#i lie they gave us the shadow sect

[kukurubean]

dark encyclopaedia eorzea 2 show me the forbidden monk lore you havent updated since 1.0

[besanii]

Hi!!! 😃 93 for the prompt thing, please!

#93 - “You’ve hurt me again and again, but I can’t stop coming back to you.”

He arrives at a little town north of Pingzhou in the middle of winter. Snow blankets the ground like carpet, thick and soft, tracking the footsteps of the townspeople in nonsensical patterns crisscrossed over it's surface.

It's not a place he had ever expected Wei Wuxian to choose to settle, recalling how bitterly he had complained about Gusu winters and its ceaseless snow; it seems his understanding of Wei Wuxian is even poorer than he had believed it to be. The thought unsettles him more than he’d prefer to admit.

No one he asks seems to have heard of the name Wei Wuxian, or Wei Ying, but when he describes his appearance, the innkeeper’s daughter exclaims: “You must be talking about Yue-gongzi!”

“Yue-gongzi?” The name is unfamiliar, but the girl nods insistently.

"Yue-gongzi is an artist!" she tells him, eyes shining with excitement. "He paints the prettiest pictures! Look!"

She thrusts a piece of paper under his nose despite her parents' protestations, waving it eagerly until Lan Wangji takes it from her. It's a fine rendering of two butterflies in blue and yellow, hovering above a magnificent red peony in full bloom. He recognises the brushwork instantly, the bold strokes and soft lines, so masterfully executed. He would know this work anywhere.

"Where does this Yue-gongzi live?" he asks.

--

He's thinner, Lan Wangji notices with a familiar pang of guilt as they stare at each other across the threshold, frozen.

His cheekbones are more prominent now, with none of the boyish charm and flush of health he'd had when they first met. His lips are paler, thinned, pressed together so tightly they may well fuse together; there are dark shadows under his eyes. He looks haunted, sickly—so frail, wrapped in a white, fur-lined cloak that almost dwarfs him in size.

"Wei Ying…" His name falls from Lan Wangji's lips in a hoarse whisper.

The sound jars Wei Wuxian out of his frozen stupor; his fingers tighten around the door until his knuckles turn white.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. His voice is quiet; Lan Wangji is taken aback by the frostiness of his tone.

"I…" he hesitates. "I've been looking for you."

For a long moment, Wei Wuxian looks at him in silence, as if assessing the truthfulness of his words. But Lan Wangji does not lie, would never lie—not to Wei Wuxian. Not even when he should have, when it would have saved them both. And Wei Wuxian knows it too, because he sighs and averts his gaze.

"Zhanshen-daren found me," he says without humour. "What business has Zhanshen-daren lowering himself to grace my humble home with his presence?"

The bitter mockery in his words slices through Lan Wangji's heart like a knife, colder than even the ice that gathers on the furs of his cloak. It is more than he deserves.

"Are you…" He swallows, clenches his fist. "Have you been well?"

A muscle tightens in Wei Wuxian's jaw.

"As well as can be expected," he replies stiffly. "Thank you Zhanshen-daren for his concern."

An awkward silence falls between them, putting Lan Wangji at a loss. Wei Wuxian had always been the one to fill the silences in the past, chattering and laughing about anything and everything that came to mind, undeterred by the lack of response. He had always had a way about him that bridged gaps between people. Lan Wangji doesn't know how to fill silences. He doesn't know how to bridge the chasm between them.

He opens his mouth, and closes it again. After a few more times, Wei Wuxian sighs heavily and moves to close the door. Sharp panic rises in his throat and Lan Wangji takes a step forward, only catching himself when Wei Wuxian freezes.

“May I...” He sucks in a breath and tries again. “May I come in?”

For a moment, he’s afraid Wei Wuxian would refuse. He would be well within his rights to as well. But Wei Wuxian only gives him a glare full of wary mistrust and reluctantly steps aside to allow him entry.

The cottage is simple and rustic, but sturdy nonetheless; all the furniture looks to be handmade, from the small table near the window to the simple bedframe barely visible behind the cloth partition. It’s a far cry from what Lan Wangji is used to, but it is clean, well-kept and spacious. He stands in the middle of the room and takes it all in, unsure of himself now that he is here.

“I live but a simple life,” Wei Wuxian tells him. “I’m afraid I have very little to offer that would meet Zhanshen-daren’s standards. If Zhanshen-daren is looking for somewhere where lodge, I would suggest the inn back in town.”

A clear dismissal. But Lan Wangji has never been one to give up that easily. He turns back to Wei Wuxian lingering in the doorway.

“Have you been here this whole time?” he asks. Wei Wuxian shrugs.

“More or less.” He stares at a spot on the wall over Lan Wangji’s right shoulder rather than meeting his eyes. “As long as you don’t cause trouble, and help out every now and then, the people here are happy to let you be.”

He coughs into his fist, thin and raspy. Wen Qing had warned him that Wei Wuxian would likely be severely weakened; the Seal was forged by the Demon God, imbued with the essence of his demonic energy—no matter how strong he is, Wei Wuxian is only a yao. Such high levels of exposure to that much demonic energy would have burned him up from the inside had his golden core not been as powerful as it were.

The very thought sends a chill down Lan Wangji’s spine. He reaches for Wei Wuxian’s wrist to check his pulse without thinking, only for it to be jerked away; he looks up to see Wei Wuxian staring at him, wide-eyed and fearful.

Wei Ying. Afraid.

Afraid of him.

“Zhanshen-daren please restrain yourself,” Wei Wuxian says stiffly, expression shuttering closed. Lan Wangji curls his outstretched hand into a fist and brings it back to his side.

“My apologies.” He opens his mouth to continue, but Wei Wuxian is already turning away, moving further into the cottage with his back resolutely facing him. “Wei Ying, I—”

He breaks off, suddenly at a loss for words. He’d thought of a thousand different scenarios that could possibly occur should he ever find Wei Wuxian again; he’d had a plan for every single one. He’d ask for forgiveness for his actions, for his misjudgment, for his naivete and foolishness, explain that they’d been mislead by Jin Guangyao, that he had believed in Wei Wuxian’s innocence all along—but all of it sounds flimsy and inconsequential now that he’s here. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. Wei Wuxian inhales, hands freezing over the shelf by the window on the other side of the room. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—didn’t protect you. I should have spoken out, done more—”

“You did what you had to,” Wei Wuxian corrects him. His hands curl into fists. “I don’t blame you for it. You have responsibilities to your sect, to your identity as the God of War in eradicating the likes of us.” He exhales, bows his head. “We were destined to be on opposing sides, you and I. And I should have told you who I was—what I am—much sooner. Before either of us got in too deep.”

“No.” The denial comes swiftly, harsher than he’d intended, as he crosses the room in three long strides to stand behind Wei Wuxian. “You did what you had to,” he continues in a gentler voice. “You had to protect your clan. I don’t blame you for it. I never should have. I should have—”

I should have believed you, hangs between them.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“You had no reason to,” he reminds him gently. “I gave you no reason to. I made that choice myself.”

Lan Wangji reaches out a trembling hand to rest on his shoulder, only for Wei Wuxian to slip away at the last moment, ducking past him towards the area partitioned off as sleeping quarters. Once again putting distance between them.

“You should go.” The dismissal cuts through the air like an arrow, straight into Lan Wangji’s chest. “It won’t be good for someone to see you here.”

“No, please!” He stumbles forward a step towards him before he catches himself, hands balled tightly into fists by his side. “Please don’t send me away, Wei Ying. Wen Qing says you are not well. I-I want to help you. Please.”

A shudder runs through the line of Wei Wuxian’s shoulders; he hunches over, hands coming up to pull his cloak tighter about him as if to ward off the chill. Lan Wangji watches him, desperately hoping that the sincerity of his of plea is heard and understood. That he would once again be able to stand by Wei Wuxian’s side and protect him, as he should have from the beginning.

The laughter that follows is soft, rueful, and it hurts Lan Wangji more than if he had thrust Bichen through his own heart.

“Lan Wangji, ah, Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian sighs. He half-turns, tilts his head to look back at Lan Wangji sadly. “You’ve hurt me again and again, but I can’t stop coming back to you. What grievous misdeeds have I wrought upon you in my past life that I must continue to atone for it in this one?”

He turns away again.

“It would be best for Zhanshen-daren to leave now.”

--

Translations

Zhanshen-daren (战神大人) - My Lord, the God of War

--

Notes

The Demon God is a mo (魔) demon, an evil spirit, whereas Wei Wuxian is a yao (妖) demon, a spirit formed from a non-human living creature (in this case, a vermilion bird). Yao are not necessarily evil, but they tend to be portrayed as thus in the majority of folklore—in the original drama, one of the main responsibilities of the righteous sects is to eradicate yao to prevent them from hurting humans.

The “yue” Wei Wuxian uses is 乐 from 音乐 (yinyue, music), which can also be read as le (pleasure, enjoyment, happy/cheerful)

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buy me a ko-fi!

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previous parts here

[toomanyrobins]

MINIMAL LOSS

summary: Spencer and Y/N head into the Separtarian Sect and are greeted with trouble.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

content warnings: few swear words, guns, character death, violence, cult behavior

word count: 3.7k

It had been a few months since Y/N had joined the BAU. Despite initial worries, she fit right into the team. She had joined the women for girls’ night and even helped Garcia plan JJ’s baby shower. Hotch was truly showing how much trust he held by sending the two youngest teammates on their own assignment. Y/N and Spencer were in a car in La Plata with Nancy, a CPS worker, on their way to Liberty Ranch. Spencer played the call for the three of them: “He comes into my bedroom and lays with me. He says it's god's will. I'm only 15. And I'm not the only one. Please help me!” 

Y/N turned to Nancy, “Who is the ‘he’?”

“I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church's leader: Benjamin Cyrus.”

Reid flipped open the file and leaned forward so that Y/N could look at it too. She smiled appreciatively at him, “Benjamin Cyrus--No criminal record. No record at all, really. What else do you know about him?

Nancy shrugged, “It's rumored that he's practicing polygamy and forced marriages.

Y/N scanned the file as Spencer read aloud, “Do we know who the caller is?”

“Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, But...we can't be sure. I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn't easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn't identify us as FBI. Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Y/N and Reid left their badges and gun in the car. The trio pulled up and was greeted by a single man lounging on the stairs. He seemed unimpressed by their presence and continued to read his book. Y/N noted that the act seemed a bit over the top and a definite attempt to appear nonchalant about their visit.

Nancy walked up to him, “I'm looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.”

The man walked down the stairs, shutting the Bible in his hands, “You found him.”

“I'm Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“Savages they call us because our manners differ from theirs.”

“We didn't come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.

“Actually, It's a Benjamin Franklin.” Y/N smiled softly at the ever fact-driven Dr. Reid.

Nancy motioned at the two of them, “Y/N Emard and Spencer Reid -- they’re child victim

interview experts.”

“How far from God's word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?”

“We wish we didn't have to be here,” Y/N said.

So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school,” He pointed to the building behind him.

Nancy nodded and thanked him. The two women forged ahead, but Y/N stopped when she heard Spencer remark on the compound’s use of solar power.

“We're completely self-sufficient,” Cyrus explained, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said, ‘God helps those that help themselves.’ You look surprised.” Y/N noticed that Spencer was working to build a relationship with Cyrus and followed Nancy to begin interviews. They decide to start Jessica: the suspected victim. Y/N immediately noted the defensive posture that the 15-year-old held. Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her and looked much more submissive.

“So, what does a normal day on the ranch look like for you?” Y/N inquired.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect that God demands.”

“But you've never been off of the ranch?

Kathy spoke, “I brought Jessie here when she was 2.”

The young girl had a very sour look on her face and had her hands folded tightly in anger, “You've talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours? We devote ourselves to God.” Kathy put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder to calm her.

Y/N reassured the teen, “We are not here because of your religious beliefs.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You're talking about Cyrus.”

Reid had joined them and heard the last bit of the conversation, “What makes you say that?”

Kathy tried to stop her daughter, but the indignation was clear. “Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?

Y/N was shocked, “You are married to Cyrus?”

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It's an honor to bear his children.

“Jessica, you're 15 years old. The state of Colorado requires parental consent.”

Y/N stared at Kathy and saw the regret in her eyes. She looked up at Reid, “She gave consent.”

Before they could continue to question, they were interrupted by members of the ranch coming in armed. They forced the three outsiders back and pointed their weapons at them. ”What's going on?” Nancy demanded. Three men came over and patted them all down. Y/N dug her heel into the man’s toe when she felt him linger. He groaned and stepped back with a scowl, nodding to Cyrus to confirm that all three were weapon-free.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me about a raid, maybe?” All three of them were shocked. Especially Y/n and Spencer since they knew that JJ had checked with other agencies before sending them in. Cyrus shook his head, “They don't know.” The men shepherded the woman and children through tunnels hidden under the buildings to a bunker filled with weapons. Gunfire could be heard overhead as instructions were given by Cyrus. 

Y/N and Spencer both saw how the guns lining the walls. She whispered, “Where did all these guns come from?”

Spencer shook his head, “I don't know. Garcia checked with the state police.” Nancy broke free of the group in the bunker and hurried up the church, thinking she could stop the raid from continuing. They heard the gunfire cease and he whispered again, “The raid is over.”

“What does that mean?”

“Either Cyrus convinced them to leave or this is over a lot faster than we thought.” When the men returned back down, Y/N realized that they were stuck in the compound again. Spencer inquired into where Nancy had gone and Cyrus explained that she had been shot by the Colorado authorities. 

“They’re pulling out.”

Reid shook his head, “Not for long.” They were stuck in the bunker while the male members of the cult all armed themselves. 

Y/N leaned over, “The team will have to be on its way now that a failed raid will be on the news. 

“With an average flight time of five and a half hours between DC and the La Plata County Airport plus the half hour drive out to the ranch, I estimate that they’ll be here by 4 o’clock, maybe 4:30 depending on who drives.” Y/N and Reid stayed trapped in the bunker, covered by an armed member at the door.

Y/N needed grounding and turned to Spencer, “What is the playbook here?”

“If the BAU is put in charge, which I imagine they will be because we are inside, they will go for the minimal loss situation. Statistically, it is improbable that they will get every member out, so they will do their best to save as many as possible. With the indoctrination in cults like this, some will be too far gone. It will be impossible to convince them that what they have been following is a lie. They’ll first try to get out 1 or 2, then 3 or 4, and then as many as possible before it goes bad,” Spencer stopped talking and looked confused, “You haven’t told me to stop rambling.”

“Why would I tell you to stop? This is valuable information,” Y/N’s cheeks warmed, “Plus you have a nice voice. We are going to be here a while until someone gets in contact with Cyrus. Best to be informed and it seems that you’re a wealth of information, Dr. Reid.” 

Despite the situation, Spencer smiled and continued talking quietly to Y/N about the tactics used. She asked him questions and let him answer them with as much information as he had. Y/N had seen him get cut off by the others before, and she understood why they did it, but she realized he probably didn’t get to share to his heart’s content often and currently they had a minimum 6 hours of waiting ahead of them. That plan was cut short by Cyrus coming back down. He brought them all up to the church. The duo were off to the side, watching as Rossi came in carrying a box. He was patted down and Cyrus spoke to him. Y/N and Spencer were both careful to keep any hint of recognition off of their face, knowing that even a twinge of weakness could seal their fates. 

Rossi let his eyes pass over the duo, before turning to Cryus, “I’d hope you let me take the children.”

“Nah, they’re our protection. I remember Waco... we all do. They stay for now. While I pray for God’s guidance. Please don’t try to force us out.”

“No one’s gonna try to force you out of here.” The two men walked to the door and Rossi left again. 

The moment he was out the door, Cyrus ordered a member to prepare wine, “We are celebrating. Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with him.”

Y/N watched a scene unfold in front of her and brushed her hand against Spencer’s to get his attention, “Look at Jessica’s body language. The way she looks at him. She literally worships him.”

Spencer nodded, “There is no way she made that 911 call.”

They both watched as Kathy stood up to speak to her daughter, “Look how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter. She's inserted herself between them. I don’t think Kathy is as devout a follower as she wants people to believe. Cyrus isn’t the most important thing to her; Jessica is.” Spencer squeezed her hand in silent agreement. 

Cyrus began preaching from the front as all the followers drank the wine, “Acknowledge him in all things and he will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way. We will be with him soon. We drank the poison together. Mothers… Fathers… Children, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil, for thou art with us.”

Y/N eyes widened and she looked up at Spencer, “What do we do?”

He shook his head, “Nothing.”

“We have to do something. These people just took poison.”

“Cyrus just told them they did. I think he's just bluffing. Just after he told them about the poison, he waited for them to start to react. Then, he nodded to Cole and he started writing. They're scanning the audience looking for reactions. They're writing down the names of the people who are crying.

Realization hit Y/N, “It's a loyalty list. So he knows who will follow him to the end.”

Cyrus spoke again, “Be still. There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the devil, waltzes about as a roaring lion, choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”

After the test, they forced Y/N and Spencer back into the bunker. A guard again stationed by the door. It wasn’t long before Cyrus came back into the bunker, anger written across his face, “Which one of you is it? Which one of you is an FBI agent?”

Spencer and Y/N shared a look. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?

“God will forgive me for what I must do.”

Spencer kept his face confused and innocent, “I--I don't know what you're talking about.”

Cyrus cocked a gun and pointed it at Spencer’s forehead. “One of you does. Who is it?”

Y/N knew that Spencer had built a rapport with the sect leader. She took a deep breath, “Me. It's me.”

Spencer looked at her worriedly as Cyrus uncocked the weapon. He flew forward and grabbed Y/N by her hair, dragging her into another room, “I told you not to put me in this position!” She tried to stand, but he backhanded her. She got up again, staring determinedly at him. This time, Cyrus threw her into the wall. Y/N crashed into a mirror and felt the shards cut her arms and face. He continued to preach while beating her, “Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.

Y/N remembered what Reid had said about the FBI trying to find a way to listen in, she had to stop them from coming in, “I can take it.” Cyrus thought she was antagonizing him and hit harder. She repeated herself, “I can take it.” Y/N hoped that the team understood that she could handle this fight and not blow the operation by trying to save her.

“Pride comes before the fall,” Cyrus punched her in the stomach and threw her to the floor. Y/N lay on the floor, trying to catch her breath after the last kick to her stomach knocked the wind out of her. He called for another man to come in, “Tie her up. Put her upstairs.

Kathy snuck into the room they had trapped Y/N in. She had brought a small first aid kit and cleaned the blood away from her face and removed bits of glass, “You should have told Cyrus who you were. He's a prophet. He predicted Satan's armies would come and lay siege to us.

Every inch of Y/N’s body hurt, but she knew she couldn’t give up. She looked at Kathy, “There's a name for that kind of prophecy-- self-fulfilling.”

“You don't know how dangerous It is to lie to him.”

“I know it would take a brave woman to defy him, Knowing the consequences. And that woman would have to have a damn good reason to do it. Kathy sucked in air when she realized that Y/N had suspicions about who made the 911 call that had led to them coming to the compound. She left the room and Y/N let her head fall back against the pillows, hoping that she was getting to the woman. 

She tried to track how long had passed but when the sun set, she had no measure of time. It hadn’t been long before the door to the room flew open and the same man who had tied her up entered. He roughly dragged her up and cut the rope binding her wrist. He kept his weapon trained on her and forced her into the church, where everyone else was. 

Cyrus stood at the altar, “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So when I call out your name, please stand.”

Spencer came up to her. She kept her eyes trained on the sect leader, “He looks pissed.” She turned to him and smiled softly when she saw the worry in his eyes, “Spencer, it's not as bad as it looks. I’ve had worse.”

“I'm so sorry,” Spencer scanned over Y/N’s body, taking in every injury inflicted by Cyrus. Moments like this, he hated his eidetic memory; knowing he would never forget the beating Y/N took to protect him. Their attention was drawn back to the members, 

“Look at who he's releasing. It's the ones who failed the loyalty test. I'll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come.” Spencer walked away from her to speak to Cyrus. He turned and nodded to her, before she was dragged back up the room. Her arms were tied again and she was thrown on the bed. 

Y/N nodded off for a few hours, but had woken up when the sun had started to rise, cursing herself for falling asleep. Y/N situated herself on the bed and used her shoe to pull the blinds down. She knew that the glass needed to vibrate in order for them to hear her, “If you can hear me, I know you're coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel, but I need to know when you're coming.” She continued to repeat herself, when a red dot shone on the opposite wall, “Ok. Ok. I got you. What time?” The dot held steady for a moment and then moved 90 degrees. “3 a.m.?” The dot moved up and down confirming, “Understood. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus. And, please, remember there are children here.” Y/N heard someone coming and dropped her foot, letting the blind close again.

Kathy came back into Y/N’s room. She helped her sit up and gave her a glass of water. This was Y/N’s last chance to convince Kathy to held, “Cyrus is planning a mass suicide. You made that 911 call.”

The woman shook her head regretfully, “This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn't of made that call.

“You were trying to protect your daughter. No one would fault you for that”

“There were other girls before Jessie. He--he would marry them in secret, and after a while he'd take another. And we weren't permitted to speak of it. So, when she asked for my consent, I wanted to just take her and run. But I was afraid she wouldn't leave him.”

“You wanted us to take her.”

“Well, I--I wanted to save her from Cyrus.”

“I can give you another chance. The FBI is coming here at 3 a.m. I need you to gather Jessica, the kids, the other women -- get them into the basement just before 3 a.m.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I have faith that you are a strong enough woman to do the right thing for Jessica.” Kathy stood and walked out of the room without another word. Y/N was left with the hope that she had gotten through to the woman. 

Only a few moments later, Kathy came back. She helped Y/N sit up and removed the bindings from her wrists, “You were right. They're setting the place to blow up. I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted her to gather the women and children.”

Y/N’s thoughts were on Spencer, “Where is the man I came in with?”

“He's in the chapel with Cyrus. It's 2:45, though, we gotta hurry.” Y/N and Kathy rushed to get the women and children down to the basement, careful to avoid any of the armed men. 

Once they got to the basement, Derek and Rossi were waiting for them. He rushed up to her, “Y/N, Y/N, you all right?

“Worry about me later, Derek. They've wired explosives.” Kathy and the agents rushed everyone out of the compound. 

“Where's Reid?”

“He's in the chapel with Cyrus.”

Rossi turned to her, “We gotta get you out of here.

“No. We've gotta get Reid!

