#but that seems less likely given how concerned we see the clan is about what happened to him

[vitamiiiiins]

very tangential thought with all the info we've learned in this chapter but i am thinking about the bookman jrs and their right eyes... we're pretty sure the eye has smth to do with the bookman clan. it's confirmed that (current)lavi doesn't wear his eyepatch because of an injury. but it seems like past!jr's eye is just gone... and with a scar over it.

so do you think it was like... removed. by himself maybe? since he says he *was* the bookman's successor, but not anymore. maybe he removed it bc by removing a key component he couldn't be the bookman successor anymore, freeing himself of the obligation

[a-lost-archivist]

[It’s a video attachment. Would you like to watch it?] //TW; Threats, yelling

——

It’s Kamado’s office. Well, most of it, the angle is a bit awkward. It seemed Cassette finally figured out how to use Jon’s phone, though, since the man himself clearly wasn’t the one recording.

Speaking of..

Adaman stepped into the room, followed closely by Irida, and then Jon. They wore grave expressions, creased with worry.

Irida was the first to speak.

“You.. did call us here to discuss the quelling of all the nobles, didn’t you?”

Kamado shook his head as he stood with his back to the trio. “No. There are far more pressing concerns afoot.” He cast a glance in Jon’s direction.

What..

“Jonathan. The strike that drove Kleavor into a frenzy struck the very night you fell, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It.. did.” He confirmed. What was he..

Kamado nodded with a huff. “When Wyrdeer was driven to terror, it avoided you specifically.”

“…yes, I am aware” Jon’s tone was cautious. He glanced to Irida and Adaman, each of them just as puzzled as he was.

“Either, you’re simply unfortunate, or..”

Kamado paused for a second, the whole room held its breath.

“What are you, Jonathan!?” He whipped around and stomped forward as Jon violently flinched.

“I- what-?”

“What have you brought to my village!?” He took another step forward, now stood between Jon and the exit.

“I didn’t-!” Jon sputtered. Irida and Adaman only looked onward in shock.

“These frenzies came from the very rift you fell form and follow you like a plague. Do you take me for a fool?!” He stepped even closer to Jon, physically crowding the terrified man. He’d ran out of space to move back, now stood in front of Kamado’s desk with nowhere to run.

Jon thought back to their first meeting

He thought back to how easily Kamado was able to throw him in just a friendly sparring match.

He thought of what the man might be capable of, if given proper reason.

Something in Jon’s expression shifted.

“You hope to gain our trust by fixing the destruction you’ve brought. And with that, what else will you take. What do you hope to gain!?”

“I didn’t want this you goddamn idiot! I didn’t want any of this!” Jon snapped. You could almost call it bravery if you couldn’t see his the way his hands trembled and his breathing stuttered on every breath. If you couldn’t see how frantically he searched the room for another exit.

“Then why else would we be here, Jonathan. Why else if not by your hand.” Kamado now stood less than a foot from the smaller man, looking for all the world like he was about to take his life.

“I haven’t done-!”

“Can you prove your innocence!? Or is this just another lie.”

“Kamado, look at him” Adaman finally made a move, grabbing Kamado by the shoulder to pull him away from the terrified archivist. “Do you really think he has the sort of fearsome power to cause this?”

Jon, pitifully human and utterly terrified, already knew the next words out of Kamado’s mouth.

“I do.”

Both clan leaders gave the commander a look.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve gone mad! You feel it too. He’s dangerous.” He gestured wildly to Jon, nearly hitting the man and making him flinch violently.

“I-“

“No. Not another word from you.”

“Kamado, what do you expect him to do about this?” Irida was the one to speak up this time.

Kamado stepped backwards, pinching his brow. “I don’t want to see him within our walls until this is resolved. He will investigate this, but not as one of us.”

…What?

“Kamado-“

“Get out. If I see you before then, I will not hesitate to do what is necessary to protect my people. Do I make myself clear?”

Jon didn't need to be told again. He was gone in a matter of seconds.

——

[mokutone]

For the character ask thing..idk if you have any opinions on him but Neji?

HMMMMM. yes i do have some feelings abt neji :)

answers under the cut!

favorite thing about them —he's like a bomb ready to go off at any minute, and he is daring you to light the fuse. he is taunting you to light the fuse. he is actively encouraging you to take that match and light the fuse and make his fucking day. i find this compelling in a character.

least favorite thing about them —i wish we got to see him like. need his friends a little bit more. he seems to tolerate them more than he depends on them, and while that makes sense given that he never wants to be forced to be dependent on anyone, it's like. he has to be. at some point. nobody is an island etc etc and his friends are sooooo ready and willing to love and support him. i wish we got to see that more?

favorite line —HMMM no specific line stands out to me?

brOTP —him and tenten :) i like when they give each other looks about gai sensei and lee :) theyre really cute and silly, and i'm glad they have each other to be cynical and rude with

OTP —i don't care about this kind of thing! i don't get the impression that neji does either, you know, given the whole "i do not want to need anyone" vibe

nOTP —i don't care about this kind of thing.

random headcanon —i think gai sensei may have straight up offered to adopt neji when he found out abt the hyūga clan situation at home and neji had such a bad reaction to that they never bring it up to discuss it again. it's not that he doesn't like gai, it's that he didn't feel this would have solved any of the problems with the hyūga family, and if anything it possibly put neji at greater risk of backlash, and would bring gai under fire too. it just kind of frustrated him more, and made him feel even more trapped in his situation. and also a little like gai did not understand him when he spoke about it. this said, he still thinks about it sometimes. and like, what his life would've been like if he had the ability to say "yes, get me out of here" without fearing the repercussions. he doesn't know how to imagine the kind of person that situation would have created.

unpopular opinion —is this an unpopular opinion? i don't think he's a prettyboy simply because he has long hair. nothing about him seems to be all that concerned with looks, he is simply a very serious little guy, with very long hair. this also seems to be the case with most hyūga men, at least in the main branches of the family...indicating, i think, that this is less about his personal concern with his looks, and more about adhering to tradition. saying this makes me feel like the like. the hair-cut-symbolism police or something because i also generally read yamato's long hair as being more a symbol of him being forced to assume the role of knockoff-hashirama, instead of him having fun with gender and being pretty, but also...i don't know...the context around these characters in both of these cases leads me to my assumptions!

song i associate with them — Up the Wolves by the mountain goats. here. here have a look at this. I'm gonna get myself in fighting trim Scope out every angle of unfair advantage I'm gonna bribe the officials, I'm gonna kill all the judges It's gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage

favorite picture of them—

this is kind of. yeah. three whole jōnin (and kurenai but u cant see her here) leapt in to restrain this kid, and gai, with that fucking. Look Of Constipated Concern he gets when he sees kids in pain, is trying to remind neji NOT to let his fuse get lit over this battle, and neji just straight up cannot hear him, he's so furious. he like straight up wouldve killed hinata. hooh boy.

[vrishchikawrites]

Its a prompt! (And dont worry about it, absolutely love reading your writing XD) Okay so dimension travel, so we all agree in a world where WWX was raised in another sect (like Lan/Nie) That he would be absolutely adored by them and everyone, healthy relationships( even Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian wouldn't be on a bad term much because no WWX JYL interaction) so! Canon!WWX from post ssc timeline gets transmigrated/summoned to one of these worlds where hes raised by either Lan or Nie so 1/2

They're a bit confused seeing WWX in black clothes, and seeing his gaunt/tired appearance and him being so on guard around them (since he's usually open and loved) that they ask him why is it so? Does he not know Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue back from whicher place he came from, and Wei Wuxian goes 'Ive met them/we're not close' they ask 'sorry if its a bit personal but who were you raised by?' and WWX replies the Jiangs and cue everyone horrified cuz Jiangs areopen in their heavy dislike of WWX2/2

'It's my fault.' Nie Huaisang thinks as he frantically collects all the materials needed, 'It is my fault, I need to fix this.'

His er-ge was gone. His brother, Da-ge's pride and joy, the shining star of the Nie Clan.

Gone. Just like that.

One minute they're on an easy nighthunt and the next, Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to take an attack straight to his chest.

He knows his brother is gone. His body may be alive, but just barely. He's drowning in his own blood and there's nothing Nie Huaisang can do. There's no cognition in his eyes, that bright silver gaze is dull and blank.

He has to do something.

The ritual may not work. It came with so many warnings that Nie Huaisang lost the patience to read them all the way through. If something goes wrong, it goes wrong.

"Huaisang! What are you doing?!" Da-ge's voice is loud but Nie Huaisang doesn't pay any attention to it. The room is sealed and it would take da-ge some time to break through it.

"Nie Huaisang!"

Good, Lan Xichen is here. He'll take care of da-ge if something goes wrong.

"Huaisang!" There's a loud crash but he doesn't pay any attention to it, "Stop! Don't do something stupid."

"I need to save him. It is my fault, I need to save him!"

"Huaisang!"

There's a bright red flash and it drowns out everything.

---

Miraculously, he survives.

His fledgling Golden Core has shattered and melted into nothing, but he has survived.

And he has done it.

"Does your stupidity known no bounds?" Da-ge demands as Lan Wangji kneels by er-ge's bed and feeds him potent spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian is alive. His cognition is intact and his Golden Core is stable but he's soaked in Resentful Energy.

"You destroyed your Golden Core, Huaisang! There's no recovering from it!"

"Wouldn't you do the same?" He demands, turning around to look at his oldest brother. He ignores Lan Xichen's alarmed voice and focuses on Nie Mingjue, "Is his life worth less than my Golden Core?"

Da-ge locks his jaw but doesn't reply. Of course, Wei Wuxian's life is worth more than a Golden Core.

"Huaisang," Lan Xichen sighs, "a-Xian wouldn't have wanted this."

"Look at Wangji-xiong and tell me that again." He says bluntly. He is tired and drained but no one can convince him that reviving er-ge wasn't the right choice.

Xichen-ge doesn't reply because no one can look at the devastated expression on Lan Wangji's face and say it wasn't worth it.

Huaisang doesn't feel the absence of the core as keenly as someone else might. He had only developed it during the Sunshot Campaign, after all.

He isn't like er-ge or Wangji-xiong, with their powerful cores and potent spiritual energy. The loss would've been devastating to them but is only an afterthought to him.

---

They realize something is off when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and looks at them with distant wariness instead of familiar affection. He looks around and is instantly on guard, "Where... Why am I here?"

He looks directly at Wangji-xiong, "Lan Zhan? What are you... Have you brought me here?" He demanded, his expression shifting to something hostile, "Are we in Gusu?"

"Wei-gongzi," Xichen-ge calls for his attention, "I know you're very confused but please don't be alarmed. We're in your home at the Unclean Realm, not in Gusu."

Er-ge narrows his eyes and Huaisang recognizes that expression, even though it has never been directed towards them. A look of cool calculation as er-ge tries to decipher their motives. "My home?" He asks.

Wangji-xiong knows er-ge almost as well as they do. He reaches forward, "Wei Ying, let us explain, please."

It appears that this Wei Wuxian is just as vulnerable to Wangji-xiong as his brother had been because he softens immediately. His body is still tense but he seems to be willing to listen.

"You died in this world, saving Huaisang's life." Da-ge begins gruffly. Huaisang winces at the bluntness but er-ge seems to appreciate it, his sharp gaze focusing on their elder brother, "Yes, this world," Da-ge confirms, "Our didi decided he wouldn't tolerate it and decided to use one of our forbidden rituals to revive you. He didn't read things clearly. The ritual dragged your soul from another world and placed you in his body."

Er-ge's expression is skeptical, "Our didi..."

Wangji-xiong sucks in a sharp breath, "Wei Ying," His brother's gaze moves to his 'best friend', "You are Wei Wuxian, 23 years old, the Head Disciple of QingheNie Sect, the adopted younger brother of Nie Mingjue and older brother to Nie Huaisang. You were adopted by the former Nie-zongzhu when you were six years old."

Er-ge stares at Wangji-xiong in stunned disbelief but there's no denial in his expression.

No wonder, Wangji-xiong never lies. That must be true in his world as well.

"a-Xian," Er-ge winces and looks at Xichen-ge, "You need to rest and recover. Your Golden Core is stab-"

Er-ge gasps and immediately sits up, placing his hand on his chest. He closes his eyes and almost violently summons his spiritual energy.

"Wei Ying!" Wangji-xiong calls out in alarm but his brother doesn't pay any attention, his focus entirely inward.

"I have my Golden Core back..." Er-ge breathes, astonished but his skin goes white and he loses consciousness.

They exchange stunned glances before scrambling forward to check on him.

---

No one can deny Wei Wuxian has changed. It takes a month for his body to recover but his heart is still unsteady. He puts on every appearance of being alright, but Huaisang has grown up with this man. He knows something is off.

It is only when er-ge decides he needs to start training again that things start to become clear. Er-ge has trained all of his life to fight with a Dao. His movements are powerful and aggressive, designed to overwhelm the enemy.

Er-ge's mind, however, is accustomed to the traditional Jian. He seems to expect his movements to be lighter, faster. More agile and less powerful.

The dissonance makes him clumsy and he loses his first fight against Lan Wangji in a long time.

"Wei Ying?" Wangji-xiong frowns, "Your movements."

Da-ge has his concerned scowl on and he grabs Baxia, stepping into the training field, "With me, Wuxian."

This fight is faster and more brutal. Huaisang almost wants to protest but he can see er-ge adjust and adapt quickly.

His eyes gain a razor-sharp focus and his battle instincts come to the fore. "Good," Xichen-ge observes, "He's accepting his body."

Indeed, he is. Against da-ge's overwhelming force, there's nothing er-ge can do but react instinctively. They engage in several bouts and keep at it for over a shichen.

By the end of it, er-ge is exhausted but faintly triumphant.

"Lan Zhan, again!"

"Wei Ying, you need rest." Wangji-xiong says with a shake of his head, "Don't strain yourself."

"Why were you fighting like you wanted to wield a Jian, didi?" Da-ge asks sternly, "You were hesitant and weak in some strikes."

Er-ge grimaces and Xichen-ge steps forward. It has been over a month and though er-ge has seen how much they all care for him, he remains wary.

"a-Xian," Xichen-ge begins gently, "You weren't a part of the Nie Clan in the past, were you?"

Da-ge's scowl deepens at the thought of er-ge belonging to anyone else but them. They had suspected something like this, of course. But they had hoped that er-ge would've still been a part of the Nie Sect if not the Clan.

Er-ge remains wary but sighs, "No."

"Not the Lans," Xichen-ge observes astutely, "Not the Jins either. Were you a rogue cultivator? Or from a smaller sect?"

Er-ge studies him before shaking his head, "I was the Head Disciple of the Jiangs."

"What?" Wangji-xiong asks, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, "Jiangs?"

Da-ge looks furious and Xichen-ge seems pained. No wonder, given how... problematic the Jiang situation is. That family is entirely unsuitable for someone as loving and giving as his er-ge!

Jiang Wanyin is a complex mix of pride and insecurity. He lags behind all sect heirs, though Huaisang is fairly certain their batch of cultivators is particularly skilled. Er-ge and Wangji-xiong are exceptional in every way and Jin Zixuan is barely a few steps behind.

In the face of such competition, skilled but ordinary cultivators can't help but be overshadowed.

Jiang Fengmian, according to da-ge, is a meek little imitation of his former self. The man that pursued er-ge's mother had been strong and wise. He had the skill, political acumen, and grace to be an admirable Sect Leader.

His marriage to Yu Ziyuan ruined him.

And Yu Ziyuan is a nightmare. The one time she met Wei Wuxian, she had left such an impression that da-ge had cut all ties with the Jiang Sect until its Madam apologized to the Nie Sect Head Disciple.

That hadn't gone down well and the relationship between them is still sour.

"Do you want to return to them?" He blurts out, unable to help himself. If Jiangs are this Wei Wuxian's family then maybe-

"No."

They still because that's a very firm no. It is a complete and utter rejection of the very thought of it.

"No."

---

Getting the whole story out of er-ge is like pulling teeth but between Wangji-xiong's pleas, Xichen-ge's gentle questions, da-ge impassioned demands, and his own begging, they manage.

This Wei Wuxian doesn't love them yet but he sees their love for him clearly. That softens his heart and they get to hear every painful, excruciating aspect of his past life.

Wangji-xiong looks furious, da-ge paces, Xichen-ge is pale, but all of that doesn't matter.

He recognizes the look on er-ge's face. He has never seen it on him before, but he recognizes it.

Er-ge expects them to reject him. To abandon him for his 'sins'.

"Well, I don't have a Golden Core. Can you teach me Demonic Cultivation?"

"Huaisang!" Is yelled from almost every direction but he only has eyes for his older brother.

He sees those tired silver eyes study him for a moment before they soften completely, turning into the color of liquid moonlight. "You brat," Er-ge murmurs affectionately, "The thought of you wielding that power is nothing short of terrifying."

"But er-ge! Can you leave me defenseless, just like that? Don't you feel sorry for me-"

"Huaisang!" Da-ge snaps, "Stop trying to manipulate your brother!"

