#i drew this lightning fast no joke

[myonmukyuu]

quick comic for 🐱 day!

[mediocre-writerr]

are you real? [wanda maximoff]

summary: it’s been a long time since you were just two kids with an undeniable bound, falling further and further into some uncharted feelings; chapter 3 of ‘tis the damn season

warnings: explicit language, otherwise none?

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

Winter Break - 11 years ago

You and Wanda fell into a simple routine the rest of winter break. You spent mornings on your front porch drinking hot chocolates and reading in a comfortable silence. Some days Pietro and the rest of the boys joined the two of you, but most of the time it was just you and her, and you weren’t complaining. 

Wanda and Pietro’s dad, despite being so busy at the Christmas tree farm that they owned, caught on fairly quickly that his children’s friend group earned another member. He showed up on our doorstep, Wanda right behind him, holding a large pot. A pot full of fresh paprikash, you didn’t know what it was, but Wanda quickly reassured you that it was the most delicious food you’d ever taste. As you looked at your parents compared to him, your parents were surprisingly young, not too much younger, but young. Yet, his smile was wide and youthful just like Wanda and Pietro’s. 

Your mom poured a glass of wine and the three adults sat out on the kitchen island chatting while the two of you eavesdropped from the couch. It was nothing too exciting, just your classic I’ll keep an eye on them, if she’s ever over. Your parents seemed to take quite a liking to the older man, “Well, maybe now we can get a discount on a fresh Christmas tree,” your mom jokes, causing your dad to chuckle. 

When you weren’t taking lessons on how to be a better ice skater, you were traveling not too far out of town to the slopes. Sam’s parents owned the small lodge up there, so some days you and the rest of the gang would hitch a ride with his parents and spend the whole day snowboarding. 

“I hope you can snowboard better than you can ice skate, Y/L/N,” Wanda nudged your shoulder as you waited in line for the chairlift. The rest of the boys in their own little world talking about some video game that just came out recently.

You let out a small scoff, “Excuse me, Ms. Maximoff, I for one happen to be actually pretty good at snowboarding. And you were pretty amazed at how better I gotten at ice skating yesterday,” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she commented as the two of you got on the chairlift.

The two of you sit in a soft comfortable silence, before you break it, a random thought appearing in your head, “Hey Wanda?” she hums softly in response, “Why isn’t your mom around a lot?” 

You noticed the way her body goes stiff. She clears her throat, “Yeah, well, she’s dead, Y/N.” 

“Oh…I uh, I’m so sorry…” you drew out, not sure about what to say. You mentally face palmed yourself because you know that saying sorry is probably the last thing she wants to hear. 

“No, It’s okay. It happened a couple years ago, but besides my friends, kids at school still act weird about it. Probably because all of them still have both their parents. So, honestly, I’d rather take your questions than you being all weird about,” she reassures you, “Now are you ready to show me that you can actually snowboard?” she teases with a bright smile. 

I threw the goggles onto my face, strapped my feet into the board’s binding, and stared out at the monstrous slope. Your adrenaline was coursing through your veins faster than the speed of lightning, “Prepared to be amazed, Maximoff,” 

“I have learned that you’ll probably continue to amaze me, Y/L/N,” 

Wanda was fast becoming your favorite person. And you’re pretty sure she felt the same way. You and Wanda spent most of your time on the slopes or on the ice skating rink. On the days where the wind was too blistering, you’d hole up in your basement with the heater on full blast. You and Wanda would flop down on the gray sectional sofa with a mug full of hot chocolate and on occasions leftover paprikash or whatever Sokovian dish Oleg made the night before. Depending on the day, you’d either put on a movie or listen to records off your dad’s old record player. 

You’d take turns playing different movies or listening to different albums. But one day, she brought up the guitar that sat in the corner of the room. You took a bite of the paprikash to avoid answering about it, but it only caused her eyebrows to raise and a teasing smile on her lips, “You can play it, can’t you?” 

“I dabble,” you responded with a mouth full of food. 

“Play me something,” 

You’ve never played for anyone else before, always denying anyone’s request for any song whatever the occasion was. But for some reason, you just can’t say no to her. Setting the hot bowl onto the small coffee table in front of you, you grab the acoustic guitar, and bring it over to the couch. The brunette sits in front of you criss-cross applesauce with an excited smile on her face. 

The familiar chords flew off your fingertips with such ease and the soft words of you singing filled the room softly. Your heartbeat is racing a mile a minute, faster than it was when you were snowboarding down the hill with the risk of breaking a limb at any time, “Forever the name on my lips, just like our last.”

You finish singing with a breathy chuckle, “I started playing guitar right after Taylor Swift came out with Speak Now last year. I wanted to be just like her and that was the first song I’ve ever learned, but my mom was like you don’t understand the meaning of this song. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it,” All she did was just smile at you, “What?” you ask.

“Are you even real?” she whispered with the brightest smile on her face. 

Winter Break - 9 years ago

The rest of eighth grade wasn’t too exciting. You adjusted to your new school with ease with help of your new friends, but especially Wanda. Your routine didn’t stop after winter break, your parents and Oleg would always joke, saying that if you found Wanda, Y/N wouldn’t be too far behind. 

Your first year of high school wasn’t anything special either. Except, the boys' voices were growing deeper and you and Wanda’s body were changing. Wanda came to your house crying one day because she went to use the bathroom and found blood staining her underwear. Oleg forgot to mention to her that that happens to girls sometimes, and practically begged your mom to teach her about it. And she did. Ever since that day going forward, your mom thought of Wanda as her second daughter. 

It was the first day of winter break. Surprisingly, the winter air wasn’t as cold as the last couple years. The lake still in its liquid form, the boys thought it would be the perfect time to introduce you to Westview’s age old tradition. You all cut through the trail between your guys’ properties, all the way to Steve’s house from school. A small little boat stood tied up to the dock. 

Wanda reached her hand out to help you, and a hot current of electricity buzzed from your fingers to your neck. 

What the hell was that?

Steve drove us a little north of the docks, passing by all the neighborhood docks and towards the other end of the lake, “This, Y/N, is Westview Point,” Bucky declared, helping Steve tie the boat to the small dock on the shoreline, “High school kids do this every year, if the lake isn’t frozen solid by winter break. Unfortunately, we couldn’t participate in our freshman year since the lake was already rock hard.”  

“It’s totally safe to jump. High school kids have been doing it for years,” Scott adds on. 

The boys start stripping down their many layers of clothing, but you were only focused on the tall cliff in front of you. The color from your face slowly fading, “You don’t have to,” Wanda reassures, “I’ll stay here with you.” 

“No it’s okay, I can do this.” You slowly started to strip out of your hoodie and sweatpants, your body being hit by the crisp winter wind that loomed around the small town. You slowly stopped in your place when you noticed Wanda stripping down to. She was wearing a dark red bikini and you were caught off guard by how stunning she looked. How have you not noticed it before? 

With a clear of your throat, you hopped off the boat, and you climbed the large cliff with Wanda right behind you. Each one of the boys, jumping into the freezing cold water down below. A chorus of screams and curses fell from their lips as they resurfaced, “Holy shit! That’s cold!” Sam yelled, “C’mon girls, don’t back out on us now!” 

Your stomach twisted, it was a lot higher up here than it actually looks, “You want to go back the way we came down?” she whispers to you softly, “You don’t have to prove anything to these guys. They’re stupid and will probably get pneumonia. But if you really want to do this, we’ll do it together. We’ll hold hands and we’ll jump together.” 

“Swear?” you ask, sticking your pinky up.

The brunette chuckled softly, interlocking your pinkies together, “Swear.” She let go of your hand for a split second before threading her fingers through yours, “Together,” 

You drop like an anvil falling out of the sky. It was an uncomfortable sensation at first. The freezing cold water felt like it was burning on your skin. You kicked up, breaking through the water, and letting out a chatter of curses. You and Wanda swim back to the boat, using the little ladder to haul yourselves up, while the boys run back towards the cliff to jump again. She wrapped you tightly in a towel, tucking you into it to try and keep you warm, before she even wrapped a towel around herself. 

Wanda wrapped the towel around herself before moving to sit next to the bench beside you, your thighs pressed together. The brunette stares at you intently, the green in her eyes suddenly becoming your favorite color, “Hold on, you’ve got an eyelash on your cheek,” Wanda’s freezing cold thumb finds your cheek, as the pads of it gently rub the eyelash off. Your eyes flicker down to her lips and the small little crease on the top lip. 

Well, this is a new feeling. 

“I got it,” she whispered, her breath warm against her chilly cheeks. 

Before you can even stop the words from falling from your mouth, they come out anyway, “Where are your freckles?” you whisper.

“The clouds have been covering the sky recently, so the sun hasn’t gotten a chance to bring them back out,” she shrugged, “Don’t worry though, they’ll be back. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone really paid attention to my freckles,” 

“I pay attention to everything about you, Wands,” 

Christmas is a big deal in Westview is what you’ve recently learned. So to signify Christmas coming soon, the very first day of winter break they have an impressive firework display for the small town. You and your friends stayed on the north end of the lake, sitting in the boat. Your hoodies snuggled close to your bodies, while eating some random snacks that you guys packed. 

Another boat pulled up next to us and you recognized some other kids from school: Valkyrie, Thor, Loki, T’Challa, Shuri, Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons, and Daisy Johnson. Scott warned that he invited some other kids from school, but you completely forgot after that moment with Wanda. Daisy smiled at you softly as she hopped onto Steve’s boat. 

You knew Daisy from your science class, she was your lab partner. She has short brown hair and these piercing brown eyes that you could get lost in. You could get lost in them, if you weren’t addicted to those god damn green eyes. You were always addicted to her, it’s just all becoming clearer now. 

Taking advantage of the darkening sky you watch over Wanda. She was listening to Thor rant about something that happened over the football season; a story that you’ve heard a million times. Her hair was naturally wavy and thick, and she kept having to tuck it behind her ear. Her lips were perfect and you caught yourself wondering if your lips would be like two puzzle pieces meeting for the very first time. You sit quietly at your revelation as she just nodded along to his story, the thought of her lips on your causing you to shiver. 

“Are you cold?” Daisy asks, breaking you away from your thoughts, and honestly you didn’t even notice her sitting next to you until now.

“A little bit,” you admitted. 

Wanda eyes trailed over to where you were sitting, and she watched as Daisy pulled her black hoodie off her body and passed it to you. It felt like a blade had stabbed through her heart, as she saw you throw it on. It struck her hard and out of nowhere, like the bust that hit Regina George, but she had no idea why the sight of you putting on Daisy’s sweatshirt made her want to puke. 

“You okay, Wanda?” Bucky asked, catching her staring wide at you and Daisy. 

Your eyes flew to Wanda's, staring at her curiously, “Oh yeah I’m fine!” 

“Can we please do something that does not involve Thor ranting about a story for the millionth time?” Valkyrie asks. 

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asked.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” There was a chorus of yes’s and sure’s running around the boat, “Alright perfect! Bucky, truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” he said with a smug smile on his face.

Valkyrie’s eyes glistened with mischief, “I dare you to kiss Steve,” 

“Ha, jokes on you, we do this every day.” Bucky quipped, as he took Steve’s face in his hands and gave him a big peck on the lips. 

The game went on just like that. A bunch of crazy dares and spilled  truths. Until it was Wanda’s turn again. Loki had a smug smirk on his face as she answered with dare, “Wanda, I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You feel your whole body stiffen and from right next to you, you could feel Daisy’s body stiffen slightly. Wanda’s piercing green eyes were staring daggers into Loki. There were a few tense moments where neither of them were backing down, “C’mon Wanda, it’s a game, it doesn’t have to mean anything more than what it is.”

“Fuck off, Loki,” she muttered, a rush of red rising past her neck and up her cheeks. 

You look down at your hands, your stomach lurching at the thought of her not wanting to kiss you, “Nice job guys, you embarrassed her.” Daisy pointed out, causing everyone’s eyes to snap to yours, “I’ll kiss her because Wanda won’t,”

Daisy leaned forward, taking my face into her soft hands, and moved her face closer to hers, “Is this okay?” she whispered, her lips inches away from yours. You didn’t know what to say, you wanted to kiss Wanda, but she flat out rejected you, so you nod because it’ll be a good distraction to take your mind off of her. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted of vanilla. Then it was over. She pulled back her lips still inches away from your face, “You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted to do that.” 

“You snooze, you lose Wanda,” Loki shrugged, when Daisy finally pulled away far enough. Wanda watched you silently, her face still red, and you looked away, turning your head to the next person’s truth or dare. 

That was your first kiss, but your mind was still haunted by the fact that it wasn’t from Wanda, and she didn’t even want to kiss you, not even with a dare. 

Bucky’s gaze flew back and forth on the two of you, like a spectator at a tennis match. The fireworks started, booms echoing around the lake, and he watched as Wanda shot daggers into Daisy’s arm that was now wrapped around your shoulder to ‘keep you warm’. Bucky fell onto the bench next to Wanda, “Little Wanda has a crush,” he teased, only to get an elbow to the stomach to which he let out a small groan, “Yep, okay, I deserved that. But Wanda, if you want to be with her, you need to act fast, or someone else will.”

