#Our Struggle with the Man-Killing Bamboo

[mudwerks]

Our Struggle with the Man-Killing Bamboo

Fury: December 1957

#Our Struggle with the Man-Killing Bamboo #men's magazine #vintage #story art #Fury #1957

[downywrites]

Sap.

Dream and george find out that water makes sap very sensitive and use it to their advantage.

The rain was pouring. Pouring a little too hard for the blaze hybrid’s liking. Sapnap leaned on the side of the railway, avoiding the droplets of water that threatened to fall on top of him with every shift of the wind. The cutting edge of the wind felt like a blade to his throat, soft sizzling emanating from his form. He sighed softly. “Where are the other two? They said that they would be here to get me that stupid umbrella I need.” A scoff. “Seriously, are they busy snogging or something? Prime, they are the most annoying people on the SMP-” 

Footsteps on the path snapped him out of his trance.

 He stepped back from the railing in surprise. “Hello?” Tail softly lashing back and forth, he turned around to see absolutely nothing but a haze of rain. Dejected, he looked down at his shoes. “Of course it wasn’t them. It’s probably Tommy or something. Another round of footsteps graced his ears. He perked up again for a moment, excited. His chest raced with muted interest. “Dream? George?” Again, no sound but the pattering rain pierced the air. He shook his head back and forth. Was he hearing things? He stepped back from the railings completely, taking a seat on the cold stone floor below him. Carefully crossing his legs into a criss-cross position, he took in the world around him in a different perspective. He was never the kind to meditate (or slow down at all, for that matter), but his lovely husband has taught him how. Sapnap let his eyes flutter shut. Almost immediately, Karl’s voice serenaded him amongst the sound of water flowing beside him. “Alright, Sappy, breathe in time with me. In…” Sapnap inhaled. The scent of water and grass and soggy wood permeated his senses. “And out.” The breath of white smoke that came out of his mouth was not stress-induced, not at all. “In…” And the rain went on and on. “Out….”

Sapnap came to with the sound of birds chirping merrily in his ears. Groaning softly, he rubbed at his eyes and uncrossed his legs as best as he could. The stretch in his legs hinted that he may have been in that position for more than a few hours too long. He rolled out of the position, uncaring of how much morning dew could be on the grass directly outside of the blaze hut/shelter he had made in a panic. Morning dew… His eyes shot wide open. “Dream!” He pulled himself upright, entire body tingling. Tingling? Why was he tingling? He didn’t know, didn’t care. (Later on, the dew he rolled in may end up not being as insignificant as he thought. But he didn’t know that then.) He ran over the Prime path, carefully avoiding any random puddles that pooled like little miniature lakes in the divots of the dented wood.

The smell of spring greeted his nose as he ran. The sweet-itchy scent of flowers in full bloom was present in the cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells. At one point, a certain pollen-filled flower from the Egg caused him to set a small tree on fire, forcing him to slow down and put out the fire before it made too much of an ashy mess on Hannah’s property. Nevertheless, the blaze hybrid ran on, determined to find (and catch) his buddy in the act of being relatively indecent. He was already snickering at the idea.

The amount of blackmail he could get in one awkward moment between the two obviously dating lovebirds? Astounding.

He weaved through the bamboo nearby to get to the community house. His footsteps made dull thunks as he leaped from place to place, eager to catch Dream in the act. A door slammed open. “Dream! I got you-” Dream and George were, unfortunately for him, not sitting on the crafting table. No, they were doing something much worse. “Is that...a spray bottle? Full of water?” George and Dream fumbled for their mask and googles respectively. “Uhhh…” “Certainly not, no way! Haha…”

Sapnap placed his hands on his hips like a disapproving parent, tutting softly. “Seriously, you left me out in the rain to ambush me?” Prime Almighty, you guys are the worst!” Dream glanced to the side, flushing slightly. “Well, we weren’t trying to ambush you, we were just, uh-” George’s voice reverberated slightly to his left, causing him to turn to look at him. Red-orange eyes glared fiery wrath at the blue-clad man. “We were just organizing the chests. We lost track. Sorry.” Sapnap’s spaded tail lashed in anger. “Lost track of time? Organizing chests?!?! What kind of chests take all night to organize!?!” He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting as a child does when they don’t get their way. An amused huff escaped George. “Sapnap, don’t worry. You seemed fine when we came over. Besides, we wanted to test something out on you.”

The blaze opened one eye to look at him. “Test? Test what?” George smirked slightly. “Just a little something. We heard that only heavy water hurts you. So…” He trailed off, glancing at his taller friend expectantly. Dream stood up a little straighter, grateful for his intervention. “We decided to see how sensitive you would get if we spritzed you with a water bottle when you woke up.” Sapnap opened his eyes fully. His countenance softened from outright angered to annoyed as he processed their words. As he slowly understood their, -albeit, still rather foolish- thought process, he nodded.

“Humph, fine.” The duo’s shoulders sagged downwards in relief. “But, you have to admit, leaving me out in the fucking cold all night for your bullshit is definitely not the best decision you’ve made, you hoglin-birthed idiots.” Dream’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. He stuttered over his words, fumbling with the white and black spray bottle as he spoke. “W-well, I mean, do y-you w-ant to test the theory out now?” He grabbed his mask and swiftly put it on with one hand, relaxing almost immediately. “Shall we?” Sapnap nodded, teeth snagging on his lips as he smiled. One thing he could never, ever replicate without his cryptic friend is the way he could morph into someone completely different with his trusty mask on. It was a party trick that never got old- and almost always won the trio a hefty amount of gold and valuables from friend and foe alike.

He took a few steps forward, glancing at the spray bottle with a small amount of trepidation. Small flurries of anxiety flitted to and fro in his mind. ‘What if it sprays wrongly and it burns me?’ ‘What if they just want me dead, and this is the best way to do it? Nobody’s ever seen a water-burned body after death!’ He tried to shoo the bad thoughts away. ‘No, no! These are my friends, my very best friends. They wouldn’t kill me just like that.’ He glanced over to George, who was slowly moving to Dream’s side of the room. As he moved, Sapnap got a much better look at his ‘refined’ hunter ally. As he took in more and more details of his friend’s state, it became more and more clear that they were doing much, much more than just organizing the community chests. His usually perfectly groomed hair was mussed up, gel making his hair go absolutely askew from its normal, streamlined appearance. His shirt was slightly off and most definitely inside out, judging from the way the tags stuck out to the side.

He suppressed a snicker at the way he looked, earning a slightly cold glance from the goggle-wearing man. George held out his hand, fingers wiggling in a come here gesture. Dream complied, walking over and placing the spray bottle in his hands, before carefully grabbing Sapnap’s arm and leading him over to the nearest bed. Sapnap laid in the bed willingly, only stopping to look at Dream and George and wiggle his eyebrows to get a soft blush and a rough shove from the unmasked of the two. Sapnap, face down on the pillows, turned his head slightly to get a better look at the two men’s figures. “Okay, so what next, geniuses?” The sound of the bottle spraying and the sensation of mist landing on his back made his eyes widen. “Wait, what are you-”

A warm, rough hand traced a small circle on the meat of his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Another hand pulled the back of his shirt up. The next round of mist landed on his bare skin. The soft hissing started up again. Soft, gentle tingles erupted from his back. He tried to get up a little, but the hand kept him firmly pinned to the soft confines of the bed. “Don’t move, Sap. We need to get some research in.” A single finger traced a small scar on his back, making him stifle a giggle. “If this kind of mist doesn’t do anything dangerous to your body, what does it do?” Another finger joined the first, and suddenly the pattern on the pillow looked awfully interesting. Sapnap bit his lip, struggling to keep the laughter encased in his chest. “Sap? You’re awfully quiet. Is this hurting you?” The genuine concern in Dream’s voice reminded him of his obligation to answer based off of the ‘testing’ they were doing. After all, they certainly didn’t know what they were doing to him, were they? Sapnap opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a stream of honey-sweet giggles.

George and Dream exchanged glances. Dream’s concern melted into curiosity and a slight hint of mischief. “Ohh, so that’s why you avoid water at all costs. Because if you so much as gently touch it…” He wiggled a finger over his shoulder blades, making the blaze underneath him shudder. “It would completely undo your fiery attitude. Speaking of fiery attitude..where’s your usual sass?” Sapnap tried to turn his head to look at Dream. “Ihihit’s stihill here, yohou dihihpshit!”

George raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Oh? He definitely needs to watch his mouth. After all, he’s the one at our mercy right now.” To prove his point, George sprayed another round of mist onto the blaze. As the soft water droplets landed on his skin, the feeling of Dream’s hand fluttering over his back increased tenfold. The blaze squirmed away from his hand, giggling like mad. “Nohoho! Guhuhuys, cuhuhut ihihit ohohut!” “Aww, coochie coo Sappy! Who’s our little ticklish blaze? Oh, you are!” Dream cooed, suddenly feeling the urge to take off his mask and grin full force at the twitching hybrid below him. Sapnap’s tail curled around his hand, twitching every once in a while. “Nohoho, dohohn’t bahahaby tahahalk!”

George seized the moment, grabbing the flat part of his tail and scribbling his nails lightly over its surface. His reaction was instantaneous. He bucked his hips, frantically trying to escape his friend’s clutches. “Ehaha! Gehehe-HEAHAHA!” The sensations sparked through his spine at the same time the now-familiar sound of the spritzer bottle hit his ears. “NAHAHAT THEHE- THEHE TAHAHAI-” A loud squeal cut off his words as George decided to change his technique from mild scratching to semi-firm rubbing. Dream, absolutely charmed by the sound of his blaze friend’s laughter, continued to explore the scars on his back, dewy from the misting that George was periodically giving it. The masked man found a particular spot at the base of his collarbones. Grinning, he turned to look at George, then back at Sapnap. “Oh Sapnap~ I think I know how to expose your wings~”

Sapnap’s blood ran cold. He squirmed even more than before, struggling to escape (but not genuinely. All of them knew he could just throw him off at a moment’s notice). Dream thumbed the base of his shoulder blades, carefully rubbing at them so as to not cause any bodily harm to the fragile items. With great care, he scratched at the nubs barely protruding out of his back, waiting for the telltale sound of nether magic. He stepped back a little, allowing his friend’s wings to unfurl. George, being the person that he is, decided that Sapnap didn’t need that much of a break. He dug his fingers into the leather of his tail, scratching roughly there.

Sapnap howled with laughter, his tail twitching in George’s grasp so quickly it would have escaped from his grasp hadn’t George had the sensibility to wrap an extra coil of his tail around his wrist. Dream winced in sympathy. “Ooh, that must feel really, really bad….” George scoffed, inaudible to everyone but him. “Tch. Seriously? We can’t be all empathetic in the middle of an experiment, Dream. We need to stay calm. How in the world are we going to get results if you slow down?” Hesitantly, as if waiting for Sapnap’s cue, Dream grabbed at the crook of his close friend’s wing. He coasted his free hand over the held wing’s thin, sensitive membranes, equally enjoying and besmirching the twitching and squirming of the appendage. If Sapnap was in ticklish agony earlier, this was some new form of torture that he could never have dreamed of.

All the same, he refused to pull his wing or tail away, enjoying the electric-hot sensation zipping through every single one of his nerves. At this point, he couldn’t form words or sentences long enough to explain his feelings. Every time he tried to speak, all that came out were shrieks and inhuman noises as his tail wiggled in George’s grasp from the intense attention. His wing was more manageable...barely. Dream wasn’t actively trying to get him to tap out, but the sensations coursing through his veins still caused him to twist and turn in his grasp. “CAHAHAT IHIHAHA- AHAHA! NAHAHA!”

A particularly high-pitched squeak escaped his lips as another round of water landed on his extraneous limbs. “NAHAHA- MAHAH- GEHAHA!” Dream smiled fondly at his friend, fluttering his fingers over any spots that made Sapnap’s breath hitch for a moment too long. Even George began to sway over to the cackling blaze’s side, a small quirk to his lips being the only sign of being charmed. Eyes flicking to the soft, fluffy base of the man’s tail, George could immediately see that his little subject was beginning to tire. The twitching of both limbs had slowed down to a few twitches here and there, and the poor man’s laughter was dwindling down to silent laughter and small little wheezes when he could inhale long enough to oxygenate his lightheaded consciousness. It was all Sapnap could do to keep from passing out from the rough tickling at this point. His eyes felt like lead weights had melted and hardened over his eyelashes.

Even his tail, the most lightweight part of his body, felt like solid metal to move save from the involuntary twitches from the almost overwhelming stimulation. Sapnap tried to grab at Dream’s sleeve weakly, tugging at the fabric as well as he could from his position. George and Dream shared a look. Brown met green through the eye holes of the porcelain mask. Dream unpinned the wheezing hybrid quickly. George, picking up the slack, gently nudged the limp warrior with one hand. “Sapnap..?” Sapnap made no effort to answer. A small sigh.

With a few deft movements, George freed his spaded tail, which flopped limply to the wooden floor. George tried again. “Sapnap.” This time, the man answered with a noncommittal “Mmm…I don’t think I can get up.” The blue-clad man rolled his eyes dramatically. “We weren’t even trying that hard, you drama king. Precious Prime.” Sapnap shot back with a little hint of heat behind his words, “Well, sorry, Mr. Pretty Princess. You don’t get just how much more sensitive I get from that stupid shit. I thought you guys would let up after I stopped breathing right!” His tail lashed slightly, rooting for any sign of George.

Dream held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Look, guys, I’m sure we can solve this later. Sap, can you get up?” He didn’t even try to move. “I don’t think I could move if the lives of my husbands were in jeopardy.” The masked man giggled softly, holding a hand up to his mouth to hide his smile. “Okay, well, you can lay there for a while longer. I think George and I may want to finish the chest-sorting we were doing earlier. Sapnap snuggled into the pillow more, smushing his face against the soft fabric and drying some of his still-fresh tears. When did he cry? He didn’t remember, he didn’t care. All he knew was that he was happy, and he felt loved… wait. “Chest sorting? You guys weren’t actually chest-sorting, were you?”

The sound of nervous laughter echoed in the house. Sapnap huffed into the pillow. “So you guys really did leave me in the rain to fuck? You guys suck so hard.”

“Of course Dream sucks, what else would he-”

“Prime, George! Don’t say that!”

“What? Worried he might think you're a bottom?”

“I’m not!”

“Oh yes you are~”

Sapnap decided that the pillows would be a much better pair of earmuffs than his hands.

#Downy writes #My fics #my writing #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!sapnap #ler!dream #ler!george #i am tired lmao #and sorry for the long waits in between #Lol #sfw tickling

[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 5/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two:  The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Part Three: The Fall of Lotus Pier and the Sunshot Campaign

Part Four: The Downward Spiral

Part Five: Mo Manor, Hungry Sabers, and Yi City

Ext, Mo Manor [I … actually have no idea where this is geographically.]

16 years have passed. A mysterious guy whose face we don’t see sits in an inn while a dude enthusiastically tells stories about the horrible Yiling Patriarch (Wei Wuxian’s title before he died.)

Wei Wuxian wakes up. He is confused, as dead people tend to be upon waking up.

ENTER A MENTALLY ILL CHARACTER WHO DESERVED BETTER

He hears the voice of Mo Xuanyu, telling him that he had no choice but to summon him, and now Wei Wuxian must take revenge for him. He has four curse marks on his arm, one for each target.

A sidebar: in the book, Wei Wuxian is summoned into Mo Xuanyu’s body, which makes way more sense. In the show, however, they didn’t really want to change actors halfway through, which I dig, so he’s in his own body for Reasons Never Made Clear. Because of this, they give him a metal mask to wear, saying Mo Xuanyu was a weirdo who wore a mask all the time and nobody has seen his face in years. We all love Xiao Zhan and don’t want him replaced so we accept this.

ENTER THE DUCKLINGS

Here are two young cultivators from the Lan sect, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. The former is sweet and kind, the latter is ‘fight me’ in a fun way. 

Wei Wuxian has no idea what’s going on but decides it’s time to Cause Problems. He figures out that Mo Xuanyu is yet another one of Jin Guangshan’s illegitimate sons. However, Mo Xuanyu’s mother was a member of the gentry, so he got to study at Koi Tower until he got thrown out for unspecified bad behavior. Everyone says that Mo Xuanyu was a lunatic. 

Wei Wuxian meets the Lan ducklings, has flashbacks to Lan Wangji, and decides to hide in his room and play sad music on a blade of grass.

An angry sword spirit shows up and kills a bunch of people. The ducklings call Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian hides before he can be seen. Lan Wangji wraps everything up and subdues the angry sword spirit but doesn’t know what’s going on.

Three of the four curse marks on Wei Wuxian’s arm vanish, indicating that the three members of the Mo family who were killed were three of the four targets of revenge. Wei Wuxian steals a donkey and runs away.

The mystery man from earlier throws a chunk of gold to the storyteller.

Ext, Dafan Mountain [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian argues with his donkey a lot, and it’s pretty funny.

ENTER A TRUST FUND BRAT

Jin Ling is now 16. He is a huge brat and we like him anyway. Given that he was raised mostly by Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng, he’s actually more well-adjusted than he has any right to be. Of course, the bar for ‘well-adjusted’ in this show is sitting on the ground (and half the characters have gone to get shovels). Jin Ling has set up a bunch of spirit capture nets in the forest, and they capture a bunch of cultivators instead. Wei Wuxian cuts them down, and he and Jin Ling get in a fight. (Wei Wuxian doesn’t know who he is, because why would he?)

Wei Wuxian calls him a little punk and pins him to the ground with a talisman. Jiang Cheng shows up and is pissed. Wei Wuxian runs away again.

Turns out everyone is there for some sort of night hunt. Lan Wangji and the ducklings show up. Lan Wangji is a petty bitch who no longer speaks to Jiang Cheng, and it’s great. He’s destroyed all the spirit nets Jin Ling placed for pretty much no reason other than that he can. Jin Ling is pissed. Lan Wangji puts the silencing spell on him because he’s being a brat. Jiang Cheng decides this isn’t worth getting into a bitch fight with Lan Wangji over and huffs off with Jin Ling.

They all end up at the mountain where the statue from the first arc was. It’s eating people again, or something like that. Wei Wuxian talks to the ducklings, who listen to him because he helped them with the sword spirit at Mo Manor. 

The statue attacks, and it’s chaos! Wei Wuxian decides that now is the time for some demonic cultivation. He starts playing a new flute (poorly, because he just carved it out of nearby bamboo). Wen Ning shows up. Everyone, including me, goes “WTF?!?!” because we all thought Wen Ning had been destroyed by the Jin sect.

Wei Wuxian realizes this is more trouble than he can handle and uses his flute to get Wen Ning to leave. But it’s too late. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng have seen him. Lan Wangji grabs his wrist. They stare at each other for like a solid 30 seconds and it’s great.

Then Jiang Cheng ruins everything, because he assumes (correctly) that someone playing the flute and controlling Wen Ning is, in fact, Wei Wuxian. He hits Wei Wuxian with the lightning whip. A fun feature of the lightning whip is that, if an evil spirit is possessing someone, the whip will smack them out of the body. This doesn’t happen to Wei Wuxian, since he was summoned by Mo Xuanyu himself. Jiang Cheng gets a little confused by this and Lan Wangji takes the opportunity to grab Wei Wuxian and bounce.

 Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wei Wuxian wakes up in Lan Wangji’s room. He says, ‘if I said I didn’t know where I was these past 16 years, would you believe me?’ and Lan Wangji says ‘yes’ without hesitation. I cry again.

 Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Lan Wangji is down in the cold springs. Wei Wuxian decides, like a gremlin, to go bug him there. But he sees Lan Wangji shirtless and he’s got a bunch of scars and it freaks Wei Wuxian out so he doesn’t hit on him.

Lan Qiren has been trying to suppress the sword spirit but it attacks him. Wei Wuxian plays his flute (badly) and the ducklings all wonder why the hell he’s even here. They figure out the sword spirit is trying to lead them somewhere.

 Ext, Yueyang [Qinghe]

The sword has pointed them here and strange things are afoot. Wei Wuxian asks a guy if there’s some reason the sect leader isn’t taking care of it. He finds out that Nie Mingjue died in the intervening years while he was gone, and that Nie Huaisang is now sect leader and keeps telling people to please not ask him to fix problems because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Nie Huaisang remains the most relatable.

They run into Jin Ling, who’s there with his adorable dog for night-hunting reasons. Wei Wuxian freaks out because he’s afraid of dogs. Lan Wangji leaps in to defend him and Jin Ling looks like he just found out gay people exist.

 Ext, the forest [Qinghe]

There’s a weird tomb full of coffins with sabers in them. Jin Ling has broken in and nearly gets swallowed by the building. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian rescue him. He now has a gnarly curse mark on his leg. When they get outside, someone’s been watching them. Lan Wangji goes after him while Wei Wuxian gets Jin Ling back to the city. Lan Wangji only gets a scrap of fabric but recognizes the pattern.

 Int, an inn [Qinghe]

Jin Ling freaks out when he wakes up because he thinks Mo Xuanyu is nuts. (One must presume he knows Mo Xuanyu better than the ducklings, since Mo Xuanyu is technically his uncle, and Jin Ling lives at Koi Tower a lot of the time so they would have encountered each other.) Wei Wuxian lets him go.

 Int, a different inn [presumably] [Qinghe]

Lan Wangji has dragged Nie Huaisang in for a little chat, because he knows Nie Huaisang was spying on them in the forest. Nie Huaisang tries to plead ignorance but then admits that the Nie sect has this problem where their swords are so bloodthirsty that they have to be buried like people and fed criminals occasionally, like one would if they had a particularly large python for a pet. Wei Wuxian clearly wonders how, in that case, they had any right to criticize him for a little light necromancy.

 Ext, Yueyang [Qinghe]

Lan Wangji leaves to … shit. I don’t remember. Well, he goes to do something, presumably important, leaving Wei Wuxian on his own. Wei Wuxian promptly gets spotted by Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, and Jiang Cheng captures him. He says he doesn’t care that the lightning whip didn’t expel him, he knows he’s Wei Wuxian. He’s super pissed but doesn’t actually kill Wei Wuxian or even really hurt him, clearly conflicted about the whole situation.

Jin Ling suddenly ‘remembers’ important information about something that happened earlier to send Jiang Cheng on a wild goose chase. It’s likely that Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually believe this but he leaves anyway. Jin Ling sneaks Wei Wuxian out. Wei Wuxian tells him he’ll be in trouble because Jiang Cheng thinks he’s the Yiling Patriarch. Jin Ling scoffs because Jiang Cheng is always finding ‘Yiling Patriarchs’ in an ongoing search to find his brother.

Once in the forest, Wei Wuxian knocks Jin Ling out. He then transfers the curse mark from Jin Ling to himself because sixteen years of being dead didn’t teach him any self-preservation skills at all. 

 Int, the spirit-eating saber tomb [Qinghe]

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian bring the sword spirit to the tomb. It tells them they did a good job and then points them somewhere else, like some sort of spiritual scavenger hunt or an extremely intense game of Where in the World is Carmen San Diego. They theorize that the sword spirit is probably Baxia, Nie Mingjue’s sword, and it’s trying to lead them to wherever his body is. Nie Huaisang looks pretty upset about this, which seems reasonable. Our heroes promise him they’ll figure out what’s going on and return his brother’s body to him if possible.

Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxian more details on Nie Mingjue’s death. The Nie sect has a history of ‘qi deviation’, which is sort of like a magical backlash. This is, they now figure, likely due to struggling to control these violent saber spirits. Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were both working to try to help Nie Mingjue avoid qi deviation but failed, and he had a violent fit, ran away, and was never seen again.

 Ext, Yueyang [Qinghe]

Continuing in the vein of ‘shit, a lot happened while you were dead’, Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian that Xue Yang turned up a little while afterwards and Jin Guangshan made him a member of the Jin sect. Nie Mingjue wanted him executed for the murder of the Chang clan, but the lone survivor suddenly recanted his testimony, and not long after that, Nie Mingjue died/went missing. Xue Yang ended up in a pretty good spot. Wei Wuxian basically says ‘what a world’ and Lan Wangji takes his drink and knocks it back.

By the way, Jin Guangshan is now dead too, having died ‘in bed’ a little while after Nie Mingjue disappeared. I can’t remember when Wei Wuxian finds that out. But good riddance anyway.

Now drunk after one shot, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have a touching moment or twelve. Lan Wangji admits that he regrets not helping Wei Wuxian in his last life, and Wei Wuxian tells him not to worry about it. After Lan Wangji falls asleep, Wei Wuxian goes outside and uses his new flute (which Lan Wangji has fixed up a bit) to summon Wen Ning. He finds that they’ve put nails in his head to suppress his consciousness, and removes them. They reunite and it’s emotional. 

But before much can happen, Lan Wangji wanders drunkenly from the inn. Wen Ning goes to hide, and Wei Wuxian ends up babysitting drunk Lan Wangji again and it’s hilarious. Drunk Lan Wangji tries to steal chickens for him and also graffitis a random house. 

When they get back to the inn, a masked man shows up and tries to steal the sword spirit. Even black-out drunk, Lan Wangji beats him, but he seems to have inside knowledge of the Lan sect fighting style. Then he uses a teleportation talisman, which hardly anybody has the skill to use.

 Ext, Yi City [Hell, as far as I can tell]

Listen. I’m going to be honest with y’all again. This arc messed me up. I have no desire to revisit it in detail and it virtually never comes up in my fics. So I’m going to be very, very brief here.

Xue Yang tricked Xiao Xingchen into killing a bunch of innocent people, including Song Lan, who is now a fierce corpse under Xue Yang’s control. Xiao Xingchen found out what happened and killed himself. Xue Yang freaked out because he either a) actually loved Xiao Xingchen in his own messed up way, or b) was having a tantrum like a little kid who broke their favorite toy by playing too rough with it. Your mileage may vary and a thousand fanfics have been written about this issue. Since then, he’s been hanging out in Yi City, which is full of dead people and poison.

The really important part is that Xue Yang has been using yin iron to do all this stuff. 

The ducklings followed a bunch of clues here, along with Jin Ling. Wei Wuxian herds them around while Lan Wangji fights Xue Yang and eventually kills him. The same masked man shows up, grabs the yin iron off Xue Yang’s dead body, and teleports again.

They find a headless body in a coffin underneath Xiao Xingchen’s, and the sword spirit reveals itself to be Baxia, indicating that it is indeed Nie Mingjue. Song Lan, now released from Xue Yang’s control, takes Xiao Xingchen’s sword and a spirit pouch with his fragmented soul and goes to be a wandering cultivator. It’s really depressing.

  Ext, some city [I don’t remember]

Everyone’s kind of shell-shocked by the fuckery that was Yi City, so they’re trying to chill out. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have a tender moment watching the juniors shopping. Wei Wuxian says, ‘If A-Yuan had lived, he’d be about their age now.’ Lan Wangji looks at him like he just realized he left the stove on. Meanwhile Lan Sizhui is fascinated by a stand selling toys just like ones Wen Yuan had at the Burial Mounds. Hm …

Lan Xichen has arrived. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji show him Baxia and he’s really sad since he and Nie Mingjue were bros. Wei Wuxian (still pretending to be Mo Xuanyu) says that at this point, they know whoever killed Nie Mingjue and hid his body is a) friends with Xue Yang, and b) familiar with the Lan sect fighting style. He points out that this sounds a lot like Jin Guangyao, who had a ‘complicated history’ with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Xichen says it can’t be Jin Guangyao, because Jin Guangyao has been with him every night talking about important matters for the last week or so. Also, the use of the teleportation talisman has a negative effect on one’s health and he can personally attest that Jin Guangyao shows no signs of having used it. Another two thousand fanfics spring into existence.

At the end of the conversation, he calls Wei Wuxian by his name. Wei Wuxian takes off his mask and says ‘Damn, I should’ve known I couldn’t fool you.’ Lan Xichen pulls that whole ‘oh I didn’t actually know until you confirmed it just now’ trick but let’s be real there is absolutely no idea Lan Xichen didn’t already know, given that his brother has only ever tolerated one (1) person in his entire life.

 Int, the inn [wherever they are]

The ducklings are fighting, mostly because Jin Ling is mad that Lan Sizhui said something halfway complimentary about Wei Wuxian, who he hates for killing his father (and causing his mother’s death). The other ducklings are like “bro, chill”. Jin Ling will not chill. Jin Ling will NEVER chill. Wei Wuxian is sad because his nephew hates him.

Lan Sizhui tries to explain that he only meant maybe they should have all the facts before they condemn someone. Jin Ling continues to not be chill. Lan Wangji buys Wei Wuxian some booze to cheer him up.

Despite Lan Xichen’s words, they’re still convinced Jin Guangyao is involved, and make plans to go to Koi Tower and look for Nie Mingjue’s head. Lan Xichen comes back in and tells them he’s thought about it and if they find evidence, they should bring it to him. They agree.

 ~end of part 5~

#gonna try and finish this up this weekend! #liveblog #the untamed

[ozarkhealingtraditions]

Animism and Environmental Protection

More articles on my website! 

Animism lies at the heart of Ozark folk belief, although it’s a modern word you probably won’t hear many of the old timers using. In the mountains, this worldview manifests as a deep connection to the land, in particular the local bioregions that surround the individual and community. Old trees, caverns, natural springs, rivers, etc. are viewed not as lifeless land features, but rather as unique personalities with their own lifecycles and souls. Solitary trees in fields are often said to be protected by the “Little People” or Ozark land spirits, akin to the fairies from across the Celtic world, brought to these lands in the hearts of believers. Old growth trees hold their own roles within the spiritual hierarchy and often go by the names of “grandpa” or “grandma.” Natural springs were at one time fiercely protected by hillfolk because of their life-giving waters, used not only to sustain the body but also as sources of spiritual cleansing and healing. Legends and folktales abound about the invisible owners of certain caverns or large boulders that often stand out against the wash of the forest landscape.

Traditional views toward appeasing the land spirits is often simplified to maintaining a good relationship with these otherworldly inhabitants. Protecting and maintaining springs or allowing certain parts of the forest to remain wild are just a couple examples of this important take on environmental protection. A good balance with the natural world was at one time integral to not only the physical survival of hillfolk, but also a means to ensure good spiritual health for the community. This is an equilibrium lost to many modern inhabitants of the Ozarks with more and more reliance shifting off the land itself and onto local grocery stores, city water, and the pharmacy. For many though, this balance is still seen as a part of the Ozark identity. I myself have encountered many old timers who still give offerings of food, smoke, water, and other traditional items to these places of power in order to keep this tapestry of life intact.

This relationship with the land has birthed many traditions of environmental protection amongst those still living closely with the plants and animals of the mountains. It’s a culture rooted in the views of animism, which sees everything in the natural world as possessing its own unique identity. As opposed to many pantheistic worldviews, animism is deeply connected to the spirits of the local landscape as opposed to “higher” beings like gods and goddesses. The spirit of a mountain spring is then unique amongst other entities that might surround it. These guardians are often said to have had their own births at one time in the ancient past. Likewise, they aren’t always considered immortal. The destruction of these places of power then means the death of the individual spirit itself.