"Really, a-Sang, it isn't right for you to-"

Er-ge laughs. It's familiar, loud, and openly joyous. Silver eyes sparkle as he looks at them, "Don't worry, da-ge, he's a hundred years too early to manipulate me."

Wangji-xiong huffs, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan," Er-ge teases, "How is that you manage to reprimand me by only saying my name? Shall I try it too? Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"

"And they're flirting again." He murmurs under his breath, drawing an amused look from Xichen-ge.

"Perhaps we really need to start betrothal negotiations," Xichen-ge says and da-ge scoffs.

"Not going to happen unless you're willing to part with your brother. Mine is my heir. He's not marrying into the Lans."

"Da-ge, be reasonable-"

Huaisang tunes them out and waves his fan in front of his face, his mind whirling.

He doesn't care about er-ge's marriage negotiations. He has bigger fish to fry.

Really, those Jins and Jiangs are getting too bold.

[xiyao-feels]

Finally got around to writing down some thoughts on the differences between Empathy and the original—per scene and then a general reflection.

Episode 10

(episode 10 differences)

Going through this chronologically, our first comparison is the captain encounter. Honestly I think NMJ was straight-up inventing most of this—even aside from the sheer absurdity of MY, what, smuggling XY out of prison, bringing him into the middle of everything (he runs into the Captain and friend AND WWX!), XY…just going back into prison…well, anyway, putting all that aside—the Captain's questions here seem like NMJ's preoccupations, not the Captain's. The Captain is hugely contemptuous of MY, but he's not, like, obsessed with his innermost heart, you know? "You're lying! I just saw that. You were talking. Tell me honestly. What's your ulterior motive?"—that's NMJ, not the Captain at all. Plus there's the way the Captain grabs MY basically the exact same way NMJ does. 

Next up there's MY telling NHS he's going to go check on XY—minor phrasing differences aside, one thing that's interesting is we don't get all of MY's reaction/decision before he tells NHS in Empathy, just the tail end:

Ahhhh, now, the bit where NMJ sees MY stab the captain! You can see here the beginning of a pattern of Empathy erasing the Wen. MY throwing himself in front of the blade to save NMJ is removed, of course, but so is NMJ fighting WZL, as he was before going to the prison in episode 10; in the Empathy he's just kind of standing there. And then sees MY, uh, creepily pick up a sword??? And follows him??? Instead of hearing that XY's escaped and running to the prison because of that, which is of course what happened in episode 10. (So XY is erased some in this scene, too; even when it comes to MY's excuses, he says It wasn't me, but we don't get to 'Xue Yang killed him', as we do in the original.)

Some other points of interest here… Of course the expression NMJ sees on MY as MY kills the captain is only shown in Empathy. Interestingly, also, while MY is quite clearly terrified at NMJ's approach in both, in episode 10 it's presented immediately, while in the Empathy he has a beat before he starts reacting that way.

The last scene—NMJ confronting MY and kicking him out of Qinghe. In the Empathy, we start with MY having been thrown onto the floor, rolling—but this isn't there in episode 10, and to be honest I think it probably didn't actually happen. First, while I can see NMJ throwing MY onto the floor, I don't actually think he'd throw him quite that hard at this point in time? And it's also got a lot of visual echoes of JGY rolling down the stairs; I think he's projecting backwards. Of course, it still takes MY longer to recover in episode 10; Empathy consistently minimizes the physical harm done to MY.

So the conversation is interesting because it's really just two different conversations in the Empathy vs episode 10. In episode 10, MY leads with the Captain's abuse of him, and he's clear that it's habitual, ongoing, long-term. In Empathy, he leads with the Captain releasing XY, /adds in/ that the Captain wanted to kill him (that's not there in episode 10!), and absolutely skips over and minimizes the abuse: the beatings aren't mentioned, the credit-stealing isn't mentioned, the insulting and humiliating… even the 'Every time' is removed from before the 'he humiliated my mother', making it seem like this was a one-off provocation instead of habitual. NMJ's somewhat unhinged rant about MY's motives, including the would you have killed everyone at the cave if I hadn't helped you, is also Empathy-only (and then when MY starts to reply NMJ is like, Don't lie to me! and MY shuts up, suggesting perhaps that a denial would have been lying, which may be part of why people think this is a remotely reasonable assertion).

Some other interesting things—in episode 10, we see NMJ lift his sabre and then lower it, unable to go through with it; in Empathy, we don't see that at all—in general I think there's less of a sense that he's struggling with his decision, in Empathy, it's more just like He Is Doing The Righteous Justice. Fascinatingly we also don't see him put Baxia away in Empathy—I think he must because we see a scene where he already had, in episode 10, but we don't actually see it. We also don't see MY, injured, get up and thank NMJ and walk out, or indeed NMJ's conflicted gaze after him; the scene cuts off too soon.

Episode 22

(episode 22 differences)

There's only one scene for episode 22: the WRH, NMJ, and MY scene, inside Sun Palace. Right off the bat, we have the Wen erasure again; the episode 22 scene starts with WRH directly addressing NMJ and tormenting him and his Nie cultivators, whereas the Empathy one only starts when MY walks in. (Although interestingly MY addresses WRH as xiandu, while he doesn't seem to say anything with his bow in episode 22).

This one is an interesting scene because there's relatively little overlap? In the episode 10 scenes, you mostly saw different versions of the same events; in this one there's some of that, but there are also large chunks of time that are only in episode 22 or only in Empathy. Most of the MY-interacting-with-NMJ is only in Empathy, including, yes, the damn sabre touch. But we do have the beginning of MY talking to NMJ in both. MY's expression is different in Episode 22 vs Empathy—it's a little hard to capture in a still, but it's a lot more, mmm, simpering-mockery in the Empathy version?

Ah, one detail that's interesting—so, in CQL—which is to say in Empathy because we don't see this sequence at all in Episode 22—when that Nie cultivator calls the place 'a den of Wen' he uses 温/温氏, for Wen, and then when people are insulting MY in this scene they're using 走狗. But in MDZS all of those are actually 温狗, Wen-dog. Which is definitely more directly disrespectful to WRH than the 走狗 insults, but I feel like in general CQL doesn't use 温狗 a lot, while in MDZS it's all over the place—so while it's an interesting detail I'm not sure it's suggestive for Empathy in particular. Hmmm.

We return to things being shown in both Empathy and Episode 22 with NMJ shoving MY back. In Empathy, we only see MY stagger a little, while in episode 22 it's quite considerable—again, Empathy's tendency to minimize the physical damage MY suffers.

And then MY kicks NMJ in return! Okay this is actually fascinating, because in Empathy, it looks like this totally wipes NMJ out, and the scene stops here. But that isn't at all what happened! He's knocked onto his back, yes, BUT he recovers and comes up and shoves MY hard enough he goes flying: 

He gets up and goes to attack MY, and would probably have killed him if WRH hadn't interfered. Which, don't get me wrong, is entirely reasonable of him given his understanding of the situation but it is not at all the impression you'd get from Empathy. If anything NMJ's collapse in the Empathy after MY kicks him looks like the collapse he has after WRH finishes with him, in episode 22. And MY saying How dare you be so rude in front of Clan Leader Wen when he kicks NMJ is also removed—the whole sequence here is really another example of the removal of the Wen from the Empathy scenes. 

Incidentally, MY didn't actually kill all the Nie cultivators, in this scene. If you look while MY is flying back, at least one of them is still alive:

And then you can see all four are dead while NMJ's attacking WRH:

But MY has been on the floor recovering from NMJ's attack, so he definitely didn't kill the at least one and quite probably two who are still alive.

WRH asks MY if NMJ killed Wen Xu question; you have MY staying quite noticeably silent, which I think is still meant to be understood as MY saving NMJ's life. I guess they changed it because the MDZS version really doesn't work with the flow of events as happens in CQL? For the record, in MDZS MY answers yes, but then immediately suggests that they torture him instead of killing him immediately, and then once WRH isn't set on killing him immediately, kills WRH on the spot and starts lugging NMJ's unconscious body out of there. So there's no WWX for distraction, and Sunshot's army definitely isn't right outside, there's only LXC he sent a message to and who hasn't quite shown up yet—so in MDZS he's taking a bigger risk, and more unambiguously saving NMJ's life and winning them the war. Which is not, to be clear, to in any way minimize CQL MY's astonishing bravery and achievements.

Episode 23

(episode 23 differences)

So in both we start with LXC holding NMJ and looking down at him. In episode 23, when NMJ sees MY, we see LXC see and notice his reaction and /then/ look over at MY in concern, whereas in Empathy we don't get that moment—it just goes to both of them looking at MY.

NMJ demands his sabre back, and in both MY complies, though in the Empathy one he takes a beat longer and looks more worried about it. In the original, MY also has "Let me explain" which is dropped from the Empathy.

In both we have NMJ attacking MY with Baxia, and trying to get past Shuoyue—in the Empathy it's a bit shorter, though, and we also lose LXC asking NMJ what he's doing this for. I think that goes with cutting LXC seeing NMJ react before he looks over at MY, above; the effect is to make NMJ's response seem more obvious/natural, when in fact LXC is pretty baffled by it at the time.

"he became the Wen's underling and had been helping the tyrant at Nevernight!"—the language on 'became the Wen's underling' is actually different in episode 23 vs Empathy. In episode 23, you have 原来投靠了温氏; in Empathy, though, it's 原来是做了走狗. Note the 走狗 as earlier!

Okay, and now the big one: LXC giving NMJ reasons they should trust MY/not kill him. Empathy cuts most of this. It keeps that MY is the one who sent the map, but it drops: that the reason LXC is here today is because MY sent him a message; that MY was the one who schemed to get WRH's guard down, and then /killed him/; that MY was the one who saved LXC's life after CR burned; and that MY independently approached WRH to spy on him and has been sending LXC letters the whole time. /That's really not trivial. That's a lot to cut./

I wonder if this has any relation to the common idea that LXC did not in fact have a lot of very good reasons to trust JGY.

(Incidentally it's after the MY killed WRH reveal, in episode 23, that NMJ lowers his blade.)

...also. so. In episode 23 LXC asks MY, you know, didn't he already tell NMJ about all this (a question which makes a lot more sense in MDZS, where NMJ has already woken up before LXC joins them, but I just run with it), and MY says, you saw it ZWJ, even if I had he wouldn't have believed me. And NMJ—again it's kind of hard to capture in a still, but he pretty much reacts like he thinks that's ridiculous and MY is just making excuses/being manipulative?

And then of course that gets erased from the Empathy, as well as as just mentioned most of the reasons LXC actually gave. So. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Oh, this also means it cuts what I'm pretty sure is the first on-screen use of A-Yao—it does show up later in the Empathy version of this scene, so I don't think that's hugely significant, but just as a note.

Then there's MY kneeling in preparation for apology, which is in both Empathy and episode 23. The Empathy cuts make it seem like he kneels pretty much right after NMJ lowers his blade, though, and we don't get to see him making the deliberate choice to step out if LXC's protection to kneel—again, I think it makes LXC seem more understanding of NMJ than he actually is here.

The apology proper is only in Empathy; honestly it mostly seems fairly reasonable to me, although it does mean you only hear LXC saying "But I believe, when he was doing such things, deep in his heart he must have been…" after the version that cuts most of his reasons for believing that. In terms of actual changes, I wonder if LXC reacted more quickly/strongly to the bit where it looks like NMJ is actually going to kill MY? It's definitely more understated than his previous reactions, and it would fit with the other changes made.

Last scene: the oath. At this point I think it's fairly well-known that NMJ looking at JGY, and LXC turning his head to look at them both, is only in Empathy—there's also, maybe?, a small change to the text; in episode 23, "Both God and people will be furious with us" is 天人共怒, but in Empathy it's 天人共戮. I say maybe because—on the one hand, the subs definitely use a different character, and it's in both the YT subs and the Netflix subs even though those aren't always 100% identical, but while I'm not usually checking the audio for this I did here because it's just the one character and the audio pretty much sounds the same to me? (ep 23) (Empathy) Could just be my ear, or a mistake on the subs' part or the audio part, who knows.

Overview

Looking at all the changes together, a few patterns emerge.

First, people who are doing damage who aren't JGY—the Wen, XY—tend to get minimized or erased from the narrative. Similarly and to some extent as a result, the harm caused by JGY is exaggerated; also similarly, the good that JGY does is also minimized or erased. Meanwhile, the damage done /to/ JGY is minimized—both the environment of abuse he suffered at Qinghe, and the physical harm done to him, which he usually recovers from much more quickly in Empathy (even when the attack itself is made stronger as, unusually, it is in the confrontation where NMJ kicks MY out of Qinghe). Finally MY is made more manipulative than he necessarily is; while I'm not saying he's never being manipulative, NMJ understands his expressions of weakness as /purely/ manipulative and inherently false, when in fact the weakness MY expresses is very real, however calculated, or not!, its expression may be.

Honestly—in this JGY who does way more harm and way less good than he actually does, who is more powerful and experiences less damage than he actually does, who is never actually weak but only acting that way to manipulate people? I feel like I'm seeing a lot of where popular takes on JGY come from.

[just-someone-who-likes-to-write]

May I request Nuada with a human reader that is a new witch. Something fluffy maybe?

Again, no access to my laptop yet, but I will try my best to do the request through my phone, and again I am so sorry for the errors!

I was planning for this to be simple and fluffy story but my imagination went a but wild but it still has many fluffs!! Please enjoy!!

You closed as you held your hand forward to the fire bowl in front of you, clearing your senses you tried to connect with it but was unable to.

"Concentrate, (Y/n)." Said your teacher, and you tried but still felt no connection to the element. "Most witches can manipulate fire, you are just not trying enough."

Her words made you angry, which made your determination to proof her wrong rise. You took a few steps forward, believing that maybe the problem is with the distance, but you quickly stopped and pulled away when you got too close and almost burned your hands. Your teacher let out a disappointed sigh as you checked your hand for any injury.

"What am I going to do with you?" She said getting your attention. "You can't manipulate objects, or teleport, or control a simple human mind, and now not even control fire!"

You said nothing only held your hand in front of you and kept your head down in shame.

"You are a good Brewer, I admit that." She said. "But any other witch can be a Brewer, even humans even they had the ingredients!"

"I'm sorry... " was all you could say.

"Saying sorry without accomplishing anything doesn't make you any useful to the King!"

"What is the meaning of this?"

A familiar boming voice called making both you and your teacher tense as you turned to the double doors. Right there stood Prince nuada, his signature frown showed on his face and he made his way towards the two of you.

"Your royal highness!" Exclaimed your teacher who quickly bowed and you followed her action. You kept your head down until you saw his shoes standing in front of you.

"Raise your head." He ordered and you did. His golden eyes met yours fir a brief moment before looking to your teacher.

"What honor do we have that his highness decided to visit us?" Your teacher said with a smile, you'd have believed she was in a good mood if she didn't just yell at you a few moments ago.

"I came to see the progress of your students, but only could hear yelling from the end of the hall." He said in a very displeased manner making your teacher tense.

A few months ago the Elf King had extended a hand to the witches, asking for thier aid against the human and offering protection and ressources as an exchange. Your Cover was one of the few who agreed to stand by the King. However, unlike your sisters you weren't as talented as them, they could conjure spells to fight and defend against humans but you could do none of that. So your teacher had decided to use the King's ressources as a chance to give you better education, hoping your power would awake, but it didn't.

"My deepest apology your highness." She said bowing again. "It's just one of my student is being... Difficult."

"Difficult?" He repeated in question. "Elaborate."

She then went onto this rant of how you can't do anything, how you can't manifest one spell that could benefit the King or your self at that matter. The more she talked the more you wanted to dig a hole into the ground and hide yourself in it, you clenched your dress, fighting back tears of frustration. You were doing your best, and she doesn't even giving credit for that as she continued saying your were lazy. It only took for the Prince to lift his hand up for the elder witch to be silenced.

"I will be dealing with the young lady personally." He said but you kept your head down, missing how troubled your teacher looked.

"that's... That's very generous of you your highness, but I can't imagine letting you-"

"You said that this young witch is wasting resources, time, and refusing to learn. " he cut her off. "So I need to personal make her understand the wrongs of her actions."

It was a short while until your teacher finally walked away to leave the room. The Prince stood right in front of you but said and did nothing until both of you heard the double doors shut. It was silence between you two, only the cracking of wood in the fire behind you could be heard. Nuada reached forward, placed his hand under you chin and gently lifted your head so your sad eyes could meet his affectionate ones.

"My little witch, why do you look so sad?" He asked concerned. You pulled away from his hand.

"My teacher is right I can't do even one simple spell." You said. "But I swear it's not because I'm lazy!"

"I know my dear." He assured, and even though you are grateful to know that he was at your side, it still didn't make you feel any better.

You and Nuada had started this secret friendship of yours when he found you wondering around the royal library, which later you found out it was forbidden for anyone else but the royal family to enter, that day to apologized none stop, which amused the Prince. After that he kept finding you, always saying that he wants to make sure you won't be going to any forbidden areas, and from that some kind of a friendship blossomed between you two. But you wanted to keep it a secret, because if anyone found out of the kind of treatment he is giving you they'd think he is picking favorites.

