#respect to him for having the face to like... step up to pick up wen ning when he got attacked and passed out? away?

[phoenixcatch7]

Random mdzs headcanons that I don't think interfere with canon:

Though sufficient cultivation cures this, lwj is short sighted. (this is because of that mxtx interview but if he actually was short sighted he would be wearing glasses in canon.) Similarly, so would lxc and lqr is already halfway there lol.

Wen chao is barely older than the main cast. Like a couple years at most. This is is because it took until his poor wife (who shall forever be unknown, rip) being mentioned for me to go 'that's an ADULT?!'. Everything from the voice to the face to the short sighted immaturity and the lying to adults in charge, there's no way this guy is anything over 20.

Lqr isn't a very strong cultivator for all his technical skill is impeccable. I think this because I thought he was young grandparent age when he's the uncle!! It's too much stress! Major props.

He's also aromantic! We know that nothing will stop a lan in love, much to their detriment, but not only does lqr seem to regard the lot of them as idiots for finding the absolute worst choices ever but I feel if he'd also loved and lost it would have been... Relevant.

Jfm was gay, and his unrequited love was wcz. Alternate sexualities (and queerness as a whole) is one of those things that's still so dangerous in many countries, and I guess ancient fantasy China is one of them! Poor mxy. Anyway that plus arranged marriages plus jfm being an only child (to my knowledge) and needing heirs... Yeah I feel like that's one of those things that happens. It's common all throughout history, forcing people into het relationships for any number of reasons or risk social (or even physical) death. I could so easily trace how that would have affected him through the courtship, marriage, his parents, him genuinely trying to love yzy and maybe deep inside knowing it was doomed to fail, her intelligence picking up on that and trying to figure out how she was unworthy, her feeling hurt and disrespected, getting more and more paranoid and sensitive as it wears on, her being so close to the right answer but correcting her would expose him. Him just trying to settle for mutual respect and teamwork and her never getting what she needs to be fulfilled in life, what she was raised and trained all her life in preparation for. The way he's so unwilling to force his kids to do anything miserable and the way he's so quick to call off the engagement when all he's hearing is disinterest and incompatibility. I could make this a whole post on its own but I fully believe this man lived and died like so many other queer people have in the past - never being able to find out who he truly was, and that he wasn't broken for not being the way he needed to be. Wangxian have an easier time of it, but when there's stories like mxy? People keep their heads down. He raised jc the way he was raised, and he turned out fine. It wasn't their fault he was such a failure of a son.

To cheer things up, I firmly believe that wwx is bisexual af. Just because lwj is his soulmate doesn't mean he's not. Are you an mxtx protag if you're simply, straightforwardly gay? I think not.

Though I do wonder if jc being Banned From Women was 100% an entirely whoopsie daisy accident. Sometimes standards are supposed to be impossible... Now I think about it, the certainty lwj hated wwx, the total lack of any partner, the focus on jl, the constant frustration with wwx's flirting and incomprehension with jyl crushing on jzx... I think the women are the only straight ones in the family, cuz he's sounding the aroace bell! Good for him tbh!!! Break the cycle!!!!

Lsh is the child of either wrh, wc, jgs, or two perfectly lovely normal people who died in war/childbirth. He was 100% a village kid, so thank goodness they all stepped up. I feel like one of the wens would have told wwx his parentage either way, so if he hasn't told anyone else I can't imagine it's great.

Each sect is associated with an element. The wens of course were fire, the nie earth, the lan air, the jin water (koi/carp tower), and the jiang are lightning (given we assume yzy and the jiang territory are compatible (her husband is probably water lol oof)). Years of specialised clan training and select marriages have caused the clan members qi to take on movement (at minimum) matching the respective elements. This is based on the anime, where everyone has nice handy colour coded qi, but the twin jades have the prettiest cloud texture that perfectly matches their crest and wwx has an almost lightning spiky red with just enough smoulder to make he sure he's a fire type. This also!!! Matches their fighting styles, have you noticed?? Idk if they did it on purpose or not but it's so cool!!! Wwx and jc are constantly moving, redirection, bounce and flip around; lwj and lxc are very twirly, lots of attacks from above, lwj often lets his sword fly mid battle, and of course the music! And the nie are very... Brick wall lol. I'd say NHS is air? Maybe? Water?

This one's a bit silly, but I like to imagine csr and bsr are mother and daughter from a distant land where people use their surnames last (gasp) and it wasn't really important to bsr cuz secluded mountain but they did figure it was going to be a problem a touch late. 'oh but phoenix they have different spellings in Chinese' csr got asked 'oh so like the immortal?' panicked and changed it on the spot. Her husband's nicknames all use her 'surname', he's the only one who knows about the mix up.

Spinning in the air helps you change an attack or helps you float. Yes this is based entirely on the anime (donghua?) where even the most serious of characters (lwj) do three full rotations before landing a big attack midair. It might be so he has time to get his guqin out lmao.

Jc is left handed, I'm pretty sure that's anime canon at least. Any good swordsman (or dual sword whip wielder!) can do a little ambidexterousness tho.

Wwx can do decent guqin cuz he's the gentleman prodigy of the arts but he probably whittled a dozen dizi out of roadside bamboo on long journeys to entertain himself which is why chengching was such a fine tuned spiritual tool.

The jiangs were a great sect lead by good people in an ehhhh family. Individually they're all actually decent people but they bring out the worst in each other even as it keeps them all in check.

I firmly believe that yzy was holding back a LOT when made to whip wwx in front of the wen wench. That's a whole entire spiritual weapon and she was going at it wildly in a barely stable environment. Compare that to lwj who took the discipline whip not too many more times (if any) and was rendered bed bound if not house bound for years recovering (and grieving) and over a decade later is still a mass of scar tissue. And that was an orderly and structured punishment using materials designed to NOT kill the victim, not a whole entire LIGHTNING MURDER WEAPON. Wwx was back on his feet minutes later sword fighting, rowing, carrying jc on his back... Lwj is the more realistic result, real whips can be lethal, and very, very dangerous. They are excruciatingly painful and if you make a mistake they can easily flay skin and muscle to crack bone. You're not supposed to strike the same patch of skin twice. Yeah wwx and his stupid pain tolerance but I truly believe him and yzy were in full accord in that moment with the roles they had to play (and jc hated every second). She could at least have apologised... in the middle of heated battle for her home and life though....

Lwjs eyes are gold and sunset and stars' YES ALSO BUT I looked at them and my immediate reaction was 'that's a bird of prey'. They're LITERALLY falcon eyes, they're identical, and I've never once seen that comparison :(. He's already piercing/intense/pinning/scouring, (and his anime eyeliner and dark lashes look like the markings) he's so perfect for the metaphor. Make it that wwx is the rabbit prey, come on.

Why is wwx sun coded but moon aesthetic and lwj moon coded but sun aesthetic like how's that fair why does it always happen.

Stop blaming wwx for Suiban he admits he came up with a zillion good names and it was jfm who didn't pick any and named it as a joke. Ngl if that was my trusted person who went and did that I would have been gutted but hey wwx thrives. I do feel like jfm naming the sword that wwx sacrifices to save jc is grounds for some angst at the very least.

Lxc was definitely in some situation with the other two because he does read as a parallel to lwj. Their romantic lives are basically inversions of each other, you could hold a graph up to a mirror. It's just that lwj was so deeply lucky to get wwx back, and he fell in love with someone true to himself. Lxc just got used and left with the ashes, no matter how much true love was on either side. Wwx chose family, kindness and community with poverty and jgy chose greed and power and wealth for total isolation. It was NHS that inverted their fates, but either brother's love could only come at the cost of the other. Poor qiren...

All those fancy huge ribbons in everyone's hair (again it's the anime donghua) are special and ridiculously sturdy ribbons given by the parents they wear in varying styles to tie it all up and as they grow up so they don't trip on it. This is a silly headcanon but I love it cuz those ribbons are stupid long and literally everyone has it. Maybe it's the mdzs equivalent of the guan ceremony?

Wwx has for sure done cannibalism.

Ooh painful headcanon time - his parents died in yiling right? And all corpses get tossed into the mounds for centuries, right? Nonzero chance wwx's parents bodies broke his fall.

Lwj gets wwx a mule for a birthday/festival cuz those guys are basically the perfect mounts humans are ever going to get, they're just v rare and infertile. They're smart and brave as donkeys and fast and strong like the horse, resulting in an animal that is down for mounted parkour with the right training. And then lwj can ride a horse alongside wwx when they go travelling ^^. Idk I just think it'd be super cute.

Wwx only comes up with good names when he's doing real bad. Names when he's doing good: Suiban, li'l apple, rulan (after his bf). Names when he's doing bad: chengqing, yin iron tally/stygian tiger amulet, compass of evil.

[ketho484]

Here's the second part of the story! Two in one day! I'm excited!

Au belongs to @frillsand

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

Chapter 2: Star of the show

The day was busy as always on his way to the studio. Wally Darling drove around in his 1967 Pontiac Firebird, painted a beautiful bright red and with modified pedals for his little legs, with a scarf over his hair and some sunglasses on his face to keep the public from recognizing him as he pulled up to the PlayFellow Studio building. Another day of work and he didn't like it. Wally loved his job, don't get him wrong, but he hated the way the employees there treated his friends when he wasn't there. It made him angry beyond comparison to any diva known in history.

Today was a bit different, though. He could feel it in his system. Today might have a surprise in store. If it was for better or for worse, Wally would have to wait and see. His friends were all waiting for him in one of the conference rooms. One of the stage hands guided him there and he sat down in a chair next to Barnaby.

"Remind me again why we're here?" Poppy asked as she scratched at her neck feathers, a nervous habit she had picked up a bit more recently

"The tailors are coming in today…" Frank said, clearly irritated. He didn't like the two tailors that were hired by PlayFellow, Eric and Jessica Mathews "I swear, if they have those plain old outfits again, I'm filing a complaint"

"I agree" Sally piped up "This is a kids' show! Kids like seeing colors and cool patterns!"

The doors burst open, and the two tailors came in, a smaller figure pushing the cart. Like usual, Eric called the names, and Jessica handed the puppet their respective costumes. The cast were all blown away by the immediate quality and embroidered detailing on their costumes. Wally was especially surprised at the quality. This was definitely a step up from the last outfit set he was forced to wear.

"Do you like it?" A little voice asked from next to him

Wally looked down to see a pair of black eyes looking up at him expectantly through her long, matted blue hair, which framed her yellow felt face. She wore a ratty gray dress with a long skirt, long sleeves, and no shoes. The little puppet in front of him was touching her index fingers together nervously as she waited for his answer.

"Uuhhh…Y-Yeah, I do" He answered, a little startled by this small puppet's question "...I'm sorry, and you are?"

"Willow" She held out a hand for him. Wally smiled and took her hand, gently shaking it

"Wally Darling. Pleased to make your acquaintance" He said sweetly, making this little girl smile

She looked behind Wally and saw the cast congratulate Eric and Jessica for the new looks they all got. Jessica tried to be humble about it, but Eric was soaking it up. She let go of Wally and frowned deeply

"He's doing it again…" She said sadly

"Huh?" Wally turned around and watched the scene "Doing what?"

"...Daddy's stealing the credit again…" She said in almost a whisper before covering her mouth

Wally looked down at Willow and noticed the fear radiating off of her. The poor little thing was trembling as she glanced between Eric and her dirty, slightly injured looking feet. Wally put his costume on the conference table and kneeled down in front of Willow. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, getting her attention as she looked him in the eye. She looked so afraid…

"…Did you make these outfits?" He asked softly as not to interrupt the conversation behind him

Willow nodded timidly

"And Eric is taking all the credit for it?"

Another nod

Wally's face darkened. Not only was a small child, and a puppet no less, doing the job Eric and Jessica were meant to be doing, but Eric was taking the credit for this kid’s work!? It made his anger burn in his chest, but he maintained his composure as best he could as he got up onto his feet. He gave Willow a signal to stay quiet. She nodded before noticing her father signal for her to come to him. The little one obliged and went over to Eric and Jessica. Jessica looked over at Wally, who looked rather pissed off, pulled a notepad and pen from her purse, and wrote something down as Willow and Eric started taking the rack back to their car. She gave a note to Wally and ran to speak with her husband

“Wow, Wally. You’ve gotta admit they really stepped up their game this time, huh?” Barnaby spoke up as Wally read the note “…Wally?”

Wally wasn’t listening at the moment as most of the others ran to their dressing rooms to try on the new costumes. The note was concerning…

‘Willow needs time away from Eric. I’ll take up sewing in her place, but is it possible she can come by the studio more often?’

Wally was snapped out of his thoughts as Barnaby gently shook his shoulder, causing the little yellow puppet to look up at his closest friend.

“Oh! Sorry, Barnaby, could you say that again?” Wally asked, clearly startled

“You okay?” Barnaby inquired as he tilted his head “You seem a bit…nervous”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine” Wally said as he placed a hand on his friend’s paw “I just remembered that I have to ask the tailors one last thing before they leave. I’ll be ready to record soon, but I need to get going” 

With that, Wally grabbed his costume and left the conference room. He left it on the door handle of his dressing room and made a mad dash for the parking lot, stopping just in time to see Eric shove poor Willow into the back of his car. That really made him angry, but he had to be polite if this was going to work.

“Wait!!!” He called out as he ran over to them, stopping Eric before he could get into the car

“M-Mister Darling” Eric spoke up, a bit nervous once Wally approached. Most employees of PlayFellow were nervous around him “H-How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to thank you for the amazing job you did” Wally said sweetly, sneaking Willow a wink as she watched from the car window “And as a token of gratitude, I’d like to offer something”

“Yes?” Eric was listening closely, not seeing Wally’s smile grow as a mischievous glint came to his black eyes

“I’d like to offer your daughter a chance to visit the studio any time she wants starting today”

[silverwings22]

Song of the Sea: Chapter 12: Swandive

Chapter Warnings: almost getting eaten, mind control, profanity, venom Series warning: explicit smut, alien anatomy (it's a monsterfucker fic, guys), major character injury, grief, canon typical violence, autistic meltdowns, and my terrible attempts at Mando'a.

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"Bracca is a junk planet." Echo grumbled. "I trust Rex, but I'm not sure what he's getting at here."

“He had to have found something.” Hunter sighed. “Not thrilled we’ll be picking through garbage, though.”

Shiani looked up from where she was fiddling with the scanner she’d helped Tech build, going through the settings while he piloted. “Garbage isn’t so bad. I lived in the garbage for four years under Tipoca City.” 

Hunter and Echo looked uncomfortable at that. Tech just glanced at her face as she kept working on the scanner. The sergeant knew Tech had wanted to bring her onboard the ship far sooner than they had, but he’d refused for the sake of their missions. He hadn’t thought too much about what her life looked like when they weren’t on Kamino. Now it was a glaring realization that punched him in the gut; Shiani had been alone in a scrap heap underwater. Abandoned in the garbage of Tipoca City. 

"Shiani… I've got something for you. Stay put a minute." The sergeant got up and walked back towards the hold. 

"Where would I go?" She smiled with a shrug at Tech. 

Tech shook his head. "I am not sure what he's up to."

When Hunter came back, he handed two rattling lengths of chain to her. "I couldn't make myself sell them. I meant to give them back sooner, but things got a little distracted."

Shiani set the scanner aside and picked up the durasteel, running her thumbs over the links. She smiled slowly, bringing them to her forehead after a moment. "Thank you." She said in a quiet voice. "Good to have them back. Feel like a siren again."

Tech gave Hunter a grateful look as she stood and put the manacles back on her wrists, adjusting the wire armbands carefully. "Meshla." He told her, getting a grin from her and a smirk from his brothers. She’d been scouring every resource she could find on Mandalorian language, customs, and history for weeks.

"Ready for the garbage planet." She patted the blaster on her hip with a grin. 

Echo chuckled. "Good. Cause we're here."

Tech sat the ship down and they all stepped out, Hunter doing his best to shield Omega's eyes from the harsh sun and dust. Shiani giggled next to Tech. "Hunter’s such a dad." She whispered. 

"He is simply being responsible for her well-being as the leader… is the dry air going to be alright on your skin?"

"Now Tech's being a mother tooka." Wrecker grinned. 

"Tech is a good friend." Shiani gave him an adoring look, one of many the rest of the Batch were getting to be familiar with, and gave his arm a quick trio of squeezes. I love you. "There’s Captain Rex."

Sure enough, the blue painted white armor was trudging towards them eagerly. She realized after a moment that Rex must have been the captain Echo had told her about when he’d told her what cyar’ika meant. He had Mandalorian jaig eyes on his helmet, which she hadn’t seen when he’d come to the Parlor. It spoke to the type of brave he must have been, and filled in a few blanks she’d been wondering over since she’d first met the blonde clone. Namely how the squad notorious for not getting along with “regs” seemed to have so much respect for him. "Good to see you boys. And ladies." 

Omega beamed at the recognition, Shiani just nodded with a smile. "What treasure did you find in the trash?"

"The Venator over this way. The medical pods inside should be intact… it's the only way I know to get those chips out."

The group went silent and nodded, remembering the very real reason they were there. Wrecker squirmed uncomfortably. "I hate this."

"It'll be okay." Omega took his hand, and Shiani saw her giving him three squeezes.

Wrecker looked at her curiously. “What are you doing?”

Omega waved for him to lean down to her so she could whisper. “It’s a secret code Shiani taught me. Three squishes means I love you.”

Wrecker smiled a little. “Aww, Omega…”

“So don’t worry! Everyone will be right there with you." She went back to normal volume after sharing her “secret”. 

"Easy for you to say. No one's cutting open your head." Wrecker’s worried frown returned immediately.

"Technically, all of our heads except for her and Shiani." Tech sighed. "But the alternative is unacceptably risky."

"You’re going to be okay. Me and Baby Mega will protect you." The siren patted the big clone's back. "Come on."

They followed Rex through the sand, having to duck once to hide from Scrapper guildsmen. "They won't like it if we're operating on their turf. And they'll have no problem contacting the Empire." The captain explained. 

Shiani hissed softly at the mention of the Empire, covering her mouth. Her personal experience was relatively limited, but the story Tech had told about Tarkin and the fate of the regs was enough to make her fangs glisten with venom. The Empire was no better than the long-necks of centuries ago, who'd stripped everything from her people. Now a new evil did it to the clones. . 

"Here it is. Original Venator class, first off the line." Rex looked up at the scrapped ship when they reached it, and they could almost hear the smile under his helmet. 

"Kinda like you, Rex." Wrecker teased. 

"Knock it off and climb." Rex huffed and they started their ascent inside. Tech frowned when both Hunter and Shiani stiffened at a miniature lake that had formed in the belly of the ship. 

"What's wrong?" Omega tugged the sergeant's hand.

"Just stay above the waterline." He cautioned, getting between her and the murky puddle. 

Tech looked at Shiani. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded, pushing him slightly further from the water. "You stay close to me, okay?."

They worked their ways up, until they reached an open chasm from a collapsed deck. Rex pulled a large cable up. "Guess it's time to make a bridge. Wrecker, throw this over."

"You know, my head doesn't hurt anymore… you guys go on without me." He squirmed.

"Need me to sing?" The siren offered gently. "Don’t be scared, Wrecker."

He nodded, helmet pushed up on his head to reveal very unhappy eyes. "I hate heights…"

Shiani smiled and wrapped herself around the end of the cable. "Throw me. I’ll sing for you when you go across."

Wrecker swallowed hard and nodded, picking up the end. "Okay…"

When he tossed the cable, she let out a delighted little noise on her flight across before securing the end for the others. "Be careful!"

Rex went first, followed by Omega and Hunter. Echo sighed at his one hand and made it using his elbows, cursing in Mando’a under his breath. Tech followed, focused and calm, leaving only Wrecker. 

"I could really use that song now." Wrecker mumbled. 

Shiani stood on the edge and cupped her hands around her mouth, pouring out an echo of that emboldening note from before. Echo nudged Rex as Wrecker started inching his way over. "It's pretty, and damn does it help. But it sounds like this herding call I saw on the holonet once, and now all I can think is she's bantha-calling us."

Rex laughed. 

Wrecker was feeling a bit better about this whole adventure when the cable popped, and he went plummeting down. Omega was screaming his name when the cable caught, fortunately around his ankle instead of his neck.

"Wrecker, you okay?!" Shiani yelled.

"It smells awful down here! Pull me up!" He groaned, trying to bend at the waist to get his hands on the cable. His bulky armor made it difficult. 

The rest of the squad started pulling obediently when Hunter spotted a shadow under the surface. "Shit! It's a dianoga."

He grabbed Omega when she started to run for the edge in a panic. Nobody, however, grabbed Shiani. 

The siren took a running leap and dove off the ledge headfirst, dropping like a dart into the water just as a pink tentacle grabbed Wrecker and dragged him under. Tech darted to the edge, eyes wide. "Shiani!"

The water was roiling viciously, too murky to see clearly, until Wrecker popped up with a terrified gasp. Then Shiani appeared, wrapped entirely around one of the dianoga's limbs. She was holding on with her own tentacles, teeth clamped hard into its flesh as her claws ripped at it. When she glanced up and saw Wrecker had cleared the water, she disappeared again and let go, shooting down to the bottom and letting the creature chase her while she delivered another series of bites anywhere she could reach. It chased her around for a while, unable to match her speed, until the venom did its work and it passed out at the bottom of the pool.

