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little-meowyao · 4 months

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Sending this ask so u feel more tempted

You evil /j

Watch me turn this into angst, hm? I can do that. I can turn everything into angst. I'm the Lady of Angst

Imagine this: MY gets put up against some random Wen! He wins on account of strategy and agility, rather than brute force. The Nie are proud and stuff, but WRH, isn't of being mad, becomes very intrigued about MY.

He starts thinking about how he can very much hurt NMJ if he happens to take MY for himself, and how MY can be an asset as a hostage

(See: my whumptober fic that you resd, if I'm not mistaken)

So he does! He kidnaps MY from his bed in Unclean Realm and locks him up somewhere in Nightless City. WRH' soldiers go onto MY but MY kills them with his bare hands. Which interests WRH beyond "I can use this to hurt NMJ"

And we end up with a situation similiar to canon! Except this time, MY isn't undercover; he has no contact with the outside. He also hasn't commit the crime that got him kicked out of Qinghe— he is doing whatever WRH asks, because he wants to survive. But WRH ends up genuinely liking him. And MY ends up liking him back on account of daddy issues Older Man Gives Praise factor. And he feels horribly guilty about it

Cue, during sunshot, a far more whumpy reunital with NMJ. NMj who is shell shocked. NMJ who's been worrying about MY for years and then sees him by the side of the man who killed his father. NMJ who thought MY was getting tortured but turns out he isn't.

MY who feels horribly guilty. MY who hates to break NMJ's trust. MY who's become almost two separate people on account of compartmentalization: Wen Yao and Nie Yao. (So to speak)

Meng Yao who got legitimised (or made furen for that matter), and doesn't want to give that up. MY who's more attatched to WRH than he ever was to NMJ, on account of WRH's open praise that is also tactful (unlike NMJ's scolding which brought him more trouble) and on account of WRH being significantly older. On account of WRH gutting anyone that tries to hurt him.

And now MY is caugh up in a weird web of relationships where he doesn't want to hurt NMJ and is trying to avoid doing that, who still loves NMJ, but he also doesn't want to disappoint WRH.

MY trying to juggle the two men.

Hihihi

I'm sure I can fit some dead dove in here too if I try hard enough also

#you had that coming my villanous friend #feral little meowyao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #sadistic tyrant daddy #wen ruohan #tragic saber man #what were yoy expecting honestly #i'm the Angst Person #hey i have an idea #send me the fluffiest #happiest #most feel good prompt #and see if i can make it sad #that'd be fun

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mostlikelytofangirl · 6 months

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Oh he looks so good pretty man look at him

Asdfghjkdfghj

HE'S THE LITERAL DEFINITION OF DILF JESUS CHRIST

This old man has NO RIGHT to be this FIIIIIIINE

Aaaaaahhhhhhh why he so pretty 😩

#replies #mdzs #wen ruohan #daddy can step on me!

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scarefox · 1 year

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this is so funny, the awkwardness 😂

#almost as good as calling your bf daddy infront of your actual dad #Moonlight Chicken #ep3 #jim x wen

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dyrewrites · 5 months

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Proud Tag Game

Tagged by @autumnalwalker, thank you for this!

Rules: Post a snippet you've written that you're proud of and tag 5 people. This snippet can be from today, last week, last month, or five years ago, it doesn't matter! Show us what you're proud of.

I'm tagging: @starbuds-and-rosedust @sparrow-orion-writes @tryingtimi @pb-dot @deanwax and anyone else who wants to join!

Mine is exceedingly long, and I can't quite explain why I'm proud of it...but I am. It is my favorite part of a larger scene. It's from Weald and Wen and takes place about twelve chapters in, shortly after two of the main characters meet the third and are resting in his home -- after saving him from himself.

Faerai has just woken from fainting, after experiencing a harrowing memory not her own, and after everyone's mostly calmed down -- and Mitra has begun sleepily munching her crystal treats -- her stomach draws her attention to the rucksack that is not where it should be.

~ * ~

“I placed your belongings in the dining area,” Delgrij offered and added, “No, allow me,” as Faerai made to leave the shelf.