The first few days of winter break flew by in a flash. The kiss that didn’t happen wasn’t long forgotten from your mind, but neither of you brought it up, and you fell silent back into your easy routine. 

The truth was, you went on a couple dates with Daisy. A couple dinner dates to the local diner, but that was it. You mentioned it to Wanda once, but she never seemed keen about talking about it. 

You and Wanda sat in your basement, your dad’s vinyls playing softly around the room. You were fiddling with the strings of your guitar on the floor,  as Wanda just laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, “How are your dates with Daisy going?”

You froze, clearing your throat and finally coming to your senses, you started fiddling with the strings once more, “They’re okay, there’s not much to really say.” 

“Do you like her?” she asked. 

You shrugged, even though she was still staring up at the ceiling, “She’s okay. We’ve only been on two dates, so I wouldn’t say we’re itching to get hitched.” 

“You didn’t tell me about the second one.” 

“I didn’t think you would care and besides I like someone else more, so-” you trailed off. She never told you about her crushes, so why did it matter if you told her yours? 

Wanda tapped your shoulder with her foot, “I do care.”

There were a few soft knocks on your bedroom window, awaking you from your peaceful slumber. Snow piled onto the ground and fluffy piles, as Wanda stood outside bundled up in clothing, and a small wrapped gift in her hands. She gestured towards the front door and you quickly ran to the front door, your bare feet pattering softly against the cold wood floor, careful not to wake up your parents. 

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” she replied with a bright smile on her face. She places the present down on the small little coffee table outside, before wrapping her arms snuggly around you, just like she always would. You closed your eyes briefly, taking in her scent of vanilla, cinnamon,m and a slight smell of fresh Christmas trees.

You step out of the way, quickly letting her inside, when you notice how cold she actually was. The two of you settle onto the couch and she hands you two presents wrapped in this white wrapping paper with Christmas trees, and it was tied with a red ribbon. You opened the first one carefully, inside was a small wooden frame holding a photo of you two. The two of you were sitting on the ski lift, your snowboards attached to your feet, both squinting at the sun that was somehow brighter with the white snow, there was a shy smile on Wanda’s face and a toothy grin on yours. 

“I love this photo,” you whisper.

“I’m glad you think so,” she replied, before handing you the other present. It was slightly larger than the other one, but you don’t think anything can compare to the first one she gave you. You unwrapped the gift to find a record in it. Taylor Swift’s big flowy purple dress flashed in front of your eyes, “I know your dad’s collection of vinyls are lacking some Taylor Swift, so I found this at a thrift store a little closer to the city, and practically begged Dad to get it,” she shrugged.

“Wanda, I love it. Thank you,” you said, hugging the two presents close to your chest, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” 

You race upstairs to find your brown paper wrapped gift for Wanda, sitting on your desk. A dark green bow placed on top of the thick gift. You bit your lip as you watched her remove the bow, placing it on top of your head, causing the both of you to giggle. She tore off the paper and revealed the piles of HGTV magazines. 

She looked up at you with those green eyes and a soft smile sprayed across her face, “Definitely the best gift I got this year. I don’t have to open any of my other gifts because I know this one is the best.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, “Swear?” She took your extended pinky and intertwined it between the two of you. 

“Swear. You know, sometimes I think no one gets me the way you do,” she says, the pink on her cheeks deepening to maroon. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth and you leaned a tiny bit closer, “Do you ever get that feeling?”  

Your mouth felt dry and you subconsciously ran your tongue over your top lip. Her gaze followed its path, and you could see her swallow thickly, “Yeah,” you whisper, intertwining your already linked hands together, hoping that she would just get the message and kiss you already.

But she didn’t. It was as if someone snapped and her hypnosis wore off, “I don’t want to mess that up. Ever.” she whispered. 

The phone started ringing, “Do you mind getting that? I have to pee.” you tell her and she just nods, the both of you putting distance back between yourselves. When you came back from the bathroom, Wanda held the phone towards you, an unreadable look on her face, “Hello?” 

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” Daisy’s voice rings through your ear and your eyes flash towards Wanda’s. She busied herself with the kitchen, finding ingredients to make for you and your family for breakfast, “I just wanted to say hi and tomorrow night, a few of my friends are coming over as this late Christmas thing. I was wondering if you wanted to stop by and hang out with us?” 

Your eyes found Wanda’s who wasn’t making eye contact with you anymore, “Sure yeah,” 

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a great day!” 

“Thanks, you too. Merry Christmas.” 

Wanda found your guys’ mixing bowl and started whisking together some pancakes, which you gladly took over, so she could focus on the eggs and bacon, “Was that star volleyball player Daisy Johnson?” she teased, a smirk on her face, and you gave her a look. 

“Haha, very funny,” you tell her.

“You don’t seem very thrilled that she called or invited you out tomorrow.” She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, like I told you before, I like some else more,” you continued whisking away at the pancake mix. 

“The same person?” she asked quietly and you just nodded in response, “Do they know?” 

You looked up at Wanda who was looking at you expectantly, and for a split second, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope flash in her eyes before her look became unreadable again, “I’m not sure,”

Before Wanda could respond, heavy footsteps came down the stairs and towards the kitchen, “Your mom owes me ten bucks,” your dad comments. 

“Why?” 

“I bet that Wanda would already be here. She thought I was wrong because it was Christmas morning, and I said ‘No one can separate those two, not even a family holiday,” He commented, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “Merry Christmas Y/N.” 

He weaved his way through the kitchen towards Wanda, pressing a kiss on top of her head as well. A sight that made your heart flutter by how much your parents take a liking to her, “And Merry Christmas Wanda.” 

Wanda’s face brightens with a wide smile, “Merry Christmas Mr. Y/L/N.” 

The next night you arrive at Daisy’s house and find her and her friends sitting in her basement. It was odd to say the least, you don’t usually hang out with other people besides your friend group. The rest of the seats were taken when you arrived, so you sat perched on the armrest of Daisy’s chair, but she pulled you onto her lap, wrapping an arm around your waist. Her thumb circled softly on her hips. 

Loki passed each of us a glass of whiskey and ice. It smelt strong, and you’ve never really drank before, only having a glass of wine with dinner when your mom and dad allow you too, “It’s okay, you don’t have to drank any, if you don’t want to,” Daisy reassured you, and you smiled gratefully at her. Her thumb continued to circle on your hips while the group just talked about random things. It was pretty tame considering it was a group of unsupervised teenagers and a bottle full of whisky. 

It was getting closer towards midnight, and you started to bid everyone their goodbyes, as you were cutting it close to curfew, “Wait, before you leave, there’s something I want to give you,” Daisy said, leading you towards her bedroom. She closed the door behind you and grabbed a small wrapped gift that sat on her desk, “It’s a late Christmas gift,” 

You unwrapped the lid to find a small velvet box inside. You lifted off the lid and inside was a silver necklace with her volleyball number clamped on it, “I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend,” she smiled, “And I thought what better way to make it official, than this,” 

“Wow…Daisy, I uh, I don’t want to say,” you stammered. 

“You can think about it, but I want you to know that I really do like you.” She put her hand on your hips and gently pulled you towards her, bringing her lips down onto yours. They were soft as she moved them gently over her mouth. She pulled back just enough to look softly into your eyes, “I really really like you.” She whispered, kissing you once more, and you closed your eyes with the images of Wanda flashing through your mind. 

It's New Year’s Eve Eve and you still haven’t given Daisy an answer and you avoided talking to Wanda about it. Your parents left for the holiday, your mother having this big professor’s gala back in New York City, so you decided to stay back, your parents only approving when Oleg reassured that he’d be over to check by every so often. 

You heated up some leftover food that Oleg dropped off for you and threw on a horror film. Wanda was out helping her dad close up the Christmas tree lot, while Pietro and the rest of the boys were stuck up in Sam’s cabin due to the too icy roads to get back down the mountain. It was a terrible decision to watch a horror film alone, you could barely watch Coraline without getting frightened. Even reruns of Friends couldn’t shake the fear in your bones. A knock at your door startled you as you slowly crept towards it, you saw Wanda standing out there, “Oh thank God you’re here!” you exclaimed when you opened the door, “Can you stay with me tonight? I watched a scary movie by myself which was a terrible idea,” 

“Woah, slow down, I was already planning on staying with you. There’s no need to fear,” she reassured you. 

The two of you started getting ready for bed. Wanda folded back your gray plaid comforter and climbed in. You and Wanda had plenty of sleepovers before, but somehow this felt different. You didn’t know if you should face toward her, away from her, lie face up staring at the ceiling you weren’t sure. But you just opted for the safe choice of lying flat on your back. There were soft moments of silence before she broke it.

“Y/N?” she asked, and you rolled onto your side. You could barely make out the shape of her body, “Do you have a thing with Daisy?” 

“Um, I don’t know. We’ve kissed a few times and she asked me to be her girlfriend, but there’s no label on it,” 

“Do you want there to be?” she asked.

You paused for a second, “No,” 

“Why not?” she pushed and you could feel her green eyes bore into you, but you didn’t reply, you just stayed silent, staring into the pitch black darkness, “Why aren’t you making it official with her?” 

“Because I’d rather be with someone else,” you blurted, immediately wanting the world to swallow you whole. 

“Who?” She asked as adrenaline filled your veins like some type of drug. She placed her hand along your waist, squeezing it softly, and you wondered if she could hear how fast your heart was racing, “Who, Y/N?” 

You let out a soft huff, “Don’t make me tell you,” you said softly, and you could feel Wanda turn to face you. Her nose pressed against yours.

“Please tell me,” she pleaded.

You swallowed thickly, “I think you know,” 

She stayed silent, but you could feel her inch closer, like a moth drawn to a flame. Her mouth was now inches away from yours, as her thumb rubbed small circles along your hip. Daisy did this, but this time it felt right, “I just want to be sure, that this, us, what we’re feeling is real. I want to be sure that I didn’t make this up.” 

You closed your eyes, letting the words fall softly from your mouth, “I’d rather be with you,” 

As soon as the phrase left your mouth, her lips were instantly on yours. It felt like honey and tasted like cinnamon. Just as quickly as her lips were on yours, she pulled back and pressed her forehead against yours, “You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that,” 

“Why didn’t you kiss me that night of truth or dare?” you whispered.

She let out a soft sigh, “Because I was just realizing my feelings for you and I wanted to do this right. I didn’t want our first kiss to become of some dare. I want to do this right.” She closed the gap between us, kissing you deeply, which caused you to whimper, “Thank God this is real,”

[ladykf-writes]

The Soulmate, Soulmarks Verse

(as requested, and as will be seen in the upcoming fic, Waltzing Through Time, primarily featuring ReGen pairing - Reeve Tuesti / Genesis Rhapsodos.) Yes I WILL make that a thing.

So, how does this world work? For right now, we'll mostly talk about the soulmarks.

There are two kinds of soulmarks -- primary, and secondary. We'll talk about the secondaries in a bit.

Primaries

There are at least two primaries as you need two marks to make a bond - yours, and a partner's. However, polycules may find themselves with three or more marks. (Usually three, and very, very rarely more than five as it's only counting the core matches and not any wider web of not-mutual lovers. It's possible! But unlikely.)

Before going forward I would like to add: soulmates are not inherently sexual or romantic. By the world's definition, your soulmate is the other half of your soul, someone that fundamentally completes you in some way.

Notably: Drew Morrison - one you've met if you've read Dog Whistle - is aroace, in every verse including this one. Full on aromantic, and on the gray asexual spectrum though he doesn't usually realize that. And he is paired with Benji Richards, who is gleefully bi and still hooks up with other people to fill those needs, much to Drew's relief. But they fit in a way no one else can complete them as soulmates.

So, regardless of how many are involved... now that we know what the primaries are (you plus mutual partner(s) regardless of orientation) when do they show up and how do they function?

The following applies no matter how many marks you may have:

When you hit puberty, a soulmark appears somewhere on your body, and simultaneously appears in the same place on your soulmate's body. Since I've already disclosed Drew&Benji we'll use them as an example.

Drew's mark is a thick rope of ivy with leaves that forms a bracelet around his right wrist. It appeared when he was thirteen, in full vibrant jungle green colors. There's jokes when he's older that it's because he ties people together. (Not wrong, as you'll see.)

When he's sixteen, three years later, a the black outline of a lightning bolt appears on his upper right arm (Benji's mark, because he's fast, thinks quickly, and is very intelligent) It doesn't have color however, because they haven't "bonded" - the colloquial term for this is "triggered" as in haven't triggered their bond so it's active, as you would other sorts of mechanisms, like opening an automatic door, and not in the medical sense of something that triggers a traumatic reaction.

In order to activate or trigger your bond, you must make skin-to-skin contact. This has affected everything about clothing and what is and is not considered reasonable to wear. Most people seek out their bonds, and leave points of their body bare to touch. Hands are a big deal, and shaking bare hands goes from a mere pleasantry to a spectrum between 'I would love to bond with you' and 'we're clearly so incompatible I'm not worried about it' - and you get to guess which is which.

