#If only the Cloud Recesses was a real place

[writingoddess1125]

Yes Buggy and his hot wife are Roger and Jessica Rabbit, but if I may submit this comparison to the council:

✨Buggy and his wife are The Grinch and Martha May Whovier✨

Oh It Is ON!

In the spirit of the Winter Holiday Spirits! We are doing a Christmas Spin on My Effect Series!

So get you a egg nog with 90% rum maybe some holiday 'cigarettes' sit back and enjoy this clusterfuck idea! 🍃 🚬

P.S IM REALLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO ITS PROBABLY ALL OVER THE PLACE! ENJOY!

The Grinch and Martha May Effect 🎄

If you like my shit, support me on Ko-Fi because recession!

Link to Main Masterlist

• This Crusty Bastard has had the heart of the most beautiful women in the world.

• And didn't even realize it-

• You had all met on Gol D Roger's ship- Buggy being a snot nosed apprentice with his gaggle of friends- While you being one of the few girls on the ship was a cup bearer for your father. Silvers Rayleigh.

• This made you incredibly off limits to all, Sheltered by a life of luxury your father provided as your only real 'job' was to fill his cup. Even Gol D Roger the famed Captian spoiled you in cute dresses and expensive bows.

• Turning you into the Doll of the Oro Jackson.

• A Princess Wrapped in Silver and Gold

• You still remembered the first day you ment him-

• Both of you 13 years old, fresh faced kids still needing the guidance of adults.

• You'd snuck off from your normal areas, wanting to explore the ship some more. That's till you saw a boy- His face covered in what seemed to be gunpowder as he filled homemade bombs with total care.

• His blue hair peaking out of the red hat and drawing you to step a big closer to get a better look.

• The Tull of your sparkling dress catching the corner of his eye as he spun around quickly holding a knife out.

• Then, Ocean eyes met Your own and time seemed to slow. Ever so slightly- Your cheeks warming as you gave a soft smile.

• "Hello" Your little voice slipped out, Buggy stating at you with unsure interest. A crooked smile on his lips as he greeting you quickly- "H-Hi!"

• "Is something wrong with your nose? It looks kinda funny" Buggy glares hard at you, making you blink in question at his reaction.

• Buggy covering his face, his ocean eyes starting to cloud with tears like a storm eyed he stared at you. "Whats so funny about my nose!? Huh!"

• "Well don't get angry- I don't mind. I think its cute. Im sorry if i offended you" You smile so sweetly, feeling bad for making his sad as Buggy felt his face start to glow.

• "You think.. My nose is cute?" He questioned, making you nod honestly. He giggled into his hands, a high pitch squeaky laugh that made you smile and your heart flutter.

• "Whats your name?" He grins at you, Hearing you actually want to know about him. "Buggy! What about you pretty girl?" Your face flushing at his words.

• "I'm-"

• "(Y/N)!" You heard your name being called before you could speak, recognizing the voice of your father.

• "(Y/N)- That's such a pretty name.. Will I see you again?" Buggy asked, his eyes sparking at such a chance. Your delicate hand reaching forward and tucking a strand of his blue hair back into his hat. "I will try"

• And try you did. For a year the two of you would meet, talking on the deck of the ship for hours till you had to sneak away again. Buggy even using his Chop Chop abilities to help you get back to your room.

• It was tragic to say, but you'd never get a chance to see Buggy for many many years after your 14th birthday- Your Father sending you to an Island to keep you safe as you entered your teens.

• The disbanding of the Roger Pirates aiding in this as well-

• The death and heartache Seeming to follow you as you found yourself handing in the hands of Sir Crocodile.

• Crocodile having had an interest to whoo you for years- as he too had met you on Gol D Roger's ship, finding you the only person more then suitable to be at his side.

• You had never truly accepted his advances, Despite his power, status and more. He didn't have your heart, and you wouldn't give him any part of yourself in compensation.

• Decades it had been like this, still the girl wrapped in silver and gold. Hoarded like treasure for everyone to admire, however nothing more.

• But it seemed the tides were beginning to change- After Crocodile time in Impel Down- as well as the formation of the Cross Guild- You would meet your blue haired friend once again. Just in a unique Flashy way

• AKA by his head being punched off by Crocodile and accidently flung into your waiting chest.

• "(Y/N)?-" He mumbled against your bust, your cheeks flaring deep crimson as he floated his head up to lock eyes with your flushed face.

• He got his ass beaten for that by Crocodile of course-

• But for you it was like your heart was Kickstart again!

• At the Cross Guild, you'd always attend. Crocodile assuming it was because you were warming up to him, But in truth it was to see Buggy-

• The two of you talking to each other constantly. He was so fascinating to you-

• Like you two were children again falling in love- Sitting out under the stars talking for hours. You tucking strands of his blue hair back into his hat, him fixing any Imperfections on yohr dresses as you sat next to him. Which often lead to Buggy giggling into his gloved hands while turning away from you

• You accepted him as he was, and adored him for it. You loved his mind, his passion, even his laziness and lewd humor.

• As time went on, you noticed the same for him. How he would ask you YOUR interest, what things YOU actually liked.

• Something no one had asked you since you were a child. Most just assuming your taste and interest.

• Hell when he came for meetings he would bring you something you'd actually want. Not just shiny things to make you look more valuable.

• "Hey (Y/N)!" Buggy cloaked towards you excited as he held out a old dirty crate to you. "I remeber you said you really liked weird plants, so I found these old books and scientist-y samples of the weirdest! Hope you like them!"

• You'd almost cried at the gift, so overfill with you you hugged Buggy. Before spending hours going through the crate and organizing it all to your liking.

• However with the sweets, came the sours...

• There had been countless times you'd walk into the Guild and see Buggys face. Beaten and bruised- How Crocodile and Mihawk kicked his ass as their own personal stress relief or just to show dominace.

• It broke your heart.. truly- Buggy humiliated like that infront of everyone time and time again... You would try to comfort him after the meetings but he would just run away- You swore you saw tears in his eyes a few times.

• You'd want to many times to have him run into your arms, so you could whisper how good of a man he is and deserving so love.

- It had been a particularly festive day in the Guild Hall, Crocodile dressing in a nicer suit as better food was served and fancy alcohol was served. You even being gifted a dress by the Desert King himself to wear today, you didn't refuse but felt rather uncomforble at how attentive he was acting with you.

And uncomfortable that he had purposely sat Buggy so far away from you..

As dinner was being served, Crocodile stood up from his seat next to you. Slapping his hand on the table to gather everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement-" Crocodile voice boomed through the room, you glancing up as the hook handed man gestured for you to stand. Which you silently did-

Oh No...

"(Y/N)- Daughter of Silvers Rayleigh. A women of greatness and deserving of only the finest of riches"

No...

"I ask for your hand- I swear I will give you all the wealth you desire"

Please No...

"From Riches, Silks and even the One Piece if your little mind wishes for it"

NO!

"Will you Marry me?"

Something inside you just snapped. Staring at Crocodile face that had the crooked cigar hanging from his lips.

Crocodile taking your silence positively as he handed you a velvet box with a massive diamond ring inside of it.

You stared at the ring box that had been placed in your glove hands and felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing...

Before A fire of rage filled your insides-

"We- We aren't even dating!-" You shouted, everyone looking to yoh in shock as you looked around wildly.

"What makes you think I want to stay by your side!? You were just ment to protect me not use me as a Scudo Girlfriend! I'm not yours nor will I ever be!-" Crocodile face starting to turn red, his eyes glancing around him before setting on you with a harsh glare.

"So I-I can't accept this" You finally hissed out, bright red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. Everyone in the Guild Hall staring at you in total shock.

"Besides My Heart... Belongs to someone else-" Crocodile eyes widen as he clenched his hands in rage. You handing the ring box back to him delicately, before turning to look at Buggy who had been picking his nose diassociating heavily at the dramatics. Only coming back to reality when he saw everyone was staring at him-

Buggy stares confused, 'Why are you all looking at me?' He looked behind himself first, Then around to see who you could be talking about, that had your heart. Realizing quickly he was alone and you actually ment HIM!

"Wait Me!?"

• After such a stunning yet shocking reveal, Crocodile cut you lose. Feeling you embarrassed him infront of everyone- Which had been the greatest day of your life!

• As you fly into Buggy's (Who got beaten senseless once again) arms. Who accepts you happily into his life-

• Frolicking away to his Circus Themed Ship in what can only be described as total Joy!

• "HAHAHAHAHA I WIN!!" He yells out, holding you in his arms as he flips off Crocodile once more and holds you in his arms.

• You adore his Flashy Crusty ways, the way he weirdly cackled and utter lack of emotional control.

• Oh How you love your Crusty Clown!

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #x female reader #the grinch #one piece buggy #op buggy #buggy #buggy x wife reader

[least-carpet]

No, no, but now I want to read your ideas about how wwx is set to an implosion in 1-3 years. How do you get him there? In canon, he needed jyl's death, the wen siblings death, the world against him

Another neglected anon! Sorry for the late response and happy new year!

I actually think what we saw in terms of Wei Wuxian's devolution after Jiang Yanli's death qualifies as an explosion rather than an implosion, i.e. the force was directed outwards from the centre and killed whoever was in the blast radius. I don't think he'll do that.

I do think we see him implode earlier than that though, in the post-war period, where he drinks excessively (to the point that Wen Qing comments on it), he's unreliable, his moods are volatile, he self-isolates, etc.

To be fair, a certain amount of this is related to not having a golden core and practising demonic cultivation. However, I also tend to read it as a reaction to his war trauma, since self-medicating is a pretty normal response to surviving horrifying events?

Let me be clear that I don't think he always used alcohol like this—I think his partying as a teenager became a problem in adulthood. I think that was always a risk for him for a variety of reasons (we know that he survived becoming a homeless orphan and doesn't remember big chunks of his childhood, which tends to indicate trauma) but I don't think we see it happen until after the war, during which he saw and did some buckwild shit. I also don't know that he ever developed a physical dependence on alcohol, just that his post-war alcohol use looks pretty dysfunctional given its context and all the other choices he was making.

So. Given what we know about:

his behaviour in the post-war period;

his behaviour immediately post-resurrection, specifically that we see him desperately trying to avoid people, places, and situations that make him remember traumatic events from his first life;

his partner, specifically that Lan Wangji doesn't have a real barometer for what "normal" drinking looks like, and also has a tendency to enable Wei Wuxian;

where his partner lives, the extremely calm and controlled Cloud Recesses, where everything is on a strict schedule, therefore predictable and regular, and many activities Wei Wuxian likes are just not allowed—

We have a scenario where a person who thrives in exciting situations and likes working under pressure is living in place that is quiet, regular, and predictable. He is not supposed to drink there, but has a spouse who's willing to smuggle in as much alcohol as he wants. He has thus far throughout the story distracted himself from processing a long series of very traumatic events, and has only been willing to be in relationship with people who can't or won't hold him accountable. All of those feelings are waiting to explode out of the closet he's stuffed them in and fall on his head. And now he's often in a place where there's nothing fun to do...

Like, I think that it might take a minute, since the euphoria of new love will at least provide, you know, some positive feelings, which are their own distraction. (Plus all the sex! And night-hunting!) And Lan Wangji has many qualities that make him a real support to Wei Wuxian, and that might get him through that inevitable post-honeymoon period of quiet where all his feelings pop out and come for him. But I don't think that's going to be a fun experience for anyone?

TL;DR I think eventually he will have to stop running away and actually think about what he's lost, and we know what he does with Bad Feelings he doesn't want (excessive drinking, avoidance, withdrawal from loved ones). Grief and shame are gonna get you every time!

#anon asks #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs + #least-carpet thoughts #asks

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Practice

While it was true that Wei Ying and Lan Zhan had been travelling for the past two or three months to lands far away from the Cloud Recesses, neither of them had expected to find many changes in the place and the way it functioned upon their return.

The Lan sect rarely implemented new things and was resistant to giving up any of the old ones - so it was no wonder that the two were overcome with confusion upon walking through the gates of the Cloud Recesses and finding the junior disciples holding some very noisy dolls bundled up in blankets like newborns.

Sizhui, Jingyi, Zizhen and a few of their other friends had gathered underneath the large tree overlooking the bunny field, holding these dolls and talking amongst themselves not unlike a bunch of fresh mothers.

Some were feeding their dolls using little bottles with talismans on them, others rocked them to sleep, and the rest played and cooed at them like they were real children.

"What's going on here? What are you guys doing?" Wei Ying asked, at last, overcome with curiosity. "I don't remember a parenting class being taught around here."

"It was Zewu-Jun's idea." Sizhui responded, tucking his doll better in its blankets before continuing, "He argued that parenting and caring for others are important life skills we should be taught alongside cultivation and rules. So, we were given these dolls and instructions on how to care for them. For added realism, the dolls have talismans etched into them that simulate crying, laughing and other behaviors a real baby would have."

