#please talk to the elders to learn about something like that otherwise you have people claiming this stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

damiansgoodgirll · 3 months

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hi, can you please make a story where reader is young like 19 or 20 and everyone loves her and she’s a pretty close friend with basically everyone in the wwe and one day she has a match with like Nia or someone else and she gets injured so bad that everyone around her is worried sick.? maybe she has a closer feeling with the judgement day or Jey but like if you can mention more wrestlers it would be amazing. Thank you so much. I love your writing

i love this type of requests cause it makes me travel back in time when i was 13 and i used to play wrestling with my best friend (don’t do this at home) and i remember everyone loving me…anyway

sorry for making nia the bad one!

the judgment day x reader (platonic) / jey uso x reader (platonic)

home is where you belong

you never thought you would find it but you did. the place where you felt safe and loved, the place that you called home.

you’ve been wrestling since you were fifteen and once you got eighteen wwe signed you in. two years later now you were living your dream;

travelling from city to city, having sleepovers with your wrestling friends, gossiping about what people you shipped together, talking nonsense with seth rollins and having becky teasing him, watching and learning new techniques from jey uso, training with the judgment day.

everything was a dream for you.

the fans loved you. even if they weren’t fans about your character, they still liked your persona and your positive energy. you had no enemies, you pretended of course, but you had no enemies at all.

many elders took you under their protective wing and you couldn’t be more grateful.

you we are currently training with rhea as you had a big match against nia and you wanted to be ready. you both already knew that the judgement they were gonna help you win this match because, according to the script they had to ruin this moment for you and for nia, but you didn’t care because you knew how fun it was going to be.

so you were ready to kick her ass.

nia, otherwise, wasn’t as happy as you thought. the idea of losing against some teenager like you made her blood boil. she was more experienced than you so why would you had to win? plus, by getting helped by the judgment day?

she didn’t like the idea but she didn’t tell you.

she had something else in mind.

so you were getting ready, your make up flawless, your hair perfectly posing over your shoulders and a smile that could make happy anyone who met you.

you were so ready.

you heard the “boos” when nia entered the ring and you heard everyone cheering for you when you entered. that’s how it was supposed to be so why did she have an envious look in her eyes?

you pretended it was nothing and you started the match as it was supposed to go.

ten minutes later, the judgment day music echoing through the arena, just like the script said.

rhea distracting nia.

following exactly what the script said.

so what did go wrong?

nia attacked rhea. it wasn’t in the script but rhea knew how to handle situations like that.

you could tell by damian’s look that this wasn’t supposed to happen but you took it as an opportunity to distract nia and make your final move, move that made you win that match.

earlier on the schedule but still, you had your win.

“someone beat your ass…” rhea screamed into the microphone, unleashing mixed reactions through the crowd. everyone cheering for you because of your win, not everyone was happy with the way you won but still, you better than nia.

that set her off.

she didn’t like the idea of a teenager beating her but she hated even more the way the crowd laughed at her face, making her seem weak, not strong enough.

the judgment day were leaving the arena, just like the script told them to do after your victory, so what didn’t go as planned?

you were still in the ring, fans clapping for you, the referee still held your hand high and as you were about the leave, nia hit you behind your back.

this wasn’t prepared.

you fell to your knees and before you could do something she dragged you through your hair into the middle of the ring.

“nia?” you said almost too terrified.

the referee tried to get into the two of you but nia pushed her away, hurting her.

“who do you think you are?” she said hoovering you with her body.

“nia what?” you weren’t understanding. why was she doing that? she was your friend, she wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“don’t act so dumb…” she whispered before attacking you.

for real this time.

nothing prepared.

she was really hurting you. your face first, then your stomach, she kept hurting you, punching you over and over until you couldn’t feel your body anymore.

your head and nose were bleeding.

referees weren’t able to stop her either.

rhea and damian were the first one to intervene when they saw that the referee couldn’t stop her.

rhea attacking her, the referees, trying to get between the two of them, so damian so that as an opportunity to shield you with his body. he could handle nia attacking him.

“damian?” you almost cried.

“hey…shh it’s okay, i got you” he said, slowly moving your hair out of your face and it was in that moment that he saw your bleeding face.

“dam…it hurts” you said clenching your stomach. he felt his heart breaking. the way you were clenching your chest, the way your hands trembled a little, your bleeding face and your eyes full of tears.

he was mad. furious.

“i know…ssshhh…we will take care of you i promise” he whispered.

the crowd was cheering, assuming everything was scripted, but there was an uncomfortable silence going behind the scenes.

everyone watching what was happening in horror.

becky had tears in her eyes and seth was trying to keep her and himself calm because he was mad. cody was speechless. jey ran out of his locker room just to be stopped by the security. dom and finn paralysed in their steps as they were watching everything happening right before their eyes.

that’s what it went wrong.

thankfully, rhea and referees were able to drag nia away from the ring. she knew she went too far but her pride was something she wasn’t willing to give up.

damian was still in the ring with you as medical staff came and assisted you.

you already fell unconscious when damian lifted you up in his arms and dragged you down onto the stretcher waiting for you backstage.

you were rushed to the hospital and honestly no one felt like continuing the show but they had to. jey was next but all he wanted to do was rush to the hospital and stay by your side.

you didn’t even realised that when you woke up you weren’t in some hotel room but you were in a hospital bed. your head still pounding when you remembered what happened.

the doctor told you that you had a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder,a broken wrist, a sprained ankle and a heavy concussion. not to count all the bruising and red spots forming all over your body.

then what you didn’t want to hear : no wrestling for at least four months.

your body needed to rest and heal first.

you were trying to hold in all the tears but eventually let them out when the doctor left your room. you were supposed to have your first main event at wrestlemania and now that dream was gone.

while still crying a soft knock echoed through the room.

damian first, then rhea with the rest of the judgment day.

“hey…” she whispered but her heart broke when she saw the tears in your eyes “why are you crying pretty girl?” she asked sitting on the chair next to your bed, followed by the boys who sat on the small couch right beside the window.

“bye bye wrestlemania…” you said with a broken voice.

everyone knew how much you’ve been waiting and wanting that moment.

“i’m so sorry y/n…” she said softly.

“its just it’s not fair…” you whispered “why did she do that? i thought she was my friend…i would have never done that to her rhea…never”

“i know love…because you know your value, you’re kind and sweet and loving and unfortunately you’ve met someone who thought about her ego and her ego only…” she said smiling sadly at you.

“what matters now is that you rest and take your time to heal” damian joined the conversation “you scared everyone back there…” he said making you smile a little.

“i didn’t mean to…”

“we know…or you could tell them that yourself” finn joked.

“what?” you whispered.

“everyone’s here…jey almost punched the doctor when they wouldn’t let him see you” dom laughed “becky is here with seth, cody and shayna are here too…girl you even scared gunther”

“i don’t believe it…” you laughed.

“we can make you believe that” jey said entering the room with a beautiful bouquet of red roses. everyone followed him too.

you were relieved in seeing so many people caring for you in a way not even your friends cared about. you felt loved and appreciated.

you’ve spent the next hour talking nonsense with them all and you almost forgot about the wrestling problem thing.

almost.

when everyone left for your check up with the doctor, the only one who stayed was jey.

he was the only one who noticed the shift in your mood and he knew what was like staying away from what you love do the most, so if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was willing to do that, if you needed a friendly advice, he was willing to do that too.

“care to tell me what’s on your mind sweetheart?” he asked when the doctor left.

“i’m going to miss all of these…four months of not seeing you all days, no wrestling, no wrestlemania and probably no summerslam too…it’s just, i feel useless and empty not doing what i love jey” you confessed.

“you’re not useless at all, and it’s normal to feel nostalgic right now but it’ll pass and i promise you that you’ll be on your feet for when summerslam comes! i promise you” he said sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder - the healthy one - “i wish i could have done something to stop her but i was the useless one…i hated seeing you in so much pain…she lost her mind and finally she lost her job too”

“what?” you whispered.

“yup! got fired…you know you could sue her right?” jey asked.

“i would never do that…”

“i know…you’re too kind for that…what she did was wrong and completely unacceptable but i’m glad you’re here…” he said softly kissing your head.

“ill be here for a long long time…this is my home after all” you smiled, making jey laugh too.

and it was in that moment that you truly realised how important those weird people were for you, and how important you were for them.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months

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Some hcs that reader (with a gholdengo and drifblim) who takes care of pecharunt after the events of mochi mayhem.. pecharunt tries to get the reader to eat one of its mochi bc it doesn't think reader is their friend unless reader eats the mochi but reader always tells it "im your friend buddy i promise u" but will bonk its head if it tries to get other people to eat the mochi

((I am a strong pecharunt appologist))

After Gholdengo and Drifblim helped you defeat Pecharunt back in Kitakami....the next step was to become its friend and show it all the love that it's been denied for so long.

According to one of the elders, there was more to the story about the Loyal Three and Ogerpon and why they sought after her masks all those years ago, but most of it was omitted from books.

Apparently Pecharunt was only obeying the wishes of its owners that it fed mochi to, and in trying to fulfill their request, the mission winded up turning into something quite tragic for everyone involved.

Hearing that tale made you feel a bit more sympathetic when it came time to properly introduce the mythical to your two aces.

Immediately it thinks it's gonna get another beat down and flings mochi at them in self-defense....but your Gholdengo just blocks them with their skateboard while one bounces harmlessly off of Drifblim's body.

"Stop that, Pech...there's no battle going on here. We're not gonna hurt you. You're safe."

Pecharunt spins around to face you, seeing that you're currently preparing a sandwich on the picnic table.

Before you could finish putting the bread on top (unless you feel like leaving it off), it gently sets down one or two mochi atop the other ingredients, looking at you expectantly.

Only to throw a fit when you instead calmly remove them.

"I'm sorry. I just have to make this sandwich a specific way...but a mochi sandwich does sound tasty.."

"...cha..cha..." It retreats into its shell, looking gravely upset.

You know it didn't mean any harm by it...but one of your partners thought otherwise.

"Dengo!"

"Blimmm.."

You see Drifblim trying to discourage Gholdengo from throwing coins at the poor poison type, but knowing your ghost/steel type..they're petty and think Pecharunt is bad news all around.

They're pretty much saying "well let's see how they like having stuff thrown at them!"

Fortunately, you manage to calm everyone down, gently shooing your 'mons into playing elsewhere before looking for Pecharunt...who was hiding underneath the table, shaking.

You simply sit on the ground and talk to it that way, explaining that you learned about its past and understood why it acts the way it does.

"You don't have to give me mochi in order to get me to like you. We're already friends."

"Run..?"

"Listen, you've spent your whole life trying to please others. You feel like you owe them something, and you're afraid that if you stop giving, they won't love you anymore. But you don't have to worry about that here. My friendship doesn't come with a price, Pecharunt." You smile and hold out your arms. "Except maybe...a hug? And a promise to stop possessing my human friends?"

"........."

"In turn, I'll protect you and make sure you never feel lonely again. Does that sound like a deal?"

Given its hesitance to even look you in the eye, you're unsure if Pecharunt was ready to be this open with you so soon, or if it was afraid you were just lying...

Yet it was quickly moved to tears as it floats into your arms, allowing you to embrace it closely.

You're glad you two could finally come to an understanding.

This mythical 'mon wasn't evil at heart..just misguided in its drive for love and affection.

Now it didn't have to worry about losing yours anymore.

#AUGH i love pecharunt even more now 💔#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #mochi mayhem x reader #pecharunt #gholdengo #drifblim #headcanons

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revoevokukil · 1 year

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there is a lot of talk about the relationship ciri and ava and laramore and the relationship with the laboratory elf did he use her as a consolation or a kind of medicine for the pain he suffered because of lara? and what does she feel for him is it just because he is a wise man or does she have feelings did she feel Ciri as a threat? please i want your opinion on this relationship

A courtesan or a lover (prospective, new, old, or otherwise)? Or a psychologist? The former frequently function as the latter. Certainly though, a woman who very much wanted to be in that boat instead of Ciri that afternoon.

We met the "laboratory elf" in Lady of the Lake.

She found Avallac’h on the terrace by the river just as he was boarding a boat in the company of a gorgeous elf-woman with straw-coloured hair. The elf-woman was wearing lipstick the colour of pistachios and flecks of golden glitter on her eyelids and temples. … Ciri was about to turn around and walk away when Avallac’h stopped her with a gesture. And invited her into the boat with another. Ciri hesitated. She didn’t want to talk in front of witnesses. Avallac’h said something quickly to the elf-woman and blew her a kiss. The elf-woman shrugged and went away. She only turned around once, to show Ciri with her eyes what she thought of her. ‘If you could, refrain from comment,’ said Avallac’h when she sat down on the bench nearest the bow.

Ironically, TW3 gives her a name: Isilira. In short, Lira. Not a huge jump from Lira to Lara, and that already says plenty. I am only half joking. (She is also implicated as a spy; present on Naglfar in a cut quest. But it's unknown if the Child of the Elder Blood quest was at the game in that iteration of the game or not.) TW3 reinforces the idea of her as of Avallac'h's paramour and I don't think it's misguided. Based on what the game shows, Isilira seems up for indulging Avallac'h's desires, or maybe shares some of them in a complementary manner (perhaps they're using each other in a mutually enjoyable way; wouldn't that be lovely). On display in the laboratory though are both Isilira's and Ciri's jealousy and preconceived notions about Avallac'h: Isilira hopes he is not serious about Ciri and Ciri hopes exactly the opposite, that there is something more serious Avallac'h feels toward her.

Why was the elf woman at TnL that day? What made her special enough to earn a private rendezvous with one of the most powerful elves in the realm? Gorgeous, prepared. She clearly expected to be favoured over Ciri, but was restrained & distant enough not to make her displeasure known to Crevan upon being set aside for a dh'oine. (No, correct that: closely avoiding a three-way date. Crevan's oblivious at first, inviting Ciri to him immediately.) If theirs is an established relationship then boundaries might already be set (lover or professional courtesan, I think there would be a minefield to learn by heart with Avallac'h just the same). If she is new, well, then her contempt for Ciri is all the more understandable (an object of desire or a potentially useful client preferring some mongrel over you, I mean…). How serious could it possibly be, though? How much does the elf woman know about the gossip circling about Ciri, who bears the eyes of Lara? Does the "don't take away my memories of Lara" not apply to anyone but Ciri? Evidently.

Rewind.

I find the fact that this scene with the elf-woman is included in LotL incredibly interesting.

The man who has ever only wanted the love of one Woman, who cheated on him and did not want him in the end, is himself wanted by other women. Crevan's love for Lara seems to have been painfully genuine; earnest, despite his inherent pragmatism. It is always interesting to see what happens to people like him upon being disappointed in an ideal they have allowed themselves to fall for.

I think Avallac'h's vanity is a surprisingly underappreciated aspect of his persona. He is an elite of the elite - The Guy - and he knows it. He has an ego. Appropriately bruised by The Woman. But The Woman is dead and a few others at TnL may have sighed in relief when it happened; there's free real estate now. Joke's on them, of course, but has that ever stopped anyone persistent in the short term? I guess it takes a particular type.

Speaking of types: Avallac'h seems to be all about the Halo effect nowadays. To be seen as romantically linked with an attractive partner puts a seal of approval on a man's desirability in the eyes of other women. You don't know the guy personally and might infer he has qualities women desire in mates. Interesting insofar as the scene's included for Ciri's POV. You can halo-effect yourself too, of course; most who have ever been left or betrayed or hurt have questioned their self-worth. And that's yet another aspect that makes Avallac'h a really complicated character. You wouldn't know this implied mass murderer's heart and ego have been chewed up, mangled, and spat out by The Woman he loved unless her ghost was summoned: but simultaneously, when you learn it, you also learn that while Crevan is genuinely forlorn he is also absolutely resentful. Underneath, he is still angry. He hasn't dealt with it. Perhaps he is trying to deal with it.

(And I can hear a fic calling at me with a plot of him going to the she-elf as to a bed shrink; a witch he spends almost as much, if not more, time talking to while they are bathing as he does fucking her. I imagine Ciri features heavily in those conversations, as this is where it all gets really deliciously messed up. And I imagine Isilira is - on a professional level - amused, even while personally her heart is finding new degrees of stone to turn into. There, a WIP was born. Thanks, anon!)

And as concerns his vanity, who is to say Crevan didn't think he was the best thing since sliced bread right from the get go; when he was courting Lara? Being genuinely in love with someone makes you adjust your personality a lot, sure, but given how in-your-face Avallac'h's self-love is I don't think it's ruled out he took it as self-evident he was the best-suited for Lara. A wonderful loop: Destiny confirming self-importance and self-importance confirming Destiny. (But also - love; do we not all think along these lines when we are in love? Which came first? What feeds what?) Now, I don't know much about being the top 0.01% and how that affects what you're looking for in your partner - someone who understands your exceptionality & embraces what others see as vices must have been reassuring & relaxing on some level for Lara - but I can see smugness causing an allergic reaction even if the person loves me very-very much. Moreover, I think it's ironic how emotionally unavailable Avallac'h post-Lara does to those who desire him what Lara ended up doing to him. Circles of hurt everywhere; unintentional or not.

#asks #avallac'h #isilira #lady of the lake #lara dorren #ciri #the witcher #wiedźmin #the witcher 3 #character analysis #headcanons #aen elle #the witcher books #and that he is an aev saevherne who cannot allow his own ego to overshadow things but is still capable of selfishness is just a delight #quoting gimilzor: avallac'h you chucklefuck

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thatwildnya · 9 months

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Can you make any writing about Robin fire emblem (Male) being autistic? (Like showing his special interests or Chrom helping him deal with noise or something) Please ignore this ask if no!

Nya: this is a nice change from what we usually get! i'm happy to do some hcs likes this, hope you enjoy love~ also added a hint of gay gay homosexual gay chrobin hope you don't mind-

TW: none? probably??

first things first, get yourself an autistic tactician. they can only be defeated by another autistic tactician in a battle of wits. we autistic fellows are far beyond you mortals understanding, do not question our ways.

anyway

when it's go time it's go time. man will forget to do his basic needs and probably ignore them when he does remember because he is in the zone and needs to work until he no longer can comprehend the simplest tasks. Chrom is one of the few who can get away with dragging his sleep deprived ass away from his precious diagrams and maps without getting electrocuted to unconsciousness. this is because he has grown resistant to it.

our favorite one sleeved blue hair sword man has to either tie his favorite birdie to a bed or practically lay on his until he falls asleep. food comes after the shut eye, all the shepherds learn this the hard way. as his mind starts winding down the exhaustion hits him harder than Truck-kun does an isekai protag. face plants into his soup and will drown if nobody notices the sounds of bubbles popping.

also nobody questions it when they find the great tactician dead to the world with one or more of the shepherds laying with him. during orientation Fredrick tells all new recruits that if they see Robin sleeping with anyone on the list in their pamphlets that neither of them are cheating this is one of two ways to make sure he gets rest. also do not release him if he is chained to a bed unless absolutely necessary he is in gay baby jail being punished for not following the kings orders. if he says he needs to use the bathroom please refer back to the list of people on the pamphlet and locate the nearest one to inform them of the situation.

his favorite nap buddy his Tiki. her body is warmer than others (cuz y'know dragon) and makes a nice cuddle buddy. preferably not her dragon form, he's gotten crushed enough times to know the dangers. his least favorite is Nowi. she's a bed hog and has a habit of transforming in her sleep if her dragonstone is on her.

when he's not on duty he goes out to his favorite bookstores to see if there's any new bestsellers since he's last stopped by. has befriended all the owners and clerks at each one and will spend hours discussing books of all kinds with any of them. his favorite is a back alley shop run by an elder lady who happily listens to his hours long ramblings. she always has his favorite tea in where she keeps her tea for when he drops by so he doesn't get a hoarse voice from all his talking. sometimes he brings Morgan along to chat with the lady instead when he just wants to read quietly. he feels bad otherwise cuz he knows she's a lil lonely.

due to having fought in many battles he isn't phased easily by loud noises. but there are some sounds that just throw him completely off his game. seriously enemies could use this to their advantage he cannot deal with them and have a clear head. Chrom is very aware of how they affect his bestie and tries to find a solution asap. bothered by the sound of the wind sneaking through a crack in the wall? the wall by given the 'Chrom is training and misjudged his strength' treatment. door hinge squeaks make his skin crawl? the door will be replaced within hours even if that means he has to switch it with another door in the building,

the reason Robin wears gloves his because he can't stand the feeling or sight of blood on his hands. it makes him squeamish though he isn't entirely sure why. maybe it's because it reminds him of the relationship he has with Grima. he's a bit embarrassed by this so he doesn't share this with anyone he isn't super close with. only those who are more observant will notice the change in his demeanor because he's so good at hiding it. carries around two extra pairs of gloves in case some get into the ones he's wearing. Miriel, Lisa, and Fredrick also carry some extras. Chrom forgets half the time but he means well.

when he gets super excited about something that goes in hand with his interests he has a tendency to go off on a tangent. you probably won't be able to get a word in and it might take a bit to excuse yourself because he'll keep interrupting you. please be patient with him he's just really happy. his hands are all over the place while he talks and might start pacing around.

his stimming comes in the form of leg bouncing, finger tapping, and pen clicking (or tapping idk if click pens exists for him). unless he's presenting his leg or fingers start moving the longer a meeting is. Fredrick is usually the one to help him keep his stimming from being distracting during meetings as Chrom needs to keep his focus on the meeting at hand. the most Chrom usually does is nudging Robin's foot with his own silently reminding him to not be too distracting. Fredrick's methods involve coughing into his hand, foot nudges, a quick poke to the arm or back, and sometimes (usually when Robin is feeling extremely stressed) setting a hand on his shoulder to help ground him. there have been a few occasions when he's had to have to writing utensil snatched away lightning fast because of the all the racket he's making with it but hey, it happens to the best of us.

will throw up if he gets anything super spongy slimy in his mouth a big no no for him. do not give him calamari he will puke and refuse to eat anything for the next week that isn't something he is absolutely sure is safe.

gets pouty when his favorite pillow is unavailable. it smells like chrom his favorite person and unless he's sleeping with or given something that has the same scent he refuses to sleep. also can't sleep if it's completely silent. a curse of being autistic is your mind is either hyper focused on one thing or there are too many things going through your head. background noise helps to keep his thoughts from running off like that enemy you defeat multiple times but can only kill once you reach a certain part of the game. (looking at you Hubert)

has an after battle routine that must not be disturbed less you want a grumpy tactician on the job. and trust me, a grumpy Robin is a trigger happy Robin. and by that i mean he will cast bolganone at you for simply saying hi.