On one of my travels, I met an old man who was still shaken by the removal of a huge boulder near his home to make way for a modern road nearly thirty years before my arrival. His family had been on their land for several generations and recalled to mind many of their folktales about the spirits or Little People who had their villages inside the rock itself. It was common knowledge to the local community that disrespecting the rock would bring a curse not only upon the individual themselves, but also their family. This spiritual affliction would manifest as strange illnesses without any physical cure, and it was said the only remedy was apologizing to the Little People and making amends with certain food offerings. In a particularly sad part of our conversation, the old man said when the road crew removed and destroyed the boulder it sent a shockwave through his family. They themselves didn’t see any curses from the removal but he reckoned anyone who was a part of the work had. I asked him what he thought might have happened to the villages displaced by the act and he just shook his head saying, “When something like that happens, they’re [Little People] killed off…they can’t survive outside their homes.” In his words, this act was akin to genocide. It was almost as if members of his own family had been taken away to a very uncertain future.

This was by no means an isolated story and I’ve encountered many people, old timers and young folk alike across the Ozarks with similar tales of cutting down old growth forests, plugging up springs, and more. One woman I met said her family protected an old patch of ginseng near their family home for many generations. “Probably the last one around these parts,” she told me. Because the patch wasn’t on their land, they were unable to protect it from eventual clearing for new construction as the local town expanded. She still cursed the name of the developer, although he’d been dead for years. According to her, the ginseng had put a curse on his family for their disrespect. She said shortly after the houses were built, they had trouble with fires and power outages limited only to that spot. In addition, she said the developer’s family all became “sickly,” and eventually moved away from the area. Whether this tale was true or not, I don’t know, but there were others in the area with similar anecdotes about the situation.

When viewed in these terms, protecting the local environment takes on a very different life from simple ecology. The land is protected not just because of the vital food, water, and medicine it might provide, but because the spirits of the land become members of the family or clan itself. The same respect is shown to these invisible members of the community as it is to the living. Just like a person wouldn’t bulldozer over someone’s house, rip out a home garden, or poison a well, the land spirits are respected and left to their own lives and communities. Maintaining this equilibrium with the natural world then recognizes the vital importance the land has to offer to all those living there.

This belief has been such an important part of the Ozark worldview not just here on colonized land, but it stretches back to our ancient ancestors who didn’t see themselves as being separate or above the natural world but as just another link in the chain. The spirits of the land are important because they’re seen as being individual entities with their own stories, wisdom, and magic to offer. Just like when we lose our own tales, remedies, and other traditional knowledge with the passing of the older generations, never to regain them again, how much have we lost from ignoring the spirits of the land? How many grandpas and grandmas have been lost to us by being thrown into the gears of materialism and so-called progress?

For many people today, this animistic worldview is foreign to our modern mindset. Protecting the environment is left to those struggling in the Amazon rainforests, or those fighting for their rights to clean sources of water. We somehow see ourselves as too forgone, perhaps, or wholly apart from the problem. And meanwhile, our mountains are being leveled for new cookie-cutter housing subdivisions, forests uprooted to make straighter roads, and native prairies dug up and replaced with invasive ornamental plants not suited to our climate and local wildlife. Working towards healing this equilibrium starts with you and your home. Here are some other ways you can help protect the land.

Instead of planting invasive ornamentals like privet, bush honeysuckle, nandina, or bamboo, consult local nurseries that specialize in native alternatives. In many cases, native varieties of plants have much more to offer. They are usually better suited to our climate, require less water, and provide a plentiful source of food for both pollinators and birds. They also add to the seedbank of the land. Seeds travel across large stretches of land by air or are carried by local wildlife. Planting with natives ensures the spread of these important species that are too often shaded out and killed by invasive varieties. You can even help out if you’re living in an apartment with little access to the land. Several friends of mine living in apartments have started planting native flowers in pots on their balconies to attract local pollinators. Many of these wildflowers are also edible and used in traditional Ozark medicines.

Reconsider removing large trees on your property and instead try and maintain them by trimming properly.

Spay and neuter your outdoor cats and participate in local programs to catch and release feral cats. Along with deforestation, outdoor cats are the number one source of native songbird loss here in the Ozarks.

Consider volunteering with groups who help to return natural areas to a more sustainable system. There are several here in Northwest Arkansas who go out to the local trails at certain times of the year and pull out invasive plant species that are killing out the native varieties. If you don’t have a group around you, consider starting one! Consult your local extension office for guides to invasive plants affecting the area.

Protect springs and other natural water sources by volunteering to clean up trash around the area. If you’re unsure of how to clean and maintain natural springs on your own property, contact your local extension office.

Honor the spirits of old trees, springs, and mountains with traditional Ozark offerings of loose tobacco, cornmeal, beans, milk, and water.

Many of these suggestions are doable not only for people who own land but even for those living in apartments or on small lots. Whether you’re someone interested in animism as a worldview, an environmental protection advocate, or even someone who doesn’t really like going outside, it’s important to reconsider your own relationship to the land and help out where you feel comfortable. Extreme actions like chaining yourself to an old growth tree about to be removed aren’t required for caring about the natural world around you.

#ozarks #folk magic #traditional witchcraft #witchcraft #herbalism #ozark folk medicine #Ozark Folklore #ozark magic #ozark folk magic #traditional medicine #traditional healing #ecology #animism #ozark healing traditions

[liesfallaciesfabrications]

Mr. Queen Analysis

My take on the rather heartbreaking and vague ending of the KDrama, Mr. Queen.

  Okay, I’ve been thinking long and hard on this subject (way too much) and have come to the following consensus:

Bong-Hwan and So Yong are both versions of the same soul. What got me thinking about this was that scene in episode 5 where SoBong talks about original and past lives but then mentions parallel time-streams. To illustrate, she draws two lines running side by side and explains how a past life can be in one and the original/current being in the other. This had me stumped a bit, and I thought it a bit random that they put that in there, but then I looked up “reincarnation and parallel lives” and there’s a surprising number of articles on it - though obviously not conclusive or scientific as it involves spirituality. 

Episode 5 also explains why time in the present is flowing at the same rate as the past, which we discovered when BH’s consciousness briefly reentered his body and explain why they chose to reveal that fact. Time isn’t linear here but more fluid with both versions existing simultaneously - harkening back to the two lines Mr. Queen drew to illustrate.

The reincarnation theory would explain many of the elements of the story that I found hard to accept. For example:

If So Yong’s separate soul was in there with Bong Hwan’s soul then why did he never feel her? In fact, the show repeatedly makes reference to the idea that Bong Hwan does not feel another soul and attributes characteristics of SY to the body (telling her after the kiss that the soul is in control of the body so she ought to behave and in another scene he tries to get her soul to return by addressing the lake - where he believes she is hiding).  The only time he accuses her of being a separate entity inside of him is when he wants an excuse for his feelings and reactions to CJ. The “it must have been her that took control. If I knew it was CJ I would have....still enjoyed it?!? What’s wrong with me?” moments. LOL What if the reason he couldn’t feel another presence was because there wasn’t another? He merely had his consciousness wake up in the body of his past life but didn’t realize it.

It would explain the gradual integration of both personalities. For example, when CJ returns the book to Mr. Queen, she never thinks of herself as NOT being the girl from the well as she did when he first confesses his love for her at the lake. As BH spends more time in her previous body, the lines become more blurred not just in memory but also in identity because he IS her. If they were two separate souls, I don’t think she would have that same reaction nor do I see anything to indicate that So Yong “took over” in that moment or any other. Memories were accessed, personality traits were mingling, but we saw SY come out in episode 20...that personality was immediately recognizable. Fantastic acting by SHS - especially as she had me loving the one and hating the other, despite being both.

It would explain why Mr. Queen falls for CJ so hard, despite his initial protests. I never liked the idea of his feelings being manipulated, but I can get on board with the idea that he accepts his feelings for CJ because this is a man that some part of him has always loved - and falls in love with “again” through their shared experiences and journey.

It would also explain the question of why Bong Hwan. What was the connection between this man and So Yong? They are reincarnations of each other. When So Yong was feeling hopeless and needed strength, she pulled upon her stronger version of herself to help her - made possible in that moment when she desperately wanted to give up on life and he desperately wanted to live. She came to him in that pool and appeared to the queen again when she was looking for answers in the lake. This does not give the impression of a soul cruelly imprisoned in her own body against her will. 

It would also explain why, when Bong Hwan briefly went back to his body, So Yong did not reappear. She wasn’t being suppressed. She purposefully had her reincarnated self come to give her strength and was not ready at that time to assume her life again. I found her choice of words at Byeong-In’s grave to to be telling. She said he always knew where to find her whenever she was hiding. It’s also why I believe BI didn’t realize Mr. Queen wasn’t SY - for the same reason CJ doesn’t at the end of the drama. These two men, both of whom deeply love her, could sense it was her, just in reverse order. CJ-SB-SY and BI-SY-SB.

It would also solve the pesky issue of why BH is an overall better person - not just at the moment of his return but before. Someone on Reddit mentioned the implausibility of CJ’s political accomplishments causing a ripple effect to change BH, and I agree. However, if we look at BH as SY’s reincarnation, then the positive attributes he now displays in the altered timeline can be accounted for because he prevented his previous incarnation from killing herself, therefore in his next lifetime his soul didn’t carry those grudges. This fits with the idea of reincarnation as a person’s life experiences and emotions/grudges/regrets/mindset at death will determine the psychological and even physical manifestation of their next life. 

SY was told by evil Kim that she had no power b/c she was a woman - next life is a man. 

SY had her love cruelly rejected - next life is a playboy who doesn’t seem to believe in love. 

SY felt that she was living a lie - next life is a man who doesn’t care who he offends with his opinion and does what he wants when he wants - to the point of selfishness - though this changes when he prevents many of these resentments by his actions in the past. 

Finally, it would explain why CJ is so “oblivious” at end of the show. He promised when he returned the book to SB that he would never fail to recognize her, and he doesn’t. While her personality has changed, it’s intrinsically also the same person, though this is the area I felt the writers dropped the ball in execution, but I get that they were pressed for time. The implications of this aspect also seem to be what KJH meant in his comment to a fan’s question of whether the king knew that BH had left.That it didn’t matter: SY or BH didn’t matter, only how CJ saw her.

So why send BH back? I believe they did it because it wouldn't make sense for him to live a life he essentially already lived as SY. Reincarnation is meant to be for a soul to grow and spiritually evolve, which it could not do by simply repeating what it had already done. Also, for some reason (I suspect so as not to offend Koreans by skipping over one of the most prominent historical figures in their culture - Queen Min), they still have CJ dying at age 32. This can be seen in the book BH is looking at when he's seeing his portrait, and is mentioned as early as episode 1. This was never going to be a happy ending for CJ/BH in the sense that many viewers wanted. Rather, he was going to facilitate the relationship of SY/CJ so that his previous life could run its course...ugh, I feel sick typing that out...with the hope that they meet again in another lifetime. Our SB is many things but trapped in Joseon without modern medicine, a miracle worker she is not. CJ dies without any heirs; his baby with the queen dies at just six months. If the BH decided to stay for love and then lost the baby and CJ, that would be just as heartbreaking for me as the ending I received. 

Wiki and other sources speculate the CJ was poisoned by the Andong Kims, but many historians (including Bong Hwan’s mother, it seems) dispute that fact as it would serve no purpose since he was a puppet king and since his death then allowed the Jo family to briefly take control until King Gojong’s father pretty much crushed both the Kims and the Jos. In reality, he probably died of unhealthy habits and a life of excess. In the show’s world, who knows...cancer or any number of possible illnesses that could not be treated at that time. During the banquet planning, we see CJ suffer a nosebleed. In the spinoff, Mr. Queen mentions how CJ is trying hard not to collapse from the strain of his burdens. These could be hints left by writers to indicate that CJ’s health has been compromised by the grueling struggles and stress he’s had to endure, not to mention allowing himself to get blown up.

They writers did give us the hope for another reunion - perhaps in BH’s lifetime or perhaps another one. It’s why I think they tried to imply a SY/CJ connection in the Bamboo Forest prequel (the only prequel in the spinoff) as well as end Bamboo Forest with a reincarnation wish. The setup seemed quite intentional and in specific order. The prequel created a sense of destiny. The next segment was about Mr. Queen confirming if it was just his body or his soul that was attracted to CJ...literally the words out of the character’s mouth...and they gave an answer to that with the last shot. The final segment introduced the wish for CJ to meet his queen again, and he is clearly thinking of Mr. Queen - so why the prequel, which would seem to introduce a separate love interest, unless it’s actually not because they’re one and the same with the middle segment emphasizing the genuine attraction and love for each other.

This might not be everyone’s cup of tea; it certainly wasn’t mine, and I think the writers should have handled the leaving better instead of going for an quasi mind-wipe of all the characters’ remembrances of Mr. Queen. I mean, CJ went from being horrified at Mr. Queen acting like a perfect little queen for a few seconds a mere handful of episodes ago to just asking "why the formality" at a more permanent display of temperament and seemed practically oblivious otherwise. Then Choi and Yeon were "shocked" when So Yong didn't revert to her witch of the palace act and chastise the maids that were laughing by the pond - as if Mr. Queen didn't already change that way of thinking months ago. Not to mention that they were also nonplussed by the fact that their relationship to the queen had gone from being regarded as family back to a servant/master status quo. Even with the soulmate angle, there was to much deus ex machina thrown in. The idea of soul mates is a romantic one, but the execution of it fell through.

They should have never gone with the reincarnation route, especially if they were never intending to let SY have a true voice in the drama, even if it’s just a final conversation between herself and BH before he leaves, made possible in that split second before true separation. Viewers never got to bond with her, and in those moments we did see her, she was either a watered down version of the personality we were emotionally invested in or emphasized the opposite characteristics (demure, feminine, etc...) that we loved Mr. Queen for rejecting. Also, this angle gives us no true feeling of completeness and satisfaction. SY is with CJ in the past - we won't see them develop their feelings for each other and grow to like them as a couple. BH is in the present but who knows if he'll find CJ's reborn soul and happiness with whoever it is. Promises without fulfillment demand too much from the audience to fill in the blanks. If that's the case, next time just give us a tag line and tell the audience to imagine the rest.

Even if they share the same soul, we are given two distinct personalities and not enough connection between them in terms of their recognizing each other, acknowledging their feelings for CJ to each other in some sort of passing the flame moment that would make it feel more homogeneous and prevent feelings of resentment at what we perceive as an injustice to a personality we adore.

Instead of creating an emotional divide between the two, they should have just have SY die before BH's soul enters, and develop the romance between CJ and HB's as the novel and even that cheap and campy Chinese version did. Having SY there just muddied the waters, and became a distraction and an excuse for every emotional milestone Mr. Queen experienced, negating that character's development and laying it at SY's feet or claims of deliberate interference.

They should have chosen a fictional king and not boxed themselves into a limited outcome. Granted, it gave them a valid reason for booting BH back to present times, but look at the result: limited number of years with someone the audience isn't really familiar with for our beloved ML (plus their baby dies) and a huge question mark for our F-turned back into ML in the present with the hope that maybe the reincarnation thing works in his favor but who knows because they couldn't even toss us that small crumb which would have alleviated some of our heartache for BH as well as give more credence to the fact that SY/BH are the same and thereby lessened the feelings of resentment to the SY character as well. Or they could have gone with a multiverse theory and left it wide open as to what sweeping changes would occur. BH being initially thrown back to the Joseon era as a result of his dying would have achieved that because then the audience would have no reason to revisit the present nor see that the worlds were linked via changes upon his return and stuck with the poisoning threat averted. Blow recorded history to smithereens and leave that to our imagination instead.

Yes, the fish-out-of-water hijinks were great fun, but the completion of the character arcs/relationship/etc...shouldn’t be an afterthought. 

The other element I would have liked to have seen that was in neither of the televised versions (though the Chinese one came very, very close) but was in the web novel is the king fully accepting that his wife is not the woman she was, believing that her previous body was a man, falling in love regardless and she with him. However, I think we all knew that wasn’t going to happen in a kdrama. 

#MrQueen #MrQueenep20 #MrQueenexplained #mrqueenfinale

[missholland]

WangXian VS The World

We all remember the final confrontation with Jin Guangyao happening throughout the final 3 episodes of The Untamed. This is where the biggest secrets were revealed and WWX’s name was officially clear. 

As much as I love watching JGY manipulating everyone with words until his very last breath and Nie Director finally coming out as the ultimate final boss, somehow I was left just a teeny tiny bit underwhelmed. Why? Because this whole arc with so much talking has to follow the incredible confrontation at Burial Mounds arc in episode 44 and 45.

Has this beautiful man ever failed us before?

The Untamed writers are absolute genius in foreshadowing events. The key here is to put episode 44-45 in comparison with what happened in episode 32-33: the infamous bloodbath at Nightless City. Let’s look at the similarities: literally all major clans’ cultivators were in one place together, publicly shitting on WWX without knowing they were all played like ‘puppets’ by JGY, WWX playing flute, LWJ slaying baddies to clear the way for his man. Both times, there were random faces talking about how they hated WWX, prompting our dense-in-love antihero to go ‘Urmm... who da hell are you?’.

Dig a little deeper, back then at Nightless City, WWX was under a lot of influence from Yin Iron and it messed pretty hard with his temperament. Being accused of a bunch of stuff he didn’t do, his response was quite negative - laughing, crying, provoking, actually killing a guard in front of everyone’s eyes. 

16 years later at Burial Mounds, his expression is completely different: calm, clear, challenging others instead of provoking, and let’s not forget his cheeky wit that we all fell in love with!

You’d think ‘Man, only if he did that back then’. Well, if he did, we would not have the latter top-notch 17 episodes to finish the series. He honestly could not anyway, not just because of Yin Iron’s influence, but also having to walk that lonely path alone i.e. WWX vs the world. It’s no longer the case in episode 44, because LOOK AT HOW POWERFUL THIS SCENE IS:

WangXian vs the world, and not even LWJ’s Grand Master could get him back to stand with the mainstream. What comes after this is a series of diss by the righteous cultivators aiming right at our Hanguang Jun. Still, LWJ did not flinch even for a second. His commitment and determination to stay by WWX’s side is stronger than everything, even the so-called orthodoxy. WWX, now empowered with the trust and support from his soulmate, slowly unfolded the dodgy events and exposed Su She’s motive. The whole solving murder mystery bit inside the Demon-Subdue palace was outstanding: WWX’s smart tactics, LWJ’s silent aids whenever his man needs, Su She losing his shit, Lan Qiren’s annoyance toward the ‘evil’ man who corrupted his nephew, Lan babies’ loyalty with WangXian, everyone’s reactions throughout the big reveal.

What makes me enjoy this arc a lot more than the final 3 episodes is the action. OH. MY. GOD. As soon as WangXian flew out of the palace and landed in the middle of Burial Mounds’ ground like absolute gods, I actually became convinced NOTHING else in the world mattered anymore. Yes, we already saw LWJ pushing people out of WWX’s way before in episode 32, but this time, their connection and flawless collaboration is simply invincible. Just recall the moment WWX playing Chenqing with red eyes and tears on his cheek, versus the moment when he confidently plays the bamboo flute next to Lan ‘protect my man, engaged!’ Wangji.

As usual, LWJ did not talk much in this arc, but his contribution is instrumental in assisting WWX. Unfortunately, it’s not really the case in the final arc at Guanyin Temple as his role seemed to be reduced greatly. In true WWX fashion, he sacrificed himself for the ‘irrelevances’ (in Jiang Cheng’s words), even though they have literally been chanting for him to be killed. But does it matter to him? I can comfortably say ‘Nope, screw it’. Because just in the previous episode, after learning about what LWJ endured over 16 years waiting for WWX to return, he already established that in this life, having LWJ as his soulmate is enough, he will listen to his heart with a clear conscience. Without LWJ’s love and devotion, I’m certain the tragedy in episode 32-33 would repeat itself.

Arhhhh so beautiful!

That’s my take on what I consider the best final showdown in The Untamed. These days I don’t really rewatch episode 48-50 in detail, apart from WangXian entering Guanyin Temple and the last struggle between JGY and LXC. But episode 44-45 is definitely my feel-good go-to storyline. It’s a grand unspoken upgrade of LWJ’s declaration of commitment in episode 42 when WWX’s identity was revealed in Jinlintai. It truly gives me a massive feel of satisfaction.

#wei ying #wei wuxian #yiling laozu #lan zhan #lan wangji #hanguang jun #wangxian #the untamed #chen qing ling #mo dao zu shi #favourite episode #thoughts #xiao zhan #wang yibo

[ga-yuu]

Ikemen Genjiden Prologue ~ Forbidden Chapter~

(There is no change in the prologue, it’s just that they added scenes with three new characters. But I’m still writing the full summary because I’m not satisfied with the one I did earlier.)

Story starts just after the end of the Genpei War. We see Yoshitsune, who is bleeding, walking on the cliffside. Yoshitsune tries keeping his breath but was still struggling because he knows he’s about to die. Right when he was about to give up, a black figure flew above his head and came down right in front of him. It was Kurama. Kurama gave a smug look at Yoshitsune and telling that he looks good. Yoshitsune asks if he’s here for his soul and Kurama asks what he’s going to do now. Yoshitsune went silent for a second and then looked straight at him. He offers to make a deal with Kurama.

Cut to 3 years later, in Kamakura Shogunate, we see Yoritomo and Morinaga discussing something serious in the hallway. Unfortunately they heard a news about Yoshitsune being alive and having supernatural powers. They also discuss about a thing called ‘sesseoseki’. Morinaga reports that Yoshitsune tried to destroy the rock before Yoritomo’s other vassals Shigehira and Kagetoki could stop them. But according to Yasuchika, the ‘thing’ inside that sesseoseki rock is still alive. Yoritomo smiled in amusement and informs Morinaga that they will be leaving too.

That night, Yuno(MC) is on her way to Kamakura for fulfilling her own dream which is opening a drug shop. She used to be a apprentice pharmacist before, but know she wants to start her own business in the prosperous Kamakura. She decides to ask someone for direction and then sees a travelling merchant coming from the other side. She asks him for direction and that travelling merchant, who is apparently our first new character Sueharu, asks if she’s heading towards Kamakura. Yuno smiles awkwardly and says that she wanted to go there in the morning but somehow, things got in the way and she had to travel at night. Sueharu just silently stares at her and then smiles. He decides to flirt with her and asks her out on a dinner instead of going to Kamakura tonight. Yuno found it little uncomfortable and politely declines. She tells him that she wants to get there soon as possible and Sueharu just shrugged it off. He tells her that they might eventually meet in the future but Yuno just thinks that he’s teasing her and leaves for Kamakura. After they both went their separate ways, Sueharu stops and looks back at the road that Yuno went. He starts to slowly whisper about her chances of getting involved with people who are about to gather in the outskirts of Kamakura. He just hope that she reaches her destination safely and walks away.

Yuno reached the entrance of Kamakura safely but she was greet by a small but majestic looking white fox. When she looks closely, she noticed that the little fox was injured and decides to treat it. The little fox didn’t resist and accepted her treatment. Yuno noticed that the injury on the fox’s paw was made by some kind of sharp object like a knife. After the treatment, Yuno places it down and sits on a rock, which was little far away from the fox. She didn’t want to leave the fox alone and wanted to return it to its owner or at least where it belongs. The moment she relaxes, she hears a sharp voice calling her. Then someone pulls her up by the hand and it was Benkei. He looked little intimidating. He glares and asks her what she’s doing was there and Yuno immediately answered that she wasn’t doing anything. He glares at her even more and threatens her that it won’t be good if she’s lying with lack of knowledge of how much tightly he’s grabbing her wrists. Then another man walks up to them and calls out to Benkei. The other man was Yoichi and he asks why he’s bullying a woman. Benkei asks what he’s talking about but Yoichi cuts him, and points at what Benkei was holding. Benkei looks back and forth at Yuno and her wrist which he tightly grabbed with his big hand. After realizing, he immediately releases and apologize. He showers her with questions like ‘is her hand broken?’ or ‘is she breathing properly?’ but Yuno just nods and says that she’s fine. After hearing that she’s fine, Benkei sighed with relief. Yoichi, who was standing besides him, laughs at his awkwardness and teases him for finding time for playing with a woman when there are on an important mission. Benkei instantly denies Yoichi’s statement and says that he was worried about her because she was alone in a dangerous place like this. 

Yoichi turns towards Yuno and asks where she was going. Yuno tells them that she was on her way to Kamakura. She tells them she wanted to open her shop in Kamakura which is prosperous  because of the great Shogun, Yoritomo. The instant she spells out Yoritomo’s name, both Benkei and Yoichi were silent. Somehow the atmosphere changed from warm to cold. Yoichi then sarcastically looks down and states that Yoritomo is very famous  and is good at what he does. Yuno doesn’t get that he was being sarcastic and agrees with him. But however, Benkei doesn’t resist showing his hatred for Yoritomo. He tells her about a rumor which states that Yoritomo killed his own little brother for his own purpose even though Yoshitsune was the one who helped him to win the war against Heiki.Yuno didn’t know about this rumor and starts to think why Yoritomo would kill his own brother. Yoichi tells Benkei to calm down and tells Yuno that she should go wherever she wants to go before anything happens. Yuno agrees and also decides to take the little fox with her. When they both see the little fox she treated a while ago in her arms, they alerted each other. This time both of them had a serious expression and Yoichi politely asked her to give them that fox. Seeing their serious expression made Yuno even more careful and thinks about the injury that the fox had. If her assumptions about the injury being made by a knife is correct then, it could be them. She asks what they are planning to do with the fox but both of them were silent. Benkei tells her that its none of her business and tells Yoichi to hold Yuno while he kills the fox. Yuno pushes Yoichi away and when she was about to run, two other figures comes running towards them. It was Shigehira and Kagetoki. The four of the starts fighting in pairs and Yuno understood that Kagetoki who was fighting against Benkei and Shigehira who was fighting against Yoichi had an emotional attachment with each other. It was as if they were ready to rip each other’s throats this instant. Yuno also finds it hard to believe which side is against her and the fox.

In between the battle, Kagetoki noticed Yuno and the fox and orders her to run inside the bamboo field to find two men. One with black hair and other one who is tall and masculine. Yuno agrees for now, and runs towards the bamboo field. She runs as far as she could and bumps into two men. One of them catches her before she could fall. When she looks up, she sees a beautiful face in front of her. It was Yoritomo and Morinaga was standing beside him. Yuno apologized for bumping into them and Yoritomo just gives his signature fake smile and tells her that it was alright. She asks her to release her from his arms but Yoritomo instead asks her a question. He pulls out his sword and places it on her neck and the smile he had on his face turns into this evil expression which states that he will kill her if she says anything wrong. He asks where she was going and why she had that little fox with her. Yuno tells him that she wasn’t doing anything wrong and tells him exactly what happened. After hearing her story, Yoritomo draws the sword away from her after confirming that she wasn’t lying. She tells him that two people named Kagetoki and Shigehira were the ones who guided her here. After hearing those names both Yoritomo and Morinaga understood the situation and Morinaga asks Yoritomo if he is planning to help Kagetoki and Shigehira. Yoritomo denies because he knows that they can handle there work themselves. He orders Yuno to come with them and also to bring the fox with her. Yuno declines because she didn’t know who these guys where and tells them to introduce themselves before any of this. Yoritomo was irritated but introduced himself as the Seii Taishogun Minamoto no Yoritomo and Morinaga, who is his vassal and right hand man. Yuno didn’t believe them because if he is what he says he is, then why is he out here in this place without any guards. Yoritomo states that he is on an important mission and only wanted trustworthy people by his side for now. He orders Yuno to follow him quietly and also to forget what happen tonight. Before they could all leave the place, Yoshitsune comes and stops them.

Three of them were surprised to see him alive, well actually two of them. Yuno is meeting him for the first time. Yoritomo welcomes him and Yoshitsune had this very deadly aura around. Yoritomo asks if the rumor he heard about Yoshitsune having supernatural powers is true or not and Yoshitsune tells him to watch closely. Yoshitsune takes out his sword and starts swinging it. Suddenly the air around them started to blow strangely and when they all look at Yoshitsune, they noticed that his appearance is different now. His one eye was bloody red and there was a red mark on his neck. Yoshitsune states that his only intention today was to kill that white fox and return to Hiraizumi, but meeting Yoritomo here was like adding cherry on top so that he could kill him. Yoshitsune swings his sword again and certain gust of wind were charged towards Yoritomo. Morinaga tries to protect Yoritomo but hurts himself. Morinaga warns him about the wind being sharp blades. Yoshitsune next looks at Yuno who was still holding the white fox. His gave an icy cold glare and tells her that he didn’t want any woman to be involved in a bloody war. He states that he would leave her alive but she must leave the fox behind. Yuno was intimidated by his power but no matter how threatening he was her heart couldn’t leave the fox here to die.

Suddenly there was a feint sound of a bell and the surroundings around her started to get foggy. She hears a man’s voice telling that he likes her and out of nowhere Tamamo appeared in front of her. Yuno asks who he was and Tamamo claimed that he is the fox he saved earlier, but too bad he was an ayakashi all this time. She asks him what was going on and Tamamo tells her that he will answer all her questions after doing something to her body. He comes closer and holds her body and grabs her wrist with his other hand. With out wasting another second he gently bites her fingertips and Yuno started to feel an unusual heat in her body. Her mind started getting hazy and couldn’t think of anything. Soon her appearance starts to change and her hair turns white and eyes were golden. Yuno asks what he was doing to her and Tamamo states that he is making a contract with her. In other words he is sharing his powers with her and because of this her appearance has changed. However this change may differ among people. After forming this contract, the fog starts to fade and the other people who were standing there all were surprised to see Yuno’s change of appearance. They ask her what happened but Yuno couldn’t clearly describe her situation. Yoshitsune watches her closely and concludes that Yuno made a contract with the nine tail fox. 

Tamamo happily agrees with Yoshitsune conclusion but was not happy that he tried to kill him. Yuno asked what the hell was going on and Morinaga explained everything. Apparently after hearing the news about Yoshitsune’s superpowers, Yoritomo wanted something that could defeat him. Some guy named Yasuchika told him about a rock called sesseoseki, in which Tamamo was sealed. But before he could get to that rock, Yoshitsune and his friends destroyed it but unfortunately they failed kill Tamamo. That injury did a massive amount of damage on Tamamo’s powers and therefore was found by Yuno in the form of a little fox. After all this, the rest of the characters join them and four of them where surprised to see Yuno’s new form. Yoshitsune explains what had happen and turns towards Tamamo. Yoshitsune stated that since he could demolish almost half of his powers, he could kill Tamamo here right now and Tamamo accepts his challenge. When Yoshitsune charges his wind blades toward Tamamo, Yuno steps in to protect Tamamo and raised her hand. The wind blades soon scatters into golden balls of light and goes inside Yuno’s body. 

Everyone had a stunned expression to what Yuno had done and Tamamo chuckles and strokes her head as a compliment for doing such a great job. Tamamo explains them that ayakashi can suck out human’s energy and therefore kill them, but what Yuno did right now was exactly the opposite. Yuno made a contract with the nine tail fox and now she can suck the mystical powers of any ayakashi and kill them. Tamamo looks at Yoshitsune and asks what he’s going to do because if he uses his mystical powers, Yuno could absorb them. This means that Yoshitsune now has to resort to his hand to hand combat which makes things easy for Yoritomo. Yoshitsune’s friends where ready to take them right now but they were interrupted by a black bird that came down from the sky. Kurama lands with an exciting smile. He challenges Tamamo to a battle and Yuno asks Tamamo if he’s friends with Kurama. Tamamo states that Kurama is the most annoying ayakashi out of all the ones he had met because he keeps challenging him. Tamamo felt bad for Yoshitsune who made a contract with Kurama. Kurama on the other hand asked Tamamo why he made contract with Yuno. He looks at her with a disinterest expression and claims that she’s just an ordinary human. 