"And some babies are a lot worse than others." Jingyi whined, rocking his doll to his chest with the expression of an exhausted new mother that hadn't slept within the past several... lifetimes. "I don't think I'm ever going to have children if it means I only get to sleep when I close my eyes to blink."

Wei Ying laughed, taking his usual seat among the gaggle of juniors, his husband joining him a little a-ways. "How come you weren't paired up? Babies are usually a two-person project."

"That's what I said!" Jingyi replied, barely stopping himself in time from throwing his baby up in the air with a frustrated gesture. "But apparently we need to exercise independence and self-sufficiency... or whatever the hell else Zewu-Jun said."

"Jingyi, language." Sizhui chided, an apologetic look towards his seniors.

"I don't want to hear it, I'm too tired to care about the rules."

"Young parents are exempt from most rules." Hanguang-Jun intervened, "However, it is not advisable to curse in front of children."

"Yeah, they pick it up immediately! For example-"

"Let's not give examples." Sizhui cut in, knowing good and damn well senior Wei was about to tell an embarrassing story about him as a toddler.

Wei Ying snickered, ruffling Sizhui's hair. "Okay, no examples. So, how's fatherhood treating you? Since it seems like Jingyi got the short end of the stick here..."

"It's fine, my baby is quite calm and-"

"Sizhui's being modest for no reason, he's actually mastered this whole thing." Zizhen added as he attempted to burp his own baby. "He's so in tune with that doll, he knows when it's gonna go off crying and exactly what to do to calm it down!"

Sizhui blushed at the praise. "I have always been good with children, so it's not a big deal to me..."

Lan Zhan smiled a proud, rare smile towards him as he took Zizhen's doll to help, a little burping sound leaving it seconds later, and giggle following. "You must be patient. If you move too harshly, the baby will throw up."

"My, my, Hanguang-Jun is daddy material, who would've known!" Wei Ying teased, laughing at his husband's red ears. "Maybe we should get one of these babies too, you know, for practice."

"Wei Ying."

"Or we could always make our own~"

Jingyi sighed loudly as his baby began screeching. "Senior Wei, I slept 5 hours in the past three nights, please don't be shameless in front of me right now."

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #lsz #ljy #oyzz

[thedelicatearcher]

Could you do a katniss x hyper fem!reader where both katniss and reader are kids and katniss is trying impressive the reader by climbing a tree or something?

Take your time ^^

thank you for the request!! this is soooo sweet. i really loved writing this, i love katniss so much

young!katniss everdeen x hyper fem!reader

katniss everdeen spends most of her time with her dad in the woods, learning to hunt, climbing some trees, and setting some traps here and there. from little birds and squirrels to the extremely rare deer, the father and daughter duo pride themselves on never returning home empty-handed.

you could say the woods are little katniss' happy place, a spot where she feels she isn't being observed, free from judgment, able to unashamedly be herself alongside someone she really loves. she doesn't mind that they have to be really quiet and sneaky to go down the unelectrified fence, being alert and walking many miles. these small sacrifices are worth it for the chance to swim her worries away in the hidden lake, savoring the cool embrace of water on her skin

but when she's not there, you can find her daydreaming about her beautiful best friend. the way you look at katniss, as if there's no one else in the world when she's recounting yesterday's adventure. the way your pink dresses make your lips stand out even more, leaving poor katniss speechless and unable to form a thought. the way you cherish your bows, yet don't hesitate to adorn katniss’ braid with your favorite one, because it makes her look “more beautiful than a garden full of roses,'' - your words, not hers.

katniss would love to take you to the woods with her and her dad, but she is afraid you're going to say no. “she's too pretty and i can't have her getting her little bows and dresses dirty like my clothes,” was the excuse katniss gave herself when deep down she knew the real reason was that she's afraid of your rejection. with an angst-clouded mind, she told herself she couldn't bear it if you ever got a hold of her feelings and decided you wouldn't want anything to do with her anymore.

“i'm not in love with her, i just really love spending time with her but that's what friends do,” katniss would say to madge, one of her only friends, denying her feelings as she felt herself getting shy and flustered, hoping her close friend wouldn't notice the enormous crush she had been harboring on you. “do you like spending as much time with me as with her?” madge would tease her playfully as katniss felt her whole face burn in embarrassment. 

every morning after waking up, as she is eating breakfast, nonstop thoughts about you would fill her mind. “will she smile at me today? will she grab my hand? is there something i can do to impress her?” were questions katniss hoped her tiny piece of bread could answer, saving her roasted squirrel to eat in school later and share it with you. 

katniss got very giddy and excited as her mom put her hair in her signature braid, praying to the gods that maybe today will be the day where you see her in another light. and maybe they finally listened to her.

as soon as you saw her in school, you ran to her excitedly, leaving your backpack behind and grinning like a mad man. you hugged her like a koala bear, letting katniss spin you around for a few seconds and holding you tighter as this was the first time you saw each other in years. this was your daily ritual: hugging like a married couple when katniss arrived at school, sitting together in every class possible, talking in hushes as your teacher explained another chemistry topic that you won't apply anywhere if you don’t go on and work in the mine, sharing food at lunchtime, hanging out during recess usually sitting closely together on a free bench or having katniss running around and tiring her little full-of-energy self as you watched her attentively, and finally walking home together to your respective houses. you were inseparable.

but today was different, you were holding eye contact longer, occasionally batting your eyelashes at her and twirling a strand of your hair with a finger. and of course, katniss noticed this, clouding her mind with the thought of you reciprocating her feelings, feeling excited and anxious at the same time. she has always considered herself bad with words, unable to express her feelings, so how can she tell you that she likes you? 

and that's how katniss ended up climbing a random tree in the school’s backyard trying to impress you. it happened all of a sudden; her mind didn't even take a second to ask herself if it was a good idea. as you were touching her arm for the fifth time in three minutes, katniss simply said “look at this,” ran to the closest tree and started climbing it. pressured by the expectations of impressing you, she climbed unfocused, looking at you every few seconds, not placing her feet firmly on the branches as her dad had taught her. “what do you think?, “ was the last thing katniss asked her best friend before falling from the tree and losing consciousness.

as soon as her eyes opened, she was met with familiar surroundings; she wasn't at school anymore, she was in her house, more specifically on the kitchen table where her mom took care of patients. before she could start to ask herself any more questions, she was met with a pair of worried eyes and a tight hug. “you scared me to death, i thought you had died,” her best friend cried in her arms-well her arm, considering she broke one in the fall and now it was held by an arm cast. “i’m sorry, i was just trying to impress you but i failed,” little katniss confessed, embarrassed, as her eyes filled with tears. 

“why? i'm amazed by you every second we spend together, katniss.” shock came to her and she started to become flustered. “what do you mean?” she asked shyly. “i mean that i like you. i really, really like you, katniss. i was just waiting for the right moment to tell you,” you confessed as your face felt as if it was burning and your heart felt like bursting at any time soon. katniss was left dumbfounded, no words left her mouth even after she had spent many days practicing how she would confess her feelings to you. 

“let me show you,” was the last thing you said before inexpertly pressing your lips softly to hers, one hand caressing her cheek and the other one playing with her hair. katniss felt as if she was in heaven, your soft and gentle lips made her feel as if electricity ran through her veins, becoming addicted to the slight strawberry flavor of them. a sigh escaped her lips when you finally separated, leaving her pleased but still wanting you in her embrace. not a word was said for what felt like an eternity, the room filled with a comfortable silence where your stares communicated everything you wanted to say,

“can i sign your cast?,” you asked giggling, finally breaking the silence. maybe now katniss had a new happy place, a safe place found in her best friend’s embrace.

#little katniss for sure got a concussion #i really hope i did a good job in expressing their innocence and youth #katniss is my favorite thg character and i loved putting her obliviousness and stubbornness in this #hope you like it!! #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x reader #thg #the hunger games #jennifer lawrence

[ursulaismymiddlename]

Where Memories Never Fade and Fairy Tales Come True | Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

The title is a mouthful, but the Dreaming and its master never do anything by half measures. Whether it's creating worlds or courting a new lover.

Rated S for Smiling Morpheus (and also sorta kissing)

Thanks to @captainpoopweinersoldier @whats-rambled-rambled and @laurelwen for putting up with me going on and on about the damn thing.

I'd apologize for the delay, but I'm honestly just happy I got this one done lol

---

The lush and verdant landscape before you can only be a dream.  The green of the rolling hills is too vibrant, the blue of the sky with its perfectly painted clouds too brilliant.  And yet, even knowing this, you find yourself in awe, feet trailing the gently worn path that splits through the field of wildflowers.  The air is thick with the perfume of them and you smile in the vague knowledge that no pollen will irritate your sinuses and that the butterflies and bees will leave you in peace.

A tree looms ahead, branches stretching upward and outward, blossoming against the vault of sky.  It draws you ever so gently, a tug in your chest you’re all too eager to follow.  But it’s beneath the breeze-blown boughs that you discover what truly calls.  A toy box.  Your toy box.  The one from your childhood that you haven’t seen in far too many years.

How strange and delightful to pick your way through it.  Old toys greet you as old friends, your heart aching with glee at the sight of ancient stuffed animals and wind-up toys long since forgotten.  All in perfect repair, as shiny and new as your furthest memories of them.  Still, it’s at the bottom of this mountain of joy that you find it.  You know this is what you were meant to find all along. And you know, with a giddy sob, exactly who has left it here for you.

There, sitting pristinely in the recesses of the toybox, untouched by the hands of time, you find your old typewriter.

It’s a child’s thing, and just as well since you were a child when you had it; long before you even knew what typing was or how to craft a story.  With great reverence, you lift the precious plastic thing into the dappled sunlight beneath the tree.  Turn it this way and that to inspect it, to recall the lines of it and the weight of it in your hands.  You remember it much heavier, in the hands of a little girl all of nine or ten.  Something in so minute a difference swells in your chest, makes it more real.

Vibrant color flutters in your peripheral, pulling your attention to the incandescent butterfly crossing your path.  You turn to follow it, watching the rainbows of its wings shimmering in the speckled sunlight.  And your wonder only grows when you see where the little creature leads you.  A desk, set amongst the wildflowers, chair pulled out so invitingly.  The butterfly alights upon a stack of clean white paper that awaits you and the typewriter in your hands.

With a delighted grin, you take the offered seat, placing the machine down gently.  Your kaleidoscope companion flutters lazily when you pull a sheet from the stack beneath it, but settles right back in while you spool the paper into the typewriter.  It’s been so long, you’re surprised you remember how, but you find things moving with practiced ease.  And like many a dream, the letters and symbols on the keys don’t seem quite right.  Yet, your fingers find their appointed places just the same.

The keystrokes flow from you in a fervor, your excitement tangible.  And while the inky symbols appear on the page in different fonts and sizes, hardly recognizable to the eyes, you know exactly in your heart what you type.  You think in a place like this, that’s all that really matters.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless…

A gentle breeze rustles through the leaves above you.  It even buffers against your little butterfly, sending it flittering into the air in a delicate twirl of color before the lively thing disappears into the grassland.  Anticipation thrums in goosebumps along your skin as you turn in your seat.  Feeling him before you see him.

“You called for me, little writer?”

Your smile grows at the sight of the Dream Lord mere feet away.  To say he looks out of place in such a natural scene isn’t entirely accurate.  If anything, his presence seems to bring everything into sharper focus, the romantic haze giving way to something more palpable.  His kingly countenance commands the attention of the entire world around him.  But his eyes are on you, curious and amused as he regards you.

“I suppose I did,” you tease, rising to your feet to greet him properly.  “I’m actually a little surprised you weren’t here already.”

“I thought, perhaps, you could use a reprieve from my company.”  His eyes never leave yours as you stand before him, lip quirking ever so gently.  “Our last encounter seemed to trouble you.  I wish for you to be at peace while you are in my realm.”

Though his voice holds a playful lilt, there’s enough sincerity in his words to set your cheeks ablaze.  Perhaps a reprieve is in order, though nothing quite so harsh as his absence.  You settle for turning to eye the greenery around you, to catch a breath.  “Very peaceful… and gorgeous.  Is every place you make here so beautiful?”

To your surprise and delight, Morpheus beams with pride and surveys the land beside you.  “I take great care in the things I create.”

“Like my typewriter?”

His attention cuts to you from the corner of his eyes, finding your smile there seems to ease him, though his head still ducks a little in chagrin.  “Pray you, forgive me for taking the liberties.  I’d only hoped to encourage you.”

There is something so soft about this ethereal creature beside you, that without thinking you reach to touch the sleeve of his black coat.  His head turns to regard your fingers, then your face, but he makes no move and you make no mention.

“Thank you.”  And you can only hope to sound as sincere as you feel.  “I can’t even imagine how you…”

You trail off, a realization dawning on you with a gentle gasp.  “Half of dreams are memories, aren’t they?  Whether mine or someone else’s.”

At this, Dream turns back to you fully, and the warmth of his expression nearly knocks the breath from you.  “You’ve found me out, little writer.”

It’s his turn to reach for you, with one graceful twist of his wrist, he finds your hand with his own, thumb grazing against your knuckles.  “There were a few different writing instruments in your memory, but this one seemed to have the most meaning.”

