#but under the influence of the Wither its just better not to try and fight it

[poisonouspastels]

i read through Everything about the au thus far and i gottsa ask.... what is UP with the WITHER CULT!!!!!!!

HI sorry I just woke up. Cracks knuckles. SO the Wither Cult is actually something that's been around throughout generations technically with different intents and different methods, but when I refer to it I do typically mean the most recent iteration with White Eyes, which is a very.. interesting situation. When White Eyes originally got out of the destroyed remains of the kingdom, there were other survivors, and her stoic attitude and mangled appearance made her somewhat of a legend within the small lasting communities. Seeing someone that should have been dead walking (sometimes with a similarly undead horse) among the living with glowing white eyes lead to a lot of theories, one of the most common being that she was a prophet of some sort, touched by the god of death and living to tell the tale. (Also in part with her modern nickname) Due to this, a lot of people ended up following in her footsteps to create a safe haven within the dark oak woods just before the mountains. This is never something she asked of them, she never asked anything, but still somehow everything would fall into place. People will do anything to cling on to a semblance of hope. Survivors and their descendants have come from all over the larger surrounding areas over the years to seek shelter, expanding the hideaway into the woodland mansion with time as we know it today throughout the years. It's entirely self-sufficient, and everyone there is offered equal footing in terms of having free bedding, never having to worry about a meal, and of course the shelter itself. There are few conditions otherwise, but overall your best bet is just not to stray from the name of the beast.

[astralfrontier]

Forget the rain-soaked metropolis with Japanese kanji and stories-tall open-air holograms. Forget the neon and the chrome, and imagine a cyberpunk molded by the 2020s.

The new cyberpunk is strongly influenced by biology and biotechnology, just as the 1980s cyberpunk took its cues from electronics. It’s a world sculpted by the greed and laziness and helplessness of the powerful. But it is still punk - there is resistance, and defiance, and ways that the lower classes co-opt the systems the powerful have put in place. The symbol of this world is a lone dandelion, growing through the crack in a concrete sidewalk.

The archetypical city of our future looks like a gleaming oasis in a desert. The sun beats down mercilessly. The ozone layer has been damaged by pollutants. The build-up of greenhouse gases has raised the temperature. So when people walk the streets, they have two choices. Stay out in the open, and let their skin wither and peel over time. Or try to get under the shade of a nearby building’s sunscreens - until the muscular man in sunglasses and a uniform prods you with his tonfa, because you aren’t dressed well enough.

In some parts of the city, the desperate have taken to burning piles of garbage. The smoke blots out the sun for awhile, but leaves the people there in coughing fits. Still, if it’s a choice between skin cancer and lung cancer, maybe a small chance of both is better than a large chance of one?

Everyone has a Device. It might be a mobile phone, or a wrist-worn gadget, or fancy glasses. It doesn’t matter at this point. It’s easy to build them into any of these shapes, or all of them, or something else nobody has imagined yet. But everyone has a Device. Can people track your location with the Device? Of course! They always could. That’s why it’s bad comedy to see someone on the street, ranting into their Device’s camera about how “They” are going to keep tabs on you with implanted microchips.

You don’t own digital things, like music or movies. You subscribe to them, or watch ads to subsidize them. But there’s a new trick the corporations have learned: if you’re on the wi-fi at a store, where impulse buys are a possibility, they’ll give you access to the stuff at no cost. This keeps people milling around at the brick-and-mortar establishments that can afford to stay open as such, and keeps a percentage of them putting down money after being enticed with the digital freebies.

Another free thing is injections. You get regular vaccines if you’re working for an employer who pays for them. There’s a selection of open-source vaccines, but their distributors are routinely attacked by patent police. And of course there’s the DIY market, the outgrowth of the 20th and early 21st century’s obsession with medical woo. Take this supplement. Eat this super-food. Guaranteed results.

Some people take the chance anyway, because viral evolution is happening at an accelerated pace. The mass of humanity has turned cities into viral laboratories where the latest pathogens evolve and adapt, developing themselves at breakneck pace.

Misinformation is a way of life. Everyone has become numb to someone or something on a screen telling them lies. Elvis Presley is hawking erectile dysfunction pills, while someone released yet another Marilyn Monroe-Barack Obama sex tape. You can download an app that will make the current President say or do anything you want. It doesn’t matter that none of it is real, in a sense. It’s entertaining.

Nobody’s sure who to vote for, or who won the vote, or what voting is. The corporations mobilize their employees to vote for Their Guy, and that’s about it.

So how do people fight back?

The thing is, life is what it is. Seeds will grow whether or not you have a patent for them from Monsanto. Germs will reproduce whether or not you’ve activated their license key. Algae can be made to nourish no matter what the government says. Sure, they can send the cops to burn down your grow up. But like a weed, others will spring up.

Designer microbes are accessible enough that DIY maker labs can fabricate simple plastic-eating bacteria. Mushrooms can grow without the need for sunlight. And simple pathogens can be created and released into a population only after the vaccine has been distributed to people you like. The corporate town model - where employees work at corp-owned buildings, shop at corp stores, eat corp food, sleep in corp dormitories, live corporate lives - means few vectors for an infection to escape their walled garden.

Cybernetics exist. They don’t dehumanize the user - quite the reverse, actually. They can grant a measure of human dignity to people who want the capabilities they can provide. Like drugs, like video, like sex, like anything, cybernetics can exist for recreational or practical uses. They can be used properly, or abused.

Still, everyone is just a little bit sick, all the time. Their bodies, honed by millennia of evolution, know what’s healthy and what’s not. Right now, nothing is healthy. But a defiant attitude won’t overcome the dominance of the powerful on its own. Those who wish to resist the current world order must take a lesson from life itself: any individual cell is expendable. The secret is to probe at the cracks, consume what resources you find, and never, ever stop growing.

[opalesense]

How would the genshin Bois, zhongli, childe, diluc and kaeya react to a fem traveller stuck in a wall after a harsh battle, they'll help her get out right?...right?

a sight to behold

zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya & f!reader (NSFW-ish)

1.9k words • ~13 min. read

warnings: just a lot of teasing & dirty thoughts

notes: i was practically rubbing my hands together with evil intentions when i saw this request but i’ll spare the graphic details for another time, otherwise this will be extremely long!! also i wrote them separately here BUT i wouldn’t be opposed if someone requested them to be grouped together instead... anyway, i hope you enjoy this!! >:)

THE WIDELY FEARED PRIMO GEOVISHAP was certainly a sight to behold from above. You quickly understood why so many people often avoided interacting with this beast – it was intimidating even while it slept soundly, its loud snores echoing throughout the cavern despite being so far down. As you stood on the platform above its sleeping form, you studied its details, noticing the element it possessed and strategizing your combat plan quickly, thankful that you could manipulate an element that targetted its weakness. Once you made up your mind, you let out a huff as you took a leap of faith down, letting your glider save you at the last second before you could actually make contact with the ground.

 Your companion followed behind swiftly, the two of you moving gently around the walls of the cavern, careful not to wake the beast from its slumber. In a low whisper, you began to describe your strategy to your partner, but alas, the beast suddenly awoke and interrupted your planning with a ear splitting roar.

 Without a second thought, the two of you dashed to the creature, loosely following the details of the plan you had based on what you were able to say before you got interrupted. The battle was fine at first, but you soon realized how out of sync the two of you became as the fight progressed. Your elemental reactions were getting poorly timed, and it was difficult to keep an eye on each other’s movements with the beast constantly thrashing about and blocking communication.

 In normal circumstances, the two of you excelled in combat together without needing any other support. Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe you bit off more than you could chew this time, but you noticed you were getting knocked around easier than usual. Things were obviously not going your way and you had to think of a solution fast.

 But before you knew it, your distraction with your own thoughts got the best of you. One single swipe of the geovishap’s tail sent you flying across the cavern towards the opposite wall then tumbling on the ragged, rocky edges of floor, certainly leaving cuts and bruises for later. To make matters worse, one more aggressive roar from the beast shook the walls of cavern enough to send chunks of rock tumbling down towards your injured body. Unable to form coherent thoughts, you knew you didn’t have the strength to escape the avalanche. Instead, all you could do was lay there, helpless and bracing for impact, praying to the Archons that you can be saved.

zhongli

 Zhongli made quick work of the beast, using his shield to deliver an extremely effective counter attack and finishing it once and for all. The creature wailed in pain in its dying moments before disintegrating into dust. He expected to see your face on the other side but alas, you were nowhere to be seen.

 “[Y/N]?” his face tensed as he tried to think of where you could have disappeared to. As his eyes darted around the cavern, he immediately noticed a tiny speck of color amongst the rocks on the wall that resembled your clothing. He quickly sprinted towards you, lifting some of the boulders off of you effortlessly using his geo manipulation.

 He began to subconsciously slow down once he saw the way you were displayed in front of him. Your legs were propped up slightly from the rocks underneath you that caved in from the impact. The way your hips curved up caused your skirt to fold back onto you, leaving you completely exposed under his gaze.

 Ungodly thoughts began to race across Zhongli’s mind. He couldn’t help but slowly undress you in his mind, thinking about all the things he could do to you in this moment of vulnerability.

You poor thing... If only we were not in such a potential dire circumstance of life or death, what would stop me from keeping these rocks on top of you, grabbing those hips, and pressing myself against you? It would be the perfect opportunity to keep you still while I have my way with you... Perhaps I should check to see if you’re okay first, and maybe I can trap you with these rocks myself instead. Certainly I could even lift you in a better position for a better fit...

“Stay with me, [Y/N],” Zhongli snapped out of his fantasy and continued to lift the boulders off of you, wondering if he should really go through with his urges. “You will be okay...”

childe

 Childe had noticed you fly across the cavern in the corner of his eye, and watching you land on the floor at such a fierce impact only fueled him to keep fighting. In a fit of a rage and frustration, he summoned his dual blades and quickly turned the tides of the battle towards his favor. He didn’t even need to watch the beast die to know it was dead within seconds, and after his final blow he quickly dashed towards where you landed only to find out you had been crushed by more rocks.

 He let out another yell of frustration, grabbing the boulders one by one and pushing them off of you. “[Y/N]? Can you hear me?”

 “I’m fine, just get these off of me!” you managed to call out from underneath the pile. Relieved that you were alive and well, he managed to push most of the boulders off but hesitated once he got a good look at the way you were laid out in front of him.

 With your legs dangling off the edge of the pile, your ass was comedically exposed towards him, the rest of your upper half still trapped within the remains of the avalanche. Funnily enough, the hem of your skirt had even got trapped above your hips that you were completely exposed, causing Childe to grin evilly.

 “Well, well, well,” he slowly walked over to you and placed a gloved hand on your bare cheek, still slightly out of breath from the heavy lifting. He gave a gentle squeeze, eliciting a gasp from you. “Is this my reward for helping you? If so, I’ll gladly take it now...”

 “Did you forget that I’m stuck? What if I’m badly injured?!”

 “In that case, I’m sure I can make all the pain go away and replace it with pleasure instead,” he gave one final squeeze and chuckled before walking away to grab another boulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding... But once you’re out, don’t expect all this help to come for free, you know.”

diluc

 Diluc watched you tumble across the floor with panicked eyes, immediately worrying about your safety but not letting that distract him from the task at hand. In the heat of the moment under the influence of rage and anxiety, he summoned his pyro manipulation to set his claymore ablaze and deliver multiple final blows to the creature, smashing its figure into bits. The beast cried in its final moments and when he was sure it was dead, he dropped his sword as he sprinted towards you.

 Pure panic settled in once he saw you had been crushed underneath the pile of rocks. He pushed himself to run faster, feeling tears form in the corners of his eyes but ignoring it. He didn’t want to lose you – not this easily.

 “[Y/N]!” he called out once he reached the site, “Can you hear me?”

 “I’m here, Diluc. I’m fine,” you reassured him. He deeply sighed in relief as he began to push the boulders off of you. Thank Barbatos you were alive and well! He shook the thought of you being fatally injured away from the forefront of his mind to focus on getting you out of this mess, using his strength to his advantage. But after a few rocks were pushed off of you, his eyes widened at the sight of you, a sight he will never forget.

 While your legs and upper body were still trapped underneath the pile, the first thing Diluc revealed was your ass, exposed by your skirt that was coincidentally trapped above your hips. Your thighs were pinned together, rubbing gently as you squirmed in the rubbish, trying to wiggle your way out. Or at least, he wanted to believe you were wiggling for the sole purpose of getting out, and not to tease him.

 With a nervous gulp, he averted his eyes away from you and resumed his work on the boulders. His mind couldn’t help but drift away into sinful corners, though. He envisioned the way he could firmly grab your thighs, pull down your underwear and...

 “Don’t scare me like that again,” he took a more lighthearted tone to cover up his urges, “I thought you were surely dead.”

kaeya

 After briefly witnessing you get thrown across the cavern, Kaeya managed to finally stab the beast in such a precise weakness point, making it wail in pain until it slowly withered away in its dying moments. He took no time at all to rush over to you, sprinting faster once he saw that you had been crushed by an avalanche.

 “[Y/N], talk to me,” he subtly asked for reassurance that you were still alive as he began to analyze the situation and pinpoint exactly where you were in all this rubbish.

 “I’m okay,” you weakly muttered with a grin, glad that he had come to your rescue, “Just a little bruised, that’s all.”

 Following the trail of your voice, he put his mind to work. He started to strategically push certain rocks so that others would naturally fall off of you without him needing to lift too much. After awhile, he began to spot one of your arms, then your other arm, and with each rock tumbling down he soon revealed the full picture.

 Or at least, a fraction of the full picture.

 He was relieved to see that you had wrapped your arms around your head for protection before the crash, avoiding what would have been an extremely dangerous injury. With your entire body from the chest down still trapped, you felt the need to stretch out your arms in the newly freed space and take a deep breath, glad to finally have some fresh air. “Good morning,” you joked on your bed of rocks.

 Even though he certainly felt some relief, he couldn’t fight the urge to tease you as he cooed over the sight of you so helpless underneath him. With an evil smirk, he pulled out one of the rocks that was supporting your neck, leaving your head hanging off the edge and eliciting a gasp from you. Before you could protest, he propped himself up against the wall with one arm, his body hovering over you and his crotch just inches away from your face.

 “Look at that pretty mouth of yours... You tempt me even in the most dire situations, sweetheart,” he let his free hand run slender fingers across your scalp, slowly massaging you. “Now that I think about it, I do deserve a prize for saving you, don’t I?”

 “Quit running your mouth and just help me get out of here,” you scolded him jokingly. He laughed and shook his head dismissively as he walked away to get back to work, fighting that strong urge to use your throat in such a vulnerable state.

 “If you say so, sweetheart. Maybe some other time.”

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Tommy’s (and Tubbo’s) Character /rp /dSMP

This is a bit of a rant so like be warned. I have nothing against any CCs mentioned in this, this is all roleplay, lighthearted, and just a bit of fun analysis. Mostly this is a ramble about how I see certain people analysing Tommy’s character on tumblr and twt, and why I think they’re wrong. This isn’t directed at anyone specific, just a trend I’ve been seeing that kinda irks me. I don’t dislike the fandom, just a few ‘takes’ have been really weird for me.

TW for everything below: analysing the effects of trauma, abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, and lack of therapy.

I’m not really liking how victim-blamey everyone is getting currently in the dSMP, both in fandom and canon. In canon with certain characters but especially in fan analysis posts and especially about Tommy and Tubbo. People legitimately celebrating that Tommy might start ‘apologising’ for his actions more and 'growing as a person' somehow don’t realise that hes been made this way through a tonne of negative reinforcement. abuse, and gaslighting. And people blaming Tubbo for actions he had no choice in, rather than the actions he did choose.

Currently, as I see it, Tommy is so scared that anyone would find a reason to be pissed off at him that his fighting spirit has been completely crushed. He was exiled and abused when he should have been helped and given an understanding figure to guide him and teach him how to deal with things non-violently. In everyone’s eyes, the problem was that Tommy was creating violence with no real reason, acting recklessly and commiting crimes. Tubbo, having made him a part of his cabinet, knew that this would only harm the country. So instead of talking to him reasonably, he got angry, put him on trial, and punished him with the logbook (humiliating him by making him report back to Fundy, which he obviously hated). Tommy’s actions were, of course, bad, but did he deserve everyone ganging up on him? No. Especially when Tubbo was supposed to be in his corner, helping him out like he always said he would (”It’s me and you vs Dream” etc). This is the first betrayal of trust from Tommy’s POV. He doesn’t understand what he did wrong to its full extent, and no one can explain it to him. 

However, Tubbo was under a lot of pressure from Dream and George, and he’s a literal child President, so his ‘safety over friendship’ actions are understandable. I don’t believe Tubbo is solely to blame for anything he’s done in season 2, but it can’t all be excused. If you are to blame Tommy for his recklessness, you have to blame Tubbo, at least partially, for his disregard for Tommy’s feelings and mental state. There were other ways to go about the entire thing, including the trial, which was just horrible to watch, and agreeing to give Dream the disc, something Tommy gave him in pure confidence that it would be safe with Tubbo. Yikes moment.

At that time, Tubbo knew a lot of things about Tommy. In fact, he probably knew the most about Tommy out of anyone on the server. He knew the discs were incredibly important and a comfort item for Tommy. He knew Tommy had trauma from being exiled in the past. He knew Tommy was abused, or at least manipulated by Wilbur, in addition to growing up in war. Wilbur once told Tommy to stop being reckless, and Tommy listened, changing his attitude because he looked up to Wilbur so much. Then Wilbur said ‘let’s be the bad guys’ and stopped trying to mentor Tommy. There’s a conflict here, because Tommy was told by Wilbur that he wasn’t good enough to be President (links to the idea of ‘not being strong enough’) but he knows that Wilbur was a bad person. But Tommy is never given the chance to reconsile his feelings surrounding Wilbur, both because of Ghostbur and because of the conflict he starts with George. So he is harbouring a mixture of emotions about his mentor and brother, not understanding how to untangle the ‘real Tommy’ from the manipulated boy he became. 

What was going through his head when he stole from George and griefed him? Perhaps the thought that he needed to show he was still the same old Tommy. Maybe the need to ‘prove himself’ as a strong person? It could have just been an outlet for his trauma. He’s grown up in a world where everyone is either a friend or an enemy. George isn’t a friend. How was he supposed to know that hurting him was bad?

Tubbo was pressured into the actions he took against Tommy, but he was pressured far too easily. There is no moment where Tubbo turns to Tommy and makes sure he’s okay, he views him as ‘selfish’ and overdramatic, and sees his actions that way. This makes sense from Tubbo’s POV, he’s struggling to be President in ways that Wilbur *knew* he would, but in Tommy’s eyes this is the worst betrayal he’s ever known. The moment Tubbo (rightfully, but poorly executed) defies Tommy’s plan to hire Technoblade (ahem, seeing Techno as a weapon again) and exiles Tommy is the moment their friendship shatters. They’re two people who don’t understand each other anymore. Two people who are technically in the right, but only hurt each other. 

What Tommy needed was a therapist, instead he had Dream, who put out the fire of rebellion that made him so strong, and Techno, who was trying to help but doing it in the wrong way. 

People see tommy's change post-exile as a good thing because he's not as rebellious anymore and he’s thinking things through a lot before he does them, but they will soon realise that his rebellion was one of his best traits and the fact that no one saw it as anything but a problem really shows. He now second-guesses himself so much and is so scared of being wrong that everything seems too difficult and too dangerous. Every trait can have a positive and negative side. Tommy's defiant nature would have made him the perfect negotiator with a little practise. In fact, he had plenty of good ideas before he was exiled (using spirit against Dream, though it didnt work in the end, for example). The negative side of this was recklessness and the desire to cause problems on purpose, but what he needed was a friend (looking at you Tubbo) who understood that hes been through several wars, was manipulated by Wilbur, and hasnt known a time of peace where everyone who wasnt on his side was out to kill him. Now that ‘fight’ is gone he's just become easier to manipulate.

He may be getting better (see: telling Dream to go fuck himself) but there hasn't been any long-term growth because he was never told what kind of rebellion was good and what was bad. He was just told it was all bad. By Dream (and by Tubbo). Who he doesn't trust. So he's just going to revert back to his old ways because no one told him what was bad in a way that didn't make him feel like everyone was against him. Dream is the enemy (though Tommy’s feelings towards him are complicated, they make his brain go all ‘flippy floppy’) and Dream told him that rebellion was bad, so rebellion must be good always, right? 

And then there's Techno. Techno did nothing wrong except for when he did. Techno is 100% right except for when he isn’t. He doesn't understand Tommy because Tommy was never fully open about what Dream had done and how it affected him. That's not Tommys fault though, because who the fuck openly talks about their trauma? So neither of them are to blame for pretty much anything up until the confrontation at the community house.��

However, Techno's methods and ideology were not what Tommy needed. He was thrown from one extreme to another over and over again, from complete subservience to total rebellion. Neither of these inforce good attitudes in Tommy. One, as stated before, makes it so that he will regain his negative traits again. The other reinforces those violent traits as good, just like Wilbur did. The only difference is that Techno had good intentions, he wasnt trying to use Tommy, which is why he feels so used when Tommy 'betrays' him (Techno doesnt realise that he himself betrayed Tommy by teaming with Dream, he sees it more as a transaction than a personal thing). Techno feels so hurt by Tommy ‘viewing him as a weapon’ that he goes on with his no-mercy attack, completely dropping Tommy at his lowest point. 

Tommy says he doesn't want to be like everyone he's hated. In fact, he say's he is 'worse' than all the villains. This is very obviously untrue, though he was clearly going down a dangerous path with Techno's influence (see: bullying Fundy, spawning wither, kidnapping Connor, and saying that the discs are more important than Tubbo, more on that later). He's not a villain but who exactly has said he's not a villain. Dream? Techno? Neither of them can be trusted in his eyes. They say he's a good guy, Wilbur wanted to be the bad guy, who's right? He doesn't know. He has a crisis of morality. 

And? Some people want to point at that and say 'aha! Character development! He's finally realising his actions have a negative affect on others!' OH GOD NO??? He's a *child* who thinks that he is worse than his abuser. Does that sound like positive character growth to you? 

Lastly, the discs. We know theyre a comfort item blahblahblah. He hates himself for valuing them more than he values Tubbo. He's literally innocent in this. He’s been horribly manipulated by Dream to believe that the discs are worth anything. Theyre really not worth anything if they are being used as tools rather than, yknow, discs. My poor boy. He doesnt trust people, so what can he trust? The discs. But then he says it out loud and realises he misses Tubbo and he wants to be with his best friend again and and and WAHHHH. This also isnt really character growth its just fucking sad leave me alone. 

Anyways what the fuck guys. @ Niki and Jack what the fuck. Yeah we get it it’s miscommunication but wtf. Kinda worried that the actual lore will make Niki and Jack’s hatred of Tommy justified in some way and take on a big victim-blamey vibe, but I’m hoping that everyone is smart enough to not do that. I cannot praise Tommy enough for how he’s portrayed his character. I’m currently hoping that he himself understands the true complexity of it all. I’m sure he does.

Mostly though im actually pissed off at all the people praising tommy's character for 'maturing' when hes literally just got trauma. Nice one, tumblr and twt users. Thanks. Great job. He hasnt 'learnt his lesson', he’s traumatised. What the fuck.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, leave your responses in the reblogs and comments.

[honalele]

For Blood

The dull sound of rain and thunder kept Techno awake. He stared up at the cave’s ceiling from his cot and counted the amount of times the water droplets fell from its cracks. He held a pocket knife in his right hand and rolled it between his fingers in heavy contemplation, trying to keep the voices in his head calm and quiet. However he couldn’t help but catch the whispers of a few distinct voices that had been with him for as long as he’d known blood.

Danger. Escape. Run.

He knew they were speaking about the raid on Saint Charity’s tomorrow. It had been pushed back a couple times this week, but Captain Peirce said that tomorrow morning was the official day. It would be simple. Sneak into town, attack the withers, save the village. They’d done it over a thousand times before, but something about the night was causing the voices in Techno’s head to go berserk.

He twisted the pocket knife and gave it a toss, but before he could catch it himself a hand from out the shadows intercepted it. Techno looked to his right to see his friend’s smile glowing in the shadows of the den.

“Can’t sleep?” Phil asked with a knowing smile. Techno paused, then threw his legs over the side of the cot and gave Phil some room to sit down next to him. Phil pulled his wings in and took the seat. “What’s wrong?” He sighed. Techno wasn’t too sure how to voice his concerns. There was no reason for him to be worried about tomorrow. Their company had delt with many wither hoards before. Each soldier had memorized their fighting patterns and the stats on villager casualties had been going down for weeks. Still, he couldn’t brush off the feeling that something was wrong.

