#a foolish undertaking

[hallowed-somnolence]

ive decided to go back through my entire blog and properly organise with tags! why? im bored and tired and stuck in bed and also very stupid

[periodicinspiration]

Spatterdock Pond

Many have wasted lives and lifetimes on the quest for the fountain of youth. No such chase ever appealed to me; it seemed like such a foolish undertaking. However, as happenstance would have it, my journeys led me to stumble upon this enchanting pond of velvety, shimmering cocoa. What a delectable spectacle for my eyes to behold! In that delicious moment, I realized THIS was the true source of…

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to the Absolute Monarchy

As there are many breeds of government, there are equally as many species of monarchy. Today, we will be learning about the concept of absolute monarchy and how we can write them within our WIPs.

What is Absolute Monarchy?

Absolute monarchy is when the monarch controls the country, the government and the people alone. The monarch has all power, militarily and politically. Their word is law, they control everything. They have governments, they have advisors and councillors but at the end of the day, they are the last word on every matter.

Perks of Being a Despot an Absolute Monarch

It's really a no brainer. Ultimate power, ultimate control and importance. Who wouldn't want that? Nobody can tell you what to do. Nobody can stop you making decisions you feel are right. Nobody can prevent you from doing mad shit like:

Riding a horse across the Bay of Baiae

Building a vast palace on a swamp that almost bankrupts your realm and kills a shit load of people

Constantly invade France for the lols

Declare war on the sea

Rig the Olympics

The Downsides of Absolute Monarchy

Most people would but absolute monarchy comes at a price. If you're the most powerful person in the kingdom, and every choice and decision is yours, then every mistake, every bad decision, every single thing is your fault. The crops failed? Your agricultural legislation. Your people are starving? You're starving them. No accommodation? That's a nice palace you got there, shame if somebody were burn you inside that fucking palace, huh? The thing about absolute power is that it corrupts and unchecked, anybody can become a monster. And of course, people don't generally like monsters.

When Absolute Monarchy Goes Wrong

When you are alone on top, all the hatred and ire is fixed on you. And people don't generally like the idea of one person deciding their fate, especially when they are forced into silence. The French Revolution, the Russian Revolution, the English Civil War all at the heart were conflicts of an Absolute Monarchy vs those under it. With the growth of different political parties and idealogies, the modern era has seen the abolishing of absolute monarchies. Monarchies had to adapt or die out and today, there are only a handful left. An absolute monarch ought to never forget that while they have all the power, that could be the key to their unravelling. The Tsars of Russia found this out the hardwayAn absolute monarch who pays attention to the climate around them and knows when to quit, is one that may be able to survive.

The Right Person vs The Wrong Person

There's no logical reason to leave the fate of millions in the hands of one person, that is even more dangerous when that person is a buffoon. If one is going to do this foolish thing, the person who takes that responsibility and duty will have to be decesive, pragmatic, strong, able to think on their feet, organised, passionate. They must be able to make the right choice, no matter the consequences. They must have the fortitude to lead their country to stability during all troubles. Anything else, could lead them and the country to disaster. Yes, it's an impossible undertaking but some have managed it well enough to be called successful.

[enmi-land]

#000. PART ONE TEASER

𝓘.──── . . . 𝑀𝗂𝗅𝖺, 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌.

✉️ XO ⸝ MiLA ❪ TEASER ❫ ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ EVENTUAL POLY!OT⑧ 𓈃 TEASER WORD COUNT : 3.4k (FiNAL WORD COUNT : 5-10k) ꗃ ❛ KOR, ENG, JP, CHi ❜ 𝅄CONTAINS. alcohol, jealousy, minor angst, mila is a brat and a bitch (she gets better i promise)

𝓵etters to you. 𓆩♡𓆪 i ⋆ ii ⋆ iii ⋆ iv . . ,

꒰ NOTE ✦ Sorry for the wait but the teaser is finally here! Also, for the sake of the Milaverse, we’re pretending that the COVID lockdown either doesn’t exist, or is over by the beginning of 2022. (It’s up to you which one it is.)

IF FALLING IN LOVE IS SUPPOSED TO HURT, Mila wishes that cupid would have just shot her in the head and not the heart. 

All of Mila’s childhood crushes feel like child’s play compared to this. This ache in the centre of her chest—the tight squeeze around her heart, as if someone’s hand is her ribcage and has their fist wrapped around it. And what did she expect? It’s such a foolish thing to do—falling in love. She knows this.

But like a fool, she fell anyway.

The night has no life left to it—or at least none that Mila can find anyway. The alcohol tastes bitter and even the sound of her upbeat girl group songs in the background doesn’t make it any sweeter.

Mila ignores a warning from Kiara beside her and drinks another glass of soju. The older female has been on her case the entire dinner, and—to spare Mila the impending hangover tomorrow morning, and the embarrassment of anything she may do in her drunken state—has been valiantly attempting to limit the amount of alcohol she consumes.

A difficult undertaking when Mila is determined to drink until she can’t even remember her own name.

Tonight was supposed to be a good one. The collaboration she and Kiara participated in with a senior girl group, Lumine, is sure to bring fresh eyes to their group, and the dinner they were invited to by the said girl group was meant as a friendly way to celebrate their joint success.

She should have known there would be ulterior motives involved.

Mila had eagerly invited her male co-members (the legal ones, anyway, considering there were drinks involved) upon their suggestion, and realised too late that it had been for their own interests rather than Mila and Kiara’s, like they originally said. The Lumine members were all too happy to latch on to them, giggling and batting their eyelashes at them like they were innocent schoolgirls acting coy around their crush.

Well, they’re much too old to be schoolgirls—and much too old for her members. Not that it stopped them from eyeing them like candy.

“You didn’t mention how handsome your members are,” one of them had said upon their arrival. As if Enhypen aren’t idols whose photos are all over the internet, and as if they didn’t suggest inviting them to this dinner so they could have a chance to talk to them.

But that doesn’t seem to matter too much, since most of her male co-members were flattered enough by their extra attention to indulge their flirting more than they’re obligated to.

Well, good for them. At least they’re having fun.

Mila flips a piece of pork on the ignored grill in front of her, and stuffs it into her mouth without caring if it will burn her tongue or not. It tastes burnt, but it’s not like she’s eating for the flavour anymore. Any reminders her manager might have given her about maintaining her diet are lost to her right now.

She can always burn it off in the gym later, just as she always has. This thing she’s feeling in her chest, however, is a different kind of burn than she’s used to.

“You must like going to the gym often,” Mila hears Yerin, the visual of the group, say. “I can tell.”

Mila braves a glance in the older woman’s direction and sees her looking Sunghoon up and down appreciatively. And she can’t blame her. The gains from his hours in the gym can’t be hidden even by the jacket he wears.

Mila has to say, though, that she does envy Yerin in a way. She may not be a traditional visual, but her siren-like gaze is nothing short of hypnotic. The confidence which she can voice her appreciation is something Mila wishes she could have.

Sunghoon clears his throat to mutter a shy, “Thanks.”

Mila doesn’t realise she’s staring so intently until he looks up and catches her gaze, the small smile on his face freezing slightly at whatever expression she’s wearing. She quickly looks down at her cup again, avoiding the questioning look he sends. Instead she eats a small piece of kimchi, chewing on it longer than it needs to be as a weak attempt to seem busy.

Mila decides to tune out of that conversation, before she overhears something she doesn’t want to.

Mila can see Jake stand from the corner of her eye. His seat is between her and Jay, but despite being close, they haven’t had much conversation tonight. So she certainly doesn’t expect him to suddenly lean in close, overwhelming her senses with the scent of his cologne and the feeling of his warm breath on her cheek.

“Did you want anything?” he asks in a whisper.

Mila can feel the way her cheeks start to warm, and shakes her head rapidly to hide them from him. “I’m good.”

She hadn’t even registered his question. Not until there are other voices piping up.

“Thanks again, Jaeyun-ah,” Yui says with a smile. It’s clear that she’s the youngest because she has no difficulty adding a cutesy lilt to her voice. Even more impressive, she actually manages to make it sound natural, and not at all cringey or forced.

Mila almost flinches at the casual use of Jake’s name. It’s been a long time since she’s called him that herself, but only because no one else did, and she didn’t want to be too familiar. Even now that they’re in the same group, she still doesn’t dare call him ‘Jaeyun.’ She didn’t realise he had allowed their seniors to call him that.

“No problem,” he replies. He turns to Mila. “I’ll be back.”

“Mkay,” she mutters.

He’s wearing that smile that never fails to make her stomach twist into knots, and then he’s gone, leaving to do whatever it is that Yui and her unnies convinced him to do. At the same time, Kiara is standing up as well, before leaning down to Mila.

“I’m getting a call, so I’ll just be outside, okay?” Mila nods. Then Kiara is gone, and she’s all alone, feeling like a child at the adult’s table as she looks around her.

Heeseung’s seat is empty, since he left to go to the bathroom not long ago. The others have gone back to conversing as if she’s not there, and then Mila is back to looking down at her bowl of rice in front of her, wondering why she��s even here to begin with.

Being the Gen-Z’er that she is, Mila’s first instinct is to reach for her phone. As if by god’s timing, the screen lights up and she sees a text from Sunoo, who had to pass on her invitation because of prior arrangements with family.

(Thank goodness for it. Mila is already struggling as things are; she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle any of the Lumine members making moves on her soulmate, too.)

心肝☀️: how’s the dinner going?

Mila can’t bring herself to tell the truth, so she lies instead.

You: it’s okay You: all the adults are talking so i just left for a bit  心肝☀️: sorry byeol-ah 心肝☀️: i wish i could be there You: it’s okay You: hope you had a good night with your family ^.^ 心肝☀️: it was good! i’ll tell you more about it later 心肝☀️: i’m in the taxi now 心肝☀️: apparently we’re going to go past the restaurant you’re at

Mila perks up at this.

You: if that’s the case do you want to go home together??

It may be selfish and rude, but it’s better than being here.

心肝☀️: of course!!! 心肝☀️: but don’t you want to go stay back? 心肝☀️: i thought you liked lumine-sunbaenim ㅇㅁㅇ

Right. Mila mentally scoffs. That was before the disaster of tonight.

You: i’m just feeling a bit tired ㅠㅠ You: i’ll ask kiara-unnie as well You: she looked like she wanted to go home the whole time ㅋㅋ

That at least is true. Kiara was much quicker to realise the Lumine members’ intentions and acted accordingly, checking her phone every five minutes to see how much time would pass. 

心肝☀️: okay sounds good 心肝☀️: i should be there around five minutes You: see you soon! ^.^

Mila pockets her phone. 

She jolts when she feels a hand on her knee. When she looks up, those dark eyes of Jay’s hold a glimmer of concern. Mila instantly relaxes.

“You haven’t eaten much,” he observes—which Mila finds strange, since she feels like she’s eaten more than she should have, considering the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you okay? Do you not like the food?”

Mila shakes her head strongly. She musters a smile, though it must seem pathetic. “No, it’s good! I think I’m just not that hungry…”

“Well, that won’t do at all!” Jingyi, the only Chinese member of Lumine, perks up and places a piece of meat in Mila’s bowl. “Growing girls like you should eat more.”

