#nie huaisan

[robininthelabyrinth]

NMJ’s mother really was a War Goddess. Instead of dying from JGY’s poisoned song, NMJ ascends instead.

ao3

Donghua

Nie Huaisang saw the exact moment when it happened.

It was a choice, because it was always a choice – the books spoke of a lucky moment, a chance meeting with fate that can only be encountered and not searched for, but they also spoke of seizing that moment, of taking advantage of it. Of how the line between divinity and death was as thin as thread, how nothing could be gained without loss.

Nie Huaisang saw the qi deviation hit his brother the same way it hit his father, curdling all that magnificent cultivation inside of him and turning it rotten, every piece of him rising up against him in revolt – his own body betraying him, his anger poisoning him, his mind and soul cracking into pieces around him. He saw his brother raise up his saber and swing it against invisible enemies, blind, the spiritual energy in his eyes lying to him, his instincts lying to him, the world lying to him. He heard his brother roar in as much pain as anger. He felt as much as saw or heard his brother rushing at him, his saber at the ready, ready to strike Nie Huaisang down and drag them both into the grave.

Nie Huaisang, who had been the one who had triggered this final, fatal burst of rage.

Nie Huaisang, who his brother loved more than anything.

Nie Huaisang saw the moment his brother realized who was standing in front of him.

He saw the moment his brother chose to turn his saber on himself, instead.

“No!” he shouted, sick to his stomach. “Da-ge!”

His brother was shouting, he was shouting, Baxia was screaming –

There was a dull sound.

Later, Nie Huaisang wondered at that. Shouldn’t divinity come with grandeur, with glory and splendor? The shrill cry of the flute, the rumble of thunder, an entire army of Lan playing their song-spells all in unison to welcome a new god into the world?

There wasn’t anything like that. It was just a thud, dull and lifeless – steel hitting rock and bouncing off.

Nie Huaisang heard his brother gasp.

He saw him fall to his knees, Baxia dropping point-down to the ground, digging in deep.

He saw –

He saw no blood on her.

There should have been blood on her. He’d seen the saber go in, the way his brother had aimed it – it would have been a quick death if he’d aimed true, a slow one if he was false, but death no matter what; it had been Nie Mingjue or Nie Huaisang, a choice, and Nie Mingjue had chosen his brother over himself.

He’d had nothing left to him at that point. A qi deviation was so insidious because of what it did to the mind, to the spirit, the body and soul both affected; his ability to think and even his baseline personality would have shattered around him, warping wildly until black was white and good and evil were reversed. The qi deviation stripped everything away from him.

All that remained was what he had made of himself.

Nie Huaisang recalled that his brother had once said to him that ethics were nothing more than another muscle – something that needed to be trained, time and time again, in just the same way as one would train a saber or a skill, until it was engraved within you, burned into the muscle memory where your mind had no say. You had to make the right decision time and time again, always and ever, and if you did, if you lived your life as righteous as you could be all the way from beginning to end, it would become an inseparable part of you. You would die as you lived; there would never be a situation where you would willingly turn your face away from righteousness, never a moment where you would find yourself having to explain, to minimize, to apologize, to say But if the situation were only reversed, you would understand.

His brother had trained his body to wield his saber, had trained his mind to be righteous, always, no matter the cost, and had trained his heart to love his brother more than anything else in the world.

He had struck true.

Baxia had just – bounced off.

Nie Huaisang took a step forward, intending to rush forward but stymied by the bizarre lack of blood on Baxia’s blade, confused and perturbed, and he saw his brother’s hand flicker just slightly, a small gesture, trying to ward him off, push him away.

“Huaisang!” he heard Meng Yao – no, it was Jin Guangyao, he heard Jin Guangyao calling to him. “Huaisang, get back, he can’t see you!”

Nie Huaisang took another step forward instead.

“Huaisang, it’s too late! He’s already gone!”

“No,” he said blankly, and held up his hand to stop Jin Guangyao from rushing forward. “No, he’s – he’s not.”

His brother’s fingers had opened and Baxia had fallen to the ground.

Nie Mingjue had not fallen with her.

Instead he lifted up his hands to his bleeding eyes, staring at them as if he’d never seen them before.

“What…what’s going on?” Jin Guangyao asked, coming to a halt. His lips were twisted in a way Nie Huaisang had never seen before, twisting worse than they had a moment before when he’d thought he was witnessing Nie Mingjue’s death, and Nie Huaisang glanced at him briefly in askance, sensing something dark where before he’d seen only light, but before the thought could crystalize he turned his attention back on his brother, who was pulling at his clothing as if the touch of the cloth on his back was burning him.

“Something’s wrong,” Nie Huaisang said, and felt something cold in his belly. This wasn’t how a qi deviation went. He’d seen their father die slowly – he knew what they were like. This wasn’t that. This was…something else. “Something…I don’t know. There was a sound.”

Jin Guangyao didn’t understand what Nie Huaisang meant, of course. Not yet.

He would.

He’d understand later, once Nie Mingjue finished ripping off his clothing, tearing at it wildly with his blunt fingernails – he would see, as Nie Huaisang saw, the tear that went beyond his clothing and into his skin, a nasty, jagged thing, the fierce viciousness of Baxia’s teeth in flesh…only there was no blood.

No blood on his skin, just as there was no blood on Baxia.

No blood, and there was no blood when Nie Mingjue finished getting through his clothing and started tearing at his skin instead. It came off easily, as if it had suddenly gone paper-thin, peeling off of him in long strips, and beneath it was another skin as beautiful and lustrous as jade. There were no scars on that skin, no blemishes – it was as if all the life experiences that had made Nie Mingjue Nie Mingjue were being peeled off along with his skin, as if he were shedding his humanity along with it.

Nie Huaisang was suddenly possessed of a terrible feeling as he watched. Not merely revulsion, as any human would feel to see such a sight, but a deeper fear than that, the same that had grasped him when he had seen the qi deviation; a belief that if his brother kept on going the way he was going, Nie Huaisang would lose him forever.

“Da-ge!” he cried out, and stepped forward. Jin Guangyao had long ago stopped any pretense of holding him back, staring blankly at Nie Mingjue as if disbelieving the evidence of his own eyes. “Da-ge, stop – please – I don’t want you to go..!”

Nie Mingjue was nearly done ripping himself to pieces, but he looked up when he heard Nie Huaisang’s cry. His eyes were shining gold, as if his golden core had suddenly gotten so strong inside of him that it was pouring out of him through all the apertures of his face, eyes and nose and mouth. Jade skin and golden eyes, lips of ruby and hair of onyx; he didn’t look human any longer. He looked like a statute.

His lips moved, first aimlessly, and then, as if, struggling to form sounds: “Huai – sang –”

Above their heads, thunder rumbled, the belated sound that Nie Huaisang might’ve expected – it had been a clear day before, but it was dark now, clouds gathering above their heads. Nie Mingjue put it together faster than Nie Huaisang did, because of course he did, and his hand dipped down into the earth in a quick motion, flicking sand up into Nie Huaisang’s face and making him flinch and throw up his hands to covers his face, closing his eyes, and it was only because of that that he wasn’t looking at Nie Mingjue when the lightning descended all at once, nine bursts of it that carved their way into Nie Huaisang’s eyelids nonetheless.

Next to him, behind him, Jin Guangyao screamed, thin and frail.

When Nie Huaisang finally pried his eyes open once more, his brother was gone. All that was left behind him was the blasted earth, shining dully with black glass where the lightning had turned sand to stone, and the remnants of his brother’s clothing – the Nie sect seal that he wore at his belt, the armor at his shoulders, a few pieces of green and gold…

Baxia was gone, too.

Nie Huaisang fell to his knees, abruptly inconsolable. His da-ge wasn’t dead, no, but he was gone all the same. The weight of the Nie sect would fall upon him, now, all alone, and he’d never even gotten the chance to say good-bye.

He did not know if his brother would be able to descend once more from the heavens – he did not know what he would be like if he did, or even whether he would be able to look upon Nie Mingjue any longer without scorching out his vision the way Jin Guangyao’s had been, the other man now visibly clearly permanently blinded. He did not know if his brother’s last desperate cry of his name meant that he’d survived the qi deviation intact, remembering who Nie Huaisang was and what he meant to him, or if that, too, had been the last remnants of instinct buried so deep that nothing, not even madness, could tear it loose. He knew only that the life he had once lived, a life with him and his brother together, was forever lost.

“Da-ge…” Nie Huaisang lifted his hands to his face to hide his tears as he sobbed. “Da-ge, come back to me.”

There was no response.

After a while, he lifted up his head, and turned to look at Jin Guangyao, now unconscious, unconscious and blind.

He thought about that twisted expression he’d seen, however briefly. He thought about how his brother, who was just before he was anything else, had sought to protect him, but not this other brother he’d sworn to be true towards. He thought about how much Jin Guangyao wanted to be accepted by that vile excuse of a father of his, and how his brother had been fighting with said father. He thought about –

Well.

They said that if you wanted something from the gods, you needed to sacrifice something significant. What could be more significant than a traitor who tried to kill that which was most precious to you, and the person he did it for?

Nie Huaisang stood up and went over to stand by Jin Guangyao, looking down at him.

“Don’t worry, san-ge,” he crooned. “We’re going to get him back – and you’re going to help.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #body horror #I guess?

[multifandom-disaster]

Jin GuangYao: Wei WuXian is supposed to be dead.

Nie HuaiSan: Well it appears he’s gotten better.

#mdzs #mdzs incorrect quotes #incorrect mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #incorrect quotes

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Soldier, Poet, King

Part 8

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

[AO3] [Masterpost]

[Potential TW for graphic violence: Jin Guangyao has vivid fantasies of how he'd like to murder Jin Guangshan, though he doesn't act on any of them of course]

[Yet 👀]

-/-

It takes roughly a week of doing very little save resting to recover from the Drift experiment, though Lan Xichen doesn’t have much to complain about. It’s an excuse to spend an unrealistic amount of time in bed with Jin Guangyao, and though they don’t do anything more strenuous than kiss in deference to Nie Mingjue’s gruff brand of mother-henning them, it’s still lovely. Lan Xichen knows, of course, that the lack of work chafes at Jin Guangyao’s nerves when he’s so used to running things around the shatterdome in nearly every way, but he privately thinks that the enforced break is good for him.

That being said, it is still a relief when the doctor declares them well enough to return to light duty, though they’re forbidden from further Drift experiments for at least another two weeks to ensure they don’t do permanent damage to themselves or each other. Jin Guangyao disappears almost immediately after a few parting kisses to go see to his duties that he’s been forced to neglect (read: delegate), and Lan Xichen finds himself wandering around the shatterdome by himself without much direction.

After all - he’s not…really…a pilot anymore. It’s a strange sort of limbo to exist in, not knowing whether or not he’ll ever step into a Jaeger again. He supposes he could still be asked to run Jade Dragon with Lan Wangji - in fact he probably will before either his brother or Wei Wuxian spills the secret that Lan Wangji longs to retire as soon as possible. Should he be called back into rotation as Wangji’s copilot, he’ll go happily and without a word of complaint. 

