#anyways that's enough talking about a quest that no one on tumblr knows about besides me

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: ezra bridger has been following online microcelebrity spectre_pheonix for years. although her online identity is shrouded in mystery, he may be closer to her than he realizes.

word count: 7309 (7974 counting alt text) 

co-authorship note: the video game sequences featured in this fic were written by my co-author, shadow-ninja-13, who also helped me figure out a few plot things and what video games to include where. he's also my teenage brother, known by some on this site as skyguy, and he's the coolest kid on the planet!a/n: After so, so, so much time working on this fic and talking it up IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!!! Shoutout to my tumblr follows for helping me out with a couple ideas in this fic! Some of this fic is told in embedded images. I have added alt text, so it should be accessible via screenreader as well. I can probably make a pdf copy of a full plaintext version of the story available if anyone needs it!

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels  @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse@dootchster  @lucasbridger@redroverrider  @light-umbra   @commander-tech  @jedimandalorian@notanodinarygirl  {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

need a player 2?

 No, that definitely sounded insincere.

 Ezra backspaced the message he'd typed into the livestream chat, then typed something else.

 Duh. Too obvious. Try again.

 Perfect.

 Ezra hit the send button and waited for a response. It was very rare that spectre_pheonix responded to any of the hundreds of thousands of comments she'd get on her streams, but that didn't stop Ezra from hoping.

 Ezra watched as the player found the Warthog, and perfectly drove, splattering the Aliens that got in her way. Nearby there was a small opening, he watched the player take the truck through, by driving on the stone wall. If she flipped, it’d be all over. If not, she’d be more awesome than usual. The landing was about to happen, the anxiety was building,  and then… a hand got in between him and the phone, blocking his view entirely.

 "Hey," Ezra said, pulling his headphone off of one ear so he could yell at his roommate, whose hand covered his phone.

 "Hey yourself," Jai said, "we gotta get going; we're gonna be late."

 Ezra hadn't looked at a clock since the stream had started, which was apparently three hours ago. Somehow it was already fifteen minutes before the dining hall stopped serving dinner, and it was at least a ten minute walk down that way.

 "Shoot," Ezra sprang to his feet, "I must've lost track of time again."

 "Because you were watching that gamer girl?" Jai asked, leaning on the doorframe.

 "Maybe," Ezra said, as he reached for the nearest matching pair of shoes he could stuff his feet into.

 "What's so interesting about watching someone game, anyways?" Jai asked.

 "I think it's about loyalty now more than anything," Ezra said, "I've been watching her stream since before she became popular. It just wouldn't be right if I didn't watch her gaming sessions, especially when it's a game I love. Besides, she just has this way about her. She's so cool, so collected, so…."

 "....hot?" Jai attempted to finish for him with a smile.

 "I wouldn't know," Ezra said, "she's very good about keeping her personal life personal. I've never seen her face. No one has."

 "So she's a mystery girl."

 "She's just like any other celebrity," Ezra defended.

 "So you mean she'd be way out of your league even if you knew who she was?" Jai asked.

 "More like I haven't even considered it," Ezra said, "I'm one of millions of fans."

 "Isn't her follower count only…"

 "Enough talking," Ezra said, pulling Jai out the door of their dorm room, "I heard a rumor it's pizza night in the dining hall."

 And with that, both boys were off on a new quest: Obtain Pizza.

💜.🎮.🧡

 "I wonder how they'd react if they knew who was in the room with them," Sabine thought, sitting alone with her sketchbook in a corner of her college's student center.

 Across the room, a group of boys were having a heated discussion over their game of Smash Bros. She didn't try to eavesdrop, but she'd always been aware of the world around her, and definitely heard the words "spectre" "phoenix" and "most influential gamer of our generation." 

 "You must be trippin'," one of them said, "her 'let's plays' are nothing more than a halfhearted follower grab."

 "Oh, like you'd know," another said, "your youtube channel has, what, seventeen followers? Oh, and you just came in last place, again."

 Sabine looked back up at their game to see that the fourth-place gamer had been playing as Bowser, then watched Diddy Kong deal a crippling blow on Captain Falcon.

 Then, she glanced at the players, all of them laughing and roasting each other. One wore a t-shirt that said "official spectre spectator," and another had a hat on backwards with spectre_pheonix's logo on it. Sabine would recognize that merch anywhere— after all, she was the one who designed it— as merch for her own shop, and she couldn't say she was disappointed by how much praise its wearers spoke of her with.

 "If only they knew who I was," Sabine thought, but she quickly reminded herself she was glad they didn't. Though she was thankful for her followers and their merch money paying her tuition, she wasn't prepared to have toxic dudebros hounding her everywhere she went. And once word got out at college that she was spectre_pheonix, there would go any sense of normalcy she had. Besides, if word about it slipped back home to her parents, she'd be deeper trouble than she already was.

 So before she could do something regrettable and talk to them, she packed up her stuff and moved to a different study spot.

💜.🎮.🧡

    The Flood surrounded her. In an unexpected turn of events, the creepiest enemy in the entire Halo saga had been introduced. She fired her assault rifle at the hoards of Flood crawling on the ground. The salvo was effective, but costly. She had forty rounds plus one full clip, but that wouldn’t be enough. As she walked the character up some stairs, she found allies, and promptly borrowed their ammo. At the end of the swamp, she encountered the monitor, and watched the cutscene at the end of 343 Guilty Spark.

  "Sorry guys, gotta stop the stream for the night," Sabine said, "it's well past midnight here, and I've got an eight a.m. class."

 She watched the comment section flare up with responses. 

💜.🎮.🧡

 Ezra stumbled into class a couple minutes late, but he was sure his professor would understand. It wasn't his fault that spectre_pheonix had been streaming late last night, right? As long as he quietly slipped into the back of the classroom, no one would notice anyways.

 "Mr. Bridger," Professor Syndulla called to him as he tried in vain to hide his late entry, "so glad you've decided to join us this morning."

 Ezra turned around and tried to hide his guilty expression.

 "Of course, ma'am," Ezra said, with a dramatic salute, "I'd never miss out on one of my favorite teacher's classes."

 "Flattery gets you nowhere in my class," the professor said, "take a seat, and we'll continue."

 "Yes ma'am," Ezra said. He took a seat as close to the back of the room as he could and pulled out his laptop to take notes.

 Ezra tried his best to pay attention, but the lack of sleep was getting the better of him as Professor Syndulla's lesson dragged on.

 "Maybe I could get dad to sit in on class and take notes for me sometime," Ezra thought, "he could listen to her talk for hours."

 It was, admittedly, a little weird that his adoptive father was dating his psychology professor, but at least her letter of recommendation helped him get into this school— on the condition that he "applied himself diligently to his studies" and didn't "discredit her influence by trying to coast on it" and all that other stuff they'd told him when she'd suggested he attend Atollon Alliance University.

 "But I'm definitely not 'diligently applying myself' if I fall asleep in class," Ezra thought, the notes document before him blurring before his eyes, "and I need to do something to stay awake."

 So, he turned to the one thing he'd never be able to sleep through— one of the many videos in his "watch later" tab on youtube. After double checking to make sure his laptop's sound was off and muted— you could never be too careful— he clicked a video titled "spectre_pehonix's top FIFTY EPIC saves!!!" and watched along as he listened to Professor Syndulla's lesson, finding that all that boring stuff about psychology was a lot more interesting when he also had spectre_phonix’s abilities with some grenades against Wraiths, Hunters, and Banshees to focus on.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Class wasn't the only time Ezra used gaming videos to focus. He'd never been one for focusing on one task at a time, and usually found that if he sat down to study, he'd end up pulling out his phone and watching videos on YouTube anyways, and that it was better in the long run to start out with some gaming recap video in the background— except on days when spectre_pheonix was streaming during his study sessions, of course, and he'd watch it live, streaming Twitch in one window on his computer and whatever essay he was nearing the deadline on in the other.

 Today, for example, he had her stream of Halo in the background of a rousing essay of the themes and morals of The Octopus.

 The clock was ticking. 4:23 seconds left to go. The clock only counted down. She drove the Warthog through the groups of retreating Aliens and Flood. 4:07 seconds left to go by this point. She was told to stop, but she knew that that evac point wouldn’t help her. She’d played before, and she knew that the evacuation Pelican was shot down. She kept on driving. At max speed she used an odd floor detailing as a ramp, and jumped a whole group. The stress and tension of the final level made normal players stressed, but not Sabine. 2:25 left on the clock. The point was only about one kilometer away. She kept going, and going, and going. Nothing could stop her now. 1:22 left on the clock, she was within one kilometer away. She would make it! Unless she flipped by mistake. :44 seconds and counting! She saw the Pelican, and started running. She could take the Warthog no farther. She jumped in the Pelican at the last second. Barely beating Halo: Combat Evolved.

 "It's like my teacher always says," spectre_pheonix said, "when things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

 Ezra had only been half focusing, but this statement warranted his full attention. It wasn't as though the statement was profound or original— in fact, he'd heard it before. Abandoning his book report for the moment, Ezra expanded the Twitch tab across his whole screen, and ran it back ten seconds, thinking maybe his brain was playing some cruel trick on him.

 "When things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

 "That's exactly what Professor Syndulla said in psych class today." Ezra thought, "Is spectre_pheonix in my psychology class? Does she go to Attalon Alliance University too? No, that's crazy. Isn't it?"

 His thoughts soon became a cluttered and jumbled mess, so he pulled out a notebook, flipped to random blank page, and after forty-seven minutes had constructed a list that looked something like this:

 His results were inconclusive, but he suddenly remembered the book report due in less than an hour, and the two-thousand seventy-three words short he was from the word count.

 💜.🎮.🧡

 The last decade or so had gone pretty much exactly as Hera had planned. After realizing how important it was to her to help guide young people to their place in the world, she'd set her sights on a philosophy PHD so she could teach at Attalon Alliance University. She'd graduated with honors, and soon began teaching, and it was just as fulfilling as she'd planned it would be.

 But what she hadn't considered in her plans was falling in love. When she was in college, she'd been too focused on her studies, and later on her duties as an RA in her dorm, to even consider pursuing a relationship, and by then, well, she figured there weren't a lot of single men in their late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors, so she poured herself into her work instead, and building good connections with her students as much as she could.

 But, apparently, she hadn't been entirely correct in her assessment of her prospects. There was, apparently, at least one single man in his late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors— a man by the name of Kanan Jarrus, one who'd figured there weren't a lot of single women in their late twenties interested in dating the kind of guy who'd adopted an eight year old at the age of twenty-one and now had a sixteen year-old son who spent most of his time either playing video games or watching other people play them.

 Hera had met Kanan in a chance run-in at a Wisconsin cheese festival, and though there was no denying the spark between them, it took a couple more chance run-ins before she'd agreed to a date. Their relationship progressed slowly, with Hera's career and Kanan's delicate balance of providing for and raising his son, but they'd had more time to see each other over the past year, since his son had enrolled at Attalon Alliance University.

 "Morning, Professor Syndulla," Ezra grinned, walking into class one morning.

 Though all of Hera's students may as well have been her children, she had a special fondness for that one— and took extra caution to make sure she didn't give him special treatment. Though he hadn't fathered Ezra, Kanan's influence on his life was evident through his actions. Ezra shared a lot of mannerisms with his dad, including an answer or an excuse always at the ready, and a charming smile he seemed to think would absolve himself of guilt. However, there were a lot of qualities they didn't share, and one of them was Ezra's propensity to be late.

 It was this propensity for lateness that made Hera do a double-take. Class wouldn't start for another five minutes, and Ezra was here, in class, early.

 "Good morning, Mr. Bridger," Hera said, "is there any particular reason you've shown up on time this morning?"

 "Maybe I'm finally taking this whole 'education' thing seriously?" Ezra suggested.

 "Mhmm," Hera nodded, "and maybe a certain gamer wasn't streaming last night."

 "Well, there's that too," Ezra rolled his eyes and headed for his usual seat, towards the back of the classroom.

 She watched as the rest of the students made their way into the classroom, and another one caught her attention, and not just because of her brightly colored hair.

 "Miss Wren," Hera said, "I enjoyed reading your paper last night."

 "Thanks, Professor Syndulla."

 That was the entirety of their interaction, but Hera could tell by the smile on her student's face that she had taken it to heart. One time during Sabine Wren's first semester, Professor Syndulla had complimented something she said in class, and from the expression on her face, Hera could tell that kind of positive affirmation was foreign to Sabine— and she made it her personal mission to make sure it wasn't foreign to her anymore. Though their conversations rarely went further than a compliment on the student's hard work and a thank you for the professor, Hera could tell that Sabine appreciated it, in her own way.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Ezra had had his own reasons for coming into class on time, and not just to improve his education. He hadn't abandoned his spectre search (or "wild ghost chase," as Jai had called it when Ezra explained it to him,) and his biggest evidence pointed to this class. Maybe if he actually showed up on time, he could get to know his classmates well enough to find out if one of them was her. Instead of listening to her in his headphones as their professor taught, he listened for her in his classroom as their professor took the students' questions, which didn't increase his focus on the lesson at all, but it did give him something to do in class other than watch YouTube recaps and pretend to be taking notes, so it was a nice change of pace.

 After class, he hung around a little longer than normal, standing by one of the classroom doorways to see what he could overhear.

 When only a few students remained in the classroom, Professor Syndulla approached him.

 "Alright, Bridger," she said, "what's your angle?"

 "Angle?" Ezra asked, "why do you assume I have 'an angle?'"

 "You came to class five minutes early, and instead of making a break for the door as soon as possible, you're hanging around after class is dismissed. Pardon me for being suspicious."

 Ezra didn't respond.

 "If there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm here," she said.

 "Look, it's nothing," Ezra said, "don't worry about it."

 Ezra decided to turn heel and leave before his dad's girlfriend started psychoanalyzing him again.

 What Ezra hadn't counted on was someone else walking through the doorway at the same time, and him running into her.

 "Watch where you're going," she grumbled, as a textbook and a few notebooks fell out of her arms.

 Ezra had seen this kind of scene in movies before, so he figured he may as well pick up the textbooks for her.

 "I'm so sorry," he said, crouching down and grabbing the books off the floor, "I didn't…"

 She sighed. "It's alright."

 Her voice almost seemed familiar— no, it did seem familiar.

 "Here you go," Ezra said, getting up and handing her the books, "I, uh…."

 He stumbled over his words, because not only did he recognize her voice as one of his favorites in the world, but when he looked up at her face, he saw rich brown eyes, and hair the same color as spectre_pheonix's logo.

 "You're good," she smiled as she took the books from him.

 "I, uh," he scratched his neck, "I like your hair."

 "Nice shirt," she said, and winked as she walked away.

 He looked back at her as she left, then back down at his shirt— his favorite shirt he'd ever gotten from his favorite streamer's online shop. 

💜.🎮.🧡

 Even when Sabine got back to her dorm room after class, the boy who'd bumped into her after class was still on her mind. There wasn't anything exceptional about him, but there was some kind of awe that sparkled across his blue eyes that almost made her feel special.

 So, as soon as she got back to her dorm room, weird as it sounded, she decided to draw him— not his whole face, just those eyes that had been fixed on her, tucked between a shaggy crop of hair, and those mysterious scars underneath. It wasn't abnormal for her to draw inspiration from people she'd seen around campus like that.

 She also could tell that he must've been a longtime fan of hers. She hadn't sold the "spectre spectator" shirt on her merch site for a couple years, but he had one, and he wore it proudly. She tried to remind herself that there was no way he could've known it was her; she'd been so careful not to leave a trace of her real self online.

 Still, as she saw the awe on this fanboy's face, she wondered if that's how all her followers would respond to seeing her. Her follower count was just a number, but she wondered if that number was all awestruck and loyal followers like that one.

 So, once she finished the sketch, she went to her Twitch profile. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three followers. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three people, people just like the one she met today, who appreciated her with an awestruck wonder.

 She scrolled through the list of names, and noticed one near the top of the list— spectre_6, whose username she'd seen in the comments of many of her videos over the years. The notification said they were streaming Terraria, and, out of curiosity, she pulled up the stream and decided to check it out.

💜.🎮.🧡

 It wasn't very often that Ezra found himself with free time. When he wasn't watching spectre_pheonix's livestreams, or doing homework, or attempting to do both at the same time, he was usually sleeping or hanging out with his friends.

 However, today after class, he found himself with free time enough to do a little digging, and add a new page to his conspiracy:

 It seemed like a good enough list for now, so he decided that, since spectre_pheonix wasn't streaming right now, he may as well pull up Terraria and do a little streaming of his own.

 He was crawling through the pink blocks of his dungeon. Wielding his trusty Horseman’s Blade, he walked through the rough stones of this monster-ridden dungeon. He jumped down a shaft, relying on his jet pack to keep him from dying on the ground. He used the melee/range sword to promptly cut down a nearby Necromancer. He kept running through, and quickly slew several Blue Armored Bones.

 Ezra heard the blip of activity in his comment section, and glanced at the sidebar on his screen. It wasn't unheard of for him to get comments on his streams, but it also wasn't very common either.

 He glanced at the comment, then did a double take and a triple take. The color of the name was familiar. The username was familiar. There was a checkmark next to her name to show he was following her.

 Ezra's heart skipped several beats, like when your teacher calls on you in class, but in a good way, like when you're prepared for it— but he wasn't prepared for this at all, no matter how much he'd dreamed it would happen.

 Spectre_pheonix had commented on one of his livestreams.

 "OH MY GOSH!" he yelled into the mic, not noticing The Paladin behind him until it was too late. Quite frankly, he didn't care that his “Incompetence was put on display by Paladin’s Hammer” because at least being dead gave him a chance to respond to her comment.

 He tried to get back into his game, but couldn't focus, especially when she responded.

 She didn't reply to that, and he wondered if she was still even watching. Rather than just check in a normal way, he instead blurted, "spectre_pheonix, if you're still watching, wanna do a collab sometime?"

 He was mentally kicking himself in the shins for asking such a foolish question, but was excited when he saw a reply in the comments section:

💜.🎮.🧡

 The past week had pretty much been the best week of Ezra's life. Spectre_pheonix rarely collabed with anyone, but the past week they'd joined in together for Minecraft, LEGO Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and Dust: An Elysian Tale, the latter of which, being single player, was just spectre_pheonix playing and spectre_6 giving commentary. Not only was this a dream come true, but it also boosted his meager follower count, and Jai had even stopped picking on him for his fantasy fanboying, instead jokingly referring to Ezra's collabs as "the closest thing he'd ever get to a date." Ezra didn't care.

 He'd also been on the lookout more and more for that girl he'd run into, Sabine. Whether or not Sabine was spectre_pheonix, he had yet to decide on, but that didn't change the fact that she was still a pretty girl who'd smiled at him at least once, which definitely kept her in the forefront of Ezra's mind.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Sabine rarely shared any information about herself online, but it was hard to plan collab information via Twitch, so she'd exchanged discord handles with spectre_6. Admittedly, he would've been as great a gamer as she was, if maybe he'd had a little more practice playing instead of just spectating. Still, collabs with him were enjoyable, and his sense of humor turned even Dark Souls into a hilarious adventure.

 As she took notes on Professor Syndulla's class on her laptop, she kept discord open in a separate tab.

 "Miss Wren?" Professor Syndulla asked, "is there something humorous about my lesson on how having traumatic experiences as a child inhibit our ability to make connections in the future?"

 "No, ma'am," Sabine said. She hadn't realized how much of a mistake it would be to message spectre_6 in class until now. Usually, the people she'd chat with in class didn't have nearly as great a sense of humor as he did. Surely that was the only reason his conversations had her giggling in the middle of psych class.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Ezra had done just enough research in class to find out everything he needed to know about Sabine. He'd positioned himself where he could see her, notice the deep gray of discord in the side corner of her computer next to the class notes. She typed in response to his messages. She laughed in response to his messages. When the teacher called her out for giggling in class, the same thing apparently happened to spectre_pheonix. She closed discord and payed attention in class at the same time spectre_pheonic did.

 Ezra was convinced now more than ever: spectre_pheonix's real name was Sabine Wren, and she'd been in his psychology class this whole time.

 She was a very private person, and someone finding out who she was definitely wasn't on her radar with how careful she'd been about personal details, so he knew if he brought it up, he'd have to breach the subject very, very carefully.

💜.🎮.🧡

 "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

 Sabine looked up from her notebook with a start, intending to stick around after class so she could apologize to Professor Syndulla, not so that some random peer could slam his hands on her desk and yell ungrounded accusations at her.

 But to her surprise, and in some ways her delight, the student she saw in front of her was the boy she'd bumped into last week, with the same soft blue eyes, the same dark, shaggy hair, and the same purple and orange shirt she'd once sold on her shop.

 "What do you mean?" Sabine asked, beginning to pack up her things in an attempt to make a hasty exit.

 His voice lowered. "I know you're spectre_pheonix."

 She tried to keep a cool head, not to show her abject terror. She knew of a lot of bad things that had happened to celebrities when a crazed fan found them, and couldn't let this one know the truth.

 "Who?" she asked, "I'm sorry, I, I don't know what you're talking about."

 "I think you do," he said.

 "What makes you so sure?" she asked, trying to stall just a moment as she quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to leave.

 "Because I'm spectre_6."

 She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to look at him, sizing it all up in her mind. He'd clearly been a longtime fan of hers, just like spectre_6 had. Now that she thought about it, his voice sounded familiar, too. He'd also mentioned sitting in class, right when she was, and that the same thing had happened in his class that happened to her.

 Still, she needed confirmation.

 "What?"

 "You started laughing in class today because of my joke about tax evasion," he said, "and then decided to 'sign off and lock in' so you could keep your grades up. Last night after you finished your collab with me, I messaged you a gif of Master Chief saluting and saying "goodnight," and you called me a total dork— that was a high honor, by the way. And then the day before that…"

 "Okay, okay," she said, a little quieter, afraid of the few students still in the room overhearing, "I'm convinced. But how did you find out it was me?"

 "You quoted Professor Syndulla in your stream a week and a half ago," he said, "and then you complimented my shirt last week, the same shirt I'm wearing now— and yes, I have washed it between then and now— and your hair matches your logo, and, I was watching you today in class— not, like, watching you, watching you. Like, not in a stalker way— oh kriff, am I a stalker? I am so sorry, that's really creepy now that I think about it. Anyways while I was hopefully maybe definitely not stalking you, I noticed that you reacted to every message I sent spectre_pheonix, and my suspicions were confirmed."

 And Sabine's suspicions were confirmed when she heard him ramble, the same way spectre_6 always did when he was nervous in-game.

 "Nice deduction, spectre_6," she said, feeling so much more comfortable now that she knew that this stranger was a friend she'd already met.

 "Call me Ezra," he said, extending a hand to her, "Ezra Bridger."

 "Sabine," she said, taking his hand and shaking it, "it's nice to finally meet you."

 "You have no idea," he said.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Being roommates with Ezra Bridger meant you had to be prepared for anything. Walking into the dorm room and thinking you're alone only to find your roommate under his desk, watching vines, and claiming both those things were for "emotional support." Listening to the most insane rumors and conspiracy theories about your teachers and classmates. Helping hide that stupid orange cat he'd smuggled in. Waking up at 2am to the beeping of a microwave and the smell of pizza rolls. All of this came with the territory, and Jai was professional in handling the insane force of nature that was Ezra Bridger.

 But none of it could prepare him for what he saw when he walked into his dorm room one day after lunch and found Ezra cleaning. For someone whose laundry was piled higher than his loft bed, and who acted like he'd never seen a bottle of windex in his life, Ezra sure seemed to have purpose as he rushed around the room, putting away clean clothes while also tidying up the cluttered pile of papers and funko pops that he claimed were hiding a desk.

 "May I ask what the occasion is?" Jai asked.

 Ezra didn't even turn to look at him as his tornado of tidiness swept across the dorm room.

 "Surprise."

 "Surprise what?" Jai asked, "like, 'you can't tell me' surprise, or 'you wanted to surprise me by cleaning our room' surprise or 'your dad is coming for a surprise visit' surprise?"

 "The first one," Ezra said.

 "I'm not even gonna ask," Jai said.

 "Good," Ezra said, "because you wouldn't believe me."

 There were a lot of things Ezra could do that were unbelievable, but he was pretty sure just cleaning up the room was enough to suspend his standard of disbelief.

 Jai sat down at his own desk and pulled out his laptop, figuring he may as well work on his history homework while he waited for the inevitable Bridger surprise.

 About ten minutes later, Jai thought he heard a knock on the door, followed by Ezra yelling out "I'M COMING!" and bolting for the door, picking up the last bits of trash off the floor on his way.

 Jai watched his roommate fumble to open the door with the trash still in his hand, then toss it into a corner where it wouldn't be seen and pull the door open.

 "Sabine," Ezra said, "come on in."

 "Alright," a girl's voice said.

 A girl?

 Ezra Bridger had never talked to a girl in person in all their time at Attalon Alliance University, so naturally Jai was surprised when a beautiful girl followed Ezra into their dorm room.

 "Oh, Sabine," Ezra said, "this is my roommate, Jai."

 "Nice to meet you," Sabine said, with a smile.

 "Pardon the disbelief on my face," Jai said, "I didn't know Ezra even knew how to talk to girls who weren't on his computer."

 Ezra looked a touch embarrassed, but his new friend spoke up for him, with half a giggle.

 "We met through his computer," Sabine said, "he may have mentioned me. Spectre_pheonix?"

 "You mean the Wild Ghost Chase wasn't just another ungrounded conspiracy theory?" Jai asked.

 "Wild Ghost Chase?"

 "It's called The Spectre Search," Ezra defended, "and yes, as I predicted, spectre_pheonix is, in fact, another student in my psych class."

 "I came over to do a collab in person today," she said, "it's a lot better than trying to voice chat over Ezra's grainy mic setup."

 "Hey!" Ezra said.

 "She's got a point," Jai said, "and I guess my prediction was right too."

 "What prediction?" Ezra asked.

 "I told you if you ever met her she'd be way out of your league."

 "Hey!" Ezra said again. "Don't you have a history report due?"

 "Relax, I'm just messing with you," Jai said, "besides, this one's an easy A."

 And with that, he turned back to his computer and let Ezra and Sabine have the illusion of privacy for their first in-person edition of "the closest thing Ezra would ever get to a date." Jai put on his headphones and went to his favorite research material: opening Spotify and resuming where he'd last left off in Hamilton: An All American Musical.

💜.🎮.🧡

 It wasn't uncommon after that for them to stream in Ezra's dorm room, or in Sabine's when Jai was busy with homework he couldn't risk interruption in. This time was one of those days, because, as Jai cited, "Lin Manuel Miranda didn't write us a musical about algebra," so Ezra found himself on the floor in her room, leaning his back against her bed, while she sat on her bed, her legs dangling off the side next to him.

 While they waited to connect on their college's laggy internet, Ezra filled the silence.

 "So, how do you think you'll do on that psych test next week?"

 "Not too bad, I hope," Sabine said, "you?"

 "I just hope dad has room on the fridge for another D-," Ezra said.

 "Maybe I can put in a good word with the professor for you," Sabine said, a bit of a laugh in her tone. "She and I have a fairly good rapport."

 "If only you knew," Ezra thought.

 "Unfortunately, this is one area where I think I do have you beat," Ezra said.

 "Are you crazy?" Sabine asked, leaning over the edge of the bed so she could see if his expression was sarcastic, "she's clearly got it out for you. I've never seen her go so hard on any student."

 "And why do you think that is?" Ezra asked.

 "Because you don't apply yourself in any of your classes and she thinks you're wasting potential?"

 "Well, yeah," Ezra said, "but I'm not the only one who does that, and she singles me out anyways."

 "And why do you suppose that is?"

 Ezra sighed. Professor Syndulla had never mentioned having a boyfriend, at least, not in any of the classes Ezra had been in, and if she had, no one besides Jai would've known it was Ezra's dad. It was a touchy subject for him, so he didn't bring it up much.

 But somehow he could tell Sabine would understand.

 "She's dating my dad," Ezra said.

 "She— what?"

 This wasn't normal information for students to know about their teachers, so he understood her confusion.

 "How do you think I even got into this school, what, with my grades?" Ezra asked, "if not for her glowing letter of recommendation, I wouldn't even be here right now."

 "So your dad is dating your professor so you can get into college?"

 "What, no?" Ezra said, "They've been together for years, and I wasn't even thinking about college until long after they met. But dad always thought college would be good for me, and Professor Syndulla offered to help me get in and found me some scholarships."

 "So our psych professor is hard on you because she's dating your dad?"

 "Yeah, lots of psychology to unpack there." Ezra said.

 "How do you feel about it all?"

 Ezra paused. He hadn't answered that one honestly in a while, not even when his dad asked him last saturday.

 "Do you really wanna know?" Ezra asked.

 Sabine slid down off her mattress and sat down next to him, and her presence was already familiar enough to inspire honesty.

 "Yeah," she said.

 "It's weird," Ezra said, "I guess I never really grasped the idea of having a mom again."

 After a moment of silence, Sabine asked another question. "Can I ask what happened to your mom?" 

 "The same thing that happened to my dad," Ezra said, "my real dad that is— I mean, my birth dad. I don't wanna say Kanan's not my real dad. He raised me for more than half my life, anyways, after my parents went on a missions' trip and never came back."

 "Oh."

 "It's alright," Ezra said, not letting her waste time on awkward sympathy. "No, no it's not, and to be honest it really sucks, but there's nothing any of us could've done to stop it. And Kanan, he was always there for me, even before my parents left."

 Sabine didn't answer, but it felt nice to talk to her about it anyways, so he hoped she didn't mind that he continued.

 "They're getting married," he said.

 "What?"

 "Professor Syndulla and my dad," Ezra said. "Well, she doesn't know it yet, and maybe she'll say no again, but I don't think so. Dad's proposing at dinner on Friday."

 Sabine nodded again, clearly trying to process everything he'd said.

 "I'm sorry," Ezra said, "I didn't mean to make this a pity party."

 "Don't be," Sabine said, "this is what friends are for."

 "Friends?" Ezra thought, with a smile. Two months ago he'd been her fan, and she hadn't even known he existed. And now they were friends? He could get used to this.

 "But just so we're clear," Sabine said, "I don't pity you."

 "What?"

 "You have a dad who thinks the world of you," Sabine said, "and I'd kill to have a mom like Professor Syndulla."

 "Why?" Ezra asked.

 "Because I know what it's like to have a mom who's not like her," Sabine said, "a mom who's not proud of you. A mom who doesn't compliment the sketches you draw in the margins of your notes. A mom whose biggest dream is for you to drop out of your art major so you can join the family business instead."

 "I, I'm sorry," Ezra said.

 "I don't need your sympathies either," Sabine said.

 Ezra put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, trying to find the words to say. Someone whose whole persona was built on a mask of online secrecy had just shared something so personal with him, and he didn't know what to say.

 "You're getting them anyways," Ezra said, "do you want to talk at all?"

"What's there to say?" Sabine said, "that family business always came before family? That even my own brother thought it was more fun to game with his friends than his sister? That my parents wouldn't give a single dime for my tuition, and if it wasn't for my merch money and some massive scholarships I wouldn't even be here?" 

 "Do you wanna come to dinner on Sunday?"

 "What?" Sabine asked, apparently shocked out of her despair.

 "I always go to my dad's for a family dinner on Sunday afternoon after church. Professor Syndulla does too. We're probably gonna be celebrating the engagement, and then she's gonna beat us in our weekly game of Ticket to Ride. It's incredibly boring, but if you wanna join us anyways…"

 "I'll be there," Sabine said with a smile.

 And instead of returning to her normal seat, she stayed next to Ezra as they remembered why they were there in the first place and began their game together.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Sunday ended up being one of the most enjoyable days Sabine had had in a long time. She ended up tagging along with Ezra that morning when he went to church, so he wouldn't have to drive back to the school to pick her up. It was a new experience for her, but he didn't seem to mind. Afterwards, they went back to Ezra's dad's house— Ezra's house, technically— for a family dinner, along with Professor Syndulla, who was absolutely beaming as she showed off her engagement ring. Another one of Kanan's family friends, whom Ezra referred to as "Uncle Zeb," was there as well, along with the professor's cat, Chopper, who couldn't be trusted to stay at home alone for a whole afternoon without destroying the place. The game of Ticket to Ride that came out after dinner only had enough pieces for four players, but Ezra and Sabine teamed up so everyone could play— and even with their combined mental resources, they were still no match for Professor Syndulla.

 As they drove back to school, Sabine reminded herself why Ezra had done this. Not a single person at that dinner was related to each other— and yet, they were family— and Ezra wanted Sabine to be part of it too. 

 Maybe this "friendship" thing wasn't so bad after all.