Derek grabbed her shoulders, “I will get Reid. Get out of here. Get to safety. Go now.” Y/N nodded and followed after the rest of the members. She stayed watching the building as the other continued to run. Y/N had to know that Spencer was okay. The church exploded and Y/N fell to the ground, covering her head. Once the smoke cleared, she stood up, “Reid! Morgan? Reid? Morgan!”

“We're ok!” Derek called.

Spencer ran up to her and wrapped her in a hug, “Are you okay?” She nodded and he put his arm around her, helping her to walk to get medical attention. Only once he was certain she was getting help did he leave.

Y/N sat in the back of an ambulance as the paramedic pulled shards of glass from her arms, and bandaged and disinfected the cuts on her face. JJ came over to check on her, “How bad is it?”

“Everything is sore, but the worst is cuts from the mirror he slammed me into. They said I don’t even need to go to the hospital.”

“Take it easy and don’t move until one of us comes to help you. Understand?”

Y/N smiled, “You’re already such a mom, JJ.” The blonde laughed and sat next to her, one hand on her belly.  The rest of the night passed quickly and soon the team was on the jet back to DC. Y/N sat next to Spencer on the couch, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Y/N gently pulled the book out of his hands and put her hand in his, forcing him to put all of his attention on her, “I need you to listen to me. What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision, and I would do it again. Do you hear me?” Spencer nodded. Y/N smiled at him and handed him his book back. She tucked her feet under the blanket and put her head on his shoulder, exhaustion weighing her eyelids down. Spencer read to her, remembering what she said about his voice, until he was sure she was asleep. The team all shared looks at the familiarity between the youngest teammates and smiled.

When they landed, Spencer offered to drive her home. The duo ended up at Y/N’s apartment. They ordered Chinese food and Y/N let him turn on Star Trek and explain all of the science and how it was ahead of its time. By the end of the night, Y/N had her legs slung across his lap and a frozen pea bag on her bruised face. She fell asleep sometime during the fourth episode. Spencer turned the TV off and covered her with a blanket. He quickly put the leftovers and peas away, and even laid out some Advil and water on the coffee with a note for when she woke up. 

Y/N,

You fell asleep and I decided you need your sleep. I put the food away and the peas back in the freezer. Take the Advil when you wake up. You’re going to need it. Text me when you wake up and I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive until you’ve healed.

Dr. Spencer Reid

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

- Chapter 5 -

“Wen Chao is missing again,” Wen Ning said, and reached a hand up so that he could bite his nails.  

Nie Mingjue caught his hand and brought it back down again. “Missing again? What do you mean?”

“He’s been going missing,” Wen Ning explained. “Right before classes, or training, or – or dinner. We make excuses or find him before it becomes a problem, but he’s getting better at hiding. And eventually…”

Eventually, one of the teachers would tell Wen Ruohan.

Or worse, Wen Chao would miss a dinner, and it would be one of the dinners Wen Ruohan attended. The consequences of that would be unthinkable.

“Has he explained the reason?” Nie Mingjue asked, frowning when Wen Ning shook his head. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Wen Ning gave him a look that suggested that the broken bones might have something to do with it. Even though there was only one that actually broke.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“We don’t even know where he is.”

Nie Mingjue did not let that stop him. He was mostly able to walk by now, anyway, and it didn’t take long for him to track Wen Chao down to one of his favorite places to go hide – one of the unused rooms in the family quarters, so long abandoned that there was dust over every surface. There were women’s things scattered all over the place, and Nie Mingjue suspected that the room had once belonged to Wen Chao’s mother.

“A-Chao?” he called, his voice low.

There was a strangled sob, and Wen Chao appeared from behind the bed, his eyes red. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he scolded. “What are you doing here? Go back, go back.”

“A-Chao, why have you been hiding away?” Nie Mingjue asked, sitting down on the bed instead. “You haven’t even come to visit me.”

Wen Chao’s lower lip trembled. He was only a little boy, in the end – only ten years old. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

“What’s me getting hurt have to do with you?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled as always. How did these Qishan Wen people think, with loops and layers and circles turning in on themselves? “You didn’t do it.”

“I’m stupid,” Wen Chao said. His voice was small and pained. “If I’d been smart enough to play along, pretend you were talking about someone else, the way Huaisang-xiong and A-Qing did…”

“The only one to blame for me saying stupid things is myself,” NIe Mingjue said firmly. “And the only person to blame for hurting me for saying them is Sect Leader Wen. And I wouldn’t have thought to come up with a cover story, either – are you saying I’m stupid?”

Wen Chao sniffed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re probably right,” Nie Mingjue acknowledged, and patted the bed next to him. Wen Chao flung himself forward, curling up into Nie Mingjue’s arms as if he’d been missing them – he probably had been, too, the little fool. “But neither of us are going to get less stupid if we keep missing classes. So let’s try not to, okay?”

“Okay,” Wen Chao said, and rubbed his head against Nie Mingjue’s chest. “Nie-ge?”

“Mm?”

“I wish you were my big brother instead of Huaisang-xiong’s.”

Nie Mingjue fought a smile. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Have you considered the possibility of me being a big brother to both of you? It’s not necessarily one or the other.”

Wen Chao’s arms tightened around him. “Maybe I want you to myself.”

“Maybe you need to learn to share.”

Wen Chao snickered. A little wetly, but still.

-

Wen Xu and Wen Chao had the misfortune of being born relatively close together in the year. That meant that there was always a single party, nominally held in their honor, that invariably turned into a political event, with all the subsidiary sects flocking to the Nightless City to pay their respects to Wen Ruohan. The sect leaders brought their children along, particularly if they had one around Wen Chao’s age, but that was just a cover; their presence was a homage to the dominant power to which they paid allegiance, the party in no way about either of the two heirs, and that was just as Wen Ruohan liked it.  

The other Great Sects usually sent gifts but did not attend – Nie Mingjue certainly had never gone – but this year the Lan sect broke custom and sent a delegation, with the stated purpose of presenting Wen Chao with an invitation to go take classes at the Cloud Recesses in view of his exceptional performance at the discussion conference.

“Exceptional performance,” Nie Mingjue mouthed at Wen Chao, who turned bright red.

The invitation was in fact issued, but it was probably more accurate to surmise that what the Lan sect really wanted was to get another look at the two Nie heirs and assure themselves of their continued health. Still, Nie Mingjue thought he had a good enough read on Lan Qiren’s personality to conclude that his old teacher wouldn’t affirmatively invite someone he didn’t think had potential, not even for ulterior motives. His reputation as a teacher of any type of student was famous throughout the cultivation world, and being invited to his lectures – as opposed to sending your children there on the basis of a political arrangement, as many sects did – was considered to be a great honor. Even Nie Mingjue had attended on the strength of his family, not himself.

As a result, the invitation was a compliment, and Wen Ruohan liked compliments. The Lan sect delegates were of course invited to stay at the party, and the visiting child – Lan Wangji, who at a year older than Nie Huaisang was a year younger than Wen Chao and thereby a more reasonable a guest to send than Lan Xichen would have been – was sent to mill around with them.

He looked miserable.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t really blame him, especially given how Lan Xichen had once spoken to him at length about how little Lan Wangji liked parties like this. Unable to watch his suffering, he asked Nie Huaisang in an undertone to go distract him a little, maybe find him a quiet place to stay.

After a while, Nie Huaisang returned to his side, Lan Wangji now in tow, and Nie Mingjue frowned at them. He hadn’t meant for Nie Huaisang to bring Lan Wangji here, since Nie Mingjue was supposed to be keeping his head down and avoiding people – Wen Ruohan hadn’t said anything explicit on the subject, but they all knew better than to risk embarrassing him in front of his guests – but he supposed there was nothing for it now.

“Lan Wangji,” he greeted, forgoing the usual intimacy of addressing him only by his courtesy name – he had done so when he was Lan Xichen’s friend, which he thought he still was, but just because Lan Xichen would overlook his current situation did not mean that others would, and Lan Wangji loved rules more than most. “You look well.”

It was a bit of a lie. Lan Wangji was ashen-faced, his fingers trembling a little even as he hid them in his sleeves. It seemed like a bit of an overreaction to the party, unless he suffered from a more severe form of social anxiety than Nie Mingjue had anticipated based on Lan Xichen’s descriptions.

“And you look terrible, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice a little sharp, more poisonous than his normal cheerfulness. “You’re more colorful than a rainbow.”

Nie Mingjue’s bruises were indeed at that unfortunate stage, and there were enough on his face and hands that it was difficult to conceal them for very long, even with powder. There was a reason he’d gone out only briefly to greet people – acting as proof of life – before retiring to the back of the room.

“Yes, well,” he said, shaking his head and giving Nie Huaisang a stern look. He didn’t want to air out their business in front of guests. “How is your brother, Lan Wangji?”

“Well,” Lan Wangji said. His jaw was working, and Nie Mingjue wondered briefly if what he had thought was social anxiety was in fact barely suppressed rage. “Would you come to the Cloud Recesses as well, if we invited you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him, surprised out of his gloomy thoughts. “I’ve already attended one round of lectures, Wangji. You remember, surely? It was two summers back – was it three? – when I was thirteen, at any rate.”

“There are always new things to learn,” he said vaguely in return, and it was such a Lan Wangji thing to say – such a Lan thing to say – that Nie Mingjue barely managed to keep himself from cooing and calling him a good little cabbage. “Would you be allowed to come?”

“Probably not,” Nie Mingjue said regretfully. “But if you could take Huaisang when he’s old enough, it would be a good experience for him.”

Possibly not for Lan Qiren, given Nie Huaisang’s issues with memorization, but certainly good for Nie Huaisang.

“He doesn’t have many friends here,” he added. “It’s just A-Chao, A-Qing, and A-Ning…have you met the latter two? Huaisang, if you haven’t, you should introduce them.”

“I will,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge, are you sure you can’t find a way to go?”

Nie Mingjue realized that his brother was trying to get him out of the Nightless City, likely in his own efforts to deal with what had happened to him. He sighed, reaching out to touch Nie Huaisang’s hair lightly. “I’m the heir of Qinghe Nie, Huaisang. He’s not going to let me go until he feels confident in controlling me.”

And that would not be soon, he didn’t say, but anyone looking at the marks on his face or the careful way he held himself could put that together easily enough.

Lan Wangji’s lips were pressed tightly together, but Nie Huaisang sighed, yielding to logic, and took him away again. Nie Mingjue returned to his corner, hoping that the shadows would help conceal his bruises, and sank into meditation, trying to not to fantasize about the world in which he could take that offer of help, well-meant as it was. A world where he could take Nie Huaisang and all the Wens – even Wen Xu, who was a nervous wreck underneath his apparent arrogance – away to the tranquil peace of the Cloud Recesses and never come back.

It wouldn’t help to think of that world. It wasn’t this one.

-

Wen Ruohan held court from his throne in the main hall and from a simple chair in the dining room, but he was equally terrifying in any location. His questions had only gotten harder as time passed, and everyone kept their heads down and answered to his satisfaction, even Nie Huaisang.

His questions were easier than everyone else’s, and after dinner ended Wen Ruohan touched Nie Huaisang’s hair and told him with a smile that he was a pretty but useless bird, a lovely ornament to their house, and that they couldn’t possibly do without him. The eyes of all the Wens slid straight to Nie Mingjue, each one filled with terror at his reaction, but Nie Mingjue for once held his tongue.

He hadn’t really expected Nie Huaisang to be able to leave, not this year. Perhaps next year this little interaction would be forgotten and they could try again.

(He wanted to break every one of Wen Ruohan’s fingers so that they never touched his brother ever again. He wanted to make it so that Wen Chao didn’t look wistfully envious even as he shivered in terror at the thought of his father’s attention, make it so that Wen Xu didn’t look dull and resigned in anticipation of endless pain, make it so that Wen Qing and Wen Ning didn’t look so close to tears. 

He wanted to be home in the Unclean Realm again before he forgot what it was like.)

Wen Ruohan smiled at him, probably reading his thoughts from his face. “Walk with me, Mingjue,” he said. It was not a request. “I would hear about how you are adjusting to life in Qishan.”

Nie Mingjue left frightened faces behind him, and held firm to the thought that it would be politically inconvenient for Wen Ruohan to kill him.

(The fact that he didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve it - this time, anyway - was irrelevant.)

Nie Huaisang found him later that night, sitting on the stone floor next to his bed unmoving, skin cold and clammy with shock, and there was a small and quiet but extremely frantic whirl of activity that resulted in everyone crowding into Wen Xu’s bedroom, it being the biggest, trying to warm him back up.

It was more or less one big swirl of noise and movement, and Nie Mingjue only briefly surfaced to catch a few snatches of conversation –

“– did he do to him? He was only gone a shichen or two –”

“– physically seems fine, but I don’t like what his vitals are doing. Maybe we should call the sect doctors –”

“– if we do that, he’ll find out we did that –”

“– better brother than you ever were!”

That last one sounded like Wen Chao, making trouble again, even though it really wasn’t Wen Xu’s fault that he’d fallen for Wen Ruohan’s divide-and-conquer tricks when he was even younger than Wen Chao was now. It was how he’d been raised, Qishan Wen style, and anyway he’d been doing so much better lately, actually paying attention and joining hands with the rest of them to resist and distract and care about each other.

Nie Mingjue wanted to say something like that, knew that he had to speak, that it was his responsibility, a duty voluntarily assumed in having taken the role of older sibling for all that he wasn’t actually the eldest, but all that came out of his mouth was a low whine, pathetic, and he remembered that right now he really just wanted to die.

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare –”

“– need to get his body temperature up. His golden core is exacerbating the effects of the shock –”

“– did you hear what he said –”

“– tear that motherfucker’s heart out –”

“– leave my grandmother out of this –”

“– not a real doctor! I’m just an apprentice, and I’m trying –”

“– how could you possibly say that?! Of course I care! Before him, nobody – nobody ever – listen, if I wasn’t nearly five years older than him, I’d be calling him da-ge right alongside the rest of you, okay? Shit, I have half a mind to do it anyway, and fuck anyone who thinks it strange –”

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and sobbed.

[eigwayne]

Fic Time! It’s the first part of the ChengQing fic I keep mentioning.

A Little Spoiled

Rating: Explicit Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Relationship: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Wēn Qíng Characters: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing (Módào Zǔshī) Language: English; Words: 4045; Chapters:1/4

Additional Tags: Inadvisable Hook-ups, paying for groceries as a form of affection, kinda sugar daddy jiang cheng, Emotional Constipation, First Time, Awkward First Times, vacillating wildly between annoyed and horny, as many of us are when jiang cheng is involved, Secrets, drama canon

Read chapter 1 on AO3 here.

Wen Qing knows this is a bad idea. He's short tempered, fought a war against her clan, and has responsibilities that dont- can't- include her. She returned his comb and is keeping a secret that could destroy him.

But he's paying for much-needed supplies and when he almost smiles she can pretend things are simpler, that he's just the shy young master who could have loved her. And sometimes even the most commanding people want to be a little spoiled.

(A vaguely drama-canon-compliant affair between Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng during the Burial Mound era, where secrets are kept, gifts are bought, and Wen Qing struggles between respect for herself and desire for Jiang Cheng before deciding she wants to attempt to have both. Fic concept notes at the end, if you’re into that.)

Wen Qing inspected the produce, turning over a potato as she checked for faults. Most were unsprouted but one never really knew. And she certainly didn’t want Wei Wuxian to think she was encouraging him. This was a treat, not a crop! Wen Ning stood behind her, patient as always and uncommenting on her vegetable selections, with his now-empty radish basket waiting to be filled.

“We’ll take some,” she said to the seller, “but you’re asking simply too much for…” A flash of purple caught her eye. Her heart jumped at the thought of him, although it wasn’t easy to tell if it was fear or not.

(Fear would be safer. Her family had made enemies of the Great Sects, Jiang Wanyin more than most, and she should be wary of him. But late at night, when she let herself dream… Well, that was a different story and she certainly wasn’t going to mull that over right there in the marketplace.)

Either way, he had as much right to cross Yiling as she did; Wei Wuxian hadn’t started a sect no matter what the rumors said and Yiling was no one’s territory. She pretended to be unaffected, hoped Wen Ning hadn’t noticed him, and turned back to the potato seller. “No, this price is too much. I am willing to spend…”

Later, potatoes successfully haggled to a reasonable price and more Wen Qing-approved vegetables joining them in Wen Ning’s basket, the Wen siblings walked together toward the exit of the market square. Wen Qing could almost pretend things were normal- that Wen Ning was alive and well, and she was simply restocking her dispensary. They would go home and everyone would have enough to eat and-

She cut that thought off before it could go further. It was too tempting, the fantasies and could-have-beens. Her mind supplied enough of those as she lay in the dark, in the moments after she laid her head on her pillow and before sleep claimed her. And her mind supplied more as she paused near a display of haircombs.

‘I should have at least asked him for some seeds and fertilizer when I gave it back,’ she thought as she remembered Jiang Wanyin’s gift. She thought of a million things she could have asked him for, after the comb had already been returned. But a rebuilding sect could spare none of it, really, and the unspoken offers were heavier than the spoken one. And all of it was foolish could-have-beens.

But she had a practical reason for looking at combs. The last good comb had broken tines and A-Yuan needed something gentle on his scalp. He cried every time he had his hair combed and that simply wouldn’t do.

“I have a few small things to get,” she said to Wen Ning. “I’ll be along shortly. Head back and help the others, okay?” He nodded and murmured his assent, and turned back to the main road. Her heart swelled with fondness. Such a good, obedient, caring boy, even now.

Wen Qing stood in front of the display, looking for something inexpensive but well-made, the tips blunt enough for A-Yuan.

At her level of cultivation, she easily felt him approach. He wasn’t even attempting to hide his presence, but she would know the feel of him even if she was drowning in the resentment of the Burial Mounds. There was his natural energy, a tumultuous pulse that she had spent so long rebuilding. There was the electric feel of his inherited spiritual weapon. And although it wasn’t something she could detect consciously, she imagined she could feel it, as the one who put it there- the blazing heat of Wei Wuxian’s golden core.

He was a storm made flesh, and he stood beside her in the marketplace of Yiling. And he said, his voice low and tight in her ear, “If you needed a comb, you should have kept the one I gave you.”

Anger flashed through her- how dare he get so close, use that voice! How dare he say something like that without even looking her in the eye! How dare he speak of it in public at all! But she swallowed it, never let it reach her face. It was a skill she learned serving a harsher master than he.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” she said with a slight curtsy. It was cute and feminine and she should have bowed, to remind him they were both cultivators and she was not without power, but she was standing straight again before it even occurred to her.

He bowed to her then, just the correct angle for politeness’s sake.

“I need a comb for a child,” she said calmly, in response to his words. “That comb should be given to a bride.”

He flinched, visibly, and she turned back to the display. The shopkeeper was surely drawing conclusions but if she wanted Wen Qing’s business, she’d keep her mouth shut.

She selected two combs, simple in design but tines sanded smooth and blunt with care. Jiang Wanyin stood beside her the whole time and she drew it out, letting him stew. He could say something if he wanted her attention that badly. He certainly had no qualms about getting close enough to be heard.

But drawing it out too long would be a waste of her time, too, so she eventually made her decision. As she reached for her too-thin money pouch, Jiang Wanyin stopped her. His hand was warm on her forearm but then, she was always cold. They were all a little cold, on the Burial Mounds.

“You don’t have to,” she hissed.

“I don’t,” he agreed, and handed the shopkeeper the silver.

The combs were wrapped in fabric- not patterned silk, just a soft linen Wen Qing would use for patching or handkerchiefs later- and she led Jiang Wanyin a few steps away.

“I do not intend to owe you anything,” she said, voice low as she dug the silver out of her pouch to repay him. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance.

“It’s a gift. Keep your money.”

She looked at him, lips tight. There was still tension in his face (perhaps there always would be), but she saw the shadow of the boy he had been. The boy who looked at her with wonder and longing. It was just a tiny, dying ember but the fact that it was there at all, after everything, made her breath catch in her throat.

‘He is so soft when he hopes, like he could be gentle again someday. Is this what drove Wei Wuxian when he begged me to do the surgery?’

She turned away, too aware that she was staring. “I don’t want to discuss this in the middle of the market.”

“Shall we have tea, then? My treat,” he said, and pushed past her to head for the teahouse. She followed him, and cursed herself for a fool.

They got a private room, but tea was served and they savored the first sips before either of them spoke to the other. Wen Qing broke the silence first.

“Why are you in Yiling?”

“I was passing through,” he said.

“Passing through,” she scoffed. “With no disciples? Do you take me for a fool? Sect Leaders don’t travel by themselves.”

The look on his face was hard, angry, but embarrassed. “I sent them on ahead when I saw you,” he admitted.

She still wasn’t sure she believed the ‘passing through’ bit, but let it go. “You could have just left. I wouldn’t have blamed you for not wanting to speak with me.”

“A-jie would want to know how Wei Wuxian is doing. Who better to ask?”

Wen Qing would have been disappointed that he had not stopped for her, but Wei Wuxian had always been what brought them into each other’s orbits. “He’s managing,” she said. “Still bothering me about potatoes. Trying to branch out into even more fickle plants.” Nevermind that she was the one who enabled Wei Wuxian in the first place, buying those lotus seeds.

Jiang Wanyin huffed. “He never could do the practical thing.”

“It seems to be working. The lotuses are growing well, at least.” Wen Qing bit back a smile at how his eyes bulged. Good. Let him be surprised.

Jiang Wanyin looked down at his tea for a moment, digesting the fact that the man he cast out, the man he let exile himself, was growing the family emblem. Wen Qing waited a bit, then asked, “So what made you take out your wallet for my combs? We’re not beholden to you. Or was that also an excuse to ask after Wei Wuxian?” She wasn’t going to lie to herself about the combs any more than she would about his reason for stopping at all. Jiang Wanyin may still hold a tiny spark of his adolescent crush but he was no altruist.

“I felt like it, and Yunmeng Jiang is in a position where I can do things because I feel like doing it,” he said.

So he was showing off. She bit back the urge to slam her teacup back on the table. As it was, she still put it down with more force than strictly necessary.

“You don’t need to look down on us, Sect Leader Jiang,” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “It may be a simple life but we are managing.”

“Are you? Because I remember what you looked like before. Are you getting enough to eat? Is that boy getting enough?”

“You would dare-“

“I would dare! Wei Wuxian meddled in things he shouldn’t have, and now he can’t even take care of you! This is what playing hero does! You’re still suffering!”

“There are different types of suffering. I prefer this to the Jins.”

