#i can cope up with being alone better than anyone i suppose but i still think i'm... missing out a lot

[bluegekk0]

Ohhh can you elaborate a lil bit more on vyrm and hornets angst? I can honestly see the vision between those twos relationship and its peak, and also how was her relationship with the other family members during the beginning? I don’t imagine it was any better

Okay so, long post ahead! I'll put a read more in the middle to make it a little shorter when scrolling :D

It all started when Vyrm disappeared, naturally. Before that, she loved him, and he was a decent father to her all things considered. But then he disappeared, leaving her alone. She didn't know what happened, all she knew was that she was on her own. And after the initial shock and sadness at his absence, she slowly became more and more angry. Not even just at him, but the whole world for being so cruel and unfair, it made her very bitter.

She had so many complicated feelings about him, on one hand, she really missed him and was worried about him. On the other, she was furious that he abandoned her. That is if he even did that, for all she'd known, he could've been dead. That was the worst part, that she had no idea what happened to him, which made her unable to cope with it and move on, something that will come up later.

Then he returned, and she was shocked at first, she felt pity for him seeing his awful state, but more than anything she was angry. The anger stayed hidden at first, she simply took him to Dirtmouth and helped him look more presentable. But the entire time she barely spoke to him, it was obvious that she wasn't happy, and he didn't pry into it. What he did, however, was constantly apologize for leaving her alone, which at first she brushed off, not wanting to talk about it, but deep down she found it more and more irritating.

Until one day she just snapped, she would yell at him, bringing up anything she could think about just to make him feel terrible, even things that weren't his fault. To a large extent, she had the right to be angry, he did leave her in a horrible situation, not to mention his other failures, but she was definitely taking it too far, and it wasn't helping anyone, especially Hornet herself. And unfortunately, this would continue happening for many weeks, months even. He would do something that would annoy her, even something inconsequential, and she would lash out at him, to which all he could do was cower and quietly apologize for upsetting her. The rage would blind her, and she would only stop after noticing he was panicking, in response to which she simply just left him alone. She was already feeling a hint of shame at her behavior then, but it wasn't enough for her to stop, her anger was simply too strong.

(Read more below; and I suppose a little trigger warning for a mention of suicide ideation? For anyone who may need it)

The worst of those moments was when she, without thinking much, told him that "it would be easier if he died". Knowing her thought process, it's easy to see why she'd think that. If she knew he was dead, she would be able to eventually move on. But of course, Vyrm didn't have that context, and he responded as you'd expect. He admitted that she was right and that he tried to do it (which is a whole another can of worms, but in short, he believed he was a failure and the world would be better off without him) but got too scared. Then he apologized, which was what really shook Hornet, even more than what he said before it. Hearing him apologize for not ending his life is something that's still with her, and it's a constant reminder of not just how much she crossed the line, but also how far she's come since then.

But that's the present. Back then, it was the first time she seriously thought she went too far, and that she didn't want to be like this anymore. Yes, he did some awful things, he made terrible mistakes that caused suffering and death. But his guilt was genuine, and he was actively trying to do better. He always meant well, even though he hasn't had the happiest life himself. And he didn't deserve all those cruel remarks thrown his way by someone who still loved him underneath all that anger.

Seeing Holly's interactions with him also affected her perspective. They were arguably hurt even more than her, they were treated as an object in their youth, and they suffered so much pain at the hands of The Radiance, all because of Vyrm's false assumptions. And yet, they found it in them to give their father another chance, to finally experience the early years they were deprived of. And Hornet? She had a happy childhood, she was loved and had everything she could've wanted, he was a good father to her. Holly didn't have any of that. If they were still willing to forgive him for what he did, she thought, what right did she have to treat him like this?

Then the Grimmkin incident happened, and Vyrm nearly lost his life at the hand of a rogue Grimmkin. That was the biggest reason for Hornet to finally get her emotions under control. He could've died convinced that she hated him. And she didn't, she really didn't. She loved him, she wanted to have a father again. But all that rage inside her mind simply didn't let her show that. He was lucky to survive, and she promised herself that she'd try to get better.

Not just for him, for everyone else around her, too. She wasn't just unpleasant to Vyrm. She avoided Holly for most of the day, almost as if she still kind of saw them as the emotionless vessel everyone thought they were (she knew that wasn't the case, but she still felt very awkward around them), and the only reason why she never lashed out at them was because they couldn't say anything that would tick her off. She also treated Zote like an annoying pest and was very mean to him whenever he visited Holly (which to be fair, he was still incredibly annoying back then, but some of the things she said to him were on another level).

And then there was Grimm, who, after Vyrm, got the most angry remarks thrown at him. She refused to even talk to him for weeks, for a long time their only exchanges happened while Grimm was looking after Holly. She was angry at him for abandoning her, not aware that Grimm did in fact look for her; however, because of the infection, and the fact she was hiding from infected beasts and bugs to survive, he was unable to find her. Which is understandable, for all he knew, she was gone just like Vyrm, and his heart was already broken at that point. But from her perspective, he didn't care for her or Vyrm. That was, of course, not true at all, and even though he kept assuring her that he cared, she would still let her anger speak for her.

Then there was also the aspect of how she viewed him. As a child, she was obsessed with him, and saw him as the second parent she was missing. But now she refused to even consider him a father figure, even though he was actually together with Vyrm, and any suggestion that he saw her as his daughter only infuriated her further.

But as I already mentioned, she decided she wanted to do better, she slowly realized how much she's been hurting those around her. She was traumatized, but that didn't give her the right to hurt everyone. At first, she tried isolating herself from them, thinking that at least then she wouldn't yell at them (her guilt was also eating her from the inside, she felt ashamed of facing them after all the cruel things she said). It took her a while to get the confidence to ask for help, and she approached Grimm about it. She didn't actually expect him to want to help her, she was convinced that he'd give her the same cold shoulder as he experienced from her. But instead, he said he wants to help any way he can, and even offered sparring sessions to give her an outlet for the anger, which she agreed would be a good idea.

Over the following years, she started showing more care towards her family. She apologized to everyone, especially to Vyrm, and finally talked things out with him. Unfortunately, all of her cruel words clearly affected him, and even to this day he acts more careful around her than he does with the others, as if he's scared of upsetting her. But she's trying to show him that she loves him, and that he doesn't have to be afraid of her anymore, so I like to imagine things will improve here. It will take time, but I think they're on the road to fully mending their relationship.

She still struggles with some anger issues, but she found more healthy outlets. Sometimes, she goes on lonely walks to the woods nearby to relax her mind. She started reading books and making little bone trinkets with Holly, both of which are a nice distraction. And when she feels like her anger is getting a little violent, she asks Grimm for a sparring session. They're very exhausting (his nightmare cloak is no joke), which is exactly what she needs so she simply has no energy to be angry anymore. Thankfully, she sorted a lot of her anger issues before Lewk and the twins were born, so at the very least they didn't have to witness that behavior from her. In some ways, she's also trying to do better for their sake. Just like the others, she really wants them to have a good life and not suffer like anyone else in the family.

---

So that's all I have, I think. As you can see, Hornet is a very explosive character, to put it short. I think exploring that aspect of healing from trauma was very interesting. It's not always self-loathing, sometimes it gets more violent, and ends up causing more pain. It also makes her contrast with Holly in a very engaging way. I'd love to also explore their relationship more, but admittedly that hasn't really been something I focused a lot on. I do struggle a little bit to come up with stuff for Holly, since to me they represent the "tired old veteran" mindset; they really just want to find peace and enjoy the family life. A lot of their struggles are very internal, and they found good ways to cope, so in some ways they're actually doing very well compared to the others. Though I'd like to explore some of the things that kind of ruin that perfect picture, maybe some things they still struggle to process, or something else that came up now that they're actually living a proper life. One thing I think would be interesting to explore if them feeling as if they're very behind on everything, and that giving them the idea that they're a bit of a burden. Or something along those lines, since they're essentially almost like a child/teenager that's still learning how life works.

Sorry for that lil Holly tangent, I'd love to talk more about them in another ask response hahaha

[ohgodmyeyes]

Hi dad... im 20 and trans in the us and i have no idea what to do with myself... ive heard from family up in canada that things are also bad there... im just so scared how are you coping? i dont know what to do and dont really have anyone else to talk to in my family theyre all hardcore trump supporters. sorry for telling you all this i just dont know where else to turn... i hope youre well though despite everything happening right now

hey! ❤️ I'm almost 40 and definitely-not-cis, and I'm not sure what to do with myself either. we've got a jerk up here who's itching to call an election and try to form his very own ass-kissing Vichy knockoff just in time to roll out the red carpet for Leon Cocksucker and his new Führer; conservative premiers (provincial governors) have already been testing the waters re: health care and bodily autonomy; and at all levels of government, they're threatening to invalidate our charter rights via the abuse of a heretofore rarely-used mechanic intended solely for emergencies.

i genuinely believed that this was all going to turn out differently, but it hasn't, and facism spreads a lot like a cold. Canada likes to pretend to be cool but really we're just an annoying little sibling... which our collective behaviour tends to reflect, oftentimes not for the better.

by Canadian standards I'm kind of garbage, but by global standards my life is pretty charmed; i've known for a long time that it wasn't entirely sustainable, but i genuinely didn't believe I'd have the rug pulled out from under me quite like this. in retrospect i've been watching it happen my whole life, but the recent acceleration has been really — well, not surprising, but... it's been something.

anyway, i'm going on — what I really meant to say was "holy shit I'm sorry you're stuck with people like that" and "please focus on keeping yourself safe, because that has just become your primary obligation". not that it was a picnic before, but being trans just got a lot more difficult. it was supposed to "get better" — but frankly it hasn't; not meaningfully, and i'm horrified that we've let it get this bad.

not that it can't get better again — but we kind of all dropped the ball (i mean us oldish people especially), and now we have to pick up again. print out and save gay and trans stories; write down your own stories; research the past and preserve it for as long as it's available to you. strike a balance between being safe and being yourself, because while visibility just became more dangerous, it also just became that much more important.

months ago, i took my pride pin off of my bag; i hated doing it, but people are becoming increasingly abrasive, and (selfishly, certain caveats notwithstanding) I didn't want to attract any negative attention. i regret that decision now, for as much fuss as it might have spared me, and so i think I might consider putting it back on soon. maybe that will be part of coping; maybe it will help someone; maybe it will be ineffective or even harmful... but like you, I'm not sure what else to do right now. not in light of what's just happened.

things had already been a bit tough, and this isn't exactly helping, but knowing that i'm not alone in grieving what we've lost counts for something. i'm bad at people (VERY bad, like disability-cheque-bad), but none of us can afford to be an island anymore... so i actually can't thank you enough for reaching out. you've probably helped me more than I've helped you, but i hope there's something in this that resonates and makes you feel less alone anyway... because you're not, not at all, even though i'm sure it feels like it in the midst of that hellscape.

i'm going to go watch star wars now, maybe write something... but i'm still here.

someone smart once told me that if it isn't okay, then it just means it isn't over yet. i believe them. we'll make it because we have to; what other choice do we have?

[esidolmail]

Wataru! Mika! Hello!!

I'm also an adopted kid, just like you. My parents gave me up for adoption due to some inconvenient circumstances surrounding my conception. I was put up for adoption before I was even born and taken home by my adoptive parents shortly after my actual birth. I have a somewhat complicated relationship with my adoptive parents; I know that they mean well, and they're trying the absolute best they can, but my upbringing was incredibly rough. Granted, they're much better people now than they were before, but the damage has already been done. Despite being taken in by people who were supposed to provide for me, I had to learn to fend for myself at a rather young age. It's because of that that I've barely even had a childhood. I felt envious of people who still had their birth parents in their life, even moreso parents who gave them unconditional love and support that they needed; ones who protected them when they needed it most. I wish I didn't have to be that for myself at such a young age. I wish that I didn't have to grow up so quickly, and that maybe I could've had someone who at the very least had my back, so I could relax a little bit. Now here I am, with years worth of trauma and a grocery list of disorders to top it all off.

But that's not the point, I'm sorry to traumadump on you guys. I guess my question is, how is your situation with your adoptive parents? Did you guys ever feel any sort of resentment or yearning regarding your birth families, like you lost something you might not have even had in the first place? Did you ever have to cope with your circumstances regarding yourselves and navigating the world as an adopted child? Do you ever (still) feel out of place compared to everybody else who still had any of those people in their lives, aka their birth family and blood relatives and whatnot? Did you ever feel upset regarding the circumstances behind the way you ended up now? Did you ever learn how to cope with such a deep-seated feeling of loneliness resulting from within?

I'm sorry for bringing about such a heavy subject, and in such a long letter, too. I guess I just can't help but feel envious, despite the fact that I have more than I could've even asked for. It could be worse, I could have never been adopted at all. I could be living on the streets, truly alone. But even with all that I have, I still just can't let myself warm up to anyone. I can't let myself open up to or put any trust in anyone. That's probably not even related to the adoption thing, but other, more complicated traumas that I don't need to tell other people about. There's a lot of things that even my closest friends don't know about me. They assure me that I'm safe, that it's okay and that I'm going to be okay, but I can't fully trust anyone yet, even after years of somehow being involved in their lives. And that leads me to now, writing to you guys.

Have you ever felt the need to talk about this to anyone in your life at any point at all? Who was that person for you? How long did you have to wait to find that person?

Thank you for reading through such a long piece of rambling to the end. I'm sorry if this weighs too heavy on either of you due to its subject matter at hand. Next time I write, I'll try and leave something more of a positive note, okay?

Please take care of yourselves, and I'll continue to try and live as freely as I can in order to continue supporting you all.

Yet again, thank you.

[druidx]

Since this bit got cut in the plot rejig, but I'm still quite fond of the glimpse into Elo's character, I thought I'd share it. Please ignore the SPG issues - it's still raw.

