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sneezemonster15 · 2 years

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i can totally understand why young girls would ship SS in the early-mid 2000’s. it was so easy to self-insert. take me for example, i was a young child with an unrequited crush on a popular boy and a total loser. i projected hard. she started getting on my nerves really quick tho. by the time i figured out how to watch shippuden (it was only available online in my country) i could no longer stand her. i know many people grew out of that ship as they matured themselves and realized just how bad it was, but i seriously don’t understand how so many of the og fans are still around, reveling in scraps given to them only in the form of non-canon material. it’s so embarrassing. and knowing that so many grown ass women cling to that nasty ship as if their lives depend on it makes me squirm in discomfort.

Wait I am confused. This person was a boy or a girl?

I think I understand. I know for a fact that there are many SNS fans who once were SS shippers. But they grew up and took responsibility for how they consumed media, which happens when a certain amount of self awareness sinks in..with time and experience..internally processing data received from the external world, which as a result, sharpens your intuition. Which then directly affects how you view and then process further external data. Data gathered from real life and media.

I suspect that many SS/NH shippers who are insanely delusional about their ship are simply operating on emotions. Think about the kind of arguments they give others. They know what constitutes canon, what doesn't. They know SNS is legit, it's all fucking there. They know SS is bullshit, they know Kishi mocks Sakura and SS like no one's business (like honestly, who's asking him to do it? Really what obligation is he under? This otherwise humble, quietly intelligent, kinda goofy, a bit childlike and deeply introspective at the same time, and frankly kinda mousy man, says such blatantly snarky and downright insulting shit about his own characters as if he ain't the author who is freaking writing them that way in the first place. Lol, no really, Kishi is a bundle of contradictions himself.) Lol.

But coming back, I really do struggle sometimes to find the right tone to talk about SS stans or address them. I suspect internet and anonymity gives them a free rein to exercise fulfilment of desires indiscriminately. They can behave however they want, believe whatever makes them happy and no one gets to destroy that as long as they are fulfilled. Numbers help. Stans give and receive validation from their peers. Whatever external validation they need to keep believing in SS ship, despite everything that negates it in canon, they get from others in their ship and they give validation to them in return. A sense of community builds. There's strength in numbers. And so dogmas and headcanons acquire a semblance of truth for them, through this very effective echo chamber, it fortifies their wacky theories and headcanons and they sheath themselves deliberately from reason, or anything that threatens to question their beliefs/belief systems that serve the object of their self comfort, desire, fulfilment. Their beliefs are really emotional in nature, you can't fight emotions, and internet gives them a platform to experience those emotions. Age doesn't matter if one isn't self aware. Lots of old people are shitty. Of course, I don't support enabling it but I guess I understand it a bit. Because I also get emotional here. I feel much more free to experience my raw emotions without trying to camouflage it too much. I reasoned with myself soon after joining this fandom, my first fandom, that here, I was a fan first, so I shouldn't judge myself too harshly for my opinions and understanding. A lot of which is way more emphatic compared to how much I would let it show it IRL. Media, stories and art have that effect on people.

And I feel conflicted sometimes. But well, the same reason exculpates me as well. I can be emotional and talk about them freely because this is a fandom and we are all here because of the same story that affected all of us. The only difference is we are insecure about different things. Lol.

Which is why I make it a point to not interact with them, because I know I would lose my patience with them much sooner than I with other people I don't generally agree with.

I understand why women do it. Even if I cannot relate with Sakura. So I vent on this platform while not actively engaging them.

But at the end of day, I feel everyone should expect so much more from themselves because more than anything else, Sakura's and Hinata's characters by design are so limited. Like I know it's all tied up with their self esteem, or its lack thereof, but at least don't glorify something that makes you this limited and miserable. Don't tell me it's better than everything else and is the best thing in the world because it is not. It is so small, So cheap. Such a piddling thing, so reductive and limiting and humiliating. Why project on those two? You should expect so much better from yourself. Like why can't you dream bigger at least in your imagination? Where you can have everything or anything you want, and nothing gives you a better opportunity to do that than media, but you choose the most limiting of all things and characters? Isn't it suffocating and painful? Well, in any case, just don't glorify it, turning a blind eye to facts and then gaslight me for my stuff. That's not acceptable. Even if I know where you are coming from, don't justify it. It gives the wrong impression to others, especially other women, who have enough odds stacked against them already for you to jump in on the bandwagon too, and being women yourselves no less, it's humiliating for both of us.

They use their emotions as a free ticket to say and do things indiscriminately, without thought and honesty. Cultivating emotions (and sharing them) should enrich you and help you grow, not make you regress even more.

#well that went on.....#lol #no but i have thought about it and it bothers me #i dont want to be uncharitable but credit where credit is due i guess #naruto #anti ss #anti sakura #anti hinata #ask

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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This one's gonna take two asks, I'm incapable of making it more succinct. In Accurate description NHS said "I’m taking you back with me to the Nie sect when all this is over. If your parents want you back, they can come ask nicely.” Could we get that AU? And the Jiangs HAVE to ask nicely, because with the war on the horizon they can't risk alienating the Nies, but they are so bad at it? NHS's half assed plan to poach JC gets more and more solid the longer he has to watch this train wreck.(1/2)

How hard can it be to love your own flesh and blood? Even NMJ has stopped admonishing him for wanting to poach another sect's heir. What a political nightmare that would be. But JC is so relaxed with NHS's birds? And keeping up longer and longer when training with da-ge? And smiling more? And JYL said, she's never seen him so loose in the shoulders? NHS can make this work. JFM and YZY never valued JC anyway

Part 2 of Accurate Description (necessary to read that first)

“Absolutely not,” was the first thing Nie Huaisang’s brother said when Nie Huaisang first raised the idea of kidnapping Jiang Cheng for his own good. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Nie sect principle three,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Well, shit,” his brother said.

This was because Nie Huaisang’s brother is the best.

“I’ve gotten other people involved in this,” Nie Huaisang added helpfully.

“You’d better have,” his brother said. “I am not dealing with the fallout from this on my own.”

Nie Huaisang nodded happily. That was about what he’d expected.

A few moments later, his brother asked, “Why are we kidnapping him, anyway?”

“This is temporary,” Nie Mingjue said gruffly.

“Very temporary,” Jiang Cheng agreed, sounding stiff and awkward. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“You know exactly why you’re here,” Nie Huaisang objected. “I told you why!”

Jiang Cheng gave him a dirty look.

“Also I have no idea how da-ge got you here, but you’re staying,” Nie Huaisang said firmly. “For as long as it takes for your parents to show that they deserve you returning to them. You’re not getting a choice.”

Jiang Cheng’s face was turning red.

“That’s not the deal, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue interjected. “Jiang Wanyin can return home at any time he wishes.”

Nie Huaisang glared, but his brother ignored him.

“He can also stay as long as he wishes,” he said, and this time it was Jiang Cheng’s turn to stare. “If you want others to respect him, you must first pay him the respect he deserves yourself. Now, I have to go, but Jiang Wanyin – know that our home is always open to you.”

He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, then ruffled Nie Huaisang’s hair, and left.

Jiang Cheng looked dazed.

Nie Huaisang smirked.

“…you said something about him giving out hugs?”

“Oh yeah,” Nie Huaisang said. “Great hugs.”

“I can’t believe you would betray me like this,” Nie Huaisang whined. “And after all I’ve done for you!”

“A little training’s not going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng said. “Come on already.”

“My brother put you up to this, didn’t he? You sold me out for a hug.”

“I sold you out for the opportunity to go on a proper night-hunt,” Jiang Cheng said. “Also, he said he was proud of the progress I’ve been making on my cultivation and sword training since I got here. And gave me a hug.”

Nie Huaisang grumbled but conceded that his brother was especially difficult to resist when he was in full big brother mode. If he wasn’t, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have been nearly so willing to give up the neat new sword he’d found in the Xuanwu’s cave and store it down in their saber halls until his brother and Baxia could figure out how to suppress it - he hadn’t even realized it was full of resentful energy at first, and he still thought it was especially aesthetic.

“Besides, if you don’t practice something soon, he’ll come after you himself,” Jiang Cheng said. “Wouldn’t you rather train with me?”

“No. You’re just as crazy as he is.”

Jiang Cheng looked disturbingly complimented.

“I’ll come look at your birds later,” he offered.

“You’d do that anyway,” Nie Huaisang said. “You love my birds.”

Jiang Cheng did, too. Nearly as much as he loved all the feral cats that roamed the walls of the Unclean Realm, every single one of which seemed to have immediately pegged him as a soft touch and come nosing around for treats – Nie Huaisang had never seen Jiang Cheng look so calm and peaceful as when he had a cat under his palm.

It really put into perspective how stressed he looked the rest of the time.

“Oh, all right,” he groaned, and Jiang Cheng beamed. “Just know that I hate you.”

“Same to you, Nie-gongzi,” Jiang Cheng said, completely insincere. “Same to you.”

“You know, I’m surprised my parents haven’t shown up to demand me back yet,” Jiang Cheng said over lunch one day. “It’s not – it’s not a problem. It’s only – I thought – Mother at least –”

“Oh, they’re demanding all right,” Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“…Nie Huaisang, what have you done,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Conspired, that’s what,” Nie Mingjue said. “I don’t know if I should thank you for discovering my brother’s sole talent, namely for scheming and conspiracies, or to blame you for it, Wanyin – but you do have very loyal friends.”

Jiang Cheng blinked.

“Well, first your parents went to Lanling,” Nie Huaisang explained. “On account of Jin Zixuan and Mianmian very obviously sneaking food around and buying all sorts of things that you would like before smuggling them – very poorly and obviously, mind you – into Jinlin Tower, and of course they were also overheard talking about something that sounded an awful lot like ‘Wanyin’; everyone assumed they were hiding you. Turns out they weren’t, of course; it was just a stray dog they’d named something with similar tones. Not their fault everyone got the wrong idea!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched.

“And then, of course, they went to Gusu, on account of Lan Wangji telling everyone you were his sworn brother –”

“His what?!”

“Well, close enough. On account of how you saved his life.”

“I did not!”

“I thought I heard something about how you carried him on your back as you fled from the Xuanwu’s cave and the Wen sect’s ambushes, when he was exhausted and could not walk,” Nie Mingjue said mildly, and Jiang Cheng spluttered. “Had I heard wrongly?”

“…well, no…but...”

“Of course, you weren’t at Gusu,” Nie Huaisang continued, ignoring them both. “Though there were some heavy implications for a little while that you’d gone off with Lan-gongzi –”

“Isn’t he missing?”

Nie Mingjue coughed and looked down at his plate.

“And none of you said anything?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking between them. “At any point? Did you just, what, not talk to them?”

“I have spoken with your parents several times since they have started looking for you,” Nie Mingjue said, and his voice was suddenly hot with roiling anger. “I have concluded that Huaisang had a point regarding the necessity of their learning how to ask for your return.”

Jiang Cheng blinked.

“Your parents are jerks,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “And you deserve better.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jiang Cheng said, a little strangled. “I think I – got that.”

“Good.”

“It’s just, my jiejie –”

“Supports you being here. She sent you a care package. It’s in your room.”

“…Wei Wuxian –”

“Sent a note along with the package. Says to keep up the good work.”

“How did you even get something like that?!”

“I have my ways.”

Nie Huaisang was staring blankly at the wall when Jiang Cheng walked in and did a double take.

“Okay,” he said to Nie Mingjue, sitting patiently nearby with a letter in his hands. “You broke him. How?”

“He just discovered that he inadvertently saved a great deal of lives,” Nie Mingjue said. “As did you, by agreeing to come here.”

“I only agreed to come here because you lied and told me it was necessary to help defend my sect,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, clearly not meaning it.

Nie Huaisang let out a high-pitched and somewhat hysterical giggle.

“It was,” Nie MIngjue said solemnly, offering him the letter. “It appears that Wen Chao was given permission to attack and crush the Jiang sect, but has been delaying in anticipation of your return on account of wanting to deal with all of you at once. The delay allowed our spies time to discover his plans, and to carry warnings to your parents. They were thus able to fortify the Lotus Pier’s defenses against invasion, and to hold it off until aid could arrive – which they wouldn’t have managed if he’d attacked at once, as he would have if you’d been there.”

Jiang Cheng stared.

“Would you like to sit down and stare at the wall?” Nie Mingjue offered kindly.

“…yes please.”

“How’d you convince him to let me come here, anyway?” Jiang Cheng asked Nie Huaisang as he packed up his things. He was finally heading back to the Lotus Pier, albeit only long enough to collect soldiers and come back to join what they’d started calling the Sunshot Campaign – his parents had finally figured out where he was and sent word that had, in the view of the Nie, just barely qualified as sufficient to get some leeway.

Lan Wangji was waiting in the hallway to escort him there, and he’d sworn to Nie Huaisang that he would not allow either of Jiang Cheng’s parents to say anything untoward while they were there. He’d looked very serious while he said it, too, which pleased Nie Huaisang to no end and made Jiang Cheng look more than a bit nervous.

“You’re only asking that now?” Nie Huaisang asked, amused.

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “You going to tell me or not?”

“It was easy,” he said. “I just invoked Nie sect principle three.”

“…what’s that?”

“‘A fire burns all the same’,” Nie Huaisang said. “Variously interpreted as: ‘Treat your neighbor’s harm as your own’, ‘Do not stand idly by as your neighbor bleeds’, or ‘Indifference to evil is equivalent to evil’.”

Jiang Cheng stared.

“How about ‘if you see someone who needs you, you have an obligation to act’?”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Okay,” he said. “And?”

“And what?”

“And what else did you say? You convinced him to literally kidnap the heir of another Great Sect; I can’t believe that you accomplished that simply by saying ‘hey principle three applies here, let’s do this’.”

“Maybe I did,” Nie Huaisang sniffed.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll get them out of you one day.”

“Maybe you will,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “If I wanted to keep Jiang Cheng permanently, what principle would I have to invoke for that?”

“Nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “But, da-ge, principle nineteen is the one about marriage – oooooooh.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #accurate description #wolveshowlatnight

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silverflame2724 · 3 years

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Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere.

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking.

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

...............................

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking.

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly.

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family.

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan.

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen.

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction.

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

..................................

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means.

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible.

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life.

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face.

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world.

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes.

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods.

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down.

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint. “But.....this......how?”

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

..................................

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

..............................

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

#wei ying #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #wen qionglin #lan zhan #lan wangji #wen remnants #lan yuan #canon divergent au #wei wuxian hides the wen remnants #immortal wei wuxian #fluff #confessions #JYL and NHS and LWJ clear WWX and the Wen remnants' names #this is only happy #I hope

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N Well, here it is. The last chapter of Ginger Snap. As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out. There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so. In the meantime, thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me! This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways. The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it. Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own. To stand on my own two feet, as it were. Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February. This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time. As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying. The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air. Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass. It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed. It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed! I fucking passed!” An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster. Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan. I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.” My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare. Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not. The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely. “Ye’re gonna do great. When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.” The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands. Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season. Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms. The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple. I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home. There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home. With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process. It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately. Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi. How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother. Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice. I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not. Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian. We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic. Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.” I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly. “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams. Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal. As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands. At my left hand in particular. Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?” I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied. “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well. It was the most I could hope for, really. Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother. Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him. I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed. Says the right woman is worth the wait.” She paused before adding, “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester. It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support. For once she didn’t reply immediately. There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts. I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you. I think about you every day.” A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send. At least I hadn’t woken him up. A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist. Hello. How are you?

I tried to picture him. Was he at home? Working late? Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright. Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry. Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass. Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man. I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end. And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text. Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie. I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good. I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow. It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news! I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass. It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone in this. Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?! It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie. The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one. Not a second longer. I’m just... what if I fail?

And there it was. The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did. What if I failed? What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me. You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef. It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you. I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right. But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright. That helps. I should let you get to bed. Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire? Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat. Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze. I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass. Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken? I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area. Jenny was on the phone. She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in. I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting. I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk. I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves. Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber. He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet? There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it. I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me. Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me. My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils. You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.” More sigh than word. He slowly turned. It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him. It was still there, after all these months. That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began. “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor. This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued. “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am. How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed. This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another. Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret. Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods. My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart. Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There. It was said. A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free. Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist. Come, set my life on fire.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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scarletjedi · 3 years

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untitled Untamed time travel au but make it Mingcheng PART 2A

@piyo-13

Part 1: The Setup

Part 2A: GUSU REVISITED (part 1)

EDIT: Part 2B now up!

y'all...I tried to do one part, but this notefic is quickly becoming fic, and I need to keep it small enough to fit on tumblr, lol. The second half of this should be up in the next day or two!

Okay, the next day they arrive in Gusu, have the run in with Zixuan, which....almost goes the same? Zixuan still buys out the inn, but WWX saw this dude, who made Yanli happy, die (and while JC says it wasn’t him, he still feels that guilt) and JC looks at him and sees Jin Ling’s father, and they just... leave. Do not engage. Perhaps with a look at each other like - we need him to see her for herself, but we don’t want to put her through the pain of losing him.

...okay, JC can’t leave without saying something along the lines of “we’re in Gusu to learn, but also to form alliances. Open your damn eyes, and you might actually make a friend” - Zixuan is shook, but Mianmian looks at JC assessingly. I am here for “isolated and therefore socially awkward Zixuan” and I think it’d be hilarious if he takes this as a sign that JC wants to be friends. So, he will kind of randomly show up where JC is, like a cat trying to signal that they’re friends by mirroring you? Luckily, JC speaks “stray animal” and eventually figures out that Zixuan isn’t trying to spy on him but trying to make friends. It eventually leads to a conversation where JC turns to him and just asks “Why don’t you like my sister?” ...but i’ll get to that.