Wrecker anxiously waited, clinging to the cable with wide eyes, until she surfaced. "You okay?" She peeped.

"Are you?" He reached a hand down and she took it, pulling herself up with him and wrapping her tentacles around the cable to secure them both. 

She wiped her mouth on her hand, smearing dirty water and dianoga blood across her face. "Ick."

The rest of the clones hauled them to safety, Omega tackling Wrecker in a hug. Tech had definitely been scared, as he grabbed Shiani and pulled her to his chest without even a second glance at the mess all over her. He was usually so particular about dir. "Are you injured?" He cupped her face in both hands to inspect it.

"No. I’m okay." She smiled. 

"What were you thinking? That was a fully grown dianoga, it could have eaten you."

"Nothing’s faster than a siren in the water." She nuzzled into his hands. "Wrecker was in trouble, so I helped."

Tech sighed and hugged her to him again. "Do not… scare me that way. I thought you would be killed."

“I’m okay, Tech." She headbutted his shoulder, but hugged back with a trio of squeezes. Wrecker and Omega both saw it, and exchanged a slow grin.

Tech just nodded, squeezing her a little tighter before letting go. "Just… please be cautious."

They turned around to find everyone else smirking at them. "Alright, you two. Just a little further to the med bay." Rex chuckled. 

The men all turned to follow, back to business like they hadn't almost seen two people get eaten. Omega reached for Shiani. "How do they just get over stuff so fast?" The little girl whispered. 

"Soldiers see lots of bad things." Shiani shook her head sadly. "Just got used to it. The only thing we can do is try to keep up, and try to be brave."

Omega nodded and clung to her hand as they entered the med bay. It was a dark, creepy place with a clear womp rat problem. Even soaked to the skin with stagnant water and dianoga blood, Shiani picked her tentacles up off the floor and wrapped them around her waist. 

"This is not what I would consider sterile." Tech adjusted his goggles. 

"You want to try the facility on Kamino?" Rex huffed.

"... point taken." He sighed. "Wrecker, come here. I've analyzed the data from our scans and compared it to Rex and Omega's. With this, I should be able to identify the chip location for removal."

An unhappy Wrecker sat down on a gurney, rubbing his temple as Tech scanned him. Shiani was distracting Omega by holding her in the air with her tentacles and rotating her like a puzzle cube, since the girl was clearly nervous about the whole situation, when she felt something shift in the air. Like the sudden presence of a barracuda among a batch of eggs, it had her spinning on her heel and pushing Omega back behind her. Wrecker’s face had shifted, his typical sheepish smile now a vicious glower. "Get that away from me." He hissed.

Tech blinked, looking up just as his brother caught him by the throat and hurled him into the wall. 

Hunter, Echo, and Rex jumped. "Wrecker, what the hell?!" Hunter’s voice was tight, realizing very quickly that Wrecker was much too big to be fucking with when he was determined to hurt them.

"You're all in violation of Order 66! You're all traitors!" Wrecker snarled.

“The chip.” Shiani swallowed hard. Fuck.

He rushed the guys, who were scrambling for their blasters, when Shiani jumped on his back. Her arms locked tight around his neck, legs at his hips and her tentacles pinning his arms to his sides before he could get to his weapon. "Wrecker stop. Stop!" She tried to keep her voice level in his ear, clinging as he bucked and struggled to throw her off him. "This isn’t you. It’s the chip!"

She didn't want to hurt him. He was her friend, Tech's brother, but she couldn't let him hurt everyone else. So she hung on even as he threatened to tear every tendon she had with his strength. They’d wrestled before, but he seemed stronger now. Maybe it was because he didn’t care if he hurt her right now. When he finally wised up and slammed his back into the wall, she whimpered painfully. "Let go, bitch!"

"Don’t talk like that… in front of Baby Mega." She wheezed before resorting to drastic measures and sinking her teeth into the side of his neck. 

Wrecker yowled at the bite, slamming her into the wall twice more before his brothers hit him with several stun rounds and he finally went limp from the combination of shocks and venom. Shiani rolled off him and lay on her back, blinking up at the dingy durasteel ceiling until Hunter and Echo’s concerned faces appeared. "Hey. You okay?" The cyborg fretted.

"Ow." She mumbled, letting him help her upright and covering her mouth in the crook of her elbow. "He’s strong..."

"Yeah. Lemme see, kid." He pulled up the back of her shirt and winced at the immediate display of green coloring bruises. "Shit. I gotta check your ribs."

“Where’s Tech?” She winced. “Is he okay?”

"He's coming to." The captain sighed. "This is what I was worried about."

"Better here than Ord Mantell." Shiani grumbled as a cold scomp prodded her sore but surprisingly unbroken ribcage. "Wrecker’s gonna be itchy when he wake up… Sorry, didn't want to bite…"

"You did what you had to. We'll get him in the pod. You and Tech lay down for a minute." Hunter ordered. Echo helped her to the gurney Rex had dumped Tech in unceremoniously. She curled up against him, checking his neck as he came mostly back to consciousness.

"You okay?" She breathed, fingers moving against his newly acquired bruises. 

"I am mostly unharmed." He winced when he spotted the greening marks coming out from under her crop top. "I cannot say the same for you."

"Just bruises. I’ll be fine." She put her head against his shoulder, holding onto him worriedly. Tech just sighed and let her as the others dragged Wrecker into a pod and got to work on his head. 

"I should have anticipated this being a possibility, with what we knew of the chips and the trauma of that fight with the dianoga." He finally muttered. "But violence against any of us is still so far out of Wrecker’s nature…"

"Not Wrecker. The chip." Shiani mumbled, not lifting her head. "Wrecker’s gonna be upset when he realizes what he did. He didn’t want to hurt anyone… just like Crosshair."

"Wise words, cyar’ika." Tech put his chin on her head. Public displays were not his thing, but after almost getting murdered by his big little brother… maybe a cuddle was in order. They watched in silence as Wrecker’s procedure went through, him coming out unconscious. Echo went next, then Hunter. Rex explained the process as he worked the pod controls, Tech nodding and making notes on his datapad until it was his turn. "I'll be right back." He finally untangled himself begrudgingly from the siren’s limbs.

She nodded, hands squeezing his three times before finally letting go. I love you.

He smiled heedlessly and returned the gesture before he climbed into the pod. She knew he didn’t understand what it meant, but that was okay. She could pretend, and keep pretending as long as he came out of that pod safely.

Rex glanced over at the siren as she walked over to watch him go under. "He's gonna be fine."

"Better be. I’d fight the Melody and Harmony themselves for Tech." She smiled, standing beside him to watch Tech's face. Even if the scalpel moving towards him made her uncomfortable, she'd be right there next to him for every unpleasant moment. 

"That was brave, kid. Jumping on Wrecker like that." The captain commented after a minute. "You're no soldier, I'd expect you to freeze up."

"I promised… if I ever got off Kamino, I’d never let anything happen to my new family." She touched her chains lightly. "I was scared, yes. But being scared doesn’t mean stop. Chainbreakers were scared, but they kept going. I have to keep going too, for what really matters."

"I could use a fighter like you, you know. Against the Empire." He glanced back where Hunter was starting to wake up. "All of you would be a great asset."

"Hunter’s not going to take Baby Mega into war." She shook her head. "He wants better for her. And Tech won’t leave his brothers. I won’t leave Tech."

"That's a pity, but I get it. I don't like fighting another war… but for me, it's the right thing to do."

Shiani patted his back. "I know. You have brave hearts, and you’ll do what you can to help other clones. If we can, Hunter will probably let us help you sometimes. He has good hearts too, just other things to worry about now. A Mandalorian took one look at the scared little one and had to adopt them. I read about it, just like I read about those eyes on your helmet."

Rex chuckled. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

When Tech came out of the pod, Shiani climbed into the gurney with him and made herself into a backpack once again. Echo, now awake, nudged Hunter and smiled. "Girls are something else, vod."

"Yeah they are." Hunter agreed, looking over where Omega was sitting vigil by Wrecker and had refused to move. 

 They really were. And they deserved that loyalty in return… he'd overheard some of what Rex had said to Shiani. He knew what the captain was going to ask him. And Shiani had been right about his answer. 

Shiani was laying in front of Tech now, eyes closed as he gently ran his fingers down her bruised back and inspected it. They were still waiting for Wrecker to wake, but he'd assured everyone that the giant's vitals were stable. "Venom should wear off soon." She mumbled sleepily.

"Good. I will get you some bacta as soon as we return to the Marauder." He breathed. "This appears painful."

"Touching feels nice though." She smiled. Her head was pillowed on his bicep, and he'd kindly removed that armor to make it more comfortable for her. "I remember when you didn’t like touching."

"I generally do not. You are special." He paused. “I recognize that I am still less physically affectionate with you than you are with me.” He sounded like he was thinking. “Is that a siren trait?”

“We touch a lot. Some of our language is touch based.” She shrugged and winced at the motion. “We share feelings between touch and song. Especially strong emotions.”

“Such as?” He paused, fingers splayed across her scapula.

“Sharing grief. Comforting fear. Soothing anger. Showing love.” She hesitated on the last part, but decided she couldn’t lie. He didn’t have to think too hard about how she felt about him. They were only talking about sirens in general, right?

“I see.” He murmured. “I suppose it is a good thing I tolerate your touch better than most others. You are special, as I said.” His fingers went back to moving soothingly over her aching back.

"I like being special." She turned to look up at him. "Your neck okay?"

"Yes." He reassured her. 

Behind him, he heard a groan. Shiani turned back around to see Wrecker wake up slowly and put his hand on Omega's head where she napped fitfully in the chair beside him. 

Her eyes opened immediately. "Wrecker! You're okay!"

"Hey kid…" He blinked when she dove into his arms, hugging her impossibly gently for such a big man. "I'm sorry, Omega. I tried to stop it, I really did…"

"It wasn't your fault." She sniffled. "I'm just glad you're okay."

He rubbed his neck when he let her go, wincing at the sting and itch of the blackened siren bite. "Everyone else okay?"

"We’re okay." Shiani got up and walked over. "Sorry I bit you."

"I kinda deserved it." He shrugged sheepishly. He got a six limbed hug for his troubles. "I'm sorry, Shiani…"

"It wasn’t you. And the chip is gone now, so it's okay." She smiled, squishing his arm with her hands three times and giving him a wink when he looked at her. “You’re a good brother. I know that.” 

Beside her, Omega held up a handful of something sweet smelling. "The mission is over… we can't break tradition."

Wrecker nodded and took a piece of the offered snack before Omega offered one to Shiani. "What is this, Baby Mega?" The siren picked a piece up in her claws.

"Mantell Mix!" The girl grinned. 

Shiani blinked. "That explains the charges on our account from Cid." She popped the snack in her mouth. "You two eat lots of snacks."

"We can probably find something in this scrap to pay Cid off." Hunter sighed and walked over. "Good to have you back, Wrecker. Stop putting snacks on tab."

Wrecker just grinned weakly. "I'll make it up to you guys."

"You better." Echo huffed, but he was glad Wrecker was back to himself too. And when Omega gave him some Mantell Mix, he could kind of see the appeal. 

[yusukenui]

mdzs novel stay safe from me today only cause the episode had enough recoil damage to put me to sleep before 2 am

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[nie-smh-my-head-huaisang]

I’ve been playing Pokemon Legends Arceus, and then gremlin brain came in and was like “hey, combine this with your current special interest” and I did. and then i was also like “oh fuck i’ve been neglecting xisang my boys shit”

Pokemon AU but it has PLA flavor added.

spoilers for the general premise of PLA.

So NHS gets isekai-ed into the past, and lands in Gusu.

So NHS didn’t have much going for him back home, he was an only child which was bullshit because he has such baby brother energy. “that doesn’t sound right OP, I distinctly remember him having a brother” shhhh

 Pokemon Professor Lan Qiren sees this kid fall out of the sky and is like “What the fuck?” He’s busy trying to catch his pokemon, he doesn’t have time for this.

Then NHS walks right up to Rowlet and picks him up and buries his face in this bird. LQR takes him in because this boy is going to get killed if he doesn’t step in. Rowlet decides he likes NHS and allows the babying.

Now LWJ is off doing his Hanguang Jun thing in the wild, so LXC is the one who gets to meet NHS and show him around. LXC is in awe of the fact that this boy was able to get Rowlet to love him. Since LXC doesn’t have his own brother around to dote on, he dotes on NHS. And then he starts really doting on NHS.

So NHS is part of the Cloud Recesses Expedition team, which is really just an excuse for NHS to get so many birds.

So they hit up Qinghe, and meet LXC’s homie, NMJ. NMJ takes one look at NHS and is like “is anyone going to be a brotherly and reluctantly fatherly figure in this guy’s life?” and didn’t wait for anyone to answer.

I gave him a Luxray because i couldn’t think that hard about a perfect pokemon for him, but friend mars said Kengaskhan was his spirit pokemon and she was of course right about that and is very tall and handsome.

since he didn’t have a little brother, he didn’t have a second mom, so Kengaskhan.

copy paste some notes from discord:

AU lore, Jin Sect's got the money and they have stuff but they're all a little too shiny and pretty to actually catch pokemon.  JZXuan is the only person in the main family that has his own dog that respects him because he caught him. JGY showed up already having a pokemon. MXY, a baby, has a Mudbray. LTF has a mudkip because mudkip is my favorite. Nie Sect values a strong bond with pokemon and training is a big part of Nie Sect life. if you can't wrestle a bear, then by the end of your visit with NMJ, you will. Jiang sect is real big on testing the limits of a pokemon and their partner. water pokemon. JC has like 6 joltiks since he can't have dog shaped pokemon, all from YZY's galvantula. JYL gets a milotic because uhhhh, pretty water pokeyman. WWX, ghost pokemon trainer. Lan Sect wants to know what the fuck is going on with pokemon, how do they work and how do we befriend them? LXC has a pacharisu that hates his guts because i thought it was funny at 4am and it stuck. LWJ is out on his pokemon journey, going where the chaos is. WWX is the chaos, man is so good at pokemon. LQR has a drampa. Wen Sect is the Jin Sect run down but on x-games mode. NHS, local isekai protag, is wondering how hard he can girlboss gatekeep there isn't a third one this place. all bird team.

anyway, from then on, it gets a little less xisang and more “haha, mdzs au” but that’s just cause i’m fleshing out the universe so that xisang make out all over it.

So in the Jin Sect, it’s pretty normal to hire someone else to catch a pokemon for you. JZXuan however was like, “fuck that” and went out on his own and nearly got mauled, but he made it out with a shiny growlith, and their bond is so fucking good.

JZXun however could not catch his own pokemon. he hired someone to get him a shiny poochyena, and like. it follows directions but their bond is not strong.

WWX has a phantump that he caught when he was young. It was his first pokemon and his baby. Unfortunately for the baby, when JFM asked him what he was going to name his baby, WWX was like “eh, whatever” because like his mother before him, he was just going to end up calling him his baby forever anyway. So Subian the phantump is WWX’s closest friend.

Now this is a happy au. No major character death. So Sunshot. no big downers.

So why and how does WC shove WWX into the Burial Mounds? Well.

runs

so WWX is shoved into the burial mounds, and WC takes Subian which acts as a “trade” and Subian evolves into a Trevenant and gets super fucking pissed off, going on a rampage.

It does not calm down until WWX shows back up, alive because a ghost horse found him and didn’t stomp him to death. Horse is Chenqing.

And uh. Subian takes a liking to A-Yuan when he shows up, because he understands that they are both just scared children left behind to face the world. the key difference is that WWX had found him sooner.

And that’s most of what i got so far.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Have a fluffy thought for distraction: discussion conference at Cloud Recesses, sect leader Jiang has not returned to the talks after a break and no one can find him. Hours later someone goes to feed the bunnies and finds him in the meadow, covered in bunnies. Maybe he's asleep, maybe he's awake, either way he can't move because that would disturb the bunnies and you don't disturb animals that picked you as their seat :3 he lives in the meadow now.

A field of rabbits

Well it certainly distracted me into writing XD <3

When everyone files back into the conference room and Jiang Wanyin is nowhere to be seen, Nie Mingjue doesn’t immediately panic. 

This is the Cloud Recesses after all, and it’s highly unlikely that he got attacked or ran into some trouble here. After Wen Xu managed to burn the Cloud Recesses, they made sure that it’s one of the most fortified places right after the Unclean Realm and possibly Lotus Pier.

Jiang Wanyin might be a magnet for trouble, and he might look for fights more than anyone else Nie Mingjue knows except himelf, but the chances that he found either here are slim to none.

It’s much more likely that there was an emergency with his Sect that he has to deal with before he can come back to the conference. 

It happened before and it will happen again; after all, they are all Sect Leaders here and there are always issues the second in command can’t deal with on their own.

Nie Mingjue has the utmost understanding for that.

But when Lan Qiren steps into the room and frowns, before worry visibly clouds over his face that’s the moment unease makes itself known in Nie Mingjue’s belly.

If Jiang Wanyin had to deal with something else, then he would have notified Lan Qiren, there’s no doubt about that.

Jiang Wanyin has the utmost respect for Lan Qiren and he would never be late or miss a meeting intentionally, not without telling Lan Qiren or informing him otherwise.

But it doesn’t seem like Lan Qiren knows what happened to Jiang Wanyin either, and that’s cause to worry.

People are already starting to whisper about his absence and Nie Mingjue clenches his fist.

Jiang Wanyin has been leading his Sect for over three years now; bringing it back from the brink and restoring it to much of its former glory and still people are talking about him as if he’s a helpless teenager who doesn’t deserve their respect or fear.

Nie Mingjue hates it with every fibre of his being, because Jiang Wanyin has stepped up for his Sect in a way not many would have been able to and it itches him to snap at all of them.

It’s only Lan Qiren who catches his gaze that stops him.

“Sect Leader Jiang has been delayed by an important issue. He is requesting for Sect Leader Nie’s assistance, so if you would, please,” Lan Qiren says with a meaningful glance towards Nie Mingjue and Nie Mingjue nods his understanding.

Lan Qiren has no goddamn clue where Jiang Wanyin is and he wants him to look for him.

Nie Mingjue will more than gladly do that.

There is no real danger here that could have befallen Jiang Wanyin, but Nie Mingjue still worries.

He has never seen anyone with eye rings that deep or black, especially since Jiang Wanyin is otherwise almost deathly pale and the concern that he might have just dropped dead is a real one.

Jiang Wanyin is pushing himself far too hard.

Nie Mingjue asks every disciple he sees if they have seen Jiang Wanyin but he only gets vague answers in return.

It seems like Jiang Wanyin vanished like a shadow.

Nie Mingjue feels frustration rise in him when he makes his way through the entire Cloud Recesses with no sign of Jiang Wanyin.

“You think the rabbits will be mad that we didn’t feed them?” Nie Mingjue hears a disciple say suddenly and he frowns. 

“I think better the rabbits than Sect Leader Jiang,” another voice replies and before Nie Mingjue can inquire about what they mean, they are gone.

But he finally has a lead and so he follows the path that leads to the meadow with the rabbits.

He used to come here a lot with Lan Xichen when they were both younger and less burdened but ever since the Sunshot Campaign neither of them have the time for this anymore.

His feet still remember the path well though, and it’s not long before the first rabbits come into view.

The rabbits and a figure clad in purple.

Nie Mingjue breathes a little bit easier just for having found Jiang Wanyin but then it registers in his mind that Jiang Wanyin is splayed out on the ground, not moving or talking, and the worry comes back with a vengeance.

Nie Mingjue stealthily makes his way over to Jiang Wanyin, but as soon as he gets closer he realizes that Jiang Wanyin is breathing easily and deeply and he seems more relaxed than Nie Mingjue has ever seen him.

He just fell asleep then. That’s good.

Nie Mingjue has to bite back a smile when one of the startled rabbits makes its way back onto Jiang Wanyin’s stomach, where it promptly falls back asleep.

Nie Mingjue is unsure if the rabbits climbed on Jiang Wanyin and prevented him from leaving, causing him to fall asleep, or if Jiang Wanyin fell asleep and the rabbits claimed him as their bed, but it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is that Jiang Wanyin finally got some rest.

Nie Mingjue carefully sits down next to him, but of course Jiang Wanyin startles awake. It seems like the war and the stress are still too close.

“Relax,” Nie Mingjue lowly says, taking care not to startle the rabbits any more than Jiang Wanyin’s violent waking up did and Nie Mingjue watches fondly as the same rabbit as before makes its bed on Jiang Wanyin’s stomach yet again.

It seems to be a particularly good spot for sleeping.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Wanyin asks him and his voice is rough enough to suggest that he at least slept for most of their break.

That’s good.

“Looking for you,” Nie Mingjue lowly gives back and puts a hand to Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder when he tries to get up. “Relax,” he says again and Jiang Wanyin does sink back into the grass, but there’s tension in his face now.

“The break is over,” he whispers, sounding horrified and Nie Mingjue nods.

“It is, but don’t worry. Lan Qiren has your back.”

“What did he say?” Jiang Wanyin asks as if he fears the answer.

“That there has been an important issue. You asked for my help, if you’re wondering,” Nie Mingjue says easily and then lays down on the grass as well. “And I like what you’re doing so I’ll join you.”

“Sect Leader Nie—” Jiang Wanyin starts but Nie Mingjue doesn’t let him speak.

