#I believe we can use that skill to our advantage

[yawnderu]

I love how you describe könig<3!!

So can I ask your opinion on how könig would be during the battlefield, training and well... at his house (alone?)

Yeah some headcanons of our mountain man🫶🏻

Thank u so much love!! God, I love König fhfjhbf

If we go based on his voice lines,

König is extremely cocky. He knows full well how his size and skill give him a clear advantage over the enemies, and he's not afraid to use that.

He's (un)surprisingly blood-thirsty. He mocks his enemies when they die or are unable to take him down, and it's clear in his voice and the things he says that he does not care about their lives in the slightest. Enemies are simply targets that he will take down no matter what.

You'll notice this man's presence in a room before you even hear him. Not only he's a behemoth of a man, he's also so confident a cocky that the way he handles himself lets it be known. Have you seen that way he points and stands? This man radiates confidence.

He's a complete beast on the battlefield, sadistic and focused on one thing: taking down the enemy.

At his house and alone? He's way more chill, though I like to believe he keeps himself busy. Working out, cleaning knives, even working on making new masks since his can easily get ruined as it is a t-shirt.

He's pretty chill when alone imo, and with a s/o? God, this man is clingy and always has to be touching his girlfriend. Holding hands, cuddling, an arm around her shoulders... he's so touch starved that he enjoys even the smallest displays of affection. His partner is a complete break from his chaotic life as a soldier, someone he can come home to and relax with, his safe haven.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.

Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 9,251

Route 666

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.

I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.

Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.

“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.

“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”

“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.

“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”

“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”

“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”

“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”

He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”

I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.” 

I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”

“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.

“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.

The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.

An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.

Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here. 

Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.

He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.

His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.

“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.

Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room. 

Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.

“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.

She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.

“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?

“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were. 

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.” 

Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”

I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.

It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.

“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.” 

“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.

As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”

“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.

“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”

The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.” 

We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?” 

Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”

Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…” 

He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.

Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!

“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.” 

“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?

I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.

I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.

He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.

I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.

But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.

Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.

I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.

How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.

I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.

I love him and it hurts so much.

How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.

I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.

“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.

“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic. 

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”

“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates. 

“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”

“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”

Wow, what a lovely guy.

“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.

“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.

“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.

“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you” Sam nods.

We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”

“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”

“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.

“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.

Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.” 

He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”

“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”

I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?

“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”

Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.

I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket. 

Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.

I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become. 

“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came. 

I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods. 

“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.

“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.

“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”

I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”

I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.

I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”

The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”

“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”

“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”

His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.

“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone. 

“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.

“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.

“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.

“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”

Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself. 

This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves. 

Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.

I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”

She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.

The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?” 

She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murder,” Sam voices.

Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.

Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.

A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.” 

“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.

“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.

I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”

I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”

Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out. 

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.

“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges. 

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs. 

“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes. 

“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”

His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”

Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs. 

Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.

I drop my eyes again. 

Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad. 

Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me. 

“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.

I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.

We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up. 

The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.” 

The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.

“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”

I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.

His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one. 

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.

We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.

A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted. 

“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back. 

“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.

 “So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

 I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.

His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”

I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”

I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.” 

Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?” 

I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”

He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”

“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”

“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”

“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.

“Yes!”

A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!” 

“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”

“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.

“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”

“Ok turn left.”

“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds. 

“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.

“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats. 

“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–” 

“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”

“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.

“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.

The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”

“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.

“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies. 

“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.

“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”

Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”

“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.

I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want. 

Life was being really unfair and uncool.

I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.

What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.

I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now. 

No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.

No. I was wrong.

Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.

I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.

I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.

“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.

“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look. 

I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.

Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.

We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.

[thissying]

interview with Gianni Vecchio, about Max

In the meantime, for five years now Vecchio has been part of Verstappen's sim racing team, which got an extra Verstappen-mark last year by it becoming part of Verstappen.com Racing. When he got the invitation in 2018, he could barely believe it. "It was bizar, I was a bit starstruck to be honest," Vecchio begins his exclusive interview with Motorsport.com. "But through the years we've built a sort of friendship. It's not that we see him as a Formula 1 driver all the time, we see him more as a Team Redline team mate. We spend a lot of time together, we practice together a lot. But we also have a lot of fun. It's not just sim racing. We play FIFA together a lot, we play Call of Duty a lot, we play games like Among Us. A friendship has developed. We share a lot of the same interests. It's cool to have someone like him as your team mate, but also as a friend because he keeps pushing you. That's the most important thing in sim racing and sports in general. So yeah, that's not so bad, it's always good to have someone who pushes you."

Not only in the simulator does Verstappen turn out to be competitive, in FIFA he also regularly defeats his Team Redline team mates. "Max wants to be the best in everything he does," Vecchio knows from experience. "He has a few friends in FIFA eSports, named Team Gullit. He plays with them, so he gets tips on the skills he can perform. He's in it completely. When he plays, he's crazy about FIFA. He's the best because he puts the most time in it and has access to the best players," the sim racer laughs.

For Team Redline that mentality is actually one of the big advantages of having Verstappen as a team mate, states Vecchio. "Like I said, it's about having someone who pushes you. If he sees you're making an effort and you really show you want to advance the team and yourself and that you have the same goal of winning everything as he does, then he's one of the best people you can meet," Vecchio praises the two time world champion. "He gives a lot. It's incredible to have someone like that, who pushes you, gives you tips and is also a sort of mentor."

Team Redline has created a safe space for all sim racers and real life racers so they can communicate with each other. That's also why Vecchio considers himself a friend of Verstappen. "It's not like we see each other often during the year, but fact is we are in touch every day.

We send messages to each other and are in voice chat channels. We talk about what's going on in his life but he's also interested in what happens in our lives. He continues to ask what we do, what's on the calendar, what we're doing. That's pretty cool. You know there's someone on the other end who cares about you. Talking to him is like talking to a good friend. It's like we developed a friendship, we know that there's trust and respect for each other. That's something that helps us very much in the team, to have a safe space. It's just great to have that."

And yet, it's not only a positive thing to have Verstappen as a team mate. It happens sometimes that the Dutchman sets a fastest lap in no-time with very little practice. "I wouldn't say it's a bad thing, but sometimes it can be annoying!" Vecchio laughs. "He'll come back from a Formula 1 weekend and we let him know what combination [car and circuit] we're driving. Within five minutes Max Verstappen is P1. And I'm like: 'What's happening here? What am I doing wrong?' He's annoyingly adept at everything he does. I wouldn't say it's irritating but it is something that gets on my nerves sometimes!", he jokes.

On the other hand, Vecchio knows that it's because of his skills that Verstappen makes a good team mate. He's therefore learned a lot from the Red Bull Racing driver in his five years at Ream Redline. "Keep pushing yourself, never give up and even if you're not at 100 percent, then try to find the other one or two percent," the sim racer cites as examples of the things he learned from Verstappen. "Keep pushing beyond your limits in sim racing. Stay focused, keep chasing your goals and stay motivated in everything you do," he rounds off the list.

That's how a lot of knowledge came to the sim racers, but have they been able to teach Verstappen some things? "That's hard to say," laughs Vecchio. "Racing-wise he's a complete driver, he knows what to do in every car. It's not that he's only good in a Formula 1 car, sometimes he tests a GT-car and he's incredible in that, too. As far as racing is concerned, we couldn't teach him very much." Still, Vecchio can name one thing, although that's more to do with the principles of sim racing. "At first, he wasn't a sim racer like we are. We had to explain a little how it works when it comes to managing traffic in multi-class races. Maybe that was something we could teach him a little, but we benefit a lot from him, more than he does from us," the Italian German points out.

That's why Vecchio emphasises that Verstappen's influence on the team should not be underestimated. "It's incredible, really insane. It's like a crane lifting an 8 tons object, that's how I see it. He pushes us, creates opprtunities for us with Heineken, Red Bull, Verstappen.com... He pushes us to the limit because he sees the talent in us. He is like a mentor, he wants to help everyone move forward. It's incredible and cool to see, but the same goes for Atze [Kerkhof, team manager], for everyone in the team. We push each other, but Max is the one who really gives that last 10 percent extra when it comes to pushing.

Because of his busy F1 schedule, Verstappen can't always be found in the simulator. The Dutchman likes spending his free time sim racing and so takes part in special events like 12h Bathurst or 24h Le Mans. Even when he can't participate in those races, he'll be busy behind the scenes to support Team Redline, Vecchio reveals. "Call me crazy, but it's insane. Max has a gaming laptop with all the simulator games: F1, iRacing, anything. When he has time... and call me crazy but it happens every week like that! We're at home with a steering wheel and pedals and he's doing it with a controller. A controller, iRacing, a simulation game, very difficult... Even though he can't really give us feedback, he tries what he can to help us ahead. So it doesn't matter if he's on the road or at home. It doesn't matter. Whatever he has scheduled, he'll practice with us - even if he can't race with us. It doesn't matter to him because he wants to help the team forward. That says it all."

Even though the controller doesn't give nearly the same feedback as a steering wheel and pedals, Verstappen, even on a controller, is hardly inferior to his Team Redline team mates. "It's insane. I always thought talent is in the legs and arms but he even has it in his fingers!" As an example, Vecchio cites the preparation for iRacing's 24h Spa, which was held in the same weekend as the Hungarian GP. "We did a race and he was only three tenths slower! On a controller, compared to us. Can you imagine? Three tenths, on a controller, for an entire stint! It's not over one lap, but several laps. That's bizarre."

[chattaboochel]

Fluid Hearts | Chapter 1

My Ego Awakens

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, smut (eventually) , harem x afabOC.

Words: 5.4k

Tags (Open): @hellothere9597

“Anri, come look at this”, Anri wasn’t expecting Ego of all people wanting to show her something out of his own volition.

“What is it- who’s this?”, Ego had already started playing footage from which he collected earlier. “A diamond in the rough.”

Anri watches as the video displays a black and blue haired soccer player, their physical build didn’t look too much out of the ordinary, noting their pierced ears and a nasty looking scar that cut directly into their brow.

“Why are you-” Anri stops her self as she watches the mystery player being to display exceptional abilities on the soccer field, the woman specifically observing how they moved their body and utilised it to their advantage. Each of their movements were fluid, graceful, but strong and controlled. “Incredible. Those plays, their form! Wow!”

“Potential that is wasted within that mediocre team.” Ego gruffly states, his hands in front of him as he tosses Anri the players file.

“Hisaya Sora, only 17 and already so talented-“

“Hisaya Kazumas youngest daughter.”

Anri knew that name, having to brush up on many different star athletes for this job. “Kazumas child? No wonder they’re so- wait… daughter?”

“It took you that long to figure it out?”

“What- I didn’t even think-“

“That’s because you have the brain of a simpleton Anri.”

“Ugh you’re impossible. Where did you even get this footage anyway.”

Ego barely acknowledges Anri, still going over Soras impressive performance in the video, especially when she seemlessly steals the ball off a mid fielder , her form sliding to the ground in one movement and she gets herself back up in the next moment. “Her coach Tak- whatever his name is , records each of her games , apparently she watches each video to asses her skills.”

“And he just gave it to you?”

“With some incentive.”

“Jeez…”, She sweat drops, the less she knew the better. “but this kid is certainly something-“

“I want a Bluelock invitation sent to her, today.”

“What?”, she gasps, pausing the video to look at the unphased Ego. “I agree this girl is talented but with all due respect , the program is for us to create the next male striker. She can’t participate, it would be a breach of the rules.”

“This is why our country has never excelled within the bracket, we follow the rules, procedures. How can we expect to dominate the other teams if we just stick to what we know? Where’s the risk that brings the highest of all rewards.”

“But sir, the board surely will not approve-“

“I believe an exception can be made.”

~

“Hey sis I’m home!”

Sora kicked open open the door with an exhausted sigh, trudging through her shared apartment. She lazily chucked her sports bag across from her with thunk.

“Yiri!!! Where are-”

Hisaya Yiri, Soras older sister and current guardian. Yiri made her living writing short stories for a nearby library so most of her time is spent fussing over her stories in her work tablet.

Yiri stumbles out the kitchen with a huff, her long black hair tied loosely in a low pony, “You know using the door knob instead of kicking the door open is just as effect- and for the last time don’t just leave your bag there!”

“What’s wrong with there?”

Yiri scowls, adjusting her glasses before crossing her arms. “Does this look like your bedroom?”

“No I’m not blind sis, it’s the living room.”, she brushes her off, flopping onto one of the couches. “Exactly, therefore your bag should maybe go , oh I don’t know, in your room?”

“Yeah probably.” Sora moves her hand around , looking for the remote of their tv but finding something else instead. “Hey isn’t this your tablet? That’s not in ,you know, your room?”

Sora smirked as she held up her sisters work device that she just saved from the dark casims that existed between her couch. Yiri mumbled something under her breath, hiding her embarrassment. “You- ugh, you get this one and only this one okay.”

“Yeah I know.” Sora hands over Yiris prized tablet before she popped a blood vessel, trying not to enjoy her sisters frustration too much.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah yeah”, Sora laughs and wraps her arm around her sister, giving her a brief side hug before resuming her position on the couch.

Yiri softly smiled at her, no matter how much Sora aggravated her to no end, she loved her. “Oh ! A letter came for you in the mail, I left it up in your room. Now go wash up before dinner, you fucking reek.”

“Oh thanks. It’s not like I didn’t just come from a game.” Sora pretends she doesn’t she the way Yiris face contorts at the mention of soccer, choosing to roll her eyes as she starts rushing up the stairs.

“Sora.”

“What?”

Yiri groans, pointing to the discarded bag. “Forgetting something?”

~

Sora had been staring at the letter for 20 minuets, having to re read each sentence over and over again to make sure she hadn’t gone mad.

The Japanese Football Union.

‘You’ve been selected to become a certified athlete.’

She couldn’t believe it, that she had been sought out for her skills. Her hands flick through not one but two letters.

Dear Hisaya Sora.

As you can no doubt see you have been selected to take place in a very special program that I am heading myself.

This program will finally create a team worthy of entering and destroying the competition at the World Cup.

I sent you this invitation despite the fact you are one of the opposite sex, your potential is wasted in that team you play in and if you’re not completely idiotic you can too.

I’m taking a chance on you brat, don’t squander it.

Ego Jinpachi.

‘This would make everything worth it, everything dad drilled into me, every day in moms studio. It wouldn’t be for nothing.’

Fire lit within Soras heart, excitement and nervousness ignited with her body. Whoever Jinpachi was she promised that she would not squander this chance.

She just had to somehow break it to her sister…

~

Yiri didn’t come to see her off that morning, Soras older sister had a pension for the dramatics. Last nights argument made that clear.

‘I see him every time you play Sora! I just can’t support this! I won’t!’

‘You hate our father more than your care about your own sister!’

But she wouldn’t allow her sister to get in the way of this dream, in that fact maybe she was more like her father than she thought.

~

Sora wasn’t one for formal wear but it sure beat wearing a dumbass skirt. she did somewhat stick to her uniform by wearing the dress shirt and pants but forgoes the blazer to dawn her favourite black zip up hoodie.

She choose to keep her hood up , force of habit, tucking her hands into her jacket pocket as she rounded the corner of a building. She catches a look at two figures talking by the Japanese Football union sign.

‘That’s the one.’

Sora observes the two boys in particular, chatting with some familiarity but she deduced there wasn’t much of a sense of comraderie between the two. Aqqaintances at best.

“If we were on the same team you’d hit some amazing passes to me I’m sure.”

“O-Oh! Thank you.” The boy blushes at the compliment from the bright eyed boy. ‘His words are so condescending, like he can’t do more than pass to him…’ Sora frowned at the blonde kid, throwing her hood back as she walked toward them.

“Guessing you two got the letter right?”

The boys perk up at her voice, darting surprised looks at Sora as she leant against the wall beside the door of the building. “Uh hi!”

“Hey there, you too huh?”, Sora nods at the blonde, waiting for the other boy to calm down from his shock so could form a sentence. “Y-Yeah kinda crazy right?”, the black haired boy responds, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“Tell me about it. You mind me third wheeling with you guys?”

“Hey the more the merrier right? Im Kira Ryosuke. That’s Yoichi Isagi.”

“Hey.” He says with a little wave.

‘Hm cute.’ Sora looks at Isagi with a newfound interest as her fingers fiddle her piercings.

“Hisaya Sora but just call me Sora.”

Isagi takes in Soras appreance, short dark and rich black hair, the ends faded into a bright fluorescent blue, matching their clear crystal eyes. Her ears were decorated with black lined studs and rings, he wondered if Sora actually kept them in while they played soccer.

He noticed a particularly mean looking scar that was carved into their eyebrow, ending just atop Soras eye.

She could feel Isagi looking at her most prominent scar, she could always tell when someone was, she swallows an uncomfortable breath , looking away whilst clearing her throat .

‘Hisaya Sora, where have I heard that name before? Hisaya…… Hisaya….’ Isagi contemplates before it suddenly dawns on him, his mind replaying the days when he was a kid, watching the great legends of his favourite sport. ‘Hisaya Kazuma! Japans star player of the 90’s but that would mean this guy is his son.’

“Wait, that would make you related to Hisaya Kazuma! ”, Kira couldn’t contain his excitement, to think someone of Sora Hisayas class would be in a program with him, he thought it was an honour. “No way, You’re his son!”

Hisaya only nods in acknowledgment, her face stoic at this continued talk of her now deceased father. Isagis eyes seem to pick up on that, even though he’d love to grill the child of the great Kazuma Hisaya, one of his favourite athletes, he chose not to.

Sora appreciated Isagis tact, something Kira seemed to lack.

“He was incredible, no one could top him on the field but you already know that! You must be a prodigal son”

‘Hisayas son’

Thats what he was right? for some reason that didn’t feel right to Isagi. But what else could he be?

“Good thing my sister didn’t hear you say that. Now let’s go already, no one’s becoming a certified athlete by standing out here, freezing our asses off.”

“Shall we?” Kira extends his arm in an attempt to be curtious , Sora had to contain her eye roll .

‘Maybe I’m looking too far into it’, Isagi puts away his thoughts for now, following Kira and Hisaya toward the building. “Yes, please.”

“Oh c’mon, we don’t have to be all weird and formal with each other. I’m glad we met.”

Isagis cheeks lightly flush. “Me too.. and you as well Hisaya!”

“It’s Sora dimwit”, she flicks his forehead playfully with a giggle, Isagi gasps and rubbing his head with a shy grin. “R-Right!”

~

“They really grabbed anyone with a pulse for this.” The room was packed with people and they possibly had the weirdest haircuts Sora had ever seen, and here she thought she may have stood out.

“Yeah, I see some I recognise too.” Kira points out the few he knew, though Sora found herself not paying much mind to him. Kira’s presence was slowly starting to irk the girl, his impression outside was less than stellar.