Yoritomo asks Kurama why he revived Yoshitsune and Kurama answers saying that he was after Yoshitsune’s soul ever since he first met Yoshitsune when he was a kid. He waited for Yoshitsune’s soul to polished and strong so that he could to take it when the time comes. When Yoshitsune was about to die, he said he could not die yet and wanted to make a deal with Kurama. Thus he’s here. Kurama looks at Yoshitsune and asks if he wanted to battle his brother now or he could just come back later and battle him in the great war. Yoshitsune sighs and decides to withdrew for the time being and promises to destroy Yoritomo and his Shogunate. Yoritomo also doesn’t hold back and tells him to dream whatever he wants and the rebels leave. 

Yuno comes back to normal and asks Tamamo if their contract is broken. Tamamo says that even though her appearance is normal, she is still in contact with his ayakahi powers and the contract is still ongoing. When she asks if there is anyway to break it, they were interrupted by another person. It was Yasuchika. He comes in smiling and greets them all. Tamamo was not happy to see him at all. Yasuchika greets Yuno and congratulates her for her new powers. Tamamo angrily says that Yasuchika was the one that sealed him inside that rock for 100s of years. Yasuchika introduces himself as an onmyoji and also someone who works for the court. He wanted to come early for today’s events but something got in the way and was late. Coming back to Yuno’s question, he tells that it won’t be easy for Yuno to break the contract with Tamamo. Tamamo tells her that Yuno has to keep sucking the life out of ayakashi time to time so that Tamamo can gain his lost powers. When the vessel is filedl the contract will eventually break and Yuno could go back to her normal lifestyle. Hearing this Yuno started to panic but Yoritomo came up with a proposal. He asks her to join Shogunate to help him defeat Yoshitsune, and that would be more than enough to break her contract. Tamamo also agrees with that and Yuno wanted to protect Tamamo and also wants her normal life back so she decides to join them.

Yasuchika tells them that he’s going back to Kyoto and leaves. Before going back to Kamakura, Yoritomo asks Tamamo to do something about his ears and tail so that he doesn’t stand out. Tamamo removes his ears and tails to look like a normal human and they all go back to Kamakura.

Scene cuts to Yasuchika, where he stands in a empty field with depressed expression. He starts to mutter how it was unfortunate that the quarrel between the genji brothers didn’t end. His face changes and now has a evil smile and thinks about Yuno being a fox princess and how she’s going to change their fate.

The very next moment, two figures come out from the darkness and joins him. One of those was of a child with a beautiful face and had a manly tone. Other one had a noble aura but was a young man with elegant clothes. The young boy was excited to meet Yuno and Yasuchika tells him to behave himself. The noble young man whose name is Akihito tells them that they don’t now her yet but expect her to be a good dancer. (’good dancer’ means a pawn to destroy both Shogunate and rebels.) The boy next to him also agrees that he wants to play with her and gently removes the bracelet from his wrists and POOF!! He’s man now, more precisely a Oni.Yup , out third new character Ibuki.  The three of them go back to Kyoto for deciding what plan they would go with to destroy both the rebels and Shogunate.

Here, Yuno and Tamamo were greeted by the Shogunate and all of them does a one finally introduction before ending the prologue.

#ikemen genjiden #ikemen series #ikegen

[p1nkymilk]

PhuTian enemies to lovers AU part 2: The Wound

holy crap somehow i knocked out 3k words, this is extremely angsty and definitely OOC and hellla self-indulgent so proceed with caution hahaha

warning for spoilers, and mentions of wounds and blood but nothing too graphic

Once my AO3 acc gets created, I''ll post there too but till then its on here as well sdogbsdigbosid

note: in this AU, Tian did not own the car, and it wasn't his friend that killed Torfun. She died of a random car accident. And also, Tian knows of his father's involvement. Here, they had to strike a bargain such that Tian would only be allowed to leave if his father had eyes watching out for him there. Phupha is ordered to keep a close eye on Tian, but he only knows that Tian's health isn't that great. He thinks that the main reason that he has to escort Tian around is because Tian is rich and privileged. At this point, he only knows very vaguely about Tian's health problems so he doesn't take them seriously. Also warning Phupha is definitely acting like an ass, but he will redeem himself in later chapters

The next morning, Tian got up and stretched, sighing because of the ache of his back from the hard mattress. The hard mattress and the tiny teacher's house didn't bother him as much as the memories from last night. It wasn't that Tian was in love with the obstinate, cold chief by any stretch, but when he first arrived, he was so impressed with the chief, his dedication, his skill, and most of all, how much he truly cared for Pa Phun Dao and its people. He wanted to make a good impression on the Chief, but even with Tian trying his best, it wasn't possible. And it hurt just a bit more because the Chief was handsome, one of most handsome men that Tian had ever seen in his entire life.

Well, it's a good thing I'm not here to fall in love, Tian mused as he picked up his brush and toothpaste. For a second, he took a deep breath and stared at Torfun's old name tag, which flooded him both with guilt and strength. I'm here for you, Torfun. I need to go on. I need to finish what you have started. Although, I really don't know what you see in Phupha.

Tian went outside and brushed his teeth, and then went back in and changed his clothes to a fresh pair. There was a knock at the door. Tian quickly answered it, opening the bamboo door wide.

To his absolute and utter shock, it was Phupha, glowering like a raincloud, standing up straight in his forest ranger uniform, looking a bit like a Greek--er, Thai God in the morning sunlight.

"Chief, why are you here?" Tian asked, surprised, just managing to conceal the frown off of his face.

"I have to walk you down to the school. It's special orders, that's why a rich kid like you gets a chief to walk him down the fifteen minute walk," Phupha responded curtly.

Tian winced. He knew that his father was using his influence to make sure that Tian, with his fragile health, was protected in this physically taxing environment. It was the most he could do just to convince his father not to have another, more medically advanced teacher's house built for Tian to stay in.

"Okay," Tian responded quietly. "Let's get started then, the sooner that we leave, the sooner you can be finished of this chore with my subpar company."

Tian was hoping for a flicker of pity, something, from the ranger's eyes, but all he got was a steady glare of stone, and then Phupha started walking.

"Hey, slow down!" Tian said. "I can't keep up!"

Phupha rolled his eyes, and slowed down a little, but not enough.

Tian tried to make small talk throughout the walk, but Phupha never responded well, more than a few short words. He clearly did not want to continue the conversation. It didn't stop Tian from doing his best through the conversation, but Phupha was a wall that did not move an inch.

Phupha left Tian with the much friendlier Yod and went on to continue his duties with a nod towards Yod and nothing towards Tian.

Yod winced. "He's really not a bad guy. He'll take some time to warm up, but he has a good heart. In the meantime, Rang and I are here to support you! And Dr. Nam, he is a good guy as well." "Thank you so much sir," Tian said gratefully, his eyes full of warmth. Yod's heart softened for the young volunteer. He was a little privileged, sure, but it was clear that he was a good person. He made a note to speak to Phupha about going a little easier on this young man. It was already difficult for Pa Phun Dao to receive volunteer teachers, and no one should ever look a gift horse in the mouth.

Tian introduced himself to the kids in the school house, the boisterous boy Ayi, the curious Khaoneung, the quiet Inta, the inquisitive Meejoo and the sleepy looking Kalae.

"Your name is Tian? Like Seetian!" Meejoo exclaimed, grinning.

"Not quite--" Tian started, but was interrupted by Ayi saying "What are we going to do today Seetian?"

"Today...." Tian said, thinking for a while. "We are going to go on a field trip!"

"I don't know if it's a good idea," Yod said hesitantly.

Tian wanted to prove himself, he wanted to show the world (and himself) that he really could be a teacher who helped his students, even if he was just doing this for Torfun.

"Us teachers--we are showing our students how to understand the world, right? What is a better way than to immerse the students in it?"

"Alright, if you say so...I'll come with," Yod said. "Stick with me at all times!"

Tian flashed Yod an excited grin. "Thank you so much, sir! Come on, guys!"

The kids were bursting with excitement, just like Tian and Tul back in secondary school, the morning right before the field trip to the aquarium or science museum. Tian smiled. Some things are just universal.

The group set out together, and Tian pointed out the different colors of all of the items around them, teaching them how to say each one in English. Meejoo especially was drinking in the knowledge, her eyes bright.

They were walking across the bridge to go to the waterfall. Yod suddenly got a call on his walkie talkie that something urgent came up. Tian convinced Yod to let him take the kids, promising that they were safe in his care. Yod didn't look like he wanted to agree, but he nodded anyway and sprinted off.

Tian and the kids finally got to the waterfall, and they had fun splashing around and swimming. Tian taught them the names of all of all of the items in English, and taught them about the scientific properties of water. They were drying off and getting ready to walk back. Suddenly, Inta asked, "Where's Kalae?"

Tian looked around the shore but couldn't find him. Heart racing in alarm, he swept the water with his gaze and saw Kalae sitting on the ground in an outcrop of rocks in the water, clearly in pain and very scared.

"KALAE!" Tian shouted in alarm, and ran through the water, swimming through when it got deeper. He got to Kalae, thankfully, and clambered onto the rocks, lifting him up, and carrying him back through the water. When he got onto the rocks, he stumbled and skinned his knee, but he didn't care about that at all. All he cared about was getting Kalae to safety.

"AYI! GO GET HELP!" Tian yelled. "GET THE DOCTOR!" Ayi was the oldest, so he'd have the best chance of success. He nodded and sprinted off. Tian laid Kalae across the grass once they got back to the shore. Kalae had a bad injury on his shin, the skin split open with blood streaming down his leg. Not only was he wincing from pain, he also looked terrified at the amount of blood flowing from the wound.

Tian forced himself to stay calm. "Kalae, look at me. I want you to answer these math problems while we wait for help. What's 7 plus 5?"

Kalae struggled to even formulate the thought, but he eventually answered, "twelve..."

"Good job Kalae, good job, now--don't look down!-- tell me what's 13 plus 5?"

"Seetian, I don't feel good, it hurts, it hurts..." Kalae cried, his chubby cheeks wet with tears.

"I know, Kalae, and I am so sorry. For now, focus on me. Tell me what 13 plus 5 is."

"eight....teen..." Kalae said.

"Hey, Kalae, I'm here now, you'll be okay," a smooth, assured voice sounded from next to Tian. He turned and saw a man in a white coat with an honest looking face.

"I'm Dr. Nam," He said quickly as an aside to Tian. "You can step back now. I can take care of this."

Dr. Nam cleaned the wound, holding Kalae's hand through the sting of the antiseptic, and then securely wrapped a bandage around it. Kalae was then helped onto a stretcher, and Yod, who was manning the ambulance, drove him to the clinic with Dr. Nam right next to him.

Tian was, firstly, relieved that Kalae was going to be okay. But then, guilt and self-loathing hit him out of nowhere. All he could do was stand there, stare at the waterfall, his heart turning and turning inside him, making him feel nauseous with guilt. The wound on his knee from the rock hurt and stung, but he wasn't even focusing on that. Kalae got hurt way worse, and could have died because Tian didn't have an eye on him.

Phupha walked up to Tian, storms brewing in his eyes. Tian internally prepared himself for whatever hurtful thing Phupha was going to say. Even more, Tian didn't mind that Phupha was going to scold him, because he deserved it. His first day, and it was such a disaster. It honestly couldn't have gone worse.

"You should go back," Phupha said shortly. "Back to Bangkok. At least there, you will not hurt anyone else." After saying this, he didn't even look for Tian's reaction, just walked away.

Without even being conscious of it, Tian's eyes started to tear up. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stood there, barely able to blink.

"Chief, that's too far," one of the other rangers called out, walking closer to Tian. "Hi, Tian, I'm Rang," he said in an even-toned, kindly voice. "I'm one of the other forest rangers stationed at Pa Phun Dao along with Chief, Yod and Dr. Nam who acts as the medic. It's true that you probably should have looked out better for the kids, but this was an accident that could happen to anyone. Please remember that. It could have happened to anyone. Even the chief."

"Thank you, sir," Tian responded mechanically, mustering up as genuine of a small smile he could for Rang.

Later that night, Tian was lying on his hard mattress again, still in the same drenched clothes earlier from that day, his knee throbbing. He couldn't stop thinking about his mistake, that resulted in Kalae getting hurt. He didn't even want to start to think about how everyone in the village would see him, with distrust, and the rangers just with a cold pity.

There was a knock on the door, suddenly jolting Tian from his thoughts. He slowly walked to the door, putting weight on his right food because his left leg was hurt, and opened it. Tian saw who was on the other side and groaned internally. He wasn't equipped to deal with anymore cruel words that day, even if he deserved them.

Phupha's eyes narrowed in distaste. Tian just stayed quiet.

"Meejoo told me that you got hurt. Why didn't you say anything?" Phupha said, surprising Tian. That was not what he was expecting.

Tian kept silent for a second as he tried to figure out what to respond. He wanted to say "because I didn't think you care," but he decided to be more mature and not cause more problems. "I didn't think it mattered, Chief," he responded, voice devoid of emotion.

"If the wound gets infected, my supervisor, who reports to your father, will kill me for messing with the son of an important government official." Phupha responded after a couple seconds of silence.

Tian winced internally. Somehow, without realizing it, he had hoped--a little, just for some kindness. He should have realized that it wouldn't come, not from him.

"Show me the wound," Phupha said. "I've brought antiseptic and bandages. I'll dress it."

Tian moved forward to try to roll his pant leg up, but suddenly the wound sang with pain and Tian tipped forward, right over the steps. He thought he would fall on the ground, but thankfully he was caught. Not so thankfully, it was by Phupha. For a short second, Tian's hazy brain forgot who it was that caught him. He felt so safe and secure in the strong embrace, his face cradled tight against Phupha's chest. But he realized that it was Phupha's chest, and he scrambled back instantly. Phupha's arms shot out to catch him, and Tian looked up into eyes that were flatly annoyed. "Relax. If you fall over again, that will just cause more wounds and more problems." Phupha guided Tian by the shoulders outside to the bench right under one of the orange lantern. His movements, although precise, clinical and clearly trying not to touch Tian more than he had to, were not rough.

The Chief reached over and rolled up Tian's left pant leg.

"How did you know the wound was there?" Tian asked, thunderstruck.

"That was the leg that buckled first," Phupha responded shortly, continuing to roll up the pant leg until he got to the wound. He took a quick breath in.

"Tian, this wound is pretty big. You need to be transparent about when you get hurt."

On a day when Tian was more well-rested and less emotionally wrecked, or a day where Phupha hadn't said cruel words beforehand, Tian would have been able to interpret that statement for what it was, a clinical concern. But to his exhausted brain, Phupha was somehow saying that not only was Tian selfish, he was also someone who was trying to cause problems by hiding things.

"Don't worry, Chief, if the wound gets infected I won't tell anyone, and definitely not my dad. That way, you won't have anything to worry about," Tian said back, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Phupha looked up at Tian for a split second, and there was a flash--a milisecond flash-- of regret in his eyes.

"It's not just that, Tian. You're the teacher of this village. Your health is important," Phupha said, trying now, for some reason, Tian didn't know why, to sound more diplomatic.

"If it were up to you, I wouldn't be the teacher of the village starting tomorrow. But I'm not going to go back. I made a horrible mistake that resulted in one of the kids getting hurt badly. Tomorrow I will go and apologize to Kalae and his parents. But I am not going back. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, I can't, I can't go back, I can't--" What started out as a measured and rational sentence was slowly unravelling into panic.

"Tian," Phupha said sternly. But Tian wasn't even listening. He was thinking about Torfun. He didn't deserve this heart of hers. She did. Not him. But he has ended up with it. That's why he needs to stay, that's why he needs to dedicate his life to Torfun, so he can do a pale imitation of whatever greatness she would have accomplished. Torfun would not have let a child get hurt. Tears started to stream down his face again.

"Tian!" Phupha said, louder this time. Tian snapped his head back down to Phupha, startled by the loud noise.

"Tian, I shouldn't have told you to go back. I apologize," Phupha said tersely, looking into Tian's wide, shocked, tear-filled eyes, and then studiously continuing to dab antiseptic onto Tian's leg. "I shouldn't have said that, alright? I'm sorry. So stop panicking. No one is going to make you go back." Phupha looked right into Tian's eyes, holding his gaze.

Tian just nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve and sniffling.

Phupha wrapped the bandage slowly and carefully around Tian's knee.

"Can you stand?" Phupha asked quietly. Tian nodded, and slowly got up. Phupha stood stock-still for a moment, and then moved slowly to help Tian. But Tian didn't want to lean against him. Tian just wanted to go to sleep. Tian wanted to be born with a healthy heart. Tian wanted to be someone else: someone strong, someone capable, who didn't let kids get hurt. Someone with a shine so golden it could compare to Torfun's. Someone so bright that Phupha wouldn't hesitate to treat them tenderly.

So Tian moved away from Phupha, the movement sudden and jarring. Phupha saw that, and then his eyes, so strangely open in the lamplight, closed up again and became the pools of black stone that they usually were. Tian moved back towards the house, his movements jerky, and he brushed past Phupha, his arm touching--for a milisecond--Phupha's arm. And that was all that was needed. For suddenly, Tian was catapulted into a memory again. Here, Memory-Phupha was the one who was crying. He was crying silently, his eyes closed shut, and Tian could feel his memory self wrapping his arms around Memory Phupha, and stroking his head softly. "It's okay, it's okay, mountain of mine, you're here with me now, I forgive you, it's alright, you're the only one for me, don't you know that, the apple of my eye? " And then memory Phupha didn't say anything at all, but cradled memory Tian to his chest. Memory Tian melted into the warmth. Memory Phupha used his hands to move Memory Tian half a foot away, scrutinizing his face, and then he tenderly wiped the tears from Memory Tian's face, that Tian hadn't even realized were falling while he was giving Memory Phupha that reassuring smile. And then memory Phupha kissed above the high points of memory Tian's cheekbones, right where the tears were falling previously, quickly in succession, but so, so tenderly. Tian sighed in relief, and the memory suddenly faded.

Phupha had the strangest look on his face. There was still refusal and anger, which hurt Tian's heart, but something else that frankly, Tian was too exhausted to figure out.

"Thank you for dressing my wound, Chief. Goodnight," Tian said politely but emotionlessly, struggling to get up the steps, but ultimately succeeding. Without turning around, he opened his door, closed it behind him, fell on top of his mattress, and instantly went to sleep.

#atots spoilers #atots phupha #atots tian #atots fic #a tale of a thousand stars #a tale of 1000 stars #phutian

[classysassy9791]

Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3

Chapter 4 Word Count: 7,000 Can also be found here Thank you @akitokihojo​ for making this mess legible <3

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“Do you believe in fate? I mean, if you’re meant to be with someone, fate will bring you together no matter what.” 

A shrill cry ripped from her throat as Sango woke with a start, sitting upright and clutching her chest in panic. The sound of crashing waves filled her ears as a deep ache ravaged her back, the pain nearly blinding her, before slowly fading to a dull throb the longer she was awake. Sweat dripped down her brow with each shuddered breath. Her gaze lifted, brown eyes studying the interior of the building she was all too familiar with. 

There were notches in the wood near the bamboo door, measuring the heights of children as they grew. A small fire pit was left cold and empty save for the remains of burnt wood from dinner the night before. When Sango took a deep breath, she could pick up on the damp and musty smell of the home, evidence that it had rained not long ago. 

Footsteps approached, and reflexively she reached for a sheathed blade within her robes. “Sango?” a man’s voice called, and the familiarity of it caused tears to spring into her eyes. 

“F-Father?” she murmured, her lips trembling. 

A man pushed open the door, his concerned gaze falling on his daughter who still laid curled up in the bedding. Sango dropped her hand to her side, the weapon sliding out of her grasp, as she drank in the sight of the man who raised her. 

“Are you all right?” his soothing voice rolled over her as he quickly surveyed the hut before studying her again. “I heard you scream.” 

Sango swallowed the hard lump at the back of her throat and shook her head. She stood and wrapped her arms around her father, the smell of sun-warmed cloth and wood smoke enveloping her - indication that her father had been with the weapon forgers that morning. His hands were covered in a sprinkling of white powder left over from crafting sickles made of demon bones, and he held her tightly in return, a sign of affection her soul had dearly missed. 

“Sango?” he questioned again, the baritone of his voice reverberating through her. The low rumble of his voice was comforting as it wrapped around her, bringing back memories of her childhood - laughter in the village streets, training at a young age, stories of old that made her eyes light up in wonder. Her father’s voice had a way of carrying her off to a world where sound was a power that could decimate even the darkest clouds. 

Pushing a palm to her cheek to wipe away a lone tear, Sango pulled from her father’s grasp and looked up at him sheepishly. “Sorry, Father. I suppose I just had a nightmare. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

His shoulders relaxed at her words as he wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow, more than likely caused by the hot summer sun versus panic of her wellbeing. He smiled easily, a fine net of wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. 

“Well, you do know how to keep an old man on his toes,” he said with a chuckle. “Come now, Sango. It’s nearly midday. Perhaps you should make haste, as there’s still much work that needs to be done.” 

“Of course.” Sango bowed low at the waist, and he swiftly exited the home, leaving her alone to dress. 

While changing into her village clothes, Sango pondered what had occurred that morning to awaken her with such a start. She felt as if she had slept in darkness for a hundred years, in a place where no dreams dared to touch. It unnerved her, the black void that she had succumbed to so completely. 

The silence of her home felt deafening as she surveyed the wooden structure, taking note of the pile of demon bones in the corner. She had trouble remembering when, exactly, she had fallen asleep, but her thoughts were cut short by the breeze wafting into the hut, carrying the lively chatter of the village. 

Sango pulled open the bamboo door and gazed out at the hustle and bustle of the demon slayer village, just as clear as she always remembered it to be. “I’m home,” she whispered, the concept a bittersweet taste on her tongue. She knitted her brows, the bewilderment becoming more pronounced the longer she stood there. It was a strange feeling, to be in a place she had known her entire life and yet feel like an intruder. 

She began walking unusually slowly, almost robotically, as if her brain was struggling to tell each foot to take the next step. Village women bowed in greeting as she passed, the men throwing a glance her way over their shoulders. These acknowledgements were not new to her. Being a female slayer was not only unheard of but frowned upon. She couldn’t count how many times the village women would come to her at the river or after she had finished training for the day, pestering her about when she was going to wed and have children. Sango always questioned as to why that had to be her only goal in life? She was meant to do more than just bear children. 

Which, perhaps, was the main reason as to why she never received any romantic advances from the boys in the village. No man wanted to court a woman who could beat him in a fight. Sango only wished they could see her as an equal rather than an oddity. 

It didn’t take long for Sango to find her brother near the center of the village, sitting on a friendly, old lady’s porch, playing with their two-tailed demon feline, Kirara. 

“Good morning, Kohaku!” she called out with a wave. 

Kohaku’s gentle, brown eyes met hers as he gave her a smile, one that seemed so genuinely sweet with just a touch of shyness, causing unexpected warmth to rush through her. His innocence displayed candidly in his expression, a boy who knew nothing of the harsh world outside their walls. “Good morning, Sister!”

“Help me, Sango. I’m so afraid…”

His voice, usually timid in nature and filled with lighthearted tones, suddenly resonated with terror. Sango froze in her tracks, her breath catching. The middle of her back began to throb again, fleeting images of a nightmare that had woken her so abruptly flashed through her mind - images of a dying Kohaku. Her body felt hot and sweat started trickling down her neck, her eyes watering and her hands shaking. Sango felt sick. 

Her brother was a kind-natured soul. He didn’t like the training the slayers endured, or the idea of killing demons someday. He loathed fighting, and Sango couldn’t rightfully blame him, which caused him to remain safe inside the village while the more experienced fighters exterminated demons in the surrounding lands. Having a fear that Kohaku would die was… realistic, but not as he was now. The timid boy who didn’t have a hateful bone in his body wouldn’t be venturing out on demon exterminations anytime soon. 

But she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. 

“Sango?”

Kohaku’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts, and she immediately reached for him and wrapped him in her arms. His muffled protests fell on deaf ears as she tried to slow the erratic beating of her heart and the adrenaline that pumped through her veins. Her deepest and truest fear had come to life in a nightmare without prompt, and she needed to remind herself that that was all it was - a nightmare. 

Finally, Sango allowed him to pull away from her. Kohaku’s expression had twisted into one of bemusement with a pink coloring of his cheeks. She smiled at him, wiping away tears brimming in her eyes. “Sorry,” she murmured, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “It’s time to start your training for today.” 

Regardless of how timid Kohaku usually was, there was a questionable doubt in his eyes, and Sango knew he had been perplexed by her reaction that morning. But he, instead, allowed it to be, and replied with, “I don’t want to train.” 

Sango watched him begin to sulk, as per usual, when she encouraged him to train. Although, she knew this time her instruction of him would be different. Something deep inside her wanted to push him harder, because one day he would need to know how to defend himself or kill a demon. The skills she taught him could be what tipped the balance between life and death. 

“I know you don’t like fighting, but someday you may need these skills to defend yourself or others,” she persuaded. 

Kohaku nodded his head, ultimately knowing she had a point, before he stood up to fetch his kusarigama. As Sango waited, Kirara jumped on her shoulder and purred affectionately, as if knowing something troubled her. Brown eyes lifted to the midday sun and she thanked the gods for today. She knew tomorrow wasn’t promised. 

...

“I don’t like him,” Sango argued with her arms folded over her chest. “He’s an outsider.” 

Her father didn’t look up from where he was stirring a pot of stew. “Sango, I understand your concerns, but the man would have died if we had not helped him.” 

“Then so be it,” she snapped, causing her father to pause and finally meet her gaze, his lips set in a thin line. She ignored his obvious disapproval of her outburst. “Our priority is our people and keeping this village safe. Who’s to say that fox demon accompanying him won’t tell the rest of his clan and bring the breath of hell upon us?”

“That fox demon is just a child. I don’t believe he poses any real danger. Besides, Kirara has never pursued harm against us, demonstrating that not all demons are malevolent toward humans,” he reasoned. “And Miroku is a man of the cloth; surely he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our lifestyle.” 

Sango’s frown deepened, her hand wrapping tightly around the cloth of her sleeve. “Please, tell me he’ll be leaving as soon as he can.” 

“I promise.” Her father stood, towering over Sango’s athletic frame. “Now, the women have brought him to the medical house. I would like you to tend to his wounds.” 

She gaped, her eyebrows arched toward the sky. “Me?! Why must I be the one? Surely there are far more capable healers that can care for him!”

“Sango.” This time his voice was stern, powerful enough to make her bones feel like they were vibrating. His eyes had lost all frivolity he felt only moments before, and his posture had changed to being upright and rigid. Even though Sango was his daughter, he was the headman, and thus his orders were not to be questioned. More often than not, Sango’s independent nature would slip and she would disobey him. 

This time, she decided it wasn’t a battle worth fighting over. “As you wish,” she grumbled, making it known that she was not happy about his command, as she pushed her way out of their home and toward where the stranger had been brought. 

When Sango arrived, the fox kit was pacing outside, appearing rather distressed. His small stature and obvious nervous character made her ponder her father’s words about how all demons weren’t as monstrous as she thought. “Shippou, right?” 

Green eyes peered up at her ambivalently, and she was sure he was questioning whether or not to escape while he had the chance. “Y-Yes?”

She studied him for a moment longer, realizing her father may be right, and that the fox kit posed no real threat. A sigh slipped from her lips. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Not waiting for a response, she pushed her way into the hut. 

Upon her entrance, the other village women took their leave. Sango knelt down beside the man who had fallen unconscious as soon as the guards interrogated them. Miroku’s forehead was slick with sweat, cool and clammy, and blood had soaked into the fabric of his robes. Moving quickly, the slayer undressed his chest and went to work on cleaning and bandaging the wound, taking special care not to allow her eyes to linger on the man’s handsome features. She couldn’t readily determine if he had been poisoned or not, although Shippou had mentioned upon their arrival that it was a good chance he had, so Sango administered their most potent antidote in the hopes it would combat whichever toxin he suffered from. 

Once she was finished, Sango moved to leave, but paused. Although she was a slayer, and a distinguished one at that, she was still a woman, and couldn’t help but gaze down at her charge. Miroku’s dark hair had been pulled into a tail at the nape of his neck, and his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he dreamed. His pale lips, a perfect cupid’s bow, were relaxed in slumber, but she dared to hope to see his smile one day. Something familiar drew her to the man, yet she was sure she had never crossed paths with him before. 

“Somehow it’s different with us. You see, Sango. I’ve never had such strong feelings for a woman as I do you.” 

Sango drew in a sharp breath, a man’s silky voice whispering into her ear. The voice was unexpected. It was low, with a trace of huskiness and with a hint of more power than Miroku’s frail body would suggest. She had a brief flashing memory of a man; his face was shadowed, and yet, she knew this man had been a close companion, one she trusted with her life. And… perhaps, more than that. Her heart beat rapidly beneath her breast, and she fought down the deep longing just to brush a hand over Miroku’s cheek. Before she could even understand what she was doing, she knelt down beside him again. Her fingers reached out, tentatively gliding through his bangs, slick with sweat, and quelling the strange emotions inside her briefly. She wanted to embrace him. Kiss him. Love him.

Miroku began to stir, and Sango shot to her feet, a heated blush working its way up her neck to flush her cheeks. Within seconds, she had pushed her way outside of the house and passed Shippou’s quizzical expression. 

How could she, a woman of such strength and pride, be turned into a puddle simply by being in Miroku’s presence? Her bizarre emotions he had somehow pulled to the surface only solidified her feelings. 

She didn’t like him at all. 

...

There were many things Sango had learned about Miroku during their journey together. The most prominent one was that he was completely and irrevocably a flirt. After they had become close traveling companions, she couldn’t count how many times she had to slap his hand away from her rear, or leave a mark on his face, or even pummel him with Hirakotsu when he went after the women during their short stays in various villages. She had even grown impressed with his inability to give up on his advances. In the demon slayer village, she had very little romantic experiences, especially since she was different from the other village girls. Most times, she would beat the men when sparring, which was probably the reason why most of the village boys didn’t find her very attractive. 

Who would want to wed a woman stronger and more athletic than he? Already she had been reprimanded by her teachers and friends for being so deviant. She ignored them, deciding her passion to fight and protect was worth more than a few choice words. Her father had always given her his full support, so most gossiping remained out of ear shot. 

But traveling with Miroku - it was strange. Initially, she had kept him at arm's length, still too apprehensive about the unwarranted emotions she continued trying to make sense of. When she first had gazed unabashedly into his violet eyes, there had been something about him that she knew she’d never find in another man, as if in that moment their souls had made a bridge. And she was finally able to see his smile as he made a corny joke that made her roll her eyes. There was something about the way he grinned though; the way it made her feel as if butterflies seemed to escape from the pit of her stomach. It transformed him from someone threatening to someone she wished she knew. Even so, it took a long time for her to return that smile. 

When Sango finally began letting her guard down, the conversations they shared came easily, and he made her laugh in ways other boys never could. And though she swatted his hand away on more than one occasion, a small part of her waited for him to reach out again. 

“I think I see it!” Shippou announced from where he sat upon Miroku’s shoulder. 

Trusting his heightened senses, Sango quickened her pace to the top of the hill and looked down at the small village nestled in the valley. It was a quaint little settlement with shallow rivers and woods surrounding the otherside. It didn’t appear uninviting, but still, Sango remained alert. Although she was neither for nor against the existence of half-demons, it made her wonder what other demons may be lurking in the village below. 

As if sensing her unease, Miroku placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Let us see if they can offer us a room for the night.”

