#the sword is a tool that we should want to put away as soon as we can

[buttered-toast-and-sentiment]

some LOTR fans apparently: i can't believe Eowyn gave up being a badass warrior to become Faramir's wife and a lame healer, ugh Tolkien being sexist in spite of himself

me: the. war. was. OVER!!!! ????

[derww]

DAY 1: HEARTS

Void hums under his foot. Quartz cage bends towards the ground. Heat of a thousand suns reflects into the indifferent cosmos. He clutches the black needle in his hand.

– I don't belong here, – Subz says. He grabs Deliverance by the blade and hands the handle to Vitalasy. – Kill me.

And Vi looks... confused. In a human way. And then throws po potion at his feet. Subz drinks milk. Vi pales. He's not trying again.

– I won't take it, – he says in a dead voice, – I won't take it.

The last time Subz saw him, Vi's hands were smeared with blood. How did they even end up here?

– Kill me, – Subz repeats. Vitalasy takes Deliverance from his hands only to throw it aside. –  It's okay. You don't need me.

He should have known the consequences, being the one Vi held by hand when they were walking on the air. He should have, because he was the only one who saw how brightly Vi's eyes shone the moment he realized that – at least for one moment – he was standing above everyone else. Subz failed – and was probably doomed to fail.

– Never, – Vitalasy whispers, – we will go through this as always. Together. And in the end, I will give you any world you want.

If they want us to be villains, then let's be the villains, Subz once said, confident that there was nothing that could terrify him. Vi took only a couple of steps to the side to fall. One desire to punish, to demonstrate superiority, to rise so high that he could no longer be touched.

A very small shift, and in response to the attempted trap, he killed everyone there. Because he was a god, and they dared to decide that they could just get rid of him. And then he put Zam in a barrier box. 

"Are you happy with how things turned out?" Zam asked him the only time they met – a disaster with blood-smeared knuckles and faded sighs in 2x1 space. "Are you happy?" he asked again. "Please say yes. Then at least something is as it should be." At that moment, Subz realized that he couldn't handle it.

He sees how Vi plunges a clawed paw into his own chest to extract nineteen stars from it – not so much an intention as a gesture.

– If you're not going to be here, then I'm not going to be here either, – he says evenly. – I will always follow you.

Subz knows: This Vi would not have done this if he had allowed even for a moment that it was a real risk. They could be best friends, but Vitalasy was a god, and Subz was a simple mortal, and Vi could only play games with him. Pretend that the steaks are real. After all, only with equals do you speak on equal terms, and Subz refused.

– You are their god, – he says indifferently, – you can't leave. Otherwise, Spoke will take over this world.

It's not what he thinks. But that's what Vitalasy thinks – that no matter how cruel he is, he will always be the better alternative to Spoke. Vi was not wrong. But somewhere along the way, he almost lost himself.

– Don't leave me, – Vitalasy begs, – Be with me. Stay for me.

He shakes his head.

– My time has come.

Even pulling away from everyone, even running away, even throwing away the communicator, sooner or later the moment comes when the dying world infects even your beautiful garden.

Before becoming a person, a warrior, or a son, Subz became a blacksmith. Before he could read and write, he learned how to forge weapons. Deliverance has never been just his sword. It was made more as a ritual than a practical tool. Needed enough to give your own heart for it.

– Don't do this to me, – Vi asks, and Subz sighs. How soon will he try to put me in a barrier prison too? He thinks. How long will he pretend that I have free will?

Godhood changes you. How can you think about worldly adversities and nuances when divine power allows you to distort the world in the way you want, no matter how stubborn it is?

– Just do it, – Subz says instead of answering. He picks up Deliverance from the floor. – do it, and it's over. I have no more phases of the moon left.

And Vi hugs him – across the body, desperately but carefully, as if he were a statue made of glass. Vi's robes surround him like a cocoon. Subz feels cold.

There was one thing that was true above all else: Subz loved Vitalasy, and Vitalasy loved Subz. They existed for each other and owed nothing to this world. This world used them, this world mutilated them, this world destroyed them. They were within their rights to repay it for this. They had the right to kill them all. And again, and again, and again...

He intuitively easily changes the grip of the deliverance and then plunges it right into the Vi's stomach. The sword pierces him like a knife into butter, denying immortality and untouchability.

Vi does not look scared or angry. He looks... surprised.

– What?... 

Subz plunges the sword even deeper, and then rips it out. Vitalasy falls like a helpless doll on the floor of this sterile, beautiful, indifferent base. 

Ash left him not-quite-right sword this winter. And Subz forged the Deliverance, a blade that does not distinguish between people and gods. It was never intended for Vi.

– I'm sorry, – he says, – I'm really sorry, Vitalasy. I love you. I am so sorry.

– Then... – Vi begins, suffocating, and Subz manages to read the "why" on his rapidly numbing lips. Subz silently shakes his head and strokes Vi's hair, giving him at least a bit of comfort.

Vitalasy freezes. The bubbling hum of the ban rolls through the dead silence of the End. And then his corpse explodes with items – bedrock and barriers, enchanted apples, a pair of speed boots, and assorted potions. There are exactly twenty stars among them. 

Even in their current state, they are drawn to each other, striving to gather in constellations. Subz burns everything except them. He carefully collects the hearts in the palm of his hand and hides them in the enderchest. They continue to beat almost imperceptibly. Subz stares at them in silence. He turns his gaze to the boundless cosmos of the End.

– I'll see you, – he promises, – and I will not fail you ever again.

[gemini-magic17]

Entanglement Chapter Nineteen

It may have been only a week before Ser Easton arrived, but those were some of my life's loneliest days. Even though I had Calyx and the others I still longed for any kind of human interaction. The sound of the waves crashing amongst the rocks by the shore was soothing. It was so soothing that it put Calyx into a relaxed state as he laid his head on my lap.

From the stories I have heard and read about dragons on would think that they are just ferocious as well as destructive. Though from what I've seen they are just misunderstood and don't want to hurt anyone. Dragons may breathe fire and with that people see the harm and damage they could do. Yet, those rulers bound themselves to dragons by blood using magic. A dragon is not a tool or some kind of weapon that should be used for mass destruction against their will. Breaking me out of the rabbit hole my mind was going down I heard Ser Easton's footsteps approaching.

"If someone told me a couple of weeks ago that I would come face to face with a real-life dragon I wouldn't believe them", he said and I turned my head around to face him with a smile.

"I would have said the same thing", at that statement Calyx moved his head off my lap and started to ascend toward the skies. I got up from my current position and walked to him.

"How are you doing today", he asked.

"As good as one can be doing. Am I going to continue to feel like absolute shit about what I did", I asked.

"Don't worry about that. The feeling that you have right now is going to go away with time", he reassured me. I nodded my head and we made our way to the castle.

As we walked that way we stumbled across the golden-colored dragon I had met the day I arrived. The rest of the dragons that take up residence in Dristarya were all used in the Great War. Yet, when it comes to her she wasn't in any of the books. I mean there was no mention of her or a dragon with the same characteristics.

"Still haven't figured out where she came from have you", he questioned.

"No, and I'm starting to wonder if she was even used in the war. There is no mention of her in the books that I have read so far and nothing believes me to think that she was ever involved", I stated.

"Well if that's the case, where did she come from", he asked.

"I have no idea but if I had to guess I would say right here. She must have been hiding in those caves under the castle during that time. Thats the only logical thing I can think of", I said as I turned to look at her.

"That so then she doesn't have a name."

"Your right", I said and looked closely at her sleeping form.

"What are you going to name her then", he asked and it took me a minute before I could come up with the perfect name for her.

"Kylora. Her name will be Kylora."

"Kylora, it is a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a gorgeous dragon", he said with a smile. I returned his smile and we continued our path. We almost reached the castle doors when I stopped in my tracks and along with Ser Easton.

"Princess, what's wrong", he asked looking at me.

"I wanted to know if you would train me again", as I said those words his face of worry turned into one happiness.

"I thought you never ask. I have been waiting for this day to come but I have to ask are you sure you want to get back into this", he asked.

"I'm sure. What happened between my brother and I was a long time ago. My mother is not here to stop me from stopping me from doing something that I love. I know she just wanted to make sure this would never happen again but stopping this together was something she shouldn't have done", I said, and with that Ser Easton made his way inside to grab the swords while I waited outside.

**Ser Easton's POV

Grabbing the swords and making my way back to Y/n mulling over what she had asked of me brought joy. To know that she was ready to train again and that the fear she harbored about this had dissipated. As soon as I reached her I handed her a sword and we then made our descent to the clearing close to the beach.

"I want to ask you one more time before we continue. Are you sure you want to do this", I questioned and at that, she answered with a sly smile. Instead of answering the question she swung her sword at me almost making a slash on my chest as I stepped back.

"You were supposed to wait before I announced the beginning of training."

"You said so yourself when I was growing up that attacks come out of anywhere and your opponent won't wait until you are ready to do so", she said and ducked as my sword came close to the top of her head.

Y/n all of my attacks up until now as I tripped her and she landed on her side dropping her weapon. From what I can recall she still fights the same as she did growing up. However, something small has changed and it was the fire she held in her eyes as she delivered blow by blow.

"Not bad for someone who hasn't trained in over four years would you say", she laughed out of breathe as she laid on the ground.

"You are still somewhat rusty but you fight with such drive it is remarkable from what I have seen then as what I see now", I said extending my hand to her. She took my hand and as I helped her up the smile that came on her face was genuine.

"I guess you could say that recent developments have brought out that drive in me."

"No, it has always been there. It was just now that it decided to be relinquished."

**Kit's POV

The past few days have been hell! A storm had come the fourth day we were on the ship which almost caused it to sink. Boorman has been seasick this whole time which pisses me off. The constant sounds of him heaving and throwing up make me want to throw him overboard. Then of course there is Amara and the bitchness that she throws my way this entire time has been nonstop since we left Tir Asleen. Speak of the devil here she comes with the loud thuds of her boots across the deck.

"What do you want Amara", I said not looking at her.

"I just wanted to let you know what the captain has informed that in less than two days we will be in Dristarya", she said.

"Alright. If that's all go away your giving me a migraine", I said annoyed.

"You know what Kit I hope we do find Y/n not only to bring her home safe and sound. Bringing her home means that we will find out the reason she ran and I'm betting you are that reason. If so then I can't wait to see what her family is going to do to you, especially King Aiden", she said smirking then proceeded to walk towards the ships compartments.

What she had said rang in my head over and over again. I knew deep down that she was right about the fact I was the reason that Y/n left. I just don't understand why she did it after the wedding and not before. It would have made things easier for her she could have gone without any attachment to me. Instead, she waited and part of me couldn't help but think that she saw Jade and I in the armor. I'm just overthinking things she couldn't have seen the kiss that happened between Jade and I, right?

[triforce-of-mischief]

Whumptober Day 12: Red

Cowritten by @batrogers!

Fandoms: Linked Universe, That Broken Promise

Length: long (~2000 words)

AO3

Notes: Legend and Red were separated from the Chain and attempted to navigate an old battlefield at night. Red tripped and cut his arm on a rusty sword, and Legend wrapped it until they found the other group of Links. Their medic Chief was able to extract the shrapnel and clean the wound, but Red ends up needing a tetanus shot. Unfortunately, neither Red nor Chief handle needles well.

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He really didn’t want to stab the kid.

It wasn’t definite, he told himself. Red could recover in a few hours and the threat of illness would be minimal enough that there would not be an urgent need to inoculate him. It was a possibility, one that dwindled away the longer Red lay there, face twisted in silent pain.

Chief nearly stripped a screw on Hateno’s prosthetic, fingers absent with worry. He firmly told himself once again, It’s not definite.

He glanced over at the others, meeting Legend’s eyes first. The teen almost seemed unaware that Far was attempting to initiate a cuddle, except for his wide eyes and the fact that he was indeed leaning against the older man. Chief bit his lip to hide a smile as Far pulled Legend into a full hug, making the veteran relax instantly. It would be tricky to check on Red with Legend being so close, but as long as Legend was at ease, that was a sacrifice that Chief was willing to make. He could work around an extra body.

Legend fell asleep before long, with Red waking up soon after. Chief waited for Far to check in with the kid before he set Hateno’s arm aside and crouched beside them.

Chief’s heart sank when he saw that the wound still practically looked the same under the bandages. Just his luck that their companions didn’t have accelerated healing. He flushed the wound just to be sure, then wrapped it again. Red put on a brave face; Chief wasn’t sure for whose sake it was, but it was sweet.

That didn’t make the looming question any easier.

“Red…” Chief started, quietly, carefully. “You’re healing slower than I expected. It’s more likely that you could get very sick.”

Red visibly wilted, pressing closer to Far. “Oh… well, I still don’t want to get sick but…”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Chief assured him. “…As I said, we don’t have to.”

It would be safer for Red if they did, but it was still his choice.

“What do you think?” Red asked, already resigned.

"I think the disease is a bad one, so anything to escape it is helpful. Even if it's scary now,” Chief explained. "You'll be helpless for a long time if you get sick."

“If you say I should, I can do it. As- as long as it's fast,” Red said with a shiver.

“It will be, I promise.” For Red’s well-being, and his own. Chief had had entirely too much practice ensuring that injections wouldn’t last a second longer than necessary. Red didn’t look entirely comforted, so Chief added, “You don’t have to look at all. And Far will be there the whole time.”

Red didn’t protest, so Chief didn’t waste any time preparing his tools. A syringe with his smallest needle, medicine that prevented rust illness, and a topical something to soothe the pain when he was done.

Gods and spirits help him, he was going to stab the kid.

He swallowed hard, telling himself to stop thinking of it that way. Chief was going to help Red, and the kid would be fine.

They were going to be fine.

Far was talking to Red now, stroking the kid’s hair as his face was buried in the man’s tunic. Chief reached for Red’s arm and gently pushed his sleeve up, gauging if he was distracted enough by Far’s voice. Unfortunately, Red immediately flinched at the touch.

“Don’t wanna…” Red whined, and Far fell silent.

Chief paused there, not pulling away but not doing anything more. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, carefully neutral.

It’s for his own good, but it’s still his choice.

“Yes- no- I have to not be sick, even if it’s scary.” Red shuddered under Chief’s hand as he hiccupped.

"I know,” Chief said softly. "It... helps sometimes if you don't know before I do it. We can just keep talking until it's done, is that okay?”

Red was shaking like a leaf, but Chief saw him give a tiny nod. “Yes, we can try that. Just keep talking…”

Far gave Chief a reassuring smile before launching into another ramble, this time telling Red all about Ordon’s many kids. Red was still somewhat engaged, asking questions and making small, awed sounds.

Chief couldn’t delay any longer. He found the right angle, unimpeded by Far’s and Legend’s arms.

Needle, plunger, out, done.

Red’s voice wavered mid sentence, a keening whimper starting before Chief had even wiped the sting away. The kid was crying again, and it was getting worse as the shock of the moment wore off and he registered what had happened.

Far kissed Red’s hair, whispering praises that Red likely didn’t hear. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s all done. You handled that really well, Red. You’re safe now and it’s over.”

Chief flinched, more than ready to escape the reminder of what he had just done to Red. He gathered his things and left to clean them, but he couldn’t completely leave Red’s sobbing behind. A desperate, piercing wail nearly made Chief lose his composure entirely. He shook his head; he needed to repack his tools before he started crying too.

Or threw up.

Or both.

He relied on muscle memory alone, all but tossing the sanitized tools in his bag to get them out of his sight. He forced himself to check on Red one more time, finding that the kid had only barely calmed down. Legend had woken up too, leaning over to hug Red. Far looked at Chief, clearly agonized that he wasn’t able to hold them all. Chief gave him a small nod before retreating. Red needed Far more than Chief did.

What Chief needed was to process what he had done.

Not counting the chance of illness, Red had been healing. His pain had been fading and he had felt safe.

Safe, until Chief had made something scary sound like the only option. Red had agreed, but it didn’t change the fact that Chief had hurt him all over again. Chief thought that he had done everything he could to reduce Red’s stress, and he had still rendered the kid inconsolable. He wouldn’t blame Red if he hid from him for a few days at the least.

Chief ended up sitting behind a tent on the opposite side of camp. He would have to strain to hear Red’s crying, and was too caught in his own mind to notice Legend sneaking behind him until the veteran was inches away. Chief startled when he finally saw Legend, then sighed and glanced away.

“…I just don’t like hurting him,” Chief mumbled. That was obviously an understatement but he continued bitterly, “I thought you’d heal like us. But you don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Legend said, uncertain. “It’s not easy for any of us.” He sat beside Chief, keeping a careful distance between them.

“Yeah,” Chief said quietly. “"If he's not going to heal within two or three days, he's in danger. Hopefully he’s safe for now.” He hid his face in his hands, “He trusted me.”

Red went through all of that and he could still end up sick.

Legend made a soft noise of protest. “Hey… I don't think he stopped trusting you. You saved him from a lot of pain in the future, right?"

Chief hummed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes against the stars. “It’s hard to believe it. Seeing you both so upset reminds me."

He wondered if Red was still awake and hurting, or if he had finally cried himself to sleep in Far’s arms.

“…I’m just glad Far can't seem to muster fear of anything. Even things he should fear."

“You say it's normal to be afraid of things,” Legend said pointedly. “If Far finds something to be afraid of, he'll get support from his friends. Just like the rest of us."

