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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.

NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?

Of Few Words - ao3

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”

Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.

He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.

“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”

Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…

Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.

Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.

Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.

Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.

“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.

At last, he spoke again: “I did.”

Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.

Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.

“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.

Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.

It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.

It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.

So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.

He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.

Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.

It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.

Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.

Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.

Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.

Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”

“Yes, but – how?”

“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”

“Copy lines?”

“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”

Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”

That was even weirder. “But –”

“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”

“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”

He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.

After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly. They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”

One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.

As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.

By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.

Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.

Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.

At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.

Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.

Until, of course, he wasn’t.

He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.

Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.

After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.

Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”

Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.

They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…

It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.

“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.

“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.

Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.

“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”

“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.

“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”

Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.

“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”

“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.

He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”

He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.

“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”

Lan Wangji poked him in the head.

“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”

Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.

“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”

Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.

The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.

It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.

Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.

It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –

“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.

Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.

“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”

Lan Xichen dropped his cup.

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”

“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”

Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.

“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.

“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”

“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.

“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.

Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”

“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.

Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”

Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”

“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”

They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”

It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”

“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”

Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.

“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”

“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”

“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.

“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”

“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.

“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan wangji #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #of few words #ivydragon

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arialerendeair · 4 years

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Prompt for the fic-a-thon? Alec is friends with Death. Maybe post-canon? Alec, frowning: "All shadowhunters know Death." Jace: "Not like that!" Gestures at Death having tea in Malec's loft.

Omg but I love this okay? I love this so much and it’s just... I have no idea how to describe this, but I love it, with a passion.

ALSO ADDING TO MY “LIST OF WAYS ALEC BECOMES IMMORTAL”.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Death wears many faces, and never the same face twice. Alec knows this, now.

The first time he meets Death, it’s when he is desperately searching the bodies in the Institute, dreading and yet expecting to find Magnus among them. The faces have long since blurred together, twisted in agony and it makes his heart ache. He vows to find a way to memorize and immortalize their names. They will not be forgotten. Not by the downworld and not by the shadowhunters.

“He isn’t here.”

Alec snapped to attention, staring at the old man, bent over a cane, carefully walking amongst the bodies like he belonged there. He frowned, his hand dropping to his weapon.

“I’m of no risk to you, Alec Lightwood. But who you seek. He isn’t here.”

Alec blinked and nearly sagged with relief, his breath leaving him in a quick rush. “How do you know?” The old man’s eyes were white, lacking any pupil, cloudy, and milky and Alec met them calmly, even as his heart started to pound.

The old man hummed. “I know the name of every who died here today, for I come to collect them.”

Realization of who, of what he was looking at made Alec freeze. He was staring at something impossible, something that shouldn’t be possible. And yet... He swallowed. “I, could I ask you for something?”

Death turned and raised an eyebrow. “What do you ask for?”

“Their names,” Alec said, looking around at them all and straightened his shoulders, looking at Death again. “I want to ensure none are forgotten. But, I, I need their names.”

Death hummed in consideration and tilted their head. He twitched his fingers and a list appeared and he offered it to the boy in front of him. “You are strange, Alexander Lightwood.”

Alec smiled briefly. “So I’ve been told.” He turned to head for the door, he had to find Magnus, but he paused and looked back at the man, who was still walking between the bodies.

“Do you wish to ask for something else?” Death asked, lifting their head.

“No,” Alec said, shaking his head. “But, please...” he cleared his throat and looked at the bodies, fighting back tears. “Take care of them? When, when you bring them to wherever they go? They should not have been lost today.”

Death hummed and watched as the boy turned and walked away, hurrying to find the other half of his soul. “Strange,” they repeated.

~!~

The second time Alec met Death, it was when he was furious with himself, punching the ground, the body of a shadowhunter, one under his command, who went by Wrench, but whose real name was Rachel Chadstone, was lying dead in the street. She should never have died.

“Injuring yourself will not bring her back.”

Alec’s head jumped up and he stared at the young girl, who couldn’t be more than ten, staring back at him with milky white eyes. He recognized them and his heart stopped. He looked down at her. “I should have saved her.”

“Perhaps,” Death allowed. “But I and Fate are not the same. I can tell you where I bring her she shall be happy.”

Alec lifted his eyes to look at Death and felt something in him relax a little at the knowledge. “Why,” he cleared his throat and met the white eyes again. “Why am I the only one that can see you?” he asked, gesturing to the others.

Death tilted their head, continuing to study the young boy. “You never ask the questions I expect you to.”

Alec shrugged and pushed himself upright, still staring down at the little girl. “It’s the question that I want an answer to, if you’re willing to give it.”

“There is very little Death gives, Alec. I take. It is my role,” Death said, stepping closer to the body on the ground. “But in this case, perhaps I can offer an answer.”

Alec watched as Death pressed her fingers to the chest of Rachel and a small light danced in her palm. It was bright and vibrant, much like she had been.

“You dance with me every day. I know you better than you could ever know. I have always been here. But now, you know where to look,” Death said, turning their back on him. “Until we meet again, Alec.”

Alec watched her disappear and exhaled hard, picking up Wrench’s body to carry her back to the others. They would need to get her ready to for transport to the City of Bones.

~!~

“I have always wanted to try coffee.”

Alec jolted in surprise, his eyes going to the young man dressed in black jeans and a plaid shirt standing beside him. White eyes met his and he looked around the room quickly, frowning.

“I am doing no more than pass through, Alec. Fear not,” Death said, stepping with him as they moved in line.

Alec cleared his throat and looked at the menu. “What coffee do you want?”

Death stared at him, blinking. “What would you recommend?”

Alec grinned and stepped up to the counter. “I’ll get you one of what Magnus gets. It’s too sweet for me, but I bet you’ll like it.”

Death hummed and stepped past Alec, waiting for him to finish ordering. Once they were standing side by side, again, they spoke. “You ordered me coffee.”

“Well yeah,” Alec said, looking at him. “You said you wanted to try it.”

Death blinked. “I do.”

Alec shrugged and took the cups as they were slid across the counter. He offered Death his and picked up the coffees for he and Magnus. “Then I had to get some for you. Now try it.”

