#herbs she planted

[wingedblooms]

Herbs she planted

This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.

“The point is that this is all gardening. The garden runs through our lives like a river through a field, like air in our lungs. The garden does not end in space any more than it does in time. The flowers grow as much in our minds as in the soil. There are very few nights when I do not lie in the dark, everyone else sleeping inside this dark, creaking, bony house, and go through the garden, seeing it with the clarity of a dreamer, taking it to pieces and putting it together again, mending everything in my head.” (Montagu Don, My Roots: A Decade in the Garden) 

Like the threads of an intricate tapestry, Elain weaves a variety of plants together in her gardens. She creates living art, even at the worst of times:

I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” (acowar)

Feyre casually mentions that Elain is planting herbs in the town house garden after she drops some unsettling information on Cassian (which, as an aside, is one of my favorite scenes; I love it when Elain, the gentle gardener, unnerves 500-year-old fae). @offtorivendell posted a headcanon that Elain has a garden full of useful plants, which makes sense for a practical forest witch, and this quote suggests she is on the right track. We don’t hear about her herbs specifically again, but we do see glimpses of her work on the town house garden where she started planting them: 

…peering out the kitchen window at the garden beyond…Elain had already readied the garden for winter, veiling the more delicate bushes and beds with burlap. (acofas) 

-

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas) 

Herbs are used by witches and healers in the Maasverse for a variety of purposes, such as flavoring cuisine, enhancing divination, and healing the body. All things many of us naturally associate with Elain.

Cuisine

Manon gives us a glimpse of Crochan witches going about their domestic tasks, including cooking with dried herbs at their cauldrons:

At least two dozen other witches tended to the several fire pits scattered amongst the white tents, all of them halting their various work as Manon passed. She’d never seen Crochans going about their domestic tasks, but here they were: some tending to fires, some hauling buckets of water, some monitoring heavy cauldrons of what smelled like mountain-goat stew seasoned with dried herbs. (koa)

This image makes me think of other witches (and suspected witches) who have engaged in similar domestic tasks, such as Hypaxia offering tea to Ruhn in the medwitch clinic, or Elain carrying herbed potatoes that she helped the twins prepare near the winter solstice. In our world, traditional witchcraft is founded on a deep bond with the land; many of the holidays on the Wheel of the Year align with the agricultural year. It is no surprise then that witches in the Maasverse are also deeply connected to the bounty of the land. And even though it does not involve witches exclusively, the Great Rite in Prythian honors this bond and is performed to ensure balance between the the land and those who benefit from it. It’s very witchy.

This also helps put into perspective the gravity of Queen Rhiannon's curse on the land:

But the last Crochan queen had cast a spell to ensure that as long as Ironteeth banners flew, no bit of soil would yield life to them. (com) “Rhiannon swore on her last breath that we would win the war, but not the land. That for what we had done, we would inherit the land only to see it wilt and die in our hands. Our beasts would shrivel and keel over dead; our witchlings would be stillborn, poisoned by the streams and rivers. Fish would rot in lakes before we could catch them. Rabbits and deer would flee across the mountains. And the once-verdant Witch Kingdom would become a wasteland. […] Every few decades, they would send groups to try to work the land, to see if the curse still held. Those groups never returned. We have been wanderers for five hundred years—the wound made worse by the fact that humans eventually took it for themselves. And the land responded to them.” (eos)

Manon’s half-sister, who is named for the last Crochan queen, has earthy eyes that are described exactly like Thesan’s, which are rich and warm like Elain’s (who I have long associated with healing light and Dawn).

The Crochan witch, her eyes the solid color of freshly tilled earth, looked up at Manon. How those eyes were so bright despite the horrors written on her body, how she didn’t collapse right there or start begging, Manon didn’t know. (hof)

Every Crochan witch also has an hearth that travels with them, and they can use it to communicate when they are scattered across the world:

Glennis jerked her chin toward the tent flaps, to the fire pit beyond. “Every Crochan family has a hearth that moves with them to each camp or home we make; the fires never extinguish. The flame in my hearth dates back to the Crochan city itself, when Brannon Galathynius gave Rhiannon a spark of eternally burning fire. My mother carried it with her in a glass globe, hidden in her cloak, when she smuggled out your ancestor, and it has continued to burn at every royal Crochan hearth since then.” 

“What about when magic disappeared for ten years?” 

“Our seers had a vision that it would vanish, and the flame would die. So we ignited several ordinary fires from that magic flame, and kept them burning. When magic disappeared, the flame indeed winked out. And when magic returned this spring, the flame again kindled, right in the hearth where we had last seen it.” Her great-grandmother turned toward her. “When a Crochan Queen summons her people to war, a flame is taken from the royal hearth, and passed to each hearth, one camp and village to the other. The arrival of the flame is a summons that only a true Crochan Queen may make.” (koa)

The Crochans carry hearths—the heart of family and domestic life—with them as they travel, which reminded me of Elain’s rose:

It was a fire. Not her father’s neck. Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d place on the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. 

Another log cracked, and Nesta flinched. But she remained sitting there. Staring at that carved rose. (acosf)

Nesta found Elain’s dark rose on the mantel in their old cottage, and then felt the need to place it on a mantel in the House of Wind, just above the hearth and next to a figurine of a primal goddess, likely the Mother. It moves from mantel to mantel and hearth to hearth until she places it on her father’s gravestone in the final scene of her book. This rose may be yet another hint of Elain's connection to witches, divinity, and roses, as well as the gift of healing, which I’ll get to later. Roses are associated with love and death (among many other things), and have a rich history in folklore; they are a common ingredient used in herbal magic. I could see Elain possessing her own portable hearth to accompany dried herbs from her town house garden as she sets out on various adventures. That way, no matter how far she travels, she'll always have her home with her like a lovely Crochan witch.

Divination

Some herbs are used to amplify divination or dream magic. As @offtorivendell mentioned in her post on Elain’s Sight, seers in Erilea use bloodbane (which, as a drug, may contain herbs) to see spirits from other realms, and mystics use bloodsalt to focus their search across worlds. In Midgard, the Oracle's Temple is full of incense and the sphinx breathes in the fumes that are smoldering in her chamber.

...the domed onyx building of the Oracle's Temple veiled in the mists that had rolled in over the river.

