#and not active homophobia like please stop

[ssaalexblake]

The fandom experience is watching Those spi/rk fans say the problem is that they paired spock with the Wrong woman and everybody was fine with Uhura and Spock in the aos movies like i do not remember very easily with no trouble at all the metric shitton of racist misogynistic biphobic sludge that came from fandom from that other thing actually happening in those movies.

Like, I was not even IN the fandom then and I saw all that from the outside, so that means it would have been worse behind the curtain. This is not the argument you think it is.

[traegorn]

Girl you can rant and rave all day but we all know for a fact you can't vote your way out of this mess so your "genuinely, what else can we do?" sounds like pure cucked defeatism. This downward spiral of American fascism has proven stable, so no, voting isn't going to stop it. The democrats will never be pushed left - as proven by blatant history. I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Voting isn't going to solve any of this, and no voting isn't going to "clear the way" or make it easier to resist. Democrats have proven over and over and over again they will use the full force of violence to stop anything that truly threatens them and the ONLY WAY to stop American fascism is to threaten them, to threaten the very foundations of the system itself.

You exert all this effort, have all this pained frustration, over the weakest political action you can take. You are not challenging fascism or tyranny or helping any of the people harmed under bipartisan violence. You ignore these people and focus on "harm reduction" for the few who do benefit from the pitiful social safety nets democrats eke out only to be undermined in the next four or eight years as republicans INEVITABLY take back power. Such is the case of a two party system, as history proves. You're staving off the inevitable by exerting all this energy into electoralism, and the people you "save" by electing democrats are inevitably hurt anyways when republicans INEVITABLY take back power - because that's what the system guarantees.

You exist in a cycle of abuse with the American government, a punishment-reward system under the 2 parties that keeps you afraid of punishment and too desperate for reward that you ignore how the hand that feeds you is also putting kids in cages and blowing up babies overseas. You, and everyone who thinks like you, will never be the ones to save anybody.

Idk I was pissed and now got all sad again after writing this. Just so you know my being sad at the state of your ideology isn't a representation of my passivity that people like you like to construe - I am painfully politically active. But it's just...sick. You're stuck in an abusive cult and now I just feel bad for you

I'm usually a lot nicer when I reply to folks, but you brought a certain energy that deserves a different response. I want to be clear to any passersby who I'd normally be polite to in this kind of conversation: This energy is reserved only for chucklefucks who bring this kind of shit to me. Please do not take this as a reflection as to how I'd treat people willing to engage honestly and civilly with me. This anon came to me unprovoked, so they're getting a rather unique response.

So here we go.

Oi, shit head. This was the stupidest thing I've read all day.

Democrats 100% have moved left in the last 40 years. Are we still recovering from when they got dragged right by Reagan in the 80s? Yes. But we've made headway getting things back on track. You claim a lot of stuff here, but don't cite a single example. Likely because you just repeat what someone else told you on TikTok that one time. You couldn't find your way through actual theory if it smacked you in the face with its dick. But you don't want me to actually justify it.

Because your own words told me you'd dismiss any evidence I provided:

I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Bitch, this shit is a sliding scale. Trump authorized more drone strikes than Obama did in eight years. Are they bad? Yes. But if you're telling me you want more murders, Trump's your guy. Guess what, living in America means dealing with the fact that you've been complicit in genocide this whole time. Look at the land you stand on -- it is soaked in blood. Look at the smart phone you're reading this on, it literally came out of a genocide.

You bathe in blood every day, fucking figure it out.

We do our best to minimize harm. And if you'd ACTUALLY read or watched anything I've said, your two half dead braincells would have noticed the part where I constantly say "voting is not the end of your activism." It's the fucking start.

Either Harris or Trump will be the next President. Trump will be worse. If you aren't doing everything you can to stop him, you're not a leftist, you're a grandstanding piece of shit who doesn't care about anything other than the smell of your own farts.

You want to fuck up the two parties? Great. Put in the fucking work -- because the Presidential election ain't it, shithead. Build a real movement from the ground up. Build community, build a party system, run local candidates. When's the last time your ass went to a city council meeting or a school board meeting? Do you even know when they're held where you live?

But let's face it, you couldn't coalition build if you tried because you're so far up your own ass you kiss your small intestine goodnight.

Daddy Revolution ain't coming, shithead. There's work to do, so get your head out of your ass and do it.