#nya's writing #fire emblem #fire embem awakening #fe awakening #fe robin #fe chrom #fe frederick #fe tiki #fe nowi #fe grima #fe hcs #fe awakening hcs #fe headcanons #fe awakening headcanons #chrobin

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opscurus · 1 year

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"Please tell me your favorite things about my portrayal/muse?"

Hi again. I'm the anon who sent in the song and ask meme about why I follow you.

Before I reply to the meme, I'd like to respond to your last post.

I'd love to hear about you and be someone you can slide into DMS with. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if you'll be able to relate to me and if we can find a common ground to discuss given that I follow your main blog but am actually more interested in the muses of your sideblogs; in fact, I don't know anything about Ichigo in canon. Plus, I'm much younger than you and can't really say that I have experienced your life issues, even though I sympathise with them.

I'm not sure if you'll like talking to me. I'm afraid that talking to me will be a chore for you. Thus, I've held back on saying anything from my actual blog so far. (You might have guessed who I am, though.)

However, I think we do have some interests that overlap. Although I don't want to place stress on you to talk about muses which aren't on your mind most of the time....if the fancy ever strikes you to talk about Cardfight!! Vanguard, Boku No Hero Academia, or Future Card Buddyfight, I would like to do so. Usually, I start off a conversation by discussing characters, then I move on to relating the characters to our lives and why we choose to play or fixate on them. I'm quite awkward at conversing, so this is a method I don't really know how to break out of. If that's something you would like to do with me, I would be more than enthusiastic to use my blog to message you in DMS.

And here's the part where the ask meme comes in.

I've already mentioned that I know nothing about Ichigo in canon, but I do think the type of muses you choose to play is inherently interesting. I struggled a lot with thinking of something to say for this meme, (which is why it's sent in so late after you originally posted the meme) because I wanted to answer it and reply to your kind sentiments from the last one, but also didn't feel secure in saying anything given that I share very few overlapping interests with you, and that this is a blog for Ichigo. I don't want to presume things about your interpretation of him, or to blatantly lie about how well you're playing him, close to canon or otherwise.

Finally, I decided that this was something I could say with all honesty; muses are so very often interconnected with who we are, as you also said in your reply to me. We tend to give everyone the sentiments that we keep inside ourselves, and explore our own character through our muses. It's true that muse=/=mun, but I believe that our muses are kind of an AU version of ourselves sometimes. They're choices that we may have made had we been thrown into a different reality, and more often than not we personally relate to them. And the muses that you choose to play have always given me a fascinating feeling that forced me at gunpoint and cold steel to read your RPS, whether I understood what they were talking about or not. That may be because they're kind people.

Gao Mikado, who learned kindness from his elder brother and those around him despite his originally overwhelming competitive nature.

Rouga Aragami, who was scared to leave behind power but carved out another path for the sake of righting his friend.

Noboru Kodo, who had to get up again and again and renew his courage against the lack of talent and luck that stood against him.

Aichi Sendou, who you portray lost in Psyqualia, lost in a world that was nothing but forbidding to him, seeking approval.

Bakugo Katsuki, who pushed himself so hard to be the best, but whom started having thoughts for others along the way.

Toshiki Kai, who requires no explanation.

And from reading the roleplay of Ichigo, and most of your other muses, I think I can safely say that though your world is unimaginably hard, and stressful, and so is theirs, your roleplays always tend towards a more positive direction; towards the light. Perhaps it would be good to describe your roleplay portrayal as a field of sunflowers in the twilight. Night is about to arrive, but they reach towards the tomorrow that is about to come after that. Your portrayals keep me wondering "what is going to happen next? I want to see." , "I should read up on the fandom Wikipedia of this character when I am freer. I want to understand the context of this situation.", things like that.

They're magnetic, and make me want to leap headfirst into the fandom that you so clearly put your heart and soul into.

You make me want to be a part of that fandom. Should life allow it, I will.

I think (allow me to presume a little) that this character trait of your muses is one that belongs to you as well. There's something in you that is strong and sharp and unwilling to give up, like a hard acorn.

Even buried in a frosty, hard ground in winter by some Ice Age squirrel, it will eventually sprout again, to bring new life.

Well, it's something like that. Or is the 390 year old bonsai tree that survived Hiroshima a better way to put it?

Have a good day.

here's another song for you: better with you by gentle bones

(( Hello, good to hear from you again. I believe I know who you are, but should you want to stay anonymous here, I don't want to display the possible blog for everyone to see.

In wanting to talk with me even though you don't know anything about Ichigo, that's completely okay. I have other friends here, like you, who only follow me here to write with me on my sideblog(s) and that's 100% fine with me.

I'd love to talk about those fandoms, they mean a lot to me, and maybe we could rp them together when I'm feeling better and adjusted to get back here. I can GUSH about them (VANGUARD especially) for hours lol), and am rusty with writing most of them but welcome any kind of interaction.

I like your method of contact and conversation, if it works, I'd say stick with it. I'd be more than happy to go that route with you in DMs.

"A FIELD OF SUNFLOWERS IN TWILIGHT"

That's a very moving image to conjure, and I like it a lot. Thanks for the kind words and I know it probably took you a moment to think about writing all this, I feel pleased you can thought dump with me, I already feel closer to you.

--that song you shared was really good feeling aaaa I loved it and will share it with my friends!!! This was nice to wake up to the other day, I just had to work through answering the questions and thoughts you shared with me. Once again, thank you. ))

#【 ★ ━━ ooc 】#【 ★ ━━ anon 】#【 ★ ━━ asks 】#long post cw #【 ★ ━━ save tag 】#(( mobile ))

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daandov · 6 months

Text

[ ... ] ─── i do it so it FEELS LIKE HELL - i do it so i feel real.

i am only thirty and like the cat i have nine times to die. ─── [ ... ]

O MY ENEMY DO I TERRIFY ??

#DAANDOV. ──────── a writing blog for an ORIGINAL CHARACTER for the LAST DRAGONBORN in 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚'𝐬 𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐕 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐦. [ ... ] focusing on motifs of :: the tragic hero , being nothing but a vessel for prophecy , gods leaving husks behind of their champions , coming out the other side of the hero's journey worse off , dogged loyalty , getting chewed up and spit out , feminine rage , how much more of myself do i have to give? , being doomed by the narrative [ ... ] crossovers are preferred & no knowledge of elder scrolls is needed to interact ── blog established october 2023 , character est in 2018 , loved by ouija , 21+ , she/her , rules below the cut

affiliated with @recitedemise

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻⸻

( ₁. ) character timeline . ( ₂. ) pre-est connections . ( ₃. ) spotify . ( ₄. ) aesthetics . ( ₅. ) pintrest . ( ₆. ) carrd .

001. general ⸻ this blog is a writing blog for my oc VALVARI ALANTAR who i've built over the past five years. intrinsically tied to the legacy of the dragonborn mod, she is a canon divergent last dragonborn. i use caps from baldurs gate just because of it's character creation.

SPARK NOTES :: valvari's adoptive fathers own museums across the world. she's grown up first learning deep history, and being more book focused, but as she began showing a bit of a temper and anger streak, she was sent with one of her father's to start adventuring to begin finding artifacts and curios that are gathered to store in the museums. just recently, they've opened a new museum and val is going to start adventuring on her own in order to help fill it.

002. following ⸻ this is a highly selective blog , i am keeping my circle very small right now and will only interact with those who make concerted efforts to plot with me. i practice mains, i'm not interested in exclusives. i do not follow writers under the age of 21. if you're ever softblocked and you still want to interact, please feel free to follow again, it's never that serious i promise.

i softblock liberally if we have not interacted, i'm not interested in being a number to people. i don't expect to be responding to our threads every day, i don't expect constant ooc talk, we all have lives and other muse interests. what i expect is interaction with other posts that show you're interested in my muse. a like or a reply to a post goes a long way. when time goes on and you're radio silent but still active on dash, i'll likely just softblock just so i'm not feeling unwanted. i promise it's not a big deal, it's just about curating my dash to active mutuals.

003. formatting ⸻ i don’t care about formatting or icon usage on your end , you do what makes you most comfortable. i personally use normal text with some formatting, and icons only show up in writing if i feel like it. i'll use them if i'm feeling it, otherwise there may be threads or posts where they're absent because i couldn't be bothered to add them. if there's something about my formatting that doesn't work for you let me know and i can adjust.

004. shipping ⸻ i love shipping and am always open to discussing it. val requires chemistry to ship with and i require being comfortable together ooc. it's not going to be a focus on this blog and i'll never be the first to ask in order to keep people from feeling uncomfortable. if you are interested, let me know, i won't consider it forceshipping, but be aware i may say no.

please note :: val is sex positive and a bit blunt, so she may flirt if she thinks your muse is attractive but i'm ALWAYS okay with her being shut down. i promise it's never that serious, and i'm not trying to beg for a ship. she will also drop the topic the moment someone isn't interested.

005. plotting ⸻ i rely heavily on plotting and interacting ooc and my attention will be focused around those of my followers who i have a plot for and rapport with. it isn’t necessary to have one off the bat , but if interactions are going to go anywhere , plotting is required. i typically prioritize these threads/muses and if we go a period of time without interacting or you showing interest in my muse/blog at all, i'll softblock so i can keep my dash to the people i'm actively writing/chatting with.

006. interacting ⸻ i will like starter call , but do not wait to see one on my blog because it won’t happen often. instead , please send memes. they can always become threads. and they are great ways to explore our muses while we aren't working on our active threads. send them and send them often, i'm never agitated if you're sending multiple. i'll delete any i don't have muse for but i'll always answer some.

007. triggers ⸻ there will be adult content present on this blog including , but not limited to :: sexual content , potential mention of self harm , violence , adult language. if you are uncomfortable with any of these please tell me and i will avoid them in our threads. i don't have any specific triggers, however i will always tag potentially triggering things as : trigger tw

008. ooc ⸻ hey i’m ouija , 30+ i’m just a nerd. I have a full time job and a home to maintain so my activity will vary. icon border by ariapsds and icon psd by jaynedits

i've grown comfortable existing on the edges of fandoms and just fitting val within them, thus i'm very crossover friendly. rape, incest, pedophilia, hate / bigotry (ie: racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, etc) is not accepted on this blog. i may keep myself distant from callouts or personal drama that appears (mainly just because i don't like calling attention to myself), however i'm not against them when it comes to keeping the dash safe and letting people know about problematic people.

#pinned.

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Text

MALEC WEEK - POWER COUPLE

Alec ran, no – sprinted – through the narrow alley.

Please be okay, he prayed to himself. Please be okay.

He slashed every demon in sight, arrows flying of their volition. Alec has fought before – but never like this.

He had never fought with no regard for the consequences. He had no fear and was absolutely terrified at the same time.

His feet came to a sudden halt. Jace was standing in the alley.

“What am I afraid of?” Alec demanded.

“What?” the blonde man blinked.

“What am I afraid of?” Alec asked again, this time his voice steady.

Jace’s eyes frowned in concentration and then he looked at Alec. “Losing Magnus. You’re always worried about-”

Alec drove his seraph blade through the other man’s black t-shirt and liquid poured out like a disgusting ichor fountain.

“Sure,” Alec told the shapeshifter. “But Jace would have gone with spiders first.”

He continued to run down the path – destroying three more shapeshifters. Izzy. Maia.

One dumb demon had even taken the shape of his father who was long dead. Demons didn’t care much for research he supposed.

Shapeshifters never really appeared in hoards. But someone had messed up. Some warlock had dabbled with powers he couldn’t comprehend. Silas.

And now New York was overrun with shapeshifting demons.

They had to destroy every single one or the consequences would be severe. Jace had split them up into teams to take care of the problem.

Alec had been gearing up to assist Clary when he had gotten the message.

Please be okay, he prayed again as he ran faster. Please be okay.

He took care of another one – Julian – when he ran into a face was that familiar than most.

This face he knew.

This face he would never forget.

This face he could find among a hundred demons.

Alec wanted to leap forward and embrace the man. But Magnus was more cautious.

“What’s our wifi password?”

“Magnus, it’s me-”

“What’s our wifi password?” Magnus snapped.

“We don’t have one,” Alec rolled his eyes. “We steal the neighbor’s because he once called your fedora tacky.”

Magnus leaped now and put his arms around Alec.

“The kids,” he breathed into his neck.

“We’ll find them,” Alec promised, pulling back. “We’re gonna find them.”

“I tracked them here,” Magnus showed Rafael’s tiny shoe.

“Me too,” Alec showed Max’s little truck.

“So, they must be her-”

They heard someone running towards them and turned around immediately. Alec’s bow ready and Magnus’s hands glowing.

“Jeez, it’s me!” Izzy put up her hands.

“Prove it,” Magnus said. They are not going to take chances today.

“Alec, your brown sweater didn’t get lost in the laundry,” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Magnus portalled it to a dumpster. Or hell. Either way, good riddance.”

“You did what?” Alec whirled on Magnus.

“Not the time!” Magnus hissed at them and then glared at Isabelle. “You could have just said the name of his childhood crush.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to know about that,” Isabelle giggled.”

“Wait. What do you mean?” Magnus asked. “Who is-”

“Not the time!” Alec hissed. “Izzy, go east. Magnus and I will follow the tracker.”

Izzy gave a single nod and vanished.

Before Magnus could discover about Alec’s childhood crush and probably have an aneurism, a sound pierced through the air.

A sound of laughter. An annoying, annoying laughter. Max had the most awful taste in dolls. But he was good at naming them though.

“Miss Ducklington!” they both said and ran towards the sound.

They reached the end of the alley when they saw them. An audible breath of relief left Magnus and Alec literally felt his stomach unclench.

Max and Rafe were on the floor sitting next to each other. There were surrounded by a bunch of demons. But they didn’t seem to be afraid.

Max was curiously looking at each one talking to them about his toys. Rafe had a protective arm around his brother, but otherwise looked bored.

They know. They know their daddy and bapa would come for them.

“I’m going to burn him to the ground,” Magnus muttered under his breath.

Alec held him back. “No.”

“I know he is a warlock,” Magnus said in frustration. “But he hurt innocent people. He hurt kids. He tried to hurt our chil-”

“We need him alive,” Alec explained patiently. “We need to question why he raised the shapeshifters. We must find out if there is someone behind this.”

Magnus gave him a begrudging nod. “But secure the kids first.”

Alec gave a firm nod. There was no doubt about that.

“Silas!” Magnus yelled.

The kids both stood up at the sound and the dozen demons hissed. Max blew a raspberry at one of them.

“Let the kids go,” Alec commanded.

“No,” the warlock shook his head, his scaled skin glistening in darkness. “I want the elder scrolls first.”

“What is it with our people and ancient books!” Magnus put his hands up in the air. “Just google stuff like everyone else.”

“I know you have it, Magnus,” Silas hissed. “Give me the sacred texts. I need it.”

“For what?” Alec asked carefully.

“None of your business,” the warlock snapped.

“Alright,” Magnus said. “Give us the kids and I’ll think about it.”

“You give me the scrolls fir-”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Magnus voice cut through, sharper than any blade the iron sisters could make. “Give me my children.”

The shapeshifters moved closer in a circle, surrounding the kids.

Max’s blue eyes turned wider, but they seemed more curious than scared. Rafe’s hand still gripped his brother – his hand firm and sure.

They know. They know we will protect them.

Alec stepped forward.

“You won’t hurt me, shadowhunter,” the warlock laughed. “You need me for your interrogation.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass before taking you into custody,” Alec pointed out. “Let the kids go, Silas.”

“I don’t think so,” the warlock grinned.

Alec looked at Magnus. He felt it before he saw it.

He could feel Magnus’ magic around him – everywhere. It was desperate to break free.

“I won’t ask again,” Alec said.

Silas moved closer towards Rafael and Alec nodded.

It felt like being crashed by a wave.

Even for Alec, who had only ever found Magnus’ magic to be warm and welcoming.

Silas was on the floor, squirming and panting. The shapeshifters screeched in pain. Some even got obliterated on spot.

Not for the first time, Alec was thankful for never getting on Magnus’ bad side.

He bolted towards the kids. Magnus’ magic was surrounding them like a hurricane, a blue hurricane of fire and water and wind. He grabbed one in each arm. Max only yelled ‘wheeeee’ in glee.

“Magnus!” he yelled.

His warlock opened a portal with one arm and Alec moved closer.

“Jace!” he yelled this time.

A blonde man stared at him through the portal.

“It’s me!” he said, but Alec knew already. It was his Jace. “You think Magnus’ bread pudding is disgusting.”

“I heard that!” Magnus yelled amidst all the chaos.

“Grab the kids!” Alec yelled.

“Do you need backup?” Jace asked, as the kids ran towards him.

But the portal already closed.

“How,” the Silas choked on Magnus’ magic. “How did you-”

“Never underestimate my husband,” Alec pointed out proudly.

“Or mine!” Magnus chimed in, taking control over his magic.

On cue, Alec left four arrows fly killing off three different shapeshifters.

There were only a couple standing. And Silas of course.

“Just come with us,” Alec sighed.

“Yes, we have a dinner reservation at seven, you selfish jerk!” Magnus called, taking care of another shapeshifter.

“Never,” the warlock tried to get on his feet but was pushed to the floor by Magnus’ magic again. “I will never comply. I will never surrender. Not to you, shadowhunter.”

“How about me?” Magnus batted his eyes.

“Nephilim bootlicker,” the warlock spat. “I hope you die before him. I hope whatever demon gave you life will be the one to take it away. Or I will do it myse-”

Alec fingers curled around the man’s red hair and pulled him up. Silas left out a sharp hiss of pain.

It hurt.

Good.

“Threaten my husband again and I will rip off your arm,” Alec whispered a promise. “And beat you to death with it.”

“Darling, you are ruining my appetite,” Magnus chided. “Besides, my father has much more impo-”

Magnus groaned and his magic slipped.

He is draining, the thought occurred to Alec. His magic is draining.

Warlocks, many Nephilim didn’t realize or bothered to learn, did not have an infinite source of power. They had to rest. Rehabilitate. Renew.

And Magnus had used a gigantic amount of power tonight.