So, they leave, and this time they double check that WWX has the invitation. He does, but they’re still delayed just a bit going up the mountain, so when they reach the top, Lan Wangji is waiting.

The party stops when they see him, mostly because it looks like he’s barring entry, but JC sees the way LWJ looks at WWX and *knows* that somehow, LWJ is back too.

Now, in The Untamed canon (which we’re in) I fully believe that WWX was in love with (and knew it) LWJ before he died, but either felt that his love was not returned, or that LWJ’s love would end if he knew, the time was never right, etc - so, he’s looking at this like and opportunity to present the side of himself that he thinks LWJ wants.

Meanwhile LWJ is like “THERE IS MY GREMLIN ALIVE AND WELL. THIS TIME I WILL LOVE HIM AND STAND WITH HIM NO MATTER WHAT.”

But when JC announces themselves and WWX pulls out the invitation, LWJ says “Wei Ying” in that WAY of his and WWX freezes because a) he realizes that LWJ is also back b) this doesn’t fit into his plan and c) stall. So he does that awkward laugh, flicking his nose, like “Ahaha, Lan Zhan. It’s me.”

And LWJ *SMILES* “It is good to see Wei Ying.”

And WWX *melts* because he is weak, and JC is like “kill me now” (JYL is confused but thinks its sweet) and everyone else is just *confused*.

Not taking his eyes off WWX, LWJ gestures for Yunmeng Jiang to follow him, and leads them (well, WWX and by proxy everyone else) to the student dorms where they will be staying. (WWX walks next to LWJ, and there is something about the way they fit together that makes JC *feel things* all over again, because here was one more thing WWX lost because of *him* and—

When they arrive at the dorms, the other disciples and Yanli all retire, but JC stays because if LWJ is back then they need to talk before JC leaves those two to “count each others eyelashes or whatever they do when they’re alone together” and the absolute bitchy-ass angry *look* that LWJ sends him has JC standing taller and WWX stepping between them.

“Ayia, Lan Zhan, there’s no need for that. Jiang Cheng and I talked it out. We’re good.”

Lan Zhan looks over at WWX, softening for a moment, before bringing the heat back for JC. “He killed you.”

“You-!” JC clenches his fist, and is thrown because there *aren’t* sparks because Zidian is on his *mother’s* wrist, and it’s enough to make him settle, enough for WWX to step in again and say:

“That fall wouldn’t have killed me if— If I hadn’t lied to him, then Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have had every reason to believe I would survive that fall.”

*That* causes a reaction, a widening of his eyes that would be subtle on any other face, at the implication that Jiang Cheng hadn’t been trying to kill him. But, it doesn’t make the frown disappear. “He did not stand with you.”

“Neither did you!” Jiang Cheng snaps, going for the *jugular* without even realizing, and LWJ just fucking *wilts*

“That...is my regret.”

But before he could say anything else, WWX spoke again.

“Look, there’s no reason to rehash the past. I’m alive! And I know what I need to do to not be bad again, but I would really appreciate it if my brother and my soulmate” and didn’t THAT cause JC’s eyebrows to rise “didn’t hate each other.” Suddenly, several things about the last few years made a lot more sense.

“I don’t hate him,” Jiang Cheng said, as Lan Wangji said “Wei Ying is always good.”

When *that* caused the three of them to stare at each other again, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Look, we need to talk soon about this whole time travel... thing, but I want nothing to do with whatever this” and gestures between them “is. So, I’m going to bed because I have been awake for two days straight and I would like to sleep. Figure it out!” and Jiang Cheng turned and went to find his bedroom (which he shared with WWX. Considering the way they were looking at each other, JC was pretty sure he’d be spending the first night without a roommate. Again).

MEANWHILE, outside, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are left staring at each other. (Well, WWX stares after JC for a minute, mouth open, but that fades quickly when he sees Lan Zhan staring at him, all intent.)

Wei Ying would normally begin to fidget, but he’s transfixed, heart in his throat, without a clue as to what to do next and—

“A-Yuan.” Lan Zhan said, and Wei Ying’s focus sharpens.

“A-Yuan?!”

Lan Zhan nodded. “I found him, after. He was sick. I brought him here, gave him the name Lan to hide him.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, but fell silent.

Wei Ying was staring with shining eyes. “He lived? My little radish...” he trailed off, staring into the distance. He frowned, shaking his head. “But Lan Zhan, why would you—”

“I should have been there,” Lan Zhan interrupts *interrupts* angrier than he had ever sounded, but even Wei Ying can tell that it’s not directed at him. He cools quickly. “I will not make the same mistake.”

He catches Lan Zhan’s eye again and falls silent. “Oh.”

And Lan Zhan steps back, like he hadn’t intended to let that slip. “If Wei Ying does not feel the same—”

“I do!” Wei Ying bursts out, stepping forward and reaching out, not quite touching. “I do. Feel the same,” he said, quieter this time, for the two of them. Lan Zhan’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts and Wei Ying knows him well enough to know it as *joy*

And, Lan Zhan reaches out and takes his hand.

(Yes, they use the next several months to actually talk though their relationship, but this is effectively a speed run from the way they feel in Episode 1 to the steps of jinlintai, bypassing all the *plot* that gets in the way of their romance, but whatever, it’s my fic. If this was a wangxian fic first, then I might do the “WWX needs to get a clue” thing he has going in the book, but.... Honestly, I *adore* the idea of *gremlin couple wangxian* on what is essentially their honeymoon in gusu. Like - pre-sunshot Gusu is not *prepared* for post-Yiling Laozu LWJ.)

The next morning, JC arrives to classes with the rest of the Jiangs, not at all surprised to see Wei Ying standing with LWJ (though everyone else seems to be weirded out by it, which may be because they’re standing far too close). LWJ nods at JC, who nods back, grimly pleased to see that there was no longer an open front of hostility. JC wasn’t foolish enough to think it was gone completely, but at least they should be able to discuss business when necessary. (And some part of his mind absolutely began planning the wedding. WWX was Yunmeng Jiang, and if JC had anything to say about it, he would REMAIN YMJ until he was damn sure to remember that he can’t get rid of Jiang Cheng that easily... and JC would be DAMNED if he let Lan Xichen steamroll the wedding prep, which he absolutely would, hopeless romantic that he was).

They enter and settle into their usual spots, though LWJ hesitates when he realizes that his seat would not let him watch WWX. JC continues on to sit in his old seat, determined to see *as little of this as possible* and turns to look at Nie Huaisang, who—

Oh, sonofabitch, Nie Huaisang was back too. How the fuck did their ritual have enough power to drag *four souls* back in time, especially one from *wherever the hell WWX was* JC widened his eyes at him, clearly saying *WTF* which had Nie Huaisang giving him a *look* from behind his fan, which fluttered, agitated. JC rolled his eyes, cutting them over to WWX, who was blatantly staring at Lan Wangji, chin propped on his palm. (And if LWJ had his head tilted so he could look back, well, *most* of the class probably couldn’t tell). Incredible. Jiang Cheng turned to look at JYL, who was hiding a smile behind her sleeve, when movement behind NHS caught his eye.

Meng Yao. Oh, that wasn’t awkward at all. Nie Huaisang flicked the corner of his fan, and JC turned back aground, knowing they would talk later, and then they were all standing as Lan Qiren walked into the room.

Which was when it dawned on Jiang Cheng that he would have to take these classes again. Judging by the soft whimper behind him, Nie Huaisang realized it, too.

The class runs the same, as clear as Jiang Cheng can remember, even if the recitation of the rules seems occasionally pointed at Lan Wangji, which is odd. He doesn’t dwell on it, however. He’s gotten good at looking like he was paying attention while thinking of other things, and Jiang Cheng had a lot to think about.

~*~

Like before, WWX invites NHS to go fishing (and JC isn’t sure if he realizes that NHS has also come back yet - in fact, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t), only this time, JC agrees to go with them and WWX pulls LWJ along, leading the group far enough ahead that JC and NHS end up waking behind. NHS keeps up with looked wide-eyed and confused until they leave the main areas for the backwoods.

“So,” Jiang Cheng starts. “Something went wrong.”

“Obviously,” Nie Huaisang hisses, snapping his fan closed. “I woke up in the same room as him.”

JC winces, because yeah, awkward. “I’m a little surprised he’s still alive, actually.”

NHS’s jaw clenched, and JC was reminded very strongly of NMJ. “No one would support flat out murder, even if they don’t really care about the victim.”

“And it’s messy,” JC offered, dry. NHS looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“It’s so hard to get blood out of white fabric,” he agreed and JC laughed.

THAT gets WWX to spin around. “You laughed!” he accuses, pointing a finger at JC.

“So?”

“So I haven’t heard you laugh in years, Jiang Cheng!” he pouts. “Why do you laugh at his jokes and not mine.”

“You are an *actual child*--”

Then, of course, NHS gasps, his fan falling from his hand. JC, catches it, reflexively, startled at the horror he sees on NHS’s face as the show drops. “Wei-xiong, you— but you—”

WWX laughs awkwardly. “No need to worry, I’m —” probably going to say something about not being evil anymore, or not following the demonic path, but NHS cuts him off.

“Back from the dead!?”

Which is when JC remembers that they used Baxia in the ritual, and if his core was enough to bring back WWX, then maybe...

“Da-ge!”

MEANWHILE, in Qinghe, Nie Mingjue wakes up, which is odd, considering the last thing he remembered was dying. Perhaps he didn’t die? Unless the doctors had some new pain medications, he didn’t feel as if he had just had a near-fatal qi-deviation.

Tentatively, he opens his eyes and sees...his bedroom ceiling. How long was he sleeping that they brought him from Lanling to Qinghe? His door opens and he’s reaching for Baxia before he can think — and stops when he recognizes Nie Zonghui (though not before Zonghui notices the aborted movement). “Sect Leader....troubled night?”

Nie Mingjue snorts. “That’s one way to put it.” There’s something rattling around the back of his mind, some detail that doesn’t quite add up as Nie Zonghui helps get him ready for the day. It’s not just that Zonghui doesn’t seem surprised (or relieved) to see him up and awake, it’s the names that Zonghui mentions in is reports — names of disciples who are, like Zonghui himself, long dead.

It’s when Zonghui mentions that a messenger bird had arrived from Gusu that morning, carrying word that Huaisang had arrived safely and that Meng Yao would be leaving tomorrow to return to his duties that the other shoe dropped.

“Zonghui, there’s something I forgot to tell Huaisang. I need to send him a message, the faster the better.”

Zonghui gave a short bow. “Consider it done.”

BACK IN GUSU

Nie Huaisang was pacing atop a long, flat rock on the river’s edge. It wasn’t a very long boulder, maybe 5 or 6 steps at most, but it was dry so Jiang Cheng wasn’t too worried about him slipping. Besides, Lan Wangji was sitting only a few stones away, playing a soft melody on his guqin.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were both in the stream, robes and pants hiked up to keep them from getting too wet, as they waited to catch their dinner. Jiang Cheng remembered getting upset about WWX fishing their second night there, blatantly flaunting the “no killing” rule, but if LWJ felt like indulging his soulmate, what the fuck, then who was Jiang Cheng to complain.

On the rock, Huaisang was plotting out loud, starting ideas and rejecting them just as quickly. “You know, if you put this much effort into your studies this time, you might not have to come back again,” JC called over. Nie Huaisand didn’t even break his stride, just flapped his fan irritably in Jiang Cheng’s direction.

WWX darted forward, pulling a wriggling fish into the air in triumph. “Jiang Cheng, catch!” He tossed the fish, and Jiang Cheng caught it with ease. He considered, for a moment, throwing it at Nie Huaisang, but he was getting hungry. He tossed the fish into the bank, where it wouldn’t flop back into the water. Lan Wangji side-eyed it, warily.

“You know, he’s not actually done anything wrong yet,” Wei Wuxian said. “Can you really hold him accountable for actions he hasn’t taken?”

That made Huaisang stop. “To a certain extent, yes, I can.” That got him a *look* from both LWJ and WWX. “Look, all the decisions we make are influenced by the lives we live. And no, as far as I can tell, Meng Yao didn’t come back with the rest of us - and I still don't’ know why you came back too, Lan Wangji,” LWJ makes a gesture that is far too elegant to be, and yet totally is, a shrug, “but so far, Meng Yao’s life is *exactly the same* as the Meng Yao who committed those acts. That means Meng Yao is the same man who WILL make those choices, barring a MAJOR shift in the way he views the world.”

“Can we cause that shift, then?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I just don’t know if ‘kill him dead’ is always the best course of action.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes narrowed, a fraction of the coldness Jiang Cheng had seen that day seeping through, before his expression cleared a bit. “It would be a touchy subject for you, yes, but Meng Yao is not Wen Ning.” Wei Wuxian flinched, and, surprisingly, it was Lan Wangji that spoke.

“One cannot change another’s mind,” he said, vanishing his guqin and rising to his feet, one hand behind his back. “One can only show the path; only they can choose to walk.”

“And we have the path to show him,” Wei Wuxian argued. “Don’t we have a responsibility to try, knowing the damage he can do? If we know we have the opportunity to change things and save lives, are we not bound to try? Is that not why Jiang Cheng was sent back in the first place?”

“I’m fine with killing him,” Jiang Cheng said. “He deliberately uses his own weakness to learn the vulnerabilities of others, and then uses that as leverage to get what he wants and then discard them once his objective has been met. He uses Jin Zixuan’s better nature against him. He used Mingjue’s sense of fair play against him and then used his biggest fear to kill him, and he used Zewu-jun’s kindness as a shield.” He looked up at Nie Huaisang. “Though, if you’re right and he’s back too, Meng Yao might not live long enough for us to do anything about it.”

“Oh no,” Huaisang said, voice dryer than dust. “What a tragedy.”

“His information was key in winning the war,” Lan Wangji said. “Can we win against the Wens again without him?”

“Hey, yeah,” Wei Wuxian added. “Speaking of - am I going to have to...” he trailed off, miming playing a dizi.

“You better not!” Jiang Cheng snapped. Wei Wuxian looked at him in surprise, then smiled sadly.

“No, you said not to, and I won’t refuse a direct order from my sect leader,” he said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I know how.”

“Meng Yao wasn’t actually that good a spy,” Nie Huaisang said, a faint frown between his brows that Jiang Cheng didn’t trust at all. It meant he had noticed something and was putting pieces together that Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure he wanted known. “More than once his information was either wrong or outdated. A lot of the correspondence was kept for our records, and I went back to check once I had my suspicions about him.”

“You think he was playing both sides?” Jiang Cheng asked. Nie Huaisang fluttered his fan and didn’t disagree.

Between them, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian caught more than enough fish to feed Huaisang as well, and he and Lan Wangji were both invited back to the Yunmeng dorms to eat with them and their sister. Yanli was surprised, of course, but rolled with it well enough. Luckily, she had chosen to make a soup that was in line with Gusu Lan’s dietary restrictions, so Lan Wangji was able to join them. WWX and JC exchanged smug looks when Lan Wangji blinked down at his soup in surprise, and began to eat more quickly.

Later that night, while WWX was walking LWJ back to his rooms, Yanli poked her head into JC’s room. “Second Young Master Lan seems to have taken quite a liking to A-Xian,” she said.

JC nodded, because that was certainly one way to put it.

“Which makes sense, A-Xian can be very charming,” she continued. “But from what the other female disciples tell me, Second Young Master Lan is ...” he paused, and Jiang Cheng filled in:

“A giant stick in the mud?”

“A-Cheng!” Yanli scolded, but there was laughter behind her voice. “...essentially, yes.”

Jiang Cheng sighed. He had no idea what to say here. He was never good at lies, never LIKED lies, preferring to neither confirm nor deny another’s suppositions when the need for secrecy was necessary...and he had never been able to lie to Yanli. Never wanted to. And besides, Nie Huaisang hadn’t covered this possibility with him.

“A-Jie,” he said, “There’s something I want to tell you, but it’s going to sound like a lie even though it’s the truth. I need you to hear me out, and to believe me, and I will do whatever I can to convince you that it’s real and true.”

And...he tells her. Flat out, just tells her about living the next ten years of his life - the end of her engagement, the indoctrination in Qishan, the burning of Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier, the death of their parents, losing his core, gaining his core but losing Wei Wuxian, the War, her marriage to Zixuan, A-Ling, Nightless City, Nie Mingjue, death after death after death — and Nie Huaisang, like vengeance made flesh, with a crazy, desperate plan.

“So, yeah. They’re close because they’re, like, in love or whatever.”

“Because they’ve known each other for ten years.”

“Seven,” Jiang Cheng corrected. “They only had seven.”

Yanli looks a little stunned wild-eyed. She had looked sad yet resigned when she had heard about her engagement ending, hopeful when she heard about their wedding. Her eyes had shone suspiciously when she heard about Jin Ling...a few tears falling when she heard about Qongyi pass and Nightless City.

“Do...” he began. “Do you believe me?” he asked, voice small and hating it, but he couldn’t stand it if Yanli thought he would make this up.

Slowly, she nodded her head. “It sounds...wild,” she said. “But I know my A-Cheng. He is honest, and would not make up wild stories like this. So, if A-Cheng says it, it must be true.”

“A-jie,” He said, and had to stop, his voice choked off, and when Yanli leaned in to hug him, his tears were sweet with relief.