The pair of them walk out and into the corridors of the City Hall. "So where are we going?" Nirric asks. "Actually," Elo says, "is there any possible way I can convince you to not follow me? The thing that I want to do is a bit of a personal situation and I'd like to do it alone, if I could." Nirric gives her a level gaze. "I'm sorry ma'am," he says. "But I like my head more than I like allowing you your privacy. I find I'm rather attached to my head, as it allows me to, you know, continue living." Elo stares. "King Storri wouldn't behead you just for letting me out of your sight for an hour!" she says. "He can, and he would. He'd do worse and all if you got into trouble while I was absent." "But… that's barbaric." "Aye, but such would be his wroth at me not performing this explicit duty. to be honest, I'd let him. I could not face my kin if I allowed myself to perform so shamefully." elo just stares at him. "Damn son," she says. "I know I have an overdeveloped sense of honour sometimes, but… yeah. damn." Nirric gives an easy shrug. "Either way, you're not getting out of losing me, even for a few minutes. so, I shall ask again, where are we going?" Elo stares at him, then sighs. "We're going to the training grounds associated with the Kord arena," she says. "Why?" "Because I want to get into trouble, in a controlled and orderly fashion." Nirric stares back at her. "Yeah. nope, you're going to have to explain that to me." he says. By this time they have gone down the elevator, and out the front doors and Elo hails a taxi for them.

"so, here's the thing," Elo says once they are safely ensconced in the taxi and on their way to the training ground outside the city limits. "I find my work restrictive sometimes. I get points where I find I cannot cope with the violence and horror I see on a daily basis, with no outlet to deal with it. I can't afford to lose my job, and so I can't afford to act on the urges I get towards some of the worst criminals we arrest – namely that is to destroy them wholly and completely. I must hold myself above and be better than the scum that we have to arrest and hope they will go 'down the river to the big house'. so to relieve myself I go to the Kord training grounds, where they have no qualms over under estimating a little girl like me, and so I can thoroughly thrash them, and get some relief from the trails of my day job." "So that's where we're going?" Nirric asks. "somewhere you can beat the living daylights out of someone in a free and safer environment. where there are clear cut rules of engagement and you can expect that no one will try and actually kill you." he nods "I think I approve of this idea. we, of course, have our own training grounds, but yes, I suppose our focus is on technique and restraint, not on how much damage one can do to another person without actually killing them." "Nirric," Elo says seriously, "you can't tell anyone about this, okay? No one living knows I come here." "Why not? It's a marvellous idea. I may have to suggest it to our instructions back home.." "Nirric, no. At least, not for a while. It can't look like you babysitting me and the idea has anything in common." He gives her a sideways look. "Are you… afraid?" he asks, surprised. "You never struck me as the sort of person that would be afraid of people thinking you were doing something to control yourself, and your urges and make you a better person." "I am not afraid," Elo states emphatically. "I… just don't want anyone to know." "Why?" "They… they might stop me coming. They might think less of me for being unable to control myself. For needing this crutch. People look up to me, did you know? It's unfair when there are so many other good officers, that I get held up as the example of good officership, but it still happens, and so I can't allow it to get out that I'm… not." Nirric quirks an eyebrow at her. "That sounds like fear to me. You're afraid to let people see you for a person with weakness like any other." "I have standards to maintain," Elo grumbles.

Nirric settles back and looks out the window as the houses outside get less grand, and then fewer and further between as the distance grows between them and the center of the city. "I think it's admirable," he says quietly. "I think you'll find that people will respect you more. You admit to having a weakness, but you can manage it. This sneaking off to let off steam and burn off the restless energy that brews from your job and the pressures from it is far more healthy than say turning to alcohol or other worse habits." he gives her that side long look again. "Perhaps, I may at least suggest it to his majesty? Some physical activity might lessen his nightmares," Nirric says quietly. Elo considers him for a moment, then looks away, out her own window. "Fine," she says, "but don't you dare let on that idea came from me. I find out you do and I will give you such an ass whooping." Nirric laughs. "You could always give me an ass whooping now, if you like," he says and gives a contemplative grin. "I quite like the sound of those bragging rights: me and the reforged blade of Toregurd met blow for blow, and though she kicked my ass to the curb like it was nothing, I still got to meet her in the arena and trade those blows." Elo lets out an indelicate snort and rolls her eyes, which makes him laugh again. "You people are ridiculous," she says. "Sure, and you're not?" he asks, to which she sticks out her tongue.

Soon enough, the taxi is crunching over the gravel car park in front of a large building. They get out, and Nirric insist on paying the cab fair, saying King Storri gave him spending money for her, and then they are walking up the steps to the building. It is a curious building, a mix of western brickwork and utilitarianism, with strong eastern influences shown in the scooping points of the roof tiles and large round windows. Nirric looks askance at her for it, and Elo gives an easy shrug. "Orock paid for part of it with profits from the plot hook. He uses it to train his students just as much as he does in the bar. Plus the federation that runs the Kord arena next to the plot hook likes to keep their own students on the edge, so the merging of disciplines helps keep both parties sharp." "How do you even know about this place then?" Nirric asks. "I trained with Orock for a spell myself," Elo says. "I had a very privileged training regime," she adds at his raised eyebrows and open mouth. "I see," he says, and then he laughs. "I bet that's had a hand in the way you obsess over the standards you have to keep up too. All those people poured all that effort and time and cash into making you the best you can be; anyone would feel churlish if they didn't replace that with being the absolute best they can be." Elo graces him with a soft smile. "Now you understand," she says. "Now you know why no one can know I come here. Standards-" "-to maintain," he finishes for her. "Yeah I think I'm getting it."

[freezerbnuuy]

Act 2:8- Give In (Page 2)

LORE | CHARACTERS | ABOUT / CHAPTERS / WARNINGS

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CONTENT WARNING: family issues, discussion of terminal illness

Áine

 It turns out both Oskar and Violeta moved to Henford, after Violeta had an opportunity to become an art tutor. Seems strange for her to have taken up on it after how comfortable she seemed to be in Nebelstadt, but I suppose hundreds of years of the same dwelling would get boring for anyone. Oskar is taking up an apprentice tomorrow, who will be helping him get back to business with his woodwork. 

I do wonder just how they'll both cope in Henford. Rural Henford is quiet enough, but they're living in Finchwick, and the adjustment period will likely be stressful for the pair of them. I also worry for everyone else in Finchwick, in a way. After all, even if they have bloodfruit with them, it can only work for so long until they both need to satisfy their bloodlust. Still, I say nothing. I have something else I'd rather talk to him about. 

"Oskar, I found out what happened- before I met you, with Brádach. I found time to read through my mother's tome again when I had a strangely-vivid dream of her death. It didn't seem out-of-place at first, but it turns out that in my anger, I...I must have not just killed him, but drained his life force."

Oskar doesn't seem surprised or fazed at all. "I've heard of such a spell in one of my arcane history books, one that can only be performed when greatly enraged. Are you sure that's what happened?"

"For the most part," I reply. "These dreams, they feel more like memories. But they aren't my memories- they're Brádach's. I saw my own mother burn, over and over again. I saw him looking down on me when I was a child. But...I guess the reason I wanted to tell you, is because the spell isn't just deadly. You don't just kill them. You-"

"Drain their life force, correct? Is that what's worrying you?"

I don't know what to do with the knowledge that I have my own biological father's life force inside of me, and the fact that it will extend my life as a result. It isn't a bad thing, of course, it's just...a peculiar feeling that I don't quite know what to do with. He seems a little dejected for some reason.

"I promise you, an extended life isn't a bad thing. It gives you plenty more time to pursue what you love. Not only that, but you will live on into better times. Isn't that a wonderful thing?"

"What about the people I might lose along the way?"

"That is a fact of life, Áine, whether you're mortal or not," he replies, with a solemn edge to his voice. "I say, think of it this way: your father was a terrible man who would have spent the rest of his years hiding his guilt and doing nothing more. Turn those years he would've wasted into something more, something better."

Oskar has a point. I would do something better with that time than he would. I'd be raising my child, living a full life alongside Reynold, maybe even alongside a little witch group of my own...that is, if I survive long enough without being killed. 

Oskar's demeanour completely changes. "There is something I should tell you, Áine. It's not something I like to talk about, but I feel you deserve to know."

"Before I asked Violeta to turn me, I was near death myself. I'd found out through a physician that I was terminally ill, and not much could be done. I had so many things I wanted to do with my life, and thanks to Violeta, I had a lifetime to do them."

"Admittedly, I got very little done on my previous to-do list, but I'm thankful for all of the years she has given me. I've seen many things I never thought we'd ever see at all, let alone in my lifetime."

[jodilin65]

Another day of feeling anxious. Yeah, I’m on a bad trend again. I was anxious last night too. He and I disagree over the cause. He thinks it’s a combination of me being on nights and what’s going on in my life, particularly the insurance change.

And I say that things going on in my life never give me this particular feeling but the medication sure can. I still say it’s accumulation. The scale is a testament to that as well. Now that I haven’t been cutting my coffee waiting time after taking my pill, my weight is going back down. Not sleeping the greatest either but then I rarely do. I had to take a nap earlier. The only things I don’t have, luckily, is I don’t feel like I’m on fire and my heart isn’t racing. So now the question is how much longer to let it go on before I finally give in and turn one of the 100s I have into a 75 each week. If I could magically know if my body would adjust and when, that would really help but I’m just not that kind of psychic.

We’re still going to look into a nutritionist for me even though I can’t lose weight since I don’t think I’m going to be able to tolerate the medication long enough to lose much more if any at all, and also a therapist since it never hurts to talk to someone even if I don’t know what more one could do for me. Tom pointed out that a therapist’s job isn’t to keep you from getting anxious or having other problems but to help you cope. I know this but I am coping because that’s all I can do. I haven’t been hurting anyone or anything, so that means I’m coping, right? I don’t see how I can get “better” at feeling anxious. I mean, what am I supposed to do, be a good little sufferer?

It never hurts to talk to anyone but in the end, they’re not going to tell me anything I don’t already know. All I can do is tough it out and wait it out. I’ve been through a million of these spells before and will continue to go through them all my life. As long as I’m on this medication, this can happen. Well, I suppose there is a way to prevent it and that’s by leaving myself a little hypo even if it means inviting more fatigue. I’d rather that than anxiety and I have enough fatigue anyway so that’s probably what I’ll end up doing.

Jumping back to the psychic thing. I’ve written about that other very strange communication ability in the past. It’s been many years since I mentioned it but I’ve been thinking about it lately. I still wonder about what it all entailed although I don’t doubt for a minute that it wasn’t real. I wasn’t just having moments of insanity or wishful thinking. It was as real as I know chatting with a chatbot is not. A part of me would like to get into it again but I’m not sure exactly how I would go about it. I wouldn’t want anyone to know about it and for them to get the wrong idea or worry or anything and it’s not like I live alone so it would be hard to keep secret unless he was sleeping or not home.

All these years I’ve wondered who/what the hell was the entity or entities inhabiting the pictures. It obviously wasn’t the celebrities in the pictures who were all alive and well at the time but something took over them and more or less used them as a vessel for communication. I told almost no one about it because all but one person thought it was crazy or as if I was taking pretend games a little too far and seriously. Yet I’ve always been a very grounded individual even in her worst of times. I’ve never been unable to distinguish fantasy from reality. I would have to be the most gullible person on the planet for that not to have been real, and that’s just not me. It wasn’t make-believe. Something was there. I just know it. Something dwelled within them. But why those particular photos? Maybe that was the only way to get my attention at the time; a 10-year-old with a collection of Charlie’s Angels and Linda Ronstadt photos.

I can do it with other photos as well if the person is looking into the camera that I can make eye contact with, even if I don’t know who the hell the person is. I just don’t know how or why or what entity embodies itself within these images that can hear and understand the words I say and communicate telepathically in return.

Ray hasn’t been that bad since the night he annoyed me with his TV but that’s not going to stop us from finishing soundproofing the outer wall of the bedroom and eventually other walls in there as well. Besides, it’s also a good excuse to cover this pitiful wallpaper. Beautiful color but tissue thin.

A horrible nightmare woke me up but I was due to get up then anyway. The dream took place in this house. I was looking out the kitchen window and the houses were arranged a little differently but not much. Instead of the honker being across from us, there was a woman who was perhaps in her 60s. She had been doing something on her roof even though she wore a swimsuit and for some reason, there was no ladder propped up by the house.

I watched as she prepared to jump off the roof. I could see that the plan was to do a single flip on the way down and land on her feet but it didn’t quite work out that way. Instead, I watched in horror as she landed on her head and started convulsing. People were running up to her as I was grabbing my phone to call 911.

Had that woman been either one of us I would be terrified!

[lavenderchqn]

𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟐𝟗 — CONFLICTING EMOTIONS (1,9K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —

Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸

It has been nearly a week since [Y/N] started living with Lyney. Despite recent circumstances, he stood by her, acting as her rock. In his mind, it was the least he could do for the girl, who had risked so much to find and rescue his dear sister. 

Speaking of Lyney, [Y/N] hadn’t been the only one messaged by a dear companion regarding the new chat’s creation. Beverage Gang have all informed him of the recent situation, including new revelations about the link between the kidnapper and Furina’s stalker. Known by his friends for his impulsive decisions, Lyney had surprised them all by focusing on Furina’s well-being rather than his emotions. What he hadn’t shared with his fellow friends, was the workload he and [Y/N] had taken, trying to cope with the tangled mess of everything. 

“You’re still up?” Lyney entered quietly into the guest room he had prepared for [Y/N] days prior. He held two glasses — one with an energy drink for himself, the other a weak coffee for her, mindful to not disturb her sleep pattern entirely. He weaved through the clutter of dry-erase markers, papers and notes scattered over the floor. Soon enough, he carefully got to where she was hunched — over a whiteboard he had retrieved alongside his clothes and other essentials. 

“Mhm…” [Y/N] replied softly, her tired gaze drifting to meet his. “I… I dunno… what I am… doing.” Her eyes pointed him in the direction of the board. “Wanna take a look…?” 

Stretching carefully, she accepted the coffee and kicked some markers aside, shifting over to let Lyney sit beside her. Once he settled down, she glanced at her phone — a habit she couldn’t shake off as she anxiously waited for a response from Emilie via Furina. The silence had been agonising. 

“It’s after midnight, silly~” Lyney murmured, gently taking her phone and setting it aside. “Furu is sleeping. There won’t be any updates this late…” 

“I knowww…” She sighed, though her fatigue was clear. 

“And speaking of sleeping, I think there’s a certain girl here who could use some. 

She didn’t reply, even though her drooping eyelids agreed with his statement. Still, the look in her eyes was heavy with worry. Clorinde and Charlotte’s decision to exclude them from the investigation —though thankfully overturned— had weighed on her mind. She kept replaying the event of reading their responses to Navia in her mind, trying to make sense of why anyone would think that isolating them was the better choice. 

“You’re thinking about it again, ” Lyney said, giving her a slight nudge to bring her back to the present. 