Her voice was level, the heat simmering below the surface of her cold tone. Jiang Wanyin had the grace to look embarrassed. They sat in silence again, and Wen Qing contemplated on whether she should leave now or later, after their food was brought in. Her pride said now. Her stomach said later.

“I’m not a hero like he is,” Jiang Wanyin said before she decided. He looked down at his teacup rather than meet her eyes. “I can only protect what’s mine. But I still wish to include you in that, sometimes.”

“So you bought my combs?”

He gave a curt nod. “I know I’m nothing compared to him, but-“ There was a soft knock at the door of their private dining room. They fell silent again as a waiter bustled in and their food was set down. The smell set Wen Qing’s stomach growling and she had to hold herself back, too conscious that eating quickly would make her sick, and prove Jiang Wanyin’s point about the insufficient dietary needs in the Burial Mounds (she also wondered how much she could stow away to bring home for A-Yuan without sacrificing too much of her dignity). And frankly, she had better manners than to bolt her food in front of a Sect Leader, no matter how much she wanted to. It kept her occupied, keeping up the pretense of being genteel, and she didn’t have to think about how this was possibly her longest conversation with Jiang Wanyin and how Wei Wuxian would be surprised at open he was with her. She wouldn’t think about how he looked healthy enough, no signs of weakness in his spiritual energy (although she’d have to check him properly to be sure, and oh, how her fingers twitched to grasp his wrist at that!), or how he looked charmingly uncertain when the silence went on. And she definitely wouldn’t think about how pink his lips were around his chopsticks.

She had just taken a bite of course, when he finally spoke again. “It’s been six months since A-jie got married. My third-in-command- well, second-in-command, now- he knows what to do to keep things running. Now that most of the boardwalks are rebuilt, it seems all I do is paperwork and oversee lessons. Buying those combs… I felt….”

He poked at his food with his chopsticks, clearly not comfortable with the thoughts he was forming. No one Wen Qing knew was comfortable with that much truth about themselves.

‘For all we aspire to the inner peace an immortal would have, we are ill-suited for it,’ she thought, about herself and Jiang Wanyin and every cultivator they knew (except perhaps her own little brother).

“You felt needed?” she suggested. “There would be nothing wrong with that, if we were any other people.”

“If we were any other people, I would buy you much more than a couple combs.” As soon as the words were past his lips, he looked up at her with wide, startled eyes. He clearly hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

She should ignore it, might have if they were adolescents still, but the fresh food with proper spices (and no radishes at all, because even she was sick of them by now) made her feel alive and bold.

“If we were other people, I would let you,” she said. As angry as he made her mere moments before, she liked this honesty in him. She was treated to the sight of hope in his expression again- a softening of tension, the creases between his brows smoothing just a bit- before he remembered his responsibilities.

“I can’t spend too much more- time or money. My disciples will worry if I don’t catch up with them soon. But-”

“It’s fine. I also have to get back before anyone starts to worry.”

“Let me walk you back,” Jiang Wanyin said in a rush.

Wen Qing wanted to say ‘yes’. Jiang Wanyin was pleasant to look at, after all, and had warm hands. If he was a bit awkward and kept putting his foot in his mouth, well, Wen Qing wasn’t the smoothest individual either and rather liked having someone she could get snippy with. Plus, Wei Wuxian still cared about him and would want to see him. But he was also the master of a Great Sect and her family, small as it was now, had been his sworn enemy.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” she said. “We’ve already been seen together. Someone might recognize us.”

“Only because we’re known here. If we were somewhere else, I would do it. I would buy more than a couple combs for you."

Wen Qing stopped picking at her food and looked at him. There was that expression again, the hopeful puppy one she enjoyed but so often turned away from. She hated saying ‘no’ when he made that face.

So she said ‘yes’ for a change.

‘This is terribly selfish,’ she thought as they walked. Despite saying he shouldn’t spend more money earlier, he bought a rather large amount of baozi, and a couple hair ribbons in neutral tones (he must have noticed her frayed edges, damn him for being observant), ginger and dried peppercorns for her family and chili paste that was clearly for Wei Wuxian, and a very nice kitchen knife. He tested it on his thumb for her, like an idiot, and she used just a bit of her spiritual energy to heal the cut for him, ignoring the small gasp he let out when she took his hand.

(The contact wasn’t long enough, for all it seemed to burn them both. But he took her healing easily and she has no cause to worry about the golden core’s function, and no cause to keep holding on to him.)

He pressed all these items into her hands and she didn’t protest at all. She should, a token refusal for politeness’s sake or a real refusal because this was foolish of him and she couldn’t repay this kindness. But she thought of how well her family would eat tonight, between the fresh vegetables she sent with Wen Ning and these baozi. She didn’t dare take a chance that he would accept a refusal and take it all back.

She carried the baozi in a wooden box while Jiang Wanyin walked beside her, eyes straight ahead and hand on his sword like he was ignoring the people on the street and daring them to say something, all at once. Wen Qing had seen Wen Ruohan and his sons manage it but Jiang Wanyin was too self-conscious to pull it off quite yet. But then, their circumstances were different. Jiang Wanyin’s position was still precarious in many ways, and the Wens of her youth were unquestioned masters of Qishan.

Well. Things changed. Perhaps someday, Jiang Wanyin could walk down the street with a young lady and be confident about it. Wen Qing felt a pang that that young lady would not be her.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed when they reached the edge of town and kept going. Jiang Wanyin was still beside her and it seemed, perhaps not natural but certainly pleasant to feel his stormy presence and see the violet of his robes out of the corner of her eye.

“I shouldn’t go much further,” he finally said. They were at the foot of the Burial Mounds, within sight of the dark forest and the walls.

“You let me walk all this way without thanking you?” Wen Qing set the container of baozi down and bowed. “I want to repay you for this kindness, Jiang-zongzhu. I will find a way.”

“I told you I don’t want repayment,” he said, putting his hands under her elbows to stop her bow from sinking deeper. “We are even and this changes nothing.”

“This is money you weren’t planning to spend. Money that should go back to your sect.”

“My sect is fine and that money was my own!” He stepped closer, forcing her to straighten or hold her bow with her arms pressed against his chest. She chose to straighten her back. “You don’t owe me for this. I wanted to- to check on Wei Wuxian. For A-jie’s sake.”

“And yet you won’t come to see him?”

They stood for a moment, Jiang Wanyin’s hands still on her arms, almost as close as that day in the teahouse when they’d both been chasing Wei Wuxian. She glared up at him in challenge and started to pull her arms away, but he held her fast.

“I can’t. But… I’m not ready for you to go,” he said, and he pulled. She stumbled, two jerky steps, into the circle of his arms.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she started, but her voice trailed off. He was warm and- well, not soft, but his muscles were invitingly firm under his robes. While she contemplated the feel of his chest and the silk of his robes (both very nice and she wanted to spend an hour or two running her hands over them), he wrapped his arms around her.

She was caught. She should have been angry, alarmed. He was the leader of a Great Sect, a danger to her family, and even a normal man could be dangerous to a woman alone. But she was hardly helpless and he had spent his money on them and he didn’t feel dangerous, not now.

‘It’s just a hug,’ she told herself. It was extremely inappropriate, with them being unrelated and unmarried, and even though she was still annoyed (he was infuriating! And infuriatingly inviting), she leaned into it anyway. There was something nice about being held close, secure in the cradle of his arms, hidden from the world by his expensive silks.

“A kiss,” he said, shattering the quiet of forest. She looked up at him. It wasn’t a good angle on him, mostly cheek and sideburn and nostril, but that didn’t calm her wild thoughts at all.

He didn’t look down at her or loosen his hold, and indeed he tightened his grip until she could feel Zidian digging into her shoulder. “What if I said a kiss would make us even?”

Her first response was a resounding ‘Yes!’ Their bodies were pressed together, his arms holding her tight, and she could see his lips, tempting and moist where he licked them in nervousness. A kiss seemed like a natural extension of their embrace.

But she had never traded affection for anything. Not goods, not money, not position, not even safety for her family. ‘I’m not that kind of woman,’ she wanted to say, needed him to know.

She could be, though, if it meant having Jiang Wanyin’s lips on her.

But she took too long thinking about it, and he loosened his hold and started to pull away. “Nevermind,” he snapped. “It was just a whim. I’m not so desperate that I can’t get a woman without bribing her with gifts!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wen Qing said as she grabbed his sleeve. “And I’m not the sort of woman who can be bribed with gifts. Make no mistake about that! When I kiss you, it will be-.”

She was cut off by the crash of his lips against hers. One of his hands grabbed her arm. As if she would try to escape! She let him deepen the kiss, all her hesitation fleeing in her eagerness to have him. She put one arm about his shoulders, and he slipped his other arm around her waist, still holding tight with his other hand as he kissed her.

He tasted of the tea they’d had with their meal, and he held her too tightly and kissed like he was trying to devour her, all tooth and searching tongue. She should have shook him off, demanded he be more gentlemanly.

Instead, she said, “Don’t bite,” nearly breathless. She let him back her against a tree and press himself to her body, and the one harsh kiss softened and became many.

These kisses were not as frantic, but were still demanding, deep and wet. His breath was burning hot against her skin, his body firm under her hands. He had one thigh between her legs and she could feel everything. These kisses? These, she wanted more of.

Why shouldn’t she have this? What good was maintaining her virtue? Making a good marriage would never happen now, and she no longer needed to keep herself chaste as a bargaining chip for her family.

Ah, but he looked down on her family, didn’t he? Would she have any self-respect left if she let Jiang Wanyin touch her? She hoped so, hoped that his small kindness today meant that he wasn’t so bitter.

But did she have any right to touch him, knowing what she did about his golden core?

She flinched, and he loosened his hold on her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that. I know you’re a respectable lady.”

“I… Even respectable ladies have wants,” she confessed. “I just… I have to get back soon. And this isn’t the sort of thing I want to do under a dead tree.”

Hope blossomed in his face, a smile on his kiss-dark lips, and he touched her cheek with more gentleness than he’d shown since before the war. “Agreed. And… I liked spending the afternoon with you, Wen-guniang. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” His tone suggested that had been a possibility, and she found she didn’t want that, either.

She returned to the settlement shortly after, with the box of baozi and an agreement to meet again in ten days. Wen Ning leapt to his feet with a happy “Jie!” when he saw her. Her family gathered around her all talking at once.

“Qing-guniang, what’s all this?”

“I got good deals on some things,” she started to explain, and because the truth was easier than another lie she admitted, “Wei Wuxian’s martial brother sent some, but be quiet about it if you’re in town. He still can’t be known to help us.”

Wei Wuxian’s head peeked over the others’ shoulders as he joined them, drawn out of his cave by the commotion. “Jiang Cheng? Really? What did you say to him to get him to send something over?!”

Wen Qing just smiled at him, and started distributing her acquisitions.

~Notes~

So yeah, at the beginning I mentioned this had a note on the fic concepts, so here it is. Be grateful it's at the end; it was at the beginning at one point.  

This has been kicking around my harddrive for a while in various drafts and levels of completion, and I decided to just wrap it up and start posting it. Right now, I estimate it at 4 chapters. Please do not expect the chapters to be a consistent length; they're looking to be very different.

The concept is to let Wen Qing be the one being taken care of for a change, and to let Jiang Cheng spoil someone he cares about (I believe my initial thought was something like "Jiang Cheng wants to be Wen Qing's sugar daddy but he is not daddy enough at this point").

And I love and firmly believe that Jiang Cheng would go down on a partner and enjoy it, I don't think he could have started out that way. He's in essence a spoiled rich kid with no experience with women, he's going to start off as a stumbling, selfish lover. He has to learn about possibilities, and that's going to involve some fumbling first. And I also love confident and commanding-in-the-bedroom Wen Qing but I don't think she would have much opportunity for that experience in canon. I also very much want Jiang Cheng to support Wei Wuxian in secret ('cause during my first Untamed watching, I thought he was sneaking Wei Wuxian supplies or money during the Burial Mounds exile), for Wen Qing to follow-up on her miraculous and devastating secret surgery (like seriously, she never tried to sense his qi or anything after, not once?! And then some posts floated by my Tumblr dash- iirc, winepresswrath is a ringleader but you can find them kicking around i’m sure- that I was not the only one who thought things like this and I knew I had to do it, at least a little), and for Jiang Cheng to dress Wen Qing up. So I mulled those thoughts for a bit and eventually a couple snippets came to me, and I attempted to make them into a story.

And then I was an idiot and challenged myself to 1) not use any scientific or 'vulgar' terminology in the sex scenes but also not use too much purple prose, no Jiang sect color puns intended at this time, and 2) end it so that the story is, in some way, canon compliant. This is a side moment, something Wei Wuxian knows nothing about and therefore canon theoretically continues uninterrupted. Of course, if you prefer a future where Wen Qing develops the sexual confidence we all know she has in her and rides Jiang Cheng to a different and possibly better fate, please think of that instead (and wish me luck on the idea I had for a canon-divergence sequel).

Next Chapter

[i-like-plan-m]

About your LWJ can hear lies AU- I can’t help but wonder how he would react to Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao since they are both known for being expert manipulators, especially since it’s hinted at that Nie Huaisang had a lot to do with the WW and MX thing. So I wondered if Huaisang would find a way around LWJ’s lie detecting or if he even knows about it? Also, I can just imagine the PAIN LWJ would be in if he had to talk to Jin Guangyao

Oops, I forgot to link this on tumblr! My bad! This is chapter 3 of the lies au

The trip to Qinghe was familiar by now. 

Years of flight between the sects meant Lan Zhan could make the trip with his eyes closed. He kept them open, because the sight of the Qinghe mountain range always brought a sense of relief that was as sharp as the cold air.  

The sight at the gates was becoming a familiar one, too. Nie Huiyin waited for him with all the patience she was capable of, her constant restless energy directed into a small but impeccably crafted blade that she was sharpening like it had done something to offend her. 

It was just her way, Lan Zhan had learned. Nie Mingjue’s cousin was as brusque as he was, infinitely more cheerful and possibly the loudest person Lan Zhan had ever met in his life. She was also, however, the most refreshingly honest person in all five of the great sects, save for perhaps Nie Mingjue himself. 

“Ah!” She said brightly as he landed before her, stepping gracefully from his sword and sweeping it back into the sheath on his back. “It’s our little Lan Zhan, back again!” 

He refused to acknowledge the blush heating his ears and instead nodded in greeting. His composed response did not deter her from tossing a friendly arm around his shoulders and hauling him through the open gates, past the grinning guards and into the towering grasp of the Unclean Realm walls. 

“How have you been, shidi?” She asked. The Nie Sect, Lan Zhan had quickly discovered, lived up to their imposing reputation of strength and honor. They were also the friendliest people in the world, once they’d decided you were theirs. 

Once Lan Zhan's was unofficially acknowledged as a member of the sect leader’s family-- or at least someone held in high regard by Nie-zongzhu himself, the floodgates had opened. He couldn’t decide whether their open affection was embarrassing or not, but it did fill him with a warmth he was unfamiliar with, one that felt like unconditional acceptance. As though they wanted him here. As though they liked him.

He had never had friends before. 

Well. He wasn’t entirely positive that he had any now. But regardless, the Nie Sect disciples treated him with regard. They smiled when they saw him. They welcomed him in their training exercise despite the differences in their sects’ fighting styles. 

Some, like Nie Huiyin, treated him as though he was a part of their sect. Another of Nie Mingjue’s little brothers to look out for, to keep tabs on like he was incapable of taking care of himself. 

It would be insulting if it hadn’t felt so much like acceptance. 

“I have been progressing,” Lan Zhan reported dutifully. “My control has improved further since my last visit.” He didn’t react to lies like someone had stabbed him in the ear the way he once had. With age came control, and a higher pain tolerance, apparently. 

Nie Huiyin made a sound of exasperation. “You Lans, I swear. I meant how have you been? Done anything fun lately?” She jostled him to punctuate her questions. He was slightly cheered by the fact that she had to reach higher than usual to rest an arm over his shoulders; he’d finally hit his growth spurt this summer and was nearing his brother’s height. 

“I mastered Inquiry,” he offered. 

She squinted at him suspiciously. “Is that what you do for fun?” 

“I enjoy it, yes.” 

“Hm. Acceptable. Though my rock climbing offer still stands if you want real fun. There’s nothing more exhilarating than free-falling from a thousand feet, shidi!” Lan Zhan gave a doubtful noise in response that made her laugh. “We catch ourselves before the bottom and take the rest of the fall on our sabers. And then!”

And then they raced through the most dangerous mountain pass in Qinghe on their sabers, chasing adrenaline with as many death-defying stunts they could manage until the pass ended in a dead-drop of a hundred feet. Most of them followed the waterfall straight into the large lake at the bottom. Most of the Nie disciples were reckless enough to try it at least once.

“Scorpion Alley,” he said, familiar with the sect’s unofficial rite of passage. 

“You got it,” she agreed cheerfully. “We still haven’t gotten you out there, have we?” 

“You will not,” he assured her, and bit back a smile when her laugh echoed across the training grounds. It was so different here than in his sect. There was little composure in Qinghe, no reason to stifle laughter or keep words hushed. 

Composure, he’d learned, was another word for concealment. Disguising one’s truthful feelings to reflect serenity instead. A mask that hid the turmoil beneath for the sake of propriety.

It was a lie all the same. 

“I hear your sect is hosting guest disciples next year,” Nie Huiyin said, steering him towards the main hall. 

“Yes.” He made a halfhearted attempt to sound neutral. He must have failed, because she snorted a laugh as she shoved open the doors of the main hall where Nie Mingjue sat, sorting through a stack of reports with a cranky expression. A slender, unfamiliar man with a dimpled smile stood beside the desk, holding a massive accounting book and waiting patiently for Nie Mingjue to stop muttering under his breath. 

Nie Mingjue looked up as the doors swung open. He brightened almost immediately, standing to welcome Lan Zhan with such genuine delight that Lan Zhan ducked his head, pleased. 

“Welcome back,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leading him to one of the nearby tables, gesturing for a servant to bring tea. He sat across from Lan Zhan while Nie Huiyin leaned against a column behind him. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” Lan Zhan said, and tried not to sound petulant. He was almost sixteen, perfectly capable of making the trip from Gusu to Qinghe without trouble. 

“It’s the da-ge instinct, little Lan,” Nie Huiyin said with a laugh, nudging Nie Mingjue with her knee when he scowled up at her. “He can’t help himself.” 

The unfamiliar man hovered in the background as though unsure what to do without Nie MIngjue’s attention. Lan Zhan blinked at him, still unclear on who this newcomer was or how he’d climbed to Nie Mingjue’s side so quickly. Lan Zhan visited often enough that he would have noticed a new person in Nie Mingjue’s inner circle before today, surely. 

Nie Mingjue noticed his distraction and turned to wave the man over. “Ah. Apologies, you two have not met.” The stranger obediently crossed the room and bowed low to Lan Zhan. “This is Lan Wangji, the Second Jade of Lan. And this is Meng Yao, my new deputy.” 

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Lan-er-gongzi.” 

Lan Zhan nodded politely in response and wondered at the faint whisper of a slipped note that accompanied his words. Not quite a lie, but there was something underlying that sounded… off. 

“Da-ge,” Nie Huisang complained, sweeping into the room with a sulking expression. “I already did my saber training today as promised, and Nie Zonghui is trying to make me do more. This is cruel and unjust and-- oh, hi Lan Wangji.” 

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Zhan murmured. 

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Huiasang said brightly, throwing himself down beside them. “Tell me, doesn’t your clan have a rule or twelve about keeping promises?” 

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Meng Yao hid a smile like he’d witnessed many similar discussions like this one. 

Then again, so had Lan Zhan. The Nie’s bickering was as constant as stars in the sky. It had taken some getting used to, but now Lan Zhan let it pass over him as background noise. It was all born from a place of love, and even the small lies (like Nie Huaisang’s mistruth about the duration of his promised saber practice) were easily ignored. 

Meng Yao, though. He was odd. 

Lan Zhan kept his face carefully neutral whenever Meng Yao’s smiles rang false, which was… often. He smiled like he knew it was expected of him, not because he wanted to. Like he was playing a role, either for the sect leader’s benefit or his own. 

It had been a few years since his lessons with Lan Xichen on the reasons why people lie, but most of it was… still hard to understand. So when Meng Yao responded to direction throughout the rest of Lan Zhan’s visit with a demure, “I would be honored, Sect Leader” and it rang discordant every time, Lan Zhan thought it was perhaps time to ask for help. 

Only a few years ago, Lan Zhan had accidentally exposed an advisor in Qinghe who had been bought off by merchants in the city. Every bit of his advice and own influence had been manipulated to support the merchants. 

Of course, when Lan Zhan was in the room and realized the advisor’s input sounded like a drunkard playing a dizi, he’d signaled to Nie Mingjue, who then rooted out the reason for his lies. Lan Zhan was not capable of doing so himself-- he only knew when people lied, never their reason for it. 

Shortly after Nie Mingjue had personally tossed the advisor out of the Unclean Realm’s gates, Lan Zhan had discovered a shadow wandering around on his heels. 

“How’d you know he was lying?” Nie Huaisang asked curiously. He continued when Lan Zhan stood frozen in place, unsure how to respond. “I saw your cue to da-ge. The hand signal?”

“I…” He had no idea what to do. Brush him off? Explain his mother’s gift? Deny it entirely? 

No. That was dishonest. 

He swallowed hard and admitted, “I can hear lies.” 

“Really?” Nie Huaisang’s eyes brightened. “So you knew the advisor was corrupt?” 

“No. Just that he lied.” 

“Hm. Interesting. So just the lie, not the intention?” The ever-present fan fluttered as Nie Huaisang stared thoughtfully at him. He nodded once in agreement. “You hear it?”

Lan Zhan realized he’d been absently following Nie Huaisang’s meandering pace along one of the walls. They were alone, so he reluctantly shared, “It was a gift from my mother, before she died. I hear conversations like music, and lies are…”

“Horrible, mangled sounds?” Nie Huaisang asked dryly. “My music tutors tell me that’s what I sound like when I play, anyway.” 

His face did not show the flicker of humor he felt. “Yes.”

“Is there anything other than the curse that tells you when they lie? Like, if their voice sounds nervous or their breathing is too fast?” 

Lan Zhan paused. He’d never thought of that, of looking past the sound of the curse to identify the physiological aspects of the liars. Why would he? There was irrefutable proof from the curse. 

But not looking further felt… lazy. Like willful ignorance. That he could not abide. 

“I will observe from now on,” he decided. 

