”

Roger was about to clarify that he hadn’t meant to imply that they would when he realized Wong seemed to be taking this as a reason to prove himself, or to make the other sorcerer prove what he’d just said.

“I would hope not,” Roger said carefully, “because not all of the children I’ve taken on field trips have come back alive and that haunts me.”

“Well, what haunts me is everything I’ve seen and learned from in order to become someone who could now guarantee a safe field trip environment.”

“Well, that would be great.”

“Well, good,” Wong concluded.

Roger looked down at the bag he was holding as he dug out his sandwich. His wrist twisted and he caught the time on his watch. Oh wow, oh no, his lunch break was almost over.

“Ok, deal,” he said quickly. “We’ll come by next Tuesday!”

“I’ll be out here to let you in!” Wong agreed with a parting wave.

Roger took off running in the direction of Midtown and when that got too awful, he wheezed like an asthmatic and waited at the closest bus stop.

—

Roger had expected Principal Morita to say there was no room in their budget for this trip. That they were nearing the end of the school year, that parents and guardians would be reluctant to sign another form for an excursion that Roger could only give a vague, stammering explanation of. At the very least, he’d anticipated the journey via school bus in lurching, stop-and-start traffic to take so long that the kids would revolt; Flash Thompson would lead the complaints that they could’ve walked to their destination faster than the ride took and Roger would feel the primal horror of a confrontation with a self-possessed teenager who wielded the kind of peer influence Roger could only have dreamed of when he’d been Flash’s age.

But no.

Highly improbably (Roger didn’t like to consider it miraculous), things went smoothly. The trip cleared the budget assessment on zero notice because, besides renting the single bus to transport the students, their outing didn’t actually have any costs. Permission slips came back signed. Traffic was light. And dear, dear Flash—who usually gave Roger so much anxiety—slapped the hand Roger raised to shield his eyes from the sun as his students disembarked from the bus, rewarding him with a surprise high-five for getting them out of the classroom on a Tuesday afternoon. It almost knocked Roger’s glasses off.

They were ushered inside by Wong, who was now laying the mystical solemnity on pretty thick. He certainly wasn’t talking about sandwiches or complaining about the Supreme Sorcerer under his breath.

Before Roger could feel too good about himself though, he realized he’d had time to run through his headcount of the students three times without interruption. Normally, something would happen partway through his first count and he’d be uneasy for the rest of the day, sure that one of the kids had fallen down a manhole or been stampeded by a dog-walker’s unruly canine swarm. The universe shoved teenagers into the path of bike couriers with one hand and paired up soulmates with the other. That was just how things went! However, inside this house (or, no, Sanctum, Wong had called it), the air was still and quiet.

“Do you think he’s gonna make himself appear out of thin air?” Roger heard Ned ask at a whisper. “Or out of a wardrobe, or a trapdoor, or one of those boxes people get in to get sawed in half?”

“Those are cheap tricks,” Wong said loudly. He stared unsympathetically at Roger’s motley group, hand closed around his opposite wrist to maintain a serious pose. “The man you’ll be meeting shortly has capabilities that far outstrip those of the kind of magician-for-hire you’d find in a phonebook.”

From behind him, Roger heard Peter ask Ned what a phonebook was.

“What kind of capabilities then?” Flash demanded.

Roger sighed and was turning to reprimand his student when Wong said, “Like this!”

The man faked a sneeze of horrific volume and range, doubling over and cupping his hand around his mouth and nose. When he straightened up and presented his open palm, there was a raspberry sitting in it.

Roger closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and his teaching career played on a fast-forwarded film reel behind his lids. The Sorcerer Supreme was a no-show; all Roger had accomplished was taking the kids to a weird building to witness a man pretend to sneeze out a raspberry. Midtown Tech was going to fire him. His wife would recognize his unemployment as a reason to leave him. Depressingly, Roger was thinking about how that would almost be a relief—an end to his incessant worrying that they were really kind of a mismatch—and he was thinking it while he blankly watched Wong eat the raspberry he’d just feigned dislodging from his nasal cavity.

He was really unprepared for a different man to come sweeping down the stairs, motion with his hand, and have a red sheet come whizzing down after him to settle itself on his shoulders. Roger blinked. He heard the mixed noises of fright and appreciation from his students.

Then Flash piped up with, “That’s just a trick. It’s wires or something.”

Roger backed into the cluster of his charges and, without taking his eyes off the obvious Magical Guy in front of him, reached over and placed his hand across Flash’s mouth.

Unfortunately, his censorship seemed to be too late. The Sorcerer’s narrowed eyes zoned in on Flash.

“Oh yeah? How ’bout this? Is this just a trick?”

Fingers splayed, the man moved his hands in a precise, practiced way and a window opened up in the middle of the room. No, not a window, but Roger was having a tough time wrapping his head around it. What this non-window showed was something that wasn’t the room, that wasn’t a view of the street, that wasn’t anyplace in New York, if he had to guess.

“You can’t just do it like that,” Wong said wearily. Roger felt himself and his students look from one of the men to the other as though watching a tennis match. “There should be a little more finesse.”

“Look,” the Sorcerer told him. “You don’t get to spring this on me and then expect me to ham it up for the kids. This isn’t a David Blaine show.”

“Maybe you should watch one. You might learn something about showmanship.”

“So, it’s fake, right?” Flash checked.

Dammit, Roger had dropped his hand, distracted as he tried to make out what he was seeing through what he was becoming increasingly comfortable with calling a ‘magic portal’ in his thoughts. He scrambled to take hold of Flash’s shoulder—yanking him back would be bad, but dealing with the fallout of him pissing off somebody who could make magic portals would be much worse—but Flash dodged him, swaggering forward to inspect the Sorcerer’s work.

“What is it? Mirrors? Greenscreen? You buy your tech from Stark?”

“Stark?” the Sorcerer spat out derisively.

Overcome with the terrible feeling that he was about to find out what it looked like when a wizard put a curse on a child, Roger sprang forward. As he did, three things happened: the Sorcerer rotated his wrist slightly, the scene on the other side of the portal changed, and Flash turned to the side.

Without a student to grab onto and pull to safety, Roger’s momentum sent him hurtling through the gateway currently connecting Midtown to parts unknown.

Of all the times to trip, he thought.

—

The world was bright and fast and bad. Actually, Roger was almost positive that what he was seeing wasn’t the world at all, but he couldn’t put a name to where he was any more than he could think of better adjectives to describe it. Unless the Sorcerer Supreme owned a magical slip ’n’ slide that operated at speeds designed to train prospective astronauts for space travel, Roger was no longer in his building.

The colour of the tunnel of light surrounding him turned from something like the intestinal track of a unicorn who ate lightning and nebulas to a dangerous, broiling red. Roger kept waiting for his skin to bubble, his face to melt off. Maybe he was the fabled frog in the pot of boiling water and had failed to notice the heat steadily increasing. Because he didn’t feel hot. He couldn’t tell whether or not he felt cold either and before he could work it out, he finally landed.

It was rough.

He curled his arms up around his head, protecting his face. He hit and tumbled, hit and tumbled, banging his shins and elbows, setting off a series of metallic clangs and thwumps like his body was playing drums made of the contents of somebody’s recycling bin. Roger could see—once, shaking, he was able to lower his arms and open his eyes—that his imagination hadn’t been far from the mark: he was lying in a heap of trash.

Trembling like a baby deer, he got to his feet and assessed his surroundings. There were piles everywhere. Piles of stuff. Roger could identify some of the battered objects, but most were utterly alien to him. This was like the time he’d found his wife’s sex toys all over again.

“Hello?” he called out, because he seemed to be alone. “Hel—”

His throat closed off abruptly when he swiveled in place and noticed the sky. His mouth fell open. Was that what he had just come through? That furious-looking, billowing, volcanic, enormous… disturbance? Weather pattern? Entrance to hell, if hell were a mountain of trash?

Oh man. Where was Spider-Man this time? Roger didn’t know which would come first, but if something distinctly reassuring didn’t happen in the next 30 seconds, he was going to either burst into tears or pee his pants. His cool wife was going to be so bummed to have to declare him dead instead of faking her own death. And his students would be traumatized, having just witnessed their teacher disappear before their eyes. He spent a frantic 17 of his 30 seconds wondering if this were Jumanji and he’d started a game without realizing it; being sucked into a board game was another of his greatest fears, ever since he’d watched the chilling horror film Jumanji in his teens.

“Hello?” Roger croaked a final time.

Some other scientist—a Tony Stark type—would thrive in this scenario, Roger knew. They would scavenge the surrounding mounds of metal, collecting and assembling pieces into some sort of technology that would either get them home or enable communication with a rescue team. Would there be a rescue team for Roger Harrington? Would anyone even try to get him back?

The cry/pee conundrum was looking more like cry with each passing second until suddenly, amongst the broken things Roger was aggrieved to consider the lone sentinels of his demise, some kind of spacecraft touched down. Based on his recent luck, whoever was at the helm was likely here to kill him, but he immediately elected to throw himself on their mercy, whether that meant rescue or just a swifter snuffing out of his life than he would otherwise experience on this sad island of garbage as he died from dehydration, starvation, and exposure to that infernal gateway in the sky.

He mouthed the word “help” more than said it as he staggered forward on legs he could hardly feel. A door in the side of the spacecraft slid smoothly open and party music blared out. Roger flinched back as though he had not heard the sounds of civilization in years.

A woman exited the craft. She wore an expression about as kind as the murderous upside-down mushroom cloud in the sky and when their eyes met, she barked, “Back!”

Roger executed an awkward reverse lunge, pleading hands raised. Ok, now that his time had come, he didn’t want a quick death. Put out of his misery? No, he would learn to live with his misery, the way he’d learned to live with his college roommates, or his wife’s collection of handmade bowls! With food and water to sustain him, he was suddenly confident that he could be successfully miserable for years if this intimidating woman would just leave him to his own pathetic devices.

But then, like a visitation from a tan, eye-liner-wearing angel of indeterminate age, a man in gold robes emerged from the vessel. He beamed like he had always been beaming, and always would be.

Just like that, Roger Harrington got it. He got what Hot Chocolate meant when they sang that they believed in miracles. He got the meaning of Kylie Jenner’s year of realizing stuff. He got why a child would send out Valentine’s Day cards in May and why his wife was so dedicated to her hiking group and why he was here.

“Now, what did I say about that before we left?” the angel seemed to be asking his companion, though he’d locked his eyes on Roger. “Did I say to harass our visitor or did I say to be nice?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Roger, which he felt more than saw; it was possible that he was crying after all. Tears of joy.

“Harass,” she answered flatly.

The angel chuckled.

“You know, I do like having you around. Before you, I said to myself, ‘Next time, get an enforcer with a sense of humour.’” He sighed as his laughter dwindled. “But you can, uh, skedaddle back onto the ship now. That’ll be all.”

“What if you want to melt him?” she queried.

That was enough to tear Roger’s gaze away from the man and send it zipping nervously to the threatening almost-smile the woman was now directing his way. He’d preferred the murder face.

“Melt him!” the angel said, in a tone that implied her suggestion had been ridiculous. (Roger relaxed. A little.) “Topaz, don’t you realize who this is? Don’t you know?”

She shrugged.

“Trash.”

“No, he’s not trash! Do you think I would’ve left the Grand Arena to retrieve a new gladiator by hand? All those Scrappers don’t do my bidding just so I can dig through the garbage looking for fresh challengers for my champion! I wouldn’t even assign Scrapper 142 this task, and you know she’s my favourite!”

When the woman only grumbled, the man pressed, “You have an unbelievable poker face. Do you really not know why I flew all the way out here for this guy?”

“I’m his soulmate,” Roger blurted, because that was the one thing he did know.

He had no idea what a Scrapper was, or whether the man in front of him was more or less important than the ‘champion’ he’d mentioned, or how his homicidal sidekick planned to melt Roger, but he understood what was happening here. Forget the Love Wave—what had come for him had yanked him violently across solar systems, maybe galaxies. He’d been sucked under by the Love Riptide.

The angel pointed at him and proudly proclaimed, “Correctamundo!”

Then he strode forward and folded Roger into a hug. Roger thought this must be what it was like to be a piece of antique furniture, tenderly wrapped in gold leaf.

“I’m the Grandmaster,” he said.

“Roger Harrington,” Roger offered, feeling that his life was entirely surreal as he cautiously returned the hug.

“As soon as I felt you land on my humble little planet here, I came looking. My orgy guests were disappointed, naturally, but I had to put my interests first. What was I, elected? If they wanted a leader who would pretend to care about everyone equally, they should have organized themselves into a viable political party capable of rivalling my dictatorship, am I right?” He drew back slightly and laughed. “You should see your face! I’m kidding. I would’ve had anyone involved in such a thing put to death. Don’t you worry, Hairball.”