“Mingjue. Nie Mingjue if you must,” he corrects him and then closes his eyes as the first curious rabbits start to explore him.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Wanyin whispers after a long moment and Nie Mingjue blinks over to him.

“What for?”

“Missing the conference. Making you miss it, too. You can go back if you want to, and I’ll follow soon.”

Nie Mingjue eyes first the rabbit on his own stomach and then the numerous ones on Jiang Wanyin and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t think either of us will. You don’t move if an animal has chosen you as their sleeping spot. It’s just not done. Believe me, I know. Huaisang has many birds who like to sit on me and you’re simply not allowed to disturb them. It’s an unwritten law,” Nie Mingjue tells him and reaches out for another rabbit to add it to the ones already on Jiang Wanyin.

“And would you look at that, another one chose you. You can leave even less now.”

Jiang Wanyin is staring at him with wide eyes and Nie Mingjue is absolutely unprepared to see tears well up in them.

It seems like Jiang Wanyin wasn’t prepared for that either if the panic in his eyes is any indication and Nie Mingjue does the only thing he can think of.

He plops a rabbit onto Jiang Wanyin’s face.

The rabbit doesn’t struggle like Nie Mingjue expected it to and instead stays on his face for long, long moments, and Jiang Wanyin doesn’t make a move to dislodge it either.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng finally croaks out again and Nie Mingjue sighs, before he crosses his arms behind his head.

“There is no need to be. You’re pushing yourself too hard. Lan Qiren and I worry. It’s good for you to take some time off and where better to do it than here. Lan Qiren will inform us if there’s anything important, but you should know how these things go by now. Sect Leader Yao will think he’s the most important man in the room until Jin Guangshan reminds him that he is in fact the most important man in the room and by then it will be evening. It’s not like we’re going to miss much.”

“True,” Jiang Wanyin says with a snort, which finally makes the rabbit move off his face.

There are no more tears in his eyes, but Jiang Wanyin seems bone-deep exhausted.

“Rest some more. I’ll make sure no one disturbs us,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Wanyin closes his eyes with a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be this weak,” he mutters under his breath and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“You’re human,” he gives back. “And your body has needs. Sleep is one of them.”

“I don’t have time to sleep,” Jiang Wanyin whispers but he closes his eyes.

“You do now. So make the best of it,” Nie Mingjue advises him and he’s pretty sure Jiang Wanyin falls asleep before he even finishes talking.

Nie Mingjue stares at him for a moment longer—he didn’t quite realize that Jiang Wanyin was so tired that he would basically drift off in the middle of a conversation—but it’s not really a surprise, not with how exhausted he looks.

He watches Jiang Wanyin for a while, looking for any kind of movement, but he seems to be deep into sleep already and so Nie Mingjue turns his head back to look at the sky.

He’ll have to talk to Lan Qiren so they can figure out how to efficiently help Jiang Wanyin lessen the burden of leadership.

Jiang Wanyin is one of the good ones and it would be a shame to lose him to stress and sleep-deprivation this soon.

Nie Mingjue will make sure that he leads a healthier lifestyle than Lan Qiren and Nie Mingjue did back when they took over their respective Sects.

And the first step for that is to let Jiang Wanyin sleep in a field of rabbits. It seems like a good start.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[antebunny]

Lan Wangji: Damsel-in-Distress

If Lan Wangji had known it was this easy to get Wei Ying to do what he wanted, he would’ve put himself in mortal peril a long time ago.

He has this realization when they’re retreating from the Wens. Despite Wei Ying’s new, dangerous powers successfully turning the tide of war in their favor, the Sunshot Campaign still loses battles and takes losses. But Nie Mingjue rarely loses battles, and Wei Ying has never lost a battle he participated in, which makes this battle a special case. 

Their intelligence underestimated the number of Wens in this region, so when Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin launch an attack shortly after sunrise, leading the Lan and Jiang cultivators into battle, their forces falter under the onslaught of Wens. 

The Wen supervisory office is bathed in blood when Wei Ying arrives. He collapsed after the last battle, and Jiang Wanyin elected to head into battle anyway, under the premise that it would allow Wei Ying more time to rest. Lan Wangji very much disapproves of Jiang Wanyin’s decision to let Wei Ying continue demonic cultivation, even if it is winning them the war, but he has to admit that he does care for Wei Ying in other ways. But Jiang Wanyin’s plan backfired, because instead of winning the battle and successfully giving Wei Ying the day to rest, the battle instead dragged on, until the day sunk into night and they were forced to admit they were losing.

Lan Wangji is knee-deep in dead bodies and blood, guarding the retreat of their forces, when he steps into the array. He misses it because of the sheer volumes of blood, running from an endless number of sword wounds. He stands facing the entrance of the supervisory office, back to the retreating Lans and Jiangs. Jiang Wanyin is ten paces behind him, Zidian one violet blur around him. 

The shrieking of Chenqing heralds Wei Ying’s arrival, and Lan Wangji is just as displeased as he is pleased. He spares himself one glance back, and sees Wei Ying standing on the roof of a nearby building, corpses already rallying to his song. Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin make brief eye contact.

“Go,” Lan Wangji tells him. “Wei Ying and I will cover the retreat.”

If Jiang Wanyin resents being told what to do, he sees the sense in Lan Wangji’s words and nods sharply. The Lans hesitate to abandon their Hanguang-jun, but a sharp gesture from Lan Wangji sends them after Jiang Wanyin and his contingent of cultivators. 

At the same time, Wei Ying advances, jumping off the roof and joining his ranks of corpses. Lan Wangji pushes down his usual revulsion upon seeing Wei Ying walking amongst the corpses. He retreats to the top of the steps while the corpses of Wen and Jiang alike line up at the bottom, Wei Ying at their head. The Wen cultivators hesitate to chase after the retreating cultivators, scared by the presence of Wei Ying. Instead, they cluster outside the main door but before the stairs, surrounding Lan Wangji in a loose semi-circle.

Lan Wangji’s fingertips are bloody on the strings of his guqin when he feels the array flare up around him. 

Immediately, Lan Wangji tenses, and inspects the array for weaknesses. Wei Ying runs up the stairs, but red light flares up when he tries to break the array, and Wei Ying is pushed back, hissing in pain. A moment later they both realize that the array is a repurposed protective array, meant to keep out demonic energy. This includes, of course, demonic cultivation, and by extension, Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s mind is already racing with possible solutions, and clearly Wei Ying’s is doing the same, if the grim smile that settles on his face is any indication. It takes the Wens a further five seconds to recognize the array, at which point they all level their swords and begin to run towards Lan Wangji. 

There’s only two meters between the Wens and the array, and about two seconds before the Wens reach the array. During those two seconds, time for Lan Wangji slows to a near standstill. 

The array trapping Lan Wangji is perhaps one and a half meters in diameter. Wei Ying can very easily direct his corpses around it and kill all the Wens at the top of the stairs. But the Wens, unlike the corpses, can enter the array. Wei Ying cannot enter the array, and Lan Wangji cannot leave. The only way Lan Wangji can leave is if someone enters the array and takes him out–these arrays are nominally made by cultivators to protect non-cultivators who find themselves in the middle of a night hunt or some such danger. 

This means Lan Wangji will be fighting however many Wens can fit inside the array, which by his estimate is up to twenty at a time. Although Lan Wangji is confident that he can defeat twenty Wen cultivators, he knows that he cannot fight the entire army, especially not after having fought for the entire day. 

In other words, Lan Wangji is about to die.

This all passes through his mind in less time than it takes the Wens to realize what the array even is, which means that he’s turning back to look at Wei Ying one last time when the Wens actually start running. Wei Ying, having come to the same conclusion perhaps faster than Lan Wangji, has set his corpse army into motion by the time Lan Wangji turns back to look at him. The corpses flood past Lan Wangji, roaring and snarling, but Lan Wangji already knows that they won’t slow the Wens down enough. 

So instead of turning around to defend himself, he finds himself staring at Wei Ying’s face, even though Wei Ying’s familiar silver eyes are instead demonic red, and his pretty face is twisted in a dangerous smile.

Wei Ying presses a hand to his chest and then draws it away. Shadows follow, swirling all around his body like Wei Ying’s very presence causes resentment to the world. They hiss and shift like writhing snakes, lashing against Wei Ying’s control until his face twists with effort. 

“Here,” Wei Ying says. “Catch.”

And then he hurls the resentful energy like the world’s deadliest toy. The massive cloud of demonic energy quickly seeps into the Wen soldiers, who freeze in place, suddenly battling an invisible energy. Soon, screams split the air, as grown men crumple under a fraction of the power Wei Ying wields. 

Used to wield. 

Wei Ying looks so much smaller without his deadly aura. His eyes shine a familiar silver as he takes the one step he needs to cross the array. A shiver runs through him as he does, and he staggers on the other side of the array. His fingers wrap around Lan Wangji’s wrist, and his grip is much weaker than Lan Wangji thought it would be. 

“Well, don’t take your time, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chides with dark humor. “It’s not like we have all day.”

He pulls Lan Wangji out of the array, and collapses nearly the moment he’s out. Lan Wangji doesn’t waste a moment before scooping Wei Ying up in his arms. He steps onto Bichen, guqin on his back, and flies off as fast as his shaking limbs can carry him, leaving the Wens behind to deal with the corpses.

Lan Wangji arrives at camp with spots dancing in his vision, and Wei Ying in his shaking arms. Wei Ying, who is free from demonic cultivation. 

Drunk on this victory, Lan Wangji promptly faints.

-

Lan Wangji curses his body’s limitations when he next wakes up and discovers that during the time he was unconscious, Wei Ying woke up and promptly picked up demonic cultivation again. He witnessed firsthand how weak Wei Ying was in the moments after he removed all the demonic energy from his body, so he has no doubt that Wei Ying was scared. But if only he hadn’t fainted, if only he’d been there when Wei Ying woke up to support him through this temporary weakness and encourage him to pick up Suibian instead of Chenqing–

It’s no use, he tells himself. What’s done is done. What he focuses on instead is the moment he looked back at Wei Ying and saw his face set in grim determination. He knows that Wei Ying realized everything he did, which means he looked at Lan Wangji trapped in the array and made a choice: Lan Wangji or demonic cultivation. Of course, he did it knowing that he could pick it up again, but still, Lan Wangji’s heart does funny little rabbit thumps every time he remembers how Wei Ying’s overwhelming gaze focused on him as he casually drew the resentful energy out of his body and chose Lan Wangji. 

It seems that all of Lan Wangji’s lectures and arguments about the danger of demonic cultivation had a much simpler solution. Wei Ying threw it all away because Lan Wangji needed help. Now Lan Wangji finds himself in a strange situation, in which the way to help Wei Ying involves something Lan Wangji has never done, not once in his life: asking for help.

-

Naturally, he turns to his brother for advice.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, his smile strained to the point of breaking. “No.”

Lan Wangji frowns. It sounds perfectly reasonable to him.

“You are not putting yourself in mortal peril on the off-chance that Young Master Wei will choose to abandon his method of cultivation,” Xichen says flatly.

“It is not an off-chance,” Lan Wangji argues. He’s almost never argued with his brother before, merely choosing to run away from conversations (such as “I see you’ve been staring at the Jiangs’ Head Disciple a lot, Wangji–Wangji, come back–”)

“Assume that he does, then,” Lan Xichen allows. “Did you not say he immediately picked it up again?”

“Giving up demonic cultivation caused him to collapse,” Lan Wangji says. “As I was injured at the time, I was not there to help him through its loss, and Jiang Wanyin–” He allows himself a small scowl, so furious is he at the carelessness of Wei Ying’s brother. “–did not say a word to stop him.”

To be fair, he doubts that Jiang Wanyin discouraging Wei Ying from using demonic cultivation would stop him. Lan Wangji must admit that he’s taken advantage of Wei Ying’s lack of respect for his new sect leader’s orders. Once he understood that Jiang Wanyin would make no move to prevent Wei Ying from using demonic cultivation, he turned his entreaties to Wei Ying instead, knowing that the only way to help Wei Ying would be getting through to Wei Ying himself. And because with the war keeping him exhausted and on the verge of losing his temper, he’s afraid that if he talks to Jiang Wanyin for too long, he’ll snap and beat him bloody, which is not the support that neither Lan Xichen nor Wei Ying need right now.

Lan Wangji eyes his brother expectantly, hoping that Lan Xichen will offer to guide and support Wei Ying on his behalf, after Wei Ying has narrowly recused Lan Wangji from mortal peril once more.

If he’s being completely honest with himself, it would be far easier to engineer a scenario in which Wei Ying must give up demonic cultivation for either of his siblings. But Lan Wangji’s morals won’t allow him to put others in danger in such an underhanded scheme, and Lan Wangji very much likes the thought of Wei Ying running to his rescue. The truth that Lan Wangji does not want to admit to himself is that the second reason is far more compelling to him than the first.

Lan Xichen’s face makes a strange motion that indicates that he would be sighing at Lan Wangji if he was just a slightest bit meaner. “Wangji,” he says patiently, “from what you have told me, Young Master Wei purged himself of resentful energy because you needed his help. Why do you not just ask for his help?”

That, Lan Wangji has to admit, sounds far simpler than orchestrating a scenario in which Wei Ying is the only one who can help him, specifically by setting aside demonic cultivation. 

It’s also far less compelling than Wei Ying dashing heroically to his rescue, but Lan Wangji was raised to be straightforward. 

He was not, however, raised to need help, so he frowns and asks; “How?”

Lan Xichen still refrains from sighing at him, because he knows why Lan Wangji finds the concept of asking for help so baffling. “Well,” he says, “here’s one thing you can do…”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 23 - Sci Fi

Here is the next part! There is at least one more part in this world. Getting really close to the end!

Masterpost Linked Here

Enjoy!

_______________________

Life moved on, and despite the growing anxiety I had after my encounter with Chris, things moved smoothly. Chris had disappeared after that night, leaving his resignation from the academy laying on his desk. Liam was busy with wedding plans, occasionally checking in to make sure I was happy with his choices.

He was honestly much more thoughtful about it than I would have been, and I was happy to have his help. My father arranged his leave and was on his way. We also heard from Liam’s parents that they were going to arrive soon as well.

When Liam received the news, he became perfectly still for a few moments. I watched him, concerned at the obvious change.

“Liam, are you okay?”

“I – I don’t know.” His eyes were unfocused, as if staring off into space. “Why… are they coming?”

“Because they’re your parents? I doubt they would miss the wedding of a royal family member, no matter how bad your relationship is.”

“Parents… it’s… all wrong.” Liam seemed to be struggling against some invisible bind. His dark blue eyes flickered, and seemed to almost glow in the shadow of the resting area we sat it.

WARNING. World destabilization detected. Attempting forced conformity… Failure… host and partner soul strength too high.

Unable to see the bright blue words hanging in the air, Liam continued speaking.

“This… isn’t right. I don’t have family." His face was becoming more certain. “It’s not my fate. All I have is…” He glanced at me, his eyes filled with pain. “Bel..?”

WARNING! Stabilize world story immediately or face destruction and mission failure.

I reached out quickly, holding Liam’s hands in my own. “Liam, take a deep breath. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.

“I know it seems wrong, but for now I need you to go with the idea of having parents and family.”

“But…?”

“Trust me. “

“Okay.” He leaned back, sighing. The glowing dark blue of his eyes faded, and he closed them for a brief moment, before seemingly returning back to normal. “I trust you.”

We don’t belong here.

The uncertainty in this world grew each day. Liam, whoever Chris had become… me… we weren’t from this world. But if we deviated to much, the world could destabilize, and I could fail the mission.

I just needed to keep my head down, blend in and complete the mission.

Try not to rebel too much against the role I’d been given in this world, except the ending.

Simple, right?

_______________________

…

“We’ve talked the last few hours about our lists, now it’s your turn! What do you miss most about Chris, Alaira?”

Maybe world destabilization, mission failure and soul destruction aren’t that bad after all.

I stared at the group of young women in front me, wondering for the hundredth time in the past hour how I had been roped into this... harem support group?

Allie, Ilene and Wen stared back at me, waiting for me to answer.

“I… miss kicking his butt in mock Mech battles?” I winced as I spoke, realizing they would probably take offense at that, but to my surprise they all smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, you were a very important rival to Chris.” Ilene patted me on the back.

Allie spoke up, “He was always talking about how he wanted to beat you and have you accept him as a fellow Guardian. “

“Yeah… he… I…” Wen started to chime in, but then her face crumpled as she sobbed into her hands. “What are we supposed to do now that he’s gone?! What am I supposed to do without him?! What if he never comes back?!”

“I miss him!”

“Me too!”

Soon all three girls were crying, leaving me in uncomfortable silence in the corner.

Blend in, don’t make waves, don’t try to change things….

“I can’t live without him!” Ilene’s dramatic cry broke something within me.

SCREW THIS!

“OKAY GUYS, SHUT UP!” I stood up, placing my hands on my hips as I stared at them. “You are a group of highly intelligent, talented women in the most competitive military academy in the known universe! And you’re nothing without some guy?”

“He’s not just some….” Wen started to interrupt, but was shushed by me.

“No. No matter how much you care for him. He is a guy, and you are all your own person. You have talents, dreams and stories beyond his existence.” I turned to petite girl beside me first. “You! Wen, you’re one of the top engineering students in the program! With your skills, it would be a cinch to improve upon the current Mech design!” After all, she had ramped up Chris’s Mech in the story, surely she could do the same without him!

“And you!” I pointed at Allie. “You’re a Guardian! You're a level B one at that! That's an even higher level than Chris!”

“But I don’t have his drive…”

“You can have his drive! You can have more than his drive! He spent half his time complaining about how people didn’t take him seriously or how people were trying to force him to be a Connector. You can be TEN TIMES the Guardian Chris was!”

I ignored her startled sputterings and turned towards the dark haired girl on the other side. “And you… Ilene.”

She stared at me warily. “What about me?”

“You’re a freaking Princess! And a super talented Connector! How can that become nothing if Chris isn’t around?”

“…I thought you didn’t like me?”

“I don’t.” I answered bluntly. “You treat your brother like trash, and that’s enough for me to want to kick your teeth in.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “That being said, just because I hate you doesn’t mean I don’t respect you as a talented Connector. You just have a crappy personality.”

“Um… Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” I opened my arms. “You three have top-notch talent all gathered here in one room. What do you need Chris for?! You could be a force to be reckoned with!”

Wen jumped to her feet. “You’re right! I should design a Mech, one stronger than anyone’s ever seen.!”

“Yes!” I pumped a hand in the air.

“And I’ll fly it! I’ll terrorize the Hive until they go running back to their home planet!” Allie stood up as well.

“You’ve got it!”

Ilene joined in. “If I remember, Allie, you and I have a decent resonance match. How about we partner up?”

“Let’s do it!”

The girls high-fived each other while I watched approvingly.

“Let’s destroy the hIve!

“We’ll save humanity!”

‘...And then we’ll find Chris!”

I groaned.

They were so close… but I guess this is better than nothing.

The girls plotted the formation of a new team, surprisingly accepting the team name “Harem” (my suggestion). As they filed out, chattering excitedly, I prepared to escape this mentally exhausting group.

“Alaira, wait.” Princess Ilene stopped me before I could walk out the door.

“What is it?” I kept a neutral expression. I hadn’t been joking when I said I didn’t like her.

She hesitated. “Are you really marrying my brother?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“…No… it’s just…” She rubbed her face. “He’s… different. And I feel like you should know. “

Sitting back down, I crossed my legs and prepared to listen.

“Since he met you… William is a different person. He’s kinder… gentler… even goes by a different name. He’s never gone by Liam.”

That caught my attention “What was he like before?”

“Angry. Vicious. Hurt people just to watch them suffer.” Her face was blank, as if remembering things she didn’t want to. “He was so mad at the world for not allowing him to match, he spent all his time plotting to take down talented people who could.”

A villain. Was that who he was before Liam stepped in? Like how Alaira was before I took over? Or Chris before… whoever it was… took his body?

“I’m not pretending that I’m perfect, either. You’re right, I treated my brother like garbage, instead of trying to help him. I thought he was a monster. Honestly, I thought his hanging around you was some new scheme…. I was kind of hoping he would take you out so your couldn’t bother Chris…”

“So nice of you.” My tone was sarcastic

“At least I’m honest. Anyways, this doesn’t appear to be some trick… I think he’s changed… he actually seems to care about you. But I thought you should know who he was before he met you.”

“Thanks.” My tone was slightly better than before. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who I’m marrying.”

Liam. Not your villain brother.

“Good Luck.” Ilene seemed relieved, as if a burden was off of her shoulders with the confession, and hurried out.

I stood in the room alone silently for a few moments, processing.

There’s too many questions, and no answers in sight.

I left to find Liam. I missed him.

_______________________

I arrived just in time to see Liam and Alaira’s father facing off.

“She is my precious daughter.” The tall middle aged man with close cropped hair and a scowl made scarier by the scar running from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, towered over Liam. His disapproving air was evident.

“Yes.” Liam smiled and nodded, seemingly fearless.

“No man deserves to marry her.”

“Agreed.”

“So who do you think you are?” General Gladus poked Liam’s chest with a finger.

“The luckiest man alive to be able to stand in the same room as Alaira, much less stay by her side all my life.” He held out a plate in front of the angry man. “Cookies?”

“Well, you should know I don’t approve of this fast courtship…” He picked up one of the cookies and bit into it angrily. “You both are so young…” He took another bite. “And I don’t want you to hold her back…”

“I completely agree. I will do my best to support all her goals in life.” Liam handed the general another cookie as he finished the first.