“Me too!” Nie Huaisang caught his skeptical side-eye, because he sighed like he alone bore the weight of the universe and said, “I’m just saying, it seems like a useful skill. That advisor got past me, too, you know, and I spend a lot of time listening to their incredibly boring conversations.” 

“Boring conversations about running the sect.” If the disapproval wasn’t clear on his face, it was evident in his tone. 

“Exactly,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But I learned my lesson, Lan-er-gongzi, all thanks to you! We should practice together, don’t you think? How about just before lunch every day?” 

“That is the time of your saber training,” Lan Zhan, who was not an idiot, said. 

“Is it?” Nie Huaisang asked, blinking innocently at him. “Ah, well, da-ge can’t complain if I’m busy making our favorite guest feel welcome!” 

“We will spar together before lunch,” Lan Zhan decided, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s horrified expression. “And then study during lunch.” 

“No,” Nie Huaisang wailed. “How can I learn to read people if I’ve been pummeled into the dirt by the Second Jade of Lan?”

“I would not,” Lan Zhan said, offended. “You are not capable of a legitimate spar--” 

“No shit!” 

“--so instead I will help with your training.” 

“Somehow this turned out very badly for me,” Nie Huaisang muttered, but he was at the training grounds mostly on time later that day all the same. 

That was two years ago. 

After two years of shared study, they had something that was not quite a friendship. Lan Zhan had never lost the sense of awkwardness around Nie Huaisang-- he was never quite sure how to interact, wasn’t sure what his role was in this relationship. 

Nie Huaisang mostly just complained to him about everything under the sun. But every time Lan Zhan visited, he showed up to the training grounds with an expression of utmost suffering. He only remembered his saber half the time, and he tripped over his own feet often enough Lan Zhan feared for his life, but he showed up. 

So Lan Zhan knew his concerns would be heard if he took them to Nie Huaisang. Maybe he would have more insight into Meng Yao’s oddities-- Nie Huaisang understood people the way Lan Zhan didn’t. He couldn’t hear lies, but he could see them. 

Most of the time, anyway. He’d learned to read faces where Lan Zhan heard the mistruths. It was a training method with guaranteed reliability, and Nie Huaisang’s success had surprised him. Apparently he was highly capable when he actually applied himself. Too bad he didn’t want to. 

Still. He would listen to Lan Zhan, and he would help. That much was certain.

[yibo-wang]

Do you really like Jiang Cheng (the untamed) as a character? I just feel like, he never gave any regard/reasonable doubt to wuxian ever unless his own honor had been brought to question. He never stood up for him, didn’t try to understand him. All I saw was a character that found himself incompetent against wuxian and let his jealousy guide his reasoning for pushing wuxian away. Like yeah, wuxian choose the wen people... After he gave him an ultimatum? I don’t know, maybe I’m too critical?

no lie my emotions concerning jiang cheng were very mixed throughout the series. during my first watch I had to often stop when jc and wwx had fights after the yiling patriarch storyline started to make myself understand what jc's thought process behind his actions, so I didn't hate him unjustly.

let's start from the beginning of their relationship, ie when they're kids because this is the latest ep I rewatched.

wwx is brought by jiang fengmian and immediately upon his arrival jc has his dogs taken away which according to yanli are 'the apple of his eyes' and that's why he was sad but she explains it was jc who was worried about wwx and asked yanli to find him in the first place.

His ‘you shouldn’t have played hero then and shouldn’t have cared for that hot potato, you should’ve just come with me and you’d be safe’ after the wangxian cave scene, he says this out of anger at which his father scolds him about but it’s misinterpreted by him but wwx understands that what his brother said was out of concern for him.

“it is he(jiang cheng) who advised me to ask you to give the courtesy name to the baby”

we know that jc has always been an bad tempered person. that he speaks without a thought when he's angry and is prone to lash out but then he always comes to regret it later like in the above two situations but that doesnt mean he doesnt love his brother.

one of my favourite line is,

alot of things jc says and does have got to do with madam yu and her pinning jc and wwx against eachother.  she worries (and lashes out at her son and husband) and sees the way jf differentiates  between jc and wwx, which is basically rubbing it in on her biggest insecurity just like how jf preferred wwx’s mom over her and so comes her horrible parenting style.

This line is so small but it so imp to jiang cheng’s character. He tries not to balantly show that he cares about wwx that’s why a lot of people disregard his feelings.

(Gonna blame jf here too, for not showing jiang cheng enough love for the sake that he's going  to become the future sect leader like dude show your kid some love)

jc’s despite being the younger sibling, he has to act like the older one because

forget love, jc doesnt even think his father likes him

This also leads to jc feeling like he was wwx’s shadow. wwx is better at fighting, he's smart and and he's all around someone who understands what the jiang clan and their principles  stands for and intentionally or unintentionally follows them, leading to everyone praising him.

Like how, when he heard that the only reason jc became a famous clan leader was because of wwx victory at sunshot campaign.

1) wwx is very childish

2) jc is the future clan leader so he needs to act this way (which is the reason he's always scolding wwx despite the fact that he wants to join him in his pranks and just be a 16 yr old sometimes like how they’re were messing around at cloud recesses while going home) am I projecting here? maybe I am, but these are my feelings on jc lol).

Even though it’s shown that jc worries about their clans reputation because of wwx like when they're going to cloud recesses the first time "pupils from all famous clans will come, don’t let other look down upon us", he knows that everyone and he himself always seems to love wwx anyway

because the thing is jc isn’t jealous of his brother. he, (like @gaysarawat said in his tags) honest to god just wants to be his equal, he wants wwx to see him as his equal and not just protect him as his younger brother (I don’t wanna delve on how wwx character was about protecting jc because he thought he owed his life to the jian family because jf adopted him from the streets and with the constant reminders by madam yu that jc is to be their future clan leader so he has to protect him).

again, jc worries about wwx, he just has a weird way of showing it. weird being, he can’t show that he's being soft when it comes to him and my take is that it’s he can’t be seen showing any feelings and that comes with the fact that he's the future clan leader and that they have to be dignified (like how he says to wwx that playing with rabbits isn’t an upright gentleman thing to do’)

but then a few seconds later

(lwj who, in short, jc thinks is replacing the place wwx has in his heart for jc. oh my sweet dumb child, jc)

jc worries about his brother a lot, his initial reaction when wwx is hurt after the cave scene is of worry and you can see it on his face and the way he holds his shoulder. But then he sees he’s being soft, he immediately changes his tone and hits wwx on his chest and expresses his emotions by cloaking them in anger.

Right after that, wwx asks about lwj another topic jc is sour about and jc literally says that everyone got injured lwj isn’t special. like dude zx and I didn’t stop for a second to come and save you and you’re still going about lwj who’s already left you here.  

I didn't know it would get this long, but imma just touch in lightly on the ultimatum part first (I think you mean the scene in the cave before their fight),

its that wwx tells him to cut him off from the clan after jc says "wwx you don’t understand the situation at hand, if you persist in defending them, I wont be able to protect you"

Which according to me is more in the sense that I can't protect you since all four clans are opposing the wens right now and since you're sheltering them they're out for your blood too so just come home with me and let me keep you safe for once.

It's not that jc isn’t at fault, what he doesn’t realise is that if they did stick together they could've actually made the situation better but he was young and influenced by all the elder clans which led them to drift apart so much.

Despite cutting off wwx, they only have a staged fight for the protection of jian clan, and jc doesn't cut ties with him himself.

The point im trying to make is that jc isn’t like wwx and that’s what we’ve been shown and what jc sees as well.

Unlike wwx who’s ready to stand against the world to protect the wen clan, leaving behind everything,  jiang cheng doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand how wwx can leave his family for a bunch of unknown people and that too wen clan (who were the reason why lotus pier was destroyed, why his parents died). jc does love people but he loves them differently. He isn’t going to give up his life for just about anyone, he isn’t that self-sacrificing person wwx is. that is why he doesn’t understand why wwx stayed behind in the cave for lwj either. but he does love wwx and would sacrifice himseld for him like when we find out in ep 50 that jc willingly lets the wen soldiers find him so that wwx can be safe, he is literally willing to die for wwx when he makes that choice.

Post wwx death, it’s shown it wasn’t only lwj who searches for wwx but also jc. he’s the one who keeps his flute awaiting his explanation. If we look at jc, he lost his family, his clan and everyone is a matter of hours, he then loses his brother in law (despite what he feels for him, then his sister and finally his brother to demonic cultivation and finally to death. he hasn’t had an easy childhood or upbringing with his parents constantly fighting and his father considering him second to his brother.

the ‘take care’ at the end of of the series is what makes my heart hurt so much because he still loves his brother so much and what i wouldn’t do to get these two to hug it out. 

Jiang cheng isn’t your typical hero character, his actions are shown to be influenced by his surrounding and upbringing which makes him human and i love him for that.

Anyway this is basically just aamna's feelings on jiang cheng because he deserves to be protected and loved.

[satonthelotuspier]

Fur and Feathers

So, a Shifter AU. I’ll probably dip into this verse quite a bit. This is part 1 of XiCheng, pre-relationship (at the Cloud Recesses) and setting it up for the  later parts of their story and relationship. There’ll definitely be some Wangxian to be written here as well as more XiCheng. Throw your requests at me if you want to see other’s etc and I’ll see if I can fit them into the verse. It wasn’t touched on for the purpose of this fic but LXC is a mountain hawk-eagle, I love how this fits because many of the pictures I’ve seen have the MHE having a tufty cluster of feathers on their head which is similar to the ornament LXC wears in the live action version.

Title taken from Jordan L Hawke’s hexworld series where the animal familiars tend to use “fur and feathers” as a curse/exclamation, because I’m not very creative with titles.

3.4k of cats being cats. Crack, probably?

XiCheng Part 1

Why had he let Wei Wuxian talk him into this? Jiang Cheng thought in despair as his sleek, black-furred body slipped urgently from deep shadow to shadow, trying to avoid the Lan Sect disciples who he could hear follow behind with their light, even steps. He panicked, crouched low to the ground in the lee of a bush and looked around for any escape.

There, there was a door that was still open to the cool night air.

He put everything he had into his legs and made a dash for the doorway.

The Lan disciples spotted the form of deeper shadow moving in the darkness of the night, but as he made the door he heard one of them stop the other, “You know we can’t enter the Hanshi, Zewu-jun will have to deal with whatever it is...”

Zewu-jun! Lan Xichen! Oh fuck. His claws scrabbled to gain purchase on the wooden floor.

He had to get out of the Hanshi, now, at all costs. He’d rather face the two chasing disciples than Lan Xichen, with him vulnerable in this form.

He had just altered his momentum and changed direction for the opened doorway again, when he felt gentle hands catch him around the ribcage and lift him up.

He yowled in outrage; take your hands off of me, how dare you ruffle my beautiful, sleek fur.

“Calm down, little one” the gentle, melodious voice was of course the First Jade of Lan’s; he was in so much trouble, “What a beautiful little thing you are. I wonder where you came from. None of the new students are registered as cat shifters”

That was his mother’s fault, Madam Yu Ziyuan was mortally embarrassed her male child, instead of a majestic king cat like his tigress sister, or even a sturdy, protective dog breed like his “useless” Samoyed father, had dared to be born a domestic cat shifter. You just couldn’t trust genetics.

He hissed at the sudden movement as Lan Xichen lifted him, and he wanted to dig a hole to bury himself when he realised the other was checking his bits to determine his sex.

I will scratch your insolent eyes out, shameless creature, he howled his rage, claws flexing impotently at the end of his delicate paws.

“There, there” he was folded into the other’s arms, “such a beautiful little boy” a soft finger scratched gently at his head.

No, please, no, no, no. This was bad…

The finger moved down the scruff of his neck and hit the point directly between his slender shoulder blades.

Nooooo.

He couldn’t stop the gentle rumble that began deep in his chest as Lan Xichen rubbed at one of the spots that was guaranteed to coax his purr from him.

He wanted to dig that hole even deeper as the sound of contentment and pleasure rolled from him in waves. Like most shifters sometimes his instincts were stronger than his ability to suppress them, and sometimes Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but want to curl up in someone’s lap and be stroked like the precious baby his animal was.

Wei Wuxian loved to tease him about it. But then what did Wei Wuxian not like to tease anyone about?

He couldn’t complain too much as Wei Wuxian, his adopted brother and Jiang Yanli, his elder sister, were the only two people he could really ask to provide such a service on demand.

“That’s such a lovely sound” Lan Xichen complimented him, keeping up the fusses that caused it, perpetuating Jiang Cheng’s internal conflict.

Lan Xichen moved over to the table that contained a half-used tea set, and sat down, with Jiang Cheng in his lap.

It turned out the only shameless thing was himself, as he curled up, nose under tail, and let his animal take complete control.

It was much later that evening when Jiang Cheng stirred himself; he really ought to think about escaping and returning back to Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang, who would no doubt be enjoying their smuggled Emperor’s Smile, safely achieved due to Jiang Cheng’s drawing the patrolling Lan disciples away.

He rose to four paws and stretched lazily, but as he looked up into the delicate, handsome face of the first Jade of Lan, he caught such a look of melancholy and sadness he was shocked into stillness.

Lan Xichen seemed to come back from his thoughts, and the look vanished, as he realised the black cat had moved.

“Did you have a nice nap, xiao-Zizi?”

Little Purple, because of the unusual colour of his eyes in cat form.

Even though he had banished the sadness from his face there was an aura that clung to him, and Jiang Cheng’s soft heart, which he kept buried deeply under layers or sarcasm, anger and a pretence of not caring, thrummed in sympathy.

He swallowed every ounce of pride he possessed, then stretched his claws up so he  stood on his back paws, with his front on the shoulder of Lan Xichen’s robes, then he rubbed his cheek against Lan Xichen’s. This was usually a cat’s way of marking it’s family, but it was also very cute and guaranteed to make a gentle soul like Lan Xichen smile.

It did, and Jiang Cheng mewled in approval as the other’s mouth curved gently.

He considered his role fulfilled, and jumped down from Lan Xichen’s lap with the intention of leaving. Except there was a tassel. It was attached to the jade pendant hanging from Lan Xichen’s belt.

Instincts again took him as he leapt forward to catch it under his front paws, claws digging into the threads and robes.

His cat’s body, like his human body, was just reaching the end of childhood; it was all gangly legs and too-big paws and playfulness, and it was a lot harder to stop his kitten’s urge to play than it was his human’s; where he was expected to show a much higher level of maturity.

Instead of the telling off he expected Lan Xichen merely chuckled and actually began to tease him with the tassel, allowing him to chase and pounce and hunt, butt-wiggle and all. He even detached it from the pendant and tossed it across the room to watch as the leggy young cat scrabbled over to enact a killing pounce.

By the end of their playtime Jiang Cheng was so exhausted that when Lan Xichen went to sleep he also curled up on the other’s chest, uncaring of the impropriety because he was a cat, and cats didn’t care about rules. It also meant he got extra fusses, which cats, despite their sometimes cold demeanours, did care about.

***

He had hugely miscalculated, Jiang Cheng realised as he woke up the next morning alone and curled with his nose under his tail on Lan Xichen’s bed.

It wasn’t much after five in the morning, but classes began soon, and he had to make his way back across the Cloud Recesses, without the security of night shadows the colour of his fur, to hide in.

He stretched, then slunk out of the Hanshi’s door to assess his trip.

It was misty and cool and there was dew everywhere; he was going to hate this. Unless he turned back to his human form. Honestly he was ready to let his cat instincts lie for a while now anyway; they had been given free reign far too much the previous evening, and if his mother found out he would be in serious trouble.

But his human form provided far too many other complications, like explaining what a visiting disciple was doing in the first young lord of Lan’s private sanctum, and the fact he was neither stealthy nor small enough to evade detection in it.

His cat would just have to suck it up and travel through the dew-strewn morning.

He matched actions to thoughts and eventually arrived safely back at their lodgings.

Wei Wuxian scooped him up as he opened the door to Jiang Cheng’s scratching.

“Where have you been? We were just about to start combing the entire Cloud Recesses for you” Wei Wuxian set him down on his bed, and gave him the space to return to his human form.

Which he did with a deep sigh of relief.

“I was trapped in the Hanshi, with Lan Xichen. I had to stay a cat or I’d have been in so much trouble. Sometimes I suppose A-Niang’s refusal to acknowledge that I’m a cat shifter has it’s uses” he tried to make a joke of it, as he always did, but it never cut him any less that he was a disappointment to his family on something he had absolutely no control over at all.

His mother always registered his shifter form as a Xiasi hound.

Wei Wuxian held his tongue on that subject.

Nie Huaisang, who had become firm friends with the two Yunmeng boys during their first few days in Gusu, fluttered his fan nervously, ���You spent the night in Lan Xichen’s rooms?”

“I was being chased by two Lan Disciples, and I ducked through the nearest door. They didn’t follow me into the Hanshi. But Lan Xichen was there, so I couldn’t get away. I had to cat”

“I would have paid to have seen you acting all cute with the First Jade of Lan” Wei Wuxian grinned, enormously entertained by the thought, “But we can’t let him find out it was you” he agreed. “You should get changed, we’ll be late for class”

“I need to bathe” really, the only thing that ruled Jiang Cheng’s world in both forms was his rigorous personal hygiene routine. He would rather die than cut it short in any way.

Wei Wuxian was fully aware of what Jiang Cheng was like and had kept a bath drawn for him.

“It will be cold, sorry, be quick, you’ll draw attention to yourself if you’re late” Wei Wuxian informed him as he moved to the door with Nie Huaisang in tow.

“I know, I’ll be done as soon as possible”

The other two left him to his toilette as he began shedding robes.

***

Carefully groomed he made it just in time to slip into the classroom and kneel at his desk before Lan Qiren and his eldest nephew, Lan Xichen arrived.

They found out immediately what Lan Xichen’s attendance was for; Jiang Cheng should have known he wouldn’t let the sudden, unexplained appearance of a cat lie.

Under the pretence of checking their administration they questioned if there were any cat shifters present as someone had thought they might have seen one the previous evening.

Jiang Cheng lowered his gaze, hiding his flush with the fall of his hair, and Wei Wuxian, being Wei Wuxian, decided to distract the room.

“Are they sure it wasn’t a sable, Lan-gongzi? I’m a sable, look at how cute I am” and he slipped into his animal form and dashed to the front of the classroom and onto the desk to show off his cuteness.

The rest of the classroom of course found this greatly amusing, and even Lan Xichen smiled a little.

“Yes, thank you Wei-gongzi, for the demonstration” he picked Wei Wuxian up and returned him to his own desk, more to protect the younger man from his uncle’s ire than any other reason, and Wei Wuxian returned to his human form.

“See, I look a lot like a cat, right?” Wei Wuxian asked with a huge smile; one that got him out of trouble with Jiang Cheng’s father every time.

“I’ll bear that in mind, Wei-gongzi” Lan Xichen left soon afterwards, having received no further clue as to the identity of his night time visitor.

***

He was returning from the library pavilion late the following evening when Jiang Cheng stumbled upon the Two Jades of Lan, who were strolling towards the Lan living areas in the soft moonlight; and Jiang Cheng caught the tail end of their conversation.

“How are you and Wei-gongzi getting along, Wangji?”

What had Jiang Cheng missed?

Apparently whatever it was, Lan Wangji had also missed it.

“Xiongzhang, I don’t understand? Wei Wuxian and I have no interaction outside of uncle’s classroom. He’s frivolous, careless, and irreverent. He also makes my nose twitch”

“That would be your inner rabbit” there was a small smile in Lan Xichen’s voice, “You should try to make more friends your own age while we have so many young cultivators here at the Cloud Recesses, Wangji, Wei-gongzi’s personality is a little trying, I’ll grant you, but he has a large heart, and he’s very personable. He would balance out your more reserved personality, and vice versa. Friendships often work best when opposites attract”

There was a soft “hmph” from the younger Jade, and the sound of gravel underfoot quickened, indicating Lan Wangji walked away from his elder brother, who chuckled softly.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t meant to spy on them, but the moment he had heard Wei Wuxian being talked of he had assumed his cat form and followed the two Jades from the shadows, ensuring he was on hand if Wei Wuxian’s reputation needed protecting. Lan Xichen had spoken nothing if not the truth, however, so now Jiang Cheng found himself left alone in the shadows near the elder Lan sibling.

He was about to stealth away when he noticed the other look up at the stars briefly. That melancholic aura surrounded him again, and Jiang Cheng was caught between following his first intention of leaving, or making himself known and trying to cheer up the elder Jade.

He tried to tell himself it wasn’t his responsibility; everyone had their own worries to carry in this world, and Lan Xichen’s were nothing to do with him.

It would have been useful if he ever listened to his own good advice.

Instead he slunk out of the shadows and pressed against Lan Xichen’s ankles.

***

Thus began nights of his sneaking off to provide whatever comfort and distraction he could to the Lan Sect heir.

He didn’t allow himself to be caught out like on the first morning though, and around the change of a day he would slink away back to his rooms, sometimes to find Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang engaged in drinking, which he would join them in.

Wei Wuxian began talking quite a lot about Lan Wangji, especially in his cups and Jiang Cheng couldn’t help thinking about the conversation he had overheard between the Lan siblings.

From what Wei Wuxian said it seemed Lan er-gongzi was as unreceptive of the advances Wei Wuxian made as he had been when Lan Xichen had suggested to Lan Wangji that he try to make friends.

Really Jiang Cheng wasn’t surprised; he loved Wei Wuxian like a brother, (if he was pushed on the matter and forced to admit his feelings), but he wasn’t blind to the fact Wei Wuxian was an acquired taste, and one his own palate wasn’t fully inured to on occasion.

It continued so for some weeks.

Until one night he was guilted into staying with Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang after the former had made a successful trip down the mountain to obtain Emperor’s Smile.

Although Wei Wuxian had a high tolerance for alcohol it did loosen his tongue, and he began complaining.

“You don’t mark us as much anymore” there was a definite pout in his voice, and Jiang Cheng started. He referred of course to the rub of a cheek against family and close friends Jiang Cheng used to scent people as his social group.

“Yes I do. As much as I can get away with here in Gusu, I can’t do it as freely as at Lotus Pier Wei Wuxian, you know what would happen to me if mother found out I let the cat out of the bag”

Wei Wuxian found his choice of idiom hilarious and laughed heartily, while Nie Huaisang waved his fan at Wei Wuxian, urging him to be quiet less they be discovered.

