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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Sometimes if you pray to someone enough, they become a god. The people of Yunmeng have been praying to Jiang Cheng since he rebuilt Lotus Pier.

Everyone thought it started later.

With Jiang Cheng rebuilding the Lotus Pier with his own hands, side by side with cultivators and common folk alike, working on it night and day – the real cause for his enthusiasm was insomnia, spurred on by endless nightmares, but to an outsider it looked a lot like virtue. When there was no more building to be done, he took up his sword and went night-hunting: not for fame or glory, though he would hardly refuse those, but simply to have something to do. Nothing, no matter how small, escaped his grasp.

It’s said that Hanguang-Jun went where the chaos was, but he never needed to come to Yunmeng. Jiang Cheng, as terrifying as he might be, a force of nature in wind and lightning, would always get there first.

Everyone thought it was because of Zidian.

After all, to a common person, what sort of person can call lightning into their hand with little more than a thought? Even cultivators, rarely seen and mysterious, could not reliably do such a thing, and Jiang Cheng’s ancestors had generally been respectful of the ancient spiritual weapon, using it only for war.

It wasn’t that Jiang Cheng wasn’t respectful of Zidian. It was only that in time it became as much a part of him as his own right hand, and he had never learned to stay his hand when anger filled him from head to toe. Zidian crackled on his knuckles when his nephew irritated him, when something when wrong, when he felt upset – the sight of the lightning comforted him, reminded him of his mother’s devotion, and let him feel powerful when he felt powerless.

Still, it did mean the common people saw a lot more of it than they had before.

Some people – including Jiang Cheng – thought it was because of Wei Wuxian.

The majority thought only that Wei Wuxian, that daring genius, that talent that hadn’t been seen in a thousand years, had done something; the minority who knew what it was that he had done, the truth of the golden core settled in Jiang Cheng’s belly, believed that it was Wei Wuxian’s merits that had set Jiang Cheng on the road to glory.

Those people were all wrong.

It was true that cultivation was a means to fight against one’s fate, and that it could, if perfected, give a man the chance to leap up to a higher branch and become a god in a single moment, the right opportunity of fate and luck and merit.

That just wasn’t what happened, that’s all.

Wei Wuxian was a talent not seen in a thousand years, that much was true, but the same could be said for many others in his generation: times of anguish were often fertile grounds for geniuses. Hanguang-jun himself, who took Wei Wuxian as his husband, was very nearly perfect in his sect’s cultivation style, upright and righteous even beyond their expectations, and yet he also fulfilled the requirements of Wei Wuxian’s Jiang sect, being free in his heart and defying all odds to claim the man he loved. If there was anyone the cultivation world could place their hopes on, it was him.

Not Jiang Cheng. Easily angered, overly emotional, too competitive, overly trusting, self-sacrificing yet selfish – not Jiang Cheng.

And yet when the lightning tribulation came, when the opportunity to ascend to the heavens appeared, it appeared to Jiang Cheng, not Hanguang-Jun.

The truth was: Jiang Cheng did not cultivate to greatness and godhood.

The truth was:

It began years ago.

The lady of the Jiang sect was cultivating alongside her husband, with her two children brought along to gain experience by proxy, but night-hunting was sometimes a dangerous sport and this particular evening they left them behind in the small, obscure village at the foot of the mountains; a place that no one cared about, nobody noticed.

Jiang Yanli was polite and kind to their well-paid hosts; Jiang Cheng was restless, and snuck out the window to go walk around.

He had very little spiritual energy back then, being only a small child, but his mother was fierce and strict, and he knew the basics. When he found the village children grieving over an injured dog, which panted and whined in agony, he squatted down at once and stained himself to the utmost to transfer his little store of energy to the dog.

The dog was healed, and tottered to its feet, happily licking the faces of all those who came by.

“How did you do that?” one of the village children asked, but, embarrassed at the new experience of being talked to by a child his own age, Jiang Cheng fled instead of answering.

The money the Jiang sect leaders had spent was used, eventually, to send the best and brightest of those children to school, and it just so happened that that child, too, was a talent that hadn’t been seen for years; he scored well in the imperial examinations and became an official. He never forgot his home, going back often to Yunmeng and offering money and help to all those who asked; his little obscure village whose name was commonly forgotten became wealthy, and its children, now grown, spread out across the land – and with them went their little superstitions, formed in their youth, of praying for good luck from a youth dressed all in purple, who’d said his name was Jiang Cheng.

It didn’t take long before someone connected the local god that had given the children such fortune with the Jiang Cheng that swept through their lands like a scourge aimed at evildoers: a man who had survived his own family’s ruin and resurrected a dead sect from the ashes all on his own, a man who summoned the wind and lightning at will to scold his impudent nephew, a man who would come no matter how far the distance at the merest hint that a demonic cultivator had emerged to torment the common people, refusing to tolerate injustice.

The stories, exaggerated through retelling, spread through the common people.

It began at the outskirts of Yunmeng, where the cultivators and cynical wits of the Lotus Pier rarely went; by the time it reached further in, the stories had become fantastical and personal – a sea captain swearing that he’d been rescued from pirates by a lightning storm that sent down purple lightning, a village talking about how Jiang Cheng had come in person to eliminate a demonic cultivator that would have become the next Yiling Patriarch if he’d been left unchecked, a housewife shyly whispering about how her children had become filial at last after a mere glimpse of him.

When the Jiang sect cultivators, travelling around, first heard the stories, they laughed in delight – teasing their too-prickly sect leader was a popular pastime, since his bark was invariably worse than his bite – and immediately set to telling even more stories. And so the tales of what Jiang Cheng had achieved during the Sunshot Campaign, previously limited to the world of cultivators, began to circulate among the common people, and even made its way to a certain court official in a far-off capital, who told his Emperor about it.

It was truly a coincidence that around the same time, the Emperor’s favorite son encountered a misfortune, surrounded and assaulted by wicked creatures, and that Jiang Cheng, night-hunting in the area because he couldn’t sleep and because he simply refused to stay one moment longer in the house where Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian were stuffing everyone full of dog food, was bored enough to intervene with a flick of his finger.

The Emperor was still laughing about his earnest official’s little backwater superstition, for which he’d indulgently lit a candle as a reward for an especially fine display of merit – such a charming request, so naïve and innocent, he could hardly believe it, and he’d added the gold and honors the work had really deserved on top as a matter of course – when he received the letter from his son, telling him about how purple lightning had descended from nowhere in a night with a clear sky, saving him from certain death.

Only a sailor was more superstitious than an Emperor.

In his overwhelming relief, he ordered a temple to be built, and the poor folk of the capital flocked over to see who this new god was: it turned out that part of his legend involved dogs, which was fairly rare for a god, and since plenty of people in the capital had dogs that they treasured like part of the family, it was easy enough to accept him.

Eventually the story of the temple (and its copycats, quickly constructed or converted) made its way, carried by merchants, to Lanling; the young sect leader there rolled around on the floor laughing and insisted on going to visit every single one of them.

He brought his spiritual dog, his friends, and a very great deal of spending money.

Every single town that had put up a temple to the god of purple lightning was suddenly flooded with good fortune: money, money, and more money, with cultivators in yellow competing with those in white to buy better gifts for those at home, and the gifts they liked best of all were the ones sold by the temples.

Even the local dogs suddenly all became well behaved after meeting with the cultivator’s husky.

(It wasn’t a husky, it was a fairy! One of the villagers insisted. You’re all blind – didn’t you hear the way the cultivator in yellow and gold referred to it? I’m telling you, it was a fairy rescued by Jiang Cheng years ago and given to the cultivator as a gift –)

Good fortune begets more good fortune: even more temples began to be built, and the ones that had become rich overnight had not yet had time to formulate the habits of the wealthy; they were initially inclined to spend their money locally, rewarding good deeds, rather than consolidate influence or seek position, and that encouraged even more people to come to pray. Eventually, of course, one of the temples ended up in the hands of an ambitious man, who used the unexpected fortune to raise his family’s stature, and that made the temples a matter of interest to the wealthy, too.

It was a joke in the Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng going around with red ears and a furious temper that refused to hear a further word about it – not that that stopped anyone, most especially Wei Wuxian, who had taken to telling outrageous tales of the godly Jiang Cheng everywhere he and Hanguang-jun travelled.

Outside of it, though, it became less and less of a joke, especially as the wheel turned and the generations shifted; what one generation thought of as a novelty, the next accepted as a matter of course.

And so one day, the skies above Yunmeng opened up, the lightning tribulation descending, and –

“Hanguang-jun! Senior Wei! A story has just come – Jiang Cheng ascended to immortality!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wei Wuxian said with a smile.

“It’s true,” the junior insisted. “I’ve heard about it from three different sources – I’ve even heard that Sect Leader Jin has already gone to the Lotus Pier to investigate; I heard the senior people there sent him a letter, most urgently.”

“An urgent letter?” Wei Wuxian asked, smile starting to fade. “Lan Zhan, do you think something actually happened to that brat Jiang Cheng?”

Lan Wangji shrugged, indicating that he didn’t know.

Wei Wuxian huffed, amused, and looked up to the sky. “Hey, Jiang Cheng! If you’ve really ascended to the heavens and become a god, you’d better come and tell me yourself, or I’ll never forgive you!”

The sky was clear that day, with only a scattering of pale white clouds.

There was nowhere in nature for the rumble of thunder to come from, and Wei Wuxian, who had turned away, turned back to the outside with a confused expression: how had it suddenly become dark? Where had the thunderclouds come from? Why was there lightning –

There was a flash so bright it blinded the eyes, searing purple, and suddenly Jiang Cheng was there, standing in front of Wei Wuxian.

“Don’t threaten me, I hate that,” he said.

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “Jiang Cheng? Where..?”

“I can’t stay long, too much to do,” Jiang Cheng said, scowling; it was a familiar look on his face. “Tell Jin Ling he either has to find someone else to do the damn job or consolidate Lotus Pier and Lanling, and not to pray for help too often or I’ll break his legs. And anyway, for you –”

With Wei Wuxian still speechless, he didn’t have any time to react before Jiang Cheng moved, slapping his hand right up against Wei Wuxian’s dantian: the weak golden core inside, a gift from Mo Xuanyu, suddenly glowed bright, strengthening back to what Wei Wuxian had had before he had given it away.

“I can’t give you more than what you had; cultivation is fighting the fates, and every man’s path is his own,” Jiang Cheng said, looking irritated by this inescapable law of the heavens. “But at minimum I can restore your potential – not that I think you’ll stop with the demonic cultivation, because you’re you, but at least a stronger golden core will help mitigate the effects, and make your lifespan more similar to Hanguang-jun’s. Who is not getting any sort of gift from me,” he added with a glare, “is that understood?”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows had arched up and he stared wordlessly at Jiang Cheng, who immediately became so uncomfortable with it that he shifted from one leg to the other and then spat, “Fine, one gift, whatever. Think about it carefully. Anyway, I’m going now. Don’t bother me too often – but don’t not bother me at all, you hear me? Or I’ll find a way to break your legs.”

Another flash of lightning, and he was gone.

Wei Wuxian put his hand to his dantian, which still glowed warm, the strength starting to spread through his veins to his entire body – he’d forgotten how nice the feeling was, having never expected to feel it again.

“Lan Zhan,” he said blankly. “Did – Jiang Cheng – he just –”

Lan Wangji exhaled; in anyone else, it might have been called an aggravated sigh.

“We should,” he said, “probably set up a shrine.”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #jin ling #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years ago

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Chapter 48 & Chapter 49

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

The Imperial guard who approaches him is very careful, almost reverent in his posture.

Lan XiChen is resting. He has been ordered to do so by uncle, who has done precious little resting himself, only stepping away from the guqin when his fingers are on the verge of bleeding.

Since Wei WuXian had been moved from the grand hall, not a moment has gone by without the sounds of Cleansing weaving throughout the Emperor’s chambers, a continuous exertion of spiritual energy that no single Lan cultivator could have maintained. But there are three of them, and although their skills and abilities differ, the Emperor is no longer in danger, his chest rising and falling smoothly with unlabored breaths of deep sleep.

WangJi has only abandoned the guqin when ordered to do so, and only so he may move closer to bed, settling down on the floor by Wei WuXian’s shoulder. The position does not look restful; WangJi’s tense figure is stiff with coiled worry, his eyes locked on the Emperor’s face, as if by sight alone he can infuse more color into his cheeks. XiChen can hear the soft murmur of Lady Jiang’s voice, and WangJi’s equally as soft response. Some steps away, the Rogue Prince stands motionless, his vigil silent.

“Young Master Lan,” the Imperial guard whispers, “forgive me for interrupting. General Nie is outside, requesting to speak with you. What would you like me to tell him?”

XiChen needs a few moments to formulate an appropriate response.

The Imperial guard waits patiently, deferentially even, comically folded in half so he can hear XiChen’s response. XiChen finds this entire situation beyond absurd.

The Young Master of the Lan Sect should not be asked if he wishes to speak to the General of the Emperor’s army. The Young Master of the Lan Sect can be issued an order by the lowest court official, and would have no choice but to obey. Yet, he thinks, if he were to tell this Imperial guard that the General must wait, or come back at a later time, the guard would jump to follow instruction.

The rest are no better. For hours now, they have tiptoed carefully around all three of the Lan Sect members, as if charged with protecting royalty. Most of them even hesitate to look at uncle directly, their eyes never quite managing to rise past uncle’s knees. Uncle’s performance during the Gifting Ceremony had been impressive to be sure, but the current level of veneration for a man who had been dismissed and spurned only a day ago, seems far beyond excessive.

XiChen had not spoken to Nie MingJue since issuing the misguided invitation. This is neither the time nor the occasion for the conversation they must have, not to mention that XiChen feels ill-prepared to have it even under the best of circumstances. But now, in the midst of their attempts to keep the Emperor breathing, in the midst of his brother’s obvious anguish, his uncle’s exhaustion, his own fatigue, XiChen cannot face the prospect of further heartache.

Still, he cannot have the guards turn the General of the Emperor’s army away, regardless of their willingness to do just that. He rises slowly, and the guard steps back, as if XiChen would scold him for standing too close.

Nie MingJue waits just outside the entrance, facing two dozen Imperial guards. He is wearing full armor, his hand resting on the pommel of his saber.

The General of the Emperor’s army looks as if he may need to fight his way past the Imperial guards in order to enter the Emperor’s chambers. This implies a great deal about the powers currently in charge, and most of these implications are alarming in nature.

Is the Emperor still the Emperor?

XiChen does not know. No one else has come or gone. No inquiries have reached them, no orders, no edicts. There could be a bloody war outside the Jade Sword Palace, and none of those in the Imperial chambers would ever notice it being waged.

All these are legitimate concerns and worries, but XiChen cannot find the words to voice them. In the Nie battle armor, both chest and shoulder plate depicting the sneering Beast’s Head sigil, Nie MingJue is terrifying to behold. But the moment his eyes land on XiChen, his posture shifts, his face softens, the change clearly visible and devastating to see.

The hand on his forearm is careful as it draws him some distance away from the guards.

“XiChen,” MingJue says, “Are you well?”

It is a struggle to find his voice, but XiChen manages, “The Emperor is recovering well. It may be some hours yet until he wakes, and it will take many days for his strength to return. Uncle says he had fought back, attempting to expel the resentful energy on his own. This had saved his life, but it has also significantly depleted his--“

The hand tightens on his forearm, cutting his words in half.

“XiChen,” MingJue says again, “I asked if you are well.”

It is a basic rule of politeness, that the question once blatantly ignored, should not be repeated. But such rules have no effect on Nie MingJue.

XiChen is tired of suppressing the constant and unrelenting waves of anxiety. The calluses he had built up over the years cannot hold up to the punishing pace they had set to keep the Emperor breathing. His fingers hurt. His shoulders hurt. He has suffered greater discomforts in the past, and borne them with dignity. But now, he feels very small, and very tired, and he wishes that he could say these things to Nie MingJue, perhaps the only person who would not think less of him for hearing them.

He exhales, a shuddering breath that feels much too revealing, “I am well. I am only tired. Why are you here? Is the Emperor still in danger?”

Nie MingJue glances back at the Imperial guards and pulls XiChen a little further away, out of their hearing range.

“The Jiang Sect has taken charge of the Imperial guards,” he says, “Which was to be expected. The Jiang and the Nie have always stood together as brothers-in-arms in the defense of the Emperor. But there are... tensions. Multiple sects are calling for a war with the Wen. The High Councilor appears to be in agreement. Perhaps he sees such an action as a logical response to the attack on the Emperor. Or perhaps, he is resentful of the fact that HuaiSang is in possession of an edict naming him the guardian of the successor.”

The carefully concealed anxiety blooms in XiChen’s chest, leaving him breathless.

“Can the Council declare war? Without the Emperor’s approval?”

“No,” MingJue says, “but they may try and do so regardless. If I refuse to follow their orders, this will result in different war, right here in the palace halls. I do not want to lead the army against the Imperial guards. This must be prevented.”

“How-- what do you need? What can I do?”

“I need the Emperor,” Nie MingJue says bluntly, “The sects need to hear that the Emperor is well, and recovering quickly. They need to hear this from the Lan Sect Leader.”

They are far enough away where XiChen can no longer hear the sounds of the guqin, but he knows that the Cleansing has gone on uninterrupted.

He shakes his head, “My uncle-- the Emperor is not yet well enough to be left to the care of WangJi and myself. I will come in his place.”

Chapter 49

Nie HuaiSang has never sat on the dais alone.

He has wielded almost as much power as the Emperor himself. He has frequently sprawled on the Emperor’s seat, worn the Emperor’s clothes, used the Emperor’s seal. But he has never before felt so utterly alone.

His personal guard, the members of the Nie Sect charged with his protection, are lined up behind him. The High Councilor is to his left; to the right, the empty space where A-Jue should be is a constant source of anxiety and irritation. In front of him, the receiving hall is crowded with every Sect and clan leader in the Immortal Mountain City, only some of them trustworthy, and nearly all of them unpredictable. The seat underneath him feels akin to a death trap, waiting for an opportune moment to snap closed on his tender backside.

His hand tightens around the fan, then relaxes. Tightens, then relaxes.

With Wei Ying by his side, he could hide behind the fan. He could do anything, say anything, act in any way he pleases. With Wei Ying by his side, the obvious clusters of hostility in the hall would be an insignificant source of amusement.

His eyes meet Jiang Cheng’s, only for a moment, neither acknowledging the contact. In the back of the hall, three members of the Wen Sect stand under guard. Wen Qing is cool and collected, her head held high, her robes bright and striking next to the muted Nie greens. HuaiSang can see A-Lin making a conscious effort to emulate his sister, but being a nervous creature by nature, he is only managing to appear more rigid. Granny Wen is in possession of composure that HuaiSang very much envies at this moment. Their lives are on the line as much as his own, but one would never know it by looking at Granny Wen’s face.

The rest of the Wen Sect is in the Jade Sword Palace courtyard, under guard, and awaiting their fate. HuaiSang has managed to stall the calls for an immediate attack on QiShan, but only by insisting that the Emperor’s condition must take precedence. Still, with each moment that passes with A-Jue conspicuously absent, the tension in the hall seems to rise, the hostility and the resentment thickening.

HuaiSang would very much like to keep all of the secrets that must be kept, and not start a war today. He has an unpleasant feeling that he may not get to have both.

It is difficult to conceal a sigh of relief when A-Jue finally enters the hall. The Lan Sect Leader is absent, but Lan XiChen’s placid countenance is almost an improvement. It is no secret that Lan QiRen is generally disliked for his personality alone, the man’s icy facade only serving to agitate the existing resentment. Lan XiChen, infinitely serene in the face of animosity, patient and humble to a fault, may be precisely the type of calm presence that can soothe the waves of unrest in the hall.