Easy enough for Legend to say now, when he was barely involved.

Still, Chief laughed weakly and agreed, "You're right. I mean, I think he is afraid- he just doesn't show it. The most upset he was..." He changed his mind and waved it off; now wasn’t the time for that. “He’s alright now,” Chief finished quietly. “…Sorry. You could be sitting in the tent, but I don't want to be around the others right now. Prince just can't sleep with anyone else, nor Kokiri."

“No,” Legend said immediately. “I chose to be here- with you. I’m guessing it's usually Far's job, but he's got Red so…”

"And I'm not as upset as Red,” Chief confirmed, nodding. "Smith could do it. I've seen him at his worst, and he knew I was... avoiding this. He doesn't get it but he does care."

“Oh. I can find him, if- if you need somebody you actually know-”

Chief winced at the veteran’s sudden lack of confidence, and mentally cursed when he glanced over and saw that Legend’s ears were drooping low.

Way to ruin it.

Chief reached over to touch Legend’s hand, cautious since Legend seemed to be avoiding touch so far. "I said that because if you wanted to go, you can. I don’t want you to…” He groaned, frustrated at his inability to explain. “I’m sorry. I'm not trying to be difficult."

Legend adjusted his hand to hold Chief’s, loose enough that either of them could easily pull away. “I said I wanted to be with you, and I meant it."

Chief simply squeezed Legend’s hand, relieved. He was surprised when Legend shifted, pulling Chief into a hesitant hug that Chief happily returned.

“Red’s gonna be okay,” Legend assured him. “You did well.”

“You’re doing well too, you know,” Chief pointed out. Honestly, he would’ve expected Legend to react just as badly as Red had.

“I was asleep and I haven't... been around him for long,” Legend mumbled. “That's all.”


"But you knew it was going to happen and you came over anyway. And you're not upset I'm still wearing the bag." Chief was relaxed in Legend’s arms, half expecting him to tense at the reminder. Not that Chief wanted to scare the veteran… he just deserved to know.

Legend took a deep breath, then hugged Chief closer. “Guess I didn't realize. My mind's been all over the place… I’m okay though. You haven't done anything to make me not trust you.”

Coming from Legend, that meant a lot. “I’m glad.”

“You've been really good with us. We're lucky to have you. All right?"