Then he did quieten, “No you don’t, and you never want to stay and drink with us, and Huaisang has such amazing pornography too. All you want to do is sneak away to be with Lan Xichen” the size of the pout in his voice had increased at least threefold.

He supposed he couldn’t deny he had spent most of the past weeks playing therapy animal in the Hanshi.

“Wei Wuxian, don’t be like that…”

“You give him all my fusses, you haven’t wanted to curl up in my lap since we got here. I’m your brother, I have a right!”

The last sentence was spoken at the same time as Jiang Cheng said: “Wei Wuxian…” and a third voice from the doorway added to the cacophony.

“So it was you” Lan Xichen, summoned to catch them drinking by a patrolling disciple, had walked in at the perfect point in the conversation to finally find out who the mysterious cat who visited him most nights was.

He sounded enraged.

“I would love to know what kind of silly entertainment you all took from your little scheme, but...well, never mind”

“It wasn’t entertainment” Jiang Cheng jumped to his feet, his panic dissipating into anger. His gesture had been meant as nothing but kindness, even enacted under the cloak of secrecy, and he didn’t feel he deserved such censure.

“That’s quite enough, Jiang-gongzi, you will all be punished in the morning for the rules you have broken. I feel I should write to the Council of Elders and inform them you’re misrepresenting yourself on shifter registers, too”

That threat cut deeper than any other Lan Xichen could have made, and Jiang Cheng’s already ashen complexion went a shade paler.

“You can’t, you don’t understand…”

“I said that’s enough” and the first Jade of Lan turned and left.

***

Jiang Cheng stayed only long enough to receive his punishment the following morning, then set out back to Yunmeng to enact damage control and explain to Madam Yu that her falsifying of his shifter records might be brought to light.

She was enraged, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think there was a safe space in the world for him at that moment. If he wasn’t reminded constantly what a fool he had been by his mother, he was reminded by his own memories and Lan Xichen’s anger.

He could only stay out of her way; hiding for the most part with Jiang Yanli.

His sister kept him sane, giving him the sympathy and protection he so desperately needed at the moment.

Wei Wuxian wrote shortly after his return, to inform him he had spoken rather sharply on his behalf to Lan Xichen, explaining his motivations, that it definitely hadn’t been for the purposes of entertainment at the first Jade’s expense.

He had also begged the other to not write to the Council of Elders, explaining it wasn’t Jiang Cheng’s choice, nor fault, that he was falsely registered on all his shifter documentation.

A while later he received a second letter. The cloud seal, and elegant script suggested it might be from Lan Xichen. His childish first instinct was to burn it immediately, unread.  He was still bitter the other hadn’t given him a chance to explain, and had had him punished for a kindness.

But he also wanted vindication.

Eventually the second motivation won out and he read it.

It wasn’t quite the full exoneration he had wanted. But the Lan Sect heir did apologise for reacting as he had, so immediately and without allowing Jiang Cheng to offer any defence on his own behalf.

Lan Xichen informed him he wouldn’t write to the Council, and that he would keep his secret on that issue given the circumstances.

Lan Xichen did still blame him for being so secretive about his identity, and said he should never have assumed Lan Xichen would welcome that kind of interference. Which Jiang Cheng accepted fully. He had entirely taken it upon himself to provide comfort.

Finally the first Jade of Lan suggested they meet to discuss the matter and set it to rest.

Not a chance.

Once he had read the letter fully Jiang Cheng did burn it, and didn’t reply.

A fourteen year old boy, no matter how mature he was expected to be, wouldn’t so easily forgive such a humiliation.

[somepinkthing]

untitled fic: jin ling finds the remnants of the camps part II

[part 1]

“Jin Ling? Sizhui and Jingyi told me you were here! What’s up, did you miss me?” Wei Wuxian chirped, bouncing over to where Jin Ling was kneeling.

“What are you doing kneeling outside the jingshi? Did you do something bad?”

Jin Ling shook his head childishly.

Wei Wuxian’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, “Did you upset Jingyi again? Don’t worry, don’t worry. Your great, fantastic, beautiful uncle will help you smooth it over. Now, tell me, what did you do? You run your mouth again?”

Wei Wuxian’s babble immediately stopped upon seeing Jin Ling’s face.

“Jin Ling?” he asked.

“Where,” Jin Ling paused to lick his impossibly dry lips. He couldn’t remember if he’d drank anything yet today and he didn’t really care if he hadn’t. 

“Where’s Wen Ning? I need to talk to him.”

Jin Ling always knew Wei Wuxian to be an incredibly expressive person. He often wondered how he’d ever managed to fool so many people for so long with how he wore every single emotion he had all over his entire body. For example, the second Jin Ling finished speaking, Wei Wuxian’s entire person sagged. Jin Ling could read resignation, upset, and a bone deep sadness that often trailed in Wei Wuxian’s shadow but rarely managed to overtake him like this.

One look at his shijiu and Jin Ling knew that he knew exactly what this was about.

He knew, jiujiu knew, all of his sect seemed to know.

So it was just stupid little Jin Ling that was left in the dark again, huh?

“Jin Ling, come inside. Tell me what happened. I-I’ll answer any questions you have, just come in and get warmed up first.”

---

Jin Ling told Wei Wuxian everything over tea. He would have thought he’d be reluctant to but the words just came tumbling out. He hadn’t really slept for the past week, he had barely eaten. Honestly, just saying it and seeing Wei Wuxian nod along was a relief. At least it helped him feel he wasn’t crazy. At least someone seemed willing to acknowledge what he’d seen.

“I see. So they had buried them there....”

“Buried them?! Buried who?!” Jin Ling yelled, finally losing his patience, “Who are they? Why are they there?!”

Wei Wuxian sighed.

“Jin Ling, you already know. Please don’t make me say it. Don’t make me tell you.”

Jin Ling could hear the despair in Wei Wuxian’s voice. Usually, he’d know to stop pushing there. He hated to hear it and, usually, it wasn’t a topic he was willing to push. But not this time. This time he’d found mass graves right at his doorstep.

He deserved to know. He should have been told!

His sect elders should have answered him.

His jiujiu should have written back to him by now.

Everyone should have warned him.

“Tell me. You promised to tell me. I’ve pegged you for a lot, Wei Wuxian, but I never pegged you as someone who went back on their word!”

Wei Wuxian let out a slight chuckle. 

“Always with the dramatics,” he muttered, “One little thing doesn’t go your way and you’re throwing such a tantrum? You really are your uncle’s student.”

He shook his head and poured them both some more tea.

“Alright, Sect Leader Jin. You have a point. I said what I said. Ask me anything and I will answer.”

Jin Ling opened his mouth, only to snap it shut again. What could he ask? Where did he start? He had a million questions. The bodies, sure, but Wei Wuxian was right. He already knew who they were. But why so many? Why were they there? Why were some of them so obviously farmers? Why children? Why did they have to die? Why wasn’t Jin Ling told?

So many questions and each one lead straight to another one. 

“Tell me everything--everything from your point of view. What happened during the Sunshot Campaign? Why were those bodies there? Why did I never hear about that battle? Why... why children?”

Wei Wuxian froze. 

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“There’s a lot. A lot of context to explain too.”

“I want to hear it.” 

He had to hear it. He had to know.

Wei Wuxian shook his head. He hopped to his feet and sauntered over to the window.

“Ah, you there!” he motioned to one of the disciples passing by, “Bring Sect Leader Jin some more refreshments, will you? And tell Lan Zhan to give us some time alone. We might be here a while...”

---

And so, We Wuxian started to speak.

---

“I never heard of grandmother being like this. Jiujiu only ever tells me she was the strongest woman he’s ever known.”

“You were bothering Hanguang-jun from that early on, huh? What the hell did he see in you?”

“Father said what about mother?”

“You-you! Shameless! You pulled off Hanguang-jun’s headband?! In front of everyone? Before you were even courting? You basically stole his-his. And in public too. I can’t believe you! He didn’t kill you?”

“My father stood up for the girl with you? He did that? And none of you even had your swords...”

“I’ve seen the Xuanwu’s skull, you braggart. I know for a fact it wasn’t that big, stop bullshitting me!”

“Su She shot you? What an ungrateful--!”

“You really did break that promise. Jiujiu must have been heartbroken...”

“Wen Chao... It was all his fault....”

“You gave jiujiu your what?!”

“You were really in there that long? So that’s how you gained so much resentful energy. The Burial Mounds...”

“That’s... that’s a little too much, isn’t it? Even if it was Wen Chao...”

“Stygian Tiger Seal. No one ever told me it was used to win the war before it was, well...”

“How did you manage to mistake Hanguang-jun for a shy maiden? Even if you couldn’t see, shouldn’t it have been obvious?.... What!? Your first kiss? That late? With your shamelessness? Even I’ve been kissed already! N-Not that it’s any of your business!”

“Father....that’s so humiliating....”

“Wen Qing sounds nice. Um, for a Wen that is..... SHUT UP! Don’t speculate about my type!”

“C-camps? What kind of camps?”

“Wen Ning died like that? You’re lying, he died in battle. Right?!”

“Why did you leave the sect? Why didn’t you ask jiujiu for help? It couldn’t have hurt to ask!”

“Did you two really have to go at it that hard? I know, you had to make it believable. Still...”

“Mother in a wedding gown... I would have loved to see her. I bet she was beautiful.”

“They sound nice. For Wens, I mean.”

“They attacked you while you were unarmed? With that many men? Was Jin Zixun really that dishonorable a man? Everyone told me he was a great warrior.”

“My gift...”

“Father...”

“Wen Qing.... Wen Ning....”

“The Nightless City Conference wasn’t the pact conference, that came after your attack. Grandfather gave his word and jiujiu wouldn’t just agree to attack you just like that. And you threw the first blow anyways, not us. You’re mixing things up again... aren’t you?”

“Did you really think you could stop all of the sects then and there? What were you hoping to accomplish?!”

“M-mother...”

“He attacked 33 of his own sect members? But the punishment for that is--!”

“T-they killed everyone? Everyone everyone? Even the old lady? My grandfather really ordered that?”

“Why can’t you tell me what happened to the child? Can you at least tell me if they made it? Are they okay? Do you know?”

“Everyone always told me jiujiu landed the final blow. I guess, now that I think about it, Jiujiu never once confirmed that for me. He doesn’t like to talk about it, you know. That siege is basically a taboo at Lotus Pier, everyone’s afraid to mention it. I asked him about it once and he made me kneel in the ancestral hall for a whole night.”

---

“--and now you know everything,” Wei Wuxian finished, “Well, everything I can tell you. Remember that this is just my version, Jin Ling. Everyone’s got a different story.”

“No, they don’t.”

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow.

“Sure they do?”

“No!” Jin Ling roared, “They don’t! They don’t all have different stories! Everyone, for my whole life, has only ever told me one version! Their version! One lie! And, like some stupid child, I believed them! I never questioned them, I never asked. And now I have all those damn bodies that I can’t even ignore! What am I supposed to do with that? What does any of that mean? Why didn’t anyone just tell me the truth?!”

Jin Ling started pacing angrily around the room, trying to get his feet to move as fast as his racing thoughts. They lied. They lied, they lied. they lied they lied theyliedtheyliedthey--

“Jin Ling, calm down!”

“Don’t! Don’t tell me to calm down! You don’t get to discipline me! None of you get to tell me what’s right or wrong anymore!” Jin Ling roared, rounding on his uncle.

“Why didn’t you tell me then? The rest of them were afraid to; they were ashamed, I see that now. And they should be! But what standing could you have possibly lost by telling me the truth?”

“Jin Ling, I didn’t know for sure you’d uncover any bodies!” Wei Wuxian pleaded, getting to his feet and putting his hands on his nephew’s shoulders. 

“I didn’t want you to lose faith in the people around you,” he admitted with a sigh.

“Even if they never deserved my faith in the first place? Even if that meant lying to me? Why do you get to decide that for me? Why does everyone but me get to decide who deserves my faith?”

“Jin Ling, I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know if you’d believe me.”

“Well,” Jin Ling barked, choking off a sob, “I do. I believe you. I don’t have a choice but to believe you now. I have three pits full of fucking bodies telling me I have to believe you. Does that make you feel good?”

Wei Wuxian started to say something but Jin Ling cut him off.

“Thank you for telling me all this but where is Wen Ning? I want to talk to him after all.”

tbc? probably

also @kaialisonflame since you asked me to tag you! Thanks for enjoying!

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

They were so close to fixing this, so close to bringing him home safe and whole. They’d been hours away from having their family together once more and then only a few steps shy of having them safe. If Jin Zixun hadn’t gone — if Wei Wuxian had just restrained himself — if, if, if. A-niang would whip him with Zidian if she could hear him now. If it was anyone else, any other disciple — but Wei Wuxian isn’t any other disciple. He’s family, no matter his blood. They’ve grown together, fought together, bled for each other. Jiang Cheng gave up his core for him, his dreams and goals. Wei Wuxian gave up his chance to meet his grandmaster, his last fragile connection to his past. He could sooner cut out his own heart than abandon his brother. The night stretches long and sleepless before him. He goes to find Yanli. Though the surgery ended hours ago, Jin Zixuan still has not woken. A-jie sits beside his bed, face pale and drawn. Beside her, Wen Qing is a sallow shadow. She wears the same worn robes he last saw, ruddy colors of the earth so at odds with all the Jin gilt. Blood has stained the grey of her robe, the edge of her sleeves. She rises, still, and dips in a curtsy. “Jiang-zongzhu,” she greets.

Exhaustion is written into the line of her shoulders, the shadows under her dark eyes. He wants to reassure her, comfort her, but he can’t even think where to begin. They’re all captives here in one form or another, but she is the one with the least hope of escape. For so long the Jins have hungered for Wen blood; they won’t release her now that she’s caught in their golden snare.

“A-Cheng,” jie greets, reaching out her hand. He takes it in both of his, holds tight like he can help if only he doesn’t let go. Swallowing, he makes himself look at Jin Zixuan. He’s too pale, in that grey-tinged pallor of deep sickness, and he lies far too still. Only the faint rise and fall of the blankets over his chest give proof of life. “They say he’s in a healing sleep now. He should wake up within a week,” jie says. She pauses and twists to look over her shoulder at Wen Qing. “Is that right, Wen-guniang?” As if stirred from a trance, Wen Qing startles a little and swallows before giving a short nod. “Yes, Jin-xiao-furen,” she says. “The physical trauma was significant but has started healing with the aid of the infusions. The greater damage is to his golden core. If he wakes within the week, we will have a better idea of his prognosis.” Despite everything, she gives her report in a steady, even tone. They could be talking about a sprained wrist for how calmly she speaks. Somehow it settles the wild, terrified thing howling behind his ribs. Everything is wrong and he has no idea how to fix it but — but he has responsibilities, duties even now. He turns to face her without letting go of a-jie’s hand. “What happened?” he asks. He’s asked once before, but there’s a difference in what Nie Mingjue would be able to report and what Wen Qing might. He’s never received correspondence from her like he has from Wei Wuxian, but they’ve been working toward a shared goal regardless. She studies him a long moment, that unflinching evaluation that had unnerved him at first and then made something strange and bright shoot down his spine. Even now, he finds himself standing a little straighter under her consideration. “I didn’t see the attack,” she says, much like Nie Mingjue’s forewarning. “One of the Nie disciples flew to the edge of the wards and demanded I come help. I didn’t believe her at first but—” She pauses, shakes her head. “When I arrived, Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian were both unconscious. A— a-Ning had come back to himself,” she says, and there, for the first time, Jiang Cheng hears a faint tremor. “He knew better than to remove his hand and was trying to help, but he was — shaken. He said he remembered Jin Zixun surprising them, archers shooting at the both of them, but after that was dark.” Her hands are held tightly before her belly, like a lifeline or maybe a shield over her softer parts. “Once Jin Zixuan was stabilized, I made a-Ning take Wei Wuxian back,” she continues. “It seemed the best recourse, considering.” He’s grateful, briefly, for her clarity of mind in such a blood-soaked crisis. If Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian were brought here with Wei Wuxian incapacitated and Wen Ning still bloodied from killing Jin and Lan disciples— The thought alone makes cold horror creep frost-like up through his lungs. “And a-Xian?” a-jie asks. “Chifeng-zun said he collapsed.” Wen Qing hesitates a moment, expression tightening, before she gives a slow nod. “He overexerted himself,” she says. Her hand pinches tight around her fingers. “Between maintaining the wards from afar and then the summoning he did at the pass— His control has been slipping.” She stops abruptly, averting her eyes as her throat works. What does that mean? Jiang Cheng wants to demand, but the truth is that he already knows. He was given all the pieces to the answer months ago; he’s only been refusing to look at the way they align. “Is he—” jie starts but she stops short, as if she doesn’t want to ask for fear of the answer. Slow anger burns up where the frost-work horror traced. They’d been so close to fixing this. “The idiot,” he seethes. “He couldn’t just think for once? All he had to do was get here. All he had to do was not start a fight and then we could—” “A-Cheng.” A-jie looks at him with a horrible, heart-breaking softness. A bone-deep weariness seems to permeate her, sorrow already soaking into her soul. He bites down and swallows his words. It’s not fair, he knows. It wasn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault this time, really — except for the way it feels like they’ve been slipping down this road ever since Yiling, ever since Wei Wuxian promised he could fix Jiang Cheng’s core. Looking back now, he can see the path laid out so clearly it seems impossible he ever thought it could lead to any other end. “There is to be a pledge conference tomorrow night,” he says. His voice comes out strangely even, as if he is giving instructions to his disciples rather than speaking with his sister and his brother’s close friend. “All the sects have agreed to take the Burial Mounds by force and bring the Yiling laozu to justice.” A-jie’s hand tightens around his, hard enough it pinches the bones of his fingers. He swallows and holds steady. “Nie Mingjue has claimed custody over you,” he says, looking to Wen Qing. “Jin Guangshan has demanded Wen Ning as well.” There’s no need to say what sentence they’ve passed for Wei Wuxian. By technicality, he is Yunmeng Jiang’s disciple to punish, but he stands alone against the world now. Whoever kills him first will have the right. Wen Qing accepts the information without so much as a flinch. His chest tightens, clenches with frustration and anger at the way she seems so unbothered at being traded from hand to hand like chattel. It’s no surprise, nothing more than common practice. She is a prisoner, after all, even if she escaped. All of them are and as such, they have no right to ask for mercy or better treatment. After all, as much as Wei Wuxian had railed against the unjust treatment of the Wen prisoners in the camps, the argument the sects had used to actually relocate them had hinged more on the way dispersing them across the sects would reduce the likelihood of rebellion rather than concerns for the prisoners themselves. Watching her acceptance before him, though, feels deeply and innately wrong. Wen Qing has always held herself with pride, whether as a member of Wen Ruohan’s inner court or cast out by all the cultivation world. That she would resign herself to such a fate seems a perversion of her nature. “A-Cheng,” jie says, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Her eyes are beseeching. “Please, don’t let them hurt him. Bring him home, a-Cheng.” There are tears in her eyes, and her voice shakes as she pleads. That wild thing in his chest cracks, breaks like a fault-line through his ribs. His sister should never have to beg, his sister should not be sitting here with her husband dying and her little brother condemned. This is wrong, wrong in a way that cannot be mended no matter how tightly he holds on. “A-jie,” he says, voice breaking. How can she ask this of him? How can he refuse? How can he give her a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep? Tears sting his eyes, break burning on his lips. He cannot give her the answer she needs; he cannot give her a lie. His knees buckle underneath him and he slips down to kneel before her, supplicant, bowing. She folds over him as he presses his tears into her skirts. Her hand still holds his, her body shuddering with sobs. He clings to her and he weeps.

[wujipianover]

grief, the price of love

for jiang yanli’s birthday! happy birthday shijie! @mdzsnet

summary: She talks. It’s not entirely appropriate but it’s for Wei Ying so both don’t mind. She tells him about their childhood, stories of Wei Wuxian getting in trouble. She talks about when he first came to Lotus Pier, so tiny. How he ran away at night and she carried him on her back after he fell from a tree. Talked about how he used to lie on boats for hours at a stretch on the rivers of Yunmeng. How he was loved by every single vendor there. Lan Wangji takes in every detail hungrily. Her heart aches for him. There was always something between them that the world never understood, never bothered to understand. He can’t mourn openly. So she talks and hopes her memories would be able to fill the cracks.

(jiang yanli survives nightless city. she learns she isn't the only one left that cares for her wei ying)

grief is the price you pay for love

tags: jiang yanli lives, grief/mourning, cooking as therapy, jyl teaches lwj how to make soup

read on ao3 if you want!

When she wakes up, it’s to the sound of her little brother singing a lullaby that their mother used to sing, long long back ago with a sleeping A-Ling in his arms. She smiles, warmly. And then there is pain, unbearable pain all over her body and Jiang Cheng is getting up and fretting.

“A-jie! You’re up! Thank God!”

The relief that washes over him is palpable.

Then everything comes back to her. She was stabbed. Her hand ghosts over her abdomen that is covered with bandages. Dark, heavy grief settles over her. He’s gone. Otherwise he would be here, she knows him enough to know that.

“A-Ying?,” she trails off. A lone tear escapes unknowingly.

The Zidian around Jiang Cheng’s arm crackles menacingly. He’s grinding his teeth, a habit he’s had since he was 6. But now his eyes are dark and anger rolls off of him. He clutches A-Ling tighter.

“He’s dead. Had been dead to me long before.”

And that’s the end of the conversation.

Jiang Yanli’s heart shatters. She knew that. She knew everything that her Wei Ying had done. She looks over to her son and feels some of the weight lessen. But she still loves Wei Ying. Loved Wei Ying, something ugly reminds her.

She’s trying to not sob, all the heartache forming a lump in her throat when she falls asleep again.

*

She wakes up again to quiet. A moment later a nurse walks in and checks on her.

She wants to see her son again. She has to talk to A-Cheng again. Above all, she needs to see her Xianxian again. 

She wasn’t done mourning for her husband. His loss, she feels in her heart, something she carries everyday. Jin Zixuan was not always kind to her. But later, there was love, so much love. It had washed over her and cleansed her off everything bad they had to endure. Wei Wuxian’s absence at the wedding was felt by all. But she had smiled and that hadn’t felt like a lie. But she never blamed the loss on Wei Wuxian. She knows him. Knew him.

Jiang Cheng walks into the room a while later. The nurse had told her that she had been asleep for two days. Seeing A-Cheng’s face erupt into a smile settles some of the sorrow stirring in her. She has him.

He kneels beside her bed.

