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lotzzoforangezoutside · 2 years

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135 X-Files fanfic, w/ summaries

I...missed Summer 2022 masterlist somehow. Oops.

OG series

Season 1

Jeer: Mulder visiting the Boys.

Unicorn Sightings Scully visits Mulder's apartment for the first time.

The Warranty: Scully gets a watch.

My Little Friend: Mulder buys a watch.

Like Birds on High: Post "Beyond the Sea", Mulder recovering in the hospital.

The Jinx: Mulder and Scully traps in a high school gym.

Season 2

The Jar A social visit at the Gunmen.

Clays: Set during "Red Museum", Mulder and Scully eats BBQ.

The Sushi Dinner: Mulder and Scully go out for sushi.

The Piece of Information: Skinner and Mulder talk about his partners.

Too Early to Tell: Mulder visits Scully at her mother’s, set after Scully’s abduction.

Season 3

Set!: Conversation and a card game.

Loud: living habits, sharing hotel rooms.

What to Do with April Showers: A little fun to be had at the office.

A Waste of a Nose: Mulder's finds his favorite perfume.

Cabana Bar: Scully has a date this weekend.

Modeling: Mulder draws Scully a bath.

Season 4

A Freaky Fairy Tale: Post "Small Potatoes," door’s kicked, eddies’ booked, what’s next?

Lunch A: Never in a million years did she ever think she would be having lunch, at a cafeteria, in a middle school, with Fox Mulder sitting right across from her and drinking chocolate milk.

Unspoken: Set during "Home".

Surefire Tell-Tale Signs: Hotel room etiquette

Superstitious: A Friday the 13th story.

The Prince in the Blue Plastic Chair: Set during cancer arc, Mulder and the waiting room.

TCB: Post Never Again, Sequel to The Game.

Season 5

Lucky: Mulder has a chat with Frohike.

Things We Don’t Talk About: post bad-blood, Mulder talks to Scully about the case.

Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off: At first, he dreads seeing unfamiliar phone numbers, set during cancer arc.

I Count the Moments, Darling: Post "Kill Switch".

Pioneer Club: Mulder gets a piece of mail and Scully is intrigued.

The Love Song of Prime: Mulder sees Scully kissing another man.

Post Fight the Future

Fireworks: Fourth of July, 1998.

A Prayer: Set during the movie, the Gunmen breaking Byers out.

Season 6

Three Inches: Make a big difference.

Bedside Manners: Dr. Scully and her bedside manners.

Aquadina: Post "Agua Mala." Mulder recovers.

Fooling: just fluff.

The Best-Laid Plans: Mulder's best plans.

Counting: A celebration. Happy one-year.

Juvenile: Being young again.

Apart: Scully gets picked up at the airport after a mini vacation.

After the Dream It was all a dream, or was it not?

Bachelor Pad: Fox Mulder and his bachelor pad.

Sweet Revenge: Mulder's getting his revenge.

Siren and the Sailor: Mulder calls his friends to express some gratitude.

True Lies: Doodling in the meeting.

Cafeteria: Pre "the Unnatural", Scully getting her ice cream.

First Summer: Lovers in summer time.

Summer School: Another seminar for Mulder and Scully.

Strings: Another afternoon in the bullpen.

Scully’s Arched Eyebrow: Mulder has a little misunderstanding about trees.

The Cross: The items to turn one on.

The Investment: Mulder visits the FBI accountants.

The Sasquatch’s Club Rob and Laura goes shopping.

Five Boxes: Mulder helps Scully get rid of some boxes.

The Crush: Mulder calls Scully while they’re a continent apart.

Season 7

Bloody Tuesday: Post "All Things," The morning after.

Caddyshack: Post Je Souhaite. Popcorn and a movie date.

The Last Moments of October: Halloween, 1999.

Kitten: post "Je Souhaite", Mulder and Scully talk about his wish.

Morning Person: He thinks everything about her is adorable, and that’s not because he’s in love with her.

Minty Fresh: A good thing after waking up.

Calling Baby Sisters: Scully gets a phone call.

Seven Seven Forty-Nine: Mulder has a dream.

Season 8

Hard-boiled Eggs "He’d punched people for far less."

Losing Grey Matter: Nighttime, in the household with a newborn.

How the Stars Stole the Night Away: Mulder comes home, but is it really him?

Jupiter: Mulder sings a lullaby.

Season 9

Mother’s Advice Mulder following his mother’s advice.

The Motel Guide for the Wanderlust: Mulder writes a book.

Season 9+

All the Moms in the World (are the Same): Mom and Mulder.

Delta Glen: the ultimate road trip of seeing America.

Simple Maintenance: Visiting mom.

Homes Away: Life on the run. For fun.

Infinity: Healing is being understood.

Mulch: Mulder digs a garden.

Home Improvement: Making improvements on the remarkable house.

The Project: Mulder learns to bake.

Gossip Folks: Working with the enigmatic Dr. Dana Scully...

The Big Four Zero: Scully turns 40.

Nighttime Intermissions: Scully hears a sound and Mulder investigates.

Shells: Life on the run. A road trip without a destination.

Slipper Hero: In the unremarkable house, Mulder waits for Scully to come home.

Just in Case: December 21, 2012. The end of the world is coming.

Revival Period

The Records: A busy day at the records office.

Wizard: The woes of being a superhero.

Unspecific Time:

3x-13: Three stories about comforts.

Sympathy: Mulder and Scully visits a museum.

Lounging: Summer solstice is the longest day of the year.

Lass: School fun.

Packing: Scully learns how to pack.

Designated: It’s not like they’ve never drank together.

Smitten: It's hard not to be smitten with Dana Scully.

The Riddle: Mulder tries to guess Scully’s screen name.

Preparedness is the Mother of Luck: Staying over at Mulder's.

Eureka Springs: one bed.

Reruns: Mulder spends some time in his apartment after an injury; Scully visits.

Puppy Love: Mulder muses about Scully's hand.

Born-Again: The first time story.

Regulars: Mulder and Scully make a bet.

Funraiser: Putting the fun in church function.

Fools in the Summertime: Mulder is under the weather.

The Lavender Soap: Mulder walks down memory lane.

Ask and You Shall Receive: How Mulder got his partner.

Sensible: Mulder and Scully’s shoes.

Emily AU:

Bossy: Emily is a bossy little girl.

A Practice: Emily studies for a vocab quiz.

Mutt: Emily draws a picture.

Extra, Extra, Extra: Emily gets a toy.

Compliments: Aunt Tara visits.

Bedtime: The bedtime routine.

The Swing: Emily gets a swing.

Ultrasound: Scully gets a prenatal check-up.

Open House: Going to an open house.

Emily and the Giant Pumpkin: Uncle Charlie sends his love.

Cricket Universe:

Frog: William and Mulder talks about girls.

The Sea Monsters of the Atlantic Ocean: The Scully-Mulder's take a trip to the beach.

The Carousel Slide Projector: Family game time.

The Love Interview : Cricket interviews daddy about the love of his life.

Granpes: An old fool meets a smart child.

Cricket’s Best Friend: Mulder observes his daughter’s friend.

Coral: Coral is for the 35th year.

Cool: William gets his 19th birthday present.

Jacksons AU:

Here Come the Mulders: A typical afternoon.

Fire Fear: How Mulder got in trouble with his boys.

Divergence series:

Stonehenge: Season 7 split, before “All Things”.

St. Marks: Season 6 split, post “Unnatural”.

The Old Man’s Choice: The Smoking Man intervenes.

The Romantic’s Choice: Frohike to the rescue.

The Girls’ Choice: A boy’s imaginary friends.

A Mother’s Choice: Scully changes her mind.

The Witnesses’ Choice: Will think something’s funny about his parents.

The Caller’s Choice: William comes home after a phone call.

The Daifu: Summer in Northern China, mid 1800's. A young, new doctor and his best lost girl.

Marrying Superman: Getting married, post-colonization style.

#with summaries #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #fanfic #the x files #x-files fanfic #lotsoforangesoutside #135 stories

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leslutdepointedulac · 11 months

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Put 5 songs you actually listen to and tag 10 of your favourite followers to do the same.

Tagged by: @bubblegum-blackwood

Ngl this is gunna be hard cause there are just too many songs for me to choose from. Also I do have a bit more of a range in music taste than this but rock/metal/alternative in general is my favourite so, ya. Idk what to tell you.

Griftwood by Ghost because that song is a banger (tbh any and every song by Ghost is a banger and this whole list would just be Ghost songs but that would be boring af)

Boy On A String by Jars of Clay. This song was made for Nicki okay. It's his song and I love it so much

Venom by OLLIE. This is also an absolute banger and gives me Louis vibes. (Kinda Loustat) So ya. It also gets stuck in my head to an annoying level

Monochrome by Babymetal. Another banger (do you see a theme here?)

FML (LOL OH WELL) by Killboy because every time this song comes on I get unnecessarily excited

This was really hard and I could go on forever. There are so many other different songs I could've said but I went with these as these are among my all time favourites.

Tagging: @calipsan @lovetheviking @david-and-gillian @dragqueenlestat @bandedbulbussnarfblat @the-brat-prince-1760 @halo4life2017-blog @darkangel1791 @loustat-0 @saintrayne

#tag game #my vampire chronicles

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klessard · 1 year

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Jars of Clay: Dan Haseltine, Stephen Mason, Matthew Odmark and Charlie Lowell Photo Credit: Matt Barnes

DC Talk: Kevin Max Smith, Michael Tait and Toby McKeehan Photo Credit: John Falls

I was raised in a strict Christian home and was limited in the music I could listen to. These are two Christian bands I loved in the 90s and still like today. Jars of Clay and DC Talk both had hits on mainstream radio such as "Flood", "Boy on a String" and "Between You and Me".

#jars of clay #dc talk #90s music #christian rock #90s bands #christian music #90s

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oldster2 · 2 years

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Check out Jars Of Clay – Jars Of Clay — Essential Records – 01241-41580-2 — CD https://www.ebay.com/itm/234667330135?mkcid=16&mkevt=1&mkrid=711-127632-2357-0&ssspo=NscypWlkTW2&sssrc=2349624&ssuid=NscypWlkTW2&var=&widget_ver=artemis&media=TW #eBay via @eBay

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lethesomething · 4 years

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The ghost and the witch

I am still dealing with the emotional gut punch that is the ending of Ghost of Tsushima, so have a very indulgent… fluff piece? My proofreaders have told me I can’t call it a comfort fic, so let’s go with ‘soft fic with canon levels of angst’ instead.

Tags: Jin Sakai x Reader, fluff, soft, comfort (?), angst, ridiculously poetic descriptions of nature, ludicrous levels of symbolism, so much pining

You scoop the dry green dust into the pouch, carefully checking the weight on a tiny brass scale. With a small wooden spoon, you stir the dust into the clay powder and dried grass already present, checking the contents of the pouch one final time before closing it up and using a few quick stitches to secure it.

"There." You add the pouch to the pile and hold out the order. "One bag of stomach salts for the Fushikawa boy, and five wound ointments. That should keep you going for a while longer."

The Ghost, sitting in seiza on the opposite side of the table, bows his head as he takes them.

"Thank you."

He looks tired, sweat and mud mixing with caked blood on his brow. You're fairly sure it's not his, but that knowledge does not soothe you as much as you'd like. There are hard lines in that face, drawn by sacrifice and pain, etched in stubbornness and unwavering, never-ending pursuit.

"It would be better if you rested, lord Sakai."

