#and then scout is just. perfectly untouched

[scoutsbiggestfan]

ok but one thing that ive noticed is that when people draw some of the mercs (especially scout) they have like. no scars. they are paid mercinaries they kill people. make them fucked up give them scars

and because i mentioned scout i think because a lot of people never draw him with scars that makes him appear less. idk. just not the same as the rest in a "oh hes just there and dumb and blah blah" when again hes a paid mercinary!!! he was paid to kill like the rest of them!!! he is not normal

[thechildofbhaalhasawoken]

It was @sweetjulieapples who requested a headcanon-y thing about Commander Cullen first meeting our Inquisitor-to-be. Thank you for the request! It turned into this thing below.

I never thought of it as love at first sight, even though it is more or less canon that he could not get his eyes off of her when they first met. I like to think love - their love, especially - as something more than just physical lust.

Cullen POV of some (initial) moments of DA:I. Also fleshing out my Lavellan a bit.

You can also read this on Ao3 but it's her in its entirety too.

First looks

The first time Commander Cullen saw her, she was unconscious - apparently in a coma. He was furious. How was it possible that in the middle of all the destruction, death, fire, the scorched bodies, lied a perfectly untouched woman? It was like she was dropped from the Heavens after the explosion - her golden hair, her smooth skin, her plump lips slightly parted, her clothes blackened with soot only by the soldiers who found her. Her lean frame, with long dangling limbs, was carried away by the soldiers from what used to be the Temple of Sacred Ashes, leaving the Commander angry and baffled. How was she the only one alive? Was she to blame? The delicate tattoo on her brow and forehead and her attire suggested she was Dalish. Why would a Dalish Elf do this? How was a Dalish elf even capable of this? How was anyone? The answer to the question had to be in the green glowing mark on her left hand, flashing in the same pattern with the nightmarish breach in the sky.

The second time Commander Cullen saw her, she was still in a coma. He had spent an exhausting day and night fighting demons dropping from the holes in the sky and securing some kind of safe spaces for who ever was still alive. Leliana told him of the apostate elf who seemed to be able to stabilise the mystery woman and the mark on her hand. Cullen came to see him, and her. She was in a jail cell, as Cassandra had insisted, and he was there to monitor her. Solas, the apostate had introduced himself. Cullen had nodded at him, but kept his eyes on her. Fluttering eyelashes, sharp nose and proud tattooed forehead in the middle of disheveled strands of long hair. The Commander wondered darkly who she was. She was younger than him by several years, he estimated, but guessing women’s age was always difficult if not dangerous. She was of athletic, lithe build, which then again was nothing unusual for a nomadic Dalish elf. Was she a mage? Her attire suggested otherwise. No one alive seemed to know her or how she connected to the Conclave. Solas had no answers either, only that she might wake within the next day.

A plan was hatched. Solas was certain the mark was connected to the Breach. If it had ripped the Veil between the Fade and the waking world, could it be used to mend it as well? Cassandra would question the prisoner once she woke, and they would test Solas’s theory one way or another. Cassandra’s jaw clenched angrily, and Cullen felt she wished she could use some force just to douse her grief. Cullen left them to wait and busied himself with organising first aid, arming soldiers against the demons scouring the area and setting up forward camps with Leliana.

The third time he saw her, he had already received news from Cassandra brought in by a messenger bird.

The prisoner woke up today, as expected. She claims she has no memory of what happened at the Conclave, nor does she know what the mark on her hand is. She says her name is Ellana of the Dalish clan Lavellan, from the Free Marches. She says her Keeper sent her to the Conclave because her clan recognises that whatever happens here would have consequences for everyone. I asked why they would send her in particular. She explained that she has had training for both hunting and scouting but has turned into something of a liason between her clan and outsiders, apparently due to her language skills and innate curiosity. The prisoner said she was happy to leave the clan to experience and learn new things, but she claims to be shocked and saddened by what has happened. She is in good enough condition to walk on her own. I will take her, meet with the apostate mage Solas, and test our plan. If it works, we will meet you at the forward camp, if not earlier.

C.P.

Another one of the rifts on the path to the Temple was active again, and once again The Commander fought demons with his weary men. This time, however, he noticed from the corner of his eye that they received backup. Cassandra’s unmistakeble form was accompanied by Varric and his eccentric crossbow, the apostate mage Solas with his staff and a fourth figure wielding a sword who he recognised with a jolt as the prisoner, Lavellan. He had no time to dwell on their backup, however, but defend himself and his archers against a rage demon.

Once the last of the demons of the wave were banished, the field was suddenly ablaze with green energy that rang in the Commander’s ears. He saw from afar that it was the prisoner Lavellan who stood with her feet wide apart, her long golden hair blazing around her, holding a short sword in her right hand and her left arm extended at the rift. A beam of magical energy traversed between her hand and the rift that then suddenly closed and vanished entirely.

The elven woman, who had for a moment looked like a fantastical being from myths, faltered and stumbled as if the energy beam had held her upright. She then wearily sheathed her sword and held her glowing left hand with a grimace.

As Solas and Varric approached Lavellan, Cullen walked towards Cassandra, who was closest to him. The Seeker met him as she also sheathed her sword.

”Lady Cassandra,” the Commander greeted her, ”you managed to close the rift, well done.”

”Do not congratulate me, Commander,” the Seeker replied and took a step aside to give him full view of the woman behind her. ”This is the prisoner’s doing.”

Cullen stopped in his tracks - Cassandra sounded impressed, not near-homicidal like she had been before the prisoner had woken up. He took a good look at the elven woman - it was strange to see her up and about now after only seeing her unconcious so far. Of course it made sense that there was a difference now that she was fully in control of herself - save for the evidently distressing mark on her hand. When she was unconcious, you could project anything you wanted on her. Perhaps she was an enemy agent, or a disguised blood mage, full of spite and evil intentions. Or perhaps she was an innocent victim, her young flawless skin and golden locks of hair around her symmetrical face making her look like a drawing of a virtuous princess from a children’s book, waiting for a prince to wake her with a kiss. It turned out, now that she stood in front of him, she was neither. How she carried herself with self-assurance, how her subtle moves spoke to his practiced eye of physical training and prowess, what an intelligent, discerning look she had in her blue eyes - why did he even remark on the colour of her eyes? - how she bit her teeth together to keep the pain from her hand showing. Who is she, he found himself wondering again.

”Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here,” he barked at the woman, surprised to hear the hostility now in his own voice instead of Cassandra’s.

”You’re not the only one hoping that,” the elf replied, her voice a tad deeper than he had expected. Perhaps not as young as he had thought at first.

”We’ll see soon enough, won’t we.”

He turned to negotiate their next moves with Cassandra, and soon the Seeker was off with her unlikely companions.

*

He had seen from afar her settle the Breach above the ruined Temple of Sacred Ashes. He had seen what dozens of others saw, and he understood how the tide turned for Lavellan. He himself had recited a small prayer to Andraste under his breath watching her brace her entire body against the rift and calm the Breach in the sky. It was hard not to give into the surge of fanatical hope that spread like wildfire and took over their encampment at Haven. It did not help that, once again, Lavellan spent days unconscious, garnering praying villagers and even pilgrims from nearby settlements outside the small house where Solas and Adaan looked after her.

Three days and three nights passed. Cullen was surprised to notice that he received a handful recruits during those days. Some came to pray at the door of the Herald of Andraste, others came to fight for her. He was kept very busy during those days by organising what was left of his men, and assigning the new recruits to be trained. The barracks were to be arranged, guard duties and training rounds to be organised, endless correspondence to deal with, not to mention dodging the Chantry officials who had marched in like they owned the place. Luckily the left and right hands of Divine Justinia put the Chantry officials into their place rather quickly.

On the fourth morning Cullen noticed an unusual amount of whispers and nervous fidgeting in and around the Chantry of Haven. Leliana confirmed his suspicions to him: Lavellan, or The Herald of Andraste, as the people called her, had finally awoken.

They had agreed that Cassandra as a familiar face would be the first to meet Lavellan, and then bring her into their War Room. He was pleased to concentrate on his work during the morning even though whole of Haven seemed to be buzzing with excitement. Cassandra had been buzzing for the past few days too. Cullen knew she was eager to slam the tome on the War Table and make the official announcement. It did not matter much to him; she had recruited him for the Inquisition many weeks ago in Kirkwall and he was already committed.

A couple of hours later Josephine dragged him away from his work. It was time for proper introductions, she said.

Cullen was the last to arrive to the War Room only moments before Cassandra marched in with Lavellan in tow. After three days of unconciousness, the elf looked like she had bathed in the morning after Adaan had checked in with her. She was clean and tidy with her long hair in an elaborate chignon bun, and even if she seemed a little weary, her eyes were bright and her voice warm and gentle. ”Pleased to meet you all,” Lavellan said after formal introductions, and seemed to actually mean it.

As they had been waiting for Lavellan to wake up for days, they dived quickly into what choices they had going forward. They had had time to plan and discuss, but the Herald’s face showed bewilderment. Despite that, Cullen was impressed with how she did not question her part in this, how readily she offered her help, how earnest her questions and comments were. She may have seemed a little cold and haughty the first time he had met her, but he had to remind himself that she had no memory of what had happened but she had been blamed, imprisoned, and dragged forcefully to solve a situation she did not understand. Cullen wondered if he would have been able to take it all in stride as well as she did. He knew the answer, and decided to make her work of carrying the mark and the title of Herald of Andraste as easy as possible with his work.

*

Makeshift tables, tents in the courtyard, winches first lifting rubble away, then lifting furniture in place. The first traveling merchant arrived to Skyhold with the second wave of pilgrims, next came the first donations from noble families both from Ferelden and Orlais. Grain and other food, cloth and leather, weapons, art, gold, other supplies, even furniture and skilled people were sent to them.

Locals who knew the area helped the scouts get to know the surroundings. Hunters provided meat and fish, the mages worked as healers and researchers, all able bodied lent their strength to clean and renovate. Youngsters from all around trekked through the mountain pass to join the Inquisition - they were Ferelden, Orlesian, Nevarran, human, dwarven, elven, all kinds.

They came because of her. They came because someone had met her, had been helped by her, had been touched by her, and that someone had told their family, their village, their merchant, their traveling bard. The near mythical story of The Herald of Andraste spread, and it was amazing how quickly the people made the decision to pick up their things and come to Skyhold.

Commander Cullen stood on the ramparts looking down at the courtyard. Moving through the people below the Herald had caught his eye. He watched how she smiled at them, greeted them, asked how their sick mother was, if they had found a place to stay in. She cared for them, and she cared for their cause.

Something stirred inside of him as he followed her form with his eyes. She was wearing a white linen tunic underneath a long leather vest, her long hair open, flowing around her, her earnest smile meeting people readily. She had smiled at him, too. She had been happy that he - that so many - had escaped Haven with their lives. She had been happy he had made it. He had been devasted by having to send her to her death in Haven. And then she had miraculously survived and somehow revived him from withdrawal-muddled darkness by fluttering those frosted eyelashes at him as he had carried her to safety on the mountainside. Maker’s breath. Those eyelashes. And those bright eyes, that earnest smile. The kindness and courage she inspired people with. The way she had smiled at him. Something was stirring inside of him.

[gravitytrips]

Reality’s an Illusion, the Universe is- Wait wrong show

It was dinner time at the RED base. Everyone was eating or chatting. There was one voice that was distinctly missing, though. The voice of Scout was silent. 

At first, this abnormality was easily ignored. Then, it became painfully clear that Scout was not speaking at all. 

“Are you ok, son?” Engineer asked, giving Scout’s shoulder a little shake from the seat next to him.

Scout did not reply. He just stared at his plate, which appeared to be untouched.

“Is there something wrong? Are ya sick? Ya have ta eat.” Engineer’s hand moved from Scout’s shoulder to his forehead, feeling for a fever. Scout remained perfectly still. 

Engineer frowned.

“Son? Can ya hear me?”

Engineer was beginning to feel panic rising in his chest. This was completely abnormal for Scout. What was wrong with him?

“Stay here, son. I’ll be right back.”

Engineer stood, making his way over to where Heavy and Medic were talking and laughing.

“Doc? Can I talk to ya for a second?” Engineer asked, bringing Medic out of his conversation.

“Hm? Vhat is it?” Medic asked, his face changing to one of slight worry.

“Somethin’s wrong with the kid. He’s not talking or eating. He wouldn’t even move.” Engineer said, his nerves apparent through his voice.

Medic’s frown grew deeper as he glanced over to where Scout always sat at the table.

“Engineer? He is no longer in his seat.” Medic said, a hint of concern in his voice.

Engineer’s heart leapt into his throat as he swore.

“We have to go find him. Something’s wrong with him.” Engineer’s voice was filled with panic now. Something deep inside him was screaming that Scout was in danger.

Similarly, the alarm bells were going off in Medic’s mind as his brisk walk developed into running.

Scout sat on the floor of his bedroom. He was silent and stone faced. Engineer followed the boy’s eyes to his lap, where a knife lay in his hands. Scout’s eyes stared blankly at the object. The boy’s fingers twitched ever so slightly, grazing the sharp edge.

Both the doctor and the engineer stood in the doorway, frozen. Contemplating what to do. Suddenly, Scout grasped the handle of the knife and stabbed it into his leg. That stony look never fell from his face.

Medic acted quickly, pulling Scout’s hand off of the knife and pinning the boy against the ground.

“Dell! Your electrical chord, bitte!”  Medic shouted to the still frozen Engineer as Scout struggled to get free.

Engineer shook his head, breaking out of his stupor and unclamping the chord from his belt and rushing it to Medic.

Medic hastily, but securely, wrapped the chord around Scout, keeping the boy from grabbing the knife and hurting himself father.

“What do we do?!” Engineer practically screamed as he attempted to hold down Scout’s legs.

“Ve have to get him to zhe infirmary. Go get Heavy. He vill be zhe best for carrying Scout.”

Medic’s voice and demeanor portrayed calmness, but there was a hint of panic in the doctor’s eyes. It was clear that he was not used to treating a patient whose injuries were self-inflicted.

Once Engineer had left the room, Medic turned his attention of Scout.

“Jeremy? Can jou hear me?” Medic spoke gently, his voice betraying some of the fear and sadness he felt.

Scout did not answer. His face remained in that same blank expression. The young man had stopped fighting at this point. He lay on the floor, quivering a bit.

“Vhy? Vhy did jou do zhis? Please, tell me! Vhat’s wrong?” Medic was nearly pleading Scout for answers now, unable to understand how the young man could be fine one day, then causing himself harm the next.

Then, Scout finally spoke.

“It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

“Vhat?? Vhat are jou saying??”

“None of this is real. None of us are real. This war never ends. We never die. It’s all so pointless. So meaningless.” Scout spoke in a monotone voice, his face never changing. Blood seeps from the wound in his leg, staining his pants. 

Medic is deeply disturbed now. He had never heard Scout speak like this before. What was this moron talking about?

“Jeremy, vhere did jou hear zhat? Who told jou zhis nonsense?”

“Have you ever been into town, doc? There’s nobody there. You walk into town, and suddenly there’s people. But when you aren’t there….” Scout trailed off, “I left a camera in town with a bunch of film one day. Figured I could get some funny footage of those idiot townspeople. After the ten minutes it took for me to get out of town, the people disappeared. We aren’t in a real place, doc. Everything we know and love is fake.”

Before Medic could reply, Engineer rushed back into the room with Heavy right behind him. Medic sat for a moment, thinking about what Scout had said. Then, he shoved those thoughts aside. He needed to take care of the physical health of Scout before he worried about the mental. 

“Heavy, vould jou please take Herr Scout down to zhe infirmary? He has harmed himself and is in need of medical attention.”

Medic said flatly, still staring down at the now passive Scout.

“Da. Heavy will take little man to Doktor’s workplace.” Heavy spoke softly, scooping Scout up. It was clear to him that Medic was distraught. The doctor’s accent always got heavier when he was distressed.

Later, in the infirmary, Medic was still mulling over the things Scout had said. The doctor had long suspected that there was more to their situation than he knew about, but he had never thought that their entire reality was false. Medic glanced down at Scout. The boy’s leg had been bandaged and he had been medicated into a deep sleep. The steady rise and fall of Scout’s chest did nothing to comfort the doctor.

What if Scout was right? Then what?

@aerowolf

@callme-adam-iguess

[frogsmulder]

When the Ice Melts

chapter 3/4, prev chapter

Mulder and Scully hook up before Mulder is locked up in storage, and she comes to believe that he was infected; 800 words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic

Read on AO3

At half six, Mulder’s alarm wakes her from a restless sleep she didn’t know she had fallen into. She lies awake facing the ceiling, listening to the ringing of the bell absently for a while then leans over to turn it off. Peering round the door edge, Scully scouts the corridor for any signs of movement before crossing to her own door unnoticed.

The thought of him still at the front of her mind, she finds herself back at the red door, but can’t bring herself to open it–despite wanting to so desperately–for fear of what she might see. Pulling herself away again, Scully stops and looks back. An ache in her stomach and her mouth dry, she swallows, warring with herself. After a long second she goes, leaving the handle untouched, as though she were never there, the thought of seeing him never existing. He can’t possibly know she was there, but she wants him to nevertheless.

As she enters the lab room, her footsteps slow. Da Silva is asleep on a desk, her neck perfectly poised. The idea leaps like sin into her mind and she approaches slowly with caution. If she can prove it isn’t Mulder that is infected, she can free him; she wouldn’t be alone anymore. Her heart thrums in her chest, racing ahead of herself. She wouldn’t be trapped; she could free herself. With trembling fingers she reaches up to brush away the hair from her neck. A hand pulls her away abruptly. She gasps and Da Silva yelps.

“What were you doing?” The sound of Hodges voice grates more than his vice-like grip.

With clenched teeth she answers, “You know what I was doing.”

“You know, I can’t help thinking, Agent Scully, you're the only one with a gun.” There's the hint of something between a snarl and grin playing at his lips while his eyes remain cool. It's as if he knows exactly how to play her: how to rile her. “If you get infected we don’t stand a chance, do we?”

Taking out the magazines of both her guns, she holds them high and marches to the end door, where she hurls them into the freezing, falling snow. Jaw set, she walks slowly back, maintaining gaze with Hodge to make her opinions painfully sharp.

Da Silva timidly touches the back of her neck and looks up to her. “Was there something there?”

Hodge interrupts before Scully can reply, placing a comforting arm on Da Silva's shoulder; the familiarity of the gesture turns something sour in Scully’s stomach. “You're okay Nancy,” He doesn’t take his eyes off Scully as he makes his point. “We’re all okay. Now is not the time for the three of us to break down and turn on each other.”

She steps forward, her skin hot and palms clammy. “There’s four of us.”

“Mulder is not one of us anymore.”

She bubbles and boils over and snaps, “If Mulder is infected, it’s not his fault! We can’t turn our backs on him now; he needs us to help him!”

“She’s right.” Da Silva speaks with a calm tone that takes Scully by surprise. “Who knows what prolonged exposure to the parasite could do to him? It could damage him to the point of permanent psychosis.”

“But if he is infected, he doesn’t go back. I won’t risk the possibilities 

.....

“No, dammit! What did I just get through telling you? You just infected already infected blood. Now we have to start all over again!”

“I made a mistake; you don’t have to yell at me.”

The shouts come thick and fast from the lab area, abrupt and all at once. Scully looks up from the notes of her own report to catch the commotion. 

“Wasted hours of work!”

“Okay! Well maybe you should just do it by yourself, dammit…”

She walks in as they leave still firing with tension and she wonders what she would have found had she tried to check Hodge’s neck. Their hollers continue in the distance and from their tones she can tell there is an underlying mistrust between them, a lack of respect and equality that turns their arguments bitter and resentful. 

The lab is a mess of scattered samples and paper but in the middle of it all, Scully peers down the eyepiece of the microscope, adjusting the height of the slide to focus the image. Her breath catches as she watches. It couldn't be that simple could it? The larvae continue to squirm and jab at each other, acting out the violent behaviour they would in humans. 

Two worms… 

Their attacks slow. 

… in one host… 

Finally, they both lie still, killed by the other. 

… will kill each other. 

Her head shoots up, eyes wide with realisation. Mulder. She needs Mulder. 

[momsopposed2theoccult]

A Very Special Night

Hey everybody! Here’s a quick oneshot I wrote where Toph and Su help Lin get ready for her school dance, because we deserve more happy Beifongs and Lin getting the love and support from her family that she was denied in canon. Enjoy! 