Roger cleared his throat. He’d learned so much in the last few sentences alone. Death. Dictator. Orgy. Any one of those things was a lot to confront and yet… he was calmed by the Grandmaster’s presence. He was alive and unmelted. He’d managed to find his soulmate—a man he’d been almost certain to never meet as things stood with Earth’s individually-impressive but cosmically-insignificant progress with space travel. At long last, the universe had smiled on Roger Harrington.

“Just Roger is good,” he said. If last names ever came up again, he would tactfully correct his soulmate, but with a name like ‘the Grandmaster,’ he doubted they ever would.

“Roger. Anything you say.” Gripping Roger’s shoulders, the Grandmaster leaned in and planted a sound kiss on his forehead with a loud, “Mmmwah!”

He asked Roger if he would like to go aboard his ship, apologizing that it wasn’t the one where he’d just been having the orgy and appearing to check Roger’s face for disappointment. Roger didn’t know what the Grandmaster saw in his expression, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Inside the spaceship, Roger looked around with huge eyes. He hadn’t felt this kind of wonder in a room jammed with so much beyond his understanding since the first time his mom had taken him to the New York Hall of Science as a kid. Everything was bright and white and immaculately clean, and Roger could concentrate on all of it because the Grandmaster had Topaz drop the volume of his party playlist until it was just a low pulse of background noise. Seemingly amused by his awe, the Grandmaster allowed him a peek at the controls before gently herding him into a chamber with seating arranged for socializing. A pneumatic hiss sealed them safely inside and away from the woman’s scowl.

“I really just wanna sit here and, uh, just look atcha, but that look on your face tells me you’ve got about a million questions.”

The Grandmaster settled back into the bench seating, resting his long arms along the top of the seat. Across from him, Roger fidgeted, experiencing sensory overload. Soulmate. Spaceship. Alien planet. He found it hard to decide what to ask first. Was that even polite? Was the Grandmaster just saying that Roger could ask questions when he really wanted Roger to say or do something else? There was an awfully flirtatious look in his eye, the likes of which Roger hadn’t seen directed towards himself in several years.

“What is this place?” Roger asked before he could stop himself. “Where am I?”

“Oh! This is Sakaar! Are you saying you didn’t come here on purpose? I figured you weren’t aiming for a pile of trash, but you really didn’t know where you were going at all?”

Roger shook his head so hard that he had to nudge his slipping glasses back up his nose.

“It was an accident. I fell through a wizard’s—uh, I mean, a sorcerer’s—magic portal. That kind of clumsiness must sound pretty farfetched to someone who’s so obviously…” Roger motioned spastically towards his soulmate, the dictator, with both hands. “…in control of their life.”

The Grandmaster laughed, transparently pleased and preening.

“Oh, Roger, you flatter me.”

He stretched out his leg to playfully tap his shoe (gold) against Roger’s (plain, brown, frayed shoelace). Roger jumped, giddy from an alteration in sea level, possibly, plus life-changing events.

“But it really isn’t so uncommon for people, beings, things… to end up here without meaning to,” the Grandmaster went on. “A lot of junk passes through the Anus. Not that you’re junk, obviously.”

With a winning smile, Roger’s soulmate leaned forward and patted him on the knee. He was a touchy-feely guy, it seemed, and it made Roger cognizant of how very lonely he’d been in his marriage, in the last year especially. How skittish around strangers, how unaffectionate with his friends. This was what he needed, and the universe had understood that.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up with what his soulmate had said, distracted by the comfort he was taking in his easy warmth.

“The Anus?” Roger asked in a choked voice.

“The Devil’s Anus, to be exact. That enormous, horrifying wormhole out there in the sky!” the Grandmaster explained, gleeful. “Best I can guess, it acts as a funnel for accidental travelers, like yourself. And boy, are we ever grateful for that thing. I’ve never had to post any ‘Help Wanted’ flyers, I’ll tell ya that. We need more people serving drinks? Boom. More entertainers? Boom. More lubricators for the orgies? Boom, the Anus provides, baby.”

Roger didn’t inquire what the duties of a person with the job title ‘orgy lubricator’ entailed; it seemed sleazily self-explanatory. He just nodded.

“And now,” his perfect, golden match continued, “the portal brings me my soulmate. I love that thing. It’s really somethin’, huh?”

“It’s really something,” Roger agreed. “Really, really something.”

“You’re looking just a little stunned there, Rodge. Can I offer you something to eat? A drink? I promise, I’m usually a much better host. I feel like I’m positively, uh, bumbling right now.” He beamed.

This man was so many things at once—possibly too many—but bumbling was so far from being one of them that Roger actually laughed weaky in his state of happy, semi-delirium. He accepted the cold glass that was pressed into his hand, the brush of the Grandmaster’s warm palm across his forehead. He had moved to sit right next to Roger.

“You can get used to this place at your own pace, within reason.” His soulmate chuckled. “Heck, we can stay right here a day or two. My plans are cancelled, and when I stop, the world stops. That’s how it is, being the Grandmaster, and that’s how it’s gonna be for you too. You can give all your worries a big, wet kiss goodbye, my love. You’re living a life of luxury now. A court of sycophants, fights to the death in the evening, orgies on a lazy afternoon. I’m talkin’ a life of pure class—”

“Class!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I said.” The Grandmaster was wearing a languid smile as he traced the back of his fingers along Roger’s jaw.

But Roger was suddenly too alert to be lulled by welcome caresses and delicious, exotic beverages.

“I was teaching a class before I fell through the portal,” he said. “I’m a teacher. My students are probably terrified. Some of them might be messed up for life after watching me disappear right in front of them. What have I done…”

“So you gave them a cool story to tell their friends! You don’t need to think about that anymore. Now that you’re living here—”

“I can’t live here!” Roger said, seizing the Grandmaster’s hands in his as he tried desperately to explain. “I have responsibilities as an educator! Jesus Christ, I’m married!”

“Roger. Rodge. Rodge. Hey,” his soulmate said, finally disrupting Roger’s spiral of panic. “That’s all in the past. Do you know how many creatures from just, uh, every darn corner of the universe I’ve made slaughter each other for my entertainment? Thousands, Roger, ok? Thousands. And it’s taught me oodles about life. What I’ve learned is that love is the only thing that matters. What all of those poor bastards scream for in the end is their mom, their partner, their best friend. Now, that doesn’t help them, but it helps us. It helps us understand that we’ve done it—we’ve achieved the one thing in our lives that was worth a damn to achieve. I’m not gonna, gonna now be parted from you, sweetheart. You are the point of me.”

Roger felt himself growing teary at the speech. Yes, this had been a whirlwind—they’d met no more than 15 minutes ago—but he was feeling something just as deep as the love the Grandmaster described. It was a fantasy in the best way, the life his soulmate pictured for them (most of it… maybe not the part about slaughter). But it was a fantasy in the worst way too, something so impossible that Roger felt sick for getting as attached to this man as he already had.

“I can’t,” he said softly. He let his head hang down, solaced when the Grandmaster guided it onto his shoulder and wrapped a protective arm around him.

“Can’t you? For me? Roger, if I put you on a ship and send you back through the Anus, we may never meet again.”

Roger squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be selfish, but there were people he couldn’t leave in the lurch. People who maybe didn’t care about him in a way that was equal to how he cared about them, but that was how any kind of relationship was, apart from soulmates. There were imbalances. He knew he might not be the most brilliant scientist, the most inspirational teacher, the husband a woman would prefer over the outdoorsy hunk in her hiking group, but he knew who he was: he was someone who couldn’t just walk away.

“We’ll be together again,” Roger said, clutching the Grandmaster’s robes. “After.”

Though he didn’t yet know what ‘after’ would mean.

—

It wasn’t as unexpected as it could have been—Roger had always had a feeling he’d die on a school bus.

The difference between his fears and reality was that he wasn’t departing this world in a fiery crash or zooming out of control between the steel trusses and into the East River. There was confusion, there was chaos, there were screams and the violent honking of horns, but there were elements he couldn’t have predicted. Primarily, the giant alien spacecraft hovering over the city. The ship immediately moved into first place of the most ominous rings in his life (he and his wife were not in a good place). Since its sighting, things had quickly spiraled out of control. Julius had radioed Roger from the other bus of students they were chaperoning to MoMA to report that Ned Leeds had ‘flipped his shit’ and Peter Parker was currently missing. Roger had nearly passed out. The only thing that had kept him conscious was his jittery concern for the rest of his students.

At Midtown Tech, they had drills for almost every eventuality. As of 2012, hostile outer space invasion was actually part of their repertoire, but it had always been assumed they would be at school when it happened, not out on a field trip. The most Roger had been able to think to do was get the kids to a secure location. Which meant getting the buses to a secure location. But the buses were on the bridge, and all over the bridge drivers were panicking, mindlessly stomping on the gas and attempting to swerve around the rest of the vehicles. Above the blood rushing in his ears, he’d heard crash after crash, until their bus was hemmed in and, through the smoking, crumpled hoods of their fellow commuters, the alien ship hung stationary in the sky. Disturbingly tranquil as New York City went to pieces to the tune of apocalyptic dissonance just below.

In the end, the spaceship hadn’t stayed put, but Roger had. The lanes around them were crowded with smashed cars. Glass from shattered windshields glittered on the pavement. Still, more vehicles surged forward as drivers attempted to use the bridge to flee the city; this wasn’t NYC’s first alien rodeo. He hadn’t attempted to force any of his students to remain on the bus—they were some of the smartest and the best of their generation, and he trusted their survival instincts far more than his own—but he did direct the ones who fled to first climb up onto the roof of the bus instead of dropping directly down onto the street and risking injury. Yes, he worried about minor cuts and bruises. Even now.

He thought that Flash was staying with him, and was touched. But then he realized Flash was just gripping his shoulder for leverage as he jumped and grabbed for the emergency roof hatch with his free hand. Roger knew the boy was somewhat neglected by his parents, and so, for the first time, he was happy go hear ‘Hotline Bling.’ It was Flash’s ringtone and it played incessantly as his phone rang and rang until the song, and the sound of Flash running, faded into the distance. Somebody wanted to see that he was safe. Somebody cared about him.

Alone, Roger hunkered down between the seats, knees bent in front of him. He scraped one hand anxiously through his hair and gripped his phone in the other.

He should call his wife. He knew he should. Only, he was afraid that she either wouldn’t pick up or she’d answer and be with the guy from her hiking group. Roger wasn’t even upset; he was glad she had someone, if this was it.

Ever since he’d returned from Sakaar, he’d been different, he was aware that he had. In the past, his wife had been largely responsible for the sundering of their marriage, but Roger knew that he was now pulling away too. It had begun inside him—the tear. He wanted to be with two people for two different reasons. In two places, on two worlds. Commitment clashed with longing. Logical rightness fought emotional rightness. He’d been weak, persuading himself daily to tough it out with his wife (even as he slept on the couch every night because lying beside her made him unhappy), when, for once in his damn life, he wanted to be fulfilled. Somewhere out in the stars, there was a man with blue eyeliner and an entire planet at his capricious command and he was the person for Roger.

If only, he thought, picturing the face he shouldn’t have been able to recall so clearly for the brevity of their encounter months ago. Roger shut his eyes to better remember the Grandmaster, and so he wouldn’t have to see his phone clatter to the bus’s dirty floor when the hand that held it turned to dust.

—

As with his life on regular, non-apocalypse days, not much happened to Roger. Despite his paralyzing breakdown on a school bus, he wasn’t among the billions scattered to the wind like sentient dandruff. He picked himself up and went home. Sure, he was shivering almost out of his skin from the shock, but he didn’t collapse into wracking, snotty sobs until he was safely in his living room, listening to his neighbours’ wails through the condo’s walls.

Roger’s wife wasn’t there, didn’t answer when he called her, and, three weeks later, still hadn’t made contact. It took another two months to hold her wake; the funeral business was booming. Never had so many words been spoken over so many vacant graves. Some members of his wife’s hiking group attended, some had even helped him select the right music and flowers beforehand. They knew her preferences. It felt surreal to be burying a person he couldn’t prove—in any meaningful way—that he’d really known.

With a queasy sense of being very lucky, he accepted that, apart from his marital status, his life hadn’t been upended. His windows weren’t broken, his car wasn’t stolen, the few family members he was out of touch with anyway had also survived. He went back to work before anybody called him in. There weren’t any students at first, just the echo of Roger’s clumsy footsteps tripping over the rug in the staffroom, half-solved equations on the whiteboards in the math classrooms, and the unholy stench of unwashed pinnies when he poked his head into the gym storage room to see if Coach Wilson was around. One day, Roger tipped back in the chair at the front of his own empty classroom and spotted a gigantic cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. It made him think of Spider-Man. He guessed that guy was gone too.