But his days of training hard in between each run are over. Lan Wangji’s training with Wei Wuxian is time-consuming and necessary so early in their partnership to ensure they’ll be able to fight together safely. Lan Xichen would only be intruding and interfering with Jin Guangyao’s goals with this project if he were to step in and insist on training with his brother, especially considering it’s not even necessary for them anymore so many years into their own partnership. Of course, following the rather disastrous experiments with Jiang Wanyin and Qin Su, Nie Mingjue had instructed him to train with the others and not just his brother in case of finding another suitable Drift. Now that he’s their partner though, and not a viable partner to any of the other active duty pilots, it all seems a bit less..urgent.

He’s not used to finding himself at loose ends, considering how staunchly he’d trained as a child first to lead the family and then as a young man to bring righteous justice to the world by piloting a Jaeger when the world went insane. He’s never really had a moment in his life in which what he could do with his time was left up to him and his whims, and he’s startled to find that the only desire he has that he can really articulate is that he wants to spend time with his partners.

With the exception of their flirtation when Lan Xichen had helped head off Nie Mingjue’s migraine a week ago, Nie Mingjue has been keeping something of a polite distance while Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao have been recovering. He’s been nothing but polite and indulgent, accepting teasing remarks with minimal grumbling and only once did he throw a pillow at Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao to stop them laughing at a particularly pointed innuendo that had made Nie Mingjue blush a deep crimson even in the privacy of their quarters. Lan Xichen doesn’t doubt that Nie Mingjue wants him, but the other man’s sense of propriety is charmingly old-fashioned despite the fact that he’d apparently been the one to push for their somewhat unorthodox relationship in the first place.

Lan Xichen stands by his assessment from that night after overhearing Nie Mingjue’s short conversation with Nie Huaisang - he’s a fascinating man, and Lan Xichen desperately wants to understand every single thing there is to know about him.

“He’s in the weight room,” Nie Zonghui says as soon as Lan Xichen pokes his head into their shared office. “Had a meeting with Jin Guangshan this morning so I sent him to burn off some energy.”

“Ah - thank you, Zonghui.”

“Hey-” Lan Xichen pauses in his retreat to find Nie Zonghui studying him with slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re feeling better, then?”

“Yes, A-Yao and I have both been given permission to return to light work.”

“Good, Mingjue’s been moping all week. I don’t need him for anything else today, so make sure you cheer him up.”

Any questions he might have as to if Nie Zonghui is insinuating what he seems to be are answered by the self-satisfied smirk on the man’s face as he turns back to his work and Lan Xichen disguises a laugh as a delicate little cough. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one who thinks Nie Mingjue could do with a very particular brand of relaxation.

All that remains is to convince Nie Mingjue himself.

The irregular staccato thuds of someone testing a sandbag’s limits reaches him first as he approaches the weight room, followed shortly after by the clanking of bars and various other familiar sounds ubiquitous to gyms everywhere. He resists the urge to pout that Nie Mingjue won’t be alone for him to lay him down on a weight bench and have his way with him, but perhaps some other time.

“Hey Xichen,” Jiang Wanyin greets the moment he crosses the threshold, halfway through a rep on the pulldown machine. “Feeling better?”

“Hello Wanyin - yes, much better. I would like to apologize for the result of our Drift.” He hadn’t been able to find Jiang Wanyin after everything, and then he’d skipped breakfast the morning after, leaving him no chance to see the other and apologize properly.

As he’d expected, Jiang Wanyin deflects instantly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it, it’s whatever. You looking for Wangji?”

“Ah - no, actually, Chifeng-Zun. I was told he’s here.”

Jiang Wanyin jerks his chin in the direction of the back corner past the rows of equipment just in time for Nie Mingjue to land a punch so solid that the boom of it echoes around the room. Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow when he spots his partner’s bare hands. 

“You’re going to break your knuckles,” he chides once he’s close enough to properly appreciate the sight of Nie Mingjue sweaty and out of breath, glaring at him half-heartedly.

“I know how to throw a punch, Xichen. What are you doing down here?”

“I have been released from my bedrest, and I wanted to discuss something with you. Are you nearly finished teaching the punching bag a lesson?”

“Just about. You trying to give these hens even more gossip fodder?” He asks the last in a quiet aside with a sidelong look at the rest of the room. Lan Xichen does the same only to spot everyone hastily looking away from the pair of them to go back to their workouts with varying degrees of embarrassment. Jin Zixuan in particular looks like he’s at risk of his hair catching on fire from the strength of his blush, though that seems relatively par for the course from what Lan Xichen has been able to gather of the man’s rather bumbling sort of personality (so at odds with the haughty persona he maintains for the media).

“I assume word has spread that I have been in bed with A-Yao this week?” He doesn’t bother lowering his voice any more than usual; he usually speaks softly enough to make eavesdropping more difficult, but Jin Zixun, sitting nearest to them, still racks his barbell harder than necessary and stands up from the benchpress in a huff to plonk himself down on a different piece of equipment clear across the room.

“Not much can stay secret around here when pilots are the worst gossips in the world.”

“It’s not gossip if we’d just see it in each other’s heads anyway, Chifeng-Zun!” Wei Wuxian shouts across the room. “We might as well tell each other everything we know before any siblings can be ahhhh surprised in the Drift, and besides it’s all about ~communication~ as Lan Zhan so helpfully keeps reminding me.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Shut up Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Wanyin snaps over Lan Wangji’s quiet censure, flinging the sweaty towel around his neck at his brother’s face. “You have absolutely no fucking shame!”

“Aiyah, shame is overrated, didi! Loosen up,” Wei Wuxian laughs. Lan Xichen glances at Lan Wangji and is unsurprised to find his brother only looks distantly smug in the moment before he flows into a backbend on his yoga mat, set up near enough to where Wei Wuxian is practicing with his staff for them to chat if they want. Lan Xichen deems everyone sufficiently distracted to look back at Nie Mingjue and offer him a quick wink, which fortunately is still capable of making him blush.

“Let me just get cleaned up and I’ll head out with you.”

“Take your time.”

When Nie Mingjue reemerges and falls in at Lan Xichen’s side, he turns his steps back in the direction of the living quarters rather than any of the areas where Nie Mingjue might reasonably be found working during the day.

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue warns him when they turn the final corner and, content in their lack of an audience, Lan Xichen takes Nie Mingjue’s hand in his and coaxes him the last few yards to their door.

“Humor me, Mingjue. Zonghui told me he won’t need you for anything else today, it’s alright.”

Lan Xichen ignores Nie Mingjue’s grumbling about his cousin and his meddling in favor of bullying the man into their room, sliding the door shut with a clang behind them.

“Do you actually want to talk about anything?”

“Talking is lovely,” Lan Xichen says agreeably with a bit of a shrug. He steps forward to run his hands slowly up the strong planes of Nie Mingjue’s chest, across his shoulders. “I would like to spend time with you in any way that would help you after it sounds like you’ve had a rough morning. Zonghui told me you had a meeting with Jin Guangshan.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression grows predictably thunderous at the reminder. In an attempt to reclaim his attention, Lan Xichen cups his partner’s jaw and brushes his thumbs against his cheeks in slow, careful strokes. 

“Fucking monster,” Nie Mingjue growls; Lan Xichen steps closer until their chests are nearly touching and Nie Mingjue’s hands settle on his waist seemingly without his conscious input. “I’d rather forget about his entire fucking existence than repeat any of the shit he says to me.”

“That can also be arranged, only say the word.” Nie Mingjue seems to rather abruptly realize the position they’re in, his hands tensing on Lan Xichen’s waist. “Zonghui said he sent you down there to expend some energy. While I am sure that punching a sandbag repeatedly is a satisfying release, I have some alternative suggestions.”

As anticipated, the double entendre has Nie Mingjue blushing a charming pink in no time and Lan Xichen can’t quite resist smiling and leaning in to nuzzle the tips of their noses together, though he doesn’t go in for a kiss quite yet. They haven’t kissed again since that first Nie Mingjue had given him when Lan Xichen had been on his knees for him, which is perhaps for the best as even just remembering that single kiss still makes him feel a bit…wobbly (in an extremely pleasant way, of course).

“Xichen - we..we haven’t really..”

“As I said, we can talk if you’d like to,” Lan Xichen reminds him gently and brushes one of his thumbs slowly down his cheek to trace the curve of his bottom lip. “Are you unsure about me?”

“No!”

“Are you uncertain about our mutual regard for A-Yao?”

“Not in the least. You look at him like he hung the fucking moon.”

“Mn, I adore him,” Lan Xichen agrees as easily as breathing. “I know you nearly as well, through him. I’ve felt his love for you, I’ve seen how much you care for him, both in his memories and through watching you together myself. I know how strongly you feel about your principles, and your morals. I know how kind you are, and how ruthless when you need to be for the sake of justice. I also feel like you hung the moon.”

Nie Mingjue takes a long, deep breath in and he doesn’t move when Lan Xichen leans in to press their lips together in a chaste kiss.

“We should do this with all three of us, first. It doesn’t feel right for the first time at least without A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue eventually mumbles, which is a concession Lan Xichen is more than willing to make.

“We can do whatever you like, as much or as little. But I have already kissed him quite a bit, and you hardly at all…”

He kisses Nie Mingjue a few more times in quick succession with clear intent, and he’s unsurprised but inordinately pleased when Nie Mingjue makes some noise of concession in the back of his throat and backs him up to press him against the metal door. It’s cool and unyielding at his back, Nie Mingjue burning hot and equally as unyielding at his front, and Lan Xichen is very abruptly aware of how little his life has prepared him for this.

Experiencing Jin Guangyao’s relationship with Nie Mingjue through the filter of his memories had given him a taste of it - a good one - and what little he and Jin Guangyao had managed to get up to together since their enforced bed rest has been another very good primer.

But Nie Mingjue doesn’t kiss him like Jin Guangyao does.

He starts carefully, gaze lowered to watch Lan Xichen’s mouth as he asks a hoarse, “Is this okay?”

Lan Xichen breathes a besotted, “Yes.” Nie Mingjue’s tongue catches the word off his lips, and then all caution is thrown to the wind. Nie Mingjue kisses like he does everything else - blunt, straightforward, disarming in his honesty. Lan Xichen’s head nearly thuds against the door with the force of it, but Nie Mingjue’s broad, hot hand is there threaded through the silk of his hair for a cushion. Lan Xichen tests out a nip to his bottom lip, tentative and a bit unsure, but when Nie Mingjue grunts a soft encouragement he tries it again, harder, only to be rewarded with a sharp jerk of Nie Mingjue’s hips against his.

Something pained and starving buried deep in the bottomless well of Lan Xichen’s chest cracks through his ribs and breaks free.

All his life he’s wanted to be touched. He’s ached for it until his skin felt like it would tear apart from the wanting. He’s kept desperate pleas to be held clenched behind his smile. He’s sobbed himself awake from dreams of being carried on his mother’s hip,or  holding his father’s and his uncle’s hands, clinging to their legs, anything to hold them close and keep them there. He used to follow after Wangji just waiting for his brother to let him pick him up and carry him despite their similarity in stature as young children, but Wangji had refused every attempt with angry heartache that Lan Xichen could never convince himself to stand in the way of. Lan Wangji, despite his silence, has always worn his emotions on his face, his heart on his sleeve, and Lan Xichen has never once been allowed to, not really.