Mila blinks at the piece of meat, which feels like it's looking back at her tauntingly. “Thanks, Jingyi-jie,” she mutters. Even though I stopped growing a year ago…

“You’ve been drinking a lot, too,” Sara, the oldest Lumine member, continues. “You’re still young, you shouldn’t overdo it.”

Mila feels her lip twitch. Just how young do they think she is?

It’s already bad enough that fans still don’t see her as the adult that she is now. (She’ll forever be their baby, according to them.) But if others continue to treat her like she’s still a child, then won’t her members do the same? And that’s the last thing she wants.

Mila already has to sit here and watch the Lumine members flirt with them, she’d rather choke on the meat Jingyi gave her than endure mothering from the men she’s literally head over heels in love with.

“Sara-sunbae is right.” Jay frowns, and Mila gets the foreboding feeling that he’ll do that thing he does where he frets over her. It had been cute once, but that was before she realised she wanted him to see her as a woman, and not the same fifteen-year-old girl he’s looked out for four years now. 

Sara chuckles. “You can just call me ‘Noona.’ ‘Sunbae’ sounds too formal. And Mila here is like a little sister to me, it’s only right I get along with her oppas.”

Sara then lays a hand on Jay’s shoulder, looking too friendly to be wanting to just ‘get along,’ and the sight of it has Mila clenching a first under the table.

Heeseung chooses that exact moment to return, and slips into his seat next to Ria, the leader of Lumine. He spares a smile at the older woman, before looking at the empty spots next to Mila.

“Where are Jaeyun and Kyunghee?” he asks Jay. But habit, he uses both Jake and Kiara’s Korean names.

“Noona went to answer a phone call, and Jake went to grab something for Yui-sunbae—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Yui tuts. “It’s ‘Noona’ to you, remember?”

She then laughs in the way that shows just how tipsy she is, and almost falls over if not for Sunghoon reaching out to steady her by placing an arm around her bicep.

“Please be careful,” he says politely, before retracting his hand. But then she topples over and ends up leaning on his shoulder.

“Yah, Yui,” Ria scolds, “Don’t be embarrassing. Sunghoon, please don’t mind her. If she makes you uncomfortable just push her off.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “No, no, it’s okay—I don’t mind.”

Mila bits her lip. She quickly looks away and catches Heeseung’s gaze instead. Or at least tries to. He doesn’t really spare her any looks during this dinner—or at all, really.

It’s one of those things that Mila has just learnt to deal with. The kind and caring Heeseung she’s known since trainee days is still there, but into in the way she’s used to. She doesn’t know exactly what’s changed, but there’s definitely something different in their relationship. It’s much more awkward, much more distant.

“Mila, do you want some of the pork?” Jingyi asks, just as Mila hastily eats the meat she gave her before.

Heeseung replies before Mila can. “You should eat some, too. Here.”

Heeseung piles a piece of pork onto Jingyi’s bowl, and Mila pettily thinks that he didn’t do anything of the sort for her. But then, she’s the one who wants them to treat her less like a dongsaeng, isn’t she? Perhaps she’s getting what she wanted, after all. 

“Ah, thank you.” Jingyi gives a stunning smile, and Mila has a sudden thought that she resembles someone very familiar.

Then it clicks. Of course.

One would think Heeseung would be over his ex-girlfriend by now, but considering how long they had been together, she supposes it’s not too far fetched to think he would look for her in everything he does, even two years after they’ve broken up. It was no secret that the man’s entire world revolved around her.

Mila is willing to bet he still has the bracelet she gave him, too.

She reaches for a drink before the soju bottle is taken away from her sight. She blinks as she looks at Sara.

“Mila, you should slow down a bit,” she chides. “Here have some water.”

Mila feigns a smile. She doesn’t want water, she wants alcohol, damn it! “It’s fi—!”

“No, she’s right.” Mila looks at Heeseung in surprise. He’s looking at her sternly. A huge contrast to how he’s been looking at the Lumine members—or anyone for that matter—since the dinner started. “Don’t overdo it. You have a schedule tomorrow.”

No, because what the hell is his problem? He’s been giving her hot and cold treatment for the past month or so, and has been doing fine at pretending she’s not here tonight. But when he does decide to address her, it’s to chastise her in front of everyone?

Mila frowns. “I know my limits. I’ll be fine.”

Is this really the right time and place to be giving into her pent-up frustrations and showing attitude? No. But she’s not exactly in the right mind to be rational.

“It’s not a good look if you turn up with a hangover,” Heeseung says, firmer.

“I’ve been fine without you supervising me in the past,” Mila snaps. “I don't need your advice.”

There’s a tense silence. Heeseung rolls his jaw, and gives her The Look. Mila glares back like the petulant brat she knows she’s being, and ignores his face to call the staff over for another drink.

Heeseung lets out a deep sigh, and Jingyi looks at him from the corner of her eye, not sure what to make of the sudden shift in mood. Yerin has a hesitant smile on her face. But the older woman quickly regains composure and clears her throat. “Well, it looks like we’re running low on meat—I’ll call over the staff to get us some more.”

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows and nudges Mila’s foot discreetly. He mouths, ‘What’s with you?’

What’s with her?

What’s with her?

Mila doesn’t even know how to begin to answer that question. She can feel her blood start to rush beneath her skin, and she doesn’t even know the reason why.

She’s annoyed, she’s mad—but she feels like crying at the same time. 

Maybe there really is something wrong with her. But, well, she should have realised that after falling for not one, not two, but seven people at the same time.

Jay furrows his eyebrows. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jake returns at that very second, holding a woman’s jacket in his hand. “I got your jacket, Yui-sunbae.”

The said woman beams up at Jake and receives it gratefully. “Thank you, Jaeyun. Sorry to bother you.”

“That’s okay—woah!” Jaeyun sweeps in with a heroic catch as Yui stumbles on her feet in an attempt to put her jacket on. “Be careful!”

Yui simply giggles drunkenly and pats Jaeyun on the chest. “You’re so strong, wahhh...”

Mila’s lips are pressed into a thin line. Now this is getting too much for her liking. She doesn’t hear anything else that’s being said, because she’s trying to calm down the emotions that poke and prod at her from the inside, begging to be let out in the ugliest way possible.

Mila doesn’t care. She can’t be in this room anymore.

She suddenly stands from her seat, drawing all eyes at the table to her. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She storms off. She almost bumps into a woman leaving the bathroom and spares a thin, but hopefully friendly, smile before she goes right to the stall at the very end, and locks herself inside.

The alcohol does not pair well with the boiling jealousy in her gut, and she finds herself hunched over the toilet seat, throwing up every bit of food she’s had in the last hour. It’s not a pretty sight. She’s lurching, her shoulders shaking and her eyes watery as bile burns the back of her throat.

Mila may be dramatic, but this might possibly be the worst night ever. 

She has to drag herself out of the stall and towards the sink, where she grimaces at her reflection. So much for being a visual, she thinks. She looks like the average college student after a night of no sleep, three cans of coffee, and a simmering desire to just quit everything and work on a remote farm for nothing more than sleeping quarters and food.

She takes a deep breath as she observes her reflection. Her visuals have always been praised by netizens for seeming so youthful and refreshing, yet she can’t help but feel that everything about her feels too…girlish. The baby fat on her cheeks, the roundness of her eyes, and just her look in general.

Mila reaches up to the back of her head and plucks the white satin bow that she used to pin up half her hair. She shakes her head, allowing the black strands to fall in waves around her face. She turns the bow over in her hands and bites the inside of her cheek. 

She sighs. It’s not like getting rid of the bow will make her look any more mature, considering she’s been acting like a brat. As she thinks back to her petty remarks, she starts to feel belated embarrassment creep under her skin.

I’m so pathetic, Mila bemoans as she shakes her hands dry at the sink. Why did I say that?

Mila is so caught up in her thoughts she doesn’t notice Kira until she almost bumps into her on the way out of the bathroom. She decides to tell the older female about her conversation with Sunoo over text, only to find that Kiara already had a similar idea.

“Apparently the Lumine manager had to go home all of a sudden for an emergency and asked our manager to help drop them back off to their dorms.”

Well, Mila can’t be upset over that. She’s aware of just how dangerous the world is for women. As much as she was annoyed by the Lumine members tonight, she wouldn’t wish any harm on them.

Their manager, Juri, finds the girls and discusses a quick plan away from the others.

“Okay, if Mila goes with Sunoo I’ll worry less,” Juri says. “Then I can take Kiara and the Lumine members, and the boys can take taxis home when they’re done.”

“Okay, then that settles it.” Kiara gestures to Mila. “When will Sunoo get here?”

Mila quickly takes her phone out of her pocket. She opens the most recent message from Sunoo. “He said he’s pulling up now.” She types a quick reply and turns to leave. “I’ll go meet up with him—you tell the others about the plan.”

“Yah!” Kiara reprimands as she speeds off. “You should say goodbye to the others, first!”

Mila waves a hand in dismissal over her head. “It’s fine. They won’t even notice I’m gone.”

She doesn’t know whether to be grateful or sad about that.

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu @enhaverse713586

[kirkodiletears]

This used to be a part of a post, but I decided to make it into a separate one, because it speaks of crusual things for understanding SVSSS, it's plot and it's characters.

As I found out recently, there's a huge misunderstanding going on in the English-speaking segment, probably dew to an English translation of SVSSS (only a speculation, I myself never had this problem, although I read in several other languages as well, so I can compare) concerning the fact whether or not PIDW was originally planned by Airplane as a yaoi with bingqiu as an OTP. (Spoiler: yes, it was). Some readers are mislead by two quotes, that they take as a contradictory, which in truth, they are NOT.

The first one is from a Chapter "The story begins". It is the last chapter of the novel, after this the extras start. And this particular chapter is a culmination: this is where the truth is reveled. Like in a detective story, where we finally find out, who the killer is. This meant to become a real "bomb", that makes a reader go WOOOW!!! And this is THE KEY for understanding the whole story: the plot and the characters, especially Luo Bing-mei (and Luo Bing-ge). And it speaks about the original INTENTIONS of the Airplane, that he betrayed in order to please the crowd and that came true in the universe of the System. (original scrapped outline(c))

The second quote, from the extras, on the other hand speaks of an EXISTING PIDW, (original outline(c)), that he actually wrote, but never finished, because he died and woke up in the Universe of the System. And it gives us a glimpse into the way he planned to finish it.

The first quote, from the final chapter:

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down. “You don’t look crushed at all after all this foolish messing around ended up completely changing your own novel.”

Shang Qinghua said, “You can’t say it like that ah. Maybe you think it’s just all foolish messing around that isn’t worth a damn, but for Bing-ge, your foolish messing around is probably the meaning of this entire world.”

... holy s***, Great God Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was able to say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was terrified. “F***. You didn’t turn back into the original character, did you?”