You want Trump to win? Netanyahu would kiss you on the lips for it. Fuck off.

[deadsetobsessions]

AU List

Hello! Welcome! This is my attempt at keeping the AU's boiuncing around in my head in order. They should be mostly in chronological order.

Some of them are getting turned into full length fics! The list (and it's open to suggestions) can be found here: Fic List

A couple of things:

Please feel free to write your own fics based on any of these! No need to ask, simply link it so I can also read it <3

If you have any specific scenarios you have an idea for and would like me to write- my asks/prompts are always open! I can't guarantee quality as I do most of my writing at like, 3 AM but I'll try my best!

I don't condone racism, bigotry, homophobia, etc.. I do not welcome it here. I acknowledge that I have biases that I've yet to unlearn. If there's something that makes you feel unwelcome in the things I write, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.

I write these mostly on little to no sleep (that’s when I get creative I guess?) so good luck.

Update: Apparently you can have too many links on one post (which was news to me) so the links are in the titles lol

Squatter!Danny Phantom Raises Tim

Tim 'self-preservation instinct of a wet paper bag' finds Danny Phantom squatting in his house as an injured vigilante and they immediately adopt each other.

Ghost King and the Justice League

Different scenarios where the Justice League (and extensions) deal with a Ghost King Danny Phantom, who generally just wants to get some sleep and avoid his paperwork like he avoids his problems- actively and indiscriminately.

Alcoholic! Danny Adopts Jason Todd (Fic)

Danny Phantom, a struggling alcoholic, finds his way into Gotham where he adopts a young Jason Todd... after accidentally making a name for himself, again.

Spider in Gotham (Fic)

Peter Parker found himself unceremoniously dumped into Gotham and merged with his younger, formerly dead, alternate self.

Gotham! Danny and His Bats

Different scenarios wherein which Danny Phantom is Gotham's city spirit and the task of wrangling Gotham's vigilante and villainous population is laid at his feet.

Danny in Gotham

Somehow, somewhen, Danny finds himself moving to Gotham. Other than the aesthetics, Danny finds it to be pretty similar to Amity Park's insanity.

Sea Cryptic!Danny Phantom

Danny Phantom cleans beaches in his off time. One day, he has to pick Batman (and his plane that was littered all over the ocean floor) out of the sea.

Danny Gets Yeeted (Yoted?) Into Gotham

Danny Phantom dented the Batmobile and got an adoption, vigilante siblings, and a gang of kids following him for his troubles/

Danielle "Dani/Ellie" Phantom

Danielle Phantom travelled to Gotham. Gotham encounters a wild Danny amidst its tall towers.

Timothy Drake-Centric

When Tim Drake is set on something, very little can stop him, With sub catergories : Reincarnated as Gamer! Timmy Drake (fem Tim)(Fic) and New Tim-line, Who Dis?

Reincarnated as Damian Wayne's Older Sister

Based on a nightmare, an OC finds themself reincarnated as Damian Wayne's older sister. She does not have a good time.

Prompts Found

A collection of prompts found and filled. Includes Triplet Tim and Reverse Trope Prompt.

Misc. ficlets and thoughts

My brain vs. whatever errant thoughts and ideas that decided to pop up when I'm trying to sleep.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (41)

Asgard

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 41- W/c 7.3k

Asgard

The sound of a whir from the coffee machine knocked you out of your tired and peaceful state, a displeased grumble leaving your lips as you curled up into a ball on the sofa, cradling a cup of coffee you made earlier in an attempt to wake you up, a huff leaving you as you sank further into the cushions behind you. Eventually, the gentle sound stopped, your fingers wrapping around your mug in irritation as you did not want to get up yet, you wished to climb back into bed and fall back asleep to finish off your unusual dream as it was far too early to be up during your holidays.

At your usual reluctance to enjoy the tranquillity of the morning, Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle softly behind you in the kitchen as she made her morning drink, shaking her head at your antics as she effortlessly manoeuvred around the kitchen, green eyes occasionally flickering towards your form on the sofa, admiring the gentle sun rays that peaked through the gaps in the curtain, illuminating the room in a gentle glow as she took in your body, curled up adorably with your eyes closed, clearly daydreaming about your shared bed again.