“That is… incredibly thoughtful.”  And finding yourself yet again at a loss for words before the King of Dreams, you settle for the ones that stick and swell in your heart.  “Thank you.”

If your ineloquence bothers him, Morpheus gives no sign.  In fact, he bows his head regally, bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a chaste kiss.  “I’m happy it pleases you.”

You try to school the giddy grin that overtakes you.  It wouldn’t do, to just melt entirely right in front of him, not when he’s just arrived.  And sure, he told you he wants to court you, but he’s still the King of Dreams and you don’t want to look like a complete… Holy shit, you’re being courted by an Endless! What the –

“Will you walk with me, then?”  That soothing voice interrupts the start of a good mental spiral.  And judging from the tilt of his head as he looks at you, he is well aware of it, too.  Still, you’re thankful, even if it takes you a moment to recover yourself.  “That is, if you’ve no intent to write at the moment.”

“Absolutely.”  

Your nod is all eager relief as he tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow.  How easy it is to follow his lead down the gently beaten path.  Sneaking a glance at him, you note just how proudly he walks, yet there’s nothing so severe in his face.  It’s formal, old-fashioned, some might even say a little stiff, but…. Somehow, this feels as intimate as any kiss upon your knuckles.  At least, if this Morpheus truly is anything like the one from your stories.

“Speaking of being pleased,” you eventually say, smiling when he crooks an eyebrow at you.  “I finished writing another story.”

His head tips in acknowledgement, but there’s a playful glint in his twinkling eyes.  “Yes.  You should be pleased.  Though… Matthew was quite saddened you had not worked on his tale first.”

The memory of your last meeting strikes you then, the gentle jibe of jealousy on his part and the fond look he’d given you.  You wonder briefly if you look the same when you say “Well, I only follow where the inspiration leads.”

This seems to tickle the Dream Lord, a sharp amused snort shaking his shoulders slightly.  It’s hard not to raise your chin in a bit of triumph at having elicited such a response.  

“Actually,” you dare to add, bolstered by the easy camaraderie.  “What I meant was I thought you’d be pleased to hear I finished it.”

“I am pleased indeed,” Morpheus assures, though he gently slows you both to a stop beneath another tree, a lush willow near a sweetly babbling creek.  “I was already fond of this particular story.  But you should take pride in your crafting.  It was… quite beautiful.”

The compliment lights you up like nothing else.  “You really think so?”

“Yes, Little Writer.”  An indulgent smile curls the corners of his mouth.  “It felt every bit the dream it was meant to; fever-pitched and ethereal.”

“I’m so glad you liked it.”  You beam, barely able to meet his gaze, fingers curling more firmly around his elbow lest your bout of giddiness send you reeling.  “I was a little worried since you didn’t really make a full appearance…”

“But I was there.  In the sand and the stars.”  His hand finds yours again, engulfing it with his fine pale fingers.  Something thick in his velvet voice feels like a promise, drawing your attention to his glimmering eyes so intent upon you.

Though, you do manage a bashful smirk.  “I didn’t think you danced.”

“I confess, I do not.  But that does not keep me from enjoying the sight of you doing so.  A wild and free thing.”  Dream tips his head closer to you, his little smile conspiratorial, and you’re struck by it as much as the sight and sound of the willow’s branches beginning to move; twisting and twining into a soft curtain of green to surround just the two of you.  “Is that how you wish for me to court you?  Shall I help you dance among the stars?”

“I���” The reminder of his intentions flutters in your stomach, a nervous, airy chuckle squeaking its way out of your throat.  “I don’t think I’m much of a dancer either.”

By the twitch between his brows, you think Morpheus means to argue, but he only offers a placating nod.  “Very well.  Then what else shall I offer you?  What might you wish of me? You need only ask.”

“I think you offering yourself is more than enough,” you guffaw, the giddy absurdity taking you.  

But when a ghost of an expression crosses his lips, as though surprised and flattered by your words, you find yourself suddenly much more sobered. It calls to question the smallness you feel before such an Endless being.  That you’d be so lucky to capture his attention, let alone his favor. And because he liked your writing of all things?

“I suppose I might ask…”  You suddenly feel a little ridiculous, but the curious arch of his brow serves to pry your bottom lip from between your teeth.  “Well, you said you like my stories.  For whatever reason, you enjoy my writing.”

“I do.”  

“And you’ve read every story I’ve thought of, written or not, because they’re all in your library?”

The slightest nod of his head seems to urge you on, eager to follow where you’re going with this line of thought.  “But then, why does it matter if I actually write them in the Waking World?  If they’re already here, you already have them to read whenever you want.”

Dream straightens a little, lips pursing as he seems to mull over his answer.  You get the feeling he knows exactly why, but perhaps is less sure how to put voice to it.  And there’s something beautifully mundane and endearing about the little crease of concentration between his brow.  

“Stories fuel the unconscious which, in turn, fuels The Dreaming,” he begins, slow and measured, as if weighing each word on his tongue.  “The more stories there are, the more people who read them, the more robust it makes this realm.”

There’s no denying his sentiment, of course, but… but something still tickles at the back of your mind.  Teases out your curiosity with an amused huff. “Can’t that be said of any story, though?  Why these?  Why mine?”

The Dream King’s dark crown tilts back at a regarding angle, only the softness of his features keeping his demeanor from aloofness.  A softness that melts some of the stiff angles of him, until he moves your hand from the crook of his elbow downward to cradle between his own. “When I first took notice, you were standing at the Gates of Horn, staring in, but too frightened to walk through.” 

He levels his gaze with yours, expression gentle and imploring.  “I merely opened the way.  You took the steps that lead you here, to this place.”

To me, your brain supplies.  And your stomach swoops, uncertain if it was your own voice in your ears or his.  With a gentle shake of your head, as much to hide your flushed skin as to express your confusion, you reply. “I don’t understand.  I thought the Gates of Horn were for true dreams.”

“Your words may be fiction, but there is truth at the heart of them.”  No small amount of pride flashes through his eyes, gaze hot upon your cheeks.  “I see it in the way you write The Dreaming.  And in how you speak of my siblings.”

“That… didn’t come from you?”  You blink in surprise at the thought.  Certainly you recognized the other Endless in your little fics. Despair, Delirium… They’d presented themselves quite naturally in the narrative.  You only assumed it was the influence of the Dream Lord himself.

“No,” he insists, amusement tinting his voice.  “Yet you write them as I know them to be. And the way you write me…”

Here his eyes finally stray from yours; flitting down to your hand in his, where his thumb traces the ridge of your knuckles, before finding you again through the dark rim of his lashes, an almost timid smile curling the corner of his lips. “Flattering as it may be, there is a realness to it that I can only hope to strive for.”

You’re not sure how to process this.  This Endless cosmic being enjoys the way you write him, is flattered by it… Aspires to it.  With dawning realization, you gasp.  “Dream of a Thousand Cats.” 

It’s the Dream King’s turn to look puzzled now, lips parted in silent question.  But you know, in the way one can only know such things in a dream.  And the thought alone leaves you awed.

“You hope if enough people read the way I write you…” A smile tugs your lips; the clench around your heart both fond and bittersweet in equal measure.  “If enough people dream it, then it will always have been true.”

Whatever sourness threatens Morpheus’s features is quickly released with a lighthearted huff. “Quite the clever little writer.”

A part of you wants to keen in triumph, but this Endless being before you looks caught out enough, you don’t dare to rub it in.  And you feel rewarded for it by the unexpected twinge of vulnerability in his velvet voice. 

“Do you think it selfish of me?”

“I…” Your fingers squeeze his a breath tighter, to reassure him or settle yourself, you’re not quite sure.  “If you think it’s a better version of yourself, then who am I to judge?  Of course… I might be a little partial to the way I write you.”

Any hint of uncertainty you might have imagined in him evaporates against the spark of fondness in his eyes; the brilliant blue of them fluttering behind your ribcage. “Another reason, then, to live up to it.”

You can’t help but think your knees ought to be buckling beneath you.  Perhaps in the Waking World, they would.  But here, with your hand in his, you managed to inch a little closer, your own boldness flushing you. “Can I ask something else of you?”

“Name it.”  There’s a quiet eagerness to it you might have missed beneath the obliging tip of his head. Except you’re a little too focused on him in this closeness.

“May I…”  It catches in your throat only a beat, slipping out before you can lose any more nerve.  “Kiss you?”

The curious twitch of his brow has you bracing, but then his face lights up in amusement.  “Is it not customary for the suitor to request the first kiss?”

If your laughter is quaking breathless, you still find a way to smile at him playfully. “Times change, my lord.”

“Morpheus,” he corrects gently, offering a gracious smile at your flash of confusion. “My station is deserving of respect and reverence, but when we are alone…”

It seems the Dream Lord’s turn to pause a thoughtful breath before speaking in a quiet voice meant just for you.  “When it is only the two of us, I need only be Morpheus.  Your Morpheus.”

His tone itself is enough to melt you, but his words… Those steal the air right out of your lungs.  You have to lick away the dryness from your lips before you can respond.  And even then, it’s little more than a reedy whisper. “Then, may I kiss you… my Morpheus?”

“By all means.” 

Dappled sunlight catches in his glimmering eyes when he leans in ever so slightly closer.  An offering.  And that voice thick with a promise you can’t quite name, but want to hold him to more than anything.  With a steadying hand on his chest, you close the meager distance, your lips finding the cool, pale expanse of his cheek.  The kiss is chaste, but his sharp breath and the way his jaw clenches beneath it makes you wonder if you’ve scorched him.

Yet, you barely manage to part from him -how ever reluctant- before Dream’s delicate fingers find the curve of your neck; stilling you as he turns his face to yours.  Your noses bump gently, parted lips sharing the same shaky breath as they brush together.  And when you make no move to pull away, when your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, Morpheus, your Morpheus, seals his mouth over yours…

—

Your Monday morning alarm is quite possibly the most hideous sound you’ve ever heard at this moment.  Sure, you picked it because it would be enough to wake you without startling you silly first thing in the AM, but that hardly makes up for it pulling you from such a wonderful dream.

It’s left you in a strange state of longing, coupled with a clench around your fluttering heart.  With a twinge of sadness, you realize the details are quickly fading, but you manage to grab your phone.  Once the alarm has been silenced, you tap your note app and start typing what little is still solid in your mind.

The tall dark-haired man, his soft pink lips on yours, a butterfly with stained-glass windows for wings… your old typewriter?

That last one brings a confused smile to your face.  How absolutely silly… How lovely.

You can only hope, as you finally pull yourself from the warmth of your bed, that it will be enough to work with later when you can find some time to write.

#kati writes #the sandman #netflix the sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #Lord Morpheus #Lord Morpheus x Reader

[stoopid-turtle]

BTS in Order - May Pt 2

From bilibili here.

May Pt 1 here

5.16 ggdd fight scene where gg is down to his white shirt.

5.17 ggdd. DD coats himself in sunscreen. Then sprays gg's hand.

- They make weird wooo noises at each other. - They have a convo while surrounded by folks doing their makeup and costumes. Lsz is in background. GG tells DD his face is like 1) bamboo shoots and 2) a pineapple. But not in a bad way. - Gg and DD are standing together, each with a fan. Then gg turns to sit on something and DD follows. I've seen this clip connected to gg's jealousy of the camera man, and gg does talk to the camera (man?) before wandering off. This playlist does not have the big dd/camera man motorcycle talk. - On a rooftop, from a distance, ggdd discuss scene with director.

5.18 dd solo. He's in post ts costume, outside, singing something. Nobody else is around.

5.18 ggdd gg pretends to throw something at dd - post-timeskip reunion scene w DD gremlin smirk (uncertain on this one. may edit to change)

5.20 DD only On a horse with nie mingjue - Under umbrella with jc, jyl, jg heir - Dd squatting next to jc. They stand up to join jyl. They walk out from the umbrella and both DD and jyl are doing a silly little lean back posture

5.21 gg only Scene where wn kills jin zixuan

5.21 ggdd They're both on horses! And with nmj. Gg twirls his flute and looks at dd

5.22 ggdd Dd in blue robes holding tea while assistant holds umbrella over him. He's talking to crew and gg. - DD describes a scene to the producer who doesn't believe it's real. Something about the demon-suppressing cave and dd with wen yuan. They bet on it and the loser has to be slapped 3x on the arm. The producer loses and he whaps her arm. GG asks if he's human and then wanders off.

5.22 dd only. With jl, jc, jzx at archery competition. JZX's dot falls off. DD says jc's purple robes are the most coquettish (骚) of all robes. DD wanders off to find gg

5.22 ggdd They're under a tent getting makeup done. I think I've seen this clip referenced as some sort of fight because of something one of them had said to the other. Gg is saying something to DD and DD looks annoyed and upset and makes some snarky response, based on his facial expression - Eventually, DD looks at his phone again and then both gg and DD are looking at DD's phone. 5.24 gg only with jc. He's eating a cracker or something. - Also with wq. He's teaching her a bro handshake. Wen Chao is there.