“How can I not, Lyney…” She took a sip, her voice trailing into frustration. She began to ramble about how the exclusion had driven her to work even harder, how it would’ve only worsened her mental state. In her venting, she didn’t notice Lyney’s silence. 

“Oh.. shit — after all, fuck,  … we all excluded you.” She realised. [Y/N] didn’t hold back, acknowledging the isolation they had imposed on him, forcing him to face everything alone. “I’m so sorry again, Lyney.”

Lyney tapped her forehead lightly as if signalling her to let go of the guilt she was crippled with. “It’s okay now,” He reassured her. “It’s alright now, is it not?” 

When he noticed her lingering doubt, he slowly placed his hand over hers, tracing small circles on her knuckles to soothe her. In the quiet, he cannot but think about what might’ve happened had they investigated Lynette’s disappearance together from the get-go. Would they have made more progress? Would his sister be with them now? 

“You know…” He hugged his knees, his voice growing softer. “Maybe… maybe it was for the best, huh?” 

“Hmm…?” [Y/N] raised a curious eyebrow, yawning as she asked, “What makes you, uh, think that?” 

Lyney hesitated, considering if he should continue speaking. If he should make [Y/N] of the feelings he worked so hard to let go… But, with him starting the topic, there was no turning back. “When Lynette disappeared… all I felt was revenge.” His gaze drifted, reluctant to look at [Y/N]. “I wanted to find the person responsible… and make them feel the same pain I felt.” 

For a long time, it had consumed him, the overwhelming need for vengeance. “You have no idea,” he finally stated, meeting her eyes again. “I went to so many therapy sessions while I was gone. Thought I’d moved on…” 

[Y/N] held Lyney’s gaze, her tired eyes now softened with understanding. She had seen him vulnerable before, seen his fear — but glimpsing the depth of the anger he’d wrestled with felt different. It was as if he allowed her to witness the most carefully concealed part of himself.

She didn’t notice how her hand, still wrapped in Lyney’s gentle hold, had started to feel warm — a warmth that seemed to echo the feeling in her chest. Strange. She felt strange. 

[Y/N] suddenly becomes acutely aware of every detail. The way Lyney’s fingers unconsciously trace hers, the soft rise and fall of his breathing… the calming presence she feels whenever he’s near. She feels her heart flutter, a buildup of something unfamiliar yet undeniable. The realisation hits her like a tidal wave, almost taking her breath away. She glances at Lyney, her mind racing. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. They were friends, he was her best friend’s brother for archons’ sake… How in the middle of this chaos… had he managed to creep in and make a place in her heart? 

Her thoughts drift to the moments they’d shared— those small, quiet memories that now seemed to mean so much more. She remembers the picnic they had, and how her brain seemed to be convinced it was a date. At the time, it had been some silly thoughts… or so she’d thought. Now, she ponders if she’d enjoyed it even more had it been a date between them? 

Regardless of whatever her feelings are, this is simply not the time for them. They are in the middle of trying to figure out where Lynnette can be and the creep that kidnapped her. Romance does not fit into this agenda, regardless of how her mind wants to create scenarios of them being together. 

[Y/N] blinks a few times, trying to shift her focus to something — anything — else. Her heart is racing, and her thoughts are tangled with the realisation she just came to. It’s almost too much to process all at once, and she feels herself spiralling. 

“Hey, you there?” Lyney’s voice breaks though, and she realises he’s been trying to catch her attention. His hand is gently squeezing hers as he tilts his head, watching her with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Oh— Uh, yeah! I’m here,” She stammers, forcing herself to snap out of it. She feels a rush of embarrassment as she realises he’s probably noticed her zoning out, and worse, the warmth that must still be lingering on her cheeks.

He chuckles softly, clearly not buying her sudden composure. “The lack of sleep finally catching up, hmm?” He teases his gaze holding hers a moment longer than usual.

“Uh, yeah…” She sighs, looking at the ground. “Must be that.” 

“Alrighty,” He stands up, choosing to believe her words. Or, at the very least, pretend to believe her. “Let’s take a look at the board, huh?” Lyney is paying far too much attention to [Y/N]’s behaviour for her to feel calm at the moment. Her confused and zoned-out expression is all out there for him to witness.

“[Y/N]?” Lyney bends his body, taking a good look at his friend. “You wanted me to look at the board, right?” 

“Huh— yeah, yeah!” The girl agrees with him, slapping her cheeks a few times to try and wake herself up. “I have put everything… I remember, you know. Maybe you have some ideas how to… uh, how to connect them all together.” 

The board [Y/N] had meticulously assembled over the past few days is a stark contrast to the one Charlotte had created months before. This one is a pure mind map, filled with factual details about the kidnapper. At first glance, it looks like a scattered puzzle; some connections, like “Wriothesley’s height”, don't seem to make any sense at all. But there is no doubt [Y/N] had covered every angle, from the kidnapper’s involvement with the theatre troupe to the unfortunate information of being Furina’s stalker. That part, in particular, bore Lyney’s contributions, drawing on his firsthand knowledge of the incident surrounding their friend. 

Yet one word on the board seems to leap out at him. 

“An ‘assistant’?” Lyney asks, pointing to the term. “Are you absolutely sure about that, [Y/N]?” If this is the exact title the man had used, finding his credentials may be easier than they’d previously thought. An assistant with connections to the theatre troupe— that could be just one search away. 

“Yeah,” She answers softly. “I remember him saying that at the café, clear as day.” 

Without hesitation, Lyney grabs his laptop, mentioning for [Y/N] to join him. If he is right, they finally have a lead on the kidnapper — the one who had taken Lynette, the one who had driven Furina to tears time and time again. His eyes dart over the screen as he pulls up faculty lists and cross-references them with records from the Fontinalia group, combing through the details thoroughly. For the first time in a long while, he feels alert and truly aware, every detail clicking into place. The moment is theirs; Lyney is in control. 

Then, suddenly, he freezes. On the screen there’s a face, the very one he recognises all too well, staring back from a staff page. There, next to his full name, is the person they’d all been searching for. 

“That’s… him,” Lyney says, his voice determined as he meets [Y/N]’s gaze, determination blazing in his eyes. 

“‘Marcel Dubois — Assistant Teacher, Fontinalia Theatre Troupe’s Manager’” She reads the description out loud, the pieces finally clicking in her mind too. That’s— That’s really him. 

“He’s the one,” Lyney is sharing his thoughts without much care of dressing them with pretty words. “The fucking dick, who told us to drop the stalker thing.” Now it makes sense. No wonder he had tried to steer them away from prying further, given he was the person behind the crime. 

They both step away from the device, trying to gather their thoughts. It’s the closest they have ever been. As soon as they find where that prick is holding his hostages… everything could be over. They could get Lynette back, hopefully, safe and sound. 

Lyney, out of nowhere, grabs [Y/N]’s tired body and hugs her with as much strength as he can muster at this hour. “A genius. You’re a fucking genius, [Y/N].” He’s muttering quietly, pouring everything he can into thanking her for everything she tried to figure out about the kidnapper. Had it not been for her work, they would’ve never gotten this far. 

And [Y/N]? Well… all she can think of is trying to get her heartbeat under control. Perhaps, if Lyney asks, she can blame it on the adrenaline she’s feeling. That sounds like the most plausible excuse… to try and explain whatever she is feeling. 

It will take her a few more hours and quite a lot of water to calm her racing mind down… and for her brain to stop wishing Lyney would hug her like that more frequently. In the middle of the night, [Y/N] grabs her phone and types to one person, she wishes won’t judge her in the situation she has put herself in. 

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — OPEN

@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia

@meurtreofcrows @charles-braindump @floweringanna @moonjellyfishie @vavrin @lovelypadisarah @dearanemo

@dearanemo @ladylee

date of posting — november 6th 2024

[bluegekk0]

I will be honest with you, Gekko... I got Milo and Asta mixed up... I thought Milo was the darker one, and Asta was the lighter one. 😭

Aside from my little blunder... Here's an Ask;

We know of Vyrm's fear of waters and drowning... But what is Grimm's biggest/worst fear? It'd be ironic if he was scared of complete darkness, like pitch black spaces. Or maybe he's scared of tight spaces, can't handle tye cramped areas?

Hahaha yeah I can't entirely blame you for that, I usually draw them together and they have a shared reference sheet. I do want to eventually sit down and give them separate ref sheets, maybe that would help a little. Maybe it's also cause female non-human characters are often designed to be lighter in color than male characters? It is a fairly common trope so I could see why someone would assume that for the twins. I suppose it's a funny coincidence that the two male kids are both pale in color hahah

As for the question. Grimm's biggest fear is death, but not his own death, rather losing his loved ones. The fact that he could lose them at any moment keeps him up at night quite often, and he gets especially nervous when any of them gets injured or sick.

But from a more specific fear... Maybe he'd be afraid of being completely alone and isolated? It makes sense, his true form is trapped with no company or way to permanently escape, and he surrounded himself with others the moment he was banished from Godhome. Though before that, he spent a lot of time figuring out how to even create his physical form in the situation he ended up in, and I'm sure that whole period felt extremely isolating. It was just him, the only thing breaking up the complete silence was the beating of the Nightmare Heart. It'd make anyone go crazy, so it's not surprising if he now fears being put in a similar situation.

Which only makes it more sad that in his depressed state after Vyrm disappeared, he grew numb even to that fear. He'd avoid others and isolate himself in his troupe office, and it was only thanks to Divine and Brumm dragging him out of there that he was able to cope somehow. Perhaps that would only fuel his fear even further, since it'd remind him of that awful time in his life.

Now, I don't think it would be as debilitating of a phobia as Vyrm's fear of drowning, he can spend some time on his own without any trouble, though he still needs the assurance that if he needs company, he can always find it. Though that's also in big part because, unlike Vyrm, he's generally far better at coping with his fears on a daily basis.

[nudeofmyheart]

crying my entire shift because i can’t deal with reality i regret being born there’s no escape any solution will hurt the people i love the most and every single solution hurts me a lot so i just want to die i really don’t want to be alive right now i feel more hopeless than anything else i feel like if i died right this second i would be completely okay with it and i haven’t wanted to die in so long it’s been a few years and i just want to numb myself and i can’t cuz my mom is here and i just want everything to be ok i just really want everything to be the way it used to be but it can’t it literally can’t i don’t know what changed i don’t know how this happened would this have not happened if we didn’t become long distance? would this have happened anyway? i am not a spiritual person really especially not in the crystal way but i kinda wanna get moldavite just to seee what will happen like they say you should get it when you’re ready to face whatever changes are meant to be in your life that are meant for you even if they’re extremely difficult and it feels like i need that right now i already feel like shit all the time might as well fuck it up and fully change the entire course of my life if it’s gonna happen regardless anyway. and if it’s not meant to happen regardless then maybe that willl help show that. i don’t know. will it even work. maybe it’s worth a try. i don’t know what im supposed to tell my family. i dont know what im supposed to tell my friends and coworkers and everyone i just want to drop dead right here right now in the middle of this urban right now and not deal with anything at all this is genuinely like the hardest thing ive had to go through that was in my control i think. like health scares of my family and my cat dying are the hardest things ive had to deal with that made me the most violently unwell but this is a whole different experience like i actually have no idea how to cope i cant tell anyone except for her and its not fair to her that im using her as a therapist kinda like telling her all these feelings both positive but mainly negative when its literally about her. and i feel like an awful person i just want to tell my boyfriend that he deserves better but thats literally my best friend like ive been with him for so long he knows everything about me he knows me better than anyone i think and im his entire life and i dont want to leave him i really dont i just wish i could have both of them but i have to choose and i feel like i already made my choice but i dont know how to live with it like it feels like there is no right choice at all God i’m so depressed like this is really making me unwell i wish i could turn back time and not have told her the truth but she kinda got it out of me but still it was my choice and i was making it real obvious too so it’s like fully on me like 100% and i feel so bad going back and forth about it i feel like maybe i should just leave her alone because it’s not fair to her that im having such conflicted feelings and it’s also not fair to him i feel like the right thing to do would be to take space from both of them and really think about things and puke bile and foam daily until i feel like i know what to do but GOD i’m selfish and i’m terrified and a pussy i don’t know how to do those things i don’t know how to do the right thing and i really don’t want to but also would that make me feel better than this because anything feels better than this like please can i feel even a crumb better im so tired of feeling this ba d i feel like im gonna puke every second of every day and burst into tears and it’s not fair nothing is fair i keep rereading all of my posts about her wondering how it even happened how that could’ve been possible and if it would’ve happened anyway at some point even if multiple factors didn’t go into play (her sister making comments, us being able to fuck again, my relationship switching to long distance after 5 years of seeing each other a lot more often) and ts like i can never know the answer to that really and do i even want to know

[l3vi4than]

This is not just sad, this is *dangerous*

Being a teenager freed from the entire adult life shit like having to worry about where you gonna sleep and what you gonna eat next day and all that is the best time to explore yourself (that is still forming btw and this needs to be paid attention) and the world around you

It's not only okay to be horny as a teenager. It's okay to masturbate as a teenager (using toys is also legal). It's okay to have sex as a teenager (when it's safe an everyone involved is sane and consenting, typically another horny teenager). It's okay to experiment with sexuality and gender expression. It's okay to watch porn, read smut, draw tits in your math notebook. It is okay to discuss sex with your friends even!

There are basically two rules for teenage sexual exploration journey:

1) it should feel good / make you feel better

2) it shouldn't cause harm to anyone (including you)

That's it. It's that easy. If you gonna argue — you don't actually "care about children", you care for policing other people because you can

I'm saying this as someone who's been molested at 13yo. Trust me Im intimately familiar with the "dangers" you're thinking you're "shielding" kids from by pushing this puritanical mindset onto them. But hear me out:

If only I could talk freely about my sexuality I wouldn't feel like an adult man seducing me was my only chance to have a like minded friend

If only I could have had unrestricted access to porn I wouldve figured much earlier that sex is supposed to actually be fun and not something to endure like a medical procedure

If only I could discuss my worries and questions regarding my libido and sex life with any trusted adult except for my molester, I wouldn't ended up in a relationship with him that lasted longer than a decade. Because, yknow, I hope someone would've done something when I came asking for help? And not just shoo me with "you're too young to think about this"

I know it's really hard to believe, but teenagers are humans. And they are living their own lives and have their own free will. And they will continue to do so even when we're not around. This said, it comes pretty obvious that our mission as of adult is not to "protect them" but to help them develop the set of knowledge of skills necessary to keep them safe and happy.