‘Couldn’t hurt the scout out the competition I guess’ She recognised a few players, some she’d seen at school when they would visit for games, others she’d only seen online watching other tournaments but she couldn’t put names to the faces. They were a pain to remember.

‘Heh I sound like-’ She spots both a white head of hair and a purple one off in the distance. ‘Ha! Speak of the devil’ Sora wouldn’t mistake Seishiro Nagi and Mikage Reo for anyone else.

After all , she and Reo were childhood friends, curtesy of their mothers. She met Nagi in highschool and the three of them were inseparable. You’d never see one without the other two far behind.

After Soras father died, Yiri made the executive decision to move away so that meant transferring schools. Sora begged her sister to stay but her sister refused to budge, and there wasn’t much she could do against her legal guardian as a minor.

That didn’t stop her from keeping in contact with the two of them.

‘I should’ve figured those two would get an invite’, She thought with a quick laugh, ready to walk over to the duo before a voice cuts in.

“And test, test. Congratulations and welcome diamonds in the rough.” A spotlight shines on the stage ahead, revealing a man with black rimed glasses and a bowl cut to match. “You are the under 18 strikers who have been chosen by my arbitrary advice and decision making. And I am Jinpachi Ego, I am the man who was hired to ensure Japan’s victory at the World Cup.”

‘So this is Ego.’ His mannerisms in the letter fit him perfectly.

“Who is he? Do you guys know him?”, Isagi shakes his head. “No clue. What about you Sora?”

“Only know the name.” It wasn’t a lie but she figured telling the two that she had been specifically scouted by Jinpachi wouldn’t do her any favours.

“Japan needs one thing and that’s the birth of a revolutionary striker. I’ll be running a few experiments to figure out which one of you 300 is capable of becoming the single best striker of the world.”

“Here at this facility, Bluelock”, the screen behind Ego changes, warping into the insides of the facility Jinpachi had just mentioned. “Starting today, you will all live there together and undergo the specialised training that I have devised. You won’t be allowed to go home and your previous soccer careers will be but a mere memory.”

“But I promise you this, if you fight hard enough, if you become the last man standing out of the 300 candidates then you be the best striker in the world.”

Sora crossed her arms in silence, noting the varied groups of nervous men in the room while she was completely calm, was enough for her to smirk ever so slightly.

“Hey, uh, excuse me? Sorry but I can’t agree to these conditions.”, Soras brows perk up at Kira, Ego himself was glaring down at the young boy. “All of us have teams that we’ve given our loyalty too and some of us have nationals coming up and you want me to abandon my team for what huh?”

Echos of other likeminded idiots sound out from the room, aggreeing with Mr bright eyes. Sora scoffed, leaning her arm on Isagis shoulder, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “Hey Isagi, is your friend always such a Boy Scout?”

“What? I-I guess?”, the heat of her breath on his his ear nearly made him topple over, the blush returning to his cheeks. “To be honest I don’t actually know him that well.”

“Figures.” She hummed in his ear, founding his shoulder rather comfy.

“Lock off! If anyone wants to leave them go! Are your perspectives really that limited? You’d rather return to high schools backwater competitions than be the worlds best striker?!”

“The future of Japan is in your hands? It’s enough to make a man weep”, Sora could’ve sworn she saw the man twitch before redirecting himself to the centre of the stage. “But let me ask you this. What is soccer? Is it about 11 players working together? The bonds that you forge? Sacrifice? Fighting for your team mates? That kind of thinking is why this countries game as remained weak!”

“Soccer is about scoring more goals than your opponent does”. Soras heart thumps louder, “Whoever scores the most is the best, end of story. If you just want a fun game with your pals then lock off.”

“This guy is crazy”, Isagi muttered into Soras ear, who contained a giggle, his breath tickling her skin. “But he’s passionate at least, unlike some of the others”, Sora detached herself from Isagi to point at Kira as he continued to make a fool out of himself.

“Those players are my heros!! Now take it back!”

This sent Ego down a spiral, the screen flashing between 3 of the greatest players throughout the world. “And of course Kazuma Hisaya said it himself. Forget the others on your team, in the end it’s you who gets them to victory.”

Soras fists clenched at the blown out picture of her father in his glory days, even back then he didn’t care about anything else other than himself.

Isagi said nothing but put his hand on her shoulder. “Real hero my father was huh.” She muttered angrilly, thinking that she was starting to sound like her sister. Isagi beginning to understand why the girl insisted on being called Sora over her last name.

“You can’t be Japan’s greatest striker without first being the biggest egoist.”, Isagis grip on Soras shoulder tightened, feeling something with him stir. Sora felt it too.

‘His words, could they be true? Is that why I havnt progressed any further than just nationals?’ Soras heart thudded in her chest again, harder and louder.

“Now pass through and be transformed, discard comman sense and remember when you’re out on the field you’re a star.”

“Nothing should bring your more joy than your own goals”, Soras breath hitched, remembering each time she has scored a goal, how her body felt like it was on fire. Opposed to when ever she had to give up the ball for a team mate to score, she would be cold, something in her would thrash in her against it, wanting to push onward, to Make…. The …. Shot.

But she wouldn’t, her coach would say it was greedy to go out on her own and not rely on her team mates so she would play along, and pass.

‘Is that what I was doing? Stamping out my own ego for others?‘

“Live only for that glorious moment and if you can’t… then you’re no striker at all!”

Isagi ran head first, eyes blazing with a new fond determination. ‘I am a striker!’

Sora laughs , her tongue glides over her teeth before sprinting off after Isagi, her pronounced canines on show.

The commotion behind her didn’t matter, for she would become one of the greatest strikers in Japan no… the world!

Maybe for the first time in her life, she choose to give in to her ego and she had never felt more free.

~

‘Man this suit is fucking skin tight, and the binder doesn’t help at all.’

Sora hand goes to her now compressed chest under suit, feeling the fabric that bound her breast down to appear flat chested.

She knew she’d have to go through with this when she came here, she only wished the damn thing wasn’t so uncomfortable.

Luckily she wasn’t gifted with the most voluptuous breasts but without the binder, it definitely would’ve been obvious that Sora was in fact a woman.

Her fingers play at the collar of her the top, taking a quick glance at her arm to see the numbers 292 and the letter Z under it plastered on the fabric.

‘Must be our ranks, at least I’m not all the way at the bottom’,

Readjusting her clothes in her arms before she passed a door with the letter Z printed on it in blue, with her hands full she used her leg to kick it open.

‘Can already hear Yiri in my ear for that one’ she thought with a sad sigh, already missing her dotting big sister, even after their argument.

“Hey is that you Sora?”

“Isagi!”, Yoichis face let Sora forget about her home life for a moment as she jogged over, happy to see someone she was familiar with. “Looks like we’re stuck with eachother a bit longer huh?” She raises her hand up and Isagi laughs, smiling gratefully as his hand clasps over hers. “Yeah guess so.”

“Hope you two havnt forgotten about me.”

“Oh hey Kira.” Sora just couldn’t place why Kira irked her so much but she knew that her good mood already started to sour with Mr Boy Scout in the same room. “I’m glad you two are here, I know someone at least.”

Isagi nods. “You read my mind haha ah!-“ a shirt comes flying into Isagis face. “Didn’t see you there”, Sora sees the perpetrator, though the guy is hard to miss with his height, insanely muscular build and with hair as bright as a sunset. “My bad.”

“It was just an accident, I hope-” Isagi goes to give the shirt back, not noticing the sleeping soul on the ground. “Hey Isagi? you might wanna look down.”

“Sora what are you- huh?” He jumps away with start, finally noticing the guy passed out on the floor.

“Hey~ stop hogging the ball and pass it to me”,

‘He’s even dreaming about Soccer’, Sora tilted her head in wonder, going as far as to kneel down and touch the bob cut boys cheek with her finger.

Poke, poke.

Still asleep. ‘Man he’s like Nagi when he’s sleeping. Adorable like him too.’

“Uh Sora? Arent you supposed to have changed in here?” Kira asks the girl who’s still watching the sleepy boy on the ground. “Changed on my way here, figured it would be faster.”

“You changed out in the hall? Where there’s cameras? ”, the orange boy asked this time, staring at Sora as if she had 3 heads. “Is that a problem buff boy?”

“Jeez, you have no shame.”, turning around with his back facing her. “Not really no.” Sora , without taking her eyes off whoever the sleeping boy was, tossed her clothes behind her, hearing the fabric hit the orange boys toned back. He glared at Sora but she was still occupied with the sleeping boy, still poking him to see if she could wake him up.

Begrudgingly he picked up Soras clothes, tossing them in a locker as he clearly wasn’t going to. ‘What a child’ he thought with scoff.

“Hey!! You’re Ryonoske Kira!!!! Wow I can’t believe it.” Kira shyly shakes the bold boy hand who looks at him with stars in his eyes. “Y-Yeah it is.”

“Oh look another boy to join the Kira kiss ass club.” Sora chirps out, not caring that Kira threw her a dejected look her way. The bald boy didn’t seem to take it as insult as he looks at both Isagi and Sora with a goofy smile, waving his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Gurimu Igarashi!”

“Yeah, hey.”

“Yo.” Sora gave a little salute with her hand, half listening about how apparently Igarashi is a monk or from a family of them. The only thing Sora found interest in was the numbers on his his shirt sleeve.

300. Rock bottom.

‘I shouldn’t have to worry about him then’

“Are you finished changing? My little diamonds in the rough.” Close to the ceiling was a giant TV, Egos face now plastered on it, looking over everyone in the room. “Think of the players you’re sharing this place your roommates and also your rivals.”

Ego continues to explain the ranking system, Isagi now begins to notice that he is unfortunately ranked at 299.

‘I’m the second worst player here?!’ Isagi dispaurs, more so when sees that even Sora is sitting at a higher rank than he is.

“The top 5 will get to play in a special game six months from now. These athletes will be registered as forwards at the U20 World Cup.”

Gasps go around the room, that opportunity is a dream for each of these players.

‘Where’s the catch?’ Sora brought her hand to chin, suspecting something else at play, nothing like this is ever given out for free.

“Additionally those here who loose at Bluelock, firefight the right to ever represent Japan.”

“That would be the catch.” Sora not bothering to keep that one to herself, listening to Ego prattle on, before a cunning look emerges from his eyes.

“Let’s play a game of tag shall we?”

A ball drops down landing a few feet awat from Isagi. “You have 136 seconds, whoever is struck by the ball is ‘it’ whoever is ‘it’ when time runs out will be locked off.”

‘So don’t be caught it last, noted.’

“Also. No using your hands~”

The screen flashes away as the game begins, the system deeming Igarashi Gurimu as the first one to be it.

“What? This isn’t how you play soccer”, some boy remarks in the room, Sora found herself eye rolling at the level of idiocy.

‘There’s factors of soccer here, but this game isn’t about that. He’s testing our egos.’

“I gotta be it first because I’m ranked the lowest?” The boy monk grumbles, resting his foot on the ball. “Alright let’s do this! No hard feelings anyone!”

More protests, Sora shook her head, stretching out her arms and legs. “Just play the game.” Most of the boys looked at her with shock, partially thinking how insane this girl was.

“If I’m kicked out I’ll be a monk for the rest of my life!” That’s all it took for the boy to start sprinting, dribbling the ball on his feet as the group dispirsts.

Sora separates from Isagi, instead finding herself behind Igarashi, figuring the monk would go after players closer to his own rank. “Sorry Isagi!”

‘Figures’ He shoots the ball but Isagi and the others with him manage to dodge, the ball rebounding off the white wall back to him.

“He’s not going to get anywhere unless he actually starts using his head.” Sora mutters to herself but not expecting the boy beside her her would hear and let alone recognise her.

“Sora? The hell are doing here?”

She turned to see her classmate of all people, Hyoma Chigiri, a flabbergasted look on his face. Now there’s a surprise that’s for sure.

“Hey Chigiri”, she winks, sticking her tongue out cheekily as he continues to look at her , baffled. “But how are you-“

With everyone distracted, Sora sprinted over to him, pressing her finger to his lips. “Talk after kay? Better survive the next minute or so Princess.”

His face flushed slightly but he nods, knowing he’ll get his explanation afterwards.

Sora decides to run back to Isagis side, hearing Kira ramble about how ridiculous the current setup is. “Sora!”

She waves quickly at Isagi before smacking the back of her hand on Kira’s chest. “Quit the preaching and focus. You really wanna find out what happens if you end up loosing?”

Kira didn’t expect Sora to lecture him so harshly but she didn’t give him a moment longer, turning her keen eye on Igarshi fumbling around the room, failing to hit anyone.

“I can’t hit anyone!”, he sees the boy from before still sleeping and it seemed finally he caught a break. “It’s a cheap shot but so what. You’re it!”

Hisaya watched as the bob cut leaps up into a handstand, kicking Igarshi in the face and away from him, blood flying from his nose. “Hey! That’s a foul! If this was a real game you would be red carded-“

“He said only hand balls were against the rules didn’t he?” He rubs his eyes, still somewhat half asleep. “Good morning.”

Isagi watched the encounter too. ‘Man what’s with this guy?’

He turned to Sora to gauge her opinion on him but he saw her smile, his eyes glinting with intrigue. ‘Whatever it is , has caught Soras interest big time.’

“Hey. I’m not a fan of playing dirty alright. I want a clean game.”, the brute from before clasps his hand on bob cuts shoulder, glaring down at him.

“Aye, aye Mr strait laced.”

Sora jogged over in front of ‘mr strait laced’, hands on hips. “Maybe you should be lecturing that one-“

Unbenoyst to the others, Igarshi took advantage of the distraction aiming his shoot at Sora who had turned her back on him. He had this in the bag, he knew it. ‘He so thin, getting him should be a piece of cake!’

The ball flew , seeming like it would hit Sora right on but the room goes out in gasps as they see the girl throw her head back as her body falling into a back bend. The ball barely missed her, instead hitting the boy behind her square in the face.

“Woah…”

“How the fuck did he do that?”

Kira awed beside Isagi, who nodded too, witnessing Soras impressive control of their body had him too in awestruck. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that before! Kazuma was known for his more brute type of playing style so there’s no way Sora learned that from his dad.’

“Left yourself open! Amen”, monk boy pretends that was his plan was to hit ‘ Kunigami’ in the first place, his confidence needed a severe reality check Sora thought.

With only a minuet left, Kunigami Rensuke had been declared ‘it’. “You bastard! I’m going to destroy you!!!!!”

He wastes so time to take his shot, unsurprisingly Igarshi sticks to his dirty tactics and holds Isagi in front of him, blocking his body as Kunigami shot reigns in, slamming into Isagis stomach so hard it sent him backwards to the ground.

“Sorry, wrong person…”

Sora winced, seeing Isagi almost choke on his spit. “You alright Isagi?!”, he pants, looking up at the clock, he only had 59 seconds to hit someone. ‘Things can’t end here, I won’t let them’

He kicks the ball, failing to hit anyone head on as the time continued to tick against him. “C’mon Isagi….”

Bob cut hears Soras quiet encouragements for Isagi, an idea coming to mind. He throws himself on Kunigamis back, giggling as he uses his limbs to hold him in places just as Isagi was chasing after Igarshi.

“Come on! Nows your chance! Wouldn’t want Blueberry’s cheers to wasted would you?”

‘Blueberry?’ Both Isagi and Sora thought simultaneously. ‘Is he supposed to be referring to me?’ She deadpans at Bachira who only grinned.

‘Wait, Sora was cheering for me?’ He looks at him and Sora shyly smiles, blushing slightly.

The moment is broken by Kunigami throwing Bachira off his back, crashing down onto Igarshi. Sora whistles. “Damn he’s strong.”

“Well that hurt hehe”, he said as if he hadn’t gotten hurt at all, still smiling as he found this whole situation amusing.

“Quit laughing and G-get off me!”, Igarshi goes to stand but his leg shakes, his hand going to his leg as he feels pain circling around his ankle. “Sprained it… w-wait. Time out.”

Everyone in the room knew he was done for, Isagi would take the shot and the time would finish with Igarshi as the one it and first one to leave.

“Isagi!!”, Kira yells out from his safe spot. “Hit him now! Take the shot!” Sora scoffed, ‘So much for that idealism. What a phoney.”

25 seconds remained and Isagi had yet to make the shot, Igarshi scrambling to get away from him. “Hey… hold on. Stay back I mean it! I don’t want to go out like this! It isn’t fair!”

Isagi looked at him as if he was prey, ready to be devoured after a long chase, the sweat dripped from his body.

‘If I shoot then this guys soccer career is over. No this is about survival, that’s how blue lock works. Making my dream come true means destroying someone else’s, no other way around it!’

20 seconds and time was in a stand still, Sora too was starting yo get nervous. ‘What is he doing ? Won’t he make the shot?’

“Thats not right… in order to change, I need to be something I’m not. I came here to turn things around. To become the best in the world!”

‘Unless I beat someone stronger than me, that won’t happen!’

She could see it, swirling in his eyes , like a flame burning within him. ‘He won’t settle for mediocrity…Heh, now we’re talking Isagi!’

Sora chuckled, watching Isagi turn away, facing the sleep boy who now pointed at him, matching Soras grin. “I like you. You’re right, you wanna beat someone?”

He steals the ball straight out from Isagi, the screen changing to show the name Meguru Bachira, rank 290. “Then it should be the strongest player.”

“W-What? Me!”

Bachira chuckled darkly, watching Kira try to escape him but he wouldn’t let him. “Hey blueberry! You want in on this too right?”

Sora gasps slightly, no realising she had followed Bachira closely after he stole the ball, but her excitement took over her suprise. She doesn’t say a word, only winks at him, speeding ahead as Bachira dribbled onward, keeping Kira’s attention on him.

Bachira sees Sora reach the wall, shooting the ball at Kira who he knew would dodge. Sora uses the wall as leverage and kicks off it, her body turning just as her mother taught her and her foot reaches the ball, sending it back to Bachira.

He sees the ball fly over him, he manipulates his body down like before, making sure his foot hits the ball back toward Isagi who Kira had foolishly ran towards.

Mere seconds remained but that was enough time for Isagi to kick the ball once more, and it hit its mark, flying into Kira’s face, marking him as the last one to be ‘it’ just as the time runs out.

Masterlist | 0.5 | 01 | 02 | 03 |

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 30

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

“Let us begin,” Lan Zhengquan said. He had a look of mild superiority, as he often did.  “As accuser, you have the right of first statement. What say you?”

Lan Qiren glanced around the room.

“If I am correct, elder, we all know what happened,” he said, then paused. “No, let me be clear: we know what you did in Xixiang, you and Lan Muzhi, your elder brother, and furthermore we know what others here joined in later to do as well, covering up what was done, whether in action or through their silence. Is that agreed?”

No one disagreed.