“Detka,” she hummed out gently, quietly walking over to you before gently moving to sit next to you, her body pressing into your side as you make a sound of acknowledgement, the loose strands of her hair that framed her face perfectly brushing against your cheek as she pressed a delicate kiss to your skin, your cheeks immediately heating up at the domestic action, your heart always beating wildly at the amount of affection she showed you. “Good morning,” she murmured teasingly, laughing softly as you shifted around to be settled in her arms, tired eyes trying to force themselves open, tempted to just stay shut and let sleep take over you once again.

“I hate mornings,” you grumble as you press your head against her shoulder, wanting to go back to bed with your loving girlfriend, a little annoyed at yourself for bringing this early morning upon yourself when you asked the older woman if you could take the twins to the theme park in the bath just over a week ago. The two of you eventually settled on a date and time later that evening, planning to spend a couple days at the park to hopefully explore all nine realms and enjoy the onsite hotel as well meeting all the entertainers and take part in all the activities the boys would love.

“Trust me, I know Detka,” she teases. “All I ever seem to do is drag you out of bed,” she mutters, pressing another kiss to the top of your head as you huff out a laugh, placing your drink down before wrapping your arms around her body and snuggling closer to her warmth despite the temperature outside.

“But the bed is so comfy,” you grumble, arguing your case for never wanting to leave your sheets as you had everything you could ever want there. Her cuddles and soft body were worth spending eternity there.

“The sofa is also comfortable,” she argues back, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she leans her head against the top of yours. “Plus, if we were in bed right now I can guarantee we’d have two boys trying to break our door down,” she jokes as she could picture the boys waking up at their alarms, practically jumping out of bed and rushing to go for showers, wanting to go to the theme park as soon as possible.

As if on cue, the sound of rushed footsteps and giggles could be heard descending down the stairs, a muffled chuckle leaving you as you smile against her body, preparing yourself for the two bundles of energy that were about to invade your peaceful moment.

Moments later, the two boys with bed hair came running into the room, smiles engraved on their faces as they did not hesitate to jump on the furniture with you, a puff of air leaving you as Billy lands at your side and Tommy half on top of you, your expression inevitably morphing into joy at their elated moods.

“Be careful,” Wanda motherly scolds but the boys pay no attention as they're too busy bouncing with energy, Tommy wriggling his way in between you and Wanda and you can’t help but smile at the twins. Your fingers fix Billy's hair while Wanda presses a kiss to Tommy’s head, both of their smiles growing wider as they both excitedly cheer,

“We're going to Asgard today!” Tommy exclaims while throwing his arms up in celebration, his little mind running wild with exciting thoughts about all the rollercoasters and fun fair games to play. Billy lets out a just as elated cheer as you and Wanda both chuckle at them, a playful smile growing on your lips as you plan to tease them.

“We are,” you laugh out innocently before wrapping your arms around Tommy and rolling over briefly with him in your arms, a small squeal leaving him as you position him next to his brother who laughs at the embarrassing noise, your body now next to Wanda’s again, her front flush against your back as she also places her drink down, not wanting to spill any. “After I get my morning cuddle from your mom though,” you tease, Wanda shaking her head at your antics but still wrapping her arm around your body and pulling you impossibly closer for an embrace, Tommy and Billy making a displeased noise.

“That’s not fair,” Billy grumbles whilst moving with his brother, the two of them watching as you and Wanda can’t hide your amused smiles. “I want to cuddle Mom too,” he says, Tommy working with him as they try to climb over your body to steal their mother away from you, laughter spilling from their lips as you tickle them both to keep them away.

“She’s mine,” you dramatically say, shielding her from the two boys, determination creeping onto their faces as you squint playfully at them. “My girlfriend, my cuddles,” you mutter out, smiling as you feel Wanda’s body shake in laughter behind you, her warm body just so comfortable pressed up against you as she props her head on your body, her heart melting at the way her boys mouths part in shock, their bodies swiftly moving away from your poking fingers and over your body, swarming Wanda from the other side with triumphant expressions.

The older woman shifts her position to accommodate all of you, Billy melting into her embrace whilst her fingers go to Tommy’s hair, playing with his messy locks and attempting to fix it, her head shaking at all of your antics as you also snuggle further into her, pressing a kiss to her cheek which makes the boys groan, her softening green meeting yours with an enamoured look.

The gaze prolongs as you let your gaze admire every single delicate swirl of green, mesmerised by how expressive her eyes were as they overflowed with love and affection, the intimate look only being broken by the one of the boys moving to find a more comfortable position, your gaze drifting to the twins’ wide and bright grins.