Then there are people who don't want to bond, who wear long sleeves and pants all year, constantly wear gloves and try not to let any but a scarce few touch them skin to skin. You get a lot of that with the Turks and also with SOLDIER, who likely screen a partner first for what their mark is before having a hookup. Not, necessarily, because they don't want a bond. Most people want a bond, to know what it's like to meet the missing half of your soul - to even know what that means. But their jobs are dangerous. Is it fair to bond with someone with a life that is likely going to come to an unnaturally short, and likely violent, end? There's different schools of thought, including 'is it fair to make that choice for them?' as well.

Backing up from the questions of ethics of bonds... what happens if you do?

When you bond

Once you've made skin to skin contact, what was essentially line art fills in with the same colors your soulmate wears. Benji and Drew highfived after training, caught skin on their arms, and were immediately fixated. I choose to use them as an example because of the next topic.

Skin hunger. It affects everyone, be they a minor that has no business getting ah, involved with their mate yet - because of course, you can get large age gaps between soulmates, some people get a marker say, five years before they get their own, and know that their partner is at least five years older. Or, in Drew's case, someone who... while not repulsed by sex was honestly really uninterested.

But the thing with skin hunger is it's just a call for skin-on-skin. It has nothing to do specifically with sex. In Waltzing With Time, you'll see Genesis just laying on Reeve, shirtless, while Reeve pets his hair and occasionally brushes his shoulders or lays a hand over his heart. (And, of course, there is a lot of coincidental, mundane contact. Even holding hands helps soothe the urge down to manageable levels.)

It doesn't matter your job; you are required, by medical and insurance purposes (union as well, but we're mostly talking about ShinRa), to take a week off. And you are not allowed to work remotely until the fifth day. This is because you're commonly believed to be a bit... out of your mind from the new bond. Not just the skin hunger; the vast majority of bonds cause an immediate, often irrational, anything for you mentality. To the point of endangering funds, other relationships, their body, and their dignity. (And probably more, but that's worth note.) With this in mind, again - a week off, to "settle into the bond" and begin to get back to where you can function as independent people.

In ShinRa it's often called a 'quarantine' period, though there are gentler and warmer phrases like "soul reunion" and "bond week" as well as simply settling. The most common phrase in the eastern ShinRa lands is "taking a week" and is universally understood that unless you specify it's just a vacation, it is bond related.

There is also a note on senses that is not just connected to the enhanced: sometimes, when soulmates are apart, they can share sensory information. However, it's not so easy as just sending it.

Sight is the most desirable and in theory also the easiest (it's not a high bar). You see what your soulmate sees if they're fixating on something for long enough - assuming, of course, that the receiving soulmate has their eyes closed at the right time.

Technically, with enough emotion behind it and a strong enough bond, you might be able to override a second or two of the receiving partner's sight with their eyes open but by far if it's ever done it is deliberate on both ends

Sound only transfers when it has made an impression, and it is almost entirely random unless you can fixate on it. (Shared stuck songs, anyone?)

Touch is spotty. It's almost never sent deliberately, and if it is then the partners have been deliberately practicing or there's some wild adrenaline and hyper focusing going on.

Smell + Taste seem to be completely at whim. There's talk of people sending it on purpose, but not much proof beyond say-so.

There is anecdotal evidence that the closer the soulmates are, the easier it is to share sensory information.

Worth noting as well: the shared senses does not include true telepathy.

Additional Primary details

Some other notes:

You have to go through the week for every set that bonds at the time. As in: if Partner 1/3 bonds with Partner 2/3 that's one week, but they have to take another week when they find Partner 3/3 and all three bond.

While the skin hunger and unreasoning levels of attachment fade by about the fifth day, and while partner(s) are literally able to separate by the end of the week, it has been proven that bonded mates can NOT be separated for more than five and a half weeks without beginning to have a reaction - by six weeks, skin hunger begins to return, as well as an increasingly over the top, dramatic and unreasonable thought process. It will take at least two weeks for the bonded to calm down and get back to being separately functional.

Many, many groups are advocating for a healthier two week period instead of the bare minimum single week. However, due to behind-the-scenes "government" ShinRa intervention, this motion hasn't passed.

With the nature of having to have skin contact for a bond to activate, you can have walked by your soulmate for years completely unknowing. However, there are some anecdotal "signs" that your soulmate is near. Including two that are true: their or your mark itching when you're close by (hard to prove), and getting pins and needles if you touch your mark through your soulmate's shirt or pants (you have to pay close attention to notice)

if your soulmate is dying, their mark begins to scar up around the edges; if they die, it will be raised up and rough to the touch, the colors faded and muddy. The living mate has to be watched carefully; they rarely outlive their mate by more than a few months unless they've been conditioning and are likely heavily drugged.

Secondaries

Secondary bonds, simply put, are found family. Someone has become so important to you that their mark appears somewhere on your body the moment you've started to feel that close and have touched each other. Now note:

This mark does not necessarily appear on you where it does on them, and it will be in miniature. This is helpful for people like Drew who have a dozen + marks.

These are not necessarily mutual, though by vast majority they are. Friendships, for example, being reliably close, but "work friends" are not necessarily mutually close.

Some people are far more prone than others to accumulating marks, and some are more inclined to gain them all over their body in comparison to one place.

Secondaries can be romantic or platonic; there is no way to know which is which - soulmarks are not defined by anything but love.

Secondaries don't require any taking a week, and don't offer the perks of Primaries, they're just there as proof of the people you feel closest to.

Secondaries, unlike primaries, can fade, vanish, or be replaced as your feelings change over time. This is therefore considered natural and normalizes the value of relationships in the moment over the course of a lifetime.

In Conclusion

And that's a wrap on the 101 of the Soulmarks!Verse. Now of course, something that would become such a huge part of society, and it's not a stretch to say it would change the world of FF7 as we know it. Old, not-dead faces in the Science Department, new Reactor protocol, new alliances and family ties and boogeymen that have slipped off to Reactor 00 oh my.

This will, of course, be covered in a later post; I think this one's long enough lol. Feel free to borrow the verse or the soulmate rules for something else! Just let me know. I want to seeeee.

[amberlight-warcraft]

“...Her name was Flarona”

Vianna spoke carefully with Hayley sat beside her. “She was a large woman, stood well above your average elf by a good few heads. Broad and strong, she was certainly unique, and I got none of those traits from her.” She smiles and pokes at Hayley’s side “So no making fun of my height.” Hayley giggles, rolling her eyes as she listens to the story her min’a told.  The sea swelled with the fury of the storm around that small skiff. It was simple in construction, meant to be fast on calm seas, perfect for those looking to travel quickly and travel lightly. Made from wood shaped by wispcallers, and blessed with the name Leaf-cutter, the boat was relatively young. It saw little damage and little repairs in it’s brief time exploring, though in this storm surely it would earn some great scars, much like it’s captain. Flarona was one of the largest of the crew of four. She held rights to call herself leaf-cutter’s owner, though in truth she would likely give the young thing to her crew-mates once she grew bored of kalimdor’s seas.  Now, however, was not boring, far from it. The sea rolled and crashed while the winds of Aviana’s fury roared overhead, drawing clouds together in a crash of lightning and thunder and a downpour one could only experience at sea. leaf-cutter was not meant for deep waters, and would be shattered surely as rain fell if any fool were to sail her into the maelstrom. So she was not far from the coast of Kalimdor, carrying her crew north towards the shores of Azshara.  “Get the sails drawn before they are ripped off!” Screamed Flarona into the storm, and with a sharp whistle in response, Gorekkai got to work. The troll’s deft hands drew him up the mast to the sails themselves, drawing ropes up alongside him despite the biting winds and relentless rains.  The blind man knew this boat better than his own home, and it showed as despite the storm he swiftly pulled the sail up and tied it shut before climbing down to the deck  “Sails ‘re tied!” He called out “Jus need ta get those damn crates tied!”  “I’m WORKING on it GOREKK” screeched the harpy currently struggling to fly through the rain and wind, chasing after barrels and crates and brooms and anything else not yet tied down and being thrown overboard.  She was swift and clever and skilled with knots but she could only do so much alone, especially with how swiftly the waves turned the poor craft near to it’s side and flung it’s cargo to the seas. Cargo they could not just let the depths claim. “I’ve got it” came the voice of a tall woman. A druidess, by the name if Melidra, who joined this crew on promise of keeping the seas calm and aviana’s fury at bay, though, admittedly, the broad woman was far more tuned to the ursol brothers than any aspect of storm and sky or wing and talon. She needed a ride, and she fibbed a bit. The crew knew of course, but she was pulling her weight. Holding down crates to tie them shut with ease, shifting from port to starboard with the swaying of the waves, acting as ballast for the poor little craft as it is tossed around at the sea’s mercy. They joked, once, that she and flarona could not set on the same side of the boat, for fear it would capsize with the imbalance. Though now, as the two large women shifted their weight from one size to another, they served not as danger but assurance to the boat’s upright state.  It was a hectic night, and soon the waves sought to bash them on the shores Luckily, Elune was kind that night, and rather than a land of jagged rocks and boulders to shatter upon, instead the seas beached the boat and it’s crew onto soft sands. There the four lay, collapsed and exhausted on a dirty deck, stuck ashore, thankful that on this day at least, nothing was lost.  “Remind me..” spoke that harpy, by the name of Maka’krii “to say no when you next ask me to sail.” 

[fishstickfeind]

Lightning McChicken and Big Mack are right there, CARS MCDONALD’S AU LET’S MAKE IT HAPPEN /j

YESYES!!!!!! AGAHAHAHAH IVE JOKED ABOUT THIS WITH MY BROTHER BEFORE AND I LOVE IT

Mack is under appriciated, I love Mack he is absolutely so awesome

I almost drew Lightning McQueen in two burger buns today and I blame this post for it /lh

I dunno if you’ve ever seen it but same vibes as those “*insert character name here* works at burgerking” videos, specifically warrior cats but yeah kdndnskdjd

I know you put the /j there but I’m beyond tempted to make a McDonalds AU right now, or better yet just a fast food AU, Lightning works at McDonalds, Strip works at BurgerKing, and Chick works at like Wendys or somethin, you see where I’m headed with this snsnfkdjdn

[mondayxmorning]

𝙿𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙳𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙳-𝚆𝙰𝚃𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚆 𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙻 ; @ghostsxagain, x

​​​​​MATES. It was a label to their relationship that was left unsaid, until he said it. For the years they had been close, it was by far--- obvious. The two spoke among themselves just like any sort of friend would-- accompanied by sleepovers, inside jokes and even moments of vulnerability. Drew only further proved their point tonight with their guidance, empathy and resourcefulness. He immensely appreciated the shift of this friendship in comparison to his former mates-- for example, Drew wasn't self centered. When one would have tried to strike up a serious relationship, it would change as fast as lightning to something sports related or obscene and sexist. In a sense, fleeing from across the pond and stationing in States was also a little better in terms of company. He felt at ease with Drew's company, allowing them to equally 'bitch' all they wanted and not trump any personal problem of their own until an opportunity arose. Patience was also met, which was nice. It was always a treat to be met face to face with their best mate-- a simple text could go along way, but with luck of the two being here, in this moment, Patrick felt better about today's shittiness by openly being able to talk about it with someone he trusted--- actually, right now, the only person he trusted too.

"Aye, it would be a fantastic square, indeed." He snickered once more at their comment about their drawings. From time to time, even Patrick was hard on himself. He might have not had the same artistic mindset to critique like his friend did, but just like today--- he put a dampening label on his ability to fulfill his personal to-do list. But it had started with being nervous and being nervous made everything worse. Luckily his charm gave him a second chance, and that would be a second chance not to fumble. And while he was no psychologist, he picked up the odd response in how other people spoke or reacted with their body language. Deflated shoulders? Check. So, he understood why Drew asked for his opinion in the first place. "But no, no, don't---don't worry about me, worry about what makes you happy." Words slipped from his lips like the truth before, trying to reaffirm with a mirrored smile.

Again, at their friend's ever-so loving big heart, it came into play. They didn't have to be so generous or so kind, but they were. Patrick would never change that-- hell, he wouldn't even ask to change their socks if they were stinky! He'd wallow with the smell. (Not admitting the fact he was used to a neglectful brother and his dirty laundry growing up-- but that was a whole 'nother story, for 'nother day). This is how a friendship-- correction: a mateship worked. Goofiness, seriousness, and the in-between.

"Really?" The question at bay sounded more surprised, but in reality, he just looked at the semi-ruined shirt with furrowed brows. Was it even fixable? Maybe he should invest in what the American's call 'Tide?' or better laundry detergent? Whatever the fuck it was--- he'd have to be better at laundry too, or at least, not be so clumsy. "A sleepover sounds fantastic. I'll keep you up ALL night, we can watch chick-flicks!" Patrick teased, returning to wink with his own eye. After today's chaotic mess, he was more than happy to oblige, because Drew did say that today would be a new start, considering the time. "But really, I don't want to impose... though, if ya have milk and cereal, I'm coming over. And! And, I promise to give the shirt a better clean than this one, once I return it."

[dreamlandcreations]

All Hallows Eve

King Arthur x mage!Reader

Summary: Staying at the castle, you train Arthur so he can wield the sword properly. When All Hallows Eve arrives, the dead wants to be heard...