“So, are you nervous? You must be nervous, you’re not eating.”

Lin looked up from her plate at her sister’s words. It was true, she was nervous. Her dinner lay untouched on her plate, as her stomach was in knots.

“Eat up, baby girl. You can’t dance on an empty stomach. Well, I suppose you can, but you shouldn’t,” her mother chimed in. 

“No, no, I’m not nervous. I’m just… excited, that’s all!,” she lied, something her mother picked up on immediately. 

Toph’s expression shifted into one of concern.

“What’s wrong, Linny? This is a big night, you should be over the moon right now,” she wondered. 

It was true, tonight was a big night. When her school at first announced that they were going to be hosting a formal, Lin decided right away that she would not be attending. She was a horrible dancer, not to mention socially awkward, and she didn’t know the first thing about getting dressed up. It wasn’t until one of her oldest and quite frankly only friends, Tenzin, had decided that he wanted to go and as his best friend she was obligated to go with him was she convinced to buy a ticket. 

Lin wasn’t sure why she felt like her heart was gonna beat out of her chest when he asked her to go with him. It wasn’t like it was a date or anything. She had known Tenzin forever. This was just a friend thing, she repeated over and over again in her head, although the mantra didn’t do much to rest her fast beating heart. 

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

“Promise,” Toph and Su assured her.

“Well, I have a dress and shoes and everything, but I’m still not really sure how I’m going to do my hair and makeup. You know I’m not good at that stuff,” she confessed, blushing. 

Su perked up. “Oh, that’s easy! I can do it for you, I’m great at that stuff!”

It was true. Su had always had a keen and stylish eye that her visually challenged mother and dorky sister lacked. Maybe Lin should have felt embarrassed that her ten year old kid sister knew more about these things than herself, a girl of fifteen, but she was honestly just grateful for her help. 

“Here, I can do it right now no problem,” Su offered. The sisters got up from the table and began to make their way upstairs.

“Hey, girls! Aren’t you gonna finish your dinner?,” Toph called out.

“Yeah, yeah, we will in a bit. But this is more important!,” Su shouted back from the top of the staircase.

The girls made their way to the bathroom, where Su sat Lin down on the closed toilet seat. She pulled out a hairbrush and assorted hair elastics and then plopped herself down on the edge of the bathtub behind her sister. 

“So, you and Tenzin?,” she asked suggestively as she brushed out Lin’s hair. 

Lin began to blush. “What about me and Tenzin?”

“Is this a date?”

Lin’s face lit up bright red. “Wh- what? No- no we’re just friends. We’re going to the dance as friends. Not a date. Why would I be going on a date with Tenzin?”

“Because you have a huge crush on him?,” Su said knowingly, as if this should have been obvious.

“No! No I don’t! Who told you that anyways?”

Su rolled her eyes. “Nobody told me, silly! I figured it out myself. You make it pretty obvious, you know.”

“No I do not! I do not make it obvious because I do not have a crush on Tenzin!”

Su sighed. It appeared she was going to have to bring in the big guns.

“Hey Mom! Does Lin have a crush on Tenzin?,” she shouted down to Toph in the kitchen.

“Su! What are you doing?,” Lin asked her sister angrily, a warning tone in her voice.

Toph laughed. “Well duh! She’s had a crush on him since she was like, what? Five? Six?”

Lin’s face was growing redder by the minute. “Mom! Why would you say that? I. Do. Not. Have. A. Crush. On. Tenzin.” 

“Sorry baby girl. Deny it all you want, but your heartbeat always goes crazy for that airhead. Don’t worry, he likes you back,” Toph called up to them from the kitchen.

“What?,” Lin shrieked, although she couldn’t deny that she didn’t entirely hate the idea. She more than just not hated it. She actually… well she could actually get used to the idea. Tenzin having a crush on her. 

Su giggled. “Keep still, I’m trying to do your makeup. Unless you want me to poke you in the eye with this thing,” she joked, waving the mascara wand in front of her face. 

Lin rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I would mind having my eyes poked out right about now. And maybe gag me with a spoon while you’re at it.” 

Five minutes and lots of eye goop later, Lin had been transformed into a thing of beauty. That’s not to say that she wasn’t already beautiful as she was, but it wasn’t as if Lin put a ton of effort into her appearance on a daily basis. She told herself that it was because she had more important things to worry about, but in reality it was mostly because she always felt as if she couldn’t really pull it off. 

“Here! All done! You look absolutely gorgeous, Tenzin is going to love it,” Su told her with pride. 

Lin took a look at herself in the mirror. Her sister hadn’t been lying. Her dark hair was done up in a low bun at the base of her neck with a braided crown circling her head. A blue lotus blossom poked out from behind her ear to match the shade of the shadow on her eyes. Her lips were glossy, and her cheeks blushed a faint pink.

She looked fantastic. 

“Wow, Su. I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”

“My pleasure!,” she replied with a smile.

“I’m gonna go put on my dress. How about you go downstairs and help Mom figure out the camera?” 

Su gasped audibly as Lin emerged from the top of the stairs several minutes later. Her beautiful blue qipao dress perfectly matched the flower tucked behind her ear, and it made her look and feel like a star. 

“How do I look?,” she asked nervously. 

“Wow, Lin. You look amazing!,” Su exclaimed.

Toph walked up to where her daughter was standing and cupped her face with her hands, tracing her features softly with the tips of her fingers. She had to reach up and pull her face down to her level, as Lin had undergone quite the growth spurt within the past few years and had shot up well above her chronically short mother. 

“Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.”

Toph began to tear up a little. “I can’t believe my baby girl is all grown up. Where does the time go? It feels like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms for the very first time.”

“Yeah baby girl, where does the time go?,” Su repeated in a light mocking tone, although there was no real malice behind it. 

“You’re growing up too, little miss beauty parlour,” Lin reminded her sister with a laugh, but she was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. All of a sudden, the nerves she had been keeping at bay all came flooding back to her. 

“He’s here! Okay, you guys cannot embarrass me.”

Toph threw up her hands defensively. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Mom, that means you can’t try and interrogate him like he’s some criminal. And Su, if you mention anything about this being a date or how I have a crush on him, I’m going to have to kill you later,” she warned her family. 

“Got it. Scout’s honour,” Toph swore.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Su agreed reluctantly. 

Lin took a deep breath and opened up the door. 

“Wow, you look fantastic!,” Tenzin exclaimed, blushing. 

Lin began to blush herself. Tenzin had gotten pretty dressed up. She was surprised to see him in a suit, normally he wouldn’t be caught dead in one unless his parents forced him to. 

“You look pretty good yourself,” she complimented him. 

Su waggled her eyebrows suggestively behind Tenzin’s back, and Lin shot her a warning look.

“So, Tenz. Bring my daughter home in one piece, will ya? We kind of like her around here.”

“Oh yeah, of course Aunt Toph!”

Toph raised one eyebrow at him.

“Oh- uhhh- I mean- uhhhh- yes. Yes ma’am. I will do that,” he stammered. 

“Good man,” Toph validated him with a nod of her head, apparently unable to resist an opportunity to take a power trip. 

“Let’s take pictures, and then you guys can go have your fun,” Su giggled. 

Lin rolled her eyes at her sister, but obliged to take a few cheesy photos of her and Tenzin posing together. 

“Alright, we better get going or we’re going to be late,” Tenzin warned.

“Right. Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours, bye!,” she said, waving goodbye to her mother and sister. 

“Have fun, kiddo! Don’t spike any punch, at least not without me there to make fun of the aftermath!” 

“Bye Lin! Bye Tenzin! Have fun on your date!,” Su called out as the door slammed shut.

Lin shot a look at her sister, but it was too late. Tenzin had heard.

“D- date? Is this a date?”

Lin’s face burned bright red. “I mean- n- no. Unless you want it to be?”

Tenzin went quiet for a moment, as if he were thinking it over.

“Yes, yes I do. I do want this to be a date. But I mean, only if you want it to be.”

“I think I do.”

Tenzin’s entire face lit up, and Lin felt herself begin to grin as well. Perhaps school dances weren’t so terrible after all.

[marvelous-space-nerd]

My dearest Bee

Hi dear tumblr people! I wrote a thing and I quite like it,,

Summary: Time travel, is, well something. Who would've thought that you would get stuck in the 1800's?? Well here you are, part of the Van der Linde gang, ready to face the past.

First chapter can be read as a stand alone chapter. It takes place a few years after Isaac died. The relationship between the reader and Arthur is platonic. Enjoy!!

ao3

My dearest Bee,

So I hope these letters- I can’t call them letters if they’re in a book right?- Anyways, I hope these will find you, I hope you’re home, safe. I hope you saw your dog again, I miss her. I have a horse now though! Maybe I’ll name her after you, or just wasp. If I remember correctly you weren’t the biggest fan of wasps. But really, I’m not sure if we timetraveld or were transported to another universe where everything just started like 100 years later, the latter case making it a whole lot harder for you to find this. I just really hope you’ll find this against all odds, because I said I’d write to you if I made it. And I did! I guess. After the whole thing blew up some cowboys found me, I think they call themselves the Van der Linde gang? But yeah, they feed me and gave me a bed for the small price of doing some chores. I’d like to do more though, did you know that the 1800’s are really boring even though you can die at any second? It’s spicy but in the wrong way. I’d like you to know though that it’s not all bad here. People are lovely when they’re not trying to shoot you. You should see a campfire evening- hell any evening- here.

Yours always,

(Y/N)

“(Y/N) get off your lazy ass and do the chores we asked you to do!”

“Mister Morgan! No need to yell, I got it perfectly under control. I was just, taking a break, that's all. Everyone who works all day has the right to take a break.”

“Boy as much as we want it workers are exploited ‘till they fall to the ground face first. You however are not so-” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes before speaking agian. Softer this time than the louder tone he was using first. “get to work, please.”

“Fine fine, but-”

“There better leave something good out of that big mouth of yours.”

“Hey that's just rude! But I want one of you lot to teach me anything. I can’t even ride a horse for Christ's sake.”

“I still don’t get how you can’t kiddo.”

“I told you I lost my memory at the explosion, maybe I lost my skills too.” You said avoiding his piercing gaze. Nothing is better at covering up lies than staring at rocks being sad over the skills you’ve lost.

“And we all know about that blatant lie.” Fuck, maybe rocks aren’t good at covering up.

“It isn’t-”

“Boy I don’t give a damn, you could work on your handwriting though, you’re almost worse than John. But fine, when you’re done with your chores I'll teach you to ride.” He said, finally giving in.

“Yay!” You said while doing little hand clapping motion. “I won’t disappoint, I promise. I’m a fast learner!” You said with smiling eyes

“And how’d you find out you were a fast learner boy?” He spoke out as he raised his eyebrows, just enough for you to feel them piercing right through you, poking at all the holes in your lie. You thought you’d last at least a few months, well here you are, exactly one month deep in this shithole being caught red handed.

“Fuck” Is all you managed to cram out while your eyes lost all their focus. You being back in your own mind instead of the wild world.

It made the silence hard. The only sound that of the other gang members and the birds and the bees to give you something to focus on. It’s so hard out here, no amount of scouts will ever prepare one for the real wild.vIt’s much scarier out here. The real wild is the place where you die if you trip over the wrong rock. The scouts will make sure the rock isn’t even there. Every bird will just put down another rock and god I want the silence broken, just as broken as my lie is.

“I know there’s probably a reason you’re not telling us anything.” Athur said, as he moved closer, his eyes smaller. Like they could see right in his head “You can’t hide forever, not who you are.”

“...”

“Use your words boy”

“I’m sorry, Mister Morgan, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You’ll figure it out, but first geT your ass back to woRK.” His voice became louder this time, I mean this was the third time he asked. He put his hand on your shoulder, shoving you away from your shared tent towards the hay bales you were supposed to move. A bit harder than anyone in the twenty-first century would’ve done, but for Arthur it was just a friendly push.

“I will, I will mister Morgan!” You said trying to act cheerful. Arthur made a “tsk” sound and waved you off, absolutely done, it seemed. You moved to the hay bales that were still in the wagon, ready to be fed to the horses.

The hay bales were heavy, yet they seemed lighter than they were a month ago. Your hands weren’t soft no more and being covered in dirt and dust wasn’t rare anymore. The luxuries that the modern world gave you disappeared the moment you decided that Bee was the one who should go home. One to run to the portal the moment it opens, one to pull the lever and jump through afterwards. Both of you knew that people don’t want you touching their stuff, let alone interdimensional portals or time machines. You knew someone would be quick to show up the moment you turned it on. It was surprising to see the portal become unstable, blinking in and out, in and out of existence. It left you with 2 choices. Option a: jump in it praying it would still transport you back home, back to all you knew not leaving you in the empty pocket of a closed portal. Or option b: run away for the inevitable explosion.

Gods you hated thinking about it. It played and twisted your mind. You couldn’t even talk about it, no accessible therapists in the wild west. And you’d prefer not to tell anyone you’re a helpless time traveler. Stuck in 1895 traveling with a gang of outlaws. A surely unique situation only you could get yourself in. You don’t even remember what you chose. You just remembered waking up surrounded by a bunch of cowboys.

“And how is our newest member doing?” The man's smooth and easy voice was easily recognizable. Dutch Van der Linde. Isn’t it ironic that he has a dutch surname and that his parents called him, well, Dutch. It’s a question that always on your mind, why his parents did that and if it’s iconic or just stupid. Dutch was one of the first people who introduced himself, right after Arthur- who was very inclined on being called Mister Morgan- and Hosea. The trio who showed you the wild west wasn’t all bad.

“Dutch! It is absolutely lovely to see you.” You said while putting the last hay bale down. A little bit of healthy sweat decorating your face. “I am doing absolutely great. Arthur- Mister Morgan is actually going to teach me how to ride a horse when I’m done.” You said while eyeing Arthur. Clearly not being amused with the situation. “Eh, he said yes, it’s his problem now.”

“I’m surprised you got through that thick skull of his!” He said with a smile, each word a little louder than the last. He clapped his hand on your shoulder as he let out a little chuckle.

“I think he likes me even though he won’t admit it actually.” You lied, confidence was half of the battle, as they say.

“I think I don’t you annoying little bastard.” Arthur said, joining the conversation. Dutch clearly talks loud enough to make sure any gossip subject will show up to the gossip. Definitely not the fact that you made eye contact with him “Now get to your horse before I change my mind.”

“Arthur! Oh shit- Mister Morgan! I’ll be there before they can even give me a speeding ticket” You said, maybe it was a bit too modern this time, but isn’t the wild west about living on the edge?

“You speak a strange version of english boy.” Arthur said. “You know how to saddle up a horse right?”

“Hosea taught me so I could help around with chores. And Wasp already had a saddle when we found her so I’m all good to go Mister Morgan!”

“Great, now go get her saddled up so we can go.” He said, motioning towards the horses.

“See you in a flash.” You said while snapping your fingers, forming finger guns to point back to Arthur. You dismissed the look of confusion on their faces, clearly not used to the finger gun motion. You walked off to Wasp and gave her a little pet and a snack. As you were putting her saddle on you overheard the rest of the conversation between Arthur and Dutch.

“We can both see you have a soft spot for the boy, Arthur.” Dutch said with a chuckle.

“And we both know youngins have great hearing and that he’s spying on our little conversation.” Arthur said in response, eyeing you. You kept saddling Wasp up as if you heard nothing. Let the deaf chicken inside of you arise and all. Hoping they’d say more.

“I know Arthur, I know.” Dutch said with a chuckle. About to walk away. “Oh before you go, he’s a kid Arthur, don’t be too hard on him and be carefull.” You didn’t think you were a kid, maybe not a full grown adult, but at least you were half an adult, no kid. But you weren’t going to say anything, you were eavesdropping after all. “He’s all yours, (Y/N)!” He yelled at you, before leaving for real. You turned around and gave him a smile and a quick wave. Arthur walked

“Take her by the reins, we're walking to an open spot first.”

“Shoar '' You said, absolutely trying to mimic the western accent you hear all around here. Apparently it was just bad enough to make Arthur chuckle.

“We’ll make a cowboy outta ya yet.”

Traveling in the wild was absolutely amazing for the most part. Abandoned camps are in fact disgusting. They leave their trash! And it’s not like they cleaned their cans so it smells. But besides that the mostly untouched nature was beautiful and the air was so clean. It all felt much more, how to put it, real. No factories everywhere, no house on every corner of the street, just, the world how mother nature intended it. It was peaceful. There was an open field about ten minutes walking from camp, and that’s where you arrived. Reins in hand.

“You ready to go (Y/N)?” Arthur asked. You put your hand on your hips looking at your horse with abosute pride and stupidity because how to fuck were you going to do this?

“Absolutely.” You said. “Remind me how do I get on again?”

The words were taken by the wind as they made room for silence. Arthur’s expression could be described as a mix between surprise, disbelief and the OhMyGodAreYouStupid emotion. Yet it all quickly made room for a smile, or a laugh. He could definitely be laughing at you.

“I didn’t expect to need to teach an 18 year old how to get on a damn horse.”

There was no fire behind the words, but as they say, fight (fake) fire with (fake) fire.

“And I didn’t expect to end up here for the life of so I did not think horse riding would be a viable skill to know. So get your pretty ass in the saddle so I can.. mimic you or something.” You said making a hand gesture at Arthur’s horse.

He gave you one more smile as he turned to his horse, getting on slower than usual. He got on on the right side of his horse so he put his right foot in the styrup. He lifted his body up effortlessly and as elegant as a western outlaw could get. And there he was, in the saddle, in full western glory.

“Looks easy enough.” You said, an absolute lie as it turned out. The stirrups were way higher than expected, and the getting on could be called anything but elegant or the cool western movies you saw. Turns out your own body is heavy and there’s quite a lot on a horse to get stuck behind. But you ended up in the saddle, full western glory.

The rest of the riding lesson went about the same. Arthur did something really cool looking and whenever you did it it felt like you were some old slime blob.

“Squeeze your lower legs to get her to move, (Y/N)!”

“I am this horse is just broken- OHMYGOD SHe’s moving!”

“Never blame the horse for the rider's lack of skill, boy. Now steering.”

He explained it all to you. How to properly hold the reins and how to use them, how to do it with one hand and how to do it with two. Western and English style he called it. He taught you how to move your horse around and what not to do. The one and most important thing being to have no doubts and no fear. The horse will sense it.

It felt odd at first, to have control over another living being. It wasn’t easy no, Arthur had to tell you how to correct your posture every 5 minutes. But after a while of correcting everything you started to get confident. It started getting easier to steer. Every muscle of yours was getting tired but it was so worth it. Maybe one day you’ll look like an actual movie star.

Once you got the basics down you could go a bit harder. From a walk to a trot, a canter and even a little gallop. And as the wind brushed over your face blowing your hair away, it felt like something the 21st century didn’t have a lot of. Galloping through the grass hearing every step as more and more grass was thrown into the air. Arthur still giving you instructions on what to watch out for, riding by your side in case of emergency. And the horse, Wasp, god she deserved a cooler name. Her big strong muscles moving beneath you, her breath as she was running, the heat radiating from her skin, gods it felt so great. No modern bike or car could ever top this feeling of freedom.

Cars and bikes could however top the feeling of falling off. You lost control quite a few times, losing balance, a rearing horse throwing you right where you belong. But nothing modern could beat that feeling of getting on again. Of it working when you tried it for a second time. Hell, maybe the third time. Arthur was there to make sure you were okay, and you could have another go. And another. And just one more for good measure. Lying on the ground trying to see if this time you did break something wasn’t a strange thing after today. Hell it happened at least every hour. But determining it as fine and getting on again, it felt like a lot.

You didn’t even realize it was getting late until the sky started turning orange. The normally so bright sun started becoming more yellow and stopped burning at your eyes. Instead it just seemed pretty. The clouds became yellow just like the sun, and the sky turned a bit darker with every passing minute. Yellow and orange were happy colours, maybe this was an good omen, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t think you’d die somewhere in a ditch. Bee would be proud to see you haven’t given up. You knew that for once.

“Time isn’t a real thing Mister Morgan, I swear.” You said looking at the sunset.

“Call me Arthur.” Said Arthur Morgan, though guy in the west in dire need of respect. Arthur “You call me mister Morgan boy” Morgan.

“Wait, did someone hide weed somewhere because this must be a hallucination! Can I really call you Arthur?”