Blood for the Blood god.

A child’s voice rose above the rest. The voice of a small boy that had been stuck with Techno for as long as he could remember. He was becoming louder and more thirsty for fresh blood. Human blood. With Phil’s help, Techno managed to keep the voices quieter than they’d been in years, but during the past few weeks, they’d been growing noisy and difficult to ignore.

“It’s the rain. It’s keeping me up.” He said. Phil let out a snort.

“Afraid of a little thunderstorm are we?” He shouldered Techno playfully. Techno grinned in response and turned his gaze to the cave floor. In all honesty, Phil should’ve been more worried about the rain than Techno considering he couldn’t fly in it. Then again, the guy was like a one man army on his own, so a bit of bad weather wasn’t going to stop him from doing what needed to be done.

Techno also knew that Phil wasn’t one to prod. From the day they first met at the Eastern front, they had a connection. Phil actually saved Techno from being discharged where he would have been sent back home and hung for his crimes. Luckily, the “Angel of Death” held a decent amount of authority when it came to influencing the general’s decisions. Techno would always remember the first thing Phil ever said to him.

“Never in the thousands of years I’ve been alive have I seen a reflection such as yours.”

From that day on, the two became inseparable. They understood each other in ways that few people could. They were both outcasts. Phil belonged to a rare and elusive class known as elytra. A nation that had crumbled centuries ago. The few that survived were either hunted down and killed, or captured and used as weapons in the King’s army. While he was technically immortal, Phil was lucky to have survived for as long as he did. As for Techno, the military was his last resort. He was born cursed.

Blood for the Blood god.

“You know, I gave Will a pocket knife like this one. Before we were separated.” Phil said, interrupting Techno’s thoughts. Techno turned to see Phil looking at the pocket knife with a soft and sentimental expression on his face. “I told him that if I wasn’t going to be there to protect him, he’d have to do it himself.” His voice was low and quiet as he flipped the knife open, looking deeply into its reflective surface.

Phil often spoke highly of his son Wilbur. The guy was leading some sort of revolution in the Dream Kingdom. A project he called “L’Manburg”. Phil would sometimes share the letters they sent to one another with Techno, but recently the messenger crows were coming back empty handed.

“Have you heard from him at all this week?” Techno asked. Phil shook his head.

“Not since he wrote to me about his new project, Pogtopia. He sounded so optimistic, but it’s been weeks since I last heard from him. I’m beginning to worry…” Phil’s voice trailed off and his brows furrowed with worry. He was silent for a few moments before closing the knife and handing it back to Techno. “I’m sure he’s just busy leading his countries.” Phil was usually hard to read, but he had a huge blind spot when it came to his son. Techno took it upon himself to make sure that no one ever took advantage of that blind spot.

Techno fiddled with the knife for a bit. He glanced at Phil who reached up and tucked a piece of his blonde hair behind his ear revealing a small brown feather that was tied into a braid. Techno lowered his gaze and thought about his next words carefully.

“You’ve already told me the pocket knife story and it doesn’t end with your last words to Will. It ends with that feather in your hair.” Phil shot Techno a look of warning. Techno knew it was a sensitive topic, but he persisted. “You told him to protect himself, and that’s what he did. Those wings that he sent you all those years ago, they were proof of your son’s strength. Wilbur is capable of handling anything the world throws at him. I believe he’ll write again soon, and the crows will sing when he does.” Phil’s gaze melted into sentiment, and even though Techno could see the uncertainty in his eyes, Phil nodded in agreement.

The two fell into silence for a while longer before Phil patted Techno’s shoulder and suggested that they both get some sleep before the raid. Techno nodded and watched as Phil walked back to his cot. Techno looked up at the ceiling of the cave once again. It was still raining and thundering outside. He reckoned it was only a few hours before the raid. A voice from the back of his mind rose just above the waterfall of water droplets outside,

No mercy.

Techno silently got up from the cot. He turned around and knelt so that his elbows were rested on the bed. He pulled a medallion out from under his shirt. It was engraved with the symbols of the gods. One side was etched with a pyre, the symbol for life. The other, a skull, the symbol for death. It was his only token from home. Techno rubbed the medallion between his fingers before letting it hang from his neck and lifting his hands up towards the sky to pray for sleep. Phil wasn’t the religious type, but Techno strongly believed in the works of ancient gods. They came through for him more often than not, and for a man living his life on the run, he needed as much help as he could get.

As Techno went over the prayer in his mind, the voices started to fade into a distant echo along with the flooding rains. His senses grew intimate with the near surroundings, allowing his mind to settle in the comfortable darkness of the cave. After the prayer was finished he stuffed the medallion back under his shirt and quietly climbed into bed. He pulled himself under the covers and focused on the warmth and security that the old sheets brought him. He closed his eyes and was finally able to drift into a deep dreamless sleep.

…

“… bastards we have… get up mongrels.” The noise of the Captain’s voice fell in and out of Techno’s mind as he slowly woke up. Then, his eyes snapped open at a clash of thunder and sound of rushing rain. It was still incredibly dark and he could see from the entrance of the cave that the moon was far from setting.

Techno forced himself to sit upright. He spotted the Captain three cots down ripping the blankets off some poor sap’s bed.

“Children, the lot of you. Up.” His voice was like nails on a chalk board, giving Techno a head ache. He was almost worse than the voices that already occupied Techno’s mind.

Techno glanced in the direction of Phil’s cot. Phil was putting his boots on and also watching the Captain’s display of morning furry. Phil turned to Techno and smiled. They shared a moment of silent amusement from across the room before continuing to prepare for the raid.

“Those skeletons aren’t going to slaughter themselves. You’d all better be at your posts within the hour.” The Captain fixed the cuff of his jacket before turning to leave. Techno noticed how the man side-eyed Phil, but it was only for a split second before he left the cave. Techno wondered what interest the Captain had in one of his oldest and most loyal soldiers. However, he decided that it must’ve just been his imagination and put the odd gesture out of his mind as he slid on his heavy-weighted chest plate.

The group left the cave in cautious pairs. No one wanted to give away the location of the entire fleet, so going in pairs was the stealthiest and most strategic move.

“Ya ready?” Phil asked in a much too cheerful tone. Techno finished tying his sword’s sheath to his belt and nodded. The two of them headed out of the cave and into the waterlogged fields of the Eastern front. The dark morning was made even darker with rainclouds covering almost every inch of a still starred sky. The mud was heavy and wet under his boots. Techno felt the sinking squish with every step. Perhaps instead of sleep, he should have prayed for better weather.

It wasn’t too long into their journey that the village of Saint Charity’s started coming into view. Though the heavy rain made it difficult to see, Techno sensed an eerie silence around the village, as if a witch had come and enchanted it with a mystical sleeping spell. He would have dismissed it for the lingering’s of a fearful evacuation, but something felt out of the ordinary about the place.

“Be careful now.” Phil spoke just loud enough for Techno to hear him over the downpour. “The wither skeletons could be anywhere.” Techno nodded and fell in step with Phil as they closed in on the first building at the edge of Saint Charity’s.

It was a shabby little stable that was barely even attached to the main road. There was only one horse tied up to a post that stood underneath a depressingly drooped awning. It looked like it was asleep, so Techno and Phil made sure not to disturb it as they snuck past and onto the main road into town.

The deeper they ventured into the village, the more houses there were, each bigger than the last. They’d eventually make it to the heart of Saint Charity’s where they spotted a large water fountain dressed in alters of soul sand. Techno and Phil shared a worried glance. They’d come across villages in the past that had taken on an almost cult-like belief in the so called “godliness” of withers. Some would even go as far as using alters to summon “the supreme”. Unlike the state, those people didn’t see these creatures as dangerous weapons. Instead they viewed the wither species as something celestial, given to earth by the gods.

Phil and Techno kept moving through the creepy abandoned streets of Saint Charity’s. There were no signs of life, nothing human, nor wither. The only sounds they heard besides the cascade of rain was the occasional slam of a pair of shutters from somewhere off in the distance.

“This is getting a bit creepy.” Phil commented. Techno remained silent and tried his best to take in his water-soaked surroundings.  

Suddenly Techno caught a whiff of something stale, almost metallic. He shifted his gaze towards the ground which was a mixture of cobblestone and mud, but he noticed that there were quite a few dark puddles that speckled the area. Techno bent down and dipped his fingers into one. It was blood. Human blood.

Blood for the Blood god!

The voices in his head started to scream. He could hear Phil asking him what was wrong, but his friend was quickly becoming muffled and distant.

Human sacrifice! No mercy! Let us have blood!

The voices were cheering as loud as a stadium. Techno pulled his hands up to his ears and begged them to stop. He could already feel the blood rushing and pumping through his veins as the memories of those children in the orphanage came rushing back.

You can never go back! Blood god needs blood!

They shouted in chorus, as loud as a bell bouncing around the inside of his mind. They infected his thoughts and bit his brain like snakes and spiders. Their venom seeped into his mind causing him to go blind and deaf to all of his surroundings. Everything was red and hot. Techno himself was rage filled. He hadn’t felt motivation like this in years.

Blood for the Blood god! Blood for the Blood god! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Suddenly his back was slammed against a wall and his throat was being crushed. Techno’s vision faded from blood red to a grey reality. Phil was holding him against a wall. His sword was unsheathed and so was Techno’s. They were both breathing heavily and Phil’s right cheek was bleeding from a fresh cut. Techno dropped his sword and clung to the hand that was clenching his neck.

“Phil-” was the only word he could manage. Phil’s furious gaze was unwavering.

“You said it was under control.” He said through gritted teeth. Techno looked down at the sword and then back at Phil. He did have it under control. He’d been around human blood before and was able to keep the voices down. Why now? Why was it happening again now?

The fire in Phil’s eyes shrunk to a smaller flame, but his grip on Techno’s neck tightened. He quickly leaned into Techno’s right ear and whispered, don’t attack me again, before letting him go. Techno allowed for his knees to buckle as he gulped down the humid air. He wasn’t sure of what he did, but if it gave away their location or threatened Phil in any way, Phil had every right to be this upset.

As Techno reached for his sword, he heard shouting from a few houses down. Despite the sudden tension between the two of them, Phil gestured for Techno to stay close, and together they made their way towards the screaming.

When they came up to the house, Phil tried to open the door, but it was locked. Without hesitation he broke the door down and headed inside with Techno on his heels. They quickly took in the scene. There were six wither skeletons. Four of them were running rampant while the other two tormented a women who was hiding for her life inside a closet with it’s door nearly ripped to shreds.

Phil pulled a knife from his belt and threw it straight into the back of the first wither’s head, then sprinted forward and took on the second one with his sword. Techno took this as a sign to go after the other four on his own, or at least distract them long enough for Phil’s assistance. He raced to one side of the room and sliced a skull off the first wither he came into contact with. It’s glossy tar-like eye sockets faded into empty black pools as it tumbled to the floor. The other three hissed at him violently. Techno plunged his sword into the exposed ribcage of the one to his right and kicked the one coming to his left. He tried to pull his sword out of the skeleton on his right, but it was jammed. The fourth skeleton was coming straight for him, so he decided to abandon the sword and shove his full bodyweight onto the menacing creature. It bit at his arm, but his armor kept it from puncturing his skin. He threw the beast off him and ran into the kitchen. He picked up one of the chairs and threw it at the wither with so much force that it broke on impact, leaving the skeleton in a hissing mess on the floor.

Techno reach for his short sword with one hand, and pulled out his pocket knife with the other as one of the remaining withers collected itself and came charging towards him. Techno caught it by the throat with his short sword and shoved it up against a nearby pantry. He stabbed its skull with his pocket knife and watched as the life drained out of its eye sockets along with one final hissing breath.

Then, searing pain exploded from his back side, causing him to drop his weapons. Techno turned to see one of the withers blasting its hot ash on him. He tried blocking it from his face with his arm, but the smoldering black dust tore at his armor and burned the tips of his ears. He tried reaching for his weapons, but couldn’t manage under the creature’s broiling breath. Suddenly, an arrow from the living room zipped into the wither’s skull. Its breath of hot ash died with a searing hiss and its towering body of black bones crumbled to the floor. Techno turned to see Phil in the living room standing over two more dead withers, his eyes bright with the excitement of death and war.

There was one final wither left. The one Techno had tried to stabbed in the heart. Phil was about to shoot the pitiful creature as it rolled on the floor in agony, but Techno ran out in front of it and put a hand up to Phil’s loaded bow. He turned to the creature and kicked it over so that its ribcage was exposed. The wither hissed at him and tried to breathe hot ash in defense, but it was far too wounded, and the ash fell out of its jaw like black foamy sand.

Techno reached down and pulled his sword out of its ribcage in one mighty heave. Then, he leaned in closely and spotted from within the thicket of ribs, a black heart, bleeding purple from the small cut he made earlier. Now that he had clear aim, Techno shoved his sword back into the skeleton and properly stabbed its heart. The wither coughed and hissed, and the light died from its skull just like it had the others. Then the creature went still. Techno pulled his sword from its chest and sheathed it as the wither’s body dissolved into a waterfall of dust before his eyes.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white cotton pouch he’d made from an old shirt. He bent over to the pile of black dust and sifted through it until he found the wither’s skull, completely undamaged. He placed it in the pouch and then stood up and tied it to his belt before turning around to see Phil helping the woman and her child out of the closet.

The child must’ve been no more than ten years old. Her light brown hair was mangled and she clung a small teddy bear close to her chest. She spotted Techno, her eyes wide and gawking. She shuffled close to the mother and clung tightly to her leg.

“Do you know what happened here?” Phil asked the mother in a soft tone. He made sure to only speak just above a whisper. “Everyone in this village should have been evacuated and yet here you are, and there are puddles of human blood outside.” He said quietly.

“I don’t know. We were here, and there was screaming outside, and they came in, and I don’t know.” The woman was on the brink of tears.

“Please, you must know something, anything?” Phil’s voice remained gentle and quiet.

“I’m sorry. We hid as soon as we heard them.” The woman pulled her child in close and leaned forward to whisper something to Phil that Techno could just barely make out. “My husband was out there.” The room went silent as quiet tears fell from the woman’s face. Techno watched as Phil looked down at the child and then crouched so that he was at her eyelevel.

“You were very brave. How old are you?” Phil asked, and the girl silently held out eight fingers. “Eight? That’s a big number.” Phil said in feign shock. The girl squeezed her bear and pointed at Phil’s wings. Phil smiled. “Do you like them?” He asked. The girl let go of her mother’s leg for a moment and stepped forward. She slowly reached out and gently stroked Phil’s right wing. Techno noticed Phil trying his best to remain as still as possible, probably an attempt to avoid startling the girl. When she’d finished petting his wings, the girl smiled brightly and then ran back to her mother. Phil tipped his helmet to her and stood up to face the mother again.

Techno was glad that Phil was here to talk to the villagers. He’d seen the way people looked at Phil, as if he were an angel sent from the heavens to save them from the hellish withers. But for Techno, it didn’t matter what he did or who he saved, people always flinched when he walked by. They didn’t even try to hide their fear from him, children especially. As Techno passed the group and headed to the kitchen to gather his weapons, the little girl gawked at him again, not with the look of amazement and wonder she’d given Phil, but also not with a look of blatant fear. She looked at him with intrigue which was a first. It through him off.

Techno looked away and gathered his belongings. The pocket knife was lodged deep in the wither’s skull. He had to pull extra hard to get it out. Black sand flowed out of the wound and onto the floor. Techno looked into the reflective surface of the knife and was met with the harsh stare of his own monstrous red eyes staring back at him. He quickly closed it and shoved it into the palm of his hand.

When he looked back over at the mother and daughter, they were finishing up their conversation with Phil. He got up and walked over to them.

“…that’s why I think you’ll be safe here. Withers refuse to go near dead things, especially if the dead things in question are its own kind.” Techno came into earshot as Phil explained. Phil gave him an apologetic glance. He knew that Techno didn’t enjoy speaking to villagers for longer than they needed to.

“Anyway, we’d better get going.” Phil said. Then he reached for the woman’s shoulder in consolation and urged her to stay safe before leaving. Techno paused before following. He looked to the woman who’s expression was defensive and carrying subtle tones of horror. Then he looked down at the child whose expression hadn’t changed at all. He decided to copy what Phil had done and crouch down so that he was at her eye level.

She had such a young face of pure mind and imaginative thought. Blood so untainted, the gods could feed off it for months.

Blood for the Blood god.

The child’s voice whispered in his brain. Techno snapped open the blade of his pocket knife. He sensed the mother’s muscles tense, but the child remained still. A little girl whose father was out there, dead, or worse. Techno looked into the reflection of the blade one final time before closing it and handing it to the girl.

“For protection.” He said. The girl’s wide eyes stayed on Techno’s face as she carefully set her teddy bear on the floor near her feet. Then, she looked at the gift and cautiously took it into her small hands. Techno prayed that she would never have to use it. He looked up at the mother whose expression had changed from fear to plain confusion. Perhaps she wasn’t sure what to make of the creature before her. Was he a man, or just another exploitable weapon of the King’s army? Techno stood, and left the house without another word.

…

“Took you long enough.” Techno nearly jumped at Phil’s voice. He turned around to see his friend leaned up against the front of the house. Phil was giving him that horrible sympathetic smile.

“She needs it.”

“She’s eight.”

“And Will was how old in that story?” Techno smiled as Phil chuckled.

“Well, at least you’re admitting that you copied me back there.” Phil said with a sarcastic smirk. Techno looked down at the ground and smiled. This is how their friendship was. They kept each other in check when things got ugly, but they’d always have hope for one another. Phil was the only home that Techno had ever known. He was only good thing to come out of enlisting.

Danger. Quick. Leave.

Techno lifted his head and looked off to the center of town. The voices were telling him that something was wrong. They tried telling him last night, but he didn’t listen. He was beginning to believe them.

“We’ve been following the hoard of withers closely. Charting their movements and predicting their attacks. This village should’ve been on the evac list.” He said.

“It is weird. I wouldn’t be surprised if Captain douche fucked it up though. I have about as much trust in that man as I have in god.” Under any other circumstance, Techno would have at least snorted at the joke, but he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that something bad was about to happen. Phil shifted from his relaxed position on the side of the house.

“Come on. It’s bad to stand in one place for too long, especially in a downpour like this.” He said as he walked past Techno and headed into the center of town. Techno hesitated before following. He looked down at the mud soaked cobblestone path.

Run. Danger. Run!

Techno pushed the voices aside. If they were in some sort of danger, he needed to stay with Phil. They were meant to protect each other. He quickly caught up with his friend and together they fell in step. He noticed Phil eyeing Techno’s pouch.

“You shouldn’t have to go through all that trouble, and for what? Brownie points?” Phil said.

“I need the brownie points, you of all people should know that.” Techno replied.

“Yeah, but you still shouldn’t have to.” Techno wasn’t too sure he believed that. He’d done terrible things. He ran away from the consequences. He saved his tail and was now living with all of the guilt. Besides, his past made him reek of desperation. One false step and he could be court-martialed and killed.

You will die.

Techno shivered at the voice. It knew him too well. It knew his deepest secret and darkest fear. The fear that kept him up at night. The fear that motivated him to become a warrior in the first place. The fear of those dark angelic wings willing to carry him to the afterworld. Getting ‘brownie points’ was the least of his worries.

“It doesn’t matter.” Techno brushed off Phil’s statements. “You could help if you wanted you know? You’re a great shot.” He said, changing the subject. Phil snickered.

“Are you saying that I’m such a good shot, I could aim for the heart of a wither, one of the hardest shots in the history of combat, and make it?” Phil said in a greatly exaggerated tone of arrogance.

“No, you’re right. No one’s that good a shot.”  

“Really?” Phil asked. Techno stopped walking and Phil stopped with him. Techno watched as Phil pulled his own white cotton pouch out from the cover of his wing and tossed it to Techno.

“There were seven withers total. This one was hiding in the bathroom. Shot it from behind.” He said pridefully. Techno could hardly believe it. He wanted to thank Phil, but he was at a loss for words. As he stood there in shock, Phil casually nodded towards the creepy water fountain at the center of town.

“Let’s see if we can get a whole set, shall we?” He said with a malicious grin before running off in that direction. Techno doubted that they’d find anything, but if the raid was a bust and the only withers left were stragglers, he didn’t see the harm in taking time to collect one more wither skulls.

He tied the second pouch to his belt and raced after Phil towards the fountain. It seemed like they were the only ones in the area, and despite the blood on the ground, there were no bodies. It wasn’t Techno’s job to play detective, but a part of him wished he could investigate Saint Charity’s further to figure out what had actually happened.

The fountain was even bigger up close. The base of it had to be at least eight feet tall. The sides of it were painted with odd creatures and strange words, each contributing to some sort of violent scene. One of the paintings showed a man stabbing an animal that resembled a cat, then underneath it was a strange word, written in a language Techno couldn’t understand.

⍀⟒⎐⟟⎐⟒.

The next image below was of the same man walking his cat on a leash. Perhaps Techno was reading it backwards.

“This village is so weird.” Phil mumbled uncomfortably at the graphic image of the cat being stabbed to death. Techno nodded in agreement, but kept the fact that he’d stabbed a cat before to himself.

After a bit of sightseeing, the two started searching the ground for abandoned wither skulls. They walked all the way around the fountain, but came up empty-handed. Then, Phil climbed up onto one of the alters.

“What are you doing?” Techno asked.

“Getting a better look.” Phil said as he peeked over the side of the fountain. “Oh my god.” Phil’s face darkened and his eyes grew serious.

“What is it?” Techno called from the ground.

“I, uh, I found another wither skull.” Phil replied, his voice strained. Then, he pulled whatever he’d found floating in the fountain to its edge. “Look out.” He warned as a person fell to the ground. It was a man, dressed in robes like some sort of monk or priest. He was dead. His entire body was limp, and he smelled of piss and wounded flesh. The man wore a cord that went around his waist and was tied into a knot on his side. The wither skull was tied at the end of the cord and dangled just below the religious man’s knee.

Phil climbed down from the alter and placed the priest so that he was facing the sky. The man’s face was bloody and there was something sticking out of his eye.

Blood for the Blood god.

The voices whispered to Techno, but he was far too confused to pay them any mind.

“See this?” Phil said, pointing to the thing sticking out of the dead man’s eye. “That’s a piece of arrow. The rest must’ve snapped off when he fell from the top of the fountain I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” Techno asked. Phil looked up and pointed to the top of the fountain.

“There’s an alter up there.” He said, then turned around and nodded to one of the nearby houses. “Someone could’ve easily shot him from that roof.” Techno looked from the house to the alter on the fountain. It was possible.

“Why would someone shoot him?” He asked, but Phil had no time to respond as an arrow zipped six inches past his face and into the side of the fountain. Phil and Techno turned to see Captain Peirce along with a group of about thirty soldiers, standing before them, armed and on the offense.

“Because harboring weapons of mass destruction is considered treason.” The Captain called. Phil raised his hands up in surrender and slowly stood from his crouched position by the dead man. Techno was about to do the same, but decided to wait for an explanation.

“What is this?” Phil asked.

“King’s orders.” The Captain responded and fired another shot. He was either firing warning shots, or the heavy rain was ruining his aim. Based on the Captain’s scowl, Techno assumed the latter.

“What have I done?”

“I’m only taking orders elytra.” Peirce shouted over the roaring thunder. “But if you really must know, there are certain things you’ve forced your hand on.” The Captain flashed a quick glance at Techno before swiftly returning his focus onto Phil. “Such an unbalance of authority in the camps cannot exist. Besides, you and your kin have made your use, and now you must die.” Techno flinched at the Captain’s final statement.

You must die.

He fought the urge to jump up and rip the Captain apart with his bare hands. That bastard had it coming. He knew that Phil was the most powerful asset of the battalion, and yet he chose to do something as stupid as pull an arrow on him. Then Phil took a step forward.

“Stay where you are.” The Captain warned, but Phil kept moving. Techno watched as he slowly made his way to a nearby alter.

“Don’t I get a trial?” Phil asked.

“I suggest you yield.” The Captain responded in a firm tone and fired another failed shot.

Techno stayed near the body. None of the soldiers seemed to have an eye on him. He watched as Phil casually hopped up on the alter as if he were choosing to sit there with his arms in the air.

“Please Captain, don’t make me beg for my life. Doing so will only incur my wrath upon you.” It was difficult to make out the Captain’s face what with the dark morning sky and dreadful downpour, but Techno swore he saw the man smile.

“What wrath? You’re out numbered, bird.”

Techno finally understood what Phil was doing. He’d been stalling for time. Techno looked down at the wither skull attached to the Priest’s robes. He cautiously reached for it and undid the knots. Somehow, Phil had made him completely invisible to the other soldiers.