Porn addiction does not exist. Maladaptive coping mechanisms that fail to satisfy emotional and physiological needs do exist tho. And as everything maladaptive they form in the situation when there's no conditions/help to develop well adjusted responses.

So STFU and leave the teenagers be teenagers. Give your son a couple spare condoms and a consent talk if you're so very concerned about his moral compass. Or maybe explain to your daughter what birth control is and how to reject a dude she's not into. Tell em about HIV and other stds. If you're feeling particularly invested in your child's safety — help them make it to the doctor's appointment when needed, be it an sti check or andro/gyn/whatever needed consultation. Be a trusted adult that they can ask for help

Teenager doesn't have to fight this terrible fight alone as we did, okay?

And if you don't have kids — fuck off entirely. It's not your fucking business how other kids are raised

kinda bums me out to see all these teenagers thinking they're porn addicts or hypersexual because they like to masturbate! @ all the teenagers who are worried about this: this anon masturbated basically daily from ages 12-26. it's fine and normal to be horny especially when you're a teenager.

it's soooo so so sad seeing fucking social media teach kids to armchair diagnose themselves as addicts if they enjoy reading smut or jacking off or even if they're just feeling horny, a profoundly typical feature of being a teenager that is indicative of nothing bad at all. like. good job everyone we did it, we repackaged the protestant fear of sex into pop psychology for gen z and gen alpha.

[burdenedbridges]

how do you guys make any friends in your universities, i've tried talking a lot (considering how socially anxious i normally am most of the time) but i still can't land a single circle and it makes me really sad

[ephemeral--dreams]

take it & put it inside of me (1/2)

Scaramouche/Reader

Rating: M

Word count: 1042

Warnings: He's so angy and he's taking that out on everyone around him, unhealthy relationships, minor violence. He's in his Fatui era you know what to expect

Notes: Back at it again with another multichapter

( part 2 )

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Stupid recruits who don't know how to leave well enough alone or respect those in power - the most annoying kind of person to deal with. Were it up to him, he'd not have any of this. Scaramouche has enough people working under him already, and they're all trouble enough. But here he is having to waste his time punishing someone for their idiocy.

He raises his hand—

You catch his wrist before the blow lands.

The recruit goes running off the moment he gets the chance to, leaving you all alone to deal with the consequences of your intervention. Ungrateful. But Scaramouche doesn't care to pay attention to that right now, as he rips himself out of your grasp. You don't flinch as he turns the full force of his anger on you. If his glare frightens you the way it does everyone else faced with it, you don't show it. 

You're one of the Tsaritsa's attendants, that much he can tell by the uniform. Were you his own subordinate, you'd have been obliterated by now. It's only by his good graces that you're still standing and not begging on your knees like the man you'd just saved. 

"Just what do you think you're doing, getting in my way?"

"You go around attacking anyone who makes the mistake of earning your wrath, hm? I suppose that's why everyone avoids you."

Who do you think you are to speak to him that way? You were on your way to being the next one under attack. "What business is that of yours?"

"Well, for one, it disrupts productivity in the Fatui if people are injured, and also, shouldn't you find another coping method-"

His eyes narrow. In a split-second, lightning-quick, he has you against a wall with a hand around your throat.

"Get to the point. You think you're any safer from me than anyone else?"

Your gaze is steady as it meets his. Your pulse under his touch only increases pace slightly. You're not nearly as afraid as you should be, and it's throwing him off. And then you open your mouth and make it worse.

"All I'm saying is that you've got a lot of anger. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to take it out on? One person, instead of everyone?"

"You can't possibly be serious. You're telling me you want me to hurt you?"

"Let's just say it'd be mutually beneficial. Yes or no?"

And so it goes. Whenever he feels particularly angry or violent, he seeks you out. You never seem to be far away, nor do you ever protest when he drags you off somewhere, even if you're occupied with something else. It's odd. Everything about this arrangement is odd. 

At first he goes along with it because he's interested in how much it'll take before you back out. He figures it'll be soon. Scaramouche is not known for holding back. He certainly doesn't do so with you. It would be counterproductive. 

But no matter how he beats you, bullies you, even uses his vision… You do not try to tell him to stop. He's not sure if he's fascinated or irritated. You're an enigma to him. He dislikes not being able to figure you out. Especially when you seem to have him all figured out.

Still, he can't say you were wrong. It's nice to have someone entirely under his control whenever he feels like it. It'd be more fun if you'd beg a little, but he'll take what he can get. It does the job. It's almost funny that you can take a beating better than any of his subordinates who were supposed to be trained to be stronger. 

Yes. It's fine, as long as Scaramouche ignores the sense of wrongness he feels when he looks at you. As long as he doesn't question why you let him do this.

☆

Sometimes it's as simple as that. Sometimes it goes further between you. Then again, he's rough no matter whether it's sex or violence, so does it matter on the end?

There's always this empty sort of look in your eyes when he hurts you, like you're not entirely there. It's frustrating - nothing he does ever seems to pull you back to reality. Sure, your body reacts to the pain, but it's not quite satisfying when he doesn't get to see the light leave your eyes in despair. You're a distant creature, too far above it all for anything to cut you too deep. It reminds him of the gods he despises. 

Either you're far too good at hiding your emotions, or you simply don't feel any at all. 

Scaramouche envies you in that regard. He has no heart yet can still feel more than he wants to. You have one yet don't seem to be more than a husk of a human being.

He watches you move to get up, the way your back is covered in bruises, the tired sigh that shifts your frame. "You said this was mutually beneficial. What are you getting out of it?"

You hum, sliding back into your clothes before bothering to answer. "Does it matter?"

"Are you in the habit of answering questions with questions? What, is it that you're a masochist or something? There has to be some reason you let me do this."

You choke on a laugh. He wishes he could see your face, but you haven't once turned back to face him. "Sure, we'll say it's something like that. Goodnight, Balladeer."

☆

It proceeds this way for a couple of years. The arrangement works for you both, even if he never comes to understand it, so there's no need to change anything. You easily shed any questions he tries to ask, keep your heart guarded from his hands, and remain as solitarily distant as ever no matter how much he tries to pull you down to him.

Annoying, horribly so, but useful. At least you're pretty to look at.

It doesn't last much longer. He goes to Inazuma, then it's all a rollercoaster of uphill-downhill from there. You do not go with him, of course. He's hardly going to drag his punching bag on the run with him. And as for when he gets to Sumeru… Well, you're not there either.

Yet as he is wired into his new godly form, he wonders what it would be like to have you as one of his followers.

Scaramouche does not have time to wonder soon after. 

[impostoradult]

I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me: 

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc  - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

 All of that bothers me tremendously. 

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up. 

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out) 

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday. 

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered? 

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all. 

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™. 

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written. 

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this. 

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER. 

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV. 

Not ever.  

I can’t think of ONE example  Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna. 

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes. 

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing. 

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct. 

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough). 

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough). 

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough). 

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough). 

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging. 

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents. 

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely. 

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!) 

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail. 

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place. 

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.  

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.  

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again. 

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime. 

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn. 

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder) 

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 22 - Crimson Spider Lily

"RAIAN, WAIT!" Kisara yelled after him, but it was to no avail. "That idiot's going to get himself killed!" the auditorium was filled with cries of disdain at seeing yet another murder before their very eyes, while others were wondering whether this blatant murder was going to end up with a Kengan Penalty. Kisara was happy she was smart enough to kill the Ogre after being declared the winner, thus, it was an altercation outside of the match. Still, whatever, or... Better said, WHOever Raian noticed, was bad news.

Back in Katahara's room, the Patriarch declared the Kure Clan was pulling out of the competition, and they will be refunding the money for the contract. Nogi was angry, but there was nothing that he said out of anger that could shake the old Kure leader - After all, no contract is above family. Edward Wu, despite being Toyoda Idemitsu's guest, had to be killed - It didn't matter that they were going to be direct enemies of the Worm or Purgatory - Nothing mattered, except revenge. The leader of the Wu main clan urged Erioh to hurry already - Though neither of the old men had any idea it would be the last time they ever see each other - A friendship stronger than anything earthly, yet death takes us all, and life was truly a harsh, cruel maiden.

"Ohma." Kisara called out to her lover. "I'm going after Raian. I'm worried about him." "You know well enough wherever that brat is, there is also danger, don't you?" the girl nodded, making her husband sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I know his strength better than anyone. Fine, go ahead, if anything happens I'm sure he's well capable of protecting you. Still, I want you to run away and come get me if you get overwhelmed, alright?" "Knock on wood!" Kisara gulped with unease. "Still, I have my katana at me. Might as well use it if needed. Hopefully not though." she spoke, looking absent-minded towards the hall that might still be leading towards Raian's secret destination. "You know... For a little Psycho Brat like him, Raian has been a very important person in my life while you were, well... Dead. I owe him more than I'd like to admit. The least I can do is check on him. He may be physically stronger than most, but his emotional outbursts are going to lead to his downfall if he forgets to use that dumb brain of his." Ohma recalled the frequent voice and video calls that the two had during his stay at the village, and he almost felt himself cringing. The times Kisara would shriek her desperation into the sky, urged by the Kure brat, or when he'd encourage her to cry her whole weight in tears and irrigate a whole flower garden were the times when his resolve felt the weakest, and he wanted to run to her and reassure her he was still alive and very well.

He had been shocked to see how well a snotty brat like Raian could cope with Kisara's supposed loss of her fiance, and how self-destructive she got; Frankly, Ohma never imagined his death could impact her to such a degree, but to have the ultimate confession coming from her on a late night ( As the timezones were so damn screwed between Japan and whatever country she was in at that time ) that were it not for Raian, she would not have been able to smile again, let alone muster the strength to laugh; Get the strength to get out of the bed every day, no matter how hard it was to cope with the awful reality of the excruciating loneliness she had been feeling until not too long ago, and realise that perhaps there is still a reason to keep on going, to see the Sun rise just one more time, to see the starry night at least once more, or to take in the smell of the flora, or delight yourself with the thrill of the birds... It wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible either. Not anymore.

In theory, the man had a lot to thank Raian for - Not only for being taken care of for so long, but being helped to train so thoroughly, and even for the tremendous emotional and moral support that he offered his most beloved person alive - But like hell was he going to thank that snotty brat. It would only get to his head. Perhaps one day, though, when he gets knocked off his high horse, and Ohma wins in terms of numbers at least, during their sparring matches.

Kisara noticed that Akoya went on for his fight, and considering she couldn't care less about his fight, nor of that flamboyant blond guy's, she abruptly turned to the rest of the Kengan fighters still remaining standing in their assigned chamber, and she threw them a leisure peace sign and a grin. "As the designated emotional support of the group, and also, the coolest fighter that Kengan has - It is my duty to wish you all fantastic matches, and tell you that I'm proud of you, no matter the outcome of your matches!" she spoke cheerfully, before sending herself off with a lazy military salute, imitating her Senpai. "I'm going to look after Raian. In theory, I should be back by the time Psy-Cop is done with his match. In practice, well... That honestly depends on what he's up to." "Hey, hold up--" Takeshi was the first to voice his concerns, as well as everyone else's. "You've already been attacked once, and you're a prime target for the Worms. I'm not sure you should go out there, all alone, even if it is Raian you're searching for." Kisara, however, winked at him dismissively. "Let me worry about that, okay, Best Friend~?" she blew him a kiss, before skipping outside, towards the hall. "You sure she's going to be fine, Tokita?" Ohma looked at the Kengan fighters, all of them present ( with the exception of the odd Masaki ) having become such indispensable parts of his wife's life, without whom she couldn't imagine her life; He, of all people, knew how much she would gush over all of them, in their own way, and how much she appreciates and treasures them, equally, for everything they did for her. Ohma shook his head at them, showing his uncertainty - But has danger ever stopped Kisara from going above and beyond when she had her mind set on something in particular? "I'll just hope Raian finds her before anyone else."

That wasn't the case though, for it wasn't Raian who found Kisara first, but the other way around - Not the way she expected to ever see him though. Raian was on the ground, beaten up to a pulp, and in a pool of his own blood, laying with his face down, like a pitiful, overused ragdoll. "R-Raian...?!" the girl gasped, falling on her knees besides him. "Raian, what the hell, get up!" who could have done this, she kept asking herself - Raian was one of the strongest men she's ever known; If even HE could get beaten up to such a degree, there is no way she would ever, in a million years, stand a chance against the assailants who could get him in such a state. How could she protect him, when he has always been her protector? It was Raian who protected her against Tanji three times, he who protected her during the coup, and he who was eager to help her instill her revenge against her parents, who betrayed her - And most of all, it was he who went out of his way to text her all the stupidest things that he heard, all to make her smile, as he knew very well the struggles she was going through. She could never repay this emotional debt she feels towards him, and especially, she could never reciprocate the way he did for her. "Raian, please, get up! Don't scare me like this!" she kept trying to shake his shoulders, but he wouldn't budge.

Suddenly, a few footsteps echoed casually towards her; Based on the look of the three men towering over them, they must be members of the Westward Faction - They were really scary, and their powerful pressure sent a chill down her spine. She almost felt death knocking on her door, just by the way they were looking at her. "To think Alan tripped over a pitiful pebble like this." the one dressed more casually was the first to speak. "I guess we expected too much of the kid. What do they say in manga at times like this?" the one dressed in a suit smirked at the other. "Hey, missy." the one wearing an animal print shirt lit up a cigar. He must be the leader, Kisara realised, based on how buff he was, and how overly confident he acted towards her. "Tuck your baby boy to sleep and tell him a nice story so he won't cry from getting a boo-boo playing with the big boys in the playground. By the time he wakes up, the world will have already changed." the woman dared say no word, simply settling for tightening her grip on the Kure and nodding almost meekly. Not only was she in a clear numeric deficit, but the power imbalance tipped the scales... From Heaven to Hell, an infinite distance.