“A-jie, I am so glad you’re up! We will be travelling to Lanling tomorrow and I wish I could stay with you there. I could if Wei Wuxian had kept his promise,” he stops himself. Clenching his jaw he says, “Well then, none of this would have happened.” His voice is softer, melancholic.

 Her heart gives out. “You know none of this is his fault,” she tries gently.

“How can you still believe that?” He looks from where his face was buried in his hands. There are dark bruises under his eyes. He’s not been sleeping well. Too young, he’s too young and he has experienced more grief for a lifetime. He’s a sect leader now and the weight of responsibilities are visible in the tense line of his shoulders. “After all this?” HIs voice is choked.

Jian Cheng, she realizes needs reassurance because deep down, the parts covered by formalities and duties, he feels the same as him.

“Because you knew him”

“I don’t think I did.” There is finality in his words. He gets up suddenly and steels his expressions. The face of a sect leader.

“The Jiang sect has cut all ties with Wei Wuxian. His death will not change this fact.”

He salutes her. This is too formal. She wants to go back to a moment before.

“I will ask a nurse to bring A-Ling to you. Shijie needs to rest for her journey tomorrow.”

He turns on his heels and leaves before she can get a word out.

*

Life goes on. It takes a month to learn to walk again. A month more till she can hold her son again. It’s painful. There is an ugly scar on her belly but it acts as a reminder that someone, someone was there for Wei Wuxian. So it’s beautiful. 

She wrestles her way into sect leader business much to the dismay of Jin Guangshan. Too long, she had gone on living in the shadows. There’s not a lot she can do, what with not being able to travel to other sects. But she attends meetings at Lanling and no one has dared to question her presence. She survived a knife to her belly. She has seen too much loss. She is strong and capable.

Jiang Cheng refuses to acknowledge Wei Wuxian. Rumours fly around that he gave the final blow that killed him. Her Xianxian ceases to exist, replaced by stories and myths of the Yiling Patriarch. It’s as if he was never a person before. As if he was never a boy. Just a boy.

So she flings herself into complaints from the villagers in Lanling. They are young, honest, ordinary people. They have problems that don’t take cultivation to solve. So she devotes herself to their needs, and then to the needs of the people who come to her from far away. Wei Wuxian did the same thing with the Wens. He was right. She wishes she had told him that, or tried to convince others of that.

She nurses his memory too, he will be alive in them. She remembers him smiling. He was born with a smile that could compete with the sun. It’s lonely though, being the only one alive who cares about him.

And then she gets a letter. And is reminded that she is not alone in loving Wei Ying.

Respected Young Lady Jiang,

I hope this Second Young Master Lan doesn’t offend Young Lady Jiang by sending this. Sect Leader Jiang informed me of your recovery. It comes as good news.

I am not aware of how much Lady Jiang has been informed on the matters of Wei Ying. This young master feels the need to inform that they still haven’t found a body. I continue to play Inquiry every night in hopes to find Wei Ying’s spirit. If there are any developments, Young Lady Jiang would be the first one to know.

This humble brother apologizes for any breach of privacy.

Wei Ying’s Lan Zhan.

She reads the letter again. How foolish for her to think that she was all alone in thinking about Wei Wuxian as he was. For the first time in a long time, his memory brings a smile to her face.

*

It gets easier. Time heals. A-Ling is a joy, raising him is second nature. The cultivation world becomes messy and she draws away from it. They have fallen into dramas that are not worthy for sect leaders to get into.

She spends her time talking to the common man and making sure Wei Ying’s Jin Rulan is worthy of his name.

She doesn’t hear from Hanguan-jun. There are whispers, nasty talk of discipline whips and seclusion and a young child. She doesn’t pay heed to any of it. A part of her wishes for another letter. She desperately wants to talk about him. Seems like that’s the only way to keep him alive now.

It’s almost noon and she is in her room going over written grievances to her when there is a knock at the door. It’s Hanguang-jun at the door looking pained and awkward.

They salute each other. “Young master Lan hopes that he doesn’t intrude the privacy of Young Lady Jiang.”

She beckons him to enter in response. He walks inside slowly, regal and elegant but stiff.

“Not at all Hanguang-jun, The letter was appreciated.”

Lan Wangji relaxes at that.

There is a pause, Jiang Yanli guesses he’s wondering what to say.

“Lan Wangji was in seclusion and therefore was not able to play Inquiry all this time. He apologizes”

It confirms what she knew all along, there was no answer.

“It was very kind for Hanguang-jun to try.”

“I wanted to.” It comes out so earnest, Jiang Yanli melts. Lan Wangji’s ears are pinker.

“Will Hanguang-jun want to learn to make A-Ying’s favourite food?”

It’s an indulgence, Lan Wangji would not want to waste his time on such frivolity. She remembers the food of CLoud Recesses and how plain it was. A-Ying’s favourite would not suit Lan Wangji’s palate. It’s more for her sake, making this for his brother’s Lan Zhan would mean more. She goes to apologize when Lan Wangji says softly, “I would like that very much.”

And so they make their way to the kitchen. She makes everyone leave, their mouth agape.

Lan Wanji is silent beside her as she talks him through the recipe. It’s simple soup with lotus and meat. Hanguang-jun is a fast learner and he listens to her attentively, humming his assent occasionally. 

The process is therapeutic. Chopping and stirring and tasting. She can do this in her sleep. The rhythmic movements ease her. The fact that Hanguang-jun’s brows wrinkle like he is trying to memorize every flick of Jiang Yanli’s wrist.

She talks. It’s not entirely appropriate but it’s for Wei Ying so both don’t mind. She tells him about their childhood, stories of Wei Wuxian getting in trouble. She talks about when he first came to Lotus Pier, so tiny. How he ran away at night and she carried him on her back after he fell from a tree. Talked about how he used to lie on boats for hours at a stretch on the rivers of Yunmeng. How he was loved by every single vendor there. Lan Wangji takes in every detail hungrily. Her heart aches for him. There was always something between them that the world never understood, never bothered to understand. He can’t mourn openly. So she talks and hopes her memories would be able to fill the cracks.

“He was born with a smiling face, you know.”

“I know,” he gives the smallest smile.

The soup is ready and she pours them in two bowls. They sit and eat in silence. Lan Wangji’s eyes water and she doesn’t know if it’s from the spice alone.

He leaves without a word after the meal. Jiang Yanli has never felt this content in three years.

*

Sixteen years later a message talisman stirs her from her sleep.

He’s back.

Wei Ying’s Lan Zhan

She comes alive again.

[askbohemiancompany]

A Profile On Beck Bejmajick

Niquix Art Trade Interview With the Curator

“Thank you so much for sitting down with me Ms. Bejme...Bej-”

“It’s Bejmajick. Bej-ma-jick.”

“Thank you for clarifying.”

This was not a normal day for museum curator and explorer Rebecca Bejmajick. She was giving an interview for the Unovan-Sol, a publication that focused on up and coming Pokemon entrepreneurs that were making an impact on society for pokemon living in human dominated cities.

Sitting in a cozy chair eye to eye with her was Yeroc Bleumire. Despite being a wigglytuff, he had a reputation as a stern journalist who was good at getting people to open up, including in ways that would get them to admit some truths they would not admit otherwise. The fairy type barely flinched at how massive his subject was in front of him. His one regret was not getting the pronunciation of her last name right.

If hybrid had to be honest to this pink rabbit talking across from her, she would tell him that she was busy and he could take his questions elsewhere. Except Beck could not do that. The publisher paid her a lot of money in order to do this interview. Not to mention she had sources there that could let her know of any potential treasures to add to her ‘collection’. The PR it would give also helps gain more attention for her.

“Before we begin I want to thank you for sitting with me today to do this interview.” Yeroc said adjusting his glasses before pulling out a pen and paper.

“I figured I would make it worth your wild. Let’s get this over with. I have work to do.” Beck rested her head on her left arm and gave him a neutral look.

“Fair enough.” Flipping to the first page, Yeroc prepared his pen to write his first question. “I’ll start with an easy one. What got you into artifact hunting and curation?”

That was surprising. Usually the first question was about her background, her family life, all of the softball level questions. What version of the story should she give this guy?

“Well that actually stemmed from my background with my parents.” She straightened herself from her slouched position and positioned her arms as if to display herself. “As you can see, I’m a hybrid of a gardevoir and gengar. Both species with connections to the supernatural. So I grew up around magic.” The gardevoir sighed as she had to come up with a convincing lie about her parents on the spot. “They were eccentric and honestly a bit embarrassing in hindsight, but I still give them all the credit in the world for leading me down the path I have.”

Writing as swift as the wind, Yeroc jotted down what was relayed to him before moving on. “Did they come from a position of wealth or were they wild mons?”

Implying that she came from money was offensive to Beck. “If you are to imply that I got some sort of payout from my parents you are wrong. All of the wealth I have amassed was through the hard work with my team.”

“That was not the nature of the question. I only ask that because readers typically like to know if it is a case of a mon coming from outside the major cities into pokemon civilizations.” The wigglytuff did not sound apologetic, but he did not convey any hostility. 

“Oh.” Beck felt slightly at fault, but his neutral tone did not help his case. “Well to answer your question it was more in the middle of those two extremes. We grew up outside any of the human cities when I was younger, but we eventually moved to the inner city. My family only had access to what I would call human scraps. Basically any junk they tossed out or anything we found before anyone else tried to claim it.”

Quick as the wind, the rabbit was writing down everything that was being relayed. “Kind of going back to a point you brought up earlier, you said you have a team. Can you elaborate on that?”

“Yes my team is composed of my secretary and assistant Mariposa, who you spoke with to set up this interview. Also one of my best friends Asa who lives out in Victory Road with her family and clan, including the alpha-scrafty of the mountain.”

“I see. Just curious by why does this Asa not stay with you here in the city? Have you offered her a chance to move her here?”

“Trust me I have tried. She doesn't like being out in the city too much. Iit has caused me more problems than I can count.” Asa sighed thinking of how often that lizard has made her late for important meetings. Yet. “She does care for me and her family though so I respect her wishes...but I also wish she could be more punctual.”

Both mons chuckled at that joke. “Well then. One thing I need to address is the wailord in the room.” The fairy type turned a page. “Some have criticized how you have obtained particular artifacts-”

“Which ones?” Beck cut him off before he could even finish it. “Name me one artifact that they think I have obtained improperly.” She was not in the mood for this type of crap. The accusations of ill-gain of her artifacts were always abound but she got accused of stealing the most out of all the curators in her perspective. As reliable as that was to anyone not her.

“I can name two that caused the most controversy recently. The Gaian Manuscript and the Weave of Tapulele statue.” Flipping to another page in his notebook, Yeroc returned his gaze to her. “According to some members of the Gaian Order you are holding an item of religious import and that the original manuscript should go to their head priests.”

“Which one? There are multiple sects of the Gaian Order.”

“That’s not my position to decide. Back to my question regarding that criticism; what would you say to those of the Gaian faith?”

This was agitating to Beck, who at this point was leaning back in her chair. “I’d say if they really wanted it then they can pay me to give it to them.”

Yeroc wrote that down. “Regarding the statue of Tapulele, that was an idol that was used in an active shrine that was lost due to the UB incident. Is that considered fair game?”

Beck rolled her eyes. “If that was the case they should have made it known to the public and put out a search for it.”

“They did.”

“Well I will be sure to address those community leaders.” The giantess lowered her glasses to give the rabbit mon a stare. “You’ve got one more question. Make it count.” She was making her contempt known as she continued giving an intimidated glare at her interviewer.

The fairy type saw this glare and flipped to the next page. “Sorry if I agitated you. But very well I can move onto the final question. There are rival museums, more specifically the Hoenn Oceanic Museum. They claimed you have stolen documents regarding fossil locations, and potential buried treasure. What do you say about those accusations?”

“Now this is something I have no problem answering.” The gardevoir leaned forward. “I know the Stone family has obtained multitudes of artifacts and beyond through some questionable means. Lest we forget what happened with Deoxy’s Meteor. So for them to accuse me of that is massively hypocritical and they can kiss it.”

Beck raised from her chair, casting a large shadow over the smaller fairy type. “That should be enough for your story. My secretary will see you out.” A slow pink miasma appeared around the hybrid as her eyes glowed bright red before disappearing into the miasma, leaving the fairy type alone in the room.

(This was my end of an art trade for @niquixarts relating to her blog @ask-nacrenetreasurehunters. This was a fun piece to do.)

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4149 Chapter: 15/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 15

Madara had never been all that fond of irony. There had always seemed to be an element of self-deprecation to it that he did not appreciate and usually he did his best not to connect his past actions with current results unless they reflected favorably upon him. It was a little hard to ignore the irony now, however, as he wandered from room to room in the quiet of his home and thought to himself that he was finally alone, finally he had a guarantee that Tobirama would not be returning for several days, and now that he had what he had wished for so many times he felt only loneliness. Even the weeks when Tobirama had done all he could to avoid the house until Madara went to sleep hadn’t felt this lonely.

Wandering in to the office, he immediately turned and restlessly wandered back out, unable to conceive of sitting down to get anything done even if Tobirama had made it clear that he didn’t mind Madara using the desk space he had set up in there. He made several turns around the living room and stopped by the kitchen to peek his head in the fridge a handful of times despite not even being hungry. Loneliness was not something he’d ever had to deal with before; he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

It probably wouldn’t have been so difficult to deal with if he understood why he was feeling this way. This was hardly the first time he’d been alone in a house before. Growing up in a clan of shinobi meant that he had survived plenty of long stretches when all of his precious people were away for days or weeks or even months at a time on important assignments. Before he’d always seen it as a boon, a fun sort of vacation when he had all the space he wanted and he could do anything without worrying about bothering others or getting in trouble for acting obnoxiously in shared spaces. He wasn’t sure why it was so different now when the only person he lived with was Tobirama.

Muted knocking on the front door snapped him out of his daze and Madara perked up, more than ready for a little company. Hopefully it was Hashirama come to invite him for dinner. Hell, at this point he would even look forward to his father showing up to yell at him for something. At least that would break up the monotony and give him something to focus his aimless energy on.

Upon opening the door, however, he wasn’t at all prepared to look down and find a pair of wide, earnest eyes staring back up at him with ignorant happiness.

“Hi Madara-sama! Is sensei home? It’s time for lessons and he’s late! Sensei is never late! Should I be worried? I wouldn’t like it if anything bad happened to him again, he promised it wasn’t that bad before when he got blown up but I know that grownups always lie to kids so that we won’t be extra worried-”

“Breathe Kagami,” he inserted himself between one word and the next, a little overwhelmed by the flood.

“Sorry! Sensei says it’s okay if I talk a lot as long as I do my lessons at the same time.”

“Ah. Tobirama is not home, Kagami.” Madara frowned. “I’m not surprised he forgot to send word to you since he left in such a hurry. He got called away on a mission.”

Immediately the boy’s expression drooped with exaggerated sadness. “Oh. So…no training?”

“Not this week.”

“Aww.”

Tiny shoulders folding inward, one foot lifting to kick at a piece of dust on the porch, Kagami looked like so dejected that Madara felt his heart almost melting in his chest. Almost. Not really, of course. He was much too adult to be swayed by one puppy face from a disappointed little boy.

“Would you like to come in?” The offer slipped out without thought and he nearly kicked himself. What did he have in his house to entertain a child with? But it was already out there and Kagami had already gone bouncy with joy.

“Really!? Cool!” He was scrambling around Madara's legs in an instant, leaving him standing in the open doorway staring down the street.

“Of course, please show yourself around,” he mumbled under his breath as he closed the door.

Tiny sandals left in a messy heap almost tripped him up when he turned around. Kagami always had moved quickly when he was excited. Madara found him standing in the middle of the living room almost vibrating with energy as he tried to take everything in at once.

“Is that your couch? That looks like a pretty comfy couch. Sensei says that sometimes he sleeps on the couch so that he won’t disturb you and I think that’s really nice of him, don’t you? Do you have a lot of trouble sleeping, Madara-sama? Mama says that if you close your eyes and count shuriken then you’ll fall asleep faster and that works for me! Maybe it would work for you too!” His smile was bright and beaming, so full of innocence, entirely unaware of what Tobirama had probably meant when he admitted to sleeping away from their marriage bed.

“How long ago did he tell you that?” Madara asked carefully.

“Um…I dunno. It was a while ago. I think it was when the dog next door had her puppies and they’re really big now!”

That made him breathe easier. He knew very few families in their clan who owned dogs and only one of them had whelped that he knew of but that had been sometime a few months back, just around the period when he and his husband had first began making their efforts to get along better. It was still a revelation that Tobirama had chosen to sleep on the couch sometimes rather than come up to the bed but he supposed it wasn’t much of a surprise when he gave it a bit more thought.

“And how is your training going?” Before the boy could answer Madara interrupted himself to add, “Would you like a snack or something?”

“Yes please! Sensei says it’s important to practice my manners.”

“Learning how to be polite?”

“He says it’s important to know how to please the people you should. And that if you’re going to offend someone you should learn how to do that right too.”

Madara blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing. From what he knew of Tobirama that did indeed sound like something he would say. The man had never been overly concerned with whether or not he hurt someone’s feelings with his words but he did understand when it was necessary to curb his tongue to avoid trouble with one of their fathers or the village High Council.

Once he’d caught his breath back Madara set out for the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder, “And how are you enjoying your lessons? From what I understand things are going quite well.”

Kagami followed him in to the kitchen and bounced in a small circle around the table as he chattered.

“They’re awesome! Sensei knows so much! He’s so cool!”

“A fair teacher, then?”

“Uh-huh! He’s nice when I get things right and he’s not mean when I get things wrong and if I ask questions he always answers them and doesn’t just roll his eyes at me like other grownups do. Why don’t grownups like it when I ask them questions?”

Madara tried not to bite his tongue but it was hard to keep the smile off his face otherwise.

“I think many adults lose their patience for questions when they grow older,” he said. Kagami snorted with all the indelicacy of a child.

“That’s stupid. Sensei says that patience is important for all shinobi to learn. He says that being impatient can lead to people getting hurt or failing a mission. Or hurting myself; sometimes he says that I hurt my muscles because I’m trying to go too fast.” Wrinkling his nose, Kagami rubbed at one arm with the opposite hand as though remember phantom pains.

Setting out the bowl of amanattō he had poured for his guest, Madara hummed. “It seems like you take a lot of his lessons to heart.”

He didn’t expect Kagami to sit bolt upright with a worried look.

“Do you think I should die-se-sect more of what he says?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“You mean dissect?”

“That! Yeah!”

“Why would you need to pick apart what Tobirama says to you?” Madara picked out a sweet and popped it in his mouth. “Did he even tell you what that means?”

Kagami finally appeared to notice the bowl but he seemed to think it was imperative that he explain his lesson before diving in. He did keep one eye on the sweets as he spoke though. “Sensei says that it’s important to always think carefully about what people say because they won’t always tell the truth or sometimes what they say will be their truth but it won’t be the whole truth so I should always die-se-sect things so I won’t get fooled!”

“We wouldn’t want you to be fooled by anyone,” Madara agreed in a grave tone.

“Right!” His piece spoken, Kagami practically sprang out of his chair and dug his hand in to the snack bowl.

They both gorged themselves shamelessly on sweets as they whiled away the noon hours talking about unimportant things. Kagami’s favorite subject was recounting endless tales of the taijutsu he was learning or the small life lessons Tobirama imparted as they went through kata together and, while he wouldn’t be caught admitting it out loud, Madara was more than happy to hear every word. It was always fascinating to hear what Tobirama was like around other people and learn new sides of his apparently multi-faceted husband.

Wasting time like this was actually fairly nice. It wasn’t like he’d been doing anything important or productive before Kagami arrived and a bit of conversation that didn’t focus on anything work related was quite nice. His brain felt delightfully emptied out by the time their bowl of sweets ran empty and they were interrupted by another knock on the front door.

Kagami shrugged when Madara assumed a questioning expression.

“It’s not me!” he insisted. “I’m already here!”

“Brat. I know it isn’t you.”

Madara stood from his chair with a roll of his eyes and tottered on down the hallway. Some god had apparently been listening closely when he prayed for company earlier.

His shock must have been stamped plainly across his face when he opened the door because Susumu-sensei took one look at him and began to snicker openly, almost dropping the sizable box clutched between both hands. On reflex he reached out to steady the box and take it from her.

“Put that in the fridge until you eat in,” she commanded.

“Okay…”

“And move! I can’t come in if you’re standing in my way!” Susumu-sensei fluttered her hands at him until he stepped back to give her enough room to shimmy around him in to the genkan.

For the second time that day Madara found himself staring out at his empty porch, talking to nothing but air. “Come in? It’s good to see you?”

“Don’t be catty!” she called back to him as she took off down the hall.

He could hear her and Kagami greeting each other in surprise and immediately chattering away like two old biddies as he closed the door. A quick heft told him that whatever was inside the box he had taken was fairly substantial, probably one of her famous pies. Or perhaps a batch of melon pan since she knew he had an odd preference for eating it chilled.

The moment he walked back in to the kitchen Madara felt something odd and unexpected release in his chest, a pressure he hadn’t acknowledged was even there until finally it was gone. Loneliness seeped away to leave him content and happy as he took in the sight of his ragtag little family members bickering over the empty bowl. Susumu-sensei had always been like a second mother to him in her strange sort of way and it was quite obvious how attached Kagami had grown to his own sensei. Madara supposed it wouldn’t be so bad for the little tyke to worm his way in to their household on occasion, unofficially half adopted as happened so often in their clan.

Luckily he was saved from allowing his thoughts to get too mushy by having them interrupted when Kagami climbed up on to his chair and began crowing that he was bigger now so that made him the adult over her. Madara snorted so hard he hurt his nose. He could remember doing something similar when he was young and it only ever ended the same way as it did now, with an offended squawk from his sensei, wooden spoon appearing in her hand as if summoned there by some kind of jutsu.

“No blood,” he called to them dryly. “If there’s blood I will make you both clean it up yourselves.”

“This brat thinks he can stand taller and be bigger than me just like that!” Heedless of his warnings, Susumu was already wielding her spoon as one would a blunt club.

“That is how size works,” Madara pointed out.

She called him a traitor.

“Why are you here?” he asked when she was done waging war for such egregious insults.

“I heard that husband of yours absconded with your brother and I thought someone should come make sure you haven’t put your pants on backwards or something since you’ve been unsupervised for several days now.” Susumu-sensei grinned. “I was looking forward to finding you in a disaster state.”

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“Your sweet words just fill me with joy, little one.”