Chief nodded silent agreement, content to let Legend hug him until Hateno sat by the fire to start breakfast.

~~~

Chief had to check on Red eventually, and he hoped that he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. He had no idea how the kid would react, seeing him again for the first time since the night before. He was prepared for Red to be scared of him, but it would still hurt.

Far noticed him first, as Red was still buried in a hug. Far gave Chief a bright smile, then nudged Red. “Hey kid, Chief’s gonna check on you now.”

Red shifted, blinking up at Chief. He looked better than Chief had thought; his eyes were bright and unclouded by pain, and he certainly wasn’t crying anymore.

“Hi, Red,” Chief said gently as he sat in front of him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Red chirped, still staring at Chief with big eyes.

“That’s good… I hope you’re okay after last night. I’m sorry for hurting you, and scaring you. I-”

Once again, Chief was surprised by a sudden hug. Red launched himself out of Far’s arms, making the man laugh as Red nearly knocked Chief over.

“You helped me!” Red said happily, clinging to Chief. “It was scary but you made me feel better! Thank you!”

Chief held Red tight, taking a minute to find words through pure relief. “You’re very welcome, Red. Now, can I see your arm?”

[sticktopia]

Sticktober Days 12-21

(Sorry for disappearing! It’s been hecktic here. These journal entries should clear everything up)

Day 1

The other day, a strange portal appeared in the garden. At first, we weren't sure what it was. But upon closer inspection, we found that it was a nether portal. It looked weird since it wasn't in the typical “Minecraft artstyle”. But it was here in our world. That should have been impossible considering we don't exist in or around the Minecraft world.

Aster really wanted to go in. He had never seen the nether and wanted to experience it himself. Since I've played minecraft back when I was younger, I knew the dangers that lurked within the dimension. I tried convincing him that going would be dangerous, but then Razz hopped in saying that they wanted to see the nether for themself as well. Soon, all my blossoms decided that they wanted to go to the nether as well.

After a bunch of begging from them, I finally allowed them to enter. But they could only go if they learned the rules of the world and how to craft. It took many days, but they did eventually get their recipes down. Once they were prepared, we entered the portal.

(Little side note, For some reason, when I walked through the portal, my body became my minecraft skin. It was weird being a block person. But I guess I'm used to it at this point.)

I led the other five around the nether. I explained what they didn't understand and stopped them from falling into lava. That was exhausting all on it’s own. What I didn't expect however was that I would be stuck here.

As we made our way back to the portal, we were suddenly attacked by a ghast. I told my blossoms to run to the portal and that I would stay behind and fend off the ghast. They all made it through, thank gods. But the ghast blew up the portal before I could get through. So now I'm here. Stuck in the nether with no tools, armor, or a way back home.

Day 2

I think it’s day two. But I can't be too sure about that. Either way, I'm just glad that i'm still alive. It’s lucky that I've watched a bunch of minecraft letsplays. I probably would have died long ago if I hadn't. Using what i've learned from those videos, i've managed to snag some loot from the bastion. I had a couple gold ingots, a golden sword, and a gold helmet. I've heard that if a player wears some kind of gold, they won't be attacked. So this will definitely come in handy if it doesnt break.

I'm not sure if this is true, but I think if I trade these gold ingots with the piglins enough, they’ll eventually give me obsidian blocks or iron ingots. That’ll surely help me get home. I just need three obsidian blocks and one iron ingot! Well, I also need some flint. But there’s gravel everywhere in the nether. So I think I'll be able to aquire that fast enough!

Day 3

I've been trading with piglins forever! I havent gotten anything useful! Well, that’s a lie. I got five iron nuggets, a few pieces of string, and some leather. I think I can make an iron ingot with the nuggets but i'm not fully sure.

Not only am I not getting useful items, I'm also starving. It’s been a long time since I last ate. But I don't remember what is and is not edible in this blocky underworld. I think Blue said that netherwart is good to eat. In all honestly, netherwart is the VERY LAST thing I even want to put in my mouth. But beggars can't be choosers at this point. It either I die here or I just eat the damn thing. Hopefully I don't die before finding a nether fortress. Cause that’s the only place those things can grow.

Day 4

Finding a nether fortress wasn't as hard as I thought it was. What was hard however was fending off all the hecking mobs. There were so many for absolutely no reason. I just barely got away with my life. My helmet and sword broke. So I guess that means no more trading with Piglins unless I really do want to die.

Besides that fact, I managed to find some netherwart. And GODS ABOVE this thing is NASTY. I don't know how blue could eat-no, CRAVE this thing EVERY SINLGE DAY. Sorry, that was a bit much. But there in no way i can keep eating this. I’ll actually die from poisoning if I keep eating this.

On another note, I wonder if my blossoms are looking for me. Or even trying to figure out a way to open the portal again. I can only pray at this point.

Day 5

I'VE MADE THE DISCOVERY OF A LIFETIME!!!!! The hoglin things, the very demonic boar things that fling you up in the air, those things. THEY DROP FOOD WHEN THEY DIE!!! I'M SAVED!!!!!

I can finally stop eating Blue’s drug fungus! Hallelujah! Maybe it was wrong of me to do this but i literally tossed all the netherwart I gathered into the lava… Blue wouldn't kill me for doing that. I hope.

Anyway!!! I have good food now! I’ll live just a little bit longer! All I need now are weapons! Then I can surely survive till I find a way home!

Day 6

Things are finally starting to look up! I found a piece of obsidian, two diamonds, and a few more gold ingots! My goal now is to find a warped forest biome and make a sword!

Oh yeah! I accidentally killed a piglin earlier as well. And it gave me a crossbow! I don't think i’ll be able to use it since i don't have any arrows but it might come in handy sooner or later. Arrows should exist in the nether i think. I mean, how else are Piglins supposed to use crossbows? Maybe I can check out another piglin chest thing. They always have treasures and loot in those things. So maybe there’ll be some arrows in there!

Do piglins trade arrows too? I can't remember. Maybe i can try trading again. I’ll just use the hole method so they don't attack me.

Day 7

I'm staring to get the hang on the nether now. It’s different from playing behind a screen but it is a lot more fun this way! Well, fun when I'm not being attacked by mobs and almost falling into lava and starving. But I am having fun either way! Maybe I should start playing again. And maybe I can play with my blossoms as well. Assuming they arent traumatized by being attacked.

Aside from that rant, I did manage to trade with the hoglins. I have more iron ingots and bars, a fire resistance potion, and I got a few arrows from their treasure areas as well. I take that as a win. I also found my way to a warped forest! Sadly, I'm kinda stuck in a tree at the moment. I accidentally shot an enderman trying to kill another hoglin. So it’s kinda just screeching at me on the floor. Do endermen eventually give up? Or am I gonna have to kill this dude first?

Ok so I killed him. And he gave me his eye. That was nice of him. Anyway, now that I have wood and sticks, i can finally make myself a diamond sword! More weapons! Maybe I could make myself a sheild but I never learned the recipe to that. Can I activate the recipe book in this form?

Ok so I can't, sadly. If this were the old version of minecraft, I wouldn't need to manually place the items in the box. I miss the old minecraft sometimes. But I must say, this new minecraft is quite entertaining.

Day 8

Ok now I'm bored. I feel like I've been all over the nether at this point. I also feel like i've done everything i can in the nether. I've traded with piglins, stole from bastions, ate netherwart, rode a strider, chopped down a warped tree, and killed a bunch of mobs. Is there anything else to do here other than, ya know, LIVE.

Ah whatever. Maybe I'll be stuck here forever. Future generations will know me as the lost player. I’ll become another minecraft creepypasta or legend. I leave this journal for the next player to read and dissect lore and stuffs. Lore is good. Lore is great. Lore is delicious.

I wonder if the others have held a funeral for me. That would be so funny actually. They hold this big extravagant funeral for me and I just suddenly appear again. They might actually kill me thinking I'm an imposter or maybe a ghost.

Either way. The nether is my home now. I guess I'll have to figure my future out here.

Day 9

The piglins have been agitated lately. I can't understand their language, but I know that theyre very upset about something. I wonder what it is. Maybe they're mad because I keep stealing their things and they don't know who’s taking their stuff. If that is the case, i am very sorry to them. But I need to live. I’d prefer not to die in the minecraft equivilent of hell. Maybe this is a sign. I'm being prepared to face the real underworld because that’s where I'll be going.

Either way, i'm not going to die here. I still have a lot to do with my life. Like take care of my garden, care for my blossoms, finish writing my story, and other things. If I listed them all here I think that would fill the rest of this book. And I can't do that cause then there will be no room for lore. Not only that, I might lose my mind if I don't write something. And we can't let the last bits of my sanity leave me now.

Day 10

Ok so this day has been absolutely CRAZY! Let me explain.

The day started like any other. I was hunting for Hoglins when I was suddenly attacked by a swarm of Piglins! I tried to fight my way out but there were too many of them. I had to take to the trees again. But the freaking Piglins weren’t following the game mechanics! They were like-not like the game! They were climbing on top of each other and trying to get to me. I panicked and started firing arrows at them. I wasted all ym arrows doing that. All I had left was my almost broken sword and a fishing rod.

Thankfully! I remembered how the CG used their fishing rods during our battle royale. So I pulled out the rod and started flinging the piglins off the nearby cliff. But then I accidentally brough a piglin onto the tree with me! It attacked me, knocking me off the tree and into the lava.

Obviously I'm not dead. And that’s cause I took the fire resistance potion! It still hurt falling into the lava, but i'm sure burning alive would hurt a lot more.. Besides that, being on fire with no harm was weird. Anyway, I swam my way out of the lava and sat on the bank. It’s hard moving in lava! It’s like I was in molasses. Well, once I caught my breath, I tried to make my way to my base. But then I was attacked by the piglins again! And I had nowhere to escape this time. I couldn't just hop back into the lava. And I didn't exactly have the resources to fend them all off.

I was quite literally saying my goodbyes in my head when the piglins suddenly started paying attention to something behind them. All of a sudden, the color gang bursted through the army of piglins! It was amazing!!! They were like, kicking ass! I can't beleive we faught them head on.The hollowhead kid came up to me and explained the situation.

Apparently, my blossoms were freaking out about me not making it through the portal. So they emailed themselves to Alan’s PC to ask the Color group for help. That’s good. At least they didn't abandon me.

Anyway, the Color group helped me get to their PC. I turned back into my stick form and was immediately attacked by my blossoms. They promised to never go back into minecraft ever again. Fair enough. But I know that Razz and Aster are the two who won't hold onto that promise.

Well, I'm finally home. After 10 days and 9 nights in Minecraft hell, I’m finally back home. I may not be playing minecraft for a while. But it knows that I'll be back in a few months.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Qui Reponendi Sunt Te Salutant - Part Five

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

The double edge sword of AI and automation means fewer humans needed in the work force.

For dangerous and / or dull jobs this is great:  Let machines do the dirty deadly stuff faster / more efficiently / cheaper than humans.

But AI and automation will chomp into other jobs as well.  How many janitors will it take to clean a building when one person can do it sitting behind a desk, supervising hundreds of remote control mops ala “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”?

The claim AI will create new jobs and occupations, while doubtlessly true, ignores what it will do immediately to the transitional generations, much the same way the Industrial Revolution steamroller hundreds of thousands of artisans and skilled laborers into a newer, more compact workforce.

Automations are the ultimate labor force:  Once past the initial investment, there’s only a small cost in upkeep and energy supply, yet they can work 24 / 365 without tiring or taking breaks.

Best of all, when they become outmoded, they can be disassembled and recycled. 

Try doing that with a bagger at a supermarket.

Herein lays the paradox and challenge:

Humans want the luxury to pursue their own interests; even if they choose to pursue dangerous / difficult things. They want to do so of their own free choice.

AI and automation can provide the labor needed to keep a society functioning, thus giving millions, perhaps billions more than enough time and necessary basic needs to follow personal pursuits.

If everyone enjoys the luxury of freedom from labor, there is no status in being able to afford such luxury.

If there are millions, perhaps billions of people with no ostensible purpose other than their own satisfaction, why encourage continued population growth since it will only continue to put strains on both the economic and ecological systems?

Why then encourage mass consumerism the way capitalism has for the last three hundred years?

If there is not only no need for mass consumerism but rather a host of rational reasons to discourage it, why should capitalism continue to be the economic model for humanity?

Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of years ago our ancient ancestors looked at the moon and tried to reach it by climbing the highest trees they could find.

Later, when they built simple tools and the rudiments of civilization, they tried with towers, or by epic journeys atop the highest mountains or over the horizon to see where the moon went.

Eventually humanity came to understand that the moon lay beyond our conventional reach, that none of the old ideas for reaching it could ever possibly work.

Soon other ideas for reaching it sprang forth; bottles of dew strapped to one’s body, balloons, giant cannons, aeroplanes, event rockets, as small and as impractical as they were.

But we developed the rockets, and they became larger, more reliable, and eventually they took us to the moon.

From the 1840s, the idea of a communist society, one where social classes and money no longer existed, where the state withered away, has circulated.

In those days, and in Marx’ time, and in Soviet Russia and the Iron Curtain nations, it was the tree we sought to climb to reach a seemingly unobtainable goal.

With the failures of those efforts, capitalists laughed, claiming it was impossible to reach those heights and that we were fools to even try instead of rooting around in the mud and filth like them.

AI and automation may be our rockets.  Already AI programs manage money accounts better than humans.  Without the false need to make profit for the few at the expense of the many, they may usher in that long sought age.

The danger between now and then is that those on the top, seeing one last expense to cut loose, might deem it personally reasonable to hasten the reduction of the human species by direct means.

The future stares us in the face.

Don’t blink.

© Buzz Dixon

[cainluvr69]

A Dream Of Helio Upon The Glinting Blade Chapter 5

Previous Chapter

Having had those words splashed over him like cold water, Hector frowned at Owen, but Owen's smile only widened.

Owen: ...What did you just say?

Hector: I--I mean, um... You don't need to say things like that when other people are having a nice conversation together...

Owen: Hmm. So, would you rather I tell you that you'll be able to grant your wish someday? You sure love lies a lot for someone who wants to be a knight.

Cain: Owen, quit it. Hector, you too. Just ignore him. More important is the match you need to be focusing on.

Hector: B--but...

Owen narrowed his eyes as he stared at Hector, his laugh little more than a whisper.

Owen: Haha... Big words, coming from someone who couldn't even draw his sword against me before fainting. Ah, that's right. You must be feeling more confident since Sir Cain is here. No matter what happens, he'll protect you, after all. Well, your precious Sir Cain is still way weaker than me, though.

Hector: ...! Bastard...!

Cain: Owen, I told you to knock it off! Hector, you need to calm down, too...!

Oz: ...Owen.

With the shining sun at his back, Oz said Owen's name in a low voice. At some point, his magical tool had once again appeared in his hand. Owen looked from him, to Hector and the hand on the hilt of his sword, and to Cain, who was trying to stop the two of them. And then he drew back.

Owen: Haha...so sorry. I was just trying to teach you a little bit about reality, but it looks like I got a little carried away.

Hector: Just try and insult Sir Cain any more, and I'm going to...!!

Cain: Hector! You should be able to handle this. You're just playing into his hands right now.

Hector: But...!!

Hector's words caught in his chest. His cheeks were red with anger, and he turned to look at Cain, the person holding him back.

Hector: Sir Cain, why are you with someone like this?! Even if you're both the Sage's wizards...!

Cain: It's because we're both the Sage's wizards. He and I both share the same obligation to save the world.

Cain was speaking gently, trying to make Hector understand. He looked into Hector's eyes, orange as flame.

Cain: The <Great Calamity> will most certainly descend on us again. My own feelings don't play into it. And until it does, I need to remain strong. With a change in government or the tides of war, the enemy you fought yesterday might become an ally today. It's the same as that.

Hector: ...

Hector did not nod his head. I wonder if the reason he didn't was because he was too sincere to. Understanding something and agreeing with it are two different things, after all. Someone he loved was allying with the enemy he hated. Even if the person he loved didn't mind, it wasn't something he could accept just like that. Hector's eyes were downcast. Lennox gently put a hand on his shoulder.

Lennox: To be angry on someone else's behalf is proof of your bravery. You've got a lot of promise, Hector.

Hector: ... N-no, I...

Lennox: More to the point, it looks like the matches will be starting soon. Before they do, would you mind letting Mitile see your sword?

Hector: My sword?

Mitile: Ah... Y--yeah! I saw Cain's sword earlier too, and it's super cool.

Murr: I wanna see it too~!

Akira: Me too, please!

They were trying to help change Hector's mood by changing the subject, so I joined in with as bright a voice as I could manage. Maybe he could tell what we were doing, because he took a deep breath and then turned a big smile on us.

Hector: Of course, that's just fine. But this is just the one I was using for training purposes, it's not the one I'll be using during the exam.

He pulled out a sword, still in its sheath, from where he'd placed his things.

Hector: This is what I'm going to be using for the real thing. Doesn't it look like Sir Cain's sword?

A mere glance was all it took for Faust and Oz's eyes to widen. Murr blinked at it in surprise. Even Owen glanced over it, his interest sparked.

Akira: (I wonder what's wrong...? It doesn't look like anything's wrong with it...)

Mitile: It really does look like his! The hilt seems like an exact match to me.

Hector: Right, right! I found it in a shop in the capital a little after Sir Cain left the knights, and I ended up buying it without thinking.

Cain: Oh, if you got it that long ago, I bet you've gotten pretty good with it. It must've taken you a lot of practice.

Hector: Ehehe, yeah! But...the last time I drew it, it was during the latest <Great Calamity>. As the moon fell closer and closer, things in the town started getting bad. And since Sir Cain was fighting for the sake of the world... But unlike Sir Cain, I couldn't do anything, with or without a sword. I want to be like him so much, and yet... And so I haven't used this sword ever since, so that I could make a prayer.

Akira: A prayer?

Hector: Yes! In the hopes of winning at today's swordsmanship exam and becoming a strong, gallant knight, just like Sir Cain. That's why I'm finally using this sword again. If this sword can securely grant my dream of becoming a knight, then I'm going to make it the one I use from now on.

Chloe: You've wished for it with your whole entire heart. I'm sure your dream will come true!

Lennox: Yeah, we're rooting for you.

Owen: ...Fufu. I'll be praying for your hard-fought battles, too.

Owen's blood-red eye narrowed as he smiled at Hector's sword. His encouraging words were just the opposite, leaving behind an ominous air as Owen wiped his presence, vanishing into thin air.

Hector: Wh--what's with that guy... What did he mean about praying for me...

Faust: ...Hector, a moment. Would you mind letting us see that sword you're planning on using for the exam? We'd like to examine it a bit with magic.

Hector: Examine...? You mean, this sword?

Faust: Yeah. We've been feeling some kind of weird presence since we got here, and...it's looking like it's coming from that sword.

Akira: Huh...?!

Oz: It's faint, but I can sense the <Great Calamity> on this. I believe it's had some sort of influence on the blade.

Hector: B--but...

He was obviously shaken--anyone would be, being told that there was something strange about their favorite sword. Hector hugged the sword to his chest, as if trying to protect it. Cain put a hand on his back, trying to support him both literally and emotionally.

Cain: Hector, let them check it out. I'd hate it just as much as you would if such an important exam got ruined by the Calamity's interference. It's not a major kind of issue, so we can get it all fixed up before the matches start. So, if you'll just hand it over...

Hector: Don't touch it!

Cain had reached out to touch the sword. Hector shouted at him, his voice startled and sharp. A confused silence fell. The blue sky clouded over to grey, a sudden chill blowing in on the wind.

Akira: H...Hector? Is something wrong?

The moment I timidly spoke up, Hector's eyes widened, as if he'd suddenly awoken from a dream. And the next moment, all the color drained out of his face.

Hector: I--I'm so sorry, Sir Cain! I just...

His head snapped down in apology, and at the same moment, a bell rang three times. Hector gasped, and his head snapped back up.

Hector: Ack, that's the bell for the participants to gather up... Sorry, I, I need to go! I'm so sorry about earlier!

Mitile: Hector, wai... He's gone...

Akira: What happened to him? It was like his whole personality just changed...

Lennox: That was likely the sword's influence. Should I go after him?

Faust: No, we should just observe for now. We could force it away from him, but it would affect his mind if we did that.

Cain: That's an issue... A troubled heart leads to troubled swordsmanship. I don't want to upset him even more right before an important match like this. Just to double check, but for now, that sword shouldn't be a major issue, right?

Murr: Probably! Things were doing fine up until you tried to touch it, so.

Akira: In that case... I'd also prefer to wait until after his match. Is everyone okay with that?

Chloe: He did work so hard to make it here. Once his match is over, we'll get Hector to show us that sword again!

We nodded at Chloe's words. From the top of one of the spires, the band trumpet blew a valiant tune. A glorious beginning for the swordsmanship exam.

✦✧☾✧✦

Page Boy: Haaaah!

Page Boy: Uwagh?!

Referee: And stop!

Audience: Great match, you two!

Audience: You did your best!

Both winner and loser received equal amounts of cheers and applause. Just a step away, divided by the boundary between blocks, harsh sounds of combat rang out. There were a lot of participants in the swordsmanship exam. Like in a big sports tournament, there were multiple blocks separated out, with several matches happening at the same time. We were waiting by the block Hector was supposed to show at, cheering on the other participants.

