Xiantober Day 9 - Training
Training in the Burial Mounds is different from anywhere else he's trained before.
As Wei Wuxian chomps on another stray bone he's trying desperately not to think about, sucking with all his might for a bit of protein to quiet his aching stomach, empty of more than just food now.
After weeks (Months? Years? Impossible to tell time in a place day can't reach) spent without a core, he can just about pretend he's grown used to it. Even if he knows these frigid nights would be more manageable with a ball of bright burning energy inside.
It's fine, he won't be here for much longer. He's perfected both Chenqing and the Tiger Tally, as much as they can be in a damp cave with limited resources. He's become quite adept at creating with nothing but spare parts and ingenuity. Attempting the impossible, indeed.
Every place Wei Wuxian has trained in has had unique features of its own.
Yunmeng, where drive and comradery were second only to physical prowess and cultivation skills. Where he'd spent each day laughing with his fellow disciples as they found new ways to learn freely.
Contrasted with the Cloud Recesses, where rigidity and structure held precedence. Where rather than memorization or physical strength, Wei Wuxian trained his mind, finding loopholes and weaknesses in outdated theories.
Where he was properly challenged for the first time, by a boy so beautiful it was training just to resist the urge to chase after him. A skill Wei Wuxian happily declined to practice.
Both Lotus Pier and the Cloud Recesses had their benefits and frustrations, but there's one glaring absence Wei Wuxian misses most in the Burial Mounds.
Life.
He's grown used to being one of the few living things here, for he isn't completely alone. Besides the vengeful spirits, there are insects and rodents that have strayed far from home. Mangled and dying, but surviving none the less by sheer force of will. He understands in a way.
Training in the Burial Mounds is being surrounded by darkness and shadows, with a constantly slew of cruel whispers and ridicules the instant he fails or makes the smallest mistake. It's being surrounded by misery and hatred, feeling it flood his lungs and drown his insides.
But Wei Wuxian knows well the feeling of holding resentment and letting it go, of pushing hatred away to embrace love. Of feeling love overflow it. And that's what he uses here to take the resentment that swirls around him.
He uses his infinite love to listen to the spirits, to give them a voice where theirs was so cruelly stripped away. He listens with a kind ear, and lets the feelings claw inside him for the sake of these spirits giving him a chance, a way to fight. To protect.
Training in the Burial Mounds is its own battle, one he fights not with swords and talismans, but with love and patience.
A new challenge, one he battles even as it it slips inside and threatens to tear him apart.
But it's okay, because he can. Because he will. Because he needs to.
Soon, he thinks, soon I will leave this place. Soon I will avenge those who were wronged. Soon, I will do what I need to protect everyone.
He just needs to get through one more night.
The bone in his hand snaps in half, brittle and empty, but the fire in his eyes burns bright with life that shines in the dark and dreary Burial Mounds.
(threadfic here)
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au
this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--
his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!
So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.
Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.
Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.
And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.
Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.
Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.
He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?
Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.
Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.
They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.
Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.
He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.
His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.
Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.
It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.
He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.
Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.
He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.
He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.
Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.
It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.
It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.
"I've become my grandfather."
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Regional at Best is so special because it feels so exactly like what it is, which is an album made by a young person, younger than I am now, who'd given up everything else to make this dream work and probably had no idea what the hell he was going to do if it didn't. Keep working a normal job? Go back to college? What do you do if the dream doesn't work, when you're an early-20-something who (like all early-20-somethings) has precisely nothing else figured out? What do you do if everyone's right and the art isn't worth it?
Then your bandmates leave. But actually, it turns out perfect anyway, because you end up with this other guy who also has precisely nothing else figured out and no plan B except to be in this very band with you. How rare and precious of a thing that is, to meet someone who believes in your art just as much as you do. At least if you fail you fail together, right?
I think RAB feels like the end of summer and growing pains because it exists in that same itchy, anxious space as your last summer before you graduate high school/college, when it begins hitting you that there will never be a summer like this again because next year you're supposed to be grown up. But the truth is you never figured out how to grow up and you never figured out how to stop dreaming. So many people have to learn that lesson for various reasons, but Tyler and Josh never did because they believed in it so much that I think it truly never could've failed. Even if they never got as big as they did w/ Blurryface, I think they never could've failed because they are for the dreamers.
Self-titled is complicated and beautiful and core to everything else they would do after, but RAB is the beating heart of what tøp was always meant to be imo. It's embracing the fear of getting older because you have no other choice, while acknowledging you're still a little afraid of the dark. It's a night light for the grown-ups who are still scared of long dark hallways they can't see the end of (and work email chains). You turn 23 and discover you probably don't actually want to die as much as you used to, and also that you still think pokémon cards are fucking rad, and both of those things are okay. And maybe you'll never get out of this goddamn town but it never hurts to dream
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