5.25 outdoor. Dd asks gg about his ribbon (I think). Gets a mirror to check it. (Alt 7.7) - Ggdd outdoors side by side on their phones while singing together - Ddgg and jzx shoveling poo together. Dd sprays jzx w sunscreen. Fails to pick up bucket (alt 7.7) - Ggdd on a rock together. Gg is tired, DD rambles about literally everything. Accidentally picks some plant, which means a fine (alt 7.7)

5.27 ggdd 9 minutes on a boat? (alt 6.27 (both bilibili playlist and weibo tl have 6.27 as date. another, less comprehensive bb playlist + vic have 5.27 as the date. I'll put in both places and you decide))

5.28 gg only Scene where jyl visits wwx before wedding. They're running thru the script. - Chat with yubin - Filming scene where wwx who's recovering from losing his core gets captured

5.29 ggdd Post-timeskip. Outside. Dd is on a rock that makes him tower over gg. They're chatting. Dd makes weird faces. Then they make weird noises at each other. - Then everybody's in cloud recess dress and jc and jyl are there. Everybody's comparing how tan they are. Then gg tries to poke jc's nipple. Then dd and jc try to poke each other's nipple at the same time. Fail. Finally, DD successfully pokes gg's nipple.

5.29 gg only. In mo manor. In one clip he has trouble figuring out which way he should exit. It's cute.

5.29 DD only. On roof with wires, gliding down

5.30 filming final waterfall scene. They're told they can smile at each other, then look ahead and smile bigger. Dd does an adorable gremlin smile, and the director tells him not that big.

5.30 DD with his guqin on a rock in the middle of a river. A camera drone hovers around him

5.31 ggdd having a meal in yiling (alt 6.1)

#bjyx #yizhan #the timeline of ggdd love yue #when did 9 minutes on a boat happen??? #nobody agrees

[bluecanvasshoe]

Not Ellie

a quick little story i wrote about Ellie Williams. takes place after the aquarium encounter :)

warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TLOU PART 2!!!!! angst, major character death, mentions of gagging, descriptions of injuries, hurt/no comfort, ellie is mentally not okay and what’s mentioned and talked about may be triggering, pacing is a bit weird. i’m tired

may or may not be cringe. idk. was beta read but only by one person because im scared of getting my work read by people close to me 😢 this is the first time i’ve ever posted my work online, so i’m happy to take criticism!

also. a song was added to this fic even though i never added one???? if u saw that no u didnt ignore it

——————

An overwhelming chill settled into Ellie’s bones as she weaved through the streets of Seattle. Rain pelted down around her, soaking the dirt at the bottom of potholes and pits left behind from bombs, a reminder of the government’s doings when the outbreak first began. Buildings towered over her, some crumbling and fallen, others with broken glass and fissured concrete. Dark clouds never seemed to stop coming, the cold rain never ceasing in its relentless downpour.

Her shoes squelched as she walked on cracked and worn pavement, her feet numb from the cold of rain-soaked socks and her legs sore from the long trek to that god forsaken aquarium.

The aquarium. She didn’t want to think about that place anymore, but her brain wouldn’t let her ignore what she had done. She felt like gagging whenever she remembered the woman she killed; Mel. She was pregnant. She was pregnant and she murdered her with a stone cold gaze and venom laced in her voice as she demanded information from her and Owen. She felt like she had a pit in her stomach.

This was all because of Abby. Her mind raced with ideas and ways of how and what she’d do to Abby when she got her hands on her, a blinding fury twisting and manipulating her thoughts, violent notions and images flashing in her head.

Her backpack felt like a hundred pounds on her back, her shoulders aching for a break, but she pressed on. The throbbing lacerations that covered her torso were rubbed and irritated by the heaviness of her bag and the fabric of a worn, pilling shirt with every step she took, a burning sensation settling under her skin and smoldering her flesh. Blisters throb at the back of her heels, making the trek feel longer than it is.

Silence crept up on her and if she hadn’t been listening for infected, she’s sure she would’ve gotten lost in the dark recesses of her mind that she couldn’t quite ignore anymore. It felt like her throat was closing up, like her body was trying to suffocate itself.

She breathed heavily, puffs of vapor swirling and dissipating into the air with her every exhale, the only thing that reminded her that she was alive. That this wasn’t a dream and that she was more than a walking corpse.

She dragged her feet and the more she walked, the longer she felt from the theater.

So much as existing felt impossible.

Days dragged by, even in the midst of mind-altering adrenaline rushes and near death experiences. Time seemed to have slowed itself down, no longer changing its tempo as it seemed less of a construct and became more real.

Every second she spent felt like a second wasted. Ellie believed that, if Joel were to be alive, he would’ve been disappointed. More-so than he already was.

Having to live with the thought that Joel died without an apology from Ellie tore her up both mentally and physically. Scratches and bruises reminded her of this grueling process of self-pity and a never-ending mental spiral that caused her to so blindly be thrown into danger. She hated herself for it. Joel would never hear her apology.

Joel died thinking she was angry at him.

Joel died thinking that, no matter what he could have done, she would’ve hated him in the end regardless.

Ellie was left behind in the mansion that day.

The woman who killed so many without so much as a second thought, who looked at her hands and thought of all the people who felt her cold, merciless grip instead of the arms of their loved ones around them before taking a last breath is not the girl who loved dinosaurs and space. Not the girl who’s been dead for months.

When she looked up and saw her reflection in an intact window that was embedded into the fractured wall of a bottom-floor apartment building, she didn’t recognize whoever stared back.

The monster that drilled holes into her eyes is not her.

Not Ellie.

If Joel was alive, he’d hate her. He’d look at her with disgust at what she had become.

She wouldn’t blame him.

#ellie tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams is sad #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #joel tlou2 #the last of us angst #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #ellie is mentally not okay :) #ellie realizes she’s messed up #mel tlou #mel the last of us #owen tlou #owen the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams the last of us 2 #ellie’s actions catch up to her mentally #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #hurt/no comfort #angst #Spotify

[perceivedregret]

vampire eddie this, vampire eddie that- what about vampire steve

pt 1 of something (so it goes) that's been gnawing at me. i'll prob just go about updating only on ao3 if it continues to take a hold of me. user is the same over there 💐 [there's a part 2 now]

and so it begins

Kathleen Harrington was known for many things, but to her one and only son, she was simply mom.

She was kind but stern, helping Steve with his homework with a calm voice as she corrected his work, the promise of desserts after dinner if he finished before the sun set. Cautious but fun, always letting him lick the batter off the whisk where he sat on the counter as she placed the cupcakes they had spent a better part of their morning shopping for all the ingredients into the oven.

Most would call her absent as she was so often out of town with her husband while her son stayed at home with a sitter. When she was around she was attentive, always watching, always listening. It used to creep him out, used to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end the way she’d call out to him from another room to stop doing something she had no way of knowing he was doing.

During recess Steve would tell the kids that his mom had superpowers. While they were all gathered together, laid back in a circle watching the clouds skirt across the sky after they'd all tired themselves out playing tag, cheeks red and hair sticking to their foreheads, he'd tell them. With a quiet voice, low enough to mask his genuine awe and side of unease he'd mutter that his mom was a witch with a magical third eye that could see through walls.

The kids would all look at him warily, but then Tommy would flick his friend's forehead as an unimpressed scowl scrunched his features. "Monsters and witches aren't real, Harrington. But you know what is? Cooties! You're it!"

Steve would huff in annoyance because, "no, seriously guys, it's weird," but it wouldn't matter because he had the Touch and needed to spread it to the rest of the boys who were already halfway across the playground before the bell rang.

The older he got the less skeptical he became, and eventually he decided that mother’s just know things. Moms have some freaky sixth sense that has nothing to do with magic or some supernatural element because monsters and witches aren't real. Mom’s just know their kids and when they’re messing around with things they shouldn’t, nothing more, nothing less.

Being all knowing wasn’t her only gift. She was also filled with an abundance of sayings. She had one for just about everything, and more often than not those saying made Steve’s eyebrows attempt to knit themselves together as he tried to make sense of the phrases she so often threw his way.

"A watched pot never boils, Steve. Your father will get here when he gets here. Stop watching the street from behind the curtain and set the table for dinner before he gets home… Now. You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Except, the pot will eventually boil.

"Birds of a feather flock together, don’t you worry yourself. You’re still growing into who you are, still figuring yourself out. You'll make friends, just give it time."

But what if the bird lost its feathers?

"You can't miss what you’ve never had, honey. You’ll forget about those puppies before you know it. Now, let’s get going or else we'll be late for evening service."

That last one was one of her personal favorites and it was one of the many few that made sense to him.

The first time she said it, or at least the first memory he has of her saying it, he's three. They're at Cherry and Dot's Toys picking out a gift for one of her book club members' youngest's birthday. They're flying up and down the aisles trying to find something that doesn't make Kathleen's skin crawl. She's dragging Steve around by the cuff of his sleeve as she mutters disdain for the creepy porcelain dolls and ugly plastic GI Joes staring at them as they race through the shop.

Like any other kid, Steve’s eyes are saucers as he takes in the setting. Before he can even think about reaching a hand out to grab the first stuffed dinosaur that comes within arm’s reach, she's pulling him away. He tries to reach for it, ignoring the initial tug.

"Steve, no, not today."

The plushie tumbles to the floor, the tips of his fingers jostling it off the shelf as she tugs again. They both reach for it together but Steve's small frame means he gets to it first and he immediately hugs it close to his chest.

“Please, mom, just this one?”

“Put it back, I said not today."

He shakes his head, hugging the plush closer as determination sets his features, a budding tantrum about to be let loose. He's about to commit to it as he takes a breath, filling his lungs to get a good yell out, but before he can start she's crouching in front of him with a steely stare that makes tears begin to spill. With a stern look she takes a hold of his chin and he hiccups on that inhaled breath, the urge to make a fuss defusing with one single look.

"Steve, do not start with me."

"But m-mom, I wan–"

"Yes, you want, you can want to your heart's content, but you do not need. Today's trip is about Emily, not you." She tips his chin, eyes narrowing and silently asking for understanding. And Steve does, at least he thinks he does, so he simply nods. He nods and puts the neon green and blue triceratops back on the shelf, if only to get her to stop looking at him like she can see through him.

She watches him warily for another moment until she can confirm her son won't go about embarrassing her as they stand surrounded by Tonka Trucks and Barbies. She gives the bridge of his nose a light pinch before her fingers move deftly to wipe away the tracks of tears. A quick once over of him and she stands, fingers locked around his wrist as she grabs the first doll that doesn't make her skin crawl.

"You'll get over this soon enough, Stevie. You can't miss what you've never had."

The phrases along with their many memories are one of the few many sayings that are tucked away and held close, remnants of memories that are held together by scotch tape and sheer force of will of what life was before.

It's all he can do to keep a hold of his humanity ever since he died.

At least that’s what the headstone back at Hawkins declares.

tags and notes can be found on ao3!

#steve harrington #steddie #steddic fic #vampire steve harrington #it will DEVELOP into steddie so im tagging it as such so folks who want to avoid it can 🤙🏽 #supernatural creatures au #we dont know what everyone else is-- well EYE (i) know but yall dont... yet #anywho #my*stuff #so it goes #writing wip

[wangxianslillotus]

Au where Lan Qiren finds out about Wei WuXian's missing golden core by accident and takes his side.

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

Lan Qiren had been hiding after being chased out of his own home by the Wen. One of the disciples had leaded him to this town in the middle of the mountains of Yiling to keep him safe, but he spended his days sunken in worry, knowing that until news of any advances against the Wens came, he would have to stay put. He was not in his best moment, so one day, disguised, he went out to the town hoping he would catch anything about the war in the markets.

Instead, he caught sight of the most unruly disciple he ever had, and he approached him instantly.

"Wei WuXian!" He murmured, knowing well where they stood, once he was close enough. The younger turned around in momentary panic, but when he recognized his master, he stood up. Lan Qiren observed him cautious, Wei WuXian seemed almost ill, barely could stand straight. He was the shadow of the disciple he had meet at Cloud recesses. Aiding him to stand by the arm, Lan Qiren couldn't help but feel his pulse. Whether he was ill or not he would know! What he didn't expect was to find that second pulse that indicated the presence of a golden core. It only took Lan Qiren a minute.

His core is gone.

"Master Lan, no..." The voice was hoarse, tired and coated in pain, gray eyes filled with tears.

"What happened?" He wished to know, not letting go of his elbow, to keep him standing. Sorrow also invaded the younger face, but he looked away.

"Not here. Not safe..." the broken boy spoke, trying to lead the older to a closer inn, but Lan Qiren decided otherwise at the sight of Wen soldiers at some distance.

He grasped the boy from behind his waist hurriedly, and helped him walk back to his hiding place, always keeping an eye on their backs. Wei WuXian has not well, he knew the moment the boy's legs tangled when he tried to walk. He was powerless and could barely stand. He didn't seemed to have eaten anything proper in a long time, too.