"Let's go to the garden." He said pulling you out of your thoughts.

"But we can't be seen in public together. " you said. "Everyone would get ideas."

"What ideas?" He asked raising a brow.

"That there is something between us." You answered with a shrug.

"And what is wrong with that?"

his question made look up to him with confusion, but you couldn't see the look he had for he was already making his way to the double doors, obviously not taking a "No" for an answer and with a tired sigh you followed. As expected your teacher was right outside waiting, when she asked nuada simply answered that he needs to show you just how much they are giving hoping it would motivate you to work hard, which was an obvious lie but your teacher seems to believe him as she continued to thank him for his "merciful" choice of a lesson for you. You just repressed rolling your eyes as you followed nuada to the royal Garden.

When you first arrived to the Bethmoora clan palace, King Balor has welcomed you, as well as other covens with open arms and provided a tour in the palace so you may know where to go and where was what, and so far, Your favorite area was the garden. You walked side by side with Nuada in silence, he had his hands behind his back, his posture straight and head held high like a true Prince, while you wondered around at almost every touching it and smiling them, except for those, which were poisonous but admured from afar.

"You truly love nature don't you, little witch." Said Nuada breaking the silence.

"I do very much so." You confirmed. "I used to go on walks in the woods when I was younger, just find a beautiful tree with plenty of shade to set beneath and read... "

You paused as your smile slowly turned into a frown.

"It all changed when humans started hunting us down." You sighed. "We had to hide away, which means no going outside, I was very depressed being stuck in for walls with nothing else to do but practice, practice practice!"

Your last outburst made nuada chuckle.

"Glad to know my pain amuses you." You said with a pout.

"Never, my dear." He said with a smile. "You can simply be too adorable I can't help it."

His statement made you blush and your turned your head away pretending to inspect the flowers below. After knowing the Prince for a few weeks he started saying these complements that left you beaming red, you just assumed it was his nature to do so, but whenever he was with other people he'd be the scary intimidating Prince who's no-one dared to address him in less than his given title, but when the both of you alone, he insist on you calling him by his name.

"(Y/n), I have a question for you." He said having your full attention.

"Yes?" Whenever he called you by your name it's serious.

"Witches can have different powers an abilities, correct?"

"Yes, every Witches Coven is different than the other, for example I heard of those who can use dolls, which is strange yet intriguing."

"And you cannot do the same things your coven does, am I Correct?" He asked again.

"Yes... " Your shoulders slumped and as your brows furrowed in a sad manner.

"Then have you ever considered that maybe you do not share the same abilities as your sisters?" He finally asked and you gave him a look of bewilderment.

"What are you trying to say?"

"What I am trying to same my dear little witch, is that you cannot do the things your sister can do easily... " He said and you almost gonna retort angrily but he continued. "Because you do not carry the same ability as them."

"Are you saying that I carry different abilities?" You asked looking down at your hands.

Nuada started to lead you to another part of the garden a more private part near the palace walls where vines stretched high against the wall. And you would have questioned the location if you weren't already questioning yourself.

"Set down." Said nuada breaking out of your train of thoughts.

"Where are we?" You asked looking around confused as nuada lead you to set in a clear spot with no plants just grass.

"This is my secret place." He answered. " no-one knows of it except Nuala."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To do this."

He said before pinning you against the wall. Your eyes were widened in shock, your (E/c) eyes met his golden once, he started to slowly lean down, and move brought his mouth closer to your ear.

"May I steal a kiss?" He asked almost timidly,and a blush crossed your face at the request.

You would be lying if you said you didn't dream about your relationship with Nuada to grow more of that of a friendship,but to happen so suddenly and finding out he to desired it, in such private place like this made your heart beat fast. You lowered your head and gave a timid nod giving your consent. The Prince delighted,he lifted your head up and chuckled probably by how tight you kept your eyes closed, but that didn't stop him as he leaned down and pressed his lips against your own. The kiss wasn't agressive or passionate, it was a simple chaste kiss that still made you feel as if your spirit has flown to the heavens and came back as he slowly pulled away. that was your first kis but it left you in such daze that you didn't hear what Nuada said.

"huh?.. What?" You asked quickly looking uo to him. He smirked at your reaction.

"I'm happy to see what kind of effect does my touch have on you.. "He said making you want to look away but he quickly stopped you and made you look above you. "However, you too seem to have a special touch of your own."

He was correct, because the simple green vine that was behind you has many white flowers blooming on it and you were speechless because they weren't there before. You pulled away to have a better look and the flowers seems to go as much as the vines, even the vines seem to have taken even larger parts of the palace.

"I... I did that?" You asked in wonder.

"You did, my little witch." He said with pride as he wrapoed his arms around you and hugged your from behind. "Yes you did my darling (Y/n)."

---

Nuada was waiting at the end of the hall where your teacher's chamber were, he could have waited right outside but he didn't want to draw attention. He heard the doors open and you bowing one last time to your teacher before closing the door and leaving. You had entered empty handed but got out with many different books in your arma that you struggled to lift. Nuada hurried by your side to carry them from you.

"What did she say?" He asked, and you gave him a big excited smile that brought his own.

"You are looking at the very first green witch in our coven!" You almost screamed.

"A green witch?" Nuada asked confused.

"Yes, I can't manipulate or create fire like my sisters." You started to explain. "But I can and will be able to manipulate plants, rocks, animals, the earth and weather!"

"And these books will help you?" He asked looking down at the books that talked about different plants, herba and history of green witches.

"Yes, and I can't wait to read them all." You gave a shy smile to nuada. "Thank you for helping me realize my true powers."

"Why are you thanking me?" He asked genuinely confused.

"You knew in was a green witch." You said. "You told me how I can be different kind of witch than my sisters and took me to... That place."

You blushed at the memory of that kiss.

"You are mistaken my dear, for I didn't know you were a witch of nature." He confessed.

"But... The kiss... " you trailed off.

"I kissed you because I wanted to do so for a long time now." He said with a mischievous grin. "And judging by the way you reacted you wanted the same thing."

Your face was pure red as you snatched the rest of the books from his hands and ran away to your room, being embarrassed made you forget how heavy the books were and hearing Nuada's amused laugh from behind didn't make it better, but for some reason you couldn't help the smile on your face for you just found out that Nuada returned your feelings.

---

Again sorry for any errors, or if it's too long and I hope you enjoyed it!

[robininthelabyrinth]

A Sick Thought - Part 3 - on ao3 or on tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Lan Wangji had long ago suspected that he had done some terribly wrong in a prior life, if only because something had to explain everything he’d suffered from the death of his mother to the destruction and rebuilding of his sect to the loss of Wei Wuxian and the terrible wrenching pain that accompanied it.

If before he suspected, now he was certain.

There was no other way to explain why else he would be tormented by the return of his beloved – as a feline.

He had difficulty even thinking about that, really, even though he’d gotten relatively used to dealing with the fact of it in real life. The thought just sounded so absurd in every possible way:

Wei Wuxian is back, but he’s a cat.

The Yiling Patriarch returned at last, meowing.

Purr, says Wei Ying.

(That last one tended to lead him to disturbing thoughts, and so he refrained.)

They were traveling together now, working together, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian together. It was everything he’d ever dreamt of, except for the part that his wildest fantasies on the subject somehow failed to cover the possibility that Wei Wuxian would be small, four-legged, and insist on riding on Lan Wangji’s shoulder except for when he felt the distinct need to zoom around wildly and would pelt up and down the road at top speed, chattering cheerfully as he did.

Similarly, when Lan Wangji had imagined sharing a meal with him, he had perhaps anticipated Wei Wuixan’s eyes going big and round and pleading, the way he inhaled the smell of spices, the way he would reach out to grab – but he hadn’t anticipated that he would need to bat away Wei Wuxian’s little paw before he consumed anything with onion, garlic, or other alliums, which were bad for cats, and would instead be feeding him little bits of raw chicken with no salt. Sometimes, even often, he would succumb to Wei Wuxian’s pleading and rub on a tiny little bit of chili powder – spice was also bad for cats, no matter how they lusted for it, and so it was bad for Wei Wuxian no matter his pleading. 

He had imagined sharing a pillow with him, hearing his breathing, and they did, he did - and yet, they were literally sharing the pillow, Wei Wuxian’s entire body curled up into a perfect orb of cat right next to his cheek and sometimes waking him up with foul cat-breath, and instead of needing to watch for nightmares he was more concerned about dreams involving chasing (Wei Wuxian had pounced on his forehead ribbon more times than he could count). He could sooth him with his hand, as he’d hoped, but there was a lot less sighing and a lot more purring - a rumble like distant thunder, more vibration than sound - than he’d thought.

Also, he’d imagined their duets to include somewhat more flute-playing and less…yowling.

Yes, it was all…very, very different.

No matter. It wasn’t important that it didn’t match his dreams; what was important was that Wei Wuxian, his Wei Ying, was back.

That was what mattered.

“I really wish we could’ve gotten more information from Mo Xuanyu,” Wei Wuxian said, padding along at Lan Wangji’s side. He’d permitted Lan Wangji to replace the cheap red ribbon Mo Xuanyu had found for him with something a little more elegant, and Lan Wangji hadn’t been able to resist using one of his spare forehead ribbons (dyed red, of course, to match Wei Wuxian’s tastes); the obvious end result of this pleasurable subterfuge was that Lan Wangji was now having some difficulty looking straight at Wei Wuxian without blushing. 

It seemed an appropriate example of suffering the consequences of his own actions. 

“I know he doesn’t know anything about the ghost hand – or the legs, I guess, now that we’ve gotten them, and wasn’t that weird with the Nie sect? Poor Nie Huaisang looked even more torn up about it all than I would’ve expected, all dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, you’d think he’d be better at running a sect if it’s been a decade already – anyway, I’m distracting myself from the main point. The main point is, I can’t help but feel like this whole thing is connected to Mo Xuanyu somehow.”

“Agreed,” Lan Wangji said.

Poor Mo Xuanyu.

Lan Wangji had not in nearly a decade and a half regretted his decision never to willingly set foot in Jinlin Tower, but now that he had seen what work they had made of Mo Xuanyu, he regretted nothing more. He who took such pride in being where the chaos was had missed the chaos and wretchedness right under his very nose – for Mo Xuanyu was very wretched indeed.

Lan Wangji had resented Mo Xuanyu at first, always laying his hands on Wei Wuxian without the slightest bit of shame – not that there needed to be shame, given that Wei Wuxian was, well, a cat, and of the subgenre of felines that Jiang Cheng for some unspecified reason continued to crudely refer to as “cuddle-sluts” – and for how Wei Wuxian worried about him and cared for him. 

It did not help that Mo Xuanyu was so well known for being a cutsleeve. 

And then, one day, Mo Xuanyu had gotten Lan Wangji alone and told him with great emphasis that he was deeply devoted to his successful courtship of Wei Wuxian, offering his help in any possible respect, and also wistfully added that he wouldn’t mind it very much if Lan Wangji were willing to offer some suggestions on how to court Jiang Cheng, who was utterly oblivious to any hints.

After that, Lan Wangji remembered himself what shame was, and guilt, and felt it thoroughly – it was no excuse to say that being around Wei Wuxian roused his worst protective and possessive instincts, for it was his duty to overcome them. Be strict with yourself, the rules said, and as always he had failed to remember the rules when he needed them most.

The extent of his pettiness was only magnified when he thought about it all more closely. Mo Xuanyu was not merely someone to be pitied, was more than simply a victim who had suffered under the outrages of the Jin sect – the harassment, the abuse, the deliberate poisoning and destruction of his mind in order to reduce his credibility...That was all bad enough, and it pained Lan Wangji to no end to hear it. 

But more than abuse, more than madness, more than exile to a misbegotten place that somehow managed to beat out Jinlin Tower for sheer viciousness –

It was due to Mo Xuanyu that Wei Wuxian had returned.

He had been willing to give his very life, his body and soul, to bring him back.

And for that, Lan Wangji owed him everything.

Even when it meant –

“We should return to the Cloud Recesses to fetch him,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Wuxian craned his head around – his tiny, tiny head that could easily fit into Lan Wangji’s palm, covered in a short layer of fur more comfortable than the softest silk – to look at him in curiosity. “I understand that it is a detour.”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian said. “You wouldn’t propose it for no reason, either. What are you afraid of? He’s in the Cloud Recesses, and with Jiang Cheng – surely he’s as safe as safe can be.”

“It is nearly the end of the month,” Lan Wangji said. “My brother will be returning home soon.”

“So?” Wei Wuxian asked, puzzled. And why should he not be puzzled? To even think…and yet. And yet, and yet, and yet. “Jiang Cheng will explain everything to him, won’t he?”

“My brother will be returning home,” Lan Wangji said again. “After a month and more abroad.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him silently, awaiting an explanation. His tail lashed gently against Lan Wangji’s leg.

“He was visiting his sworn brother,” Lan Wangji said. “Lianfeng-jun.”

“Jin Guangyao,” Wei Wuxian said, his tone heavy – he had understood. “Does your brother visit Jinlin Tower often?”

Lan Wangji nodded tightly.

“And has for many years, I expect? Since the end of the Sunshot Campaign.”

He nodded again.

“Surely you don’t believe that he knew what was happening to Mo Xuanyu?”

Lan Wangji hesitated. “I do not know how he could not have known,” he confessed. “I think to myself if I had only been there – if I had overcome my disdain for the Jin sect –”

“Don’t think like that,” Wei Wuxian said at once, a balm to Lan Wangji’s soul. “You couldn’t have known. The Jin sect is the most talented at deception and misdirection – they wouldn’t have let you see. Nor your brother, either - you would have seen only what they wished for you to see, and poisoned the well of your thoughts to discount anything you did see.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Wangji said, and felt more at peace. It was true that even his brother, with his token, could not so easily travel through the depths of Jinlin Tower freely, without an escort. “I do not think Brother knew.”

“I agree. Impossible.”

“And yet - his sworn brother...it is not unheard of for Lianfeng-zun to unexpectedly accompany my brother back to the Cloud Recesses, and I cannot bring myself to believe that he did not know. As a precaution, therefore…”

Wei Wuxian’s ears flicking back and forth. “I see your point. But still, I don’t think it makes sense for us to go to them – why not write to Jiang Cheng and have him bring Mo Xuanyu to meet us here, while we investigate the Chang clan?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“I’d prefer that, anyway – I really can’t use regular cultivation without Mo Xuanyu around, just demonic cultivation. As we continue to hunt for the ghost pieces, it’ll be good to have both.”

Lan Wangji wondered a little at that. In their first life, hadn’t Wei Wuxian completely abandoned normal cultivation in favor of demonic cultivation?

If so, why the shift back now?

“Besides, I have an idea I want to try that involves him,” Wei Wuxian added casually, so casually that Lan Wangji merely nodded and did not question and did not know until it had already happened.

“Success!” Wei Wuxia hissed in delight, then frowned, poking at his teeth. “Well, mostly.”

“You turned yourself into a catboy,” Jiang Cheng said, his hand over his eyes. “Because of course you did. I hate you. Have I mentioned that I hate you? Becuase I hate you.”

“What’s a catboy?” Jin Ling asked. Apparently he had insisted on joining them, as had Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi – Lan Wangji would have instructed them to remain, but Jiang Cheng had yielded more or less immediately to their requests.

Typical.

“You don’t need to know,” Jiang Cheng said at once.

“How do you know?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Jiang Cheng! What are you doing going about knowing things about catboys? We’ve talked about this –”

“What? No we haven’t! We haven’t talked about anything! You spent the entire conversation that we had over catnip crying your eyes out about how tasty pheasants are!”

Lan Wangji had always surmised that there was more to the conversation than that, being as both of them had emerged significantly less likely to murder the other, but he didn’t have any presence of mind to devote to that line of thought.

Or to any thought.

Not when Wei Wuxian was…well, mostly human.

He had his old face, but a build that more closely resembled Mo Xuanyu’s slenderness and height; his hair was the correct shade, but poking out from the strands were two now-familiar ears that flickered back and forth with excitement. And he was also possessed on inhumanly sharp canines, sharp claws, and what appeared to be a very active tail.

All the features attributed to…well.

Catboys.

(Lan Wangji had also seen the specific genre of pornography being referenced and every single one of those images – including his particular favorite, which involved a collar – was refreshing itself in his mind with a new figure in each starring role.

He was going to spontaneously combust.)

He stammered some excuse and fled the scene at once.

By the time he returned, they had more or less packed up to continue following the guidance of the ghost hand – it almost reminded him a proper night-hunt, actually. The adults, such as they were, led the way, with the juniors following behind, chatting amongst themselves; Mo Xuanyu was hanging off of Jiang Cheng’s arm and chattering at Wei Wuxian like old friends, his eyes curved up in crescents, with much of the terrible pain that he had always carried sloughed off like an old skin, while Jiang Cheng nodded along, oblivious to any hint as always.

Lan Wangji was abruptly struck by a feeling of – satisfaction, he thought.

This was good.

(Don’t look at Wei Wuxian or you’ll start slowing down the trip.)

But how could he resist?

He headed over and took his place at Wei Wuxian’s side, receiving a wide smile – he would die a thousand times over for that smile – for his troubles.