“In that case, we can skip the preliminaries. I assert that what you did was wrong, that it is a wrong that calls for justice, that justice was not served, that punishment is called for. Beyond that, I yield up the right of first assertion.”

The unhappy ghosts of the Xixiang mine, He Kexin herself – this was a matter involving death, and in such matters, there was no question of reparations, no possibility of mitigation through forgiveness by the victim, as Lan Qiren had accorded Wen Ruohan. Lan Qiren, as accuser, stood in the place of the dead, acting in their name, and it was his duty to bring their resentments into the cleansing light of day so that they could be extinguished.

Yielding the first assertion was a show of faith on Lan Qiren’s part. The first speaker traditionally had the advantage in terms of swaying the audience, setting the stage, and the rules granted that privilege to the accuser, as the person acting on behalf of the sect to enforce the rules. To give it up was to say that Lan Qiren believed that there could be no possible excuse for the conduct, that it was unquestionably wrong – that he thought his own position was so unassailable that he did not require any advantage.

There were murmurs in the audience, and Lan Zhengquan frowned.

Not all the murmurs were disapproving, though. Concerned, perhaps, but not negative, not disagreeing with Lan Qiren. There was also support there.

“Very well,” Lan Zhengquan said. Lan Qiren thought he might look a little more annoyed than he had at the start, but perhaps that was only his illusion; he was far from skilled at reading faces. “I assert that the circumstances in which the conduct at hand was undertaken are exculpatory.”

Lan Qiren had not been expecting that to be Lan Zhengquan’s rebuttal. He only barely resisted gaping at him. “You assert that you did not act wrongly?!”

“No. With such an outcome, it is clear that mistakes were made,” Lan Zhengquan said smoothly, brushing over kidnapping and murder with a politician’s slick gloss. “I mean only that the context justifies our actions. If you know the facts of what happened at the Xixiang mine, Qiren, you must know that we were deceived by others – our error was small, and theirs grave. It was the merchant sect we worked with that gave us assurances on one hand and committed foul deeds with the other. They are the ones that are truly at fault for what took place.”

“Unquestionably they are at fault as well,” Lan Qiren replied, releasing his instinctively clenched fists with an effort. A mistake – after everything that had happened, those innocent cultivators, those lives ruined and then lost, Lan Qiren couldn’t believe Lan Zhengquan had the gall to call all of that a mere mistake. “But I would say that it is wrong to say that they were ‘truly’ at fault, for their fault is no defense to your own conduct. You were the ones who acted in the sect’s name, who enabled them to act. It was for your benefit, as well as their own, that they committed their crimes, and so you, too, bear the burden of answering for them.”

“The punishment applicable to actions taken unknowingly is not of the same severity as for an act committed with knowledge and intent.”

Technically true. But…

“A certain level of recklessness rises to the level of intent, and becomes equivalent to intent,” Lan Qiren said. “You were the ones who put our sect’s name out there, choosing to engage in business, and so you bore the duty to ensure that you took all reasonable efforts to assure yourself that the business was good. In this case, your failure was self-evident: you entered a business that everyone knows to be incredibly unprofitable and obtained an impossible profit – you knew, or should have known, that there was something suspect in what was happening.”

“You say everyone knows the business of mining spiritual iron is unprofitable, but that is not true,” Lan Zhengquan replied, as smooth as ever. “We are cultivators, not businessmen. Our attention is focused on higher duties, not the dirt of the mundane. If they told us that they were acting in good faith, though not necessarily according to custom, how were we to know better? We were reasonably ignorant.”

“Ignorance is no defense. If you were going to go out into the world, to step voluntarily into the mundane, then you had a duty to know what you were getting into. You had a duty to understand what was being done in your name. You should have known, and if you did not know, you should have taken steps to familiarize yourself, to find out.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “You say you are not businessmen: fine, that is true, although I remind you that I too am a cultivator, no more a businessman than you, and yet I know enough to be suspicious of such circumstances. When you are surrounded by signs of danger and look away, you cannot plead mere ignorance.”

Lan Zhengquan pressed his lips together in annoyance. It had been a long time since he had been questioned, and it was starting to tell. “Are you accusing us of willful blindness? On what basis?”

“I am saying that when you step out of the Cloud Recesses to interact with the rest of the world, you bear the sect’s name and weight upon your shoulders,” Lan Qiren said. “And in so doing, it is your duty – your heightened duty – to ensure that your conduct is good, for when you stain your name you also stain ours.”

“You are side-stepping the issue. I assert to you that we were deceived. Are you saying that we must bear the punishment regardless?”

Saying “yes” would be the easy way out. Lan Zhengquan had after all admitted that he’d acted badly, even if he didn’t admit to having done it on purpose – accidental wrongdoing was still wrongdoing, still worthy of punishment, only not to the same degree as intentional wrongdoing. If Lan Qiren agreed with Lan Zhengquan’s statement now, he could end this debate, and everyone would be happy, the whole sect in agreement, feathers unruffled. Those responsible would receive at least some censure, if not exactly the one they deserved.

Do not tell lies.

It would be letting them off too lightly.

“I am saying that you are a sect elder of Gusu Lan, and that being a sect elder gives you great responsibility,” Lan Qiren said. “I am saying that even if you did not know the nature of the business you were entering into, it was your duty not to enter into a questionable agreement without verifying what you were doing. It was your duty not to allow our sect name to be used for evil. I am saying…I am saying that it would be one thing if you were truly deceived, elder, but it is another thing entirely to be deceived because you did not take adequate precautions.”

Lan Zhengquan hummed. “So you are saying our conduct is worthy of censure because we were insufficiently wary.”

He was again downplaying what had happened and what they’d done, making it seem less than it was. He knew that it was hard to condemn someone for merely making a mistake, for being a little careless, for not thinking things through…but that wasn’t what had happened here.

“I am saying you failed to meet even the lowest possible standard of care,” Lan Qiren said. “I am saying that you put our sect’s name out into the world blindly when you could have, and should have, availed yourself of the expertise of others who did know more than you. The sect has resources for precisely that sort of situation. Why not use those?”

Lan Zhengquan blinked.

Under normal circumstances, Lan Qiren might have missed it, the first physical response Lan Zhengquan had given to any of Lan Qiren’s arguments. But his anxiety had narrowed his whole field of vision, focusing on every aspect of Lan Zhengquan to look for clues as to how to continue the argument, studying his posture and his body language, the confined way he held himself, the tension in his shoulders…

Lan Zhengquan was not taking this as lightly as he pretended to be.

And Lan Qiren, intentionally or not, had hit on a good point.

Lan Zhengquan was quiet for a little longer than usual, thinking over what Lan Qiren had said, or else hoping that Lan Qiren would feel awkward in the silence and speak further – unintentionally obfuscating his own argument and allowing Lan Zhengquan to respond to whatever new thing he said, rather than the thing he didn’t want to respond to now.

Lan Qiren had no idea which one it was, but he wasn’t going to give him the victory either way.

He waited.

In the end, Lan Zhengquan said, slowly, “Those resources were not available to us at the time.”

That was what Lan Qiren had thought.

Known, really – but it was so much more effective to force Lan Zhengquan to admit it.

“Those resources were not available to you only because you acted in secret,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “If you had gone through the proper channels to obtain authorization from the sect for your actions, you would have had to submit a copy of the agreement to the records room. While it was being copied, it would have been reviewed by someone familiar with the business to ensure we were not being cheated, even if we had to bring in an expert from the outside to assist us in doing so. We would have had the opportunity to identify suspicious points in the proposal. That way, even if you yourself did not know enough to identify the problems, someone else would have. Disaster could have been averted.”

“Oh, yes, disaster averted if only protocol were followed, very easy, what a solution!” Lan Zhengquan said, shaking his head dolefully as if Lan Qiren had said something very stupid in suggesting that he and his brother had to follow the same rules set out for every person who wanted to use sect funds or the sect name for something. “Ah, Qiren! What you said only reveals the extent of your ignorance.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows when Lan Zhengquan stopped there. “If I am ignorant, then I request that the elder educate me.”

Lan Zhengquan shook his head again. “Qiren – ”

“This is a debate, elder,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “A debate brings out the truth and examines it ruthlessly, without excuse. We are not dealing here in implications and innuendo, and suggesting that I should already know what you mean does not excuse you from explaining yourself when I request it. If you have an argument to make, make it outright.”

Lan Zhengquan sighed, acting as if Lan Qiren were behaving like a petulant child.

“Very well,” he said, and stepped forward, his hands behind his back in a mirror to Lan Qiren’s posture. A reminder, however unintentional, that they were both the same, both of Gusu Lan, raised in the traditions of their sect. “I do not wish to bring up a sore point, Qiren, but if you insist, then you leave me no choice. I remind you, and all those in this room, of a sad fact: the last sect leader, Qiren’s father, gave up on everything after the death of his wife.”

Lan Qiren did not flinch, but it was a close thing.

At least Lan Zhengquan, unlike Lan Qiren’s brother, did not explicitly specify out loud that Lan Qiren’s mother’s death had been caused by the infection she suffered giving birth to Lan Qiren – though the implication was understood all the same.

It was not Lan Qiren’s fault, of course. He had not chosen to be born. He understood that now, in a way he hadn’t when he was just a child. And yet the fact of it was still there, lingering in the background, ruining everything. It had been why Lan Qiren’s brother had initially disliked him, before his dislike turned to resentment and envy, and then through madness into jealousy and rage and hatred, and it had been the reason why a number of his teachers had remained distant and a little cold towards him no matter how well he performed. Whether deserved or not, for many of the older generation in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren’s birth and therefore presence was directly correlated with not just the death of his mother, but the breaking of his father’s spirit, and the ensuing decline of their sect.

“Your father lived for nearly twenty years more, yes, but we all know that he did not really survive it,” Lan Zhengquan said, speaking as much to the room as to Lan Qiren. “He was lifeless, dead but still alive, as much a walking corpse as the evil spirits we fight on night-hunts, and yet he was sect leader, refusing to resign or retreat into seclusion. To get anything approved under his supervision verged on the impossible! He would respond only slowly, if at all, and often forgot that you had even asked. Under his watch, our sect missed out time and again on valuable opportunities, whether for honor or glory or even necessities, food and drink and cloth. It became necessary for us, in our role as sect elders, to go out to the world and start making agreements for the sect’s benefit…even though it was without authorization.”

And that was probably how it started, Lan Qiren thought to himself. Lan Muzhi had gone out and made one deal, and everything had gone fine, everyone doing well, benefits all around. So he had done it again, and again, and it accrued to both the sect’s benefit and his own personal benefit, and so he had forgiven himself for the violation of the rules. He had convinced himself that his behavior was fine. He’d convinced himself that everything was fine.

By the time he reached the disaster of the mine, he had grown too sure of himself – Do not be haughty and complacent. He had run into a situation he did not understand, and he had chosen to act regardless. He had not asked for help. He had not felt it was necessary…and then the situation had surpassed him.

“This is fault, yes; this is wrongdoing, yes,” Lan Zhengquan said. “But I put to you, Qiren, that the fault was minor, and the intent was good.”

And so, he implicitly suggested, the whole thing ought to be forgiven and overlooked.

“Even if the intent was good, the fault cannot be excused, and it was not minor,” Lan Qiren said fiercely. “Intent can start good, and become bad. Recklessness can become intent; good intent, with negligence, can become wrongful. To start a course of action that is unwise is a mistake, but to continue in it once you have gained knowledge that what you are doing is wrong is to turn that mistake into a misdeed.”

That was the core of it.

Anyone could make a mistake. Anyone could choose to trust the wrong person, look away from the wrong thing, follow their heart down a path they should not follow – and there was no limit on the magnitude of the mistake, either, although obviously mistakes that caused greater harm deserved greater punishment. But to persist in what you were doing, to insist that you were right when you knew you were doing wrong…

That was no longer just a mistake.

Such conduct was sanctionable even if it had initially been well-intentioned. Such conduct was sanctionable even if it was justifiable, even if it was understandable, even if what you had done had started out as only good. That was the misdeed, that was the hole in the boat they all shared, the behavior that had to be punished in order for their community to continue with righteousness and without hypocrisy.

If you truly believed you had acted correctly, you had to defend your actions. You had to be able to explain why your actions were the right ones. If you could not stand by what you had done, genuinely and truly, you had to accept that, and accept punishment.

That was what it meant to break a rule.

That was what rules were.

Like Lan Qiren, rules were rigid and inflexible. They were not principles, to be twisted and applied as the situation warranted. They had to be applied as they were, or they had to be changed – but they could not be avoided. You could not conceal the truth of your conduct from the light of day to avoid getting into trouble. You could not act wrongly, knowingly act wrongly, and then refuse to accept the consequences.

No matter who did it.

If it was Wen Ruohan, or even if it were one of his beloved nephews, that did the wrong thing, then Lan Qiren would ask them if they believed in what they were doing, if they thought they could defend it, and if not, he would ask them to accept punishment. If they could not, or would not, accept punishment, and Lan Qiren nevertheless determined in his own judgment that their conduct constituted a wrong, then he had only two choices: to condemn them and require them to pay the price, or else defend them and submit himself to the sect’s punishment. Because separate and apart from anything his loved ones did, he had to look to his own conduct, and if he couldn’t defend his conduct to himself, then he, too, would need to account for it.

No matter the reason, you had to pay your own debts.

Those were the rules.

Maintain your own discipline.

Now it was Lan Qiren’s turn to take a step forward, keeping an eye on Lan Zhengquan as he did.

“Let us concede for the moment, elder, that you and your brother entered into that initial agreement in good faith, although in ignorance,” he said. “Let us accept, for the sake of argument, that your initial recklessness was more akin to negligence, driven by the circumstances, than it was to malintent. But that only explains the beginning. What, then, of what happened later?

“Surely you became suspicious when you began to receive unreasonable profits, which no one else could obtain. Surely, when you became aware that there were cultivators working in the mines, when you looked around and saw that there was no war, no famine, nothing that would explain why they would take on such difficult and dishonorable roles for such low wages when there were other options available, you must have realized that something had to be happening that was not right.

“At that point, you either knew, or had the duty to find out what was going on, what was being done in your name. To refuse to find out when faced with obvious signs of something wrong is to be willfully blind. Yet even that understates the issue here. Here…I say that you knew, elder. You knew what was happening, and yet you continued to do nothing, even as people were suffering. Why not act then? Why not submit the matter to the sect then?”

The answer was pride, of course. Pride and arrogance, an unwillingness to admit fault, to accept punishment for what they had done wrong.

Lan Zhengquan’s eyes narrowed.

Another point to Lan Qiren.

“At the time, my elder brother believed that it was a matter he could handle on his own,” Lan Zhengquan finally said. It was a weak defense, and he knew it. “He was wary of staining the sect’s face with his mistakes, particularly when he thought he had the chance to correct them. He did not want to draw away the resources of the sect to something he believed, even if incorrectly, was under control.”

“That goes well beyond being merely incorrect, elder,” Lan Qiren said. “Your brother was wrong.”

Lan Zhengquan bristled. “Is that not what I said? He made a mistake in judgment.”

“There is a difference between a mistake and a crime, elder. Innocent life is paramount. Your brother found out that innocent cultivators were being forced into labor to satisfy his own greed, and he did nothing. The moment he found that out, the moment he found out what was being done in our sect’s name, that was when mistake became crime! When he put profit and gain over doing the right thing, despite having found out that our sect, our Gusu Lan, had been used to justify kidnapping and enslavement – ”

“Do not exaggerate!”

“I am not exaggerating! How else should I describe cultivators taken from their homes and forced to labor, not permitted to leave or refuse, and for no reason other than another’s profit? There is no indication that those cultivators were criminals condemned to labor, no indication that they had willingly sold themselves and traded labor for shelter, no indication that they were willing at all. To stand aside when you see such a thing is bad enough, but to enable it, and find that you had enabled it, and then to still do nothing is a crime. It is not a mistake, and there is no excuse.”

Lan Zhengquan was shaking his head, but Lan Qiren barreled onwards.

“When your brother found out what was happening, he should have known he had gone too far, and he should have taken immediate action to rectify it, even if it meant submitting the matter to the sect and seeking aid – but he did not. Whatever excuses you make for him, you cannot defend that, elder! Your brother compromised his values and closed his eyes for the sake of salvaging his own pride, for the sake of refusing to admit he had erred. I tell you, it was that which enabled everything that happened later – everything that happened, happened because Lan Muzhi valued covering his tracks over seeking justice.”

“He was protecting the sect!” Lan Zhengquan snapped. “Do not speak of what you do not understand, Qiren. The compromises he made were reasonable in light of the circumstances at the time. We cannot all be pristine and perfect, and neither should we be expected to be.”

“No one is demanding perfection. There are places where one must compromise, to be sure, but after a certain point, you have not merely compromised your values, you have given them away.”

The two of them locked eyes, each glaring at the other.

“Our sect rules guide us all to the right path and show us how to walk, but only we can decide to follow it,” Lan Qiren reminded Lan Zhengquan. “It is not a crime to go astray, although it still calls for punishment. But if we wander astray, it is our duty to return to the right path. To go astray and then to keep going…that is wrong. I put it to you, elder, that our ancestors would not have put up our Wall of Discipline and laid out the rules if they believed that we could make compromises as great as this.”

Lan Zhengquan was silent.

This time, Lan Qiren chose to interpret it as him giving up his right to reply, and so he continued: “This is the crime I assert: with such rules as we have, upon discovering what was going on, Lan Muzhi could not in good conscience have refrained from immediate action to stop what was happening, even if it meant revealing what he had done. He was obligated to do that, but he did not. He did nothing – but in doing nothing, he acted. He allowed and condoned the kidnapping of cultivators for the sake of satisfying greed, he countenanced forced labor, he permitted it to continue, and in the end, it resulted not only in suffering, but in death. The death of innocents, which call for justice. Lan Zhengquan: I put it to you that this is the case. Do you admit it?”

Lan Zhengquan would not admit it. Lan Qiren could tell, just from looking at him, that he wouldn’t.

He hadn’t gotten through to him.

This wasn’t working. Lan Qiren was not enough; his words, though well-meant and earnest, were too clumsy, too weak, too monotonous and too convoluted. He was arguing, trying his best, but he wasn’t succeeding, he wasn’t making his point.

Lan Zhengquan would not admit that he and his brother had been wrong.

Lan Qiren could only hope that the other sect elders, silent witnesses all, were more open-minded.

“I grant to you that my brother made mistakes,” Lan Zhengquan finally said, sounding begrudging, but in fact making no real concession. It was the same place he had started the debate, willing to admit to a mistake but not to a crime, downplaying what they had done, downplaying the direct causation between their actions and inaction and the results of what happened. “Perhaps you are right, and he should have submitted the matter to the sect earlier, and perhaps if he had done so, disaster might have been averted at the time. We will never know. But…even if that is so, he is dead, and the dead cannot be punished, not even in the name of justice.”