💜.🎮.🧡

 Spectre_pheonix and spectre_6 had been doing collaborative streams for most of the past month. Her fans really enjoyed his commentary on her skills, often leaving comments about how well her dry wit complimented his whimsical sense of humor, and how well they worked together. Both of them gained more followers because of it, which Ezra thought was almost impossible, because how could there have been people on Twitch who weren't already following her?

 "You ever read the comment section?" Ezra asked one day as they were playing Minecraft.

 "Not often. Why?" 

 "Look at these," Ezra said, then read a few of them out loud.

 "That last one is true, at least," Sabine said, and it would've been harsh if he hadn't seen the twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

 "That last one was my roommate," Ezra said, glaring across the room at Jai, who smiled innocently. 

 "Oh, but this one isn't," Ezra said, reading off the latest comment:

 He smiled at Sabine.

 "That's a great question," Ezra said, into the mic so the commenter could hear. "Hey, spectre_pheonix, wanna go out on Friday?"

 Sabine looked at him and smiled. "Sounds like a date," she said.

 "Great," Ezra said, then turned back to his mic, unable to hold back an enormous grin as he said, "Yes, yes we are."

 💜.🎮.🧡

 By all accounts, it should've been weird for them to go out on a date instead of just hanging out and playing video games. It should've been weird when Ezra showed up at Sabine's door, wearing a nice button down shirt instead of her merch, holding a bouquet of purple and orange roses instead of his custom gaming controller. It should've been weird as they sat down to eat something nicer than dining hall pizza or a bag of doritos that ended up half-strewn across the dorm room floor as they blasted away at each other in Halo. It should've been weird when Ezra put on a playlist in the car of the cringiest but most endearing love songs she'd ever heard, and even more so when they found themselves singing along, and it should've been weird when Ezra put his arm around her during the movie and she leaned in closer, and it should've been weird when they walked out of the theater and he put his coat over her bare shoulders without her even needing to tell him she was cold. It should've been weird when, instead of ending the evening with, "so, Terraria tomorrow?" it ended with a couple "I had a great time"s and a delicate first kiss.

 It should've been weird, but it wasn't. It wasn't weird at all that they had more in common than their love of video games. It wasn't weird at all that conversations with him came naturally and being in his presence felt like breathing. It wasn't weird at all that, as soon as she was alone, Sabine found herself leaning back against her dorm room door and sighing dramatically like the heroine of a cheesy romcom.

 It wasn't weird at all. In fact, it was perfect.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

[catgirlcommie]

i think im done with pmas it's just that i can't buy into so many of the things it has like i don't for a second believe that teams of magical girls that are 5-10 girls can survive long at all also the fact that so many people know and are seemingly very okay with the lich bombs or the fact that some groups have grief seed stockpiles of 30+ or the fact that groups of magical girls could mobilize to move to different cities leaving their territory that is absolutely vital to their existence

[metize]

Valentione’s Day Chocolate

Emet-Selch x WoL (AFAB) smut Tags: Valentione's Day ; No Spoilers ; AFAB Warrior of Light ;They/Them Pronouns for Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) ; Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) ; Fluff and Smut

A/N:Emet smut! Finally posting my FFXIV fics on tumblr. Cuz I want to do headcanons and requests and stuff...... Anyways! This is just fluff and smut. No warnings just pure bastard ascian thirst quenching material.

You were resting in your room in the Pendants, sitting down at the dining table when Emet-Selch waltzed in. You were over trying to get him to leave at this point, the recurring encounters made you more accustomed to his insufferable personality.

"Hey! Stop it, this isn't for you!" You pulled the box of chocolates away from the Ascian, who already held one in his hand.

"Oh, please, you have dozens more on you little pile there, Hero, selfishness is not a good look  for you." He said unbothered by your reaction. Emet-Selch gestured towards your stack of heart-shaped boxes, they were gifted to you by the people of the Crystarium all of them very eager to show their appreciation for the Warrior of Darkness.

"This one's different. This one….  It's from the Exarch." You mutter, tracing your fingers along the container.

"And? Is the chocolate any sweeter when it's handed to you by our friendly neighborhood hooded freak?"

"He's not-" you don't know why you feel the urge to defend the Crystal Exarch, but you feel very close to him, his devotion and wisdom are admirable and you felt a growing sense of fondness towards the anonymous Crystarium ruler. "I don't know why I'd even bother explaining these things to you." You shake your head, telling yourself not to waste your breath. "Looking at you Ascians I scarcely believe your kind would understand feelings."

Emet-Selch popped the round bonbon into his mouth before saying. "How cruel, Hero. I will have you know I feel as much as you do." He sighs disappointed "Perhaps even more, I'd argue." He muttered under his breath.

"Well then understand that this box is full of feelings, fondness, appreciation…"

"Strange, those don't translate that well into taste." He mused and crossed his legs "I must say I find your day of courtship is severely lacking. Is this all you do to show you care for another?"

You rolled your eyes "Well excuse us mortals for letting you down yet again." You close the violated box, sealing it back by tying the red ribbon over it. "Here you can have this one if you want candy that badly." You push a random package, pink and sparkly, towards Emet-Selch.

“Oh, Warrior, you shouldn’t have!” he feigned bashfulness and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I am very flattered, oh look you even wrote me a letter, let me see.” There was indeed a small piece of paper attached to the present, Emet-Selch unfolded the card before reciting “Dear Emet-Selch,” You huff in amusement, curious as to what the Ascian would make up “I pale in comparison to you and your kind, I am so grateful for your selflessness and your assistance during my meaningless quests.” You crossed your arms, not surprised by his antics, but then you weren’t expecting him to continue. “We are sworn enemies and yet I cannot quell the flames burning inside of me whenever I see you. I want nothing more than be ravished by you, every night I touch myself to the thought of y-”

“G-gods! That’s it your Valentione’s candy rights have been revoked.” You grab the box he held in his hands, taking it away from him, your face burning up at his shameless smirk. “Do you have nothing else to do besides teasing me for your own amusement? Just walk into your creepy portal and get a hobby already.” You get up from the table, pretending to be cleaning things up.

“Ah, you’d be surprised at how enjoyable it is to watch you squirm.” But he got up right behind you. “So much passion, Hero. Who would’ve thought you garnered such feelings for me.”

“Pff, you wish. And there is no passion or feelings in that letter, who’s to say I didn’t just want you to fuck me and that’s it.” You turned around to face him. He was way closer than you expected him to be and you stumble backward a bit, yet he steps right back into your personal space.

“If I were to fuck you, Hero, it'd most certainly be with passion, I can assure you." He smiled and reached to caress your hair.

“You’re the worst.” You averted your gaze, embarrassed by the closeness and his gentle touch, yet you didn’t move away. Of course you didn’t, you were attracted to that bastard for some reason and you cursed yourself endlessly for it. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean just to get a reaction out of me.”

He grabbed your face by your chin, his touch now rough, forcing you to look at him. “I’ve told you before, Hero. I do not lie.” His tone is now low and he delights himself seeing you get goosebumps on your skin as he caresses your arm with his free hand. “Though I cannot deny how much I enjoy your reactions.”

It annoyed you how readable you were to him, every part of your body seemed to betray you and clearly show him exactly how much you were affected by his presence. You couldn’t even process the fact he started closing the gap between you until you felt his lips press against yours. You let out a tiny gasp in surprise, parting your lips slightly, he pressed himself closer deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into your mouth. You started kissing him back and you could feel him smile against your lips, his mouth growing hungrier as he guided you back against the table you were just talking on.

You sat on the table, glad you managed to put away the gifts giving you some space to rest on. Emet nudged himself in between your legs, you spread them wider unconsciously giving him more space, welcoming him closer. “So pliant to my touch, dear hero.” He murmurs, his hands gripping your waist as he starts kissing your neck. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please… Touch me…” You plead softly before you can get too self-conscious about sounding needy. You’re instantly rewarded with the feeling of his gloved hand slipping under your top, reaching to play with one of your breasts. His other hand slowly unbuttoning said blouse, while he peppered your revealed skin with kisses. Once your torso was fully exposed you fought the urge to cover yourself as Emet-Selch’s persistent gaze never left your upper body.

“You’ve tempted me for far too long, Warrior of Light…” he spoke more to himself than to you, shaking his head before diving to kiss one of your nipples while his hand tugged at the other. You bit your lips to try and stifle your groans, but Emet tsked at you. “Don’t hide your voice from me, I wish to hear it.” He smiled devilishly. “The more pathetic you sound the happier I get.” To punctuate his phrase he blew on your slickened pink bud, making your breath hitch.

“Y-you really are the worse.” You shook your head, cheeks flushed at the way he played with your body as a practiced musician did with their instrument.

“Maybe so…” He mused, gripping your bottoms to undress you further. “But will I find you dripping for the awful being before you? How come my virtuous hero finds themselves in this predicament? Submissive, pliant, needy, beneath their villain’s touch…” He smirked and kissed his way down your body as your garments were pulled down, leaving you completely bare while the Ascian was fully clothed. The contrast made you shiver with anticipation, his words were going straight to your core, the sheer wrongness of this whole setting was infuriatingly arousing. Emet was on his knees between your legs, you could feel his hot breath on your skin. He looked at you straight in the eyes as he pulled his glove off with his teeth, right before using his now bare fingers to spread your lips open. “Maybe you’re not such a good warrior to your Goddess after all, are you? From here all I see is a depraved, needy little thing.”

“Emet, p-please…” His touches were fleeting and his mouth left wet kisses on her inner thigh.

“Hm?” He looked up, feigning innocence.

“Please I need you…”

“You are so greedy with your words, pray share them with me. What do you need of me?” His fingers gently rubbed your entrance, you moan still trying to sort your words out while he teased you. He sighed. “What is it, do you want my fingers deep inside your cunt? Want me to spread you open with my fingers and make you come on them?” You nodded profusely at his suggestions and he plunged a digit into your entrance with no warning pulling a gasp from your lips before he kept talking. “You want my mouth on you? Want me to use my tongue to bring you to completion while you whine and try to grind against my mouth?”

“Yes! Gods yes.” With that his lips were on you.

He kissed your pussy still stretching it with his finger, he added a second digit as he started licking and teasing your clit. You couldn’t help but gasp and moan under his ministrations, his hands reached everywhere inside of you and his mouth was absolutely sinful. You softly begged him not to stop, as his fingers curled inside you and his warm tongue circled your sensitive nub. You cried out coming around him, you didn’t even notice you had you hand gripping his hair until you were coming down from the high. You were aching still, you were pretty sure you’d go insane if you didn’t get filled with the Ascian’s cock in the next few minutes.

“M-more…”

“Insatiable little thing, aren’t you?” his usual condescending tone was betrayed by his visible erection. “Want your pretty little cunt filled with my cum? Broken little thing, you are…” Your vision was hazy, you were lost in both the afterglow and the arousal that was building up again inside you. You weren’t watching his movements, all you could focus on was his amber eyes blown out with lust and the filthy words he spoke into your ear, soon enough you felt his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down against your slit.

“Don- Don’t do this… ah… to me.” you were tired of his teasing, it was bordering on cruelty at this point. “Need you inside me…”

That seemed to persuade him enough because he started pressing into your warm entrance at once. His lips went back to kissing yours as he bottomed out inside, the kiss was desperate and passionate, the way his mouth consumed you arousing you further as you felt his dick stretching your walls.

“All the way in…” he announced and kissed your forehead gently, giving you a moment to adjust. You nodded violently giving him permission to move already and he smiled at your eagerness. His thrusts started deep and steady, your moans filling the room each time he hit just the right spot inside of you. “Is this what you need, Hero? You need to be filled, hm? Only I can make you feel complete, my dear warrior.” He pulled your hair and looked into your eyes, as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I see you. I know what you need and only I can give it to you.”

You cried out for him as his pace quickened, you could feel your second orgasm approaching quickly but you wanted to come to his voice speaking more filthy things to you. He noticed it too, smirking at you before continuing to speak. “Come around my cock, my needy broken little hero. Do it and I’ll give you my cum, I’ll fill you up like you need to be filled. I will ruin you for anyone else.” You moaned and scratched his clothed back as he fucked you through your climax. He didn’t stop pounding you. “That’s it, that’s my good little hero… Fuck…” He groaned feeling you clenching around him, his pace faltering until he came inside you.

The both of you breathe heavily before Emet kissed your forehead. You close your eyes still catching your breath as you hear the familiar ‘snap’ of the Ascians fingers, you open your eyes to find you both in bed.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.” you teased him as you felt his arms holding you from behind. “You’ll find I am full of surprises.” You can hear the smirk on his voice, you huffed before nudging closer to him and closing your eyes, sinking into sleep.

You wake up alone, a red box of chocolates placed on your nightstand addressed to “my good little hero”.

[wilteddaisies]

Yours - Chapter One

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: injury, mentions of blood

Note: The first chapter is here! I am so excited to share this fic. I usually don’t write fanfiction but I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here it is. As always, feedback would be greatly appreciated!

CHAPTER ONE

Gods, you loved flying. Sure, winnowing back to the Night Court would have been faster, but there was absolutely nothing like soaring through the clouds, so high that the ground below faded away and there was nothing but you and the wind in your wings. You sighed as Velaris came into view. As much as you loved the ancient libraries and golden light of the Day Court, the winding streets and twinkling night lights of Velaris would always call you back home. 

Your father was waiting for you in front of your family’s river estate. You landed gracefully before taking off again in a sprint into his open arms. You squealed as he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

“Daddy!” You laughed as he set you back on your feet, but still held you. You breathed in his familiar scent. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He gazed down at you and smiled warmly. “Your mother is at the studio but she should be home soon.” He picked up your bags and led you inside, prattling on about your mom’s business and the hell Cassian has been raising in the Illyrian camps. The elegant river house was just as you left it in the fall. The familiar lavishly furnished rooms and ever lingering scent of flowers welcomed you home. You followed your father up the staircase and to your room. 

“I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in,” he said, setting your things on the bed. He turned around to place a kiss on your hair. “Welcome home.” 

A welcome home, indeed.

That night, the entire inner circle met at the river house to celebrate your homecoming and the completion of your studies with Helion in the Day Court. The atmosphere was warm and lively in the dining hall, Cassian had no trouble convincing your father to open some bottles of his precious good wine to celebrate. You were happily chatting away with Mor about how difficult it was to focus on your studies with so many gorgeous Day Court males around, when Cassian chimed in.

“Males? What males? What are their names? I just want to talk,” he said with mock intensity. 

“You do know I am old enough to date, don’t you, Uncle Cass?” you laugh. “But anyways, they’re all too intimidated by me. And by who my father and uncles are, of course.”

“Damn straight.” He winked and Mor elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Come on, there must have been someone that kept you company while you were in the Day Court,” Mor insisted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Even Amren and Nesta looked interested to hear your answer, but your father just tried not to look too invested in your conversation, looking down at his plate in a miserable attempt to look disinterested. 

“Well. . .” you began, trying to steer the conversation away from the truth, which was that you had never actually felt that sort of connection with anyone. Well, no one except a certain broody shadowsinger who was considered very, very off limits. 

Thankfully, you were spared the trouble of coming up with some half-assed excuse when a loud crash sounded outside the manor. Everyone at the table tensed, the mood instantly shifting. The darkened eyes and battle ready stances of your family were quick to remind you that centuries old warriors were beside you. Suddenly, weapons you hadn’t even realised they had concealed were drawn. You should have known that no one in your family would show up anywhere unarmed. Cassian drew a sword from who knows where, Mor and Amren held daggers, and Aunt Nesta just summoned her power, that alone being a deadly weapon in itself. Your mother drew your Aunt Elaine close to her. You could see darkness curling around your father’s fingertips and you followed suit, the familiar tingle of magic in your veins sparking a rush of adrenaline. 

Your father led the way as you all stalked out the front door to see. . . Azriel. You rushed forward, pushing past your father to kneel by a bleeding Azriel. 

“Oh Az, your wing.” Your heart shattered at the sight of his broken left wing, the flesh in shreds. It must have been done with something strong and fast, very fast if it managed to reach Azriel, who was amazingly swift on his wings and with his winnowing. The rest of the circle gathered around him, trying to help him up and assess the damage.

“The mortal queens,” he managed to croak out, “I heard whispers of a weapon they made to rival the fae. And when I tried to investigate it, I encountered the beast that guarded it.”

“That’s enough.” Feyre said, “Let’s get you cleaned and healed up. I’ll summon a healer immediately. You can tell us the rest after.”

“I can help.” You say and everyone turned towards you. Your hands were still shaking and your voice wavered at Azriel’s state but you steeled yourself. “I learned a lot of healing magic while I was in Helion’s court. Let me help you.” You met Azriel’s eyes and it was like he tethered you to earth, the strength and resilience you found in them seemed to flow into you, too. 

He nodded once. That was enough for Cassian and Rhys to haul one arm over each of their shoulders. 

“Where to, boss?” Cassian teased but you found pride in his eyes. And when you looked to your father, you saw the same thing. 

“Get him into my room. I’ll take it from there.”

The inner circle had retired to the river house’s various guest rooms by the early hours of the morning, but you stayed awake, the gentle glow of the healing magic from your palms never faltering even though it had been hours. After Cassian and your father got Azriel onto the bed, you made him a salve from the various powders and tonics you brought from the Day Court that would assist the healing process. Aunt Elaine had even supplied some more supplemental herbs and flowers from her garden. 

They all stayed for nearly an hour after you started the healing spell, watching as flesh and bone slowly knitted back together, when your mother finally ushered them all out, insisting that you needed to focus. You shot her a grateful smile as she also stepped out and shut the door behind her. Now that everyone was gone, you could finally focus on the spell. Well, focus as much as you could with Azriel’s shirtless torso gleaming with perspiration. You would think after training in and mastering healing magic, you’d be unfazed by the male body, but Azriel’s stunning beauty was not something you could just get used to. 

It was nearly two in the morning when you heard a soft knock on your door. Your father’s head poked in.

“Sweetheart, you need to take a break.” He said and wiped a bead of sweat from your brow. You hadn’t even realised you were this physically strained. 

“I can’t, dad. Not until he’s healed.” You turned back towards Azriel’s healing wing when your father’s hands enveloped your own, stopping their magic. 

“Dad! He needs-”

“You’re the one who’s going to need healing if you try to continue this spell without taking a break.” His brows furrowed with concern. You knew what he saw, you must have looked a mess. Hair mussed, dark circles under your eyes, and a near permanent wrinkle on your forehead between your brows from holding your deadly focused expression for so long. 

“I know.” You sighed, giving in. “I suppose I could stop for a moment.” He enveloped you in a warm hug that you hadn’t realised you needed until that moment. “I’m just. . . I’m worried about him, dad. He’s always going off on these dangerous quests with the interests of the court being a bigger concern than his own well being.”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed. “What was that you said about putting other people’s needs over your own well being?” He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face and then sighed. “That’s my girl, always so selfless and always so stubborn.” He planted a kiss on the top of your head. “You’re a lot like your mother in that way, you know.”

You reluctantly pull away from his arms. “I know, dad.” You rolled your eyes and huffed a sigh, stretching your back, you just realised that standing over Az for so long had really taken its toll on you. “I suppose I could take a shower and change out of this dress.” You were still in your cocktail dress from dinner, you also realised. 

“Yes, please do. I mean this in the gentlest way possible sweetheart, but you stink.” You halfheartedly shove him out of the room. 

“Gee thanks, dad. It’s no wonder how mom fell for that suave charm.” And you shut the door in his face, but not before catching his teasing smile that only he could pull off, somehow managing to look loving and full of himself at the same time. You rolled your eyes before walking into your en suite.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I promise the next one will have more Azriel and a bit more spice. If you wanna be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave a comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

Taglist: @moonchild-cf​ @pansexual-booknerd​ @huffypuffyme​

[loopy777]

RE: WIPs game: do I even want to know what Dicebenders is is it another scam how many times are the Gaang gonna get arrested for scamming

No, this time it's me scamming people. XD The dice in question are the RPG Dungeons & Dragons kind.

For a while I was doing a screencap webcomic in the style of "DM of the Rings" and "Darths & Droids" with another creative fan named Captain Boomerang. I was the scriptwriter and selected the screenshots for each panel, and Capt-BA would assemble the comics and improve my scripts (a process that did frustrate me a little, as I felt locked out of the revision process, but I did like the results. I just felt like I wasn't holding up my end of the partnership a bit). I wrote a story bible explaining the characters and storytelling rules, planned out the adaptation of the entire AtLA premiere, and had less detailed plans for the rest of the series, but we only got 6 comics in before Capt-BA went on a trip and never returned to the internet. I did manage to re-establish contact with her long enough to get permission to continue the comic, but the problem is that I have no image-editing skills whatsoever.

If I could find comic-making software that I know would do what I want and be easy to use, I wouldn't mind dropping some money on it, but everything I've looked at is trying to do lots of things I don't need. I only want a way to import existing pictures into comic grids, and then easily add dialogue bubbles. That's it. But the stuff I've found is more about image-editing than comic assembly, and it takes me an hour to put together a dialogue bubble that looks good. So I have 3 scripts that were never produced, which along with the planning docs are what's in that WIP folder, and I don't ever see myself going beyond that.

Besides, someone else already managed to complete something like this, and while I'm not a fan, I don't need to be. At this point, Dicebenders is dead. I'm glad I tried it, and it's a shame it didn't work out, but I'm happy with the other projects I've done instead.

I am squatting on an empty Tumblr for it, though.

Anyway, to share something new, here's the first section of the Story Bible I wrote to make sure Capt-BA and I were on the same page in terms of characterization. The rest of the bible details the plotlines for full series.

AVATAR: THE LAST DICEBENDER

BIBLE

Premise- A small group of players attempt to run a fantasy martial arts RPG that winds up essentially becoming the Avatar saga, or something very close. The main point of the series is comedy, based mostly on ridiculous links between Avatar and RPG's. Sometimes the humor will be in the vast difference between what happens in the comic, and what happens in the cartoon with the same screenshots. Other times, the funny will come from the unexpected ways they converge.

SPIRITUAL PREDECESSORS

DM of the Rings- The original, and my personal favorite. It's a good showcase of how to run a single quest together, while using narrative jumps to skip to the good bits.

Darths & Droids- A similar project, this stands out from its predecessor in two main ways. The players and GM are more friendly with each other, and are more or less having fun with each other. There is also a running, coherent storyline in both the game and in the lives of the players.

Benders & Brawlers- This is actually an existing attempt to do Darths & Droids with Avatar. This is helpful as an example of what we DON'T want to do, retell the Avatar story in a completely straightforward manner, with RPG players behind the characters.

CHARACTERS

None of the characters will be given real names. The players shall always be referred to by their character names, although this can be done in a teasing, ironic manner. When the characters are speaking, their dialogue bubble must always be attached to an image of the character.

The Gamemaster- The GM is a female in her early teens. She is a geek, and a bit of a social outcast for it. Nevertheless, she's trying to make that work for her, although she's not quite mature enough to make it happen yet. She has just discovered RPG's, and in her enthusiasm has gone all out in starting her own campaign. The only problem is that she doesn't know how to recruit players, so she ropes her best friend and little brother into playing with her. This is the GM's first campaign, so she'll a little in over her head. She knows the mechanics of play, and what she's supposed to be doing as GM, but doesn't have the fine skill in crafting an engaging RPG experience. Still, she wants to do her best, is willing to learn, and has a positive attitude about the whole thing. The GM has a strong crush on the Sokka player, but the only way she can express it is by having all the female NPC's flirt with the Sokka character.

Katara- Female in early teens, and the GM's best friend. Katara's player was friends with the GM from when they were both in grammar school, so while they have grown up into wildly different personality types, they are fully loyal to each other. Katara is popular, and outgoing, and doesn't care or know about geek stuff at all. She's only playing the game because the GM begged her to. At first, Katara is clueless about RPG's, and frequently questions or ridicules the mechanics of the game. She never quite gets into the idea of role-playing, but quickly takes to the idea of meta-gaming. She'll have her character act like a righteous do-gooder, because completing missions and fighting bad guys earns XP. She hoards items that will boost her stats. She'll advocate abandoning a mission/plot if it doesn't pay out enough rewards. Katara's player also can tend towards trying to Mary Sue her character, but this is inconsistent and usually shot down by everyone else.

Aang- Male in junior high, and the GM's little brother. He plays simply because his sister has cajoled him into it, and there are hints that he's getting some kind of reward or payment for it. He abuses his position by forcing the GM to give him what he wants in the game, even if it breaks the rules- access to the restricted Airbender class, the ability to bend all four elements, overloaded stats, an Avatar State that protects him from dying, a magic super flying cow ride, etc. However, it's important to note that Aang's player isn't a jerk. He's just immature, and like all kids, just always goes for what he wants via the easiest path, and doesn't realize that he may be causing trouble or hurting feelings. He's enthusiastic about trying out this RPG thing, but he has trouble coming up with any action beyond attacking or retreating. He's also hyper aware that the GM and Katara are girls. He is too old for cootie concerns, but thinks that girls are fundamentally different creatures with their own incomprehensible concerns. Having a big sister, he doesn't find this a big deal, just part of life. Aang's player is too young to be a geek. He likes cartoons and sports and fantasy and school-dramas. He also tends to follow whatever his sister likes.

Sokka- Male in late teens. This guy is your quintessential RPG player. He has is own top-quality dice, he's played campaigns and systems of all kinds, and knows the tropes of the hobby cold. He's a huge geek for all things geeky, but roleplay is easily his favorite. He's a social outcast, but he's made friends among his fellow geeks, and thinks life is just fine. Sokka's player joins when he meets the GM at the comic/games shop they both frequent. The GM was buying some sourcebooks and material to support the fantasy martial arts game she's running, and Sokka noticed, asked about it, liked what he heard, and got permission to join the game. What Sokka doesn't realize, because he is a geek and neither has experience with it or realizes it's even possible, is that the GM is sweet on him. This manifests in the character Sokka's canon luck with the ladies, only kicked up a notch. *Every single* female NPC flirts with him, whether it's appropriate or not. Sometimes player Sokka notices and tries to roleplay it, and sometimes he's just plain confused. Sokka has a few quirks. His best set of dice are his Lucky Red Dice, which always roll high when he needs it, but have been tested and proven to be fair dice. He also mandates that every character he plays use a boomerang; he was turned into a geek by the first video game he ever played, a Legend of Zelda title, and his favorite weapon from those games are the boomerang. Each of his characters has a unique, named boomerang.

Zuko- The GM's favorite NPC. She created him to be a compelling, dramatic character, with a complicated back story, moral struggles, badass loner personality, angst about his existence, a darkly noble quality, and a cool scar. The GM intended Katara to get to know Zuko, for her to try to woo him away from the side of evil, and perhaps to even have a romance with him. The PC's, however, couldn't care less about him. To them, he's just another mini-boss, and the fact that most of his character development is happening "off screen" means they don't realize that he's recruitable. A frequent gag is Zuko delivering a stirring monologue while no one pays attention.

Iroh- Background NPC. The GM tries to use him to give (ignored) hints to the players.

Toph- (tentative) A male munchkin gamer who picked a long list of weaknesses in order to get superbending. Toph's player is a friend of Sokka's player, brought in after an "incident" with his old group, and causes some initial resentment in the group when tries to show the n00bs how its done. Cowing Toph's player is a major victory for the GM.

Momo- NPC, but maybe make him a talking sidekick who gives the players hints when the GM is really exasperated?

Azula- the GM's best favorite villain. Azula is the GM unleashed, letting her take out frustrations on the players in both combat and harsh taunting. Eventually the GM comes to like the character so much, she retcons mental health issues into the character's backstory, and has her pet NPC, Zuko, spare her.

[satonthelotuspier]

Truly Indomitable

I’m still here! Honestly, I’m still writing, I just haven’t posted much to tumblr recently for various reasons. I’m still quite active on twitter and AO3 though, for anyone who’s interested, links on my blog header.

That being said, I finally got around to writing the post canon golden core rejection fic I talked about many moons ago. This is endgame Xicheng with some Yunmeng Shuangjie reconciliation (because once you’ve written one rec, you need to write more). There is a pre-fic to this I wrote for the Untamed Spring Fest back in April or May, its been so long I can’t remember when it was (2020 has been A Year right?) but the odds of me being able to find it with tumblr like it is...(it’s series linked on AO3 if anyone is interested)

15k+ words with a happy ending.

Introducing Jiang Cheng’s Vipers.

CW for: Body dysphoria, blood, past torture, MC peril, discussions on death.

“Jiang-zongzhu!” Jiang Cheng heard the call, and ducked behind a tree to avoid one of myriad people who had been bustling for his attention over the past day.

Was there little wonder, with the kind of hassle he was subjected to when attending conferences like this, he was virtually becoming a hermit in Lotus Pier most of the time?

If it wasn’t sect leaders looking to curry favour, or arrange marriages with their daughters (even though he was officially persona non gratis in the eyes of most female cultivators now, due to one or two...unfortunate – yet highly convenient...mishaps,) it was Wei Wuxian and his horde of adoring ducklings, after permission for Jin Ling to join them on this adventure or that adventure. As if the little shit didn’t do as he pleased and paid no attention to Jiang Cheng’s opinions, anyway.

Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, his nephew was the Jin sect leader now, after all, and if he could continue to show that kind of spine in that role, all the better.

He froze, his musings halted, as his body temperature rose suddenly, and he automatically dropped to the ground, placing the bottle of contraband Emperor’s Smile beside him, and tried to clear his mind.

He rarely got much pre-warning when it happened, but he never had, and twenty or so years later, he was more than used to dealing with it.

It began with the increase in temperature, and then the qi began to roll through his channels, burning like fire as it surged and flowed, molten and rampant.

It was the usual mixture of meditation methods Lei Shirong, his sect physician, had vaunted, and force of implacable will, that he eventually quelled the tide, though he knew it was becoming harder and harder for him to gain control as time went by.

He had suffered periodically from the same issue since he had been a young man.

He had initially thought the problem was attributable to the fact he had been given a new golden core, and he just needed time to grow used to it, it hadn’t been the one he formed himself, after all, and was one Baoshan Sanren had given him, with all the implications that had.

No matter how long he’d waited, however, no matter how much he’d worked to bed the new core in, it had always felt like something alien in his body, something uncomfortable, painful, and always unpredictable. Several times, usually in the midst of battle, where he called on his spiritual energy for extended periods of time, he had completely lost control. Once, he had been saved by Lan Xichen, who had carried him away from a Sunshot campaign battlefield and settled his meridians with his own spiritual energy.

When the fact that it was actually Wei Wuxian’s core, rotating behind is lower dantian, had been revealed, it was like everything clicked into place.

How could the core behave like his own, when it had been formed by his shixiong, who was as different from Jiang Cheng as day was to night?

The fact it had been so many years, and it had still not been fully responsive to him, still felt like a stone in his gut, now made sense to him.

And since the Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng had felt it suddenly spiral out of control with much more frequency, and it was becoming harder each time to steady that surging tide of qi.

It had never been meant for his body, so how could it behave as if it had?

How could he control it as if it had?

He placed an open palm against his navel, where the core twisted and churned behind his dantian.

It was only a matter of time now, surely, before it reached the point he couldn’t settle it’s reaction. It wasn’t exactly caused by qi deviation, but he thought the outcome would likely be the same.

Hopefully he had a little more time, to make sure Jin Ling was secure as Jin Sect Leader, and make arrangements for the succession of his clan. There were several promising candidates who he could add to his family registry, to ensure the clan he had given everything for, survived after he was gone. Not least his physician, Lei Shirong, or his head disciple, Yang Hai, or his sister, Yang Mei. All were extremely competent, intelligent members of his sect. All were strong cultivators in their own right. And all were unfailingly loyal to Yunmeng Jiang.

He was climbing back to his feet, intending to return to his accommodations and continue his quest to get drunk, when the strident call of; “Jiang Cheng!” had his hackles rising.

Not Wei Wuxian, not now. He genuinely didn’t think he could face the man knowing his body was making the final move towards rejecting the core his shixiong had sacrificed everything to give him.

Wanted or not, it had cost Wei Wuxian so much, he couldn’t look him in the eye and pretend everything was fine at the moment, so he scooped up the jar of Emperor’s Smile, and slipped carefully deeper into the shadows. He found himself in a courtyard surrounded by residences. They were all dark and unlit, silent, probably empty. It wasn’t yet the designated Lan sleeping time, so he thought he had fallen lucky, and, at the sound of Wei Wuxian’s quick, heavy tread still approaching, he did the only thing possible, and slipped over the windowsill of one of the empty buildings, intending to wait Wei Wuxian out.