He wants to be desperate. He wants to be needy, and he wants to be safe in it. Maybe it’s greedy, maybe it’s selfish, but no one can criticize him in here, no one can discipline him, no one can tell him to spend a week or more in isolated meditation to reflect on his dedication to his responsibilities. No one can attempt to turn him into his father, no one will praise him for carving off every inconvenient piece of himself to sacrifice on the altar of filial piety and duty like he’s learned from Lan Qiren.

“Mingjue please,” he gasps, eyes suddenly burning. “Please, please, anything-”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t try to soothe him or slow him down, and Lan Xichen lets himself get swept up in pure sensation that he’s been deprived of for decades too long.

-/-

Nie Mingjue is not a weak man. His obstinance and inflexibility have been his downfall more than once in his life, though thankfully the permanent damage so far has been minimal. He’s stubborn to a fault, bullheaded and opinionated, strong in his convictions of right and wrong.

But Lan Xichen makes him want to be weak.

He’s still so soft, so polite, gentle and genteel in a way that Nie Mingjue is becoming increasingly convinced has little place in this war. Lan Xichen begs against his lips after little more than a single heated kiss and a little roll of their hips, as if he’ll collapse in on himself if he isn’t given something pleasurable to feel. Nie Mingjue knows between one kiss and the next that Lan Xichen already has him wrapped around his finger.

“Alright,” he agrees, any lingering reservations evaporating instantly in the face of Lan Xichen’s plea. “Anything you want, I promise.”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t think about anything except the present moment, the task at hand. Lan Xichen is clinging to him like he’s terrified to feel even an inch of space between them, so Nie Mingjue bundles him close and holds him so tightly that he’s expecting him to complain, to swat at him like Jin Guangyao does when he gets too grabby. But Lan Xichen just arches his back, throws a long leg around his, yanks at his hair to pull him in close as if there’s nothing but a lack of determination stopping them from finding space to fit their bodies inside one another’s entirely.

Not that Nie Mingjue doubts that Jin Guangyao wants him, needs him just as badly as Lan Xichen does, but this is a level of pure longing that he’s never experienced before; he’d be lying to say that it isn’t heady.

He gives into it with a groan muffled and lapped up quickly by the starving press of Lan Xichen’s tongue. He kisses like a drowning man desperately clawing for air, and Nie Mingjue is there to meet him at every turn. For an unmeasured time they’re nothing but grasping hands, frantic bites, whimpers tucked into throats and punctuated with gasps for the too-rough scratch of nails on skin. Lan Xichen’s hands are already under his shirt to claw at his back, his hips, and Nie Mingjue lets him - of course he lets him.

They linger there at the door until Lan Xichen is shaking from head to toe and Nie Mingjue can taste salt between their kiss-swollen lips, but even when he turns to take Lan Xichen to bed he does it with the man wrapped up so tightly in his arms that whatever broken pieces there are of him will hopefully survive the 7-foot journey.

He hasn’t asked about the Drift between Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao, and neither of them have offered up specific information of their own accord. He doesn’t know what it is that Lan Xichen can’t stand to face, what hurts him so much that the burden of sharing it weakened Jin Guangyao so much, but he doesn’t have to know the details to know that Lan Xichen is in pain. He hides it extremely well - Nie Mingjue would have never suspected it without the experiments - but now that he knows what to look for it’s so achingly obvious.

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen mumbles against his mouth, their lips bruising and teeth sharp as they kiss. “Please-“

Nie Mingjue hates that Lan Xichen feels the need to beg for what he wants, no matter how much his body is very much on board with hearing him do it. He caves immediately, coaxing Lan Xichen down onto the too-narrow bed and giving him no time at all to adjust himself comfortably before he lays out on top of him from chest to ankle. When he does this with Jin Guangyao, he’s always careful to hold his weight on his elbows and knees, to surround his partner but never trap him (Jin Guangyao’s fight or flight instinct is in peak condition, and Nie Mingjue has learnt the hard way not to activate it).

With Lan Xichen, though, Nie Mingjue presses every inch of himself down against his partner, doing nothing at all to support his own weight other than to keep his head up to continue working on his new goal to taste every centimeter of Lan Xichen’s mouth.

It’s not necessarily about sex. Nie Mingjue had realized that the instant Lan Xichen started previcating and telling him they could do whatever he wants. He absolutely doesn’t doubt that Lan Xichen wants sex, but it’s not all he wants, or even most of what he wants if Nie Mingjue’s instincts can be trusted as they usually can. Lan Xichen melts underneath him, and rather than wrapping his limbs around him as if to pull him close and start grinding their hips together, instead he tucks them in between them pressed under Nie Mingjue’s bulk. Nie Mingjue obliges him, gathers up all the graceful long lines of him, and bundles him to his chest to hide him from the rest of the world.

Their kisses do eventually slow, or at least become less urgent as Lan Xichen’s panicked need simmers down to something softer. Nie Mingjue doesn’t ask him about it directly but he does drag his aching lips away from the temptation of Lan Xichen’s mouth to nose along his neck instead, his ears full of the sound of Lan Xichen’s ragged panting and the way he’s trying to subtly sniffle.

“I told you I’d take on some of it,” Nie Mingjue tries. “Whatever it is you tried to show A-Yao -”

Nie Mingjue cuts himself off when Lan Xichen slides his hands up from where they’re trapped between their chests to cup his face instead, long fingers holding him so gently, like he’s something precious. Nie Mingjue breathes deeply of the warm, clean scent of his skin and sighs a tired exhale.

“Mn. I believe I may be slightly touch-starved,” Lan Xichen says with remarkable delicacy and Nie Mingjue can’t stop himself from snorting, though he instantly apologizes with a flurry of kisses along Lan Xichen’s shoulder through his jacket. “I have been in extremely close quarters with A-Yao for days and yet..I need you now, like this. I cannot bear the thought of distance.”

“Can’t make up for an entire life in a couple of days. And I mean I don’t know much about the rest of your family but for all that Lan Wangji seems like a good man, I can’t really picture him being a hugger.”

Lan Xichen takes several slow, steady breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Nie Mingjue gives him the space (metaphorically) to consider it. 

“No,” Lan Xichen eventually says, the admission small and delicate between them. “No, he is not.”

Nie Mingjue rewards him for his honesty with a kiss to his collarbone. “You are, though, and both options are understandable. Do you have anyone else in your life?”

“My uncle,” Lan Xichen whispers, pained again. “He and Wangji are remarkably similar…I am more like our father.”

“Yeah? What’s he like?”

Lan Xichen is silent for so long that Nie Mingjue sits up again just enough to look down at him only to find he’s staring glassy-eyed up at the ceiling. “He was very lonely, I think. He must have been.”

Nie Mingjue sighs, leans down to press his forehead against Lan Xichen’s, eyes closed against the sight of him so melancholy. He gives him a few more moments to brood, but then he starts pressing soft, barely-there kisses to Lan Xichen’s lips until he starts to come back to himself enough to return them. He’s tentative at first, distracted, but Nie Mingjue just keeps giving him little sips of his lips until Lan Xichen chases his mouth after each one.

“You don’t have to be like him,” Nie Mingjue tells him between kisses. “You have A-Yao, and me, and Wangji, and everyone else here for that matter. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you know.”

Lan Xichen hums noncommittally and strokes his cheeks with his fingertips again, running them softly up and down until he shifts suddenly and slips his arms around Nie Mingjue’s neck and his legs around his hips to cling to him. 

“So I am beginning to realize,” he admits, soft as a feather.

How is Nie Mingjue not supposed to kiss him for that?

-/-

“Sit down, Guangyao.”

Jin Guangshan sits in his usual ridiculous opulence, enthroned behind his massive desk that sees absolutely no important work. Jin Guangyao hates himself for how quickly he obeys. The visitors’ chairs in Jin Guangshan’s office are as gaudy as everything else, overstuffed leather monstrosities; every time Jin Guangyao finds himself in the unfortunate position of having to sit in one of them he can’t help but wonder just how in the hell he got them in the door. Jin Guangyao perches as close to the edge of the seat as he can get away with, back ramrod straight and his hands neatly settled in his lap - not clenching at each other in an attempt to maintain control of himself. Even that much weakness would be sniffed out and exploited, which he absolutely can’t allow.

“I take it you understand how this place runs,” Jin Guangshan muses after a few beats too many of pregnant silence. “You certainly waltz around pretending that you do.”

“Yes, father,” Jin Guangyao replies politely, tight and cool. His smile feels like fishhooks at the corners of his mouth and he keeps his eyes carefully on the hideously expensive trinkets littering the front edge of the desk between them.

“Yes you understand, or yes you pretend to understand so you can play housewife with the overgrown Nie brat?”

Jin Guangyao is made of ice. He’s plastic, he’s concrete, he’s made of anything that will not show any emotion other than what he allows. He absolutely will not show any reaction to Jin Guangshan’s needling, not even to come to Nie Mingjue’s defense for the dismissive little slight.

“Yes, I understand how this shatterdome runs.”

“For some reason, I’m finding that extremely hard to believe that at the moment. Do you think that no one in this building watches what you do? Do you think that you’re above it all just because Nie Mingjue is willing to play guard dog and shout down anyone who dares try to contradict you?”

“I am unsure what has prompted this,” Jin Guangyao lies smoothly. It’s only partially a lie anyway - he’s done so many things that would anger Jin Guangshan that he genuinely can’t tell yet which infraction has reached his father’s ears and upset him. “Has my work been unsatisfactory?”

“Your existence is unsatisfactory, boy, so of course anything touched by you is immediately sullied!”

Jin Guangyao’s fingers twitch ever so slightly with the desire to curl them into claws and gouge out Jin Guangshan’s bloodshot eyes. He can picture it perfectly, the steps he would take. He can vividly imagine standing up from his chair, climbing onto the desk and kicking all the shitty little baubles and clutter away to kneel on the polished mahogany surface and pin Jin Guangshan in his ridiculous chair with a choking hand around his throat. He imagines his eyes would be soft. Squishy. They’d probably give far too quickly for him to be able to enjoy dragging the process out, but he takes savage pleasure in the imagined sensation of Jin Guangshan thrashing and screaming in agony for any length of time at all.

“This humble one apologizes for the disappointment. Please instruct me.”

Jin Guangshan’s scoff drips with disdain. Jin Guangyao imagines shoving his ruined eyeballs down his throat. “I don’t want your useless apologies. Never forget how easily I could take away everything you have, boy. Everything in this shatterdome exists exactly as I say it does, without me none of this exists! Including you!! Do I have to go back to reminding you of your place?!”

Jin Guangyao shoves away the phantom pains of bruises, broken bones, wounded pride, split lips, constant illness, and debilitating terror he’d worked through anyway in favor of fantasizing about chopping off Jin Guangshan’s tongue and forcefully shoving it down his throat. Or digging a rusty nail into his windpipe, or maybe something long and sharp enough to pin him to his chair by the throat. There’s construction happening further down the coast, it would be laughably easy to get his hands on an old railroad spike, the rustier the better.

