I may or may not have to restart some parts of this from scratch. But here’s WeiLan in an LTNS!AU because I can’t deny @andwebegin or @earthpodd anything and so now I’m writing this AU because I just want to be loved damn it.
And I like a challenge, like the sucker that I am.
Black Cloak dabbed the blood off his face, a delicate motion compared to the slashes and cuts that riddled the bodies in front of him. Next to him, Ghost Face smiled.
“Why gege, that was your best work yet, wouldn’t you say?”
Black Cloak turned to look at Ghost Face. “Don’t tell me you’re getting complacent, didi.” Black Cloak wiped the blood off his sword next. “You planned this, didn’t you? These guys are small fry, haven’t even dared to step on your turf yet.”
“And what will you do if I say I did?”
Black Cloak threw the bloodied handkerchief at Ghost Face, who snatched it out of the air before it stained his suit. “I would say you should have gotten me a more challenging fight.”
Ghost Face grinned. “Well, maybe you’d like to hear what I’ve been hearing… “ Black Cloak raised an eyebrow. “There’s word you have competition, gege. Someone calling himself Kunlun.”
Black Cloak rolled his eyes. “As if he could ever out do me. All these new young upstarts think so.”
“But, have they managed to fight Lao Chu’s gang to a standstill?”
Black Cloak came to a stop as they walked out of the alleyway. “Lao Chu? To a standstill?”
“He walked away. Even after threatening Xiao Guo.”
Everyone knew Xiao Guo was Lao Chu’s current toy. If Kunlun managed to get that close and walk away… Black Cloak felt shivers up and down his spine. “So what’s up with Kunlun and Lao Chu now, didi?”
Ghost Face smiled. “Well… I hear Lao Chu is offering a handsome reward to anyone who brings him Kunlun’s head.”
—–
Kunlun turned out to be much trickier to track down than Black Cloak had thought. For a man accumulating a reputation, news about Kunlun was hard to come by. It gave Black Cloak an itch he yearned to scratch and it would only be done by a good fight.
And finally, after a week of searching, Black Cloak had done it. Kunlun, with his dark brown leather jacket, forest green scarf, beaten up combat boots, and bamboo staff, alone, on Ghost Face turf. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
Except it was a disaster.
Black Cloak snarled as he swung with his sword, but the distance Kunlun managed to keep with his staff could not be crossed.
“Is this the best the Black Cloak can do?” Kunlun asked. It was almost mocking if it weren’t so deadpan. “Maybe you weren’t worth my time after all.”
Black Cloak feinted high with his sword, but swung from below with his fist and landed his first real blow on Kunlun and pulled away his scarf. A handsome face with roguish facial hair and challenging eyes was revealed. Black Cloak wasn’t sure if the skip he felt in his heart beat was from the sight or the thrill of landing a blow.
Kunlun only rotated his neck. “Alright. Maybe you are worth it.”
The rest of the fight was a blur of adrenaline that left Black Cloak bruised and bloody, but Kunlun wasn’t much better off. Both managed to hobble off to fight another day, but Black Cloak considered it a loss. It was humiliating.
—–
The next fight against Kunlun was during a raid. Ghost Face, despite Black Cloak’s insistence, decided it was a good idea to rob the Snake Tribe. Kunlun had shown up as hired muscle. Tied up in his fight, Black Cloak had been unable to assist with anything else. They lost more than they gained that night.
The third time, Black Cloak had found Kunlun’s safe house. Before he made it far, he found a gun pressed to his head by a sleepy and angry Kunlun. Thus chased off, Black Cloak went back a the next day to confirm his suspicions. The safe house was empty.
Ghost Face found Black Cloak’s failures hilarious.
“God, gege, you should see your face! You can’t even beat this guy once!”
Black Cloak threw a dagger at Ghost Face who caught it and used it to pick at his teeth. “God, he’s so infuriating.”
“Maybe you need to rethink your strategy.”
“Maybe you need to die in a fire. When was the last time you fought anyone?”
This blogger remembers when we had to put disclaimers at the head of our fics and pray that someone didn’t take it into their heads to sue us for what we created.
This blogger remembers brilliant artists and writers getting decades of work obliterated on LJ because someone who wanted to tell people what they were allowed to create went running to someone who wanted a profit, and told them the artists and writers had been naughty.
This blogger remembers just how hard the creators of AO3 worked to build the thing we all seem to take for granted now.
This blogger watched friends dive into the creation process so heartily and determinedly that they all but disappeared from the writing/gaming/artistic side of their fandom for YEARS while they worked to make the archive happen.
This blogger remembers the sense of giddy wonder that there would possibly be LAWYERS involved, willing to defend our right to create these works, and not leave us hanging at the mercy of corporate legal teams.
This blogger is aware that she reads between twenty to fifty books’ worth of material every year on AO3, and is never REQUIRED to pay a penny for the privilege of getting access.
This blogger is aware that she will not ever see advertisements on AO3, and that her personal data and reading preferences won’t be sold to advertisers in order to raise the money that AO3 needs to pay for the services they provide.
This blogger is aware that AO3 is, and has always been, a labor of love; by fans, for fans, and not for profiting off fans – and this is what makes it unique in the whole of the media universe.
This blogger has NEVER taken AO3 for granted, and has ALWAYS been damned glad to have access to it. Even in years when this blogger didn’t have the means to support it financially.
Same.
Also this blogger here.
“[…] AO3 is, and has always been, a labor of love; by fans, for fans, and not for profiting off fans”
“I don’t care about the price. I’m ready to die if it means he’ll be alive again.”
“Come back in three days,” she repeats. She writes the price, one of the highest she’s ever asked for, but she has no choice, and she knows Zhao Yunlan will be back in three days.
______________________________
So I wrote something sad and made myself cry, thought I’d share the pain. It’s from Zhu Hong’s pov, and Shen Wei is dead when the story begins, and the ending is ambiguous at best. Sorry y’all 😦
The tears have dried somewhat, and the words are (mostly) back.
You encapsulated so many things I love in this piece.
I fell in love with this Zhu Hong in just your first few words. I love how complex and layered she is even in a relatively short piece. I feel like I know her. I know she’s broken, but she’s also strong, uncompromising when it comes to her magic, yet kind-hearted to those who are as broken as she is. And you make me want to know more about her. What broke her? Was she cast out? Did she chose to keep away from people? Was her magic too powerful for those around her? Or did they hate that she wouldn’t compromise on her magic?
I love how you wrote her adopted family, how she loves and protects them, how they ground her.
I love her relationship with magic. You made magic a living, breathing, character and she’s…. beautiful!
And if Zhu Hong is not heartbreaking enough, you of course had to bring in the most iconic pair of star-crossed lovers. I won’t even try to describe how the way you portrayed their story and their love affected me. I’ll just quote you: “His heart was yours, completely, so it was not his to surrender anymore.” Damn! You pull no punches, do you?
So, just to thank @fkyb (no, I’m not sorry I asked), and before I crawl to bed and cry myself to sleep, here is a little something to listen to while reading her beautiful story.
“I don’t care about the price. I’m ready to die if it means he’ll be alive again.”
“Come back in three days,” she repeats. She writes the price, one of the highest she’s ever asked for, but she has no choice, and she knows Zhao Yunlan will be back in three days.
______________________________
So I wrote something sad and made myself cry, thought I’d share the pain. It’s from Zhu Hong’s pov, and Shen Wei is dead when the story begins, and the ending is ambiguous at best. Sorry y’all 😦
The Last Good Bar 
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