“Wouldn't have said it otherwise boy.” He hissed, the mister Morgan just wouldn't leave Arthur.

“Well, Arthur, thank you. I’m happy I only have to say half the syllables now.”

“Shoar thing. Now let’s go back to camp before they send out a search party to see if you haven’t broken anything today.” He said jokingly

“I would never! I am obviously the best horse rider in the entire United states!” You said sarcastically, if you fake confidence long enough, it might become real.

Arthur laughed at that. “Well see about that boy. Now let’s go, we should be there soon considering you can ride now.”

“Of course, good plan. I can show off my skills now!”

“Shoar, go ahead boy. Don’t make your entrance too dramatic.”

“I will, I absolutely will. Oh and Arthur?”

“Hm?” He said, quite relaxed actually.

“Thank you, for everything today. I’m happy you let me bother you today.” You said with a proud smile.

“You’re welcome boy. Bother me all you want, we ain’t getting rid of you just yet.” He said as he ruffled your hair a bit. “Now let’s go home, I’m realll hungry.”

You absolutely couldn’t hide the smile on your face. “Hell yeah, I’m starving.” You said as you kicked the stirrups making Wasp move, you rode to camp in the beautiful orange sky. Maybe he did actually care about you, just a little.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[mudzdale]

u kno what screw it. nuzleaf supermysterydungeon hc timeline

-seedot leaves home and evolves into nuzleaf (around 18 yrs old equivalent). home is where he picked up his southern mannerisms and upbringing, which stick to him like glue despite the extensive travels and experiences he accumulates through his life

-spends ~15 years travelling the world

-encounters dark matter in an evil forest. details unclear but it’s because he opted to delve deeper into what was already a pretty ill-advised exploration to begin with

-agrees to partnership (read: yields to possession) with dark matter, having been promised power, influence, and respect, and they begin to travel the world with nuzleaf as a vessel

-dm already has a few full vessels, including yveltal, but dm and nuzleaf vibe the best. nuzleaf is given responsibility for many of dm's errands

-they encounter and recruit the beheeyem at some point, who become favored vessels due to their preexisting teamwork and psychic power. they were also a voluntary possession, although theyre not as ambitious. they prioritize the safety of their trio

-when a vessel is possessed by dm, they experience the voidlands for themselves--not sent there through being turned to stone, but thru visions such as nightmares, etc. dm uses this as leverage, to threaten its vessels with what will happen if they step out of line, but also to just. make em upset. fuel the stone-making rampage with bad vibes

-anyways. dm at this point is aware of mew having been reborn ~10 years ago, and with more of its plans coming into place, it wants to start tracking down the child heroes. it has nothing on the status of the human hero at this point

-nuzleaf tracks mew to serene village relatively quickly, but doesnt make his presence known

-having ‘secured’ mew’s location, the vessels of dm begin a globetrotting search for the human child, who they assume to be reincarnated as an infant the same way mew was

-dm eventually connects the dots and figures if mew ~just happened~ to wind up next to the sacred spring, the human likely will as well

-about 2 years have passed since dm came into the picture? it has also been recruiting a few more vessels during this time

-nuzleaf returns to serene village and sets up shop, establishing his presence as a villager, while the beheeyem orbit nearby, selecting a mountain cave to settle in (much like their old home)

-nuzleaf and the beheeyem begin to roll out on extensive forays, scouting the world around serene village for signs of the human hero

-it is on one of these scouting trips that they encounter a young pokemon, far from civilization and indeed any other living creatures, close to a small waterfall

-the human child has only partial amnesia at the time, and knows about the purpose to their reincarnation--they have only been recently recreated as a pokemon, at the top of a nearby mountain, and experienced no childhood like mew did. they retain much knowledge and maturity from their past life

-when approached by nuzleaf and co, they all kind of recognize one another--nuzleaf knows this is their missing puzzle piece, and the human can pretty quickly attribute the group’s suspicious behavior to dark matter

-dm/nuzleaf's intentions are to overpower the hero and schlep them up to revelation mountain asap, securing the goods for a fast and hard takeover. the dm gang and hero get into a scuffle over this

-beheeyem's psychic blast renders the hero truly amnesiac this time (although their personality remains largely untouched)

-nuzleaf's mind has been largely overshadowed by dm through this entire process, but upon the beheeyem’s report of amnesia, a moment of "good" nuzleaf shines through, and he decides to take the hero under his wing instead. dm is amenable to this plan, because drawing out its takeover over a length of time will generate more negative emotion from across the world, adding to its collective power

-end scene. script continues on as usual, nuzleaf gets left by dm to largely keep living pretty normally. nuzleaf is willfully ignorant of his growing attachment to the child, believing he is just secure in the knowledge on having an important asset in hand (when in fact hes happy to have this new family member. hes Soft)

-sometimes dm's presence grows heavy in his mind, affecting his mood and opinion of the child sourly (not that they ever know, he is very good at hiding this). "good” nuzleaf is largely content with this lifestyle however

-although hero and partner's departure to lively town was not met with utmost delight on his part, nuzleaf ultimately welcomed their absence as it made his errands for dm MUCH easier. less sneaking around to do, and allowed him to lay a trap at revelation mountain

-at this stage, different vessels were tending to turning to stone various pokemon across the world, especially the big hundos like legendaries (latias and latios, for instance, were attacked by fast-flying vessels). nuzleaf is set on the very precise tasks of setting up their fall guy(s) and ensuring hero stays within reach

-although nuzleaf orchestrated that krookodile's rampage to serene village would attract the attention of the expedition society, it was a coincidence that hero/partner were on the pursuit team. he intended to run to lively town and fetch them himself if necessary, crying havoc

-after the pursuit team get stone'd, nuzleaf and yveltal storm serene village, before collecting the beheeyem and moving on to lively town. they continue to work and hit established communities while hero and partner are in the voidlands, although yveltal takes its leave sometime during that to start attacking more big hundos

-espurr is caught right before nuzleaf and co storm the village, hiding in the bushes atop the mountain. nuzleaf doesnt initially expect to recruit her, but dm suggested her powers might be of benefit, given that the other beheeyem might have their hands full. he doesnt have to do much threatening before espurr keys in and agrees

-espurr and the "manipulation" of the expedition society are nuzleaf's jurisdiction as well, assisted by the beheeyem

-its during this period that the turncoat beheeyem starts showing hesitation. nuzleaf is on it like a fly on doodoo but obv hides it perfectly. starts laying the prehistoric ruins trap

-its not just dm speaking when they spring the prehistoric ruins trap--nuzleaf is exposing how he’s the kind of person who might agree to a partnership with dark matter in the first place. that said, hes not intrinsically THAT mean, and his evil factor is REALLY amped up by the possession. but its still largely nuzleaf in the driver’s seat at this point

-again back to the script. dm tosses its vessels around where they need to be, up until it fully takes over their minds and has them fight hero and co. after their defeat, dm is (temporarily) kicked out of their brains. its PIIIISSED about this and whisks the vessels into the tree of life for what essentially will be a slow and painful death, which is of course subverted by the heroes

-yveltal warps the vessel crew to the bottom of the tree of life, seeking oxygen, where the group stops to decide whether to take action or just give up. most are inclined to the latter, but nuzleaf is determined to go back and help the heroes until dm stops him directly. the others come around to his point of view, and yveltal returns them to the top of the tree

-with dm fully out of his mind now, nuzleaf is real sorry :( distracting the enemy from his kid for even one moment was worth a thousand ends in the voidlands to him

-after dm’s defeat, nuzleaf and co find themselves returning to consciousness in the forest, not far from where the heroes are similarly recovering. before they can get their bearings, arceus slips quietly out of the woods, escorting yveltal away with it for a Very Long Talk. the rest of the crew are scared out of their minds, but in an act of forgiveness, arceus refrains from passing Judgement on them

-with yveltal indisposed, the vessels are again left to follow nuzleaf’s guidance. they find the restored turncoat beheeyem and make up with one another, and decide to quietly withdraw and see what they can do to make up for their sins

-after apologizing to serene village and associated victims, nuzleaf roughs it in the wilderness for a bit, declining the beheeyem’s invitation to their mountain cave. he wants some time to himself (in fact the first he’s had since he encountered dm in the woods, so long ago). he orbits close to the village, however, seeking a glimpse of the hero

-after learning of the partner/mew’s disappearance through the serene village grapevine, nuzleaf vows to do whatever is necessary to help his kid, however he can. the beheeyem are of a similar mind. they get in touch with the expedition society asap

-follow script, etc etc. nuzleaf’s natural stealthiness is of benefit when it becomes necessary to track the hero’s movements

-after the partner is restored, the beheeyem return to their mountain home again, deciding amongst themselves what their next move will be. nuzleaf tries to leave serene village for good, having done his bit, and wanting to spare the hero any further angst regarding his presence. however, the hero stops him and convinces him to stay and recreate their little family home, which nuzleaf accepts

-partner and the hero return to the expedition society for a couple of years, conducting explorations and making frequent visits home. mawile comes up with the idea to plant an expedition society branch on revelation mountain, after she discovers that not only has the sacred spring not lost its power, but that the luminous water there is slowly returning. the site is marked a protected location, and the child heroes are put in charge of the new branch

-the beheeyem, the other village children, and the heroes’ parents are among those recruited to the new branch. the beheeyem handle most of the admin work, and the schoolchildren embark on a variety of explorations as they grow up, travelling between the city and village locations

-hero and partner more often than not form an exploration team with their dads, making a four-person expedition group that goes out for long expeditions. the kids are able to experience more quality time with their parents, carracosta can spend time protecting his child, and nuzleaf can sate his wanderlust without abandoning the ones he loves. its a solution that keeps everybody happy

-and they all live happily ever after :)

[kraviolis]

chapter 4 of the hl:a soundtrack coming out got me thinking abt this au i made for hl where the basic gist is “gman learns what the magic of friendship really is” (i wrote a lot abt it in discord and im gonna just c+p it here sjhkdfgksdf)

basically, post-canon au, gman gets his eldritch powers taken away and has to team up with alyx and gordon to find the motherfucker who took em because in the wrong hands they could destroy the universe and gman has to learn how to humble himself. or maybe gman just gets "let go" or takes basically like a forced sabbatical.

i just want gman to get "humbled" by gordon's crowbar and then actually become friends with him and alyx, basically.

also thinking abt like.... the whole situation with "post canon". with 19 year old alyx traveling 5 years into the future and destroying the borealis and eli being alive. just thinking about how interesting it would be if alyx was just suddenly 5 years younger and the last thing she remembered before being put in stasis or whatever was saving eli. and she and gordon can bond over playing catch-up (though her version is far less extreme) and gordon has to build up that friendship again. and she and gordon are still linked thru the vortessence, as it transcends time and space, and thats how gordon was able to get her back, albeit not the alyx he knew.

just really like. imagining an opening that sets up the world building. it's been 4 months since they destroyed the borealis and got alyx back. eli is alive. they're slowly rebuilding the world, starting with opening communications across the world. it's taking a while-- eli, alyx, and kleiner are all working hard to get a bunch of satellites into orbit to be able to contact folks across continents.

they have farms growing and the main base of operations for Black Mesa East have been moved to approx. where austria once was. gordon and alyx are walking the streets that are lively and loud and happy and he's talking about how the world used to be. alyx smells freshly baked bread for the first time in her life and they find themselves in the middle of what used to be a pub and is now... honestly its still a pub. just wasn't in use for a while, but it is now.

dusty bottles have been dragged out and sealed bags of flour and salt and containers of clean water were found in the basement and the woodfire stove is being managed by a vort. they stop for a while and have a drink and talk with other folks. gordon is withdrawn from everyone else bcus he's an introvert and also it's kinda hard to talk to people when everyone keeps staring at you and muttering your name like you're a saint and they're in a church.

barney shows up and gordon smirks as he offers him a beer, making him go "aw man, now i owe you another one." and they chat in their own little world and catch up because barney's been busting his ass trying to set up protections and training for citizens.

but gordon overhears some folks talking about the abandoned lab just outside of the town, untouched by the combine all this time. they also mention hearing strange noises. and gordon meets barney's eyes and barney just. sighs and goes "alright, fine, put those puppy dog eyes away. i'll let eli and isaac know. i assume alyx is comin' with?"

alyx is filled in and the three of them suit up to go check it out.

the entire lab is decrepit and everything is covered in dirt and dust and rust. gordon and alyx go on ahead while barney searches the place more thoroughly, trying to find supplies they might want or search the still-functioning computers.

they keep going into the lab and it just gets deeper and darker and gordon is struggling to chill out because its starting to feel more and more like black mesa down here. alyx hates the dark too and sticks close to him.

but then she finds something, seemingly important, and starts to check it out while gordon walks around and scouts the room. he hears a noise, a clang, and apparently alyx doesnt hear it. he follows the noise into a pitch black hallway offshooting from the room alyx is in.

he hears the noise again, a clanging thud, like a something falling against a metal floor. or something slamming itself against a door.

gordon readies his crowbar. he can see the door it's going to come from, the rusted metal creaking with each thud. it slams again one, twice, and then the door bursts open. gordon immediately sees a humanoid shape in the dark, thinks its a zombie, but realizes it's movements are too calculated to be mindless. its a person, he cant make out any details but that's a person down here-- a person that immediately scrambles back from the door just in time to avoid getting grabbed by a headcrab that lunges out of the room too.

gordon doesn't hesitate to take several steps forward, ready to beat it to death and save them, but he watches the figure quickly stand and slam their heel into the headcrab. he hears the snap of bone and the squish of flesh and sees the headcrab twitch, struggling to move, before they do it again. the greenish yellow blood splatters against the metal floor.

the headcrab doesn't get back up and the figure sniffs, adjusts their clothing in the same mechanical, calculated way that gordon struggles to place. its familiar but not enough for him to recognize just from body language alone.

gordon remembers his flashlight, then, and clicks it on. he sees the mess of a headcrab on the floor, a shoe covered in its blood, and slowly travels up to the figures face. his stomach sinks when he sees the back of his head, his usually perfectly-cut hair out of place and dirty. he adjusts his cuffs, his tie, smooths down his jacket lapels and turns around to look at gordon. his eyes are glowing in the dark of the hallway, pale blue and dreadful.

"ah..." the government man says, his eyes flashing to look gordon up and down. "mr... freeman. you seem to have... caught, me, at a rather... unfortunate, time."

and gordon... is frozen. this is so far out of left field that his isn't entirely sure if it's real.

gordon closes his eyes, shakes his head, and looks back up but the man is still there eyes blank and clinical.

"mr. freeman," he starts again. "you--"

the man is interrupted by another headcrab lunging from the dark. it latches onto the arm he raised and he grunts, wrestling with it for a moment. he slams back against the wall, the thud echoing loudly throughout the hallway. he manages to throw the creature off with a noise of pain, and before it can right itself and lunge again, a gunshot echoes and the headcrab falls limp.

"gordon!" alyx cries, running down the hallway. "why are you just standing-- ...there." she falls quiet when she takes in the other person with them, her brow furrowing and her eyes flickering across him, taking in every inch of detail and every observable weakness-- she does it with every potential threat.

"ah--" the government man winces, leaning heavily against the the wall, holding his arm. he's bleeding, red soaking into his blue suit, and gordon is at a complete loss of words. "ms. vance... what a... pleasure, to see you again."

and both gordon and alyx just stand there, staring, watching the man who has tormented them stand there and bleed red as if.... as if he were nothing but a human being.

"what. the. fuck," alyx hisses.

[starryknight09]

To save a life - Part 2

Febuwhump Day 26: recovery

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“He’s asking for you.” Pepper said quietly as she came up behind him.

“He shouldn’t be.” He said, his voice dead, like the rest of him felt, as he stood staring out the floor to ceiling windows but not seeing.  

“That doesn’t change the fact that he is.” Pepper sighed.

“I can’t.” Tony said, voice breaking.  He scrunched his eyes closed to try to keep the tears at bay and decided he preferred the darkness of his eyelids.  The bright summer sunshine mocked him.

“He needs you to be there for him now.” Pepper said gently, but it was still a reprimand.

“I know.” He did.  “But…I can’t.  I can’t face him.  After what I did him...” He took a few short breaths to try to keep from losing it again.  God, if he couldn’t even talk about it, how could Pepper expect him to stare the evidence of it in the face.

“He doesn’t blame you honey.”

“I know.” He practically spat.  Because he did know.  Even as he’d been cutting through perfectly healthy flesh, he’d known Peter wouldn’t blame him for it because he was Peter Parker, the most amazing, bright, compassionate person Tony had ever met.

Pepper sighed and Tony couldn’t quite help adding on, “But he should.”

The image of Peter lying in the water begging him not to hurt him flashed through his mind.  He gasped and rubbed at his face to try to cover it.

But of course Pepper knew him better than that.  Her hand came up to rest against his back in silent support.  After a long minute of comfortable silence, Tony managed to get a grip again and Pepper spoke, “He doesn’t blame you because he knows you just did what you had to, and he loves you.  He’s worried about you.”

“He shouldn’t be worrying about me.” He shook his head.  “He should be focusing on himself.”

“Helen said she expects he’ll make a complete recovery without any deficits within a month or two.  His healing factor really is amazing.”

“I know.” Cho had told him the same thing a couple hours ago.  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  Thank god for that.  If Peter had residual numbness or an inability to flex his ankle or something like it, Tony didn’t think he would’ve been able to look him in the eye ever again.

“It’s been two days.  You’re really not going to go see him?” Pepper prodded.  Peter may have been in the medbay for the last two days, but Tony knew this was the first time he’d been awake.  Even though he hadn’t been physically with him, he’d been closely monitoring his recovery.

He shook his head at Pepper’s question.  He couldn’t see him yet.  He wasn’t ready.  Even though he knew it was terrible to not come when his kid was hurt and asking for him.  But he just couldn’t make his feet move toward the door.

“If you’re not going to go to your suffering child’s bedside,” Pepper said, pulling out the big guns and ouch that hurt, “then at least take a shower.  You reek.”

He probably did.  He hadn’t showered since before the mission.  Or really slept.  Or ate much, besides whatever Pepper and Rhodey had shoved down his throat.  Time had just passed in a surreal blurry fog and it continued to do so.

“I will.” He mumbled.

“Good.” Pepper sighed.  “I’m going to go tell Peter you’re not coming.”

Tony bit his lower lip so hard he almost drew blood.  Right as he heard Pepper open the door, he told her, “Tell him I’m sorry.”

He heard her pause in the doorway for a few seconds until she finally answered, “No.  You’ll have to tell him that yourself.”  The door clicked closed softly behind her but she may as well have slammed it.

Tony had done some pretty appalling things in his life, but he’d never been as ashamed as he was in that moment.

**********

He showered.  And afterwards, he slept.  Because he couldn’t handle another conscious second with himself and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.  

It turned out to be a mistake.  His dreams tormented him.  Peter was trapped with the water rising, unable to get free, and he was drowning.  Drowning.  

And then everything seemed to rewind and the water was lower but Peter was stuck again with the threat of death still so close Tony felt like he could touch it and Peter was begging him not to take his leg.  Pleading over and over.  Please.  Please.  I don’t want to.  Please don’t.  Please.

Tony’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, gasping as if he’d run a marathon.  His shirt was soaked in sweat.  Great.  He’d need to take another shower.

“Tones?”

His gaze flicked over to the doorway where Rhodey stood, probably what had woken him in the first place.

“What time is it?” He croaked.  His brain felt like it was in a fog.  He had the familiar sleep hangover feeling from finally resting after going too long without it.

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Oh.” He had no clue what time the talk with Pepper had happened.

“What time did you fall asleep?”

“I don’t know.  What time did Pepper leave?” He knew Rhodey would know.  The two of them were probably in cahoots.

“Nine.”

He nodded.

“Did you get some good sleep?” Rhodey asked.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wake up. “I wouldn’t say good.  But I slept.  That’s got to count for something right?”

Rhodey gave him a half shoulder shrug.

“So are you here to yell at me too?” He asked as he stood.  If his best friend was going to give him the third degree, he needed coffee.

Rhodey crossed his arms over his chest.  Yep.  Looked to be the case.

“You need to get your head out of your ass and go see your kid.” Rhodey said like an order.

Tony walked right past him toward the kitchen.  This definitely called for coffee.

“Tony.” Rhodey sighed in disappointment but followed him.  “I’m not kidding.  You cut his leg off.  You can’t just disappear.”