With all three wither skulls in hand, Techno slowly started making his way to the back side of the fountain. Once he was out of sight, he took each of the skulls and placed them gently on the soul-sand alter. A horrible hissing noise erupted as he placed the final skull. Techno quickly backed away and watched as a tornado of soul sand and dark ash tore through the air and spun around the wither skulls.

Techno had seen these kinds of withers summoned before, but he’d never done it himself or been so up close. Muffled voices of confusion and concern floated around the town center as the shrieking wither came to life before him. It was big, and much more frightening to look at than the ordinary wither skeletons. Its ribcage was mangled with an overabundance of bones that connected to a singular spine. Its ability to fly made up for its lack of limbs. Two of the wither skulls had been pressed and warped into the creature’s broad shoulders, and the third sat on its neck. Its body emitted a hot purple light from every pore and instead of plain dark pools of tar, each set of eyes glowed the ominous color.

Techno backed up and watched as the massive creature slowly turned around and came upon the small army. It made a horrifying screaming noise and the started blasting vast amounts of hot ash out of each of its three skulls.

“Stand your ground! Don’t-” the Captain was cut off by the wither’s attack. Techno watched as he pulled up his shield and tried to shout orders, but the other soldiers had already descended into panic.

Techno searched the chaos, trying to find Phil, but he failed to concentrate as he watched all of the soldiers, men whom he’d fought alongside for many months, some for years, being burned to death in front of his eyes.

Join. Kill. Blood for the Blood god.

Techno stumbled back as the voices attempted to take over his mind. He needed to find Phil.

Blood!

The voices only came back with a more vicious attack. All had joined in. His head was full of the noise, just like it had been that day back at the orphanage. All those years ago. He’d only been a child, but that was no excuse. Not for him. Because it happened again, and again; and it would’ve kept happening if he hadn’t joined the military. It would keep happening if he didn’t find Phil.

Blood god!

Techno placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and took a step forward as he felt himself get lost in the wave of a thousand voices. No one had seen him yet, they were all still busy fighting the wither. Very few of them would survive. Though men sodden in sin weren’t the gods’ preferred sacrifice, their blood would taste just as sweet. Techno let the voices boil over in his mind and unsheathed his sword. He gave into the anger that had been rotting deep in his belly for far too long. His muscles tensed in hot furry as he started making his way towards his first victim, the Captain himself.

Then, someone took his hand from behind. Techno twisted around and pulled his sword up to the man’s neck. It was Phil. His eyes were steady and his grip remained firm on Techno’s hand.

“Not now.” He said. Techno fought the fire inside, but his blade stayed on Phil’s neck. He could cut it open in one smooth movement and watch the blood flow like a red river down Phil’s chest. He would watch the pyre dim from his friend’s eyes and his body become cold and blue in a breathless death.

Conquer death. Kill the angel.

Techno remained still with his sword held on Phil’s neck. A glimpse of fear crossed Phil’s gaze that made Techno want to go for the kill, but it was gone in a blink and replaced with a warm and steady stare. Phil was no Angel of Death. He was a skilled fighter, a caring father, and a good friend. Techno fought hard to take the sword down, but eventually he was able to overcome the wave of voices and pull it away, placing it back in its sheath.

Phil didn’t waste any time. He quickly took Techno by the hand and lead him back into the shadows of a dark alley, away from the hectic sounds of death. The voices in Techno’s mind screamed in protest, but he forced them down and tried to focus on what needed to be done.

“Follow me.” Phil whispered, and the two of them raced into a maze of dark streets and black alleyways. They sprinted through the mud and rain, taking lefts and rights, trying to find the quickest way out of town. Then Techno started to recognize some of the houses. Phil was leading him back the way they’d come.

Run! Run! Run!

The voices screamed in Techno’s mind, and for once he agreed. Neither Phil, nor Techno could go back to the base. It was too dangerous. Techno wasn’t sure if Phil had a plan, but he trusted his old friend enough to continue following him.

As the two escaped the village and entered out onto the main road, Techno noticed the small stable from before. He smiled to himself as they ran. Phil planned for them to take the horse and outrun the tropes. They could be able to find another nearby village for supplies and then go from there.

As they came up to the stable, Techno looked for a saddle, but all he found was a dusty tarp. He accidentally startled the horse awake when he tossed it onto its back. He untied the horse’s lead and brought it out from under the awning. Phil helped boost Techno on first, then Techno lent out a hand to help Phil, but Phil didn’t take it.

“I can’t go with you.” He said shaking his head.

“What?”

“I’ll only slow you down.”

“Phil, they are going kill you.” Techno replied. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

“No.” Phil grabbed Techno’s hand and placed something inside. “They will kill us both. This is your way out.” Phil said. Techno couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After everything they’d been through.

“You need to come with me.” Techno insisted. Phil shook his head and tightened his grasp on Techno’s hand.

“No, you need to find Will.” Techno was taken aback by the sudden mention of Will. “They’re not going to kill me, not yet. But you are not going to get another opportunity like this. I can make them think you’re dead.”  Phil’s tone was intense and his eyes were desperate. There was no reason for Phil to be this confident. He had to be keeping something from Techno. “Trust me.” Phil pleaded. Techno held Phil’s gaze. He couldn’t abandon him. Phil had been his best friend, his only friend for years. He was all Techno had. He was Techno’s home. Techno couldn’t let this be the last time they ever saw each other, but as he stared into the pleading eyes of the only man he trusted, he had faith that it wouldn’t be.

Techno swallowed the emotion lumping in his throat. He reached under his chest plate and tugged the medallion out from underneath. He pulled it over his head and handed it to Phil who took it carefully into his free hand. Phil let the skull and the pyre spin in the rain as it dangle from his fingertips. He knew how important it was to Techno.

“For protection.” Techno said. Phil’s eyes softened for a moment before growing serious again. “You can give it back to me when we see each other again, in L’Manburg.” Techno prompted. Phil placed the medallion around his neck and gripped it tightly. He nodded silently to Techno, his eyes bloodshot from holding back tears. Techno gave Phil’s hand one final squeeze before letting go. What Phil had given him was one of Will’s letters. Techno made sure that it was put safely away in his belt before commanding the horse forward, then he turned one last time and pointed at the medallion.

“I better get that back.” He said, and then galloped away, shoving the guilt and worry down with the cheering voices.

…

Status Report Full Report Eastern Front: Company #008 Company arrived in Saint Chastity’s at an estimated time of 0400hrs led by troop Captain Edgar Peirce. Company was attacked by class 1A wither. Company contained a total of 119 soldiers. Company left Saint Chastity’s with a total of fifty-six soldiers presuming a death toll of sixty-three. Eleven identifiable bodies, eleven unidentifiable bodies, forty-one missing bodies presumed burned to ash. No witnesses.

Presumed dead: Captain Edgar Peirce, Lieutenant Tate Tapia, Sargent Aran Curran, Privet Brogan Spencer, Privet Bryce Carson, Kyran Nichols, Reo Bone, Brendan Lin, Laith Dunkley, Kris Garner, Daryl Bowes, Vincenzo Montgomery, Shaan Ward, Presley Olson, Harlee Derrick, Winston Schmitt, Kohen Ewing, Cai Thomas, Andy Stott, Denny Harmon, Ammar Strickland, Charles Muntz, Mike Rudd, Luka Kaur, Technoblade, Paolo Laing, Joe Berg, Russell Chan, Peter Frazier, Torin Kelly, Martyn Collins, Harlow Bowers, Buddy Guerrero, Kiki Trejo, Timur Stewart, Jack Glover, Evan Marsden, Olly Avery, Amir Russo, Raj Miles, Eddy Moreno, Thomas Webster, Shelly Franco, Yaseen Acevedo, Seren Mclellan, Kynan Ferguson, Roma Park, Nola Mcgowan, Eesa Williams, Wasim Mcfarlane, Leon Randall, Joe Mama, Kit Holding, Gordon Ramsey, Pawel Bostock, Sylvester Nixon, Karl Simons, Shayne Mckinney, Aneurin Mckenzie, Robson Myers, Michael Finche, Sam Osborn, Philza Minecraft.

…

My dearest Will,

I’m not even sure you still read these.

I’ve sent someone to you. Perhaps he can help with whatever’s been keeping you from my letters. It’s my friend Technoblade. Yes, “the blade” as Tommy once wrote me, (thank you for restricting his writing privileges by the way).

I wanted to make sure that you received this letter before hearing the false news that Techno and I are dead. It was the only way out of the military, and if I can be honest with you, I didn’t expect to make it. I asked Techno to trust me, but I didn’t even trust myself. I thought I was going to die. I thought that sending Techno to you was the last thing I’d ever do. I’ve wanted for you two to meet for so long and I couldn’t risk Techno’s life with the bounty on mine.

Somehow, I made it. I did terrible things to get myself here, but I made it. And I’m coming to see you. I can’t wait to meet all of your friends and tour L’Manburg and Pogtopia. I’m sure you’ve done a wonderful job.

Please write back soon.

With love, Phil

[jaskier-cult]

the witcher Avatar AU

The Blue Avatar; part one

Benders came to be after the Conjunction of Spheres, a cataclysmic even that took place approximately one-thousand five-hundred years ago. During the occurrence, the unmarked and magic lacking universe collided with another unknown universe. From that reality poured in monsters, the forces of Chaos amongst other forms of Life and Power. 

Multiple creatures acquired the ability to bend the elements of the world, including but not limited to certain magical animals (new species from the Conjunction of Spheres, such as badger-moles and sky bison), monsters (dragons and mermaids), elves, dwarves, and humans. Those who acquired what was coined as “bending,” though only if an anthropomorphic creature utilized it, were random and undetermined. Criminals and peasants, heroes and royals, anyone could be a bender. At first, it was considered a gift of magic, one that didn’t have to be sacrificed for and bent under force and control, like the Chaos many humans called “mages” and “sorcerers” did. Bending was its own unique magic, tied infinitely to the other realm that collided with theirs. Bending was connected to the world in a way Chaos could not ever be. 

But bending was limited. Those who were benders could only bend one of four elements; fire, air, water, and earth. Some benders were prodigies, could move whole mountains, could level entire forests; some benders could just barely heat their pot of tea, could freeze a pint of water. 

Bending techniques were developed over time, over centuries, and nations among humans formed surrounding respective bending disciples.

The Air Nation, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, and the Water Tribe. 

Centuries passed with these nations, with bending being cemented in culture, and then it was revealed one person could bend all four elements; but only one person in the whole Continent. 

No one knew why, in the beginning. It had never been seen before. 

The first person to bend all four elements was discovered in the Fire Nation; the royal prince, heir to the throne. The term “Avatar” was coined, for the royal prince was the incarnation, embodiment, and manifestation of bending. He could harness all four elements, and through training and discovery, was revealed to also have a connection to the Forgotten World – the universe that caused the Conjunction of Spheres. While it was most often referred to as the Forgotten World, it was also soon called the Spirit Realm, for it was where the magic, monsters, and spirits of the world presided. 

When the Avatar died, the world went into mourning.

Then, naught a seven years later, another person was discovered to have the unique talent of bending all four elements; a young elven air acolyte from the Air Nation. The young acolyte was named the New Avatar, and she was trained in all four elements, just like the one before them. 

Every time the Avatar died; another one would pop up a few years later, young and knowing. The first Avatar was from the Fire Nation, the second from the Air Nation, the third from the Water Tribe, and the fourth from the Earth Kingdom. The Avatar was human, was dwarven, was elven. Anybody could be the next Avatar.

This pattern continued.

Soon, it was discovered that the Avatar was continually reincarnated; it was the same spirit cycling through all four bending cultures.

But then the world started to turn dark.

Often referred to as the golden age, it was overshadowed when the Avatar was reincarnated once more into the Water Tribe. The chief wanted to use the Avatar to expand their influence and claim on land; but the tribe split in half with protests. The Avatar refused to help with the chief’s selfish and dangerous agenda; they were accused of not being patriotic, of being a traitor to the Water Tribe. The chief’s brother, using his influence, convinced much of the tribe to separate from the chief to protect the Avatar, and to stop the Water Tribe from inducing war with the other nations.

Thus, a civil war broke out, creating the Northern and Southern Water Tribes, respectively.

The Avatar died and was reborn in the Earth Kingdom.

There, they were treated as something Other than human. Not less than, but not equal. They were treated as a mere spectacle, an over-glorified warrior for the Earth King. The Avatar, knowing the power and influence they held, refused to swear fealty to any one power; they were neutral. They announced for every nation to hear, that their purpose was to ensure peace in the world. They were there to smooth the ripples between the Forgotten World and the New World.

This created chaos in the Earth Kingdom, for the Earth King ordered the Avatar be beheaded for treason. Many claimed that was not within his power, for the Avatar was its own power. But the novelty of the Avatar had worn off through the centuries, and they were chased from their homeland, where they were eventually found, gagged, and executed by an elite military team before they could master the four elements and save themselves.

The Earth Kingdom shattered the day the news of the Avatar’s execution went public. The news spread like wildfire, and soon the royal Earth Family was hunted and burned at the stake. A power struggle formed in the Earth Kingdom, shattering it into pieces of smaller territory, the north, east, west, and south all separated with their own powers, with hundreds of ranks of new nobles and “royal” families vying for authority. 

The next Avatar was born in the Fire Nation.

They were but a mere six years old when they awoke screaming one day from a nightmare, and shakily told their mother that they had been killed by the Earth King.

This marked the first time their past lives could affect their current one.

Solemn, knowing their child was the next Avatar, the mother took them to the Fire King.

The Fire King kept them as their pupil and taught them fire bending, and they soon learned the other three disciples of bending underneath their king. It was almost a father-child relationship. They were more beloved than the king’s own child. This caused tension among the two, and one day the heir to the Fire Nation goaded the Avatar into a fight. They laughed and told them that they were just being groomed to serve the Fire Nation; that they weren’t truly neutral, because they served the Fire King.

In anger, the Avatar lashed out and killed the heir on accident, for that was not their original intent. The Fire King, enraged, had the Avatar imprisoned for treason, but they would not make the same mistake as the Earth King.

So, there the Fire Avatar sat, and withered away for the rest of their life, tortured, malnourished, and delirious from the years spent in a dark room with only isolation and cold rock.

The Avatar was reincarnated into the Air Nation but was hunted by the other three nations for their power and influence over magic and the Forgotten World. So, the Avatar ran. Desperate, they bent and used the land to their advantage, but they were so young and only with their nomad mentor to help, who soon died because the young Avatar accidentally killed them with their bending. It wasn’t long before they, at a mere eight years old, were found and brought before a council of benders, and judged to be executed for their crimes; thievery, murder, breaking law and treason in all four nations.

The people saw how the Avatar, at such a young age, could wield such power and tried to abuse it for their own sake. They saw the Avatar try to escape, to use the world to their advantage.

Around this time, after years of struggling and through years of selected bloodlines, humans eventually mastered some extent of control over the forces of Chaos, the first magical force to be conquered by humans without the power of bending. And so, the first sorcerers came to be.

This was the beginning of the oppression of benders.

With Chaos, there was no need for benders, who only oppressed those without their gift. There was no need for the natural magic and order of benders, when sorcerers with Chaos could accomplish feats tenfold, with much less limits, and with far more restraints to be bound to help humans.

Striving to find their place in this new world, that had been plagued with benders and magic and monsters, humans declared war on the elder races, who did not anticipate such arrogance. After all, the humans had been co-existing with them for centuries upon centuries. But that all stopped when they stopped having to rely on benders, and began to rely on Chaos, and began to feel that they were more than those who utilized the natural forces from the Forgotten World.

Due to passivity or inability to contain the barbarism, the elven, dwarven, and halfling populations were pushed back and eventually conquered. It was in this way that humans came to rule the world.

Benders were suppressed all throughout the Continent, believed to be equal to the elves and monsters that roamed land conquered by the humans. Benders were ostracized, were treated as less than human, until the practice and ability became almost extinct. The cultures left over from the Golden Age of bending remained, cemented in history, but the founders were erased. 

Instead, the mages and sorcerers, who would not dirty their hands in pest control for forcing back the monsters that started to intrude on human lands, created witchers.

Through their Chaos, they forced a mock ability of bending upon human children, making them Other, for it was not truly bending that they possessed. These new benders deemed “witchers,” were stronger, faster, and better than the average human. They had enhanced senses and longer lifespans. They were still ostracized for their mock bending, but they wouldn’t be increasing the population of benders anytime soon, so they were a necessary evil. (For the Chaos made them sterile, a sacrifice for the power they were forced to wield, when bending should have no need for sacrifices).

Thus, the Order of Witchers was created after corrupted bending was made.

There were seven witcher school, each with a different bending discipline.

School of the Wolf; Kaer Morhen; fire bending.

School of the Cat; Stygga, Dyn Marv; air bending.

School of the Griffin; Kaer Seren; earth bending.

School of the Viper; Gorthur Gvaed; water bending.

School of the Bear; Haern Caduch; earth bending.

School of the Manticore; fire bending.

School of the Crane; air bending.

Two fire bending schools, two air bending schools, two earth bending schools, and one water bending school, because water bending was considered a weaker offensive bending discipline, and limited by their element (for you could never truly run out of air; there was earth all around, structures made of stone; and fire came from within you; only water needed a constant source).

Bestowing this corrupted form of bending, forcing Chaos and the Trials upon the young boys, mutated the boys. Their eyes turned yellow and cat-like, they were hopped-up on testosterone and their muscles grew twice as fast as a normal man’s. They became super-humans, almost immortal; for all benders were naturally physically enhanced, but witchers were benders with corrupted bending.

In the early stages, though, the mages tried to create a mock-avatar.

They tried to bestow more than one bending discipline on the young boys, but they all died from the Chaos. The only reason the Avatar was able to harness all four elements was because of their connection to the Forgotten World.

Through all this, the Avatar still existed.

But instead of being treated as a hero, as a symbol of peace and power and the world, they were always hunted down and killed, to make sure that there would never be an uprising of benders ever again.

The moniker “Avatar” was shunned for centuries because it was believed the Avatar oppressed the poor non-benders and abused their abilities; propaganda spread that the Avatar’s mission was to bring a world ruled by benders and magic.

So, every time the Avatar is found, they’re tracked down and either killed, enslaved, imprisoned, or have their bending forcibly locked away by a team of mages and sorcerers.

<><><><> 

Cue Jaskier being born. 

[bunka-japan]

Top Famous Japanese Samurai Names And History

The famous samurai is a famous character in Japanese culture. Samurai have been around for centuries and they are often the center of attention in many films, novels, and video games that are set during this time period. However, not everyone knows who some of these famous samurai were or what their stories entail. This article will list some famous samurai names and give you an overview of their history with the hope that it will help you get to know Japan's most famous warriors better!

There are many great samurai warriors in the Japanese history, such as Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Tokugawa Ieyasu. But there are other greatest to learn about Miyamoto Musashi or Tomoe Gozen - a fearsome female Samurai of Japan.

The samurai were a very well respected and powerful group of people. They followed the bushido code which is an honor-bound set of rules that prescribes how to live as a warrior, emphasizing practices such as martial arts mastery, integrity in life and death; courage; respect for one's opponents or superiors regardless of rank or social status (read more here). The Meiji Revolution abolished their power but they still had some influence on Japan way into present day because many became businessmen, professionals etc., while others helped shape Japanese culture!

If you are looking to learn more about samurai fighting styles, read this "What Type Of Martial Arts Did The Japanese Samurai Use?"

Here are a list of famous Japanese samurai names and history:

  1) Miyamoto Musashi (1584 – 1645)

(Source, 1)

Born in 1584, Myamoto Mushashi was a famous and accomplished soldier, swordsman, and artist. When he was on the losing side of Battle Sekigahara in 1600 then he became ronin samurai which meant that his lord no longer recognized him as an official member of their army because they had lost this battle.

Miyamoto Musashi was a Japanese swordsman and philosopher who developed the two-sword technique known as nito ichi ryu. His reputation is so great that he has been referred to by other names, including kensai meaning sword saint or satsujin shoji which means killing machine in English.

He had many duels against rivals but his most famous fight occurred on an island with Saski Kojiro - ending quickly when Miyamato struck him over the head with a wooden sword after this duel, he retired from society despite teaching select students and helping suppress rebellions such as Shimabara of 1637.

Myamoto Mushashi was a great painter and author of the famous Book of Five Rings. He also wrote many other books on his martial art, philosophies, or sumi-e style paintings as well as bird paintings which are renowned in particular for Shrike Perched on Withered Branch (Kobokumeikakuzu) and Wild Geese Among Reeds (Rozanzu).

Myamoto Mushashi is most famously known for being an influential Japanese warrior who mastered multiple forms of combat from different cultures such as kenjutsu to jujitsu.

  2) Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537 – 1598)

(Source, 2)

Toyotomi Hideyoshi lived from 1536/37 to 1598 and served as chief Imperial minister. He helped finish to 16th-century unification of Japan, helping create the country we know today.

Born a peasant in Azumato Province (modern day Nagoya), Toyotomi Hideyoshi left home when he was still a boy and became page at one feudal lord's mansion where he met Oda Nobunaga who would become his mentor for life - or so it seemed until this great man rose through ranks becoming samurai under him before joining armies fighting other clans trying unify all of Japan with their own rule into what you see now on your map.

Hideyoshi, the man who would later build a castle in Osaka and become one of key figures in Japan’s unified government. He clashed with Tokugawa Ieyasu during Nobunaga's attempt to unify the country but their alliance remained strong. Hideyoshi was then appointed as an important minister by his lord Toyotomi Otomo so that he could continue pacifying regions without conflict from other lords like Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Toyotomi Hideyoshi was responsible for solidifying the caste restrictions that marked Tokugawa Japan. Farmers, merchants and monks were forbidden from taking up arms while warriors as well as artisans, farmers and tradesmen could only be found in their own areas of towns or villages due to strict segregation enforced by law.

  3) Tokugawa Ieyasu (1543 – 1616)

(Source, 3)

The son of a local lord, Matsudaira Takechiyo was born in 1542. He came into his own during the era when Japan's civil war and feuding lords left it mired with violence and death.

After being sent to the Imagawa clan at four-years old, Ieyasu was raised with education in their court for 15 years. In 1567 he finally took over his family’s position and changed his name to Tokugawa after returning home from a life of exile.

He had a successful military career and ran his own town in the east of Japan. He was given governance over Edo where he established Tokyo, transforming it into what we know today as an international city with millions living there.

After the unfortunate death of his ally Toyotomi Hideyoshi, civil war broke out again. Ieyasu won the war and gained the title of shogun, becoming a military governor in Japan as well as its ruler with few limits on power. So began Tokugawa's rule over all but name for what would be three centuries to come until he passed away at age 80 in 1616 after having been ill for months beforehand due to illness or old age is not precisely known.

His mausoleum at Nikko has become one of most important shrines and was commissioned by Shogun himself from an artist who had taken up residence near Nagasaki during his time there trading with foreign merchants while simultaneously keeping firm control over Christianity-dominating Europe.

  4) Oda Nobunaga (1534 – 1582)

(Source, 4)

Oda Nobunaga's story is the source of many others, but it’s well worth knowing on its own. Born in 1534 and living through a deeply fractured Japan where warlords frequently clashed against one another often causing much death and destruction before he came to power, Oda nobunaga was viewed by some as both an oppressive tyrant and a national savior.

Nobunaga was an eccentric figure. When his father died and left him to take care of the family’s land, he took it with a strange sense of entitlement, associating freely with peasants below their station as well as shunning many traditions that were important under feudalism such how wearing funeral garb at one's own elaborate burial rites. Nobunaga would also break protocol in other areas like when Hirate Masahide committed suicide after being offended by Nobuna ga during said ceremony--the first time anyone had ever done so--- but this event seemed to shock into reality for the young boy who then went on to unite Japan through force instead of diplomacy or succession rights established within Yamato clan itself .

With the help of a few uncles, Nobunaga gained control over his land. He was not in power for long before he faced challenges from one brother and later another that only ended when both were killed by him. All of this happened while other feudal lords sought their own place among them.

The legacy of Nobunaga led to Tokugawa Ieyasu and his allies' unified, more stable Japan. This was because Nobunaga died before he could unite all of the country with a single government.

  5) Kusunoki Masashige (1294 – 1336)

(Source, 5)

When Kusunoki Masashige was born in 1294, he had already been indoctrinated into the Akuto. This group of samurai banded together to form a new government that did not belong to the present regime and despised how under-rewarded they were for their actions fighting against Mongolia. A man with such passion would be destined for greatness - and so it is no surprise when one learns about his early life as an active member of this organization after being raised by parents who belonged themselves.