“He is dead, but you yet live, elder,” Lan Qiren countered. “You, and all those who acted with you, whether affirmatively or passively, to help cover up your brother’s crimes. Tell me, elder: even if it was your brother’s order to clean up the mine, did you not have a duty yourself to act at that time to stop it? Did you not equally bear the weight of responsibility to undertake justice and uphold morality? Is that not a burden we all bear, to act as soon as we know a wrong has been committed and to seek to right it?”

Suddenly the room was full of whispers.

It was startling, knocking Lan Qiren out of his intense focus on Lan Zhengquan alone. Everyone had been so silent until now, as they rightfully should be under the rules of the debate, and now they were all talking, although not loud enough to fully interrupt…why now?

Had they not realized what it meant, when Lan Qiren had called for punishment?

Had they not realized that the subject of this trial was not merely the actions taken ten years ago by Lan Muzhi, who was indeed far past the reach of justice, but the actions subsequent to that: the deaths that had been caused and not remedied, the laying down of suppression arrays, the conspiracy of silence that had protected them all?

Did they not realize that what was on trial here was their own conduct? Their own complicity?

Lan Zhengquan’s eyes glittered, but his composure did not break.

“Permit me a question before I answer you, Qiren,” he said, slow and steady, calm as ever. He had always been an excellent politician, far better than the often-tempestuous Lan Qiren. “From whom did you hear the story of what happened? How did they know about it? Was their information first-hand, or second?”

Lan Qiren paused, wondering at the nature of the question. It felt almost like some sort of trap.

“I am not sure,” he said, though he supposed it was technically second-hand: with the merchant sect dead, with the victims dead and their ghosts banished, the only real witness left alive was likely Lan Zhengquan. Lan Zhengquan…and He Kexin, who was now dead, and from whom Lan Qiren’s brother had undoubtedly heard the majority of the facts. “But no matter whatever else is between us, I do not doubt my brother’s word.”

Silence again.

He’d played a strong hand there, or so he thought. The Lan sect believed in hierarchy, and the sect leader stood at the top of that hierarchy, above even the sect elders, worthy of respect and of deference. Moreover, Lan Qiren’s brother, of all people, had lost so much on a personal level to the events of the mine and its sequelae – He Kexin’s forced confinement, his own seclusion, his giving up of sect leadership, not ever knowing his children, and perhaps even his madness – that it was difficult to doubt that he would convey the facts as best he knew them.

Surely no one would question the facts as he had presented them. Surely…

And then Lan Zhengquan smiled.

“You have it just right,” he said. “You do not doubt your brother’s word – and neither did I doubt mine.”

Lan Qiren had made a mistake.

He could see nods starting around the room. People were being drawn over to Lan Zhengquan’s side, agreeing with him, everyone thinking of Do not disrespect the elder and Do not fight with family and all the rules around familial harmony. Harmony is the value…

It felt like an excuse, and it was an excuse. But it was a good excuse: Do not blame me, they were all thinking, because I only did what I was asked to do, asked by someone I trusted. Surely you cannot hold that against me.

Lan Qiren could.

Lan Qiren would.

He Kexin’s main flaw was always that she trusted her friends too much, He Zhong had said. She never looked, never questioned, no matter what signs there were that something was off.

Should she have had to pay for her trust, while his sect could be excused for doing the same?

That would be unfair.

Yet it was a good argument, or at minimum a compelling one. It was very much like Lan Zhengquan’s initial claim that he and his brother had been deceived, that their intent was good and their actions only misguided, not wrong, but where there was an obvious need to distrust strangers, one could not say the same for family. You were supposed to be able to listen to family, to trust family, to have faith in family.

To be deceived by family was terrible, yes, but it was not a crime. It was justifiable.

Now it was Lan Qiren who was forced into what felt like the weaker argument: “The instinct may be to obey family, and to trust in their good faith, but the circumstances were too dire for that. They were such that you had an overriding duty to righteousness,” he said. “When the moral obligation to act is clear-cut, to act righteously is a stronger rule than those dictating obedience.”

“Ah, but it is precisely that which is the issue! The conjunction of the rules is such that we are encouraged to err in favor of obedience when matters are unclear,” Lan Zhengquan countered. “Hierarchy begets order and maintains it. You say that the moral obligation was clear-cut, but you speak with the clarity brought about by hindsight. You were not there at the time. At the time it was all unclear. In such unclear circumstances, would you not yourself follow your brother…?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said honestly, and for whatever reason that seemed to cut through Lan Zhengquan’s smugness.

It seemed to cut through the room, too, and suddenly Lan Qiren knew what he had to say.

“I do not trust my brother,” he said, and Lan Zhengquan stared at him, incredulous. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Lan Qiren to admit to his feud with his brother – or perhaps not so calmly, without anger or rancor, not losing his composure or flinching. “I do not trust him, but that is because he has forfeited the right to my trust. It is my duty as a junior to follow in the steps of my elders, to listen to their guidance, but only when their guidance directs me on a path that is right. It is the duty of the elder brother to protect and guide the younger, to show the right path, to act righteously and to ask only righteous things. My brother failed in that duty to me. And so too, it seems, did your brother fail in that duty to you.

“Elder, our rules are about moderation, about balance. Do not disrespect the elder is only valid provided that the elder also fulfills do not disrespect the younger. Your brother, in instructing you to condone or carry out such obviously wrongful acts, abjured his duty to you. He perverted the responsibility that we have, all of us, as teachers and guides to those who are junior to us. But while the sins of the student may be the fault of the teacher, fault does not absolve the sin. Even if you were only following your brother’s orders, you still did what you did. You still committed the wrongful act.”

Lan Zhengquan didn’t like that. Lan Qiren hadn’t expected him to. It was just like his own brother had behaved, denying his own culpability because he had someone else to blame, unwilling to cast off his delusions and admit the truth that he had been the one to wield the blade that ended He Kexin’s life, that it was him and no one else.

In the same way, Lan Zhengquan was naturally reluctant to concede the truth that it had been his order that had led to those deaths. His brother’s by genesis, perhaps, but carried out by him.

He sought to rally: “Again, you speak without understanding. The circumstances were as I said unclear, the balance weighing towards obedience – ”

“But you still did it,” Lan Qiren interjected. It was improper debate technique to interrupt, but he thought the point he had to make was worth it. “In the end, you did it. The decision to act may have been influenced by your obedience to your elders, but the decision in the end was yours. The act was yours, and so too is the crime, and the punishment as well. You were no child, elder, to be excused because you lacked knowledge and understanding of what you did. This all happened only ten years ago; by then, even I, the youngest of all of you here, was already a man full grown. You were an elder of the sect. You bore the heaviest burden to act righteously…you all did.”

“Do you condemn us all, then?” Lan Zhengquan asked. He was scowling. “You said before that all those who acted in concert to carry out what happened, or who passively acted to cover it up, are implicated in the wrongdoing. What of those whose only actions were far later, when everything was already done? Those whose actions were taken to protect the sect from revelations that would only bring us all harm…? By that brush, you would paint us all as involved, every one of us. We rise and fall together.”

“Punishment should be doled out in proportion to fault,” Lan Qiren said, and Lan Zhengquan looked almost shocked when he realized that Lan Qiren was agreeing with him, that he did mean to condemn them all. “Light to those least involved, harshest to the worst offender. But punishment must still be meted out, to each their own measure, each one owning what they did…but surely you must realize that your own fault is compounded by the involvement of others? It was you, elder, that brought in the rest, implicating them. You were the one who took steps to cover up what was done. You were the one who got people involved, staining their own hands, before they found out the full truth of what they had gotten involved with. You were the one who led the rest into complicity, step by step.”

“You condemn me first, then, above all the others.”

“I do. You were the one who mixed private and public interests, you who used your position as sect elder to lead the others. Do not sow discord; do not cause damage. Elder, please, look at everything that has happened, everything that resulted. Do you not see what you have done to our sect?”

“I have helped our sect,” Lan Zhengquan said. He seemed offended. “How can you say I mixed private and public interests? In this case, they were one and the same, but that is not my fault…I have served our Gusu Lan faithfully for so many years. You claim I am due punishment for what I did, Qiren, but even if we accept all your arguments, even if you condemn us all, then can you truly say that I escaped punishment? Surely you know what I have given up. I have not left the Cloud Recesses in so long…”

“Do you think you did wrong?”

Lan Zhengquan stopped and frowned at him.

“You refer to accepting my arguments, you refer to me condemning you,” Lan Qiren said. “You say that your brother made a mistake, as if such horrible things can be papered over as a mere mistake. You say that it was not your fault that your interests happened to coincide with the sect, you say that you were merely obeying instructions, you say that your brother had good intent, that his actions and yours were justifiable…Lan Zhengquan, to be justifiable is not to be just.”

He took a step forward.

Lan Zhengquan, startled, took a step back.

“Let us speak bluntly as to what is at issue here. Cultivators were taken away from their homes and forced into labor, and then killed. That was not a mistake, elder. Once you acted knowingly to enable it, it was a crime.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “You were involved in – no, you committed a crime, elder. You say you accepted punishment, but it was one that did not impede your life in the slightest. It did not impinge on your ability to act as sect elder or to guide our sect. Your restriction kept you from causing future harm in the same manner, yes, but only by preventing you from ever being asked the same question again. And that matters, because if you were asked the same question…would you not give the same answer?”

Lan Zhengquan’s face was ugly.

“You would,” Lan Qiren concluded. “Because you still think you were right.”

Silence.

Lan Zhengquan didn’t deny it.

He didn’t deny it.

Lan Qiren shook his head, almost disbelieving. “How can you think such a thing?” he asked, and meant the question genuinely. “How? How can you think that you acted rightly? With everything that it cost…”

“You are one to speak of cost,” Lan Zhengquan growled, his voice tight and angry. All those arguments, that haughty sneer of the politician, always above it all – it was breaking now, his fury cutting through his cool demeanor and revealing the self-righteousness lay beneath. “You come here to call for punishment, call for justice. You look down at us all for not having done enough, even though we have already given up so much to atone for those mistakes. We have suffered so much. Not just me, with my restriction, but the sect itself…think of your own brother, Qiren! The finest light of our sect, snuffed years before his time, who because of that event was forced into seclusion, a confinement that broke him – ”

“Yes, let us speak of that,” Lan Qiren said, his own ire riled. “Let us speak of seclusion, and confinement. Let us speak of He Kexin, who you imprisoned without a trial – ”

“She didn’t deserve a trial!” Lan Zhengquan roared. “She killed my brother!”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Qiren snapped. “That’s not the truth, and you know it! Your brother died of a qi deviation, brought on by his own misdeeds!”

“She aggravated it, she caused it,” Lan Zhengquan insisted. “My brother was trying to do the right thing, to fix it all with minimal harm, preserving the sect’s reputation. Yes, perhaps he had gotten too involved, perhaps he had let it go too far, let the circumstances get beyond him – yes, maybe even he was culpable for not having raised the alert and confessing when perhaps he should have. But that is only a mistake, not a crime! He was going to fix it.If she hadn’t tormented him, it would have all been resolved. If he hadn’t died, if I hadn’t been summoned away, those cultivators wouldn’t have all died, they would have been paid and sent on their way, and it would all be over. It was her fault, and so she rightfully bore the punishment for it!”

(No, you did it. You killed her, not me. It wasn’t me…)

“You cannot use a punishment inflicted on an outsider to absolve crimes committed by our sect,” Lan Qiren said coldly. “He Kexin was not surnamed Lan, she was not an outside disciple of our sect, she never submitted voluntarily to be bound by our rules. Even if she paid for her own crimes, that would be a completely different thing from our sect paying for ours. For what the sect did through you, what you and your brother did in our Gusu Lan sect’s name. For kidnapping, for forced labor, for enslavement and for murder – ”

“It wasn’t – ”

“It was! Unlawful and unjust, it was murder, slaughter pure and simple, and it was at your command! He Kexin may have been far from guiltless, but she did not do that. She participated, she shut her eyes, willfully blind, but she did not kill. She did not kill those cultivators in the mine, and she did not kill your brother, either. Her punishment should have been in proportion to her crime! It should have been imposed following a proper trial – a trial you never gave her, because you weren’t punishing her for what she did! You were punishing her for being a witness!”

They were shouting now, both of them, standing right in front of each other. Decorum had long been forgotten, propriety set aside, the subject too sore for either of them to maintain their composures.

“That’s not what happened!” Lan Zhengquan insisted. “You don’t understand, you weren’t there! It was complex, it was complicated, it was murky. Once we realized we had gone too far, we were trapped in a mire with no light, no reason, no guide. We did the best we could with what we knew, I did the best I could, and there was nothing better I could have done!”

“You could have told the sect! You could have submitted yourself to punishment back then, you could have both submitted, and the sect would have acted at that time to solve it. You did not do so. You refused, because to do that would be to admit that you erred, that you were wrong. You refused, and you still refuse today. You still think you are right! How can you claim that punishment has been imposed when you have not accepted the truth?”

“Because the truth is that I was right!” Lan Zhengquan shouted, finally breaking. “The truth is that the sect comes first, our Gusu Lan sect comes first, before anything else, before all other considerations – and yes, before the lives of those other cultivators, rogue cultivators and small sects, meaningless in comparison to our great Gusu Lan. If my brother’s actions were found out, it would have shamed us all! It was right to do what we could to erase the evidence. The rules do not demand the truth!”

“But they do demand justice! To say that the reputation of the sect is what is at issue is a lie, for what you were really trying to protect was your own reputation. The sect might have been embarrassed, yes, but it would have been excused if we had tried to stop it as soon as we learned of it; if you had only come and confessed to the sect, the sect’s reputation could have been salvaged. But coming forward would have cost you your own, and so you didn’t. Elder, you put your desire to be right above the rules and used it to justify ordering the death of innocent cultivators, to justify the deliberate implication of the other elders in helping you cover it up, the unlawful imprisonment of He Kexin without a trial, even letting my brother give up his future and go mad in seclusion. All that, because of what you did, and you still say it was justified – ”

“How dare you! You, Qiren, who know nothing! How dare you come to judge? You were not there, you do not understand! You, you who put yourself above us all, you who alone claim to be innocent, to wash your hands of the whole matter – ”

“I do not need to wash my hands!” Lan Qiren shouted. “I have no need, because I was not there, because I did not know, because no one told me. Tell me, Lan Zhengquan: if you were so sure that what you did was right, then why did none of you tell me about it?!”

Lan Zhengquan –

Lan Zhengquan opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I – ” he said, trying to say something, but tripping over his words, stuttering in a way he had not done in all the years Lan Qiren had known him. “I – that is – it was because of you, of course! Because of who you are, because of what you are, the way you behave, the way you’ve always behaved. You’ve always been the worst sort of stick in the mud, rigid, inflexible, unable to compromise, incapable even of understanding – ”

“We didn’t tell you because we knew you would condemn us.”

Lan Qiren startled, having not expected someone else in the room to speak.

It was old Lan Jinyan who had spoken. He was still leaning heavily on his cane – heavier now, somehow seeming to be older and more tired than he had been before, as if merely listening to the argument had aged him another ten years.

“That’s the truth,” he said, his voice flat and quiet, but somehow still ringing in the sudden silence of the room, a stark contrast from the yelling from only a few moments earlier. “That’s the truth, and there is no avoiding it. You would have condemned us, and you would have been right to do so, as you are right to do so now. You have always been rigid, Qiren, rigid but true. You have always tried to live up to the rules, to speak for righteousness, no matter the cost.

“Even those of us who were only involved in this matter tangentially, whether those of us who made the arrays for suppressing the ghosts or those of who did not speak up against He Kexin’s continued confinement even once we discovered that Muzhi died of a qi deviation…we told ourselves that telling you would only cause a fuss, a disturbance, that it would make our sect lose face. That’s what we told ourselves. But we were lying, and the rules say do not tell lies. Every time we chose not to tell you, we lied. We were not acting as sect elders should, prioritizing the sect’s benefit over our own. We were choosing easy silence over the difficult truth. Be hard on yourself. Maintain your own discipline. We had a duty, and we failed it.”

“That’s not the case,” Lan Zhengquan protested, finally over his own startlement at an interruption from outside the debate, which neither of them had declared was concluded. “Elder – ”

Lan Yuanbai reached out and put his hand on his arm. “Enough,” he said. “Enough, Zhengquan. Do not say more.”

“I am not done. I have more to say.”

“No, you do not.” And that was Lan Bocheng, stepping forward, shaking his head. “Zhengquan, it’s over. You lost.”

“I refuse to acknowledge it!”

“The sect acknowledges it,” Lan Bocheng said gravely, and when Lan Qiren looked around the room, he saw that people were nodding in agreement, shame and acceptance writ on all their grim faces. “If you do not…Qiren is right, Zhengquan. You mixed public and private interests, equated your interests and your brother’s with those of the sect, and put all that above our principles, thinking that preserving your reputation was more important than the loss of innocent lives. We followed you this far, Zhengquan, because we believed in you…but in the light of debate, we saw our self-deceit for what it was.”

He inclined his head to Lan Qiren, who stared at him blankly for a couple of moments before inclining his head back, barely able to believe what was happening.

It had worked?

The sect elders – they had accepted what he had to say? They had listened?

I am myself, and that is enough, Lan Qiren had said at the start of this, even though he hadn’t really believed it. But somehow, despite it all, against all the odds…it really had been. He had been enough.

A crime of ten years’ standing was going to be resolved.

His sect –

His sect was going to change.

He’d changed his sect. Using his words, his best efforts, Lan Qiren had changed the minds of his sect elders, and they were going to change in response. He had shown them the truth, and they had accepted it, they had agreed with him, and they were finally, finally going to do what was right.

It was change. Change of the sort he had always hated, that had never been good for him. But for once, for once, it was a good change, a necessary change. A change he himself had authored, rather than suffered – a change for the good, for the better, rather than for the worse.

Lan Qiren put a hand up to his chest, struck by the sensation of suddenly falling out of his mind and back into his body. That part was normal, after a fierce debate, but he noticed that he felt lighter, somehow, fresher and brighter – stronger.

At first he thought it was merely an illusion brought on by his joy, but upon a closer inspection he realized that it wasn’t, that he was actually stronger than he had been before. It seemed that all that extra power from his dual cultivation with Wen Ruohan had been processed and absorbed by his golden core during the debate. It made sense, of a sort, since the Lan sect’s cultivation style was not merely swords and music, but also encompassed philosophical contemplation. By some standards, debate could be considered a type of contemplation…

At least he wasn’t glowing again.

(He hoped he wasn’t glowing again. Surely someone would have said something…?)