Sango gifted him a strained smile as the trio began their trek into town. The main village seemed normal enough - townsfolk repairing houses, buying goods, or traveling in from the fields for the day. What struck her as odd were the cautious glares they received from the villagers. A woman pushed a child behind her, while another one hurried inside. Men seemed to hold their tools tighter, their body language tense and rigid. It was obvious that the village was not accustomed to outsiders. Although Sango, Miroku, and Shippou didn’t appear threatening, the small village appeared quick to be on the defensive. 

“Well, isn’t this a warm greeting?” Shippou murmured, green eyes watching the townsfolk exchange whispers behind covered hands. 

The trio didn’t venture far before an elderly woman approached them, flanked by several village men who were up in arms with spears and bows. Sango stiffened and her hand found its habitual place snug in Hirakotsu’s handle. Miroku took a small step in front of her, a gesture of protection that irked her and was certainly unnecessary. Sango had quarreled with him in the past regarding it during their battles, but he had simply waved off her concerns with something along the lines of, “What kind of man would I be if I left a woman to fend for herself?” 

She still detested his action, but it was not a time to be bickering. 

“What business do ye have with our village?” the old woman questioned. An eye patch covered her right eye, but her good eye looked mystified at their arrival. 

“Pardon the intrusion. We don’t mean to startle you,” Miroku began, ever kind in his well-mannered way. “We’ve recently been in battle and we’re looking for a place to rest.”

The old woman, who must have been some sort of headman by the way the other villagers looked to her, studied them closely. “I suppose one night won’t do any harm. My name is Kaede. I offer ye a night in my home if ye so choose.” 

“Lady Kaede!” one of the village men cried out in alarm, for what reason Sango still didn’t understand. 

“Hush, now,” she quieted him with a stern glare. “We cannot allow our lives to be led in fear, lest we cower in the face of our enemies. These people do not seem to have ill-will toward us.” 

“You are too kind,” Sango lamented with a bow at the waist. “We accept your humble offering.” 

Kaede nodded curtly, motioning with her hand to follow them. As they walked, Sango studied the eldlerly woman. She was stout and dressed in the robes of a priestess, her gray hair pulled into a tight samurai bun. A bow was strung over her shoulder accompanied by a quiver of arrows, and even with only one eye to see, Sango had a feeling the old woman rarely missed her mark. 

“It may be a little early, yet, to give up on your brother.” 

Sango startled, stopping in her tracks. “E-Excuse me?”

The old priestess paused and looked over her shoulder with a quizzical expression. “I said t’was still early, so I may prepare a broth for the meal.” 

She gave a strained smile. “R-Right.” 

In the very brief moment before Kaede had spoken, the world had felt frigid cold. The overwhelming anguish nearly crumpled her. But, Sango had no sense as to where those emotions had come from. Just like her nightmares - now a faded memory - the emotions came without cause and disappeared just as quickly as a breath. 

There was a lot that left Sango unsettled, perplexed and wondering why her emotions were so precarious. Though she was sure one thing to be true: whatever despair had brought these strange emotions, she hoped she would never come to face the source head on. 

...

The springs Kaede had guided her to were just what the slayer’s aching muscles longed for. Although Sango was no stranger to battle, they had taken part in a far greater amount of near-death encounters than she had been accustomed to. She dressed in fresh village clothes that Kaede had supplied her with so she may wash her own in the river that flowed just outside of the old priestess’s hut. The grass on the bank was sun-warmed beneath her feet, and Sango paused for just a moment to relish the singing cicadas in the trees. It had been a while since she had taken a moment to reflect. 

When Sango had first heard the rumors that there was a village inhabited by half-demons, she had been just as surprised as Miroku and Shippou. Her father hadn’t offered any further details on the matter and had simply shrugged off her curiosity. She had almost forgotten about it until today. It wasn’t often she traveled this far for demon exterminations. 

As she began wandering the village now, though, the slayer had a hard time fitting the rumors to what she saw. The children playing in the streets appeared like normal children, although she thought it odd the way some of them dressed. A few had wool caps on, which was strange considering the heat of the afternoon sun, and others were dressed head-to-toe in cloth that revealed little skin. Parents watched on cautiously, and Sango felt uneasy with the studious eyes glaring at her. Kaede had welcomed them in for the night, but Sango knew the feeling wasn’t the same in the village streets. 

She couldn’t readily determine if there were, in fact, any half-demons living amongst them, as their demonic auras were much more muted compared to their full counterparts. Unless one was a very powerful spiritual being, it was hard to tell their aura’s apart. The scent of their blood was what really made them stick out. She would have to question Shippou later to see if he could tell the difference. 

Sango soon wandered away from the village and the glares of onlookers, instead venturing toward the forest bordering the town. Even at home, Sango was a solitary person and spent most of her time alone. She didn’t have many friends, as her interest in slaying often off-put any relations she was able to build. So for the first time in a while, she was able to enjoy her own company. Kaede was kind enough, but cautious, and Miroku’s antics were often something left to the birds. Instead, she relished the sounds of chirping birds the further she wandered into the trees as her thoughts dwelled on her family back home. She missed her father and brother dearly and wondered how they were fairing without her. The hoard of demons they had been tracking had fled, but their numbers had been nearly cut in half thanks to Sango and Miroku’s efforts. Even so, there was still work to be done, and Sango feared it would still be some time before she was able to return home and see her family again. 

While walking, Sango passed by a lone well and peeked her head inside. It was dry and empty save for the bones of demons far below and the vines that clung to the wooden walls. It was curious that it would be so far away from the rest of the village. She peered around the area and her attention was caught by the sight of a tall tree not far away, and curiously she wandered toward it. 

Sango entered a small clearing in which the tall tree resided. Brown eyes gazed up into the magnificent branches, its leaves swaying in the gentle, midday breeze. Her feet moved on their own accord, bringing her closer to the sprawling roots, and the tips of her fingers pressing against the trunk. The bark was cool beneath her fingers, but it pulsed with an energy she had not felt before. 

“Now that that’s settled, let’s tend to your wounds”, a compassionate voice spoke, a gentle hand upon her aching back. 

“But, why would you still help me?” she asked, her voice cracking with tears threatening to spill. 

A sharp retort. “Will you stop whining, Sango? We want you to stick with us because you’re not a half-bad fighter, and that’s all there is to it!”

Murmured words of conversation, her heart overwhelmed with relief and comfort. 

“Sango, don’t you like us anymore?”

“...but…” she spoke, no longer able to hold her tears back. 

A warm embrace, fingers skimming through her hair, a gentle smile. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Sango. I promise.”

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Sango’s neck stood at attention, pulling her from what felt like a memory, a long forgotten moment, and back to the present. She remained perfectly still, her heartbeat quickening against her ribcage as her senses heightened on the muted demonic aura that remained nearly imperceptible. 

“Show yourself,” she demanded of the cluster of forest trees surrounding her. Whoever lurked in the shadows wanted their presence known, whether to scare her or inflict another emotion she wasn’t quite sure. Her eyes slid to peer over her shoulder, watching the clearing intently. 

A man clothed in red landed quietly from the trees, golden eyes glaring at her apprehensively, as he cracked his knuckles in a threatening manner. Immediately she knew he wasn’t human by the unusual amber color of his eyes, the fangs he snarled with, and the ears alert upon his head. 

“Keh. You’re no ordinary human.” His rough voice held a touch of familiarity to it she couldn’t quite place, like it would forever be perched on the tip of her tongue. 

Sango raised a brow and turned to fully face him, her interest peaked but her guard up. “And, you’re no ordinary demon,” she fired back. 

He narrowed his eyes. “I heard you tell the old hag you’re a demon slayer.” 

“Is that a problem?”

“What’s your true purpose here?” he demanded, his throat letting loose a low, guttural sound. 

“Just as we told Lady Kaede. To rest after battle.” 

“Keh. Well, the old hag ain’t great when it comes to the judgement of strangers.” 

Sango tilted her head. “Well, we won’t be staying long, I assure.”

“I can promise you that,” he spat out, hands clenched into fists, his defensive stance ready to pounce should he need to. 

As she opened her mouth to respond, Sango’s retort was cut short as another, more potent demonic aura overcame the clearing, and both her and the half-demon’s attention was torn in the direction where the dry well stood. Her reaction quick, Sango sprinted in the direction of Kaede’s hut where her Hirakotsu was, ignoring the shouted, “Hey!” from the not-so-nice half-demon she left behind. 

“Hey, Sango,” Shippou called out upon seeing her arrive in a flurry, her breath quick, and her cheeks flushed. “What’s-”

“Demons,” she simply shouted, her hand finding Hirakotsu’s handle as Kirara immediately transformed. At her word, Shippou’s eyes widened, his young nose finally picking up on the scent of demon blood in the distance. 

Sango didn’t wait for Miroku or Shippou to follow. She ran beside Kirara, leaping on her demon feline’s back, and riding toward the old well. When she breached the tree line, she found the soured half-demon jumping through the air to avoid an attack from the mass of demons she and Miroku had been tracking during their adventure together. The half-demon didn’t seem to be faring well against them and had already suffered injuries if his blood-stained haori spoke of anything. 

A snake-like demon managed to grab the half-demon’s arm in its fangs, pinning him to the ground. The half-demon shouted out in pain, before quickly digging his claws into his own blood, and shouting, “Blades of Blood!” Several red, crescent-shaped blades flew out toward the demons, severing a few of their heads, rendering him freed. He leapt away from the enemies and landed softly on the grass with a wince, his painful expression revealing that he had more than likely been poisoned. 

Sango clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around Hiraikotsu. She watched as the hoard of demons once again went on the offensive, immediately seeking out the half-demon, who looked worse for wear. She wasn’t sure if he could handle himself in battle, although his arrogant attitude she had encountered earlier implied that he could, but she wasn’t involving herself in a fight for his life. 

She was fighting for the lives of her comrades, and all the villages these demons had slaughtered. 

“Hiraikotsu!” 

Her large weapon flew through the air and skimmed just short of where the half-demon stood, his silver hair whipping in the wind caused by the boomerang, as it sliced through the demons and caused blood to rain down. The demons screeched out in pain as Hiraikotsu made another pass before easily returning to its master’s hand. Once secured, Sango leapt from Kirara’s back and took a protective stance in front of the half-demon. 

“If you’re going to just get in my way, I suggest you make haste and leave,” she demanded of him, not wanting to worry about a weakling who couldn’t handle his own. 

The half-demon was stunned for a moment before climbing to his feet. “Keh. I can take care of myself. It’s you who should flee. You’re just a human!”

She glared back at him, her eyes fierce. “Don’t underestimate me. I am a demon slayer!”

A midnight sky. Soft glow of a fire. A conversation of heartfelt understanding. 

The half-demon’s eyes glowed with a sharp intensity, and Sango frowned, not willing to recognize the emotion shown in them of one she had experienced on her own. 

“What are you trying to prove?” he growled back at her, hand clenched tightly over the wound in his arm. 

Images began flooding her mind, of a comrade dressed in red, a shining light during battle, someone who she trusted with her life. His face remained shadowed, but his amber eyes glowed, a familiar sense of trust radiating from within them. 

“Watch out!” 

The half-demon’s shout shook Sango from the hazy, confusing, and beguiling visions overtaking her thoughts, bringing her back to the present battle at hand. She leapt out of the way of a demon’s attack, before shouting and throwing Hiraikotsu again, watching as it whipped through the hoard of demons and leaving carnage in its wake. Her attack must have been enough to cause unease among them, for as soon as Hiraikotsu returned to her hand, the demons began their escape. 

So unsettled was Sango by the flash of hallucinations that she couldn’t move herself to follow after the demons. Her breath came heavily, as if she had just run cross-country, yet she knew her stamina couldn’t have burnt out so easily. Sweat dripped from her brow, her limbs shook, and a lump formed in her stomach. 

“Sango!” Miroku called as he and Shippou arrived in the clearing. 

Brown eyes glanced at them briefly before turning her gaze onto the half-demon beside her. He stood up, rolling his shoulder as if he had simply pulled a muscle, and began walking away from them. 

“Are you all right?” Shippou questioned, looking up at her with fretful, green eyes. 

And, Sango couldn’t find the words to answer him. 

... 

Sango watched the stream, lost in the rhythmic pace of water flowing past the shore. Her eyes were steady to the horizon; rich hues of red blended with oranges, purples, and crimsons. The beauty of the sunset only intensified Sango’s perplexion. Her encounter with the half-demon earlier that day had left her stunned, the emotions within her running rampant, and even though she could brandish a cool exterior even in the warmest of rays, this time she had trouble hiding the fervor that half-demon’s presence had riled within her. 

“Sango?”

She turned to see Miroku had met her at the river bank, his brows knitted with concern. The sound of birds drew her attention skyward, and she watched as a flock flew overhead. The birds were silhouettes against the orange-kissed heavens, flying home for the night in which they could roost until dawn came again. 

“I thought I knew what it meant to be a slayer,” Sango said quietly, folding her arms around herself as if to hide her vulnerability from the man beside her. 

Miroku watched her carefully. “Did something happen to make you question that?”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Actually, you did. Shippou did. That half-demon I encountered today…”

“What is it that troubles you?”

“There’s something stirring within me. Something I can’t quite place my finger on, but it’s been a constant tug on my thoughts since you stumbled into the slayer village.” 

Miroku pursed his lips. “Have I done something to upset you?”

She shook her head. Perhaps his presence was part of it, but there was something more hovering just beneath the surface. “My father had explained to me that not all demons are malevolent toward us. Do you believe that to be true?”

He smiled genuinely at her, setting a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “Do you believe Kirara to be an enemy? What about young Shippou? Surely you’ve seen it with your own eyes that not all demonic creatures are malicious.”

Sango nodded slowly. “That half-demon today…”

“Inuyasha?” Miroku clarified. Her eyes widened. He chuckled. “He does have a name. Lady Kaede divulged it to me.” 

“I see. Then… Inuyasha. He reminds me so much of…” She let her sentence trail, not sure exactly what he reminded her of and found putting her feelings into words had become much more difficult than she had thought. 

“There ye are.” Their conversation was interrupted as the old priestess found them. Kaede smiled openly at them, a much different greeting than they had originally received when they had first arrived. “I wish for ye to accompany me.” 

Miroku and Sango exchanged a puzzled glance before abiding by Kaede’s wishes and following after her. She led them past the hut that she called home and toward a stone staircase that led them up a large hill overlooking the village. 

“Where are you leading us, Lady Kaede?” Miroku asked as they followed after her. 

“So, you’ve met Inuyasha,” she said, ignoring his question. “He’s quite the character, is he not?”

She glanced back over her shoulder with her good eye, watching Sango carefully and indicating her question was directed toward her. Sango blushed under her gaze, not sure how to answer the elder’s question. 

Kaede chuckled, her raspy voice rolling over them. “If ye look beyond the grouchy exterior, ye shall see what I mean. Tis’ why I’ve allowed him to stick around for so long. He’s not like that around people he’s grown fond of.”

“What do you mean?” Sango questioned, recalling the sharp tongue Inuyasha had first greeted her with, the guarded gaze that greeted her from the trees. Surely a hot-tempered half-demon such as he couldn’t possibly be kind. Could he?

“He had sensed the battle between ye and the demons ye spoke of long before ye wandered into this village,” Kaede continued, once again not quite answering the question aimed toward her. “He has been watching ye since ye arrived.”

“That isn’t surprising, with him being a half-demon and all,” Miroku countered. “I’m sure he has heightened demonic senses, does he not?”

“Aye. That he does. They come in handy quite often within the village.”

Sango pondered over the priestess’s words. With Inuyasha having heightened senses compared to that of a full-fledged demon, why was it that he hesitated in attacking her in the clearing? Surely he could have caught her unaware and have attempted to end her life. So what stopped him?

They reached the top of the stairs and gazed upon what appeared to be a sacred shrine. It had an otherworldly appearance to it, with the surrounding trees allowing streams of sunset to dance upon the tomb which bore a beautiful name. Delicate blue bellflowers rested on the ground before it, a homage to the stunning soul that used to walk the earth. 

“This is the resting place of my sister, Kikyou,” Kaede explained, wrinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes as she looked on fondly. 

“Your sister?” Miroku questioned, a single hand in prayer as he bowed his head, murmuring a few words from the Buddha text. 

“She was a priestess like you?” Sango asked, taking note of the shrine maiden attributes decorating the grave. 

“That she was,” Kaede confirmed. “Although, my sister was a far more powerful and benevolent priestess than I.”

“How so?” Miroku questioned. 

“My sister Kikyou was once the protector of the Jewel of Four Souls.”

Sango’s breath caught. Her father’s words of wisdom came rushing back, the fabled teachings of the Shikon Jewel being engrained in her memory - of an incredibly powerful priestess who battled demons for seven days and nights, eventually reaching into her own body for strength, and forcing out what was to be known as the Sacred Jewel; a powerful, marble-sized jewel which could grant immense power to whoever possessed it, and in which the battle between the priestess and demon continued to wage within. 

But…

“The Sacred Jewel is said to have disappeared fifty years ago,” Sango argued, knowing that no such powerful object existed in modern times. 

“Aye, that it did.” Kaede sighed deeply, her eye turning skyward. “‘Twas my sister who made it so, and ‘twas my sister who Inuyasha fell in love with.” 

Her last sentiment caught Sango off guard. She didn’t know much about half-demons, but she knew full well the workings of demons. Majority of them were ruthless creatures who knew no bounds when it came to slaughtering innocents. It was only recently that she had come to realize not all demons were malevolent. But, to believe that Inuyasha could fall in love with a human - a priestess, no less - was hard for her to wrap her mind around. 

Child-like laughter drew Sango’s attention back to the staircase, and as she peered down to the village below, she saw something that triggered a warmth in her chest. Inuyasha, the proud and arrogant half-demon who only earlier that day threatened her life with his claws, was walking along the riverbank with children. The kids looked up at him, laughing and smiling, while tugging on his haori, and Inuyasha - never seen without a scowl on his face - smiled down at them with a look of content, as if he actually enjoyed their presence. 

Taking a closer look, Sango could see the ears from the children’s heads, now free from their wool caps, and the scales that shined upon their skin, free from their restrictive clothing. Tails twitched openly in the air as claws glinted in the waning sunlight. It wasn’t just normal children Inuyasha occupied himself with. It was half-demon children, smiling and looking carefree, like normal village children. 

As Sango admired Inuyasha from afar she realized that though she may not know Inuyasha, it seemed to her that a sight such as this was rare. That perhaps, not all demons were bad, that half-demons were just as real as she, and there was so much more to their story than what met her eyes.

#inuyasha #fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #mirsan #kagome #miroku #sango #shippou #tomorrow's destiny #sassy stays classy #my fanfiction

[danwhobrowses]

Ghost of Tsushima: Thoughts, Ideas and Hopes for DLC and Sequels

So I recently Platinum’d Ghost of Tsushima, I finished the story last week after 30 entries of livestreams which saw a whopping viewership of at most 2 people including one asshole that decided to spoil the end of Act II before I got there because I was playing stealthy and the way I wanted to play. But then wrapped up the Achievements on my own time. After a bit of stewing I’m ready to talk gush about it, including what I liked, a small bit of stuff I disliked and stuff I would suggest for future DLC and Sequel(s)

Spoilers for the Game, unlike that Commenter on my Stream I will not Spoil you on this, it is truly something you should experience for yourself

Because Good Lord, What A Game. Easily my Game of the Year, which compared to all the big hitter titles released is amazing, I mean Crash Bandicoot could still blow me away and Cyberpunk, Watch Dogs, Godfall, AC Valhalla and Miles Morales in waiting but probably not in this way. It is a magnificent game, one made with fantastic care and beauty, but before I go all out, let’s get the negatives out of the way 出る杭は打たれる。: A Flawed Masterpiece Ghost of Tsushima is brilliant but not without its faults. Most of these faults are admittedly minuscule and fixable, but until they are fixed they remain flaws. The biggest disappointment for me with the game was the lack of Japanese lip syncing. I loved the Japanese track, it also highly appealed to me to hear One Piece’s Roronoa Zoro voice Jin, but you have to kinda avoid looking at the mouths because it doesn’t match up, the models still speak in English and it’s a heavy shame that can kill some immersion. I guess they didn’t have the finances for it, because they could’ve done the lip syncs at the same time as they did the English ones if they had the Japanese track too. Combat for the most part was great, aiming could be wonky at times and Jin’s attacks didn’t carry on to a 1 foot ledge, but my main gripe with combat was the Camera getting in the way. It was adjustable most times, but other times it was not. Doing standoffs in the tall grass was night impossible at the later stages without the knees giving us a tell, one standoff I had was completely obstructed by a tree - I’m not making it up, a tree was literally all I saw for the Standoff. You lose so much health for failing a standoff too, bit harmful in later levels. The remaining issues are probably more personal, I didn’t quite like some of the sword kit designs - the ones with fluffy sleeves and I didn’t really like the armor dye you get for 100%ing the achievements, some weapons seemed to lose their luster in later parts of the game (particularly the half bow and Explosive Arrow, the former was only good for killing the angry doggos and the latter only killed Mongols if near another explosive to stack), that one Masako quest mission where you have to follow and pick off Straw Hats one by one without being seen, but will fail if you pull a triple assassination before the outpost where Masako’s lesbian lover was leading them all to so there’s more Straw Hats to blow my cover! (it wasn’t difficult it just annoyed me that it failed me for killing them all early) and the completionist in me hates that there are empty slots in the arrow and blowgun sections, but they can be worked in what I’ll talk about a bit later down the line, alongside some minor loose threads. Also you killed my horse man!

Your horse will accompany you on your entire journey - Ghost of Tsushima UI Message

Don’t you dare lie to me like that again Sucker Punch! Just because you’re named that doesn’t mean you can live up to it, we already lost one horse at the beach! Had to spend the final act with Not-Sora and Kaze with a hole in my heart never to be filled. But with that dealt with, let’s talk about some things I loved about the game

花は桜木人は武士 :  Living into a Legend With these games it is very easy to fall into the Elder Scrolls prototype of an array fun side quests and exploration and a so-so main story. Ghost of Tsushima though decided to have both the array of side quests and exploration and a great, complex and partly tragic story. There were many times I wanted to get back to the main story but held off because I wanted to be prepared. Long distances didn’t feel too bad to travel when the roads were uncharted either thanks to radiant battles, new settlements, vanity gear and side missions to ease you on the way. Additionally, the characters are for the most part fantastic, I cared for the safety of most of my allies and Jin himself, I wanted the Khan dead in a cerebral villain (albeit one whose final battle fell into cowardice) and I was open to the complexities of Ishikawa and Tomoe. I did feel that Shimura was being a tad ungrateful but I think it was intended for us to be frustrated to the edicts of the Samurai code - my frustration led me so much to deep dive to prove myself justified since the code was subjective and many agreed to aspects of ‘win no matter what’ and ‘do what protects the people the most’. Along with the main quest was paired with the character journeys of our allies as well as the Mythic tales which granted some extra strength and challenges to overcome in order to expand Jin’s arsenal. I particularly liked the observation and killing of leaders to learn new stances, as well as the widely acclaimed Stand-Off and the duels. The Arkhamverse fan in me did appreciate the focused hearing for stealth and that assassination speed could be upgraded. The idea of collecting vanity gear, armour dyes and equipment that are remains of the conflict showed that SP had completely immersed their plot into the world of Tsushima, with a great amount of exploration and nuances nodding to Japanese folklore And Tsushima is certainly stunning, it’s amazing that the PS4 can hold this much when we know how the PS5 is meant to be with ray tracing. The landscapes are beauteous which makes exploration and travel much more fulfilling, as well as the photo mode and the scenic builds to some of the major battles. What’s also wonderful is the calligraphy cutscenes for Mythic Tales and the loading screens, some wonderful artistry. Artistry which is added to by the brilliant uses of Haiku spots, Bamboo Strikes, Lighthouses, Shrines, Altars which you bow to, Fox dens where you can pet the Foxxos and even the Hot Springs for some ‘Man-Butt Action’, each positions that fit to Japanese media in soaking in a moment without killing any pace, especially added to the fact that each one contributes to a purpose. I will admit, I chose wrong at the end, I was thinking more of Shimura (said ungrateful uncle)’s honour rather than what Jin would what, feeling that Shimura would’ve done it himself had Jin not. But seeing the spare ending made me wish I chose that one and it’s something I’ll touch on later. But both endings are fitting and tragic for Jin’s journey from Samurai to the Ghost, being inspired by his allies and his connection to Yuna, there has been conflict throughout regarding the line of protection, honour and vengeance explored through other people’s tales that blend together perfectly with the main plot.  It is pretty political as well with the argument presented by Jin and Shimura’s conflict. Samurai while still romanticised were still shown to be bound to the blind loyalty towards the Shogun and Jito, you did not defy because it inspired others to think freely. Jin became a champion of a people by defending the people rather than listening to the jito - represented by the shogunate - and their stringent ideas that the Samurai who failed on the beach would be able to out-muster the force and brutality of the Mongol invasion regardless of the collateral and yet still call that honour. In the current climate in 2020, that hits a chord a little closer than expected. And the main story certainly has their stellar moments, the ups and downs really hit you - like killing my freaking horse! I had to lose Yuriko, Taka and Sora in a single playthrough. Losing Taka was inevitable, but still heartbreaking because of how much we struggled to save him and how much we want to still be Yuna’s friend, but then the highs just blow you away from the opening act, Ghost Stance, raiding Castle Kaneda and Shimura and the final raid at Port Izumi. Also did I mention that you can pet the Foxxos? Because that’s very important, also NPCs walk at your pace most of the time, which is a fantastic addition. I could probably go deeper but there’s other stuff I want to cover, but understand that the world and the story is wonderful and if you’re a fan of Assassin’s Creed, Arkhamverse and just Japanese culture in general this should tick your boxes. And hopefully there’s more to come.

石の上にも三年 : Strait to DLC The sad thing that happens when a good game is over is the void. Even if its days, having nothing left of the game to play is still a shame, and I know that Legends DLC is announced, but multiplayer involving fighting Oni as mythic legends isn’t my pace, I’m still not done with Jin and I feel like there are things we could still do. There are still 3 conflicts Jin’s story never resolved that could still be resolved now, each as multi-layered quests. The first is this ‘Ghost Army’ mentioned by the wagon guy in Omi, we are not leading this so who is? We may not be able to stop them but we could reduce the amount of people thinking we’re leading them to fight. The second is Daizo, if you don’t know that name it’s because the guy is never seen in the game, you only read about him in the Records of ‘Conversations with the Khan’. This Japanese Monk clearly has a thing for the late Khotun and he feels that the Ghost is being a dishonorable monster, this Khan lover is still at large and a confidant of Khotun, we could link with Norio in a quest to ensure he doesn’t rally or try to spread his appreciation of the Khan to others to try and complete Khotun’s work. The final conflict is one that eats me up: How did the Mongols Know About the Poison? Yuriko died showing me how to make the poisons, made more potent from her own herbal poisons which were crushed down, if she didn’t tell and I didn’t tell, who told? Because the Mongols drank the evidence and we could make a story of an Omi village traitor or even someone from Shimura’s camp leaking the info to the Khan to try and preserve ‘honour’. On top of these loose ends I’d very much like to see our allies again, even if they’re just at their home doing their own thing, as well as some other minor side characters like the Tadayori descendant Kaede, Flame Swordsman Bettomaru (who would’ve both been mighty useful with this Mongol affair beyond their sole missions) and the Yarikawa Archer Daikoku, I also would like to see confirmation on Jin and Yuna - there is clearly something there but that could be just me. What is also just me would be the suggestion of a shrine that can let you redo the Shimura decision, it’s not a too ‘out-there’ thing to do either considering we fought a Tengu. The shrine could be for Omoikane, Kami of wisdom and intelligence or Ame-no-Koyane, the ‘First in Charge of Divine Affairs’ which’d subject the player to a gauntlet of bosses past; Ryuzo, Kotun and Shimura, if the player goes against their initial decision, they will trade their ghost armour dye for the other and get a Charm of Pondering, if they stick to their guns they get both ghost armour dyes and a Charm of Strengthened Stance. In similar vein we could have a master Mythic Tale that stacks the duels of those tales into one for another special attack, weapon or armour. It’s also possible that we could add more duels, some remnants trying to avenge Khotun or even some Samurai sent by the Shogun in promise of becoming Jito. Likewise we can use this to complete the weapons set; for the Half Bow, take the Mongols’ poison arrows (which can be a reward for finding who leaked the poison to them) which can just eat at lesser enemies’ health and take a chunk of stronger enemies’ health before resolving out of it, as well as a sticky arrow that could slow enemies or weaken their armour, or a perfume arrow that can mess with the falcons and angry doggo’s senses. For the Long Bow we could have...okay I’m drawing a blank here but I’m not meant to do all the work XD For the Blowgun at least you could have a Blinding Dart to aid in stealth and a Panic Dart to increase chances of Terrify. We could even have a few more upgrades to our ghost weapons and stance combats, even increase the amount of kills Ghost Stance can yield. In addition to more Fox Dens, Shrines, maybe new resources to bolster upgrades, Sword Kits, Haikus, Banners, Flute Songs, dyes and so on. But I know what you’re thinking, we can’t put that all in Tsushima? We’ve covered the entire island and it’s unlikely that SP would make a fictitious island. And to that I say, I have that covered. In the Tsushima Strait between the island and the mainland there is Iki Island, part of the same prefecture and equally ravaged by the Mongols during the invasion, it’s also the base of pirates which can offer a stop point for a Tomoe reunion or simply travel via Umugi Cove. A small bit of expansion wouldn’t hurt, as long as Iki isn’t planned for something else that is.

能ある鷹は爪を隠す : Hopes for a Sequel Now part of me would be content if this was a one and done, the game shines perfectly on its own. But I would not turn one down. Though many would feel that Jin’s journey is done (I even heard a suggestion of Tomoe, I could see that but not right now, maybe for a third) but not me, there’s still a few glaring issues at hand. For one, the Shogun now wants you dead, new clans are moving in on you and there will probably be a new Jito regardless of the ending choice because of Shimura’s failure, Adachi will also need to look at another clan taking its land. There’s also the vacuum left behind by the clans’ subsidiaries; Nagao particularly but also Adachi’s rival clan Kikuchi, there’s easily possibilities to use canon Sō, Abiru, Shōni and Imagawa, there’s also room for Kikuchi Takefusa, who survived both Mongol invasions  . A sequel could offer some clan territorial tensions in that regard as the people of Tsushima side with the Ghost over the mainland. That conflict is one we have touched on in the end of the first, Jin has fought for his country’s safety so how will he act when his country wants him dead? The first was a story of sacrifice perhaps the next can be a story of maintaining his legend, inspiring the mainland Samurai and even redeeming himself in the eyes of the non-Tsushima natives. It’s also worth remembering that Komoda was the beginning of the invasion, and there was a second invasion 6 years later where Tsushima was attacked once more, the death of non-canon Khotun could spark other higher ups of Kublai’s ranks to avenge or clean up for Khotun, Kublai also had counsel from different nations to understand his enemy so we could have an even more vicious and cerebral enemy be made, or even a group of enemies led by advisors like Liu Kan or Yao Shu, maybe even Marco Polo if we move the time after the first invasion. In terms of gameplay we could also see Jin expand from Tsushima to Iki and maybe some more naval warfare, growing in his equipment (like Caltrops, Kusari-Fundo and Suntetsu) and maybe even his weapon, an Ono, Jitte or a Naginata to rotate with his not-yet-made Katana to combat with Samurai or the army of a Mongol threat, maybe even use the Bo-Hiya for ranged fire archery learned from the Hwacha. And like the Mass Effect games (or Dragon Ball Xenoverse if you wanna pick a franchise that didn’t end in a bitter aftertaste) you could have the option to transfer over some data from the PS4 save to the next one, which’d inevitably be on PS5 at the least - also don’t be surprised if this gets a PS5 remaster too, especially if it does win Game of the Year. What I suggested for DLC could be used here too, if there is a sequel with Jin I really, really hope that SP don’t opt for the route of killing Jin (or Yuna) off for effect, I was nervous about the current game ending with Hara Kiri and I’d rather not have that or a downer of a death for the legendary Ghost (I am a happy endings guy after all). An alternative route to go (other than following Tomoe to the mainland to rip off the Ghost) is to work backwards, call it ‘Ghosts of Tsushima’ working towards a story of a more ancient time, where a thief could become a samurai clan. A clan Sakai or Shimura origin would sell in that way too and avoid the idea that we have to start again from zero but still have the more ‘dishonorable’ stealth tactics.