“Good…” He chewed slower. “Is this chocolate? How did you get it so soft but chewy at the same time?”

“I developed the recipe. Would you like more?”

He picked up another one. “Just know this doesn’t mean I fully approve of you.”

“Of course not… Would you like some cake…”

“….”

“I also have homemade hot chocolate.”

“… As long as she likes you, I guess.” He finally muttered, his hands full of baked treats and dessert drinks.

Liam overwhelmed him with support spouse abilities. I laughed in the doorway, attracting the attention of both men.

“Anything for me?”

Liam nodded with a bright smile. “I saved you a plate.”

General Gladus cleared his throat as he saw the large platter filled with cookies.

“Don’t worry, Sir, I saved an extra plate for you.”

“… Don’t think you can bribe me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So I can have your plate, then?”

“The hardened general clutched the plate of cookies to his chest. “Don’t you dare! The boy made them for me out of respect for his future father-in-law!”

“…” Liam and I smiled at each other.

“How is the front line… Dad?” The title felt a little rough as I spoke it. I was still acutely aware that he was Alaira’s father, not mine.

“Stable, for now.” He frowned. “Fortunately we have an elaborate defense system, to give plenty of warning. But they’ve been retreating more and more lately. The higher ups seem to think that they might be admitting defeat, but I just don’t think so. I think they’re preparing for something… big.”

He’s right.

I knew the ending of the original story. Around the time Alaira was supposed to graduate, they had attacked in the largest numbers ever seen, necessitating all senior students being recruited to help fight. Even Alaira, who was without a Connector and would have normally been left behind was brought in. They couldn’t afford to leave any powerful guardian out.

I still have a little more time, though. I can train with Liam, maybe get Wen to help upgrade our Mechs, train up some of the students… We can have a chance to really face off against the attack.

There’s still time…

“Don’t let down your guard. You’re the best general we’ve got.” I patted Alaira’s father on the shoulder.

He crushed me in a big hug. “Don’t worry, your dad will protect the galaxy! You just get married in peace.” He leaned in and whispered. “See if he can make a few more of those chocolate cookies, okay?”

“I will, Dad.” It came much more naturally this time.

I’ll protect you too. I added silently.

_______________________

As the wedding drew closer, we were notified that the king and queen were on their way. Liam ignored the news, continuing to work on seating charts and music for the ceremony.

“We have to welcome them when they arrive. They are due any minute.” I finally spoke up, slightly exasperated with his head-in-the-sand act.

“…If we have to.” His voice was cold, his dark blue eyes flickering between fear and annoyance.

I held his hand. “Don’t worry. No matter who they think you are, or what they say about you, just know that you’re my future husband. Don’t worry about anything else.”

He reached out, pulling me tightly against him. “ Thank you.”

“Just play along with them. I held his face between my hands. “You’re Liam. Not Prince William. Not their son. Not Ilene’s brother. Liam.”

WARNING. DIRECTLY CONTRADICTING STORYLINES IS FORBIDDEN.

Liam tilted his head and studied me with a worried expression. “… Are you okay?”

“Just follow my lead. Please.” I looked away from the bright blue words in annoyance and moved.

We went to meet the Royal Family, each of us nervous for different reasons.

The King and Queen looked slightly like Liam and Ilene. The king had curly dark hair, severe features, made worse by the frown as he studied Liam. The Queen had the dark blue eyes that both siblings had, and a beautiful, delicate face… but the overall sense was ruined by the terrified light in her eyes as she almost hid behind her husband.

“So this is the girl you tricked into marrying you?” The king looked at me with morbid curiosity.

Liam took a deep breath. “This is Alaira, Grade S Guardian, my resonance partner and my future wife…”

“What game are you playing, William?” His father snapped, interrupting him. “If this is some ploy to ruin General Gladus, you should stop now.”

“This isn’t…”

“You should stop this now.” The Queen squeaked out nervously at me from behind the King. “He might be my son, but you can’t trust him…”

“…”

“This wedding is a farce.” The king snapped finally. “He’s a monster.”

_______________________

“Why did you follow me?” the mournful voice called out as I entered the dark room.

“Do you want me to leave?” I looked up at the large dark blue eyes curiously, barely able to make out the large form in the darkness.

“I didn’t want you to see… didn’t want you to know…”

“Know what?”

“That I’m a monster.” The whisper was filled with so much pain it made me cry.

_______________________

BAM!

Before I fully came out of the memory, I had punched the King.

“…”

There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone present.

“You dare…!” The King finally spoke up, rubbing his red cheek with a furious expression. “I can have you executed!”

“Just try, Barry.” General Gladus walked in, his hand holding a drawn weapon. “I’ll shoot you in your precious Royal Ass, and then what are you going to lounge on while I fight your wars for you?”

"..."

"..."

"..."

The room processed his words in silence for a moment, before the king burst out angrily.

“Gladus, are you threatening me?!!”

“Oh shut up Barry. " He waved dismissively with his gun. "It wouldn’t even be the first time I’ve shot you. Probably won't be the last." You won’t arrest me, you need me to protect your country.”

“You are willing to let your precious daughter marry this… this… “ The king trailed off, glaring at Liam, who stared calmly back.

“Yes.” General Gladus shrugged “I heard the rumors. Even with the 100% match I wasn’t about to let him hurt my daughter.”

“Then why…?”

“I’ve sat down with your son, Barry. I shook his hand, looked him in the eye. I asked him the hard questions. I’ve observed him around Alaira.” The General stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know a good man when I see one. And I see one. One who loves my daughter. Maybe you should try looking closer.”

“But he…”

“Plus he makes delicious cookies.” He muttered.

“…He what?”

I stepped forward, blocking Liam behind me. “He’s not a monster. He’s my future husband. I honestly do not care about your opinion. But if you want to try to hurt him, just know… you won’t have to wait for my father to shoot you. I’ll do it first.”

“… Control your child, Gladus.”

“She even threatens you just like me!” He reached out and placed an arm around my shoulders. “So proud.”

“…Fine. “ The King frowned “I won’t try to save you from yourself. Marry him, if you want.”

“I plan to.”

“Whatever you’re plotting, William, you better stop now.” He glared. “You might have fooled them, but you won’t fool me.”

“I don’t have to fool you.” Liam’s eyes were dark. “You mean nothing to me.”

“I’m your father.”

“I have no family. I… I can never have family.” Liam turned away.

“William…” The Queen called out softly.

“I AM NOT William.”

WARNING. World Destabilization detected!

“Come on, Liam. Let’s go.” I grabbed his hand and walked away, calling over my shoulder as we left. “You’re free to attend the wedding, but stay away from us otherwise.”

“You’ll regret this!”

I laughed at his bitter words. “Enjoy the disappointment.”

Liam and I left.

_______________________

We sat in my room, and as soon as my hand left his, he curled up, holding his arms over his head.

“I don’t feel right.”

“Liam.” I reached out and touched his back, feeling him trembling beneath me.

“Who am I? I don’t think I’m William. The things they said… the things William has done… He’s not me.”

Warning!

"He's not me... he can't be... He's not..."

WARNING! World destabilization... Bright blue words and a mechanical voice appeared again.

“SHUT UP!” I yelled, drowning out the voice. I pulled his arms down, looking straight into his dark blue eyes. “You are Liam. And you’re my partner. And tomorrow you’ll be my husband. Nothing else matters..”

“But…”

“I can’t explain things right now. I don’t even know everything right now. But I know there’s a reason we’re here together. I’ve found you, and I won’t leave you.”

He held me close, both of us kneeling on the floor. He was clutching me as if I was the only thing anchoring him. I felt lost myself. I was frustrated at my lack of answers, angry at the pain Liam was experiencing, afraid for the future ahead of us.

“Alaira… no… Bel?” He whispered. “... I love you.”

I smiled at the unfamiliar but familiar name, pressing my face against his shoulder. “I love you too, Liam.”

“Marry me tomorrow.”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t leave me behind… please.”

“I won't... No matter what.”

A long silence fell between us. Finally Liam sat back, his face slightly red. “I wish we were getting married tonight. I can’t help but feel something terrible is going to happen to prevent our wedding.”

Foreshadowing.

Ignoring the ominous word that appeared in my subconscious, I smiled reassuringly. “Nothing is going to happen…”

“ALERT! CODE LEVEL RED. PLEASE REPORT TO EMERGENCY STATIONS. ALERT!”

I sighed. “I take that back.”

We headed to the Command Level in the main Academy.

_______________________

“Dad, what’s going on?” I called out as we passed the main doors.

“Alaira…” General Gladus’ face was uncharacteristically serious. “It’s not good.”

I stood beside him, looking up at the large holographic display at the center of the command room, feeling the blood drain from my face. “The Hive.”

“They’re past our defense systems.” He slammed his fist against the table. “This doesn’t make any sense! How did an army this huge get past us without starting any alarms!”

I stared at the countless red dots on the screen, feeling lost.

This isn’t right. In the story I should have had YEARS before the Hive attacked in such large numbers. Even then they were caught immediately in the defense systems and gave the military time to prepare. How could they get past us… unless…

“Chris.”

He said he was going to end everything. Is this what he meant?

Alaira’s father was confused. “That male student who disappeared? How would he have access to defense system information?”

Chris wouldn’t… but whoever was controlling Chris might have more information.

I let it go for now. “What do we do?”

“There’s too many… and they’re headed for a defenseless planet in this system.” He hung his head. “I don’t have the manpower to defend it.”

I stepped forward, giving him a grim smile. “You’re not alone, Dad. I’ll help.”

“We! We’ll help.” Liam stood beside me. “We’re a powerful combo. You can’t afford to turn us down.”

General Gladus sighed. “Even if I recruit top senior students from the academy… the numbers we have… it’s a suicide mission.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

Your mission: Prevent destruction of the human race by the alien monster race known as The Hive.

The Hive are now attacking in large numbers. Your estimated chance of success against them in battle is 0%.

“If you’re not gonna say anything helpful, then shut up.” I growled quietly.

Liam turned towards me. “Are you okay?”

If you fail your mission, you will face soul destruction.

“It’s not like I’m swimming in options.”

You have one option.

“Who are you talking to?”

“What is it?” I whispered, holding Liam’s hand and squeezing it. I have to save him.

...

ACCEPT YOUR FATE.

...

I stared at the blue words silently for a few minutes. “Liam, what if I said we have an 100% chance of dying if we went on this mission…”

“You don’t know that…”

“...and I had a fool proof way to protect you… But we would be separated forever?”

I didn’t know what my fate was. But I did know in the deepest part of my soul one thing:

Liam was not my fate.

“I don’t plan to survive this, Liam… but if I could save you…”

“I would rather die by your side.” He didn’t hesitate.

“But…”

He grabbed my other hand, holding them both tightly. “We’ll face this together.”

_______________________

“It’s hopeless.” I whispered, holding him tightly. “What if fate is stronger than us?”

“I don’t need hope, Bel.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “If fate is going to separate us, then we’ll destroy it.”

“Together.”

“Always.”

_______________________

I looked at the hologram, at the countless numbers of enemies that awaited us, and leaned against him with a sigh.

“Together.”

He smiled in return.

“Always.”

[gusu-emilu]

Ship: Wei Wuxian / Wen Ning

Summary: Wei Wuxian gives Wen Ning a heartbeat, but not in the way either of them expected.

Rated T, No Warnings Apply

POV Wen Ning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, references to WWX's poor health, First Kiss, Pining, Cuddling, Presumably Unrequited Love, or more accurately: whatever these two have going on, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, and the inherent homoeroticism of necromancy

Ch. 1/2, 6k, read on AO3 above or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning has always known that Wei Wuxian is not someone to hesitate.

The moment Wen Ning enters the Demon Subdue Palace after packing up the last sack of turnips, Wei Wuxian grabs his wrist.

“Come look!” He tugs Wen Ning deeper into the cave, slender fingers wrapped around Wen Ning’s wrist. He grins at Wen Ning over his shoulder. “I’ve made some more demonic devices, probably my best batch yet. I’d like to see the impersonators down in the town copy these!”

Wen Ning steadies his balance, not fully recovered from Wei Wuxian suddenly whisking him away.

Wei Wuxian has never hesitated to touch him. Wen Ning still isn’t quite used to it, having grown up in a family of doctors whose every touch felt calculated, and among clansmen more focused on war and strength than friendship. Clansmen who rarely respected him, never mind showed him affection.

Even now, he exists in a constant state of volatility due to his outbursts of resentful energy. Every family member in the Burial Mounds is careful around him, even A-Yuan at times.

But not Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is entirely different. Has always been different.

The first time they spoke, Wei Wuxian had already been comfortable with casual touch. Wei Wuxian hadn’t hesitated to lay hands on him to adjust his archery posture—steady hands he can still imagine on his upper arm and around the side of his ribs, friendly pressure like a heavy quilt, as Wei Wuxian comforted and praised him.

Then the war began, and Wei Wuxian choked him in Lotus Pier—furious, merciless hands like paws of a frightened animal. Wei Wuxian hadn’t hesitated then, either. He would’ve fully choked Wen Ning had he not held back enough to let him speak.

Then the war ended. Now Wei Wuxian uses him as an armrest, fixes his hair, arranges talismans on him, even once tried to pick him up and carry him as a joke. (He'd been a bit too weak to manage it for long. Wen Ning hadn’t thought that part was funny.) Now he drags Wen Ning around by the hand, all without hesitation.

Had Wei Wuxian hesitated before raising him from the dead?

Wen Ning isn’t sure which answer would comfort him.

“Take a look at this one,” Wei Wuxian says as he places a stone tablet in Wen Ning’s hand. A faint black cloud winds around the tablet, the smoke’s path tracing the red fulu writings carved into its surface. “Still pretty weak, but I’m getting closer to replicating yin iron with just regular stone.”

Wen Ning glances back and forth between the tablet and Wei Wuxian’s tired but enthusiastic smile. His eyes are bright with joy, but dark circles frame them. He hasn’t eaten much in the past few days, instead focusing relentlessly on his experiments, despite needing to save energy to heal the stab wound from Jiang Wanyin.

But Wen Ning still hasn’t figured out how to make him rest. Maybe admiring the new batch of demonic devices will help calm his inventive frenzy.

He nods, giving a small smile at Wei Wuxian. “That’s good.”

“Weak yin iron will be much easier to use. Better for small applications here and there, less dangerous…” Wei Wuxian squats by the scattered piles of demonic cultivation tools and notes, rummaging through to find another invention, the tablet already forgotten.

The black cloud around the tablet continues to swirl, small wisps seeping into Wen Ning’s skin. The tablet feels more like a block of dust than like stone, but despite his dulled senses, he notices…something else. A second sensation.

A throb.

“Wei-gongzi?”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian says, squinting at a page of especially messy notes.

“Does…does this have a pulse?” The stone continues to throb weakly, more of a resonance than a physical sensation, its aura cold like resentful energy.

Wei Wuxian looks up from the papers, one eyebrow raised. “It’s still doing that?” He stands and takes the tablet, examines it. “Hm. This might be good! I’ll have to find out what flow pattern of resentful energy caused this.”

Wen Ning closes his hand. Strangely, he wishes for the tablet to still be pulsing against his palm. It had felt kind of pleasant, if disturbing. “Resentful energy can create a heartbeat?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a heartbeat. But yes, if channeled the right way.”

“…Does that mean I have one?” Behind his back to prevent Wei Wuxian from noticing, he presses three fingers to the inside of his wrist, where years ago Jiejie had taught him how to read the flow of his blood. A black vein of resentful energy now covers those lifeless pulse points. “I’ve never felt it.”

Wei Wuxian turns the tablet between his hands thoughtfully. “No…you don’t have a heartbeat.” Then he grins, one of those sly grins that crosses his handsome face slowly, as if an idea has rushed into him so quickly that he needs to pace his smile just to contain it. Wen Ning doesn’t like those grins, because they make something flutter inside him.

“At least, not yet!” Wei Wuxian adds. “Do you want one? I could figure something out—”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine without one.” The last thing Wei Wuxian needs is another project to stay up all night for—least of all an unnecessary project that Wen Ning requested by accident. Wei Wuxian has done enough for him already.

“I’m serious!” Wei Wuxian says. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I can test it right now.” He trails a finger over the blood-red writing on the tablet and mutters a few words under his breath. The black smoke around it thickens. “Just something temporary, to see if the idea works.” He steps closer.

Nervousness immediately jolts through Wen Ning. It’s unfortunate that death has muted the nerve endings in Wen Ning’s skin but has done nothing to quiet his anxious mind, which is always at both its most overactive and sluggish around Wei Wuxian.

Wen Ning watches the tablet’s red markings begin to glow, watches Wei Wuxian’s expression harden to a chiseled concentration.

“Come here,” Wei Wuxian says.

If Wei Wuxian’s hunch works, Wei Wuxian will ignore his health until he finishes developing the method to give Wen Ning a permanent heartbeat. If it fails, Wei Wuxian will still ignore his health, this time trying until he finds a different method.

It’s best to not let him try. To give him a firm “no.”

But Wen Ning has never been good at those. Especially when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

He has also never been good at lying to Wei Wuxian. Although he must do so for the sake of Wei Wuxian’s health, it’s hard to admit that he doesn’t miss his heartbeat.

He misses many small details of his body. Jiejie had taught him the ways of Dafan Wen medicine, made him attuned to the evidence of life in himself. He knows how fast his heart rate is supposed to be while lying in bed, knows which pressure points she once worked at to calm his anxiety, knows the irregularities of the breaths he no longer takes.

He used to like his heartbeat, his breath, their soothing rhythm as he fell asleep. It was comforting to understand that much about himself, to follow this evidence of life, when in childhood a piece of his soul had been snatched and left the rest of him a puzzle.

Now the lack of this evidence of life feels like a testimony against him.

Wei Wuxian could return some illusion of life to him. Would be happy to do so.

Selfishly, Wen Ning wants him to try. Being a walking experiment has its unsettling moments—more accurately, a constant hum of discomfort—but there is something morbidly enchanting about letting Wei Wuxian mold him into whatever he envisions. Into the magnum opus of a genius.

An even more selfish part of him wants to beg Wei Wuxian to try, because how symbolic would it be for Wei Wuxian to restore his heart, of all things…

“Wen Ning?” Wei Wuxian asks softly.

“Okay,” he answers, and instantly regrets it.

Wei Wuxian smiles again, this time the smile he saves for when he is about to tinker with the Ghost General. Wen Ning has learned all of his smiles by now, and he still doesn’t believe that there is one specially for him. But Wei Wuxian gives him that reassuring nod, the warm curve of his lips, the eager yet slightly rueful glint in his eyes, and Wen Ning can only recall seeing that expression the previous times Wei Wuxian rewrote pieces of him.

Wei Wuxian explains exactly what he’s going to do and how the resentful energy will flow. Wen Ning nods, and Wei Wuxian rests a hand on Wen Ning’s chest—casually, moving without hesitation, like always. “It won’t actually restart your heart. Just give the illusion of a pulse for a few minutes.” He furrows his brow as his focus intensifies. “That is, if it works.”

The feeling of Wei Wuxian’s hand on the center of his chest is stabilizing, yet it sets Wen Ning’s mind into disarray, despite how many times he has felt this before.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, preparing to reroute the resentful energy inside Wen Ning.

A cool stream of energy enters Wen Ning. Growing colder, gushing rapidly—

Freezing—

Then over almost instantly.

Wei Wuxian opens his eyes. “Feel any different?”

Wen Ning feels a bit dizzy, which is new. He hasn’t experienced vertigo since becoming a fierce corpse. But that fades quickly, and soon he is left with only the feeling of thick fabric pressing against his chest where Wei Wuxian’s hand rests.

He shakes his head. “Do…do you feel anything?”

Wei Wuxian shifts his hand, presses harder against Wen Ning’s chest. Waits, then sticks three fingers in the groove of Wen Ning’s neck, and that feels nice. Wen Ning almost wants to hold his hand there—

“No. I guess it didn’t work.” Wei Wuxian sounds much more tired than before. He removes his hand.

“That’s okay. I don’t need a heartbeat.”

“You want one though, yeah?” Wei Wuxian begins sifting through the inventions scattered across the cave, perhaps looking for another device, perhaps just hunting for kindling to spark an idea.

Wen Ning had been too selfish by agreeing to this. Who knows how long Wei Wuxian will research this now?

“I don’t want you to start another project,” Wen Ning says, and the faint thread of anger in his voice is stronger than he intended, even though that anger is mostly directed at himself. It's been harder to control his emotions since resentful energy began feeding them.

Wei Wuxian looks up, startled. Then he grins and gives a small laugh. “Are you turning into your jiejie now? Bossing me around…”

The joke only strengthens Wen Ning’s resolve. It reminds him that he can invoke Jiejie’s authoritativeness. He has never been good at following in his sister’s footsteps, but calling upon her immovability is almost as effective at steeling him as resentful energy. “You should sleep or come help us outside instead of always working in here.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his eyes. “I know, I know. You’ve all told me many times.” He seems to regret the slight bite in his tone. He tends to snap once in a while, the effect of stress lashing out from behind his mask, but it always dissolves as quickly as it appears.

“I’ll listen to you,” Wei Wuxian says, gently this time. Wen Ning feels a wave of relief. But then Wei Wuxian smirks and adds, “For now. I really do have some theories I want to test.”