~*~

The next complication came the next day, at the presentation ceremony, when, once again, Wen Cho showed up to interrupt Yunmeng Jiang’s gifting. It took everything in him not to punch Wen Chao in his smug face with Sandu unsheathed, and Wei Wuxian was a dark, simmering presence next to him. Somehow, the steps played out like they had before - a brief exchange lead to swords drawn, lead to Xichen stepping in and Wen Qing soothing tempers with quick words.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t prepared to see her again. Her, or Wen Ning, who was a remarkably still shadow behind her. When they left, his eyes stayed lowered towards the ground. There was nothing to make Jiang Cheng think that there was something different, except the long running knowledge that he had the worst possible luck.

WWX was strangely unwilling to approach Wen Ning first, though he clearly wanted to. Some misplaced guilt, perhaps. He still clung to LWJ’s side, which was in no way avoidant behavior, WWX, but Jiang Cheng was surprised when Wen Ning found him first.

“I knew it!” Jiang Cheng cried out, to everyone’s surprise, even Wen Ning. He gestured at Wen Ning. “WWX’s here because he’s tied to me, and Wen Ning here is tied to Wei Wuxian.”

“That still doesn’t explain Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping his fan against his cheek.

“Nothing explains Lan Wangji.”

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng, so mean!”

None of this has much of an effect on the present moment, however, save that it causes Nie Huaisang to adjust his plans *again*. “No one else has better come back!” he demanded. “All of these calculations are hard, and I am *delicate,* Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, a real wilting flower.”

Later that night, just before curfew, a missive arrived to Nie Huaisang from his brother. Huaisang walked as fast as he could manage from the Nie Quarters to the Jiang, bursting into Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian’s room, holding the letter aloft, speaking as soon as he’s through the door: “It’s him! He’s alive! Da-ge’s back!”

Huaisang slammed the letter on the table, reaching for the nearby inkbrush, quickly grinding some ink to circle letters on the page. There, written in an otherwise standard letter reminding Huaisang to mind his studies and practice his saber, was the phrase: Do Not Trust Meng Yao.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#mingcheng #the untamed #mincheng notefic #my fic

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xmr-deity · 4 years

Text

You Get Used To It

Pairing: Zuko X Male!Waterbender!Reader (Katara and Sokka’s brother)

Words: 1,249

Universe: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Requested by: @satanisanartist

Warnings: Smut

(Y/n) = Your Name

It had been a rough several months, to say the least.

For (Y/n), being Katara and Sokka’s older brother, it was incredibly stressful. Even though Katara had basically taken over the motherly role for the two boys, the lack of self preservation skills the two kids had was IMMENSE. Running off to save the avatar was one thing, but helping them go kick THE FIRE LORD’s butt?? That for sure was another.

(Y/n) never regretted coming along, though. The adventures they had and the sights they saw were all worth the hardships. By the time the failed invasion was over, they’d all grown so close, they were all like a family now.

But what (Y/n) absolutely wasn’t expecting was the:

“Hello, Zuko here!”

He nearly sent the fire prince tumbling right off that cliff with a blast of water, and he could tell Katara almost did too. But as they all reluctantly agreed that Aang had no other options for fire bending teachers.. they slowly came to accept him. But (y/n).. he did that quicker than the rest. Maybe too quick, for all they’d been through, but one night he’d cornered the banished prince. Well. Not literally.

They were the only ones left by the dimming fire pit. Zuko didn’t bother to relight it. They should be getting to bed soon anyway, they had a long day of traveling ahead of them..

But (Y/n).. he managed to crack him open. He managed to unlock Zuko’s backstory and suddenly everything made complete sense. No wonder Zuko acted the way he did and did the things he did. That didn’t excuse the bad things, but.. they made sense now. And (Y/n) realized he was genuinely trying to make it up and make a change. And he also realized how hard that must be for Zuko.

(Y/n) didn’t even realize it, but immediately he became a support system for Zuko. At first he treated him like one of his siblings- making sure he ate and slept and drank water but.. he realized Zuko needed more than just that. So before they knew what was happening, they were getting closer.

When Zuko kissed him, it didn’t come as a shock. In fact, (Y/n) had been thinking about it for a while. The light of the sunset shone on them through the tent they hid behind, holding each other impossibly close.

One day, while (Y/n) was practicing water bending alone, Zuko found him after a frustrating training session with Aang. Aang was a quick learner and a dutiful student, (Y/n) knew that much from helping Katara teach him, but sometimes the airbender was, well, an airhead, and it didn’t help that Zuko had trouble expressing his thoughts- the poor avatar just couldn’t understand what Zuko was trying to say.

So, (Y/n) held his hand, helping him wade through the water of the shallow river till they reached the waterfall, (y/n) bending the water so they could walk through without getting drenched.

They talked a little in solitude in the cave behind the waterfall, but soon Zuko was cupping his cheek and pulling him close, kissing him so softly and lovingly it should be illegal. (Y/n) wrapped his arms around Zuko’s neck, fingers tangling into his fluffy, black hair. (Y/n) knew, of course, that this was Zuko’s preferred method of relieving stress, and (Y/n) had no complaints.

Soon (Y/n) was pressed down against the cold, damp stone, calloused fingers sliding beneath his shirt, caressing up his torso, feeling his pecs and lovingly sliding a thumb over his nipple, reveling in the way (Y/n) flinched ever so slightly at the stimulation. The waterbender copied him, sliding the firebender’s shirt up until he was able to slide it off all the way. (Y/n)’s shirt soon followed, getting tossed away and probably ending up in some puddle.

Zuko kissed him again, this time trailing the kisses down his jaw and neck, down to his collarbone, and finally down to his nipple. He gave it a small kiss before catching (Y/n) by surprise, biting it gently. He looked up as he heard the noise (Y/n) let out, watching the blush spread across his cheeks. Zuko didn’t hesitate to use his hand to slide a finger over his other nipple, rolling it and pinching it as he sucked and licked on the other one.

“Zu.. Zuko.. you’re.. teasing..” (Y/n) said softly, barely resisting the urge to cover his mouth.

“Sorry, you’re just fun to tease..” Zuko responded just as softly, leaning up to kiss him once more, his knee making it’s way between the water tribe boy’s legs. (Y/n) gasped softly against Zuko’s lips as he felt a thigh pressing against his still clothed member. He managed to press his own knee up, returning the favor, and unable to help the smile on his lips as he felt Zuko groan softly.

They stayed like that for a while, exchanging soft kisses as they pressed into each other, their hips starting to rock and their breathing picking up. Eventually they were just rocking each other’s hips together, hard-on to hard-on. Finally Zuko couldn’t take it anymore, reaching between them and pulling them both out of each other’s pants.

“Anh.. Zuko..”

The soft moan only encouraged the banished prince, taking their members in hand and starting to stroke.

“(Y/n)...” Zuko panted the other male’s name, their hips rocking into Zuko’s hand faster and faster. (Y/n) reached a hand up again, fingers tangling into Zuko’s soft locks, looking up into golden eyes.

“Hnn.. nh- Zuko..”

“Ah.. hn.. (Y/n)...”

They were both getting close, kissing sloppily as Zuko’s hand moved.

“(Y/n)-?” The sounds of the rushing water was interrupted as Katara bent it away. Zuko and (Y/n) abruptly stopped, looking over to find Katara and Sokka standing there, shocked.

“Are you...” Katara began. Sokka rubbed at his eyes, then turned and ran away.

“SUKI HELP ME CLEAN OUT MY EYES..” he cried, voice getting quieter as he got further away.

“Um.. Aang.. needs more help training.. ok, I’ll just..” Katara stopped bending the water, leaving the waterfall.

There was a muffled ‘I told you it was a bad idea..!’ From Toph on the other side.

Zuko groaned, resting his head on (Y/n)’s chest, blushing as the waterbender started laughing.

“Well.. I guess we don’t have to keep us a secret from them anymore..!” He said, and Zuko just groaned louder.

(Y/n) sat up a little, extending his arm as a wall of ice formed behind the waterfall.

“There, we won’t be getting interrupted again.. so...”

Zuko kissed him again passionately, the mood soon reigniting. Their hips rocked against each other, and Zuko’s hand wrapped around them both again, stroking even faster than he had before. Neither of them lasted much longer, (Y/n)’s back arching as he bit his lip, moaning loud and long. Zuko tensed as he came soon after, their come covering their hands and (Y/n)’s chest.

They lay their, panting softly for a while, basking in the afterglow. They kissed gently a few times, before Zuko moved to lay next to (Y/n) on the cold ground, shivering at the sudden cold and wet sensation on his bare skin. (Y/n) chuckled a bit.

“You get used to it...” he said, cupping Zuko’s cheek, giving him another kiss.

#zuko #prince zuko #x male reader #zuko x male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fanfic

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wangxiandecoded · 4 years

Text

Episode 12

Previous Episode | Next Episode

(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

Even when Wen Chao asks for their swords, Wei Ying is trying desperately to make Lan Zhan look him in the eye to telepathically understand what his soulmate is feeling. Lan Zhan hates it but he has no choice but to cooperate with the enemy. He has withdrawn to himself after the multiple losses he’s faced and being a puppet at the hands of the Wens must be rattling him some more. Even if he wanted to tell Wei Ying everything that’s on his mind, he wouldn’t have been able to find the words to.

Lucky for him, Wei Ying has an inkling that his Lan Zhan has faced an inexplicable disaster and that’s why he’s behaving this way with him. He knows it doesn’t mean he should stop reaching out. His concern for him leads him to repeatedly seek Lan Zhan’s face, looking for anything that might suggest how he can alleviate his plight.

One of the perks of having Wei Wuxian as your boyfriend is that he was born ready to make a clown out of the most dastardly villains.

Wei Ying Says “Fuck You” In The Name Of Love

Wei Ying has a brilliant idea to talk to Lan Zhan or at least let him know he is not alone.

There is something powerfully impressive and quietly romantic about Wei Ying insulting the Wen clan by reciting the Lan clan’s rules to Wen Chao’s face, on the heels of the former decimating and annexing the latter. Of course Wei Ying is the first one in a room to stand up to a bully and protect the others but Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan’s hands are tied right now, even if he doesn’t know what exactly happened. But that’s okay, because Wei Ying will defend his honor and become Lan Zhan’s hands, his mouth, his everything that delivers the unmistakable “fuck you” on behalf of his family. And he does it in an act of rebellion that originates in the sanctum of love. Understandably, Lan Zhan falls more in love with him.

Wei Ying’s Plan Misfires

His happiness is short-lived, but honestly who could predict his plan would go like this?

We see that Lan Zhan does want to confide in his soulmate the pain and pressure he’s been dealing with alone the whole time, but it’s too dangerous for them to talk right now.

Wen Chao carries the same kind of smugness as a prick who’s been waiting to out a gay couple. I mean how awful do you have to be to physically abuse Wangxian for.. being Wangxian? Blatant homophobia right there.

Wei Ying has had enough of Wen Chao’s bullshit and is unafraid to clap back with his signature cheekiness.

When Wei Ying is captured, Lan Zhan blocks the whip coming his way and ends up taking a hit to his injured leg. Wei Ying then wants Wen Chao to come for him instead of Lan Zhan, and we can honestly expect nothing less from Wangxian at this point.

Lan Zhan conquers his silent grieving and mute seething to stand in defiance against Wen Chao. It is worth mentioning that his patience and tolerance can even bear the brunt of a fallen world, but cease to exist the second someone mistreats Wei Ying before his eyes. You know what they say about love being a vicious motivator. His protective stance here screams..

Lan Zhan Holds On To Wei Ying For A Short Span Of Eternity

Wen Chao sure is very curious about the nature of their relationship and unable to fathom what Wei Ying could possibly want with Lan Zhan. He’s already safe and sound with him in Qishan, so if they’re not talking about the Yin Iron, what the hell is it? This inquisition is a bit ridiculous, as if the writer specifically gave him these lines to point out to the audience that Wangxian are being soulmates in love once again.

What Lan Zhan does not say, he makes up for with the million times he reaches for Wei Ying instinctively; spontaneous skinship is one of the ways through which his love for Wei Ying finds expression. It is phenomenal that He Who Does Not Touch People firmly holds on to his lover through this whole monologue that follows.

There are few things in the world that can inspire Lan Zhan’s wrath and protection right now, and Wei Ying commands both so effortlessly. Defeated as he is, for Wei Ying, Lan Zhan is always a man of action. And this action particularly proves his willingness to send packing to hell whoever dares to come close to his lover. I wonder what would’ve happened if Wei Ying hadn’t gone to the dungeon on his own volition.

Wangxian Are Once Again Ready To Risk It All For Each Other

It would’ve been nice to see them get their alone time, but what’s one more complication on the path of true love, right?

If you thought about it, Wangxian’s universe truly conspires to bring them together sometimes. Wen Ning tells Wei Ying everything Lan Zhan wasn’t able to, and Wen Qing does everything in her power to ensure they’re both out of harm’s way. Even when our heroes aren’t able to spend time together, they are being assisted by outside forces that work to ensure their love has a future. There are always people left in the world who are rooting for Wangxian because they’re the good gays guys!

We are well aware of how deeply and madly Wei Ying loves Lan Zhan, but it is startling all the same that even when he is in physical agony, what infuriates him to the point of madness is the news of Lan Zhan being hurt and his home being burnt down. Wei Ying is also more than willing to endure his pain a while longer if it means Lan Zhan has a shot at getting better.

Wangxian at any given point of time are ready to sacrifice themselves for the other and wage a war against the entire world for wronging the love of their life. That’s what makes these soulmates more unique than most, if not all lovers in fiction. Throughout the story, their romance is subjected to a billion tests and every choice they make is bound to make the viewers cry and highlight the unfairness of the impossible stakes they go through to be with each other. This is no ordinary romance, and that’s why it is all the more fantastic they are able to survive these unthinkable odds and come out shining in the end.

Lan Zhan’s concern and affection for Wei Ying is so open that it bleeds all over our screens. It’s like he looks at the rest of the world with aloof objectivity but the minute his lover comes into his sight, his eyes can bloom only warmth and emotion. Even the vision that touches Wei Ying from afar should be gentle and reverent, fit for holding in sight something precious beyond measure. This can be said about the both of them.

It is when NHS mentions their halcyon days at Cloud Recesses that we realize how their lives have changed irreversibly. Both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are visibly sadder, like they’re wishing to return to simpler times when courting Lan Zhan was the biggest problem in Wei Ying’s life and fighting his feelings for Wei Ying was Lan Zhan’s. They’ve grown closer since then but the impediments on their road have also grown bigger.

Wei Ying Asks Jiang Cheng To Stay Out Of His Love Life

Lan Zhan keeps walking like #conceal don’t feel but the sad version of WuJi reveals all.

Wei Ying has been growing tired of Jiang Cheng trying to dictate what he should and should not feel or do about things that do not concern him and he rightfully puts him in his place in this scene. Jiang Cheng tells Wei Ying to not choose “someone else” as “we” already have a lot to deal with. He implies Wei Ying shouldn’t help Lan Zhan because he isn’t family and is clearly underplaying his injury despite Wei Ying emphasising its urgency. And Wei Ying is so done with putting up with that kind of negative energy in his love life.

He is quick to silence anyone who thinks they can hold him back from his heart or overstep the boundaries of his relationship with Lan Zhan. And his logic is very sound, for who on earth is capable of stopping Wei Ying from helping him? Not even Lan Zhan!

Wei Ying breaks free of Jiang Cheng's grip and leaves in Lan Zhan's direction after patronizingly patting his arm. And that is his answer. To him, Lan Zhan isn’t just another person and there is certainly no choice he has to make when it comes to him. It will always be Lan Zhan who is his foremost priority and the rest of the world has to simply get used to being left behind.

We see that he knows Lan Zhan would never ask for help but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it. His soulmate will hence always offer it, and if rejected, simply throw him on his back and continue while Lan Zhan informs him once again of how “boring” it is. He doesn’t get to do that, but his sentiment is romantic enough to stay in Lan Zhan’s memory for sixteen years and become an action he boldly reciprocates when Wei Ying comes back.

Wangxian’s Love Story is Truly “Epic”

Episodes 11 and 12 trace the beginnings of the turmoil that will forge Wangxian’s path (and make us weep). Every romance starts from the idyllic state of undisturbed happiness but it seldom remains there through the whole story. And let’s be honest, calamities bring emotional depth and complexity to a plot, exposing that our favorite characters are human, flawed and a lot closer to reality than we imagined. Both the heroes stay loyal to their core values, with the conviction to be fearless in the face of unforeseen adversities in life and love.

And we hope like the hopeless romantics who are in love with the greatest love story ever told, that maybe all the tragedies that are about to befall Wei Ying and Lan Zhan won’t matter one day because their happy ending will heal all wounds. Obstacles will continue to strew our heroes apart and push them towards the other on a loop, but Wangxian are like magnets destined to snap back together. They will ascend beyond the stratosphere of romance, straight to the heavens, because their love’s greatest virtue is that they have each other and know each other more than any two people ever did in all of history. They are devoted to the other unconditionally in soul, mind and body.

It’s just that our idiot-soulmates take the long way round to realize that their own joint force is capable of annihilating and birthing entire universes, and nothing that ever dared to stand on their path ever stood a chance. And when they do realize that their love is an infinite, impossible force that can bend the laws of nature and be a harbinger of greatness to a world that is doomed to fail, their story is exalted to an epic that doubles as a romance, effectively displacing all the bland, straight examples of love that have infiltrated our past and perpetuated heteronormativity. Because it boasts a love that all of humankind should vie to fashion their lives after and is a true sight to behold - a sight we will rewatch for as long as we live, and bequeath to posterity so they can grow up looking up to Wangxian. Because their love story is the big budget live action fantasy that queer people have been deprived of for so long and is now here to tell us : You should dare to love because it will become your greatest strength. Just like it became Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s.