Even at midday, the Oracle's Park was near-empty, save for the hunched, slumbering forms of the desperate Vanir and humans who wandered the paths and gardens, waiting for their turn to enter the incense-filled hallways. (hoeab)

-

She blinked, wings rustling as if in surprise, but settled herself. Breathed in the fumes rising from the hole. Minutes passed, and Hunt’s head began to throb with the various scents—especially the reeking sulfur. 

Smoke swirled, masking the sphinx from sight even though she sat only ten feet away. [...] A rasping voice slithered out of the smoke. “To open the doorway between worlds.” A chill seized Hunt. (hoeab)

@offtorivendell theorized that, like others gifted with Sight, Elain could use substances to amplify her powers if needed. It's possible she might be able to use herbs from her garden to pierce the veil and see clearly. She even smells like jasmine, a plant that—among many other things—induces prophetic dreams.

Healing

What can cure can also kill. (Rebecca Beyer, Wild Witchcraft)

In Midgard, we're told witches are seers, warriors, potion-makers, and healers. Healers, also known as medwitches, are the most visible and they have their own herb gardens. Their healing magic is even more powerful than the fae.

They were a strange, unique group, the witches. Though they looked like humans, their considerable magic and long lives marked them as Vanir, their power mostly passed through the female line. All of them deemed civitas. The power was inherited, from some ancient source that the witches claimed was a three-faced goddess, but witches did pop up in non-magical families every now and then. Their gifts were varied, from seers to warriors to potion-makers, but healers were the most visible in Crescent City. Their schooling was thorough and long enough that the young witch before him was unusual. She had to be skilled to be already working in a clinic when she couldn’t have been a day over thirty.

[…]

She gestured to the hall behind her, where sunlight leaked in through a glass door at its other end. “We have a courtyard garden. The day is fine enough that you could wait out there.”

[…]

Ruhn followed her down the hall, trying not to breathe in her eucalyptus-and-lavender scent too deeply. 

Don’t be a fucking creep. 

The sunlight tangled in her thick night-dark hair as she reached the courtyard door and shouldered it open, revealing a slate-covered patio surrounded by terraced herb gardens. The day was indeed lovely, the river breeze making the plants rustle and sway, spreading their soothing fragrances. (hoeab)

We now know this graceful healer is the Witch Queen, Hypaxia. Elain seems to share parallels with Hypaxia and her half-sister, the Hind (and her story about the forest witch). Hypaxia smells like plants that are used for healing and shows Ruhn out to their courtyard herb garden. Like the witches, Elain is gifted magic from an ancient source (the Cauldron, which is also part of a magical trio: Mother, Cauldron, Fate) and plants her own herbs in a courtyard garden. She smells of jasmine and honey, which have medicinal properties: one is used to improve sleep and the other is used to treat burns. 

The wise and peaceful medwitches in Midgard remind me of Crochan witches in Erilea, who were scattered to the winds and used healing to hide their heritage:

They were still out there, the self-righteous, insufferable Crochans, hiding as healers and wise-women. (hof)

We also witness extensive healing magic from humans blessed by Silba in Antica, and as I mentioned in forbidden secrets, they seem to share some pointed parallels with Elain as well.

It was broad, more of a keep than anything, but still rounded. Buildings flanked its sides, connected on lower levels. All enclosed by towering white walls, the iron gates—fashioned to look like an owl spreading its wings—thrown wide to reveal lavender bushes and flower beds lining the sand-colored gravel walkways. Not flower beds. Herb beds. (tod)

We learn that Maeve surrounded herself with healers because of the threat they pose to the Valg, and in the scene below, a Valg princess calls the healers Maeve's secret army:

“Why do you think Maeve has hoarded her healers, never allowing them to leave her patrolled borders? She knew we would return. She wanted to be ready—to protect herself. Her prized favorites, those Doranelle healers. Her secret army.” Duva hummed, motioning with the dagger to the necropolis. “How clever those Fae were, who escaped her clutches after the last war. They ran all the way here—the healers who knew their queen would keep them penned up like animals. And then they bred the magic into the land, into its people. Encouraged the right powers to rise up, to ensure this land would always be strong, defended. And then they vanished, taking their treasures and histories beneath the earth. Ensuring they were forgotten below, while their little garden was planted above.” (tod)

The fae healers bred magic into the land, into its people…then they vanished beneath the earth…forgotten…while their little garden was planted above. THEIR LITTLE GARDEN?! I've wondered elsewhere if Elain might heal the land, but what if, like Doranelle healers, Elain is weaving magic into the ground because of something she has Seen? What if she is endlessly toiling in her little gardens not just to restore life, but to cultivate the right magic to rise up and bloom, in defense of her family and the realm?

@offtorivendell has theorized that Elain might weaponize plants, like Ents, which would be so much fun to read. I would love to see her use (or sing to) living things around her, as @silverlinedeyes theorized, to uncover secrets and protect others (like a forest witch would). There are so many possibilities for how gardening will come into play in her story. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see her little gardens become secret weapons that are critical for the future. At the very least, we know that it has a symbolic purpose, as the quote I started this post with suggests: it is the lens through which we see Elain's evolution and role. Feyre starts the series believing this about her sister:

It wasn’t meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty. (acotar)

Then she sees her sister come alive in her garden, where she is able to exert control and create beautiful art with blooms. Her joy is infectious.

The little garden beneath the window was hers: every bloom and shrub had been picked and planted by her hand; she would allow no one else to care for it. Even the weeding and watering she did on her own. (acotar)

And we also see the moment when Feyre’s perspective shifts, and she begins to wonder if Elain prefers to get her hands dirty; if it's proof of her work.  

“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy. (acofas)

We’re then reminded of this evolution in the Feysand bonus chapter:

I glowered at Rhys. “You think Elain’s boring?” 

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” 

“And torn up by thorns,” I mused, recalling a morning this past summer when Elain had come into the house, her right palm bleeding from several gashes thanks to a stubborn rosebush that had pierced her gloves. The thorns had broken off in her skin, leaving sharp splinters that I’d had to pull free. (feysand bonus)

It’s interesting that Feysand discuss Elain’s hands in their bonus chapter: gardeners often get their hands dirty for a pretty result (living art). And then, in Azriel's bonus, he thinks about how Elain couldn't possibly know how his hands have been sullied far beyond their scars (by his deadly art). Sully is a synonym for soil, which means to make dirty. Soil is often used to describe the upper layer of the earth where plants grow, bringing us full circle.