As he stood and stepped from Infae's side, the nuru trilled, clicked and hopped up to pad giant feet after him. They headed to, and down, a stairwell in the back of the room before Delgrij’s head bobbed out of sight and Infae dove after him, through a much wider opening beside the stairwell. The tap-tap of the thick heeled caps on Delgrij's roots faded shortly after and Faerai retraced his path, her eyes studying her surroundings.

All was red-lit, but dim and dyed purple in places by the pale blue glow spilling in from a large window set in the wall behind her. Assuming, by that color, that latelight had yet to pass, Faerai shrank as worries of her father and home threatened her eyes with further tears. What she saw through the Breath had been too dark, too terrible and the memory of its icy fingers returned as she recalled it. But, before it could draw her into its chill dread, the tapping of Delgrij's root-caps brought her again to the present and she sat up at his approach.

He held her rucksack close to his chest, protectively and shoved the nuru’s curious snout away from it twice before reaching her. And it was so warm in her paws when he pressed it into them.

“Elleyfen!” she shouted, and her flattened ears bounced to attention before embarrassment dropped them again, “we mean th—thank you.”

Delgrij bowed and she squeaked as she rummaged through her returned rucksack—her link to her warren, to home—while he returned to his chair.

Infae curled up beside him as he sat and whimpered for the return of his branches, filling the room with rumbling purrs as Delgrij gave them. But his eyes were on the sprout, and the odd item she had pulled from her furry bag.

The glowing blue cube of hyla glared at Faerai; imperfect, a failure and she frowned as she studied its awkward edges and chaotic glow. Ozma wriggled, pressing its snout into her knee and she sighed before she bit into a corner of the hyla's thin, membranous surface. With a gooey chunk secure in her teeth, she tossed the rest of it into the rucksack and chewed her bite of captured Breath. Its electric warmth ran down her throat, igniting Breath and blood and smoothed the trials of her previous lights.

But it did not soothe the failure of its making.

Confused agony shivered through her and for a gasp, a flash, she saw herself as the gnu had; a bright blue cloud of death. Then the pain withered, replaced by guilt and shame that popped on her tongue as her thoughts prodded, too young to reap. But Faerai ignored it and swallowed the rest of her bite, smiling as she caught Delgrij’s worried eyes.

“You collapsed,” He said in a quiet voice, branches firm on Infae's exposed belly as the nuru cooed and twitched.

Faerai's false smile wrinkled and fear trickled into her words, “We did?”

“Yes. You did,” He said, eyes returning to Infae.

Faerai’s nose wriggled then, with the scent of him, as Delgrij’s bark and leaves practically oozed with a worry too worn and rich to be for her. “We saw,” she said slowly, quietly, studying the sorrow carved so deep in his bark before looking to Ozma's bright yellow eyes, “darkness.”

Delgrij stilled and then he stood, careful not to wake Infae, and moved to sit beside her, “What sort of darkness?”

“Cold,” Faerai said, her face heating as she scooted to offer him room, but she held her tongue. Papa warned, she fretted, not to share…not to tell who we—

“I will not harm you,” Delgrij soothed her unspoken fears, “you are protected here.”

“No tricks?” Faerai asked, eyeing the little light then cracking with snores.

Delgrij smiled so bright, so warm and put his hands up, “No tricks, sprout. I am well fed. My words are what I wish them and nothing more.”

She tilted her head with the aroma of those words and nodded. He smiled again, flushing her cheeks as she asked, “What means sprout?”

“It is the brand—our name—for young Napyr, those freshly grown and newly sprouted,” He answered before easing against the carved wood walls, content to wait however long she needed for his answers.

“We are youngling to Elders,” Faerai said and scooted back to join him, but the color of the wood bled too red, too dark and she shuffled again to the edge.

“The same meaning then,” Delgrij said as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Faerai wrung her tails, “We are protected...because we are young?”

“Yes,” He said, opening a single eye before adding, “and because I am unsure what you are, exactly and have never been fond of eating strange things.” Faerai gasped and Delgrij chuckled, waving his branches, “A joke, only a joke! I promise you, sprout, I could no more harm you than I could Infae there.”

Ozma pressed closer to her, flashing its eyes at Delgrij and Faerai sighed at it, a heavy, irritated sigh that narrowed Delgrij’s eyes.

Then she spoke, “Darkness was black. Too black and smell of…we smell many things, too many, but darkness smell only of hunger and fear. But not of own fear.”