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skzshinyy · 4 years

Text

Good Boy (Minsung Smut)

pairings: minho!sub and jisung!dom

genre: very fluffy smut

word count: 1.3k

warnings: gay sex, oral giving and receiving, fingering, unprotected sex(don‘t be silly, wrap your willy), daddy kink, praise kink

psa: this is my first time writing smut, so please bare with me, feel free to leave me some criticism if there is anything i could change or improve on. this was proof read by @coffeechangbeanie , she left me some extremly helpful notes, so please follow her and show her some love.(listen to „cool hot sweet love“ and „automatic“ by red velvet for the full effect)

“Ah hyung, I can‘t get this right.. how do you do it??“ Jisung whined as he tried to replicate Minho‘s moves.

But something about the elder was just so special, the control he had over his body was one of a kind, and he knew that first hand. It‘s not their first time practicing the new choreo together, they worked very well together and Minho‘s a wonderful teacher. if he only was to see him dance this nak-

„Hey you, quit daydreaming! we have to get this done! Lemme see how much you‘ve learned so far. Stand in front of the mirror and act like i‘m not here, neither are the fans, it‘s just you alone, okay?“ Jisung nodded hesitantly and scurried to the center of the room.

Minho sat down on the couch and slowly laid his eyes on the younger, the slow, but heavy bass filled the room, Minho could see Jisung‘s eyes change, now filled with lust. He swung his hips and became one with the music. he felt the bass deep in his core and it switched something in him, he felt something he’d never felt.. he felt this certain power, dominance even... and minho caught on to that rather quickly. his eyes followed every single movement in awe, not knowing what the younger was capable of. his hands and feet started to tingle and he could feel himself getting turned on, maybe a bit too much... the two of them have always been close with each other, but not in this type of way, but it felt so... right?

„What are you looking at, loser?“ Jisung said as he finished his part and turned to Minho in a mocking tone. „oh, i‘m sorry i was-..“-„ i‘m gonna go to the toilet real quick, be right back!“ jisung said and left the practice room. minho was puzzled, he felt something for the younger that he has never felt. he‘s usually was a very dominant person, but this time, he felt powerless and small. he played back what he saw a couple of moments ago, the thought of jisung on top of him never leaving his mind. he felt himself getting hard very quickly, he started palming himself over his sweats. his breath started to hitch, already being close to breaking point. When Jisung returned, he saw what Minho was doing and just stared at the elder.

„Did someone miss me?“ - „ nh.. yea-„ Minho moaned, completely immersed into what he was doing, he didn‘t even realize that jisung was standing infront of him until he opened his eyes again.

„strip for me, now“ Jisung said, his tone strict, Minho obliged immediately, standing up, turning to the younger. Minho slowly started undressing himself, first his shirt then his sweats leaving him only in his boxers. The sight was breathtaking, toned abs, his strong thighs and defined pecs. Jisung inhaled sharply, Jisung didn't want Minho to see how turned on he was. He knew what Minho looked like under his clothes, but he never payed it attention until now. And oh boy, was that a mistake, Jisung wanted more, he wanted to see Minho in a different light, get to know him better.

„Sit down on my lap for me baby“ he said, sitting down on the couch. Minho nodded obediently and slowly sat down. this feeling of submission was new for Minho, he felt so powerless. carefully he sat down on Jisung’s lap and started grinding his hips, turning the younger on even more. Jisung wanted to test the elders limits, so he little started bouncing his legs, making Minho to whine.

This moment was so sensual, the dark red lights, the sensual sounds filling the room, it couldn’t have been better. but Minho wanted more, slowly getting closer to kiss Jisung’s lips. it felt magical, the two of them have never felt this close to each other than ever. Jisung grabbed his neck and slipped his tongue in, winning dominance in second’s. Minho let go and let the younger do what he wanted. “Baby, could you take my close of for me and show daddy who’s a good boy?” Minho instantly started opening the button’s of his white dress shirt, unbuttoning his pants, leaving him only in his underwear, never breaking their kiss.

Jisung’s hands slowly made their way to Minho’s abs, feeling them, turned him on a little too much, and Minho could clearly see it. “Can i suck your dick daddy?” Jisung nodded and freed himself from his underwear, his dick springing up and bouncing of his tummy. Minho was amazed and immediately went to his knees, taking and lightly stroking up and down Jisung’s dick, kitten-licking the red angry tip, oozing with precum. Minho licked along the veins of his hard cock, making sure to find Jisung’s soft spot, which made him whimper.

Jisung was getting impatient, he could cum right now, but he didn‘t want that to happen. “On all fours for me, i’m gonna prep you for what daddy’s gonna give you, okay kitten?” Minho eagerly nodded, taking of his boxers and getting comfortable on the sofa. “You look beautiful, if you’re a good boy, i’ll let my kitten cum, okay? tell me if i am being to harsh kitten.” Minho melted into Jisung’s sweet words, completely giving his body to him.

Jisung’s lightly attacked Minho‘s shoulders with the softest kisses, adding very light pressure to Minho’s neck, as he slowly pushed his spit-covered fingers into him. “aah it feels so good daddy..” Jisung slowly started adding more fingers, Minho taking them perfectly without complaining. “You are such a good boy, You look gorgeous baby” Jisung said as he lightly started to suck on Minho’s neck. he pulled out his now three fingers and slowly pushed in his cock, inch by inch. the stretch felt heavenly, Jisung’s dick molding perfectly into Minho’s ass.

His girth was above average and the length was perfect, exactly the way Minho liked it. Jisung felt Minho slowly getting impatient so he started moving , his hands hold Minho’s hips tightly as he kept a steady pace. “nhh more daddy” Jisung sped up his pace, hitting deeper with every thrust. Minho was on cloud 9, feeling every vein on j

Jisung’s dick. “You are doing so well baby, but i want to see your beautiful face when you cum” Jisung said as he pulled out and turned Minho over, standing between his legs, he went in even deeper this time, hitting the right spot every time, Minho moaned uncontrollably, he never felt this much pleasure in his life. Minho could feel his high approaching rather, slowly building as Jisung went deeper and faster “Daddy i’m gonna cum”- “Wait for me kitten, you are doing so good kitten, can you hold on for me a little longer?”

Minho bit his lip in response, focusing on Jisung’s body. It was a beautiful sight to see. The way light sweat beads started to form at his hairline, his golden looks lightly bouncing with every thrust, his muscles flexing and veins slowly forming. He looked ethereal. Minho could feel Jisung speeding up, which meant that he was close too, his hips lightly starting to stutter. “You can come now baby, you did so well.” and with that, Minho let go of all this built up arousal, shooting white ropes onto his and Jisung’s stomach, Jisung coming right after, releasing his load into Minho. A low groan left Jisung’s lips, now letting go of Minho’s hips, which have already started to bruise.

“You did so well baby, i am very proud of you! let’s stay like this for awhile, okay baby? i’ll get you cleaned up later, let’s enjoy this moment together.” they both layed down on the sofa, Minho nuzzling his head into Jisung’s chest, which gave Jisung the opportunity to pat the top of his head. Minho looked up and scrunched his nose. Jisung laughed at his adorable face, knowing that this was going to be the beginning of something more serious, and he was totally ready for it, but was Minho too? “Minho, are we a thing now?” - “Only if i get to be on top next time” Minho cutely said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “ of course baby”

#stray kids smut #han jisung #lee minho #soft smut #stray kids #stray kids minho #stray kids jisung #stray kids minsung #skzsmutnet

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Of Poetry and Valentines

I’ve decided that even though I may not participate in every day of @ineffablehusbandsweek I might as well at least write a story for prompt #1.

1. Valentine’s Day -- (3,400 words)

Chocolate Love-A Cake.

Million Heart Cheesecake.

Mint-To-Be Chocolate Candies.

Some sort of cupcake simply titled Heart of the Batter.

Crowley had been standing in Aziraphale’s favorite bakery for over forty-five minutes. He’d stopped even trying to hold up the queue, which now simply flowed around him

Even the pastries without disgustingly twee names were covered in little frosting hearts and other nonsense. Not to mention all that pink.

“Are you ready to order yet?” asked the girl behind the till, handing yet another customer an absurdly elaborate confection that represented exactly six pounds and thirteen pence worth of I love you.

“Nh,” Crowley said, glancing at the coffee list. The flavors of the month started with Cupid Cappuccino and it went downhill fast from there. “Euh.”

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” she said, with far more chirpy good cheer than was strictly necessary.

The streets of Soho had been transformed. Paper hearts and cupids in every window; massive displays of roses, orchids, tulips and lilies spilled out in front of every shop, regardless of what they sold; even the nearest pub was covered in bright pink garlands and little red fairy lights.

Did no one in this district have even an ounce of self-respect?

Crowley stepped up to the Bentley and groaned. Someone had tied a red heart balloon to the wing mirror of every car on the street. Someone else had stuck little pink animal and flower shapes all over the windscreens.

The Bentley now sported a paper rabbit with Some bunny loves you! scrawled across it, as well as a large paper flower reading:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Here’s a Valentine

Just for you!

He pulled them both off and shredded them to confetti, yet all the tiny pieces still managed to look like little hearts. The balloon he transformed into a pink-and-red football and kicked it as far down the street as he could.

Crowley slammed the door of the Bentley as he climbed in, and angrily shoved one of his favorite Wagner CDs into the player. Of course, what emerged was not the prelude to Das Rheingold but Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

He slapped the radio off and glared at the dashboard. “Cut that out. I swear to Someone, if you even try and pull that on me today…”

Leaving the threat to hang in the air, he turned the radio back on and skipped to the second song, which was now “March of the Black Queen.”

“Better,” he muttered, and pulled away from the kerb.

Aziraphale had never taken to Valentine’s Day, no more than any other saint’s feast day, in any case. He hadn’t commented at all when, almost six centuries ago, it had been co-opted by certain European courts as a day of romance.

Crowley, on the other hand, dove right into it, reveled in it: the poetry, the elaborate tournaments, the sighing tales of courtly love. He was in his element.

After all, a celebration of love might be considered Heavenly, but a day devoted to pageantry and dramatic empty gestures? With an undercurrent of lust masked by a noble myth of pure adoration? That sounded downright demonic.

At least, that’s what he told Head Office. Humans, as always, did ninety percent of the work. Crowley simply observed and dropped a few well-placed suggestions. The poetry got worse, the eloquent love declarations more empty.

By 1800, the exchange of awful verse and sappy greetings in mid-February had become so entrenched in English society that printers had begun to mass-produce cards for the holiday. By 1835, thousands of Valentines – store bought or handmade – were sent through the post every year.

A few more whispered words into the right ears. In 1840, postal rates across the kingdom dropped, and the first postage stamp was introduced. The next February, four hundred thousand Valentines Day cards were mailed all around the country – and, thanks to the changes in the postal system, they could now be sent anonymously.

On the thirteenth of February, 1841, an envelope was delivered to A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop – there was no sender’s address, no salutation, just a number and street name, hastily scribbled. Inside was a simple piece of white card, covered enthusiastically but inexpertly with white lace; pasted in the center, framed by a heart, was a printed image, a bouquet of red roses and blue forget-me-nots. Below, a bit of gold ribbon surrounded a single word: Devotion.

“I don’t know, Angel,” Crowley grumbled when Aziraphale showed it to him. “Could be anyone. Could be one of your customers. Maybe one of them has a thing for rude shopkeepers.”

“I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said, turning the card over to study the pattern of the lace. “There’s something very familiar about it…”

“Familiar?” Crowley demanded sharply.

“I mean, the sender is being very familiar with the recipient. As if they’d known each other a long time.” He ran his finger across the single word. “Perhaps it was misdirected?”

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged.

In 1842, another envelope arrived. This one held a pre-printed card, a single flower on a pink-and-gold background. A bright red heart, tucked behind a pink ribbon, carried the message:

Paeonia, symbol of happiness sublime

Wilt thou be my Valentine?

More pre-printed cards followed.

In 1843, two birds built a nest, filled with hearts instead of eggs.

In 1846, a couple strolling through a watercolor landscape under the words Valentine Greetings.

In 1849, a little girl in a white dress with a basket of roses, and the words With True Love.

In 1852, the angels started appearing. The first was surrounded by morning glories and gold filigree. Loving Greeting.

1853 brought back the lace and forget-me-nots, surrounding a winged figure wrapped in lace and gauze and little else. With Love and Devotion.

In 1854, a chubby cupid crossed a serene lake in a white-and-gold boat filled with pink roses; a line of white swans bridled with more roses pulled it along. Love’s Message to my Valentine.

“They’re just pre-printed messages,” Crowley pointed out in 1856. “They don’t mean anything. Whoever sent it probably just picked one that looked nice.”

“Oh, no, there’s real feeling behind it, I’m sure. Look at this.” It was the most elaborate yet: white lace, roses, hearts, a dove delivering a heart-covered envelope to a little angel, white ribbon framing a poem, tied in a perfect bow.

Crowley rolled his whole head in an exaggerated gesture. “Trying way too hard,” was all he said.

“Are you jealous?” Aziraphale asked with a grin.

“Jealous? What, that you get sappy misdirected mail? No, I’m fine without.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, studying first Crowley, then the card. “Sixteen years? Without missing one? Surely it must be intentional.”

“Angel, a million of those are sent every year. There has to be some mistakes in all that.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” His eyes ran across the poem one more time.

May this bow of white

Which gives delight

And which I send to you

A token be

Of love divine

Oh, will’t thou be

My Valentine?

“Truly horrible verse,” Crowley muttered. “Does that even scan?”

1857 saw the return of the hand-made cards. Skillfully cut paper, lace, ribbons, flowers – sometimes painted, sometimes embroidered onto linen. Pre-made pieces, painstakingly glued together with endearing imperfection. The messages were short, but hand-written: To My Star. Valentine Greeting. Love Always.

“They have different handwriting,” Crowley pointed out. “Different senders.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale conceded. “Unless the sender is disguising their handwriting.”

“Wh-what? Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. But look – all the ribbons are pasted on exactly the same way.”

Crowley squinted at three different cards. “I don’t see it,” he said flatly. “I think it’s your imagination. Do you want a secret admirer?”

“No,” Aziraphale started slowly, glancing at Crowley from the corner of his eyes. “No, on the whole I’d rather have an admirer I knew.”

“Mh. Why do you keep those, anyway?”

“Oh, I love a mystery.” Aziraphale felt the grin slide across his face. “Anonymous cards, mailed to my shop every Valentines Day for almost twenty years? Simply irresistible, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley, apparently, had nothing at all to say.

In 1862, the poetry returned, pre-printed again but at least somewhat better verse. Around a watercolor that was possibly meant to depict Romeo and Juliet:

I may wander over land and sea

Pass many days away from thee

Yet my heart can never rove

From thee, my own, my love.

Aziraphale professed it was his favorite yet, but Crowley only scowled.

The greatest shock was the card that arrived in 1864.

Aziraphale had not expected anything that year. The envelope sat in his hands, as simple and anonymous as all the others. Inside, a heart-shaped card framing an almost embarrassingly cute cat.

This little kitten,

Valentine,

Has come to ask you

To be mine.

He suddenly realized he had made a grave miscalculation. If these cards were still arriving after…after certain recent developments…that could only mean…

Well. At least Crowley was no longer around to realize what a foolish conclusion he’d jumped to.

Another print arrived in 1865, a young lady holding a tulip to her nose.

Oh! Would I were the flower that sips

The honied kisses from your lips.

My Darling Valentine.

The card tumbled from his trembling fingers.

Why? Why did he even bother opening it? Why did he keep them even now?

Aziraphale grabbed all twenty-five Valentine’s Day cards and thrust them into a box. He found a spot on the highest shelf of the bookcase furthest from the door, tucked the box into a corner so gloomy even he could barely spot it. He was absolutely determined to forget any cards had ever arrived.

The envelope that arrived in 1866 was tucked, unopened, into a thick volume of Greek philosophy and pushed back onto a dusty shelf. Aziraphale swore no matter how many more arrived, he would never look.

But, as if a spell were broken, no more Valentines were delivered after that. And the last one remained unopened for over seventy-five years.

Until, two nights after a certain incident in a church, he found it again, hands shaking from the exertion of the search, from the unnamed emotions racing through him.

The card inside was gold and silver lace, simple yet elegant in a way he hadn’t remembered the others being. There was an earnest charm to the way the edges didn’t quite line up to the white paper underneath. In the center, a printed poem, surrounded by hand-painted flowers in more varieties than Aziraphale could name.

Valentine –

Fain would I guard thee through life’s desert drear

And fling around thee love to soothe and cheer

For thee I live might I but call thee mine

I’d be forever thy own Valentine.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but only one being in all Creation would send such a poem.

Aziraphale sat down on the floor of his shop. The tears he’d been holding in for two days finally began to fall.

After Crowley woke from his extended nap, he was disgusted to find how the holiday had spiraled out of control, how it only grew worse with every passing decade. Chocolates. Jewelry. Mass-market commercialization. It became a million-pound industry, and eventually a billion-pound one. Where once hopeful lovers could send a chintzy greeting card for a few pennies, the fools now spent a week’s pay – or more – on useless trinkets, somehow convinced it would ensure a return of affection.

And the engagements! The diamond rings, the elaborate proposals.