“You’re right.” He spun to face Rhodey as he erupted.  “I cut his leg off!  I did that!  I did this to him.  My kid!  And now I’m supposed to go to him and what?  Pretend everything’s all good between us?  He should hate me.  He begged me not to do it.  Begged me and I didn’t listen.  I did it anyway.  Seeing me should be the very last thing he wants to do.  I don’t know how he could even bear to look at me.  It’ll probably traumatize him even more.”

Rhodey took the rant without twitching a single facial muscle.  “Are you done?” He asked calmly.

Tony huffed and turned back around to continue his trek to the coffeemaker.  He didn’t need the attitude from his friend and his outburst had left him feeling out of sorts.  He heard Rhodey following close behind, but when they got to the kitchen his friend just sat on the counter stool and watched as he slammed things around, making his coffee.

After he’d brewed a cup and shoved another angrily in front of Rhodey, his friend spoke again, “How long is this pity party going to go on for?”

Tony glared at him as he sipped his brew.

“Because we both know that’s what this is.” Rhodey kept going.  “And you should know better.  You’re a dad now.  You know that sometimes, actually a lot of times, you have to do things you don’t want to for the sake of your kids.”

“And you got this infinite wisdom from all your experience dealing with your own kids?” He snapped.

“Don’t be an asshole when I’m trying to help you.”

“Oh, is that what you’re trying to do here?”

“Yes.” Rhodey shook his head in consternation.  “You know, if you don’t go see him, you’re going to regret it.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“If you do, then why are you here instead in the medbay, holding your kid’s hand?”

“Because I can’t!” He yelled, slamming his hands down on the countertop.  Because he wasn’t strong enough.  He didn’t voice that part.  As he took a step back from the counter, from Rhodey, he made a fist with his left hand, trying to keep the sudden stress tremors at bay.  God, this always happened when it came to his kid.

“Tony.” Rhodey said with a sad sigh.  “I get it.  It’s hard.  I can’t even imagine how hard.  To have to do what you did.  But it’s over.  And neither of you are going to be able to move on if you don’t talk it out.”

Tony scoffed, opening and closing his fist as his other good hand massaged his wrist, as if that would help. “It’s that easy huh?”

Rhodey’s eyes narrowed as he watched him toy with his hand and answered distractedly, “No.  It’s hard.  I literally just said it was hard.  Did you not hear a single word that just came out of my mouth?”

Tony let go of his wrist and waved a hand in the air as he rolled his eyes.  “I got the gist.  You want me to go see the kid, so we can have a kumbaya moment and everything can go back to normal.  Is that about right?”

“Basically, yes.” Rhodey agreed and then took a long sip of his coffee, eyeing him over the lid.

Tony let out a heavy sigh.  He knew he wasn’t going to win this one and he was sick of arguing.  “Fine.” He agreed.

“Fine?” Rhodey repeated skeptically.  “So…you’ll go?  Just like that?”

“What can I say?  You’ve convinced me.” The words didn’t sound convincing even to him.

“Why do I feel like this is a trick?”

“Because you’re a suspicious person, borderlining on paranoid?

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s it.” Rhodey shook his head.

Tony shrugged.

“It just seems too easy.  I thought I’d have to drag you down there myself kicking and screaming.”

Tony rolled his eyes again and took a drink of coffee instead of responding.  As if Rhodey would actually be able to accomplish that.

“Ok.  Fine.  I’ll leave you alone if promise me you’ll head down to the kid’s room this afternoon.” Rhodey said.

Tony held a hand up in a mock boy scout salute.  “I promise.”

“Ok.  I’m going to choose to believe you.” Rhodey said even as he narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

Tony gave him the thumbs up while he took a drink of his coffee.

“I’m going to go, but I expect to hear you’re down there in the next couple hours.” Rhodey said, leaving his mostly untouched coffee mug on the counter.  “If you’re not, I’m going to have no choice but to bring in the big guns.”

Tony frowned as he watched his friend leave.  Big guns?  Pepper had already been up here.  Maybe he meant Morgan.  Her puppy dog eyes were almost impossible to resist.  Either way, he had no intention of going down to see Peter.  He knew Rhodey wouldn’t be surprised.  Tony knew he should feel guilty about lying to him and disappointing him, but by this point in their relationship, his friend was used to it.

**********

Tony was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling while the television droned on mindlessly in the background, when he heard his door open and slam closed.  He frowned, wondering for a second who it could be.  Pepper usually didn’t slam doors and it wasn’t Rhodey’s MO either.

“Stark!” The last voice he wanted to hear called out to him.  His eyes widened and he jackknifed up to a seated position as if he’d been electrocuted.

“May.” He said as he caught sight of her, stalking toward him like she was a lion in the savannah and he was a helpless zebra and not the head of the most successful company in the world and the savior of the universe.

“Uh…” He scrambled to a stand, not wanting to be sitting when she finally got to him.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you mister.” She wagged her finger at him.

He imagined she did.  He’d cut her kid’s leg off.  He’d been avoiding her almost as much as Peter, not wanting to hear all the terrible things he’d been thinking about himself come spewing out of her mouth.

“May.” He said, swallowing hard as he held both his hands up, palms out.  “I’m so so sorry.”

“You better be.” May glared at him.

“I am.  You have no idea how sorry I am.  If there’d been any other way I would’ve—”

“Hold on.” May interrupted, holding up a hand.  “You’re sorry for what you had to do to Peter?”

Tony faltered for a second before sputtering, “I-yes-I mean of-of course I am.  How could you think I wouldn’t be?”

“Tony.” May let out an exasperated sigh.  “I’m not mad at you for what you did.”

“You’re not?” He blinked in shock.

“No.  Of course not.” She shook her head.  “You did what you had to do.  Rhodey told me what happened.  If you hadn’t cut Peter free, he would’ve died.  I…” May closed her eyes as if to bolster herself before continuing, “Honestly, I’m grateful for you.”

Tony’s gaped at her.

“If it’d been me.  I don’t know if I would’ve been able to do what you did.  So thank you.  Thank you for saving my baby’s life.” May said, placing a hand on his shoulder to show her gratitude.

Tony didn’t know what to say.  She wasn’t reacting the way he’d thought she would and he was all kinds of confused.  “So…if you’re not mad at me about that, then what are you mad about?”

It was like a switch flipped.  May pulled her hand away and her face grew stormy again.  “Why am I mad?”

Tony knew hearing that question was never good.  It was one of Pepper’s favorite techniques to deal with him when he did something wrong.  He opened and closed his mouth but nothing came out, his usual quick wit failing him.

“Because you went through this traumatizing thing with my kid and then you ghosted him!” May yelled.

Oh.  That made sense.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“If you’re sorry, then why are you still here and not down there with him?” May crossed her arms.

“I just…I can’t face him.” He admitted.  “All of this is my fault.  I-I hurt him.  He begged me not to and…” He closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.  He didn’t want May to see him cry.  He could count on one hand the number of people who had ever witnessed that and he didn’t want to add May to that list.

“Tony.” May said, but her voice was soft.  

He shook his head as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.  

“Here.  Sit down.” May pressed down on his shoulders and he didn’t resist, sitting down on the couch.  After another few long seconds, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” May said slowly.  “You saved Peter’s life.  He knows that.  Of course he didn’t want you to," she hesitated for a second before continuing, “to do what you had to do.  But he was a scared kid, and you were the adult.  You did what he needed you to do to save his life.  You put his needs before everything else.” May reached out to grasp his hand.  “That’s what a parent does.  And I know we don’t really talk about it, but we all know that’s what you are to him.”

Tony nodded.  It was true.  He considered Peter his kid just as much as Morgan.

“And that means you need to show up.  Even when it’s hard.” May said.  “I shouldn’t need to tell you.  You know this.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, his throat still tight.  “I do.”

“Ok, so what are you going to do now?” May asked, squeezing his hand.

“I’m going to go talk to my kid.”

“There you go.” May smiled.

“Are you coming with me?” He asked, suddenly nervous at the prospect of facing Peter, the most unintimidating human on the planet.

“I think this is something you have to do yourself slugger.” May said patting the top of his hand and standing.  “But I will walk you down there, because I heard all about how you promised Rhodey you’d come and then never did.”

Tony huffed.  “Because that’s Rhodey.  I would never lie to you May.”

“Yeah ok you big schmoozer, let’s go.”

Tony didn’t argue.  He stood and followed her out.  He just hoped he’d be able to look at Peter without breaking down.

**********

May walked him all the way to Peter’s room in the medbay and waited until Tony turned the doorknob and took a step into the room before leaving him.  Wow, she really didn’t trust him, although he supposed he deserved it.

The lights in Peter’s room were dim and for a split second Tony held onto the hope that maybe Peter was asleep and he’d get a free pass.  But no such luck.

“Tony?” Peter slurred from the bed.  Seeing the evidence of what he’d done sent a shock of pain through his heart.  Peter was lying there because of him.  At least both his legs were still there, under the covers but clearly visible.  Thank god the reattachment had gone off without a hitch.

“Yeah kid, it’s me.” He answered softly, taking the empty seat next to Peter’s bed.  “How are you feeling?”

“Hmmm I’m ok.” Peter blinked owlishly at him a few times.  He was obviously on some good pain meds and Tony was glad.  He didn’t want him in any pain.  “Where have you been?”

He briefly thought about lying.  He could make up some excuse about some important Avengers or SI business he couldn’t avoid, but he didn’t want to do that.  Because the truth was none of those things would’ve ever kept him from being at his kid’s bedside and he didn’t want Peter to think otherwise.

“I’m sorry kid.” He said reaching out to hold Peter’s hand.  “I should’ve been here.  I just…  This was really hard for me.  Not as hard as it was for you obviously, but—” He ran a hand through his hair.  He was completely butchering this.  “I needed some time to process everything.  And I know it’s no excuse but—”

“It’s ok.  I understand.  It’s a lot.” Peter nodded gravely but his pupils were so small Tony wondered if he’d even remember this conversation.  “And I’m sorry too.”

“What are you sorry for?” Tony frowned.

“For being a baby.”

“What?” The kid wasn’t making sense.  Maybe he should’ve waited until Peter was on less pain medication to have this heavy conversation.

“When you had to…you know.  I was a baby about it.”

Tony’s jaw dropped before he managed to gather himself.  He shook his head.  “No no no.  You have nothing to be sorry for and you definitely weren’t a baby.”

“Yes I was.  I begged you not to do it like a scared little kid and then I cried.” Peter’s face crumpled and Tony’s heart broke.  He hadn’t heard the crying part, that must’ve come when he’d been underwater, but he could imagine it.  

“Ironman wouldn’t have cried.” Peter added, his shame clear and Tony couldn’t handle it.  Peter had lived through a trauma.  He’d had his leg cut off and he was ashamed he’d cried?

“Um, yeah, Ironman definitely would’ve cried.” Tony said, brushing his hand over Peter’s curls.  “Trust me.  You were brave.  Much braver than Ironman would’ve been.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.” Tony nodded.  “And I…I did cry Pete.  Afterward.”  The pre-Morgan Tony never would’ve admitted that, but he thought it was important for Peter to know the truth.  He idolized Tony enough as it was.  He didn’t want him picking up his emotional constipation.

“You did?” Peter’s eyes widened, disbelief clear.  

“I did.” He nodded gravely.  “And I want you to know kid, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“You had to.  Or I would’ve died.” Peter frowned as if he didn’t understand.

“Well yeah but—”

“No.  No buts.” Peter interrupted, squinting at him as if he was hard to see.  Tony didn’t know if it was a side of effect of the painkillers or the low light.  “You always do this.  You blame yourself for everything.”

“Well in this case it actually was my fault.  I don’t know how—”

Peter reached his hand out and covered Tony’s mouth to get him to stop talking.  “Shh.  You saved my life.  And if you really need to hear it, then I forgive you, even though I think it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s nice to hear all the same.”  Tony said and then cocked his head to the side and smiled down at him.  “You know you’re the most amazing kid don’t you?”

“I know.” Peter grinned at him goofily.  “I’m awesome.”

Tony laughed.  “You really are.  I love you kid.”

“I know.  I love you too.” Peter’s eyes slipped closed, but he opened them again a few seconds later.  “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No kid.  I’m staying.” Tony reassured him, brushing a hand through his hair again.

“Ok.” Peter muttered and his eyes closed again.

“I’m not going anywhere.  I’m going to be stuck to you like glue.  You’re going to get so sick of me, you’ll be begging me to leave you alone.”

Peter smiled and whispered, “Sounds good.”

“And I don’t want you to worry kiddo.” He said, raking his fingers through Peter’s hair. “We’ll have you up and running around again in no time.  I promise.”  It was one promise he had no intention of breaking.  “Ok kid?”

Peter didn’t respond.

“Pete?”

His kid let out a soft little snore, obviously asleep.  Tony smiled.

“Good night buddy.” He whispered as he leaned forward to drop a kiss on his forehead.

He sat back in his chair, shifting back and forth, trying to get comfortable for the long haul because he’d meant what he’d said.  He wasn’t leaving Peter any time soon.

[isabilightwood]

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 9

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8]

The trees shivered under an unnatural fog. Yet the sky above was clear, save for the eerie crimson light of the stars. Every gust of wind against the leaves was a howling moan, every rustle of the undergrowth a giant spider yao gathering itself to lunge. Jin Tianyu wanted to go home. He was going to be an accountant under the Chief Cultivator and help him change the world. Important things. Not like stupid night hunting.

He didn’t need night hunting experience to do math.

But his instructors disagreed. Even Madam Jin had shaken her head when he asked for an exemption, and explained that he needed to be able to defend himself. He’d already delayed too much by avoiding night hunting until he was eighteen, two years away from his coming of age. But what could he ever need to defend himself from in Koi Tower, save the cheek-pinching fingers of elderly relatives?

And if he had to go night hunting, why did it have to be with Fan Caining? If only their regular blademaster or even Madam Jin herself ran these things. Then he would feel safe and protected, and not like his class’ ostensible teacher, appointed to ensure the group made it back in one piece, would turn tail and flee should they run into anything more dangerous than a single ghost.

Which they would. Besides their target, a guai formed from a carpenter’s worktable that had become animated, killed its owner, and run off into the woods, there had been reports of multiple yao formed from clouded leopards in these woods.

Not to mention the giant spiders. Jin Tianyu had had one on the ceiling of his room last night, and his roommate had refused to take care of it for him, right before rolling over and going right to sleep! He’d been forced to suffer through chasing it away with a broom by himself, whimpering all the while. And that was without the massive growth spurt resentful energy gave them.

Fan Caining suddenly swept his sword through the undergrowth, clearing out an ordinary pack of rodents. As he did so, something growled in the woods up ahead.

“That should draw something out.” He informed the group, though they’d been taught in class that the best way to draw out a dangerous guai or yao was to choose a battleground by scouting during the day, and using a lure flag with a limited distance to reduce the risk of attracting anything else.

How a bunch of rodents would draw out a murderous worktable, Jin Tianyu did not know. But it might bring out those leopards!

The senior disciple had a build that seemed to be made of squares, which also described his personality. Flat and boring, with a few pointy spots that made him dangerous to cross. Jin Tianyu had learned that the hard way when he suggested they might, possibly want to scout beforehand, and Fan Caining hit him hard across the back with the flat of his sword. The bruise had yet to fade.

Sure enough, a leopard yao with glowing red eyes pounced on his slightly older cousin as they entered the next clearing. She shrieked and whacked at it with her sheathed sword while Jin Tianyu and everyone else gaped. Even Fan Caining.

As his tangjie managed to get her sword between herself and the leopard, Jin Tianyu shook off his shock and drew his sword. He held it in front of himself like a spear and charged, yelling. Sword pierced flesh with sickening squelch.

He’d screwed his eyes shut to avoid looking, he realized, and opened them. The leopard was dead alright, and his tangjie alive if covered in the leopard’s blood. But it seemed Fan Caining had recovered at the same time he did. Either Jin Tianyu stabbing its gut or it’s beheading could have done it in.

“Thanks.” Tangjie said, as she used his limp arm to pull herself up. “I was starting to think no one would step in.”

The dozen other junior disciples looked sheepish.

“Of course,” Fan Caining drew himself up prouder than any peacock in the Koi Tower gardens, though she hadn’t addressed him.

The groaning noise sounded again, this time cut off with a wail.

Fan Caining waved him and the other junior disciples ahead as though nothing was wrong.  Jin Tianyu cursed his luck for the thousandth time.

It was one of the outer disciples who first stepped in a trap. They tried to take another step, and found themselves immobilized at the edge of the clearing. Tangjie took a step forward and found herself shot up into the branches of the tree above. “I can’t — my hands are stuck to the branch!” She called down, in a panic.

Several other disciples moved to help, but found themselves in the same situation. Jin Tianyu’s limbs felt heavy, and he stood there dumb and immobile.

The groaning noise came again, but cut off in a laugh that could only come from a person.

Lilting laughter that sounded like his worst nightmare echoed through the clearing. Looking around, Jin Tianyu spotted a man dressed in black and silver reclining casually on a tree branch. Beautiful, in the way of jagged glass, only sharper. Like he would not only cut anything that got too close, but shred it into thin, unidentifiable slivers.

If I was better at verse, I could be a poet, and leave cultivation behind forever. Jin Tianyu thought absently.

The man looked familiar somehow, like he might have crossed paths with Jin Tianyu in passing. Except that Jin Tianyu had never left Lanling City before.

Fog rolled into the clearing, but only below the tree line, leaving the man clear and untouched above.

Jin Tianyu coughed. No, not fog. Powder.

Fan Caining stood in the center of the clearing, his sword shaking as he pointed it up towards the man. “Xue Yang? But you’re supposed to be —”

“Dead?” Xue Yang’s teeth shone white, bared in a threat, not a smile. “Yes, you did try very hard to make that happen. Too bad for you, I’m too crazy to die. Lucky for me, none of your friends are here this time to save you. Only a few tasty little children.”

To his surprise, Fan Caining did not try to run. Instead, he jumped up into the trees. “I can take you on my own, you weak little maniac.”

Xue Yang only laughed as he attacked.

Xue Yang. Jin Tianyu knew why he recognized him now. That was the former disciple brought in by the former sect leader, cast out by the current Chief Cultivator. The murderer of the Chang Clan.

He’d called them tasty.

Screw Fan Caining. They needed to get out of there.

Jin Tianyu tried to give himself leverage to get to his cousin by pushing against a tree, and found himself entirely turned around, no longer in the clearing.

He turned, and the trees seemed to spin around him. They continued to spin no matter how long he tried to stand still, stumbling, until finally he hit something solid and rough. A tree. He slid down it. Seated, his vision felt a little clearer.

He soon wished it wasn’t.

Something dropped from the tree to dangle in above Jin Tianyu. He dared to peak, and immediately regretted it.

The slack, inverted features of Fan Caining stared back, his eyes bulging from his head, tongue swollen and hanging from blue-tinged lips.

Jin Tianyu screamed.

He woke to Tangjie slapping his cheeks. “Tianyu! Tianyu, wake up!”

“What… what happened?” Jin Tianyu said groggily, as his memory began to return. He sat up straight. “Xue Yang!”

“He left, but I think there was something in that fog. You inhale the most of it, but all of us breathed in a little.” She explained. “We need to hurry back to the inn. The rest of the group has Cai-qianbei’s body. Come on, we need to go.”

She slung his arm around her neck, but as he stood, the vertigo returned in full force.

Somehow, they made it back to the inn, but he didn’t remember it.

A young man rose from a table, then he was doubled and tripled and on again. He wore gray, with a boar on his shoulder. That meant Nie. Jin Tianyu remembered that.

“Did the lot of you run all the way back here like that?”

“What?” Jin Tianyu asked, and the next thing he knew, the Nie disciple was keeping him upright by the elbow, taking his weight from Tangjie so she could collapse in a chair.

Jin Tianyu stared up into the Nie disciple’s face, at the angles of his defined cheekbones and jaw, with just the right amount of softness. Very symmetrical. He could do math with that face.

Pretty. He thought.

“Thank you.” The Nie disciple flashed him a smile that made him want to faint all over again. “You’ve got corpse poisoning. Let’s get some congee in you, now.”

He was seated and a bowl of congee appeared in front of him out of nowhere, as though it had already been prepared. Even though it was evening, and he didn’t think enough time had passed to make it.

Jin Tianyu couldn’t be sure, though. He was too busy floating, the only thing anchoring him to his body the burning pain on his tongue.