The Emperor, Go-daigo (96th emperor of Japan) was forced to flee when his plot for take down the government was revealed. He found refuge at Mt. Kasagi in south Kyoto and declared war on the Government who were against him because he wanted revenge after what they did to him years ago which is why he's been plotting this since then. Masashige pledged loyalty towards GOdaijo as one of first people who would help overthrow those cruel men from power so that no more innocent lives are lost just like how many others had died before them too due to their selfish behavior!

The soldiers of Kusunoki Masashige were not like other warriors. They didn't wear fine armor or swords, but they threw rocks and poured boiling water on those who tried to assault their castle in Kawachi! With the tide turning against them after news of the Emperor's arrest, he opted to burn down his castle and flee without ever being captured by government troops.

Masashige rallied his men and 1,000 locals in Osaka. The government responded in force by laying siege to the small army cutting off their supply lines but Masashige anticipated this and created a secret path for supplies that led to victory as starving forces instead starved with no new provisions from outside sources coming into play which also prompted Emperor Go-Daigo's return who then lead renewed efforts against the Shogun regime.

The samurai had been shortchanged and did not receive the land that they so desperately needed to get them out of poverty. Another rebellion rose in Kysusu, led by Ashikaga Takauji, whom Masashige was able to escape with after he saved his life during this time period.

Masashige encouraged the emperor to make peace, but he refused. He then tried to walk the Emperor into fleeing into exile, but that was refused as well. In the end Masashige led an army with a slim hope for victory against Ashikaga’s forces of 200,000; his own were 899 men strong and lost many on their journey in battle when they finally met near Osaka by 1336 AD where he succeeded suicide after being outnumbered so greatly..

Masahide's devotion and cunning have made him a very popular samurai hero especially within his native city-state (Osaka).

  6) Hattori Hanzo (1542 – 1597)

Hattori Hanzo was a fearless warrior who performed many feats in service of the Tokugawa clan, including rescuing Tokugawa Ieyasu's daughter from a castle and laying siege to another. Born around 152 AD, he served until his death at 55- some sources state that this happened suddenly while hunting or died during battle with pirates on an island off the coast of Kyushu.

  7) Sanada Yukimura (1567 – 1615)

Yukimura was born in 1567 and was known as A Hero who may appear once in a hundred years” and “Crimson Demon of War. His clan, the Sanada, caught up with wars between Oda Nobunaga forcing themselves to fight on different sides when Tokugawa took power after his death. Yukimura fought valiantly against them during Winter Siege at Osaka Castle causing many losses for enemy forces while he himself had smaller force size than that of enemies there.

I think you're tired of hearing about how Yukimura died, but in case it's not clear: he was fighting against Tokugawa forces and they managed to get him. The siege on Osaka castle went well for a while with him leading his troops during the battle until he finally conceded defeat after being completely outmatched by an enemy force that vastly outnumbered them at nearly 10-1 odds.

The defender of Osaka, exhausted and low on supplies but still as formidable as ever. Yukimura Sanada was a powerful general in the late Sengoku period who defended Osaka Castle against overwhelming odds before finally capitulating to Tokugawa Ieyasu's forces after months' worth of bitter fighting.

This heroic warrior is said to have made one last plea with his enemies: "I am Sanada Nobushige."

  8) Uesugi Kenshin (1530 – 1578)

A long time ago, a young man named Nagao Torachiyo led an army in the fight against Takeda Shingen. He was born to be one of Japan's most powerful warriors and leaders when he changed his last name as refuge for Uesugi Norimasa who then adopted him as his son.

After his power had reached its peak, the mighty Uesugi sought to overthrow one of Japan's most powerful lords. He bravely faced all odds but unfortunately died before he could start a battle with Oda Nodabunaga.

  9) Takeda Shingen (1521 – 1573)

(Source, 9)

Takeda Shingen, a 1521-born feudal lord of Shinano Province and one of the warlords who struggled for power over the valuable Kanto Plain in eastern central Honshu. He is best known for his series of battles with another famous warrior by Uesugi Kenshin that became legendary. The two fierce commanders clashed fairly indecisively but cemented Takeda's influence as he became one of the most powerful military leaders in region.

He was most feared by Oda Nodabunaga, and after defeating an army led by Ieyasu he began to make inroads into Tokugawa territory. A year following his victory over the armies of both men, Takeda died at age 39. To this day many people celebrate him as a genius who had skills that should be celebrated throughout all Japan due to the film Kagemusha (Shadow Warrior) directed by Kurosawa Akira being created about him.

  10) Date Masamune (1567 – 1636)

Date Masamune was an incredible tactician who led the Date clan to power. He had a remarkable ability for warfare, earning him such nicknames as "One-Eyed Dragon of Ōshu". At one point he broke alliances and conquered land in his quest to hunt down a defected vassal from Ashina clan. After this campaign, many battles ensued against neighboring clans.

Tokugawa Ieyasu showed no fear when he was forced to choose a side during the Tokugawa-Toyotomi civil war, but once his overlord Hideyoshi died and left him with nothing. A man of great character, he eventually took up arms on behalf of Tokugawa's faction after finding that there was not enough food for both himself and the people in his domain. He then lead them all to an unexplored location which would grow into Sendai City thanks largely due to its proximity from fishing waters--an ideal place for those who are hungry or need work!

Masamune was known for his great sympathy for the Christian population growing in Japan, only reluctantly allowing their persecution in his domain when Ieyasu outlawed Christianity. It is because of Masamune's patronage that there are now a small community of Japanese descendants living in Spain as they fled to escape from religious prosecution on home soil.

Masamune was a powerful samurai who changed the political and cultural landscape of Japan forever. He has been represented in many media that chronicle both real and imagined versions of his life, but this is only scratching the surface to how influential he really was!

  11) Honda Tadakatsu (1548- 1610)

(Source, 11)

Honda Tadakatsu was a loyal servant of Tokugawa Ieyasu, and his contributions aided the success of countless battles. Perhaps being most noted for successfully leading evacuating troops from advancing Takeda forces before their decisive clash in 1584 during the Komaki Campaign, he would also go on to have great successes like breaking through an enemy's defensive line at Nagashino Castle with only 2 outposts left standing by nightfall after engaging them all day long.

His courage is said to have so impressed Toyotomi Hideyoshi, his foe in that battle, that he ordered a general ceasefire. Ieyasu was left with only a few troops but rode out and challenged the vast enemy host himself-and won! He continued to fight for Ieyasu through many battles and campaigns including Sekigahara where future shogun Tokugawa finally defeated him. It's hard not be inspired by this brave samurai who died protecting his lord at age 106 after serving him faithfully all those years ago.

12) Minamoto no Yoshitsune (1159 – 1189)

Yoshitsune was born in 1159, and is one of the most famous samurai's to have ever lived. He fought alongside his half-brother during Genpei War that led him on a path towards fame as he helped consolidate power with both humans and gods alike. Yoshitsune faced many challenges before embarking on this journey such as death at age 10 when overthrowing an attempted coup by court nobles leaded by Minamoto no Yoritomo who were seeking revenge for their father being killed from illness. It wasn't all bad though because after escaping execution himself thanks to monks taking care of him while residing within Kurama Temple.

Yoshitsune is a skilled samurai, the most respected and talented of his time. He took up arms against those who would take what belonged to him - that which was rightfully his by law. Against all odds he won every battle, liberating Japan from tyranny in the process as well as freeing it for himself following so many years spent without power or authority over anything at all."

Yoshitsune fell out of political favor when his brother Yoritomo schemed to end his growing power and forced him to flee Kyoto. He found refuge with Fujiwara no Yasuhira, son of the childhood protector he cherished so much. However, under pressure from Yoshitsune’s own brother-Yoritomo-he had a residence surrounded where Yoshitsune was staying at the time; defeated all retainers that were fighting for their lord in order to escape alive; and finally committed suicide."

A tragic hero as depicted by Japanese culture who has been deeply revered over many centuries: it is an open question whether or not Genghis Khan could have succeeded if without them knowing about this man's life story beforehand!"

  13) Shimazu Yoshihisa (1533 – 1611)

One of the greatest leaders to ever live, Shimazu Yoshihisa was lord over Satsuma Province. Born in 1533 and died on March 5th 1611. He led his brothers uniting Kyushu which they claimed until Toyotomi Hideyoshi took it from them in 1600 but were defeated by him a few years later leading to their final years as Buddhist priests composing poetry that is cherished across Japan for its humility and skillful tactics!

from Bunka Japan - Japanese Samurai Bushido Culture https://ift.tt/3mdJQoB from https://ift.tt/3sEeGb1

[owlyspirit]

I’m not a good writer but I wanted to try my hand at how the Wilbur!Tubbo and Schlatt!Tommy would be like and how it would start Honestly I will probably revise this since I just wanted to use this as a starting point to properly think about it but hey I thought I could share to get your guys input if you have any If you guys got better ideas please tell me I’d like to hear about it :]

„You are overthrowing me?“ Tubbo‘s voice was weak and shaky. Tears were running down his face as he looked down the sharp netherite sword of his former best friend.

Tommy visible tensed up at that. His anger seemingly increased as Tubbo muttered these words. He jerked his hand forward so that the sword would move closer to Tubbo’s neck. It wasn’t touching him yet but somehow Tubbo knew if it came down to it Tommy probably wouldn’t hesitate cutting him down. This was what hurt him most.

“You exiled me! You exiled me again just like Schlatt! I thought I was your friend!” The hurt in his voice was audible.

Tubbo was shaking. Fundy, Quackity and the others weren’t around. They were fighting off Techno and the Wither he and Tommy spawned. He wanted to plead with Tommy but when he opened his mouth his own anger came to the front.

“What else was I supposed to do! I am president of L’Manburg! As president it is my job to secure the safety of its people and you were a liability! If you would have listened to me once in your god damn life I wouldn’t have been forced to exile you!”

“What you are saying is you chose L’Manburg over me!”

“I had to! As if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

For a second Tommy looked down to the ground. Bit his lip and looked back up with new determination “I’m not sure I would have and I’m going to make sure everyone knows.”

A shiver ran down Tubbo’s spine “What do you mean by that.”

“I will have them all work under me and together we will dismantle this cursed government. We will work together but without a president. The most important part is us. This community. I am going to protect this community.”

This was part Tommy speaking but also Technoblade’s influence was found in this undeniably.

Tubbo was so surprised when he found Tommy again. For god’s sake he thought he was dead but imagine his shock when he found out that he was willingly working with Techno. The person that killed him and Tommy swore he would never forgive Techno for that but here they were . Tommy holding an enchanted netherite sword against Tubbo’s throat.

All Tommy ever wanted was L’Manburg. Tubbo remembered these words from him so well. They echoed in his mind every night for the longest time while he was fighting with the feeling of regret and guilt. All he ever wanted was L’Manberg and now he wanted to dismantle it? What the hell happened to him in exile?

Tubbo didn’t think it was even possible for him to fall even deeper into despair in that moment.

This was Tommy and yet it really wasn’t.

“Then you will have to kill me.” Tubbo whispered.

For a moment Tommy moved his sword back as if he wanted to strike Tubbo but he stopped “No, I will do you one better. Run. Run as far as you can. You will never be allowed to be near us. You may watch but don’t you dare get in contact. I hereby declare you a liability to this community.”

“Tommy you can’t be serious!”

“Oh can’t I? You think those few Wither’s were all we have? Right now they are holding their won pretty good but this was all planned. Don’t think I won’t hesitate to give Techno the signal to unleash more.”

And he knew Tommy was dead serious so without truly processing what was happening right now he just ran. Ran out the building he used as his office. Weaving through buildings as he heard Fundy yell for Quackity to retreat. Heard the explosions going off. A blood curdling scream. A maniac laugh. And then before he realized, it was quiet. He stood in the middle of the woods and it was quiet.

“Why did I…“ Tubbo gasped between breaths.

He ran farther than he thought. What was he supposed to do? He just left everyone at L’Manburg alone. He betrayed them.

Did he though? Logically he knew he was betraying them, he should have at least tried to fight back but he had nothing on him.

He needed to get back. Help the others protect L’Manburg but… But what?

They never listened to him. They all did their own thing. Created their own communities only returning to L’Manburg when it was convenient to them. Tubbo wasn’t stupid he realized pretty soon that he was alone.

He was alone.

It was then and there that this despair in him turned into something different. Something fiery. It was pure anger.

He helped them built the town. He even went with their stupid schemes. He tried his best to be a good president but also be a good friend and they just thought of him like a small pawn to be moved around to their liking. They took him for granted. Treated him like a stupid kid. Hell, when Techno and Tommy came rushing in with Withers they didn’t even think about getting Tubbo and let him be cornered by Tommy. They were too occupied with the chance to kill Techno.

Tubbo grabbed a rock and threw it angrily against a tree. Screaming in anger.

Was his presidency doomed from the start?

Why can’t other people take him serious? Why the hell not?

Tommy didn’t respect him and look where that got him.

Will they even bother looking for him once they notice what is happening?

As he stalked through the forest looking for shelter this night his mind wandered. Wandered to places he didn’t like. He didn’t used to like at least. But now his mind was set that he will make sure that the other will take him serious at least once in his god damn life.

Never in his life did he think that he would at some point understand Wilbur’s viewpoint.

[killrockabill]

azula redemptive

so this isnt a full redemption more of a setting her on the path. azula is a character i kind of identify with. i grew up in a chaotic environment and learned to “play the game” manipulate lie and occasionally throw people under the bus. at first it was just a way to get through life but then it kinda just became who i was. i have gone to counseling etc but still occasionally wonder if my feelings are real or if theyre just what theyre supposed to be. i was lucky to have people in my life. my uncle irohs but she didnt seem to. here it is.

Azula was never the type for brooding, that was more zuzu’s territory. Tonight was different. She was tired. It had been a few years since the avatar ended one hundred year war.  she had barely kept track of the actual amount of time. In the time since however; she had not grown complacent. she couldn’t. 

Zuzu had become the fire lord and seemed to be decent enough at it. At least he was capable of not destroying the fire nation with incompetence. While they were never close there was a hint of something in her that could almost be considered pride. No. Pride was the wrong word the feeling was more that of acknowledgment. He and the avatar won and that was the end of that story. 

For a time azula was unsure of her place in the universe. She had lived her life to be the true heir, to be ozai. He was a wrathful and petty god and she was his disciple. 

“ Why was that again?” She pondered. “Well what else could i be? Zuzu?” She knew she was smarter than that.

Zuko was soft and too stupid to play the game, so she used him. Every misstep, every weakness was a way to save herself from being him. Did she ever feel bad about it? Perhaps a long time ago, not that it mattered. You do something long enough you get used to it and when you get good at it you start to enjoy it. Every maneuver, every manipulation was a victory and nobody played the game like her. 

“My shadow lord” a shaky voice called from behind. The cult of ozai must have sent him. They had been useful to be sure, but she hated that name. It reminded her of the darkness within her, the same darkness her mother saw. 

“Yes?” Azula spoke finally in an exasperated tone. “What is it? i have no use of any of you right now.”

“F-forgive me. I-I have come to warn you.” he stuttered as though he were shaken by the earth itself. 

“You? Warn me? I may not be the fire lord anymore, but i am still one of the most powerful firebenders of this generation. What could be coming that I need worry?!” That was a bit more intense than she intended, but anyone who knew her knew it was her default state.

“N-nothing that i'm sure you cannot handle, b-but as your loyal servant it’s my duty. The ozai followers t-they doubt your intentions. They believe you don't intend to restore ozai to power.”

That was a fair thought seeing as she had no intention of restoring ozai to power. She had used them to challenge zuko and make him grow into the strong leader the fire nation needed. He was soft on enemies, azula being a perfect example, and not wary of friends that could turn on him as they do. 

“Hmph, well I suppose i owe you thanks. Tonight you will leave and discard any sign of joining the movement. Live a life well or not it doesn't matter to me” she hated being in debt to someone. Azula could manage some over privileged fanatics, but knowing she’ll have to get her hands a bit dirty is nice.

“M-my lady i-i-i apologize i meant no offense.  please i-“ 

Azula cut him off. “ you misunderstand. Tonight there’s going to be a … discussion, between the rest of the group. Take this and go do whatever it is you people do.” She flipped a gold piece. She couldn't be bothered to remember if he was one of the wealthy members and what's one gold piece. It was his duty to her to report and that should be rewarded. Flies and honey; perhaps if she did that back then those two. NO we are not going there azula scolded herself. Focus.

The man was still sitting there mouth agape like a fool. Was he processing what just happened? Regretting exposing his comrades? If he betrays her and lets them know she's coming she will live up to the darkness that earned her the title shadow lord. 

“I don’t know what you are waiting for, but go. I have an appointment.”  Azula walked past him. Ordinarily any threat of a stanger betraying her and leading her to a trap would be subdued by their fear of her. Azula learned that was not a guarantee the hard way. Her shoulder aches like an old woman from ty lee’s strike. That wasn’t what azula had heard about chi blocking, but maybe this hit was deeper. 

“FOCUS” azula chided herself “her of all people.  Yes, I did use fear to keep them in line but I was good to her. I tried at least. There weren’t many who’s tears could get to me. Fuck, enough. You need to deal with these fools”

Azula had reached the door to where the cult of ozai held their meeting. A Modest wooded shack near where Azula was. It benefited them to be out of the way and not get attention. Azula paused and thought “alright put on the scary eyes” before making her entrance. You could hear the conversation screech to a halt.

“My lady! Welcome, what brings you? New plans rid us of your brother?” One finally broke the silence. The fool that was their leader before azula had seized control. 

The gaul to pretend like they werent just talking about turning on her. Did they know who they were dealing with? She was no longer princess azula daughter of ozai; she was the god now. 

“Its come to my attention that some of us feel breaking my father, ozai out of prison. Let me clear ozai was a fool who bit off more than he could chew trying to conquer the world. He’s weak now spoiled by everyone's fear of him he lost to a child.”

“You speak out of turn little girl. You wouldn’t be so brave as to say that in his presence!” One of them burst out. 

“Ah, yes the withered old man that has been in shackles for how many years?” Azula genuinely could not remember anymore. “I am a prodigy trained by the finest benders this nation has to offer. The bender that conquered ba sing se. Even with his bending he lost to an avatar that I beat. “ 

Azula wasn’t bragging. This was the fight. Subduing them without having to lift a finger. What happens when azula needs to lift a finger? Well, let's say azula would oblige in earnest. She could tell most of them had already seemed to understand. Any of them try something it’ll end one way. She’d won the fight before they could even try; perhaps she should write a book azula mused. “Azulas art of war”. 

The only one not to flinch was their leader. His smile from when he greeted her did not waiver. He must have something in mind, as he would have no way of defeating her in single combat.

“My princess, perhaps you’re right there is something unclear about our partnership.” He started, as calm as can be. “ you are a talented bender to be sure, but without your father’s backing you’re simply an unstable little girl. Your usefulness is only in name and furthering our reputation.” 

Usefulness? This commoner did not just reference her as a prop in their machinations. This was when azula began to get heated, literally. Around her the air began to warm until the air around her blurred like that of the air around an open flame. The room had become unbearably hot for the others, but azula the dragon she was, could handle much more.

Azula let out a sigh. “Unstable?!? Lets be clear you work for me! Not the other way around. I have seen and done more in life let alone for the fire nation than you will in what is about to become a shortened life!” 

Parts of azula began to catch fire as her rage seethed. Zuzu may have been a lame turtle duck of a brother, but he did show her the usefulness of adapting different bending styles. The fire on her crawled across her body into a sphere in her hands. Though the leader had prepared for a direct strike; azula had something else prepared. She slammed her hand on the floor and allowed the fire ball to be pressed on the ground exploding out in a circle around her. 

The cabin had caught fire and many of the cultists were sent flying into the walls and scattered like the insects they were. Azula had practiced that move for some time and understood why strong earth benders would use an impact like strike like that. It was an effective way to combine offence and defense, and not to mention oddly satisfying. 

Azula may have been willing to kill if necessary but leaving them broken was the better choice. She snuffed out the fire leaving the smoke cloud to cover her exit. That should be a clear message to anyone. Princess azula is done.

Fire lord zuko did not need his shadow lord anymore. Azula hated to admit zuko had become a passable fire lord. The land prospered, and while zuko is about peace hes is firmer on asserting influence in world. The fire nation is still a force to be reckoned with and she was as influential in it as the avatar or that slob of an uncle. There wasn’t much to do here. Azula wasnt sure what the next move was, but there were things that needed to be drawn before action could be taken. 

The palace at the fire nation capital. It was much like she remembered less a gaudy statue of her father. The way the paths lead by lantern fire flowed like a living flame. It was soft enough to have a cozy warmth like that of the hearth. If she missed anything the most of the old princess lifebit was how home loosened tension. This unfortunately was not a vacation.

Her brother liked to sit near the water where the woman and him sat. Only two kyoshi to guard him, I suppose if azula was an average attacker that would do. Azula could already feel the exhaustion this is going to come from this

She waited seated at the spot he typically stops at. 

“AZULA” ah that raspy broody voice is never, not funny. He growls like a cub caught without a mother. “What are you doing here?! Trying to cause more trouble for me to clean up? Trying to take the throne?

“Oh zuzu all I’m doing is sitting here. Come I wish to speak to you, as civilly as possible. I’ll even allow one of your fangirls chi block my arms.

A laugh broke the tension “that's even funnier the second time around azula” that cheery pitch could only be one person. Azula perked up in her seat.

“Ty lee, im glad you’re here too. Wait that sounded ominous. I mean the sight of you is pleasant.” Not exactly how she thought things would go they were supposed to be separate. “Well that’s best anyway it’d make the noodle arm treatment feel less awkward when it’s someone you know.” 

“Hey that makes this easy”  with two jabs azulas arms and therefore lightning wre off the table.  “I just want you to know. I am still scared of you, but that fear makes me want to stop it.”

“Ah-um ty lee… i don’t expect you to and ill understand if you say no but i'd like to speak with you after.” Azulas voice was gentle when it reached ty lee.

Ty lee paused to glance back. She was shaken at the thought. Of course she would be what else should she be? Happy? She said it herself she was scared of azula and you cant have friends with that or they betray you. 

“Lets try this one first.”

Azula was impressed at how ty lee could not only give a non answer and still leave someone hopeful. After the war, thinking through things during training sessions, azula had a new perspective on ty lee. Azula never doubted her prowess for a second, but being such a skilled people reader and least suspect of manipulation. She was everything azula was not and then some. Where azula scanned for weakness ty lee scanned the person. Where azula would use fear to bend to her will ty lee was playing the long game with positive reinforcement. Azula needed her to know that and more.

“There.” Zuko barked. “Now state your business.”

“Zuzu, you’re not meant for impressions, that was the worst ‘father’ i've ever heard. I'm leaving the capital and maybe even the fire nation. “

“Why?” Zuko was confused, what would be her next move. other nations aren’t helpless and its not like Zuko would leave them to her.

“What is there for me here? Zuko, youre the fire lord ive made my peace with that. You were too soft when you first got the throne, and while not all of my actions were always so benevolent; after a while it was about keeping you on alert dealing with the changing world. Making sure you had fangs. Father, ozai, had beat you to submission for so long and only at the end of the war did you begin standing.

“You think you were helping me? Training me in some insane way?!” Azula knew he’d be this way.

“Heavy lies the crown on the head of the ruler zuko. I should know i had it for a couple hours and lost my mind.” Azula chuckled at the memory. A foolish child who had nobody left to manipulate and nobody she trusted, of course shed crack. “You don't have to believe me. Im not sure I believe me. If i couldn't be the fire lord, I'd help mold him, I thought. You're still too soft with other nations in my opinion but you can manage. You’ve proven that.”

“And why tell me instead of just going?” Zuko had began to calm down, perhaps the avatar was rubbing off on him.

“The very reason i had to have my arms chi blocked. You fear me. Sure, you could fend me off with your friends but you know i am not something you would want to face. Now you know you dont have to look over your shoulder, at least not for me.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Zuko lowered his tone. If azula were plotting it could’ve worked here.

“No. I expect the next few weeks you’ll be on high alert. You’ll be upping security in cities and in constant communication with smaller settlements. Most importantly, you will be training. You Want to know that if we cross blazes, you will win. That is why i am leaving that response to an unseen threat? Exactly as a fire lord should be.” He won't look at it practically, at this point what is there for azula to be here. the only reason to keep this up is to take that throne, the one that broke her, it may be rightfully hers but she was not rightfully its. It was owed to her but she was not owed to it.