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

"So you gave it to Jiang WanYin." It was not a question. But nonetheless, Wei WuXian noded slowly, hearing a sigh from Lan Qiren in response.

Food had been served for him, a warm bath that had revealed his ugly scar under his sternum, almost infected due to poor care. But he couldn't do better while waiting in the streets. A Lan disciple took care of that too, and they borrowed him clean robes. He felt... like he haven't since a long time ago.

He had recited the course of events from an absent perspective, how they had ran from Lotud Pier, even if Jiang Cheng was as reluctant as himself, and how pained they were when everything happened. "It didn't felt real, sir. It still doesn't." He had said before taking a sip of tea. The fires, the smell of familiar blood mixed with the water from the piers. He was the one to blame for all that, he said too. And Lan Qiren almost broke his cup when he put it down.

"You're not the one that provoked that, Wei WuXian. The Wens would have done it under any other excuse, as they did when they destroyed Cloud recesses too." The sorrow was almost tangible in the air, both had terrible memories from the past month, both were in the same boat.

"... Lan Zhan..." He started, not sure how to phrase his words, but concearned enough to try. Lan Qiren flinched at this, but complied with an answer.

"WangJi is... he is hurt. But he will be well. I'm sure." It was not that he didn't trust his nephew, but that he knew what the Wens were capable of. Wei WuXian tried to stand back on his feets at this.

"Then we have to--"

"We have to stay put. Wei WuXian, sit." He ordered. "I understand your urgency, and I share your concerns, but there is little we can do to help in our conditions." He tried to be sensitive about the missing golden core of the younger, even if he had confessed that it had been his doing and his choice, it didn't meant that it had been without any regrets and consequences.

Unsurprisingly, Wei Ying complies. He too knows that he's bond to whatever Lan Qiren decides to do or say. He makes it easier for them, staying put and hidden.

The next morning, Lan Qiren informs him that they are due to depart to other location, since the Wen are too close, and they can't risk being discovered. So he writes a letter for Jiang Cheng and Lan Qiren assures him that it will find the Jiang heir. Strangely enough, Lan Qiren was reminding him of his Jiang Uncle, but Wei WuXian attributed that to the mere fact of being on the run during so long, and that he was the same age his younger nephew was, so maybe the old Lan found in him something familiar, too.

That was not the case, but Wei Ying could only think that was the reason when Lan Qiren words started being somehow softer towards him as the days passed by.

Wei Ying, always on guard, saved the caravan of Lans a couple of times from colliding with the Wen soldiers on the road. Each time, he was sure that Lan Qiren wouldn't listen to him, but the older Lan proved him wrong both times.

Wei Ying felt useless, but Lan Qiren was nothing but a good guide and patient with him, encouraging the younger to train and meditate all he could, insisting that he had just as many possibilities of growing out a second golden core as Wen Qing had of doing the surgery successfully. And Wei Ying wanted to believe that so hard, that he did as his Lan Xiansheng indicated.

After all, the Lan Sect was widely known for their training for growing and strengthen golden cores, above others.

Of course that Wei Ying had better days, where he would rise at five and meditate along the other Lan disciples. But just as well he had worse ones, where Lan Qiren sat at his bedside with his guquin, playing music for the mind.

Wei WuXian felt pressured under the growing shadow of the ongoing war, scared that if something happened, he would be useless and only be a rock on the way, not only of his own family, but also for who had taken him under his wings to give him protection.

His brain, just as it always had been, was restless with ideas and inventions, pushed way further from the line of "being okay" by his impatience and the clear signs thay his golden core wasn't... he would have liked to say improved, but the golden core was gone. It wasn't there. And it wasn't coming back! That was the problem. So he did with it what he could do to cope, try and be useful.

"You're plain idiotic, child. I cannot allow such thing!" Lan Qiren put his cup down as he spoke, Wei Ying huffed and insisted.

"Wen Chao has been hunting me and Jiang Cheng since the fall of Lotus Pier! It's not idiotic! It's strategy!" He complained.

Lan Qiren glared at him, but considered all the cards on the table. This idiotic child had killed the Tortoise of Slaughter, along with his own nephew, but he had come up with the plan. WangJi had told him the exact events of that day, right before the attack to their home. He had rescued Jiang Cheng from under the noses of the Wen Soldiers and Wen Chao, and had always shown great mind for strategies and inventions. Of course, he hadn't done it alone, but Lan Qiren didn't need to know that.

He wouldn't want to, but the reality was that Wei Ying's plan was not bad at all. It was just idiotic.

Wei Ying seemed to read his contempt, because he spoke again, "I just have to give a little walk around the town, show myself a bit, and I'm sure that rumors will do the trick to lure them there!"

"That could possibly work, but the danger is still there. For you above all of my disciples." Lan Qiren states, soft but stern.

"Lan Xiansheng... I am well aware of that, but I cannot possibly stay safe while everyone else is putting their lives on the line. This is our war too. I want to be of use, regardless of the risks..." he pleaded, taking a step back and ready to kneel for his words.

A hand stopped him from doing so, heaving a sigh, "Let's go over this again, will you? Exactly what town do you have in mind for this?"

And like that, the planning began. Wei WuXian told his teacher the entire plan again, and Lan Qiren spotted the weaker parts of it so that they could strengthen them and minimize the possibility of the Wen having the upper hand.

With the two, a bright mind and an experienced one, their modest caravan of cultivators lured Wen Chao to an abandoned town at the base of a mountain, and trapped them there with wards set by Lan Qiren. They had no way to send for help, nor for food or any other thing, so it was only a matter of days until their proud chins fell to the floor to pledge for their actions in exchange for water and plain rice.

This, Lan Qiren frowned upon. Using starvation as a form of coaxing the enemy... it didn't sit well with him. But Wei WuXian reminded him that given the chance, the Wen would have had them chained and tortured. Wei Ying only had to mention the state in which Lan Zhan had arrived to the indoctrination to make Lan Qiren's statements waver. In the end, they would feed them, after all. They just needed to weaken their wills and bodies enough to take them as prisoners. It was cruel, but efficient, and wasn't in the darkest side of the things done in wartime.

"Righteousness will only get us so far, sadly, Xiansheng. But a war is a war, and the information that they have can save thousands," Wei WuXian had argued, a dark face that made Lan Qiren sigh and agree.

Once the reinforcements they had sent for to Qinghe arrived, they transported their prisoners back to the Unclean realm, where Wei WuXian finally reunited with his martial siblings, and unsurprisingly, Lan Quiren's own younger nephew, who's face had lighten up like he'd finally seen the sun shining again.

At the beginning, Lan Qiren thought he finally could hand back the responsability of carrying Wei WuXian around to his new Sect Leader, the old man found that instead of hugs and a warm reception, Wei WuXian was mostly frowned upon and unfairly treated.

Mostly, it was the Jin contingent that worded harsh complains to the boy, abusing of the fact that Wei WuXian could not longer bear his sword, and then became a matter of who his parents had been.

Lan Qiren remained quiet for the first half of it all, awaiting for the Jiang Sect Leader to shut down those cruel statements, since his head disciple was more than capable independently of the presence of a golden core, or from which womb he'd been born. But as the sneers and off handed comments started to truly bear down Wei WuXian, and the Sect Leader remained quiet, Lan Qiren had had enough.

Everyone inside the war tent came to a halt, respecting the Lan elder with careful eyes. Lan Qiren walked out, calling Wei Ying to follow him, and patted the boy's shoulder when he complied quietly.

Unrestrained as he was, Wei WuXian was a wonderful young man. Smart like no other, resourceful and bright. Always upright and held his good values too. Even if he'd been though so many painful things that would have cracked even the most perfect cultivators, Wei WuXian still considered others before his own well-being. And in the few months they'd been traveling together, Lan Qiren had learned that he would not put himself first unless he was told to.

So it wasn't hard for Lan Qiren to offer him a helping hand.

"Wei Ying, come back to Gusu once everything is over. I will host you, teach you, and find a way to restore your core, or cultivate a new one."

#lan xichen #the untamed #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wei ying #lan zhan #cql #lan qiren #lan sect #yunmeng sect #gusu lan #twin jades of gusu #come back to gusu but its lan qiren #lan qiren finds wwx #mdzs au

[robininthelabyrinth]

Discordant Rhapsody - ao3 - Chapter 6

The rules said Have a strong will and anything can be achieved.

Lan Qiren had often hoped that that was true, although the evidence of his own life showed him that external circumstances often had just as much if not more impact on events as did one’s will. For instance, in the situation with his brother, he did not know how it could have gone another path – perhaps if he had loved his sect less, or himself more, he would have found it in his heart to fight harder…but then what would have become of Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji?

No, another path was impossible, unthinkable.

The same was true now, when he found himself upon his current road.

After Wei Wuxian had finished formally presenting Lan Qiren with (better) tea with the approval of his current sect leader and Lan Qiren had accepted, allowing Wei Wuxian the honor of calling him shifu, Jiang Cheng, looking uncomfortable and more than a little regretful, asked, “Do you plan to return to the Cloud Recesses at once?”

Lan Qiren had, and had intended to say as much, but that was the point where Wen Qing apparently lost her patience with the eavesdropping she’d been doing up until that point. She marched over and snapped, “Absolutely not! Do you want to kill him? With his qi in the state it is, he shouldn’t be walking, let alone flying!”

That had set off an entire set of completely unnecessary dramatics.

“You’re exaggerating,” he said flatly after listening to far too much of Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng all somehow managing to needle each other into worrying about him, each one very effectively tormenting the others to greater heights of concern. Had he known that Wei Wxuian had such mother hen tendencies? Or Jiang Cheng, for that matter? “Yes, I’m not in the best of health. No, it’s not curable, neither by rest nor by surgery. I have permanent damage to my lungs and meridians, and excess stress or significant emotion will cause my qi to become disordered more easily than most; that’s all. No, it is not related to why I have accepted a disciple, really, Jiang Wanyin! What do you think I’m going to ask Wei Wuxian to do, resurrect my lungs?”

He meant it harshly, a sarcasm, but for some reason that made Wei Wuxian let out a rather undignified snort, which had made the others go abruptly quiet for about three breaths, and then all three of them abruptly and simultaneously started laughing to the point of hysterics.

Lan Qiren sighed.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand the cause. Even as an adolescent, Wei Wuxian had had the sort of sense of humor that made him laugh at everything no matter the situation, Wen Qing was probably sick with grief thinking about her brother that Wei Wuxian was currently in the process of resurrecting, and who even knew what sort of trauma Jiang Wanyin had dealt with in his past…really, an inappropriate bout of humor was the least worst way they could be using to vent their emotions. That did not mean it was not incredibly annoying, particularly since Lan Qiren was not currently laughing along with them. Certainly not the chest-heaving, throat-choking, eyes-watering, have-to-sit-down sort of laughter they were currently suffering from.

All for the best, really, given his condition.

Lan Qiren decided to go somewhere else to wait it out.

Unfortunately, in the Burial Mounds, the only real other place to go sit was with the Wen sect, which he didn’t especially want to do. Still, as Wei Wuxian’s shifu, Lan Qiren had taken his disciple’s responsibilities upon himself, and that that included the Wen sect remnants. He wouldn’t be able to avoid them forever, so it was best to make a start now, lest he be tempted to put it off endlessly, which would help no one at all. Be harsh on yourself, be easy on others, after all…

So decided, Lan Qiren went over to where they were milling around like a bunch of pheasants, looking anxious.

“A decision has been reached,” he informed them, hands clasped firmly behind his back so that they wouldn’t see how hard he was grasping his own wrists or how white his knuckles grew at the sight of that much-hated insignia that still decorated their robes. He hoped they could be convinced to change it, though given their role model he didn’t exactly have much faith in their reasonableness. “You will all be returning with me to the Cloud Recesses in Gusu, where you will be provided with some land to call your own and a place to live freely, albeit under supervision. In truth, this time, no matter what you might have encountered in the past.”

Wei Wuxian might claim that the Jin sect lied to the cultivation world, deciding to use the Wen sect as slaves rather than letting them live in peace the way they’d said they would, and Lan Qiren might even be inclined to believe such a thing of Jin Guangshan, knowing the other man’s character as he did, but the sad fact of the matter was that there was no proof. No matter how much Lan Qiren might personally trust Wei Wuxian over Jin Guangshan, in eyes of the public the word of a demonic cultivator was worse than worthless, and the Wen sect’s own testimony would be seen as self-interested and inherently uncredible – there was simply no way for them to obtain any remedy now. If any of them were to have peace, they had no choice but to forget the past and move on.

Or, well, they should. Whether Lan Qiren would be able to make Wei Wuxian see reason and keep his mouth shut for once in his life was still to be seen. And if he couldn’t, and he expected that he couldn’t, he’d just have to figure out a way to manage the fallout…somehow.

Truly he had tied a heavy anchor to his legs this time.

“Thank you, Teacher Lan,” one of the old women said politely – it was the old granny that had been minding the young child earlier. “We appreciate what you’re doing on behalf of Wei-gongzi.”