He looks up. His eyes are clear and focused, crisp as the winds blowing up the northern cliffs of the island.

"Please, call me Jin."

"My apologies," you say, "force of habit."

"I don't recall you ever calling me 'lord' when we were young," he grumbles.

"That's because you wanted it too much back then," you grin. "But either way. Jin. Please take a rest. Your body cannot keep this up, no matter how tight your resolve is. You need actual sleep. You can stay the night if you want. You'll be safe here."

His gaze drops down and his brow knots, as if he's thinking over a new concept, something so foreign to him that it leads to confusion. Then he gets up. "The boy."

You're not about to argue. He's the most stubborn man you've ever met. With a sigh you follow him to the door of your house. "Then come back."

His retreating form stops briefly. The wind twirls leaves around his silhouette, outlined against the moss-covered trees. It's late in the afternoon, and light comes down the canopy like droplets, skittering from branch to branch until it falls to the ground in ever smaller pools. Shadows rule here, hiding his face, obscuring even the horse trotting to his hand. "I'll see what I can do," he says, and then he's off.

----

Rain beats like hooves on the roof, mercifully muffled by the thick layers of thatch and greenery that shield your abode from prying eyes. Still, for a short moment your heart stops when you hear the screen door softly slide open, and just as quickly, slide shut. He stands there, slick with rain and glowing faintly orange in the light coming from the fire. "Excuse my interruption," he says.

You shake your head. "Welcome back." Embers fall off a log in the fire, popping and crackling. The rain drums above you. "Have you eaten?"

"A little," he mumbles, too stubborn to admit to hunger, but not composed enough to keep his eyes from wandering over the shelves for supplies you may have.

Movement comes to you in a sudden rush. "Sit down, I have some millet porridge leftover."

"You don't have to-"

You wave away his concern. "And I have water in the hearth, I'll draw you a bath."

"That's really not necessary," he starts saying, but he stops when you turn and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yes it is."

For a long moment he halts, as if to take stock of the dirt, the sweat, the blood, the horse hair dampened by the rain but not washed away fully. He watches the fire, breathes in the smell of herbs that fills the very air inside this house and looks towards you, bustling over a pot of warm food. He nods. "Alright," he concedes, and gets comfortable on the floor. "Thank you."

---

Steam rises, curling and dancing in intricate patterns toward the rafters. Jin rests his back against bamboo planks and rolls his neck. The tub is just big enough to submerge his lower half in warm, fragrant water. Whatever it is you’ve put in there smells nice. Calming. He takes a cloth and rinses it, before he wipes it on his face and shoulders, rubbing away what feels like years of grime and fatigue.

You’re tending to the fire, your form similar, but somehow more graceful than what it was. Your hair is longer, the skin on your hands rougher, but the years have not taken much else from you. Certainly the bright flame behind those eyes is still present, unrelenting and unyielding in the face of everything.

You look up. “Did you want me to do your back?”

He blinks. “Uhhh.”

And then you smile, and that hasn’t changed either. Your lips curl up in a way that could be read as polite or mischievous, depending on the outlook. He’s always been fond of it.

“Please,” he says.

-- -

You sit on a stool by the bath and knead the heated skin on his shoulders between your fingers, the pads of your thumbs running small circles on his neck. His back is a patchwork of colours, from dark purple bruises to blues and reds and yellows.

You try to avoid the more painful looking blotches while you make your way down, but he does not protest at your touch. He’s silent, save for an occasional sigh and a roll of the neck.

He’s grown, you notice. There is a dignity and a will to him that he lacked when he was younger. You’re well aware of what he’s doing, the lives he chooses to take, and those he chooses to save. You know of the enemies he’s made. Part of you is very proud of him. Another fears for his wellbeing at every turn. The path he’s chosen is not an easy one to walk.

“How long has it been since you last washed your hair,” you ask into the silence that sits on top of the rumbles of fire and the splash of water.

“I’m not letting you do that,” he says lowly.

“Can I at least pick out the leaves?”

He chuckles. “If that’s what you want.” He leans back against the side of the tub and lets his head fall towards your knees. “Next you’ll ask me if you can shave me as well.”

“Would you let me,” you say, tugging at the cord that holds his bun together.

He grins. “I just might.”

He closes his eyes and a curtain of black falls across your lap. You take a silver comb, one of your few treasures, and start gently tugging at the knots, unraveling the work of the sea and the wind.

---

Jin leans back and closes his eyes. Your comb runs across his scalp in languid, repeating motions, like waves lapping at a beach. He times his breathing to their rhythm and sits there, relishing in the soft intimacy of your hands.

There is comfort in the motions of your fingers running across his head. The smell of camellia’s is faint but nostalgic as you comb out the strands and oil them. It’s been a long time since he felt this warm, this content.

“Can I ask you something,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you leave?”

Your hands pause for a second, but do not falter. Your fingers continue their gentle motion, starting at the scalp and gliding down to part the hair, followed by the comb.

“I suppose they never told you.” He feels a weight to those words, but can’t quite make it out.

“I have always wondered,” he says. “I didn’t really understand what happened. One day you were just gone.”

“Jin.”

The weight shifts. There is a pause, a silence in which your fingers keep moving and steam fills the void between the two of you. The rain outside has stopped, he notices, and then you take a breath.

“We were close,” you say. “Close enough for people to notice.” Your voice gains a raspy edge, as if it is difficult to speak. “I was not good enough. Not for you.”

“That’s-”

But you continue before he can form the sentence. “It was decided that it would be best that I move north, so as not to needlessly distract you from your studies.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“That was, perhaps, for the best,” you say softly, and your fingers start gathering his hair. “You were not in a position to do anything about it.” You collect the strands in the palm of one hand, smoothing up any stragglers with the other.

“The last I heard was that you were to marry one of clan Terushima’s retainers, but you didn’t.”

“I did not,” you hum behind him, as you coil his hair and tie it with a thin piece of string. “I’m sure he was nice enough, but I was never going to be some random man’s wife. I decided on a different path.”

You tap his shoulder and Jin sits up, takes in the herbs drying from the ceiling, the shelves of jars and powders. The pebbles, the statues, the trinkets. “You did,” he says, and he watches as you wipe down the comb and carefully fold it in embroidered silk, a piece of an old kimono he vaguely remembers, and store it in a box on the shelves.

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

You shake your head and carefully put away the oil. You rinse your hands in a bowl of water and dry them thoroughly. You set your shoulders before turning to him. “No path is easy to walk, Jin. Especially if you follow what you feel is right,” you say, finally. “Some roads are smoother than others, but we all crash into the walls and thorns confining us eventually. Whether you pull back from the edge or push through is up to you. We all do what we must.”

“We do,” Jin says quietly. His eyes feel heavy now. The fragrant water hanging thick in the air seems to call out, beckoning his senses deeper into the mist. When he looks up again, you are standing by his side, a towel in your hands.

“And you must really rest, so get out of there while I pick up some more firewood in the shed.”

---

The birdsong of early morning filters through the blankets of vegetation that swaddle your house. The light will take a little longer to get here, traveling all the way from the top of the forest canopy like honey oozing off a spoon.

You get up from a nest of fabric and straighten your clothes, combing your hair with a wooden pick before tying it back.

The Ghost lies on a mat in the corner, chest slowly rising and falling.

You poke the dying embers in the fire, sparking them back to life. There are many things to do: clothes to darn, balms to brew, but for now you are content to sit here and listen to soft breaths as you watch the sparks rekindle, adding branches to a fire that is sure to burn you if you continue to let it grow.

---

Jin Sakai adjusts the strap of his glove, tightening it. There is a dull ache in his chest that he didn’t notice before today. It has come to the foreground now that many of his other stings and pains have found relief.

His breath is deeper, his head is clear. The deep, gnawing exhaustion that turned his every movement into a deliberate act, a decision to go on despite the waves crashing down, is shallow now. It tugs at his feet like mud, enough to annoy, but not to trip him, certainly not enough to stop him.

You’re leaning against the door style, arms folded. Your lips are curled, smiling, but your eyes are not.

He sighs. The sun dapples you with blossoms of light, crowns you in golden glory. Slowly, his hand reaches up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

You blink rapidly up at him. “Jin?”

A sudden gust of wind whirls around you, tugging pieces of thatch off the roof and blowing strands of hair into your face, obscuring your vision.

He leans in and softly, briefly, places his lips on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”

#jin sakai x reader #fanfic #fluff short #ghost of tsushima

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stormjay0 · 4 years

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Someday those strings will choke you

But until that day

You don't really mind

And you're just wasting time

You don't feel anything

You're a boy on a string

Boy on a String- Jars of Clay (1994)

@ayapcraft

#and the universe shifts #atus #andtheuniverseshifts #atus fanart #grian #watcher grian #evo grian #hermitcraft grian #hermitcraft #evo #minecraft evolution #hermitcraft fanfiction #hermitblr #fanart #my art #digital art

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pbandjesse · 4 years

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I just got it in my head to cut my hair. Not the length but all my layers had grown out and my ends felt fried. So that was fun. Today was incredibly busy but honestly just a really good day

I slept okay enough. And I woke up a little before my alarm. I bothered James for a bit but I got up and made the bed and went to get ready. I felt pretty cute. And I was looking forward to my day.

And I was totally right that Chris was going to throw me in a group so I had to stick up for myself. And I got exactly what I wanted. I was with a group all morning and working on prep and having that one class in the afternoon. Charlotte is wonderful and was okay with it and that made my life so much easier.

The kids I had today were excellent. Could not have asked for a better group. I brought string and clay and looms over and they were so excited to learn. Most of the girls (and one of the boys) spent the whole morning making bracelets.

They were such good listeners though and so easy to work with. We went to "the museum" which is a little library room in the lodge, to return books and help clean up, and to get a few other books. And then back to the art shed to hang in the hammocks and play with clay and work on bracelets. It was just so chill.

We went up to horsemanship and we were a little early but that was alright. We hung out at one of the picnic tables and then one of the dachshund dogs, Baily, came over and after all the kids pet them one of the boys were like "Hands off!!! It's Ms Jesse's turn!" which I didnt even ask for but was so sweet. So I sung the panda bear song to Baily and the kids thought it was so cute and then Baily wouldnt stop following me. Adorable.

We headed out and said goodbye to the horses and took the secret trail back to the fort. We had lunch. I had them all eat at their own bunk and then we cleaned everything after. And since we had some time before the pool I was like. We will go hang in the hammocks some more.

But then I got a call that some of the kids were getting picked up right then. Get them ready, get them outside. Weird. It was going to storm later but like. The sky was clear now, so this wasnt an early pick up.

But they left and I took the remaining 5 to the art shed to chill until Charlotte came for them. Which is when Charlotte told me that all the kids that were in one counselor's group last week were going home because she was sick. My heart was racing. I had to go sit down. Apparently the health department says were good as long ad those kids left until results came back. But jeez. Alexi had a conversation with me later and it seems like its going to be okay. That its just a cold. But man. Its scary to think about. I am so worried about everything all the time and that was not good for my heart.

The rest of the day was supposed to be prep. And it was but it was also just so busy!! I had the kids from yesterday come back and they continued to be very small and silly and sweet. They painted and enjoyed the hammocks and I worked on some prep. It was good.

Once they left I got to work on my worry jar example. The material Heather got for me to do it seems to be perfect. I am excited to experiment with it more. But I wasnt sure how long it would take to dry so I decided to take it on a walk around camp. Show Heather. She was very excited and thought it looked super cute.

I made a stop at the trading post and asked if some teens had free time they come help me sort out strings. And Olive was like. My teens!! They will help!! We have nothing to do!!