The most important thing for keeping sane was establishing a regimen. Work was a big part of that, but Roger also traveled daily into Manhattan to visit the Sorcerer’s place. It became a kind of pilgrimage. Early on, Wong would come out to say hello, but it was eventually less about commiseration and more of a perfunctory thing. Roger knew (assumed, hoped) that if the Sorcerer ever did return, Wong would let him know and welcome him inside. And then… a portal? And then the Grandmaster? He tried not to think about it too hard. Yearning took up a lot of energy and, when his students began to come back to school in distressingly low numbers, Roger needed to reserve that energy for teaching.

Everything was the same, every day, until it wasn’t.

For a reason he couldn’t rationally explain, Roger knocked on the Sorcerer’s door. While he was waiting—just a few seconds, he planned—a man materialized on the sidewalk right next to him. He tottered and Roger reflexively said, “Whoa!” and grabbed his shoulder to keep him on his feet. Before Roger could hypothesize or ask the man any questions, a teenage girl returned to existence a few feet away. Then a woman holding a toddler tightly in her arms. A little boy. A man with a dog. A bicycle-less bike cop, still wearing his helmet. Releasing the man, Roger spun and pounded against the door with his fist.

Still, no one answered.

Fighting the urge to show up at Midtown Tech, Roger made himself stay put, right there on the Sorcerer’s doorstep.

He waited a long time. As the sun set, New York City rose around him. He watched people hugging, running home down the middle of the street. He fielded unfinished questions as the newly returned began to ask him what had happened, what time it was, what year, before jogging away, more purposeful with every step they took. Roger’s foot began to bounce on the sidewalk and his clammy hands twisted fretfully. It was still another 12 hours before the door opened.

Roger fell backwards into Wong’s shins, delirious from the sickening seesaw between urgency and exhaustion. Everywhere, people were reconnecting. He scrambled to his feet because he wanted to be one of them.

“Is he here?” Roger demanded.

Wong narrowed his eyes slightly, holding the door so it couldn’t be pushed open further.

“Might I remind you that it’s me you’ve been seeing here the last five years.”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed, trying to see past.

“I thought we had developed a rapport.”

Finally, Roger met Wong’s eyes, his own pleading.

“No, yes, you’re right, we have,” he babbled.

“We’re friends.”

“Yes, of course, we are friends. Definitely.”

“So when is my birthday?”

Roger’s mouth hung open as he searched his brain for a piece of information he knew wasn’t in there. A few seconds later, Wong turned mirthful.

“Did you spend the Blip hiding under a rock where there are no jokes? Come inside. We just got back.”

None of the thousands of times he’d come to the door mattered—Roger hadn’t been inside the Sanctum since that first time. He hoped the Sorcerer remembered him.

When he saw the man, Roger’s steps stuttered. The Sorcerer appeared grim and wiped out. He was dirty and he looked older, though Wong whispered to Roger that the Sorcerer had been among the Snapped. Roger understood that, for something to go right and bring everyone back to life, something else had gone wrong. He could dwell on that and awkwardly bow his way back out of there, or he could convince himself that things had gone wrong for him too, and that he’d like them to be righted. He remembered that his soulmate was a dictator and tried to channel that sense of entitlement.

“What do you know about the Anus?”

The Sorcerer blinked.

“What.” The word came out perfectly flat.

“The Anus.”

“I wasn’t that kind of doctor.”

Roger strode eagerly towards him, hands gesturing before his words caught up.

“When I was here about, um, five and a half years ago, I fell through your magic portal—”

The Sorcerer snapped his fingers in recognition and turned to Wong.

“Oh, that’s who this is. I always wondered what happened to that guy.” He looked at Roger again. “How did you get back to Earth?”

Roger hadn’t been prepared to answer this question, just make his demands, and he began to explain what had happened to him, all out of order. The words ‘orgy ship’ had barely left his mouth when the Sorcerer was waving him into silence. His expression told Roger he was sorry he’d asked.

“So you went through the portal…” he prompted instead.

“That’s right! And for a while, I was just falling. I don’t know where I was.”

The Sorcerer stroked his chin.

“The connection must’ve been unstable. I know—one of your students distracted me.”

“That’d be Flash,” Roger said.

“Jesus. This is why I prefer not to be a field trip destination. Normally, the portal would allow you to pass cleanly through one place and into another.”

“And instead he passed cleanly through the Anus,” Wong summarized.

“…Yeah.”

Roger glanced from one man to the other.

“So,” he said, “could you do it again?”

The Sorcerer stared at him.

“The short answer is no. The long answer is also no, but it contains a great deal of vernacular to do with the Mystic Arts, so I’ll save us both some time.”

The last time Roger had defended his intellect and qualifications had been years ago, and he was out of practice. Anyway, he didn’t want a lengthy debate.

“Can’t you just open a portal and shove me through?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a lot going on today. I’ve only entertained you this long because you and Wong seem to be friends. I’m not just going to mess around to humour you.”

“What if you had to do it?” Roger asked quickly, beginning to feel desperate and preparing to metaphorically jam one of his clumsy feet into the closing window of opportunity.

“Uh, let me think about that,” the Sorcerer droned disinterestedly. “No.”

“What if I attacked you and you opened a portal in self-defence?”

The Sorcerer squinted at him in disbelief and befuddlement.

“What?”

But Roger was already gracelessly throwing his weight into a wild, uncoordinated punch.

For once, he didn’t think critically of himself; he told himself that the Sorcerer’s portal sparked up between them because he was intimidated by Roger’s tenacity. And that it didn’t show a clear destination because the Sorcerer’s reaction speed was no match for Roger using the element of surprise. And that he dove purposely through the portal—on a mission for love and science and the unknown—instead of tumbling into it sideways because the momentum of his unpracticed punch had gotten the better of his balance. It didn’t matter. His feet went out from under him and he was on his way.

Roger had forgotten how intense the trip was, but he completely recalled the rough landing, bouncing down through a stack of the universe’s lost garbage. He shut his eyes to the whooshing and the brightness and braced himself (probably too early, but he didn’t think he could be too careful on this reckless endeavor).

He felt his body hit open air and gasped as he fell, trying to keep his limbs tucked in. The hat he’d been wearing was torn from his head. Didn’t matter; it wouldn’t have offered much protection anyway. At any moment, his poor elbows and knees would be battered by space junk. Between his velocity and his fear of the coming impact, Roger could hardly breathe.

Music. A familiar voice singing, It’s my soulmate! made his eyes fly open. Right in time to land on his back. Whatever was beneath Roger was soft, but he’d still had the wind knocked out of him and was struggling to fill his lungs. His eyes clamped shut as he began to cough.

“I have no idea how you survived that thing twice, but I sure am glad I caught ya.”

Finally sucking in a stronger breath, Roger opened his eyes and looked up. His glasses were askew. Above him was the opening in the ceiling of a hovering spacecraft, but closer than that, leaning over him, was the face of the Grandmaster. He was beaming.

“Any trouble with the Anus?” he asked.

Roger grabbed for the hand his soulmate had rested on his shoulder and moved it to his chest, right over his heart.

“The asshole who got me here will probably be thrilled to never see me again, but the Anus treated me just fine.”

“Ha!” the Grandmaster barked. His free hand lovingly patted Roger’s windblown hair back into place. “Welcome home.”

#my writing #MCU #spider-man #thor: ragnarok #Roger Harrington #En Dwi Gast (the Grandmaster) #their ship name is Mr. Master and they're what G deserves on her birthday

[heiayen]

albedo x gn! reader - interest (fic series)

no warnings for this chapter, albedo has a surname now- and it is of course kreideprinz, 3rd person view

chapter list: 0 - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - ???

word count: 936

it failed. again.

it was third time the experiment failed. something new, something unxcepted, was he really wrong about it? the elemental reaction was right, in all laws and rights of tevyat's alchemy, so why? did he actually needed elemental magic, rather than normal fire? it would make sense, the electro prism contained powerful electro energy and just fire won't make anything to it- except for a small boom, but it wasn't the result he was looking for. how much energy he needs to-

"mr. albedo!"

he didn't excepted guests, especially with the sign at the doors. but it was hard to not recognize sucrose's voice, so he didn't minded her interrupting him this much.

"sucrose, did something happened?" he asked without even looking up at her. the question from before, how much energy he needs to get any other reaction than a small explosion? using actual elemental magic from a pyro user would probably work, but at the same time it woud just feel like using shortcuts, and besides he wouldn't be able to control it. so, looks like he needs something else to get the required reaction-

"the acting grandmaster jean asked me to call you... apparently they need your help." the grandmaster? so, supposedly it was important...

"is this an important matter? can it wait till i'm done with my job?" he finally looked at her, and sucrose's expression was saying only one thing. it was actually important, more than his experiments.

"well... the knights have found someone and they took them to the catedral, and when they woke up... the demanded to talk with you." he raised eyebrows. looks like he has different definition of "important matter", comparing to knights.

"ah, so?"

"they came with an unique catalyst and said..."

now this was something he was actually interested in. a catalyst, an unique one? what was so unique about it? he was hoping it won't be just some more unique abilities that he will be able to explain in a minute, but something unique.

"ms. lisa tried to use it, but she wasn't able to, due to some strange elemental power... ah, i don't know anything else, i'm sorry..." sucrose sighed, as she finished talking. a catalyst with strange elemental energy around it, huh? guess his experiment can wait a bit, for the sake of discovering something else.

"tell them i will be coming in a minute."

.

it was so interesting. the core was pulsing slowly and glowing, despite not even being in use. it was so interesting, but also unexplainable. it wasn't even supposed to happen, but still-

their thoughts were interrupted by someone opening the doors and coming to the room. they looked in the direction and made a quiet "oh!" sound upon seeing albedo. the mondstadt alchemist, the chalk prince...

"i was called, what's the matter?" he asked and walked closer. his interest piqued the catalyst lying on the desk. it looked quite normally, but it's good to not judge the book by its cover, right?

"this is [y/n]-"

"please, can we skip introductions? it's a really, really important matter and there's no time to waste." now this was getting interesting. jean was visibly taken aback, but agreed for it anyway, a bit unsure but still did.

"mr. albedo kreideprinz." [y/n] looked at him, their eyes fully of determination. there was something about them and this whole case that was making him slowly and slowly more interested, more curious.

"this catalyst owns powerful elemental power, so powerful that it's even impossible to use– just like someone put a magical barrier on it, keeping people away from using it. i've tried everything i had in my mind to make it work, but it seems like nothing is working." they stopped for a second and looked back at the catalyst. it was strange, indeed– he had heard about many strange weapons, often full of elemental energy, making it hard or impossible to use. but this one... but this one was different, probably.

"i want to break the barrier and discover why it was put in the first place. i think, maybe because of its power? but at the same time if it was so, so powerful, they would keep it somewhere safe-"

"who do you mean by they?" he interrupted. they blinked, surely not excepting him to stop them. [y/n] cleared their throat, before starting talking again.

"i was talking about treasure hoarders... i was just wandering near their camp and saw this. it was clear they took it from someone, so i decided... to took it away" they admitted shyly. so, they were a thief?

"it wasn't smart to steal it from them. i assume that you had a fight with them?" he got a nod in the response. this whole situation was getting not only interesting, but also really suspicious.

"but please, don't think bad about me! we don’t know how powerful this thing is, so imagine what would happen if they managed to break the barrier!" they were right, of course. albedo didn't even needed to try to use it to know that there is something with it. but, what?

it was possible that it got stolen from someone powerful, but it doesn’t explain the barrier. he already had some theories in his head, but each one was just so easily to-

"so please, i- i have a request."

"what it is?" he really hated getting interrupted in thinking, but, oh well.

"i need help with breaking the barrier and you are the only person who is able to do it."

the only person...?

he nodded his head.

if you cant tell. im excited for this fic. and its soon 3am so short note today! but i really hope this fic wont flop so. let's go. cant wait for the plotwists.

#genshin impact #genshin impact albedo #albedo #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #heia's writin' #gender neutral reader #heia's writin interest

[yan-genshin]

- warnings: general yandere content (nothing super hardcore imo, since jean is so righteous she isn’t a super intense yandere), some minor spoilers for jean’s story.