There may be some question as to whose authority is higher in this instance. The Royal Companion, often perceived as the Imperial Consort, technically does not outrank the High Councilor. His status as the guardian of the successor only gives him power once the Emperor is no longer among the living. Still, Lan XiChen does not hesitate. His first bow and greeting is given to Nie HuaiSang. He turns to the High Councilor next, a perfect mirror image, the bow no less deep, the greeting no less courteous. But the hierarchy the Lan Sect recognizes has been made clear. This acknowledgment is significant, considering the current position of the Lan Sect, both as the saviors of the Emperor, and their future connection to the throne through marriage.

Nie HuaiSang greets Lan XiChen politely in turn, feeling as if his seat is now a little less likely to collapse under his anxious bottom.

“Young Master Lan,” the High Councilor says, “the Council requires an update on the Emperor’s condition.”

“The Emperor is recovering well. His life is no longer in danger.”

The hall had hushed to hear the response, but now a low murmur rises, the word traveling among those placed furthest away from the dais.

“Are you quite certain?”

“I am certain,” Lan XiChen says, his voice unwavering, “The Emperor should wake soon, although he may still require days of rest to regain the spiritual energy he had lost.”

All of HuaiSang’s bones seem to turn liquid at once. It is by force of will alone that he manages to stay upright, instead of slumping against the throne in relief.

“The Royal Companion had summoned the Lan Sect Leader,” Jin GuangShan says carefully, only two steps below the High Councilor, “Is there a reason that the Young Master is here in his place?”

Lan XiChen smiles, but the smile does not reach his eyes, “The Jin Sect Leader is very observant. The Lan Sect is honored to be an object of the Jin Sect Leader’s concern. My uncle believes that the Emperor’s recovery must take precedence over other matters. Please forgive my humble presence in his place.”

Nie HuaiSang feels that he has been quite unjust to the Young Master of the Lan Sect in the past. He also believes that he could become quite fond of the man in the future. It has been somewhat... difficult to reconcile himself to A-Jue’s single-minded focus on Lan XiChen, a person who is still essentially a stranger. It is a common failing of siblings, to find their future in-laws unworthy despite all evidence to the contrary. But Nie HuaiSang is willing to admit his error.

“The Emperor’s health, of course, takes precedence,” the High Councilor says, “We are grateful to the Lan Sect for their assistance and dedication. As the Emperor is recovering swiftly, I believe all decisions may wait for his judgment.”

A louder murmur rises at his words, and Nie HuaiSang braces for the inevitable.

Which comes, to no one’s surprise, in the form of Sect Leader Yao.

“Are we to simply allow the Wen Sect to go free? After such a betrayal? The Emperor himself had stated that their lives are to be forfeit if Wen RuoHan ever dared orchestrate another attack. Do you mean to act against the Emperor’s orders?”

This, of course, is all Wei Ying’s fault. Nie HuaiSang had offered to have Sect Leader Yao killed years ago. The man would have been infinitely more useful as dust and bones, than he is now, with his flapping mouth always sowing discord.

“The Wen Sect will be placed in the dungeons to await the Emperor’s judgment,” Nie HuaiSang says coldly, “Only the Emperor may decide the means of executing traitors. These decisions have never been within the purview of the powers given to the Council.”

“The Royal Companion is correct,” Jin GuangShan’s voice raises the hair on the back of HuaiSang’s neck, “and yet, my own disciple was jailed by no other than the former First Prince’s servant. The Jin Sect has yet to receive an explanation for this action.”

“Your disciple was jailed by my orders,” A-Jue says dismissively, “and will wait for the Emperor’s judgment along with the Wen Sect.”

HuaiSang winces. He loves his brother, but diplomacy is not Nie MingJue’s strong suit.

“Sect Leader Jin,” HuaiSang says meekly, “Your disciple had displayed suspicious behavior in the wake of the attack on the Emperor. Perhaps he is innocent, but surely, you do not begrudge us an overabundance of caution. I can guarantee that your disciple will come to no harm until the Emperor himself has had a chance to address the matter.”

He knows that there is nothing that influences the High Councilor quite as much as a reasonable argument delivered in a reasonable tone. HuaiSang has always wondered why such a man would choose a life companion that is rarely ever capable of calm and reasonable argument. As he expected, Jiang FengMian is nodding even before HuaiSang has finished speaking, making it clear that between the two of them, Jin GuangShan will find his complaint neatly swept to the side. Familiar with the High Councilor’s tendencies to fold in the face of mildest possible pressure, Jin GuangShan appears unhappy, but offers no further complaints.

“Young Master Lan,” the High Councilor says, “the Council requests to be informed of any changes in the Emperor’s condition. Until then, I believe we have no further need of you.”

Lan XiChen bows, and is escorted out of the hall. HuaiSang fights a small stab of resentment that A-Jue escorts the man personally, when a dozen Nie Sect members would have done just as well. Maybe he no longer needs A-Jue’s support, now that the Emperor’s seat is no longer in peril, but he would have liked to have that support nonetheless.

“I believe that we may rest easily tonight, and meet again on the morrow,” Jiang FengMian says, “Is the Royal Companion in agreement?”

The Royal Companion is very much in agreement. He may have promised Jin GuangShan that his disciple will come to no harm, but HuaiSang has no qualms about breaking his word.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #two in one #both are short chapters so i figured what the hell #probably wangji's pov in the next chapter #then creepy story time by xue yang in the one after #i would like to go back to being three chapters ahead of the published #but it's looking like two will do for now #ily chickens

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ichayalovesyou · 4 years ago

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Why Does God Need A Starship? (Live Reaction):

I always thought Sybok was cool and interesting and NOW I’m sure! You know it’s times like these that I’m grateful I kinda came back into the Star Trek fandom on my own, because I don’t have to deal with Opinions of older/louder Trekkies. This one kinda has a lukewarm reputation but I’m getting the vibe that I’ll genuinely enjoy it.

Yet again Bones is serving up some LOOKS damn! Look at these elder gays! Spock has rocket boots, amazing. “Because it’s there” and then falling off the goddamn mountain is such a James Tiberius Kirk thing to do 😂 “HI BONES!” These guys omfg. OH MY GOD SO WE DO SEE CAITIANS OUTSIDE THE CARTOONS?? Hell yeah! Also pole dancing to no music, is... weird. Lmao. Also okay I’m sorry Sybok is cool! Sybok is cool and interesting and I really like him! (Not morally obviously dude is shady as all fuck, but a cool dude nontheless!) Always fascinated by Cult Leader type villains, especially when they point out valid criticisms about the society from which they came (important distinction is that the CAUSE is not vilified, but the person and their means, something M****l has largely forgotten)

Awww I may ship Hikura, but Uhura & Scotty are also cute as hell!! Awwwwwww!!!! Old married couples can be so freaking cute. Chekov & Sulu are LOST ohhhh my god this is hilarious, these two idiots. Also can we talk about how Koenig’s eyebrows are slowly gaining sentience and Takei aged like fine wine? Lol. THE HOLY TRINITY OF ELDER GAYS ARE CAMPINGGGG! I’m- oh my god they’re so cute. “Marshmelon” this is cute as hell oh my god. They’re indulging and messing with Spock at the same time I’m dead! They’re singing ohh my god this gonna give me cavities with how sweet it is!!!

This Klingon dude is frickin ROCKING the eyeliner! Bruhhhh was the frickin spotlight necessary! Leave the gays alone SHHHH they’re SLEEPING!! Lmao. Yo I’ll be real this movie starts incredibly slowly but I seriously do not mind, it’s relaxing to not have to worry about missing important details if you look away for a second, it’s nice. WAIT? Does Jim’s shirt say GOT MILK?!!? Oh no, it says go climb a rock, oh thank god [“fatty milkers” flashbacks]

Seriously McCoy is just radiating so much old southern lady/gay energy in this movie and I love it so freaking much “if you ask me (and you haven’t) this is a horrible idea” he sounds like my North Carolina living Meemaw. Wow you can see Spock low-key taking psychic damage from seeing Sybok 😲 V’tosh Ka’tur of the highest order huh? Still disturbing that his government literally cast him out, that’s a red flag 😬. What happened with Sybok is probably a lot of why Spock was pressured to be as Vulcan as he was, I’m sure Sybok was a massive scandal/shame for Sarek, and knowing him, he’d end up making that his kids’ problem not his 🙄

Oh neat!! Chekov is in the in the captain’s chair. Oh this is the song they replaced Nichols’s voice for 😤 but also GIRL THAT WAS BADASS AND THAT SONG WAS A BOP! Quick question, wow these “alien” horses are somehow even worse than the unicorn dog (also it’s a desert planet, wouldn’t it be better to have, like, alien camels or something?) This dude’s Klingon is freakin impeccable btw! He’s really got the vibe down! Jim did you forget how fuckin bananas strong Vulcans are??? Sybok went like 😡☹️ when Spock pointed that laser rifle at him 😂😂😂 again even tho I know Scotty and Uhura are married but it’s scenes like getting held hostage right there where they radiate such POWER COUPLE energy GAWD! 🤩

Stay out of this Bones we’re having a lover’s quarrel! Jim is taking fucking psychic damage from this entire conversation lol. Okayyyy whatever Sybok is doing is definitely some kind of mind control type thing, that shit is creepy af no thank youuuuuu (spores anyone?). Oh my god Spock & Jim are so married lmao, that “I’m sorry” Vulcan kiss in the brig man Aw. (Oh man Magic’s of mega-tsu got devani mixed by that comment lame!) SCOTTYYYYYY!! YAS!

Yay rocket boot glomp! Lmfao! Sybok needs to brush up on his earth history Columbus did NOT figure out the world is round 🙄 Ah Scotty being like “listen, you’re not okay rn so I’m not really down for whatever you think you wanna do right now it can wait until you’re right in the head again” and they could’ve not done that and it would’ve been creepy (especially by today’s standards) but they didn’t! And that was awesome!

Bones being skeptical and has every right to be! He’s faced down would be gods and would-be messiahs before! Also I’ve seen people judge Bones for being the first to cave but Sybok totally did that shit to him without consent! He didn’t go back on his beliefs, Sybok forced him to! BONES PROTECTION SQUAD IS HERE AND ITS ME! Oh Bones, man, poor babeyyyy (fuck Sybok!) 😭😭😭 OH MY GOD BONESSSSSS Sybok leave him alone! Goddamnit! Leave him alone!

I think Jim can see Spock’s Sybok induced vision cuz they’re ✨Bonded✨ (it didn’t seem like they could see Bones’s, other than what Bones was doing). JIM KNOWS SO MUCH BETTER! ITS HOW HE BEAT THE SPORES ITS HIS CORE! I UNDERSTAND AND LOVE HIM FOR IT!!! Spock 😍😍😍 he’s like, you’re bullshit happiness pill doesn’t work on me cuz I am whole for the first time in my life, and I love my husband, and I already learned my lesson decades ago 💚🖖🏻💚 (who knew how important the character development from This Side of Paradise AND Return To Tommorow would be??? Hell yeah!)

I love Scotty so much 🥰 hardcore badass Hufflepuff from beginning to end! Also I hope Sybok appears in SNW that could be really really interesting if they do it right! ITS GOD (derogatory) REVERE HIM! Oh here comes that legendary question!! “What dies God need with a starship?” Red flag don’t call Jim a creature! Oh shit god has laxer eyes oh no lmao! Bones snaps out of whatever Sybok did to him when “God” hurts his friends and we LOVE HIM FOR ITTTT! Awww Spock & Sybok and be saaaaad, oh shit! Into the lightning to fight a mirror of yourself like Lazarus in that one episode!

OH SHIT THE KLINGONS ARE HERE! Oh damn Spock just swore a cuss the right way, at a Klingon General no less! General dude just went “caotain tell Kirk you are sorry!” LMAO! NOT IN FRONT OF THE KLINGONS 😂😂😂😍 KISS DAMNIT!! God this whole after scene is so good, maybe the god is the friends we made along the way. “I lost a brother once” you also lost SAM dummy, I know you were just telling Spock you love him but still. SHUT UP SPOCK IS PLAYING ROW ROW ROW YOUR BOAT ON HIS LYRE??

Okay, seriously, I unironically love this movie, it might be my favorite out of the ones I’ve seen so far actually. TMP felt like the movies getting their sea legs, but it was slow and messy, it wasn’t as thought provoking as it wanted to be (aside from Spock’s wonderful arc in that film). WoK & TSFS are amazing for drama and angst and Spirk content, but they weren’t really asking the big questions Star Trek is wonderful for. Then The Voyage Home is just plain silly and fun and wholesome. But this, this movie had depth! The whole premise is “what is god and is there is one?” I LOVE that as someone who has a very complicated relationship with spirituality. I also already loved the TOS episodes This Side of Paradise, Return To Tomorrow, The Omega Glory and The Way To Eden, and this movie had the best of those concepts! Sybok was such a fascinating antagonist/anti-hero and I hope we get to see him explored more on screen one day, even if it’s just through Discovery/SNW flashbacks. It may have started off slow and it’s not without its flaws but this felt like the Star Trekkiest TOS Star Trek movie so far!

#star trek #star trek v: the final frontier #the final frontier #why does god need a starship #star trek tos #tos liveblog #liveblogging #Sybok

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imaginaryelle · 4 years ago

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Fic: Near Misses and Almost Kisses

AKA Five (plus one) Times Wangxian Could Have Kissed and Totally Fucking Did: A Retelling of CQL Through Missing Scene Kisses

Many thanks to @theflowergirl for initially prompting this fic ages and ages ago (pre-covid. wow.) and also to @morphia-writes for cheerleading and beta work while I struggled to get back into writing this past month. <3!

(this is ~6k and also available as a chaptered fic on AO3. Link coming soon)

[One: Gusu]

Lan Wangji was not looking for company on this journey, and he especially wasn’t looking for the loud, insistent and impossible-to-ignore company of Wei Ying of Yunmeng-Jiang. There have been enough rules broken, enough disruptions to the orderly patterns of his days and thoughts. Finding the other Yin Iron shards is a time-sensitive task with no room for flighty delays. He had, in fact, been looking forward to having some time to clear his head. Time to meditate, and reflect, and maybe dull down the memory of Wei Ying’s earnest, sincere promise, burning brighter in his mind than their Qixi lantern ever glowed against the sky. Time to wrap and re-wrap his sleeves, and maybe forget the winding, binding pull of his forehead ribbon around his wrist and the brush of Wei Ying’s knuckles against the back of his hand.

But instead Wei Ying is here. Talking. Loudly. Incessantly. Chattering about Yunmeng, and all the ways to eat lotus, and the best techniques to use when fighting water ghouls or a possessed alligator. Standing close enough that their elbows keep brushing. Jostling his shoulder and grinning at him like they’re sharing a joke and calling him Lan Zhan, like no one else in the world.

It should be annoying. Enraging that someone would so simply and carelessly step over so many boundaries.

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes it’s … not.

Lan Wangji does not tell him to leave. Not at the pier, not on the boat through the long, foggy afternoon. Not in the dwindling twilight as they make camp: clear the ground, set a ward, nurse a small cookfire. Not as they eat a simple meal of sesame qi zi rolls and tea and the loquats Wei Ying brought with him.

And after, still Wei Ying stays close, never more than three steps away, and sits even closer. Close enough that their knees just don’t quite touch. But instead of introducing some game, or talking more, he sighs, and closes his eyes, and … meditates.

One day, perhaps, he will run out of ways to surprise Lan Wangji. For now, they pass a quiet, peaceful stretch of time without any more pressing interruptions than the call of a hawk overhead and the rustle of small creatures moving through the underbrush.

Even after that, when Wei Ying starts moving again—rustling cloth and soft footsteps—he doesn’t speak. It’s unexpectedly thoughtful, as if he’s doing his best not to disturb Lan Wangji’s own meditations. Then come the familiar sounds and smells of ink grinding against stone, and the soft crinkle of paper. After a while Wei Ying starts humming, low and under his breath.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes to find Wei Ying backlit by the smoldering fire, a brush in his hand and his focus entirely on the strip of paper before him. To his left is a line of paper strips, fresh ink shining on each one. Talismans, Lan Wangji realizes. Each imbued with a touch of power. It’s not an invocation he’s seen before. He tries to get a better look, and Wei Ying looks up at him.

“Want to see?” he asks, grinning. Lan Wangji draws back, but Wei Ying picks up the driest of the talismans and holds it out to him for examination.

Scattered bursts of power, shaped and directed outward from the caster. A touch of fire. Enough intent and energy to damage a ward, distract a spirit, or leave minor burns on an enemy. He’s trying to make out the shape itself when Wei Ying draws the paper back and flicks it into the air.

Bright, fiery butterflies ascend into the space above their heads, trailing orange sparks until they wink out like distant stars.

“You can have one, if you like.” Lan Wangji slowly returns his gaze to his companion. “I know your sword work is very good,” Wei Ying is saying, “but everyone can use a bit of surprise on their side, right?”

Lan Wangji’s fingers itch. He’s never seen anyone use talismans the way Wei Ying does, and he does want to study this one further. And yet. “There’s no need,” he says.

“Even so.” Wei Ying smiles. He sorts through his papers, picking out two. “These are for you.” He holds them out for a moment, then sighs when Lan Wangji makes no move to take them. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “Are you one of those cultivators who thinks talismans are just toys for those with low spiritual power? Little party tricks for those not able to work a seal directly?”

Denial sticks in his throat. He has heard others voice such thoughts, and “toys” certainly describes how Wei Ying uses them, but it’s not a fair judgment to speak aloud.

“Why butterflies?” he asks instead.

“I like butterflies.” Wei Ying’s expression twists, perhaps wistful. “We have lots of them in Yunmeng.” This does not seem to require a response, but Lan Wangji must be missing something, because Wei Ying sighs and pulls the talismans back. “Do you not trust my gifts anymore? How about a trade then? I give you some talismans, and you give me something you think is a fair trade. Better?”

He looks—annoyed, but somehow Lan Wangji still feels like he’s being teased in some way; there’s some joke he’s not getting as Wei Ying sits just a handspan away, limned in firelight and offering him butterflies with an expectant expression and Lan Wangji wants—

It’s not a good kiss, Lan Wangji is certain, and it’s not really anything like the impulsive thoughts that have littered his waking hours over the last few days, but the touch of Wei Ying’s lips still steals the breath from his lungs and narrows his focus in a way meditation and sword forms never have. Wei Ying is softness and warmth and, for a moment, the orbital center of the Heavens, as far as Lan Wangji is concerned.

He leans back, his heart beating as fast as dragonfly wings. Wei Ying stares at him with wide, dark eyes.

“That was …” his hand rises, and he touches his fingertips to his lips. “That was my first kiss.”

Lan Wangji’s pulse thrums faster at that, if that’s possible. He’d been certain, certain that someone as brash and forward as Wei Ying would have been kissed before now.

“Mine also,” he admits, and the surprise in Wei Ying’s eyes would be comical if Lan Wangji had not so obviously spent his entire life distanced from his peers, if he had not so clearly displayed his disinterest in most companionship. He thinks Wei Ying must be making fun of him again, that perhaps he lied to elicit this confession and—

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying protests, “My talismans aren’t worth your first kiss!”

Lan Wangji had forgotten about the talismans. They are not currently carrying any prominence in his thoughts.

“It was Wei Ying’s first kiss also,” he returns, daring him to deny it and reveal the ruse.

But he doesn’t. He just sort of stares for long enough that Lan Wangji looks away, shame rising in his throat. He had hoped—it doesn’t matter what he hoped. The kiss was obviously a misstep, and now he has achieved the dual consequences of pushing Wei Ying away while revealing his own weakness. Perhaps he should leave in the morning, before Wei Ying wakes. Perhaps by the time they see each other again this will be forgotten, or at least—at least—

“A second kiss,” Wei Ying says, sudden and much louder than necessary. Lan Wangji looks back at him and waits, hardening himself against further disappointments.