So I was like. Uncomfortable because I hate asking for help. But I sucked it up and they honestly were just wonderful. They were so super helpful. They were silly. They were there with me for a few hours and they made things look so neat and clean. Olive mostly dealt with embroidery floss, some of the girls did the yarn, one girl did the sewing box. The boys were given the task of smashing tiles for mosaics and they were having way to good of a time. It was so silly. But because they were all doing those things I could just work on setting up things for the next few days and next week. Amazing.

I started getting a head ache though. The sky was getting dark and there was thunder. I think the pressure in the atmosphere was giving me a head ache. But I was in such a good mood with this group of kids. We somehow ended up talking about periods and abusive relationships and body piercings? They had good questions and I dont mind explaining things. They were sweet.

Once they finished cleaning things up, they headed out. I was pretty tired. I hadnt taken a real break today. Busy busy busy. So I spent the next half hour just laying in the hammock. But then I felt guilty so I finished cleaning and went to the office.

But soon it was time to leave. I had a head ache and I was worried about the rain. And the rain did hold off. Until about half way through my drive home. It came down hard. And people still dont seem to understand that I CANNOT SEE YOU if your lights are off!!! So it was slow going but I got through the rain and it was dry the rest of the way home.

When I got back here James was out. He was getting us veggies for dinner and was home before I jumped in the shower.

I felt a lot better once I was clean and in pjs. James made us a lovely pasta dinner. And I played animal crossing. Said goodbye to Keaton, our first campsite villager, who is finally moving away. I hope we get a good friend next.

We have just been hanging out since then. I cut my hair. And now I am going to go get ready for bed. I hope we all sleep well tonight. I hope tomorrow is a wonderful day for you all. Goodnight my friends!!

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rainbowcarousels · 1 year

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currents

tagged by: @desertfangs & @birdblacksocialclub

current time: 4:51 pm

current mood: sleepy and uncordinated, what a week!

current activity: drinking tea and watching doctor who.

currently thinking about: the seemingly universal issue of giving something a higher fx budget seeming to correlate to losing a sense of whimsy and character based writing and whether I'm in a spicy writing mood or something else.

current favorite song: Boy on a String - Jars of Clay (it's been stuck in my head since I got a Nicki/Lestat/Armand prompt and the lyrics do suit them very well)

currently reading: Damn all at the minute.

currently watching: Doctor Who (second season of the revival), but I've been considering rewatching Fringe. It's been a few years and I look forward to getting Jenova project feels with Walternate.

current favorite character: I have a carousel, but Genesis has been getting some love this week.

current WIPs: This is going to call me out, there's a couple in there that isn't working for me so I'm not sure I'll finish them or the characters voices are hard at the moment but the ones I'm rotating right now are:

Here Beneath My Lungs chapter 2 (Lestat in the City)

Nicki/Lestat/Armand prompt for @hekateinhell

The continuation of the Nicki Lives stuff (Armand coming into the chapel and dealing with Marius and Louis and Gabrielle is HEAVY this might take a while)

Daniel faking his own death (honestly this might turn into a Daniel centric story exploring my own headcanons about his mortal life so we'll see on this one)

The Armand Bed Pile (kink edition) for VC Kink Week

ff7

I'm in a mood for you (for running away) chapter 5 (this one is going to be a little experimental because I've been playing with different POVs and I think I might try to do this from Genesis' mothers and that is making me a bit nervous with it)

A Day At the Beach: SOLDIER edition (the memory Sephiroth references of the three of them basically playing hooky on the beach which was beautifully illustrated here by @birdblacksocialclub)

Tagging: @uncivilcivilservice @ryal-is-reading I'm not sure who else hasn't but if you want to, please do!

#ty for tagging me #family instinct and till we meet tomorrow will definitely continue too it's just my cloud voice that's gone awol #i'm not sure how i'll respond to ever crisis but there were different ideas i had that i knew would end up probably being long term #one ended up being jbswm #the other has been poking me in the side #we'll see sometimes it helps to get on a wip schedule but so much here beneath my lungs is smutty #and i have to be in the right mindset for that #idk i'm rambling #meme

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ramblingsrantsreviews · 5 years

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13 Reasons Why: Season 3 - Character Thoughts

The third season of the controversial Netflix show 13 Reasons Why dropped on August 23rd. Since I am the world’s slowest binge-watcher, I recently finished the season and damn do I have some thoughts and opinions.

This isn’t the first time I’ve talked about this show here. I did a review for the very first season back in 2017 when it first aired. Two years later and here I am again trying to wrap my head around everything that occurred over the 13 episodes.

Since there’s a lot I want to stay and I am still processing the entire season, I figured I’d make a couple of different posts regarding the show. This one is going to be all about the characters and what I thought of them this time around.

So sit back, this might take a while.

Let’s start with our main character, the person of interest, and our hero Clay Jenson. I’ll be honest with you, Clay Jenson was never a favorite of mine.

His biggest flaw to me has been his need to place his crushes on a pedestal. He did it with Hannah, he did it with Skye, and he did it with Ani in this season. You’d think he’d learn his lesson but nope! The boy just keeps on putting unrealistic expectations on his crushes. He projects an imaginative version of his crush onto the real thing and it never turns out well for him. They’re never as pure as he thinks they are. They’re never as good-hearted as he thinks they are. They’re never truly who he thinks they are. And that’s his own damn fault. Yes, Ani shouldn’t have been lying about her friendship with Bryce but at the same time, Clay shouldn’t have thought that she never said two words to him.

Clay has a heart of gold. He will do anything and everything for his friends -- even if it means going down for a murder he didn’t commit. And he feels deeply. As Justin said, “He’s a good person. If he acts out of emotion, it’s because he fucking cares.”

Clay, by definition, is a nurturer. He takes care of the people he cares about and he sees the best in them even when they don’t. He gave Tyler hope and courage, Justin a second chance on life, and Tony a friend he could rely on. What’s interesting, and not all that surprising is that Clay saw potential for greatness in almost everyone he met except two people -- Bryce Walker and Montgomery De La Cruz. That’s not a coincidence.

Going forward, I’d like to see Clay grow as a person without a romantic interested because the boy has real potential. And I’d really love to see him go to therapy. This is my plea to the writing staff -- GET CLAY A THERAPIST!

- - -

And then we have our new narrator and new character Ani Achola. Oh, Ani you had such big shoes to fill and you didn’t even come close to filling them.

One of the biggest issues I had with Ani’s character is that she came out of nowhere and suddenly she’s BFFs with these kids who barely like each other. I find it so hard to believe that she would be so quickly accepted within the tape squad -- especially when they’re harboring a giant ass secret about a foiled school shooting!

And it’s not only that she accepted, but it’s also the fact that they trust her. Never once does anyone ask Ani to leave when they’re talking to Clay about what really happened after Homecoming. NO ONE! It took Clay an entire season to get people to trust him and here comes Ani worming her way into everyone's business. I just don’t get it.

As if that’s not bad enough, she fucking lives with Bryce! Okay, she lives in Bryce’s guest house but still, she lives on the Walker’s property. You’re telling me the writers want me to believe that this group of teenagers who loath Bryce Walker are suddenly BFFs with a girl who lives on his property? Give me a fucking break.

The nonsense doesn’t even end there. This girl, this dumb new girl who hangs out with a group of people who loath Bryce and who were put through hell because of him decides that she knows him better than they do. That Bryce Walker has changed and suddenly he’s a good person. And then she has the audacity to fucking sleep with him! But she’s fearful of Clay — fucking Clay Jenson would couldn’t hurt a fly even if it landed on his dinner. The amount of hypocrisy that spews from Ani’s mouth is astonishing.

But don’t worry cause by the end Ani has come to her senses and spearheads the entire idea of placing the blame of Bryce’s death on Monty. Are we expected to applaud her a hero? I certainly don’t.

Ani Achola is nothing more than a talented manipulator. It’s no surprise she got along so well with Bryce who also has mastered the art of manipulation. Ani goes around telling everyone that she knows and sees things in people that they don’t see in themselves. She builds them up, learns all their secrets, and then slowly uses those secrets against them.

She did it with Jess — telling her she saw a badass girl inside her, learning she was raped by Bryce, and then fucking sleeping with said rapist. Not to mention she comes up with the ridiculous idea that Jess slept with Bryce to regain her power. COME ON!

She did it with Clay — befriending him and earning his trust and love, knowing he had feelings for her and stringing him along, using his anger towards Bryce after what he did to Hannah against him to justify him being the murderer.

She manipulated every one of the core characters into trusting her so that they would spill their darkest secrets to them. And she made them believe that they needed to speak up so that they could protect Clay, but really, I think she was trying to figure out who killed her beloved Bryce Walker.

I don’t trust Ani. I hated how things ended with her telling her mother that she was seeing Clay — she didn’t even ask Clay first, she just assumed that he wanted the same thing. I’m skeptical and I will remain skeptical.

Also, if it isn’t clear enough, I don’t think she should have been the narrator of the season. This season could have followed a similar narrator pattern as season 2 did with each character narrating their own interrogation.

- - -

This season tried really hard to give redemption arcs to two irredeemable characters when it wasn’t necessary. The season already had its redemption story -- Tyler Down.

I was really hard on Tyler in the first season because let’s face it, he crossed a lot of boundaries. Lurking around the school and taking candids pictures of students for the yearbook is one thing. It’s an entirely different situation when stalked Hannah and took those pictures of her and Courtney. It was an invasion of privacy and at the time his crimes against Hannah ranked him extremely high on my list of hated characters.

Then, season two happened. Just like all sexual assault victims, Tyler did not deserve to be sexually assaulted. To this day, that is one of the most disturbing and jarring scenes of media I have ever consumed. I still get sick to my stomach thinking about it. Tyler was so affected it by it that it lead him to nearly become a school shooter -- thankfully, Clay stopped him.

Season 3 Tyler is the Tyler that the world deserved. We got to see Tyler deal with his trauma and the ups and downs with being a sexual assault survivor. In the end, Tyler becomes a happier and healthier version of himself. Yes, Clay and everyone who kept Tyler’s secret helped but it was really Tyler who did all the heavy lifting. Tyler was the one who had to want to get better and, though it took a while, he realized that he did want to get better.

Tyler went from a misunderstood, bullied teenager who felt so much hatred and fear that he was willing to kill to a happy teenager with a group of friends who truly care about him -- not because they have to but because they want to.

Tyler’s relationships with the other characters are really interesting because you can tell he’s very skeptical of them at first. He knows they’re just being friendly to him to ensure that he doesn’t do anything bad again. He feels like he’s being babysat and yet, he follows them around when he’s scheduled to because he knows they’re helping him. As the season progresses, we see these relationships develop into real friendships.

Tyler’s actions are redeemable not because of his past trauma but because he understood he was in the wrong. He understand he was making a poor choice because of the trauma he was facing. And he wanted to change -- he didn’t want to die. He realized he didn’t want people to hurt the way he hurt.

Not only was he a redeemable character, but his character is so important in the larger discussion of sexual assault and male victims. Tyler didn’t have to tell Clay or Jess or the entire school or anybody that he was a sexual assault victim. But he did and in doing so he allowed the world to see that, yes, men can be sexual assault victims too. When he stood up at the assembly and uttered the words “My name is Tyler Down and I am a survivor” he opened the door for his fellow male classmates, like Justin Foley, to stand up and live their truth. Not only that, but it made the other members of Hands Off realize that Tyler was more than an ally, he was a survivor.