Lan Qiren jerked his head in a stiff nod. He wasn’t sure if she actually resembled old Lan Yang, who’d died with a child in her arms fighting a rearguard action to defend the women’s quarters and get their sect’s youngest and most vulnerable children to safety, or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Regardless, the combination of that memory and the Wen sect robes was off-putting in the extreme, making his stomach churn.

The rules said Do not hold grudges, but Lan Qiren didn’t know how to do that. He never had, but even less did he know how to do that here, when there’d been so much loss and so much hatred. It didn’t matter whether these people in front of him had actually wielded a sword or not, whether they were cultivators or innocents like the small child; their family had attacked his family, senselessly and unprovoked, and he would not be human if he did not resent them for what had happened.

But he’d given his word to Wei Wuxian, and more than his word, his oath. Wei Wuxian had taken these men and women under his protection, and as his shifu, Lan Qiren had accepted that task as well. Having so accepted it, he would live up to it to the fullest extent of his abilities.  And if, despite that, he could not bring himself to forgive them in his heart, then at least he would have the decency to be rigidly neutral in his manner with them, adhering strictly to the rules of etiquette.

“If you have any concerns, either now or later, you should let me know,” he said politely, and they murmured back, equally polite, that they would.

The conversation then ground to an awkward halt.

Lan Qiren glanced back at where Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Wen Qing were, wondering if those three howling monkeys had managed to get control of themselves, but he was out of luck – they’d apparently graduated to some sort of argument, with Wen Qing having clasped her hands over her mouth as if she’d said something she shouldn’t and Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both pale-faced and talking as much with their hands as with their mouths. It was thankfully inaudible at this distance, but it was definitely not something Lan Qiren wanted to get into the middle of.

Perhaps Jiang Cheng had finally figured out why Wei Wuxian was so obsessed with saving these Wens. It was certainly something Lan Qiren had planned to ask now that he had the authority to expect an answer…though, again, whether Wei Wuxian would actually answer his fake shifu was as yet unknown.

At any rate, the argument did leave Lan Qiren in an awkward place. He couldn’t go wandering the Burial Mounds around freely, he couldn’t go back, and staying here without speaking was becoming increasingly torturous in its sheer awkwardness. And given how bad he normally was at even noticing awkwardness, that meant it must be even worse for the Wen around him…

It would be better to start a conversation.

Luckily, the Wen sect members around him were old, and old people were the same everywhere.

“Your little A-Yuan seems like a bright boy,” he said, pulling his teacher’s manner over himself like a shield. “How old was he when he first learned to speak?”

The grandmother he’d been speaking to blinked owlishly, seeming surprised to be addressed, but eventually answered with an approximation. Lan Qiren, determined to make this conversation flow even if he had to do it all himself, praised it as being remarkably early (it was actually about average based on his experience with young children, but under the circumstances the boy learning to speak at all was a miracle) and the sign of high intelligence in the future, adding in comparisons to how his own nephews at that age had been similarly talkative (well, Lan Xichen anyway) and sweet (…also Lan Xichen).

The combination of flattery, references to his own family, and an oblique mention of the term ‘future’ in relation to a child did the work he’d been hoping it would, making them relax and start talking – sure enough, like all families, they had high hopes for their children. There was a long-running argument between two of the uncles as to whether Wen Yuan had selected the path of the scholar or that of the sword on his first birthday, since he’d apparently gone for both items at once. There was usually an argument like that, in most families, and as Lan Qiren had expected, the first moment they had a chance, they jumped right back into the practiced cadences of it no matter who was in attendance.

“It could always be both,” Lan Qiren pointed out at one point when it seemed like they were about to run out of energy. “My Lan sect both values scholarly traits and cultivates the sword, and I would expect that your Wen Yuan would be a guest disciple of ours, in time.”

That made them all go quiet for a moment. Lan Qiren realized belatedly that it served as an awkward reminder of their unfortunate circumstances, but before he could apologize, Granny Wen burst out with, “What’s that like, then?” and Lan Qiren was suddenly being peppered with all sorts of questions about how the Lan sect treated its guest disciples.

He answered them all, stressing the importance of the rules, especially the ones about not bearing grudges, and the attempt that they made to have fair and equitable teaching. It was still only an attempt, of course, but they’d come a long way since Lan Qiren’s father’s time, when things had been quite dire in terms of favoritism and bias, and he had hope that Lan Xichen would continue his tradition of both seeking to model fairness and grace where possible and to enforce the requirement thereof in others.

(Lan Qiren was well aware that his nephews were his favorites, and that he wasn’t as good as he might be about hiding that fact, but there was only so much he could do about it – they were the perfect pupils, and to refuse to show them favor when they had done so well would be just as unfair as favoring them unduly would have been if they had lacked such diligence. Or so he comforted himself, anyway.)

Somehow, perhaps inevitably, the conversation turned from Wen Yuan to the other clan child the Wen elders were concerned with, Wen Qing. It took Lan Qiren, eternally oblivious to conversational undercurrents, a good while before he realized that they had moved on from wondering what was wrong with Wei Wuxian that he wasn’t at all interested in marrying her, since he clearly didn’t mind the baggage associated with their surname – given that Wen Qing was objectively an attractive girl, this was an entirely reasonable speculation, and it occurred to Lan Qiren that there might be some basis to have hope (or possibly fear) that Lan Wangji could actually have a chance of his own at winning Wei Wuxian – to subtly probing out Lan Qiren’s own marriage situation, apparently on the basis of him being the only other person they knew of who didn’t appear inclined to try to kill them on sight.

“Absolutely out of the question! She’s the same age as my eldest nephew!” he exclaimed as soon as he realized the nature of their questions.

“It’s not bad for a girl to marry someone steady and already settled,” Granny Wen said peaceably. “And you shouldn’t shortchange yourself: you have experience in raising children, but you don’t have any of your own, and no wives already. Plenty of girls would be very pleased to have such a prospect –”

Lan Qiren made some hasty excuses and fled.

Truly old people were the same everywhere, he thought sourly. His own elders back home had started making very similar noises the very moment Lan Xichen had come of age. If there hadn’t been a war on, he feared to think where he might have ended up…

Unfortunately, the argument between Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian, and Wen Qing had not calmed down, and had in fact increased considerably in volume – they were now retreading the ground of Jiang Fengmian’s painfully obvious favoritism, and something about which of them deserved or was required to be the standard-bearer of their family’s revenge on the Wen sect, which seemed to Lan Qiren to be a somewhat odd conversation to involve Wen Qing in – and the options regarding where Lan Qiren could go had not gotten any better.

Out of lack of other alternatives, Lan Qiren headed back into the cave that housed a contained fierce corpse in the process of being refined.

This was the life he’d chosen, he thought glumly, looking down at Wen Ning’s body. Fierce corpses and Wen sect, Wen sect and fierce corpses…

At least he’d had some practice at dealing with strange experiments from Lan Yueheng. Not fierce corpses, of course; the most his alchemist cousin had ever done was try to store a few unexploded explosives in his house – though on second thought, that one set of makeshift fireworks that accidentally released mildly hallucinogenic fumes when damp was in fact probably worse than fierce corpses. What Lan Yueheng had been thinking, Lan Qiren would never know.

And at least the worst his nephews had brought home was –

Take him back, though he is unwilling.

Lan Qiren flinched at the memory, then chased it off with a force of will. The worst his nephews had brought home were some rabbits, which was nothing. Lan Wangji had not brought anyone home against their will, and now would never, given that Lan Qiren was bringing Wei Wuxian back to Gusu for him, and the worst Lan Xichen had done was take on a somewhat shifty sworn brother in addition to the perfectly respectable Chifeng-zun. Neither of them had ever acted in any way that might be comparable to their father’s situation. Lan Yueheng remained the better comparison by far; his cousin had eventually learned to keep all his experiments up in his mountain laboratory and far away from others, and Wei Wuxian could undoubtedly learn to do the same with his experiments, too.

However unorthodox those experiments might be.

“This is for your good as well as mine,” Lan Qiren informed the unmoving figure before settling down and starting to play some music designed to help calm and steady the emotions. Normally, when bringing back fierce corpses for his students to learn from, he would use, or instruct others to use, songs designed to help taper off the resentful energy in order to make the corpses less violent and more safe, insofar as anything evil could be safe. However, since he didn’t know exactly what Wei Wuxian was doing with his talismans, he refrained from using any of those and focused only on the ones that could sooth the spirit rather than suppress it. He had no idea if his music was actually helping or not, since the fierce corpse seemed completely inert, but it was certainly helping him, so he continued.

After a while, there was a dry cough.

“T-teacher Lan,” someone said. Stuttered, really, but Lan Qiren was deep into the music, having settled into a form of meditation as he played, and he wasn’t really listening to the outside world any longer. “Teacher Lan?”

Whatever they wanted could wait.

“Teacher Lan, your fingers are b-bruised, you shouldn’t play so much. You might hurt yourself.”

Bruised?

Ah, yes. He remembered now. Zhang Xin, the unexpected arrival of the baby – flying to Jinlin Tower – hearing Lan Wangji – flying away, falling, Nie Mingjue – coming to the Burial Mounds – taking Wei Wuxian as a personal disciple…

Lan Qiren slowly emerged from his trance, bringing the music to a proper conclusion at the next ending point. He’d shifted away from playing qi-regulating and emotion-soothing melodies at some point, meandering off into playing whatever came to mind the way he normally did when he was in seclusion, letting the music and spiritual energy flow through him to do whatever it wished…

He abruptly realized that he was exhausted.

Not just emotionally or physically, which might have been expected, but spiritually as well – he’d been cultivating while playing, as he always did, and it felt as though he’d made some progress in his cultivation while also simultaneously doing something that had all but emptied him out, as if he’d been using his qi to accomplish something while playing. It was embarrassingly undiscipled of him to do something like that, especially when he wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing with his spiritual energy – he hadn’t had a lapse like that in years.

He lifted his head to apologize to whoever had come in to find him, and found himself looking at the only other person in the cave with him.

“Ah,” he said faintly, and Wen Ning ducked his head in embarrassment, seeming to wish that he could still blush. “I see Wei Wuxian’s experiment was successful. I should probably…tell someone.”

“…probably,” Wen Ning agreed meekly.

Lan Qiren got up and brushed himself off, putting away his guqin, and turned to head outside, but then paused. Wei Wuxian had only used the name ‘Wen Ning’, but the boy was old enough, even by Wen sect standards… “What’s your courtesy name?”

“Uh,” Wen Ning said. “Wen Qionglin?”

“Why did you phrase that as a question?”

“I…don’t know?”

Lan Qiren sighed and headed out.

“Are you done?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was sitting on the ground with a pale face – Wen Qing was sitting not far from him, looking equally grim, and Jiang Cheng was nowhere in sight.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian said, then laughed, a sharp and unpleasant sound, jagged and painful. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“You don’t know that,” Wen Qing murmured. She sounded as tired as Lan Qiren felt. “He’s just angry.”

Lan Qiren eyed them both, wondering what exactly it was that had managed to drive Jiang Cheng, who earlier that very morning had been willing to at least consider overturning the entire cultivation world and his own rebuilt sect for Wei Wuxian’s sake, to behave so foully that Wei Wuxian believed himself genuinely abandoned.

“This was a mistake,” Wei Wuxian muttered, then scrubbed at his face. “Teacher Lan, I’ve wasted your time. You should –”

“I’ve already accepted you as a disciple,” Lan Qiren reminded him, his own voice sharp. “There is no such thing as a ‘waste of time’. What’s done is done, and there will be no denying it, and no hiding it, either.”

Wei Wuxian winced. As expected, whatever it was that they’d been fighting about had to do with some secret he’d been keeping, and probably Wen Qing and Wen Ning as well.

“We can discuss your issue later. For the moment, disciple, you are going to stop moping and go do your duty,” Lan Qiren commanded. “Your experiment worked, or at least seemed to, and you need to tend to it.”

“My experiment?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking confused. “What experiment? The only thing I’m doing right now is…”

“Wen Qionglin,” Lan Qiren agreed. “He’s awake and talking. I thought you might –”

“A-Ning!” Wen Qing blurted out, jumping to her feet and running into the cave, and Wei Wuxian was only a few steps behind her.

Lan Qiren sighed and looked down the hill, wondering if Jiang Cheng had only gone down to rejoin his people or if he’d left entirely. If they were going to transport so many people to the Cloud Recesses, they wouldn’t be able to fly on swords, and neither could they walk, given the ages of the people involved – they’d need to hire a cart, probably several carts. It would have been better if they could be guarded by cultivators as they travelled, given the way the roads remained rife with bandits and evil creatures, dangerous even to experienced cultivators like him…though he supposed he didn’t need to worry too much about the latter, given Wei Wuxian, and probably not too much about the former, also given Wei Wuxian. The stories that had gone around during the Sunshot Campaign claimed that his demonic cultivation made him a match for two dozen cultivators by himself, and with the Tiger Seal he could even defeat an army.