“But—Wei-gongzi—”

Wei Wuxian rises to his feet and walks over to him. Stands and looks at him for a while, then says, almost murmurs, “I have enough projects for myself.” He tucks a strand of hair behind Wen Ning’s ear, and Wen Ning nearly melts. “Let me do something that’ll make you happy.”

This is bad. Very bad.

Wei Wuxian isn’t even telling the truth. His projects are all for the protection of Wen Ning’s family, not for himself. But the fond touch, combined with the sweetness in Wei Wuxian’s voice, is already enough to make Wen Ning bend.

He would much rather take care of Wei Wuxian than be taken care of. But if he weren’t worried about being a bother, he would tangle his hair just for Wei Wuxian to run his fingers through it, to twirl and comb and braid it the way he unravels and reorders the resentful energy inside Wen Ning.

“You really don’t need to. Getting a heartbeat was just an idea,” Wen Ning mumbles.

“And a good idea! We all need more comforts around here, don’t we?” Wei Wuxian nestles three fingers in the groove of Wen Ning’s neck to search for a pulse again, his brow knit in thought. Despite himself, Wen Ning can’t help but be glad that he can feel that touch a second time.

When Wei Wuxian experiments on him, the tugs and surges of resentful energy don’t exactly feel good. It’s like ice cracking under his skin, leaving shards that poke out of him. Or like the bony hand of a skeleton yanking at his insides, ripping him apart and rattling the pieces around.

The pain and discomfort frighten him. Remind him of what Wei Wuxian is capable of. What Wen Ning is capable of.

Yet he finds enjoyment in the fear, in the icy fingers of resentful energy, because those are the shadows of Wei Wuxian’s hands on him, reshaping him.

And before Wei Wuxian experiments on him…that feels too good. The doting—almost loving—attention, the careful examination, mumbled words, soft touches…

Wei Wuxian pulls his hand away and brings it to his own throat. His glance darts around the cave as he seems to calculate something in his mind.

Then he grabs Wen Ning’s hand and presses Wen Ning’s fingers into his neck. The sensation comes delayed, but Wen Ning feels it.

A pulse. Wei Wuxian’s pulse.

Wei Wuxian continues looking around the cave and thinking, as if this is just another ordinary step in a routine. But to Wen Ning, this is—this is—have they ever done something this intimate? How can Wei Wuxian let him feel the rhythm of his pulse, of his life force, and act like it’s nothing?

Somehow that makes it even more intimate, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to mind…

Wen Ning counts the beats to himself.

Too slow. Not by much, but Wei Wuxian’s heart rate is too slow for his age, his size.

Wen Ning would make a mental note to tell Jiejie, but he knows she’s already aware. Wei Wuxian’s health has been deteriorating since he stepped back into the Burial Mounds.

“Wei-gongzi?”

“Mn?”

“I…I have a different idea.”

Wei Wuxian lifts Wen Ning’s hand from his neck, but doesn’t let go. He smiles. “What’s that?”

“You can just give me the tablet.” Wen Ning looks down at the slab of stone, thin black wisps of smoke swirling around it. “I can feel its heartbeat.”

“You don’t want your own?”

He shakes his head.

Wei Wuxian playfully taps the back of Wen Ning’s hand a few times. Four times, to be exact. Wen Ning can’t help counting. “That heartbeat isn’t very human, though.”

Neither am I, Wen Ning wants to say, but he knows Wei Wuxian will scold him if he does. “It would be more than enough,” he says instead.

“You’re going to make the Yiling Laozu feel like a fraud if you let him give you scraps and call it ‘more than enough.’” He sighs and glances down at the tablet. “But you can take it until I come up with something better.”

“Then…is there something that you don’t think is a scrap?”

Wei Wuxian brings Wen Ning’s fingers to his neck again, and the warm pulse hums through his fingertips. “Well, there’s my heartbeat.” He winks. “I’d still call that a scrap, though.”

“No it isn’t,” Wen Ning blurts.

Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows. Then his expression turns thoughtful. “Would you rather keep feeling mine?”

Wen Ning doesn’t reply, but he knows his face says everything. Not even rigor mortis can hide the answer.

“Forget about that useless rock, then.” Wei Wuxian pats his chest. “I’ll be your heartbeat for now.”

Wen Ning is sure that if he still had blood flow, he would be flushed. Panicked energy begins to twitch inside him. “N-No, it’s okay—”

“You don’t want my finest craftsmanship, and you don’t want my scraps! What am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing,” Wen Ning answers quietly.

“Yes, something.” He takes Wen Ning’s hand and tugs him toward the slab of stone he uses as a bed. “Hm. How should we do this? Maybe—”

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says, exasperated. He likes that Wei Wuxian never hesitates, never slows down—it’s attractive, in a frustrating kind of way—but it often leaves Wen Ning in the dust with his mind still sputtering and struggling to function.

“Alright, sit here.” Wei Wuxian gestures toward the bed. “If you want to,” he adds.

It’s pointless to ask if Wen Ning wants to. He wonders if Wei Wuxian knows that he doesn’t need Chenqing or yin iron to make him do just about anything.

Suddenly filled with dread, a dread that he is going to like this too much, he steps forward and awkwardly sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Perfect,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. He taps Wen Ning’s knee twice. “Spread your legs.”

Now Wen Ning is certain that he would be flushed if he were alive. “S-S-Spr—what?”

“Hey.” He smirks and points a finger at Wen Ning. “Who taught you to have thoughts like that? Don’t worry. I just need you to make room for me.”

Wen Ning gets out some garbled form of “okay” and spreads his legs, creating enough space for Wei Wuxian to sit on one of his knees.

Which Wei Wuxian does.

Sit on his knee.

He also wraps his arms around Wen Ning’s neck and pulls him closer until his cheek touches Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“I can’t do all the work myself.” He cups Wen Ning’s chin. “You have to move too.”

Wen Ning swallows—by habit, since he doesn’t really need to do that anymore—and positions himself so his ear rests over Wei Wuxian’s heart. He can’t feel Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat through the robes, but the gentle sound of thum, thum seeps into him right away.

Warmth, too. A lot of warmth.

“Good?” Wei Wuxian hums.

Wen Ning makes a small noise of contentment in the back of his throat. He fiddles with his hands in his lap, trying and failing to find a good place for them that isn’t Wei Wuxian’s legs. “I hear it.”

“Only hear it?”

He opens his mouth to object, but he knows that Wei Wuxian will spot the lie before it leaves his lips.

Wei Wuxian opens the collar of his dark outer robes and lets Wen Ning rest his head on the thin red inner garment.

Even warmer. Softer.

He can feel Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat.

He hasn’t felt something like this since he was a child. It’s…not what he expects.

Jiejie had taught him how to take a person’s pulse. How to place three fingers on each wrist and find the six pulse positions corresponding to the meridians of the body, to identify the different types of pulses—their depth, width, length, strength. How sometimes the pulse feels like beads rolling along a table, while other times it feels like the crisp pluck of a guqin string, and so on, each revealing secrets of the body, guiding how to best heal the patient.

All that knowledge had once been exciting. It seems mundane, now.

The medical analogies for a pulse at the wrist, Wen Ning realizes, don’t work to describe what a heartbeat from the chest feels like when it’s pressed against his cheek.

It’s like wading in a warm stream, sunshine beating on him. The gentle lap of current, its smooth rhythm—thum, thum—like the most natural and simple form of expression.

Wen Ning wishes Jiejie had instead taught him how to decipher a person’s soul by listening to their heartbeat, because with this strange, steady language reverberating in his ear, it almost seems possible.

“Now?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Wen Ning doesn’t make a sound this time.

He counts Wei Wuxian’s heartbeats and tries to guess how many fit into a minute. They remain like that, long after Wen Ning loses count, with Wei Wuxian’s warm body in his lap. They both relax, and Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat eventually fades into Wen Ning, like it’s his own.

His awareness returns when he notices Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat slowing even more. He pulls away, immediately missing the comforting solidness of Wei Wuxian’s chest, and looks up to see a calm, drowsy expression on Wei Wuxian’s face. His eyes are heavy-lidded and almost fully closed.

“We’ve been telling you,” Wen Ning says softly. “You don’t sleep enough.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his eyes. “You really are becoming bossy.”

“I just want you to take care of yourself.”

“You and your jiejie are like a pair of vultures. Circling me when I’m weak and picking at me!” He gives a wan smile and reaches around Wen Ning’s back to rub his shoulder. “But I appreciate that you care about me.”

Wen Ning absorbs the feeling of Wei Wuxian stroking his shoulder, the thrum of Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat still lingering in his ear. “I appreciate that you care about me, too,” he mumbles.

He’s not sure if Wei Wuxian hears, but figures he knows anyway.

* * *

The next day, Wei Wuxian lets Wen Ning listen again.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

It becomes a pattern, as reliable as the beat of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Wei Wuxian is more likely to skip a meal or lose a night of sleep than he is to shirk his self-proclaimed “heartbeat duty,” and Wen Ning begins to wonder if Wei Wuxian likes it as much as he does.

Then Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli show up in Yiling.

That night, Wei Wuxian drinks like he wants to waterboard himself.

He forgets about heartbeat duty after that. Wen Ning lets him.

* * *

Two weeks later, Wen Ning brings a medicinal draught Jiejie prepared to the Demon Subdue Palace. The sun outside sank long ago, leaving behind deep blues and browns that bleed into the entrance of the cave. A single candle flickers on a rock shelf in the cave wall, illuminating the craggy wall and the floor strewn with bits of metal and wood and crumpled talismans.

Astoundingly, Wei Wuxian is not hunched in the corner scribbling away. He’s in bed scribbling away, his sleeves rolled up and his tied-back hair slightly disheveled the way they are when he digs in the mud pond for the lotus pods that won’t grow.

He hadn’t come out to farm since the day before. Wen Ning wonders if he’s fixed his sleeves or his hair since then.

Wen Ning steps over as quietly as he can manage with his clumsy feet and waits beside the bed, holding the draught with both hands and feeling a faint sensation of its warmth. “Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian presses the wooden end of his brush into the corner of his mouth. “Do you know how to make a Spirit-Attraction Flag attract only ghosts of a certain age?”

“…No.”

“Mn. I—wait—” He cuts off and draws what looks like disjointed pieces of an array scribbled in the margins around rejected brushstrokes.

Wen Ning lets him write for a while, then says, “My jiejie made this for you to drink.”

“And why,” Wei Wuxian asks without a pause in his writing, “is she spending resources on me instead of saving them for A-Yuan and the others?”

“You need medicine, too. Because your stab wound still hasn't healed, and—and Jiejie says your body still isn’t used to not having a gold—”

Wei Wuxian abruptly stops writing. Wen Ning clamps his mouth shut, and wishes he hadn’t said anything.

With a lack of pleasure that he fails to hide, Wei Wuxian scribbles a few more things, then stands up, slices a cut in his finger, and begins trailing red lines on a Spirit-Attraction Flag. “I’m going down the mountain to test this.” He looks over at Wen Ning with a softened expression and walks out of the cave.

Wen Ning doesn’t need him to say that it’s an invitation to follow. He always accompanies Wei Wuxian down the mountain. He’d rather Wei Wuxian sleep, but at least leaving the Burial Mounds always puts him in a better mood.

After they pass through the final protective array and the forest around the path begins to change from grim black leafless trees to green trees shaded blue by moonlight, Wei Wuxian seems to relax. But instead of testing the flag in the clearing where he usually does, he continues walking.

They reach the edge of the forest. A few clouds in the sky hide some of the stars, but the moon is out, a bright half of a silver coin. They pass the town from a distance, still close enough to see amber dots of light from the few lanterns lit at this time of night, but far enough that even Wen Ning’s sharp vision can’t discern clear shapes of the buildings. Wei Wuxian stares at the town once in a while, as if he can see something in the muddied blocks of light.

They enter a different patch of forest and stray just far enough inside for tree branches to reach across the sky again.

Wei Wuxian holds up the flag and examines it.

He lowers the flag to his side.

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says quietly.

“Yes?”

“Did you…”

He trails off when Wei Wuxian begins slowly rolling up the thin canvas. “I think I just wanted to go for a walk,” he says. “I’ll let the spirits rest today.” He sets the folded flag on a large rock and sits on the ground, his back against the stone, looking out at the plains and town from the recesses of the forest.

“I like walking with you,” Wen Ning says, and sits beside him.

Wei Wuxian usually buries his sorrow in his projects, in the crop fields, in his games with A-Yuan. This aimlessness is the closest glimpse Wen Ning sees of Wei Wuxian’s true state of mind. Wei Wuxian ensures that he is alone whenever he truly lets in his sorrow, but Wen Ning accompanies him during the times when he comes close. As if Wei Wuxian wants him to see—wants someone to see—but refuses to reveal everything.

No one else but Wen Ning has sat next to Wei Wuxian while he draws portraits for no particular reason (he never shows them to Wen Ning, but Wen Ning can guess whom he draws), no one else has slept across the cave from him while he mumbles in his sleep, no one else has wandered down the mountain at night with him.

Wen Ning doesn’t know if he should feel privileged or worried that Wei Wuxian lets him see this much.

He doesn’t think he deserves to know Wei Wuxian’s deepest thoughts, but he wants Wei Wuxian to pass more sorrow onto him, let him shoulder some of the pain. Wen Ning’s heart is dead, he can take it.

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian says. He smooths his robes, adjusts his fitted sleeves. “I haven’t done heartbeat duty in a while, have I?”

“You don’t need to.”

“Maybe I want to.”

Wen Ning looks down at his knees, but Wei Wuxian scoots closer.

With their backs against the rock, Wei Wuxian hugs him in, rests his hand on the side of Wen Ning’s head, cradling him against his chest. Wen Ning tucks his arms away, trying not to touch Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian takes one of his hands.

“It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian says.

Wen Ning waits a moment, wishing he had proper breath to steady himself, then carefully wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian, nestling close to his slender frame.

It feels different this time. Not because their position is different, or because Wuxian’s heartbeat is any faster or slower, stronger or weaker.

There is no purpose this time. It isn’t for Wen Ning to experience sensations more fully. It isn’t for Wei Wuxian to find comfort.

They are just two bodies cast aside from life, bodies that struggled to catch each other during their fall until they landed in each other’s embrace.

Holding Wei Wuxian feels as natural as his heartbeat, as inevitable as each thrum beneath where Wen Ning rests his head.

And just as fleeting.

Wei Wuxian is more alive than any person he knows, yet is wasting away more each day, having given up everything to protect the Dafan Wen.

And Wei Wuxian is not his. Only one thing ties them together: they have each made the other into a member of the living dead.

With whom did it start? Was it Wei Wuxian, who brought Wen Ning back as a fierce corpse, or was it Wen Ning, who held Wei Wuxian down as his core was removed? Or was it the world that did this to both of them?

But despite the thread of shared death that ties them together, Wei Wuxian could break that connection if he wanted to.

Wen Ning is bound to his family, bound to this unnatural body, bound to Chenqing's laments. He can never reenter the world.

But Wei Wuxian...

One day, Wei Wuxian may have the chance to belong in the world again. With his shidi and shijie, with Lan Wangji.

Wen Ning will always be banished to the margins of the world.

“How long are you going to live with us?” Wen Ning finds himself asking.

Leaves rustle quietly in the forest, clouds disappearing above their heads to reveal more stars against the dark liquid sky. An owl hoots questioningly far behind them.

“Until tomorrow,” Wei Wuxian says. “Ask me again tomorrow, and I’ll tell you again.”

“I can’t ask you that every day.”

“Then don’t ask me at all.” He strokes Wen Ning’s hair, over the back of his head and down his back. “I’m not leaving.”

Wei Wuxian continues playing with Wen Ning’s hair, running his fingers through it, stopping occasionally to work out a tangle. Not for the first time, Wen Ning wishes he could feel touch more strongly. He had dreamt of moments like these as a teenager, gentle caresses from Wei Wuxian, impossible moments. He hadn’t realized he would receive them one day after they had given up their lives for each other.

“When do you think we’ll get our next visitor?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Think I can make that Spirit-Attraction Flag into a Guest-Attraction Flag?” He chuckles. “We can hang it at the ridge. People will be drawn from miles to come talk to us. Tell Uncle Four to get lots of fruit wine ready." He fiddles with the sleeve of Wen Ning's robe. "I’ll have you test out the flag. Wear it like a cloak, and go walk around Yiling to see how many friends you make.”

“I can barely get anyone to buy turnips from me.”

“Change of plans, then! I’ll make a Customer-Attraction Flag, and we’ll finally be rich.”

Wen Ning smiles. “What are we going to buy once we’re rich?”

“Toys for A-Yuan.” Wei Wuxian rubs across Wen Ning’s shoulders, back and forth. “Every toy in Yiling.”

“We should buy every toy in Lanling, too.”

“That’ll need a lot more money. We’ll have to grow bigger turnips.”

“A giant one.”

“A single giant turnip?” Now there is real laughter in Wei Wuxian’s voice. “I’ll have to plant you as the seed to grow something big enough. Don’t tell your jiejie. Although she might figure it out when you disappear, and meanwhile a turnip the size of the Burial Mounds takes over Yiling.”

“I still won’t tell her.”

Wei Wuxian makes a low humming sound. “I can always count on you.”

Wen Ning melts more into Wei Wuxian’s embrace, surrounded by his warmth.

“Too bad that no matter who we bury in the lotus pond,” Wei Wuxian says with a sigh, “those plants still don’t want to sprout.” This time he doesn’t rub Wen Ning’s back or fiddle with him while he talks.

He’s never said something like that about the lotus crop without following it up with a confident proclamation—But when have I ever not achieved the impossible?, They’ll poke their heads out soon!, My lotus flowers will be the biggest you’ve seen, just wait!

He’s never left hanging the chance that the lotus crop might not grow.

Wen Ning waits for the cocky remark, but it doesn’t come. “They’ll sprout if you’re the one growing them,” Wen Ning suggests, filling in the declaration that Wei Wuxian missed.

“…Yeah.”

Wen Ning’s stomach sinks. He looks up. Wei Wuxian smiles at him and guides him to rest against his chest again.

“It’s only been two weeks. They might take a while,” Wen Ning says, his face nearly turned into Wei Wuxian’s robes.

“I’ll just cheat and make a Lotus-Attraction Flag.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Of course you will. You’ll also help me with the flag for attracting guests to marvel at the beauty of our lotus pond!”

Guests again.

Wen Ning knows that Hanguang-Jun had visited on the day his consciousness returned. Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli had met with Wei Wuxian soon after. Both left marks on Wei Wuxian.

Is he thinking about them?

Wishing he had warmth of his own to give Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning hugs him tighter. He's not sure if they lower to the ground in one movement or slowly slide down, but eventually they lie on their sides, facing each other, arms tight around each other. Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat speaks, and Wen Ning listens.

I’m lonely, it whispers. I’m so lonely.

Who is there in the Burial Mounds for Wei Wuxian to feel the same affection toward as he feels about Hanguang-Jun? Or to provide the same comfort as the company of his siblings?

Everyone in the Burial Mounds has tried their best to provide the support of a new family for Wei Wuxian. He has even called them his family. But try as they might, how could the Dafan Wen replace his shidi and shijie?

The shidi and shijie Wen Ning helped Wei Wuxian save, only to steal him away from. He knows that it was Wei Wuxian’s choice to lead the Dafan Wen to the Burial Mounds and live with them, but would he have made that choice if he had never formed a relationship with Wen Ning and his sister? The thought makes guilt churn in his stomach.

“Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian runs his thumb in gentle circles over Wen Ning’s shoulder. “Yes?”

“Is that something you want?” He pulls away from Wei Wuxian’s chest to look up at him, though not quite into his eyes. “Guests?”

“Don’t take that all so seriously. If guests come, would they be as good of a drinking buddy as Uncle Four, or as good of a storyteller as Granny, or as energetic as A-Yuan? They couldn’t compete.”

“But you meant it,” Wen Ning says, surprised at the force in his own voice, quiet as it is. “I’ll help you bring guests here.”

Wei Wuxian smiles and brushes his thumb over Wen Ning’s cheek, the touch warm and soft like hushed words. “You’re already too good to me. Don’t worry about me.” He sighs and looks up at the sky. “Each of us will have things we want, but can’t have. It’s just part of living.”

Wen Ning, too, looks up at the star-studded sky through the dark silhouettes of trees. The full shapes of the constellations are broken up, but he can picture which stars are waiting behind the black hands of tree leaves.

As he follows the disjointed forms of the constellations, he decides that he will relieve Wei Wuxian’s burdens.

He is not sure at what moment he makes the decision, but it settles into his bones and becomes his purpose for the night.

Not just for the night. For as long as Wei Wuxian is by his side.

The day Wen Ning’s consciousness was restored, he had heard A-Yuan singing a song about walking the “single-log bridge.” Curious, Wen Ning had asked where A-Yuan learned the song.

“Xian-gege,” had been the answer. The song’s lyrics had been about Wei Wuxian walking alone into darkness.

Wen Ning will not let him walk alone.

If Wei Wuxian wants to walk the single-log bridge, Wen Ning will carry him across it.

“Will you tell me about them?” Wen Ning asks.

“About what?”

“The things you want, but can’t have.”

* * *

Thank you for reading! Next chapter is coming soon. If you enjoyed this fic, come visit me on AO3!

