#they roam the world being cultivation partners as they should

[toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp]

Hello and welcome to Day 4 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"

Since yesterday's post was Long™️ I decided that the fic idea I wanna put forward today should be more on the short side (like a one-shot or less than 10 chapters short fic) just so I can claim that my brain isn't torturing me with fics ideas of the length and detail like yesterday's (which is a total lie on my part but claiming otherwise makes me feel better)

So, I present to you:

Unwilling cat!Shen Qingqiu and Very exited owner!Shen Yuan (feat. Panicking! Shang Qinghua because the Plot has gone off the rails and the System is having an... aneurysm?)

Edit: As of February 6th, this fic has a title:

"Dogs are dogs, but cats are people"

When Shen Yuan woke up (after he died) he did not expect to see himself in the body of a 12 years old child, all alone in the middle of nowhere. After a very much needed freak out given his circumstances, Shen Yuan did what he always did best: chose one direction and started walking in that direction in search of civilization. When he came across a village, it was not the way the people were dressed nor the way they spoke that surprised him; instead it was the name of the village. A name that he had only read once, in a specific stallion novel that he hated with a passion.

"Well," Shen Yuan thinks sarcastically, "this is fantastic, isn't it?" (At least he can be happy he was reborn as a non-essential character and not someone like the Scum Villain, right?)

With the amount of knowledge accumulated from the stallion novel, Shen Yuan managed to form a golden core in a couple of years and currently roams the lands as a rogue cultivator. He feels way healthier than in his previous life and prefers to stay out of the drama that is the main story line of "Proud Immortal Demon Way."" Why, you ask? Because he already died because he choked. All the deaths in PIDW are 100% worse and more painful. So, no, thank you. He is gonna avoid the Cang Qiong Sect (and all other sects) like the plague.

Two years after he transmigrated in this world, Shen Yuan finds a little white kitty with green eyes that hisses at him like the small little thing is ready to spew poison.

Shen Yuan thinks the little thing - it's a boy - is very much adorable.

Taking the little kitty in his hands, not minding how his claws are piercing through the skin of his palms, Shen Yuan looks at him with a big grin on his face. "Spicy little thing, aren't you?"

The kitten looks at him and lets out a very grumpy "Mrow" before bitting the finger that was massaging under the kitten's chin.

Seems Shen Yuan found himself a new travel companion.

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

Shen Qingqiu is having a bad day. Scratch that - his day is so awful, it is worthy of being put in his "Top Five Most Awful Days".

It started with that idiot Yue Qingyuan calling him "Xiao Jiu" - a name which he hates with his entire being - and telling him he is needed for a mission. Which, fine. It's not that bad.

But then the partner for this mission turned out to be none other than that Bai Zhan Brute of a Man, Liu Qingge. A man with whom he can never get along. But they have been through other missions together even if they have butted heads mid-way through the mission. So, again, nothing really new here.

What was new about his situation is that he is currently stuck as a four legged small animal. Like actually a small animal. And he has no sword anymore... or clothes. And he can't even feel his cultivation.

"Fantastic" he thinks sarcastically as he moves slowly through the crowd of people in search for that Bai Zhan Brute. (Liu Qingge has to be able to recognize him, right? Right?)

He never expected to be picked up by a child no older than that little beast of a desciple he has. He also never expected that, despite all the hissing, bitting, clawing and wiggling he used in order to escape from the kid's hold, the idiotic child (cause there is no way this kid has all mental faculties intact) would just laugh and seem... pleased?.

"This child, Shen Yuan, is weird." Shen Qingqiu concludes in his mind as he looks at the little idiot grinning despite Shen Qingqiu's fangs holding his finger hostage. "And this day is still awful."

(At least he won't starve tonight.)

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

Liu Qingge is not panicking. He really is not.

If that little spoiled young master of a scolar decided to up and leave mid-way through their mission, it's not his problem.

(Shen Qingqiu wouldn't leave during a mission however. That man is way too prideful for that. And he wouldn't leave his sword and clothes behind in the forest either.)

Liu Qingge checks the Warm Red Pavillion anyway; just to be sure that Shen Qingqiu isn't up to his nefarious deeds like before when he caught him sneaking out to drown himself in carnal pleasures.

(Shen Qingqiu is not there. Liu Qingge check the perimeter three times. Still no sign of that spoiled young master. He is getting worried.)

When Liu Qingge comes back to the inn they are staying at, Shen Qingqiu isn't there either. Nor is he there the next day or the day after that.

Liu Qingge is not panicking. (He is panicking)

He is not going to keep looking for that asshole. (He still checks the entire village for his fellow Peak Lord. There is no trace of him anywhere.)

A heavy sigh escapes from him as the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, the so called God of War, hides his face with the palms of his hands.

"Yue-zhangmen is going to kill me."

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

In the An Ding Peak Lord office, the current Peak Lord Shang Qinghua looks at the scattered papers on his desk with growing horror.

Not because there are a lot of papers for him to write or check.

Nor is it because some of them have splashes of ink on them which means he has to re-write them from scratch again.

The reason behind the horror in his eyes lies in the floating screen that glows red intermittently, as if it is a piece of wood in a see of fire. The words on the floating screen read as follows:

"SYSTEM ERROR! SYSTEM ERROR!

THE PLOT OF THE NOVEL "PROUD IMMORTAL DEMON WAY" HAS DIVERTED FROM ITS INTENTED COURSE.

OOC BEHAVIOUR DETECTED FROM SEVERAL CHARACTERS!"

Shang Qinghua's eyes are still wide with horror as he faintly wispers, more to himself than the System.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

--------

Luo Binghe doesn't know what to do. Liu-Shifu returned a month ago from a mission with his Shizun (his very mean Shizun; the Shizun that he still wants to be acknowledged by, be praised by) without well,... his Shizun.

Everything went downhill from there.

He, together with Ming Fan and Ning Yingying, are still taking part in the search parties for his Shizun. But the search still yields no result.

No one seems to have seen his Shizun at all. It's like the man was swallowed by the earth itself.

While searching around, Luo Binghe comes across a rogue cultivator by the name of Shen Yuan. He seems to be his age and is a very nice person. (Luo Binghe really likes this rogue cultivator. He is very kind to him and Luo Binghe can count the people that were nice to him in his life on one hand)

The only problem is that Shen Yuan's little white cat doesn't seem to like him - or anyone, besides maybe Shen Yuan - all that much.

Still maybe asking Shen Yuan to help them find Shizun is a good idea. (Plus he gets to spend more time with Shen Yuan too. That's a bonus.)

So what do you guys think?

Also here:

Cat!Shen Jiu towards everybody:

Cat!Shen Jiu waiting for his supposed fellow "Peak Lords" and "desciples" to realize that he is the cat (and they still don't):

Shen Jiu, throughout this whole fic: I am surrounded by idiots....

This idea was both fun to come up with and hilarious to boot too. I might actually take a shot at writing this, given that my brain doesn't make it an over 10 chapter long fic. I do have a question though: if you were to give this fic a title, what title it would be? (I need all the help to chose titles cause I am BAD at them)

Regardless, I hope you had fun reading this and that the rest of your day will nice as well (and good night to those that read this post just before bed).

I will see you guys tomorrow,

- TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help

P.S.: This was low-key, the inspiration behind the idea of this fic

#shen qingqiu #poor shen jiu #cat shen jiu #shen yuan #svsss #fic ideas #i am sorry Shang Qinghua #i love you I promise #I just love you freaking out over the plot derailing even more #liu qingge is panicking right about now #shen jiu is losing braincells #and those braincells can never be recovered #spicy kitty shen jiu #shen yuan loves him #(even if he doesn't know it's shen jiu) #i swear this was supposed to be an one-shot but my brain said “Make it a multi chapter” #Me: How many chapters? Brain: Numbers are irrelevant. Me: Fuck you. #bingyuan #i guess

[celenacallaghan]

New-Old Souls

Izzy Ambershield x Hien Rijin/Varian Wrynn

World of Warcraft/Final Fantasy XIV Crossover

Tags: Angst, drama, reincarnation, AU, spoilers, Stormblood/Endwalker spoilers, Battle for Azeroth spoilers, all the feels, reunion, some sexiness, flirting, kissing, not beta’d

When the Bronze Dragonflight spirited Isoldera Ambershield away from the dying Azeroth, she found herself embraced by Hydaelyn and reborn in a land known as Eorzea. For years, she believed herself alone. The only survivor amidst a handful of survivors of the Old Gods. It isn’t until she lays eyes on Hien Rijin, the lost Doman prince, that she realizes perhaps she isn’t as alone as she feared. 

The grassy plains of the Azim Steppe danced in the evening breeze. Full to the brim with delicious food and drink, prepared by the blushing Cirina, Izzy wandered over to where the sounds of battle rang out. Her heart pinched with every step, every resounding cry. Even in this far off world, so different from her own Azeroth, in a new body and all alone, she knew the shine of his soul. She leaned against an enormous boulder that separated her from Gosetsu and…Hien. She needed to remember to call him Hien, although her very being cried out that wasn’t his name.

           Young. So very young. Yet their stories shared so many similarities. Both lost their fathers at a young age. Heirs to thrones stolen out from under them. Warriors filled with pride, honor, and fire. Hien wasn’t tempered by age or experience, though. Not like him. Her storm king. Izzy brushed her damp cheek and took a shuddering breath. The first time she laid eyes on Hien Rijin, she almost sobbed his name.

           Varian. Varian Wrynn.

           Izzy clenched her hands into fists behind her back. Not since her first years on Eorzea had she longed so strongly for her homeland. For her dark lady. Her storm king. His soul was here, but Hien remembered nothing of Varian. The torment of having her beloved king so near and yet so unreachable drove her to roam the Steppe for days until her emotions settled. She used the excuse of learning the lay of the land to deflect Lyse and Gosetsu’s questions, and while Izzy had learned much about the layout of the Steppe, and encountered a few of the Xaela tribes who lived there, she couldn’t run forever. She had to face it. Face him.

           “Were you truly so concerned with my well-being?” The lighter, accented voice took on a teasing tone. “You never showed it when we used to spar.”

           A bark of laughter came from the rough old samurai. “How you cried when you lost. And when your mother tried to comfort you. And when you inevitably came at me once more, swinging your wooden sword like a wild beast.” The tone shifted into one of fondness and memory. “Mina’s little Master Shun. What a fine young man you’ve become.”

           She snorted under her breath, but it was enough to attract their attention. Hien called out to her.

           “Ah, the mask slips. And here I was, so close to cultivating a winning persona. Don’t you agree, Isobella?”

           That name grated on her ears. It wasn’t hers, but she hadn’t the courage to give him her true name when they first met. Not when he didn’t even blink at her appearance. Izzy emerged from her hiding place and approached the old friends. Gosetsu laughed and chided Hien to be himself until they won back Doma. Izzy glanced at Hien; her lips twisted in a bemused smirk.

           “’Shun’, was it?”

           Red patches appeared on his cheeks and he huffed with a grin and a shrug. “Yes, yes, tis a name my parents gave me as a child – but I should like to think I have long since outgrown it.” Hien eyed her with a familiar gleam in his eye. “But as you seem determined to bring it back into use, I believe a match is in order. If I win, you will be honor-bound to divulge one of your darkest secrets.”

           Her pulse leaped. A smile slowly formed on her lips. “Very well. Gosetsu, may I steal your sparring partner?”