Sarah could run with this hand imagery in a few different ways, but it reminds me of someone else in another world who also bloodies their hand on a rosebush…

Dorian held up his bloodied hand. “Thornbush.” Rosebush made his cuts seem that much more pathetic.

“The hand is—very complex,” she murmured at last, studying the cuts. “I just wanted to make sure that nothing was damaged and that there weren’t any thorns lodged in there.” She swiftly added, “Your Highness.” (com)

Why do I keep coming back to Dorian? Although he is heavily involved with the witches in tog, he is not a witch. So what is he doing here? It will lead back to healers and witches so stay with me. Dorian evolves over the series and becomes a force to be reckoned with; his raw magic allows him to learn other types of magic, including how to shift and wield magical hands.

His hands trembled—and not just with fear. No, there was some force still running through him, begging him to unleash it again, to open himself up … Dorian crammed the last book back onto the shelf and took off at a run. He could tell no one. Trust no one. (com)

-

Chaol stared at Dorian in mute horror as his friend’s eyes glowed a deep, raging blue, and the prince snarled at the king, “Don’t you touch him.” The ice spread across the room, up the legs of the shocked guards, freezing over Sorscha’s blood, and Dorian got to his feet. He raised both hands, and light shimmered along his fingers, a cold breeze whipping through his hair. (com)

Anyone else think Dorian’s snarl sounds a lot like Elain’s snarled don’t touch my sister? Yeah, me too. In Seed of power, I wondered if Elain possessed raw magic like Dorian, and before I’m accused of giving her excessive powers, I think this might be the case for all three witchy sisters. They are blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match Rhysand whose power is described as raw. When Rhysand uses Feyre as a conduit in acowar, her magic comes out as raw, brutal power to weld the Cauldron back together. It reminds me of this:

"Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power." (acosf)

Feyre welded the Cauldron and Nesta hammered swords, creating her own trove of nightmares. Elain will likely craft something with her magic as well, and it may be the other side of the coin to Nesta's nightmares: a trove of dreams. It could be witch mirrors hidden in ordinary jewelry, or even herbs with the power to heal and kill, if she can weaponize plants.

Now back to Dorian and the reason I mentioned him in the first place. He uses phantom hands, as @ladynightcourt3 has pointed out before:

Then those claws were pinned in the wood beneath phantom hands as Dorian sauntered over, face so unyieldingly unmoved. The Bloodhound thrashed, those claws trying to wrench free— The creature screamed as those invisible hands crunched down on bone. Then through it. […] It was not flame or wind that snapped the Bloodhound’s neck. But invisible hands. (eos) 

Interesting. This reminds me of another phantom hand, albeit a bit gentler:

And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore. A bargain. With the Cauldron itself. Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf) 

This gentle, glowing hand intervenes on Nesta’s behalf, and it seems to be connected to the wise, soft voice.

A soft, familiar voice whispered the words. As they had been whispered to her long ago. As it had warned her in Oorid’s darkness. A lovely, kind female voice, sage and warm, which had been waiting for her all this time. (acosf)

This gentle hand and voice also seem like the Other Yrene bargains with in an important healing. The Other is most likely Silba, the goddess of healers and bringer of peace and gentle deaths, in Erilea. The one who is associated with owls and purple and healing magic. 

A woman’s voice that was both familiar and foreign. A voice that was both Hafiza’s and … another. Someone who was not human, never had been. Speaking through Hafiza herself, their voices blending into the blackness.

[…]

A daughter of Fenharrow will pay the debt of a son of Adarlan? 

Yes. 

She could have sworn a gentle, warm hand brushed her face.

[…]

The Other said, You offer this of your own free will? 

Yes. With my entire heart. 

It had been his from the start, anyway. Those loving, phantom hands brushed her cheek again and faded away.

[…]

The Other said, I chose well. You shall pay the debt, Yrene Towers. And I hope you shall see it for what it truly is. 

Yrene tried to speak. But light flared, soft and soothing. (tod)

The Other is not named, but it says it chose well and we know that Yrene was blessed with powers by Silba, so it seems likely that this is Silba’s voice. Interestingly, one of the healers also mentions Death:

Before Yrene could answer, Chaol demanded, “What cost?” 

A stillness crept over them, and even Yrene looked to Hafiza as the woman extracted herself from Eretia’s care. The Healer on High said quietly, “The damage was too great. Even with all of us…Death held you by the hand.” (tod)

This scene shares so many parallels with the Feysand rescue; it is a powerful healing with a high cost. We learn through Yrene that healers can sense when death is near, which is one of their less savory abilities. Death lurks near Feyre before Nesta uses the Trove, and that is when an otherworldly being looks out from her eyes. The Feysand healing would have taken place after the gods were banished from Erilea, and we did not actually witness their deaths. Is it possible the Mother is connected to Silba?

There is also a place beneath the Torre called Silba’s Womb where healers soak in natural spring waters in the form of dozens of tubs. The darkness Yrene senses in this underground cavern is connected to creation, rest and unformed thought, reminding me of Elain’s iron mental gates that are covered with sleeping buds, leaves, and thorns. This sleeping garden could be a hint for a dormant power like Dorian’s; when his sleeping power is awoken, it is described as something ancient and slumbering deep inside of him, and it opens an eye.

And the darkness above her … it was different from what she had spied in Lord Westfall’s body. The opposite of that blackness. The darkness above her was that of creation, of rest, of unformed thought. Yrene stared into it, into the womb of Silba herself. And could have sworn she felt something staring back. Listening, while she thought through all Lord Westfall had told her. (tod) 

Silba’s dark womb of creation is also eerily similar to the dark womb that Nesta senses in the depths of the library:

There was night, and there was the darkness of extinguishing a candle, and then there was this. Not only the true absence of light, but … a womb. The womb from which all life had come and would return, neither good nor evil, only dark, dark, dark. […] Her name drifted to her as if rising from the depths of some black ocean. […] The darkness pulsed, beckoning. (acosf)

The healing magic we see in tog reminds me quite a bit of the Cauldron, which is that dark womb Nesta mentioned. Healing light not only weaves things together, but devours darkness:

More of the world faded away. I am not afraid of you, Yrene said into the dark. And you have nowhere to run. Duva thrashed, trying to unseat Yrene's grip. Yrene pressed down harder on her chest. Time slowed and bent. She was dimly aware of the ache in her knees, the cramp in her back. Dimly aware of Sartaq and Kashin refusing to offer their position to someone else. Still Irene sent her magic flowing into Diva. Filling her with that devouring light. [...] "Utterly pathetic," Yrene repeated, her magic rallying behind her in a mighty, cresting white wave. "For a prince to prey on a helpless woman." The demon scrambled back against the wave, clawing at the dark as if it would tunnel through Duva. Yrene pushed forward. Let her wave fall.