Chloe: That blonde kid who won there was super agile!

Lennox: But the tall one that lost had some good moves, too. I'm sure he'll only improve from here.

Mitile: It was an amazing match...! Cain, were you watching?

Cain: Yep! Both of them were in the group of people who high fived me earlier. I was pretty surprised when Murr yelled all of a sudden about how anyone who touches my hand is going to get blessed by the goddess of victory, but it ended up really helping me out.

Murr: You're welcome~! I wasn't expecting that long of a line though!

Akira: I'm pretty sure some people who weren't even participants got in line, too. Like active duty knight-looking people...and a few grandmas...

While we chatted about this and that, Faust looked around the exam grounds.

Faust: ...Next is Hector's match.

Oz: ...

Akira: Is something wrong, Oz?

Oz: ...The magical presence is stronger now. Not by much, but stronger.

Akira: Er, which means that…

Murr: Hector's coming this way!

Next Chapter

[robininthelabyrinth]

Beautifully Spent

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

- Chapter 2 -

A/N: As a note, each of these chapters is a separate story with a different point of divergence from canon timeline.

When Lan Wangji was six years old, and Lan Xichen nine, their mother died, breaking their hearts. Even Lan Qiren, who had never liked He Kexin and might have even hated her for having ruined all his dreams of travel, felt her absence keenly – he kept thinking of her at odd times, a matter of irrepressible habit. I should tell her about this next week, he would think as he watched his nephews accomplish something, or, upon receiving an offer to go night-hunting, We can’t go because we wouldn’t be able to make it back in time for the monthly visit, and then he’d abruptly remember she was dead and there would be no more monthly visits.

One time, sitting and watching Lan Wangji carefully practice his calligraphy during the time that would normally have been their monthly visit, he even found himself inexplicably wiping tears out of his eyes. It had been a struggle, but they’d finally gotten Lan Wangji to stop going to her door, ignoring snow and chill to wait there as if simply willing it would allow the door to open again, but he remained overly quiet, even quieter than he’d been before, the loss hurting him deeply, and seeing him hurt had hurt Lan Qiren. He tried to be subtle about it, to hide his abrupt display of emotionality, but before he knew it, Lan Wangji had come over to stand by his side, his little hands holding his own, earnestly mumbling, “Don’t cry, shufu, it’ll be all right” in an echo of what Lan Qiren had been trying so ineffectually to say to him.

“Yes,” he said, wiping harder, and ultimately giving up entirely and letting the tears stream down his cheeks, hiding his face entirely behind one of his sleeves. Lan Xichen found them at some point and curled up into Lan Qiren’s other side, tears starting to slowly seep down his own face; trying to hold back their strange shared grief was like trying to stop the tide. “It will be all right, eventually. I promise.”

He had made that promise too soon, it seemed: less than a week later, one of the elders remarked that it was time for Lan Xichen to take up some of the duties of running a sect.

“What?” Lan Qiren asked, blinking. “You’re joking. He’s nine.”

“He’s the future sect leader,” the elder said, and his gaze was cold. “Never forget, Teacher Lan, that although you fill the role now, you are only a custodian in his name.”

“That’s not the point I was making,” Lan Qiren said, frustrated; he had never been very good with words or with people. “Of course he will inherit the position, given time. But he is not even old enough for his own sword, and years away from night-hunting – why would you burden him with sect business? He’s far too young.”

“He is at exactly the right age to begin. How else can we ensure that he will not fall into the failings of his father or the crimes of his mother?”

“He is a child,” Lan Qiren stressed, wondering what he was missing. “We can only teach him to the best of our abilities, and hope that he does well with it; there’s nothing else that can be done.”

The elder shook his head. “We cannot take the risk of another generation of disaster. He must be trained, and trained now, trained well. If we do not take action, it may be too late, and he will be ruined.”

As you were, he didn’t say, but Lan Qiren felt keenly the burn of humiliation. He had never lived up to their expectations the way his brother had, and then his brother had gone and failed them all, too.

“What exactly are you thinking?” he asked, trying to dismiss the feeling of foreboding in his belly. An introduction to the burdens Lan Xichen would eventually face would not be so far amiss – a shichen a week of helping to transcribe simple letters, perhaps, or running errands, the sort of thing a boy could do and not be bored; that wouldn’t be too bad.

That wasn’t what they had in mind at all.

They wanted Lan Xichen to start tackling political problems at once, forcing him to make real decisions, deal with paperwork, and then also three times the usual lessons in sword and music, all the skills he would need to have. And all this, of course, on top of his regular lessons –

“We can assist, of course,” one of the elders said to the others, ignoring Lan Qiren’s aghast expression entirely. “But the sooner he grows accustomed to the work, the sooner he can step up –”

“You’ll crush him!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, interrupting, and he never interrupted the elders. “He’s a child, and a child who just lost his mother at that – how can you even suggest this? He would have no time to study in depth rather than shallowly, no time to think, to become his own person –”

“We will polish him into a perfect jade,” an elder said. “Him, and the younger one, too. What more do they need than to be of service to the sect?”

It wasn’t that Lan Qiren disagreed that service to their sect was the highest good, or that scholarly and martial pursuits were of the highest caliber, far more important than aimless play. He was a teacher, a strict one, and the sect rules accorded with his understanding: Learning comes first. But at the same time, there was learning and then there was learning – he was a teacher who cared for his students’ well-being, too. He knew that the approach proposed would not polish Lan Xichen into a jade but mold him instead, brutally pruning away any part of him that did not accord with the elders’ wishes.

It was just what they’d done to Lan Qiren the moment he became acting sect leader, after all.

They’d loaded him up with responsibilities until he’d nearly worked himself sick, refused to grant him the slightest freedom to travel even in a small and supervised manner, and they’d tried to force him to recant even those few things he did enjoy – composing music, teaching children. If he hadn’t already been as old as he was when it started, he wouldn’t have had the strength of will or determination to preserve even those few little things of his own…

“He should move into the hanshi soon,” another elder agreed. “If we expect him to take on the responsibilities of an adult, he should be treated as one.”

“Agreed. The sooner he disengages from messing around with his peers, the better. They will only distract him from what he needs to do.”

“I do not agree with this,” Lan Qiren said. “I am his guardian and his teacher. I do not agree.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Qiren,” one of the elders said, and Lan Qiren felt an automatic wash of shame, instinctive and ingrained after all these years. “You took the sect leader position with the knowledge that it would not truly be yours, and now you wish to preserve your personal power longer?”

I never wanted the position, which offers only power in exchange for its brutal demands! I still don’t want it! But to put it onto a child, any child, much less my own nephew who I love – how could I agree to that?

“You must not be selfish, as your brother was,” another elder scolded him, and normally Lan Qiren would be the first to agree. Being like his brother was his worst fear, and one he would do anything to avoid – but at the moment, the reminder felt wrong, as if they were using it as a tool to manipulate him rather than expressing what they really thought. “Do not cling to power and authority, after all. You cannot and must not steal what belongs to your nephews, Qiren. Never forget your place.”

Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. His place?

He had never been selfish. He had sacrificed everything – he had been filial and loyal, obedient to his elders, and they had taken everything from him, just as they planned to do to the two children that had been entrusted to his care. The only difference was that Lan Qiren had been allowed to live freely for a little while, and even that freedom was only because the elders had utterly ignored him in favor of his more talented brother, who had been protected by the love of his powerful father; for his nephews, who were all but orphaned and left only in his inferior care, there was no such defense.

This time, it was clear that the elders meant to rectify the situation – this time, they wouldn’t even leave Lan Wangji his childhood, let alone Lan Xichen.

They would hollow them out and leave them as little more than puppets, blindly obeying the rules without having the time to contemplate their meaning. They would squeeze out every moment of every day, turning each endless shichen into a joyless burden, transforming the rules into little more than a yoke to chain them – his nephews wouldn’t be Lan, who chose willingly to obey because they loved the rules and loved their sect and wanted to give everything for it. They would be little better than slaves.

Perhaps, Lan Qiren thought suddenly, it was not his selfishness that the elders were constantly seeking to correct. Perhaps it was their own.

He tried, first and foremost, to argue with them, but they did not listen to him. They had never listened to him, not from the first moment he had yielded to their wishes over his own desires and allowed himself to be trapped in the Cloud Recesses as the new sect leader. No – it was even older than that, from even before then, from as far back as when he had been small and helpless and crying out for help in his own way, not even knowing what was happening to him and why…

They had always turned their faces away.

Lan Qiren had tried his best to please them, and had failed. He’d thought the blame lay with him, but now he wasn’t so sure – now he thought that it didn’t matter what he did, that he never would.

Lan Qiren’s nephews were the ones who were small and helpless now, and unlike the elders that should have watched over him, he would not turn away.

The plan he hatched was ruthless in the extreme, but there was nothing else he could think of in his desperation. The Lan sect had always been very secretive, in its own way, keeping outsiders from knowing their personal business; although everyone within the sect knew that it was the elders who held all the real power, even if they disdained the work of it and left much of that for Lan Qiren to accomplish, from the outside it appeared as though Lan Qiren were sect leader, invested with all the powers of one.

To be a sect leader, in their day and age, was to be a tyrant.

No need to look at Wen Ruohan, the chief example of this trend, a man who made his sect kneel and touch their heads to the floor upon hearing that he was coming. It was enough to look instead at the Jiang sect, whose sect leader Jiang Fengmian whiled away his days waiting for his old lover to write, ignoring his wife despite her maternal family’s power and influence within his territory. Look at the Jin sect, where Jin Guangshan bedded every prostitute and poor young lady within range, surrounded by a cloud of rumors regarding whether he’d bothered to get all of them to consent – rumors there might be, but no one dared to make any trouble for him over it without actual proof. Look at Lao Nie, whose sect, elders and all, sighed and shook their heads over his excessive fondness for dangerous people, but could take no action to stop him.

Look at Lan Qiren’s father, who had spoiled one child into madness and neglected the other into near despair, and had trained his whole sect to accept it as a given. Lan Qiren was working to repair that damage, to lead by example, but it was a hard upward struggle – rot might start at the head, and healing, too, but the healing was harder than the rotting.

A sect leader, in short, was a tyrant.

And as far as the world was concerned, Lan Qiren was the sect leader.

Lan Qiren bided his time until the next discussion conference. It hurt him to wait, seeing poor Lan Xichen get stretched thin under his new duties and constantly reminded to keep a serene smile on his face throughout, seeing poor Lan Wangji so stressed at his brother’s misery and his own amplified lessons that he'd started biting people again, but he knew it was necessary. A discussion conference meant outsiders, and outsiders meant not losing face; it was the one time that Lan Qiren was actually treated as a sect leader by all around him, the one time no one would gainsay anything he said, even if they would later tear strips off of him in private.

It was his only chance.

"I have an announcement," he said mildly, presiding over the large gathering that marked the conclusion of the discussion conference. His Lan sect was the host of this conference, and he was accordingly seated at the head of the room, equal with the other Great Sects but given additional deference in view of the location - it was easy for his voice to carry, despite his quiet tone, and all the sects turned towards him to listen. They were probably expecting something anodyne, some additional prize or information about the weather to keep in mind as they departed. "I have decided that my Lan sect's ties to the rest of the cultivation world have grown stale, seeing each other as we do only at these times and the common people only on night hunts. As a result, in my authority as Sect Leader Lan, I intend to make a journey throughout the various sects, taking along my nephews to introduce them to your families. In my absence, the Cloud Recesses will be managed by my cousin, Lan Yueheng -"

Talk exploded in the whole audience, furious and loud, all but his own Lan sect which was calm and stone-faced as always, though of course that was only their pride and concern for face overwhelming their shock. Poor Lan Yueheng was the exception, of course, his jaw dropping open like a weight dropped from a great height until his neighbors noticed and elbowed him in the side to make him stop - Lan Qiren mentally apologized for not having warned his cousin up front. He hadn't dared to risk it. 

" - and accordingly I will be leaving alongside the rest of you at the conclusion of this conference," he concluded, for once relieved that his voice never varied far from a monotone; he sounded cool and calm and in control, and like he hadn't noticed the way his sect elders were trying to strangle him with their gaze even as the maintained decorum. "Our first destination is the Nie sect's Unclean Realm, with Lao Nie as our host."

Lan Qiren hadn't warned Lao Nie, either, but he knew him well, and to his relief hadn't misjudged him - the other man didn't spare so much as a moment to blink in surprise, instead grinning broadly at the other sect leaders.

"You bet you are," he laughed, his voice booming and loud. "And don't think I'll let you leave so quickly, Qiren - not until your nephews are best friends with my sons, and not until you've had a chance to work your magic on my sect's younger generation and turn them from little beasts into proper gentlemen!"

Lan Qiren barely resisted rolling his eyes - he still didn't know who it was that had come up with the nonsense about him being able to turn the most hopeless waste into a gentleman, but it was rank exaggeration. But to his surprise, the first person to respond was the head of one of the more distant small sects, Baling Ouyang, a young man with an excitable temperament; he leapt up to his feet and exclaimed, "Will he really? Sect Leader Lan, I insist you visit my Ouyang sect next, if you haven't made firm plans - I scarcely recognized my little hellion nephews after a season in your care, all grown up, careful in thought and action, compassionate and upright...and no more pranks!"

Another exaggeration. The Ouyang twins had been troublesome only at the start, until Lan Qiren realized that what they longed for most was recognition as separate beings rather than a collective whole; as soon as he'd treated them with respect, and showed them how to act in return, they'd taken to his lessons like a desert to water. 

"Sect Leader Lan's skill in teaching is very well known," Sect Leader Yao said, always first to speak after his friend from the Ouyang sect. "You'll really come to our sects to do it, rather than our children to the Cloud Recesses? And you won't charge, of course...?"

"Naturally no," Lan Qiren said, a little puzzled by their enthusiasm. Was it so expensive to send children to the Cloud Recesses? He’d never charged for his lessons, although he supposed there was the cost of travel and maintenance to the standard preferred by students, and of course guest gifts were customary, although he never made any demands. "I would be your guest, and enjoying your hospitality – room and board would be more than sufficient…"

"In that case, you should come to Pingyang next -"

"No, Yueyang!" someone else called, and before Lan Qiren knew exactly what was happening, the sect leaders were arguing over who he should visit first. The most enthusiastic were the ones whose children he had taught already, but the others were quick to catch up, loathe to miss out on what they perceived to be a good deal - even Wen Ruohan, never one to lose out to others when it came to something perceived of as desirable, extended an offer with a smug, snake-like smile. 

Lan Qiren provisionally accepted all the offers with a growing sense of relief: with such public acceptance, the Lan sect would lose more face by refusing to let him go than in allowing his unorthodox action. It was just as he has hoped, and more successful than he'd dared to dream; the other sects had fixated on his teaching skills and in doing so had ignored the strangeness of a sect leader taking his heirs and all but running away from home. 

That relief carried him through to the end of the meeting, when everyone divided up to pack up their things, and Lan Qiren returned to the inner parts of his sect to do the same.

"What are you thinking?" one of the elders demanded the second they were alone. "Have you gone mad?"

"Did you see the reception of my idea?" Lan Qiren replied, hiding the giddiness of relief under a facade of calm. "The sect will benefit greatly from the connections we will make."

"That's no answer!"

Lan Qiren was a filial child; even if they were wrong, he would not tell the elders so to their faces. Instead he only bowed deeply and said, "What's done is done. I need to get ready, and quickly; it would be embarrassing if we weren't prepared."

Of course, he'd already packed everything he thought he'd need, determined to take Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji with him no matter what - it was only luck that his plan had worked as well as it had, allowing him to pretend to some move of subtle strategic genius rather than a retreat out of desperation. Still, he needed to go through the motions.

"Fine," another elder spat out, although their demeanor made it clear that it wasn't fine at all. "But did you have to announce that the provisional leader was Lan Yueheng? He's completely unfit!"

By which they meant that he wouldn't listen to them - that he was brash and lacked tact, said what he thought and cared for nothing but his experiments, his wife, and his children. Out of all of Lan Qiren’s cousins, he was the most thick-faced, shameless to the extreme, essentially immune to criticism or guilt. 

That was, of course, exactly why Lan Qiren had picked him.

"He's good at math and accounting, and at arranging provisioning," Lan Qiren said, picking the more acceptable reason. "That's the key responsibility left over, isn't it? Everything else, I can do through correspondence."

The reassurance that Lan Qiren would still be doing his duty to the sect - would still be accountable to them - helped settle some ruffled feathers. It wouldn't be pleasant to try to do the work of sect leader from abroad, Lan Qiren knew; it would mean a lot of sleepless nights slaving away by candlelight, with no support from any aides, bearing all the weight himself. No doubt the elders knew it too, and figured that he'd soon enough lose interest in what he heard them calling, in hushed voices where they thought he could not hear, his "little show of rebellion".

Lan Qiren didn't care. The sooner they left, the better the chances that the elders would continue to be deceived into thinking that Lan Qiren was doing all this for his own sake - some last stab at achieving his long forgotten dreams, doomed to inevitable disappointment - instead of what it really was, which was freedom for his nephews. They couldn't be assigned work or classes from a distance; their education would be wholly in Lan Qiren’s hands.

He'd take a thousand sleepless nights of overwork if it meant they got to be children a little longer.

"Are we really going to the Unclean Realm?" Lan Wangji lisped, looking even more rosy-cheeked and excited than usual. "Will – will Nie-gongzi will be there?"

"Yes, Mingjue-xiong will be there," Lan Xichen said, and grinned at Lan Qiren over his brother’s head. He looked more carefree than he had in...possibly years, and Lan Qiren briefly regretted how long it had taken him to do this. "Since you like him so much."

Lan Wangji turned bright red at once.

"Both of the Nie boys will be there," Lan Qiren said. "The younger one is closer to your age, Wangji. You can get to know him as well."

Lan Qiren went next to the library pavilion, looking for books on their sect rules - he might not trust his sect elders, but he loved his sect, loved their rules and traditions, and he wanted his nephews to love it, too. He wanted them to see the Cloud Recesses as a refuge, as a haven - not a burden.

He would give his nephews the freedom he'd longed for, and when they were older...when they were older, more resilient, more sure of who they were, he would bring them back and he would ensure that they obtained their rightful inheritance. In full, not in part - Lan Xichen would be a real sect leader, not a puppet for the elders, taught only to be pleasant and yielding and to perform well with his cultivation, swordsmanship and music only for the purpose of impressing outsiders. Lan Wangji would be his brother’s right hand, would love and respect him and be loved and respected in turn.

Maybe, Lan Qiren thought to himself, amused, they would even find some compatible child on their way and one day return to bring them home as a dao companion.

He couldn't wait to find out.

[powdermelonkeg]

Secrets in the Breeze

"What do you think it is?"

Several sets of eyes fell on the tablet Hyrule had unearthed, pondering its use. Legend studied the pattern critically. "Hmm..." He reached down and wiped away some dirt. "...It looks like song magic."

"Those aren't notes I recognize..." Sky said with a frown. “Are you sure?”

“No. But that’s my best guess until I can study it better.”

Hyrule reached for his recorder. “Well, we can find out pretty quickly, right?”

Time held out a hand to stop him. He gave the strange tablet a thoughtful look. "...Everyone, stand back."

The other four in the hunting party quickly gave him distance as he pulled out his indigo ocarina. The marks looked a little different, but...Drawing in a breath, he lifted the instrument to his lips.

The other heroes watched in anticipation.

...Silence.

Time frowned, glancing around the area. “...Did anyone notice anything happening?”

“I don’t think so.” Wild paused, peering at the sky outside the cavern. “Not unless you have a song for causing rain.”

“I do. This isn’t it.”

“Wait, really?”

Time offered a small smile. “A conversation for another time. Let’s get back before the others decide to come looking for us.”

“Do you think they decided to cook something themselves?” Hyrule asked, grabbing his game bag.

Sky scrunched up his nose. “Goddess, I hope not. I can still taste that...reekfish thing.”

Wild raised his hand. “I liked it.”

“You eat rocks. You don’t get to judge what tastes good.”

As the others went ahead, Legend glanced back at the strange tablet. After a moment’s consideration, he wrenched it free of the earth and tucked it under his arm.

It needed to be studied further.

“There you are!” Warriors exclaimed, halfway through putting up the oil tarp for the rain. “We were just about to get a search party ready.”

“He means he was about to go running off after you,” Twilight said, giving his well-polished counterpart a side-eye, then shook his head. “Anyways, we’re all hungry. What took you?”

Hyrule rubbed the back of his head. “Secret cave.” He gave a nod to Wild. “He spotted some fragile rocks and wanted to blow them up.”