           He gave one of his chest-deep laughs and bowed. “Have at him, my lady. It shall be an amusing spectacle, the Warrior of Light and the Prince of Doma.”

           Izzy hummed her agreement and swung her lance from her back. Hesitated. This wasn’t the way Varian knew her, and if she wanted to awaken his soul, she needed to be herself. Or as close to the self as she had been back on Azeroth. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a stone that pulsed in cadence with her racing heart. A bit of concentration, a flash of magic, and her armor vanished, replaced by flowing, open robes over thigh-high boots and trousers. Instead of a lance, she wielded a staff, one that shone gold as the sun. A few tugs undid her braid and she let her masses of amethyst-touched curls fall down her shoulders and back.

           Hien froze. Was that a flash of blue in his eyes? A hint of recognition? It was gone too fast to trace, and the young prince drew his katana. She paced off against him and lowered her staff as though she held her lance. The weapons were different, a lance meant for piercing and power, the staff for bludgeoning and blocking, but nothing could erase the imprint on her soul of her past as a healer. One who wielded staff and mace alike to the terror of her enemies and the victory of her allies, whose magic blazed across the battlefield like a supernova.

           “Are you certain you wish to fight as a mage, my friend? My young master is a talented swordsman – “

           “I am familiar with the staff, thank you.”

           The pair faced each other and a flash from the past rushed in. Northrend. Her amongst a group of orcs. Across the plains, Varian on his steed, with a squad of Alliance soldiers. They had to battle then. It was what honor and the hate between the factions demanded. She didn’t face him directly in combat, that honor reserved for Garrosh, but that moment when their eyes locked across the tundra plains remained scorched in her soul. Izzy met Hien’s pale green eyes and her hands tightened on her staff. She begged to any deity listening: let him remember her.

           “Hajime!”

           At Gosetsu’s shout, they clashed. Hien was precise. Every slash of his sword part of the Iaijutsu training engrained in him since childhood. There was no hint of the wild, almost berserker energy of her storm king. Yet Izzy fought on. His blade struck her stave, but its iron core ensured it didn’t break. They traded blows and weaved about, each testing the other’s reflexes and prodding for weaknesses. While Hien had speed and precision, Izzy had strength and agility honed in her dragoon training. Without her heavy plate armor, she fairly danced away from his strikes.

           “Quite impressive, Warrior of Light,” Hien complimented, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But do not think I shall surrender.”

           “Never crossed my mind,” she quipped back, falling into familiar habits. “Let’s dance.”

           They continued. Izzy dodged many of his blows with dragoon jumps, but he never let her get far. A bubble of laughter escaped her as she landed on top of a rock and Hien dashed across the green to reach her. He leaped onto the rock and swung, but she had already slipped away. She spun, her feet landed in a wide, balanced stance, and brandished her staff.

           “You’ll have to be faster than that, my lord.”

           The grin that lit his features shattered her focus. It wasn’t the practiced smile of a courtier, the laughing face of a friend, or the manic leer of Zenos. It called to mind a wolf, its teeth bared, when its prey glimpsed it in the trees, and like prey, Izzy froze. Hien charged her with a roar and she barely raised her weapon in time. The strike hit harder, rattling through her bones, and she grit her teeth against the impact. He bore down on her. Foolish. She wielded a lance that weighed more than a man. Even his strength couldn’t make her buckle.

           “Do you yield?” he growled.

           She fought the urge to close her eyes and shudder. Heat pooled low in her belly and she met his eyes.

           “Never,” she whispered. “My king.”

           His eyes went wide, black centers expanding and yes, there. A flash of blue. A little more. She almost reached him. Izzy pressed closer, using the strength in her core and legs to brace herself, until they were inches apart and his hot breath brushed her cheek. She grunted as he changed the angle of his sword and twisted her wrist in the wrong direction, but hung on. Close. She was so close. She fought back in the contest of raw strength; her arms trembled and their weapons rattled as they tried to force the other into submission. Sweat beaded along her brow as the heat in her core grew.

           “You demanded one of my darkest secrets if you win.” Her voice took on a husky edge that drew the young lord’s gaze to her lips. “I will give you one now. My true name isn’t Isobella.” She paused. “It’s Isoldera Ambershield.”

           With all the power she had from the Crystal of Light, the Echo, and the absorption of Hraesvalgr’s eye, she strained to reach the soul that slept within Hien. Light, first pale blue and that of Hydaelyn, formed between them. Then slowly, slowly, it turned gold as she willed her Echo to show the truth of the soul. Not to her, but to him.

           “Please,” she begged, throat thick and eyes burning. “Please, remember. Remember me, storm king.”

 *          * *             **           **           *

             When Hien first met the Warrior of Light, something in him roared and struggled to wake. A part of himself he always struggled with since childhood. The wild temper, the lust for combat, the stubborn refusal to submit to Garlean rule, all parts of himself his tutors tried to drum out of him. It wasn’t fitting for a prince to show such emotions. It wasn’t safe to draw the eye of their Garlean overlords. So Hien smothered that part of himself in etiquette, honor, and duty. For the sake of his parents, his retainers, his people, he became the drone that Garlemald wanted to see.

           He smothered it, but it didn’t die.

           It flared when he glimpsed her amethyst eyes in the dark. They almost glowed with the power she carried as effortlessly as the enormous lance on her back. That same color appeared when the sun struck her raven hair and highlighted the purple undertones. And when she donned her healer robes, he shook with the effort to contain the raging beast within. This woman, this Elezen woman with secrets in her eyes and sunshine in her smile, destroyed what took years to contain. He wasn’t even certain if it was such a terrible thing.

           He chased her across the plains, certain she toyed with him. The likes of him did not challenge such a vaunted warrior, whose only defeat had been at the hands of Zenos. But an inner voice growled that he had to win. Show her the truth. His strength may not be as great as hers, but he was no weakling. Hien used every combination of Sen in his arsenal, everything he knew, but it wasn’t enough to reach her. She was too wild, too unpredictable, with how she used dragoon techniques while wielding the power of a white mage. He needed to match that wildness.

           He had to embrace his inner beast.

           A wolf’s howl echoed in his mind as he turned the tables. Abandoning form and precision, he struck with reckless strength and abandon. Gosetsu yelled something. Of course his teacher would be appalled, but he didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the woman whose bewitching eyes never left his.

           “You demanded one of my darkest secrets if you win.”

           Hien’s breath caught but he didn’t yield in their contest of strength. His muscles screamed with strain as he fought to keep her in place. No woman had ever matched him with such strength. Such power. He dug the heel of his boot into the dirt, even as his eyes drifted to her deep red lips as they formed her next words.

           “I will give you one now. My true name isn’t Isobella.” She paused. “It’s Isoldera Ambershield.”

           The howling in his ears grew, joined by the roar of a lion, as light and memory exploded in his mind’s eye. A castle of white stone and blue rooftops that soared above a shining city. A woman with blue eyes and golden hair, who held a swaddled babe in her arms. Wait. He knew this. He had done this before. A tall, Elven male with dusky skin and green hair sat with him in pools of water. Another woman, also golden-haired, stood over him as she chanted spells. Her ice blue magic filled the room, and he thought of how appropriate that word was to describe it. Words rang out.

           “You are…you must be…Varian Wrynn, the lost king of Stormwind!”

           Brown eyes danced with promised mischief. “I see what Izzy meant when she said I was your Winter’s Veil gift.” He gave a sweeping, courtly bow. “Paxton Ashbough, son and heir of Duke Vincent Ashbough of Stormwind’s House of Lords at your service and with every drop of court news a king in hiding could want.”

           A boy, golden haired and blue-eyed, looked up at him with a heart-breaking torment in his eyes. “I - I couldn’t sleep. I kept dreaming about Onyxia and then Garona. They killed you. Over and over.” His boy trembled, face pale in the ghostly light. “I needed to see that you were really here.”

           Memory after memory, colors, sensations, sounds, names, and more rushed through his mind in a dizzying spiral that left him reeling. One memory rose above the others, as though guided to him. He peered through to a bleary vision. Blazing, golden eyes set in a tanned face and surrounded by wild, black curls. Curls that shone violet under the sun. Crimson lips as red as blood as they laughed, frowned, kissed him, loved him –

           His breath hitched in his chest as her hair tumbled over bare shoulders and shielded them from the outside world. She knelt astride him, a goddess in all her glory. Her eyes seared his soul as she stroked his cheek and moaned his name like a prayer.

           “Varian.”

           His precious Amber.

           The woman he wasn’t supposed to love. An enemy. A savior. A friend. Hien – Varian – cried out as memories continued to assault him. Who was he? A soft, familiar voice brushed his ear. Or was it his mind?

           “You went through this once before, storm king. Go deep inside yourself. Find the center of the storm and the strength to accept who you are.”

           A path through the howling chaos appeared, lit with soft golden light. He knew that light. He trusted that light. A voice within him urged him to go. It was older, deeper, and reminded him of Gosetsu. Or perhaps his father. With firm words, it bade him follow the path. He struggled to his feet, but hesitated. Part of him didn’t wish to go. If he walked down that path, who would he become? Who waited for him at the end? Who was this Varian Wrynn and why did his story and his soul feel so familiar? Although the Garleans beat many things out of him, they hadn’t fully stifled his curiosity. Hien placed one foot forward, then another, and again, until he walked down the path where a tall, shadowed figure dressed in armor awaited him.

 *          * *             **           **           *

             “What have you done?” Gosetsu yelled over her. “If you’ve hurt him – “

           “I haven’t hurt him,” she snapped back. “And as for what I’ve done, it’s personal, has nothing to do with you, and won’t damage him in any way, shape, or form. Now, if you would please leave us alone so I can monitor him?”

           The damned samurai had jumped in the moment Hien collapsed. Izzy understood his fear, but the old bastard tried to block her from the fallen prince and she almost bashed him for it. She needed to be at his side to guide him through the chaos of his memories. When she first woke hers with the help of the Echo, it took her months to sort out the mess because she had no idea how to wield the strange power. Thank Belore she learned fast out of necessity.

           Gosetsu didn’t leave, but he did back away, grumbling the entire time. Izzy ignored him in favor of keeping her senses and magic attuned to Hien. Just the act of healing him made her chest tighten so hard it hurt to breathe, but she remained steady. When she felt the storm of his memories and emotions slow, she pulled back a little. Time stretched as the currents of his soul and aether settled and merged into one. She waited. Touched his face. Held his hand. Steady pulse. Deep, even breaths. She laced her fingers through his and squeezed.

           “I’m sorry. I know, I know I’m selfish. I just – I missed you so much. I never – I never thought I’d see you again,” she choked, voice barely above a whisper. “Please. Please wake up, Varian. Don’t leave me again.”

           She lowered her ear to his chest just to hear his heartbeat, to reassure herself that he was alive, as tears streaked down her face. A quiet sob caught in her throat as she pressed a kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Alone, but together with the man she had loved enough to challenge a nation for, the floodgates opened and she wept.

           “It’s gone. It’s all gone. Azeroth. The Alliance, the Horde. The Old Gods came back and N’Zoth – N’Zoth – “ She couldn’t finish the sentence. “There were so few of us left. Anduin. Jaina. Sylvanas. Vol’jin. We did our best. We tried. He was too much. Not even Wrathion’s stupid, goddamn cloaks made a difference in the end.”

           The whole story tumbled from her as she wept for their lost home and fallen comrades, but she held onto one small spark of hope.