“I’m sure there are enough cuddles for everyone,” she softly teases, kissing you all on the top of your heads lovingly, earning a chorus of laughter from the three of you. “In fact, if you all want cuddles so much, we could just spend all day in bed cuddling instead of going to Asgar-”

“No!” Both twins quickly rush out, moving partly off their mother, eyes wide and heads shaking, expressing their disagreement with Wanda’s words.

“We want to go to Asgard,” Tommy clarifies, the serious look in his eyes cracking Wanda’s composure, her heart fluttering once again in her chest.

“Ok Dorogoy, don’t worry, we’re going,” she whispers comfortingly, his smile returning as she continues, “But if we want to go soon, you two both need to go get into the showers,” she reminds them, the boys practically jumping off the sofa to go and do as their mother said, two little ‘goodbyes’ sounding around the room as they race each other to their own bathroom, the loser having to use the guest one.

You can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm, head tilting to the side to press your lips to Wanda’s briefly, seemingly unable to wipe the smile off your face at the sound of the boys bickering over the showers and the feeling of her soft, addictive lips touching yours. However, it does drop slightly as she pulls away quicker than you would have wanted, your brows furrowing as she climbs of the sofa, looking over her shoulder at you mischievously as she starts to walk towards the stairs, leaning against the banister and chuckling at the way you were watching the sway of her hips.

“Come on Detka, don’t you want to shower with me?” She purrs out, walking up a couple steps whilst gazing at you teasingly, biting her lip seductively at you as you practically throw yourself off the furniture and stumble towards her body as she starts to rush up the stairs to your room, sliding her shirt over her head once the door was locked, her fist finding its way to your shirt and grasping at the material, pulling your body towards hers, lips claiming yours passionately as your hand blindly reaches out for her “We have to be quick,” she mumbles in between heated kisses, your shirt being carelessly discarded somewhere as you both swiftly strip, bodies soon under the warm spray as you bite gently on her lower lip before pulling back.

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” you chuckle out, dropping to your knees before her, not wanting to waste any time.

***

A shameless smile toyed at the corner of your lips as you heard the boys complain about their mother being late for getting into the car, your teeth biting down on your lower lip to try and suppress the grin that wanted to take over your face, your head turning to the side to watch the older woman lock the house up, carrying her handbag over to the car as she meets your amused stare, her head shaking slightly.

“Mom,” Tommy whines, opening his window and poking his head out of it to look at his mother, “We’re going to be late,” he complains, his eyes conveying his worry of not getting to spend enough time in the theme park, Wanda letting out a huff as she manages to get her bag into the boot around all of your suitcases, yours and the twins already in as you were in charge of them two and their luggage as Wanda securely locked the house up.

“We’ll be fine Dorogoy,” Wanda says softly, checking a list off in her mind as to what she needed to do, her body soon entering the car at the driver’s seat, her hands pushing her auburn strands out of her face as you look back at the boys with a mischievous and cheeky grin.

“But Wanda,” you say dramatically, her sighing under her breath at the three of you teaming up on her. “We’re only going to have about six hours..” you check the time on the car, noting she was eight minutes late, “and twenty two minutes in the park now,” her head tilts at you, daring you to say anymore making you and the twins chuckle, her semi glare fading at the sound of genuine laughter filling the car.

“Behave or I’ll make you share a bed with one of the twins,” she mutters playfully, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as you smile into it, her pulling back and starting the engine, looking over her shoulder to reverse out of the driveway, your eyes raking over her angelic features, still amazed by her beauty.

“You love my cuddles too much, you wouldn’t dare,” your tone teasing as the boys groan at the previous display of affection, your gaze focussing on how the corner of her lips tug up into a gentle and tender smile, a hum leaving her in response.

“Is that so?” her voice conveys her amusement at your words as the boys peek around their hands to see if the ‘gross’ kiss had ended. “Dorogorie, who wants to share with Y/n tonight?” Wanda asks, her eyes drifting to the rear view mirror to look at the boys, smiling softly as they both grin with excitement as your face drops, a look of shock taking over your face.

“Woah, wait a minute-”

“I do!”

“Me!”

Laughter spills from Wanda’s lips at the difference in reactions, her head turning to yours with a soft, teasing smile, a groan leaving you as you sink further into the seat, your head shaking at her antics.