“Find anything?”

“Yeah, actually.” Legend held out the tablet. “Song magic script. Do any of you guys recognize this?”

Twi, Four, and Wars all frowned as they looked at the markings, but Wind lit up instantly. He threw his hand in the air. “I do!” he exclaimed. “That’s 4/4 time; it’s conductors notes!”

Time raised an eyebrow. “Conductor’s notes?”

“Uh-huh. It’s how song magic works on the Great Sea.” Wind tilted his head to the side. “Though, I don’t know this song. What is it?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Legend said, sitting down by the fire. “Think you can play a tune for us?”

Wind’s eye’s shone, and he pulled out his silver baton, looking to Time for confirmation. “Can I?”

The older hero frowned, considering. “...Not this close to the fire. Or to bad weather. For all we know, it’s a Lyric of Lightning or something equally as dangerous.”

Wind’s shoulders slumped, and Four patted his back. “Cheer up,” he said. “You can still try it out tomorrow. Besides,” he flashed the younger hero a smile, “we should eat before it rains, right? I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Wind relented. He gave one last wistful look at the tempo pattern.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, I’ll learn your secrets.

Rain pattered outside the heroes’ shelter, the soothing sound and calm scent of petrichor letting even the most troubled of them sleep undisturbed, for once.

Well...almost all of them.

Wind managed the 2 AM watch at the edge of camp, eyeing Legends tools and trying to coax himself out of the temptation to try the new song. It had been so long since he’d run into a tablet like that; the thrill of new abilities or hidden passages was a siren’s call to the young adventurer.

Up, down, up, right. It was so simple.

What could it do?

Wind found himself fantasizing about the possibilities. Maybe it calls birds, he thought. Or summons fairies, or lets you talk to rocks. He glanced up at the stormclouds. Or maybe the old man’s right and it’s a lightning song. How cool would that be?

He pictured it; calling down lightning like one of the mages of legend, with just a swish of the Wind Waker. He could take out entire monster camps in one fell swoop!

His eyes drifted back to the tablet by Legend’s bag.

...If it’s really a lightning song, then it won’t work if we wait for the storm to clear, Wind thought to himself, pulling out his baton.

He needed to try it out.

Just to test it. Time would understand, right?

Stealthily, he crept over and grabbed the stone, carefully pulling it over to his post at the tarp’s edge, and stood in front of it. The Wind Waker sparkled with magic intent.

The stone shimmered, triangle carvings lighting up; orange, yellow, orange, blue. Light bled through the cracks, and—

—it crumbled to dust.

Wind’s jaw dropped.

...Legend was going to kill him.

He shoved the Wind Waker back into his bag hastily, trying to keep calm. This is fine, right? If he doesn’t say anything, then nobody can blame him, and Legend could chalk it up to age! Relics break all the time!

...Except Time’s disapproving frown would crack Wind for sure. There was no evading that; it was almost as bad as when his grandma gave him the look of disappointment. He was doomed.

Ping!

Wind’s ears twitched, momentarily distracted from his crisis by the sound. A soft purple glow caught his eye.

Ping!

The Master Sword gave another call, the sliver of visible blade pulsing with lavender light among Sky’s things.

Wind stared at the sacred sword, uncertain. “...What is it?” he whispered.

Ping!

He reached out to take it, then hesitated.

Sky was going to kill him too.

...No. He couldn’t, right? The Master Sword was just as much Wind’s as anyone else here; besides, he’d just borrow it. Sky could have it back. He reached out for the blade.

Ping!

Four shifted in his sleep, and Wind froze, staring at the shorter hero. If the sword woke anyone up before he could fix the tablet situation, he was toast.

Ping!

Panicking, Wind snatched the sword up and ran outside, trying to silence it before it could make any more noise. He would deal with the consequences later, when the others woke up at a normal time. Once he was safely in the white noise of rainfall, Wind drew the blade. “Alright, what is it?” he demanded, holding it level with his eyes as if he could scold it. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Ping, ping, ping—

He frowned as it began to beep faster, lowering it. “Come on, I can’t deal with-”

Ping! Ping!

He paused, then lifted it up again.

Ping, ping, ping—

He lowered it.

Ping! Ping!

Back up.

Ping, ping, ping—

Wind tilted his head curiously. Experimentally, he spun in a slow circle.

Ping, ping, ping ping ping PINGPINGPING ping ping—

“Are you...trying to show me something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Watching it closely, he pointed the sword in the direction that caused the most noise and light.

Into the forest.

He glanced back at camp. If he stayed behind, they could all go after whatever this was together...after he got a scolding for breaking Legend’s stuff, and endangering the camp, and not listening to the old man...

Yeah, no. Forest it is.

Sky rolled over in his sleep, his dreams filled with endless skies and blue loftwings. Clouds rolled in over the picnic of pumpkin soup he was having with Zelda.

Fragrant, but suffocating clouds. He couldn’t breathe.

He bolted awake, fighting whatever was cutting off his air and defeating the tangled sailcloth in a heroic and not-at-all frantic wrestling match. His eyes fell on the white fabric as he caught his breath.

...He should stop wearing this thing to bed.

With a sigh, he unpinned it from his shoulders and went to wrap it around Fi. If he couldn’t have the comforts of home, at least she could. He reached for the blade—

—and grasped nothing but air.

With a frown, the hero fumbled for his tinderbox and lit a match, struggling a moment to make a spark in the damp storm air, then looked around for his trusty blade. The longer he searched, the more he could feel ice creep into his veins; he even rifled through the luggage of the usual borrowers of the Master Sword.

“Sky?”

His attention snapped over to the source of the voice. Time was looking at him with an eyebrow raised, bleary-eyed and confused. “What are you doing?”

Sky swallowed the panicked lump in his throat. “The Master Sword’s missing.”

Time sat up sharply, wide awake in an instant as adrenaline shot through him. He quickly did a headcount.

Eight. One short.

Kid-sized bootprints left the camp’s edge, pressed into the fresh mud in a perfect trail.

Wind ran through the woods, following wherever the sword led him. The faster he figured out what was going on, the faster he could get back. And if he found something, that would make things better, right? He’d even let Legend keep some of the treasure, as a peace offering.

The forest, though, seemed to have no end to it, stretching high above his head, with shadows reaching out from all directions. He remembered hearing about something like this from Hyrule—the Lost Woods, which spat you out the way you came from if you made a wrong turn in them. He’d never heard of such a thing on the Great Sea, but then again, the ocean wasn’t exactly known for its vast woodland.

Finally, he reached a clearing, the sword giving a continuous ringing noise to indicate that he’d hit his dowsing mark. And, standing in the middle of it, was a weathered stone wall, overgrown with vines. He could faintly see something scrawled behind the foliage.

Narrowing his eyes, Wind channeled all the magic power he could into the Master Sword’s spin attack.

“HYAH!”

“HYAH!”

The heroes stopped in their tracks at the noise. Hyrule sheltered his candle from the rain carefully. “Was that-”

“He’s here.” Time said, quickly breaking into a jog. “Come on, we can’t lose pace now. The Lost Woods can do awful things to you if you’re not careful.”

Wind shook his head, quickly getting rid of the stars in his vision. He’d forgotten how disorienting a Hurricane Spin could be.

It had done the job well, though. The vines were nothing but chopped salad now, and the carvings behind the stone were clear as day. Six conductor’s notes stared Wild in the face, begging to be played.

The hero’s fingers tingled; this felt like the start of an adventure, one that didn’t start with a kidnapping and cannonfire.

Drawing himself up, he pulled out his baton, and began to play the magic tune.

This one was different from the first. It felt...familiar, somehow. It wasn’t something he’d ever played before, and yet...

The music carried his thoughts away from him. He found himself conducting from his heart, like when he’d played with Medli and Makar, swept up in the energy the song game off. As he ran out of notes to orchestrate, he heard an earsplitting CRACK, and his eyes flew open.

The wall had crumbled to nothingness, like the tablet had. In its wake, however, a shining blueish pedestal sat, magic spiraling outwards from its center like a spring flower.

Ping!

Wind looked at the Master Sword, tucking the Wind Waker away. He smiled fondly. “Just like old times, huh?” Giving it a playful twirl, he walked over to the pedestal, holding the sword’s hilt in both hands. “I wonder what’s going to look like this time. Are you going to get more powerful?” His eyes shone, imagining the others’ faces at bringing an even stronger Master Sword back with him. Taking a deep breath, he stabbed the blade down into its newest resting place, confident that he could handle whatever boss or dungeon this unlocked.

“LINK!!!”

His head snapped up as the rest of the Chain rushed into the clearing, eyes wide. “Hey-” He tried to talk, but no sound came out; his mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his head swam. Silver fog began to cloud his vision.

The last thing he was aware of before he felt himself fall was Time throwing his blade aside and running to catch him.

Then it all went white. The only noises he could hear were the whispers of watchers, and the chimes of tiny bells.

[spideymarvelws]

can you do some technoblade x teen platonic reader headcanons about techno sorta being the reader’s mentor and being one of the only people on the smp who could actually defeat technoblade in a sword fight?

behold... another main character

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To Your Taglist

Warnings : Violence, Death, Some cursing

Word Count : 4.0k

The Blade and The Survivor (1/?)

Technoblade x GN!Platonic!Teen!Reader

You’ve only ever heard the story’s of the famous blood god growing up

Your brother was the first to introduce you to the legend, the legend of a man who never died

Who’s fought battles that no person could ever dream of and walked out victorious every time

The well known anarchist who’s taken down government after government

You were hooked from the very beginning and after every tail he would tell, you would beg your brother to teach you how to fight like him

While your brother wasn’t the best, he knew his way around basic weapons from your grandfather and agreed 

He would bring you out to a nearby plains biome anytime you were free and teach you all he knew

And while it wasn't much, you were grateful for every piece of information and put your all into everything he taught you

He even reenacting some fights from the stories to make it interesting for you

You would always play along, acting as the infamous blade and running around with your brother

Sometimes you would shout “blood for the blood god” while killing cows or chickens

But you refused to kill pigs.

In fact you got a pet one and named it Bladey

For your birthday your brother got you a saddle and you made a carrot on a stick using the crops he stole from the farm so you could ride it across the village

He also gifted you a wooden sword and axe while he wielded stone

for safety of course, he wasn't about to give a child stone tools

Along with a shield that had the banner of your village

But out of every weapon, you were the best with a bow

You had a natural talent for it, every arrow you ever shot always hit its target

Your brother would always ruffle your hair and compare your aim to that of the blade’s, making you beam even brighter

“Who knew we have an archer on our hands, the blade could never compare,”

But all of this was done in secret

The village you lived in was safe, small and homey

Everyone knew one another, so the possibly of someone committing crimes or turning against someone was unlikely

The villagers were peaceful with one another

And with the iron golems patrolling every corner 

you loved to give them poppies from your mother’s garden as a thank you

There was no need to learn to fight when you lived in a place that never needed it

The village ran on balance, equality amongst each person so that everyone could be amongst one another in peace

Plus, at the time you were the youngest in the village, considered a baby by everyone

And while you had the kindness and curiosity to match it, there was always something missing

Training was the only thing that fulfilled it

Your brother thought that your practises would disrupt that balance so he never told anyone about your activities

And that stayed true until your last night in the village 

You, your brother and bladey were making your way back to the village after a long day of training when you noticed thick, black smoke rising from where it stood

You both started walking carefully to the area, you walking behind your brother with the pig in your arms for comfort

In the distance, you noted the shadow of pillagers and iron ore scattered across the grounds

You went to scream as you got close and run to your house, but your brother slapped his hand over your mouth and pulled you with him behind a nearby tree

But one of the pillagers heard the noise of leaves rustling and began to approach the both of you.

Your brother was quick to take out his sword, pushing you behind him 

“Listen to me Y/n, I want you to run okay? Run and never stop until you know you’re safe okay?”

You shook your head, “What about you? What about our parents?”

He smiled sadly, shakily ruffling your hair, “I’ll be right behind you... Now go!”

The sound of swords clashing and the screams of your brother were the last things you heard  as you ran, tears falling from your face 

Bladey squealed in your arms, wiggling and turning to get out of them, sensing the danger but you kept your grip tight, following your brother’s orders and running as far as pos sible

Needless to say he didn’t follow, neither did the rest of the village that was left in ashes and ruins after the attack

You couldn't find the heart to turn back, to fight along side your brother

You fled like a coward. Guilt, pain and hatred riding on your back 

But you didn't give up hope, plotting revenge against the mobs who destroyed your home

Who killed your family

You walked for days, stopping at villages, trading with them and improving your supplies

And getting a lot of carrots

Your wooden swords turned into iron, along with the rest of your tools

Your leather helmet turned into a full set of iron armor 

But you kept your old shield, repairing it every time it lost durability

You even crafted a crossbow that you learned was the main weapon pillagers used

You dreamed of pointing it at there neck, watching the sharp arrowhead puncture their skin and bleed out on the floor

You tended to sleep through the day and fight threw the night, taking out your anger on the mobs that spawned around the wood houses you made to keep yourself warm and isolated

Times when you weren't fighting and training, you spent in the library of any village you found, learning about anything you could

It was there you learnt about the rare ore diamonds, hidden deep in caves 

You also learned about enchantments, that made your armor and weapons even stronger

Soon enough you were geared up with full diamond armor and a set of diamond tools 

But it was never enough, you always needed more 

So you went to nether after repairing a ruined portal you came across

And began exploring

Gathered potions

All the materials you could find

Along with netherite

And fighting every mob you happened to pass by except piglins

For such a young age, you were stacked, maxed out to the point of boredom that you couldn't go further

Even Bladey had his own turtle shell, adjusted slightly to fit his head and allow him sight

You often wondered if this was what it was like to feel like technoblade

And throughout your journeys, you kept the stories your brother told you by heart, learning as much as you could about The Blade

You followed in his footsteps, using his successes as even more motivation to continue on your quest

And ready to finally get your revenge

It was easy to take down the pillage post, taking the banner and making your own shield that you kept as a trophy in your inventory as a reminder of what you lost

But it wasn’t enough, the loss of your family laid heavy and your heart

So you started protecting the villages you visited in exchange for lower prices in trades

You believed that was your purpose now, you had nothing else to do but fight for the people who couldn't fight for themselves

You wanted to help in ways that you couldn't all those years ago

You would wear a black cloak over your armor, the hood covering your head and a mask concealing your face

You couldn't imagine wearing a skull mask, even if it was for the aesthetic

You looked like death itself

Death with a cute pig side kick

Soon enough, word got around of a teenage warrior roaming the lands labelled ‘The Survivor’, catching the attention of Wilbur and Tommy who had just been exiled from L’manburg

“Why would we need them if we already have techno on our side?”

“Because we need all the allies we could get Tommy, plus we don’t want Shlatt to get to them first.”

You would be passing by Pogtopia on your horse with Bladey tucked into you lap sleeping, following a map to another village that needed help when a tall man stepped in front of your path, making you halt

“Why hello there, Survivor, care for a little chat?” he said ominously, leaning against your horse

You payed no mind to him, hitting his hand of your horse, rolling your eyes and moving around him

You’ve meet people like him on your travels before, people who only needed you for your skills and selfish reasons

At least, that how he came off and you didn’t care to stay and find out if your assumptions were true

“Hey, hey, hey, look, I’m sorry if I came off so forward but- I need your help,”

That made you stop.

“Need help with what exactly?”

He went on to explain his situation about a place called L’Manburg, an evil dictator named Jshlatt and his exile along with someone named TommyInnit

At first you said no.

You were only interest in keeping your own kind safe, protected people who needed it

And from the looks of it, it seemed that the two men put themselves in there position so they should be the one to take themselves out

That and you had more pressing matters to attend to than government

“What do you need? What would you want in return?” he started to beg, walking along side your horse as you started to ride away

“I already have all I need,” you croaked

“Well that seems boring. Don’t you want a bit of adventure in your life Survivor? A little bit of flavour to spice up it up? It must be so boring just fighting the same thing over and over again, why not work for a group? A collective?”

You grew tired of his voice, letting out a deep breath you began to consider his words

As much as you didn’t want to admit, he was right

You had been travelling around the lands, going insane, doing the same thing over and over

And while it helped people, it was growing tiring

Maybe one war wouldn’t be so bad, and perhaps you would learn some new stuff along the way

And the alliance with this so called L’manburg would be good for the long run

“If I agree... would you shut up?” you finally cut off his rambling and stopping your horse

He blinked in surprise, “Wow! If i had known talking would make you cave in, I would've brought up Tommy instead.”

You sighed, “I’ll help you okay? As long as I get free access to L’manburg afterwards along with all the supplies i need,”

“Done, done and done.”

The first day wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be

Wilbur was actually pretty chill, letting you make a new home out of the ravine they stayed in

Niki was also really kind, bringing sweet treats from Manburg every time she visited

It was nice to settle for a while, you couldn't remember the last time you slept under the same roof for more that a day

Your horse, Jewel along with Bladey seemed to settle well along with you

You also met Tubbo and Tommy, a lively duo that overwhelmed you at first but there energy was nice to see in such a grey environment

What you didn’t expect was to meet him

You would be mining a small space in the ravine for yourself and your pets when you heard a monotone voice sound from behind you

“Heh?! Who’s the kid?” 

You spun around, raising your sword to the intruder but froze when you noticed the familiar skull mask, along with pointy piglin ears hidden behind bright pink hair 

He didn’t seem fazed by your weapon, leaning against the stone door frame with his arms crossed

“You’re- you’re him.” you muttered in awe

Before he could respond, Wilbur popped out from behind him, “Oh, yeah. That’s Y/n, Y/n, Techno. Techno, Y/n,” he nudged his side, “They’ll be helping us take back L’manburg,”

Techno only nodded, “Nice.” he tilted his head, “Aren’t you that Survivor dude? That’s pretty pog.”

Cut to you standing frozen in place, jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide in amazement

“You- you know who I am?” you squeaked, quickly sticking your sword in the ground and leaning against the handle, stumbling slightly

An attempt to seem cool in front of your idol

An attempt that didn't really work out

He let out a hum, “Heard the name from around yeah,” he pointed to your sword, “Might not want to stab your sword in stone, It’s not that affective.”

And with that he left

Leaving you in shock

If only your brother could see you now

After that interaction, you started to follow him around like a lost puppy, watching in awe at every little thing he did

You felt like a kid again, the warmth in your chest that you lost so long ago restored because the person who tied you and your brother together was here

Because you were training and fighting along side your childhood hero

He would act annoyed at first, always shrugging you off or moving to other rooms to avoid you

You were like a parasite 

He could never shake you off

He didn’t want to grow close to anyone, he was here to take down yet another corrupt government not to look after some orphan

That was Phil’s thing.

But after time he grew a liking to you, enjoying your presence while he was farming potatoes or visiting his cow farm

You acted different around him, the hard and emotionless exterior you showed to Tommy and Wilbur completely vanished and left an innocent, happy child

He always wondered why 

People never did that with him

He was a feared name across the lands of the smp, everyone usually kept there distance and became extremely cautious in his presence

But you didn’t seem to get scared, in fact, you were a talker, constantly asking question after question even if he gave no response

It was nice not to be alone after so long even though he would never admit it 

Even the voices started to take a liking to your bubbly and curious personality

Why is she asking the same question

Maybe you should answer her blood god

She seems nice

You really do take after your father

He saw a part of himself in you

Unlike Tommy and Wilbur, you weren’t fighting for government, you were fighting because you had nothing else to do

Because you were bored with your everyday life being, essentially, an assassin 

The thought always made him chuckle

He left like he could trust you over them because your weren't driven under a government

At least that’s what he told himself

He also wanted to see why they valued your alliance so much to give up half there riches to you from L’manburg

“Duel with me.” he said to you one day, out of the blue as you both made your way across a plain biome looking to animals to kill for food

“Heh?” you said under your breath, clearing your throat while heat rose your your face at his suggestion and the noise of surprise that escaped your mouth

Techno couldn't deny that his heart warmed just a little at the small things you began to pick up from him

“Fight with me,” he drew out his sword, turning around and facing you with the weapon raised in the air, “I wanna see what you’re made of ‘Survivor’. So come on, lets fight,”

This was the first time techno actually talked to you directly, uttered words other that demands, silly excuses or grunts of acknowledgement

“I-” you let out a deep breath, shakily taking out your own sword, “Okay, okay,”

After establishing some rules, the duel began.

He let you take the first hit, barely dealing him damage but you got the second hit as well, knocking him down two hearts

He was quick to regain himself, taking three hearts with his sword and a free hit with his bow