♥︎  jean gunnhildr

jean has decided to dedicate her entire life to protecting mondstadt- she’s given up the usual life of most young ladies, spending her days hard at work, getting little to no sleep and time for herself for the sake of the city she loves

because of this, it just... catches her off guard when she realizes she’s harboring such strong feelings for someone. jean loves all of mondstadt and its citizens, but this is... different. it’s stronger, all-consuming; enough so it gets in the way of her everyday life

it’s perhaps one of her deepest secrets how... dearly she craves love. days of her childhood (and sometimes evenings when she allows herself some rest) spent reading romance novels, jean has always longed for a soft and reciprocated love, for the gentle emotions that are so delicately portrayed in words in those novels

“thank you, master jean! i’m so sorry for taking up your time for this...” the way they sheepishly thank her after she did something as minor as help them carry their food to their home makes her heart flutter. it’s no shock the acting grandmaster would be helping a citizen with a mundane task- it’s common for everyone to ask for her help with any task no matter how menial or odd. and yet, despite the fact she’s always running around working or helping, she only feels butterflies in her stomach when this particular person thanks her. she thinks of her romance novels- thinks of those words of love, emotions gentle and fragile like silk. but... that’s not quite it; as they walk into their house, jean feels her heart twisting, feels a dark side of her brain whispering little nothings that she tries to brush off. she quickly tries to brush off the dark emotions clouding her mind as she walks back to her office, resisting the urge to look back and try to catch a glimpse of them as they organize their groceries through the window.

she tells herself she’s a knight of favonius before she’s a person, that her duty is more important than any emotion. but like a persistent weed, ignoring her emotions only makes them grow stronger and more intense. she finds herself thinking of them the second her mind strays from whatever she’s doing, and then they’re always in her head even while she works- she finds herself giving little excuses to see them, help them even before they ask despite the fact that she’s got more work waiting for her in her office

those closer to her, such as kaeya and lisa, don’t have to make much of an effort to notice how the acting grandmaster is suddenly so centered on someone. and to all others, it seems sweet; they want jean to be happy, they want her to live her life a little. whenever they try to push her to get a break or rest, they always try to push her closer to her “crush”. as outsiders see it, this is the acting grandmaster finally doing something for herself

... if only anyone could tell how deep the rabbit hole goes, perhaps they’d be desperately trying to get jean away from her beloved instead of pushing them closer. it can’t be blamed that noone can tell- jean keeps herself regal and formal at all times, composed attitude hiding the downright obsessive tendencies and thoughts that swirl around her head, as if intoxicated by the mere thought of her beloved

it’s the middle of the night. mondstadt sleeps- the taverns have long since closed, even drunk bards and citizens having crawled back to their homes to sleep. and yet, jean is awake, finally having finished her workload for the day. it’s not unusual for her to finish work so late, and it’s not unheard of for her to take a walk at said hour to unwind; but it’s definitely weird to see her as she stands in front of a house’s window, just watching. the rational part of her brain tells her to step away, to stop doing this, but the other side of her- the side of her that longs for love, that can’t think of anything but them- just fuels her desire to stay, to watch them sleep through the window. she can’t even register that she’s quite literally stalking them; as she watches them, her heart fills with a warmth and possessiveness she’s never felt before. this isn’t the same type of love she feels for mondstadt- no, this is perhaps, jean’s first intensely selfish desire in a long time

jean is more subtle in her obsession. while to others she might come off as lovestruck or like she’s a young woman exploring her first crush, that’s far from the truth. she’d never dare use the knights or their resources for her own personal desires; jean takes it upon herself to sate her increasingly selfish heart. it’s almost stalkerish how she always seems to make time to keep an eye on her darling, be it when she has to run an errand or once she finishes work at ungodly hours of the night

it only grows worse when they begin to stop by her office, be it to drop off some snacks or just say hi. of course she suspects that lisa or kaeya put them up to it- after all, those two always worry over how hard she works, and it wouldn’t be farfetched to think that they’d go so far to ask the person they know jean likes to come and cheer her up. their actions, while well-meaning, only seem to feed the monster growing in jean’s heart; the domesticity she craves, the soft love she craves so badly, now that she’s gotten a taste of it, how is she supposed to return to her everyday life...?

“master jean, are you sure these knights should be promoted to patrolling outside the city...? they’ve been working as inner city guards for years now...” an older knight stares at the new orders jean has just issued. his concerns may be genuine, but she isn’t one to make hasty decisions. she nods her head, taking the paper from his hands and pointing at the names of the inner city knights to be sent out for patrols.

“it’s precisely because they’ve been working inside the city for so long that they’re being sent out. i have personally seen them train- their skills in battle are great, and we need our strongest knights out in the paths where hilichurls have been setting up camps. the troops that have been patrolling for long now grow weary; it’ll be good to switch them out for some time.” as with every decision she makes, jean always thinks of mondstadt before anything else. and yet, this time, there’s a secondary factor to her order. the memory of accidentally stumbling into her beloved being chatted up by one of the knights stationed inside of mondstadt burns in her mind, the way he was so clearly trying to flirt with them, making them giggle and blush- she might have stepped in and reprimanded the knight for slacking on the job, but that wasn’t enough. in the list of knights to be sent to patrol outside, his name seemed to almost stand out to her- he’d be fine, assigned to a well-traveled route with little incidents; but he’d be far away from her beloved, and that was good enough for her

perhaps it’s lucky that jean trusts the knights so much, that she considers her darling to be safe inside of the city. she must protect mondstadt; she must keep her darling close. jean can feel the shame burning at her gut when she twists some strings to offer them a job as a secretary of the knights- she’s abusing her power, she’s being selfish, but... isn’t she allowed to at least once do something for herself? the job is well paid, it’s not like she’s manipulating them into it, she’s just helping them out; all of the knights seem to be happy that the acting grandmaster is taking on someone to help tackle her ridiculous workload, so it’s all... it’s all fine, isn’t it...?

it’s hard for her to pinpoint where her self restraint breaks. perhaps it’s just because her heart can’t take spending so much time around her darling while keeping up a semblance of professionalism, or perhaps it’s hearing them cheerily speak of their friends and people they’re close with that lights a fire of jealousy in her; it’s as easy as one day jean simply embracing them and pressing her lips to theirs with no warning

it doesn’t matter if they feel the same way. it’s incredibly off-putting once they realize that the composed, regal, and rational acting grandmaster is so delusional. it’s as if days and days of hard work make some part of her rationale just break. this is her perfect romance. this is her perfect love story, and she’ll make it so no matter what

it’s so hard to be mad or to run away. jean is gentle in her affections, but she’s strong. and perhaps more pressuring of it all, she’s now their boss- they happily accepted to work under her, and even though she never even implies it, it’s not hard to imagine she could fire them just as easily. it’s easier to put up with it, to let her indulge her delusions, to make them sit on her lap while she works, to let her brush their hair and snuggle into them, if once the workday is over they can head home and lock the door, try to forget the day and go on with their life until they’re once again going to be in a locked office with her all day

“i love you so much. i promise i’ll never leave you.” jean’s words are sweet, but the soft tone she speaks in doesn’t do much to help how her darling tenses. she’s just returned from a mission that took a couple of days- it’s rare for her to take on fieldwork nowadays, but when she does, it’s almost a prized break for them. and when she returns, she’s worse than ever; clinging to them, not letting them even pretend to try and do their “work” as secretary. she might say her parents splitting and not having had a regular childhood doesn’t affect her, but by the way she swears to never leave, holding them tightly as if she’s scared they’ll run, it’s not hard for them to hazard and guess that she might be trying to fill the void of affection she never had with them.

she’s never hurt them, perhaps her instincts to protect all citizens of mondstadt being stronger than her obsession- but there’s times when she’s come close to it, they can tell by the way her eyes look when they push away, when they try to make excuses to leave work early. there’s not much they can do. if they quit and told everyone that master jean did all she did, who would believe them? nobody in mondstadt would ever believe jean, beloved by all of mondstadt, who works until late into night for the sake of the city, would ever do anything negative to a citizen. they could try to run away, but they don’t have a doubt in their heart that she’d catch them (she’s so much stronger, so much faster. she’s blessed with a vision, trained since birth. and them? they’re just a citizen, someone who’s been protected by the knights all their life). as she holds them close, they can feel her heartbeat; surely she can feel theirs, too. her heart beats fast with love, theirs with anxiety. she takes a deep breath and speaks again. “i think it’s time we moved in together, don’t you think...?”

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin x reader #jean gunnhildr #genshin jean #yandere tw

[dreamerhideout]

enhypen genshin impact!au hcs

characters: enhypen

word count: ~200 words each

warnings: mentions of alcohol for jay’s part, lore inaccuracies (i haven’t caught up on dragonspine event lore yet), spoilers for mondstadt + liyue main quest

a/n: i’m supposed to be working on something else but this brainrot got to me first... anyways, i’m assigning their visions + weapons based off a few fan theories i’ve read~ please enjoy my word dump! :D

more under the cut!

jungwon

okay so we’re starting off with our leader! hmm... i’d say that he has a geo vision

why? idk, i’m half sure it’s based off how calm and composed he is; i do kinda think jungwon is a picture of maturity and elegance (he literally has to take care of six children wdym)

it was kinda hard for me to choose a weapon because i kept going back-and-forth from sword to polearm, but my final pick for him would be polearm

yes this would mean that he is zhongli

a polearm would probably suit him because i see him as the kind to want some kind of control over his weapon (not saying he can’t control a sword). at the same time i feel like he’d want something lightweight which won’t bring him down

i think he’d work with the knights of favonius. working with the liyue qixing could also work for him, but considering the tension between the adepti and the qixing + the social climate of liyue makes me think that he’d want somewhere more calm

acting grandmaster jungwon? i’m down for it

spends time near the mondstadt church; he likes the peace and quiet of it

heeseung

from the get-go i knew he’d have a hydro vision

this one theory i’ve read says that hydro vision users have a strong sense of morality and justice (i guess i also interpreted it as balance) and heeseung seems like the kind of person who does

for weapon, i think he’d prefer to use a sword. we see that he’s good in a lot of areas when it comes to being an idol, so he’d perhaps want that versatility in the weapon he uses as well

hello xingqiu (wait i kinda think this fits)

i don’t see him particularly associating himself to any organization, so i think he’d simply be a wanderer. he goes from country to country as a vagabond, battling monsters along the way in order to perfect his skills

at the same time, i also see him making a lot of friends and having a bunch of connections from just about any corner of the land (more to acquaintances i suppose? heeseung doesn’t seem like the kind to let people in very quickly)

is probably very curious on elemental reactions and might be studious in a way; he would want to learn alchemy

likes stopping by mondstadt’s library when he needs to look up on something. probably keeps in contact with alchemists too

jay

oh man this is going to probably be very stereotypical

pyro vision, hands down. i was considering an electro vision for him at first but the amount of passion he has in doing the things he loves (primarily hip-hop) screams pyro to me

he would also have a claymore because let’s be real, he’d want something to get the job done quick; claymores are literally the weapon that causes the most damage

yeah he’d be diluc. or xinyan. whatever your pick is

bonks monsters for fun, fight me on this

association... i think he’d be a part of the adventurer’s guild. he strikes me as the kind of person who’d want some kind of reward for something he does for fun (in this case, mora. and a bunch of other items you can get from katheryne once you complete your daily commissions)

this is probably how he meets all his friends. if he wasn’t a part of any association, i don’t think he’d have many (not saying that he’s unable to make friends, he’d choose not to unless necessary)

strives to be a well-known adventurer, probably takes up more commissions than the average one

likes spending time in places with good ambience, food, and booze. probably is a regular at angel’s share and liyue’s street food stalls on days he comes to town

jake

i think he’d have an electro vision. it’s something about the way he fiercely cares for other people that makes me think that this suits him best

okay hear me out but i think he’d be amazing with a bow and arrow. he seems to have the tenacity and upper body strength for it, and i don’t think he’d particularly want something that could do a quick kill, like a sword or claymore per se

uhh... yeah he’d be fischl, i suppose. idk this realization was a bit weird to me but it doesn’t seem so far off from happening

sometimes uses his skills to shoot at fruit from trees; it’s a pretty good party trick

association-wise i don’t think he’d wanna join any, tbh. he’d be an “everyone’s friend” kinda guy. unlike heeseung who’d have acquaintances from all around, jake would generally want to befriend different kinds of people (helps around wangshu inn sometimes because of this)

still though, i think he hangs with members of the adventurer’s guild a lot

don’t be surprised if you catch him befriending a member of the fatui-

i also see him really immersing himself in the culture of each country he visits

he’s the guy who pets all the animals, especially the dogs

also seems like the kind to purchase or collect raw meat just to give to the stray animals he meets on his travels

sunghoon

oh boy am i excited for this one

okay so i know this is stereotypical but... cryo vision. honestly, having a geo vision would also be possible but remember that one time childe said something around the lines of the goddess of cryo having such a warm heart and she loved so much to the point it froze? yeah i think i’m basing him off the tsaritsa-

weapon would be a sword. i considered choosing a polearm for him but i think he’d want something slightly heavier that would get the job done, but not necessarily a claymore. do i think he has the capacity to use a claymore if he wanted to, though? sure why not

hello kaeya (or qiqi, if you’d wish)

okay okay this is where it gets fun... imagine sunghoon as a member of the fatui

mmm villain!sunghoon we love to see it

he’d honestly probably be on the road to becoming a harbinger? like, we see how he works very hard at ice skating and idol training, who’s to say that he won’t climb up the ranks real quick?