           “The bronze dragons got us out. The last of us.” She lifted her head. “So you have to come back. You have to help me find them. Please, my love. Please.”

           Her words dissolved into a formless babble of pleas and apologies. Izzy was meant to be the hero of Azeroth. She was supposed to save them. In the end, she couldn’t save anyone. The world soul died. The Void Lords took over. Azeroth became what Eorzea now knew as the Seventh. Or perhaps the Thirteenth. A world consumed by either Darkness or Void, but still gone. The only home she’d ever known. People she loved. The history, the cultures, the nations. For so long, she was the only one who knew or remembered Azeroth and all it had been. All it could have been, had the endless cycle of war and hate not sown the seeds which allowed the Old Gods to tear Azeroth’s world soul apart after they corrupted her.

           “And now here I am, in a new world, expected to be its savior all over again. I can’t.” She shook her head, forehead against his breastplate. “I can’t do it. Not alone. I’m not as strong as I was. I’m weak. Useless. I don’t know why the bronzes bothered to save me.”

           Haurchefant. Ysayle. Moenbryda. Papalymo. The whole of Azeroth. Minfilia. Who was she trying to fool? Though she took up the lance, determined to strengthen herself so she would never lose anyone again…it still happened. And each death cut the deepest parts of her heart and reminded her of how weak she was. How badly she failed those who counted on her. It was that same reason which drove her away from healing when her memories first woke in Eorzea. It reminded her too much of who she used to be.

           The failed hero.

              A soft touch to her hair made her head shoot up. She gazed into eyes that were bluer than before, still with a hint of olive green, and new lines fanning from the corners. Her vision blurred as more tears welled and fell.

           “We will find them, precious Amber,” he murmured, the voice a low rumble between Hien’s cultured Doman accent and Varian’s low growl. “Together.”

           She should have been more restrained. Stoic. But that had never been her way. Izzy’s heart burst and she wailed as she threw herself into Hien’s arms. Because despite having awakened his memories, he was still the young lord of Doma. But the muscled arms that held her tight and stroked her hair just so were all Varian. Great, shuddering cries racked her body as she clutched her beloved, until he tipped her head back and wiped her tears. Then he mortified her by swiping at her running nose with his shirtsleeve, but before she could pull away, he kissed her.

            It was nothing so simple, though. When his lips brushed hers, searching, bold, and achingly familiar, it shattered the barrier protecting the deepest parts of her soul she kept locked away from her fellow Scions. They wouldn’t, couldn’t, understand the pain and memories she held. But he did. He rolled them until he pinned Izzy to the ground and covered her with his body. He rested his full weight on her, just how she liked it, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. Every fiber of her being screamed that yes, this was her storm king. At long last. Izzy moved one hand from his hard, muscled shoulder to his wild mane of hair.

           Inky black rather than dark brown, but still soft as silk between her fingers, she undid the top knot and let it fall free. Faint traces of pine and something else, something Doman, tickled her nose, but it was still him. He bit her lip and soothed it with his tongue. The sharpness of it brought a yelp from her, followed by a deep, throaty moan. Oh yes. He remembered. Izzy twined her fingers through his hair and raked her nails gently over his scalp. The growl that rumbled in his chest sent a powerful thrill through her, along with another wave of heat and slickness between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, wanting him inside her, entwined as they hadn’t been in years. His muscles quivered under her hand, tense with restraint.

           He released her mouth long enough to gasp, “The others…will wonder…”

           As much as she wanted to dismiss them, Izzy sighed. “I suppose I’ve been selfish enough for one night. But I promise you this, my love.” She tugged his head and used the leverage to roll him onto his back until she laid on top. “Once I get you in my bed, I’m not letting you leave until you properly apologize for leaping off that zeppelin and dying on me.”

           He returned her challenge with a cocky smirk and dark, lust-blown eyes. “That doesn’t sound like much of a punishment, precious Amber.”

           Gods above. She held firm, even though his words made her want to cling to him and cry for joy. She cocked a brow in playful challenge and chortled darkly. “Oh, my dearest lord. If you thought my sexual knowledge and appetite shocking back on Azeroth, you have no idea what’s in store for you after my life in Eorzea.”

           Izzy leaned down. Instead of the kiss he expected, she darted at the last minute and nipped his neck right above the collar of his armor. She didn’t have fangs as she did when she was a sin’dorei but it still made a lovely bruise that was sure to draw questions from the others. Cackling to herself, she leaped off of him before he could retaliate and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. It was a familiar move on her part and she sucked in a breath when heat filled his eyes.

           It wouldn’t be easy. Eorzea had its own challenges. She still carried all the expectations of the Warrior of Light. But for the first time since she remembered who she truly was, Izzy’s heart swelled with hope. A hope that would, one day, shine brighter than Belore’s sun. (Author’s Note: I took some dialogue directly from FFXIV cut scenes, the Warcraft comics, and my own fanfics. This was a snippet that grabbed my by the throat and refused to let go, but is not canon to my current WoW or FFXIV fics. Thanks for reading!)

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #World of Warcraft #WoW #crossover #crossover fic #FFXIV/WoW crossover #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #amwriting #Varian Wrynn #Hien Rijin #Warrior of Light #Isoldera Ambershield #ocs #my ocs #my writing #romance #drama #angst #reunion fic

[gildedextracts]

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[thirdofjune]

Wangxian AU: Su She was successful in his mission of bringing the Yiling Laozu back playing the Song of Clarity; he just didn’t take into account the fact that Hanguang-jun's guqin song would be able to break the “ghost’s” programming again. Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian Wei Ying knew this song, even if there was no name for it in his memoy; he knew the person who played it - he should not hurt him.

After fighting side by side for some time, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were able to escape; then with the help of the YunmengJiang and the GusuLan clans, they defeated Su She, Jin Guangyao and their henchmen.

Back in Gusu, Wei Wuxian gets his injuries treated and starts to heal from his brainwashing with the help of doctors and of the GusuLan meditation. After getting in touch again with the people from his past - a past that does not feel that much like another lifetime now - Wei Wuxian decides that he would like to stay away from the cultivation world and its news for a while. He and Lan Wangji roam around the world, helping when they can but most of the time simply enjoying their time together wherever they are. When Wei Ying confesses his love to Lan Zhan again, on a night at the jingshi, this is just the start of a new story altogether.

[part one] [part two]

#wangxian #wangxian au #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed au #mdzs au #as always the headcanons for this au are under: wangxian au #mine #this is probably the last gifset of this au #the title of the notes was like 'soft epilogue' #so that's why like 7/10 gifs are fluFF #and yes wangxian.mp3 broke the ylz's programming bye #they roam the world being cultivation partners as they should #i wish i could read this vs i wish i could write 200k of this #neither is going to happen but a person can dream :) #idk if the english is correct but.... i just want to share this and be done with it haha #the quotes are from mdzs + cql #this is also me saying 'fck you' to m@rvel for doing stucky so dirty #they couldve had their soft epilogue too #m writes

[mgsdays]

do u know any other comics/BLs like 19days? #🥪

Hey dear!

Ohh that's a good question. I don't know any quite like 19 days, an ongoing story that is ultra slow burn. I have read some other amazing BLs though. Here's some that I like:

.

Totally Captivated

• Complete | 49 chapters plus some extras

• General vibe: humor, romance

If you like the mafia background of 19 days, an amazing manhwa is Totally Captivated. Lighthearted, fun and very hot 🔥 One character gives me strong He Tian vibes, both in appearance and in attitude. Plus, the main couple has some fantastic chemistry.

Summary: Jung Ewon has always let his curiosity get the best of him, but even he could not have predicted that his latest venture would lead to him working for the mafia.

After cheating on his boyfriend and consequently being dumped, Ewon longs for the two of them to reconcile. However, his ex's new boyfriend, the handsome Eun Mookyul, begins to take an interest in him. Finding Ewon intriguing, Mookyul, a mafia boss, decides that he wants Ewon to become his underling—and that's just the start of Ewon's problems.

As the new errand boy in Mookyul's gang, Ewon must now learn to navigate the dangerous world of the mafia all while resisting the advances of his ex-boyfriend's new lover. Should he give in to his desires, he will risk more than just another heartbreak.

At the End of the Road

• Complete | 57 chapters plus extras

• General vibe: dark themes, romance, plot heavy

The summary makes this one sound pretty complicated so I procrastinated checking it out for a bit. When I finally read it I was blown away. The plot is incredible, the romantic interest is ugh so good. The entire story leaves me with a warm feeling of destiny and serendipity. It gets dark and it demands quite a bit of attention but it is definitely worthwhile.

Summary: After a car accident, Taemin finds himself in the body of Siwon, a victim of bullying at school. No longer a pushover, he starts standing up for himself but then meets Woojin, an old friend from the past. Somehow, Woojin immediately picks up Taemin's 'scent' from Siwon. What happened between these two in the past and how will it affect their future?

Walk on Water

• Complete | 62 chapters

• General vibe: romance, hot sex

Ok, this one is a delight to read. It's another one of those "straight guy goes gay for the right guy" kind of plot, but it's beautifully done. The characters' progress feels authentic. You're on the edge of your seat rooting for them. Plus, the art is amazing?? I'd stop reading sometimes just to admire it. @ the artist you didn't have to go this hard and yet you did dude!! Fantstic job.

Plus the sex scenes are just on fire. Phew 🥵

Explicit sex so don't check it out if you're under 18, stay safe, yadda, yadda.

Summary: To earn money, Ed decided to enter the pornographic industry. Secretly, he begins working under the alias of "Tommy". One day, it was suddenly decided that he would be filming as a bottom instead of a top and he's doing it with the famous Glen McQueen as his partner?

No. 6

• Complete | 9 books or 9 mangas (I read the books actually, but the manga is the same story)

• General vibe: social commentary, romance, plot heavy

My all time favorite on the list might be No. 6. No. 6 reads more like 'social political commentary ft. a couple that happens to be boys', rather than a boys love story per see. The plot doesn't revolve around their romance, their romance is also happening in the midst of the chaos. And it is beautiful to watch.

Story wise, No. 6 is a dystopic tale, and it brings up themes of consumption under capitalism, outsourcing of labor, outsorcing of inequalities and goverment control. It's not recent so you might have read it already - if you haven't I can't recommend it enough.

A PERFECT LIFE, IN A PERFECT CITY

For Shion, an elite student in the technologically sophisticated city No. 6, life is carefully choreographed. School, study, and the occasional visit with his friend and classmate Safu. One fateful day, however, he takes a misstep, sheltering an injured boy his age from a typhoon. Known only as Rat, this boy is a VC – a fugitive living outside the computerized tapestry of city control – and helping him will throw Shion’s life into chaos and start him down a path to discovering the appalling secrets behind the superficial perfection of No. 6.

Seven Days

• Complete | 2 volumes

• General vibe: school life, romance

No way you haven't read this, but just in case: seven days!! Go check out seven days!! Seven Days is the BL. School life plots peaked with this one haha It's just two volumes and the story is beautifully done. I re-read from time to time when I want a pick me up.

Summary: On a whim, high school third-year Yuzuru Shino asks out first-year Toji Seryo, who is notorious for being a weeklong lover—he’ll date the first girl to ask him out Monday morning and then promptly dump her by the following Monday! The boys start dating, and by Tuesday, the first inklings of attraction hit. Can these two put words to their feelings before Monday comes, or are old habits too hard to break?