“Two first kisses is an even trade, right?” Wei Ying says. He’s wearing the same sort of eager, coaxing expression he’d had in the library, trying to explain once again how he couldn’t possibly be at fault for climbing over Cloud Recesses’ walls after curfew and drinking alcohol in front of the Wall of Discipline. “Your first kiss for my first kiss. But a second kiss could be… hm.” he frowns. “No this is...” He turns away, rummaging through his papers for a moment and then holds them out triumphantly—six of them. “Six talismans,” Wei Ying says, grinning, “for your second kiss?”

Lan Wangji looks from the talismans to his face, to his lips. Even with shame burning in his center it had felt—it had been—He should have more self-restraint than this. He has more self-restraint than this, with everyone, it seems, except Wei Ying.

He nods, hardly daring to breathe, and Wei Ying scoots closer on his knees. This time, Lan Wangji stays where he is and Wei Ying touches his face with careful fingertips, his expression hardly visible with his body blocking most of the firelight, and then he bends slightly and their lips touch. It is a slow, gentle kiss, more mixing of breath than lips, and the longer it goes on the more Lan Wangji’s fear that this will turn into a new opportunity at provocation melts away. He lifts his own hand to Wei Ying’s jaw and opens his mouth, and lets himself concentrate on only this: warm breath, and softly brushing lips, and the rush of Wei Ying’s heartbeat at his fingertips.

[Two: Qinghe]

By the time they make it to Qinghe, Lan Wangji has retreated so far into stoic silence that Wei Wuxian is a little surprised he’s not leaving a trail of frost wherever he goes. He looks cold enough for it. Frosty and aloof and unapproachable as a distant mountain, with glares so icy they could burn. Nothing like as soft and warm and close as he’d been when it was just the two of them traveling together, before Nie Huaisang joined them in Tanzhou, before Jiang Cheng found them on Dafan Mountain, before they met Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen and volunteered to haul Xue Yang all the way to the Unclean Realm for judgement. He’s barely spoken to anyone other than Nie Mingjue, the last few days. Barely looked at Wei Wuxian at all since they left the Chang Clan’s former residence.

There had been a moment, watching Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen walk away together, when Wei Wuxian’s old memories of his mother had slipped from his thoughts to make way for new memories—the brush of Lan Wangji’s fingers against his cheek, the touch of their lips meeting in the night and the thud of his own pulse threatening to overwhelm him.

He doesn’t know for sure that Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen have that, but sometimes he remembers those two figures walking together, one in black and one in white, and want is so heavy in his lungs it turns bitter in his mouth.

But that’s when the silence started, he thinks. Lan Wangji hadn’t said a single word to him all that long afternoon.

The point is, he’s pretty much resigned himself to never getting to kiss Lan Wangji again, because Lan Wangji has clearly remembered that he dislikes Wei Wuxian and also everyone else Wei Wuxian associates with and the concept of fun, in general. But Wei Wuxian is not giving up. He said they were going to be friends and so they’re going to be friends; Lan Wangji is too interesting a person to not be friends with, at a minimum. He’ll just have to work harder at it, and bide his time, and he’s sure Lan Wangji will come around. They could be the best of friends, and then maybe Wei Wuxian could bring it up—hey, remember that time you kissed me?—and if it goes poorly he can laugh it off. What a funny thing, why don’t more people know that you’re funny, Lan Zhan?

It’s a plan, anyway. A plan that gets entirely shattered to pieces when Lan Wangji steps out of his guest quarters, and looks at Wei Wuxian lying on the roof and babbling some nonsense about relative roof tile comfort, and jumps up to join him.

For a single breathless moment Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji might draw his sword. That he’s pushed too far, this is it, all potential positive feelings towards himself have been erased in Lan Wangji’s mind, but no. No, instead Lan Wangji just sits next to him, inside the stretched curve of Wei Wuxian’s frame. Close enough to touch.

Everyone else is asleep. Wei Wuxian knows it, because it’s the entire reason he’s outside, drinking alone, instead of inside with jovial company and more wine.

Well. Not so alone, now.

Lan Wangji glows in the starlight, pale and luminous as anything gracing the heavens.

You look like the moon, Wei Wuxian wants to say, come drink with me, follow me, dance with me, but he doesn’t say that. That would be—too much, he thinks.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says back. The ice is melting from Lan Wangji’s posture, slipping away until the space between them feels warm. Charged like lightning.

“I will return to Gusu,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian nods, his hand gripped tight around his bottle of wine.

“To help your brother,” he confirms. He raises the bottle and drinks, and wonders if he’s imagining the way Lan Wangji’s gaze follows the motion to linger on his mouth. He swallows. “I suppose we all have to go home eventually.”

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji is still watching him. He’s tempted to sit up. To reach out and tug on those pale robes and draw Lan Wangji even closer.

He sets the wine aside. Meets Lan Wangji’s gaze.

“Do you want—” he can’t finish the question. Lan Wangji moves fluidly, even now, far from any battle they might fight. He is so close now that Wei Wuxian can see nothing else but his eyes, his face, his mouth. His fingers curl around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, and Wei Wuxian leans into him, into the kiss that he’d thought he wouldn’t be getting.

This one is different. Deeper. Longer. Lan Wangji’s grip on his wrist is tight, his fingers on Wei Wuxian’s jaw firm and steady. Something golden and liquid is happening to Wei Wuxian’s spine as Lan Wangji’s tongue slips past his lips and it doesn’t have anything to do with the wine. He can’t stop the sound he makes, too genuine to be laughed away.

Lan Wangji draws back, draws his tongue back and his lips back and his hands back, and Wei Wuxian only barely catches himself from slipping flat onto the roof tiles.

“Lan Zhan …” Words slip away from him. All he wants is more touch. His body feels molten, edges disappearing from his awareness.

Lan Wangji’s lips are pink. He’s flushing to his ears. His hands are in his lap, curled into tight fists.

There’s something Wei Wuxian’s forgetting. Oh.

“I don’t have anything to give you this time,” he says. Lan Wangji won’t want whatever remains of his wine and this—for this kiss—he doesn’t know what he could possibly give in exchange.

Lan Wangji blinks, a hint of confusion in his face. Then it clears.

“Promise you will not be reckless,” he says, and Wei Wuxian huffs an incredulous laugh.

“I’m not reckless,” he protests, sitting up properly as if that will better support his point. “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji simply looks at him. He’s looking less kissed with every second, which is a true shame.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian allows. “I promise to not be reckless. But.” He leans across the small distance between them and presses another kiss to Lan Wangji’s lips. It’s longer than he means it to be, and when he pulls back his voice sounds strained and breathless in his own ears.

“You promise me too,” he says, half-whispered. “You don’t be reckless either.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agrees, and there’s an actual smile drawn at the corners of his eyes. “I promise.”

[Three: Dusk Creek Mountain]

Lan Wangji has faced endurance trials before. Lan cultivation training is full to brimming with them, and where before he knew that such trials would bring him strength, and patience, and clarity in adverse circumstances, he is now deeply, terribly grateful for them.

If he must endure the uncertainty that clouds his brother’s fate, the danger that still clings to his uncle and his entire clan and sect, the open derision of the Wens and the pall of pain and death that haunts every step he takes on a broken leg—at least he has trained to do so, every day of his life. At least he has years of practice to keep him standing straight and tall and unbending, here in this place that smells of sulphur and smoke and stinks of power so tainted and warped that his skin crawls with it.

He has little such practice in enduring Wei Ying’s probing inquiries. Enduring his careful glances and fidgeting hands and the worry in his voice as he says Lan Wangji’s name, over and over, half-whispered.

He knows something must show in his face when they take his sword, from the change in that voice. The next morning, when Wei Ying recites the Lan rules instead of the Wen proverbs, he dearly wishes he could slip back in time, weeks ago, and kiss Wei Ying again, and again, as if, if he never left that rooftop in Qinghe, none of this would have happened.

He can’t speak. No matter what Wei Ying asks, he can’t speak. If he opens his mouth everything will spill out at once. Everything—the Yin iron, and his uncle and brother and sect and the fires that consumed hundreds of years of Lan history as he was dragged from his home—he won’t be able to stop it. There might even be tears involved. He’s stretched too thin, likely to break like porcelain with sharp edges to cut the unwary.

Their closeness is noticed. He can’t stop Wen Chao throwing Wei Ying in a dungeon that afternoon. The fears that haunt him until the next morning are not much soothed by the blood on Wei Ying’s robes when he returns, no matter how he smiles and chatters.

It can’t go on. He won’t bear it. Lan Wangji’s rebellions are small, and thus insignificant to Wen Chao, but they are still victories in self-restraint. He does not speak, and so no one will hear the fear and anger in his voice. He does not read the Wen Precepts, and so no one can ever say that he would replace the Lan’s, no matter what other claims the Wen make. He walks unaided, and so there will be no favors left unpaid. Even Wei Ying’s offer of help he pushes away. Better to cut such things off now, than to draw disaster down on him again.

Wei Ying walks by his side regardless. Brings him water. Stays in the terrible cave Wen Chao sealed them in, when escape is well within his reach.

Touches his forehead ribbon, entirely ignorant of its meaning. Tends his wounds.

He can’t keep his silence any longer. Wei Ying is injured, and in pain, and never thinks of himself first. He needs taking care of, too. They are alone. If he breaks now only Wei Ying will see, and Wei Ying will never tell.

“You promised to not be reckless,” Lan Wangji says when the medicine is used up.

“I’m not reckless,” Wei Ying insists, shaking out his overrobe near their tiny fire so it will dry faster. “Lan Zhan,” he pouts, then winces as the brand on his chest pains him again. “When was I reckless?”

“Drawing attention,” Lan Wangji tells him. “Reciting the Lan Precepts. Insulting Wen Chao.” He gestures at Wei Ying’s wound. “Taking an attack meant for another without deflection.”

“That’s not recklessness, that’s righteousness,” Wei Ying asserts. He grins. “I would have thought that Lan Clan would know the difference. And besides, Lan Zhan, you promised me, too, and I saw you step in front of Mianmian. If I was reckless so were you.”

Lan Wangji looks away.

“She’s pretty,” Wei Ying says. There’s a questioning edge to the words that sends cold plummeting through Lan Wangji’s gut. Wei Ying just looks at him, all earnestness in his eyes. “Don’t you think she’s pretty, Lan Zhan?”

He hadn’t noticed, really. She was protective of her sect’s heir, and decently eloquent. Perhaps too free with gossip, as it had been her question that eventually sparked Wei Ying and Jin Zixuan’s fight at Cloud Recesses, months and months ago now.

“She did not deserve to be killed for bait,” he says.

“Or branded either,” Wei Ying is saying. “It’d be a shame, a pretty girl like that with a scar on her face for the rest of her life.”

Lan Wangji stares at him. At the smile he is somehow still wearing. The cold reaches into Lan Wangji’s lungs. His ribs. The fire brings him no warmth.

“It is not better for you to carry the scar instead,” he points out.

“But it’s not on my face,” Wei Ying counters. “Besides, it’s different for men. A man should get a few scars in his life, anyway.”

It is possibly the stupidest thing Lan Wangji has ever heard him say. If this is among the teachings of the Yunmeng-Jiang Sect, he thinks it might go some way towards explaining Jiang Wanyin. But Wei Ying is still talking.

“Even if I do have to carry it forever, it marks that I once protected a girl who will never forget me her whole life! That’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?”

Lan Wangji has no idea what’s supposed to be beautiful about it. He feels a bit like the ground has slipped out from underneath his feet, the foundation he built himself on crumbling on all sides and now a handhold he hadn’t realized he was gripping so tightly is also turning to sand beneath his fingers.

“So you know she’ll never forget you,” he says, the words like acid on his tongue, and Wei Ying startles.

“Why are you mad?” he asks, as if he cannot even guess. Lan Wangji stares at the fire and wishes he were anywhere else. Wishes he had never kissed Wei Ying even once. Even that first time.

“If you don’t mean it,” he says, forcing the words over his teeth as ice rises in his throat, “you shouldn’t flirt with anyone.”

“I—what—”

Wei Ying is silent for a long time. When Lan Wangji looks at him he’s frowning.

“Saving someone isn’t flirting,” he says finally. “And if it’s flirting with you you’re worried about you can just say so. I’ll stop if you say so.”

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji blurts, almost before the sentence is done. And Wei Ying … smiles. A real smile, that reaches his eyes and makes his whole face scrunch up a bit. A smile Lan Wangji hasn’t seen in weeks, that warms him like sunlight.

“Okay,” Wei Ying agrees. “I won’t then.” And then, because he is utterly shameless, he says, “I think my robe is dry now. Are you cold? You look cold, I could cover you with it,” and he leans close to do so without waiting for an answer.

Lan Wangji lets him. He’s too tired to move away, and he doesn’t really want to. He grabs Wei Ying’s wrist, caught between them, and tugs him closer.

“Wei Ying should be warm also,” he says to the questioning look that earns him, and Wei Ying smiles again and sighs. His body is a line of heat against Lan Wangji’s side.

“Alright Lan Zhan,” he says, and his voice is low and soft and close, intimate as a secret.

If he speaks again, Lan Wangji doesn’t hear it. Instead he wakes hours later to find that Wei Ying has returned his forehead ribbon to its rightful place, and explored the wretched pond in the bottom of this cave, and is once again drying himself out.

They are trapped. It will likely be days before they can be rescued. They could die of starvation first, or be killed when the Wens return.

Or they could die fighting.

For luck, Wei Ying says, his voice bright and dancing like butterflies through the telepathy spell. He cups his hand around the back of Lan Wangji’s neck and kisses him, a quick brush of heat, and then he steps away, towards the pond, and there are far more immediate things to think about.

The battle is one of the fiercest of Lan Wangji’s life, but it is clear, afterwards, that Wei Ying sacrificed more than Lan Wangji guessed he would to see the Xuanwu slain. He is clearly unwell, so unwell as to be bad at hiding it, cold and clammy as fever rises through his blood. His breath comes in gasps, his speech slowed and confused.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, through teeth stained with blood, “I didn’t really think I would survive this.”

“You must,” Lan Wangji tells him. He begins passing spiritual energy into Wei Ying’s wrist, everything he can spare. Some he probably can’t. But anything Wei Ying needs, he will give. Spiritual energy. Physical warmth.

A song, though this is far from his idle daydreams of its debut.

They cannot last long like this. Wei Ying slips into dreams from which he can’t be woken, and Lan Wangji draws him close and cradles him carefully as exhaustion settles into his own bones and sinew.

He kisses Wei Ying’s forehead, salt sweat stinging at his dry, cracked lips.

“You must live,” he rasps, his voice all but gone now. “Promise me you’ll live, Wei Ying.”

[Four: Qishan]

Many things are different, after Wen Chao throws Wei Wuxian into the Mass Graves. Most things. The whole course of his life, taking a turn onto a new path. And really, Wei Wuxian is fine with that. He is. He still has Shijie and Jiang Cheng and he’s still friends with Nie Huaisang, even if he has to keep them all a bit more distant than before and even if they can tell something’s wrong, and he has food and a bed with an actual mattress, and even power. Power no one else can claim.

That power makes up for a lot of things, and it and Jiang Cheng’s barely-there smile and continued efforts at rebuilding the Yunmeng-Jiang Sect leave him with no regrets whatsoever, though he was pretty sure he’d had no regrets before, anyway.

Well. Only one regret.

Lan Wangji is avoiding him.

Okay, no, that’s not true. Not anymore, anyway. The weeks-stretching-to-months of the Sunshot Campaign were a particular kind of torture that Wei Wuxian knows he can only blame himself for, but now … now, Lan Wangji wants to help him, and is spending a great deal of time at his guqin. On the other side of the room. Telling Wei Wuxian to “be quiet” and “concentrate” as if that was going to help anything.

His face when he’d come in—Wei Wuxian couldn’t look at him, could hardly stand to sit on the bed with his hands under his thighs and mouth clamped shut in the face of that—that—whatever emotion it was that made Lan Wangji’s eyes so soft, made his lips part and the tension in his shoulders drop so suddenly. And then Shijie had left them alone and—

Well. For a moment there Wei Wuxian expected he was going to be kissed. Lan Wangji had obviously been worried, and visiting often, and ….

But that didn’t happen. No kisses for Wei Wuxian, apparently. Not since the Xuanwu cave, and that barely counted. No kisses since he still had a golden core.

Just guqin music. And meditation.

He tries. He does. He can still benefit from meditation and he knows it, and Lan Wangj’s skill at the guqin is never unpleasant to listen to and so he tries.

For about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. That picture of Lan Wangji’s face keeps painting itself on the back of his eyelids. He can’t sit still any longer. He stands.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “I’m fine.”

Lan Wangji is not convinced. Every movement as he approaches shows it. He is stern and straight-backed and righteous.

“Three more days are needed,” he insists.

“Three days!” Wei Wuxian won’t survive three days of sitting on opposite sides of a room, meditating to music. He won’t. Although …

“Lan Zhan,” he pouts. Entirely for effect, despite the way it makes Lan Wangji go even stiffer and more righteous instead of softening in indulgence the way Shijie does. “Three days is so long. Aren’t you even going to offer me a kiss, asking for so much time?”

Lan Wangji’s entire demeanor changes. The soft eyes and parted lips are back, and his fingers curl in his sleeves. Wei Wuxian risks a step closer.

“One kiss?” he asks. Another step.

“A kiss per day? A kiss per hour?” He grins, close enough now to reach out and touch. Or be touched.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, “Would you kiss me after every song you play? Or every minute? Every—”

Lan Wangji’s hands are on his face, his thumbs pressed against Wei Wuxian’s cheekbones and his fingers cupping Wei Wuxian’s ears. His mouth is hot, his tongue is hot, and in Wei Wuxian’s mouth, and it is taking a lot of effort for Wei Wuxian to stay on his feet. He thinks his knees might have melted, somehow. It would hardly be the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him and he doesn’t really care. Lan Wangji’s lips and tongue and breath are more than enough to fill the moment in its entirety.

When Lan Wangji pulls back, Wei Wuxian is holding onto his wrists. Nearly hanging from them.

“Kiss me again,” he whispers. “Again, Lan Zhan.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji’s eyes are liquid with want and his mouth is soft and pink and so very close. And then he steps back, and lets go of Wei Wuxian’s face, and shakes Wei Wuxian’s grip from his sleeves.

“Meditation first,” he insists.

[Five: Yiling]

Every part of this meeting has been unsettling. Lan Wangji had passed through Yiling for several reasons—rumors of nearby disturbances, it is the largest town near to where his most recent night hunt ended, and the road to Gusu goes through it—but all of these lead to Wei Ying. Even crying children in the street lead to Wei Ying.

The golden swell of hope that was growing under his ribs during their shared meal has long since withdrawn, pulled back and away like the tide by the stark reality of Wei Ying’s circumstances. There will be no convincing him to leave these people now. He has done the impossible, in Wen Qionglin’s resurrection, and he is obviously fond of both Wen Qing and Wen Yuan, but the true issue is that any goals he has for this settlement, its people, or his own life’s path are being smothered by the very real absence of necessary protections, money, food, and medicine.

No tea for guests. No hope that he will see his sister’s wedding. Resentment on all sides, from the restless dead within the mountain and the determined gossips without.

Lan Wangji finds he cannot look at Wen Qionglin for any reasonable length of time. His presence is a prickly burr against the background fog of corruption the Mass Graves generate, at odds with his deferential bows and careful presentation of what poor hospitality this place can offer.

Lan Wangji does not drink the water. He thinks his stomach would not tolerate it, and he shies away from the thought. Water from the hands of a corpse, sourced, undoubtedly, from this land that has been poisoned with resentment for generations. No one should live here. It is only one of many things that should not happen, but is happening anyway.