“You clearly don’t love my cuddles that much then,” you mutter, earning a soft, barely audible chuckle from her, a sign of her enjoyment as she moves her hand to rest on your thigh, squeezing comfortingly. Your hand reaches down to play with hers, fingers tracing over the smooth pads of her fingertips, dipping lower to her palm before dragging over to the back of her hand, caressing her knuckles repeatedly and occasionally over the ridge her vein created softly, satisfied with the small but intimate moment of physical touch.

“I love your cuddles more than anything Detka,” she whispers with an annoyingly soft voice, your faux annoyance crumbling away immediately at the loving tone, your smile threatening to take over your lips.

“Mhmm,” you hum in response, letting a soft, quiet atmosphere wrap around the two of you in the front as the boys in the back talk, excitement clearly bubbling inside them as they refuse to sit still and quietly, resulting in you being dragged into random questions occasionally.

“Y/n?” Tommy asks, after an entire minute of silence, a sigh of defeat leaving you as you fold the corner of the page you were reading of the book you brought, carefully closing it and giving the twins all of your attention as Wanda continued to drive, her green holding a glint of mirth at the boy’s actions.

“Yes Tommy?” You murmur out, sliding the object back into the backpack you brought before leaning back into the seat, ready to be interrogated about another random question.

“Is the moon actually made of cheese?” He asks, a genuine curiosity lacing his tone as he looks outside, as if thinking hard about the topic, Billy laughing next to him. “Miss Danvers said it was made of rocks but I don’t get it, why do people care about a floating rock? A floating block of cheese sounds more interesting,” he mumbles, further entertaining you as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, noticing the slight annoyance at the mention of Carol.

At the mention of the other woman, a mischievous glint appears in your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you plan to torment the older woman next to you, Tommy still looking out of the window rather thoughtfully, picturing the moon made of cheese and trying to break a piece off, wondering what kind of cheese it would taste like.

“Well, Miss Danvers is an incredibly smart woman, I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about,” your tone emphasising your praise for their teacher, Billy agreeing with your statement as he loved to listen to the blonde, his attitude towards learning extremely different to his brother who’s mind naturally drifted off towards what the food at Asgard would be like, his little stomach craving cheese now.

You bite your lip to contain your laughter as you look over at Wanda, her jaw visibly clenching as you tease her, your smile breaking out as you hear her mutter something in Sokovian, the words clearly inappropriate.

“What was that Wanda?” Your tone playful as Wanda sends you a mini glare, her hand squeezing yours in warning as she focuses back on the road, her head occasionally turning to look at you, her eyes rolling at the smug expression on your face.

“I asked if you wanted to sleep on the floor tonight instead,” she mumbles, your soft giggle dissipating her mood instantly as she admired the way your smile stretched wider, the way your eyes gleamed with joy at annoying her. You simply flashed her a bright grin, your fingers caressing her hand softly in apology as you chuckled to yourself at how fun it was to rile her up, the two of you leaving the conversation and enjoying a moment's silence when Tommy spoke up again, thinking out loud by mistake.

“Would it taste like Cheddar?” He muttered quietly, genuinely confused over the situation, Wanda’s gaze softening as she looked at him in the rear mirror before tilting her head to meet your gaze, warmth and affection consuming her as you shared a look.

This was going to be a long car ride.

***

Arriving at the hotel Nidavellir, you gave the boys their backpacks, watching with a soft smile as they hurriedly took the item from you, running to catch up with their mother who was going to find out what room you were all in whilst you brought the suitcase in. Eventually, you managed to get the large case out of the boot, grabbing your own backpack for during the days where you’d be roaming the realms before shrugging Wanda’s handbag over your shoulder too, slowly but surely making your way over to the lobby where the three of them waited, room keys in hand.

The kind receptionist Eitri explained to you how to get to your room, wishing you all a nice stay as you entered the elevator, the small boys next to you practically buzzing with excitement, their eyes taking in the brightly decorated walls of the hotel, the space themed onsite hotel something Billy adored.

Twisting the key in the door, Wanda opened it and swiftly moved out of the way, knowing the twins were about to sprint through and admire the room, their little faces engraved with joy and enthusiasm.