Best not to think about that.

Nor to think about how long it would take for them to get back to the Cloud Recesses.

Indeed, even if his Lan sect knew to come escort them –

Oh no.

It suddenly occurred to Lan Qiren that his nephews would have probably returned to the Cloud Recesses by now. They would have come to pay their respects to him the way they always did when they returned home from their travels, and once they found out he wasn’t there, they would ask around to find out where he’d gone. They would find out that he had planned to head towards Jinlin Tower, and that he’d departed all alone – and then they would realize that since they hadn’t seen him, that he must not have made it –

Lan Qiren probably should have had Nie Mingjue pass along a message for him, though of course at the time he’d had no notion of what he intended to do. If his nephews became panicked over his absence and raised an alarm…

No, wait, there was still hope. He was supposed to be in seclusion, which meant that his nephews would not feel the need to come pay respects to him. His Lan sect respected privacy – the door guards probably wouldn’t mention his departure, and only Lan Yueheng knew the reason he’d left instead of going into seclusion, yet his cousin would of course be busy with his own new arrival. He’d think to tell his nephews about it, in time, but it might take a few days.

Of course, it had already been something like three days, counting the two he’d been unconscious. If they didn’t know of his absence by now, they’d know soon, and Lan Qiren didn’t want to think about what type of fuss they might cause in looking for him. His sect needed to be mindful of its face during these uncertain times…

He was being rather hypocritical in thinking something like that, given what he’d just done.

Actually, that was another thing. He was exhausted; he could push himself a little longer if he had to, but he wasn’t in any state to be flying a sword, and the Wen had the elderly and a child to account for. They would definitely have to take carts, slow-moving ones, and that meant it would take them a fair bit of time to reach the Cloud Recesses – it was quite probable that rumors, because there were always rumors, would reach them first.

No, it would be better for Lan Qiren to send a message alerting his nephews to his location, to his safety…to his latest activities.

His new disciple.

Lan Qiren winced at the thought of explaining everything he’d done in a letter. He’d never been a coward, or so he flattered himself, but there really weren’t words for what he wanted to explain, since he certainly wasn’t going to tell them that he’d done it for Lan Wangji’s sake.

Truly, the rules said do not act impetuously for a reason…

Glancing back at the cave, where there was no doubt tearful reunions and possibly demonic cultivation afoot, Lan Qiren decided to instead ignore his exhaustion and go down the mountain to try his luck instead.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #discordant rhapsody #variations

[rylandfalkov]

May Daily Writing Challenge Day 6 - Gleaming

Warnings: Some implied sexy times, also a slightly NSFW picture below the cut

Ryland had always found it easy to ham it up for the red carpet cameras. He felt strangely at ease when all eyes were on him, and arriving with the lady of the night, Miss Vixannya Ana’diel, would offer him that extra attention that he adored. He dazzled in the gleaming spotlights and the flashing cameras in his designer suit meant to match her gown, sneaking in a few flirty moments with Annya to create a stir of whispers. Yes, he arrived with her last year as well. Yes, he was a part of the entertainment cast later. The rumor mill would start up again, and they would laugh over it later as they did last year.

He left her to the adoring crowd to pose alone and answer questions for a while, turning his attention to the art itself. The previous year he had been one of her muses during the Hedonismia exhibit, a theme that was much better suited to his personality. However this particular gallery featured a good amount of Dracthyr muses, including one very familiar face. He knew that Annya was painting Tazindrox, but the painting itself had turned out more beautiful than he could have imagined. As far as being able to choose your own Visage, Taz had done a damn good job of it, and the Dracthyr being slightly socially awkward made the whole thing even better.

He ran into a variety of familiar faces admiring the art and briefly chatted them all up, but had to make an early exit in order to prepare for the afterparty. The performance space in the Air room was immaculate; a true aerialist’s wonderland. The lighting and atmosphere made it feel as if one were among the clouds; shifting gradually between day and night. He was absolutely in his element, pun intended.

Body paint and glitter was his costume of choice, opting for mesh dance shorts as well to keep things held in place. But by the end of the night, those too would be gone. It was what was expected, after all. The performers were all top notch in their particular skills, but many came to watch for the novelty of it all. Especially in those later hours, when the dancers started performing together on the various contraptions. 

He had spent hours practicing with Vesdrina and Aluzen, two of the same performers from last year with whom he had amazing chemistry. They made their performance atop the large trapeze bar look flawless. Little would anyone know that everything done, including the kissing, groping, and spontaneous sexual acts, were actually all well scripted for their own safety. The passion and lustful looks were definitely real; but that was easy when working with beautiful and talented people.

Between the performances, they rested in their personal green room, or were welcome to mingle among the crowds and, essentially, do as they please. Ryland absolutely took it as an opportunity to flirt and network. Occasionally he could be found being pulled into a dark corner, or even being openly sexualized in a variety of ways, with consent of course. There was something thrilling to him about having complete strangers fawn over and fondle him, whispering various offers for later in the evening, or for later dates. He just as much enjoyed the ones that loved to only watch as well, and would be the first to admit that exhibitionism was his top kink. This party absolutely catered to all of his desires, and it was almost a shame that it lasted for only one night.

Later into the night, or during the small hours depending on how one looked at it, he and Sera would eventually find their way back to Vixannya. No doubt by this time all of her paintings had sold, and everyone would have been greeted and made to feel welcome. She too deserved to have a wild time at her own soiree, and the two of them would absolutely provide that for her in the dark recesses of the Fire room. 

@daily-writing-challenge @vixannya @tazindrox @serazhen

#story #the elements #ryland #vixannya #sera

[sorrowschengmei]

something super random that i love to fantasize about:

modern archaelogists and historians trying to understand who were the CQL characters in an alternate reality the events of the show happened for real in Chinese history

-Meng Yao would be a historian's favourite bc there would be SO MUCH about his life. not only we'd have faithful, contemporary portraits of his likeness, all his social ascension and battles and everything would be documented. he'd definitely become the star of a... period drama!

-Wei Wuxian would be as polarising as he was in life. there are records about him being handsome, but why the only portraits of him we have are of ugly, demonic bald men? was the Yiling Laozu a class conscious hero ahead of his time or a sadistic tyrant?

-the Lans would be also quite well documented... from around CQL's time forward. historians would lament the tragic loss of documents in the Cloud Recesses incident. still, the clan's preceits would be a goldmine to understand customs of the period.

-the handsome portrait of Lan Wangji made by Wei Wuxian would grant him some fancy nickname among historians [and tumblr millennials with thirst for historical figures] and likely a cultlike following

-the Wen would become a big ass void in the studies of this era. most information about them would come from HELLA biased sources, damaged artifacts and fragments of bone. that would inspire some Western who works for History Channel to make a show 'The Lost Legacy of the Wen'

-the Jiang could go two ways: famed and well documented by their descendants who kept all the remaining documents and artifacts, or just a void like the Wen. the Lotus Pier Massacre would go down as a major event, and possibly inspire a lot of modern artists and showrunners

-the Nie would reach our times involved in mysteries. the Unclean Realm would become a visitation place, but much of the history of its former inhabitants would be hard to understand. why they always die early? what happened to Red Blade Master? was Nie Huaisang a cultivator?

-nobody would know what happened at Yi City. the area has bad feng shui, so it would remain almost untouched until the 20th century, and become subject of all sort of ghost stories. there would be found the bones of a malnourished teen girl, a young man with injured  orbital bones, and another young man with a malformation on his left hand indicating he suffered an injury in childhood that left him disabled.

-some historians would attribute these bones to the infamous Xue Yang, said to have murdered 50 people in one night at age 15 and other  legendary and ahistorical rumours. many people would believe he never existed at all, as there's no mention to his name in any official document-- the only Xue Yang recorded was accused and then released, probably some unfortunate innocent who shared a name with the myth. there would be, however, records of a Xue Chengmei working at Jinlintai in a particularly gruesome era of the clan... 

-talking of other Jins, they'd be also well documented. Jinlintai itself would probably become a touristic attraction, and be used to film period drama

#the untamed #yunmeng jiang #lanling jin #yi city #jin guangyao #wei wuxian #xue yang #Sorrowful Thoughts

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Like it was yesterday

Warnings: angst, mentions of past physical abuse, violence

This is part 1 of 2! Special thanks to @sasukimimochi for helping me with the title for this piece <3

See you on part 2!

The first strike pulls the breath out of him, the second hurts like he's being seared into with hot iron.

The third feels familiar.

If he tries hard enough - which isn't hard at all - he almost sees the shape of Madam Yu's shoes and the lace sewn into the end of her robes moving before his kneeling form as she prepares for the next strike.

It's difficult to say how that makes him feel.

The Lan discipline whip hurts both less and more than Zidian used to. Wei Wuxian can't decide which it is. Perhaps there is no difference, after all.

He's hated this punishment more than any other. He could happily take anything, knowing it would end and he'd forget it quickly, like he did most things like that.

Whip wounds aren't forgettable.

Even if his golden core healed them.

All Wei Wuxian has ever wanted was a family. A place of his own, a handful of people to love and to love him in return.

He has not found that in his youth. Not with the Jiang family, and only painfully temporarily with the Wens.

He had foolishly thought his home had been meant to be the Cloud Recesses, with the Lan. With his husband, and their son, and their many unofficially adopted juniors - and, with time, the rest of the clan.

The discipline whip strikes cruelly against Wei Wuxian's back and he realizes he has been wrong to think that.

Perhaps he is just not meant to have a family at all. He doesn't fit, he's always wrong, too loud, too troublesome, too much.

And despite all that, not enough still.

By the time the whip lands down on his body a fifth time, Wei Wuxian can no longer hold in a soft, pained sound, a muffled whimper barely escaping his lips.

He has learned not to voice out his pain - Madam Yu used to hate it, said he had no reason to cry or scream because he was only receiving the consequences of his actions. She became angrier if he let out any sounds, and endeavored to make it hurt more just so he would have a "real reason" to scream about.

And so, Wei Wuxian learned to endure pain soundlessly, and only let himself voice it out when it became unbearable.

He had screamed his throat raw as he lived his first wretched days in the Burial Mounds - and again when Jiang Yanli died.

He won't scream like that now - it doesn't hurt nearly as much as those did. Or perhaps it's the familiarity of it.

But this isn't his first body, used to the abuse to the point of desensitization.

So when a second whimper escapes him, it surprises Wei Wuxian more than the pain of the whip beating down against his back.

Are they being more vicious or is he that weak now?

Regardless, at least he is used to this. If it has been, Heavens forbid, A-Yuan or Jingyi... they're so young and fragile, how could they have taken this themselves? At least Wei Wuxian can handle it. And he can handle the knowledge of it.

He wouldn't have been able to live knowing his children had been punished so heartlessly because of him, to accept that their skin would forever be marked with scars of Wei Wuxian's own failures.

Perhaps that's why he hasn't fainted yet, why he hasn't died yet. The knowledge that he's saving the little ones from a fate like this is like a healing balm, a barrier between Wei Wuxian and the pain that bites into him the more the whip slashes into his flesh.

He thinks, fleetingly, his vision blurring with the bloodloss, of Lan Zhan. Of how he took this 33 times for Wei Wuxian, of how much it must have hurt him, of how he would have stubbornly refused to make a sound.

If he could have, if he had known, Wei Wuxian would have taken the punishment in his place just like he is doing right now in place of the children.

And it would have killed him, of course, but back then, he was dying anyway - and at least nobody would have been marked because of him.

Nobody else would have had to suffer because of him, after so many people already had.

Perhaps all this is retribution for that, too. Perhaps dying had not been enough.

All Wei Wuxian regrets is that he hadn't known - hadn't known the last time he saw his husband had been the last. He would have cherished it so much more, soaked up his warmth and scent and affection so much greedier.

He never got to do that the first time he died either.

And he knows he is dying, because just like back then, before he passed, he saw Lan Wangji's image walking in the distance - and had no power to tell him his last three words before the world faded and he faded with it.

---

Lan Wangji draws his sword with a violent gesture as he runs to the ancestral hall. Spiritual energy runs off the blade like flames, bright like an earth-bound sun, scorching the air. There is so much hatred in his eyes that his pupils drown in it, and when the guarding disciples see him, they flee like cowards to save their lives.

Lan Wangji breaks the doors off their hinges as he bursts through, the sound deafening.

For a moment, all he sees is targets. Cattle to be slaughtered.

Then, he sees his uncle.

And, laying on the ground, kneeling on the floor that should have been marble white, a motionless Wei Wuxian.

Lan Qiren screams out something but Lan Wangji does not hear it.

A fury of spiritual energy swirls around the room all of a sudden, like a birthing hurricane, and once again, Lan Wangji sees nothing but targets.

But he does not care about them.

All he cares about is the love of his life, slumped over, his back a gory mess of skin and blood, drained of color, perhaps even of life.

If they killed Wei Ying, Lan Wangji is going to kill all of them in retribution - and then he is going to kill himself. He will not live in a world where Wei Ying is once again a name without a voice, a body, a soul - even more so if his own family had been the ones to take Wei Ying from him.