Yrene's tidal wave of light devours the dark of the Valg like the thread of Hope piercing the Void. The language is similar to the wave imagery of the Cauldron and Elain’s white void when she is overcome by despair and strange new powers. If her void is not the typical dark nothingness but white, could her healing power be opalescent light that devours the darkness? As bright as the sunstone palace of Dawn that holds the light of a thousand suns, piercing the shadows of night each morning?

If Silba and the Mother are connected (one and the same, or part of the same consciousness of formless, higher beings), could Elain—a seer with theoretical raw magic that can heal and destroy and everything in between���act as their watchful guardian, an otherworldly bird of prey?

Even though it perched atop a gnarled branch of iron that flowed across the door itself, wings flared wide as it prepared to leap into the skies, it seemed … alert. Aware of all who passed that door, who perhaps gazed too long in the direction of the workshop. (tod)

Perhaps time and space also work differently for her, as they do for the Ancients.

Next: The Ancients, or Elain’s connection to ancient witches.

Series: seer. wise woman. witch.

[rainydayzo]

Hehehehe I’m so proud of this

Also I have way to much to say about the thought process and story in this so enjoy the tags :]

It’s drawings like these that make me wonder if I would like writing fanfiction :0

[stillw4t3r]

sum pathologic drawings as im playing thru both 2 and classic ^_^ the fact that its mostly shitpost stuff so far is fucked up though

[axewchao]

"Miss Wendy, I found one!"

"Finally! Was starting to think I cleared this spot out already!"

Wendy's next, accompanied by Eleanor Truffles, her self-proclaimed assistant for the day! Seems a lot of Wendy's latest brews require ice flowers, so the two little ladies went off to find some!

Good thinking on Wendy's part, as with someone as eagle-eyed as Ellie on her side, gathering ingredients is a breeze!

Ellie's idea of an adventure with one of the ultra-famous Koopalings wasn't anything like this... but it's still fun! ^w^

[kirkwallguy]

HOW ANDERS AND MARCUS DOING are they together, did they separate their ways, is markus sheltering an apostate bf. are they happy together and have insane gay sex because gods know they deserve it

things are uncertain and turbulent for a looong time with them just because of how difficult their situation is, but as of a few years after the events of dai they are married and live in a little cottage on the outskirts of some village <3 anders is accepted as an apostate healer after saving the life of a child in the village while marcus helps out with random farm work and everyone loves his weird autism creature ass. they have a kitty cat and grow their own herbs for poultices.

[predictablychaoticart]

First full drawing of my little hexblood in awhile; they've come a long way since I first made them, but it's good to go back to the short hair and the wolfskin, it works well for them

[ch-4-eri]

my mother is secretly a resident evil character

[katya-goncharov]

honestly so fed up of my mum constantly laying into me and giving me a hard time over everything i do

[riderheart]

violet is a tea girlie. yeah she likes coffee bc zoom juice is always appreciated, but she loves tea. she has a large collection of herbal teas, and if you have a problem then she definitely has a tea for that.

[cathleen-and-co]

Had to move my old art and thus went through my old art of Cathy and I gotta say the evolution of her character is so funny to me, because it basically went:

Self-insert -> got bored of that and gave her a total make-over in personality and appearance -> Although, this happened when I was 13 and so the chosen ‘improved’ Cathleen was just a disney princess -> Angst era, in which all the whump and hurt/comfort I could possibly think of was thrown at her, although her appearance remained largely the same (its not changed much over the years tbh) -> eventually got tired of that and decided to make something a little less angsty, which landed her on the run-away bride arc -> finally, she and Mel became what they are now; just two gals doing magic and collecting, like, herbs and whatnot

Oh, and they also got gayer with each phase.

[daughter-heir]

all of my new neighbors are 60+ lmao me and marianne downstairs about to be besties. I have only old lady hobbies we can go birdwatching together and puzzle. carlton across the hall already gave us his number

[running-in-the-dark]

today was exhausting - my friend was here for about 7 hours and I just. oh man I love her and all but it's just a lot sometimes. it's probably for the best that we only meet up like 2-4 times a year now (gives me enough time to forget how draining it is so I look forward to it, and recover afterwards)

I don't talk to anyone but my husband most days, and he doesn't really talk. so that's maybe 15 minutes total of talking. and today it was literally. 7 hours. no breaks except when we were eating (but no even then someone was always talking).

first of all ouch, it hurts (my voice is very hoarse now). and also. it's so so so draining. like. we really have nothing in common at this point. but she's my oldest friend and I do love her so it's tolerable... but just barely. these days there's way too much diet/food/weight loss talk, and also she seems to be getting into alternative medicine which I cannot fucking stand (it's one topic where I can't pretend or be nice about it either). lots and lots of very preachy vegan stuff too (I don't have any problems with it, I admire people who can do it, but fuck dude you know I eat meat and that I've said many times that I *can't* go vegan (I would starve. there's not enough foods that would be left. seriously.) and it feels pretty shitty to keep going on about it every damn time. I'm not sitting there trying to convince her that she should really be an atheist or something, because I know what her thoughts are about that and I respect it.

when she hangs out with her other friends a lot it's mostly just talking about all the issues that come from that (they fucking suck). I don't know, it kind of feels like I'm her therapist. when I talk about something I'm interested in she doesn't ask many questions and it kind of sucks. like, dude I don't care about your plants either, but I'm interested because you care, so. maybe try that too. would be nice!

[indiegame]

went to a garden center today. its like i woke up.