Warnings: angsty fluff?

•

The guards lead you to the throne room. Few of the knights and the king waits for you to enter. Another mage, they suspect, but they are not sure so the king agreed to hear you out.

All eyes are on you when you enter the room. You step closer to the blond man who matched the description of their leader. He studies you, finding you familiar, your manners very similar to the one mage he met.

"Who are you?" Arthur inquires blatantly and you tilt your head, looking him up and down slowly. He suddenly feels nervous because he can't read your expression but something tells him you are not entirely satisfied with what you see.

"Your new teacher." There is a palpable disdain in your voice, that perhaps answers his inner question. You are not happy with this task at all.

"And what would you like to teach me?" He looked you up and down like you did but his way of looking suggested he had ideas about what he would like to learn.

"Well, someone thought you should learn how to use that cursed thing." You incline your head in the direction of the sword. "And I drew the short straw." The first real expression he gets is your slightly sparkling eyes and raised eyebrow at his subtle challenge.

"Show me what you can do." He will soon learn you have no patience for, well anything, really. But he likes that you hate wasting time, especially with pleasantries and small talk, you prefer honesty instead.

"I don't want to hurt you." Arthur has doubts about your abilities and doesn't want to risk hurting a woman.

"You won't." He swears he saw a flash of a smirk before you moved lightning fast. Drawing out your own, black sword, you strike him and he barely has time to prevent losing his head by getting his weapon in the way.

It only takes three moves for you to get what you want. You try to strike him again and his response is a broad swing at your blade, which you drop at the last second and grab the end of the powerful weapon pointing at you. Holding it firmly you force its power to build and let it go with a blast, sending the king backwards, falling at the floor, looking at you like you've grown two heads.

The others were stopped from interfering by Bedivere. He knew not to mess with mages. You prove him right when you take the sword by the handle and twirl it, causing your eyes and the blade to glow, the table you directed it at crumbles onto the ground in pieces.

"That's impossible!" You throw the sword in the air and grab it by the tip with one hand so he can take it be the handle. Arthur takes it and stands as you speak.

"Nothing is impossible, but everything comes with a price and most can't even imagine paying it." You raise the hand you've grabbed the sword with and show him your burned palm.

"We will start tomorrow night." You close the discussion and Arthur gives you a reserved nod.

"Lord Bedivere will show you to a comfortable room..." He starts but then realises he missed something, so he asks. "What's your name?"

"Why would I tell you that?" There's definitely a tiny smirk pulling on your full lips.

"So I would know what to call you?" He retorts in a way you'd think he is speaking to a child who has a hard time understanding something. His tone is mocking, having the hint of his own smirk and raised eyebrow giving you the impression that all you heard about his joking manner is unfortunately true.

"You didn't bother before, Mage is fine for me too." You roll your eyes at him and turn to leave but he is not done.

"That would be a little confusing don't you think?" Again, teasing you to get what he wants. You think about how to throw him off his high horse and your lips stretch into a devious smile.

"What would you like to call me, then?" You ask, smiling, tilting your head and drawing up your brow again.

"Bitchy witch would fit." Bill mumbles, trying and failing to cover it with a cough.

"Hmm...yes, I think Witch will do." You answer the king then turn to Bill as you start to move in the direction of the door where Lord Bedivere waits for you. Standing before the man who mocked you, looking at him dead in the eyes you reply to him as well. "Don't call me a bitch again. Us bitches don't like that." Bill just looks at you with wide eyes and Arthur tries to hold back his laugh until you leave. This will be interesting, he thinks, following you with his eyes until you turn at the corner.

•

You've been living at the palace for a few months when All Hallows Eve arrives.

"What happened?" Arthur demands to know, rushing to your side as you watch through a window the disaster that threatens the city. His sword is drawn, ready for a fight but there is nothing he can slay.

"There is a big fire at the bridge and smaller ones all over the city, if we can't put it out under the pillars it can damage the structure, the citizens are being evacuated as we speak." One of the knights inform him in a hurry before he runs to join the people who try to salvage what they can.

You look at them struggle to put out the fire and you know they won't be able to do it in time so you grab Arthur's hand, touching the sword and focus on the fires. Arthur is still, feeling you like you were an extension of him and your power moves through him just like the sword's, the air is pulsating around you and both of your and his eyes are glowing from the magic flowing through you.

You exhale and inhale slowly and feel the flames within you, calming them by slowing your breath and putting them out with a last exhale. Immediately letting go of the sword when you are done, you turn to retreat to your room to collect your energy and manage the wound you just earned yourself.

Arthur finds you sitting on your bed, bandaging your burns. He sits beside you and turns you to him, taking a piece of cloths and swiping the blood from under your nose. You didn't feel it hit you that heavy then but you are still dizzy with the backlash.

"Thank you." You say quietly, waiting for him to talk and scold or tease you like he usually does.

"What was that?" He questions, raising your head with a finger under your chin and you give him a narrow eyed look that says 'don't even start that.' He just smiles at you and checks your hand before he orders you to rest.

You tell him you can't. He asks if you know the reason of the fires and you say yes. He hates it when he has to get things out of you word by word but he gets that your people are used to being secretive.

"Tonight the dead can interact with the living. The stronger the spirit, the more damage they can do. I think we both know who would want to destroy your kingdom with this burning passion." You give him some information but you don't want him to get to the conclusions and to the subject you are trying avoid.

"How do we deal with him?" He starts to wonder with the question, too focused on the problem to notice you hiding something.

"We?" You ask, hoping your tone would deliver the message that there will be no 'we' in this. Of course, he ignores it.

"Yes, we. You and me." You roll your eyes at him and give up trying to deter him, you know he's too stubborn to back down.

•

The ritual goes well. You summoned the dark spirit to the stone circle and banished him with fire that cleansed his spirit so he couldn't hold onto this word.

"Can you summon other spirits?" Arthur asks while you pack the ingredients and start to wash off the paint-mask that hid your face.

"No!" The answer comes too quickly and too loudly and you know you messed up.

"No, you can't or no, you won't?" He speaks in his usual tone but you can hear the disappointment and faint anger behind his carefree words..

"You are too clever for your own good." You sigh, giving in too easily. You have developed a soft spot for him and he is too attentive not to notice. He is shamelessly using it to his advantage every time.

"It is dangerous, you will follow my lead and do not speak your name, do not acknowledge your identity in any way. And whatever happens do not let them touch you." You instruct him sternly and for once he takes it seriously.

"Just one, Arthur." This is the first time you've ever said his name and he is distracted for a moment with how much he likes the sound of it coming from you. "Pick one person who passed away and summon them with calling on their name three times. You can let them go by blowing out the candle and saying 'you may rest in peace.'"

You let them talk from a safe distance, watching over the stubborn man as he follows every instruction you had given while you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

It's over in a few minutes, he didn't let the soul linger too long, heeding your words and closing his unfinished business quickly.

When he steps closer, you can see that there are tears in his eyes as he looks at you from behind all the paint you've put on him.

"Thank you." He gives you a quick kiss on the lips, it's more of a peck only but he doesn't linger long enough to wait for your reaction.

"What was that?" You ask, perplexed and frozen on the spot.

"Affection. You better get used to it." With that he left you there to return to the palace, he only looked back once and saw you still looking at him with that stunned expression and that only made him smile brighter.

•

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?”  Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”

“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

[systlinsideblog]

PART 1

There have been many Ubaras in the history of Gor. Indeed, even today there are many, who rule this city or that land, sometimes alone and sometimes alongside mates. Our own beloved Ubara of Turia is well known as a fair and just lady, and a great patron of the sciences.

But forever when the words “The Great Ubara” are uttered, there will be no doubt as to who they refer to. She came from nowhere, and in her hands she brought power, and it was that very night that the beginning of the time of the Great Burning of the Whips commenced…

-Sansha, scholar of the Tower of Tyra, history division, 537 AGU (After the Great Ubara.) Excerpt from her work “The Great Ubara; the coming of Systlin, the Warrior, Lady of Swords, Lady of Burning Whips, and the ending of the slave culture of Gor.”

   It hurt, the...whatever it had been. One moment, and she had been preparing herself to ride out to hunt wraithen with her Bloodguard, and then there had been the scent of rising Power, sharp as the air before lightning, and the world had gone dark. 

When her senses returned, she had a splendid monster of a headache, and she could see nothing but tall bronzed grass. Her cheek was pressed against the ground, and every joint hurt. 

She blinked, blearily, and the grass came into slightly sharper focus. She was lying prone in a field, that much was clear. 

Systlin made an effort to push herself upright. Her arms trembled and gave out, and she got a mouthful of dirt and grass for her efforts. 

"Pitting hells." She spat dust and tried again, this time managing to rise to her knees. 

The grass rippled in the breeze, empty and endless. She spat more dirt and wiped her mouth on a sleeve. 

Something was niggling at the back of her mind, sending little alarm bells up. Wrong Wrong Wrong Wrong!!!

"Of bloody course something's wrong." She muttered this to herself. "Bloody fuck am I?"

The grass whispered in the breeze, rippling like a sea. She did not know this plain. 

She had walked and ridden through every land in the North, had ridden the southern deserts, had walked the walled gardens of Myr. 

She did not know this plain. 

Her hands dropped to her belt on instinct. The hilts of Ice and her dagger were comfortingly solid. 

Something's wrong something's wrong. 

She got to her feet. The motion was easier than it should have been. She paused, and bounced on her toes a few times, testing. 

Systlin Stellas had spent the majority of her life training her body into a supremely tempered tool. She knew herself well. And she knew, immediately, that her weight was wrong. Wherever she was, the pull of gravity was less than what she had been accustomed to for the last fifty years. 

"Pitting hells."

On the horizon, dust clouds were rising. She shaded her eyes to see, and could pick out dark moving figures, coming her way.

If Systlin had been in any doubt as to the wrongness of this place, the riders approaching her removed it. The riders were men, that was clear enough. But the creatures they were riding, while they resembled horses, very much were not. 

If horses had paws and claws like great cats, eyes set forward in their head, and fangs like a wolf, then perhaps they would look like the creatures the men were riding. 

I am going to flay whoever did this to me alive. 

She held her ground as the riders approached. Their beasts had caught her scent; that was clear enough. 

Perhaps fifteen feet from her, the men pulled their beasts up. They began to circle her, curious. Systlin tracked them, listening to the pad of those great paws in the grass. 

Finally one of the men spoke, and Systlin blinked. Because the words he was saying...the words themselves meant nothing. Systlin had been well educated as a child; she spoke eastern and western Northron fluently, and even the dialect from the Skyfire Reaches. She spoke Rabi almost as well, the less formal clan dialect as well as the formal, stuffy Myran form. (Sura claimed she still had a Northron accent, even after all these years, but also claimed to be fond of the 'exotic' way it made her sound. Systlin, therefore, had never tried too hard to lose it.)

She spoke Siulekean passably well. All in all, Systlin could make herself understood no matter where on Ellinon she found herself. 

And yet, these words were strange. And still, though they meant nothing to her ears, she felt a flicker of Power, and in the back of her mind she heard the words in her own native Northron. 

"Wench!" The taller of the two men, riding a mount of a handsome bay, was looking her up and down in a way that raised her hackles. "Look here! A wench who thinks herself of warrior caste!"

They both laughed. 

"I don't think it." Thirty years on the throne and fifty of dealing with the curse of her Power had given Systlin self control of tempered steel. She kept her voice mild. "I know it." 

She spoke the words in Northron. But the same little tingle of Power rose, and she saw the faces of the men register surprise. She grinned then, showing her teeth. 

"I want," she said, with all the command that an upbringing as a Crown Princess, commanding men and women in war, and thirty years on the throne had given her. "To see a witch." 

They looked at her for a heartbeat, and then as one both men threw their heads back and laughed as if what she had just said was the most wonderful joke. 

"A wench commands!" The man on the gray cackled. "You'll hold your tongue, wench, when spoken to. You are our prize, now." He grinned at her, leering. 

"No." Systlin said, voice level. "I will not, and am not. And if you call me 'wench' again, I will cut your tongue out of your head and make you wear it as a necklace." 

More laughter. "She's fire! I may keep her, Sathak, and break her to my collar. She looks strong; she could do much work in my wagon."

Steel whispered against wood and leather. Systlin shifted into a stance as easily as she breathed, sword and dagger drawn. 

"Wench!" The rider on the gray again. "Put those down; they are men's things. You are our captive now, and you will submit or die."

Systlin didn't move. But she grinned, showing her teeth again. 

They circled, closer and closer. Systlin waited. 

The hindquarters of the gray bunched. By the time it had sprung, Systlin was moving. 

They were nearly as fast as wraithen. Nearly, but not quite; the spring was much the same as the kind a wraithen would use to ambush prey. Systlin dropped low, and Ice swept up. The resistance of flesh, and then she was rolling back to her feet in a low crouch as the horse-creature went down in a screaming pile, its back legs tangling in its own spilled guts. 

A roar of rage from the second man, even as the one on the dying gray screamed in pain as his beast landed on his legs. The second rider roared in rage again, and his arm drew back and snapped forward. 

