Nie Huaisang having fainted in the Nightless city, he is left behind when the escape happens. As punishment for the group, and to make up for the shame, Wen Chao tosses his in the Burial Mounds. Who could have known the usueless Nie second master had such an incredible talent at resentment, and how to wield it? (Yilling Patriarch! Nie huaisang)
Wei Wuxian’s back hurt from the fall.
In fairness, many things hurt from the fall – arms, legs, ass, head – but his back especially.
He sat up, rubbing the place in question, thinking that it was a good thing that he hadn’t broken any bones because he didn’t have a golden core to help heal him, and looked around his new…imminent gravesite. The Burial Mounds wasn’t a place that people left, as a general matter, and he could feel the roiling pulse of resentful energy all around him, threatening to sink under his skin, and without a golden core – well. He’d just have to be extra clever to come up with a way out.
He couldn’t leave Jiang Cheng alone, after all. Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli; they’d be heartbroken if he didn’t come back. He didn’t want them to end up like – well. He just didn’t want them to be upset.
And there was always the matter of getting revenge…
He was just walking around when he saw a sudden burst of movement – a hand shooting out from the misty forest – and he reacted accordingly. Wei Wuxian would like to say that “reacted accordingly” meant that he leapt back in a mature and graceful manner befit of an experienced cultivator, already calculating his next step to fight off whatever horrific creature lingered in the darkness, but actually he jumped straight up into the air and shrieked like a small girl encountering her first ghost.
“Wei-xiong?” the apparition rasped.
Wei Wuxian was holding up his fists, which wasn’t actually going to help him at all – no golden core – but then he realized he’d just been addressed by name, and rather intimately, too. “…do I know you?” he asked, squinting, and the vague silhouette took a step forward into the limited light of the moon.
It was –
“Fuck,” Wei Wuxian blurted out. “Nie Huaisang?! You’re Nie Huaisang!”
Nie Huaisang blinked at him. His skin was bleached pale, dark circles smeared under his eyes; he was too skinny and his clothing was in tatters. There was definitely a possibility that he was a ghost.
“Wei-xiong,” he said again, voice hoarse, and swallowed as if trying to moisten it. “What are you doing here?”
“I got kick-dropped here by Wen Chao,” Wei Wuxian said. “What are you doing here? The Wen clan said they executed you after we all escaped! Your brother –”
He stopped.
To say that Nie Mingjue had not reacted well was an understatement.
It was getting to the point that people weren’t saying his name, weren’t even thinking it in connection with loss, less they be tainted with the same pain and madness. And all the while, he insisted that somewhere, somehow, Nie Huaisang was still alive…
They’d all thought he was simply deranged with grief, but apparently, unexpectedly, he was right.
“Wen Chao dropped me here as well,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’ve been scavenging, mostly. There’s some wild potatoes, birds…I’m not strong enough to get out.”
That didn’t sound good.
“How did you survive?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I thought…and Wen Chao definitely thought…there’s so much resentful energy!”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that. What did you do?” He reached out and took Nie Huaisang’s hands in his, checking his pulse. There was one, which was good, even if it was sluggish. At least he wasn’t actually a ghost.
Nie Huaisang swayed a little as he stood there.
“Wei-xiong,” he said slowly. “Do you remember back when we were at the Cloud Recesses during one of Teacher Lan’s lectures, and you had that idea about using resentful energy?”
“The time I got kicked out? Sure, I remember it. What about it?”
“You said that resentful energy was energy, too,” Nie Huaisang said. “That it could be used just the same…you were right.”
Wei Wuxian stared at him, then looked around him. “But you cultivate swordsmanship!” To the extent he’d thought about cultivating with resentful energy, he’d thought maybe music, or talismans, or something else to manipulate the energy without actually allowing it to dominate him; he’d dismissed the idea of using orthodox cultivation methods as implausible – or, worse, having been tried and ending up with grotesque results. “How can you wield resentful energy like a sword?”
“Saber.”