Shang Qinghua said seriously, “Don’t be like that. I’m also a young person with literary ideals. Of course, I have my own reflections and emotions.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed coldly. “What literary ideals? How come all I saw in the original work was shameless fanservice?” Not to mention his hand speed that could produce ten thousand words a day, and the courage to even occasionally explode with twenty thousand. If he didn’t have such equipment, there was no way 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 would have been able to hold out before it was serialized!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “You think that I always wrote shameless content that lacked any integrity from the very start? I’ve also written belles-lettres4 before, but they were all unpopular, so I had no choice but to go down a path that catered to the masses. It must be said that writing novels is a very lonely undertaking. Rather than writing a stallion male protagonist who’ll be stereotypical in the end, it’s more in line with my philosophy for writing to create the current Bing-ge━this kind of weirdo male protagonist whose character is a bit more complicated, has contradictions and conflicts, and has a rough destiny.”

Shen Qingqiu concluded, “So, your philosophy for writing is to write about gay guys?”

Shang Qinghua: “Do you look down upon gay male protagonists? Works of art and artists all like to create gay guys. Belles-lettres favors gays, do you know that?”

He waved his arms wildly and passionately. “Cucumber Bro, if the System hadn’t chosen you, this faithful die-hard reader, perhaps the plot wouldn’t have deviated so thoroughly, thoroughly to the point that it deviated all the way back to my original scrapped outline. Even though the me back in reality━who couldn’t endure the loneliness and was under financial pressure━chose to finish writing 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 according to other people’s preferences and what they found cool... now, all thanks to you, essentially everything that I wanted to write has already unfolded in front of my eyes. Cucumber Bro!”

He patted Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with deep sentiment and solemnity. “You... are the chosen one; as for my career, I have no more regrets!”

... why did it sound like the System and this world were both products of Shang Qinghua’s resentment over scrapping that outline and going with what was mainstream?

Shen Qingqiu, who shamefully became this kind of “chosen one”: “Who’s your faithful die-hard reader?”

Shang Qinghua waved his hand and one-sidedly declared his victory. “I’m not going to talk to you; you’re an anti-fan.”

Shen Qingqiu was about to say, “I’m only an anti, not a fan!” when he suddenly heard Shang Qinghua starting crooning something like, “Emotions are warm, kindness hard to bear, lips moving together, desires turning the evening to the next morning, never resting from dawn to dusk.” The crucial point was that melody, which sounded extremely familiar to the point that it made Shen Qingqiu’s hands and teeth itch. He pointed at him and said, “Shang Qinghua, what are you singing?”

Shang Qinghua continued to croon. “The warmth of emotions makes gratitude hard to bear. Lips to lips, locked in a kiss. Let this night linger ‘til tomorrow’s dawn. Day after day, night after night; never to end. Will tomorrow be another today? When ‘til Zheng Yang reaches its zenith? As Zheng Yang ascends, the voice of Autumn stirs. A sheathless Xiu Ya, a spurt of cold nectar. Tragic pleas amidst choked sobs, thus in vain; for he rises again5...”

Shen Qingqiu was in disbelief. “F*** you—why don’t you just try and sing another line?”

Shang Qinghua said, “Great Lord Shen, why aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You must never go around casually f***ing people. Bing-ge will go crazy. I’m telling you, this Resentment of Chunshan is equivalent to Shi Ba Mo6. You two are the legendary national homos, do you understand? I have no problems with you shutting me up, but ultimately it’s useless. You can’t possibly make all the countless people in the world shut up...” (NB, Ch 81)

The second quote, from the extras:

【 Basic completion of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s original outline achieved (slight deviation in romance plotline); objective complete. Retrieving function to return to original world; download complete. Activate Return Home sequence? 】 Basic completion of the original outline? That he agreed with. All the holes that needed to be filled had been filled. But this “slight deviation of romance plot” wasn’t quite right. Bing-ge was now fully gay; how could you say that was a “slight deviation”? Ah, fine, fine, in fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insisted on adding a romance plotline, all right, that was whatever, so putting aside all the System’s rambling…this meant he could return to his original world?! (Seven Seas, Ch. 26)

Basic completion of the original outline and filling it's plotholes - THIS is what's talked about in this quote! Not the scrapped original outline!

The English translation, which I only read recently, in my opinion is not very clear, in comparison to, for example, Russian translations, and not just the most popular version by Псой и Сысой, for ex: there are more than one, and they all pretty much nailed it. 感情线 used in original (that's what, apparently, caused the doubts for some reason, in spite that the quote itself absolutely clearly speaks of 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》’s original outline, the one big "error of a novel", that needed to be redressed, and not the scrapped original outline that never saw the daylight) itself refers to a "romantic plotline". So the author himself tells you, that his original Bing-ge had none. But how come? Why is that? Bing-ge, as we know, has got a huge harem, he for sure cannot be the case of dying alone without love!.. Or can he? Apparently, this is exactly his fate - no love. And the Airplane, the way he planned the original scrapped outline, knows better than anyone else - there's, well, none. The Protagonist's harem is nothing to do with romance whatsoever (see the quote below from the forum as an example, what the readers of PIDW themselves think of the relationship between Bing-ge and his harem). It all has to do with protagonists coolness and power and getting everything, including all the women, because he is super powerful and he is the center of that universe. It's about power, it's about lust, it's about influence and control, and showing, who the real boss is. But not love or romance. PIDW is not a romantic novel in a slightest: its a third rate pornography and a ode to toxic masculinity, so distasteful and disgusting, that the resentment of it's author with his own creation was powerful enough to create the whole new universe (The System) just to correct it! And this particular quote speaks of Bing-ge not having ANY SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP, LOVE. Псой и Сысой for translating 感情线 in this particular case use much more explicit and profound "заслуживающие упоминания эмоциональные привязанности" ("the emotional connections worth mentioning"), rather than abstract "romantic plotline". Because the only significant person in his life pushed Bing-ge away. (And we know, who that person is, thanks to the System Universe - his shizhun.) Romance has nothing to do with the amount of partners he fucks - they are not of any romantic or emotional significance for Bing-ge. This is how his relationship with the harem is described by the PIDW reader's forum in the novel:

"Airplane really doesn’t know how to write romance plotlines, best if he just doesn’t. I feel like Luo Binghe doesn’t have feelings for any of his wives, he just wants to use them. And I can’t see any of those women with real moving emotion for him. "(NB, Ch. 73)

So - no romance for Bing-ge in PIDW, the Airplane didn't grant him this privilege and happiness. And yes - the ending for the tyrant he's become in PIDW is not happy in a slightest.

So, binqui did not appear out of nowhere, and yes - it has always been there from a beginning, in the core of everything. Implied. This is not only canon: it is the exact essence of it, the base, the foundation, which explaines everything that happens in the novel and even beyond - in PIDW, where the mighty protagonist that has everything, except the only one thing he really needs - the love of his shizun - is doomed to an eternal unhappiness and loneliness.

[lanafofana]

Afforded A Chance

Day 2 of #HalsinTavWeek AND WE'RE BACK BABYYYYYYY Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Special Guest Appearance: Yenna! Summary: Tav realizes she wants something. Halsin is all too happy to provide. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tags: Smut, Porn with Feelings, BREEDING, PnV Sex, Quickie sex, Domestic Fluff, Post Epilogue No Beta We Die Like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link! For those of you who are so inclined. Note: Lots of talking and feelings and ooey gooey stuff in this one, fam.

Watching the cart disappear into the distance Tav reminds herself that this had always been the plan. 

Fifty children was an ambitious undertaking for anyone. While they loved each and every single one of their charges, Halsin and Tav had always known and agreed that for the majority of them, their home was but a stepping off point to get to the family they were destined for. 

Still, watching the infant she had cared for so deeply and for so long, being swept off into the proverbial sunset with her new mama and papa left an ache in her empty arms she couldn’t shake. She swallows roughly, wiping the tears from her face and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Walking back home Tav’s already tender heart feels a keen sting when she spies the newest couple to their little community. The wife is a sweet young thing, barely an adult herself but newly married and swollen with child already. She looks tired, waddling along with her hand on her belly, but healthy. Happy. Tav was happy. Is happy. Of course she is.

And yet.

Tav murmurs a greeting as the pair pass, stepping off the well trodden path to give them space to amble by. 

Fifty children they may have started out with but the numbers had dwindled significantly over the past year and now with sweet baby Marigold gone to a new home that put their occupancy at home down to a much more manageable ten. Manageable, some might say, but to Tav it felt like sand drifting through her fingers. 

The youngest was an ornery little tiefling boy, freshly five, and the oldest was just shy of sixteen with plans to seek an apprenticeship soon. Tav was not in any way dissatisfied with her life. She finally had a home and family to call all her own after so long without either. There was no way to describe the feeling she got from just being able to be present, nurturing them, and loving them. Her greatest joy and sense of purpose was deeply rooted in simply basking in watching her children grow with the love of her life at her side. It would be incredibly foolish to covet any more than what she had been provided with. 

And yet.

At home the house is quiet. The children spend every possible minute they’re allowed out in the forest during the day. Whiling away the hours of youth playing with Thaniel and Oliver till, exhausted and hungry, they reluctantly troop back to her. At any rate they’re not home yet and the house feels desolate. Yet another finger pressing on the bruise of Tav’s melancholy. 

When she finds her lover he’s in his study, sorting through his never ending pile of correspondence. Unlike her, he is conscientious about not letting a letter go unanswered too long and she is loath to steal away his time. 

And yet.

Halsin stands, grabbing a book off the shelf behind his desk before perusing the letter in his other hand once again. He seems to be puzzling out an answer to a specific question, his brow furrowed and his lips puckered in thought. The entire effect is so domestic it soothes some of the grief from before and lingering in the doorway Tav takes a breath, gathering her courage. 

“I want to have a baby.” 

The book in Halsin’s hand promptly drops to the floor. He stares at Tav in surprise, mind completely wiped clean of all coherent thought.  

“With you,” she amends when he remains silent. 

The expression of surprise slips into something gentle and soft. “Is this about Marigold?” He frowns, picking up the book to put it on his desk and shakes his head with a shine of regret in his eyes. “I should have gone with you. I’m sorry, my heart. That parting was destined to be perhaps the most difficult of them all. I know how deeply you loved her especially.” 

Tav crosses the room and takes one of his large hands in hers. “I am sad she is gone but I am also happy she is where she is meant to be. They will love her well. I,” she swallows. “I know the timing of this might seem odd. But it’s not just because of Marigold my mind has turned to…to this.” 

“To having a baby,” Halsin clarifies, his tone strange.  

“Yeah,” Tav avoids his eyes while she struggles to translate her errant feelings into words.

Her thumbs stroke the warmth of his hand in hers absently. It never ceases to amaze her that to simply feel his skin against hers, chaste or otherwise, had become an anchor for her. When the storm of her thoughts threatens to unmoor her she merely has to turn into his embrace, and she is put at ease. 

“Some might reconsider the toils and labors of bringing new life into the world when their home is already bursting with shoots and sprouts aplenty.” 

Tav smiles and brings his hand to her face, brushing her lips across his knuckles. “When have we ever shied away from toils and labors? Or balked at adding fresh life to a garden well tended? With these hands to hold me and lend me their unerring counsel and strength, I know we can do anything. I want this…with you… if you do.” She sobered as another thought occurred to her. “But we walk this path together. If you do not–” 

“Oh but I do,” he growls, hands finding purchase on her hips as he crowds into her space. “I very much do.”

The kiss is sudden and fierce; a tangle of tongues and teeth that steals her breath. Hands cupping her ass he lifts her, directing her legs around his hips. When they part for breath, Tav stares at him in wonderment.