“There is of course the matter of the nature of the punishment that is yet to be determined,” Lan Jinyan said mildly, and the others in the room were nodding along. “Now that fault has been settled, and all are agreed, we must decide what must be done – ”

“I should think that obvious,” someone said – Lan Yiran, maybe, or Lan Yichi, Lan Qiren thought. It was difficult to tell the twins apart. “This is a matter that resulted in death. There can be no reparations made for death, only punishment, and so the punishment must be increased as a result of that. As the leader and primary perpetrator of what occurred, as well as someone who is unwilling to admit his fault, Lan Zhengquan must be confined, or else…”

He trailed off, but they all knew what he meant.

Lan Zhengquan did, too.

“Or else killed,” he spat out, mouth twisted into a grimace full of bitterness, seeming to still not believe he had lost. His eyes looked wild, now, and reddened at the edges in a way that warned that he might himself not be too far from risking a qi deviation himself. Was this what had lain beneath his cool composure this entire time? “Diseased flesh cut away to save the rest, is that it? The thorn has dug so deep, it can only be excised by being destroyed?”

“Death is a serious penalty,” Lan Qiren said with a frown. “It would not and should not be imposed without considerable thought and consideration. Just as He Kexin deserved a trial, so too do you. You must not be held accountable for your brother’s actions, only your own, and all mitigating elements must also be counted. It has not yet been decided – ”

“It will be that way in the end,” Lan Zhengquan spat at him. “I will not accept any other punishment! I will make you own your decision, Qiren, all of you, the whole lot of you – I’ll make you carry it even if it costs me my life to do it! I will not enter seclusion voluntarily or involuntarily, I will not let you confine me, let you lock me away to appease your own conscience, so that you can all laugh at me behind your backs for everything you were willing to consent to up till now…!”

Someone did him the mercy of knocking him out.

Unnerved, Lan Qiren looked at Lan Zhengquan as he was caught by the arms of his peers and gently moved over to one of the benches to be laid down. Was that how Lan Zhengquan had seen his brother’s seclusion? As some sort of farce, a mistake, a decision by the sect rather than the sect leader? Did he see that as the price of appeasing his conscience for the mine? Had he been laughing at Lan Qiren’s brother’s foolish willingness to sacrifice his own future to keep He Kexin alive, to keep the sect from executing her for a crime she had not committed?

“What of the rest of us?” someone asked, and Lan Qiren tore his attention away and back to the ongoing conversation. “We, too, are deserving in punishment, for what we did. Passivity in the face of crime is not as great a sin, but it is still complicity…”

Agreement all around, most of it shamed and guilty.

“We must reflect on what we did and why we did it,” Lan Jinyan announced. “We thought we were acting for the sect, but in truth we were acting for ourselves, for our own reputations and to preserve our own moral influence as sect elders – surely, for the punishment to fit the crime, it must involve yielding up the power that led us astray. Seclusion, for some, to contemplate what we have done; good deeds for others, night-hunts and other actions to improve the world…”

“That’s ridiculous,” someone else protested, and even Lan Qiren was staring, wide-eyed and shocked, at the sheer boldness of such a proposition. It did fit the crime, to be sure, but…all of them? “We can’t all give up our positions! Who would be left to run the sect?”

That was a very good point.

“Running the sect isn’t the duty of the sect elders, it’s the duty of the sect leader,” Lan Jinyan said. “Sect elders are meant to advise, to teach, to support – to offer the weight of their experience and knowledge. But if we have lost our own ways, we cannot offer that guidance with good faith and unburdened heart. It would not break the sect to be without us for a year or two.”

“But there isn’t a sect leader right now! He’s still missing! And even if he returns, what sort of sect leader will he be? He already led us into war…”

“Not just war,” Lan Qiren said heavily, and reached up to rub his eyes. “I say this to you, sect elders, in the privacy of the Hall of Serenity, and it must not go any further beyond these walls, but my brother has gone mad with grief. He did not merely start a war and then lose it. He never intended to win it. He lured the cultivation world to Xixiang, and then deliberately incited the destruction of the mountain there in order to release the ghosts that were trapped in the mine, seeking public punishment for our Gusu Lan sect’s actions.”

The room was full of talking as people digested that, but no one doubted him. He’d earned that much respect from them, at least.

And as for the fact that his brother had been trying to use those ghosts to destroy the sect itself, to make them all complicit and guilty so that they would break their own rules…well, for all that Lan Qiren felt guilty for hoping for his brother’s death, he couldn’t help but admit everything would be much, much easier if Wen Ruohan successfully carried out his promise to kill him while Lan Qiren was away.

If his brother was dead, he couldn’t reveal what he had done, and his reputation could be preserved, even if only a little – for the sake of Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, at least, who as his sons would bear the burden of that reputation. Theirs was a sect that understood the madness of being in love, and the grief that came with the death of that love; it would be easy enough to explain his brother’s actions as the lashing out of a man who had given up his future for his wife, and then lived long enough to see his wife die a premature death, apparently at her own hand. He would be seen as a tragic figure, yes, but not a monster.

No one would need to know that he had been the one to kill her.

No one would need to know that he had decided to take the sect down, either. Not even the elders. His actions could be excused as seeking public punishment, wanting to unveil the truth to the world as an act of justice, shining a light to destroy the dark; that would be understandable, even a little admirable. No one would need to know that that had not been what he had really intended. No one would need to know that he had wanted to destroy their heart and kill many of their disciples, just for the chance to maintain his own power after getting his revenge.

Maybe they could even find some way to explain away what had happened with the coins…

That was the rational reason, and a good one. But on a more personal and perhaps even somewhat selfish note, Lan Qiren had also concluded that he would be very happy simply never to see his brother again. But there was no point in speculating – what would be, would be.

What needed to be done, Lan Qiren would do.

“Well, that’s just all the more reason that we cannot resign our positions!” someone finally exclaimed. One of the more ruthlessly practical ones, given that he was willing to take advantage of the polite moment of silence the rest of them were giving to Lan Qiren’s announcement to state his views. “Without a sect leader, who will make decisions and manage affairs?”

“Well, there’s always Qiren – ”

“There is not,” Lan Qiren interrupted hastily, distracted from his thoughts by his alarm at the suggestion. “I married out, remember? I’m no longer qualified.”

“I don’t suppose there is any hope of annulment…”

“There is not. And none of divorce, either, thank you. I am very happy with my wife.”

“Even if you’re married out, that doesn’t necessarily exclude you,” Lan Yichi, or possibly Lan Yiran, pointed out. “As you yourself said, you are still by birth and blood a member of the main line clan. There are both rights and responsibilities that come with that, with being the main clan entrusted by our ancestors with authority over the sect…”

“I live in the Nightless City,” Lan Qiren stressed. “You cannot expect me to manage the sect from there! At any rate, even if I could, think of the implications of such a thing. I’m not blind, and neither should you be! Let me remind you that I am now part of the Wen sect. One must admit, of all possible sects – ”

Someone pounded on the door, requesting entry.

“Qiren, there isn’t anyone else! Your brother is unfit, you have no other siblings – will someone answer the door already and stop that awful noise? It’s not as if we’re discussing anything secret any longer – and everyone else is further out of the main line and either disqualified or inappropriate, unable to act as sect leader while holding the place for the next generation…and for that matter, we don’t even know where your nephews are!”

Oh, that.

Right.

He’d never officially confirmed that they were safe, though he was certain that the sect elders must have figured it out – they knew him best, after all, even if Lan Qiren’s brother hadn’t. Even if Lan Qiren’s brother had not himself cared about Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, the elders knew that Lan Qiren did, and that he would never have prioritized anything over that.

Still, there was suspecting, and there was knowing.

“Xichen and Wangji are safe,” Lan Qiren assured them. “They are with me – ”

“With you?” Lan Yiran looked surprised. “I had assumed you’d gotten confirmation of their location, but – are you saying they’re in the Nightless City? You didn’t take them yourself, someone would have noticed that. So how did that happen?”

“I arranged for them to be taken there by a safe courier – ”

“Madam Wen!”

The room fell silent.

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched.

He turned around to see who had said that. It turned out that the person who had been rudely pounding on the door to the Hall of Serenity had been a Wen sect disciple, with a Lan sect token hanging at his belt. Apparently the debate had taken long enough that he’d managed to get one – though that didn’t excuse the way he’d referred to Lan Qiren.

“That title is inappropriate,” he scolded sharply. “I may have married in, but I am not Madam Wen. By Wen Ruohan’s own agreement, I am the husband, not the wife – ”

“Senior Lan, this is urgent,” the Wen disciple said quickly, interrupting and dropping into a salute. “There’s a message for you, just arrived, from Sect Leader Wen. He says you need to return to Lanling City at once.”

Lan Qiren promptly forgot to be angry. Wen Ruohan summoning him like that, insisting on urgency – he couldn’t tell if it was ominous or promising, or both. Was his brother dead? Was Wen Ruohan hurt? Had they managed to collect all the coins? Had something else happened…?

“I will go at once,” he said, and turned to glare at the sect elders who were making sounds of protests.

Well, most of them. The rest of them were still grinning at him in a way that suggested that they were not going to forget the ‘Madam Wen’ nonsense as quickly as he might have preferred.

“You do not require me for this debate,” he said. “I brought the subject to light, but you are still sect elders, capable of designing and implementing your own discipline. Maintain your own discipline is a rule. I expect you to resolve this and have a proposed punishment for me to review when I return, is that understood?”

“We’re not your students, Qiren,” Lan Jinyan said, sounding long-suffering but somehow a little amused. “Go be with your beloved.”

“Beloved?” someone else asked before Lan Qiren could thank him and go. “He’s married to Wen Ruohan, remember? It was arranged as well, a political match. What on earth makes you say that he of all people is Qiren’s beloved?”

“Pssh, what a ridiculous question. Just look at Qiren. He’s glowing!”

Oh no.

“Hey, Qiren, what say you? Is he your beloved? Wen Ruohan, really?”

“He is,” Lan Qiren said, immediately irritated, and also perhaps desperately trying to use the irritation to overcome his horrible embarrassment. “He is my beloved, and my wife, and you will all pay him the respect due to him as such, regardless of whatever else you may think of him.”

Someone in the room laughed. Several more made sounds that sounded a little like smothered laughs.

“We will, Qiren, we will, we will,” Lan Suiying said. He was one of the ones who was grinning. “Go already. We will continue this debate amongst ourselves, and come to a consensus on the proposed punishment.”

“We will,” Lan Jinyan said. “And I promise you, Qiren, this time, it will satisfy even you.”

His tone had a sense of finality, like the ringing of a funeral bell.

Lan Qiren didn’t have time to worry about that, though he was sure he’d puzzle over it the entirety of the flight from the Cloud Recesses to Jinlin Tower. But for the moment, he had to go.

Wen Ruohan – he hoped he was all right.

After all, if he was, Lan Qiren was going to smack himover this whole glowing nonsense!

[annoyinglandmagazine]

@silmarillionepistolary Lord Maedhros of Himring

Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol of The Noldor

I’ve sent my latest ledger alongside this and I believe you know by now that there is no chance of you finding a fault with it so let’s not shall we? You will not be able to prove anything with any group of accountants you can cobble together from those battle fixated imbeciles in your employ and it’s not as if I intend to withhold aught from you.

I agree begrudgingly that we must approach things from a united perspective, why I even agreed to give Celegorm a loan recently, for military matters apparently though I have my doubts, and I certainly won’t see a coin of it returned without having to write him much more persistently than I like to. He’ll yield eventually, he always does. Though it would be faster if you applied some pressure as well I’m close to getting Ambarussa on side and he’s always been putty in their hands so your assistance isn’t strictly necessary this time.

I am aware that when you talk about the risks of fighting amongst ourselves you are including the Arafinwean and Nolofinwean elements but I am simply electing to ignore that excessively ambitious request. The only ‘us’ that matters to any extent here is the seven of us and our followers and I think, considering I would say those relationships are all in a relatively good place presently, you should cut your losses and accept the win on that front.

You can’t fix all the Noldor, Maedhros, and the sooner you manage to accept that the better as far as I’m concerned. Besides, from what I hear of your own particular diplomatic skills in regards to a certain Nolofinwean you should have an in there no matter what the rest of us do. Curufin and I think you don’t take advantage of it anyone near regularly enough when all of Beleriand knows he would not refuse you any favour you may ask of him but I suppose that’s your own prerogative; we can count on his support on the more dire situations for your sake which is something in any case.

I trust my last shipment of wool will have reached you by the time you receive this; which is all for the better considering I have heard from reliable sources (Maglor but even so) that the weather has taken a sharp turn into an early winter. It was your decision to settle so far north when you could have shunted it on to those Arafinwean brats so you shan’t get my sympathy on that matter but it wouldn’t do for us to lose our mannish recruits to the cold, without all the soldiers we can get our position in the north will quickly become untenable.

In reference to your last letter I do wish that you would stop nagging me about said Arafinwean brats, Nelyo, I have been entirely well behaved in my dealings with them in recent months and am entitled to place whatever taxes I wish on my own exports. If they are unhappy with this they can go elsewhere, they certainly shouldn’t go whining to my older brother to get a discount on my perfectly standard rates.

The disparity you pointed out between their rates and your own was entirely unfounded as I am naturally giving you a discount as head of the house of Feanor and my boneheaded older brother who decided he’d like to freeze to death while fighting off Morgoth armed only with fury. So really you should be thanking me but I am used to receiving no gratitude for my efforts with this family so I shall let it slide.

As for the comparisons you drew between other rates and their’s, if you had time to peruse them I have a list of criteria for which I give lower prices and why they apply to specific groups, ledgers upon ledgers of meticulous, complex calculations, Nelyo dear. Dorothion just happens to meet none of them by pure chance.

On the matter of my trade to the west I think the plan you detailed in your last letter sounded quite satisfactory. I assume you have already begun on having the diplomatic groundwork laid down so we receive ample credit as the benevolent saviours of their economy for the deal I ran by you?

It’s rather ingenious I have to say, I’m sure your end of it will work perfectly and you needn’t worry about the wording of the deal itself, it’s quite brilliant if I do say so myself. Irreproachable really, Fingolfin won’t be able to find any justification to turn it down without looking hopelessly petty. Maybe have Maglor spread a bit of propaganda, some catchy song with subliminal messaging and the like, he’s quite useful for that I suppose. It’s a pleasure doing business with you as always.

I should pay a visit to Himring next summer if all goes to plan, I would only be staying about three months mind; it’s looking to be a busy year and I’ve already got two important trade deals lined up for the autumn that I should be east for at the final stages. I warn you this far in advance because I know your Fingon tends to travel north in the warmer months and I’m sure you would like to avoid any overlap after last time with Curufin.

I recommend you issue an official invitation for a state visit soon, it makes it simpler to write things off as diplomatic expenses on my payments to Fingolfin and it is going to be a hard winter after all. I look forward to it, I haven’t seen you in quite some time now, I miss you. Keep an eye on Maglor, his expenditure has been lower than usual recently and while it hasn’t crossed the threshold of a concerning change best watch for anything out of the ordinary.

No I am not giving you a source for my information on his accounts, I have my ways and I’ll leave it there. On an entirely unrelated note now would be an excellent time to see if Belegost may be more open to a military agreement with Himring than it was previously. I have my ways.

The Lord Caranthir of Thargelion

Prince Morifinwë Carnistir of The Noldor

[deadpool15]

Maybe 3?

TW: Fem Dom/ Sub Anton

Manipulation slight

“I can totally make you come 3 times baby. It would be light work for me if anything.” After I said that I saw Anton crouched down trying to hide his face while full on laughing at me. I know for a fact this dude is not laughing at me. “Are you laughing at me right now, I’m being serious like very serious.” He started to laugh even harder when I said that, “yea baby, I know that’s why it’s so fucking funny. You’re so serious, you actually believe everything you’re saying right now tiny and that’s hilarious.” I punched him straight in the fucking arm because what is wrong with him. “Are you for real right now? You don’t think I can make you cum 3 times.” He finally turned around to face me, “baby let’s be honest you can barely make me cum once. That’s fine though, you’re my perfect pillow princess.”

Hearing that I was beyond pissed, I mean sure he usually did all the work. Anton was the silent type, usually they never boast about their size or skills they simply show you and boy did he show me. He was huge, I mean I’ve seen cocks before in the past and no one has ever compared to Anton, he had a nice girth and was probably about 9-10 inches. The first time, I bragged to my friends how he wasn’t that good in bed and was about average size, that same night I cried on his cock because it wouldn’t fit. Leading him to be obsessed with our size difference. He loved the fact that I was so much smaller than him. He is shy all the time except when he is in the bedroom. He usually is the one to take charge but I mean that doesn’t mean I can’t do it from time to time. I simply choose not to. “Baby, did you hear me? I said I was going to hang with the boys today.”

Hearing that I finally came back from my thoughts. With the absolute best idea ever, “are you sure baby? Sure you don’t wanna play with me today?” I slowly watched as he turned around from to door to watch me open my legs. Wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of shorts. “Baby, don’t do this now. I promised the boys I would go out with them today, I mean it’s been a while.” He moved closer to me while bending down to grab my hips in both his hands. “It’s been a while since you fucked me as well. Which promise means more to you?” Watching him fold was only the start of my beautiful plan. I pushed him towards the room sitting him on the bed while pushing him towards the headboard.

Moving forward with him and then stopping to sit on his lap, I leaned in to peck his lips knowing it wouldn’t be enough for Anton. One simple kiss never is enough. He chased after my lips, while I teased him he grabbed my neck and finally i smashed my lips on his. While he was distracted I reach in the bed for the handcuffs. Yes, I did in fact have a feeling that he would make fun of my advantage to make him cum before we had this conversation. He was so used to being in charge, I just needed to allow him to be my little baby for this day. Once he was cuffed I pulled away from his lips to stare at him. To see him in such a pathetic state was so amazing and maybe a little amusing to me. He tried to reach out for me only to realize he was restricted, noticing the his hands he started to laugh at me again. “Really baby, all cause I said you can’t make me cum without a little help? It’s ok you just lack the stamina baby it’s fine. You’re my tiny baby. Come here so I can make you feel good again. I know you want it.”

Once he started to finish speaking I could tell he was getting desperate for me to untie him. Good I need him to be all desperate. “Wanna bet? You think I can’t make you cum. I’m gonna show you, until I feel like you’ve had enough. Here are a couple of rules to follow though baby. You need to know I’m in charge not you means your word doesn’t matter here. And you will learn not to talk back. Lastly, you can cum as meany times as you want, I’m not cruel unlike you can be sometimes. I say when you have had enough.” Moving to kiss him lips again no I bite his bottom lips pulling it back a little, making my way towards his pants. Anton never really wore boxers these days, which in times like this I was very grateful for. I grabbed a hold of his zipped and started to pull the pants off altogether.