Carefully, with shaking hands and tearful eyes, Lan Wangji checks for a pulse.

There is none.

But Wei Ying is not dead.

Thin wisps of resentful energy crawl up his body, disappearing into his skin, and Lan Wangji feels the way they move like qi in his husband's meridians.

They swirl around the dying golden core in his body as if to bring it back to life, and they weave around the wounds of his back like bandages.

Lan Wangji feels the faintest warmth of a breath against his neck, a twitch of a hand.

Wei Ying's heart remains still.

But he is breathing now, regularly, and, though cold, his hand is holding Lan Wangji's with resolve.

Lan Wangji calms, and so does the burst of spiritual energy that's wrecked through the ancestral hall.

But when Wei Ying finally opens his eyes, they're not his own.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

[shiningwonderland]

Tokiya Ichinose (Repeat) Memorial

A day that felt like a dream

Translator: Koto (twitter: kotowari16) Proofreader: Mimi (twitter: _mimisaurora), Raz (twitter: agnadance) Editor: Pam (twitter: skywyld), Sasteria (tumblr: forestofsecret), Terry (twitter: turtlemudge), Mae (twitter: itoshikimaegirl)

Things have gotten complicated.

To think that I’d be co-starring with HAYATO….

Saotome-san’s choices have me perplexed.

It was precisely because I wanted to avoid getting too involved with HAYATO that I went through the trouble of choosing and enrolling in Saotome Academy....

And yet….

"Wah, oh my gosh… HAYATO-sama is coming… HAYATO-sama is…."

The sparkle in Nanami-san’s eyes was….

I know you’re getting the opportunity to see your favorite idol in real life, but aren’t you getting a little too carried away?

Today was the first time in a week that we had a lesson in the recording room….

But Nanami-san had been acting like this ever since we received the news about Ohayaho~News earlier this morning.

She took her lessons seriously, but seemed to have her head in the clouds during recess and lunch breaks.

Even now, during the preparation for our lesson, her thoughts were completely occupied by HAYATO.

"Nanami-san… Aren’t you a bit too happy to be able to meet your favorite idol?"

"Eh?! Ah, aaaaaaaaaah, meeting him, that’s ridiculous. If I could catch a glimpse from afar, if only for a second… that would be more than enough to make me happy!"

What’s she going on about…?

If she’s his fan, wouldn’t it be obvious to want to talk to him?

"You can at least talk to him in some situations, can't you?"

"Eh… ah… no… that—I don’t want to intrude on him... and I wouldn’t want to end up bothering him either…."

She became extremely wary and made herself even smaller than she already was.

"In the meantime, since I’m going to be talking to HAYATO tomorrow, is there anything you want me to bring up?"

Suspecting she might ask for an autograph, I asked the question spitefully.

"Please do your best!"

She clenched her fists tightly and sounded as joyful as possible.

That wasn't what I was asking, but….

It looked like we weren’t quite on the same page.

"It’s his job. So, of course, he’ll do it perfectly. But you are HAYATO’s fan, right?"

"Yeah! I love him!"

An immediate answer….

And with a big smile, even….

She's quite remarkable.

"If you are a fan, then wouldn’t you want to talk to him personally?"

"Of course! But now isn’t the time. HAYATO-sama is my favorite idol, my inspiration, and… my dream…. Someday, when I’ve become a great composer, my dream is for him to sing my song. That’s why, until then, it’s enough for me to just be a fan who cheers him on from afar!"

Her eyes were shining even more than before as she talked about her dream.

The sight itself was beautiful, but for some reason it only irritated me.

"I see…. But the song you should be writing right now is mine. If you fail to debut, that dream won’t come true."

"I know! I’ll do my best! First is the recording test, right? Time to study, time to study ♪"

She prepared herself for the lesson in a good mood.

HAYATO’s impending arrival didn't distract me or interfere with my classes and lessons.

However….

Those sparkling eyes, in addition to her being so excited….

There was nothing I could do about it, was there?

"Are you ready? I’m going to sing."

She was doing precisely what she needed to do. And yet, why, why was this so frustrating…?

And so, the next day.

HAYATO came to our school.

There was still something small that needed to be done, so I asked Nanami-san to take care of it and came to school early.

Ohayaho~News filming started early in the morning.

In spite of having arrived at the academy much earlier than on a normal school day, Nanami-san had already made it to our meeting place.

"So this place is going to be featured on Ohayaho~News today. How lovely."

You’re looking quite chipper this morning.

She had been like this during yesterday’s lesson, and the excitement had still been there on the way back home. Had she sustained it all this time? If that was the case, that was some tremendous energy she had.

What was it about HAYATO that animated her so much?

What was it about HAYATO that was so charming…?

HAYATO and me….

Why was it that HAYATO was the only one who provided her energy when we looked almost exactly the same…?

It had been puzzling me ever since yesterday.

I have to focus and stop worrying about unnecessary problems… because… I have work to do.

"Ah. Ichinose-san! Good morning. I hope you have a good day at work today."

"Yeah, likewise, have a good day."

I wondered what exactly she thought of me.

HAYATO or me, whose existence would have the greatest meaning to her…?

I believed I had put in some of my own effort as her partner, but….

I'd been pretty strict and unrelenting with her ever since school started, so she might not think too highly of me.

I thought of something else and hurriedly denied it: the idea that maybe she was enduring it just because my face resembled Hayato's, but was actually suffering.

Let's forget about it for now.

Because this is an important job that has been given to me, Ichinose Tokiya….

#tokiya repeat #tokiya ichinose #utapri

[dual-domination]

I would love to see you write something post canon, SangCheng, where NHS decides he's given too much of himself to his vengeance plot and wants to finally reach for something for himself - that something being a chance at love with the "one who got away", JC.

~~As you never got away~~

There was a certain melancholy in the soft mist that covered the water, leaving the lotuses looking as if they were wandering on clouds, ethereal ghosts that life had left in a tired heart like Huaisang's. There, on Lotus Pier, under a cloudy night sky, it was as if all the lights had decided to go out for him. He waved the fan gently, but he had gotten out of the habit of hiding his face with that object. His jade-green robe was a delicacy he'd finally indulged in, after so many years trapped in shades of gray. Too many years trapped only in what was suffocating his heart and he hadn't let anything distract him. However, now, Nie Huaisang was finally trying to breathe, although not everything had gone the best way and some tragedy had remained for him. There was still the one who got away, after all, despite everything. He walked alone on the wooden platform until he reached the small pavilion suspended over the water, the lanterns lit around creating beautiful reflections between the mist and the flowers. In the center of the pavilion, tea on the table waited. The man who was a dear friend to him had already dismissed servants and disciples, willing to receive Leader Nie with a goodwill that few people would have at that time, especially those who knew or believed they knew who Huaisang really was.

Closing the fan, he bowed before pulling back the sleeves of his robe and sitting facing each other.

 "A-Cheng…" 

"It's been a long time since you called me that." Jiang Cheng muttered under his breath, not really a complaint, as he poured tea to his visitor. 

"It's been a long time since I felt like I could call anyone so intimately. But it used to be that way before and I don't wish it had changed." 

"It's also been a long time since we changed, but… I believe we've been forced to change a little more lately." 

"Does that mean I can't call you that anymore?" 

"That's not what I meant." Leader Jiang could be a difficult person for almost everyone, but Huaisang was not included in that. Especially since he now identified better with certain pains, the ones Huaisang seemed to have buried many years before - but he'd never let go. "But what does it really mean to still be able to call me that? Seriously, Huaisang." 

"It means you're not someone I've completely lost. Am I wrong?"

"I don't know what you want from me."

Leader Nie stretched out his delicate hand across the table, touching the back of Jiang Cheng's hand lightly with his fingertips.

"Neither of us ever allowed ourselves to build a real life. We've lived too long in the pains of the past, each of us in a different way… but honestly, a-Cheng… I've never stopped thinking about you."

Jiang Cheng didn't move his hand, didn't walk away, but he wasn't sure what to do for a moment either.

"It wouldn't be easy for us."

"It wouldn't be impossible either."

"Fifteen years ago, I wouldn't have thought so carefully, despite the chaos that era was immersed in..."

"Fifteen years ago did I have a place in your heart?"

"You have a place in my heart since we studied together at Cloud Recesses."

"So I'm afraid I'll have to be more persistent as I'm not going to give up on a man who really reciprocates me."

"I think it would be foolish for me to keep fighting if I never intended to push you away… but I don't know where we can go with this."

"I don't do anything by halves, now you know that."

"I'm going to have to learn to control my tongue so I don't end up calling the Chief Cultivator inappropriately in public..." Finally Jiang Cheng changed his serious expression, the arc of a smile starting to form on his lips as he realized that after everything, he had someone who was not completely lost to him. "But I repeat it won't be easy, a-Sang…"

"Sandu Shengshou is not a man who usually runs away from challenges."

The fan fell off the table and the empty cups tipped over and rolled sideways as Huaisang leaned over to reach the other, his hands and one knee braced on the furniture only to reach Leader Jiang's mouth in a kiss.

In the sky, the clouds were dispersing, finally giving way to the stars.

#thank you jaime! #now I need 15 more prompts/requests jsksjsjskshjsa #I love Sangcheng with all my heart #sorry if I messed up things and it's too short 😅 #sangcheng #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #lotus pier #I love romance at Lotus Pier #mdzs fic #hyde dual-domination

[simpingcowboy]

"Why Did You Do It?"

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader, established relationship

Warnings: Angst, mentions of systems of oppression

Word Count: 600~ ficlet

Summary: Years after the events of WW84. You ask your boyfriend Maxwell Lord why he became the dreamstone and threw the world into chaos.

Author's Note: I love Maxwell, and wanna send him to therapy so badly. Until then, we'll get some nice talking it out with a romantic partner instead. 

"Max…why did you do it?"

     You'd never asked him before. It was long a thing of the past. Something you inevitably always knew about him. Something most everyone who saw the broadcast that day knew him by. You never felt compelled to ask. The answer was obvious enough. It was the same fate that engulfed a world of people into its grasp. Greed.

     Even now, it lingers. A horrible reminder of the worst of mankind. Of the terrible greed that rots us all from the inside out. A haunting image with your now partner, Maxwell Lord being the terrible poster child to. The visual of him sick and decaying on your TV screen still carved into the terrible recesses of your mind. 

     Most of the world saw him as a real life monster, who came to throw the world into chaos. Many never forgave him. You never thought you would either. Let alone end up falling in love with him. How could you ever love someone so evil so corrupted. Yet, here he sat. Your partner of several years. Opposite of you on the couch in your shared apartment. 

     Warm brown hair messy from a day's work. Work shirt halfway unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. His stiff work pants swapped out for comfortable blue jeans. Tracing further down his body, mismatched socks cover his feet. He was just a man. So far from the monster you once believed him to be.

"Max…why did you do it?"

Max shifts his attention over to you. Shuffling his position on the couch to face you. 

"What did you say, Mi Amor?"

"Maxwell. Why did you do it?"

He knows what you're asking.

     In your time together you'd never asked, he hoped you never would. He has long crafted an automated response, for all the strangers that came up and asked. For all the press speeches and public apologies he made. A perfect response that held him accountable while still playing on others sympathies. After all, most of the world has collaborated in his efforts and were they not just as guilty as him? But he knew that wasn't enough for you. You needed- no deserved more than that. You deserved the truth. Max only hoped you'd be understanding. 

     Max let's out a soft sigh as he presses himself against the couch letting his whole body relax. His head rolls back along the edge of the couch and he lazily closes his eyes.

"It was never about money…or power…or even greed." 

     He opens his eyes briefly to catch your initial response before closing them tightly again.

 He couldn't face you and the truth simultaneously. 

"I wanted to be someone. I wanted people to think I was worth something… No one even looked at me. I was a poor immigrant. I was nobody. I just wanted to be respected…I wanted to be treated like everyone else. I wanted my son to be treated like everyone else. Money and power…were just the easiest way to get that."

Max exhales dramatically. The metaphysical sin no longer feeling nearly as heavy. 

"That is why. Mi Vida." He reiterates as he opens his eyes back up to look at you, devastation and desperation cloud his gaze. "And I- I do not think I am so bad for that", a silent tear escapes Max and races down his cheek. 

"Maxwell" you say in a hushed tone as you reach out to take his tear stricken cheek in your hand "I love you" and you do. You love Max Lord. The face of greed, the minister of evil, the man who was once the dream stone itself. But you also love Maxwell Lorenzo the man who loved his son and just like any parent was so desperate to make the world a better place for his child. Maxwell Lord was not a bad man. Nor a particularly good one. He was just a man lost in the world, always trying to make a way for himself. 

"I love you." You repeat as more tears fall. Max pulls you into him as he begins to weep into your chest. 

"I love you…

I love you Maxwell."

#I love Maxie so much ;-; #ww84 #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #maxwell lord fanfic #max lord #pedro pascal character fanfiction #max lord x reader #Am writes