As the trio turned around on their heels and began to walk away, the warm body that Kisara was touching disappeared, and Raian had rushed forward at unimaginable speed; And though one of those three kicked his foot backwards to slam the Devil in the face, the brat was grinning, having used his forearm as a shield. That was the only successful maneuver that Raian succeeded, however, as Solomon Wu slammed his body like a golem into his own, smashing him against the wall and easily avoiding the cutting palm that the brat attempted at his face, as Fabio grabbed him by the underarms, turning him into a punching bag for the former. "Those guys are my spares. I possess the ego of Wu Hei, thanks to Huisheng. Huisheng's a little tricky, you see - You could theoretically use Huisheng on the entire clan to mass-produce Wu Heis, but that'd just lead to anarchy, cause Wu Hei's personality doesn't like serving anyone else... Then again, if the successor dies, Huisheng stops there - So I need spares, like them." Kisara cringed painfully as she watched her friend get nasty punch in his pretty face, over and over, and the knuckles of Solomon Wu breaking his skin, splattering blood everywhere. "There's also Alan, who you killed, and one other, meaning there are five of me in the Westward faction; Though we call each other by names out of convenience. Oh, wait - Guess we're down to four." "PLEASE STOP IT!" Kisara yelled, throwing herself over Solomon's arm, and keeping her whole weight to block his elbow joint, and keeping one foot straight over Fabio knee, while the other was firmly planted on the ground, she was somehow capable of keeping the fist from connecting with his face. "LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU FUCKING PSYCHOS!" The trio laughed in unison at the girl, only for Solomon to overpower her with such ease, and elbow her in the diaphragm, slamming her to the ground, far away from them. "Silly girl, you think you're a real fighter, just because you fooled around a little and beat up some guy from the very bottom of the barrel? How cute, ain't it?" Edward Wu taunted her, watching as she was coughing and wheezing on the ground to regain her proper breathing.

Raian took advantage of the moment everyone's eyes were away from him, and he broke free with the activation of Removal - With one swift move, he was able to launch a punch to one, and a kick to another; Yet not only were both parried, but with Edward joining, he got kicked down from three spots, at the same time. What a disgrace. "Now that's what I like to call Perfect Sync. We're all ME after all." Edward laughed, cigar still between his teeth. "You're mad, aren't you? Is it because we hurt your mummy crush? Or maybe you think it's unfair, baby boy - And you'd be god-damn-right that it's unfair, and we're gonna be unfair, and fight you three-on-one! We can begin with that lovely lady over there too, just to get a rise out of you." that cruel chagrin of his was quickly wiped off by none other than the Kure Patriarch, who came out of nowhere like the true Master Assassin that he was, and impaled Fabio with his sword from behind. "Make that Two-On-Two." the Mighty Demon, Kure Erioh, had arrived. Fabio wailed as his torso was ruthlessly stabbed, yet despite such an injury, he hadn't died - Instead, he growled in anger at having had his brother killed. What a mess of a monster.

Kisara thought the Kure were strong as hell, but these guys too... They were complete maniacs, to say the least, and very, very scary. Despite his best effort at releasing his Guihun at 100%, the Patriarch cut him in half, vertically, with a simple, swift move. Kisara had formally trained in kendo herself, yet she couldn't even dream of matching the elder's assassination and sword skills overall. For once in so long, her interest had been piqued, and she found motivation to learn something more, to push herself further, just like she trained with Hatsumi and Agito previously, and master, as much as possible, another fighting style. "Edward Wu, your head is mine." the old one spared no time to waste, as he lunged forward to attack, only to have Master Wu Xing, the Head of the Chinese branch of the Wu Clan, the Master of Phantasms, engage in a surprise attack - He avenged his uncle, and now, it was time to avenge his beloved.

"Stay behind me." Raian growled, pushing the red head behind him as he started properly fighting Solomon Wu, who wanted to break free and aid his other Wu Hei sibling. "Raian, be careful! Don't let that sucker provoke you!" Kisara exclaimed, only to see that he wasn't taking any advantage over his opponent, but instead, he remained in a platitude of evenness that irked her. "Raian, you're wasting energy on unnecessary movement! Get a grip already!" the brat was glaring like a monster at the foe before him, and he was getting distracted by the main fight of the three clan leaders. "RAIAN ---" "GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK ALREADY!" Raian roared, his voice resounding harshly through the halls as he kicked Solomon so painfully strong that he sent his foe in the direction of Erioh and Wu Xing. "HEY, GRAMPS!!! MOVE YOUR ASS!!!" like a cat, Solomon ended up on his feet, very close to the main Wu Hei iteration. Raian roughly grabbed Kisara's wrist, dragging her to the other two. "YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY AND KEEP SAFE!" he was outright fuming. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU ALL!!! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!!" as if to anger the brat even more, Wu Xing and Erioh shared a look, and with a simple nod, they activated their secret techniques - Evidently, both with 100% capacity. "HEY, FUCK OFF, GRAMPS!!! HE'S MINE!!!" "Can it, whipper-snapper!" the Patriarch snapped at the boy. "Miss Kisara, if you will, please keep this brat away from this fight, he'll only get in our way." "A-Alright...!" thought the woman couldn't help but look with confused bewilderment at the old man, it was her turn to grab the boy's whole arm and cling on it. "Time to become a parasite. Sorry, kid." "What do we do? It's two on three now." clearly, Solomon wasn't counting the woman as an opponent. Great mistake for later. "What do we do? Simple!" Edward smirked at his counterpart spare. "We just bring them down to zero." what a simple reply, yet the execution was going to be hellish.

But Kisara couldn't, with her 50-something kilograms of a body, to stop the powerhouse of an unstoppable force that Kure Raian was, and though he was careful to shrug her off without hurting her, he was able to easily evade Solomon's punch by diving underneath his arm, and springing towards the Westward Faction leader himself only to get punched away with ease - She looked at the gargantuan man before her; She had a lot of very tall and well-built friends that towered over her like the Empire States Building, but the way he was glaring down at her made her afraid as never before. Oh, how she hated these fucking Worms.

The only thing she was able to witness was Edward Wu throwing away all three of his opponents with such ease that it was almost painful to witness. As Solomon turned his head to look at the three fallen opponents, Kisara quickly dug her hand inside her large pants pockets and found the opioids pills that she gulped down, and an adrenaline shot that she quickly injected in her body, and a lidocaine shot for her stitched up wound. With all the doses being a little over the superior parameter limit, she was sure, soon, she would be able to fight properly; Or at least serve as some sort of decoy. "You troglodytes are nothing like me. You've just witnessed the power of the conquerors, who've spread all across the world." she could see the way Edward smirked like the evil mastermind that he was, but her vision was getting blurry, and her mind was getting a little foggy - To be expected when engaging in a slight overdose of so many substances - They weren't even supposed to get combined, it made so sense whatsoever, but it was all she had, the very single bet she had. "It's high time you accepted death, losers." the woman yelped as she felt a merciless grasp oh her beautiful, long hair, roughing her to the ground to kneel. "Taking hostages, huh? You're an embarrassment, Solomon. You're supposed to be Wu Hei. Act like it." "Sorry." Solomon grumbled, his grip on her hair tightening. "Here, use this, have fun, but take care of the clean-up. I'll get us some 'legs'. Meet me outside when you're done." Solomon easily caught the knife that he was handed. "OI, LET HER GO, YOU FUCKING COWARD! COME FUCKING FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!" but Raian's eyes widened as, with a move as fast as gramps', Kisara slashed away at her hair as if she was some kind of Mulan going to war, and with a twist and two slices. "FUCK YOU! OHMA LOVED MY LONG HAIR, YOU GODDAM FUCKASS! NOW IT'S ALL CHOPPY AND UNEVEN!" came her first concern as she cut Solomon's body in half, before decapitating him and kicking his head towards Edward, like a soccer ball. "I DIDN'T FUCKING TRAIN FOR SEVEN YEARS TO CONTINUE BEING ALL OF YOU, FUCKERS', FUCKING DOORMAT!" Raian's seen Kisara angry enough times - In fact, he was sure he's seen more different emotions on her face than even her husband - But now, she was livid like never before. "I DIDN'T CHANGE EVERYTHING ABOUT MY FUCKING PATHETIC SELF, TO CONTINUE BEING TOUCHED BY THE FILTHY HANDS OF DISGUSTING WEAKLINGS LIKE YOU, EDWARD WU, OR ANY OF YOUR FUCKING WORMS!" her raw yells seemed to stir some kind of inspiration in Raian's heart. "I'LL GET RID OF EVERY FUCKING SINGLE ONE OF YOU! YOU WILL PAY FOR EVERYTHING THAT YOU'VE DONE TO US!" "Gah, give me a break. You're angry at the wrong people, missy. If it weren't for Xia Jing sending the Tiger's Vessel that heart, he wouldn't have come back at all. Without us, he'd be as dead as years ago! The way I see it, you ought to sell your very life, body and soul to us, as gratefulness!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DIE!" though her whole body was feeling so out of it that she was close to transcending through some kind of parallel universe, and her emotions were scorching with wrath and hysteria, she was able to see a familiar member of the Kure familiar, having come out of nowhere, a knife in his hand, ready to assassinate Edward Wu. Feigning muddle-headedness, Kisara sprung forward, pretending to slash at the enemy to offer Reiichi the opening he needed. Unfortunately for the both of them, the foe had senses them and easily immobilised them both with an iron grip on their weapon wrist. Kure Hollis also appeared out of nowhere, threatening Edward Wu, who had activated his Guihun, and throwing the two away, started throwing a barrage of punches at Hollis, who was easily drawn backwards - He couldn't release an output above 80%, and Reiichi's was even worse, at around 50%. There was no way either of them could accomplish anything at this rate. Everything remained on the trio's shoulders.

Neither of them gave up though, as one by one, Kisara, Reiichi, Hollis, and even Erioh and Wu Xing went ahead to attack the enemy, only to get tossed around like they were nothing. Reiichi seemed to have lost consciousness, whilst Hollis was stumbling, barely able to get up in a sitting position. The Patriarch had used himself as a sacrificial pawn for the Wu Leader to stab a needle in the artery of the foe... But it had failed. Kisara was the only one still continuing to get up, ever time she'd get swatted away like a fly, and thrown away like a broken porcelain doll - She couldn't feel the pain any longer, or rather said, she couldn't feel anything at all. She hadn't known the plan of the four prior to all this mess, nor that they catalogued themselves as 'Assassins', and they bet on provoking and baiting Raian to bad that he, the strongest Combatant of the Kure clan, would go so crazy that his powers would go beyond anything imaginable, including Erioh's in his prime.

Still, she needn't know the plan - She knew very well how Raian was so emotionally problematic that you could play him like a fiddle. She knew just how to get him to react so bad, that not even his own clan could recognise him. She watched as Edward Wu, with a rageful aura, snatched the needle from his neck and threw it to the ground. "Now you've done it. You've pissed me off for the last time. Pathetic! You're all just PATHETIC!" Wu Xing watched with wide eyes as his most potent poison wasn't kicking in. Hollis, unable to keep his eyes open from pain, growled, realising the opponent used Removal on his artery, and Reiichi, unable to get up from the ground, was unable to comprehend how their very old fossil of a grandpa was able to stand toe to toe with such a monster. Raian was still on the ground, and Kisara and Erioh alike could feel the dark aura emanating through him. "A single Removal user was able to defeat four of the same kind. Clearly, you don't need either Removal or Guihun or whatever the hell you call it to defeat a monster. You know what Ohma said once? Humans aren't so weak as to  need saving from heroes, or be incapable of defeating monsters." "Oh, really? Is that so?" Edward's maniac laughter would have made her run for the hills, if she wasn't so doped up on a shit ton of substances. "You think just because you killed Solomon, you can kill me too? How fucking stupid!" Kisara took off her blouse, feeling feint from the heat the turtleneck was causing her. "Oh, yeah? Fucking watch me, you fuckass. Some weak shit like you can't defeat me!" of course, she was bluffing, but it was the only way to get Raian so thoroughly fucked in his overly-emotional brain that he would snap beyond comprehension.