It was an absolute mockery of the cheap, empty exchange of sentiments he had spent so long cultivating. Was nothing sacred?

He was sure the Americans were to blame.

And yet now, when the holiday was devoid even of the anti-meaning Crowley had worked so hard to endow it with, now Aziraphale took notice? Now he began decorating his shop with angels even more absurd than the ones he usually collected? Now he put vases full of dried flowers on every table – roses and carnations and tulips in pink and red and white?

Every year, the traditions grew worse, yet Aziraphale only embraced the holiday more.

The Apocalypse had come and gone. The world had changed. For eight months they’d stood on the cusp of…something.

It was absurd. They each knew how the other felt – there was no denying it at this point – but somehow, after six thousand years, Crowley suddenly couldn’t find a way to say the words. Now it was Aziraphale waiting patiently on him, and if that wasn’t embarrassing, he didn’t know what was.

He just needed the right time. He’d hoped Valentine’s Day could be it.

But here it was, the fourteenth of February, and all Crowley felt was fed up. He couldn’t bring himself to buy the overpriced flowers, the punfully-named treats, even a racy gag gift (of which there was never any shortage in Soho). It just felt…empty.

He walked into the bookshop and prepared to disappoint his angel.

Aziraphale had set up a garland of sorts, too, but not paper flowers or bright red crepe paper. Across the two pillars nearest the door – where no one entering the shop could miss them, let alone Crowley – hanging from a string, were twenty-six Victorian Valentine’s Day cards.

Some were handmade – clumsy and uneven. Some were pre-printed – cheap, mass-produced. All were just a little tacky, but in the light of the shop, they seemed to glow with love.

“Ah! You’re here.” Aziraphale emerged with a pile of 19th-century romance novels, which he proceeded to arrange on the front table, to more easily chase customers away from them. “How do you like my decorating?”

“Oh. Uh. You. You kept those.”

“Naturally.” He didn’t even turn away from his task. “They were sent by someone very important to me.”

Crowley gulped. “You worked that out, then?”

“Yes, dear, in 1843.” Aziraphale chuckled, standing a copy of Wuthering Heights on the top of his display.

“Uh…Nh…” Crowley felt his face getting very warm. “You could have said –”

“I assumed, at the time, this was the beginning of some very elaborate prank on your part, and I was curious to see where it might go.”

“You – you said it was a mystery!”

“Yes, that was me playing along.” Satisfied with his display, Aziraphale turned back. “Now, if we’re finally going to talk about this, I do have a question.”

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. No avoiding this, it seemed. “Fine. Right. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but it was…it was too much. Too big.” He looked at the ceiling as he talked, the walls, anywhere but at the angel who was now watching him with rapt attention. “You’d just reject it, and I didn’t want that kind of…y’know. So I just – I devalued what it means to say…that…on Valentine’s Day. Made it cheap and easy and meaningless so that when I told you, maybe it wouldn’t seem so big. Maybe you’d be able to accept it. Or at least maybe the rejection wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Soft footsteps across the floorboards, and Aziraphale’s hand on his cheek, drawing his face back down to meet that blue gaze.

“I know. I worked that out, oh, seventy years ago.”

“You what?”

“Once I understood how you felt, well, it seemed rather obvious. I also know why it never worked.”

Crowley hadn’t felt this completely lost since the night the world had almost ended. He reached up and grasped Aziraphale’s hand for balance. “Please…enlighten me.”

“Crowley, dear. A meaningless bit of frippery bought for a few pennies? A quiet I love you disguised as a joke? That’s not who you are. You need a big, grand show of affection, a blazing banner across the sky, or it won’t ever feel real to you. So even when I told you I liked the cards, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. The holiday was all wrong.”

“Thanks,” Crowley grumbled.

“Well, I was going to say something when you next sent me a card, only you never did. And so I, well, I decided to encourage the humans to, as you say, ‘go bigger.’ I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist a culture of grand romantic gestures. Only I’m not very subtle and it got rather out of hand.”

Behind his glasses, Crowley blinked.

“So…all – all that,” Crowley waved a hand at the window. “All that was you?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled apologetically, though the bastard had probably never been sorry a day in his life. “The holiday generally, and also more specifically the state of Soho just now. I’ve been rather giddy lately and it seems to have gone contagious.”

Crowley thought of everything the day had come to mean – the heart-shaped sweets, the over-the-top dinners, flowers that cost as much as an outfit, jewelry that cost as much as a car. Piles of gifts of every description, sky-diving marriage proposals, holiday getaways to Paris or Florence or tiny cottages in snow-filled forests.

“Aziraphale,” he laughed, found he couldn’t stop laughing. “Angel! You…you made a whole holiday of big, stupid, over-the-top romantic gestures for me?”

“Only because you started it.” He slipped his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling them together, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s hips, pressing their bodies close. The words he wanted to say danced on the edge of his tongue, waiting for the right moment. Not yet, not yet. Instead he asked, “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Ah, yes. How did you do it?” Aziraphale pulled back enough to look up at his eyes. “The last three cards arrived while you were asleep.”

“Oh! That’s easy enough.” His hands found their way into Aziraphale’s and, without anyone needing to suggest it out loud, they walked together to the back room and the well-worn sofa, where a bottle of wine waited for them. “I didn’t want to lose my nerve, so I would buy and send the cards five at a time. I gave the post office instructions to mail them one per year. I told myself each time, ‘After the last card, I’ll say it out loud.’ But, well, I always wound up buying more cards.”

Aziaphale froze two steps away from the sofa. “Are you saying you haven’t bought me a Valentine since 1861? This is outrageous.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, flinging himself down and pulling Aziraphale after him. “Have you seen what passes for romantic verse these days? Pathetic. I’m not going to pay…five pounds or whatever it is for that nonsense.”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale shifted to lean against him, flashing another bastard smile. “I suppose the card selection has been disappointing lately. Still, an angel likes a little poetry now and again.”

“Poetry, is it?” Crowley pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside so he could meet that breathtaking blue gaze straight on. Caught one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it to his chest.

Women have loved before as I love now;

At least, in lively chronicles of the past –

Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow

Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast

Much to their cost invaded – here and there,

Hunting the amorous line, skimming the rest,

I find some woman bearing as I bear

Love like a burning city in the breast.

I think however that of all alive

I only in such utter, ancient way

Do suffer love; in me alone survive

The unregenerate passions of a day

When treacherous queens, with death upon the tread,

Heedless and willful, took their knights to bed.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured. “Well, that’s hardly appropriate for a card.”

Crowley tried to raise Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, but discovered he was shaking too much. “It’s – You’re probably right. But it’s how I’ve felt. For a very long time.”

Aziraphale pulled his hand back, then leaned in to softly brush his lips against Crowley’s. Hesitant. Shy. But when he finished, he didn’t pull back. Crowley could feel the trembling of Aziraphale’s breath, mirroring his own.

“I love you, too,” his angel whispered. “I hope you know that.”

-- end --

Inspired by the pastries at my local bakery, and by a conversation with @angel-and-serpent

All the Victorian Valentines described are actual cards (I tried to do all vintage, but some may have been replicas/modern cards in “Victorian” style), slightly altered to be easier to describe. I also changed a word or two where the poetry was especially bad.

The final poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve said many times I default write the Husbands as asexual, but then Crowley goes and picks one of the sexy sonnets, so I guess interpret where things go from there as you see fit. (I’m ace myself and not going to try and deny the power of Millay’s sexy sonnets. Look at that thing. I become 5% more allo and 8% gayer every time I read it.)

#ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #Aziraphale #crowley #love confessions #valentines day #ineffable husbands week 2020 #poetry #valentines #Edna St. Vincent Millay #oblivious aziraphale #or is he

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kyouxa · 5 years

Text

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Shin Tsukinami (Story 07+CG)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! I’m an amateur translator, but I hope you do enjoy it anyway!♡

Place: Outside — Riverside

Yui: (—This is comfortable. It reminded me of our times together...)

(I was so happy that I even cried, I really got overwhelmed with my feelings)

(In a real way, I finally have Shin-kun with me... he remembered me again...)

Hn... Hmm...

Shin: Have you settled down?

Yui: Y-Yes. I couldn't stop crying as much as I tried to endure it ...

Shin: What are you waiting for? You should cry as much as you want to. I’ll keep holding you like this while you do so.

Yui: ...Yup. Thank you.

How is Shin-kun? Is your headache and body alright now?

Shin: It was a lot of confusion which suddenly popped in my head. I finally understand it a little bit. My brother is not hostile with me in this situation...

Yui: Shin-kun...

(Carla-san, whose memories are still weird, is now an enemy)

(And also about Ruki-kun who lives as an older brother of the Orange family)

(This can’t just be a trivial thing... it’s serious)

Shin: I thought that if I remembered my previous memory wouldn’t disappear anymore. It would remain as it is.

Yui: Is that so... well, you should remind yourself of having Ruki-kun as an older brother for now.

Shin: Yea. I still think it's strange that I was that confident about being Ruki’s brother.

I lost to my real brother, but maybe these guys weren't too bad after all.

Yui: Fufu. Yes, that’s right. Ruki-kun and Shin-kun might have been working good together.

Shin: But after all I have only one real brother. It just looks like as if he forgot about me now ...

If his memories are changed just like mine were, it’s understandable.

Now my own brother forgot that he is a founder and he even thinks that he is a vampire himself.

Yui: Yes... I think it’s so too. He seemed astonished when Shin-kun turned into a wolf...

Shin: Hm... he is my vampire brother who actually forgot to be the founders king? Just thinking about it gives me a reason to vomit.

I don’t know why exactly this is happening, and if this is really someone’s work, they truly got bad taste.

As it is, my brother will continue to be humiliated. I have to get his memory back quickly.

Yui: (That’s right. It's terrible to make his proudness of being a founder say that he actually is a vampire)

We need to make sure to get Carla-san’s memories back!

Shin: Ah. But now there is more than just that. Wasn't it already hard for you alone while my own memories were crazy?

— I’m sorry. It took me too much time to remember...

At the end, I wasn’t connected to them... I was doing terrible things.

Choices

1) — Okay (black)

2) — Lonely (white) ♡ ♡ ♡

— Okay

Yui: Okay. I know your memories were weird. Shin-kun wasn’t that bad after all.

Shin: Are you bringing up that again? You really want to keep talking about my behavior, don’t you?

Yui: Eh! I wouldn’t do such a thing!

Shin: Haha, just kidding. I know that you wouldn’t do that.

— Lonely ♡

Yui: Yes... I felt lonely all that time. But, I am completely fine once again now. Because Shin-kun is with me.

Shin: I should have been there from the beginning, but I felt strange the entire time...

But, I didn’t realize what was wrong. I didn’t remember you, neither I remembered myself.

end Choices

Shin: Give me your hand.

Yui: Eh? S-Sure

Shin: After all, I feel so calm when I can feel your body temperature...

Yui: Me too. Just holding your hand makes my whole body be able to calm down...

Shin: Yes. Right here... it seems to be a scar.

Yui: Ah... ngh

(He is right... it’s a scar which I got because of the collar I had around my neck)

Shin: Does it hurt?

Yui: It’s okay, it’s just tingling a little.

Shin: It doesn’t seem okay at all. Stand still.

*Shin starts licking the wound*

Shin: ...Nn... Nn...

Yui: Kyaa... !? Shin-kun you could have warned me... !

Shin: What is it? Does it hurt?

Yui: T-That’s not the case, it’s just a little embarrassing, nothing else...

Shin: Don’t you remember that the wound would heal faster if I do things like this?

Yui: (If I remember, vampires and founders are able to heal small wounds, they can be cured by licking them, right ...?)

Shin: What is it now? Right now your face tells me that you wanted my fangs instead. Maybe I should suck your blood if you want them so badly?

Yui: N-No that’s not it. I was just surprised how much it tickles.

Shin: What, such a boring respond. If I say that I want your blood I truly mean it like that.

Yui: Eh... ?

Shin: It feels like you've been far away from me even though you should have been my side.

I want to feel you this close after such a long time again.

Yui: Shin-kun...

M-Me too... Shin-kun, I want you to suck my blood. I want to feel you closer once again.

Shin: ...Ngh, if you say so...

Yui: Shin-kun?

Shin: Isn’t this the opposite of what you said earlier? I'd like to do so for your upcoming punishment for lying to me.

You, isn’t it true that you wanted me to suck your blood from the beginning? That’s why you’ve been acting all shy about it.

Instead of punishing you this time, I’ll try showing at least a little kindness this time...

*Shin undresses Yui*

Yui: Ah...

*Shin kisses Yui*

Shin: ...Nh

Yui: ...Nh... Ahh...

(Just kissing him makes my body feel completely hot ... my head feels so empty...)

Shin: Now, that is a nice view I have. If you let your voice out too much, I won’t be able to stop, okay?

Yui: Yes... I know. But, Shin-kun can take as much as he wants to.

Shin: Ngh... you really are an idiot. Do you really want to be messed up by me when you can't even afford it?

I wanted to be the one who is gentle, but if you continue to do so, I won’t forgive you.

Hey... from here, isn’t it okay if I drank here? Directly from your chest?

Yui: ..... !

(There is... the place where Carla-san sucked my blood just recently)

♡ Roses ♡

Shin’s arm: Just why are you touching me? You must really like doing such a thing.

Yui’s head: Come closer, I want to feel your body way closer to mine. If you stay in my arms like this, I can feel you heart beat clearer.

Shin: At that time, when you were sucked by my brother, I could only watch you — I felt helpless.

I’ll bite it hard enough, so it will cover everything he did. I won’t “wait” any longer to do so either.

Yui: Yes... it’s okay. Don’t be shy... because I want to be messed up by Shin-kun...

Shin: Geez... you say so even if you might regret that invitation — ...Ahh... Nn... Nn...

Yui: Agh... Nh...

Shin: Haa... are you okay?

Yui: Yes... it feels nostalgic. For Shin-kun to suck my blood like that...

Shin: While my memories were insane, I just touched your body with my fangs a few times, right?

Yui: After all it’s different now. Even if you do forcefully bite me, it feels so gentle to me...

Shin: If you say it like that, I won’t hold myself back anymore ... you, endure it a little more like this.

I also, like the equivalent of being able to rejoice even when I bite you very painfully. Well, it’s not like I’ll complain.

A place a little closer to your heart than before, there still are some remaining marks... Ahh... Nn...

Yui: Agh... nh...

Shin: This time, I’ll suck from your shoulders and also many other various places, aren’t you happy about that? Nh...

Yui: Ngh... Agh... !

(My head is getting dizzy... I can’t think of anything straight anymore...)

Shin: Your blood is so sweet... For me to be happy is understandable. But aren’t you happy as well?

Yui: Yes, I’m happy... I can feel it properly. Just you, Shin-kun...

It is neither a dream nor a vision anymore. You truly... Shin-kun is right here...

Shin: I’ll never forget you ever again. I’ll swear it to you with the pride of being a founder... Yui.

Yui: Yeah... !

Shin: Like this, you can finally rest. Because I will be right beside you until you woke up... Nn... Hmm... Nh

Yui: (I’m already starting to lose consciousness... I feel disturbed, but somehow I also feel relieved...)

(Because Shin-kun is here, I think that I’ll be alright because of it)

(—I’m finally not alone anymore)

Monologue

Shin-kun’s memories are back and because of it I couldn’t stop my tears from flowing down.

Since then, the two of us have discussed what to do, and for the time being we decided to return to the Orange mansion.

We turned down our memories, and decided to deal with the situation as if they never returned.

Place: Orange mansion — Living room

Ruki: As you may assume, I somehow safely returned Ayato and Kanato from Scarlets mansion without getting into a fight...

I never wanted the both of you to be exposed to the Violet family like that.

Good grief, just what did I think of while entrusting Eve in your hands.

Shin: I‘m sorry. Brother... I was completely out of my mind back then.

Yui: (I want to explain the situation so bad... Shin-kun was attacked by five people, but he still did his best all alone)

Ruki: That expression... I hope you understand that this kind of behavior wasn‘t part of our deal.

Shin: Well, I was caught by the enemy as a result of my behavior. There is no excuse for that.

Yui: (Shin-kun... he doesn’t refute anything at all)

(Even though his memories are back, his old memories about Ruki-kun as his brother aren’t gone)

(... It surely will be complicated to return their memories... it might be even harder than I imagined)

(Right now, what are you feeling Shin-kun?)

Shin: I wasn‘t able to follow my brothers instructions. I accept any kind of punishment you‘ve planned for me.

Ruki: No, that is not necessary.

Shin: Eh?

Ruki: You protected Eve and returned safely again. That’s why there is no reason to know any more behind this for me. Take a good rest tonight.

Shin: ...Brother...

Ruki: Today was a terrible day, but none of my brothers went missing. Let‘s leave it here for today.

Shin: ... Ngh

Thank you, brother...

Well then, let‘s take a rest today as my brother suggested.

Ruki: Ah. Please continue to look after Eve as I already told you. I‘m counting on you, Shin.

Shin: Understood. Eve, let‘s go.

Yui: Y-Yes

Place: Orange mansion — Shin’s bedroom

Yui: Ruki-kun, it was nice from him that he forgave us.

Shin: Yes, that’s right.

Haha. Acting like Ruki as my brother really is fun, I‘m glad I didn’t lack while acting...

For him to leave Eve to me. Stupid man. Saying such a thing to me who is not even a real part of his family.

Yui: But whatever it is, Ruki-kun seriously takes care of his family. Even if it’s not his real one...