“Listen zuko, we’ve both seen ozai for what he is. The man who needed his teenage daughter to take ba sing se because he never could. The shortest reigning fire lord who faced an avatar that had only one year of training on the day he was at his peak. He called you a loser, and always asserted dominance because that was the only way to get people to not see the pathetic incompetent man with good enough luck to have me. Looking at you now he missed an opportunity at a useful tool.”

“People aren’t tools azula.” The father talk began to itch at zukos emotional scabs. 

“That was the way of the house, and you never learned that. You were too blind or stupid to think ‘whats the right answer’. That is why i was favored. Not luck, i played the game. Not unlike my friend ty lee, there did with me. She saw me.” It appears that azula had some scabs still too. She felt like her skin was raw and each word was hard to spit out.

“It doesnt matter” she took a breath “it would shame the fire nation anyway having to change leaders every few years. Just take my words and do what you will with them.”  Azula was done, this had already been more a spectacle than she cared for. 

“Ok, now what you stroll out the front door? We should take you in. That’d interrupt your trip. What now?”

“Oh zuzu, you are so on guard still. Good. I’ve an exit lined up out if the way so nobody questions my presence. If you take me in? Why? So i can escape THEN leave? Just extra steps. I dont mind waiting however. I think we both got something from this conversation.”

The air was warm. Unseasonably warm, its him. Azula wondered if this was coincidence or if he made hes own version of her technique. Now azula was tense. Impressive brother, but these are your options. 

Finally, a high pitched intervention. “Uhum, fire lord zuko she also wanted to have a talk with me too. Maybe while you think about what to do with her I can see what she wants to say.” 

“Are you sure? If she tries something.” Big brother of the year hm. Hopefully mai watches her back azula mused. 

“Zuko im a big girl. Plus you’ll be in holler distance. Just keep an eye out.” Ty lee turned to azula. “Im going to sit next to you now, and if you try to bend at me or kick me i will be very upset.” There it was. Azula looked in awe at how she managed to channel a determined child while making it clear there will be consequences for any transgressions. Azula truly was a fool like her father before her, failing to see what’s right in front of her.

“Hi azula. You wanted to talk?” She tried to keep the pep but ty lee couldn’t help but be nervous. Azula was one Of the most dangerous people in the fire nation. 

“I did. Thank you. Even though you know there’s a chance i could actually be up to something leading to you or something or someone you care about because all youve ever seen from me is wrath. So, thank you.”

“Ppft, im sorry azula I really am and you’re right i wasnt sure but that awkward rambling reminded me of that day at the beach.”

“ARE YOU MOCKING ME?! I came here and let you chi block me. Do yoy you know what this feels like? Limp noodles where my arms should be.”

“No, no, azula i swear it just shows there's still some of the good in you. Your aura is less vlack more a...deep watertribe navy blue. Theres also the temper still i see” ty lee tried not to give azula a reason to get heated. 

“Oh. I see. Well regardless of the context tgat was rude”

“Yes it was, sorry.” She gave azula the eyes that always got to her. 

“Its fine. I may have also been a tiny bit intense there.” Azula hated this. She was a prodigy. Which meant apologies and social interaction were unnecessary. 

“Ok. Lets try again. ‘Now state your business’” imitating zukos growl of a voice. It got a genuine laugh iut of azula. It had been a while since she laughed at all. 

“How do you do that? Just lull people into a state of placation and lowering their guards.” Azula regrouped.

“Its not a trick like you said. Well, mostly not. I do watch people and learn what i can, but its so i dont do anything to start upsetting people. And the rest is just i have a calming aura” 

“So you’re just a pure sweet roll in this terrible world?” Azula was proud. She made a quip that didnt sound threatening. That practice wasnt for nothing at least.

“I dont know about that. All I do know is that if we try the world doesn’t have to be terrible.  You’ve changed azula. I can see it. Not just your aura either. You meant at least half of what you said i can feel it.”

“Half? That's more generous than i would be in your shoes. I appreciate that and would love to girl talk i think time’s coming so ill jump to it. I want you to know the same as zuzu. I dont have plans for revenge for the prison. I also wanted to say… im sorry. You may have noticed my opinion of my father has changed and as his heir, his duplicate its making me think i need to redefine me. Clearly our way didnt work. I held you and mai by a leash and when it came down to it who do you side with the leash wearer or holder. I’m sorry it happened that way and what it’s probably done since, but there it is. 

Ty lee remained silent.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me or even believe me. I just thought, you of all people deserved that much even from a monster like me.” The silence coming from ty lee was worse than any words she could have said. Each second of waiting for any kind of reply was tourture. Ty lee was never the silent type, so as expected she probably won’t accept it. That's fine azula didnt need her to; she didn’t need her or anyone for that matter. Beasts dont always have packs, especially the most vicious ones. 

Ty lee stood up and took a few paces. Azula watched and simply thought ‘there she goes. She may be giving azula an out as a courtesy, ehich is more than she expected.

“You're not a monster.”  Ty lee's silence finally broke. Her tone was quiet and somber. 

“Youre not a good person. Youre Probably one of the worst friends I’ve had, but we were friends. I dont know how much to believe you, but you’ve apologized for hurting my feelings before in more casual moments. The time away may be good for you. I tell you what, I’ll accept your apology for the both of us. I’ll know i gave you one last shred of trust and if how things ended truly bothered you it can stop now.”

Azula was stunned. She shouldn’t have been. That reaction was as textbook as azula threatening a subordinate. Azula should be a little more at peace now, but she isnt. It hurts. Here was a kind strong woman who managed to make something of herself and azula was nothing anymore. A vagrant who couldn’t do what she was raised to do for a few hours. Kindness and compassion were underused thongs for azula but clearly they’re good for something. 

“Ty lee” azula choked on the words. How pathetic. How embarrassing. On the verge of tears because she was not a monster to ty lee. 

“ thank you ty lee. I didnt and still don’t deserve your friendship, but i think you did something to me. I dont know what, but something. You may go if you wish. I think i want to wait and see what zuko has to say”

“I’ll put in a good word for you. You called him ‘zuko’ most of the time you talked to him. You're a bit confusing right now but I think that might be a good thing.”

“Ha, oh ty lee you have too much faith in people. I could still be the monster in your closet. Don't ever change that.” Azula needed everything in her to not cry, not in front of them. Not again. Never again

Ty lee turned back to face azula. “And you have too little faith. That's ok though, i may not need to change but I really hope you are.” She smile md at azula. It was a soft smile like the glow of a candle in the night and just as warm. How she could manage a real smile towards azula was beyond her. It was beautiful and it had a way of crushing azula. 

Ty lee was gone. Not far, as zuko still had to be in the garden somewhere. Azula was glad for that she could breath and focus on the next hurdle. Getting out with noodle arms would be difficult but not impossible. They were so put at ease about the arms they didnt think of any attacks she could do with her legs. If it came down to it she would set enough of a blaze to keep them occupied and run to her escape location. 

Zuko and the others returned. He had a stoney look on his face more grim than broody. Azula cant be surprised its bad news, but it was less than ideal. Ty lee stood next to him. Had she kept her word and gave her a chance? Or was that just to encourage me to stay. She had been bitten once and was twice as shy nowadays.

“Ty lee mentioned your talk went well. Im glad you didnt try to kick or bite her.”

“Zuzu, what do you take me for a platypus bear or something?”

“Or something” zuko remarked. It was a fair enough jab azula decided. 

“She told me you seem lost in the world. If this is true, we can help. Theres the beach house so you dont have to interact with people unless you want to. We can get you treated like someone in our family should be. You can help us do good for a change.”

“Where do you people get this faith?! I do not intend on being a ward or high end prisoner. I do not belong here, and cannot promise you I’ll be what you want. For all we know i'll turn on you like i have a dozen times over.” Azula could not tell if he really was that foolish or if she should be offended at the patronizing proposition. “No, if im to become something, someone, else it has to be away from here.

Zuko stood silent for a moment. “Very well, but i want you to know that any action against a fire nation citizen is an action on me. the way you and i have been going for years seems to only have one end so i hope you mean all of this. You may go on the condition a kyoshi warrior shadows you for a while.”

“The ones in the elaborate dresses, white, make up and golden fans? Im sure theyll be like a shadow in the night. Though I suppose it could be worse. If i get left alone they will be left alone, just so we’re clear.” Azula hated being followed, but if its just for a while she can put up with it. 

“They’ll watch and see if you're just up to old tricks. You'll get a head start and they'll catch up so you won't be sure they are present. If they determine youre no longer a threat they will leave you.”

“Interesting proposal Zuko spoken like a benevolent leader. I accept.” Azula stood up, and was a little off balance because of the arms but they began to come back to her. “I… suppose that's it then brother. I’ll do you a favor and make it so my way in cannot be used again. We may not see eachother again, so farewell. remember, you are the dragon not some toothless herbivore. Dont embarrass us.” There was an awkward melancholy to azulas voice. They were never siblings in the traditional sense and she did try to kill him. A lot. Still, it’ll be sad to not get under his skin anymore even just a little. 

“Goodbye azula. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for. If all of this is true my offer will stand.” 

Azula had nothing to say. She couldn’t. She fully intends to be gone, and yet he leaves the door open? It’s embarrassing, its offensive, and somehow its cruel. Azula living the rest of her days in a place designed to make her complacent? No. She may not want the throne but she will not be a pet.” 

Azula nodded and walked away. He was as good a brother as you could get in this family and she was as bad a sister as you could get in this family. That bridge is burned whether he realizes or not. 

Now all that was left for azula was to decide where to go. That entire exchange left her raw and exhausted. Zuko may have had a point, the beach wasn’t far and a small coma would be nice. A stop off there get some nation neutral clothes and see where the wind take her. It was as good a plan as any for now. 

When she finally reached the shore and looked up the stairs to the childhood beach house the exhaustion set in. How long had it been since she slept? More than 24 hours to be sure. Azula dropped to her knees and felt the sand beneath her. Soft, like ty lee's smile. 

“No.” Azula dismissed. Now was not the time to reminisce. This sand was once a rock. It could have been a rock that punctured war ships sinking them to their doom, or a smaller rock cutting the food of an unwitting beach goers foot. Azula was that rock. Was she being worn down into sand? Was that ok? Everything in this world wears down, so why not her? If she could be half of what this sand was, pleasant soft and comforting perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.

[fheythfully]

Putting all my thoughts on the 5.3 MSQ under the cut. Beware of course of spoilers! Overall I really enjoyed the patch. There were a lot of times where I sounded like an excited dinosaur.

So first things first, the way the patch started with the kids was so cute. I was expecting more with the Ardbert-esque kid, especially when he said he wanted to adventure with friends because he felt like he was missing something... but then they didn’t? I’m not sure what the point of that line of his was then. Ardbert’s soul is inside ours, and also has been shown to have moved on, but I wonder if some fragment of it--the part that is bound to the specific world’s Lifestream--can be reborn? Anyway. A bit bummed we didn’t get more with that train of thought but it was cute nevertheless. Also, apothecary. I was going “IS THIS A HINT?” the moment the kiddo said she wanted to be one as a WoL.

Also, I am totally writing a shortfic of the twins, Satella and Ryne hanging out in the Crystarium library with Moren bringing them books of interest while they sneak in tea and snacks. Ryne falls asleep and is eventually found by Thancred. Alisaie teases him for being a doting father. When everyone leaves, Satella is left cozily snuggled up as the evening turns feeling almost like home at the Arcanist’s Guild.

I really liked the bit where Alisaie’s desire to surpass the WoL and competitive nature is shown, and that some part of it is due to insecurity. I love the character depth and growth SE gives her over the patches. I just about had a heart attack when she started getting woozy with a noise in her head.

Elidibus feeling summoned by the WoL and seeing an Amaurotine in their stead gave me feelings, because it means we are whole enough now to form some sort of connection to the Ascians. Only sundered ones are left now though, so I wonder if that will still stay true.

I did have a heart attack at hearing Thancred collapsed. I was not expecting him to be okay when we got back to see him. Dawn’s Respite scene was very sobering and set me up for something entirely different than the ending we got (thank god).

Alisaie being stubborn and sullen with the Exarch made me wonder if she’s seeing the past with Louisoux in him, and Alphinaud’s comment about how she handled their grandfather leaving all that well all but confirmed it. That’s very sweet.

I made a very loud note as I was playing at the fact that a Rejoining soul must recognize its part on the Source as itself. Not sure if that was just for the Exarch’s case (though there are comments about how we and Ardbert fused very easily too) but I have Filed This Away.

Seeing Shtola collapsed gave me another heart attack but she’s definitely possessed of nine lives. The duty with Elidibus was fantastic, though the lack of voice acting caught me off guard (covid? are duties never voiced?). Fighting the baby Scions made me full of glee and then it got even better from there. Answers playing over the city, and then the HW theme, and then SB--fantastic. I especially paused when it started snowing. I appreciate a lot what Elidibus was doing, which was trying to show to us that the people who seem so ancient and recreated only as puppets had once meant something to him and his own. The fight was a lot of fun. I took a screenshot of berserk-Ardbert for kicks.

Also, the bit where he calls you by your name, and the name is switched from Elidibus to Ardbert. My heart. I have a lot of notes about this for future writing.

Elidibus as Zodiark’s heart and primal weren’t a big surprise as it’s been confirmed before (I think?) BUT he’s basically the primal for the idea of the Warrior of Light and I think that is magnificent. I still don’t have a full grasp on Elidibus as shown in this patch: his memories are fractured, whether by age or Zodiark; he’s driven both by his own ambition and Zodiark’s influence. He’s all over the place and I’m going to have to take better measure of him as I replay everything in NG+.

I have a note that says, “Ella why are you picking up random things off the ground that your enemies have dropped???” but it all turned out even better than okay. I don’t understand how he could have dropped all those Convocation crystals other than as a plot point but whatever. It was a great sequence. “All that remains is to pray. To pray that we will one day meet again, beneath a blue sky.” Made me tear up. The twisting of the Convocation from the gentle, kind Amaurotines to what they are today is brutally heart breaking.

I made a note of how the trees in Amaurot are starting to wither--I am not sure if we’ve always had that? But if not, definitely a small sign of Hades’ magic fading?

Bear with me now but I CAN’T STOP SCREAMING ABOUT AZEM. I of course didn’t get the title right (my 14th is Altima), but I got the duty/job so almost right. My Altima is the Shepherd, though to the souls on the planet living and departing to create and live alongside the Lifestream. The entire scene with Hyth had me shaking in my chair with excitement over how perfectly it described my headcanon 14th--down to her wandering the planet when she wasn’t in the city. Granted it fits with all our WoLs and is specifically made to be so, but I am so excited. Not sure what I’ll do with this when I write, whether I will alter my canon to fit the game or plow on ahead, but we’ll see. I’m just so excited. And the new TITLE fits my OCs to a T. God, thank you, SE. I also love that we are the “sun” and can’t wait for the future connections and theories about the 14th and Azeyma and Azim.

“After all, I cannot say whether I act of my own volition or by the will of my recreator!” Made me laugh-cry.

Scions confirmed that seeing Amaurot awoke a great grief in them, which was then supported by the random Eulmore NPC crying at the sight of it. So, it’s not even reliant on how whole your soul is: everyone who sees it feels something, a soul-genetic memory, maybe? I can’t wait to use this. Also makes me wonder if this is why in the patch the Scions are more wont to encourage you to talk things out with Elidibus, as in SHB they were pretty set against Emet-Selch.

The new dungeon was okay. I need to replay it again and look around more (is there a hint of Hildibrand there??). The Necromancer and Berserker class, though the latter may be Warrior same way Arcanists are called Ink Mage, made me pout a little. I want Necromancer. Also, THIER White Mages get Protect? Pffft.

I didn’t take any notes for the trial but. It was brilliant. The run through Crystal Tower with the Exarch was a wonderful callback (there were so many callbacks, it was great) and then when he told us to go ahead I was like, you better mean it that you don’t plan to play your trump card unless we’re present! The trial itself was breathtaking. When the Amaurotine first showed up I thought it was Azem, then when they snapped their fingers I was like cool we can do that too, and then they did the Emet-Selch wave and I lost it. HOW!? Shtola has a theory that even she admits is far fetched but. Wow. I am wondering which one it may be: Emet-Selch truly somehow having his soul live (we were just in the space where Ascians’ souls go between bodies) and assisted us; or was he called by Azem’s crystal as a memory; or was it a memory entirely? Just. That cameo. I miss you, Emet-Selch. For yours is the seat of the fourteenth broke me also and I’m just all over the place. Elidibus as the Warrior of Light was great.

I don’t understand why he went Baby in the end there. I can’t imagine the Convocation recruited and sacrificed a child. My headcanon is that it’s just meant to represent his childlike devotion and drive to his goals. He wanted to help his brothers and sisters so badly he detached himself from Zodiark. Seeing him sitting there cradling the crystals and talking about how it’s a beautiful day and they’re not there to see it was heartbreaking. The Amaurotines lost so, so much--and there’s no way to bring any of it back. I am glad the Unsundered have finally a chance to rest.

The goodbye scene with Ryne was a little lacking to me. I wanted Thancred to hug her, damn it. At least he told her he’s proud of her. She’s so brave with how she tries not to cry before them. She’s coming into her own, with her own ideals, but also so like Minfilia’s that it made my heart full. I will act as her post moogle to Thancred any time, kupo.

Also the one line she has in Twine about how Gaia is her friend who will be there for her is sweet and I laugh at the idea of Gaia’s reaction.

Okay, so, the ending. Probably the thing I did not expect at all. I expected death. No one died. The animations were beautiful, and Alisaie was such a joy to watch. Just. I don’t have words for it. I was so overcome with happiness at how perfect they all were: Alisaie sinking into her chain in a sulk, the Archons fondling their weapons, Alphinaud with tea and a book. Alisaie jumping off to go find a fight and Alphinaud’s brotherly exasperation. The banter between Urianger and Y’Shtola. My heart is so, so full.

On to the topic of the Exarch, which I did not expect to have this many feelings on: first of all, I expected him to die. We all did. How can one man survive SO many death flags!? When our WoL ran out of the Stones like a wound up mammet I was there with her, heart pounding praying for it to have worked. I am bummed that we didn’t get to experience him actually waking, but that means I can write about it... which I already did, actually. Because: I came out of this with a very unexpected, slowly unfurling Ella/G’raha ship. This was a surprise because ARR G’raha was not someone I even remembered all that well, as I played CT when it came out, but I remember thinking he was a bit too immature for romantic ships; and the Exarch always felt too distant and too much. I was fond of him in SHB but in a passing way, also because I was a little bitter that he put the Scions in such danger in the first place (though I understand all the good that’s come as a result, like uncovering the true Ascian plots). Seeing him at the end there, as a fusion of G’raha and the Exarch, somehow turned my view of him on its head and in that moment, I could easily see Ella and him running off and having proper adventures together. The driving attraction to all my ships is a form of shared experience, or at least understanding of what it’s like to bear a heavy burden on your shoulders. The Exarch was again, too much in his role, and I couldn’t see Ella feeling comfortable being close with him. But now, with this ending? Watching the two of them run off together? Oh, I am excited.

I even wrote four pages of fluff on how he got those bobby pins in his hair and I never write fluff. Please look forward to it being posted soon.

Lastly: Ardbert. If you’ve been around my blog long enough, you’ll know that I’ve been an Ardbert shipper since HW. SHB was so good to me in that regard. Personally, I got closure regarding him in the scene of him offering us his axe and was happy with it. I was overjoyed to see him get closure with Seto now, too. I’m not happy with Elidibus using his body and then tearing it apart as he did, but: it made for great angst and sometimes that’s actually okay with me. The confirmation that he can talk to and through us is interesting and I imagine that he does so rarely, as his soul is finally at rest with his friends--where it truly belongs. He lets us live our life, and a part of him is always with us, now. I imagine him and Ella at one point having a conversation about her burgeoning feelings for G’raha, as in my canon she’s never felt quite a strong enough connection or level of comfort with anyone but Ardbert, and him giving her his “blessing” and encouraging her that it’s okay to chase after the comfort and happiness G’raha can bring her. Especially since all of SHB she was in a very very bad place and this ending we got gives me such a sense of respite, no matter how fleeting.

Speaking of fleeting: Zenos and Asahi/Fandaniel. I am still hoping Zenos gets more interesting because I just can’t bring myself to like him, and seeing him destroy the Garlean empire before we even step foot into it is making me a little pouty. Fandaniel is interesting on a few accounts: he’s a sundered Ascians, so what will that mean? Clearly he’s been unhappy with the Unsundereds’ plans. He’s also pretty crazy for “the bringer of order”, if we follow the FF12 Espers. We didn’t get a lot so I am hesitantly interested. But also, Asahi? I hate that kid...

My last thoughts on this are: the Ascian storyline was meant to come to an end with this patch, but clearly we’re still getting content. So I am hoping that was for the Unsundered Ascians and we’ll find out more about the summon of Hydaelyn and all that. I... have exhausted myself typing all this. Wow.

BUT I AM VERY HAPPY WITH THIS PATCH AND WILL REPLAY THAT HAPPY ENDING MANY TIMES. I can’t wait for the future.

[elmidol]

Joy is Laughter in the Darkness

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

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Three Blind Tooke 

 Part Three: Death is an Art

 Chapter Fifty-Nine: Joy is Laughter in the Darkness

 Of stars that dim away,

Of paper and of clay,

You are much more

Than what others

Might use you for.

 The Order of Ren devoted its resources into acquiring more ships and dismantling whatever First Order outposts it came in contact with. The Knights were tasked with searching for artifacts imbued with the Force, although there were two that had opted to research countermeasures for the ysalamir; though the First Order had less in number since Phasma’s defeat and the destruction of two specific bases, it would be foolish to think Armitage Hux did not have his own personal stockpile. You were benched in a way. Surprisingly, you did not feel any resentment towards Kylo for sidelining you. There had been flickers in the connection you had with Rey. They struck at random and had brought you to a sudden standstill or else drove you to your knees. They were sharp, perhaps because of the strain on your relationship. You missed her yet struggled to forgive her for the abandonment. Worried what she would think of you upon learning what you had done, the bond you now had with Kylo.

 In place of going on missions, you had been given access to the children that the Order of Ren had brought; not only those they had taken from under your care, others as well. Many of the older children, the teenagers most of all, spoke of the First Order raids that destroyed their villages and towns. There were those that had reached out to the Order of Ren the same way that they had with the Resistance. Aris did not leave your side often, the young pantoran interested in listening to the stories despite having heard them before. 

 The younglings wore clothing with the colors of the Order of Ren, however the fact that they were not strictly in uniform permitted you a chance to pretend that the war had ended. Mentally exploring the possibilities that lay before you once the fighting was done offered you more motivation to ensure the success of the Order of Ren. You considered the routes wherein the Resistance did join Kylo alongside the ever present possibilities that it did not. Naboo was gone; there was no planet to tether you down. Training for the Resistance in the splinter cell, you had not focused on piloting. That had changed over time, and you discovered that being amongst the stars was one of your favorite experiences.

 You listened to the stories from the younglings who wanted nothing more than to pilot starships as well as those that had been allowed to go on missions with the Order of Ren. Due to their Force sensitivity, it had been deemed acceptable for the children to seek out kyber crystals with which they would later construct their own lightsabers. The First Order, too, had been seeking kyber crystals, although these would power weapons of mass destruction not unlike the Death Star or Starkiller Base. Or the weapon that had obliterated Naboo, you thought sourly.

 Aris was one of the handful of the children that had successfully obtained a crystal. Kylo Ren was in possessions of hers and those of the others. Aris was none the bit pleased by this, the young female impatient. This was an area of darker gray that existed in wartime. The children were learning of the duty to protect oneself, their beliefs, their family, all that they held dear. They were not preparing for a time of peace, they were working to join the cause. It brought to mind for you the differences in how your parents had raised you. Your father preparing you for the possibility of another war. Your mother pushing for you to join her in politics that focused on disarmament. Naboo had a long history of rejecting violence.

 Next you considered Rey and the bond that you had with her, the one that had allowed you to feel her emotions on top of your own. For the first time in weeks, you craved it desperately. She had been the first person to accept you aside from Kylo Ren after you had been broken. Rey had chosen to stay behind subsequent to Snoke’s death, and it had been for you. Her statement that the good she had sensed from Kylo--Ben, she had thought--had stemmed from you; an acknowledgment that you and Kylo complemented one another even when you had wanted to flee. She had represented hope for you when you had been terrified the First Order, Snoke specifically, would win. You, meanwhile, had been her hope that Kylo Ren was not beyond redemption or at least finding a gray area.