I never thought I’d say this but Tyler is one of my favorite characters now. I hope we get to see him continue to thrive and maybe even help Jess run the Hands Off organization.

- - -

Justin Foley. I don’t know what it is about that boy, but I have loved him since day one -- I think it’s the puppy eyes. Don’t get me wrong, Justin has his flaws. He started the shit storm that leads to Hannah’s suicide by taking that picture of her at the park. And he played a part in the rape of his girlfriend, Jessica Davis by not doing more to stop it.

Now some might say, how could you forgive a character who let their girlfriend get raped? How could Jess forgive the boy who let her get raped? Unlike Bryce, Justin showed remorse instantly -- at least on the inside.

Like Tyler, Justin has a redemption arc, though his arc is still a work in progress. I absolutely loved how ride or die Justin was when it came to Clay. Justin couldn’t stand Clay in the first season and now the two are living together and on the road to being brothers. He was willing to lie to the police about his whereabouts that night to give Clay a solid alibi. He pulled Clay away from the Homecoming fight to protect him from getting hurt. And he was willing to lie to the Jensons, even after all they’ve done for him, to make sure that Clay wouldn’t go to jail.

Justin may have thought he found a brother in Bryce, but he never knew brotherhood until Clay took him in.

My biggest issue with Justin is his constant drug use. I knew the moment he went searching through his bag when Clay left the room that he was still using. How could he not have been? The second season literally ended with us seeing him inject himself with heroin. A person doesn’t just stop heroin - they need professional help to do it. In fact, Justin may be in even more trouble now that he has added prescription drugs to the mix. I’m so glad he spoke up about needing help in the final episode. I sincerely hope we get to see his journey to sobriety in the final season.

Justin standing up at the assembly and telling everyone that he too was a survivor was such an important and impactful scene. Jess’s face says it all, she had no idea. In hindsight, it’s really not a surprise. Justin’s mom was constantly strung out and bringing home men who were not only bad for her but bad for her son. What shocked me more was his admission that he sold himself for sex when he was on the streets and sometimes things went south. That small little line is so important because it points out that sex workers can be survivors of sexual assault to. They can be taken advantage of. Their trust can be broken. And their willingness to sell themselves can be misconstrued as consent for any and all actions.

Also, the fact that Justin told Jess he didn’t come out sooner because he didn’t want to distract Jess from her own journey -- SOBS! I love you Justin Foley -- you incredibly dumb, yet incredibly kind boy.

But please, get him away from drugs and drug dealers. I want to see a happy, healthy, and SOBER Justin Foley next season.

- - -

The queen of survival, the inspiration for change, and the girl who is done with everyone’s bullshit Miss Jessica Davis.

For the past two seasons, we’ve seen Jess as a victim and for the first time, we got to see her as a survivor. Seeing her as student body president fighting for change and spearheading the Hands Off club was the right move for Jess. I liked seeing her come into her own and understand that she is not her past.

I think it’s important that even though Jess is getting better, she still struggles with what has happened to her. We see her in a flashback tell Bryce that even though she’s healing, sometimes she still feels like he’s on top of her. That feeling is never going to go away, but that doesn’t mean it needs to define her.

Though I’m not keen on the idea of showing teenagers having sex so freely, Jess reclaiming her sexuality was an important milestone for her and for survivors everywhere. I found it interesting and not all that shocking that this time around Jess wanted to be the one in control when it came to sex. It was a way for her to feel safe and enjoy herself because she knew she was the one calling the shots. And even though she was in charge, she still made sure Justin was comfortable as well. Consent is key!

Jess has a lot going on this season. As I said, she’s student body president and the president of the Hands Off club. She’s trying to change the school and how sexual assault victims are viewed. She’s harboring secrets like Tyler’s foiled school shooting and her involvement in Bryce’s death. She’s trying to have a relationship with Justin which leads to backlash from the HO group. And, on top of all that, she’s dealing with her feelings surrounding the death of her rapist.

One thing I found really interesting about Jess this season is her feelings towards Bryce’s death. Her reaction is even more interesting and shocking when we find out her involvement in the murder. When the news hits that Bryce’s dead everyone has a reaction. After Justin opens up to Jess about his complex feelings around the death, Jess comforts him and reassures him that Bryce didn’t deserve to die. And yet, we find out that she watched Bryce die! I kind of wish we got a sense of what her true feelings were regarding Bryce’s death.

Jess is on the right track and I hope we get to see her continue to grow as a person. I hope she finds comfort in herself and continues helping others work through their trauma and understand that they are survivors.

- - -

Alex Standall is another character I’ve been a fan of from the very beginning. His near suicide in the finale of the first season crushed me. So it should come as no surprise that I was extremely disappointed in Alex this season.

I found it extremely out of character for Alex to willingly interact with Bryce — whom he’s hated even before Hannah’s tapes were passed to him. One could blame his interactions with Bryce on his need for steroids but that’s a copout. Alex could have found someone else to buy the drugs from. He could have not done the drugs at all and instead worked harder with Zach. There is no excuse for him turning to Bryce for drugs.

What’s even more alarming is his interactions with Bryce didn’t stop there. He hung out with him on other occasions including helping Bryce break into his alleged father’s new home. Now, yes, Alex came to his sentences shortly after this interaction but he should have already known to stay away from Bryce.

It’s clear that Alex was hurting. Jess dumped him yet again for Justin and he felt vulnerable. But his vulnerability doesn’t excuse him going to his ex-girlfriend and best friend’s rapist to purchase drugs.

And then there’s the small fact that Alex Standall is the one who killed Bryce. There’s certainly a lot to unpack when it comes to his involvement with Bryce. The fact of the matter is, Alex didn’t go to the pier with Jess to kill Bryce. He went to support Jess. In fact, he even tried to help Bryce but in those final moments, Bryce sealed his fate by acting out and accusing Jess of setting him up — how I’m not sure.

I’d imagine the final season will explore Alex’s involvement and his feelings about it even more. And I’m sure his complex relationship with Jess will be involved in his journey.

So, is Alex redeemable? Well, that’s a discussion for another day.

- - -

Once again, Zach Dempsey got the short end of the stick — or so we thought.

The season started out with him being isolated from the rest of the tape squad. Though he didn’t sell Tyler out he certainly thought about it. He definitely wasn’t going to waste his time babysitting Tyler who may or may not act again. And yet, he still showed up at every meeting and played a part in covering up who really killed Bryce.

Zach actually had a lot of great moments this season. His relationship with Chloe was interesting and complex. There’s no denying that Zach hated Bryce and yet, he still offered to help Chloe raise Bryce’s child if she wanted to keep it. And he never once tried to pressure Chloe into getting an abortion even though she was carrying a rapists baby. I found myself applauding when Zach went along with whatever Chloe said regarding the pregnancy. If she kept it that was fine. If she wanted an abortion that was fine too. Zach definitely gets a gold star for that one — isn’t sad I have to praise common human decency?

I also enjoyed Zach’s brotherhood moments with both Justin and Alex. Zach needed friends just like everyone else did and I’m glad he found people he could rely on. His relationship with Alex seems esepcially special and I hope they keep their promise to be the kind of friends that tell each other everything.

Zach’s story becomes even more complicated when it comes to the Homecoming game and his altercation with Bryce. Bryce’s reaction to finding out that Chloe is friends (or maybe more) with Zach is alarming since he’s claimed and shown how into Ani he is. If he was so in love with Ani, why did he need to go after Zach like that?

Thanks to Bryce’s irrational anger, Zach lost his entire future that night. In fact, softie Zach was so pissed off he found Bryce and beat the shit out of him with a broken leg nonetheless! I was a bit confused as to how Zach found Bryce though. From what we saw, Jess was the only one who knew where Bryce was going to be after the game. And it’s not like Zach could have followed him there because he had to go to the hospital to get his leg check out. PLOT HOLES!

Honestly, I’m not really sure what to think of Zach. I will say I’m glad he acknowledged that he had no right being on Tyler’s picture wall at Monet’s. And yet, Tyler put him there for a reason.

Frankly, I think Zach needs some therapy too so hopefully he gets some help in season 4 too.

- - -

I can’t believe the internet is romanticizing Monty and his sexuality when actual angel Tony Padilla exists.

I honestly can’t understand why Monty and Winston are getting all the attention when Tony and Caleb exist — but then again, I do understand. Why would the world idolize an interracial gay couple when two white (or white-passing boys) are hooking up. Tony and Caleb deserve better from the world and from this fandom. They are the true icons.

Tony had a rough go this season. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to have to deal with his family’s deportation but the minute he walked into his home and they weren’t there I knew. What’s a little confusing about this plot, is the fact that his dad owned a legitimate business. The plot definitely felt like more of an afterthought but I do think it was important. It gave the show an opportunity to comment on a very real thing happening in our country and showed how it affects everyone. I’m sad Tony didn’t confide in Clay earlier and that it took Clay’s interrogation and digging for him to tell him. I really hope these characters learn to trust each other next season — they’ve all proved to be extremely good at keeping secrets.

Tony seemed to be the only character who adamantly did not want Bryce’s help this season. He was hesitant to take the money from Bryce for the Mustang especially after learning that Bryce’s father was the one who sold out his family to ICE. The only reason Tony is seen with Bryce again is because he made a promise to Hannah to see that everyone on the tapes listened to them. I found it just as shocking as Tony did that Bryce never listened to them, even when they were spread around the internet. That says a lot about his character.

Tony choosing to sit in the car with Bryce and listen with him says a lot about Tony’s character. I think Tony stayed with Bryce because a) he wanted to make sure he listened to all the tapes and b) he wanted to make sure Bryce wouldn’t destroy the tapes. I don’t think it had anything to do with making sure Bryce was going to be okay while listening. Also, Tony telling Bryce that all of Hannah’s tapes are his tapes was a serious mic drop moment.

Tony, like Clay, is so ride or die for his friends. The minute that Hillcrest moron grabbed Jess at the Homecoming game Tony was ready to fight. If it wasn’t for Caleb reminding him that he could go to jail Tony would have been down there throwing punches.

To me, Tony’s biggest flaw is his necessity to be the tough boy. He doesn’t allow himself to be vulnerable or open up to those he cares about. I hope this changes in the final season.

- - -

Bryce Walker was and will always be a rapist.

This season tried really hard to humanize Bryce, to show that he was capable of change but I wasn’t buying it. I don’t think he was ever remorseful for his actions, I think he only showed remorse when things started to affect his own life. I’ll talk more about that in a different post though.

Bryce is nothing more than a massive manipulator and a rapist.

However, I don’t think he deserved to die. Oddly enough, I think his death benefitted him because he no longer had to live with the fact that he would always be the rapist kid. Bryce deserved to live so that he would have to wake up every morning knowing he was a rapist. He deserved to live with the knowledge that he fucks up everything around him. Death was easy for him, living is where he truly would have suffered.

- - -

Montgomery De La Cruz was and will always be a rapist.

Monty was not a good person. He didn’t even attempt to change like Bryce tried to. He was simply a terrible human being. Giving him a troubled home life and having him suffer from internalized homophobia when he was gay does not excuse his behavior.

Monty’s relationship with Winston was a ploy to earn him sympathy and from the looks of it, it worked on some viewers. I’m sorry, thousands of gay individuals have troubled pasts and live with people who don’t accept them but they don’t go sexually assaulting people or beating up those they’ve slept with.

Monty is no better than Bryce; in fact, he might even be worse because he never even acknowledged that what he did was wrong.