[valentina-writes]

Here's an idea for a Azriel x reader fanfic if you're interested! Azriels mate is pregnant and she is a cauldron made high fae. While he's away on a mission. She is taken by his half brothers and put in the cell he spent the early years of his life. Azriel must go rescue her. We love a protective azriel

no grave (can hold my body down)

Azriel x reader

summary: shortly after you find out you're pregnant with Azriel's baby, two illyrians kidnap you on a mission. But it turns out they're not strangers, after all.

warnings: physical violence, predatory behavior, pregnancy, hurt/comfort

genre: angst, (a bit of fluff) | words: 4.3k | masterlist

A/N: Thanks for the idea, anon! Funny enough, I was thinking about opening requests again when this came in (I'll update you on that soon). I really hope you like it ;)

It was a routine mission, nothing more. A quick trip to the illyrian steppes to gather healing herbs, at your own request. To free your head. You had done this countless times, winnow in, pick herbs, winnow out. But not this time.

You were crouched in a meadow, trying to identify the many plants. Every now and then, you pulled out a little booklet with descriptions of the herbs you were looking for, comparing them. But your mind was elsewhere. This morning, Madja had visited you, after weeks of feeling unwell, vomiting and utter exhaustion. Her beaming smile, the wrinkles forming in the corners of her eye, had been a shock, much like her words. You're pregnant, dear.

Pregnant. And instead of being excited, you had felt sick to your stomach and immediately fled from Velaris before Azriel returned from his own mission. And here you were now. It wasn't that you didn't want this baby, or that you were scared Azriel would be anything but elated. But it would change your lives so drastically, so suddenly.

You quietly hummed a sweet melody to yourself. What would he say? What would you do?

Over your song, you didn't hear the birds stop chirping and the wind stilling. Lost in thought, you kept hacking away at the plants before you.

"Who do we have here?". You stilled and then turned, drawing your knife.

It was Azriel standing before you, your beautiful mate. You let your knife sink. His big wings were folded against his back, his soft dark hair blowing in the breeze. You opened your mouth in surprise. He stepped closer. "If that isn't little Y/N".

Why was he here? Why was he talking like this? He was unlike himself, but you couldn't quite make it out. Something about him was different, you mused. Your gaze wandered over him, trying to understand. The wind stilled, and then you saw it. There were no shadows. And the hand, hovering over the knife, that wasn't truth-teller, was unmarked.

You bolted, dropping the pouch you had gathered the herbs in. That had been the first lection Azriel had ever given you. Run. Bring as much distance between you and the opponent as you can and then winnow.

Five steps. That was how far you got, because right before you, another illyrian dropped from the sky. He looked less like Azriel, but the similarity was still startling. So much that you lost a precious second staring at him. A second he used to grab your arms in place and throw away your knife. And he blew something into your face, a kind of powder that left a heavy metallic tang in your nostrils. Faebane. Strong hands gripped you by your neck from behind.

"My favorite sister in law", Azriel's brother before you crooned, "what a shame the invitations for the mating ceremony got lost. I would've loved to see the bastard-union". The faebane burned in your nose and in your mouth. The grip of the male behind you was so strong around your neck that you were fighting for each intake of breath, trying to cough out as much of the poison as possible.

Don't panic, you thought to yourself, fighting to stay composed. You gathered all of your magic, tried to fold the cosmos and step right into the next world. You imagined the old woods and fields of fire-like flowers and gathered all your energy. But the power escaped your grasp. It wasn't enough to winnow. Not to a different world, not to Velaris, not even to the other side of the meadow. The power inside you had dwindled into a small spark.

And the bond. The mating bond inside your chest numbed down, its glow being cast into darkness. You grasped at it, but it escaped your reach. With your last spark of power, you grapped the bond, refused to let go, even when it ran tight and fickle, and tugged. Hard. Harder than ever and only let go when the bond went fully dark.

"You will die". They didn't expect you to fight. The surprise was on your side when you kneed the one in front of you straight in the groin. His eyes widened and the warrior dropped to his knees, but still wouldn't let go. A second kick made him groan, dropping his arms and cursing under his breath. But there was no way you could shrug off the other one, his hands still tight around your neck. Not without the knife. You clawed at his hands, kicked at him, but he was just too big and you were too exhausted. Your cauldron-given powers were stolen from you. Under normal circumstances they would've been dead the second they laid hands on you. Not today.

He was hard against you now. Bile rose up in your throat at the feeling of him rubbing against you. "What a feisty little bitch you are", he whispered into your ear. And then he squeezed your neck hard and the world turned dark.

It was dark around you. A blackness so infinite you couldn't make out your own hand engulfed you. You had no recollection how you got here. The stone floor you lay on was nastily cold and wet, draining any warmth from your body. Any energy from you and the baby. The baby. Your hand shot to your stomach and chains rattled on the floor at the movement. They had shackled you. The cuffs were ice-cold around your wrists and so tight it hurt. A whimper escaped your lips. With soft strokes, you caressed your stomach. How unfair it was for this little baby. In a few weeks, you would start to show, you realized. You forbid yourself imagining what Azriel's brothers would do to your unborn child if they found out.

You sat upright. The chains that bound you to the wall allowed you to move through the cell. You explored every inch of it. There was nothing but cold stone and a bucket to relieve yourself. No door. Not even a window. This was the place Azriel had spent his childhood in, you were sure of it. He seldom talked about this time period. But from what you knew, from what he screamed during his nightmares and afterwards whispered to you, gasping for breath, this was it. Now, often you woke up screaming, too, haunted by dreams of a little winged boy sharing your cell. But you didn't allow yourself to cry. Not once.

Had he even felt the last tug you had given the bond? Azriel was on the continent, as far as you knew. Maybe your magic had been too weak, the distance too far. There was no way of knowing whether he was aware that you were gone. But then again, you tried to console yourself, Rhys knew exactly where you had last been. They will rescue me, you repeated again and again. They will find me.

You couldn't tell how much time had passed already. In the beginning, you screamed and shouted and tugged on the shackles, so hard the skin rubbed away and left a bloody mess. Every now and then, you tried reaching for the bond, for your mate. But it was gone, just like your powers.

The only thing that disturbed the emptiness of the cell was stale bread and water. Sometimes it seemed like not even an hour had passed between meals, sometimes it felt like days. The food was poisoned, you were sure. But, after a few days, hunger won over all else, and you ate the faebane. Everytime you ate, you prayed to the Mother. Not the baby. Let it survive. Don't let the poison affect it.