[rueluxprince]

Why Does Jin Guangyao Have So Many Goddamn Ships

This dude. I don’t know what is with him. He can be shipped with so many goddamn people, and you can find something in canon (show/novel/audio drama) to justify it. You like a specific trope? He’ll have a ship that gives it to you. (Lets extrapolate some from canon)

Qin Su/Jin Guangyao: Naive yet headstrong heiress trying to fight on the battlefield and contribute to the greater good. Bit off more than she could chew and was rescued by a gentle and quietly self-assured young man. Romance and comedy ensues as she vows to make him her husband! Flowers! Hijinks! Enlisting quirky handmaidens for advice! Jin Guangshan doesn’t exist in this one!

Lan Xichen/Jin Guangyao: hero saves the beauty, gay edition. Young bookkeeper wants to be worthy of noble young master’s esteem, works his ass off, puts himself in years of danger, finally climbs to the top and now must deal with the “is he or is he not” of romance in politics! Is he or is he not? He’s always at your house and gives you a free pass to his house and draws you exclusive paintings and only attends conferences hosted by you and trusts you completely! But he never says anything! Cue the yearning! The soft touches! Reminders of etiquette! Swooning into strong arms!

Jiang Cheng/Jin Guangyao: reluctant and accidental co-parents reluctantly and accidentally fall in love in the long years of raising a precocious nephew into adulthood. The kid turned out surprisingly okay, with a commendably hard moral backbone. One realizes it’s nice to have a perpetually angry grape ready to blow up in your defense. The other realizes someone closest to him is already fulfilling all his marriage requirements and he didn’t even know it! Domestic bliss! Cute kids! Internal struggles of sexuality! The italicized oh!

Nie Mingjue/Jin Guangyao: Noble and righteous leader recognizing and promoting downtrodden but talented beginner –> no good opinion forthcoming but still wants to care his own way older brother x turning down a dark path but still wants to go back the way things were younger brother –> So much resentment fierce corpse x unable to forget the guilt murderer –> they are buried together. Deteriorating relationship! Shakespearean tragedy! Ultimate darkness! Death! Eternity with each other!

(Honorable mention: 3zun - a wholesome ouroboros loop of death, mystery and found family)

Nie Huaisang/Jin Guangyao: you ever have that one childhood friend that takes care of you and indulges in your oddities and protects you with murderous looks and a scarred back even though he’s frailer than you are; and then that childhood friend murders your older brother but leaves you alive and still takes cares of you and spoils you and would drop everything to help you with a made up problem? And so you’re now left seething in rage because how dare he ruin you and love you all without pause?! Cue the revenge plots! Lies! Deceit! Best actor winners going toe to toe on the world’s biggest stage! Inner conflict! Angst! More conflicted plotting!

Mo Xuanyu->Jin Guangyao: You’re weak and a mess and constantly bullied and the only one in this huge and scary house that ever showed you kindness is your older half brother. He becomes a god in your eyes, all golden and brilliant and surrounded by equally golden and beautiful people you can never touch. But you still try despite everything because he’s the sun and he wanted you to thrive, and you’re just a little moth ramming head first into the flames. And when you’re scorched to the bone and everyone still keeps on trying to stomp you into ash and you finally decide to take revenge, you still can’t bring yourself to blame that splendid sun who were never yours in the first place. Resentments! Unrequited love! More angst! Inner courtyard intrigues! More tragedy! Poetic inner monologues!

Su She->Jin Guangyao: generous and focused ruler x dedicated and competent supporter. He gives you all the respect you need and you know in your soul you will die for him and you don’t care one whit about it. You protect his heart but you always stood one step behind. The position beside him is taken, often by a soft figure in golden silk, or an eminent figure in blue satin. Jealousy! Loud expressions of loyalty! Ego management! Pining and simping!

Xue Yang/Jin Guangyao - friends who murder together stays together. One causes wanton destruction and the other picks up after them. Not because he particularly cares that people are getting hurt but the cost analysis tells him it’s not worth the clean up. You pay for my shopping, I rip out the tongues of anyone that insults your mother. Lighthearted talks of murder! Scheming with friends! Lots of cursing! Dubious experiments! Lots of magical cursing! Friends with benefits!

Wen Ruohan/Meng Yao: local megalomanic tyrant sees this random ass kid all bloodied up and gleaming with spite and went “I would like to raise that one. I’ll give it a sword and I’ll teach him stuff and I won’t say I appreciate him but I will definitely save him from imminent danger.” And that kid acknowledges said tyrant as his teacher and tortures for him pretends to love him, all the while stealing his secrets and preparing to stab him in the back to win the war. Struggle! Trauma! Living in hardship! Double agent reminding themselves not to be conflicted! Psychological torture!

Wen Chao + Wen Xu: uhhhhhh, the canoodling with stepmom trope? Do we even go that far on tumblr? It’s a possibility I’ve considered for about two seconds and now I wish I could wash my brain out.

Jin Zixun~~Jin Guangyao: the “I know I’m slapping the me two years ago in the face with what I’m doing right now but it’s love so I don’t care” trope? All the Jins do this. The year before you were all “why are you always here you don’t belong here you bastard son” and now you’re all “wheres A-Yao he promised he would ambush this public menace with me owo?!??!!??” What a weakass motherfucker with weakass principles.

Honorable mentions:

Wei Wuxian + Jin Guangyao: best in law dynamics, potentially. Terrorizing the Cloud Recesses, eating lots of spicy food, hiding secrets in perfectly groomed hair, causing aneurysms in Lan Qiren, violating all the OH&S regulations Etc.

Lan Wangji + Jin Guangyao: best in law dynamics, actually. It’s a whole battle. Jin “I am physically incapable of seeing someone and not wanting to take care of it” Guang “yes I will be calling you Wangji and trying to give you stuff and show audible concern for your love life” Yao vs. Lan “I do not wish to know you I do not care for your seating arrangements do not ever invite me to your banquets again” Wang “just because you’re maybe dating my precious older brother does not mean I will not refute you to your face about my boyfriend at your banquet in front of said brother” Ji.

(And yes the last two are purely familial/platonic. And also everyone else? You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift is the most fitting theme song for half of them)

~more MDZS metas under #my thing# tag~

[nancywheelxr]

i'm not sure if you prefer more specific prompts but if you have any interest, something canon-era (compliant or divergence) in the realm of "ye baiyi & every- or anyone"? whichever characters you wanna include; a moment or moments where he feels like maybe there is a little more to the rest of his life than duty and death. it's not only warm food he's been starved of for decades. your writing is great, i hope you're having a good day!

hi! thank you sm! i love getting prompts regardless, honestly, the only difference is that more specific ones tend to get done faster if only bc I already have a loose idea where to go with it! anyway, this somehow turned into a fix-it. that being said, I hope you’re having a lovely day too!

*

i.

They’re so painfully young.

A bird chirps in a tree somewhere nearby and around the fire, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple throws the blanket on the Wen brat’s face. What set off his sensibilities this time, Ye Baiyi doesn’t know, it might have been the perceived coddling, it might have simply been the fussing– either way, it’s pointless. Does he not know the brat will simply wait until he’s asleep to cover him? Does he not know their ridiculous dance around each other is nothing but time wasted?

How do the young ever get anything done?

Foolish. Have they ever been that foolish? Changqing, he knows, was a most ridiculous man with even more ridiculous ideas– who’s the bigger idiot, then, the fool or the one who loves him? 

“Ye-qianbei,” the boy appears at his side, wide-eyed like a newborn deer and with legs as shaky as one too, “if you’re cold, we have more blankets.”

The absurdity of the situation– to ask Ye Baiyi if he’s cold! What’s the night chill compared to the snowy grounds of his mountain? To him, is this not warm weather? “Little fool,” he says, shaking his head even as he laughs, “you’d do better worrying about your idiot master and his idiot friend.”

The kid looks across the fire, grimaces. “I don’t dare, I don’t dare! My brothers used to tell me not to get in the way when my parents were arguing!”

What a ridiculous child. Ye Baiyi laughs again. “They’re not arguing, they’re being dumb. Watch this,” he flicks a little rock at them, hitting Qin Huaizhang’s disciple in the forehead and earning an outraged glare from the Wen brat. “Qing Huaizhang’s disciple, your disciple is freezing off while you’re fooling around. Is this how you the two of you are going to raise your child?”

Beside him, the kid makes a startled little noise like a scared little rabbit before launching into a stuttering denial, but it’s too late, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple has already turned to focus on him as if smelling blood. “Chengling, are you cold? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Ah, no, no, I’m really not,” he tries, but he is, he wouldn’t have known to worry about others if he hadn’t been feeling the chill himself. “Ye-qianbei! Ye-qianbei–”

“Ah, ah!” Wen Kexing interrupts, shaking a finger in his direction, “why are you calling him? Come here, have this blanket since your Shifu is being stubborn.”

The boy goes obediently, shuffling around and nearly tripping on the log, and allows the Wen brat to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. Predictably, once he’s tucked in, the kid beams, pulling it tightly around himself. 

“Chengling, if you’re cold, you have to tell us,” says Qin Huaizhang’s disciple as if that’s a scolding, as if he’s not fussing over the child himself, stoking the fire and throwing in more kindling. 

A silly child with even sillier parents. Ye Baiyi snorts, shaking his head, and for a fleeting moment, he imagines walking this path alone– searching for the truth on his own, a silent forest stretching all the way to Longyuan Cabinet, only his footsteps left behind to prove he was even there at all– whatever. Picking up Qin Huaizhang’s dumb disciple and his dumb companions might not have been his worst decision so far. 

Maybe he could have found the place already if he were on his own, but at the very least they’re entertaining. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, shaking his head at the blanket the kid has left folded at his feet.

*

ii.

What a mess.

Rong Xuan, you little brat, he thinks. How long has it been since the boy had first toddled up to him, little hands grabbing fistfuls of his robes? Too many, an eternity, and now nearly all of the boy’s friends are dead, all but one, and Ye Baiyi has to pay his respects to this freshly dug grave in his place. 

What a mess.

If you were in trouble, why didn’t you come back? Questions, questions, it’s too easy to ask them now. Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you send for us? Why did you think it would accomplish, running away? Stupid child, did you think we would turn you away? 

No, there’s no use asking them now, no point in dwelling in the past. What is there to change, after it already happened? Life is a very long road and the past is a land too distant to travel back to; Ye Baiyi would rather focus on the now.

Avenging their child had not been part of the promise he made to Changqing, but Ye Baiyi found the truth of this matter as he told him he would and the truth of it is that someone poisoned his disciple, his child. This cannot go unpunished, so for a while longer, he’ll live.

Further still, a little ways down, is Wen Kexing, whose parents died for Rong Xuan’s mistakes. A child growing up in a harsh world on his own. This debt, he’ll repay too.

For all that he gives his promises away like currency, Ye Baiyi is not sure how he feels about the piling of them– they stretch his finally numbered days, always pushing the deadline further. After the Heroes Conference, he’ll be done with the Ghost Valley. After he finds Rong Xuan’s murderer, he’ll be done with this mess. After he repays Wen Kexing, he will be at peace. 

And then–

Well. And then wine. Warm food. That was the plan, was it not? Heavens, he’s beginning to sound like Qin Huaizhang’s silly disciple, isn’t he? This won’t do. Changqing, even you would laugh at them. Tell me, then, if you were here, what would you do? Ah, something nonsensical, most likely, like go watch the plum trees bloom.

Ye Baiyi shakes his head, laughs. Changqing ah, won’t you tell me what to do? Maybe this time I’ll listen to you.

*

iii.

What kind of nonsense is this?

In all fairness, as much as his opinion of Wen Kexing has been as changing as the seasons, his uncanny ability to be an annoying nuisance has never flickered. He was annoying when he was staring down Ye Baiyi’s sword and he was annoying when he kneeled on the forest bed in apology and plea. 

Surely, it’s no surprise that he is annoying now, allegedly dead.

And yet, Ye Baiyi had not anticipated this level of stupidity from him: the brat did not tell Qin Huaizhang’s disciple of his plan.

Children, honestly. 

Now, the hem of his robes is wet and a few feet away, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is wasting perfectly good wine in an unnecessarily dramatic manner. “Whatever stupid thing you’re planning,” Ye Baiyi says, eyeing the broken jar by the rocks, the dullness around the brat, “don’t.”

Zhou Zishu whirls on him with all the grace of a dying wet cat as if he’s in any condition to be fighting anyone, as if his hands weren’t shaking and his steps didn’t falter. The sword, once elegant and proud, wavers. Stupid boy. “Ye Baiyi, you–”

“Have you lost your manners down that jar? Or just your common sense? Put that away before I knock it off your hand myself,” he sighs, shaking his head. He should have stayed in his rooms, like planned, until the Heroes Conference; none of this has anything to do with him, his role in this play is mostly over, he just has to wait it out the intermission. And yet. “What kind of nonsense were you thinking? That fool, Wen Kexing, ran around for days like a headless chicken trying to save you and for what? You to throw it away?”

“What’s the point?” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple laughs, cold as the mountains, “what’s the point if he’s not here? Tell me, qianbei, why should I care to live if my soulmate is gone?”

His sword is dragging up the mud and Ye Baiyi wants to call him disrespectful for it, but the sight of it alone dredges up a well of grief that drowns the words in his throat. Why, indeed. This terrible emptiness, Ye Baiyi knows well– the hollow silence that comes where once a familiar voice called your name, the cold where once there was warmth, a hand never reaching back. Snow, all through summer and spring.

“Because that dumb disciple of yours will not last a day on his own,” he tells him, watching the water run towards the cliff’s edge, “because Qin Huaizhang has only you to pass on his legacy. Because that ridiculous hairpin on your head.”

“That’s not fair,” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple says, sounding exactly like he had been about to do something incredibly stupid earlier that would render this entire charade pointless from the start.

Truth be told, few things are, least of all, fate. Ah, but Ye Baiyi had unchanging decades to come to terms with that, perhaps he should spare the boy the heartache, unfounded as it is. “It’s not, but enough is enough. What are you crying for? Did you think it’s that easy to get rid of that pest? He should be ashamed if a little tumble is all it took.”

“Qianbei… you mean?”

Ye Baiyi heaves a pointedly tired sigh. “Yes, yes, the brat is alive. Probably holed up somewhere in that blasted valley of his.”

Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is as wide-eyed as his baby-deer disciple and if he actually starts crying, Ye Baiyi will drag Wen Kexing out of hiding kicking and screaming just to push him down the cliff again for making him witness this. He’s too old, he has little patience for the dramatics of the young, and he’s supposed to be drinking the best wine from the Yueyang area. 

So before he’s pulled even further into their nonsense, Ye Baiyi turns away, back to town and his quarters where he can drink and meditate in peace and really, Qin-xiaozi, your disciple is even sillier than you. 

At his back, he hears Zhou Zishu call, but his voice is lost to the waterfalls and Ye Baiyi makes no real effort to catch the words. What’s there to say? Pah, he’s already done more than his share on this, at no point did he promise to intervene on their pointless little dance. Once this is all over, that brat has better pay for all the wine in the land. And make those dumplings, too, for good measure.

*

iv.

Nobody told him whose wedding this is.

Considering they are in this thrice-damned place, he’s assuming it’s one of the ghosts, but Ye Baiyi figures the brat would be more annoying if it was his and Qin Huaizhang’s disciple’s. Then again, his own presence here is unfathomable, as is the insistence with which the little idiot had asked him to come. What on earth has Qin Huaizhang’s disciple told that child? Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile, truly– now that boy is running around thinking Ye Baiyi cares about these lunatics.

“Who let him in!” Wen Kexing is screeching from somewhere, and Ye Baiyi mourns his peace as the brat approaches with his purple shadow trailing after. Had she been there this entire time? He squints. No, he would have noticed it, she’s very loud. “Old toad monster! Why are you still here? Who allowed you past the gates?”

“Who are you to tell me where to go?” He scoffs, flicking his sleeves as he crosses his arms. Nearby, a ghost hastily scurries away. “And it was your dumb disciple who begged me to be here. For what? Will there even be a banquet? And you call that decorations? That lantern is so crooked, it’s offensive!”

The purple child bristles. “Ah! And who does that silly boy think he is, inviting people to my wedding! Old man, you! Of course there’s gonna be food! Master and Luo-yi have been–”

“A-Xiang!” The brat cuts her off, closed fan tapping her forehead, as if everyone and their grandmothers don’t already know he’s been running around making preparations. What face is there to save, shameless as he is? If Ye Baiyi was a lesser man, he might have rolled his eyes. “Stop running your mouth, what is your husband going to say? And you! What crooked lantern? You’re going blind in your age!”

Still, even as he speaks, a pointed glare sends the ghosts scattering like mice, rushing to check on the decorations. Ridiculous. “No wonder the girl has no manners. What, you only know how to be polite when asking for something?”

Wen Kexing grumbles. “This one apologizes, qianbei.”

Well, that’s certainly worse. Unsettling. If even Wen Kexing starts being deferential, then what has the world come to? No, Ye Baiyi finds he’d prefer the brashness. Stupid child, what’s the point in changing his tune now? Pah. “Girl,” he says to that purple wisp of a thing, “your master is a pest. Where’s the wine?”

Baffling enough, the girl laughs, tugging at her master’s sleeves. “Master, master, Zishu-ge was right! You did make a friend!”

“What nonsense is this! Don’t you know when A-Xu is teasing? Friends! As if–”

“What rubbish have you been filling these children’s heads with?” He shakes a threatening finger in their direction. Not that it matters, considering the girl has already stepped back, giggling as she sidesteps Wen Kexing’s fan. 

Leaving them to their childishness, Ye Baiyi slips out of the crowd, picking a jar of wine as he goes. The alcohol is good, burning down his throat, and he hadn’t thought he’d step foot in the Ghost Valley, not like this. Something in him will always recoil at this place, always lay the blame at the valley’s mouth, a yawning jaw that’s swallowed whole the people most precious to him with no mercy. 

And yet, Changqing ah, you bastard, look at it. They’re holding a damned wedding, and here Ye Baiyi is, drinking their wine. Are you happy now? Did you become a bodhisattva yet? Fate makes fools of them all, there’s no way around it. He pours the wine over the rocks, lets it spill and run like blood. Xuan’er, did I not tell you not to climb so high? That shifu wouldn’t always be there to catch you if you slip on the ice? Ye Baiyi laughs at the memory– always clear in his mind, suspended in time, unfading, even if his sight blurs with tears– that boy, always scaring them half to death, climbing up the frozen mountainside as a child, then crying in fright once he looked down. 

“Look at the mess you’ve both left me,” he says out loud, downing the rest of the wine, and the silence is never quite as loud as in the hollow space where another would speak. For so long, Ye Baiyi knew to leave room for Changqing’s teasing, for their child’s incessant questions, even Rong-furen’s tired voice. Then, nothing. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm? Typical. I’ll drink for all of us this time, then, how about it? Changqing, I’m keeping my promises, so you’d better keep yours or I’ll–” 

The jar breaks where it falls from his fingers and he shakes his head as if dispelling the murky thoughts from his head. Perhaps, coming here was a mistake. The ashes have already been sent back to Changming, so what business does he have in this place? To see it closed with his own eyes? Besides, a wedding or two, a handful of people, are not worth the bloodshed creating the valley has brought, no matter what Changqing might say. 

Is this a comforting story to be told later, if– by the bridge, in case– 

His thoughts grind to a halt, veering off suddenly into attention to his surroundings. Someone is coming. Indeed, from his place near the entrance, Ye Baiyi can see in the distance a mob climbing up the path, silent as thieves in the night, with only a blue streak of disciples in plain sight at the front.

So much for avoiding bloodshed. Did they even wait for the dust to settle after the monks left town? And what kind of harebrained scheme is this? Has this generation been born with no brains? Such a reckless, petty move! No honor, agreeing to something and then plunging the knife behind their backs. 

There is little time to curse their dishonesty, though, with their numbers fast approaching, so Ye Baiyi swipes a last look at the desolate landscape and slips back inside to sound the alarms. After all, heaven knows that little purple girl will be terribly loud if she doesn’t get her wedding, and Ye Baiyi is not looking forward to remembering what headaches feel like. Honestly, if these people would stop nearly dying for five fucking minutes–

*

v.

Today, the mirror showed a new patch of white hair, faint lines at the corner of his eyes. 

Time, it seems, is catching up to him.

It’s exhilarating.

The plum trees have already lost their blossoms, winter gone as swiftly as it came, the cold melting to the lingering warmth of spring. Today, he walks past blooming azaleas, purple and red radiant against the blue backdrop of the sky.

It brings him to little Qin Huaizhang standing beside Rong Xuan, trying so very hard to impress his friend’s seniors with all the desperation of youth. The poetry he had waxed about his sect’s gardens– Four Seasons Manor, blooming all year round! Ye Baiyi had found him so silly, blabbering while Rong Xuan beamed, so quick to pick the fights Rong Xuan dropped. 

At the time, had he not thought history was repeating itself, if kinder? The Baiyi sword, gifted with the promise to keep his dumb disciple out of trouble? He still remembers Changqing’s face, the hypocrite. So exchanging swords for cursed books is fine, but anything else and you draw the line? At least promises were as reliable as the person making them. 

Now, he has to admit, the silly boy had not been wrong– Four Seasons Manor stands in more color than Ye Baiyi had thought possible. If he’ll have time to witness all its blooms, he doesn’t know, but this spring, he’s here, and isn’t that enough?