That gave you the idea to take out your own, running a good distance away and getting three shots in

It was a close fight, you didn’t mind if you lost. Fighting Technoblade was already an honour as it was

Then you jumped of a piece of stone, landing a crit and watched his items fall to the floor

Technoblade was slain by Y/n 

You let out a short breath, eyes widening in shock that you had just won

You just killed Technoblade

“I was only going easy on you- I- What enchantment do you have on your sword? You have creative mode don’t you? Yeah, you have creative mode... there’s just no way-”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your laughs as the blood god ran over to pick up his items with a red face

“Hey! Hey don’t laugh! This isn’t a laughing matter!”

“It- it kind of is.” you said shyly, putting away your sword and eating some steak to regain the health you lost, “If it makes you feel better, I had one heart...”

“oNe hEaRt! She had one heart chat! What is this-”

His words had you rolling on the floor, wiping your eyes of the tears falling from your at how hard you were laughing

“What- What do I have to do for you to keep this between us-” he whispered after you calmed, looking around the the space, making sure it was just you and him

You shrugged, “Nothing really- I- uh, i didn’t mean to kill you... I’m sorry-”

Sorry? Who the fuck says sorry for killing someone

Who says sorry for killing him?

If anything you should be gloating, getting a billbourd and displaying the chat message for everyone to see

He’s never been gladder that nobody else was connected to the chat at the time

“I was going easy on you.”

“I- sure, sure okay...” you thought about it for a second, “If so... then why don’t you teach me the things you didn’t try? Like techniques and stuff...”

He froze at your suggestion, “You want- you want to learn from me?”

“Yeah!” you beamed, “You were... a big inspiration for me growing up and, I would love to learn from the source and not just through tails and stories.”

He thought about it for a bit, usually he would rely on his voices but they were all just insulting him

He didn’t see the harm in it, out of all the children on the SMP, he tolerated you the most

That and you had potential, it was rare to find someone with such skills and who acted humble with them

He sighed, patting the top of your head with a huff, “Sure... Sure why not.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah sure, I mean what’s the harm in it right?” he ruffled your hair

The action made your eyebrows rise and when you looked back up at the piglin hybrid, all you saw was the smile of your brother looking down at you

“Hey, everything alright?” he questioned, noticing your sudden glossy eyes

You quickly rubbed them with your knuckles, “Yeah, yeah I- I just forgot something at Pogtopia,” you said, backing away with an embarrassed smile, “I’ll meet you back there,”

“Sure, sure... I’ll just continue hunting,”

As you ran away he let out a deep breath, taking out swords and looking down at it with a scoff

“Chat... we never speak of this... again.”

After that, the both of you were inseparable 

Going on adventures with each other, looting and exploring together

Where ever he went, you followed in his footsteps as he taught you about whatever he could

He even took you to his secret base and allowed you to help him in gathering supplies to help the fight

“What’s with the pig by the way?”

“It’s my emotional support pig.”

“And his name is bladey?”

“...”

“It’s a short for bladder...now what were you saying about poisoned arrows?”

And while you appreciated the action, your favourite times where the calm ones

When he would take you up to a hight tower or hill so the both of your could relax, maybe eat some mushroom stew as he told you stories of his own adventures 

You opened up to him as well, telling him about your family and your village, how you were travelling around with so sense of direction

It was strange how easily he trusted you, maybe it was because you had similar experiences as him

You understood him and he understood you

You also began to make good friends with the rest of Pogtopia along with everyone else who started to betray shlatt and join there side, becoming more open with the reassurance from Techno that they weren’t bad people

You fit in well, a lot more that he did

You had potential for a bloodless life, he saw that

He didn’t want you to make the same mistakes as him, he didn’t want you to live the same isolated life

And while you agreed with his thoughts on anarchy, he didn’t want to you to have any part in what he was doing.

So when L’Manburg was taken back and Tubbo was but in power, he felt a sense of dread opening his enderchest and taking out his six wither skulls

Don’t let the wither’s hurt them

You’re going to hurt them more that they are

You won’t be able to protect

Protect them at all costs

It wasn’t just the voices that felt the urge to keep you safe

Over the months he’s grown a liking to you, treating you like his own student and teaching you the things he wish he knew at your age

But he could also be the one to corrupt you.

And he didn’t have the heart to find out which way it would go

You caught sight of the skulls in his hands before he switched to his sword, a hard look on his face as everyone began fighting each other

“Techno?” you walked up to him, “Are you-”

“Yeah... yeah I am.” he puffed out his chest, pulling you the side, “Look, things are about to get messy and when they do I want you to run-”

You knew where this was going, flashbacks of your brother fighting one of the pillagers to save you as you ran away to safe yourself, sacrificing himself for you

“No.” you cut him off before he could continue.

While you knew Techno was going to come out of this alive, you had the power to help him now, to help everyone, you didn’t need to run anymore

You considered Techno family now, well the closest thing you had to it and you weren't about to loose that

Not again.

“I’m staying with you Tech,”

He shook his head, “If you do, L’manburg would never look at you the same, you’ll be an outcast once again-”

“Then do what you have to do, but I’m not running away. What happens here is because of everyone’s belief and I believe in safety and protection so that is what I’ll provide.” you took out your sword smirking, “Plus, we all know what happened last time when you tried to fight me,”

“I thought you promised to never speak of this again!”

“I’m sorry I had to-”

“Okay kid, okay...” he took a deep breath, “Just stay clear of dream and his crew... and the withers... Actually? here take some golden apples-”

“Just go be an anarchist Techno,” you pushed him forwards, rolling your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

“Actually, take this God apple and a few more potions-”

“I already have some-”

“Well take more. And some extra armor... just in case-” he threw the items at you before running away and setting up the soul sand, not wanting anyone to catch on to what he was doing

And with one final look around following the conclusion of his speech, he placed the skulls, unleashing ultimate chaos on the land once called L’manburg

...

Sorry this took so long! I always get ahead of myself with requests and end up writing a lot more that planned but i hope you enjoyed! I was making this so long that I had to spit this into part two, maybe part three to cover the rest of the lore and to be able to develop more on their relationship besides backstory

That and i really want to write the execution scene but this was already 4k words... 

Feedback always appreciated🥰

[stiltonbasket]

how my love springs deep

by stiltonbasket

(read here on AO3!)

Summary:

My Lan Zhan, his husband calls him. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian feeds rabbits, and Lan Wangji reads a love letter.

(brief a/n: this fic was inspired by this heartbreaking work of beauty by @pakhnokh--I had to write Lan Wangji getting adored after witnessing it, come join me on the angst parade T~T)

____

My Lan Zhan, 

    It has been two years and more since I last wrote you a letter, for marriage has joined us both at the hip, and ensured that we are never more than a touch or a cry away from one another. I have you by me always, in every hour of every day; and every love-word that crosses my mind finds its way to my lips in the very moment of its birth, and reaches your ears just as quickly, for I could no more keep silent in my devotion to you than swim the full length of the Songhuajiang against the current. And so I go about my days hence, calling “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan” all the while: but today I have woken before chenshi, and you are still asleep beside me with Xiao-Yu in your arms, and though my every nerve and vein is aching for love of my husband, I cannot bear to wake you to say so. 

    Lan Zhan, sweetheart—when we were first married, you told me once that I colored the world for you the instant we met, and brought every shade of the rainbow with me from Yunmeng to make the Cloud Recesses beautiful. You said that the air that touched me at the gate smelt as if lightning had passed through it, and that the very stones I knelt on in the lanshi’s courtyard began to glitter after I departed, though they had never done such a thing before—and that the Cloud Recesses itself, having been a place of peace and reflection before my arrival, was filled with delight and warmth after my coming, as if that first day was the dawn after a long, long night, and I the sun who gifted it to you. 

    Heaven knows I had no equal words with which to worship you then, my darling, for I was young and still bewildered to know that you loved me. But I have been your husband for nearly three years now, and so I must tell you this—you have driven me mad for love of you, Lan Zhan, and it has been so since we first crossed swords on the rooftop gate when we were eighteen. 

    How mad, you ask? The classics say that love is a proper, courtly thing, to be shown with modesty before others and in its full force only in confidence. But I have never been proper, and so I must tell you that if you were a flint and steel, seeking only to light a flame and a tinder-heap to light it in, I would take form as a sun-parched forest, and set myself afire at your touch so that I might be beside you thus. If you were a god, roaming the heavenly kingdoms while my mortal flesh kept me constrained below, I would take the habit of a priest and devote myself to your prayer; and if you were a grain of sand in the Gebi desert, and I a traveler sick with thirst, I would fall to my knees and sift through every dune and basin to find you before drinking even a drop of water. 

    If I were freezing in the great mountains above Gusu, whose peaks are lush in the springtime but shrouded in snow in the winter, I would be well and happy if I had the warmth of your hand in mine; and when I am in my jishi, with the doors thrown open to let in the wind, I drop my knives and tools at the sound of your voice and stand there enraptured until you fall silent again. My heart nearly beats out of my body with everything you say, and everything you do; and when you look at me I lose all knowledge of speech and reason, recalling nothing but your name and your smiles unless some show of wit is necessary—which it very well might be, with you and I being what we are, and all our doings riddled with puzzles that would have bewildered even the scholars who founded our clan. 

    Lan Zhan, I love you so desperately that to be away from you is torment, and to be with you has always been paradise, even when you were sitting on one side of the library pavilion and reading Lan An’s poetry, and I was on the other with my brush and parchment, pretending to copy lines while I sketched a portrait of you and painted flowers into your hair. You have made me more your own with every passing day, though in every moment I fully belong to you, and there is no strangeness in it—as if new pieces of my spirit are formed shichen by shichen, and bound unto you before drawing their first breaths.

    I could go on endlessly, xingan, and exhaust even the lanshi’s stocks of paper in my adoration—but it will soon be breakfast time, and the hens have not been fed, nor the eggs collected, and neither have the rabbits been given their greens. I must go and tend to them now; only wait for me, and I will be back at your side again before you have time to miss me. 

    Ever yours, my husband—

        Wei Ying.

    P.S.—I left a pot of ginger porridge on the table by the bed, if you should wake and be hungry before I return. There is only a little, since the rest is still cooking in the kitchen, and you and A-Yu will still have an appetite for breakfast if you finish it all. 

_____

After Lan Wangji wakes and reads the folded letter on his bedside table, he scarcely glances at the tiny blue pot of ginger congee before stumbling out of bed and putting his shoes on. He is dressed in nothing but a thin white undergown, since he gave up dressing warmly at night when he first began sleeping beside Wei Ying; but he does not bother putting on a coat, and pauses only long enough to tuck a sleepy Xiao-Yu back under the covers before bounding out of the jingshi and hurrying downhill in his nightshirt. 

“Wei Ying!” he calls, when he passes the tidy chicken pen—home to ten brown hens, which Lan Wangji brought to the Cloud Recesses as a gift for Wei Ying before they were married—and finds the chickens pecking away in the yard, eating grains of fresh corn that had clearly just been thrown out by Wei Ying’s dear hands. But Wei Ying must have finished collecting the eggs, and gone on towards the warded field on the fringes of the bamboo forest to scatter vegetables for the rabbits; so Lan Wangji presses on, running with the wind at his back and the sharp pebbles underfoot almost piercing through his slippers. He reaches the rabbit field in less than a minute, careening between stalks of bamboo like a man possessed, and throws himself at Wei Ying so forcefully that he knocks his husband backwards into the soft grass at their feet. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying wheezes, as his lettuce basket flies out of his hand and lands near the entrance to a burrow: mercifully, the basket of eggs must have been set aside somewhere else before Wei Ying arrived to feed the rabbits. “Lan Zhan, sweetheart, what are you doing here? Is Xiao-Yu—?”

“Do not worry. Xiaohui is still asleep,” Lan Wangji assures him, bringing Wei Ying’s sun-warmed hands to his mouth and kissing them. “I came to find you because I read your letter.”

Wei Ying smiles, beaming from ear until Lan Wangji finds himself gasping for breath at the beauty of the sight before him. “I thought you must have. You were cuddled up against me when I woke up, and you were holding Xiao-Yu between us to keep him warm...and I couldn’t help it, Lan Zhan! You were so sweet that my heart could scarcely bear it, so of course I had to write it down for you.”

“Perhaps I should take up the habit of writing you love letters,” muses Lan Wangji, kissing Wei Ying’s delighted grin straight from his lips. “What do you think, xingan?”

“I think that waking to find you beside me every morning already brings me so much joy I could burst, darling. If you really did start leaving love letters for me to find, I would fold myself into your arms and never come out again.”

“Mm, perhaps you would. But that would please me greatly, so I suppose I will have to do it.”

His husband pinches his cheek. “Lan Zhan!”

“I am listening, beloved. With all my heart.”

Wei Ying covers his face and tries to roll out of Lan Wangji’s grasp, wriggling about six inches away before Lan Wangji takes him by the waist and draws him back. “Lan Zhan,” he wails, as a couple of baby rabbits hop up onto Lan Wangji’s back. “You can’t say such things, you silly man! See how my face is burning, look!”

“I’m looking,” Lan Wangji teases, tracing Wei Ying’s red cheeks with the pads of his own pale fingers. “I am always looking. I love my husband dearly, and he is very beautiful to look at.”

“Well, my husband is not so young as he used to be. Perhaps he is mistaken.”

“Oh?” He punctuates the inquiry with another searing kiss, pulling Wei Ying up into his arms and holding him so close that he can feel the stutter of his breathing, and his pulse beating quickly against Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Do you really think so?”

But the only reply Wei Ying gives him is a tender look that shakes Lan Wangji down to his jindan, and leaves him struggling for air all over again as Wei Ying wraps his arms around him. 

In the end, they do not leave the clearing until nearly half an hour later; the grass is as comfortable a cushion as two sweethearts could want, and the rabbits keep leaping around them and making Wei Ying laugh, so they lie there, cheek to cheek and chest to chest until they remember Xiao-Yu, all by himself in the jingshi with no one to hear him cry if he wakes up frightened to find himself alone. 

The thought of their son has Lan Wangji leaping to his feet with Wei Ying’s hand in his, and then they bolt back towards the house and retrieve the basket of eggs on the way, running nearly fast enough to outstrip Wen Ning at his swiftest before Wei Ying throws the doors open and barrels into the bedroom. 

“A-Yu!” he calls, letting out a shout of laughter as Lan Wangji comes jogging up behind him. “Xiao-Yu, baobei, what are you doing?”

“I’m eating ginger porridge,” Xiao-Yu chirps. The little lotus-shaped pot of congee is nestled snugly in his arms, and A-Yu is eating out of it with the large spoon Wei Ying left behind for Lan Wangji. “Papa and A-Niang went out, so Xiao-Yu is having breakfast.”

“Aiyah, Xiao-Yu,” Wei Ying groans, taking the pot away from A-Yu and wiping his dirty face with a handkerchief. “That was for you and Papa, sweetheart, since I was going to be late back. How will you eat your breakfast properly now?”

“But A-Yu is still hungry,” the little boy insists, trying to grab the spoon. “A-Niang, let me finish?”

“Wait a little longer,” scolds Wei Ying. “I still have to cook the rest of the porridge with steamed dan, and make chicken soup to go with it. Now be a good child and go with Papa to take your bath, and breakfast will be ready when you finish dressing.”

Xiao-Yu nods and jumps off the bed, scurrying off towards the washroom on the other side of the house, and leaves his parents to embrace each other once again before they part to attend to their own duties. 

“What do you want this afternoon, qinai?” Lan Wangji murmurs, as Wei Ying’s head falls onto his shoulder. “The tradesmen ought to have sent up the day’s groceries by now, so I will make lunch while you teach your talisman class.”

Wei Ying blinks, very slowly, and then he stands up on his toes and plants one last, lingering kiss between Lan Wangji’s eyebrows. 

“Teach my talisman class with me,” he entreats. “When we get back, we can make lunch together.”

(And so they do, and just like all the other dishes Lan Wangji has shared with Wei Ying, that afternoon’s luncheon tastes fresher and sweeter than every meal before it.)

[echoalyssa]

Phantom | Dick Grayson

Authors Note: There’s some light language in this, but thats about all!

“Phantom to Nightwing, entering dead zone now. Start the clock and come in if I’m late. I love you.”

You now had an hour inside the base, unable to contact anyone. You were collecting intel and because you were the stealthiest and smallest, (Damian was too young for this particular mission) Bruce had sent you in.

Your boyfriend, Dick Grayson had wanted to come with you but Bruce had rejected the idea because two people was more risky than one.

Dick had been livid, it was more risky for your life for you to go alone. He was your partner even though you were all a team. Ever since childhood, the two of you fought together and somewhat seemed to share the same mind.

You push a vine our of your dace. Your black masks shows the digital map of the quietest places to step. Your hood is pulled up to disguise your features and skin tone that obviously didn't fit in with the darkness of the air around you.

You had left your mottled cloak behind, opting to only have to worry about your body and where you place it. 

Joker was extremely active underground lately, he’d evolved and Bruce had only your mission as a lead. 

Your mask displays your one hour timer on the left hand side of your vision. Fifty minutes to get into the compound and back to safety.

The compound comes into view, a flat stone building that just didn’t fit in with the forest that surrounded it. You creep forward, staying in the shadows and hugging the walls of the building until you reach the only vent.

The stone was practically flat but years of training allowed you to look your gloved fingers into a crevice and wedge a booted foot into the building.

You begin climbing, scaling upwards twenty feet. The screws of the vent are all different and you have to pull away from the wall, your body straining so you can unscrew the bottom two.

You’re small enough that you can pry the vent open enough that you can squeeze yourself in. Forty minutes your clock reads. You were going too slow. You crawl forward on your elbows, you trek forward, you should have asked for two hours. Shit.

You hit the record button on your wrist panel and pull the microphone out.

It’s a tiny one but the quality is amazing. You’re peering through a small vent above a research lab now and you thread the microphone and it’s wire through the vent. The audio feeds into your ear piece and also saves to the hard drive in your panel.

You’re holding your breath, only breathing when you have to to minimize any chance of getting caught.

“We need to move in now! He’s only getting more recruits and it’s only a matter of time before they find us again.” Says a voice.

“If they haven’t already! I say we try the new weapon on some unsuspecting crowd of bystanders now. Then they’ll be too busy trying to save those silly citizens to deal with us.”

“Yes but is it ready..?”

“It needs to be tested again and we need to find a more powerful energy source eventually.”

And then the joker walks into view of the vent. He’s holding a blueprint and he spreads it on one of the tables. It’s the paint schematic for the weapon because of course, the joker being the joker meant that everything needed to be green, purple, and white.

You raise a hand to your mask and tap twice. It takes a screenshot of your view of the blueprint and sends it to the bat hard drive.

“Did you have any luck with batons inner circle? Would anyone snitch?”

“A couple...” the speaker listens. It’s valuable intel and now Bruce would be able to feed false information to the rats.

You begin to tap their names away into the panel and then attempt to wirelessly hack into the mainframes. The firewall were strong and plentiful but eventually they all fall victim to you. Sixteen minutes your timer reads. Shit. The data downloading from their computers and into your drive is only halfway done.

It won’t be very detailed. Just minuscule bits of information because you couldn't connect physically to the computers. It’s a line of script here and there that didn't make much sense to you because you weren't super tech-y. Though every line counted and that you knew. Several addresses also pop up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your panel signals that the download is complete. Seven minutes reads the timer. Double shit.

You scramble backwards knowing that you’ve done all that you can. Somehow managing to turn yourself around in the small space. You’re almost at the vent when you foot clangs against the side of the vent.

You freeze, no alarms go off, but then again why would they? The timer is still ticking and you continue on, sliding out of the vent. You fumble with the screws, attempting to get them back in in case your cover hadn't already been blown. You then plant your feet, push off and flip down to the ground. You land nimbly in a rolling crouch and then pop to your feet and take off, sprinting for the tree line.

They come from the shadows. Dozens of them. All focused in on you.

You suck in a breath and draw your longswords.

“Bring it on Goonies!” You call and they surge forward all at once. Some with guns, electric batons, and swords.

You stalk forward, meeting them in the middle. You begin slashing immediately at arms, legs, torsos, anywhere that wasn’t too lethal. You weren't a killer.

Except there were just so many, the sword in your left hand falls from your grip and you pull out a disc, throwing it into the incomers. It explodes, blinding some and wounding others. 

You yank s taser out from your belt and stab it into an attackers neck while blocking an attack with your sword. And then it happens. A baton smacks into the back of your head and you stumble forward, dizzy. A blade slashes your thigh, splitting skin and muscle. A cry comes fro, your lips and you lash out desperately with your one remaining longsword. You're able to down the foe who had slashed you.

Two more take his place and then a dagger rips through your abdomen from behind. You scream, falling to your knees. Just as it gets put through your thigh, followed by your shoulder. You land in the grass face first and the world goes dark, sound fading out.

‘Dick.’ Is your last thought.