“What?”
“I don’t cultivate the sword,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m Nie. We cultivate the saber.”
“Saber, sword, it’s the same, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian said impatiently. “One has one side, the other has two, but fundamentally we’re all doing the same thing.”
“No, we’re not,” Nie Huaisang said. “My family’s cultivation…it’s complicated.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is, you’re here now. You can help me.”
“Help you?” Wei Wuxian felt a pain in his belly, right where his golden core had been. “I’m not sure I can. There’s – something you don’t know about, with me. I can’t do what I did before.”
“You’re here now,” Nie Huaisang said again. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Now it was his turn to reach out to grab Wei Wuxian’s arms, his too-thin fingers wrapping around Wei Wuxian’s wrists like he really was the skeletal apparition he’d originally taken him for.
“I have to get out of here, Wei-xiong,” he said, and if his voice was kind then the aura around him was not – and maybe it was the lack of golden core that had slowed Wei Wuxian down, made him not sense it at first, but the aura around him was terrifying, the congealed sludge of grudge and misery of the Burial Mounds in concentrated form, as if this land were his domain and Nie Huaisang its implausible master. “I have to go back to find my brother. He’s worried about me, I’m sure. I have to go back.”
“Okay,” Wei Wuxian said, chilled to the bone. He’d figure something out – there were burial goods all over the Burial Mounds; surely some old lost soul had dropped a dizi somewhere he could use, and he could try out all those ideas about using resentful energy through music, through talismans, through whatever means that wasn’t whatever Nie Huaisang had done that had made him master of the Burial Mounds, bound to it body and soul. “Okay, I’ll help. We’ll get out. I promise.”
So, I've noticed you mentioned in the tags "time for the annual Loki-heatstroke fic", but have you considered: no heat stroke in 2019 because Loki's husband and friends have casually put the air conditioning as cold as can be, have 20 water bottles on hand at any given time, and when confronted will deny any sort of concerted Loki-preservation effort in an impressive bold-face lie, because Loki is still very bad at accepting any sort of help?
oh man, I may still write heat stroke fic in a different ‘verse (where Loki has fewer friends) but I love this, because it is totally something that would happen. Bucky ambushes Loki in hallways to shove water at him and be like “hey you look thirsty you should drink this” and glaring at him until he does. Steve has the air conditioning up to eleven and is wearing long sleeves but keeps insisting that what, this is the ideal temperature for him, what are you talking about?
Thor has figured out how to drop temperatures using weather magic, though this has the unfortunate side effect sometimes of causing dramatic shifts in larger areas than intended. He’s working on it.
Wanda keeps bringing over ice cream and smoothies and other cold dishes because Wanda shows affection by feeding people in general. and who can object to ice cream? Ice cream is delicious and she knows Loki loves it and she just wanted to share, total coincidence.
Sam shows up and is just like “hey I put an ice pack or three in the freezer, just so you know, those are great if you’re overheating, here’s one right now for you to try out, just, you know, for grins”
Loki’s like “I’m not going to die, would you all stop fussing” and no one will admit that’s what they’re doing, fussing, what, and besides, look, you end up fainting two summers in a row because you won’t admit you’re overheated and you lose all rights to protest, Loki
There has been a lot of pet!Loki, but how about: contender Loki, who lost his memories after the Void. He is found on Sakaar, is put in the arena and quickly becomes the champion. He has the showmanship, the skills, the looks: he is a star. The GM hasn't been so interested in one contender in quite some time, and quickly starts showing his champion some favors. Sakaar ships it, ships it HARD, and if anyone (aka some thunder lord) tries to get in the way of the OTP, there will be hell to pay.
You had me at “Sakaar ships it.”
it’s a love story, baby
Silarrushed to take his seat. He waved at those he knew, but didn’t stopuntil he plonked down upon the cushioned surface.
“Thoughtyou were going to be late,” his friend, Brao, greeted him.
