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ceilidho · 6 months

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prompt: reader is a large animal vet making a house call to a certain ex-SAS member's ranch.

It’s the first time you’ve been called out to this ranch.

You’ve been to some others in the surrounding area—just last week you stopped by a ranch just half an hour away—but never this one. It’s far out of the way, almost tough to find—you miss the turnoff twice, each time forced to turn back around and squint to find the poorly marked dirt road leading to the ranch. Your shoulders only unclench when the ranch house finally crests over the horizon and you spot the horses milling around in the fenced-off enclosure.

They must have had an in-house vet prior to calling you out. None of your colleagues remember ever visiting and the ranch is big enough to necessitate one. It sprawls across the landscape, acres upon acres. The kind of ranch that deals in thoroughbreds, horses that go on to graded stakes races. In the pen already, you can pick out Thoroughbreds and American Warmblood, the distinctive spotting of an Appaloosa, even a couple Hanoverians.

There are men working around the ranch outside of the main enclosure that you park just a dozen or so yards away from, but something about the man standing by his lonesome with the horses makes you pause.

A head taller than the rest, and built like a redwood. Bandana affixed around the lower half of his face, almost bandit-like. You shake those thoughts out of your head. You’re not here to pass judgement on people; you’re here for the horses. Whatever scars mar his face are hardly your concern (still, rugged, you think, a bit breathless even sitting in the front seat of your truck).

When he turns in your direction, eyes locked on your truck and then locked on you when you pop into the back to grab your bag, your back straightens. Imperceptibly, yet still. Compelled to measure up somehow, to whatever standard he expects.

He strikes you as the man in charge. “Mister Riley?” you call out, shielding your eyes from the sun.

He beckons you over with a gloved hand. Even from the distance, he leaves you unsure of yourself, quick to stumble when his stare starts to burn.

“Doc,” Riley greets you when you’re close enough, and you fight back a shiver. His voice rumbles like thunder, like hooves pounding into the freshly tamped earth, into the dirt.

“You called about a pregnant mare,” you remind him.

The bag in front of your legs puts a bit of distance between the two of you, a needed buffer. Up close, he towers like sequoia, in fact, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, old tattoos on his left arm faded like beaten leather. He holds out a hand though, forcing you to take a step forward out of politeness and shake it. Your lips tighten at the touch of his skin. It’s weathered too, coarse palms and fingertips; there’s dirt caked around his nail beds, the kind that never comes out, the world’s indelible mark on the skin.

He stares at you for a moment without speaking. There’s no helping the way you squirm under his gaze.

“The horse,” you remind him, cheeks hot.

“She’s in the stables; I’ll bring ya to her.”

You struggle to keep up with him, bag bumping against your leg as you haul ass after him. Big as he is, he moves quickly, fast on his feet—used to quick beasts, you know, probably used to anticipating their movements, always one step ahead. Your last shred of decency keeps you from staring at his ass the entire walk to the stables.

Her coat is a rich coal colour, mane sun-bleached. Inky eyes peer back at you when Riley lets you into her stall. It’s cooler inside somehow, out of the inescapable glare of the sun; the sweat on the back of your neck stays wet under Riley’s eyes though, nervous rather than weather-born.

She’s gorgeous though, the mare. Pretty as can be. Heavily pregnant too, you can see. Obviously well taken care of too, still decently muscled like she’s still been taken for walks and rides during her pregnancy.

“She’s too far along now to ride,” he tells you when you remark on that, his voice carrying in the confined space. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it makes you perk up again, at attention, head whipping over your shoulder to look at him.

“I can tell. A little over two months ‘till she delivers,” you say with a nod, looking down at the chart you have on her. “I can come back for her last deworming before she foals, if you want.”

He grunts, doesn’t answer. You take it as an affirmative.

It doesn’t take you long to run through her check-up. A docile girl, you coo when she lets you touch her without any sign of aggression, sweet-tempered thing. It’s second nature after all, at this point in your life.

Still, you find yourself watching Riley out of the corner of your eye, careful under his watchful gaze. Not that you usually aren’t, but still. Your movements feel intentional, precise.

When he walks you out, you get a bit bolder in the sunlight. Freer to pester him with questions.

“Did your last vet retire or something?” you ask, fishing for information. It’s probably none of your business, but you find yourself curious anyway. There are a few different vet practices operating in the area, so it’s always helpful to know who’s going to your competitors.

He shakes his head. “Friend of mine went to school for this—been with me as long as I’ve had the ranch. He got hitched a couple weeks ago though.”

“Moving away?” you guess.

“Opening up a practice,” he corrects, making you frown. That’s worse, at least for you. “On his honeymoon this month though, so he gave me your name.”

“My boss’ name, you mean.”

“That’s right,” he says, and you realize that he’s walked you all the way to your car, half-pinning you to the door of your truck. Just close enough that a new layer of sweat breaks out on the back of your neck. You have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. “Don’t know if I caught yours, little filly.”

Now that makes you stutter over your name, confidence finally failing you. When he hums like he’s caught your name in his head now, mapped it to you with his sharp eyes, you feel yourself swallow reflexively.

“Not like you’ll need it for long,” you tease, trying to gain back some semblance of control. “Just until your friend gets back and sets up his practice, at least.”

“Not sure about that. Might find some use for you yet,” Riley says, close enough now that you can tell he smells of hay and silage, peppery when you breathe in too heavily.

And you breathe too heavily. Hard not to when he crowds you up against the truck, hand laying flat on the roof, boxing you in. You wonder if any of the ranch hands are looking over at the two of you, curious.

“What do you mean?” you ask, head empty. Mouth dry enough now that it hurts a bit to swallow.

His brown eyes glint in the sun. Honey gold under the light. “I can think of a few reasons to keep you around.”

#i dont know if brits have ranches so imagine he moved to the states or something id ont CARE #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost/reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2

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silentmagi · 6 months

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Rising Star

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What sign of civilization lay before them?

5. A Watermill

In fairness to Luna, the squat building of wood and stone was not much civilization, the building and wooden wheel slowly turning with the river’s flow attached to it were certainly a sign of civilization. Judging by the lazy trails of smoke floating out of the chimney suggested that someone was around.