Death took a sip of the coffee and their eyes widened, taking another sip quickly, watching Alec Lightwood laugh and smile wide in delight. “It is good.”

“There’s a reason it’s addictive. Magnus always has good taste,” Alec said, looking over at the warlock who was reading a book by the window. He looked back to Death. “Have you ever eaten anything?”

“No,” Death said, looking to Alec. “I do not need food.”

“I’m guessing you don’t need coffee either, but there you are drinking it. If you want to try anything, let me know,” he offered.

Death narrowed their eyes. “You ask for nothing in exchange?”

Alec paused, turning his attention back to Death before nodding. “Magnus has been... been helping me realize I need to appreciate small things more. A good cup of coffee. An excellent meal. A few hours with a person I love.”

“I see.”

“So, no. I don’t want anything. You’re inevitable. I don’t want to bribe or bargain with you. But, maybe I can help you find your favorite type of pizza,” Alec said, smiling as he sipped his own black coffee.

Death stared at Alec Lightwood for a long time, staring into him. “You wish to know Death?”

Alec’s smile turned sad. “I already do, remember?” He turned back to Magnus and paused before tilting his head towards the man. “Pizza. Or bagels. Or maybe a good burger.”

Death watched him walk away before calling out one last question. “Why?”

Alec looked back to him and winked. “It’s the right thing to do!”

“Strange,” Death said, even as they watched Alec’s soul greet its mate as though they had been parted.

~!~

It became a regular thing.

To see Death, in all its forms as he patrolled New York. To buy Death burgers, a bagel, a milkshake, or another cup of coffee.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn’t.

Sometimes there were no words to be said as they stood among loss.

Rare as they were, Alec learned to read Death’s moods. When Death was there for food and conversation, or when Death was there for work and nothing more.

Alec didn’t always ask questions, but sometimes he did.

Once he asked Death what their favorite moment in history was, another surprise. He asked what the best view on Earth was and took Magnus there and had to agree. Alec asked any question that he could think of that did not pertain to Death and their work. They were a constant, and there was no escaping them.

The day death came for him, Alec wasn’t ready. He knew there was no way to truly be ready, but standing in the kitchen of the loft, flipping pancakes, wearing only ratty sweats, enjoy a day off with his husband - he could never have been prepared.

When Death appeared, standing before him as a man close to the end himself, his eyes sunken and face gaunt, his skin paper thin and stretched over his bones, Alec felt panic race through him in an instant. “Magnus!” he shouted, yanking the pancakes off the stove, shoving the pan away from him, squaring his shoulders.

“Hello Alec,” Death said.

Alec trembled, even as he heard Magnus race through the loft, sliding into the kitchen, magic balled in his palms. He reached out for Magnus, glad when the warlock immediately strode to his side. He felt Magnus freeze and stare, which meant that now he could see too. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. He’d walked with Death for too long to not be calm in this moment.

“Are you here for me?” Alec whispered, meeting the white eyes. He’d known this day would come, but he had hoped, hoped against hope that it would not be so soon.

Death nodded and stepped forward. His eyes drifted to the other and saw the fear there. “You may say what you need to. Before.”

Alec closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he said, turning to face Magnus, wrapping his hands around Magnus’ cheeks, pulling him in for a desperate kiss.

“Alexander, Alec, please, you can’t-”

“Listen to me,” Alec interrupted. When tear-filled golden eyes met his, he cleared his throat. “I’ve walked with Death for a long time. Longer than you know. It’s inevitable, it always is.”

Magnus swallowed, tears starting to fall. “I’m not ready to lose you, Alexander. I don’t think I ever can be ready.”

“Me neither,” Alec whispered, stealing another kiss. “But listen to me. I love you. I’m always going to love you. Every part of me that exists, belongs to, and loves you, Magnus Bane.”

A sob escaped Magnus’ mouth and he clutched at Alec’s hips, pulling him in closer, tears falling in earnest now. “I love you too, Alexander.”

“Don’t you dare follow me,” Alec ordered, pressing their foreheads together, letting Magnus hold him close. “You stay here, right here, and I’ll watch over you, every single day, no matter where I am. I won’t leave you. You’ll have me. I will stay with you for however long your life is. And then when it’s time, I’ll be waiting for you. Do you understand me, Magnus?”

Magnus couldn’t help smiling through the tears, but he nodded, kissing Alec again, breathing out shakily against his lips. “I wanted you forever,” he whispered, unable to keep the words back. “For my forever.”

“I wanted that too,” Alec said, kissing Magnus, hard and fierce, blinking hard to stop the tears. “I love you, and I want you forever.”

Death paused and tilted their head, watching. They didn’t beg or plead for more time, for more that could not be given.

“I love you too, Alexander. I love you. I’m never going to love anyone else the way I love you. Never,” Magnus said, clinging to him. “I’ll never forget you, my love. I love you so much.”

Alec pressed their foreheads together and stole one last kiss, their tears salty on their lips as they trembled together. He rubbed their noses together and forced himself to smile. “I love you, Magnus.”

Alec slowly, painfully, pulled himself away from Magnus, turning to face Death. He didn’t let go of Magnus’ hand, even as he shook. He lifted his chin. “I’m ready.”

“So you are,” Death agreed. They stepped forward, stopping in front of Alec, reaching out their hand. “I will miss our walks, Alec Lightwood.”

“Me too,” Alec said, a tear sliding down his cheek. He turned to look at Magnus, meeting his eyes. “May I ask one last question?”

“You may,” Death said, stopping their hand in the air. “I expect I know it, this time.”

Alec smiled faintly, committing the golden flecks of Magnus’ eyes to memory for the hundredth, the thousandth time. “I think I might surprise you once again. When I’m gone, will you walk with Magnus?”

Death paused and tilted their head again. “Strange,” they whispered. “Why?”

“He’ll be alone,” Alec whispered, tears falling faster now. “But he still knows the best restaurants and coffee shops in the world. He, he could take you to Italy, let you taste gelato. Or, or sushi from Japan.”

“Death is not a friend to immortals, Alec Lightwood,” they said.