“I honestly wasn’t sure,” she admits with a tiny huff of laughter. Tav scans his face, taking in his barely restrained hunger, the raw desire in his eyes. “You really want this, don’t you?” 

The hazel of his eyes is dark, his jaw tight. “Yes.” He presses his face to hers gently, breathing deeply to quell the rising tide of his lust. “Before the Absolute I wondered if I would ever get to experience the joys of having a family again. I hardly dared to imagine a future with children. And then came you,” he pauses, a breath shuddering through his chest, “and that dream was realized in more ways than I could’ve ever hoped.” 

With one hand Tav threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and with the other she caresses his cheek. Despite the grip he has on her, the evidence of his tightly reigned in passion, the moment feels fragile. When he opens his eyes the depth of emotion there tugs at her heart. 

“When I told you of my hopes and dreams of achieving some measure of balance you supported me.” He punctuates the statement with a chaste kiss to her cheek. “When I found my new purpose here, in this place, far away from everything and everyone you know you didn’t even hesitate to abandon a life of ease in a city that was ready to celebrate you in every way you deserve.” He presses a lingering kiss to her temple. “When you followed me into the wilderness with,” he huffs a laugh, “so many children I began to worry, wondering what I could have possibly done to be worthy of such a person. It was too much. You don’t know what you’ve given me. You cannot possibly know.” 

Halsin turns and sets her down on the edge of his desk, placing his hands flat on the surface on either side of her legs and leans in to steal another, longer kiss.  

“I told you once that I wanted more than to be your companion, your ally, your friend. I wanted to share in your heart and your body. And instead you rewrote my entire life with your name across my very soul. Asking for nothing more than the privilege of being at my side. You don’t seem to know the privilege has always been mine.” It’s Halsin’s turn to cup her face, tracing the branch of scarring that trails down her neck. “I am undone by you.”  

Tav’s eyes burn. 

“I had not let myself even entertain the idea of more. But I know your heart as well as you know mine so let me at last extinguish that ember of doubt in your eyes. Yes. I want this. How could I not? To know that you, who carry my entire heart in your hands, wish to carry my seed and with your body nurture our child.” 

The druid’s eyes flash and Tav feels like she’s stopped breathing. Every nerve ending feels raw and buzzing with anticipation. He’s so gentle and easy going it’s easy sometimes to forget how his gaze can pierce through her. The sound of her thudding heart is so loud she wonders if it’s the wind shaking their home in the trees or the tempest of his love threatening to unmake the world. Halsin’s thumb wipes a tear from her face she had not been aware she had shed. 

“We walk this path together as one. Our hearts beat in sync.” The next kiss is hot, barely restrained passion. When he pulls away their breathing is equally unsteady. “Now let our bodies move in sync also.” 

Halsin grips her hips hard and yanks her body towards himself, to the edge of the desk before claiming her mouth again. Breaking the kiss he zeros in on the spot between her ear and neck, pulling a needy moan so soft and sweet from her parted lips that something primal rumbles out from his chest in response. 

He slides a hand in her hair, fingers brushing her scalp before he fists his hand and tugs her head back eliciting a gasp. Greedily he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, his excitement only fanned by the way she trembles under his touch. 

Tav feels hot from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of each finger and toe. She tugs the loose shirt he’s wearing from the band of his pants but only gets a moment to trace the blazing skin beneath before Halsin is tearing himself away to rip it off.

Her dress is next; he picks her up like she weighs nothing and divests her of the simple frock, the fabric fluttering to the floor while he tugs at the lacing of her stays. He peels the soft underclothes from her body like a child unwrapping their first gift. With great joy, expectation, and–by the telltale popping of a few stitches–a little reckless violence. 

Not bothering to smother the laugh that bubbles up at his slightly contrite expression, Tav slips her fingers through the belt at his waist and tugs him closer with a smile. “I’ll need new ones anyway,” she points out with a sly look in her eyes. “When I’m enormous with your fat babies.”

Halsin’s hand drifts to her belly, hovering over the place where her empty womb waits for his seed to catch and huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “I can hardly wait.” 

“Then less waiting, my love,” she casts a meaningful look to the window where the late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, ”unless you want to give the children a first hand demonstration in reproduction.” 

Halsin grins with mischief but takes her point and pushes his trousers down, freeing his already leaking cock. Despite the aching hunger burning under his skin– the primitive need to fuck, to claim, to breed her till she’s screaming– his touch is soft when he takes her hands and tugs her into his embrace. 

He runs his hands from her shoulders down her arms, to her chest to knead the soft flesh of her breasts. Were he afforded more time he would worship every inch of her soft curves, each freckle, every scar. Alas, time is a luxury for those couples without a full brood vying for attention and the beast within gnaws at his control with teeth and claws. 

He spins her around and presses her torso to the desk, nostrils flaring at the scent of her open cunt, already wet with arousal. She widens her legs eagerly, pressing back into his touch and though he’s had her innumerable times in the same position, it’s only this time, for the first time in a very long time, he feels his tenuous control flicker in and out of his grasp. 

“This will not be gentle,” he thinks to warn her but the look she gives him over her shoulder is anything but meek. 

“Stop talking, papa bear, and fuck a baby into me.” 

Lining up to her wet slit he sinks home with a groan that’s more beast than man. Tav’s head drops back with an answering guttural exhalation. A hand on each generous hip he sets a punishing pace, the sharp snap of his hips, the wet hot suction of her pussy consuming him. His lover mewls a needy whine that snaps his threadbare control and he falls forward with one hand on the desk the other on her neck, pressing her face to the desk and he snarls. 

Pressing into his touch Tav’s trembling voice whimpers and keens, begging for his seed, his body, his child. His rough hands and nearly violent display of ardor has reduced her to a quivering mess of desire. Each thrust of his body into hers, has her gasping, arching, desperate for more, teetering on the precipice release. 

He licks at the sweat on her back and with teeth just slightly too sharp he bites the soft flesh of her shoulder. She cries out, dragging her nails across the surface of his desk, and so he does it again, lapping at the red mark in satisfaction. Removing the hand at her neck he reaches around to palm her breast, raising the top half of her body just enough to set his teeth at the nape of her neck. 

The prick of sharp canines does it for her and she jerks with the release of her orgasm, crying out with a curse and a howl. At the height of her rapture her scent changes and Halsin’s grip on her neck with his teeth tightens in tandem with his balls. As she comes down from her high, the walls of her body spasming around his erection, Halsin slams into her with one final thrust. Face pressed to the sweat slick heat of her body he groans his release at last, filling her up with thick hot cords of his cum.

With great affection Halsin nuzzles her skin mindlessly in the afterglow while Tav lays boneless beneath him, her expression incandescently satiated.

They stay like that for a moment, catching their breath. Conjoined by their sex and luxuriating the culmination of their bliss. 

Until a familiar voice pipes up with intense curiosity, “But what are they doing in there?” 

“Making babies,” answers a disgusted teenager, her footsteps stomping down the hallway past the office door.

Tav and Halsin share a look before bursting into laughter. 

“Daddy Halsin?” Says their youngest, sounding as if he’s talking with his face pressed against the door. “Can I come in and see the babies?” 

“Not just now, my love,” answers Tav with a nearly hysterical edge to her voice. 

“Just a moment,” says Halsin in the same breath and catching each other’s eye, still high off their quickie, they nearly collapse into giggles all over again.  

They scramble for their clothes, wary of the unlocked door but both snickering so much Halsin has his pants on inside out and Tav is wearing his shirt when another voice drifts in.  

“Come on, Ermir,” says Yenna with a no nonsense tone. “They’ll be out soon. Babies take ages to bake.” 

“Bake?” 

“Yeah. Like in Momma Tav’s tummy.” 

“Wow,” whispers Ermir. “How does it get in there?” 

“Ummmm,” says Yenna, stumped. “I think a bird brings it?” 

“Ohhhh.” 

Their footsteps fade deeper into the house. 

Tav, hands on her hips with cum dripping down her leg gives Halsin a shrewd look. “It’s your turn for The Talk, I already had my turn with the older ones.” 

Halsin grins and picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder and swatting her ass. “Anything you say, my heart. But first we should make sure the oven is well stuffed, don’t you?” 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

hi can i request yan sebastian, grell and hell taker meeting reader as their soulmate bit reader is more likely to believe soulmate is not real and theres not such things as true love or destiny

Soulmate | Yandere Black Butler

Naturally in a world where demons, rogue angels, and grim reapers run rampant love and procreation aren’t exactly expected. But their creators gave them an out—a symbol randomly given to someone stamped with a soulmate status.  Many would consider it a weakness but many others would consider it a strength of its own. Either way for them a soulmate is one in a million and they’d be foolish to let you escape whether you believe it or not:

Sebastian Michaelis

“What a glorious surprise is this?”

He never expected to find his soulmate in the devout hater for all things non-human

He’s delighted with the challenge you offer 

Always keeping him on his toes

What a treat

He only really has a problem when you start successfully trying to escape

Expect to be moved into the Phantomhive Manor pronto 

Undertaker

“Hehehehe what a morbid turn of events.”

To have your rejection before the revelation of being his soulmate

But what can you really say when you’re supposed soulmate is a grim reaper

Who is more than delighted to experiment with the topic of death with anyone who you seem interested in you

He doesn’t see you as a weakness not until you prove it to him

Otherwise he’ll decide you need to take a permanent staycation in his care

Or keep you running either one works

Grell 

“What?! You?!”

Doesn’t immediately get the connection

Whether its an obvious vision or a physical sign

He doesn’t immediately peg you for soulmate material

Especially when you scoff at the idea of that being even being a thing

But Grell isn’t a stranger to rejection

So your protests will mean nothing 

Nothing more than a new side of you to learn about 

And as your soulmate its a given that he know everything there is to know about you

[lire-casander]

Hey Lire~can I ask for 2?

Handcuffs

Moonlight

handcuffs + moonlight

Charles had thought that, after Esther Finch, they’d be free of dark magic for a while. It seems he was mistaken all along, for he is once again trapped in a witch’s house, only this time he is tied to a bedpost—so typical he’d laugh if he weren’t the one in such predicament—with iron handcuffs.

Every time he tries to free himself, the handcuffs bite into him, turning his skin corporeally so the iron carves a blazing tattoo onto it. The smell of burnt flesh fills up the air, sneaking up his nostrils. He wants to scream, but he knows nobody will come to his rescue.

He’s been foolish enough to have left the office alone, without even leaving a note to let the girls and Edwin know where he was going. He thought he could undertake this, that he was fit to solve this case on his own. Charles hadn’t wanted Edwin near the witch’s house for evident reasons, but Edwin had refused to let Charles go on his own.

So, he’d sneaked out.

Truth be told, Charles is sure that he would have been able to pull it off if the witch hadn’t shown up. And now he’s sequestered in this basement, alone, with all the memories from his past life burning as much—maybe more—than the actual iron handcuffs.

He can’t help the shivers that run up his spine whenever he moves his head to search for a way out, only to find darkness. Once his eyes adjust to the light—or lack thereof—Charles can make out the silhouette of the bed he’s tied to, and the irregular surface of the walls. He tugs at the handcuffs, and the pain reverberates in his mind in the form of a belt falling over and over his back. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but it’s enough for his reality to blend with his memories. He’s starting to think, irrationally, that his father might show up to teach him a lesson about trespassing.