Sadly, the building was across the river from them, and the flooded waters prevented them from getting to it easily. While it was a heartening sight, they had to let out a sigh and pressed on. There was probably a bridge nearby where they could cross over and get to the village it possibly supported.

Pressing on, they found the banks of the river growing thinner, and had to take to the trees again to weave their path while keeping the river in sight. After an hour, they came to a road, and just a few yards away, a bridge. Deciding to cross the river now, they took the bridge, and found the road curving back along the river to reverse their direction. Well at least now they’d be able to talk to the people at the mill, and maybe even get some extra supplies.

The road was well kept, and the cart was easy to move on the stones used to fill in the muddier parts of it. The three of them were grateful for the break from cloying mud and constant dampness, though they’d have to remove some of the mud on Edmund’s legs and flanks before too long.

They were greeted by a wooden fence with a simple gate in about half the time it took to get to the bridge, and beyond it lay the building of the water mill. Outside the front door were two worn and well used rocking chairs, and inside one of them was an old man having a pipe. “Why hello there travelers,” he called out, raising the pipe in greeting. “I see you were caught by the rains.”

Star bit her tongue as Luna stepped forward and with a smile evident in her voice, addressed the elder having a laugh at their troubles. “I suppose you could say that Grandfather, and we got turned around. Could you tell us what village is nearby?”

“About a mile the way you’re going is the village of Tricreek,” he answered, stroking his beard in thought. “Why don’t you two come in and sit a spell? Mother would love to have company over for supper, and then you can join the morning carts to the village with the flour.”

“We would be much appreciative of the hospitality grandfather, and as a bard, I can offer a song for my supper, or a tale to tell.”

The laughter coming from the old man seemed to draw the attention of a picture perfect example of a fairytale grandmother, all dimples and blush covered cheeks, as she peeked out the door to see what he was laughing about. “Forgive me ladies, but if I must say that having someone other than me telling tales would be a welcome break.”

Luna could almost feel her shoulders relax at the mention of a break, since Tricreek was actually a village she knew. She had been tempted to go to it before going to the tower, but it was a half-day’s journey out of her way.

Now? She knew that the roads would get them to Crownsdale within a couple days of an easy pace, with a couple nice inns along the way.

Seems that things are finally going their way for once…

#Story #My Writing #Rising Star #My Polls #Star #World Building #Please Participate #Star Main

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ceasarslegion · 1 month

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In your bio you mentioned you were a furry, what is your fursona?

A raccoon named Bandit! I'm actually planning on redesigning him when i have a moment to breathe (i am in the middle of so many things right now) becaue as he stands he's just a run of the mill blond-variant raccoon. I first made him when I was admittedly deep into internalized shame so I avoided any bright fun colours and stuck with something that already happens to real raccoons, but I want to toss that design out and do something actually fun.

I do have quite a few drawings of him, but about half of them are extremely horny and the other half are the design i want to scrap. But i can show you the raccoons i have in my apartment!

I found this guy for 2 dollars at a thrift store and had to take him home with me

These christmas ornaments were gifts from @alphabetsoupcomics because we went to uni together and he came to visit after i graduated and moved away

These shifty guys adorn my laptop

And this little buddy attached to my work bag accompanies me on my commute. Featuring my fluffy animal paw pajama socks in the background

Once i decide on a design for Bandit, i hope to get started on a fursuit for him. For now, i just have a set of paws

#furry tag

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jaywhangmakes · 1 year

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Instead of groaning over Disney's live-action remakes, support independent animations.

(Note: I once posted a now-deleted blog post about the same topic. This is a revision based on my proofreaders' suggestions.)

I have seen a lot of people groaning about Disney’s live-action remakes and lamenting how 2D animation is “dead” in the West, especially in light of Sean Bailey’s announcement of a live action The Lion King saga. Most of these complaints are about Disney prioritizing remakes instead of animated works, or worse, trying to kill off 2D animation. The thing is, the world doesn’t need to rely on the Walt Disney Studios for innovation in hand drawn animation. Even if the animation industry in the western hemisphere is marginalized, there are animators who want to rebuild this industry from the ground up. Before you buy a ticket for the next live action Disney remake, consider backing some of the following crowdfunding campaigns for independent animation projects. Yes, some of these crowdfunding campaigns are for 3D animations as well, but compared to mainstream 3D works, these feel rather personal and humble.

These are the projects that are currently looking for funding as of June 8th, 2023.

BOXTOWN: THE PRODUCTION CROWDFUND

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Boxtown is an indie animated noir buddy comedy about a con man detective (played by Alex Hirsch, creator of Gravity Falls and voice of Bill Cipher, Grunkle Stan and Hooty) who teams up with an innocent, true-crime-obsessed orphan with a hidden murderous side (played by Tara Strong, known as the voice of Twilight Sparkle, Timmy Turner, Miss Minutes in Loki, and Ben 10).

Funding due date: July 2nd, 2023, 4PM EST

The first I heard about Boxtown was through TikTok videos where Charlie P. Gavin, the series’s creator, asked voice actors to audition their characters by stitching their submission to the casting call video. The way Bandit Mill Animation’s production team casted this project showed me the importance of transparency and having their supporters and followers participate in their process. This project has brought in animation industry veterans, top voice-acting talents, and up-and-comers to create a new kind of neo-noir comedy animated series. I want to know more about where this project is heading considering how much the creators have put their passion into it.

CHEW GUM: An Animated Musical Series

kickstarter

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CHEW GUM is an adult animated musical series created by Shane Curry, based on characters he's been animating for many years. Early incarnations of the characters have garnered over 28,000,000 (twenty-eight million) views on TikTok alone, and this series is the culmination of years of animation development, songwriting and voice acting all rolled into one weird ball of gum.

Funding due date: June 30th, 2023, 4PM EST

Similar to Boxtown, I came across CHEW GUM while searching “independent animation” on TikTok. A day later, I encountered the producer of this series and the main organizer of the crowdfunding campaign at the underground animation screening held in Brooklyn. On the way home, we talked together about the state of independent animation, some advice regarding crowdfunding, and I shared my own works with her. That night, I watched the series and I found them rather adorable. If you’re looking for an easy-to-watch 3D steam that feels pleasant, this series is for you.