“Nottonight. Not when our champion is fighting.” So what if he hadto hurry a few lingering customers out the door of his shop. Arrivingto the games on time when the champion was making an appearance wasmore than worth earning their displeasure.
Braoalready had his sign imprinted with the champion’s likeness heldaloft and waving. Silar was quick to hoist his own sign in the air.
Theywere not alone.
Sakaar’sarena held an air of anticipation as throngs of people jammed intothe stands. Yelling and laughing and cheering, many holding up signsand dolls and other trinkets paying homage to their favourites. Mostwere for Sakaar’s reigning champion.
Thesewere exciting times for Sakaar. Their champion was a wonder. A ratherunimpressive, unassuming specimen at first glance. Silar was presentwhen the champion first made his appearance. He was always quick to tell peopleso, not that they believed him.
TheGrandmaster’s image had appeared in the centre of the arena toannounce him that first wondrous night. “A treat, a treat, myfriends! This scrappy newcomer who comes to us from who knows where?Maybe he knows, but he’s not saying. Won’t tell me a name either. Iguess we’ll just call him Nameless for now, huh?”
Thecrowd had laughed, sensing soon to be spilled fresh blood.
“Apretty thing, fell right into my lap. Well, not my lap personally.Not that I would have complained if he had.” More laughter,cheers. “Judge for yourselves, Sakaarans. For here he is. Sayhello to - Nameless!”
Namelesswas an ordinary man. Nice to look at perhaps, but not remarkable.Pale skin, dark hair. Encased in dark leathers from neck to toe, decorated with gold plating of some kind. Hewas no lumbering giant. Had no weapons for hands, just a pair ofdaggers. Uninteresting. The crowd had jeered, ready to see himscream.
Andthen the first opponent was sent in. Then the next. And the next.
Byevening’s end, all the contenders lay dead at the feet of Nameless.Who could move almost faster than one could see. Could be in oneplace one moment, yet the other side of the arena the next. Who youcould be looking right at, but then see dozens bearing his likenessall around the arena floor and not know which one was real. Oneopponent got close enough to lay hands upon him, and Nameless madehim scream with a touch to his head before snapping his neck.
Agreat hush fell over the arena. An air of disbelief as so many oftheir favourites lay dead. Including the reigning champion. Then aneruption. Thousands of Sakaarans on their feet, cheering, screaming,throwing tributes.
Nameless,Nameless, Nameless,came the steadily growing roar.
Namelesshad looked around him calmly before taking a bow.
Thecrowd shrieked louder. Brao swore his hearing was damaged that day.Silar did not think he was telling the truth about being present.
Whenthe Grandmaster stood in his overlooking suite, all went quiet.Nameless took note of the crowd’s focus, turning to Sakaar’s leaderand bowing his head. The Grandmaster took him in with a smile.
“Well,it would appear someone was underestimated. I do love surprises,almost as much as I love rewarding them. I grant you a favour foryour impressive performance. And your survival. What can I give you?”
Namelesslooked around him, taking in his victims, his audience. His newmaster. He licked his lips before responding, taking his time. “Aname would be nice,” he said.
Aname the Grandmaster gave him.
“Aname? Hmm, let’s see. You’re very quick. Deadly. Sneaky. Lovely, too,there’s that. Let’s see. A name, a name.”
TheGrandmaster held his hands together by way of the tips of his fingersas he thought. Silar and all those around him leaned forward in theirseats.
“Aname. A name. Shadow Blade? No. Cutting Edge? Quick Toes? No, no. Howdo people who procreate do this? Oh, wait! I know!” TheGrandmaster clapped his hands together in delight. “You shall beknown as - Ripper! ‘Cause of the way he rips through his opponents.Sometimes literally. Pretty good, huh?” He looked around him expectantly as his companions all applauded before looking back outinto the arena.
Nameless,now Ripper, accepted his name with a smile and another bow.
TheGrandmaster beamed.