Wen Qionglin and his sister do not linger long. There is little to say, and even basic formalities cannot be observed without the right supplies. They greet him, formally, with careful bows, and welcome him, and melt back and away, leaving him once again alone with Wei Ying in a cave that smells only slightly better than the one they killed the Xuanwu in.

He will ask once more. He must.

“Wei Ying—”

Further speech is impeded by Wei Ying’s lips on his, the kiss soft and beseeching. Need in the rigid press of Wei Ying’s fingers on Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

“Do me a favor, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs against his mouth, pressing more kisses to his skin like wet ink to paper, and Lan Wangji wants nothing more than to soak him in, draw him up and keep him.

Wei Ying presses their faces together, forehead to forehead, nose to nose.

“Don’t ask again,” he murmurs, and kisses the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth, and steps away.

For a single, wild moment, Lan Wangji considers staying here. Staying with Wei Ying, and these fugitives he has thrown himself in with, and offering any aid he can: the small handful of coins he still carries, the strength of his arms and back, whatever healing his spiritual energy and music can offer.

The impulse slips away quickly. Wei Ying is clearly shepherding him away from the cave, away from the settlement. Beyond the gates. He keeps his movements perfectly contained. Distanced. Separate. Always a respectable space kept between them as they walk, even as he asks—can anyone give me a nice, favorable choice?—the strain of the question clear in his voice.

Even as he says thank you, for a visit Lan Wangji is almost certain has only brought him pain.

It’s Wen Yuan who interrupts them before Lan Wangji can sort out the words he wants. Wen Yuan who asks him to stay.

Wei Ying, who takes the child in his arms and tells him Lan Wangji must leave.

Lan Wangji looks at Wen Yuan’s tiny hand, held securely in Wei Ying’s careful grip. He watches Wei Ying’s face. There is resignation there, but determination, too.

There is nothing left to say.

Another set of hands is also another mouth to feed. He can be of more use to Wei Ying as he is now: separated by distance, but not intent. He is the son of a great sect, the brother of a sect leader, and he has reputation of his own to call on. Somehow, he will find a way to bring Wei Ying back into the world.

Someday, he’ll be back with better news.

[+1: The Jingshi]

Sixteen years.

Wei Wuxian would be tempted to write that number off as an elaborate joke if it weren’t for Jin Ling, so obviously grown up and full of pride. Cloud Recesses doesn’t show the passage of time, either from the time he’s been dead or the damage it suffered before that. He could almost believe, here in this room, that no time has passed at all. Here he is in Cloud Recesses, which looks and sounds and smells just the same as it always has in his memories of that summer before the war. Here he is, convalescing in bed, and there is Lan Wangji on the other side of the room at his guqin, just as they were after it.

There are still differences. He has never seen Lan Wangji this quietly at home in a place. So settled. So comfortable. His hair half-down should make him look younger, but Wei Wuxian can see his jaw is sharper now, his shoulders somehow broader, like he’s grown to fit his bones in a way that’s not quite physical. There are new lines in his face, faint as they are. Around his eyes, mostly. The touch of a life, extended.

His skill at the guqin has improved. Or perhaps it’s just that Wei Wuxian himself is a more appreciative audience now, here on the other side of confusion and tragedy and death. He’d like to think he’s learned something from the experience, even if he doesn’t really remember a lot of it.

He watches Lan Wangji’s fingers, over the strings. Watches his face, clear as a still pond.

“Lan Zhan,” he says. He swallows past the tightness in his throat. “Do you remember the last time you played for me?”

The hands still.

“Yes.” There is still something of that soft-eyed look in his eyes, even with the year, and the new lines. Something familiar in the tightening of his lips, an echo of the last kiss they shared.

Lan Wangji stands, and crosses the dark floorboards between them. He sits at the edge of the bed, quiet and composed and every inch the cultivator Wei Wuxian always knew he would be, too good to end anywhere else, too principled to let his steps go astray. The silence between them is warm, now. Knowing.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, trying for levity and ending somewhere far too low-voiced and genuine. “You’re too good to me. How will I thank you?”

Lan Wangi watches him, dark-eyed and intent. “A favor,” he says, and reaches up between them, presses his thumb to the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth. “A promise,” as the touch sweeps across Wei Wuxian’s lips.

Wei Wuxian swallows again. He doesn’t know what he might do, if he allows himself to move, so he doesn’t move at all.

Lan Wangji��s hand falls away. He folds his sleeve carefully to the side and raises his eyes once more.

“Stay,” he says, hardly even a whisper.

Wei Wuxian laughs. It spills out of him, surprise and joy and rushing thrill strumming through him.

“Of course!” He shifts closer, onto his knees, and takes Lan Wangji’s hand in both of his own. “Of course I’ll stay, Lan Zhan,” he says, and he seals the promise with a kiss.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #the untamed #chen qing ling #cql #kissing #that's it just kissing really #alex writes

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boxoftheskyking · 4 years ago

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Something Good, Part Fourteen

This chapter was so hard, you guys. I hope it kind of works. If it doesn’t, feel free to write your own version. That’s what fanfic’s for, after all.

In which Wei Wuxian experiences A Reckoning

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

Wei Wuxian sits in the dark, under a tree, and tries to meditate. Inhale (he knows, he knows, he knows). Exhale (a low buzzing, a rushing like wind through the Burial Mounds).

There must be order. He cannot shake apart, he can’t be driven mad, he’s not that wounded, starving boy anymore. He will approach it like a complicated talisman he wants to recreate. Break things down.

Lan Wangji knows. It stands to reason that the rest of Gusu Lan knows—or at least the Sect Leader and Grandmaster. And they agreed to his punishment, bore him as a shame to the sect. Made him a commoner.

You made yourself a commoner. A cultivator without a core is no cultivator, therefore not nobility, therefore common. That’s the mathematics of it. Who took your core away? You did.

So what’s the problem, really? The Lan Sect has broken nothing, betrayed nothing. They have treated Wei Wuxian as a villain, deemed him a villain based on all the information possible.

The Lan clan are learned, virtuous, just. Lan Wangji is learned, virtuous, just. And if Lan Wangji sees him as a villain, then…

Then he’s a villain. Fine. He doesn’t mind being the villain. It doesn’t mean he’s evil, it means—

It means you were wrong.

A night bird screams somewhere behind him, and he flinches.

There it is. There’s the nerve.

Under everything, every laugh, every tease, every clever sidestep, the root of it all is this unshakeable belief that he is right. He can play anyone because he knows something they don’t—that Wei Wuxian is always right. Even after everything he’s been through, he hasn’t had any regrets, because what he did was right. He saved his brother, he defended himself. That was right.

And raising an army of corpses, and cultivating as far down the dark path as you could before they caught you, all of that was right?

He never needed to be a hero, a genius, a beauty. Anytime someone flattered and admired him when he was younger, it never felt right, felt like an itchy shirt in the wrong size. It wasn’t flattery you wanted. You never needed anything from outside. You’ve just always needed to be right.

And be honest—the voice inside him spits it at him like venom—the whole time you’ve worked here, lived as a servant, it’s not the dishonor or the work that hurts you. They want you shamed, but you aren’t, not really. It’s that it wasn’t your idea. If you’d just decided to walk away, gone to live as a farmer somewhere, wouldn’t you have been proud of yourself? Wei Wuxian, who fooled them all. Wei Wuxian who walked away.

His hackles raise, his mind springing so typically to its own defense. (What else was I to do? What would they do, if they were in my place?) But the root of that defense, the “what else could I do”—it still comes back to his fucking pride.

He doesn’t like to look at that inner spine of pride. Never has. (I never needed anything from anyone.) The defensive voice is small, but stronger, finding its feet. (How can I be proud if I never needed anything from anyone?)

That makes it worse, the venom leaks from between his teeth, over his lip, staining his skin with invisible truth. So proud that you never valued anything outside your own mind. The only standards that matter are your own.

(It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have a choice. Things just happened to me.)

It takes pride to be a martyr too, Wei Ying.

He’s been telling himself that all the ugliness inside him came from the Burial Mounds, came as the result of his sacrifice, but what if he’s been wrong? It was there earlier, the whole time. That horrible, vicious pride. The pride that made him take an extra beating, even though he knew it hurt Yanli and Uncle Jiang to watch. The pride that never let Jiang Cheng win, even when he saw how much he needed it. The pride that only ever let him tease Lan Wangji during that perfect summer, made him push and push and push beyond what any reasonable person could take, but never ask for what he wanted, never offer anything true. The pride that drove him to the edge of his abilities, raising corpses without provocation, testing the boundaries of what he’s capable of, just because he can. Just to see what’s possible. It’s a blade without a handle, this pride; it cuts him too.

(Attempt the impossible.) The defending voice is a child, learning the motto for the first time. (I didn’t have a choice, it’s how they raised me.)

Poor Wei Ying. Nothing is his fault. Nothing is ever, ever his fault.

The whirlpool opens up inside him, an Abyss leading him down, down, howling in his ears. Creatures move around him in the dark woods, snapping branches, breathing in the dark. The venom voice grows like a dog inside his mind, and the child shrinks back, desperate for something to hide behind. He can’t breathe; his lungs are stone, his bones are iron, he’s going to sink into the earth and leave no trace behind, and no one will miss him.

Get up.

It’s not the defender, and it’s not the accuser. It’s familiar. It’s—

Get up, Wei Ying.

It’s Madam Xiao.

Get up, Wei Ying. There’s work to be done.

No, it’s Madam Yu.

Get up, Wei Ying. You’re no good to anyone crying in the dark.

It’s Cangse Sanren.

Get up, Wei Ying. You’re still alive, aren’t you? You survived the ghost mountain, you climbed your way with bleeding feet to the top of a pile of corpses and conquered them all. And this is where you give up? What, will you be chewed to death by rabbits? Get up, you silly boy.

Wei Wuxian gets up.

---

He is rolling up his one spare shirt and pair of trousers when Lin Biming finds him. If he’s surprised to see the bag on the bed in front of him, he doesn’t show it.

“Where will you go?” he asks, and in the half-light of the empty sleeping quarters he looks old, sad.

“Wherever you like. Send me anywhere, sell me off, trade me for someone competent. Someone who doesn’t scorch the laundry, eh, Master Lin?”

Lin Biming doesn’t smile back.

“Surely another sect would take me. It’s not fair that Gusu bears this shame alone. The Grandmaster was right about that.”

Lin Biming goes to a chest in the corner and pulls out an extra blanket. He rolls it neatly and holds it out. Wei Wuxian takes it and turns to pack it away, blinking hard against the sweetness of it.

“I—” he starts, but he’s cut off.

“I’ll need to speak to the Sect Leader. If I just let you go, that’s a diplomatic issue.”

“Of course.” There’s so much more to say, to apologize for. The man deserves an explanation, but Wei Wuxian can’t think of where to begin.

“Get yourself some leftover dinner from the kitchen. I’m not sure how long your trip will be.”

Wei Wuxian slings the bag over his shoulder and follows him out the door. He tries not to think about the weight of little Lan Sizhui on his back as he ducks away towards the kitchen. Before he can enter, a hand grabs his elbow.

“Wei-qianbei?”

“Wen Ning? What are you doing here?”

“The little ones can’t sleep, so I wanted to find you. Why do you have a bag?”

Wei Wuxian looks around, but can’t find a way to stall. Take the pain, you’ve earned it.

“I have to leave.”

Wen Ning’s eyes go wide and round, his dear little mouth falling open. “Why? Did we— What did we do wrong?”

Wei Wuxian throws his arms around him. “Nothing, nothing at all. Never, ever, ever. It’s all big world things, nothing to do with you.”

“But we need you.” Wen Ning’s hands grasp the back of his shirt. “Please, you can’t leave.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s like being cut open again, things removed from inside his chest. “Wen Ning, I—”

“You have to say goodbye to them.” Wen Ning lets him go and steps back, jaw set.

“I can’t.”

“You have to. None of the others ever said goodbye. But you’re different, right? You have to be different. For the little ones, at least. They won’t understand.”

“They’ll forget soon enough. And you have your jiejie. Isn’t that better? She’ll take care of you, and you’ll forget all about this one servant. It’ll be better with her. Aren’t you glad she’s here now?”

I’m right, I’m right, agree with me.

“I am, but . . .” Wen Ning’s brow is furrowed, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t think, when she got here, I didn’t think I’d have to choose.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Wen Ning nods once, growing a year in that one gesture, and leaves. Wei Wuxian is numb, no feeling in his fingers, no heartbeat.

He stumbles away from the kitchen (away, away, away echoing in his mind), heading for the main path down the mountain. Lin Biming can find him here, or they can send guards to capture him, he just needs to keep walking. His skin is nailed to the wall of the kitchen, and every step pulls another inch of it away.

He’s just stepped out under the trees when he hears “WEI WUXIAN” shouted with a full burst of spiritual energy, echoing and reverberating off the stone beneath him. Sparks fly past his ears and he freezes, shocked out of his despair.

He turns around gingerly to find Wen Qing staring him down, her hair loose and one red robe hurriedly thrown over her sleeping clothes. A few white clad figures are hurrying down the path behind her, but Wei Wuxian can’t look away from the fury on her face.

“Wen Qing?”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to. After what you said. They know, and I can’t stay here if they know and it makes no difference.”

“What difference is it supposed to make? What does it matter?” He’s never heard her so angry, and the part of him that isn’t legitimately frightened is downright proud.

He can see the figures behind her now, Lin Biming, Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji.

“Just let me go, Wen Qing. It’s fine. I was only ever going to get in the way—”

“You made my little brother cry!” she bellows, and a hot wind blows his hair back from his face.

Lan Xichen reaches out to touch her arm gently.

“Lady Wen, if I may?” He turns to Wei Wuxian, looking tired but patient. “Wei Wuxian, I understand that today was difficult. Wen Chao’s reaction was . . . regrettable. And if you cannot stay in Cloud Recesses, we respect your wishes. You have more than earned that.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him, confused. “It’s not about today.”

“It’s not?”

“All this time, I—” Wei Wuxian looks around at all of them, at a loss for words. “All this time I thought you didn’t know the truth. About my golden core. I thought if you did, then you might— but I was wrong. And I don’t know what that mean; I don’t know what I am anymore; I don’t know what I’m good for, and I can’t figure that out here.”

“Why not?” It’s Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian covers his face and groans into his hands. Because of you, and the way you’re looking at me right now, because your hands are so big and warm and your eyes are so soft, and none of it means anything, and I can’t handle it.

“We all know you lost your golden core,” Lan Xichen says gently.

“You can’t tell Jiang Cheng.” He’s a moment away from falling to his knees. “Please, you owe me nothing, but please. It will destroy him.”

“I don’t understand,” Lan Xichen sounds like he is really, truly trying. “What does Jiang Wanyin have to do with—”

“Because he’s the one who has it!”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, grabbing his hands. “I’ve told no one. I swore to you I wouldn’t.”

“But you said—”

“I swore to you.”

“You said he knows. You told me that Lan Zhan knows.” His hands are the only real part of him, tethered by hers. The rest of him is smoke, looking for a shape, a container, floating around as nothing. His vision is blurry, like the moment before fainting.

“Wei Ying.” She grabs his face and shakes him a little. “I meant that he knows how you feel about him. I thought that’s what you were saying. Everyone knows. You’d have to be a blind fool not to.”

The complete reversal of Wei Wuxian’s entire life is interrupted by a quiet gasp to his right.

“How Wei Ying feels . . . about me?” Lan Wangji is staring at him, eyebrows furrowed.

Wen Qing sighs. “And clearly I was wrong anyway.”

“And clearly,” Lan Xichen says, “there is information we are lacking.”

Wen Qing looks over at him for a long moment, then nods. “Wei Ying, it’s time to tell them.”

“Can I sit down?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he drops down into the dirt, legs kicked out like a half-crushed spider. Lan Wangji rushes over to kneel beside him, one hand hovering an inch away from his forehead.

“Are you all right?”

“You’re not the doctor,” Wei Wuxian says faintly. “She is.”

“Is he sick?” Lan Wangji asks the others.

Wen Qing smacks Wei Wuxian’s face gently. “He’ll be fine. Wei Ying, I’m going to talk to Lan Xichen. You talk to Wangji.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You invented a new type of cultivation while living off corpse potatoes and carrion. You’ll figure it out.”

Without another word, she turns to Lan Xichen and nods, gesturing him back up the path. Lin Biming, looking as stressed as ever, grabs Wei Wuxian’s bag and hurries after them.

“I guess I’m staying,” Wei Wuxian says, and somehow that sets him off laughing. “I think I’m going mad.”

“What did you mean. Wei Ying. When you said ‘he has it.’ What did you mean?”

Finally, Wei Wuxian’s eyes focus, and he can’t stop a smile at Lan Wangji’s worried face. How strange that he used to think he had no expression.

“I don’t think I can stand up right now, Lan Zhan. Will you sit by me?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t hesitate, he sits down in the dirt, white robes and all. They must make an absurd picture, white and grey sprawled out on the path like cast off clothing.

“Lan Zhan, I’m going to tell you a story. But you have to promise—”

“I promise.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan! You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“It doesn’t matter. I promise.”

The promise is a building. A house for him to live in. He stops drifting and feels the ground underneath him, and then he begins.

Part Fifteen

#something good #assorted writings #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #ughhh this plot stuff is too much for me #climb every freakin mountain indeed

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 8

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 8 - Drive Away the Ghost

If a city had existed for thousands of years, no matter how prosperous it looks on the surface, some people still believe in legends and some corners of the city still retained the oldest mysterious customs. Once Lin Yan had left the police station, he drove northwest. The surrounding people were gradually thinning out, and the mountains were foggy at dusk. When the entire trail was almost enveloped by the dense fog, Lin Yan finally found his destination at the foot of the Xishan Mountain.

Lin Yan stopped the car and compared the photos he found on the Internet with the scenery in front of him. This was it. A small temple without a name was built on the side of the mountain. Two white lanterns in front of the door and the candles had been replaced with electric lights. It looked very ominous in the night. By the well in the yard, there was a holy spirit banner hanging on a jujube tree with a crooked trunk next to it, the strands of cloth fluttering in the wind.

Although the appearance of the small temple was fairly inconspicuous, it was quite famous among supernatural enthusiasts. It was different from ordinary Buddhist temples for worshipping gods and praying for blessings. This ancient temple had only one purpose, and that was to exorcise ghosts. Most people always thought that where there was a temple, there was a spiritual aura. It is true for an ancient temple on the mountain, but this temple was built on flat ground. From the perspective of feng shui, the mountain belonged to the light Yang energy. The temple was built in the middle of the mountain to connect with the clear and righteousness, and was more accessible to the gods; the depression in the earth gathers the dark Yin energy. This temple was built in a low-lying place in front of the mountain to attract the lonely spirits and wild ghosts, and they won't disturb anyone in the area. Because of this, there was a saying that the temple should not be demolished. Xishan Temple was a mass grave in ancient times, and it experienced lots of grievances. This small temple had been preserved to this day because of its special function.

Lin Yan glanced at the rustling banner hanging at the door and silently turned his car off.

This was the riskiest thing he could try according to the information he had found on the internet.

Having called in advance, the master of the temple had been waiting outside. When Lin Yan approached, he greeted him with a smile: "Sit down, do you want to pray for peace or do dharma ceremonies?"

The man wore an earth-yellow robe. He didn't shave his hair, keeping it buzzed down instead; he looked 70% like a monk and 30% like a Daoist priest. Lin Yan looked at the furnishings in the temple; the limestone walls, the concrete floor, and an old wooden table with faded clothes on it with incense burners and fruit offerings. There was a strong scent of sandalwood that lingered in the room. Lin Yan took out a lighter and gestured to it. Seeing that the master had no objection, he took out a cigarette and lit it. After taking a drag, he said in a deep voice, "Neither, I want to kill a ghost."