He settled himself on the floor next to window, and removed the seal on the jar, tipping it up and taking a deep drink. He might as well wait in style.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” a rich, timbred voice sounded from out of the darkness, and the lamps placed around the room suddenly leapt to life, illuminating the sparsely, yet elegantly, furnished rooms, “it’s very kind of you to drop by, quite literally. Altough, I believe it’s customary to wait to be invited.”

He was frozen for a few beats of his heart, which then began rabbiting in his chest thanks to the shock of hearing a voice from the darkness.

How in the world had he been stupid enough, unlucky enough, to accidentally breach the Hanshi; who’s master was currently in seclusion after the events of the Guanyin Temple?

Could he have made a bigger mistake if he’d tried?

The elder man was currently hidden from his sight, sat behind a screen which partitioned off that side of the rooms, and the gentle click of a tea cup being placed on a lacquered table sounded.

“Lan-zongzhu…” he was about to offer his apologies, but heard Wei Wuxian’s still-loud voice from somewhere outside the Hanshi.

“Jiang Cheng! I know you’re here somewhere.”

Lan Xichen murmured an understanding, “Ah,” then remained silent for a while, until they were both sure Wei Wuxian had moved his search on elsewhere.

“Lan-zongzhu, I apologise unreservedly for intruding on your seclusion.” It was now time for him to salvage what he could out of the encounter, and beg for forgiveness.

There was a few moments before the other answered, “No harm done. Perhaps, if you will, merely stay that side of the screen. I assume you wish to wait a while to ensure Wei-gongzi is well and truly gone?”

He flushed a little at the other reading him so very easily, but there was no use denying he had been avoiding that man, like a coward.

“Then I’ll trouble you for a little while longer.” He couldn’t deny it, however, and there was nothing for it other than to accept the elder man’s generous offer.

He lifted the jar in his hands to take another deep, settling drink. Except he had forgotten…

“Jiang Wanyin, is that Emperor’s Smile that you’re drinking, in the Sect Master of the Lan sect’s private rooms, which you have just breached, without permission?”

Suddenly, he was a fifteen year old boy again, caught in the process of sneaking Emperor’s Smile into the Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian, and he felt the flush creep up his neck as he put the earthenware jar back on the floor like it had suddenly become red hot to the touch.

Luckily Lan Xichen couldn’t currently see his blushes of shame.

He also couldn’t see that the jar Jiang Cheng held was Emperors Smile. He could just lie.

But that felt very wrong to him, so he made a non-committal sound, to which Lan Xichen chuckled gently in response.

“Some things never change.” Lan Xichen said, a hint of something like nostalgia in his tone, then; “And some things change completely.” And then he was silent.

Jiang Cheng didn’t feel like breaking that silence. He was, after all, intruding on the man’s seclusion. So he sat there for a while, making no sound. He was therefore surprised when eventually Lan Xichen was the one to speak. He had been on the verge of getting up to leave, but Lan Xichen’s voice made him pause.

“How is Jin Rulan fairing, Jiang-zongzhu?”

Jiang Cheng was thrown, and wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. Well, he obviously knew how Jin Ling was fairing, but he didn’t know how much it would be sensible to refer to the Guanyin Temple, it was, after all, what had driven Lan Xichen into secluded meditation, all those months ago. He played for a little time to order his thoughts.

“How is it I was Jiang-zongzhu, then Jiang Wanyin, then back again, in the space of minutes?”

“Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Xichen took the hint, and settled on the less formal mode of address. Alone together in the Hanshi, it made the most sense.

He had decided, in the precious extra seconds the comment had bought him, that there was no point prevaricating. Once the other exited seclusion, the world couldn't be expected to never bring up the subject in front of him ever again.

“It was a blow to him, no doubt. It’s taken a lot of adjusting for him, and the weight of a sect leader sits heavily on his shoulders, he’s so young…”

Even younger than Lan Xichen had been, than Jiang Cheng had been, when they had taken over their respective clans.

“I thought we were done with a world that forced it’s children to grow up as quickly as we had to, when the Wens fell. That I was party to that…that I enabled it…” there was a catch to his voice.

And there was a part of Jiang Cheng that uncharitably thought Lan Xichen should suffer for his guilt, but that was the part of him that had watched, powerless and vulnerable, in the Guanyin Temple, as everyone in the world that he cared about, was put in danger at the hands of Jin Guangyao. Considering his past, no one could have blamed him for his fear for them.

But he also understood what kind of a person Lan Xichen was, and it was a good person. He had a lot of advantages in life, there wasn’t a doubt about that; he came from one of the richest sects in the world, he was an extremely powerful cultivator, he was impossibly handsome, and he could be whatever he wanted, but he was still a genuinely kind person. And they were so very rare.

He knew, in his heart, that Lan Xichen couldn’t be held accountable for Jin Guangyao’s villainy; the man had fooled the entire world for years, with his dazzling dimples and accommodating smile. Jin Guangyao alone was responsible for what had happened. And there would have been no guarantee that his twisted little snake mind wouldn’t have found some way to remove Lan Xichen, if his naivety hadn’t left him blind to what the Chief Cultivator was doing.

Really, the twists and turns of that man’s plots didn’t bear trying to follow, someone as straightforward as Jiang Cheng just couldn’t fathom him.

And he was glad for that.

He might not be perfect when compared to Jin Guangyao’s perceived perfection, he might be rough around the edges when compared to Jin Guangyao’s smoothness, his forcefulness might have looked overbearing when compared to Jin Guangyao’s subtle misdirection, but people got what they saw with Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng was a blunt instrument compared to Jin Guangyao’s sharp little dagger.

Did it make him a better person? He couldn’t say. And he didn’t care much anymore.

Would he have preferred that his nephew was able to be a carefree child for longer? Yes. Of course. Although, since his cousin’s death there had always been an understanding that he was the heir to the Jin sect, and had been treated as such, trained as such. Jiang Cheng knew from personal experience that the heir to a sect only had so much freedom to be a child.

But Jin Ling would be fine. He was strong. He would be fine. He had Wei Wuxian now, and his friends, when Jiang Cheng was gone.

He wet his lips with his tongue. Despite the fact he tried to consider the positives, the thought of leaving Jin Ling alone, like so many others of his family had, tasted sour on his tongue.

There wasn’t much he could do about it, however, the core inside him was a measure of his mortality, and when that measure ran out...

They had drifted into unhappy silence again, each man lost to the abyss of his own negative thoughts.

To try to distract himself, Jiang Cheng picked up the jar, and raised it to his lips. He glanced at the screen, trying to imagine the expression the Jade might be wearing on the other side.

“He seems to have made some firm friends out of the experience, however,” Jiang Cheng said, suddenly uncomfortable at the lack of discussion, “I’m glad. It was something he never had growing up, and it was something I could never give him. I could protect him, and teach him, and be his uncle, but I could never be his confidante, or his peer.”

“The younger generation don’t want old relics like us spoiling their fun.” There was a hint of a smile back in Lan Xichen’s voice.

“Just so.” Jiang Cheng agreed. Wei Wuxian, with his breezy personality and easy charm, however, would tame the birds from the trees.

He was just the kind of “uncle” teenagers would find fun.

He settled back against the wall, and, giving the Emperor’s Smile the attention it deserved, began to recount one of the many incidents he could remember from their time at the Cloud Recesses, where they had gotten into trouble, mostly at Wei Wuxian’s fault for the famed alcohol.

He was feeling a little nostalgic, a little melancholic, and perhaps, a little mellow.

Jin Ling would probably be surprised he was capable of the latter.

“In your honest opinion, is it to be as vaunted as Wei Wuxian would have us believe?” Lan Xichen asked as his low laughter faded.

Jiang Cheng took another mouthful and savoured the taste, considering Lan Xichen’s question.

“Perhaps. It’s very smooth. But Wei Wuxian always had a better head for this kind of thing than I do.”

He had drunk as a youngster to keep up with Wei Wuxian, who had always had more of a taste for alcohol than the young Jiang Cheng. Now, he occasionally overindulged to numb and forget for a while.

“Did it never bother you, growing up with so many rules? Being expected to be so damn perfect all the time?” Perhaps it was the Emperor’s Smile that loosened his tongue enough to ask Lan Xichen that very personal question.

“You of all people know as much as I that a sect leader in waiting is expected to be so much more than any other children of the sect, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen answered, eventually, his voice low. And the use of his courtesy name on it’s own caused the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end. “But I learned a lot earlier than Wangji it was possible that, while some rules should be considered absolute, others we can learn to bend sometimes, if necessary.”

It was a fair comment, Lan Wangji had been a stickler for rules and order back then. Much less so now, if it came to his beloved Wei Wuxian. Whereas Lan Xichen never seemed to see the world is such shades of black and white. Perhaps it would have been kinder if he had, and hadn’t been quite so accepting of Jin Guangyao’s grey. Perhaps not.

The evening had drawn on, and it was only as Jiang Cheng heard the other stifling a yawn that he realised his intrusion had kept Lan Xichen up beyond his clan’s sleeping

time.

It appeared Lan Xichen still bent those rules when the need arose.

He climbed to his feet, “My apologies, Lan Xichen, it appears as well as being rude enough to trespass on your seclusion, I’ve intruded upon your rest as well. I appreciate your kind, if unwillingly provided, hospitality.”

“Jiang Wanyin, I’ve enjoyed having your company, perhaps you could visit with me again before you’re due to leave.”

“I’m sure you’re merely being kind, and I thank you for it, I would hope not to disturb you again, and bid you a good night”

“Quite the contrary, I would be very happy if you did, Jiang Wanyin. Goodnight, sleep well.”

He took his leave.

He wasn’t sure if it was the numbing effect of the alcohol, but he did, indeed, sleep well that evening.

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

The unusual feeling of being well-rested stayed with Jiang Cheng for most of the rest of the next day. The morning was taken up with routine discussions, and the afternoon was set aside for a joint hunt.

As a sect leader Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be taking part, and he intended to take the opportunity to meet with Jin Ling on his own, and press him on how he was faring, as his friends would all be busy in the activities.

He would search Jin Ling out after he had seen Yang Mei and Yang Hai on their way as Yunmeng Jiang representatives in the same.

To that end they made their way towards the front gate, where the party would be forming.

Yang Hai was recounting the news from Lotus Pier, that he had received via dispatch that morning, but Jiang Cheng, unusually, only half paid attention to him, the other part of his mind had wandered to Lan Xichen’s words of the previous evening. He wondered if he could take them at face value, or whether Lan Xichen was merely being polite?

He had sounded genuine. But Jiang Cheng, as ever, didn’t always trust his ability to read people.

He was jerked out of his thoughts at the sudden appearance of Wei Wuxian, annoyed and frowning.

“Jiang Cheng!”

“Shit.” He didn’t realise he’d verbalised the curse, until Yang Mei stepped forward and into Wei Wuxian’s path.

“Wei-gongzi, Jiang-zongzhu is particularly busy at the moment, perhaps you would like to make an appointment, if there is something you wish to discuss.”

“Jiang Cheng can stop pretending to be too busy to talk to me, and face me like a man.” Wei Wuxian said it mockingly, like he always had. Unfortunately he was now walking among people who didn’t understand his, admittedly trying, character. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been part of Yunmeng Jiang for too many years. Then, he made the mistake of reaching out to take her by the shoulders, intending to move her to one side, so he could pass her to reach Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng of course expected the series of events, and moved quickly to enact what damage control he could. He was between Wei Wuxian and Yang Mei in an instant.

Behind him, the air crackled as two identical navy-coloured whips appeared in Yang Mei’s and Yang Hai’s hands, but Jiang Cheng spread his arm, hand flat and indicating they should stay back as he also raised Sandu, hilt reversed in his hand, to catch Bichen’s forward thrust.

He knew Lan Wangji wouldn’t have moved to kill, and merely reacted to defend Wei Wuxian, but he was also aware Yang Mei and Yang Hai didn’t particularly like Lan Wangji. They were loyal to a fault to Jiang Cheng, and his less than harmonious relationship with Wei Wuxian’s husband was no secret to anyone in the cultivational world. He didn’t know how they would react to the perceived threat. Therefore, he put himself between them before they could all find out.

The greater part of him hoped Lan Wangji would recognise his actions as the de-escalation they had been, but there was a small, secret, part of himself that wished he wouldn’t, Sandu had never been tested against Bichen, and it was a battle that was probably long overdue.

Considering his own impending mortality, it wasn’t really a battle he could lose.

They were all frozen in the odd tableau for a few beats of the heart, before Wei Wuxian, who had been shocked at the demonstration of the twins’ link to his mother’s clan, turned to take Lan Wangji’s wrist, and pull it back, “Lan Zhan,” he said soothingly, and Lan Wangji took his eyes off of Jiang Cheng to look at Wei Wuxian.

Weak, to take your eyes from an enemy, but what was love if it wasn’t a weakness they all shared?

“I shouldn’t have laid hands on one of Jiang Cheng’s Spiders.” Wei Wuxian continued, and Lan Wangji withdrew Bichen after a few seconds, with a nod of agreement.

Jiang Cheng sheathed Sandu, and the pressure in the air behind him indicated the Yangs’ spiritual weapons had also been dismissed.

“We need to go, or we’ll be late.” Jiang Cheng stood back, and turned to Yang Mei, who nodded, and fell into step with her brother, at Jiang Cheng’s shoulders.

“Why are you avoiding me, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian called after him.

He stopped short, and turned, temper flaring. Even now, the things he did for Wei Wuxian were never enough of him. “Wei Wuxian, you said everything was settled, and we should forget the past and go our own way. You don’t get to yank at me for your amusement, like I’m a dog on a rope. If you wish to speak to me on sect business, make an appointment, like everyone else.” And he spun on his heel and marched off, his Vipers in tow.

His mother had had her Spiders, and Jiang Cheng had his Vipers, sent by his relatives in Meishan Yu shortly after the Siege of the Burial Mounds, the twins had their orders to assimilate into the Jiang sect and protect him, as Yinzhu and Jinzhu had for his A-Niang. They had quickly earned positions as his most trusted disciples.

“Foul-tempered wretch.” Wei Wuxian called at his retreating back.

But he ignored it, Wei Wuxian wanted him to react, to interact. Wei Wuxian didn’t deserve that from him anymore.

“Jiang-zongzhu-,” Yang Hai began to question.

“We have somewhere to be,” he repeated, and that was the end of the matter.

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

Later than evening, and for some unknown reason, he found himself in the Hanshi’s courtyard again.

He had another jar of Emperor’s Smile tucked into the crook of his arm, and he made his way up the steps, and decided entering through the window two nights in succession was pushing his luck. He sat, instead, beneath the window, on the verandah.

It was a relatively warm evening for the time of year, although the mountains of Gusu were always significantly cooler than the lakes of Yunmeng.

Jiang Cheng found it quite soothing to be there though, and unstopped the jar of alcohol, drinking deeply.

There was a soft sound from inside, and Jiang Cheng thought it was likely Lan Xichen sitting on the floor beneath the window, mirroring Jiang Cheng’s posture through the wall.

“You came, Wanyin.”

He made a non-committal sound; but he was a little embarrassed at how happy Lan Xichen sounded about that. He had returned, but he really didn’t know why, except that the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that Lan Xichen’s invitation had been a definite request, rather than a suggestion. It wasn’t too much to believe the other had become very lonely in seclusion, and perhaps he was now working towards re-entering society, chatting with Jiang Cheng might be Lan Xichen beginning to interact with the wider world again, in a situation that was still relatively safe for him.

“I was passing, drinking my Emperor’s Smile.” He said it almost challengingly, but Lan Xichen let it pass, as Jiang Cheng had expected him to.

They talked on lighter subjects that the previous evening, it was pleasant and undemanding, to sit and talk about things that didn’t matter in the slightest. This was something Jiang Cheng had never really had. Not since he’d lost his A-Jie and his Shixiong had Jiang Cheng had anyone to talk about anything but the most important matters. He knew that was his own fault, and due to the nature of his personality; he wasn’t easygoing or personable like Wei Wuxian was. He never had been, he had always tended more towards shyness, and seriousness as a boy, even despite Wei Wuxian’s best efforts to change that, and as a man, the seriousness hadn’t changed, but he had become cold, closed off, as a defence. He had lost too much to let anyone else in.

That evening Jiang Cheng excused himself again at the point that it became obvious Lan Xichen was flagging and ready to sleep. Again, the other expressed his hope that they could continue at a later date, and Jiang Cheng again wondered at anyone choosing to spend their time with him.

He wasn’t much of a charming conversationalist, he wasn’t erudite, or witty, but still Lan Xichen had asked him to return.

It became a regular meeting, this faceless companionship through the open window of the Hanshi, some evenings they talked of nothing at all of worth, and others they touched on more delicate, important subjects. It was almost like some form of mutual therapy.

Except Jiang Cheng never touched upon the most important subject of what was happening with his core.

Beyond Lei Shirong, his sect physician, Lan Xichen probably was the closest to knowing about the issue. Not even Wei Wuxian himself knew Jiang Cheng had suffered losses of control, as he had sworn the other two to complete secrecy on the matter. Not that Lan Xichen had reason to believe it had been anything more than a qi deviation he had rescued Jiang Cheng from.

That over the last few days there had been several more instances was a good indication that the core was becoming increasingly unstable. It was likely only a matter of time until he actually went into whatever form of qi deviation it would cause.

He thought he probably ought to return to Lotus Pier. He wanted the end to come in the same place his parents had fallen.

It would be of no real benefit, but it was his wish.

Luckily the conference would only last a few more days, then he could return.

That night, he found Lan Xichen in quite an introspective mood. He spoke more of Jin Guangyao, and how he had tried his best to change the darkness he had always sensed lurked beneath the surface.

Jiang Cheng sympathised, he knew himself how helpless it left a person feeling when someone you cared for began to slip through your fingers, and, like sand, no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it, it only made it trickle away faster.

“I felt so guilty for my part in what happened, for enabling him-,” Lan Xichen paused.

“I don’t think you’d be human if you didn’t feel a sense of guilt, we all do, that we let things happen they way they turn out, even when it isn’t our fault. It’s not unusual.”

They drifted into contemplative silence again. There were very often periods of silence between them, but they didn’t feel uncomfortable, neither felt forced to fill them with pointless noise.

Left to silence, his mind wandered, he had been thinking a lot on the subject of his impending demise recently, and he was again, just full enough of Emperor’s Smile that it had loosened his tongue a little.

“What do you think death is like? Not what you’re told to believe it’s like, what you actually think it’s like?”

The question seemed to have surprised Lan Xichen; he made no immediate response.

“I don’t know,” was the eventual reply, “sometimes I wonder if it might be kinder if there just wasn’t anything, a soul may just find rest in oblivion, unhampered by what it had suffered, and caused to suffer, in life. But that’s also a scary thought, isn’t it? That everything you do, or struggle to be, in this life, doesn’t matter after all. Oblivion isn’t what we strive for as cultivators,.”

Jiang Cheng made a sound of agreement.

“Perhaps this would be a discussion best had with Wei Wuxian-,”

“No.” He realised as soon as he spoke the single denial it was too forceful, too much. “No need to bother him, it was merely a musing.”

Silence again.

Then, “I take it things are still...difficult between you and your shixiong, Wanyin.”

He let the shixiong pass, “We’re different people now, Lan Xichen, that’s all. Wei Wuxian left that life behind him.” He stood up. He knew it was earlier than any of their previous evenings had ended, and he knew it was running away. But there were some things he wasn’t equipped to deal with. And Wei Wuxian, was one of them. “You’ll excuse me, I have an early start tomorrow. There’s still much to get through before the end of the conference. Good night, Xichen.”

“Good night.” Gods, why did that touch of sadness tug so much at Jiang Cheng’s heart? Like a kicked puppy, and if puppies weren’t Jiang Cheng’s biggest weakness. “I’m sorry if I overstepped any boudaries. Sleep well, Wanyin.”

“I-,” he had no idea what he had been about to say, Lan Xichen hadn’t really overstepped, but he was so sensitive on the subject of Wei Wuxian. He closed his eyes; he didn’t know how to extract himself out of this situation without hurting either Lan Xichen, or himself. In the end, he made the same decision he always had when the choice was his, and chose himself. “You didn’t overstep, I’m sorry I’m so-,”

“Don’t, Wanyin. You don’t owe anyone anything you aren’t willing to give. I’m sure you really are busy tomorrow. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to forgive me, and come again tomorrow evening. I know your time is limited, and the conference ends shortly.”

Lan Xichen really was too kind for this world of theirs.

“I’ll do my best.” It was so easy to give such a promise to Lan Xichen. “Sleep well, Xichen.”

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

There was no disguising from himself that Lan Xichen was on tenterhooks after their awkward parting the previous evening. He spent a lot of the following day wondering how it was possible he had become so very dependent on the company of Jiang Wanyin, in such a very short time.

While they had always been cordial in the past, they were never particularly close. Lan Xichen was ashamed to remember he had been too tied up in his brotherhood with Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, too focussed on trying to help them, to pay very much mind to the young man in Yunmeng who had lost virtually everything, and still limped on, dragging his sect up from the remains of Lotus Pier, by the sheer force of his hard work and will, to return as one of the strongest, most influential sects in the world.

He had been considering for a while, before Jiang Cheng had crashed through his window to avoid Wei Wuxian, that he would shortly start making a move to leave seclusion. He thought he had taken away what measure of peace, and atonement, he could from the process. He knew from personal experience with his father, that when a Lan entered seclusion, the people left on the outside were hurt the most, carrying on the burden, and therefore it had only ever been intended to be a temporary measure for him, to reflect on and repent for his own part in the villainy Jin Guangyao had undertaken, and to mourn for Nie Mingjue properly.

The Jiang Sect leader had smashed into his seclusion, and, with his personality, an odd mixture of sarcasm, matter-of-factness, pragmatism, humour and cutting insight, had reminded Lan Xichen that life was for the living, and there was a world outside the Hanshi, and it wasn’t all bad.

And he had accidentally stepped into a hornets nest last night, and hurt Jiang Wanyin, which he would never wish to do.

What if Jiang Wanyin hadn’t forgiven him? What if he didn’t come back tonight?

Lan Xichen gnawed on his lower lip, glancing at the door to the Hanshi. He could visit Jiang Wanyin, and apologise again, if needed. If he left the Hanshi.

He began pacing as the evening mealtime passed, and the time approached that Jiang Wanyin had normally arrived outside his window, with his jar of Emperor’s Smile.

Nothing. The time came and passed.

He paced a little more.

But it grew obvious Jiang Wanyin wasn’t coming.

He could genuinely be too busy, sect leaders were greatly in demanding during discussion conferences, especially from the larger sects, as lesser sects jostled and fought for a little of their time. Jiang Wanyin was also a very eligible bachelor, despite, as he understood it, most female cultivators having put him on a blacklist.

More fool them.

He paused in his pacing as he examined the thought.

Yes, Jiang Wanyin was a catch. But one had to look beneath the tough exterior, the facade, the defence, to the man underneath.

Something he doubted Jiang Wanyin himself wanted people to do. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the other had ended up on this “blacklist” through his own machinations. While the other was blunt, and had a temper, he had still been raised a statesman, politically aware, and he doubted anyone, female or otherwise, would have the power to make Jiang Cheng say, or do anything, that would put him under their scorn, without him meaning to. It just didn’t make any sense.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He would almost want to be a fly on the wall, to see how the gruff Jiang Cheng play-bumbled his way into a woman’s bad graces over the course of an afternoon, or evening.

His paused, and licked his lips. Much like he had, accidentally? In upsetting Jiang Wanyin?

He lost his smile, and moved to shrug into an outer robe. He would just pay Jiang Wanyin a visit. He would likely find the other was actually busy with sect business, and be able to return to the Hanshi, his conscience clear.

Jiang Wanyin didn’t owe him anything, but he did value the sort of companionship they had fallen into over the past evenings.

He of course realised the flaw in his plan as soon as he left the sheltered private clan areas around the Hanshi; he’d had no input into the planning for this event, and he had absolutely no idea where Jiang Wanyin might be located.

Except, it seemed, luck was on his side, as he saw a pair approaching in what were obviously Yunmeng Jiang colours.

The pair noticed him almost at the same time as he noticed them, and they paused, covering their shock up quickly.

He vaguely recognised the pair, always at Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder during other night hunts and conferences.

“Yang-gongzi, and Yang-guniang.” He dug their names out of his memory, Jiang Wanyin wasn’t the only one who’d been groomed to have all these little tricks at his disposal, Lan Xichen had received just as rigorous an education in politics and people pleasing.

“Lan-zongzhu.” The twins greeted him in perfect unison.

“What a fortuitous meeting, I wonder if you can direct me to Jiang-zongzhu’s accommodations? I wasn’t party to the arrangements this time, for obvious reasons.”

They both paused, their respect for another sect’s leader, and their host one at that, fighting against their well known preciousness over their own sect leader.

“We have an appointment.” He smiled. It was only bending the truth slightly, he had come to think of their evening meetings as a set thing, even if Jiang Wanyin hadn’t. And it worked in breaking the pair’s reluctance.

“Jiang-zongzhu was assigned the house next to the magnolia tree, Lan-zongzhu.” Yang Hai gestured in the direction, “please allow us to accompany you,” and Lan Xichen lowered his head in thanks and acknowledgement of their joint bows.

He set off, trailed by the Yang twins, and soon arrived at the residence Jiang Wanyin was currently in possession of.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, at the sound of a sword tearing through the air and burying in something wooden, from inside the house.

He drew Shuoyue automatically, and heard the swords of Yang Mei and Yang Hai slide out of their scabbards behind him, along with the crackle of Meishan Yu spiritual whips.

“Jiang Wanyin?” he called out, half warning that he was outside and intended to enter, half hoping the other would just call out to acknowledge them, and provide a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there was a sudden breaking of something like pottery. And then something flew through the window and smashed into a hundred pieces in the courtyard. It had been a small table.

He could wait no longer.

“Jiang Wanyin!” He dashed up the stairs, and into the residence, the Yangs barely a footstep behind him.

He paused just inside the completely destroyed interior, and sucked a breath in.

Jiang Wanyin stood in the middle of his rooms, he was surrounded by the debris of what had been a table and tea set.

There might have been some confusion over what had happened, except Jiang Wanyin had Sandu in his hand, and Zidian was active.

Blood had begun to leak from his nose, and the corner of his mouth, probably only the start.

He spun to face the door at the sound of the new arrivals, and, not even pausing to identify who the intruders were, swung Zidian.

Lan Xichen had no time to hope he wasn’t too rusty, no time to think. He countered Zidian with the flash of a sword glare, and summoned Liebing.

Except he hesitated at the thought of playing Song of Cleansing, after recognising the qi deviation for what it was. It was a fatal pause. Or it would have been, if Yang Hai’s sword hadn’t flashed over his shoulder to catch and deflect Sandu.

It shocked him out of his indecision, “Use your whips to hold him.” Liebing was returned to the ether, and he raised Shuoyue again defensively.

Although Jiang Cheng was stronger due to the qi running rampant through his channels, he had no control, and stood no chance against three highly trained cultivators, and was soon trapped in the coils of identical navy whips.

As he struggled the first trails of blood collected in the corners of his eyes, and began to roll down his cheeks like tears.

Lan Xichen swallowed. He hadn’t been there, of course, when Nie Mingjue had qi deviated, but it was still a harsh reminder of what had happened to him. He was determined he wouldn’t lose another friend to this.

Decisively, Lan Xichen stepped forward, placed a palm against the struggling Jiang Wanyin’s chest, over his middle dantian, and began to feed qi into the other, quelling and reversing the surging tides causing the other to deviate.

It was no easy thing to achieve, either, the tides were fierce.

Jiang Wanyin eventually lost consciousness, and Yang Hai caught him as he fell. The Yangs’ whips were both dismissed, and between the three of them, then managed to carry the unconscious sect leader to the bed, where he was placed comfortably on top of the blankets.

“I’ll summon a physician.” He left them briefly, to waylay the first Lan disciple he came across, and send the boy to collect Xiao Qingyue, despite the fact he nearly tied his own tongue in a knot at having Lan Xichen, last known to be in seclusion, suddenly appear in front of him like this.

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

His head pounded when he woke up. Jiang Cheng raised a hand and pressed his palm to his forehead. He didn’t remember how much he had drunk last night; it didn’t usually affect him enough to give him a hangover, but why else would his head hurt like this?

He pushed himself upright in the bed, and concentrated on trying to stop his head spinning, then he had to work out why he couldn’t really remember the previous evening.

He glanced up, and gaped at the small coven surrounding his bed. Yang Hai and Yang Mei were at the forefront.

“What in all the gods names are you doing hovering over me like that?” his hands automatically went to his chest, to check he was wearing his inner robe and his chest was covered from prying eyes. It was, so that was a worry dealt with. “Is this some kind hazing ritual? Was I meant to wake up naked in the middle of the woods?” As usual, sarcasm was his default setting when he didn’t feel like he had control of the situation.

There was a soft chuckle, which Jiang Cheng couldn’t process at the moment, because his eyes landed on Lei Shirong, stood against the wall with his arms folded, talking with a serious looking woman in Lan sect robes. She didn’t have the cloud motif stitched into her headband, so she wasn’t a blood Lan.

He realised Jiang Cheng was awake, and staring at him, and they both turned to face him.

“How much do you remember, Jiang-zongzhu?” Lei Shirong asked, and he shook his head. Obviously the headache wasn’t caused by a simple overindulgence in alcohol then.

Which meant it had finally happened.

So why wasn’t he dead already?

“Well, considering you were almost certainly back in Lotus Pier at the last point I can remember, I assume it’s been at least a few days.”

Did that mean those present now knew the truth? That he was a walking corpse, just waiting for the end?

The thing that had been tickling at the back of his mind for a few minutes now solidified, and he turned to the owner of the soft chuckle he had heard earlier.

“You’re out of seclusion.” it was a statement, not a question, it was obvious that he was, after all.

“I am. I came to check up on a friend. Just in time, it seems.”

Yang Hai dropped a bow to Jiang Cheng, then Lan Xichen.

“Lan-zongzhu saved your life, Jiang-zongzhu. We’re eternally grateful, Lan-zongzhu.”

Lei Shirong stepped towards the bed then, followed closely by his Lan equivalent, and picked Jiang Cheng’s wrist up, testing his qi flow and meridians.

“Unfortunately, Jiang-zongzhu, I believe it’s time for you to come clean. We can’t ignore it any longer.” Lei Shirong said, as he stepped back, and the Lan sect healer enacted the same examination. He was about to snatch his wrist out of her hands, when he looked up and met her gaze. He settled like a quelled puppy, and she nodded once in congratulation for his sensibility.

He turned back to Lei Shirong. “Even if I did “come clean”, who here would be able to do anything about it, Lei-dafu?” he asked mockingly, then glanced around the others. He was about to comment that he owed none of those gathered here a damn thing in terms of explanation, but he realised he probably did, and the words died. Yang Hai and Yang Mei definitely needed to know, seeing as they were likely due to inherit a sect very shortly. Perhaps even Lan Xichen deserved the truth, having been concerned enough to check up on him, and then rescue him. And he had referred to himself as a friend.

That caused Jiang Cheng an odd kind of feeling.

But he ignored it for now.

“Where is Wei Wuxian?” he asked instead, looking specifically at Lan Xichen.

The other answered immediately, “Wangji and Wei Wuxian left the Cloud Recesses yesterday morning on a night hunt. They weren’t aware you hadn’t already departed for Lotus Pier, we thought you would prefer Wei Wuxian didn’t know.”

He relaxed a little. The last person in the world he wanted to know was Wei Wuxian. And knowing he was out of the way was soothing.

A low sigh of relief left him, before he began, matter-of-factly, “Very shortly after the razing of Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian and I were hiding in Yiling, on the way to Meishan to seek safety with my mother’s people. In the streets, Wen soldiers were searching for us, and Wei Wuxian had gone out to bring food back. I created a diversion, and was taken back to Lotus Pier.” He forced himself not to lay a hand over the scarring on his upper chest, like he wanted to, and to keep his voice neutral. “Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning rescued me later, but it was too late to save my core. Wen Zhuliu was more than worth his title.”

He saw Lan Xichen wince. “The title wasn’t merely grandstanding?”

Jiang Cheng’s laugh was half-hysterical, but he controlled himself again, eventually, “As literal as can be.” Or how else could that worm Wen Chao best the Violet Spider?

“And that was why Wei Wuxian cooked up his insane plan to have Wen Qing transplant his golden core into me. He lied, and told me he had heard that his mother’s Shifu, Baoshan Sanren, could give me a new core. And I, stupid, naive little boy, believed my shixiong, because if it wasn’t true, what did I have left? I didn’t know the truth until after the second siege of the Burial Mounds, but in hindsight, I do wonder how I could have been so blind as to not realise, even once, in all that time.”