Systlin didn't bother to avoid the lance; it struck her in the shoulder, smarting slightly; it would probably bruise, but she didn't care. It glanced off of the wraithen scale armor hidden beneath her leather jerkin, and spun to the ground. 

"I told you." Systlin hissed this through her teeth. 

The man drew out a bola, and began to twirl it. Systlin narrowed her eyes, and despite her lingering headache reached inward. 

A flicker of blue, and the leather of the bola burst into flame. The rider screamed again, but it was too late; fed by Systlin's will, the flames spread from the weapon to his clothing even as the bola crumbled to ash. In but a moment, he was a pillar of flame, screaming piteously as flesh melted and hair burned, until at last rider and beast alike were engulfed. 

It did not take long for the witch-fire to eat flesh and bone to ash. Systlin banished the flames then. 

Her head throbbed. She should not have called on her Power so much so quickly, but she'd been angry. 

There was still moaning coming from under the downed, slain beast. She made her way over. 

The rider of the gray's legs were trapped. He was struggling desperately and fruitlessly to free himself, and when he saw her coming he spat a long string of vicious curses at her. 

Systlin ignored these as she stood over him and cleaned the blood from Ice. Sheathed it. She did not sheathe her dagger. 

"SLEEN! Whore! Witch! Misbegotten sleen spawn!"

"I am one of those." Systlin agreed. She crouched over him, near his head. "And I made a promise to you." She raised her knife, and smiled. "You should not have called me 'wench."

 Systlin had, rather than string the man's tongue on a thong, simply set it on his chest. He would likely bleed out or suffocate on his own blood; she didn't really care. 

She cleaned her dagger on the flank of the dead beast as he moaned and gurgled, trying to breathe through the blood in his mouth. 

She squinted, looking at the distant horizon in the direction the riders had come from. 

There was a cloud of dust there, some miles away. She had seen such clouds before, during her time with Sura's riders; it was the sort of dust cloud that came from many animals moving together. 

She began to walk towards the dust. 

It was a long walk. But then, Systlin ran ten miles every morning before she ate breakfast; she was well used to long marches. The lesser effort required to walk in this lower gravity meant that six miles felt like far less. 

She wished, all the same, that she had Siatch with her. A proper horse, not those fanged monsters. 

At last, on the horizon she saw the slow shifting of a great heard of creatures; as she drew closer she could make out what appeared to be wagons. 

Riders on those strange horse-things were circling back and forth and milling around. Some appeared to be playing. Her sharp ears caught the distant sound of laughter. 

As she drew nearer, several of the riders apparently spotted her; the peeled off from the camp and headed towards her at speed. Systlin kept walking, doing a mental count. 

Ten thousand. Perhaps more. She squinted at the wagons, spreading across the plains as far as she could see. 

She kept walking, unhurried, unworried, even as the riders closed. Ice and her dagger were a comforting weight on her belt. 

She smiled to herself suddenly, remembering Sura's consternation when she'd announced her intention to go to the Iron Mountain and the sabbashin. 

"It is suicide!" Sura had said, fearful. "No one comes back from there, beloved, with their mind their own. The Master of Knives takes them, and makes them his creatures, body and soul. I could not bear that for you." 

"Sura." She had smoothed Sura's hair. "You forget what I am." 

Breaker. 

She'd brought down the Iron Mountain. She'd Broken the walls of Myr. She had the power, she knew, to level this whole bloody camp if she so chose. She could feel it curling in her blood, cold and eager, a promise of sheer glorious ecstatic destruction. 

She kept walking, even as the riders on those strange beasts closed on her, lances ready. 

 Kamchak and I were conversing over a midday meal of bosk liver and cheese when the furor at the edge of the camp began. The girl Elizabeth, sulking in the corner of the wagon, looked up at once. There was the sound of a kaiila screaming in pain, voices shouting, and there! The ring of steel.

Kamchak and I were on our feet and running in but a moment, but I was puzzled; the Tuchuks were unruly, it was true, and small skirmishes often broke out, but these were usually settled in ritual combat fought on foot, not with kaiila. This left a raid, and who would ever be foolish enough to raid the main tribe of the Tuchuks? Such was certain death.

Yet, even as we ran along with many other men, there was another pained scream from an injured kaiila, and a cry of pain from a man. The smell of charred flesh drifted on the air, and a plume of smoke. There was a great confusion of shouting, and I could not make out any single voice in the furor.

We came around the corner of a wagon. Now I could see down the wide grassy lane that ran down the middle of the camp, to the source of all the furor. I expected to see a war band, or even a whole attacking tribe.

I did not expect what I did see, which was a woman.

She was standing over the corpses of three kaiila and at the least count seven riders. She held a sword in her right hand, and a long dagger in her left. Her legs were spread, planted into a fighting man's stance. I noted that she stood with excellent balance. 

Her hair was dark, and her eyes quite blue. The hair was pulled back into a plait down her back, and the eyes were cold. There was a fey light in them, and I noticed to my great unease that the corpses of two of the slain riders at her feet were gently smoking. 

She was splashed and spattered with blood, and did not seem to notice this or care. 

She wore a leather tunic, and trousers of wool. Her boots were leather, and fit close to the calves; I noted, that the shape of calf and thigh was sturdy, muscular. Her forearms were lean, wiry, corded with more muscle than I had before seen on a woman. 

The slaves and Tuchuk riders and dour Tuchuk women were silent. To my abject shock, though the Tuchuk warriors greatly outnumbered her and stood with weapons drawn, they were hanging back. 

As I looked past her, I saw at least three more dead kaiila and more corpses of warriors further from camp. 

The woman spoke. In the oddest way, though the sounds she made were gibberish to my ears, understanding came nonetheless. 

"I said." Her voice was cold, and commanding. "That I want to speak to someone of power. And for the fifth time, I am no captive, or slave, and the first hand to get near my ass is forfeit." She jerked her chin at the corpses near her feet, as if to emphasize her point. "And if you keep insisting on doing things the hard way, I will be quite happy to kill every bloody man in this bloody shithole and burn this camp down around your ears, I swear on  the Lady's name. I have had a very bad day, and it would honestly be a pleasure. But if you can help me to get home, we'll forget this whole unpleasant day ever happened."

It occurred to me that she was attractive, if far too muscular for Gorean tastes. 

"Who is this wench!" Cried Kamchak, "Who thinks herself a warrior?"

The blue eyes of the woman darted to him, cold and furious. She should have, were she sane, been terrified at the looming mass of Tuchuk warriors, fierce and scarred, that were gathering before her. Each was gripping his lance, but the caution of their brothers had spread and they hung back to a man and looked to Kamchak.

She did not look frightened. She looked angry, but the anger was wrong. I am used to the anger of women; it burns hot and passionate and rules them. This look, though, was one of cold and measured anger, restrained and absolute.

"The last man to call me that," her voice was low, and despite her sex the hairs on my neck and arms stood up in warning, "Drowned in his own blood after I tore his tongue out. What is wrong with you people?"

"Kamchak," said another of the Tuchuks nearby, his voice low in warning. "She is but a woman, but she has killed fifteen of our warriors, and thirteen trained kaiila. She is a sorceress." He pointed to the smoking corpses of riders. "She can summon fire from air, and fights like nothing I have seen. We should fetch Kutaituchik." 

Kamchak looked back up at the woman, eyes narrow. She met his gaze, fearless, chin up and eyes narrow. 

"What are you called, sorceress?" Kamchak asked. 

"Systlin Stellas." Her voice was still cold. 

"Very well. We will take her to Kutaituchik. Sheathe your weapons, woman, and follow me." 

She eyed the gathered warriors, and then spun her sword. It was a neat little motion, well practiced. I knew it; I used a similar motion to flick blood from the blade of my sword before I sheathed it. This was, indeed, precisely what she now did, but the speed of it was startling.

The long knife and sword slid away into sheaths of rich leather of impeccable quality. The fittings of each were gold. I saw more than a few Tuchuk warriors eyeing them greedily, and thought that the warrior who claimed them would strut them about for a very long time.

“What I said holds.” She said, coolly. “Any hand laid on me, I take off at the wrist.”

Kamchak laughed. “You’ve fire, woman, I’ll grant you. Almost enough to make me think it would be worth the effort of collaring you.”

“If you’re so keen to die,” She said, her voice colder still. “Go on and try.”

He laughed again, but his eyes were narrow. “Fifteen warriors?” He asked.

Systlin raised her eyebrows.

“Hadrak says that you killed fifteen warriors of the Tuchuk.”

“He’s mistaken.” Systlin’s voice was still level.

“Ah!” A look of victory in Kamchak’s eyes.

“I killed seventeen.” A slight pause. “I am assuming those outriders on the bay and the gray were of your tribe?”

Hadrak hissed in fury. “Oman and Hadar!”

“Yes, I thought so.”

“Oman was my brother! Kamchak…”

“I said we would take her to Kutaituchik.” Kamchak said. “And that is what we will do. No doubt Kutaituhcik will see your case, but she may be given to the brothers or kinsman of any of the others she has slain to be punished as well.”

“Will I?” Systlin sounded almost amused, and I realized that she was of course quite mad.

“Of course you will. This way.”

“Yes.” Her voice dripped scorn. “Of course I will.” But she followed, and around her closed the ranks of the Tuchuk warriors at her back. She was now quite trapped; even the greatest of warriors could not hope to fight free of the main camp of the Tuchuks; they boasted three thousand warriors of great strength and skill.

I wondered if she would be collared, or simply killed. She was attractive, if too strongly built, but a master could monitor activity and diet to remedy such things. She was, no doubt, fiery and strong-willed, but such women, it is said, make the greatest and most passionate slaves once broken.

Ah, well. The only way to find out was to follow, and so I did.

[swampythesweetsketch]

so who wins the fight??

Kai pulled his arms back.

Kai: Jay, I'm serious.

Jay: SO. AM. I.

Jay bolted forward, his hooves bursting with light.

Kai took a step back, then ran. Not really running, more like hobbling due to his broken heel.

Jay: GET. BACK HERE!!!

As quick as Kai was, Jay was closing the gap very fast.

Kai hiked up his dress and hopped up a slanted wall.

Jay tried to hop- but he collided with the wall. He tried reaching Kai but the Red Ninja has climbed a considerable height.

Jay: GET DOWN!

Kai shot a fireball, making Jay back away.

Kai: Jay- you're delusional! This isn't like you!

Jay tried again to hop up the wall, this time anticipating the jump and frantically reaching up.

Kai tried kicking Jay's hands away, but that was his mistake. Jay latched onto his ankle and pulled. Hard.

Kai: JAY-!

Kai slid down, falling onto the ground in a loud "OOMPH".

Jay turned swiftly, a back leg sizzling with electricity raised to slam Kai's back.

Kai looked and rolled away from the kick, standing up wobbly.

Kai: Jay, please! Stop!

Jay didn't listen, letting out a angry scream as he rushed to stomp Kai again.

Kai drew his fire back up, throwing it to the ground in front of Jay.

Jay fumbled, the hot floor against his hooves was painful. But he still pushed.

Jay leaned his chest forward, a hand raised with lightning.

Jay swung it at Kai, and Kai barely had time to bring up his own hand.

The mix of elements fizzled, they yelled in pain as fire and lightning burned their hands.

Jay drew back first, if so to raise his other hand to try to get in another hit.

Kai: STOP!

Kai backed up, he reached down to his broken heel and tore it off.

Kai then chucked the heel at Jay.

Kai: DO NOT MAKE ME THROW THE OTHER ONE.

Kai considered taking off the other one.

Jay: SURE! TAKE IT OFF LIKE YOU TOOK OFF ON ME IN NYAD'S TURF!

Jay tromped to Kai, twisting around and bucking at him.

Kai: I didn't mean to!

Jay: Sure you didn't! You never mean to leave me behind!

Kai backed away in hurried shuffles until he was against the wall he was trying to dig out of.

He started banging against it in a panic.

Kai: COLE? COLE!!! COLE, HELP!!!

He barely heard anything on the other side.

Kai: COLE!

He suddenly felt a sharp pain slam down on his back.

Jay had Kai pinned to the floor.

Kai was screaming in pain.

Kai: GE- GET OFF!!!

Jay: I want you to know something.

He dragged his hoof down Kai's back, making the Red Ninja hiss as electricity sizzled his back.

Jay: You've been mocking me and my predicament since the very beginning. And not just this, but my jokes, my looks, my insecurities, ME BEING WITH NYA, MY FEARS, MY CONCERNS.

Kai: J-Jay st-

Kai could feel the weight and pain collect down to his waist. Jay applied more pressure.

Jay: And I'm sick of you being the worst friend on the planet!

Jay drew up his hoof.

Kai gasped in relief as the pain receded-

And then the hoof was brought back down. Hard. Right on his ribs.

Jay: So do me this little favor when we get out.

Jay pushed Kai over, the Red Ninja gasping in pain.

Jay: Don't ever talk to me after this. Like. Ever.

Kai stared up in horror as Jay stood over him.

Jay was crying.

The wall shuffled.

And it began moving apart.

Kai shut his eyes and breathed.

He wasn't going to die.