At the gates, the young disciple lets him in without a word, bowing respectfully like his seniors have never done. Good. At the very least, those two good-for-nothing brats had the decency to forewarn their juniors of his arrival. How long has it been since Qin Huaizhang’s disciple woke up from the procedure? Aiyah, Ye Baiyi can’t remember, he had been traveling south at the time. 

Well, it’s long enough to be past the need for coddling, that’s for sure. “Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, what kind of Sect Leader are you that you won’t come greet your esteemed guest?”

“Not really a Sect Leader,” comes the voice from his left as Zhou Zishu rounds into view, his silly disciple trailing faithfully after him. He looks better now, death no longer draped over his shoulders like a shroud, smiling like he found peace somewhere in the months since that disastrous wedding. “Qianbei, this one is honored to welcome you to our house. You’ve come at a good time, A-Xiang is visiting with her husband too.”

“Who’s an esteemed guest here? All I’m hearing is a bunch of freeloaders!” says Wen Kexing from somewhere inside the building, just as loud and brash as always, and following his words, the thundering footsteps of children. 

Ye Baiyi snorts, shakes his head. Changqing ah, wait a little while longer, will you? I’m on my way, but I have some places to visit first. Meet me by the bridge, I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.

[unforth]

So keeping in mind that I’ve literally already written a 40k Destiel fic inspired by Selena Gomez’s “Back to You,” today it came up on my play list and I started to think about ficcing it again, but this time Wangxian. It’s just such a ficcable song, I can’t even.

Like, a modern AU (set in the US) where Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were once dating, and Wei Wuxian started making friends with “the wrong sorts,” and so Lan Qiren forced Lan Wangji to dump him. They part ways for a few years.

Lan Wangji never really recovers, and he perfunctorily dates the people his uncle sets him up with, and his life kinda stalls...not that there’s anything wrong with it, just...it’s always the same, the same places, the same people, the same work, the same wake up time, the same daily routine, the same bedtime. Sometimes he’s not sure which he misses more - Wei Wuxian, or the disruption to his life that Wei Wuxian represents. He almost wishes that Wei Wuxian has gone as “bad” as Lan Qiren was so, so sure he would, because then it would be proof - that stepping outside the box is not the way to a good life, that Lan Wangji made the right choices even if he’s not happy with them, that kind of thing.

Wei Wuxian also never really recovers, but instead of letting it get him down, he’s even more determined to prove that he’s so much more than what snobs like Lan Qiren thought of him - and so are the friends he made, who are of course Wen Qing and Wen Ning. They also have really had a tough time, with a lot of people assuming the worst about them because of their family connections. The three make a pact together - to succeed, no matter what it takes, and to help each other whenever one of them starts to struggle. And it works. Though they’re a little behind their peers - they all go to college, and they all finish their degrees, they all get advanced ones. Wen Qing becomes a doctor. Wei Wuxian becomes an engineer. Wen Ning becomes a vet. They get respectable jobs, if poorly paid because that’s the economy in 2020s USA, and they’re slowly building lives for themselves. No one from the circles his adopted family move in will associate with him anyway - he got kicked out for some of his youthful shenanigans, and though he’s in touch with his siblings, his “parents” won’t acknowledge him - but he doesn’t care. He knows he’s succeeding, no matter what they say about him.

(read more)

Though Lan Wangji never stops thinking about Wei Wuxian, he refuses to Google him or look him up. Fantasize about him? Yes. Wish his current SO was them? Yes. Occasionally scroll through Jiang Yanli’s friends list just to make sure Wei Wuxian is still there? Yes. But he doesn’t look him up, doesn’t friend him, doesn’t outreach. Why should he? Some regrets are normal, but he’s over it - he’s definitely over it.

Not that Wei Wuxian expected him to. Lan Wangji broke his heart, and it hurt - oh, it hurt so much, but Wei Wuxian is definitely over him. Who needs that asshole anyway? Wei Wuxian knows his worth, and he doesn’t need the affection of someone who cast him aside at the say so of his uncle. If he occasionally comes moaning Lan Wangji’s name...that’s a perfectly normal thing to do as regards someone Wei Wuxian hasn’t dated in a decade, right? Lan Wangji was, and presumably still is, hot as fuck, and Wei Wuxian has a healthy labido

Which is to say, neither of them is over it at all.

Still, their mutual pining might have never come to a head if not for Lan Wangji’s best friend - Jin Zixuan - getting engaged to Wei Wuxian’s sister Jiang Yanli.

And then, suddenly, after so many years, they’re in frequent contact again - helping with planning the wedding - and, well...

For Wei Wuxian, it’s infuriating. There’s Lan Wangji, still quiet, still distant, and sometimes when Wei Wuxian glances his way, he can swear that he caught Lan Wangji looking at him with resentment and regret, which - that’s some fucking bullshit right there, cause it’s not Wei Wuxian who ditched Lan Wangji, not Wei Wuxian who caved to family pressure. That’s all Lan Wangji - what’s Lan Wangji got to resent?

For Lan Wangji, it’s awful. Wei Wuxian is at least 8 times more gorgeous than Lan Wangji remembers him being, tall and lithe, his hair long, his affect casual. Despite the same air of nonchalance he always projected, though, now he’s like that but ALSO educated, successful, and self-made. Every bad thing Lan Qiren said would come to pass for Wei Wuxian is now proven a lie, and Lan Wangji feels wretched about it. Even worse, Wei Wuxian is clearly single - and “ready to mingle,” as Lan Wangji believes the phrase goes. Literally anyone who breaths, of any gender, is apparently fair game, and Wei Wuxian flirts constantly, especially with members of Lan Wangji’s friends circle. Mo Xuanyu? The poor guy never knew what hit him. Lan Jingyi? Is like eight years to young for Wei Wuxian, but that doesn’t stop him. Ouyang Zizhen? Lan Wangji is pretty sure Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know Zizhen’s name - or his age - but again, when did any reasonable objection ever stop Wei Wuxian? Luo Qingyang? She’s a lesbian for fucks sake, but she apparently doesn’t mind, and even flirts back, and Wei Wuxian is incorrigible.

Maybe Lan Qiren was right after all.

Wei Wuxian is determined to flaunt what Lan Wangji missed out on, loudly and publicly. Mo Xuanyu does make for a fun fling, and Lan Jingyi is a good kisser but they never get farther than that. Ouyang Zizhen is definitely too young - and he’s straight - but he laughs along when Wei Wuxian is outrageous, and they understand each other. And Luo Qingyang...Wei Wuxian suspects she knows exactly what the score is, and is maybe even helping him.

Helping him make Lan Wangji miserable, that is.

Wei Wuxian is definitely not looking to accomplish anything else.

Unless he can secure a Plus One to the wedding, ideally one who can join the wedding party and stand beside Wei Wuxian when he and Jiang Cheng give Jiang Yanli away.

Cause, oh, the look on Lan Wangji’s face, if he’s forced to spend the entire wedding facing Wei Wuxian and his date? Priceless, definitely.

Lan Wangji is determined to give Wei Wuxian the space to do...whatever it is Wei Wuxian is doing. Wei Wuxian always was a whirlwind, and Lan Wangji has never wanted to control him, never known how to keep up. Still, it galls to see Wei Wuxian flirting, and it hurts to see Wei Wuxian act indifferently towards him, and it aches to remember that, had things been different, Lan Wangji could have been on the receiving end of all those lovely, carefree smiles.

Rather than deal with the difficulty he has breathing whenever he’s in the same room as Wei Wuxian is in the room, Lan Wangji throws himself into the logistic planning of the final weeks leading up to the wedding. He coordinates vendors. He soothes ruffled feathers. He makes sure the caterers know literally everyone’s dietary preferences and restrictions. He works, and he works, and he works, and he tries to do nothing but work, but sometimes...

...Wen Qing will wander by, take over his spreadsheet, and tell him to go socialize...

...or Wen Ning will intercept the decoration Lan Wangji was moving, lift it surprisingly effortlessly, and tell Lan Wangji to join the main gathering...

...or Luo Qingyang will come and lecture him about how hiding is dumb and maybe he’d actually meet someone new if he tried.

As if Lan Wangji will get to meet someone new.

As if Lan Qiren will let Lan Wangji be with them, even if Lan Wangji did.

They’re trying to help, but he can’t figure out why. Wen Qing and Wen Ning especially are barely even his friends - but they’re closer to Wei Wuxian than anyone else in the world...Lan Wangji can’t fathom what they’re up to. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think they were trying to get him back together with Wei Wuxian? Which makes him think they don’t know Wei Wuxian half as well as they think they do, cause there’s no way that Wei Wuxian wants that - no way that Wei Wuxian wants him. Lan Wangji had his chance. He gets that.

(But, oh, it’d be nice to believe, even for a minute, even for a single dinner party, that maybe that would be something Wei Wuxian would want.)

But that’s impossible.

So Wei Wuxian flirts shamelessly.

And Lan Wangji hides behind duty and a stoic facade.

And the day of the wedding approaches - they get through the rehearsal dinner, the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the hangovers the next morning, all of it...and then it’s time.

Lan Wangji knows he should be watching Jin Zixuan, dressed in full Chinese traditional garb for an utterly Western style wedding, but instead he can’t keep his eyes off the opposite wedding party. Luo Qingyang is maid of honor, in a chongseom that makes no sense as either traditional Chinese or modern Western - and Jiang Yanli insisted on her brothers standing at her side, and so Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are both there.

In tuxedos.

A sharp contrast to the robes in muted colors that Jin Zixuan picked out for his wedding party.

And Jiang Cheng still has a look on his face like he stepped in something gross and is too dignified to wipe it off on the carpeting, but Wei Wuxian...oh, Wei Wuxian is so perfect, absolutely flawless, and his pleasure is so obviious and uninhibited. From the moment the tent flaps open and Jiang Fengmian walks his daughter, in full Phoenix robes and an elaborate golden head dress (a family heirloom, no less), Wei Wuxian only has eyes for his sister, and his joy for her is spectacular and makes Lan Wangji’s chest ache.

As the ceremony commences - Western secular, seriously, what, not that it’s a surprise, Lan Wangji helped plan it, but it’s still weird - Lan Wangji looses himself in the rhythm of non-religious liturgy and imagining that, had his life gone differently, how Wei Wuxian looks now might have been how he’d have looked on their wedding day.

He wants that so badly.

He so, so desperately wishes that could have been.

For once, Lan Wangji isn’t wrong about Wei Wuxian’s train of thought. He’s got eyes for no one but Jiang Yanli - well, and a small aside of imagining all the ways he’ll make Jin Zixuan regret ever being born, should he ever hurt her. The ceremony passes so quickly he’s amazed - usually he’s super impatient and antsy during events like this - but no, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s...and then it’s over, and he glances to the groom’s party, and he realizes...Lan Wangji is staring at him.

Reflecting back over the ceremony...Lan Wangji has been staring at him the whole time?

And seriously - what the fuck is up with that? What had Wei Wuxian done wrong this time? Was it the tux? Lan Wangji coordinated the rental, if he’d objected to the Western attire, he had plenty of time to say something. Was it the way Wei Wuxian was rocking back on his heels? As if Jiang Yanli didn’t know Wei Wuxian couldn’t stand still - as if she’d ever hold that against him! His mind scrambles through explanations, each more ridiculous and rude than the last...no matter what the reason is, he’s sure that his existence offends Lan Wangji, as it also offended Lan Qiren. If it didn’t, why would Lan Wangji have treated him so indifferently since they re-met?

(It definitely isn’t because Wei Wuxian has intentionally kept him at arms length, oh no, this - whatever this is - is absolutely entirely Lan Wangji’s fault.)

Still, now that he’s aware of Lan Wangji’s condemnation, Wei Wuxian can’t stop thinking about it. It preoccupies him all through agonizingly dull hour of taking group photographs in various places in the picturesque garden, and all through the brief period he actually gets to spend during the passed platter part of the reception - hors d’ouevres to tide the guests over while the family and wedding parties do the pictures - and all through the achingly dull meal. The food is good, Wei Wuxian supposes. The wedding has been nice, Wei Wuxian supposes. Jiang Yanli is elated, Wei Wuxian knows, and he’s delighted for her, but...somehow, the joy has drained out of the evening.

Fucking Lan Wangji - can’t behave himself for one fucking evening, he’s even going to ruin this for Wei Wuxian.

Fuck it - as soon as the meal is over, and the first dances done, and the reception switches from staid social affair to open bar dance party, Wei Wuxian resolves to get sloshed as fast as humanly possible. Anything to stop him from thinking so damn much.

Lan Wangji is one of a handful of designated drivers amongst the people in his generation - he’s expecting to do at least three runs back to the hotel, starting with the bride and groom, then all the Jin half-siblings, then probably the Jiangs, judging by how they’re behaving so far, and then...he doesn’t know, but he suspects there’ll be others. Looking around as the evening grows later, the music louder, and the dancing more raucous, he tries to do a mental tally, and realizes...something is wrong.

No, nothing is wrong...someone is missing.

Where’s Wei Wuxian?

Confused, Lan Wangji looks around again. Wei Wuxian had been dancing - with his sister, with his brother in law, with Luo Qingyang, with Mo Xuanyu, with the folks a half-generation younger like Lan Jingyi, with anyone or anyone, by himself...but no...Luo Qingyang is dancing with Wen Qing, if “intense dance floor frottage” can be considered dancing...and Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli are dancing together, and Mo Xuanyu is flirting with some guy Lan Wangji doesn’t recognize, and the half-generation younger folks are teasing some poor Jiang junior, and Wei Wuxian has been exuberantly present for much of the evening, and now he’s just...gone.

As drunk as Wei Wuxian appeared to be, that can’t be good.

So, concerned - just that Wei Wuxian is drunk and might have tried something dumb, like driving home himself, or gotten lost on the way to the bathroom, or needed to throw up, not about anything else, Lan Wangji is definitely not concerned about Wei Wuxian in any other respect - Lan Wangji goes in search of Wei Wuxian.

He checks around the outside of the tent - nothing.

He checks inside the venue’s main building - nothing.

He checks the bathrooms - nothing.

He checks the parking lots - nothing, and of course Wei Wuxian didn’t take a vehicle, he didn’t drive himself.

He checks everywhere he can think, as the night grows later and darker and the party proceeds and the oldest, most staid guests start to say their goodbyes.

Finally, tired, out of ideas, and disinterested in returning to the loud bright heat of the tent, Lan Wangji goes for a walk through the manicured grounds. Even in the dark of night, the place the Jin-Jiang’s chose is lovely. Scattered decorative lights cast barely enough light to navigate the lanes and paths, aided by a full moon and the occasional flicker of a firefly. There’s a koi pond in the center - they took a lot of pictures there - and a few stone benches around it, so Lan Wangji meanders in that direction. He can still hear the party. He’ll know when they need him. He really needs some time to himself - it’s all been too much.

He tries not to think too hard about what “it” actually refers to in that thought.

Nothing Wei Wuxian does diffuses the empty feeling in his chest; every drink, he feels worse. Every dance, he feels more like he’s putting on an act. His friends were starting to notice - Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing had exchanged a look and then rounded on him like they were going to pin him down and force him to...or try to force him to...talk about his ~feelings~, and so Wei Wuxian fled into the gardens, found a bench where he could listen to the soft sussuration of flowing water somehow audible over the thump of the bass, and breathe.

It’s been a long time since Wei Wuxian felt like he could breathe.

He still doesn’t feel like he can breathe.

Which is ridiculous, he knows, and he’s in the process of going into extensive internal detail of why it’s ridiculous when a damn ghost steps into the clearing around the koi pond...

...no, not a ghost...it’s Lan Wangji, cheeks pale from how much time he spends in doors, robes nearly white when their pale blue is washed out by the moonlight, hair raven falling about his shoulders. His headband frames his noble brow, and his corsage rains a trail of vining flowers over one shoulder like some strange epaulette, and oh, he’s gorgeous, and Wei Wuxian recognizes, to his horror, in that instant...

...he’s never, ever, ever been over Lan Wangji, and he never will be...

...and he’ll never, ever, ever get to be with Lan Wangji. Like, ever.

Lan Wangji is staring at him.

Fuck Wei Wuxian’s life.

“I’ll just...go...” Wei Wuxian mumbles.

The statement hangs heavy in the night air as Wei Wuxian rises, straightens his tux, heads toward the pathway that Lan Wangji just entered from...and then stops.

Because Lan Wangji has grabbed his forearm.

“Oh come on, man - what the fuck?” Wei Wuxian demands, yanking his arm away. “Look, I get it, I’m your least favorite person - well, the wedding’s done, you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want. Is that what you want? Would that finally make you happy?”

He’s breathing hard by the time he stops talking, and Lan Wangji is still staring at him, and Wei Wuxian wants to flee - not to the tent, but to...literally anywhere...anywhere that Lan Wangji isn’t...except he can’t make his legs work, and he can’t seem to move, and Lan Wangji won’t. stop. staring. and then Lan Wangji opens his mouth, and it seems to be in slow motion, and is he actually going to speak, holy shit, Lan Wangji hasn’t said a word to Wei Wuxian since he said, “good bye” ten years ago, and then of all the fucking things to come out of Lan Wangji’s mouth, all he says is,

“No.”

“Wha...why...ho...WHAT?”

“You asked, ‘is that what I want? Would that make me happy?’ The answer is no, Wei Ying. That is not what I want. That would not make me happy.”

“Oh. Well. Fucking good for you.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s saying. He doesn’t know what the fuck Lan Wangji is saying. All he knows is that being there hurts, and he’s so damn tired of hurting, and Lan Wangji already destroyed him once...

...and I’d give anything for five minutes with him, even if I know he’ll likely destroy me again...

“What do you want?” asks Lan Wangji, like he actually cares about the answer, and Wei Wuxian can only goggle at him, because he was so so incredibly clear about what he wanted ten years ago - he even fucking asked Lan Wangji to marry him, said, “I’ll do anything, conquer any challenge - we can make this life together, Lan Zhan,” and Lan Wangji had just said, “Good bye,” and now, now, Lan Wangji wants to know what Wei Wuxian wants? What gives him the right? What gives him the entitlement? What gives him the audacity?

What makes him think anything Wei Wuxian wants has changed?

But Wei Wuxian can’t say that, can he...?

The silence stretches out between them.

Neither moves.

Neither speaks.

Fireflies flit around them.

Lan Wangji dreads Wei Wuxian answering, dreads him walking away, dreads losing this last precious moment they share, even though the tension of this moment is so awful that Lan Wangji fears it will break him.

“What would you say if...if I said that all I want...is all I’ve ever wanted?” whispers Wei Wuxian, like he’s terrified.

Lan Wangji has no idea why he’s terrified.

Lan Wangji has no idea what he means.

He asks with a raised brow, and Wei Wuxian laughs awkwardly. “Naw, I can’t do the ‘silent Lan act’ right now. Use your words, I’m fucking right out of here, okay?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try.” It’s ludicrously hard, but...for Wei Wuxain, Lan Wangji will always try, always regret that he didn’t try harder when he should have. “I...don’t understand. You say...what you always wanted. A degree. A found family. Your siblings at your side. A pet rabbit. An apartment with a bidet. A signed copy of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.’ There were many things you said you wanted. I’m afraid I’m unclear which you mean.”

“You...you remember all that dumb shit I said back then?” Wei Wuxian sounds astonished. How can Wei Wuxian sound astonished? How can Wei Wuxian believe Lan Wangji would have forgotten a minute of those wonderful days - the best of his life?

“Mn.”

“Well, none of that shit’s what I mean. Got most of it anyway. Bidets are awesome. But Lan Wangj...Lan Zhan...”

His name, said in that sweet voice, causes a tingle to go down Lan Wangji’s spine.

“...all I’ve ever wanted was you.”

Lan Wangji’s jaw drops.

“And you told me to fuck right out of your life when I asked for that, so...fuck, what am I even still doing here?”

“Kissing me.”

“Wha--”

Lan Wangji interrupts Wei Wuxian’s confused exclamation with action - grapping Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and pulling him into a kiss. It’s rude, and inappropriate, and consent - what consent? - and Wei Wuxian doesn’t reciprocate but...oh well. Lan Wangji has already ruined his love life. At least he can have one kiss to remember fondly, to cherish, to--

--and then Wei Wuxian has an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulder, their bodies pressed together, their lips moving as one, and oh, it’s good - glorious - Lan Wangji could weep he’s so happy. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, shifting in the moonlight, lost in their embrace. Lan Wangji is breathless and growing dizzy, but he’s terrified to put space between them - what if this is goodbye? What if it’s just Wei Wuxian flirting, like he flirts with everyone? What if...what if...what if...

But finally, they do part, and scantly, bodies still close, embrace still maintained, faces inches apart.

“What’s going on, Lan Zhan?” asks Wei Wuxian weakly.

“I kissed you.”

“Yeah...got that part...but why...?”

“I know I’ve no right to ask this...but would you try again? With me? With us? Would you--?”

Wei Wuxian is kissing him again before Lan Wangji can finish the question.

Wei Wuxian can’t believe that’s a real question Lan Wangji has to ask - as if Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have taken Lan Wangji back anytime, at the drop of a hat, over the past decade.

(Okay, that’s unfair...Wei Wuxian’s actually been a huge dick about it...he knows Lan Wangji had no independent living, and relied on his family, and Wei Wuxian was just some aimless jackass, and, and, and...but it still stung that Lan Wangji wouldn’t throw all cares to the wind to be with Wei Wuxian, as Wei Wuxian would have done - had done - to be with Lan Wangji.)