Most of those gathered were hearing this information for the first time, only Lan Xichen, who had been at the Guanyin Temple, knew some of it, and Lei Shirong, who he had told the bare minimum to, as his physician.

“Ironically, ever since the operation, the core has been fighting against me. What you thought of as qi deviations, like when you carried me from the battlefield during the Sunshot Campaign, were instances where Wei Wuxian’s core got away from my control. They usually happened after extended periods of calling upon my spiritual energy, but occasionally they happened without anything apparent being the cause. Until recently I was also been able to redirect and quell the qi with a little concentration and effort, however, they’ve become more frequent, and almost impossible to control. The core is going to kill me, sooner or later.”

“You asked me to keep the incident on the Jianglian front from Wei Wuxian all those years ago, Wanyin, are you seriously telling me Wei Wuxian isn’t aware your body has never really accepted his core?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “Telling him his greatest sacrifice was actually a death sentence for me? That would be cruel,” he laughed, because the world probably thought Jiang Wanyin wouldn’t hesitate to be cruel. “And besides, at that time, back on the Jianglian front, I genuinely thought it was this new core that Baoshan Sanren had somehow made, taking time to become used to me, to synchronise with my meridians, channels and dantians. In reality it was never going to, because it was made for Wei Wuxian’s body to use, never mine.”

He settled more comfortably back against the headrest.

There was something almost freeing in finally speaking the truth, as much as it left him exposed and feeling vulnerable.

“Is there really nothing that can be done about it?” Lan Xichen looked at Lei Shirong, who shrugged.

“I’ve been researching for years, Lan-zongzhu. And we never found what happened to Wen Qing’s books after the Sunshot campaign, I did have a hope that after Wei Wuxian found the Jin’s secret treasure room at Jinlin Tai, they may be discovered among the things Jin Guangyao kept there, but they weren’t.”

“Do we have nothing in the Lan Library, Xiao-dafu?” Lan Xichen asked his own sect’s healer, who also shook her head.

“Not even in the forbidden library, Lan-zongzhu, Wen Qing was the theoriser, and the only doctor in the world to perform a Golden Core transplant. The idea is ludicrous on it’s own, without being put into practice. I do wish I could have discussed it with her.”

Lan Xichen rose to his feet, and strode over to stand at the window, looking out into the silent courtyard.

Jiang Cheng threw the covers back, and rose, “Perhaps you could excuse us now, I have some important sect business to take care of.” He turned to Lei Shirong. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring my family registry along with you, did you?”

“It wasn’t foremost in my mind, no.” Lei Shirong replied dryly.

Jiang Cheng frowned at him, and then turned to Lan Xichen, “Perhaps you could be witness and executor for my wishes, then Xichen.”

The other turned back to look at him. Jiang Cheng had almost forgotten how intense those dark amber eyes could become when the Lan sect leader was being serious, focussed. All the time they had spent together since he’d arrived at Cloud Recesses and barrelled unwittingly into the Hanshi, had been without seeing each other face to face.

“Wanyin-.”

“I apologise for having to ask, Xichen, but unlike the Lans, I have no clear blood successor, and have to ensure Yunmeng Jiang will be well cared for after I’m dead. If I make it back to Lotus Pier, I will add Yang Hai and Yang Mei to the registry, it’s my wish my head disciple succeeds me as sect leader upon my death.”

Lan Xichen continued to regard him, “As you wish, Wanyin, I will bear witness to that wish.”

There was something further he wanted to say, but he didn’t know if he could, Jiang Cheng realised, at the look in those eyes.

He waited, never one to push. He had the agreement he wanted, anyway.

“I know of someone who may be able to help. But I don’t know if they would be willing. I’ll dispatch a messenger.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, who could possible help him now? The only person in the world who might have been able to remove the core again had been turned to ashes long ago by the Jins.

Lan Xichen refused to be drawn further on the matter, however, merely begged Jiang Cheng to stay in the Cloud Recesses a little longer.

For Jin Ling’s sake, he agreed. While he may be perfectly ready, willing, and able, to die with equanimity, and at peace with his life, for Jin Ling’s sake he wouldn’t give up. Lan Xichen also promised him that if “things” got much more out of hand before help arrived, he would personally ensure Jiang Cheng was taken back to Lotus Pier to die amongst his ancestors.

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

It was nearly a week later before the one who Lan Xichen had sent a missive to, arrived at Lotus Pier.

In that time there had been a few more incidents, but, with Lan Xichen’s help, they had been kept relatively minor.

It had been trying on Jiang Cheng’s patience, however, that the other had barely left him alone in that time. But he couldn’t complain, as it was to ensure his safety. And at least Lan Xichen wasn’t terrible company. It was just that Jiang Cheng wasn’t used to relying on others, and it was odd to feel the indebtedness to someone else for it.

He frequently fell to wondering, in those days spent waiting, who it was that Lan Xichen thought might be able to help him. And what that help might look like. He was a pragmatic man, and he knew the likeliest form that salvation could take was the complete removal of the golden core. Whatever happened, his life was going to change drastically. He could look on the possibility with equanimity now, something he hadn’t been able to do as a younger man.

He was in a reasonably secure position politically in the current climate, not a refugee running for his life, desperate to avenge the deaths of his parents and sect brothers and sisters, his sect was almost certainly powerful enough to withstand the loss of his personal cultivational power, especially if he maintained good relationships with the other large sects. One of which he was tied to through familial bonds, the other through a childhood friend he was still on reasonable terms with, and the third; well, even though his relationship with Lan Wangji was a fraught one, he thought he and Lan Xichen understood each other quite well now.

The morning was spent in such musings, and sect correspondence. He had already sent Yang Hai back to Lotus Pier, despite his protests. Yang Mei had chosen to remain, despite the assurances there was nothing she would be needed for. Some time in the afternoon a Lan disciple arrived to inform Lan Xichen their guest had arrived, and Lan Xichen rose, Jiang Cheng close on his heels.

“I cannot promise anything, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen paused at the doorway, and turned, to place a holding hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“I’m aware, Xichen. Whatever happens, happens.” He tilted his head a little, gazing into the dark amber depths of Lan Xichen’s, “I’m grateful for your concern, and the fact you’ve done as much as you’re able. I don’t fear my own death at this stage of my life, but I would be incredibly sorry to leave Jin Ling after all he has already lost.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk so cavalierly about your life, Wanyin.” There was a hint of censure in his voice, but Jiang Cheng shook his head.

“With my relationship with this core of Wei Wuxian’s, I’ve had many years to contemplate my own mortality, that’s all. I did originally think it was just going to take some getting used to, but its been a long time now, since I began to understand it only gave me a limited lifespan. It’s one hell of a way to focus on what matters, Xichen, that I can assure you.”

“And you can honestly say to me you don’t feel like you’ve left anything undone, no regrets, nothing you wished you’d achieved, if this was the end?”

He didn’t hide the flicker in his gaze fast enough, he knew that, and damn Lan Xichen for being able to understand him so well.

“Nothing I can control,” he said instead.

Lan Xichen’s perfect eyebrow raised a little, but he turned to move out of the door, Jiang Cheng, again, following.

They made their way through the Cloud Recesses, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t too proud to admit to himself he was actually nervous over the outcome. He genuinely couldn’t hazard a guess over who the person who Lan Xichen had sent a request to was, but they were about to find out.

They entered the Yashi. There were two visitors, one he recognised immediately, and felt a flare of…defensiveness…anger…but it was quickly overtaken by shock.

The pair rose to their feet, and the tall, slim figure of a woman in dark robes turned to face them.

The Ghost General Wen Ning had been enough of a surprise, to be faced by another ghost, was a bigger shock still.

“Lan-zongzhu, Jiang-zongzhu.” Wen Qing greeting them both with a slight bow, despite the distaste on her face. Lan Xichen returned her greeting, and Jiang Cheng must have do so too, although he didn’t recall.

He didn’t miss how carefully watchful Wen Ning was as his sister interacted with the pair.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too taxing, Zhao-guniang.” Lan Xichen said pleasantly, and she made some non-committal response.

“I won’t waste your time, Lan-zongzhu. I came because of the debt I owe you, and because I don’t like the thought of my work being so shoddy it killed someone. There is no love lost between us, but I will assist you, Jiang-zongzhu, if you give me your word I will be left alone afterwards. Lan-zongzhu obviously trusts you enough to reveal what his clan did for me to you, but I would like your personal guarantee on the matter.”

He pressed his lips together, but nodded. His need for vengeance had never stretched to the pair here, but he had never felt any personal responsibility for their fate either; he had just detested the sight of them, it being a grating reminder of everything he had suffered and what he had lost. If they existed in the world still, he didn’t care, as long as he didn’t have to interact with them, see them, be reminded by them. His vengeance on their clan was long since spent, the feeling dead and buried with the deaths of Wen Chao, and, ultimately, Wen Ruohan.

“You came because you’re a healer, Zhao-guniang. You owe me nothing, after all.” Lan Xichen was speaking to Wen...Zhao Qing.

She gave him a sharp, searching look. But it wasn’t mere politeness from Lan Xichen, he was too good, too kind, and a little naive. His actions were never about what he could personally gain from them, his kindness was selfless, genuine, the kind of paragon someone like Jiang Cheng could never hope to emulate in this life.

And, as usual, it confused people.

Lan Xichen understood her implicitly though, in the way that she was a healer first and foremost, and it was very obvious she wanted nothing more than to get to work.

Jiang Cheng had no wish to prolong their contact. And he wasn't even entirely sure he wished to put himself in Wen...Zhao Qing’s debt. He didn’t consider himself in that debt already for what had happened before, between the others, between Wei Wuxian, and Wen Ning, and Wen Qing, as she had been then, they had stolen his right to make an informed decision and choose for himself, to turn down his shixiong’s core, to decide what was put inside of him. That negated any gratitude he should feel, and always had, from the moment he had discovered what had truly happened.

The next few hours were spent in examinations, consultations, and discussions.

After those she spent some time in consideration, and consulting the books she had brought with her, and with Lei Shirong and Xiao Qingyue, who seemed to hang on her every word. In the end, the only treatment option she could offer him was, as he expected, the full removal of the core.

And he had already had quite a long time to consider that. He had always known it was likely the only way to save his life. Basically, he was reconciled to it. Considering it was that, or death, for Jin Ling’s sake there really wasn’t a choice.

He agreed instantly, which seemed to throw those present.

But he would hear no arguments, he had long ago prepared himself for this. In reality, Wei Wuxian had loaned him this core, to enable him to enact his revenge, and resurrect his sect. He had achieved both. He didn’t need anything more, except to be there for his nephew as he grew to full manhood.

“What will happen with the core? Will you be able to return it to Wei Wuxian?” he asked. Ideally, he would avoid Wei Wuxian ever knowing, or being involved, but practically speaking, there was no point in it core going to waste.

He already felt incredibly guilty that Wei Wuxian had sacrificed so much for him, but Jiang Cheng had virtually thrown that away, by being unable to assimilate the core his shixiong had given up for him, wanted or not. If it could be returned, then it would still be useful, still serve a purpose, and salve his conscience. It wouldn’t make what Wei Wuxian had suffered better, wouldn’t remove that, but nothing could turn back time, for any of them.

“I think I will be able to, if you’re willing to be awake when the core is extracted, and if the core survives the process.” Zhao Qing informed him matter-of-factly.

“Whatever is needed.” He agreed without thought.

“You don’t know what being awake entails-,”

“I don’t need to, I’ll have Xichen send a messenger to find them immediately. We don’t have very long.” He left the infirmary, where Xiao Qingyue had invited Zhao Qing to set up her surgery, and delivered his request to the Lan sect leader.

Lan Xichen complied, and dispatched a butterfly messenger, then invited Jiang Cheng to sit and talk for a while, over tea. He was aware Lan Xichen was eager to know the outcomes of his examinations, and Zhao Qing’s findings.

He seemed genuinely disappointed for Jiang Cheng, when he informed him that he had agreed to the removal procedure.

Jiang Cheng told him he was genuinely accepting of the outcome, but, uncomfortable with Lan Xichen’s sadness, he changed the subject.

“It seems I should apologise to you, for dragging you out of your seclusion before you were ready.”

Lan Xichen accepted the change of subject, but not the apology.

“Not necessary, Wanyin, I had been considering it time to end my seclusion, you merely took away the agonising and overthinking about when it should be.”

He laughed at the cheeky smile Lan Xichen directed at him.

Really, he had enjoyed their clandestine discussions through the Hanshi’s window, but talking to Lan Xichen face-to-face, being able to watch the warm expressions flit across his face, the teasing light in his dark amber eyes, was far superior.

“I’m a treasure, its true,” he said, his tone loaded full of self-deprication.

“You truly are, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen agreed, but he meant it sincerely, and their eyes met, and held, but Jiang Cheng couldn’t bear the surge of emotion it caused, and had to break the contact after a few moments.

It was his nature to read too much into another’s feelings; he always had, he knew his own mind well enough to know he was far too ready to cleave to someone who showed him even the smallest amount of affection. He was well aware, and he hated that about himself, but he couldn’t change it. He could stop himself making a fool of himself over it, however.

He rose and made his excuses as soon as it was polite, and made his way back to his accommodations next to the magnolia tree. There was a fat, full moon hanging in the sky and there was a new crispness in the air that suggested autumn had finally arrived, and winter wouldn’t be too far in the future.

There was now a hope in his heart that he might see that winter.

He was a little distracted, and extremely comfortable in the protection of the Cloud Recesses, which was why he was slow to recognise the danger for what it was.

He had reached his door before he felt it. He turned to identify the threat, reaching for Sandu’s hilt.

There was the sudden sound of a dizi, and he only had seconds to identify the twin red pools of rage in the darkness, before something hit him solidly in the chest, and sent him backwards into the residence. Dark, smoking tendrils wrapped themselves around him, pinning him against the wall, he could summon, but not swing Zidian, nor could he form a sword seal to infuse Sandu with his spiritual energy and defend himself with her.

The dark figure stalked into the residence behind him, shadows swirling around him, the only brightness in his blood red eyes. It had been a long time since Jiang Cheng had seen the Yiling Laozu in all his rage-filled, vengeful glory. Even if he was significantly shorter these days…

“Wei Wuxian, you fucker-,” his air was cut off suddenly, a tendril tightening around his throat. He glared daggers at Wei Wuxian, as it was the only response he could make. Not that it had ever worked on that man.

“Appointment made, dear Shidi. I see now is a good time for you.” Really was there anyone in the world who could get under his skin as quickly and effectively as Wei Wuxian? He was going to kick him in the balls the minute he got free. “So, were you ever going to tell me about the core? Why didn’t you tell me it was failing as far back as the Sunshot campaign, when we could have done something about it? What if Xichen-ge hadn’t accidentally found out, and summoned Zhao Qing? WHAT IF YOU HAD DIED OF A QI DEVIATION WITHOUT ANY OF US KNOWING IN TIME TO STOP IT, JIANG CHENG?”

The tendrils pinning him to the wall vanished, and he dropped back to his feet, coughing and choking at the sudden rush of air returning to his lungs.

He looked up just in time to catch the flash of a fist, but not stop it, as Wei Wuxian punched him in the face.

“You stupid fuck.” Wei Wuxian snapped, smashing Chenqing into his belt, then raising both hands to run them down his face as he calmed a little, rage spent.

Jiang Cheng, painfully aware of his own strength compared to the coreless Wei Wuxian, knew he couldn’t return like for like with physical violence, not unless he wanted to break Wei Wuxian’s jaw. And, as tempting as it was, he didn’t really want it.

Verbally, he could definitely fight fire with fire however.

“Try because you fucking lied to me, for years, Wei Wuxian. I didn’t know it was yours, I just thought I needed to get used to it. If you’d told me, even after it was done, I’d have known it wasn’t going to get any better, it wasn’t going to stop feeling like something painful and invasive inside of me. But you never did, you lied and you lied, and kept me in the dark like a stupid child, so don’t blame me.”

“You didn’t tell anyone…”

“Wrong, Wei Wuxian, I discussed it with my physician, who was the only other person in the world who had a right to know If I wished him to know.”

How could Wei Wuxian argue with that?

Except it was Wei Wuxian, who could argue with his own reflection, because he was just that contrary.

“You’re so fucking petty, Jiang Cheng, age hasn’t improved that about you.”

“And you’re so fucking annoying, Wei Wuxian. You haven’t noticeably improved either.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Wei Wuxian turned, and walked to the window, planting his hands on the sill, and pulling in a deep breath.

“I don’t want the core back.”

“Fine, then W-Zhao Qing can throw it away.”

Wei Wuxian spun at his comment, frowning, “Why are you always so bloody minded?” he demanded.

“Bloody minded? Wei Wuxian, as much as I hate throwing your sacrifice back in your face, your core is going to kill me if Zhao Qing doesn’t remove it. I can’t use it anymore, my body is rejecting it. Either you take it back, or you don’t, but I can’t keep it.”

Wei Wuxian’s hips hit the windowsill as he leant back, a sigh left him. “I’d hoped she was just grandstanding because you’d asked her to. It’s really a case of it has to come out then.” It wasn’t a question. Wei Wuxian folded his arms and looked away. “I’ll speak to Zhao Qing tomorrow, we’ll finalise things and arrange the operation for as soon as possible.” He stepped away from the window, then, placing a soothing hand on Chenqing, “You know if the core needs to stay viable you have to be awake during the transfer, don’t you? You know it’s painful? You know you can feel your qi settling and never reawakening in your channels, don’t you?”

“Zhao Qing may have tried to mention something of the sort. It’s a novel idea, but perhaps it’s time to stop treating me like a fragile piece of glass, who’ll break at the slightest pressure, Wei Wuxian. I’ve walked through hell in this life, and survived. Perhaps it’s time to start crediting me with having strength, and a mind, of my own.”

Wei Wuxian’s face was unusually expressionless. “Perhaps it is.”

~ Several Months Later ~

He opened the chest, and gently lifted the scroll out. It was an exquisite rendition of a lotus lake, in full bloom, with a shadowed pier in the distance. It was done in beautiful shades of purple and blue and was truly a gorgeous piece.

He had seen enough of Lan Xichen’s paintings over the years, like the sceneries in Jinlin Tai, that he had painted for Jin Guangyao, to know who the artist was, if he had any doubt. Which he didn’t, because it was the third gift that had arrived this month.

It would go over his bed.

“I really should send a return gift,” he said to himself. Unfortunately, himself currently also included his new shadow, Wei Wuxian, who was laid out on top of his bed, swinging Chenqing through the air and watching the tassel trace patterns.

“He doesn’t want a return gift, stupid. He wants your hand in marriage.” His shadow sat up, and stared at him like he was insane.

Perhaps he was.

But he wasn’t yet insane enough to take Wei Wuxian’s words at face value. How could Lan Xichen, the foremost cultivator of his generation, the most handsome man in the cultivational world, want his hand in marriage? He was nothing. Less than nothing. A nobody holding on to power by default, not a cultivator anymore, nothing special, just an ordinary man living his life, and definitely not worth such a man’s regard.

He sighed, and placed the painting back in the chest. He resolved to have it hung later, and send a thank you note for the very kind gift to the Cloud Recesses.

“Why are you even back here? Hasn’t Yang Hai already removed you from Lotus Pier once? Why won’t you stay away?”

“Actually, three times this week, so far, I don’t understand why I keep getting kicked out and Lan Zhan doesn’t, I’ll get a complex, and start feeling like I’m not wanted here.”

“Please do.” Jiang Cheng snapped, and thought he’d have a word with his head disciple, there was no earthly reason Yang Hai and Yang Mei should keep ignoring the Second Jade and just remove Wei Wuxian. Why should this pair of freeloaders be suffered to stay in Lotus Pier just because his supposed right and left hand were scared of Lan Wangji?

“I don’t like your head disciple much, Jiang Cheng, he’s very...dull.”

“Really? You mean efficient, responsible, and dependable.” He recognised Wei Wuxian’s petty jealousy for what it was, and couldn’t help needling him.

“Yes, like I said, dull, boring. Not the kind of head disciple my shidi needs.”

“Exactly the kind of head disciple I need, Wei Wuxian, and we’re not having this discussion.” He stalked over to the bed and caught Wei Wuxian’s wrist, pulling him into a sitting position. “Why don’t you go home, Wei Wuxian? Lan Wangji must be getting bored here by now.”

“I am home, Jiang Cheng. I’ll need to divide my time up a little, but I’m here for now.”

“I don’t need you here.”

“And yet here I still am. Get used to it. And order more alcohol, your kitchens ran out yesterday for the second time. It’s truly an embarrassment.”

“You’re the only embarrassment around here, Wei Wuxian. Don’t drink so much.”

In the time since the transfer, when Zhao Qing had returned Wei Wuxian’s core to him, Wei Wuxian had hovered over Jiang Cheng like a mother hen over her chicks.

It had grated on his nerves from about the second hour, now, it was just a constant irritation. Actually akin to how it had been in the past, really.

He knew why, he really did, and while he appreciated the thought, it was unnecessary. But convincing Wei Wuxian of that was impossible, Wei Wuxian never changed his mind, he was tenacious and stubborn, and he always thought he was right. They’d always had that in common.

Hopefully, though, Wei Wuxian would leave after the mid-year alliance conference, which was due to start in a few days. It was a short catch-up event, meant to build and improve on the agreements and plans that had come out of the larger meeting at the Cloud Recesses several months ago, and so it would only last a day, with a celebration feast in the evening to close. It would also be the first time Jiang Cheng had taken part in the wider cultivational world since Wei Wuxian’s core had been removed. It was safe to say he was anxious over how the world would react to him now.

Recovery had been slow, at least slower than he had wanted, so he pushed himself relentlessly, but at least the constant discomfort and pain, like having a rock in his guts, had gone. And the ever present fear of losing control was now refined solely to his temper.

There was still tenderness around the second incision wound, just below the first, now-white scar on his navel, that Zhao Qing had made; it was still pink and angry, although it would be even more so if Wei Wuxian didn’t wrestle him down and pin him long enough to feed him qi every now and again, usually when the wound was particularly troubling.

Mentally…he thought he was getting there. He hadn’t lied before, there had been some measure of making peace with everything that might happen, this was a definite step up from death, after all.

But it had still been a huge shock.

The procedure itself had been incredibly taxing. Although he had been warned, it hadn’t been the things they’d told him to expect that affected him. The pain he could deal with, and the sensations of his qi flow, of being able to guide and direct it, vanishing, was traumatic, but it was mostly due to the feelings and long buried memories it brought back to the surface. It had felt like being back under the power of the Wens, tied and helpless and begging for mercy as his core was destroyed.

It had brought the nightmares back with increased frequency, although they had never really gone away entirely.

If he felt a little adrift, a little lost, a little like an imposter again, it was to be expected. He was dealing with it the best he could.

Having Jin Ling at Lotus Pier like a protective, yet bad-tempered little bodyguard was actually a help. Not least because his nephew was trying particularly hard not to rile Jiang Cheng up into a temper too often. It wouldn't last, but it was nice while he had it.

Even having Wei Wuxian back, with all the annoyance and aggravation that man caused just by breathing, was a benefit.

As was Lan Xichen’s kind friendship.

He wandered back to the chest and took the scroll out again. It really was an exquisite piece.

“How do you really feel about Xichen-ge, Jiang Cheng?”

He almost dropped the scroll in shock at the question, so sudden in the silence that had fallen. He had almost forgotten. Forgotten that Wei Wuxian was there. Forgotten how shrewd he was behind that sometimes clownish exterior. And forgotten how well he knew Jiang Cheng.

“How do you really feel about broken legs?” But what was the point in pretending? Wei Wuxian already knew, or he wouldn’t ask. And if he decided to tease Jiang Cheng about it, no force in the world, not least Jiang Cheng’s denials, would stop him. “You already know,” he said instead, “you know me far too well to doubt it. We both know I’m in love with him. Like a whipped dog shown an ounce of kindness, ready to wag my tail and beg for scraps of affection. Isn’t that what I’ve always been like?”

Wei Wuxian sighed, which made Jiang Cheng turn to him in surprise. He had expected to be teased, but the other was exasperated with him instead. He didn’t understand.

“What?” he demanded, but Wei Wuxian shook his head.

“Jiang Cheng, Xichen-ge is courting you. Anyone else in the world would recognise it, but you’re so blind you can’t see it for what it is. Just don’t be an idiot when he asks you.” And there went the teasing.

“How can he be? Why would he? Lan Xichen..he’s everything, Wei Wuxian, and I’m nothing. I’m not even a cultivator now.

“I don’t know how to be amusing, or witty, or cute. I have a foul temper, and I don’t know how to let people in. I can’t even be honest about my feelings.”

Wei Wuxian spread his hands, helplessly, then walked towards the door. He paused on the threshold, and looked back, however, “You took me to task, a while ago, for treating you as if you were weak, as if you weren’t able to make your own, informed decisions. Do you remember that, Jiang Cheng?”

Of course he did. He nodded.

“You are not nothing. You are Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin. You are the Sandu Shengshou, a mention of your name is enough to make grown men tremble in their boots. You are Yunmeng Jiang; the bones that this sect, that rose from the ashes like a phoenix, are built up around. You did that, Jiang Cheng, not my core, not Lan Xichen. You.

“So maybe you should remember that strength that you promised me you had. That indomitable spirit that you said had walked through hell and survived. And perhaps you should do Xichen-ge the honour of accepting that, just perhaps, he also knows his own mind.”

It was a long time before Jiang Cheng could respond, and Wei Wuxian had long left the room. And the thought terrified him, but when had Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin, the Sandu Shengshou, able to make grown men tremble in their boots, ever allowed himself to be scared into inaction? “Perhaps I should,” he whispered.

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

The alliance conference came in the blink of an eye, and the morning passed in a whirlwind of arrivals, and social niceties. There was little time to give anyone, not even Lan Xichen, anything in the way of personal attention, and he had one huge hurdle to overcome before he felt he could actually address what may or may not be between himself and the Lan sect leader.

It was that afternoon, in the hall, where Jiang Cheng had to take the Lotus throne under the eyes of the assembled sect leaders, that loomed large in his mind. Everyone there, who didn’t live under a rock, that was, would likely know the truth. He was spiritually weakened now, coreless. But he had learned at the side of an expert, how to cast the facade of strength, of being an equal to these vultures. Wei Wuxian had swaggered amongst them for years, convincing them he was the most powerful being on the planet, and his ‘fuck you’ attitude had been an integral part of that, (and the demonic cultivation, which actually had made him one of the most powerful beings on the planet, but he chose to ignore that fact). If there was one thing Jiang Cheng had gained over the years, as he had grown up, as his sect had turned into the powerhouse it was today, it was a ‘fuck you’ attitude to rival his shixiongs’.

He stood outside the doors for a few seconds, Yang Hai and Yang Mei, the Sandu Shengshou’s faultlessly loyal Vipers, stood at his back, and at his shoulder stood the Yiling Patriarch, unusually serious, and well-behaved, but with the new look those that knew him well were just growing used to again, that being a Wei Wuxian who carried Suibian, although now her scabbard had been altered to add hooks to hold Chenqing too.

He had told Wei Wuxian his presence wasn’t necessary, with Yang Hai and Yang Mei there. Which was actually a sure-fire way of ensuring he would be there, because he was just that contrary.

“I’m the Chief Cultivator’s husband, I go where I will.” Wei Wuxian had argued, and Jiang Cheng hadn’t actually felt like pointing out that the Chief Cultivator’s husband wasn’t a political position, and even if it had been, that position wouldn’t have given him the right to march in there at the shoulder of the Yunmeng Jiang sect leader.

Because, he actually drew strength from knowing Wei Wuxian was there, and, curling the hand held behind his back into a tight fist, setting his face into it’s usual resting frown, fingers tightening around a sword he couldn’t use, until the knuckles showed white, he stepped forward.

It was quite a sight, no doubt, as they swept down the central aisle, and to the throne, and as he settled, flicking his sleeves out, and resting Sandu against the arm, he threw a look around the room.

There were speculative looks, neutral looks, nothing overtly confrontational. At least not yet. He tried to avoid the one gaze in the room that he wanted to to see, but it was the one he wanted to assess the most, and it was a losing battle. His eyes searched out Lan Xichen’s gently smiling countenance, and he felt something warm and nourishing grow in his chest.

It felt like the moment lasted for a long time, but it was likely mere seconds, before their gazes broke, and business, very much like during any other meeting, began.

It almost went flawlessly.

But, as Jiang Cheng spoke up in the midst of a dispute, someone decided to test the waters.

He would have laid money on Sect Leader Yao being the one to do it, too. He had dared to put Jin Ling down after the Guanyin Temple, because he thought the Jin Sect too weak to retaliate for a slight against one of it’s juniors.

For a man who had a strong moral compass, who claimed to be on the side of justice, he had something of a bully about him.

Still, the statesman in Jiang Cheng allowed his comment to pass, knowing overreaction to a perceived slight would come across as grandstanding from a position of weakness, although he heard Yang Mei let out a small breath of irritation.

Sect Leader Yao decided to push it further, however, and dared to ask why Jiang Cheng thought he was qualified, now, to try to railroad smaller sects.

Despite the fact he had been mediating, and had made no such move, it gave Jiang Cheng the opportunity he needed. He had hoped to get through this conference without a show of power, to give himself more time. But now, or in six months, or a year, it had always been something that would have to happen sooner or later.

He rose, and strode into the centre of the room.

A gesture, and Zidian crackled to life in his hand, her coils falling to rest around his feet like a purple snake, still and threatening, just as deadly in her readiness to strike.

“Yao-zongzhu. I know you think now might be the time to test me. But don’t ever make the mistake of assuming I’m weak, or defenceless. Stronger men, cleverer men, than you have tried to destroy me in the past, and failed. They’re dead. I’m still here, like a phoenix, rising again and again from the ashes of my enemies. I was thirteen when I formed my first core, our generation was quite precocious like that, under the threat of Wen tyranny it was cultivate and become stronger or die. How long do you think it will take me to form a second? With the foundation of thirty years training? Two more years? Three? I’m a stubborn man, too obstinate to know when I’m beaten, you see.” He sucked a breath in through his nose. “Now, may we continue, there is an excellent feast awaiting us after we finish here?”

As expected, Yao backed down, full of bluster and claims Jiang Cheng had misunderstood. He ignored him, and allowed Zidian to return to her resting state.

He had so much iron in his spine at the moment he couldn’t relax, as he sat down. He thought if he did, he’d sag, and reveal his exhaustion, his hands had retreated into the deep sleeves of his formal robes, to hide their shaking. The only part of his body that didn’t show his drained state was his face, which he kept carefully set in it’s frown. He had, of course, been too verbose, and as a consequence had had to use too much spiritual energy to keep Zidian active while he spoke, as a visual demonstration of his power, a reminder of who the Sandu Shengshou was.

He didn’t quite have as much foundation as he might have suggested, yet. But he was working hard towards it; he really was too stubborn to know when he was beaten.

He projected that facade for the rest of the meeting, and made it out of the hall in one piece. He even made it as far as an antechamber, where he dismissed Yang Hai and Yang Mei, and a hovering Wei Wuxian, ordering them to begin the feast, assuring them he would be there shortly, he just needed to meditate for a while, to rest for a few minutes and recover his reserves.

They knew he’d overtaxed himself as well as he did, and he was surprised this wasn’t one of the times he had to fight Wei Wuxian off, from his invasive sharing of qi, but the other went docilely enough, as if knowing Jiang Cheng didn’t have the spare energy left to argue.

He closed the door behind them, and slid down it.

The silent, wrenching sobs, a tangled mixture of exhaustion, relief that he had managed to pull off the biggest act of his life, and pent up emotions over everything that had happened over the past few months, grief, hopelessness, frustration, and anger all mixed together, wracked his frame.

Then, exhausted, he wiped at his eyes, let his head drift back against the door, and cleared his mind enough to meditate.

He couldn’t deny he felt lighter, the biggest obstacle had been overcome, now the rest was just hard work, which he had never shied from.

Well, there was one other thing, that caused his stomach to explode in a sudden fluttering of butterflies. He had promised himself, though, that after the alliance discussion, he would devote himself to the second issue.

A little while later the click of a jar being placed on the floor by his side drove his eyes open.

He almost wished he hadn’t at the dazzling sight of the First Jade of Lan, all pure white robes, and beatific smile, sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

The click had been a jar of alcohol.

He fought the urge to lift his hand to protect his eyes from the brightness.

He was about to ask how the other had entered the antechamber, considering he was still rested against the door, but he realised there was a window.

He hadn’t needed a door himself to crash into Lan Xichen’s carefully cultivated seclusion, and it seemed that the other had only taken a page out of Jiang Cheng’s book of impressive entrances.

He failed to hide the chuckle, which made Lan Xichen smile even wider.

Was it rude to tell a man to stop smiling because he was more blinding than the sun?