Jin Guangshan hauls himself to his feet with a slam of his hands and Jin Guangyao’s entire body tenses, ready to bolt but locked by fear and old habits of obedience that just refuse to die. He stays perfectly still and silent as Jin Guangshan rounds his desk to lean down and box him in with his hands planted on both arms of the chair, and then there’s no avoiding the sight of his furious sneer as he’s ducking down into Jin Guangyao’s line of sight. He wonders how many teeth it’s possible to knock loose with one punch while Jin Guangshan bares his, and the manic rage in his eyes could match any of Nie Mingjue’s worst episodes.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Jin Guangshan breathes; it reeks of alcohol, which is at least something of an explanation if not a particularly comforting one. “Your mother was a two-bit conniving whore and you’re far worse. The world would be better off if you weren’t in it. It would be a public service at this point to take out the trash once and for all, don’t you think?”

“This humble one disagrees,” Jin Guangyao says through his pulse hammering in his ears. Before he can think better of it, before he can panic over the consequences and think himself into knots, he moves too fast to be countered. Jin Guangshan reels back from the impact of Jin Guangyao’s fist into his throat, coughing and choking around the breath that he can’t seem to find. Jin Guangyao shoves his chair back far enough to stand and pat his father on the shoulder a couple times, condescending and cold as he tuts. “That’s a bad cough, father. I’ll have the doctors prescribe you something to treat it, it would be a shame to see you fall ill.”

He leaves without a glance backwards. He doesn’t know how much damage he just did; if Jin Guangshan’s windpipe collapses and he suffocates on the surface of his own desk, then so be it. Jin Guangyao is sure that no one will mourn the loss, and there are plenty of Jin children to inherit the leadership of the shatterdome if Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to claim it. If Jin Guangshan survives, if the doctors manage to get to him in time, then Jin Guangyao’s safety will be anything but guaranteed even with Nie Mingjue protecting him.

He grabs the next person he sees and instructs them to find a doctor who’s free to check on Jin Guangshan, no sense of urgency in his tone, he’s nothing but polite and detached concern. He forces the echoes of Jin Guangshan’s vitriol to quiet, he numbs himself to everything but the sounds of life going on around him as he stalks through the familiar labyrinth of the shatterdome he runs at Nie Mingjue’s side.

When he steps into the research lab, Mo Xuanyu notices him first. Nie Huaisang is bent over his computer as always, Jiang Wanyin beside him and glaring at something on the screen with equal intensity.

“Hey Yao-ge - whoa. Holy shit what happened to you?” Mo Xuanyu breathes. Mo Xuanyu has always been the odd duck of their little fucked up sibling foursome; Jin Guangyao isn’t surprised that the boy’s fanatical interest in the macabre and the trauma of his childhood spent in his mother’s family’s house have combined into an uncanny ability to tell when Jin Guangyao is on the cusp of a murderous breakdown.

“A-Sang. Where’s your stash?”

“What?”

“Your stash, A-Sang,” he repeats again slowly, with so much ice in his tone that everything in the room freezes. Nie Huaisang slowly looks up at him and blinks slowly at whatever he sees on his face.

“Hold on, A-Cheng,” he says quietly and stands to hurry back to the shadowy corner of the lab dedicated to personal lockers. Jin Guangyao follows him, and when Nie Huaisang hands him what he’s looking for with nervous hands he leaves without another word.

There are two options - only two - when Jin Guangyao feels like this. He prides himself on having multiple possible courses of action in response to any situation he can imagine, but when the rage he’d grown up with and the madness he’d helped Nie Mingjue tame (at a high cost to himself and his own sanity) blend and push him to the breaking point, he can either kill someone (as he has in the past) or he can find Nie Mingjue. The option to ask Nie Mingjue to help him is as new as their second chance at a relationship, and Jin Guangyao hasn’t had to seek him out like this very often since. But on the occasions that he has, he’s always chosen it without hesitation.

Because the alternative is to become someone that Nie Mingjue can’t abide, and Jin Guangyao would rather die himself than lose his partner again.

He walks through the shatterdome imagining each step is a fresh chance to crush Jin Guangshan’s skull under his clunky workboots, each heavy thud accompanied by the imagined crunch of bone and squelch of blood. By the time he reaches the living quarters he’s slightly mollified, but by no means in the clear yet.

“There you are! A-Yao you’re supposed to be on light -”

Nie Mingjue’s admonishment cuts off abruptly at the sight of him. Jin Guangyao shuts the door to their room with a controlled, relatively quiet clang, and he watches his partners process the hateful misery of him as they untangle themselves from each other and sit up properly.

“Do not, under any circumstances, let me step out of our quarters again tonight.”

It’s not quite dinner yet, only late afternoon, but Jin Guangyao doesn’t know what he’ll do if he leaves again. He wants to hunt Jin Guangshan down for sport and finish what he’d started. He wants to bribe the doctors into overdosing that monster on their precious supply of painkillers just to get rid of him. He wants to bribe the cooks into poisoning his food. He wants to get his own hands bloody, he wants to sit back and watch everything his father has ever touched burn.

“What do you need, A-Yao?” Lan Xichen asks, low and urgent. He’s kneeling on the bed now, one hand half-raised like he isn’t even aware of it. Jin Guangyao methodically takes off his shoes, his socks, his jacket, and sets down the bottle of lube (a precious commodity around the shatterdome) from Nie Huaisang on the file box he uses as a nightstand.

“I need to do something that isn’t murdering my father.” The alarm on both his partner’s faces, in their own ways, soothes the niggling fear he’d had that they wouldn’t think to take him seriously. “I need both of you to keep me distracted until I’m not at risk of snapping his neck anymore.”

He’d hoped that their first time would be fun. That it would be a celebration of his and Lan Xichen’s successful recovery from their Drift, that he could laugh at Nie Mingjue’s secret reticence and his need to always make sure he’s doing the right thing. He knows that Lan Xichen has never been with anyone, let alone two experienced partners at once. He’d been looking forward to spoiling him rotten and ruining him for anyone else in the world.

But they’re all so broken. There are things that he needs right now that aren’t romantic, or soft, or tender, or any of the things either of his partners deserves. He needs to feel like he’s in his own skin again. He needs years of memories of Jin Guangshan’s violent hands on him erased by the feeling of his partners’ much more pleasurable hands and mouths. They can’t Drift right now, or anytime soon, most likely, if Jin Guangshan really is watching him that closely, but Jin Guangyao knows they can get pretty damn close to that level of intimacy if they want it badly enough.

Lan Xichen has, of course, seen his betrayal of Nie Mingjue’s trust as well as their agreement when he’d helped their partner recover his sanity, and so he asks absolutely no questions. Instead, he lifts that half-raised hand the rest of the way to reach out and pull him closer by the wrist, his fingers tight and grounding against his skin. “Come here, A-Yao. We’ll help you forget for as long as we can, alright?”

It’s what they all want, he supposes as he lays down in a bed that absolutely doesn’t fit the three of them, but it’s just going to have to. All three of them are looking to forget for a while that their lives are far from perfect, barely managing to scrape a rating of ‘good’, and though he’s usually the one helping in whatever way he can it’s good to know that should he need it he can trust that he’ll be taken care of as well.

With two huge saps like Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen for lovers, though, that hasn’t really been in doubt for a single second.

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Pacific Rim AU #Lan Xichen #Nie Mingjue #Jin Guangyao #I swear I'm trying to get them all in bed and boning already but they're just not fuckin' cooperating #Like they all deserve to just fuck it out! #But trauma! #A mess #Anyway Sunday's update will hopefully be an extra for chapters 7/8 instead of a new chapter #It'll be Sangcheng if I can get it finished by then 👍🏼

[howlmasterlist]

Danmei

MO DAO ZU SHI

Nie Huaisan

Nie Mingjue

Lan Xichen

Jaing Cheng

Xiao Xingchen

Xue Yang

Yu Ziyuan

Wen Qing

Jiang Yanli

Jin Zixuan

Wei Wuxian

Wei Changze

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: 拨云见日

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Niè Huáisāng, Sect Leader Yáo, Sect Leader Ōuyáng

Additional Tags: Justice, Anger, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, Restitution, Self-Indulgent, POV Third Person, POV Wei Wuxian

Summary: When Wei Wuxian attends the first cultivation conference since Lan Xichen left seclusion, he doesn't expect a demand he stand trial. Apparently others planned for that contingency.

Notes: This started as a flash fiction exercise I was doing with my class. I know it’s super self-indulgent but that’s what I wanted to write. The title is an idiom. Literally, to dispel the clouds and see the sun, but figuratively to restore justice. 

AO3 link

------------

“You think I should what?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t think he could be hearing that right. He’d come to this discussion conference to lend moral support to his husband, not to become a topic himself.

“Be put on trial, of course,” Sect Leader Yao said, his tone indicating that he felt it was obvious.

“For what?”

Zidian sparked as Jiang Cheng spat the question, surprising Wei Wuxian.

“All his sins, of course! The Bloodbath of Nightless City, for instance… He should face justice!”

He wanted to say this didn’t surprise him, that the inept and ridiculous politics of the cultivation world and their idiotic demands were rote to him, but this made him want to both laugh and cry.

“I died, Sect Leader Yao. Is that not punishment enough?”

“And yet you’re here now, permitted to sit amongst the gentry you terrorized as Yiling Laozu!”

Wei Wuxian could feel the tension in his husband beside him, knew Lan Zhan was absolutely livid and that this could come to blood, and it wouldn’t likely be his. The only option was to try to diffuse the situation using a logic that would likely fly far over the heads of most of these morons.

“Yes, I somehow terrorized them while confining myself to the Burial Mounds and protecting a bunch of innocent civilians who were unjustly executed. As I recall, one of your disciples shot me with an arrow while I was speaking my case, and another killed Jiang Yanli with a sloppy blow meant for me. And now, having killed me and those I was protecting once without any trial, you expect to do so again?”

Predictably, Sect Leader Yao turned red with rage, sputtering at the accusation. But Wei Wuxian kept speaking.

“And then, when you came to kill me again while I was revealing the actual culprit who led you by the nose for over a decade, I instead saved your life. But now you speak of justice, as though you have any understanding of it whatsoever.”

He was angry now, on behalf of those who hadn’t had to die, those who died in part because of his choices, but also because of the hubris of the cultivation world. He could feel tendrils of resentful energy responding to that rage, coiling around his fingers.

“Perhaps you would like to see the Yiling Laozu again? It can be arranged.”

He let the resentful energy teem, let it turn his eyes red, and was vaguely satisfied when Sect Leader Yao fell over himself in terror, babbling about being threatened. He hoped he’d pissed himself.

Wei Wuxian let the energy dissipate.

“But I would much prefer to be Hanguang-Jun’s husband,” he said, leaning into his side. “And be left alone.”

Several minor sect leaders began muttering about justice, but the crackle of Zidian on Jiang Cheng’s wrist left silence in its wake.

“Yunmeng Jiang will not support a trial, or any movement against Sect Heir Wei Wuxian,” he intoned, glaring around him as though daring anyone to challenge him.

Wei Wuxian nearly choked. He wasn’t even in the Jiang sect, so how could he be Sect Heir.

“Lanling Jin will also not support any trial or movement against my dajiu,” Jin Ling interjected, cutting off any potential exploration, his voice commanding and angry.

Now he did choke, but on a different emotion. He’d never expected Jin Ling to refer to him as dajiu, even in private, but here he was announcing it to the entire cultivation world, laying claim to him as family.

“Qinghe Nie will not support any trial or movement against Wei Wuxian, as well,” Nie Huaisan added, his fluttering fan hiding his expression, but his eyes shrewd.

