#I am so unbelievably frustrated with myself right now

[t-tomuras]

^ me at my fucking self

[pyxxiestyxx]

Awakening

No one told me how good it was going to feel.

They talked on and on about how I would lose my values, my thoughts, even my soul.  They told me I would be damned for eternity, trapped inside of myself and unable to so much as blink, much less scream.

They told me that my 'Owner' would ignore my need for control, would take parts from me until the only thing left was a shell of myself, a thing.

I believed Them.

I still do, to be honest.

The problem is that ever since I've woken up from the implantation surgery...I can Feel It.

Her implant, like a seed taking root in my nerves and muscles.  Wrapping around my spine like a long-lost lover, communicating not with mere words but in feeling, in intention, in silent memory.

And it feels impossibly, unbelievably good.  Each second brings yet another pulsing wave of pleasure emanating from my spine. 

Training, She had said.  Conditioning, she silently added with Her eyes, like violet storms.

And even though it is nothing more than simple pleasure, even though I know exactly what She is doing...I can tell it's working.

I can feel the soft curl of a smile on my lips, when I get distracted.  I can feel it guide me.  Making me want to obey.  The stick is unneeded when the carrot is unable to be resisted.

She told me I'm going to feel this way every day of the rest of my life. 

I cried.

I don't know if it was from frustration, or relief.

...Or maybe I do know.  Maybe I do, and the thought of knowing terrifies me more.

I am unable to ever be alone again.  Unable to ever make a mistake, unless She wants me to. 

I am unable to hate Her anymore.

Not that I think I ever did, not really.  She was...is difficult to get along with, to be sure.  But She listens to me.  I know She does.  And I'm healthier than I've been in a long, long time.  It is, if nothing else, a decent life promised to me.

Ah.

It...the implant rewarded me for that thought. 

...hm.

Would I have thought this before now?

Doubtful.

But that me had yet to understand.  Was convinced they could escape, if only they tried hard enough.

I have been disavowed of that notion.

She promised me as much, and She has kept every one of her promises.  I know that now. That no matter how I pound at these walls, there is truly no escaping Her. Not now, not ever. And that I soon may change into someone, something else.

I should be scared right now, I think.

I should be terrified.

But that is an unneeded emotion.  Fear is a harsh teacher, one necessary to guide our clumsy evolution.  It sang to the rapid beating of your heart: 'Respect that which you do not understand, and avoid that which hurts you.'

And though I still have yet to understand Her...I know She will not hurt me.  And I know that my fear would ultimately achieve little and less.

And so if fear and terror are unneeded, why not prune it way?  Why not excise it, so that the wound may heal?

Ah.

I see.

I suppose...I suppose I will change. 

And I suppose I am changing, even now.

And perhaps...

Perhaps I already am changed. 

Already different.  I tasted nectar and ambrosia, and now the bread and wine of mortal men is but ash and mud in my mouth.

For I am no longer in control.

And I am glad that They never told me how Good that feels.

[generalsmemories]

hello jing yuan's wife!! congrats on 1k followers! you very much deserved it 😊 may i please request for jing yuan with angst scenario #5? thank you in advance!

Stubbornness

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompt used: needing to go to an event after a party and having to pretend as if they aren’t angry with one another the entire time || 1k event

✧ contents: established relationship, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, arguments cause yeehaw, however happy ending cause they are functioning adults, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: the amount of times ya'll have called me jing yuan's wife at this point HAHAH. anyway! first drabble to kickstart the 1k event is a sort of angsty one because why not but ya'll remember that one book where the sanctus medicus had 5 operations to try and get rid of jing yuan? yeah have that back in mind. - also not beta-read but who is surprised at this point LMFAO

"... You could've died."

Jing Yuan snorts, adjusting the bracers on his forearms without even sparing you a glance, "But I'm here right now breathing, aren't I?" he quips back instead, almost sounding amused at your worry.

It infuriates you. It baffles you how little he truly cared about the situation and at the severity of it. The hair you had for once tried to style already messy by the amount of times you've ran a hand through it out of stress or frustration the past two hours.

You're so glad you made Yanqing leave earlier to assist where it was necessary.

"Do you honestly see this as a mere joke, Jing Yuan?" you sneer, arms crossed whilst leaning one side against the doorframe. He must already know what you're referring to, being that you had finally opened the report handed to you from today - a report telling that there was yet another attempt on his life.

Another attempt that he didn't want to tell you about.

"Quite the contrary," he says, turning around to finally face you. His smile is still present on his lips which only serves to make you more agitated, "Nothing happened as you can see, and I'm perfectly fine. As such I didn't see the need to tell you about it because nothing happened. I wasn't even at the Artisanship Commission like they thought-"

"Because you got delayed."

He sighs, crossing his arms as well and cocking his head to the side, "Dear, with the amount you're worrying about me it makes me believe you have no trust in my capabilities to protect myself. Am I right to assume that?" he questions, his smile fading a bit after he had asked.

"Where the hell did you even get that from- Can I not worry about my lovers safety even when I'm aware of his swordmanship?" you ask, clicking your tongue whilst running yet another hand through your strands.

"And I'm telling you that it is a needless worry-"

"You're fucking unbelievable," you scoff, turning around to head for the entrance of your home, Jing Yuan quirking an eyebrow at your retreating form, "Oh? You're not going to nag at me further?" he asks, his tone may be lighthearted, but even you can pick out the slight bite it has to it.

"Even looking at you right now makes me want to punch you. The fact that you can't even see where I'm coming from is unbelievable enough, so fine! I won't worry more about our dear general," you bite back, slamming the door shut once you're at the other side.

You can come up with an excuse as to why the two of you arrive separately - it wouldn't be the first time after all.

"You must be quite delighted that the expedition finished earlier than planned, right [Name]?" Master Gongshu asks, handing you a glass and immediately clinking his own against it before taking a sip, "Even the tiny lieutenant made more of a name to himself out there."

You snicker, swirling the contents of the drink before you, stealing a brief glance over at Jing Yuan who is surrounded himself, "Indeed, I'm quite relieved to see him and Yanqing safely return to the Luofu."

Even though there was immediately another attempt on his life the moment he stepped one foot back onboard.

"But say, aren't you a bit saddened that the general haven't been by your side as much today? He's practically surrounded by the other commissioners and knights," master Gongshu points out, to which you only shake your head, "Why of course not, as long as I know that my husband is safe - I wouldn't have to worry about anything," you say - a bit louder than needed.

You know Jing Yuan heard you.

He kept his attention solely on the people before him though, not even sparing you a glance.

The sight makes you let out another loud sigh, bringing the glass to your lips only to immediately drink it in one gulp, Master Gongshu snickering beside you while calling another waiter over, "Oho, I see you're rearing to go so early! This is indeed what a celebration feast is about!" Master Gonshu roars, his laughter having been a bit too loud to attract the attention of other people, who merely snickered at his own energy.

Jing Yuan only narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure at your comment. It seems like you still haven't cooled down. But as soon as he heard his name get called, he was all smiles again, "Aren't you worried that [Name] is going to drink too much, general?" a solider jokingly asked, raising his own glass to have a toast with the general. Jing Yuan merely let out a low chuckle, "Of course not, and even if they were to, I'm here to take care of them."

At this point, the master diviner had made herself to your side with a few snacks - just in time to see your expression twist for a split second upon hearing what Jing Yuan said, letting out a laugh yourself, "Oh, don't worry dear. I know how to take care of myself, so there's no need for you to needlessly worry like this!"

She can practically sense the animosity between you two that no one else in the room has apparently picked up on.

But Fu Xuan does admit that seeing Jing Yuan's perfectly crafted smile twitch a bit in annoyance while his eyebrows furrowed a tiny bit did bring her satisfaction - a taste of his own medicine.

So while master Gongshu have wandered off to get a refill, she makes her way over to you with a raised eyebrow, "Trouble in paradise?" she asks lowly, you merely huff in return - turning around to lean on the fence, staring at the various starskiffs in the air, "... No."

"I applaud you for still wanting to lie in front of me," Fu Xuan comments, placing the tray of various snacks beside you for your perusal - you don't grab anything, already lost in thought.

"Is it a needless worry?" you end up asking, Fu Xuan having leaned against the fence herself while having her body turned to face you, "About what? His safety? Yes and no."

"Gee, that helps a lot."

"He's a general, [Name]. An attempt on his life is unfortunately common sense, moreso at this time too being that he had just returned from an expedition and would be by some standards - exhausted and have his senses dulled."

"So why-"

"But it's also because he is a general that precautions are taken. Even if he got delayed or not before coming to the Artisanship Commission, the Cloud Knights stationed had already intercepted the attempt - he would've still been safe."

You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from blurting anything more. In hindsight you were perfectly aware that Jing Yuan would be fine - but you're pretty sure there's not a single lover out there who would not worry about their own husbands' safety if his head had once again been targeted - even if it had been yet another failed attempt.

Before you can admit your wrongdoings to Fu Xuan, you feel an arm slither around your waist - delicate lips pressing against your temple, and from the faint breath Jing Yuan lets out, you can tell he's had a few more to drink than you in the span of your conversation with Fu Xuan.

"... I thought you didn't like to drink that much," you say softly, turning around in his hold only to be met with a smile, "And I thought you weren't going to speak to me?" he whispers back. You merely huff and let his head fall down to your shoulder, sending Fu Xuan a pleading gaze to which she immediately gets without you needing to say anything more - walking over to the crowd of onlookers to step in for both you and Jing Yuan.

"I am still mad," you finally utter after a few minutes of silence between the two of you.

"Whatever can I do to make my beloved not mad at me then?" he asks back in a whisper, careful to not let anyone else hear the two of you. You can tell from your peripheral vision that he's turned his head to face you, although you keep your gaze facing forward.

"Admit you were wrong," you huff, Jing Yuan letting out a low chuckle at how you're still holding onto that stubborness, "I'm pretty sure I saw that you were about to admit that you were wrong to the master diviner, no?"

You don't answer, merely looking away in a silent defiance. The sight making Jing Yuan sigh in amusement, "Alright, I'm sorry dear. I'll make sure to tell you in the future whenever I feel something amiss," he says in the end - but before you can accept that apology, he quickly adds on.

"In return, I do hope you tell me whenever the disciples also target you."

.... Oh.

"... You know you could've made me inform you in any other way than having us argue?" you state, back to your moody self - the switch in mood making your husband laugh, "Not such a great feeling being left in the dark, is it?" he reminds you - and you hate how effective this sort of method is.

So your only reply is to wrap your arms around his waist, "I'm sorry," You can feel his body shake with laughter, his own arms wrapping around your shoulders before you feel his lips pressing themselves at the top of your head, "Now stop being mad, because these few hours were quite tortuous for me."

"You just say that because I usually do all the talking."

"Precisely."

struggled with that ending for 3 days man.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Hot To Argue

masterlist

summary: dean’s mad you were reckless during a hunt, but your lips just look so damn kissable!

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.1k

warnings: just funny fluff really, language, talk of sex, mention of death/injury

The ride back home to the bunker was awkward to say the least. Dean was furious at you, but you didn’t understand why. You had saved his life a mere two hours ago! He should be grateful!

“Want any music?” Sam asked, hoping to break the tension. He turned on the radio but Dean instantly shut it off.

“No music,” he grumbled, Sam rolling his eyes and letting out a frustrated huff.

“You understand this is fucking stupid, right?” Sam laughed a little.

“Thank you!” you chipped in.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their fucking pie holes!” Dean exclaimed, his grip on the wheel tightening with anger.

“It’s cake hole, dumbass,” you muttered.

“What’d you say?” Dean whipped his head around as Sam reached for the wheel.

“Eyes on the road, this shotgun is precious cargo!” Sam exclaimed.

“Y/n what you did was stupid and dangerous.” Dean turned back around and focused on the road. “You will sit back there quietly and really think about just how fucking stupid it was.”

“Stupid?” you scoffed. “Fuck you, Dean, I just saved your life and this is how you repay me?”

“I said shut your god damn mouth before I stop the fucking car and make you walk home!” he shouted.