義は険しい山よりも重く、死は大鳥の羽よりも軽い : Conclusion In the end, this game was worth the wait, worth the delays and worth the price tag. I feel like this will be one of the games I’ll fondly remember when thinking of the PS4, which has truly had a stellar library of awesome games like Spider-Man, God of War, the Crash, Ratchet & Clank and Spyro Remasters, DMCV, Jedi: Fallen Order and more. This truly ticked the boxes for the anime nerd within me and the history buff, even the Haikus spurred the poet in me a little too. If anyone hasn’t played this game, they should, and I hope that Sucker Punch realises that people like me want to see more. If it stands alone so be it, but I’m not ready to leave Jin or Tsushima just yet. いってらっしゃい

#ghost of tsushima #tsushima #tsushima spoilers #jin sakai #lord shimura #clan sakai #clan shimura #yuna #taka #norio #sensei ishikawa #masako adachi #clan adachi #clan kikuchi #clan yarikawa #ryuzo #khotun khan #samurai #mongols #mongol invasion #sucker punch #ps4 #dlc #sequel talk #dlc talk #review #bushido #tomoe #ghost of tsushima legends

[a-cutebird]

Tale of Princess Kaguya AU

(Inspired by the Ghibli movie telling of the classic tale & also by how everyone puts Lan Xichen on a pedestal so fucking tall that he really may as well be from the Moon.)

Xichen descends from the Moon to experience mortal life and is born on Earth as a miniature boy found inside a bamboo shoot. He grows rapidly into a normal sized lad, much to the surprise and delight of his father.

He spends his childhood in the countryside, where he meets and grows close to a boy named Jiang Cheng, who’s quick to anger and sharp with his words, but also kindhearted; Xichen knows this, because Jiang Cheng is the one who forces the other children of the village to accept him. 

One day, Xichen’s father finds a trove of gold and fine cloth in the bamboo grove. Taking this as a divine sign, he relocates his family to the capital, forcing Xichen to leave Jiang Cheng behind. 

Growing up in a mansion is stifling; there are so many rules, and his instructor, Lan Qiren, is mercilessly strict. But Xichen dutifully plays the role he’s been thrust into, and accepts the name “Prince” with a humble bow.

His only solace is a servant-boy named Meng Yao, who becomes his only friend as he grows up in the capital. Their friendship is frowned upon due to Meng Yao’s background as the son of a prostitute, but Xichen quashes all complaints by approaching Meng Yao’s father and demanding that he accept responsibility for his bastard son. Unable to refuse the beloved Prince Xichen, Jin Guangshao relents and declares that Meng Yao is now family and renames him Jin Guangyao.

This boldness catches the attention of Mingjue, heir to the great Nie family. He and Xichen arrange a private meeting and realize that they share many values. They become fast friends - much to Jin Guangyao’s intense jealousy. But for many years, he holds his tongue and pretends to get along with Mingjue, for Xichen’s sake, even as Mingjue grows increasingly suspicious of him.

Eventually, Xichen reaches an age where he can no longer remain unmarried. He is forced to meet with many potential brides but rejects each one for various reasons. The good reputation he’s developed over many years is rapidly deteriorating. Concerned for his friend, Mingjue approaches Xichen and demands to know what it is he’s looking for in a bride so that he may go out and search all of Heaven and Earth for her. 

It is then that Xichen confesses that he has already fallen in love, once, and that his heart still lingers with this person. Try as he might, Mingjue cannot force Xichen to tell him more. Frustrated and desperate, he at last turns to Jin Guangyao for help.

Jin Guangyao tells him that he remembers Xichen telling him about this woman, once, when they were young. He promises to investigate where she might be and leaves. A month later, he returns to Mingjue and tells him that he may have found where she is located - but it is a distant land, across a treacherous sea. He may not make it back alive.

Mingjue snorts.

“I thank you for your concern, but I will return alive - and with Xichen’s bride.”

Two years later, word arrives that Mingjue perished last fall.

Xichen is beyond himself with grief. Why did his friend embark on such a perilous journey? He had left without a word, only a grin and a promise that he would come back “with your happiness”. He falls into a deep depression, and the only thing keeping him afloat is A-Yao, who is, once again, his only solace. 

A year later, a letter arrives - but before Xichen can read it, Jin Guangyao reads its contents and feels his blood run cold. He goes to burn it - only to be attacked by the letter bearer, who had been lying in wait to see what would happen. The two fight - and with his cunning, Jin Guangyao gains the upper hand and stabs the man. But before he dies, he cries out to Xichen, who has just rushed into the room, “Nie Mingjue’s letter!” Jin Guangyao slits his throat before he can say any more.

Xichen’s mind reels. He’s never seen such brutality from his gentle friend before.

“What letter?” he asks. A-Yao shakes his head.

“There is no letter,” he lies, “the man must have lost his mind in his final moments.”

But Xichen peers behind him and sees - peeking out from under a cushion, a corner of paper. Jin Guangyao dashes to grab the hidden letter - but Xichen intercepts him, and the two struggle. Again, with his wit, Jin Guangyao breaks free of Xichen’s grapple and snatches the letter, tears it in two and goes to shred it further -

“No!”

Xichen cries - and drives a dagger through Jin Guangyao’s heart.

“Xichen,” A-Yao gasps. “Why? I had never lied to you before; why could you not believe me now?”

He falls to the ground in a heap. Xichen sinks to his knees with him. A beat later, he reaches for the torn halves of the letter and reads its contents with shaking hands.

It details how Mingjue died, how his party was ambushed, and after watching his men be killed one by one, he slaughtered their assailants then turned his blade on himself before he could die a slow death from his wounds.

“From the surface, this event seems nothing more than a tragedy. But the truth underneath is more sinister.

“We were hired to capture Nie Mingjue and torment him and his men. The pay was tremendous; we could not refuse. We would have had enough money for every man to abandon his life of crime and start over anew. But my brothers are all dead. What use do I have for riches if I am the only one?

“The only wish I have left in this world is for the man responsible to face justice.

“Jin Guangyao was our benefactor.

“He is the reason Nie Mingjue died.”

By the time Xichen is done reading, Jin Guangyao’s eyes are already dim with Death.

“Why?” Xichen whispers. “Why?”

“He didn’t deserve you,” Jin Guangyao rasps with his final breath. “None of us did.”

And as the life leaves his only friend’s already-cold body, Xichen feels his heart shatter and scream to be saved -

and instantly, he remembers:

I am not of this world.

And in another, he knows:

They are coming for me.

Xichen spends his final weeks on Earth alone and deep in despair.

On the day before his final night, he goes to the garden and gazes out over the grass. The wind carries the sweet scent of spring, and he remembers: All the joy, all the sadness, all the anger. All the emotions he has been able to feel while living this mortal life. He remembers the boy he fell in love with as a child. He remembers his sharp tongue and caring eyes. His longing streaks across the sky and finds him - the boy - but he’s a man, now, all his softness carved into angles, but Xichen sees that familiar kindness in Jiang Cheng, in how, underneath his anger at Xichen for leaving and shock that he came back, there is concern for his childhood friend.

Xichen laughs.

“Jiang Cheng.”

He smiles.

“Will you run with me?”

They run. They run and run and with a leap, they fly. Above the fields, above the forests, above the sea glinting blue and beautiful like the happiness in his heart. His lips split in a smile he has not worn since he was a boy, and beside him, Jiang Cheng smiles back. 

Oh Heavens and Earth, Xichen sings, take me in.

But the Moon is coming.

When Jiang Cheng wakes, he feels the tightness of loss in his chest. How could a dream have left him so heartbroken? But could a dream really have felt that vivid? When he closes his eyes, he can still see Xichen’s face, bright with laughter.

That night, Xichen watches the procession of celestial beings descend from the Moon, and when given the feather robe that will erase all memories of his mortal life, he dons it obediently. All his sorrows vanish. All his love, too.

Xichen returns to the Moon, without looking back.

#mdzs #xicheng #xiyao #nielan #kinda??? they're all in there #in some way shape or form #lan xichen #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #lxc #jc #nmj #jgy #god this ended up being way longer and more detailed than i had planned it to be #i don't think i'd ever actually write this fic #it would require such delicate prose #and precise tone #to capture the right atmosphere #also i would want to write more scenes about jc and lxc #bc i don't believe in lxc holding onto his love for jc for that long #based on just a childhood crush #but anyways #have this for now #ty to anyone who reads this incredibly long and self-indulgent thing lmao

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.03

A Streak of Blood

08/12/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 5,863

Masterpost     Warnings: blood, gashes, wounds, slight angst, Bucky in boxers

Prompt: Castaway AU

A/N: I really don’t know how long I’m going to make this story. I kinda just wanna keep exploring it so please bear with me. I’m really enjoying this version of Bucky and I’m super intrigued by this helpless reader whose personality is less apologetic about it. She knows she’s a struggle but she owns it, I think. I hope you’re liking it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Bucky sits with his back to you, back all taut and tense. His muscles tied up in nervous knots.

You’ve been staring at him for almost half an hour, saying nothing.

He plays back your reaction again. The immediate reaction because technically this thing you’re doing, sitting there, staring at him is still part of your reaction.

He’s finally told you the truth. After three months of learning to live with you, actually not minding it at all. He’d become accustomed to your voice in his ear, your warm usually sticky—with sweat—body pressed against him in the confines of the fuselage.

Your breath tickling either his neck or collarbone, or his back when you spooned up behind him.

Throughout the day, he'd made sure to only touch you when it was appropriate or what he likes to think of as relevant to the situation. But at night…when the two of you play the day over and wonder together, usually in absolute silence, whether you’ll be stuck on this island forever…he understands the need to feel him.

He’s needed to feel you too. You’re proof that the world exists beyond the shallow shores of the island.

So, at bedtime, when the jungle wakes up and the two of you settle in to sleep, he didn’t pull back when you'd grabbed his metal wrist.

You'd lifted his arm up and over your head as you slid into the crook between his arm and his side, pulling his arm around your shoulders as you let go and wrapped yours around his stomach.

At first he'd laid there, tense like he is now. Uncomfortable with the intimacy of your touch.

Then the next night it had felt less strange. Night after night you grabbed his metal wrist—he's still kind if…not surprised but something close to it, taken aback a bit but also touched that you don’t seem to fear his arm or pay it much mind. To you it seems to he just that, his arm—and wrapped it around your soft humid body until finally, around a month after you’d started doing it, he would open it for you.

He offered you the space against his side willingly. Almost looking forward to the skin to skin contact. He finds himself, even now, missing it.

He doesn’t really think it’s anything romantic.

Okay, yes, fuck—sometimes he watches you swim or work gathering coconuts or fruit and he stares at the expose plush flesh of your thighs or the curve of your back to your bottom.

He's only a man after all. Human.

He looks. Often. But he doesn’t touch.

However the urge to touch you is deeper than lust or like or love. It’s human and he almost needs the contact and conversation to function.

Which is strange because he’s been alone for a long time before. He’d craved the solitude.

With you…knowing you’re close by. He needs you. After three months of enjoying the ways you need him. He realizes right now, as you sit behind him, staring that he needs you.

He hopes that confessing the truth hasn’t driven you away. What would he do?

“Listen…” He finally says, voice low and gravelly. He clears it, shoving his nerves down. “…if you hate me now, I get it. If I hadn’t been on your flight you probably would have made it back to the States with no problem and you’d be home, safe. So, hate me.”

He thinks quickly, what can he offer you?

“I'll finish the hut and you can stay here on the beach. I’ll got to the fuselage but…can-" He hesitates. “Can I still come and eat meals with you? I won’t talk to you. I’ll just eat and go. And I’ll keep lighting the beach fire so you don’t have to.”

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

He feels off. Exposed. Vulnerable. He doesn’t like it.

He scowls, his brow dark, his eyes glaring at the muck of clay he’s almost got to the right viscosity.

“Or…never mind.” He nearly growls. “Forget-"

He feels soft burning fingers slide across the back of his bare shoulders.

He turns, almost desperately happy at your touch but he also doesn’t know what it means. He keeps his face stoic, despite the elation he’s feeling.

You squat down next to him, the rays of the sun shining down directly over the two of you. Here in the shade of the palms, the light flickers across your dewy skin making it look like it’s glowing.

Sparkling fish scales across your soft sweaty skin. You’re wearing your dress again. The one he’d torn and it rides up along your thighs. He wants to look—damn it, he’s having a guy moment because thinking about you pushing him away is making him want to appreciate your presence all the more violently—but he also can’t bear to turn away from your stern face.

“Bucky…” You begin, breath taken in and held as your pretty lips part.

Fuck. Bucky. Get it together.

“Yeah?” His own stoic gaze betrays nothing.

He knows how to keep himself closed off. How to pretend. Like a pro. Thanks, Hydra.

“S-Start from the beginning.” Your stutter is not from fear but uncertainty. Confusion. “Why have you killed a lot of people and who would be pissed enough to want to blow you to pieces?”

“Y/N,” Bucky looks back at his clay coated hands and tilts his head, shaking it slightly as he thinks about his story.

He’s never had to tell it before. Steve and Sam had known. The rest of the team either didn’t care or spent their time away and didn’t need to know.

“It kind of a long story. It could take forever.” An exaggeration but it’s his life. It feels like he’s lived it for ages. In a way, he has.

“Bucky,” You gasp a chuckle, your hand dropping from his back as you settle down on your bottom, straight on the heated sand and dirt. “We’re on a deserted probably uncharted island, with no sign of upcoming rescue. We’ve got time.”

Bucky turns his steel blue gaze back to you, searching your face for a hint as to whether you’re leaning more towards hating him or not but like him, you’re stoic.

“Right…” He inhales long and slow, then releases the breath as he begins to knead again. “Well, if I’m gonna start from the beginning, then I should probably start with when I was born.”

You frown. “What? Why does that matter?”

He can see in your expression that you think he’s being melodramatic.

He licks his lips, avoiding your gaze as he shrugs his right shoulder. “Because…I was born in 1917 so by record I'm one-O-six but because of the Snap…”

“You’re a hundred and two years old?!” Your voice squeaks as you slowly stand, staring down at him as he looks right back up at you and he suddenly realizes you too went through the Snap.

Had you survived or had you returned in the Blip too? He’s so fucking curious now but…you want to know about him. He'll have to be patient.

“How the fuck?!” You nearly screech in shock.

Bucky winces.

Bucky’s layering the crevices of the hut’s foundation with clay. Using his fingers then running the clay down through the long strips of bending bamboo with a new makeshift metal trowel.

This one is flatter, specifically made to spread the clay flat, like jam on toast.

He takes a handful of clay, smears it against the floor in a long slow line so that he can fill as much of it with clay as possible. He wipes the excess off on a piece of the torn-up suit he’d found in that one carry-on, stuffed into the waistband of his boxers, before flattening the trowel against the long lumpy line to smoosh it down into the split between the bamboo logs.

He twists around, scooping more clay into his hand out of the metal bucket he’d made when they’d first landed on the island, and turns to smear it along the next crevice only to find you laying on your stomach, feet swinging casually back and forth, crossed at the ankles. You’ve got your arms on the floor in a bow shape, one hand on top of the other and your chin resting gently on both of them.

He jumps, gasping quietly, not having heard you shift into place.

“Jesus…”

“When did you fall from the train?” You ask him, your eyes all pure and innocent, unaware of the scare you just gave him.

“Ffff…” He has to stop himself from swearing because you’re looking at him, eager for info. The twinkle in your eye is confusing.

What does it mean? Curiosity is what it reminds him off but what kind? He’s not sure whether you believe him completely yet about how he’d come to be Bucky Barnes again. Ex-Winter Soldier. Avenger.

Or, he would have been an Avenger had he gotten back to New York.

“Nineteen forty-five.” He says, voice cracking a little in his low tone as his heart evens out.

You’re surprisingly quiet. Like a cat. Scary.

A word that Bucky had never thought he’d think about you but ever since you sat behind him on the beach, staring daggers until you’d finally gotten up and asked him to tell you his story, he’s seen you with new eyes.

Wary eyes.

He’s lowered his guard around you so much since landing on this stupid island. He forgot what it felt like to be this accessible. When had the last time been? With Steve?

You narrow your eyes. Brow knit together as you roll your lips in to clench them shut as you think. He can see you thinking a million things. Or maybe just one.

I can’t trust that guy. Maybe? Bucky hates feeling like this. He hates not knowing.

He doesn’t like guessing.

Why can’t he just know?

“Okay.” You suddenly say, then get back up and head down the ramp he’d built, towards the large signal fire to start putting fresh dried fronds so that it’ll be easier to light when the sun starts to set.

This isn’t the last time that this happens.

As he’s walking back towards the hut, carrying two bionically crafted metal buckets full of water, you pop out from behind a tree, swinging around it like you’re lost in thought but your eyes meet his.

“Shhh…” Bucky begins but manages to stop himself again.

His heart races, water sloshing as his feet stutter to a stop. Watching you hold onto the palm with your right hand as you stare at him inquisitively, pensive. Concentrating.

“Y/N, I really need you to stop doing that.” He tells you sternly, face kept as stoic as possible so that you won’t notice his surprise.

How the hell are you sneaking up on him?

“Why didn’t you remember Steve?” You wonder, that brow of yours furrowed again as you wait for his answer.

“I…” He hesitates, thinking back to the moment he’d seen Steve on the streets in Washington.

It’s like a blurry watercolor. He remembers it vaguely now. That part of his brain so addled that he has to focus to remember the rocked expression on Steve’s face.

“Bucky?” Steve had gasped, completely nonplussed by the sight of his formerly thought deceased best friend. For some reason, Bucky remembers a smudge of gunpowder and soot from explosions on his cheek, and a soft dusting of it on the left side of his neck.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky had asked.

He shuts his eyes for a second, trying to retain the memory. Clinging to the small details like the smudge to draw out the bigger picture.

“I was brainwashed, and Hydra had wiped my mind.” Bucky explains, opening his eyes to look at you, only to find you standing closer with your hands behind your back.

You’re staring up at him with those focused eyes. Unrelenting in their indiscernible sparkle. What is that?

“Why would they do that?” You wonder, voice sharp with annoyance.

“I guess it made it easier to control me. Nothing to hold me back, no personal attachments, no weaknesses.”

“Hm.” You hum, then turn and head back towards the beach leaving him itching to know your own thoughts.

*****

He’s walking back to the hut, munching on a banana, mouth full. His cheeks are completely stuffed. He turns to move around the large slate gray boulder, eroded along the bottom when the tide comes in, but you spring out from the other side so suddenly that he drops his banana and sputters around the white mush in his mouth.

He’s coughing, bits of banana flying out of his mouth as he places his metal hand on the boulder and hunches over, choking.

He can already see you talking but he can’t hear you over himself.

You don’t even flinch as a sticky bit of banana covered in his spit flies at you and lands on your cheek.

He gasps, flesh hand on his chest, struggling to move past the constriction of his throat.

“You okay?” You ask, brow furrowed in what looks like annoyance but also a small bit of concern.

“Eeehyeah.” He squeaks. “What were you saying?”

“You were captured in World War II?”

Bucky stares at you, his eyes trained on that muck of his banana on your cheek. He hesitates but then reaches out—and he fully expects you to cringe, pull away from him—cups the left side of your face and with his thumb quickly wipes it away.

“Er…yeah.”

“And Captain America—Steve?” Bucky nods at you. “Steve saved you?”

“Yes.” He replies with trepidation, embarrassed about spitting on you but also nervous about your question.

“Hmmm.” You reply. “Okay.”

You turn and leave him, staring down in slight depression over his now sand covered banana.

*****

All day you continue to jump out from hidden spots or from behind trees or suddenly poking your head over the hut’s foundation when he’s just reached the edge and scaring the shit out of him. Spouting off various questions about his story.

Nothing about just one particular thing. They’re all random so he can’t even decipher what’s got you so preoccupied. You ask about how he killed people, how many at a time, to whether he remembered how it felt to be taken over and whether he’d ever attempted to fight it.

You even asked him what his favorite place to have visited had been to date. Of course, Wakanda was at the top of that list.

“Nothing from when you were the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky had just shaken his head. He remembers the blood not the setting. The kill, not the people. When he’d explained that to you, you’d answered with another, “Oh. Okay.” And wandered off.

He tilts his head back, playing the day over and trying to decide whether this reaction of yours is good or bad. He honestly doesn’t know. He can’t tell. He’s completely baffled by you and he doesn’t think there’s going to be any resolution to his dilemma.

The water in the stream is cool and feels like bliss against his skin. Taking a bath right now had been a good choice. He’s been working hard all day and even though he can take the workload, he’s exhausted again.

Physically exhausted. A nice change of pace for his usual dire emotional state.

Tomorrow, he’ll start on the walls. Four of them. He’s not sure they need more than one room. They’ve already had to change in front of each other. He’s seen your body.

Quick nervous glances stolen at you to see if you were finished dressing or undressing over the past three months. Bucky knows the silhouette of your naked body by heart.

He licks his lips absentmindedly as he thinks about your figure this morning, no pants on, just your t-shirt. Standing on the beach in the glaring sunlight making your form black in shadow. He can’t see anything about it only the outline of it. Then you pull off your shirt and turn to toss it aside, twisting your body towards him to do so, exposing the hard, pebbled tips of your breasts.

What the hell are you thinking about, Bucky? He chastises himself, cheeks flaming underneath his beard.

He’d only seen the outline but damn if he doesn’t know what they look like. He’d gotten a good view that day you’d been upset about his admission to the unlikelihood of your rescue.

He climbs out of the tub, closes his eyes, pulling his pants on and then his shirt over his head as he stands there still slightly damp from his bath. He wills himself to stop thinking about your beautiful body.

It’s difficult. Three months on this island with you. Holding you when you sleep. Watching you during the day to make sure you’re safe. Listening to your lame jokes. Hearing you laugh and giggle and whine and cry. You’re all that Bucky already thinks about. That and rescue but you’re the most prominent.

Wanting you…sexually…Bucky wasn’t expecting that. He doesn’t let himself think about it because it can’t happen. It won’t.

Just because you’re the only woman on this island with him doesn’t mean that you’ll sleep with him. Besides, it’s been so long since he’s been with anyone like that, Bucky wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he got you in that position.

Or any position. He thinks salaciously.

He growls. Hating the images that flash through his head because he won’t ever get to make them so why think about them?

Maybe two rooms would be best? Five walls. After what he’s told you, maybe you don’t want to see him.

Making a sharp turn on the balls of his feet, he makes to head back to the fuselage only to have you crash against his chest.

“Damn it!” He nearly shouts.

Your hands push him back slowly as his heart races in surprise again.

“Why do you keep doing that?!” He demands.

“You killed all those people because they made you do it, right? Hydra?” You ask, face tired, eyes softer but that sparkle still shines through.

Why do they look like that? What does it mean? Bucky’s so tired of you doing this to him.

“Yes.” He shoves past you, irritated beyond words at this seemingly endless barrage of questions. “This is getting really annoying, so what else do you wanna know? Get it all out. Let’s get this over with.”

He can hear you trying to keep pace with his long gait and he almost feels bad but he’s too upset. If you’re going to tell him you can’t be around him, he wishes you’d just do it quickly. All at once. What’s the point of asking him all these questions when it seems you’ve already made up your mind?

You haven’t talked to him once, except to ask him these random questions. You haven’t touched him all day, except for right now to push him away.

He’s already missing the way your body feels pressed against his side. The comfort that he hadn’t known he would need, lost to him because he couldn’t just keep it to himself that he was a former assassin.

“How did you get better?” You ask, breathless.

“The King of Wakanda and his sister helped me get the programming out.” He explains shortly.

“Why did they sever your arm?”

“It was already mangled up, they just cut off more.” Now she’s asking about his arm? Does she hate that too?

“Do you remember them? The people you killed?”

Here Bucky actually hesitates. He’d once told someone that he remembers every single one, but he doesn’t remember them all. Not really. He remembers the blood. The pleas for help. The satisfaction as the mission was over. Then the cold of his slumber.

Only a few faces stick out to him. The important ones. The ones that he can never forgive himself for. They were all unforgivable but some…some he could never make up for. It was too late.

He’d lost his chance. He can never tell him that he’s sorry now. That if he could take it back, he would. That he hadn’t meant to ruin his life. That if he wanted revenge, he understood and this time, Steve can’t stand in the way.

“Yes.” Bucky answers, because he can remember them. Just not their faces. Or their names. It wasn’t really a lie what he’d said. In his heart, they’re all there. Reminding him of the choices he never had a chance to make.

“Are you completely better?”

Bucky rounds on you, his heart aching painfully at this question with its implication that he might hurt you. The idea that he could be the source of danger on the island for you. How dare you!

After he’d done nothing but be there for you. Keep you safe. Feed you. Build you shelter. He’d helped you.

“I don’t know!” He shouts. “No. Yes, I could kill you. I could wake up strangling you. What’s the point of asking me all these questions, Y/N? You already know what you wanna do, so just do it and save us both the time.

“I’ll get my stuff and sleep outside. Give you your space. When I finish the hut, I’ll move you in over there and come back here.” He promises, then turns to head into the circle of flickering orange light of the camp by the fuselage.

He makes a mental note. Four walls.

A soft warm hand closes around his metal wrist and he stops, turning to see you looking up at him.

*****

You tighten your hand around his wrist, a terrible fear building inside of your chest.

You. Alone. Until the end of your days on the island.

“Please don’t leave me.” You beg, taking your other hand and wrapping that one around his metal wrist too.

All day you’ve thought about what he says they did to him and what he did, and you’ve tried to be scared of him but…it’s Bucky!

You shrug.

Bucky who sprung into action when you first crash landed on this stupid island and kept you safe during a hurricane. Bucky who carved and flattened out a path for you and made you a tub and taught you to fish with a spear and tried to think of every possible way to get you off the island even going so far as to send out something as silly as a message in a bottle.

Bucky who is building you a hut on the beach. Bucky who laughs at your lame jokes—"What’s black and white, and red all over? A penguin with a sunburn."—and doesn’t shame you after you’ve thrown a tantrum because you’re so tired of mangoes and bananas and those oranges that sometimes taste like limes that you’re pretty sure aren’t oranges but neither of you knows what they are.

He doesn’t judge you when you cry into his chest at night when you wake up and look around after dreaming you’re back home only to find that you’re still on the island.

Bucky your savior.

“I-I know that you think what you did was bad, and it is…killing people is bad but Bucky…you’re-" You take a shaky breath and step closer, sliding your hand down and intertwining your fingers with his.

His hand responds eagerly, wrapping your smaller hand up and squeezing it with just enough pressure. It’s just the two of you here. This is the truth that never leaves your mind. He’s all you have. And even if there were eighty other people on this island, you’re staring to realize that Bucky is all you’d want either way.

“-you're my hero, Bucky. You saved me. Over and over again. I would be dead by now if you hadn’t been here with me. I would have died that first night.”

He parts those pretty, pouty pink lips. He still looks so absolutely healthy thanks to what you now know is those experiments that they ran on him back when he’d been capture in World War II.

His body is slightly browner. A golden tan compared to the pale peach he'd been when the two of you had found yourselves stranded but it fits him well.

When he blushes, it nearly kills you, his steel blue eyes dazzle you on a daily basis.

No. You can’t live without Bucky. On the island? You’d die. If you ever get rescued…you just might beg him to let you follow him around because you’re almost certain that what you’re feeling…

No. This is about the island. Don’t, Y/N. Don’t think it.

“Stay with me. I don’t care what you did. All I know is what you’ve shown me and you’re my only hope. I need you.” You confess, which is not what you know you feel but close enough without the selfish demands that what you really feel would put on him. “I want you here. Stay with me.”

You watch Bucky’s upset face jump from relieved to shocked to touched, back to confused which is how he’s been looking at you all day, and then finally as you tell him you need him, he softens.

This is Bucky as you like him best. That sweet look in his eyes, those healthy lips curved up into a soft smile.

He tightens his hand around yours, flexing his wrist to pull you even closer.

It takes your breath away as you’re suddenly standing inches from his chest, but he releases your hand and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to him.

Impossible flutters fill your stomach, warmth engulfs your heart.

“Of course, I’ll stay with you.” He promises to your heart’s great relief. “Of course.”

You smile into his shoulder and inhale that earthy and spicy musk of his. Damp sliced oak with a unique and exotic tang that fills your body with the promise of its burn.

You wrap your arms around him, eager to go to bed so that you can lay in his without excuse.

It’s how the two of you sleep now and you need it like you need fresh water.

He holds you for probably too long, but you don’t care.

When he finally releases you, the two of you make your way back towards the fuselage, hands now resolutely kept to yourselves.

You cook the fish that you’d caught earlier in the afternoon, and the two of you eat in giddy silence.

When bedtime finally rolls around, Bucky lays himself down first. As always, he lays against the wall of the fuselage, one hand underneath the almost flattened travel pillows that the two of you had salvaged from the plane crash. The other hand rests on his thigh.

He’s gone ahead and pulled his shirt and pants off leaving him in his boxers. It’s too hot in the fuselage for lots of clothes. You quickly peel off your own pants but keep the sleeveless shirt that you’d cut from an old t-shirt on, then settle in beside him.

You lay on your back at first and stare up at the sky through the fuselage window. The sky is glittering with stars. You turn to look at Bucky after a few minutes, staring up at his sleeping face for a few seconds before turning back to the stars.

Usually you take his metal arm and wrap it around you but that’s when he sleeps on his back. He’s never slept on his side like this before. Not at first.

You’re not sure how to prompt his arms around you. You need him to hold you. Assassin or not, he’s going to be an Avenger. Or already is? Or working for them? Either way, he’s good. Of that you’re absolutely sure.

You’d known it before he’d made his confession.

“Bucky?” You whisper, afraid of waking him because he’s been working so hard today.

“Mm?” He asks, maybe not as asleep as you thought?

“We do need to talk about what happened on the plane at some point though.” You begin. “The bomb? And the fact that it was only us?”

“Mm.” He agrees, jaw growing more and more slack.

“Bucky?”

“What?” He asks, slowly, a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

He’s sleepy…but you can’t help it! You haven’t talked to him all day. You’d had other stuff on your mind before his admittance to his perceived responsibility in the crashing of the plane.

“Do-Do you want me to help you trim your beard? It’s getting long.” You reach up without thinking and stroke the left side of his face with your right hand.

You touch only beard but there’s a small inhale from Bucky anyway.

“Tomorrow.” He replies, slightly less annoyed. “Go to sleep.”