~~~

Dick is staring at the timer that is displayed by his make. 00:00:05. 00:00:04. 00:00:03. 00:00:02. 00:00:01. And the dreaded number... 00:00:00. It blares red and he stares at the forest, fists clenched. Where was she?

Tim steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “Give her five minutes okay? She’s smart. You know how these missions sometimes go overtime. She’s got this.”

“We never should have sent her in alone. It was too risky. Damn it!”

His fist rockets into a tree. He considers going after Bruce, giving him a piece of his mind. Then decides that it isn’t worth it and begins to prepare to go in after his love.

He makes sure to grab the miniature cauterizer and some other emergency medical supplies, stuffing them into the pouches on his belt.

“Wait, Nightwing, we’ll go together. We need a plan!” Damian calls.

His heart is pounding out of his chest and he can’t breathe. ‘What if he was too late? What if she was already gone?’

He doesn’t want to wait for a plan, time was ticking. He pushes past his adoptive brother.

“Dick wait!” Jason calls trying to grab his arm. But he keeps going, breaking for the trees to find her.

Jason and Tim look at each other, then they both look at Damian. “Stay here.” They say simultaneously/

“No way!” He yells back at his brothers.

The three of them take them off after Nightwing. And Bruce, having watched all his children run into danger, follows them in.

Nightwing is pushing through vines and branches, not caring if he makes noise or not. He knows the rest of his family will follow him, but quietly.

His mail enhances his vision in the darkness. He draws a thumb over his own panel and it activates the heat censor on his mask. Dick Grayson pushes forward quickly, scanning frantically for her heat signature.

And then he sees it. She’s always run cold. Her fingers and limbs always frozen. A small prone figure, running colder than the other surrounding bodies. He kicks up his pace, heading for her because he just knows.

“Phantom!” he yells, followed by, “Robin! I think I found her!”

He skids to a halt and falls to his knees, he can see the stab wounds. The way her blood has soared into the ground beneath her. 

Nightwing rolls her over, jamming his fingers under her neck to find a pulse. It’s there. But weak.

He rips the cauterizer out of his belt and drapes her body over him just as Jason appears. 

“Is she..?”

“Alive.” He grunts, “Not for much longer I need to..”

Jason helps him rip the uniform away enough so Dick has enough room to maneuver.

“Hold her down!”

Jason does as he’s told and Dick places the cauterizer to her skin.

“Only do what you have to, we need to get out of here. And soon.”

He pushes the two flaps of skin together and places the sparking tool to it. The heat melds the skin together. She’d need to be pumped full of antibiotics in case any of the blades were dirty and risked infection.

She only stirs slightly, too disoriented from her loss of blood. He talks to her the whole time he works on her.

He only does her abdomen, knowing that it’s her most serious injury. It might not even hold from the jolting and jostling that would occur in the journey back. Dick stabs a painkiller into her thigh, just in case she were to awaken.

He motions to Tim and Damian, who had been standing guard, to take up the rear. Grayson then scoops up his girlfriend, cradling her to his chest.