Delgrij moved to join Faerai on the shelf’s edge and dropped his voice to a whisper as he watched Infae, “do you know of my kind?”

“We know stories,” Faerai said, ears perking high as she explained, “papa use paintings and carvings to tell tales of pretty trees. Say trees so beautiful they spell any who see.” She looked away then, as a blush burned in her cheeks, “they use looks and words to sing younglings into gorebarks...to eat.”

Delgrij laughed, as a gentle breeze through dry leaves, before he said, “Well, your papa is not wrong, at least not entirely. We do not eat younglings. I am not entirely certain I know what those are. In fact, I do not believe I have ever beheld anything quite like you.”

The flattery in his tone and warmth of his smile burned Faerai's cheeks hotter and hotter until she had to hide her face in her paws for fear she would ignite. But Delgrij tugged at those paws, gently, and held them in his much smaller branches.

Then, when the burn only smoldered, Faerai smiled and pulled her paws into her lap.

“Napyr require ichor to function,” Delgrij continued without question, without judgment, as he rested his arms on his legs, “and, I am sorry to confirm, the methods you describe are accurate, but I did not ask to frighten you. I asked as a means of explanation. You see, when you...found me, I had been without ichor for many turns, or cycles, perhaps even ages—our minds are not intact when we are so dry. Wyld is what we brand the state I was in and I had been wyld for…far too long.”

Faerai motioned to the glistening reds of the walls and asked, “But ichor is all over, in trees and leaves and grass, everywhere there is ichor. How Delgrij dry?”

His eyes jittered and she set a paw on his knee, retrieving it as he flinched, but the smiled apology did little to soften her worry.

“The darkness you saw,” He continued, “the fear you smelled? My brood was beset by darkness such as that.” He looked out the window then and Faerai’s worry grew with the sight of blue light twinkling on red tears, but his voice held none of it, remaining calm and even, “One of cold fear and impossible black. All were torn to splinters when I found them, their seeds left rotting in the dust. All save our eldest, our strongest. They were...changed. As they remain out there,” He motioned to the window with a wave of his branches, but his eyes would not follow, “Statues hewn of callous gray, unmoving yet warm to the touch. I tried to wake them. To draw them from their torpor but something pulled at me, at my ichor. What writhes now within that stone is no seed of mine. It is dark, cold, endless and—and I had lost much before I found them...that way. I could not bear losing more so I...I let myself dry.”

Faerai kept her worry quiet as she dug in her memory for the scent that wafted from his bark. The chill of it, the confusion, the strangled fear and her lips twitched as she found it.

Papa, the worry sang and, avoiding Delgrij's eyes, she kept her voice low as the memory of the voice in the darkness, the Fyrni voice, swelled in her own, “does darkness...change only Napyr?”

Delgrij gawked, an answer wrinkling his bark but the worry in her voice trapped it behind his lips, It is a predator without end, sprout, sure to devour all it touches…but I will not add to your worry, I will not be the reason for what glistens in those wide, perfect eyes. Without a word he hopped off the shelf and eyed the stains of his earlier sorrow on her fur and trousers.

“You need fresh covers, sprout!” He announced before coughing the unsteady rasp free to ask, “Do you have spare covers in your satchel?”

Faerai blinked at him, her father's voice replaying a similar question through her thoughts and that fear-laden stench swelled again, but she ignored it and muttered, “No.”

“Well, I have traded with many an Auru over the ages and you appear...roughly the same size as their fawns,” He hurried, eyes everywhere but on hers, “Perhaps I have something that will suffice.”

Faerai watched as Delgrij disappeared into an alcove, and then she watched the empty space he left behind before finally settling her wet eyes on her shadow. Its yellows flickered with a sadness she could not know and she patted its wisping head. The little light still cracked and creaked with snores and the massive fluffy beast purred with a flowery, contented scent on the smooth wood floor.

Discovery is distraction, Faerai’s thoughts sang, mimicking a remembered phrase and a shiver chased it as she searched for who had said it. But the memory squirmed, slithering from her attempts to catch it, to know it...and slipped away.

Then she slipped with it, off the shelf, vaguely aware of a throbbing in her ear as she searched for a distraction.