yes jakehoon brotp agenda is still on so they would be friends (though honestly their friendship is kinda uncanny)

when i thought of stuff to write for him i kinda think that he’d like liyue a lot; the tradition and order feel like home to him. this also fits lore because there’s more fatui appearances in liyue compared to mondstadt

also seems like the kind to wander around the city when things start to calm down for the day; if he’s not being tasked on a mission, he sometimes likes to head out to huaguang stone forest

sunoo

sunshine baby

okay i think he’d have an anemo vision (and this is not because he reminds me of venti). there was another theory that said that anemo vision-holders are hard workers who sometimes don’t give themselves enough rest, and sunoo seems to make the cut. he’s crazy hardworking at things he know he’s lacking at and strives to improve

i think he’d have a catalyst (yes!! we need male catalyst characters!!); i can see him absolutely fascinated by the way catalysts work like... “there’s no solid object engineering the attacks so... what is that? it seems so cool!” 

so yeah he’d be sucrose, hello

i also think he’d want to be a part of the adventurer’s guild! it keeps him busy plus he likes helping people :D

would then be introduced to jay (and possibly jake) when he’s assigned to do a commission with him. honestly he’d prefer doing commissions with others rather than doing them alone

has a hard time killing monsters because he finds them cute (especially slimes). i think he’d also empathize with hilichurls to a degree

i see him residing in mondstadt most of the time; he’d also like talking to the locals a lot (has a high rep because of this)

loves trying out local cuisine, some of his favorite dishes include sweet madame and zhongyuan chop suey!

ni-ki

oh i’m also kinda excited for his too

so i initially thought he’d have a pyro vision, but after some time i figured he’d have an electro vision instead. i think it’s this weird sentiment i feel that he’d protect his passions with his life (in this case, dancing; he’s literally inseparable from it), so there’s that

totally looks like the kind to have a polearm. he definitely would want something lightweight that he could lowkey flex with

sadly he doesn’t have a genshin character twin yet :(

would also not have any affiliation whatsoever; he just traverses the land like the free spirit he is

occasionally would tag along with some adventurer’s guild members, but doesn’t like the idea of people telling him what to do; he creates his own adventures instead

am i the only one here who thinks that he’d honestly run really fast here (hehe speedy boi)

he’d love dashing through mondstadt’s plains (particularly springvale), sometimes slashing monsters left and right (he likes liyue’s scenery but the terrain is way too mountainous for him)

one thing he does like about liyue though is playing with the kids in the harbor. he’d get them toys with the extra mora he receives when helping people (big brother ni-ki agenda hmm)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #yang jungwon #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen ni-ki #jay park #jake sim

[meltingheartsandcores]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Here)

...I’m starting to think I should put this on ao3 or something. 

Third installment of wwx raised by his parents but breaks into Cloud recess. I need a shorter name for this.

So, re:wwx’s Horsetail Whisk, it’s name is 雪焰, which is also CSSR’s courtesy name. However I don’t know chinese at all, so if the name itself is clunky or wrong, please tell me and I’ll do my best to fix it.

Now this is shorter than the last one, sorry, but, it’s just how it flowed. I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Copying rules was the most boring punishment Wei Wuxian has ever sat through. It’s probably the most boring punishment in the history of ever. Seriously, was the goal to bore him to death? 

Although, if that was the goal, Lan Qiren shouldn’t have sent his nephew to supervise. It’s an objective fact that Lan Wangji is attractive. He’s beautiful. Carved from Jade is the common remark. Wei Wuxian starts doodling aimlessly while he stares at Lan Wangji. 

“You should be writing.” Lan Wangji states without looking up from his reading. 

“But Er-gege, you’re so distracting. How can I work when you’re sitting there?” Wei Wuxian whines. 

“Pay attention to your copying.” Lan Wangji states. 

Wei Wuxian pouts, “But it’s boring.” 

“You’ve yet to make it through even one copy. You have three to make.” 

“I know. Doesn’t make it any less boring. What’s your swords name?” 

Lan Wangji is silent for a moment, before stating, “Bichen.” 

“...To avoid wordly matters?” Wei Wuxian asks, and when Lan Wangji nods he smiles, “Cool. Do you have a secondary weapon? When do Sect Cultivators get those? I got mine at nine but-“ 

“Yes.” Lan Wangji cuts in. 

“What is it? What’s its name?” Wei Wuxian asks eagerly. Lan Wangji eyes the paper and brush that Wei Wuxian had started ignoring. Wei Wuxian looks down and pouts, “If you tell me I won’t ask anymore questions, and I’ll start copying again.” 

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Wuxian for a moment before stating, “Guqin. Wangji.” 

Wei Wuxian blinks, ’Did he… name his Guqin after himself?’ He was tempted to ask, but he had promised not to ask anymore questions… so. Wei Wuxian pinks his brush back up and starts copying again, remaining silent for a while to figure out how to best say what he wanted to say without asking a single question. When he’s more or less figured it out, he smiles and opens his mouth, “Wangji’s a nice name. At least you named your Guqin after yourself.” No denial, so it was most likely true. Or Lan Wangji was done with him. “When my Grandmaster gave me a horsetail whisk, the only person I had seen use one was my mother, so, naturally at nine years old, I named it A-Niang.” Aha! Lan Wangji was not done with him. He was looking very unimpressed with Wei Wuxian, and it can’t be about the copying because he’s still doing it! “My dad thought it was hilarious and was very on board with me actually naming it Mama. But then the question came up of what would I call my mom. So then my Grandmaster suggested I call it Xueyan, my mom’s courtesy name no one used anymore.” Wei Wuxian smiles and shrugs, “At nine I still called it A-Niang sometimes. At fifteen I… actually still do. Sometimes. It’s a hard habit to break. Although I’m actually very surprised they didn’t let me call it A-Niang. They let me call my sword Suibian.” 

“Your sword should have a proper name.” Lan Wangji scolds. 

“Suibian is it’s proper name. It’s inscribed and everything. I think they only stopped me from calling it A-Niang because at nine I liked to talk to my sword and would do the same with Xueyan, which meant it got very confusing as to when I would be talking to my Mom or my Horsetail Whisk. It was obvious to me, still is, not so to everyone else apparently. I really only understood why it was a problem for everyone else when my Jiujiu threatened to call his Horsetail Whisk A-Ying and showed just how irritating it can be when you don’t know if someone is talking to you or their weapon.” Wei Wuxian snorts, thinking of Xingchen, “Jokes on him, he did it for a day til I understood and changed Xueyan’s name, but his Horsetail Whisk had grown very attached to the name so it refused to be called anything else. So now his whisk has the inscription of A-Ying as it’s name.” Xingchen didn’t use the right character for Wei Wuxian’s name, but still. He was walking around with a horsetail whisk named after his favourite Wai Sheng (-“You’re my only Wai Sheng.” “Which makes me the favourite! Unlike you who is one of many Jiujiu’s!”) 

Lan Wangji shakes his head, clearly disappointed in the chaos that was Wei Wuxian’s family. “Lan Wangji! Ji-gege! You’re disappointed, right?” Wei Wuxian asks, earning himself a glare from Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to explain, to express his happiness at being able to read Lan Wangji at least a little, and hopefully correctly, but it snaps shut of it’s own accord, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t get it to open again.

’Another silencing spell?! So mean!’ Wei Wuxian whines but turns his attention back to his copying. Maybe Lan Wangji will release it if Wei Wuxian behaves? 

Lan Wangji doesn’t release the silencing spell until Wei Wuxian is done copying for the day and they leave the library. Free, Wei Wuxian wanders around, walking any which way with Lan Wangji trailing after him. Supervising. 

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian calls, not loud enough to be considered shouting, and rushes over to the other boy, but not fast enough to be considered running.  

“First day of punishment over already?” Jiang Cheng asks, crossing his arms. 

Mmhmm. I was thinking of fish.” 

“Hunting animals is forbidden within Cloud Recess.” Wangji states. 

“Then I’ll find a river outside of Cloud Recess to fish in. Maybe I’ll invite Nie-Xiong.”

“You won’t be able to for a while. Last I heard he was whining because his assistant has to return to Qinghe.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Meng-Xiong?” Wei Wuxian didn’t try to stop himself from yelling, or from running away. Lan Wangji doesn’t follow him. 

It doesn’t take long for Wei Wuxian to find Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao. True to Jiang Cheng’s words, Nie Huaisang was not acting happy about Meng Yao’s depature, if Meng Yao’s face was anything to go by. Wei Wuxian rushes forward and hangs off of Huaisang’s back. 

“You’re leaving?” Wei Wuxian asks, half draped on Huaisang, who had wrapped an arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist in turn. 

“Nie-Zhongzhu only instructed me to stay for the Ceremony. I must return to Qinghe.” 

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang whine in sync. “Why?” 

Meng Yao seems politely amused, and Wei Wuxian continues, “I was going to invite you both fishing.” 

“We don’t have the stuff for fishing.” Nie-Xiong states. 

“Animals don’t need tools for fishing, neither do we. Can’t you stay for that Meng-Xiong?” 

Meng Yao shakes his head, “I’ve already stayed longer than I should. I really should get going.” 

“No. You should learn with us too!” 

Meng Yao shakes his head, “I am merely an assistant. Not even a disciple. The lectures would be lost on me.” 

Wei Wuxian and Nie-Xiong whine again, “You’re the only one who’ll actually listen to the lectures.” Wei Wuxian protests. Nie Huaisang waves his fan in agreement. 

“Right. Right. I almost fell asleep in the Ceremony today! We need you.” Huaisang whines. 

“Yeah, and we need someone to cause mischief with. Madame Yu will kill me if I drag Jiang Cheng into it.” Wei Wuxian adds, Huaisang nods rapidly in agreement. 

“Wei-gongzi, I’m not one for mischief.” 

“Liar.” Wei Wuxian could read people well enough to know Meng Yao has a strong mischievous bone in his body. “But that’s why we need you! No one will believe me and Huaisang actually get up to mischief with you around. Besides, you’re smart enough to come up with great plans.” 

“You barely know me, how can you know I’m smart?” 

“Because after your father refused to acknowledge you you went to the Nie clan, which prioritizes skill over bloodlines and has a leader who would gladly give that manwhore the finger.” Huaisang presses his closed fan to his lips, and Meng Yao seems very shocked at his words. It takes Wei Wuxian a moment to realize he just called Jin Guangshan a manwhore outloud. 

Oops? 

“Da ge probably would.” Huaisang says slowly, “But I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone call Jin-Zhongzhu that.” 

“You’ve never met my mom.” Wei Wuxian states dryly, then to Meng Yao, “You can’t just leave. I wanted to get to know you more.” 

“I am doing as Nie-Zhongzhu instructs.” Meng Yao states, unmoved. He’s definitely leaving. 

Wei Wuxian pouts, fine, if that’s what he wants. “Then I guess I’ll have to go with Nie-Xiong after the lectures are over to see you again at, uh, where do you live?” 

“The Unclean Realm.” 

“At the Unclean Realm. The Unclean Realm?” That didn’t even- oh whatever. “So I’ll visit you in a year Meng-Xiong.” 

Meng Yao sighs, but he’s smiling, and it’s not painfully fake so Wei Wuxian counts that as a win, “If that is what you wish, Wei-Xiong.” 

Wei Wuxian’s smile grows and he launches himself from Huaisang to engulf Meng Yao in a hug. Meng Yao seems surprised, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t let go until Meng Yao pats him on the back hesitantly and only when he’s sure Meng Yao isn’t going to return the hug. “Safe travels. Write. And I’ll save you from Huaisang.” 

“Save him from-“ Huaisang yelps when Wei Wuxian picks him up and takes him away from Meng Yao so the man could leave in peace. “No! Let me go! I need to stay with A-Yao!!!” Huaisang whines.

#My writing #ficlet #Lan Wangji #lwj #Wei Wuxian #wwx #Meng Yao #Nie Huaisang #NHS #au #chen qing ling #cql #the untamed #U kno Imma just call it what it is in my files #Sneaking AU #Also #WWX does not know lwj’s birth name at this time #no one has introduced themselves to wwx #He’s going off of public introductions and what he hears other people call them

[disastermages]

this is chapter 14 of the au where Xiao Xingchen raises Wei Wuxian

--

Xiao Xingchen didn't know what he expected. Part of him had known that his grandmaster would be accompanying them to Gusu, but he still hadn't fully grasped it by the time they were leaving the inn, the six of them walking with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan at the head of the group with A-Qing walking between them, and Baoshan Sanren bringing up the rear.