The tracking. The portals. The fighting.

And whatever crazy magic blizzard storm thing he had unleased earlier. He probably didn’t have to go this hard. But he had anyway.

But it wasn’t just a show of magic. It was a message.

The entire alley was surrounded in demon ichor and filth.

It was a message to anyone who tried to hurt his family.

There was one shapeshifter still left standing – right in front of Magnus, who was kneeling on the floor.

Silas laughed. It was an ugly, ugly sound.

“You’re all out of tricks, Bane,” he crowed and then said something in a demonic language to the shapeshifter. “Kill him!”

Alec could have pulled out his bow and shot the demon – and Silas. Two for one.

But he didn’t.

This was a show of power.

This was a message.

Alec threw a seraph blade towards the demon and Magnus, who was kneeling gripped the hilt without looking.

“You can’t use a seraph blade,” the warlock sneered. “You’re just a warlock.”

“I’m not just anything,” Magnus stood up and the seraph blade light up in red, the color of blood.

The color of hell.

“I’m a Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus grinned and drove the seraph blade through the last shape shifter.

The warlock’s mouth opened in awe – and fear. And then disgust.

“You abomination!” he yelled. “You are a disgrace to all warl-”

Alec kneed him right in the face and Silas passed out. “He talks too much.”

“A side effect of immortality,” Magnus shrugged.

Alec looked around them.

It was a disaster alright. But it was worth it.

Because the message was clear.

You don’t mess with the Lightwood-Banes.

#I do like a good fight scene kjdhsfjlsd #malec week #malec #dont mess with the lightwood banes #dani writes stuff

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relaxxattack · 3 years

Note

(i dont care to do c! tags bc theres. so many characters. if i dont say cc! then im talking abt the characters) normally i am not one to think much about the syndicate bc outside of ranboo being there to protect tubbo the syndicate Frustrates me a bit but. if phil starts to realize just how fucked over tubbo got by schlatt being erased from the narrative (and especially how shittily techno has treated tubbo) then i really hope they lean into like. the fact that the syndicate may soon turn into phil, niki, ranboo, and possibly the mystery member (im including mystery member mostly because i think tubbo is on good terms with almost everyone except like. dream, possibly wilbur but we'll see, and like the eggpire ppl but none of them are likely options but it is possible that the mystery member could just be neutral) all like. wanting tubbo to be safe and phil is *just* reasonable enough that i think he'd realize how unfair it is for tubbo to have been subjected to so much shit just for techno to introduce even more fear and the need to hide in his life

like phil already keeps the bee duo marriage and michael a secret, he lets tubbo come over and while of course its mostly from the semi lore vibes phil seems vaguely fond of tubbo already (i dont think phil and tubbo have father/son vibes tho, more just like. tubbo is just That Kid that adults cant help but adore even though the kid will rob them of house and home. slightly amused elder watching a tiny fucking gremlin make sex jokes and talk about soviet russia), niki from what i remember still cares about tubbo (probably because she cant redirect any anger towards him without realizing how unjustified it would be kcnsks she can come up with excuses for hating tommy but tubbo didnt do anything that niki has a problem with outside of her maybe having a bad view on butcher army if she knows about it?), ranboo is. ranboo. i dont need to clarify. and then like said theres a very low possibility of the fifth member *disliking* tubbo or being unable to sympathize with him.

people talk a lot about how techno needs to lose in a way that he cant easily come back from without introspection and i think while the rest of the syndicate standing up for tubbo would increase technos grudge against tubbo initially its also like. something that i think would maybe force techno to see tubbo as a person because now theres nothing techno can box (haha gettit. tubbox tubbo in a box tubbo getting boxed into certain roles by people who refuse to let him out techno esp doin this teehoo) tubbo into that wouldnt just. acknowledge that tubbo is a person. hes not apart of the government anymore, not planning any failed revolution, the most negative title to his name is being one of the nuke makers but even then thats out of fear and safety and techno knows that. otherwise tubbos current crimes are nothing thats special to tubbo (like. stealing and searching for evidence in ppls homes and stuff, the latter of which techno doesnr even know about). right now tubbos a husband, a father, a friend, a kid, *ex*-government, a person. and just.

i think that with how much foreshadowing about tubbos execution no longer being a secret amongst the witnesses and tubbo himself and soon being something that people close to techno like phil and ranboo know about as well (in that i want phil to learn that techno did it and for ranboo to learn about it in general bc hes just biased enough for tubbo and just smart enough that i think even if somehow he wasnt told who did it he could figure it out), and with the fact that tubbos lore has been confirmed to now be something thats actively going to be played into? i think (or at least hope) that it might spur phil and techno into finally seeing tubbos side of the story (and probably also get into the possibility of tubbo opening up to tommy and ranboo but i do think realistically either tubbo will try to play it off/not truly open up about how much its effected him or tubbo will at first shut down or go into complete repression mode, especially if phil and ranboo get the story from other people rather than tubbo himself [but god do i hope they confront tubbo himself]. either those two or tubbo talks about his emotions through fucking snapping at something/someone like he did at quackity when reminded of his execution, which as long as its Not tommy or ranboo ill absolutely be cheering on him for)

which is all a very convoluted way of saying uhh. *grabby paws at the ccs currently involved in the arc of clearing up personal misconceptions about l'manberg (and especially tubbos involvement and how easily those around him judged him based off of their versions of the story)* tubbo lore? tubbo healing tubbo talking about his problems? characters learning to see him as a person and recognizing how traumatized he is and that hes not uneffected but actively repressing any effects? please? (also ending note as the cherry on top of this essay that im sorry for dropping into your inbox: im kind of glad that tommys healing arc and tubbos possible healing arc are going to happen at similar times but are still separate. something something its nice to see acknowledgement that tommy and tubbo wont heal in the same way and arent going to know how to help each other but theyre still going through it together. their arcs are intertwining without removing their individuality and as someone w major co-dependency issues its kind of nice idk. you can be there for someone and still acknowledge that you have your own things to go through too and that while you wont be alone you shouldnt force those around you to support you. the bench trio are all helping each other out of free will and genuine love for each other while still realizing they have some problems they arent ready to talk about yet that arent forced to the open because theyre all doing their best to handle each other with care and i just. bench trio my beloveds. the kids are alright.) -🎭🎪 (also as the actual end note if theres ever a need to refer to me as something other than the emojis mask or eyez works fine but the idea of my name being the emojis is also Very Funny to me so do what you will)

im working on my aperture camera college assignment rn and my brain is sort of fried so i dont have an intelligent answer, but i got the happy chemical reading this.

yeah. i think we all know here that my favorite character is tubbo, and i REALLY hope we get him addressing anything that’s happened to him in canon. pretty much all of what you said sounds very good. *grabby hands* spare tubbo lore? please? spare tubbo lore?

perhaps during the three weeks wilburs off in the fucking woods (/lh) we could have a the-others-find-out-what-happened-to-tubbo-(and in DETAIL)-arc. pleaseeeeeeeee and ty

#🎭🎪#lol #anonymous

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ibijau · 3 years

Note

Losing their memory only to have it come back after a much awaited true love’s kiss Nie Huaisang & Lan Xichen please. Lan Xichen loses his memory (maybe on a night hunt?) And even though him and Nie Huaisang have been together for over a year they haven't told anyone else yet so Nie Huaisang tries to wait for him to remember on his own but when he doesn't Nie Huaisang eventually breaks down and ends up kissing him. (Either completely alone or in front of a huge crowd) again I don't mind changes

also on AO3

this got a bit out of hand and is nearly 6K, oops?

Lan Xichen turns toward Nie Huaisang, and smiles politely.

“And you are?”

Nie Huaisang nearly drops his fan. More than the question, it is the tone of theother man’s voice that shocks him. It is the polite but slightly distant tone that Lan Xichen uses when talking to sect leaders or people who have come to beg for Gusu Lan’s help. Nie Huaisang has only once before been on the receiving end of that tone, the first time he came to visit Lan Xichen after the events in that temple.

It was a slap back then to be treated so coldly.

It is even more so now, with the new balance they’ve tentatively started to reach.

Nie Huaisang is too stunned to answer, but the juniors around Lan Xichen seem unsurprised by this. They trade a few worried glances, then the most confident Lan junior grabs Lan Xichen’s sleeve and smiles up at him.

“Lan zongzhu, that’s Nie zongzhu,” he explains. “He’s the one who came with the Nie juniors to help supervise the Night Hunt. You really don’t remember that either?”

“Not right now,” Lan Xichen amicably admits. “But I’m sure it will come back to me very soon. I’m sorry if that was rude, Nie zongzhu,” he adds, turning his attention back to Nie Huaisang and bowing slightly. “I seem to have suffered through a slight mishap and cannot remember a number of things. Please be patient with me if I behave inappropriately.”

Behind Lan Xichen, a few of the Nie juniors grimace. Even the Lan kids look uncomfortable. None of them know how close the two adults with them are, but they’ve seen their friendly banter earlier in the day, miles away from this reserved manner of address. Lan Xichen has never called Nie Huaisang ‘Nie zongzhu’ outside of discussion conferences. It feels wrong, so wrong that Nie Huaisang almost feels dizzy.

He keeps himself calm though. The children are already very distressed, and Lan Xichen is obviously not in a state to deal with anything, so Nie Huaisang has to take charge until someone more competent comes along.

“What happened?” he asks the Lan junior who spoke earlier. “Did he get hurt?”

A wound to the head could explain temporary difficulties, but Lan Xichen doesn’t look unwell. Indeed, the Lan junior only briefly hesitates before shaking his head.

“We’d spotted the demon,” the boy explains, glancing up at his sect leader. “Lan zongzhu thought there was something strange about it, so he asked us to stay back while he got a better look. But the demon spotted him and did something, and now he’s like that and doesn’t remember anything.”

Nie Huaisang nods along. So does Lan Xichen.

“If that’s so, I’m glad I went ahead,” he says. “A demon? How frightful. I’m glad none of you children were harmed.”

In spite of his growing anxiety, Nie Huaisang can’t help a weak smile upon hearing this. Even like this, Lan Xichen is still the same person, and Nie Huaisang is impossibly fond of him. It must be terrifying to not know who anyone is or what’s going on, and yet Lan Xichen is so fundamentally kind that he’s still more worried about the children than his own state.

“Indeed, we were lucky,” Nie Huaisang agrees, opening his fan to hide that smile he can’t contain. “From the way villagers described it, I wouldn’t have expected that demon to be strong enough to harm Zewu-Jun. That’s you,” he adds, catching Lan Xichen’s confused gaze. “Your courtesy name is Lan Xichen, you are sect leader of Gusu Lan, and your title is Zewu-Jun.”

“It’s pretty,” Lan Xichen muses. “What is your title, Nie zongzhu?”

Nobody says anything, but Nie Huaisang can still hear the juniors of both thinking ‘Headshaker’. He doesn’t get called that too much these days, but he doubts that it will ever fully leave him. Usually he doesn’t mind, but somehow it’d be embarrassing for this more innocent version of Lan Xichen to know anything about Nie Huaisang’s tricks.

“I don’t have a title,” he announces, before turning again to the children. “Do you have everyone from your group? Did you count yourself after the demon escaped? No one missing or added?”

“No, Nie zongzhu,” a different Lan boy answers. “We’re the same number as before. Nie zongzhu, can you cure Lan zongzhu?”

However touched he is that anyone would have that sort of faith in him, Nie Huaisang grimaces.

“No, probably not. Let’s go back to the inn for now, and from there I’ll send a distress signal to warn Hanguang-Jun.”

“Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Xichen curiously repeats. “A friend of mine?”

Before Nie Huaisang can answer, the Lan juniors all start correcting their sect leader, eager to explain who Lan Wangji is. Even some of the Nie children join in, such is the fame of the great Hanguang-Jun. All Nie Huaisang can do is herd everyone toward the village where they’re staying, and make sure that nothing too outrageously untrue is said.

He notices that while the children don’t hesitate to speak about Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen’s claims to fame from the Sunshot campaign and after, they are careful not to say anything about more recent events. The oldest among them can’t be much more than thirteen, but they already have enough good sense to guess that speaking of Jin Guangyao would only hurt Lan Xichen. Nie Huaisang feels proud of them, though he knows he has no reason. He’s not the one who raised them, and even his own disciples have not felt his influence much.

Perhaps more than pride, it is gratefulness that he feels. Or else, it might be admiration. Such is the effect that Lan Xichen has on people: it is impossible to know him and not care for him.

With the children chatting and Lan Xichen listening, they make it safely to the inn. That’s where Lan Wangji and the inevitable Wei Wuxian find them after a few hours.

Things, after that, go very fast. Lan Wangji checks on his brother while Wei Wuxian interrogates the juniors to learn more about the demon. Nie Huaisang stands to the side, knowing he won’t be of any help. He pays their bill, and announces to the village chief that they won’t be able to eliminate the demon just yet, but will make sure the situation isn’t allowed to degenerate.

It is a bit of a surprise when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian say that they have no idea how to get Lan Xichen back to normal, but it isn’t a huge shock either. Nie Huaisang is starting to suspect the demon might have been extremely powerful, but merely of mischievous temper rather than outright evil and thus only caused small problems for local people. It is a little worrying that Lan Xichen might have been cursed, but the Lan elders are wise people and they will set him right in a matter of days.

So while Lan Wangji takes his brother home, followed by his husband and the Lan juniors, Nie Huaisang gathers his own little disciples and prepares to do the same without having exchanged another word with Lan Xichen. It doesn’t bother him too much.

He knows he’ll soon hear from Lan Xichen, and together they'll laugh about this misadventure.

As days turn into weeks, Nie Huaisang tries not to worry about the lack of news coming from the Cloud Recesses. If things weren’t going well, he would have heard about it. Gusu Lan might have a rule against gossip, but servants and guest disciples still like to chat. Just as Nie Huaisang was among the first to hear when Lan Xichen entered seclusion after the death of Jin Guangyao, he’s sure he would know if his curse had proved impossible to lift.

Lan Xichen must be fine.

Which means, also, that his silence must be a deliberate choice. That for whatever reason, he cannot find time to spare to tell his lover that he is feeling better, nor to schedule when they might try to meet again. Lan Xichen is a busy man, and ruling Gusu Lan is a more involved job than ruling Qinghe Nie, so Nie Huaisang has been warned from the start that if they chose to change the nature of their friendship, there would be long periods where they wouldn’t meet.

Nie Huaisang, refusing to appear possessive or clingy, decides not to ask for news when none is given. He has distracted Lan Xichen from his responsibilities too often when he was playing the fool, he cannot continue doing so now that he is no longer hiding.

Weeks continue passing, and still not a word from the Cloud Recesses, except an official letter reminding Nie Huaisang that he is invited to a discussion conference set there. The letter bears Lan Xichen’s seal, further proving that he is fine and simply too busy to fool around. Or perhaps that incident with the demon, and how useless Nie Huaisang was in the aftermath, has reminded Lan Xichen that aside from plotting murder and painting, his lover isn’t good for much.

The advantage of a secret relationship, Nie Huaisang realises one day, is that there’s no need for a public break-up. Lan Xichen only has to stop contacting him, and things are over.

He realises, also, that it was Lan Xichen who insisted on keeping things secret as they figured out if this could work. He had said that Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji might have objections otherwise, which seemed like a wise consideration at the time, but now Nie Huaisang can only wonder…

If this was Lan Xichen taking revenge for being left in the dark about Jin Guangyao’s true nature, then he played his cards well. Nie Huaisang never saw it coming, though perhaps he should have.

Even for a man as kind as Lan Xichen, some things must be too much to forgive.

When the time for that discussion conference comes, Nie Huaisang considers not going. There’s never much there that interests him in those conferences, and he doesn’t quite feel ready to face Lan Xichen yet after what he is now convinced was a silent break-up. He also refuses to give anyone the satisfaction of having wounded him, though, and that means he has to go to Gusu and act unaffected.

Not so long ago, it would have been odd to arrive at the gates of the Cloud Recesses and not be greeted in person by Lan Xichen. Usually whoever is guarding the entrance has instructions to go warn their sect leader that his old friend has arrived, allowing Lan Xichen to lead Nie Huaisang inside even though he was given a jade token long ago, back after his brother’s death.

This time, Nie Huaisang gets to use that token at last, because he is told to go in alone since Lan Xichen isn’t free to come at the moment. He supposes he should feel grateful that the token hasn’t been deactivated. Maybe Lan Xichen feared there would be a scandal. Maybe he doesn’t care enough to remember that Nie Huaisang even has that token.

Either way, Lan Xichen isn’t there, and ultimately it is Lan Wangji who comes to meet him and leads him to the guest quarters. Nie Huaisang figures it’s better than if it had been Lan Qiren, who still scares him a little from his time as a student.

At dinner that evening, Lan Xichen is absent. Nie Huaisang doesn’t ask any questions, but someone else does, only to be told that Lan Xichen has to deal with some urgent situation and likely won’t be present during the entire discussion conference. There’s some whispers about that, unsurprisingly, but no one is alarmed and Nie Huaisang least of all. With Gusu Lan’s reputation, they tend to be asked to help with very delicate cases that require great expertise. It is not so extraordinary for Lan cultivators to have to drop previous engagements to go help those in need.

Nie Huaisang may or may not be relieved that he won’t have to face his former lover just yet. Either way, he is careful not to show any emotion, especially once he notices that Wei Wuxian keeps glancing his way.

He will not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing his heartbreak.

Come morning, the discussion conference starts as it normally would. Lan Xichen’s absence is hardly felt at all. Lan Qiren is more than competent to represent Gusu Lan, having done so for many years. If Nie Huaisang’s eyes accidentally start looking for Lan Xichen every time someone says something particularly stupid… well, it’s unlikely anyone will notice. His reputation has improved, but Qinghe Nie is still not quite back to being a Great Sect again, nor is it likely to happen in his lifetime, so nobody really pays attention to him. Nobody except Lan Xichen, and…

Well, not even that anymore.

Which is fine.

Nie Huaisang has managed to be on his own for ten years, he doesn’t mind going back to that. The only regret he allows himself is that time passes so slowly in those damn conferences when he has nothing to look forward to. Inane chatter is so much worse without the promise of stolen tenderness later on.

But instead of being able to run to his lover’s arms

, when the discussion ends for the day, Nie Huaisang finds Wei Wuxian waiting for him at the door of the hall.

“Nie-xiong, let’s have a chat,” Wei Wuxian demands, grabbing him by the arm and kidnapping him so he cannot join others to dinner.

“I’m kind of hungry,” Nie Huaisang complains. “Can it wait?”

Wei Wuxian grins, and takes a small box from his sleeve, holding out for Nie Huaisang to remove the lid.

Nie Huaisang starts salivating the instant the smell hits his nose.

“Dumplings from that place you used to like,” Wei Wuxian announces. “It’s still the same man making them. So, can we have a chat, or would you rather have a proper Lan dinner with everyone?”

“Wei-xiong, you are the worst and I hate you,” Nie Huaisang grumbles, staring at the dumplings. “Fine, I’ll listen to you.”

Wei Wuxian grins and continues pulling him away from everyone. Lan Qiren, who leaves the hall last, notices them going away and glares at them but doesn't actually say anything.

"I see the in-laws are liking you a little better these days," Nie Huaisang remarks, carefully grasping one dumpling. He would have preferred not eating with his hands, but he can make sacrifices for the sake of a good meal. "Not long ago, Lan Qiren would have gone mad, seeing you disturb his conference like this."

"I didn't disturb anything, you lot were done for the day," Wei Wuxian objects, letting go of Nie Huaisang’s arm. He too grabs a dumpling, and inelegantly shoves it in his mouth. "And he's glad I'm helping with Lan Xichen," he adds, spitting food. "It's a difficult situation."

Nie Huaisang knows he's being baited. He truly knows it.

"What about Lan Xichen?" he still asks, unable to stop himself.

"Nie-xiong, don't you remember that curse he was hit with? We're still trying to lift it."

Nie Huaisang stops in his tracks and stares at Wei Wuxian.

"What do you mean you're still trying to… It's been months! What could take you so long? Aren't you supposed to be a cultivation genius? Isn't Gusu Lan a well of wisdom?"

Wei Wuxian shrugs, and gobbles another dumpling.

"So you really didn't know, eh?"

"How was I supposed to know? No one saw fit to inform me of this situation. Excuse me for having too much faith in your competence, Wei-xiong."