 Hope could be a noose with which one hung themselves. Choking, you dismissed yourself from the children and return to the quarters that you shared with your husband, who was currently away on a mission with the Knights. The sheets of the bed were disheveled as you had left them at the start of the cycle following a nightmare that had resulted in sleep paralysis. A warmth had spread through you, rousing you and tugging you away from the monsters that had locked you in place. That had been the first time in so long that you had not felt any pain at the sensations through the bond. Normally Kylo was the one to comfort you, your bond with him stronger than what you had with Rey.

 I miss you, you thought, sinking onto the bed then rolling onto your side and closing your eyes. You were not strong in the Force, were not Force sensitive, however observing the children had allowed you to better understand it. They were newer to their abilities. Their struggles gave you the opportunity to observe their mistakes and successes. You mimicked them now by forcing away all obstacles that existed, each thing that took your concentration off of Rey and the bond that you shared.

 Scenery crawled into view, and you were unsure if you were awake or dreaming. To prevent yourself from waking if you had in fact lost consciousness, you relaxed further into the moment. The grass rose from the ground, sprouting up around the forming flowers in the field. A silhouetted stood feet away from you. It wavered between an indistinguishable shape and humanoid. The darkness of the figure dissipated. Rey stood there staring at you. Her eyes wandered along your body as neither of you took a step towards the other. You had started to hold your breath then recalled that this action might be what drew you into wakefulness.

 “Why did you go away?” you asked, the question having been one you had previously supplied your own answer to after Ap’lek had returned. It had been without warning for you. A sort of betrayal that had cut you, transforming the hope that you had held into a dagger that had carved its mark into your soul.

 Rey slipped one foot forward then another. “I was ready to come running back to you, to him, to not think of anyone else.” The hot trail of tears that began to descend from your eyes fell upon the red and orange flowers at your feet. “Skywalker was dying. He told me, after we were back with the Resistance, he said that you and I, that we helped him to realize that Kylo could change. He stopped calling him Ben, which hurt Leia.” A rejection of the past. “Finn missed you, the way the two of you would joke. It made me think of when we had been on Kylo’s ship--when he took your blood.”

 That was when you had learned that he had survived the incident with Phasma. Or, rather, had been revived after she had killed him. Finn had been able to relax despite the fact that the three of you had been captives of the Order of Ren. It was not the first time that Kylo had allowed Rey to leave unharmed. It had not been the last time he had done so for you either. You mirrored Rey’s actions by starting to walk towards her.

 “Finn told me what he saw when Leia and Kylo met. He told me what Kylo said to her.” There was a brokenness to her voice that revealed her true feelings. She pitied Kylo Ren for having been discarded as well as for, unknowingly, being made his replacement. “That’s not what I wanted.”

 “I know,” you whispered. “He does too.” She nodded at your words in acceptance. This was her area of dark gray in the war. It was one that you had faced, to be torn between allegiances. As Kylo was your other half, he also completed Rey just as she completed you. The shared experiences, the similarities, the differences; all of it created the balance within yourselves. “Part of me feels like I betrayed them all, but I also… I feel like myself for the first time in so long. I want them safe, but I also know that they won’t hesitate to try to kill me.”

 She dipped her chin then raised it once more. “You’ve seen a different side of them.” It was true; you had seen them from the perspective of their enemy. When Kylo Ren had taken you as prisoner so long ago, you had stated that the Resistance was different than the First Order. In their ideals this remained true, however in their actions, those lines had blurred. “When I first went to Skywalker, he didn’t want to train me. He feared my power and that worsened if I touched the dark at all. I was terrified of myself.” She did not have to say anything more for you to understand that she had cut you off in part because that fear had been rekindled with her desire to join you and Kylo in the Order of Ren.

 The explanation offered you a sense of peace that you had not known you had needed. This closure was in regards to your feelings of abandonment, of being unlovable, undeserving of love. You had worried that you had become toxic to the point that everything you touched would crumble or wither away. Instead, unbeknownst to you, it had allowed Rey to thrive even when she had been deprived of light. The influence that she had feared was not manipulation; she had known that she would crumble if she had kept contact with you because it was nothing more than being handed a mirror. To look at herself, to love herself, to join what she believed in rather than allow those she cared for push her in the direction they wanted. It was what you had faced when you had left Naboo and your parents. The differences in your life experiences struck anew.

 “My father used to tell me a story,” you said hesitantly, waiting for her to flinch away due to how she had been repeatedly abandoned by those charged to care for her. Rey lowered herself down into a sitting position amongst the flowers. You again mimicked her, the pair of you facing one another as you started to speak. “He didn’t want to talk more about the monster slayers even though those were my favorite. So he spoke of the stars--it’s one of the reasons I liked Poe calling me Supernova. My father told me that the stars could feel us watch them, he made them anthropomorphic. Every person in existence has a star that is their own. Some days they are brighter than others, other times they fade. You can’t see them in the sky.

 “When they fall down to the planets, it’s the galaxy crying as our heroes fall in their battles. The stars that go supernova, they’re martyrs. They were never afraid to face the possibility of oblivion. Instead they let their temporary light strengthen everyone else. Other stars that went supernova, they were the beings that wanted chaos, wished for the aftermath and sacrificed themselves in the hopes that a black hole would swallow all the other stars.”

 Rey was watching you with widened eyes. Her lips had parted and she paused between breaths. She searched your face while you told the tale that you had learned in childhood from your father. This was something that no one could take away from you nor the others who had heard it. It was precisely how Naboo would live on, how your father lived on.

 “I had been so used to hearing tales of monsters and heroes where things were black and white. Not where something could be either, that it could be evil or good, that the actions were the same even with differing intentions. I shoved that story aside as a fairy tale because I used to hate the gray area it created.” You pressed your hands together in front of yourself. Releasing a laugh, you shook your head. “That is what remains. That it’s all a matter of perspective. If you go supernova, if I do, if anyone does… It’s those who remain that get to spin the narrative of what our actions meant. Skywalker is revered as a hero by so many, yet to others he was the villain that brought the Empire down and thrust the galaxy into disorder.

 “You and Kylo, you both shine so brightly, twin stars that can go nova any second. For the Resistance, if Kylo does then it’s in order to destroy everything while if you do then it’s to help their cause. On the opposite hand, it’s the reverse for the Order of Ren. To the First Order, you’re both villains. You both want chaos and disorder. If you let the fear of what your narrative will become based on the survivors, you’ll just go dim. You’ll flicker out quietly, and those who remain will choose some other star to go nova for them. You have to do what’s right for you.”

 You reached for one of her hands. Rey kept them in place for you to grasp. The flicker of a sensation of touching, of making contact, jerked you apart. You opened your eyes to find yourself staring at the ceiling of the quarters. Though she had disappeared, the warmth from Rey remained with you. She did not close off the bond, which allowed you to feel it: her resolve. The love that she had for herself and for you. You knew what she would choose to do.

 A full cycle passed during which time you observed the younglings again and also utilized the training grounds, enduring the provided supervision without any semblance of bitterness entering your mood. The story that you had told Rey repeated in your mind randomly the entire time. Its truth was applicable to you and better allowed you to understand the decisions that you had made, that you had come to accept. The final traces of worry that you had betrayed what you stood for drifted away. 

 Within that timeframe there had been news of Kylo’s return along with his Knights of Ren. You imagined that they were resting or discussing the results of their mission. The first eight hours elapsed without any of them making an appearance. The tenth hour crawled on, dread creeping into you. You headed for the only area that you could think of besides your quarters or the training grounds; the medbay was buzzing with activity and multiple droids and human physicians alike tried to catch and stop you. You dodged around stormtroopers just as easily. Shoved through until you reached the two beds on which bodies were sprawled. In sight was the bacta tank as well, and it was occupied.

 Your breath hitched at the sight of Ap’lek in the tank. A sharp burn assaulted your lungs, the scream of frustration, rage, despair lodged in your throat. The largest gash was across his chest. The deepest was closer to his abdomen. Bruises marked where something or someone had attempted to crush his windpipe. You trembled in rage, gnashing your teeth together and surging forward. Why had no one come to inform you of this? Ap’lek, who had once been Navrin, was someone you felt close to. They had to know this.

 Turning, you considered the other injured Knight of Ren who was lying on the bed. Kuruk peered down his nose at you, albeit not in disgust. He could lift his head only so much without wincing. The minor injuries he had sustained were covered in bacta and bandages. Blood soaked through the wrappings on his leg. The stain did not spread, which led you to realize that it was old blood. You considered Kylo next. He was seated on the medbay bed across from Kuruk with the remaining four Knights hovering nearby. They each had scratches and bruises that were being patched up by droids.

 “Why didn’t you have someone come get me?” you asked, your tone as harsh as you felt appropriate. Kylo’s lips twitched with amusement. He has something here he doesn’t want me to see. Circumspection revealed what this was. Partially hidden by the Knights’s legs was a container that you recognized by the emblem on its side. It was something from the Empire of old. Curiosity sparked, urging you closer. “Is this one of the projects?”

 Breath audibly escaped through Kylo’s lips. You looked over your shoulder at him, meeting those brown eyes. “Palpatine had a collection of the kyber crystals obtained from fallen Jedi. Some were corrupted, others have retained their original attributes.” There had to be more if he had made a point to keep you away. Your frown deepened, causing him to relent. “These were all within the weapon that Hux used to destroy Naboo.” You recoiled, disgust rolling through your entire body. You shuddered, shook your hands then clenched then, and ground your teeth to keep from gagging.

 “How did Ap’lek get injured?” you asked through gritted teeth. The answer would likely cover the source of his own wounds, which is why you did not feel guilty for failing to explicitly question that. You knew, too, that he would prefer attention not be given to his minor cuts and bruises.

 Kylo addressed the four Knights of Ren who were standing instead of answering your question. He instructed them to take the collection of kyber crystals to their appropriate place--what that meant, you were unsure and did not care much to know at the time. They were then to work with the children who had been learning healing abilities with the Force. You thought back to when Kylo himself had taken away your pain with his hands. The injuries on each of the Knights would have a minor toll on the energy in the children. This was nothing to jeopardize their health; it would benefit them in their training simultaneous to removing the inconvenience of those scrapes from the warriors. Cardo picked up the container then took the lead in exiting medbay along with the others.

 When they were gone, you walked to the edge of the bed and climbed onto it with him. He grunted but did not wince. Only minor injuries, you noted again. Ap’lek, on the other hand, had wounds that brought to question how his internal organs fared. Fear stilled your tongue, not allowing you to ask more about them.

 “The Resistance and First Order arrived during our retreat.” On a previous mission, the Order of Ren had been last to arrive; the Resistance had acquired a portion of the supplies they had wanted from the First Order, which had been successful in keeping the rest. “The stormtroopers have been ordered to execute suicide runs. One blew himself up in an attempt to kill two of my Knights and three Resistance fighters. Ap’lek and one of the Resistance were closest to the blast.” A pause. “Rey used her power to stall the debris as best she could.” He furrowed his brow, his gaze landing on your face. There was no need to tell him; Kylo knew that the bond had been reopened.

 You looked over at Ap’lek, your eyes scanning each of his visible injuries, which covered much of his body. Now you noticed that some of the markings you had mistaken for bruises were in fact charred flesh. Next you inspected Kuruk’s leg and its bloodied bandage. He drummed his fingers on his stomach and endured your scrutiny. Even with bacta, if the damage had gone deep enough into his muscles, it would take time for him to recover.

 Again you faced your husband, eyes tracing the scars on his face and now the ones visible on his exposed chest. You remembered when he had reopened some of those wounds to bring you items to comfort you. You had been mourning your mother, who you had believed had perished in the destruction of the Hosnian system, and had been losing the will to continue to live. Unable to reveal the truth at that time, he had instead returned to you the tooke hairclip. Had been bitter and angry, Kylo having just killed his own father. He had resented you from speaking about your own father. Despite that anger, he relented each time.

 You touched the pads of your fingers to the scar that had been created by a bowcaster shot. Kylo’s eyes were roaming your face; a new memory struck you, wherein he had told you that your face had been the last thing he had seen before he had gone blind and died. Which meant, you noted, that the injury from Phasma had not stolen his sight from him immediately as you had once believed.

 “My mother didn’t tell me as many stories as my father did,” you murmured before falling quiet. You had remembered just how recently his reunion with Leia had been. His head tilted a fraction to the side, a silent form of encouragement. Licking your lips, you continued. “There were people made of paper and people made of clay. The paper could be cut and shaped through force. Or folded without being torn or damaged. The clay could have pieces chipped away. It could be molded so thin that it broke. Or it was shaped into something stronger.” Your fingers shifted up from the bowcaster scar to the scar on his shoulder where Rey had pierced him with the lightsaber on Starkiller Base. “Both can weaken if they get wet, although clay is more resilient.”

 A grunt of thought from him. You waited a breath to see if he wished to interrupt the narrative with a question or comment, however Kylo stayed silent as did Kuruk.

 “No matter what the people were made from, they could not last forever. Something would wear them down. Break them. If a strong clay bowl is dropped from a great enough height or if enough pressure thrust upon it, it’ll shatter. You can glue or tape the pieces together, but it’s never quite the same. The point was that we, no matter what we’re made of, we’re ephemeral. We take for granted what it cost to get us where we are. We sometimes ignore if the hands that shape us are taking things away or if they are using all of us.

 “Even when we shape ourselves, we’re limited to those same methods. I kept working to cut away pieces to fit what everyone else wanted. I stopped doing what I had in childhood: using every part in a unique way to fit who I wished to become. I let their narrative dictate what I wanted, what my actions meant. Being with you and Rey, that let me see what I was doing. I realized again that I had to know and accept myself. I was so afraid to leave the Resistance and join you because I let everyone tell me what that would mean. That it would be me turning away from what I believed in. What I believe in is an end to this war, a way of life beyond the shadow of the Empire and the First Order.

 “At first when you said that you were both the Dark and the Light, I thought you were taking Rey out of the picture of the future you kept painting for me when we spoke. But it wasn’t that, was it?”

 “No.” Soft, quiet. His eyes meeting yours, his chin trembling and lips quivering. “She is the Dark and the Light as well.”

 You leaned forward so that your forehead rested on his collarbone. “It’s accepting the gray. Letting both exist without fearing them. Where the Sith and even Snoke rejected the Light. Where Skywalker feared the Dark. You said that you wanted to regain your vision after you heard me with Finn. Knowing you had to sacrifice part of yourself to be able to see again...what if it had been the part of you that loved me?”

 “I would have to be destroyed entirely.” The warmth you had felt with the renewed connection you shared with Rey was nothing in comparison to this heat at his words. That he felt for you with his entire being, words you knew to be the truth due to the bond you had with him. The war had ceased being solely a quest for power over the galaxy. He had decided to fight for you, to be with you, to see what you saw. To discover what made you laugh when this war had stolen almost everything from you, losses he, too, had experienced. You each had raged in your own ways. Yet your laughter in that moment had been light and genuine. “I can sense that she will join. He may as well.”

 You nodded, thinking of what it might mean for more of the Resistance if Finn and Rey both made the decision to join the Order of Ren. Rey, who had been unfairly positioned into being a face for the cause. A puppet. A replacement for the long-dead Ben Solo. What she symbolized did not fully align with her own personal beliefs.  These she had been afraid to admit even to herself, causing her to shut you out. You almost snorted at that, knowing you were guilty of the same crime.

 “You were told a lot of stories as a child, weren’t you?” Kuruk asked. You twisted around and grinned at him. “Write them down.” It was something that you had only passingly thought. Preserving them beyond just your memory in case death took you before the chance to tell the stories to others came. Naboo had to live on in every way that it could. It was more than a casualty in this war. A sense of calm, of peace, enveloped you like a warm embrace.

 Scooting onto the bed beside Kylo, you laid down with him and listened to the sounds from the bacta tank. You had to hold onto the belief that Ap’lek would heal. While he did so and while you were not on missions, you would compose the tales that your parents had told you. Include many of the stories from teachers and others that had not, to your knowledge, been written. There were places on the holonet to send them where they could be shared on a greater level. You would have to be careful, though, so as to not lead the First Order to you.

 When the war was done, you wanted to continue to give life into the galaxy. They were the lives of times and people gone by. Words that could shape generations. It extended beyond resisting some opposing force.

 You moved so that your ear was pressed to Kylo’s chest. You listened to and counted his heartbeats, grateful that he was alive and there with you in that moment.

[whumpiary]

For those following plot, this takes place in The Bergen Estate years. For those not following the plot, no worries! Context is not super important.

[content warnings: mind control, implied/referenced noncon, normalisation of noncon, implied/referenced abuse, intentional triggering, discussions of sex with a sex-repulsed character, suffocation, victim blaming]

-

Navigating East Wing is like running on an automated track. Even if you fucked up badly enough to end up in the wrong room, they were all identical anyway. Five sets of bunks along the curve of the wall, hardwood floor-boards, and neat blue curtains on the tiny windows up above the top bunks. Any of Christopher’s charges can find their rooms with their eyes closed. Or absent, anyway.

So to be honest, Cass isn’t really paying attention as he walks into his boarding room. He’s far too busy thinking about the massive nap he plans on taking as soon as he climbs the ladder to his bunk. He doesn’t see Harley on their bunk as he enters, clearly in intuitive expectation of his return. He doesn’t even notice the scoff of annoyance that he’s here. To be honest, it’s all he can do not to jerk in surprise when the other charge’s voice rings out through the room.

“So golden boy does know how to find East Wing,” they sing out with a sigh “I thought you’d forgotten”

Cassius glances to the opposite corner of the room, fixing Harley with a dead smile as he turns to climb the top bunk that’s meant to be his.

“Well, see some of us have a mental capacity bigger than a tadpole. I know that’s a hard concept to wrap your little head around, Harls”

He ignores Harley’s scoff as he swings his legs up onto the mattress and starts picking through what’s been dumped across it while he’s been… not here. Clothes, books, a few loose sheets. Wrappers from some contraband snacks some of the other charges must have smuggled in. He can’t help but feel a tiny surge of pride at seeing that, only to have it curdle a little as he finds a dirty sock in amongst it. Maybe Harley’s a little bit right. He hasn’t been here in a bit. But who dumps on fucking sock on a top bunk? A singular, crusty, sock?

He picks up a book with a blue cover with some picture of a tree curling under to frame the title. It’s clearly Harley’s. Only Harley reads that fantasy crap. He drops it on the ground, close to the foot of the other charge’s bed where they can reach it as he keeps scooping other not-his-shit onto the ground.

“Watch it,” Harley spits, noncommittally, betraying how little they actually care as they flick out a foot to scoop the book towards themself “That’s mine”

Cass rolls his eyes, dumping linen out-jackets and slacks onto the ground below, before thumping down on his back, “Then it shouldn’t be on my bed”

Christopher never shuts up about how much he adores Harley. Particularly their… reliability. Whatever Christopher wants from them, he can get with a word, a glance, a flick of the hand. They were the perfect little charge for him to show off and enjoy when he wanted someone who was responsive, who followed orders. Reliably docile. Reliably reactive. Reliably cooperative and accommodating. Christopher loves it. Loves them. Not that the man would ever actually tell Harley as much. According to Christopher, someone like Harley needed a little apathy to force them to keep improving. To force them to stay pliable. To stay eager to please.

“You know it’s just because they know what’s coming, right? Just that sixth fucking sense thing”

“Of course I do, Cassius”

“Doesn’t that rub you the wrong way though? The fact they only do what you want because they know the outcome before it happens?”

“You use the things you pink up on to give me exactly what I want, don’t you? Why shouldn’t they use theirs to influence cause and effect? Especially when it works out so well for me”

The intuition is probably why the only kind of reliability Cass saw in Harley was how reliably they refused to give him what he wanted. On the days Cass felt like baiting them they’d never bite, and now, today, when all he wants is some space for a fucking nap Harley just keeps throwing shit at him. The want, want, want to be angry. The want, want, want of a fight. Like waves against a cave wall, rough and unrelenting. 

“I’m sick of you acting like you’re better than the rest of us,” they spit out, unprovoked.

Cass sighs, resigning himself to the fact that the nap isn’t gonna happen. He rolls onto his stomach, picking a discarded magazine from the bunk railing. He flicks through it, staring absently at the pictures.

"Maybe I am better than the rest of you”

Another scoff. It’s almost be a laugh if it wasn’t so heavily bitter.

“Nah, you’re just the flavour of the month”

“You getting jealous, Harls?“ he says flipping to the next page in the magazine. He flicks his eyes towards Christopher’s other charge with a smile, "’Cause it seems to me I’ve been flavour of the month for ten months straight”

There’s a silent fuming from down below. 

“Why are you even down here? I thought you had a room” they snap, clearly desperate to keep a withering flame stoked. Waves against a cave wall. Cass lets his eyes slide over them for a second before looking back to the magazine.

“Daddy has a meeting,” he says, plainly.

He can practically feel the skip of Harley’s heart as he says it. He has to suppress a smirk at how small their voice goes.

“Quit it. You know he doesn’t like it when we call him stuff like that”

“You mean he doesn’t like it when you call him stuff like that”

“If the meeting’s that important, why aren’t you sitting in on it? Isn’t that when you do your…” they wave their hand around vaguely, lip curling up in a sort of a sneer. Like they could talk. “You know”

Cass feels a kind of irritation that he can’t really name flare up in his chest in a harsh spike. Harley’s want is ebbing out again. Like a drum beating in the next room. The want, want, want for justified rage, justified fists. Cass turns the pages of the magazine, getting increasingly annoyed at how white everyones fucking teeth are.

“I don’t know, Harls. He didn’t want me there today,” he grunts, not looking up “And if it’s a-okay with you, all I want is some fucking down time”

“Thought you’d get enough of that flat on your back,” Harley mutters.

Their voice is bitter and low but it carries strong across the room. The retort is clearly a knife they’ve been sharpening for a while now, waiting for the right moment to throw it.

It lands. Sticks. Slices down through the tension in the room like the swing of an axe.

Cass fixes his full attention on Harley’s face. It’s bold of them to go there. They usually hate talking about sex. Even implying it. They find it embarrassing, he thinks. Maybe revolting. So it’s bold of them to go there. More than bold. It’s a goddamn sledgehammer against a metal sheet, ringing out so loud you can feel the sound waves shaking at your bones through your skin.

Cass tilts his head to one side, giving Harley a once over with his eyes. He licks his lips. Easy smile.

“He prefers me up against the wall actually,” he says, letting the cruel streak in him delight at the silent fury reddening Harley’s face. He grins as they shrink a little bit in embarrassment. Fuck them. They fucking started it. They can cope with a little shame.

“You’re disgusting,” Harley mutters. Cass is expecting that to be the end of it so he smiles sweetly, turning back to the open magazine on his pillow. Maybe it’s the lack of eye contact that gives Harley the balls to say it. “Fucking whore”

Cass closes his eyes against it. The words don’t bother him anymore. He can’t remember if they ever really did. But the intent of it vibrates through his skull. Waves against a cave wall. Drum beat from another room. Sledgehammer against a metal sheet.

The want, want, want of a fight. 

Fucking fine.

He flips the magazine shut, turns on that dangerous grin.

“Have I done something to upset you, Harls? You seem like you’re in an even cuntier mood than usual”

Harley doesn’t move from where they sit on the bed but their head snaps up, eyes on fire.

It’s less like baiting and more like harnessing a collar.

“Watch yourself”

Cass sits himself up on the bed, letting his face crumples in mock-concern.

“No, for real. I’m worried about you. What’s going on? Did someone shove a stick up your ass?” he leans forward, looking around in a pantomime of secrecy and worry “Do you need a hand getting it out?”

Cass barely has to duck as the book flies past his head and hits the wall behind him, laughter ripping out his chest in a jittering cackle.

“We’ve gotta work on your aim, Harls,” he says as he slips down from the bunk, bare feet silent on the wooden floor “You missed me by a mile”

“Wasn’t trying to hit you,” Harley snarls through their teeth “Everyone knows what happens to you if you get the golden boy hurt”

Cass blinks, stunned a little at the words before scoffing a laugh.

“Is that what all this is about? Collette?” Cass says, incredulous. Harley doesn’t nod, but the steady eye contact they hold is a strong enough affirmative. Cass does laugh, then, “You don’t even like her!”

“I started liking her a lot more after I saw her in Penance”

Another wave. Enough to have Cass’ pulse skip in its rhythm. 

Not just the want of a fight. But the want to hit. To hurt.

He shrugs like it doesn’t bother him.

“I wouldn’t know about that”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Golden boy never goes to the den. You don’t have to see what happens to the people you snitch to Christopher about”

“Col’s the one that hit me. She knows how he feels about in-fighting”

“Yeah but if you had’ve hit her, you still wouldn’t be the one in Penance, would you?”

Cassius sets his jaw, pulling in a long deep breath to calm the slamming of his heart, ease the tide as much as he can. Drum beat in another room. Sledgehammer on a metal sheet.