There was no way to tell the time, not even a sound from outside the cell reached you, but more than a week must have passed before they came to see you. Light broke the dark void. Violent beams of it hit your eyes, blinding you almost entirely after - what? - days? weeks? in the darkness. You had no clue how long you had been here already.

"How is little Y/N?", a deep voice sounded. His face was unrecognizable, so blinded were you, but it was the one you had kicked in the balls, you were fairly certain. His tone was pure mockery. "Tired of this yet?"

You wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing your distress. "What do you want?"

"See how my little bastard sister in law is doing, of course".

"If you're so concerned for my wellbeing, maybe you shouldn't have put me in a cell"

"No, I think you're exactly where you belong. Where he also belongs". Your heart twisted. Azriel had spent years in this cell. Images of his child-self forced its way into your mind. His hands, freshly burned and torturingly painful. His wings, useless and limp because they had never taught him to use them. You slowly breathed in. Now you needed to be strong for all three of you. Not despair.

"Let me go. I haven't done anything to you. I don't even know you. Let me out"

"You're right. But word says not only the Archeron sisters came out of the Cauldron and took something from it. That when you were made you bargained with the Mother herself and she loved you so much she gave you a power like no other". Your blood ran cold. Thoughts of the day you came out of the Cauldron swirled through your head. Azriel's face as he watched in horror, half-dead. The bond snapping immediately. The Mother. The gift.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to offer a bargain myself". You didn't answer. It was clear what he wanted.

He tried once again. "What is it that the cauldron gifted you? That has the high lord make the mountains shake in rage at your disappearance?". Finally, you could make out his face. You studied him quietly. His face was twisted into a sneer, eyes dead. There was no empathy in his gaze, no sign of remorse. And it didn't seem to occur to him that Rhys would always go to the end of the world to rescue his brother's mate, no matter their power.

You stilled, thinking. He didn't even know what powers you possessed exactly. Was it all an act of speculation?

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye. His grip was so strong it brought tears to your eyes. "Answer me, bitch"

"Maybe you should've investigated on my powers before throwing me in your little dungeon", you hissed. He dropped your head immediately. His big hand met your face with a thundering bang, so hard the back of your head met the stone wall with a sickening thud. A pained gasp left your lips. Your cheek burned where he had striked and your skull. Your skull was ringing, throbbing so hard you saw stars and a wet patch formed at the back of it. Hot, blazing pain killed every thought in your head but one. Not the baby.

"All talk, no bite", he chuckled and kneeled down before you. "Let me get this straight. You service me and my brother with your power and in exchange you get to leave the cell". It was such a shitty bargain, under normal circumstances you would've laughed. But all you could do was sob at the pain blooming in your skull, the sounds of it ricocheting off the walls.

Another voice, right at the trap door. The other brother. "Try not to kill her"

The male before you retreated.

"Leave her. She will come to her senses soon".

They left you there, bleeding on the floor. No healer came. The wound stopped bleeding after a while, but the throbbing pain remained. You drifted in and out of sleep, only awake long enough to retch up the little food you got. You would never return home. Azriel would never get to meet his child, not even know he was a father.

He came back regularly. Each time, he offered the same bargain. Each time, you refused a little less violently.

"Tell me about your powers", he would demand again and again. And you would shake your head until he hit and kicked you, until you were a sobbing mess on floor of the cell. But you didn't tell him.

Until, one day, the other one came. The one with the predatory glint in his eye, the one who had gotten hard at your tries to get away from him. He was so tall he had to crouch before you. And when he threatened to touch you, when he whispered into the darkness how he would use you, you had broken down. The words had spilled out of you like your tears and for a moment you were scared he would touch you anyways. I can winnow between worlds. But he only grinned and left. He had what he wanted. The next time he'd ask, he knew you'd accept whatever bargain he would offer.

That night, the darkness around you felt different. It wasn't empty. Something was watching you. You tried to ignore it, to simply fall asleep, but its presence made it impossible. So, you searched every inch of the cell. On hands and knees you crept through the small room, trying to find whatever it was. You found nothing but cold hard stone. But it was there. Everywhere. And when you finally closed your eyes again and laid your head against the cold stone, the darkness became a thing. And you could have sworn it sung a lullaby to you, in the language of the wind.

The trap door swung open once again. Blazing Light blinded you and you could barely make out a tall illyrian landing before you. He was too big for this cell. His wings scraped against the walls on both sides, and his head was ducked low as to not bump into the ceiling.

You scurried away from him, using your hands on the wall to guide you into the farthest corner. Inside you, your heart hammered against your ribs. This was it. He'd force you into the bargain.

The male extended a hand to you. You couldn't see more than his outlines, so blinding was the light. "Y/N, it's me".

You bared your teeth at the male and hissed. "I'll do what you want but if you touch me one more time, I'll fucking kill you".

A sharp intake of breath. "I'll get you out of here, Y/N. Please. It's me, Azriel". His tone was pleading, his voice oh so familiar. But it couldn't be him. Just another one of their tricks to get you to comply.

You dropped your head against the cold stone. "At least make it quick this time", you mumbled.

The male crouched down before you. Slowly, your eyes adapted to the light and you could make out his features. He looked like your mate. The golden specks in his hazel eyes, the dark locks of hair. But then again, his brothers looked so similar. It must have been wishful thinking. A trick of the light.

"I'm here to bring you home", he whispered, his voice breaking. Soft tendrils of air swirled over your shackled wrists, tugging at the cuffs. Dark and silky, kissing your raw skin where you had rubbed it open trying to free yourself. The male's hands met your face, stroking your cheeks. Scarred hands, wiping away tears that were running from your eyes.

Your head snapped up. "Azriel". It was more an outcry than anything, strangled and barely understandable. You flung yourself at him, as far as the confines allowed.

"Shhh, I'm here, I'm here. We're going home. Everything will be okay". Another figure appeared behind him and the shackles dissolved into thin air. Azriel was all over you in an instant. His strong hands roamed your body, pressed you tightly against him as if to never let you go again. You sobbed into his shoulder. He had come for you. He had saved you. "It's over. It's over. You have been so strong", Azriel whispered to you. He pressed a kiss to your temple and threaded his hand into your hair, where he met-

"Ow", you sobbed harder as he touched the wound. Azriel's hands immediately let go and curled aaround your shoulders instead.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry they did this to you".