“Gusu Lan will also not support any trial or movement against the husband of the Chief Cultivator,” Lan Xichen said.

It was the first discussion conference he had attended since he had ended his seclusion, and the pronouncement wasn’t unexpected at this point, but then he stood.

“In fact, I believe the cultivation world owes Wei Wuxian compensation for the ills he has suffered at its hands, including spreading vicious rumors about his character following his heroism during the Sunshot Campaign and his righteousness in protecting the innocents afterward.”

Wei Wuxian gaped—how had the conversation turned from likely executing him to compensating him?

“Wei Wuxian is due everything a sect heir should have. Sixteen years’ worth, actually. Yunmeng Jiang agrees with paying restitution.”

He wondered if this had somehow been planned, but who would have known Sect Leader Yao would be an idiot.

Oh, right. Everyone.

Wei Wuxian was reeling and was grateful for the grounding arm Lan Zhan snaked around his waist.

“Lanling Jin spread many of the vicious rumors in its quest for the Stygian Tiger Amulet, and for the execution of dajiu’s refugee family,” Jin Ling announced. “We will provide blood money as restitution for that wrong.”

Muttering filled the room, sect leaders reacting to two main sects paying the Yiling Laozu restitution.

“Qinghe Nie participated in the Siege of Burial Mounds,” Nie Huaisang said. “We were at Nightless City and went along with the injustices perpetrated against civilians, failing to investigate. Qinghe Nie will also pay restitution.”

The murmurs seemed like a roar, and Wei Wuxian felt lost.

“Gusu Lan owes Wei Wuxian a debt,” Lan Xichen added. “Only Hanguang-Jun spoke up against the slander. He was robbed of sixteen years with his husband and son. We will pay restitution as well.”

Lan Xichen stood, silencing sect leaders that were openly questioning who Wei Wuxian’s son could be.

“All sects owe Wei Wuxian a debt, particularly those who helped spread malicious rumors,” he said, looking at Sect Leader Yao. “Perhaps your suggestion of a trial is sound, Sect Leader Yao—but not for Wei Wuxian. For us, if you insist on a trial and on justice.”

Sect Leader Yao shook his head, for once silent.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Sect Leader Ouyang said quickly. “Baling Ouyang will not support a trial or any movement against Wei Wuxian.”

Other minor sect leaders, even those who had previously been in support of Sect Leader Yao’s suggestion, hastily agreed.

“So agreed, by majority.”

Lan Zhan stood, pulling Wei Wuxian up with him.

“Perhaps we should break for today and use the time to reflect.”

His voice was icy, his tone more clipped than usual, and he didn’t bother to wait for agreement from the sect leaders, simply swept from the banquet hall, pulling Wei Wuxian with him.

Wei Wuxian was glad for the reprieve, glad to be whisked away, glad to be able to reflect in a more private setting.

He had some people to confront once he was capable of speech again.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #wei ying #wei wuxian #sect leader yao #lan zhan #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie huaisang #jin ling #jin rulan #sect leader ouyang #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #untamed fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #cql fic #my fanfiction #wangxian

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01

(Masterpost) (Next Episode)

Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it! 

Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll! 

Prologue: The Battle of Mordor

The Demise of our Protagonist

Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for. 

This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day. 

Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing. 

Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler

Anyway...cliff time

Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing. 

To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides. 

This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.

In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.

This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me? 

(Much, much more after the cut!)

The Amulet Situation

This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.

Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt. 

Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.

This is thousands of cultivators having a battle.  What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?

 Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.

Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:

*viewership nods indulgently*

This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.  

He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.

The Present Day

Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea

Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu. 

How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”

Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.  

...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*

Gank Your Soul

Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment. 

The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai​)

The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

The Demise of our Trill Host

Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in. 

Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.

He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.

Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People

Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this

to this. 

He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.

And he is ALL in on being crazy. 

OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has. 

Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:

This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.

My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.

Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life

Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams. 

Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).

Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit

Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan

Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”

Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting

Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse. 

Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure.  Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!

This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them! 

This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners. 

Narrator: Her son is dead.

Meanwhile, 

Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.

Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time

Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.

 All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.

Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.

Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.

Servant: it’s a ghost! 

WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit

Babies: It’s a spirit

LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost

Our Protagonist gets the FOH

Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around. 

Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning. 

Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses. 

On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up. 

Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!

Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed spoilers #the untamed gifs #the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #tw: blood #tw: suicide #chen qing ling #cql #c-drama #bl drama #canary3d-original #the untamed memes #my gifs

[ticklygiggles]

A little warmer | Nie Brothers

This is NOT a ship fic.

A/N: This one took me longer than I expected, but it’s finally here! I hope you enjoy it, Anon! Thank you for requesting some fluff for these angsty brothers!

Summary: Nie MingJue is a little drunk, Nie HuaiSang is a little silly and they actually enjoy each other’s company very much.

Words: 2006

There were times, (very rare times), when Nie MingJue allowed Nie HuaiSang to share a drink with him after being the feared Sect Leader and the strict older brother that was after Nie HuaiSang’s throat.  

Those times were Nie HuaiSang’s favorite. He felt like he could forget about many things, like the fact that he was extremely awful at using his saber, the fact that his cultivation was far behind and weaker than a ten-year-old, and that, probably, his mere existence was an inconvenience to Nie MingJue - yes, those things didn’t matter when he was just pouring liquor into his big brother’s cup over and over as he heard him talking, his tongue lazy, dragging his word as he recalled the events of the day and vented to Nie HuaiSang.

“How is cultivation going?” Nie MingJue asked after he talked about how angry he felt every time he saw Jin GuangYao’s face. “I haven’t seen you practice when I’m around.”

Nie HuaiSang winced, almost dropping the liquor bottle when he placed it back on top of the table. 

“W-Well… D-Da-ge, you’ll see…” He started, fidgeting with the fan on his lap. “I’ve been kind of  b-busy lately…”

Nie MingJue laughed, he actually laughed as he looked at Nie HuaiSang with slightly droopy eyes. “Busy with what, you rascal? You dare to lie to your Da-ge?”

Nie HuaiSang shook his head rapidly. The fear within his chest was just like a little flame, instead of the fire that usually grew whenever he talked with Nie MingJue. 

“I’m not! It’s just… I’ve been doing this and that…" 

Nie MingJue chuckled, shaking his head a little as he took a sip from his cup. "Yes, of course, this and that both sound extremely important,” Nie MingJue mocked, suddenly reaching for Nie HuaiSang’s arm. 

Nie HuaiSang shrieked when he felt Nie MingJue’s hand grasping his arm, right above the elbow, and pulling at him. 

“Da-ge! Ack!” A strong arm wrapped around his neck and if he wanted to say something else, he couldn’t as Nie MingJue pressed Nie HuaiSang’s face against his broad chest. “Da-ge!” Nie HuaiSang squeaked, trying to break free and whining loudly when he felt Nie MingJue’s knuckles rubbing roughly against his scalp. “It hurts! Da-ge, please!”

“You little shit,” Nie MingJue said and Nie HuaiSang could hear a smile in his voice. “I don’t know how to make you have common sense anymore!”

Nie HuaiSang cried when he felt those knuckles digging more into his scalp. “Da-ge! I’m sorry! Aaah!" 

Nie MingJue’s chest only grumbled with another of his chuckles and Nie HuaiSang whined again. He grabbed his brother’s sides and tried to push him away, but it was stupid of him to think that he could actually move Nie MingJue away with just a few pushes, but heavens! His scalp was starting to burn and he cried again. 

And then, sudden thought assaulted his mind. Some kind of memory and a risky strategy, but his brain was starting to hurt, so he simply placed his hands right under Nie MingJue’s rib cage, giving a few squeezes.

Nie MingJue tensed and growled, trying to fight back the bubbly laughter wanting to pour out of his mouth. "Stop that!” He said and pressed Nie HuaiSang harder against his chest.

“Let me go first!” Nie HuaiSang cried, his slender fingers vibrating against that tender muscle. He felt Nie MingJue’s arms trembling a little and the hand torturing his head had come to a stop. 

“HuaiSang!” Nie MingJue said with a high pitched voice. “I s-swear- ahahaha!” Finally, a bark of loud laughter poured out of Nie MingJue’s mouth and he let go of Nie HuaiSang. 

As soon as he was freed, Nie HuaiSang also let go of his brother’s rib cage and he staggered back, soothing his hand over his sore head and seeing how Nie MingJue wrapped an arm around his middle, right where Nie HuaiSang’s hands were just a moment ago. 

Nie HuaiSang was a bit taken aback to see that big smile on his brother’s face - it was not teasy, but almost childish and highly playful and Nie HuaiSang dared to think that Nie MingJue was… having fun? 

“Do you think you can win against me, Nie HuaiSang?” Nie HuaiSang widened his eyes when Nie MingJue seemed to recover and he shook his head. “I see, this is how you want to play, huh?" 

"No! No, Da-ge!” Nie HuaiSang begged, letting out a squeak when Nie MingJue launched at him, pushing him against the wooden floor. “No! Da-ge, listen! Lihihahahaha! Plehehehease no!”

Nie HuaiSang would never understand how his big brother’s fingers were so gentle and soft when tickling, instead of rough like… The rest of him. It drove Nie HuaiSang crazy. 

“Please no what, HuaiSang?” He asked, but Nie HuaiSang could only giggle like a kid as Nie MingJue squeezed up and down his sides, latching on to a certain spot right above Nie HuaiSang’s waist that made him shriek and laugh a little harder. 

“Nohohohot tihihihickling!” He pleaded, kicking his legs and trying to squirm away. 

“What? I thought you liked being tickled?” Nie MingJue teased and something sparked inside Nie HuaiSang’s head: a tiny version of himself asking a tiny version of Nie MingJue to tickle him?! 

His cheeks turned bright red and he shook his head desperately.

“No! Thahahat’s not it!”

“What do you mean? I do remember you annoying me all around, asking me to tickle you!” Nie MingJue said, moving his hands up to tickle along Nie HuaiSang’s ribs. 

Nie HuaiSang arched his back off the floor and he tried to roll on his stomach to crawl away from his mean brother. He thought he never felt his ears blushing before, but they definitely were blushing right now as the memories of a very far away childhood rushed back at him 

So, as he laughed loudly when Nie MingJue clawed against the sides of his ribs, he saw himself bugging Nie MingJue over and over, trying to coax him to tickle him when his big brother was not busy practicing his cultivation.

That was a lifetime ago and he had definitely forgotten about it growing up, but now that Nie MingJue’s drunken mind had brought it back, Nie HuaiSang didn’t know where to hide his face! 

“Ah, maybe this is a nice punishment for you?” Nie MingJue teased, moving his hands from Nie HuaiSang’s ribs down to his hips. “But I guess, if you enjoy it, it is not a punishment, hmmm?”

“Ohohoho m-my gohohohoodness!” Nie HuaiSang cried, bucking his hips and doing a ridiculous dance to try and dislodge Nie MingJue’s fingers from his hip bones. “Dahahaha-ge! Thahahat w-wahahas in th-the pahahahast!" 

"Don’t be silly, I’m sure you still love it,” he cooed and Nie HuaiSang could only shake his head as he squirmed desperately. 

This whole situation was probably his fault, but he never thought Nie MingJue would actually attack him back! Even reminding him about his very embarrassing past as he destroyed every sensitive spot his drunk head could remember. 