You take your hand back and turn to stare out at the sky again. For five minutes you lay in absolute silence, itching to ask him a million other things about the hut and what he’s planning on adding to it or if there will be two rooms—please don’t let there be two rooms—or if it’ll be just like here in the fuselage but with more space?

You wanna know if he liked the fish or if he’d prefer if you cooked it differently. Should you just keep working on the thatch for the roof or does he want you to help with the clay too? Is there anything else you can build or help make? You’re not that handy but you can learn fairly quickly.

If he’s willing to teach you, you can pick anything up. You just need to focus.

“Bucky?”

“Ugh! Y/N, go to sleep. I’m tired.” He begs, this time clearly annoyed.

“Sorry.” You sigh, turning onto your own left so that you won’t be tempted to talk again.

You shut your eyes, squeeze them tight and remind yourself that he did promise to stay with you.

He might find you annoying but at least he’s willing to stay with you. Put up with you and all the shit you must put him through.

With a shaking sigh, you will your body to relax and sleep.

“Why do you have to ask so many questions?” Bucky asks, wrapping his right arm around your stomach.

He pulls you back towards him, tucking you against his chest and nuzzles his nose into your hair on the back of your head.

His voice is so low, so deep, your stomach flips several times in nervous flutters.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, whispering because he’s so quiet.

He suddenly knees your legs, pushing them up until you’ve got them folded, curling in against your body.

He pulls you closer, wrapping you up in both arms like a small ball, shaping his body to yours as he inhales deeply, then exhales slowly.

“Tomorrow, you can ask me whatever you want.” He promises, and for a split second, you think you feel the soft press of two plush lips against the nape of your neck.

Your heart goes into arrest as you try and figure out if that really happened. Did Bucky kiss you? Or maybe it just felt like it because he’s holding you so close?

“Sleep.” He orders.

You shut your eyes, and dream about whether Bucky had indeed kissed you or if it was only wishful thinking.

There’s a loud clatter. The sound of foliage being trampled.

Everything happens so quickly that it all happens both in perfect clarity and in a blur.

Bucky springs from around you, running towards the entrance of the fuselage, grabbing the spear by the entrance.

The sharpened metal from the plane glints in the dying embers of the fire as Bucky plants himself in front of the fuselage entrance protectively.

“Bucky?” You squeak, terrified.

“Stay inside.” Bucky orders and the next second you hear a loud keening cry.

It’s beastly but high pitched and it curls your bones into shards as fear makes your heart pound.

You hear other shouts. A man.

“Help!” He cries, loudly and you recognize the voice from the announcements before the plane had taken off after you’d just boarded instantly.

“Bucky!” You gasp, “The other pilot!”

“Stay here!” He calls to you as he takes off at a run.

He doesn’t get far as the pilot comes barreling through the trees, blonde hair disheveled and covered in muck. His pilot’s uniform is torn around the knees and ankles, his shirt sleeves ripped off. He’s dirty and beaten.

He doesn’t look nearly as good as you and Bucky do.

“What is it?” Bucky demands as the pilot turns and scrambles back away from the trees he’d just come from.

He’s headed right for the fuselage entrance and you’re already waiting at the edge.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, as he crosses into the shelter.

“What is it?” Bucky demands from him, but his question is answered just as he gets back to his feet.

That same wild, keening cry pierces the night, closer and louder. He’s suddenly thrown off of his feet, calling out in pain as he falls to the ground.

“Bucky!” You cry, terrified for him, because he has to be safe. Always.

He gets back up and as he turns around to face what knocked him over, your eyes find the frenzied eyes of a boar, large goring tusks stained red with blood.

You wheel back to the pilot who is shaking beside you in terror, but all of his clothes is dry. No red spots.

Bucky.

Courage floods you and you hurry to go to him, but he shouts at you.

“Stay back!”

You freeze as the boar comes barreling towards Bucky again.

This time he’s ready for it. He dives for one of the makeshift ropes you’d made from the various fabrics and palm fronds you’d been tearing apart and catches the boar around the back two hooves.

He dives on top of it, breaks his spear head off and then glides the glinting metal across the boar’s throat.

Vivid red splashes along the dirt as the animal’s cry is cut short. Bucky slides off it’s back and lays beside it, breathing heavily with the effort it took to hold it down.

You race to his side, heart thrumming wildly in your chest as your hands ceaselessly slide from his shoulders down to his arms, chest, sides, hips, thighs, and it’s on his calves where you find the deep gashes from the boar’s skewering.

“Bucky…” You begin, worried.

“I’ll heal, kitty cat.” He assures you.

He reaches up to stroke your left cheek with his right hand, inadvertently leaving a shocking streak of red boar’s blood.

“You’re so stupid.” You nearly growl at him, angry because he’s trying to play these cuts off.

You flatten your hands against as much of them as you can and frown at him.

“I know. On the plus side, we can have some bacon in the morning.” He smiles.

“I hate you.” You spit at him.

He chuckles. “I know.”

Buy me a Coffee

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[downywrites]

Bird says hi. Go drink water. <3

Techno and Punz have a little duke-out for their honor. After all, they are piglins, aren’t they? 

Nikki wasn’t sure how she got into this hot mess. All she wanted was to be in her bed, surrounded by flowers and bees, or, at the very least, next to Tubbo and a few of her friends. But no. She sighed, a sound completely drowned out by the territorial growling of the piglins in front of her. “Techno, Punz, please-” Even more intense growling drowned out her words. She stepped back a little from the snarling duo, knowing what was to happen. “Punz. You are really getting on my nerves.” Punz stepped closer to Technoblade, tusks bumping against his. His gold items jingled on his neck, knocking against Techno’s golden chains. “I am getting on your nerves? You really, really don’t know who you’re dealing with.” Ears flicked back, the two of them snarled at each other, tusk to tusk. Their pupils appeared to be nothing but slits. Nikki walked in between the two, trying to push the two brutes away from each other. “Look, guys. I know that both of you are piglin brutes and that your instinctual reaction is to fight each other. But in the SMP?” She shook her finger at the two, tutting disapprovingly. “No.”

Her shoes made clicking noises on the training grounds’ stone floor, nimble footsteps avoiding the deep gouges that Phil and Techno had made from sparring a little bit too hard. She walked around the two of them, smiling to herself at the way that she had charmed the two of them so quickly. She attributed it to the gold threads weaved into her hair. “If you two want to solve your problems, find one that won’t cause harm to the both of you. Okay?” She walked closer, chancing a pat on Punz’s head. Techno growled at the contact to his instinctual rival, but said nothing. She stepped back, waving at the two of them. “I’ll be outside if you need me!” She swept the floor with her skirt as she turned to walk away.

Techno and Punz glanced at each other, confused. Flicking his crimson eyes back and forth from the lady’s receding form and back to the other brute, Techno tilted his head to the side, completely puzzled. Punz looked equally as stuck, confused on how to solve the predicament. An uncomfortable silence pervaded the whole area. Sky blue eyes darted to the side, eyeing the floor sheepishly. “Uhhh...well, do you have any ideas?” Techno narrowed his eyes at him. “You started challenging me, and now you don’t know how to deal with it? Seriously.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing and crossing her arms. His chains clinked and tightened and loosened from his movements, causing Punz to stare at the sparkles of golden light for a little too long. A small snarl from the larger of the two made Punz shrink back a little. “How about a tickle fight?” His expression morphed into a look of pure confusion again. He stepped back, scratched up hooves catching on the floor a little and making him stumble a bit more than he should have. He stuttered violently, completely caught off guard. “A-a t-ti- what?” His tail whipped behind him a little as he moved.

Techno barely glanced at his tail, rolling his eyes again. “Look, Punz. I know you’re a cold-hearted mercenary, but you really don’t seem like it in my presence.” The smaller piglin’s fluff seemed to puff up a little from the insult. “You- why would I make myself look intimidating? You’re an ally!” “And you are currently challenging me to a duel for honor.” Techno had the gall to raise his eyebrow to the more diminutive brute. “You were saying?” Punz glared daggers at the other, stomping his hoof slightly. “Instincts, man. It’s not my fault! And besides, I’m your elder, technically speaking! And-” “You’ve never served in the bastion. Are you even known as a brute?” ‘You know, you’re making it really hard to explain myself.” Techno turned around, showing Punz his back. His training pants had no hole.

“Punz, if you served, your tail would have been docked.” Punz lowered his stance, growl catching in his throat. “Why don’t you let me finish-”

“I wasn’t interrupting until now.” Rage boiled deep in his chest, bubbling up into his throat. “Alright, that’s it man.” He lunged at him, instincts and anger hastening his actions. A simple backwards arm parry was enough to throw the man off balance. “Stop with the instinctual crap. The Egg messed up your personality. We need to handle this now. Like, right now.” He waved his hand dismissively. “We don’t have time to have a duel.” He grit his teeth, tusk bases making a quiet ‘screech’ noise as he did so. “You’ve been fighting me this entire time. I have to make you calm down. And if the only way is to have a different kind of duel, then so be it.” “Other kind of duel?” Techno stepped back and looked towards him, sighing loudly. “You already forgot, didn’t you? Tickle fight.” He unsheathed his sword, making the mercenary step back himself.

Metal impacted on stone. Sparks flew from the impact of netherite on the training floor. “No weapons. The first one to give up loses. Got it?” He kicked the sword to the side. The sword careened towards the weapons rack, knocking into the rack’s bamboo base. Techno tilted his head towards it, urging the smaller of the two to do the same. Punz unsheathed his sword, hesitantly walking over to the weapons rack and placing it gingerly down. He stepped uncertainly towards the other, ears flicking a little bit in worry. Techno’s hands shot out in a placating gesture. “I promise I won’t hurt you. You’re not very stable, are you?” Punz didn’t feel like answering that. Something was...wrong. Like something was pulsing in his head, perverting his thoughts….

Kill.

He lunged towards him, snarl revealing his golden fangs. Techno swiftly ducked, eyes widened halfway in slight surprise. “What?” He whirled around, jumping and rolling away from another egg-spurred lunge at him. The voices filled him in on their own information.

Instincts. The egg is preying on instincts.

Punz is scared, don’t actually hurt him.

E?

Omelette!

Kill him

Techno parried his passionate punches, understanding little of what the voices were saying but getting a general grasp of the situation. A grab for his throat pushed him to the floor, putting him face to face with an irate Punz. He pushed him off with his legs, throwing him into the ceiling. Punz wheezed as he made contact with the top of the training room. Techno rolled away from the impact zone, allowing the man to slam into the floor. Punz laid there, breathing labored slightly from the attack. Techno stood up slowly, eyes trained on the prone form in front of him. “Punz..?”

A small groan from the mercenary made him breathe out a sigh of relief. “At least you’re not dead. Are you okay?” The elder piglin, winded from the sudden movements, struggled to his elbows. “I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what just took control there…” Techno sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t worry. I’m not sure either. I think the voices said...the omelette? Ah, the Egg.” He kneeled back down, extending a hand to the struggling hybrid. He took it gratefully, legs wobbling slightly as he stood up. Punz trembled as he stood, tail between his legs. “I-I’m sorry. I-”

“Stop apologizing. You need to stop. You are fine. Look.” Techno extended his arms, showing that Punz had done no damage at all to him. “Nothing happened. See?” He walked him away from the weapons rack, moving to the middle of the room once more. Wiping his brow, crimson eyes trained on to the other. “You need to get those instincts under control, hm? Still want to do that tickle fight?” Punz’s face hardened a little. “I think that would be helpful.” Techno snorted humorously. “Oh please. I already won against your instincts right there. I think this fight is more for our entertainment at this point.” Punz opened his mouth, ready to retort, but slowly shut it, realizing that his ally was right. A knowing smirk blossomed on the anarchist’s face.

“Shut up, Techno.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Curse that smug piglin. Small grumbles came from the mercenary, tail flicking in mock annoyance. “Whatever. What are the rules for this...fight?” He raised an eyebrow at  the censoring of the word. “No rules. Just no harming the other and...well..just use your common sense.” Punz nodded, squatting into a fighting stance. Techno did the same, eyes narrowing as if he was truly fighting with the other. Once again, silence reigned in the training room. Not a single thing moved in the area. Not a single weapon shifted on the rack. Not a single drop of water dripped down from a stalactite onto the floor. Then, without a single noise, Techno struck. He pounced at Punz, tackling him into the cool stone floor. Without a single moment of hesitation, he dug his hands into the opposing piglin’s ribs, rubbing his nails over the bones. Punz pushed at Techno, already giggling like mad. He poked at Techno’s ribs in retaliation, eyes widening slightly when it had little to no effect on the other. “Ahare yohohur rihihibs nohohot sehehensihihitive?” Techno grinned, revealing the etchings in his tusks a little bit more. “Looks like I’m already winning.” He moved upwards, spidering his fingers over the man’s ribs one by one. “One, two, three…” “Ohohoh hehehell nohoho!” Punz pushed him off, reversing the roles quickly. He pulled his training shirt up, hands skittering over his stomach.

Surprised,Techno burst into deep chuckles, twisting away from his hands. He growled playfully through his soft laughter. He dug his fingers into his upper ribs, earning a choked bout of laughter from Punz. “I notihihiced that you cahahan’t sahay thehe wohohord. Tihihickle, little piglin~” He singsonged into his ear, making the other squeak and slow down his scribbling. “Oh? Dihid thahat wohork? Tickle, tickle tickle-” “Eeehehe! Dohohon’t!” Techno rolled him back over, pinning him to the floor. He quickly grabbed his wrists, pinning his arms and exposed his underarms. He poked at the hollows, testing the sensitivity of the area. The piglin below him squealed at the sensation. “Gehehet ohout!”

“Oh, Punz~ I think I might win~” He scratched at the ticklish flesh there, bracing himself for the reactive buck from the smaller piglin. Listening to the man’s squeaky laughter, Techno cracked a teasy smile. “I can see why some of the others called you a squeaky toy.” The reference to the nickname alone made his laughter go up an octave. “Oh, you like that? Such a cute little squeaky toy you are, Punz~” Techno moved down to his stomach, digging his hands through the bleached fluff on his tum. He clawed lightly at the slight pudge on his stomach, listening to the subsequent squeak of laughter and grinning a little wider. “Eheheha! Tehehehechnoho!” Ihihi-” A small squeak disrupted his words. “Ihihi! Plehehease!” Techno dug his fingers into the fluff a little more at his words. “You know that the only way I’ll stop is if you give up. What do you say, Punz? Are you going to yield?” Punz shook his head no, a permanent smile on his face.

Techno’s hand wandered down to his hips, squeezing slightly there. Punz’s breath caught in his throat. His struggling increased thricefold, cueing Techno into the sensitivity of the spot. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is this a good spot?” “Nohoho, not there….” Techno readied his fingers, ready to drill into his hips. The sensation of Punz’s tail on his side made him cover his mouth with his free hand. “Yohohou-” “Did you really think I wouldn’t have a plan? Pff. Rookie move.”

While Techno was distracted, Punz ripped his hands from his rather loose grip and latched onto his sides, squeezing there quickly and with differing intensities. Techno gripped his wrists by instinct, turning his head to the side and casting his gaze away from the man. His laughter was deep and charming, a noise that Punz didn’t get to hear often, even in the most humorous of situations. Grinning, Punz purred lowly into his ally’s ear. “Look how the tables turn, hmm?” He continued to brush his tail over the lower part of his spine, relishing in the resulting twitches and pitch changes of the anarchist’s laughter. Techno weakly pushed at him, allowing him to have his fun for the moment.

Crimson eyes met sharp blue. “Yohohohou’ll rehehegrehehet thihihis lahahater.” “Oh? And when is later?” “Rihihight nohow.” Techno pushed him back down, grateful that Punz didn’t have a shirt on. He drilled his fingers into his fluff-covered hips quickly, making the other squeal with laughter. Cheeks burning, Punz covered his mouth, eyes blown wide in surprise. “Pff, thahat wahas cute.” He repeated his actions, making the man squeal with laughter and push at him as much as he could. “Tickle tickle~” The two of them rolled over each other, laughing as the other tickled spots as well as they could in their positions.

The sound of wood clacking on the stone floors made them pause. Techno, the one on top of the pile, turned around. A very confused Phil stared back at him. “Er, Tech? What happened?”

Techno got up quickly, pulling a panting and still giggling Punz to his feet. “Uh…” He glanced at the still very incapacitated man, stepping in front of him as if to shield him from the gaze of the bird hybrid. “A fight.” Philza snorted, hiding his smile with his hand. He walked over to the weapons rack, cane making a rhythmic clacking noise in time with his footfalls. “I see. Techno?” He startled slightly at his name, making Punz giggle a little more. “Shh, Punz.” He whispered to the mercenary behind him. “Tech?” The call of his name shifted his focus back to the winged man. “Yes?” Phil turned to look at him, hands on his hips. “Did you really decide to throw your sword in the training grounds again?” All of a sudden, the floor looked mighty fine.

“Techno.” Techno laughed nervously, powerwalking towards the exit. “Haha, wow! I think I’m going to take a walk.” Newly recovered from his after giggles, Punz chortled again. “I think I won that!” He called after Techno, grinning when he got no reply in return. Philza shook his head, tutting slightly. “That piglin…I just sanded his sword for him.” He made eye contact with the piglin, smile breaking out on his face. His wings puffed up in greeting. “So, what brings you here?” Punz’s tail wagged slowly behind him. “What he said. Just a fight.”

And if they had to have a few more rematches to see which one of them was better than the other? That wasn’t something that any of the syndicate heard about, no.

#hmm this ain't my best but have it anyways #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!techno #ler!techno #switch!techno #lee!punz #ler!punz #switch!punz #my writing #tickle fic #downywrites

[fifteenskies15]

Promise

(Sanemi Shinazugawa x Demon! Reader)

Admin's note: I got stressed and bored so that's why I made this, also in this fic, reader is like Nezuko (or Lady Tamayo) who manage to get out of Muzan's control, also reader have a struggle to speak normally because of the long usage of the bamboo muzzle they got from Sanemi.

Also...

It's S O F T Sanemi Hours

I'm fully aware he sounded out of context here, so sorry for the inconvenience

(Since it's for both male and female reader, I'll use "they/their" pronoun in this)

----

"Hey, (Name) I'm back"

A certain scar faced man said as he knocked the door of the small shrine, you peek out of your shrine and see Sanemi smiling at you "Been waiting for me that long, huh? Sorry about that" you came out of the building and shook your head, meaning that you didn't wait for him that long and you just lay your head on his shoulder.

The both of you looked at the full moon that shine brilliantly tonight, hard to believe that in such a beautiful night, many demons are attacking and eating humans.

"Mmrrghh...?" you let out a soft noise as you turn your attention to him, though you can't say anything due to your bamboo muzzle, Sanemi somehow understand what you said, he looked at you with a smile everyone never sees "Yeah (Name)? Is there anything you need?"

You stayed silent for a while then point at your bamboo muzzle "Uuuh..."

"You want me to take your muzzle off?"

You nodded and smile through your eyes, Sanemi knows that you won't hurt him so he just smiled and gently took your muzzle off, once it's off, Sanemi gaze at your face.

Still as beautiful as I remembered

You give Sanemi a toothy grin and cupped his face as you try to speak "N-Nemi... No work too hard... 'Kay? ...I'm worried... O-of Nemi..."

Sanemi knows you kind of having a struggle to speak and have a childlike demeanor (kind of like Nezuko) for almost several years, somehow he finds it cute.

He put his hand atop of your hand and lean in to search more of the contacts "Yeah, I promise I won't work too hard"

You smiled in satisfactory and grabbed his hand as you watch the full moon together "Moon... Beautiful..." you say smiling and point at the moon "Yeah, moon's look beautiful but you're even more beautiful" you blushed at his statement and hid your face under the sleeve of your kimono "N-Nemi... F-flatter me too m-much" he just chuckled and ruffle your (H/C) hair "I'm just stating the obvious, ya know!"

You looked at him through your sleeve with a pouty face which made Sanemi's heart skipped a beat

You're so fucking cute that it's hard to believe that you're a thing I should've kill

"Genya... Okay?"

Sanemi just shrugged nonchalantly "I dunno, that brat is still here despite I don't want him to" you eyed him sadly, why does he act so distant towards his own little brother? "Why... Nemi said that?" he looked at you with something close to sadness in his eyes "He shouldn't be here, he could've just stay back, live his own life and have wife and children and that he enjoy life to its fullest"

You just looked at him then hugged his arm, slightly rubbing it to cheer him a bit "Genya... Good person, Genya wants help Nemi..."

"He didn't have to" He said avoiding your gaze for a while "You haven't change a bit, you're still very nice towards us since we're just kids" he looked back at you again "Even when you have become a demon, you're still as nice as when you were a human..."

You smiled at him "Thanks to Nemi... Nemi remember when Nemi found me?"

"How the hell can I forget? I'm surprised to hear that you survived demon attack but I didn't expect you to be alive..." he said as he caressed your hair "I was happy that you were alive, but it really surprised me that you have become one of them, heck, you even attacked me! I'm just glad I can talk some sense to you" he sighed and look at the ground "You are one of the most precious people I don't want to lose, (Name), It would break me if I ever lose you..." he layed his head on your lap as he looked up at you with adoration.

"Do you remember when we pretended to be a married couple when we're still kids?" he asked as he put his big hand on your smooth face, you smiled at him and put your hand atop of his "I r-remember... Nemi make a good husband..."

A slight blush creeped on his face "Heh, yeah... You even make a decent ohagi for me" you smiled and caressed his fluffy white hair as he closed his eyes, enjoying your gentle touch

"Nemi... Can we... Live together one day? What if o-one day... I di-die?"

He opened his eyes and looked at you "The heck you're talking about?! You won't die! And we will have a life together!"

"But..."

"No buts, (name), I believe you will stay alive, one day you can walk under sun hand in hand with me, I will find a way so that you could do that" he then scowled "Even if that means I gotta ask that Kamado brat, I will do it for you and it's a promise"

You looked at him and took his hand and kissed the palm of his hand, smiling "Thank you... Nemi..."

Sanemi blushed at what you did

"Damn it, (name), I should be the one who did that"

You giggled at him and continue to caress his hair "Nemi... You promise we have a family together? Me, Nemi with Genya and future kids?"

Once again, Sanemi blushed deeply as you mentioned "future kids"

"Goddamn it, (name)... I should be the one that said that too, not other way around..."

This time you laughed softly at him "Sorry... I like to tease Nemi..."

He looked up at you then grinned "Once this is all over, I'll be the one who always tease you"

You raised your eyebrows at him, challenging him "Nemi can't do that..." Sanemi let out a soft 'heh' as he put his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently "You sure about that?"

You blushed this time, but still smiling at him "I'm sure..."

He then sat up and gently cupping your cheeks, nose touching as he look at your eyes deeply "Once we all kick Muzan's ass, I promise I will stay by your side, I will protect you, and We will live together forever with our future family, I swear by Oyakata-sama's name You will walk under the sun with me and we will live together happily until one of us cross the sanzu river"

You nodded at him with a smile, his warm breath fanning your lips before he connected it with yours.

The kiss is surprisingly gentle even for someone as rash as Sanemi, you smiled against his lip, and once you both parted the kiss, he hugged you tightly and buried his head on your shoulder

"I love you, (name)"

You return the embrace, slightly tearing up.

"I love you too, Nemi..."

----

*Admin's feral noise*

How was it? It's full of nonsense, weird, and make you confused, eh? Sorry I made this while I'm stressed, my brain didn't cooperate with me so that's why it sucks :v I made Sanemi out of context, my bad, I have to be honest it's kind of hard to write him with his harsh persona (even tho he's not THAT harsh) anyways, I think that's all, still, I hope you enjoy this too, and sorry if you don't like it

#kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba scenario #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

[tenmidnightthoughts-blog]

How I would rewrite Mulan 2020 (final)

#5 The final battle

Mulan is alone once again. She has travelled a distance after leaving the soldiers behind, and set up camp to rest for the night. The small fire flickers as she stares at it miserably, what will her family, her father, say when she comes back? Will they even be happy to see her? Or shun her for being a disgrace to the family. Mulan is secretly thankful for the long journey back, it gives her some time before she faces the truth.

Suddenly, she hears a thundering of hooves and shouts of men from below. She quickly stamps out her fire and crouches down to peek over the edge of a cliff, seeing scores of Rourans on their horses racing along the cliffside. “DOWN WITH THE EMPEROR!” one of the soldiers shouted, and his fellow soldiers hollered in unison. Mulan gasps and crouches down lower, heart pounding. Hadn’t they eliminated the enemy in their last battle? Why are they not going towards where the Imperial army is stationed to fight?

Mulan knew a warning had to be sent to the Imperial city to protect the Emperor. She quickly got on her horse and started towards the base camp.

********************************

Upon arriving at the base camp, Commander Tung is shocked and immediately draws his sword at her. “I thought I made it very clear that I will kill you if I ever see you here again.” he said. Mulan immediately dropped to her knees and lowered her head, “I’m sorry Commander. But I need to come back to warn the Imperial army. The Rourans are not coming here to attack anymore. I have seen thousands of them headed elsewhere, and I think they are going to the Imperial City.”. “What? How do I know I can trust you? What if you are working with the enemy?” Commander Tung scoffed, “Even if you are telling the truth, what if you were wrong and we moved this battalion away from our station, allowing the Rourans to invade further?”.“Please, you have got to believe me, I saw it with my own eyes.” Mulan begged, “Commander, you trusted me as a soldier as Hua Jun, how is Mulan any different?”.

Commander Tung paused, frowning in thought. Suddenly, a voice piped up from the crowd that gathered around them, “I believe Mulan!”.

Shang stepped out from the crowd, followed by Cricket. “Me too!” Yao shouted and joined them. “Me three!”, “I believe Mulan too!” Ling and Chien-Po both said. Soon, a number of men started joining in, remembering what Mulan did for them and how Mulan trained alongside them as a comrade. Commander Tung looks at his men’s faces in surprise. This girl has managed to command the support and loyalty of these soldiers even without being a commander or even being a boy. He then looks back at Mulan’s face and sees pure determination. Her eyes are ablaze with passion and sincerity. He sighs and says, “Ok. I am only sending you and a few soldiers. Your group will be the messenger to warn the Emperor. I sincerely hope you make it in time.”

****************

Mulan, Shang, Cricket, Ling and Chien-Po ride all night, finally arriving at the Imperial City at mid-day. It seems peaceful, no signs of attacks or invasions. 

Unbeknownst to them, the Rouran soldiers have already entered the city in disguises, dressed as ordinary folk. Assassins in black run stealthily on the roofs, climbing walls and pillars, sneaking past palace guards unnoticed. All of them wait for the signal by their chief, Bori Khan.

****************

The team reaches the palace and is presented to the Emperor at court.

“Dear Emperor, we are sent by Commander Tung to send you a message. We have reason to believe that the Rourans may be headed to the Imperial City to attack.” Shang said.

“What, but I thought they were eliminated in the battle by your battalion?” the Emperor said in disbelief. “Yes, but Mulan has seen thousands of Rouran troops still alive, even after that battle,” Shang replied. “Mulan? A girl, what is a girl doing out in the battlefields…?” the Emperor wondered looking at the petite lady kneeling in front of him. Mulan shifts nervously and braces herself to tell the truth. But suddenly, a huge explosion is heard outside

Bori Khan releases a firecracker into the sky, big and bright for all to see. The Rourans remove their disguise and start their attacks. Screams and shouts are heard all over the city, as the Rourans mercilessly terrorized and slaughtered citizens, starting fires to burn the city to the ground.

A court official scrambled into court in panic, “Emperor! The Rourans, they are here!!” 

The courtroom goes into panic. As if out of nowhere, the Rouran assassins materialize and start attacking the people at court. Guards rush in and start fighting off the assassins. 

Mulan and her team sprung into action, assisting some of the guards to surround the Emperor and escort him out of the courtroom. Once outside, they stare in shock as they see hundreds of Rouran assassins in battle with palace guards already. Bori Khan is amongst them, and as he spots the Emperor, he screams at his men to target him.

Some guards are left behind to fend off the enemies while Mulan and her friends continue to escape with the Emperor, Bori Khan hot on their heels. They run into a half-constructed building in the palace courtyard: Bamboo scaffoldings still in place, raw exposed bricks and unpainted walls. Bori Khan grabs a firework from his soldier and lights it, aiming right at the building. The firework launches with a deafening blast and explodes at the group, knocking all of them down in different directions and causing bamboo and bricks to fall from above. Mulan and the Emperor are separated from the rest due to the debri. She struggles to stand, and helps up the Emperor. “Guys! Are you ok? Can you all hear me?” Mulan shouts over the debri. 

On the other side of the debris, Shang, Cricket, Yao, Ling and Chien-Po stand on guard, bracing themselves as Rouran soldiers surround them. “Yes we are fine! Take the Emperor and run!” Shang screams back, his eyes never leaving the enemies. Cricket pulls his arrow back a little harder, strings becoming taut. With a launch of his arrow, the soldiers charge at each other screaming out their battle cries.

Mulan is worried about her friends, but she knows her priority is to protect the most important man in China. “Emperor, let’s go!” she said and the Emperor nods, getting up to his feet. But both of them stop in their tracks as they see the person standing before them: Bori Khan.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Bori Khan smiles sinisterly. Mulan immediately steps in front of the Emperor and pulls out her sword, “Not a step further,” Mulan warns fiercely. Bori Khan lets out a laugh. “Is this all you have left to protect you dear Emperor? A girl? What has happened to your mighty army?” Bori Khan mocks. “Step aside lady, I have to avenge my father by killing his murderer. If you don’t interfere I might just let you go.”. “I AM A SOLDIER OF THE IMPERIAL ARMY, it is my duty to protect the Emperor. If you want him you have to get through me first!” Mulan shouts angrily.

Bori Khan scoffs, and then charges at her with his sword. Their swords strike at each other, metal clashing against metal, the ringing echo throughout the building. Bori Khan’s strikes are hard and fast, but Mulan is able to match him, avoiding his attacks left and right fluidly, never attacking back and only using defensive moves, but she is being pushed backwards.

Mulan trips over a stray bamboo pole and narrowly misses Bori Khan’s sword. She tries to land a kick on him, but her kick merely pushes him back a little. He uses this chance to grab her leg and swings her, tossing her to the side like a ragdoll. She crashes into the scaffolding and broken poles fall on her, seemingly knocking her out.

Bori Khan scoffs, now that he has gotten rid of the little nuisance, he turns his attention back to the Emperor. “I am going to make this torturously slow for you, you don’t get to enjoy the mercy of a quick death…” Bori Khan says. The Emperor stares him down, not showing an inch of fear, “Do your worst,” he replies.

Mulan struggles to open her eyes and stand, she sees Bori Khan get closer and closer to the Emperor and panics. Her hands feel around on the ground for her sword, but it wraps around a bamboo pole instead, one that is long like her training pole. 

A rock strikes Bori Khan on the head. In anger, he turns around and sees Mulan holding the bamboo pole. Bori Khan charges at her, and Mulan charges towards him too. Right at the last second, she vaults herself upwards with the pole, soaring high above like how she did during training. Bori Khan is taken by surprise, he looks up but is blinded by the bright golden light of the sun, filtering from a hole in the roof above. He thinks he sees the shape of a bird, glowing brilliantly in orange and gold. Another blink and he sees what it really is: Mulan flying down towards him. Before he can react, he is knocked to the ground by Mulan who lands a heavy kick right in his face as she crashes down. Without a moment’s hesitation, she takes out her father’s sword and stabs the enemy in the chest.