Every time she's rush at him, she'd get so easily countered, that it would have made her feel pathetic, were it not for the whole damn Kure clan being just as easily slapped away without even as much as a bead of sweat on his forehead. He picked her up and threw her to the ground, he roughed her up, he swatted her and even kept such a tight grip on her neck that he threatened to snap it like a dove's, only to break the concrete ground with her. Each time, however, Kisara got up, albeit, wobbly. She feared all the effects would wear off soon at this rate. "You really want to die, don't you, you stupid bitch? You doped up on all sorts of shit just to get to the same level as the weakest of either clan, but you don't compare even to scum. You're not a fighter, and you'll never be. You're being ridiculous - What are you trying to accomplish? You're giving these guys a break? The fossil's spine is broken, and all the others are weaker than children. I'll squish all of you, like the cockroaches you are - Starting with you, then that fucking brat--" "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE INSULT RAIAN EVER AGAIN!" the boy's eyes widened with shock at the unexpected turn of events. "I'M THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO CALL RAIAN A FUCKING BRAT - BECAUSE HE'S MY FUCKING PSYCHO BRAT! MINE! HE'S MY BEST FRIEND! MY REASON FOR LIVING, MY PROTECTOR, MY FUCKING SAVIOUR -- A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT LIKE YOU DOESN'T GET TO SPEAK OF HIM!" what the hell had he done to garner such superlative compliments? He just made the girl laugh - And he hit on her all the time, while her husband was right next to him, and would hit him as soon as he hung up. He lied to her for almost three years about her husband being dead. "You call me weak and pathetic? Sure, go ahead, because that's what I am! Everyone knows I used to be a shut in who was afraid of people and lived on too much coffee and a meal per day. I used to never leave the house and only study all the time. I used to be the most pathetic thing, struggling to even open water bottles, damn it!" Kisara took a few deep breaths, her hands on her knees, unable to keep herself up straight. "But once I met Ohma, my whole life changed, you know? I found a reason to get out of bed and actually live. I have so many friends -- And they mean so much to me -- And my husband is back too -- I can't die here! Not you some fuckass like you! I can't die when Ohma's come from the dead!" "You're speaking as if you're some kind of irreplaceable beauty, how hilarious! EVERYONE is replaceable!" Edward laughed so loud that her ears were ringing from the echoing - But she yelled even louder. "I'M NOT FUCKING REPLACEABLE! I THOUGHT I WAS - I WAS SURE I WAS -- BUT I'M NOT!" she growled at him with such emotion that it made Raian tremble on the ground. "Who would call Hatsumi, Senpai? Who would be Tsuki-san's best friend? Who would play Mortal Kombat with lil bro Cos? Who would laugh at Akira for accidentally showing his nudes to his childhood best friends? Who would be Gaolang's personal cheerleader? Who would teach Agito about the real life? Who would Raian protect from all those fucking creeps - And of course - Who would be Ohma's little crybaby dumbass bookworm?!" though she tried to hide her face with her forearm, tears were streaming down her face, and the chopped up short hair was barely able to hide anything. "I DIDN'T SPEND DAYS IN A SHADY PUB FILLED WITH CREEPS JUST TO FIND A MAN I'VE NEVER MET IN MY LIFE AND HOPE HE CAN TURN MY LIFE AROUND! I DIDN'T SPEND YEARS OUT OF MY LIFE, COMPLETELY CHANGING EVERYTHING I STOOD FOR, JUST TO FIND MOTIVATION TO GET OUT OF BED EVERY MORNING BECAUSE I HATED MYSELF SO MUCH THAT I WANTED TO END MY EXISTENCE WITH EVERY SECOND PASSING!" "Ohoho, look at her, getting emotional! Let me help, then!" Edward grinned, lunging towards Raian, only for Kisara to defend him with her sword, slashing a small cut on his cheek, just under his eye, before forcing him to turn around so his back would be facing the Kure boy - Whenever he was ready, he'll have to hit - And HARD. "You don't get to touch him." Kisara sneered at him. "He's protected me all this time - And I'll never be able to repay him for everything that he's done for me - But though I've never told anyone - I admit, without him, I might have killed myself." Raian felt his breathing stop altogether, and the single attempt at getting up seemed to have ended in failure from shock. "I hadn't expected Ohma's death to strike me so hard - The suffering, the loneliness - I was so fucking alone, even more alone than before, that I had to ask Agito to force me out of the bed every day, because I wanted to do nothing but fucking weep every day and night." her raw, powerful voice turned into soft, desperate sobs. "Agito didn't understand why I was so upset, he just didn't get it  - And everyone else... Nothing worked... But it was Raian and his stupid ass texts and random video calls, and those fucking selfies, that put a smile on my face for the first time; Without him, I don't think I'd have gotten over the extreme self hatred that I had, all because of this -- And you think you have ANY right to shit on that boy? I'll fucking wring your neck if you dare even LOOK at him again!" "Fuck, you're really hilarious, aren't ya? If I knew I'd have so much fun, I'd have had the others over to have fun too! What a shame!" Edward bent down at the waist, closer to her height, but still towering over her? "You're wrong. The shame here is that, no matter what, I CANNOT get killed!" Kisara grinned widely, mimicking the Kure boy. "For one last time - I Want to play a game, y'know? Just one more time, I promise! So like --..." from the bottom of her lungs, and with all the screaming techniques Hatsumi taught her, Kisara shouted Raian's name so loud, that even the other Kure members thought their eardrums would rupture, only for the softest rumble of a chuckle to follow right after. "Will you teach me how to kill again?" inching her forearm further up, she lifted her uneven fringe to reveal her face, and the wicked expression from her face that seemed to piss the enemy off. "I'll teach you how to kill - By killing YOU!" before Edward could rush forward and destroy her, Kisara lunged forward to punch his liver, only for the enemy to get surprised with another powerful blow from behind; So powerful, in fact, that it even upped his own strength; And it worked in perfect sync with the girl's, as he hadn't been allowed any split second to react, before the two went in for another attack, from the opposite sides; This time, she threw a kick at his legs, whilst Raian punched at his face, and so on.

Reiichi and Hollis both could only stare, awestruck at the display before them - Yes, they knew Raian was a fucking monster of a man, but after they fought four on one and lost so pitifully, to be capable of completely fucking Edward Wu up, with the help of a simple, normal girl, who's dosed up on a shit ton of of different substances, just to keep herself up on her feet; A woman, incapable of using any secret technique, nor was she the creation of some ancient clan renowned for selective breeding of warriors, assassins and what not. She was just some girl who so randomly befriended the psycho brat of the Kure Clan, and somehow, got under his skin so much that she triggered his latent strength with her words and actions alone. "FUCK YOU -- BOTH OF YOU!" Raian roared through the place. "WHEN DID I ASK YOU TO PULL THAT SHIT?!" "You Goddamn cockroaches, why don't you stay down when you're beaten?!" but as Edward shrieked that, the two hit him with a punch in perfect sync, and with Kisara back in possession of her sword, she sliced at the enemy's torso, whilst Raian used his finger to assassinate and slash away at the artery, slicing half of his neck while at it, and to end the overkill, they both cut him clean from the other side also, watching as the pieced up remains of the once leader of the Westward Faction that was now on the ground, in a puddle of his own blood, like a chopped up fish.

Reiichi had been shocked out of his mind, still unable to get off the ground, seeing that Raian wasn't weeping on the ground anymore, beaten up to a pulp, whilst Wu Jing was shocked to see someone so strong, pounding at the enemy and not backing down at all. "You excessive strength breeds overconfidence, that's why you lost - And one more thing, remember when I said, if I were in my prime, you'd be Child's play to me, and this fledging you're fighting will one day surpass me in my prime... If he hadn't already." though exhausted and feeling his life slipping away from him, Erioh laughed from the ground he was laying on. "You never stood a chance."

Raian and Kisara both were panting with difficulty from the effort they put into this ultimate fight. "You took me out, I'll give you credit for that - But this is only the beginning of a massive party." Hollis was able to get up from the ground, and even support Reiichi up. "It's a shame, I wanted to join the party too." With a swift move, Raian punched his skull in, at the same time Kisara stomped the heel of her boot in his face. "Shut the fuck up and die already." though the boy had almost felt his legs give up from exhaustion, he had to catch her from falling. "You're a fucking dumbass." he growled lowly, helping her sit down and helping her rest on his side. "I just hope I won't be getting into hypovolemic shock, okay?" her chuckle was pained, though her mind was still fuzzy and muddled, getting off the medicine high. She hadn't realised she was drenched in blood as though it had rained crimson, or that the boy was holding pressure on her wound. All that over-exertion had taken a toll on her, but without the danger sensors of her body warning her that she was outright killing herself, she had no clue - And given the circumstances, she couldn't care less - Although, her body was getting weaker by the second, and it wasn't fun. "Give yourselves a rest, you idiots!" Hollis snapped, only to earn a curse from both of them, although he could barely hear the girl's voice. Her tired glare was enough of an answer. Wu Xing had taken off his darling locket and licked the picture of his beloved before holding it dearly to his chest, at peace now that he was able to instill his vengeance. Hollis and Reiichi looked at each other, saying they had to call the others so they could say their farewells to the Patriarch.

Karla was the quickest one to kneel besides her grandpa, holding his hand lovingly, whilst Ohma was frozen to the spot, his brain incapable of comprehending the sight before him. Why was Gramps dying? Why were all the Kure in such a horrific state, and why was Kisara looking more dead than alive, and painted scarlet with blood? The youngest Kure reassured the old man that all the Worms hiding in the arena were mostly captured, while the others were being hunted down by Uncle Horio at the moment. Hollis was the one entrusted to handle the rest. "Did you know about this, Fusui?! Why didn't you stop him?!" "OHMA!" Karla exclaimed his name, urging him to shut up already. "Grandfather's decisions are final." "Ohh, you're here, great grandson-in-law." the Patriarch chuckled, only to receive the same reply as before. "I told you I'm already married." Ohma sighed, his fists clenched, pained to be see the old man in such a  state. "Ever the jokester, aren't you?" Erioh chuckled tiredly. "Tread carefully - If my hunch in correct, you're contending with a foe that's far beyond you." he was met with a graveyard silence. "Raian, I suppose you wouldn't listen to me if I told you to stay out of this, but you couldn't have defeated Edward Wu on your own; You needed not only us, but your future wife also, poor darling; So improve yourselves together - Surpass yourselves, and be of help to Ohma." "Fuck you, Gramps. You just had to get one last lecture in, huh?" Raian scoffed, only to have his head pulled to rest on the girl's chest, his hair being patted and played with. "Don't worry, Grandpa. I'll be taking care of this little Psycho Brat." Kisara chuckled tiredly. "Katahara's going to be very upset with you." "I couldn't let him die before me, could I?" he chuckled. "I know you will, Miss Kisara. And you will be a great wife some day. I know I had the right hunch when I saw you that day, ready to take the whole world in your hands." the old man's praise made her smile with gratefulness. "You can't give up yet, Gramps! I'll go call Hanafusa - He can save you!" Ohma desperation was met with an exhausted smile from the Patriarch. "Ohma... It's too late for me." came his last words. "I wish you all the best."

The graveyard silence that took over them was disturbed only by the soft weeping of Karla, who was being embraced by Fusui, though even she could barely bite away her tears. The uncomfortable silence had urged Kisara to use Raian's shoulder as propping to get up to her feet and stumble to her husband and cling on his arm. He looked down at her and noticed her gesturing for him to leave with her, allowing the family to mourn the passing of their beloved Patriarch. He helped sustain her weight and hey went down the hall from where they came from, only to be surprisingly meeting with Rei and Hatsumi, who seemed to have finished a round of intense fighting themselves, and a tall and buff man with shades, wearing a white suit and a fedora, expensive and luxurious, and he was jovially grinning. Kisara shuddered lightly, seeing the similarity between him and Edward Wu, but there was none of the malice.

"Oh, dear. I suppose I won't be getting my bonus for combat, will I?" was he also some kind of combat assassin, she wondered. Ohma shook his head. "Hey now, forget fighting - Angel, what the hell happened?" Hatsumi rushed to her side with a handkerchief, wiping away the caked blood and sweat from her face. "Well... The Worms were tougher than we anticipated." she muttered, her eyes glazed over and a little unfocused. "How's Erioh?" Kisara and Ohma shared a look, before shifting their gaze down. "He sacrificed himself to help us kill the leader of the Westward Faction. There's only one left, and in hiding." Kisara was the one to speak what Ohma couldn't. "Hey, Senpai? Can you take me to Hanafusa? This time, I actually think I'm getting into decompensatory shock... And I don't want to get in the fourth and last stage." her broken smile made the man frown, though he spared no second to pick her up and do as instructed. "Why didn't you let Tokita take you? I thought you'd be glued to him." that ditzy smile of hers made him realise he was right. "Let him mourn. Erioh took care of him for years. He's upset and needs some time for himself." she spoke simply. "And I really think I'm dying." "What did you get yourself into?" Hatsumi sighed, placing her on the bed. "Well... I couldn't let Raian die, could I?"

As Hanafusa took intensive care of the girl, it was up to Ohma and Karla to go to the partying Kengan members and informed them of the World Changing blow that just happened, under their noses. Kisara, however, was content just being half-asleep and speaking all sorts of non-sense to her Senpai whom she missed so much - She even called him a jerk for leaving her so alone for three years, though he knew it was just the unconscious sadness and loneliness speaking, and she wasn't actually upset at him - Especially after following up with whatever stupid gossips that she found out from Raian some time ago. This time, at least, she very gladly accepted the fluidotherapy, but it wasn't enough, and the I.V. bag of isotone crystalloids helped little with her condition. She needed a blood transfusion - Time for all her friends to get a quick blood test, huh?

It was already evening when Ohma came over to her and slumped in the chair next to her bed, holding her hand, watching the blood getting in her bloodstream. "You could have died." "Nahhh, no way." she grinned, happy that her body wasn't bloody, sweaty and dirty anymore. "I just got you back - There's no way I could've let myself die, y'know?" "My feelings for you didn't save me back then." he grumbled grimly, making her sigh dramatically. "Hey now, what's with you? Enough of this." she grabbed him by the shirt, urging him to get in bed with her. "Let's change the subject. For example - Do you still think I'm pretty, even with short hair? I think our hair is about the same length now. I hope it grows fast." "You dumbass, of course I still think you're pretty." he shook his head at her childishness, though it was very appreciated. "Aww, you're such a sweetheart!" she snuggled into his side, though the arm receiving the blood was awkwardly extended to the side. After a few good minutes of silence, Ohma spoke again. "You never did tell me what you put in my bloodstream back then, when you found me." he said, making her raise her head slightly. "I remember having the inside of my elbow bandaged up, and some bag hanging from the ceiling." "Ah, well -- Basically, the same thing that I'm receiving right now, to aid the body after losing blood. I'm thinking that maybe you didn't really need anything I did to you, but I was panicked, okay?" she smiled tenderly at him. "Though, I don't really regret it. You got better really damn fast. I was happy - Whether it was from what I did, or your fantastic body, it didn't matter to me." "I did feel fine." he nodded his head in agreement. "It must be what you did. Or at least, I've convinced myself that's the truth, and I'm fine with that knowledge." "I gave you my blood too, you know." Ohma's eyes bulged from the shock. "I never did tell anyone... But I was afraid. You had lost a lot of blood... Though that might have been from the water on the ground too; And you were very pale and cold. Dad used to have some old emergency tools, for historical purposes, and I tested your blood, just to be sure - And I transferred my blood to you." "You're kidding." Kisara shook her head. "You're insane, woman. You're insane." "Yes, well... I guess that's why you love me, huh?" she chuckled lightly. "Soulbound and Bloodbound, huh?" "Why did you never tell me?" she simply shrugged. "You never asked, did you?" the look he gave her made her chuckle - He was adorable. "I don't deserve you. I never did." he sighed, his embrace tightening slightly. "I'm really sorry for leaving you in the dark. I regret letting you go after Raian, but I also owed him for supporting you while I couldn't. I was always there - I needed to hear your voice, to see you - But it hurt, seeing you so upset all the time. I wanted to go to you, but I was so afraid you'd get targeted by those fuckers" "Oh. Right." Kisara cleared her throat awkwardly. "I, uh... Hoped you wouldn't know. I'm ashamed." she smiled wryly. "But, uh... It's no big secret that I'm so in love with you, and without you I was so damn alone, that it hurt to breathe. It hurt so much that I got in an even worse depression than before you met me, and I wanted to die so bad - At least in the first year and a half or so.  I don't think I was able to thoroughly enjoy my travels. I forced myself to imagine getting in a relationship with any of my friends, especially Agito who was physically there daily -But I couldn't. Every time I tried, I would still see your face every time, so I gave up. Thank goodness you're alive though, I don't know how long I'd have been able to keep on going." "My God, you're pathetic, you little crybaby." he cradled her up in his arms, kissing her face all over. "It was hell without you. It's fine though. I'm back and ready to hold your hand and guide you through everything - Properly, this time. As your husband." "Whoaaa~! So romantic~!" she chuckled, nuzzling into his chest. "When's the wedding?" "You said you liked Spring, didn't you? When the Cherry trees blossom." she felt herself swooning. "Oh my God, I love you so much."