"Didn't it strike you as odd that Lan Xichen stopped contacting you after that incident?" Wei Wuxian retorts. "I know the two of you had become close again lately. Some friend you are, letting this much time pass without news."

Nie Huaisang's face burns at those words, and he quickly opens his fan to hide behind. It shouldn't surprise him that Wei Wuxian guessed what was going one between him and Lan Xichen.

"Yes, yes, we both know I'm a terrible friend, especially to Zewu-Jun," he grumbles. "I just assumed he was busy. Not everybody can ditch their responsibility whenever they please to go Night Hunting like you do, Wei-xiong." Nie Huaisang pauses, and sighs. "Is it really serious? Is he in any danger?"

Can I help? he wants to ask, though the very idea is so ridiculous it isn't even worth saying out loud. If all of Gusu Lan and Wei Wuxian have failed to bring Lan Xichen back to normal, Nie Huaisang won't be of any use.

"It's more inconvenient than anything," Wei Wuxian says, lifting a weight from Nie Huaisang's shoulders. "Aside from the memory loss, he doesn't suffer at all. His cultivation is still the same. He hasn't even forgotten everything either. He recalls everything to do with cultivation or the arts quite well, he can still fight without problem… But anything personal is just gone."

"Oh. Well, then it might be more of a blessing than a curse," Nie Huaisang remarks. "Or have you told him…"

Wei Wuxian quickly shakes his head, nibbling on another dumpling. Nie Huaisang steals another one and does the same, refusing to watch his dinner be eaten under his nose like this.

"We only told him basic things, to see if it would help his memory. He knows he has an uncle, a brother, that I'm married to Wangji… But since that didn't really help, we figured it was better not to say too much. Lan Qiren decided it would just have distressed him."

Nie Huaisang nods. He still remembers the way Lan Xichen looked that night, at that temple, after everything had come to light. To inflict that upon him a second time would have been too cruel.

"Truly a blessing then," Nie Huaisang muses. "Maybe it's for the best and we should let him be."

"Nie-xiong, you really are too dramatic," Wei Wuxian complains. "We've told him that his past has painful things in it, but he still wants to remember. And you should know, he's been asking about you."

Hearing this startles Nie Huaisang who gapes at Wei Wuxian.

"Didn't… Didn't you say he doesn't remember anything? Wei-xiong, make up your mind about this. I swear if you're lying…"

"Not lying," Wei Wuxian retorts, biting into the last dumpling. "He can't remember anything from before that Night Hunt, but apparently you make a strong impression on him that day. He frequently asks about the 'handsome young man' and has said a few times he wants to thank you for helping and keeping the children calm that day."

"He's just being polite," Nie Huaisang grumbles, his cheeks heating up upon hearing that even without memory of their acquaintance, Lan Xichen still finds him handsome. His looks aren’t too bad, but he doesn’t quite compare to some other cultivators. "I suppose some things don't change."

Wei Wuxian shrugs, and puts away the now empty box.

“So, Nie-xiong, are you coming with me so see Zewu-Jun? We told him you’d be here, he’s very impatient to ‘meet’ you at last.”

“No,” Nie Huaisang says.

“No?”

“No.”

“And why not?” Wei Wuxian asks, his expression quickly losing its warmth. “Aren’t you two quite close lately?”

Nie Huaisang hides behind his fan, and looks away.

“Wei-xiong, me coming to see Zewu-Jun can only have two effects,” he says, and raises a finger. “One, it does nothing to help his memory, he realises that aside from my face I don’t have much to interest him, and he’ll be embarrassed for even asking about me. I’m not stupid, without shared experiences, there’s little to draw him to me. It will just be awkward for both of us. Or else...” He raises a second finger. “Two, seeing me unlocks his memory. And wouldn’t that be cruel? He has a chance to live free from the burden of what happened, I would not take that from him.”

“Nie-xiong, you’re still a coward after all,” Wei Wuxian remarks.

“Think what you will,” Nie Huaisang retorts. “I’ve had to hurt him once like this. I can’t do it again. Could you, if it was Lan Wangji?”

“I know Lan Zhan would want to remember. Without the bad, we wouldn’t have the good either. Zewu-Jun said he wants to remember too, and he said he wants to see you. Isn’t that more important than your guilt, Nie-xiong?”

Nie Huaisang grits his teeth. There’s no reasoning with Wei Wuxian when he’s convinced to be right, and for someone who was so blind for so long, Wei Wuxian certainly thinks himself an expert about romance.

Lucky him, if what he has with Lan Wangji is worth all the pain, all the suffering. Nie Huaisang, given the choice, would rather not have gone through all of that. Even if it meant never getting the chance to be with Lan Xichen, who surely would have picked someone else if life hadn’t pushed them together. And whatever Lan Xichen says now, when he doesn’t know what darkness lurks in his past, Nie Huaisang is convinced he will regret it if his memories return to him.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t mind making that choice for him.

It won’t be the first time.

Besides, he’s already mourned the romance that had only just started between him and Lan Xichen. He is quite fine with having lost this, even if it isn’t in the way he imagined.

It’s fine.

Everything is fine, and this is for the best.

“I’ve made my choice, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang announces with all the confidence he can fake. “Please tell Zewu-Jun I cannot meet him. Even if he’s upset at first, I’m sure he’ll get over it quite easily.”

“Nie-xiong!”

Ignoring his old friend, Nie Huaisang turns around and starts walking back toward the heart of the Cloud Recesses.

If he feels a cold, gnawing sensation in his chest and stomach, he’ll blame it on hunger. After all, Wei Wuxian very rudely ate over half his dinner.

Due to a mistake, the disciples Nie Huaisang brought with him to the conference have been given their own separate room rather than to stay in the same guest quarters as him, as would be more usual. Or, well, it might be unkind to call this a mistake. It is an arrangement that became needed after things changed between him and Lan Xichen, so they could more easily have time alone. Nie Huaisang can’t remember what excuse they gave to justify the need for this, but apparently whoever is in charge of organising things for the guests wasn’t told that this isn’t needed anymore.

A shame, because Nie Huaisang isn’t particularly in the mood to be alone. Or at least, not in the mood to be alone in the damn Cloud Recesses, where he has no way of getting his hands on alcohol except through Wei Wuxian and… well, it’s not really an option. Nie Huaisang will have to face his renewed heartbreak sober, which isn’t something anyone should have to go through, he thinks.

Just as Nie Huaisang starts wondering if he should just go to sleep and try to forget this unfortunate situation, there’s a knock on his door.

It is odd for anyone to come see him. His disciples know they can’t wander around so close to curfew unless there’s an emergency, in which case they wouldn’t knock. Wei Wuxian is angry at him, and will probably remain so for a few days to a few weeks, until he forgets they had an argument. King of Grudges Lan Wangji has done his best to pretend Nie Huaisang doesn’t exist, just as he does with Jiang Cheng. Nie Huaisang can’t think of anyone who might come see him.

There’s another knock on the door, the rhythm of it familiar, yet also not. After some hesitation, Nie Huaisang decides to go check, though he carefully keeps one hand on the handle of the dagger he took to carrying everywhere since launching in motion his revenge plan.

Nie Huaisang opens the door.

And then very nearly closes it again when he sees who his visitor is.

“I’m sorry for coming so late,” Lan Xichen says with a polite smile. “And I understand that you told Wei Wuxian that you had no desire to speak to me, but I really must have answers for some of my questions.”

Nie Huaisang does some quick math. He could still try to close the door. Either Lan Xichen would accept his rejection and things would end for good, or he will force the door open and Nie Huaisang simply isn’t strong enough to stop that. He knows what Lan Xichen would normally do, but he has no idea how different this version of Lan Xichen is. Nie Huaisang would rather not risk antagonising him, not now that they aren’t even friends anymore, and not when he knows better than most how terrifying Lan Xichen could be, if he just bothered.

With a sigh, Nie Huaisang gestures for Lan Xichen to come in.

“I have little to tell you that your brother and his husband couldn’t say better than me,” Nie Huaisang meekly states, his heart clenching at the sight of Lan Xichen in this room, too much like other times and yet so different. “But I’ll try to be of use, of course.”

“I’ve tried asking them first,” Lan Xichen reveals as he steps inside, letting Nie Huaisang close the door behind him. “But they’ve admitted that they didn’t know the answer to some of my questions, and they were reluctant to share speculation with me.”

Nie Huaisang hides a grimace behind his fan. He supposes he should be grateful that Wei Wuxian and his husband have acquired such a distaste for gossip, but sometimes it’s really annoying.

“If they don’t know, I doubt I’ll know much more, Zewu-Jun.”

“And I think you do,” Lan Xichen softly insists. “I have done my own share of speculation. I have found some letters, some paintings, a few gifts, and so I must ask… Nie zongzhu, am I right in thinking we were not only friends?”

The hopefulness in Lan Xichen’s face, in his voice, are so unbearable that Nie Huaisang has to look away.

Of course Lan Xichen would have figured that out. However much they tried to hid in public, in private they were quite open about the way they felt, all the more so because they never had the chance to meet quite as often as they would have liked. Nie Huaisang’s letters were hardly restrained, though still more so than some of the ones Lan Xichen sent him. The content of those would have left no doubt possible as to the nature of their relationship.

“Zewu-Jun, I’m not sure this really matters,” Nie Huaisang says, avoiding the question. “Since you have no memory of anything, no matter what our links were in the past, it would be unfair of me to demand for them to be maintained. I will not make demands of you, don’t worry.”

“I would not mind if you did,” Lan Xichen protests, stepping closer. “All these weeks, I’ve been thinking of you a lot. Everyone else acted so worried, but you were the one person who kept his calm, you took care of the children, you made sure the innkeeper was paid, you even made sure to update the people who had called for our help on the state of their problem… I was so impressed by how level-headed you were, and that’s why I started asking questions about who we were to each other.”

Blood rushes to Nie Huaisang’s face upon hearing his behaviour that day being praised. To him, what happened back then is a bit of a blur because he was so worried for Lan Xichen, so he doesn’t really remember what he did at all. Surely he can’t have handled it that well, it must just be that Lan Xichen is too kind, as always.

“Zewu-Jun, things between us… I won’t deny that they were a certain way,” Nie Huaisang admits, gripping his fan a little harder. “And I am very touched if I made a good impression on you that time. But things between us… you have to understand, even if things were good, it had come at a heavy price. I have done many things that you did not approve of. Things I am not sorry about, because in the end, I got what I wanted, and I’m the sort of person for whom that’s what matters. To put it bluntly, I’m not a very good person, and I have no intention on improving myself.”

“I don’t think you’re quite so bad,” Lan Xichen retorts with amusement. “I have read the letters you sent me. You seem like a very soft and sentimental person, Nie zongzhu, and I think I like that.”

Nie Huaisang sighs, and shakes his head.

Suddenly, he misses Lan Xichen.

The real Lan Xichen, the one who knew his tenderness and softness didn’t mean he wasn’t also capable of horrors. The one who loved him in spite of it… perhaps even for it, at times. And the reverse was true as well. Although he'd always had a bit of a crush on Lan Xichen, it wasn't until everything was exposed, until they'd both known the best of the worst of each other, that Nie Huaisang had really fallen in love.

He can't wish for this ignorant Lan Xichen to suffer what the original one had suffered, he isn't that unkind.

But he also can't love someone who doesn't have the life experience to understand why he is the way he is.

"Zewu-Jun, I'm really not the way you think," Nie Huaisang states, as coldly as he can manage. "If you remember someday, then I'll be happy to resume what we had, should you wish it. Until then… for your own good, it's better to go our separate ways. I don't have anything to give you, not as you are now. And I love you too much to wish you the pain of remembering your past."

"So instead, you cause me the pain of being rejected," Lan Xichen bitterly remarks, walking closer, close enough to touch, if Nie Huaisang wanted. He wants to. He still doesn't move. "Can I do anything to change your mind?"

"Zewu-Jun…"

"Please understand it is very unpleasant to hear you say that you love me at the same time you’re pushing me away. If you gave me a chance…”

Nie Huaisang laughs behind his fan.

“Trust me, it’s better for you. Just walk away and forget about me.”

“Nie zongzhu, give me a chance,” Lan Xichen pleads, looking so heartbroken that Nie Huaisang has to avert his eyes.

“It’s better that way.”

It is.

It has to be.

It isn’t like things could have lasted anyway. They both have a duty to their sects, to their families. It really is better this way.

“Then at least… would you kiss me, Nie zongzhu?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Zewu-Jun, that’s not…”

“Give me this at least, if you won’t give me anything else. If we were happy once, don’t I deserve a last goodbye?”

That would be a terrible idea. Nie Huaisang knows himself. If he gets that small taste of what he used to have with Lan Xichen, he’ll be tempted to actually take that risk, and then when it fails, when this too innocent Lan Xichen realises what he’s capable of and starts hating him for it, Nie Huaisang will know it was his fault for being weak, for not making this end cleanly.

It would be stupid to kiss Lan Xichen.

But it’s been months, and the day has been so long, and Nie Huaisang is too tired to continue making the right decisions.

“Just one kiss,” he sighs, closing his fan.

In an instant, he finds himself pulled into Lan Xichen’s embrace, soft lips pressing against his own with a clumsiness that he once found endearing, when it all started. Lan Xichen was so inexperienced when they got together, though he learned fast. To be kissed against with that unskilled enthusiasm is a bitter reminder that this man isn’t quite his Xichen.

Even knowing this, Nie Huaisang returns the kiss with a touch of desperation, his arms around Lan Xichen’s neck, keeping him close while he can have him.

After a while, Lan Xichen’s mouth pulls away. Nie Huaisang, who had closed his eyes at some point, opens them again and finds his lover staring down at him with an air of shock, panting harder than the kiss truly justifies.

Before Nie Huaisang can say anything, Lan Xichen breaks into a smile and kisses him again.

This kiss is different.

This time, Lan Xichen isn’t so clumsy anymore, he knows how to lick into Nie Huaisang’s mouth, how to bite and suck on his lips just right, leaving the other man breathless. His hands are no longer just on Nie Huaisang’s hips either, they move to pet his hair, to grope his ass, his thighs, to pull him closer until there’s no space between their bodies, pushing him against the door until Nie Huaisang is trapped in the most perfect of ways.

When that kiss ends, Nie Huaisang too is breathless, and his legs feel so weak that if he weren’t clinging to Lan Xichen so tightly, he’d fall to his knees for sure.

“You ridiculous man,” Lan Xichen breathes against his lips. “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Nie Huaisang’s grip tightens. The other man’s voice seems different suddenly. Warmer. If it weren’t foolish to hope…

“Even after all this, you really can’t believe I’d trust you?” Lan Xichen accuses, sounding too amused, too fond. “We’re going to have to work on this, A-Sang. I really thought you’d learned not to try to handle everything alone.”

“Xichen,” Nie Huaisang gasps, half fearful that he’s misunderstanding. “A-Chen, are you…”

“I’m back,” Lan Xichen confirms, rubbing their nose together before stealing a brief kiss. “And I’m not letting you go, you silly man, even if I’m a little cross you’re still so convinced you don’t have my full trust. You’re really…”

“No, don’t scold me,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, suddenly a little embarrassed by how dramatic he’s been, even if he still thinks he wasn’t wrong. “You can scold me later. For now, just kiss me again. I’ve missed it, and I’ve missed you, so kiss me, A-Chen.”

Lan Xichen grins, and promptly obeys.

Nie Huaisang pulls him closer. He loves this man, loves him so much, and he’s so glad to have him back at last.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #and that's why I haven't done a prompt fill in a bit this one was just so damn long lol #theuntamedmulti

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professorrw · 3 years

Text

All I Want, Remus Lupin Fanfiction

Chapter Eighteen

Warnings: fluff, eventual smut, death, violence, swearing, age gap, slight angst, major spoilers for Deathly Hallows, fighting

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this! If you did, like, comment, and reblog! If you would like to be added to my taglist (permanent or for this series) tell me and I’ll put you on there!

You helped Remus hobble through the crowd to stand by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry was being held by Hagrid, who was sobbing. Voldemort was standing in front of Hagrid with Nagini draped over his shoulders.

The four of you yelled out to Harry. He didn't respond or move. Following your yells were others, shouting Harry's name and saying things about Voldemort and his followers.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort yelled. He shot out a spell and everyone around you seemed to fall silent. "It's over! Set him down at my feet Hagrid, where he belongs." He had a venomous smile that stretched across his pale face. Hagrid walked over and laid Harry down onto the grass gently.

Ron was stirring next to you, fist clenched and eyebrows furrowed.

"You see?" Voldemort said, walking back and forth next to Harry. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now? He was never anything more than a boy who relied on others to make sacrifices for him!"

"He beat you!" Ron yelled from beside you. That seemed to break the charm and everyone, including you, began to yell as well. Voldemort seemed pleased with all the cries and shouts. But of course, he wanted to talk again so he sent out a more powerful spell, immediately ceasing all voices.

"He was killed while sneaking off the castle grounds. While trying to save himself."

Everyone knew Voldemort was lying. Harry would never do such a thing. If anything, Harry was probably trying to sacrifice himself.

Neville was a short distance away from you and he was struggling. It looked like he was trying to break out of the spell. It worked, he ran at Voldemort but he wasn't quick enough. Voldemort disarmed Neville and he hit the ground with the sheer force of the spell.

"Who is this? Who has volunteered to show everyone what happens when you continue to resist my power?" Voldemort asked with a sly smile.

Bellatrix laughed from his side. "Neville Longbottom, Lord! He was the son of the Aurors. He's been causing trouble at school."

"Oh, yes. I remember you." Voldemort strolled over to stand above Neville's body. Neville was getting back to his feet slowly, obviously out of breath. "Aren't you a pureblood, boy?"

"So what if I am?" Neville spat back.

"You have spirit and bravery. You come from noble blood. You will make a fine Death Eater. We need people like you."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over! Dumbledore's Army!" Neville shouted.

The crowd erupted in shouts and cries of "Dumbledore's Army!" Voldemort's spell was once again broken.

Remus seemed to be gaining his own footing, no longer leaning on you as heavily. "Are you alright?" you whispered. He nodded and fixed his gaze on Voldemort. Voldemort had continued speaking but you were talking to Remus. When you looked back towards Neville, Voldemort stood above him with the Sorting Hat in his hands.

"There will no longer be Sorting at Hogwarts. You will be united under one House. The House of my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin." Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville and forced the hat onto his head. The Death Eaters had their wands positioned and ready to strike at anyone in the crowd.

Voldemort flicked his wand and the Sorting Hat was set afire on Neville's head.

"Neville!" you and Hermione shouted. You and many others seemed to surge forward at the same time, seeing Neville unable to move and on fire. A giant had come around the side of the building yelling, "HAGGER!" He must not have been one of Voldemort's, for a whole group of much larger giants charged him. Arrows began to fall upon Voldemort's side as Centaurs began to run from the trees.

Everyone on Hogwarts' side was running forward. Your attention was drawn to the spot Harry once was. He was gone. Neville had also broken out of his curse and reached into the Sorting Hat, pulling from it the Gryffindor sword. Neville swept the sword through the air and it sliced through Nagini.

Hagrid began to yell Harry's name and chaos ensued. Everyone was being pushed into the castle by the group. Death Eaters and defenders of Hogwarts shot spells at one another. Bodies dropped onto the ground as the mass of people moved.

You and Remus were in the middle of the mass and a moment after you entered the hall the house-elves ran in carrying knives and screaming. You were pushed into the Great Hall near Ginny, Hermione, and Luna. You all caught sight of Bellatrix and began to shoot spells at her. She was extremely quick, avoiding and blocking spells with ease.

The four of you shot stunning spells, disarming spells, and even Avada Kedavra at her but none fazed her. You lost sight of Remus and he had separated from you. Jets of light continued to pass between you, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, and Bellatrix. She sent out curse after curse, nearly hitting you multiple times.

Mrs. Weasley ran in from behind Bellatrix screaming, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

Bellatrix cackled as Mrs. Weasley pushed the four of you out of the way. You had never seen her so determined. It was absolutely terrifying to see the two duel, both trying to kill the other.

Bodies littered the ground. You had backed onto the wall next to Hermione, watching the fight between Molly and Bellatrix. Remus stumbled over to you, panting, but not appearing injured. You both cast a Shield over as many students as you could, wanting to protect them.