Constancy Roa OVA

kickstarter

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Constancy Roa is an OVA (Original Video Animation) brought to you by the creative minds at InfinityArk, an up and coming animation company. It does not have a specific genre, instead opting for the more melting pot approach of the 90s to early 2000s OVA anime series. Which means it has action, drama, romance, adult situations, graphic violence, and dark comedy. At its core, it's a war story between Cygens and Humanity. Approximately, five minutes of the hour-long pilot contained scenes with adult content. It is inspired by works like the Bubblegum Crisis OVAs, Project A-ko, and the game series Megaman X. We hope to make a series that will bridge the gap between current anime and "retro" anime of the past. This OVA is about Cygens, which have been unleashed and the world will never be the same. A new melting pot style OVA series that bridges the old and new.

Funding due date: 07/06/2023 8:00 AM EDT

This is a throwback to the late 90s/early 2000s OVA anime, when visuals are grungy and animation reflects as such. The style reminds me of those OVAs that Manga entertainment used to promote on their home videos with KMFDM’s music in the background. In fact, I wanted animated works that tried to replicate the feel of the older media, much like how the movies The Lighthouse or Pearl did. My twitter friend Shakyra Dunn is involved in this as the voice for the character Natasha Gifford. She is very much excited about this project.

Jades Diary Season 2

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An animated mini-series following the adventures of Jade Raven.

Funding due date: June 18th, 2023, 3PM EST

Like Chew Gum, I came across Jade's Diary through the TikTok discover page. It is an independent animation crowdfunding campaign that’s still going on and only has a handful of supporters. I haven’t seen the first season of the series. But I loved the animation style so much that I really wanted this campaign to succeed. It was almost like our homegrown Studio Trigger project.

Sunnyside Magic High: Animated Short

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Sunnyside Magic High is an indie animated coming-of-age action-adventure pilot set inside the high fantasy world of Cora. It follows four magical royals who attend a prestigious academy where they hone their magic and prepare to one day rule their own kingdoms. An animated short introducing you to four magical, unstable royals and their prestigious academy.

Funding due date: July 22, 2023

I am writing this while New York City is stuck under the Quebec wildfire smoke apocalypse. I need something wholesome to get my own doomer feeling out of my mind while surviving this smoke-filled apocalypse. And this series could uplift my downer mood in recent days (or years). It seems like this targets people who are nostalgic toward the Renaissance period of the Walt Disney Studios where they produce animated musicals with coming-of-age themes. Not only that, the series could fill up the empty space in every Harry Potter’s fans’ heart after they were disappointed by its author’s bigotry.

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stitchlingbelle · 6 months

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Watching Avatar, Part 6

6. "The Blind Bandit": An underground bending fight club? Ok, I did not see ANY of this coming. (Which I suppose is appropriate.) I like Toph a lot, she's hypercompetent, snarky, and kicks ass. I also liked the nods to Asian cultural fashions that we haven't seen before in this episode-- that hanfu-style (I think) gown she wore in the garden was stunning. (Granted, it was also a storytelling choice showing us Who Her Parents Are Trying To Make Her Be, but you know. Aesthetically. It was pretty.) Her parents are obviously a Problem and I'm anxious to see how that resolves.

7. "Zuko Alone": On one hand, this was a very predictable episode that hit all the usual notes for this kind of character arc. On the other hand, it also had some pretty important lore drops. But for me, it was also a big OH SHIT moment, because this meta is the one of the reasons I finally caved and decided to watch the show. (The other, of course, being @shifuaang 's tireless advocacy. Also I think she reblogged the post where I could see it in the first place.) Anyway, nice to finally see it in context. Interesting to see what Iroh was like before he Grew As A Person. Desperate to find out what happened to Zuko's mom.

8. "The Chase": Very well-done episode that accomplished a LOT, but I didn't love how much the first half dragged. (Also I have serious questions about the realism of Azula's train-thing following them that fast.) But it set up some great character stuff, including another member of the Gaang getting to meet Iroh and see how great he is, which will clearly pay off later. But the real thrust of the episode was confirming Azula as a Grade A threat. The writers are very clever about making the rising threat level a natural progression instead of a 'you just Leveled Up, here is the Next Boss' thing. However, AZULA, HOW COULD YOU? I'm pretty sure Iroh lives but STILL. (Also, Zuko, you exhaust me.)

9. "Bitter Work": A nice run-of-the-mill episode, necessary character- and plot-advancing stuff. I still have a tendency to say "WTF is with the ANIMALS on this SHOW?" almost every episode, and this was no exception. What a fun but utterly bizarre bit of worldbuilding they chose to go with, you know? But hey, it does constantly reinforce the Not Our World bit at every turn. I am getting very tired of Zuko.

10. "The Library": Toph's reaction to the sand was very interesting, great worldbuilding (and a necessary nerf, given the plot). The nonviolence angle again brought up by the spirit, who I knew they would disappoint but it was sad anyway. I would have been interested to see them ask it more about how to protect without violence, or have tried other not-technically-violent research questions like about Avatar stuff. (Also I'd love to see what the spirit's reaction to the scholar staying behind out of True Desire For Learning was.) But of course, we end with Appa GETTING KIDNAPPED??????? Which is both incredibly upsetting and also a brilliant storytelling choice. Both the Gaang and we the audience have taken the safety and convenience of travel-by-sky-bison entirely for granted. Taking that away is a gutting move, on top of the emotional loss. Aang is clearly not handling this well, even worse than I expected. (Toph deserves everything for saving their asses and then putting up with this, all in one day.) Worried about the next episode.