*****************************

The war is finally over. The Imperial army has managed to defeat the Rouran soldiers, and thanks to Mulan, the Emperor is safe. She is gifted a new sword and her very own medallion, just like her father’s, as proof that she has earned the greatest honour from the Emperor himself. The medallion has a phoenix engraved on it instead of a dragon, requested by the Emperor to truly represent Mulan’s spirit.

The Emperor handed these items personally to her in front of a cheering crowd, and Mulan is present at the ceremony as herself, a lady, not hiding behind bindings and a suit of armour. “You have shown great loyalty and courage in adversity, and you have saved my life ands China. For this, your crimes of lying about your true nature will be pardoned. I hereby decree Mulan as a general in the Imperial army, our first female general,” the Emperor announces, smiling. The crowd bursts into an even louder cheer. Mulan bows and says, “It will be an honour Emperor. But…”. “But..?” the Emperor questions. “Before I assume my duties, I would like nothing more than to go back to my village to see my family first.” Mulan replies.

********************************

News spread fast. Mulan’s home village has heard everything, from how Mulan had disguised herself as a man to go to the army, to how she protected the Emperor with her life and helped to save the country. It is no wonder they all stare in awe as Mulan and her horse trot slowly back into the village, making Mulan feel a little awkward. She sees her little family standing at the edge of the crowd and jumps down, running towards them. Her mother and sister rush into her arms, welcoming her back warmly and crying in relief. Mulan then sees Hua Zhou standing at the back, face unreadable. She goes to him and bows her head, “I am sorry for how reckless I was, to have done such a thing that could have disgraced the whole family….”. Hua Zhou lifts her head and says, tears glistening in his eyes, “My dear Mulan, I am just glad to have you back,” he pulls her into a tight hug.“It is an honour to be your father.”.

#mulan #mulan film 2020 #mulan 2020 #mulan live action #disney

[izanyas]

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow (16)

It sure is an update

Rating: M Words: 12,900 Warnings: violence against children, Wei Wuxian’s general trauma, Xue Yang’s general trauma, you know the drill

[Read from prologue]

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow Chapter 16

Wei Wuxian was not one to fear gaudy and abandoned places. The worst nests of resentful spirits and corpses he had seen through both his lives were oft not those that people pointed to: he had walked, once, through the bright and sunlit walls of a ruined brothel, where the century-old memory of a woman murdered men who failed to meet its standards. He had lived, once, on a ground poisoned with corpses. He had fed on vegetables grown out of deadened earth.

No one would think this place so lively, he could recall one man saying on the rare occasion Wei Wuxian graced the communal dinner with his presence.

It had been a warm day of fall, and the sky was still lit with the last rays of sunlight.

The man had drunk and delighted in the mellow liquor which Wei Wuxian brewed in the darkness of the bloodpool cave. He had never tasted liquor before that day. They were celebrating the opening of the first barrel, months after Wei Wuxian had first crossed the path through the mountains in company of the Wen refugees.

Such sweetness can be born out of a mass graveyard!

They had laughed around him, men and women gaunt with persecution, their hands shaking still from entrapment and abuse. Wei Wuxian had not known how to answer him. Wen Qing had sat beside him at the longest table and put a hand on his arm, as had become her habit since the day Lan Xichen had looked at him in horror. She had waited out the moment Wei Wuxian's face would twist into a smile and feel a little less cold.

The old woman they all called 'Grandmother', though she was not related to any of them, had shushed the crowd then and pointed to the biggest of the shacks. He sleeps, she said, her aged face softened with wine and company.

Wei Wuxian felt cold once more.

So Wei Wuxian was not squeamish or afraid as he followed the omega Xue Yang through the misty ruins of Yi City. He had seen worse things in his life than the slow and heavy-legged corpses standing still on the broad village street. He had smelled more rancid smells going in and out of the Burial Mounds than he did now, as an old man with his head cut open watched him with empty eyes.

He was not afraid either of Xue Yang's tale of woes; of the loss of his lover and the begging he did to have the man's soul restored with the help of a cultivator. Xiao Xingchen was framed, he said. Xiao Xingchen was accused of the murders which the man called Song Lan committed.

Wei Wuxian had thought Xue Yang to be lying when he handed him the sealing pouch through which he felt but a faint echo of spirituality. He knew him to be lying, now, as he walked through the dead city with familiar shivers on his skin.

Now, he thought as Xue Yang kicked open the door of a funeral home with the same strength he had kicked that old alpha woman, how to get out of this mess.

"Not far now, young master Mo," Xue Yang said.

His voice was hollow with greed.

"I had to keep him cold, I had to preserve him. But I know you'll be able to help."

"You seem very sure of yourself," Wei Wuxian replied. "I never said anything about being able to revive the dead."

Xue Yang looked at him. Exhaustion had reddened his eyes and given his left eyelid a twitch. "I feel like I've waited so long to meet you," he said, near-reverent. "Surely this is the work of fate."

The closer he got to his goal, the less he seemed to care about keeping up appearances.

Wei Wuxian followed him anyway. The sealing pouch in his hand weighed even less than a feather, and it felt as though a breeze would be enough to vaporize the hint of a soul trapped within. He barely dared to tighten his fingers around it.

He had come here with a purpose, after all. If Lan Wangji had been by his side then and taken the cursed arm out to point the way, Wei Wuxian had no doubt that the thing would have thrashed and struggle with proximity to its goal. Wei Wuxian may as well see what the liar Xue Yang wanted out of the Yiling Patriarch.

Plus, there was the issue of that very familiar aura.

Xue Yang stopped before the finest of the engraved coffins around the cold and unlit hall. This time he did not kick it open with his foot; instead he put down the elegant white sword he carried and bent to push the lid open inch by inch, his tired face spasming with effort and grief.

Xiao Xingchen lay within the oakwood box. A glance was enough to tell that his body had been tended to and washed, and the ribbon around his eyes changed. Were it not for how still and bloodless his skin was, one could easily have thought he was merely sleeping.

Wei Wuxian spent a second simply watching the man and taking in his features. He had not known him in life and never would, but looking at the faint traces of laugh lines around his mouth, at the kind curve of his brow, he thought he might have liked to.

It was not often he met someone with such close relation to his mother.

"Well?" Xue Yang said to him.

Impatience was ridding him of pretense. Wei Wuxian heard on his voice the same desperation with which he himself had begged, once, asking, What should I do?

What should he do?

"How did he die?" he asked.

Xue Yang hissed. "The murderer Song Lan killed him," he replied, batting a hand through the air. "Never mind this—can you restore his spirit?"

"I never said I could."

"I know you can. I can tell."

Pity, Wei Wuxian thought, was the appropriate thing to feel, watching Xue Yang shake and sway on his feet, his gloved hand resting on the edge of the carved coffin.

He looked away. "First," he said, "I'd like to know how long you've been in possession of the Stygian Tiger Seal."

Xue Yang's face froze and paled. A second later he laughed, and the source of Wei Wuxian's shiver—the source of the cold and dead aura weighing over Yi City—fell out of his sleeve.

The two halves of the Seal looked as smooth and whole as if Wei Wuxian had never destroyed them.

"That's the Yiling Patriarch for you," Xue Yang murmured, and the devotion in his eyes made Wei Wuxian's skin crawl. "I knew I couldn't fool you."

"You weren't hiding very well," Wei Wuxian replied.

"Neither were you. I've spent so long studying you, learning you. Those idiots in Lanling in Yunmeng—" Xue Yang spat the words out as if they were poison, "—they never knew you. Not like I do. I could tell at a glance who you were, and the moment I heard that Jiang Yanli and her son had been sighted in Qinghe in company of Lan Wangji and an omega cultivator..."

He took a step forward. His crazed eyes caught the setting light of day and glowed redly.

"I always knew you'd come back," Xue Yang whispered. "All those years. I saw that summoning array of yours in Lianfang-Zun's hidden chamber, and I knew you had created it so you could come back one day." He paused in thought and added, "Only, I never expected Mo Xuanyu of all people to do it. It seems I was mistaken about him."

"Omega cultivators are dime a dozen now," Wei Wuxian said carefully.

Part of him wanted to step back, worried for the insanity lodged so deeply within Xue Yang's eyes. Another refused to get away as long as he did not secure the Seal and destroy it again.

It should never have existed in the first place. This time, Wei Wuxian would make sure both halves were stripped of power and could never be made whole.

"What makes you think I am Wei Wuxian?"

Xue Yang laughed so loudly that nested birds took flight through the wooden beams of the hall.

"Who else could you be?" he near-yelled. "Which other omega would risk being in Lan Wangji's presence? I knew he couldn't have killed you. I knew they were all lying."

Wei Wuxian had no time at all to absorb this information and wonder at it—Xue Yang threw the Seal up and caught it again, and he said, "Now, back to our business. I want you to restore this man's spirit, senior Wei. I'm not afraid to force you to, no matter how much I owe you."

"I can't," Wei Wuxian replied.

Xue Yang's smile waned. "Don't lie to me now," he said. "I have spent enough time in the company of your Ghost General to know the truth."

Wen Ning, Wei Wuxian recalled then. He really should have thought to call Wen Ning before he got to the funeral home.

Instead of grabbing the bamboo flute, he lifted the pouch still held preciously within his hand. "There is barely any spirit left here," he declared. "Regardless of how Xiao Xingchen truly died—he had no wish to remain behind in any way. His life energy had left him before he gave his last breath."

"And Wen Ning did?!" Xue Yang roared. His hand once again found the white sword which must belong to Xiao Xingchen; he drew it out of its sheath, pointed the sharp end of it at Wei Wuxian. "What does Wen Ning have to cling to that Xiao Xingchen does not?"

Wen Ning had a sister, a clan. He had the hope which Wei Wuxian had instilled in him and which had led to his death—the courage to stand up and protect others, the selflessness to do so. Right until the moment his injuries had killed him, Wen Ning had not despaired.

If Xiao Xingchen was Xue Yang's mate, if he was truly a man Baoshan Sanren had deemed worthy of her teachings, then it stood to reason that he felt no such attachment to life.

"Do your grieving, Xue Yang," Wei Wuxian said lowly. "There is no way to raise this man from the dead again."

Xue Yang's hand shook around the handle of the white sword.

He dropped it to the ground as he brought the two pieces of the Seal together, and Wei Wuxian's fingers grabbed the bamboo flute at the same time he felt the cold, resentful energy on his skin.

- 

Lan Sizhui could not look at any of the children around him in the eye.

It was his fault, he knew, that they were trapped here. It was his fault they had to huddle together in the derelict shed of a village house, frightened and trapped, while the girl-spirit walked around them and shot her hateful words at them.

And most of all—most terrifying and terrible of all—it was his fault that Jingyi looked so pale on the ground, coughing and wheezing, the Ouyang boy in no better state next to him.

The other junior cultivators they had met with on the way, a group from Lanling headed by Jin Ling, had told him to get lost. But it was Lan Jingyi's first night-hunt after his coming-of-age ceremony; he had been so eager to go out after all the fuss and embarrassment of his first fever, eager to prove himself after a few of their clan's elders had let slip that he should be better left within the Cloud Recesses from now on…

Sizhui had not had the heart to refuse him despite the overwhelming competition. Even after they had set foot in the abandoned city, he had thought, naively, that he could handle it all. It had taken the falling of Ouyang Zizhen and his peers, and then of Jingyi himself, for Sizhui to realize how mistaken he had been.

Now Lan Jingyi and three other juniors from different sects were suffocating on the floor of a ruined shed, and the milk-eyed fierce spirit of a girl yelled at them, over and over, to get out.

She screamed again right then. Lan Sizhui jumped as Jin Ling did, and heard the sect heir mutter about his dog Fairy and how quickly he could have dealt with this on his own, but he could not take those hateful words to heart. He knew fear just as well as any of them.

Lan Sizhui crouched on the floor next to Jingyi. "How do you feel?" he asked, frightened.

Lan Jingyi shook his head instead of answering with words. The painful rasps from deep in this throat and lungs seemed to have taken his voice.

Sizhui took his wrist in hand despite the shocked breath Jin Ling took in at the sight—there were better things to think of now than propriety. "Your pulse is steady for now," he told him, hoping to lend some strength to him. "Focus on your breathing, like master Qiren taught us."

"Easy to say," Jingyi rasped out.

Lan Sizhui gave him a shaky smile.

But Jingyi did try, at least. He calmed his pained and nervous breathing and closed his eyes, his fingers crossing as they always did when he struggled through meditation. Next to him, Ouyang Zizhen tried to breathe in tandem.

"What's wrong with him?" Jin Ling asked when Lan Sizhui stood again.

His voice was as muffled as the last three times he had asked the question. "I don't know," Lan Sizhui replied, with enough anger this time to shut him up.

Jin Ling bared his teeth at him and went back to looking at Jingyi in worry.

"Get out of here!" the ghost screamed from outside the shed. "Get out, get out, get out—"

There came a roar of a voice, like the howl of a monster in the distance; she shut up abruptly.

So did all of them. All of a sudden the murmur of two girls' voices in the back halted as they waited out that awful and lung-tearing howl. Lan Sizhui risked a glance in the interstice between two of the planks making up the walls of the shed: he saw only the girl-spirit's back, running away from them.

"What was that?" a Ouyang Zizhen asked fearfully. The group had been entirely silent for over a minute, fear and anticipation locking all of their tongues. "Oh, what was that, are we going to—"

The door of the shed opened violently.

Lan Sizhui did not think at all as he drew his sword and stepped over Jingyi's body to put himself between the intruder and him. He saw as through a trance Jin Ling do the same, Suihua's golden pommel shaking in his grasp, and together they leveled their blades to the man in black robes who now stood in the entrance.

Until Sizhui recognized him.

"Young master Mo?" he asked, bewildered.

His sword lowered. Jin Ling's did so as well a moment later, as he too came to his senses.

It was Mo Xuanyu. He looked more distraught now than Lan Sizhui had last seen him in that inn in Dafan, and the clothes he was wearing were dirtier as well, but he would recognize that sharp-eyed face anywhere. Mo Xuanyu said nothing to them, only turned his back to close the shed-door behind himself and rest his back on it.

He held his bamboo flute in one hand. The other bore a slightly-bleeding gash, as did his sweaty forehead. Sizhui inhaled quickly in relief and smelled faint traces of honey on the air.

"What are you doing here?" Jin Ling asked, enraged again.

"I could ask you the same question," Mo Xuanyu replied. His eyes went over Jin Ling's body, his brow loosening slightly when he found no visible injuries on the boy. "Weren't you with your…"

He paused. He shook his head once, twice, and looked once again at Jin Ling, his mouth open in askance.

Behind Sizhui, Lan Jingyi let out a series of dry and painful coughs.

Mo Xuanyu reacted before even Sizhui could. He suddenly saw the bodies laid onto the dirt floor and stepped to them quickly, pushing Sizhui out of the way as if he did not exist at all. If others were surprised to see him lay a hand on an alpha with so little care, Sizhui was not: he had already been pushed aside by Mo Xuanyu thoughtlessly before in Mo village.

But now was no time to be thinking of such things. Mo Xuanyu crouched beside Lan Jingyi, his hand grabbing Jingyi's to measure his pulse even as he used the other to tug open Jingyi's bloodshot eyes, to squeeze his jaw till his tongue came out.

It was stained purple.

"Foolish child," Lan Sizhui heard Mo Xuanyu whisper through his stupor. Lan Jingyi seemed too surprised and tired to protest for once. The man then ordered Ouyang Zizhen to show his tongue as well, and then the three other boys who had fallen sick upon entering the city. "What are they teaching you in those classes?" he asked loudly as he rose. "Haven't you ever heard of corpse-poisoning?"

"Corpse-poisoning?" a frightened alpha girl exclaimed from the back of the group. Lan Sizhui could see her holding tightly to the arm of the boy next to her, who wore the same dark blue uniform of the Ouyang sect. "Isn't that incurable?"

Sizhui felt his heart drop like a stone.

No, he thought in a panic, looking again at Jingyi on the floor who was now as pale as a sheet, no, no, that's impossible—

"It's not," Mo Xuanyu replied curtly. "Not in the early stages at least."

Ouyang Zizhen let out a curt sob of relief. Next to Lan Sizhui, Jin Ling's hold on Suihua loosened with an audible crack of his knuckles.

"I need a kitchen," Mo Xuanyu said then. Sizhui was too dazed to even feel surprise at those words. "Does anyone still live here?"

"That old harpy does," Jin Ling answered. "She wouldn't open her house for us, so we had to take shelter in her shed—"

Before he could finish, Mo Xuanyu walked to the only other door of the shed and opened it to access the house. He vanished with a flutter of his black robes.

"What!" Jin Ling exclaimed angrily. "He asks all those questions and then leaves us here—"

Sizhui heard none of his words after this, so busy was he staring at Jingyi on the floor and feeling his own heart beat slowly, excruciatingly.

He had almost killed Lan Jingyi.

"Who was this, um," the alpha girl from before said. She seemed to hesitate between calling Mo Xuanyu a man or an omega.

"Mo Xuanyu," came Jingyi's weak reply.

Lan Sizhui crouched beside him again. He held his wrist, though there was no need to check on his pulse now.

"It's just my stupid uncle," he heard Jin Ling's voice say over the hazy buzzing in his ears. "What does he know about corpse-poisoning? He was so weak and mad that Little Uncle threw him out of the Tower ages ago."

"Don't argue while I'm dying, please," said Ouyang Zizhen.

Mo Xuanyu came back into the shed a few minutes later. He had drawn back the sleeves of his robes and washed and bandaged the cut on his hand, though there was no erasing the faint scars Lan Sizhui saw at the inside of his wrists.

"I need help to prepare the remedy," he declared calmly. "Any volunteers?"

Silence answered him. Those who did not know him looked at him in distrust, especially the girl who would not let go of her sect-mate's arm. Lan Sizhui found enough of his bearings to rise and answer, "I'll help."

"Me too," Jin Ling said immediately, walking over the boys on the floor and almost stepping on Ouyang Zizhen's hand.

They followed Mo Xuanyu through the decrepit house. It would be hard to believe anyone lived here even if Sizhui had not glimpsed the old and mean woman who had refused them entry; everywhere he could see was covered in dust and fallen leaves, the pots above the few tables and cabinets showing nothing but dead plants and flowers. The kitchen was in no better shape: the oven was cold as ice when Sizhui touched it, the wood inside wet and rotted.

"Jin Ling," Mo Xuanyu said, "go fetch us some dry wood. Keep your nose and mouth covered."

"I don't want to go outside with that spirit hanging around!" Jin Ling replied, one hand crossed over his chest in defiance.

"Do you want to help me or not?"

The boy hesitated. Lan Sizhui thought of Lan Jingyi so pale and cold on the floor, his breathing dry and hurried, and turned to him. He was not above begging, or offering to go out himself.

But Mo Xuanyu smiled, then, or something near to that. It did not erase the sadness in his eyes which Sizhui had noticed since the very first time they met, but it made him look as if he should be smiling more. As if, once upon a time, he had smiled more.

"There's bushes in the yard outside," he told Jin Ling. "You won't need to go far. Take another of those kids with you if you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Jin Ling said predictably. He turned his back to them and walked out, muttering about Suihua not being meant for cutting wood.

Then it was only Lan Sizhui and Mo Xuanyu inside the tiny kitchen.

"What should I do?" he asked. His voice had never felt so frail before.

Mo Xuanyu did not immediately answer. He turned his back to Sizhui after a brief and fleeting glance his way, opening cupboards and drawers and then a wooden pot full of rice. He plunged his hand into it and brought it to his face, examining the grains under what little daylight filtered there.

It was almost nighttime. Birds would be long gone even if Yi City had such things as living beasts roaming around. When Sizhui took in a breath, tight within his lungs and cold inside his mouth, he smelled nothing but rot and honey.

He knew not why the smell comforted him then.

"Wash this rice," Mo Xuanyu told him after letting the grains fall again. "The water is clean at least."

Sizhui obeyed wordlessly.

Jin Ling came back with wood after a few minutes and hung behind them awkwardly. Mo Xuanyu had aligned a few bowls full of meager spices while he was gone, and now he tended to the fire in the oven and took the washed rice that Sizhui handed him, never letting their hands touch.

"Are you making… congee?" Sizhui asked after a few minutes.

"Congee?" Jin Ling repeated immediately, rushing to see what Mo Xuanyu had been doing.

They both stared at the white-and-red mixture that Mo Xuanyu was cooking over the fire.

"How's congee going to help Lan Jingyi?" Jin Ling said, and anger had made his voice loud and cutting; he looked a second away from grabbing Mo Xuanyu by the front of his robes in despair. "Were you lying when you said you could cure him!?"

"Calm down," Mo Xuanyu snapped.

Sizhui saw him take in a deep breath, eyes closed, before opening them again.

"It's an old remedy," he went on more calmly. His hand never ceased moving the congee overfire; it was odd to see him cook like this, almost as odd as the first time he had walked in on Hanguang-Jun preparing his own meals in that little house up the mountain. "Spices to expel the poison and decongestion the airways."

He did not speak again until a few minutes later, and then only to tell them to distribute the food to those who had been sick.

Jingyi almost choked after the first spoonful.

"Hot!" he cried out, waving a hand over his face, mouth open so that his purple tongue would find fresh air.

The other sick boys were not faring much better, except Ouyang Zizhen who only reddened brightly but kept eating.

"I can't eat this," Jingyi said with tears in his bloodshot eyes.

"You better eat it all, Lan Jingyi," Jin Ling snapped at him. "After all the trouble I went through to fuel the fire for you."

"I'd like to see you eat something to spicy, Jin Ling," Lan Jingyi spat in anger.

Jin Ling took the bowl from Ouyang Zizhen and shoved a spoonful of congee into his mouth.

To his credit, he did not splutter and cry as Jingyi had. His entire face turned red, however, and sweat started shining at his forehead around the red dot marking him as part of the Jin clan. "It's not hot," he said weakly.

It would have been funny in any other circumstance; as it was, Lan Sizhui could only find relief at the sight of Lan Jingyi pushing past the burn to eat more, so that he would not lose face to Jin Ling.

He left them to it and walked back to the kitchen. Mo Xuanyu was there still, leaning against the counter of the stove and watching the leftover congee still simmering there. His head was turned to the empty cabinets he had rummaged through earlier, his eyes unseeing. He looked deep in thought.

"Will he truly be okay?" Lan Sizhui asked him.

Mo Xuanyu did not jump at the sound of his voice. He stared Sizhui's way vaguely, blinking twice to clear his mind. "You're…" His words faltered.

Sizhui told himself not to mind that Mo Xuanyu had forgotten his name again. "Lan Sizhui," he replied. "Will Jingyi truly be all right, young master Mo?"

"He should be," Mo Xuanyu replied.

He seemed to snap out of his own stupor then. He leaned away from the side of the oven, opening it once to twirl the red embers within and spread the heat more evenly. Lan Sizhui shivered; he had not realized how cold he was until then.

"Thank you," he said.

He held back from bowing as the man looked at him again, remembering how he had reacted the last time. Still he brought his hands before him to salute properly, bending the neck no farther than the shoulders.

Bowing this way had always felt odd to him, much odder than bending the back as Jingyi had been taught by Lan Qiren. Here and then, with Mo Xuanyu's cold eyes on him and the smell of death wafting through the twilight air, it felt more than odd. It felt wrong.

"Thank you for saving him," Sizhui went on. "If he had died, I—"

He could not finish his thought. The words hurt enough within the confines of his throat and mind; it seemed unspeakable, unthinkable.

"He's mature now," Mo Xuanyu said all of a sudden.

Sizhui lifted his head in surprise.

Mo Xuanyu was looking directly at him. "I smelled it as soon as I came in," he said. "He doesn't use any medicine to hide himself, does he."

"We celebrated his coming of age only a few days ago," Sizhui replied, confused. "And no, Jingyi does not like those drugs. He says the taste of them is terrible."

"I can't blame him for that."

Mo Xuanyu must use them, Sizhui thought, recalling their meeting in Dafan. Although the honeyscent of him was heavy in Mo village, it had been gone entirely as he walked into that inn and slept in the room next to his and Hanguang-Jun's.

Even now, honey was but a faint and sugary suggestion on the rotten air of the house. Barely enough to be recognizable, had Sizhui not known beforehand what Mo Xuanyu smelled like.

"It's a foolish decision," Mo Xuanyu said, cutting Sizhui's thoughts short, "but I'm less worried about that than I am about those who circle around him."

Lan Sizhui reeled back. "I wouldn't let anyone—"

"I'm talking about you."

Sizhui's mouth shut, his teeth hitting together loudly. There were no words at all, no reply that he could think of, as Mo Xuan approached him. His black eyes were ever-so-hostile.

"I haven't seen that boy anywhere without you within a few feet of him," Mo Xuanyu said lowly. "Without you looking at him, monitoring him."

"I don't—"

"Do not interrupt me, Lan Sizhui."

It was as if a fire had been put out within Sizhui's chest, and as if smoke had replaced his capacity for speech.

You can't protect him, the Jiang sect leader had told him in Dafan.

He had not been able to sleep without hearing those words, not been able to eat or travel anywhere without fearing that Jingyi would be hurt because of his weakness. He heard them now, staring into Mo Xuanyu's eyes, the oppressive air of the city making the man look so much taller.

"You and your clan think yourselves so high, so benevolent for letting that boy roam free, don't you," Mo Xuanyu said. "When a word from any of his elders would suffice to have him be locked up again."

There is no omega house in the Cloud Recesses, Sizhui thought, frightened.

There was, Jiang Wanyin's voice replied.

"You think he belongs to—"

"No," Lan Sizhui cut in.

Mo Xuanyu's eyebrows lifted in surprise; Sizhui pushed past the shame within him, past the fear and confusion which had lingered in his belly since he had come back home after the hunt in Dafan and looked at Lan Qiren, at his sect leader, and not had the courage to ask them for the truth.

If only Hanguang-Jun had been there. Sizhui was never afraid to ask him anything.

"No," he said again, emboldened by the thought of his mentor's teachings. "I would never hurt him. Jingyi doesn't belong to anyone but himself."

Mo Xuanyu scoffed, "Of course you—"

"No! I would never. He's," his words faltered, knocked together and apart, but Sizhui clenched his teeth and said, "he's like a brother to me. I've known him since he was so little, I could hold him with one arm."

He had, so many times, in those days at the Recesses that followed the fuzzy and mud-like images of his past. He had held the baby Lan Jingyi when he could do nothing but cry and ask to be fed or changed. He had crawled with him on the grass next to the koi pond. He had held his hands as he took his first shaking steps.

He had seen Lan Jingyi speak and run and grow, seen him join his side in Lan Qiren's classes and smile as widely as any of them, seen him win his first praising words from the man on the day he first held a bow and arrow. He had been the one to help him train until he was the best archer of Gusulan, second only to their sect leader.

It was Lan Sizhui whom Jingyi had gone to, weeks ago, after feeling the first aches of fever. It was Lan Sizhui who had walked him to Lan Xichen, telling him not to worry, that nothing would change now.

"He's my brother," Sizhui said, blinking back tears. "I would never hurt him."

He looked Mo Xuanyu in the eyes again, ready to yell at him, to argue until his point was made, but Mo Xuanyo was the one now who seemed reduced to silence. The face he was making then was unlike anything Sizhui had seen of him yet.

Then a high-pitched scream came from outside, and the both of them turned as one to look at the open window.

It was the voice of the girl-spirit. Sizhui chased the conversation from his mind and ran back to the shed, Mo Xuanyu hot on his heels.

"She's back!" Jingyi was yelling now.

He already looked better than he did a few minutes ago: his face was red from the spicy congee, but the stuttering of his breathing was gone, and his voice had regained strength. Sizhui ran to his side, almost running into Jin Ling outright, as Mo Xuanyu pushed away one of the Jin sect boys who was taking fearful looks through an opening in the wall.

"She's been following and cursing us," Jin Ling told him, "she hasn't stopped screaming at us to get out."

She did so again in that high and terrifying voice: Get out! Get out of here!

"Are you sure she's a spirit?" Mo Xuanyu asked.

"What else could she be?"

"Why don't you take a look at her, then."

Jin Ling froze under the stares of all nine of them. The shed had quieted so much that any intake of air felt like enough to make the wet wood creak and tremble; the boy grabbed Suihua's pommel again and glared at all of them in turn.

"I'm not scared," he declared.

"Good," Mo Xuanyu replied evenly. "Then come and look."

Jin Ling looked at his feet, than at Lan Jingyi on the floor, and walked toward Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu stepped aside agreeably once the Jin heir was level with him. He gestured to the hole in the wall good-naturedly, his half-smile unfaltered even under the furious glare Jin Ling gave him.

Jin Ling looked through the hole. A second later, he jumped back in fright.

Most of the girls and boys around jumped with him, so taken were they with the mystery of the ghost who had not stopped circling them. Mo Xuanyu stepped away from the wall he was leaning against and asked, "Scared?"

"Not," Jin Ling muttered, obviously lying.

"It's because it's scary that you should look. Come now, tell me what you saw."

"A spirit," Jin Ling spat at him. "A girl. Skinny. Her clothes are all bloody."

"Not bad, but not enough."

Watching Jin Ling be so offended was almost amusing, but Sizhui was too shaken still from his earlier conversation to smile at it. Mo Xuanyu looked at him as he asked, "Anyone else want to try?"

It must be a test, Sizhui thought.

Mo Xuanyu did not look so accusatory now, but his eyes on Sizhui still felt heavy. Judgmental. Asking him to look at the ghost outside must be his way of testing Sizhui's claims.

So Sizhui squeezed Jingyi's shoulder and rose, walking to the man's side. He did not meet his eyes, though he felt them on him, and with them the weight of expectation.

He cares about Jingyi, he told himself.

If Mo Xuanyu cared not about Lan Jingyi, then he would not have confronted Sizhui so. The thought was all it took to make Sizhui bend the neck and look through the coin-sized hole that weather had worn out of the rough wooden wall.

He saw nothing at first expect for the remains of the city: dusty and greyed, wild with grass and moss crawling over the paths and rocks. The night was full now above all of their heads, and moonlight did not shine well through the mist and clouded sky. Lan Sizhui did not see the girl-spirit until she moved against the backdrop of black and grey. His heart seized with fright at the sight of her—skinny and bloody and looking at him with unseeing eyes—but he did not pull back.

He made himself look at her. He saw the blood which Jin Ling had mentioned staining her sand-colored robes, though he could see no wounds on her. She was standing only a few yards away, her milky eyes fixed onto his through the small hole, and Sizhui saw her draw back her shoulders as she opened her mouth to yell.

"Get out!"

She was shaking as she said it, over and over and over again, unrelenting. He thought for the first time since glimpsing her earlier that she could not be older than Jingyi was. He heard the gasps between her screams, the despair with which she screamed them.

The gasps…

"She's alive," Sizhui said, disbelieving.

It could not be; they had seen nothing but corpses within Yi City, nothing but walking cadavers and the half-dead old woman whose house they were occupying, and this girl looked dead. Her face was pale enough to seem bloodness, her eyes devoid of life.

And yet, Mo Xuanyu did not correct him when he pulled away from the wall. He nodded once in assent, his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth absent a smile.

"Alive?" Ouyang Zizhen exclaimed.

Immediately he was on his feet, though he stumbled weakly, and made his way to the hole in the wall. He stuck his entire face against it when he looked, so that his nose was crushed against wood and making his own gasps audible.

"She's breathing!" he said. "Lan Jingyi, come look."

Jingyi was only too eager to follow.

Fear made way for relief, then confusion. The boys and girls in the shed started murmuring again, and their hands loosened around the pommels of their swords. Sizhui saw Jingyi squeeze against Zizhen to look as well, heard him say, "She's pretty."