Blue Sky Complex

• Complete | 23 chapters

• General vibe: school life, humor, romance

Another school life story for the list. Blue Sky Complex has some truly hilarious moments, with teenage fumblings that ache with how true to life they are. Zero drama, zero outside interference, just the two main characters slowly (but surely) figuring things out.

Summary: Narasaki only wanted a place where he could sit and read books in peace, but was blackmailed by his teacher into supervising a delinquent called Terashima while working at the school library.

As they spend their days in silent but close proximity, they begin to feel drawn to each other. And then...

Doukyuusei

• Complete | 2 volumes (second is called Sotsugyousey)

• General vibe: lightehearted fun

Fun fact: I went to Japan once and I wanted to buy a book in Japanese just to have it, you know? I don't speak Japanese, I just wanted a book as a souvenir. I bought Doukyuusei. Clearly I'm biased towards this story in particular haha

Everything by this author is gold. Their art style flows, the characters have a certain lightness to them that makes them almost dance in the pages. The author usually draw at least one of the leads with long hair and the hair is so well done, GOD. I could gush about the hair all day.

Perhaps one of the most realistic ones of the list, Doukyuusei is a school life story about when you meet someone at just the right time.

Summary: "A boy boy met a boy. They were in the flush of youth. They were in love that felt like a dream, like sparkling soda pop."

High school students Hiraku Kusakabe and Rihito Sajou are as different as day and night. But opposites attract and before they know it, they've embarked on a journey neither one can quite define but which anyone with eyes can see is "Love."

Mo Dao Zu Shi

• Complete | 126 chapters

• General vibe: slow burn, historical, epic romance

At the risk of being very cliche here: if you haven't read Mo Dao Zu Shi, you're wasting time. Go. This one isn't a manga, but it a fantastic book. It became uber famous for a reason, you know? All the attention is very much deserved. I can't emphasize enough how good it is.

You can watch the TV show The Untamed as well (and the acting is fantastic) but, to me, the experience is just not the same. The TV show removes all explicit romance references from the story, in order to comply with China's censorship. The book leaves nothing out. It is very much a romance, through and through, and it's an epic one. There's slow burn, pining, misunderstandings, fighting everything and everyone for your loved one and coming out stronger on the other side. Truly worth the read.

As the grandmaster who founded the Demonic Path, Wei Wuxian roamed the world in his wanton ways, hated by millions for the chaos he created. In the end, he was backstabbed by his brother and killed by powerful clans that combined to overpower him. He incarnates into the body of a lunatic who was abandoned by his clam and is later, unwillingly, taken away by a famous cultivator among the clans — Lan Wanji. This marks the start of a thrilling yet hilarious journey of attacking monsters, solving mysteries, and raising children. From the mutual flirtation along the way, Wei Wuxian slowly realizes that Lan Wangji, a seemingly haughty and indifferent poker-face, holds more feelings for Wei Wuxian than he is letting on.

#19 days #ask box #anon 🥪 #hope you're doing good anon! #let me know if you read any of these 👀

[alice-in-wonderart]

Could you do marriage proposal headcanons for the junior quartet (Sizhui, Jingyi, Jin Ling and Zizhen), pretty please?

Oof, I apologise for the wait, dear. This got much longer than anticipated- regardless, I hope you enjoy me clowning the juniors. After all, proposing isn't easy.

Jin Ling

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.

"Why do I have to propose?! Can't she?!"que angry whailing from the Juniors.

No, in all honesty, Jin Ling would be utterly out of it. The moment he realizes he wants to spend his life with you hits him in the face like a brick. And suddenly he doesn't know what to do with himself... So he turns to his friends, who of course, tease him like hell for it.

Ultimately, they help him set up some sort of plan - the plan of taking you out and proposing. The whole idea was for him take a day off from being a sect leader to spend it with you, which turned into an impromptu mini trip to Yunmeng. And so the plan is set in motion.

But nothing ever goes as planned, does it? For the most part - it went okay. He took you around Yunmeng, showing you anything and everything interesting, reminiscing even. But you knew something was off - Jin Ling was jittery, much more unruly and quick to anger than usual.He was blushing like crazy at the simplest of touches. In fact, he was a walking time bomb ready to explode any second. And- it did.

It did, when work found him anyways. Urgent business he had to discuss with his uncle, apparently something which couldn't wait. He wasn't even listening to the logistics of it, his mind was on you - who was going to have to wait for him patiently. Not only that, but because of said work - you'd have to stay longer than expected. (Maybe he should have warned his Jiujiu about his plan, but such smart decision-making doesn't run in the family)

And, you see, usually this wouldn't bother him much, but when he had meticulously *tried* to plan a PROPOSAL, things were very different. So, coming out after a few hours of endless work, he's pissed - at himself, at work, at life...and he yells at you. He yells at you for asking why he's been acting strange all day, frustration falling from his lips like a sinner's confession.

"Strange?! You have no idea what is going on, do you!? No, of course you don't! Ugh. My entire plan got ruined!! This is a disaster!!"

And you'd have to calm him down, that no - nothing was a disaster, you had fun, Yunmeng was lovely, you'd love to stay a bit more. And once again it was proven to him, that there is nobody in the entire world he'd rather spend his days with.

"Okay, look. I know I'm not perfect. I can be rash, hot-tempered, bad-mannered. I'm a sect leader, I'm always busy. And even now, when I tried to make everything perfect for you, it still failed. And here I am, standing in front of you, feeling like an absolute lovestruck moron, like you're my first crush and I just lose my train of thought around you. And-

Goddamn it, I love you, I love you with all of my heart. And I want to show you that everyday. I want to give you everything, I want to give you the world and - I just want to know if- you'dwanttomarryme?"

Lan Sizhui

Sizhui knew very well, that one day he was going to marry you - after all, you were his light, his soulmate. His first love, his world. You stayed with him through thick and thin already, you were his support, his treasure. And he simply couldn't imagine a world without you.

But proposing didn't come as naturally as he'd expected. After having witnessed WangXian in its full potential, having been a part of their wedding, and knowing fully well how it should go down, he still felt a tad too lost and decided to ask for advice.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were very supportive, albeit teasing. Ultimately they were of little help outside of support, suggesting (WWX) all kinds of crazy proposals, from poems, to serenades, to fireworks, wild animals, crazy adventures. Lan Wangji suggested simply asking, which also didn't quite sit right with Sizhui. He was never one for the extravagant show-off performances, but a little more care would never hurt anybody.

Ultimately, he decided to ask you during one of your occasional evening walks around Gusu. He'd told you to wait for him outside a tad later than expected. That of course caught your attention, since Lan Sizhui was never one to break rules, but the little night date was set in motion regardless.

Walking around the back mountain and near the pond with the bunnies, he felt his hands sweat a bit, while waiting for the right moment. He seemed much more distracted than usual, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Soon he found himself kneeling next to you, as you were holding one of the white fluffballs in your hands, lovingly petting it.

"I could stay like this forever" he'd hear fall from your lips. Or perhaps it was something else? He wasn't listening.

"You can..I mean- we can. Just you and me." he'd mumble, gently taking one of your hands in his. He took a deep shaky breath. The bunny jumped off you and he gently caressed the palm of your other hand, before pulling it slightly to his heart. The questioning look you gave him made his heart skip a beat..or two. He smiled warmly at you.

"I..called you out here for a reason actually. I've never actively looked for love, never thought I might find it, yet here you are. And I love you very much, much more than I have the words to express. And you see, everytime I look at you, I can't help but imagine a bright future with you, together, as partners. Even now, my heart beats so fast around you, I fear it might jump right out of my chest. No amount of eloquent poetry or masterfully crafted music can contain everything that I feel for you."

He stopped and moved to kiss your knuckles. "And through it all, we stayed together. You know me better than I know myself. And I know now, that I can't imagine a life without you in it. With all the love and respect I have for you, I'm asking you if you'd like to marry me?"

Lan Jingyi

Let's say your cultivation level isn't the best for the sake of the scenario lol

Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic - Part 2

Oh wow, something scarier than ghosts - commitment love.

Jingyi is lost. He knows he loves you more than anything and he's pretty sure you love him too but- marriage?! He's never had to deal with...that!? Out of desperation, he'd turn to Lan Xichen, who would give him the unhelpful advice of "Follow your heart and see where it leads you." thx m8, rly helpful.

At the end, he'd simply decide to ask you outright. And he was going to propose to you after the upcoming night hunt. He'd imagined it so romantic - him, returning to you, adrenaline-high and sweeping you off your feet with a proposal even the gods would envy.

But then you just HAD to request joining the night hunt. And Lan Xichen had the audacity to agree!

Each time he'd look at you, his heart would skip a beat, his face would flush and he'd forget his own name. It wasn't fair - that you decided to accompany him on his night hunt, since now he had a constant distraction. And of course, he'd complain about it. Not only did he have to look after himself, but now you too? Why was life so cruel?!

And of course, you'd just giggle with your perfect melodic voice and assure him you'd be perfectly fine, and that if something were to happen, you'd be safe and sound next to him. And of course his heart would do a 360 and run an entire marathon. Who needed sanity anyways? Not him, nope.

But night hunts aren't always safe. And that night, resentful energy had seeped much deeper within their hunting grounds than usual, bringing about an army of spirits to roam the dark forests. And when a few decided to sneak-attack, things took a turn for the worst, quicker than expected.

The ambush, of sorts, left you vulnerable, when everybody else ran in all directions, dealing with the spirits at hand. And as much as Jingyi was keeping an eye on you, in the dark of the night, amongst the resentful ghosts, he lost track of you. And panic struck over unlike anytime before. At once his fear of ghosts was utterly deminished and a single thought flooded his mind - where are you?

He stopped in the middle of the battle ground, looking at every direction imaginable. And surely enough - there you were, about to be attacked by a spirit.

And Lan Jingyi saw red. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you, dead set on protecting you until the very end of time. And that he did.

Once the threat was taken care of, he turned to you, no disregard whatsoever about the others around him, and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, asking over and over if you're okay, if you're hurt and if you needed anything.

After having to assure him, that you are in good health, he pulled away from the hug, only to grab you by the shoulders and leave a quick kiss on your lips. Lan be damned, he nearly lost you.

"Forget anything, what if I wasn't there on time?! I just realised how unpredictable this life can be and now how do you expect me to rest peacefully, without you safe by my side? I almost lost you just now! How could I live with myself if that happened? God, this job is so dangerous! We live a life where any second could be our very last and I can't stand that thought! Let me protect you for all eternity and marry me!"

*cue dead silence from half of the Lan clan and a severely amused Wangxian.

Ouyang Zizhen

I call him - a modern day teenager in ancient China, which applies to his idea of marriage as well.

Out of all of the Juniors, he'd be the most set on actually proposing the "right way" - whatever that meant.

To him, a day meant for a proposal was a day meant for spoiling. It was a "show my love I'm ready to do anything for them" day. Was he an absolute nervous wreck? Yes. Was he showing it? ....well. That's arguable. Did you absolutely know something was off with him? Of course. You'd spend enough of your life with Zizhen to know him like your own name.

So, when he came up to you, gingerly asking if you'd like to go downtown for a little walk, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, you knew you were in for a wild ride - after all, that's one of Ouyang Zizhen's many charms - the adventurous spirit. ( ugh, he's such a Sagittarius. Don't @ me, we don't know his bday)

Upon setting foot in the middle of the town, he turned to you and smiled brightly. "Anything you pick today is all yours. Anywhere you want to go, we go. Anything you want to eat - will be given to you." And he meant it.