"Get her out, Cass and I will handle the rest", the other person said. You had almost forgotten about him. Rhysand, you registered. Azriel picked you up, your limbs curling around his strong body. Your face buried into the crook of his neck, still whimpering against his shoulder. But it were tears of joy. His wings closed in around you immediately.

"No. I want to see the light leave their eyes for what they have done to my mate". His tone was cold, unyielding. So unlike the soft hand stroking your back, the nose buried in your hair, breathing in your scent deeply.

"Then I will keep them alive. But first, you leave. Now".

He stepped through the wind with you in his arms. You didn't feel it in his tight embrace, but he must have winnowed because moments later he sat down on your bed with you on his lap. His wings folded around you half-way, so that light could still come through. The familiarity of the sight took your breath away. You'd thought you would never be with him like this again.

"You're at home", Azriel whispered to you. "It's okay, we're at home". Strangled sounds filled the room, sobs and whines and only when his rough hands stroked your back and he told you to breathe, you realized you were crying and you were making the sounds.

"My love, I've got you. You're safe here". You forced yourself to breathe and dropped your head to his chest.

"Shh, I'm here. They can't hurt you anymore". Azriel kissed your head. You counted his breaths, trying to mimic them, In – out – in – out, and took in his scent of night-chilled air and cedar.

You didn't know how long you stayed this way until you could breathe again and stopped sobbing. Only then did you realize what had happened.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you forced out. Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but you willed them away.

For a while, you only stared at him, marveling his beauty. The way the sun illuminated the gold and emerald streaks in his eyes. His hair that was already a bit too long for his liking and fell into his forehead. The gloriously full lips you loved so much. How could you have ever mistaken your captors for your mate?

"How did you find me?", you finally asked with a hoarse voice.

"I felt the bond". Azriel nearly choked on his words. "That last tug – and then it went dark and I thought I had lost you". A tear rolled down his cheek and you tightened your grasp around his waist. "We searched the steppes for you, but there was nothing. And then, last night... my shadows called out to me. Across the entire court". The darkness singing a song to you, the thing in the night. You hadn't made it up.

You stared at him in awe. "How?". They never strayed far from him.

"I send them into every corner of Prythian and... it had been so long and I didn't think they'd find you. But then they were called to where they came from". He dropped his face onto the crown of your head and pressed a kiss to it.

"It was so dark in there". Your breath hitched at the thought of the cell. Lightly, you rubbed over the scabs at your wrists behind his back. "And I was so alone. Until I wasn't"

"What do you mean?"

"Something was there - it... it watched me. And then it turned into something else. And sang me to sleep." Realization hit you. "I think that were your shadows".

"Was that... was that what it was like for you as well? When you were in that cell? I thought about you every second, how you spent your childhood in there and..." He frowned.

His gaze was very far away, centuries ago. "It was the same. Only that nobody came for me". HIs eyes met yours and turned soft at the pain that was painted on your face. "I'll tell you all about it. In a while, when you feel better".

You laid your head onto his shoulders again and held onto him. You weren't quite sure who was comforting who now. Maybe you found solace in each other, through the hardhips you had shared.

But there was something else you shared. Someone.

You drew back slightly and locked eyes with him again. "I was so scared, Az. I thought I'd never see you again". You grasped his hand and laid it on your stomach. The anxiety you had felt the morning you had found out about the pregnancy was all gone. "I thought I'd die and you'd never even know that you are a dad".

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"That day, Madja came to see me and told me. That's why I went to the steppes, to free my head and think before telling you". Tears ran down your cheeks again now. "I wish I had just stayed home and wited for you to return", you weeped.

"You're pregnant?" There were tears pooling in his eyes as well. "My Y/N. My mate. Thinking I had lost you was the worst I've ever felt. But to think I could've lost both of you, without even knowing...". Azriel broke off and pulled you into a tight hug, his hands shaking.

He took your face in his hands and kissed away the tears.

"Are you happy, Az?". Your voice was barely a whisper.

"I couldn't be happier now that I have you back. And I couldn't be happier about our baby". Azriel's lips met yours in a soft caress. He tasted like home.

You didn't leave the bed all day. You stayed with him, curled underneath the covers. Azriel kissed away the pain and held your hand when Madja came to check on the baby and your head. You both were healthy, thank the Mother. And when Madja was gone, Azriel wrapped you in his arms and wings and never let go. He didn't urge you to talk any more about what had happened. Maybe the frail wisps of midnight air that circled around you now had told him everything already.

"I will kill them for what they did to you", Azriel whispered after he had made love to you slowly. Your naked limbs were still tangled with his, his entire body splayed over you, as if shielding you from the outside world.

Your breath hitched in your chest and Azriel planted a soft kiss on your jaw.

"No". His entire body turned rigid and he rolled off you without letting go.

"Why no? Y/N, I can't let them live after what they did", he murmured, kissing up your cheek, "I wasn't there to protect you. This is the only way I can make up for what happened".

Your hug around him grew tighter. "It's not your fault. I reacted too late. There is no debt to pay me, Az. And even if there was, you would've paid it back the moment you brought me home". Your hands threaded into his hair.

Azriel buried his face in your neck and his shadows stroked your cheek. "Please. I will never forgive myself for leaving you both unprotected. Please let me make it up to you. To the baby. If you were any other male's mate, if you were Cassian's mate or Rhys's they wouldn't have done this to you. It's because of me".

He meant it. Your heart dropped at the realization. He thought he was responsible.

"It's not your fault, none of this"

He wanted to interrupt you, but you didn't let him. "Not for this and not for what they did to you as a child. I don't want you to kill them for me. At least not only for me. I want you to kill them for what they did to you as well"

He stilled for a moment and then nodded slowly. "I can live with that".

"Good". You closed your eyes and soaked up his warmth. There was no other way you wanted to spend your future with him. You'd die a happy death in a thousand years if all you did until then was lay in bed next to your mate.

A wisp of air circled around your wrist, darted over chest and pooled over your stomach where it stayed, humming.

"It's yours now", Azriel murmured into your hair, "that's the one that found you. It told me it won't leave your side again".

Your fingers threaded through the shadowy tendrils and you could've sworn they purred at your touch.