Jin Ling huffed disgustedly.

"Her eyes are quite wide and lovely," Ouyang Zizhen told Mo Xuanyu. "The shape of her face as well."

"We have a romantic," Mo Xuanyu replied in very dry humor. "Now that we've established that the girl is alive, I suggest we invite her in."

Tension immediately spread through the room again.

"Invite her in?" Jin Ling said, always eager to backtalk. "She's been harassing us for hours."

"She must have something to say."

"Yes, get out, we heard it the first five hundred times!"

But Mo Xuanyu was not listening. Already he was walking past the furious Jin Ling, passing by the alpha girl who had not stopped throwing him distrustful glances, and grabbing the door of the shed with both hands.

The girl was standing behind it when he opened it.

All of them jumped again—she looked so frightening, with her bloodless eyes and face, with her rough robes bloodstained so—but Mo Xuanyu showed no sign of surprise. "Good evening, miss," he told her. "You had something you wanted to tell us?"

The girl only glared at him.

She took three steps into the shed. Almost as one, everyone around Lan Sizhui stepped back in fear. It only seemed to make her more frustrated and angry; her teeth showed between her lips when she clenched them, and her fists balled by her sides and shook violently.

"You have to leave," she said.

Her voice was a lot deeper when she was not screaming, but it remained rough and breezy, as if she were fighting herself for the words to come out. Her lips grew red and wet with blood under Sizhui's very eyes. Droplets fell onto the front of her robes, widening the stain already there, and she said: "You have to go. He'll kill y—"

She stopped and put both hands to her lips, her eyes tightly closed against pain. Red seeped in-between her fingers and rolled slowly down her sleeves.

"A muting curse," Mo Xuanyu murmured. "You have been fighting it all along?"

The girl could not speak anymore. She nodded her head.

"This can't be true," Jingyi said to Mo Xuanyu. He looked shocked and unsettled. "I've never seen anyone bleed out of a muting curse."

"That is because your clan has taught you not to struggle against them, as they go away after a few minutes anyway," Mo Xuanyu answered. "But this is not as simple as the Lan clan's infamous discipline spell."

He turned his back to them entirely. Lan Sizhui could not see the face he was making now, though he imagined it to be less severe.

"What is your name?" Mo Xuanyu asked her.

The girl took her hands away. Her lips looked painted with blood, and some of it had smudged around her cheeks and chin. "A-Qing," she replied weakly.

"A-Qing," Mo Xuanyu repeated. "You've been very brave, haven't you, trying to protect them all this while."

A-Qing's eyes filled with tears.

She did not look like a fierce spirit anymore. Not even with the fresh blood over her clothes or the odd whiteness of her eyes, not even when she shook again as if possessed. She only looked exhausted.

She opened her bleeding mouth again and whispered, "Get out."

"We will," Mo Xuanyu said. He extended a hand toward her.

She took it immediately, mindless of her own state or status, despite the charred wood scent which marked her as alpha.

"I can't undo the curse on you," Mo Xuanyu told her. His hand seemed so very big around hers; his thumb was stroking the back of it in time with her shudders, as if trying to soothe a frightened animal. "But I know a way that we can talk without it hurting you. It might be uncomfortable for you, it might bring back painful memories, but it won't hurt you. I promise."

A-Qing cried and nodded her head, looking a second away from crumbling.

Mo Xuanyu lifted his other hand; with the tip of a glowing finger, he touched her forehead.

-

Wei Wuxian had no idea how long he spent in A-Qing's memories.

It was a painful place to be. Her life had been difficult from the moment she was born with white eyes, and she had struggled through theft and lying and through various streets in various towns. Not once had she known true happiness until the monk Xiao Xingchen had shown up in her life and protected her.

Those years were sweet and bathed in another glow. There was no room for objectivity within the confines of one's mind, but Wei Wuxian thought that even without the distorted perception of happiness which the girl assigned to that period of company and conversation, he would have found it kind. Warm. Xiao Xingchen spoke to her as no one had before, held her as no one had before. His companionship, Wei Wuxian felt, was the one thing she prized above everything else.

His anger and her own were one when he saw what he had to.

Waking up from Empathy was no easy task. Wei Wuxian pulled himself out of it with the sound of Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi's voices, with the feeling of the girl's tears falling onto their linked hands. He made sure to make the transition between memory and present gentle, so as not to shock her. He made sure to squeeze her hand so that she would know he was okay and not feel the need to ask.

The curse on her was quite painful.

"I'm fine," Wei Wuxian said, interrupting the calls for his name that kept echoing between the Lan boys and Jin Ling and—yes, he saw after opening his eyes, the tall boy who wore the Ouyang uniform and had been sick earlier.

He dropped A-Qing's hand. She sat on the floor right where she had stood, silent and empty of strength.

"Get her some of the congee," Wei Wuxian ordered Lan Sizhui. "She hasn't eaten all day."

The alpha boy was quick to react if nothing else, he thought ruefully, seeing him run to the kitchen. There was no time now to reflect on their earlier conversation and how the boy's answer had ached in all-new ways.

Wei Wuxian ignored the questions that the other children immediately threw at him. He let them speak over one another as he thought of his meeting with Xue Yang earlier and what he had seen within A-Qing's mind.

So the fierce corpse that Xue Yang had called earlier, which had managed to cut Wei Wuxian before Wen Ning could reach him, was Song Lan. Wei Wuxian had felt no sympathy for the man when he had shown up in the girl's memory: he was too looming and broad, too familiar in a way, and Wei Wuxian had not yet stooped so low as to mourn an alpha killed by an omega's hand.

Xiao Xingchen's fate was another matter entirely.

A fool, he thought, A-Qing's grief still hot on his breath.

A fool to know his enemy and yet decide to help him; a fool to touch him as he had in those instances A-Qing had spied on them, to make Xue Yang's violent eyes sweeten with obsession.

He could not hear Wen Ning or Song Lan's battle now as much as he tried to listen. The silence in Yi City was like a thick substance, and the two corpses had taken their fight far from the funeral home at the end of the village and deep into the forest behind, on Wei Wuxian's order. Xue Yang had vanished when Wei Wuxian had managed to escape.

It was only luck that had made him stumble upon the group of frightened children. He had only meant to take shelter in that shed himself as he thought of a way to escape.

This would be much easier if he had waited for Lan Wangji's return before following a murderer out of curiosity.

Wei Wuxian smiled, thinking of Lan Wangji. The man must have come back to the inn by now and realized that he was missing.

Sorry, Lan Zhan.

Lan Sizhui had come back and kneeled by the girl near the door. The boy took the time to hand over a bowl of the congee and make sure she could hold it on her own; A-Qing slapped his hands away when he made to help her eat it. Once again, Lan Sizhui showed no sign of outrage or even negative sentiment. He was quite unlike any—

No, Wei Wuxian had better things to think about now than his shovel talk earlier. He did not need to linger on an alpha boy's fright, or on his words which were so familiar.

He's my brother.

He looked at A-Qing eating and felt his lips curl and smile as she reddened from the heat of the meal.

"None of you saw anyone else when you came here, did you?" he asked the group of children behind him.

Or rather, he asked Lan Jingyi; he had no interest in anyone else here except Jin Ling, and looking at Jin Ling brought its own load of pain.

Lan Jingyi shook his head. Much of his strength was back from the meal and the poison leaving him, and he looked as excited as the last time Wei Wuxian had met him. "We saw that old woman in the house," he said. "And, um, that girl, but no one else."

"When did you battle fierce corpses?"

"Right when we arrived in the city, senior Mo," said the Ouyang boy. Wei Wuxian looked at him briefly; he looked younger than Lan Sizhui, but his body was taller and broader already than those of his peers', and he seemed to have a way with words. Wei Wuxian thought that the faint beta-scent of grass in the room belonged to him. "Three of them attacked us at the entrance of the city, but they were slow and in such advanced state of death… We didn't think to be careful of poisoning."

Wei Wuxian nodded. "Corpse-poisoning is rare," he told them, "so I'm not surprised. Think of covering your airways the next time. And if one of you gets sick again, spicy food should clear the poison out in the first few hours."

There came a murmur of thanks, a few eager-to-learn looks, over the group. Even the alpha girl who kept clinging to her friend gave him something like a smile. Wei Wuxian ignored her.

"How do you know all this?" Jin Ling asked him, suspicious.

"I do read books," Wei Wuxian replied.

The boy only frowned harder. The red dot on his forehead moved with it. "You were always hanging to Little Uncle's shadow like a desperate—"

The roof opened above them.

Or rather, the roof of the shed was torn off of its walls with inhuman strength. Wei Wuxian had only the presence of mind to grab Jin Ling and push him out of the way of falling wood beams, and to check that Lan Sizhui and A-Qing on his other side were not injured either. He found the boy intact, although surprised, but then it was A-Qing he saw grab at the door of the shed and run outside in fear, her weeping eyes stuck to the figure which now stood by Wei Wuxian's side.

Song Lan's corpse had jumped in through the torn-open roof. He landed by Wei Wuxian's side without any sound, black-veined and empty-eyed, his black sword in one hand and the other wrapped around Wei Wuxian's shoulder. His hold was painless but inescapable, and Wei Wuxian could do nothing as his back was pushed to the dead man's front and the sword placed against his throat.

"There you are," came Xue Yang's near-agreeable voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

He was the one who jumped into the shed next. The oversweet scent of him was still so cloying, almost like taste on Wei Wuxian's tongue. It did not matter that Lan Jingyi had come to maturity; the fresh berryscent that clung to him was gone in a second, erased by the heavy smell of flowers.

Wei Wuxian wondered if he had smelled so strongly too when he was the one ravaged by guilt.

Song Lan's hands tightened on him. The front of his body pushed against Wei Wuxian's back as he marched him to Xue Yang.

It did not matter that he was long dead, that he smelled of nothing except decay—Wei Wuxian had seen and heard him through A-Qing's memories, had smelled the firesmoke on him as he did on the girl, and it seemed to him that those were different hands, that this was a different body, pushing him onto the grass until he tasted dirt in his mouth.

He did not realize that his movements had stopped, that his eyes had closed, until his nose once again stung from the smell of guihua flowers. Xue Yang was standing before him and putting the white sword to his neck, pushing Song Lan's hands away so he could hold Wei Wuxian in place instead.

"I'll take it from here," he told the corpse in vicious hatred. "You go take care of the Ghost General now, mongrel."

Song Lan had no consciousness, no will to reply with. He simply obeyed his master's orders and left. Although a sword held by Xue Yang was just as much of a threat against Mo Xuanyu's frail neck, the hand on Wei Wuxian's shoulder was almost bracing.

"What did you to with Wen Ning?" Wei Wuxian asked.

It was better than to focus on why, exactly, the touch of a murderer felt more comforting than that of a dead man's.

"Wen Ning?" Jin Ling's voice echoed behind them.

He had forgotten all about the group inside the shed.

"Oh, we have quite the public here," Xue Yang said, turning Wei Wuxian around with him to face the nine children looking at them with wide eyes. "And from so many sects, too! I haven't seen cultivators from Gusu in many years."

"I know you," Jin Ling said then, pointing at him with a finger. "You're that Xue Yang that Little Uncle locked up! I thought you were dead."

Xue Yang bowed deeply, forcing Wei Wuxian down with him. Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes.

"A pleasure to see you again, young master Jin Ling," Xue Yang said. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "You've grown a lot these past few years. Does dear Madam Jin still wet her bed at night in fear of me?"

Jin Ling turned as red as he did when he ate the congee; he opened his mouth to reply, but Wei Wuxian spoke over him.

"Jin Ling, you take them outside now," he said.

"But—"

"Young master Mo," Lan Sizhui said, his bright eyes wide open with concern. "What about you?"

"Yes, what about you, Mo Xuanyu," Xue Yang echoed mockingly. His hand patted Wei Wuxian's shoulder in mimicry of friendliness. "Are all these children with you? I thought you hated children."

Wei Wuxian ignored him in spite of the bright, bright worry which those words lit in him.

"Lan Sizhui," he called through clenched teeth.

The boy's body straightened, attentive. Wei Wuxian shoved away his dislike in order to ask what he must.

"You take those kids outside. Cover your mouths and noses and get out of this city."

"But—"

"Do as I say. Don't make me regret counting on you."

Those words did the trick, as Wei Wuxian thought they might. Lan Sizhui nodded in determination and grabbed onto Lan Jingyi's arm, guiding the seven other youths outside the shed with him. Many threw glances at Xue Yang in fear, some even in disgust. Xue Yang simply watched them go, humming a little song, his fingers dug deeply into Wei Wuxian's shoulder.

At least the white sword had not been sharpened in a while. Its blunt edge rested over Wei Wuxian's neck and risked nothing more than to bruise him unless Xue Yang chose to swing it with the strength of his back.

He had another sword on him, however: a short blade hung from his hip, the pommel of which sang with spiritual energy as it knocked into Wei Wuxian's back.

"This is Xiao Xingchen's sword," he told Xue Yang once all the children were gone.

Lan Sizhui had been the last to disappear from the frame of the door in spite of Wei Wuxian's orders. Wei Wuxian could still feel the hopelessness of his gaze before the door had closed.

"Yes," Xue Yang said amiably. "I find it rather agreeable to me."

"I couldn't see that well through the girl's memory. Did you kill him with it or with your own?"

Xue Yang was silent, now.

"There's nothing I can do for you, Xue Yang," Wei Wuxian said softly. "Xiao Xingchen died with no regrets or hopes. His soul is long gone to where you can't reach him."

"There are ways," Xue Yang replied.

"None that he would approve of or find happiness with. If you tried to bring him back the way that Mo Xuanyu brought me back, that man would simply kill himself again. You know this."

If the monk Xiao Xingchen, Baoshan Sanren's disciple, A-Qing's unfailing protector, was forced against his will to occupy the body of another… He was not like Wei Wuxian, for whom selfishness may as well be a second layer of skin. He was not like Xue Yang.

Xiao Xingchen had never had to feel that his life was half-lived. He had never been jailed, never been locked up as Xue Yang must have before the Jin sect leader abolished omega houses.

"Did you spend a long time in there?" Wei Wuxian asked.

He knew his voice was sorrowful; he knew, as well, that Xue Yang would understand his meaning.

The hand on Wei Wuxian's shoulder tightened until he felt the press of Xue Yang's blunt nails. The blade at his throat dug a little deeper into his skin. "Eighteen years," Xue Yang replied.

Then he was a man, already, when the great sects elected to set him free. His whole childhood gone without feeling the sun on his skin, his teenage years behind him without the freedom to wade into water, a sibling's hand in his.

"I always wondered," Xue Yang said.

His words faltered. Wei Wuxian waited him out.

"We are not that far from Yiling. I know that you went far and wide, I know that you went all the way to Qishan to open the houses there. Why…"

It seemed it was Jiang Cheng's voice he was hearing from far back in the past: You can't free them all, Wei Wuxian.

"I knew your name even when I did not know anything," Xue Yang said, his voice only a thin edge of anger. "I worshipped you. When I was living in Golden Carp Tower, when Jin Guangyao allowed me access to your writings and inventions, I thought I understood you. But Chang Cian—" his grip became painful, even the stub of his pinky finger bruising, "—had not the strength to stop the Yiling Patriarch even with his whole house behind him. So why did you never come for us?"

"I stopped after Jin Guangshan threatened me," Wei Wuxian replied.

"You spat in his face."

"I did." That memory was as fond to him now as it had been then, seeing Jin Guangshan's eyes widen with fury and his red cheeks catch light under a layer of saliva. "But the Burial Mounds already counted so many of us. I couldn't risk their safety, not with the Jin clan and all its associates laying siege."

Xue Yang took in his words, breathing hard against the side of Wei Wuxian's neck. The smell of him was near nauseating, the way that people's sometimes were in that village in the mountains, when grief awoke in them and made them unable to sleep.

Those days, Wen Qing had worked herself to the bone, preparing medicine until her own hands bled. Still she would lay them on Wei Wuxian's arm when the stillness struck him; still she would assist him into the long hours of night, until he had a voice again to tell her to rest.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. In the end, he had been unable to protect them as well.

He let himself be led out of the house by Xue Yang. Not even the cool night air could rid Yi City of its odor of death, and this must be the reason he was so maudlin, he thought. This must be why thoughts of that village, of Wen Qing, flew around in his mind with every step he took. He did not miss anyone from his former life in the way he missed her.

"You'll bring him back," Xue Yang was muttering again, his brief bout of sanity gone just like dust on the wind. "You'll bring him back."

When they reached the front steps of the funeral home, he dropped Wei Wuxian with a cry.

Wei Wuxian was quick to make use of his sudden freedom and step away from Xue Yang. He found him bowed and holding his head, blood seeping between his fingers, fragments of what must have been a clay pot laid on the ground around him.

"A-Qing," Xue Yang moaned, and never before had he said a name with such hatred.

The girl A-Qing stood above the little promontory that the home was built on. She had another clay pot in hand, which she threw at Xue Yang too. Her bloody face ran with tears.

Wei Wuxian had seen the moment Xue Yang had cursed her to be silent or suffer; he had seen through her the memories of roaming around the empty streets of Yi City, yelling at cultivators and common folk to get out, get out, get out.

There is a bad man here. He will kill you. Get out, run for your life.

"Why do you get in my way?" Xue Yang roared at her. His head still bled from the first hit, but he had managed to avoid the second pot easily. "Do you wish to join him so badly, girl? I can cut your tongue if you want, cut your eyes so you're blind for real, you little liar."

A-Qing's bloody mouth opened. "You're the liar," she croaked at him, defying the spell in spite of just how much it hurt.

Xue Yang was not holding Xiao Xingchen's sword when he ran to her, but his own; and the edge of that blade was not blunted by neglect at all.

It would not have mattered anyway. No blade, blunted or not, could measure up to Bichen.

Lan Wangji dropped in from the sky as the girl cowered and fell. He was as silent as shadow and as bright as sunlight, catching the edge of Xue Yang's rust-colored blade with his own, an expanse of white against the black and grey of the city. Wei Wuxian breathed in for the first time in hours, sandalwood caught in his mouth and lungs and soothing the ache in his heart.

Xue Yang must have been a great swordsman, once. Even with grief having thinned his body and made his hands shake, he held his own against Lan Wangji in a way Wei Wuxian had seldom seen. Not during his stay in the Cloud Recesses, not during the Sunshot Campaign when he fought by the man's side.

But Xue Yang faltered. His steps shook. His shoulder bent under one more parry, and Lan Wangji disarmed him completely by cutting off his whole hand.

He had already turned his back to his opponent by the time Xue Yang fell to the ground and cried in pain, holding the stump of his wrist with his right hand and shaking through his whole body. Wei Wuxian hurried up the steps of the funeral home and hurried to A-Qing's side, who had fallen unconscious.

"Don't kill him," he told Lan Wangji, who was looking at him.

A-Qing had hit her head when she fell. Wei Wuxian laid her on her side to check the swollen gash through her dirty hair, but although it bled liberally, in that way head wounds tended to, he felt nothing more than a bump under his fingers. She looked sickly, but he had not felt a fever on her during Empathy. He felt none now as he briefly touched her forehead again.

Another silhouette emerged from behind the funeral home; Wen Ning was back, looking none the worse for wear, dragging behind himself the dead body of Song Lan. It was not moving anymore.

Wei Wuxian rose to his feet again.

Xue Yang had stopped whimpering, though his face was bloodless, his gaze heavy and confused with the pain. Wei Wuxian saw Lan Wangji try and kneel by him to bandage his wound; he saw the fear which lit up Xue Yang's face and made him push the alpha away bodily.

That fear was familiar. That fear was something Wei Wuxian could feel in his own throat, in his own heart.

"I'll do it, Lan Zhan," he said.

Lan Wangji looked at him in silence before offering him the cloth he was holding.

Xue Yang did not push Wei Wuxian away. He allowed him to sit on the ground and make a garrote out of the belt he was wearing, so as to stopper the bleeding. He let Wei Wuxian wind the cloth around his cut-off wrist and tie it up tightly with nothing more than a hitch in his breaths. The white cloth pinkened immediately.

"The Seal," Wei Wuxian murmured once he was certain that Xue Yang would not die of blood loss.

Xue Yang laughed weakly. "I fixed it for you," he said. "Everything… I fixed it for you, Wei Wuxian. For when you would come back."

"I know," Wei Wuxian said.

Xue Yang's right hand grabbed Wei Wuxian's sleeve and left blood stains on the fabric. They shone red-on-black in the faint light of the moon. "So you have to help me," Xue Yang murmured, fevered and lost. "I fixed it for you, so you have to help me, too."

"I can't bring Xiao Xingchen back."

Wei Wuxian did not think Xue Yang had noticed the tears running down his own face. "Take it," he was saying, grabbing from the pouch at his waist the two halves of the Stygian Tiger Seal. He pushed them into Wei Wuxian's hand, shaking, closing Wei Wuxian's own fingers around them so that he may be sure that he was holding them. "Take it, take it, I fixed it, so please, help m—"

An arrow stabbed into the ground right where their hands were linked; only Lan Wangji's speed when he pulled the both of them apart prevented either of them from being hurt.

In his surprise, Wei Wuxian dropped one half of the Seal.

Another shadow had emerged on the steps up the funeral home. A silhouette in black devoid of any scent, wearing the same ghost mask that had appeared before them in Qinghe's funeral site. They were quick on their feet, quick to avoid Bichen's glare and throw themselves to the ground in order to pick up the half-Seal.

Wei Wuxian had no time at all to stop them. The silhouette made as if to lunge at him next and steal the other half from his hand; Lan Wangji was quicker this time, stepping in-between them with his sword held high, his face a mask of its own, showing nothing but steel.

The masked person burned a talisman and vanished.

Silence reigned over them for another second; then Xue Yang screamed and howled, his lone hand digging into soil as he shook over the ground.

"No!" he yelled. It was the same despair he had used as he spoke to A-Qing, the same hopelessness in his voice multiplied thousandfold. "Come back, give it back—"

"Xue Yang," Wei Wuxian said.

It was his robes that Xue Yang was gripping now, forcing him to the ground again so that their eyes could meet, and Wei Wuxian saw nothing in his other than terror. "I'll make you another one," he begged, "even if it takes me another five years. I'll make you another one, I'll make a hundred, so you have to—"

"Xue Yang!"

The sound of his name finally seemed to get through him. He loosened his hold on Wei Wuxian's robes and let his dirty hand fall to the cold dirt path.

"It doesn't matter if I have the Stygian Tiger Seal," Wei Wuxian said. "Xiao Xingchen is gone. There is nothing you, or I, can do to bring him back to life."

"But you could," Xue Yang cried. "You're the only one who could."

If Wei Wuxian had met Xue Yang during those years of his youth, before the Lotus Pier had burned, perhaps he would have tried. Perhaps he would have researched a way, or given to Xue Yang's demand and made some poor soul call Xiao Xingchen back from the dead to condemn him to living.

He was not that child anymore, however. He knew better now than to attempt the impossible.

Wei Wuxian put a hand over Xue Yang's shoulder. The man looked at him with his mouth open, with tear tracks leaving pale lines into the dirt greying his face. He looked like a child; he looked like Wen Yueying did when Wei Wuxian lived with her, and she had exhausted herself crying for sweets that Linfeng refused her.

"What do I do?" Xue Yang asked him.

Wei Wuxian had no doubt, then, that he would obey anything.

He looked at A-Qing lying prone a few feet from them. Lan Wangji was by her side and checking on her, making sure, perhaps, that she had not been hurt when the masked man attacked them. She looked unharmed but from the blood on her lips and the lump at the back of her head.

"You move on," Wei Wuxian said.

"Never," Xue Yang replied instantly. And then again, as if to make sure the whole world would hear him: "Never."

Wei Wuxian turned his eyes away. "Then simmer in misery until the day you die. You won't find what you're looking for even if you gain immortality."

Xue Yang's hand once more grabbed his sleeve. "Do not pity me," he ordered. "Not you."

"You are pitiful. It's only natural."

"I did not pity you when I learned about that child, Wei Wuxian."

The blood in Wei Wuxian's veins turned to ice.

There was a new light in Xue Yang's eye, a new edge of cruelty. But he seemed satisfied to have Wei Wuxian look at him again, and he did not utter another word.

"Undo the curse on A-Qing," Wei Wuxian said when he found his voice again. It felt to him as though an hour had passed in that heavy and cold silence. "She's been hurt enough."

"How that girl manages to charm every man she meets…"

"Just do it, Xue Yang."

Xue Yang's face was still slack with despair, still marked and bruised by the strength of his grief. Still, he lifted his only hand, shaking, and split the air twice with his fingers until the snapping sound of cursebreak echoed.

Behind them, A-Qing let out a sigh. She was still asleep, Lan Wangji kneeling next to her.

"You'll be the one to curse her when she talks your ears off," Xue Yang muttered with no heat.

He did not move from his spot on the ground when Wei Wuxian stood up. The weight of the half-Seal in his hand was familiar and painful; Wei Wuxian put it into the belt looped around his waist and tried to ignore the slithering and murmuring of a thousand souls.

"You wanted to know what to do with your life," he said.

Xue Yang looked up at him, empty-eyed.

"You can't have Xiao Xingchen back," Wei Wuxian told him. Even through that much stupor and weakness, Xue Yang's face found the strength to tense with misery at the sound of the man's name. "But there are things he left behind. Things you could take care of to honor his memory."

"Nothing," Xue Yang replied, "is worth as much as he is."

"He did not think that way. Not about you, and not about her."

Wei Wuxian had never met Xiao Xingchen who was his sect-uncle. He had never met the monk Xiao Xingchen who roamed the lands with Song Lan in charity. He had only glimpsed him through the memories of a teenage girl, leaving candy on her bedsheets to wake up to, kissing Xue Yang by a dying fire as she spied in envy. He knew, however, that Xiao Xingchen had not once thought himself more important than the little girl in his care or the bitter enemy he picked up from the side of a road and fell in love with.

"You look after her," Wei Wuxian told the shattered man at his feet whose fate had been fabricated by his own hands. "You do not hurt her again. You make sure she survives and finds happiness, and perhaps Xiao Xingchen will forgive you in another life."

For a second, Xue Yang said nothing. Then he chuckled and laughed, and his laughter sounded like sobs.

You're one to talk, Wei Wuxian, he must be thinking. This is some order, coming from you.

But his laughing and crying were too loud for words, and so Wei Wuxian had only the voices in his head to tell him to feel shame.

Silence settled over the dead city. No wind rose to wash the air of decay, and no pine creaked from the forest near them where Wen Ning had fought. He was still standing there at their periphery, Song Lan's corpse by his feet, his unblinking eyes fixed onto his master. It did not look as though he had fully awoken yet from whatever spell had undone Wei Wuxian's work.

Only Lan Wangji movied within all that silence; only Lan Wangji stood by Wei Wuxian's side and touched his bleeding hand.

-

Wen Ning buried Song Lan in the ill-tended garden behind the funeral home. He buried Xiao Xingchen, too, once Xue Yang showed no sign of stopping him from taking his body. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stayed until A-Qing woke up, long enough to tell her that the curse had been lifted from her and to show her where her mentor was laid to rest. She did not cry when she bowed above his freshly-dug grave. She left for a few minutes and then came back with wild flowers in hand; she spread them over the wet dirt so that life would grow there, and she fled from them all with one last glare Xue Yang's way.

Xue Yang did not move until she had gone away. He rose when her footsteps stopped echoing and vanished into the dark trees that bordered the garden, holding his hurt wrist to his chest, Xieo Xingchen's white sword clutched into his one remaining hand.

"How did you find us?" Wei Wuxian asked Lan Wangji once they had gone back to the inn.

The rest of the night felt like a dream. The tomb where the spirit of the saber rested, telling them the name of the corpse which they had carried all this way. Wei Wuxian could hardly even think of it.

How odd, to think that only hours ago he had eaten dinner and been talked at by a rueful alpha woman. To think that he had shared wine with Xue Yang and not known, or felt, all that he did now.

Shame was dug into him like a knife. It pulled at his belly like the aches of fever, like Lan Wangji's overwhelming presence had in the Xuanwu cave, when he had kneeled on his injured leg and faced a wall for days.

Wei Wuxian was seated at the small tea table in the room Lan Wangji had bought for the night. Lan Wangji himself had made tea and set it before him. He answered as he took place on the table's other side: "I met Sizhui at the entrance of Yi City. He told me what happened."

"Had you been looking for me for a long time already?"

Lan Wangji did not answer, but Wei Wuxian saw the way that his mouth tensed, the way that his tired eyes moved.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For worrying you."

"You are free to go as you wish."

Wei Wuxian laughed dryly. He took his cup of tea in hand, too exhausted to even fetch the scent-masking paste from the pouch at his waist, thou he should. Only hours ago, he had called Lan Jingyi foolish for not using it.

It seemed his hypocrisy knew no boundaries tonight.

"Lan Sizhui is quite the young cultivator," he muttered, looking at the green tea in the white cup, at the dregs of dried leaves in the bottom which floated every way he moved. "Smart and responsible. I'm sure you must approve of him greatly."

He could not hide the bitterness in his voice. Lan Wangji said nothing.

No. He would not think of Lan Sizhui's declaration, not now. "Although, I find I enjoy Lan Jingyi's company more," Wei Wuxian went on.

"He is like you."

"Obviously," Wei Wuxian chuckled.

But Lan Wangji shook his head. "No," he said, oddly serious. "He is like you in spirit."

Bright and funny Lan Jingyi, with his archer's calluses, with his sweet berryscent. Lan Jingyi who could plaster his body to his beta friend's to peer at ghosts through a hole in the wall, who could walk without shame after his maturity had come, who could touch Lan Sizhui and be touched by him with no fear.

If Lan Wangji thought Wei Wuxian was ever as bright as this boy, then he held him in too much esteem. Then he was blinded and foolish and needed to be told the truth.

"There was," Wei Wuxian started.

His throat locked up. Words caged within his mouth felt like sharp little blades, and Wei Wuxian thought he would taste blood soon, feel his tongue cut and his lips bleed like A-Qing's had under the muting curse.

"There was a child," he forced out. The cup shook within his hold, spilling tea over the tabletop, and were it not for Lan Wangji's fingers taking hold of his wrist, Wei Wuxian would have dropped it.

"There was a child in Yiling."

Lan Wangji's hand wrapped around his and held it tightly.

Wei Wuxian wept has he had not even when Jiang Yanli held him and cried with him. It felt like waves spilling overshore, like a river flooded with rain and landslides. Each hiccuping breath he forced in was followed by more tears, wetting his face, wetting his clothes. He rubbed the sleeve of his free hand so many times over his eyes that it grew drenched, that it left salt over his lips when he did it again. He shook with the strength of his sobs. His hand became clammy within Lan Wangji's grasp, slippery. Lan Wangji never let go.

And shame, shame swelled through him like a saturated lake, rendering his blood to water, to tears. Shame and anger such that he had not felt since Wen Qing had torn the golden core out of him.

"Don't look at me, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian begged in-between two heaving sobs.

In the Xuanwu's cave, on the mountain path where Jiang Cheng had stabbed him, amidst the golden rocks where Jin Zixuan had died, Wei Wuxian's name on his lips… Wei Wuxian could think of nothing worse than to be seen. Than to be watched and known.

"I won't," Lan Wangji replied.

His fingers stroked Wei Wuxian's, wetted themselves with the tea spilled over them. They felt to Wei Wuxian like the only source of warmth in the world.

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#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #fic: and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow #featured