Shin: ...Yea, I know. I'm sure that's the part of that man which doesn't change.

Ah... whatever. Rather than that, what should we do next...

Yui: Good question...

In this mansion, we probably shouldn’t talk about anything like that.

Someone might be listening to us right now...

Shin: That’s right. Anyone would be able to hear us here

Yui: Yes...

Shin: Why don’t we pretend to go on a reconnaissance and talk outside?

I‘ll tell Ruki about our scout once we come back to the mansion.

Yui: Yes, thank you.

Place: Outside — Cave

Shin: In this cave, there is no need for us to worry about anyone.

Yui: Yes, I do feel safe here.

Shin: Ruki was just fine with our idea since he can’t take his eyes off these two rebels anymore.

Yui: As a punishment for taking arbitrary actions, they need to clean all the windows in the mansion.

Ayato and Kanato-kun really seem to be attending to it, but ...

Shin: Stop thinking about them already. More than that, what are we going to do in the future?

Yui: First of all, if we sort out our current situation, it’s a place we know nothing about.

For some reason everyone's memories have been rewritten to fake memories, and each brothers connections are broken apart.

Shin: Right. That also applies to Ruki, as well as Ayato and Kanato.

Not only that ... It seemed as if he didn't even remember the guys in Violet‘s mansion.

Yui: That's right ...

(I'm really getting scared when I think about this situation again)

(Shin-kun's memories are back, so I'm very relieved to have at least him besides me ...)

Shin: Yui? What’s wrong?

Yui: Ah, n-no. It‘s nothing.

It‘s just, when I think about what's happening right now, I'm getting scared.

But as long as Shin-kun is right next to me, I can feel at least a little bit relieved.

Shin: Yes, I'm with you now. And I'll never leave your side again.

I’ll never let you go, I’ll protect you no matter what, so don’t worry about that.

Yui: Yes... thank you, Shin-kun.

Shin: You are way too worried. I understand the feeling of your anxiety though.

I don't know what's going on either. Anyway, let's try to get back to our original home as soon as possible.

Yui: Yeah. I want to find a way to go back, and I badly want to return everyone’s memories.

Shin: Yes, if their memories were back, they might be helpful.

And I definitely want to regain my brother's memories. After all he’s still my brother ...

Yui: Carla-san‘s memories...

(When Carla-san saw Shin-kun in his prison, he faced him like an enemy would)

(I don't want to see the two of them in that state anymore)

Yup. I think the same as Shin-kun does. Let’s regain the memories of Carla-san first.

Because Carla-san is knowledgeable, if he would remember, he would surely be a great help.

Shin: Oh, I wouldn‘t rely on my brother remembering that quick. But instead, we need to think of something.

Yui: I know... but that‘s not easy...

Shin: But, there needs to be something we can do. I want him to remember as soon as possible. There must be a way to break this situation.

Honestly, sometimes I‘m wondering about something myself... but as long as we both are fine, it doesn’t matter.

Yui: Eh? What are you interested in?

(Ah... could it be Carla-san‘s medicinal condition? Speaking of which, I wonder if he is okay?)

(It's been a while since I woke up in that church, but I didn't see him suffering until now...)

(How is the disease progressing?)

Shin: ...Well, there’s no need to worry about him for now.

Yui: Yes. But, it seems to be difficult for a founder like Carla-san to be our enemy.

Shin: Oh, but my brother shouldn't be able to activate his magical founder powers.

Yui: Eh? Why?

Shin: That’s because his current memories are messed up. He thinks he is a vampire, so he can't use his powers.

I never thought I could turn into a wolf either that time.

Yui: I see... you might be right.

Shin: With that being said, I can manipulate my own magical powers freely now. I still think my brother is tough, but ...

Somehow, I think I‘m the one who‘ll open up this way.

Yui: Yes... !

Shin: But, there is one more thing that I care about.

Yui: Eh? What is it?

Shin: It is me, my brother, the Sakamaki and Mukami family who are allowed to participate in this championship.

Yui: Yes, that’s true.

Shin: However, I think there is one guy I missed to mention. That guy Kino in Scarlet is the one I mean, who is he?

Yui: Kino-kun... ?

Shin: I don’t remember that guy at all. You, do you know anything about him?

Yui: Uhh, not really... I thought it was someone I knew, but I wonder if it’s different.

Shin: I don't remember it clearly either, but could it be that this man is the master of everything?

Yui: Maybe!

Shin: Isn’t that kind of weird? The only man who’s different from everyone is an unknown one.

Yui: If you say it like that... I wonder if it‘s true... ?

(There is still the possibility of an acquaintance with someone maybe like a god or something?)

(But, if no one knows then—)

???: Hmh, there seems to be another guy whose memories have returned.

Yui: ...Ngh!?

Shin: Who!?

Kino: Don’t talk that loudly. As you can see, I am not a suspicious person.

Yui: Kino... kun... ?

(For him to be in such a place!?)

140 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

If you’re taking more prompts, would you write What Happens at Cloud Recesses for the “JGY kills NHS and NMJ goes on a warpath” au? And perhaps more importantly, Nie brothers reunion ft. fierce corpse!Nie Huaisang? I need to know that it turns out okayish...

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 (Blackened!NMJ aka Digging Graves)

Home wasn’t quite the same home anymore.

Oh, the familiar contours were unchanged: the thick stone walls, the warmth from the tapestries, the intricate decorations on the few pieces of furniture – the Unclean Realm was beautiful and familiar as ever, and seeing it made Nie Huaisang’s non-functioning heart feel warm.

But the people –

The first shichen of Nie Huaisang’s triumphant return home were spent settling Lan Xichen into his usual guest quarters – he asked about a cell and was told they were all occupied with Nie Huaisang’s spare fans, which very nearly made him look amused for half a moment before he remembered how terrible everything was – and putting Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian into another set of guest quarters so that they could work out their little hand-holding-and-abrupt-realization-of-feelings dilemma in private.

The next three were spent dealing with the fact that Nie Huaisang’s entire Sect wanted to talk to him.

Or even just look at him, with expressions of such deep and intense relief – as though staring at a priceless spiritual treasure that could save their lives – that Nie Huaisang felt deeply uncomfortable. Yet the ones who stared at him were still better than the ones who seemed to need to find a reason to touch him, as if they could rub good luck off of him.

It was bizarre.

He was a fierce corpse. The sabers’ instinctive attempts to obliterate him felt much more natural.

It took him until late in the evening to finally escape the crowd.

Luckily, sleep was now apparently optional - or possibly not an option at all, he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t really quizzed Wei Wuxian about the exact details of fierce corpse-hood yet and anyway when he did he intended to bring up a list of complaints and suggested improvements he’d started working on in the back of his mind – so he still had energy to do what he’d wanted to do all along.

Talk to Nie Mingjue.

Nie Huaisang’s da-ge had been by his side every second until they reached the Unclean Realm, eventually retreating to go rest at Nie Huaisang’s urging and eventual ordering, but he hadn’t – he hadn’t said anything. He’d had one of Nie Huaisang’s fans on him, he’d brought out the sabers for him, destroyed the Jin sect for him, he’d done so much –

But he hadn’t said anything.

Nie Huaisang went to find him.

It took a while, since Nie Mingjue had apparently taken refuge in Nie Huaisang’s bedroom instead of his own and Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have guessed that in a thousand years – though perhaps he should have.

“Da-ge?” he said hesitantly, walking up to where Nie Mingjue was sitting on the bed, vacantly staring at one of the walls without seeing a single one of the paintings Nie Huaisang had put there.

Nie Huaisang still wasn’t used to the way his brother’s face seemed vacant of emotion. His brother had always been full of life, always angry or glad or something – even if he tried to control himself he couldn’t, his eyes always giving him away, and even those who didn’t know him, the ones who mistakenly thought he was nothing but angry, which couldn’t be further from the truth, even they didn’t think he was…

Like this.

“Da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue seemed to hear him at last, turning to look at him.

“Huaisang,” he said, and there was the slightest tremor in his voice: fear and pain and loss, and so much of it that it was overwhelming him.

Nie Huaisang sat next to him, leaning over until their shoulders were touching.

He felt helpless.

He’d known his brother loved him, of course. They weren’t like the Jiang sect, where one side tried to show their affection by lecturing and the other side tried to show it through acts of sacrifice and neither side understood the other; they weren’t like the Jin sect, all smiles hidden behind daggers and not one of them actually liking any of the others; they weren’t even like the Lan sect, two brothers so closely attuned that they might almost have been twins born a few years apart, rarely butting heads over anything.

No: Nie Mingjue chased and Nie Huaisang fled; Nie Huaisang complained and Nie Mingjue scolded; Nie Huaisang teased and Nie Mingjue pretended he didn’t laugh. Through it all, his brother always tried to do right by him, sometimes spoiling him and sometimes being too strict with him – a child raising another child, fumbling through it clumsily but earnestly, determined to do the job because to give Nie Huaisang to anyone else to raise would have been to give him up entirely.

Because the Nie sect only believed in adoption when it could be done whole-heartedly. Giving Nie Huaisang to be the son of some cousin or another would have made someone else the heir, and that had always been unacceptable to Nie Mingjue. Not once, no matter how useless Nie Huaisang proved himself to be, had Nie Mingjue ever wavered in his belief that Nie Huaisang deserved everything good in the world.

No matter what things were said about them – that they were only half-brothers, that it was odd that Nie Mingjue kept him by his side, that it was such a shame Nie Huaisang was such a waste of time – it had never mattered one bit.

Yes, Nie Huaisang had always known his brother loved him.

He’d lived a happy life, for the most part, felt safe and content knowing that no matter what happened, he had his brother to hold up the world for him. And now his brother needed him, not the other way around, and he didn’t know what to do.

Helpless to help, again.

Nie Huaisang had only just turned seven when their father had died, but he remembered more of it than he would like. The person Nie Huaisang had known as his father had been lost forever the moment his saber shattered, Wen Ruohan’s poisonous touch and smug smile a looming shadow behind it, but in fact it had been another six months before he’d actually passed away. Six terrible months of madness and pain, which to Nie Huaisang were mostly just faint snatches of angry voices and bruises littering his arms because his father no longer had the ability to remember that he was just a child that couldn’t fight back – Nie Mingjue had kept him as far away from it all as he possibly could, taken the brunt of it in a way Nie Huaisang hadn’t really understood as a child, but there was no escaping it.

Nie Huaisang remembered it being a relief when word had gone out that the Sect Leader had died: he’d been too young to properly understand filial piety back then, to understand that there would be three years of mourning and a lifetime seeking revenge awaiting them; all he’d thought was that he could finally stop hiding in his room all the time, keeping his voice down to try to avoid anyone noticing that he existed – Nie Mingjue had locked and barricaded the door so no one (one person in particular) could get in while in a frenzied rage, and the only way in and out being the high window that his brother smuggled him through for a few short outings in the middle of the night when it was a little more safe.

He’d made his way out of his room on his own, somehow, and run to find his brother, foolishly thinking of sharing the good news that the monster was gone.

Instead, he’d found his brother kneeling on the floor in one of the inside rooms that had once been their father’s. There had been blood everywhere, Nie Mingjue’s precious saber discarded on the floor as if it were nothing but trash, and his brother’s arms had been wrapped around himself as if he’d been cold, his whole body shaking uncontrollably as if he were suffering from some sort of fit.

Nie Huaisang had run up to him and asked him if he was all right, if something had happened, if it was going to be okay, and the only thing his brother said in response, repeating it over and over again as if it were the only words he knew, was I don’t know…

Nie Huaisang hadn’t been able to do anything back then – and now he was fully grown, having lived and even died, and he was just as helpless to help his brother’s pain as he’d been when he was a child.

He’d never felt more useless than he did now.

“Da-ge…”

His brother suddenly moved, pulling Nie Huaisang into his arms as if he were a little child again. “Huaisang,” his brother said, and his voice was truly shaking now. “Huaisang, forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” Nie Huaisang asked, astonished, even as his arms came up around his brother, letting him bury his face into his shoulder as he shuddered and wept as if he were the child. “For what?”

“I lost you,” his brother whispered. “I lost you, I failed you, you were gone –”

“You didn’t lose me, you didn’t fail me, you didn’t! I’m here now, aren’t I? You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t know what would happen. You had no way to know that he would violate his oath to you – that he’d fix his attention on me. You even avenged me – okay, perhaps you overdid it a little bit –”

It was more than a little bit.

Nie Huaisang’s brother had achieved in a single murderous night what Wen Ruohan had struggled for years to accomplish and still failed: with the Wens gone, the Jins gone, the Jiang and Lan sects still rebuilding, there was only one sect with any power or influence left, and now everyone knew it.

As he’d learned from the countless hours he’d spent with his sect, the world had already started changing even while they’d all been preoccupied with their own personal dramas: Nie sect commanders were already starting to be asked questions as if they were everyone’s commanders; their forces had been forcefully swollen by any number of overly-eager volunteers, who were currently being sent out to sweep the land for evil if for no other reason than to keep them too busy to ask the aforementioned questions; and one of the inner sect disciples in charge of correspondence had casually mentioned to Nie Huaisang the truly monstrous pile of applications from small sects seeking to officially register as loyal subordinate sects under Qinghe Nie.

There was even, it seemed, a very stiff one from Jiang Cheng himself, asking for a formal acknowledgment of the new state of affairs –

If Nie Huaisang had known about everything, he might have been a little less eager to take Lan Xichen into custody. He didn’t actually think Lan Xichen was to blame for his sworn brother’s actions, but he did think it was a good idea to have a proper trial on the subject. Lan Xichen needed the cleanness of a trial, of judgment and punishment, to wash away the filth that his sworn brother had left him covered in – it was the ambiguity, the questions, that would be the true torment. Only once everything was acknowledged, the burning light of the truth shining on all the dark places, would he be able to accept that his only crime had been trusting the wrong person for all the right reasons.

Only then would he be able to move on.

Only then would Nie Mingjue be able to move on, from the role he had also played: Jin Guangyao had been his sworn brother as well, and he’d been the one to give permission for Nie Huaisang to go.

Only then would Nie Huaisang be able to forgive himself for having not figured it out in time to stop – all of this.

He’d been stupid. He’d known Jin Guangyao’s loyalties were with the Lanling Jin, that tensions were escalating – he’d even known, as his brother had learned the hard way, that Jin Guangyao was more ruthless than he appeared. And yet he’d liked Jin Guangyao’s indulgence, his little gifts, his sympathy, and that had been enough for him to ignore the rest; he hadn’t thought for one minute to be worried.

He’d never thought Jin Guangyao would kill him.

Just as he’d never thought Jin Guangyao would hurt Nie Mingjue in such a vile way, slowly driving him insane with insidious poison. Based on the little the Lan brothers had said on the way back, the song would have been forcing Nie Mingjue back, step by slow step, into a qi deviation, the ultimate fate of their family, and the mere thought of it put the taste of bile and ashes into Nie Huaisang’s mouth.

If he hadn’t been just that little bit too curious, his brother might have one day – might have ended up just like –

He didn’t want to think about it. As a child, he’d had nightmares about it for months, both during and after – panic attacks during the day, triggered by loud noises or sudden movements or not seeing his brother for too long, and terrors at night that kept him awake and trembling even as he took up space in his brother’s bed, keeping the exhausted newly appointed sect leader from getting any rest himself.

He’d spent hours staring at his brother’s face, afraid that if he blinked, his brother’s eyes would become bloodshot, his cheeks flushed, veins pulsing even as they shattered from the strain of ceaseless rage –

Jin Guangyao would have done that on purpose.

And Nie Huaisang had very nearly missed it – for what? A smile? Not having to train? Some pretty fans?

He would rather they had all been burned.

Yes, they needed a trial. They all did, to wash themselves clean.

Perhaps insisting on a trial was just Nie Huaisang finally living up to their family heritage. After all, their sect had always put justice first and foremost, justice and its close cousin revenge; it was only once justice was accomplished, the scales balanced, that they could move on to healing and purification, to building up again from a new and better foundation.

But putting aside what the trial would mean to them all personally, Nie Huaisang had to admit that he hadn’t thought about the impact of it, the wider implications. How did this all look to the rest of the world? The Lan sect’s leader, willing submitting himself to trial at their hands – acknowledging the Nie sect’s right to lay judgment on his head –

Even if they didn’t want to be in charge, they weren’t going to have much of a choice.

“…we’re going to have so much work to do,” Nie Huaisang said out loud, reaching the conclusion with a grimace. They had a responsibility, now. He knew his brother: his brother would never accept the right to rule without the duty of care, and that meant that they had to care about the whole world…

He thought he knew his brother, anyway –

No. No.

He still knew him.

This was still his da-ge, still Nie Mingjue – a little broken, a little damaged, all those shattered pieces put back together in a way that would never be the same again, but still his brother.

(It wasn’t like their father again. It wasn’t.)

His brother huffed, his own quiet version of a laugh; his breath was warm against Nie Huaisang’s neck, and Nie Huaisang knew that if he embraced his brother the same way, it wouldn’t be the same. “You would be most concerned about the prospect of paperwork, wouldn’t you?”

It wasn’t what Nie Huaisang was most concerned about, not by a long shot, but he’d put years of effort into being a shameless dandy that he wasn’t going to throw away, so he forced a laugh and said, “I mean, can you imagine? Our ancestors would roll over in their graves to think of a fierce corpse filling out orders on behalf of the sect –”

“I broke open the graves,” Nie Mingjue said, and Nie Huaisang stopped, because yes, he had, hadn’t he?

He’d desecrated the tombs of their ancestors, and all of it for Nie Huaisang.