Alec turned to look at Death for the briefest of moments before back to Magnus, watching his eyes widen. “But if you do, then I will not leave you both alone. Until, until you bring him to me.”

Death considered, and nodded. “This is the one favor you ask of me, Alec Lightwood, in all the time we have known each other?”

Alec tightened the hold he had on Magnus’ hand, willing himself to be brave and for his voice not to shake. “Yes.”

“How strange,” they repeated, considering Alec for several long seconds. “Very well,” Death agreed, nodding their head. They reached out their hand again and pressed their fingers to Alec Lightwood’s temple. With a twist, they pulled their hand back, watching the smoke cling to it.

“Alexander!”

Alec stumbled, hard, but he could still feel Magnus’ hand in his, but something was different, something had been taken. He met Magnus’ eyes and forced himself upright, spinning towards Death, who was standing, watching them.

“I told you once, I only know how to take. It is in my nature to do so. I have taken,” Death said. The faintest hint of a smile traced their lips. “But in taking, sometimes there can be giving, just as in death, sometimes there may be life.”

Alec sucked in a hard breath, Magnus’ hand shaking in his. “Forgive me for asking the obvious question, for once, but what did you take?”

“You will know soon enough. Though, perhaps soon is the wrong word to use,” Death said, tapping a finger to their jaw.

“Why?” Alec whispered.

Death smiled, and this time it was big and wide, horrific in its mottled beauty of the near-corpse of its body. “It is the right thing to do.”

Between one blink and the next, Death was gone, and Alec sagged in relief, spinning to wrap Magnus in his arms, holding onto him desperately tight. “I’m okay,” he breathed. “Magnus, I’m still here, I’m okay,” Alec repeated, almost terrified of the words.

“Let me, let me!” Magnus frantically pushed his magic through Alec, examining every inch of him, and like this, he could feel the faint heavy touches of a magic older than time itself. He healed anything he could find, the minutest of injuries and bruises until he finally pulled his magic back and stared up at Alec.

“Magnus,” Alec said, grabbing at his hands, pulling him in close. “I’m here, I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Magnus clenched his eyes shut, pressing every inch of himself that he could against Alec, wanting to crawl into his skin so they never needed to be separated again. “I have a lot of questions for you,” he whispered, once he could find his voice again.

Alec wrapped an arm around Magnus, nuzzling into his hair. “You can ask me anything you like.”

“What did Death take from you, Alexander? I couldn’t feel anything wrong,” Magnus said, still clutching at Alec’s hips, afraid to let go.

Alec closed his eyes and replayed the conversation in his head before his eyes snapped open and he looked down at Magnus. “Soon. But soon is the wrong word,” he repeated. “Meaning that whatever it was will take time to appear, that I won’t know until much time has passed!”

Magnus frowned, his brow wrinkling. “Which means...?”

Alec’s eyes closed shut briefly in relief before he opened them to look down at Magnus. “They took my mortality, Magnus. Death gifted me forever. Forever with you!” A giddy laugh escaped Alec and he spun Magnus around before pressing him up and against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

When Alec finally pulled back from the kiss, Magnus stared up at him in awe. “You’re sure?”

“It’s what makes sense,” Alec said with a shrug, kissing Magnus again. “We can try asking next time they visit.”

Magnus blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Death visiting is going to be a regular occurrence?”

Alec grinned, bright and wide. “You have no idea.”

~!~

Two months later, Alec was walking hand in hand with Magnus when a young lady with bright pink hair, red lipstick that matched Izzy’s and an outfit that could be called jarring on a good day stopped in front of them.

“I would like to try Gelato, Alec.”

Alec squeezed Magnus’ hand and took a step forward. “I think we can make that happen.”

Magnus inclined his head to Death before summoning a portal. “Shall we?” Stepping out and into the brightly lit streets of Rome, Magnus took Alec’s hand again. “Let me tell you about the first time I had gelato!” he announced.

Death nodded and fell into step with them as they walked.

They were still strange. But, perhaps, they were also fitting that way.

#Aria Posts #Fic-A-Thon #Malec #Friends with Death #Immortal Husbands #This is my new favorite way I've made Alec Immortal #Hands down #Happy Ending #Angst #Surprises #THERE IS NO MCD #Mentions of suicide #ivydragon

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godtierwallflower · 5 years

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Sleepy ramble, need these thoughts out in the world so I can sleep please: Kakashi dies specifically for Choji and generally for the village, Gai (almost) dies specifically for Lee and Kakashi and generally for the world. They have both probably thought alot about when and who for they would die. Also they both have issues really connecting with people (maybe connected, sorta, sleep please, Kakagai) Overall thoughts?

Well, sweet dreams then!

tldr; Yes, Kakashi and Gai both grew up with the intention of eventually dying for someone. They’ve both probably thought a lot about when they were going to die. In Kakashi’s case, he thought most about the people on the other side, while in Gai’s case, he thought most about the people who would stay alive by his sacrifice, although they each respectively thought about the other issue too.

As you wish, some Kakashi and Gai and kakagai meta under the cut! With pictures!

Kakashi adopted the mindset after he repeatedly lost his loved ones and became disillusioned with himself and the job.

As Gai, Kurenai, and Asuma pointed out, when Kakashi was in ANBU, he acted like he was in a hurry to die. When he did die for Choji, you could tell there was definitely a great relief to getting to die and imagining his loved ones. When he sees Minato, Obito, and Rin smiling and greeting him on the other side, we know that was all in his imagination (because Obito isn’t dead), but when he sees his father in purgatory, he’s mostly ready to accept that this is his time. Kakashi, maybe subconsciously, seems to find people easy to love/admit to himself that he loves when he’s already lost them.

When Sasuke specifically threatens to kill Kakashi’s loved one(s), for example…

He wasn’t entirely open about this, of course. He was trying, in good faith, to convince Sasuke that giving up the ghost and focus on what he had instead of what he lost. And admittedly, it does make Sasuke remember that Sakura and Naruto are both precious to him, and Kakashi is doing this as the only adult in this series to genuinely try to connect with and help Sasuke without the intention of using him. If Sasuke didn’t have people specifically trying to force him to relapse on his unhealthier mindsets, this might have actually worked. With that in mind, it would have been useless for Kakashi to give a more honest answer of “Okay, their names are Gai and Yamato, but at your level right now they’ll probably kick your butt.”