Silarwas eager to attend the next games to feature Ripper. They turned outto be as breathtaking as his first. As did the next. And the next.And the next after that. So went every spellbinding performance ofSakaar’s champion who moved like the wind with deadly results andclever taunts for his opponents. Always with a majestic bow to thecrowds at the end. Sakaar loved him. And so did - they suspected -the Grandmaster.
Atthe end of every fight, Ripper took his bows until the Grandmasterstood to get his attention. He waited for Ripper’s graceful inclineof his head before smiling widely and granting a favour. As time wenton, Silar began to suspect half the people in attendance were only there to find out what Ripper would ask for next.
Theywere sometimes simple requests. A nice drink. A lavish meal. A newoutfit to wear. Or a pair of boots. Occasionally Ripper would say,“The Grandmaster is as always gracious in his favours. But Ifeel greedy taking them all for myself when you already ensure Iwant for so little. Something for the people perhaps?” With asmile and a gesture to encompass the crowds watching them withbreathless anticipation.
Thefirst time he did it, the Grandmaster seemed startled before blurtinghe would give everyone in the arena currency. That brought aresounding roar of approval that won a smile from both theGrandmaster and Ripper. Over time, it became something of a gamebetween the two of them. Ripper asking for his favour from theGrandmaster be given to Sakaar’s people. The Grandmaster taking histime to think of something different with each request.
Sadly,the one night Silar missed the games was the night the Grandmastergave everyone in attendance an airship.
Thencame the time Ripper asked if he might be allowed to watch the gameshimself. At the Grandmaster’s side. The Sakaarans nearly lost theirminds, showering their champion in trinkets and flowers. When thenoise died down, with a golden flower edged in green stuck in hisraven hair, the Grandmaster granted Ripper’s request.
Therewere so many people in attendance at the next games, it was standingroom only in the stands. Silar could hardly breath for excitement.Though admittedly that could have been due to the crush of people.Some who could not secure entry to the arena were paying others totake them up over the arena in their ships in hopes they could catcha glimpse from above.
Silarcouldn’t remember who fought that night, much less who won. Likeeveryone around him, he was transfixed on the Grandmaster’s viewingroom.
Watching Ripper arrive in the Grandmaster’s company, decked outin stunning outfit of blues and purple, his hair falling to hisshoulders in curls and styled away from his face. He was even wearinga cape! Never had Silar thought watching two people sitting onopposite ends of the same couch could be so fascinating. No one couldhear a word Loki and the Grandmaster said to each other from withinthe private suite, but still could not look away. The arena couldhave been on fire and Silar would not have moved from his place, lesthe missed anything.
Andwhen the fighting was over, the Grandmaster held out his hand toRipper. Ripper didn’t hesitate to place his hand in the Grandmaster’sand let himself be led out of the viewing room.
Wageringon outcomes was always popular among Sakaarans. Though once Ripperarrived among them, there was little point. But after that night anew form of wager began circulating.
Howlong before Ripper took his leave of the arena floor to take his newplace at the Grandmaster’s side?
Silarwas betting tonight was the night. It was a long shot. Brao said hewas a fool. The odds on favourite was six fights from now. ButSilar had hope Ripper would surprise them all. For at the end ofRipper’s next fight after sitting with the Grandmaster - and everyfight since - when the Grandmaster stood and asked what favour hecould grant, Ripper gave the same reply accompanied with a smile.
“Iwill accept whatever gift my lord deems fit to give me.”
Braoswore the Grandmaster eyes glittered at this. Silar did not believehe was close enough to see any such thing.
Rumourhad it there was fresh blood among the contenders tonight. Silarheard one of the scrappers brought him in. The new ones were always arisk. One didn’t know what to expect. If they died quickly, they lefteveryone unsatisfied. If they fought well enough to survive, if notunmaimed, they could make for an exciting fight. Silar was hoping forthe latter. If this new contender gave Ripper enough of a fight, hemight be emboldened enough to ask for the Grandmaster’s ultimatefavour.
AndSilar just might win his wager.