That faded as he forced down more of the bowl, and he realized it was chili. He could see the flakes reddening his bowl. Tangjie, who loved chili, had scarfed it down with no problem. Jin Tianyu tried to put down the bowl.

“No, no, you have to eat the whole thing for it to work.” The Nie disciple —who was even prettier now that his head was clearer — shoved the bowl back into his hands. “That was corpse powder you were poisoned with. You’ll die.”

Jin Tianyu shoveled the rest into his mouth.

The Nie disciple was tall. Very tall, as was the case for every Nie he’d seen with the sole exception of their current sect leader, but surprisingly thin, like he didn’t spend all his spare time building up the muscles the Nie were well known for. The hair braided up into his guan was lopsided, like he’d done it up without looking in a mirror. But even under the influence of the corpse powder, Jin Tianyu had been correct. His face was perfectly symmetrical, without a single blemish or pore to be found. It would have looked unnatural, were his perfect face not so expressive. His brows arched and lips pursed  sternly, but giving the impression that he was laughing.

“Now, would you mind telling me what happened?” His beautiful savior asked.

Speaking over each other, Jin Tianyu and the other disciples hurried to do so. But by the next morning, when they gathered to leave for Koi Tower, their savior was gone.

In Nie robes and a face that did not belong to him, Wei Wuxian did not receive a second glance until he first set foot in the Unclean realm. Once there, he constantly felt eyes boring into his back, but when he glanced over, he’d find disciples hard at work on their forms or their noses buried deep in texts. Which only went to prove their curiosity.

Even with Nie Huaisang for a sect leader, it wasn’t every day that a stranger was brought into the sect and handed a high-ranking position. But the Nie Sect had few elders, and those they had were aged and gray because with saber cultivation, it was the weak who survived the longest. It seemed the Nie elders were retired in truth, pursuing hobbies like needlework and whittling and nagging their grandchildren to eat more.

By the time Wei Wuxian arrived in the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue’s body had been hidden away, though not yet buried, for reasons known only to Nie Huaisang. No one said anything about that, either.

“And since I’m the weakest of the lot, I’ll live to be a hundred,” Nie Huaisang completed explaining his free reign to lead his sect however he chose, unparalleled by any other sect even a single generation past its founding as they approached the gates to the Unclean Realm.

Right before dropping a bomb on his head in the form of unwarranted and unwanted respectability. “My closest sect siblings know my motives if not my plans, so no one will oppose appointing you to the vacant position of fourth disciple.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian sputtered, tempted to check if Nie Huaisang was running a fever. “What happened to the last fourth disciple?”

Nie Huaisang snapped his fan closed, and opened it again, staring off into the distance.

Touchy subject. Understood. “Forget I asked.”

“Let’s just say Jin Guangyao owes the Nie Clan more than one life.” Nie Huaisang said, before dragging him through the gates and launching into a series of dramatic introductions that left his head spinning.

Apparently he was going by Nie Wang, courtesy Xiaomeng now.

Wei Wuxian had not been consulted on this. Walking around with everyone thinking his name was hope felt precisely in line with Nie Huaisang’s sense of humor.

True to form, Nie Huaisang did not deign to explain until he wanted something. Despite copious amounts of pleading, Wei Wuxian was forced to wait through a restless night of nightmares and a morning while his apparent new sect leader caught up on work to get his answers.

Finally, Nie Huaisang summoned him around lunch time. He was set up in a pavilion in the garden, with a mountain of paperwork. The garden had been designed by someone with an eye for showcasing Qinghe’s foliage. A lotus pond surrounded the pavilion, and though its cultivated beauty was no match for the wildness of Yunmeng’s lakes, the carefully selected flowers staggered through the surrounding paths were like hidden gems, each intended to stand on its own.

There were birds as well, goldfinches and many others kept there not by cages, but by the feeders full of seeds spread throughout.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said as he sprawled on a bench across the table from Nie Huaisang, who did not look up from his work to greet him. “I thought I was going to be a rogue cultivator. But apparently you had other ideas.”

“If you’re going to pull this off, the easiest way to wander around without notice is as one of my disciples. As a rogue cultivator, you might gather some recognition, get invited along to visit sects and so on. As one of mine, well, there are Nie disciples everywhere.” It was deeply disconcerting to watch Nie Huaisang take something seriously. And he was serious about that paperwork, not even looking up to speak. “They get bored of me, and travel.”

“They’re spies, aren’t they?”

He lifted his brush from a page with a flourish, and pinned it off to the side under a weight to dry, immediately moving onto the next one. “Are you saying I’m not irritating enough to make people need a break? I must have an ulterior motive? I’ll have to try harder.”

“Oh, you’re very irritating. They’re just extremely loyal.”

“After the Sunshot campaign and the losses we had during Dage’s decline, both to desertion and other causes. And then the prospect of me. Well, anyone who’s left is basically family.”

He gestured at Nie Xiaodan, at that moment crossing the bridge towards the pavilion.

Nie Xiaodan patted him on the head as she passed by. “Don’t forget to order lunch, Zongzhu.” She said, and returned to discussing a night hunt with her companion. It seemed she had come for that reminder only.

Nie Huaisang beamed.

“Fine, I’ll pretend to be your disciple.” Wei Wuxian wanted to pretend he’d been given a choice.

“Excellent! We can get you a saber easily enough.”

Uh. He had told him what Wen Qing said about his core, right? Wei Wuxian was often terrible at remembering tasks, but he distinctly recalled completing that one. “I’m banned from resentful energy, doctor’s orders.”

“Our smiths can make sabers without binding an animal spirit, you know. They do make other things.”

Wei Wuxian was summarily introduced to the blacksmiths, a married couple who looked him up and down intently and promptly got into an argument over the saber’s design. When he looked around for Nie Huaisang, the sneaky little spymaster was missing, because of course he was.

Attempts at interrupting failed to distract the couple from their debate over the pattern to be inscribed on the hilt, so Wei Wuxian settled against the wall to wait, and inadvertently took a nap.

He was prodded awake with the end of a (thankfully) unheated poker. “Infuse this with your energy,” The smith holding the poker growled, pointing towards a red-hot block of iron. Wei Wuxian did as requested, feeling only a slight protest from Xue Yang’s — his core.

Then, all he had to do was wait.

During the week it took for his new saber to be prepared, Wei Wuxian was not idle.

If he was going to imitate Xue Yang with no demonic cultivation and an extremely temperamental sword, Wei Wuxian needed tricks. Wen Qing had told him to invent something. But, Wei Wuxian thought, how better to create the illusion of evil tricks than to use something that actually existed.

He had drawn one idea from the stage. Why not the methods for a few more?

Within a day of verbalizing his plan, Wei Wuxian drowned under a sea of texts pulled from the shelves of the Nie library and from the private records of Qinghe’s theater and dance troops. Thanks to Nie Huaisang’s generous patronage, Wei Wuxian had been able to request manuals on the techniques in common between troops, rather than their family secrets. The tricks to raising and lowering a curtain on an improvised stage and to building a smoke bomb in a desired hue for a start.

The combination of practical optical illusions and talismans seemed particularly promising.

The smoke bombs were the easiest, simply a matter of mixing powders together in a casing and setting them on fire. Fun for him, but since he managed to irritate someone no matter where he set them off, Wei Wuxian moved on.

Combining his binding talisman and a sticking talisman, he stuck a disciple to the roof of the library.

(A volunteer, since it wasn’t as though Jiang Cheng was there. Or speaking to him.)

The force holding him in place was a standard talisman, nothing Wei Wuxian had invented, but the disciple struggled against it like he’d never learned how to counter it. Which he probably hadn’t, given how little thought most cultivators gave them beyond wards and the ubiquitous ones for keeping tea warm or sending brief messages.

Which was precisely why Wei Wuxian might just pull this off.

He thought about pulleys and spirit nets, and the next day, he inscribed the talismans within a pressure-triggered array, and sent himself flying upwards. Followed by a plethora of curious volunteers.

What had he expected, though? The Nie were a sect full of adrenaline junkies. Even the first disciple came around for a turn. After that, Wei Wuxian found himself with company and conversation at every meal.

Even so, he never forgot he was wearing a mask. Every night after a long day of study, the mask weighed heavy on his face, leaving him with a headache. He found it easier to ward his door, than keep it on while he slept. Then, and only then, was it safe to be himself.

Many of the most useful tricks required more practice, such as projecting sounds so they seemed to come from a different source. Wei Wuxian practiced each, over and over again, until he felt he had it. And then put on a demonstration.

When he could pull off a trick successfully in front of the little Nie Disciples, he knew he had managed it. If he still couldn’t fool Nie Huaisang, well, Huaisang was Huaisang.

He couldn’t be held to mortal standards.

That left one more problem, perhaps the most challenging.

Along with the skin mask, Xue Yang’s bag had contained: two changes of clothes, a small pouch of silver, a large coil of rope, and several heavy bags full of corpse powder.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian wasn’t actually going to use corpse powder on anyone. That could get messy fast, if anyone else was around, with no guarantee he’d be able to serve the antidote in time. Yet it seemed like corpse powder was a common part of Xue Yang’s modus operandi.

If he didn’t use it, would Jin Guangyao suspect something was off? There was no way of telling.

The problem niggled at the back of his mind all week long, whether he was becoming one with the library or getting caught in his own rope trap. But he got no closer to finding a solution.

Until finally, during breakfast on the day Wei Wuxian was to receive his saber, he sat staring into his congee, stirring it absently.

And had a brilliant idea.

Somehow, having a potential solution took the edge off his nerves, and he was able to hold Yuanzheng for the first time while only making a bit of a fool of himself. To his relief, it didn’t feel like Suibian, though the long, thin saber was also designed for agility rather than power.

Yuanzheng

did feel like a weapon he could use, not the dead, draining weight Suibian had become or the repulsion of Jiangzai. Like it might become an extension of his arm in time, with Suibian and Chenqing out of reach. Wei Wuxian teared up a little, as he went through a series of exercises for the first time in years, and did not pass out.

For the first time, his resurrection really felt like a second chance. The beginning of the long journey he’d named his saber for, with a slim chance that light in the distance was the end of the tunnel. With family and zhiji waiting on the other end.

He had better make it count.

From the privacy of his own room that night, he pulled out his Distance Speaking Stone, and called up Wen Qing. “Hey, disorienting powder can be cleared from the system with congee like corpse powder, right?”

With construction on watchtowers set to begin in several sects, there was little for Jiang Yanli to do on the project but wait. Yet she couldn’t remain idle with only her sect responsibilities and A-Ling to occupy her time. Not if she intended to make herself — or rather, Qin Su — a credible power in her own right, someone who had a chance of being believed when it came time to reveal Jin Guangyao’s crimes.

She needed a new project. Something Jin Guangyao had yet to present a plan for, something Qin Su would get all the credit for.

Word arrived that a Jin disciple had been murdered by Xue Yang, the juniors he had been escorting barely escaping with their lives. The pair of Jin cousins with the rare tea feud (under a temporary ceasefire in favor of vengeance against the Chief Cultivator for the allowance cut, so far consisting of attempts to convince the servants to put laxatives in his tea, which the servants would not do, out of a desire to remain among the living) fainted dead away at the news.

Jiang Yanli, already aware of this through her brother, attempted to look appropriately horrified.

Jin Guangyao paled, and for a moment, lost his composure. Ice in his eyes and steel in the set of his jaw, there and gone again in a blink. Mask back into place but still off balance, he cut off the junior disciples’ explanation of their rescue from corpse powder mid sentence. He immediately sent off three teams of disciples to track down Xue Yang and bring back his body.

“I thought Xiandu always heard all explanations to the end.” A messenger from Fengyang Hua whispered to a group consisting of the wards from Lieshan Du, Zhai Xia, and Mo Xuanyu’s ever-present suitors.

Not always, rumor would now say. Even Xiandu is afraid of something.

Even with fear in the air over the return of Xue Yang — for everyone had a horror story to tell of his time in Koi Tower, mostly to do with dismembered animals in places that were decidedly not the kitchen — Jiang Yanli found she had finally settled into her role.

One day, the paperwork ran out, and Jiang Yanli found herself with an afternoon free. A novel experience, since her return. It was a perfect opportunity to brainstorm her next step.

If only she could dredge up the barest hint of an idea. But her mind felt like a dried-up creek in a drought.

“I was thinking of going to the tailor in the city, Xiao-Heng is growing like a demon and needs more new clothes. Would you like to come with me?”

I bet we’re not thinking of anything because we’re trying too hard. Qin Su said.

As much as Jiang Yanli hated to admit it, she had a point. A-Xian always said that he had his best ideas the moment he stopped trying to force a solution. The difficulty lay in not thinking about it.

I have a solution for that. My beloved nephew is quite the attention hog.

“A-Ling’s robes have been looking rather short.” She said aloud.

Qi Juan beamed, and began tucking her son in his sling. He was soon to outgrow it, and had just reached the troublesome learning to crawl stage.

Kidnapping her son from his lessons was a thrill, though it was the work of a moment. The sour-faced calligraphy instructor dismissed A-Ling with visible relief, and the reminder that A-Ling was still expected to produce ten copies of poems at the next class. Without blotches of ink covering half the page, or brush strokes of uneven width.

A-Ling stuck out his tongue behind the instructor’s back, and ran to grab her hand, already chattering about how he wanted to bring back sticks of tanghulu for the entire class.

“My sweet, grumpy boy,” She ruffled his hair, and he scowled, attempting to push it back into place, but only displacing his top knot further. Just like his jiujiu.

The main streets of Lanling were cleaner than she remembered from six years ago. The shops lining the main street had all recently been given a fresh coat of paint, proprietors and customers alike looking healthier and more prosperous.  Jin Guangyao had reformed the city’s taxes, on the basis that letting the common people keep more of their earnings now would bring the sect more profit in the long term. More than one person recognized her as Madam Jin, and called out a respectful greeting with a smile. At least on a surface level, his plan had begun to work.

There were fewer brothels now as well, reduced by half. The madams who had refused to start allowing their workers to pay off their contracts had been driven out of business or died in mysterious fires. (In some cases, but not all, the workers mysteriously escaped unscathed.) As A-Ling towed her along to a hawker with a tower of tanghulu, she passed an empty lot with the blackened foundations still visible. The buildings next to it were under repair, one of which seemed to have sustained considerable damage to the living quarters on the second floor.

As she looked around more closely, she saw an emaciated old man begging from the entrance of an alley, a woman in what had once been a set of fine performance robes soliciting passerby, and scruffy children lurking in dark corners.

Despite Jin Guangyao’s claims of working towards progress, there were still street children in Lanling.

Making a home for the orphans of Lanling had been a project dear to A-Xuan’s heart, in the last months of his life. Impending fatherhood had made him more perceptive in many ways, more so even than the changes he underwent during the Sunshot campaign. But when she was preganant, her husband had taken her by the arms and informed her with great distress that there are children in the streets, Yanli! Children!

Jiang Yanli had thought better late than never and helped him come up with a plan. She had her own reasons to take an interest in the care of orphans and poor children, after all.

Jin Guangshan had probably signed the funding out of the budget on an advisor’s word, not having been informed how his son and daughter-in-law were spending the clan’s funds in the first place.

Jin Guangyao would not have gotten rid of such a program, she thought, as she fished a coin so her son could get as sticky with sugar as his little heart desired.

Qin Su did not quite agree. No, he would have replaced it with something similar, that he could claim the credit for.

True. But he hadn’t — which meant there was room for Jiang Yanli to fill the gap.

After a moment of thought, she purchased a second stick, and handed it to Qi Juan.

“You looked like you could use it.” She told her.

Qi Juan bit down delicately on the candy-coated hawthorn, but couldn’t avoid the satisfying crunch. And laughed, as parts of the coating cracked, and fell from her lips. “All right. I haven’t had something like this since… before the Sunshot Campaign, probably. Certainly not since my family came up in the world and married me off. You look like you could use one too.”

“Do I?” Jiang Yanli had often thought that helping others feel better was its own reward.

It would make me feel better to taste something sweet. Qin Su said in a blatant attempt to get Jiang Yanli to treat herself. Sweet-sweet though, not hawthorn berries.

I think that stall might be selling lotus mooncakes.” Though the mid-autumn festival had already past, there was never a wrong time for a mooncake.

It was a mistake to mention heaven’s favorite root in front of Jin Ling. “Lotus!” He shouted. “Pleasepleaseplease mooncake mooncake!” And would not let up until she bought him one, in addition to three for herself.

“That’s more than enough sugar for one day, young man.” She informed him as she took a bite of her own mooncake, wrapping the others in a cloth for later.

A-Ling grinned toothily up at her, mooncake leaking lotus paste in one hand, half eaten tanghulu in the other, and the glint of sugar all over his cheeks.

Perhaps she should have insisted he wait until after their errand for his treats, but Jiang Yanli did not possess the earned resistance to his adorable whims of a mother who had gotten to see her child grow. Who could blame her, if she spoiled him a little? “Do you think the tailor will still let us in the shop?”

“It’s not so bad,” Qi Juan said, just as A-Ling smushed the rest of the mooncake in his hand, and shoved it in his face. She grimaced. “I’m certain Tailor Ke has seen worse.”

Indeed, Tailor Ke, a woman who knew her way around hanfu, if the way the one she was wearing flattered her extensive curves meant anything, did not blink an eye. “If you could wipe off the young master’s hands, please, Jin-furen?”

Jiang Yanli took the offered wet handkerchief, and wiped the stickiness off of a protesting A-Ling. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to damage any of your lovely merchandise.”

Sadly, the more vibrant fabrics could not be chosen for A-Ling, who would be consigned to golden peacocks and peonies on off-white for as long as he lived. As a married-in spouse, however, Jiang Yanli had more leeway with under robes. The pale pink of Laoling Qin tempered the gold, making it almost palatable.

Qi Juan freely admired a swatch of vivid green fabric, in precisely the right shade for her natal sect. A daring choice, if it was for her son. Perhaps a sign that Qi Juan would be receptive to opposing her husband.

Tailor Ke bustled around, assembling the appropriate silks in Jin colors for Jiang Yanli’s inspection herself.

“Have you been short handed lately?” She asked as ideas for how, exactly, she would go about outdoing Jin Guangyao in reform measures began to coalesce in her mind.

“Have I ever! There’s all this new demand for clothing and not enough suitable apprentices to go around! Everyone’s looking, not just me.” She dropped a stack of fabrics on the table with a grunt. “Jin-gongzi’s order will take priority, of course.”

She shook her head. Naturally an order from the sect leader’s wife would be prioritized, but there was no need. “Please put Bei-gongzi’s order ahead of mine. A-Ling can get a bit more use out of his robes, but Bei-gongzi won’t fit into his if he grows anymore. And only the peony for embroidery. If it’s any more elaborate, A-Ling will inevitably ruin the robes the first time he wears them.”

“Yes, Jin-furen.” Tailor Ke agreed. “It won’t take more than a week, all told. Kid’s clothes work up fast.”

“And wear out faster.” She sighed as A-Ling chose that moment to snag his sleeve on a nail. “What are you looking for, in an apprentice?”

Many craftspeople would have been hesitant to answer, but Tailor Ke was happy to babble on as she began to drape fabrics over A-Ling’s shoulders, critiquing and sorting them to find the least aesthetically terrible combinations. “Oh, someone who’s quick with their hands, with some basic sewing and embroidery skills. I don’t have time to teach basics, but the rest can come along in time. Someone to do the books for me would also be a dream. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though fortunately I can still stitch a straight seam without looking.”

That seemed like simple enough requirements, easily fulfilled with a little education. Though orphans were pulled of the street from time to time, it was usually for menial positions they would lose the moment something went wrong. Or if they were very lucky, to take care of an old, childless widow. Re-instituting A-Xuan’s program and improving upon it — that could be a very real way to distinguish Qin Su in the eyes of not only the Jin Sect, but the cultivation world.

The children could not only learn skills to help find employment, but be tested for cultivation potential.

The sects were always complaining about how difficult it was to recruit new talent. Executed properly, Jiang Yanli could make Qin Su look not only kind-hearted, but clever, reputable, and forward thinking, with the best interests of the sect she had married into at heart.

Even if the actual Qin Su fantasized about burning down Koi Tower on a regular basis.

Hey.

What? It was true.

Qin Su huffed. A semi-regular basis, maybe. And I would never actually. I wouldn’t actually ruin the whole of Lanling’s economy or put the servants and juniors out of house and home.