[songofclarity]

Nie HuaiSang shouting "Brother XiChen, behind you!!!" is similar to someone shouting "Fire!" in a crowded room. Both actions can be dangerous if spoken in false alarm, but Nie HuaiSang insisted he did see the smoke because he did see Jin GuangYao did move.

Jin GuangYao never refuted that claim. Instead, his complaint was that he hadn't acted, that he hadn't attacked. Yet.

Because when it comes to Jin GuangYao, where there is smoke, there is fire. Nie HuaiSang knows it best.

And if Jin GuangYao had already moved, should Nie HuaiSang have then waited a moment longer until he saw Jin GuangYao actually hold a weapon?

Remember Nie MingJue? Who felt threatened by Jin GuangYao until he didn't, because Jin GuangYao manipulated and lied to him by pretending to be nice and gentle and docile, because Jin GuangYao insisted he now saw the light and would do the right thing and do as he promised and also that he was here to help play some healing tunes like a good little brother, and then slowly poisoned Nie MingJue to death instead?

Jin GuangYao acting docile and gentle and defeated at Guanyin Temple should raise a whole bunch of red flags. Jin GuangYao at his most pitiful is when he is the most dangerous. If he is underestimated, that means he will have the upper hand. People die when he has the upper hand.

Remember Wen RuoHan? Incredibly powerful, fast-as-lightning Wen RuoHan who was killed with ease by Meng Yao? Jin GuangYao has had far more training than Meng Yao. Over fifteen years more training and well over fifteen years more experience in killing people and getting away with it.

If Jin GuangYao drew his weapon, either Lan XiChen or Nie HuaiSang would be dead if that meant Jin GuangYao could escape alive. After having tried to kill off the whole cultivation world and the evidence of all the innocent commonfolk he ordered murdered literally coming out of the framework of Guanyin Temple, he will be executed for sure. The murder of that one Jin cultivator in front of Nie MingJue looks like a joke compared to this hot mess of a situation with its half dozen witnesses.

Nie HuaiSang states with persistence that he saw Jin GuangYao move. He saw the smoke.

Jin GuangYao never claimed Nie HuaiSang saw wrong. He moved. What he throws back at Lan XiChen, who had said he would show no mercy if Jin GuangYao acted again, by asking, "But did I act?"

Because while Jin GuangYao had moved, he hadn't acted yet. He hadn't attacked yet.

But Nie HuaiSang knows Jin GuangYao. If Nie HuaiSang waited until he saw the fire, it would already have been too late for him to speak.

Which is why Jin GuangYao speaks with loathing, "How unexpected for me to fall in your hands like this..." Because the oriole caught the mantis mid-jump. Nie HuaiSang yelled, "Fire!" when he only saw the smoke. Nie HuaiSang cried, "Brother XiChen, behind you!!!" when he only saw Jin GuangYao move.

And Jin GuangYao, for the first time, lost his chance to act on his upper hand. Of course he's pissed and angry at Nie HuaiSang.

But that doesn't make Nie HuaiSang wrong, much less evil, for doing it.

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 15

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.8k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

"So, today's your day, what do we do?" Millie asked as I was driving.

Once again, I had picked her up at her job and I glanced at her, noticing her head was leaned on the bench and she was staring at me. i sent her a small smile and barely had time to see her raise her eyebrows before I put my eyes back on the road.

It was only the second day of our week and I was already feeling better. When I woke up, I felt my heart twist in my chest because of how nervous I was but I decided to focus on the things I'd do with Millie later in the day and I felt better. If I had known someone like Millie could bring me my smile back and would be so entertaining, I would have tried to get closer to her before, even if she annoyed the shit out of me.

"I don't like that look." Millie continued, making me chuckle.

"Don't worry, it's nothing extreme or bad. And after that, we can go out for ice cream, what do you say?"

She remained silent for a while and I finally parked the car and undid my belt.

"Mm, I'm getting out of my routine for you, Horan." she pointed out, her eyebrows raised again but this time, in a suspicious way. "So it better not be golf or any other sport."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to work out or run." I reassured her, my lips curling in an amused smile. "Although I admit I'm quite curious of how good you are at golf."

"I suck. Just like all the other sports."

I chuckled and she followed me upstairs. I told her to wait for me in the living room and disappeared in the hall to reach my bedroom. When I came back, her lips parted slightly and she let out a low chuckle.

"You don't really expect me to play guitar, do you?"

"My student of today canceled. I thought it could be a nice thing to do together." I replied, shrugging a shoulder. "I can show you a few things, I'm not bad of a teacher you know?"

She stared at me for a few seconds and finally moved her head and rolled her eyes, a smile spreading on her lips. "Alright, but don't laugh at me!"

"I promise."

She ended up being actually quite good even if sometimes, she didn't hold the strings hard enough, and after about half an hour, she could play a few chords. I was quite impressed at how fast she was learning and it made me want to take her as a regular student.

"Okay, bring your fingers up." I said gently, staring at her hand. "No, here."

I moved her fingers up, letting them slide on the string, and pressed my finger against hers to help before placing her other fingers on the other strings.

"Okay, perfect."

She moved her head down sliding, staring at her fingers as she played, and my lips curled a bit on the left when she started nibbling on her bottom lip. It was cute how focused she was and it was a great quality when you wanted to learn just about anything.

"Niall, help me, I feel like it's not the sound it should do."

I blinked a few times, getting out of my thoughts to look back at her fingers again. I moved one of them lightly down and pressed on it but this time, I kept it on hers as she played. She stuck her tongue out as if it could help her concentrate and I chuckled low. She didn't notice, too focused on what she was doing, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"Fuck yes, I got it!" her eyes illuminated and a smile drew itself on her lips as I blinked a few times.

"Okay do it again." I proposed, taking my hand away from hers so she could do it by herself.

She did what I asked and I smiled too when I realized she had actually succeeded it. After an hour and a half. she could play an easy song and I leaned against the couch, my eyebrows raised.

"Wow, you're good, Mill!" I exclaimed as she grinned, getting her back straight with pride.

"You're an amazing teacher, Niall!" she just replied. "How much do you charge to do this once a week?"

"For you? Nothing. It's free."

Her head tilted and her smile turned into a fond one. "Thank you."

I liked thinking that we would spend more time together, and knowing we would always have a specific day and time to meet. I knew that both our heartbreaks were going to be rough times to go through and I liked that we had each other. I knew that at the end of the week I was supposed to make a choice on who I wanted to date between Grace and Summer, but no matter who I was going to pick, there was no way I was going to stop spending time with Millie.

"So let's schedule that every tuesday evening?"

Millie smiled again and nodded firmly. "I'm always here."

---

We walked slowly while eating our ice cream and I breathed in deeply, enjoying the warm air of spring. I put my free hand in my pocket but didn't dare to break the comfortable silence between us. I just kept glancing at Millie from time to time, trying not to bump into anything. She seemed lost in her thoughts and I started wondering if she was thinking about Louis, wondering where he was, and what he was doing. The more I looked at her, the more I realized I wanted her to be happy. If I knew anyone who deserved to be, it was definitely her, and it was a shame that she was so sad and that no one could do anything about it. I felt so powerless and it made me think about my own pain. I shut my eyes for a few seconds, trying to push the sadness deeper in my stomach and took an other bite of ice cream as if it could bury it under.

"You're quiet."

I turned my head to look at my friend who was raising her eyebrows.

"You too."

"Were you thinking about Grace?" she asked in a low tone.

"Not really." I shrugged a shoulder. "Were you thinking about Louis?"

It took her a few seconds to answer but she looked away. "Maybe."

"I want to tell you that you shouldn't think about him, but I know it's not an easy thing to do."

"He's probably with his girlfriend that I don't even know the name of." she added low. Her voice was so sad that I felt my heart sink in my chest.

"Eleanor." I told her in a very low tone. "That's her name."

Millie stopped walking for half a second but then just continued. It made me swallow hard, wondering if maybe I should have kept this information for myself. It's not like she was never going to find out anyway and with the sparkles I had seen in Louis' eyes when he was talking to me about her, I knew she was going to stay for a long time.

Millie pressed her lips together for a few seconds and finally sighed, licking her lips nervously.

"I told you she had a royal name."

It was not the thing I thought she'd say and I chuckled low, remembering that she had actually mentioned that before and that it turned out to be true.

"How long does it take to get over someone?"

This time, my friend stopped walking and turned her head my way. I stopped too and turned around to face her and when she took a step closer, my lips parted slightly.

"It depends."

"It's not the first time I have my heart broken, but damn, this time hurts like hell." I explained, shaking my head. "I know she came back and said she wanted be with me again and that she regretted leaving me, but I can't trust her. She ruined everything between us and honestly, Millie, I am so mad at her. I think I'm even angrier now that she's back, because she literally broke my heart only to come back, as if that's what it took to make her realize that she loved me. As if she couldn't see what she was losing before she pushed me away."

Millie stayed there motionless, just listening to me ranting about my ex girlfriend. I sighed and turned around quickly, throwing what was left of my ice cream in the nearest trash can, and my friend followed me, doing the same. I was about to leave again when she grabbed my wrist and I quickly held my breath.

"She couldn't see it. Clearly. She made a mistake, that's for sure." Millie pointed out with a nod. "It doesn't mean she doesn't love you."

"But that means she could leave again at any time. That means I will always be scared that she'll just break my heart again." I argued. "I'm not sure it's worth it."

"You should write that on the list."

I raised my eyebrows and quickly nodded. We found a bench and sad down together. Millie took a pen out of her purse and handed it to me as I slipped the paper out of my back pocket. I stared at it for a while, re-reading what I wrote about the two girls I was supposed to choose from, but I was not sure how to words things.

'I can't trust her' is the first thing I quickly scribbled before sighing and adding 'she broke my heart' right under it. I was about to fold the paper again but Millie gently placed her hand on it, making me look up in her eyes. She moved a bit closer, so close I could see the golden lines that looked like lightning bolts around her pupils.

"I think you need to also write something in the 'pros', don't you think?" she whispered.

I stared at her a few more seconds and finally wrote the first good thing under Grace's name. I could feel my hand shake very lightly as I moved my pen on the paper and when I was done, I thought I'd feel lighter but I actually felt even worse.

'I love her'

----

"I'm fucking starving." I pointed out when we pushed on the door of a small restaurant.

Millie laughed and raised her eyebrows at me, following me as I walked up to the counter. "When are you not?"

"Hey, it's not like I eat all the time or anything!"

"You could have cooked for us tonight!" she argued, ignoring my comment. "You're amazing at cooking but you're bringing me here! Or maybe you only cook for the pretty girls you want to date, is that it?"

Her lips curled into an amused smile and I knew she was joking but there was no way I was going to let her believe that I wouldn't cook for her, I raised my eyebrows too and moved my chin down, staring at her.

"I'll cook for you tomorrow, It's a promise."

It seemed to satisfy her and she sent me a big smile before nodding. The waitress brought us to a table and I suddenly lost my smile. On the table next to ours was sitting a pretty brunette and I swallowed hard when her brown eyes met mine. She seemed surprised too and I couldn't stop looking at her as she got up and sent me a small smile.

"Hey, Niall." she murmured softly, bringing her shoulders up and closer to her cheeks. "I didn't know you came here sometimes... I... I'm happy to see you."

"Grace, hi."

It took me a few seconds to glance quickly at who was eating with her and I noticed her best friend Rose, sitting awkwardly in front of her. I felt my whole body relax suddenly and at the same time, my heart jumped in my chest. If she had been on a date with an other guy, it would have been easier. I could have put a cross on her and not be so torn about how I felt. I wouldn't have to ask myself if I wanted to try with her again, and if it was worth risking having my heart broken a second time by the same girl. If she had been with an other man, I could have just turned around and left after telling her to 'fuck off'. But she was here with a friend and I knew it was totally platonic between them.

I got out of my thoughts when she moved closer to kiss my cheek and without thinking, I moved my upper body back. She looked hurt but she just sent me a sad smile.

"How are you?" she asked before turning around to look at my best friend. "Hey Millie."

"I'm... I'm alright."

A silence came between us but this time, it was uncomfortable. I could feel my heart thump hard against my rib cage and I swallowed hard, wondering what else I should do or say but before I could think of anything, Millie moved closer to me and smiled.

"Actually, we were not going to eat here, we wanted to take out."

"Oh." Grace glanced at her friend and finally shrugged, putting her gaze on me again. "Okay well, call me?"

"Will do."

"It was nice seeing you again, Grace!" Millie replied, grabbing my arm and bringing me back to the counter.

We remained silent until the waitress came back and my friend told her we were going to get take out instead as I remained silent. She ordered for both of us and the whole time, I stared at a spot on the counter to make sure I wouldn't just look at my ex girlfriend again.

I let out a loud sigh when we walked out and breathed in as if it was the first time I could do it in a few hours. Millie wrapped her arms around one of mine and leaned her chin on it to look up at me.

"Are you okay?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." I let out, completely confused. "I just want to go home."