After doing as much as you could, you turned back to the two duels going on.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" Bellatrix taunted. She was sneering while sending out curses and avoiding Mrs. Weasley's spells. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

You knew that did it for Molly. That had poked the fire even more. She screamed back, "You-will-never-touch-our-children-again!"

Bellatrix laughed maniacally. She lost focus for one second and Mrs. Weasley used that second to send the killing curse at her. She was hit right over the heart. Her smile faltered and she collapsed to the ground. You let out a shaky breath as Voldemort shrieked.

In a sudden movement, his three challengers were sent flying. He pointed his wand at Molly but not before someone shouted "Protego!"

You looked around for the source of the yell and so did everyone else. A few yards away was Harry. Harry was alive. You gasped, shocked and shaken.

Harry and Voldemort circled each other. "I don't want anyone to try to help. It has to be me. It's got to be like this," Harry spoke and everyone heard him.

"Potter doesn't mean that. He doesn't do that. Who will you use now Potter?" Voldemort hissed.

"Nobody." You don't have Horcruxes left. It's just you and me. Only one of us can survive. One of us will walk out of this."

"Horcruxes?" Remus breathed. Something seemed to click within Remus as he nodded to himself.

"One of us? And you think it will be you? You survived by accident and because of Dumbledore."

"It was an accident when my mother died to save me then? Accident when I fought you in the graveyard? Accident that I didn't defend myself tonight and still survived? I'm still fighting," Harry stated.

"YES! ACCIDENTS!" Voldemort screamed. Nobody moved. Everyone stayed against the wall and watched the scene happening in the middle of the Great Hall. "Nothing but accident and chance that you were able to weasel away and hide behind others that were much greater than you."

"You won't be killing anyone else. You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you understand? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people-"

"But you didn't!"

"-I meant to and I did precisely that. I did as my mother did. They're all protected from you. Did you notice none of your spells are binding? You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle."

Harry taunted Voldemort, saying he knew things that Voldemort did not. He told Voldemort about things you didn't know of. That Dumbledore had planned for Snape to kill him months ago. That Snape loved Harry's mother and had been on Dumbledore's side all along. That shocked you. Dumbledore always insisted that Snape was on his side but you didn't believe it and neither did Harry. If Snape loved Harry's mom and Voldemort killed her then of course he would turn.

Voldemort didn't seem convinced. "Dumbledore tried to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended for Snape to be the true master of the wand! But I reached the wand before you! I killed Severus Snape three hours ago and now the Elder Wand is mine! Dumbledore's plan went wrong, Potter!"

"Yeah it did. You're right. But before you try to kill me, think about what you've done. Try to have some remorse, Riddle."

"What is this?" Voldemort seemed taken aback by that. It had set him off and shocked him.

"It's one last chance. It's all you've got left. I've seen what you'll be otherwise. Be a man. And try... try for some remorse."

Harry continued to explain to Voldemort. He told Voldemort that the wand wasn't his. It wasn't Snape's either. It belonged to Draco Malfoy. But that wasn't all. Harry had overpowered and taken Draco's wand while all of you were at Malfoy Manor. That meant that Harry was the master of the Elder Wand. All these new revelations shocked everyone in the room. So much information had been found in the past few months and it had all come down to this. Harry and Dumbledore had outsmarted Voldemort.

It had been hours since you arrived at Hogsmeade and the sun was coming up. Red-orange light poured into the room.

There were two yells, one saying "Avada Kedavra!"

The other shouting "Expelliarmus!"

There was a bang where the two spells collided and the Elder Wand flew from Voldemort's hand. Harry caught the wand. At the same time, Voldemort fell to the ground.

Taglist: @bellamy1998 @sxsalvatore @ottjord @lina1945

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

- Chapter 7 -

Meng Yao ended up not writing back to Lan Xichen at all, which turned out to be for the best – Madame Lan died of her illness a little later in the year, destroying Lan Xichen’s tentative proposals for a visit that they would have had to find a way to tactfully refuse anyway, and Meng Yao was able to write that letter with a great deal more sincerity and shared pain than he might have otherwise.

Lao Nie did not last the full year that Nie Mingjue had predicted they’d need – the initial qi deviation only led to more deviations down the road, as his unchecked rage twisted his mind further and further away from reality and he tried to cultivate with a saber that no longer existed; within four months he was no longer recognizable as the man he had once been, and within six he was dead.

It was not a good death.

Meng Yao had started hoping for Lao Nie to die by midway the second month, when it was clear that his condition was getting worse, not better, and that his madness was just a hair short of what it needed to be to remove him as unsuited for his position – he could stand, walk, talk, and make decisions (bad ones), and Meng Yao sometimes cursed whichever ancestor had schemed unsuccessfully to steal the sect leader’s seat through trickery because they’d made it so much harder for everyone else – but he hadn’t wanted it to happen the way it had.

For all that he was glad that Lao Nie was finally gone, six months after he’d actually died alongside his beloved Jiwei, Meng Yao would never have wanted Nie Mingjue to have to…no, better to say that he wouldn’t have wanted for Lao Nie to use his son as an instrument of his own destruction.

Nie Mingjue had been bearing up as well as could be imagined – better, even, through sheer will and the grit and stubbornness that the Nie clan had in spades – but that had been a step too far; he withdrew somewhere deep inside of himself, his eyes vacant and dead, and slept for three days straight. For a little while, Meng Yao had thought that he had also succumbed to a qi deviation, panic roiling under his skin as he had to try to keep it quiet, with Nie Huaisang helping as much as a small child like him could, but in the end Nie Mingjue woke up in time for the investiture ceremony making him sect leader.

They probably should have found some time to talk about it – talk about everything, to lance the boil of their suffering so that it didn’t fester in their hearts – except before Meng Yao could figure out what needed to be said, they were both pulled away by sudden spate of the skirmishes on the border because of course Wen Ruohan would use the opportunity of the sect leader’s death to try to steal away some of their territory.

They didn’t let him.

Nie Mingjue’s rage was something worth seeing, and Meng Yao’s own was very nearly as great, even if he expressed it through coldness rather than heat – even if he was considered too young to be sent out to the front lines, since unlike Nie Mingjue he was not pretending to be three years older than he really was, even if he could only help govern the sect at home in Nie Mingjue’s absence.

It was that coldness that let him cut through the politics that always followed the initiation of a new sect leader, especially a new one that foolish people from the outside might think would be susceptible to influence, might be naïve enough to allow himself to be used as a method for climbing into power.

It was that coldness that his mother saw, when she came to him with her own suggestions – the would-be influencers soon found that Nie Mingjue was born to be a righteous general, unyielding and stubborn, and that Meng Yao was coldblooded as a serpent, unmoved by their appeals, and so had come to Meng Shi with flattery and the promise of all sorts of things if only she would pass along a simple harmless message for them – and which made her words freeze in her throat long enough for Sisi to catch up with her and take her away, scolding her all the while for being too easily swayed.

It was that coldness that allowed him to continue to exchange secret letters with Wen Ruohan, stupid ones that claimed that his elder brother had gone mad to accuse another sect leader the way he had – treasonous letters, of the sort that Wen Ruohan would be able to use as blackmail if only Meng Yao wasn’t quite so sure that Nie Mingjue would listen when he explained why he was doing what he did.

If he explained. It didn’t seem necessary to burden Nie Mingjue with the knowledge of what Meng Yao was doing, not yet – not when he was already bearing so many other burdens.

Nie Huaisang had previously been uninterested in all things military, thinking of it as nothing more than more of the saber work that he hated, but Meng Yao knew that couldn’t be permitted to last, now that he was the proper heir, and so he took him in hand.

He took him to the meeting room, with all the maps and plans, and told it to him the way it needed to be told: “This stone represents twenty Wen retainers, and they’re all dead now,” he said, pointing to one of the silver pieces. “And that one’s ten Wen disciples, and they’re dead too – your brother killed them all by himself, taking them by surprise. They were all cut up into pieces, and he didn’t get a mark on him.”

“Why are you talking about the dead?” Nie Mingjue – who had in fact gotten several nasty cuts as a result of that fight, but facts weren’t relevant when weaving legends were for small children to learn viciousness from – asked, back from the frontline to gather supplies and set to go out again the next morning, rolling his eyes at them both. “It’s the living that matter.”

“I agree,” Meng Yao said placidly. “It’s the living we have to deal with. Mark da-ge’s words well, Huaisang. You always have to deal with the living, they’re far more troublesome.”

But oh, how nice it was to see your enemies dead!

(Nie Mingjue didn’t understand – but Nie Huaisang did.)

It took three solid months to finally chase out the last would-be incursion, and right around that time Lan Xichen finally got his way about coming for a visit the way he’d been insisted he be allowed to do for the entire time since Lao Nie’s death and Nie Mingjue’s confirmation as sect leader was announced.

“I don’t have time for guests,” Nie Mingjue said shortly when he found out that Meng Yao had approved Lan Xichen’s request behind his back. “Meng Yao, you deal with him; he’s here to see you, anyway.”

“Da-ge says that he needs to be kidnapped away from work,” Nie Huaisang solemnly told Lan Xichen, his beloved pretty gege, later that day, walking hand-in-hand with him through the gardens. “Or else he’ll never get a break.”

“Oh, your da-ge said that, did he,” Lan Xichen said, his eyes dancing. “Not your er-ge?”

“Well…”

“Huaisang, we’ve discussed this,” Meng Yao told him. “A good liar doesn’t back down at the first challenge. Don’t admit anything until you’re really cornered – or have a good excuse for why you lied.”

Lan Xichen laughed, but Nie Huaisang nodded seriously.

Meng Yao was pleased to see Lan Xichen, of course, but he had had ulterior motives: he had thought of a handful of schemes to use Lan Xichen to lure Nie Mingjue out of the sect leader’s office. It wasn’t a good place for him to be after everything that happened there – there were still bloodstains on the floor, ones that Meng Yao had caught Nie Mingjue staring dully at more often than he’d really like – and even though Meng Yao had already set up an alternative to use while they finished cleaning and redecorating, Nie Mingjue continuously claimed to be too busy to relocate even temporarily.

In the end, all his schemes turned out to be unnecessary because by the time they got back Nie Mingjue was out in the training yard for the first time in weeks, showing a solemn Lan Wangji how to jump over a saber sweep to the legs in what was mostly just an elaborate game of bunny-hops.

Lan Xichen abruptly sat down.

Right in the middle of the walkway, with dust getting all over his otherwise pristine robes, no less. Meng Yao sent Nie Huaisang back inside before squatting down next to him. “First time in a while?”

“Wangji wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat; he’s barely moved since our mother died,” Lan Xichen said, staring at the training field. His eyes were wet. “He’d obey if we told him to do something, but he kept sneaking out of the house to go wait by our mother’s door, no matter how many times we told him…I only brought him with me because I thought it might do him good to be somewhere new, rather than somewhere where he couldn’t help but think of her.”

Meng Yao thought about the sect leader’s office, which if Nie Huaisang was doing his job was at that very moment being moved to its new temporary home and the old one locked to all who might try to come and insist on being let in. Even if they were the new sect leader.

“I know what you mean,” he said, and smiled wryly. “But da-ge has a way about him, doesn’t he?”

By this Meng Yao meant that Nie Mingjue had charisma in spades – he was a natural leader, causing men to instinctively listen to him despite his age, though anyway that ridiculous height of his meant that he was already as tall as a grown man and was often perceived as one even by those who knew better. No matter how soft he was inside, how torn or broken, Nie Mingjue could inspire devotion, even fascination, from others in a way few others could.

Even Meng Yao with his silver tongue couldn’t compare: he knew how to cater to people, to calm and misdirect them, to lull them into a false sense of security so that he could sneak his objectives out of them, but Nie Mingjue could ask a man to fly to the moon and they’d seriously consider giving it a try.

He was something very precious.

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, and he sounded almost as if he were realizing that fact for the first time. “He really does.”

A month later, Nie Mingjue had to attend his first Discussion Conference as sect leader.

At least it was situated at the nice neutral Jiang sect, Meng Yao thought, but he worried the entire time Nie Mingjue was gone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed to go, if he wanted, but Meng Yao knew that having him back home – safe, keeping an eye on the Unclean Realm and Nie Huaisang both – would be infinitely more helpful in keeping Nie Mingjue from stabbing someone than his advice would be.

It still killed him to do it.

To think of Nie Mingjue alone, just him and his father’s murderer and three men that didn’t care to trouble themselves enough to help him get vengeance, for hours and hours and hours –

But Meng Yao knew what he had to do.

So he waited and paced and worked himself hard enough that Nie Huaisang started using some of their well-established tricks to lure Nie Mingjue from his office on him, which was really a sign of doing too much, and in the end the Nie sect delegation came home safe and unharmed and even successful: Nie Mingjue hadn’t stabbed anyone (the low, low bar they’d set for a success), hadn’t started any fights either physical or verbal (an even higher bar), and had even managed to get the reasonable concessions they’d been hoping to push through in the negotiations regarding sect matters after all the speeches and festivities were done (a stunning achievement).

Nie Mingjue didn’t seem as happy about it as Meng Yao would have expected.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said when Nie Huaisang was safely tucked away into bed; he must have been waiting. “A word.”

“Of course,” Meng Yao said, but still led him back to his bedroom to prepare to sleep. They could talk business as well there as they could in Nie Mingjue’s office, and this way he wouldn’t be tempted to do just a little bit more, A-Yao, just the urgent things as if there weren’t enough urgent things to drown a man in. “What happened, da-ge?”

“I received an unusual offer,” Nie Mingjue said, and the way he said it meant that Meng Yao wasn’t going to like it. “From Wen Ruohan.”

Meng Yao already didn’t like it.

“He – expressed sympathy,” oh, no, Meng Yao hated it, “and suggested that he might be willing to withdraw his claim from the western river so that we could rely on its tolls in our time of need –”

“He’s willing to withdraw his soldiers?” Meng Yao asked, honestly surprised. “His made-up claim to the river is the only thing allowing him to claim that he’s entitled to put Wen sect retainers in the sects there; if he withdraws them, they’ll all come rushing back to us to swear allegiance, and our western border would be much more secure, even if he reneges on his word later and tries to come back.”

And that, of course, meant –

“For him to put that on the trading table, he must have had an extremely offensive request,” Meng Yao said. “What was it? Half our men put down their sabers and Nie Huaisang’s head on a pike for having defeated Wen Chao in the junior calligraphy competition last year?”

That should have gotten a laugh out of Nie Mingjue, but instead he just sat down on the bed, his shoulders hunched up by his ears. “No,” he said. “He didn’t want anything from – from the sect.”

Meng Yao wasn’t stupid, and for a moment there his vision tinted red, Chiwen whispering sweet words of death in his ear: death to evil, death to those that threatened his loved ones, death to those that stood in his way.

Death to Wen Ruohan in specific.

“Da-ge,” he said, and for a moment his teeth gritted together before instinct took over and his face smoothed into a neutral expression, a faint gentle smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You must be joking.”

Nie Mingjue’s shoulders somehow, impossibly, hunched even further up, as if he was the one who should be embarrassed by Wen Ruohan’s suggestion. “He propositioned me,” he confirmed, entirely unnecessarily.

“He tried to buy you, you mean,” Meng Yao said, and Nie Mingjue shrugged. Meng Yao’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not considering it, are you?”

“You said yourself it was a good deal,” Nie Mingjue said with a hint of stubbornness. “A shichen of discomfort and we could protect the western border for a generation, and if we can do that, we’ll have time to bulk up the rest of our defenses –”

“You cannot be serious. He killed your father!”

Nie Mingjue flinched.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But that’s my personal pain, not the sect’s, and I’m sect leader now, aren’t I? I need to do what’s good for the sect.”

“Okay,” Meng Yao said. “Fine. Then I’ll assassinate Jiang Fengmian’s son at the next Discussion Conference.”

“What?”

“I’ll use a sword,” Meng Yao said. “You know how good I am at memorizing techniques; I’ve already gotten some moves from the Wen and Jin sects down pat, and no one will suspect a Nie if I’m not using a saber. In the chaos as they try to figure out who did it and what to do about it, we’ll be able to steal all sorts of benefits from the three of them. It’d be very good for the sect.”

“Meng Yao, don’t even joke about that.”

“Who said I’m joking?” Meng Yao said with a shrug. “You said it yourself – you’re a sect leader now. Why should your personal principles stand in the way of the sect’s advantage?”

“Without principles, there is no sect,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “Without principles, we may as well not be men; we would be beasts on two legs, a desecration of flesh, a waste of spirit…”

Meng Yao crossed his arms and waited.

“…and selling anybody, even myself, in order to take advantage Wen Ruohan’s offer would be a violation of my principles, too,” Nie Mingjue concluded. “I take your point.”

“Good.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“Still,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully, and Meng Yao turned to stare at him incredulously, “it’s kind of nice to know that I’d be really well paid for it, right? Your mother would be proud of me.”

“I’m going to strangle you,” Meng Yao said, but he was already starting to smile. Only Nie Mingjue would dare to be that tactless just to amuse – only Nie Mingjue would dream of making a joke about himself like that, with the same black humor Meng Yao and Meng Shi enjoyed most. “And you’re going to deserve it.”

“Probably,” Nie Mingjue agreed, and he was smiling back, and for a moment it felt like they weren’t sect leader and advisor any longer – just brothers, just friends.

“Yeah? I’m also going to tickle you.”

“Don’t you dare, I have a reputation to maintain –”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #lan xichen #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #three gates

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esmeraldablazingsky · 4 years

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I’ve finally hit my limit on the number of bad takes on the Lan parents I can see before I have to lay out all the reasons I disagree, so hello, I’m Blazie, and in this essay I will justify my visceral dislike of the assumption that Qingheng-jun married/imprisoned/had sex with Lan-furen against her will.

Warning for mentions of rape (in context of Interpretations I Really Hate) and a very, VERY long post below the cut.

Before I start going off about the finer points of all this, I want to make sure people are on the same page regarding what we actually know about what went down with Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen. What I say is based off the EXR translation of MDZS, for the sake of clarity, and although I don’t think the exact wording should be too important, feel free to let me know if you think I’ve missed an important bit of nuance or something (the whole story is in Chapter 64.)

The story we get is told by Lan Xichen, and it goes like this: a young Qingheng-jun falls in love at first sight with Lan-furen, who doesn’t return his feelings, and at some point kills one of Qingheng-jun’s teachers over unspecified “grievances.” Although he’s understandably very upset over the murder, Qingheng-jun sneaks Lan-furen back to Cloud Recesses and officially marries her in order to announce to his clan that anyone who wants to hurt her has to go through him.

After that, he locks Lan-furen in one house and himself in another as a form of repentance. Wei Wuxian speculates that this was because “he could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.”

A central detail of this story that I think people don’t give the import it deserves is that aside from marrying and protecting her, Qingheng-jun’s other option was to let Lan-furen be executed by his clan. His purpose in marrying her wasn’t just for kicks/out of a possessive sort of love, it was so she wouldn’t straight up die. How she felt about this arrangement isn’t stated, but I’ll get into that in a bit. In addition to that, Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen live separately, which was apparently purposeful on Qingheng-jun’s part, and runs counter to the interpretation that he intended to take sexual advantage of Lan-furen.

Though there aren’t many concrete details in Lan Xichen’s retelling, he does specifically inform Wei Wuxian that his mother never complained about remaining in her house. What exactly this signifies is unclear— whether she was simply putting on a brave face for her sons, or whether she was in fact at all content with the situation— but it at the very least serves to further muddy the waters on how she and Qingheng-jun felt about all this.

Beyond what Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian are saying out loud, there’s also quite a bit of subtext in this scene, especially in light of later events and revelations, like Lan Xichen’s confession for Lan Wangji at Guanyin Temple.

So what is Lan Xichen trying to convey with all this? There’s a lot of memes about this scene, most of which err too far on the side of Himbo Airhead Lan Xichen for my liking, but one that I do find amusing emphasizes how Lan Xichen draws parallels between Wangxian and the story of his parents (Lan Xichen: [flute solo] please use your one brain cell to connect the dots.) If Wei Wuxian hadn’t completely lost his memory of Lan Wangji defending him against his own clan elders, one would assume that Lan Xichen’s story would have had a much better chance of hitting home.