“What do you think, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked him, and then barreled right on with the conversation without bothering to wait for a response.

Yes.

This was good.

This was how it should be.

Even Jiang Cheng, who Lan Wangji had despised for years…he made Wei Wuxian happy. And since that was the case, Lan Wangji would be willing to put up with him – on a temporary basis, anyway.

“What is this place, anyway?” Lan Sizhui asked from behind them.

“It’s called Yi City, with the Yi as in ‘coffin’,” Wei Wuxian said casually. “Didn’t you see the marker outside?”

“A better question,” Jiang Cheng said. “If it’s supposed to be a city, why isn’t there anyone here?”

“There is, though,” Lan Jingyi said, pointing. “Look, over there – huh, no. I must have seen the wrong thing.”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu said, and him actually disagreeing with someone when it wasn’t in the middle of one of his fits   was so unusual – even after he’d had so much healing – that they all turn to look at him.

He was smiling.

“You’re right,” he said, clapping his hands together happily, his eyes fixed on the distant spot. “There is someone there! I can see them!”

He raised a hand and waved.

“Xue-gege!” he shouted. “Xue-gege, it’s A-Yu! Come out and meet my friends!”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

i saw your post about Charles and what his personality past and part in the story line so i was wondering if u could do the same for vlad? :)

Ah, well, I can at least let you know what I’ve seen so far? I haven’t delved too far into Vlad, and some of his general impressions can be confusing, so I’ll do my best to make it sensible and unbiased! Here you go lovely <33333

Fair warning, there will be mentions of a lot of JPN app content since Vlad and his boys aren’t around much in the ENG app yet.

My general sense of Vlad is basically discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha.

What I mean by this is to say–according to what I’ve read so far–his clan/family were murdered by vampire hunters in cold blood when he was just a young boy. Presumably as a result of that traumatic event, he harbors a sizable enmity towards humanity and kind of lashes out on them in weirdly specific moments of violence. Another aspect of his motivation is something that’s mentioned within Comte’s route; which is that Vlad went through the timespace door on his own one day and allegedly saw a devastated future, where nothing remains of life on earth more or less.

I guess the reason I find him to be so perplexing is that he speaks about his actions in terms of efficiency, while most of the things he does just feel like unhappy outbursts (v often a product of unresolved trauma symptoms, I’d wager.) I also say this because he appears to have no larger pattern to his fury beyond the original event of his loss. Most of the human beings he attacks aren’t much of a threat to him and hurting them really doesn’t bring him any dividends beyond revenge.

For instance, he insists his disdain for humanity and insistence on controlling them is for the sake of ensuring they do not destroy the future–the horrifying wasteland he witnessed when he traveled through the timespace door. However, I’m not really sure how his current movements really speak to that goal? I mean sure, maybe he’s relying on Faust to create an immortal human so that humans will be forced to care because it will be their future too, but he doesn’t allow Faust to draw his pureblood blood for experimenting. (One can most certainly argue this was more about a lack of trust, and perhaps for plenty reason: Faust is vindictive enough to try to turn the tables and exert control over Vlad, or act on his own whims with his findings.) But if that’s the solution he’s waiting on, turning the rivals of the men in the mansion doesn’t really bring him any closer to that vision either? I mean, what good does it do to bring back Gilles de Rais–a prominent French serial killer? How would unleashing him on the populace help humanity “realize the error of it’s short-sighted and wasteful ways” and move to a brighter future?

Can’t help it, I ask these questions as I read.

In Comte’s main story, Comte hammers home that Vlad is not somebody to be taken lightly. One day when MC goes out to buy flowers, Vlad poses as a human florist to sell them to her–which is how Comte finds out he’s in France, and that he’s made contact with MC. When prompted, Comte describes him in a very particular way; and I think people really overlook this when they talk about their relationship. He says that Vlad is frighteningly pure in terms of the way he thinks and acts. The way I understood his description (given what I’ve seen of Vlad) is that Comte really does mean it point blank: Vlad is very simple in terms of why and how he does things. The issue with this is that nuance and context are lost on Vlad as well–and that’s where the problems start to flood in. Vlad is angry at humanity for what they’ve done to him. Baseline? That’s fair, they killed his damn family. However, Vlad thinks that by extension he has the right to decimate the general public and attack people completely uninvolved in his hurt.

And that isn’t right either–it’s ignoring so many factors here. He’s ignoring how much vampires use and toy with humans as pawns, it’s ignoring the massive power imbalance between him and his victims (this really isn’t a case of self-defense most of the time, nobody but Comte/Leo is a sizable threat to him), and he’s ignoring whether or not a person even did anything to deserve his retributive violence. While murder is never okay, it is perhaps more understandable when we see Jeanne’s frenzied and violent belligerence in response to a man who murders a boy’s mother for the sake of his own amusement/convenience. Vlad literally sees almost every single one of the rivals he created begin to heal/improve and murders them in cold blood because they are no longer of any use to him. That’s uh……..that’s a little messed, not gonna lie to you chief.

While part of me understands the efficiency here–he doesn’t want to leave any traces of his involvement, he doesn’t want any loose ends–it’s also just kind of foolish and cruel ultimately. From my understanding of the narrative, all the people he turned had some visible sign that indicated their origin to Comte. So even if he claims it was for the sake of concealment, it was more likely about his personal convenience. Which…..also yikes.

[Comte clearly does not trust Vlad to be reasonable, and I think there’s plenty of good reason enumerated above, but I actually don’t sense quite so much hatred? I think he’s just given up on the idea of Vlad growing up, even if he doesn’t like giving up on people. And considering Vlad’s behavior, I think it’s overkill to say that Comte just abandons him because he doesn’t care lmao. Even when Comte expresses real anger at the end of his own route, it was more because Vlad was fine with endangering MC’s life just to get back at him. I think Comte’s unhappiness with Vlad has more to do with Vlad’s treatment of human life as meaningless and worthless. It’s fascinating but also kind of sad? Vlad’s traumatic experience results in behavior that is a direct exacerbation of Comte’s trauma, and as such--no matter their potentially fond history--they can’t stomach each other.]

In Comte’s route, Vlad also has Shakespeare abduct MC and take her to the cathedral. Later on in the castle, we see an immediate display of Vlad’s shocking powers: he has the ability to manipulate people’s desires/thoughts. I’m not exactly sure how this works, but he is able to give MC visions of the mansion and Comte coming on to her–which shocks her into realizing it’s all just a dream. It’s not reality; it’s all manufactured by Vlad.

After that...weird introductory note...Vlad gives MC the rundown on his life together with Comte, which as always is subject to a question of bias. My assumption is that he did not lie, only because he was trying to convince MC that he was “right.” Furthermore, he does not omit the most damning evidence of his erroneous judgement, which suggests a continued inability for him to see where he went wrong.

We get a series of three flashbacks. The first is them as young kids. I don’t know if Vlad had already experienced the horrors of his family being destroyed, but this particular flashback focuses on Comte. His parents, in an effort to teach him that vampires and humans have no ability to co-exist, send away all of his teachers/mentors/nannies/the servants--pretty much everyone and anyone he was closely bonded to. Think about it this way: we can see that Comte is very sociable and affectionate by nature. He was living in a house full of people, all of whom cared about him and looked after him in their own way. Now the house is entirely empty. Naturally Comte is very very upset, and Vlad appears to try to cheer him up with little success. 

[When I look back on this scene I don’t think I initially registered the sheer dissonance of Vlad’s reaction, versus Comte’s catatonic misery. There was a very solemn feeling to that memory, and the correct choice in terms of extending comfort is to hold his hand believe it or not. There is a sense that he feels very alone. When young boy Vlad enters one can argue that it was the proper thing to do; he was trying to cheer up his playmate and friend. But at the same time, I think I need to double check. Because I’m beginning to wonder if I was wrong. What if Vlad was happy to see someone as alone as him, and that joy is accordingly dissonant for that reason? He can’t see what Comte needs or how he’s hurting because he’s so glad he isn’t alone anymore in a way.]

The second flashback is the war nurse scene that I have spoken at length about. The important thing to focus on here is Vlad’s surprise that Comte would opt out of turning her out of respect for her wishes. The way Vlad frames the situation is starkly different from Comte’s. Comte sees himself as an outsider, somebody who invaded her life as a result of the timespace door and therefore has no right to suddenly change the course of her fate. He had no idea if she even wanted to live (considering the horrors she’d have to cope with and remember) or leave that time period at all, for that matter (considering the only thing keeping her going was helping the wounded/victims). Comte really was listening to everything she had to say, and he was taking her concerns and motivations seriously. 

Vlad simply says: if you want her, take her. It’s as simple as that for him. And in one way that’s not entirely wrong--assuming Comte would have every intention of looking after her and actually cares a lot about her. But what’s being ignored here is her agency and the fact that they really don’t know each other that well? Something like that could begin and be rocky, if it doesn’t end in complete disaster. Worse, I get the feeling Vlad is perfectly fine with the notion of turning her and if things don’t work out, just kill her or get rid of her. Again, the simplistic thinking comes into play here: it ultimately comes down to Vlad being self-centered. He’s thinking only in terms of satisfying his needs, he doesn’t seem to have any concept of a larger pair or group feeling. There’s an inability to bend/be flexible for the sake of maintaining a greater harmonious feeling. 

[For the record, I don’t think this makes him irredeemable? Only that it makes it very hard to live with him or love him, probably. There’s an inability to live at a joint pace? It’s always answering to what he wants without room for anything else most of the time, which to me is not living and it’s not love ;;;;]

Following their escape back to their own time, Vlad explains how he wants to use the door to turn geniuses and control humanity. He eventually wants to create a surveillance state, which would mean everyone is forced to move with his explicit approval, more or less. (He almost reminds me of Louis XIV, can’t tell if that’s what they were going for.) I have my doubts that his abilities could extend that far, but human history shows us that we are plenty susceptible to fascist and totalitarian rhetoric. In a shocking display of anger, Comte draws the line at controlling humanity and forcing them into a regime in which, and this is Vlad’s description not mine, “we (purebloods) would be like kings.” There’s definitely a concept of evolutionary superiority at play here, which echoes what I mentioned earlier; vampires seem to have this awareness that they’re apex predators in a sense, and enjoy the power that comes with that. Unfortunately, that probably makes for a fairly toxic/uncomfortable larger species culture, which is exactly what Comte and Leo hate lmao.

Vlad does not seem to find any issue with this sort of outlook, and asks MC to decide which of them--Vlad or Comte--is right. Who is more realistic, who best understands the future? As expected the MC replies that it's Comte, and Vlad goes from beseeching to big mad at record speed. He's p much that gif of the teddy bear that smacks its head down on the tables and then has the angry eyebrows.

This is where Comte intervenes, firing a warning shot that grazes Vlad's cheek and demanding he let MC go. In response, Vlad shoves MC into the turbulent timespace door--p much guaranteeing MC's death. (Essentially timespace is a void of sorts, a human being could never survive in that environment for long. Vlad fully knew this, and yeeted her anyway.)

So uh, yeah. Disagreement? Death. Moving on? Death. Nuanced approach to reality? Death. Beginning to think he doesn't really have a lot of patience or open-mindedness or any other kind of problem-solving approach. 

He raises flowers and gardens like a fiend, and he openly plucks any single flower with a blemished leaf. Even if a single petal is slightly damaged, it will be removed and destroyed. So one could argue his extremism reflects a kind of perfectionism as well. No room for errors or troublesome dissent. No ugliness of any kind. I mean in all of his interactions with Faust and Charles this is the overt undertone. Don't ask more of me than I'm willing to give. Behave like good children, mommy's busy. Is that insubordination? boss music begins

One thing I actually don't understand very well is his decision making in Dazai's route. Dazai finds out about what Vlad's doing in a nanosecond when he senses MC is in danger, and yet Vlad makes absolutely no move to eliminate Dazai? He just watches from the shadows. Even when Dazai grills Charles about his loyalty to Vlad, no retribution.

My best guess for this specific situation is that Vlad does derive some level of satisfaction thwarting the future of human beings/former humans. Dazai--being somebody with no great desire to live, no rivals to speak of as far as we can tell, and no larger aspirations--is a life that is easily extinguished. There's no satisfaction in it. When Vlad's clan was murdered and he saw the future decimated, it could be that he felt humans had invaded and eradicated every potentiality that was important to him. Where he might have lived happily with his family, that future was ripped from his grasp. Where he might enjoy his flowers and the creation of an immortal for the rest of conceivable time, that too was ripped from his grasp with a desolate future. 

So much about who Vlad is is about control, so it's very possible his lashing out is an extension of that. Dazai does not awaken any of the disdain he feels, and he does not succeed in overthrowing Vlad's control over Charles, so Vlad simply lurks in silence.

And last but not least, I've seen the preview to Vlad's newest birthday event story. The contents are incredibly revealing, in that MC wishing him a happy birthday and offering him a gift has him saying that it was "the best birthday ever." Granted idk if that’s sweet or just...beyond sad, but here we are. It’s only compounding my curiosity about the wound on his chest--I really do wonder if he was attacked and locked away by vampire hunters or hostile human beings or something. I say that only because that line speaks to a lot of isolation, and given how little he seems to care about turning people/subjecting them to his whims it feels odd. Why the isolation or lack of people who care about him? Is it a perceived lack where his actions alienated all the people who wanted to be close to him, or is it a more involuntary lack?

When she says let’s celebrate again next year, he seems a pleasantly shocked by the notion, and remarks “Ah yes, it’s a promise c:”. The preview was also mega horny: “You make me feel so loved, I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight. If you enjoy it so much, then I won’t stop. I want to see you completely lost for me. I’ll teach your body what it means to be loved by a pureblood.” Aaaaaand pretty sure the CG was alluding to him licking the good stuff from her basement, though not entirely sure given it was only the preview. 

The brief POV they give us is also very revealing:

“You always keep your promises, and I think I underestimate all the time how much you saved me. You are good, only you are good in this world.”

“Will we continue to make promises to each other in the future? Well in that case--you will always, always be mine, my vampire.”

Tbh he’s...v sweet? In his own way? Honestly he feels like a crabapple that is just so sick of the world and wants softe wife to take comfort in. While granted that’s not really my thing, I know a fanbase appeal exists for these types--so if that’s your thing, have at it!

So now that we have reached the end of my ridiculously long analysis (when am I ever brief, I’m so sorry. If you made it all the way here you deserve a cookie at the very least, if not the right to chase me with a bat) perhaps it’s more clear why I said discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha? “My clan is gone, every other second I’m going to be in retraumatization insanity, when I’m not I’ll be seeking power/hobbies, planning the demise of people who wanted the best for me, building a team to my advantage and unquestioned control, and eventually settling for a lifelong love who sees the best in me despite my more difficult moments and perceived hollowing loneliness. Not the most ideal comparison, but I will say if Vlad was not already named the historical figure, would have pointed and yelled Uchiha.

That’s all from me folks, hopefully this was a fun way to get introduced to him? And again, hope I didn’t alienate--I fully respect what people do and don’t enjoy o7

[sapphire-wine]

I would like to thank the academy and @jazjo33 for this opportunity and for supporting me all the way. Without further ado, the trope-filled Gavinners y/n fic, with a little twist. I think it's a given that it was neither proofread nor beta read.

I would like to dedicate it to @digitalstowaway

If anyone who wasn't in on this finds this please this is a joke this is a joke this is a joke this is a jo-

Y/N woke up. She needed to get ready to start her day.

She threw her hair into a messy bun. She adjusted her crop top shirt and looked in the mirror. She didn’t think she looked very special, but everyone else always liked what she looked like.

As heir leader of her gang, she was very busy and responsible for the lives of others. Everyone looked to her to lead them. They were her pack (she was also a werewolf), and she needed to provide for them.

She needed to get her coffee from the local coffee shop. She always went to the local shops. Not the name brands, she wasn’t like all of the other girls.

She gave her name and waited at the front of the line.

A man came in a little after her, seeming somewhat familiar. He wore sunglasses and a hat. His skin was pale and tan. He looked over at her, smiled, and walked over to give his order.

“Y/N” the barista called.

“Y/N?” the man said, “I used to know a girl named Y/N. She was really special to me. Well, I have to go.”

The familiar man left as quickly as he came. Y/N was a bit disappointed, but she didn’t let it show across her face.

She grabbed her mocha latte and went back to her small mansion.

Daryan, her right hand man, greeted her at the door.

“Hi Y/N. We’ve been waiting for you.” He said, sultrily.

“We have work to do, Daryan.” Y/N rolled her eyes, they were half blue, half pink. It was a special trait that designated her status as a werewolf. Luckily, many non-werewolfs didn’t notice it. She pushed past him into the house. He grabbed her arm as she walked past

“You’re late to the meeting with your parents, the pack leaders.” Daryan called over his shoulder.

“We’ve decided to sell you to the rival gang. Their leader will be here to pick you up tomorrow.”

“But mom! Dad! I’m the heir to the pack! You can’t be doing this!” Y/N yelled.

“We are. You leave in the morning. Daryan will help you back.”

Y/N turned to Daryan.

“I’m coming with you Y/N.”