Heand Brao chatted for a few minutes, with each other and each othersneighbours. Silar discovered he was the only who believed tonight wasthe night. But still he had hope.
Thegiant image of the Grandmaster appeared in the centre of the arena.Everyone cheered.
“Well,my loyal Sakaarans, have I a fresh and yummy treat for you! There’s a new contenderin town. And wow does he think highly of himself, let me tell you.But let’s see if he can fight. Bring out the Lord of Thunder!”
Agate on one side of the arena opened to admit a man. He moved slowly,taking his time as he made his way into the arena.
“Hedoesn’t look very impressive,” Brao complained.
“Neitherdid Ripper at first. Just wait,” Silar said.
Inresponse, Brao waved his sign with greater enthusiasm. “We wantRipper!” he yelled.
Allaround him, others took up the call. Silar joined in.
“Ripper,Ripper, Ripper!”
TheGrandmaster’s image laughed. “Yes, yes! I hear you. Let’s notput this off any long. Sakaar, I give you your champion. Let’s hearit for Ripper!”
Theimage faded away as the Grandmaster took his seat in his viewingroom. The crowd screamed in anticipation. The new contender glancedaround warily until he spied another door opening, and he fell into afighting stance.
Ripperstepped out onto the arena floor. The noise increased tenfold.
“Ripper!Ripper! Ripper!”
Ripperturned on his heel in a slow circle, arms spread wide and smiling as he took inthe crowds. He stopped when the Grandmaster’s viewing suite came intoview. Another smile. Ripper sauntered forward, daggers held looselyin his hands to face his opponent.
Whosearms has dropped to his sides as he stared at the other man’sapproach. The Thunder Lord spoke, a single word from his lips thatwas heard even in the seats furthest from the arena floor.
“Loki?”
Ripper’ssteps faltered.
ThunderLord’s steps did not. He took several forward, very quickly. “Loki?Loki!” Another handful of steps and the new contender was closeenough to Ripper to touch. The Thunder Lord’s weapons hit the groundas he grabbed Ripper’s shoulders.
Silarwas on his feet. Brao right beside him.
“Whatare you doing? Stab him!” Brao cried.
“Hewill,” Silar said. “It’s a trick. Just wait.”
ButRipper didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the Thunder Lord. Whogave him a gentle shake. “Loki, it’s me! Thor.”
TheGrandmaster was on his feet now. Across the arena people rose for abetter look. Whispered to one another. Wondered what was wrong withtheir champion. Some booed. Many yelled encouragement.
“Gethim, Ripper!”
“Fight!”
“Riphim! Rip him!”
Thecrowd took up the chant, “Rip him, rip him,” echoingthrough the air. Ripper stirred and struck without warning, plungingone of his daggers into his handsy opponent’s gut. The crowd roaredat the first blood spilled. Silar waved his sign harder. Theirchampion would not fail them.
Thenew contender staggered away, hand clutched over his fresh wound. Helooked at Ripper strangely, like he hadn’t expected the hurt.
“Brother,what is wrong with you?”
Ripperslashed at him again. And again.
“Whyare you doing this? What have they done to you?”
TheGrandmaster stood frozen in his viewing room. He looked as bewildered as Silar felt.
Ripperfought with none of his usual grace. His steps were off. Hismovements jerky. When he did his trick of making himself into many,his opponent knew somehow which one was the real Ripper.
Throughit all, the Thunder Lord kept talking.
“Loki,I know not what is wrong. But it’s all right. I’ll help you. And thenwe’ll go home, you and I. Together. Asgard is in danger and needs usboth.”
Rippermade none of his usual taunts. He growled and snarled as he stabbedat his opponent. The crowd kept up their yells, demanding theirchampion go for the kill. Mood turning unsteady throughout the arena.They wanted this fight ended.
Apparentlyso did the Thunder Lord.
Forseveral heart-pounding moments the two combatants fought full-out.Neither gaining the upper hand. Ripper getting clumsier as he moved.His opponent seemingly trying not to harm him. Talking all the while.Ripper’s movements growing sloppier the more words were said.