Charles tries to stop fussing. He doesn’t need any more scars added to his collection. Edwin will be so upset when he sees the new burns that now cover Charles’s wrists. 

The mere thought of Edwin gives Charles a reason to keep fighting. He needs to get out of this basement, out onto the streets, back to the love of his afterlife. He’s not about to let this tiny mistake keep him from spending eternity with Edwin, not now that he’s been brave enough to reciprocate Edwin’s feelings.

He will go back to his friends. He will endure Crystal’s spiel about safety. He will allow Niko to rope him into watching her comfort shows.

He will tell Edwin he loves him, over and over and over again.

He grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and tugs.

He sees stars behind his eyelids at the same time as a loud ruckus starts somewhere above him, and suddenly light fills the basement.

“Charles,” Edwin whispers as he rushes down the stairs to the basement, taking two steps at a time. He could have phased through the walls and down a floor—it would have been faster—but he’s not in the right state of mind not to slip right through the core of the Earth. “Crystal, Niko, he is down here!”

He doesn’t wait for the girls to get to them. The space is dimly lit by the moonlight seeping through the open door.

Edwin almost trips over his own feet, his usually graceful stance forgotten upon seeing his boyfriend tied up to a bedpost with what could only be iron handcuffs. 

When he found out Charles had vanished, Edwin had almost lost his mind. He’d woken Crystal and Niko up, not heeding their complaints. But once they noticed Charles’s absence, the girls had thrown on some clothes and made a beeline for the witch’s house. It was the only place Charles could have gone without telling them—he was adamant on keeping Edwin away from any witch after Esther Finch.

“Charles,” he repeats, touching his boyfriend’s face with delicate fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Edwin,” Charles whispers back. “You need to leave. The witch could come back any second.”

“Let Crystal and her bloodline deal with the witch,” Edwin replies. They’ve found that Crystal is more powerful when she channels the women in her mind, who she fondly calls her bloodline, and that nickname has stuck. “Niko’s helping her.”

Charles shakes his head. “I’m sorry you’ve had to come all the way here to rescue me.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Edwin promises, eyeing the lock on the handcuffs. “Now, I think I’ve seen you work on locks enough times to be able to imitate you.”

He kneels before Charles and manages to free him from the handcuffs in just a few movements.

“Are you done?” Niko calls from the main floor. “We don’t know how much longer we can keep the witch under Crystal’s influence!”

“Coming!” Edwin calls back, helping Charles to climb up the stairs.

The moonlight bathes them all as they stumble out of the house and onto the street. Crystal and Niko exchange a glance with Edwin before heading out and back to the office without waiting for them, leaving Edwin and Charles alone.

Edwin glares at Charles, so he plasters on a smile and says, “I’m aces, Edwin. Now, let’s leave before the witch frees herself.”

“Don’t do that, Charles, please,” Edwin replies in a strained voice. “That was scary. Traumatic. Please talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” Charles insists. “Sure, it was a bit like reliving my last few years alive, but you rescued me.”

“I’ll always rescue you,” Edwin vows. “Just like you’ll always protect me. Just don’t go solo ever again.”

Charles allows himself to laugh, and lets Edwin pull him closer under the moonlight. They hold each other in silence for a few ticks before Edwin kisses Charles’s forehead and they head back home.

send me a one-word prompt from this list by @dbda25!

[jamsmemes]

(     *     ELDEN RING PROMPTS   !    

feel free to change pronouns / details as needed  !

❛ put these foolish ambitions to rest. ❜

❛ thou art of passing skill. ❜

❛ the fallen leaves tell a story. ❜

❛ arise now, ye tarnished. ye dead who yet live. ❜

❛ you will witness true horror. ❜

❛ cower in fear. of the night. ❜

❛ the fear simply assures me the ordeal is worth undertaking. ❜

❛ feel free to go off and die in a ditch somewhere. ❜

❛ i have given thee courtesy enough. ❜

❛ warrior blood must truly run in thy veins. ❜

❛ someone must extinguish thy flame. ❜

❛ i knew victory was impossible. ❜

❛ together, we will devour the very gods. ❜

❛ we continue to struggle. unto eternity. ❜

❛ life endures. births continue. there is beauty in that, is there not? ❜

❛ thy strength befits a crown. ❜

❛ i command thee kneel. ❜

❛ i will kill you. as sure as night follows day. ❜

❛ you scheming little thief. ❜

❛ deliver me unto greater heights. ❜

❛ i have never known defeat. ❜

❛ lend me thy strength. ❜

❛ one day we'll return together to our home, bathed in rays of gold. ❜

❛ time to be born anew. ❜

❛ have no fear, i will hold thee. ❜

❛ send word far and wide. ❜

❛ foul trespasser. ❜

❛ may i have a word? ❜

❛ i was entrusted this for thee. ❜

❛ now it is thine. to do with as thou wishest. ❜

❛ i doubt we shall again meet. ❜

❛ trifle not with me. ❜

❛ didst thou merely forget? ❜

❛ no sense in arguing, i see. ❜

❛ thou'rt a wild one, indeed. ❜

❛ what hopest thou to profit? ❜

❛ again we cross paths. ❜

❛ what business hast thou here? ❜

❛ i have no memory of inking thee an invitation. ❜

❛ mayhaps fate hath steered you to this reunion. ❜

❛ well? has that roused thy interest? ❜

❛ not many would have accepted the offer. ❜

❛ i anticipate good work from thee. ❜

❛ and why should i reveal that to thee? ❜

❛ away from my sight. ❜

❛ soon must i begin my journey. ❜

❛ let us speak of the past a while. ❜

❛ this is farewell, my dear. ❜

❛ would you allow me to hold you, but briefly? ❜

❛ i will take you in my arms as often as you need. ❜

❛ you must kill me. ❜

❛ you deny us, do you not? ❜

❛ will your kind never stop? ravaging the weak? ❜

❛ if i am to flower into something other than myself, i would rather rot into nothingness. ❜

❛ if you are wise, you will leave, immediately. ❜

❛ i would rather trust you, than simply continue to spoil from within. ❜

❛ would you mind averting your eyes for a moment? ❜

❛ well. that was easier than expected. ❜

❛ call upon me again in battle, should you have the need. ❜

❛ with your help, i was able to live as my own person. ❜

❛ this is where things end. ❜

❛ help me! i'm stuck. ❜

❛ put those doubts to rest, i'll be fine. i'm very well trained. ❜

❛ are you willing to help me out after all? ❜

❛ however you slice it, it seems we've reached a dead end. ❜

❛ it seems my calculations might have been off. ❜

❛ it's my destiny. and the reason for which i quest. ❜

❛ it is my ordeal, you could say. to test myself, better myself, to fell ever greater foes. ❜

❛ how do you rate my chances? ❜

❛ i can hardly stand to face one such as you. ❜

❛ i'll be a mighty warrior again in no time. ❜

❛ i have a terrible feeling about this. ❜

❛ to you and your razor sharp wits. ❜

❛ what an incredible place we find ourselves. ❜

❛ you're certainly a force to be reckoned with. ❜

❛ the gods demand repentance. ❜

❛ you'll get what's coming. ❜

❛ well... it was bound to happen some day. ❜

❛ how about we play nice from now on? ❜

❛ you've really been there for me through thick and thin. ❜

❛ view it as a learning experience. ❜

❛ at any rate, it's nice just to see you safe. ❜

❛ i'm untethered by nature, and it's about time that i moved on. ❜

❛ despite my best intentions, i've done you wrong, i have. ❜

❛ you didn't listen last time, but i'm warning you again. ❜

❛ i don't believe it. didn't think you had it in you. ❜

❛ we're on the same side now. we'll do good work together. ❜

❛ a shame you had to see me like this. ❜

❛ i should have stuck to what i know best. ❜

❛ you are about to sacrifice something precious. ❜

❛ may chaos take the world. ❜

❛ a crown is warranted with strength. ❜

❛ you no longer interest me. ❜

❛ i've been long without peace. ❜

❛ i asked you not to disturb me. ❜

❛ let me out of here. ❜

[jbaileyfansite]

Review of Richard II by The Standard

Jonathan Bailey gives the best performance I’ve ever seen of Shakespeare’s flawed monarch, an erratic tyrant who gains dignity once deposed. This might sound like faint praise since major London productions of the play are rare. But the two other Richards I recall are David Tennant and Fiona Shaw, so props to the star of Bridgerton and Wicked.

Bailey inhabits and humanizes the king in a clean, clear, martial staging from Nicholas Hytner that feels right for our times. Altogether this is a winningly bold combination of casting, programming and cultural curation to follow the Bridge’s joyful post-Covid moneyspinner, Guys and Dolls.

There the actors rubbed shoulders with the audience. Here we make up a horseshoe of spectators around an oblong stage thrusting into the auditorium; at one point, we become witnesses at a show trial. Bailey swaggers on to Succession-style music, in a simple crown but with a bespoke frock coat and sockless feet in velvet slippers, setting him apart from courtiers in suits or jeans. A saturnine beard gives an impish frame to his imperious behavior.

In short order Richard exiles his troublesome cousin and potential rival Henry Bullingbrook (striking newcomer Royce Pierreson) and seizes Bullingbrook’s late father John of Gaunt’s estate to undertake a foolish war in Ireland. Where he loftily believes his divine right justifies any caprice, Bullingbrook is more plain-spoken and pragmatic in courting nobles’ favour.

Yet when he challenges Richard – in this case, by training a massive field gun on the theatre’s balcony where Bailey stands spotlit in a white shift – he becomes a traitor. Richard, meanwhile, is transformed through grief over the loss of his kingdom into a kind of Christ figure, a metamorphosis Bailey achieves with great skill. As Hytner has said, he speaks Shakespeare’s verse as if born to it.

The play has some of Shakespeare’s finest poetry (including Gaunt’s “This England” speech, delivered well by an understudy at the performance I attended due to the indisposition of Clive Wood). There are echoes of Hamlet in Richard’s reflective soliloquy on landing back in Wales, and of King Lear in his character arc. The ruthless plotting and politicking – opponents here are dispatched with a bullet to the back of the neck - spark associations with Shakespeare’s other Tudor history plays: it’s boggling to remember he wrote them in seemingly random order over two decades.

Still, Richard II, with its rigid structure and strict double-narrative about two different styles of kingship, is never going to be a crowd-pleaser unless it’s by star casting. Hence Bailey. He commands the stage and even allows a little camp to seep into the character (Richard’s marriage to his shopaholic wife may be transactional). He doesn’t sugar the king’s brattish reluctance to cede the crown but in later speeches attains a stricken grandeur.

Hytner’s production brims with top-notch character actors, including Michael Simkins as a dogged Duke of York and Christopher Osikanlu Colquhoun as a suave Duke of Northumberland. It also has a future star in Royce Pierreson. Bullingbrook is only his third professional stage role: he brings to it a great sense of command. At the end, Bailey quite rightly called him on stage to share his join his solo curtain call.