“Daryan, you can’t. They’ll kill you.”

“That is a risk I’ll have to take. I can’t let you go into that nest alone.”

“Daryan..”

“Y/N…” Daryan looked like he wanted to say more, but then he punched the blanket and left.

“Goodbye…” Y/N said glumily, now alone. All this time, she thought her and Daryan were close friends, possibly closer. She thought he was her special someone, but now she wasn’t sure.

She fell onto her bed, and started texting a number she usually texted when she was upset. She found it one day when she was upset, and the person on the other end of the line was always understanding. They never told her their name. And she never told them hers. That did not make their connection any less strong.

The next morning the vampire leader came to take her away. He gave a credit card to her parents, to complete the transaction.

The vampire was a tall figure.

He took off his sunglasses to reveal two red eyes.

“My name is Klavier. I am the leader of my gang and also a vampire and I am here to take you to my vampire nest, Ja?”

Y/N was shocked. This was the man from the cafe! The familiar-looking man! The man from the cafe was the vampire leader of the rival gang. He ruled over his half of the city like a sheriff. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was a bit of a bad boy. He would protect you if you asked, and decimate his enemies.

Y/N was brought to the vampire nest. It was a mansion in LA and very high status. Y/N could tell by looking at it. (A/N: We don't have mansions where I live, but I bet they're pretty big!)

She walked through the door.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” A familiar voice said.

“Daryan?”

“Hello Y/N”

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I would come with you.”

“It is dangerous.”

A vampire came and interrupted them. “Our leader would like to meet with you. In his chambers.”

Y/N said goodbye to Daryan and went to Klavier’s chambers.

She saw Klavier standing at the window of his room. She tried to talk to him but he seemed lost in thought.

Because she was upset, Y/N started texting the number of her close friend, who she did not know the name of. She heard Klavier’s phone go off, and she gasped. He opened the message, and responded to it in front of her. She gasped again.

Klavier looked hopeful, but then his face fell.

“I...cannot be with you.” He whispered. Y/N was distraught.

She was beginning to think that Klavier was her special someone. She didn’t want to lose him to this.

“I...have a secret.” Klavier looked away, his shirt blowing open by the wind.

“And what is that?” Y/N questioned.

“I don’t like eating humans. It is unclean. I am….unclean.”

“No. That’s not true.” Y/N crept closer. She placed a hand on his chest. “It’s not true. Because you feel bad about it. That’s real, you’re real. I’m real. We’re real. Together. And together we will not eat humans.”

Klavier , “You’re right Y/N. Of course you’re right. You’ve always been right. Even when we were little.”

Y/N gasped, “you remember?”

“Of course I remember. You were very special. You were special to me. You still are.”

“Oh...Klavier…” Y/N leaned in.

“Y/N…” Klavier also leaned in.

They fell onto the plush big bed together.

Y/N woke the next morning in Klavier’s bed. It was empty. She was slightly disappointed. She went to her own room.

Waiting outside of her room was Daryan.

“Daryan!”

“I waited for you all night, Y/N. Where were you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“You were with Klavier.”

“What does it matter?”

“You’re pregnant Y/N. I can smell it. This is ridiculous!” Daryan punched the wall. It made a big hole. “You’re a werewolf, Y/N! He’s a vampire. What’s going to happen to this baby?”

“We’ll just have to see.” Y/N cradled her stomach protectively.

“What is going on here?” She heard Klavier snarl from behind her. He wrapped a shoulder over her arms protectively.

“He’s worried our child is going to be a vampire.”

“He is not going to be a vampire. Our son will be a normal human.”

“What?” Y/N asked, “how do you know?”

“Because I am also a demon. I keep it a secret.” Klavier explained, “the demon in me will neutralize any quality in this child. Is that ok with you?”

“Yes. It is ok.”

Daryan punched the wall again, upset he lost his secret love forever. He punched the wall so hard he fractured his hand, and lay dying from the blood loss.

Klavier snapped his fingers, and two vampires came to take Daryan to the infirmary.

“Will he make it?” Y/N asked, concerned.

“Only time will tell, Y/N. The blood loss was extensive. (A/N: I’ve been to crime scenes so I know about extensive blood loss)

“What should we do while we wait?” Y/N put her hands over her growing belly again.

“We will lead our clans together. Your parents died shortly after you left. You are the leader of your clan now.”

Y/N was sad, but knew her responsibility as new pack leader. Her blue/pink eyes shined bright with hope for the future. For their child. For each other.

(A/N: Hope you all liked it! My cousin told me I should start writing!! So I started with my favorite band, The Gavinners!)

~~

Pearl Fey signed out of her account on the public library computer, packed up her belongings, and started walking back to the train station. She felt extremely satisfied with her work today, and thought a lot of people were going to like it.

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

The Devil and the Mermaid - Chapter Four (Lucifer x Mermaid!Reader)

Author’s Note: The inspiration here came from a dream of mine, also one of my favorite shows “The Legend of the Blue Sea” has some heavy inspiration in here as well. Thank you so much for the support of the series! I will also create a tag list for this story since I saw people interested in that. Again I love reading your guys’ comments and if you want to be part of a tag list for this series please let me know :)

Warnings: None, maybe mild violence? (You shove a guy out of the way)

Taglist: @th3gl1tt3rgam3roff1c1al, @magnet-girl, @roxytheimmortal​

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You were covered in darkness, but you were adjusted to the darkness, you lived in the dark with your clan who usually swims in the parts of the ocean where the light just barely touched your skin. 

However instead of the comforting warmth and assurance, you had when you were a woman swimming with your clan, your family, it was a lingering warmth and a reassurance that had made you realize you were dreaming and not of your memories. 

“(Y/N) you have met an interesting fate having fallen for Lucifer,” a voice echoed around you. You looked around in the dark space to search for the voice but found no answer to that.

“I would not have known of your existence if you hadn’t gone out of that water, it’s strange what this world has created once I left it.”

“Are you the moon? What do you mean by that? All I know is what I have been taught and seen when I was in the ocean”

“You could say I am the moon, but I am more than that and also less than that at the same time. I affect the world around me indirectly but you have caused quite a stir where I am at with your involvement with Lucifer, I wish you the best of luck and the best of health.”

With that, you were startled from your sleep by pressure on your shoulder, and you opened your eyes to see Lucifer smiling at you. Once he saw you were awake he went to say, “Good morning my dear, have a good dream?”

“Funny you should mention that, I heard a voice say that they were the moon, I think anyway. I don’t quite remember what they said but I remember your name,” you say as you start sitting up from the bed.

Lucifer sat down next to you as he took in what you said, humming in thought, he turned to you and patted your shoulder.

“Well the only one I know that could do that, would be my Dad, but I don’t know why he would want to talk to you.”

After a couple of days, you have gotten well versed with different aspects of human life and culture, mainly you are not allowed to eat spaghetti with your hands. You also have gotten interested in the tv that had got you basically hooked on the subtleties of different subsets of human culture, one being that if bad men are about to hurt you you can beat them up.

“Anyway, darling remember when I was talking to you about my consulting job for the police?”

You nodded remembering the different stories of his workplace along with his partner, Chloe. She seemed weird but nice from what you heard from him. 

“Well, I have to go in today there is a case that the police department says they need my help with,” Lucifer continued, “and I want you to come with me.”

“I would like to, is it going to be like what I saw on tv with how they deal with violence?” you asked.

“Kind of, it depends, now love let’s get you ready for the day and we can get going.”

--------------------------------------------------

You and Lucifer walked into a one-story house it looks plain and forgettable with its beige outside paint and white shingled roof. There were also some beautiful hydrangea bushes in the front, and you noticed them because they were the only splash of color in the whole property. There were police officers around the property and you saw one documenting the bushes. You tilt your head as you were stalling to enter the house and saw footprints underneath the bushes. 

“(Y/N) are you okay? Come on,” Lucifer urged on. He leads you into the home, and you immediately see the crime scene.

 It was an execution. Plain and simple. The victim was a young woman from what you saw, and she was shot point-blank in the back of the head as she was sitting on her couch, she probably knew the killer, since the tv was still on. 

The aquarium was direct across from the living room, and you saw the fish in there was trying to get your attention. You can hear the voices of the fish repeatedly crying out, “He hurt her! Help her! He was her friend” You looked at the aquarium and the fishes seem to surround you as they try to talk to you through the glass. ‘Can you show me what he looked like,’ you broadcasted to the fish. 

Lucifer was looking at you confused at what you were doing and was about to talk to you when he got interrupted.

“Oh no, you did not bring a civilian to a crime scene” you hear a voice coming towards you. 

“Ah detective, how good to see you again, and this is (Y/N) she is my assistant and friend,” Lucifer says. 

You turn your head away from the aquarium and saw a stressed blonde woman coming towards you, and you realized that this must be Chloe Decker. She tilted her head with furrowed brows and a hand to her hip as she eyes you. 

“Why would you need an assistant?” Decker questioned.

“You know there are always things that I could miss out on while we’re out here and plus don’t you want someone who can put me in line and in order for once?” Lucifer replied.

“That’ll be the day,” Decker snorted.

You tugged on the jacket sleeve on Lucifer to get his attention to you, and he leaned for you to whisper to tell him the thoughts and profile the fish given to you about the person who committed the murder.

“Oh that’s brilliant, darling, see Detective my assistant just gave us a solid lead to go off of. We have a suspect!” Lucifer exclaimed as he grabs your hand and leads you out of the crime scene.

“Wait a minute can you tell me what means?” Decker ran off to you two.

---------------------------------------------

So the three of you ended up at an apartment building on the opposite side of Los Angeles waiting to interview the suspect that the fish had identified to you at the victim’s home. 

Lucifer ended up filling into Decker that you had deduced based on the footprints outside the house and the way she was killed, it was someone she knew intimately enough to let the person in without a second glance. You just confirmed that for him with the description of the man the fish saw kill their owner, Blaire Wright. He also found that there was a single picture of him and the victim together faced down so he connected the dots to realize that the relationship must’ve turned to an obsession for the man and had gone possessive over the woman. The old “if I can’t have her nobody can” cliche, which made Lucifer quite bored about that trope but you can’t always choose what happens in your cases. 

You all made your way to the apartment building, Decker went to find out from the landlord about the suspect and you and Lucifer were ordered to stay out in the parking lot. You spotted the man that matched the description the fish gave you and the picture Lucifer showed to verify it. His name was Oscar Grant, and he’s suspected to have developed an obsessive behavior over Ns. Wright … and he was heading your way.

Lucifer seemed to be aware of it as he straightened himself and walked over to where the man was walking into the parking lot. 

You felt a strange sensation of being submerged in the water again, you felt heavy and light all at the same time. You couldn’t hear what the two were saying, but you felt the danger and sensation of a cornered animal, and that’s when you felt that you had to move. So you did. Grant pulled a gun but as soon as he did you grabbed his forearm and threw him towards the dumpsters that were ten feet away from him. You may have used a bit too much of your strength. There was now a new dent behind Grant that there wasn’t there before and a shocked looking Lucifer next to you and staring at the gun in between you and the culprit.

You heard Decker walking behind you and you heard her go with a bewildered voice, “How in the-?”

When he came to a few seconds later, he was given his rights by Decker and placed in the back of her car off the police department. While you were walking up to you and Lucifer’s ride you felt a lingering gaze on your back throughout that entire encounter. You just shook your head in an attempt to get rid of that feeling. 

Later on, Oscar Grant ended up confessing to both the attempted murder of you and Lucifer and the murder of Blaire Wright. Decker relented upon the idea of Lucifer bringing you to cases because you ended up being a pretty good asset. 

------------------------------------

Now you were back at Lucifer’s penthouse and you were in pajamas lounging around the bar area in his place. Lucifer was down at the LUX club area taking care of some business that he needed to get done as he told you. 

There was a small pool that he had in his apartment which you found, and you can hear the call of the water no matter its state. So you took off your clothes and went in the pool, your tail and scales came as soon as you were submerged and your whole body was singing with happiness as it felt alive again. 

The more you spend on land without the return of the love that you came out of the water for, your heart will stop beating unless you step back in the ocean. You forgot to tell Lucifer about that specific part of the deal of you coming on land because you didn’t want him to feel the pressure of returning a love that might not be real, to begin with. 

You begin to worry about what might happen if he found out you didn’t tell him the whole truth of your situation to him. You didn’t want him to concerned for your fate, because you never know what might happen there might be a happy ending for you both.

As you were swimming in the small pool brooding in your thoughts you heard the elevator ping, so you peaked your head over the corner of the pool. When you just saw it was Lucifer and no one else you let yourself be seen by him.

“Well hello there, I see you have found my pool then?” Lucifer greeted you. You beamed at him and nodded fervently at that.

“Y’know I never actually saw you as your original mermaid self? Is it alright if I watch you swim?”

“Um sure if you want to, I’m not the most beautiful, there are others in just my clan that have amazing scales and tail fin,” you state.

“Let me be the judge of that, love-” he cut himself off with a mouth agape look as he marveled at your full beauty.

Your tail was massive and the scales decorating and protecting your body were glittering with a rainbow of colors complementing your skin tone. It made you look heavenly and the flowing tail at the end made you look that way even more so.

You became self-conscious at the way Lucifer was just staring at you, so became to fidget under his heavy gaze in the water.

Then he spoke gently, “You are beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Thank you for letting me see your true self like this.”

“Thank you Lucifer, that means a lot to me.”

The brooding can wait, you have time to be hopeful and to think about that happy ending.

[writingwithacupoftea]

Comfort Blanket

Summary: It is up to Tommy and Y/N Shelby to keep the family together after their Mother’s death. They discover along the way that sometimes a comfort blanket is an object and other times it’s a feeling...

Word Count: 1891

Prompt: “There’s no place for us to sleep at night.” (part of @smallheathgangsters​ 1k followers party 💜)

A/N: This ended up being way more festive than I anticipated but, hey ho, it’s less than 3 month til Christmas now! I’ve also definitely taken some liberties with the whole pre-series story and ages and stuff but oh well. I’ve wanted to write a piece based on the blanket in this gif for a while now, so this prompt just worked perfectly for it! 

Congratulations again, Leah, on the 1k milestone - it’s so well deserved, and here's to 1k more 🥳 I hope you and everyone else enjoys my little contribution to the celebration ❤️

(gif by @nofckingfighting​)

The Shelby clan had never known darker times than the months following their mother's death.

Their father was more absent than ever before. Arthur Shelby Junior was still hopelessly trailing around after him. John had fled to Martha's house, seeking comfort in her arms. Ada was distraught, and everyone had given up trying to guess what her next move would be, for entering her teenage years had made her even more unpredictable than ever anyway. Between looking after Finn and working as much as her brother would allow, Polly was permanently exhausted.

Tommy felt like he was drowning alongside his mother, burdened with the responsibility of trying to look after his family as best he could whilst grieving.

That left Y/N. Born just a year after Tommy, she was the one he turned to when he needed a break. Whether it was to cry and mourn the loss of his beloved mother, or taking charge when all Tommy wanted to do was sleep after a long day's work, Y/N was always there. She picked up the pieces for all of her siblings, and was the oil that kept the cogs of the machine turning.

One night, Tommy and Y/N found themselves alone in the parlour, relishing in the moments of quiet that had fallen after the rest of the family had gone to bed. It was at these times that the pair confided in each other, whether it was their own news or that of their siblings.

Tonight, so far, they had sat in silence. But Y/N knew that Tommy would tell her something soon, and also knew that Tommy would be able to sense that she had something to tell him. It was all a matter of who would speak first.

"I don't know what to do, Y/N/N." Tommy had taken the leap this time.

"Don't know what to do about what?" Her brother's confession had surprised Y/N: Tommy always had a plan for everything.

"I'm doing everything I can to provide for us all and it's still not enough, even though I've taken every fucking job I can find. The lock on the door is still broken from when Dad came home drunk the other night, and the window next to Finn's nursery hasn't been mended yet from when John accidentally smashed it with his ball. Polly's had to take all of the spare blankets for him so that he doesn't get sick. We can't afford to buy any more. There's no place for us to sleep at night. Not somewhere that's safe and warm, anyway."

Y/N sighed. "First of all, Tom, and this is important, so you'd better fucking pay attention to me." Y/N was pleased to see that he let out a slight laugh at that. "You're doing an amazing job at all of this. We're all so grateful for everything you're doing, even if I'm the only one that will actually say it out loud. We couldn't ask any more of you, Tommy.

"Secondly, I may be able to help you – now, don't get mad!" Y/N added this last part hurriedly, having seen Tommy's eyebrows quickly shoot up. Taking a deep breath, Y/N broke the news. "Harry has given me a job...as a barmaid in the Garrison."

"What?!" Tommy jumped out of his seat, looking down at Y/N in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? If you think I'm going to let you work there with all those drunk idiots every night, then you'd better think again."

"If you think you can tell me what I can and can't do, then you'd fucking better think again, Thomas," Y/N retorted, as her brother began to pace up and down the room. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm an adult now and can make my own decisions. Anyway, I've worked everything out and I have a plan to put to you."

Tommy sat down again, not taking his eyes off his younger sister.  