“Da-gehehehe! I’m s-sohohohorry!” Nie HuaiSang squealed, trying to push Nie MingJue’s hands away from his body. “Dohohon’t do thihihis!" 

"Where was that spot again, HuaiSang?” Nie MingJue asked and Nie HuaiSang shook his head. “Ah, right here, right?”

“No! NOHOHO!” Nie HuaiSang shrieked as soon as Nie MingJue’s fingers quickly moved down toward his stomach. Nie MingJue formed a claw with his fingers and vibrated them against the very center of Nie HuaiSang’s tummy.

Nie HuaiSang threw his head back, loud barks of hysterical laughter blooming out from within his very core. Both his hands moved to wrap around Nie MingJue’s wrist, but he couldn’t push his brother’s single hand with two of his own: all his laughter making him feel weaker.

“Oh, so this is still the spot!” Nie MingJue said, trying to find an opening through Nie HuaiSang’s clothes to get his bare tummy. “You really liked this spot when you were a child. Shamelessly opening your clothes and saying ‘Da-ge, Da-ge, tickle my tummy, please?’”

Oh Heavens, stop saying that! It was what Nie HuaiSang wanted to yell, but Nie MingJue was actually able to sneak his hand under Nie HuaiSang’s clothes and the contact of skin to skin made Nie HuaiSang shriek and howl hysterically. 

He shook his head and kicked his legs, even trying to use them as a support to flip himself over, but he was just too weak and Nie MingJue had so much practice reducing him into a laughing mess, there was no way out!

Nie MingJue chuckled and he teased Nie HuaiSang again, but the younger cultivator could barely hear anything besides himself, especially when Nie MingJue’s fingers found that particular super sensitive spot right around his belly button. 

“DAHAHA-GE! D-Dahaha-ge, stahahaha!” He could feel his face burning, blushing at his big brother’s antics, and he knew that if he wanted to save some face and prevent himself from doing that funny sound with his nose when he laughed so much, he had to take action.

Nie HuaiSang, blindly and quite uncoordinated, shot his hands up, luckily finding a perfect fit right against Nie MingJue’s armpits. His fingertips nestling right against the center of his armpits as they weakly started to wiggle.

Nie MingJue was insanely ticklish there, (Nie HuaiSang didn’t know how it was that he knew that information), so the weak tickling was enough to make him laugh hard as he glued his arms to his sides. Nie HuaiSang was a mess, but he also was fast to recover so, as soon as he felt Nie MingJue’s fingers away from his tingling body, he launched at his brother, successfully pushing him against the wooden floor with a soft thud.

His weak wiggling, became fast digging and soon enough, Nie MingJue was arching his back and shrieking with laughter.

“IHIHIHI’LL kihihihill you!” He laughed out, unable to use his hands as he pressed them against his chest in a futile attempt to stop Nie HuaiSang’s fingers. 

“I know, Da-ge! So I can’t stop!” Nie HuaiSang shrieked back, feeling a bit of fear bubbling in his chest for actually overpowering his brother with something as low as tickling. 

It didn’t take long before Nie MingJue turned the tables again, but Nie HuaiSang saw his openings and attacked back.

They rolled around for a few more minutes trying to attack the most sensitive spot in the other and get the upper hand in their little wrestling until Nie HuaiSang called for a trust and they both collapsed on the floor, giggling and chuckling and trying to catch their breath; their mouths still stretched in a wide smile.

Nie HuaiSang felt somehow warm inside, he was not sure what had just happened, but he was not upset or sad about it, he was… happy.

They both sat up and Nie HuaiSang quickly poured another drink to his still slightly drunk big brother, his hands shaking a little after all the excitement. 

“You, stupid little brother,” Nie MingJue chuckled and he suddenly grabbed Nie HuaiSang’s cheeks.

Nie HuaiSang squeaked, almost dropping the bottle. “Ah, Da-ge! I’m sorry, I-”

He was not expecting Nie MingJue to press his forehead against his, a warm and tender smile on his lips. “Da-Da-ge?”

“What will you do when your big brother is not around, hm?” Nie MingJue asked with a gentle voice and Nie HuaiSang relaxed, his voice just as gentle when he talked again.

"Probably die?”

Nie MingJue laughed, closing his eyes and bumping his forehead playfully. “You gotta be smart, HuaiSang, and strong.”

“I know Da-ge. I’m trying.”

"Yeah. I know too,” Nie MingJue said and he gently patted Nie HuaiSang’s cheeks before he let go of him to drink his third bottle.

Nie HuaiSang gently touched his forehead and he sighed. These moments with his brother were definitely his favorite. When Nie MingJue was a little clouded with liquor and his tongue a little loose and his heart a little warmer. 

#Mo Dao Zu Shi #MDZS #Nie MingJue #Nie HuaiSang #Nie Brothers #mia's things #mia's fics #ticklish!Nie HuaiSang #ticklish!Nie MingJue

[nachtfaust]

Opening Theme: Song of a Thousand Nights by CIVILIAN Ending Theme: Seasonal Road by Aimer

Cast: Wei Wuxian (Wei Wusien) - Kimura Ryohei Jiang Cheng (Jan Chong) - Midorikawa Hikaru Jiang Yanli (Jan Yenri) - Hayami Saori Lan Wangji (Ran Wangyi) - Tachibana Shinnosuke Lan Xichen (Ran Shichen) - Morikawa Toshiyuki Lan Sizhui (Ran Sujui) - Tsuchiya Shinba Lan Jingyi (Ran Jinyi) - Saito Soma Jin Ling (Jin Rin) - Yuki Kaji Jin Zixuan (Jin Zushuen) - Akabane Kenji Huaisang (Nie Huaisan) - Hanae Natsuki Wen Ning (Wen Nin) - Nobunaga Shimazaki Wen Qing (Wen Chin) - Ayako Kawasumi Wen Chao (Wen Chao) - Yoshino Hiroyuki Wang Lingjiao (Wan Rinjao)  - Asumi Kana Jiang Fengmian (Jan Fonmien) - Hamada Kenji Yu Ziyuan (Yu Zuyuen) - Honda Takako Luo Qingyang (Luo Chinyan) - LYNN Jin Guangshan (Jin Guanshan) - Hayami Sho Wen Ruohan (Wen Ruohan) - Miyake Kenta Lan Qiren (Ran Chiren) - Sakamaki Mitsuhiro Wen Zhuliu (Wen Jiuriu) - Keiko Sakai Nie Mingjue (Nie Minjue) - Hiroshi Shirokuma Su She (Su Shou) - Masafumi Kobatake

#AIMER!!!!!!!! #madou soshi #mo dao zu shi

[vassar177]

Hi! Here I am to bother you again! I saw the prompt list you reblogged and wanted to know if you can write the number 30 for MingCheng? Don't feel forced to do it and write whenever you want! Thank you for answering my last ask, anyway, it was so much more than I hoped for so thank you! Have a wonderful day and stay safe!

AHHH it’s never a bother! Trust me, I enjoy anything I get! Thank you for sending this prompt in, it was fun to write.

Mingcheng - Incomparable 

Jiang Cheng truly wanted to believe that he’d escaped unscathed, pride intact; that he was able to achieve the impossible.

Unfortunately, life has once again decided to prove him wrong and he finds himself in the hands of one, Nie Huaisang.  

Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to admit it, but he was lucky he even managed to evade his fate for this long. Nie Mingjue was kind enough to rescue him from Nie Huaisang’s last assault, and the natural duties of being a sect leader generally kept him occupied and free from outer-sect meddling. 

Nie Huaisang is a sneaky bastard though. 

Jiang Cheng had let himself become complacent, he became too comfortable; time spent far away from Nie Huisang makes one rusty (and missing Nie Mingjue may have also contributed to his folly). 

Due to his short-sightedness, when he received an invitation to visit Qinghe within the upcoming weeks, he readily agreed. 

Generally, invitations were written under the guise of discussing sect matters. Jiang Cheng generally took them as I’m bored and want to spar. Come visit.

This one, however, stated simply that his presence was desired. (He really should have known). 

Regardless, Jiang Cheng jumped at the opportunity to escape the ever-increasing mound of paperwork and made plans at once.

Who would have known that Nie Huaisang was so good at forgery?

+++

He had arrived at a suspiciously quiet Qinghe, greeted by some junior disciples who seemed surprised at his appearance. Jiang Cheng knew something was wrong. It didn’t take long to find out why. 

Nie Mingjue was gone, out on a training exercise. Nie Huaisang was not.

He had found him promptly, had the gall to act surprised to see him, and then set about trying to get him to sit for a modeling session as if Jiang Cheng hasn’t been refusing this exact thing since their school days.  

Jiang Cheng could cry; all he wanted was to spar and shoot the shit with Nie Mingjue (maybe steal a few glances here and there), ultimately leading to a nice evening spent with wine in good company. 

Didn’t he deserve a good time? He’s spent that last three months doing nothing but work. Build, night hunt, diplomacy, and paperwork. Build, night hunt, Sect Leader Yao, and more paperwork. 

Damn it! Jiang Cheng just wants to silently ogle his crush and bask in any and all attention he’s given! 

What he doesn’t want is to deal with his crush’s determined younger brother (Jiang Cheng doesn’t acknowledge the fact that said brother is a year older than he), who also happens to be a former classmate, as he tries to coerce him into modeling. Again!

But Jiang Cheng is a weak, weak man. 

He’s ashamed that it only took Nie Huaisang and two hours to hunt him down, and he’d be impressed at his stamina if not for the fact that the bastard is putting on the fourth layer of robes!

Jiang Cheng really wants to cry.

“I swear to the Gods if you ruin the makeup I just applied, I’m telling Da-ge about the time you got lost in the dorms and had to cross-dress to escape Teacher Lan,” Nie Huaisang says, tightening the sash that will keep the whole ensemble together. 

Jiang Cheng sniffles, “A demon, you’re a demon.”

“I’m sure Da-ge would agree with that but listen, it’ll only be a few hours! And then I won’t bother you again,” that’s bullshit, “I even had these robes specially made for you!”

He’ll give him that. The robes are beautifully made; deep shades of purple, trimmed and embroidered with vibrant gold thread. Aside from the fact that they’re heavy as shit, they’re surprisingly comfortable. 

Nie Huaisang tugs on his sleeve, “Lean down, I need to fix your hair.”

Since Jiang Cheng has practically given up all hope at this point, he leans to Nie Huaisang’s height and tilts his head down. He can feel his crown being replaced with something much lighter, and a ribbon much longer. There’s also a slight tingling noise, but he can’t place where it’s coming from. 

He lifts his head when he feels Nie Huaisang remove his hands and watches as he takes a few steps back, obviously assessing his work. 

“Jiang-xiong, take your boots off. They’re ruining the vision,” Nie Huaisang demands, tapping his fan against his nose. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know where the fan came from but he complies. “There should be a pair of slippers in the corner. Sit by the doors and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nie Huaisang really is like a different person when it comes to his art he thinks as he watches the man scuttle away.

Jiang Cheng trudges over to where he knows the slippers to be and takes a peek at his appearance in the mirror. He really doesn’t understand why Nie Huaisang was so persistent in getting him to model, there are plenty more attractive people out there. But he’s learned not to question his artistic taste at this point.