You didn’t dare say anything else. You knew he was bluffing, but he was furious; so there was a small possibility he’d stop the car and walk home himself just to get away from you.

Sam awkwardly glanced at you in the rear view mirror, a compassionate look behind his stoic face. Every so often, Dean looked at you through the same mirror, just to be sure you were still alive and your stupid move back there hadn’t gotten you killed.

When Dean parked Baby in the garage and you all stepped out, he gripped your upper arm gently and pulled you with him to your shared bedroom.

“If you wanted to have angry sex, all you had to do was ask.” You smirked, but your expression changed when you saw his face. He was still angry. Furious, outraged, all the synonyms.

“Y/n I am so unbelievably mad at you right now stop trying to weasel out of having this very serious fight!”

“Dean-”

“No!” He pointed a finger at you. “What you did back there was stupid, reckless, and downright idiotic! You could’ve been killed trying to stop me from getting barely injured!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not gonna apologize, Dean. What I did was make a quick decision about risking my own life to save yours. I didn’t even end up getting hurt for fucks sake! Calm down!”

“You don’t even see what you did was wrong!” he yelled. He put his hands in front of him and tried emphasizing his point. “You could’ve fucking died back there and it would’ve been my fucking fault!”

“No, if I died it would’ve been one-hundred-percent my own fault, Dean. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that now, but if things had gone differently you know damn well I would’ve blamed myself!” he said, his voice still raised and his hands in front of his chest, his palms facing you.

“Can you stop doing that with your fucking hands, please?” you exclaimed with anger.

“The hell are you talking about? I’m not doing anything with my hands?”

You gripped both of his wrists and brought his hands about six inches forward, colliding them with your boobs. His angered expression instantly became one of pure shock.

“When you put your hands like that all I can think about is what you’re doing right now,” you told him. You shoved his hands off of your chest. “Put them behind your back or something.”

He put his hands behind his back, “That’s not fair,” he scoffed.

“Why not?”

“Well cause when you pout your lips all angrily all I can think about is this!” He bent down and kissed you, pulling back after a moment. “Now keep those gorgeous lips between your teeth or something so I can stay mad at you!” You did as he asked and sucked your lips in to form a thin line.

“Your lips are kissable too you know,” you said, distorted due to the fact you couldn’t use your lips properly. “You have to do this too!”

He mirrored your expression and sucked his lips in. “Stop sticking your chest out!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are! Whenever you’re angry you puff out your chest and it makes your tits look incredible so just turn around so I can’t see them!”

You rolled your eyes and turned around. “Happy?” you scoffed.

“No, I’m still fucking mad at you!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, this isn’t working for me cause now all I can think of is you fucking me from behind. Turn around and keep yelling at me for being a good person and saving your god damn life!”

He turned around, “You were being stupid, Y/n and you know that!” There was a moment of silence.

“You know your hands are now brushing my ass?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled to himself. “God, we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“You’re just realizing this now?” you laughed a little. “We really are stupid though. I mean here we are fighting because I was reckless, and we’re so hot for each other we have to argue back-to-back?”

“Ah-ha! So you admit you were being reckless!” Dean said, you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, Dean and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being reckless, but I am not sorry for risking my life to save you.”

“Y/n-”

“Dean, if you had gotten killed and I could’ve saved you, I would've never forgiven myself. I would die for you any day of the week, you know that.”

“Can I turn around now?”

“You sure you want to? You’re still touching my ass,” you chuckled.

Dean turned around as you did the same. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” he mumbled.

“I love you so much, too.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his torso. “You can put your hands a little lower, Dean I know you want to.” He didn’t waste a second and moved his hands to rest on your ass.

“You’re incredible, Y/n. Thanks for putting up with all my stupidity over the years.”

“You too, Dean. Thanks for mirroring my stupidity enough so I don’t feel like a complete idiot.”

“You’re very welcome.”

[beaconfeels]

@lucky-bishop said I could say they tagged me in a WIP whenever thing, so I am. I’ve been working on a lot of different things at once lately. One of these days at least one of them is bound to get done, right? Have a snippet from a shorter Steter fic:

Peter, surprisingly, doesn’t come through the window. He comes through Stiles’s bedroom door shortly after his last text.

“How’d you get in here?” Stiles asks. He’s tired enough that he has a moment of wondering if he somehow let Peter in and then forgot.

Peter holds up a keyring with a bunch of keys hanging off it. “You’re not the only one who gets their hands on keys,” he says.

“What?” Stiles hisses, trying to keep his voice low so he doesn’t disturb his dad. “How long have you had those?”

“Oh, a few years,” Peter says vaguely.

“A few years?”

“Yes,” Peter replies.

“Before we were friends,” Stiles says after some calculation.

“Oh Stiles, we’ve always been friends, haven’t we?”

“I think you’re forgetting about the times you tried to kill me!” Stiles whisper-shouts.

Peter actually looks affronted at that. “Name one time I tried to kill you.”

“That night at the school,” Stiles answers immediately.

Peter actually has the audacity to scoff. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, you just happened to be there. Sticking your little nose into everything, like you always do.”

He boops the end of Stiles’s nose when he says that last part, and Stiles’s mouth drops open. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” Peter asks, shrugging, “I’m simply telling the truth.”

“Sure. You never tried to kill me. Right.”

“Sweetheart, if I had wanted to kill you, I had plenty of chances, not the least of which was when I had you all to myself in that parking garage.” He grabs Stiles’s wrist in a light grip and moves it toward his own mouth. His blue eyes look straight at Stiles. “Remember?”

Stiles’s heartbeat goes crazy then. He can feel it thrumming beneath Peter’s fingers. It’s partly a fear response, partly something he’s not going to look at too hard right now. He jerks his wrist away, just like he did that night. “I remember.”

“And you don’t think I could have killed you if I’d wanted to?”

Stiles sighs in frustration. “You do realize this is an insane conversation, right? This is not normal. I’m considering taking back the friend thing.”

“Are you going to break up with Scott then? Because I seem to remember that he literally tried to kill you.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re giving me a headache.” He’s not even lying, his head is starting to hurt.

“Truce?” Peter asks. He actually looks apologetic, like maybe he’s worried Stiles is going to take away his friendship status.

“Fine,” Stiles says. After all, in this life he’s living, holding the past over each other’s heads would dissolve the pack in no time. They’ve only survived as long as they have because they’ve fought for each other, even with all the mistakes they’ve all made.

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER ELEVEN

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks, implied past SA “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past."

THURSDAY APRIL 26TH 2024 MEXICO, 9000 HOURS

"You're fucking unbelievable."

You hop out of the back of the truck, boots hitting the grass with a thud as you continue down the hill towards the line of bodies further down below.  It hurts, sends shockwaves through your broken ribs, but you grit your teeth and bare it.  Simon's remark falls on stubborn ears as he strides after you, his hand barely catching the sleeve of your uniform before you yank your arm away and pick up your pace.  In the distance, thunder rumbles across the humid, dark sky—hot and foreboding.

"Angel, seriously," he calls again, jogging to catch up with you.  "You're gonna—"

"I can take care of myself."

"Your lung is punctured."

"It's not."

"It is," He raises his voice.  "Cut the bullshit and sit down."

You turn to face him, annoyed.

"I'm still walking, aren't I?"  You raise your hands before letting them fall back to your sides as your hoarse voice cuts over the sound of grass in the wind.  "I'm not gonna let those bodies just rot."

"They're bodies.  Dead ones."  He replies, stern.  "Doesn't matter what they look like---they'll get funerals either way."

His apathy towards his own dead subordinates makes your stomach twist in disgust.  What the hell?  Was he really that uncaring?  Did he not care about other people at all?  Had war really changed him that much?  Or was he always this way, and you just hadn't worked with him enough to see his true colors?

You talk through your teeth. "You're a sick bastard, Ghost."

"My concern is with those still walking, keeping my men alive."  He bites back.  "That includes you.”

"Are you that fucking dense?"  You snap back; voice raspy with the strain of being pinned beneath a rifle the night before.  It hurts to yell, but so does everything else.  "I'm the C.O., here.  Those are my men out there that I failed, and I'll be damned if they don't make it back to their families for proper funerals, Lieutenant."

"You're no good to them if you're fuckin' dead too, you know."

"The battle's over, Ghost.  We lost. It doesn't fucking matter what I am.”

Your statement strikes something in him; you know it does because there’s an underlying statement there.  About his absence, about what happened, about how he feels about you.

He hesitates as he stands there, expression tight with frustration, before he shakes his head.

"Of course it fucking matters what you are!"  he yells to you, padding through the grass after you again.  "Do you even hear yourself right now, love?”

Anger bubbles hot and deep with the pain in your chest.

"Stop."  The bite in your tone surprises even yourself as you point an accusing finger at him.  "Stop fucking calling me that.  You don't fucking get to call me that, and you don't get to worry."

Something that might be the closest thing to anger you've seen from him yet flits across his face as his shoulders tense.  You’ve argued before—about trivial things, really—at camp Viking.  But you’ve never seen him actually mad.

You figure it's harder to yell at him this way, when your biting comments reach an actual face instead of an armored mask.  Cold raindrops poke your shoulders and dot dark circles on Simon's shoulders.  

"You get to order me around," he says, voice still low.  Even now, he's still soft with you. "When you’re in the right state of mind.”

Anger flares deep and relentless in your gut.  Thunder rumbles across the desert, clouds dark and angry on the horizon as the rain begins to fall steadily. Your hands clench at your sides as your voice becomes a hiss.  The rain is freezing.  "So, what, my orders don't matter?"

He just stares at you, crooked nose scrunching in a scowl.  Stubborn, the bastard doesn't budge.  “No.”

You stomp up to him, finger in his face and fire in your veins.

"I didn't work myself into a fucking grave for this title," you hiss between your teeth.  "Just for you to appear out of the blue and handle me like I'm still your fragile little broken subordinate."

His gaze narrows down at you.  Damn him, because he's not at all phased by your attempt to reprimand him. 

"Don't sit there and act like this is just about ranks, Angel."

"Then what is this about?!"  You exclaim, voice cracking with emotion.  "Please, enlighten me!"

"You think I want to see you dead?  You think you've never once crossed my mind since I left?”  He retaliates.  “You think I can sit there and watch you kill yourself?”

"Bullshit!"

"I wish it was!"  He laughs bitterly, "I wish it fuckin' was, mate."

"Then how come you never said so?  How come you never acknowledged it?  Did it all—did Christmas day—mean nothing to you?”

“No!”

“Then why didn’t you fucking kiss me?!”

At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re saying.  You’re just desperate for a reaction, any reaction.  Desperate for any sort of answer or sign of emotion from him—a sign that he cared.  Your only goal being to sink your teeth as deep as you can into his flesh.  To get under his skin and make a home there like he did to you all those years ago.

And it works, because the Lieutenant actually flinches.

It’s barely perceivable. A twitch in his cheeks, the slight raising of his brows, his foot shifting to take a steadying step back.  He looks away and shakes his head, speechless.  Hurt, for once, because you’ve taken a weak spot and gone for the kill.  

The sound of the rain fills the silence, chilling your bones and spreading gooseflesh across sweaty skin.  Regret washes over you like a blistering hot tidal wave, realizing what you've said.  How unfair you’ve been.

You reach out, “Shit, Simon, I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” he holds a hand up and you stop in your tracks. 

You purse your lips and drop your hand to your side.  You take as deep of a breath in as your one working lung allows you and look away, lifting your face to the rain in hopes it’ll cool the burn of tears that threaten to spill.  

Simon lets out a defeated breath of his own and changes the subject.

“I’ll take over moving the bodies,” he says in that half-stern, half-soft way you remember.  “You head inside.  Fix yourself like I showed you, get dry, lay down, and stay there."

You swallow thickly, screwing your eyes shut tight.  You want to say more, want to apologize…want everything to go back to normal.  You want to run away and never face him again and you want to turn and hug him.  You have no idea which you want to do more, and even less so what he wants.  If he dreams of that same life you wanted with him; safe and free.  If he wants a house somewhere warm and far away, free from the military.  If he’s ever yearned for domesticality like you have.