In hindsight and side by side, the parallels are much clearer— Qingheng-jun, “ignoring the objections from his clan… told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.” Similarly, according to Lan Xichen in Chapter 99, “for [Wei Wuxian,] not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the GusuLan Sect. He heavily injured all thirty-three of the seniors we asked to come.”

In that context, it makes a lot less sense to interpret Qingheng-jun as an aggressor towards Lan-furen, as in Lan Wangji’s case, the narrative clearly establishes that his actions are to secure Wei Wuxian’s safety. The action of Taking Someone Back To Cloud Recesses is— okay, actually, it’s a little more nuanced than I took into account when I started writing that sentence, so let me go a little deeper into Lan Wangji’s actions and how they relate to his father’s, story-wise.

My intent is not to dive into the terrifying underworld of novel-versus-drama discourse, but simply put, Novel!Lan Wangji as he is written isn’t exactly the poster child for clear consent. (I’m going to entirely leave off the extra chapters for the sake of everyone’s sanity, so I’m just talking about the main body of the novel here.)

He means well, and I’m sure we can agree that he does actually love and want the best for Wei Wuxian, but his lack of communication on this point means that he accidentally gives Wei Wuxian the impression that he wants to imprison and/or punish him in Cloud Recesses at least twice off the top of my head (pre-timeskip, as we know, and post-timeskip immediately after Dafan Mountain when he actually drags Wei Wuxian back to his room.)

That all likely has something to do with MXTX’s narrative kinks and regular kinks and all that, and can absolutely be taken with many grains of salt. However, these events establish how easy it is to misinterpret the action of Taking Someone Back To Gusu as an attempt to imprison rather than protect them (much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin.)

Failing to communicate his purpose to Wei Wuxian doesn’t mean that Lan Wangji actually had any intent of hurting or caging him— that was just a misinterpretation on Wei Wuxian’s part, and we, as the audience, find that out in due time— but as written in the novel, it can be really uncomfortable to read. Because of that, many people choose to accept CQL canon regarding Lan Wangji’s more possessive actions or mix characterization from different adaptations, which, to be clear, I completely understand and respect.

However, Qingheng-jun doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt as often, which I frankly find baffling, because nowhere in the text does it state that Lan-furen objected to being taken back to Cloud Recesses, while even Wei Wuxian clearly objected the first few times. In fact, while we’re on this note, I’ll take it a step farther— I find it baffling that people seem to default to an unsympathetic view of Qingheng-jun, because nowhere in the text does it state that he overruled Lan-furen’s wishes in any way. The text doesn’t clarify a lot of things, actually, and that is part of the point.

The narrators of MDZS are, in many situations, highly unreliable. This is, presumably, very purposeful! MDZS can easily be read as a sharp criticism of reputation and mass judgment and the concept of condemning people without knowing their motives! And I don’t want to sound mean, but guys… did any of us learn anything from that? Here, I’m going to put it in meme format for a second to convey what I mean.

MDZS: It’s easy to condemn someone as a villain if you don’t know their story or the reasons behind their actions

MDZS: Anyway, here’s a character whose story and reasons behind his actions you know nothing about

Some Parts Of This Fandom: Ah, a villain

Memes aside, here’s what I want to point out. It’s entirely possible to assume Qingheng-jun was a bad person who disregarded a woman’s wishes in marrying and confining her when all you have is Lan Xichen’s (actually very neutral, thank you Lan Xichen for being an eminently reasonable and concerned-with-evidence character) account of what happened. It would also be at least that easy to assume Wei Wuxian was just an evil necromancer if he hadn’t un-died and brought his own story to light, or even to believe that Lan Wangji had somehow tamed Wei Wuxian into submission and being a respectable cultivator if you were an average citizen of Fantasy Ancient China with nothing but rumors to operate on.

The thing about Qingheng-jun and Lan-furen’s story, then, is that there is nobody left alive who knows the full tale. Nobody knows what they thought about anything, really. Nobody even knows why Lan-furen killed Qingheng-jun’s teacher. Wei Wuxian asks why, and Lan Xichen can’t tell him, but I think the best answer would be something along the lines of I don’t know, Wei Wuxian, why did you kill people? Your guess on the motivations of your own thinly disguised narrative parallel are as good as anyone’s.

So, while it’s not technically impossible to assign darker motives to Qingheng-jun, the cautionary tale of MDZS seems to warn against that exact assumption.

I’ve refrained from getting too salty on a personal level thus far, but now that I’ve said a lot of the more logical and story-based points of my argument, I will say that at least some of my annoyance with the interpretation of Qingheng-jun as a possessive rapist and Lan-furen as his victim stems from the fact that I just think it’s straight up boring. Where’s the nuance? Aren’t you tired of reducing these characters to the flattest possible versions of themselves? Don’t you just want to add a little flavor?

In a slightly more serious phrasing of that criticism, I find that making Lan-furen a helpless prisoner strips her of whatever agency she might otherwise have. To be fair, she’s more or less a non-character in keeping with the general state of the MDZS universe, but making her a damsel in distress only consigns her more deeply to hapless, milquetoast innocence.

It’s perfectly valid to enjoy ladies who have done nothing wrong, ever, in their lives, but like… Qin Su is right there, if that’s your ball game. There’s also really no need to make Qingheng-jun someone who doesn’t respect women. Isn’t Jin Guangshan enough for at least one universe?

Anyway, ultimately, you do you. I don’t like arguing on the internet, and will just ignore things I don’t agree with (or write an 1800 word vaguepost) like a mature human being. I’m just saying, if it’s a cut and dry tale of imprisonment and assault you’re looking for… you probably don’t want to turn to a woman who committed a murder and a man who loved her enough to forfeit everything to keep her safe.

#mdzs #qingheng jun #madam lan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #(in a narrative parallels context)#blazie .txt #anyway without further ado here is my.... essay?#rape mention

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auty-ren · 4 years

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The Offer: Chapter 2

Touches

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x fem. Reader

Rating: T (Mature for future chapters)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Injury, Touching, Insinuations of sex, Cursing (just a tiny bit), Fluff, Yearning (a lot).

A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this. Please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback appreciated always. It’s also on AO3. Hope y’all enjoy💕

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Mandalorian lore via mandoa.org (I dont own it)

ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing

Gif by @coredrive

Summary: You finally get to speak to Clan Leader Djarin again.

Your nose was definitely broken.

The elder assessed that much on her initial exam of your face.

The bile in your stomach churned and nausea flooded your senses at the thought of having to reset the broken cartilage. You knew they would have to realign your nose otherwise it would never grow back properly. However, your stubbornness took hold and you wouldn’t let the elder anywhere near your face. You knew the pain that was eventually going to happen, but you dreaded the process. You wanted to postpone it for as long as you could. You tried to rationalize other options, internally debating and trying to come up with excuses for Mira and the Elder. Maybe if it was left alone, your nose would heal just fine; it seemed like a probable outcome you just hoped Mira would see it that way and leave you be.

Mira, of course, had different plans.

It took Mira straddling you, completely immobile due to her weight pressing into your chest, and the strength she held your arms with for the Elder woman to be able to fix your nose from its dislocated position. When she finally did, you're sure your scream reverberated off the walls.

“We underestimated your strength ad’ika.” The woman joked after giving a final dose of a bacta shot. Your eyes were still watering and you just huffed in response, causing Mira to chuckle from across the room.

Mira’s company started to grow on you, even though at first your time together was filled with silence. She often busied herself around the hut; shining her armor, cleaning her assortment of weapons, tinkering with different pieces of mechanics that littered the shelves. You would offer to help and she accepted, reluctantly at first, but you were starting to think she enjoyed your company as much as you did hers.

Most of the conversation was you asking questions about Mira and her people. You had some knowledge of the ways of a Mandalorian but Mira always explained it better. She always answered you with a sense of patience, explaining everything to you in detail you could understand. You appreciated it, the last thing you would want to do is offend her people with ignorance. She seemed to enjoy your enthusiasm for learning about Mandalorian culture.

“Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando' a bal Mand'alor, An vencuyan mhi.”

“What?”

“It is a rhyme taught to children, so they can better understand our way of life.” She put down the tool she was cleaning her armor with, handing you the piece to polish. Before you could even ask, she recited the same phrase to you in basic.

“Education and armor, Self-defense, our tribe, Our language, and our leader, All help us survive.”

Days bled into weeks and you started to lose count of how long you had been with Mira. Your injuries had healed fully thanks to Mira and the elder that visited you. Light remains of your still healing bruises were all the evidence of the encounter. As you felt better, Mira invited you to accompany her into the village. It had almost become pleasant, the little routine you two had. The fresh air always felt nice, and Mira filled the time telling you more stories of her clan.

“That man,” you paused, debating whether or not you should even bring up the topic. “The one who I met when we first arrived, who was he?”

Ever since then you found yourself wondering about him more than you liked to admit. He and Mira had been the first people to treat you with kindness in a long time, so you figured the reaction to him was just grateful. Your curious nature made it almost impossible to not want to know more. You had learned much about Mira the last few weeks, and the persistent thoughts of him would certainly cease at knowing more of him. At least that's what you told yourself, but it was hard to forget that blooming you felt in your chest when he first spoke to you. How the deep timbre of his voice felt like honey that settled in your bones. You caught yourself daydreaming how his voice would sound without the mask of his voice coder, just as rich and deep but something new and soft against your ears. It probably felt heavenly to hear him whisper things to you, his breath gentle in your ear.

Mira turned to you and watched as you waited for an answer. It was as if Mira could read your thoughts from the way her head tilted to look at you. You were thankful she didn't pry, that was a conversation you didn't want to have.

“He is the strongest and conscientious of us all, which is why the High Elders chose him to lead and defend our clan. Each of the pendants he wears is a testament to his fortitude.”

You listened intently, hanging on to every word Mira spoke.

“They say he received his signent by hunting a Mudhorn that terrorized the village and killing the beast with a viro-blade as his only weapon.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, your voice just a whisper in the silence left behind her words. As much as you will yourself to be satisfied with this information, it only seemed to stoke the fire that had been set ablaze by him. You wanted to know so much more, the desire to be around him was something you tried hard to ignore.

—

Much to Mira’s protest you mostly stayed to yourself, already feeling so out of place. Aside from her, the elder, and the brief encounter with the clan leader Djarin you hadn’t spoken to anyone else since being here. She tried all she could to get you to attend their weekly dinner, a celebration every clan member attended, she insisted. You eventually caved to her persistence. So you sat with her at one of the long wooden tables, chipping away at the plate full of food in front of you. Every so often you stopped to pull at a loose thread in your sleeve, somehow hoping the action would ease the anxiousness you felt.

The clan had given you new clothes shortly after settling with Mira. She presented the garments to you one night, explaining that the leaders agreed you would feel more comfortable in them. A simple, deep red, long sleeve tunic, and a long brown skirt that flowed around the movement of your legs. It was similar to the attire you’d seen some of the women in the village wearing. It felt unusual at first, you were so used to wearing the same few articles, almost threadbare in places from the years of consistent wear. These clothes seemed almost new, soft to the touch, and fit your body perfectly. The gesture nearly brought tears to your eyes, no one had given you such a thoughtful gift since you were a child.

It was so refreshing to see that not all the hope had been purged from the galaxy. Mira's people were just as legend had described them, fierce warriors with integrity and strength that rivaled entire battalions of soldiers; but there was also love and kinship that was deeply rooted in pillars of their society. It seemed almost surreal, this warrior race had taken you in; had healed and cared for you. It was something you had to witness first-hand, no amount of stories could convey the community the Mandalorians had, at least no one would believe you if you had tried.

You opted to observe the events of dinner, not wanting to cause any more trouble than you felt you had already. Mira had not lied when she said everyone would be there. The tables were filled with people laughing and enjoying the company of each other. It felt so peaceful, and the unsettling feeling in your stomach subsided as the dinner went on. The evening eventually started winding down when dusk had settled over the village. You thought it would be rude to leave without Mira, so you waited patiently on the sidelines wanting to return to the hut.

“How are you feeling?”

Din leaned his shoulder against the wall behind you, his arms crossed and his head tilted to the side. You jumped, you hadn't even heard him coming towards you. He seemed amused at your reaction, letting out a huff that slightly jolted his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” You felt that same pull start in your chest. “Mira has taken very good care of me.”

“Good.”

He became silent, watching the clan mingle like you were. This was exactly what you had been hoping for, to be alone, to be able to talk with him, and ask all the things you had been pondering since your initial meeting. But now you felt so small, every word you had readied was lost on your tongue, swallowed by the intimidation you felt. He was the noblest warrior of his clan, strong and authoritative in his ways but he made your heart flutter in a way you didn't know could. It was suffocating, being around him but you craved it nonetheless.

He moved to sit next to you, straddling the bench you sat on. You could feel him looking at you, but you didn't dare tear your gaze from in front of you. You felt your face flush all the way to the tips of your ears. He hadn’t said five words to you and you were already a mess.

“I should find Mira,” you broke the tension, hoping to escape so you could finally breathe again. “It's late.”

Before you could distance yourself he spoke, halting you in your tracks.

“I can return you to your hut,” he paused pushing himself to stand. He considered you for a moment as if to debate his next words.

“If that's what you wish.”

—

“I haven’t seen you since your arrival.” It wasn't really a question, more of an observation. You turned to look at his helmet, still trained on the path in front of you.

“Mira forced me to break my isolation.”

A huffed laugh came through his helmet, effectively melting some of the tension that had built up. Your own smile stretched across your lips, he still made you incredibly nervous but he at least had a sense of humor.

You didn't exchange any more words, silence falling back over you both. It felt just a little different than before, the tension wasn't drawn so tight. A light airy feeling replaced the energy that flows between the two of you. You could feel your muscles relaxing just the slightest bit, the bubbling worry in your stomach replaced with a dull ache.

Your senses focused back on your surroundings, cool darkness had enveloped your path, lit only by the torches mounted against the huts. People still congregated in the street, groups exchanging wishes of sweet dreams as most of them prepared for sleep. As you passed, side by side with their leader, each person stopped to give a small bow. Some of their gazes lingered on you, not in a judgemental way, most of them just seemed curious in nature. It was probably odd, seeing some strange woman being escorted by the most respected man in their village. If he noticed their looks, he didn't make it known.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small flash of bright color, sticking out noticeably against the neutral tones of the earth. You stopped and tucked in between two of the homes lining your path home, was a small flower bed. Some of the buds had yet to bloom, the new petals poking through the green shell that encased them. Others were full and brilliant, ranging from every color under the sun. You kneeled down to gently caress the buds in the palm of your hand.

Din didn’t realize you had stopped at first. He noticed the absence of your footsteps and turned around, watching you admire the flowers. He walked closer to you, essentially blanketing you in his shadow. Like before, you failed to notice his presence behind you.

“Sorry,” you apologized once you realized he was waiting for you. Standing up and brushing the dirt from your knees. You awkwardly clasped your hands together in front of you, waiting for him to respond. He stood still, completely static and it felt like a standoff of who would move next. You thought of saying something, anything to get him to act again but before you could he cut you off.

“You like…” He seemed to carefully consider his next words, in some ways it almost seemed meek the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. “Flowers?”

You turned your head to glance at the bed behind you. Realizing now how odd you must've looked, stopping to smell flowers like some child. You looked forward and he had yet to move still staring directly at you, at least that's what you assumed it was hard to tell with his visor.

“Yes, um…” Your mouth felt dry and tightened around your words. You know he didn't ask for an explanation but you gave one nonetheless, trying to ease your embarrassment.

“My mother used to have flowers on my home planet,” You turned your face down to your hands, rubbing your thumb at the juncture of two of your fingers. “I haven't seen any since the day I left...”

It had been a long time since you had thought of your old life. Ever since the war it had become painful to even entertain the good memories. Your parents had become ghosts of what they once were. Their faces were just flashes in your mind, reduced to the few reminders that stuck with you. The smells of cedar and earth reminded you of your father, his clothes always permeated with the smell of the outdoors. Sometimes you could recall how kind his eyes were, seeing a glimpse of them in your dreams. You remembered your mother’s flowers, how they grew during the warm season filling beds of green with vivid, swirling color.

“I didn’t realize they still grew.” You tried your best to keep the emotions these memories held from finding your face, but Din sensed them nonetheless. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing for you to follow him again.

—

“Thank you, for walking with me,” you said turning to him with a small smile on your face as the hut came into your view.

“Of course.” He stopped just a few feet away from you, turning to mimic your position.

“Goodnight,” you said, turning and walking up the few steps of the porch to Mira’s home.

“You never told me your name,” he said, causing you to stop just in front of the door, you turned back to face him.

You told him, giving a slight smile at the end of your words. He parroted your name, climbing up the stairs becoming level with you again. He moved closer to your body, leaving just a few inches between your chests. You looked up into his visor, your reflection more noticeable with the close proximity of your bodies.

He repeated your name, his hands going for one of the necklaces resting against his chest. He lifted it away from him, bringing the necklace around your neck, the cool metal of the pendant resting just above your breasts. You looked between him and the mythosaur skull, the same one you saw plastered on nearly everything in the village. You wanted to say something, your mouth opening, and closing while trying to focus long enough to string a few words together.

“You’re so beautiful.” He leaned his arm against the door behind you, pinning you between him and the wood of Mira’s hut. His other hand came up to trace along the length of your neck, his knuckles stopping when they reached your chin.

You felt like you were on fire, your blood running white-hot under your skin, leaving a blushed tint in its wake. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid you’d melt under his gaze that seemed to bore straight through you. You kept your eyes fixated on the expansion of chest level with your eyes.

“Have you thought about staying?” His fingers gripped your chin, bringing you to look directly at his visor.

“Stay?” You were a little taken back, your voice coming out as a squeak compared to his. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” He chuckled, his voice dropped mocking the whisper in your tone. A smile threatens the corners of your lips and you bite on the inside of your cheek to stop the spread. He thought it was entertaining, watching you become giddy under his attention. You turned to look just past his shoulder, willing the flush you felt on your face and neck to subside. You had wanted his attention and now you had it but you were failing miserably at being anything but at his mercy.

“Do you like it here?” He said sensing your hesitation, forcing you to focus on him again.

“Yes, of course.” It was true, you enjoyed your time. But to stay? What place did you have here? They had made you feel so welcome but you were an outsider and you had yet to offer any contribution to their way of life. You had felt better than you had in years. Like a familiar version of yourself had taken over again, replenishing the life you so desperately tried to find before. It felt invigorating but you knew it couldn't last forever, and with your injuries in the final stages of healing, you knew that time was coming to an end.

“Then stay.” His voice was firm but held a sort of gentleness that made your heart flip in your ribcage.

He grabbed your hand, leading your palm to rest in the middle of his chest. Your fingers instinctively spread over the warmth of his skin, he interlocked his fingers with yours, effectively trapping your hand behind his.

You couldn’t see his face, but it felt as if you were staring right into his soul. You imagined the depth and piercing look of his eyes. You imagined they were just like the rest of him, fierce and intriguing but with a softness hid behind them. Mesmerizing you and making you want nothing more than to fall deep in their hypnosis. You wanted to kiss him, to feel him against you, flesh and bone to be explored by your fingertips. You wanted to be encased totally by him, to drown in the warmth he exuded, to feel nothing but him for the rest of your days.

With a newfound boldness, you slipped your hand away from his slowly trailing down the center of his chest. The pads of your fingers moved over the toned muscle of his chest, doing exactly what you had daydreamed about since you met him. His skin was a beautiful tanned color with scars scattered, telling the story of his battles. You traced a few, fingers delicately moving across the raised skin. You felt his breath released from behind his helmet, so quiet you may have not noticed if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest. You continued your movements, traveling down until you met the trail of hair that peeked out from his trousers. He abruptly grabbed your wrist, a groan filtering through to your ears. His grip was firm, stopping your actions but being careful not to hurt you.

“You should get some rest.” His voice was so low, gravelly, barely registering with the voice coder of his helmet. He released his grip, moving your hand back to your side.

You were afraid you had fucked up, misreading him and crossing some forbidden line. Shame flooded your mind, causing your gaze to drift to your feet. He reached up to your face, pushing the hair that fell in your face back, revealing the timid look that fell on your features. He held his palm against your face for just a moment longer than necessary. As his hand fell from your face, you were back to staring into the darkness of his visor, surprised by the tenderness of his actions.

“Goodnight,” He whispered, turning back to walk down the steps, leaving you stunned and missing his warmth.

“Goodnight.”