Harley takes a step forward, hands flexing like they’re not sure if they want to hit or scratch.

“See I’ve started thinking and it must be really nice being the favourite. You eat his fancy meals, sleep in his fancy bed. You’re excused from classes and rounds whenever the hell you want. You get to talk back and lash out and he doesn’t ask for Penance”

Cass folds his hands into tight fists at his sides. He’s not going to hit them. He’s not. That’s exactly what they’re fishing for. Exactly what they’re anticipating.

“Even when he does decide to punish you, it’s not you that gets it, is it? They just pull out your little proxy dog and shove him in the den instead”

Waves. Drums. Sledgehammer.

He can’t even feel the line anymore between Harley’s want and his own. 

All he knows is the want he has is to fucking gut them.

“Hey tell me, Cassius, I’ve always wondered,” says Harley, Cass’ silence fueling them as they take a dangerous step forward “Does Henri feel it when they fuck you as well?”

Cass fixes his entire attention on Harley’s face.

He’s not going to hit them. That’s exactly what they’re anticipating. 

“Hᴇʏ, Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ. Sᴛᴏᴘ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ”

And they do.

People don’t start choking straight away when they stop breathing. For the first ten seconds or there’s nothing but a calm stillness over their body as their chest stops rising, and their mouth snaps gently closed. 

Harley’s eyes steel, meeting Cassius’ gaze as the first moments of discomfort settle around their throat like a vice. He wonders for a second, as he always does with Harley, if they know what’s about to happen. Cass sure doesn’t.

“Did you see this coming, Harls?” Cass says calmly “Because if you like being choked, all you had to do was ask. I know a guy”

Harley, to their credit, doesn’t flinch away or duck their eyes as Cass steps in close. 

“You want a fancy bed? Fancy food? You want the creature comforts, you gotta get used to being a little uncomfortable first,” he says. There’s a moment, a second, where fear flitters over Harley’s face. Whatever they were anticipating, it’s not this, “I know you’re good at being a well behaved little puppy but what tricks do you know?”

Cass smiles, tilting his chin up, “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ sɪᴛ”

They fold to the ground, unhesitating, eyes flicking up in fury as soon as they register what’s happening.  Cass smiles. It feels good to do it like this. Not to just grab at something the other already wants and turn the volume up but to find something small and twist and twist until they move like his own little puppet.

“Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ sʜᴀᴋᴇ”

They hold out their hand on impulse, and as Cassius gives it a patronising little shake, they growl through their teeth. The act eats the remainder of their oxygen and their eyes bulge as they realise their mistake. Cass laughs,

“Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ”

They open their mouth but–

“Oh wait. You can’t, can you?” he says, smiling sweetly with a tilt of his head as they gape, emptily. Breathlessly “Tell me, do you know what’s gonna happen next? Or do you need oxygen for that psychic bullshit to work?”

Harley’s lips move wordlessly, silently as they try to beg for air that won’t come. Their heart is beating so hard that Cass can see it pulsing at their jugular. He reaches out a soft hand, nearly tracing his fingers along it.

There’s a part of Cass that almost gets why Christopher loves this shit so much. It’s feels so fucking good to make someone hurt for once. Harley’s chest convulses for air they can’t give it.

"Sᴍɪʟᴇ ʜᴀʀʟᴇʏ,” he cackles, ruffling their hair. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? To have all the attention on you? To be the favourite?”

Harley’s mouth stretches into a mockery of a grin but their eyes stay wide and panicked, watering as they look around the room wildly for something to help them. Cass bends low, titling Harley’s head up by the chin until their eyes are fixed on his. The spasms increase. Once a second. Twice a second. 

“And keep squirming,” Cass murmurs, not a hint of humour left in his voice as Harley’s body starts to shake all over “Trust me. He likes it when people squirm”

Harley’s body collapses to a heap on the ground as he says it, and he lets go as they fall, body limp and empty as the lack of consciousness frees them from mangled wants that weren’t there’s to begin with. They start breathing again. They stop smiling. 

Cass watches their chest slowly expand on survival automation. He watches as colour slowly creeps back to their lips in deep sighs.

The rage drops from him like a cloak to the floor. He just feels tired now. Almost empty. Like he always does after using the want like that. The sides of his vision feel blurry and crackled, like a television that isn’t wired right.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He shouldn’t have fucking done that. He should have walked away.

A tilting pulse of nausea hits him, and his head is filled with static and pressure as he sits on Harley’s bed, their heaving, folded body at his feet.

He places a hand on Harley’s back, almost apologetic for the violation of it as he does so, but desperate for it too. The static in his head pushes outward, and goes on and on and on.

“Bʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ʜᴀʀʟᴇʏ,” he whispers, even though it doesn’t matter. Even though they already are “Bʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ʜᴀʀʟᴇʏ, ʙʀᴇathe. Bʀeathe, breathe, breathe”

[hyperionswrath--archived]

@onepartbrave

In hindsight, none of his plans thus far worked out the way he predicted. Therefore, why he expected his latest of chasing someone far more sober than himself to work, Squall wasn’t sure. A plethora of obstacles was in the way, the first being his own unbalanced state, but he figured he’d manage. He always managed. From being thrown in the deep end of his very first SeeD mission, to being promoted unorthodoxly to commander not even weeks later, to fearing he’d fight his only steadfast link to the death because of some horrendous events that went down—not now, not this—stop.

Ceasing everything, Squall took a second to regulate his breathing rate that had been creeping back up. Albeit, it was wasted effort when shock forced a startled gasp from him not two seconds later when he was unceremoniously jerked to the side. No, back and around, by the hips. At least it wasn’t a question of his lacklustre equilibrium this time—it was Seifer’s fault; he was the only one close enough to destabilise him. About to cause a fuss and demand release, any heat he sent forth into a withering glare was doused at a dawning realisation. He was perched unabashedly on Seifer’s lap and, with how he was being gripped, the blond had no intent on freeing him soon.  

Confusion floored him, smothering any outrage, both on Seifer’s behalf and at Seifer for interfering, and Squall blinked dumbly after the reason registered to his hectic mind. He… told him to go? Why? Thought the whole reason for being here was that guy and his friends… Simmering down, he wanted to adjust the uncomfortable way he had to twist his neck to view the Glaive properly but was at a loss with the warning he saw flashing in those green, green eyes. When he leaned forward, it took all his will to not lean back. Frowning for the countless time that night, he contemplated decking the insolent blond since he was in perfect range to and still feeling ‘feisty—whatever it was called—but all comparative thoughts froze at an almost tender brush of digits along his jawline. …W-wha?

Essentially flustered, Squall merely nodded in acknowledgment; he wouldn’t pursue the stranger. In fact, something closer to home grabbed his undivided attention. Natural heat rose to his cheeks again, he felt it over his increasing body temperature due to still wearing the overcoat, and he couldn’t… look away. Even when a new song was on, the performer’s enchanting vocals floating around in the background; he, allegedly, was transfixed on something else fascinating. This… this is bad.

Subconscious movement titled his head to lean more into the ghost-like touch and the desire to nudge the hand to continue frightened him. Because he was on Seifer’s lap in an establishment that bulldozed all of his comfort zones and out of his mind on alcohol. So many warning factors protested him staying, but the simple fact he felt fine, he felt right, kept him stationary. He didn’t understand any of it, except the fact he felt incomprehensibly safe. Despite their history and what he knew of the man’s volatile behaviour… the feeling refused to budge. He refused to budge.

Exhaling in a low, controlled manner, he felt the sporadic anxiety within calm slightly. Finally adjusting his position so his neck muscles stopped straining, he unintentionally wiggled until he was sitting sideways on the blond’s thighs, legs hanging off the side of him and the chair. He only broke his (possibly awkward) staring to ensure he didn’t fall during his manoeuvring and simultaneously dislodged the man’s touch. Not for long—his own hand shot out to claim the one that had been disrupted. Pulling it to rest on his thighs, his gaze lowered to inspect his motions as he examined a well-worn limb, callouses and all. One hand held it steady while his other explored the open palm, thumb brushing over every detail he could find.  

“…S’what d’you wanna do?” he asked pleasantly, all traces of the former jealousy gone and, in its place,, simple contentment. “Listen to the music more or…?” he trailed off, flicking an almost coy sidelong glimpse to the man. He waited with unrivalled patience for the reply, because truthfully, he almost didn’t want the night to end.

Amused chuckling rumbling in his broad chest when a startled gasp fled his newly declared prey's throat, hands readjusted their grip to ensure the enforced position on his lap would not cause any unfortunate shifting to the side and land the brunet on the floor. At this point, one had to assume the worst, with Squall having proven that he wriggled around way too much for his own good when under the influence. Thankfully, his act of brashness seemed to have frozen up the other enough to stop him from any flailing about, if only for now.

Would he have come here if it hadn't been for Squall's interference in the pub before? Maybe. Although, part of him had planned to see the stumbling brunet back to his hotel himself, convinced he'd otherwise end up in a ditch and just sleep his drunken state off there. But no matter, they were here and Seifer was far from complaining, having the reassuring, albeit light, weight back close to him. Closer than ever before even. Appeased by a nod, attention went back to his own fingers that had made their way all on their own up to the man's fair face, now again riddled with a most enticing tint of red. He had not expected the porcelain skin to feel so soft? Moreover, he thought he could feel just the slightest tilt of the other's head, leaning into the touch. He should stop this now.

Brow furrowing, he instead watched as fingers spread, partly gracing the side of a lily-white neck, thumb brushing briefly over the chin. There had been a time when his hand would have closed over the exposed throat, fingers tightening to disrupt any breathing if only to make a statement and not necessarily to kill. Right now, however, nothing was further from his mind. Nonetheless seemed the pulse underneath soft skin mesmerizing, though for entirely different reasons. And even though there was no small amount of alcohol rushing through his veins as well, he knew he was more or less in full control over his actions. At least enough to know he should end this now before it went too far.

It couldn't be good that the close proximity to Leonhart made him this soft, right? All his life he had pulled up walls not so different from the brunet's; fire instead of ice, rage instead of indifference, but walls all the same. Why didn't they matter any longer in the man's presence? They felt replaced by something else entirely, a careful daring he usually did not even think of displaying when courting someone. Was he courting the man?

Humming lowly when Squall started moving and expecting him to slip from his lap and back into his seat any moment now, he was once more surprised when he found that all the other did was adjust himself to sit more comfortably, breaking away from his exploring touches in the process. "You gonna behave now?", he murmured, hinting at the constant urge to dart off to wherever like a little child in the supermarket. His arm snaked around the brunet's hips to steady him now, holding him safely which brought another frown onto his face.

Most of his life he had wanted to keep his rival safe, although he would never admit to it. His harsh hand against the boy then only means to harden him for the world outside, for he knew how ugly it could be. Him teaching the younger one how to wield a gunblade for he wanted him to be able to defend himself, especially when faced with foes that did not care if they fought dirty. Him following the just promoted SeeD to when being sent to the abducting mission... The turnings of his mind had always been his own in this regard and the more he kept this part to himself, the better. It was the kind of vulnerability he'd always hated in himself, and which ultimately offered a gateway to a certain sorceresses power to slip in and get a hold on his mind.

Disrupted from dark thoughts worming their way in again, he looked down as he felt a demanding grasp on his hand, it being held by slender fingers doing the exploring now. Was this what he wanted to do? Content tonation to the once indifferent voice combined with careful touches made him shiver briefly, his head leaning down so his forehead could rest against the brunet's shoulder, a deep breath fleeing from his lips. What was he doing to him? Letting his former rival get so close, so under his skin was dangerous and he knew it. Yet he could not lie to himself, having felt this want inside of him for most of his life. Sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, often combined with a dark coiling inside of him that dared rear it's head right this moment as well. Eyes slowly closing, his hand turned, trying to entangle fingers with each other. He wasn't the type to hold hands. He didn't do guilt, or at least not well. He was no fucking softy who gently approached and courted someone. He saw what he wanted and he took it. And yet here he was, feeling helpless in a completely different way than he ever had before.

His head lifting again, tilting slightly so emerald eyes could find pale blues, he tried to read them. What exactly was the guy suggesting now? And why was his breath coming so short it made his chest ache? Swallowing hard, his other hand ghosted over the other's side, meandering up and finally finding silky brown strands of hair, fingers tangling. "...or?", he heard himself echo, eyes still searching, observing light blue depths. He wasn't hearing any damn music, the only thing he seemed able to pick up on was the rushing in his ears, almost like it did when anticipating a fight for life and death. "What do you want?", another thing he never really cared to ask in honest, only in his usual provoking manner. But all his arrogance and anger failed him in the presence of this man right now. And truly, as much as he might be able to read the micro-reactions Squall was sending out to the world, he would have given Hyperion to know what was going on in this stubborn head right this moment.

[azure7539arts]

In regards to chapter 88-89

Because I have seen a few posts around with opinions relating to the revelation that happens in these two chapters, specifically about Wei WuXian’s actions and Wen Ning’s handling of the situation, I’m going to chip in a bit as well.

So for anyone who has NOT caught up with the latest chapters of MDZS and does NOT want SPOILERS, please do NOT read what’s under the cut.

Warning: very long post that’s a combination of analysis and feels. Obviously, everything you’re about to read are my interpretations and personal perception of the characters, so do take it with a grain of salt.

Right off the bat, I just want to state clearly that Wei WuXian has and will never consider himself a hero. His actions have always been more about instincts than actual needs to prove himself; heroism is not the principle on which he operates himself because he has never been conscious of this during the acts themselves. If anything, what he is conscious about are his mistakes and shortcomings, which can be clearly seen via the fact that he slaps himself upon realizing that it was Jin Ling whom he just unknowingly insulted, or the fact that he cringes at the sight of his past self from before his death in Nie MingJue’s memory (and many more, but we are not here to discuss this).

With that in mind, let’s move on to why Wei WuXian never told Jiang Cheng about the golden core business.

Firstly, doing things, especially what will (in retrospect) be considered favors, without never telling anyone about it is basically how the Jiang Clan operates, and Wei WuXian, having nothing other than a couple of fuzzy memories of his birth parents, will of course be influenced by this teaching, too, seeing as he more or less grew up with it.

We can see evidences of this problematic behavior in almost every member of the main branch of this family. For example, Yu ZiYuan (who always outwardly expressed her contempt and displeasure toward Wei WuXian without restraints) was harsh on Wei WuXian, yes, but in the end, even during that seemingly brutal whipping that she gave him as ‘punishment’ for his ‘misdemeanor’ toward Wen Chao, she obviously held back to make sure he wasn’t as hurt as she would later claim him to be even though she could’ve gone all out. This doesn’t negate the fact that she had a penchant for verbal abuse, but in that moment, she decided—without telling anyone, fooling even her own son and the adopted one she was whipping—to not make Wei WuXian suffer. There are many reasons as to why she made this decision, but we won’t be mentioning that here.

As for Jiang FengMian: I will only go over this detail briefly because it only exists in the donghua, but he does keep the brooch his wife discarded, most likely unbeknownst to her, with the desire to once again give it to her when they were on better speaking terms, which never happened.

Jiang YanLi herself was no different. When her father and Wei WuXian came back from GuSu Lan Sect, bringing the news of her broken engagement, she never told anyone a word about her feelings for Jin ZiXuan, probably because she didn’t want Jiang FengMian and her brothers to feel bad about this, until a sudden altercation much, much later on revealed this truth, much to Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng’s complete bewilderment because they had never suspected this.

And finally, Jiang Cheng himself is the same. Jiang Cheng is a complicated character, partly due to complicated relationship (mainly to Wei WuXian), and partly because he is featured prominently in the series, and therefore we know more about him and have more insights into his character. Without spoiling anyone who hasn’t known/already been spoiled/read through the novel before, I won’t be saying what it is, specifically, that he has done to demonstrate the Jiang’s characteristic streak of doing good/well-meaning things for other people without telling them, but please know that he did. He does so with immense consequences, and he does so without telling anyone, particularly Wei WuXian.

Going back to Wei WuXian, with all these examples from the people who brought him up from the age of 9, the very same people whom he interacted the most with for most of his teenager years, of course their behaviors and their conducts would affect him, too. Especially when he feels indebted to them for picking him up from the streets and giving him another home. You may say that all the mentions above may be solitary events, but people do not just decide to do things in a certain way one day, people gradually develop a way of behaving by repeating the same thing over and over—this is why the whole Jiang family exhibits these traits, and not just in certain individuals. And this, probably, plays a part in shaping the way Wei WuXian acts and why he didn’t tell Jiang Cheng about giving his foster brother his golden core either. This is a family of doers, for various reasons, and they do more than they talk, and even when they do talk, they don’t really communicate (e.g., Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan constant fighting instead of talking things through, or Jiang Cheng’s “tough-love” acts toward Jin Ling later on).

Wei WuXian has days to deliberate, though, but he still chose not to tell Jiang Cheng, not because he thought that Jiang Cheng was weak or that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, but most likely because he knew his brother too well, and he knew Jiang Cheng would reject this without considering the option. There are many reasons as to why Jiang Cheng would reject (one of them I won’t be saying here because of spoilers), although most of them would boil down to pride and his inferiority complex. Jiang Cheng would most probably think that Wei WuXian was trying to play hero again (which, again, as we have established, has and will never be in Wei WuXian’s intention or agenda), that Wei WuXian was pitying him, and he wouldn’t have accepted the golden core transfer.

But this, in itself, has its problems and complications, too. Let’s pan this what-if situation out for a bit here: had Wei WuXian had told Jiang Cheng about this option, he would’ve given Jiang Cheng his choice in the matter (which is important because a person’s choice is important), but because there was no way Jiang Cheng, being the person that he was and with the unstable state of mind he had been in at the time, would’ve accepted this from Wei WuXian, he would’ve rejected the option. Would this mean they wouldn’t have any regrets? No. Because Wei WuXian loved (still does) his brother, and combined with the promise he had had with Madam Yu about protecting Jiang Cheng (to death, by the way), he wouldn’t have been okay with watching Jiang Cheng suffer and wither away. 

Remember, at this point, Jiang Cheng was already clearly suicidal. In the novel, and even in the donghua, this isn’t simply lightly implied, the way he behaved and the things he said (asking about why Wei WuXian had bothered saving him instead of just letting him die off because he didn’t want to witness the Wens overrun the cultivation world, and saying that he’d die and come back to haunt the Wens) stated this without leaving any remaining shadow of doubt. As for Jiang Cheng, had he been told, would’ve rejected Wei WuXian’s plan (as we just talked about), but would he have not thought about this every single day for the rest of his remaining days (however long he would’ve managed to live without trying to do something to get himself killed, that is)? Jiang Cheng has an inferiority complex (through no fault of his own, of course), and he wouldn’t have been able to live with seeing Wei WuXian still out there and entirely capable and fighting off the Wens whilst he himself was, more or less, dead weight. The idea that he could’ve restored his golden core at the expense of someone else would’ve never let him go, exactly because of how possibly attainable and absolutely horrifying it was.

And did Wei WuXian in that moment really had a choice? This was Jiang Cheng’s actual life on the line, as well as his own, and Jiang Cheng was his brother—the one he loved, the one he played with, the one who grew up with him and protected him and shared meals with him. The one he promised to protect to the bitter end. It had always been Jiang Cheng’s dream to be the Sect Leader that his father approved of, and he would never be able to become leader and realize his full potential without a golden core. So, Wei WuXian was saddled with a choice: he had to choose between a suicidal Jiang Cheng (which, believe me, is a very hard thing to watch anyone close to you go through) who would very likely try to get himself killed doing something reckless, and a Jiang Cheng who would regain his confidence and take up the mantle of sect leader to continue on the Jiang Clan legacy and rebuild their decimated sect from the group up—like what his parents would’ve wanted, like what Jiang Cheng himself would’ve done had he still had his golden core.

You have to understand that Wei WuXian himself, in that moment, must have been scared, too, scared and desperate, for a multitude of reasons—the Wens finding them and their helplessness in the face of all that power, the operation not working out, him not being able to protect Jiang Cheng and Jiang YanLi anymore. But what must have been the height of his fear (for a teenaged boy who had lost his entire family twice) was losing Jiang Cheng—and he had been losing Jiang Cheng right in front of his eyes because Jiang Cheng—Wei WuXian’s proud and resilient and capable brother—had given up on life. (And let me tell you, it is a very frightening thing that will haunt you for a long time).

Jiang Cheng, a child growing up in the main branch of a prominent, cultivating clan, believed his self-worth to lie in the existence of his golden core—in his continued capacity to keep on being a cultivator. He didn’t know a life outside of that, still doesn’t, and he couldn’t imagine a life in which he couldn’t cultivate anymore. He was devastated. His parents, his entire sect except for his sister, died horrible deaths, and his family home was razed to the ground. Without the means to take revenge, the rage he felt would’ve been nothing but an impotent one, and this was why, the second Wei WuXian told him there was a way, the spark of life returned to his eyes. Because only with the possibility of being able to cultivate again did he actually give himself a fighting chance.

And Wei WuXian saw this because, despite all appearances, he was/is an observant individual.

Consider these passages taken from chapter 60, translated by Exiled Rebels Scanlations, bolded parts by me:

[Wei WuXian] closed the door and pulled out the needle in Jiang Cheng’s head. [Jiang Cheng] opened his eyes only after a long time had passed.

He did wake up, but he didn’t move at all. He was so uninterested that he didn’t even turn around or ask ‘where is this’. He didn’t drink any water, he didn’t eat any food. It seemed that all he sought for was death.

Wei WuXian, “Do you really want to die?”

Jiang Cheng, “I can’t seek revenge even when I’m alive. Why shouldn’t I die? Maybe I’ll be able to turn into a ferocious ghost.”

And:

Jiang Cheng, “If I can’t seek revenge no matter if I’m dead or alive, then what’s the difference between the two?”

After he said this, he wouldn’t speak again no matter what.

Wei WuXian sat by the bed. He looked at him for a while. Slapping his knees, he stood up and began to busy himself.

This, in all honesty, must have been when Wei WuXian finalized his decision. And so he set about to busy himself and try to cook Jiang Cheng a meal, probably trying to think up a believable enough story for his brother in the meantime as well. Maybe he had considered telling Jiang Cheng, maybe he hadn’t. But the second he saw this: “The sentence was only a few words long. However, it immediately lit up the lifeless eyes of Jiang Cheng,” (chapter 60) he had already made up his mind.

As for why he refuses to tell Jiang Cheng later on, it’s a combination of, once again, knowing his brother well, of absorbing the Jiang behavior (something which Jiang Cheng will exhibit later on himself), and of how, in the end, they were two prideful people themselves. Jiang Cheng would’ve been devastated and would’ve felt guilty (as he is now) had this revelation came out after all was said and done, and Wei WuXian hadn’t done this for Jiang Cheng to feel grateful either. He just hadn’t wanted his brother to go kill himself. He hadn’t wanted his brother to live in guilt, and he hadn’t wanted to have received pity from Jiang Cheng either (much like how Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have and had never wanted Wei WuXian to pity him).

We will have our own opinions on this, on Wei WuXian’s choices and whether they were right or not, but in the end, he had only wanted one thing out of this: he had wanted Jiang Cheng, his brother, to live. Actually live and thrive, instead of just dragging a withering existence.

Now, moving on to the second matter in this too long essay, Wen Ning’s handling of the revelation and why he was doing it at all.

Firstly, we need to remember three things: that Wen Ning still feels guilty toward Jiang Cheng for all the wrong things he did; that Wen Ning is very protective of Wei WuXian; and that by nature, Wen Ning is a soft, shy, polite person with a good heart (as demonstrated by him going out of his way to help Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng back when Lotus Pier had just been destroyed). So this revelation doesn’t stem from a want and/or need to humiliate Jiang Cheng, nor does it have any ill-willed intention at all other than for Jiang Cheng to please just stop going after Wei WuXian for a second.

From the moment Wen Ning woke up from his 13 years of imprisonment, all he heard was bad news. Very bad news. In all of those bad news, aside from the fact that his entire family died, was the one fact that Jiang Cheng had personally led the siege up Burial Mounds himself to eradicate evil, Wei WuXian and those fifty Wens people who had been clearly old and feeble last time Jiang Cheng had checked, and had caused Wei WuXian’s death. (This, Wei WuXian denied, saying that his demonic cultivation was what had done him in in the end, but because Wei WuXian is a liar, we don’t know if Wen Ning actually believed this or not).

Eventually, there was the second Burial Mound siege, also led by Jiang Cheng, also organized by people who wanted Wei WuXian dead. Wen Ning couldn’t have possibly been okay with this, with the way they were treating Wei WuXian, considering that just one nameless junior disciple bad-mouthing Wei WuXian alone was already enough to set him off. But, this aside, Wen Ning had had a tough time, too, what with the blood corpses of his brutally slain family coming back up from the death to help the very same people who had killed them years ago, only to crumple back to dust before his eyes.