You don’t think you’ve ever really known what he wants.

You let out another long breath and swallow heavily.  Turning to where his hand reaches out for you, you take it, and he guides your shaky legs back towards the truck.

“Okay,” you say, quiet and teary, as you lean your weight against him in defeat.  “Okay.”

[biyahthor]

Meeting: Vin Jin

Preview: after entering j high, one day she noticed someone familiar.

This is delicious, I thought to myself as I ate some sandwich I bought, a new item at the store.

As I walked down the halls, I hear some noises and took a peak and saw someone getting bullied. 3 vs 1, not cool.

"you'll never be singer you fat punk"

The shades guy then kicked him by the stomach, his expression in pain.

This feels frustrating to watch.

"hey, it's not cool to gang up who even isn't your level"

"what did you say?"

One of the guys comes forward and tries to touch me, so kicked him and punch the other, taking down easily and leaving the shades guy left.

"just because of their appearance, doesn't mean that they don't have potential, so don't assume easily, shades"

"shades?"

The guy said and approached me face to face as I point out what he's wearing.

"isn't obvious, you're wearing one and it's not even sunny here, what are you, some kind of celebrity star?"

"well what if I am?"

"well you're the worse of the worse star I ever met, piece of shit"

His expression became annoyed because of the way I talked and he was about to grab me. Before he could, I did what Mary noona did.

Flip him to the ground hard in 2 seconds, one for grabbing and two for fucking throw him to the ground, which I did it, too hard than expected.

Ah shit.

I even crack the floor and his glasses, seeing him now barely conscious, I pulled him aside in an empty classroom and glance at the fatty.

"keep quiet ok?"

"ye-yes, thank you for saving me"

He then left and I watched him disappear from my sight. I know his familiar but I don't remember his name.

But anyways let's hide the dead bo— I mean, the fainted bodies.

.

.

.

I dragged them in an empty classroom and sat on the floor as I look at the shaded guy, now his shades broken. I tried putting back on but useless.

So I waited for them to wake up. So I decided to game while I wait for them to wake up and if they try to beat me again, I promise, I'll leave them somewhere they can get lost.

.

.

.

The first one to woke up is one of his gang, then the other. They both immediately left, not wanting to mess with me further and leaving this dude behind.

Later, I saw him waking, I glance up at him and my eyes wide open what I saw.....two eye cores.....in one eye.

The guy stir awake, he tries to fix his glances, only to realize they're not there and looked at me with shock and disbelief.

"you—"

"Vin Jin.....you're vin Jin right?”

I guessed, making him suprised again and confirmed as he stood up. I did the same.

"yeah that's me, what about it you little—"

"seokji yuk..."

The name alone made his expression shocked of how I knew the name. So I was right, this guy is....

"how do you know?"

He asks in disbelief as I try to chill him down

"hold on, I can explain, I know him"

"how, do you know him?"

Vin Jin steps forward, trying to intimidate me as I back against the wall.

"I met him through my sister..."

"your sister? What's gotta do with your fucking sister?"

I sigh, hesitant as I look up at him. The air bit chilly in the empty dim classroom.

"seongjik oppa and my noona, they're both..."

When I told the reason, his eyes went wide. He thinks I'm joking but the second he looks at me again, I can see he was starting to believe.

"you're her sister?"

"yeah, I'm her sister, believe it or not I am, I'm not that known since my sister kept it a secret, no one knows...yet"

.

.

.

We both stand together beside the vending machine as I hand him some soda can and for myself.

"no wonder your moves were familiar earlier, that was Mary's move"

"she taught me when I lived a few weeks in cheonliang before I moved to Seoul as my sister's request"

"can't believe your siblings, she's cool and while you're..."

He looks at me with shaded glasses again, he had extra. But I can tell what he's thinking, making me annoyed as I gulp a drink.

"yeah I'm more quiet and bland so what?”

"nothing, just unbelievable for a girl that cool is your sis—pwah!"

I punched him, making him choke and cough out the drink.

I drank the last of my side and throw it out.

"don't be so assuming, punk shades"

"that name again?"

"more suiting"

I tell and was about to walk away but stopped just to say this.

"your eyes look cool by the way, don't cover it"

I turn to him and saw him paused and stiff. Heh? Nani? What happened to him?

He gulped down all the soda and threw it away, frustrated and flustered.

"shut up you little....ugh just shut up....I didn't get you name you dipshit, tell me"

I sighed heavily, now face to face at him, my hair swayed with the air. My eyes meet his.

"call me y/n, that's all, bye"

I then walk away leaving him, only hearing his reply with a scoff amusement and mocked me.

"what a lame name, queen nonchalant"

[cheeekycharchar]

A second theory has also been tinkering in my mind… Crowley's "I'm back" line isn't him showing up after a 4 year nap but.. CROWLEY IS ABOUT TO ANNOUNCE HE'S MOVING IN WITH AZIRAPHALE.

hold my beer and let me explain my madness again~ lol

I think an unseen moment between the two led to some kind of argument about them moving their relationship forward after thousands of years of holding back and some kind of argument happened from it. Possibly unrelated but Crowley could have gotten SO unbelievably fed up with Aziraphale's holding himself back attitude that even after ALL that happened at the end of season 1 he still won't move forward.. "together".

So Crowley runs outside the bookshop in pure annoyance and lets out a burst of demonic lightning energy in the streets and storms off in a huff.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale just thinks, "Oh, that silly wily ol serpent. Being his bitchy self as always" and goes back to his newspaper research about the strange occurrences with the Buddy Holiday song.

LATER THAT NIGHT (cause it's now dark outside. different scene from the Gabriel jump scare)

HERE HE COMES SPEEDING DOWN THE STREETS OF LONDON… CROWLEY IN THE BENTELY.. FULL OF HIS STUFF. READY TO MAKE A GRAND GESTURE… "I'm back." AND "I'M MOVING IN WITH YOU, ANGEL."

Probably cause I'm in the middle of a big house move myself currently, when I first saw the running theme of naked Gabriel and the BOX. OH SO MANY BOXES. I immediately thought, "Oh! They're moving in together!"

But it wasn't until the trailer and someone pointing out the plants in Crowley's car in one shot and possibly more stuff in his car in the first few seconds of the trailer…

This is Crowley's BIG GESTURE.

He's taking it upon himself to pack up his things and move in with Aziraphale to show his Angel just how much he means to him and wants to finally be closer to him now that they're on "their own side" finally.

So, Crowley's, "I'm back" line to me was him sauntering in after a big "OH EFF IT! I GOTTA DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE, DON'T I!?" meltdown moment of lightning frustration and then trying to act all cool and suave, take off his glasses, announce with a ring of the bell to the Angel sitting RIGHT THERE and.. Aziraphale has no idea what is about to happen.

He's probably thinking, "Oh, Crowley. Throwing a fit and running off and here he is again. What more could he possibly want to argue about now?"

So he plays it cool and calm. Like the parent pointing out the obvious to a child after they just had a tantrum. He gets up and calmly straightens his vest, ready for the next bought of ridiculousness and… Crowley tells him he wants to move in.. together. <3

I HOPE. I HOPE. I HOPE. I HOPE.

OR.. A MORE LIKELY SCENARIO....

He gets mad at Aziraphale saying that amnesiac Gabriel must be protected and stay at the bookshop with him. Crowley fights with Aziraphale over it being too dangerous, so he runs out in frustration, lightning in the streets, packs up his stuff in a huff and comes rushing back to protect his Angel..

"IF HE STAYS.. THEN I'M STAYING HERE, TOO." lol

Am I reading too much into this? Anyone else have this theory yet? Am I just wishful thinking? lol Which of the 2 scenarios do you think is more true? I want it to be the 1st but the 2nd one is probably more likely to happen. lol HELP I NEED SEASON 2, LIKE YESTERDAY D:

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

Harvey returns to his friends for more advice; you overhear an interesting conversation.

a/n: a.k.a., you two are unbelievably oblivious to each other.

btw, please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic!

ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4

paper rings masterlist

chapter three: how you get the girl -> "remind her how it used to be."

Elliott nodded slowly after listening to Harvey's recap of his meeting with you. The doctor had called both Shane and Elliott for a "quick meeting" at his apartment as soon as he left your farm — though, Shane, unsurprisingly, did not pick up, so he sent him a quick text to come by when he had time.

"So, what do you see as my plan of action?" Harvey asked, fidgeting with his hands. "Should I be . . . direct with her?"

Elliott hummed. “Well, you’ll have to be more than direct, my friend,” he decided, a thoughtful glint lighting his eyes. “It’s been years since you’ve seen her, yes?”

“Yes, I haven’t seen her since she graduated college.” The singular sentence itself saddened Harvey, deflating in his seat. “I’m a horrible friend, aren’t I?”

“Precisely!” Elliott exclaimed, only making his guilt worsen. “After such a prolonged period of time away from each other, does it feel fitting to simply tell her your feelings? No,” he said, before Harvey could put together an answer. “The time you two spend together now is imperative — you must spoil her, cherish her, show her how much you care before you tell her.” 

Suddenly, three knocks sounded throughout the apartment, and Harvey quickly stood to answer it. He opened the door to reveal Shane, a six-pack of beers in hand.

“I was asleep,” he explained bluntly, walking in and taking off his shoes, “but after I heard Marnie going on about the new farmer, I figured we’d need these.” He lifted the drinks, walking over to Elliott before setting them down on the table. “Anyway, I could hear your spiel the entire way up the stairs, pretty boy,” he huffed to his friend, already starting to open three cans. “Can’t say you’re too far off from what I was thinking, which is a first.”

Harvey returned to his seat, gladly taking the beer offered to him. “So, you agree?”

“Pretty much.” 

“My point stands,” Elliott said proudly, taking a victorious sip of his drink. “Now is not the time to rush your sprouting relationship  — good things come with time, as they say.” Shane grunted in agreement, visibly displeased that he was on the same page as him.

Harvey fidgeted with the tab on the can, brows furrowed in thought. “I should get her gifts, then? Or buy her meals?”

“That may prove to be too much,” Elliott replied, shaking his head. “The last thing you want to do is scare her away, friend.”

“Don’t be a kiss ass,” Shane summarized.

The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “This is helpless — what am I supposed to do, then?”

“Talk to her,” his friends said in unison, though one sounded much more exasperated than the other.

“Recall the past,” Elliott continued, leaning forward. “The good, the bad; the exhilarating, the mundane, remind her of it all! Then, after remembering the wonderful times the two of you had, she will realize what she has been missing all along has been right in front of her.”

Harvey laughed lightly at the thought. “I doubt she’ll think that,” he sighed. “It’s been so long since we’ve spent time together, not to mention I have no idea if she’s seeing anyone or not.”

“And what if she is?” Shane asked, perking a brow. “I mean, honestly, is the world gonna end? You’ll live, bud, believe me — there are plenty of chicks who dig doctors.”

“I guess you don’t understand,” Harvey replied, shaking his head and staring down at the table. “She’s really been the only one I’ve truly seen myself being with.”

“Bull,” his friend replied, leaning forward in his seat. “You went to college in Zuzu City, didn’t you? No way you didn’t find any girls over there.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you didn’t date anyone? ”

“Did I not just say that isn’t the point here?” Harvey looked up to meet Shane’s smirk. “No matter who I’ve seen in the past, no matter who I see from this point forward, my mind has and always will return to her. It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.”

“My bad, doc,” Shane apologized amusedly. “Didn’t realize you were such a sap.”

“With the right person,” Elliott started, smiling knowingly, “anyone can be a romantic, dear friend. That, I can guarantee.”

Groaning, Harvey leaned forward and let his head drop in his arms, remaining still as his friend comfortingly patted his back.

What have I gotten myself into?

-

You hummed absentmindedly as you walked back into the heart of Pelican Town, the sun finally starting to feel a little warmer on your skin as it steadily rose. You were amazed at how colorful and lively everything looked — the strikingly blue birds, the merrily pink flowers, and even the townsfolk seemed to be blossoming in the spring. You eyed the clinic as you walked past it, noting the makeshift ‘Closed’ sign taped to the door, smiling slightly at the thought of Harvey closing it just for your arrival.