Another, smaller part of him had expected his grandmaster to take charge like she had on the rare and special occasions that she brought him and Cangse along on her shorter journeys down the mountain, her back straight and her shoulders square as she led them through towns, showing them how to pass through without calling attention to themselves. She’d shown them the signs of disturbances, too, stopping whenever the opportunity struck to let them see examples as close as she dared let them get.

He and Cangse had been competitive when it came to identifying whether something was a haunting or a possession or just a simple monster. Their guessing games kept going until Baoshan Sanren announced that she’d had enough of their arguing, but they’d always picked them back up the second she stopped listening.

He doesn’t realize that he’s smiling until he feels Song Lan bump their shoulders together, “Is  something funny?” The question comes quiet and soft, the smile on Song Lan’s face smaller than usual, though it still makes Xiao Xingchen’s breathing come easier.

“Just remembering something, that’s all.” Xiao Xingchen murmurs back, the tandem motion of the both of them swinging A-Qing over a mud puddle is muscle memory as she giggles. “My sister and I used to bicker whenever our grandmaster would take us off the mountain with her, it drove her to the point of using a silencing spell on us once.” Xiao Xingchen explains, his shoulders shaking slightly as Song Lan huffs out a laugh of his own, his smile starting to reach his eyes just a bit more.

The silencing spell incident had been one of their worst punishments, the two of them forced to follow along behind Baoshan Sanren silently until the spell lifted on its own. “Do you think she misses it? I think we could get A-Qing and A-Xian to bicker for a little while.” Song Lan teases and Xiao Xingchen snorts before he can stop himself, nearly dropping the horsetail whisk as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth.

“She might use the silencing spell on all of us if you aren’t careful.” Xiao Xingchen warns. Normally, Lan Wangji would’ve been exempt from any possible use of the silencing spell, but Xiao Xingchen had seen Baoshan Sanren pull him aside before they’d left this morning, her hands behind her back and her face strict. No matter how hard he tried, Xiao Xingchen hadn’t been able to make out what she was saying to him, though he’d seen Lan Wangji nod a few times.

He’d offered him a small, sympathetic smile when he and Baoshan Sanren had finished speaking, and if Lan Wangji had relaxed minutely, Xiao Xingchen didn’t call him out for it.

Silence never falls over them completely as they walk, Wei Ying’s chattering turning into comfortable background noise as he and Lan Wangji talk to each other and Xiao Xingchen tunes most of the conversation out, only stopping once to lift A-Qing onto his hip when she begins to look drowsy, Song Lan’s hand stroking over the back of her head softly as she buries her face in her father’s neck.

They’d woken up with her in their bed, wriggled in between the two of them, though neither of them could remember letting her in the night before, but the only thing they’d been able to do was smile at each other as they took turns trying to rouse her from her sleep.

It had felt suspiciously normal, and it still did, so normal that Xiao Xingchen can feel the change in the air on his skin, prickling like static and sending Shuanghua into a low hum in the back of his head. His grip on A-Qing tightens on instinct, his eyes squinting as he looks around them, Song Lan’s hand grabbing onto his sleeve as he does the same, bringing their group to a standstill on the road despite neither of them being able to identify any immediate threat.

“Uncle Xiao?” Wei Ying calls, and Xiao Xingchen turns his head towards his voice slightly, unable to turn his head completely, though he sees it out of the corner of his eye, the smile dropping further off his face as he begins to pry A-Qing away from his neck.

A group of fierce corpses were staggering towards them, their clothes ragged and their hair hanging in loose, messy strands around their faces. They’d gotten used to running into them over the last few weeks, following trails of them to see where Xue Yang had been and trying to guess where he was going, though usually, there were only one or two instead of the group of six or seven dragging their way towards them.

He doesn’t have to tell A-Qing to find a place to hide, though he still makes a point to stroke her cheek before he sends her off, watching as she ducks behind the trunk of one of the trees that line the road, smiling tightly and nodding as she peeks out from around it.

They find their positions, Song Lan pressing against his shoulder and Lan Wangji pressing against Wei Ying’s, Baoshan Sanren falling into step easily beside them, calling her sword out of her own qiankun pouch, though she doesn’t unsheathe it yet. Her eyes are hard, but the rest of her remains relaxed as she plants her feet.

“Corpses usually don’t group together like this,” Wei Ying points out, his voice low as they allow the corpses to come closer, their hands having long since turned into claws reaching out and pawing at them even though they were still a few yards away. “Do you think Xue Yang’s been through here?”

“It’s possible,” Song Lan answers, the frown on his face deepening at the thought, “unless he’s learned how to expand the range of the Yin Iron.” That still wouldn’t explain the sudden grouping, though Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say it, his own face going still as he draws Shuanghua out. Fierce corpses usually bumbled around on their own, wandering aimlessly until they stumbled over a living person, or worse, an entire family of living people.

“A-Ying,” Xiao Xingchen says, hearing his nephew draw Suibian without seeing it, “Uncle Song and I are going to try and scatter the group, can you and Lan Wangji handle the stragglers?” The corpses wouldn’t truly be dangerous unless he and Song Lan ended up surrounded on all sides, but the four of them had taken down enough of them to have a system worked out by now. “Grandmaster, could you-”

“I’ll go where I’m needed, Xingchen.” Baoshan Sanren decides, her face betraying nothing as she draws her own sword out, the blade shining as though it were brand new.

Without another word, Xiao Xingchen nods and he and Song Lan move forward, Fuxue and Shanghua moving in tandem with each other as the two of them work through the crowd, cutting down two of the corpses as they carve a path right down the middle of the corpses, splitting it in half and only barely seeing it as Wei Ying and Lan Wangji take on one half while Baoshan flits through and cuts down the other half on her own. The expression on her face borders on annoyance, rather than an actual challenge as her blade cuts through another corpse, sending it crumpling to the ground.

Spinning around, Xiao Xingchen catches one of the corpse’s arms as it reaches towards Song Lan, his free hand finding his husband as Shuanghua stabs through the corpse before he kicks it away. He doesn’t register that Song Lan has blocked another corpse from making contact with Xiao Xingchen until he’s forced to turn around again, Fuxue sending it sprawling backwards. It trips over a stone hidden in the grass and doesn’t get back up again as Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan press their backs together for just a moment before they both push forward, cutting down the rest of the corpses until none of them make an attempt to rise again, cracks over their flesh healing before their eyes.

Xiao Xingchen opens his mouth to speak, but before anything can come out, A-Qing is crashing into him and calling out for Song Lan and himself, her fingers winding tight into his robes as she looks behind her. “A-Qing?” Xiao Xingchen says, kneeling down quickly and then frowning again as two more corpses come stumbling out of the woods, their movements somehow clumsier than their predecessors.

“They’re acting as though they’ve been dead longer than the other ones.” Wei Ying points out, coming to stand beside his uncle, but holding out his hand for A-Qing and nudging her behind him when she takes it without a second thought. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t stop himself from moving to stand in front of the both of them as he stares ahead.

There were visible signs of decay on these corpses, their movements stiffer and parts of them beginning to wear and break away from the rest of their bodies. How long had these corpses wandered? How long ago were they risen from the dead to torment those who had probably been their neighbors? Xiao Xingchen is almost certain that he doesn’t want to hear the answer as he holds Shuanghua up in a defensive position. Fierce corpses usually didn’t reach this stage in their lifespan, they were usually cut down a few moments after they were risen, or they fell limp to the ground like puppets who’s strings had all been cut.

He means to let the corpses come to him before he takes Shuanghua to them, but Baoshan Sanren appears in front of them first, her blade slicing through both of the corpses cleanly and easily, their shrieks cutting off as the last of the forced life leaves them completely.

None of them move for a long moment, all six of them waiting to see if anymore corpses would come stumbling out after them, but when nothing comes and the static feeling on Xiao Xingchen’s skin fades, he turns and kneels down again and opens his arms for A-Qing, checking her for injuries as he rises.

“Not a scratch on her.” Baoshan Sanren says, her voice almost proud as she comes to stand over Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder. “A-Qing, it’s very important for a rogue cultivator to know when to ask for help, do you understand that?” Baoshan Sanren asks, her tone lapping into something that almost makes Xiao Xingchen’s shoulders relax with the familiarity of it.

“A-Die and Baba told me that before,” A-Qing answers, nodding her head seriously, “only Xian-gege forgets to ask sometimes.” Wei Ying makes a scandalized noise at that, reaching over and poking at his sister’s cheek despite the look Xiao Xingchen gives him.

At his side, Xiao Xingchen hears Song Lan snort, his fist covering up the smile on his face, though Xiao Xingchen makes no attempt to hide his own, shaking his head as he bumps A-Qing further up onto his hip.

A-Qing and Wei Ying didn’t even need their nudging to start bickering and teasing each other, but Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan had both known that.

~

The fire is burning low in front of her, but Baoshan Sanren only barely makes a move to stoke the flames, the sun would be coming up soon, and they would be moving on as quickly as they could, there’d be no point in keeping a fire going only to put it out again.

She’d sworn she’d never go back to Gusu, she’d told herself that she would never set foot in Cloud Recesses again, but she’d also promised herself that she would never forgive Lan Yi, hadn’t she? It had been the first of the promises she’d made to herself that she’d broken, her eyes suddenly feeling heavy as she stares into the embers. She doesn’t notice Wei Wuxian until he’s almost standing next to her, a twig cracking underneath his foot and drawing Baoshan Sanren out of her thoughts before she can follow the spiral any further.

“You’ve either stayed up far too late, or you’ve woken up very early, A-Xian.” She sighs, sitting up straighter as he watches her from a few feet away.

“A-Qing woke me up, she talks in her sleep sometimes.” Wei Wuxian says, the smile on his face doing absolutely nothing to cover up the lie he was telling.

It’s almost refreshing, he doesn’t look that much like Cangse when he tries to tell a lie. He might look like his father, but Baoshan Sanren couldn’t say that with any sort of confidence, she’d never met the man, it wasn’t her place to wonder what he might’ve looked like when he was telling a lie. “Are you going to stand there and watch me until sunrise, or are you going to ask me whatever question that’s brought you here?” She throws another handful of kindling onto the fire as she speaks, letting it catch and bring the fire back to life before she throws a few more sticks in.

Wei Wuxian takes it as an invitation to sit himself right next to her, tanned skin and dark eyes seeming to glow in the firelight. “Uncle Xiao told me that talking about Lan Yi was forbidden on the mountain.” Wei Wuxian starts, looking nervous, even as his grandmaster pokes at the fire in front of them. She wants to laugh, what did he expect her to do? Push the same rule onto him?

“We aren’t on the mountain,” Baoshan Sanren reminds him plainly, but then she stops, “but if we were, I might have you carry water down from the stream for the next week.” She means to tease him, and she hopes that it shows on her face. It had been one of Cangse’s least favorite chores, and maybe one day, she would tell Wei Wuxian that.

Whether or not he knows he’s being teased, Wei Wuxian still laughs and leans back on his hands, the smile on his face making some of the sternness she’d forced on her own to drop away. “I guess I just wanted to ask you why? Uncle Xiao said that you loved each other.”

“We did.” Baoshan Sanren answers and it feels too much like a confession, perfect posture relaxing as she closes her eyes for just a moment. “You and your Lan Wangji remind me of the two of us, in bits and pieces.” She hadn’t intended on telling him that, but the words are coming faster than she can stop them. “He seems dedicated to you, and you light up when you look at him.” When she looks over, her grandson is smiling to himself, his own hands on his knees, his fingers tapping against them restlessly.

“I didn’t expect her to notice me, my clan was the smallest one attending the lecture that year.” Baoshan Sanren laughs, shaking her head at the memory. She’d been enthralled with Lan Yi, from the way she wore her hair, to the cut of her robes around her body, to the way her hand held her sword.

“How did she notice you?”

“I sprained her cousin’s wrist while I was sparring with him. I didn’t always know my own strength back then, A-Xian.” Baoshan Sanren grins with the admission and they both laugh, “The boy’s father, her uncle, wanted me expelled from Cloud Recesses right then, but Lan Yi defended me, she told her father the truth about the sparring session and that I hadn’t done it on purpose.”

The memory comes back, shiny and new as though it had only happened a few days ago. Lan Yi had wedged herself between Baoshan Sanren and her uncle, her face furious. Baoshan Sanren might’ve loved her then, too. “I thought I had made things worse for her, her father had no sons and he’d already refused to name his brother’s son the sect heir, but she insisted on sitting with me while I had to copy all 1,500 of the Lan sect rules 600 times.”