He didn't expect you to, however, disregard all of that, instead choosing to spend the day with him, simply walking around and talking. Perhaps drinking a cup of tea. And he followed your humble request, of course.

Yet he still wanted to spoil you - from the freshly baked goods further down the street, to some pretty hair ornament he absolutely insisted would look lovely on you. He just wanted to show you how much you meant to him. Alas, he just wasn't sure how.

He proudly strode by your side, hand in hand, despite his bashfulness, loving every minute spent with you. You ran around, enjoying each other's company, listening to the funny gossips, petting all kinds of animals in the streets, all until you got to a street musician. (I swear those have existed back then - I've seen a documentary, but if I'm wrong, do correct me ✌️ )

He ran up to him and whispered something you couldn't hear, then payed him. The musician in question smiled in return to him and changed the song to one you both recognised and loved. Turning to you with the most bashful of smiles, Zizhen spoke in a fairly hushed tone. "And this - this is for you."

Through a painfully big smile, you couldn't help but ask whether you were forgetting an anniversary, or if it was your birthday and you hadn't realised. The slight worry that you had forgotten some important day threw him off immediately and he frantically waved his hands. "Oh no, no, no. You haven't forgotten anything!" Then he grabbed your hand and turned to you fully.

"Today isn't an anniversary, but I was hoping it could be in the future... We've been together through so much and I wanted to repay you for all of the kindness, understanding, and love that you're giving me. And before you argue that repaying isn't an option, let me finish first. Sometimes I lie in bed at night, wondering what I've done to deserve you, what wonderful hero I must have been in a past life to have you here next to me. And then I always hear your beautiful voice in my head, reminding me, that you're here to stay and I just can't believe it. I wanted to make this day special for you, because I love you and I appreciate everything you've done for me. And well..there is one more thing. I've thought long and hard about this and... Well... I can't help but wonder, if you'd want to stay with me until the very end and marry me?"

Thank you for reading~

#wei wuxian #grandmaster of demonic arts #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo dao su zhi #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jin ling #juniors #stan jl #jin rulan #ouyang zizhen #oyzz #the untamed lan sizhui #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #ljg #lsz #lszh #lan juniors #the untamed #mo dao zu shi x reader #Lan x reader #Juniors marriage #lan zhan #Wangxian mention #Wangxian #I FOROGT TO ADD FAIRY #Were street musicians a thing in ancient china #Lol I'm uncultured apparently #Welp

[grapefruitsketches]

Ever Since You’ve Gone Away

My second fill for the Songxiao Reverse Itty Bitty Bang 2020, hosted by @touchmycoat.

Inspired by @StinaKaarina’s beautiful art on twitter at StinaKaarina/status/1305647328234278913 (hyperlink in reblog - just trying to make sure tumblr will show this in the tags lol).

Rated T, 1,865 Words, canon compliant, Songxiao, Grief/Mourning, post-Yi City, Angst

Also available on AO3 (see link in reblog)

Roam this world with Shuanghua. Exorcise evil beings alongside Xingchen.

That had been what he had told Hanguang-jun and Wei-gongzi.

Now all that was left was to do just that.

The extra blade at his back and the two spirit pouches at his waist weighed heavily on him.

He had left that city behind weeks ago. And now he only had the entire world ahead.

The action was familiar.

One step, and then another.

Enough steps brought him from one town to another.

Each town brought him from one day to another.

The days then turned to months which became years.

He could see that journey before him, just the same as the one that lay behind him.

Each journey, before and behind, brought maybes. Different in the ways that maybes differ between a journey to and a journey from. Woulds and hads. Shoulds and shouldn’ts.

Maybe he would apologize right away, shout it aloud without a thought the moment he laid eyes on him again.

Maybe if he had eaten just one more meal on the road instead of sitting down, maybe if he had saved just a few extra moments somewhere in those six long years.

Maybe he should wait, find out where he is staying, and then just be casually sitting in the inn’s dining room the next morning, just within view of the stairs coming down, but he would be facing away, letting Xingchen see him first, and greet him casually, like an old friend, one he was spotted.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so impulsive and instead only approached once the villain had left.

Maybe if he’d just, in all that time, figured out what he wanted to say, maybe then he would have had the chance to say it.

But he never had.

And so, fittingly, it never mattered.

Now, he walked through the world in a state of numbness. It was strange, readjusting to having control over his own body, his own mind. It had been so long, and far too late, before he’d regained it. He touched the spirit pouches at his side, feeling no response. He passively noted the wind on his face, the biting cold as he approached - then steered away from - the places he had known when he was young. Recognized but was unmoved by the smell of the sea. Noticed how one terrain shifted to the next, the clattering of stone to the crunch of dry grass.

He wondered if it was strange that he hadn’t wept yet. It felt almost as though his grief had been so large, so bottled up, for so many years, pinned inside by the spikes in his neck, that it had congealed, hardened, become stuck. There was a part of him that revelled in this. Like a confirmation that this was not his to mourn. The one thought echoing in his head eternally as he set the pouches by the side of whatever inn or makeshift bed he had each night: They might have been alive if you had just left them alone. Or if you had done one thing, any one thing, differently.

--

Xingchen carried with him the weight of many choices. Of many options he’d been offered. He had taken the wrong path every time. Every time but one.

He’d been given the choice to stay with his sect - to continue to cultivate on that lonely peak, a place that kept him safe from the world and the world from him.

He’d chosen to leave.

He’d been given the choice to wander alone, to maintain the sense of distance his Master had so emphasized.

He’d chosen to befriend, grow close to, fall for Zichen.

He’d been given the choice to give up the chase, or if he chose to single-mindedly pursue the murderer, to see it to the end.

He’d chosen to relax too soon, to never give up the chase but still let the man slip from their grasps.

But the one regret he didn’t have, even now living in this small and slowly shrinking city, was when he’d been given the choice to undo what he could, to correct some, even if not all, of the missteps that he’d taken.

He’d given up his eyes and given up his closest companion. Xingchen could not give back the family that his choices had taken from Zichen, but he’d done what he could to right the damage he’d brought.

And this he would never regret.  

--

Song Lan had had plenty of opportunity to think about death. His parents, who had passed when he was a child. His sect taken so brutally from him. But he had never connected the concept of death with him, with Xingchen. So full of life, so eager to explore, to learn, to live. How had Song Lan not seen though? Seen that beneath all that joy, that life, the thing that came first every time, was a willingness to give himself up for the sake of just about anything or anyone else. To fulfill any request, relieve any burden, no matter how small it was, no matter how much it would hurt him. He would give it up easily.

His childhood mountain home.

His eyes.

His friend, his soulmate, his partner who should have been there just as much for him.

All relinquished without fight. Without complaint. Each time it was asked of him, each time he had something to give. To make the world whole even if it meant disassembling himself into spare parts.

And once all that was gone, once he’d given up every element that might have protected him from the villain Song Lan knew, had known, would track his every movement, would take advantage of any weakness, the villain had caught up with Xingchen. Xingchen was told to give up his hope for a better world, that he might be someone who could help bring it into existence. It was the one thing that had driven Xingchen his whole life, and Xingchen was asked to release it. And as he was asked, so he did.

--

Xingchen let himself cry sometimes, let himself feel the losses that he’d sustained. But they always came with a feeling of guilt, then a time of reconsideration, recontextualization, then finally peace.

He’d made his choices, and paid the costs.

He had a small family now, who could never replace the man he had lost, but a family who he cared for all the same. He should be grateful. And so he made it so.

--

The first time Song Lan managed to shed tears was not for his soulmate, but for the other pouch he carried.

He wondered what she might have been like. He remembered her vibrancy, her protectiveness over her Daozhang, from even the brief moments he’d known her. She had been unable to save her Daozhang in the end, however hard she tried, but she had certainly saved Song Lan’s life, and the lives of all the other visitors to Yi City as well.

He was glad that Xingchen had had her, at least. But another part of him chastised himself for not wishing that she had never had the misfortune of falling into this mess.

Though in the end, what did his wishes matter? Even if he had once had the chance to have any positive influence on her or Xingchen’s life, he had long squandered it - throwing it away like it was nothing. In anger. In grief. Not thinking once - not until it was far too late at least - how his words would be received, would reverberate through the rest of his life.

He set her spirit pouch down on the table.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say. But it did not matter that he couldn’t speak the words. She wouldn’t hear them anyway. Where words would not, could not be enough, the tears flowed.

On his better days, he would imagine what Xingchen and a-Qing’s routine might have looked like during those short happy years during which they had lived like family. He never acknowledged any third member to that small household, still recoiling at the mere thought of just how long it had taken that monster to spin his web. Just how delicate the netting had been. Just how easily Song Lan - had he just been there sooner - could have easily swatted it away, before it was too late.

He didn’t think about Xue Yang.

Instead, he pictured Xingchen and a-Qing. How they may have cooked together. The things Xingchen would have tried to teach her - meditation, sword formations, calligraphy. How there were things he would want to teach her. He pictured them playing the old childish hand games that Xingchen had told him all of Baoshan Sanren’s disciples played, that Xingchen had been so excited to teach him. Song Lan almost laughed to himself at the memory before he caught himself. Stopped himself.

He had known her only a short while - at least, only a short while as himself. He didn’t dare to scrutinize his memories as a puppet too closely. But he had liked her, and understood why Xingchen would have taken an instant liking to her as well. She was charming, a bit of an outcast, but plucky and resourceful, never letting whatever her past must have been take her down.

She was a lot like Xingchen in that way, he thought

--

Eleven years ago, Xiao Xingchen walked through a small town. He had been wandering alone for six years and was content with that fact. It was as it should be – it was the way he could do the least harm, bring the least misfortune on others.

But he ran into a child.

She was smart, talented, quick. She could survive on her own and sometimes seemed to prefer it that way, but she had let Xingchen into her life. She offered a rare sort of trust that Xingchen didn’t take lightly. Especially since the last time someone had trusted him that way, he had let him down spectacularly.

But six years had passed since then. Maybe it was time… maybe he could be allowed… to accept another’s trust again?

The child chastised him, questioned his strange habits without ever letting that cast doubt on her affection for him. Tried to make sure no harm fell on him even though his wellbeing was a burden no one else should try to carry.

She was a lot like Zichen in that way, he thought.

--

Song Lan wandered, hoping his roaming would nurture the two spirits. Healing them was the absolute least he could do to start to repay what he had cost them, and what they had given willingly to him.

Song Lan felt so very old. So tired. But despite that, he took one step, and then another. Dealt with one haunting, and then the next. Because he was not old. Because he was still so horribly young. And so he had to keep going, to follow the long road ahead, tackling the ghosts that meant harm, and keeping the ghosts that had meant well by his side. Hoping, maybe, it would mean something, even if it could never be enough.

#sxreverseibb #songxiao #song lan #xiao xingchen #yi city #cql #the untamed #mdzs #my writing

[silverchildqueen]

Chapter ?? - Di mi nombre.