But the point remains that this is one of Kakashi’s most well-known quotes.

There are a lot of ways to read it, but taken at face value, this is Kakashi saying the people he loves most are the people who have died, and that his new companions are a consolation to that pain. And there is some truth in that. Kakashi deifies the late Obito and visits his grave so much that it makes him late for prior engagements he has with the living, and he carries the weight of his father’s death for quite a while. Chronologically, he’s known Gai about as long as he’s known Obito and Rin, but Gai and Yamato still go in the same category of new companions who he hasn’t lost [yet]. You could even say that he loves Obito and Rin more in death than he did in life (although Minato and Sakumo he already loved quite a bit).

It takes him a long while to admit that he loves the kids on his team. He doesn’t say it until after he’s reconciled with Obito.

But he is still willing to give his all and his life for the village and especially its kids, which is why it means so much that he died for Choji specifically and the village broadly, who he hadn’t been shown interacting with a lot up to that point. Kakashi is bad at forming mutual connections, and is even adverse to it, but he is surprisingly quick to care about people enough to put his life on the line. It doesn’t interfere with his professionalism, but he certainly does have a lot of close calls and hospital visits throughout the series.

This? Doesn’t happen. We know it’s all in Kakashi’s head, because Obito is… not there. This is a visual representation of Kakashi being sad because he couldn’t have that sweet release of death, to put it bluntly.

It comes down to the fact that, until he meets Obito again, he feels like the people he’s most able to love and miss are the people who are already dead. After he’s faced his demons, reconciled with Obito and the idea of letting him down via Rin, and even worked under Minato again, Kakashi is able to stop living his life feeling like he owed his lost ones a meaningful death. He lives and becomes Hokages because he wants to be there for the people he loves, and in Kakashi Hiden, he mentally lists off those living people he loves and it fuels him as motivation to finally accept the position of Hokage. He still carries the lessons he learned, as we can see when he warns Houki of the dangers of not trying to use teamwork and connect with his team while he still had time, but Kakashi’s words can finally ring true in the New Era. “No time like the present.”

Gai has lived his life with the ideal that a life given for someone you love is a noble thing, and on some level, he’s also missed his dad as well.

He sees his dad as a man worth emulating, and that final act of love and sacrifice is something he always planned to follow up on. But this likely isn’t driven by a desire to simply see his father again on the other side. Rather, it’s another way for Gai to keep his father’s teaching alive and honor a long-standing self-rule.

Gai is actually a very private person. His purposely positive and silly front is largely that, a front, and that’s pretty clear throughout the series, but especially in comparison to his younger, more pessimistic self.

He’s very caring and protective, but it’s not clear who he’s actually opened up to. He hides his weaknesses and doubts from Lee and his team for sure, because he wants to be their inspiration and not put any of his own hangups on the kids he’s raising.

And he’s not in a hurry to die. He’s been noted throughout the series to have a incredible level of endurance and stamina, to the point where he’s got the highest pain tolerance out of anyone in the series, and he’s able to brush off or heal from relatively major injuries. He takes good care of himself. Gai is actually very conservative about using the eight gates.

In all his fights with Kisame, for example, he started out in his base form, assessed the level of his opponent, and then, once he figured it out, opened enough gates to quickly and one-sidedly end the fight.

Gai wants to live. He’s open about the fact that he loves his team from the very first day they’re assigned to him, he’s open about the fact that he loves and cares about Kakashi for a long, long time, he’s open about caring about the kids and the village in general.

But he’s not open about his thoughts and worries, and part of the reason he acts so goofy and openly doesn’t care what others say about him behind his back or to his face is because it’s partially a way to keep others at arm’s length, too. Gai knows for a long time that he’s planning on going out in a blaze of glory, after all.

Gai ultimately opens the gates for two of the people he loves most in the world, Kakashi and Lee, as well as for the future of all of Konoha. And he doesn’t hesitate. As soon as it’s clear that that’s his only viable option, he announces his intent to the others and then ignores their arguments for why he shouldn’t.

In regards to kakagai, this is something they both know about each other and have frequently argued about, and they’re both well aware that they’re hypocrites for criticizing it in each other.

Kakashi and Gai are outright passive-aggressive at each other about this, in front of their students. It’s well-established that they’ve had this sort of back-and-forth of “I don’t want you to die.” “I’ll die if I want to, screw you.” for a long time now, and Kakashi is openly disdainful of Gai using the gates at all. Not enough to actually interfere with each other’s tasks or fights, of course. Just enough to be passive-aggressive about it from time to time.

As of the New Era, or even just post-war in general, they’ve mellowed out in regards to this. Gai, because he’s already opened the 8th gate in what he thought was his final sacrifice and probably can’t do it again, and Kakashi, because he knows his loved ones beyond the grave don’t hate him and don’t want him to hurry up and die.

It’s part of why post-war, Kakashi and Gai are closer and happier together than ever before.

#Kakashi #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #Might Guy #kakagai #Naruto #ivydragon #flower brambles #I hope this is understandable #meta

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siavahdainthemoon · 4 years

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Enjoying your Runed posts, it sucks that you are having trouble with the next chapter, but I believe in you and I'm sure it will be great! With the interlude chapters, timing wise, did Alec get to the institute before the Warlock representative? Loved the imagery. You imply that something happens to Simon once the circles on his feet are broken, but it didn't seem like they were broken yet? I think? How many Nephilim are in New York at the moment? Bit of a change from 3 1/2 haha

Thank you lovely, I really appreciate that!

Alec did not get to the Institute before the warlock rep, no, which is clarified in the next chapter. I’m really glad you liked the imagery, I had a lot of fun with it :D

The interludes are in chronological order, and yes, the circles on Simon’s feet were broken by the time Alec arrived. What happened when they broke wasn’t...exactly...like a bomb going off or something, so there wasn’t a huge shockwave effect that Alec (or Izzy or Jace) could have detected. But it was a big, drastic thing and you’ll get to see what it was in the next chapter. (I CAN’T WAIT TO SHOW YOU GUYS I REALLY CAN’T!!!)