If television has taught me anything, it’s never believe someone is dead unless you see a body. Not only did we not see a body, we never saw Monty get into an altercation in the jail. And there are never any hints that he could end his own life. The only source we have that Monty is dead is from some shady drug dealer. It’ll be interesting to the truth next season.

- - -

Now for the honorable mentions.

Mrs. Walker had a really interesting journey this season. The complexity of her character was astonishing. I liked that she didn’t make excuses for her son and that she understands that he was (and is) a bad person.

The scene with Chloe where Mrs. Walker tells her that Bryce should never be a father was so powerful. Look, Bryce is Mrs. Walker’s only chance at being a grandmother and she’d sacrifice that experience to save her grandchild and daughter-in-law a life of hell like the one she’s been leading.

When it comes to motherly love everyone always talks about how it’s unconditional. Mrs. Walker’s love wasn’t unconditional. In fact, it took her a long time to look at Bryce and not see the monster that she helped create. I did find her speech at his funeral about sometimes seeing him as a 9-year-old boy moving. I empathize with Mrs. Walker because no mother should have to bury her son. And in the same breath, I almost wonder if Mrs. Walker is relieved that she can finally be free now that all three of the abusive men in her life are gone.

I’m interested to see if she’ll make an appearance in the final season. What is her reaction to the news that Monty is the alleged killer?

- - -

If Mrs. Walker is interesting and complex, Mrs. Baker is a damn badass.

Her speech to the Sheriff about how much trouble they're going through to find Bryce’s murder was amazing. I literally stood up and applauded. Mrs. Baker isn’t taking any shit any longer. And she’s certainly going to take any chance she can to point out the injustices in the justice system

And she isn’t going to let Bryce Walker off the hook for what he did to her daughter and dozens of other girls. Mrs. Baker said it best “I wish you a lifetime of learning what sorry is.”

I really enjoyed the scene between Mrs. Baker and Jess. A part of me felt like Mrs. Baker was talking to Hannah through Jess. I think Mrs. Baker sees what Hannah could have been in Jess. I also enjoyed her scene with Clay. It was almost as if she was telling him to tell the police about her so that they would leave Clay alone. Mrs. Baker couldn’t protect Hannah, but she’ll do anything to protect Hannah’s friends.

- - -

 Finally, I want to talk briefly about Alex’s dad, Deputy Standall.

There’s no denying that he loves Alex. He would literally do anything for Alex — including jeopardizing his job as a deputy.

In the final episode he tells Alex that when he found him [Alex] after he tried to kill himself, he wished the bullet was in his head. That was a literal and figurative speech. Deputy Standall was admitting that he would take a bullet to protect his son — and he did just that.

Deputy Standall knows the truth. He is a good detective who followed the clues even when the Sheriff was convinced Clay was the murderer. In fact, Deputy Standall even goes off record to ask Ani where his own son was that night. Now, maybe this is a test to see if Ani is telling the truth (since he knows the answer) or maybe it’s a test to see how far she’s willing to go in lying. Either way, Deputy Standall knows the truth.

He knows his son killed or played a part in the murder of Bryce Walker. And yet, he’s willing to risk his career and livelihood, to protect his son from going to prison for the rest of his life.

It will be interesting to see what happens in the final season. Will the truth come out?

- - -

That concludes this long-ass character thoughts post. I do plan on making another post where I talk about what characters are worthy of redemption and why (I’ve teased it a bit here). I also want to make a post about my top 13 scenes from this season. We’ll see how that goes.

For now, let me know what you think of these characters. Do you agree with me? Disagree? Why?

Season 3 of Thirteen Reasons Why is streaming now on Netflix. Due to the shows graphic nature viewer discretion is advised. If you find the material uncomfortable please do not watch or find a trusted family member or friend to watch with you.

If you or someone you know is struggling please reach out for help.

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obsessivedilettante · 4 years

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Tagged by @idiosyncreant (this is literally like a month old, I’m sorry, I’ve been avoiding a lot of social media lately because of reasons)

Rules: We’re snooping through your playlist. Put your entire music library on shuffle and list the first 10 songs.

1. Sex, Love, Poetry (feat. Myka9) - Drunken Tiger

2. Darkwing Duck Theme - The Disney Afternoon Studio Chorus

3. Break the Walls - Fitz and the Tantrums

4. The Fall - Imagine Dragons

5. If You - Geeks

6. Great Expectations - Elbow

7. Boy On a String - Jars of Clay

8. We are the Champions - Queen

9. Lips on Lips - Tiffany Young

10. The Last - Agust D

Again, sorry it took me so long to do this! I’m not tagging anyone since I’m sure you’ve already done this a million times before, but it was fun having some “old school tumblr” distraction to plz feel free to send more such diverting things my way (just don’t expect me to do them right away ‘cause, uh... I’m a slacker who only has so many social media spoons).

(PS I’m on twitter more than anything else these days so if you really want, or don’t want but are just vaguely curious if I’m still alive, you can find me there @ODilettante)

#sorry i'm a bum #but here's a random sampling of music #i don't know if it says anything about me #but plz enjoy anyway #tumblr things

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hauntedfalcon · 5 years

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nonhoration replied to your post “Growing up Protestant in the 90s was wild I went to a couple...”

I went to a DC Talk CONCERT lmao this takes me back

DO YOU REMEMBER JARS OF CLAY? THAT WAS MY FIRST NOT-WITH-MY-PARENTS CONCERT

my friends sat down during “Boy on a String” and it was the pettiest thing I’d ever seen

#nonhoration

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fxlconsnest · 5 years

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gimme the good good Sam/Riley feelings (thanks for those btw)

send me a ship and i’ll tell you || ( sel. ) accepting

who hogs the duvetriley which is always a damn surprise when you take into consideration how he grew up in the middle of bum fuck nowhere georgia, where it gets dutch brick oven sweltering fucking hot, so hot you could breath in humid hot air. still doesn’t stop sam from waking up to rils, sprawled out over his chest, duvet tangled on his side. good thing sam runs hot.

who texts/rings to check how their day is goingriley, who blows up sam’s damn phone every other god damn minute when they’re apart, wants to know every banal thing that happened. but when they’re back together it’s sam tears his clothes apart, pressing up against riley’s skin like he’s trying to convince himself he’s here, that this is real. ( they spend so much time in the sky, like on the ground is suffocatingly, stiflingly small. they cope together. then without warning, sam copes. alone. )

who’s the most creative when it comes to giftssam knits and sews and DIYs like the best of them, which is always ceaselessly amusing to riley.

who gets up first in the morningriley could very well put the grinch to shame with how grouchy he is before midday. coffee sweetens him, and that’s how they spend their mornings, Riley’s head leaned on sam/s shoulder as they watch the light come in through the windows, paints them both in that soft gold light.

who suggests new things in bedit’s not a “hey sam let’s try new things” it’s more of riley pinning him down on the floor or sam hoisting him up without warning, riley wrapping his legs around his waist so they’re flush together, mouth hot at his neck. they can’t ever seem to shake loose that edge of desperation, like at any moment, this could all fall apart.

who fusses over the other when they’re sicksam, and riley hates ( loves ) that fusses. that sam checks his temperature every hour on the hour, cooks his food down to scratch, leaves sticky notes all over their place to remind him to take your fucking meds or so help me god riley.

who gets jealous easiestneither. you don’t hold down the line for each other out their, have each other’s backs and have time for petty things like jealously. they know what they are to each other with sheer-fire surety.

who has the most embarrassing taste in musicit’s the one time sam’s ever seriously considered leaving him, when he wakes up cotton mouthed and head ringing heavy, was the one time riley rigged up the speakers to blast dolly parton screeching about some dumb bitch named jolene.“ i’m leaving you. ” sam, rolling over, pressing the pillow over to his ear, and riley just presses himself up against him, that laugh echoing down under sam’s skin.“ you love me too much, sammy and you know it. ”( and, damn him, he’s right. )

who takes the longest to get ready“ sam stop fucking preening let’s go already you’re getting laid tonight. ”“ you can leave this house looking like whodunit what-for if that is your prerogative, but i was raised with a modicum of self respect, thank you. ”

who is the most tidy and organisedit’s like living with an overly tidy ghost, sam’s hardly set a cup down on the counter and riley’s already magicked it away. it’d be funny except it’s like this: in the moments where war doesn’t touch their lives riley washes dishes like trying to wash blood out from under his fingernails. sometimes he’ll wake up to it, the water splashing in the sink, steam pooled on the mirror and he’s scrubbing his hands raw, bloodied, and sam has to to draw his hands out from under the water, put his own between them. “ doesn’t ever feel like i’ll ever been clean, sammy. ”

who gets most excited about the holidaysriley moonlights as santa claus and sam takes about am million pictures, and sam strings up mistletoe up in corners just to have an excuse to pull riley toward by his belt loops and kiss him sweet. they push each other down down as they go skating and drink

who is the big spoon/little spoonsometimes it’s riley pressed against sam’s back and sam curled small. sometimes it’s sam carding his hands through the thickets of his hair. it depends on how the chips fall. who’s demons rear their heads on any given day.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sportssam, and it’s riley’s favorite thing in the world, to rile him up, but the victory of success still doesn’t beat the after party: “ i let you beat me. ” sam, kissing that spot on his throat that makes him shiver.“ likely fucking story. shut up and let me claim my prize. ”

who starts the most argumentsriley, he’s a good guy…. with a short fuse and sam’s never stood for any kind of bullshit not a day in his life, and isn’t gonna start now. riley raises his voice high and sam snaps back, low and hard and frustrated. it’s not always easy, for them to say the things they mean, but no matter what, no matter who storms out angry. they always come home.

who suggests that they buy a petthey talk about it all the time, what happens next, because there is a next after this, when you find love like this you hold it tight with both your hands. after they get out, they’re gonna get a dog, a big one, one sam can take out running. they’re gonna get rings, riley’s mapped out where he’s going to build their house, out someplace they can see the sky, the stars.

how they spend time together as a couplethey take leave always, always make one at least one road trip, riley ripping through road at speeds that are illegal but it’s fine. there’s something calming to them both about the swathes of wheat and corn as far as the eye out can see, just green below and blue up on high, windows all rolled down wind ripping in their faces. they hike, hold hands up in the mountains where no one sees but the trees and the breeze. sam watches for the birds and riley rolls up his ankles, skips rocks on the river and catch trout with his hands.

who made the first moveboth. it’s how it should always be, like to trees growing towards each other who’s roots are bound together under down where you can’t see, riley and sam crash together that night after their first test run under their wings. it’s this: lips, teeth, tongue, heat, licking the grit of the desert from their windswept faces under the weight of a million stars, shrouded in darkness.

who brings flowers homesam. he like he way riley brightens up. how he trims the stems careful, sets them in clay jars.

who is the best cookgeorgia boy that he is, riley can make a damn good peach cobbler, sweet as can be that melts warm on your mouth, but that’s just about it. the kitchen is sam’s domain thank you very much but he learned early on that if he didn’t keep those clever quick hands of riley’s busy they’d be all over sam like they ain’t nobody gotta eat round here. so sam cooks, riley chops, and one of them is always served up for dessert, later.

#displacedwidow #hadnothinghadhim #( riley. )#( airmail. )#we could've had it all !!!!!#this turned into a novel but who's surprised #highkey one of my favorite relationships for sam #up until he has the audacity to die #if I have to suffer with these feelings everyone else must as well thank u

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izanyas · 6 years

Text

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow (1)

Rating: M Words: 5,000 No warnings.