He was right, though. The robes are extravagant, with all of the layers combined, the final outer robe falling slightly off of his shoulders. There’s a giant fucking gold bow wrapped around his waist, which he hadn’t noticed before and, are those? Yeah. They are. There are bells hanging off the ends of both the bow and the ribbon in his hair. 

He shakes his head a bit and the bells chime a bit. He does it again a bit rougher. More tingling. And again-

“Are you a cat?”

Jiang Cheng does not jump. He definitely does not. He glares at Nie Huaisang, ignoring the question altogether, “Why the bells?”

“Aesthetic,” Nie Huaisang replies as if he’s Teacher Lan responding to one of Wei Wuxian’s outlandish questions, long-suffering as if Jiang Cheng is the one making unreasonable demands. 

He’s about to respond when Nie Huisang practically floats over and begins pushing him towards a pile of cushions laid in front of a pair of sliding doors. “I didn’t even put on the shoes yet,” he mumbles, which are the darkest shade of purple yet, and also have little bells on the tips.

As he’s arranging himself on the mound of pillows, he sneaks a peek at Nie Huaisang who is setting up his art supplies. There’s...quite a bit, Jiang Cheng notes. It’s nice that he takes some things seriously. 

“Jiang-xiong, I need you to relax. You’re going to get cramped like that.”

Jiang Cheng blinks. He hadn’t even noticed he was tense, but he moves into a more comfortable position and tries to relax. 

“That’s perfect!” Nie Huaisang praises, “Just stay like that, and I’ll tell you when you can move.”

Jiang Cheng loosens even further at the praise. If all he has to do is sit here, maybe this won’t be too bad. 

+++

He was wrong. 

They’ve been at this for three hours and he’s only been allowed to move once. Nie Huaisang is a demon, a devil, a horribly-

“Okay! We’re done for now!”

-wonderful human being that Jiang Cheng has absolutely no intention of killing at this very moment.

As he sets the several sheets of paper he has to dry, Nie Huaisang calls over his shoulder, “I’m going to let these dry. You can take a walk or something, I’m sure you’re feeling a bit stiff.”

Stiff is an understatement. 

Jiang Cheng lost all feeling in his legs an hour ago, which is proving to be a problem as he tries to stand. His legs are tingling so bad that his knees immediately buckle underneath him. He feels like an uncoordinated puppy for all his limbs are working right now.

Jiang Cheng crawls his way to the walkway outside, praying to the gods that no one catches him, and lets his legs hang off the edge, hoping it’ll bring some feeling back to the rebellious appendages.

He swings them back and forth, wiggles his toes within the pointed slippers, bats at his legs a few times. When the pins and needles finally die down a bit, he jumps off the deck.

Nie Huaisang’s art studio is situated within a rather diverse garden. Well, diverse for Qinghe. 

There’s a variety of trees, flowers, and bushes, and there’s a small pond towards the center. Qinghe’s masonry is on display as well, with several stone benches and statues littering the grounds.

Jiang Cheng spots a few canaries hopping about the branches here and there. He looks at them suspiciously for a moment. He knows Nie Huaisang trains them for something but he isn’t sure what. Yet. He makes his way towards the center where the pond is (swears he can feel the birds watching him).

The pond is nothing compared to the sprawling lakes of Yunmeng, but it is well kept and reminds him of home just the smallest amount. Not all ponds are created equal, but for the Unclean Realm, this one is Jiang Cheng’s favorite. 

As the pond becomes more visible, he takes note of its appearance. It’s become a habit; every time he visits, he notes the changes that have been made to the small pool of water. It seems like there’s more vegetation than last time, and a few of Qinghe’s native flowers have been added for color. 

Jiang Cheng wonders if Nie Huaisang is the one that keeps up with it, or if someone else has taken to the aquatic feature. As he sits down on one of the benches surrounding the pond, he can’t help but dread going back in to sit for another unforeseeable amount of time. 

He may have to send a letter to his first hand stating his early arrival… but he doesn’t really want to do that to his people. 

He had planned to stay for a few days, but Nie Huaisang refused to tell him when Nie Mingjue would be back. The thought of having to spend his vacation visit with Nie Huaisang, and him alone, is not one that’s particularly appealing. 

Jiang Cheng knows that his disciples are much more comfortable when he is absent from Lotus Pier. It’s not as if he can blame them either, but it is a bit disheartening that his own people would rather him gone. 

Thinking about it, if he sends a letter out tonight, it should arrive at Lotus Pier by the morning. He could leave tomorrow night, or the morning after, and arrive at Lotus Pier only a day ahead of schedule... 

Regardless, if he were to leave early, he would make sure to send his letter with ample time for his disciples to mentally prepare for his arrival. 

Satisfied with that decision, Jiang Cheng nods to himself. He hears the bells on his ribbon chime with the movement. He had taken his Jiang sect bell off to put on the modeling robes, and he can’t help but compare the sound. 

All Jiang bells are imbued with spiritual energy. And Jiang Cheng has started the habit of placing charms on even the mundane chimes found in Lotus Piers’ markets- as long as they’re welcome that is. Most of those bells have a deep warm tone to them. They sound almost like a gong when they ring, meant to cut through the haze of the wearer’s clouded mind. 

These bells, on the other hand, are qi free. They sound light and airy and a little bit tinny. Jiang Cheng thinks that the delicate sounds seem almost unnatural coming from him, but they’re nice for a change. 

The bells on his shoes are the same, he notes as he taps them together for a bit, listening to the chimes.

“Are you a cat?”

Jiang Cheng does not startle off the bench, clutching at his heart, ready to yell whoever decided to startle him into the earth because really, twice in a day is too much for his heart. Unfortunately, the person he comes face to face with is probably the only one that could out-belt him in a screaming match. 

He’s also the only person Jiang Cheng would have preferred not to see dressed up like an over-extravagant purple potato. His face pales, which must look absolutely deathly because Nie Huaiasang already put on a layer of powder to lighten his tone. “N-Nie Mingjue. You startled me.”

Said person is looking at him like he’s grown two heads. Jiang Cheng stays silent, not really sure what he should say.

Nie Mingjue stays silent, but moves forward, making his way towards Jiang Cheng. The only reason he doesn’t bolt out of there to hide for the rest of his life is because there’s a literal bench blocking his path, and if he tried it in his panicked state, he’d end up on his face. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” is what Nie Mingjue says when he’s within touching range. He’s still looking at Jiang Cheng weirdly, eyes moving up and down, side-to-side as if he’s trying to quickly memorize what he sees before him. 

Jiang Cheng feels his face gain some color back at the thought of Nie Mingjue trying to sear him into his memory. “Nie Huaisang has gotten very good at forgery,” he says, volume just above that of a whisper. 

“I’m assuming this is for a painting then,” Nie Mingjue asks, reaching behind him to hold onto one of the ribbon ends. There’s very little need to question when all of the evidence is staring him in the face, Jiang Cheng thinks. 

“Your brother… he’s gotten very good at coercion it seems,” Jiang Cheng states, he’s not quite sure what’s going on, but it feels different, like the air between them is more charged than usual. And Nie Mingjue isn’t helping with the way he keeps looking at him. “I don’t really know why it had to be me though,” he adds, “it could have been any-”

“It’s because you’re gorgeous.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind, his eyes, focussed on Nie Mingjue, even his breathing has stopped. It’s as if everything has come to a halt. “What?” He manages to choke out. 

There’s a slight tug on the ribbon, and he feels his hair begin to tumble out of his perfunctory bun, cascading waves over his shoulder. Nie Mingjue’s hand runs through the strands once, twice, before coming up to cup his cheek.

“I said, it’s because you’re gorgeous. Like this, almost incomparably so.” 

Jiang Cheng searches his face, trying to look for some hint of deception. Or maybe some sign that this is all merely a dream, that he fell asleep on Nie Huaisang’s fancy pillows and Nie Mingjue isn’t standing in front of him. 

Or better yet, he’s still at home. Jiang Cheng closes his eyes tight, when he opens them, everything will be normal. He’ll wake up to familiar walls and all of this will have been a fever dream.

But when he opens them, he’s once again greeted with umber colored eyes. And Nie Mingjue’s other hand has come up to grasp his neck, rubbing gently at his jaw. 

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth a few times to say something, to say anything, but words are failing him, and all he really wants to do is lean in further to Nie Mingjue’s touch. 

Jiang Cheng’s own hands come up to cover Nie Mingjue’s arms, hanging almost limply, and Nie Mingjue begins to move in. 

Jiang Cheng’s breath catches once more, holding, anticipating. 

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Mingjue whispers into the space between them, “may I…”

He is just about to nod when-

“JIANG-XIONG I NEED- Oh damn.”

There’s a lot that Jiang Cheng feels at the moment. There’s disappointment, anger, frustration for sure. But mortification is quickly setting in, overriding every other emotion, and flushing him red. 

He slowly removes Nie Mingjue’s hands from his face, rounds the bench, jumps up onto the walkway, and makes his way back into the studio; avoiding eye-contact from both sides the entire time. 

He knows he’s being watched, even without saying anything, the gaze on his back lays heavy. He’ll have to apologize later, but right now, he sits down on the pillows in the studio and gets back into position. 

Jiang Cheng can hear the gravel under Nie Mingjue’s boots as he walks away. Nie Huaisang is silent when he re-enters the room. 

They stay like that for a long while; Nie Huaisang carefully paints and Jiang Cheng contemplates every decision he’s ever made to land him in this position. 

The good news is, the mortification of being caught (doing what? They didn’t even get to kiss, Jiang Cheng thinks helplessly) is slowly fading away, but he still doesn’t want to have the conversation he knows is coming. 

He can feel it in the way Nie Huaisang’s gaze keeps lingering, different from the artist’s stare he used before. This stare is more reminiscent of the way Wei Wuxian looks when he’s heard some good gossip and wants to share. 

Jiang Cheng begins the process of mentally preparing himself for the upcoming onslaught. 

“Jiang-xiong…” Nie Huaisang begins timidly, like Jiang Cheng doesn’t already know he’s fishing.

“Just say it and get it over with,” Jiang Cheng states tersely. Far from willing to entertain this for much longer. He glances at Nie Huaisang who’s looking back at him in incredulity, making him bring in his defenses even tighter. “What?”

“No, I just- you’re not gonna say “It’s not what it looks like!” I swear that’s what I thought was coming…”

Jiang Cheng laughs, actually, straight-up laughs. The stress must be getting to him and he can see Nie Huaisang’s confusion continue to grow. “What am I supposed to say,” he begins, almost breathless, “No, I wasn’t two seconds away from kissing your brother-” Nie Huaisang scrunches his nose- “Please, not even I’m that dense.”

“Well pardon me for thinking that with the dramatic way you left the garden,” Nie Huaisang grumbles with a full-blown pout; paintbrushes lay forgotten and arms crossed. 

“I was embarrassed! How would you feel if I walked in on you kissing Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng defends.

“First of all, Lang Wangji would kill me,” he states and Jiang Cheng concedes to that. “Second, I’d ask if you wanted to join in-”

Jiang Cheng flushes red and throws the closest projectile he can reach at Nie Huaisangs head. 

“Hey! That slipper was expensive,” Nie Huaisang says, barely dodging the incoming shoe.

“Shameless!”