Not including Merchant Adventurers, who are living their lives and doing their things, or Valentine and his buddies, there are probably between 200-250 Nephilim in New York right now. The Coadjutor brought more with her, and as you’ll see in the next chapter, she and the High Inquisitor summoned even more Shadowhunters to help search for Valentine once the Spiral Court explained (most of) what was going on. So: a ton of Shadowhunters, a whole bunch of inquisitors, the Coadjutor and her retinue, the secretari, some other scholae, and iatroi (healers) to take care of the rest of them. Plus a few handfuls of golems to do the manual labour and heavy lifting.

A BIG CHANGE FROM 3 1/2 INDEED!

#Runed stuff #City of Knives #ivydragon

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as-i-watch · 3 years

Note

٩(^ᴗ^)۶ I love seeing your reactions to one piece moments, it let's me relive the excitement. Thank you.

Thank you so much!! It what i had in mind when i made this silly blog, so you have no idea how happy it makes me that people enjoy it

And to be honest the One Piece fans are so nice and welcoming that you guys make it great to watch and share

#ask #one piece #@ivydragon

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pyrar · 7 years

Text

Q&A

Tagged by @forever-afk and actually wanted to do it

RULES: TAG 20 15 FOLLOWERS YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER.

Name: Jessica

Nicknames: Py / Faer (preferred names)

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Cancer-Leo Cusp

Height: 5′5

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Hogwarts House: I don’t know this one. Maybe the badger one. I took a quiz like 5 years ago.

Favorite color: Dark sea colors (Teals, Blues, Greens, black???)

Favorite Animal: Octopus!!!!!!

Average hours of sleep: it fluctuates between an average of 3-5 hours and 9-12 hours... depends on how much time I have.

Cat or Dog Person: Cats

Favorite Fictional Characters: All the characters from the black magician series, literally any wizard??? I’m bad at this sort of question.

Number of Blankets I Sleep With: 4 on average, though the most I had was like 8 or 9.

Favorite Singer/Band: Ben Howard is one of my favorites that I can think of off the top of my head. God I love him.

Dream Trip: I’d like to go to the Himalayas or go on a cross-country through Europe. I really would like to hike more. I probably would like to go see Greece or parts of India.

Dream Job: Any job that would take me as a full-time illustrator. Being able to live off of something/do something i’m so passionate about full time? Oh please.... please, please, please.

When was this blog created?: March 31, 2011

Current Number of Followers: 1,058 on this blog.

When did your blog reach its peak?: I’m livin’ it now bitches B)

What made you decide to make a Tumblr?: I was introduced to it by having homeroom in high school with @schmedzageddon and @terri-bo - Thanks yall.

I’m going to tag: @she-wants-the-d20 @rinithil @razxion @schmedzageddon (double tagged ;) ) @edaigoa @pitfights @pageslikepetals @thegoddamnhawkman @blencem @ivydragon @monster-pirate @do-fairies-really-fly @stormandozone @comforthawk @itsalburton

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illuminatedferret · 18 days

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Hey your coffin prayers au ask got me thinking and, sorta side thoughts. The blessing lanterns, am I crazy for remembering there are three ways to make a blessing listed? Was it something like, be super wealthy, be a priest? And have true faith (but those people usually ascend themselves and thus rare or something)? Did I imagine that in the book?

If not, obviously Hua Cheng is super wealthy and has true faith in Xie Lian. So 2/3. But would he be a priest? Was I even remembering the second possibility right? Trying to figure out if Hua Cheng is an all rounder, 3/3 blessing lanterns devote. Just curious on your thoughts.

Ah, I remember what you're talking about! That's not to do with Blessings Lanterns, it's "grand believers", who are either the rich responsible for constructing temples, buying incense, and conducting services, missionaries who spread the religion, and believers with "absolute faith in both heart and body." The confusion makes sense, because as far as I'm aware these 'grand believers' are only mentioned in the lead-up to the Bridegroom mission (pg. 35, specifically) and never again.

What it means to be a grand believer is never really explained, but I imagine it's that these are 3 groups of believers the gods pay closer attention to because of their power, value, and/or rarity. But I never thought about how Hua Cheng fits those requirements! The only place he's technically lacking is in missionary work, but I bet that if the circumstances were different and it was considered less inappropriate to proselytize for a banished god (who you, the Scourge of the Heavens, are in love with, and who doesn't know you exist) he would have talked Xie Lian up all over the place. All hail the scrap god!

For Blessings Lanterns, they're special basically just because they're super expensive. Well, that's not just it, but it basically boils down to two things: one, Blessings Lanterns are "hard to buy even with a thousand gold" (Vol. 3, pg. 269) and two, apparently Blessings Lanterns are difficult to extinguish, which is why their full name is Blessings Lanterns of Everlasting Light. This doesn't seem significant, but it's likely why the lanterns are able to reach the heavens- a special build and a long-lasting flame, enabling the lantern to reach a high altitude.

Anyway, I'm taking this mostly as an opportunity to ramble about cool facts, but we don't actually know how Blessings Lanterns are constructed, is what I'm saying. We do know they're special, as Shi Qingxuan emphasizes when people question whether or not Xie Lian's lanterns are the real deal. But what goes in to making the lanterns so they can achieve these things is unclear.

#ivydragon #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven officials blessing #illuanswers #thanks for the ask! this was fun to answer #i hope i answered your question also btw

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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First time submitting prompts, fairly new follower. Love your writing!

NHS and LWJ friendship. Subtle and maybe people other than their big brothers don't see it and it shocks people when they find out. Mostly Canon compliant?

Associates - Part 3 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2

In the end, it was Lan Wangji who went to get Wei Wuxian, rather than wait patiently for him to return of his own free will as he had originally intended.