—————

Taglist: @queenofheavenandhell @youmeanmybrain @theocatkov @dreamgirl-67 @duker42 @spxcedxdddy @vikingqueen28 @hdlynn @leo-moon @tiffdawg

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed!💕)

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maemi324 · 4 years

Text

Burned

Hello all you lovely people! Today I come to you bearing gifts!

the gift that is this fic, which is quite possibly the longest fanfic I’ve ever done. Period. I’ve written more for a personal story of mine, but this one…this just takes the cake.

14 pages, 6988 words. That may not sound like a lot, but for me it was a huge thing, and I’m actually pretty proud of it.

this was inspired by the song “Burn the Witch” by Shawn James, which I highly recommend listening to towards the end of this.

So this involves witches, as you might have guessed. I did do some research on this, referencing a few holidays. With that being said, this is not the fic to go to looking for accurate information about Pagan Holidays, their differences, similarities and all the right customs. This is all mixed in with some fictional things that I felt helped the story flow. If you want an accurate description of their holidays, practices, beliefs, please go do your own research, or ask someone that knows about them, as that person is not me.

With that out of the way! here are some mentions of some characters in here!

Aizawa, Present Mic, All Might, All for One, Shigaraki, LOV (vague description), Ochaco, Iida, Todoroki, mama Midoriya

Warnings: Character Deaths (kind of) vague descriptions of death, witch hunt, stakes, fire. OOC Shigaraki probably, and Izuku. If there are more warnings needed let me know. Only edited by me. May edit later. Right now i just wanna post this guy.

@katsukikitten, @what-the-censored-xd I hope you enjoy!

You were standing beside your mother, hanging onto her skirts as she placed a flower crown in your hair, your small hands reaching to gently feel their soft petals.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.

It was the brightest summer you could remember, the first thing you could remember actually.

You could see your father, as well as some of your parents’ friends, all gathering wood into this large pile to be lit that night. You felt a thrum of something run through your fingers as your hands fell back to your sides. Excitedly you tugged on your mother’s skirts.

She’d just placed a crown upon a friend’s head, looking down at you with that sweet smile that had you giggling.

“What has you so giggly darling?”

She bent down to your level, nearly falling over as you thrust your zinging hand in the general direction of her face. She carefully pushed your fingers back, a gasp at her lips as soft yellow hues glowed from your fingertips, your other hand still preoccupied with the soft flower petals.

“Well would you look at that! I knew you’d be getting it soon!” She pressed kisses all over your face, the last one landing on your forehead. Her attention was pulled from you as someone called out to her, a young woman, no older than your own mother, with hair so dark it was almost green, carrying someone who’s hair matched hers.

“Inko! You made it!” She hugged the woman- now named Inko- closely, only pulling back after a tight squeeze.

“Thank you for inviting us! Are you sure it’s alright that we’re here? These aren’t, well, really our traditions to do-”

“Nonsense! You’re family, you are just as welcome here now as any other part of the year. Now who is this young one?” You watched as she motioned to the, what you could now see was a young boy, who had the brightest green eyes you had ever seen, with a magic all their own.

“This is my son, Izuku, my pride and joy,” She nuzzled his cheek, pressing a kiss there. In an attempt to get him to smile she blew a raspberry on his cheek, which had him giggling, but his eyes remained trained on your mother. “He’s a little shy around strangers however”

“ That’s the same little one I saw last year? Goodness, he’s grown so much!”

“Oh I know! It seems like only yesterday I just had him!

You frowned, you wanted mama’s attention! It was like she’d forgotten you were there. You tugged on her skirts with a whine, hardly mollified when she only gave you her hand. You pressed it against your cheek.

“And this is the lady of the day?” Inko set down Izuku in favor of looking you over.

“Yes indeed, our little Birthday girl, (Y/N)” She smiled down at you letting go of your hand, “Why don’t you show Izuku how to make a flower crown, hm?”

At the idea of doing something fun your mood brightened immediately, offering your hand to him. He instead looked up at his mother, now adorned with her own flower crown, who gave him a light push towards you.

He nervously gave you his hand and you pulled him over to the circle of people braiding flowers together.

Somehow, that little moment blossomed into friendship. As the hours passed, he’d opened up, little by little, much like the flowers in your hand had when first blooming. He told you stories from his village, tales of a heroic man- a knight you would later remember- under the name of “All Might”.

As he talked, he paid close attention to how your hands moved as he made his crown. While it wasn’t perfect, he placed the small crown over the one your mother had given you, saying it wasn’t any good. You told him right then and there you were proud to wear it. You had yet to finish yours, so you asked him to continue his stories as you worked. It may have been all he talked about for the first hour since then, but you were keen to hear his tales, eyes sparkling with something wonderful as his freckled cheeks turned pink at the sound of your laughter.

He was also incredibly interested in your traditions. You were too young to have them all memorized by heart, but you did know that at every celebration, you, and others of your kind in the area, came to this specific clearing in the woods.

The area had been used for as long as any elder could remember, slowly built into a circle with a place for the fire in the center, steps built into the hill as makeshift seats, the grass around the area lush and green, the best to dance around the fire in. During this celebration in particular you adorned crowns of flowers and built the fire, dancing and offering praise to the gods. Hardly any from the village came to these celebrations, but they did not condemn your ways and kept to their own.

You danced and played the day away, the other children chasing after you in good fun. Giggles and loud shrieks filled the air, air soft and warm with the scent of the lavender fields so close by.

Of course, you were both so young then, by the time the stars were high in the sky, the both of you were out like lights, leaning against one another with a blanket draped over your laps. You only remember briefly waking as you were cuddled next to someone in your bed. You paid no mind as your father kissed your forehead, leaving you with a whisper of ‘goodnight’. You snuggled back into the person beside you, green hair tickling your nose as you slipped back into sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, breakfast lingering in the air. Your heart clenched sadly as you were alone. Had yesterday been a dream? Where had your new friend gone? You scrambled out of bed into the main room, Izuku sitting next to his mother, stuffing a sweet bread your father had made into his mouth, whilst Inko and your mother talked about the previous night.

Since then, Izuku and his mother had returned to every holiday, the Autumn equinox, Samhain, the Winter solstice, every single one. You would count down the days, a small piece of charcoal to mark on your wall until the day he arrived.

With every visit came more tales of knights and their battles, He’d even started writing them down, so that way no one would forget them and their deeds. You had joked that with a memory like his, he would never forget.

During the time in between visits, you learned how to help manage your father’s shop. He taught you which herbs and plants had medicinal properties, how to bring a potion to the right temperature and keep it there, hands glowing a soft blue.

Your mother taught you the other properties of magic, warding away evil and the right way to banish an evil that had long sunk its roots into it’s target, hands glowing a soft purple. You were all too happy to learn from them, how to help people with a kind hand and a soft smile.

But there were times your heart had wanted to be cruel, to be angry. When all you wanted to do was place something wicked on the boys that ran around your village and teased you. Especially when they had torn apart a necklace your mother had given you.

It wasn’t rare by any means, but your mother had given it to you and thus it was special.

You told your mother as such after hours of searching for the pendant, with little to no luck of even finding the chain. She had nearly dropped the jar of spices into the soup she had been making.

“Curses are not things to be taken lightly darling,” She sat you down at the table, your feet kicking in an irritated fashion, toes barely touching the floor. “They are dangerous, and not for the faint of heart. But most importantly, that is not what our magic is for” she tilted your pouting face up to hers, so she could look you in the eye, her other hand taking your smaller one into hers. “Our magic is to help and heal. Those of our magic who choose otherwise have…They have died, or worse even. So promise me you’ll never curse or hex anyone. Alright?”

“I promise mum,” you sighed, anger dissipating into a strange form of disappointment and forced contentment. She let go of your hand with a smile, a confused expression on your face as you opened your hand to find the necklace sitting on your palm as if it had been there for hours.

That promise only lasted a short time. The next time Izuku had visited, the boys began to pick on him as well, he was shorter and smaller than they were, a prime target. That was all easily ignorable, taking his hand and leading him off somewhere else. The last straw had been a kick to his dream.

“You’ll never be a real knight, no matter how hard you try! You’re too much of a mama’s boy, too weak!”

You could have sworn you’d seen red, though Izuku begged you not to do anything. It was only his asking that spared the boys a beating they would not come out of unscathed.

So instead, come nightfall, you had slipped from your bed, careful not to step on Izuku as you passed. You snuck into the shop, grabbing one of your father’s bowls and setting out into the forest. You picked at your ingredients with haste, mashing them together with water and a stone. You uttered the foulest curse your young mind could think of; giving the boys a taste of being so close but never there. An itch they couldn’t scratch, they would never be able to scratch, no matter how sharp their nails.

Pleased with your work, you washed out the now empty bowl. You ignored the sickly feeling in your stomach, setting the bowl back in its place. You closed the door as softly as you could, sneaking back into bed.

However, that morning you awoke to your skin feeling itchy, the sensation unrelenting no matter how hard your nails scratched. Your whimpers of panic woke Izuku, eyes wide with panic of his own, he dove out the door and ran for your mother.

That’s how you found yourself alone, with your mother, the offending bowl in question as well as one that had an ointment of some kind in it, your mother smearing it over your red skin.

“I hope you’ve learned something from this,” her voice held just the barest hint of amusement, though only just barely. “Poison ivy isn’t exactly a walk in the park” she finished with your arms and moved on to your back.

“If you weren’t careful however,” her voice turned hard, your body tensing at the shift in tone, “This could have turned out far worse. Far more dangerous. Magic isn’t a game, there are real consequences to your actions, just as there are in any other parts of life” You nodded your head solemnly, the back of your mind thanking just about everything for the relief the ointment brought.

Of course you had to learn the hard way the effects of going against your own nature.

You’d spent that Summer Solstice wrapped up with an ointment, dealing with Izuku’s annoying little smirk.

“I appreciate the thought (Y/N),” He whispered to you, the two of you sat a ways from the fire as you watched the others dance, “You wanted to defend me, but please, don’t go around cursing people, for my sake if not yours” he laughed, swatting your hand away from your own arm as you tried to itch it.

“Yeah, yeah, see if I ever do anything nice for you ever again” you groused, no heat behind your words. You were best friends, you’d do anything for him, just like he would you.

It was on your seventeenth birthday, a coming of age for a young witch, when you learned how far those feelings would go.

It was one hell of a birthday, you thought, sitting behind the wagon full of flowers that had yet to be formed into crowns, crying pitifully. The young girls of the village had teased you, your dress was so short compared to the usual style, even the sleeves! Your ankles were on full display and your feet were bare.

You hardly minded their comments, their concerns didn’t matter. It was your coming of age celebration as well as the Solstice. Everything was perfect, you’d even woken up early, gotten all your chores done and had enough time to have a relaxing bath beforehand. Their sense of fashion didn’t matter compared to your traditions. Not only that, but your mother had made the dress herself, it was soft and comfortable.

It was only when the other witches your age had decided that the color you wore wasn’t appropriate for the celebration, in these ‘modern’ times, far too dark and disrespectful. While they had etched a seed of self consciousness into your mind, you carried on, your mother had chosen this color specifically for you and the celebration at hand. The colors were fine! In your irritation, you stomped away hardly looking where you were going, falling face first and sliding into a patch of mud, probably leftover from yesterday’s rain.

You looked up from your predicament, one of the others dogs lifting up its leg to pee near you but not on you. At that angle it hardly mattered. The giggles from younger children were harsh enough, grating on your ears, whispers from some of the elders of this being a bad omen. But what was the worst of it all? The concern in Izuku’s eyes. He’d made a beeline towards you, but before he could reach you, you had sprinted off, just away from everyone.

You didn’t know why his eyes made it all the worse, that look never would have bothered you before, right?

The sun was starting to set, the wood was almost arranged perfectly to burn all night long.

You wiped your eyes, glaring down at the mud now on your hands.

“I thought I might find you here”

You jumped, heart launching itself into overdrive as you whirled around only to see Izuku.

“Oh! Izuku…you scared me” you placed a hand over your heart, as if it would slow to a normal pace if you did so. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the fire?” you asked, scooting over so he could sit next to you.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I let you be here by yourself?” he asked, his gaze patiently waiting to meet yours, as soon as you had the courage to.

“You seemed alright with me being here up until now” you muttered. A flash of hurt appeared in his eyes, you immediately regret your harsh tone.

“W-Well, I had wanted to let you cool down before I just got in your space-”

“No, that was unfair of me Izuku, I’m sorry. I just…everything was supposed to be perfect. Or realistically perfect. Falling flat on my face in mud wasn’t exactly a part of the plan” you wiped your hands off on what little remained of your dress. “Or being considered a possible bad omen”

“I know what that’s like, remember on my fifteenth birthday, when I was helping carry all those crates?” You had to hold back a snort, as you recalled the story.

Your father had arranged for you to meet a supplier of a rare type of herb, as well as a few crates of spices for one of the shopkeepers in the village. The poor man had fallen ill this year and had somehow convinced his supplier to meet him halfway instead of going to the nearest town.

Izuku had been visiting at the time and, of course, offered to help you. You had just gotten over the main hill, you could see the people of your village milling about. You turned to look over at Izuku, only to watch as he fell face first onto the ground, tripping over a root. The barrels of spices went rolling down the hill, him rolling after them.

The barrels landed with a crash against some boxes stacked near the well, Izuku was hardly so lucky as he had rolled right into the wells wall.

“You were so lucky that you came out of that with only a broken arm” you laughed softly, a huff of laughter escaping him as well.

“At least the spices were alright, I’d have felt so bad if they’d all gone to waste because of my clumsiness” he placed a hand over yours, not even minding the dirt and tears that clung to it.

“It’s not quite the same as a ‘bad omen’, it’s also probably a little thoughtless of me to say ‘ forget them’ when they’re a huge part of your culture, your traditions. But…I want you to know that, they could call you any and all these bad things under the sun…and your parents wouldn’t believe them for a minute…I wouldn’t believe them for a minute.”

He stood up then, pulling you gently along with him. You allowed him, though your eyes were too preoccupied with seeing what everyone else is doing. Most were gathered around the fire, listening as one of the elders spoke, others talking and laughing amongst themselves, their cups full of sweet liquid.

He led you down to the river, the water warmed by the long summer day, softly babbling as the wildlife went about their ways. He sat you down on one of the rocks, taking one in front of you for himself.

“What are we doing over here Izuku?”

He didn’t answer you, reaching into one of his pockets and dunking a cloth into the water.

“Isn’t that your handkerchief?” you ask, face molded into disgust as the cloth came closer to you.

“What? No, well yes, but this one is an extra one, it’s clean I promise” he gently placed his hand on your chin, tilting your face up as he wiped the muck off of your face.

His touch was soft but firm, eyes only taking in his work as your own counted the freckles that danced along his cheeks, the way he bit his lip in concentration. Somewhere in the deepest part of your mind and the very center of your heart, you knew why that look had your cheeks turning red and your heart hammering in your chest. But at the forefront of your mind, you couldn’t tell why.

The two of you were silent as he continued his pattern, dunking the cloth into the water, washing out the dirt and wringing out the water to carefully wash away the dirt on your face.

It doesn’t take him long however, to finish with his task, washing and wringing out the cloth for the last time. His eyes finally meet yours, offering a gentle smile that only widened as he booped your nose with the cloth, the face you made sending pink butterflies through his stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, his good mood far too contagious.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his hand still holding your face as he took in your smile. You only hummed in agreement, internally mourning the loss of warmth from his hand as he pocketed the cloth.

“Thank you, Izuku, that was…you are too kind for this world, I think” You stood up from the rock, you couldn’t stay down by the river all night. Your dress may have been ruined, you’d have to apologize to mother for it, but someone must have brought an extra. Or so you hoped.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the clearing, trying to slip past the majority of the party to get to your mother, only for a gentle hand to stop you both in your tracks.

One of the elders, Mrs.Tachibana, looked up at you with kind eyes. She was mostly known for her talent for seeing into the future. That’s what the majority said it was, she described it as, ‘ getting a feeling I’ll need such and such object today’ only for it to come in handy at the oddest of times.

“I’m sorry Mrs.Tachibana, did I bump into you?” She shook her head at your question.

“Oh no dear, but I do have something for you. I had made it for my daughter, but it seems she made her own dress this time. I think It’s a good color for you!” She carefully handed the dress to you, to which you handed to Izuku, your body was covered in mud! You weren’t about to dirty some other dress.

“Oh are you sure-”

“Oh yes of course dear, no one else is going to be wearing it tonight!”

You quickly changed behind a tapestry your mother had been working on, feeling much better and cleaner in this new dress, it was a little on the short end, but just barely past what your mother’s dress had been.

You walk back out to find Izuku waiting for you, the fire having been lit. The music was hardly loud, but the drums struck a chord within your heart that pulsed with energy, a need to sing along, to move to the beat. You bound over to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I see you’re feeling better” He mused, his foot tapping to the beat.

“Much better. Come dance with me?” You tugged gently on his hand toward the fire.

“You know I’m not the best dancer (Y/N)” He warned, as if you didn’t have years of experiencing it first hand. You shrugged your shoulders, even though he was far from good, he was most definitely not a disaster.

“Is that a No?” You swayed back and forth on your heels, looking up at him with what you hoped was a sweet enough look to get what you liked. He let go of your hand, for a moment you feared you’d pushed your luck too far, suddenly his hands were on your waist, lifting you into the air as he spun you into the dancing circle, your shriek of surprise worth the slight pain of him stepping on his own toes as he brought you back down.

You danced the night away together, hardly pausing for a break, you didn’t need to for whatever reason. You just wanted his arms around you, spinning you this way and that, lifting you in time with the music that had your stomach doing somersaults that tickled.

He felt the same, your laughter had his heart soaring, the smile on your face shooting Cupid’s arrows right through his heart. He tripped and stumbled every so often, but it was all worth it if it meant you were having a good time.

The two of you finally stopped to take a break, the moon high in the sky. You pulled him towards the river once again, the cool air there was bound to cool you off.

You sat down in the grass, pulling him down with you as you laughed at his startled expression.

“Well I’d say you did quite well with dancing!”

“Oh do you really? Even with all my fumbles?”

“Eh, you just added a few new steps!”

“A few new steps she says!” He barked out a laugh, tears gathering in his eyes, your own giggles twisting into his like sweet music.

Your laughter died out naturally, the music of crickets and rushing water kept you company, the drums from the music thumping distantly. He leaned back, looking up to the sky, you followed suit, your shoulder pressed against his as you pointed up at the stars.

“I think I’ll draw a new image in the stars. Just for tonight” You traced the shape with your fingers, Izuku mirroring your actions to see if he could get the shape.

“And, what are you going to call this new one?”

“Hmm…I’m not sure yet. It’s a process”

Your brow furrowed as you thought, the thoughts clear in your eyes, oh he was hopeless.

You jumped slightly at the feel of his hand cupping your jaw. His eyes were full of an emotion you couldn’t name, but it set your skin ablaze.

“I’ve had a great time tonight” you murmur, eyes wide and watching. What was he going to do?

“I have too,” he matched your volume, thumb idly stroking your cheek gently.

“I’ve actually thought about this for a while, but I was…afraid to ask you, in case I somehow ruined our friendship. But…the thing is (Y/N), I know our friendship is strong enough to withstand that. I want more than a friendship with you, I…I want to be with you all the time. I wanna be there on your good days, bad days, those days where everything and nothing are going on at once, I want it all,” he took a deep breath, steadying his shaking limbs and resolving his nerves.

“What do you say (Y/N)? Be my Love?”

Your eyes had watered considerably, your own hand holding his, you couldn’t help but nod.

“I was starting to think that my feelings were one sided,” you laughed, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I would love nothing more than to be yours”

He leaned into your space, so carefully, his hand gently pulling you closer until your lips met his, soft and warm, just like yours. You slowly pulled back, only to be gently pulled back in again, over and over until you were used to one another’s rhythm, kisses becoming slower and longer.

His tongue softly asked for entrance, and you readily allowed him access. He tasted of the sweet drink that had been served, goosebumps raised along your skin as he leaned you backwards into the grass, his eyes half lidded as adoration danced along the pinks of his cheeks.

He was careful not to press you too hard into the ground as he kissed you again, your tongues dancing as your hand gripped the hair at the base of his skull. The groan that rumbled through his chest and that particular rough pass of his lips had your toes curling.