"You're working yourself into the ground, Tommy, and quite frankly we can't afford for you to be ill, so you need to get some more rest." The man in question opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off immediately by Y/N. "I want you to give up a couple of your jobs – some of them only pay a pittance, whilst my wage alone would cover that and a little more. I want you to put more time and energy into building up our Dad's business. I've got this feeling that it could become so much more, and you're the one that will make it happen, Tommy, I just know it!"

The second eldest Shelby brother sighed, his head falling heavily into his hands. He had to admit, Y/N's plan sounded incredibly tempting. But still, doubts invaded his thoughts, namely his concerns over his sister working in the Garrison of all places and the question of what if it all failed? What if they ended up in a worse position than they were in now?  

With two words from Y/N, however, he was convinced: "Trust me."

"Fine. We'll give it a go on one condition – if any of those fuckers at the pub ever, and I mean ever, give you any bother whatsoever, you tell me straight away. Alright?"

Y/N smiled softly at her brother, pleased with the outcome of their conversation. "Alright," she whispered in agreement, reaching over to grab his hand.

"Thank you, Y/N." Tommy's voice broke through the silence, his sincerity as clear as day.

"We're going to be alright, Tom. One day, we won't have to worry about everyone being safe and warm in their beds. It might take some time, but we'll get there eventually."

Tommy nodded, almost imperceptibly, before slowly getting up to make his way to his own bed, only stopping to place a gentle kiss to his sister's forehead.

All they could do now was pray that Y/N would be right once again.

***

About a year later, their prayers were beginning to be answered.

Business at the betting shop was flourishing, and the Shelby's were gaining more respect by the day. It was all illegal, of course, but all that mattered to Tommy and Y/N was that enough money was rolling in to look after the family.

As Christmas drew nearer, their house was beginning to feel more like a home again for the first time since their mother passed. Fires roared in the hearth at night, they had finally been able to make the repairs that the house so desperately needed, and the family seemed to be happy.  

The future looked brighter for the Shelby clan, and it was a sight that Y/N was overjoyed to have before her. Her plan had worked, the dark circles beneath Tommy's eyes were melting away and her Christmas present for him was finally ready.

Despite Tommy's arguments that she didn't need to stay on at the Garrison anymore, Y/N had decided to keep her job there. Surprisingly, she'd discovered that she was rather good at bar work and had been immensely satisfied when her brothers had entered the pub on one of their 'check-ups' on her to witness her chucking a couple of drunks out onto the street by the scruffs of their neck. Y/N liked earning her own money, rather than relying on Tommy, and it meant that no questions were asked about how she was spending it.

Most of her wages had gone towards Tommy's present, and Y/N could only hope that he liked it. The closer and closer that it got to the big day, the more Y/N began to doubt it. But she'd put too much work into it to turn back now.

She had decided against leaving it under the tree, not wanting anyone to be ridiculed for it, and instead kept it a secret in her room. So, on the night of the 25th, Y/N padded down the stairs to meet Tommy alone in the parlour.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now." Tommy was smiling up at her from his seat on the sofa.

"You know I'm always too excited at Christmas to get much sleep." Her brother rolled his eyes fondly at Y/N's reminder. "Anyway, I have one more present to give out."

Tommy's brows furrowed in confusion. "But we all opened your presents earlier, Y/N/N?"

"Yes, yes, I know – you don't need to make this any more embarrassing for me than it already is!."

The man in question chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

Y/N sat down next to her brother, and handed him the carefully wrapped package. "Happy Christmas, Tommy," she said, gently. As he began to open it, Y/N's nervous rambling automatically began. "Now, if you don't like it, just tell me. I won't be offended! I can find something else to do with it. It's not really your colours, now I think about it, and - "

"Y/N do you want me to open this or not?" Tommy snapped, but his eyes were full of fondness for his younger sister.

"Yes," Y/N replied, meekly.

Tommy pulled away the last of the wrapping to find a thick patchwork blanket, which was clearly handmade. Speechless at the thought and care put into the gift, he asked the only question that was running through his head:  "Why?"

"I wanted to give you something special to say thank you for everything you've done for us since Mum died. Also, I'm not stupid, you know." At Tommy's confused expression, Y/N elaborated. "Nearly every morning before we got the house fixed up, I used to wake up with double the amount of blankets on top of me compared to how many I went to bed with. Your blankets, Tommy, when we barely had enough to share between us all in the first place. So I wanted to make you one myself that is yours and yours alone.

"You said to me once that we had nowhere to sleep at night that was safe and warm, but you created that place for us, for me. I know we've got plenty of blankets in the house now, but I just wanted to try and give you that same feeling of comfort that you gave to me." She stopped talking at that, suddenly aware of how long she had been going on for.

Tommy held the warm fabric in his hands, his thumb tracing the messy stitching which held each patch together, trying to blink away the tears glazing his eyes. "I love it, sweetheart. Thank you."

A relieved smile lit Y/N's face, but it was quickly replaced by a loud yawn. She gently rested her head on Tommy's shoulder as she curled her legs up on the sofa, and he wrapped his arm around her.

"Happy Christmas, Tom," Y/N mumbled sleepily.

"Happy Christmas, Y/N/N," Tommy replied with a smile.

Moments later, Y/N's breathing had evened out and she had fallen into a deep slumber. Tommy's eyes flitted between her sleeping form and the beautiful blanket on his knee.

Maybe he could share his blanket with his sister just one more time...

[hypnomicimagines]

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.  

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

[felassan]

Thoughts on Dark Fortress #3

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

There’s a lot I thought/wanna say about this final issue, to the point that it’s hard to know where to start!

The cover art is.. beautiful. The symbolic allusion between Shirallas and the dragon (his draconic-y claws, the semblance of a broken collar falling off in the same way, the fire) 👌 On the whole, lined up side-by-side the three covers of Dark Fortress feel really thematically cohesive. Shirallas’ and the dragon’s claws echo Tractus’ sharp metal gauntlet, and as well as the similarities between the dragon and Shirallas, both Tractus and the dragon have a circle of weapons, and the patterning encircles Tractus’ neck and wrists like the collars and shackles. Y’know, like you can just really tell the cover artist planned ahead and put a lot of thought into how the 3 cover arts would ‘flow’ from one to the other, blending elements between them.

I posted some of my fav panels here.

I knew he was my boy but Shirallas’ backstory broke my heart ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) the first panel is so bleak and heart-wrenching. the burning aravel parts.. another Dalish clan met a terrible fate.

I wonder if his clan wandered Tevinter like Clan Oranavra? it makes me wonder if Shirallas and Fenris met in Tevinter. It’s nice to see that another clan took him in. And if Shirallas is a name he took, not his original name, I assume it has a special meaning, maybe to do with his quest for justice/vengeance. Shiral means journey, “allas” is found in vallas, which means set, as in the sun. The “vallas” in vallasdahlen (life-trees, planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dales) means life. in many ways the sun and life are the same thing, and there’s the obvious connection to Elgar’nan, eldest of the sun. So journey/quest - sun/life? Like since the loss of his clan he’s on a journey/quest for the rest of his life to get justice/vengeance, which are attributes of the sun god Elgar’nan? that became his life’s purpose and his direction of ‘travel’ ever since his loss, what he dedicated his life to since then. :’( 

Elgara vallas, da'len. ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

This is our first look at the vallaslin application process, no? what Shirallas is saying in this panel is the Song to Elgar’nan. it’s interesting, in that that prayer kind of resembles what happened, or almost happened, in this issue. a fortress shaken, fire, winged death (a dragon), pretenders to power, “strike the usurpers” (“Red Wraith, dispose of my enemies, kill the traitorous mage”). pretty cool right?

⬇️ me two months ago, look at the tags in red brackets. 

oh my son.. Dalish father roams, and the Dalish son won’t survive the fight   ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

the panel where Fenris and Shirallas shake hands ;; to which experience is Fenris speaking of, I wonder? once upon a time he saw Anders almost lose himself in his own quest for Justice/Vengeance for the mages.

Parallels between Shirallas succeeding in proving himself to Nenealeus and when Fenris succeeded in proving himself to Danarius all those years ago - compare. ;__; an elf surrounded by bodies of people he’d killed to prove himself, and a horrible Magister telling him “well done”.

I love the design of the sword and its use as a ‘divider’ on the first page splitting up the panels is both smart and beautiful. even here there’s pink light around it, the dragon’s fire

overall I wasn’t expecting this issue to begin with flashbacks to Shirallas’ past and backstory, so this whole page caught me off-guard

omg look at the red lyrium ‘veins’ under Shirallas’ skin. when he emerges from the sarcophagus that is a very cool picture of his face

Nenealeus has been taking beard-styling advice/trends from the dwarves

check out the sword crackling and reforming as Shirallas makes contact with it. is the red lyrium under his skin moving in this scene?

in the panel of Vaea running away from the dragon, it’s nice that as she runs Fenris is still behind facing the dragon, to protect her

gorgeous background in the panel with Marquette, and his expression is one of Regret for what he just did and for his part in all this. the dawning realization that I’ve Fucked Up Big Time

as Nenealeus’ weapon is a sword, does he have some Knight Enchanter-adjacent skills (I don’t expect the actual KE artform is exclusive to southern Circles only)? it’s a physical item ofc, not a summoned one. staffs are infused with lyrium to provide a conduit for a mage’s power. so then, mages can channel power through other [presumably similarly-infused] weapons too, not just mage staves/staff-like magic implements or their bare hands

given the color of Nenealeus’ magic and the fact that the dragon was under the control of his magic, it now makes sense to me why the dragon’s fire is that color! o:

Marius is badass (nice touch that his shoulder is smoking pink with the effects of one of Nenealeus’ magic attacks here) and the four panels where everyone’s grim and determined, facing off against each other and Venatori goons made me feel quite emotional. Aaron is Team Dad.. it’s nice to see him having a friendship / paternal moment with Francesca both acknowledging her pain and power while also giving her a pep talk. You can tell when he says too “We all need to do whatever we can in this moment” that he’s talking about himself too and may already be thinking one or some of them aren’t going to make it out of there

Francesca GO OFF!! she’s so powerful, and it’s really cool every time seeing her plant magic in action. it puts in perspective how powerful Velanna would have been with her similar skills (skills like Thornblades), and I enjoy the contrast of the fire in the background and the blue/green of Fran’s magic in action

Fenris is so cool-headed in high-octane combat situations, quickly taking stock, assessing and realizing the odds then coming up with a plan. the look on Vaea’s face when she’s like >:( wtf u can’t just leave is cute

cool pulled-back bird’s eye shot of the Fortress

Karasten continuing with the sass about Tevinter even during a siege

Fenris speaking Qunlat! I love that they brought this lore fact into play and had him make use of this skill, it’s a neat reminder of Fenris’ exchange with the Arishok if you take him into the compound in DA2. in the opening-up the gates scene, Vaea’s worried about letting the Qunari in and going to the Qunari (from her expression), but she trusts Fenris and his judgement enough to open the gate and see what happens

I like that Tessa’s bolts are fletched the blue of her accent color

chills at the panel where Shirallas is walking out of the flames advancing on Aaron. Ser Aaron, who never retreats, not at Ostagar, not now ;__;

the battle-scenes are beautiful, fast-paced and gory, chaotic and colorful, like it would feel to be there 

Fenris then puts himself between Aaron and Shirallas. I could hear “I will deal with this Red Wraith” in my head

Autumn can look so scary. a true mabari warrior! when she leapt towards Shirallas I was Stressed for her safety despite knowing rationally that they wouldn’t kill their dog!

the horizontal combat splash page is awesome

CLEVER GIRL Autumn. she and Fenris are in sync in this sequence.

Shirallas serving super saiyan vibes with the bulk, strength, hair

Fenris bargaining for Fran’s life and then trusting her to use her magic as part of the attack on the Red Wraith

lmao Ser Aaron

smart thinking Fran

Aaron praising her ;__;

Marius was straight-up prepared to die to stop Nenealeus ;__; poor Tessa in this exchange

the face-melting scene  👌

“Ah, Marius... I knew it would come down to the two of us”: this panel is just really cool? Nenealeus looks almost congenial here, which makes him seem all the more colder and more dangerous. and the burning bodies strongly remind me of the bodies at the start of Inquisition which are at the ‘blast point’ of the Breach at the Conclave

when Marius and Vaea’s eyes meet and they formulate the backup plan  👌

nice to see ‘staff’-less magic in action. Nenealeus is clearly a very powerful mage. when he’s frying Marius he has Star Wars Palpatine and force lightning vibes

OH VAEA... you did it, but my heart hurts that she had to kill someone for the first time, even though it was foreshadowed by her discussion with Marius in a earlier issue. & Nenealeus’ look of surprise as he dies says it all

it’s a serious moment but Marius now looks like a cat that stuck its paw in a socket hh

when Nenealeus is doubled over dead, it’s a great panel- the white background taking us out of the chaos that’s going on all-around for just a moment, showing the seriousness of what’s just transpired for Vaea and the realization of it setting in. a pause, the shock. & it’s nice to see Marius being soft with someone other than Calpernia or Tessa

but despite what’s just happened Vaea is still Vaea, she’s concerned about life and immediately wants to save the dragon. I like the part where panels of Vaea and Fran ‘face’ each other as they have this discussion, a lot.

in the moment that it takes off, does the dragon realize Vaea is responsible for saving its life? the ‘eye’ panel feels like an acknowledgement from it, or between the two

Fran’s magic destroying and sinking the sarcophagus into the ground reminds me of what in-world lore says happened to Arlathan, in a way

omg they have to stop Shirallas before he gets over 9000

do you think when Aaron says “We cannot retreat” he’s thinking of Loghain’s retreat at Ostagar?

at this point btw I’m pleasantly surprised that Marius survives, I had sort of expected him to die in this issue

oh Marquette, curiosity killed the cat dontcha know

new lore just dropped: the Red Wraith is able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword have a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

Paragon Branka reference! and later on a Black Marsh reference

:’( As soon as Aaron launched into his story at this point my stress levels went through the roof and I knew it was Time. and then - well. you know :’((( Aaron had death flags in previous issues, so I was logically prepared and not surprised by the occurrence (this isn’t a bad thing btw), but I still wasn’t EMOTIONALLY PREPARED

mfw

nooooooooo.... It was at this point everyone that I burst into tears.. i have never Ugly Cried at a comic before so that was a new experience.. It’s hard to put my feelings about this into words bc rly it just straight-up destroyed me, u know.. Vaea’s “Don’t leave me”, Aaron’s tears when he knows the deed is done, his pendant.. surely the resemblance between the way he looks on this cover and the way he looks in the panel when he’s falling and Vaea is shouting “Aaron!” is intentional. i’m just destroyed okay

On the next page, holes in Shirallas’ shirt where his wounds were before they healed is a nice touch. Autumn’s bite here must surely be shattering the bone in his lower leg. then as if i wasn’t in enough pain already - being separated from the weapon, did that bring Shirallas back to himself for a while? His “Friend?” and the look in his eyes when he looks up at Fenris is so pitiful :’( for a moment just before the end he’s the boy in the wood surrounded by his burning clan again. RIP Shirallas son, we barely knew ye but I loved u :’(((

Having Marquette escape is a smart choice, it means there’s someone still kicking around Thedas who knows what happened here and what went down. maybe we seek him out in the next game when trying to follow up on the plot-thread of the idol/red lyrium/its capabilities/Venatori/Qunari? anyway, can’t help but admire, in a fashion anyway, someone who dips out to save their own skin, and his attempted grift when he’s talking to Tractus x)

we hadn’t seen the last of Tractus indeed. there he is! “This is me, crying over our loss” - he’s such an edgy boi

THE IDOL

“Oh, you mean this idol?” feels like they’re breaking the fourth wall and deliberately teasing us x)

when Fenris says “[stay clear of it] Red lyrium can do things with your mind” I wonder if he’s thinking of his experiences with things like Bartrand and Meredith

started to cry again at the final Aaron scenes ok.. when it pans back to Vaea and Autumn on the shore with the dying Aaron, they look so small and lonely set against the backdrop of the gray rock, windy shore, jagged outcrops. it’s a beautifully poignant and incredibly forlorn backdrop for this scene. Autumn in these panels, and again the parallel between Aaron lying here and him on that cover page.. ;; the whole scene is raw and gutwrenching. even in death Aaron was thinking about Vaea, apologizing that she had to take a life, outlining his hopes that she continues to have a positive future and doesn’t descend into any kind of darkness. the fact that all this time he’s carried around a letter addressed to King Alistair in his pocket, to recommend that Vaea be knighted, the fact that he’s crying too, the pendant, the tenderness between them, how proud Aaron is of Vaea, the fact that he goes out telling a story and smiling because he’s so proud of her, here at the end Aaron is filled with pride and looks at peace.. i can’t ( ok i cried again on this re-read when writing this post, Dad Stuff is the ultimate way to get me ok.. don’t look at me _(°:з」∠)_ )

Vaea IS more than worthy. I’m so glad someone recognizes that and sees it in her. King Alistair WOULD knight her, and there’s a beautiful poetry in that fact as the son of an elf. there’s also something poetic in that, if Vaea becomes the first elven knight of Ferelden, well it echoes the Emerald Knights of old in a way. that’s beautiful. I’m very proud of Vaea.