It was the third night in a row she went to Pandemonium club looking for the guy she met a few nights ago while having a drink with Mina. She and her friend made a bet on who would get him, and in the end it was Isabel who did it. But even if it was just a night for fun, she couldn’t take his image out of his mind. She should, he smells like trouble. She pretended to go there to keep an eye because the club is well known across cultivators as a place filled with demoniac activity. It was loud, blue lights illuminating the dance floor, and there were a lot of weird people. But she always went alone, which was against the code of cultivators. In every night hunt you should be with at least one partner, it was a safety code that existed for a reason. But everyone knew she never took the rules too seriously, only when it mattered. And Cordelia, her beloved sister, was sharp enough to realize quickly that it was something else keeping her apart from the institute at night. Before she went out, her sister had at the tip of her tongue the question of where was she going, not because she wanted to control her but because the cases of demoniac activity and poisoning corpses were increasing on a dangerous level, and she was concerned for her safety.  

Isabel couldn’t be described as a romantic person, in fact, she didn’t believed in love in the first place. She was used to one night stands, short flings; not giving her heart away was a rule she established to keep it safe.  To keep her heart safe. Despite all this, and how hard she tried to conceal the reason behind her outings, her sister could tell she was attracted to someone, truly, for the first time in her life. She decided to play dumb to make things easier for her sister, she would talk to her when she felt ready, and for Delia the only thing it mattered it was her happiness. If Isabel was happy, there was no need to know who she is pinning for.

Isabel lifted the glass with a strange drink inside and emptied it within a second, asking for another round at the same time. The barman looked at her half shocked half amused by how many shots she could take without even getting a little bit drunk. Isabel could drink a lot without actually getting drunk, although she wasn’t much of a drinker. She only did it occasionally, but the frustration took her to strange places.

Nothing was stranger than waiting for a man she barely knew to appear out of the blue, just so she can face him again. She still felt his hands roaming on her body, his harsh kisses, and the way he smelled. But even if she still remembered the heat of the moment, Isabel wanted to only see him and know more about him. Julien was a mystery, a mystery she wanted to solve. A puzzle to put back together.

She was about to give up and turn her way back to home, when a voice took her out of her thoughts, shaking the ground under her feet.

“You surely look like you need a drink, or maybe don’t drink at all.” Isabel looked up, finding the man who owned the voice. It was the same man she and Mina met, the same man she made a bet about, that ended up with her tangled in between his legs. She pressed her lips together trying very hard to restrain any sound.

“It’s you.” She said, without moving from her seat.

“The one and only.” Julien said with a smirk. “You are by yourself, I presume”

“So what? Is it wrong for a woman to be drinking on her own?” She asked, eyebrow raised, and there was a sharp coldness in her tone.

“Not at all, what is wrong is for women to be afraid of doing it, because men are disgusting pricks.” Julien simply said, taking the seat by her side. He asked for a drink; whiskey, neat.

Isabel stared at him with curiosity, what he said it wasn’t expected. “It only happens because men think they have some kind of right over a woman’s body and decision. None of you have any rights on female bodies. But it is the culture that feeds on that thought.”

“It truly makes you mad.”

“It would make you feel the same if it was you in the place of a female.” Isabel drank the last inside of her glass.

“You should eat something” He said, and before she was able to answer, he ordered something from him and looked at her so she could take her order. She laughed, shocked by his forwardness.  

 They talked for hours, laughed in the middle in multiple times, flirted even more. Isabel wasn’t sure how much time she spent on a table with this man she barely knew, but it felt like only minutes. She realized she wouldn’t mind to repeat this one more time, the thought made her shiver in fear. Fear for a feeling she couldn’t really understand. You cannot understand what you never felt. It was him who told her to leave, because it was really late, and she felt a little disappointed to be thrown away. But of course, she didn’t show it, Isabel would never show such a dangerous emotion to a person.  It requires a lot of trust to show some kind of vulnerability. In her line of job, weakness and emotions aren’t allowed. You live with your feet on the ground, no emotions or illusions clouding the senses.

Dreams are a dangerous things, and so is love.    

“Well, this is it then.” Isabel said when they were outside the club, she zipped her jacket and was about to leave when a hand stopped her, holding her by her wrist firmly.

“Or you can stay the night with me.” He suggested, and the little smile painted on his face was devilish. It could make anyone go down on their knees, weakening the strongest. Oh, but she will make him go down on his knees as well.  

“Are you growing on me, Julien?” She asked, amused, but with confident steps she walked his way.

(cut scene)

Her back hit the front door in the moment they entered his apartment, and his body was towering her without losing time. Lips crushing on lips with violence and want. A want that can consume the whole world, it was like fire burning down a forest. A tragedy, when you fear the fire.

Isabel Crowthorne isn’t afraid of being burned, she had been burnt before in her own fire and she can take the heat.

Julien removed her leather jacket slowly, his hands dancing around her tight black dress as he let the jacket fall to the floor. When she was free from it, Isabel placed both of her hands in his shoulders and in a precise jump she wrapping her own legs around him; while she returned the kiss outrushed, and her tongue fought for dominance. She moaned in his mouth when Julien pressed her body against his. His own bulge finding her center.

“That’s right, moan for me.” He whispered with a rough voice, before biting her lower lip with his teeth, pulling a little bit, a little bit of blood came from it. He licked the trace of crimson.  

Julien unzipped the dress from her back, in a slow torturous pace, while he kept devouring her mouth. He was kissing her like his life depended on it, as if he would die without touching her. Isabel felt his fire consume her, as if she was the one to strike the match. He abandoned her mouth to keep track of her skin with his lips and tongue, descending from her face until he reached her neck. He traced a path from her neck to her shoulder, alternating kisses and tongue.  When the sinful dress fell to the floor, living Isabel almost naked -apart from her underwear- he sinked his teeth on the skin of her shoulder, biting her until it left a mark. Not a mark of possession, not really, it was more about passion. About how he knew what she wanted, what she needed of him. Julien only spent with her one night, but he already knew what she wanted. Like he was made to pleasure her. It felt as if this woman was able to get under his skin, and intoxicate his selfish mind.

After touching and kissing her upper body, he took her by the hand and threw her on his bed, staring at her from the end of the bed with a hunger she was used, but never really enjoyed, or truly felt herself. She was about to say something clever, because he kept staring instead of doing something, but she had to swallow her remark when the weight of his body was over hers, trapping her in between the bed and himself.

“You have too many clothes.” Isabel told him as she tried to unbutton the shirt of his very formal suit. A man of business, he seemed to be. But there was more than what was caught by the eye. She was only half way through his shirt, when she felt strong hands stopped her, apprehending his hands over her head. He used his own tie, to bind her hands to the bed. He used the opportunity to sit above her, without pressing too much weight, and he started to take his clothes off slowly. His eyes fixed on her own dark stare, as he got rid of every piece of clothing. Isabel bitted her own lips, watching him atop of her, she tried to undo the knot made by his tie, but it was well done and she couldn’t do it. Or, more accurate, she did not really tried with all her strength.

Isabel contained a moan from coming in between her lips, when Julien settled in between her legs, kissing her inner tights until reaching the space in between. She threw her head back as she moaned loudly when she felt his tongue find her core, raising her back and hips to collide with his own body, grinding against his mouth to feel more. With his tongue he found his clit and started to tease her, as his fingers feasted on her wetness. He kept alternating between his tongue and fingers, looking up to see her face as she came undone. When he did, he made sure to drink on her as if she was the finest of wines.

“Take me.” She demanded with her hands free of strings now, bringing him up to kiss him eagerly, feeling her own taste against her tongue.  She craved her red fingernails against his muscled arm that would probably leave a mark.

He grinned against her mouth, and with one hand he found his own member, teasing her entrance with the tip. He enjoyed torturing her, making her go mad by want and desire. But she would have none of that, she was not a person to lay still and let a man control her every reaction. No, she wanted something and she was going to take it. Before he could react, she turned the tables around, pushing him against the mattress to be on top of him. Isabel covered him with her exuberant body, and she took his cock in her hand penetrating herself. She closed her eyes and moan when she felt him inside of her. Julien grabbed her by her hips, grunting as he started thrusting against her, trying to control the rhythm. But she wouldn’t let him, she blocked his intentions by holding him down, her hands pressing his wrist against the bed. They kept staring at each other, bodies rubbing against each other. He tried very hard to control his own groans and moans, but it was harder to achieve when she was moving above him.

“Di mi nombre.” She said the words in Spanish, she wasn’t sure if he could understand. But every time she was deep in her emotions, Isabel let her mother’s language to slip.

Julien slithered his hands from her grasp, and he sat holding her head, entangling his fingers in her long dark hair. He looked at her as is she was a goddess, a sight to behold. He took her mouth one more time, in between gasps and thrusts, his tongue sliding in between her lips.

“Di mi nombre.” She said again, more demanding this time, they hugged each other as she kept thrusting, a rough compass. Isabel moaned against his lips, dodging his kisses until he let her name slip his tongue.

Julien knew he was close, but he tried to hold it to finish with her, he didn’t wanted to finish until she came in his arms. He wanted to hear her scream as they came undone together. He turned her against the bed, laying atop of her, plunging his teeth in her shoulders, biting hard because she could take it.

“Isabel!” He screamed her name when he came with her, deep inside of her.

They stayed in this position for a moment trying to catch their breath, with his member still inside of her, their lips sealed in an innocent kiss.

#ff: the memory of whiteness #tmow #tmow: julien #tmow: isabel #oc: isabel chrowthorne #ship: julien x isabel

[unkorene]

Aftermath

I just kinda let my brain do their thing tbh, enjoy hahaha

It hurt. A lot more than he expected it to be.

It wasn't entirely his fault for all this mess, to be fair. His entire existence as the Yiling Patriarch was reduced to being just the catalyst for a great scheme caused by the great Sect Leader Jin Guangyao, so someone could say that he was just a poor not-so-innocent bystander who got brought back to life because of his status. He had absolutely nothing to do with whatever the hell is happening.

Having something wrapped around your neck? Not fun. Having another wound somewhere around your torso? Not fun times two. Getting your friend/cultivation partner/whatever the hell their actual relationship status is to seal their own spiritual power because at your one moment of carelessness someone attacked you? Not fun times three.

All Wei Wuxian wanted is some Emperor Smile, is that seriously hard to understand?

It was a very unsportsmanlike for Jin Guangyao to pull that move, Wei Wuxian almost congratulated him for it. Also threatening his nephew isn't a good idea when a lurking Jiang Wanyin is around, to be honest.

Helplessly, he watched Lan Zhan seal his powers, becoming as weak as a normal non-cultivator should be. This isn't how things should go, his mind scream at him. This isn't the Second Young Master Lan he knew from so long ago. What changed that he would also sacrifice his own safety for someone as corrupt as himself? He almost forgot that he was still being held hostage for a moment until the string around his neck tightened, nearly making his choke on his spit.

Then things went to shit.

Suddenly Nie Huaisang apparently with his "scared" attitude and the face that always said "I don't really know," as well as the infamous Sandu Shengshou who literally rammed through the door of the temple, which somehow led them both getting their asses kicked (which was no surprise since Nie Huaisang didn’t even give much of a fight, but Jin Guangyao using his own shidi’s inferiority complex against him? That’s harsh).

After that happened, Jin Guangyao suddenly launched into the cliche “villain reveals sad backstory and why he is doing this” moment which almost made Wei Wuxian choke on his laugh.

Seriously, why can't he be drunk right now? Someone hand over some Emperor Smile, this lowly one can't take anymore of this. Hunting for pheasants sound even more enjoyable than sitting through this sad backstory.