Although his kitchen was far from small, with two people here with him it felt much more full, conversation and laughter filling all the empty spaces that had felt so prominent without Tobirama here to fill them. He made a show of his usual irascibility and loudly declared at every opportunity that he hadn’t asked for any house guests but it was obvious that even young Kagami wasn’t fooled. Probably dissecting his every word.

The box he placed in the fridge turned out to be melon pan as he’d guessed, a large enough batch to make bentos for a week and still snack at home, but he got his hand slapped with that infernal wooden spoon for trying to eat a piece. Susumu-sensei chittered at him for ruining his appetite with the amanattō and declared the kitchen her own for the evening, poking her head in to every nook and cranny until she had an idea of what to cook with the things that were available. Madara put up a token resistance but the prospect of indulging in one of her expertly prepared meals was too good to pass up. It had be too long.

With the house so lively with people the afternoon passed him by almost without notice and evening set in far quicker than he expected. Almost before he realized what had happened Madara was lounging on the engawa with his old sensei at his side while they watched Kagami flutter from one side of the backyard to the other catching crickets.

“You really didn’t have to come check up on me you know,” he mumbled over the rim of his tea cup. Susumu huffed and fiddled with the pot still steaming between them.

“Had to come make sure my sweet little muffin was still alive, didn’t I?”

“I’ve survived longer than this on my own before,” he pointed out.

She gave him a flat look. “Just let me care about you, alright? Quite pretending it’s the end of the world every time someone hints they feel some kind of affection for you. Just let your husband kiss you goodnight, let that friend of yours hug you without screaming once in a while, and quit scowling so often. You’ll wrinkle like me.”

“Aw, sensei, is someone self-conscious of their ugly old face?” Madara grinned and had to duck the swipe of her hand, grateful she didn’t throw her tea in his face.

“Excuse you I am a beautiful and delicate flower!”

A doubtful hum rumbled up his throat. “You’re…something.” He dodged another swat and then determinedly set his gaze on watching Kagami play as he asked, “What makes you think Tobirama ever tries to kiss me?”

“Doesn’t he?” she asked incredulously. Madara shifted and fiddled with his cup.

“No. We kissed during the wedding ceremony and he, er, tried to move things in that direction later that night. You know the story. But no, we’ve never…nothing since.” A mouthful of tea seemed like a good excuse to stop the flow of words before he embarrassed himself any further so he took a big gulp, almost choking when it burned his tongue.

“Huh. Do you want him to?”

Madara blinked down at his tea, unsure of how to answer, a little uncomfortable in his lack of surety.

“I don’t know,” he murmured eventually.

“How can you not know?”

“Well I just don’t! I don’t think about that stuff! Or I…try not to? I don’t know, sensei. Ever since we finally worked things out it’s been…pretty great…and I guess maybe I just don’t want to rock the boat. What if things change and it’s weird between us?”

Kagami’s squeal of triumph made them both look over to see him holding up both hands above his head. “I caught one!” he shouted.

“Good, now catch another,” Susumu called. They waited until the boy scampered off to do so and then she turned back to Madara with a careful expression. “You can’t live your life afraid of rocking boats. I know you know that already and I have to admit, I’m surprised. That’s not like you to worry about change. Are you still so hung up on this being an arranged marriage that you can’t even explore that stuff? Not even one little kiss?”

“But it’s not just a kiss! I want–”

“To fall in love, yes, I know. So kiss your husband you idiot. How else do you know if you’re compatible? You think no Uchiha ever ended a first date with a kiss?” She scoffed and Madara suddenly felt very stupid.

She had always had a way of presenting her arguments that just sounded so logical. It drove him up the wall every time that she saw so easily what he had worried himself over for days or weeks – or in this case months.

In his head he had built up the issue as though to fall in love with Tobirama would be an immediate thing. The Senju idea that one should work to fall in love had somehow translated in his mind to the expectation that he would one day simply decide to do so, which was something he just could not conceive of.

But he couldn’t deny that he did find Tobirama interesting and, more importantly, that he found himself interested lately. Until Susumu-sensei had said something he hadn’t considered the idea that their relationship would build just the same as any other relationship he might have chosen for himself. They found each other attractive. If they wanted to they could go on dates and continue to learn more about each other and build the bond between them stronger with every day. The only difference was that they had gotten married before all that instead of after.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try,” he mumbled, twin pools of heat rising in his face. Picturing what it might be like to kiss Tobirama made something in his belly twist and flip.

“Look”-Susumu-sensei gave vent to a reluctant sigh and checked to make sure Kagami still wasn’t listening to them-“I know that you’ve always believed in our traditions, that you grew up equating sex with love. And I’m not saying you need to throw all that out the window but you’re old enough that I expect you to know that they’re really not the same thing. Sex can happen with no feelings. And love can flourish without sex. I never married myself; do you think I’ve never rolled around with anyone before?”

“I had hoped to never picture it.” Madara shuddered with disgust while she laughed at him callously.

“Oh grow up you prude.”

Rolling his eyes, he finished off the last of his tea and began to fiddle with the empty mug once more. “Are we done with all the deep shit now? Can I go back to pretending you and sex can never exist in the same sentence again?”

“If you keep that up the next time I bake you cookies they’ll have extra lemon in them.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Susumu grinned but it wasn’t the mad cackle he was expecting. It was there and gone, a brief moment of levity that he realized she had allowed only to make him more comfortable. “Little one, I’m sorry that things are so difficult for you.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. “We all carry on.”

“When it comes to you I have always hoped for more than just carrying on. You gave him a chance and things have been going well. It seems to me that Tobirama might be good for you in some ways.” She paused when Madara cut her off with a snort.

“That’s not what Izuna thinks.”

His teacher rolled her eyes. “That brother of yours has always been quick to judge and once he makes an opinion he never shakes it. You’re allowed to have different opinions than him. Do you like spending time with your husband?”

“Yes.” The response was so natural he gave it no thought.

“And do you like the idea of spending more time together? Maybe a few dates, a little intimate conversation?”

“I…it sounds nice, yeah.”

“Then get your head out of your ass and stop looking at this like it’s a problem you can solve by yourself. If you want to find out whether the two of you might be able to build something more then spend some time with him and find out. For once in your life you can have it both ways.” She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky with amusement twinkling in her eyes. “His traditions say that now you two are married he should be doing everything he can to build a relationship in good faith. Sounds a lot like what the rest of the world calls dating. Wouldn’t you say that aligns rather neatly with what you want out of this too?”

Before Madara could say anything Kagami came stumbling over with two more crickets between his hands to proudly show off his success. Desperate for anything to help him escape the current conversation, not ready to answer such a pointed question, he praised the boy perhaps a little too enthusiastically for it to be believable. For his efforts he got compared to Tobirama and his husband’s reserved style of praise. He was found lacking.

As repayment Kagami demanded that Madara help him practice katas since he never did get a chance to train that day. Susumu stayed behind on the porch while the two of them made the most of the space in his rather sizable backyard. While he and his temporary student flowed from one stance to the next Madara realized he could probably exercise at home like this more often and if he invited Tobirama to join him this could be something nice for them to do together. After all, what better activity for two shinobi to bond over?

The sky darkened overhead as they went through their forms and, although he was much too busy for it to occur to him right then, Madara's day was ending with a much happier atmosphere than it had begun. Annoying conversation and all. Later he would lie awake in bed and think hard about the empty space on the other side of the mattress, about what it meant for him to miss the man so much after only a few days apart.

But for now he was content to laugh when Kagami missed a step and went tumbling down on to his ass, happy to have some of his loved ones there with him to keep him occupied. Tomorrow perhaps he would call on Hashirama and weasel his way in to a free dinner. It was nice having so many people to call his own. Nice enough that he thought it wouldn’t be too bad to have just one more.

[boat-full-of-lotus-pods]

MDZS Chapter 105. “A Hatred for Life” Part 8

Dignity of a villain

Lan XiChen asked, “Sect Leader Jin…… Can you explain the whole incident from start to finish?”

Jin GuangYao remained speechless. The knuckles of his hands were clenched white.

Wei WuXian commented, “Looks like Sect Leader Jin doesn’t want to talk about it.”

With a wave of his hand, a naked female corpse instantly appeared beneath his palm. Placing his palm on top of her jet-black head, he said, “But do you really think that I have no way of finding out by myself?”

The moment the Empathy commenced, before Wei WuXian even opened his eyes, he was consumed by the strong smell of perfume fragrance in the air. A coy, coquettish voice came out of his mouth. “Her? Of course she wants to get married. When she first met that man, she was already twenty-something, not longer in her primes. It’ll only take a few years before her fame declines, so despite all the scolding, she wanted to bear him a son no matter what. Really, she was just looking for a way out. But still, it’d only work if the guy wants it too.”

As he opened his eyes, what greeted him was a hall that could be considered glamorous. Large and spacious, within the hall were a dozen or so big round tables, with at least a handful of customers seated at each. Amongst them were a few very beautiful women, some had their shoulders exposed, others had their hair down; some were sitting in the laps of the wine-sipping customers, others were feeding wine down customers’ throats; every one of them bore dreamy, saccharine bedroom eyes.

It was quite easy to tell what kind of place this was.

Wei WuXian thought to himself, ‘The woman who died in the fire here was actually from a pleasure house. No wonder these evil spirits are all naked. They were probably all brothel girls and customers.’

The customer beside him smiled and said, “It’s his own son after all. How could he not want it?”

The woman continued, “She said that the man was some big name from a major cultivation sect. If that’s true, then he must have lots of sons already. Everything stops being rare when there’s plenty of it around, so why would he care more about the one from outside the family than the rest of them? After waiting and waiting without a sign of him, of course she’d have no choice but to raise the boy herself. And it’s been fourteen years since.”

A few other customers chimed in. “Some big name? For real?”

The woman replied, “Aiyah, why would I ever lie about something like this? Her son’s actually here doing odd chores for us right now. Look, that one,” she twisted around to wave at a boy holding a platter, “Xiao-Meng[1]! Come over!”

The boy actually came over and said, “AnXin-jie[2], what is it?”

In that moment, Wei WuXian understood everything.

The group of customers gave Meng Yao once-overs with scrutinizing eyes. Meng Yao asked again, “Did you want something?”

AnXin smiled and said, “Xiao-Meng, have you been studying those things again on your own recently?”

Startled, Meng Yao asked, “What things?”

AnXin replied, “Those things that your mother asks you to study, painting and calligraphy, customs and etiquettes, the art of the sword and the spirit…… How goes your studies?”

Before she even finished, the group of customers around her started laughing, seemingly finding the matter quite ridiculous. AnXin turned back to them and said, “Don’t laugh. I’m speaking the truth. His mother really does raise him like he’s some high-born young master and teaches him to read and write. She’s bought him so many books on the secret artforms of swordplay. She even wants to send him to school.”

A customer said in an astonished voice, “Send him to school? I didn’t hear that incorrectly, did I?”

AnXin replied, “No! Xiao-Meng, tell these young masters here, haven’t you been to the classroom before?”

A customer asked, “He’s still going there?”

AnXin replied, “No, not anymore. He came back after just a few days, saying that he never wants to go back again. Xiao-Meng, is it that you don’t like to study, or is it that you don’t like that place?”

Meng Yao remained silent. Smiling, AnXin poked at his forehead with a polished forefinger painted in bright red. “Little one, are you upset?”

She’d poked him quite hard. It left a light, red mark between Meng Yao’s brows, almost like a shadow of the Vermilion Mark. Caressing his forehead, he said, “No……”

AnXin clapped her hands and said, “Alright alright, I’m done, you can go now.” As Meng Yao turned to leave, she picked up something from the table and said to him, “Here, I got a fruit for you.”

Turning back, the fresh, succulent fruit struck him right in the chest before falling to the ground and rolling away. AnXin scolded, “How are you so dull? Can’t even catch a fruit? Hurry up and pick it up, don’t waste it.”

The corners of Meng Yao’s mouth lifted. He should be around fourteen years of age, but, perhaps due to his unusually thin body, looked only about twelve or thirteen. It was an uncomfortable sight, seeing this kind of smile on a face like his.

Bending down slowly, he went and picked up the fallen fruit. Wiping it on his clothes, his smile deepened, “Thank you, AnXin-jiejie.”

AnXin said, “You’re welcome. Now go back to work.”

Meng Yao said, “Call me again if you need something.”

After he left, a customer said, “If my son was in a place like this, I’d do anything to get him out of here.”

Another said, “Is his father really a big name from a prominent cultivation sect? Shouldn’t it be very easy for him to buy her out and give her a lump sum of money to raise the son? It’d be a piece of cake.”

AnXin said, “How can we really believe in every word she says? More than half of them were probably lies. The way I see it, he’s probably just a merchant with a bit of money, and she blew it out of proportion…….”

Suddenly, there was a sharp scream. The sound of cups and plates smashing could be heard coming from the upper floor. A yaoqin[3] flew out, tumbling, and landed right in the middle of the large hall, splitting into pieces instantly with a thundering crash. Many customers from the surrounding tables were startled and frightened, cursing loudly. AnXin almost fell down as well, screaming, “What’s going on?!”

Meng Yao shouted, “Mom!”

AnXin looked up. Upstairs, a large, brawny man was clutching a woman by her hair and dragging her out of a room. Pulling at the customer besides her, AnXin spoke with a tone that could have been either excitement or nervousness, “It’s her again!”

Meng Yao rushed upstairs at once. The woman was desperately trying drag her robes back over her shoulders while holding a hand over her own scalp. Seeing Meng Yao, she hurriedly shouted, “I told you to never come upstairs! Leave! Leave now!”

Meng Yao tried to pry the customer’s hand away, but got kicked in the stomach instead and rolled down the stairs, arousing a wave of startled gasps.

This was the third time that Wei WuXian had seen him being kicked down the stairs, rolling all the way to the bottom.

The woman gave a loud, startled shout, but was immediately dragged forward by the customer again, all the way down to the ground floor. Stripping her naked, he threw her out onto the streets. Spatting onto her naked body, he cursed loudly, “The ugly ones are all crazy. This old whore still thinks herself as fresh meat!”

Alarmed and frightened, the woman crouched in the middle of the street and didn’t dare to get up. If she even moved just a little, she would be fully exposed for the world to see. People on the streets were both shocked and excited, reluctant to linger yet refusing to move on. Fingers pointing, they whispered among themselves with gleaming eyes. The brothel’s front door was crowded with people as well. All the women from within were giggling quietly. Like AnXin, they gleefully gossiped with the customers besides them, telling them stories of the old, pitiful woman crouching in the middle of the street. Only one of the women stepped out. Disrobing the outer, silky layer from her already scantily-clad body, the top half of a pair of ample, snow-white bosoms became visible over a slender waist, the other half hidden behind the small, scarlet-red undergarment containing them. Attracting much attention, her figure drew all the wandering eyes to herself. Yet she spat on the street and cursed at them. “Wanna look? Wanna look? Want another fucking look? Who the fuck do you think I am that you can just look for free? I’m charging by the glance, every glance counts. Pay up! Now pay up!”

As she cursed and swore, she actually stuck a hand out and started walking around, asking for money from all the people gathered. As the crowd dispersed a little, she threw the silky robe she’d taken off herself onto the woman in the middle of the street, and, with an arm wrapped around her, dragged her back stumbling into the brothel’s hall, scolding, “I’ve told you to change your ways long ago. Who are you pretending to be all proud and mighty for? See, now you’re suffering. You better remember it this time!”

Wei WuXian thought to himself, ‘This woman here looks oddly familiar. Where have I seen her before?’

The woman called in a small voice, “A-Yao, A-Yao……”

The kick had taken a toll on Meng Yao, who was still laying on the floor, trying and failing to bring himself to his feet. The woman dragged him up, holding the son in one hand and the mother in another as she continued on her way, bringing them with her. A customer beside AnXin asked, “Who’s that beauty over there?”

Spitting out the shells of two sunflower seeds, AnXin replied, “An infamous vicious bitch, her temper’s scary as hell.”

Another customer was full of disappointment. “Is that Meng Shi, the talented beauty who was quite famous many years ago? What has become of her?”

Putting on a smiling face, AnXin replied, “Exactly. It’s all because she wanted a kid no matter what. You know how a woman’s body gets after giving birth—Unsightly. She’s just leeching off her good old reputation now to scrap by. If it weren’t because she used to be some “talented beauty”, she probably couldn’t get customers nowadays at all. If you ask me, it’s all those books she’s read that ruined her.”

A customer naturally agreed. “Of course. Educated people all have that air of haughtiness about them. They just can’t let go of those little ideas they have.”

AnXin continued to comment, “If she can make a living for herself with all those books she’s read, then I have nothing to say. But really, she’s just doing it to attract men. Let’s be frank, we’re all whores here. Would reading a few books make her better than everyone else? What’s the pride for? She still gets looked down upon by people from the outside. And look how much the rest of us from the inside actually like her. For the guests who comes here, seeing a pretty little girl all reserved and proper once in a while is nice and refreshing. But who would ever want to pay to see some old, worn-out jewel like her? Her time has passed long ago. Everyone knows this. She’s the only one who still doesn’t see this……”

A pat from behind interrupted AnXin. Turning, she saw the young woman from earlier standing behind her. Without warning, the woman slapped AnXin in the face.

The slap made a loud noise. For a moment, AnXin was too startled to react. The very next moment, raged bloomed across her face as she cursed, “You bitch!!!”

The young woman cursed back, “You bitch!!! Gossiping all day long. Have you no better used for that tongue of yours?!”

AnXin screamed, “What I say is none of your fucking business!”

Their fight soon turned into a brawl of nails and teeth. In the middle of the hall, the two young women pulled at each other’s hair as they cursed the house down with mouthfuls of foul words. Phrases like “I’ll scratch up your face one of these days”, “No one would want you even if you pay them”, and others that were too vile for the ears to hear fired back and forth in the air. Many other prostitutes came and tried to break them up, saying, “SiSi! Stop fighting already!”

SiSi?

Wei WuXian finally realized why her face looked oddly familiar. If one were to add seven or eight gashes of knife wounds over her face, then wouldn’t this be the same SiSi who had went to the Lotus Pier to reveal secrets?

Suddenly, he felt a wave of searing heat rush at his face as the entire hall was engulfed in a sea of seething flames. Wei WuXian quickly pulled himself out, ceasing the Empathy.

Eyes opening, he was greeted by Lan WangJi. “How was it?”

Lan XiChen inquired as well, “Young Master Wei, what did you see?”

Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he replied, “I’m guessing that this Guanyin Temple is the place where Sect Leader Jin grew up.”

Jin GuangYao was silent and still. Jiang Cheng asked, “The place where he grew up? Wasn’t he……” He was just about to say ‘Wasn’t he raised in a brothel?’ when it dawned on him. “This Guanyin Temple used to be a brothel. After he burned it, he rebuilt it into a Guanyin Temple!”

Lan XiChen asked, “Were you really the one who set the fire?”

Jin GuangYao replied, “Yes.”

Jiang Cheng sneered, “You sure admitted that easily.”

Jin GuangYao said, “Now that we’re here, would one more crime make a difference?”

A moment of silence later, Lan XiChen asked, “Was it to erase the traces of your roots?”

Although many people knew that LianFang-Zun was raised in a brothel, all these years, few actually knew which brothel he had come from. Thinking back, it was indeed quite odd. People all suspected LianFang-Zun to have a hand in it. He must have done something in the background, purposefully manipulated things such that the details of where he was born and raised remained hidden. No one had probably imagined him to have actually burned the place to the ground.

Jin GuangYao replied, “Not completely.”

Lan XiChen sighed and didn’t continue. Jin GuangYao asked instead, “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

Lan XiChen shook his head. A beat of silence later, instead of answering the question, he said, “It wasn’t that I never knew of the things you’ve done. I simply believed that you were under difficult circumstances.”

He continued, “However, you’ve done too much. And I……no longer know what to believe anymore.”

His tone was heavy with exhaustion and disappointment.  

Outside, thunder roared and rain poured. Strong wind leaked through the gaps of the temple’s door. Amidst the whimpering wind and the howling storm, Jin GuangYao suddenly dropped to his knees.

Everyone was startled. Even Wei WuXian, who had just taken Jin GuangYao’s sword, was surprised as Jin GuangYao said in a weak, defeated voice, “Er-ge, I’ve wronged.”

“……” Hearing this, even Wei WuXian was almost starting to feel embarrassed for him, and couldn’t help but say, “Um, you know, we don’t have to talk, let’s just fight it out. Can we please just fight?”

Jin GuangYao’s could change his attitude in an instant, bending his knees without any hesitation, dignity or pride. A complicated expression lingered on Lan XiChen’s face. Jin GuangYao continued. “Er-ge, all these years you’d known me, no matter what, you should know how I’ve been to you. I no longer wish for the Chief Cultivator’s position. The Stygian Tiger Seal has also already been destroyed. I’m heading for Dongying[4] after tonight, never coming back. For the sake of everything, please spare my life and just let me go.”

Heading for Dongying. To put it plainly, he was running away. What an embarrassing thing to admit. Yet, Jin GuangYao was quick to adapt, preferred to bend than break, and would rather go soft than hard unless no other option was left. With the Lanling Jin Sect’s power and influence, suppressing a sect or two, even a handful or so, would be no problem. But if all the sects and clans started rallying against him, it would only be a matter of time before history repeats itself, before the Lanling Jin Sect becomes the next Qishan Wen Sect. Rather than desperately holding on before the inevitable, it might be better for him to just retreat now. Hiding out of sight and preserving his strength, perhaps one day he could return and rise again from the ashes. Wei WuXian said, “Sect Leader Jin, you say that the Stygian Tiger Seal has already been destroyed, can you take it out for me to take a look?”

Jin GuangYao replied, “Young Master Wei, a replica is not the same as the original. There’s a limit to the number of usage, it’s already completely useless. Besides, you should know more than anyone how much resentful energy lingers on such a thing. Do you think I would bring a useless item that’ll only attract disasters on my person?”

Wei WuXian, “Well I wouldn’t know. Maybe you can find yourself another Xue Yang?”

Jin GuangYao said, “Er-ge, everything I’ve said is true.”

He sounded so earnest and sincere, and he really had been nothing less than polite and respectful the entire time he had held Lan XiChen captive. As such, Lan XiChen actually found it quite difficult to be mad at him here and now, and could only sigh. “Sect Leader Jin. I’ve already told you back when you insisted on orchestrating the battle on the Burial Mound, you don’t have to call me ‘Er-ge’ anymore.”