Here we see another parallel - when Francesca is comforting a crying Vaea as her father figure passes away, it directly echoes when Vaea comforted Francesca when she was crying after her own father died. 

Aaron’s hometown of Portsmouth is a real place in England

I’m happy to see Fran and Autumn continuing to travel with Vaea, and Fenris continuing to keep his promise to Aaron to keep Vaea safe, and that Cassé is now Fran’s horse (that’s a lovely touch considering she healed him in Blue Wraith, a full-circle moment)

Fenris is right, they were family. soft supportive Fenris, with emotional intelligence ;; (and he of all people knows about Found Family)

the last panel of Vaea crying is beautiful too, the sun is rising in the east after the terrible night they’ve had, and the ‘faded’ rectangles is a great style/composition choice

even Cassé the horse looks sad

the scene of Fran and Vaea riding double with Fenris smiling in the background is super cute, and I love that the last we see of the party is them honoring Ser Aaron by telling stories like he did, of his exploits. I hope they always tell stories of Ser Aaron ;;

I’m glad Tessa made it out okay, she’ll be able to return to Charter. 💜 I was a bit worried this wouldn’t be the case

the last page DBKGRRGRKRKGREKF 

Pour one out for Ser Aaron Hawthorne of Portsmouth, Knight of Ferelden.

---

A recap on wider plot-points

The Qunari Antaam have taken control of Castellum Tenebris, and Neromenian has fallen to their advance.

The sarcophagus is broken and has been buried deep in the ground. Francesca asserts that it won’t be found.

The Inquisition agents retrieved the broken shards of the weapon, and are going to take its remains to the shadow Inquisition.

Tractus Danarius is alive and in possession of the idol, or was at the timepoint of this comic. He wants to use it to impress the Venatori remnants so that he can rejoin them. Marquette thinks, or said that he thinks (could easily be a bluff or his lack of knowledge about it compared to someone like Solas), that it doesn’t work anymore. (I’m leaning towards it does still work, otherwise why would Solas be interested in it?)

Solas, in what looks kinda like his most recent DA4 trailer gear, was watching the events of this series/arc the whole time and knows what happened. He knows Tractus has the idol. None of the people in this comic plot are “People Solas doesn’t know”. And it seems that he is able to use eluvians to watch people.

There’s a chance that Tractus Danarius is the mage in Tevinter Nights, from Dread Wolf Take You - the mage from House Danarius who went with some slaves to Nevarra to use the idol to perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi. That mage wanted to change the world to help fight the Antaam’s invasion. In the tale at least, he used the idol, a rift opened, the Dread Wolf popped out and killed him. At the time of that ritual the idol was still working.

+ some new lore -

the Red Wraith was able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword the idol created had a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

eluvians can be used to watch people. not just to communicate over long distances or as portals between places

Lastly I don’t know what to do with myself anymore as this is the end of a long-running DA arc and was the final piece of [currently-known about] new canon Dragon Age content that we’ll get.

[animeyanderelover]

I'd love to see Hashirama with prompt 74. “As long as you love me everything is alright. You…you do love me, right?”

👍.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, delusions, clinginess, angsty stuff

Prompt 74: “As long as you love me everything is alright. You...you do love me, right?”

You remembered that there had been often times where you had wished that Hashirama would just calm down since he was often a lot to deal with. He was always so clingy and the amount of affection he gave you was nearly suffocating, not to mention that you hadn’t forgotten the incident with your clothes. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem in here. No, that all was terrible too, but could be ended by a breakup. And that was the worst in here. Leaving him would be as good as impossible. Not only was there the danger of the whole village being disappointed in you as well as having his furious little bro in your neck, but Hashirama himself could possess quite the threat. He was Hokage. He had power. He could ruin you and your family’s life if he felt like and even get away with it. As much as Hashirama was a sunshine and almost a bit like a child, you had catched up onto one thing at some point into this relationship. Hashirama had a dark side to him. Everyone had, you knew that. You had one as well. But it became dangerous when this dark side was able to ruin someone else like Hashirama was. Luckily he didn’t let this side out very often, it was rarely seen because around you he was always the loving and smothering husband. But that made it also so much more terrifying if this side of him came out. Because it was almost like witnessing a nightmare in real life when seeing this man getting serious and mad.

But you had never seen him like this. He seemed so...so discouraged. So hopeless. So small. You had expected that he would be depressed after Madara had left the village, the man he had considered as his best friend. The man who he had happily introduced you to, the man who he had always stood up for, the man who had betrayed him and had attacked him. You couldn’t even image how hard this must have been for him. And the comments from Tobirama hadn’t really helped at all. He had just scolded him that he should have listened to him before and that he had been right after all about Madara. You and Mito had to literally hit him on his head to snap him out of his lecturing speech and help him realize how devastated Hashirama had looked. You had often seen him sulking about something or being depressed over more childish things. But this had only lasted for a short while, not concerning you too much at the end of the day. He had always been able to get over those small things very quickly and go back to his more goofy self. And that was the thing that had you currently worry the most. He hadn’t gone back to his old self. Instead he had been those last few days after the incident more quiet and thoughtful than usual, causing you to worry yourself almost sick over him. But the most heartbreaking thing you had witnessed so far was how needy he had suddenly gotten. It wasn’t the usual clingyness, it was almost like a desperation, a desire to know that you wouldn’t leave him like his friend had.

“Hey Hashi. What’s wrong?” Hashirama turned slightly surprised, slightly tired around when hearing your soft voice calling him. It was early morning, the sky still dark and most people would have still payed soundly asleep in bed. But not you two. When his gaze met yours he gave you a small smile. But it didn’t look like the ones he usually gave you. Of course there was still warmth and eternal love in it, but he also looked exhausted as well as if he was in pain. “Oh. Hey, darling. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. Go back to bed, it’s still pretty early.” You didn’t move, instead glancing with eyes filled with sadness at him. He looked so incredibly vulnerable as hunched over as he was sitting on the couch. Where was the once so energetic and always happy guy who you had so often a day called a moron because he had done something stupid? Where had that man gone? And when would he come back? You couldn’t just let him sit here and let him drown in self sorrow. You had to do at least try to do something for him. He had done so much for you too. So you slowly made your way over to the couch, slowly sitting down next to him. He didn’t react, instead staring with a hollow yet also sorrowful look in his eyes in the space, telling you what he was seeing right now before his inner eye could only be seen by him. You felt a small “pang” in your chest when seeing him spacing out like this, his eyes having lost the light they used to always have inside of them. How could you have ever thought of his personality as annoying and too much? Had you ever even considered that this might have been the reason why he had been even able to reach the position he was currently in right now? He had worked more than anybody else to establish the village and make peace with the other villages. His sometimes almost careless and easygoing looking attitude had given people always courage and hope.

But now he looked so broken, like a small child who needed protection. Or just someone who would be there for you. And if this person had to be you then you would damn well do it. Everything to get him out of his misery, the whole atmosphere in the village had already started to change and became more gloomy due to their leader being on his knees. You sighed worriedly, laying your hand on top of his. Hashirama didn’t look at you, but was quick to grab your hand and intervene his fingers with you, the pressure he put on your hand being only a bit too tight as if being scared that something might happen at the moment. “Hashirama,”, the tone you used reminded you of the one your mother used to use on you, strict yet gentle,”please look me in my eyes.” You had the feeling that he needed a moment or two before your words finally seemed to register in his brain and you almost thought that he wanted to avoid looking you in your face by the way he turned so incredibly slowly his head around to meet your gaze. He was ashamed, you could tell from the way he didn’t dare to look you in your eyes, always looking quickly down whenever he managed to look you for a short second in your eyes. You tried to give him some time to adjust, waiting patiently until he seemed to be a bit less tense than before.

“It’s not your fault, you know. I mean with Madara.” It wasn’t a very wise decision to mention his name like this, but you had to directly talk with Hashirama about this, even though he stiffened when hearing his name again. “No one blames you Hashi. Not the village, not your clan, not your brother nor Mito. And me neither. We all know you tried your best. The best might sometimes not be enough, but it’s the will that counts. You don’t need to be perfect or anything like this. It was Madara’s decision and you couldn’t have done anything to help him. I understand that it must be hard for you to live with the knowledge that your best friend turned against you and that you had to fight him. It’s a heavy burden on your soul and heart, but you aren’t alone with this. You have so many people in your life who are there for you. You just have to look out of the window and see the village, the people in there who are willing to help you. As harsh as it may sound, but you have to eventually let go of him. I don’t demand from you to erase those memories of of you and him together, but I ask you to accept that you couldn’t have done everything to stop him and to stop thinking that it’s all your fault. There are people who need you right now. So please stop being so sad and try to live with it. And if you aren’t strong enough to carry this on your own, I’m here for you just like your brother, Mito and so many more. Alright?”

Hashirama stared shocked at you, looking like he hadn’t expected you to say this. But only a short moment later the impact of what you had just said hit him. You had never seen him that emotional before which caused your heart to clench from sadness seeing him like this. You could see the visible hurt in his eyes, the feeling of not being able to do anything and prevent it from happening, the hurt of being betrayed from someone you had known for such a long time. The thing that made it even more bitter for you was that you also saw some of the emotions his eyes always used to hold for you when looking at you. The adoration and infinite love he used to have and still had for you. Together with his somewhat forced yet also thankful and sincere smile it let you feel an emotion that you couldn’t name, not knowing how to feel about the dualism of feelings displayed on his face. “As long as you love me everything is alright.” When saying this he suddenly crawled closer towards you, hugging your waist and laying his head on your lap. And you felt like your heart had just shattered in your chest, witnessing this complete action of utter desperation from his side. He had just come crawling to you like an insecure child needing comfort.

“You...you do love me, right?” You glanced down at him, looking at his eyes that begged you silently to tell him you did. What was this? Why was he doing this? Was he afraid that you would leave him too just like Madara did? Was that the reason why he was acting so needy right now? Did he need to hear that you loved him that badly? There were so many quest swirling around in your mind, but you put them all for the moment aside, focusing on the man clinging tightly onto your waist and tugging slightly on the fabric of your pajamas, wanting, needing you to answer his question. And how could you have said no to him when he was in such a fragile state like right now. “Of course I do, Hashi. I always will.”

[kindofinprogress]

What. A. Git.

Harry Potter fell in love at 18.

At least, that’s how old he was when he realized he was in love. He’d felt quite at home in this state so surely it must have happened when he wasn’t looking. Perhaps it happened when he was 16 and playing quidditch with her in the back garden of her home or later that year when an untamed amount of anger filled him at the sight of another boy near her in all the ways he’d wish he could be. Maybe it happened after their historic first kiss in front of 50 of their peers or the subsequent, equally as historic (although much more private), “walk” after said kiss. Maybe it was later, when he was 17, sometime in the nine grueling months he had to spend away from her- where all he could do was try and not think about how much he missed her. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that, right? Or, it could have happened the second, the very mind-clouding moment, that he got to hold her in his arms again after those nine months and the battle that ended the war in which he lost so much. But not her. She managed to come out on the other side and he couldn’t thank enough deities about it if he tried.

Whenever it was- he was sure he was fully, irrevocably, assuredly, enduringly, and all of the other painfully cliche words one could come up with, in love exactly one month after she left on a train for her last year of schooling.

Harry Potter was pitiful. That’s the word that Ron used, anyway. Well, if not being able to stand missing Ginny, his Ginny after the longest, grueling month of his life then that was fine. Alright, perhaps it was possible he’d had worse months so maybe he could tone down the dramatics. But, Harry rationalized, last year he had countless “worst” months- one right after the other in what at the time seemed like an endless string. And even back then he would have given up the world to be able to drop everything and get one good look at her. And he could do that now- quite easily and with a lot less at stake.

Read on AO3

It was after dinner at the Burrow where Harry sat in a room eating a delicious plate made by a stern and loving woman who’s laugh and annoyed tuts reminded him of his Ginny, sat next to a man with his Ginny’s wonderful curiosity, and surrounded by her brothers who had a mischievous edge to their jokes which only his Ginny could rival that he decided he would do just that. Drop everything and go see her- no matter how pathetic that made him in the eyes of his best mate.

Dinner was a more quiet affair these days. Spirits had livened up just enough at the end of September to where everyone could joke and ask each other about their days with genuine interest because they didn’t always end up back at sorrow-filled points but not enough that not at least one persons’ eyes welled up with tears by the end of the night. Or that someone had to excuse themselves when they almost mentioned Fred. But tonight, it wasn’t the collective longing for Fred to fill his seat at the dinner table or the mention of Teddy and the painful reminder that a 60-year-old woman and an 18-year-old man were now his main caretakers rather than his young and kind parents that created a knot in Harry’s throat. It was the mention of Ginny and the oh-how-busy-she-must-be fussing over her too-short letters home and her oh-so-important exams at the end of the year. After she came up Harry was in no mood to answer questions about his training, or if he and Ron would want the leftovers from tonights’ dinner, or to stay ‘round for after dinner drinks with the boys. Harry did stay, not from a lack of trying to leave though. Ron practically plucked him out of the floo and forced an ale into his palm. “Lighten up, we’ll see them at the end of October in Hogsmeade. No need to let a few miles soil our night.”

So, fine. Harry stayed and sulked over exactly one drink. He bid the clan of red-headed brothers goodnight while Ron went to the loo. Harry got home, put on his pajamas, washed his face and wrote a quick note to Ginny to meet him in the Shrieking Shack on the following night- October first. It was a Thursday and Harry figured it was too early in the year for any professors to be dishing out detentions to a castle full of grieving students and it wasn’t a special feast that night so the only thing that might get in his way would be Hermione’s time table.

The next morning, after about 5 more “you’re absolutely pitiful”’s from Ron, and a detailed description of exactly what he was to tell their training Auror his excuse for skiving off in the middle of a work week Harry set off for Hogwarts.

He arrived in town with enough time to stop by the Hog’s Head and grab dinner at the dusty bar and a quick conversation with the aloof Aberforth. The night’s air was well chilly as he made his way to the old, creaking shack and it wasn’t much better from inside. Harry made quick work to try and warm the place up with some charms but only managed to make it bearably stuffy before the door from the secret passage swung wide open and a red blur launched into his chest. Harry took in her flowery scent and dug his fingers into her hips bringing her as close as possible to him. Ginny looked up and met his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but bring his mouth to hers. The kiss was simple and all-consuming. It made his mind swirl. When he finally broke it and got a good look at her face he couldn’t help the soppy grin that overtook his features. It was so easy to let the world melt away and feel so happy with his Ginny around.

“Hey, you. You didn't just come all the way here to stare at me all night did you? We have pictures for that sort of thing you know.”

“Sorry.” He blurted. “No, that’s not what I came for. But it is quite fun. Be quiet and give me about another minute, would you?”

“Harry!” She giggled and swat at his arm. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck before untangling herself from him. “Why did you come? Is everything alright?” Her expression softened with concern in a way that made her look so absolutely endearing Harry swept her up and rightfully snogged her. When they broke apart, panting and out of breath minutes later he apologized again. “Sorry- couldn’t help it.”

He gave her a sheepish smile suddenly feeling just as pathetic as Ron had painted him to be. “I just. Er- I missed you. Is all. And I- I just wanted to see you. Is that okay? I’m sorry, you didn’t have anything important going on did you? Practice? I don’t even bloody know when you practice and I just made you drop everything because I’m a pathetic sop. I’m sor-”

Ginny shut him up with one of those small pecks that took his breath and all coherent thoughts away. “You silly man. Of course it’s alright, Harry. It’s more than alright. I’ve missed you too. I do have to admit you made me nervous with that note. It didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, bugger. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it freaked Hermione out enough to let me off the hook from studying with her tonight. We’ve been going over the same bloody chapter all week, Harry! I know you warned me but Godric, Hermione is boring me to tears and I think she’s enjoying it!”

Harry laughed and they exchanged another small moment of pure bliss. She had a way of doing that, Harry noticed. Filling a moment with everything. Filling him to the brim with happiness in the most minute ways. In that moment Harry wondered if that’s what his father felt for his mother. Later, Harry would reason with himself that James must have- for if anything was worth falling in love and marrying a girl straight out of school in the middle of a war that that feeling -this feeling- must have been in.

“Please, do carry on about your wild school year full of studying and classes.”

“Oh, only if you promise to drone on about your stuffy old coworkers and shoes that pinch your toes.”

“Hey, I’m serious! I want to know everything. I know you don’t put it all in your letters. I can tell your hand gets cramped when your writing gets all crooked and starts leaning on its side- which happens in every letter so I know you haven’t included everything you’ve wanted to.”