It had been Nie Huaisang’s idea, after nearly a year of Wei Wuxian travelling – they’d never actually pursued the jealousy idea he’d initially suggested on account of it being a terrible idea, Lan Wangji’s temporary moment of insanity in even considering it aside. It had come up seemingly apropos of nothing, one day when the two of them were working together in Lan Wangji’s study, Lan Wangji filling out the paperwork in his graceful handwriting as Nie Huaisang flittered around solving problems – he preferred pacing as he thought, which perhaps explained his reluctance to work on documents despite his beautiful calligraphy, and all the marching around made him, in some moments, look remarkably like his elder brother, something Lan Wangji deliberately refrained from ever mentioning.

“You need to go pick him up,” Nie Huaisang had suddenly said, in between planning out the next discussion conference and explaining why a seemingly minor dispute regarding shifting the boundary line near the Yuncheng Bao sect by a single li could have catastrophic consequences for the Jin sect’s long-term stability. “I know you’re afraid of giving the impression that you’re trapping him and restraining his freedom, but that’s your problem, not his. He wants to be asked.”

“Does he?” Lan Wangji had asked, finishing the sentence he was on and putting down the brush. Some things took priority above night-fishing rights near a contained Waterborne Abyss, no matter the new head of the Laoling Qin sect might think.

“Mm, yes. He’s been taking a lot of night hunts in the immediate vicinity of Gusu, close but never too close…Lan Zhan, he’s hinting that he wants you to chase him.”

“Pride?”

“A bit, maybe? Mostly I think it was his position in Yunmeng Jiang, where the former Sect Leader Jiang wanted him and Madame Yu didn’t, so his status was always that slightest bit uncertain. Here and now, he wants to know that he’s really welcome…don’t give me that look! He knows he’s welcome, you’ve made that clear, but making you be the one to ask is just another way to ensure that it’s actually true.”

And so Lan Wangji had gone to where he’d heard that Wei Wuxian was night-hunting, flying down on Bichen when he saw him walking with Lil’ Apple along a mountain path – he called his name, and Wei Wuxian had turned and smiled…

Wei Wuxian had come back with him.

More than that – he’d kissed him, he’d said he was staying with him, he’d agreed to marry him, to live their life together from then on.

They were officially engaged now, the auspicious date having been selected, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling having demanded roles on the side of the bride – Wei Wuxian briefly protested being the bride, then realized that he was marrying into the Lan sect and promptly reversed course, announcing that he wanted all the trappings of being a bride, excluding the dress – and life was very, very good.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks was about as long as the cultivation world could hold off on needing its Chief Cultivator to be more than part time – he’d done a lot of the work in the mornings while Wei Wuxian was still asleep or when he was busy, and of course he had the system of delegation that Nie Huaisang had constructed for him and naturally Nie Huaisang himself helping out through his letters – and regretfully, Lan Wangji had had to return his full focus to his duties.

At first, it didn’t mark that much of a change: Wei Wuxian would bring projects of his own and they would work side by side, Lan Wangji already accustomed to the presence of another through all the work he’d done with Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji insisted that Wei Wuxian go out regularly with the juniors for night-hunts even if he himself could not. It all seemed fine, except only that Lan Wangji had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important.

It was only when the first big issue came up – a serious dispute between two small sects – that Lan Wangji realized what that was.

He sent a message to the Unclean Realm and waited.

Nie Huaisang arrived at the Cloud Recesses at the exact time one might expect if Nie Huaisang had received the message and left at once at top speed, accounting for the relatively slow pace he had when flying as a result of his mediocre cultivation.

Letter still crushed in his hand, he swept into the jingshi in his usual manner, all high drama and flash, wailing, “Lan Zhan! You betrayed me! You, of all people! My oldest friend!”

Lan Wangji, who had been expecting this, rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, sitting in the desk he’d claimed as his own, looked up, startled. “Nie Huaisang?”

“Oh, hi, Wei Wuxian, congratulations on your engagement, has Lan Zhan shown you the present I sent? Probably not, he never does – Lan Zhan! Don’t think I’m letting you distract me with Wei Wuxian! You answer for this right away!”

He waved the crumbled letter at Lan Wangji.

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Wangji said. “I requested your assistance in my capacity as Chief Cultivator.”

“You called me a spineless, gutless coward!”

Wei Wuxian made a choking sound.

“I sought to accurately characterize your recent behavior,” Lan Wangji said, and noted that Wei Wuxian’s choking noises got worse, although he did not actually appear to be in need of air. “Do you object?”

(There was something about Nie Huaisang’s company that reminded Lan Wangji irresistibly of being a child again, he had found, and it was only recently that he had begun to remember that as a child he had once had a tendency to bite. A pleasant rediscovery, even if the sharpness of his teeth were now expressed via paper and ink rather than through physical attacks.)

“You were the one who took a month off,” Nie Huaisang complained, a blatant lie given that Lan Wangji had been on partial duty for no more than two weeks, but dropped into his usual place at Lan Wangji’s side obediently enough. “Lan Zhaaaaaaan, don’t make me do work –”

Lan Wangji was going to say something about how it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang was doing any less work by doing his part in the Unclean Realm rather than being physically present in Gusu for consultations, he was just doing it less efficiently, but that was when Wei Wuxian coughed into his hand.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, with too much formality, but Nie Huaisang waved his hands at him querulously, clearly disapproving, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah – Nie Huaisang. Since when do you call Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan? I thought you called him Lan-er-gongzi?”

“Oh, no, it’s been Lan Zhan since I was – what, seven or so?” Nie Huaisang said. “I wasn’t joking about him being my oldest friend, you know. We were just fighting back then, when you came for the lectures.”

Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who nodded in confirmation.

They’d failed each other rather thoroughly back then, neither one being there for the other when they could have been. Nie Huaisang had not been wrong to observed that simply because he had always been free and open with his affections, Lan Wangji had assumed they would always be there to be resumed at a later time, without any need for maintenance – playing hot and cold, offering and receiving comfort and support at certain times, totally distant at others…it wasn’t until much later, when Lan Wangji emerged from seclusion, that he had needed Nie Huaisang again, and realized what he’d lost in the blank and disinterested glance of the boy he’d once thought of as his friend, who now seemed to visit the Cloud Recesses only in search of his elder brother.