Wei Wuxian’s face falls then, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowns, “There are 3,500 Lan sect rules, though.” For the first time in a long while, Baoshan Sanren laughs, her shoulders shaking and a smile pulling across her face as she looks away from him.

“There are things Lan Yi and I did that you’re too young to hear about.” She might tell him one day, though. She might tell him about the time she’d shared the wine she’d brought from home with Lan Yi and the two of them had ended up in a brothel in Caiyi Town wearing nothing but their under robes and shoes. Or about the time she’d nearly fallen off the cliffs near the waterfall, only because Lan Yi had kissed her suddenly and the tree they were leaning against had given under their combined weight.

“Your mother might’ve added onto the rules too, you know, I heard that she passed through Cloud Recesses at one point.” It wasn’t the complete truth, she’d heard the tale about her daughter shaving a main family member’s beard off, and a few more about her sending unwanted suitors packing with little warning besides her sword slid between their legs.

The smile comes back to Wei Wuxian’s face then, a touch more mischievous when he looks at her, “That’s what Uncle Song said, but Grandmaster Lan wouldn’t give me an answer when I asked him.”

“A serial rule breaker? In their upstanding lecture? A-Xian you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting such a thing.” Baoshan Sanren teases, trying to pretend to lecture him, though she can’t keep a straight face, even if she tried.

The sky begins to turn pink and Baoshan Sanren sits back, looking just over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “I wish you and Lan Wangji better luck than Lan Yi and I had.” Baoshan Sanren says seriously, her eyes focused on the figure in bright blue as Lan Wangji emerges from his tent. “I think you may already have it.” She couldn’t be jealous of them, she wouldn’t, they’d managed to stay by each other’s sides this long, she was proud of them. Lan Wangji hadn’t even looked afraid when she’d pulled him to the side and made her expectations of him clear.

“She talked about you when I fell into her cave with Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says quickly, and Baoshan Sanren looks up at him with wide eyes, something in her chest already twisting, “she sounded like she missed you.” She wants to laugh again, he’s trying to comfort her in the same, well meaning, but clumsy way she’d seen him comfort A-Qing, the smile on her face turning rueful as she nods.

“She might.” She agrees, blinking the feeling away, “She might also know that I’m coming to tell her “I told you so” a hundred years after the fact.”

The last time Baoshan Sanren had been in Cloud Recesses, she’d been escorted to the gate by Lan Yi’s mother and a handful of senior disciples and ordered to never return. Lan Yi’s mother had blamed her for what had happened, and Baoshan Sanren had allowed it, rather than letting the woman blame herself or Lan Yi for it.

They still had another day’s travel before they reached the gates of Cloud Recesses, and Lan Yi’s mother could no longer bar her from entering, and Baoshan Sanren isn’t sure if she wishes she were able to or not.

~

Lan Wangji moves to the front of the group as they draw closer to Cloud Recesses, holding onto Wei Ying’s hand until he walks too far for either of them to keep it up, though when he does glance back at him, Lan Wangji gets a smile in return, his throat feeling suddenly thicker as they climb the steps.

He’d hoped they would have longer together before he would have to return, but they’d had two months without the watchful eyes of his uncle on them. Wei Ying’s uncles had allowed them to be alone together, something his uncle wouldn’t have even considered once he knew the extent of their involvement.

“Lan Zhan, are you alright?” Wei Ying’s voice is a whisper, sounding as though he were standing beside him, rather than walking between his grandmaster and younger sister behind him, though, when Lan Wangji turns his head slightly, he can see one of Wei Ying’s papermen perched on his shoulder, holding onto the strand of his forehead ribbon to stay in place.

If they’d been walking alone together, Lan Wangji might’ve taken the paperman into his hand, it would’ve been more stable, but for now, Lan Wangji can only sneak another look over his shoulder. “Fine,” he thinks in answer, eyes flicking to his shoulder again, if he wasn’t careful, Wei Ying’s paperman would wind its way into his hair again, “only wish we had more time together.”

“This isn’t goodbye, Lan Zhan, we still have to find Xue Yang and bring him back to Qishan.” Wei Ying reminds him, the paperman pulling at his ribbon impatiently now, the same way Wei Ying did when no one was looking at them, the silk wound between his fingers while they both pretended they didn’t know the meaning of what he was doing.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji answers out loud, inclining his head as they reach the top of the stairs and the two disciples guarding the gates bow to him quickly, his uncle and brother appearing at the other side of the gate as though they’d been summoned. Lan Wangji bows to both of them, ignoring the smile on his brother’s face when he rights himself. He has no intention of answering Xichen’s questions until they were locked away in the Hanshi, away from the possibility of their uncle’s lecture.

The six of them are admitted into Cloud Recesses quickly, his uncle’s mouth falling open when Baoshan Sanren is introduced, and Lan Wangji swears for a moment, he pales, though he says nothing about it. His uncle recovers quickly enough anyway, bowing deeply to her and Baoshan Sanren returns it, thanking Lan Qiren for hosting not only one, but two of her disciples in the past.

There’s a look of mischief that Lan Wangji recognizes all too quickly.

“You didn’t think to write to us about this?” Xichen teases, leaning into Lan Wangji’s space and Lan Wangji only blinks.

“Grandmaster Baoshan only joined us a week and a half ago, haven’t had time.” He says simply and his brother gives him a look before he smiles again, a chuckle coming from deep in his chest.

“I’ve missed you, Wangji, Uncle has too.” Lan Wangji knows his brother is speaking honestly, but all he can do is nod, glancing up to where his uncle is speaking with both of Wei Ying’s, their faces serious. “How is Young Master Wei?”

“Wei Ying is Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji answers proudly, turning to face his brother and almost buckling under the weight of his smile. He wouldn’t be able to escape without answering questions now.

Xichen doesn’t get the chance to ask any of his questions though, after a few more moments of talking, they’re all moving again, setting out towards the backhill, and Lan Wangji takes the chance to walk beside Wei Ying, his brother falling in step behind them after they leave Qing Sanren in the care of a senior disciple.

“A great bit of research has gone into understanding Ancestor Yi’s condition,” Xichen announces, walking to the front of their group and taking on the duty of disrupting the ward hiding the entrance of Lan Yi’s cave long enough for all of them to walk through single file, the paths below them still just as slick and icy as Lan Wangji remembered them to be. One hand goes to hold onto the cave wall and the other wraps around Wei Ying’s wrist, genuinely hoping to steady him in case he slipped.

The caves would have been difficult for Qing Sanren to navigate, as it stood, the paths were most likely never intended to hold all of them at once, stray rocks and icicles giving way as they make their way down. “We’ve found that speaking with her more frequently aids in keeping her tethered to this world, though, we haven’t found a way to reverse the effects of the Yin Iron quite yet.”

A guqin can be heard as they begin the last level of their descent, a chill settling through all five layers of Lan Wangji’s robes, his eyes lifting to the front of the group just in time to see Baoshan Sanren’s shoulders draw together tightly, her step faltering for just a moment, but not long enough to allow Wei Ying’s Uncle Xiao to run into her back.

Lan Wangji can only throw a quick, backwards glance to Wei Ying then, his hand tightening around his wrist as they press forward.

~

“Lan Yi.” Baoshan Sanren sighs to herself, her hands hanging limp at her sides as she watches Lan Yi’s fingers move over the strings of the guqin, a rabbit perched on either side of her and nibbling at her robes.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t believed them, because she did, she wanted to, she’d wanted Lan Yi to be alive, but she’d been preparing for the worst. She’d been prepared to come down and find that the Yin Iron had eaten away at the last of her spiritual cognition.

Baoshan Sanren almost doesn’t feel the water seeping into her robes and boots as she takes a step into the pool. It should chill her to the bone, but she doesn’t feel it. She doesn’t feel anything until her splashing breaks Lan Yi’s concentration and she looks up, her hands still frozen in place over the strings of the guqin.

“A-Shan?” Lan Yi calls, looking as though she were the one seeing a ghost standing right in front of her. “A-Shan, are you here? Or have I fallen asleep again?”

“I’m here.” Baoshan Sanren answers too quickly, stopping in the middle of the pool as Lan Yi stands, gathering her robes in her hands and Baoshan Sanren’s heart stops. Those were the robes she’d worn into the cave the night it had happened, the bright cerulean had burned itself into Baoshan Sanren’s memory through the years. She hadn’t weighed the possibility of Lan Yi being trapped in those robes for the rest of her existence. “How have you been?” She hears herself ask, instead of saying anything useful, watching as the water just barely ripples as Lan Yi walks through it, though the chill doesn’t seem to touch her.

“I should be asking you that question.” Lan Yi laughs, though it sounds like a sob, “You’re the one who’s been wandering and taking disciples while I’ve been sitting in a cave.” There’s only a few inches left between them now, close enough that Baoshan Sanren could set her hand on Lan Yi’s hip and feel her underneath her hand if she allowed herself.

“My disciples are why I’m here.” Baoshan Sanren answers honestly, cold shooting up her arm and into her shoulder as Lan Yi’s hand wraps around her wrist, and Baoshan Sanren glances back, shaking her head as she watches Wei Wuxian wave awkwardly at the both of them, standing entirely too close to Lan Wangji for an unmarried couple in front of their families.

“I have to destroy the Yin Iron, A-Yi.” Baoshan Sanren says carefully, swallowing thickly when Lan Yi looks back at her, her eyes wide and her hand tightening around her wrist.

“You can’t.” She decides, shaking her head as a frown replaces the smile that had been on her face too quickly. “You can see what happened to me, A-Shan, the both of us can’t be trapped here.”

Baoshan Sanren is the one to reach for her now, shaking off the hand Lan Yi had wrapped around her wrist and putting both of hers on Lan Yi’s shoulders. “I’ve already done it once, A-Yi, I can do it again.”

“It’s true!” Wei Ying interrupts, his voice too loud against the cave walls as he steps away from Lan Wangji, though he doesn’t step into the water with them. “Grandmaster crushed one piece in her hand, she’s had time to recover without any side effects.”

Looking between the two of them, Lan Yi doesn’t look any more convinced than she had just a moment ago, clasping her hands in front of her instead of reaching up to touch Baoshan Sanren again. “I’m tethered to it, Baoshan, can you let me go in the same breath you’ll use to destroy it?” She isn’t asking to be cruel, Baoshan Sanren knows that, but it still sends an ice cold hand down her throat to grasp at her heart.

“There’s nothing else here that you can tether yourself to?” Baoshan Sanren asks, her eyes scanning through the cave, and only finding the guqin and the Yin Iron. She’d hoped to see Lan Yi’s sword somewhere in the cave, maybe buried in the ice, but the longer she thinks the more clearly she remembers seeing it carried out by senior disciples and handed over to Lan Yi’s mother as she wept.

Baoshan Sanren’s hands had been slapped away the second she’d reached to touch it.

“My guqin cannot hold my spirit, I’ve tried.” Lan Yi smiles sadly, her eyes looking wet when Baoshan Sanren manages to catch sight of them again. “Whatever holds my spirit must have some sort of importance, it can’t be something simply picked up off the ground, I’ve learned that much while I’ve been here.”

Stubborn silence fills the cave, and Baoshan notices for the first time that Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren had eased out of the cave some time ago, leaving the six of them to plan and agonize on their own. Baoshan Sanren almost envies them, being able to leave under the guise of giving them privacy.

“I have this,” Wei Wuxian offers, his voice much quieter as he pulls something out of his robes, a jade pendant held tightly in his hand, and Baoshan Sanren’s eyes flick back up to Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan gave it to me before I left with Uncle Xiao and Uncle Song.” The two of them come closer to the edge of the pool then, and Wei Wuxian tosses the pendant to Baoshan Sanren, the catch made easy as Lan Yi’s hand finds hers again.

Looking at the piece of jade in her hand, Baoshan Sanren wonders if this had been the only thing Lan Wangji had given her grandson that day.

“Lan Yi? Will this be enough?” Baoshan Sanren holds the pendant out to her, watching as Lan Yi drags her fingers over the carving, her fingers twitching around her own.

“I believe so,” Lan Yi breathes, looking up at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji as though she expected the offer to be rescinded as quickly as it had come. “Young Master Wei is truly alright with this?” She asks, and Wei Wuxian smiles at the both of them.

“I can break down the ward if I need to get back in.” He says and Lan Wangji gives him a look that she swears she’s only given Lan Yi before.

Lan Yi takes the pendant into her own hand then, pressing it to her chest and squeezing her hand tightly. “A-Shan?” Lan Yi asks, leaving most of the question unsaid, and Baoshan Sanren allows herself to smile and nod.