#avatar: the last airbender

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ghelgheli · 9 months

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The Stuff I Read in August 2023

Stuff I Extra Liked Is Bold

Books

Raven Stratagem, Yoon Ha Lee (2017)

Reconsidering Reparations, Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò (2022)

The Mirror of My Heart: A Thousand Years of Persian Poetry by Women, trans. Dick Davis (2019)

The Origins of Unfairness, Cailin O'Connor (2019)

Short Fiction

the prisoner, ignatz

The Unwanted Guest, Tamsyn Muir

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat, Sakaomi Yuzaki

Still Sick, Akashi

Born Again Bunny, ignatz

A Museum of Dubious Splendors, Studio Oleomingus

In the Pause Between the Ringing, Studio Oleomingus

The Indifferent Wonder of an Edible Place, Studio Oleomingus

Game Theory

The Bargaining Problem, John Nash (1950)

Two Person Cooperative Games, John Nash (1953)

Perfect Equilibrium in a Bargaining Model, Ariel Rubinstein (1982)

Marriage and household decision making: A bargaining analysis, Marilyn Manser and Murray Brown (1980)

Evolutionary Game Theory

The theory of games and the evolution of animal conflicts, John Maynard Smith (1974)

The Logic of Animal Conflict, John Maynard Smith and George R. Price (1973)

Why imitate, and if so, how? A boundedly rational approach to multi-armed bandits, Karl Schlag (1996)

On the Stability of Racial Capitalism, Liam Kofi Bright, Nathan Gabriel, Cailin O'Connor, Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò

Fairness and Signaling in Bargaining Games, Mihaela Popa-Wyatt, Roland Mühlenbernd Jeremy L. Wyatt

Inequality and Inequity in the Emergence of Conventions, Calvin Cochran and Cailin O'Connor (2019)

Power by Association, Travis LaCrois and Cailin O'Connor (2020)

Why Natural Social Contracts are not Fair, Cailin O'Connor (2022)

How to Put the Cart Behind the Horse in the Cultural Evolution of Gender, Daniel Saunders (2022)

Division of Labor, Economic Specialization, and the Evolution of Social Stratification, Joseph Heinrich and Robert Boyd (2008)

On the emergence of minority disadvantage: testing the cultural Red King hypothesis, Aydin Mohseni, Cailin O'Connor, and Hannah Rubin (2021)

Philosophy (broadly construed)

"But What Are You, Really?" The Metaphysics of Race, Charles W. Mills (1998)

Heterosexualism and the Colonial/Modern Gender System, Maria Lugones

Extracted Speech, Rachel Ann McKinney (2016)

Nozick's Entitlement Theory of Justice, Kenneth J. Arrow (1978)

Nietzsche, the Chinese Worker's Friend, Ishay Landa (1999)

Measuring Conventionality, Cailin O'Connor (2020)

Other

Who Was Barbie? various @ nplusonemag

Lockhart's Lament, Paul Lockhart

Female Hunters of the Early Americas, Randall Haas et al.

We Have No Moat, and Neither Does OpenAI, anonymous

The Bitter Lesson, Rich Sutton

The Evolution of Individual and Cultural Variation in Social Learning, Alex Mesoudi et al.

Medieval Arab Lesbians and Lesbian-Like Women, Sahar Amer (2009)

"My son was castrated as a result of a medical error. Is it OK to raise him as a eunuch?" Thomas W. Johnson and Richard J. Wassersug (2021)

#reading prog #as you can tell most of the evo game theory is complete contemporary crap #everyone thinks they're a psychohistorian

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

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Discordant Rhapsody - ao3 - Chapter 7

Lan Qiren’s luck, for once, turned out to be good: the Jiang sect disciples were still there at the base of the mountain, milling around with confused expressions on their faces.

“What happened to your sect leader?” Lan Qiren asked, and was promptly informed that Jiang Cheng had stormed down the mountain in an utter fury and then left without saying a word to anyone.

He suppressed a sigh.

“When your sect leader runs off in a bout of emotional disorder that potentially renders him deaf and blind to the threats around him, you must follow him at a distance so that you may ensure his safety, while still respecting his privacy,” Lan Qiren informed the lost Jiang disciples. They seemed relieved to be instructed – but then, he supposed, they were very new to the details of being a sect outside of war. “Also, you shouldn’t tell outsiders, such as myself, too much about it. Just say that he left, without including the additional details.”

“Thank you, Teacher Lan!”

“Mm. Could I ask one of you to send a message to the Cloud Recesses on my behalf?”

“I’ll take it there myself!” one of them said enthusiastically.

Ah, youth.

Lan Qiren commissioned the young disciple to carry a simple message – that he was not in seclusion, that he would be delayed but was on his way back, that he would explain everything once he’d arrived, and not to listen to scurrilous rumor, should there be any, prior to his arrival – and went to the town to make the initial travel arrangements.

Once the carts were arranged, he promptly entrusted the remaining details to his new ‘disciple’ and took the opportunity to sleep for a little as they made their initial lumbering way back towards Gusu.

‘A little’ turned out to be two days again.

Even after he woke up, Lan Qiren spent most of the remaining parts of the trip in meditation, stabilizing his disordered qi and centering himself, trying to heal. It was probably a little inappropriate for him to leave the burden of managing their transportation to Wei Wuxian the way he might with his nephews, given the newness of their relationship as master and disciple, but Lan Qiren thought it was nevertheless acceptable – Wei Wuxian was a master in his own right, even if of demonic cultivation, and anyway he’d been head disciple for the Jiang sect for years and years now. Besides, what was the alternative? Lan Qiren was sick and Wei Wuxian still understandably bitter about being forced to accept other people’s help; he was fairly sure neither of them wanted to spend the travel time talking.

(Lan Qiren did permit Wen Qing to bandage up his fingers and forearms, even if he refused to allow her to treat him further without some supervising presence. After examining them, she’d asked him how he’d incurred such bruises, pronouncing that his fingers looked as though they’d been “smashed up in a grinder to make a sauce”.

“My right hand was the victim of a lady in the throes of labor, who was using both hands to express her feelings regarding her husband,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Qing had let out a startled laugh.

“Well, that’ll do it,” she said wryly after she’d recovered. “But if she was using both hands on your right hand, what happened to your left?”

Lan Qiren sighed. “That was the husband.”)

They were able to make very good time with their travels. Although they encountered the dangers Lan Qiren had feared, Wei Wuxian did an excellent job at keeping them both on track and safe – or perhaps, more accurately, Wen Ning did. His obviously dead skin and blackened veins were sufficient to frighten away any mortal bandits, while his extraordinary strength was more than capable of fending off any animal pests. Wei Wuxian supervised the battles with a fearsome aura that was somewhat undercut by Lan Qiren’s realization that he had a particular manner of spinning Chenqing that was suggestive of anxiety, and by his fussing over Wen Ning immediately after any encounter, no matter how brief – though the few times that Wei Wuxian had felt obligated to provide Wen Ning with some back-up had made very clear to Lan Qiren how unmatched he really had been against Wei Wuxian at the Burial Mounds; if Wei Wuxian had truly been aiming to kill him at that time, he would have been dead, element of surprise or no element of surprise.