"And I will also never leave your side", he whispered before his lips met yours.

[whos-the-seme]

okay but I kinda need read a fic where Shen Yuan is wife plotted (AGAIN) by some random papapa plant (dammit Airplane--) and he basically falls into a floating coma or something. on a hunt for some rare herbs with liu qingge, he's lured by the sound of his Binghe's (his lost little lamb) voice and ends up ensnared.

okay, imagine that he's being held high in the air by these vines, just asleep, and nothing can wake him, even after liu qingge cuts the monster plant down to get him. he's just sleeping, rosy-cheeked, unwakeable.

peak lords panic, and start trying to figure it out what this rare plant is. sqh wracks his brain somewhat and somewhat remembers this plot line.

they come to the conclusion that its the everlasting dreams flower or some shit. basically traps the victim in their dreams while it sucks out their qi until the person dies of dehydration/starvation or qi loss, whichever kills them first (sometimes, its not the latter, and if the person is a cultivator, they can last a while before their qi is fully drained enough that they can no longer practice inedia but also haven't died yet). meanwhile, the person won't even care because their dreams are so sweet, that they don't want to leave.

the only way to cure it? true love's song. someone who truly knows and loves the sleeper needs to sing something from the heart, and if it's pure enough or something, it can pierce through the pleasant dreams of the person and wake them up. yqy and lqg instantly become flustered, but both of them can't help but secretly wonder how it would feel to have Xiao jiu/shen-shixiong wake up at their song.

they confer with the rest of the peak lords a little outside of shen yuan's resting rooms on the Qian Cao peak, and yqy decides to sing a little lullaby he used to sing to Xiao jiu when they were still on the streets. he goes in, his voice is a steady but a bit nervous, but he croons that shit out. airplane can't believe his fucking ears. yqy could honestly be an idol its not fair wtf-- only, sqh knows he can't dance to save his fucking life, so.

when yqy finishes, he waits, but his heart sinks when Xiao jiu doesn't so much as stir. he hurries out of the room but sqh notices how the tips of his ears are red in embarrassment. of course, even when he still had his memory, Xiao jiu wanted nothing to do with him, why did he think it would change now, he just--

lqj goes in next. he murmurs a song that he constantly hears sqq sometimes strumming on his guqin, thinking that means sqq must love the song. he's not sure what else he can do, he doesn't know how to sing from the heart, but the feelings he has for his shixiong... he has to at least try to wake him.

he doesn't wake. lqj walks out in defeat.

airplane who has been wracking his brain all this time because he was trying to think of requirements for awakening so he wasn't paying attention suddenly jumps up. he doesn't mind the startled glances that the other peak lords give him.

he just remembered!

the song didn't have to be a romantic song or anything. the love for the sleeper didn't have to be romantic love, at all! he remembered this plot line that he added about binghe trying to wake one of his wives, but it was one of the wives' sisters that woke her, because she truly loved her sister deeply. causing binghe to realize that his love was becoming shallow, in that it wasn't enough anymore or blah blah blah. he scrapped that plot line and that plant after he got a ton of bad reviews for even suggestion that lbh's love (pillar) wasn't big enough and so he had lbh fix it with papapa, but whatever!

he shivered.

anyway, the story has been so warped over time that its only told that it has to be a romantic lover. but it didn't have to be.

he had an idea. he loved Shen Yuan! despite the rocky start, their shared transmigration and experiences led them to form a closer relationship, and Shen Yuan was his best friend. he knew him wholly, both in his bitchiness of Cucumber-bro of their old lives, and in the snarky-masquerading-as-pretentious SQQ he was in their new lives. He knew him as a whole of Shen Yuan, not as Xiao Jiu, or as the original goods.

and also, both he and Shen Yuan had discovered they both liked some similar songs during one of their weekly private meetings a few weeks ago, while Shen Yuan was there under the guise of planning their eventual escapes, but was actually just drinking up all his wine and ransacking his snacks.

he's got this! (he hopes.) (he would quite not like his bro to die from an unwakeable coma.)

confidently, with incredulous stares following him, he walks into the room and sits at shen yuan's bedside. and proceeded to sing, as smoothly as he could, a vocaloid love song. if nothing else, it might shock Shen Yuan awake to hear a random ass vocaloid song in his dreams. the lyrics are actually pretty sweet and soft, but he can't stop imagining the music behind it, making it funnier than it should be to sing it.

[Shen Yuan, whose dreamscape has become completely synchronized to his current living conditions and so he dreams of the serene bamboo hut: *sitting at his table with binghe pouring him more tea* *sudden hatsune fucking miku disturbing the atmosphere*

Shen Yuan: 👁️👄👁️]

while he tries not to giggle as the song comes to an end, the stares of the other peak lords boring into his back from the doorway (he can just hear them thinking, "yqy and lqg couldn't wake him up but you think you can?" but maybe that's just his imagination. or maybe they think the song is shitty, what does he know--), shen yuan's eyes flutter open.

airplane, who didn't think this would actually actually work (though he hoped), gapes at him. Shen Yuan, eyes half lidded from sleep, gazes back.

"uh..."

"The everlasting dreams flower, really? That was a really good plot line, can't believe you, ah," Shen Yuan yawns, "dropped it in favor of more papapa as always, you shitty author." He can't catch a break. Why did he wake this guy up again?

"he's awake!?" multiple voices cry out.

THUMP. yqy has fainted.

they both have forgotten their audience. liu qingge has goes outside to punch a tree. the other peak lords are in various states of disarray, disbelief, and discomfort. liu minyan has appeared out of nowhere to take notes. mu qingfāng rolls his eyes and comes in to check shen-shenanigans's meridians.

"Can't believed that shit worked, honestly," Shen Yuan says, eyeing one of the older disciples try to drag YQY to a cot. he is starting to rouse. "hatsune miku, really?"

"aw! well now you know how deeply and purely I love you, shixiong!"

THUMP. YQY has fainted again.

more sounds of breaking trees from outside. mu qingfāng warily calls out a warning to avoid his good medicinal trees, thanks.

after a while of conversation, with eyes closing a bit once more, from exhaustion, rather than the plant poison, Shen Yuan gives Shang Qinghua a small smile. As his eyes flutter shut again, he says, "I love you too, bro."

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out