“Says the person who was about to suck face-” Jiang Cheng chokes “-with my brother.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Nie Huaisang’s eyes brighten as if he’s just been granted a week off of training.

“What happened to not saying cliches?” 

Jiang Cheng shuts his mouth, he refuses to participate in this conversation any longer; his face has already taken too much damage tonight. He turns away from Nie Huaisang, positioning himself so that only his profile is visible. 

It lasts for a short while, as Nie Huaisang is given a new angle to work with and his inner artist takes over. But a short while is still a short while and eventually, it’s broken. 

“So what are you going to do next? Obviously, you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Obviously, you doubt my ability to avoid things I don’t want to talk about,” Jiang Cheng answers honestly. He’s not proud of his proficiency at emotional repression, but it does come in handy sometimes. He sees Nie Huaisang stop painting in his peripheral vision, staring at him, which is only slightly ominous. “But I’m not going to do that.” 

Nie Huaisang hums in acknowledgment and goes back to painting.

“I. Like him?” He tests the words out, trying his best to convey what he wants without completely making things awkward. He nods to himself, finding the words true, and continues, “I like him. And would like to try this out...whatever this is,” he turns his head to look at Nie Huaisang. “If he’ll have me.”

Nie Huaisang finishes the sketch he was working on and sets the brush to the side. He looks up, “Da-ge is pretty much enamored with you. Lan Wangji would become your best friend before my brother would ever reject you.”

“Lan Wangji hates me.”

“Exactly! So, no problem.”

Jiang Cheng hates how pathetic he sounds, how he still needs some reassurance despite being told such multiple times. “Is Nie Mingjue really… enamored with me?” 

“Disgustingly so,” Nie Huaisang replies immediately. “Wake up and smell the lotuses, lover boy.”

Jiang Cheng wrinkles his nose at the nickname, “There aren’t any lotuses in Qinghe.”

“Jiang-xiong, I swear I’m going to get Zonghui in here to beat you if you don’t promise me you’ll do something soon.”

Jiang Cheng scoffs at the notion, “What, you won’t even beat me yourself?”

“Shut up and let me finish painting you.”

Jiang Cheng finds it very difficult to keep the small smile threatening to break free off of his face for the remainder of the session. 

xxx

xxx

We've all seen purple potato fairy Jiang Cheng, right? Right.

Thank you for reading!

#mingcheng #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #mdzs #immacaria #tried to write

[elliethefroggy]

The Princess and the Knight

This is part of Sangcheng Month 2020.   Prompt for Day 1: Childhood friends

(link to ao3)

“No! Someone save me!” Nie Huaisang shrieked as Wei Wuxian held him down on the playground floor, tickling him mercilessly. 

Despite the high-pitched screaming, Wei Wuxian didn’t stop. In fact, he tickled his friend even faster, all the while giggling manically. 

“No! Stop it.” Nie Huaisang swatted at his friend's hands, trying to squirm away with no success. 

Just as Nie Huaisang was considering accepting his fate and collapsing into a limp mess, Jiang Cheng walked over looking sterner than any five year old had the right to be. 

Nie Huaisang stretched out his hand, the one that wasn’t desperately trying to pry Wei Wuxian’s wiggling fingers away from his sides.

“Jiang Cheng! Help! Protect me from this monster!” Nie Huaisang pleaded, holding in his giggling as best he could. 

Jiang Cheng looked down at the two of them, his two best friends. He thought about walking away, leaving them to their own embarrassing devices, but Nie Huaisang had sounded really pathetic. 

He grabbed Wei Wuxian’s arm and pulled him off Nie Huaisang.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian moaned, pouting as he was dragged off the giggling Nie Huaisang, “You always ruin all my fun.”

“Leave Huaisang alone, or I’m going to tell Nie Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng said. That immediately stopped any and all complaining from Wei Wuxian. Nie Mingjue easily dwarfed all of them at the age of eleven and was exceedingly protective of his little brother. No matter how great at cuddles Nie Huaisang claimed he was, everyone was at least a little scared of Nie Mingjue. 

“Jiang Cheng, my saviour! My knight in shining armour!” Nie Huaisang rushed to his feet and threw himself into Jiang Cheng’s arms. Jiang Cheng had no choice but to hold onto him; he was also slightly scared of Nie Mingjue — not that he would admit to it — and he didn't want to know what Nie Mingjue would do to him if he accidentally dropped Nie Huaisng onto the ground.

“Quick! Save me from this dirty beast!” Nie Huaisang cried.

They both ignored Wei Wuxian’s indignant “Hey!” at being called names. 

Jiang Cheng held onto Nie Huaisang more tightly and carried him away as best he could, taking his knight in shining armour role seriously. He carried Nie Huaisang all the way to the other side of the playground but had to put him down when recess was over and they had to go back to class. 

At lunchtime, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng sat next to each other. Wei Wuxian wasn’t allowed to sit with them because Nie Huaisang hadn’t yet forgiven Wei Wuxian for attacking him during recess. Wei Wuxian was a few tables over with Wen Ning. He kept sending them pouts every few minutes. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang pretended not to see. 

(Wei Wuxian was so busy pouting at them that he didn’t notice Lan Zhan sending him longing looks from across the canteen.)

“I’ve been thinking,” Nie Huasang said, “And I think that as a reward for saving me, we should get married.”

“Aren’t we too young?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Nie Huaisang waved the problem away. Jiang Cheng was pretty sure it did matter but he stayed quiet because he didn’t like to argue with Nie Huaisang. 

“And that’s what they do in the fairy tales; after the knight saves the princess from the bad guy, they get married and live happily ever after.”

“Does that make you the princess?”

“Of course. Why? Do you think I’m not pretty enough to be a princess?” Nie Huaisang asks, trying to raise one eyebrow like he’d seen adults do. 

Jiang Cheng stuttered for a moment, then mumbled “You’re very pretty.” He looked down at his food, his cheeks turning red. Nie Huaisang also went red, but he had a pleased smile on his face, looking as smug as can be while blushing. 

“And that makes you the white knight!” Nie Huaisang continued.

Jiang Cheng looked down at his top “I’m wearing purple,” he said. 

“It’s an expression.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. It’s something Father said. Anyway, to thank this brave knight, I offer you my hand in marriage.” Nie Huaisan held out his hand and Jiang Cheng took it, confused but wanting to play along. 

“Shouldn’t we ask a grown-up’s permission to get married first?” Jiang Cheng asked. Marriage sounded like a big deal and he didn’t want to get into trouble. 

He tried to open his juice box with one hand; it was hard, but he didn’t want to let go of Nie Huaisang. 

“We can ask Da-ge later.”

“Okay, that works,” Jiang Cheng said, “but can we get married tomorrow? I promised Wei Wuxian I’d help him prank Wen Chao later.”

“Okay, tomorrow.” Nie Huaisang let go of Jiang Cheng’s hand and that made Jiang Cheng kind of sad, but Nie Huaisang only let go long enough to help Jiang Cheng with his juice box and then put his hand right back where it was before, so it was alright. 

“Do you want some of my juice box?” Jiang Cheng asked, holding out the box. He didn’t like sharing his juice boxes but if they were going to get married, he figured it would be alright to share with Nie Huisang. 

“What flavour is it?”

“Grape.”

“Sure.” Nie Huaisang said. Jiang Cheng handed over the box to his fiancé. 

They continued holding hands during the rest of the meal.

Later that day:  

“Wait! What?! You’re getting married?! To Nie Huaisang?!” Wei Wuxian shrieked in indignation. He was so indignant he stopped mixing the orange slime that would later find a home in Wen Chao’s bottle of orange juice.

Wei Wuxian started ranting (something about no one being good enough for his shidi, and how he would not be blessing this marriage); Jiang Cheng ignored him and took over mixing the slime. 

Instead, he thought about what was an appropriate wedding present for his future husband. Maybe he could draw Nie Huaisang a bird. Huiasang liked birds.

#ok so I may have posted this a day late #but I just got out of nanowrimo so i derserved i break #hope you enjoy it #sangchengmonth2020 #sangchengber #day 1 #sangcheng #fic #my fic #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #childhood friends #jiang cheng and nie huaisang being adorable babies together #not really they're like 5 in this #but still adorable and soft #while wei wuxian is his ussal gremlin self #the untamed #mdzs #the princess and the knight #jiang wanyin

[thatrandomdarkness]

Jin Guangyao: What did you do?

Nie Huaisang: Oh you'll see. :)

Wei Wuxian: *Comes back from the dead*

Jin Guangyao: Huaisan—

Nie Huaisang: :)

Jin Guangyao: *Loses an arm, the ones he loves and his hat.* aaaaaaAAAHHHH.

Nie Huaisang: :)

#mo dao zu shi #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the founder of diabolism #the untamed #wei wuxian #that's the show

[angstymdzsthoughts]

It`s about ex-husband! LWJ. I remember about letter where Nie Huaisan want to be with Wei Ying. And he was upset when Jin Guanyao died, but LWJ and WWX was happy married. He has a chance now, when LWJ disappointed in Wei Ying (sorry for my english)

Nie Huaisang is patient, he waited ten years to get his revenge on Jin Guangyao for gods sake, but he isn’t getting any younger so he makes sure to speed things along with his goal of getting Wei Wuxian.

It takes one year for Lan Wangji to divorce him and it takes only three months for Wei Wuxian to wonder into Qinghe, where Nie Huaisang eagerly invites his old friend into his home. It doesn’t take much for Wei Wuxian to start seeing him as his savior, the one who took him away from the hard life of a rouge cultivator with no family or home and gave him a life of leisure in the Unclean Realms. A simple cup of wine laced with an aphrodisiac was all it took to become his lover.

Within a year of Wei Wuxian’s divorce he belonged entirely to Nie Huaisang and he couldn’t be happier about it.

#reply #divorce au #Nie Huaisang #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #mdzs

[lansizhuis]

In modern au, NHS would be a fantasy writer who writes very plotty, epic bestsellers, but his hobby is writing smutty fics with his own characters and posting them online anonymously.

NIE HUAISAN AND SCUM VILLAIN’S SHANG QINGHUA WOULD BE BEST OF FRIENDS

#anon #answers

[ineffableboyfriends]

Gryffindor: Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Nie Mingjue, Jin Ling, Jin Zixuan, Lan Jingyi

Ravenclaw: Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Lan Sizhui

Slytherin: Nie Huaisan, Jin Guangyao, A-Qing, Xue Yang

Hufflepuff: Wen Ning, Wen Qing, Jiang Yanli, Xiao Xingchen

Discuss

#mdzs #text

[superheroladies]

Hi! I just wanted to say I'm really happy you're into MDZS as well and I wanna know who your fav characters are b/c you tend to have interesting tastes

Hello!! Ahhh I don’t know how to feel about that statement cuz there seems to be some low-key shade and frankly I don’t blame you for it haha 

I think I’m predictable enough so ofc it’s Madam Yu

Frankly most of the characters are interesting enough to be likable so there aren’t that many characters I dislike so far -depends on how I see things unfold in the animation cuz that’s how I got into it and then read most of the novel for the main plot with jgy and nmj-

to the surprise of no one, the three male characters I listed are the ones who spend half of the story crying 

#cute anons #the fact that i was interested enough to read the novel should say a lot cuz like #i lost my capacity to read for 4 years or so