Probably.

“Xichen.”

“Wanyin.”

They were silent for a while after the greeting.

Then Lan Xichen broke it, “You were magnificent in there, Wanyin. Truly stunning.” Then, no doubt knowing how badly Jiang Cheng was equipped to deal with compliments, he moved on. “Dare I hope the Lan meditation techniques are helping in qi refining?”

He had felt the beginnings of a flush at Lan Xichen’s praise, but could do nothing but pretend it wasn’t happening. How should he respond to someone telling him that he were magnificent?

He really didn’t know. A simple thank you seemed...either like he didn’t care, or received such compliments at least once every Thursday, whereas the truth was no one had ever described Jiang Cheng as magnificent before.

Perhaps Lan Xichen’s seclusion had addled his mind?

But that wasn’t fair was it?

And perhaps you should do Xichen-ge the honour of accepting that, just perhaps, he also knows his own mind.

Wei Wuxian’s words had profoundly affected him. How could he want that for himself if he didn’t offer others the same respect?

“I have never felt magnificent in my life, Xichen, but I thank you for the compliment. The Lan meditation techniques are very useful, thank you again. I’m not always the best suited to them, I’m not always able to find the level of focus they require, but when I can, they’re incredible.”

A gentle smile was his answer, and another pause.

Jiang Cheng thought he knew...hoped he knew...what came next. And Wei Wuxian was right, Jiang Cheng wasn’t weak, he wasn’t a scared child, he was strong, he was driven, he had known what he had to do at every stage in his life so far, because it was what was expected, what was needed.

This time it had to be about what he wanted. He deserved that.

In one single leap, although admittedly, it was a slightly wobbly-legged one, he had closed the distance, and overbalanced the first Jade of Lan.

“Lan Xichen, I love you.” He said, ignoring the fact his face still burned, his embarrassment stronger than a thousand suns, and lowered his head to capture the soft-looking lips of the most handsome man in the cultivational world. He was met half way, and Lan Xichen’s arms found their way around his neck. It was regrettably short, but he poured his whole heart into it, and it was beautiful, as was Lan Xichen, who’s ears were just as pink as Jiang Cheng’s cheeks when they pulled apart, who’s well-kissed lips glistened in the evening light seeping in through the window, who looked at him with such love in his amber gaze.

“I love you, my Wanyin, you gave so much of yourself to me, so selflessly, when I had nothing, and you thought you were at the end, and must have had a million more important concerns that one lonely man stuck in the past, how could I fail to fall for you?”

His embarrassment intensified. How was it even possible at this point?

But love confessions required certain amounts of reciprocation, he wasn’t such a novice he didn’t know that.

“I only gave you what you deserved, what you’d give to anyone in return. Xichen, you’re kindness incarnate, and this cruel, vicious world might have taken advantage of that, but it never killed it in you, and that truly is the most amazing thing of all, a testament to who you are. You deserve to be treated like the beautiful soul you are.”

“And you like the treasure you are. No matter how much the world took from you, you still had more to give.” Xichen reached up to trace his cheekbone gently, “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Wanyin, truly indomitable. Marry me?”

“Is tomorrow soon enough?”

[virtualpiratementality]

Avoiding Death is my Specialty

Hi guys! So the blog @incorrectfairytailquotesx on Tumblr has inspired a number of one shots from me. This is one that came to me from a quote they posted from the Percy Jackson series. I’m not too happy with the ending and may post an edited version, but for now, enjoy! :)

5/6/20 update- was going through old stories and wanted to update this one.  Can be read separately, or as a prequel to ‘Flowers’ and then ‘Starry Date’. Will also be posted on ff.net

If you like it please share or leave a comment, constructive criticism welcome :)

~~~~~~

“Avoiding death is my specialty.”

Natsu Dragneel(Percy Jackson)

~~~~~~

“Come onn, Natsu,” I groaned, pulling the pink haired boy by the rest of the way off of the train. He collapsed onto the ground and I huffed, crossing my arms. “This is our first S-class mission. Well, officially. We can’t be late!” I said anxiously.

“Relax, Lucy” the puddle that was Natsu groaned. “The guy doesn’t live that far away,” he said before finally starting to push himself off of the ground. “And besides–when have we ever been on time?” He said, his attempt to grin cheekily at me ruined by the still green tint on his cheeks.  I rolled my eyes before letting out a calming breath.  Natsu was right about him not living too far away, at least.

“Aye!” Happy cried, flying around our heads. He stopped and clung onto me, “please can we eat first!? I haven’t eaten since breakfast!” He pleaded.

I glanced quickly at my watch, we did still have a little less than an hour before we needed to be at the requester’s house.  “Yess,” I groaned.  “Quickly, though, go fly ahead and find somewhere!  We don’t have too long”  I warned him.

“Thanks, Lucy!” He chirped before flying off towards the busier looking roads.

“I wish Gray or Erza could have come along with us,” I told Natsu as we slowly followed after, frowning.

“Why would you want Ice brains here!? And I’m just as strong as Erza!” He said, letting out a puff of fire.

“Of course you are,” I said, letting out a light laugh. “But this is our first S class mission, and it would make me more comfortable if we had more people…” I fretted.

“We’re a team!” Natsu exclaimed. “ And you know what that means?” I arched my eyebrow in an invitation. “That we’ll get through it together, Luce. Always.” He finished adamantly.

“You’re right!” I replied, sending him a soft smile. “We’ll finish this mission up and be back home in no time!”

“And anyways, it’s not our first S class quest!”  He said, and I rolled my eyes already knowing what he was going to say.  “The first was Galuna Island!”

“Yeah, and look at how well that turned out,” I said, letting out an unladylike snort. “Erza and Gray had to come help!”

“Well they did, but we could have done it without them!”  He persisted.

“You’re right, of course we could have,” I said in a placating tone.

“NATSU! LUCY!” We looked towards the right where we could hear Happy’s voice and saw him hovering in front of a restaurant decorated with fishing nets and traps and lures. I scrunched up my nose and Natsu laughed at me.

“Are you regretting letting him pick the spot?” He teased, nudging my arm.

“Maybe a little bit…”

Lunch was, as always, a noisy and messy affair. We ended up getting to the contacts house on time, if not slightly out of breath. “See?” Natsu beamed. “Told ya we’d be fine!” I glared at him, gasping, as he knocked on the door.

“Jeez, Luce,” Happy started. “I think you need to get in better shape when we get home!” My growl was cut off as the door opened. I straightened up to greet the man at the door.

“Hello! Are you Jiro?” I questioned with a friendly smile on my face.

“Yes! Are you the team from Fairy Tail I was told would be coming?” He asked politely.

“Sure am!” Natsu replied enthusiastically, both of us presenting our guild marks. “And we’re ready to kick some bandit ass!” My polite smile became strained as Natsu spoke and I did a mental slap to my forehead. Jiro, however, thankfully just laughed and invited us into his house.

“I’m happy you made it here safely,” he said, face grave. “From what I understand they increased the difficulty of my request.”  He said, before continuing on to explain at the nods of our head that we were aware of this.   “Just a few days ago, I discovered that there were far more bandits than I first believed making their home on my land. It’s far too dangerous for me to go out there anymore, which is a problem for my family.  I use that land to feed them, we have a large garden and when there is need, we hunt. With the recent bandit problem, however…” He trailed off.

“You haven’t been able to feed your family,” I responded gently. “We understand. We’ll take care of this problem so you won’t have to worry anymore,” I said assuredly.

“Thank you!” He said gratefully. “Please, go when you are ready and be careful. They’re scattered on the land throughout the day.” We nodded in understanding before heading out the door.

“You ready to get started!?” Natsu asked.  “Got your keys, whip?”

“Of course I do,”  I responded, scoffing.  “Let’s go! I’d like to be done today or tomorrow to head back.”  I added, and Natsu nodded, agreeing before we headed towards where Jiro had directed us.

We didn’t talk as we wandered our way through the land, making our way through the wooded area, listening intently to the sounds that surrounded us. We sent Happy ahead to scout, and he came back about ten minutes later beckoning us to follow him. We followed along stealthily, stopping at every twig crack and bush rustle. Soon we found ourselves crouching outside of a huge clearing with a garden in the middle and a large number of tents set up in the fields surrounding the garden.

I felt Natsu’s breath on my ear, and held in a squeak of surprise.  “Luce,” he barely whispered, and I felt an involuntary shiver go through me at the feel of his breath on my ear.  “I think it would be better to split up right now, go around to the right while I go left, we’ll do a head count and meet up on the other side.”  I nodded in agreement.

It’s common for people to think that Natsu isn’t exactly a planner. Normally they would be correct, his impulsivity and love of just jumping in when we’re with our whole team is often the cause of too many of our troubles, but with how many of us there are with the full team, especially with how strong everyone is, it allows for more freedom.  

However, when just us, Natsu tended to be much more careful, following a checklist and making a plan, even if he doesn’t always follow it. I used to think that it was because I wasn’t the best fighter, however I had been training with our team for quite some time now and had been getting stronger.  I wasn’t going to complain however, I always enjoyed having a plan.

“Sounds good,” I replied. “just please be careful!” He gave me a ‘who, me?’ look that made me roll my eyes before we went our separate ways. 

I unhooked my whip as I crept around the edge of the camp, careful for any leaves or twigs that may be on the ground. I was about halfway around with a head count of 14 when I heard heavy footsteps accompanied by a branch snap. I whirled around, crouching lower to the ground, one leg bent under me, the other stretched out. He hadn’t seen me yet and I took the opportunity to hide better as he wandered out of the camp. 

I bit my lip, wondering if I should try to take him down now. If I could do it quietly, it would be one less person. If I took too long, it could alert the camp someone was here…I worried my lip between my teeth. Then again, if he woke up before Natsu and I had finished with a plan he could warn the camp and they would be more prepared…I let out a frustrated scream in my mind before pouting and waited for him to leave. Too many ‘what ifs’ for now.

It didn’t take me long to finish my circuit and meet Natsu at the other end. In total, we had a count of about thirty.

“I can cause a distraction on the other side and while their backs are turned we can jump em!” He whispered enthusiastically. I laughed and nodded.

“Seems like the best way to go, hopefully we’ll take a few down before they realize we’re even here!” I agreed. He grinned maniacally and with a barely noticeable flick of the wrist, called a ball of fire to his hand. Taking aim, he shot the fireball towards one of the tents in the middle. The man sitting in front shot up and frantically tried to put his tent out while the others near him started laughing and jeering. Until the fire spread and another tent caught on fire. Then another. More and more people were migrating over to frantically try and help put them out before it continued to spread. 

Natsu glanced over and I grinned, giving him a thumbs up. I had equipped my Taurus Star Dress at this point and was ready to go! I felt the familiar feeling of my heartbeat picking up, and the excitement starting to build right before a fight. At my thumbs up, Natsu jumped into the clearing, incapacitating people left and right.

I jumped into the fray, cracking my whip and bringing people down, focusing on trying to keep anyone from sneaking up to Natsu or overwhelming him.  My whip wrapped around ankles, wrists and necks, dragging them to the ground.   Taurus’ Dress was the best for situations like this, increasing my strength when it was needed. Soon enough, however, the bandits understood what was going on and turned their attention from the burning tents to us and I knew the real thing would help a great deal.  Grabbing for my keys, I called Taurus to come help us fight. 

I had a few people coming just for me, but it seemed most of the bandits had deemed Natsu as the main threat, which only made things all the more easier for us. Natsu was enjoying himself a bit too much, cackling as he took people out with his flaming fists. Shaking my head and smiling, I kept fighting. We quickly fell into a pattern, me dragging someone away from Natsu when I could and Taurus knocking them out.   Things were looking good for us!

Funny how it only takes a split second for things to change. 

Out of nowhere, I felt something grab my legs. Looking down, I noticed vines and roots had clung to them and they were firmly holding me in place.  I gave a few experimental tugs, but they were quickly climbing up my body, making it impossible to move. Taurus noticed what was happening and stopped swinging at the bandits, turning to help me before being entrapped in his own roots. “Luuuucy!” He called, hacking at his own restraints.

“I’m fine, Taurus! Go back!” I commanded. He looked at me hesitantly. “Go! I can call you again if I need you!” I said urgently, watching the vines quickly wrap up him.  He grudgingly nodded.

“Yes, Luuucy. Stay safe!” He said before disappearing, the roots still molded in the position of his legs.

What was this!? No one had reported there being mages in with the bandits! I thought furiously.  I couldn’t take the time to dwell on it, however. They were here, and we had to deal with them.  I quickly began scanning for them as I switched outfits.

“Star Dress-Cancer!” I called, glancing over to check on Natsu. Natsu also had roots starting to reach towards him.  He was throwing fire at his own restraints as well as other people, trying to keep them at bay. Happy was pulling on the back of his vest as he attacked the roots, trying to pull him free. 

“Natsuuuu!” He cried. 

I unsheathed the swords that came with the Cancer form and started to try and cut the roots away. It didn’t seem to matter how quickly I cut, and the roots were too thick to cut through in a single stroke and when I did manage to cut one more vine, two more seemed to pop up in its place.

Looking around frantically I tried to pinpoint the magic user. The roots were already up to my waist and reaching out to try and grab my wrists. “Natsu!” I cried desperately, pointing to the man who I had found to be controlling the roots. His hands palm down, back against the trees and eyes closed. His long dark hair loosely tied up and he seemed to almost meld with the tree behind him.

He paused his onslaught of fire to look in the direction, giving me a sharp nod. He pulled his arm back and gathered up a ball of fire. I went back to fighting the roots, trying to cut the ones grabbing my hands away. The ones around me were up to my chest now and had immobilized me. They drew around my shoulders before working back down, drawing my arms close to my body and squeezing tight, leaving it much harder for me to breathe as I struggled fruitlessly to get out.

I looked up at a burst of raw red power coming from the opposite direction, and screamed as it headed towards Natsu. Although the roots hadn’t immobilized the top half of his body, he still couldn’t move out of the way. It hit him in the back like an arrow and I watched in horror as his eyes went wide. As his flames died out. The roots quickly disintegrated away as he fell, allowing him to hit the ground, face forward. I saw the blood pouring from the wound in his back. He struggled to his knees but was hit by the magic - formed arrow again. And again and again and again. I couldn’t see anything else as I looked into his eyes and saw the pain there. I didn’t even notice Happy collapsing a few feet away, staring at Natsu in shock.

“NATSU!” I yelled, trying to fight back the tears.  “STOP IT!” I screamed desperately at the man who was coming up behind him. His red eyes-the same color as that awful magic-had a strange glow and his face held a manic smile. Not like the one Natsu wore when excited - no this was a twisted manic, eyes holding no passion or warmth. His dark hair was cut short, flying every which way. He stood tall over Natsu, looking down on him. I lost the battle, and tears broke through, also coming from an angry desperation to get to him.  He looked up towards me. “Natsu…” I whispered, my voice breaking as I saw the fire start to die out of his eyes, his eyelids slowly closing.

“Natsu!” I cried louder. “Wake up, Natsu, there are still asses to kick!” I yelled desperately, tears continuing to spill.  Nothing.  There was no movement at all.  His back looked like a pincushion and I couldn’t see any of his skin. His blood was dripping down his body, soaking into the dirt on the ground. His eyes, which had just been alight with excitement and determination…then pain, were closed now. “NATSU!” I screamed in agony.

“Awh, how sad,”  The red eyed man cooed.  “But don’t worry, you’ll soon be joining him.”

“I will get out of here,” I growled to the stranger . “I will and I swear to Mavis it doesn’t matter if you’re gone I’m going to destroy you”

“Oh please,” He sneered.  “Do you know how many times I've heard declarations of revenge?” He asked, eyes seeming to grow more wild, a dangerous aura beginning to surround him.  “And do you know how many failed? Well...I’m still here, aren’t I?” He asked with a nasty smirk.  “Do you even know who I am?”  He asked gleefully.

“I don’t need to know who you are!” I spat back.  “I don’t give a shit who you are! I’m not them, and I swear you will regret hurting Natsu!”  I declared forcefully.

“I guess I’d better just dispose of you as well then,” he sneered, bringing his arm back. I stared defiantly at him even as an arrow formed in between his thumb and first two fingers.

“WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH” it was then that I came back to my senses and noticed Happy dive bombing the red-eyed man. Tears were running down his face and Happy dodged the man’s swats faster than I’d ever seen him move.

“HAPPY! HAPPY GO FIND HELP!” I screamed. “GO GET A DOCTOR! I’ll have them gone by the time you get back.” He seemed to snap out of the red haze he was in and flew up high. He nodded at me and turned to fly off. Before I could even blink he was gone.

The red eyed man made his way towards the mage restraining me and laughed. “My roots aren’t nothin to mess with, girlie.” He smirked at me.

“It’s a good thing I’m not either,” I said, smirking right back. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath as I let my anger, my hatred for these two men who were trying to rip away the heart of Fairy Tail. Rip away the soul of the man who had shown me an adventure I didn’t even know I needed.

In that moment, I felt it. The bright, gentle magic that lived inside of me. I breathed in, concentrating, and funneled my adrenaline, anger and hurt into that well.  I then breathed out, relaxing. “Star Dress-Leo” I whispered and the magic took hold. My magic grew, and I felt more powerful. I opened my eyes, staring at them before saying in a louder, clearer voice. “Regulas burst!” My magic burst out in a nova, disintegrating the ties and allowing me to move again. Before they could utter a word I grabbed three keys, slashing them through the air.

“Open! Gates of the Earth! Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo!” 

A bright light flashed in the clearing, leaving behind the three spirits. 

For the first time, I saw fear entering the eyes of the mages.  “Th-three spirits?” A nasty grin spread across my face, and I felt a pang of panic at first about how much I was enjoying their fear.

Capricorn and Taurus immediately attacked the men, striking so fast they didn’t even have time to draw their power.  They were hit with an onslaught of fists and feet, giving Virgo time to dig a trap behind them. Already I could feel my adrenaline - fueled power start to recede. I clung on desperately as Taurus and Capricorn fought and tried to knock the men back into the trap. Gripping my whip I joined the fray. With the three of us physically attacking, the red-eyed man and the root manipulator were soon overwhelmed and even with them fighting back, It didn’t take long before the two men were knocked out.

My vision became blurry and I fell to my knees, keeping hold of my magic as my spirits pulled the men into the dirt hole that Virgo had created. They sealed them there, the only things above ground being their heads.

“Virgo, Taurus, go back. I will stay here with Lady Lucy until Happy comes with help. I will use my own power to stay here” Capricorn instructed. They nodded to him, understanding that it had taken a lot of magic to open and keep open the three celestial gates. I didn’t hear much else as the spots went blurry and my vision darkened. I felt the pull on my power lessen and finally relaxed.

When I woke up it was to a room that I didn’t recognize. I could hear murmuring in the background, along with the crackling of a fire. My head pounded and I felt week.  I wracked my brain, trying to remember what happened.  I slowly opened my eyes, and was thankfully met with dim  and took in my surroundings.

I turned to my right and gasped, seeing Natsu on another cot. His eyes were blurry light.  I rapidly blinked, trying to rid myself of the blurriness. Another throb of pain hit my head and I groaned, using an insane amount of strength just to bring my heavy arms up to my head.

“...Lucy?”  I sucked in a breath and my heart stuttered as I heard the voice and everything came rushing back.  Pushing aside my own pain, I looked up to see a sight that filled my heart with warmth.

Natsu was sitting in a bed next to me, Happy clinging to him and crying. Natsu was petting him as he hugged him back.

“Natsu?” I whispered. He looked up and gave me a huge grin, but I could see the relief in his eyes.

“Lucy! Welcome back to the land of the living!” He said teasingly.

“What happened!? I thought you were dead!” I said tearfully, sitting up slowly to assess any damage. I swung my legs off the bed to face him, planting my feet on the floor.

“Oh, Natsu!” I exclaimed, relieved. I flung myself at him, stumbling between the beds and wrapping my arms around him, squishing Happy between us. He hissed and threw one arm back against his bed to brace us, while the other came up around my waist to hug me to him. Tears of relief were making their way down my face as I clung to him.

“Hey!” Happy protested, squished between us.

“And you!” I exclaimed. “I ended up passing out I guess,” I said sheepishly. “what happened?”

Wiggling out from between us, Happy started to explain. “I came back to town to find Jiro and told him to get a doctor and go find you guys in the clearing with the farm. Then I flew as fast as I could to get Wendy and brought her and Carla here! I knew Natsu would need her help. Your goat-man said that you had just fainted from using too much magic. And now Wendy’s sleeping in the other room cuz Carla said she used too much of her magic.” He said. I grabbed him and hugged him tight to my chest, where I was still against Natsu.

“You’re a hero, Happy! Without you we’d probably still be out there, and Natsu could’ve been…” I trailed off, not even wanting to finish the sentence. “Oh, Natsu…” I said, turning back to him. “I was so worried. I thought I’d lost you, and…and I don’t know what I would’ve done. You…you have no idea what that would’ve done to me, “ I choked out, trying to hold back even more tears.

“Oh Luce, didn’t you know?” I looked at him quizzically. Didn’t I know what? Was there some kind of dragon slayer thing he hadn’t told me about? “Avoiding death is my specialty!” He finished cheekily.

I groaned and smacked my forehead onto his chest.  I could feel him laugh as he tightened his arm around my waist, his other hand coming up to run through my hair.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Luce.  I don’t know what happened out there and you’ll have to fill me in, but i’m just so happy that you’re okay.”  He said, voice strained.  I froze as I felt him place a kiss on the top of my head.   My heart raced and warred with my mind.  

He doesn’t think of you like that, he’s just happy you’re okay!

But who kisses their friends!? I’ve been in trouble plenty of times and Gray’s never kissed me!

My thoughts were cut short as the door banged open, and I shot back and quickly stood, blocking Natsu from whoever had burst in.  I took a defensive stance, one hand flitting around my waist attempting to find my whip, before remembering my injuries.   I swayed on my feet as I fought through a dizzy spell, and tried to focus on who had come through.

“Lucy! Natsu!”  A commanding voice rang through the room and I relaxed as I felt Natsu put his feet on the ground and put one arm around my waist, and another grabbing my wrist to steady me.

“I am here to help!”  Erza declared, hands on hips and requipped into a nurses outfit.  I snorted as she walked over to me, and helped me over to my bed.  “Doctor’s orders, you are both to stay in bed until tomorrow.”  She lectured strictly. 

She was followed in by Gray, “I knew we should have gone with you, flame for brains.” He scoffed, but I could see the underlying worry and rolled my eyes.

“WHAT!?” Natsu yelled.  “We handled it just fine, and when I was down Lucy kicked ass! We didn’t need you!”  He shot back and I blushed, ducking my head.

“NO FIGHTING” Erza roared, and both boys shrunk away meekly.

I shook my head in exasperation and looked towards Natsu.  We shared a smile before I sunk back into my bend, lending half an ear to Erza’s continued lecture as I started to sink back into a sleep.

Even if Natsu doesn’t think of me that way, at least he cares.  And as long as I’m with Fairy Tail I'm surrounded by my family and that’s all that matters. 

That was my last thought before I gave in to sleep.

[lesdemonium]

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope Chapter 3

Ship: Geraskier Word count: 9,430 Chapter: 3/16

Summary:  

“Such a nice, beautiful sound,” the fae crooned. “If only he were this way always.”

Julian’s mother stood up. She claimed she was prepared to stop the fae, to protect her baby, but in Julian’s darkest moments he doubted this part of the story. His mother loved him, of that he had no doubt, but she had been young and weary, and even years later, she couldn’t quite get the twinge of exhaustion out of her eyes when she recalled Julian’s infancy. Even if she had been keen on protecting him, the fae was too close, too fast, too set on his plan.

“A gift, for the new mother,” the fae continued. He leaned a hand in to stroke Julian’s cheek. “I give you the gift of obedience.”

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier’s mother with Jaskier’s obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the “gift” became more of a curse.

Additional tags: AngstAngst with a Happy EndingHeavy AngstUnrequited LoveNot Actually Unrequited LoveAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanon EraNot Canon CompliantCursed Jaskier | DandelionAlternate Universe - Ella Enchanted FusionCurse of ObedienceRape/Non-con ElementsImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conJaskier | Dandelion Whump

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Being away from Geralt was harder than Jaskier ever anticipated. The safety, of course, was hard to replicate. Jaskier found his life was far easier when people stayed far away from him, though he did try his hardest to change the people’s tune on Geralt so that would happen less often . Let it be known that Jaskier was not a selfish friend--he truly tried to remedy Geralt’s reputation, even though there were many times that the witcher and any company he kept being completely unapproachable would have been exceedingly helpful to Jaskier. While Jaskier craved it, Geralt didn’t deserve it.

Truly, though, being away from Geralt was excruciating because Jaskier missed him .

It hit him as he was passing through Posada. He didn’t often make the return to Posada--it was kind of a shithole and even as he had started writing his amazing ballads, the crowds simply were not up to Jaskier’s standards. He figured it had been a while since he graced the lovely town with his skill, though, and so he had tried again to see if the crowds were more amiable. They were not. But, as he had already made it there and didn’t much feel like camping or traveling alone at night, Jaskier had gotten a room.

He and Geralt had parted ways months earlier, as Geralt went to Kaer Morhen for the winter. Even if Jaskier was not in much of an admitting mood, he had to confess that he was absently looking for Geralt. It was spring, surely Geralt would have left the keep, or was preparing to disembark. Jaskier wasn’t exactly sure where Kaer Morhen was or the route Geralt took to leave, but he reasoned that Posada had to be at least a decent guess.

Jaskier wanted to claim that he was absently searching for the witcher due to the protection he offered. Though he lied to everyone else, Jaskier did not much enjoy lying to himself. He was actively searching for the witcher because the past few months without him had been long and terrible and though Geralt had never been much for conversation, he was amazing for company. Also, Geralt’s particular brand of humor had been washing off on Jaskier and apparently it only seemed to work for persons who were large and brooding and vaguely terrifying.

Geralt was not in Posada, nor was he in Vengerberg, Aldersberg, or Rivia, but he was in Carreras. How Geralt beat him was anyone’s guess, but Jaskier found he was quite delighted to have found his witcher again.

“Geralt! Long time. I trust your winter was delightful. Full of witchery-like grunts and grimaces. I wonder, is there a witcher-to-common book in that reportedly extensive library of yours?” Jaskier greeted, arms wide in excitement (though Geralt eyed them warily like Jaskier was trying for a hug, and Jaskier would never mortify himself with that sort of expectation).

“Lambert and Eskel are more talkative. Not as talkative as you ,” Geralt answered with a huff as he continued walking, hauling the head of whatever beast he had just slain. Jaskier wanted to ask after the creature, but found himself far more interested in this snippet of his personal life Geralt was sharing with him.

“Ah, so it’s just you, then? Figures I should attempt to become the barker of a witcher who refuses to share gory details with me to his own benefit!” Jaskier knocked his shoulder into Geralt’s as he fell into step beside Geralt. To Jaskier’s great delight, he saw the corner of Geralt’s mouth tip up, just a smidge. Maybe Geralt had missed him, too.

“No. Vesemir talks less than me, now.”

Jaskier hummed. “So, Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir, they are…?” Jaskier trailed off, hoping Geralt would continue his information binge--and wasn’t that truly distressing, that this was what Jaskier would refer to as a binge --enough to fill in the blanks.

“Vesemir trained us. Lambert and Eskel are my brothers,” Geralt answered.

Jaskier was dying to ask more. He didn’t know where to begin. Before the words had finished leaving Geralt’s mouth, he had formed hundreds of questions on the training of witchers alone . Geralt had to speak to the alderman, though, and to interrupt him on his quest to get his coin would leave Jaskier with a cranky witcher on his hands, and less information than he would like. Besides, a barrage of questions had never helped him get anywhere with Geralt. Sometimes he could confuse Geralt into answering one or two just to get Jaskier to stop, but Jaskier had a suspicion Geralt was becoming immune to his charms.

“Geralt, what is next on our docket?” Jaskier asked as they walked away from the alderman, Geralt’s pockets significantly heavier, due in no small part to Jaskier’s wheedling and dramatizing about the creature--which he still did not know the name of. “Perhaps a vampire? A harpy? One of those disgusting eight-legged creatures with a face that looks like every nightmare ever had pressed together?”

“A brothel,” Geralt answered.

“Right. A… a brothel.” Jaskier frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. “And then what, my good sir? The nightmare creatures?”

Geralt shrugged. “I imagine then a good fuck. I don’t usually find nightmare creatures inside brothels.”

Jaskier groaned. Had the witcher not been practically speed-walking his way away from Jaskier, he would have shoved the witcher. Not that it would have done much good anyway, but Jaskier would have felt better. Like he had made his frustration known.

“Geralt, I hope you aren’t being evasive on purpose. I know you’ve missed me--or at the very least, missed the way I can talk you into some extra coin--and I won’t have you trying to avoid me and leave when I’m caught unawares.” Jaskier huffed, crossing his arms in frustration. “I am going to get myself a room at an inn. If you try to leave without me after you have relieved your carnal urges, I will write you a scathing song. You’ve seen how much good I can do when I’m singing your praises. Do not underestimate my ability to destroy your reputation through song.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but Jaskier liked to imagine he saw a flicker of fear in them. Jaskier would never do such a thing, but he’d certainly be heartbroken. It wouldn’t be the first time, but, like a sane person, he tried to avoid obvious heartbreak darkening his door.

The crowd, as he performed at the tavern that night, was much better than the one in Posada. They shouted out requests, laughed at his jokes, and stomped their feet more-or-less in time. Jaskier’s case was full of coins by the time the tavern door swung open and Jaskier was fully distracted by the witcher striding inside.

Jaskier had traveled with Geralt long enough to recognize displeasure on his face. It was hard to tell from his otherwise gruff and unhappy expressions, but Jaskier could read it in the tilt of his lips and the tension of his forehead. The witcher took a seat in the far back of the tavern, at one of the few open tables left, and though Geralt’s back remained to Jaskier, his head was tilted as if he was actually listening.

A moment later, Jaskier came back to himself. It would not do well for him to lose his audience, not when they were so enamored with him, and he had to put food in his belly somehow. Though every part of him longed to join Geralt, to inquire after what went wrong--because clearly something had, or Geralt would have remained in the brothel--Jaskier continued his performance. It wasn’t long, he had certainly done longer performances elsewhere, but it was long enough to keep the audience’s favor. Often, it was best to leave early, lest they lose interest.

Geralt was still at the table when Jaskier slid onto the bench across from him, but now he had an ale before him. And two empty ones besides.

“I expected you to be buried beneath a beautiful working girl for the better part of the night, and possibly into the early morning. No one there to your liking? Have you decided listening to my dulcet tones is a better way to satisfy your hunger?” Jaskier asked, winking.

“They stank. Every one of them.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Do they not have baths there? Perhaps that could have been your foreplay. You do so love a warm bath.”

Geralt’s head began to shake before Jaskier finished speaking. He took a drink of his ale, spending enough time on it that Jaskier wasn’t certain Geralt was going to offer the information Jaskier was so clearly missing. “Not like that,” Geralt finally answered. “Fear. Every one of them smelled like fear. Strongly.”

He shrugged, as if this was nothing, and Jaskier’s heart ached for him. He hadn’t realized the witcher could perceive that, though, at this point, Jaskier had been certain there were few surprises left. Evidently, he did not know as much about witcher physiology as he thought he did. He would have to do more to press Geralt about this, but perhaps not at a point when Geralt looked so… sick of himself.

“Perhaps if you gave it another go? Maybe they were caught off guard?” Jaskier asked, and again, Geralt was shaking his head before Jaskier finished speaking.

“I will not lie with someone terrified I’m going to rip their throat out,” he answered. Hard to argue with logic like that. “It’s fine. I’ll try again in another town.”

There was very little Jaskier could do to fix this. As much as people were beginning to welcome the witcher, Jaskier couldn't fix everyone’s perceptions of him. And if Geralt really could smell fear on them, well, there wasn’t much Jaskier could do about that, even if he did change the public perception of witchers. It would take a long time before the automatic fear response went away. It was baffling, though. Jaskier couldn’t imagine how anyone could look at Geralt and not want to bed him.

“Well. Save your coin tonight, friend. I already have a room, and you are welcome to join me!” Jaskier announced cheerily.

Geralt snorted into his drink. “I’ll get my own room, bard.”

“Ah, yes, well, that is the thing. There is a rather large chance I have purchased the last remaining room.” Jaskier grimaced at Geralt. “I’m afraid it was less an offer of loneliness, but rather an offer of necessity.”

Geralt grimaced right back. “You needn’t sacrifice your room. I’ll find other lodgings.”