But it feels dumb to dwell on that when Lan Wangji is in his arms, kissing him so eagerly, asking if he’ll try again.

Because of fucking course Wei Wuxian will try again.

“I don’t know what that means, Wei Ying,” says Lan Wangji with obvious frustration.

Kiss.

“It means yes,” Wei Wuxian replies.

Kiss.

“Yes?”

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Always?”

Kiss.

“If you’ll have me back...”

Kiss.

“As if I’d ever turn you down!”

Kiss.

“Already did once...”

Kiss.

“And regretted it endlessly.”

Kiss.

“Good. You deserved at least that much suffering.”

Kiss.

“Deserved it, and more.”

Kiss.

“I suppose I’ll forgive you, if...”

Kiss.

“Anything. Just tell me.”

Kiss.

Oh, Wei Wuxian has so many ideas, and he delights in teasing Lan Wangji with each and every one, whispered between husky breaths in to the cooling air, interrupting himself constantly to kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

They’re still making out by the koi pond when Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang come looking for the promised designated driver.

They don’t even consult - or consider interrupting - when they do find the two idiots locked in an embrace. As one, the ladies turn, exchange a silent, smug high-five, and pull out their phones to order Ubers.

They can pay for rides for the Bride and Groom and family members and other drunken party goers.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have a lot of catching up to do.

(and done)

(oops, this got long)

(and yes, this is absolutely a mash up of a modern AU with the lyrics to “Go Back to You” with a healthy dose of the plot of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion.”)

[kevin-the-bruyne]

Here is an excerpt I wrote for my WenZhou arranged marriage AU which lives in my head in bits and pieces

Rated I for Insufferable!Zhou Zishu (actual rating is gen) unedited and unbeta-ed so typos ahoy

-----

Qingya furen has been taken ill!

There’s a flurry of activity. Servants of the Qingya Manor rush back and forth, spreading gossip, preparing ice baths, healing concoctions and soft, easy to digest food.

Everyone knows that Qingya furen has a delicate disposition, he has been ill almost since the minute he has stepped into the manor. Doctor after doctor have been through and failed to provide either a diagnosis or a cure.

With unparalleled beauty and a sweet temperament, almost everyone is greatly taken in by Qingya furen, thoroughly charmed by the soft, low timbre of his voice and the kind set of his eyes. Many are obsessed with the slight curve of his cherry red lips but dare not make such comments in fear of Qingya Master’s wrath.

Qingya Master is a fearsome and ruthless leader, bringing great prosperity to the barren lands of the Ghost Valley through his strength and political prowess. But everyone knows that around Qingya furen he is soft like the center of custard buns.

The servants all fall in line from the pandemonium of a second ago as Gu Xiang comes through, announcing the return of the Qingya Master from a diplomatic mission. The news of his wife’s renewed illness hastens him to their bedchambers, where he finds the object of his affection in a pitiful little lump in the middle of their rather large bed – the site truly does pull at the heart strings!

Qingya furen, Zhou Zishu does his best to sit up, and manages to sit up onto his elbows before his hands start shaking and he falls back down, reaching out one hand affectionately towards Wen Kexing and grasps onto his hand, ‘husband you have returned.’ He says with great sweetness and a light cough.

‘I have returned greatly looking forward to spending more time with my beautiful wife. But alas you seem to have fallen ill…again just as you were before I left.’ Wen Kexing feels Zishu’s forehead - it’s burning up. He sighs and leans down to kiss his wife on the lips.

Before their lips can connect, Zishu turns his head away with a flourish, ‘husband! I dare not – what if it’s the plague?’

‘It’s not the plague,’ Wen Kexing says patiently, ‘you’re always afraid it’s the plague A-Shu, it’s never the plague.’ When Kexing moves to kiss him this time, Zishu rolls entirely away with a pained expression on his face, ‘what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take the utmost care with my husband’s health? Till the doctor comes and makes certain I cannot risk being with you!’

Wen Kexing fights the urge to roll his eyes, his wife is truly cautious to a fault ‘yes, my dear wife. I am grateful to have a wife as considerate as you.’ Though I am yet to get laid since we’ve married. He’s trying to be patient and respect Zishu’s boundaries, but Zishu falls sick oh so very often. Kexing had once passionately declared that he doesn’t mind dying of the plague if it means he could spend one night with his beautiful wife. Zishu had promptly burst into tears, ‘you would curse me to a life of a widow without the warmth of your love!’ Zishu had cried out passionately, zealously spouting off about the sanctity of life and spousal duties for the greater part of the next hour.

Since then Kexing doesn’t argue. Zishu’s affection for him had certainly surprised him. When Kexing had picked him to be his spouse during his visit to the Imperial Capital, he had been fully expecting a cold beauty, maybe even averse to this sort of domestication. Perhaps, he was even looking forward to the chase for they were already married and the outcome was inevitable.

But his wife had surprised him by being pleasant and doting even. His first evening here Zishu had insisted on cooking for his new husband, ‘as the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ Kexing was tempted to point out that one could reach his heart via his cock just fine. However, Kexing didn’t want to be rude and brush off such a sincere request.

But with the unbearable heat within the kitchen and the weather that just didn’t agree with him yet, Zishu had fallen ill that very night, wracked with chills and a worryingly pallid face.

That was the start of this never-ending episode of Zishu’s illness.

Zishu starts coughing again and curls up further under the blanket, eyes drooping and fighting to stay awake.

‘Husband, please eat with me.’ Zishu says burrowing even further into the blanket until he was just a forehead and a pair of eyes, ‘though I am too ill to eat, I will sit with you while you eat.’ Very slowly and with a lot of effort Zishu starts emerging from within the blanket.

Wen Kexing sighs as he stops him, ‘It’s okay A-Shu. Just rest for tonight, I will see you tomorrow when you wake.’ Wen Kexing manages to kiss the top of Zishu’s head this time, now the only visible part of him from underneath the blanket, before taking his leave.

Zishu sighs a breath of relief when he hears the door close and throws the blanket off himself. He rings the bell he was given because the servants of the Manor was afraid that calling for them would be much too much strain for Zishu’s delicate voice. The bell summons the one servant he was allowed to bring with him as part of his dowry, Han Ying.

Han Ying comes in with a tray of tea, would have done so even if Zishu hadn’t rung, and places it on the table near Zishu’s bed, ‘My Lord if I may?’ Zishu takes the tea eagerly sipping on it as he gestures for Han Ying to continue speaking, ‘My Lord, what is your plan exactly? There’s only so long you can poison yourself to avoid Qingya Master.’

Zishu scowls, he really hates it whenever Han Ying decides to choose sense over his blind devotion for Zishu.

[randomingoftherandomness]

Hi, may I ask for Wenzhou married where ZZS is the king and WKX is pregnant with his baby?

A dull throb emanates from the back of his head to the crown of his head. Zishu sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, pressing his head to the palm of his hand as the voices of the morning court meeting rises in pitch and volume. These loudmouthed fogeys who fancy themselves pillars of the nation should just croak already!

His palm itches with the need to draw his blade and slick the tiles of his court with blood. 

“Your Majesty,” Eunuch Tong bows deeply, moving to whisper in his ear. “The Empress is waiting at the royal pavilion.”

His heart that has been burning with annoyance and bloodlust is immediately slaked by the thought of that man waiting for him. Eyeing up the floor where more than a few idiots are still making their case for their respective factions, he huffs. Slamming his hand on his table, he lets the ringing of his displeasure echo through the eaves of the building. 

“Enough,” Zishu says, glaring at each one of his offending ministers until they cow like the insignificant insects that they are. “All you know how to do is to argue in front of us.”

“We beg your mercy!”

“Forgive us, Your Majesty!”

His ministers crawl to their knees, angry voices now curdling into insipid pleas. It coils something dark and amused in his belly. Zishu wonders if he punishes them now, would they dare to rebel in the future? Perhaps the heads he personally mounted on the city walls could do with some new company.

“We tire of your ceaseless chatter,” Zishu declares, standing with a flicking of his sleeves. “Come back to us when you all get your minds in order.”

Eunuch Tong announces his departure and Zishu maintains his steady, dignified pace until he turns two corners, tilting his head slightly at his entourage. “Are we far enough?”

“Answering Your Majesty,” Eunuch Tong smiles, moving his hand to dismiss the maids and junior eunuchs. “Yes, we are.”

“Good,” Zishu laughs, rolling his shoulders and walking quickly towards the moon gate that marks the private perimeter of the royal gardens. Stopping just before he steps through, he clears his throat and instructs, “Make sure the Empress and I are not disturbed for the rest of the afternoon. Understood?”

“This servant obeys.”

It isn't the first time Eunuch Tong has had to supervise the privacy of the royal couple and it most definitely won’t be the last, judging by just how besotted the Emperor is with his Empress. Zishu preens a little as he moves through the dappled shadows of the trees and up the path to where the red and green tiled rooftops of the pavilion by the lotus pond. Each step he takes closer to that place, he feels his burdens slowly shedding themselves off him until he can climb the pale marble steps to his beloved.

Zishu’s Empress elegantly reclines against the pillow. The soft breeze tickles the collar of his robe - an elegant pale blue with embroideries of clouds at its hem - and as Zishu allows his eyes to linger, he can’t help but to sigh, contentedly, at the way his Lao Wen is able to be so relaxed.

Treading carefully, he bypasses the short table of snacks and tea, and takes a cool hand in his, brushing his lips over the back of his palm. With another hand, he slides a worshipful touch over the curve of his beloved’s belly, greeting their baby.

“Oh, you’re here,” Lao Wen says, voice still soft with sleep. Smiling, Zishu gently helps him up and pulls him against him, kissing his brow, his temple, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, before laughingly pressing their happy mouths together. 

“Mm... That bad, huh?” Lao Wen sighs, tilting his head back to receive another thicket of adoration.

Zishu whines, rubbing their cheeks together. “It was horrible. I hate it.”

At this, his beloved curls a cool hand to the corner of his jaw and coxes him back into quiet murmurs of laughter and smiles. They stay tightly wrapped in each others arms, exchanging touches and sweet kisses until Lao Wen sighs and says that his back is beginning to hurt. 

Zishu pulls back, moving to rearrange the pillows and help him sit up. 

“Did the baby give you much problem last night? You were quite restless,” He asks, pulling the dishes towards them and preparing to pour the tea.

Lao Wen playfully slaps his hand away and takes over the task. “No more than usual. Your child was practicing martial arts against my spine,” He huffs, picking up a hazelnut pastry and breaking it in two to share with Zishu.

“Oh, so they’re my child when they’re being naughty?”

“Of course,” Lao Wen says, rubbing his hand on his pregnant belly, savouring the pastry in his mouth. “You have to take responsibility, after all.”

Zishu shakes his head, deeply fond, gently feeding him a cup of tea. 

After a beat, his Empress turns his head and kisses the corner of Zishu’s lips. “Bear with it for a little while longer, hm? Build a strong foundation for this little one and when he’s old enough, let’s leave everything to him and run off to the mountains. Just you and me.”

“And what then?” Zishu playfully follows, wrapping his arms around his Lao Wen. “We live in isolation? Subsisting on ice and snow?”

Cool fingers trail over his cheek. The warmth in those dark eyes sparkle like stars and they draw him in a promise. “Nothing in this world matters as much as my soulmate.”

Zishu leans in, burying his face into the crook of Lao Wen’s neck, breathing deeply. This throne was never meant to be his in the first place and he was only a temporary figurehead; the momentary person in charge of this country until someone far more suitable can take his place. Not that he cares. The burden of the crown was not something he ever wanted. 

Holding on to Lao Wen tightly, he allows himself to rest. Just a few more years until they can appoint their Crown Prince and start training him up for his royal duties. Just a moment more. He just needs to bear this burden for a moment more. “Of course, my Empress,” Zishu says. “I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 3 -

Meng Yao wasn’t supposed to be for sale.

His mother had worked hard her whole life to make sure of it, refusing every offer for him no matter how tempting or how desperate their situation. He was a cultivator’s son, she told him, a sect leader’s; one day, he would return to his father’s side, and if he was going to do that, he couldn’t have his past be marred with scandal. He couldn’t have a slave contract, and he couldn’t have done any work as a whore – it was one thing to do odd jobs in a brothel, but another thing entirely to actually work on your back, and somehow, somehow, someone would find out, and he’d be ruined. They would know.

The only way for him to really make it is if he never did anything like that at all.

So when the cultivator – a real cultivator, from the looks of him, not one of the fakers they often got – walked into their brothel and asked for Meng Yao, his mother said no.

The man frowned, then turned to the owner of the brothel who shrugged, indicating that he was helpless. “The boy doesn’t belong to this establishment,” he said apologetically. “But if the venerated Immortal would prefer something more boyish, I can direct you to some of our more masculine girls, or to a neighboring establishment…”

His voice trailed off when the cultivator pulled out a large chunk of gold, about half the size of Meng Yao’s thumb.

“You can keep it all – if I get the boy, a room, and your word to tell no one else that either of us are here,” the man said.

“No!” Meng Shi exclaimed, but Meng Yao knew from the look on the brothel owner’s eyes that it was too late. This wasn’t a good brothel like the one they’d been in before – the one that had kicked them out when they decided his mother was too old and her health too poor – but a lower tier one, less rich and more desperate. A piece of gold like that was more money than all the girls put together would make in a year.

If they continued to refuse, the owner of the brothel would use force. There were the bully boys at the door – they would grab his mother and drag her away, grab him and throw him into the room, maybe tie him down, rob him of any ability to defend himself…

So Meng Yao put his hand on his mother’s arm. “It’s fine, Mother,” he said to her, hoping to offer comfort where there was none to be had, and then forced himself to smile at the cultivator. “How can this humble one best please the venerated Immortal?”

The man’s eyes flickered between them, and his frown deepened.

“The woman comes with us, same deal,” he told the owner, who nodded, eyes fixed on the gold, and never mind that both Meng Yao and his mother had now frozen in horror. There were women in the brothel who sometimes pretended to be sisters and might even be, it was a popular request by clients, but – his mother… “All right, where’s the room?”

“I’ll give you the best one in the house,” the owner said, tone fawning, and showed them the way.

By the time they were upstairs, Meng Yao was shaking like a leaf and his mother looked on the verge of weeping.

The moment the cultivator closed the door behind them, shooing the owner away, she threw herself onto the floor in front of him. “Venerated Immortal,” she said, begging, and Meng Yao averted his eyes, feeling rage build in the pit of his stomach. “Spare my son, please. I will do anything you wish –”

“You misunderstand,” the cultivator said stiffly. “Your son is safe – as are you. I’m not here for that sort of thing…boy, get her off the floor and seated somewhere, get her something to drink to calm her.”

Meng Yao got his mother into a chair, pressing some wine usually reserved for clients into her hand. By the time he was done with that, he was more puzzled than anything else, even the rage at his mother’s mistreatment fading away into confusion. “What does the venerated Immortal want?” he asked delicately, and the cultivator shrugged.

“I actually have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said frankly. “I received a message from my sect leader that told me to find and secure a ‘Meng Yao, son of Meng Shi’ from Yunping City, and when I asked around it led me to you. I was hoping you could tell me the reason.”

“Your sect leader asked for me?” Meng Yao asked blankly. “By name?”

Could it be – his mother had always said –

“You’re not from Lanling,” his mother said, wiping her eyes, expression back to fierce and calculating. “My boy is the son of the sect leader of Lanling Jin, not…”

She trailed off deliberately.

“Qinghe Nie,” the cultivator said automatically, and even folded his hands in front of him to salute – perfunctorily, but still more than most would bother with for a whore. “The message said only that you were in danger, and that I was to hide you until the sect leader could come pick you up himself.”

So it wasn’t his father, Meng Yao thought, disappointed, but still – a sect leader of a cultivation sect, knowing him by name? Sending a message from far away?

He had no idea what to think of it.

And so they waited, each one sitting awkwardly in their own place, as several shichen passed. It was already evening when there was a knock – at the window.

The window on the third floor.

The cultivator got up and opened it, and a large fierce-looking man carrying three children – one on each hip with an arm around them, and another seated on his shoulders, clutching to his hair like reins – wiggled his way through, shaking all the children off as if his arms were hurting the second his feet were on the ground.

“Is that him?” he asked, nodding at Meng Yao, and the cultivator nodded. “He’s young.”

“Thirteen,” Meng Yao said, and noted that it was probably older than any of the three children who were looking at him in fascination.

“One of Sect Leader Jin’s bastards, Sect Leader,” the cultivator reported, and Meng Yao felt something fall in the pit of his belly at the term one of. There were many like him, then – perhaps his mother’s optimism regarding his reception in Lanling City was as misplaced as her optimism in buying all those pointless cultivation manuals that he slaved over and which accomplished nothing.

“Well, that can’t be the reason, then, or the list would be thrice as long,” the sect leader said, frowning. “I’d even started wondering…no, it still makes no sense. Regardless, no point in waiting around here any longer – I saw two Wen patrols making their way through the city as I flew in, and I have no doubt they’ll find this place soon. We should be gone before they do.”

“If this humble one can ask, what is the honorable Sect Leader’s plans for my son?” Meng Shi asked, ducking her head demurely and looking up at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes, even as she leaned forward a little in a way that set off her shape to its best advantage.

“Oh no,” the sect leader said, and took two full steps backwards. Without the fierce expression on his face, he looked much younger – in fact, Meng Yao thought with wonder and maybe even a little disbelieving amusement, it seemed like this sect leader was most certainly still a teenager, and awkward with it, too. “No, I – I don’t – Gao Jianguo, do something!”

“She’s a whore, Sect Leader,” the cultivator said, rolling his eyes. “They flirt. It happens.”

The sect leader was bright red. The children were all giggling.

“Madame,” he said, bowing to her – an actual bow, respectful, not even the perfunctory dip the cultivator had given earlier, and he didn’t have to call her Madame, either. “Forgive me, I’m not…I don’t have much experience with women. My name is Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Qinghe Nie. I have reason to believe your son is in terrible danger if he remains here, and I intend to take him with me to a safe location.”

“What assurances do I have of his safety?” Meng Shi asked, and Meng Yao knew then that she intended to send him whether he wanted to go or not.

Not that he didn’t intend to go. Such an earnest sect leader, this ‘Nie Mingjue’…even if it was all a mistake or misunderstanding, which had to be what had happened, there were benefits that could be gotten here. If Meng Yao could become a servant there, learn cultivation, he could maybe save up enough to later go to his father’s side – no matter what they asked of him, it would be better than a brothel, especially one where the owner had already seen an indication of Meng Yao’s worth as chattel.

And yet…

“You have my word,” Nie Mingjue assured her.

“I won’t leave without her,” Meng Yao suddenly spoke up, and ignored his mother’s glare. He didn’t want to leave her here. He wouldn’t, not unless he was forced, which seemed likely, but he had to try his best. “If I’m in danger, then so is she. They might want to use her to lure me in.”

“That’s a good point,” Nie Mingjue said, which Meng Yao wasn’t expecting. He even nodded in approval at Meng Yao. “Very well, we’ll take you both with us. Gao Jianguo –”

“The amount I’ve already paid would be sufficient to cover any slave bond,” the cultivator said. His frown suggested he wasn’t happy about his sect leader’s actions. “There will be paperwork –”

“Only for me,” Meng Shi said quickly. “My son is free, and always has been.”

Nie Mingjue looked out the window, clearly calculating – two patrols, Meng Yao thought, this sect leader thought someone was hunting him down for some unknown reason – and then glanced at the two of them. He sighed a little, almost imperceptibly, before firming up his expression once more.

“Take Meng Shi and buy her bond,” he instructed the cultivator. “Collect anything she wants to take with her and take her back to Qinghe through safe routes. I’ll take Meng Yao with me and we’ll meet there.”

“What should I do with the ownership papers? There’s a tax for taking slaves out of the county, and people might notice –”

“Burn them,” Nie Mingjue said, and Meng Yao’s heart gave a sudden thrill of delight. “She can travel as a free woman. Make sure she sees a doctor, if she thinks she would benefit from seeing one, and cover the cost – I want her to arrive at the Unclean Realm alive and well.”

Alive and well, Meng Yao thought, even more delighted. That was a warning, no doubt about it – telling the cultivator not to take advantage of Meng Shi during his trip. And a doctor! With his sect leader ordering it, the cultivator would have to take her to a good one, not some phony sawbones, and she could finally get that cough of hers looked at…

Meng Yao would do whatever this sect leader wanted. Just for that.

(It was more than his father had ever done for them.)

“Can you handle flying with four boys?” the cultivator asked, frowning, and – flying? “Especially if you already came all the way from Qinghe, and through Yunmeng, you must be exhausted –”

“I’ll be fine,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “He’s thirteen; he can stand on his own and hold onto me, arms around my waist, while I hold on to the others…hey, are you afraid of heights?”

That question was directed at Meng Yao.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, aiming for honest. It seemed to be what this sect leader appreciated, and Meng Yao was good at figuring out and catering to people’s likes. He’d have to exert himself especially this time. “But I’ve never gone higher than the fourth floor.”

“Well, you’re about to,” Nie Mingjue said, and his saber unsheathed itself and floated on the floor. “All right, everyone back on – you can introduce yourself in the air. We still have to make the ride back to the Lotus Pier, and I’m sure your parents are worried sick already, Jiang-gongzi.”