Source

[drivinmeinsane]

Lights : 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Four ❆ Henry Letham / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas 2024 Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

❆ Summary: Something about Henry Letham makes you feel as though you are a traveler in a vivid dream. ❆ Rating: No mature content. ❆ Content/Tags: Mention of suicidal ideation, Mention of self inflicted injury, Pre-relationship, Art student!Reader, No use of Y/N ❆ Word Count: 1537

Henry carries a cloud with him—a strange, dream-like aura that warps your reality and twists your thoughts until you don’t know which way is up. It’s enough of a sensation to cause even the most mundane interactions with him to be a strange affair. He is a reoccurring figure in your life, often appearing up in places where you would expect to find an art student—be it in eclectic coffee shops, rarity bookstores, or the discount bins of Columbia’s nearest craft store undertaking the quest for something that can be used in a last minute assignment you’d all been given in one of your classes. More than once, you’ve caught sight of his lowered head in a subway car or spotted the cherry-red end of his lit cigarette while he sneaks a smoke in the dark alcove of a thrift store you chanced to visit.

He is not unlike a ghost. He haunts the chambers of your mind with a persistence that none of your other classmates could achieve. More and more, you’ve been catching yourself thinking of him.

It only makes sense that you see a flicker of a dark coat sleeve followed by the wafting scent of tobacco smoke as a lean figure darts past into an alleyway, all long limbs and dangerously delicate wrists. Your specter has manifested into your shaky reality.

“Henry?” you call, reflexively taking a step to follow after your presumed more-than-an-aquaintance-but-not-quite-close-enough-to-be-friends friend. Your camera is clutched in your hands. The bag that normally holds it is dangling empty over your shoulder. For now, your project is set aside in the pursuit of something you’re not sure is real.

The man in question materializes in front of you out of the growing gloom caused by the sun’s decent below the towering efforts of humanity to live and work among the clouds for an ever higher view. For a foolish moment, you feel as though you summoned him into being with your voice alone.

He looks tired—worn down to the bone in a way you can hardly comprehend.

Who died? you wonder in the deep recesses of your mind, though you would never dare to give it voice.

“I haven’t seen you in class for a while. How have you been?”

Blue eyes trail over your face, mapping it into shapes replicable by human hand. His fingers twitch on the strap of the satchel digging into one narrow shoulder. The other—unburdened—one rises in a halfhearted shrug. His gaze drifts and he lights a cigarette as if he were a sleepwalker, vacant and hollowed into a mere shell.

“Looking for anything in particular?” he asks, a question in return for yours.

Your mind stumbles, struggling to make sense of his meaning. It clicks. He is drawing your camera into the conversational focus.

“Oh,” you say, words tasting clumsy on your tongue, “I was going to take some shots of that old apartment building over on Empire.”

“Any special reason why?” He says it with a tone of someone who had been taught to express polite interest.

“Chanukah.”

Comprehension dawns on that pale face. With genuine interest softening the starved angles, he asks, “Matthewson’s lighting project?”

You flash him a smile, pleased that he’s caught on so quickly. At the start of your shared courses at Columbia, he had always been one of the first to raise a hand and enter the fray in a debate or to provide an insightful remark. As the semesters have passed by, though, he’s seemed to grow more subdued. His sleeves have grown longer and his layers more numerous even during the warm months as he became more hunched into himself. The Henry that you had met has all but disappeared all-together in these past few weeks.

It’s nice to see a glimpse of his old self, to pay witness to the young man that had had such a spark of life in him. Impulsively, you make a decision.

“Want to come with me?”

Henry stands silent, rolling his thoughts over in his mind. His expression is carefully blank until he surrenders with slight tilt of his head. “Sure.”

His answer surprises you. You had really expected him to find a reason to fade into the growing night. You can’t help but smile at him, honestly happy that he has chosen to accompany you.

“Alright,” you say, “Let’s get a move on then. They’re going to start lighting the candles soon.”

Without allowing yourself to think too deeply about what you’re about to do lest your nerves get the better of you., you slide your arm around Henry’s. The two of you are locked arm in arm. There’s an irrational part of you that worries he will fade away somewhere between here and your destination if you don’t touch him. He stiffens as though he might pull away, but in another surprise of the evening, he relaxes into the contact.

The artist feels cold as a corpse and too thin. Thinking back all those semesters ago, Henry hadn’t ever been anything but slender, but it’s all too clear that he has not been taken care of himself for quite some time now. You can’t bring yourself to remark on it. It’s not your place.

Silently, arms linked, the two of you make your way down the block and across the intersection that gives way into the borough that is home to the apartment building you’re seeking.

“There!” you say just as Henry utters a soft, “Is that…?”

The old structure is a small thing nestled among the much larger and newer buildings crowding in on either side. The sleek, modern surfaces of the fresher builds are doing their best to swallow up any semblance of individuality, to consume it into the sea of inoffensively bland architecture. How dare anyone have a non-sanitized vision in the modern age.

Art is dying , you think, distant , becoming too commercial and here, in brick and mortar and steel, it has suffered the most.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Henry say s in a way that has you wondering if you had aired your pessimism over the steady roar of traffic and the sporadic honks of impatient drivers. All around, the sea of humanity floods on either side of you as if you were of no more consequence than two pebbles in a stream. In this moment, you feel so small. So insignificant.

“At least that’s still standing,” you reply and break the delicate connection between you and Henry. The space against your ribs where his arm had nestled feels empty now. It almost aches.

“Sometimes staying upright is the hardest thing in the world,” you hear him say, disjointed. It’s a dreamy statement, suitable for the night that has taken hold of the city.

There’s a part of you that expects to wake up any moment slumped over your battered desk, having stayed up too late in the effort to meet a deadline. Nothing about this experience feels real, not even the uneven concrete under your feet.

Humming in agreement, you raise your camera to your face and press your eye against the viewfinder. You adjust your stance on the pavement, unbothered by the bodies bumping against you. Even if you can’t see him, you can still feel Henry at your side. He is matching you step by step as you get into position. You might be insignificant in this world, but you are not alone, not in this brief moment.

In the dark, illuminated by thousands of lights, you work. You let the long exposure of the camera tick down after pressing the shutter button. It captures the flurry of the motion in the streets, on the sidewalks, in the windows, smearing into a blur representing mankind’s restless race to the end. But in the heart of the shot towers the steadfast visage of the apartments across the street in front of you. The gently flickering candles of the menorahs are set in crisp lines among the chaos. Despite the changes of the world, there are pockets of tradition that remain despite every attempt to wipe them away.

You lower the camera. Pleased with the images burned into the film, you turn to Henry with a grin. You’re startled to find him already looking at you with considering eyes. His lips are twisted into a thoughtful frown.

Before you can ask him what’s wrong, he beats you to the punch.

“I was going to kill myself,” he says, not any more concerned than if he were commenting about the color of paint he might like to use, “Tonight. At midnight.”

Your stomach swoops unpleasantly. You grasp at his sleeve in shocked silence. What is there to say? What should you say?

He slides out of your hold like sealant dripping off a canvas. There’s something almost tender—almost apologetic —in the way he brushes a thumb over your knuckles as he lowers your hand back down to your side.

“I’ll see in class Monday,” he adds, and then he’s gone as though he were no more substantial or tangible than the puff of your breath in the cold night air.

You will yourself to wake up.

You don’t.

<- previous day // next day ->

[sebadztian]

In relation to my previous post about demon lore, I hope we will never find out too much about Sebastian (and demons in general).

Despite what the general public think, the main character/protagonist of Kuro is Sebastian the demon. And yet, 200+ chapters later we still don't know anything much about him.

What we know so far about him is from others' POVs, the servants, the Reapers, Arthur, and even Ciel himself. But the man himself remained tight-lipped. It's just like what Bard & Ciel said in the Murder arc, none of them knew where he came from, whom he served before. Bard only knows him to be the perfect butler, and Ciel didn't care, as long as Sebastian can give him what he wanted. As for the Reapers, well, it seems that they despise each other.

Is Sebastian the only demon in Kuro? No.

Grell mentioned that she was surprised to find a demon posing as a butler, which implied that there are other demons out there, but none of them has ever played the role of a butler before (as far as Grell could tell, at least).

And Will also mentioned it in the Circus arc, implying that there are other demons who'd scavenge for a meal.

And to make things even more certain, Sebastian himself has talked about his own kind.

Even Undertaker has questioned his 'motive' in Campania arc.

Now, having said that, while Sebastian is not the only demon in the Kuro verse, we can safely assume that he's not quite like other demons. Or at the very least, he has changed. He's tired of consuming souls mindlessly and he's now actively working to cultivate his next meal, a. k. a. Ciel, as per his own words in the Circus arc.

Admittedly, the Reapers might know a whole lot more about demons compared to Ciel and Bard, but I think we can safely say that whatever these Reapers know about demons do not fully apply to this particular demon.

When it comes to Sebastian Michaelis, nobody quite knows what kind of demon he is. This is not a ship post, but I'd still say that Ciel knows him best - compared to other characters, but even then, he doesn't know a whole lot about him.

Ciel knows him well enough to trust him - and not to trust him. But even then, he still doesn't know him that wellz or at least, Sebastian doesn't show him that much part of himself, as evidenced in the Green Witch arc.

Ciel told him to be 'a beast', and Sebastian himself said later on that what he currently finds most fascinating is to play the part of Ciel's butler. Ciel clearly doesn't know/understand this.

The thing is, Sebastian is not all brawl and no brain. I personally believe that he has an eidetic/photographic memory, which means he has perfect recall. But being intelligent is so much more than that.

Throughout the manga, Sebastian has shown that he is smart, cunning, scheming, and he is one hell of a manipulative bastard. He's creative and resourceful, as shown over and over again. When he battled Grell, how he came up with the Curry Bun, how he got the information about Kelvin from Beast, how he battled Undertaker onboard of Campania, how he his own way into Weston, and he was shown taking many initiatives during the Green Witch arc.

As much as Ciel tried to keep him under control, the demon would always find ways to challenge him and find loopholes and to play his own games (like with those poisonous snakesz for example). He is no idiot.

What fascinates me the most is how little we know of him, and yet, despite all those knowledge - or lack thereof, we can see how his character developed throughout the course of the manga.

And when this is all over, Ciel Phantomhive might be a blip in the long life of this demon, but he'd have the most impact in the demon's existence & character. Which is why this demon has chosen to tell this particular story of his adventures as the young earl's butler. Because if you really think about it, Kuro is Sebastian's story about this foolish yet beautiful boy and his path to revenge. He's the narrator and the story-teller and maybe that's also why we don't quite know a whole lot about him...

In other words, Kuro is Sebastian's recipe book about how to microwave a Victorian boy.

[starrypawz]

AO3 What can I say I had an idea

On the shore of The Dreaming he senses something that ebbs and flows with the tide.

Whatever that something is very…

Small

Tired

With a broken heart… 

But the heart still beats strong. 

Curious. 

Gently he reaches out and

A crow? Most curious.

The crow, more than a little bedraggled, tilts their head as they stand.

“Caw?” (weakly) 

“Easy now,” 

Caw…. Caw?... Caw!  (Slightly panicked)

“No you are not, much longer though and you likely would have met my sister,”

Caw!! (Profanity) 

Caw (Apologetic) 

“That’s an… understandable reaction… although I will say she is actually… very nice.” 