“There his is, wow baby you’re so hard. Did I do that?” He smiled at me, “of course you did baby. Only you can get me like this.” Hearing that made me happy, “I’m glad you know that sometimes it seems you forget.” Before he could shoot back a rebuttal I grabbed a hold of his cock and spat on it, jerking him off. His words came out muffed with his pitched moans. I leaned down to suck on the tip, knowing it was his weakness. “F-fuck, shit so good baby. Keep going.” Hearing that I immediately stopped. He whined out a pathetic why. “Who is in charge ton, say it.” Hearing nothing from him I proceeded to get up from the bed. He yelled out for me to stop. “Y-you are in charge tiny, just you not me. P-please just do something.” I smiled at him taking orders,” I knew you could do it baby.” Then, I shoved my mouth down as far as I could go.

Of course, not all of it could fit in my mouth so I jerked off the rest. Moving at a past I was good with, my jaw was burning while I sat there choking and gaging all over his cock. I looked up to see his head thrown back while he was muttering out swear words and praises. It wasn’t long before he shoot his seed straight into my mouth, hitting the very back of my throat. Yet, not all of it managed to make it in my mouth some landing on the sheets. As, Anton tried to gather himself I let go of his cock and slowly started fondling his balls then sucking on them. “W-wait fuck baby I just came. Hold on shit.” I ignored his pleas and moved my mouth straight back to his cock again. While still cupping his balls in one hand, squeezing them occasionally. This time it didn’t take him long, since he had already came it was fairly easy to make it happen again. He tried to close his legs to push me way by then I decided to be evil at that moment, deep throating him.

“Oo f-fuck.” And just like that I moved back and his cum shot straight in my face, all over my shirt and neck. Anton leaned back, all used and abused. I smiled at how overstimulated he looked right now. Then, I took the shirt off my body and slide the shorts off my legs. Leaving me in nothing but my panties. He finally looked at me and watched as his cum slide down my face and onto my neck and boobs. “Shit you’re unreal.” I laughed at that, sliding back on his lap. Throwing my leg over his thigh, to cage him in. “Baby, remember what you said? You wanted to make me feel good. And I haven’t gotten to cum. Can you make me cum please. Wanna cum on your cock please.” He stared at me only really focusing on my breast’s in this moment while nodding his head frantically.

Was this manipulation, you may ask? In a way of course. But I always manage to get what I want and I had a point to prove. Looking down he was hard as a rock again. At this rate I wouldn’t even have to do anything, he could probably get off just by looking at me. Slowly, I lined him up while looking into his eyes and sank down on him. It went in inch by inch, it was always a stretch with Anton, I could take it now I just needed a minute. He started to yank on the handcuffs yet again wanting to be feel with the stimulation wrapping around his cock right now. After a while, I finally sank down fully. He was balls deep inside of me and we both couldn’t stop moaning. Leaning in to kiss him all we could do is moan into each other’s mouths.

I moved at my own past while he leaned down to suck my nipple straight into his mouth. He had a thing for my boobs, why I would never think to question in this moment. Not when it felt so fucking good. He was hitting spots in my I could never reach not with my toys and definitely not my fingers. “So g-good tiny, love you so much right now. Look so beautiful on top of me. Best view.” I could tell by the words and the high pitched voice he was completely pussy drunk now. So, I began to bounce on him think my ass back in a way I knew he could never resist. He was hitting that spot so deep inside of me. “F-fuck so deep, in my stomach ton.” But looking at him he was gone just barely a brain in there. Looking down to watch the white ring around the base of his cock, caused by me. He threw his head back again while pushing his hips up further inside of me.

Eventually, he managed to get up, raising his knees up to stand on his feet and drill his hips into me. After a while, we both were close I could tell once he started to get tired and whispered in his ear to let me finish the job and I started to circle my hips in a motion I knew he loved and just like that he came inside of me causing me to cum right after him. We were both spent, yet I wasn’t finished. Gathering the rest of my strength i leaned into his ear. “One more baby. Just give me one more.” Hearing this his eyes widened, “can’t do another baby. I can’t.” I looked at him and started to pout, “yes you can baby just one more it all I need. Just always want your cock. Can’t get enough of it.” He shook his head free some time and I took that as the cue and started to bounce of him frantically. “Take them off p-please baby. I’ll be good for you. Always will.” Hearing that I contemplated taking them off. “Only for me?” He nodded his head. I reached up to unlock them, rubbing his wrists. But he quickly discarded that and pulled me closer by the hips, hugging my body.

While my head was on top of his, he held me closer and I started to move faster. “Can’t cum again tiny.” Hearing him speaking up I looked down at his face to notice the tears. Grabbing ahold of his face while still moving, “last time baby I promise. Just want you to cream my pussy again baby. Wanna feel it deep inside of me again. Wanna feel it for days, wanna feel you.” He groaned yet couldn’t stopped crying and pulled me back to him. The room was filled with moans, muffled cries and constant skin clapping. Cum swept across my face from Anton’s previous load. Getting an idea I leaned in to kiss him biting his bottom lip, having him cry out for more. It was filthy, smeared cum landed on his cheek and yet it felt so fucking good. I shoved my tongue in his mouth eating and swallowing his moans just like my pussy was swallowing his cock right now. We were beyond sweaty and tired but I refused to stop until I got my point across. “Shit baby love you so much.” Once he said those words I leaned my hand further down my body to play with my clit, knowing we were both about to cum. “Come on baby, give it to me fill me up. Want all your cum. Your tiny little cum bucket.” He moaned out loud and jerked his hips forward causing me to scream out loud as well. And then we both finished, completely exhausted.

After a minute, I moved to get up until Anton pulled me back down mumbling something about staying with him forever. I smiled and pushed his hair out the way, cuddling into him. “4 times ton.” He finally looked up at me and was able to actually give a coherent what. “I made you cum 4 times baby not 3.” He just smiled and held me closer pulling my waist further into his body, reaching down into that very spot again causing us both to moan with cock still being inside me. “Love you tiny.” I kissed his cheek while pulling the covers on top of us, “I love you too baby.” When I tried to move next to him he stopped me saying he wanted to stay inside tonight. “ it’s warm and cozy in there I love it.” I hit his head, “is that your way of saying I will wake up to you rutting into my pussy?” He laughed at that, “you mean a mind blowing sex, maybe.”

I literally rewrote this and the crazy past is, this version is ten times better. Weird shit, I’ve learned I won’t write at school cuz the internet always causing me to lose my work. And second sorry this took so long y’all, it’s like the end of the year is kicking in and I keep getting project after project. Thank you for being patient with me. Ignore that message saying I will quit writing I’m just dramatic as fuck. Love all y’all 🤷‍♀️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[antiquitiesandlabyrinths]

Kemeticism Under the Advice of Ptah-Hotep:

Maxim 3

As mentioned in my previous post, maxims 2-4 concern themselves with debate amongst adversaries of equal, lesser, and greater footing. This maxim deals with an opponent of equal stature.

Translation of Maxim 3

In debate with an equal opponent, your skill is shown to its best advantage if you remain silent while he flounders in speech. The audience will be unmoved by his arguments while your reputation will soar in the eyes of the great ones.

Breakdown:

Lesson

Jacq's Translation

Direct Translation

It is better to remain silent in arguments with an equal adversary.

“… your skill is shown to its best advantage, if you remain silent while he flounders in speech.”

“If you get into a debate with your equal… make sure that you act so that your superiority (your skill) is manifest by silence, while he expresses himself badly.”

Pride through attempting to protect your image is a downfall that will lead to failure. One's words must be chosen carefully.

"... your skill is shown... if you remain silent... your reputation shall be perfect in the spirit of the great ones."

"... act so that your superiority is manifest by silence... your reputation shall be perfect in the spirit of the great ones."

Those who talk more and talk over other people often fail in their speech.

“… while he expresses himself badly (as you are silent). Those who listen to him will think badly of him whereas your reputation shall be perfect in the spirit of the great ones.”

“Those who listen to him will think badly of him, whereas your reputation shall be perfect in the spirit* of the great ones.”

* - Also translated as, 'in the knowledge of the great ones,' in the Prisse Papyrus.

Ptah-Hotep highly advises quietude as a positive attribute, and negates the aim of putting down an opponent with emotion. This shows both a great deal of wisdom, as well as a distinct absence of pride. An absence of pride, and in its’ place a lifestyle of asceticism is typically considered an eastern concept from the religions of Buddhism and certain sects of Hinduism. However within Ptah-Hotep’s advice exist inklings of a school of thought familiar to the east; one which encourages certain aspects of asceticism.

Speech in argument is often mired in pride. There is a distinct need and desire to protect your image in the minds of onlookers and listeners, who may judge you for being 'put down' by the words of your opponent. But why does one fear the judgement of others? Pride is something we all constantly carry, given to us by the notion that we are in any way special, whether especially good or bad. Generally, however, pride’s self-importance gives us a sense that we are better. But even the idea that we are better than animals, better than plants, is misled. All things are equal in their worth, because in truth there is nothing that has any tangible worth. Death rids us, and every other thing on earth, of any worth. As the Teachings of Prince Hordedef state,

“Accept that death humbles us, accept that life exalts us, the house of death is for life.”

Death makes us humble. It takes away our worth and makes it so we are all equal.

Life exalts us. It makes us feel wonderful, and does wonderful things for us, but this exaltation is temporary. Does it mean that this exaltation is false? Is it a lie? I do not believe so. As temporary as our worth on this planet is, it is true in that moment, but it can be taken away in a second, which is why it is bad to base any of your ka's worth on your material worth.

Death and its' many rituals and accompaniments are an honouring of life. As soon as death takes away our material worth, it gives us spiritual worth, and ascends us into a state of Blessedness. Material worth and material desire, including such things as pride, our money, our status, and even our material bodies, are temporary and fleeting.

This state of Blessedness after death is something achieved by all who follow Ma'at and the yearnings of their creative energy, their ka. But it is something that can be achieved during life, and something that can make one happy and enriched for all time; enriched not by the material wealth they congregate, but by the great spiritual mind which acts purely upon Ma'at and the happiness of the Gods, no longer attached to temporary pleasures and the uncontrollable emotions which flood from the gut, our place of primitive emotion.

Control consists not of a lack of material desire, but having desires and being able to not succumb to them, which may then lead to a lack of material desire. Control means no material desire, no pride that is succumbed to, and thus well-expressed thoughts and words that are not hindered by pride and the workings of the gut, instead inspired by the workings of the ka, your heart.

[sophieinwonderland]

I think sociology can have its uses too and would absolutely encourage those sorts of studies into systems.

But I do believe neurology and psychology have more advantages for the plural community.

First, in the syscourse debate, one of the most popularly parroted lines is that endogenic systems are "scientifically impossible." Psychology and neurology can combat that. And no, it won't instantly end all fakeclaiming. Not everyone will believe the science, as we can see with how many people still think vaccines cause autism. But it's a weapon we can utilize to start shutting anti-endos down.

Like, "fuck the public" is a cute sentiment. But when the public are actively fakeclaiming and harassing endogenic systems... I think maybe these issues need to be addressed so fewer endogenic systems get fakeclaimed and harassed. Just a thought. 🤷‍♀️

Anti-endos may never be completely eliminated, but scientific validation can at least ensure that they'll be relegated to the same status in the public eye as anti-vaxxers and flat-Earthers.

At another level though, tulpamancy is psychology. (At least, for the majority of tulpamancers who have a psychological view of it.)

It's admittedly a loose form of psychology with no budget, and it's based more on case studies than hard data. But it's psychology nonetheless.

We can use psychology to understand plurality and by extension, find better more efficient ways to make tulpas, refine our various tulpamancy skills, and come across new skills we hadn't considered before. Better, more refined tulpamancy methods can mean quicker results, which means fewer prospective tulpamancers give up part-way through the creation process, which means more successful tulpamancers, which means a larger group of endogenic plurals with more political power.

On the flip side, current research into tulpamancy is interested in how tulpamancy techniques could actually be used to learn about voice hearing and dissociative disorders. This research could hopefully prove helpful to the medical community in developing new treatments for these conditions.

A distant hope may even be that studies looking into the positive mental health of tulpamancers could eventually lead to clinical trials to treat disorders such as depression. And if it could provide a successful treatment method, that would be pretty awesome in my opinion.

Sociology is valid too and both types of research can co-exist and be valuable in different ways. But I thing between psychology and sociology, the former is going to prove the more useful field for plural research. And I think plural research will benefit the field of psychology too.

[reckless-lambert]

Question what do you think of infinite from Sonic forces (don't skip any detail I would like to hear this)

WOAH HELLO!! OK OK OK OK you're in for a ride because I am kinda crazy about this guy.

Right off the bat I wanna say that imo he's not a bad character. Like not in a sense of potential or whatever, I did like him in general.

To try to keep myself on track there will be 3 topics I'll give my opinions on: powers, backstory, character.

POWERS

First of all I don't think that he is a pushover. If we are talking about measuring strength of a character based on their bossfight pretty much all sonic characters up until 06 have bad bossfights that can be finished in seconds so it's not a good measuring point. In terms of lore there are many many many theories to be had, I prefer to look at his encounters from a story standpoint (we don't talk about dying to a flamethrower in 0.5 seconds accident). I think it's safe to assume that Infinite was a capable fighter (hence the title), him being beaten by Shadow doesn't really tell us anything, Shadow is arguably the most powerful character in sonic series so losing to him is to be expected. Infinite was just a very skilled mercenary, what was he supposed to do against teleporting, regenerating, super fast living plasma cannon?!?

Anyways if we are talking about real encounters (after him getting ruby powers) there are many ways to interpret it (other than just saying that it's bad). Here's my understanding of the events. Sonic gets captured at the start of the game because Infinite just overwhelmed him with quality and numbers. After this the whole war happens (no one talks about Infinite conquering 99.9% of the world), Sonic escapes and encounters Infinite in mystic jungle, this time around we can see that Infinite doesn't have illusions of past villains helping him so it's safe to assume that his powers are actually pretty finite (he can't uphold too many illusions all over the world at once, first time he had them helping because he wasn't using them elsewhere), he still beats Sonic and leaves.

Next time we see him in Metropolis, here we see avatar pretty much matching him with his own bullshit (I have a magical rock that neutralises your magical rock) which is fine by me and Infinite still comes out on top thanks to energy blasts and presumed better fighting skills. Escape to null space can be blamed on phantom ruby prototype again. As to why Infinite didn't use it before I assume Eggman and Infinite invented this ability not that long ago.

For the last encounter, Infinite doesn't have to distribute his illusions all over the world so he uses them in battle, but still has a hard time because numbers advantage is no longer on his side + he probably struggles to control so many entities at once so the quality is diminished drastically. He decides that using an all out attack is a better tactic, but yet again kindergarten logic applies so the sun doesn't explode (rock to rock shenanigans). Despite the sun doing nothing I think it drained Infinite's resources drastically + he was using only the backup power. So in the end avatar and Sonic finally beat weakened Infinite only for him to be transported somewhere and never seen again.

In my opinion we can clearly see that Jackal wasn't defeated by power of friendship or avatar or whatever else people tend to say as some sort of parrots. Infinite was defeated only by his own hubris and his own kind of magic. I think he did alright all things considered. He was pretty powerful and I'm fine with the way things played out. The only thing lacking here is good presentation, people just don't take the plot seriously so it all crumbles, but I don't think that it's fair to say that someone is not powerful because you don't take the stakes of the story seriously. Still can't believe that people call a guy with power to create rockets and lasers out of thin air and change gravity at will "all talk". The only reason our characters are alive is thanks to phantom ruby prototypes and Infinite's weird fondness of main cast (if you are complaining about sega not outright killing sonic or other main characters, Infinite is not the one you should blame + I have some ideas as to why he does that described later).

BACKSTORY

Infinite's initial motivation is fiiiine. As we can see in his prequel comic his main desire is to ruin, he even says that "he is tired of this world" at the end of it. So it's safe to assume that our Jackal doesn't like how things are going and wants to overthrow the current world order. As to why he is that way it's up for debate (more about it later). That desire is what drives him towards Eggman.

After unspecified amount of time "episode Shadow" happens. Shadow presumably kills the whole Jackal squad except Infinite whom he deems unworthy of killing and throughoutly insults him instead (super mean! Shadow wtf!). Infinite in attempt to somehow amend his self image after losing everything he had (all thanks to his ambition and Shadow btw), decides to abandon his old self as if it was a different person (sad to look at) and double down on alliance with Eggman because it's all he has left - professor's promise of greatness, something to cling onto. So that's how we get to forces. Some might say that Infinite doesn't really enact revenge on Shadow in any way, but there're still things to consider: 1. He actively avoids his old identity, so you can say that he avoids Shadow and feelings tied to him in the same way (doesn't necessarily mean that he doesn't feel them) 2. Eggman could have done some mental gymnastics with the Jackal. It's pretty easy considering that Shadow is a self proclaimed guardian of this world (he made a promise and all of that) + he works for GUN. So what better way to enact revenge than to ruin all the things your enemy stands for? Bonus points for this objective coinciding with his initial motivation.

Those options are something I thought of, I think they create a rather straight forward narrative + nobody said that those are the only ones.

Anyways I hate how people yet again somehow diled his story down to "Shadow beat him called him ugly and now hes bad". As if killing his whole squad is nothing, like Infinite's character can be interpreted in many ways, but even if you think that he is a cold hearted killing machine - how can he live as a captain and a sole survivor of the squad, it's the end of his mercenary life if captain is the only one standing that means he fucked up real bad it's the ultimate failure, there's no recovering your career after that.

CHARACTER

I saved this one for last because It's almost purely my headcanons and subjective opinions. Anyways as I mentioned above Infinite is not fond of current civilization for some reason. My take is that:

1. He hates united federation for some reason. I think it would be funny if jackal squad were some sort of child soldiers GUN experimented on. Desert is already torn apart by bandits Eggman and feds fighting all over the place, no one will notice random street orphans missing (a lil metal gear revengeance brainrot for ya). But they deserted and became a more evil versions of desert raiders from Archie becoming a nuisance for every party involved: collecting bounties, raiding Eggman's bases and GUN convoys - earning reputation and fame. But jackals' hate for their previous captors is not forgotten and it's also mutual as UF probably wants them dead as soon as possible because they are a living proof of their dark deeds.

2. I think Infinite has problems coping with all the things he was deprived of. His first instinct is hate "how dare they live normal happy lives while I'm fighting for my life every day!" And because all he knows is conflict he thinks that living by jungle rules is the only right way and everyone else is living a lie (that's how I interpret his lyrics). So his desire to ruin the civilisation stems from his idea that jungle rules shall return, and UF citizens should suffer the same way he does. (Spreading misery is fun amiright)

Also I don't think that jackal squad was a family or a friend group, more like a congregation of equaly fucked up individuals who kinda trust each other with tasks, as soon as they deem you a burden they will abandon you. Also imagine the pressure captain of such group would endure. Infinite is not ok. He is partially driven by pride, but also by peer pressure of his fellow child soldiers, being cruel = being strong. As a leader he must be the strongest. That's why his sadism might not be inherent to his character. Also I do think that he was bullied in his unregulated child environment, heterochromia and girly tendencies make him a prime target (CMON PEOPLE dude has the longest hair in the whole franchise and presumably lived in highly militarized environment, there will be problems). I guess he just powered through (it's hard to bully you when you are the strongest).

