#I just had a sudden desire to write this cx

[yeetlinglaozus]

that ChengXian w i p you posted with that one ask was soooo good. is there any chance you could share more?? 🙏🥺

DBALIJXKANM thank you! How nice and lovely of you to think my careless writings are worthy of praise. I am but a bug. 

I’m just gonna blanket reply to both of these since they’re in the same strain, if that’s cool with you, Grey Faced Friends. 

I have 5 wips currently. 3 wangxian and 2 chengxian. Other than that I think my To-Write list is at a solid 22 items, which is, wowza and yikes all at once. My brain doesn’t enjoy being restrained to focus on one thing at a time, so I tread tricky waters in trying to distinguish which fic I’m mentally capable of working on per writing session. Most times it ends up being all or none and a lot of time wasted on here. 

I am willing to post another snippet here, ‘Non, just bear with me and know that the majority of my CX fic has yet to be revised and is not the finished product that I will post when it comes time for me to make that a thing. Also, I have to choose mild pieces to showcase so that I avoid spoiling my own stories so please excuse the absence of anything really savory. 

If asked to encapsulate Cloud Recesses and the oh so esteemed Lans that inhabit the mountain, Jiang Cheng would pick boring. Unbearably fucking boring. The kind of boring that makes his numbed brain white out at the edges of his thoughts and spread. It branches through his body, claiming limbs and muscles and leaving his skin itself feeling like stale static. He’s almost concerned that even his blood has slowed in his vessels, unable to flow free and hot with the activity and pacing of Yunmeng. 

It’s no surprise to him that Wei Wuxian has such trouble keeping his eyes open and mind alert in such an environment, can sympathize with the twitchy way his body fidgets when he does manage it. Still, it wouldn’t do him any favors to not do his damned best to provide a model example to his idiot shixiong and present a faultless appearance to Lan Qiren and the rest of the elegant Lan disciples around him. Wei Wuxian may be free to be a fool both privately and publicly, but Jiang Cheng is the heir apparent to Lotus Pier and the Yunmeng Jiang Sect and has no such luxuries in his offer. He’s loathe to think of the consequences awaiting him if he makes a disgrace of their clan and the way a’niang’s Zidian would feel landing heavily on his back. 

Lan Qiren is intoning on and on about some such righteous and proper way of cleansing resentment, pacing back and forth and Jiang Cheng can’t help but think that the way his long white robes trail behind him is some sort of optical hypnosis. The more he tracks the pull and trail of those horrible robes, the more distant his head feels from his body and more disruptive his mind becomes to alleviate it.  He would rather be anywhere but here, doing anything but sitting on numb legs and dizzy with the sheer lacking of stimuli. 

His mind drifts while he maintains his facade of paying attention. He does a mental assessment of himself, ensuring that he isn’t in danger of looking anything other than diligent and determined. They linger on the fading pains of bruises scattered across his skin beneath his gauzy Gusu-esque robes. Jiang Cheng idly considers pressing on one that is located high on his ribcage, left behind by a particularly vicious bite from Wei Wuxian less than a week ago. He considers it, imagines the bloom and rush of tampered dregs of pain that would flood up from the action and the way it would alleviate his boredom. He doesn’t, however, think it is exactly a grand idea to get himself hot, hard, and flustered mid-lecture, and so subsides that desire as quick as it had come. 

The give and take of that thought exchange is enough to wake him and raise his level of attention, but it’s arguably dangerous for him to entertain any further ideas of bruises and Wei Wuxian’s mouth on his body. Jiang Cheng adjust his position, bites back the wince he feels at the sudden flurry and rush of blood in his legs after having been still for so long. His muscles twitch and his skin itches from the inside out and it’s all extremely horrible and frankly Jiang Cheng fucking hates Gusu, the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Qiren’s long-winded tirades. 

He’s close to his limit and can feel his patience fraying at the ends, is moments away from swearing aloud when he feels a weak tug at the edge of his sleeve. Jiang Cheng’s eyes roll before he even looks down to see a paperman skittering down into his lap from the table. Leave it to Wei Wuxian to know he’s on the absolute precipice of losing his mind and sending his consciousness to come toy and play with him. Figures. 

With a surreptitious glance to where Wei Wuxian is seated beside him Jiang Cheng affirms that, indeed, the idiot is slightly slumped over and appearing as if sleeping in class. “What do you want?” he whispers lowly, cautious and more alert than he’s felt the entire day spent sitting on his ass in this pavilion. 