Only once were they confronted by actual cultivators. Lan Qiren had worried about that most of all, since he could not in good conscience fight against anyone seeking a justified revenge against the Wen sect, but Wei Wuxian managed to solve the problem quite neatly, hopping around in the shadows and deterring the would-be attackers with the now-famous sound of Chenqing without ever actually summoning anything.

(“An acceptable compromise?” he asked cockily when he returned to the cart, chest puffed up and entire demeanor as pleased as a cat bringing a dead bird home to show off its ability as a provider. “If they were really out for revenge, they wouldn’t let themselves be scared away so easily.”

Lan Qiren doubted that – a gentleman could wait ten years for revenge, rather than risk their own lives in a suicide charge against fearsome demonic cultivation – but he supposed it really was a good solution, under the circumstances.

“Well done,” he said, and Wei Wuxian briefly looked actually surprised before his reckless grin started up again, a thousand times brighter than the previous version. “Now write me an essay explaining your motivations so that we can have a contemporary record of the events that occurred tonight.”

“A – what?! No! Teacher Lan, be reasonable –”)

In the end, before Lan Qiren entirely knew it, the area surrounding their cart had grown familiar.

There was a certain joy to coming home, he reflected, that was unlike any other.

Even when you knew you would be getting a cold reception, even when the familiarity grew tedious in its repetition, even if that home sometimes felt confining as a prison, even given everything, it was still home. Everything welcomed him back: the grounds, the buildings, the plants…the people.

“Shufu!”

Lan Qiren was in the process of getting off the cart with Wen Ning’s assistance, his legs having grown a little stiff from all the sitting he’d been doing, when he heard the shout.

He looked up to see his two nephews coming forward to greet him, both walking slowly and gracefully, as the rules commanded. Lan Xichen looked anxious, running his eyes up and down Lan Qiren as if to confirm that he was intact, gaze darting around to take in the Wen sect huddled behind him and Wei Wuxian by his side. He did not look surprised, but rather was very clearly matching rumor to reality in his mind, trying to figure out what he could of the truth.

Lan Wangji…

Lan Wangji only had eyes for Wei Wuxian.

Lan Qiren’s normally reserved and even expressionless nephew was looking at Wei Wuxian the way a flower inclined towards the sun or a compass pointed north. It was as if everything else in the world had faded away in importance, becoming secondary – as if Wei Wuxian was his whole world.

In all honesty, Lan Qiren was…

A little relieved?

He was distraught, of course. That wild and overwhelming sort of love, the sort of love that blinded like looking straight into the sun, was everything he had always counseled his nephews against, everything he had tried his best to prevent. It was the sort of love that let a man do terrible things and make terrible choices, if only he could convince himself that it was on behalf of the one that he loved – a hateful, selfish sort of love, a love that allowed for no rivals. A love that allowed for nothing else, a love that cast aside all else, a love that was selfless only in that there was nothing held back.

A love like a disaster.

But Lan Qiren had already known that Lan Wangji had fallen in love like that from the very first moment he had heard him say take someone back, heard him say unwilling; even if Lan Wangji never took any actions, he felt it enough to say the words – and that was proof enough. Lan Qiren had already resigned himself to being unable to stop the tsunami in its tracks, and had satisfied himself with being only able to do what little he could to ensure that the rising flood did not cause too much damage in its wake.

So the overwhelming emotion in his heart at the moment was not pain and sorrow, although both were present, making him think wistfully to himself that there was truly no stopping children from making the mistakes of their elders, but rather a far simpler feeling of plain relief. As they had journeyed to the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren had started to wonder, with no little anxiety, whether he had gotten things wrong – whether it was someone else that Lan Wangji loved, not Wei Wuxian. After all, he’d never been told directly who it was, but had only put it together through supposition and logic; it was entirely possible that he’d guessed wrong.

But…no. He’d been right.

Lan Wangji loved Wei Wuxian.

He was in love with him – more than that, he was mad for him. It was plain on his face, right there out in the open where everyone could see.

“Heeeeey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, bouncing a little on his toes and trying on a smile. “I’m guessing you heard the news, right? Looks like you’re struck with me now! Try not to be too angry about that, all right? For your uncle’s sake!”

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched.

Apparently his original assumption that Wei Wuxian had been making light of Lan Wangji’s feelings in a deliberate attempt to needle him had been overly generous, and he had instead been in earnest in thinking that Lan Wangji disliked him. While Lan Qiren begrudgingly admitted that that could be understandable, given the rumors about their bad relationship, the fact that this view apparently remained intact in the face of Lan Wangji’s utterly besotted expression…

Lan Qiren reminded himself that Wei Wuxian was a genius. They said geniuses were often deficient in other parts of their lives, didn’t they? The more technical expertise, the less common sense, the more, ah, limited the social awareness…no, let him be accurate: Lan Qiren had limited social awareness.

Wei Wuxian was just blind.

“Wei Wuxian is…inaccurate, but not incorrect,” Lan Qiren said, deciding to save wondering what sort of idiot he’d bound himself for life to for later. “I have accepted him as my personal disciple, and have invited him to remain at the Cloud Recesses for a time.”

Until the Jiang sect was strong enough to accept him back, which could be a very long time indeed.

“Shufu, we should probably – talk,” Lan Xichen said delicately, then turned and greeted Wei Wuxian with a polite, “Wei-gongzi, welcome.”

It was a somewhat distant greeting under the circumstances, but Lan Qiren understood the delicacy of the moment. They were standing here out in the open beside the gateway to the Cloud Recesses where anyone could see. As sect leader, Lan Xichen would need to consider very carefully all of his next steps, mindful both of the sect’s face before the outside world and of what was likely the fierce internal opposition to Lan Qiren’s actions. They would, in fact, need to talk.

“Mistress Wen, the same to you,” Lan Xichen said, giving her a polite bow, which she returned, looking surprised. She shouldn’t be, of course; Lan Xichen had excellent manners, even under dire circumstances. Though he was hesitating now, glancing briefly at Lan Qiren – it took a brief moment, but then Lan Qiren understood the implicit question. He inclined his head in very faint affirmative, encouraging his nephew to continue. “And…Wen-gongzi as well.”