He didn't know if it was a psychological effect, but Lin Yan felt that as soon as he spoke, cool air washed over him. The temple master was taken aback, and quickly said: "You can't talk nonsense here, they'll hear you." After speaking, he looked back at the door for a long time, and couldn't help but frown. "What a heavy hostility. This man died violently and he's been dead for a while."

Lin Yan glanced in the direction indicated by the master. It was an empty space and he couldn't see anything.

"I'll say it outright. Guest, you have less than three months left to live."

"Master, you must be joking." Lin Yan tried to keep his voice calm, but his fingers trembling unconsciously.

"A-Yan, pour a glass of water for the guest." The temple master shouted into the back hall, then turned to Lin Yan and said, "Since you came all the way to my small temple, it must have taken a lot of effort, but let’s talk not beat around the bush and get to the point. How did you provoke such a life-threatening ghost?"

Lin Yan didn't know what to say.

The host said indifferently: "I'm used to seeing these silk clothes. I think this Ming Dynasty shirt is a bit cordial."

Ming Dynasty shirt. . . The familiar words evoked something in Lin Yan's memories. He couldn't keep in his gasp. Did the strange man really see ghosts? He couldn't help but think of the archaeological practice he had mentioned to Yin Zhou. He was responsible for the cleaning of the main room of Pit No.16. He kept turning over the materials every night for a week with just the light of a miner's lamp. Next, they excavated a camphor coffin sealed with 64 copper nails. The coffin was covered in thick, black lacquer. He leaned over the coffin and used a soft brush to clean the corpse. He peeled off nine sets of mouldy and decayed mortuary clothes layer by layer and patted the body for the funeral objects scattered in the gap between the bones. . .

"Last month, I did enter an ancient tomb from the Ming Dynasty in Shanxi. . ." Lin Yan said in shock.

"Like the sutras say: everything has a consequence." The temple master smiled and asked for Lin Yan's birth date. He made some calculations and said strangely: "The four pillars are interspersed in Yin. The Four Pillars of Destiny has roots in the gateway of the universe. Based on the universal retrograde, this person has heavy Yin energy. No wonder he found you."

"This person died in a terrible accident, with resentment born in his heart from it. His spirit has felt like this for too long. A lonely soul becomes an evil spirit no better than a beast. I am afraid it will be difficult to survive this spirit."

Lin Yan interrupted him: "Can you do something about it?"

The temple master replied: "I can only disperse his spirit which means that he would no longer be able to enter the cycle of reincarnation."

Lin Yan lowered his head and squeezed his hands together softly. He thought of the madness and aggravation of the things in the elevator, the shameful memories in the living room, and the face of the grandmother in the morgue. He clenched his fists and said fiercely: "He killed someone. I don't know when the second or even the third victim might be. Why should I be kind and save his soul? He forfeited his life with murder; he deserves this."

"I don't care who he is, I just want him to go back to wherever he came from." Lin Yan said coldly: "Send him away, I'll pay whatever you want."

The host sighed, and took out a stack of yellow paper from under the table: "Whoever says that ghosts can be cruel; people are just as cruel."

While they talked, the little disciple sped out from the back hall carrying the tea tray and respectfully handed the tea to Lin Yan. He put the remaining cup in the tea tray next to the fruit tray on the incense table. He lowered his head and said, "You are a guest, you must be thirsty too. Please drink."

Lin Yan was taken aback, wondering why this voice was so familiar. The little disciple met Lin Yan's gaze. He was taken aback, and then smiled: "It's you."

With a lean figure, pale and slender face, and wearing a nondescript blue earthen cloth robe, it turned out to be the strange Daoist priest he had run into during the day.

Lin Yan's mind was confused, wondering whether this was a Buddhist temple or not. Why did a Daoist priest show up?

"This-, this is my master." He turned his face to the temple master and bowed his head: "Lin Yan is my university classmate."

Lin Yan vaguely remembered this Daoist with the last name Yan. When they were in their undergrad, the two were in the same department and their dormitory was on the same floor. Normally, Lin Yan was looking down in class so he didn't see him. However, he was introverted, uncomfortable in social settings and had stuttering problems. He was never seen at school-organized activities. He never participated, so his classmate Lin Yan couldn't even remember his real name for four years. The title of Daoist priest was as impactful as thunder. At that time, the freshmen had just moved into the dormitory of the school. Within a few days, there were rumours that there was a weird man on the same floor who was burning paper while muttering to the air in the dormitory. He also liked to make some ghost-like talismans and stick them everywhere. After a while, the guys in the dormitory couldn't bear it anymore, so they forced him out. They changed the locks on the doors to keep him out all night, threw his things out of the windows in the dormitory. He lasted half a semester before they drove him out of the dorms.

This story was told as a joke in the department for a long time. The most troublesome thing for Lin Yan as the dorm supervisor at the time was the issues with this Daoist priest. No matter how hard he tried to force the strange Daoist priest to stand up for himself, he would never fight back. He lowered his head and dealt with whatever happened after that. Later, when his course got more intense, Lin Yan couldn't take care of him, and slowly forgot about the whole thing.

"You-, you just call me A-Yan," The Daoist priest whispered. "I don't mind."

After concluding on a price, A-Yan brought out a red lacquer box from the back hall. The temple master ordered the contents to be laid out one by one; yellow paper, sacrificial incense, cinnabar, a short knife that seems to be several years old, and some bottles and jars with unknown contents.

"After everything is done like how I say, this wicked creature will have cultivated a physical body. Now is not a good time, and I'm not completely sure about this. If something goes wrong, we may have to deal with it here." The temple master faintly commanded: "Set the array."

The master and apprentice went to work. Lin Yan had never seen something like this before and felt like it was out of a movie. He saw the temple master lock the doors and windows and evenly sprinkled the incense ash on the window edges and the door cracks, placing a copper coin at various intervals. After that, the doors and windows were closed with red ropes. The whole room was connected by the ropes. Finally, a thin layer of cinnabar was spread on the floor, and the yellow paper and short knife were placed on the table for later use.

"The red rope wards off evil spirits and prevents anything outside from coming in, and anything inside from getting out." The temple owner said: "The negative atmosphere in the mountain at midnight is extremely strong, and the cinnabar brings light. After a while, the wild ghosts in the mountain will come running in anger to this conflicting energy."

Lin Yan suddenly became nervous: "What do you mean, 'wild ghost'?"

"Some are lone souls who don't believe that they are dead, some are poor people who had no one to collect their bodies, and some were killed and are waiting to get resurrected. It doesn't matter, the trouble is with the one following you." The temple master gestured towards the centre of the room. So far, the development of the matter had completely exceeded the limit of Lin Yan's imagination. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

"This can isolate yin and yang energy, and ghosts will not be able to find you if you sprinkle it on your body. Remember that you will not be able to speak or breathe afterwards. No matter what happens, do as I say." The temple master picked up one of the jars from the table. He unscrewed the lid and sprinkled all the stone powder on Lin Yan's body. Seeing Lin Yan's nervousness, A-Yan gave a hesitant smile: "The temple is very dark, give it a minute and you'll be able to see. I was so scared the first time I saw it."

He took out a piece of cypress wood from the basket. He used the knife to engrave Lin Yan’s birthday characters and then cut out a small paper man to paste on it. His hand moved delicately. The little red paper man stretched in his hands, grinning. But there was an indescribable weirdness on the table.

As the night grew deeper, the mountain breeze blew the leaves of the jujube trees in the courtyard. There were no people in the area for dozens of miles. The ancient temple was lit with faint lights. Lin Yan thought, if someone passed by at this time and saw three people in the room sitting in a red line around an oil lamp, they would have to be extremely frightened.

Time passed by, and there was no change in the surroundings. Lin Yan took out his phone and checked the time. It was 11:30 and they had been waiting for almost two hours, but the temple master and A-Yan remained silent, as though they were meditating.

The flame on the table moved.

"It's here," A-Yan said, and then motioned Lin Yan to pay attention to what was behind him. Lin Yan turned around and saw that there was nothing unusual. Then he saw it.

There are obviously only three of them in the room, but there were four shadows on the wall.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel

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drdln3-blog · 3 years ago

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The Secret to Happy Life

Here is a list of 15 essentials a person should strive to achieve happiness:

1. GOOD HEALTH - First and foremost is GOOD HEALTH. So take care of Physical and Mental Health problems. If you do not enjoy good health you cannot be happy. Any ailment, however trivial, will deduct from your happiness and make it harder to be happy. While it’s not always possible to “cure” everything, address your physical and emotional needs as best as possible. Some people allow themselves to have lingering pains, or struggles with depression. Take the steps to address it. It will change your entire experience of the world.

2. A HEALTHY BANK BALANCE - Money cannot buy happiness is true and every billionaire is not happy. However, poverty is stressful; and if you can pay for the basics comfortably - it will remove a lot of that stress from your life. You don’t have to be wealthy, but some amount of financial comfort will prevent the worries about the basics of everyday life. It need not run into millions but should be enough to provide for creature comforts and something to spare for recreation, like eating out, going to the pictures, travelling or going on holidays on the hills or by the sea. So have a few bucks in the bank. Shortage of money can be demoralizing. Living on credit or borrowing is demeaning and lowers one in one's own eyes.

3. A HOME OF YOUR OWN - Rented premises can never give you the snug feeling of a nest which is yours for keeps that a home provides; if it has a garden space, all the better. Plant your own trees and flowers, see them grow and blossom, cultivate a sense of kinship with them. "God is not found on mountain tops. He lives in cozy homes and within you."

4. AN UNDERSTANDING COMPANION - Be it your spouse or a friend. If there are too many misunderstandings, they will rob you of your peace of mind. Don’t settle in who you marry. Marriage is the single biggest decision you make, so be picky and marry the right person for you. Don’t rush in because you think it’s “time” or you feel “pressure.” Marry someone you are excited about, who makes you feel amazing, and who is good to you down to their last breath. Don’t compromise or settle on this one - it makes a large part of the mood of your home every single day…why not make it great! It is better to be single than to bicker all the time. Choose your friends and people around you carefully - they will have an effect on your mind and soul.

5. LACK OF ENVY - Stop comparing with those who have done better than you in life; risen higher, made more money, or earned more fame. Envy can be very corroding; avoid comparing yourself with others. You will become vain and bitter. Because there will always be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Being happy in your own skin is one of the biggest keys to happiness. A lot of unhappiness comes from people believing that they are “less than” because of images they see or messages they ingest. You can be so much happier going all-in on you.

6. BE OKAY WITH BAD DAYS - Part of living a happy life, is realizing that you won’t be happy 24/7, and being fine with it. You’ll have times of grief, and times of irritation, and times of stress or anxiety…and that’s fine. Accepting that you’re a human with a range of emotions, and seeing every day as a new day, is part of what makes you happy. Self-acceptance of just being human and not too hard on you is massive. “Life isn't burger king. You can't always have it your way.” “Life is a circle of happiness, sadness, hard times, and good times. If you are going through hard times have faith that good times are on the way. The higher the aim, the more struggles.”

7. DO NOT ALLOW OTHER PEOPLE - to descend on you for gossip and bad mouthing about others. By the time you get rid of them, you will feel exhausted and poisoned by their gossip-mongering. Always remember: "Intelligent people talk about ideas. Average people talk about things. Small people talk about other people. And fools argue."

8. CULTIVATE SOME HOBBIES – that can bring you a sense of fulfilment, such as gardening, reading, writing, painting, playing or listening to music. Do more things you like! This sounds silly, but there are people who say they used to love painting, but haven’t done it in 10 years! Why? Life gets so busy that the first things we cut are sometimes hobbies - we don’t see them as “essential” or “important,” but they absolutely are when we’re talking about happiness. Make time for things you truly enjoy - it makes life more enjoyable. Going to clubs or parties to get free drinks or to meet celebrities is temporary fun and waste of time.

9. SEEK OUT THE GOOD – Your mindset and mood are often influenced by what you feed it. This is true of people you surround yourself with, and even the media you ingest. Limit toxic people. Limit toxic headlines/news media, and seek to spend more time/energy with the good. Choose your friends and people around you carefully - they will have an effect on your mind and soul. “A good life is a collection of happy moments. Be happy for this moment this moment is your life.”

10. HELP OTHERS - If you want to be happy, there is a lot of joy in helping others. Some of what makes life wonderful is feeling useful, helping another without expecting return, and being reminded of your own good fortune (gratitude)…even if that is driving a friend to a doctor’s appointment, or helping a neighbor carry her groceries. Making the world a better place makes you feel better too.

11. LIVE IN THE PRESENT - Today is a new day, and some people have pasts that are incredibly hard. Live in the present, not in the past…or you’ll be stuck there and miss the great stuff of today. “Yesterday is a history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift that is why we call it present.” Live each day as it was your last. Tomorrow is not promised." “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain.”

12. MOVE YOUR BODY - Being able to move your body a bit will keep you happy. There are seniors doing shows where they dance, and young kids running in the yard. You don’t have to be an Olympian to move…just even going for a walk every day, or doing some stretches. Your brain has a way of responding to movement that makes people feel happier. “Life is like riding a bicycle, if you don’t move you fall.”

13. HAVE NEW EXPERIENCES – Doing something new doesn’t have to be traveling to a distant land - maybe it’s just trying your hand at baking a pie, eating a new type of food you’ve never had, fixing something around the house you never did before, taking a new route for walk, or visiting a small town nearby you’ve never been to. New experiences give us things to look forward to, things to talk about, and bring back some of the curiosity of being a child.

14. LOVE IN YOUR LIFE - If you have a person who truly loves you in this world, and accepts you for exactly who you are - it will help contribute to your sense of happiness. Even having a pet that loves you can also help this. Love is powerful, and while it isn’t everything, it makes the bad times easier to bear. Being loved, and loving another brings many people great satisfaction and joy.

15. INTROSPECTION - Every morning and evening, devote 15 minutes to INTROSPECTION. In the morning, 10 minutes should be spent on stilling the mind doing meditation and breathing, and then five in listing things you have to do that day. In the evening or before sleeping, 10 minutes to still the mind again, and five to go over what you had undertaken to do.

Here’re some quotes for you to enjoy!

“Your career, your spouse, and your children are like a three-legged stool of Happiness. The stronger the legs the better is the stability.”

“A good life is a collection of happy moments. Be happy for this moment this moment is your life.”

“Our attitude defines life:

Life is best for those, who just want to live it.

Life is difficult for those, who want to analyze it.

Life is worst for those, who want to criticize it.”

“One of the greatest blessings in the world is to be able to be happy even when things in life are not going the way we planned.”

“Don't wait for the perfect moment, take the moment and make it perfect. And be happy for this moment; this moment is your life.”

“Never blame any day in your life. Good days give you happiness, bad days give you experience, and the worst days give you a lesson.”

About the Author: Dr. Sukhraj S. Dhillon is an eminent Scientist with numerous research publications in life sciences who studied at Yale University and served as a Professor at University in North Carolina. He has written more than a dozen books on topics of Health, Aging, Vegetarianism, Weight control, Stress-free living, Meditation, Yoga, Power of Now, Spirituality, Soul, God, Science, and Religion. His articles and books are a pointer to his line of thinking including current publication. He has been the President, Chairman of the board, and life-trustee of a non-profit religious organization and has expressed his views in the congregation and at international seminars.

Reference: “Health, Happiness and Longevity” available from popular booksellers throughout the world including Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble.

https://www.amazon.com/Dr.-Sukhraj-S.-Dhillon/e/B004584DL0?ref_=dbs_p_ebk_r00_abau_000000

http://www.dpcpress.com/pa.html

#happiness #stress #health #health habits

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lightshadowverisimilitude · 4 years ago

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Songbird 1/?

I’m just going to start posting all the 645664064724 bunnies I have laying around, okay?

This one is called “Captive Bride” on the bunny mountain. Nielan, Wangxian. I didn’t set OUT to make it a Beauty and the Beast AU... but it’s basically a Beauty and the Beast AU.

Lan Wangji held up a single hand. In the darkness, Wei Wuxian was nearly invisible. If he closed his eyes and his lips both, he might have faded into the surrounding shadows altogether, while the juniors stood out like clouds backlit by sunbeams where they knelt in the brush.

They had received the urgent request for aid from Lotus Pier just as the sun was passing its zenith, and it had been all Lan Wangji could do to hold Wei Wuxian back long enough to gather a party. The Jiang messenger had collapsed on the steps outside the gates immediately after gasping, “The Nie have descended on Yunmeng.” He had still been unconscious when Lan Wangji had assembled all available cultivators - most juniors - to make a run for their close ally. Taking so many juniors into battle made his skin prickle with unease, but they would need to be blooded eventually, and a skirmish in friendly territory while the Jiang clan was still strong was as gentle an introduction as they were likely to get.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said after a pair of long minutes had passed, slipping up beside him. “What is it?”

Lan Wangji frowned into the darkness. They had all descended to the ground once the sun had set to be less conspicuous targets, but Lan Wangji gripped Bichen tightly and wished they had stayed aloft. He slid his eyes sideways to eye Wei Wuxian’s black-on-gray robes once more and considered the merits of suggesting darker battle gear for such situations as this.

“Not sure,” Lan Wangji admitted. With seventeen juniors all under the age of eighteen to mind and only three adults including himself and his husband, he might have been imagining the shadows leering at them.

“Seems quiet,” Wei Wuxian said, but in agreement rather than protest.

Lan Wangji nodded. The creatures around them were too still. It could have been a response to their own presence, but he had called a halt several minutes ago, and the normal night sounds had not yet resumed.

Holding a hand out, Wei Wuxian traced a seal on his palm, and then blew across it. A faint flicker of red limned the wings of a shadowy butterfly. He leaned close to whisper instructions, and then released the talisman. It drifted away from his fingers like smoke, disappearing into the shadows immediately.

Wei Wuxian twisted to look behind him and then turned back with a sigh. He tutted under his breath. “They practically glow.”

“Mmn,” Lan Wangji agreed.

“I think you should let me have some disciples of my own,” Wei Wuxian said, and then pivoted slowly on his toes so that he faced the opposite direction and could keep an eye on their charges. Lan Xiu was at the rear of their party, his guqin already across his lap.

“Mmn,” Lan Wangji said again. The recent aggression of the Nie clan and the resulting plunge into a war that no one had been prepared to fight had highlighted to Lan Wangji the particular weaknesses of his clan. No other clan fought like the Nie, and it had taken them all by surprise, but Lan Wangji privately admitted that they had been perhaps the least well-equipped to handle the brutal attacks.

Wei Wuxian looked at him sharply, but Lan Wangji said nothing more, and Wei Wuxian released his curiosity for the moment.

The juniors at least seemed aware that they were brilliant targets in the darkness, and they had hunkered down in the underbrush back-to-back. They were utterly silent, and even Wei Wuxian was uncharacteristically still.

A flicker of movement. Lan Wangji thumbed Bichen from her sheath and scanned his eyes slowly over the trees, letting his gaze wander to better capture any movement at the periphery of his vision. At a whisper of cool air, Lan Wangji glanced to Wei Wuxian. The shadow butterfly perched on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, only visible because of the slow fluttering of its wings. It walked on smoke-light feet up the side of Wei Wuxian’s neck and clung to his cheek, whispering its report in his ear.

Without speaking, Wei Wuxian turned again and gestured out in front of Lan Wangji, finger angling upward. Lan Wangji followed the line of his arm and finally saw it. A slightly darker clump of shadows crouched in a tree thirty yards ahead of them. It might have been only a denser bundle of limbs, but as Lan Wangji watched, the shadow lifted its head and the whites of its eyes caught the moonlight and reflected it back.

Realizing immediately that he had been spotted, the man leapt out of the trees. A pair of short, dark blades came unsheathed as he descended, flashing in the weak light. Lan Wangji leapt to meet him while the shadows around them exploded. Behind him, he heard the twang of a guqin, and then a startled rush of noise from the juniors.