“I don’t regret it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Let me be punished or cursed as an unfilial child or a disgrace to our name; I don’t care. It was worth it to give them what they deserved – that and more, for what they did to you. We all deserve to pay.”

He was going to have to be very cautious in the sort of things he said or did for a while, Nie Huaisang realized. Whether it was because of what had happened to him, or maybe the poisoned music had already pushed Nie Mingjue too far down that road to the dead end – yes, his brother was still his brother, still beloved, but there was a streak of bitter madness in him now, one that would have to be very carefully tended to if Nie Huaisang wanted to see his brother fully restored to health and sanity.

If he didn’t want to see more devastation.

If he didn’t want to see his brother turn Baxia onto himself, in the end.

“You avenged me,” Nie Huaisang finally said. “You avenged me, and you had Wei-xiong bring me back – you did everything you needed to do. You did it, da-ge. You can – you can rest now, okay? You did everything you needed to do, and now it’s my turn to handle things for a while.”

His brother laughed a little at the thought of Nie Huaisang handling – well, anything, and Nie Huaisang supposed he deserved that, but in the end he managed to coax his brother to finally get some sleep, lying down beside him on his own bed like they hadn’t since he’d grown out of childhood.

Nie Huaisang was pretty sure it was the first actual sleep his brother had had since he’d died.

He himself did not sleep.

He looked up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, and for the first time in his life –

He began to plan.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #digging graves #warnings for memories of child abuse #tanoraqui

222 notes · View notes

razberryyum · 5 years

Video

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 2 (spoilers for everything)

(covers MDZS chaps 6 - 10 and a bit of 13)

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

(a 🐰 is earned every time there is a WangXian scene or even when they’re just thinking of each other)

I always tell people when I’m trying to get them to watch The Untamed that when they get to this particular scene in the second episode, they’ll know if they will be into the show. To me, this is the game-changer moment: you’re either in or out after this. If this scene doesn’t emotionally move you enough to at least continue on with the drama, nothing else will. It is seriously one of the most romantic scenes I have ever seen captured on screen. This was the moment that made me realize not only was I now fully committed to CQL, but that I had also found a new obsession and was ready to devote myself to Mo Dao Zu Shi. After all, something that can lead to the creation of such a beautiful scene MUST hold other invaluable treasures. So into the MDZS rabbit hole I went, happily diving head first.

Even now I’m still amazed that this scene exists in the intact form that it does. I started The Untamed with little to no expectations, especially knowing the restrictions it was under AND having just finished Guardian and experiencing how poor creative decisions can arise due to censorship (or at least, using that as an excuse for their dumb story choices). As I mentioned previously, the first episode was a hard sell since they definitely did not put their best foot forward first, but I liked Xiao Zhan immediately and Wei Wuxian as a character was interesting enough that I wanted to learn more about his past that led to his death and rebirth. The small glimpses we saw of his relationship with Lan Zhan also fascinated me, but then with this second episode, the weak points of the pilot still remained: there was still bad CGI (the statue) and very amateurish technical mistakes (in the recognition scene, at one point, in a close-up shot they’re holding onto each other, but in the next far away backside shot they’re clearly standing apart from each other, only to return to holding each other once again once the camera cuts back to a close-up...whoever the editor is on CQL probably should dunk their head in the toilet every time these editing errors pop up) that made my initial viewing of this episode a frustrating one for most of its runtime. I think I spent most of my initial viewing just distracted, playing on my phone or something, until the big WangXian moment happened and then I was shocked and awed. I know I wasn’t paying close attention that first time because when I rewatched the episode later on, I realized I missed a lot of dialogue and details. I have since revisited this second episode numerous times more, and I do feel bad about how dismissive I was initially. It’s a pretty loaded episode: it has funny, poignant, creepy, mysterious, and cool moments while still feeding us bits of the overarching plot. I definitely have developed an affection for it since my first viewing and it’s become one of my favorite episodes in the series.

Of Pining & other Heart-achy Things

This simple line from Jiang Cheng is enough to make my eyes well up with tears: I can’t help but imagine Lan Zhan traveling around the world for sixteen years, most likely all alone, stopping at different places to play Inquiry, fervently hoping that maybe one day he’ll finally receive an answering chord from Wei Ying, only to be confronted by a deafening silence again and again and again. How utterly sad and disappointed he must have been every time, and yet still, he never gave up and just went to the next location to do the same thing and experience the same heavy disappointment all over again. If that doesn’t make your heart ache, I’m sorry to tell you, your heart is no longer functional.

It’s a detail I don’t remember if the novel covered, but I’m assuming that Lan Zhan was the one to bring Wei Ying’s inventions like the spirit attraction flag and the compass back to Gusu and incorporate them for use in his sect’s normal cultivation practices. I know other people have use his tools as well since that nameless cultivator at the start of the episode was also using the spirit compass, but I feel that with Lan Wangji, he probably purposefully acquired and adapted WWX’s techniques so that every time they’re used, they can serve as a reminder of Wei Ying for him. Though it does make me wonder how Lan Zhan managed to get those approved by his uncle; I can’t imagine Lan Qiren being ok with using anything that was created by the man whom he blames for the corruption of his beloved nephew and model student. Did LWJ just pretend he created them instead? That doesn’t even sound right. Maybe Uncle Lan decided to be merciful and just let Lan Zhan win this one since he was probably obviously miserable after Wei Ying’s death. Yeah, I can buy that scenario, especially since the flag and compass are pretty useful tools.

I wondered did LWJ already suspect “Mo Xuanyu” was Wei Ying before he started playing Wuji on his flute. It’s curious that he happened to be in that part of the forest at that time. I’m guessing his Wei Ying senses were tingled when he heard about Mo Xuanyu’s skills from Sizhui and the boys so that’s why he was hanging around the vicinity just in case MXY reveals his true identity. After waiting 16 years for this reunion, it’s no wonder Lan Zhan had no qualms about holding onto WWX’s wrist in public for much longer than socially appropriate.

I actually get a little emotional every time I rewatch this episode and watch Jin Ling display his mad archery skills because I would always think of how much he takes after his dad. His parents would’ve been so proud to see him all grown up like this; Shijie would’ve been so happy she probably would get teary-eyed as well every time she saw her boy in action. Sure, he’s a spoiled little princess, but he is also a pretty skilled princess with a heart of gold and I just wish they had more time together as a family.

They looked so happy, look at all those smiles. It really makes me so sad that Wei Ying will probably never be able to hug JC like that again, and of course he’ll never be able to hug Shijie period. Great now I want to cry again.

Lan Jingyi Appreciation Section

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this precious boy by name so far, so I wanted to take this opportunity to show him some much deserved love. Lan Jingyi with his resting bitch face and steady stream of snark was really the MVP of this episode. He actually made me laugh out loud a few times...in fact, he almost always makes me laugh as soon as he scrunches up his face like he’s smelling something bad. I recently saw someone mention that he’s really the most un-Lan of the Lans (sorry, I forgot who posted that so I apologies for not giving proper credit) and that is really the perfect description of him. I love this kid as much as I love Sizhui and Jin Ling, and I am also sincerely fascinated by him. I mean, who raised him in the Gusu Lan sect? Cuz I cannot imagine Lan Qiren being the one since Jingyi undoubtedly would’ve had all his snark driven out of him at an early age. Hell, the amount of disciplinary action he probably had to have gone through would’ve probably killed him at a young age. Did he join the sect when he was already fully formed so that’s why he’s still breaking Lan sect rules right and left? He threatened an old man and is like rude to everyone. I don’t know all 3000 rules but I’m pretty sure being mean to the elderly and insulting to supposedly mentally unstable people are probably not allowed. If anything, his disposition would make him more suitable for the Lanling Jin sect and yet he’s with the stuffy Lans. WHY? I could watch a whole spin-off series with just him and the other juniors as long as we get to learn about how he came to be with the Gusu Lan sect. He’s hilarious and adorable, and among the many the reasons why I wish we had more episodes for the present-day arc, one of them is because I wanted to spend more time with the juniors, especially Lan Jingyi, even if it meant the screenwriters would’ve had to go off book and create new scenes for them. It would’ve been well worth it to hear LJY throw more shade at people.

Random Bits of Randomness

It’s kinda crazy how WWX just stood there with his back turned, oblivious to Jin Ling’s attack. If Lan Zhan’s blade hadn’t blocked JL’s sword, that would’ve been the end of our main protagonist. I just thought that was such an odd scene...I would’ve felt just a little better if Wei Ying had at least had a little more awareness that an attack was heading for him and made some attempt to get out of the way.

Ugh, that mask. First of all it’s ugly AF, and secondly it’s so freaking ill-fitting it was distracting. Would’ve been nice if the production team gave him a mask that actually fit his face. I mean, did it HAVE to be THAT damn big? I’m amazed they don’t have bts clips of Xiao Zhan tripping and hurting himself because the stupid mask blocked his vision.

Other than being a brilliant mastermind and Oscar-worthy actor, Nie Huaisang has got to be one of the greatest cultivators if not THE greatest cultivator of all time to be able to conjure up an illusion like that. That thing was doing real damage to people. If it was just a phantom, what the heck was holding up those two cultivators in midair like that? And what kicked Jin Ling around? I know Wei Ying was able to drive people crazy with his flute during his Yiling Patriarch phase, but his handiwork still felt more grounded and reasonable than this.

Questions I still have (please feel free to answer them):

- Who was that old man at the grave? Someone NHS paid to just hang around the graves until the juniors and WWX came by?

- So NHS basically fucked up Yan’s entire family and God knows how many other people just to get WWX to eventually play his flute to lure Wen Ning out from wherever he was hiding?

- How did JGY not know Wen Ning escaped? Or did he just leave those details to Xue Yang so he didn’t really care about what happened to Wen Ning? I’m trying if this was addressed in the book but my mind is coming up empty. I don’t think it was brought up in the show though, or I just completely missed it.

Overall Episode Rating: 9 Lil Apples out of 10

#The Untamed #陈情令 #spoilers #Untamed Rewatch #WangXian #Mo Dao Zu Shi #CQL #MDZS #魔道祖师 #Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #Lan Zhan Lan Wangji #Wei Ying Wei Wuxian #Lan Jingyi #Jin Ling #Nie Huaisang #Jiang Yanli #Jin Zixuan #Jin Guangyao

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goodjobmiranda · 6 years

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A logicallity gift for Tabitha because she’s trash.

Hope you’re ready. I started this forever ago and only just now finished it.

Logicallity Oneshot

Words: 2,789

I don’t think there’s any warnings, it’s mostly just Logan panicking over how gay he is

Beauty: a combination of qualities, such as shape, color, or form, that pleases the aesthetic senses, especially the sight.

Beautiful: pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.

Simple concepts, Logan thought.

He always preferred the term 'aesthetically pleasing' over the word 'Beautiful' due to nothing in his life being more than just satisfying. The world around him was simply there, a fact of life. If he sometimes found males to be objectively more stimulating to look at then females, if he found certain dark and cool colors more pleasing to the eye if the night sky momentarily made him pause in awe and wonder then he would accept that this is the limit of beauty for someone like him.

Beauty is mostly pointless anyway.

He was content living in his dull colored world. Until he wasn't anymore.

It was frustrating, irritating, infuriating, aggregating. It should have been a normal day, it should have been plain and easy as any other day. "Let's try that new bakery this morning." He thought. "It would save time making breakfast." He thought.

He should have stayed in bed.

How was he supposed to know that upon entering the small shop named, "Patton's Pattries." That his entire world would shake and crumble before him.

It was falsely routine to walk up to the counter, wait in a short line. He was glancing through his emails on his phone until it was his turn to step up and order. He had simply looked up from his cell to order a blueberry muffin, it wasn't supposed to be hard.

But for the first time in his short meaningless life, he felt like he could truly see color. Sky blue eyes shining behind glasses that looked suspiciously similar to his and a bright smile that could put the sun to shame had stolen his words from his throat. A cheery voice that could rival an angels song speaking to him.

"Heya Pal! I'm Patton, ready to be the apple of your eye!" 'Patton' winked as he held up an apple fritter. Logan would of been ashamed of how long he stared at the man being the counter if his brain could function enough to process time at that moment but his heart pounded in his chest. He could feel his face heating up as his stomach did flips inside him. He couldn't look away but he feared he was about to be sick because the sight of this man alone made his stomach do flips.

A horrible stabbing feeling shot through his chest when he saw Patton's smile fade slightly, how could is dim like this but still be the brightest thing in the room? "Sir? Sir, you need to breathe- please." That chiming voice rang through his head again. He has to force his lungs to work, sucking in a sharp breath that nearly makes him dizzy.

His thoughts slightly return to him, he can tell he's making a scene, eyes watching him with confusion and worry. As a man of logic, he did the only proper thing someone as intelligent as him could think of.

He ran.

He dashed straight out the door and back to his home where he nearly broke the locks on his door out of frustration. His hands shake violently as he reaches into his pocket for his phone, he needs to call into work. He can't go in while he's like this but he can't find the stupid device-

Oh no.

He was holding it in the shop, did he drop it? It must still be there, the man must have picked it up. He can picture it now, Logan's phone in his hand as he stares at the door in confusion. "What a freak." This 'Patton' must be thinking, a frown on his sun-kissed face. He might be angry too, Logan did just walk in and interrupt his business. Maybe he's calling the police to- No. That wouldn't make sense. Logan has to force himself to breathe once more, to remind himself that while he likely didn't make the best first impression that he didn't actually do anything wrong.

Patton, along with the rest of the customers in the little shop would likely be concerned for a bit before moving on with their lives and forgetting Logan ever existed.

Logan at this point fell onto his couch, draping his arm over his eyes. All he could see though was that man, he could stare at the freckles across his face longer he could the stars. How he would love to map them, to learn and memorize every dot across that man's skin. He felt like he would forever long to run his fingers through Patton's curly hair, watch the short waves mimic the ocean in the breeze.

That man...

That man is beautiful.

Logan hates him, he realizes. He hates him with a passion he didn't know he could experience. What else could this sickly feeling be? A feeling that leaves him feeling restless with a physical ache inside his chest.

He hates those eyes that made him question if the sky was a duller blue.

He hated those glasses that looked way too similar to his own yet somehow looked better on Patton.

He hated those freckles that stole away his passion for the stars.

He hated that smile that made the sun seem dim in comparison.

He hated that a stupid pun was the first he heard from that angelic voice

He hated that he probably ruined any chance to even speak with Patton again.

It was weeks later, he decided just to get a new phone and take a longer way to work to avoid that shop. Logan's exhausted, he couldn't so much as close his eyes without seeing the cute man from the pastry stop. He couldn't eat without feeling sick to his stomach after, his world was supposed to be gray and dark and predictable but now he's a mess. His boss had all but forced him to take some time off, years of constantly working over time lead to a lot of vacation hours apparently.

Logan knows that they were trying to help him but it felt more like this was a punishment, how dare he start to feel. How could he not be over it by now?

With a long sigh Logan forces himself to sit up from his bed, he will not fall out of routine just because he doesn't have anything to do. He gets dressed and heads out of his house, down a familiar street. Each step towards the dreaded bakery fills him with a burning rage. He can't live like this, he must confront the root of the issue before it tears apart his life.

He nearly throws open the door to the scene of the crime, the man behind the counter jumps and looks at him. Logan is slightly grateful that the shop is empty as he walks to the front counter, he's not sure what he about to say in his wrath but it gets caught in his throat when he sees Patton quickly rub away tears from his eyes and put on that smile that's been haunting his dreams.

"Oh uh- Hello! How may I help you?" Patton is so much quieter then Logan remembers, the slight tremble in his voice shaking Logan to his core.

"I-I uh-" Shit, he forgot how to speak again. All the anger that built up inside him melted away the moment he saw tears on the baker's face. "Phone?" He manages to choke out.

He can see the confusion in Patton's eyes before that spark of realization. "Oh! It's you! Are you um... Were you okay? I have a friend that gets anxiety attacks like that sometimes..." He simply reaches under the counter and slides Logan's old phone to him, the battery is likely dead and it's already useless but it excuses Logan presence here.

He can't deny the huge relief that fills him when he knows that Patton doesn't judge him for running out suddenly. Even if Logan was sure that was a perfectly natural reaction and not an anxiety attack. "Yes, I was just-" Logan clears his throat. "I am fine now but... Are you?" He doesn't know why he's asking, normally he would avoid asking about anyone's feelings.

Patton's giggle chimes through his being but he doesn't let it distract him from the fact the baker's smile is forced wider. "I'm feeling just peachy!" He looks at Logan for a moment before speaking again. "You wouldn't know but I was making a peach cobbler earlier and- nh-nevermind." Logan almost jumps over the counter separating them when Patton stares down at the ground, he has enough self-control left to remind him that it's questionably legal to do that.

Logan shoves his old phone into his pocket as someone else enters the pastry shop, he feels like he's ready to murder the stranger but Patton's smile becomes a little less fake as he greets the old woman coming in. Logan steps to the side for a moment to allow her to order though it seems like he doesn't need to as Patton already has brownies put aside for her. The seconds feel like hours as Logan tries to be patient, the woman leaves soon enough and Logan is back in front of the counter.

He comes to the realization quite suddenly, this feeling isn't hate. It must be some sort of obsession, some sort of infatuation with this man.

Oh god.

Oh god no.

"I have a crush..." He mutters under his breath, completely forgetting said crush was standing right in front of him and now giving him a strange look.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?" Patton's voice is what slaps him out of his shock.