Neither of them get another word out before the earth above them shakes, shouts echoing down to the lowest level of the cavern, and Xiao Xingchen, Song Zichen, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji all move back towards the path they’d walked down.

“Xingchen?” Baoshan Sanren calls, the softness in her voice dropping away into the usual sternness she’d worked hard to keep.

“This is what it sounded like the last time we were under attack.” Lan Yi announces, her eyes staring up at the cave ceiling, as though she could see through it, distantly, they can hear voices calling out names, and Baoshan Sanren watches as the four of them make a move towards the entrance of the cave.

“Sect Leader Wen was correct,” Xiao Xingchen says, turning his head and looking at Lan Wangji, “Xue Yang has returned to Cloud Recesses.”

#the untamed #mdzs #mdzs fic #wangxian #songxiao #xiao xingchen #wei wuxian #song zichen #lan wangji #wei ying #lan zhan #song lan #baoshan sanren #a-qing #lan yi #as usual the ao3 link and links to the other parts will be in the reblog to my main #in light of recent events ive decided to use ao3 until a better alternative is found and when it is i will hop myself over there and move my #fics and stuff over there but until then ill keep using it and ill keep spreading awareness and pushing back against that specific policy

[gladiators-intoxication]

Msc. Thoughts because Genshin worldbuilding is fantastic

Parts two and three of In Search Of Justice are in the works, I promise.

Not organized enough to be called theories, erm, but they’re not exactly headcanons.

Warnings: Spoilers, mostly. Also angst. I’m incapable of writing anything that isn’t angst sorry.

Sections: Species (Adepti, Xiao), The Knights (Diluc, the Knights, some speculation about corruption within the order), Religion (some random details that I thought were cool)

Species, concerning Adepti, specifically my singular non-simping thought on Xiao.

“Adeptus” seems to be more of a trait than a species. Zhongli is a god, so presumably that should be his species. Ganyu is half-Adeptus by blood, which does complicate things by implying that Adeptus is a race, but how do you explain Xiao. I know the “painkillers” bit was a mistranslation, but HP drain. Something something adeptus energy is bad for humans, so what if Xiao is (or was, depending) human. Ganyu is half-human, which honestly I don’t want to get into, but she was born that way, so she’s either specially adapted to handle it, or she’s used to it. Small theory that Xiao became an Adeptus, and that the Adeptus trait is hard on his body, since he is/was human. Side note, Zhongli calls Xiao “that young Adeptus” which, admittedly doesn’t mean much because Zhongli is canonically the oldest of the Seven, but it also implies that Xiao is a fairly new addition (even though there’s a lot of fanwork of him interacting with Guizhong, I don’t know, man Xiao angst).

Diluc’s attitude about the Knights, combined with a thought on corruption in the Order

On the one hand, he’s justified, to a point. It pains me to admit it, but it’s the truth. They treated Crepus’ death like it was nothing. To his face. Admittedly, going rogue and actively undermining the Knights is overreacting, I think. But!! Here’s where the corruption bit comes in. Diluc was the youngest captain in the Ordo Favonius history. By the time he’d left at age eighteen, he’d been a captain for four years (which, hm. Really makes you wonder about the age restrictions on the Knights but okay I guess). One of Kaeya’s voicelines mentions there are ten captains total, which makes being one presumably an honor. I’m not sure how big the Ordo Favonius is, especially since Varka’s been away with many of them, so take that with a grain of salt (I’ll get back to Diluc in a sec, just wait a minute). But the Knights of Favonius serve as Mondstadt’s military, law enforcement, and their governing body (which, sidenote, makes Mondstadt a military dictatorship, depending on how exactly the Knights run the city) alongside the Church. However, based on Rosaria’s attitude, the Church doesn’t wield much political power. They’re influential by sheer virtue of being the Church. A military dictatorship opens a lot of opportunities for corruption. My thought was, while Crepus’ death, and the Knights’ reaction to it, was ultimately what drove Diluc out of the Knights, I think that maybe there was more to it than that. As something of a sidenote, Varka left Jean in charge. I’m not entirely sure if that’s because Jean’s rank out of what was left of the Knights in Mondstadt was optimal or because he trusted her personally. I just thought it was interesting how she, while very capable on her own, doesn’t seem to be any sort of second in command. She doesn’t hold any other titles (that I know of, correct me if I’m wrong) besides The Dandelion Knight and Acting Grandmaster. I might also be wrong. Dandelion Knight may actually be a position of power and title created in reference to Venessa.

Religion in Genshin

Kind of piggybacking off my thoughts on Mondstadt’s government, religion in the Genshin universe is interesting. Mondstadt is the only (known) region with a real religious structure among humans. It’s modeled (loosely) off of the Catholic Church, if I’m not mistaken. The Hilichurls also seem to have an organized religion completely independent from humans’. Shamanachurls (Shamanchurls?) can manipulate the elements without the aid of Visions, which is interesting. Liyue seems to regard religion (if their form of it can even be called that anymore) as more of a tradition than anything. The only significant ties they have with Rex Lapis outside his administrative duties seems to be the Rite of Descension, which locals don’t usually attend anyway. Not really sure where I was going with this but I thought it was cool.

#genshin impact #genshin #diluc #jean #wordbuilding #Yuki's brainrot #rex lapis #xiao #ganyu #i just have way too much genshin brainrot

[luna-loner]

Kanzaki Yukiko Character Analysis

So yesterday, I saw @nuggxxt's post asking if anyone's done an analysis on their favorite characters. I've done one myself for Kanzaki, but never actually wrote it here. Then, I had a dream that I made an analysis here....guess that means subconsciously, I want to share my analysis. (Plus more Kanzaki content, yay!) 

Okay, I'll make that dream come true.

Note: Very long post. (Because once I start talking about best girl, I can’t seem to stop)

Kanzaki Yukiko

Words fail to express how much I love this girl,so I’ll settle with a simple *chef’s kiss*

What’s intriguing is that in Episode 7, we actually get two Kanzakis:

When we first got to meet Yukiko, we met the graceful and elegant class idol who has most boys fawning over her. A very kind and seemingly perfect girl.

But later in the episode, we see another, contrasting side: A rebellious gamer girl, albeit, in flashbacks only. Here, we realize that there’s more to Yukiko than meets the idea.

So the question on my mind was: Who’s the real Kanzaki Yukiko?

It was just one question that got me breaking down her character, scavenging for the tiniest of details, all just to get to know this girl.

Background:

Yukiko comes from a conservative and high class family. She had a strict upbringing coupled with countless expectations from her lawyer father. 

We should note the kind of relationships she shares with her family members. Her older brother is kind to her, her grandmother was the one who introduced her to video games, and relationship with her mother is unknown. (In fact, barely anything is mentioned about her mother other than the fact she works at her husband’s law firm). 

So really, she only has a terrible relationship with her father.

At some point in her life, Yukiko’s grandmother fell ill and Yukiko was the one who tended to her until the end, and because of the grateful look she received from her, Yukiko became aspired to be nurse for the elderly.

However, her father had other plans for her. He wanted her to excel at school and earn a prestigious title. He actually wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. And since frivolity was frowned upon in their society, she had to hide her gamer side as it wasn’t suitable for a girl of her status. 

In her second year, she was unable to handle the pressure anymore. She wanted to run away from it all and be her own person, so what does she do?

She changes her appearance and frequently visits arcades with complete disregard for her studies. That eventually landed her in E Class, and Yukiko does regret her actions, and rightfully so because, while reason for her rebellion is understandable, neglecting your studies is irresponsible. 

Generally, Yukiko is responsible, and a good example of that would be when she tended to her sick grandmother (presumably by herself). However, at the end of the day, she’s still young and bound to make mistakes. Ryuki mentioned that the photo he had of Yukiko is from last summer, meaning Yukiko was still 13 at the time (She was born in March, making her  one of the youngest in class).

After landing in E Class, she starts attending to her studies again and although she and rest of her class fail to reach the top 50 in the first trimester midterms, she is ranked 85th place, which is actually a good grade and would place her in C Class. (Each main campus class has 40 students, so the first 120 students are A, B, and C Class combined)

Also, she is among the best 5 in class on the girls’ side, right after Kataoka. Kayano and Korosensei mentioned how she is diligent and that’s demonstrated when puts together an itinerary all by herself and researches Gion.   

As she narrates her story to Kayano, we see the regret painted all over her face. At this point, she’s lost all hope, even saying she doesn’t know where she belongs anymore.

“Be they in a clear stream or a muddy river, the fish who swim forward turn out the finest.” (Note: This is the actual quote from the sub)

Korosensei’s words were what Yukiko needed to break away from her guilt and depression. They made her realize that it doesn’t matter what happened in the past; what’s important is to keep on moving forward, and that’s exactly what she does later on in the series. 

Post-Kyoto

For most part, Post-Kyoto Kanzaki remains the same, expect for a few things.

For starters, she is much more confident in herself and no longer cares what others think. She also gains the confidence to stand up to her father by flipping him off and stating she will become a nurse rather than a lawyer. 

Her gamer side becomes public knowledge to the class. First, we see her happily playing in front of her friends in Episode 8. Next, Takebayashi gives her the code name “Mistress/Grandmaster Kanzaki” (Which according to @ansatsu-database​, is a reference to the famous gamer, Toshiyuki Takahashi.) Also, during the Civil War, Chiba remarks how she is a champion in an online war game. 

So, yeah, Yukiko grows much more comfortable in her own skin. We also see her grow stronger as demonstrated when she stood up to Takaoka even though she had seen how violent he truly is. We also saw how deadly she can be such as when she elegantly held up a pencil to Ren’s eye, and in both scenarios, she does it with an elegant smile.

My own thoughts:

Okay we are no longer in canon territory. Here, I’ll be talking about some of my theories and interpretations:

The first is Yukiko’s fashion style. When I first saw her gamer look, it made me wonder which kind of clothes is Yukiko truly comfortable in.

Looking back, that was a stupid question because the goddamn answer was in the roll book!

Irina notes how Yukiko is conscious about dressing up modestly and her tights are an essential part of her attire, be it her school uniform (Both winter and summer) or her street clothes.

Heck, in the first episode of season 2, Rio tells Irina if she wants to attract Karasuma, she needs to more “neatly dressed” just like Yukiko. 

So, why would she dress drastically different from her usual, neat style?

Here’s my theory, and it has to do with her line “I don’t know where I belong anymore”

Gamer girls have it rough. Everyone has their own idea of how a gamer girl “should be like”...how they should act...how they should look like....and if a girl doesn’t mean this criteria, then she’s simply not a  “real” gamer.

Yukiko, with her girly style and elegant demeanor would be considered the furthest thing from a “real” gamer. She probably felt the need to change her appearance (Maybe her personality as well, given that uncharacteristically hard look we saw on Ryuki’s phone) o fit into the gaming community. Plus, she wanted to run away from her prestigious lifestyle so by dressing differently, it was like she was separating herself from her family.  

Remember, Yukiko does mature after Kyoto, and she becomes more assertive (Even if it’s not shown that much), if she can flip off her strict father and no longer care about how others view her, then she can dress in whatever style she wants.

But she doesn’t, she still dresses elegantly and modestly. In fact, she doesn’t even bother changing her style anymore when she hits the arcades:

She no longer feels the need to fit others’ idea of what a gamer girl should be. She’s a gamer girl no matter how she acts or dresses, and if someone’s got a problem with that....well, they can always step in ring against her.

Honestly, I feel like there’s a tendency to understatement her due to her soft, gentle appearance. I imagine she likes this since this gives her the element of surprise. Remember the Civil War? No one expected her of all people to score three kills, even being the first on Blue team to do so.

In the roll book, Karma feels like Yukiko is very confident in her gaming prowess, to the point, she feels like she’s better than everyone else. I’m not sure if it’s just Karma, or if Yukiko really is that confident (Maybe to the point of being consider arrogant?), but I think the latter is possible. Maybe she got a little too confident?

Conclusion:

Between the elegant class idol and the rebellious gamer girl, I feel like Kanzaki Yukiko is somewhere in between, though she seems to lean more towards the former.

She is the sweet girl we met early in Episode 7, but by no means does that make her weak. She’s mostly quiet, but can stand up to herself. She’s kind and compassionate, but can be deadly when she wants to be. But most importantly, she’s confident in herself and doesn’t care what others think.  

***

Honestly, I feel like I got carried away, but it can’t be helped, I just love this girl to death <3

Also, this is actually my first time doing a character analysis, so...I’m not sure if everything I mentioned was necessary. There were more things I wanted to talk about, but I wasn’t sure how relevant they are. Maybe it’s probably a good thing I didn’t put them because this is by far, the longest post I’ve ever written.

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #kanzaki yukiko #yukiko kanzaki