Lan Wangji met one blade with Bichen and repelled the other with a fast hand seal. The force sent him spinning away, and he had the barest window to reach out and touch his fingertips to his opponent’s side. He sent a short burst of pure spiritual energy out of his hand and was rewarded with a pained cry. The black-clad cultivator tumbled out of the sky and crashed hard into the underbrush. Lan Wangji maintained the pressure of his spiritual energy against the ground to keep himself aloft and turned briefly to check on the rest of his team.

The juniors had drawn together. One had her flute out, but the notes trembled as they tripped through the trees, and the song was doing more to raise the anxiety of her fellows than give them strength.

“Stop that and draw your sword,” Wei Wuxian ordered calmly before Lan Wangji could say anything. He clapped his hands sharply together and thrust one hand out. A flutter of pale yellow paper, and then a shadowy form was flying through the trees with one of Wei Wuxian’s clever paperman talismans attached to his chest.

Leaving the care of the juniors to his husband, Lan Wangji pulled his spiritual energy back in and lowered to the ground. His earlier opponent staggered upright with one hand pressed to his side. Likely, he had broken several ribs, either from the initial strike, or the resulting fall. With obvious effort, he pulled himself upright, took in a breath, and went back on the offensive. Lan Wangji parried, frowning. The more effective strike would have aimed for his throat, but the man had come in low, aiming for his left leg instead.

A wide sweep of Bichen’s blade sent his opponent stumbling backwards. The man came in with another strike meant to disable. Lan Wangji reversed his grip and slammed Bichen’s pommel hard into the other man’s forehead. The attacker choked, dropping one short sword to clutch at his head, and then doubled over and vomited into a bush.

Lan Wangji delivered a sharp blow to the back of his neck. He slumped forward, but Lan Wangji watched him for a moment longer to ensure he was not going to climb back to his feet. Seeing no movement, Lan Wangji turned. Lan Xiu had abandoned his guqin and fought with three opponents at once, Wei Wuxian flung talismans out as fast as his hands could move, and the juniors had broken into small groups to face any of at least two dozen of the shadowy attackers.

Sheathing Bichen, Lan Wangji summoned his guqin from his qiankun sleeve and danced his fingers down the strings. The greatest concentration of fighting was around Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji aimed his strike there, driving half a dozen of the attacking cultivators off their feet and back into the trees.

Wei Wuxian flicked a glance at him, nodding, and then drew Suibian and slashed it across one man’s throat in the same smooth movement. Lan Wangji turned his attention back to the juniors, striding forward as he picked out another series of notes to calm their minds and strengthen their resolve. His students were good in a fight, if untested, and their training had taken hold where their experience had failed. Their sword forms were neat and perfect, but the confines of the young forest, still choked with undergrowth, and the unusual fighting style of their opponents was wholly unlike the practice field.

Lan Wangji ran both hands over the strings, sending a wave of visible spiritual energy through the trees that scattered a group of their attackers and had still more tumbling from the trees. He released Bichen from her sheath and sent her flying, tracking the flickering sword glares and quickly separating friend from foe.

Behind him, Wei Wuxian grunted, and then hissed. Lan Wangji sent a ripple of energy in front of him, giving himself just enough breathing room to turn. Wei Wuxian had one hand clenched hard to his side, but Suibian still flashed, wicked and almost playful in the shifting light. Lan Wangji clenched his jaw and turned back, trusting Wei Wuxian to take care of himself in a fight where their juniors were more in need of his attention.

A moment later, he heard a short, gurgling cry, and looked sharply to his left to see Lan Xiu double over and disappear into the bushes. Three juniors rushed to his side, two fending off his opponents while the third knelt to check his injuries. Lan Wangji pressed his spiritual energy downward to propel himself over the heads of his juniors and down in Lan Xiu’s abandoned place, Bichen curving through the trees to a staccato rhythm of clarion clangs and started gasps.

“To me!” Wei Wuxian called suddenly.

Lan Wangji did not turn, but drew his fingers over a quick run of notes to build pressure, and then released it with a single sharp strike. A pulse of blue light lit up another dozen figures as Lan Wangji leapt backwards.

The juniors had retreated as well, three of them carrying Lan Xiu’s limp form between them while their fellows surrounded them with drawn swords. Wei Wuxian led them unerringly through the trees, quick flickers of red butterflies lighting the path. Lan Wangji followed in short hops, turning every second stride to force their pursuers back.

Behind him, sharp cracks of fire dragged cultivators out of the trees and sent them screaming to earth. Seeing Wei Wuxian’s delicate butterflies set to such a purpose both made Lan Wangji’s chest swell with pride and sink in sadness. Bichen came flying back to him. He lifted the guqin out of the way to catch her in her sheath as Wei Wuxian’s butterflies bought them enough breathing room to open their strides to a full run.

A short time later, they came to a sheltered clump of boulders, and Wei Wuxian led them directly inside. One giant stone had toppled over at some point in the distant past to form an imperfect roof and create a defensible space that gave them enough room to spread out some distance. There were only three spaces in the rocks large enough to admit a person, and the juniors moved immediately to cover two while Lan Wangji put himself in front of the last.

“These Nie,” Wei Wuxian complained, but his voice was hoarse and he looked ghostly pale in the flickering light of his cloud of butterflies.

“How bad?” Lan Wangji asked, eyes drawn down to Wei Wuxian’s side. He could not see how much blood had soaked into Wei Wuxian’s dark robes, but he could smell the metallic tang of it and noticed how shallow his husband’s breaths were as he hunched subtly to the left.

“Barely a scratch,” Wei Wuxian said brightly, which only alarmed Lan Wangji all the more. “I’ve gotten worse from girls’ fingernails,” he added. The statement had been calculated to distract Lan Wangji with jealousy.

Glaring, Lan Wangji called two of the junior’s over to take his place. Ignoring Wei Wuxian’s muttered protests, he pressed his hand to Wei Wuxian’s side. His eyes widened at the feel of the sodden fabric.

“It’s fine,” Wei Wuxian told him softly. “Really. I’ve caught most of the bleeding already. Some of it isn’t mine.”

Lan Wangji probed at his qi and found that Wei Wuxian was being uncommonly honest. He had a tendency to understate his most critical injuries while whining loudly about the most minor so that Lan Wangji always assumed he was on the verge of death whenever Wei Wuxian dismissed an injury or said, “It’s fine.”

Wei Wuxian had refocused enough spiritual energy to create a temporary bandage over the wound, stopping the bleeding. However, Lan Wangji had no doubt that Wei Wuxian would recall that energy as soon as he felt that it was needed, so he quickly pulled a roll of bandages from his sleeve and fitted it over the wound. On the ground, the three who had pulled Lan Xiu to safety were doing the same, working swiftly but calmly on a wound to his abdomen. He moaned softly, still unconscious.

“Did you notice?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly, lifting his arm out of the way without complaint so Lan Wangji could wind the bandage around his torso.

Glancing quickly over the tense juniors, Lan Wangji nodded. “They're after you?”

Wei Wuxian approximately a shrug. “Why?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes flitted to the butterflies still dancing around them. Wei Wuxian was a highly unconventional cultivator, and his inventions had already sent ripples through the cultivation world. The Jin sect had tried to recruit him right under Lan Wangji’s nose, and he received requests almost weekly to be a guest instructor for any number of sects, both large and small.

Lowering his voice so even Lan Wangji could barely hear it, Wei Wuxian said, “I’m sure one of them tried to grab Lan Xiu. He struggled away, and I think the sword thrust was a mistake.”

Lan Wangji frowned. “You're sure?”

Borrowing from Lan Wangji’s vocabulary, Wei Wuxian said, “Mmn.”

“You, they’re trying to kill.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again. “How many Lan cultivators have gone missing?” he asked.

Lan Wangji didn’t answer. They both knew the number, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have forgotten. Eighteen had disappeared off various battlefields in the months of fighting, and none had returned. No bodies left behind, simple gone. It was why Cloud Recesses could spare no one but the oldest class of junior disciples for Yunmeng’s aid.

“We’re closer to Lotus Pier,” Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. Despite Lan Wangji having given no other indication to his thoughts, Wei Wuxian said, “I’m not running and leaving you here.”

“I am worth a ransom.”

Snorting incredulously, Wei Wuxian said, “And I’m not?”

“Injured,” Lan Wangji pointed out. He tied the bandage off and started to hum, pouring energy into it.

Wei Wuxian slapped at his hands, leaving sticky prints behind. “Don’t waste your energy if you’re going to be this stupid. Because I’m injured, it makes more sense for you to go. They’ll need you to protect them.”

Lan Wangji glanced around. Though no one was looking at them, he knew they had the juniors’ attention. He also knew that they would not be given much longer in reprieve. The explosions of the butterflies had caught their attackers off guard and killed or severely injured perhaps five or six of them, but even so, there had to be at least thirty still out in the trees.

“They’re trying to kill you,” Lan Wangji said. “They’ll take me alive.”

“If you let them,” Wei Wuxian said with his eyes narrowed.

Lan Wangji hesitated. It was against his nature to consider surrender, as Wei Wuxian well knew, but Wei Wuxian would not leave if he believed that Lan Wangji would fight to his death, and Lan Wangji would not leave Wei Wuxian to fight an army that meant to kill him. He thought of A-Yuan, and how he had clutched at Lan Xichen’s robes and sobbed that afternoon as they’d left.

“I will allow it,” Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Uncaring of witnesses, he took Lan Wangji’s face between his blood-sticky hands and kissed him. The touch of his lips was sweet and familiar, and Lan Wangji leaned into him, hands gentle on Wei Wuxian’s hips. He used the moments while Wei Wuxian was distracted to funnel spiritual energy into him.

Pulling back, Wei Wuxian glared at him.

“You’ll need it,” Lan Wangji said.

Sighing, Wei Wuxian used his grip on Lan Wangji’s face to tilt his head down. He kissed the emblem of Lan Wangji’s ribbon, and then bowed his head so Lan Wangji could do the same for the black ribbon sitting at its usual slightly crooked angle on Wei Wuxian’s forehead. Lan Wangji reached up automatically to straighten it, a familiar action that made Wei Wuxian smile.

“I’ll find you,” Wei Wuxian said, and then thumped their foreheads together again. “You know I’ll teach A-Yuan all the worst habits if you make me raise him alone. I’ll be a terrible single parent. I’ll let him stay up until midnight every night, and feed him candy every day, I swear I will.”

Wei Wuxian waited for Lan Wangji to nod, and then took out a blank sheet of talisman paper and dug a finger under the bandage Lan Wangji had wound around his torso, skewing the wraps as he did so. With a fresh coating of blood, he drew out a seal, and then whispered across it, “The birds are perching somewhere in the mist.”

The seal lit up in a burst of ember light, and then faded. Lan Wangji frowned at the bandage, now somewhat loose, but pulled the collars of his robes aside. They both ignored the scandalized gasps of the juniors, and Wei Wuxian pressed the talisman to Lan Wangji’s chest. He leaned forward to place a kiss on the back of the paper, and then shifted over to set another on Lan Wangji’s collarbone. Lan Wangji shivered, as much for the gentle press of lips as at the smoke-cool sensation of the talisman binding to his skin. He pulled his robes back together over it.

“Set the butterflies out to cover your flight,” Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian nodded. Lan Wangji unsheathed Bichen and held her point-down as he passed between the two juniors studiously not paying attention to Lan Wangji and his husband as they said their farewells.

Lan Wangji had barely stepped through the opening in the rocks when a gust of warm air rushed past him fast enough to stir his hair and pull the back of his robes tight against his body. Lan Wangji closed his eyes. Even through his eyelids, the burst of light was stunning. Thousands of campfire sparks exploded in the air, and there was a great cry of surprise and curses of pain.

Lan Wangji released Bichen, tracing the loudest of the complaints and summoning his guqin in the same breath. If he hadn’t been listening for it, he wouldn’t have heard the whispering rush of the juniors taking to their swords and rising quickly into the air. They would be shielded for a few moments by both the blinding dazzle of the exploding butterflies and the resulting burst of smoke. If they were lucky and no other cultivators had waited further back, the cover would be enough to see them safely out of sight by the time the afterglow faded.

He heard no renewed exclamations of shock. A positive sign. Unfortunately, the rest of his opponents had fallen silent, and he was forced to call Bichen back as he sent a wave of spiritual energy blindly into the trees. Several meaty thumps resulted, but Lan Wangji had no opportunity to press the advantage as a sword sailed out of the trees to his left, and he was immediately forced on the defensive.

#wangxian #nielan #mdzs #cql #untamed #warlord mingjue #captive bride xichen #kind of

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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FEATURE: Looking for a New Show? Check out Hime's Helpful Recommendations!

If you’re reading this now, then chances are you’ve checked out anime sensations that is Jujutsu Kaisen or The Promised Neverland. But what is there to do when you’re stuck between episodes and waiting a whole week for the next exciting installment? Or worse ... what do you do when you've finished your binge? Luckily, there are plenty of anime in Crunchyroll’s catalog for you to check out!

When it comes to scary demons, dark magic, and captivating stories, there’s no shortage of shows that can satisfy your cravings. From your genre-defying battle shows, popular fantasy worlds, or quirky titles with crazy fights, you're sure to find something from this list that will quickly become your next favorite binge:

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Fantasy world anime are all the rage these days, and one of the most popular right now comes in the form of an adorable amorphous blob slowly building up their own nation in That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime.

As 37-year-old Satoru Mikami suddenly began to take a spiritual transition from one life to the next, they unwittingly made requests that resulted in their reincarnation as a lowly slime in an RPG-like high-fantasy world. In this new life, they gain new abilities and use their apparent charisma to acquire powerful allies and develop their own nation that unites all species under his guidance.

As far as fantasy world shows go, this rags-to-riches story has a little something for everyone. There are few things as inspiring and necessary in our world as seeing an insignificant slime creature rise up the ranks and unite everybody. Packed with compelling world-building, exciting fights, and a spoonful of emotion, Slime scratches plenty of itches, and the ongoing second season will definitely leave you begging for more.

Demon Slayer

There are plenty of great anime centered around fighting denizens in the dark, but Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba certainly stands out among them all.

Tanjiro Kamado’s tough but rewarding mountain life was suddenly disrupted when his entire family was mauled by a demon, with his little sister on the verge of becoming one herself. But after showing his potential as a fighter and vowing to protect his sister who still clings tenuously to her humanity, he is recruited to undergo demon slayer training in order to harness his latent abilities and find a way to return his sister to normal.

Ufotable, Inc. is an anime studio renowned for its unparalleled animation, and Demon Slayer is the perfect example of the team’s skill. The show is renowned for its seamless integration of digital effects to generate flowing animation and has previously topped our list as one of the best anime of the 2010s. Since its premiere, Demon Slayer has raked in several Newtype anime awards, and its first opening — “Gurenge” by LiSA — topped Oricon’s digital charts for weeks. With all these accolades under its belt, Demon Slayer is most certainly well worth checking out.

Mob Psycho 100

If stylish animation and gorgeous fight scenes are up your alley, look no further than the psychedelic psychic battles of Mob Psycho 100.

Shigeo “Mob” Kageyama is an abnormal boy trying to live a normal life, despite his unique telekinetic abilities leading him to crazy situations. Under the misguided tutelage of con artist psychic Arataka Reigen, Mob takes on several malevolent spirits while trying to navigate his turbulent adolescence. Through his adventures, he slowly but surely develops his understanding of human emotion, especially when they gradually build up to various explosions of psychic energy.

Mob Psycho is packed with stellar action and hilarious gags, but still finds room to offer a refreshingly heartwarming story about trying to be your own self. With two seasons' worth of episodes, this is a great option for fans of people throwing telekinesis at each other.

Overlord

The only thing more interesting than a fantasy world show is a fantasy world show with a villain as the main protagonist. Enter Overlord.

The massively successful, highly interactive MMO, YGGDRASIL, is about to have its servers shut down after 12 years. Momonga, the skeletal leader of the strongest guild of the game, makes it a point to stay on until the final minutes of service. When the countdown runs out, Momonga’s player finds himself inhabiting the world as his character and still commanding his guild, Ainz Ooal Gown. Taking on the name of his guild, Ainz Ooal Gown begins to expand his rule with an iron fist while trying to find any other players who may also be trapped in the game with him.

Overlord is unafraid to make its protagonist undergo some dark transformations. Despite Ainz’s intentions to create a stir in this new world and unite all species under his rule, he becomes gradually less hesitant to use his immense power to achieve his goals by any means necessary. With its dark overtones and unique protagonist, Overlord truly makes a name for itself among the genre.

Hunter x Hunter

Love the action genre but wish the formula could be tweaked a little bit? The infamous Hunter x Hunter may just have what you’re looking for.

Gon Freecs is a young boy who sets out to become a professional Hunter while searching for his missing father. Along the way, Gon learns how vast and diverse the world is as he meets new companions, fights terrifying monsters, and becomes stronger at every turn. There’s no telling what new adventure or threat awaits Gon and his friends as the world of Hunters opens up wide to them.

Subversion is the name of the game when it comes to this popular and influential series. While there’s plenty of intense action to be had, Hunter x Hunter isn’t afraid to go deep into mafia politics, race relations, and even gender identity. At almost every opportunity, Hunter takes the usual tropes and turns them upside down to tell a story that’s all too raw, emotional, and impossible to look away from.

Garo: Vanishing Line

Jujutsu Kaisen director Sung Hoo Park has plenty of notable works under his belt, including directing The God of High School. But you might be surprised to know that JJK isn’t his first foray into demon-slaying action. He also directed Garo: Vanishing Line.

While searching for her missing older brother, Sophie is led to the metropolis of Russell City where monsters known as Horrors prey on humans in the night. Luckily, she comes under the protection of Sword; as Garo, the strongest Makai Knight, Sword and his crew are tasked with defending the city and eradicating Horrors.

As part of a popular tokusatsu (live-action with heavy special effects) franchise, Garo is known for its modern gothic aesthetic and compelling action. Vanishing Line continues that tradition in spectacular fashion with intense fights and an exhilarating soundtrack, not to mention an intense first opening by Jam Project of One Punch Man fame. From start to finish Vanishing Line never takes its foot off the pedal and is sure to keep you pumped all throughout its high-octane 24-episode ride.

The Rising of the Shield Hero

Fantasy world shows often put their protagonists up on a pedestal, but the eponymous Shield Hero is practically dropped into adversity from the get-go.

Naofumi Iwatani is one of four different high schoolers plucked from their dimensions into a fantasy world in peril. As each of them is armed with different weapons to combat the impending threat, Naofumi draws the short stick by becoming the Shield Hero, who is traditionally marginalized and maligned by their peers. To make matters worse, he is accused of debauchery amongst royalty and shunned by the entire kingdom he was summoned to protect. Broken and disillusioned by this strange new world, the Shield Hero must now climb his way to redemption alongside other unfortunate souls neglected by society.

A Cinderella story in every sense of the word, The Rising of the Shield Hero draws its appeal from its protagonist having to overcome the odds and fight back against the forces that oppose him. While it can be hard to sit through when it comes to raw emotion and some questionable content, this anime has plenty of inspiring moments as marginalized folks work their hardest to become heroes of their own repute.

Attack on Titan

Chances are you’ve at least heard of the anime sensation that is Attack on Titan, and with the show approaching its end, there’s no better time to see what all the hype is about.

Humanity has spent thousands of years walled off from the outside world in order to keep Titans away lest they feast on humans. Eren Jaegar has long wondered what the world beyond the walls was like, but he gets a rude awakening when Titans break down the walls and begin a violent invasion. Vowing revenge on them, Eren joins the Survey Corps and swears to do everything he can to eliminate every Titan in existence.

This popular anime is known for its unparalleled animation and mysterious story that takes several unexpected turns. As long as you can stomach the violence and sit through some terrifying visuals, there’s something for everyone in Attack on Titan from heart-warming relationships to intrigue and high-stakes drama. As the show comes to a close with its final season, there’s no better time than now to jump onto the giant-slaying phenomenon.

Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World-

Nothing messes around with the rules of the fantasy world genre quite like Re:ZERO: Starting Life in Another World.

In typical fantasy world fashion, gamer shut-in Subaru Natsuki is summoned into a medieval fantasy world rife with magic and monsters at every turn. For all intents and purposes, he now lives in a game world, especially whenever he dies and comes back to life sometime before his death like a checkpoint revival. With his newfound power, Subaru attempts to survive in this strange new world and help out his growing band of companions, especially when it comes to Emilia, a young elf who’s in the running to become queen of the Kingdom of Lugunica.

Re:ZERO is rife with powerful drama as Subaru uses grim knowledge of his past lives in order to do good. This darkly compelling fantasy has been praised for its complex world and nuanced characters, and has even accrued many Newtype anime awards in 2016, including best director and best protagonists. If you like the idea of traversing murky corners and tough moral choices, then Re:ZERO might just be your next big obsession.

Which of these shows do you think you'll check out? Comment below and tell us!

Carlos (aka Callie) is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. Their favorite genres range from magical girls to over-the-top robot action, yet their favorite characters are always the obscure ones. Check out some of their pop culture editorials on Popdust as well as their satirical work on The Hard Times.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Carlos Cadorniga

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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aki-draws-things · 4 years ago

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NaNoWriMo 2020 #15

I took the Day from the summary list cause Day are now all mixed up and I’m too tired to write a full fic, no matter how short, in a day. But I’m still hitting the count so I’m winning!

This part is set, accidentally, in the “Raised to a golden light” au, which means heavenly powered Nie Mingjue and more research for me. <3 But it also has my baby LiangFeng so...

(Please love them! The’re baby!!!)

Prompt: Extreme Weather

Ship: Mingjue/Zonghui (do i really need to specify again.. ?)

Word Count: 2743

“We’ll be back before nightfall.” Nie MingJue said before tying a small pendant on ZongHui's belt, the crest of the Nie Sect engraved in the polished metal. Nie MingJue did it personally when he became Sect Leader, he chose the metal, he melted it and engraved with a knife in the shape of their symbol, his fingers had been covered in burns for a month but it was a tradition every sect leader followed. The engraved pendant would be one day buried with them instead of their saber. Sometimes the leader would make two of them, one to keep on himself and one to give to their general when he couldn’t command his men directly, other times they would make one and then split it in two perfectly equal halves. Or they would do like the current Sect Leader. Make a single pendant and personally give it to the Nie General when it was time.

Except many would simply give it in their hand, not making the whole affair a proper ceremony. But Nie MingJue had his own habits he took from his mother, and the Qinghe pendant had one of the greatest values for him. He purified it before leaving the walls of his personal chamber, holding it on his open palms when presenting it and then between his thumbs, hanging from the green and gold tassel, when bowing to his general. Then he tied it at his belt and kissed him. Well, that was because said General also happened to be his betrothed and Nie MingJue never left the Unclean Realm on his own or with other disciples without doing so.

“Why, Da-ge? It’s awkward for everyone to watch you being so affectionate in public.” Huaisang siad, in truth it wasn’t awkward, and both him and the rest of the disciples loved these little moments when their sect leader wasn't the tough scary man everyone saw.

“You never know if you will return. - Nie MingJue answered and Huaisang was ready to complain even louder at that. - I want that to be our last contact in case something happens.”

“What’s supposed to happen? It’s a purification, no more, no less. You said so!”

“I know… But you never know. Anything could go wrong, I just —”

Huaisang touched his arm as they walked toward the village, feet sinking in the soft snow that covered their path and kept falling as they walked.

“It’s not a war, Da-ge.” “It’s not the Sunshot Campaign.” He wanted to say. “You won that one already and you returned home to him. To me. To both of us.” Because Nie Huaisang knew when he started doing it the first time, after he left his tent in secret during the war against Wen RuoHan and almost got killed. When the last touch he had with zonghui had just been a caress over the hair after undoing the braids. He had been naive, thinking he couldn't fail his mission, and he regretted ever touch he didn't give him or to his brother in the moment consciousness was fading on the bloodied floor. He swore he would make every moment matter after that and both huaisang and zonghui knew that.

"I know, I know."

The village wasn't distant but the path was made hard by the snow, they had to be careful not to slip and not to put their feet in the wrong place, risking to fall just because the path seemed safe.

It had been a strange year, nie mingjue considered, summer had been one of the warmest he could remember, even the mountains around the unclean realm, that usually granted them some shadow and coolness did little to stop the heat, in nearby villages there had been fires and some farmer villages had been destroyed, the people barely saved and redirected in other places or directly inside the unclean realm for those closer.

Just as mingjue thought the worst would soon be over, winter arrived.

Of course it was no surprise, to anyone, how hard winter hit them. Winters were always hard in Qinghe. Just as the mountains usually shielded them from the heat they were also relentless during cold months, bringing inside the streets more cold wind instead of blocking it out. Qinghe's winter was ruthless even for those used to live there. - huaisang knew stories zonghui told him, of the days before his birth when mingjue was still a baby. Many times he had fallen sick to the point their father either called Master Lan Qiren in the unclean realm or he flew as fast as he could to gusu with then only heir wrapped in blankets against his chest. He used to get sick so often and so badly the elders even pressured their leader to try to have another son soon, just in case. Huaisang always looked surprise, then he would turn to look at his brother, shivering under a heavy robe and a blanket draped around his shoulders and reading some reports. Huaisang never saw him sick, not that badly as zonghui told him, but he could definitely see his low tolerance for coldness. -

Snow was nothing new either, it started falling at the first colds and sometimes it kept going for days to no end until every path disappeared and ice demons howled in the night.

It was the third day of snow when they set off for a purification and by the time they reached the village the snow had turned into a storm.

"maybe we should have waited…" huaisang said as they moved deeper into the palace, brushing the snow from his hair.

"they waited long enough already. Huaisang, we can't just ignore a purification request because of a little snow."

The wind howled outside and rattled the windows as they passed.

"that's not a little snow, Da-ge. It's a storm, and we'll get stuck there." he said again and mingjue knew he was right and, even worse, the other disciples agreed with him too. Well, it was too late now, beside, he would have never refused a request.

"sect leader." the master of the house greeted them bowing deeply. "I apologize for calling during such a weather but…" he hesitated looking around.

"No need to apologize." he waved a hand at him and turned to his brother and the Nie disciples.

"it won't take long and as soon as I'm done we'll head back. - nie huaisang shot him a doubtful look. - check the perimeter and make sure no one is going to interfere. Huaisang… You come with me." he decided in the end. He wasn't new to purification but seeing it unfold was different than just being taught about, and it was time for him to start. Just in case.

Some people confused exorcisms with purification, convinced they were the same thing. It wasn't and nie mingjue took great pride in performing the latter all the time he could. Heritage he said, from his mother, not that he explained what that really meant, he simply acknowledged that she could perform purifications on creature and spirits tainted by yin energy and she taught him how to. - little the rest of the sects knew how he tried it on the Nightless city the night before going to kill wen ruohan, in a last attempt to avoid the inevitable. He failed because the yin iron's power was too much and it almost attacked him directly. They didn't need to know he held a last glimpse of hope to have his father's sworn brothers back together. Not even lan qiren needed to know. -

"Da-ge, are you sure I should…"

"yes, stop asking." he followed the owner on the back of the house, there a room had been sealed with several talismans who were rattling under the pounds of the creature inside.

"so, you were saying that your son's dog started showing an aggressive behavior…"

"after the last hunt, five days ago, yes. We were hunting deers and when we got back he tried to bite his master. After that it was only getting worse until even I could feel the energy it carried around and… Well, and then I requested your presence, sect leader. "

He was fidgeting with his sleeve, suddenly anxious and awkward, now it seemed such a stupid request to make. Calling chifeng-zun over a rabid dog.. How silly how stupid useless, sect leader Nie surely had better things to do. Still he showed up, still he agreed to help. He would forever hold a debt for that.

"nonsense. It would be stupid not to grant you my help. You live under the Qinghe Nie domain, I'm the one holding a duty in your regard."

the man blushed realizing he spoke aloud and immediately bowed at him.

“It won’t take too long, but I would feel better if you went to wait back inside.”

“Will it be… dangerous?” The man asked worried.

“No, it will just be warmer.”

He waited for the man to disappear inside before tearing away the talismans.

“I will be useless here, Da-ge… why did you asked—”

“You said you wanted to see.”

For having been just a simple dog, with a low spiritual recognition, the spirit latching on it seemed to like it enough. It wasn’t exactly dangerous, he had to admit, despite the resentful energy covering it, it looked more like a lost spirit than an angry one.

Better, he thought, less risky.

“I do, Da-ge but… I also want to help.” He pouted.

“Help then. Here, hold this bell.”

“A… Bell.” He sarcastically repeated holding the little golden bell in front of his face and waving it slightly. “What a great help it is.”

“Purification is walking in the midst of Yin chaos with the purpose of maintain intact everything that is there. - He walked slowly inside and after a couple of seconds Huaisang followed stopping on the door. - You dint destroy the spirit, you don’t break it’s essence and get rid of it like its a bag of waste. You cleanse it until all the Yin energy is concentrated on the palm of your hand.”

There were waves of gold in the room around them as Nie MingJue spoke, not the first time Huaisang saw them of course, but never moving so quietly, wrapping around energy, incorporating it.

“And what does the bell do?” Huaisang asked softly, not wanting to disturb the magic his brother was creating and still almost desperate to know more. He tried to make research the first times but nothing in the library in the Unclean Realm and in Gusu was eloquent enough on golden magic. Not the kind that he saw on MingJue. - He was too young to remember MingJue's mother, the way her eyes shone gold and her hands created thousands of little light butterflies. If he did he would have noticed the similarities. -

“It keeps the mind clear. The bell is my shield against the Yin energy, without a pure shield the energy will look for another body to take control of and it would be mine.” Huaisang nodded and waved the bell again, it’s clinking sound clear in the air around them.

“What about the energy now?” He asked again eying the dark, floating ball on Nie MingJue's palm. “Are you going to exorcise it or something?”

He could, of course. The Yin energy was much less than what it seemed at the beginning, the spirit being really lost and not angry, craving the warmth of a loving family but unable to make them understand its needs. It would simply disappear in the snowstorm.

“Not sure. I was thinking of releasing.”

“Won’t it be dangerous? It could… do it again. Latch on something, on someone. Cause trouble.”

“Don’t be too soft with spirits, Young Master Nie.” LiángFēng said looking over Nie MingJue holding a small soul in both hands.

“But it’s small and scared. It deserves a second chance, it's not its fault it got lost to begin with."

"still it's what remains of the yin energy you cleansed. You must be careful, some spirits are malicious, they will trick you thinking they're now harmless only to lash out later." the little ball of energy trembled in his cupped hands and he closed them a little, like to hide it, liángfēng smiled at the gesture. He acted old and strong in the mortal realm, for the sake of the sect he was leading and not to be considered any less than the other leaders, but he was young in truth, and in their eyes, in the heavenly palace where they trained him, it showed.

"then I'll put it in a cleansing bell and release it with every clink, slowly. It's not our place to decide."

"pass me the bell, huaisang." he said holding out his free hand. The spirit was small and harmless enough to slip inside the cleansing bell and stretch in it comfortably. "there, let's go now."

"why the bell?"

"I told you, it keep the mind clear. And it can release the spirit slowly after cleansing it. It would take… - he hesitated and held the bell in front of him, studying it carefully. - probably a couple of years for this one."

Huaisang nodded following him inside to join the family of the house and the rest of the disciples.

"will you teach me to do it? One day, not now…"

"perhaps…"

"Da-ge!"

"there, it's done." he passed the bell to the confused head of the family. "once the storm stops place it in the shrine."

The man bowed deeply taking the small bell in both hands.

"I will, I will. Please, now.. Let me offer you our hospitality, it's not safe to travel through the woods in such storm."

Nie mingjue looked outside, the snowstorm getting worse every passing minute, if he had been alone he would try to cross it, but he wasn't. His brother was there, and some of the disciples, it wasn't worth the risk.

"No need to trouble yourself, we can find shelter in the vill--"

"nonsense, sect leader! - the man exclaimed. - I'm the one troubling you with a spirit, least I can do is offer shelter now!"

The house was small and old. Save for the room outside where the purification happened it had barely three rooms. They huddled in the smaller and warmer one by a fire, cold and wind seeping through the closed doors and windows, threatening several times to put it off.

"is it always that bad?" nie mingjue asked after placing his outer robe on Huaisang and refused for the second time a bowl of soup from the daughter of the man. It wasn't polite to refuse, he knew, and he didn't want to bring any disrespect toward them, but…

"there isn't much soup left and you're expecting a child. Save it for yourself, please." he told her at the third time.

"winters are always hard, and the house is very old, but we're used to it."

They shouldn't. He thought moving to sit next to his brother, safely asleep under his robe and some spare blankets, he shivered and scooted a little closer to the fire. He made a mental note to check on the other villages before the winter was over. Check on the smaller one who could suffer the most. It was his duty, as a leader. He had to keep his people safe, and that didn't stop at demons and angry spirits.

When morning came the storm quieted down enough for them to travel, he wasn't shivering as much as during the night, he fell asleep at some point and it didn't seem to be too cold anymore when he woke up. He should have known better.

"Da-ge." huaisang called as he stumbled in the snow a moment before catching himself. "your hair…"

At his confused expression huaisang moved closer and took a strand of hair on the left side of his head and brought it in front of him.

"they turned white..."

Oh...so it started. He thought looking at the strand and smiling at his little brother.

"with all the scares you give me its a wonder they started graying so late."

"that's not gray, Da-ge. White. Pure white like snow."

"don't make your Da-ge worry so much, huaisang, or he'll look like an old man soon."

He joked crossing the walls of the unclean realm.

#Nie mingjue #nie huaisang #mingjue/zonghui #Raised to a golden light #heavenly powers #purification ritual #extreme weather #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs fic #Grandmaster of demonic cultivation #founder of diabolism #fanfic #nanowrimo 2020 #angst collection in cultivation #aki writes

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raezenreiki · 4 years ago

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Welcome to my multidimensional world.

Hello! I am so thankful to be able to share my story with you. Growing up, I knew intuitively that I was unique – and what I mean by that, as of course we are all unique, was that I didn’t fit into the status quo. I came into this life with fears, loves, and a feeling that this body was holding something extremely powerful inside.

I specifically remember being a young girl playing with toys in my bedroom. I had a multidimensional moment, which at the time I had not an understanding of what that meant. During this moment, my mind spoke to me and said “I know this life is strange, but you must keep going. I know that playing with these toys is not what you are used to, but you must keep going in this body. You are in an earthly body. You have an earthly family. You must keep going.” – Now I will admit I am paraphrasing as this feeling did not truly come to me in the English language, it was more a sensing of my mind and a “Knowing”. I have never forgotten that moment.

Throughout my twenty-six years on this earth and journeys around the sun I see-sawed between what I thought I was supposed to be and who I was. Looking back now and what my family and I did not know at the time was that; my heart was activated one thousand times more than your average eleven-year-old. How could I explain this to my loved ones around me as I didn’t know that their hearts were activated at a “statistically normal” level. My empathy seemed to be my weakness. My first heart break at eleven years old led me down a spiraling depression that I dug deeper and deeper until I was already six feet under, under water, swimming with whales and manatees in my mind, holding my breath.

I was looking up at these whales and manatees above me, a representation of the heaviness of the depression and anxiety weighing on me, and I could not find a hole or gap in between the swarm of them to swim to the top. I could hear my loved ones yelling, “You can do it! Don’t be weak!” They wanted me with their entire being to find a sweet spot, gather all the air left in my lungs, and make it to the shore.

I instead learned how to breathe under water, the universe gifted me temporary gills and I swam beneath the shallow waters, into a deep blue abyss. During my time in this abyss, I felt nothing for a while. I would spend my days wandering; hiding from beasts if need be and learning to live in the darkness. I began to enjoy the dive. The darkness held a special comfort for me. My friends and family began to fade away, they were still at the shore waiting for me, Some distant friends finally went home to themselves but my family never left that shore, waiting for me to surface.

Of course, sharing my story, I am currently sitting in a comfortable couch on earth writing on my laptop- so I must have made it back, which of course you must be assuming. But how?

I found myself swimming in the darkest depths of the water, lowest oxygen and nearing death. Suddenly, another creature had appeared. After some discovery, we realized we were both having the same experience of deep pain, that we had found comfort in the darkness and I fell deeply in love – in fact convinced that we were two pieces of one soul.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), I was deceived. We were separate. His pain was different than mine. See I was born in this life with a set of lessons to learn that were my very own; and at the time; thinking we shared one soul; I didn’t understand how his pain could run in different patterns that mine. Although I gave him every ounce of love I held in my heart, he shoved me into a deep dwelling cave and pushed a heavy rock over the door. This was his denial that my love could possibly be real. He had deceived himself; as I was genuine. I thought, “this is the end, I will die here. This life is full of pain, atleast it is almost over.”

This cave was so dark and full of beasts whispering into my ears. Their whispers told me “You don’t deserve life, you are unworthy of happiness, you are nothing. The world would be better without you. You are a liar. You are a fake.”

And at that moment in time, right before my death, my beloved mother scuba dove down into the deepest waters, sensing her blood line and following her intuition. She brought an army of angels with her and they were emitting the brightest light you could imagine. Twelve billion suns of light that lit up the entire ocean for miles.

The angels, with my mother leading them, rolled open the rock, and carried my depleted, empty body back up to shore. My mind was still intact; my soul was still holding on. I knew my soul was powerful from childhood; but it was this moment that began my awakening; my evolving, my ascension. I could not have made it here without my earthly mother. Little did I know the entire time I was wandering the abyss she was gathering the tools necessary to pull me out from it. That she battled her way through the darkness and brought the light to me. She held my body-mind and healed many of my wounds with her own selfless love.

When I got back to land it took time for my acclamation. I had been broken for so long – but during my rescue the light of twelve billion suns entered my heart. Nothing could ever be the same. I found the light in my mind. I discovered the true ability of my power.

I have since learned that the healer is not always healed, that we are all on this journey together around the sun; ALL of us as one mind. I have since learned that there is no one you look in the eyes that is not deserving of love. I have since learned that forgiveness takes time, but it is not impossible. I have since learned that I am not here to judge you no matter what acts you perform or what type of life you choose. I have since learned it is my goal to align my current earthly mind with my highest self that will guide me through this life in the most beneficial way possible for the micro and the macro. I have since learned I have spiritual abilities that have and are continuously being activated. I have since learned that I have a soul family and soul guides that resonate on a frequency I always have access to if need be. I have since learned that we are never alone; we are always surrounded by guides. That Jesus Christ Consciousness is available to activate your heart whenever you are ready. That there are light workers, energy workers, mystics, psychics, and healers who walk the earth in order to assist others out of the abyss. I like the phrase “If I made it to the light, so can you.” And you cannot ever deny the light in this physical world. When you go outside, and the sun is shining you see it in its physical form. You are made of that – the science is there if you need it – but you can Know it inside the stillest part of your mind; the fulcrum of which your energy rests upon.

This is what led me to energy work. I began a yoga practice, and a meditation practice, and a spiritual practice. I have been to church, I have done the religious thing, and I have gotten good and bad out of that. What works for me is to follow what I hear in my heart. I don’t need a physical building – I have an entire community of people in real life and spirit guides who are “my people” (in theory because some of them are pure energy and I don’t need to envision them in creature form) ; I have everything I need right inside my own mind. I have found that at times for split moments I am one with God. I have rested in His hands. I have felt the cold rush of angels entering my energetic field. I have felt the incredible life force energy running from my crown above my head down through every cell, atom, electron, proton, and neutron of my body; filling it up with a love that detoxes out anything negative that needs to be released.