Anyways coming back to episode Shadow I think Infinite was so scared of not being in control, being pretty much bullied by some stranger. So he did what he always does - search for more power.

Interesting side note here is that Infinite doesn't really have ambition, he doesn't create himself a castle or even a throne (and he is someone with power to create things from thin air, for example it took Zetis 1-2 days to throw together those in idw, he doesn't do it despite having the whole year). He just wants power to not be pushed around and push around others (I IMPLORE you to understand, he is not a nice person, but it doesn't mean that people should just give up on him, my boy needs help).

Also I think episode Shadow warped his brain really hard, like he tries so hard to re-enact his own trauma onto others many many times despite clearly seeing it not working except the first time with avatar. Like we can clearly see that it's all he thinks about, how not deeming someone worthy of killing is the most painful thing he can inflict on them, far more painful than just outright killing the guy. This hinders his critical thinking really hard and it's sad to look at.

Anyways that's pretty much all of my thoughts on this guy (says the guy who thinks about him every day for past 1.5 years, I can mumble on and on, but it will never end if I do), hope you enjoyed!

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 48

Cw: Butcher’s Ball, childbirth complications, hallucinations, attempted murder

Gif by @daemonsdarksister

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @alexandria-millie @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Their men were laid out as if they had been killed at a feast.

They have been like that in every village they have marched through these four days.

A grotesque thing Aemond is glad he isn’t walking through.

Because his mission is of great urgency, he attacks only if he must. House Darry folds at the sight of him and Lady Darry tearfully asks him to spare her infant son after Criston obliterated her husband and eldest sons in battle when they first marched out of Kingslanding.

Criston’s hand shook as if remembering an ill prophecy and agreed no harm will come to those who surrendered.

Something he hadn’t done when they set out. Had the chill of the Stranger in the air caught to him too?

Crossed Elms proves that nagging feeling right.

Their enemy had more men, fresh horses and every advantage they lacked.

Save for a dragon.

Archers attack them in woods unknown to them, Aemond is not spared as he tries to evade them in the air.

Vhagar’s too large and old to perform like a younger and sleeker dragon.

And they knew that.

So he and Cole call for a parley, just enough to buy them time.

“If I strike my banners, do you promise us our lives?” he asked the three of them.

Three seasoned and grizzly commanders, such men bore scars and dents in their armor enough to make Cole look green as grass.

Aemond felt like a squire pretending to be a man. Like the little boy who used to wear Daemon’s winged helm as he stand before Ser Garibald Grey, Pate of Longleaf ,now called Longleaf the Lionslayer, and Rodrick ‘Roddy the Ruin’ Dustin.

Men who won the Fishfeed with only their wits and skill.

They have no chance against them even with Vhagar.

“I made my promise to the dead,” Ser Garibald replied. “I told them I would build a sept for them out of traitors’ bones. I don’t have near enough bones yet, so…”

No.

They choose to fight on knowing their victory is assured.

If he dies he will die with Aemma’s name in his lips, like all the knights in the songs.

Ser Criston answered, “If there is to be battle here, many of your own will die as well.”

The Northman, Roderick Dustin, laughed at his words, saying, “That’s why we come. Winter’s here. Time for us to go. No better way to die than sword in hand.”

Ser Criston drew his longsword from its scabbard. “As you will it. We can begin here, the four of us. One of me against the three of you. Will that be enough to make a fight of it?”

It won’t, they won’t give in. They know better than to let them live.

So Aemond interrupts with the thing that may make them change their mind.

“The King is dying, our mother’s own cupbearer poisoned him after her brother failed to kill me. Queen Aemma, the queen you fight to liberate is nearing her time. If you let us go you have my word that her son will be named king and I will not move a finger to take what is hers by right.” The prince regent said hoping to make them change their minds.

“We know, we took down your ravens and your riders. The question is, how do you know that?” Red Robb Rivers and his sister, Alysanne Blackwood, asked coming down the ridge with their archers.

Oh, they were fucked.

“Dragon Dreams, I have been plagued by them for the past five nights. The king in his bed weak by the poison and the queen in hers as she brings forth her babe.” He lies. Better blame his Valyrian blood than tell them the witch is in his mother’s employ. “For all I know both my brother and his wife are already dead and the babe with them.”

The men are divided about it, but those of the north, especially the silver haired Crannogman with eyes as green as Vhagar’s flames seem to believe him.

“The First Men have Seers too. You may go, but only you.” Roddy the Ruin said, thank the gods for the Northman and their superstitions.

“Go, your brother needs you more than I.” Criston said as Aemond looked at him for the last time. “Godspeed, your highness.”

Vhagar is scarcely in the air when what’s left of their men and the Lord Commander are killed by a rain of arrows.

Garibald Grey would later call it Butcher’s Ball.

The babe is taking its sweet time to come.

The queen has been in labor for a day, and the midwives and maesters are close to giving up.

She has walked up and down the hall, she has been given castor oil, she has been moved by the midwives on the blanket and nothing is working.

“There is a way.” A maester suggested as Silverwing echoes her rider’s scream.

There is no real need for it, not yet.

But the queen knows the whore is the reason her son is half dead in his bed.

If she’s gone, Aegon will live and so would her two younger sons.

The only way her family is safe is if all of Rhaenyra’s family is dead.

They see will see you as you are, the dead princess whispers behind her as blood runs down Alicent’s hands.

Yes, they will, they will see a mother who would do anything for her children, the queen bites her tongue lest they think her mad.

Her aunt went mad, Denyse who was committed to the Motherhouse for fear of shaming them.

They would lock her up too ,if they knew.

“No. We cannot.” Gerardys and Orywle are of the same mind on this.

If she dies any chance for peace is gone.

If she dies like her namesake did, Aegon will be known as her killer.

But her family will be safe from her and that is all that matters.

Queen Alicent chooses to override them. “The king’s heir is at risk, if we wait longer both she and the babe will be lost.

If we must choose, we need to choose the king’s son over his mother.”

There is clear horror in their faces as she says this.

Even Alys cannot hide it in hers.

“Your grace, will you not reconsider it?” the aging midwife pleaded with her. The same woman who helped bring Aemma into the world now being told to help them take her out of it.

“If we do not decide now---” the queen pretended to care for her gooddaughter's wellbeing and yet she is interrupted by the all too familiar roar.

Aemond.

She had told Alys not to summon Aemond, why had she gone against her wishes?

If he is here he will choose her.

How can she save her family if they refuse to let her?

“Maester Orwyle, do what you must to save the prince.” The queen ordered and the man did as ordered.

He can hear screams, those of his men and Aemma’s in Silverwing’s roars ringing in his ears as he rides his coal black horse like a madman.

Aegon was weak but not dying, Aemma was having trouble delivering their babe.

His mother had ordered for them to save the babe at the cost of it’s mother.

This was the news he received the moment he arrived.

We have lost the Riverlands, was all he had to say in turn.

It would be a mercy if Aegon died now.

If Aemma died with their babe, Joffrey would be made king with his Lady of Runestone beside him. Nothing would stop Daemon from burning the city to the ground nor his men from sacking it.

If Aegon died, but Aemma lived, Aemond would be king and have the upperhand in negotiations.

There would be other children and even if she is left barren she had three brothers and two cousins to provide heirs for House Targaryen.

They would wed and all will be righted before winter sets in.

“Whatever you do, save the queen.” He orders as he raced against time.

It helped both were in the same suite of rooms saving him the trouble of having to choose which bedside he goes to.

Her screams bring a chill to his bones not unlike Criston’s and his men’s.

“If you fail to save the queen I will kill all of you myself.” Aemond runs to her instead of his brother.

Aemma cries out for him, covered in sweat, blood and tears.

They were going to cut her open. Mother had given the order.

The moment Aemma is safe, he will have her placed under custody.

His mother had very knowingly committed treason, but that look in her eyes speaks of madness.

Madness he’s never seen before.

“I’m here, Aemee, I’m here.” The prince takes her sweat covered hand and kissed it as if it would will her to keep fighting. “You can’t leave , not when I’ve only just returned, sweet girl.”

His reputation be damned, he won’t leave her and he won’t let his mother kill her.

[hasensalat]

Is there a way in which fem!Laurent could have survived the canon storyline?

Let's think of an AU where everything is exactly the same except for one thing: Laurent was born a girl. A very depressing thought under the cut. (TW: Rape, abortion)

Our Laurene would be just as cunning, beautiful and skilled as her male counterpart, but at a heavy disadvantage. Because being a woman in her current situation would add a whole new layer of fuckery: The risk of pregnancies.

The Regent used rape (by himself and by proxy) as a weapon against male!Laurent and he barely survived that. But being targeted by a murderous rapist in a society where pregnancies out of wedlock equal social suicide, while having an uterus? Yeah no. This would be the biggest threat Laurene would face, and the Regent would use everything it takes to make that threat come true. That alone is a horror story in itself, but the consequences of it would be just as horrendous for Laurene if she indeed falls forcibly pregnant:

Option 1: The Regent makes Laurene's pregnancy public, feigning she had some kind of affair, and thereby defacing her. Possibly stripping her of her titles and legally skipping her in the line of succession, making the Regent actually the next in line?

Option 2: The Regent pretends to be the worried uncle and makes her secretly abort for "her own good". Maybe even with the council's knowledge and blessing. Medieval abortions were highly unsafe in the first place, often done by drinking questionable herbal tinctures with poisonous ingredients. Not surviving this procedure was a very real possibility. And now, if somebody spiked that already poisonous mixture with yet another deadly poison, who would even question if Laurene doesn't make it through?

Option 3: The Regent pushes for Laurene to marry her rapist, so the child won't be a bastard. Married off, Laurene would be basically out of the picture, especially if the husband is some low-born guy like a... Govart. And not only would she be terribly miserable, but her reputation might be damaged beyond repair regardless.

All of this would be such a dire problem to deal with for Laurene, I can hardly see a solution for her to survive.

Male!Laurent was sent away with a small army for border control, unfolding all the events past CaPri. And while this had been originally a plot by the Regent to get Laurent killed, Laurent eventually managed to use the situation in his favor. Would it be the same for fem!Laurent? So far, every soldier we have seen was male. In a society were gender is strictly seperated, would she be allowed to travel with a few dozen men as a sole woman? I don't think so...

But even if she does somehow find a way to overcome the danger of potential pregnancies (and all of the added trauma), there is another thing...

Meaning, non of the events past book 1 would unfold in an AU as this, and Laurene would be stuck in Arles.

I believe there is only a single advantage Laurene has over her male counterpart, which is offering herself in marriage to somebody powerful. She could strike a deal with Torveld or similiar (if it isn't too late for her at that point). Actually, marrying as soon as possible would probably be her safest bet, keeping her somewhat safe from the horrors mentioned before. Though, that would not necessarily make her happier. Laurene would end up an unhappy teenage bride marrying out of a dire need for survival.

I can't see a way for her. Poor girl seems to be bound to lose, no matter what she does...

What do you think? Is there any way forward for Laurene?

[blackjackkent]

Today in "Rakha makes everyone just a little bit worse"... we have officially convinced everyone in camp that listening to the Dream Guardian is a good thing and we should slurp the worms.

Astarion and Karlach were already on board. Gale decides without any input from Rakha that he sees "no harm" in taking the worms, given the existential threat the Absolute poses. Shadowheart (after a Persuasion check from Rakha) agreed that it was worth taking every advantage available.

But of course, because they're her best friends and greatest influences, the most interesting conversations are with Wyll and Lae'zel.

-----

"I had another dream last night. The visitor came to me and ordered me to penetrate the heart of the very cult that's spreading the infection. It gave me a tadpole gift too. Just like it did the first time it appeared. I suppose it hoped this would help. At first I thought we should avoid these 'gifts,' no matter what advantage we gain. And yet... I can't help but recall the words of my father. 'The best plan is the one that works.' These powers could be enough to edge us towards victory."

Rakha, deeply relieved to hear him coming around to her point of view: "We need these powers to infiltrate the cult. This is 'the plan that works.'"

"Very well. If it's mind games these parasites wish to play, we'll play. And we'll win."

-----

"Another dream, another order from that dubious visitor. It announced that we will find the answers that we seek in the Absolute cultists' lair - and offered another generous 'gift'. A persuasive creature. It tempts us with power, expresses its admiration, its adoration. Avert your eyes, whenever it appears. And do not avail yourself of this new power, no matter how alluring. You've no idea what damage it could do to us, how far into illithid madness it could drag us."

Rakha trusts Lae'zel so instinctively in all other matters that disagreeing with her here is hard - but with all the others behind her now and the memory of the dream-peace in her head, she has to try. "We can use this skill to manipulate the cultists. We'd be fools to refuse it."

"Battles are won with swords, not mind-games born of brain-worms. The ones we fight with these cultists will be no different. And there *will* come a battle, of that I'm most certain. The one truth that fell out of the dream figure's cankered lips."

"These dreams linger in my memory. Do you think that strange figure will come back?" No doubt Lae'zel can hear the flash of hope in the words. Rakha wants the visitor to come back, to bring her a peaceful night again... like the craving for a drug.

"It is a certainty," she says coolly. "I had assumed our parasites served a ghaik Elder, but I believe they serve a greater master still."

"A greater master? Who - or what - could that be?"

"A question that burns in my belly day and night. Elders and collectives abide by their own tenets. It would require a powerful Creed to unite them. And now this voice, this Creed, finds our own ears. If it reaches this plane, it may reach others?"

"Have you thought about making use of the tadpole's power?" Rakha asks, prodding the subject cautiously.

"Mark my words," Lae'zel snaps. "This power would be no blessing but a curse. You might as well ask me to gouge out my eyes for the promise of sight, or slice off my tongue for the promise of taste. Consume all the ghaik tadpoles you wish. I'm not so craven."

[PERSUASION] "If we must bear the tadpoles' burden, we should also avail ourselves of their power," Rakha points out.

(A/N: 21 on a DC20, out of the park. XD Whatever feelings Lae'zel caught during their night together are doing a number on her.)

Lae'zel flinches uncertainly. "Perhaps you..." she begins, then catches herself and scowls. "No, that's absurd. When the tadpole has stretched to every pore and slithered through every vein, what am I to do then? It won't hear my screams. It won't care if I beg. I will be remade in its image." Her shoulders straighten defiantly. "My faith in Vlaakith will guide me and my own might will sustain me. I have no need of this depraved power."

Perhaps she is right. But Rakha is too lost in her own memories - of the Guardian, of using the worm - to let the matter go. She wants Lae'zel on her side.

[PERSUASION] "This Cult of the Absolute is dangerous," she says firmly, holding Lae'zel's gaze. "We should take all the help we can get."

(A/N: I was fully expecting a higher DC for this second check but it's actually LOWER - 18 instead of 20. Oh, Rakha, you're a bad influence. Poor Lae'zel.)

Lae'zel frowns. And then her shoulders slump and she looks away. "You... you might be right," she mutters haltingly. "The githyanki have long studied ghaik and used what we've learned. The zaith'isk itself was devised from such knowledge." Her voice strengthens as she lets herself be persuaded by Rakha's intensity just as Rakha has, in the past, been persuaded by hers. "The tadpole is perhaps not just a curse, but a weapon I can twist and mold to my advantage."

She sets her jaw. "Very well. I will swallow my disgust and avail myself of the parasite's powers."

Rakha feels herself relax distinctly. Good. Good... It pained her surprisingly deeply to feel at odds with Lae'zel and Wyll on this matter... but both have seen the logic and accepted it. It is a deep, comforting relief.

[scorpionatori]

Top 5 Backstories in Anime/Manga

5. “Cushion of Grass” - Mushishi

“In this world, every person and place has a right to exist. It’s true for you, too. Nature itself allowed you to come back. The entire world as a whole is your home.”

Although Mushishi has a more "monster of the week" structure and isn't focused on developing fleshed out character arcs, the series still gives us two wonderful backstory episodes about our protagonist, Ginko. In "Cushion of Grass", an older mushi-shi comes across a young Ginko who's collapsed in the woods, surrounded by mushi. Ginko stays for a little while, but things take a turn for the worse when Ginko accidentally drops the egg of the unborn mountain lord, killing it.

While adult Ginko is a content and capable traveler and professional, child Ginko is a lonely outcast without a home or any place he can permanently stay, given he attracts mushi. It's even revealed that other mushi-shi would take advantage of him to attract mushi to different areas so he could get them jobs.

Ginko doesn't think someone like him belongs anywhere. And then he causes the death of the new mountain lord. But despite this, he's allowed to return to the world after getting pulled into the world of mushi. The man who had been looking after him tells him that, although he can't forgive him for what he did, he needs to remember that he belongs in this world. That every living thing has a right to exist, including him. The entire world is his home. This sets off Ginko's worldview we see throughout the series. He finds contentment in his lonely life of wandering and truly does seem to feel home wherever he is. He believes that humans and mushi both deserve to exist in the world.

"Cushion of Grass" is a beautifully written backstory, and the anime does an amazing job bringing it to life.

4. “Parent and Child” - Re:Zero

“‘I don’t love you.’ ‘I disown you.’ You are not… my son.’ I wished, you’d just say that to me, and throw me away. I wished, you’d give up on me.” - Natsuki Subaru

How Re:Zero fans watched this and still thought Subaru was just some whiny annoying protagonist who never learns his lessons is beyond me. In this, we truly see how much he has grown as he undergoes the Witch's trial in the Sanctuary.

Even with this series being full of truly tragic backstories, the story of Subaru's normal childhood still made me the most emotional.

Subaru is a very smart and talented kid with skills all around and a charismatic personality. He's good at school and sports and is very popular. His father is the same way, and he grows up constantly being compared to him. His identity ends up becoming wrapped up in the image of his father. Although this may seem harmless and although his father did nothing wrong, the constant comparisons give Subaru a highly idealized view of who he's supposed to be, and he eventually becomes incredibly burnt out by all the expectations placed on him to be as amazing as his father. He starts self-sabotaging, neglecting his studies and getting into trouble with the other kids. Eventually he stops going to school altogether and locks himself in his room all day.

Despite having people who care about him and growing up being praised, Subaru truly hates himself. He even admits he wishes his loving parents would beat him and get rid of him, because he thinks that's what he deserves. It feels devastating to him that someone as low as him would receive any form of love. He intentionally tries to make himself a lazy and worthless human being, hoping it will cause people to resent him the way he resents himself.

In the trial, he finally has to confront this aspect of himself and he does so with success.