“No,” Jaskier insisted, shaking his head. “Geralt, really. Share my room. I will endeavor to give you space when we sleep, but you know I cannot help what I do while I am unconscious. Hence why I will fund this particular stay in a real bed that I know you will hold over my head for the length of our travels tomorrow. But I must insist that you stay here, and not only because I am still afraid you will leave despite my warnings of a scathing song.”

Geralt snorted again, and finished the last of his ale. “Fine, Jaskier. Only if you stop talking , though.” He pushed back from the table and stood up, looking expectantly at Jaskier.

“You know I can make no such promise,” Jaskier answered, though he grinned as he stood up.

Though this night undoubtedly was terrible for Geralt, it was shaping up to be exactly what Jaskier wanted. Even if sharing a bed rarely went well for them, as Jaskier had a tendency of wrapping himself around Geralt in his sleep, much like a snake would to squeeze the life out of their meal. Still, Geralt followed after Jaskier, and they oscillated between idle chit-chat and companionable silence as they both staged their belongings in the room and undressed for bed.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started, sitting on the bed as Geralt continued the long, arduous process of removing his armor.

“Jaskier?” Geralt answered.

“You can smell fear on people?”

Geralt paused for a moment, his hand stilling over his armor as he placed it carefully away. He nodded, and said, “Yes. It smells… sickly sweet. Like rotting fruit.”

Jaskier nodded back, mulling this over for a moment. “Have you ever smelled it on me?”

Geralt shrugged, returning to removing his armor, though he was now more methodical than he had been. Like he was trying to keep his hands busy. Curious.

“At times,” he answered. “When a beast gets too close to you, or when that drunk swiped a knife at you.” Jaskier shuddered at the memory, and just barely caught Geralt’s smile before it disappeared.

“Never with you, though, right?” Jaskier said this urgently, and Geralt turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. Whatever he found on Jaskier’s face made him hum, and he turned to abandon the last piece of armor.

“Once. When you asked about the fae. But it was… faint. I don’t think it had anything to do with me.”

“It didn’t,” Jaskier answered immediately, then winced. It was important to Jaskier that Geralt knew Jaskier didn’t fear him, but he didn’t want Geralt to press on why Jaskier had been a touch afraid during that conversation. It wasn’t time, Jaskier didn’t have the words, and he just prayed to every god out there with a silent Please. Please let him not ask.

Geralt turned to Jaskier, an eyebrow raised, but he didn’t ask. Only looked at Jaskier. They both stayed there for a moment, watching each other, and as Jaskier stood from his seat on the bed, Geralt’s gaze turned guarded.

“So you’ve never smelled fear of you on me?” Jaskier clarified.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed, and his head shake was slow. He didn’t understand where Jaskier was going with this. Jaskier wasn’t surprised.

“So it’s possible for humans to look at you, and never feel fear because of you. It’s possible for someone to look at you and only see how amazing you are.” He paused, and looked at Geralt. His features took on a wounded quality, but he didn’t turn away from Jaskier, nor say anything. Instead, amber eyes stayed locked on Jaskier’s, and though he looked skeptical, this felt like permission to continue. Jaskier took a few steps forward, until he was just before Geralt. Jaskier could lean forward and kiss him, if he wanted. He so desperately did, but he wasn’t sure yet if Geralt would.

“You are not a monster, Geralt of Rivia. And even if it takes a hundred songs, I will make sure that one day you will have forgotten about the time when you had to sniff out fear before taking someone to bed.”

Geralt glanced down at his lips. It was just the briefest of glances, but Jaskier saw it. He shuffled closer, and tentatively put his hands on Geralt’s chest. Geralt hesitated only a moment, before taking Jaskier’s hips, and the corner of his mouth quirked.

“Bold words,” Geralt said. He wanted to say so much more, Jaskier could tell, but the words evaded him. Jaskier smiled.

“I am not afraid of you. And I won’t be the last.” Jaskier said the words softly, seriously, like a promise.

It was a promise. Jaskier had already seen a shift in the witcher’s treatment. Surely if he kept going, wrote more songs, he’d be able to keep Geralt as safe as Geralt had unwittingly kept Jaskier. Geralt deserved better, deserved more, deserved anything and everything the world could offer him. If Jaskier could do anything to change Geralt’s life, Jaskier would do it without question.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaskier asked, breathless. He didn’t mean to ask it, but with Geralt so close, touching Jaskier, and allowing himself to be touched by Jaskier, how could the bard resist?

Geralt answered by closing the distance between them. The kiss started off slow, exploratory, as if Geralt was waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the stench of fear to overtake him. Jaskier could say, with certainty, that this didn’t happen. Jaskier allowed himself to be kissed at Geralt’s pace, as he slid his hands up to cup Geralt’s neck.

Soon, the kiss turned hungry.

Jaskier’s heart hammered in his chest as Geralt backed him up against the bed. Jaskier pulled away only to clamber onto the mattress, tugging Geralt with him until Geralt hovered over Jaskier. Geralt pushed Jaskier’s doublet and shirt out of the way, but made no move to remove them, and Jaskier untucked Geralt’s shirt as bruises were sucked and bit into his neck.

“Should’ve known you’d be bitey,” Jaskier teased, and he couldn’t remember the last time sex had made him this breathless this early. He thumbed at the fasteners on Geralt’s pants until they were undone, then pushed his trousers down. It wasn’t an elegant move, nor an elegant angle as Jaskier pressed his hand inside and against Geralt’s hardening cock, but Geralt replied with a groan that spoke of want .

“Does it bother you?” Geralt asked, trailing down to leave similar bite marks along Jaskier’s collarbone.

“Not in the slightest.”

Geralt’s laugh was breathy against Jaskier’s skin, and quickly descended into a bitten off moan as Jaskier finally, awkwardly, got a hand around Geralt’s cock. His touch was light, his only goal presently was to get the witcher hard for him, and to Jaskier’s delight, that didn’t take long. Geralt pressed his face against Jaskier’s neck, and Jaskier could have sworn Geralt smelled him, and something about it had Geralt’s cock twitching in Jaskier’s hand.

“Take your pants off,” Geralt ordered.

Jaskier’s body complied, but his blood went ice cold. Geralt must have noticed this, because he pulled back and met Jaskier’s eyes. Tried to, anyway. Jaskier couldn’t look at him, just kept his eyes trained on his trousers and smallclothes, which he now kicked to the side, off the bed.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, a hand on Jaskier’s jaw, forcing Jaskier to look at him. Amber, even now, with his pupils blown wide with desire.

Of course Geralt, with his enhanced senses, would notice. Jaskier flushed and offered him a half-hearted shrug and a shaky laugh. “I don’t like being bossed. That’s all. It’s fine. Are we going to do this, or not?” he answered, with all the bravado he could.

Geralt watched him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, but if he thought Jaskier would reveal more to him, he was incredibly wrong. Finally, he pressed forward to kiss Jaskier again, licking into his mouth. As he distracted Jaskier with the kiss, which quickly turned filthy , Geralt kicked his own clothes off and ground down against Jaskier’s hips in a move that had them both panting, open mouthed against each other.

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier breathed.

He held Geralt’s hip, his fingers pressing into the flesh of his ass. Geralt pressed their bodies close, rutting up against Jaskier’s hip and pressing his own abdomen against Jaskier’s cock. It wasn’t quite enough pressure, but his brain didn’t seem to care, as the motion drew a chorus of moans and many renditions of Yes, please, Geralt from his mouth. As Geralt moved, Jaskier captured both of their cocks in his hand, pressing them together and the new pressure, the new friction, had them both biting off swears into each other’s mouths. They weren’t kissing so much anymore as panting, heavily, against the other’s lips.

“Jaskier,” Geralt moaned, turning and pressing his face into Jaskier’s neck again.

Jaskier lost himself as he came, though Geralt kept moving, and in a distant way Jaskier felt the oversensitive twinge of his cock as the witcher rutted against him. He came back to his body just as Geralt’s found his release, and Geralt caught his lips in a bruising kiss that had Jaskier tugging at Geralt’s hair brutally.

The fervor left slowly, and Geralt rolled off him and to the side as Jaskier followed, unwilling to sever this connection just yet. Geralt made a sound that Jaskier chose to interpret as a happy grunt, or at the very least a satisfied grunt, and Jaskier could understand. He was feeling pretty satisfied himself.

“You don’t like to be bossed?” Geralt asked, pulling away. He held his head up by his hand, his elbow pressed into the bed, and looked down at Jaskier curiously.

Jaskier had approximately zero interest in having this conversation as Geralt stared into his soul , so he pushed himself up to sitting. He shrugged off his doublet, tossing it to the side with far more nonchalance than he normally would have. The bed was warm and he had every interest in staying where it was warm, thank you. He left his shirt on, though. It was a ridiculous look, he was well aware, but there was something comforting in it. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be fully bared while he carefully talked around Geralt’s question.

“No, I don’t,” he answered, shrugging. “I don’t like people telling me what to do or ordering me about. Obviously I wanted to remove my pants, or I wouldn’t have done it--” Geralt’s breath in was audible, and Jaskier feared he heard the lie, so Jaskier barrelled on “--but I don’t like being told to.”

Geralt was quiet for long enough that Jaskier finally turned to look at him. He looked at Jaskier as if Jaskier was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. Jaskier couldn’t blame him. After a moment, though, he held a hand out to Jaskier, which Jaskier gladly took, and slotted himself against the witcher’s body.

“I will remember that,” Geralt promised, and Jaskier’s heart fluttered in his chest. “For… next time?”

Jaskier grinned and nodded. “For next time.”

read chapter 4

[smallhatlogan]

Why Nonbinary Borderlands Fans are Mad About Zer0′s Pronouns, In a Timeline

2012

Zer0 was introduced in Borderlands 2 as a character meant to be absurdly mysterious in almost every way.  Zer0 is apparently not their real name, they seem not to be human (but it’s unclear if they’re an alien, robot, or something else entirely), no one knows where they came from, etc. Still, in Borderlands 2, they defaulted to he/him, and was assumed male.  It’s worth noting that Borderlands 2 also featured Bloodwing, Mordecai’s pet alien bird. In the original Borderlands Bloodwing was referred to as he/him, but switched between games to she/her. This is explained outside the game by Burch, who says that Bloodwing’s species changes gender halfway through life.

2013

Gearbox released the Diamond Plate Loot Chest. In it was the “Pandoran Gazette” an in-universe newspaper. It included an “Ask Doctor Tannis” advice column, the last question being:

Dear Doctor Tannis,

I have heard you are acquainted with the vault hunter known as "Zer0". I have been meaning to ask - that's not really his true name, is it? Hell, maybe Zer0 isn't even a "he". Do you have any details on this mysterious figure?

- Curious in Old Haven

Dear Curious,

I am indeed acquainted with the towering stack of leather and poorly-written poetry that so many refer to as "Zer0". As you have correctly noted, "Zer0" is not the Vault Hunter's true name. Zer0's actual name and gender are (CONTINUED ON PAGE 9)

Page 9 was not included. To my knowledge, this was where it was first seeded that Zer0 may not be male. 

November 2, 2014

 In a panel titled “Playing as a female character panel - Does it Matter” during PAX Australia, Gearbox CEO Randy Pitchford discussed Zer0’s gender:

“The other things that’s interesting to me is sometimes when there’s characters that don’t have a gender or have an ambiguous gender I’ll choose them...In Borderlands 2 we left Zer0’s identity very ambiguous. What gender is he?” *crowd laughs* “We need better pronouns, don’t we? Don’t we need better pronouns?” (Timestamp) 

“What’s the gender of Zer0?….That says more about me than it does say about Zer0, the fact that I use the pronoun he when I describe Zer0. In fact, um, we purposely have left Zer0’s gender ambiguous. There’s a lot of folks at Gearbox that like to think that maybe Zer0’s of a particular species that doesn’t have gender- That is more androgynous.”  (Timestamp) 

(Timeline continues under cut)

November 25th, 2014

The first episode of Tales From the Borderlands was released. Anthony Burch answered this question on his Ask.fm: 

To my memory, tumblr blew up with excited nonbinary fans. Prior to seeing screenshots of this, I really didn’t have interest in Borderlands. The idea of a cool nonbinary character who used they/them pronouns, admist a virtual desert of representation, made me play through the entire series as fast as I could so I could catch up in time to see these pronouns in action. For a long time afterwards I’ve seen other nonbinary people expressing the same sudden interest in the series after learning this about Zer0. Because, yeah, it was a pretty big deal. 

2015: 

Zer0 appeared again in episode 5 of Tales, released almost a year later after the first. Their voice had changed to one that sounds more ambiguous in terms of gender, but Zer0 was still being referred to as “he/him”. Anthony Burch was one of the writers on this episode. Afterward, he answered this on his ask.fm:

Since he claimed it was honestly a mistake, nonbinary fans held out hope. There were posts going around tumblr clarifying that yes, Zer0 was still nonbinary, and still was meant to use they/them pronouns. It was just a mistake made by a thoughtless cisgender man. Of course, then some presumably-cisgender fan goes to Burch, and validates him, because clearly a character can’t just up and CHANGE pronouns! It’s not like anyone ever does that in real life! 

It’s not a fair point. It’s a dumb point from someone who has no stakes in this.  (Another thing worth noting is it has only been other characters who referred to Zer0 as he/him. Zer0 has never made a point of standing up for their own pronouns.) After this Burch just kind of gives up on the whole idea. 

This statement about characters being “progressive enough not to misgender someone” is weird, because the characters, even the sympathetic ones, in Borderlands have often blatantly failed to be progressive. The original Borderlands has the worst of it, it’s your basic 2009 edgelord shit. There’s blatant misogyny, not to mention the extremely homophobic joke surrounding Mr. Shank (and within that the transphobic joke about his girlfriend being a man in a wig). Burch only started writing for the game in Borderlands 2, however. It’s a huge step up, but there’s still a lot of bigotry. Captain Scarlett makes a “no fatties” joke. Mr Torgue fat-shames Ellie. Mr Torgue uses the R-slur. Multiple characters slut-shame Moxxi. Incest jokes surrounding Scooter, who also is implied to be a huge creep towards women.  Heck, there’s the entirety of Sir Hammerlock’s Big Game Hunt DLC is a racist, colonialist mess. Its antagonist is implied to be gay, one of two gay male characters introduced thus far, and he’s a pathetic, creepy stalker.  This is the game series where there are two common enemy types whose names are straight up ableist.  So citing characters as being “too progressive” rings hollow with this context.  Besides, trans people are often misgendered, even by people who’d otherwise be considered progressive.  Burch left Gearbox the same year, so he’s not entirely to blame for what anything afterwards. He just set a pretty bad precedent.

2019:

Gearbox did seem to take the “make a new nonbinary character” thing to heart.  They give us Fl4k, again a nonhuman character, who uses they/them pronouns. And okay, I love Fl4k, but like most nonbinary people I’m tired of all nonbinary characters being robots, aliens, or otherwise non-human in appearance (a trope that yes, Zer0 falls into as well). Still, Fl4k is cute and having a nonbinary playable character who uses they/them pronouns is cool! I definitely plan to play as them. Many nonbinary fans were suspicious though, it seemed likely that Fl4k might be meant to appease us and they could keep on using he/him for Zer0. We were proven right when they released the gameplay preview on May 1st. We hear Zer0 called “he”. None of us are surprised, but it still hurts, we felt like we’d been baited with Zer0.  Besides, why can only one character at a time be nonbinary? Why can a bird change pronouns but not a person? Why was a writer allowed to go out and promise this if it wasn’t going to be followed through on (yes, he didn’t use the word “promise” but telling a marginalized group something like that isn’t something you can just “forget” without people feeling betrayed)?

And that’s where we’re at, as of me writing this. I feel like there are some comments I’m bound to get on this, so I’ll answer them here: Why are you making such a big deal about this?

Me typing a few paragraphs isn’t making a big deal. But I feel misled and baited. After a few years of no clarification after Burch promising us they/them Zer0, a lot of people hung on to hope. A lot of people became big fans of Zer0 because they’re a fun, badass, nonbinary character. Their design is really, really rad! And heck, they were (at least for a time) the most popular playable character in Borderlands 2. Telling everyone, in-game, “actually Zer0 was never really a he, they’ve been a ‘they’ this whole time” would have been HUGE. Like how Blizzard made Overwatch’s poster girl, Tracer, canonically a lesbian, and then revealed their badass gruff guy (who fills the roll of your basic FPS protagonist), Soldier 76, to be a gay man. They/them are still not widely accepted pronouns. For us who use them, it’s difficult to convince people not to default to something gendered. Especially when we fail to appear completely androgynous. I’ve been told Zer0 can’t possibly be nonbinary because they have a deep voice and “masculine” body shape. But real nonbinary people come in all shapes and sizes with all kinds of voices! 

What about Fl4k?

As I said, I’m very happy about Fl4k. They fall into some problematic tropes even more than Zer0 (as Fl4k is verified beyond a doubt to be a robot, and has an “acceptable” androgynous shape to them). I don’t know their voice yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if it also fell into the category of “acceptably androgynous”. Fl4k is new and already “they/them”. Zer0 is an established character who already has a lot of fans among a bunch of different groups of people. There’s definite value in demonstrating a character can switch pronouns, since pretty much every nonbinary person who uses they/them haven’t used those pronouns their entire life. Besides, there can and should be more than one nonbinary character.  Fl4k being nonbinary but not Zer0 kind of feels like Gearbox expects us to shut up and be happy with what we’re given.

What about nonbinary people who use he/him pronouns? Can’t Zer0 be that?

Those people are real and valid.  However, we’re talking about real people versus a fictional character. I admit I’d feel better if it was stated, in-game, “Yeah, Zer0 is nonbinary and uses he/him”. But even then, it’s REALLY EASY for cisgender people to ignore that information and write Zer0 off as male (And knowing gearbox, they’d put it somewhere easily missed. I’ve surprised so many straight people who’d played through Borderlands 2 with the fact that Sir Hammerlock is gay, simply because it was only verified in a side quest). And you know, we were promised they/them, so like, not doing that kind of sucks. Also I think it’s really important to normalize they/them.

So what are we supposed to do about this? What do you expect to change, anyways?

Honestly? I don’t expect Gearbox to fix this so late. In all likelihood, that’s way too much dialogue to re-record. But I still think it’s worth making our voices heard. We shouldn’t silently put up with this kind of thing. Other people will pull the same shit, being either unsympathetic or unaware of the harm they do. And heck, it’s unlikely, but maybe Gearbox will at least acknowledge their wrongdoing.

Also, it’s maybe worthwhile to ignore canon, and keep referring to Zer0 as “they/them”, or if this whole thing is news to you, it’s not too late to start. It would mean a lot to nonbinary fans, and make a point about how Zer0 is regarded.

[brittysaucefanfic]

A Fate Unclaimed

Part 22

(First)(Previous)(Next)(Last)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3) 

Yoooo I just realized I didn't post the new update on this story on tumblr and I am very ashamed. On the bright side I actually updated something! When I go through to fix this tomorrow I'll add an under the cut and the links but I'm lazy and tired. Lmao I won't keep you guys any longer. Let's go!

******

Lance stirs as the sun begins to set, and Keith is the first to notice. They had set up camp, which pretty much meant they just walked until they found a small plateau and hunkered down in an overhang. Shiro and Keith are the only ones awake, whereas Pidge and Hunk had passed out as soon it was clear they were all safe for the time being. They huddle close to Lance, one of his hands in each of theirs.

Shiro stands on watch at the edge of the overhang, a good few feet away, a sword pierced into the ground, hands settled over the hilt. He looks like a sentry, and Keith actually wishes for once he had some sort of artistic talent so that he could draw Shiro. Sadly, all of his skills lay with battle. Lance’s head shifts to the side to look at Keith, eyes still closed, tear tracks stained on his dirt covered face.

His eyes open to reveal a brilliant blue.

Keith and Lance have a tenuous friendship at best, but with the nonstop action the past two days, they haven’t had a chance to figure out which side of the scale they tilt towards. Friends or enemies. Even then though, a crushing relief surges into Keith’s chest. He’s lost a lot already, he won’t lose Lance, friend or enemy, doesn’t matter.

“Welcome to the land of the living sleeping beauty,” is the first thing out of Keith’s mouth. It doesn’t come out smooth whatsoever, and he feels his ears burn at the blurted pet name. He has never said anything like that. Not once in his life. There’s a silence for a moment, then Lance smiles, something slow that makes Keith’s pulse race just a little.

“Perhaps I’m still asleep if you’re using pet names now Samurai.” Lance mutters, he goes to sit up, but stops mid way when he realizes his hands are trapped. A soft look crosses his face as he eases free his hands, careful not to wake the demigods clutching onto him in their sleep.

“Lance, you’re awake.” Shiro says, easing over to the two of them, his shoulders losing some of the tension they had been holding as he stood guard. Shiro moves to sit beside the bundle of demigods so that he may look out for dangers.

“So it seems,” Lance muses quietly, smile slipping into a disturbed frown. The change is confusing to Keith, why does Lance seem so troubled? “How long was I out?” There is nothing in the way he asks it that seems out of place, but Keith still frowns when he senses something off.

“Only a day, thanks to Apollo.” Shiro says, and Keith is reminded that the wait wasn’t as long as it had seemed. To Keith it seemed like days. He’s never been the best when it came to patience, one of the many things Shiro bemoans about him.

“Apollo to the rescue? Did he,” Lance pauses. “Say anything?” It’s Shiro’s turn to look troubled. Keith realizes with a jolt that it’s so easy to read Lance’s facial expressions because they look almost identical to Shiro’s. Not his face, just the faces he makes. Perhaps if he imagined everyone to make the same expressions as Shiro, it would help Keith in his ‘social awkwardness’ as Shiro calls it.

“Yeah, Pidge asked why you weren’t claimed,” Shiro starts. “He said something about you not being for the Gods to claim yet."

The look on Lance's face tightens considerably, darkening. The conversation seems to have woken up the two sleeping beauties. Hunk stirs first, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with a yawn. Before he even opens his eyes, the first thing he does is straighten his slightly crooked orange headband, tightening it, then he reaches over to Pidge and goes to wake her up.

What's interesting to Keith is the fact that he doesn't shake her shoulder like one would expect. Instead he reaches underneath her chin and lightly runs his nail back and forth on her chin like she's a cat. Pidge scrunches her nose, then like lightning, she snaps her teeth at Hunk's hand. He pulls away like he was expecting it. This all happens with neither of them opening their eyes, and Pidge sits up grumbling.

"That's still unnerving you know." Lance says casually.

"Hey if it works it works." Hunk mumbles, still rubbing his eyes with continuous yawns.

"Lance can you hand me my glasses?" Pidge says as she stretches her arms above her head. Lance silently hands her the pair of glasses that are too big for her small face. Pidge is midway between slipping on her glasses when both Pidge and Hunk freeze and tense. Their eyes snap open almost simultaneously, and just as simultaneously they both screech Lance's name. Again, nearly simultaneously, they lunge at Lance and take him to the ground in a pile of limbs. Lance's breath rushes from him in an audible huff.

"Lance!" They yell, then Pidge's voice takes over Hunk's briefly.

"We thought you were a goner!"

Hunk then takes over the screeching. "Don't scare us like that!"

Lance laughs breathily, patting both of their backs with a groan and a wince. As they lean back away from him Lance rubs his once injured shoulder. There are still a few prominent black veins around where the wound originated, the last vestiges of the poison in his veins. The hole itself has closed, though ungracefully, looking more like a knot in a tree than skin.

It doesn't bulge prominently, but it's obvious that the skin healed far faster than it should have, leaving being a small raised knot. The skin twists around almost in a full circle, and with the black veins still prominent it isn't the nicest sight to look at. Keith looks away from the wound to Lance's face, locking eyes with a piercing pair of blue eyes. Lance offers him a small, tight smile and they break eye contact like it never happened.

"Yeah, I don't exactly plan on doing anything like nearly dying again." Lance says, then his lips form a grin that Keith might imagine to be a leer. "At least not until I've had sex first."

"Ugh!" Pidge cries out in disgust, shoving Lance back onto the ground as he cracks up laughing like a maniac. "You're deplorable!"

"Ooh that's a big word Pidgey. Good job! Such a smart girl you are!" Lance mocks, baby voice and all. She picks up a small rock and aims it at his head. Lance dodges with hardly a blink of surprise. Her face slowly drops the playful glare, and turns somber.

"We were really scared Lance. I-" she cuts herself off with a shaky inhale. "I've already lost my brother, but there's still a chance to find Matt. You- you nearly died. There is no return from death." She stops, not saying anything more, but the tears welling up in her eyes say everything. Lance gathers her in his arms and strokes her head, Pidge clinging onto him. Hunk, not one to be left out of an emotional hug, gathers them both into his arms, thick fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He cries silently though, nothing to hear but sniffles.

There's a moment of silence as Keith watches the three of them.

Something wells up in his chest, making him look away with a lump in his throat. Shiro's hand settles on Keith's shoulder, and Keith doesn't have to look up to know that Shiro is smiling at him in that big brother kind of way that he does.

"Okay that's enough!" Pidge snaps, squirming out of the group hug and settling herself on the ground with huff. She straightens her glasses and wipes at her eyes. "So, now that Lance is better do we need to start moving on to whatever it is we were sent on this quest to do?"

Suddenly it's business?

"Actually," Hunk chimes, wiping at his own eyes but still sitting with an arm around Lance. Pidge scoots quietly closer, so that Lance's knees and hers touch but nothing more. Lance and Pidge both hide their hands behind the touching knees for some reason. Are they a couple maybe? For some reason that image makes Keith want to separate them two with his own body. He doesn't, though, because that would be weird.

"What are we supposed to be doing?" Hunk asks. "Like we have a map, but no clue on what the quest is actually about? Are we stopping a bunch of monsters? Killing some ancient evil entity? Fighting rogue demigods?"

"Rogue demigods?" Lance repeats, one eyebrow arched high into his hairline. Hunk shrugs defensively.

"Maybe something Macaria talked to you about will give us a clue?" Shiro hints at Lance, his usually top notch subtlety somehow not being put to good use. Lance looks away, at the ground, the hand not hidden behind his knee picking at the torn up jeans he wears. He shivers as a breeze picks up suddenly, and Keith realizes Lance is still completely shirtless.

Keith pointedly does not look away from Lance's face as he slips off his dark red leather jacket and hands it to Lance. He takes it gratefully and slips it on. Keith ignores the chill that racks his spine when another cool breeze passes. Lance is the one who almost died, Keith can suffer a little chill. Not that he hasn't done so before anyways.

"We talked about a few things, but not much about the quest. Though," Lance trails off. "I have a decent idea of what's going on."

"You do?" Shiro asks, surprised. It seems he never expected Lance to answer.

"I had a dream while I was," Lance swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing at his throat. For some reason Keith is enthralled with the movement. "Dying. A nightmare more like actually." They're silent as they wait for Lance to elaborate. "I was in Camp, and it was empty. Then a strange man spoke to me like he knew who I was. He said-" Lance pauses, hesitates.

"Well it doesn't matter what he said, but I think he plans to overthrow the gods. He showed me the camp in ruins, flames, and the camp looking like some Disney villain army encampment. The same thing with the Roman camp. As well as two others I don't recognize, but I'm fairly positive they were demigod camps. Of some kind." Lance explains. His face turns twisted like he's in pain.

"Do you have any idea who it is?" Hunk asks. Lance shrugs unevenly, one shoulder higher than the other.

"I don't know, I've never seen the man before but Coran gave me a- the journal!" Lance bursts out in panic surging to his feet, wobbling, then rummaging through all of the packs and supplies. The sudden burst of movement makes Keith flinch unintentionally.

"Journal?" Hunk asks. "What journal?"

Lance finishes off one pack, the contents strewn across the ground haphazardly, and moves onto the next in much the same manner. Lance mutters frantically underneath his breath. He forgoes taking everything out one at a time and just dumps the pack upside down. This one is clearly Hunk's pack as a bunch of random gadgets and mechanical pieces crash to the ground.

"Hey!" Hunk whines, though he doesn't sound that upset about the mess. More like he's concerned. Or worried. Or scared. Or a lot of things actually. Keith needs to learn how to read people better.

"Coran gave me a journal that seemed really important and necessary and I need to find it!" Lance says. Pidge is the one to cry out indignantly when it's her pack being turned over.

"Geez lance be careful! And have you thought to look in your pack first?" Pidge huffs. Lance pauses in his rummaging and looks for his pack, as if he had suddenly remembered he had one of his own. He dives for it like a volleyball player diving to save the ball from touching the ground. Soon Lance's stuff joins the mess.

His stuff isn't quite so unique compared to the gadgets in Hunk's pack and the computer and stuff in Pidge's. In actuality his pack almost resembles Shiro's, the first pack to be rummaged through. Shiro seems to have no concern over Lance going wildly through their stuff as he watches out into the darkness of night.

The flames of the small fire cast flickering shadows on the wall of the overhang, coating the entire group in an eerie glow. Once again Keith wishes he could draw, to capture the moment on paper. The way the fire dancing across Shiro's face makes his scar almost dance with it, his metal arm shimmering with the light. The way Pidge is cast in Hunk's shadows, and how Hunk looks looming and dangerous with the flames touching his dark brown eyes.

And Lance.

The way Lance moves so frantically through his pack, the flickering light making Lance's movements seem like he's moving through water. Like he is water. A form barely held together as a whole. It's makes his tan skin glow gold like Apollo's. His blue eyes nearly glow, white teeth gnawing at his lower lip. Dark hair twisting around his head in flashes of flame and flashes of darkness. Keith's red jacket like their own flames engulfing Lance's body.

Keith swallows thickly and looks away.

Somehow his eyes land on the very thing Lance is looking for. It's hidden beneath his jacket, now torn at the shoulder where Lance was injured, a dark red stain surrounding the hole. It makes sense that no one thought to look there. The jacket is pushed up against the wall in a heap, dark enough that it blends with the dark dirt and far enough away that the flames don't cast light upon it. The journal that peeks out from beneath is dark too, but the pale cream of the pages on the side is a bright spot against so much dark.

Keith eases up slowly, not wanting to cause any unwanted attention. Everyone's eyes are on Lance as he gives a short shout of frustration. Keith grabs the book before Lance can start making a mess of his pack too and stops Lance from going after it with a hand on his shoulder. He holds the journal out delicately, looking Lance in the eyes. His pretty blues are misty with tears that haven't fallen.

"Is this it?" Keith asks near silently. The misty look disappears from his eyes and he goes to grab the book from Keith. The movement at first is violent, reaching to grab the book and yank it from Keith's hands. Then as Lance settles his long fingers around the spine, their fingertips touching just barely, his movement slows to a crawl. He slowly takes the book from Keith's grasp. The brief contact wasn't a lot but it still sent hot tingles up his wrist.

"Thank you." Lance says. And then the charged moment snaps as their eyes look away from each other. Lance settles on the ground with a heavy thump and an even heavier sigh.

Keith returns to his place on the other side of the fire. The seating is no longer one sided though, the four of them no longer on one side and he on the other. Shiro, Pidge and Hunk still sit across from Keith, facing out into the openness beyond. But now Keith and Lance sit on the other side, next to each other, knees almost touching.

Keith is not a thinking type of person.

He doesn't think about his actions most of the time, he just goes for it and damned be the consequences. It's gotten him kicked out of many schools, thrown out of many foster homes, and unintentionally made him a bully or a victim. Sometimes (most times) he was the stronger one, making Keith the bully even though the other kids started it. Other times he was the smaller one and the other kids had the advantage so Keith became the victim.

So he's no philosopher, and he's no ponderer.

But it seems even Keith can make an exception. He knows he's not the brightest when it comes to other people. It's hard to understand the emotions and feelings on their faces, and the intentions behind their actions. He's not even used to being so thoughtful about what he isn't.

He's never before lamented he was a fighter and not an artist. He's never lamented that he sometimes can't understand other people unless they explain it to him in clear words. He's never lamented the fact that he's technically only ever had one friend, and that's Shiro. But now? Now he wants it all with a burning passion.

He wants to understand jokes so he can laugh with other people. He wants to understand facial expressions and body language so he can be the one to comfort someone else for once. He wants to have friends other than Shiro who won't just disappear when he gets too much of a burden.

There's always been a metaphorical line that separates him from other people. One that he tries desperately to cross but he can't see it. Only those on the other side know where the line is and refuse to let him cross into their world. Up until now Shiro was the only one who ever crossed the line to Keith. Now, just as Lance sits beside him on one side of the fire, so might he stand beside him on Keith's side of the line.

Or perhaps Lance has one foot on either side, ready to cross either which way but not decided on which side he would choose yet. Keith vainly hopes Lance leans to Keith's side, but he won't know until Lance crosses completely.