My apologies then. She suppressed a laugh.

Would there really be enough apprenticeships to go around, though? Qin Su sent numbers bouncing around her mind as she attempted the mental math, but got lost without paper.

Perhaps not. But larger farms could use workers, manors could use servants, and affordable bookkeepers were always in short supply. It could, at least, give them a better start.

“Shenshen look! I’m all twirly!” A-Ling giggled as he spun, the silk draped over him spinning out and threatening to knock over the tailor’s basket of supplies. Jiang Yanli tried not to smile, knowing she would need to scold him later, and prepared to pay for the entire bolt.

“We should discuss the problem with your sword.” Wen Qing said one night through the softly glowing Distance Speaking Stone. A-Xian had popped in earlier, briefly, but he was busy following the second of the Jin disciples on Xue Yang’s list, learning the habits of the group they were part of before he could lead them into a trap.

Jiang Yanli stared into her evening tea. “Must we?”

“Wei Wuxian isn’t having trouble with his new saber. The problem must be that Chunsheng doesn’t fully recognize you as Qin Su.”

“I can’t just get rid of her sword.” That wasn’t done.

<We are not getting rid of Chunsheng.> Qin Su said from inside her paperman. She’d been bent over a copy of some of A-Xian’s notes, researching something she had yet to explain.

“You’re basically unprotected. What if something —” Wen Qing cut herself off, surprisingly panicked.

Replacing a sword would garner more attention than A-Xian had in refusing to carry Suibian around. Whether they would somehow determine the truth or spread rumors about a disastrous fallout with the Qin clan, everyone would know something was off.

Still, it was sweet of her to worry. “Any sword is more protection than I had in my last life, Wen Qing.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She sounded so forlorn that Jiang Yanli ached with the desire to fall into her arms and rub circles into her back until she slept, and even after. “But I worry.”

So did she, far too often. There was no end to worrying, it seemed. Not even after death. “Does A-Xian have any ideas about the talisman keeping you trapped?”

Wen Qing hesitated. “I haven’t let him look at it yet.”

“A-Qing!” A slip of the tongue, in her shock.

Wen Qing’s breath caught. “I’m not letting him put my life before his again. When we’re closer —”

“Last time you put his life before yours, he died anyways.” Jiang Yanli snapped. And sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unfair. It’s just — if you’re allowed to worry for me, I get to worry for you.”

“A little longer. Then I’ll speak to him.”

She could tell that was the best she was going to get. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him myself.”

Jiang Yanli was tired of watching the people she cared about tear themselves apart. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Wen Qing let out a shaky, hiccupping laugh. “That seems fair.”

[nadiaportia]

Prompt 1 - Hometown: “Never Over”

For @arcana-echoes​

Summary: A partisan on the run returns to their roots and with it the guilt over their family’s fate.

Word count: ~2000

Warnings for mentions of arson, death and war.

Considering it’s a tad depressing, I feel like “enjoy” is the wrong word but you know what I mean. And yay for this being the first thing I write for The Arcana in months and feel comfortable with posting! I went with a more flashback-esque approach than I originally intended to and hope it somewhat works out.

They reached Valanguer in the late afternoon, the sun already being more than midway on her journey to the horizon.

A group of people were lounging in the shadows of a large strawberry tree, the one just outside of the village. They saw them approach, but didn’t get up from their comfortable seats. A woman wore the sandy uniform of the Queen’s Men, but that didn’t necessarily have to mean something. It was most likely stolen from a dead corpse and paraded around like a trophy. Some Queen’s Men didn’t stand behind Jacinta’s words or those of her butchers. Ultimately that mattered little to Deirdra, to most of the people who have lost someone at the Loyalists’ hands, but in the moment that might’ve helped them not getting caught and sent to prison.

“There’s a hole in the jacket, right in the sternum.” Eugeni said to Pau, but loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

“Trash’s already been taken out, then.” Renée murmured grimly and kicked a rock out of her path. 

“Told ya, I didn’t see one single llagosta the entire day I was scouting here. They don’t come back to places which they already ransacked. Folks here got lucky though, their village looks better than the one a few days away from here. That place was burned to the ground, nothing but scorched earth.”

Deirdra swallowed and tensed up. They didn’t slow their step though, they knew what they had agreed to. They could’ve chosen to go with Arnau and Lluïsa and seek refuge in the forest but when Rut had come back with the news of the village being free of Loyalists, they knew that this is where they had to be - at least one more time, before death came either at the hand of a firing squad, a bayonet, a wound that wouldn’t close up with the help of magic or get infected regardless how much it was taken care of. Living in a dreamworld where home still looked like home wasn’t what Deirdra wanted.

Something passed by their legs and rubbed itself against them. 

Enkidu was looking up at them, his beady eyes so dark and yet warm that Deidra felt themself taw a bit. They bent over and picked the marten up, gently stroking his fur and holding him close to their chest.

Renée was the only one who approved them, perhaps the only one who felt at comfort doing so but Deirdra felt the others’ worried gazes on their back. Some of them had been in the same position, but regardless of that they all felt with them.

She didn’t say anything but just gently took Deidra`s wrist, caressing it with her thumb. A silent consolation, as reassuring as saying You’re not alone out loud.

The fields where the farmers would grow wheat had been left untouched, or maybe they had already recovered. It has been two years. Everything could’ve happened. Papá had said nothing of burning fields in the letters he, like many incarcerated sympathizers, smuggled out of the prisons where they sat in. It might’ve happened after they took him away. Maybe a villager would know more.

Deirdra had thought of the possibility of someone recognizing them. The marks on their face could be a giveaway, they and Jaume had been the only ones in Valanguer who had them. Maybe the villagers would assume they were from one of the cities, and they might not even recognize them, they had a growth spurt and perhaps the dark blue hair dye was enough to throw anyone off. 

Truth be told, Deirdra was wishing to not be confronted. It might be unbearable and make the experience more real. They had come back to look at the city, not to have someone discover that a lost child came back from the dead.

 Windows were opened cautiously when the group entered the village, and Rut was right; most houses still stood. 

Those that didn’t stood out even more.

Two old men were playing a card game on a shaggy table in front of a house, they looked up curiously when Deirdra and the others passed by them. 

An old woman peered out a door and immediately closed it with a bang as soon as she saw their dark green uniforms. 

Deirdra thought for a moment about potentially being ratted out by Loyalist supporters and forced themself to calm down. Unless the old woman had younger relatives, she wouldn’t be running out to meet the Queen’s Men. They had been gone for some time, or at least that’s what they hoped.

A young man came around a corner with quick paces. His dark curls clung to his forehead and a scar split his lower lip. His nose looked like it had been broken a couple of times, and his brown eyes were steely - but not exactly unwelcoming.

“Greetings, soldiers, Welcome to Valanguer. Are you passing through or looking for a place to rest?”

Llorenç was the son of the mayor, a few years older than Deirdra. Papá would’ve said whether or not he had been a good student, Mamá would’ve talked about everything he had been up to as a free time. 

Pau took up word, as the unofficial leader of the group due to being the most experienced and oldest.

“Greetings. Depends on whether your village is safe or not. My comrades and I would love some rest but if it’s not meant to be, then we will search for our luck in the next village.”

There was no ‘next village’. Rut had told them all so just a few minutes ago.

Llorenç knew that too.

“Would a night be enough? I assume you’re on your way to the capital.”

“Yep.”

“We should talk inside my home, please follow me.”

As Llorenç led them down the street and to the mayor’s house, he introduced himself. He has been acting mayor since last year.

“Last winter some Queen’s Men from the capital came down here. Looking for insurgents and sympathizers. They took the mayor to prison for supposedly providing them with aid and food.”

His mother. Deirdra didn’t give their condolences, they didn’t tear their eyes from the ground. They thought looking at what the war had done to home would be hard to bear but not as hard as it was in reality. It was easier to bow your head and see the dirt that was the same everywhere. And yet they saw the fountain, a ruin of what it had been before where the children used to play when the summers were particularly hot.

The mayor’s house was small, smaller than Renée’s home had been back in the capital, and not all fifteen could fit in the room that served as the mayor’s office. Pau motioned for Rut and, after a brief moment of hesitance, Deirdra to come along with him. They passed Enkidu to Renée who gently stroked his head and followed Pau inside while the others remained outside.

Llorenç’s eyes hung on them for a moment, but there was no flash of recognition in them. He poured himself and his visitors fermented arboç juice.

“I personally have no love for the Queen’s Men. Filthy pillaging murderers, all of them, but the ones who do it because their lives in the city were too boring… those bastards are the scourge upon this land.” He sighed. “But not all people in here think like I do, even in villages like these there are some sympathizers for the Loyalist cause -- even if that “cause” is just killing rebellious youths.” 

Deirdra felt a knot in their stomach. The arboç juice tasted bitter despite its sweetness. Jaume had been such a rebellious youth, and how had his story ended? With a hole in the back of his skull, the most cowardly way to kill someone.

“You leave at sunrise. The Queen’s Men torched the school building that same winter and we don’t have the resources to rebuild it, but it should provide enough shelter for the night.

A shiver crawled down Deirdra’s neck and spine and instead of listening in on what the mayor had to say, they focussed on the flavor of the arboç. They had never particularly liked it but now it was a welcome memory of days long gone that would never return.

They left Llorenç’s home by the time the sun was already kissing the horizon. The sunset was beautiful to behold, the colorful hues overlapping perfectly and fading from orange to red to pink to purple to dark blue. If one looked up, the ruins of Valanguer weren’t visible anymore. 

Deirdra walked the streets with their companions, both giving them a worried look but not daring to approach the issue. 

“It looks better than some other places we’ve been to.” Rut finally said slowly and earned a sharp look from Pau.

“Don’t wander off too far and-”

“Look out, just in case. Don’t be up to any bullshit. I know.”

The both gave each other a look but let them be. Without another word Deirdra turned around and left them behind. 

Valanguer was small, so it didn’t take a lot to reach their destination, but given how often Deidra stopped to look at the houses, they had to admit to themselves they were stalling quite mercilessly. 

Some houses were deserted, the broken windows and kicked-in doors poorly repaired. Those that weren’t reminded them of turtle shells, a refuge where its inhabitants could lock themselves in until danger had passed. The Queen’s Men probably passed by a lot more often than they had at first thought -- maybe they had just left, or were already on their way. Valanguer was a two day trip away from a small town that was known to be full of Loyalist sympathizers, it was a surprise the surrounding lands weren’t infested with llagostes. 

They had left nothing of where the Margalit-Araya used to live. In a village that was burnt to the ground, one blackened ruin didn’t stand out a lot, but here, where mercy had prevailed (until now that was), it stuck out like a sore thumb. There must’ve been nothing left to salvage, and Deirdra felt actual pain at the thought of what had all been lost in the flames. They stood in front of the ruins of their childhood home for a long time, refusing to turn away in an act of self-imposed torture. 

Maybe if they hadn’t left on a whim that night and stayed instead they would’ve been able to take both Papá and Mamá away from here, even if it would’ve ultimately been against their wishes because leaving Valanguer, their home, left leaving behind their lives and leaving behind Jaume, and especially the latter was something neither would have wanted in their sentimentality. And where had they all ended up? Either dead, in prison or on the run, from both those responsible for their -- everyone’s, because they were hardly the only ones -- misery and their own guilt.

Footsteps made them twitch and just from the sound of it, they knew who it was.

“The others said I should leave you alone but I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.”

Renée’s hand rubbed their back and Deirdra felt her put her head against her shoulder. 

“This isn’t how I wanted you to see my home.” Their throat felt dry, like sandpaper, but also surprisingly steady. Deirdra was glad to not feel the need to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” Renée’s lips gently touched their temple and her hand, rough and with calluses, took a hold of Deirdra’s. “When this is over--” She paused, unsure of what to say.

Deirdra turned to look at her and allowed Renée to caress their face, wrap her arms around their neck and pull them close in a hug.

When this is over. They all talked a lot about how things would be when this would be over. Everything destroyed would be repaired, Queen Jacinta chased out of the country and back to her Calpacian liege lords, tail between her legs like any good vassal, and the Orioli would be truly free.

But for Deirdra it wouldn’t be over. And they had the feeling that it would never truly be.

[ayzrules]

WRITEBOARDWALK FERRIS WHEEL DAY #1: PROTAGONIST

writeboardwalk ferris wheel - day i, main characters { marivana }

the ice does not forgive

A B O U T ;  In the professional robot unicorn racing industry, Snow is the reigning ice queen. but she was once, surprising as it may seem, Ice World’s sweetheart. She was scouted when she was 17 and dubbed ‘Snow Princess’, and with her blonde curls and blue eyes, she had a smile so pretty and sweet that people said it could melt ice. Her first unicorn was the same - gentle, with an even disposition and as pretty as a picture. That all changed when an armed thief tried to rob Snow on her way back from practice with her unicorn. That first unicorn, the one who was pretty and sweet and gentle, saw Snow panicking and attacked the thief, killing him. In order to avoid legal sanctions, TWILIGHT was forced to deactivate the unicorn, and Snow Princess disappeared from the racing scene. She re-appeared with { Sparkle Charmer } three seasons later, but she was different. Cold. She dropped the ‘princess’ from her name, becoming just Snow, and would go on to become an industry veteran. She’s now over 30, but shows no signs of retiring….and she’s perfectly capable of competing with the newer, younger racers, thank you very much.

I M A G E ;  Cold, determined, aloof, and a bit cruel, a bit ruthless, a bit brutal. Snow is robot unicorn racing’s Ice Queen, steely and frigid and diamond-eyed; untouchable. Considered Ice World’s top / most recognizable racer.

S T Y L E ;  Diamonds, diamonds, d i a m o n d s ! Spiked heels { a la Lisa’s white Balenciaga shoes in DDU-DU DDU-DU MV }, dark velvet (see: Paolo Sebastian S/S 14-15 }, glittering crystal headdresses, cascading chandeliers of diamond earrings, sharply tailored suits { decorated with more diamonds, of course }

I M P A C T ;  Popularized optometric cosmetic surgeries involving iris alterations when TWILIGHT debuted her for the second time { with diamonds surgically implanted into her eyes } ; widely recognized for ‘brutally beautiful’ racing technique that emphasizes power, form, and technique over speed and agility.

H I S T O R Y ;  Debuted as Snow Princess 12 years ago { 4018 }, took an extended hiatus in 4020, then debuted a second time as Snow in 4023.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 125 Thoughts

Things Eren’s Plan Has Made Better:

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Open, infuriated communication between people living under fear of imminent death! :) :) :)

This chapter makes me laugh. Almost nothing good happens within its pages, and it’s delightful. Eren’s stated intention of killing off the outside world is actively disrupting even the imitation of peace every society in this universe has.

He’s fighting for the protection of Paradis? See all these dead Paradis people who were just minding their own business. See also all these living Paradis people who are minding their own business into a civil war.

He’s ending the Eldian cycle of titanization? Nope, still got the inheritance problem to work out, and if the rest of the world dies, that just means nine people are forever going to be killing each other over it.

There is nothing in this chapter that is worth any of the carnage Eren has inflicted.

So I can’t wait to find out what it’s really about.

There’s a bad plan, and then there’s this.

No part of the world is untouched by Eren’s decisions, and even the people he’s claimed to be interested in protecting are actively suffering from what he’s done. Unless Eren’s sanity is such that he is pursuing a future where there is no one but him and a pile of bodies, there is no outcome here that he’s said he wants.

Which is good, because it means that we’re not done.

If this were a video game, and Eren was a character inside it with an open strategy guide, his choices would be the mark of a player looking to pick the worst possible ending.

[Eren] enters a farmhouse for the night, looking for shelter. [Eren] is discovered, and met with a warm meal.

[A] Say thank you for your meal.

[B] Throw the potatoes in the kind, elderly housewife’s face.

[C] Kick the table over and murder her young children.

[D] Commit omnicide.

Eren wants the D, so any other possibilities are out.

Paradis isn’t safe. Eren and Zeke invited global scorn at an international event.

Paradis isn’t safe. Eren woke up thousands of titans who remake the landscape by going out for a stroll.

Paradis isn’t safe. Every citizen living on the island has their own thoughts an opinions on what this is, and if they vocalize them the wrong way in front of the wrong person, they’re being subdued with violence.

Plus, at this point, the rest of the world doesn’t even know the titans are coming. The only people who are going to spend their last time on this planet in hours (days?) of petrified fear are interned Eldians, who are screaming warnings at everyone and getting beatings back. At best.

Eren announced his plans to every Eldian. They, unlike their non-Eldian counterparts, are privileged with knowing exactly how they’re going to die, and how little everyone is working to prevent this outcome.

If killing the entire rest of the world does work out, Eren’s actions have made it so that the people who have grown up in internment camps spend their last days even more miserable than they were to begin with.

Naisu.

As Pieck and Magath discuss, there is no way to stop this. Everyone on Paradis is in shock, starting fights, or pulling dying people from rubble. Staring out at the horizon in horror. There is nothing anyone alive can do about this.

Submit, and be free. It’s over.

Or fight and die.

That’s always the case in this world, isn’t it? Fight against insurmountable odds, and fall with your pride intact, or decide that this burning world is a good place to rest.

The remains of Marley’s military giving voice to that offends my sensibilities, somewhat. Magath actively pursued lighting this fire. Without his assistance, this never could have happened. The fact that he thought he was only scapegoating Paradis and eliminating his country’s military hierarchy so he could take control does not particularly make it better.

But the will to fight doesn’t belong to only people with squeaky clean morals. This, unfortunately, is not a story where only the protagonist side gets to have good philosophical views.

Landing Magath on yet more pages of this manga. Cheers.

And of course, we have the turnaround where Floch, a member of the Survey Corps, is now arguing that the fighting is done now. While there’s still titans roaming the world, causing death.

He’s never been a very good Scout.

“What’s so bad about submission...?”

Submission, Floch, is bad because it leaves fucks like you having the last word. It leaves people who smile about genocide because of how it improves their lives free to spread that poison and think that this kind of atrocious violence is a good thing.

The man Floch claims to speak for has never known how to submit to anything.

Eren’s love of the world, and of freedom, is not isolated. He doesn’t want his freedom. He wants freedom as a concept to reign. Humans are born free, and anyone who tries to disagree with that doesn’t matter. That’s been his view from the start. That’s the startlingly intense perspective that has him killing people when he’s nine.

The Paradis Eren’s current choices are making is not a Paradis worth fighting for.

So what do we get? Paradis finally, truly being the last bastion of humanity on the face of the planet? A rebellion of thought rising to object to the ideals that led to this tragedy? A final chapter where our heroes have the chance to save one island from itself while the rest of the world burns?

That’s awfully limited.

Not to mention that there are always survivors. People on the outside would always live, and they would always remember what’s been done to them.

Really, nothing done here has changed anything.

“In the worst case... we’d have to repeat the last two thousand years of conflict surrounding their power. All on this tiny island.”

Humans in this world are not particularly good at avoiding the worst case scenario.

One particular human appears to be actively pursuing it.

None of his supplied reasons currently support this being a good plan.

The only thing Eren will get out of this is death, and his public statement is against that--for Paradis.

Paradis has not been excluded. It’s just going through a more specialized kind of death than the rest of the world is getting.

So in conclusion for this part of the post, everything Eren has done has made the world worse, done nothing to progress his stated goals, and is just such a collection of bad ideas that a valid explanation is that Eren has completely lost his mind and there is no logic moving this train.

That being a boring story, we’re looking down the barrel of some hardcore Reveals to liven things up.

Bon excite.

I’m not going to bother with chronological order this month because why, but also because I think there’s a good chance I’d forget to mention Hange and Levi if I waited until the end.

So. How ‘bout that Hange and Levi. Both being alive.

Genuinely, the most surprising thing to me about this is that Hange not only located a horse, but somehow found Levi some quality bandages before he started bleeding out. How that has turned into finding it in their best interests to approach Magath and Pieck remains to be seen, but I guess the Marley-Paradis dream team is not as dead as it should be.

Like. I don’t disagree that stopping Eren is a priority.

I just really have no interest in forgetting that Marley is The Worst. On the whole, I think the manga’s been rather good about balancing the humanity of the characters with their vile chosen actions, but. I like having a clear focus of hate, and don’t feel a need for them to be further humanized?

Especially when, as Bad as all Eren’s actions are, MARLEY THREW THE FIRST DOMINO AT THE HOUSE OF CARDS, SPARE A SECOND TO THINK ABOUT HOW THAT FUCKED UP PEOPLE BESIDES YOURSELVES YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES.