Caw? 

“I am known by many names but… Often I am known as Dream,” 

“Caw!” (Introductory) Dream gives a faint smile, “I am aware,it is a  pleasure to meet you Monty the Crow” 

He regards the Crow who has just informed him that he is known as Monty (although he knew that already)  some more and then asks.

“What was your aim?” 

“Caw,” “London?” 

“Caw,” and then “Caw?”

“Unfortunately you didn’t get very far,” 

“Caw,” (Dejected) 

“Agreed, that was a rather foolish idea,” Dream tilts his head, “I must ask why did you undertake this fool’s errand?” 

“Caw?”

“I… can only sense fragments, you are rather weak right now,” 

“Caw,” (Panicked)

“Do not worry, you are safe here,” “Caw,” (Grateful) 

Dream pauses.

“So Monty the Crow what was the goal of your fool’s errand?”

“Caw?” 

“I only sensed fragments, you are… rather weak right now,”

“Caw,”

“You are safe here,”

“Caw,” (Grateful) 

Monty pauses and the way his feathers ruffle translates as a sigh before he takes a couple of hops that translate somehow as ‘pacing around whilst trying to get your thoughts together’

“Caw…” Another hop, “Caw… Caw…. Caw,”  Another hop, “Caw” (Dejected) 

“That… that is a rather noble cause,” Dream reaches out and then pauses, “May I?”

Monty nods. 

Dream lightly scratches him on the head, feather soft under his fingers and Dream feels a soft rush of affection run through him as Monty leans into his touch and ruffles his feathers and gives the faintest hint of a smile. 

“I… I sense you have not been treated kindly,” He offers his hand and Monty struggles to hop up. 

“Let me,” He soothes as he carefully guides him into his hand and lifts Monty closer to his face.

“I am sorry that has happened to you,” Dream stiffens, “Who… Who did this?” 

“Caw,” “A witch?” He pauses and… feels, “One named Esther Finch, I know of her and… I can sense she has met her long overdue fate,”

“Caw,”

“Maybe that offers you some comfort?” Monty moves his wings in a way that somehow reads as a shrug.

“I… I know what it is like, to be trapped,” Dream sighs, “Taken by someone who seeks power they do not deserve.. Let alone understand.” 

Monty tilts his head again.

“Tell me Monty, Tell me your story,”

“Caw-” 

“I am fond of long tales…” Dream smiles, “And we have all the time in the world whilst you are here,”

Monty ruffles his feathers and then 

“Caw-” 

And then after some time. 

“That is… quite the tale.” 

“Caw?” 

“Yes… now what,” Dream sighs, “I think I can aid you?”

“Caw?”

“Do not worry, I would not pull you into such a bargain, I would also not expect you to serve a new master so soon after gaining your freedom,” 

“Caw?”

“So…The Witch Esther Finch turned you into a human, tell me Monty do you wish to be back in that form?”

“Caw… Caw…” He pauses, “Caw?”

“I see… Understandable you do not want to be bound to one form… even if you found thumbs incredibly useful,” He gives an amused snort and gently scratches Monty on the head, “I believe… I believe I know someone who can aid you,” 

“Caw?”

“No he is not a witch… although I guess he is bewitching in his own way,” “Caw!” (Teasing) Dream swallows, “I am… incredibly fond of him.” Dream pauses, “You… you remind me of him, he is… an incredibly kind soul, eternally joyful,” He smiles, “Even if he is a little foolish at times, His name is Robert Gadling although he prefers to go by Hob, ” Dream pauses, “So Monty The Crow if you agree, once you awake you will find yourself in London,” 

“Very well them,” Dream pulls him against his chest, “Now rest,” 

Monty rests.

Hob awakes to early morning light through the window and realises he forgot to shut the curtains again as he winces  whilst in the background he can hear the ever present drone of the traffic of 21st century London. He finds his laptop in the bed and connects dots he was planning to grade just a couple of more papers last night, but judging from the Turnitin page that greets him when he wakes up the laptop that he’d fallen asleep about a quarter into grading the first one.

Later… later. Deal with that later.  At least two cups of coffee later. 

He’s just about to pass through to the kitchen when he notices something at the living room window.

Matthew? 

No that’s not Matthew.

Wait… that’s not a raven anyway, the beak’s the wrong shape and they’re too small that’s a… 

Crow. 

Oh. 

There hadn’t been A Visit last night (It’s actually been a while but not quite long enough that Hob is worried) but Hob had in that point where reality is a little… loose between waking and sleeping had heard a whisper. It’d been somewhat cryptic (He didn’t expect anything less) but the pieces start to slot together. 

Hob shakes his head with an affectionate snort as he lifts the sash window. It’s thankfully a warm morning. 

The crow tilts their head at him. 

“Well… come on in?” 

Hob takes a step back and watches as the crow hops through the opened window, carefully he shuts it behind them. 

There’s a pause for a moment before they hop from the windowsill and then

Falll  to the ground. 

Hob is caught off guard for a second before there’s a ruffle of feathers and then. 

Ah

So that’s why there’d been something about ‘spare clothes’ that’d sounded rather out of place coming from Dream. 

Hob now looks at the dark haired teenager who had been a crow moments ago who sits on the sofa. The borrowed t-shirt and shorts hang loose on him in a way that looks more ‘Handmedowns from an older sibling’ than ‘fashionably baggy’ 

The teenager looks up at him through curtain bangs with dark eyes that are bright and… oddly captivating.

Just like someone else I know. 

“So… Monty, right?”

Monty nods. 

“Dream?” They say, voice still croaky, “Sent me to you… somehow? Said you could help me?” 

“Hopefully?” Hob clears his throat, “So… are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” 

Breakfast. Right. That’s at least a problem he can fix. 

“Ok,” Hob smiles, and hopes it looks less nervous than he feels. “I’ll go make us something and you can tell me all about… whatever’s going on,”

“Sounds great!,” Monty’s voice is bright, almost a little too bright for this time in the morning and gives him probably the softest smile he’s ever seen before Hob turns into the kitchen. 

What the hell have you gotten me into this time?

[lil-frenchfri77]

Radom Undertaker fic idea ig

Trying out clothes in the mall with your best friend is exactly how you liked spending your Saturdays. It helped you relax and unwind after an absolutely horrendous week at work.

So when you pulled back the curtains and asked "Do these jeans make my ass look big?"

The last thing you were expecting was a deep chuckle and a man's voice ringing out. Saying "well, I don't know if I'm the right person to answer that. But I'd say yea, from where I'm standing."

Your head snapped up so fast your neck cracked and you met eyes with an, at least 6'5, man with gorgeous green eyes.

Completely mortified, your hands came up to cup around your mouth in disbelief at your own foolishness. "Oh my god. I am so sorry. I thought you were my friend August, I totally did not mean to ask you that."

Mystery man chuckled at you again before attempting to relieve your worries, "heh, it's not issue. I'm not offended. Glad I could help though." He added that last bit with a cheeky grin on his face.

Your cheeks heated up a bit more, when you suddenly realized that August was no longer in the store, at least as far as you could see. So an idea, as crazy as it seemed, popped into your head. And before your brain could even process the idea your mouth was already moving, "hey, so since you're already here... Would you mind staying and giving me feedback on the rest of these clothes?"

Your face pinched up in a look of hopefulness, trying to hide your embarrassment that was sure to never go away.

Sensing that he was about to decline you beat him to the punch. You turned around and yanked the curtain closed behind you shouting a little "cool! Thank you!" over your shoulder. No answer was given to you but you didn't think too much about it.

When you opened the curtain back up, in a new pair of pants, you didn't expect to see mystery man still standing there. He was just leaning up against a rack staring so intently at you, like he could somehow see right through you.

Before you could get another word out he spoke "nah, the other pair looked better. And they fit better too" he added with a slight chuckle.

Any thought you had before was thrown right out the window. You 100% didn't expect for him to one, still be standing there and two, actually have feedback for you. So you just stood there for a good few seconds just staring at him wide eyed and stammering like a fool.

"This was fun and all but I gotta get going" he spoke again after a short few moments.

"WAIT" you said, entirely too loud for someone who was conversing with a man less than 5 feet away. "Um, I still have four shirts to try on." Your eyes turned hopeful as you peered up at him, trying to convey your want for him to stay.

"Alright then, go change." He sighed, reluctantly staying. A wide smile broke out across your face, you liked that he so easily did what you asked. Even though you had know each other for less then ten minutes.

So for the next seven minutes you modeled the four shirts for him and he gave you his honest feedback.

The first one was "not a good color", the second "fits good in all the right spots"(this one was said with a wink that made you flush), the third was "alright, nothing special bout it", but the fourth "looks so good, you should never take it off."

That last one made you giggle. With his help you decide to buy both pairs of pants and the last three shirts.

Just as you were about to part ways at the register you realized you never told each other your names.

You grabbed his arm before he could walk any further, took out the pen you always carried on you and messily scrawled out your name and number on his wrist.

"Call me, I'd love to hear from you again." You were grinning like a fool up at him. In that moment as he started down at his wrist and then you, you decided that you don't need to know his name right just yet. He was going to be your one way or another.

Authors note!!!!!!!!

I know this has absolutely nothing to do with my story but I have absolutely no motivation to write for it right now. I've been bingeing old wwe episodes from 2002 and I've fallen in love with the Undertaker 🫠, I think he's so sexy and I need him 😭

So anyways hope y'all like this change in posting, I might continue this if anyone is interested. It's just been stuck in my head for a week now and I needed to get it written out. Lol luv y'all. Byeeeeeee

[kirkodiletears]

I wanted to answer this question: (it's only a speculation)

"How intense is Luo Binghe love for the original Shen jiu and why is he so damn fixitated him for is it his looks or personality lol ? I'v read so many fics of Shen yuan identity reveal with Luo binghe and the peaklords that always ended positively but do you think it'd be the same in the canonverse? Like if Shen yuan were to reveal he wasn't the original would they react positively or negatively?"

I think 1st thing he feel in love was SJ's looks

"Shang Qinghua: “What was your first impression of the other person?”

 

Luo Binghe continued to reminisce and lightly said: “An aloof and remote, distant and untouchable immortal.”

then he started to do anything to gain SJ's attention/favor... He befriended with SJ's favorite disciple NYY, even if she always got him in trouble, then after he was pushed down to the abyss he realized that SJ would never return his feelings so he decided to destroy him, meanwhile he started to cope with it and started to pretend that SJ was a scum villain who couldn't love anyone but himself (that's probably why he never seen SJ's memories even if he was able to do so) and when YQY died he and SJ's reaction finally shattered his illusions...

Well, in my opinion, you pretty much nailed it. Especially keeping in mind the original intentions of Airplane to write PIDW as a yaoi novel with SJ (SQQ) and LBH as a OTP.

P.S.: Apparently I better quote the text of SVSSS, chapter 81 to be precise, to avoid ignorant comments. There's a huge misunderstanding going on in the English-speaking segment, probably dew to an English translation of SVSSS. Some readers are mislead by two quotes, that they take as a contradictory, which in truth, they are NOT.