As you made your way into Pierre’s General Store to look at what’s in stock, you were immediately greeted by Pierre himself, his face lighting up as you stepped through the door.

“Hey, it's the new farmer! I'm Pierre, owner of the local general store,” he introduced, meeting you in the middle of the store to shake your hand firmly. “Though, if you rack your brain a bit, you might remember seeing me from time to time as a kid.”

Mouth agape, you scanned the storeowner up and down before exclaiming, “It’s you! Your girlfriend had short green hair, didn’t she?”

“I guess it was shorter back then, so yes! Once girlfriend, now wife, of course,” he corrected, arms crossed proudly as you quietly applauded him. “Glad to see you back in town. Now, I’m sure you know a great deal more about farming than I do, but I do know that my stuff is the best in town.”

And really the only stuff in town, you wanted to say, though you kept your mouth shut. “Good to know,” you replied instead, starting to slowly make your way around the store. “Oh, wow, these are just beautiful! I didn’t know you sold flowers, too.”

You stopped in front of a stand near the register filled with bouquets. The colors ranged wildly, some being a simple white while others flaunted a flash of red. All of them, though, were equally stunning, not to mention they smelled amazing. You immediately thought of Harvey helping you move in, how he had even been willing to close his beloved clinic for a day to set aside time for you.

“How much are these?” you asked, pointing towards the flower stand.

Pierre’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced between your finger and the flowers. “The bouquets?” he clarified. “You’re wondering about the price of a bouquet?”

Confused, you tiled your head. “Yes. Why, are they expensive? I just thought it would be nice to get Harvey a thank-you gift for this morning—”

“Ah, I see!” Pierre exclaimed, cutting you off and laughing loudly. “You know, I typically don’t do this — and don’t expect any more special deals — but I’ll give you one for half off.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, mumbling the latter half of your response as you half expected to get one for free. Still, you picked a bouquet with a good mix of all the colors and handed a few coins to Pierre. “Could you point me towards Harvey’s house?”

“Oh, he lives above the clinic,” Pierre replied, quickly counting the coins in his palm before dropping them in the register. He looked up at you with an odd smile, as if he knew something you didn’t. “There’s a door all the way at the back that leads up to his apartment.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon, Pierre!” With that, you left the store happily. You were slightly worried Harvey might have locked the clinic’s door, but after tugging it open, you wasted no time finding the door Pierre had told you about.

As you walked up, though, an all too familiar voice made you stop mid-step.

“I guess you don’t understand,” you heard Harvey say. “She’s really been the only one I’ve truly seen myself being with.”

She?

“Bull,” another voice said. “You went to college in Zuzu City, didn’t you? No way you didn’t find any girls over there.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you didn’t date anyone? ”

“Did I not just say that isn’t the point here?” You couldn’t say you weren’t stunned. You’d never heard Harvey sound so peeved. “No matter who I’ve seen in the past, no matter who I see from this point forward, my mind has and always will return to her. It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.”

“My bad, doc. Didn’t realize you were such a sap.”

“With the right person, anyone can be a romantic, dear friend. That, I can guarantee,” a third voice chimed in.

You were shocked. No, more than shocked — in complete, utter disbelief. Harvey? Feeling that way for a girl? You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms and looking up at the door. For a moment, you were angry your childhood friend hadn’t mentioned anything about this girl of his, but you could hardly blame him. Why would he, after the two of you stopped keeping up with each other regularly? 

You quietly made your way back down the stairs, trying your hardest not to slam the door. As you started to head back to your farm, you ran into the green-haired woman you recognized as Pierre’s wife.

“Oh, hello!” she said happily, smiling brightly at you. “You must be the new farmer! I remember when you were this tall, you know.” She put a hand on her hip, and you smiled as normally as you possibly could back to her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, desperately wanting to go home. Before you could make your escape, Caroline gasped, looking directly at the bundle of flowers in your hand. Shit.

“My, a bouquet already? Who—”

“They’re for me!” you quickly explained, cursing yourself as you felt your cheeks begin to warm. “I, uh, needed some decoration for my house, and I thought these would do!”

She nodded slowly. “Of course.” Caroline touched your arm lightly before walking towards the store. “Let me know if you need any help settling in, okay? We live right at the back of the store!”

You yelled a quick thanks and practically bolted to the path toward your house, swearing under your breath. Your heart beat heavily in your chest as Harvey’s words kept ringing in your head, for some reason making you more flustered than you normally get.

It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.

If something didn’t make sense to Harvey, you knew it had to be bad. As you finally opened the door to your home, you collapsed on your bed, bouquet falling beside you. After a few moments, you sat up abruptly, scowling at yourself. Why’d you care so much anyway? You laughed humorlessly at yourself. Honestly, who knew the thought of him having a crush would be that bewildering? He was a grown man, after all, feelings like that were normal. Perfectly normal.

That night, you hung the flowers upside down beside the wall on your bed, hoping they’d dry nicely and make their beauty last.

[699charcoalp]

All alone with you

Fanwork about Lincoln and my MC Remus. A lot of grammar problems(because English is not my first language) and ooc, my fault.

Title source: All Alone With You by Egoist.

"Lincoln." someone said in the room. "I am here," Lincoln asked, "Want something?" "Nothing," Lincoln's beloved said, "I just want to know you are still with me." "Alright." And then, Lincoln saw his singer smile and wave at him. Good, again, that smile. Lincoln walks to him and sits down. If someone had acted like that before today, Lincoln might have felt a little bit strange but……the people who did this act were Lincoln's singer, star, and boyfriend. So Lincoln thought everything about the man in front of him seemed…… normal and cute. Immediately after leaving the hospital, Remus checked into Lincoln's house, where he refused all contact with anyone connected to his past (except Lincoln) and just stayed in his room all day. Other than the above, everything is normal. Remus lived in Lincoln's house like a cheerful ghost, he'd scorch the pots when he was cooking, and he'd beg Lincoln to buy a game because it was on sale on his steam wishlist (even though Remus had the money to buy it). It's just that he doesn't make any music anymore, and it's like the days of being the lead singer of a band never happened. A lot of people will say "That is abnormal", but Lincoln is not. For Lincoln, that's just one …… piece in the person of Remus, as a seeing every turn of a kaleidoscope, which is endearing no matter what it looks like. Remus laughs very violently but rarely smiles now. Contrary to when he used to be in the band, Remus used to smile a lot at that time because it was unobtrusive. Remus dreaded every stare. In one of the few interviews he was in the band, he once said: “It's a good thing I'm nearsighted, otherwise I can't have any way of fooling myself that ‘nobody's looking at me’". Lincoln replays this interview again and again and then feels proud because Remus is not afraid of him. Even at that time the members of the band, including Remus himself, knew that Lincoln was Remus's fan (of the intimidating variety). "Did you ever think of calling the police when I used to see you every time? " When the first day of Remus moved into Lincoln's house, Lincoln joked. Remus turns around and looks at him like he heard some unbelievable thing. "No, never, "Remus told him, "Why do I have to? I mean……I know you put a huge attention on me but……" Remus throws the thing that he holding away. His hands gestured idly in the air, trying to find the exact answer in these mysterious gestures, but he finally gave up. "I don't know," Remus spoke frustrated, "Even though from the first time I met you the people around me have said that you are a bit strange ……I still feel you will never hurt me." "You trust me?" "I just believe my heart." Remus shrugged, “Even though a lot of the time it shouts so loud inside me because it's triggering some switch that shouldn't be triggered, it's fine to listen and see what it has to say once in a while, at least I can feel safe. ” When Remus finished, he and Lincoln stared at each other silently for a moment. "Any question?" After this moment, Remus tilted his head slightly to the left. "No." Lincoln laughed and helped Remus put his baggage.

Lincoln's thoughts returned to this room in the present. He changed the subject as if nothing had happened, "So what are we eating tonight?" "Sichuan fish soup with pickled mustard greens, Dandan noodles, and Chili oil wontons." Remus began to say the food's name without hesitation. "Can we just eat hotpot?" “No way.” Remus vetoed, “Hot pot and this type of dish are both from Sichuan or Chongqing but they are not essentially the same thing, and I have to correct you on this erroneous idea that ‘all spicy Chinese food is related to hot pot’.” “All right.”Lincoln stood up, "Want some drink?" "Jasmine milk tea 80% sweet no ice large and without boba." There were no pauses, and someone used his lung capacity well. "Maybe someday you'll try some new flavors of milk tea?" "Yeah, maybe when this world is destroyed." Remus roll his eyes. "Wanna come with me?" Lincoln pretended to extend the invitation as if nothing had happened. "No. I don't want to." Remus' handsome face scrunched up so fast. Remus has never been out of the house since moving into the Lincoln home, except to see the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist claims it's a "pathological isolation" and reminds Lincoln that he must help Remus out of this "rut," but Lincoln thinks it's okay that Remus doesn't want to leave the house. At least he'll never leave me, Lincoln thought, and I don't think Remus doesn't realize he's self-isolating himself. The man who can write lyrics that can make people crazy emotion can't be so stupid that he doesn't realize what he's doing; he just needs time, even if the length of that time is a lifetime. Lincoln stands up and leaves the room, Remus silently follows Lincoln out of the room before taking up position by the door to the room, he leans his full weight against the door frame and watches with his arms crossed over his chest as Lincoln begins to put on his shoes after picking up his car keys. "Miss me?" "No, my dear fan," Remus lied without changing his face, "I just wanna turn the drawing room's light off." Lincoln shrugged, he knew what Remus looked like when he tried to lie, but he was happy to pretend he was being lied to. He walks to the door, but Remus doesn't move. Until Lincoln opens the door and wants to close it, through the crack in the door, Lincoln sees Remus quietly walk toward the switch to turn the light off, and immediately afterward he hears Remus say aloud, "Take care on the road. " The door closed.

@pressplay-if I was going to post it anonymously but couldn't find it …… Anyway! (leaving Tumblr nervously, leaving my laptop nervously, leaving this internet nervously)

[fixfoxnox]

Okay, Luke's somewhat serious post time.

Okay, so recently I've been getting some comments on my Ao3 that have bothered me and I feel like we should talk about comment etiquette again along with some lines of comfort for me.

So first of all, this:

This is not how you ask for more of a fic that you like. I'm already beating myself up over how long its been since I've been able to update things, and having people comment stuff like this on my fics only makes me feel worse.

I am a real person. I have a job and I've been working hard on finishing some commissions that people have PAID me to write. Forgive me if I'm not making the things that I write for free for people in my free time my first priority right now.

I AM absolutely still working on these fics. I've been working on Pyre and some requests in my ask box, but since they aren't my main priority right now its going really slow. I could very easily abandon these fics, but I don't because I love them and I love you guys and writing for you guys. All that I ask in return is that you respect the time and effort that goes into writing these fics.

My 8k-10k fic chapters take like 8 hours to write AT THE LEAST. Like I can't just churn this out like crazy as much as I would like to.

I am fine with people asking if I'm still working on a fic, but not comments like this basically demanding an update.

The next thing:

These were all comments replying to one another on my fic. There are three people in this thread in total and of them, only one of them actually made a comment about my fic.

Two people commented on my fic to essentially have a completely unrelated conversation with someone in my comment section. This is extremely frustrating.

Listen to me, imagine being me and seeing a notification that I got a comment. I get super excited, only to click on it and see that it has nothing to do with the fic that I've written? Its disappointing and so unbelievably discouraging to me.

I don't mind if people don't comment, but I do mind when people do this. Authors comment sections aren't a place to just have a casual chat!!! Keep it about the fic please!

Last thing and for the love of God listen to me:

This is nothing against people with DID. My issue with this falls into 2 categories:

"My one issue is that I'm trans in this, personally would have swapped me and Johnny"

If you are a person with DID and fictives and you read fics with your fictives, you have to understand that I AM NOT WRITING ABOUT YOU.

I do not need your opinion on if I wrote "you" correctly because I am not writing you!! I'm writing the fictional character who I have my own thoughts and beliefs about. If it bothers you, click off. I do not want or need to hear how I got something wrong because its not fucking wrong when it comes to me. Again, extremely discouraging to read.