[Read from prologue]

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow Chapter 1

Lan Wangji did not enjoy watching the foreign disciples who arrived every year, though his presence was always required.

He stood next to his brother and uncle as the various delegations arrived. Only a few remained of those he had sat next to that very year, among them Nie Huaisang, who seemed to want to burrow deep into the soil. Wangji watched him rather than the faces of the many youths stepping through the gates of the Cloud Recesses; he knew not what to make of their admiration or lack thereof.

All of him ached to go back into seclusion. He stood with good grace the hand that Xichen put on his shoulder to quiet him, breathing in the cool and familiar scent of him.

"Preposterous," Lan Qiren said from beside them, his eyes fixed onto the loudest of the groups assembled in front of them.

They wore the purple of Yunmengjiang, silver bells hanging from their waists, knocking against scabbards and bows. None of those weapons were carved or decorated as finely as the Lan or Jin sects', but they seemed hardy enough.

"Uncle," Lan Xichen said quietly. "We have talked about this."

Lan Qiren seemed not to hear him. "Who does Jiang Fengmian think he is?" he declared anyway. His voice was soft enough not to carry over even to the closest Gusulan juniors, yet Wangji felt in it more disapproval than would be usual. "It is one thing for him to teach an omega, but to have him come here—"

Speaking ill of others behind their backs is prohibited, Lan Wangji thought idly.

"I have heard admirable things of young master Wei," Xichen interrupted, no doubt following the same train of thoughts. Lan Qiren seemed to regain some form of composure. "His cultivation level seems to be quite high for one so young."

"His cultivation level will not matter once he starts turning the heads of every one of our juniors."

"He is immature still."

"But for how long? And who will handle him once he comes to maturity, Xichen?"

This topic of conversation was too well-known to him by now for Wangji to listen very attentively.

His eyes met those of the only disciple of Yunmeng not swad in purple robes. The boy was of a height with the one next to him—and this one must be Jiang Wanyin, for his robes were of a fabric finer and thicker than anyone else's—and he only blinked once in Wangji's direction before turning away.

One of his arms was around Jiang Wanyin's shoulders. He said something, then laughed, his voice carrying loudly over the quiet of the Recesses.

Next to Wangji, Lan Qiren tensed and breathed between his teeth.

"It's emperor's smile! I'll give you a jar, so keep this between us, alright?"

The cloth keeping the wine stoppered was not enough to hide its smell. It wafted thickly over the nightly air, sweet and heady, and Wei Wuxian was grinning again, seemingly unbothered that Wangji had caught him out after curfew.

Out after curfew and carrying liquor.

"Drinking is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses," Lan Wangji said thinly.

"What isn't forbidden in the Cloud Recesses?" Wei Wuxian replied.

He looked nothing like Lan Wangji had expected.

It took until a few moments later, when Wei Wuxian followed his ridiculous reasoning to its end and decided that drinking atop the outer wall did not constitute rule-breaking, for Wangji to realize it fully. He watched in prickling irritation as Wei Wuxian threw back his head and drank from the sweet-smelling wine, and only then did he realize that it wasn't just the wine he was smelling.

Honey and apples and a smoked and woody scent. Wind brushed past Wei Wuxian's bare throat and carried those over to him softly.

All at once, years upon years of lessons whispered in Lan Wangji's ears:

They live in houses that smell of flowers, away from the commonfolk, because they are too valuable.

You must never hurt them. You must never touch them.

"What are you waiting for?"

Wangji looked at the boy in front of him and felt, for the first time in his life, entirely paralyzed.

Wei Wuxian was done drinking. Spittle shone on his mouth, wet with rice wine and with laughter, yet the curve of his lips seemed darker now. Condescending.

"I broke curfew," he said nonchalantly. "Are you going to fight me or are you too chicken for it, young master Lan? Your sword looks nice, it would be a shame to learn that it is only for show."

Lan Wangji's grip tightened around Bichen's pommel. "Come down from the wall and wait for morning outside," he said.

Even this much cost him; even this much seemed like violation, like anthesis to what he had been taught, to the sight of the Lan sect omega house far up the mountain whence the scent of blossoms came.

Wei Wuxian attacked first.

Later it would be the one thing Lan Wangji remembered: Wei Wuxian attacked first. He kneeled for a whole night on the cold floor of the jingshi, unable to find sleep even if he were to allow it to himself. Thinking again and again of the Yunmeng disciple's silhouette cutting against moonlight as they rushed at each other; recalling the clash of Bichen's blade against the clay jar, the spill of oversweet rice spicing up the night air sickly, thickly; Wei Wuxian's laughter as he tore the string from his own hair to block the sword coming at him.

He had been unarmed. Lan Wangji had swung his sword at an unarmed—

He knelt, silent and heaving, on the cold stone. His knees ached. The knot of anxiety at his throat ached more.

Those were the things Lan Wangji learned about Wei Wuxian in the weeks that followed.

He was unruly. He broke at least one Lan sect rule a day, shamelessly taking advantage of the Lan elders' unwillingness to punish him, making other disciples turn dark eyes to him wherever he went. He seemed not to care at all that such a cloud of outrage floated over his every step; he laughed, and lazed around, and physically nudged Jiang Wanyin whenever some bright idea caught him. Jiang Wanyin accepted the treatment evenly.

He was brilliant. Despite his immoral claims in class, despite Lan Qiren's ceaseless mockery of his character, despite how little time he spent actually studying, he was better than most of their yearmates. He moved with the same grace and power that accomplished cultivators did. He carried the rough sword at his waist like someone who knew how to use it.

He must be of a level with Lan Wangji.

He was carefree and shameless and the very opposite of what he should be. He was neither small nor waifish, and his skin was not soft but rough with sunlight, and his hands carried bruises and calluses from handling weapons. He stained himself with ink when he drew talismans. He sketched men and women in various states of hilarity in the margins of his work, showing them to Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin and all who would look and listen.

"Lan Wangji," Wei Wuxian called on the fifth day of his coming to the library pavilion for punishment. "I really admire you so much. I don't know how you can stand kneeling here and learning every day. I feel like my mind is liquefying. Hey, Lan Wangji, second brother Lan, Wangji-xiong—"

Lan Zhan.

He called Lan Wangji's birth name with not a shadow of self-consciousness. The beta chaperone sent to watch over them shuddered every time she heard him do it, her eyes averted as if to look at Wei Wuxian were too shameful to consider.

The beta should have been enough to watch over Wei Wuxian's punishment, but Lan Qiren insisted on Wangji being there because he had figured out, somehow, that Wangji was less hesitant to call Wei Wuxian back in order. Less hesitant to speak to him and lecture him.

Wei Ying, Wangji once called him in a moment of too-great frustration.

The beta watching them had inhaled in shock. Lan Wangji had felt his ears burn at his own slip-up. Wei Wuxian had looked at him in wonder and then smiled, bright and easy and so genuine, the sound of his laughter filtering through the open windows and, it seemed, chasing mist and clouds away.

Those were the things Lan Wangji learned about Wei Wuxian and wished he had not—

He liked to chew on wild grass stalks while leaning by the pond or under the shadow of a tree, Jiang Wanyin ever-present by his side.

He walked through the thick of dislike hanging over him with his head held high. He answered bark for bark every comment addressed to him. He gave back every stare.

Lan Qiren called him every insult he could bring out of himself as if it were his life mission. Shameful and disrespectful and his mother's son, and Wangji sat in his uncle's study next to a placating Xichen and thought, I would have liked to meet Wei Wuxian's mother.

There was something about Wei Wuxian that Wangji could not help but look for. A shadow, a spark, a gut feeling. Something laid underneath his skin, hidden behind his brash persona, something as cloying as the honeyscent that clung to the pavilion's walls after each of his visits.

The heaven-sent aura of destiny.

"You look like you want the Jiang senior disciple to come with us," Xichen told him.

Lan Wangji could not refute it as much as he wanted to.

Caiyi Town shone with mist and sunlight most days of the year, its waters clear and quiet, its townsfolk welcoming. Lan Wangji stood over a wooden bridge and followed with his eyes the dark spot that Wei Wuxian's robes made against so much clarity.

"What do you think of him?" Xichen asked with the same voice he used to ask, Wangji, what are you doing here?

(What are you doing all alone in a house filled with ghosts?

Wangji had spent so many hours in the dark of the empty cottage. His back braced against the wall and his small fingers wrapped around a piece of stolen clothing that still bore the seasalt scent of his mother.)

"I have no opinion of Wei Wuxian," Wangji lied.

He was breaking more and more rules. He was spending more and more nights kneeling upon the stone floor and chasing the sound of laughter from his ears.

"He is quite good, I hear." Lan Xichen looked down at Wei Wuxian's smiling face—he seemed in the middle of bargaining with a couple of salesmen, Jiang Wanyin by his side, Nie Huaisang laughing at them all from afar. "I watched he and young master Jiang spar yesterday evening. He is a fine swordsman, Wangji, and I think you would enjoy sparring with him too."

Lan Qiren would never allow it. Though he probably wished to see Wei Wuxian's pride split itself on a Lan blade, he would not allow any disciple of his sect to fight an omega.

No matter that the omega was armed this time.

It mattered not anyway: Wei Wuxian got to fight that very same day in front of many eyes. He leaped from boat to boat with the agility of a monkey, paddling with ease, fighting with delight. He caught ghouls with his bare hands when he was not swinging the rough sword at his waist. Its glare was bright red. It burned into Wei Wuxian's grey eyes every time he looked at it.

What is its name, Wangji asked him before he could help it, and he could not truly be surprised when Wei Wuxian answered, Suibian.

Wei Wuxian flew higher and quicker than any of them—alpha or beta, old or young. He saved Su She's life before Lan Wangji noticed that his life needed saving. He carried an unconscious man upon his sword, or at least tried to, until Wangji arrived to help.

Lan Wangji acted on impulse. He didn't know where to touch Wei Wuxian that would not be considered inappropriate; didn't know how to hold him without suffocating on the heightened scent of him, liquor-sweet on every gust of wind. He grabbed Wei Wuxian's collar without touching his neck.

"I'm almost out of air," Wei Wuxian rasped at him in false irritation, a grin still tugging at his lips.

Wet hair stuck to the sides of his face gently. The wetness over his brow was half-lakewater and half-sweat from exertion. Sunlight turned every drop on his skin to gold.

Lan Wangji felt his heart quicken in his chest and replied, "I do not like physical contact."

Wei Wuxian did not take well to being told what to do. Lan Wangji had known this for close to two months now. And though he did not often see Wei Wuxian break rules once the boy's month of punishment at the pavilion was over, he knew that it was only because Wei Wuxian had become better at not getting caught.

When he thought of it—and he often did, much too often—Wangji felt close to understanding why Wei Wuxian did what he did. Why he broke so many rules; why he acted so carefree when his life could not necessitate more care.

Lan Wangji had been taught that hurting an omega was the worst thing one could ever do. He had grown away from them, in the company of his beta brother and alpha uncle, never once talking to the couple inhabitants of the brown house at the peak of the mountain. He had read the words written on scrolls that made omega feel less human than godly.

You must never hurt them.

Yet Lan Qiren did, day after day, in his words and looks and demeanor. The same voice that had told Wangji that he was powerful enough to hope for the best betrothal, and for one or two of the rare and precious omega at least, spoke of Wei Wuxian like filth.

Wei Wuxian could dance all he wanted on the training field behind the pond. He could parry Jiang Cheng's unhesitant sword and Nie Huaisang's more careful one, fly over the both of them like fallen leaves on the wind… he would never win approval.