[roscgcld]

It's "just five more minutes of sleep" just "one more chocolate chip cookie" I had toooo, I had to keep reading 😩 how do I know your writing won't suddenly sprout legs and run off??? 😶 Haha XD You 🤝 Me "if I don't include Good Teacher (read: dad) Gojou content then what's the point?" hELLO??? TEARS ;-; (gonna try and make my own response as vague as possible cause spoilers) even when THAT is happening he chose to use those last seconds to reassure her and says *that* and know I Am Emotional

there is a lot of asks from this cute anon so am gonna make it long. also there are some spoilers, so read with your own caution~

(Continued) 😭 tried to keep it limited to one ask since I don't know if you accept multiple parts but here we are. Yeah mental trauma can be heavy, and oh that bit with Maki fits in perfectly since we didn't see what happened in between, how some characters got from point A to point C (like in ch 137, that was so sudden) (or we did see and I just forgot, I just remember where we left off with them mid-arc and then seeing them post-arc)

(Continued) "whacked" is such interesting word choice considering~ you. you know how it went. It brings to mind the image of whacking someone gently over the head with a newspaper. I am both laughing and crying. Ahhhh, you did not hold back. Aw daydreamer-chan it doesn't stop there 😭 I really feel for her, gosh, I just want HUGS. Even if 1/2 a hug. (I'm sorry) One day 😔 *plays kazoo sadly* dream a little dream, of a happy little scene, where you're here with me~ ✨ together for infinity~ 🌌🌏🌖

(Continued) Don't worry about the rambles, I love listening to people go off about their ideas!! Even better if u have fun with your own stories! Aksks and well 👉👈 what is a writer, if part of our souls don't desire whump content or to watch the struggle to win and getting back up again. That stuff is cool! I've sent you four asks already so I'll tell you in a new one! Ah shoot wait won't that end up having spoilers too if I go into detail ;-; can it be hidden under the cut?

Honey I am not going anywhere as of now loool - so all my works are always here for you to binge whenever you want cx fear not haha!

And okay see - yes Gojo is an ass, and I make that very clear every time I write for him cause let’s be honest here; he pisses everyone off AHAHHAA. BUT - he still does care for his students. I think that is very obvious. So I always try to make it so that I make that part of him shine through more cause that just makes me feel all happy and soft inside cx

I felt that it was the most accurate way to write them meeting up once more cause for me, she sort of just runs about the station not sure of where to go lol so i felt like it was the most fitting way for them to meet up once more. plus, it causes the most trauma for her in one go. AND OKAY SEE - that was the first phrase that came into mind okay? When I first read it I thought “well shit, Nanami got whacked by Mahito” and that is how i describe it to everyone lol. Friends who get into the manga will always hate me cause they thought the same thing too cx

I get that honestly - however I realise here on tumblr there are a portion of readers who are not happy when I explore? Like i mentioned yesterday that I was interested in exploring a more darker writing AU cause of an official art I saw, and I thought “Maybe putting them into a Mafia!AU would be cool.” Cause the in the Mafia!AU world, you gotta think really deep and dark for certain parts, and it interests me a lot. But then some random anon decided to say that I am sick and I need help - and it’s the few reasons why I wonder why I share the things I write lol. If I can’t write the things I am interested in, and people are going to go out of their way to try and like, make a huge deal out of it, I just rather not sometimes lol. Cause am a very pessimistic person. I get discouraged easily cause of some things that happened when I was younger, so sometimes I have to remind myself that I am writing myself and no one else. But I also get discouraged lol. Idk maybe I am just being too hard on myself but I just, I just start to talk down on myself and agree with the ‘haters’ cause I still don’t know what possessed me to hit post on my first ever headcanon HAHAHA

[aiupenn]

Megane

Sometimes Dazai squints and Ranpo wants to put in the bare minimum effort to help him out.

[a/n: Based on some truly fantastic fan-art by @theunlimitedskye! Since Tumblr won’t put your stuff in the tag if you have a link in your post, I suppose you’re just going to have to scroll through her art to find the one it’s based on. cx If you’re a Daran shipper, definitely check their blog out (and even if you don’t tbh. I love their art TwT). Thanks for letting me write a little drabble based on it, lovely.]

Ranpo wasn’t the type to share. He was selfish by nature (likely owing to the fact he was an only child). More than that, though, he hadn’t taken well to adulthood and the innate desire to clutch everything belonging to him close to his chest and yell out ‘mine!’ at anyone who approached was often overwhelming. So, the thought that he ought to let Osamu borrow his glasses took him by surprise.

Ranpo wasn’t entirely sure when he’d first noticed that Osamu tended to squint his eyes when reading. It had to have started when he started to notice everything about Osamu--about a month ago. Nothing in particular had brought it on, other than the way he noticed Osamu staring at him once when he thought no one else was looking.