Jin GuangYao said, “The battle on the Burial Mound was madness, and I’ve wronged. It was a terrible mistake, but I had no other choice left.”

Lan XiChen asked, “What do you mean no other choice left?”

Lan WangJi frowned slightly and warned, “Brother, stop talking to him.”

Wei WuXian gave his own remainder as well. “Sect Leader Lan, remember how you’ve warned Sect Leader Jiang? Stop talking to him.”

Lan XiChen knew what Jin GuangYao could do with words. Yet, hearing that there might be more to the story, he couldn’t help but want to listen, and it was exactly what Jin GuangYao was aiming for.

He said in a low voice, “I received a letter.”

-

Footnotes:

[1]: Xiao-Meng: “Xiao-” is a prefix before a name as a form of endearment, literally means “little.”

[2]: AnXin-jie: “-jie” or “-jiejie” is a suffix after a name. Means “older sister”, can also be used on its own.

[3]: Yaoqin: 瑶琴 is a type of guqin. The “yao” here is the same character as the “yao” in Meng Yao’s name.

[4]: Dongying: This is basically Japan.

[estelwenadia]

WangXian Week 2019: Day 4 - Farewells

It was a month after Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's wedding, when Wei Wuxian said, while laying on his husband's lap, with his husband's fingers sifting through his hair.

"Hey, Lan Zhan. Let's go travelling."

Lan Wangji did not stop the motions of his fingers. "Where to, Wei Ying?"

"Anywhere our feet lead us," Wei Wuxian reached up a hand to touch Lan Wangji's face. "I want to go travelling with you. Just us, to see the world out there."

"Why should I go to see the world out there, Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, his voice unimpressed, "when the world is lying on my lap right now?"

"Lan Zhan!"

Chuckling softly, Lan Wangji kissed Wei Wuxian's fingers. "Anywhere you wish to go, Wei Ying, I will be right beside you."

That was last night.

The following morning, while waiting for Wei Wuxian to wake, Lan Wangji packed the essentials for their travel.

And now, they were bidding their farewells to the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Qiren, Lan SiZhui and Lan JingYi had come to see them off.

"Uncle."

Lan Wangji bowed, and beside him, Wei Wuxian did the same.

"Travel safe, Wangji," Lan Qiren finally said. "Bring glory and honor to GusuLan wherever you go. And Wei Ying."

Startled at being addressed to, Wei Wuxian snapped upright and tried his best not to stutter. "Yes, sir?"

There was a long pause as Lan Qiren regarded his son-in-law critically. After a long moment of contemplation, he said, "You may call me Uncle. We are family now."

Wei Wuxian was so surprised he stood staring after Lan Qiren's departing back.

"Senior Wei, HanGuang-Jun," When Wei Wuxian glanced at SiZhui, the boy threw his arms around him, encompassing them both in a tight embrace. After a moment, Lan JingYi joined the hug. "Please come back safely. We will miss you."

Wei Wuxian crouched down so he would be able to hug them properly. Already he could feel the shoulders of his robes wet with the boys' tears.

Wei Wuxian reached up to affectionately ruffle their hair. "Don't worry, A-Yuan, JingYi. We will definitely return. The two of you will be the future Twin Jades of Lan, so please remember to uphold what you have been taught, and most importantly, trust your instincts."

"We won't forget."

Lan Wangji helped Wei Wuxian to his feet.

"Bring us back souvenirs from your travel, alright?" Lan JingYi grinned, and then laughed at Lan Wangji's "No promises."

As Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian turned to go, with Little Apple in tow, a presence caused them to stop, and turned around again.

"Zewu-Jun."

Lan Xichen had came to see them off. He was still smiling, but exhaustion tugged at the corners of his lips and grief still cast deep shadows in his eyes.

"Wangji. Young Master Wei."

"Brother."

"Zewu-Jun."

"Have a safe journey," Lan Xichen said. "Do send word of your adventures from time to time, if you are able to. We will be waiting."

Wei Wuxian nodded, but Lan Wangji looked troubled. "Brother..."

Lan Xichen gripped Lan Wangji's shoulder gently. "Worry not about me, Wangji. It will take time, but I will be fine. Wuxian."

Wuxian?

Eyes wide, Wei Wuxian looked at the first Jade of Lan.

Lan Xichen offered him a warm, genuine smile. "Welcome to the family."

[Time Skip] "Lan Zhan?"

"Mn?"

"Do you want to sit on Little Apple? You must be tired of walking."

"I am fine, Wei Ying."

"Alright, then, if you say so. By the way, where are we going?"

"Lotus Pier. You need to say your farewells too."

"Lan Zhan!"

"Worry not, Wei Ying. I will not leave your side."

[At the Lotus Pier] 

"So?" Jiang Cheng sipped his tea, Jin Ling tensed beside him, "What brings the esteemed HanGuang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch to my humble abode?"

Wei Wuxian didn't touch his tea. He always dreaded confrontation with Jiang Cheng. Nearly all confrontations with him did not end well.

Lan Wangji placed a comforting hand on his lap, grounding Wei Wuxian with his presence.

"We will be... going for a journey so... I would like to say my goodbyes," Wei Wuxian fidgeted.

Steeling himself, he stared right at Jiang Cheng. "Jiang Cheng, I know you... don't like me very much, and that you don't want to see me again, so, if that's what you want..."

Jiang Cheng slammed down his cup, Jin Ling startled, and Lan Wangji's eyes flashed.

"Did I ever say that?" Jiang Cheng snapped. "How the fuck do you know what I want, when you didn't even ask me what I want?!"

Helplessly Wei Wuxian asked, "Then, what do you want, Jiang Cheng?"

"I want you to..."

Hesitantly Wei Wuxian prodded, "Jiang Cheng?"

"Be my brother again!" Jiang Cheng roared, tears dripping down his cheeks in steady rivulets. "I don't care about the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng, but I want my brother back!"

Shaking, Jiang Cheng clenched his fists. "You are an uncle to Jin Ling. He has just lost an uncle... Don't make him lose another by leaving and not coming back!"

Jin Ling let out a gasp. "Uncle?"

"Jiang Cheng..."

Jiang Cheng glared at Wei Wuxian. "Before you go, I want you to visit Father, Mother and Shijie. That is also why you are here, right?"

"Yes, but!"

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. "Go."

Lan Wangji tugged Wei Wuxian to his feet and off they went to the ancestral hall.

------------

"Uncle Jiang, Madam Yu, Shijie, I am here again with my husband Lan Zhan to disrupt your peace. Please forgive our intrusion."

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath. "Once again, I seek your blessing, this time to watch over us as we set off on a journey far and wide to see the world together."

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. "I just want you to know that I have always considered the Jiang family as my own family, and Lotus Pier has always been my home, if Jiang Cheng allow me to come back."

"Uncle Jiang, thank you for finding me in Yiling when my parents had passed, and for taking me into your family. I would not have been able to survive, or be who I am now if not for your kindness and generosity."

"Madam Yu, I know you have never liked me, but I am grateful to you just the same. I will always treasure your guidance and discipline in teaching me about the cultivational world and training me into the ways of the YunmengJiang Sect, even though you disliked me. I am sorry, Madam Yu, because I know when Uncle Jiang brought me in, the strife between you and Uncle Jiang had only gotten worse. Believe me when I say that it is never my intention to disturb the harmony in your family."

"Shijie..." Wei Ying was smiling now, despite the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Thank you for your love, kindness and warmth that you had bestowed me. And of course, your delicious pork ribs lotus soup which I can never replicate. I miss your hugs, smiles and laughter all the time, but I am sure Jiang Cheng misses you more. And despite everything, I repaid your kindness through pain. It's my fault that Jin Ling lost his father, that you lost your husband, and it is also my fault that Jin Ling lost the both of you, and it is my fault that Jiang Cheng lost you. That, is something that I can never forgive myself. I am sorry, Shijie."

"Wei Wuxian."

Startled, Wei Wuxian hastily wiped his face and rose to his feet. He faced Jiang Cheng with a smile, tremulous as it was.

Jiang Cheng leaned against the door, arms crossed, a haunted look on his features. "From now on, Lotus Pier... Opens its doors for you."

"Jiang Cheng..."

Jiang Cheng raised his chin, his voice firm. "This is afterall, still your home."

What Jiang Cheng said next, his voice was a near whisper, "Furthermore... It is not your fault."

Wei Wuxian couldn't hold back anymore. He threw himself at Jiang Cheng and hugged him, crying onto his shoulder. Wei Wuxian could feel Jiang Cheng tightening his grip, and soon, he felt his shoulders wet with Jiang Cheng's tears.

After awhile, they parted, sniffling. For a moment they stared at each other's crying faces, then suddenly, they burst into laughter.

"You look gross," Jiang Cheng commented, pushing Wei Wuxian away. "Go with your husband. Lotus Pier awaits your return, Wei Wuxian."

Lan Wangji slid an arm around Wei Wuxian's waist as he waved at Jiang Cheng, "Make sure you are married by the time we return, Jiang Cheng! I look forward to see you with a wife... A husband would do too!"

"You! No one else is a cutsleeve like you!"

Wei Wuxian stuck out a tongue at Jiang Cheng. "I am a cutsleeve only for Lan Zhan!"

"Wei Ying." Lan Wangji gently steered Wei Wuxian towards the exit before the banter could worsen.

They were about to reach the gate when they heard Jin Ling's voice shouting.

"... Wei! Wei Wuxian!"

They turned around and saw Jin Ling running towards them.

Most specifically, towards Wei Wuxian.

"Jin Ling?"

The young man shifted on his feet. "I just want to tell you that you are welcome to visit me anytime at the Koi Tower, together with HanGuang-Jun. So if you are nearby, please come in for a visit!"

Grinning, Wei Wuxian dipped his head in a slight bow. "I am honored, Sect Leader Jin."

There was a complicated expression on Jin Ling's face, so Wei Wuxian could not help but draw him into a brief hug, then patting his head before pulling away.

Stunned at the abrupt display of affection, Jin Ling froze.

"Listen to your uncle, alright, Jin Ling?" Wei Wuxian smiled softly. "He means well."

"You are my uncle, too." Jin Ling mumbled, staring at the ground.

Wei Wuxian blinked, as though he had not heard correctly. "What was that?"

Jin Ling flushed. "Nothing!"

"Jin Rulan..." Wei Wuxian warned.

"Don't call me that!"

"Why not? I gave you that name. I will call you that unless you call me Uncle Wei. That was what you were calling me earlier, right, Jin Rulan?"

Jin Ling flushed. He wanted to lie, but the look on HanGuang-Jun's face stopped him.

"Alright, fine!" Jin Ling huffed. "Stay safe on your travels, HanGuang-Jun, Uncle Wei."

They left Lotus Pier with lightness in their steps and in their hearts. 

Afterall, not all farewells are meant to be sad, meant that separation would be forever. Sometimes, there is hello in goodbyes, and reconciliation and closure in farewells.

[incarnateirony]

Writers lie. Death doesn’t. My brain hurts.

What fascinates me is how honest Death has been (or at least seemed) throughout the series. In comparison to Chuck. I started writing a drabble about that and it turned into a whole other brain adventure on ideas of “why the TWEEST”, where it might lead, and so on.

I’m about to tuck this giant ass rant which weaves in and out of gnostic and hermetic thought alongside how it may apply to our canon since it’s very “stream of thought” on my part involving everybody being so damn shocked at WHAT A TWIST with Chuck while I was like “Y... yeah? Wait- wait that- oh I forgot most people don’t think like I do.”

There is also a long list of related posts I’ve been drumming on about all season:

(x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU’RE MISSING PIECES AFTER READING THIS, DOUBLE BACK. Cuz at this point I’m just at stream of thought on where Dabb and co may be taking this.

So, addressing Chuck, the creator, the world builder, the liar.

A preface: Hermeticism believes in gnosis as fundamental understanding, but not all Gnosticism is Hermeticism, as over time, Gnosticism grew into a TOTALLY separate branch that was popularly considered nihilistic, whereas Hermetic stuff was generally more optimistic. I’ll address them separately, even if they’re incredibly related and roll back to that closer to the end.

Nous. Chuck is Nous (or Nous II, which I’ll get to WAYYYY below). At times Nous is divided into three forms -- Thought, Reason, and Anthropos. Anthropos is the human soul, destined to return to god. Much like the (terribly delivered) ideology of S6-7, the idea is that God is made of innumerable souls, and those that conduct themselves properly may become powers of god.

At the same time, cosmogeny is a hot fucking mess. Any person who dabbles in cosmogony that’s worth their salt will still tell you that, well, they weren’t there at the start of the world, but Empedocles was the sharp kind of whip that got to the important truths that I think will be the real human moralistic line of our final season for our actual heroes, Team Free Will: “Love and strife are the two principle forces driving all things. Things come together, things fall apart. The rest is commentary.” That’s a bit of an aside, just here while we’re literally poking at the Supernatural cosmogony in canon.

Billie and God, they’re at strife here -- in the end, I’ll reap god, too.

On the other hand, Team Free Will tend to make their choices based on love.

A few points to get out of my way before I circle to my original point: modern Gnostics revere Lucifer as Prometheus. I feel I’ve missed that important word in my brush overs. Modern. Thing is, that’s a modern invention completely absent in sources like the Pleroma. But the Apocryphon of John did lend toward it. The whole cascade of symbology ends up with them saying Jesus and Lucifer are one in the same, but again, modern invention, but definitely a step The Powers That Be have not even hinted or breathed in the direction of and I don’t see them taking that step. That said, Lucifer called out propaganda. And regardless of if Lucifer is a modern or ancient christ figure, the gnostic contempt for Jehovah wasn’t particularly a secret.

Because regardless of if the snake in the gnostic garden was Lucifer or Satan (it IS in Supernatural), it was a savior figure breaking through Chuck’s false reality. A constructed reality. A veil of lies built around a creation he wanted run HIS way.

Chuck’s false reality has been REPEATEDLY addressed as propaganda by Lucifer, who we didn’t want to believe. Chuck misguided them as a lowkey writer right off the bat. Chuck disregarded their prayers for years. Chuck only came back when his ass was on the line from his own equal and opposite pole but gave a really nifty drama story on why, which Lucifer AND EVERYBODY ELSE was pretty much given to swallow or just deal with it anyway.

But summarily, in gnostic tradition, Jehova is the actual satan and the snake was just misunderstood for trying to break the matrix everybody was in, which hits some later biblical curiosities when various affiliated names like the morning star, and phosphorus, both Luciferian, are also given as properties of the holy spirit. EG in Revelations, Jesus calls himself the morning star too. Let’s do a head flip here. But wait didn’t some preacher say the morning star was Lucifer and Lucifer was satan and - hold up, what.

Again, I’m not speculating TPTB are gonna say Lucifer is jeebus. If anything, his child here, Jack, is the christ figure we’re about to face, turning over the laws of the old cruel god in the time of apocalypse. But this idea that it’s just all so sudden that Chuck is turning around when he’s habitually made lies and excuses is kinda crazy to me? Like, he poofed out at the end of S5, so TPTB have known since then? Chuck has literally been lying through the whole series and this is just forgotten because Rob is a super sweet bean everybody loves? Chuck has forged an entire matrix of misery, or infinite multiples, and then decides to try a different story? Sam and Dean are his guys? They keep it interesting, until they try to take HIM down?

But with all the gnostic and hermetic symbolism, this is on point? But Chuck has been lying the whole time? Whereas Death, arguably... has not? I literally didn’t trust them to ever try to take this road on main stream TV?? Like???? This is really balls out???????????? In a christian coded culture?????????????????????

Which rides back to my original point in starting these rambles, discussing Billie: Billie may be neutral, cold and uncaring on a human empathetic level, but Death has arguably never lied. Left out parts of the truth, but never lied. There’s question on if she lied to Dean with The Last Book, but where do her books even come from? Are they Chuck’s shed drafts? And furthermore, this season had a distinct theme of adding words or readings that weren’t in the actual text (the gorgon note, the pearl journal) on interpretation. We still have grossly vague abstract idea of what was actually in that book, versus how Dean interpreted what was in that book and in the end, she still said what he did with the knowledge in that book was up to him. Just that it wouldn’t end in Michael using him to burn down the world. This is inarguably true.

Which lends to the idea of Death as a true natural force purposed for balance.

Whereas it took until season 14 for JehovaChuck to confess, just as biblically,

“I form the light and create darkness, I make peace, and create evil…” (Isaiah 45:7)

The word translated “evil” is from a Hebrew word that means “adversity, affliction, calamity, distress, misery.” Other major English Bible translations render the word: “disaster” (NIV, HCSB), “calamity” (NKJV, NAS, ESV), and “woe” (NRSV). The Hebrew word can refer to moral evil, and often does have this meaning in the Hebrew Scriptures.

In retrograde some of this is impossible for them to exist since, we know, original draft REAL LIFE SIDE, angels were never intended and all of that hoohah. So the complexities of “The snake in the garden wasn’t really a bad dude, just a misunderstood rebel, and God essentially = Lucifer” which, in the long term, rolls into the gnostic pessimistic view. What we call god was basically satan all along with a false matrix of control. Gnostic world view is that god is a lying dick and the snake wasn’t all so bad and we should listen and break out. The end.

Hermetics address this in god being good, but still having a wholeassed other set on polarities and what actually defines good, and reaches above a metaphorical jehova-head for an actual god. The All. In The Nothing. Also really super duper familiar right now.

Which cycles back to season 5, “In the end, I’ll reap god, too.” Spoke Death. He clarified the chicken and the egg ambiguities, which again, *rolls another circle around*

Back to gnostic first:

We have a forefather or pro-arche, a pre-beginning, a fore-father,  considered as the idea of Depth -- with whom existed Thought who’s also called Grace and Silence. The Empty Space & Grace, then Mind & Truth. But Nous, the Mind, born of Depth & Grace, sent forth Word & Life and brought forth Anthropos & Ecclesia - Man & Church, which were the primal eight.

Now, gnosticism is a really broad wash, some sects have REALLY wild ass takes on what causes death, but the simple idea of Death is quite literally beyond... like-- if god created The Word (huehuehue) and Life, it’s not that Death is even its own force, so much as a negative space contrary to the work of Nous.

Chaining in my stream of thought here for a second, tapping back to “God was never on your side” as both the lead-in and lead-out of the season tells me that for all the gnostic/hermetic stuff flying around, this season did lean into gnostic Nihilism (huehuehue). The question is if the hermetic Optimism (huehuehue) is going anywhere, because that’s where my recent gong banging about the Shadow (huehuehue), The All, and all of that is on about and it’s just hanging out there, like an invitation for them to face their mirrors and take on the godhead themselves, beyond Chuck, and own that role -- or, yes, could just be reduced to an uber villain.

Fascinatingly, The All as it was used in FMA - which you may remember me dropping a gif of here or there to compare to the Empty Smile - was also Truth. *points back up to the above*

Anyway, to the hermetic reading, it’s a matter of how, if at all, they subvert their own dark-god roll here. The Gnostic God is a dick. The Hermetic god can still be a dick, but his motivations in creating the universe are notably less intentionally malignant. The god of 14.20 is the gnostic god. The question is if he has a hermetic optimistic lining.

The accounts vary slightly, but summarily man was much like the angels at first, a being of androgynous soul unchained to the physical realm, who helped DESIGN to the original world, as *points back above again* god himself is actually a collective vat of souls, or the substance that makes souls. “Let us make man in our own image,” as it were. Nature looked up at man and fell in love with it. Man looked down at nature and fell in love with it. But man fell in love with creation and wanted to dwell in it, and then variably yeeted themselves into the physical world or, by some accounts, were chained into it. Which made them subject to sleep, sex... and yes, gave life, but also the possibility for death. It leads to a state of reincarnation until they’re worth reuniting with the godhead. 

Basically, it’s the tale of the angels fall itself, which I think is more where we’re going to see the hermetic aspect rearing its head in this telling. But I could be wrong. Shrug emoji. Man looks up at angel falls in love with it, angel looks down at man and falls in love with it, angel yeets self into human world. Sounds super familiar or something somehow. Shrug emoji again.

Because there’s also the hermetic issue of Nous and... Second Nous. Nous II which is actually closer to The Word made the planets and all the cool stuff, but Nous I actually made man, which makes a hella complicated part in our SPN lore I don’t expect to see addressed. But the creation myth introduces astrology, planets, and man, law - destiny -- from which man is expected and given to rise above. Man with power over creation. “You create your own reality” is literally the idea here. The idea that man has a dual nature -- the immaterial soul, and a physical body after the fall, sending a piece of the heavens into man.

But that man is also the equal, or at least potential equal of god, which kinda disturbs the hell out of fundamentalist christians. “As above, so below,” the Ouroboros is more than a cycle, but also the respective interconnectivity and equality of all things. Some hermetic schools even believe “God only knows what you know,” making the earthly experience or, in SPN, the story a learning experience for the creator as well as the individual, though this is sorta not-cool to fundamentalists so, *tosses papers in air*

Either way about it, Hermeticism addresses the uh, multiple levels of God and the Nous, just like Nous was not necessarily First Tier Creative Force as much as chicken or the egg or second timeless force against other concepts of NothingSpace. 

Summarily, Gnosticism addresses the world as a dark, shitty place full of demons to overcome, a constant struggle to attain higher levels, and an escape at the end in death. The hermetic view is not dark, it’s about beauty and divine harmony, and instead of escaping the world he expands himself to command the world. Which, respectively, gives us two VERY different endings of a new godhead or absolute humanity as the goal in standing against Chuck and what he’s driving them to do.

As for the motivations, even hermeticists can’t agree on that. Does the All have something to gain by acting? Is it compelled to? Or is it like the Kybalion yells, “THE ALL ACTS BECAUSE IT ACTS.” or like Michael, “because I CAN.”

But The All as the true Nous would also be above Chuck. Chuck would be the masculine Jehova. We have the feminine Shekinah in Amara. Chuck is Nous II, whether or not SPN lore addresses if Nous I (The Shadow?) created man or not or just snowballs it into one thing.

And Death, beyond God, a void presence, a silence in the midst of Depth, beyond the Word and the Life but able to read it and keep balance, has its own bones to pick -- without lies, without words, simply with action. But Death is not the end, really, especially not in hermetic rebirth. It’s merely a point of change. But we know even god can die. And in the end, Death will even reap god. And we are in the end. Even God has said it. So, buckle in folks as we deep dive into some crazy level theology.

SPN Cosmogony is making my head hurt is what it is but I see our potentials and they’re all very interesting.

Again, cycling back to related/accessory posts:

(x) (x) (x) (x) (x)