Lan Wangji wondered why the books made omega seem so otherworldly, when every time he looked at Wei Wuxian made something in him ache that was so very human.

He put his sword to Wei Wuxian's throat when he caught him out after curfew that night. His hand shook when he did it, his grip so light there and so tight over the handle of his umbrella, he feared one or the other would break.

He wanted to take it back. He wanted to hand the umbrella over instead, to let Wei Wuxian in despite the jars of wine he carried underarm, the spark of mischief over his face saying that he knew what he was doing. Lan Wangji felt some sort of nausea at resisting him like this; he felt queasy, brittle, watching raindrops glide along Bichen's blade and fall to Wei Wuxian's bare throat.

It was worth it for the smile that Wei Wuxian gave him.

He could not care about his own rule-breaking when they both fell over the wall. Wei Wuxian's jars of Emperor's smile had long since broke into pieces, their content spilling out, indiscernible from the transparent rain. Mud stained Wangji's robes and grass stuck to his wet hands, but all he felt and all he saw was Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian's arms around his body. Wei Wuxian's grin splitting his face in two. Wei Wuxian's scent in his nose rendered cooler by the downpour, like the first breath of air after swimming out of a lake.

The wooden switch hit Lan Wangji's back time and time again the following morning. He kneeled in the ancestral hall of the Gusulan sect, taking his punishment in complete silence, and the only bruise he felt was the one left by Wei Wuxian's fist clenched into his side. Clutching and shoving and pulling down, down, down.

"You should've punished me too."

Wangji had not come to the cold spring for healing. He seldom did. The bruises over his back were uncomfortable but ultimately meaningless, and not even the water of the spring would help mend them in quicker than a few days.

He had not come for cultivation either.

"You cannot be here," he breathed, not daring to turn around.

He heard Wei Wuxian move along the edges of the spring. Dead leaves broke under his footsteps and felt to Lan Wangji's acute hearing like glass. When Wei Wuxian appeared in the corner of his vision, having walked around half of the spring, he turned his back to him.

"Don't be like that, Lan Zhan."

"You can't—"

"No one's here, are they?"

A sound, sharp and sudden, like something breaking the surface of the pond. Lan Wangji jumped around at once with a cry swelling in his mouth.

Wei Wuxian looked up at him with a smile. His hand, which had just dropped a stone into the spring, closed gently.

"Those bruises look bad," he commented.

Lan Wangji felt Wei Wuxian's eyes roam along the blue-and-purple spilling over his shoulders like a brand. His breathing caught inside his chest as if someone had stoppered his throat.

"I asked your brother. He said the spring helped?"

Wei Wuxian seemed to be waiting for an answer; Lan Wangji could only nod stiffly.

"You should've punished me too," Wei Wuxian said again, oddly pensive. Lan Wangji had hoped that his looking away would relieve him; instead, he found himself aching anew with the face that Wei Wuxian pulled. "I'm the one who pushed you over."

I cannot beat an omega, was the appropriate response.

I cannot beat you, Lan Wangji almost said.

Wei Wuxian crouched by the edge of the spring. He dusted away some leaves before sitting, legs crossed, his elbow on his knee and in chin in his palm. He was still watching Wangji as if waiting for something; his face gleamed softly, lit from under by moonlight, the water's surface acting like a mirror.

Lan Wangji repeated, "You can't be here."

He expected Wei Wuxian to protest, to chirp some awful argument or another on why this was completely fine and appropriate, but the other boy stayed silent.

Wei Wuxian could not be here. No matter how much leeway Jiang Fengmian gave him, no matter how he had been raised that the man's own son had no hesitation to follow him so closely, to touch him and be touched by him, he could not be here. He couldn't sit here alone at night in the company of a half-naked alpha. He couldn't.

If Jiang Wanyin knew—if Lan Qiren learned—

"You have to leave," Lan Wangji said, looking down into the clear water, his heart pounding bruises onto his ribcage. "Wei Wuxian, you can't be here."

"I know I can't be," Wei Wuxian replied.

Lan Wangji inhaled shakily.

Silence spread over them, broken only by the wet sounds of the spring, until Wei Wuxian chuckled.

"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan," he said. Wangji saw from the corner of his eyes his legs unfold and his body slowly come upright once more. "I was out of line. I just wanted..."

Wangji had never seen him struggle with words before. Despite himself, despite the inappropriate and potentially life-destroying situation they were in, he met Wei Wuxian's eyes.

What do you want? he thought.

In that moment he felt ready to acquiesce to anything.

Wei Wuxian quirked a smile his way and said, "Nothing. I'll go."

He did not leave, however. He stayed as if frozen by the edge of the spring, water licking at his boots, dirt and grass staining his grey pants. Lan Wangji saw his throat move as if he were trying not to sob, though his eyes were entirely dry.

If Jiang Wanyin or Lan Qiren or anyone else happened to walk by and see them like this, the consequences would be grave. Lan Wangji may escape with no more than some shame and a profound taste of self-hatred, but Wei Wuxian's life would be forfeit in all ways but the literal. Not even Jiang Fengmian would suffer the rumor of an impure omega in his household.

No one would.

Lan Wangji knew this, and Wei Wuxian must know this, yet neither of them made to leave. Indeed Wei Wuxian's eyes only bore deeper into the spring, his knee flexing slightly, readying itself to jump.

Don't, Lan Wangji thought, and he didn't know which way he meant it.

All the air around them smelled of honey. It seemed the scent had turned to taste; Wangji had to swallow twice to make it go away.

Wei Wuxian's knee stopped jerking. Tension loosened itself out of him. He huffed a silent laugh, as if mocking himself, and said, "Good night, Lan Zhan."

"Good night," Lan Wangji replied, shaken all out of breath. "Wei Ying."

Lan Wangji did not see Wei Wuxian attack Jin Zixuan the following morning, though he heard of the brawl almost as soon as it happened. He was in his uncle's study when a fellow junior came running, shock and morbid excitement making him forget his manners. The omega hit young master Jin in the face—

Lan Qiren was too lost to his own fury to bother disciplining the boy on his words or behavior. His face turned so red with anger that Wangji thought for a second he would see steam erupt out of his ears, and he rose almost shakily, walking out of the room in something like a run.

No running in the Cloud Recesses, he had told Wangji and Xichen as they grew, alone and unwatched and oft left to their devices. Wangji remembered the grip of his brother's hand on his shoulder one time, the cool beta-scent of him turning even cooler. It had been the first time Lan Qiren had talked to them in days. Xichen had bowed, and smiled, and said nothing.

All activities at the Recesses seemed to halt for a few hours. Everywhere Wangji went he heard of Wei Wuxian, as disciples from all sects discussed the event, some smiling, some grimacing. He didn't see Jiang Wanyin. Huddled in a corner of a wide classroom, Nie Huaisang bore a worried expression.

"... can't hit him."

"Of course I didn't hit him back, Father. I'm not mad."

The voices came from one of the guest rooms. Wangji stopped in his tracks near the window of it, the rabbit he had been walking toward watching him curiously.

Jin Guangshan sighed audibly, a noise like wood touching wood filtering through the open blinds. He must have put down his sword. "A-Xuan," he said in a weary voice. "I'll ask you again, and I want you to be honest with me—do you want to marry Jiang Yanli?"

Wangji knew Jiang Yanli, though he had seldom met her. He knew the names of all the clan leaders and their families, all taught to him in detail by his uncle and great-uncle as he grew.

You're the heir, Wangji. You need to know all of them.

"A-Xuan," Jin Guangshan said impatiently.

"She's a beta," Jin Zixuan answered. Wangji heard him groan after this as if he had not meant to say it at all.

There was a moment of silence. "I know you are unsatisfied with her status," Jin Guangshan went on, placating now. "And her low cultivation level. I know you wanted something better, but she is a kind, bright girl. Marrying her would be immensely beneficial to Lanlingjin, and I am certain that you will grow to love her in time."

"I don't think I can," Jin Zixuan muttered.

Speaking this way to his uncle would have earned Wangji a few days of fasting. Jin Guangshan only sighed.

"What do you want me to do, then? This betrothal was arranged by your mother since before you were born. Jiang Fengmian has offered you a way out, but know that you will take it with no other prospect in sight."

"Can't you…" Jin Zixuan seemed to hesitate. Softly, he said, "I was thinking… maybe an omega instead."

Another silence.

"There is no unbetrothed omega of marriageable age in any of the main clans," Jin Guangshan declared. "And if there were, I dare say we would not learn so much as their name before they were sworn to one of sect leader Wen's heirs."

"But—"

"I will not have you long for some fairytale. The birth of an omega is too rare to wait after."

"Father!" Jin Zuxuan cut in, his young voice now more expressive than Lan Wangji had ever heard it. There came the shuffle of soft cloth as one or both rose to their feet. "Father, I was thinking, Wei Wuxian—"

"Do not finish that sentence if you want to call yourself my son."

Silence froze the air inside of the dormroom. It seemed to crystallize around Wangji's oddly heavy heart, prickling his eyesight with white spots. Belatedly, he remembered to breathe out, as quietly as possible.

When Jin Guangshan spoke again, his voice was kinder. "A-Xuan," he said, "I understand. Do not look away from me, I understand. You have spent the past few months in Wei Wuxian's company, much longer than when you met him in the past… This is why we all told Jiang Fengmian that this was a terrible idea," the Jin sect leader said ruefully. "I wouldn't be surprised if half of the disciples harbored some thought of wedding the boy, no matter how improper he is. Any omega will seem entrancing to one who has only glimpsed them before."

Jin Zixuan seemed to be at a loss of words. Lan Wangji bit the inside of his cheek till he tasted blood, shame and fury rolling through him in waves.

"Jiang Fengmian is a sentimental fool—he raised the boy all wrong because he was so blindly in love with his mother," Jin Guangshan said curtly. "Cangse Sanren was a blight upon omegakind, and she married a gutless beta who never put an end to her madness. Her son is turning out just like her. He has no shame, no manners, and he will bring nothing but embarrassment to whoever ends up wedding him. He hit you with his bare hands!" Lan Wangji almost heard the man shudder. "You will not think again of having anything to do with him. Am I understood?"

Silence.

"Am I understood?" Jin Guangshan said again, louder.

"Yes, Father," Jin Zixuan murmured.

Whatever fighting spirit had moved him before was gone.

"Come, now. If you do not want Jiang Yanli, I hear Wen Ruohan's alpha niece is a rare beauty…"

Lan Wangji walked away from the window in silence.

The rabbit he had glimpsed earlier, one of the two gifted to him by a dirt-marred and grinning Wei Wuxian, was gone. Wangji walked from the guest rooms to the cold spring and then to the library pavilion, crushing dewed grass under his feet, deaf to wind and birds alike. He felt no cold upon his skin; no exertion from the walk.

His feet took him to the wide gates of the Cloud Recesses without the need for thought. He had already heard news of Jiang Fengmian's arrival—he had flown in with Jin Guangshan earlier, the both of them cold to each other despite their usual cordiality. Jiang Fengmian must have run to where Wei Wuxian was kept as soon as he arrived.

He was there now, and so was Wei Wuxian.

There was no trace of the scuffle on him, of course. Jin Zixuan would never raise a hand on him, not even after being attacked. Unlike you, said a voice in Wangji's head, who held him at sword point, who felt his arms around your middle, who let him watch you bathe.

Wei Wuxian was talking to his sect leader, his posture more reverent and polite than Wangji had ever seen. The boy who would sit with spread legs or lean against Jiang Wanyin's shoulder now bowed in perfect form, fist and palm meeting firmly as he curved all of his back horizontally.