"So," Shiro finally speaks up, drawing the word out with a faint southern drawl. Shiro isn't southern, but Keith is. It makes Keith wonder if maybe Shiro picked up on Keith's barely there southern accent. If that's even possible. "What's so important about the journal?" Shiro asks.

"I don't know yet. I haven't read anything from it but something about the man in the dream made me think of Coran and subsequently the journal." Lance explains. He cuts himself off with a yawn before continuing. "Whoever he was though he was good at controlling my dream. He had me paralyzed, barely able to speak, let alone move. And he said something along the lines of him seeing my impending death on my soul."

"Huh." Pidge says, a hand on her chin in thought. "A son of Hypnos maybe? Since he could control dreams?"

"No," Lance says as he shakes his head. "He's too powerful. If he's a demigod, which is still unclear, I'd say he rivals the power of Shiro and Allura. I could see it."

That makes Keith curious, the way he said that. As if the power coming off of the strange man in the dream was something he could actually see. Something corporeal, something he could touch. His mouth is speaking before Keith has a chance to realize he's doing it.

"What do you mean by you can 'see it'?" Keith asks. Lance snaps his head to the side to stare at Keith with wide eyes, then stares at the journal in his lap, picking at the leather cord binding the pages closed.

"Uh, well." Lance stammers. "Okay so, you can't laugh at me. I swear I'm telling you the truth."

"Lance." Shiro says in a calming voice, finally looking away from the nighttime darkness. "You can tell us anything. We're your friends."

Lance stares at Shiro for a long moment, making the silence between the five of them grow tense. The only sounds in the air are the crickets and the distant howling of bobcats or coyotes or whatever big predator animals the desert have. Lance finally slumps his shoulders with a sigh.

"So ever since I was young I get these," Lance pauses to try and figure out the words. "Flashes of color around certain people, and it didn't really happen until I learned of my godly blood. Then it happened more often but I kind of learned to ignore it like it wasn't there. To the point where sometimes I don't even realize it happened again until after the fact." Lance explains. He starts drawing little runic designs in the sand that look vaguely familiar.

"I get them for everyone, or at least the demigods and Gods. Usually the color is muted gold, maybe with another color kind of mixed in. Sort of like auras? But not quite. Some demigods shine brightly, blindingly like Macaria and," Lance pauses and swallows thickly. "Shiro and Allura too. They all nearly blinded me the first time I saw them. The gods, or at least those I've met, which isn't many, all shone the brightest. First time I met Apollo I nearly passed out from being overwhelmed by the glow."

"Glow, as in what Macaria said?" Pidge asks tentatively. Lance nods.

"She knew what it was, and she explained only that it made me unique, that I was gifted due to my heritage. It's supposedly one of many things that are in my power that makes me stand above other demigods or whatever." Lance says, and Keith can practically feel the waves of bitterness rolling off of him. "And I'm sorry, by the way."

Lance looks up and eyes them all with a sorrowful look.

"Macaria she, she used the glow against me. Used it like Shiro and Allura didn't know they could." Lance says. Shiro nearly jerks back in shock.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asks.

"I mean, there's a reason I'm always hanging off of you two." Lance says wryly, a dry smirk quirking at his lips. "The glow, when it's bright enough, enthralls me. Makes me crave the close proximity to it. At least that's what Macaria said it was. She told me to learn to resist the thrall or I won't be a help on this quest, I'll only hinder it."

"But what does the glow mean? What's it there for?" Hunk asks. Lance goes to answer, then pauses, eyes wide and bewildered.

"You guys are making it sound like you believe me." Lance says. Keith tilts his head curiously to the side, eyeing Lance's profile.

"Why wouldn't we?" Keith asks. Lance looks at him and Keith stares into glowing blue eyes. "You said you were telling the truth, why wouldn't we believe you?"

"Exactly." Hunk says, nodding. Pidge hums her agreement.

"I've never known you to lie about something so important Lance. I doubt you would start now." Shiro says. Lance blinks and then smiles a tiny little smile.

"Thanks guys. But to answer Hunk's question I don't know. I don't think Macaria knows for sure either. She said she was the only person she's known for centuries who sees it until I was born." Lance says, a shrug of his shoulders. Then he wrinkles his nose. "And apparently she felt it when I was born too, which weirded me out so I changed the subject."

"Well first," Pidge starts. "Creepy. Second. Did she say anything else about what she does know?" Lance shrugs to her question.

"Just that the fates put her through hell in back a few times, even literally. That I should be careful of my own self and of others if I want to survive." Lance says. He throws it out there casually, but even Keith, antisocial Keith, can see the hard line of Lance's lips, and the tense set of his shoulders, the strain of his voice to stay casual.

"Anyways." Lance explodes out suddenly, jumping up and quickly repacking everything he made a mess of in no time flat. He soon turns on heel and places his hands on his hips. "I'm tired. Who has first watch? And no, Shiro, it won't be you. When I woke up you were standing watch." Lance says, beating Shiro to the punch.

Shiro actually pouts and concedes to Lance's demand.

What a pushover.

Keith goes to offer himself up as watchman when Lance glares him down. Apparently Keith is lumped in with Shiro on the whole being forbidden from taking watch thing. Seems it's up to Pidge and Hunk.

"I'll do it." Pidge says, standing with a languid stretch of her body. Keith winces as he hears her neck, knees, and fingers pop. Then she twists her body and her back pops too. Keith suppresses a shudder at the sound. He hates that sound. Why would anybody do something like that to their own bodies? "I've got enough sleep anyways. Y'all get some rest, I've got your backs."

Pidge then swipes up her weird boomerang blade thing and strides out to the edge of the overhang with a blanket, settling up against a rock and crossing her legs. She's a far more relaxed sentry then Shiro was, but Keith has no doubt she's twice as deadly.

Lance is the first to stride over to where he had been unconscious earlier as he healed, laying down and sliding the heap of a jacket underneath his head as a pillow. Hunk isn't far behind, and for that matter neither is Shiro, though he simply lays on his back where he had been sitting, arms beneath his head. Keith looks back towards Lance and freezes when glaring blue eyes lock onto him.

With a huff he slides onto his side to fall asleep, or at least pretend to.

Every time Keith peeks his eyes open Lance is still looking at him with a deadly glare. Eventually the allure of rest conquers and he's soon falling asleep to Hunk's snoring and Shiro's sleepy whistle noises he makes in his sleep.

"Goodnight Keith." Lance whispers and Keith doesn't have time to return it before he's falling under the veil of unconsciousness.

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(Last)(AU 1)(AU 2)(AO3)

[dukeofriven]

Captain Marvel Didn’t Need A Subplot About Sad Familyman Pain: A Very Late Captain Marvel Review

So I finally saw Captain Marvel last night  (like a week ago now but it was the Tuesday before Endgame came out and then this sat in my drafts folder for days and days) - yep, down to the wire almost - so I’ve obviously missed all the Super Important Captain Marvel discourse that Tumblr prattled on about: still, I’ll add my thoughts to the pile.

An incredible cast with great chemistry can do nothing to fix one of the blandest scripts since Doctor Strange, which at least had imaginative vistas and unusual set design to carry some of the story-telling weight. Captain Marvel is possibly the worst-looking Marvel film: at the very least I am confident it is probably the worst-edited, and unquestionably the worst-lit film in all the Marvel canon. Captain Marvel almost consciously doesn't seem to want you to see anything in the movie, going out of its way to shoot scenes at night, in boring and dark spaceships, and in sandstorms at night on dark planets. Lousy fight choreography, coupled with rapid-fire edits with lousy coverage, made the film’s frequent hand-to-hand combat scenes visual nightmares. The worst offender is probably Danvers’ escape from the Skrull ship, in which basic shot-to-shot continuity is lost. The action becomes a literal blur as an anarchic assembly of seemingly-random coverage is cut together to create a confusing mess of movement. A fantastic late-film aerial dog fight and an incredibly powerful 'gloves come off' space sequence make the movie's last twenty minutes its visually strongest, but can't repair the damage done by the previous 90 minutes of blur and uncertain scene geography. (Rogue One has this exact same problem viz. rear-loading the entire movie onto the last twenty minutes.) The movie is at its best when it chucks the undeveloped plot out the window and just lets characters talk to one another, revealing their warmth and great on-screen chemistry, making otherwise forgettable dialogue work through great delivery and comedic timing. This is how most MCU films work anyways: good-to-great actors take weak dialogue and make it work through talent and charm. Off the top of my head I can’t think of any dialogue in the MCU that’s good for reasons other than excellent delivery: Marvel doesn’t seem to care much for writers who have a grip on the craft of dialogue.

The moment the plot reasserts itself, which usually means pretending that anyone cares about Jude Law's one-note bad guy, anything good about the film disappears. There's the bones of a great movie here hampered by incredibly poor framing decisions. Rather than reduce the flashbacks to five-second bursts of mental confusion, a better version of the film would have had two parallel stories A) Carol's quest to become a great pilot while fighting against prejudice and B) A present-day fight to regain that past. As is, the film makes the pretence that it has a feminist theme about overcoming patronizing men, but in practice this is introduced through jumbled flashbacks at the start of the film, essentially dropped for the rest of the run-time, and suddenly re-introduced at the final moments with a triumphant declaration of "I don't need your approval." Had the movie spent any of its middle running time acting like Carol was being patronized by anyone, this might have carried more weight. However, perhaps unwilling to make Nick Fury seem sexist in any way, Carol spends most of the movie surrounded by completely supportive people who do nothing but tell her how great she is. A single shitty stranger on a motorcycle with four lines of dialogue does not a 'triumph against chauvinism' narrative make. Even Jude Law's villain seems to be holding Carol back largely out of a need to follow orders and make sure her brainwashing was working - not out of any chauvinistic impulses. You could make the argument that the brainwashing is an analogy for the way patriarchy brainwashes women into accepting false limitations, but the movie isn’t that subtle: it wears its themes on its sleeve. Besides, you don’t get the sense that the Kree are doing anything out of gender motives - frustrating given that neighbouring franchise Guardians of the Galaxy has proven time and time again that you can still fo Asshole Space Chauvinist  without detracting from the heroism of the leading female. (Well, sorta. Guardians 2 does this much better than 1). Part of the problem is that Jude Law spends most of the movie on a ship waiting to get to Carol and having exposition-only phone calls. We get very little sense of Carol's relationship with him outside of the opening punch-up in a dojo - and the weakness is reinforced by Law’s character insisting only that Carol isn’t ready yet to do various things. This could work - there’s more to sexism than blunt and obvious HURR DURR WYMINS CAN’T DO THINGS declaration, but the the narrative repeatedly demonstrates that Jude Law is correct. It takes the whole movie for Carol to learn how to take her own breaks off. Which is a serious problem when she confronts the villain insisting he’d been holding her back. Not... not really, Carol. At no point in the movie did you seem like you were holding back because Jude Law’s voice was in your head telling you you weren’t good enough. You didn’t do X, Y, Z things because you just didn’t know how to do them, and you needed more experience. Jude Law spends the whole movie... not being wrong? It’s an issue. So when Carols stands there and says ‘I've never needed your approval” or some-such it’s great on a thematic level to see a female superhero so utterly reject the so-called necessity of some kind of male mentor (and if nothing else everything Carol learns in the film she learns on her own) - but it’s nonsense in the context of the film itself, where Carol spends most of it ignoring anything Jude Law says to her and doing her own thing, It weird to have her reject a man who has power over her - when he has had no power over her since the pre-credits sequence. She doesn’t listen to him at all the moment they go on their first mission. And, again, despite the text of the movie that framing suggest that Jude Law is not wrong about her not being ready to do the Light Thing until she was ready to do The Light Thing. A better movie would let Larson’s great chemistry with Lashana Lynch sing. I was so hyped going into this movie because Larson was quoted as saying that the “real” relationship of the movie was between Danvers and Rambeau but it’s... it’s not. Maybe in the script Larson originally filmed, maybe it felt that way on set, but if that was the case then it’s completely lost in the edit, where Rambeau has a nice through-line about regaining her place as a pilot but whose relationship with Danvers is mostly relegated to being another “no you’re super great Carol” hype man. Her best scene - where she and Carol sit down and she says how hard is was to lose her best friend - is undermined by some of the most mawkish music ever inflicted on a Marvel film; all the power of the acting  marred by a track that sounds like it came out of All My Children. In a better movie we’d get to see Carol live her life as a woman triumphing in a sexist airforce - half the movie should be flashbacks that build to that fatal, final flight. Danvers and Rambeau meet and crush on one another, mutually crush on Annette Benning (because god-damn), fly planes, fly better than anyone else flying planes, and do karaoke together to forget all the shitty airforce dudes in the lives who resent their good, good plane flying. This shitty people might have identities as villains and maybe do double-casting with Jude Law so we can see the parallels in her old life and her new life instead of pretending for an hour that Jude Law is her friend - like hell, movie, we’re not stupid, that’s not a shock. You cut between those scenes and modern Carol - and you do Good Writing Stuff like make New Carol a different person than old Carol: more timid, more cowed by the brain washing, more subservient to this guy who feeds her approval and virtue. You know - the stuff you do when you want to tell a movie about gaslighting like actually feature gaslighting. And we, the audience, who can see old Carol and how incredible and tough and take-no-shit she was, stare at the screen with burning eyes, hating Jude Law’s guts and waiting for the moment Carol beats his shitty ass into the ground and smooches Rambeau. And we see that Carol come back - fighting and clawing against this brain chip. And maybe the Supreme Intelligence could actually be in the movie as a villain like the movie seemed to want, instead of a brief cameo at the start of the film and then a baffling return at the end as some kind of ‘final boss’ that we don’t give a damn about because they sat out the entire movie. The film should come to a head with the crash of the experimental jet coinciding with the moment Carol remembers it in the present - maybe we take it a step further and use that great Skrull framing device at the start of the film: the past and the recent present align in the actual-present in the Skrull machine as Carol both remembers her old life, realizes the Skrulls are just trying to help her, and wakes up. Her eyes Do The Thing and she leaps out the back of Rambeau’s plane and blows the Supreme Intelligence’s armada up (not Ronan, because nobody gave a shit the first time why would you introduce a nobody like this instead of the person you want to be the Big Bad in your movie?) like a badass just like she does in the current film and then beats the shit out of Jude Law for some serious emotional catharsis. A casualty of this would be less screen time for Samuel L. Jackson. Who gives a shit? This is Carol and Rambeau‘s movie not Scary CGI Plasticine Jackson and Really, Really, Really Scary CGI Plasticine Clark Greg’s movie. You might get less Ben Mendelsohn too. A shame but, and I can’t stress this enough this should be a movie about Carol and Rambeau and Anette Bening. Ben Mendelsohn’s need to reunite with his loving wife and daughter has no place here. Did not need a subplot about manpain.

Or, conversely, if you want a movie about a totally badass female superhero kicking ass then cut out the gaslighting plot entirely. Make a different movie. Go the Iron Man route where Tony Stark is allowed to be an egotistical badass throughout and nobody ever patronizes because we don’t write movies about men that way. Just do the same for Carol (but not literally, because Ant-Man already did “Iron Man But Again” and it sucked). Really: you want to write the great feminist superhero movie? Don’t make it about a woman’s struggles against shitty men. Just make it about an awesome woman doing awesome things and stop making The Woman’s Superhero Movie be defined by her relationship with A Man’s World (see also Wonder Woman and almost every period piece about a female character ever made). Stop Othering the woman in her own movie! Finally, Captain Marvel has one of the most generic and instantly forgettable scores, a problem with Marvel generally but actively noticeable here as scenes with good acting are ruined by saccharine music like a bad soap opera. Captain Marvel is a mediocre and forgettable film, another in a long line of movies I got hyped for as some kind of ‘feminist masterpiece’ and discovered a lot of the same old shitty, lazy superhero tropes with the clunky addition of what a boardroom of executives think constitute feminist themes according to their quantitative marketing data. I will say for the eight year old girls out there it was a powerful movie and they were inspired seeing a woman superhero and I won’t take that away from then or pretend it’s not great. But they could and deserved a much better version of this movie - one in which that unquestionably glorious fuck-shit-up scene where Carol smashes through a battle fleet like it’s fucking paper because fuck you I am the biggest badass this franchise has ever seen Thor got punched by a star once who cares watch me atomize a dreadnought with my face! was matched with the same level of care elsewhere in the picture - so when Danvers lands and beats the stuffing out of Jude Law we’re not struggling to remember his character’s name which I haven’t successfully done once this entire review. I have yet to see Endgame but I have high hopes that - much like Paul Rudd and Benedict Cumberbatch - once out of the confines of her own under-written movie Brie Larson will get a chance to really shine, because we don’t get to really see Carol Danvers until that one great ship-smashing scene and that’s a pity. We should have had a chance to know the Captain Danvers of the USAF and to be able to mourn her even as we celebrated the emergence of the new Space Badass Danvers - who isn’t the same person, who can’t be, but is something greater than before. (For the record this isn’t a bad movie. It really is just a mediocre one. It’s far, far from the MCU’s worst film. That would be - despite my biases screaming ‘Ant-Man and the Wasp’ - still probably Thor: The Dark World, which you likely forgot existed again.)

[bedlamgames]

Q&A #93

Next update is very close to being done, so time to get back on the answering questions horse. Plan is to also do these as twitlongers for those that no longer want to deal with tumblr. 

Anonymous said: The good news is that for explicit content posted in the past, tumblr seems to be willing to let it stay (if my reading of their announcement is correct) -- you may be able to keep this blog as an archive, but wherever you choose to move I'd gladly follow. (I'm already pledged for a dollar on Patreon so that shouldn't be a problem.)

Actually, belay my last message, creating your own website might not be a bad idea. I know that SilverBardGames has their own website and that's like my other indie game developer (with explicit content) that I follow. Word of mouth might still work to spread the good word.

That’s the plan. I do definitely need to sort out a website though sometime. If this experience has shown me anything it’s that relying on a single resource is a baaaad idea. 

justanothorguy1 said: Where are you going to post you new download links for you games?

Will still post them here, the patreon, TFGames, and the Collective. Will also post them going forward on the twitter. 

rafaelivri said: 1. Somehow my slaver that I recruit started with cum lust+++. Is this even intentional (that they can have it from the very beginning)? 2. Any way to get rid of it? 

Worked out what was causing that and it should be fixed in the update. 

Anonymous said: I'm not sure if this a bug but recently I've been getting a lot of slaves and slavers whose descriptions say that they're barely taller than a goblin.

Maybe a weird run of RNG? Not heard that from anyone else yet so one to keep an eye on I think. 

Anonymous said: was wondering if theres a walkthough for no haven somewhere? i played a bunch of it and interested to figure out what i missed

There is a wiki which you can find a link to on the No Haven page here. Not something under my control though so no idea if there’s a walkthrough out there. 

Anonymous said: watch as your posts get flagged anyway tho *shrug*

Been over a month and no flagged posts so worked out how to handle that apparently :D

Anonymous said: I don't think your link in the latest blogpost is supposed to lead to some tony mo and his videogame loveletters on patreon.

Oops missed a character in the copy/paste. Thanks for the spot. 

Anonymous said: i had a idea for a no heaven maybe some content where your bed warmer slave takes control of you in bed if there dominate and your secretly submissive. and if the there a dominator or hypono they start taking more control of your over time secretly controlling you and camp form behind close door.

That’s been on the books for awhile where certain slaves will be very dangerous to have as a bedwarmer. For a start those mantras coming in the next update just might end up being used on you in future updates. 

joyfullyunadulteratedruins said: Is the Hypnopics thread gone? That's the only way I can download No Haven now, and the download link here is still on version 0.821

Looks to be still there to me?

Anonymous said: [no haven 0.832] imgur a/d4SJMAC is it intentional that a fel person doesn't want to get corrupted?

[no haven 0.832] imgur /a/J0ooMqC the love being desecrated drone until entirely embedded sounds to me like the check doesn't have to be done anymore, but I keep having to do it.

Yeah for some reason they may not always think that you have their best interests at heart :)

That other one is a temporary bodge of their thoughts to overwhelm their resistance. In future though there will be more permanent alterations possible like with slaves in the next update. 

Anonymous said: Could we, in the future, have a fourth-wall option to discard a slave or slaver? No reward given, just a simple deletion. It's happened to me a few times where assignments that involve specific slaves - such as the lamia in Dance the Night Away or the drow males in the Deep Mtns quest - bug out at the turn in and leave behind a slave you cannot get rid of. Also been numerous times where I've gotten an abysmal roll on a slaver and had to wait for a guaranteed disaster quest to get rid of them.

Previous anon here who was asking for the fourth-wall purge. Yes, I am aware that there's a quest to remove unwanted slavers. However, since you can't reliably force it to pop, its usefulness is inconsistent at best. Also, it gives a payout and only works on slavers - the purge I'm asking for would be more universal and give nothing. Just a convenient deletion to improve gameplay. The accompanying picture could be a screaming stickman being sucked into a black hole.

I’d prefer to fix bugs rather than do workarounds if possible. Been down that path before and it only complicate things badly. 

The reason why there’s no outright dismiss a slaver is that from the beginning on of the challenges I wanted was some of your own slavers so just booting them would lose a lot of fun possibilities. 

Saying that I do want to do more with morale/reputation so that slavers have a chance to get fed up enough that you can drive them away. I’m also planning a new assignment which will be a risk free depending on choices way to dump unwanted slaves without need for chancing the Whore Makers.  

Anonymous said: Hi! Thank you for for that great game! Some questions about the future: 1) Will we have any mechanics with C:Devices and C:Enchantment in the near future? 2) Any plans to expand the list of slave trainings with anal/vaginal tranings or something else?

Thank you!

Maybe not near, near future, but certainly sooner rather than later as both I want to have as encampment roles. Next update also has some of the groundwork for enchanting. 

Yes absolutely more training is coming including bimbo training in the next update. 

nh-maikochan said: Bug report: Had a slaver level up and had the option for the aspect "Friends in High Places", however, when I clicked on -View Choices-, it instead gave me the entry for "A Friend in Every Port", however the text for that made reference to Scouting the Deep Mountains instead of the Dreadsea Coast. "Aspect: A Friend in Every Port - Requires Friendly and two Scout the Deep Mountains Success or Crits, awards an additional two assignments on Scout the Deep Mountains Success or Crit results."

So just had an interesting bug. I took a slave to auction, my camp leader going along on the assignment, got a critical result, and while the assignment said that the slave was sold, she ended up coming back with me. Some factors that may have had an effect: Had gotten word that bimbo slaves were in demand, and the slave was indeed a bimbo and my leader has Inquisitor, which activated giving me an assignment.

First one I’ve sorted for the update. 

Other was that slave bimboborn? Cause I think that might be causing issues with selling. 

Anonymous said: Hi! What do you think about oppotunity not only gain new perks when slaver lvl up, but to remove existing ones, such as Unruly or Reserved for example? Thank you!

My current plan is to use hypnotic to tackle those unwanted mental traits. Certainly not a bad idea though. 

Decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pull in questions from other sources to give as much info as possible out in one place at one time. So going forward I’m also going to be including some of the questions asked elsewhere along with including the answers I made. 

From TFGames: I'm a little confused as to biomancy and hypnotism and changing other characters. The odds seem to really not like being "in the field" but I can't figure out where else to be? Also, I can't seem to figure out what hypnotic triggers actually do when you put them on a slaver. Is there a way to alter someone's personality via hypnotism or domination? In terms of customization and exporting... is it just the char-gen where you can export a character? Is there a way to say, see a slave get captured, manipulate or change them via training and influence, turn them into a slaver and then export that character and see what happens on their career? Alternatively, is there a way to change the names of the slaves you capture and slavers you recruit? For say, immersion purposes >.> Or generate and specify your own "number two" ?

Hypnotic triggers on slavers currently are used for respect checks which are when a slaver doesn't want to do something like go whore themselves out, where a slutty outfit, or be corrupted and you need to persuade them. Using the triggers is a lot more effective than some of the other options. In the next update triggers will also be used on slaves to help with their training and unlock new bonuses. In future those slave mantras will be able to be used on anyone including yourself, and I'm also planning extra usage to deal with annoying traits like reserved and unhinged. Currently it's just the main character. I'd like to do more, but given I also want to move away from rags I'm not planning to do anything with it for now. There is an option to nickname under help and options. I don't think it's ideal though in the current implementation and it needs another look sometime.

From TFGames: Is there any get mind controlled content besides the "dreams" ascociated with Lacey's toy?

Being possessed is the main one which is a rare outcome from corruption which then has a bunch of follow up text at end of day, during respect checks, and leadership challenges. The Quick as You Like mini-adventure if you go on it assignment has MC content, especially if you 'win' the race. There's the hidden cults when you go into town where you can lose control. There also might be some assignments that have a bit of MC action if you go on them. If you're submissive there's also mind control content in the story line assignment to unlock the hidden area and slave auctions.

From the Patreon: A suggestion to add more interplay with your slavers in NH - in the "Talk" menu add a topic called "ask for rumours" where you can ask your slavers if they have any leads/tips. Depending on certain factors they could offer you a tip-off for a mission (type & quality determined by slavers type and your relation with them), to be added to your list, in exchange for gold/supplies/days off/sexual favours. Could also lead into leadership challenges if you rely too much on a slaver. Slavers could also have an x% chance of approaching you for a chat each day and ask you for things and you could choose what to charge them (no charge leads to a relation increase, refusing outright leads to a decrease). Would be a way of getting slavers to wear things/do things that they otherwise wouldn't and vice-versa. Looking forward to the update.

That's a really neat idea. Added it to my to do list.

[keeperprinceling]

Primals and Dragons and Moogles, Oh My

Happens between Coerthas Western Highlands and The Vault and its Aftermath

Yvaine (WoL) x Khit’li (( @menphinasbow​ ))

Reposted as tumblr ate the original

Talking. Bug. People. Yvaine had been charmed by the Gnath outsiders and immediately wanted to do everything in her power to help them, so of course that meant he was helping them out, too.

The Chocobo Forest had been interesting, the tall trees similar in height to his home but the space between them so open that it felt entirely different. The life of the hunters and trappers that resided there was similar enough to some of the denizens of the Shroud, and with Yvaine’s hand in his while they walked and sorted things out, he had felt almost normal throughout the second stage in their trip - her contact and attention adding greatly to his appreciation of the days and nights spent heading towards the Churning Mists and the dragon that may help them in their bid to save Ishgard.

The fact that the Gnath were planning on summoning a Primal had put a damper on things, but after Ifrit, Titan, Garuda, Leviathan, Ramuh, and Shiva, what was one more faux-deity with the ability to turn any one of them but Yvaine (and Ysayle?) into a brainless slave? At least this time they had a primal on their side –

Until Ravana knocked Ysayle’s flying primal ass right out of the air, completely nixing that plan.

So, once again, it was the pair of them and a handful more allies of the Scions against the primal Ravana and… honestly? Khit’li had had a good time. Or, as much of a good time as could be had when fighting for your life. He felt he had a strong handle on his spells - even the new ones - and he and his fairy were in complete sync as they kept their companions in top condition and evaded the attacks of the primal. Maybe it was his conditioning overall, or maybe it was just feeling on top of the world with how things were going with Yvaine, but he actually smiled during the encounter. Ravana’s personality probably had a lot to do with his impression of the fight, as well: it seemed like he was having a great time testing out his abilities. He wasn’t focused on killing them for a purpose or turning them into mindless slaves, just proving himself against them. There were a few close calls, but, in the end, Ravana was neutralized, and they could continue on their quest.

…then came the dragons. Ysayle had a history with them and Yvaine was eager to make one, almost beside herself upon meeting with their young - “young” being a completely relative term as some of the children were more than twice their age. They were cute - some of them were complete assholes while somehow managing to stay so - but Yvaine was cuter; the way her eyes lit up when they responded to her, the determined line of her mouth when she set to a task they had given her, the completely charming smile she gave them after a job well done - he had seen these in her before, but somehow now they were even more endearing, even more radiant. He felt like he was on cloud nine every single time she reached for his hand, every time she smiled at him, every time they walked together behind the other three of their group, whether chatting amicably or simply enjoying the sounds of the Forelands together. At night after making camp, they would find ways to sneak off to “gather firewood” or “fetch water” together so they could more easily steal kisses or give up on pretense entirely and make out for a solid half bell, and then…

They’d settle down, slow their breathing to regain composure, and head back to camp.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go any further - his body was definitely interested in taking things to the next level -

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to go any further - part of one of those awkward “male-to-male” conversations with his uncles told him everything he would ever want to know, with enough side-talk about “listening to his partner’s needs” to still make him blush. … especially when thinking about what Yvaine would sound like issuing those cues. Thinking about that was the fastest way to… well to get him – and the couple of times she had hummed into him when he pressed a certain part of her ear? The way she moved against him when his hand hit just the right spot or his mouth found just the right place on her neck? It was enough to make him completely undone and he’d have to quickly focus on anything but her to stop from trying to go farther, because…

… because he was completely irrational but old fears didn’t die quickly.

Ever since he could understand what his place in life was, he was told what his place in life would be. While his sister and cousins would carry on the family traditions, would make proud hunters or trappers or artisans, would make something of themselves and potentially, one day, become matron, he, as a male, had one purpose: to mate. Males were rare - barely one per every ten births - and the birth rate for Miqo’te wasn’t that high to begin with. Males - all males - were needed to mate so that their way of life could continue. Males of his family had the added bonus of their services being offered only in high-profile trades or alliance agreements, their coloring - his coloring - valued as a metaphor of Menphina in the nighttime skies, and so his ‘stock’ was even higher than that. Ever since he had entered puberty he had been pulled aside at Clan Meets by his aunt to be reminded to never go off alone with females of another clan, less he be taken advantage of for free, and when he had started openly flirting for fun - “practicing” for his future - he was reminded ever more forcefully to keep the play act just that - play - as his genetic information was never to be offered without a family-approved price paid beforehand. The act was the highest value that he had. That was it. His entire purpose. And of course the norm was that once he had done what he was contracted for, he was no longer needed and was expected to leave. Irrationally, he equated that with no longer being wanted. Which, all in all, paired thought of that sort of intimacy with anxiety.

Yvaine wasn’t like that. He knew. She would still want him afterwards.

He was worth more than just that act. He knew.

… He knew.

He just… was still working on the believing it part.

Which was utterly ridiculous because Yvaine hadn’t been raised as a Keeper and all this nonsense was just - just nonsense, people of other races didn’t do that. They didn’t have to make trades to mate and then move on to keep their species alive - they mated and stayed together. Yvaine would think of it just like those other races did - an act of intimacy. All the same, it weighed on him, sometimes hidden in his mind up until he breathlessly considered asking her if she wanted to keep going, and then would rear its ugly head and cause him to slow down and back off a bit.

When finally the dragons permitted them passage to Sohm Al, the five of them wound their way through the dangers that guarded the mountain’s peak. They fared well and worked easily through the trial, the only real difficulty being against the dragon Tioman, wherein Khit’li stayed planted too long to cast a spell and ended up being too close to a shockwave and was thrown across the arena and hit his head. He was fine - just dizzy - but when it was over Yvaine stayed close as they exited Sohm Al and entered the Churning Mists.

The Mists was incredible - off in the distance, ancient structures stood silhouetted against the twilight sky, the landmass floating here just as they did in the Sea of Clouds, but the air felt heavier here, the sky closer, somehow. They found refuge in the mouth of a wide, open cave near an ancient Aetheryte, and made camp in the yawning opening, able to keep watch in either direction as the cave was open to the sky above in its center. Before building a fire the five of them descended into the wide cave to investigate, with Yvaine electing to stay close to Khit’li as they walked around despite his assurances that he was fine and his fairy’s general eye-rolling at pretty much every interaction between the two. The dainty thing excused herself to flit over and join Alphinaud, leaving the pair of Miqo’te to investigate the dead center of the cave.

“Honestly, I’m fine, you can let go,” Khit’li assured her with a smile, “Go check that out, I’ll look over here,” he added, recognizing the twitch in her ears and the movement of her eyes as they pulled towards something he could not see. Warrior of Light stuff, maybe, or maybe something he could have felt if he wasn’t still a little disoriented, despite what he had said. She gave him a look that let him know that she was onto him, but went to check out the disturbance anyway. She glanced back at him until she was right on top of it - he lifted his hands in a shrugging motion to show that he was still fine, and she, smiling, rolled her eyes and bent down to examine her find closer. It would take her a few moments, so he turned to examine the rest of the area; Ysayle and Estinien had taken the outer regions of the cave, so it was up to the two of them to figure out anything in–

Startled, he breathed in, and immediately pulled back and sneezed, a fluffy plant suddenly making his face itch everywhere. He was on the ground - face first on the ground, the bout of dizziness hitting him so completely it knocked him off balance entirely. Great, he thought, picking himself back up onto his hands and knees at least. There was no way she hadn’t heard that.