Then,just as Ripper rushed his opponent, knocking him to the ground andraising one of his daggers high, there was a burst of lightning thatblinded them all.
Minutes later, whenSilar finally blinked the multicoloured daze from his eyes, he couldsee Ripper and Thunder Lord both on their backs in the dirt. Braonudged him and pointed. Silar followed his direction and saw theGrandmaster staring down at his fighters, a small device in his hand.
So, this is what I have been up to these last weeks, doodling Flower Crown Portraits of friends:
@moonwalkingcrab, @thewightknight, @angryangryowl, @courgette96, @rebelwerewolf, @cracktheglasses, @boredbyreality, @cylin-aka-ankamo and myself. The whole Hoard of Gorgeous Dudes. I am so glad to have all of you in my life! ♥
(Please open these pictures in a new tab to enjoy them in high resolution.)
Nie Huaisang spends so long trying to avoid saber practice/cultivation work in general, accidentally invents loads of magis escaping/supressing techniques. Accidentally developps a whole new school of anti cultivation methods. Accidentally becomes useful in a war effort, or incresing the Nie miltary power, or whichever you decide. It's all Da-ge's fault anyway.
“Seriously?” Nie Mingjue said, looking up at where Nie Huaisang had managed to get into a tree. “This is the extent to which you’re unwilling to train, is it?”
“I’m very serious, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said earnestly, clinging to the trunk for dear life.
“You’re stuck in the tree is what you are.”
“…possibly yes.”
“Possibly?” Nie Mingjue crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think ‘possibly’ gets da-ge to climb up there and carry you down.”
“…definitely yes. Please help?”
“How did you even get up here?” Nie Mingjue complained, shuffling up the tree with his hands and knees. He would’ve preferred to fly with Baxia, but the tree was tight against the wall and he wasn’t quite good enough at balancing on her just yet; he couldn’t risk harming Nie Huaisang if he took a tumble. “You are not strong enough to climb this tree.”
“It was an accident,” Nie Huaisang said. “It won’t happen again! I promise!”
“Yeah,” Nie Mingjue said. “Like I believe that.”
-
“I really thought I’d worked out all the kinks this time!” Nie Huaisang protested. “I swear!”
“I believe you,” Nie Mingjue said. “In the sense that I believe that’s what you thought.”
“Rude, da-ge.”
“Mm. Too rude to help you down from the tower?”
“Da-ge!”
-
“Have you ever considered – just maybe – that the amount of effort involved in using your modified transportation array to try to flee from saber training is more than what it would have been to just attend training?” Nie Mingjue asked, glaring.
“It’s the principle of the matter!”
“Well done, Huaisang. You’ve found the one situation where principle are not going to help you. Down! Now!”
“But –”
“Now!”
-
“Why do you care so much about me training the saber?” Nie Huaisang asked way back in the beginning, pressing his face into his brother’s shoulder. He felt more than heard his brother’s sigh, the inhale and slow exhale.
“It’s our tradition, Huaisang,” his brother murmured. “Our father’s, his father’s, and our ancestors before them, right up to the founder of our sect. All of them cultivated the saber, and in so doing won renown…how can we do any less?”
“You have plenty of renown for the both of us,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “What does it matter if I don’t earn any? I’ll cling to your thigh and live a happy life instead.”
“Huaisang…”
“It’s not like I don’t know all the sect principles! So what if the practical portion is a little underdeveloped –”
“There’s going to be a war,” his brother said suddenly, and Nie Huaisang fell silent. “A long and terrible war, in which many people will die. If you don’t train, if you don’t get strong, one of the ones that die could be you. That’s why I want you to train.”
Nie Huaisang frowned. That was a problem – but maybe he could solve it another way?
-
“See, the way the array works is that even if someone tries to kill me, I’ll be somewhere else!”
“So, like a transportation talisman?” Nie Mingjue said doubtfully.