The first one is from a Chapter "The story begins". It is the last chapter of the novel, after this the extras start. And this particular chapter is a culmination: this is where the truth is reveled. Like in a detective story, where we finally find out, who the killer is. This meant to become a real "bomb", that makes a reader go WOOOW!!! And this is THE KEY for understanding the whole story: the plot and the characters, especially Luo Bing-mei (and Luo Bing-ge). And speaks about the intentions of the Airplane. (original scrapped outline(c))

The second quote on the other hand speaks of an EXISTING PIDW. (original outline(c))

The first quote, from the final chapter:

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down. “You don’t look crushed at all after all this foolish messing around ended up completely changing your own novel.”

Shang Qinghua said, “You can’t say it like that ah. Maybe you think it’s just all foolish messing around that isn’t worth a damn, but for Bing-ge, your foolish messing around is probably the meaning of this entire world.”

... holy s***, Great God Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was able to say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was terrified. “F***. You didn’t turn back into the original character, did you?”

Shang Qinghua said seriously, “Don’t be like that. I’m also a young person with literary ideals. Of course, I have my own reflections and emotions.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed coldly. “What literary ideals? How come all I saw in the original work was shameless fanservice?” Not to mention his hand speed that could produce ten thousand words a day, and the courage to even occasionally explode with twenty thousand. If he didn’t have such equipment, there was no way 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 would have been able to hold out before it was serialized!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “You think that I always wrote shameless content that lacked any integrity from the very start? I’ve also written belles-lettres4 before, but they were all unpopular, so I had no choice but to go down a path that catered to the masses. It must be said that writing novels is a very lonely undertaking. Rather than writing a stallion male protagonist who’ll be stereotypical in the end, it’s more in line with my philosophy for writing to create the current Bing-ge━this kind of weirdo male protagonist whose character is a bit more complicated, has contradictions and conflicts, and has a rough destiny.”

Shen Qingqiu concluded, “So, your philosophy for writing is to write about gay guys?”

Shang Qinghua: “Do you look down upon gay male protagonists? Works of art and artists all like to create gay guys. Belles-lettres favors gays, do you know that?”

He waved his arms wildly and passionately. “Cucumber Bro, if the System hadn’t chosen you, this faithful die-hard reader, perhaps the plot wouldn’t have deviated so thoroughly, thoroughly to the point that it deviated all the way back to my original scrapped outline. Even though the me back in reality━who couldn’t endure the loneliness and was under financial pressure━chose to finish writing 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 according to other people’s preferences and what they found cool... now, all thanks to you, essentially everything that I wanted to write has already unfolded in front of my eyes. Cucumber Bro!”

He patted Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with deep sentiment and solemnity. “You... are the chosen one; as for my career, I have no more regrets!”

... why did it sound like the System and this world were both products of Shang Qinghua’s resentment over scrapping that outline and going with what was mainstream?

Shen Qingqiu, who shamefully became this kind of “chosen one”: “Who’s your faithful die-hard reader?”

Shang Qinghua waved his hand and one-sidedly declared his victory. “I’m not going to talk to you; you’re an anti-fan.”

Shen Qingqiu was about to say, “I’m only an anti, not a fan!” when he suddenly heard Shang Qinghua starting crooning something like, “Emotions are warm, kindness hard to bear, lips moving together, desires turning the evening to the next morning, never resting from dawn to dusk.” The crucial point was that melody, which sounded extremely familiar to the point that it made Shen Qingqiu’s hands and teeth itch. He pointed at him and said, “Shang Qinghua, what are you singing?”

Shang Qinghua continued to croon. “The warmth of emotions makes gratitude hard to bear. Lips to lips, locked in a kiss. Let this night linger ‘til tomorrow’s dawn. Day after day, night after night; never to end. Will tomorrow be another today? When ‘til Zheng Yang reaches its zenith? As Zheng Yang ascends, the voice of Autumn stirs. A sheathless Xiu Ya, a spurt of cold nectar. Tragic pleas amidst choked sobs, thus in vain; for he rises again5...”

Shen Qingqiu was in disbelief. “F*** you—why don’t you just try and sing another line?”

Shang Qinghua said, “Great Lord Shen, why aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You must never go around casually f***ing people. Bing-ge will go crazy. I’m telling you, this Resentment of Chunshan is equivalent to Shi Ba Mo6. You two are the legendary national homos, do you understand? I have no problems with you shutting me up, but ultimately it’s useless. You can’t possibly make all the countless people in the world shut up...”

The second quote, from the extras: "

System: 【Basic accomplishment of《Proud Immortal Demon Way》’s original outline, slight deviation of romance plot, objective accomplished. Function to return to original world download complete. Activate return home sequence?】

Basic accomplishment of the original outline, that he agreed with, all the holes which needed to be filled were filled. But, this “slight deviation of romance plot” isn’t quite right. Bing-ge is gay no━how can you say this is a “slight deviation”? Ay okay, okay. In fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge didn’t have a romance plot; he was doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insist on adding a plotline, that’s whatever, but he’s wasted this many words… you mean he can return to his original world?!?!"

The second quote is very poorly translated into English. What it actually means, is that Bing-ge does not have ANY SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP, LOVE. Nothing to do with he amount of partners he fucks. And yes - the ending for the tyrant he became in PIDW is not happy in a slightest. This is how his relationship with the harem is described by the PIDW reader's forum in the novel:

"Airplane really doesn’t know how to write romance plotlines, best if he just doesn’t. I feel like Luo Binghe doesn’t have feelings for any of his wives, he just wants to use them. And I can’t see any of those women with real moving emotion for him. "

[kalek-og]

The Abbot who Pooped at the End of the World

A warm, sunny day, full of cliches waiting to be unearthed like the stories shared in an AA meeting. In the distance, if you squinted hard enough, you would find yourself in fits of mirth upon viewing an aardvark being chased by an abacus. Yes, you read that correctly. Apparently, the creature had mistaken some of the now furious abacus’ beads for a smattering of termites (you see, the aardvark was quite blind and such mistakes can happen to anyone, of course) and proceeded to gobble them up, which leads us to the scene before us.

Let’s switch gears now, shall we? Oh! A beauteous undulating oceanic view. Abaft the ship was painted in white, a swirling star, very pre-Van Gough in its appearance. But wait, how curious! It seems to be in a state of abandon. The steering wheel of the ship seemed to abase itself in its decay. Abashed, even the waves shied away from the Lady Abattoir. As we see the mysterious fog condense into rainbow droplets and the storm abate, the abbess lies dead at the mast, her flesh fed upon by ravenous abbey nuns.

As the big ol’ boat drifted from wave to wave, it finally reached the banks of a barren island with a solitary figure- an abbot- stood, robes billowing, his eyes hollow and stricken with gravity. Speaking in abbreviations, he started laying out the ABCs of the situation to an imaginary audience before getting tired and gracefully abdicating his pseudo-journalist role. Feeling a slight rumbling in his abdomen, the holy man boarded the ship and started rummaging around for something to eat, completely oblivious to the zombified nuns chomping down on their abbess’ rotting body. Realising there was nothing to be found but some money, maps and bedding, the ancient, aberrant dude decided to abduct the boat. The delightful weather only seemed to further abet his thievery.

Oddly enough, the moon was in abeyance. Why, well, humanity, easily bribed, had agreed to have their palm greased by the abhorrent sun to abide by his rules and so, they collectively used their technological abilities to hide the moon with big, abject clouds from their industrial factories. The lunar partisans were made to abjure their fealty and set themselves ablaze quite ably in an act of ablution. This abnegation, however abnormal, would allow mankind to be aboard the solar abode and abolish the moon’s abominable tyranny.

The aboriginal aardvarks severely opposed this and appealed to humans to abort this foolish venture. “The sun will evaporate all our water!” they cried. But the two-legged creatures abound in both numbers and greed, paraded about and above with their riches and screamed abracadabra at the female aardvarks, scaring them into their homes. Such abrasive creatures…. Tch, tch, tch.

These poor creatures tried so hard to stay abreast of the ongoings but the constant abridgement in the dissemination of crucial information made them finally give up and settle abroad. The humans had, in the end, refused to abrogate and made it crystal by undertaking a mass specie-cleansing project, a final solution to all of their abscess-like, abrupt problems. But there was a mole amongst them! He quickly motorbiked to their place, abseiled down the cliff and hysterically cried, “Abscond my dear friends! They’re coming for you.”

The absence of their imminent victims made the Cleanliness Generals spit and guzzle absinthe in their fury. They wanted absolute extermination and now there was no aardvark to grant the ultimate absolution. How infuriating! So was the absolutism the sun imposed but they were rich, their kids were in Oxford. What more could they want? This in their eyes seemed to absolve the sun of all blame. “Let the sun absorb all it wants!” they intoned amongst themselves over cups of liqueur, not even pretending to abstain from the disgusting way they were avoiding being abstemious.

Meanwhile, the abbot took it upon himself to abstract all the zombies and corpses by single handedly toppling them overboard the starboard side of the ship. How he managed to do all that in the span of fifteen minutes is abstruse and absurd but remember, dear readers, this was divinity in all its abundance. Now given his tendency for abstraction, the abbot didn’t seem to realise how much he was abusing the vessel by making it voyage at unimaginable speeds. Instead, he was abutting the cloth of the sails, lost in who knows what abysmal thought.

The rippling sound of a balloon losing all its air. Uh-oh! The priest had to go poo-poo. He hastily made his way to the captain’s cabin, clenching his buttocks and feeling his innards twist in rebellion and luckily, spotted an abyss he could hover over and drop his faeces in. The AC he had accidentally left on provided a heavenly effect on his bare bottom. Wiping his hands on the bottom of his robe, the now captain, self-appointed, of course, spotted some acacias and acanthuses on the looming coastline. In his bliss, he started belting out academic a cappella, acceded to his pristine role with a brand new captain’s hat and hit the accelerator button, not caring if he crash landed and pulverised the ship in the process.

BOOM! The ship splintered into infinity and the holy old man cartwheeled- he would claim it’s of his own volition but please don’t believe him- several times in the air and miraculously landed in a classic superhero pose, one knee on the ground, the other leg outstretched, looking all in all very cool. I ought to accent however, that however accentuated his aesthetic appeal may be, do not fall for him, my dearest female audience, as hard as you may find it to be. You deserve better- not by a lot, but still- you must accept.  And even then, it wouldn’t really be acceptable for a wizened bastard to be seen with such fine ladies such as yourself, now would it?

Suddenly, darkness filled the air. A glowing disk of bluish-white light illuminated the sky, with stars angrily blinking back tears, some falling and streaking across the black. Then a barrage of them, filling the obsidian domain with what humans would call a meteor shower. What had happened was that several of the wooden planks and splinters had acted as a bolt from the blue for the lazing hydrogen disk and had accessed his control centre, completely vandalizing it beyond repair. The entirety of the sun began malfunctioning horribly, the sky switching from blue to pink to black, the glitch creating the most stunning auroras known in the history of mankind.

Slowly but surely, the aardvarks returned, triumphant, hailing the abbot as their leader and overthrew those pesky humans. Now the male aardvarks, upon seeing any human female, would scream abracadabra in her face and laugh as he watched her scurry into her cave. Their homes had of course, been overtaken by the animal populace.

And they all lived happily, or some, grumpily, ever after.

The End.