It was an aether current, which would be useful to get herself used to flying in this area later. But it was also nothing she hadn’t seen before. Just as she turned back to Khit'li to tell him it was nothing, she heard a loud sneeze, and the moment she looked at him, he was sprawled on the ground somehow. “Honestly, ‘I’m fine,’ you said,” she grumbled, stomping over to help him back up. “And then I let you go for five seconds and here you are on the ground. Can’t even sneeze without falling over.” She sighed and slung his arm over her shoulder. She inspected him closely, not for the first time wishing she had some of his healing knowledge. Having a sick healer didn’t exactly help anyone. “Are you sure you don’t want your fairy to look you over and make sure everything is okay?"

His whole face itched. He closed his eyes and rubbed at it with one had as she chided him and marched over, frustration etched in her tone as much as her steps. A defensive response sluggishly bubbled to the surface of his mind - after all, he had sneezed after falling down, not before, and he felt that was an important distinction - but the moment she bent down close beside him and inserted herself underneath his arm, suddenly it didn’t seem so important anymore. He let the thought go, his nebulous attention instead on her - just her. The shape of her nose, the soft line of her cheeks, the annoyed arc of her brow; even when frustrated by him she was so pretty and made him feel so warm and full and complete. And lightheaded. Her hand held his, her other arm hugging the small of his back as she effortlessly stood, supporting his weight like it was practically nothing. She was strong like that.

She looked him over closely and he returned the favor, a toothy, heady grin spreading across his features and the tip of his tail lashing as he looked down at her, getting ideas that got his heart beating faster and quickening his breathing. By her words she wasn’t thinking the same thing, but maybe he could nudge her in that direction.

“Nah, I’m fine - just got a little dizzy,” he said, his voice pitched lower and smoother than usual, a certain compelling note to his tone. He reached up smoothly and brushed his dark fingers through her soft green tresses, “But maybe I should lie down.” The suggestion ended almost like an invitation.

He was… grinning like he’d seen something amusing, or like he was drunk. Yvaine frowned; how badly had he hit his head exactly? Did he have a concussion? He was using his bedroom voice for some reason, and while she was certainly interested - had been for quite some time, actually, especially when they were so close like this she could feel his breath on her skin - she was still worried. "That’s… actually a good idea,” she agreed, before looking around to find a proper place to set up camp for the night. There, in the middle of the room, was something inexplicably pink and glowing. And fluffy. It looked like a giant dandelion-type plant. Or rather, a chair made out of dandelions? Or fluff balls? “That looks comfortable,” she pointed, tilting her head in slight confusion as to what it actually was and what its purpose was in this room. But if it was soft, that was all that mattered, right?

She liked his idea. His hand slid out of her hair as she cast about, biding his time until he could see if she’d like another one, and when she pointed to a giant fluffball on a strong looking tree trunk he nodded in agreement, the movement feeling like someone else had done it. His brows furrowed for a moment as he wondered at the idea - someone else was moving his body? …He shook his head, and eventually his body responded, his mind swimming around inside it dreamily. So, nope, it was him. Just… a weird feeling. He stepped forward as Yvaine did and felt simultaneously like he was walking on a cloud and was about to fall, the resulting motion more a wobble than a step, and he reached out for her instinctively.

Yvaine caught his waist and pulled him back up, his other arm slung firmly around her shoulders. She was just grateful he wasn’t bigger or she’d have more difficulty dragging him around. “You literally can’t even walk,” she grunted as she made the last push toward the fluffy couch and pushed him onto it so that he fell onto the pink pillow. Taking a deep breath, she cast her eyes around for the fairy, which was nowhere in sight. “I don’t like this, Khit'li,” she said pointedly. “You could have a concussion. Aren’t you supposed to stay awake if you have a concussion?”

She leaned over him and planted one hand on his forehead, not even sure what she was checking for. A fever, maybe? She peered into his eyes, wondering if she could tell what was wrong just by looking at him.

Her eyes enchanted him, the bright green like the sunlight bouncing off of leaves in springtime, the flecks of gold sparkling like fairydust; his head swam as he stared into them, the rest of his vision spinning slowly in a way that was, for some reason, not concerning in the least. They were eyes that had seen so much and yet still retained such hope, eyes that glared at monsters as surely as they softened in moments like this, where it was just the two of them sharing a private moment. A private moment; a lopsided grin pulled at one side of his mouth, his teeth peeking out between his lips as he continued to stare, blinking slowly to take in more of her face. He wanted to kiss her. “I don’t like it either,” he replied to her concern, though there was nothing close to worry in his tone. Gently he put his hand across hers and pulled it from his forehead and down his cheek, pausing when her thumb was near his mouth. His eyes on hers mischievously, he sensuously invited, “Maybe you should get up here and help me stay awake?” and pulled her hand closer to his lips so he could kiss her, sliding his tongue suggestively up the length of her thumb before kissing the palm of her hand.

Her eyes flicked from his forehead to his eyes when he pulled her hand down to his cheek, and her expression softened. He was clearly in need of… comfort. Maybe? She was mildly confused when he… licked? her thumb but it didn’t feel unpleasant exactly, and even she understood what he was insinuating. “You’re impossible,” she rolled her eyes, but grudgingly climbed onto the big puffy couch alongside him. She settled on the surprisingly comfortable chair. “Wow. This is… nice. Like sitting on clouds.”

She snuggled closer to him, suddenly feeling really tired, the comfort of the couch lulling her into a sense of calm. No longer wired on worry, she ran her hand through his hair, slightly lifting the bangs that perpetually clouded his eyes so she could see them both better. Twelve, he was good-looking. Especially when he was giving her those bedroom eyes. And he had had no idea how often she’d wanted…

“So… what did you have in mind for me to… help?” she asked, carefully but teasingly, her finger tracing a line down his ear, along his jaw, and nestled on his neck before settling with palm down on his chest.

He released her hand so she could climb up with him, quickly getting used to the lightheaded dissociation that was going on. It wasn’t bad - it was normal, really; honestly, he didn’t know why he didn’t always feel like this. It was so much easier - what was the fuss about anyway? As she snuggled in next to him he breathed deeply, enjoying how nice it felt to be this close to her, to feel her against him, her attention all his and his all hers… but he wasn’t in a “relaxing” sort of mood. She ran her fingers through her hair, eliciting tingles that ran the length of his legs and tail, and then fluffed his longer bangs, causing his stomach to flip with an anxiety that he immediately dismissed in favor of seeing her better.

The way she looked up at him, he felt like he could do anything.

Her voice thrummed against his shoulder as she settled into him, and it could have been a very comfortable and calming experience but for the tone she had used, the way her finger trailed the edge of his ear and down the length of his jaw… He hummed in mock thought before theatrically replying, matching his pitch to hers as he tilted her face up to meet his and murmuring “I have a few ideas” against her lips. He kissed her, lightly, playfully, teasingly, pulling back after each encounter in an attempt to amp her up, to frustrate her until he was sure he had her full attention, until he wanted more and was reasonably sure she did too. He twisted, wrapped both arms around her and tried to pull her over to straddle his lap, the move a lot clumsier than he had intended due to – well whatever was happening - but once she was there it was like nothing else existed, her weight comfortable and exciting all at once. His arms held her close, one hand pressed against the small of her back, two fingers slipping ‘innocently’ past the belt-hem of her skirt to touch the base of her tail and the other hand slid into her hair, his thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive spot behind her right ear; only then did he deepen the kiss, holding nothing back.

He wanted to go the full way with her, and he wanted to drive her insane before asking her to go there with him. He wanted to give her the best night of her life, one that she’d never forget.

She giggled at his words, kissing him back, holding back a noise of protest every time he pulled back, making her want more. She pressed closer against him so she could easily recapture his mouth, moving on top of him now as he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs on either side of him and her head above his. She jolted slightly at his sudden touch under her skirt, but then grinned in understanding, her own hands slipping under his shirt to explore his bare chest. She let out an involuntary moan as he rubbed her ear - her favorite spot. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she kissed him once again, pressing her entire body against his, resting all her weight on him.

“Twelve, I want you,” she whispered into the curve of his shoulder, right by his ear, and gasped when she realized she’d said her thought out loud. She searched his eyes to see the signs, if he would pull back like he usually did when they got here, or if he would finally let her in.

She pulled out of the kiss and whispered words he craved to hear, the tone in her voice sounding like permission enough to – But then she pulled away, her sharp intake of breath enough to cut through the warm, heady wonders of her, his caution ceasing all motion in his body until he figured out what was wrong. He looked back at her with a heavy, confused expression, brows knitted together but his lips still slightly parted from their kiss, his chest rising and falling beneath her in the opportunity to catch his breath. Just as she searched his eyes, he looked back into hers, seeking the source of her hesitation, reading her signs like following a well worn track. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t afraid. She was - ?

He half smiled in his normal, teasing fashion, lips parting to show his right canine, and then leaned forward to kiss her again. She worried about him and how he’d take it but tonight she had no need of that. He kissed down her neck, an easy reach with her in his lap and their height difference, and found a sensitive spot to apply his attention to in an attempt to recapture the mood of before. “Me, too,” he murmured, and pulled back, looking up over his head as he pressed back against the fluff behind him, asking in a lighter - if perhaps a little impatient - tone, “Think this thing reclines?”

His smile relaxed her, and as he kissed her once more, she let her body melt into it. A slight moan escaped as he moved down to her neck and she cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer against her skin. “Oh,” she let out a half gasp, half groan as he found the sensitive spot, her eyes fluttering closed. When he removed contact, she almost protested, but at his question, she laughed.

“Guess we’ll see. But first…” She untangled the knots of his clothes hurriedly, unable to wait any longer now that he’d given the obvious go ahead. Her mind ceased to think, and the only thing that ruled was the desire that she had long hidden and buried, waiting patiently for the right moment, which appeared to have arrived now, here on top of this strange white fluffy dandelion, up high in the sky where the Moogles dwelled.

Fade Out

Welp this may have further consequences XD .-. this was originally just going to be left to being “given” rather than actually written out, but Khit’li’s got issues so he didn’t make it easy and hahahaaaaa only gave in when he fell face first into something akin to catnip. Goodbye, inhibitions, hel~looooo Yvaine♥

I’M SURE SHE WON’T MIND FINDING THAT OUT.

So, yeah, we wrote it up XD I mean them “doing it” on the moogle throne before they knew it was the moogle throne has been planned for quite some time ((XD click to see the art! teeheehee)) but we’d only joked it’d’ve been where they had their first time and all that XD

btw: this is why they did all those moogle quests - to pay off a debt to the Chieftain heaped on them. THEY HAD ALL BEEN THERE BUT WERE WANTING TO STAY HIDDEN SO COULD DO NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WHILE IT WAS HAPPENING. The King demanded a new throne, btw, and they had to work it off. … but they got a lot of “fans” in doing so. I mean the original deal got them some fans (”I shipped them before they hooked up, Kupo~”) but then all the other stuff they did just cemented their fame, much to the joy of Yvaine and the chagrin (and later distaste) of Khit’li.   The reason their house is filled with moogles? This. The reason Khit’li will still mostly do anything the moogles ask of him, regardless of how asinine he finds it? This. Or, rather, fear that the moogle will reveal this to friends and acquaintances and anyone that can see or hear them.

That’s right. Blackmail.

Anyway, the end. For now. XD

[ashlynncoy-blog]

Misfire: Critical Condition Part VIII

I tried to schedule this post and it didn’t post. I had a moment to check (glad I did) and so I’m posting it now.

Sorry to everyone if the scheduled post magically appears someday. I”m bad at Tumblring. Anyway, have PEAK SAD ANGST, fam:

Leia had suspected her decision to break things off with Isolder might not go over well with her superiors in government. She had not, however, been at all prepared for the fill weight of the New Republic’s disapproval.

She’d barely been spoken to since her return to Coruscant. Her position on the New Republic Provisional Council had been dissolved along with the others upon the founding of the permanent government. She’d been granted indefinite leave from her duties in the Ministry of State in order to make the trip to the Hapes Consortium with Isolder, and closing in on three months after her return, she’d yet to be re-called to service.

She’d kept as busy as she could. She’d made appearances on behalf of her mother and of Alderaan, and had done her best as a sounding board for her father, who had recently been seated as Chancellor. But things were beginning to get awkward. Chancellor Bail Organa and Chief of State Mon Mothma worked closely together. They were also old friends and trusted colleagues. They’d both shard work space and associated socially since the days before the Empire. There was only so much time that could pass before it became painfully aware to Leia that her father’s friend, her former boss, was avoiding her.

Luke was away most of the time. As much as she supported his quest to understand, and to possibly rebuild, the Jedi Order, Leia missed having her brother around. Winter was away, too—under such deep cover that the two women couldn’t even send messages through a handler. With Han still in a coma (and hating her) and most of her other friends still in the military and off on campaign, the loneliness and boredom had begun to get to her.

She spent what time she could working on the Force meditations and other exercises she’d been taught—keeping a promise she’d made to Luke years before to turn her attentions to the practice as soon as she could find the time. But ever since that day in the hospital with Han, she’d been afraid to fully reach out with her feelings for fear of encountering something so unsettling again. Her mastery of The Force wasn’t improving much.

She was having a hard time figuring out what to do with herself on Coruscant in the absence of any official duties, so when her father had mentioned his plan to spend the Senate’s impending two weeks recess on Alderaan, and asked if she would be interested in joining him, Leia had practically jumped at the suggestion.

Running home to her mother wasn’t entirely in character for Leia, but the idea of being someplace she felt welcome was enough to make the trip more than appealing. Since her return from Hapes, her mother had been gently pressuring her to begin taking on more of the kinds of responsibilities she’d be faced with someday as Queen, and Leia didn’t mind at all if that meant spending some time on Alderaan—and some on-the-job-training with her mother.

She’d packed her bags with an abundance of haste. Anything she forgot, she would surely be able to replace when she got where she was going. That was the advantage of traveling home over any of her other ventures over the years. She’d had her things sent ahead to the spaceport hours ahead of her father’s scheduled arrival at the embassy to retrieve her, and she was sitting on go when Bail finally arrived.

As she rode beside her father in the speeder, Leia couldn’t help but notice they didn’t seem to be heading for their usual port of embarkation.

“Where is the ship?” she asked as Bail piloted their ample two-seater through a particularly bad snarl of traffic.

“It’s right where it usually is,” he answered. “I have a stop to make first.”

Maybe it was The Force or maybe it was the tone in her father’s voice, but Leia knew precisely where they were headed. She’d thought she recognized this part of town, but so much of Coruscant resembled so much of the rest of it that she’d talked herself into thinking it was her own preoccupations making this neighborhood seem familiar. But no—she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head as her father brought the speeder around the final corner to allow Army Hospital to come into view in the distance.

“Dad,” she said. “no.”

“I have to, Leia.”

“You have to?” she quizzed.

“We’re still listed as General Solo’s next of kin.”

“Oh.” Leia clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d forgotten that. The Alliance was still on Yavin 4 when Bail and Breha Organa had insisted on being listed as both Luke’s and Han’s family on official documents—that way they would be notified in the event of any emergency. Leia hadn’t thought about that in years. She certainly hadn’t considered what that might mean in terms of Han’s current condition.

“I need to sign some forms,” Bail said. He pulled the speeder into the lane that would take him to the hospital’s public landing bay.

“What kind of forms?” Leia asked. She knew Han didn’t want her around, but that didn’t make her any less curious. If she could get updates on his condition from her father, then she was damned sure going to.

“They want to put him back in the bacta tank,” Bail answered.

“That’s good,” Leia said, remembering what Wedge had told her about how they’d wanted to wait on bacta until Han was more stable.

“I’m afraid it’s not,” her father countered.

“What?”

“It’s quite the opposite,” he told her. “He’s just not healing. There’s nothing more they can do.”

“But Wedge said they can’t resuscitate him,” Leia argued. Surely Bail had heard this. If he’d signed forms for Han’s care before now, he must have been told about that.

“I know,” Bail replied somberly. “But what good is it if they keep resuscitating him only to have him get sicker and sicker? Eventually they won’t be able to get him back at all. It’s reached a point where it’s too risky to keep him out of bacta. Maybe,” he said, “if we’re lucky, the bacta will do enough. Because that’s the only chance he has left right now.”

Leia could feel her lower lip beginning to tremble as she fisted her hands in her skirt.

Bail pulled the speeder onto the hospital platform and lowered its parking struts.

“You can wait here if you need to,” Bail said as he opened his door. “I understand this is hard for you.”

Leia sniffled as she considered his offer.

“No,” she said. She reached over and opened her own door, careful not to let her knees buckle from the fear she felt as she stepped out onto the tarmac. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

Leia walked beside her father across the landing platform and to the lift that would take them to the right floor. She couldn’t help but notice the confidence with which her father made the trip, but she dared not ask how many times he’d come to visit. It was clear that he’d been here plenty; as they traversed the labyrinthine corridors between the lift and the Critical Care wing, he didn’t have to look at a single sign.

Leia could tell something was horribly wrong as soon as they set foot onto the familiar hallway. There was a klaxon sounding. Beings and droids were scurrying into and out of the open door to one of the treatment suites. When she realized what was going on and whose room they were concerned with, Leia broke into a flat run toward it.

She was reaching out with her feelings. She needed to get some hold of Han, some grip on whatever part of him was still around. It was a risk, she knew. She was driven by fear and terror and Luke would probably say she was falling to the Dark Side, but that was a matter she’d deal with another day. Right now there was only one thing she gave a damn about.

She rounded the corner into Han’s room at full speed. There were doctors, nurses, droids, and machines on all sides of the bed. Leia could barely get a glimpse of Han where he lay. But she knew he was there. She knew it in The Force and she knew it by the readouts on the screens all over the room. He was crashing, but he wasn’t down yet.

“We’re losing him!” one of the doctors shouted, reaching for some implement being held at stand-by by a droid just behind her.

“Come to, General!” Leia yelled, “You are not dismissed!”.

Her voice was strident and Forceful, the same as if she was giving him an order to evacuate a failing ship—only this order was precisely the opposite. She could feel him then—something—some part of him responding to her call. There was only one thing she could think to say. “Yeah,” she said, “it’s me. I’m back.” She wiped her moist eyes with her sleeve and continued. “You want me to go?” she asked, “well then wake the hell up and throw me out!”

The medical team continued their work. Leia watched as numbers and lines danced and variated on screens all around as stimulators and medications were administered left and right.

She took a step closer.

“Otherwise,” she said, with a little more control of herself than before, “I get the satisfaction of knowing the last thing you knew on this mortal plane was the sound of my voice!”

“I have a pulse,” a nurse called out then.

“Heart rate is normalizing,” the emdee droid announced. “Spontaneous respirations.”

The team at Han’s bedside seemed to let out a collective sigh.

Leia was gasping. She could feel something—some tension, some spark of Han struggling to come to the surface. Maybe he was trying to wake up and throw her out. She didn’t know. All she did know was that he was alive, and that had to be enough for today.

She clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle the sobs as she backed out of the room.

Just on the other side of the door, Bail Organa caught his daughter by the shoulders and spun her around, wrapping his arms around her as she wept.

“Shhhh, Leilila,” he whispered, his own tears escaping as he spoke. He rocked her gently in his embrace, patting her hair the way he always had when she’d needed soothing as a little child.

“I know I’ve already lost him,” she said, trying her best to get just a little hold of herself, “but I just can’t lose him again, dad. I can’t.”

“I know, baby girl,” he replied. “And we’re doing everything we can.”

[rowlets-are-seriously-round]

What's in a Title?

Summary: Virgil, Logan and Patton visits Roman's imaginary kingdom and finds out that they all have titles amongst the subjects in Roman's kingdom.

Warnings: Near panic attack, a bit of arguing, food mention, first fic

Words: 2724

(This is an idea from a conversation with @chemically-imbalanced-romance that sprouted from his amazing fanfiction. You can find both our conversation and the fanfic here.)

Taglist: @chemically-imbalanced-romance, @painfullybisexual

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Virgil would normally never agree to go with Roman on any of his quests, as he never knew what might happen. Roman had asked so many times, but now, he no longer invited him to adventures about slaying dragons or witches (or both, damn Dragonwitch), instead he asked Virgil to join him for picnics or walks. Roman wasn't an idiot. He realised quickly that Virgil would never join him on any trip that could end in danger. Therefore, he opted for ideas, where they could relax. He even made an entire kingdom, where no dangerous beast resided. He was normally against that, but he would do anything to bring Everlasting Gloom a new piece of scenery.

Virgil finally accepted. He was nervous the whole way to Roman's room. He was on edge inside the room and he tensed up, when they stepped through his mirror. But he gasped in wonder when he saw the forest and the pond and the small village and the fields and-

"Woaw, easy there, Fall Out Emo!" Roman had cought Virgil before he fell over from dissiness. Virgil grumbled, removed himself from Roman and pretended to smooth out the vrinkles in his hoodie.

"Soooo? What do you think?" Roman vedged, already knowing that Virgil at least found it somewhat impressive. Virgil rolled his eyes. Roman would do anything to get a compliment.

"It's nice, I guess…" it was a bit too bright for his tastes, but it was grand, and it was… Roman. Yeah, it was nice… Roman's smile seemed to light up the fantasy world even more. He puffed out his chest.

"Awww, I knew you loved me, Edgelord!" 

"Whatever, did you want to show me something, or what?" Virgil puffed. He was a bit on edge. What if Roman was going to drag him all the war through the village or up to the castle? …. Or into the castle?! Virgil's breath quickened and he started to tremble. He could feel a tingle running up his spine. His head felt numb and ice cold and heavy. He felt like he was drowning. He didn't want to go there. There would be crowded as everybody would surely want to greet their prince! What if they got seperated?! What if he got lost? He would never be able to get ou- 

"Virgil" Roman's voice cut throught his muddled thoughts like a sword… no… more like… water rinsening a dirty stone free of grime.

"S-sorry" damn, he hated his voice for stuttering. He wasn't weak! Roman searched his face, not with pity, but some kind of nearly-understanding. The prince gently took his arm and led him towards the pond. Virgil started to relax. The hand on his arm was like an ancre, keeping him grounded. Luckily, there were no people around the area, just like Virgil liked it. There would be nobody to damand his attention (besides Roman) or question him or being loud. He was starting to work himself up again. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. This was important to Roman. Roman who had tried so hard to include him and be kinder. They still bantered, but the words weren't so harsh anymore. 

They had reached the small lake. Ducks swam around, quacking and filling their beaks with the gross-green-whatever that was floating around in the water. He could never remember what it was called. They sat down and enjoyed the scenery. 

"Did you know that ducks can't eat bread? It will fill them up, so they don't feel hungry, but they get no nutrience from it, so they might starve to death." Virgil shared.

"Tumblr?" Roman asked. Patton would most likely have started crying and Logan would have given him a more detailed report as to why and how this happened. Roman would usually have made a dramatic gasp, sworn to protect the ducks from bread-feeding or proclaimed Virgil a mood-killer. But he didn't. The Sides where more than the Sides. They were more than what aspects they represented. And if Roman could put away his need for dramatics, Virgil could at least try to put away his negative demeanor.

"You are- It's really- … You did a really good job with this world… I like it… a lot…" Virgil wished that his tounge would stop tripping over itself. He nearly continued talking about the flaws of this world, but stopped himself in time and it was worth it. Roman's eyes were wide in astonishment. His hands flew up to his mouth while he squeeled in glee. Virgil snorted and gave a little smirk. 

The moment was ruined when a man ran towards them. Virgil tensed up again, when Roman rose to his feet. The man seemed excited and not frightened, but it did nothing to lessen Virgil's rising anxiety. 

"PRINCE ROMAN! PRINCE ROMAN! WHAT AN HONOUR!!!" The man yelled eagerly. Virgil guessed that he was a knight. He was certainly dressed as one. The anxious side had no idea, how the man was able to run that far with a chainmail, but everything was possible in Roman's imagination, he thought. 

"What is troubling you, Lancelot?" Roman asked worried. Virgil snorted at the name and Roman shot him a look. 

"Prince Roman, you have returned!" the man exclaimed and could barely stand still. "Your subjects have awaited you! You must come quickly! They are all waiting for you!" 

Roman shook his head, "My apologies, but I'm here in a different errand at the moment, but I will return soon enough," he said and gestured at Virgil, who had placed himself behind Roman. 

"Oh! The Shadow King! My apologies, sire! I did not see you!" the knight said and bowed deeply. Roman made an affronted noise and turned towards Virgil. 

"Shadow King??! How come, you're a king, when I'm a prince?! That hardly seems fair! And how come, my own subjects seem to have you in higher regards than me?! I created them!" By now the world had paused. The knight stood still as a statue, mouth still open while he was raising himself from his bow. If you looked up, you would see birds, frozen mid-flight, still in the air. It unnerved Virgil. It didn't feel right. 

He shrugged. He honestly had no idea as he had never met any of Roman's "subjects" before. 

He smirked. 

"Maybe, it's because I'm better than you?" he tried to sound innocent, but his growing smile ruined the effect.

Roman was better at hiding his own smile, when he grabbed his sword to stand in a majestic pose. 

"In your dreams, Emo Nightmare!" heh, back at the old nicknames, huh? Virgil chuckled and shook his head. 

"Let's head back to the others," Virgil said as he stretched "I wonder, what the others are called in your kingdom? Dr Bookworm and Mr Sunshine? Or do you think they have more regal names?" Virgil glanced at Roman, who huffed, but wore a thoughtful expression. The Prince led the way home. The trip was kind of ruined anyway and both parts were more curious about whatever the other two could possibly be called by imaginary townsfolk.

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"I could be a fairy!" Patton exclaimed, "And Logan would probably be a wizard or something!" he seemed to enjoy the idea a lot. 

"Although, I do not know as to why, Virgil was given a title by Roman's imaginary world, I do not believe that we can "choose" our own character as one would in a game," Logan said.

"Then we have no choice, but to find out! It's Adventure Time!" Roman was already ready for another trip, while Virgil just wanted to retreat to his room for a bit. Even though, their time in Roman's room hadn't lasted for more than half an hour, he felt worn out. Logan noticed this. 

"Perhaps we should wait with this experiment and conduct it tomorrow instead? This way, I will not need to interrupt my reading, and Patton will not burn down the mindscape with that bakery of his." 

"Bakery?" 

"MY CAKE!!!"

Patton's cake had been saved just in time, although it was a bit dark in the edges. They hadn't had the chance to taste it yet, as Patton had been determined in using it for their picnic the next day. If they were visiting the fantasy realm, they might as well make it enjoyable.

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Logan had been quick to point out birds that were made up, as he didn't recognize them and Roman was just as quick to refuse the offer of borrowing a book from the logical side about different bird species. Logan couldn't see the point of making up new birds, if Roman didn't even know, what they ate or why they had such amazing colours. 

"You are completely ignoring Darwin's theories of evolution! Take that bird for example! Why is its beak blue?! Is it a part of its performance for its mate? Is it because blue objects attract its prey? You cannot just make up a new race without-"

"Logan, PLEASE! Please stop… I don't care about all of that! Its beak is blue because it looks good!" 

Virgil and Patton shared a look and sighed. They could go on like this for hours.

“Can we please have our picnic now, guys?” Patton tried to defuse the growing tension. The two sides tried to be better at not arguing so often, they all did, but sometimes, it just couldn’t be helped. When you lived with people who were so different from yourself, arguments would naturally arise. And Patton was usually the one to go to, if you wanted a fight to break up. One would think that the others didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but the truth was that there was a reason for him to be the dad of their group. You didn’t want to face him in full Dad Mode. It was terrifying.

Roman and Logan quickly agreed and helped spread out the blanket. Roman found some rocks to place in the corners so the blanket wouldn’t flutter away. 

“What do you think this world would call us?” Patton wondered, it was hard for him to just relax and enjoy his slightly dry cake. “Maybe I’m the Dogfather!” he grinned.

“Patton, you cannot be a dog father as you are neither a dog nor an actual father,” Logan explained, while Roman groaned into his hands. Virgil tried to smother his sniggers. Patton ignored them all.

“Logan! You can be The Sun!” Patton gasped. Logan squinted. He knew what was coming.

“How so?” he asked. He might as well get it over with.

“Because you brighten up my day!”

Logan sighed. It seemed he couldn’t avoid neither idiocy nor puns today. He turned to Virgil, who was trying to keep a straight face.

“Shall we get this over with? I honestly couldn’t care less about whatever title Roman’s little world made up for us, but I surely hope that it doesn’t take a whole day. I do have other plans.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I’m with you, dude.”

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The picnic had been... nice… Virgil and Roman had as usual one of their disagreements, which wasn’t all bad as they tried to not be too insulting, but when Virgil had commented on how Roman didn’t live up to the princes in Disney, Roman had picked up his piece of cake and smashed into the anxious side’s face. And thus, the food war had begun. They looked like a mess. In the end, Virgil had apologised. He had definitely crossed a line. In turn, Roman had apologised as well. They still looked like an un-cool mess, but they were no longer glaring at each other.

Roman noticed how Patton was overflowing with excitement and Logan was overflowing with…. Impatience… and decided to get it over with. He loved his dreamscape, but knew that the others didn’t have such a strong attachment to it. While he could spend hours in there, the others were already done and over with it. Well, except for Patton, naturally, but he was excited about nearly everything. Therefore, Roman decided to call for his trusty knight, Sir Lancelot. The name certainly lacked creativity, but he had liked the character so much, that he had to use it himself.

The knight appeared almost immediately from a path near the forest. This time, he was riding a nut-brown horse.

“Prince Roman! You have returned!” the knight was quick to bow down as soon his feet landed on the ground. In the beginning, Roman had made all his imaginary figures talk like in the middle ages, but it had quickly grown old and insufferable.

“Sir Lancelot! You’ve already met Virgil here-“

“Ah, yes! The Shadow King!” the knight bowed again 

Roman squinted at the man. He had interrupted him! How dare he?! Roman sniffed before turning his attention toward his nearly blind friends.

“Yes. As I was saying; you’ve already met Virgil, but here’s my other friends, Logan and Patton!” the prince swung out his arm as in presentation. Patton held his breath, waiting for the outcome. The two left-brained sides rolled their eyes. 

For the third time that day, the knight bowed and it was honestly getting tiring, according to Virgil, who bit his tongue to keep his sarcastic remarks at bay. Logan had the same opinion, but could also see the value, the knight held in terms to Roman and his self-worth. It was painfully clear now, how much Roman craved the attention, respect and acknowledgement the knight overflowed Roman with. Logan made sure to remember note it down and praise Roman a bit more in the future. Of course only because it would help Thomas’ well-being. Naturally.

“Lord of the Nerds and King of Hearts!” the man exclaimed. Virgil snorted and hid his face behind his bangs, his shit-eating grin still visible.

Logan blinked, not quite believing what he just heard.

“Awwww! That’s cute! I’m the King of Hearts AND I HEART YOU ALL!!!” Patton yelled flailed his arms around.

“Well, now that this is over with, I believe that it is time to return. Agreed?” Logan was so done with this whole escapade and just waited for them to return to the mindscape.

“Well, I can only say that this turned out to be a CAT-ASTRO-phe!” the others stared at him and seemed confused.

“What? Logan told me that ‘astro’ means star! And I also really like cats…” Patton giggled. Virgil snorted, while Logan continued to look confused.

“But why would you mention stars? You usually follow some kind of logic with your... so-called witty puns,” Logan looked like he had smelled something unfortunate.

“Because you’re my star,” the moral side whispered.

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It was a few days after their trip and one might believe that they had pushed the whole ordeal to the back of their minds or that everybody had forgotten about it. Sadly, that was not the case. Ever since they had returned, whenever Roman and Logan was arguing, Roman had pulled his so-called ‘trump-card’. 

“Logan, please remember, who the prince is here!” he would say and make some kind of sassy pose. It was getting tiring and old really quickly.

“To be honest, our so-called titles form your underlings does not matter to me the slightest, and I cannot see, why you put so much weight on a nick-name from somebody that has only met us once.” Logan was getting ready to throw in the metaphorical blanket and just give up. In Roman’s dreamscape he had realised just how dependent the Prince was of flattery, acknowledgement and praise, and he really tried to not drag him down, but it was getting hard with the way Roman continuously tried to fight and mock him with their new-found titles.

“What’s the matter Logan? Can’t handle me being better at something than you?” Roman glowered, while Patton and Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and coffee, respectively. 

“I wouldn’t quite say that, as I have no interest in these titles, therefore it does not matter to me if your rank is higher is mine. You on the other hand-“

“Please be quiet children, the kings are talking,” Virgil interrupted with a smirk. Even Patton berating Virgil couldn’t make him stop grinning at the flappergasted looks he received.