The more he thought about it, the more his brain started to hurt. This isn’t what he wanted when he first came back to life, you know?! He never asked to be brought back to life by the poor Mo kid! Also he had nothing to do with any of the fierce corpses that keep spawning everywhere so you can keep all your accusations to yourself!

It’s quite tiring to scream at the face of your enemies without screaming at their face. It was also very tiring to stay awake when your life is being threatened for the umpteenth time in your second chance of living.

Oh, god. Now their all fighting again? Can he just fade into the background like what his friend is doing right now? Is that really so hard to grant? Things happened quickly, not that his memory could ever serve him right. He has a weird sense of pride for his lack of good memory when it came to these kind of events.

Slowly, things started to go back to normal in the cultivational world. The death of Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue brought Lan Xichen great sorrow which made the poor man go into seclusion (his choice of friends weren’t as great as their appeared to be, Wei Wuxian thought) and he also figured out the true mastermind who orchestrated this big charade was none other than their friend (“I don’t know, I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”)

Jiang Cheng and he… both of them still haven’t seen each other eye to eye, but the man did give back Suibian as well as Chenqing which gave the impression than the man really does care about him after all (beyond all that layers of anger, grief, fear, etc.). It’s a slow start.  Though the man also seemed quite bitter that he couldn’t get to be the Chief Cultivator…

Speaking of which…

“Lan Zhan!”

“Mn.”

“I wouldn’t ever expect you to step up as the next Chief Cultivator! Haha, you really do follow wherever chaos is!”

“... Mn.”

“Aiya, don’t be sad! I promise to visit you sometimes if I get to pass by Gusu in my travels. I still want to roam the world like my parents did…”

“...”

He smiled as he turned to his friend. “You’re really great, I like you!”

“...!”

“Or in other words, I fancy you. I love you. I want you. I can’t leave you. I whatever you. I want to night-hunt with you for the rest of my life!”

The face Lan Wangji made was as blank as a sheet of paper but the way his blush slowly crawled up his neck and ears on their way to his cheeks made Wei Wuxian’s heart flutter.

“That’s all I want to say!!”

“Wai-”

But Wei Wuxian already left, the sounds of the dizi playing Wangxian still fluttered in the air. A small smile graced itself upon Lan Zhan’s face.

Until next time then.

#wangxian #modao zushi #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wei ying #lan zhan #wei wu xian #lan wang ji

[oceaniapassport-blog]

The Many Women of Many Indias.

Exploring India as a female solo. A cautionary tale that invites challenges, sacrifices and serious balls!

Abroad Alone

All zipped up and strapped in, I feel the weight of my 19kg backpack sitting neatly on my hips as I await the long journey to Delhi ahead of me. With my mum unconvinced by my detailed itinerary and multiple friends’ raised eyebrows, I board my flight to uncover the diverse and ever evolving many places and spaces of India.

A journey through India is impossible to summarise. My first destination of many being New Delhi; home to over 21.7 million people and taking first place as the worst city to be a woman. With zero expectations but my prior research, I quickly came to learn the larger differences between city-bred foreign girl and local Indian women of the same age. Lost in a sea of chaotic crowds, I am quickly collected by a unimpressionable docile woman who I soon become passenger to en-route to my accommodation. ‘Taxi’s for women by women’. My first encounter of India’s efforts to make their country a safer, more secure and inviting places for female travellers. Unsurprisingly, I was immediately put to ease, however my curiosity to engage with local women invited a conversation I will never forget. Nega is a woman who drives women to their destination everyday. She is one of the rare few who now no longer fears leaving the house with her employment giving her a newfound sense of independence.

Curtseying through a heated traffic jam, Nega told of her previous experience with India’s transport services which are said to favour female safety with train compartments reserved specifically for female passengers. That apart, she relented that a woman can never fully relax on the roads, buses or trains once out of the house. With an average of 91 rape victims per day, it is no surprise “vigilance, precautions and always looking out for unwanted attention is a normal part of everyday life here in India”. Nega’s words didn’t simply apply to local women; they would be a mantra I followed closely throughout the course of my adventure.

Solo Woman Shelter

A solo exploration is nothing without unexpected chance conversation. At a stand still trying to contemplate how one crosses the heavily populated streets in front of me, I am inundated with the smell of burnt buttered chapati bread as stale oils glaze the gravel ridden road and the deafening sound of horns form a blur. Perspiring from my cracked upper lip, I can’t help but grapple with the uneasy feeling that I should be inside, away from the hustle, hassle and exhausting unknown that awaits me. How? In a country that prices itself so heavily on being the world’s largest democracy does a white woman become the primary subject of attention over holy temples, monuments and ancient artefacts that grace this place. Seeking shelter, I wound up a local cafe called ‘Sheroes Hangout’, Agra. With a ‘pay at your will’ model, this easily hidden nook stands for a great deal more than the flavourful okra, dahl and roti bread it plates up.

The women who served me have all fought a battle of survival after a life changing alteration to their appearance. Acid attack survival is only the beginning of the larger social and societal change these women are determined to cultivate. With it’s sole purpose to empower acid attack victims; the courage, intelligence and resilience of these women is nothing short of an inspiration. By now, I have come to learn the value of female community and employment opportunity that this organisation has managed to manifest. “Previously I was sifting wheat crop in a field and I was ostracised to the outskirts of my hometown because of my appearance.” As I nurse my rotund stomach into a state of indigestion, I muse on the very real fact that large parts of India remain predominately patriarchal and yet despite the indescribable battle these women have already fought, they continue to fight a larger war. This war being one that is facilitating a slow but steady mindset shift for gender equality and acceptance in India. I am immensely proud in this moment to be a female.

Lost and found: Intelligence

Like a deer in the headlights, I watch the dirty ceiling fan make a slow and swooping cycle as it shifts the already unrelenting hot air around my room. Now in Tordi Garg, a small village, 3 and little hours from Jaipur, away from the golden triangle of illustrious sights, I experience what it really feels to live local in India. With an obligatory cast system etiquette and a population where most live below the poverty line, I am greeted with welcoming waves, smiles and conversation as I begin to tackle the uneven alleyways before me. Soaking in my surroundings, I admire the innovative drainage system operations while grey pigeons circulate the streets in search of left over grains fed to ever wandering cow that roams. It is next to said cow, that I meet Dabu, a wide cheeked and exuberantly energetic boy, backpack in hand on his morning walk to school. Dabu was proud to talk on the Indian school system in his town and the active assistance his government provides.

No older than seven, Dabu told me life as a boy at school is fairly fun, “in my class, we have the same number of girls and boys, the government makes sure both girls and boys come and learn.” I proceeded to learn that the Indian government takes little more seriously than a good education to all it’s citizens. With laws that ensure a school is located within 5km from every Indian rural village and that those living below the poverty line have access to transport and culinary services whilst to and fro from school, I am pleasantly surprised to learn the value of education in India regardless of ones gender or financial position. With a school system governed on performance over age, it is no surprise that India forms some of the most intelligent, innovative and disciplined individuals both on a national and International scale. “We are incentivised with a bike we can ride to school if we perform well in class, so the girls are often very competitive with the boys, it’s very fun!”

While I struggled to understand where the shift in equal employment opportunity begins as adults, I remain impressed by India’s ‘work from the ground up’ approach, teaching boys and girls the value of education from an early age; irrespective if that education leads to work in local trade or international business. Like many visitors to the villages of India before me, I am in awe of the simple way of life that make up the maze of streets in Tordi, and I choose to remain hopeful that with a respectable education structure, simple towns such as Tordi, will continue to foster smart and stronger women who will continue to fight for their right to employment they have equally earned.

One night, One club

As my tuck tuck rolls up to what resembles a cave fit for a pack of lions, I observe the baron night scape that surrounds and momentarily question what I’ve gotten myself into and how in the world I will ever get home. With free entry and drinks all night, not surprisingly I already have my hesitations when it comes to the sanctity of the establishment for females. Oh how wrong I was! While the human size fan that circles the ceiling creates unintentional vibrations below my feet and deafening EDM music fills the room, I quickly seek solace outside at the bar and subsequently wind up in conversation with the owner of the club. A confident and outspoken she-man herself, I quickly learnt her focus in opening her own club. “My passion was to create a safe and equally fun clubbing environment for females.” With rules such as: No men allowed in the facility without the accompaniment of their girlfriend or partner and further single men entry age restrictions, “the number of inappropriate incidents has drastically reduced.” “I saw so many women leaving the clubs crying or uncomfortable from their time; it should be fun y’know, happy and relaxed, yes, that’s my goal.”

With enough room to perform my uncoordinated attempt at dancing and not one unwanted call of attention or further action, my guard dropped and it was a female free for all; with some truely lifelong friends made. One of the most liberating experiences as a female, I couldn’t but make comparison to other parts of the world. Of course, in no way am I saying that my clubbing experience was exclusive to the entirety of India, that would simply be false. However, it did give me a glimpse of hope that such places are popping up to pave the way forward for women in India, both as a local and visitor. This unique and bizarre experience is something I take with me home and should be shared in an effort to establish a new normal towards Indian expectations for future travellers.

Indian is hard. It is not an easy place to live, commute, or visit. India is enthralling, overwhelming. Never will you feel so many different emotions in one day. From amazement, to exasperation, to satisfaction, to frustration, it is a complex beast. If you’re going to go, which you absolutely should, my recommendation is simply to do your research. Nothing about Indian travel is easy. It is a cluster of mixed emotions, experiences and if you know what to expect and you are looking to throw yourself into a completely different way of life, then this is the place for you. Don’t expect it to be fun, because that is simply not a term you can use for the many cities and villages of India. However, do expect the most colourful, historically inviting, challenging and rewarding experience of a lifetime.

#travel #photography #travelarticles

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 6: Breeze

(honestly, who else could be “breeze” but XXC?)

Part of my Songxiao post-canon fix-it fic series (this is the “XXC Prequel”):

SL Prequel | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Also available AO3: link

2,883 Words

Songxiao, Xiao Xingchen Centric, hurt/comfort; Post Yi City Arc, I don’t care how XXC survives/is revived, I just know he does/is. 

-

“Say something. Say something. Can’t you say something?” the wind had shifted, the dead stayed silent, and he felt himself shatter, leaving only frozen shards of the disgusting joke he’d turned out to be.

--

--

--

He was moving. More intriguing, though, was that he was. But what was he exactly? He remembered being whole, but this was not that. Whole was light, sounds, smells, taste, touch. Whole could even be without some of those sensations, but he didn’t know what to make of being without any of them.

Yet he knew he was moving, so he knew he was something.

He drifted, musing that this must be what it was like to be like leaves on the breeze. No… not leaves… something else in the breeze. He was… he was…

A memory of cold light piercing the dark, creating dancing shadows through the branches swaying in the breeze. He reached and melded with the answer, which had been floating next to, and now was once again part of, him.

The Moon in the Breeze.

That had been him. But that couldn’t be true now. The breeze couldn’t be moved. The breeze was the one that moved. And certainly his movement right now was not of his own doing. The air around him compressed and he became aware of walls around him which were now contracting, squeezed by some force larger and outside of the world he now occupied.

Zichen.

He felt a rush at that name - he did not have to reach as answers to questions he had forgotten rushed to him from all around. He - whatever he was - grew as the pieces merged together. How could he have forgotten the Gentry despite the Frost?