#tag games #proud tag #open tag #writing community #weald and wen #i just love this sad daddy tree #it's honestly not the best written and i see flaws i want to fix despite how many times i've edited it #but it's still my favorite

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killiru · 1 year

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So when Mix said in the Mlc special that Wen and him has much in common he meant...

This?

"I like to eat old people and stuff". I see you Mister lol

#moonlight chicken #mix sahaphap #earth pirapat #just a joke obv #i live the wen has daddy issues agenda #earthmix #sorry im silly but its funny okay?!

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truly-morgan · 8 months

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[JC's daddy meets JFM]

AllCheng (RuoCheng focused) | Mo Dao Zu Shi Modern AU 10-04-2021

[#allcheng (slightly ruocheng focused)- modern]

Of course, jfm couldn't leave it at that and he/ needed/ to know. So he may or may not have learned what his son had been up to all this time and that he had never told him after snooping around (even wwx seemed to know some of it?!).

To say he didn't like the idea was an understatement. He hated it. How could his son not only be with an older man, but /five/ of them at the same time, one of which was an old business rival of his!

He tried contacting jc, but he was either too busy to talk (which now he knew /why/) or wouldn't pick up, so he decided to go to his apartment without notice. The semester had restarted, he shouldn’t be travelling around too much now, was he?

He had to ask wwx for the address, coming rather late in the morning to make sure his son would be awake, having no clue if the young man was working on the weekends. He was surprised by how big and expensive the place seemed to be, wondering how he could afford it (although he had his own suspicion).

He still went for it, only to not have his son open the door for him. Oh no, far from that, he wished it had been anyone else.

Wrh was standing in the doorway, only wearing pyjama bottoms, looking as if he had woken up only moments ago. There was a silence when they suddenly got face to face, only for wrh to smirk a bit. “How can I help you, jfm?”. Jfm doesn’t really have the time to argue anything when a voice comes from deeper in the apartment, footsteps coming closer to them. “A-han is it lxh? I thought he said he would pass only tomorrow to help me with my homework”.

Then an even bigger and more awkward silence fell on everyone when he finally saw his father, suddenly feeling that the only thing he was wearing was wrh shirt (which thankfully was too big and hide him rather well even though he was wearing underwear). He asked what he was doing here, trying not to sound too bad, seriously surprised because he did /not/ remember ever giving him his address (not that jfm ever asked about it in the first place).

“Can’t I visit my own son to make sure everything is alright?” he receives, clearly eyeing wrh, which jc doesn’t know /how/ to explain his presence, even less with all the scratch marks on his back (he really did that?) and the hickeys he had been allowed to place on his chest. He was probably no better, wrh just loving leaving tonnes of marks on the inside of his tights, knowing there were probably still some leftover marks from the restraint he had the night before.

It would be hard the deny what he had done.

He wanted to just say he had things to do, but jfm kind of forced his way in, telling him he /knew/ what he was up to. This only made jc nervous, thankfully wrh was here to keep him relaxed, moving them back to the kitchen so they could sit down. Clearly, jfm was not going to let it go and it was probably better if jc could just sit down and not worry.

It was hard to do when pictures were slapped on the table, showing him with his different lovers, either too affectionate or straight-up kissing in some. He was so screwed, jfm knew and now he was so disappointed He was taken out of his panic by a hand gently going through his hair, still wavy from the tight braid he had the day before. It helped him relax, going back to what he had settled for in the past months.

So what if jfm was disappointed? It had always been like this and now he was living /for himself/.

The following request for him to stop all this and stop acting in such ways wasn’t really that surprising. He was pretty sure jfm was probably even restraining himself not to say he was acting like a whore (he knew some people would think like this, but he didn’t care, he loved all of them the same anyway).

“And why should I listen to you? I thought you had made it clear enough that you didn’t care much about me anymore, I don’t see why I should care about your demands”. He tried sounding confident in his words, yet his hands were shaking under the table, so unused to talking back like this and outright /refusing/ anything his father was telling him.

The effect was good, as jfm looked rather stunned by his words, only once had jc really gone against him and it was when they argued after the young man changed his study course entirely without telling them.

“/you/ decided I wasn’t worth putting any attention and love into, I simply found people who saw my worth and decided to do what you never did: love and appreciate me without intendable expectation,” jc said, starting to feel much more confident now that jfm wasn’t immediately adding anything (and that wrh was sitting close to him).