“Ah,” Wen Ning said, looking even more surprised to be addressed. He saluted back. “T-thank you, Zewj-jun.”

Lan Xichen nodded.

“I have given my word that the Wen sect will be permitted to remain at the Cloud Recesses without harm, in return for their promise of good conduct and agreement to remain under supervision,” Lan Qiren said, more for his sect’s benefit than Lan Xichen’s, who would have acted properly regardless.

“I will ensure it myself,” Lan Wangji said at once, and Wei Wuxian turned to look at him in surprise. Lan Wangji looked stiff as ever, but inclined his head a little towards Wei Wuxian. “If you would – allow me.”

Lan Qiren would deal with that later.

“You should all rest and refresh yourselves,” Lan Xichen murmured, peerlessly diplomatic. “We can discuss all details later. Shufu, there are several here who would very much like to speak with you.”

Probably the doctors, Lan Qiren thought, feeling a little annoyed at the thought. He was fairly sure that at least some of the rumors would have made it out that he’d been ensorcelled, as Jiang Cheng had mentioned as a possibility, and it was no surprise that his sect would want to check on that. It was probably better to let them, rather than to resist, no matter how annoying he found their hovering…

“Qiren-xiong! Qiren-xiong!”

Lan Qiren blinked.

“Third Uncle,” Lan Xichen said, his eyes irrepressibly curving into a very faint smile at what was probably his favorite relative besides Lan Wangji – even above Lan Qiren, if Lan Qiren were being honest about it. “I thought I asked you to wait in shufu’s quarters.”

“Why would I?” Lan Yueheng asked, hobbling forward at speed. He was using the crutch, which usually meant he was having problems with his leg prosthetic again, but under the circumstances might just mean that he was opting for speed over dignity – it was a very Lan Yueheng choice to make. He was only just barely obeying the rule against running. Again. “You’re too filial! You’re not going to wring Qiren-xiong’s throat for worrying everyone to death, and someone’s got to do it.”

“Yueheng!” Lan Qiren said sharply, speaking simultaneously with Lan Xichen’s similar exclamation of censure, albeit more respectful given the age difference between them. The censure was well deserved, to Lan Qiren’s mind – what was Lan Yueheng thinking? His cousin was impulsive and more free-spoken than most in their sect, but he usually knew better than to do or say anything in public that might embarrass the sect.

“What? The Wei boy’s your disciple, isn’t he? That makes him one of us,” Lan Yueheng said with an airy shrug. “I’m only not allowed to talk when there’s outsiders around, right?”

Lan Qiren’s heart suddenly stuttered with an unexpected burst of worry as he abruptly understood what his cousin was doing.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected that his sect would be highly displeased with what he had done, even enough to make even Lan Xichen tread carefully – he’d known that would undoubtedly be the case. But for Lan Yueheng to so very firmly and very publicly be planting himself on Lan Qiren’s side of the debate, signaling to everyone where he stood, well, that suggested that they were even more upset than he had anticipated. Of course, Lan Yueheng would have been on Lan Qiren’s side regardless, being one of Lan Qiren’s best friends. Lan Qiren had not doubted for a moment that he’d have his cousin’s support, even in his lowest moment of terminal stupidity – but the support was welcome nonetheless.

Welcome…but still worrying.

How bad was the reaction inside the sect that Lan Yueheng felt the need to make a scene in front of everyone?

Lan Xichen looked like he was developing a headache.

Lan Qiren was very, very familiar with that headache. He regretted that he was now its cause, adding another burden to his nephew, but…surely Lan Xichen would understand once he’d explained, and together they would think of a way to make the rest of the sect accept it.

He hoped, anyway.

“Yueheng-xiong, do not act impulsively,” someone said. Lan Qiren recognized the voice as another of their sect elders, Lan Bocheng, and that was concerning, too – there was bad blood between them. Lan Bocheng was even more of a conservative than Lan Qiren, wanting to keep things the same just for tradition’s sake, and just as stubbornly unyielding; he’d been quite close to Lan Qiren’s brother, and Lan Qiren had ended up having to make an example of him in his early years as sect leader even though he hadn’t been one of the worst offenders. That Lan Bocheng felt comfortable scolding Lan Yueheng in front of everyone was not a good sign in the least. “Putting aside the matter of Wei-gongzi, there is still the Wen sect here. Avoid imparting knowledge to the wrong individuals.”

“Feh, it’s all the same,” Lan Yueheng said, glaring right back. “Win friendship through kindness, see friends as neighbors, Bocheng-xiong.”

Lan Qiren cleared his throat pointedly, drawing attention.

“Both of you are of course right,” he said, a warning to them both. “The interplay between those rules is undoubtedly something we can all discuss later.”

“That would be for the best,” Lan Xichen interjected smoothly, and Lan Qiren suppressed a wince – he’d fallen back into the habit of being acting sect leader, which he wasn’t any longer; it should have been Lan Xichen that had censured the two of them for bringing a private dispute out into public. “Shufu and his guests have just returned from a long journey, and they are undoubtedly tired. We should see them settled first. Wangji and I will handle it from here.”

That was a clear enough dismissal, verging on the painfully blunt – also not a good sign, given Lan Xichen’s natural inclination towards gentle diplomacy – and the others in the sect that had come to observe quickly dispersed. Lan Yueheng did not, wearing that stubborn expression that suggested that he was about to become selectively deaf if anyone decided to be even more direct about where he should or shouldn’t be located at any given moment.

“Guest quarters have been prepared,” Lan Wangji said, his eyes flickered over to Lan Qiren with a guilty sort of expression – probably more for ignoring him up until now rather than for having made preparations in advance, even though that was a little presumptuous as well. Lan Qiren would have words with him later. “Please follow me.”

Wei Wuxian fell into step with him at once, which was…interesting. “Hey, Lan Zhan,” he whispered, voice not quite quiet enough not to travel. “Who’s the cool Lan?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer, thankfully, even when Wei Wuxian nudged him with his below. Lan Yueheng glanced hopefully at Lan Qiren, seeking confirmation, and grinned proudly when Lan Qiren nodded to confirm that Wei Wuxian had been talking about him. The things he put up with, really…

Another thing to discuss later, he supposed. There were getting to be quite a lot of them.