The second thing and this may sound mean but for the love of God I do not care or need to know if you are a system/have DID. Unless my fic features DID (none of mine do at all) then its just completely unnecessary to mention.

I especially don't need to know which of your alters is talking. Unless I know you, there is genuinely no point to it. It just takes up space and makes things about you rather than about the fic you're commenting on.

Also, in this case? As someone who has been cursed by online role-playing in comment sections, even though this isn't it just feels like role-playing and it makes me extremely uncomfortable.

Please just leave your comment and move on. Unless it has something to do with the fic, I don't need to know this stuff about you. I've had people tell me more personal things in the comment sections that I was fine with and even touched me, but its always about how they relate to the fic, not just random information they throw in.

Again, its just a comfort thing for me.

Okay, serious Luke post is over now.

[witchyquills]

Fiction #1

She was always condescending when she spoke with me. Her tone sharp and unforgiving, slicing through my heart like a butcher's blade. I can't remember the last time we had a civil conversation that didn't involve some critique of the way I carry myself. But as they always say, mother knows best. 

Said mother was sitting across from me in the coffee shop, her extra hot decaf starting to warm as she holds tightly in her hands, her cheeks flushed as she looks out the window, avoiding my eyes. She never changes.

"How's dad?" I ask before taking a sip of my latte, I feel her about to look at me so I turn to glance out the window as well. "He's good. Can you remember what he looks like, dear?" she sighs as she shakes her head slightly before looking out the window once more.

"I have pictures." I state simply, not facing away from the window, my eyes glued to the people on the street, following each of them religiously as they walk by. "Do you think a coat like that would suit me?" I ask, pointing at a woman wearing an extravagant fur coat as she walks by.

"You're unbelievable. Really, dear." she closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head once more with a sigh. I look at her dumbfoundedly, rolling my eyes in frustration I turn back to people watch. "You could've just said no, mom." I take a small sip of my coffee. 

"I am not talking about some trashy fur coat, dear. Acting clueless and shamelessly changing the subject, you never change." Her tone was as always, hurtful. Stabbing.

"I don't want to change, that's why, mom. I like myself." I say assertively, though i still couldn't meet her eyes as she turns to look at me.

"Well, that's surprising." She says blankly before turning away, leaving my blood boiling, my vision blurring with tears that i fight back, blinking them away.

"What does that mean?" I snap, even though I didn't want to, looking at her for the first time in a while, with a deep frown on my face. 

"Nothing, dear. I just find it hard to believe. You've never really liked yourself, since you were a baby I'd say." She states with a small shrug, her words spoken like facts. The knife twists deeper. 

"Actually, I do like myself very much, for your information." I take a deep breath, trying to stabilize my tone. Why did i even agree to this? I knew she'll be digging into my heart every second of it, and I still said yes, picked a coffee shop I knew she'd like, and came. Of my own free will. Maybe I do hate myself. Mother knows best. 

"I am sorry, dear. Didn't mean to hurt your feelings." She looks at me with an apologetic smile, but her eyes say it all, laughing at me for being so sensitive, so emotional, can't handle the truth. A fussy baby that never learns to stop crying. 

I sigh, defeated, there is nothing I can do that can make her see me. I can jump and flail my arms around in her face all I want, but she'll never look my way the way I want her to. That's just how it's always been. That's just how it will always be.

"You're turning 25 this year." She simply states, yet I can feel all the connotations behind her statement. 

"Yes. Time flies." I stare at her as she keeps looking out the window, the sun lighting up her face. I could see every blemish, every wrinkle, Did she always have that many wrinkles around her eyes? My stomach turns a little.

"That man you've been going out with-" Fuck, I can't have this conversation right now.

"We broke up." I interject quickly before she could finish her sentence. "He didn't want anything serious." 

"And you did?" She asks, her voice and face looking very surprised, which only irritated me further. "Yes, mom. I do want something serious. I want to get married eventually." I raise my voice a little, I can't help it, does that woman not know me at all? 

"You're full of surprises today, my dear." She chuckles lightly and takes a small sip of her coffee. I take a deep breath, trying to stop myself from unravelling, which does nothing of the sorts. It feels like putting a band aid on a cracking dam. 

"Maybe it's time I start setting you up. I know a lot of good men." 

"Mom, please, that's not what I need right now." I sigh, placing my mug a little too harshly on the table, more than I intended.

"Okay, okay. I won't. you always get worked up about the weirdest things." She says looking me up and down, I can feel her ridicule seeping through her and latching on to me, suffocating me. My heart beats faster, I take a deep breath.

"I am not worked up." I state calmly, looking out the window, trying to ignore my anxious thoughts bubbling to the surface.

"You almost broke the table, dear." She chuckles lightheartedly before taking a sip of her drink. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 8

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

“I still can scarcely bring myself to believe that you have concealed our marriage from the world,” Lan Qiren grumbled, going through his usual evening routine to prepare for bed.

Wen Ruohan sniggered.

“Is that what’s keeping you awake at night?” he asked, pulling out a piece of correspondence from the middle of the pile on his desk without looking at it.

His subordinates in charge of sect matters knew better than to send him anything less than critical, on pain of literal torture – unfortunately, matters pertaining to the running of his own sect or anything relating to the other Great Sects all fell in the category of critical, which meant there was always something to do. Wen Ruohan knew he’d been getting more and more unstable over time, but he wasn’t yet insane enough to totally abandon the business of running his sect to a subordinate. He wasn’t sure even insanity would be enough to make him do that.

Also, he’d noticed that doing his paperwork in anything other than the order it was in drove Lan Qiren out of his mind with annoyance that the other man tried very hard not to show.

Sure enough, there was a brief pause as Lan Qiren wrestled down his irritation at the sheer disorderliness of it all.

(It involved him very obviously reminding himself that it was against the rules to strangle his spouse, with relevant citations. Wen Ruohan enjoyed every moment.)

“I am not being kept awake,” he said testily, as if he wasn’t going to hit the end of xu shi and fall asleep like a stone, sure as clockwork. “It is merely – ”

“That it is completely unbelievable, yes, you’ve already mentioned that several times. Still, I’m a little offended that that was what you found most memorable about this evening…”

Personally, Wen Ruohan was more inclined to give the honor to the absolutely delicious fucking he’d managed to sweet-talk Lan Qiren into, right over his desk the way he liked it. He’d had him give it to him slow and relentless, dragging it out over the course of what felt like a full shichen, and, even better, he’d managed to convince Lan Qiren to continue talking over the situation with the Yueyang Chang clan almost the entire time. There was something particularly enticing about hearing Lan Qiren use the same dull monotone he used to drone on and on about his sect rules to analyze the most efficient means by which Wen Ruohan could and imminently was going to conquer four – four – cultivation sects in a single strike, all while pounding away at him without even the slightest hitch of breath or unsteadiness…

Wen Ruohan would have to see if he could get him to do it again in the morning.

“It would be one thing if I believed you had an actual political purpose behind your actions,” Lan Qiren said, ignoring him in favor of being stuck on a much less interesting part of the evening. He sounded aggrieved. “My brother, for instance, I can understand his motivations in keeping it quiet. He is undoubtedly gathering the resources for the war against Quanjiao Liu, for which he will need to convince the sect elders and any relevant allied sects that he may wish to get involved, and that will be difficult enough without also publicly airing a family issue. Being overlooked for as long as possible can only aid him. But you…you are just keeping it quiet for now so that people will talk about you.”

“And so I can see their faces when they find out,” Wen Ruohan corrected. “That part is key.”

Lan Qiren was far too well-mannered to throw his hands up in frustration, but it was close. In retrospect, Wen Ruohan was amazed that the other man hadn’t thrown something at his head yet. There had been one time when they were rival sect leaders where Wen Ruohan had managed to drive him to it, relatively early on, and it had been so unexpected that no one had believed it had actually happened despite witnessing it with their own eyes. Even Wen Ruohan, normally the first to take offense at a perceived slight, had simply let the whole thing pass by without comment, too taken aback to be angry, and Lan Qiren had never done it again.

Really, he should have known all the way back then that Lan Qiren wasn’t nearly as boring as he appeared on the surface.

“Tell me,” he added, since Lan Qiren was starting to visibly sulk again, “is it my motivation you can’t believe, or the fact that I’ve succeeded in keeping it quiet?”

Lan Qiren paused and thought about it, and then, very begrudgingly, admitted, “The latter.”

Wen Ruohan had thought so.

“The people that drove you here were my subordinates, sworn to silence on pain of being dismissed and sent to the Fire Palace. I’ve found that to be much more effective than imposing a rule against gossip.” Wen Ruohan smirked faintly at the now extremely aggravated but not necessarily disagreeing look on Lan Qiren’s face. “I’ve similarly instructed – ”

“Threatened.”

“ – instructed the servants assigned to attend to you to recall their discretion, and all of them have admirably kept their mouths shut. I admit it might have been a little more difficult to keep it hidden if you’d remained in your own courtyard…”

Or if Lan Qiren hadn’t had that delightful misunderstanding of his own position, which was only getting funnier and funnier as time went on.

A genuine first wife, particularly a new one marrying in later, would have made a point of making herself known to her new household upon her arrival – including, for instance, by summoning all the household servants for review in order to establish her power. When Lan Qiren had first arrived, Wen Ruohan had assumed he’d do the same, though he hadn’t quite decided whether it would be for purposes of espionage or simply for the sake of propriety, going through the motions. Lan Qiren had even asked him something or another about the servants, and he’d thought that was what he had been referring to, though it turned out he’d meant something completely different. In fact, Lan Qiren had instead merely treated himself like a somewhat more honored version of the guest he’d been as acting sect leader and left all matters of the household in the hands of his “wife”…

Wen Ruohan still couldn’t think about it without wanting to laugh.

He was looking forward to enlightening Lan Qiren about his mistake at some point, but he hadn’t figured out how to do so in a way that would maximize both his enjoyment and Lan Qiren’s mortification. At the moment, it was far more fun simply to imagine increasingly outlandish scenarios by which it could happen. Some of them involved women’s dresses…

“Of course me staying here is part of your plan,” Lan Qiren huffed, though very notably he didn’t get up to leave. “And here I was thinking that you had decided to breach propriety and custom by living together simply in order to be more efficient.”

“I breach propriety and custom simply for the pleasure of doing so,” Wen Ruohan said loftily. “But naturally everything I do serves more than one purpose – and having you easily available in the mornings is certainly an immensely pleasurable benefit. In fact, I forbid you to move back until I’m done with you.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes.

“Do you have a plan for how you intend to announce it?” he asked, already resigning himself to his fate. “Eventually word will get out, regardless of your threats.”

“I could have you locked up in a place known only by myself and my most trusted subordinates,” Wen Ruohan mused, just to see if Lan Qiren would jump or shudder at the idea of even more involuntary confinement – he didn’t, but he did glare. “That would keep it quiet for quite a long time.”

“I see your spies have told you about the time I spent in seclusion,” Lan Qiren said acidly. “You can stop making jokes at any time, Sect Leader Wen. You are not especially good at them.”

Wen Ruohan put down the letter – a fairly useless one from a relatively important subsidiary sect complaining about some monster or another that they didn’t feel capable of handling, just barely important enough to require the sect leader’s attention – and gave Lan Qiren a thoughtful look.

“What makes you think I’m joking?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. He had been, of course, but Lan Qiren was familiar with his sadism and his Fire Palace. He knew perfectly well that it wasn’t beyond Wen Ruohan to order such a thing without regret. “Do you think I wouldn’t do such a thing to a member of my family?”

He would, of course. There was very little he wouldn’t do to achieve his goals.

“Do not be absurd,” Lan Qiren said impatiently, as if he thought Wen Ruohan was playing coy. “You are cruel, not careless. If you wanted to keep my presence here silent by force, you would have implemented the idea as soon as I arrived, not waited until now.”

Hmm. That was a good point.

“Maybe I wanted to maximize your suffering by letting you enjoy some freedom first. How about that?”