The squinting had been at the bottom of the list of ‘notices’, so it’d been information sorted away as ‘for later’. There’d been more important things, like how attractive he happened to look when he lounged at his desk, stretching his torso long like he hoped someone would be looking.

However, as Ranpo had been staring at Osamu for the better part of an hour, that information had moved from ‘for later’ to ‘is he okay?' Osamu may be very blurry from this distance without his glasses, but Ranpo could see the crease in his brow every time he picked up a paper only to sigh and shove it aside to procrastinate for another ten minutes.

Ranpo took one last suck of his lollipop, then pulled it out with a pop. “Dazai! Get over here,” he said, shoving the lollipop back in his mouth so that Osamu would know there was no room for argument.

His eyes closed just in time for Osamu to (hopefully) remain unaware of his staring. Osamu let out an annoyed sound, but the sound of him standing and coming closer meant that he didn’t really care that much. “Mr. Ranpo,” Osamu whined, “It’s too hot to be making me walk around.” It was barely above 20°C in the office.

“You’ll thank me,” Ranpo said with a slightly triumphant smile, “I’m being very helpful! Hold still.”

Ranpo debated for a moment whether or not it was worth it to stand, but it was useless to try and reach Osamu’s face from a sitting position he quickly realized.

He leapt to his feet and produced his glasses from his pocket, sliding them gently onto Osamu’s face. “There! All better now!” he said with pride at his generosity.

Ranpo couldn’t see Osamu's reaction, but he could feel it. Every muscle in the man stiffened, and he clearly sucked in a breath and held it. His cheeks were unbelievably warm. Could he be blushing?

Ranpo pulled away instantaneously, shocked by the reaction of his own heart giving nearly painful flutterings he barely understood. His eyes opened a little in surprise as he tried to register the sudden, strong feelings overwhelming his chest.

It was the worst possible thing he could’ve done.

Osamu Dazai was not a logical or entirely predictable man. Even the great genius Ranpo Edogawa understood that the idea of ever understanding him was at best improbable and at worst impossible. One such unpredictable landmine Ranpo had not at all planned to hit today was how stunningly attractive Osamu was in glasses.

Perhaps it was the way it emphasized his golden brown eyes, or how they magnified his soft expression, but whatever it was caused Ranpo’s heart to effectively skip a beat. There was also the slight issue that Osamu was blushing. His cheeks had an unfamiliar red hue, something he must’ve allowed because otherwise Osamu would not be caught blushing right up to the very day he died. Which begged the question, why did he let Ranpo see his blush?

Ranpo swallowed--knowing Osamu would see him staring, knowing that it wasn’t entirely platonic--and then physically had to tear his eyes away.

Oh Hell, why wouldn’t his heart stop pounding?

Ranpo sucked in as subtle a breath as he could manage, willing his cheeks to cool. He couldn’t begin to explain what had just passed between them and that spooked him a bit. He was so rarely lost for words.

“I can’t see a single thing,” Osamu remarked with amusement, breaking the awkward silence Ranpo had initiated.

Ranpo struggled to recover. “That’s not my problem,” he said with a pouty frown, “Get your own glasses.” He flopped down into his seat, arms crossed and looking for all the world like a petulant child.

“Thank you,” Osamu said, humor thick in his voice. Then, a warm hand came to hover over Ranpo’s heart as Osamu slipped the glasses back into his pocket.

There were several moments of panic as Ranpo realized that Osamu must be able to feel his racing heartbeat. And the bigger issue was that the skin below where he touched burned and Ranpo wanted badly to lean into it. To lean into Osamu.

"You’re so helpful, Mr. Ranpo,” Osamu said in a teasing tone, “I don't know what I’d do without you.”

Ranpo floundered, barely able to come up with a cohesive thought for the first time in his life. What was this feeling? What was the tightness in his chest? The ache in his lungs? He let his eyes slide open again and he met Osamu’s gaze, an action that clearly took Osamu by surprise. He stared back expectantly.

But Ranpo didn’t know what to say. His ability didn’t explain anything. Instead, he was just staring into bewitching brown eyes that he was suddenly sure he could drown in if given half a chance.

Was this…?

“You’d die,” Ranpo said plainly, pointedly looking away and closing his eyes once more.

“Huh?” Osamu said, the first time Ranpo had heard him sound confused.

“You’d die without me,” Ranpo said as if it was definitive fact.

There was a long pause and then the slight sound of a soft giggle. “Yes. I suppose I would,” he said.

And then he was gone and Ranpo felt the loss of his warmth so acutely, he thought he must be sick.

He’d never been in love before. Never. So that’s why he hadn’t recognized it. But now that he had... Well, it was very complicated indeed.