“Jason. Take point. Let’s get her home.”

~~~

He sits by her bedside. His hands are covered in her dry blood, along with his suit. He hadn’t bothered to change.

Y/N had needed a blood transfusion and he had offered immediately, hence why there was a needle in his arm funneling blood into girlfriend. Alfred had stitched do her wounds and hooked her up to an IV for hydration and anti-infection purposes.

She’d been changed out of her uniform after she was stable for cleanliness reasons and was now wearing one of his black shirts.

He’s holding her hand, his thumb tracing over the pulse point of her wrist occasionally.

It would be a long road to recovery for her though they all knew that she would bounce back and attempt to get back in to the field as soon as she could walk.

It’s days later when she finally wakes, her eyelids fluttering.

“Dick.” She whispers.

He’s right there, just like he had been, he’d only left briefly to shower but he ate and slept at her side. Jason had covered both of your patrols, with Bruce helping out.

“I’m okay. You’re okay, babygirl.” He places a hand on her face and she leans her head into his touch.

[ikeromantic]

Friends and Frenemies

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2800 words. This scene takes place after the events of the romantic epilogue. Mostly fluff, slightly spicy.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Kitsune's Day Out

Mitsuhide sat on the floor with his little mouse in his lap. His fingers stroked the nape of her neck as he listened intently to Sarutobi.

Sasuke and Miyake sat across from them on the edge of the bed. Miyake’s expression was somewhere between awe and exhaustion. He wasn’t saying much, just staring into empty space with a confused grin.

The ninja looked mildly pleased as he talked. “My professor took a little convincing. We had to call in the history department chair to talk to Miyake.”

“What did he want to know?” The chatelaine’s eyes were heavy with sleep. They’d spent the day walking around Kyoto, looking at historical sites - things Mitsuhide should recognize.

Of course, everything was so changed from his time that the places they visited may as well have been new. Even if they were the same structures, what lay around them had changed so much as to render the buildings and monuments unrecognizable.

Sasuke shrugged. “Details. It was like watching a verbal exam in a master class. And then he made Miyake pick out his own sword from a room of Sengoku period weapons. It was impressive watching him look each one over.”

At this, the warrior chuckled. “I almost didn’t. It was strange to see Kichihiroe looking so old and worn.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “But you did. So all is well.” He turned his attention back to Sasuke. “What is the benefit of bringing these men in on our secret?”

“Well, first off, this.” He handed Miyake and Mitsuhide campus ID cards. “You are both now officially visiting professors, with a stipend and everything. There was a small . . . additional favor they requested from you.”

“Which is?” Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow.

Miyake answered. “They want you to come in and answer questions. A lot of questions.” He wiped his brow. “They started in on me today and there is just no end!”

Sarutobi nodded a confirmation.

“So . . . they want to pay you to answer questions about the Sengoku era? And that’s it? That doesn’t sound so bad.” The chatelaine grinned.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I am not sure it’s so simple. This interaction - couldn’t it cause -” he thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “A complication? If I let slip something they don’t know, or they tell me something that will happen?”

“A paradox.” Sasuke’s mouth curled up in the slightest smile. “I considered that. But we are already living in a parallel timeline. One in which you and Nobunaga live, as well as some other changes.”

“So the things they tell us, those aren’t things that will happen?” Miyake sounded a little tense as he asked the question.

“Right,” Sarutobi replied. “Or, mostly right. We can’t be sure how far apart our timeline is from the original, so I encourage you to forget anything you may hear.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “Once a truth is heard, it cannot be so easily forgotten.”

“True enough. Can’t unring the bell, as they say. But are you willing to take that chance and talk with the history professor anyway?”

“I will.” Mitsuhide stroked his little one’s neck with gentle fingertips. “It will be interesting, regardless. And you have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange things. It’s the least I can do to play along.”

“I appreciate that.” Sasuke gave a little bow. “So what did you two do today?”

Miyake elbowed him and gave the two lovers a knowing wink.

Mitsuhide’s little one blushed and covered her face. “No! Nothing like that! Miyake! We just went shopping. Oh - and there were these men -”

“Who kindly helped me pick up our bags when I dropped them. We were very appreciative.” Mitsuhide interrupted her before she could give away any more information about their run in with the modern day bandits. Not that he didn’t trust Sasuke and Miyake. He did - as much as he trusted anyone. But it was always wise to keep information to yourself until there was a reason to share.

Sasuke blinked. “Ok. Well. Tomorrow, I’d like to take you up to the university, Mitsuhide. If that’s alright. You can both come if you want to.”

“Oh! But I needed to run by the office for my job tomorrow! I wanted to give them my apologies for disappearing so suddenly, just when they offered me a position.” She bit her lip. “I guess it can wait though.”

“I can go with her to do that, if you want me to,” Miyake put in.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You two can run errands tomorrow while I satisfy the curiosity of some modern scholars.”

“Are you sure?” The chatelaine looked uneasy.

“I am.” Mitsuhide kissed her cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

After they made arrangements for the coming day, Mitsuhide and his little mouse trekked back to her flat, leaving Miyake and Sasuke to themselves. It wasn’t that he minded the company, but he wanted to have her to himself tonight.

They stopped at a ‘small’ grocery on the way home to pick up something for breakfast. While Mitsuhide had noticed the number of foodstalls, he had not considered an entire store with shelves full of food. He wanted to ask if this was normal, but one look at his little one’s face gave him the answer.

She was not surprised at all. With barely a glance at the stacks of fresh vegetables and fruits, she led him further into the store.

There were at least five types of vinegar, he noted. An assemblage of noodles that defied sense. Several types of rice. Beans. And a variety of things with names he couldn’t identify as food, all wrapped in bright packages. “Masamune would love this place,” Mitsuhide murmured.

“You think? Maybe we should bring him something back.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you thought of him just now.”

“He’s a -” Mitsuhide paused at the realization he was about to say friend. Not ally. Not colleague. Friend. He bit back the word and finished with, “man who loves his food.”

His little mouse didn’t appear to pick up on the omission. “He really is. And he wants everyone around him to enjoy it too.” She picked up a package of rice, then added, “I wish I was such a good cook.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Mitsuhide settled his palm lightly on her low back, reassuring.

She smiled wryly. “Says the man who doesn’t taste his food.”

“Kyubei thinks so too. And his taste buds work fine.”

“Mhmm. Kyubei would eat a pile of rocks and tell me it was delicious if he thought he was supposed to. But I appreciate the compliment.” She leaned against Mitsuhide and sighed. “I wonder how he’s doing right now.”

Mitsuhide considered. There were a number of things he wished he’d had time to tell Kyubei. And of course, he hadn’t counted on Azuchi being attacked but, “I’m sure he is well. Kyubei is resourceful, talented, and I’ve left him the tools he will need. You should worry less about him, and more about yourself.”

“What should I be worried about?”

He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. With his lips almost touching her ear, he murmured, “You should worry about what I will do if I don’t get you alone soon.”

His little one inhaled sharply, cheeks heating. Her eyes were bright and full of desire as she replied. “Then we’d better hurry.”

They got back to her flat soon after, and unpacked the groceries. With the last items put away, she sat in a kitchen chair and looked up at Mitsuhide shyly.

It never failed to amuse him how innocent she could be in moments like these. As if she couldn’t admit what she wanted no matter how badly she wanted it. Of course, he’d take full advantage.

“How should I use your bath, little mouse? Can you show me how it works?” Mitsuhide already had an idea, but what fun was that?

“Oh! Yes. Sure. It would be good to clean up.” She led him to her small bathing room. “This handle is hot. This one cold. And if you press this, it will activate the shower. Just be careful where you point the nozzle.”

Mitsuhide leaned over her, pressing close. “So this one is hot?” He turned the handle.

“Umm . . . yes but, I should probably . . . get out of the way . . . the bathroom isn’t big enough-”

“And this one is cold?” He turned the other handle.

She nodded. “Yes. So. Ah, first rinse off with . . . with the shower. And . . . and th-then fill . . .”

Her distraction was deeply amusing. Possibly caused by his breath on the back of her neck and the way her hips met his. Not that he was unaffected. The press of her hips against him was maddening. The slight friction of cloth, the denial of skin to skin touch he ached for. But this was his game, and he knew what came next. Delay only made victory all the sweeter. Mitsuhide pressed the shower, and water fell like warm rain over them.

“Mitsuhide!” She gave a little shriek as he pulled her to standing under the flow. Her clothes clung to her skin, revealing as much as they hid. He could not wait to peel them off her.

“Oh dear. What have I done? Now you’re all wet!” He smiled widely and slid his hand under her shirt, popping the buttons open one after another.

She playfully swatted his other hand as he reached for her skirt. “You totally did that on purpose! I know you did!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” Mitsuhide slid her shirt off and enjoyed the sight of water pearling over the rise of her breast. Her soaked bra looked a deeper blue than it had when dry. A good color for her. His hands slipped around behind her, reaching for the clasp.

“You know, if you wanted to bathe together, you could have just said so.”

“Mmm, but this was more fun.” His fingers fumbled with the odd hook-and-eye catches, finally releasing them. Her bra fell away. Mitsuhide relished the sight. “You should probably help me get the rest of these clothes off. I’m fairly certain you don’t bathe wearing them in this age.”

She laughed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “My wicked kitsune. No. We don’t.” And then she kissed him.

***

Kyubei frowned at the short, dark-haired man in front of him. “You can cut the act, Ranmaru. I’d recognize you anywhere. Besides, your work on that scar is atrocious. Who taught you disguises? Were they blind?”

The page - spy and ninja as well - sighed and set down the basket he was carrying. “I thought the scar was pretty good. It really changes my face. What gave it away?”

“Your fingers are still stained with beetjuice, for one. And you didn’t blend the edges well enough. I can see bits of raw paste at your hairline.”

“Well damn. Alright. You caught me. Are you here to kill me?” Ranmaru’s tone was light, joking, but there was nothing funny about the way his fingers curled around the hilt of the short blade he wore at his hip.

Kyubei rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I came to find out what you know - and how you know it. Are you willing to have a conversation with me?” He left out the alternative, which was knocking the page senseless, dragging him back to Azuchi, and putting him in the dungeon. He wanted to avoid that outcome. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Alright. Fine. But you’re buying us something to eat. I’m starving!”

“I can do that.” He led the page out of the alley they were in - a spot chosen in case things got ugly - and back into a market street. Kyoto was full of people selling things. He had his pick of at least a dozen stalls and shops for food, but made a beeline for one in particular. The proprietor was one of Mitsuhide’s informants, someone Kyubei could trust if this chat went sideways.

The two men sat down at a back table and ordered sake and food. Ranamru’s preference for sweet things had not changed in his absence. They were getting stewed peaches, peaches with rice, and peach-jelly stuffed mochi. Not to Kyubei’s taste at all, but then, he hadn’t come here for the food.

“What do you know about the attack on Azuchi?” Kyubei wasted no time getting to the point.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Would you believe I didn’t know it was going to happen?”

“No.”

The page giggled. It was a high, false sound with no real mirth. “Well, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I really didn’t know that was coming. I knew something was . . . my - my Master was working with some people. And they were coming to Azuchi so I knew they had something in mind. I thought . . .”

Ranmaru’s throat bobbed, stuck on the words. He looked away and wiped at his face.

Kyubei sighed. “So you weren’t sure what was planned. What did you think might happen? Is that what made you run?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and he hadn’t looked up. “I thought . . . maybe they would try to kill him. Nobunaga. A direct attack. Or, poison? I - I didn’t want . . . but I was . . .”

“You were afraid they might ask for your help. Or participation.” Kyubei’s voice was pitched low, for Ranmaru’s ears only. This was not a subject to be discussed lightly.

The page nodded.

“So you ran.”

He nodded again.

Kyubei rubbed the short growth of hair on the top of his head. It was coming in, full and dark, but it itched some days. Especially after spending time on the road, with no rest. Touching it had become a habit for him when he was anxious or unhappy. This conversation was not making him happy.

“I didn’t want to be the one to - you know. Nobunaga has - he’s always been good to- to me. I thought, let them do their own dirty work. I would g-go back to Kennyo. Offer to be, to do a-anything else.” Ranmaru finally looked up. His expression was one of abject misery.

“I don’t blame you. It can be hard to serve two masters. Even when their goals usually align . . . often the methods do not.”

Ranmaru smiled bleakly. “I guess you understand a little.”

The tea and sweets came, and for a brief few minutes, the two men ate and drank in silence.

Finally, Kyubei asked, “So why aren’t you with Kennyo now?”

“I can’t find him. I know he’s working with . . .” Ranmaru’s jaw clenched. “I can’t say. But, I don’t know where they went. Or what they are planning next.”

“I need you to tell me the names, Ranmaru. Assume that I already know them, and from you, I only need confirmation.”

“Fine. Then you say them. I’ll nod if you’re right.”

Kyubei smiled. “Kicho.”

Nod.

“Motonari.”

Nod.

“The ‘shogun’ in exile.”

Nod.

“I was hoping the last one was a no. We worked so hard to set that boy up, but I suppose Yoshiaki’s allies got to him.” Kyubei took a deep breath. “And you really have no idea what they will do next?” He watched Ranmaru for tell-tale signs of a lie.

“I wish I did. I’d find Kennyo and get him away from those stray dogs.” The page almost spat.

“So what will you do now?”

Ranmaru tugged at his darkened locks, twisting them around his finger. “I don’t know. I am afraid to return to Nobunaga’s side. Afraid they will ask me to betray him. But that makes me a traitor to my Master. I am damned either way.” His voice was flat, empty of self-pity or any other emotion.

“You could work for me.”

The page raised an eyebrow. “You know I turned on both my masters. That I am a coward. What would you trust me with?”

“Well, not disguises, clearly.” Kyubei caught the curl of a slight smile on Ranmaru’s lips. “I’d want you to gather information from the daimyo loyal to the shogun. Nothing to do with either of your masters directly. No need to dig yourself a deeper grave.”

“I’d report everything to the Ikko Ikki too.”

Kyubei shrugged. “I’m fine with that? If Kenny’s monks act on the information, I doubt it will be to prop Ashikaga up further.”

Ranmaru chewed at his lip, thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I guess I can do that. Just until I find where Kennyo has gone and what he needs of me.”

“Then we have a deal. But I do have one more question before I leave you.”

“What?” The page eyed him, suspicious again.

Kyubei tapped his finger on the table, almost afraid of his own question. Asking it would be giving information away, but he needed to know. “Have you seen or heard from Akechi since the night of the attack on Azuchi?”

Next: Uncomfortable Questions

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.  

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart. 

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.  

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would. 

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up.  The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become? 

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.  

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that. 

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room. 

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way. 

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!  

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend* 

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron. 

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck. 

Lying Is Forbidden 

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.) 

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q:  Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month? 

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues. 

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family. 

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude. 

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge. 

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure. 

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing. 

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him.  This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on. 

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her.  He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you.  Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for. 

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him. 

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return. 

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed. 

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up. 

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood. 

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him. 

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation. 

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack. 

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them.  I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.  

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price. 

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him. 

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants. 

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Broken, battered, and beautiful-chapter 2

if you haven’t go check out chapter 1

 “Oh hi.” even in the privacy of her own home elain was clothed in a fine dress made of satin, the color of sunflowers with a high neckline. Gwyn tried to muster up embarrassment for her own plain outfit that most definitely could have been mistaken for sleep wear, but she couldn’t find the energy to care.  

“Hello, um I wanted to come by to say thank you for the other day.” Gwyn felt awkward and uncomfortable, this female had done nothing to wrong her and yet it was difficult to let the protective and territorial instincts go. Azriel was not hers, it was a mantra she replayed in her mind over and over. The words a double edge sword encouraging her to move on with a torturous truth. 

“It’s no worry, I never would have left you on the ground at night” elain smiled warmly, “and besides nesta would have my head if something had happened to you.” gwyn gave her a tight smile, the most she could force herself to manage. 

They stood in an unpleasant silence, the only sound being the soft anxious tapping of gwyns hand on her thigh, a nervous tick she had yet to break. thankfully after a couple dreadfully long seconds elain spoke, “would you like to come in?” 

Gwyn let out a sigh of relief and gave a slight nod of her head. She then followed Elain into her home. As Gwyn's eyes roamed the place she felt as if she had stepped into the spring court, or what it used to look like, she supposed from what Feyre had told her about its current state. 

Elain must have noticed her curious glance at the windows stretching from ceiling to floor with the sun blazing through them, “when I was looking for an apartment I wanted as much sunlight as possible,” she paused to reposition one of her many many plants. “For me” she paused once again, taking in the almost overwhelming amount of blossoms. “And the flowers. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a slight obsession with greenery.” 

“Slight is a modest term.” gwyn noted. She laughed. The sound was sweet and full and covered the room in a joy that could not be masked. Gwyn wished she could say she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like that, but she had. Darkness coated the once joyous memorie, infecting it with anger and malice. Pain was soon to follow but Gwyn shoved it down, pressing a lid on her emotions, better to feel nothing at all then the heartbreak of what she had lost.

Elain quickly picked up a few scattered papers on her table and pulled out a seat for gwyn. “Would you like some tea? Emerie gave me a few samples but I haven’t had the chance to try them yet.” 

“I would recommend the strawberry green tea, personally I think it’s her best, though most of them are… editable.” 

She raised an eyebrow “most?”

“Well for Emerie's sake I’ll let you form your own opinions but between you and me, I’d keep a safe distance from the lemon ginger.” 

Elain looked amused. “I will keep that in mind.” 

gwyn watched as elain made the tea quietly humming to herself. She set down the cup in front of her, “one strawberry green tea.” Gwyn gave a nod of gratitude before quickly realizing that that was a poor response. God had she lost her manners along with her dignity. 

“Thank you.” 

Once again silence fell over them, the conversation they had both known gwyn had come for hung in the air, hovering, waiting for a moment to strike. But Gwyn had made a promise to Catrin, a promise to her found sisters, and a promise to herself that she would be brave. 

“What happened between you and azriel?” she blurted. Elain took a deep breath before answering, everything about her expression and posture, unsurprised by the question. 

“In order to really understand, I would have to start from the beginning. Are you positive you want to hear the truth?”

No. yes. No.  She did not want to hear, she desperately did not want to hear but she had to know. “Yes.” 

Elain nodded, “It’s been about four years since I became fae and the subject still isn’t my-favorite, but four years ago I was engaged to a man named grayson. Looking back he was truly dreadful and a little bit of a tool. But I was in love, or.” Elain’s cheeks flushed slightly. “what I thought was love. He truly hated the fae and when I became the one thing he hated more than he loved me, his love quickly became fear and his fear fueled his hatred. I was dependent on others, in more ways than one. And with my world being literally and figuratively turned upside down, the one person who was supposed to love and support me through it all, abandoned me without hesitation. Although the argument could be made that I was coddled my entire life and this was a much needed wake up call.” Elain paused, letting out a shaky breath. 

“If this is too difficult for you we can stop.” As much as Gwyn needed to hear this story she would not force Elain to relive her trauma. 

“I owe it to you and to my sister to avoid bad blood between us and if telling you this story is what it takes, then that is the least I can do.” She took a sip of her tea. “Now I knew I had just lost who I thought was the love of my life and then I was forced into the hands of another.” 

Her stepbrother, she thought. “Lucien.” 

“Yes,” elain smiled fondly. “He was my breaking point. All I wanted was to collapse into myself, to pretend that I was still human. But with him I couldn't. He was a walking reminder of everything I hated about myself. The only thing that haunted me more than him was my own reflection. I thought that if I avoided him I could ignore the magnetic pull that drew me to him.” She looked down and bit her lip. “Denial was a personal favorite of mine.” 

Gwyn raised her eyebrows. “I can tell.” she watched as color flooded her cheeks and Gwyn's lips twitched. 

“But it was proving to be a little more difficult than I had expected. And then there was this dark, attractive male who seemed to be intrigued by me. He was kind and he was there so I forced myself to believe I had genuine feelings for him, that I desperately wanted him.” Gwyn's stomach lurched but she forced it down. “He was a perfect distraction, there were these small moments where our fingers would brush or I would find him looking at me as if he desired me. I needed so badly to believe that this was what I wanted and yet I felt nothing. I thought that becoming fae had broken me. I made up my mind that if I kissed him, the feeling I craved would come. So at solstice, when I knew there was no way for him to avoid me, I gave myself an opening and waited until after dinner to give him his gift. He gave me a necklace and kissed my neck. We were moments away from, well you know, when he left very suddenly. I was confused and a little bit hurt and I still felt nothing. So I followed him, and well” elain let out a bitter laugh. “Let's just say Azriel said some rude things.” 

Gwyn’s face was one of constant shock as elain told her the shadowsinger’s conversation with the high lord of the night court. “The only thing he could say about you was Three Brothers, Three Sisters?!?”. 

“Yep.” 

“He thought he was entitled to you because his brothers were mated to your sisters?!? Even though you had a mate??” 

“Exactly” 

“And you guys were so not on the same page, you guys weren’t even in the same gods damn book.” 

She laughed. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t communicate.” Gwyn's thoughts were a cage of her own making, one she couldn’t escape. She was outraged on behalf of elain, how dare azriel make some sort of claim on her, she was not a toy to be passed around. But she couldn’t help but think first Mor than Elain, what the hell was she to him? Had it all been a game of pretty words and sweet lies? Was she just one of many? 

“Anyway, I decided that the distraction wasn’t worth putting myself through whatever was going on with him so I gave him back the necklace. I assume that he saw you sometime that night or in the next few days because I saw you with the necklace a couple weeks later. I know that I did not have the right to be upset considering I gave it back but, for me, it confirmed that my decision was the right one.” 

Azriel had, in fact, come to her that night Gwyn thought back to solstice 2 years ago. It was the first time she had been alone with him, It was the first time she'd been alone with any male since.

 “Azriel and I barely spoke or interacted since solstice when a couple weeks ago, when I was shopping in town I saw him so drunk he could barely walk. I’d seen him with you a couple times and it seemed like he had changed so I went to go help him and he tried to kiss me. I slapped him and walked away. The next day he came by my apartment and begged me not to tell you. I told him I owe him nothing and closed the door in his face.”. She didn’t owe Gwyn anything either and yet she still defended her. “I then told Nesta what had happened and asked her to tell you.” elain took another sip of tea. “I thought it would have been better if it came from her.” 

Gwyn watched elain, even doing something as mundane as drinking her tea, in this house, she looked more peaceful and in her element as she had ever seen her. Gwyn was also positive this was the most she had ever heard her talk and despite a part of her still wanting to rip her head off, she was grateful for the female and she was sympathetic for what she had gone through, and she was embarrassed for not seeing this side of azriel. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A puzzled look graced elain’s face. “What for?”

“For what you went through, for whatever part I played in your pain.” she chuckled at that. 

“You did nothing wrong, besides if anyone should be apologizing it should be me.” 

Gwyn snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“How about it should be azriel apologizing to the both of us.”

“Deal”

elain looked out the window. “Oh speaking of solstice, I have to do my gift shopping.” she glanced at Gwyn, something in her gaze she couldn’t detect, maybe pity, maybe spite from an old grudge, maybe it was genuine, maybe a mix. Whatever it was made her ask, “would you like to come with me?”

And even if it was pity or spite, even if all elain saw was a broken toy in need of saving, she said “yes.”

tagging: @stars-and-scripts  @valkygwyn @em---r @whereisvaughan @purplecherrypie @lattristantketchup @bookish-isha @meher-sumedha @jennysofoldstone @ratabrasileira 

[imagine-darksiders]

Just like. Head canons. For our lovely Dad Guys. Whoever you want. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just. The Fluff Beast. 😫 Getting too strong...! Help! (I’m sorry 😂 Seriously, just do whatever you want. It’ll be beautiful and I’ll love it regardless)

Well, I’ve had this little Eidad fic on the back burner for a while now, sitting in my drafts and not doing a while lot. This seems like a good time to post it <3 <3 <3 

It’s a sick fic. Nothing too drastic, just an old maker getting worried about his human friend. 

---

Eideard has always been an especially unflappable maker, a trait that tends to come with the territory of being the village elder.

He never gets flustered, and he always maintains the poise and composure expected of him.

Unless, of course, one of his fellow makers is under threat. Only then, by his own admission, does decorum fly out of the proverbial window and little else but worry takes over him, mind, body and soul.

Recently, he's come to discover that the same rule applies to a very specific, little human.

----

“I'm cold.”

That ought to have been their first clue.

You're sitting in the maker's forge, seemingly content to remain still and quiet beside the roaring fire whilst Alya and her brother, Valus, are hard at work at their anvil.

“Cold?” the former twin laughs incredulously, glancing up from the sword she's forging to turn and fix you with a raised brow, “You're sittin' close enough to that fire!”

Her brother though, always the more perceptive of the siblings, ambles around her and makes his way towards you, tugging at the green cowl that sits around his neck. You may be vastly smaller than him, but even behind that visor, he can see the shivers you're trying to suppress. Blinking, you watch him as he bends onto one knee in front of you and holds his treasured garment out, uttering a low, almost undetectable whine.

“I'm okay, big guy,” you murmur, sounding far from it, “Think I've just got a bit of a chill.”

At that, Valus doesn't wait for you to reach up and take the cowl from his grasp and instead, with a huff, he leans forward to drape it around your shoulders, his thick fingers tucking it up underneath you as carefully as he can. Once he's finished, he sits back on his haunches to inspect you, satisfied when you snuggle further into the fabric and give him a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Pacified, the burly maker returns your smile with a nod and pushes himself onto his feet, turning back to his sister and the anvil.

With their attention elsewhere, you allow your smile to fade, burying your face into Valus's scarf. 

You're loathe to tell them the whole truth, that accompanying your chills is a raw throat that feels as though it's been rubbed tender by sandpaper, and an ache in your limbs that only grows worse and worse by the hour.

There's no denying it.

You've come down with something.

At the very least, the makers don't know a lot about human biology, so you're relatively hopeful that you'll be able to pass this off as a mundane occurrence – definitely not anything they should be worrying about.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the giants, one that came about the moment they first laid eyes on you – a small, cowering little thing whose world had been destroyed only a few days prior.

The rule, never spoken aloud, yet understood by all, is that you are a youngling – despite your insistence to the contrary – and younglings are to be protected, especially those who have yet to reach their first century of life. 

It also doesn't help that you're a human, and consequently only stand about as high as the makers' knees.

But for as endeared to you as they all are, there are none who are quite so taken as Eideard.

The village Shaman, Muria, speculates that their elder has seen more younglings and friends die off over the centuries than any of them, and thusly, that's where his protective tendencies stem from.

Thane, on the other hand, attests that Eideard has always been enormously tender-hearted, long before grief softened his edges. 

If he were to find out that you're sick, you can't imagine he'd take it well.

Bottom line? You'd hate to worry him.

Unfortunately for you, there are some things that can't be kept from a group of watchful makers.

It's impossible to hide glassy eyes, tremors that rattle your whole body and a sudden, explosive sneeze that causes both Alya and Valus to jump out their skin, tools clattering to the stony ground.

“Stone's blood! Bit of warnin' before you go makin' noises like that, please!” Alya exclaims, resting a hand over her heart whilst Valus hurries over to you again.

“It was just a sneeze,” you try to protest, but the forge brother isn't buying it. Without a word, which isn't unusual, he clenches his fists and heaves himself about on a heel, marching purposefully towards the forge's entrance, deaf to his sister calling after him.

“Oi, Valus? Where are you off to?”

It's hardly a surprise that she doesn't get a response.

He disappears through the doors and you share a look with his sister, who hesitantly asks, “You.. sure you're okay?”

The fake smile you plaster on your face is apparently as unconvincing as it feels, judging by the flat look you receive from Alya in response. 

A few moments later, the doors swing open once again and your ears pick up two pairs of resounding footsteps thumping through the forge.

Valus appears first, lumbering up the short flight of steps onto the raised dais where he's soon followed by the second maker, a particularly concerned-looking Eideard.

As soon as the elder's pale, grey eyes lock onto you, you slump forwards in defeat, any hope of riding this illness out in privacy now dashed. Of all the makers in Tri Stone, Eideard is the most well-versed in anthropology.

Shooting Valus a glare for his betrayal, you swallow your cough and groan, “Valus, I told you, I’m okay. You didn't need to bother Eideard.”

“I for one, am very glad he did.” From underneath his bushy, furrowed brows, the old maker studies you closely until you duck your head, weighed down by the heaviness of his stare, the whole while, your throat burns with the need to cough. Then, in a blink, his eyes widen again and the fingers clutched around his golden staff turn white as he breathes, “You're sick...”

At once, Alya shoots upright from where she'd been leaning casually against the anvil. “Sick!?” she blurts, her gaze snapping between you and her elder, “Why didn't you say somethin'?!”

“Because!” you argue, hating that Eideard’s face now appears almost twice its age thanks to the worry lines permeating his forehead, “It's not a big de-” As fate would have it, the raw spot at the back of your throat finally chooses its moment, and before you can stop yourself, you're lurching forwards into a vicious cough that burns at the tenderness like acid, bringing tears to your eyes and shame onto your clammy cheeks.

You become vaguely aware of a vast hand coming to rest on your back and fingers that pat you gently until you can catch your breath. Even after you've hacked yourself silly, you push Eideard's silken, blue sleeve away and try to get to your feet, hoping that if they see you standing, they'll be less inclined to fret. But the moment you begin to move, the same hand is cupping around your trembling body and you find yourself being lifted up and nestled against a broad chest by a maker who is wholly undeterred by your feeble resistance. 

“I'm not a baby, Eideard!” you complain, trying to wriggle free as the maker presses delicately on your chest, forcing you to lay across his forearm, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.”

“Easy, now. You'll only hurt yourself further if you keep that up,” he rumbles in a tone that's far too gentle for your pride to withstand.

Embarrassed, you wilt down behind his fingers when you hear Alya's stifled giggles, but the old maker doesn't pay her any mind, simply turns away from the anvil and begins to shuffle down the steps, heading for the entrance. Almost immediately, you miss the fire's warmth and Eideard feels your shivers turn violent, his heart seizing at the sound of your teeth chattering together like rapid gunfire.

“You – you're not going outside, are you?” you croak, pulling Valus's cowl up to your neck, “It's freezing!”

“The weather is perfectly mild. You, on the other hand, are burning hotter than forge-fire.”

You open your mouth to protest but find yourself cut off when he continues, “I’ll not have this sickness turning into something worse. We may belong to separate species, but I wasn't born yesterday. A little fresh air will do you some good.”

“Ugh. You sound like my mum.”

His reply comes in the form of an affectionate, rumbling chuckle that you can feel travelling up through his palm and into your bones. Letting out a final huff, you flop backwards and turn limp in his hand.

It isn’t as though you can fight your way out of the Old One's grip, after all. For such an ancient maker, Eideard is powerful, and his age does little to detract from that strength. The meagre resistance you put up is also proven ineffective by the silken softness of the fur trim on his sleeves that you run between your fingers.

Perhaps if you'd been looking at Eideard's expression instead of the doors as he pushes them open, you'd take notice of the disquiet lingering at the edge of his eyes.

He plans on taking you to see Muria in the hopes that she might have a remedy that can alleviate the fever spreading through your delicate body, and, failing that, he will sit with you in the peace of the night air and keep you still and safe until your tremors cease and his old heart stops trying to beat its way out of his ribcage.

You're more than welcome to resent him for this, he muses quietly, but after seeing so many of his people lost to corruption, it isn't such an easy feat to quell the pervasive anxiety that writhes like an impatient, snarling beast in his stomach, and he would much rather endure your resentment if it means keeping you out of harm’s way.

The village elder is supposed to protect his own, and glancing down at you and seeing that you've buried your face into the fabric of his robe to escape the cold, Eideard realises with a sudden surge of paternal drive, that you fall under the scope of those he considers 'his.'

The old maker clutches you possessively against his chest and hurries as well as his tired legs can carry him up towards the Shaman's gazebo, knowing that his soul will never know peace until you’re well once again.