They can share The Worst crown when Eren steals it. That works.

Anyway, yay Hange and Levi. They join the realm of the officially not dead.

Like Falco!

Hell. Talk about awkward. Connie and Falco are both easily identifiable through their hearts. Connie’s has just been through a few more brutalities than Falco’s. He’s worn down and bitter, whereas Falco still as his eternal fount of optimism going for him.

Sasha’s dad is right; Connie will hesitate. It’s in his nature. He’s found the one thing in the world he can bring back from this war, and he’s desperate for it, but Falco is a little boy, awake and thanking him.

Connie joins the Survey Corps back when it’s a death sentence. He doesn’t run away from the hard things. He fights and protects his friends, and that’s done nothing except break him down into someone who’s considering killing a child to save his mother.

I don’t think there’s much suspense in Connie’s eventual choice. That’s not to say that Falco’s free from danger (even if Connie decides against it, deciding against something after you’ve put too many of the steps in motion... yeah), but it isn’t even a full chapter before Connie’s being confronted with the nature of his work (protecting people) and the nature of this choice (killing person).

However, there are a bunch of people wandering around on horseback in the middle of nowhere. We’ve got Connie and Falco, soon to be joined by Armin and Gabi, as well as Hange, Levi, Pieck, and Magath.

None of them are going to wind up near the walls. All the tension will have to be derived from their interactions, but what’s there? Hange, Levi, Pieck, and Magath have the most reasons to throw down, but also the most experience to know that maybe it’s time to talk. Connie’s future decision is practically written in stone, so why bother taking Falco out into the boonies? A dramatic reunion between him and Gabi isn’t going to do much we haven’t seen already. Quality bro moments for Connie and Armin? We could have done that back anywhere.

We have a cast divided in terms of geography, but not much else. Only Floch’s gang is perfectly fine with what’s going on here. Everyone else is in favor of figuring out a way to fight it. Throwing a bunch of pairs out in the woodlands when none of them are going to be fighting seems like wasted panel space.

tfw massively secret reveal in the woods like whoa and it’s a race to bring it back to the rest of the cast and explain that not all hope is lost and things are magically better

I sense a plot.

Hopefully this part of it involves less dead children.

Also, it’s impossible to tell because non-populated Paradis always looks the damn same, but there’s a chance that any number of the horse groups could be near Historia.

She gets a whole mention this chapter.

Almost like someone cares about her.

That’s two separate people in two chapters.

Whoa.

But also there’s the whole setting sun thing, and sitting outside doing nothing but glaring at the sun is a patented timeskip Historia activity. So maybe now she’ll finally have something to do.

No one else really has that, admittedly. It’s all a lot of watching Eren’s plan, thinking, “gee that’s bad,” and dealing with the fallout of who is already dying thanks to Eren’s plan. Everyone is very busy, but not providing constructive solutions to anything except pulling people out of buildings.

Based on the world as it is explained to us, there is nothing anyone can do against Eren.

Manga please. Please give me the explanation that changes this. We know it’s there.

But yeah, that creates a very anticlimactic dead space where everyone’s solving the problems in front of them, and shrugging at everything else. What else is there, really?

I think I’ll be in the minority when I make the comment that this chapter brought back more of my pity than disdain for Floch.

He’s a crappy person doing crappy things, and someone should probably shoot him in the head sooner as opposed to later. That would not be a bad thing to have happen. He’s invested in raising an empire that no one in the world needs.

He’s also alive through freak chance that left him the sole survivor of a suicide charge, and when he managed to bring his commanding officer to the people who could save him, and bring some sense to the chaos, his actions are invalidated.

Many things could be solved with Floch if he ever was implied to feel a fraction of empathy for people not himself.

That said, it’s... very glaringly obvious that this is his radicalized response to trauma.

The volunteer he kills is left with a mangled hole in his face.

That’s how many of Floch’s comrades die in Erwin’s last charge.

For their pride and obligation as Scouts, and their belief in Erwin’s strategy, they charge. And they all die.

Except for Floch.

Floch’s turned into many things over these four years. A liar is high on the list.

But this moment, and when he talks to Jean, strike true.

Jean’s in shock. Too much has happened, and he understands far too much of it. He’s completely blank, and that is a surface Floch can speak to. Floch knows, and has never forgotten, the shock and trauma the fight can cause. He knows how to put comfort, when he talks to someone like that.

“It’s over.”

He can talk about the rise of a grand new Eldian Empire all he wants, but he’s only smiling when he’s talking to Jean. He isn’t smiling over the new beginning. He’s smiling when he tells a quiet, horrified audience that the fight is done.

Floch’s not a good person. He’s lost in a variety of ways. The war of thought between Eldians and the rest of the world stripped him bare after the battle in Shiganshina flayed him, and he let all of the rot consume him.

All because he happened to live through one of the bloodiest fights in their island’s history.

He should probably be punched in the face and killed. Whichever order.

It’s still a sad fucking story.

-glances at Armin and Mikasa-

HEY SPEAKING OF

This chapter is just the rest of the 104th who haven’t officially experienced it going through their complete mental collapse.

Armin’s in hysterics while trying to hold himself together. The fact that he can still do that second part puts him at the top of the tier list. Mikasa’s lost, with her only avenue left being explaining to Armin why him running off isn’t actually going to fix anything. Connie’s out on his own, contemplating child murder. Reiner’s unconscious and better off for it. Jean’s a wreck. Annie’s spent four years in a dark hole and can’t even win a fight with Hitch. Historia’s main contribution to this arc is being sad. Eren directly caused more than half of all this.

Our Heroes.

Armin has always been the idea guy. He’s the person you ask when you don’t know what to do next. Mikasa doesn’t know what to do about Eren. Eren is literally the most important problem to solve in this world, even outside their emotional complications, so Mikasa asks Armin, her smartest friend, what to do.

Cue the waterworks. Armin goes ballistic, and just like everyone always has, yells at Mikasa for caring about the only family she has left.

She’s taken aback when Armin says he doesn’t know what to do. For the rest, there’s only sadness. She can’t even offer comfort or a denial when Armin takes in everything he’s just said and says he isn’t the one who should have survived Serum Bowl.

Mikasa and Armin have always chased after Eren. Together. They’re the most stable part of the trio. Now Eren’s destroying the world, and the first thing Armin does is lose it with his other best friend for looking to him to be her stabilizing force like he always has.

In Trost, Armin comes to realize that his friends have never looked down at him for the reasons he looks down on himself. Mikasa and Eren love him for his own good qualities. More people start to realize how smart he is, and as the plot progresses, more and more pressure piles on, with people coming to depend on his brilliant mind.

It fails him here. The one thing he’s always been able to offer simply isn’t there. Just like against Bertolt, where all he could come up with was sacrificing himself.

If that had worked the way he thought it would, Erwin would still be here. Solving all the problems Armin can’t.

Mikasa and Armin lose their best friend, and Armin flips out on the one he has left, when what they both really need is those few days of sleep and some damn hugs. Leaving both of them rather ashamed of themselves and isolated.

They’re soldiers. Their job is to keep going.

Also Mikasa’s scarf is gone, and I’d assume Louise has it, but I’m unsure of what the Drama value of that will turn into. Put a pin in it and wait.

Probably the most ominous content goes to Shadis.

The idea that the Yeagerists have the island, so blend in until it’s time to rise up... that is a horrifying potentiality. The time it will take for the Yeagerists to have control of the island is probably slightly more than it will take for Eren to destroy his first city (assuming that’s what he’s up to). If our next climax is going to be a rebellion taking the island away from the Yeagerists... we’ll see a hell of a lot of damage first.

I guess that’s a given, with where the plot is headed, but it’s still appalling to think that Paradis has come so far only to be thrown back into cages when their walls walk away.

I really hope that Shadis isn’t pulling a foreshadowing card. I’d feel more comfortable if his scene came before the scene in Marley, so it could more cleanly be marked as a link to them, instead of a link of what might come to pass in Paradis.

Though the link still stands.

Mr. Leonhart wants his damn daughter back, you fascist jackasses. Staying in line for a decade hasn’t made him forget that.

Anything I could say about Annie and Hitch would diminish my love of their time together. Hitch joins the MPs as a selfish brat, and she lives her truest self that way, but she also saves lives. When duty comes knocking, she sighs and opens the door.

Annie’s a selfish brat too. She’s not as immune to seeing other people as human as she wants to be. She would still kill everyone all over again to make it back to her dad.

Who was a right bastard until he realized he’d done fucked up.

After the long series of poor parenting we’ve gotten, it’s painfully refreshing for Annie’s dad to apologize to express how much he cares for her to her face. He might have fucked up everything else, but he was sorry and he said it. He actually took the first step in doing better, and a decade later, he’s still waiting to complete that journey with his daughter.

Yes, okay, the bar is so fucking low, but he still jumped it. The existence of genuine love at all is a long stretch better than certain other characters get.

Lots of waiting yet to come. Nothing can be done, and Colossal Titans take a long time to travel. If there isn’t a prompt list about what x character does waiting for the apocalypse yet, there should be.

Everyone in this chapter is really just waiting for everything to die. The extinction of the rest of the world is taken as an inevitability, with the only question being how you want to go down.

The world ends with a slow scream that keeps growing louder.

Someone needs to tell Eren to stop doing that.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 6

I woke up early the next morning so I could take my time getting ready and get some notes done before leaving. I slipped on my soft bunny slippers and quietly made my way downstairs.

“Morning Addison.” My dad said from the island. I jumped, not expecting him to be up this early on a Saturday.

“Jesus.” I muttered under my breath, “morning Dad.”

“You got in pretty late last night.”

“Yeah, had to wrangle Justin into the car and take him home.”

“Uh huh.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed myself a cup of tea before going back upstairs. I waved to my mom as she left the master bedroom and closed my door tightly. “How was your night last night Addison? It was good, thanks for asking dad.” I muttered to myself as I drank my tea and jotted some ideas down in my notebook.

Around ten thirty I decided it was time to start getting ready. I grabbed my panda shower cap and took a quick shower before putting on my black raspberry vanilla lotion. It was time for the real work to begin now. I stood in front of my closet and flipped through the options I had. I pulled out a few cardigan options and a few more casual dresses and paired them together on hangers before holding each option up to my body. The first option was a black cardigan and a red dress. “No, that’s too dark for a daytime coffee date.” Next up was a yellow dress with a cream cardigan. “Too bright. This cardigan is nice though….” Finally, I settled on a light denim blue dress sleeveless dress, with buttons down the middle. It hit my mid-thigh respectably and I paired it with the cream cardigan from before. Time for jewelry. Picking out a rose gold necklace with a circle pendant, my rose gold arrow bracelet, and my floral print watch band, it was time to tackle my hair and makeup. I went with a simple half up half down bun and left my second day waves mostly untouched. I did, however, fix the few curls that had completely fallen out and brushed them out with my fingers after they cooled slightly. I kept my makeup light and minimal, just some tinted moisturizer and a couple dots of concealer under my eyes set with powder, simple eyeshadow and brow powder, a thin line of brown liquid liner, nude blush, and a ‘my lips but better’ pink lipstick topped with nude gloss. Nothing too crazy, just enough to look put together. “Now to pick a pair of shoes… hmm. Let’s see. Sneakers?” I picked up my old pair of Converse. They were in less than ideal condition, especially for a first date. “Not sneakers. Flats?” I grabbed a couple of pairs but none of them really went. “No. Plus I’m short. These just make me look shorter. Maybe a pair of booties?” I pulled a pair of grey heels off the shelf, but they didn’t quite match well enough, “close, but no cigar.” I dug around in my closet for a couple of minutes, searching for the nude pair of the same shoes. “Ah ha. Found them.”

Setting the shoes by my bedroom door, I checked my watch. It was just after noon. I went downstairs to grab an apple from the kitchen. “Well don’t you look nice.” My mom mused, softly from her seat on the couch. She appeared to be grading papers and didn’t really look up. Teacher eyes. Dad was sitting opposite her reading the new issue of The Economist.

“Oh yeah, I’m just going to Monet’s for coffee with a friend from school. I have to leave soon.” After our short exchange, I zipped back upstairs to gather my things. I took a second to decide if I should bring my notebook. Never know when inspiration will hit. At the last second, I threw it into my bag, along with my favourite pen and slipped my shoes on. “I’m leaving now.” I called to my parents as I walked out the door.

“Have fun at the mall sweetie.” Dad mumbled after me, not even looking up from his magazine.

I arrived at Monet’s at five minutes to one and Monty was already there, waiting for me. The white shirt and red flannel he was wearing did wonders for his arms and toned chest. I tore my eyes away and mentally wiped away the drool, hoping it wasn’t too obvious I was staring. Looking up, I smiled at him and waved at him, my accent glitter pink nail polish catching the light. He waved back and I started towards him. “You look amazing.” He said, taking me in.

“You look good too. Not at all hungover.” I replied, looking down shyly, even after my quip and our public kiss the night before.

“What can I say, a cup of coffee and a shower work wonders.” He joked. It was slightly awkward while we waited in line. We hadn’t really talked much outside of classes, so we weren’t sure where to start.

“Do you want to share a slice of cake?” Monty asked.

“Sure. Anything but carrot.”

“Chocolate?”

“Delicious. The best kind of cake.”

“I agree.”

It was our turn and we did the totally cliché thing of starting at the same time. “What can I get you?” The barista asked.

“Can I get a-.”

“May I have-.”

Monty turned to me, “you first.”

“May I have a non-fat latte with a cinnamon stick please?”

“Sure thing. Did you want a syrup at all?”

“No thank you. Just a plain latte and a stick of cinnamon.” She typed in my request and turned her attention to Monty.

“And yourself?”

“I’ll just have a black dark roast. And a slice of chocolate cake with two forks.”

“Coming right up.” She replied, smiling as she typed in the order and Monty paid her. I scouted a table near the back and pointed it out to my date. He nodded at me motioned for me to go over.

“I’ve got this.” I nodded and made my way over. To pass the time I pulled out my notebook and doodled a bit, waiting for either him to come over or inspiration to hit. It wasn’t long before he followed and sat down.

“One non-fat cinnamon sticked latte for the lady.” He flourished, sliding the cup over to me. I smiled and blushed, before noticing he was trying to sneak a peek at my notebook. I shut it quickly and slipped it into my bag. He chuckled.

“Secret diary Addison?” At least we have moved past awkwardly stating facts. I stirred my latte as he watched me, waiting for a response.

“No, not secret. Just private.”

“So private you brought it on a date?”

“I don’t leave the house without it. And we never explicitly said this was a date.” I smirked.

“Well I’m saying it now. It’s a date.”

“Alright then. We have established that, so does this mean we can break into the cake now?” I asked, picking up my fork.

He laughed and his eyes shone under the soft lighting. “I thought you’d never ask. I didn’t want to be rude.” Picking up his fork, he urged me to take the first bite. It was wonderful. Perfectly moist and not too dense. Just the right cake to icing ratio, the chocolate not overpowering. I could feel my pupils dilate and watched Montgomery smirk. “Good?”

“Yes. Taste it.” He eagerly took a bite and I watched as his eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. He took the time to really savour the bite. When he was done, he looked at me, a sated look on his face.

“That was the best bite of cake I have ever had.” He whispered, as though speaking at a normal volume would ruin the moment. “I know right?” I whispered back.

“Do we take another bite?”

“I think so. Together?”

“On three.”

I nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.” We said together, sticking our forks in the chocolate deliciousness, and biting at the same time. It was still great the second time around. After another bite each, we set the cake aside. I blew on my still hot latte and took a tentative sip. Monty was looking at me intently when I put my cup down.

“What?” I asked, my brow furrowing slightly.

“You have a little….” He motioned to his face. I did the same, apparently missing whatever was marring my face. “Here.” He reached over, swiping his thumb just above my lip, showing me the bit of icing before licking it off in a way that was somehow not gross, but rather, incredibly attractive. He took a drink from his cup and continued, “I’m surprised you didn’t bring a novel with you Addy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I hardly ever see you without your nose in a book or with a book in hand.”

“I do other things you know.”

“Mhmm. I’ve heard Justin talk about you in the locker room.”

“He talks about me?”

“Sometimes. Nothing bad I don’t think. I don’t really pay much attention to him if I’m being honest.”

“Huh. Okay. Well, I do. Other things I mean. And a lot of the time what I’m reading is for AP English Lit.”

“Like what?” He asked, sounding genuinely interested. He even sat up more and leaned closer to me. Wow. He actually seems to want to know.

“I like to cook. I like photography and designing photo albums. I’ve also been thinking of taking up knitting.”

“Busy girl then. Knitting? Think I could get a scarf sometime?”

“In California?”

“Maybe I’ll go somewhere it gets cold someday, who knows?”

“What about you? I mean, I know you’re an athlete. But what about when you’re not on the field or practicing? What do you like to do, just for fun?”

“I guess that is my hobby. Being an athlete is kind of what I do.”

“Oh come on. You have to have a hobby. Everyone has a hobby.”

“Would you judge me if I said video games?”

“Monty. I’m friends with Alex Standall. Video games are like… almost exclusively how he spends his time when he’s not with Jess or Hannah.”

“That’s fair. No judgement then?”

“Not from me.” I smiled. We chatted about mindless things for a while, like favourites and things we didn’t like. It was nice. We made our way through our drinks and our cake while we talked.

“Did you want another coffee?” I asked him.

“Sure.” He replied, reaching for his wallet.

“No, no. My turn. Snack?”

“If they have a lemon bar, that would be nice.” He replied, reluctantly putting his wallet away. Why do guy’s jeans get such big pockets? It really isn’t fair.

“I’ll be right back.” I said, grabbing my wallet. I ordered for us and got myself a cinnamon twist. I gave him a thumbs up when I caught his eye.

Once back at the table, I began picking apart my cinnamon twist.

“Is cinnamon a favourite then?”

“No, I would call it more of a like than a favourite.”

“Let me guess, vanilla?”

“No. Guess again?”

“Lemon?”

“Nope. Good, but no.”

“Some kind of berry?”

“Not even close. My favourite flavour is mint.”

“Cold and spicy. Would not have pinned you for cold and spicy.”

“More allspice?”

“Definitely what I would have guessed.”

“My turn?”

“Please.”

“Hmmm… black dark roast coffee, chocolate, lemon….” I thought out loud, “I would say vanilla, but you don’t seem like the type to do vanilla.” I left the connotation and innuendo without further comment. He didn’t comment on it either. I thought for a few minutes. He watched me think as we sipped our fresh coffees. “Cardamom.” I said finally. He blinked at me in surprise.

“That’s right. How did you guess?”

“It’s complex. It has layers.”

“And you think I have layers?”

“Yes. You’re complex. Interesting.” We didn’t tread further on the topic. Not first date discussion.

“What do you want to do?” He asked.

“Like, this afternoon? Or are you asking big picture?”

“Big picture but both is good.”

“This afternoon? Laundry and homework that I couldn’t do last night.”

“You want to do that?”

“It gets it done so I can enjoy Sunday doing nothing.”

“Alright, that makes sense. Big picture?”

I looked down into my latte, suddenly very shy. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I highly doubt that Addy.” He replied, reaching across the table to take my hand. I felt a jolt in my arm but resisted the urge to look up.

“I want to be a writer.” I spoke quietly. I wasn’t sure if he heard me, too busy waiting for the laughter that was sure to come. When it didn’t, I looked up. “You’re not laughing.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“I don’t know.” I said, lamely.

“What kind of writer do you want to be?”

“I want to be an author. I want to write novels.”

“Why would I think that’s stupid?” he asked, confused.

“Because everyone else does?”

“I don’t.”

“That makes one, maybe two people who aren’t me who feel that way.”

“Two?”

“Justin. I think he only said it’s not because he is my best friend though.”

“What about your parents?”

I laughed. “My parents think I’m joking. ‘You can’t pay bills with books Addison.’”

“I think there are plenty of authors who make fairly decent livings actually.”

“I know. But my parents… my dad has an MBA from Stanford. My mom has a PhD in History from UCLA and is a tenured professor at Berkeley. Writing novels isn’t in the cards for me.”

He seemed to come to a realization then. “Your private notebook?”

“Never know when inspiration will hit.” I smiled.

“I thought it was a different kind of private.” He wiggled his brows.

“Only sometimes. Have to be in a certain headspace for it to be that kind of private.”

His eyes widened, “Addison Hawthorne!”