A few days after the Kengan vs Purgatory Tournament, the funeral for Kure Erioh took place in the Village. It was a beautiful funeral, and so many people came to pay their respects. Though Ohma hadn't a suit, he was able to borrow one from Hollis. It must have been really hard on him. Kisara let him and Karla mourn, while she tried to comfort Raian, somewhere far away, alone, in some corner where he was punching away trees and what not. He needed her emotional and moral support, almost just as much as she needed him, prior to all of this damn mess.

Three months passed since the funeral, and Ohma was called over by Koga to train and spar together - Of course, there was no one better to learn from but the ultimate Champion - And someone with a fighting style so similar to his best friend, Ryuki's - So he could understand him better. Ohma praised him for having started his fighting career properly - But Ohma couldn't outright go back to fighting yet - He promised Kisara he'd remain relatively unscathed for a whole two years, until their wedding - She wanted her long hair back after all, and in a little over a year, her long hair was going to shine as gorgeously as ever; His Majesty. Until then, however, he was dragged over to travel to whatever place she wanted to see - Well, he couldn't complain, it was actually fun; Though his favourite part of every trip was trying out the local cuisine. Dork.

Their wedding was everything that Kisara ever dreamt of, and she had the prettiest dress there was; With her hair so long and slightly wavy, and so many flowers put in it, she looked like such a Princess. She had Sayaka as her Maid of Honour, and Kaede, Rin, Elena, Rino, Fusui and Karla were her bridesmaids. There were many options for the Best Man, but they both agreed to have Raian the Psycho Brat as the ultimate man, though of course, all of her other friends were the grooms' men - And Inaba Ryo was the ring bearer, and he was so cute! Hatsumi was the most drunk of them all, and was clinging and laughing at a tipsy Wakatsuki and Rei, though everyone was having fun and drinking, even Cos, who was being urged to drink by Kureishi, his master. Retsudo wanted to help with the photoshoot, but Katahara was the life of the party, and even photo-bomb most of the pictures, much to everyone's amusement. Koga had fun playing the DJ, and had some help from Ryuki, as they were the youngest attendees, but Saw Paing was the loudest and most cheerful supporter of everyone there. Agito was, by far, the most out of place, but he had Misasa and Rolon by his side to ease him up - A drunk Agito was hilariously adorable even! And Kisara was happy that it was thanks to Agito that they could create a sort of bridge between Kengan and the sane Purgatory fighters they once fought. Medel was chatting up wth Gaolang, Kaneda and Himuro, while Seki was having a drinking contest with Jurota, Nitoku and Adam. All of Katahara's bodyguards, including the Heavenly Wolves also, and the Kure clan was invited over to have fun, but, without a doubt, the happiest for the wife and groom was Yamashita Kazuo, followed by his two sons. The old darling was crying and snotty, saying all of his best wishes... But as soon as Mokichi announced the moment everyone was waiting for, Kisara threw her arms around Ohma's neck with a small squeal and pulled him in the most passionate and loving kiss they've ever shared - He hummed in amusement, his arms holding her tightly in a tender embrace, and everyone whistled and cheered for them, throwing flowers and what not.

If only things could remain so beautiful and jovial as the day of her Wedding, for just about each and every one of her friends, but unfortunately, there was only so long she could allow herself to keep ignorant of the Worms still lingering like a plague around Japan, and even the whole world, when they keep pulling terrorist attacks around Rome, or try to infiltrate the underground - But it was time for a well deserved punishment. Xia Ji, especially, was going to feel that on his own skin...

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[sukirichi]

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

[robininthelabyrinth]

JC adopts stray/rouge cultivators after the war au to cope with the destruction of lotus pier. also i love your writing so much!!

Gratuitously Acquired - ao3

-

1

At first, he took anyone who would join, needing numbers – needing people. There were plenty of cultivators that wanted to be associated with a great sect. Plenty, too, that were barely more than criminals, wanting to use the smoke and ash of war to obscure the past, to cover up old crimes and wash themselves clean.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t in any position to refuse them. Soldiers were soldiers.

After the war ended, though…

Some he cast out. Others, even more despicable, he slaughtered for what they’d done.

A few –

“Yan Qiao.”

The female cultivator in question, who had been sneaking out of the still mostly ruined Lotus Pier at night in flagrant violation of curfew, froze in her tracks.

“Uh,” she said. “Sect Leader Jiang. Fancy finding you…here…now…at this time…”

Jiang Cheng looked at the basket of buns in her hands. “You’re stealing leftovers from our kitchens to feed orphans among the common people,” he said. “Again.”

She blushed. “No one wants them now that there’s better available, Sect Leader! Really, they’ll only go stale, and then rot – and I never stole when it was the army eating them!”

“That’s not the point,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “Tell me, how in the name of heavens did you really get branded as a criminal? Distributed too many alms? Did too much charity?”

Yan Qiao coughed, turning red. “I told you before, Sect Leader. I killed a man.”

“He must have done something particularly heinous, then. You’re shitat killing.”

“Now I am. Sect Leader, if you don’t mind…”

“You’re one of the ones who wants my surname, right?” he interrupted. “Consider it granted.”

Yan Qiao – no, he supposed he’d better start thinking of her as Jiang Qiao – gaped at him. “But…Sect Leader!”

“I’ve barely granted it to anyone, so you’d better live up to it, you hear me?” Jiang Cheng said in his best threatening voice. He’d been assured by several people that it was really quite threatening, anyway. “I don’t want any excuses. Now go feed your damn orphans, and in the morning I want a report on how you think we can do it in a more structured manner. I can’t have you sneaking off every night anymore! Now that you’re a Jiang, you’re going to have work.”

-

2

When they were done with war and started firmly on rebuilding, the Jiang sect’s name was firmly reestablished as a Great Sect once more, it was the opportunists that came.

Smiling faces, sycophantic voices, cowards one and all – like beetles crawling out of the woodwork, not willing to risk their lives, but willing enough to beg for scraps and advantages later on when it seemed safe enough to do so.

Jiang Cheng wanted to chase them all away, but his sect was still weaker than he wanted to admit, still rebuilding, still more army than civilian operation. They had valiant soldiers by the dozen, but they needed more than that. They needed administrators, supervisors, artisans, smiths, merchants, laundry-women…

They needed workers. The ones they got – well, cowards they might be, but skills they had.

He still rejected most of the worst of them.

Most.

“Bo Zhou,” he said, inspecting the surprisingly flush list of taxes they’d collected that quarter, and the man in question turned to grin unrepentantly at him. “You’d tell me if you were a con artist in a previous life, right?”

“A previous life, Sect Leader?” Bo Zhou said. He was still grinning, but then, he was always grinning. He had a crooked leg and an even more crooked heart, and he’d probably steal candy from little children if he happened to have a hankering, but he was amazing at getting people to do what he wanted. Too amazing, really. “Why limit yourself? What about thislife?”

“…Bo Zhou. Tell me you aren’t a former con artist.”

“I may or may not have had a sideline selling snake oil and protective talismans before I became a cultivator,” Bo Zhou admitted cheerfully, and Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose – less out of actual irritation and more to keep from actually laughing. The only person he knew that was more shameless than Bo Zhou was Wei Wuxian; he couldn’t wait to introduce them once Wei Wuxian stopped skulking around in wine shops long enough to get back to doing his job as Jiang Cheng’s head disciple and right hand. “Who would’ve known that making all those fake talismans ended up making me pretty good at making actual talismans when I became a cultivator? Really, who could have called that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Who taught you how to cultivate, anyway? Can I – I don’t know – seek vengeance on behalf of the rest of the world or something?”

Bo Zhou rolled his eyes right back at him. Shameless! “Is this about the taxes? Just be happy I got them all!”

“I can’t just be happy! What if this money is stolen property?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sect Leader. They’re what we shouldbe getting, and from all the right people. You told me this was the right amount yourself!”

“Yes, but no one ever actually pays the full amount!” Jiang Cheng enjoyed the way Bo Zhou’s jaw dropped. “I just wanted to see if you could actually do it.”

“I’m hurt at your lack of trust.” Bo Zhou paused, considering. “Also a little impressed at you for keeping a straight enough face to trick me. Well done, Sect Leader.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “You too, Jiang Zhou.”

“It’s Bo…” He trailed off, comprehension arriving and speech departing, and this time he didn’t have a quick retort. He’d been nagging Jiang Cheng on and off for the Jiang surname for the last few weeks, more joking than anything else – he knew that Jiang Cheng hadn’t given his surname to the vast majority of the new people in his sect, only the very few he thought were worth it.

Jiang Cheng enjoyed the newly dubbed Jiang Zhou’s moment of speechlessness thoroughly, since he was moderately sure he wasn’t going to get another one anytime in the next – ever, possibly.

“You proved your worth and your trustworthiness,” he said, patting Jiang Zhou on the shoulder. It occurred to him that he should probably come up with a courtesy name for the man, although he wasn’t sure the man would want one. “Also, congratulations, you’re now the person in charge of tax collection. See if you can think up some new thoughts about supplementing our income, will you? We have so many costs, and I don’t want to rely on Lanling Jin more than I can help it, not like Gusu Lan…”

“Oh, really?” Jiang Zhou interrupted, abruptly excited. “I have so many ideas! How ethical do you want to be about this?”

Jiang Cheng paused. “…very?”

“Be reasonable, Sect Leader!”

“…moderately?” he tried, a little more desperately.

“I can work with moderately. I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘thin and barely plausible veneer’?”

“No.”

“Oh well. Moderately ethical it is!”

-

3

Most of the Jiang sect was slaughtered during the attack on the Lotus Pier. Disciples Jiang Cheng had grown up with his whole life, had expected to see by his side in the future, his friends, his family, even his petty childhood enemies – all gone.

Well, not all gone. There were some Jiang disciples that had been away from Lotus Pier at the time, whether on some errand or a night-hunt or other reasons; they rushed back to his side as soon as they could, of course, and formed the core of Jiang Cheng’s new Jiang sect. When he’d felt utterly alone, when even Wei Wuxian was missing, they had been there for him. They’d preserved their lives and then they’d promised them to him, and it wasn’t until they knelt before him that he really felt like a Sect Leader.

There was no way he could give any of them up now.

“Jiang Meimei, you can’t go,” he said, having completely abandoned all shame in favor of clutching at her robes as if he were a child. “I need you!”

“I’m not even a proper Jiang disciple!” she exclaimed, exasperated – or possibly just annoyed that her grand plan to sneak out in the middle of the night had been stymied by his ambush. “Just because my surname is still Jiang doesn’t mean I didn’t get kicked out, remember?”

“I thought you just left,” Jiang Cheng said, temporarily distracted. “No one ever really talked much about it, actually, but to the extent anyone did, they said that you’d decided that your inclinations were more suited to being a rogue cultivator. That you didn’t want to be weighed down by sect expectations –”

“Hah!” Jiang Meimei tossed her head. “As if it wouldn’t be better to be a roving sect cultivator than a rogue cultivator! I won’t deny that I had a fair bit of wanderlust in my youth –”

“You’re only ten years older than me, you’re not that old.”

“Shut up, brat.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m your sect leader.”

“You’re my baby cousin is what you are, and, again, I’m actually not part of the Jiang sect!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng argued. “You’ve been at my side during the entire Sunshot Campaign.”

“I wasn’t going to let my baby cousin get himself murdered, now was I?” Jiang Meimei sniffed. “But I’m still a rogue cultivator. They kicked me out when I wouldn’t accept a marriage, and I’m still firm on that.”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to be married? Really?” he asked, concerned. “But what about poor Liu Lingling? You shouldn’t be sleeping with her if you don’t intend to be serious about it! I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for the current project you’re working on to finish to find a matchmaker to exchange birth characters –”

“They wanted me to marry a man,” Jiang Meimei clarified, but her habitual frown had eased considerably; she looked almost on the verge of a smile. “A-Cheng, you’re being dense again. You’re the Sect Leader of a Great Sect now. You know that that means you need to have alliances, marriage contacts with other sects, and that means using your subsidiary branches.”

“Jiang Meimei, you’re the one being dense,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think I’d force you into a marriage? I don’t have subsidiary branches. I barely have a sect, even after all this time. I’m not Wen Ruohan, handing out my surname to anyone who wants it – I only give it to the ones that matter, the ones I want to keep, and those of you that actually share my blood are even rarer, even more precious. How could I give you away?”

Jiang Meimei pursed her lips.

“I really do need you,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. “You weren’t part of the Jiang sect at all, not really, but you still came to help me – you were there from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, and you’ve never strayed, never left. You’re my right hand. I can’t do without you.”

Jiang Meimei turned her head away. “It’s not that I want to leave you,” she said. “But becoming a rogue cultivator was hard enough the first time. I couldn’t rely on any of the things that I had always had, everything always changing. I was young and angry then, I could handle it, but things are different now. I’m less flexible, less compromising, older, more tired – I can’t just walk out on a whim and just rough it anymore. I have a girl who, yes, I want to eventually marry; I want to have children. I need certainty. Are you going to give it to me?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands. He’d known it was going to have to come to this, but he’d been dragging his feet, not wanting to succumb to a reality that already existed. Had existed for longer than he wanted to admit, as if simply denying it would mean that it wasn’t the truth.

Like a child.

“Yes,” he said, though it tore his heart out of his chest to do it. “I will. Jiang Meimei…will you take the position of Head Disciple?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back. Jiang Cheng had already cast him out of the sect, just like Jiang Meimei had been, except in Wei Wuxian’s case it had been something that Wei Wuxian himself had demanded. He was living in Yiling now, and by all reports was quite happy there with his little Wen sect family that he’d picked over Jiang Cheng and all his family.

He was never coming back.

It was time to move on.

“Yes,” she said, and shoved her pack into his chest. “Now go unpack that for me. Consider it payment for driving me to extreme measures!”

“I’m your sect leader, you know,” he grumbled. “Officially, now. You could show me some respect.”

“Would you rather pay for my wedding down the line?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” And then, as he scurried over away, he shouted over his shoulder: “As if I wouldn’t be paying for it anyway! You think my Head Disciple’s going to be married in anything other than top style? Better start planning…”

“Don’t rush me! Brat!”

-

4

Jin Ling wasn’t surnamed Jiang, but he was the most important person in all of the Lotus Pier – and Jiang Cheng wanted to make sure everyone knew it. It hadn’t been easy for him to get the chance to help care for Jin Ling, especially here, so far away from home; Jiang Cheng had expected to barely be allowed to visit, to have to cool his heels outside of Lanling City begging just for a glimpse of him. Being able to take him home to raise for half the year, even if it was due to the dangerous infighting amongst Lanling Jin, was more than he’d ever dreamed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear that Jin Ling himself agreed.