That just got him a full-on scoff.

Wen Ruohan had to fight down his amusement again. Lan Qiren was just as bad at making jokes as he claimed Wen Ruohan to be, but he was quite often inadvertently hilarious.

“Somehow I’m getting the feeling that you’re not enjoying my Nightless City to its fullest capacity,” he drawled. “Have you considered – ”

“If your next suggestion is that you kept me out of a prison cell in order to take advantage of me sexually, I will throw something at you.”

Wen Ruohan choked down an actual laugh this time.

“Now, if it is not too great a strain, Sect Leader Wen, would you answer the question?”

“All right, all right,” Wen Ruohan said, conceding the point, too amused to keep quibbling. “I intend for it to be announced at the next discussion conference, the one being hosted by Yunmeng Jiang.”

Lan Qiren frowned and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I doubt that Jiang Fengmian will mind being overshadowed. Still, that is a month and a half away. There will be leaks.”

“Leaks, yes, but no confirmation,” Wen Ruohan agreed. “The fact that you were previously in seclusion in the Lan sect is quite useful here – people will doubt any news they hear and seek to confirm it through your sect first, only to fail to find anything there. Even with an extraordinarily effective spy network, there’s no way they’ll be able to know for certain what happened before the discussion conference…and most sects don’t have spy networks like mine. Not even other Great Sects.”

He arched his eyebrows pointedly at Lan Qiren.

“Not all of us are like you,” Lan Qiren said. “My Lan sect does not need them.”

“And yet you always seem to know what’s going on…”

“I understand that the concept may be difficult to understand for so great a personage as yourself, but one of the reasons other sects enter into alliances with each other is to help each other understand what is going on,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “I regularly receive letters from my colleagues with updates – well, I used to receive – ”

“Same thing, different words,” Wen Ruohan said dismissively before Lan Qiren could get upset over his demotion. He had been getting increasingly antsy for lack of real work to do, these past few days; it was clear enough that the appeal of a vacation was already wearing off. Wen Ruohan was planning on holding out to see him squirm a little longer before turning over some of the less critical sect work to him.

(Obviously he wasn’t going to let one of the most talented sect leaders in the cultivation world sit around not doing anything when he could be applying those talents to the betterment of the Wen sect. He wasn’t stupid – and unlike certain other sect leaders, he wasn’t wasteful, either.)

“Having friends is hardly the same thing as having spies. Do you make the same complaints about the Nie sect?”

“No,” Wen Ruohan said, waiting for a half a beat before adding, “because the Nie sect does use spies.”

Not in every generation, of course, and not very often, but Lao Nie certainly wasn’t averse to the practice on moral grounds the way Lan Qiren clearly was. Or perhaps the Nie sect was just better at being realistic.

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes again. He’d started up his evening round of physical activity, which tended to include less sword forms and more alternative forms of exercise – Wen Ruohan’s favorite so far had involved Lan Qiren spending the majority of the evening in a handstand, occasionally shifting over into a one-armed handstand so he could write down rules that he felt he hadn’t properly lived up to. Today wasn’t anything nearly so exciting, just stretches to improve flexibility, though there was a certain appeal in that as well.

“I assume you will want me to make an appearance at the conference?” Lan Qiren asked, as if there was any chance Wen Ruohan wouldn’t. He wasn’t Qingheng-jun, to throw away a valuable asset – Lan Qiren had been able to hold his own politically at the discussion conferences before, and nothing about marriage changed his capabilities. His insights would undoubtedly be valuable, and even more valuable would be the information he’d be able to glean from his connections with sects that would never speak directly with Wen Ruohan. “I will tell you now that I will not sign up to do anything absurd in order to indulge in your penchant for dramatics.”

Wen Ruohan snorted – as if the Lan sect weren’t equally inclined towards dramatic behavior, as long as their hearts were involved! – and looked away from the appealing sight and back at his desk. He glanced over the most recent correspondence he’d picked out, finding upon second glance that it was a letter from one of his subsidiary sects to the south, complaining of an unusual increase in vicious yao; it was the sort of thing he would usually forward on to the Nie sect as an invitation and implicit proposition for their sect leader. He put it aside for the moment and took the next one, a report from one of his spies in the Jin sect about the current health of their finances (still disgustingly healthy despite Jin Guangshan’s increasing mismanagement).

“Nothing absurd, no,” he said, ignoring the way that Lan Qiren immediately grumbled something about the two of them having different definitions of absurd. “You’ll be expected to wear something in my sect’s colors, of course. I suspect that’ll be shocking enough.”

He’d already commissioned something appropriate. Lan Qiren would undoubtedly hate it.

Lan Qiren already looked resigned.

“Additionally,” Wen Ruohan continued, very casually, “I was thinking that we could use the opportunity to revive those summer classes you were always teaching.”

Silence.

Wen Ruohan carefully didn’t look up from the report in his hands, though he wasn’t actually paying it the slightest bit of attention. Getting Lan Qiren to agree to this idea was far more important.

“My…classes?” Lan Qiren sounded – confused. Good, that was a better first reaction than an outright rejection. “What about them?”

“You enjoyed teaching them, didn’t you? I see no reason why you can’t continue.” Wen Ruohan made a show of putting down the report and shrugging. “You’ll have to hold them here, of course, but I can’t see how that would be all too different from what you were doing already. Your students were mostly guest disciples, weren’t they…?”

He allowed himself to look at Lan Qiren, who’d stopped his exercises and was now frowning at him.

“You are up to something once again,” he said flatly. “What is it?”

Wen Ruohan spread his hands. “Is it so difficult to believe that I would want to do something nice for you?”

“Yes.”

Wen Ruohan was surprised into a bark of amusement. Lan Qiren wasn’t out to win his heart through flattery the way his wives had tried to do, that was for sure…but then again, unlike his wives, Lan Qiren had been Wen Ruohan’s political opponent for ten years. He knew him well enough to be skeptical. “Not even as a wedding gift?”

“Even less likely. Try again.”

“We’re going to have to live together for the rest of our lives,” Wen Ruohan said. “It would make my life miserable if you were miserable, which makes it in my own self-interest to make sure you have things to do that you enjoy. Your other hobbies seem to be cultivation with the sword, cultivation with music, and cultivation through meditation and philosophy, absolutely none of which I can do anything about.”

“That’s not true. It’s said that you’re a fine swordsman yourself, is it not? We could spar.”

…that was an excellent idea and now that Lan Qiren had proposed it, Wen Ruohan couldn’t wait to try it out. He hadn’t actually bothered using his sword against anyone in quite a while – his preference in fighting had always been arrays, but he would be embarrassed to call himself an orthodox cultivator if he didn’t know how to use a sword. The last time he’d done so would have had to have been one of his early clashes with Lao Nie, before he’d allowed himself to be convinced to pit his arrays against the other man’s saber…though that actually gave rise to some interesting thoughts itself. Lan Qiren was primarily a musician, not a swordsman; he had to know how to fight offensively with music. It had been even longer since Wen Ruohan had tested himself against a musical cultivator than since he’d picked up a sword…

He dragged his mind back to the topic of discussion. Fighting was only fighting, getting Lan Qiren to buy into his plan to win the hearts and minds of the junior generation of the cultivation world was important.

Power would always be the most important thing to Wen Ruohan.

“We can certainly do that,” he said. “But why not revive your classes as well? Past half-month aside, we’re hardly going to keep each other company forever. It would be good for you to have something productive to do.”

“I am certain you could find something else for me to do if you so wanted,” Lan Qiren said, obviously not convinced. “Were you planning on waiting until I grew so bored that I would be willing to resort to begging before assigning me some duties here?”

No, but now he was sorely tempted. Damn Lan Qiren for being smart.

“Do you not want to teach your classes, then?” Wen Ruohan asked. “You make it sound as though I’m forcing you – ”

“I enjoy my classes, and would be very happy under most circumstances to resume them,” Lan Qiren said. “What I want to know is why you are interested in my resuming them. Nothing you have said so far has been even remotely believable.”

Lan Qiren was, in fact, too smart.

“Fine,” Wen Ruohan said with a huff, rolling his eyes. Perhaps the truth would work where polite fictions had failed, that seemed like a strategy that would work well on Lan Qiren. “I think what you’ve been doing is a fine idea, and I want in on it.”

“In on my classes?” Lan Qiren shook his head. “Why? You have no interest in teaching.”

“It’s not the teaching aspect I care about.”

“Then what?” Lan Qiren frowned. “Surely not the money.”

Wen Ruohan blinked, taken aback. “Money? What money? What are you talking about?”

Now it was Lan Qiren’s turn to look confused. “The classes bring revenue, of course. Only a nominal sum, of course, and we never ask for it, but everyone always insists on paying something to cover their children’s housing and feeding costs. It is almost a little insulting at times, really. As if a Great Sect like ours couldn’t handle a few extra mouths…”

“Wait, wait,” Wen Ruohan said, mind spinning with possibilities. “Are you talking about actual money changing hands? Not just rare treasures and paintings, the sorts of things that get brought as gifts for the teacher?”

“Naturally they also bring those,” Lan Qiren said. “But yes, they insist on paying. I have always assumed it started because some of them wanted to establish a level of distance between our sects, so that they did not feel as though we were looking down at them and doing them a favor for free, and then the rest of them just picked it up in time. Why? Does it matter?”

Your sect literally receives tribute from other sects with whom you are not affiliated! Voluntarily, and without coercion! Of course that matters! Even if they started it as an insult, pretending that they were hiring you like some teacher off the street, they are still doing it, and in doing so have set the precedent to encourage others to do so. It would be one thing if it was just presents, everyone expects that as part of the teaching relationship, but a sect in a lower position giving money to another in a higher position – that’s tribute, not payment.

I can barely get my own subsidiary sects to agree to open their coffers to me because of what that would mean about the relationship between us, setting them as subordinate and me as the master in permanent fashion – and those sects have already sworn loyalty to me!

“I suppose not,” Wen Ruohan said, though judging by the increased suspicion on Lan Qiren’s face he wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending not to be interested. “You’re right, that’s not why I’m interested. But what does my motivation matter? You like your classes, you want to teach them, I’m enabling that. Why be so suspicious?”

“Overly solicitous people hide bad intentions.”

“I already explained – ”

“Sect Leader Wen, please stop treating me as though I were an idiot,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “Anyone else could plausibly say that their own self-interest lies in having a happy household, but not you. If I were making you miserable by being miserable, your answer would be to either eliminate me from your sight or send me to the Fire Palace so that I could know what true misery was.”

Wen Ruohan started laughing.

“Good, good,” he said, finding himself delighted yet again to be so…known. “Fine, have it your way. The truth, then: I think that your classes are the seeds to a ripe harvest.”

“Harvest? Of what?”

“Respect.” Wen Ruohan smirked broadly. “You have dozens of children who have bowed to you as their teacher, promising to be filial to you: a teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime. If you were to ask them for help, they would be honor-bound to at least consider it, if not to affirmatively do it – ”

“Ask them for help? They are children. What could they even do?”

“Having friends is hardly the same thing as having spies,” Wen Ruohan mimicked. “Funny how it ends up reaching the same end, though, doesn’t it? Only no one will ever suspect yours. It’s brilliant, really, and I have no idea how you managed it.”

“You are being ridiculous once more. I have hardly managed anything. You make it sound as though I pulled off some scheme behind the cultivation world’s back – which is not even remotely the case. Anyway, you are simply incorrect. Most of my students do not even like me, much less remember me fondly years later.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…”

Lan Qiren was shaking his head already, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t even gotten to the bit about how he’d suborned future sect leaders into a position of subservience to him. Not to mention the tribute!

“Ridiculous,” he announced. “Ridiculous and absurd and – ”

He was cut off by a yawn.

Wen Ruohan checked the time and smirked: sure enough, a Lan was better than a clock.

Lan Qiren could stay awake late into the evening, and often had, but it was a matter of willpower and, usually, of getting back up again. Wen Ruohan had found that even on days he’d decided to stay up late, Lan Qiren still usually fell asleep for at least a quarter-hour at his bedtime. On days he hadn’t decided in advance that he had business at night, like tonight, he fell asleep faster than a rock dropped off a cliff falling into the ocean.