There are a million different ways Logan could handle this. He could inquire why Patton was crying, he could offer some sort of comfort, he could just make light conversation or order something, maybe get Patton's number.

"I-" Just play it cool, Logan's the master of his emotions. They barely affect him anyway, he is a cold and collected robot. "You- uh... Wh-we have the sa-same glasses." He stuttered out, wincing slightly as his voice cracks. He can feel the burning hot shame on the back of his neck, how can he be so stupid? What the hell- Oh.

Oh.

All Logan's embarrassment is replaced with a strange warm feeling in his chest as Patton's face lights up, he looks like a child that just got a puppy. "Oh my gosh! We do! That's so cool!" Patton pulls off his own glasses to look at them and Logan side by side, soft giggles that make the butterflies in Logan's stomach go rabid. "We could totally match!"

Perfect, this is the perfect opportunity to be smooth and drop in a pickup line or something horribly cheesy like that but still displays the taller man's interest. "Yh-yeah, I mean, yeah. Bye." But Logan blows it.

He flees from the pastry shop once more, though to Logan's credit he didn't create too much of a scene this time though Patton is likely to think Logan is strange but at least he seems to not hate him. Logan may have a chance, after all, assuming he isn't about to attempt to woo a straight man. He supposes if all fails Logan can just avoid that street for the rest of his lifespan.

A week later Logan stands outside the pastry shop with a carefully wrapped bouquet, waiting for it to close at 5 pm. He keeps glancing at his watch, 4:57 pm. He's minutes away, he just needs that last god damn customer to leave so that he can enter 'woo' Patton. He's getting impatient and his nerves are starting to take over but he won't let himself run away this time, he spent hours researching flowers and then driving to flower shops to buy the right ones.

The small bell that signals the door opening gets Logan moving, finally, finally Logan can enter the small shop. He clumsily hides the flowers behind his back as he steps in, greeted by that smile that's been haunting him at night. "Oh, hey again! I didn't think you would come back, shame because I'd love to be close to you~" He laughs softly. "But we are just about to close I'm afraid..." He says with a crooked smile, leaning over the counter.

Logan thought he was nervous before, now he's sure his heart is about to explode on him. "Yes, I um- I'm aware but I just, uh..." His hands are getting gross and clammy from his death grip on the flowers. Oh god, he's crushing the flowers! In his panic he pulls them from behind his back and shoves them at the poor confused shop owner, Patton barely reacting in time to keep the bouquet from falling to the ground. "Ah! Oh, I-I'm sorry! That- that was more force then I intended- I-"

A gentle hand touches his arm, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. Logan looks up to see Patton smiling at him. "It's okay, no need to start petaling into a panic." Patton says with a wink before his expression softens, looking down at the flowers in his arms." They're beautiful flowers... Is there any reason they were thrown at my face though?"

"Oh, yes!" Logan straightens his back at that, he rehearsed this part. "I mean no... I didn't mean to throw it..." He can do this. The taller man takes a deep breath to calm himself down before he starts speaking. "That re- That flower there is a Gloxinia, it... It symbolizes love, at first sight, I was so- I was immensely overwhelmed when I met you that... The Gloxinia fits." Logan could feel himself getting choked up again, everything feeling way too hot. "The orange rose for fascination, I have not been able to get you out of my head since I first saw you... That leads to the red carnations, they represent my heart aching for you." He pauses a moment to clear his throat, keep calm and breathe. "And that, that little white and yellow flower are a uh- a Jonquil. It means a desire for you to return my feel- my affection."

Logan chances a glance at Patton, seeing the smaller males face entirely red as he stares at him with wide eyes. They make eye contact with each other for a moment before Patton looks down at the flowers again and frowns slightly. "What about this one? It's a... What are they called? I see them around a lot." He asks, looking back to Logan.

Logan can feel a small tug at his lips, the barest smile sneaking onto his lips. "It's a peony... Because peonies are gay." The amount of pride that fills him when Patton let's out a shocked laugh is unbelievable, his laughter infecting Logan and making him chuckle slightly. The baker's giggles easing some of the tension in the taller man's shoulders. "I understand if this is a... A bit strange. I completely understand if you need time to consider or even do not wish to engage in such romantic activities with me, of course. I will respect your decisions and leave you be if you are perhaps put off by my actions... I shouldn't have done this at your work, this is highly unprofessional, isn't it? I'm sorry for any inconveniences-"

"What's your name?" Patton's voice cuts off his mini-rant, leaving him confused for a moment before he realized.

He never gave Patton his name. "Logan, my name is Logan Berry." He shifts to make sure he's standing straight has he holds out his hand for the other to shake.

Patton doesn't shake his hand, instead taking his hand and holding it gently. "Well, Mr Logan Berry. Would you like to accompany me to dinner?" The baker asks with that smile that melts Logan's soul.

"Very much so, yes."

Virgil sat on the couch, eating ice cream as Patton practically danced around the room while going through the details of his date with the guy that freaked out and left his phone a month or two ago. "Okay, wait." The darkly dressed man raised his spoon at Patton. "You're telling me the reason that guy ran out of your shop was that he thought you were hot and he panicked?"

Patton's giggle filled the air as he nodded, face still red from his excitement.

"Oh my god, mood." Virgil huffs a laugh and shoves another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, letting his friend continue to gush.

#Miranda's fanfics #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #gay panic #don't quote me on the flowers #i don't know what im doing

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clubpassim · 5 years

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Women in Folk - Isa Burke

Hi there!

Katie here with another wonderful interview for the ‘Women in Folk’ blog. Today’s interviewee is none other but Isa Burke!

Isa is a founding member of the famed Lula Wiles band. She has been in and around music longer than she can remember. Both of her parents are professional musicians who have been making their way around the New England folk scene for quite some time. Growing up, the hallways of her house were filled with the likes of the Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Ella Fitzgerald, and many other iconic figures in music. A little known fact is that for three years, Isa Burke was a band geek, playing trumpet in her school band and stealing hearts at every pep-rally. However, her love of trumpet just wasn’t enough to continue her on this path, and so when she was 10 years old her parents gave her her first - bright red - electric guitar.

Isa thought that rock music was her calling, because “folk music is for old people.” But when she was 12 her parents convinced her to attend the Maine Fiddle Camp for the first time - where her parents both taught. That was the first place she saw young people playing folk music, and, well, the rest is history.

The following year she decided to pick up the fiddle and attacked it “with the fury of hell”. Most of her fiddle-playing friends were older and had been playing fiddle for much longer than she, so Isa practiced, practiced more, and practiced hard. She got pretty good pretty fast, but her technique still wasn’t where she wanted it to be, so she started taking private lessons in both fiddle and classical.

“One really pivotal thing for me was the Black Bean Cafe in Rollinsford, NH. Every month they had an open mic night geared towards songwriters, and I must have attended every single one from middle school all the way through high school. I made a lot of wonderful friends there, as well as collaborated with a ton of wonderful musicians.”

This, in addition to her many returns to Maine Fiddle Camp, pushed her to apply to Berklee to study violin, which eventually became her reality. Once there, Passim was a frequently visited and locale for her, as well as a favorite venue of hers to perform at. College wasn’t the first time she found herself on Passim’s stage...

“The first time I played at Passim was with my first band ever. It was a duo with my friend Lina, and we were called Isa and Lina. Matt Smith (booking manager for Passim) asked us to play at the Campfire. festival, and we were horrible. We couldn’t get our instruments in tune and Lena had forgotten her tuner at home. It was such a mess. Clearly, I overcame it, though.”

And overcome it she did. Lula Wiles often credits the founding of the band to a particular night at Maine Fiddle Camp where Ellie and Isa sang harmonies together and said they “felt this really special thing when we sang together”. Through Berklee, they got a showcase at the Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival and decided they wanted three-part harmony and bass. They asked incoming Berklee freshman and longtime friend Mali if she wanted to play the gig with them, and she quickly became an indispensable member of the group. “We realized we were a band now, and that’s how Lula Wiles happened.”

In addition to her work with Lula Wiles, Isa plays rock guitar in Shawn Trischka’s band Corporate Punk and is producing her first record for Liv Greene, an up and coming singer-songwriter. You can also catch her at Passim’s School of Music where she has taught classes from harmony singing to music theory to our Bluegrass ensemble. Catch her Vocal Harmony Singing Workshop on Monday, July 8th!

The next part of the interview discusses her role as a female in the folk industry.

(*strong language warning*)

[full interview under the cut]

Club Passim: Talk a little about your experiences as a female artist/all-female group in a heavily male-dominated music genre.

Isa Burke: It’s such a double-edged sword. That’s something I always come back to. Being a member of an all-female band vs. just being a female musician are totally different experiences too. I think often times women will start bands with other women because they know they won’t be belittled or talked down to, they know that their bandmates will assume that they generally know what they’re talking about, or they’ll feel comfortable enough to voice something if they don’t know it. This happened all the time at Berklee when I was the only girl in my classes. If I didn’t know something I would be too afraid to ask because I didn’t want all the guys in the room to think, ‘Well of course she doesn’t know this because she’s a woman,’ when in fact a lot of them probably didn’t know what that thing was either.

Being in an all-women band is so amazing. That’s a huge reason why I started playing lead guitar. When Ellie and I played duo, we were playing all of these country songs and I just said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I took a guitar solo? I don’t really know how to do that’. But then I started doing it, and then I started getting pretty good at it. I think if I had been in a band with men, I wouldn’t have been comfortable trying to do this thing I’m not very good at yet but will get better at. We’re all very supportive of each other in the band.

Biases can come in many different forms. For example, when I was just starting to play electric guitar, my friend asked me to play a gig with them. We were rehearsing and I borrowed my friend’s pedal because I was still new to the electric and didn’t have my own set-up figured out yet. One of the other band members asked me, “Oh, is that your pedalboard?” And I just thought to myself, ‘Motherf*cker, you would never have asked ANOTHER GUY if that was their pedal board, you’re asking me because I’m a girl.’ But it wasn’t my pedal board. I didn’t want him to think that women can’t own sick pedal boards and by the way, I have a sick pedal board now, so I think I just ended up lying and saying that it was mine.

I’ve also noticed real differences in how people talk to me about my fiddle playing vs. my guitar playing. People expect women to take fiddle solos more than guitar solos. Often there’s a tone of surprise when they compliment me on my guitar playing because they’re not expecting it, you know? All of these things are very subtle and most of the time people probably don’t even realize or notice the little biases that they have. I take very seriously the role that I have to be visible to other women and men. I get really psyched when I see a young boy in the audience at a gig and I take a guitar solo because then he’s not going to grow up thinking only men can play the guitar, and maybe if he starts a band he’ll hire a woman guitarist. But of course, inspiring the young gals is my literal favorite thing in life. I feel really lucky that I have a platform to move the needle a little bit and help break down these biases.

CP: Do you notice a difference in how you’re treated by other artists, venues, audiences, and industry professionals before vs. after you play?

IB: Yes, I’ve definitely noticed it more when Lula Wiles was younger. We’d walk in to play a gig and here were three girls in floral-print dresses with our “little band”, but then we get on stage and you see three multi-instrumentalist women doing their thing and playing pretty powerfully. That’s when people usually figure out we know what we’re doing.

I have heard some crazy stories from other people though. For example, a friend of mine was an instructor at a music camp and after she played in the faculty concert one time, one of the other faculty members who was a guy came up to her and her bandmate and said, “At first I thought of you two as sexual objects but now I know you’re also great musicians.” I think he thought he was joking but like, come. On. My blood still boils every time I think about it.

CP: Incredible classical artists such as classical pianist Yuja Wang use their performance attire as a way to express themselves. This provocative style of dress has been viewed as “distracting” from the music. What are your personal thoughts on women using fashion and sex-appeal as a means of bringing in more audience members and assisting in selling their music?

IB: Another one I could talk about all day. It’s so complicated, right? You want to look good and feel good on stage. That is usually my primary goal when I am getting dressed for a show: ‘what will make me feel good and enable me to give the best possible show?’ A lot of times it feels like putting on armor.

As women, it is drilled into our heads that we have to look attractive, that we have to look sexy. It’s really hard to escape that. I never want to fault women for using that phenomenon to their advantage, but I also want the music world to be a hospitable place for women who don’t want to do that, who want to just wear a t-shirt and sneakers on stage and not wear make-up and sound incredible.

I still don’t really know where I come down on that one, to be honest, but I had a really great conversation with my bandmates in the van last week. We were talking about the “whatever choice you choose to make is a feminist choice” brand of feminism, but we had a problem with that. The thing is, all choices can’t be equal choices if some are rewarded by society and certain others are punished.

It’s really important to interrogate your own desires. Ask yourself, ‘am I doing this because it makes me feel more like myself? Or am I doing this because it makes me feel more acceptable to the world?’ Until all traces of patriarchy are gone from the world, which will probably never happen, we won’t ever really know what our true deepest desires are because they are so shaped by the world around us. At the end of the day, it’s important to constantly ask yourself questions, interrogate, and critique.

CP: What do you do in a situation when you feel disrespected by the artists/co-workers you’re surrounded by?

IB: It depends on the situation. If someone is blatantly rude to me I would probably just call them out on it and walk away. But if someone does something a little more subtle or if they show a bias they have, I will try to find a way to poke at that in a friendly way. For example the pedal board guy. I probably would have said something like, “Well, what makes you think this isn’t my pedal board? Why wouldn’t it be?” It’s a hard balance because you do want to stand up for yourself, but you also want to reach them, right? You hopefully want to change someone’s mind a little bit.

Sometimes people will give my bandmate Mali a condescending or patronizing compliment such as, “Oh you sweet girl, you play such nice music! You must have been gifted this talent”, and what I love that she does is she’ll say something like, “Oh well, thank you, but I actually just practiced a ton and worked hard to get good at my instrument.” I think letting people in on the hard work musicians have to put in can shift their perceptions in a subtle way.

CP: In your opinion, how can men be more aware or informed about their women peers and co-workers in the music industry?

IB: First off, I think that it’s really important to examine your own perceptions and try to figure out where you might have a bias, which is not your fault and is the fault of society. Take a mental inventory of the way you regard your male musician friends, versus the way you regard your female musician friends and see if there are any significant differences. Really try to dig into why you think that may be.

The second thing I would say is to make a conscious effort to hire women. Try to stay away from all-dude bands. I think that men instinctively go to other men when starting a band because they’re more visible in this male-dominated industry, but I think with a slight mental adjustment you can find equally qualified women who maybe haven’t been given as many opportunities, even though they deserve the opportunities just as much. That also has the pleasant side effect of increasing visibility for women, and I cannot say enough how important it is for people to see themselves represented. It’s something I focus on a lot.

There’s also a real premium and value placed on being able to “shred” on your instrument and being technically proficient; I saw this at Berklee a lot. I know a lot of women who can seriously shred on their instrument, but this value placed on shredding is so prominent amongst men, and I just don’t think that’s the most important thing about music. A lot of my favorite musicians aren’t that technically proficient but play with such emotion and musicality. I love getting to hear musicians play on their second or third instruments because they can’t fall back on their muscle memory and so they have no choice but to express themselves. Remember what music is all about.

CP: What message do you want to display as a woman in folk music?

IB: Overall, what I want to project into the world is that there is nothing weird about a band of women in floral dresses who have hairy legs and play the shit out of their instruments. Those things can all co-exist very peacefully. I think it is equally important to increase visibility to women and trans/non-binary people in the music industry so that we can eliminate the expectation that only certain genders can do certain things; who can be a producer, who can be a band leader, who can play drums, who can play guitar. I think that it didn’t even occur to me that I could be a producer until I heard about women producers. It didn’t occur to me that I could be a drummer (one of my secret but not-so-secret dreams) until I heard about women drummers.

I want to make people aware we all have certain biases that aren’t our fault. We’re all born into a world that creates those biases in us, but it is our responsibility to dismantle them and un-learn them.

I also want to pass on all the help and opportunities that were given to me when I was first starting out. There were a lot of incredible women that gave us the chance to open for them, as well as some great men like Matt Smith and Matt Glaser who helped us out and guided us, and now that I’m in a position where I can help others out I want to do that because so many people did it for me.

CP: What words of wisdom/encouragement do you have for aspiring women in folk?

IB: Keep an eye out for the sexist bullsh*t, but also give men a chance to surprise you. A lot of them can learn. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. That’s what I try to approach every new situation with. I also think that collaborating with other women will pretty much always give you a huge confidence boost. I think that playing with women will give you a chance to explore parts of your musical identity you haven’t before, which will give you more confidence the next time you’re in a rehearsal and some guy makes a comment assuming you don’t know how to play your instrument.

Our society tries to put women in a box, and I think really trying to see the box as clearly as you can so you know how to break out of it is important. Recognize that women are often working with a confidence deficit, and ‘fake it till you make it’ is honestly one of the best pieces of advice I can give to anyone. Obviously, know your weaknesses, know what you need to work on and work hard at it. Hit the shed and work hard but don’t feel like you have to be totally perfect at everything. There’s a common feeling among women that you have to be twice as good to get half the recognition. But try to say f*ck that. Whenever you can.

Thank you, Isa, for such a thoughtful and eye-opening interview! You have such wonderful and informed opinions. I think we can all learn from this and try to examine our own biases a little more.

When’s the last time you’ve given your judgments a second thought?

Thanks again to Isa, and thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the next installment of the ‘Women in Folk’ blog!

Katie

PC: Louise Bichan

#womeninfolk #club passim #women #feminism #lulawiles #band #boston #folk music #womeninpower #speakup

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claytonsarah1990 · 4 years

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