This was a lot of stress, and Jiang Cheng has never stopped trying to make sure Wei WuXian sees the disdain, anger, and contempt Jiang Cheng has for him. And because this is Jiang Cheng, he never holds back his words, especially when he has a multitude of complicated emotions when it comes to Wei WuXian, which have been festering for nearly two decades.

(Excerpts, all are what Jiang Cheng says to Wei WuXian during what leads up to their eventual fight taken from chapter 87 and 88, translated by Exiled Rebels Scanlations, and bolded parts by me:)

“Wei WuXian, you really don’t take yourself as an outsider, do you? You come and leave whenever you want. You take with you whomever you want. Do you perhaps still remember whose sect this is? Who’s the owner?”

“If you’re leaving, please go as far as possible. Don’t let me see or hear you fooling around in Lotus Pier again.”

“You really should kneel for them properly, having dirtied their eyes and contaminated their peace.”

“Burn some incense? Wei WuXian, are you really that dense? It’s been so long since you were kicked out of our sect, and here you are taking unwelcome people with you to burn incense for my parents?”

“Look how forgetful you are. What does unwelcome people mean? Then let me remind you. It was because you played the hero and saved Second Young Master Lan, who’s standing beside you right now, that the entire Lotus Pier and my parents went down with you. And that wasn’t enough. With the first time, soon comes the second. You even had to save Wen-dogs and drag my sister down with you. What a person you are! What’s more, you’re even so generous as to take the two to Lotus Pier. The Wen-dog’s strolling in front of my sect’s gates; Second Young Master Lan came here to burn incense. You’re here on purpose to remind me, to remind them.” He continued, “Wei WuXian, who do you think you are? Who gave you the face to take whomever you want into our sect’s ancestral hall?”

“Who’s the one insulting my parents in front of their spirits?! Could you two please understand whose sect you’re in? I don’t care if you act so shamelessly outside, but don’t you dare fool around inside our ancestral hall, before my parents’ spirits! After all, they were the ones who brought you up—even I feel ashamed for you!”

“Mess around outside however you want, whether under a tree or on a boat, hugging or otherwise! Get out of my sect, get out of anywhere my eyes can see!”

And because Jiang Cheng has always had a temper, and this, again, has been festering for years, he keeps trying to chase after Wei WuXian even after the Wei WuXian in question has coughed up blood and had a nosebleed and collapsed.

Wen Ning has probably been watching the entire thing (hence why he manages to jump out and uses himself to block that very damaging whip that Jiang Cheng didn’t manage to pull back in time), and for a person who is very protective of Wei WuXian, who is hurt right then, Wen Ning, with his own emotional stress and psychological trauma, snaps.

Jiang Cheng still blames Wei WuXian for everything, and Wen Ning cannot bear that. Wei WuXian, after all, is the first person who acknowledge him and complimented him, the only person who was willing to extend a hand to help his sister and his entire family, and the one who ended up paying for that choice with his life.

Wen Ning doesn’t fight Jiang Cheng because he still feels guilty, but at the very least, he can’t just stand there and let Jiang Cheng keep chasing Wei WuXian out and away, spewing such hurtful words in the meantime as well. Wei WuXian might act carefree, but Wen Ning knows that these things bothered Wei WuXian—he was there to see Wei WuXian break apart for himself, after all.

And Wen Ning does what he has always done: he defends Wei WuXian.

Wei WuXian, Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning, are their actions and reactions right? I don’t know. I can’t tell, not when the situation is multifaceted and very complicated, especially when you try to look at the big picture and analyze what is going on at specific points in story and what may be driving these character forward as they progress through the story.

[sweetmoxiety]

Behind This Mask Is a Desperate Heart (Part Four)

Hospital AU

AU Summary: A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan.

Pairings: Moxiety and Logince.

Word Count: 1830

Warnings: Swearing, death, and speaking about it (not main character death).

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |  Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

     “Logan... Lo-”

    “What Roman!” Logan snapped, whipping his head Roman’s way. Sweat dripped down his brow as he kept pressing the heel of his interlocked fingers down.

    “He’s been down forty-three minutes,” Roman said softly, fingers latching onto Logan’s arm.

    To his dismay, Logan roughly shook off his grasp. Nothing was working; the defibrillator atop the crash cart had done nothing to restart the child’s choked heart.

    Training his jaded eyes back onto the monitor, Logan watched on as the desperate pressing of his hands forged fleeting peaks. Ceasing again, Logan rattled his fist, his nails digging gratingly into his sweaty palm. And the crests were rapidly replaced with the shrill of the flatline buzz.

    ‘Fuck,’ he cursed under his breath, disregarding the throbbing ache in his arms and the sticky feeling of sweat hugging his skin as he began compressions again. The line of nurses waiting to take over had dwindled. And instead, tired eyes watched Logan’s adamant refusal.  

    “Logan,” Roman hesitated to reach out a second time, but the larger the crowd of patients that framed them, the faster he knew he needed to bring it to an end, “Lo, you need to stop.”

    “People have come back after having been down for longer,” Logan countered, rhythm faltering and voice strained.

    “Lo.., he’s been deprived of oxygen for too long.”

    Logan knew Roman was right. The longer the brain was deprived of oxygen, the worse the damage would be. Logically, he should stop. He should stop. What he was doing defied logic. But reason, faulty or not, told him that there was a chance; he’d seen it happen before. So, no, he can’t stop from pressing the heel of his palm down. He-

    “Stop, Logan,” Roman firmly grabbed Logan’s sweat-slicked arm, dragging him off the patient and onto the tile floor.

    “No-,” Logan spat coldly, trying to tug his arm free from the attending pulling him away, but that didn’t halt Roman from tugging him further as the monitor shrieked out a dying cry. It screeched at him, wailed at him, and squawked at him. And he wilted. He wilted hearing the shattering whine of the flatline. And he stopped fighting. He slumped, watching the nurses’ unplug the heart monitor; the call of the monitor vanishing like ships crossing the Bermuda triangle. Absent was the rise and fall of the child’s chest, and absent was the reassuring beep. Instead, reassurance was replaced by machine wheels being dragged away along scratched floors.

    Teal lips and muted, cold skin glaring at him from the corner of his eye sunk their teeth sharply into his memory. But what had, had tears springing into the corners of his eyes was the withered flower visage, the sagged shoulders, and the child’s arms limp at his sides. It was seeing them shelter the child in a flimsy, white sheet that caused Logan to truly depress.

    “F-Fuck off, Ro,” Logan shook, finally yanking his arm free. Stumbling, he turned, wiping away the tears before anyone could see them leave wet trails in their wake.

    “Logan-”

    Logan cleared his throat, shifting, and abruptly cutting off Roman.

    “The beta-blockers should have worked,” He, then, said all too controlled, fists clenched and watching on stiffly like a switch had been flipped. The Propranolol should have worked. Why hadn’t it worked?

    “I know, Lo,” Roman frowned with unease, guiding them both down the achromatic hallway. He’d never observed Logan as anything other than the stoic, calculating logicistian he so frequently gloated on being... “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, right?” Roman watched the other scrunch up his nose as if he’d been asked to try escargot.

    “The facts would seem to suggest otherwise,” Logan scoffed under his breath.

    “I know you know that sometimes people can’t be saved,” Roman opted to use logic against him as he ushered him through the mess room’s ajar door.  

    “I’m aware.”

    “Then you’d know it wasn’t your fault. Sometimes we just lose patients,” Roman said, shutting the door and steering Logan’s stiff frame to sit on the mattress beside him.

    “Yes, well-” Logan muttered, peeling away from the look Roman offered children to comfort them through a particularly painful injection, “I haven’t.”

    “Never?”

    “That is what I said.”

    When Roman fell silent, Logan glanced back at Roman to see his mouth curled downward like a bad omen. He was about to speak up when Roman suddenly interjected, “Do you know why I went into pediatrics?”

    “You’re too exuberant and animated for any other field,” Logan joked jadedly, scooting back further onto the bed, the mattress faintly creaking underneath him as he did so.

    “No- well, it does help with dealing with children, but no, that's not the reason,” Roman shook his head, a choked laugh caught in the back of his throat.

    “Why then?”

    He’d piqued Logan’s interest, but Roman had fallen silent a second time - two times too many. For a man that was so boisterous and noisy at every possible opportunity, him sitting there with his hands resting limply in his lap was unnerving. It was far from the childlike energy he typically exuded.

    “...Roman?”

    “In my third year of med school.., I was assigned a pediatric oncology rotation-”

    “I do remember you mentioning that quite a few times. It would appear it had an impact on you.”

    “Yes...,” He wasn’t past the point of return, but in a moment of trust he proceeded, “but I’ve never told you about Layla.”

    “Layla?”

    “She was the bravest princess,” Roman smiled ruefully, head lolling forward slightly, “She adored my marvelous story telling; her favorite tale was the battle of the dragon witch and the strong, fearless princess!”

    Pausing to collect himself as history painfully nudged its way into the present, Roman continued, “Oh, Lo, if only you could have seen the dreams reflecting in her eyes and the way she lit up every room with her contagious smiles.”

     “More contagious than dear Patton’s!” Roman’s fragile smile straddled the edge of sinking again as his fingertips swiped away new tears over old memories.

    “What happened to Layla, Roman?”

    “She had acute myelogenous leukemia...,” he let out a shaky sigh as he reached into the past to tug those memories looser. Memories of Layla were fragile treasures, priceless glimpses of hope. Memories of her enacting a battle with Roman and striking him with a foam sword before she was too sick to get out of bed weren’t allowed to simply fade away. Those memories once left his heart mangled and weeping. But memories of Layla going wide-eyed as Roman spoke frivolously of the adventures of Princess Fiona and of Layla giggling wildly as Roman’s attending poked fun at him sprung forward with dizzying speed; short, happy time capsules of history nestled in Roman’s mind.

    “She was nine, Lo, and I blamed myself. I was the one that encouraged the transplant.”

    “But you know what?” Roman continued, drying his downcast eyes with his white sleeve, “she helped me; her story shaped mine.”

     When Logan didn’t say anything, Roman resumed, his voice freckled with an incurable ache, “There was a time when I tried to shake the memories because it hurt. It pained me too much, but it was Layla that made me fight for pediatrics.”

    And a silence fell over them.

    “I- I.. I don’t know what to say.”

    “Lo, what I’m trying to tell you is that we can’t save everybody no matter how hard we try, and I know you won’t admit how much it’s eating at you and how much it’ll eat at you because ‘it defies logic’, but I want you to get it into your brainiac head of yours that you’re not alone.”

    Glancing over at Roman, Logan saw the fences torn down by the man himself, “I- Thank you, Roman.”

-------

    “Ye- yes, Patton,” Logan nodded quickly,  interrupting Patton’s distressed rambling, and eyeing the way Roman disappeared back into the E.R., “I am fine. It was just a moment of weakness.”

    “Having emotions isn’t a weakness.”

    “Emotions are messy and unpredictable and precarious.” Emotions were far from the safe clutches of reasoning and deduction; emotions just weren’t Logan’s thing.

    “You shouldn't feel guilty or view having feelings as a weakness,” Patton set the fact free from its fetters, “sure, sometimes, your feelings may not make sense, but it's not your feelings job to make sense. You just... experience them. And you have to do your best to deal with them.”

   Logan stopped, pondered even, only to recycle pages of his own inadequate words and cycle through dozens more he wouldn’t share.

    “Yeah?” Patton cocked his head, picking up again, “understanding them and being in touch with them can give us a better outlook on our issues and our situations. And by understanding how they influence us, we can better evaluate ourselves.” He could tell he was starting to sway Logan, but Logan had long ago cocooned himself in the safety of rationality.

    “Have you heard of Antonio Damasio?” Patton pursued changing Logan’s mind like he chased after a second cookie.  

    Logan shook his head.

    “Well, Antonio Damasio noticed that when his patients lost the part of the brain that controlled emotions, the patients’ decision making abilities became very poor. So, where would we be if we didn’t have the emotional side of our brains?”

    “Huh...” Logan furrowed his brow, eyeing Patton incredulously, “you seem to make a sound argument, Patton.”

    “Hmm....,” after another wordless moment of careful contemplation, Logan spoke up again, “it would seem you are.. right, Patton.” Patton was right? What..? Patton was right...

    “Oh my juice! Really?” His spirit danced with reason to celebrate, lips stretched into a shocked grin.

    “...Yes,” Logan admitted, though he much preferred not having to say it a second time. It was like pulling teeth to hear him verbally acknowledge when he was wrong, but maybe that’s what made it so astonishing to hear.

    “Come ‘ere, hug time!”

    “Fine..” Logan grumbled, letting Patton wrap his arms tightly around him, his own limbs trapped underneath the sweet sunshine’s arms circling his torso.

    “Just know that I’m here for you, Lo,” Patton squeezed, looking up at Logan before letting go. He knew Logan didn’t particularly enjoy long hugs even if they were from him.

    “Thank you, Patton.”

    “Now, how about we go get a nice warm cup of hot cocoa?”

    “That would be satisfactory.”

    “Yay! Let’s g- Oh-” Patton started and then stopped, cogs turning before setting his own universe back in motion, “maybe I should see if Virgil’s up first? You did say you wanted me to keep an eye on him. Last time I checked in on him it was three ish?”

    “That’s right,” Logan said, waving his hand, “go ahead, Patton, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”

“Okay! I’ll be right behind you!” Patton leapt into motion with a pep in his step. He’d done good.

Tag list (ask to be added): @buckydeangirl91 @bunny222

[literallyjustanerd]

Hurts to Try, Hurts to Stop - Chapter 2

Writing angst and fluff to distract from your own steadily building anxiety and sense of impending doom is the biggest mood.  What can I say? Nightangel comforts me.

Kurt’s tail twitches restlessly over the bedroom carpet as he checks his phone for the third time in ten minutes. The screen is clear of any new messages, and he can see his wallpaper in full: his bright grin as Warren kisses his cheek, both of them bathed in the bright neon of the lights in their favourite restaurant. There is a sharp hiss as he sucks a breath in through his teeth, foot tapping in disquiet against the floor. Three text messages now, and two calls, all unanswered. He’d woken up alone, his back cold and missing the press of Warren’s chest against it. He knows what this means, exactly why Warren hasn’t answered.

First, the unassuming ‘good morning xx’ text, then the less optimistic ‘where did you go?’ ending in a final, resigned, ‘please don’t see him today.’He isn’t surprised that Warren has gone back to see his father, to endure another day of abuse, but the lack of surprise doesn’t come with a lack of disappointment. There is even a slight twinge of frustration bubbling deep in the pit of his stomach—the faintest rumble of thunder from an incoming storm.

           He jumps when Scott appears next to him, asking what Kurt’s frown is for. Kurt, as ever, dismisses it with a shake of his head, shoulders shifting with his sigh.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing,” he says. But Scott has had years to get to know Kurt, to come to recognise the slight shake in his voice and the quirk in his lips. Not to mention he has come to feel somewhat protective of Kurt, especially since he knows just the kind of grief Warren is capable of giving. He says nothing, but keeps his gaze through his glasses trained intently on Kurt. The lie withers under this scrutiny, and Kurt cracks easily with it.

“Warren’s gone back to see his dad,” he begins, voice like that of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Their family has this… this big fancy lunch once a week, and Warren always goes, and it always ends in an argument and him feeling miserable.”

“And you’ve told him he shouldn’t be going?”

“Every time! And every time, he ends up back there.”

Scott sighs, leans back against the doorframe, and balls his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. Aside from, you know, what I’ve already told you before.”

Kurt dredges up a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and forces himself to stand, patting Scott’s shoulder as he passes by into the hallway.

“I know, Scott. But he’s my boyfriend. We love each other, and we’re not breaking up.”

There comes an unconvinced shrug from behind him.

“Just saying. Still think you could do better than that hot mess.”

“Scott.” There is a chuckle in Kurt’s voice, letting Scott know he has done his job. The pair together leave the bedroom behind, beginning the day a little late, but much better than if Kurt had been left to start it himself.

           “Sehr gut, jeder! That’s enough for today. You did wonderfully, I hope you had as much fun as I did!”

That is a lie. Kurt, in fact, hopes his students have had much more fun than he has. As the dozen or so young mutants he’d taken charge of that afternoon pass him towards the Danger Room’s exit, he once again is lost to his own thoughts, the unending debate that tugs at his mind.

It has been three months since he had put his name forward to handle a weekly Danger Room, and, overall, he has relished the experience. The students had taken a shine to him straight away, and the chance to share and teach his skills had proven both heartening and cathartic. Today, however, not even the bright, fresh young faces of his newest pupils are enough to dissuade him from obsessing over Warren, who has still not made an appearance despite the day being all but over.

Once the students have drained from the hall completely, he follows them up from the basement levels of the school and begins towards the living room, hoping to find some conversation to smother his sorrows with. He passes by the window, the last dregs of twilight bleeding into night, the trees an inky black tide lapping at the horizon. Another silhouette catches his attention, this one wheeling high above the treeline. Though barely visible in the dim, Kurt knows the arc of those wings too well, in too much excruciating detail to mistake the shape for anything else. Anyone else. Warren is out there, and he is agitated. His movements lack their usual grace and fluidity. He flies with the air of a man being pursued, and this observation drives a deep unease into Kurt’s chest, like a splinter worming its way beneath its skin that he has no hope of removing. For a moment, all frustration about Warren’s disappearance and foolishness vanishes, replaced only by dread of what horrors the man has endured today at the hands of his parents. The thought stays with him for the rest of the evening, along with the question of when Warren will choose to end his self-inflicted purgatory in the skies and return to Kurt’s waiting arms.

The mansion is dark for the most part when Warren touches down on the front steps. As usual, the heavy, ancient oak door creaks maddeningly loud as he opens it, drawing a wince from the man as he slips inside and locks it behind him. There are people still awake, almost certainly, but the mansion is big enough, its halls long and winding enough that he is able to take himself to his room unseen with ease. But as he nears the door to his refuge, his dull footfalls are cut off. There is a soft, yellow light streaming through the crack underneath the door. Shit. He had been hoping to forgo this confrontation, stayed out until the cold turned his wingtips numb to avoid it. And, of course, with the heightened sense of hearing that comes with his boyfriend’s (frankly adorable) pointed blue ears, he has almost definitely already heard Warren approaching. Dread building to a crescendo in his stomach, Warren makes the final few strides to their bedroom and opens the door.

If it hadn’t been for the situation they were in, the sight of Kurt before him would have filled Warren with warmth, with the addictive calmness and security that Kurt usually provides him with, tense disagreements about family notwithstanding. He is sitting up in bed, curled up against the night’s chill with a book in his lap, rich blue fur bathed in the incandescent light of a bedside lamp. He looks to Warren expectantly when he enters the room, lips parting slightly and then pressing back together as if he had begun to speak and thought better of it. He has grown more adamant lately, more determined not to enable Warren’s more avoidant and self-destructive behaviours. The silence stretches on, fraying and thinning like an overtaxed rope until Warren finally gives in, words leaving his lips with such force that he almost lurches forward.

“It’s not that fucking easy, okay?” he blurts. “I can’t just cut him off whenever I feel like it. That’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say it was,” replies Kurt, his tone earnest if somewhat dry, with just enough force in it to spark a fresh wave of frustration in Warren.

“But you think it, don’t you? You think I should be able to just snap my fingers and be totally done with him!”

An exasperated sigh from Kurt has Warren feeling like a child again, scolded by a parent, a relative, a teacher, and infuriated by their condescension.

“You do!” he snaps before Kurt has gotten a single word out. The interruption causes Kurt to frown deeply, peeling back the covers and standing up with as much composure as he could muster.

“Is it so bad that I want you to get rid of the single worst influence in your life?”

“He’s my dad.”

“He’s said horrible things to you! He says them every time you see him! Homophobic things, mutophobic things. The number of times you’ve come home in tears because of him… He’s an awful, bigoted, ignorant man and you don’t deserve to have that in your life!”

“It’s more complicated than that! He��s really shitty to me, yeah, I’ll give you that. But he’s my dad. He’s family. And I keep thinking, I don’t know, maybe if I give him enough time... Look, I can’t just— If I tried to—” The words dry up in his mouth as quickly as they had come rushing to his mind, his building agitation tearing an animalistic growl from deep within his throat.

“I know how impossible it seems to give up on the idea of things getting better.” Kurt’s voice is a warning, stepping closer to Warren like a lion tamer, fighting his own anger as it tries to leap up in response to his partner’s. “Trust me, I know. I’ve been through it before. Which means I also know what I’m talking about when I say that taking the plunge and making the tough choices makes everything easier in the long run.”

           The words make sense. They sound perfectly reasonable. And this, more than anything, is what angers Warren the most. These perfect, reasonable words coming from a perfectly reasonable man, so well-adjusted and put-together and so fucking adult. The affront of having his own misjudgements and insecurities laid out for him is almost too much for him to bear, and it only hurts more that despite knowing deep down that Kurt is right, he cannot stop his own feelings. Even with full awareness of the problem, he is powerless to unravel it.

“He’s my dad,” he snarls, gaze affixed firmly to the floor, hot, shameful tears pricking the backs of his eyes.

“And? My father is a literal biblical demon! And my mother is… well, my mother.” “That’s different. You had Margali. You had your family in the circus.” “Until I came here. Then, I had a mother who couldn’t figure out whether she was evil or not and a father who wanted to use me and all my other half-demon siblings to tear a hole in the underworld.”

His breath trembles as he steps forward, catching Warren’s chin under one finger and raising it to meet his eyes. Through all his pent-up frustration, the anger and grief, he smiles. Meekly, faintly, but with enough tenderness to melt through all of Warren’s pride. In an instant, he is putty in Kurt’s hands once more, hanging precariously on the silence between them, desperate for shelter from the storm raging within him.

“But I also had the other X-Men. I had you. And whenever Mystique shows up, or I want to feel sorry for myself because of who my father is, I just remind myself that you guys are enough.” The tears are streaming freely down Kurt’s cheeks now, collecting in shivering droplets at his chin and falling onto Warren’s fingers, numb with the weight of all the emotions warring in his mind.

           Gradually, and then all at once, Warren is hit with an astounding exhaustion, one that reaches right to his bones. He gives in, gives up the reins he has clung so desperately to, and collapses into Kurt’s waiting arms. They catch him with all the strength in the world, holding his entire life afloat in their firm yet gentle grasp. Warren feels lips pressed against his ear, exults in the hot breath against his skin. The lips and the breath are accompanied by whispered words of comfort, reassurances and promises that everything would be okay. He loses himself to the simple, euphoric feeling—of being safe, of being loved, so absorbed in it that he cannot tell how much time has passed when Kurt lifts those wonderful lips from his ear, pressing them instead against Warren’s for just a moment before pulling back to gaze at Warren with searching eyes.

“I’m sorry I got so worked up,” he murmurs. “I just hate seeing you like this.” Warren nods, slow and short.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I’m sorry, too.”

           Wordlessly, the two of them climb under the covers, retreating all too readily into a world much smaller than the one that had sparked the argument between them. Warren hesitates when he tries to speak, throat catching involuntarily, a remnant of his pride, though the night’s events have left it weakened enough that he can easily push past it.

“I’ll… I’ll work on talking to dad less,” he says, and Kurt can tell that the words are a promise. “I can stop going to so many family things, stop answering all his stupid invasive questions.”

Kurt nods, pausing reverently before he replies.

“I think that’s a good idea. Take it at your own pace. We’ll see how things go.”

Warren can’t do a thing to help the great swell of adoration he feels at seeing those big, thoughtful yellow eyes, the crease of his brow. He presses his head to Kurt’s chest, and even then he feels he cannot get close enough to the man he has fallen so achingly hard for. His wings sweep up and out, blanketing Kurt on both sides, movements as careful and covetous as if he were handling a rare and precious gem.

“Kurt?”

The blue mutant is almost dreaming when the voice stirs him, the rumble of the chest atop his rousing him back to consciousness.

“Mm?”

“Thank you. For sticking with me. Putting up with me.”

“I don’t put up with anything, mein Engel. I love you. I’ll always want to help you when you’re struggling.”

Warren inhales sharply, lips pressed tightly together.

“If either of us is anything close to an angel, it’s definitely you,” he says with the softest hint of a laugh, winding his arms tighter around the warmth of the body he has positioned himself against. Kurt says nothing, heart suddenly bounding with something unplaceable. The feeling stays with him until he loses himself to sleep, lulled into a deep, peaceful rest by the rhythm of Warren’s breaths against his fur.