3. Twilight’s backstory - Spy x Family

“I didn’t know anything. I never did. I didn’t know the real reason the war had started. I thought there wouldn’t be a war at all. I’d been convinced they’d all died in the bombing. I hated the enemy without knowing why. I picked up a gun without knowing why. I obeyed my country without knowing why. Ignorance isn’t bliss. Ignorance is weakness. Ignorance is a sin.” - Agent Twilight

Despite being a comedy manga, Spy x Family does not shy away from the horrors of war, especially when it gives us Agent Twilight’s backstory. The arc opens up on Twilight and his friends as children playing a game about war, and Twilight is by far the most into it. As we continue and see him talk about the political conflict and clash with his father, we find out he strongly glorifies war and demonizes the enemy, the country of Ostania. He’s been fed propaganda against the enemy, even to the point where he and all the children believe the Ostanians are literal monsters. But then a war completely breaks out and steals everything from him. His town is bombed, and then the town he and his mother escape to. His mother is killed in the second bombing and he becomes a homeless war orphan. When he’s older he joins the military, determined to crush the enemy. He becomes a very capable and destructive soldier.

His life changes after meeting his now friend Frankie, an enemy soldier who thinks the war is stupid and pointless. He’s disillusioned when Frankie tells him that the Ostanian’s were fed the exact same propaganda as the Westalian’s on Twilight’s side, and that both sides are just human beings fighting a pointless war. He realizes he’s been living a life of ignorance. This is how he becomes a spy and vows to prevent another war from every happening again.

Overall, this arc is one of my favorite pieces of anti-war media I’ve seen. It depicts how dangerous and evil propaganda and ignorance is, and how it turns people against each other only to feed a political agenda. The panels depicting the aftermath of the bombings are truly chilling, and Endo doesn’t sanitize how horrible the war is, even if this is normally just supposed to be a funny manga.

2. “A World Unbent” - Natsume Yuujinchou

“If I keep going, I might find out how to get rid of this thing. Without it, I won’t have to feel so irritated. I might be able to be a nicer person. Even to my family…” - Natori

“Maybe things look distorted because you try to see through these useless things.” - Matoba

The episode that solidified Natori Shuuichi as the best character in NatsuYuu for me. This backstory depicts Natori’s introduction to the world of exorcism. The plot itself is simple enough, but it’s such a beautiful character study of the character who's sadly received too much undue hate from the fandom. We see the big contrast between present day Natori and teenage Natori watching this. The former is friendly and charming and the latter is standoffish and irritable. It truly gives us a look into his inner turmoil and psyche that we don’t get to see as often in the present day.

Natori as a teen is shown to be very detached from people and surroundings, and he describes his world as “wavering”. He meets teenage Matoba, who is sure of himself and confident and never wavers. Natori immediately finds himself unable to deal with Matoba despite him being his first peer to share his abilities. He resists his assistance, fearing his accomplishments will mean nothing if they come with the help of someone more capable. We see that Natori is desperate to become strong and good enough by himself.

Contrary to how he acts present day, we see that Natori has a very low and fragile view of himself, even feeling that he’s a bad guy. He's an outcast both at home and at school, and has no one he can lean on. He's enticed to the world of exorcism, especially after meeting Takuma, who treats him with kindness. He wants to become a stronger person who helps people, and he looks for this in the exorcist community. He also hopes to one day find a way to get rid of the ominous lizard youkai that crawls around on his body. If he gets rid of it, he wonders if this will let him become a kinder person.

While present day Natori is someone who does not wear his heart on his sleeve, "A World Unbent" allows us to see deeper into him and his character in complete vulnerability. There's a beautiful aching to the narration of this episode which rivals the rest of a series full of beautiful aching narration. It makes it clear how deeply Natori is hurting, and how much he's longing to find something he can cling to in life and how much he yearns to be a kind person. It's just overall a beautiful backstory episode that provides so much depth to an already well written character.

1. “Dark Era” - Bungo Stray Dogs

“I joined the mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving into their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live.” - Dazai

“Be on the side that saves people… if both sides are the same, choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but… saving others is something just a bit more wonderful.” - Oda

Are my NatsuYuu followers surprised I ranked something even above "A World Unbent"? Long before I even watched the series my brother told me that this was the best backstory he’d ever seen. He was right. Dark Era follows the last few living days of Osamu Dazai’s friend Oda Sakunosuke, a character not introduced until this arc. Despite being best friends with the violent Port Mafia executive Dazai, Oda is a low ranking member who doesn’t kill people. His reason for not killing is that he wants to become a writer. A person who takes lives has no right to write about them. However, after getting caught in the plot of a foreign ex-military group whose boss desires the perfect person to kill him in battle, he’s driven to violently eradicate the group after they kill the orphans he’s been providing for.

Although he still has his goofy moments, we get to see how terrifying and dark Dazai was as a Port Mafia executive, ordering executions and beating and threatening his then subordinate, Akutagawa. Pointing a gun at Akutagawa’s head, he contrasts himself with Oda, a man who protects orphans and doesn’t kill people, saying the light of righteousness is not on his side. We see him at the very end of his mafia career, as Oda’s death drives him to leave.

Before he leaves to fight the group, Oda hears from Dazai that the reason he joined the mafia was because he wanted to be close to the violence and bloodshed and people giving in to human desires, hoping in it he’d find some meaning in living. While he’s dying, Oda tells Dazai he’ll never find that and he’ll never be able to fill the dark lonely hole inside of him. But he goes on to say that if neither a life of helping or a life of killing will be able to bring meaning to his existence, he should choose to become a better person and live his life saving people. That’s a more beautiful way to live.

Dazai follows his dying friend’s advice and leaves the violent Port Mafia to eventually join the Armed Detective Agency where he works now. Oda’s words were a beautiful way to approach someone as nihilistic as Dazai who saw no meaning in life and abandoned ideas of what’s good or evil. If there’s no meaning in a life of killing or a life of saving, it’s more beautiful to choose the side that saves people. Dazai's nihilistic worldview isn't argued with or challenged. Oda never tries to convince him that there will be meaning in his life if he keeps searching for it. Instead, he reminds him that beauty and good can exist in life, even if it is meaningless. Good and kindhearted Oda deeply cares for Dazai despite his friend's darkness and lack of morality, and in the end he's able to find the right thing to tell him that makes him change his lifestyle to become a better person.

Dark Era, in my opinion, is the masterpiece of Bungo Stray Dogs and is a beautiful story all on its own.

[myeagleexpert]

/ / 𝓓𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝔂𝓹𝓮 / /

Author's comment: Hello everyone! I was thinking about changing the "humans are weak and idiots" script because frankly biologically the story is quite different and I don't think we value our strengths either. How could a student without magic from a completely unknown world survive this school? With so many challenges and trials, bullies and arrogant kids everywhere? Human beings are quick to adapt to dangerous situations. A new teacher has something to say.

Content: Funny (kinda), a series of “misunderstandings”, Yuu's self-esteem boost without knowing it, inspired by human are space orcs and humans are weird.

Characters:  Professor Raoni Wamuro, Classroom students, Yuu,  feat Leona, Sebek, Ace, Deuce, Riddle Roseharts 

Notes: My first Twisted Wonderland fic, hope you like it.Yuu's gender is neutral but may have some female biases, sorry.

Want to know what happens next?

 The infamous NCR was open to a new teacher, they just couldn't imagine how much some things would change from there. The experienced Professor Raoni Wamuro entered the classroom determined to teach those troublemakers something they should never forget: the danger from humans. Something that with expertise he could confirm, being an anthropologist. Wamuro was an old man in his late 70s, or late 80s, or late 90s. He never revealed his age, but his white hair reveals his experience behind battle scars and words so serious and wise.

The students did not understand why they were having this content, some more skeptical made fun of their teacher. Wamuro would be the new teacher of teenagers full of passions and hormones, he has to capture their attention quickly because the subject is about to get more and more serious. Raoni was weaving his speech carefully, choosing the right words to get where he wanted. He started the class with an old picture that illustrated his book. A dangerous species of marine being and a human by its side. The caption of the image read: “A year, 12 people are killed by sharks. 12000 sharks are killed per hour by humans.” He remembered having this class in college, took a deep breath and started an introduction about who it is, what the subject is and its importance, however the students thought the class was too slow.

- I still don't understand why we're taking this class? Professor, we've seen humans before, they are not dangerous much less threatening!- a beastman mob interrupted Professor Wamuro

-It's a waste of time to study about them! They have no claws or fangs! How will they hunt prey?- His friend agreed with him

-They don't need claws or fangs to kill you young. They just need to outlast you. And believe me, they will. They can chase their prey for days and nights without sleeping, eating and non-stop until they manage to kill it. A good example of why their body doesn't have as much fur as beastmans, they need to balance heat so they don't overheat.- Raoni answered him and taking his silence as an answer, continued.

-Don't be naive. Don't underestimate them. Humans don't appear to be a walking danger, but they are like a ticking time bomb. Nature took pity on us and didn't grant them any magic, because it wasn't necessary. If they had, they would have destroyed everything by now. Their ambiguous and ambitious nature takes them much further.- Taking advantage of the students' doubtful silence, he continued his explanation giving more details. He couldn't help that the mood weighed when he remembered the situations he had witnessed in his years of war. How many times had he underestimated humans and been surprised by new attacks and deaths?

Raoni Wamuro was from an ancient race that battled an ancient race of humans for a long time. Humans evolved fast while their race remained the same. After retiring from the military, he decided to explore areas of knowledge still so little talked about and diversify his skills. He went from general to scientist and never stopped, his scientific research and archaeological findings are always in the most renowned and respected books and magazines in the world of Twisted Wonderland.

-Lethal machines I mean, a frighteningly complex body and minds so complicated that I consider them a labyrinth where many get lost.

-They don't stop until they reach their goals. Humans have incredible resistance, even to shocks, the ability to quickly recover from injuries and injuries, to adapt easily to any environment and stay on top of it.- he shouted loudly.

-Professor, this is..a little different from what I expected…- a fairy admitted, he didn't know about all this scientific content that surrounded human beings.

-You and your little friend can die from an infection and a simple wound, but humans…they can rip off their own limbs and survive for years. - Professor Waduro looked at him seriously, feeling a shiver run down his spine and his students too.

-They are unstoppable!

Some students couldn't help but remember all the times when Yuu, the underrated magicless prefect out of the world, threw himself to face all those overblots and others remembered how he managed to handle so many tasks that the oh  gracious Crowley put on his back.

-They have evolved a digestive system that allows them to eat poison mushrooms and ingest poisonous plants for sheer satisfaction.

"-Yuu, where are you taking this plant?" asked a beastman giraffe, he and Yuu were cleaning the Botanical Garden when he saw that the little one gathered some suspicious plants.

-It looks like a commonly used spice where I come from.- The giraffe was even more confused, in his homeland people felt very sick just by smelling this plant, some even stopped at the hospital. Why would you use it in your food?”

-They destroyed all their natural predators, staying at the top of the food chain.- A memory flashed through a coyote's head, its ears inadvertently picking up an interesting conversation.

“ - Herbivore, you have to learn your damn place. - The savanaclaw's dormleader groan at Yuu. Leona had just avoided a fight that Yuu was "involved in". A misunderstanding, Yuu said. It was challenging me, said the predator type.

-Shishishi Yuu, if it weren't for us you'd be in trouble.

-Oh, are they predators? Sorry, it's just that where I come from they don't exist anymore.- They answered honestly and without thinking too much, after all they never had to run from animals to survive. Just the chickens on their grandfather's farm that soon turned into soup. But that could not be explained in time.”

-A curious fact is that they manage to create a group of different animals and people, creating a strong bond with absolutely anything.- Professor Wamuro continued listing some curiosities about the species. A flashback flashed through the minds of many students already troubled by the similarities.

“The students were open-mouthed about the situation. A terrible chimera escaped from its cage and was terrorizing the corridors of NRC, all those who tried to dominate it or cast a spell to calm it were unsuccessful attempts. The terrifying chimera was now… lying on the ground on its back, soaking up all the affection and care that Yuu gave it, the beast purred so loudly that the ground shook, but that only made Yuu smile along with the animal they dubbed Amy .

-I've already prepared the new cage for the chimera, bring it here. - Riddle caught the attention of the prefect, who got up and called the beast

-Come on Amy! Your cage is right here my cute kitty!- Amy grumbled when her affection was cut off, but soon she started walking beside Yuu to the cage. After giving some treats to his “kitten” the prefect thanked Rosehearts with a quick hug that was soon returned. When did the crimson tyrant become so friendly?? The last one got so close to him it was off your head.”

-Humans are famous for analyzing their opponent and designing their traps. So they create many mental and physical traps to numb their victim and have fun with their mental confusion.

“She sells seashells by the seashore.”

-She shell she… ARG! Why do we even have to do this? What a useless game!- Sebek complained loudly, he had been trying the tongue-twister that the prefect brought from his world for minutes and still no results.

-Come on Sebek! It's a fun game, just to pass the time. - Yuu motivated him

-Lilia-sama would find a human game utterly useless. It's none of my business!

-First of all, I'm asking you and not Lillia-senpai. Second I just played with him this tongue twister

-Tongue twister? Is this the method of my torture?

-Sebek is just a game for distraction, try again! And ah–! Lillia, do you want to try again?-Lillia appeared in midair scaring Sebek, Yuu was already waiting for him to appear, the older one made it very clear that he didn't want to give up. Lilia tries a few times and gives up a little later.

-She sell sheas…!Se shells sheas…!- they burst out laughing as Lilia whispered a “just like old times!”

The green haired fae looked confused and his laughter died when he realized this: They are making fun of him! YES! They are playing tricks so they cant solve and GOD THEY JUST TRICKED MASTER LILLIA? AND IT WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME? What audacity of this human without magic, playing dirty with a guardian as exceptional as Lillia Vanrougue!

-Why don't you try this tongue twister with Malleus? I bet he'll like it! - the magenta haired one suggested happily however Sebek increased his alertness even more.

HE'S GOING TO FOOL THE YOUNG MASTER IN A SILLY JOKE! AND LILLIA SAMA WANTS HIM TO PARTICIPATE TOO? WHAT KIND OF MENTAL CONTROL TRAP IS THE HUMAN SETTING??” - Sebek was present in the class, the new information only served to raise more suspicions about the frien--human. Human being. Silly human.

-Professor Wamuro, where do these dangerous humans come from?- A pufferfish merman asked hesitantly, his hand shaking as he stood up. There were other humans in the school and they were nothing like these monsters, so it only makes sense that they are ancient beings or a place very far from there right? Right??

-Ohh they come from.. ah I remembered. From a deadly blue planet of unknown location. The ancients called “Earth” something like… oh exactly like that! - scratching his long beard Raoni walked across the room spotting an area with posters.

Professor Raoni saw a poster with a space system with a large star in the middle called Sun and 8 planets orbiting around it, the third of them being a blue rocky sphere, with well-delimited lands and white clouds. He just didn't imagine that some magicless prefect from another world made the drawing in astronomy class tracing an arrow pointing to the planet. “HOME EARTH” was written, his friends suggested that he write that detail so that the students would know a little more about his homeland. The component names had a heart and a sword, plus a “Grim” with a paw. 

The students absorbed the information given by the new teacher, and with a pale face they exchanged glances with each other listening to the whispers that Wamuro emitted, thinking aloud about the next subjects for the classes taking turns between some rather strange theories. The train of thought was cut short just before the bell rang with a soft knock on the door and a voice that said:

-Excuse me Professor Raoni Wamuro, I'm Yuu. The director asked me to give you these papers.- Yuu said as they opened the door.

The bell rang and while the prefect waited for a bunch of teenagers running wild for their precious break, they found a room hesitant to get up from their chair avoiding the gaze and a confused teacher….

[totalize]

TODAYS COLLECTIVE 3 CARD SPREAD

#33 The Raccoon and Sycamore - curiosity

#48 The Dragonfly and Pansy - balance

#29 The Squirrel and Chestnut - preparation

The order in which I pulled these cards went curiosity, preparation, and balance. But I put them in this order because it’s how I read the message….

You need to balance both these two elements (curiosity and preparation) to fully align with your manifestations.

Balance allowing yourself to be free and curious while grounded in physical reality. Consciously attend to the life you’re manifesting in the 3D while subconsciously imagining your best life in the 5D.

Affirmation: “May all my actions match my intentions, in the highest and best good for all.”

The Dragonfly is a descendent of prehistoric creatures such as dinosaurs (and dragons if that’s what you believe in) and carries with it tons of spiritual wisdom and knowledge. The dragonfly reminds us that anything’s possible as long as you’re willing to do the work and show up for yourself. Make sure you balance the endless days you spend sitting in bed, starring out your window listening to music with getting up out of bed and physically creating the life you want.

You don’t want to just be daydreaming forever.

You can look at it like a balance of autumn and spring.

In autumn you put away the lessons you’ve learned over the years (some lessons being disguised as trauma) and let them transmute themselves to use to your advantage as tools and gifts in the spring.

It all comes back to Yin and Yang energy ☯️

A balance of light and dark, feminine and masculine energy united as one.

Brighter days are here. Do the work for yourself and believe you will be gifted and rewarded in return.

Blessed be ❤️

Card meanings from the guidebook:

The Raccoon and the Sycamore - overall meaning that curiosity is rewarded. “Calls us to explore a thrilling new interest, idea, or opportunity.”

Upright - “You are well-equipped to explore uncharted territories. Climb high into the tree of your interests, bounding from branch to branch. Now is an auspicious time to discover new truths about yourself and your abilities.”

Reversed - “You may be feeling bored, left out, or like nothing piques your interest. Take time for rest and self care. We cannot feel curious when our most basic needs are unmet.”

The Dragonfly and the Pansy - a symbol of balance. “Nimble and attuned as a dancer, it (the dragonfly) moves effortlessly through the air, shifting direction with ease. Pansies are named for the French word pensée, meaning thought, and were given by the Victorians as tokens of thoughtfulness. Together, the dragonfly and pansy indicate a harmony of thought and action.”

Upright - “Like a dragonfly hovering above water, you are healthy and confident. Your physical skill is matched by your mental and emotional strength.”

Reversed - “You have stumbled into an unhealthy obsession. Recall the way a dragonfly shifts direction with ease and aim for the same nimbleness of thought”.

Be conscious of where you are focusing your energy. You are in control of your own energy.

The Squirrel and the Chestnut - “careful preparation will often yield riches”

Upright - “You have prepared well and can expect to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Your resourcefulness and foresight will be rewarded.”

Reversed - “Prepare for the winter ahead. While fun and games are necessary parts of life, don’t become so distracted that you forget to provide for yourself.”

Remember you have to fill your own cup first before you can fill others! Prepare to be the person you want to be.

This collective reading was from the 52 card oracle deck & guidebook “Woodland Wardens” by Jessica Roux.

Please ONLY take the messages that resonate with your gut and intuition. Always trust yourself first.

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