So Ginny spent the next half hour telling Harry about everything she felt was too little to write in her letters. Truthfully, she thought they were too little to be mentioning now when they had such a short time together but he truly seemed to be enjoying the conversation so she kept on only so he would keep looking at her like that. Like she was enchanting and everything. Ginny got the sudden courage to do something she’d been terrified of for weeks. “I had my career meeting with McGonagall my first week.” Harry searched deep in his brain for something to say to that- try as he might he couldn’t think of any specifics to ask- surely she’d mentioned this to him before. It was one of the most important meetings 5th, 6th, and 7th years had yearly and Ginny must’ve- “I didn’t mention it before because what we talked about just kind of happened. I just blurted it out without meaning to and she encouraged me, Harry. Me! She really thinks I’m capable of it.” Ginny let anticipation hang in the air for a second- reveling in the way she had Harry’s undivided attention. “She’s getting scouts from all over to come watch me play! I’m going to play quidditch professionally, Harry! Well, maybe. I have to be impressive enough for them to actually offer anything but-”

“You’re going to be amazing, Gin. Those scouts won’t know what hit them.”

“Oh, Harry. I knew I was right to wait to tell you before anyone else.”

Harry’s heart swelled with pride. He felt like he’d won a prize at that. It was in that moment that Harry realized he needed this for the rest of his life. To be the first one she shared good news with, to never miss out on being her biggest supporter, to get to watch her smile like this. To be around for all things Ginny Weasley.

It was ridiculous, then, the thought that before this visit he hadn’t known he was in love with her. She was Ginny Weasley. Beautiful Ginny who had boys falling at her feet, kind Ginny who took care of everyone she came in contact with, brilliant Ginny who was quick as a whip, brave Ginny who fought in a war at age 16 and faced much darker still at age 11- his Ginny. His talented, talented Ginny who was going to be a professional athlete. How cool was that? She was so cool and brave- his Ginny. Just looking at her now, talking a mile a minute, blushing at the confession that she’d been worried about her family’s reaction to her decision- about his reaction, eliciting confidence- he knew he was head over heels in love. She deserved the world and Harry would do anything to be the one to personally hand it to her.

Harry spent a while celebrating with Ginny and reluctantly left her to go to bed -way past her curfew- after about her tenth yawn. With promises to write and see each other soon Harry left on his way home feeling much lighter than he had in weeks.

Harry had always thought when he felt love for the first time it would be a bit more climactic than this. But strangely, this felt much better than any notion of falling in love he’d built up in his head. This was easy… natural. Nothing dramatic or flashy just… just the sheer act of being with Ginny was enough. And he was so fine with that.

It wasn’t until much later- in the early hours of the morning when Harry was finally crawling into bed that he realized he hadn’t even told her he loved her. What. A. Git.

[theshelbyclan]

Defiance

Summary: When your brothers went off to war, you couldn’t just sit and wait for them: you had to work, so as nurse Shelby, you started nursing in London

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​)

A/N: Anon requested: Hello, I saw that you write Shelby sister imagines? Is it ok for you to do me one please? I always imagine her being the same age as John and very close to Tommy. I was thinking along the lines of when the boys go to war she goes to a hospital in London dealing with soliders who need rehabilitation and help with PTSD. She doesn't come home until a year after the boys? Here's they are in trouble with Campbell and Billy Kimber Obviously take it wherever you like to I'm happy for whatever x I’m making this a two-part story, to be able to combine two different requests that had a lot of similarities. I’m using your request for the first part, and let me just say, this is such a beautiful idea that it deserves to be a film on its own. Hope I did it justice! :) Part 2 is Acceptance 

Warning: mentions of death, war and suicide.

Words: 3107

***

“I will not,” defiantly you stood in front of your superior, arms crossed in front of you and a rebellious scowl on your face. “Excuse me?” the head nurse turned around to face you, “This again, nurse Shelby?”

For a moment, you faltered. Going against a senior nurse was something that wasn’t tolerated, at all. And with good reason! The hospital wouldn’t be able to function properly. During the war, it’d been constant chaos, with men coming in and going out constantly. Dying was often a blessing, and there had been so much, so much death. But the war was over and still the men kept on coming.

“I’m not trying to rebel, nurse Miller,” you said, more meekly this time, “I just don’t see how this is going to help any of them.” “Doctor says it works,” nurse Miller replied matter-of-factly. “But does it?” some fire was coming back into you, “They are able to talk and walk again, sure, but that’s not the same as recovery, is it? The problem is not of a physical nature, it’s a mental struggle these men face.” The head nurse looked up from her work and turned fully towards you now, “Remember your place, nurse Shelby. Do as you’re told. Go on, off with you.” “What research has really been done concerning these…” you waved your hand in an annoyed manner, “methodsthat the doctors employ these days!” Thoroughly irritated now, nurse Miller dropped her work and one look told you all you needed to know: you were in trouble. Again. And so you were back to scrubbing bedpans yet again. All nurses were required to do this work and the long days without much sleep had hardened you all to the blood and filth. Still, some nurses were given this job more than others. Especially the nurses who couldn’t control their mouths around their superiors. Silently, you cursed your Shelby spirit.

But then your mind drifted off to the subject you had been discussing with nurse Miller and your blood began to boil again. ‘The soldier’s heart’, that’s what they used to called it. These were the men who could never sit still, felt anxious all the time and were constantly on edge. It had been considered a ‘normal’ condition for decennia, but it had taken on the form of an epidemic after the Great War. Brave men could no longer function and the severe psychological trauma haunted most of them still, even though the war had been over for several months now! ‘Shell-shock’ was now the popular term and doctors everywhere tried to fix the physical symptoms of the condition. You simply couldn’t fathom how none of them seemed to acknowledge that these were just symptoms: the real problem had taken root in the brain or the heart, maybe even in the soul.

“What did you do this time?” Daisy, or nurse Wells as was the proper term, asked you, when she saw you sitting on your knees in front of piles and piles of bedpans. You looked up and grinned sheepishly, “I disagreed with nurse Miller.” 

“Again.” “Again,” you admitted contritely. Daisy put down the towels she had taken in for washing, “If you’re going to disagree with anyone, choose someone less uptight! Might save your knees.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Daisy was the perfect nurse: she could function on two hours of sleep a night, see the most horrific stuff and still work on tirelessly, while aiming to make the others smile. Where you’d be without Daisy you didn’t even dare think about. “Alright,” she sighed good-naturedly, “Tell me. What did you argue this time? And tell me you’re sorry afterwards, just to practise!” Full of anger, you threw down the brush, “Electro-shock therapy doesn’t fucking help anyone! These men went to hell and back and now their brains are protesting against all the horrors they witnessed. Their minds are revolting, as they should be! The only thing ever accomplished by shocking the men into talking again or walking again is that you’ve taken away their last manner of protesting against inhumane practises. Bravo! You’ve made them into full human bombshells now, without a peep of opposition. How in the fuck is that even medically sound!?” Daisy waited a moment, “So you’re not actually sorry.” “Fuck, no.”

She looked around the door for a second and then whispered, “Fuck.” Your head shot up and you grinned broadly, “Nurse Wells, what did you just say?” “I suddenly felt brave,” she shrugged a little, “thought I might be brave enough to say the F-word, with just you here to hear me.” Full of theatrics you stood up and offered her your hand, “I congratulate you earnestly. You have now crossed a line. Welcome to the fucking party!” Beaming, Daisy tried to scold, “You’re a bad influence on me.” “You should see the rest of the Shelby clan,” and a sudden pang went through you the very moment you had spoken the words. Your friend noticed at once, “Y/N, when are you going back?” “Can’t abandon the men now,” you said briskly, leaving very little room for discussion. Daisy hesitated and finally asked, “They did all come back from France, didn’t they?” “Yes.” “When did you hear?” Scrubbing again, you replied, “I never heard, but I’d know if something had happened to them.” Daisy nodded: she knew you well enough to know your instincts never failed you, even if it got you in trouble. A lot.

***

You were lying in bed and even though the shifts weren’t as long as they’d been during the war, sleep was still scarce. Many of you got five to six hours of sleep now, which had been unimaginable during the war! Still, exhaustion wasn’t unfamiliar to any of you and when the nurses hit their pillows, they often slept at once. Still, you were wide-awake at this very moment. When the war started, it didn’t take long for the boys to sign up. Your brothers went, full of energy and bravery and all women were left grieving at home. Ada kept her mind off it, something you were never good at. You couldn’t bear the thought of all these men dying out at the front, and for what? No one seemed to know. But aunt Polly had really send you over the edge. Every morning she got up to pray and at first you had joined her, but unrest had grown inside of you and praying simply wasn’t enough anymore. So, just like your brothers, you had decided and left for training in London. There was no arguing with you and no one tried.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the things you’d seen during your time here as a nurse. The broken men, shattered limbs, blood and gore and death were easy enough to get used to. That thought alone made you frown in confusion: what has become of us, that we think that’s the easy part? But the endless streams of young men, hopeful men once, now broken and shattered like the fields of France themselves, that was the hard part. You fed them, nursed them, mended them, talked to them and held their hand if they went. And each and every face changed the moment just before they died: they were all one of your brothers. They were still alive. Aunt Polly had the gift of second sight and even though you weren’t sure what to believe, you had some of it too. Either way, you would’ve known if they were dead. But what were they like now? Because that was the real reason you daren’t go back to Small Heath. What is they were like some of these men, like ghosts trapped in the body of a once healthy human being? You wouldn’t be able to cope.

People always said that twins have a certain connection. You and John had never noticed anything of a special connection, apart from a certain gift for squabbling. But once he was at the front, when the bombs started falling, you could hear his screams in your mind. That’s when the connection had suddenly kicked in and it kept you up and made you tear your hair out for fear. God was cruel like that. “Are you a Shelby or not?” you suddenly whispered strictly to yourself. “Who is this, cowering away in London and fearing what she might see at home? Be a grownup and fucking face your family!” But something just stopped you.

***

For the next couple of weeks, you tried to get back into the swing of things. You worked harder than ever, with your exhaustion as a form of atonement. Daisy was worried and even nurse Miller told you to slow down at some point.

And then you sat next to a bed of a dying soldier. Your shift had finished already, but still you’d refused to leave him. And why? Because he reminded you of Arthur. “Nurse?” he asked feebly. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts roaming about, “I’m here,” you comforted him. “I can’t see,” he said, “Is that normal?” You took his hand, “I’m right here. Can you feel my hand?” He grabbed it a little tighter, “Yes. You have soft hands.” You smiled warmly at him. He asked again, “Nurse?” “Yes.” “When I get better,” he tried to sit up a little, “Can I maybe take you out some time?” He sure as hell wasn’t the first one to ask, so his request didn’t embarrass or shock you in the slightest. You tried to put on a chipper voice, imitating Daisy, “I don’t know. It depends, I suppose: where would we go?” The wounded soldier smiled, “I can take you to the movies. That’s what the Americans call it, did you know? The movies…” You couldn’t help but smile, “Which film would we go to?” “I’ll take you to that new romantic film, the one with that famous American actor.” “You quite like the Americans, don’t you?” you joked. He smiled again, suddenly revealing how handsome he actually was, “Americans, they have a way with women.” “So do you!” “Does that mean you’ll go with me?”

“When you get better, we’ll go to the movies,” you confirmed. But he didn’t get better. The next day, he was back to his ailing and screaming. The trouble with his mind was that sometimes the fragments seemed to recompose again and he was as sane as any man, but at other times, the war bombed his soul. His physical injuries were extensive and his chances of survival were slim. Still, the doctor was adamant on trying shock therapy on him, thinking it might help with both his physical and psychological ailments. You didn’t agree, but kept your mouth shut for once. Still, you screamed into your pillow the next night, feeling so fucking helpless at the sight of pointless suffering. The next morning, nurse Miller send you over to that soldier once again to change his bandages. All light had left his eyes. Practically inaudibly, he said, “Nurse?” “I’m here,” you took his hand again in yours. “Would you’ve done it? Would you’ve allowed me to take you out?” “Of course!” you exclaimed, “Not every day a handsome young man asks a girl like me out!” He paused for a moment, “Honestly?” “Honestly,” you said. Suddenly, he relaxed and fell back into the cushions. You frowned a little though, slightly worried about why he was no longer sure of his recovery. But there was more work to be done and you had to be on your way again. When nurse Miller told you he’d gotten hold of a razor somehow and killed himself in the night, something inside you shattered. That was it. You were done. ***

On the train to Birmingham, you couldn’t help but think about how much you’d changed. Once a Small Heath gypsy, being on edge about not being useful enough, you’d left full of innocence. Well, maybe not innocent, you were a Shelby after all. But you’d grown up being protected by young brothers, fighting them and others constantly, and still you considered your childhood a happy one. The amount of times you’d screamed at them, “I’m not a child anymore!” was insane, but only now you felt like that sentence was justified. The war had changed you too. Quickly, you’d send Aunt Polly a telegram before departing London. It said: ‘I’m coming home. Still alive. Make sure the boys save me some whiskey.’ She wouldn’t be pleased with a message like that, but you couldn’t wait to deal with the consequences again. Stepping off the train and back onto familiar ground felt like entering a dream. Oh, how you had missed the stench and noise! Without a thought, you took off your shoes and walked barefoot through the muddy streets. Watch out, Birmingham, you thought cheekily, the pauper princess is back! All nerve left you as soon as it’d come when you stood in front of your house at Watery Lane. And while you were still plucking up the courage to open the door, it swung wide open and nearly hit you square in the nose. A flash of green came rushing out and two arms squeezed the life out of you. “Where the hell have you been?” they demanded. Softly, you breathed in the smell of her perfume, “Fucking working, Ada, unlike you.” “Aunt Pol is going after you with the wooden spoon and I won’t lift a finger to save you,” she scolded, without letting go. You rolled your eyes into your sister’s hair. And then you suddenly noticed, “Looks like you’ve been busy as well!” Ada stepped back and looked down, “Seven months. Can’t even see my toes anymore, I’ve gotten so fat.” “Not much to look at anyways,” you commented. Ada slapped your shoulder and you winced. At least nothing had changed between you two.

With Aunt Polly it was an entirely different story. As soon as you walked into the house, she froze and fixed you with one of her stares that could make empires crumble. You could feel your shoulders slumping, your heart racing and you held your breath. Nothing had changed there either: it was like you were eight years old again. Slowly, she walked over to you and took a long hard look at you, never releasing eye contact. Then she grabbed your face and you almost winced, but instead she said, “You need to eat. Sit.”

Not hesitating, you obeyed at once. Without a word, she threw your telegram on the table. The silence was filled with anxiety-fuelled electricity and she let you calmly simmer in it for a few more moments. Then she spoke, “You have ten seconds to explain, before I slap you back to London myself.” So you took a big gulp of breath and explained, “I got into another fight with the head nurse and then everything went to shit and I didn’t know what to do, because I felt guilty, because he died and I fucking cannot with those doctors, because I knew work would be hard and I signed up for it, but all of a sudden I was just done, and I wanted to come back sooner, but I was scared Tommy and Arthur were dead and that John was, well I wanted to come sooner but didn’t know how to come back, and also I was you know scared that you might not take it well, and how I left, and yeah well, I was afraid this was going to happen…” “Leave her be,” Ada said to your aunt, “She’s worn out.” “It’s been eight months since the war ended,” Aunt Polly said, her face still not betraying any emotion, “We thought you were gone.” “I’m okay, Pol,” you said carefully. “How the fuck were we supposed to know?” She burst out, “No note, no letter, nothing. And now you think you can just show up, like the queen of fucking Birmingham, after writing some shitty telegram that made me drop my favourite teacup?” “Oh no, the blue one?” you asked. Ada glared at you, her eyes saying: not the right fucking response right now. So you cast your eyes downwards, “I’m sorry, Pol. The work, it just drags you in. I kept on seeing their faces in all the wounded soldiers I took care of. It was the only way I could cope.” Aunt Polly’s face softened a little, “It’s the waiting. The waiting almost killed the women.”

Images of wartime nightmares flashed in front of your eyes. Waiting was the thing you were terrible at, as it turned out. It ate you up inside, and now you’d done it to them. Finally, Aunt Polly’s reaction made sense.

“Forgive me,” you pleaded.

Your aunt walked over to the table and sat down next to you. She took your hand in hers and a wave of reassurance washed over you, “You’re like a working horse. They go crazy when they rest. You leaving shouldn’t have come as a surprise to us. It’s good to have you back. Welcome home, Y/N.”

No longer able to contain yourself, you flung yourself forwards and hugged your aunt. Tears fell from your eyes and finally, ease came over you.

Then you heard voices from the other room. Arthur’s voice first, loud and angry. He hadn’t changed much either then, perhaps a little angrier than before. Then Tommy’s reply, cold and business-like. He sounded like dad now. Finally your twin: John laughing like he was still playing in the gutter. For a few minutes, you didn’t move. You just listened to them and revelled in their sounds. These were the sounds of brothers, still alive, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

“Billy Kimber has a bloody army!” Arthur shouted.

You looked towards Ada for some kind of explanation, but she just rolled her eyes. Aunt Polly sat back and lit a cigarette. The fact that she gave that one to you, before lighting another for herself, showed she now thought of you as an adult as well. The moment was brief, but so intimate.

With a bang, the door slammed open en Arthur came storming in. Tommy was sighing deeply and still cursing right behind him, and through the open door you could see John. They all froze when they saw you, all at the same time, jaws practically hitting the floor.

“Billy Kimber, eh?” you merely said, “Looks like I showed up just in time.” 

***

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