“More like a transportation array,” Nie Huaisang corrected. “Talisman users have to train for years and years to get good at using the talisman, and even then they can only use it until the talisman’s gone. This array is simple and has low energy requirements.”
“Mm. So what’s the downside?”
“Ah. That.”
“Yes, that. Nothing’s free in life. What’s the downside?”
“Well, I mean, there’s…well. I haven’t quite solved the issue of – aiming.”
-
“You need to keep this array of yours a secret,” Nie Mingjue scolded. “You’re always talking about the advantage of surprise, right? Well, there won’t be a surprise if you tell everyone about it!”
“The whole point of it was to get me out of saber training,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “It didn’t do that, either, did it?”
“The amount of saber training I make you do is less than a third of what I do,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “If you’d prefer to switch –”
“This is fine!” Nie Huaisang yelped. “I just – don’t understand why it’s necessary at all, you know?”
“Let me lay out a scenario for you: someone attacks you, you activate the array, you disappear. However, due to the lack of aiming, you appear right behind the attacker. All he needs to do to gut you is turn around, and activating the array a second time will take time. What do you do?”
“…stab him first.”
“Exactly.”
-
“Do you want to learn how to use the array?” Nie Huaisang asked.
“I’m not going to stop cultivating Baxia,” Nie Mingjue said.
“I know, I know,” Nie Huaisang said. “But you could supervise me better if you knew what I was doing.”
Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes, and Nie Huaisang sighed. Looked like his latest attempt to spend more time with his brother was doomed to failure.
But then, unexpectedly, Nie Mingjue said, “Let me finish this letter and I’ll come with you.”
“You – you will?”
“Someone’s got to supervise you, don’t they? And clearly that’s going to be me.”
Nie Huaisang beamed.
-
“You saved my life,” Nie Mingjue said when he finished hugging him very enthusiastically, and Nie Huaisang stared at him. “You did!”
“Me?” Nie Huaisang said doubtfully. “But – how?”
Nie Mingjue just patted him on the back and left.
“Nie-er-gongzi,” another voice said, and Nie Huaisang turned to see a somewhat bedraggled looking Meng Yao, who smiled shakily at him. “I hear we have you to thank for your brother’s – uh – unique fighting style?”
“…me? Fighting style?”
“The one where he disappeared and appeared all over the room while attacking Wen Ruohan?”
Nie Huaisang coughed. “Oh, that. Uh, yeah. That one’s me.”
“It’s really interesting,” Meng Yao said, and his smile looked a little steadier now. “Mind teaching me?”
For the amnesia thing: NHS and Wen Chao or Wen Xu, but mainly because living in the Nightless City has taught them to not trust warriors, doctors, sect leaders, people dressed in white, people who look angry, people who value special metal objects. NHS is the only one so far who meets none of those critera
See, unlike WWX, NHS would have zero issues taking complete and utter advantage of this
on the other hand, Wen Chao waking up to a world where his father’s dead and he’s about to become the new head of the Wen sect, congrats, have fun, just ask no questions, would be - hilarious
especially since I don’t think he’d mind. probably ends up hanging out at home and doing a lot of nothing, which is about all the cultivation world wants from him
Olay, But JYL/NHS/JZX never crosses my mind before your reply, but now I need it like 20k of it. The softness! The kink! JZX and JYL are too gentle, too honorable for Koi tower but NHS sure as hell isn t! Jin Ling has a mommy and daddy and NHS! You have opened my eyes and taken me out of the cave!
It would be fascinating, would it? One wonders how JZX fits in to their whole thing
NHS is definitely the frivolous boyfriend that whispers deadly plots into his significant others’ ears, though
I love your latest fill, and I love that time travelling, burdened with knowledge, moved by a higher purpose! LXC gets completely outmaneuvered by NHS who wasn't even putting an effort until halfway through. (Your NHS is the best, btw!)
Thank you! And that is a very good description of what happened XD poor LXC. he tried!