Zichen had been his first guide in a world totally unfamiliar to him. He had known from their first meeting that he could always count on Song Lan to follow him, wherever the breeze might take him, without that promise ever having to be said aloud. Xiao Xingchen - for with Zichen’s name had come his own - had been able follow trails to any number of disasters, and Zichen would always be close behind him. Xingchen had been prepared to roam the world alone ever since the day he gave his farewells to the mountains he had grown up in, but Zichen had made sure he always had someone by his side.

So it was no surprise, then, that Zichen would be the one sheltering his growing awareness.

He was content. Existing only in the warmth and knowledge that Zichen was by his side, protecting him.

But this contentment wavered. There was something else in here. Something else that, like the other pieces he had merged with, was him. But this other-something was not warm. It was not light. He wanted to retreat from it, hide, remain in this safe bubble he had formed for himself, under Zichen’s protection. But even as the instinct to hide grew, so it became apparent that this was impossible. The darkness drew close, vibrating dangerously, electric, reaching to rejoin the spirit it belonged to. This too, was a part of him. And resistance was only temporary denial.

He let it in.

A shock, like the feeling of removing a slipper to expose the frostbitten foot hiding beneath to the open air.

You couldn’t do anything. You’ve failed miserably. You’re the only one to blame. You asked for all of this!

He felt himself flicker, and it was all he could do to prevent his fragile light of awareness from falling apart once more as his darkness joined the light.

He remembered that the voice was right about him before he had even remembered who the voice belonged to. Its dangerous vibration was now part of him and he trembled violently, almost missing that the movement of the spirit bag - for he now understood where he must be - moved him up, no longer merely the light jostling that came with Zichen’s gait. His trembling softened. Something occurred to him, despite Xue Yang’s echoing voice. Zichen was still alive? Perhaps his failure had destroyed less than he had imagined? But then… why had Fuxue attacked him? The feel of the cold metal, the engraved characters in the sword, were clear in his memory.

He was confused, but a tightening pressure on the spirit bag felt somehow reassuring. Was Zichen… hugging him?

He wanted to sob, he wanted to yell, he wanted, above all, to return Zichen’s embrace. But here he was - useless, trapped in this dispersed form and only grateful that the mercy he was subjected to was of someone who would never hurt him.

But how?

It had been Fuxue that had tried to attack him, before he had let his own Shuanghua finish the job. Zichen would never do that to him, so he had known that his cultivation partner must have been under Xue Yang’s control. And then, Xue Yang had all but told him that he had killed Zichen himself. No matter how hard he tried to break off the part of himself that remembered, Xingchen knew that he had driven Shanghua through the silent form of the one he tried to protect above all, before casually greeting the foe he had thought was a friend. He had soon found out that the silent form had not been a corpse at all. At least, not until Xingchen had intervened.

The pressure placed by the hands on the bag increased. This was… not even forgiveness but…concern? Love? Despite everything, Zichen didn’t even blame him? But… Xiaochen had been everything Xue Yang had accused him of - a stupid, naïve, dumb idiot. He had killed innocents. He should have stayed on the mountain, as his Master had urged. The only one who had deserved Shuanghua’s blade had been himself, and yet… here Zichen still was. Why?

You were trying to do the right thing.

A voice came from another fragment of himself as it joined his core. The voice was Baoshan Sanren’s. He was 8 and he had brought her a baby bird that had fallen from a tree. He had been in the middle of asking her what he should do to help heal it, when it had died in his hands. His Master had sat him down and gently explained that it had died of shock, that it might have been ok if it had been left alone. She explained that once the bird had met the world outside the nest, it couldn’t truly return to its home. Master Baoshan had told him hat sometimes, the best thing we could do was to stand aside, to let nature take its course. Perhaps the bird’s mother would have come back, perhaps not. But, she had said, he should not feel too bad - even though he now held the dead bird’s body in his hands - he had been trying to do the right thing, after all.

He remembered the baby bird. Its shivering form, the odd angle of its wing, its panicked look as it searched for the edges of the nest that were its sole context for the world. Its final shudder, and its sudden stillness.

His Master’s pitying but resigned look had been echoed when, years later, he had decided that he should take the lessons he had learned from her and try to help heal the world with them.

Baoshan Sanren had taken a sip from her tea, the bitter scent one that he had never smelled again once he had left the mountain, and told him that he could not expect hijs actions to heal the world. That there were some things that were best left alone and others that, no matter how he intervened, would stubbornly persist in the damage they caused. He had known of the fights between clans, of the needless bloodshed of innocents that these disputes had caused. He had thought that if he stayed out of it, he could avoid the tragedies that Baoshan Sanren, in her relationship with Lan Yi, or Cangse Sanren, in her relationship with Wei Changze (and by extension, the Jiang clan) had experienced. He had vowed to remain independent.

He had caused the massacre of Baixue Temple anyway.

You were trying to do the right thing.

Of course he knew that - he had pursued Xue Yang, who had, in the absence of clan politics, taken it upon himself to exterminate various minor clans. He had seen the bodies, the remains of whole cities, the families, the children! He had tried to end it. He had only tried to end the murders. Did that relieve him of responsibility for the lives lost in Yi City by his own hand? He must have spoken to some of them - asked for directions, for a good price on potatoes. They had been innocent. His sword, the one he had sworn to use only to do save the world, had ended their innocent lives.

But what was the cause?

He was 10. He had found, hidden behind a panel in the library, a scroll, It had looked like a diary. It outlined a theory on the use of talismans to subdue demons. This was not what had drawn his attention though. Instead, it had been the notes scrawled in the corners, seemingly unrelated to the scroll’s general premise, musing about the relationship between the cultivator and the outcome for the souls they sought to soothe. The comments wondered whether it was the cultivator’s job to put the spirit to rest, whether it was only their job to try to put the spirit to rest, or whether it was merely their job to try and return peace to whatever environment the spirit was aggravating at the time, regardless of the outcome for the spirit itself? What was the original cause of the disruption? The scribbles had underlined this final line several times.

The scroll had been signed Cangse Sanren. Xingchen had wondered why she had cared so much - didn’t it matter just as much if you played a role in disaster as if you had started it? Either way, you could have stopped it.

Only if you knew that was what you were doing.

This voice… it didn’t have a specific source that he could recall. It seemed, instead, to be coming from within. He paused on this thought. What had he known?

He thought back.

He had known that he belonged by Song Lan’s side. He had known that it was his place at Zichen’s side that had led to the massacre at Baixue Temple. He had known that his continued presence by Zichen’s side could only hurt them both, that all he could do to repay Zichen for the harm that he had caused was to give Song Lan his eyes back. He knew that blindness was hardly even a loss compared to what Zichen must have felt, coming back to Baixue Temple to the carefully and conspicuously organized bodies of the people he had grown up with.

Xingchen had also known that he was helping A-Qing - that the two of them would work better as a pair than they could alone. He had known that the man they had found on the banks of the river had needed their help, that he couldn’t survive without them. He understood that this man had suffered, that everyone deserved some kindness, some gentle treatment in their lives. That providing some candy was a small gesture that would mean a lot to this person. He had known - or thought he had known - that Zichen would be better without him. He believed that the best Xingchen could do for this Song Lan, who had shown him so much compassion, only to be repaid in so much tragedy, was to pay his kindness forward, to provide for those who had no one they could rely on.

He had known all this, had acted based on it. So… he felt the bag clench again from outside forces and realized that he had once again become agitated. He leaned into the pressure. Did he truly deserve to suffer when he had been acting only to bring more kindness to the world? What, as Cangse Sanren had asked, had been the cause?

Xiao Xingchen had never been one to deny responsibility. In fact, his reputation in the cultivation world revealed the opposite: he was one who would accept responsibility even where there was little if any connection to his actions. And yet, he was still a man of reason. From here, feeling the affection coming through the gentle touch of Zichen’s hands on the spirit bag, and reflecting on the events leading to the massacre in Yi City, he could not find his misstep. He could not identify a moment where he could have done differently. The man who had set him on the course of bringing tragedy to the City had done so by preying on Xingchen’s drive to save the world, not some secret need to destroy it.

The darkness, that had seemed so huge, so all-encompassing, as it had joined his form, seemed to shrink, made small through the combination of the affection flowing from the pressure on the spirit bag with the growing strength of the light of the essence that made up most of his spirit. It still hurt, it no doubt always would. But it hurt like a bad memory, like a nostalgia for a time before one knew of the bad things in the world. It no longer felt sharp, was no longer a pang of guilt and self-hatred, a feeling that but for him, the world would be a better place.

If he could forgive Xue Yang, one who had committed murders on purpose, as a victim of circumstance, could he not afford himself at least a fraction of the same courtesy? Leaning into the hand he knew was at the walls of the spirit bag, he felt that maybe he could.

--

It took some time. He could not speak, he could not do much but make himself brighter, or expand slightly. He hoped, he prayed, that Zichen might notice. Eventually, he was able to expand himself to reach every corner of the bag he occupied, to push against the edges of the space he occupied, to brighten, to flicker. He was rewarded for his efforts. He heard a grunt of surprise, then excitement. He understood that the bag had been hugged close to a chest. He heard a whoosh, and understood that he and Zichen were in the air, flying, urgently, somewhere.

There were voices - not Zichen’s, which Xiao Xingchen had not heard since that terrible day at Baixue Temple - but others… was that Wei Wuxian? What had been the cause, that boy’s mother had once asked. Wasn’t Wei Wuxian dead? What did Xingchen know? He was so disconnected from the world. All he knew was that sadness turned to cruelty. Xiao Xingchen had concluded that this had been the cause of his own situation, but he suspected that this might explain many other tragedies. He had resolved himself to avoid this treacherous path, of assuming the worst in others. It could only cause further harm. Perhaps there had been more to Wei Wuxian’s story?

“Good luck.” This was the voice of Lan Wangji, recognizable as a voice Xiao Xingchen had only heard when it had something important to say. What was Zichen up to?

Xiao Xingchen didn’t dare to hope - it was enough to exist by Zichen’s side, was it not? To know he was ok, that he was living the legacies of Xiao Xingchen’s mountain home and Baixue Temple in his own way. But still… Xingchen could not deny it would be nice to feel Zichen’s touch yet again, to ask and know that he let himself feel happy sometimes.

The bag opened, and for the first time in a long time, XIngchen felt himself move along the path of a breeze, along a path of least resistance, to a familiar home inside a form he thought was lost to him forever.

He let out a breath. A true and pure breath of clean air. He had rediscovered the use of fingers, had started rotating his wrists when a weight fell across his now rising and falling chest.

“Zichen” he breathed, happy that that could be the first word to pass his lips after all this time. He felt warmth on his cheeks as the tears he could not cry as he had lingered in the spirit bag were unleashed all at once. He regained feeling in an arm and moved it to embrace, as he had longed to do for so long, the shaking figure draped over him. “Zichen” he repeated, feeling both disbelief and a profound understanding that there was nowhere else he should be right now.

There was much they had to figure out - apologies that would flow both ways, new obstacles they would have to overcome. But for now, Xingchen thought as he held his Zichen’s sobbing shape close to him for the first time in over two decades, this would be enough.

--

I have ideas for a companion Song Lan piece (probably day 18?) and possibly a joint XXC/SL piece later this month! Let me know if you’re interested, I’ll post them here and on AO3 (same username) :)

#untamed spring fest #the untamed #mdzs #songxiao #xiao xingchen #song lan #apparently I had a lot of songxiao feelings #my writing #songxiao fix it series