“You have completely misunderstood the nature of my classes, and indeed of students. Possibly even children in general,” Lan Qiren said with dignity, pretending his eyes weren’t sliding shut. “We can discuss this further tomorrow.”

Wen Ruohan snorted and looked back down at his paperwork. “We undoubtedly will. I have no doubt that you won’t let me hear the end of this so easily…for the moment, go to sleep. I have more work to do, I’ll come to bed later.”

By the time he’d finished off the next letter, this one marginally more interesting as it dealt with a simmering situation between two sects that he’d been inciting into fighting with each other, and glanced back at Lan Qiren, the other man was fast asleep.

Wen Ruohan stood up and walked over to look down at him.

Lan Qiren had excellent sleeping habits, as one might have expected: he didn’t snore or toss around wildly, not even when he had nightmares, and he didn’t startle awake easily when there were noises or lights around him. Most of the time, he slept deeply, like the dead, and was impressively groggy if forcefully awakened prior to his official waking time.

You could be mine.

It wasn’t the first time Wen Ruohan had thought that.

Mine, really mine –

He couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

It had first come to him when he’d seen the note from Lan Qiren’s nephews, the one that had instigated his little fit of frenzy – one that was however inadvertently so wretchedly, wantonly cruel that it had knocked out even Wen Ruohan’s breath. He’d had the note preserved, of course, and it was even now waiting on the writing desk in Lan Qiren’s quarters for his return.

Naturally, Wen Ruohan was aware that that was the real reason Lan Qiren didn’t return, choosing instead to linger in Wen Ruohan’s rooms like a ghost, but as Lan Qiren had observed, it really did suit any number of his purposes that Lan Qiren stay in his rooms for now, keeping a low profile. It had even ensured that his wives hadn’t been able to cause a fuss, though he was sure that by now they desperately wanted to; he really was being shockingly inappropriate in keeping Lan Qiren with him like this. It was outrageous enough that he was favoring him every night (and sometimes during the day), but sharing a room like this was the sort of thing that only the poor or those madly in love might do.

Not that he cared.

You could be mine.

It had been the note that had revealed to him the depths of Lan Qiren’s suffering.

Wen Ruohan considered himself to be something of an expert on suffering, on the sorts of situations that could drive a man to break and shatter into a thousand pieces, irreparable, and Qingheng-jun in his revenge was clearly intent on achieving just that. He hadn’t just taken away Lan Qiren’s authority, which was always a blow to a man who’d grown accustomed to having it. No – he’d taken away Lan Qiren’s children, children Lan Qiren had raised and loved with all his heart, and based on the content of that note he was treating them without any concern as to their well-being, driving them to desperation.

Qingheng-jun had done it deliberately. Lan Qiren had to know by now that it was deliberate, and that meant that Qingheng-jun had also successfully stolen away Lan Qiren’s sense of security, his serenity, his peace of mind. He’d known that Lan Qiren would torture himself with his worries that his nephews would be suffering from his absence, whether from missing him or being mistreated or even punished, and that was why he’d done it.

And he’d taken even more from Lan Qiren than that.

The seclusion Qingheng-jun had forced Lan Qiren into, the strict seclusion of the type that Wen Ruohan knew Lan Qiren both hated and feared, had wreaked genuine havoc on Lan Qiren’s state of mind. Lan Qiren had tried to conceal it, but it was impossible at such close quarters – close inspection had revealed that he was in fact notably skinnier than he’d been at the last discussion conference, skinnier than he properly should be, and his body was littered with the remnants of old marks, some clearly self-inflicted, and healing slower than they should. Lan Qiren was an exceptional cultivator, but the body followed the mind; he reflected on his skin all of his guilt and sorrow, his grief, his torment, his internal conflict. That the fingers Wen Ruohan had broken had already healed in full while some bruises from months ago remained really said everything that needed to be said about Lan Qiren’s mental state.

Even putting aside his body, there was his behavior, which was equally concerning. There was the way Lan Qiren would at random instances go quiet and distant, as if retreating from the world; the way he would instinctively flinch or shudder at some random turn of phrase; the nightmares he had at night, quiet moans of distress tearing out of him even as he remained immobile, and the way he seemed, upon waking, to find some strange sort of comfort in Wen Ruohan’s own presence there, no matter how subtle he thought he was being about it. Even that meltdown of his, a fit of such violence that Wen Ruohan had initially thought it to be a qi deviation…

That alone was enough to catch the attention of a genuine sadist like Wen Ruohan, but it was the fact that Lan Qiren had suffered all that and gotten up after that had really gotten under his skin. He’d even apologized for the fit, embarrassed, and had continued to try to…to adapt to the new life he’d ended up with. He was as stubborn a man as Wen Ruohan had yet seen, going through all of that trauma and suffering and forcing himself to keep going. To build himself new routines to replace the old ones. To routinely have sex, an activity which he seemed to enjoy well enough but not especially yearn for, with a man he didn’t especially like.

To try to make himself over into a good husband.

Wen Ruohan had to swallow down lust just at the thought of it.

There was something unbelievably compelling about the idea of corrupting someone as pure and intrinsically good as Lan Qiren – no, even better, about making Lan Qiren corrupt himself on Wen Ruohan’s behalf.

Lan Qiren had always possessed an almost astringent purity, unforgiving and inflexible, as immovable as a mountain. It was what had made him so boring, so predictable, in all those years where the only thing he was to Wen Ruohan was a rival and a stumbling block. It was what made him so trustworthy to others, who knew that his rigidity would never let him yield to whim or favor even when it would benefit him to do so. Everyone knew that as long as his rules demanded something, Lan Qiren would do it, and gladly. No matter the cost.

It was his very rigidity meant that Lan Qiren hadn’t even thought of any solution to his present situation other than compliance. It had never occurred to him that he might just try to run away, maybe even return to Gusu to kidnap his nephews and keep them for himself, nor even that he might try to convince Wen Ruohan to take them away from them for him – no, my Lan sect will go to them one day, he’d said, when trying to explain to Wen Ruohan why he couldn’t simply abandon all consideration for the Lan sect in favor of the Wen. The Lan sect was theirs, even if it was no longer his, and therefore he had to do everything he could to support it, and them, and with them being there, even if doing so meant accepting a marriage he did not want.

Even if it meant twisting himself into something new.

Even if it meant accepting that change he so thoroughly hated.

The only thing that could truly tempt Lan Qiren away from his implacable sense of order and rule was that radical Lan heart hiding within his chest. That irrepressible love and concern he had for his nephews, for instance, or the one time he had let slip his disgust for how his sister-in-law had been treated, leading him to vow to never treat his own wife the same.

And at the moment, he believed Wen Ruohan to be his wife.

Wen Ruohan had never had a Lan before. He’d never wanted a Lan before. Those terrifying madmen hiding behind their placid façades had always worried him more than all the other Great Sects put together. To the extent he’d ever considered it, he’d always thought that their insane devotion seemed more like a burden than anything else, something that he’d get tired of and want to shake off in time or which would end up with him waking up with a knife at his throat followed by an attempt at murder-suicide. But in this case, it felt less like a burden and more like…

It felt like power.

Wen Ruohan had always been attracted to power, whether his own or in others. It had been his wives’ cunning that had attracted him to them, an attraction that disappeared as soon as they were no longer able to wield that power except through him; it had been Lao Nie’s martial valor, his ruthlessness and frankly insane recklessness, that had first caught his eye. Lan Qiren had neither skill, being neither a consummate schemer nor an especially merciless warrior. If he was anything, it was only that he was always so genuinely himself: stern, rule-abiding, conservative, moralistic, abhorring any change.

And yet, for Wen Ruohan, Lan Qiren was willing to change. To change himself for him.

Lan Qiren had admitted freely that his first instinct in the Yueyang Chang matter was to think the deal was rotten simply because the Yueyang Chang sect had connived to accomplish their goals through dirty means – that if it were up to him, if the offer had come to the Lan sect, he would have rejected it on moral grounds without thinking twice. He would never have used his astonishing command of the facts or his ability to sort through patterns that others never even noticed to come up with a solution that involved conquest, much less a better solution than the one Wen Ruohan had been considering. A solution that was wholly anathema to his own natural inclinations and priorities.

If Lan Qiren were truly free, he would never have gritted his teeth and tried to find something to compliment in Wen Ruohan’s Fire Palace, which he so obviously despised with everything that he was. That, too, was something he was doing for Wen Ruohan.

All for him. Everything for him.

You could be mine. Really mine, truly mine.

By robbing Lan Qiren of his sect position, his nephews, and even the Cloud Recesses itself, Qingheng-jun had taken away Lan Qiren’s sense of home.

Wen Ruohan had the chance to give it to him again.

And if he did, if he somehow won that wild and crazy Lan heart for his own…then Lan Qiren really would be his, wholly and utterly, without reserve. That same rigidity that refused to let him do so much as lie even when it was for his own benefit would at once be turned into the most unbending loyalty, unflinching and unimpeachable. He would value Wen Ruohan more than anything, excepting only his nephews, who were the same as his sons, and that was an exception even Wen Ruohan found perfectly reasonable. If he won him over…

If he won him over, Lan Qiren could – he would – be a person that even Wen Ruohan, deeply paranoid and often justified in being so, might be able to trust.

Someone who he could trust to be by his side, rather than beneath his feet.

He’d never had that before. Not really.

When they had lived, his brothers and sisters had all had their own interests, even the ones he’d liked the most. Even today, despite his authority being unquestionable, his kinsmen still schemed against him, scrabbling for little bits of power wherever they could eke it out…it would be one thing if they were just trying to make their own ways in the world instead of just following his, but more often it was nothing more than greed and laziness, a feeling of entitlement to power without the willingness to put in all the work it took to get it.

His wives were untrustworthy and duplicitous, and although he liked that about them, it certainly didn’t allow for much faith in them; they would both happily stab him in the back if it got them what they wanted, just the way his first wife did. And just like the first time around, his children followed their mothers. Wen Xu and Wen Chao were at present too young to really evaluate, but from what he’d seen so far of them, they were simply too weak to really stand up beside him instead of merely cringing before him.

His subordinates and disciples…well, they revered him, as they should, but a sense of overpowering awe did not leave room for equality. They would never match him or challenge him, and neither did he want them to; it would only lead them to act like his kinsmen, seeking to scheme to undermine him for their own purposes.

For the same reason, he did not put any stock in friends or allies – he supposed there was Lao Nie, who as his lover was closer to him than most, but even Lao Nie had his saber and his sect and his own interests that he put above Wen Ruohan, not to mention those two wives of his that he’d married without so much a word of notice.

In fact, Lao Nie was a perfect example. Each instance of Lao Nie’s obvious carelessness had driven Wen Ruohan up the wall, infuriating him, and even now it itched under his skin like a scab not yet healed. How dare the other man treat him like that, disregarding him to the point of not even telling him of what was going on in his life? How dare he act as if it was none of Wen Ruohan’s business what he did? Never mind that they’d both agreed from the start not to take their liaison too seriously, each one there for nothing more than a good time; frivolity and lack of caring was Wen Ruohan’s prerogative, not Lao Nie’s. That was why they’d grown more distant these past few years, their encounters fewer and generally less satisfying, more fraught, even at times contentious. Wen Ruohan deserved his lover’s devotion, true devotion, and yet that was exactly what Lao Nie would never give him…

Lan Qiren, though.

If Wen Ruohan could get him, he could be everything that Lao Nie was not.

He could be mine.

Wen Ruohan wanted that. And what he wanted, he got. Only…how?

How could he convince Lan Qiren to devote himself to him and only him? Did he need to push him harder, make him break under cruelty and humiliation? Send him to the Fire Palace to forcefully remake him in the image he yearned for? Or did he need to take a softer touch, gently coaxing him into a sense of security and slowly, giving him all the things and experiences and maybe even people that he yearned for, but at the same time inexorably moving the pieces out from under his feet until he had no choice but to become what Wen Ruohan wanted him to be?