“/I/ decided I would live for myself and found what seemed good for me, /I/ decided to be the Jiang Cheng /I/ was, not the one you wanted me to be, which was basically setting myself up for pain and disappointment”.

His shaking as slowly went from nervous to angry, years of repressed anger and frustration finally coming to the surface. He felt like it was now that he needed to say what he needed or he would never find the same courage to do so.

“/you/ decided to never be there for me. Had an archery competition? Of course, couldn’t come, too busy with work, but wwx teacher was doing an art gallery for his class? Of course, you were there. Got badly sick at school one time and again you couldn’t come when you knew damn well mother was away and couldn’t either. But the time jyl was slightly sick you would come and get her, same for wwx. I never decided to push you away, you just never tried to keep me close to you as I was slowly crumbling down.”

Jfm didn’t miss the trilled and proud look wrh had throughout jc monologue, the young man kept on finding things jfm had done to fail at being a good father. He was so proud because jc was being honest and bold about what he thought, something he had slowly pushed him towards. Talking like this had clearly been something jc wouldn’t have been able to do when he first started helping the young man.

“I was not enough for you so I found people for whom I was more than enough, and you have /no idea/ just how much better I am doing now, having people recognise what I do and who are able to give me some praise”.

“So all you are looking for is praises?”.

Jc frowned at this, only to turn towards wrh when he heard him give a dry laugh “As always, you do not listen when you are being told something” he simply commented.

Then jfm proceed to try and say if it was praise, he wanted, he had praised him before. To which jc didn’t even let him finish with a “Don’t you dare. When was the last time in the past ten years you ever praised me because you were genuinely proud of what I did and not to make wwx shine even more in comparison to me”.

The silence and thinking were enough of an answer, making him both angry and wanting to cry. He already knew his father had given up on ever having anything good from jc for what /he wanted/ from him (because of course, jc doing good in anything else was just a waste of time).

“How pathetic, you cannot find anything in the past years yet I can find tone in the past days?” wrh asked, clearly loving how he was getting under jfm skin with how much he seemed to know more about jc than he did (and he was his father!). “a-cheng did really great in his latest culinary test, managed to create an interesting menu for a class which was in the top five for his class, kept on working hard in his study while working at the same time” he continued a little bit more, saying all things jc had done greatly lately, many being academic because it's as most likely what jfm valued the most.

“and you cannot even find one in ten years” he simply finished.

There was a silence between all of them. After some time, jc simply pushed back to photos of his father. “I found people that I love and love me back, I won’t give it all up because someone who doesn’t even spare me a glance other than if it can possibly stain his reputation is asking me to” simply stated.

He stopped him when he was about to talk again, cutting him yet another time like he would have never dared in the past. “You should go, clearly you are not open to understanding me and I am /not/ open to changing what I am doing now”.

There was more silence, before jfm took back his papers, stood up and left. This somehow made jc both relieved that he wouldn’t argue more against the small good he had found (the first in years!) but also disappointed that he didn’t even want to put some effort into understanding his own son.

Only when he heard the door shut that he finally stood up on shaky legs, wrh sliding his chair back a bit so he could straddle him, his arms hooking around the older man quickly, hiding in the crook of his neck, only then allowing himself to feel upset.

This had been a bit too much for him, too much anger, disappointment and hurt at the same time. All because jfm refused yet again to see who jc was and not impose who he wanted him to be. “It’s alright a-cheng” he heard gently whispered, arms keeping him close, a hand gently rubbing his back. “You did nothing wrong, you even did very well in finally saying what was bothering you, it is not your fault he decided not to listen, we are all here for you if you need it”. He kept on gently reassuring him, whispering sweet nothing by time just so he would calm down.

Yes, jc had made the right choice. He was truly better off with them, he wouldn’t need to change who he was for them to be happy about him. “How did it feel?” he heard after some time, still holding tightly to wrh.

“good” he replied after a moment.

It truly felt good to finally let it all out.

Original

#tweet archive #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #allcheng #ruocheng #jiang cheng #wen ruochan #jiang fengmian #sugar daddi #modern au #sugar baby jiang cheng #sugar daddi wen ruohan

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