They were about halfway to the guest quarters when Lan Yueheng nearly stumbled into Lan Qiren’s back. It was atypical of him given how careful he was these days, so Lan Qiren twisted to look: Lan Yueheng was looking down, blinking, at Wen Yuan, who’d somehow gotten free of his grandmother’s care and was now tugging at Lan Yueheng’s robes.

“Stick uncle!” he said, looking up at him with big eyes. “Why do you have a stick? You’re not old like Granny.”

Lan Qiren had a perfect view of his cousin’s face, so he could see the exact moment Lan Yueheng decided it was critically necessary for him to informally adopt yet another child, as if the seven he’d had a personal hand in creating and most of the rest of the sect children, all of whom scented weakness in the air like wolves and liked to swarm to him whenever they saw him, were insufficient.

“You’re right! What a smart boy you are,” Lan Yueheng said, crouching down a little to get on Wen Yuan’s level, making Wen Yuan beam. “I don’t use as stick because I’m old, I use a stick because a dragon ate my leg.”

Lan Qiren pinched his brow with a sigh that wasn’t quite a groan even as Wen Yuan gasped loudly.

“A dragon?” he said in admiration. “Really?”

“Oh yes! A great big old fire-breathing dragon. He marched through the grass like a wicked old snake, burning everything around him –” Lan Yueheng was doing the hand gestures and all. Between seven children and years of being one of the sect’s most enthusiastic volunteer babysitters, Lan Yueheng had a lot of practice charming children; Wen Yuan was already eating out of the palm of his hand. “He was making such a big fuss! Like you wouldn’t believe! There was all sorts of yelling, all sorts of loud noises – boom! crash! – and a lot of buildings fell over, too. He was awfully mean. And when he got to me…chomp! There goes the leg!”

Wen Yuan squealed in ghoulish delight, clapping his hands.

“He didn’t really, though,” he said, clearly wanting to believe but suspicious in a way that suggested he’d been successfully tricked before in regard to missing body parts – in fairness, Wei Wuxian looked like the sort of person who would ‘steal’ a nose or ‘lose’ a thumb. “Right?”

Lan Yueheng pretended to pout. “What, you don’t believe Uncle? Do not lie is a rule. Look!”

Shameless as ever, he hiked up his robes to show off the prosthetic leg he and the other alchemists and artificers of the sect had put together. It was a strange-looking thing. The initial efforts made had been more along the lines of the prosthetics created before the burning of the Cloud Recesses, when the people who needed them were mostly retired and wanted limbs made of jade that were carefully painted to look as much like the real thing as possible, but they’d all quickly realized that those things were cumbersome and impractical for people like Lan Yueheng, who were very much still active participants in daily life. They’d eventually settled on something not unlike the simple peg occasionally seen to be used by sailors, only they had made it gently curved like a wave, using blue steel like a spiritual sword, with arrays for all sorts of purposes etched into the metal.

It was both practical and rather pretty.

“Wow!” Wen Yuan exclaimed, his eyes wide. “It’s like a dog’s paw!”

Lan Yueheng laughed hard enough to bend over at the waist. “Just don’t call me dog-uncle!”

“A-Yuan, A-Yuan, get back here!” Granny Wen bustled forward, scooping him up. “Thank you for your indulgence, Master Lan.”

“Not at all,” Lan Yueheng said, straightening himself up. “He’s only a little older than my youngest boy. I hope they’ll be good friends in the future.”

Granny Wen looked a little dumbstruck by the statement.

“Definitely the cool Lan,” Wei Wuxian opined not-so-quietly from where he was standing alongside Lan Wangji, and Lan Qiren couldn’t help but agree, feeling warmed by his cousin’s regard, knowing that it was primarily for his sake that Lan Yueheng was putting himself out there. Though given Lan Yueheng’s fondness for children and inability to bear anyone a grudge, he might’ve done it regardless…

“How is Zhang Xin?” Lan Qiren asked as Lan Yueheng fell back into step alongside him, leaving Wen Yuan to babble happily in Granny Wen’s arms. “Recovering well from the birth?”

“Oh, yes, she’s fine – scratching at the walls to go outside already, same as always,” Lan Yueheng said with a smile. “And A-Shen is wonderful, too! Bawling his eyes out every moment he can, the little brat. He’s got a wonderful set of lungs. I think he misses you.”

“I doubt he remembers me. He’s only met me the once, and he was a little busy at the time being born.”

“He still misses you!”

(“Oh, so that’s the husband,” Wen Qing remarked from behind them. “Teacher Lan’s poor fingers. No wonder!”)

#mdzs #lan qiren #wei wuxian #lan xichen #lan wangji #wen qing #my fic #my fics #variations #discordant rhapsody

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queen-of-the-weenies · 11 months

Text

The Bandit Queen's Bride: The Marketplace (Part 2)

See, I promised :)