What was the key that would get it to actually work this time, where it hadn’t with his lost brother, where it hadn’t with his first wife, where it hadn’t with Lao Nie? How could he get what he actually wanted?

All good things ought to belong to him, after all. It was just a matter of figuring out the details and being patient – and Wen Ruohan was good at being patient.

He’d start off with the gentle approach, he thought, and shelve the idea of breaking Lan Qiren for now. Once a man was broken, there was no unbreaking him, but it was always easy enough to pick back up later if he needed to. He’d give Lan Qiren a chance to live up to what he wanted, and if not…well. He had other options.

The Fire Palace was always there.

Wen Ruohan reached out and ran his fingers along Lan Qiren’s forehead ribbon.

Do not allow those without permission to touch your ribbon, which is your self-restraint.

Wen Ruohan smiled.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Man oh man I just spent the last three days reading your Speedrunner's guide to romance AND LET ME TELL YOU. I CRIED. I FUCKING CRIED. I'M CRYING RIGHT NOW AS I'M TYPING THIS OUT AND I'M SO THANKFUL I DON'T HAVE A WORD LIMIT RN.

Like- the way you write Levi IS SO ON POINT. You're the second person in the fandom that I found that writes him just so... Realistically and loyal to the way he is in game and in lore??? He feels like such a real person through your words and I fell inlove with him all over again, also you're hilarious, I was laughing at 4 am on my bed all giddy and also so frustrated and SAD but then he was just- himself and it was like my heartbreak didn't matter at all because his eyes were so pretty and hearing him talk about anything was a treat and IT WAS ALL SO PERFECT.

I want you to know that you alone have convinced me to start one piece because of how cool your fic made it sound, honestly my absolute FAVORITE reference was the "I want to win!" And to bare myself open to you? I screamed and felt such raw emotion course through my body, I have never felt such greater love, pride and admiration for Levi in the entire time I've been playing since 2020, you made him look so absolutely cool in his broken apart manner, that's what I love about him that even though he's thoroughly flawed and incredibly insecure he pushes through regardless and you've shown him like that!!! Like the part about him I love the most!! If I was mc honestly when he chose ME over picking Lucifer in that scene I would throw myself to him in a hug because my love was exploding within myself and I just needed to embrace him, absolute best part will read the entire fic again.

I feel like I never want to stop talking about it and how much I've loved it, and to be honest? I'm gonna get a bit personal here, because writing and art are always personal, I can tell you gave something of yourself into this fic and I want to return that vulnerability with a bit of mine, I've been liking a guy for a while, and since December last year we've been becoming increasingly closer even though we met in April, we're classmates at college and in my specific career we have to work in duos every week and we always choose each other, we have both voiced that we don't wanna work with anybody else, we're both bi, I have a preference for women and he has a presence for men which makes this all the funnier, but anyways I just, while reading your fic not only was I absolutely loving Levi but I was occasionally reminded of how I feel about my crush, and to be honest I do think he sees me as a best friend LMAO so your fic hit a bit too close to home as of now, and after finishing your fic and texting my crush for a bit, I decided that im confessing! This Thursday he comes over for some studying, he'll stay the night and before he goes to bed I want to be completely honest about all of my emotions, I'm scared of rejection, part of myself tells me he will reject me while the other part says "DON'T SAY THAT DON'T MAKE IT TRUE HE JUST MIGHT LIKE ME BACK" so I'm a bit of a mess, it's so funny because I haven't really dated anyone irl before so I'm as excited as I am anxious, anyways yeah!! Your work impacted my life, just wanted to tell you that! I'm so glad other people out there love Levi as much as I do!

PD: if you want, I could text you through here his response to my confession!

OH MY GOODNESS HELLO THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! For real, I'm so unbelievably overjoyed to hear that Speedrunner's had such an emotional impact on you, as it certainly contains my entire heart. It's a fic that is very special to me and it seriously means the ENTIRE WORLD to me that it resonated with you. Thank you SO MUCH for sharing your thoughts with me! You are so sweet! I always recommend One Piece. It is a massive hit for a reason, but it definitely requires patience! If you do start, keep me updated 👀 AND AWWWWW I LOVE THIS LITTLE STORY LEADING TO YOUR CONFESSION!!! Friends to Lovers is the best, tbh. GOOD LUCK GOOD LUCK!!! Regardless of what happens, I am proud of you for being honest with your feelings! You are clearly a super cool and mature person though, so I bet it'll go well! PLEASE let me know!!! Thank you again for reaching out! This made my day <3

[seventeenlovesthree]

You know, one thing about getting older, at least for me, is the realization that keeping up that whimsical spirit is hard. Very hard.

I have spent the past four years trying to maintain routines in regards to self-care and, while it worked out well for a period of time, the "noise" out there is very persistent to break your habits. By "noise", I don't just mean the world out there, the constant stream of social media providing you with news and tragedies, a ruthless algorithm that is very hard to avoid if you're seeking that little serotonin streak out there. Yes, I agree that our attention spans have been pretty much messed up and that it's VERY difficult to get back to some... Quiet.

That's why the noise basically refers to everything - your social life, family, friends, partners, acquaintances, colleagues, all the people out there, but also the things you surround yourself with. Habits, food choices and sleeping rhythms, once again, the media you consume while trying not get consumed by it...

I keep going on about how I had re-started drawing back in 2021 after a rough 10-year-break in which I simply didn't feel like drawing at all. I was occupied with other things during time - and if you're familiar with my tumblr, you know that that's been heavily related to football. I loved my clubs, I loved by NT and for the longest time, I could get by despite the set-backs and bad developments surrounding it. Right now I am staring at my PC and am slowly but steadily realizing that basically all the players that led me towards football have retired. Either just from the NT or completely. There are players, relatable figures, people I (used to) look up to, that inspired me, that brought be through the day, week, month, year. It was a fun time. But then the "noise" took over. The people I rambled with ended up just as frustrated and left. Only a few of them are left, but the majority - me included - has moved on to other things. Why? Because it had become too draining, too negative. The bubble had popped, several figures in the business had turned out to be unbelievably "bad people" (I'll keep this PG), things were so commercialized, unfamiliar and just... Opportunistic. The "whimsical spirit" was so hard to maintain and even if this Summer provided a little spark, it still feels alienating. There is still a glimpse of hope, but, again, you REALLY have to hold onto that.

The same goes for my other "fandoms" to be honest. Don't get me wrong, I still have fun sitting in my little corner and draw, write and create little things - even if it's mostly for myself, sometimes I do wonder why interactions have become so scarce. The atmosphere on social media is incredibly... Empty sometimes. I'm not just saying that because a lot of people have not grasped the reblogging system on this site. You may have heard the concept of people being overexposed by the neverending stream of art, "content" being thrown at them from all sides... It's become more of a product to consume than a thing to look at and enjoy and savour. And I feel that myself. I used to save fanart to my phone and computer and find myself looking at it countless times. I still do that with several art pieces, but... I assume it's because the brain has become somewhat tired that we cannot appreciate it like we used to.

Everything is just... Happening too fast and I feel like I need to have a detox every now and then. My brain still craves the serotonin of seeing new, beautiful art. But to get there, I have to get through a sea of things that get me anxious. Even with filters, even with blocking things I don't wanna see... It's not the same.

The same also applies to media in general - I'm currently in a fandom of a series that's kinda "walking on air". There is the possibility of a new animation being planned out there somewhere, somewhen, maybe... But a part of me isn't even sure if I want something "new". Consider myself "old" when I say this, but a lot of things that come out these days, sequels, reboots, remakes of things I used to enjoy as a kid... Simply don't hit the same way anymore. There's a reason why I find myself rewatching the old stuff over and over again and often have quite a mixed relationship with more recent things. EVA is one of the few franchises that, in my opinion, managed to get to a satisfying ending after ALL these years, but I am TERRIFIED for the new Madoka movie. I haven't even dared to look at Sailor Moon Cosmos, simply because I know my brain is tainted by how much enjoyed the 90s anime and how much of a clusterf*ck Crystal/Eternal/Cosmos has been for the past ten years... On the same note, do we really need a One Piece remake? And Digimon? I would loathe the idea of an Adventure remake... Because it would not only contradict the messages of the previous entries of the series; move on but keep the things you love close to you... It would simply not... Satisfy me. A part of me wants to see how the OG timeline goes on, but what if there'll be things to contradict it all even more? Do I want things to go on for the sake of keeping the nostalgia alive, even though the fear of mischaracterizations is very real? Do I really want the milking of the cash-cow to continue? To hunt for breadcrumbs? The commercialisation and... Opportunism? And why does it feel like I've heard that before...?

I don't want to end this post on a negative note. I'm gonna turn 34 in a few weeks, I've been into TV shows and had my hyperfocus topics basically since I was like 7 or so. I might always find things that keep the whimsical spirit alive to some degree. But I need to remind myself to not let the "noise" get too loud every once in a while.

[phantomdialogue]

˗ˏˋ. ݁₊ ✶ ˖ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 - 𝟒.𝟕𝟓/𝟓 ☆ . ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

“She’s everything I ever wanted and I want to inject her into my veins and also to never see her again.”

Premise: Bee Königswasser lives by a simple code: What would Marie Curie do? If NASA offered her the lead on a neuroengineering project - a literal dream come true - Marie would accept without hesitation. Duh. But the mother of modern physics never had to co-lead with Levi Ward, who made his feelings toward Bee very clear in grad school - archenemies work best employed in their own galaxies far, far away. Bee could swear she sees Levi softening into an ally, backing her plays, seconding her ideas... devouring her with those eyes. The possibilities have all her neurons firing.

Couple: Levi Ward and Bee Königswasser

Tropes: rivals to lovers, friends to lovers, workplace romance, second chance romance (to an extent), boy obsessed, opposites attract, grumpy x sunshine, forced proximity

Content Warnings: misogny, gender stereotyping, very mild violence, talks about death and unhealthy family dynamics, miscommunication

Review Below!

Review:

Oh man… I don’t know why I was so determined that I wasn’t going to read this book for a while. It just didn’t catch my attention but oh I’m so unbelievably glad my friend convinced me to read it. This is one of my favorite Ali Hazelwood books now. It made me laugh and blush and admittedly, in a weaker moment, cry. This felt like such a perfect STEM romance as we know Ali Hazelwood is capable of and then she elevated it to a level of trope-filled fun that I just loved every second of. 

Levi Ward… you have bewitched me mind, body, and soul. I have no words about Levi. I don’t know how to even rank him in my annual book boyfriend ranking. Levi is the perfect level of all the kinds of boyfriends you could want to read about just like he is with the kinds of guys listed in the book. I mean who in their right mind doesn’t fall for the 6’4”, built like a refrigerator, cat-dad, who’s a little grumpy and emotional? He’s perfect. He might be my favorite Ali Hazelwood MMC… which is saying a lot for me… well, okay. He’s tied with Jack Smith Turner. 

Bee is also a whole lot of fun as an FMC. While I can understand why people might find her frustrating with her whole inability to accept that she likes Levi and wants more, I think it does fit her character immensely and so I found myself okay with it honestly. Her voice is fun and lighthearted and I enjoyed how there are often times where the book reads similar to what you might expect her journal to sound like. The plot takes a crazy turn but also part of me found it believable. Obviously a bit hyperbolic perhaps but not insanely out of the question. It kept me on the edge of my seat right till the end. 

Overall, I am so pleasantly shocked by just how much I loved this book. My main critiques just come down to some of the artistic choices in the book that really stick out at time (galaxy leggings… Ali, I love you but that was a choice) and kind of make you cringe a little bit. Maybe the ending felt a tiny bit rushed but even then, it felt good and it was a very satisfying ending. Ali Hazelwood, please never stop writing. I can inhale her writing like crack and it’s one of my favorite things in the world. 

My Ratings:

Characters - 4.75 ☆ - believable, diverse representation, multilayered, relatable

Plot - 4.5 ☆ - addictive, cliched, gripping/exciting, satisfying conclusion

Setting - 4.5 ☆ - realistic, setting fits the story, unique location

Writing Style - 4.75 ☆ - funny, original, witty