Energy work performs natural miracles from the power of God that when we desire and ask and set the correct intention – we are given. Sit with that for a moment.

If I can do this, anyone can. I have been to the darkest hole, and I have risen to the highest mountain. The pinnacle. I am now standing on that mountain ready to accept the life that is calling out to me.

Energy workers, light beings, reiki practitioners, mystics, and psychics all have a story. I believe they run deep – thousands of years – and in each life they may find their way back home to themselves. I have, and I am grateful beyond belief to God that I have found my way home; and I am working towards a state where there is more than a split second of being in His Oneness, His omnipotence; omnipresence; and omniscience surrounds us all.

Welcome. I am Cristina Rae, and I am blessed to share who I am. This is just the very beginning. I love you all – I am imagining how beautiful you all are, on the inside and on the outside, and how our connection; if You have read this far; may be divine timing for a beautiful and magical outcome. I cannot wait to share more with you. If you’d like to contact me for now the best way is

[email protected]

. Website is under construction – or at Raezenreiki on Instagram.I love you all , you beautiful beings.

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zealoptics · 4 years ago

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Dropping In:

Presented by Ean Wood

A new series showcasing how outward adventures draw us inward. Follow along as Zeal ambassador Ean Wood connects with fellow ambassadors to hear perspectives on how outdoor passions connect them deeply with themself. Focusing on mental resilience, emotional awareness, present moment connection, and a plethora of practices that support these athletes in facing the extreme elements. ‘Dropping In’ is for those that learn more about themself through being outside.

Several years ago I reached out to Zeal Optics with the hopes of becoming an ambassador. While snowboarding, I wanted to create less impact on the environment and Zeal was on the leading edge of eco-consciousness. I had just experienced a huge awakening in my life bringing attention to my daily decisions and the repercussions they have on the world around me. An annual trip to Chile for the Southern Hemisphere winter season led me to meet a human that would change my life forever. His name is Tamo Campos. Tamo is a fellow Zeal ambassador, inspiration, and dear friend of mine. Getting to know him many years ago inspired me to change and grow in so many areas of my life. A chain reaction happened from the information I was absorbing. I switched up all my sponsors for snowboarding, I made the deliberate choice to stop flying around the world to chase snow, and I invested in converting my truck to run on waste vegetable oil. He opened my eyes to the many ways that I was disrupting the symbiosis with this living planet. After awareness blossomed in me I couldn’t help but see potential impact happening everywhere in the world around me.

My connection to nature was strengthening. Every day in the mountains became a ceremony of life. Bringing awareness to every breath as an exchange with the plants and trees, feeling the sun rays warming my skin, and embracing the snow under my feet in a way I had not yet opened to. I no longer wanted to degrade this world I cared so much for.

I became obsessed. I went deep into rabbit holes of knowledge. Learning about waste, fossil fuels, manufacturing, pollution, soil degradation, and many other subjects. I followed Tamo for some time supporting him in his environmental activism. For me becoming aware of the destruction of the natural world was a painful transition. It's heartbreaking to live in a society that places sustainability at the bottom of the scale of importance. I got depressed. I was angry. I lingered in pain over how much guilt I felt. I was feeling the agony of everyday patterns such as pumping fuel in my car and throwing away trash.

My life was ridiculously gifted. I had sponsors, I was getting paid to enjoy my greatest passion, and all the while spending time with amazing people. I was living the life of my dreams.

But the truth was that I was suffering inside. . .

I can’t remember what cued my epiphany. . . It was almost as if it came from nowhere. A thought bubble from infinite space and possibility burst in my brain.

How could I expect people to care about the natural world around them?

They hardly cared about themselves. Consuming toxic chemicals, negative energy, drama, dysfunction, fear, and a plethora of degrading substances. Most of us were not raised in a society that taught us about personal care. At most, some of us received teachings of physical care, maybe a little on nutrition, but mental, emotional, and spiritual care barely get a whisper. Our attention has been drawn out of ourselves. Doing, achieving, acquiring, owning, and external appearance has been the general focus.

A very wobbly foundation to live and create from.

It became clear I was going about it all wrong. I was focused on a topic that was a bi-product, developed from a lack of leadership and wisdom.

Our inner worlds are full of turmoil and dis ease. Too much doing, not enough being. Without awareness, our perspectives are merely reactions accumulated from our life experiences. What is going on inside of us dictates how we feel about what happens around us. Mental health and emotional intelligence is something that affects every moment of every day. Humans commonly overeat, over-consume, medicate, and numb, in an attempt to feel better. As a species so much of our environmental impact comes from our attempts to feel happy and fulfilled. In our current society our ability to be present for life, to respond instead of reacting, to feel gratitude instead of scarcity, rests in the habits created from our upbringing.

Not many of us had perfect parents, exemplary teachers, or wise mentors. So as a community we can come together and share this knowledge built from experience. We are not setting ourselves up for success currently.

If we want to address the environmental issues we have to dig up the roots. Chopping off the tops of weeds will only result in them growing back later.

DROPPING IN is a new series focused on personal growth as a way to make an impact in the world. Zeal will be teaming up with ambassadors to share a variety of perspectives and life experiences.

Taking our attention inward. Diving into self-awareness.

Thoughts. Emotions. Breath. Presence. Needs. Love. Care. Balance. Mindfulness.

What is going on outside of us is a reflection of our inner turmoil. The natural world, the animals, the plants, the swimming creatures, and the birds in the sky all need us to get our act together. In this interconnected world, every little piece we improve in our own life ripples out to everyone we come in contact with.

I am so stoked to announce this journey to you. I also want to invite you to be a contributing force. Let us know what works well for you. Let us know the subjects you have questions on. Where you struggle. What you wish we would talk about. Comment, message us. I personally will be making sure to watch and listen to what is being said by the community.

This is a new journey and we need as many people involved as possible.

With the collective voices of so many, we can come together and increase transformation.

How you feel about your life, the perspectives of joy or misery, your awareness of the environmental impact, all rests on your inner development. No one else can do it for you, but we can walk this path together.

Just like any other adventure, let’s enjoy the journey and reach for those inner summits.

Get ready to DROP IN.

Tune into Zeal’s Instagram Thursday Jan 14th at 1PM MST for a live discussion with Ean Wood and DCP.

#mentalheathawareness #mentalhealthmatters #zealopticsfeatured #mentalhealth #exploremore #adventuretherapy #outdooradventure

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universally-the-same · 5 years ago

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Spirituality

Spirituality is something that I’ve been wanting to write a post on for so long, but I feel like it’s such a difficult topic to write about. Why? Because I believe that spirituality is all about an individual’s connection to a higher power. It is such an individualized experience, but to me that’s what makes it so much different than religion. Strip away the structure and rules and give me what’s left… the essence of goodness. Sprinkle in free thought, self-discovery and a magical journey that awaits those who seek it.

I was blessed enough to have a father that made it possible for me to attend parochial school. As such I was baptized and confirmed in the Catholic Church. I am grateful for my schooling on many levels, but there were a few teachings of Catholicism that I really couldn’t get behind. My inherent doubt in the strict teachings started at a very young age.

I was in Kindergarten or 1st grade, and we were in our religion class talking about the biblical book Genesis and how the earth was created in 7 days. I raised my hand, because I wanted to know how the dinosaurs fit into that. When were they around? How was it possible for them to be around for so many years when everything was created within a week? The teachers couldn’t answer me. Similar scenarios occurred throughout the years and eventually, I learned to stop asking the questions. But that didn’t subdue the curiosity.

While I have learned to look at the Bible as a collection of religious stories that hold very holy symbolism, there is a major hypocrisy in Catholicism that I can’t justify. Now let me go on record as saying that I am not anti-Catholic, or any other religion for that matter, I am simply sharing my thoughts and what my experiences have been to help readers better understand where some of my perspectives come from.

With that said, I will continue on. If you were to boil down the teachings of almost every religion out there… it comes down to the golden rule: Do unto other’s as you would have done unto you. In other words… be kind, be respectful. Treat people the way you want to be treated. It’s a very simple, easy concept that I am 100% behind. The problem major problem with Catholicism for me, comes from interpreting the 10 commandments. According to these stone tablets… other faith goers are destined to an eternity in Hell if they don't convert.

I remember raising my hand for that one too. If we have all these people around the world doing good and treating each other as brothers and sisters, how could God send them all to hell just because they were raised a different religion? It made no sense to me. And the only answer that I could ever get that held any consistency throughout the years was… to have Faith.

Now anyone who knows me, knows that I am a HUGE believer in Faith. I even try to maintain my faith in those who probably no longer deserve it. So for me, holding faith in something that didn’t feel right 100% right wasn’t the answer, and that was the beginning of my spiritual journey.

When I was younger and going through an abusive relationship with my mother, it was my friendship and trust in God that helped get me through that. Praying for strength and receiving it. Praying for a better mother, and being blessed with so many incredible role models -both real-life and celebrity. Finding peace in nature and feeling the effect of the elements before I even really knew what that meant. The more I found myself, the more my spirituality grew.

As a teenager in high school, I had a period where every night I would have at least one prophetic dream. My dreams became a daily discussion at the lunch table and the two-week streak ended on a Friday night. I was telling the table my latest dream about someone jumping off a cliff thinking they could fly and one of my friends paled and freaked out. She had made plans to drive to some mountain that night with a bunch of friends to get high. They never made the drive - and the dreams suddenly stopped.

I’ve had many spiritual guru’s – most of which are non-traditional. But I’ve pulled lessons from every single one. I’m at a point in my life where I consider myself a sort of Omnist. I refuse to associate myself with any one Religion, because I believe there is truth in them all.

I believe in many of the teachings of Eastern religions and philosophies -which is no surprise if you follow me here or on Facebook. I know in my heart that I am an old soul who has lived many lifetimes and that I carry those lessons and wisdom with me. I believe in the Eastern notion that God is nature, but I also talk to God as if I were made in His image as is taught in Christianity (or even Her image which is not taught in Christianity). I also believe in the evidence of evolution, the wonder of science, and the mystery and magic of the metaphysical and paranormal.

I am part witch, drawn to the moon. I have an affinity for water and the earth. I feel the power of nature in my heart and in my soul… it runs through my veins. After all, are we not made up of the same cells? The same energy? The same life source?

And speaking of energy… I was drawn to Reiki before I even knew what it was. Before the Internet was a resource for expanding the mind. I distinctly remember seeing the word Reiki when I was eighteen years old and my soul stood at attention. Twenty years later, in a strange turn of events, I was lead to become Reiki certified without even really knowing what it was. Once I had a date set up for my attunement and I started researching it, I was floored to discover that it is energy work. It naturally lent itself to my ongoing process of self-healing… mentally, spiritually and physically. Perhaps I was once a medicine man, or a Shaman, or another ancient healer?

The more that I read, and learn, and explore; I find that I am not alone. There are so many others out there who share similar perspectives and beliefs. There are many meme’s promoting the unsourced quote, “Your vibe attracts your tribe”. And I have been blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful people. They all have huge hearts, are incredibly supportive and encouraging. They are fun, loving, spirited. Some are strong and outgoing, while others are quiet and mysterious. But these wonderful people cheer me on. They encourage me to be me. And where I once may have been ashamed of my quirky ways, I now love and embrace them!

So, to all my friends and acquaintances out there who have asked me what I mean when I say that I don’t consider myself religious… I consider myself spiritual. Now you know. I believe in a God, a higher power, a source, the Universe. I believe in fate, destiny, signs from my angels and spirit guides. Stilling the mind and harnessing the energy from within. I believe in the power of our Earth and Mother Nature… she’s older then we are, you know. I believe in the underlying goodness found in all religions; to be kind and respectful. Because when you boil it all down and strip away the things that make us different… I mean truly take it all away... we are all creatures of biology; atoms being held together by energy.

*this blog post was originally posted on my StayWonderfull blog on 2/23/2018 when it was a personal blog, and moved to my Universally the Same blog.

#god #old soul #omnism #omnist #spirit #spirituality #the universe #what is god to you #who is god to you

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flyingthehedge · 6 years ago

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Working with the Land: 5 Ways to Practice Local Witchcraft

In witchcraft, there is no one book that contains all of our knowledge of the practice. Instead, we rely on dozens, if not hundreds, of books to learn our Craft and our place in it. We buy books on a range of witchy and occult topics, filling bookshelf after bookshelf with our collection in hopes that we can learn everything we can. I love reading books on witchcraft and the occult. I love to learn about other people's experiences and the knowledge they have accumulated through years of study and practice. Unfortunately, much of witchcraft is based on practices handed down by witches of European descent. Just about every single book on witchcraft rehashes the same old information, from the Celtic Wheel of the Year to the elements and cardinal directions. Almost all of these practices come from Europe, specifically England, Ireland, and Scotland, with some Norse thrown in there if they talk about runes. Sometimes you will see a bit of Hindu and Native American traditions thrown into the mix, but otherwise, it's largely English (unless you read specifically about a different tradition) There is nothing wrong with this; modern witchcraft and Wicca are based on English and Irish traditions, so it makes sense that most books pull from the same sources that began this resurgence of witchcraft around the world in the first place. However, the longer I have practiced, the more I have come to realize that "traditional" European witchcraft isn't always possible, especially for those that do not live in England!

What do you mean, "it isn't possible?" Every book on my shelf makes references to trees and herbs and even some wildlife that are mostly found in England or in northern North America. If you have been keeping up with me, you know I do not live in England, and I most certainly do not live up North, as much as I may want to. I am stuck in Georgia, a very southern state with hair-raisingly high humidity, melt-your-skin-off summers, and depressingly, rainy winters. I live in the northern part of Georgia, where we have mountains and forests, but just a little south of me the entire terrane changes. Needless to say, I don't have access to rowan or birch trees, hedgerows full of healing herbs and sweet fruits, fresh maple syrup, or even snow (although occasionally we are graced with its presence). Instead, I have pine trees and live oaks, poison ivy, Spanish moss, fire ants, and muscadines. Very different plants grow down here and a lot of those "witchy" plants books always talk about won't survive the summers here, so even if I wanted to grow them in my garden, they wouldn't make it. This is why learning to practice local witchcraft is so important, but where is a witch to begin?

Local witchcraft refers to working with the plants, animals, crystals, and spirits of the land where you live. Witchcraft, especially traditional witchcraft, which is historical, cultural, and folkloric in nature, is highly based on animism. Animism is the belief that all things, living and nonliving, have a spirit and thus vibrate with its own energy. This practice can easily be applied to any witch, no matter their location. Here are some ways you can introduce local witchcraft into your magical workings.

1. Get outside.

This is first and foremost the most important part of local witchcraft. Sit in a local park, go for a hike, or even sit in your front yard. Spend some time relaxing and observing the world around you. Take note of anything or everything you see. Attempt to feel the personality and atmosphere of the place. This in and of itself is a very magical experience. If you want to, write some of these observations down so you can research them later to see their significance or how you can use certain living and nonliving things from your local environment in your spell work. The notes you take while you are just observing will help you later and can get you started on new pages in your Grimoire or Book of Shadows!

2. Adjust your liturgy to your location.

Used a big word there! Liturgy is the form or formula you use during a religious or spiritual act. What I mean to say is, when you set up your altar, cast your circle, or create your magical associations for the elements, use the land around you to help. Many people rely on traditional references to create their altar or pentacle, but it doesn't make sense to place Water to the West if there is a large lake or ocean to your East. Use your locale to determine the placement of the elements. My personal associations are to have Earth associated with North because there are mountains just North of me; Water is East because a lake and the Atlantic Ocean are to my East; Fire is South because the equator is South where the temperatures are much hotter than here; and finally Air is West because the vast, windy plains are to my West. For those of you in the Southern hemisphere, you may wish to place Fire North, as the equator is North of you. If there is a mountain range directly to your East, put Earth East. Using the land to determine your placement of the elements will enhance your craft and make it more relatable to you. Rearranging my associations has completely changed my magic for the better.

3. Learn local folklore and visit local sacred spaces.

No matter where you are if you do enough digging and ask the right questions, you can find some amazing folktales. Hedgecraft is largely folkloric in nature, so using local legends and stories in your craft is important. The stories they tell in Britain about the dandelion are great, and you can definitely use those tales in your magical workings, especially if you are of English descent. I am, so I use it because I connect with it, but my family is has a tale of its own about dandelions from Arkansas, where my dad was born, and I like to use it too. Go down to your local library and see what you can find. Talk to locals who have lived in your area all their lives, especially elderly people. They may not even realize the stories they have passed down are magical folktales, but you will. Go and visit local historical sites, which are usually sacred. For example, I live close to the Kennesaw Mountain Battle Field, which was the location of a pretty large battle during the Civil War. In Atlanta, Macon, and Savannah there are three large, famous graveyards that hold some pretty powerful magic if I do say so myself. On the other side of the lake is a beautiful state park. These places have their own stories and items I can use in my practice. For example, I can pick up grave dirt in Savannah, with permission and an offering of course, or holy water from the Chattahoochee River in Helen that comes straight from the mountains. Find the sacred places in your area and see what they have to offer. Remember to offer a biodegradable offering and only take a little bit so you don't disturb the local ecosystem.

4. Identify seasonal changes and major natural forces of nature.

Some of the practices commonly mentioned in regards to celebrating the Celtic Wheel of the Year don't always make sense to me here in Georgia. In February, we don't have a bunch of snow and if it is a warmer year, plants started budding and coming up by now. It's not often a dormant time here in Georgia. By Mabon, most crops have been tilled, meaning its really not a harvesting time. Most of the traditional foods for Mabon are no longer in season. Some of the moon names also don't always fit either. June, for example, is the strawberry moon, but the peak for strawberries in Georgia is April. Strawberries are done by June! Spend time learning your local seasons and how you can adapt your changes to fit in with the Wheel of the Year. What changes do you see throughout the year? When do the flowers bloom? When are different fruits and vegetables harvested? Which insects are active

at which times? I eat summer squash and blackberries during Litha, instead of Lammas or Mabon. During Ostara, we may have strawberries. Don't just focus on the seasons though. Are there certain storms or wildfires that are common in your area? How can you use them in your craft?

5. Create a genius loci profile.

Genius loci means "spirit of place." As a hedgewitch, it is part of my job to learn about the local spirits, whether they are the spirits of the Otherworld or the spirits that reside in local plants, animals, crystals, and other nonliving objects. Its all well and good to order herbs and crystals offline or to buy them in a shop down the street or using images of animals in foreign countries in your spellwork. However, using local herbs, crystals, and animals often enhances your magic because the land, and therefore local spirits, are more familiar with those creatures. Learn about the species in your area, both plant and animal. Research endangered and invasive species. How can you preserve those endangered species? What can you do to stop invasive species? If it's an invasive plant, learn its properties and pull it up! Incorporate it into your magical workings and save the local ecosystem at the same time. Research local animals and learn about myths and magical associations. Study the local plants and learn their magical and medicinal properties, scientific names, as well as those that are edible. Wildcrafting is such a joy! When you are doing this, remember to keep a detailed record in your Grimoire or Book of Shadows as a reference.

If you practice witchcraft and are looking to increase your understanding and enhance your practice, I strongly suggest you learn about where you live. When you use the land around you in your personal practice, it makes everything more relatable to you and the spirits around you, thus making everything magical.

Do you use your location in your magical practice? Let me know in the comments below!

Looking to learn more? Here are some suggestions on where to get started.

How to Create A Genius Loci Profile by Sarah Anne Lawless

Working with Spirits: Making Friends with the Genius Loci by Lady Athena

Spirits of Land and Place by ThoughtCo

#genius loci #local witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #hedgecraft #hedge witchcraft #hedgewitch #hedge witch #witch #pagan #wicca #wiccan #witches of tumblr #pagans of tumblr

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