“He’s still crying,” Jiang Cheng muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Surely he’s got to stop sometime? I mean, just – physically?”

“They say a boy resembles his mother’s brother,” Jiang Meimei said, echoing the gesture. “If he’s got your lungs and stamina, Sect Leader, we’re doomed.”

“I’m rethinking the whole having children thing,” Liu Lingling said blearily, having fallen asleep on her soon-to-be wife’s shoulder several times, only to be woken up by the next round of crying. “I need sleep.”

“Go get some, both of you,” Jiang Cheng ordered. When his cousin scowled at him, he scowled back. “I’m serious. If he keeps this up, we’re going to need to go into shifts. I can last a bit longer.”

“That’s a filthy lie.”

“It is not. Your sect leader has given you an order – get to it!”

It was a filthy lie.

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes when the crink in his neck grew too irritating to ignore, at which point he realized he’d been asleep – and, more importantly, that Jin Ling was somehow not crying.

He sat up with a start, suddenly terrified: had something happened to him? Had he been silenced forever? Had Jiang Cheng failed this one last duty he had to his sister?

“Shhh, little one,” someone was whispering, not far away. “Let me tell you the one about the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, yeah? You seem like someone who’d appreciate stars. It all started –”

Jiang Cheng went to go look.

A teenage girl was rocking Jin Ling in her arms and telling him a story in murmured tones, and Jin Ling was yawning and trying to gnaw on her shirt. She wasn’t even a cultivator, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell. Her clothing suggested some level of poverty, her accent the countryside – how’d she even end up here?

He wasn’t sure he cared.

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to disturb her, but he did anyway; a shift of his weight, a scuffling of his feet, and the floor creaked. The girl jumped, startled, but luckily Jin Ling was already most of the way asleep and just grumbled a little instead of starting to screech.

“How’d you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked, nodding at Jin Ling. “Make him stop crying.”

“My mother had seven kids after me,” the girl said, answering automatically. “And her sister had six. Someone had to learn to deal with all those babies, and it ended up being me. Think it’s just habit after this long.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle one baby. He couldn’t even imagine.

That’s when the girl seemed to remember herself, and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I heard him crying and I couldn’t resist...I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. It was an accident.”

“How did you get here?” Jiang Cheng asked, because accidental or not, a security breach was still a security breach. “And who are you, anyway?”

“My name’s A-Hua. I’m here to work in the kitchens, just got hired this morning; the fourth cook is my uncle’s wife’s cousin, she got me a job, said it was a good place to start – I was trying to find my way out so I could go to the servant’s quarters to get some sleep, but then I got lost…”

More likely she’d decided it was better to try to stay somewhere indoors than go out in the pouring rain to try to find her way to the right set of quarters, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. “Give me your hand.”

“Uh. What?”

He ignored her stare, took her hand and felt her pulse. There was a little bit of natural talent there, though not much; she might, if she tried hard enough, become a cultivator, but she’d never be more than a servant.

Unless, of course, she did something unusual to impress someone.

“Forget the kitchens,” Jiang Cheng told her. “You’re hired on a provisional basis to keep an eye on Jin Ling.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide as saucers. “Can you – do that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. What’s your surname? You can’t go around being called A-Hua, we have at least seven people that I know of that go by that name.”

The girl looked distressed.

She probably didn’t have a proper surname. Some people in the countryside didn’t.

But they really couldn’t go around shouting “A-Hua” every time Jin Ling was crying, which was basically all the time.

“Fine,” he said, giving in. “Do well, and I’ll consider letting you use mine. But only if you do well!”

-

5

Jiang Cheng was covered in mud thanks to a successful-but-at-what-cost night hunt and angry about it, stomping around the lotus pools on his way back to town, when he heard the familiar sounds of someone having a panic attack.

He slowed, involuntarily, and took a look: it was some teenager dressed in black, heaving miserably by a tree.

Jiang Meimei had once said that Jiang Cheng was a bit weak when it came to teenagers.

Jiang Cheng said that was nonsense.

Jiang Hua chimed in, quite loyally (if perhaps not with the best timing), and said he wasn’t.

Jiang Cheng yielded the argument at once to keep Jiang Meimei from laughing herself sick.

In view of that, he was better off ignoring the kid. After all, what was it to him that some kid was having a fit of anxiety right next the same old lotus pool that he used to have his own teenage fits of anxiety next to, under the shade of the same old tree that had sheltered him – one of the few places that remained untouched by the Wen sect’s aggression, one of the few places that was exactly the same?

Jiang Cheng groaned and walked over. “Okay, fine. What’s your problem?”

The kid looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I think my heart’s about to explode.”

“That’s just the anxiety,” Jiang Cheng said, and sat down next to him. “What’s causing the anxiety? Don’t say that someone is better than you and your parents are disappointed in you.”

“What?” the kid blinked. “No, it’s not – it’s not that. I’m about to screw up the very first job I ever got.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. It was just different enough from his own issues that he didn’t suspect a plot, and yet close enough that he might actually be able to offer some expertise.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked reluctantly.

“Not to some mud-man,” the kid said, and – hey! It wasn’t that bad. He thought, anyway. Actually, it probably was that bad. “I just…I’m the only one left. I have to make something of myself!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched. “What do you mean, you’re the only one left?”

The kid stuttered through his story. It wasn’t as bad as Jiang Cheng had initially feared, but it was still pretty bad – his small village had had bad harvests, and there had been starvation, a bad winter; the kid had been sent out to get help, but it had taken too long and he’d arrived back to find them all already gone. He’d been lost, but some traveling cultivator had agreed to take him on as a disciple provided he proved himself, had taught him all sorts of skills, cultivation and talisman-writing and music –

“Music?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Not the sword?”

“There was only the one,” the kid explained. “Obviously he kept it for himself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t think much of that – surely this cultivator, whoever he ws, could have shared, just long enough to teach? – but he didn’t comment. It seemed fairly clear that the kid didn’t actually think very highly of his teacher, although he was very earnestly trying to be appropriately filial.

It was a little cute.

“…and I was supposed to wait here for someone when they came by here, some fancy rich person, and then get them to follow me, but it’s been ages and no one’s come by at all!” the kid wailed. “I’m such a screw up!”

“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the kid shook his head. “How were you supposed to get them to follow you, then?”

The kid scratched his nose. “My master said that if I showed off some of my cultivation, they’d follow me right away.”

Jiang Cheng suppressed a smirk. “It must be very impressive cultivation, then.”

“…not really. I only know one trick,” the kid admitted. “But it’s not that hard, and it looks impressive – here, see, wait; give me a second, I just need to whistle –”

Zidian crackled to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger before the kid finished the first stanza.

“Stop that!” he cried out, leaping to his feet, and – startled – the kid stopped, blinking owlishly at him. “Is that what your master taught you?!”

“Yes?” the kid said. “Did I do it wrong?”

Jiang Cheng gnashed his teeth. “That’s demonic cultivation. Never do that, okay? Ever.”

“But then how am I supposed to get the fancy rich person to follow me, assuming he ever showed?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. If he hadn’t tripped over that branch and fallen into the mud – if he hadn’t taken an extra half-shichen to struggle out of the mire – if he’d walked by in all his usual finery, rich person that he was, and seen some kid practicing demonic cultivation…

He’d have given chase in a heartbeat.

More to the point, everyone knew he would. His reputation had been pretty much set in stone by this point.

“Let’s go find that master of yours,” he said. “Right now.”

Of course, that ended up leading Jiang Cheng straight into the bastard’s trap, which would have been a problem except that he’d taken the time to send someone to tell Jiang Qiao, who’d been waiting for him back in town, that he’d be a bit late and not to worry, just wait where she was.

She’d ignored his instructions and arrived just in time to knife the demonic cultivator – a human trafficker whose operations Jiang Cheng had shut down with extreme viciousness only a few months before – right in the belly, gutting him like a fish in a swift easy motion.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it again,” she said, smiling at the knife, and Jiang Cheng made a mental note to ask exactly how manymen she’d killed to get that criminal brand of hers, except the poor kid was sinking down to his knees with a horrified look and, shit, that horrible bastard, evil as he might have been, was probably the last person the kid had in this whole rotten world, wasn’t he?

“Does Jiang Hua still have those beginner manuals we dug up for her?” Jiang Cheng asked, and Jiang Qiao nodded. “Good. Tell her that starting today, Jiang Jianwen here’s her little brother. She’s been pining over raising someone ever since Jin Ling got to be too old to snuggle.”

The kid looked up with wide eyes.

“No, you don’t get a choice on the name,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Whatever name this piece of crap gave you, just forget it, you hear me? You can do better than him. But no more demonic cultivation!”

-

+1

“I wish I could visit the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, looking wistfully downriver. They were very close by, but he still didn’t dare, even though Jiang Cheng had grumpily extended an invitation through Jin Ling. So much had happened – he just didn’t know where to even start.

He didn’t want to get into all that messy history with Jiang Cheng.

He just wanted to visit, that’s all.

He missed Jiang Cheng, but he missed the Lotus Pier, too. The food, the places, the air…

“I just need a secret way in that even the sect leader doesn’t know about,” he sighed. He’d once known them all – but there was a different sect leader now, and a different Lotus Pier. He couldn’t risk it: Jiang Cheng might find out that he’d snuck in and feel hurt, thinking that Wei Wuxian was avoiding him, when he was just avoiding the conversation; that would just make everything worse.

Lan Wangji would have distracted him, but Lan Wangji himself had been distracted – some man in Jiang sect colors with a heavy limp and an excited sort of air had rushed over, shouting something about wanting to talk about tax policy and possibly also games of chance, and Lan Wangji had all but fled. It had been so funny that Wei Wuxian had nearly laughed himself sick.

“I know one,” someone said, and Wei Wuxian glanced over: it was a young man in Jiang sect disciple robes, little more than a teenager – only a few years older than Jin Ling, if he had to guess. He was smiling, ducking his head a little; he looked proud of himself. “I mean, if you really want. But only if you don’t mean any harm!”

How adorable, Wei Wuxian thought, and grinned at him. “I just want something spicy without having to go through the whole process of greeting people, is that a crime?”

“Not at all!” the kid exclaimed, beaming, and Wei Wuxian almost felt bad for conning him. Almost.

“Do you really know a secret way in?” he asked, pretending to be doubtful. “Really?”

Sure enough, the kid – Jiang Jianwen, apparently, he must be the kid of one of the ones that survived the massacre – was easily lured into insisting that he did know, and then to agreeing to act as guide.

And, moreover, it turned out he really did know his way inside, which made this the easiest infiltration ever.

Or so Wei Wuxian thought right up until he felt a knife point touch his ribs.

“Well done, Jianwen!” a young woman – also in Jiang colors – said, reaching out and ruffling Jiang Jianwen’s hair.

“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, just as bashful as he was when he’d been talking to Wei Wuxian. “I couldn’t have done it without shixiong luring off Lan-er-gongzi.”

Wait, that’d been part of this, too?

That was worrisome.

“Hardly nothing,” the older woman standing behind Wei Wuxian said. She had a certain sort of rock-hard steadiness that was more worrying than the knife she was holding on him – she was a powerful cultivator, familiar with killing and scarred with a criminal’s brand, and yet she seemed entirely at ease in a way that suggested a strong sense of righteousness, with no guilt or weak points he might exploit to make an easy out. “You successfully conned the Yiling Patriarch into following you right into a trap.”

Wei Wuxian wondered if he could deny it.

“I don’t know, shijie, that doesn’t seem that hard,” the first woman said. “Isn’t he the kind of person to run head-first into danger at the first instance?”

“Head-first into danger, and like his tail’s on fire away from dogs,” the older woman agreed, and – damnit. There was clearly no denying it; they actually knew him. Though from where, he had no idea. “A-Hua, Jiangwen, let’s go – we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me who we’re going to go see?” Wei Wuxian tried, putting on his most charming smile. “Or, perhaps, who you are, and what you have against me…?”

“Jiang Jianwen you know,” the woman said, rather unexpectedly. “I’m Jiang Qiao, and this is Jiang Hua. Our shixiong is Jiang Zhou – he’s the one that makes Lan-er-gongzi lose his wallet every time he’s forced to visit Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian was almost distracted with the tantalizing prospects of stories about Lan Wangji. Almost.

“You’re all surnamed Jiang?” he asked, surprised: he might have believed it for Jiang Jianwen, maybe, he was young enough to be the son of someone in the last generation. But Jiang Hua and Jiang Qiao looked absolutely nothing alike either to each other or to Jiang Cheng, and at least Jiang Qiao was old enough that he should’ve recognized her if she’d been a Jiang. There’d been a lot of people in the old Jiang sect, even if you limited it to those surnamed Jiang, but he’d been Head Disciple back then – he’d known almost all of them.

“We’re adopted,” Jiang Jianwen said. He looked very proud. “Sect Leader Jiang took us into the family as part of the branch lines.”

Wei Wuxian had never once in his life wanted to have the surname Jiang, not even when he’d been mocked for not having it. He’d never even thought about it. Not ever.

He felt a stab of envy at the word family, though.

“He gave you his surname?” he asked, and tried not to feel jealous when they all nodded. “Oh.”

It made sense, he tried to tell himself as they walked through the back streets of the Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect had been demolished, and Jiang Cheng practically the only survivor but for whoever happened by coincidence to not be at home – the Jiang sect would need branch family members, and adoption made sense. There was no reason to resent the idea of Jiang Cheng giving the name he had always treated as being so precious to a branded former criminal, to a con man, to a commoner from the countryside, to a –

“You were a what?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“A demonic cultivator,” Jiang Jianwen said bashfully. “Not a very a good one, though.”

Wei Wuxian wanted to say something to that. He didn’t know what, but something.

“Enough chatter,” Jiang Qiao said. “We’re here.”

Jiang Hua opened the door and Wei Wuxian stepped inside.

Then he tried to step back out, only to be crowded in by the others.

“No, no, no,” he said. “No, I was willing to play along until now, but this is a step too far. You don’t understand! She’s going to eviscerate me!”

Jiang Meimei – older than the teenager he remembered her being when she left the sect, but still unmistakable – grinned with her teeth bared.

“Oh good,” she said. “At least your brain is still working. Now come on and have a seat, and we’re going to talk about how you’ve been treating my baby cousin recently…”