He parted from you again, staring at your kiss bruised lips, wet and so inviting looking, moving slowly towards your (E/C) colored eyes, finding the same emotion fluttering in his heart. Carefully he sat up, you following after him with a smile on your face. You sat together, curled into one another as you watched the stars.

It had been four years since that Solstice, the two of you now adults. A year or two after becoming lovers, Izuku had finally found someone to train him into becoming a knight, a real hero. It meant that you would see him less, but he would always write to you when he could.

You were saddened at the news, but also so proud. Finally after all these years, his dream was coming true. He promised you that he would always come back to you, that once he had become a knight, able to help you build your own healing stand in the main city, He’d properly ask you to marry him. You knew he always kept his promises, one way or another.

How could you deny him his dream? You couldn’t truthfully.

That brought you here, scratching out another day along the tally you made. Only a few more days until Izuku came back. You helped your father run the shop now, almost fully taking over as the village healer.

You braced the day with a smile as the regulars came in, the usual ointments for Mrs.Tachibana, some medicine to the mother of some poor twins who had caught some sickness during the seasons change to spring, a wooden spoon covered in semi-crystalized honey for the wailing babe, their teeth slowly but surely coming in.

The morning rush could hardly be considered as such, your doors opening right at the first peak of dawn. You waved off the last of the morning patrons in no time at all.

You bend down to grab a few herbs, mixing something to help soothe Mr.Yamada’s vocal chords. You hear the door push open, pulling you from your line of thought, your eyes meeting bright green.

“Izuku!” you cry, rushing over to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug you could manage. He’d grown so much taller than you last remembered- well just bigger in general!

He’d bulked up considerably- he joked he wanted to get better at giving hugs along with being a Knight- and was now a full two heads taller than you. You only pull back to place your hands on his jaw, pulling him down to kiss you properly.

“Did I surprise you?” he laughed, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

“Yes! You weren’t due back for a few more days! Oh I’m so happy your home!” You stood back up on your toes to press more kisses to his face. “Tell me everything!”

He told you all about the training he went through- hell as he called it, eyes looking back with a slight fondness that only nostalgia could bring- the antics he and some other knights in training had gotten into. His teacher, Aizawa, was a hard man, but ultimately soft hearted in his own way. He couldn’t wait for you to meet the friends he had made, and you were excited to see them.

“I have heard some…other things though” he hesitated, leaning against the counter as you finished Mr.Yamada’s medicine, the yellow glow from your hands dimming until it was no more. “In the city they’re telling stories of witches…and not good ones either.” you hummed in agreement, concern laced into your features.

You’d heard of rumors of witches in nearby towns and villages. At first, nothing was seemingly worrisome about it. So some covens had decided to announce their place in the world, big deal.

Until the rumors had become something dark. Stories of sacrifices, hexes and curses upon innocent bystanders, children. Soon there were rumors of witches in every town, every village.

“Even the people here have started to become…nervous” beforehand, the villagers not a part of your coven had nothing to fear from you, you’d never given them any reason to. But these new witches, witches that were said to be everywhere, brought fear into your community.

“I’m worried Izuku, they’ve started burning people in the next few towns…I’m not sure what we could do, a show of our magic could scare them into a frenzy, but not doing anything could be just as bad. They even have a witch hunter!” you set down the pestle gently, Izuku taking your hand in his.

“I’m worried too. But for right now, the best we can do is wait and see how things go. No matter what, I’ll always be here, you won’t go through this alone.” your heart fluttered warmly at his words, pressing a kiss to his hand.

The next few days did little to raise or diminish your worries. You walked about the village, showing him what all had changed in his absence, ignoring the stares of the same village girls that had teased your dress all those years ago.

It wasn’t until the third week that had changed. Even that morning, the dew felt strung and the air was hot and still. Your father had asked you the night before to gather some lavender from the fields in the morning, he was running low on stock.

The two of you agreed, baskets in hand you walked to the fields.

The breeze began to pick up as you climbed up the hills, the sweet scent dancing around you as you looked up into your lovers eyes.

“Is it just me, or have the lavender fields gotten smaller?” he joked, sitting beside you as you carefully snipped away at the plant, making sure to cut the stalk specifically so the flower could regrow.

“No, I think you’ve just gotten taller.” You mused, handing him the stalks to carefully separate the leaves and the flowers themselves.

It was a tense silence as you worked, though you couldn’t tell what was on his. On yours however, was the frequent news of witches being killed. But not only witches, but innocent people as well, for the slightest and most ridiculous thing. Spoiled milk, your neighbor suddenly falling ill after accidentally tripping over your shoe?

These people wouldn’t know a witch if one kicked them in the ass.

“I think,” Izuku startled you from your thoughts, “It would be best if tonight, you and your family leave with me. At least until all of this calms down.” There would be no reasoning with the public, not with the mass hysteria and distrust of everyone.

“I would agree, but papa would never give up his shop, we’ve been there for years, generations even” you handed him a few more stalks.

“We’ll have to convince him somehow. I had hoped things would die down, considering the evidence and logic-”

“Since when have the masses and logic ever seen eye to eye?” you quip back, brow raised into bittersweet amusement.

“Since never, but I had hoped…Well It doesn’t really matter what I’d hoped. What I’m thinking now is, I write to my fellow knights in training for help. To help move your coven safely” He started to mumble, various questions littering his mind, how fast could a letter get there?

Their letters had been casual, while important, they weren’t of any dire emergency. Would his friends believe him? No of course they would, once he proved to them the logic of things. The masses may not be so…sensitive to logic, but his fellow knights were not the masses.

It takes you until sunset to gather enough petals to fill the basket, though the two of you were hardly in any hurry. You walked back to the village, the tense air having loosened just ever so slightly.

All the relaxation the lavender provided was gone the second black smoke was visible over the hill. Lavender forgotten, you ran to the village, the smoke billowing from two stakes. You raced down the hill, passing the well.

No…No gods please no!

On one stake was the remnants of your mother, her eyes open towards the sky as her body drew no more breath. Beside her was your father, eyes closed. A cry of rage and sorrow rang loose, distant from your ears as strong, familiar arms wrapped around you. You screamed and kicked, clawed at his arms. Your throat felt raw as you cried, eyes looking for someone, anyone to blame.

You’d only heard descriptions of him, hairdo pale it was blue, with eyes as red as the blood of innocents he condemned- Tomura Shigaraki.

“Let their souls be cleansed of this evil, so they may find rest at the side of the great one, All for One” his voice was horrid, nasal and cruel, the imagery of snakes filling the back of your mind. He didn’t believe a word he was saying, so evident by the snarl at his lip he called a smile, twisted pleasure saturating his eyes.

“Ah, the main event has arrived!” he snapped his fingers motioning towards you and Izuku, his guards making their way over to you.

One man pulled you from Izuku’s grasp, two men grabbing Izuku by the arms. He swore, headbutting one of the guards, kicking back on the others shin. “You let go of her!” he growled, another pair tackling him down to the ground to restrain him.

“You evil, wicked thing! How dare you kill these innocent people, how dare-” you shrieked and shrieked as you struggled against your captor, another guard capturing your other arm.

“You may struggle now witch! The evil within fights back! But don’t worry, you’ll soon be cleansed.”

Despite your struggles, the both of you are taken into one of the old jails, hidden underground.

The place was dusty from lack of use, the packed earth against the stone kept it cool. You were leaned up against the bars, Izuku leaning against the same ones across from you. He couldn’t hold you like he wanted, the bars too small for anything else but his hands.

“I should have thought about this harder…I should have made a plan sooner” he murmured, breaking the silence. “If I hadn’t wasted time, then maybe-”

“Don’t” your voice was clipped and harsh. You hadn’t meant to be, regret adding to the myriad of emotions pulsing around your broken heart. “Mum and Papa wouldn’t want you to…to talk like that.” you wipe a tear as best as you can, your hand reaching to find his again.

“It’s no one’s fault but that damned Shigaraki” you hiss, “ He’s the witch hunter. He’s selling the world a story and they’re all buying it.” you could feel his lips pressed against your forehead. You shift so you are on your knees, holding onto the bars for balance, you kiss him, deeply, trying to memorize the taste of him one last time.

You stay like that, murmuring sweet nothings to one another, for who knows how long. You only know that it is all too soon when they open the doors again, dragging you out to the stake. Izuku struggles against the guards as they force him into a kneeling position beside Shigaraki.

Your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you struggle against your bonds. What you wouldn’t give to become the witch they so feared, maybe then your parents would be alive. Maybe then you and your betrothed would have a chance of surviving.

The fire starts all too quickly, Izuku’s agonized screams of horror sharp in your mind as tears run down your cheeks. Your last image of him couldn’t be of his eyes filled with hopelessness.

“I love you Izuku! I love you so much, We’ll be together again I swear it-”

“Silence Witch! Your spells have no power here!”

You ignored them, screaming louder, a cool burning sensation wrapping around the ring finger of your left hand, “I will find you! I don’t care how long it takes, we will be together!”

“I love you (Y/N)!” he cries back, a cool burning sensation around his left ring finger was left unnoticed. He was focused entirely on you. Until his world went black.

The guard righted himself, adjusting his hands behind his back, Izuku sat there, his head tilted forward, unconscious. Your heart finally severed, the only explanation for the black ink that spilled from it, tainting all in its path. The wind howled as a sudden storm raged above you, hair twisting this way and that, fueled by the wild look in your eyes, satisfaction found within the fear of Shigaraki’s red irises.

Your magic wasn’t made for curses or hexes. But with your heart broken, the once golden light of your magic turned vengeful, bubbling and vicious. Even as the smoke rose, your voice boomed across the village.

“May your days be numbered!” the crowd gasped, your voice multiplied, as if thousands were speaking at once, your eyes roaming across all of those who had cheered for you and your parents demise, of all those who died before you.

“May your last passing hours be filled with my ghostly visage, as all your loved ones choke on my ashes they thought long swept away! May you die in fear, knowing your bloodline will end with your hatred!”

The smoke from your pyre weaved around the guilty villagers, more thickly located around Shigaraki and his group. Your vision was turning spotty, but you didn’t care, you weren’t done. If you had to die, you were going out on your own terms.

“To those of you who survive, may you always see my shadow at the end of your beds as you sleep! May your Children curse your name! For your evil, your wickedness! For your Injustice!”

The storm raged on, even as you choked your last breath, your vision turning dark.

I’ll be with you soon my love…

.X.

You blinked, your eyes wet with unshed tears as you glanced around the room, your friends, Ochaco, Iida, and Todoroki were all behind you, looking at you with wide eyes. Next to you sat your boyfriend of two years, now in your third year at UA. His eyes were also wet, slowly turning to gaze towards you.

You had all decided to go to the fair that had opened up. Towards the end of your merriment, you spotted a fortune teller of a sort, and decided to go inside. Everything had been fairly light hearted and fun, until the two of you sat down for your turn. The fortune teller was shocked, the past had something important for you to see, and by all that was good you were going to see it.

You looked down at the promise ring Izuku bought you. It burned with the same cool sensation as you remembered…saw past you. It felt like…a small part of you had been unlocked, as if some part of you had been missing for all of these years.

“We found each other after all”

He gave you a gentle smile, one you returned.

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shihalyfie · 4 years

Text

A meta on Miyako, and her position in the 02 group

One piece of cultural context that tends to get lost in translation a lot when it comes to Digimon is the relative order of who’s older than whom. Of course, in any country, the difference between an eleven-year-old and a twelve-year-old is still pretty significant, but in East Asian culture, that single year is A Big Deal. (This is why Adventure’s first episode has everyone introduce themselves with their grade levels, even though it seems pointless to do this with otherworldly creatures.)

So Miyako’s the oldest in the 02 group. Let’s talk about Miyako!

Digimon being a series that loves to play with preconceived expectations, it’s probably no surprise that the oldest one is...not exactly the stellar example of an esteemed elder. Despite being the oldest, Miyako is one of the biggest disaster children in the entire group, with only Daisuke competing for that position.

On top of that, we then start bringing Japanese honorifics into play, which throws another wrench into it, because that single year can be the difference between a -san and a -kun, and that will be drilled into your head as the kids talk to each other over the course of the whole series. This is why leaving honorifics in translation is such a disputed topic in localization debates to this day (because it does have a lot of information on how characters see each other), and even I have to admit that while I’m normally in the “cut them out!” camp, I’m so accustomed to their usage in Digimon that I’m still using the honorifics in fanfic because of how weird it feels to drop them now (even though this relegates me to the hell of maintaining an Excel spreadsheet).

Let’s look at the honorifics chart for Miyako. What do the others in the team call her?

Daisuke: Miyako

Iori: Miyako-san

Takeru: Miyako-san

Hikari: Miyako-san

Ken: Miyako-san

Well, would you look at that. Every single person except for Daisuke uses -san on her. By the time you’ve gotten to the end of the series, the association between Miyako and the “respect honorific” is probably going to be pretty high. And in fact, Daisuke did accidentally slip into using -san on her, in a moment of being a bit out of it in episode 30. Miyako’s response? “It feels weird when you add the -san.” Really, the only reason he doesn’t use the honorific with her seems to only really be because of how close he is with her -- he uses proper honorifics on all other elders, but Miyako’s enough of a fellow disaster child that he’s comfortable getting a bit more in her face.

This isn’t the first time the series had pulled out the idea of “the oldest one is actually not very reliable”, of course -- infamously, Jou was the oldest in the Adventure group, something he even took as a reason that he was supposed to be the most responsible, but unfortunately was...simultaneously the most reliable and unreliable. In the end, of course, everyone came to learn that he’d pull through...eventually, but he (especially in the first half) had a lot of an aura of exasperation and occasional “uh...is he gonna be okay...” doubt around him.

But this isn’t quite the case for Miyako.

One interesting thing about Miyako is that even when she shows off some of her worst traits in front of them -- being shallow over appearances, being a little too over-the-top, or sometimes losing control over herself...nobody really holds it against her. Even when she was fangirling over Ichijouji Ken in episode 8, Daisuke seems more taken aback than he has any criticisms about her behavior, Iori only points out that she normally wouldn’t be into younger boys, and eventually everyone moves on from the topic.

In fact, people getting exasperated over her only generally seems to happen on the actual spot, and only when things really hit peak. Nobody ever really holds things like “Miyako’s into hot guys” over her head once all is said and done -- in fact, nobody ever really criticizes Miyako’s personality or behavior or expresses doubt in her ability to do something much whenever there’s no need to. Whenever Miyako does do something disastrously bad, nobody brings the incident up again. It’s more like an “oh, dear, please help us” whenever things do get bad...and then they all move on and forgive her.

In fact, the only times any major criticisms or doubts about Miyako’s personality or reliability come out are from episode 31, which, of course, was also a major character building episode for her...

...and note the contexts these came in: the first is from Daisuke, who’s the one person on the team known to be comfortable with constantly bantering with her (and is also comparing her to Hikari, whom we know he puts on a pedestal), and the second is Hikari laying down an extremely mild criticism of her character that actually is quickly followed by an admission that she envies her for that aspect of her (because Hikari is on the other extreme, being emotionally repressive and unable to voice her feelings well).

Ken joins the team halfway into the series, and although he’s a polite person in general (he also calls Hikari “Hikari-san”, even though she’s the same age as him), there’s actually enough to indicate he also looks up to her with respect.

I say that Miyako was the second person after Daisuke to bid for Ken joining the group, but one of the really, really important parts that shouldn’t be forgotten here is that it was the exact same episode (25) -- Daisuke starts making proposals to the other kids to bring him in and makes his first move to reach out at the beginning, and Miyako at the end. In terms of the actual series’s chronology, this was only a single day of difference...and it’s not until six more episodes when we get our next person (Hikari) openly showing receptiveness (even then, Hikari doesn’t actually vocalize this besides dropping him a line in 34, so Ken may not have really felt anyone’s opinion on him really changing until then, or until Takeru in 37).

So we have Daisuke and Miyako openly accepting Ken at virtually the same time (Miyako made it very clear to him that she was open to him through her email at the end of episode 25). The two of them took very different approaches in reaching out to Ken thereafter -- Daisuke decided to be a bit more aggressive and in-your-face, and, ultimately, became the one who emotionally connected with him the best (because with someone like Ichijouji Ken, there are barriers you need to be breaking). Miyako’s stance was to give him space and let him join on his own terms, and while this didn’t get her nearly as emotionally close to him, it did actually have an interesting side effect where he initially seemed to be a lot more comfortable about approaching her (because she’s a little more gentle in approaching him, so she’s not as intimidating and doesn’t bring up the Complicated Feelings associated with his changing relationship with Daisuke, at least until he finally does figure those out in the end).

He actually “tacitly nods” at Miyako in battling with her during the events of episode 25 (and this is notable in that this was before she sent her email to him at the end of it).

Which means that he actually gets two “one-on-one” scenes with her in episodes 30 and 33, which is actually pretty surprising when you consider how this entire thing was during an arc when he was still pretty stilted and awkward when dealing with the other kids directly. 33 is interesting because it actually would mean very little by itself if it weren’t for the context this scene is in -- three episodes prior, Miyako slapped Ken in the face, and one episode after that, Ken saw Miyako at her absolute hysterical worst, throwing a panicked fit, infringing on insensitivity in all directions, and generally being a mess...but not only does he seem to be absent a grudge about any of this, he’s still more than willing to be her partner’s caretaker and dash all the way to Kyoto in an “I trust you with this” manner.

Basically? Despite everything, he actually trusts and respects her abilities quite a lot.

So why does Miyako get to be a complete mess and all over the place, and yet still seem to command this much respect among the 02 crowd? The answer is, quite simply, that they like her a lot.

Let’s look at what Miyako calls her friends.

Daisuke: Daisuke

Iori: Iori

Takeru: Takeru-kun

Hikari: Hikari-chan

Ken: Ichijouji-kun (until episode 30), Ken-kun (episode 25 and after).

Interesting web of relationships here. Miyako presumably omits the honorific with Iori because she’s known him closely as her neighbor since prior to the series. In a similar vein to how she doesn’t want Daisuke to use an honorific on her, she omits it on him -- the two really are very close, even if they don’t give off that aura at first. She’s respectful with Takeru, and endearing with Hikari, and, notably, she is the first person in the entire group to switch to given name basis with Ken (Daisuke doesn’t do this until episode 30, and not regularly until 39), indicating that she very, very much wanted to go out of her way to reach out to and get closer to him.

Unlike Jou, who sometimes tried to use his position as the oldest as proof that he should be commanding that kind of respect, Miyako doesn’t really have any conscious awareness that she’s the oldest (the only time she consciously pulls it out is episode 8, when she’s talking about Ken being younger than her, and it’s otherwise implied by the way she acts in episode 7 that she actually forgets about this regularly), because she’s too busy doting on everyone. Miyako is extremely affectionate, and one of her first actions in the entire series was to bring food for everyone, even though she’d just met them all. For all intents and purposes, she actually basically is the mom of the group (it’s just...she’s more of a disaster than you’d usually expect the archetype to be). And on top of that, she’s bright, and cheerful, and brings everyone’s spirits up -- that same overly dramatic, all-over-the-place nature that causes her to sometimes lose control is the same exuberance that leads her to go “Digital Gate, open! Chosen Children, let’s roll!”

Her ridiculous antics make people laugh. This happens twice at prominent plot points (Hikari in episode 31, and Ken in episode 38), and, heck, even her depiction in the epilogue is another moment of her causing her family to laugh. Miyako always has her heart in the right place; she cares about her friends deeply, and makes this very clear.

And Ken certainly must have come to recognize this himself by the end of the series, considering...

“Please don’t worry about me” -- or, in other words, what you say when you know someone is going out of their way to be emotionally invested in your welfare. Ken, still soft-spoken, polite, and respectful, by this point was well aware that Miyako was a fundamentally good person looking out for him -- so, in other words, he’d also hopped on the Inoue Miyako respect train.

And as I’ve pointed out many times, the 02 group was a little different from their seniors in that they were “social-life” friends -- people who enjoyed each other’s company even when it had nothing to do with Digimon incidents -- and so it meant that, in the end, they all really did have a lot of fondness for Miyako as a friend, and it really is that much easier to “forgive” your friend’s faults when you care about your friend that much. You have a friend who dotes on you and cares about you, and although she’s a little high-strung and off her rocker at times, she’s also bright and funny, so in the end, can you really fault her?

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #miyako inoue #inoue miyako #shihameta

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