They’d spoken in those intervening years, but it had always been light, superficial. Lan Wangji could have reached out a hand at that time, sought to resume their relationship, but he was consumed with his own grief, his own troubles, and out of respect for the face of his sect he had refused to share them; perhaps if he had, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have done what he had done, would have relied upon him instead.

Perhaps things would have been very different.

It wasn’t until he’d finally swallowed his pride to ask Nie Huaisang for help with the overwhelming work of being Lan sect leader and Chief Cultivator both that they had broken through that distance once more. It had been difficult at first, readjusting their long-lost patterns to their adult behaviors, but they had slowly but surely fallen into a comfortable dynamic that suited them both.

“I had no idea,” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You spend much time together?”

“Nie-xiong assists me in my duties,” Lan Wangji interjected before Nie Huaisang could spout something stupid about eloping, as he was sometimes wont to do. “He has been critical in ensuring that I am not overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian mouthed ‘Nie-xiong’, but what he said was, “You, Lan Zhan? Overwhelmed?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother went into seclusion,” he explained. “As sect heir, I became responsible for the duties of sect leader of the Lan sect, and I had also accepted the post of Chief Cultivator.”

“And he didn’t have anyone else to help, so he came to me,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully, ignoring how Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “I hope you don’t mind. It was very convenient a trade: I know plenty of things about being a sect leader – more than you’d think, I swear! – and Lan Wangji, as Chief Cultivator, can help me whenever someone tries to make something out of that awful business last year.”

There had been a few unfortunate sequelae to those events. Nie Huaisang’s role had never been officially confirmed, but somehow word had gotten out regardless and sects throughout the cultivation world were looking at Nie Huaisang in suspicion – less out of concern for Jin Guangyao, although there were a few that had especially benefited from his rule that were disappointed, than with an eye towards the future. The wise ones were afraid of his patience and planning, but far more were simply greedy, looking for a chance to finally uproot the notorious Headshaker now that his best protection, his brother’s two sworn brothers, were not there to defend him.

As he had promised, Lan Wangji had defied any attempts by others to do anything of that sort.

As he had promised, he would not change his mind or withdraw his support, no matter what Wei Wuxian said.

His shoulders tensed as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to need to talk to Jiang Cheng,” he remarked, seemingly unrelatedly, and then said, “Well, I trust Lan Zhan’s judgment.”

Nie Huaisang had covered his face with his fan and was looking over it at Wei Wuxian. “You do? And here I thought you didn’t associate with evil…”

“Those are from Lan Zhan’s sect rules, not mine,” Wei Wuxian declared. “If he doesn’t judge you to be evil, who am I to say otherwise?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“We should talk more, sometime,” Wei Wuxian continued. “And hey, Nie-xiong, I don’t know if you still collect those books –”

“Oh, of course, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Though you don’t need to ask for them from me. Lan Zhan’s built up quite a collection over the years.”

Lan Wangji sighed, even as Wei Wuxian spun to look at him with a predatory look in his eyes, not unlike a sighthound that had just fixed on its prey. “You do?”

“Nie-xiong has gifted me with many art pieces over the years,” Lan Wangji admitted. His ears felt as though they were on fire; they were undoubtedly red. “You may peruse them at your leisure.”

“At our leisure,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his eyes deeply intent. “I can’t wait to see what spring books you like best, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji averted his eyes, feeling hot.

Nie Huaisang giggled and snapped his fan shut. “You don’t want to see the art I sent, Wei-xiong, trust me,” he cackled. “You want to see the pieces. Just ask!”

Wei Wuxian grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s a private discussion! Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Jiang Cheng – you two work on your Chief Cultivator stuff.”

“Your insight would be welcome,” Lan Wangji said, but Wei Wuxian waved a casual hand.

“Later, later,” he said breezily. “I don’t know either of those sects, I couldn’t possibly say anything intelligent – maybe next time you have a question. I look forward to working with you, Nie-xiong.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Lan Wangji watched them smile at each other – still a little wary, but both clearly willing to attempt a renewal of their own friendship, even after everything – and his heart felt light.

The only thing, he reflected, that would make this perfect would be if Lan Xichen came out of seclusion.

But with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang on the job, they’d be sure to figure out a way to do that soon enough.

He was sure of it.

#mdzs #lan wangji #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #associates #associates was actually supposed to be a one shot fic but then I saw this prompt after writing the first one and felt the need to continue #and here we are #ivydragon

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arialerendeair · 4 years

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If you’re still doing prompts, I have one! An outside pov fic of whatever characters in sh you want

@lightwormsiblings and @ivydragon had the same idea - so here’s for combining two prompts into one, because I came up with a really fun idea I think that you all might enjoy for it!

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Raziel watched as the warlock charged into the New York Institute, his posture frantic as he looked around and immediately strode for the ceremony in the church. A quick twist of magic allowed him to shift his view and he couldn’t contain his delight when the warlock dashed into the wedding, making everyone freeze.

“Raziel, what is happening?”

Raziel lazily glanced at Anael, who had settled beside him and shook his head at her, turning his attention back to what was happening below. “The world is about to change,” he said, unable to keep from smiling.

He blew gently on the image he could see, watching as one of his children stepped off the altar, conviction in every step as he charged towards the warlock waiting for him. Watching their lips lock in a kiss, Raziel took in the bright sparks of power that bled off the both of them, saturating those around them.

“Raziel!” Anael snapped.

Raziel smiled and let the image dissipate. He looked up at her and raised both of his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Anael scowled. “You know better than to interfere with them!”

“Giving them the briefest push of courage is hardly interference,” Raziel scoffed, rolling his eyes as he strode past her. “Do not be dramatic.”

~!~

Raziel whistled, long and low, unable to keep his attention away from the events playing out below. Ever since he had been summoned to the shores of Lake Lynn he had been keeping a much closer eye on the events and people surrounding them in the world. And, of course, some of his favorites.

“Watching them again, Raziel? You’re worse than Father,” Uriel scoffed.

Raziel smiled and turned his attention to the nephilim and warlock couple. “They are fascinating. They are changing their world.”