“What? It’s not like it’s wrong. It’s fun sometimes.”

“If you say so. But honestly. I don’t think it’s stupid.”

“What about you?” I asked, taking a bite of my cinnamon twist. Not going to dip it in my coffee on a first date. Weird food things are a fourth date thing.

“I mean, the dream is pro sports. I haven’t really thought about a fallback yet.  I will have one of course. I’ll go to school for something, I just haven’t decided yet.”

“Would you choose football or baseball?”

“Probably football. I like it more. I mean, I love baseball too. It’s just not something I see myself doing for the entirety of my professional career.”

“That makes sense. I think if I had to choose another career, I would probably choose something to do with public policy. Ole Miss has an amazing public policy leadership degree and it’s interdisciplinary so my parents would only be able to complain about the school.”

“Your parents would complain if you got in to Ole Miss?”

“Yes. Not as much as they would complain about NYU though. Dad might actually keel over if I went there.” Monty tried really hard not to laugh but couldn’t help it. “I know. They just want me to go where they think I should go. If dad had his way, I would be shipped off to England for business at Oxford or something.”

“Oh, I can see you loving that.”

“Yes, it would be fantastic.” I said, sarcastically. I didn’t know whether to ask about his parents and their thoughts on his future. I also hadn’t expected him to have anything figured out past high school, we are only sophomores after all. I was slowly growing uncomfortable with the line of questioning. Thankfully, he changed the subject to something more manageable.

“Are you really as picky about pens as Justin bitches about in the locker room?”

“He talks about me?”

“Yeah. Usually only good things, I can assure you. Pens though. That he complains about. I think it’s all in good fun, but pens and some of your other quirks can get him going.”

“Huh. Interesting. He talks about you too by the way. Less nice though.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. But about these pens?”

“I guess you could say I’m picky. I like gel pens and they have to be medium point. If I use a liquid ink pen, then it has to be a fine point.”

“He said something about colours.”

“Yes, I use coloured pens for notes. Each class is a different colour.” He looked at me funny, “it’s a girl thing.” I explained.

“I see. He said you only like black bic pens?”

“That’s right. I didn’t realize you listened to him that much.”

“I don’t usually….”

“Usually?”

“When he’s talking about the girl I like, then yeah. I listen a little more.”

I blushed again, while I sipped my coffee, watching him over the rim of my glass. He admitted he likes you. “Does Justin really talk about me?”

“Yeah, mostly to bitch about you being an asshole. He does acknowledge that you aren’t bad at sports.”

“Not bad?”

“That’s as big of a compliment as you’ll get from Justin.”

“Not surprised. You listen to him talk about me?”

“Well. Uh. Yes?”

“Often?”

“It’s not like he can complain to Bryce about you.” I redirected.

“Right. Because he can’t complain to Bryce. That the only reason Addison?”

“I don’t know Montgomery. I guess you’ll just have to figure that out on our next date.” I was taken aback by my own forwardness. Where did that come from? Monty’s brow raised. Oh no. There isn’t going to be another date. He probably just did this to have something to joke about with the guys later. I just made a complete idiot of myself.

“I thought it was my turn to ask you on a date.”

“Oh.” I said. “Okay. I take it back then?”

“Nah, it’s okay. Next time I’ll ask you.”

“O-okay.” I stuttered, my blush returning once again. “Did you want to go get ice cream or something next week?”

“Wednesday? 4:30?”

“That works for me.” I told him, smiling.

“It’s a date.” We stood and before parting ways, he leaned down and kissed me softly. I smiled at him as we left the café, careful to not leave together. I replayed the kiss in my mind the whole way home.

[ashley-jones]

The Kings Mate

Chapter 2

The New Queen Of The West

Warning: this story ideals with smut, abuse, rape, violence, blood, marking, mating, underage marriage, underage pregnancy

She sat on her horse listening to her fiancé’s roars in the mist of the morning, leading the north to the Western lands. But also scouting to make sure no dangers occurs to his future mate and her family. The air was filled with a light due as the sun was slowly beginning to rise causing a beautiful glow on the snow. She noticed her fire mate had froze in the distance looking back and sat down in his large dog form. She smiled and edged her horse to walk faster. Once over she looked up at the dog and slowly raised her hand out in which the demon placed his large nose against her hand making her smile softly. The butterflies in her stomach growing as she smoothed her hand gently over the soft fur while waiting for the other to catch up. NO! She wasn’t supposed to be falling in love..Is she falling in love with this man..? Well who wouldn’t, a lord, and one of the most powerful demon lords that walk the lands. What woman wouldn’t fall in love, but she was the lucky one to be chosen.. She shifted her hand away when he quickly went back to his human form smiling lightly at the small female. She smiled softly straightening herself out while blushing. Her thoughts went back to the night before, the way he had kissed her in the gardens. It was a simple innocent type of kiss, but the type of kiss that shows dominance and love. She wanted more, she wanted to feel his hand on her; feel his claws rack up her skin and drag across the most forbidden areas no one has ever seen. Maybe she was falling in love, because each took she looked at him her eyes glazed and her stomach flipped. Her heart pounding as he moved closer slowly picking the female up and nodding towards one of the guard to take her horse, after just jumped up onto a cliff area to get away from the group. She held onto his shoulder surprised by what he had done. He slowly sat her down and looked over the cliff, sun rising in the background but from up there you could see the Western lands. She looked at it with wide eyes, the scene was beautiful. He looked down at her smiling as his fur blew in wind along with his long ponytail, her kimono shifting slightly with the winds and a few strands of hair fell from her braid framing her face perfectly. She was innocent, pure, beautiful, and untouched. The perfect bride for any male, and her talk of children the night before only made him more excited to mate with the Phoenix. The children would be strong, with blood of a Phoenix and a full blooded dog demon. She had mentioned she wanted a boy, that would grace long silver hair and gorgeous gold eyes; but turned a beautiful red when he showed his dog demon; marking across his cheeks and a beautiful mark that deemed him prince of the west. She knew she wanted, and she knew what she hoped for. She wanted to live a happy life away from her father and his thirst for power. She wanted to be in the hands of someone who will protect her, just as she would protect them. She was the perfect fit for the new queen of the West. She’s make a beautiful mate, a wonderful mother, and an amazing warrior.

She looked up at the lord noticing he was looking down at her already. She turned so she was facing him. She was in love..She was smitten with the man.. She gently placed her hand against his torso while moving closer, his swords lightly pressing against her stomach, his arms slowly wrapping around her waist. She pushed herself up on her tip toes as he leaned down, their noses touching as her breathing ghosted over his lips. It’s felt like hours before he finally slammed his lips firmly against hers, her arms moving up his chest and quickly went up around his neck, kissing back. His tongue ghosting out and striking her lip but she didn’t comply with opening her mouth, only to gasp as he fangs etched lightly on her lower lip. Tongue attacking hers and the two immediately fighting for dominance, the demon lord obviously winning. Before she knew it he had lifted her up and her back collided with a tree, his claws digging into her now exposed thigh, as whines were forced from her and mumbled due to the kiss. Finally he moved away and quickly went down to her neck leaving the female panting and whining for more of the demons kisses. A gasp left her lips when she felt his fangs trace roughly against her throat. Moans escaped her lips when she felt the demon press his hips directly against her most private area. Claws trailing up her thigh, pushing the kimono up until it bunchted her stomach. “Tell me to continue mate~” he growled out. His eyes red showing his beast had pretty much taken over. “P-please don’t s-stop” she moaned out, feeling his hip grind into her again. Her panties most likely now ruined with her essence, but she could care less; the only thing she wished for was for him to touch her. “Good girl.” He growled against her throat. He pushed the female up further holding her still as she removed his 2 swords from his hip, along with the one satured behind him. His armor soon joining. She tried to reach down to untie his obi but her clawed hand slammed her arms up above her head growling deeply; letting her know not to touch. She moaned softly as his other hand ripped the cloth covering her leaking cunt. A loud growl rumbled through him at the sight of her innocence dripping down her thighs. He released her arms and kneeled down grabbing her right leg and quickly placing it over his shoulder, digging into her cunt as it was his last meal. A loud moan left her lips in which she quickly covered her mouth, she’s never expireced something like this before. His tongue was tracing up and down slit, before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucked harshly on it, causing a loud moan to release from her. She tried her best to silence herself, but it wasn’t working too well. Her hand quickly went down grabbing onto his shoulder, not wanting to touch his hair without permission. Her body jolted, and her fangs began digging into her hand, her stomach tightening before she released. Her thighs shaking against his shoulders, and pleasured tears filled her eyes. He drank it up, enjoying the taste; and he didn’t dare to lose a single drop of the females innocence. He lowered her leg and wiped his mouth standing up and doing his kimono. “Our pups will be the grace of our marriage~” he growled. “You will be my queen, my mate, an the mother of my pups.”

[sansatully]

i guess it’s a nielan with past xiyao

Modern AU in which Lan Xichen runs the worst vegan restaurant ever and has no regular customer, except this big gymrat guy keeps coming by every day to pick up an anemic looking grain bowl and stammer over every word of their interaction. That’s it. That’s the story.

When Lan Xichen told his brother and uncle that he was quitting his job at the family law firm to open a vegan restaurant in Gastown, Lan Qiren, Esq. reacted exactly as his nephew had predicted. 

They had been at yum cha, as was their tradition, at the restaurant that the family had frequented for three generations in East Vancouver. The esteemed Mr. Lan Qiren, with his implacable expression, merely placed the cup of tea he had been holding in his hand down in front of him, gazed focused on his lap, and breathed a long sigh.

“Uncle, if you’ll hear my explanation,” Xichen said placatingly, flicked his eyes over this brother’s equally impenetrable gaze in a silent plea for support, and turned back to his uncle, whom he feared will succumb to a heart condition out of immense stress one of these days. “It is true that business at the law firm has progressed in a quite positive direction, and I know that I am to make partner soon. It is for this very reason that I feel quite comfortable leaving the law firm while it is on such a favorable trajectory. Wangji will finish his law education this year and will no doubt pass the bar on his first try. I have all the confidence in the world that he will contribute immensely to the prestige of the firm upon my departure, under your direct guidance.”

Lan Qiren is a difficult man to read. In the courtroom, he is rumored to be a large lake covered with a thin sheet of ice. Placid on the surface, treacherous to step upon, and teeming with life and movements underneath. It is due to this that his name, and by association, GusuLan, LLP.,  is feared and respected alike across the world of corporate law in this part of Canada. Lan Xichen felt quite keenly the ice in his own stomach as he watched his uncle mull over words that he knew would be quite difficult to hear, especially in the dead silence of the private room they had reserved.

His brother, Wangji, adopted Lan Qiren’s posture, pointedly avoiding Xichen’s gaze. Xichen could see in his brother’s expression something akin to resignation and disappointment, and he worked to stamp down a small jolt of guilt at the thought of their uncle’s expectation falling entirely onto Wangji’s admittedly capable shoulders. But Wangji was actually passionate about the law, as Xichen himself was passionate about few things in life. Xichen knew that his brother would flourish at GusuLan and truly enjoy his work, the rules and regulations an immovable part of Wangji’s life, as Xichen himself chafed at the confines set out as the eldest son of the main branch of the family.

It had not been an easy decision to come by. 

The chrysanthemum tea had cooled in the pot while they sat, each one avoiding the other’s gaze, in identical positions of unnaturally straight backs and neatly folded hands on thick-wove linen napkins. Xichen thought briefly about ringing the bell for a server to bring up a fresh pot of oolong. They could certainly use something a bit more bracing, or at least he could. His uncle possessed the unique ability to shrink him from a capable, Yale-educated, respected real estate lawyer to a child in trouble for failing to memorize a difficult passage to satisfaction in the allotted time.

Finally, Lan Qiren spoke. “Where did I go wrong with you, Lan Xichen?” His uncle’s eyes were sharp and pinning, and Xichen mentally recited the family rules to stop from cowering in front of his uncle.

Do not sit with a disgraceful pose. Be a filial child. Do not act impulsively. Be strict with yourself.

He remembered, too, another rule, one not often spoken out loud for whatever reasons. 

Love and respect yourself.

“Xichen could not have asked for a better teacher, Uncle,” he replied, bowing his head slightly in deference. “Whatever shortcomings can be found within me is my own doing. I humbly beg for your forgiveness.” He turned to Wangji, hoping that his brother could feel his sincerity. “And yours. I understand it is a shirking of my duty as the eldest in the family. I have been forced to confront myself over the last few months, and I can see no other way to proceed. Please allow me to hand in my resignation effective within two weeks.”

Wangji’s eyes were as the center of a storm, deadly calm within the swirl of chaos. “Jin Guangyao,” he said simply, and Xichen knew in that moment that there was nothing he could hide or had to hide from his brother. 

“The younger son of the Lanling Jin hedge fund?” His uncle asked, frowning. “Jin Guangyao’s wedding was just last month. What does this have to do with you, Xichen?”

Lan Xichen prided himself, just a little and righteously, on his ability to prepare well for unpleasant interactions and his uncanny way of navigating difficult conversations. He had known that this particular yum cha was going to be less than perfectly pleasant with the news he had to bring. This, however, was not a turn in the conversation that he had prepared for. 

To tell the truth, or to continue this charade of a life imagined for him by others. He had already taken the first steps to get away, and yet, he did not know if he was ready for the repercussion of this admission, if he made it. 

“After Guangyao’s wedding, I realized what I wanted most from life, Uncle,” Xichen said. A half-truth, a lie only by omission. Somewhere within the family annals likely recorded such conversations as moments of shame brought upon the family, but Xichen would rather risk the small disgrace. “To thy own self be true,” he said quietly, his hands only minutely tightening on his lap. “I want to step away from the family business. Carve my own path, for once, without the Lan name behind me.”

Lan Qiren sighed, leaned forward, and steepled his fingers on the table, mindful of the empty platters of food still arranged in front of him. “Huan’er,” he said, “I am no longer young. Soon I will not be able to lead the firm anymore. Wangji is still in school as of yet. Have I really raised you to abandon your family? Quoting Westerners… I knew I should have insisted on sending you both to school in Shanghai.”

Lan Wangji, who until this point had remained in contemplative silence aside from his singular, poignant remark, quietly entered the conversation. “I will try my best, Uncle. Xichen-xiong.” Xichen felt a warm bloom of comfort in his chest as his brother met his eyes, communicating so much in so few words. At least Wangji would be on his side, no matter what revelations would be declared.

“Uncle, I do not want to spend my life in regrets.” Like my father. The words remained unspoken, hung in the air among them. Wangji let out an almost imperceptible gust of breath. Lan Qiren, for his part, had become a frozen statue.

“You have a year,” Lan Qiren finally said decisively. “Your… silly experiment. If it is not a success within a year, you’ll put it away and come back to the firm. This is my condition, Xichen. You will not find a more generous offer even if we sit here for five more days.” 

A year. It would be enough. Xichen had never failed at anything in his life, and at this, he would also succeed.

“Thank you, Uncle,” he said, smiling serenely, only the frantic beatings of his heart betraying his nerves. “I will make you proud.”

“Mm,” Lan Qiren grunted as if in pain. He picked up his chopsticks from their graceful holder, continued the meal, and the Lan brothers followed suit in silence.

_________

Opening a restaurant is hard work. Xichen had done all the appropriate market research, scouted the location, located the supply chain from several local farms, and secured the appropriate funding from a combination of small business loans and his own personal savings. The private trust in his name, set up by his father upon Xichen’s birth, sat untouched, a stern reminder of the privilege that he had been born into. It was a safety net that Xichen was adamant he would not use, but still, it existed. And its very existence, Xichen knew, allowed for this crazy, foolish venture to even take place.

A crazy, foolish venture it had been. Growing up within the strict traditions of the Lan family, Xichen had been indoctrinated into a plant-based lifestyle since birth, with the exception of his mother’s milk and assorted dairy during infancy and very young toddlerhood. Wangji had been raised the same way, and the two had grown into tall, well-formed young men, reaching a full height of just over six feet, well-proportioned with lean muscles as was considered proper for young men of the Lan family. A combination of daily strength and endurance training, a strict diet regimen of lean protein and complex starch and very little fat and excess sodium--and one could surmise very little flavor--had proven to produce rather fine specimens of strength and grace, said the family dietician. There is no reason the Lan diet cannot find traction outside of the family, especially with the growing collective consciousness about healthful eating and plant-based lifestyle.

It had always been Xichen’s dream to set out and make something of himself outside of the confines of Gusu Lan rules, and so preposterous a dream it was that he dared not vocalize it, even to himself, until it seemed that life had lost all of its luster after Jin Guangyao ended things with him. “Family duties,” A-Yao had said, eyes lowered in contrition. “I cannot go against my father’s wishes. Xichen-xiong… please forgive me.”

Power families have always placed shackles upon their children. It is a reciprocal, symbiotic relationship. The offspring benefits from the prestige and wealth that their lineage brings, and must necessarily be prepared to give all it can in return. At Guangyao’s wedding day, Xichen had stood there in the middle of the pew, surrounded by the upper echelon of Chinese society in Vancouver, and clapped as he watched the love of his life glide down the aisle, his beautiful bride in arm. Xichen felt as if the mask he wore would crack at any second, that with the graze of the lightest breeze he would keel over from loss, that the straightness of his posture would soon snap into a bow of agony. And Guangyao looked happy, but how could he not? His bride was a rare beauty, her family position in society enviable, her fortune vast. An excellent match, especially for an illegitimate younger son. 

Xichen knew that this world could no longer be for him. 

But the fast-casual vegan restaurant. Xichen had always been rather confident in his ability to nourish himself. He had done so all those years in undergrad and law school away from home and the quiet bustle of the Lan family kitchen. It was true that his friends did not always enjoy the food he cooked, but then again, they were rather voracious meat eaters and often failed to even fake enthusiasm at the possibility of a meal without meat. Xichen never took offense. He liked what he had procured for himself, and now, back on the West Coast in an admittedly crunchy area of town, he knew that he could not ask for a better market for his particular brand of health-conscious dining. He hired a couple of younger Lan cousins who were still in high school to bus the table and man the cash register, a couple more to prep ingredients in the open kitchen. Complete transparency between customers and food. As for the recipes, they were a mixture of the kind of food the Lan chefs prepared for him throughout his life, combined with a couple of recipes of Xichen’s own creation, all designed with maximal nutrition and sustainability in mind.

So it was rather jarring that after the very first day of the grand opening, after the restaurant had filled to capacity and news of its appearance was well-covered by the local media, that Xichen did not see a repeat of that crowd the following days. In fact, the restaurant was designed for a fast turnover, catering mostly to the lunch crowd grabbing a nutritious bite to eat in between long business meetings. Yet, it seemed that the potential of this purpose was never truly realized. The restaurant saw a scattering of harried-looking office workers dashing in quickly, surveyingthe menu and offerings, and stammering out something incomprehensible before just as quickly dashing away. It had been three weeks since the grand opening, and Xichen could count on one hand the number of repeat faces he remembered coming in. Considering his excellent memory, Xichen was sure of his calculation. 

It was, in fact, one singular person. Like clockwork, the man came in at one o’clock in the afternoon, eyes darting around the staff on duty before making a show of studying the menu before ordering the same thing he always did. A simple grain bowl, topped with colorful vegetables and grilled tempeh. Xichen was particularly proud of this recipe, one of his own creations, prepared with minimal processing and absolutely no sodium or spices to detract from the pure flavors of the ingredients. A particularly elegant meal. The man had good taste, Xichen must admit. 

Guangyao had always complimented his cooking, but then again, Guangyao had only wanted to please, until he couldn’t any longer.

Their eyes met a few times, but the man appeared to be quite shy even as his large, athletic frame would suggest otherwise. Xichen very much wanted to appear welcoming to his customers, especially to his only repeat one, but it seemed to make the other man rather uncomfortable every time Xichen even as much as attempted to sustain eye contact. 

No matter. The Lan family understood distance and privacy and personal boundaries. 

When he closed the restaurant for the evening, Xichen stood at the empty counter and surveyed his empty kingdom, a strange sort of feeling coming over him as he examined the gleaming newness of the furniture, the spotless floor, the stainless steel appliances that had meant everything to him upon preparation for the restaurant’s opening.

Perhaps it was naivety that let him expect more joy from this venture.

A year. He had one year to make it count, and perhaps stubbornness was one of the less vaunted Lan traits, but it was one that Lan Xichen had never known how to escape.