Also link to part 1

~~~

Jin stood from her spot on the cushion, making a mental note to buy a better one for the old man. Last thing she needed was him hurting his hip and whinging for days about how the cushion was to blame. He deserved better than that. The gold bits felt hot in her hand, begging to be spent, but she held herself in check. Patience, Jin… Patience…

Her eye caught on a flash of something shiny, drawing her attention across the market square. There, nearly drowned out by the crushing mass of bodies shuffling by, stood a woman with her auburn hair contained in a net of woven gold threads and diamonds, lending a sparkle to every minute movement of her head. It was the dazzling flash that had drawn Jin’s eye, but that was hardly the thing that rooted her in place.

No, what stopped her dead was that, as she peered over the sea of bodies milling about in a lazy shuffle, the woman looked back at her, and their eyes locked.

Maybe it was the heat from standing in the sun. Maybe it was the claustrophobic press of the crowd before her. Maybe it was the headache born from days of stress and hunger and sleeplessness. Whatever the reason, Jin found herself struck dumb by the eye contact. It lasted just a second--less than a second, truthfully.

But it was long enough.

She was barely aware of “Blessed fuckin’ stars” leaving her lips in a breathless tone. If she’d still had her wits about her, the Bandit Queen would have been mortified that her interest was so obvious. At least the only of her bandits who witnessed the lapse of composure was Gallum. Entranced, she began wading through the crowd toward the woman, who’d already turned away to examine the wares of the stall where she stood.

“See anything you like, miss?”

The merchant inquired with a hopeful voice, but the words bounced around in her head without fully processing. Mella stared blankly at the table, trying to appear interested despite having no idea what she was looking at. Her thoughts were racing, already replaying the split-second eye contact she’d made with the gorgeous stranger across the way. The woman’s hair was matted and dirty, the blonde edging closer to brown in color, and her clothes were quite shabby… But her eyes… The gaze she met was dark and wild, like an animal that wasn’t quite tame. Just thinking about those eyes sent a little shiver down her spine in spite of the heat.

The merchant cleared his through, the polite sound barely audible over the noise of the marketplace, but it succeeded in drawing her attention back to the present. Embarrassed by her own behavior, Mella plucked up the first thing she saw on the table, presenting it to the merchant. If she made a purchase, surely he wouldn’t care that she hadn’t said a word for nearly a minute.

“This, if you please.”

As the words left her lips, Mella cursed herself. She didn’t have her purse with her! Freidrech had insisted that she didn’t need it. Why would she, when he could buy whatever she wanted? Of course, that was before she slipped away, leaving him to argue with the manager of the restaurant where they’d eaten lunch. He was probably still there, the insipid boar.

“Ah, excellent choice, miss! This is my finest piece among a selection of fine pieces! The price is twelve gold bits, but for the pretty lady, a mere six bits is all I ask.”

Mella stared at the man, then at her hand. In her grasp was a necklace made of woven gold, and at the center hung a pendant in the shape of a scallop shell. The pendant was carved from some kind of glittering stone, catching the bright sunlight as it turned this way and that on the chain. Six gold bits was barely a fair price for something like this; she highly doubted he initially planned to sell it for twelve, given the competent craftsmanship and simplistic design. Not that it mattered. Mella had no money.

Just as she began to put it down, mouth opening to sheepishly explain that she had no money, an arm reached past her to drop six bits on the counter.

“She’ll have it.”

Mella shivered as the husky female voice brushed against her senses. Whoever had spoken stood right behind her, reaching around her to pay the merchant. The merchant was thanking the mystery woman while simultaneously tucking the bits into a lockbox. The arm retracted partly, the slender-fingered hand resting on Mella’s bicep. Heat approached the side of her head, and the same voice whispered in her ear,

“Beautiful girls deserve beautiful things… And you are by far the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.”

Jin was in full maiden-wooing mode, forgetting about her promise to buy Gallum some cider, forgetting that they needed to scrape together as much money as possible, forgetting that she needed to not get tangled up in whatever political machinations a woman like this one would undoubtedly be involved with. The woman was only a bit shorter than her, so the Bandit Queen could whisper in her ear without bending at all, and she was rewarded with a tiny shiver in response. Had she not been touching the woman’s arm, she never would have known she reacted at all.

The woman turned her head just enough to see Jin from the corner of her beautiful blue eye. The town was big enough to have a few lesser noble families residing there during the summer months; the redhead beauty was dressed in the fine clothes and jewels of a noble daughter. Maybe Jin would be getting lucky in more ways than one today.

“Excuse me, miss, but you’re in my personal space. Did no one teach you that it’s impolite to lay hands on a stranger?”

Jin relinquished her contact on the woman’s arm and took half a step back, nearly bumping into someone walking by. The redhead turned to look fully at her, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. White silk glove, long enough to tuck under the mid-forearm length of her dress sleeve, which was edged with lace. Oh yes, this woman was definitely a noble…

“Pardon me, miss. Didn’t mean to offend.”

The woman scoffed. “Perhaps, but offense was taken nonetheless. That being said… Perhaps we shall call it even, seeing as you’ve already purchased me a gift.”

Jin felt a grin spread over her lips. The woman’s words were delivered with a sharp voice, but the way she was avoiding eye contact belied how flustered she really was. She was not the first woman to react with polite hostility to the Bandit Queen’s advances; she would probably fall just as hard and easily as the others.

“Please, dear lady, allow me to make up for my indiscretion with another gesture. Let me to buy you a drink to quench your thirst. The sun is hot today, and a beauty like you should be kept cool in the shade.”

The woman seemed to consider the offer. Her lips parted slightly, and Jin’s gaze fell to them, admiring the shape of them… Imagining what it would be like to kiss them… To hear the desperate gasps and cries for mercy that the Bandit Queen would wring out while her own lips trailed down the soft curve of her neck and shoulder…

“There you are, my lady! You vanished while I was distracted.”

The sound of a man’s voice shattered the daydream filling Jin’s head. The redhead stepped quickly away, then around her to be greeted by a man with a handsome face and a suit of such bright white silk that he was blinding in the sunlight. This was a man who demanded attention with his very presence, and Jin hated him immediately.

I’m going to lose my mind, Mella thought to herself. The strange woman was so close, grinning at her as if she found the entire situation amusing. At first, Mella had been too sidetracked by her bold demeanor to notice anything else… But the sound of Freidrech’s voice cut through the fog in her mind. She stepped past the woman to intercept him, hoping to distract him from noticing how close a total stranger had been to her just seconds ago.

“Freidrech, it’s about time you stopped fussing over the lunch bill and joined me. I was beginning to think you’d gone and forgotten about me.”

Freidrech huffed and took her hand, lifting it to press his lips against the silk-gloved fingers. “Nonsense, my lady,” he said with a slight smile. “You leave too great an impression to ever be forgotten.”

His gaze slid past Mella’s face to look past her, and for a second, she worried that he would pick another pointless, petty fight with someone he saw as beneath him. But he did not. He released her hand, chin lifting and his arm offered out for her to hold onto.

“Come, my lady. We have an appointment to keep with Lord and Lady Volet. It would be a shame to disappoint them.”

She reached out, sliding a hand around his arm, and allowed herself to be pulled away from the market stall. She knew that looking back was a terrible idea--surely the stranger had taken the hint and moved on to the next pretty woman to flirt with.

Still, as Freidrech blathered on about how important it was to impress Lord Volet, Mella found herself glancing over her shoulder… And meeting the gaze of her approacher, just as dark and strange as the first glance, watching her intently as the distance between them grew. In her other hand, hastily tucked into the pocket of her dress, she clutched the scallop shell necklace tightly.

#anna's story emporium #writing #The Bandit Queen's Bride #should I tag this as lesbian yet #lesbian

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