“They summoned you to kill them all!” Uriel sputtered, glaring at him. “How can you still look upon them with such benevolence?”

“Because,” Raziel said with a shrug. “They are not all bad. Some of them act with love before all else and try to make their world better. What is not to admire about such an act?”

Uriel scowled and scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “They are young and foolish. They do not know better!”

Raziel hummed and looked back down to the image, watching as his child saved a young warlock, only to be saved by the same warlock he had kissed all those days ago. “Perhaps not,” he allowed, smiling faintly. “But, they try.”

Uriel snorted. “As though trying makes a difference!”

Raziel’s eyes traced Uriel’s frame as he strode away, his wings twitching in agitation before he looked back to the image below. He could feel the fear growing in the warlock and turned to his child, pressing gentle fingers to his image. “Be patient and gentle with him,” he ordered. “He needs you.”

~!~

A frown grew on Raziel’s face as he watched the events unfold in front of him. Watching the warlock give up his magic to save one of his children. He pressed his fingers to the image and closed his eyes. “I cannot bless you, but I can send my thoughts with you and with my child,” he promised.

It was agony to watch them both, struggling through injury, through insult, and yet the two of them only held each other tighter and refused to let go.

Raziel smiled. His child was unafraid of the pain and the tough times of their relationship, and where a lesser nephilim might have buckled under the pressure, he only stood taller and held on tighter. There was something to be admired in that level of conviction and loyalty. The same conviction that had echoed in his footsteps down the aisle what felt like an eternity ago.

“You can make it through,” Raziel promised them both, watching as they struggled, but together, they stumbled less. “Hold on to each other and make it through,” he ordered them.

“Watching your pets again, Raziel?” A cold voice asked.

“They aren’t my pets,” he protested, dispelling the image an instant later, turning to face the angel behind him. He raised his eyebrows at both Anael and Uriel. “I simply observe them.”

Anael stepped closer, her wings dipped in concern. “We are worried about you, Raziel. You spend all of your time watching them-”

“With good reason, considering my summoning!” Raziel snapped, narrowing his eyes as she stepped back, abashed.

Uriel cleared his throat, stepping forward. “You love them overmuch, Raziel. You risk meddling and tipping the scales.”

Raziel narrowed his eyes and his wings flared wide as he glared at Uriel, watching the angel cower in front of him. “Do you believe me ignorant of our laws and ways? Do you think I do not know and abide by them? Would you bring this accusations in front of Michael, or Raphael to have them share your thoughts with them?”

Uriel stepped back, his wings downcast, shaking his head under the force of anger. “We worry about you!”

“Save your worry for those who deserve it,” Raziel snapped, turning back to the pool in clear dismissal of them both. When he was able to summon the view of them once again, his eyes widened in fear as one of his children summoned Asmodeus. Worse still, was the conviction that he was doing the right thing, that this was the decision he had to make for them all.

~!~

It was rare that Raziel took the time to walk among his children, but this was an instance where he made an exception. Stepping into the chapel that he had first seen his child and the warlock come together in, the difference in energy was palpable. He leaned against a wall in the back, hiding his presence from those amongst the others. A slow inhale and he couldn’t help smiling for the sheer presence of love in the room.

Watching as his nephilim stepped forward first, a large grin on his face, happiness shining from his entire being, towards the altar, Raziel was even more certain of his initial prediction. This was a love and a conviction that could, and would change this world for the better. Next, the warlock he would pledge his life to.

Raziel watched as they clasped hands, swearing vows together before leaning in for a kiss. The instant their lips met, the same golden burst from the first time appeared and Raziel drank it in, closing his eyes. With a whisper, he offered them his own blessing.

“Magnus and Alec Lightwood-Bane,” Raziel whispered. “May your hands remain strong, for your path ahead is difficult. May your eyes remain clear, so you may always see where you must stride. May your bodies find solace in each other, so you may draw strength when you lack it. May your hearts remain open, so you may never forget what brought you here, today.” He paused and offered a final blessing, his lips quirking into a smile. “And may you find the solution you seek, when your minds find and agree upon your true direction.”

He watched them leave together, hands clasped, and pushed himself upright, preparing to leave when a flash of pain in the room caught his attention. Raziel frowned and settled back against the wall, blending into the crowd until he could bring his attention to the source of that pain. When he realized it was Clarissa Fairchild, his attention sharpened further.

It was a matter of seconds to realize what had been done. Her gift had been stripped from her and Ithuriel’s blood forced dormant in her veins. It was strong magic, and he stepped forward, watching as one of her runes disappeared. This was wrong. Never had there been precedence for stripping his children, his Nephilim of their runes in such a manner. Not only were her runes stripped, but her memories were fading away.

He watched her hurry away from the party, hiding the vanishing of her runes from the others, and followed her, anger growing inside him. How dare the others take this from her! Raziel reached out to undo the spell but found himself repelled and he scowled, looking heavenward. They had known he would try to prevent things.

When Clarissa froze outside the Institute, all of her memories clearly gone and she trembled, cold and alone, Raziel stepped forward, closing his eyes as he wrapped his wings around her, invisible, but there.

“Clarissa,” he breathed, his voice silent to her ears. “I cannot undo what they have done. But I will restore what I can of your life. You will find your school and home waiting. You will find friends, and even happiness. In a year, if you wish it, you may return to this world, and we will be waiting for you.”

Raziel stepped back and watched her straighten her shoulders and begin striding towards the street nearby. He looked heavenward again, his eyes flashing with anger. No one touched his children. With a beat of his wings, he was gone.

~!~

A year later, almost to the day, Raziel smiled as Clarissa spotted Jace, standing in an art gallery. She had flourished, as he had known she could, but she knew something was missing from her world. Now, if she wanted it, she could be brought back in again.

All was well.

#Aria Posts #Fic-A-Thon #Malec #Outsider POV #Raziel watches over them all #The angels are sassy with each other fight me on this #They've had millennia to get used to each other so there is some SRS sass #Raziel ships it #Clary Fix-It #Raziel is pissed about Clary and will be having WORDS #Hints of Immortal Husbands #lightwormsiblings

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