Millie nodded very slowly, her chin rubbing gently on the sleeve of my shirt, and she squeezed my arm tight before letting go. I was not sure how I was feeling. I still loved Grace, there was no doubt about it, and seeing her again did something in my stomach, but I also knew that the love I had for her was different now. It was not intense and obsessed like it used to be. It was a sad and resigned love and I was not sure I liked it. I was starting to think that maybe, letting go of Grace and the feelings I had for her was the best thing to do to spare my heart. Maybe it was only because I had just seen her but I felt like going back with her would be a mistake and I was not sure I wanted to make it. I wanted to say that I had given this relationship as many chances as possible but I couldn't act like everything could be forgiven and forgotten because it definitely couldn't.

I would still play the game with the lists for the rest of the week but the more I thought about it, the less sure I was that I would be ready to pick a girl at the end of the week.

I noticed Millie glancing at me from time to time and it made me feel better. It was great to have someone close to me that actually cared. I had friends and family, of course, but with Millie, it was different. I could read her and I knew she could read me. We were going through the same thing and only her really knew how I was feeling at that moment.

"Can we just go back to that amazing friendship week together?" I asked, raising my nose up as we got closer to our apartment.

"Of course, why do you think I said we'd just bring the food home instead of staying there?"

I turned to her, my lips curling on the left. "Thanks for that."

"Hey, it's cool, I'm always here for you."

[whumpwriterforlife]

Hello dear bean! Could I please have an order of Accidentally Hurt by Friend for the bthb please :3

Why, yes you could! Here is your order of Accidentally Hurt by Friend with our boy Nyx.

Accidentally Hurt by Friend

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius, Luche Lazarus, Pelna Khara & Libertus Ostium

Whumpee: Nyx Ulric

Word Count: 1848

Warnings: None? Violence, battle situations in a war

Can also be found on ao3 here

---

The smell of copper and smoke was strong in the air as Nyx warped around the battlefield, striking down MTs and daemonic insects wherever he could. He was starting to feel the burn in his muscles and the impending fatigue but he kept going. He had to. They were losing ground fast as more Imperial dropships arrived with more MTs and their pesky pet animals inside.

It was not the Saturday Nyx had hoped for.

“Crowe, what’s the status over there?” Nyx called into the comms as he landed from yet another warp to sink his kukris into the neck of an unsuspecting MT. It hissed and spasmed, miasma leaking out of it but Nyx paid no attention to it as he moved onto his next target.

“We are down two mages, we’re doing this as fast as we can!” Crowe’s strained voice hissed into the comms. “Five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes,” Nyx muttered under his breath. It was doable. Nyx gritted his teeth as he threw his kukri at a wide arc over a horde of ahriman to warp. A powerful lightning spell was enough to take down most of them, and those that stayed up were easily dispatched with a few well-placed kukris. There was a loud, almost deafening roar somewhere to Nyx’s left and he spun on his heels to see a behemoth being dropped from one of the ships, alongside with a couple of coeurls.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nyx groused, exasperation clear in his tone. “Luche, you seeing this shit?”

“I see it, Hero, I’m sending Pelna and a couple of others towards you,” Luche responded soon, as calm and collected as ever. “Don’t do anything stupid, you hear me?”

Nyx laughed at that, his lips twitching into a brief smirk as he sprinted towards the behemoth. “I would never.”

“I swear to Ramuh I will put your ass on gate duty for a month if you get yourself hurt doing something idiotic again Ulric,” Luche told him, his voice almost a growl.

Nyx rolled his eyes. “I won’t do anything too stupid, scout’s honor.”

“Don’t worry, Luche, I got his back,” Pelna’s voice crackled to life as he joined the conversation.

Nyx glanced around the battlefield and saw Pelna and three other glaives heading his way from the opposite direction. He gave them a quick wave before he threw himself into warp and at the behemoth, tuning out the rest of that conversation.

The behemoth was pissed.

Actually, pissed was a huge understatement, Nyx realized as he warped around the beast and barely avoided getting stomped on. He got in a few strikes here and there but he couldn’t land any critical hits, not with the way the beast kept moving and trying to snap him in half. Nyx did his best to keep his distance from the behemoth’s mouth because while it was full of razor sharp teeth that would shred him to pieces with ease, it also smelled foul enough for it to be a miracle that he was still standing after the first whiff of it. Nyx hid behind a large boulder to catch his breath for a moment.

“Need a hand, Hero?” Pelna asked from behind him.

“Shiva— Don’t sneak up on people like that!” Nyx exclaimed as he spun around to look at his friend. The behemoth growled somewhere on the other side of the boulder and Nyx interpreted that as the behemoth agreeing with him. “Are you trying to get yourself stabbed?”

Pelna chuckled softly as he peered at the behemoth from the corner of the boulder. “I wasn’t even being quiet, you need to pay more attention to your surroundings, Nyx.”

“I pay attention,” Nyx muttered under his breath as he moved to stand next to Pelna. “Where did you lose the three that were with you?”

“They went to take care of the coeurls,” Pelna told him as he procured daggers from the armiger.

Nyx nodded before stepping out of their cover. He gave Pelna a playful smile right as the behemoth spotted him and started rushing closer with an enraged roar. “You ready to take this thing down?”

“No theatrics,” Pelna shook his head at him. Nyx gave him a mock bow, hand over his heart before he was on the go again and heading for the behemoth. Pelna rolled his eyes and warped after him. “Show-off.”

The behemoth didn’t go down easily. It fought them tooth and nail, giving Nyx and Pelna a new variety of bruises and scrapes to complain about but after one set of kukris to the neck and another set of daggers to the spine, the beast finally went lax. Pelna dropped down to his knees, hands on the ground as he heaved breathlessly. Nyx wasn’t far behind, hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. A day of fighting in the frontlines had taken a toll on his body. He would crash so hard in his bunk when the day was over.

There was no break in sight for them yet, however, when a group of five or so MTs found them. Nyx groaned as he straightened back up and offered Pelna a hand to pull him back to his feet. He gave Pelna a tired smile as he flipped his kukri and prepared to warp. “Here we go again.”

Nyx materialized in front of the closest MT and stabbed the kukri through its chest plate. He was losing power behind his attacks. It wasn’t good. Nyx cursed as he ducked under a sword strike and sent a fire spell at the offending MT, taking it and the MT right next to it down. Nyx allowed himself a moment of satisfaction watching the MTs go down in flames before he warped to the fourth MT.

What Nyx failed to see was that Pelna was already there, his hands crackling with lightning magic. Nyx’s kukris sunk through weak spots in the MT’s armor. Pelna shouted his name, his voice tinted with panic, but by then it was too late and the lightning spell hit Nyx full force through the dissolving MT.

Nyx’s lips parted in a scream but only a strained groan came out as his muscles contracted with burning intensity that left him unable to breathe. The kukris slipped from his grasp as he hit the ground. His ears rang. The lightning spell burned, hot and ferocious as it ravaged through his body. It was the only thing he was aware of.

Then there were hands on him. Hands that forced him to uncurl and lie on his back. This time Nyx let out a ragged scream.

“Shit, Nyx!” Pelna’s voice had a panicked tint to it. There was a shuffling sound, followed by glass breaking. Nyx vaguely realized it was a potion as the pain faded the tiniest bit and he could gasp in a breath. “Nyx is down! I need some help here!”

Nyx made a pained noise in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered open. Pelna was crouched over him, one hand on Nyx’s chest and the other on the comms. His eyes were wide with worry, his hood pulled back to reveal his face. Nyx wanted to tell him he was okay but he was barely managing to get air into his lungs. Speaking was out of the question.

“Stay with me, Nyx, keep your eyes open,” Pelna told him. “Lib is coming, he has an elixir. Just hang on.”

Nyx gave a tiny nod, the most he managed with the way he was hurting. He felt like he was barely awake, like he could slip away at any moment but Pelna wanted him to hang on. So he tried. The elixir would help. Normal potions weren’t good for magic induced injuries, they just took off the edge, but elixir would help more. Nyx’s eyes slowly started sliding shut.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” Pelna exclaimed and patted Nyx on the cheek with maybe a little more force than necessary. “Eyes open, you hear me?”

“You suck,” Nyx wheezed as he squinted at Pelna, the words barely above a whisper.

Pelna let out a laugh, his hand shifting to squeeze Nyx’s shoulder reassuringly. “Love you too, Nyx.”

Nyx muttered an incoherent response that was lost as Libertus skidded to a stop next to them and broke the elixir over Nyx. Nyx’s eyes slid shut, a relieved groan leaving his lips as the elixir worked to heal the worst of his injuries. He could finally breathe again.

“What the hell happened?” Libertus demanded.

“I hit him with a lightning spell,” Pelna said, his voice marred with guilt. “I was trying to take out an MT but then Nyx warped right behind it and I couldn’t see him until it was too late.”

Nyx blindly reached for Pelna and after a moment found his arm. “It happens, we’re both tired and not at our best. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Pelna opened his mouth to reply but a rumbling sound from the sky drew their attention. They could see a mix of fire and lightning in the clouds, forming into a storm. Pelna shook his head softly and grabbed Nyx by the arm, pulling it over his shoulder. “Time to go, looks like the mages got the storm going.”

Nyx didn’t resist as Libertus moved in to support him from the other side and they pulled him to his feet. He could still feel the residual aches and pains from the lightning and the added support was most likely the only reason he didn’t end up crashing straight back down. Pelna and Libertus had to have been worried about him because they didn’t even crack jokes at how they had to support him.

They ended up waiting out the magic storm in some ruins before they made their way back to the base. It took them an hour to get back but at least the storm had taken care of the majority of the enemy. At the base, it didn’t take even a minute for Libertus and Pelna to drag Nyx into the infirmary and unceremoniously dump him onto one of the beds. Nyx had complained about it — of course he had, it was expected of him at this point — but he had been given no options. They didn’t leave him alone though, and even Crowe joined them after some time. Nyx wasn’t sure if they were worried or if they just stayed there to make sure he didn’t try to slip out unnoticed but he supposed it didn’t matter all that much in the end. He appreciated the company more than they knew.

When they eventually got home a few days later, Luche got Nyx and Pelna both two weeks on gate watch. It was his way of showing he had been concerned for them, and happy to have them both back in one piece. Or maybe he was just a huge jerk, Nyx couldn’t exactly brush that option aside.

[whimperwoods]

Part 13 of Gozukk and Anna

Gozukk calms down from his nightmare. Anna learns something new.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery, tw: past abuse, tw: PTSD

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping, @winedark-whump

****

Anna’s legs were shaking as she followed Gozukk to a set of straw-filled targets and watched him string a bow. She stayed out of his reach, shrinking back and wondering what kind of a fool she was, following her new master while he was still upset.

But then again, he talked like he wasn’t her master, at all.

He’d invited her here, held open the tent flap for her, but now it was like she wasn’t even here. He was focused intently on what he was doing, not sparing her a glance as he tested the bowstring and grabbed a set of semi-blunted arrows.

She backed up farther, out of his way, as he found a spot for himself at a decent range from the target he’d chosen.

His first several shots were lightning fast, and she felt shivers run through her as they thunked into the target almost at random, making satisfying sounds but sticking out near the edges of the target, one too far left and the next too far right, thunk, thunk, thunk, like Gozukk just needed to shoot, not to hit the center.

Foolish. This was foolish. She knew better. She knew men didn’t keep their anger tightly focused, knew it splattered out around them and splashed over her, but she also knew that being too obvious about trying to hide, now that she’d been fool enough to follow, was an equally dangerous proposition.

His breathing was still a little ragged, emotional and loud, and she realized only when a quiet growl broke from him that he was holding back noises, perhaps shouts, perhaps more of those growls.

She crouched down, trying to be small. Leaving would make him angry, especially if he didn’t know where she’d gone. But all of a sudden, she couldn’t stand to be out in the open, not like this, not with a weapon in Gozukk’s hands and what kind of fool was she? She shuddered again, her whole body reacting to the idea.

Gradually, Gozukk’s pace slowed, and then his breathing, and the shots, now steady and less frantic, drew closer and closer to the center of the target. Finally, he shot the last two arrows with slow and careful aim, breathing with his motions and hitting the center ring and then the center dot.

He lowered the bow and turned toward her.

“Thanks,” he said, managing an almost sheepish smile. “I’m - I don’t usually have an audience for this. Not since I was a kid, anyway. I’m a better shot when I’m trying, don’t worry.”

His grin was clearly meant to be reassuring, but there was something about it that was false in a way that told her, suddenly, that his smiles had been real before.

She shuddered again, forcing herself to stay put and smile back, but Gozukk’s brow creased, concerned.

He put down the bow and held his hands up, his palms out toward her. “Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, “I - Sorry.”

She wanted to shrink backward, away, but the concern on his face . . . the concern was real, too, almost certainly. She bit her lip, not sure what to say, and stayed put.

“I shouldn’t have asked you along,” he said softly, “I was being selfish. Not wanting to be by myself. But of course it looks intimidating.”

Gozukk was upset. Last night, she’d have flinched, even thinking it. But tonight - tonight he was upset, and he was sad, not angry. She breathed slowly and carefully, steadying herself.

“It’s alright,” she answered softly, “I, umm - I’m alright.”

“You’re welcome to take a few shots, if you want. I’m not so vain as all that, you know.” He sounded strained, like the joke took effort to make, but at least if he was trying to make her feel better . . . well, at least he was trying to make her feel better!