Some disciples ogling the scene scoffed. Some said, Finally. Some mocked that Wei Wuxian was now playing the part of omega.

Lan Wangji watched Wei Wuxian rise again and thought that what he had just seen was not make-believe, but deep respect.

Ice tickled his nose when Xichen emerged from a door not far and gestured at him to approach.

"Uncle has been looking for you," he told Wangji, ushering him inside.

"Wei Ying is leaving us," Lan Qiren declared without preamble as soon as Wangji was within sight. Distractedly, he gestured to both brothers to sit. "As it should be! What folly could possibly have taken Jiang Fengmian, to think that this boy would do well here…"

"Young master Jiang will remain for the rest of the year," Xichen said lowly. He served tea into three cups with one steady hand. "He is not happy. I hear young master Wei was the one who convinced him to finish studying here instead of going back to Yunmeng as well."

"There is no need to trouble yourself with respect, Xichen," Lan Qiren spat. "Jiang Cheng has obviously caught some of his father's madness. Oh, I will work on righting that wrong…"

Lan Qiren spoke for a while. If not for the lead that seemed to weigh down Lan Wangji's stomach, he could almost believe that this was a day just like any other. That he would patrol around that night looking for a sneaking shadow, for the sound of clay hitting clay as Wei Wuxian carried in his favored wine. For a hint of honeyscent on the wind.

Dusk had come when Wangji exited the study. The crowd gathered around the gate was long gone, and so were Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan, no doubt on the way back to their respective holds.

So was Wei Wuxian.

"I dare say we shall find some quiet again at last," Lan Qiren huffed, descending the stairs in direction of the mess hall. "With any luck, we'll never hear of Wei Wuxian again."

Lan Xichen's hand rested at Wangji's elbow in a strange measure of comfort. Wangji looked at the grey sky and thought of equally grey eyes.

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#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #fic: and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

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guiltytuning · 7 years

Text

yohariko au. Witch!Yohane/Prince!Riko. based on this post. Part 1.

She was almost finished making her latest pouch: rosemary, thyme, angelica, and sprinkled with pepper. The final touches were the blue lace agates she had buried underneath the soil in a clay pot. Reaching down to the bottom shelf where she placed the pots, she grabbed the ones containing the blue lace agates and dug out the stones from their hiding place. She cleaned the dirt off it and balanced the stones in her right hand. Then she closed her eyes, calling forth the help of the healing stones before she plopped them gently in the pouch. Grabbing a string of twine from one of the shelves, she looped it around the pouch’s entrance and tied it up.

A sound of distant knocking nearly made her tumble into a jar of dried peaches directly beside her elbow. Stashing the pouch in the folds of her dress, she quickly blew out the candle and felt her way through the darkness until she reached the ladder and climbed up to open the cellar door.

She had just finished pushing a cabinet over the cellar door when someone knocked again on the front door, this time more persistent.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m coming,” she called out, making sure that the cabinet had completely hidden the outlines of the secret door before she headed over to open the door.

Squinting against the sudden harsh sunlight, it took her a moment to see the stern-looking woman - an official - standing in her doorway. She was tall with her blond hair tied up in a high ponytail, an expression of bored distaste etched on her features. Two other women stood behind her on either side.

“Are you Yoshiko Tsushima?” she asked, her voice lilted with what could only be aristocratic elegance.

“Yeah, I am,” Yoshiko said, eyeing the woman’s uniform now. She wasn’t just a village official. The white feather brooch clipped above her breast indicated her status: a commissioned officer, practically a step below royalty. She could feel her heart thump faster in panic. “What is it, ma’am?” she asked politely, lowering her head in respect.

When she looked up again, she could see the woman frowning at something. Following her line of sight, Yoshiko realized that she was staring at her dirt-caked hands. She fought the urge to hide them behind her back.

“I’m sure you know about extra vigilance that the Crown is taking to rid its holy land of witches,” the woman said plainly, and Yoshiko fought to keep the tension away from her hands. “Recently there have been reports of witch activity stirring up in this town. Do you know anything about this?”

Yoshiko could barely breathe but she managed to fake a thoughtful look. “Not that I can think of, ma’am. Though I’ll be sure to keep an eye out,” she added on a little too quickly. The woman narrowed her eyes and for a brief second, Yoshiko thought she was going to be outed and burned right there on the spot.

“Don’t think you’ll get away with lying to me,” the woman said, her voice low and the sudden coldness prickled goosebumps on Yoshiko’s skin. She shivered.

“Awh Eli, don’t be too harsh on her,” one of the other official said. She was dressed in similar attire and blond with a distinct loop in her hair. “She’s such a cute and harmless little thing.”

Yoshiko bit her tongue to keep from retorting back that she was far from cute and harmless if she wanted to be, thank you very much, but it must have shown on her face because the looped-hair woman was grinning at her humorously.

Eli huffed and spun around on the heel of her foot. “Mari, I was making sure we were covering every stone.” Though her tone was argumentative, it was clear her interrogation was over. The three women were walking away down the dirt path now, and Yoshiko let out a sigh of relief. She closed the door firmly, learning her back against it and closing her eyes as she thumped the back of her head against the wooden door.

This was bad. This was very bad. She needed to get out of the town as soon as she could. She had heard of this happening - rumours of supposed witches captured and publicly burnt on the stake while townspeople rallied against them. She hadn’t thought that they would come here - the dinky riverside town of Uchiura. But now with commissioned officers roaming the town, it was sooner or later until they found her out.

Though leaving immediately would have bad consequences too: Eli would definitely realize the true reason for her departure and send people after her. She was stuck.

Someone knocked on the door again.

Startled, Yoshiko leapt forward with a yelp, nearly collapsing on the floor.

“Yoshiko? Are you okay?” a familiar voice from the other side of the door called out concernedly.

She opened the door, half angry but mostly because she had let the fear and paranoia get to her. “Zuramaru,” she greeted, glaring at the shorter girl who shrunk beneath her look.

“I - I um, came by for the pouch,” Hanamaru said, hands held tightly in fists against her chest. “You remember? For my grandmother.”

“Yeah,” Yoshiko said, deflating as the anger whooshed out of her. “It’s done.” She reached up in her skirt to untie the pouch from the stash on her thigh. Holding up the small brown hemp bag, she thrust it at the girl. “Here.”

“Thank you!” Hanamaru exclaimed, reaching forward with both hands to take the bag. She reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out two silver coins, plopping it in Yoshiko’s outstretched palm.

“No problem,” Yoshiko said, smiling despite herself. “Put it under your grandmother’s pillow and she’ll be better within a night’s rest.” She paused for a second, remembering her current situation. There were plenty of people who knew what Yoshiko was - Hanamaru being one of them. “Listen, Zuramaru, have you seen commissioned officers making rounds in the village?”

Hanamaru frowned at her, tilting her head curiously. “No? I haven’t seen any of them. There are commissioned officers?”

So Yoshiko was one of their first stops - if not the very first one. That made sense, since her home was right on the outskirts of the village. But that meant that they were making their way into town today. She didn’t have very much time until someone pointed their finger in her direction.

“They’re looking for witches,” Yoshiko said grimly without cutting corners. “I - Hanamaru, you can’t say anything.” It was almost a plea.

The girl tightened her hand around the pouch - an evidence of witchcraft, nodding rigidly. “I won’t, Yoshiko. I promise, zura.”

Yoshiko nodded back. “Yeah you better not, or else Yohane will come after you!” she said, trying to be lighthearted again.

Hanamaru laughed. “Yeah, yeah, Yoshiko. We’ll see about that,” she said, rolling her eyes. She waved a goodbye to Yoshiko, promising one last time not to tell anyone, running back home with the pouch hidden in her shirt pocket.

When Hanamaru left, Yoshiko wiped clean her dirt-stained hands. She grabbed a few more coins from her storage and put them in a coin bag, taking a hand-woven basket from the corner of the one-roomed house before leaving.

If she had to leave at a moment’s notice, she had to be ready. And that meant stocking up.

By the time Yoshiko was at the market, it was already swarming and busy with crowds of people, which helped her with fitting in with the crowd but also made it easy for a thief to steal something from her.

She approached the fresh fruits first, looking through the apples while attempting to strike a lower price from Dia Kurosawa. It was unfortunate that the younger Kurosawa wasn’t in charge today, because she always caved to Yoshiko’s relentless haggling. Dia, however, was completely immune to any sort of bargaining. Yoshiko ended up buying a dozen apples for full price. “I feed the horses sometimes,” Yoshiko lied with a smile to anyone who was watching. Definitely not preparing for a long journey.

She was just about to move onto looking for the butchery when someone ran into her from behind with such a force that she was knocked over. “Ah!” She crashed forward into the body in front of her, managing to stop her fall but her basket tipped over and apples spilling out onto the ground.

“Damn it!” Yoshiko exclaimed, bending down to pick up as many apples as she could. Already she could see a young boy snatching up one of the rolling apples and running away while shouting, “Mama! Mama! I got something!” I paid full price for that! Yoshiko wanted to yell at him.

“Stupid!” she hissed, reaching out for another apple only to snatch her hand back as a foot came down unknowingly on it, almost stepping on her fingers.

But then there was someone else kneeling down in front of her and grabbing the apples too. Daylight robbery! she wanted to say, until she realized that the other person was placing the apples back in her basket. When the remaining ten apples had been safely secured back in her basket, albeit a little dirty, Yoshiko bowed her head down at the other person. “Thank you! I’m sorry about the accident, I just have really terrible luck sometimes - honestly it’s a curse.”

“No need to thank me,” the other person said, now standing and holding a white-gloved hand out to Yoshiko. Yoshiko took the hand gently, and was pulled back into a standing position. “Though it’s unfortunate two of your apples got destroyed in the process.”

“Yeah...,” Yoshiko said, trailing off as she looked at the other girl. Now that she was really looking at her, Yoshiko couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Long flowing chestnut-coloured hair and elegant features shaped in a kind smile - Yoshiko could feel her heart beating faster. She had never thought that there existed anyone so beautiful before. Yoshiko had never seen her around before, so she was definitely from outside Uchiura. “It - it was for the village horses,” she said feebly.

The girl laughed, a soft chimerical sound. “Well, then - how about we buy some more for the horses? I’m not even sure if a dozen would have been enough, considering how hungry some of them are.”

“Y-yeah, that sounds like a good idea!” Yoshiko said, aware that her face must have been flushed red. She couldn’t remember why she was at the market buying a dozen apples in the first place. All she knew now was that she might have a chance to spend time with this gorgeous girl in front of her, and that was making her feel weak in the knees. “I’m, um, Yoshiko by the way.”

The girl smiled at her softly. “That’s a nice-sounding name. I’m Riko.”

Yoshiko suddenly realized the attire that Riko was wearing: fanciful ruffs at her neck and a tailored suit and pants dyed in a dark shade of red. The clip in her hair was definitely made of gold, and she was wearing a golden feather brooch - aristocracy. Yoshiko looked around furtively to see almost half of the market whispering and pointing at them as they passed. Well, not at them. They were pointing at Riko.

She wasn’t just any passing aristocratic girl. She was Riko Sakurauchi, the royal crowned Prince of the country.

#my writing #yohariko #love live #love live!#love live! sunshine!!#yoshiriko #au #eli ayase #i didn't expect these cameos but they happened #feel free to ask me to @you/tag you for the next installments of this #witch!au #mari ohara #hanamaru kunikida #why did i write this much

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