She took another careful, steady breath. “Oh, no, Gozukk,” she said, managing at the last moment not to call him Sir, “I’m umm - I don’t know how, anyway.”

Gozukk’s brow furrowed and she found herself blushing. It was a struggle not to avert her eyes, and she couldn’t stop herself from rounding her shoulders, shrinking inward.

“Would you like to learn? It might make you feel more safe.”

For a moment, she stared, struggling to make sense of the question.

“Is that why you didn’t take the knife, that first day?” Gozukk asked, “You don’t know how to fight?”

She shook her head, no.

“No, you don’t know how to fight, or no, that’s not why?”

Her heart was racing in her chest. There was no way to answer that would be guaranteed to please him. She couldn’t think her way out of it, couldn’t work out how to make the danger of it go away.

Shaking slightly, she decided to tell the truth. “B-both, Gozzuk. I - I don’t know how to fight and I didn’t -” She finally lowered her eyes to the ground, lacking the strength to keep looking up at him, “I didn’t want you to think I was - I wanted you to know I knew my place. I wanted you to know I would, um - I guess just stay.”

Gozukk was silent, but his eyes were still open, soft, taking her in without judgment.

After a moment, he said, “If you wish to leave, I will send you with an escort when I can.” His voice was soft, warm, “And if you wish to stay, I can teach you anything you want to know. Or I can’t, and someone else can. I don’t plan to send you into danger. I don’t plan to send you anywhere. But if you want to be able to defend yourself, I can help with that, too.”

She bit her lip. Everything here was so much. There were so many people, so many possibilities, so many dangers, and so many budding hopes, and she didn’t know what to do with any of them.

She did know they were standing in front of a set of targets, and agreeing to a lesson would put off the other questions, as if they’d never been asked, because she’d answered the first one instead.

“I - I think I’d like to learn to shoot. It’s - it seems -” she steadied herself, still looking down, but breathing steadily. “I think I can do it.”

Gozukk started unstringing his bow, and she looked up, confused.

He smiled, his face soft in the moonlight, and looked fond. “Mine’s too strong. We’ll get you started with one of the ones we keep to teach the kids before they make their own.”

She nodded, creeping tentatively closer. Something in the back of her mind was still screaming at her, screaming not to get closer to a master with a weapon in hand, screaming that this was a test, that she was failing, failing, going to be punished. She kept breathing, and moved forward. It was safe. Gozukk wanted her safe. He’d said so.

Moving didn’t make the voice in the back of her mind go away, but watching him finish unstringing his bow and put it down quieted it a little.

He moved slowly, cautiously, and she knew it, knew he was trying not to frighten her. She blushed again, trying to keep breathing, keep upright, keep everything steady like he wanted, like - like she wanted? Gozukk came toward her with a smaller bow, un-strung, and a string and quiver to go with it.

“Here,” he said, “We might as well start with stringing it yourself, so you’ll know how to do that if you need to.”

She nodded, taking the bow from him, and letting him guide her through the process. It was strange, having something in her hand that she knew was a weapon, and strange, too, knowing that the strong hands beside hers were helping her make it dangerous.

It was reassuring, in a way, to focus on a thing in her hands, a concrete task, and she almost understood why Gozukk had come out here, until the bow was strung and he was letting her pull on the string to test out how it felt, his hands still hovering near her. It wasn’t hard to pull back, really, but the tension of it was obvious, and all of a sudden, the knowledge of what it was flooded through her again, a feeling of danger.

Her hands shook, and Gozukk placed his gently over hers. “We don’t have to do this,” he said, so close to her that she could almost feel the rumble of his voice in her skin, “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to do this.”

There were two choices. Two choices, and her mind was too full of screaming and confusion to think them through, and something deep answered instead, an impulse at the core of her she couldn’t explain. “No,” she whispered, “I can do this.”

He nodded.

Once the decision was made, the whole cacophony inside her quieted, unsustainable and burned out. All that remained was what she was doing, and when she didn’t think about what that was, everything else was quiet.

Gozukk stood behind her, giving soft instructions, helping her adjust her stance, hold the bow, nock an arrow. He didn’t touch her when he could explain, and his hands were warm and gentle when he couldn’t, his huge body close enough to her back for her to feel the warmth, to feel the way he blocked the cool night breeze that blew around them.

She focused on what she was doing, on following directions.

“Here, like this. We don’t want the string hitting you in the forearm.”

“There, good, just like that.”

“Keep breathing, even when you’re focused on aiming.”

Her first shot missed the target, but only by a little bit, and she could hear a smile in Gozukk’s voice as he exclaimed, “Good! That’s closer than a lot of first shots. Do you want to try again?”

She nodded and let him hand her another arrow, guide her through the process again, remind her to breathe.

The arrow hit the very edge of the target, barely sticking into the canvas on the opposite side from where she’d missed last time.

Gozukk chuckled, “At this rate, you’ll be better than me, too. Another?”

She blushed, but this time her chest was warm, and what had been a tremble in her hands was now just barely in her fingers, and only when she wasn’t focused on the shot.

Her aim didn’t get better as quickly or steadily as Gozukk’s had when he was calming down, but several hit quite solidly, and as she focused only on the one thing, the new motions, the new feeling of her arms aching slightly from pulling against the tension of the string, of making it do what she wanted, the target in front of her, she felt the storm inside her drift farther away.

When the small training quiver was empty, she realized Gozukk’s hand was still on her shoulder, resting lightly, not grabbing hold, and she let herself lean slightly backward into him.

He wrapped his arms around her, still gentle, his grasp so loose she knew she could get out with just a step, and she breathed deeply, sighing outward.

“I never knew something like this was - like this,” she said softly.

She wasn’t sure what she meant by that. She wasn’t sure how to say it better without saying too much.

She felt Gozukk’s voice vibrating where her back was up against his chest. “I can understand that,” he answered, “I feel it, too. At least, I do at night, like this. I do when it’s just canvas.”

“I guess now we go find the arrows?” she asked.

“Even the ones that missed didn’t miss by much,” Gozukk answered, his arms already moving away from her again, and then they were separate in the moonlight, cleaning up the small range in silence.

[tanoraqui]

Inspired by @robininthelabyrinth’s “Helping Yourself”. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the initial reveal would go.

A young man walked out of the Burial Mounds. He seemed to be alone, but of course he wasn’t: the dead accompanied him. The dead always accompanied him.

The first living people he met were some peasants on the road. They were’t particularly notable, so he waved hello and passed them by.

The next were a small group of in white and red - cultivators, he thought vaguely. He hated them. He hated them. Gorge rose in his throat with the desire to tear them to bloody shreds, not in a single instant only so they could plead as they watched each other die. 

But that sort of hate wasn’t particularly natural to him, even if it was true, so he waved a greeting, same as with the peasants.

“Hey, isn’t that the.....bastard brat?” one of them said, with a mumble in the middle. The others cried agreement, and drew their swords.

It really did feel good to tear them apart. Mostly he didn’t do it himself - the ghosts and ghouls had even stronger yearning for the tangible feeling of muscle and bone breaking apart, warm blood bursting forth, agonized screams shaking to pieces in deflating lungs. But he watched as he played his music, smiled, and afterward when one of the corpses offered him a hand covered in its own blood, he licked it off. Sharing was only polite. It was warm.

It was a few weeks before he met anyone who made him feel anything but indifference or murderous hatred. He was killing more of the red-and-white cultivators at the time - well, one in red and white, and his looming shadow in black. If he’d thought he hated the general assortment of these cultivators, it was nothing on how he hated these two. He sat on a table and whistled as two strong corpses held the shadow back and let him watch a pretty ghost woman flay the whiny one. But the shadow broke free and lunged for him - 

And came up short with a whip of lightning around his throat, wielded by a furious-looking man in purple robes. He was accompanied a pristinely beautiful man in white.

“Wei Wuxian!” bellowed the man in purple, as he yanked the shadow to the ground and bound him further in lightning. “Where have you been!”

Oh yeah, Wei Wuxian was him. It was easy to forget, sometimes. 

“Oh, here and there.” He waved a hand vaguely, then pointed at the lightning-bound shadow now choking on the floor. “I was killing that, but do you want to help?”

Normally he’d never consider sharing, but for the first time, his chest was filling with warm relief rather than burning rage. He’d missed both these men achingly, had been going quietly mad not knowing if they were alive and well, and hadn’t realized it until now. He wanted very much to jump down and hug the one in purple, check him over for hurt, and maybe hug him again (if no hurt evidenced itself, in which case he’d also have to go kill whoever’d inflicted it.)

(The dead had started to hiss a little, like restless snakes, but that idea quieted them.)

So he did. The man scowled and didn’t hug him back, but he did let it happen. For a moment, he even laid his head on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder with something like a sigh.

While Wei Wuxian was holding his shoulders and looking him up and down for injuries, the man pulled a sword from his belt - sheathed, the whole shebang - and shoved it at his chest.

“Here, we got this for you,” he said.

Obligingly, Wei Wuxian looked the gift over, and even drew it an inch. It was very nice. Shiny. The hilt fit perfectly in his hand, though nothing else leapt out to him as particularly curious.

Much more interestingly, he turned to the man in white with a wide grin.

“‘We’?” he teased, and pressed the sheathed sword against his chest with one hand (with the other, he still held his flute. On the floor, the ghost continued peeling the brat in now much more red than white, though she’d put a hand over his mouth so he’d stay quiet.) “Why, beautiful sir, is this gift from you as well?”

He wanted to fling himself at this man, too, but in a very different way. He didn’t, because the emotions about this one were more complicated, colored with wariness. And instead of scowling like the man in purple, which was more for show than anything, the beautiful man in white looked concerned. 

“Wei Ying,” he said. “What is wrong?”

Wei Ying was...also Wei Wuxian? A cold breeze brushed by with the displeasure of the dead, but, yes, that sounded right.

“Nothing?” Okay, maybe he’d fling himself just a little bit. Saunter closer, at least, and look up at him through lowered lashes. “Am I misbehaving?”

The man’s ears turned pink and he stepped hurriedly back - and tripped over man in red and very little white. Wei Wuxian looked down at him as well, and whistled for the ghost to stop playing with her food for now. He didn’t want this one to die without feeling it beneath his own hands.

The bloody sight seemed to renew the beautiful man’s confidence, even as it sparked a deeper, darker concern in his eyes. 

“You are acting unusual,” he said. “Do you not recognize.....”

Wei Wuxian cocked his head curiously as he trailed off into an indistinguishable murmur. Or maybe it was just obscured by the suddenly restless whispers of the dead: don’t need that anymore, no no, only us.

The man in purple snapped something in address, and, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he does. It’s just...been a lot.”

He didn’t sound convinced, himself. The man in white kept his gaze fixed on Wei Wuxian and asked, “Wei Ying, do you know me?”

Wei Wuxian could’ve said something joking about of course, we’ve been speaking for several minutes, or even, you make my heart beat twice as fast and I feel like I’m standing on solid ground and a daring precipice both at once. But the man looked so distressed, behind a feeble mask of calm, that instead he frowned and tried to focus.

The scent of sandalwood...a strain of music in darkness...something with an L...

No! the dead shrieked in chorus, and he clapped his hands to his ears. It didn’t help. You promised, Wei Wuxian, you promised! Us and us alone!

Yes, yes, he shouted back. Calm down! And he pushed them away, and smiled easily at the man in white again.

“I’m sorry, beautiful sir. But I’m sure I’ll remember you forever, with such an immortal face!”

The reassurance didn’t work. His face didn’t actually move very much, but it was plainly shattered. The man in purple sounded just shy of that heartbreak as he grabbed Wei Wuxian’s arm and demanded, “What about me? Do you remember me?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to watch that shattering again. He enfolded the man in his arms again and stroked his hair, and searched for something comforting to say.

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” he managed. “I won’t lose you again. Hey, we’re going to kill these bastards, right?”

That was good, right? As Wei Wuxian’s ghost still pinned the whiny one, so the purple man hadn’t once dropped slack the lightning whip that held the man in black trapped and half-choking. This was a shared vengeance, he knew in the same heart that burned with hatred and affection, respectively.

The man in purple yanked away much faster, this time. 

“You know.....and.....?” he demanded, with traces of both hope and disgust.

“Sure.” Wei Wuxian shrugged. “I mean, I know I want to watch them both die in agony.”

Satisfied agreement flashed across the man’s features, but he kept pressing. “Why? Do you remember what they did?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged.

“To whom?”

Another shrug. He was starting to get annoyed. Maybe the dead were right - he didn’t need these people. They were only getting in the way. Maybe it would feel good to pull their beating hearts out of their chests and feel the warmth fade in his hands...

He waved the gathering resentful energy away with his flute, and sternly hushed the whispering dead. They didn’t need to kill everyone. Even if it was tempting. He liked these ones.

“Do you remember where you’re from at all?” the man in purple asked. He was trying to keep scowling, but his voice cracked.

Fortunately, that was an easy one. Wei Wuxian relaxed, ire disappearing without effort. 

“The Burial Mounds! I’ve been walking for weeks, you know.” He cast a sly glance over at the man in white. “If only someone would give me a ride on their sword...”

[edit: continued here!]