A bunk bed with various stars and colourful planets painted along the side of the wooden frame was in the corner of the room, the walls surrounding you a deep blue whilst a large image of a neutron star peeked from behind the doubled bed that was closer to the entrance and the ensuite, the orange, red and yellow hues contrasting the hidden hints of purple and blue in the navy coloured walls. The room was beautiful and vibrant for the children, there was no denying that but it also had a different sense of beauty that you and Wanda admired as the twins bickered about who could have the top bunk, the two of them deciding on playing rock, paper, scissors to determine the winner.

You watched intrigued as Tommy won, swiftly making his way up the ladder and flopping against the mattress, leading you to decide to copy him and dramatically fall against the double bed you and Wanda were sharing, her raising her brow at you as she moved the cases somewhere out of the way before quickly peeking into the ensuite to see what it looked like.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she murmurs, leaning against the wall and taking in the sight of you lifting your head with a large grin plastered on your face, her head shaking at you playfully as she watches the twins play with one another.

“Testing the bed,” you tease, looking at her with mirth in your eyes, enjoying the way she gazes at you lovingly.

“I don’t know if I still want to share with you,” she murmurs as she moves to sit on the edge of the bed, a taunting smirk lifting the corner of her lips. “That looks like a good spot on the floor, don’t you think?” You simply pull her down against your body at her words, chuckling at her blatant tease whilst letting her head rest on your shoulder, her enchanting green flickering across the planet lights hanging from the ceiling, tinting the room in a colourful light.

You feel her relax against you, taking a moment to recover after driving for such a long time, your hand moving to glide comfortingly up and down her arms, fingertips delicately brushing across her skin soothingly as you take advantage of the peace, knowing there wouldn’t be many calm moments like this for the rest of the day.

Sooner than you would have liked, the boys ask to start their adventure around one of the realms, Wanda’s head tilting to look at her boys, asking them where they wanted to go first before reluctantly pushing her body up, leaving your welcoming embrace to start the exploration of one of the realms.

***

Entering Jotunheim, you were stunned by how beautiful and exciting the realm looked, the ice-like structures towering around you all as you walked down the busy path. The stone walkway was filled with adults trying to contain their exhilarated children, entertaining mascots in ice giant costumes and various props related to the ice kingdom, stalls with food and drink emitting a smell that had your taste buds watering, the sweet treats catching yours and the twins attention as you strolled past people, figuring out what to do first.

The feeling of a hand tugging on yours eagerly caused your head to snap down at Tommy, trying to follow his gaze to the ride he desperately wanted to try, your eyes landing on the sign next to the entrance warning about how this ride involved water, your smile tugging upwards as it would be nice to cool off in a little water for a bit, the sun beating down on you all.

“Can we go on the Ancient Winter’s Avalanche?” Tommy asked, his tone showing how hyper he was as he turned to you and his mother, Billy’s eyes widening in a thrilled manner at noticing the ride, his face showing he was just as eager to go on the ride too.

“Of course,” you say, excitement seeping into your voice as, if you were being honest, you were just as happy as the twins were to be here, smiling brightly at them before turning to Wanda, not noticing the hint of anxiety on her face as she looked at the ride, letting a slightly forced smile grow on her lips.

“I think I’ll let you three go on this one,” Wanda murmurs to you, concern and disappointment growing on your face as you wanted to do the first ride all together, still oblivious to the older woman’s fear of rollercoasters. “I don’t want to get wet,” she excuses, pointing to the sign you had read earlier, understanding her and offering her a small smile.

“You seemed to like getting wet earlier,” you tease whilst the twins check they are tall enough for the ride, Wanda smacking your arm lightly in warning, kissing your cheek whilst rolling her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? We can try a different ride first if you want?” your tone soft as you gaze into her green, her features softening at your kindness.

“Go have fun on the ride,” she mutters into a kiss, “I want to watch you three get soaked,” she chuckles out, having caught a glimpse of the ride when you were walking past, knowing you were about to get drenched and deciding to let you three figure that out.

“I knew you loved watching me get wet,” you joke once more before she pushes you softly, encouraging you to go and stand with the twins and get in the queue, not wanting it to build up.

The three of you waited rather impatiently for the queue to move, far too interested in just having fun going on the ride as the family in front of you climbed into the available seats, your eyes observing the shuttle you would be in as it slowly appeared in front of you.

It looked like a glacier that was shaped into a rectangle shape, the twins having to sit in front of you in the single seats, your body at the top of the seating arrangement, reminding you of the log rides you went on when you were younger, a certain realisation dawning upon you as the worker ensured the safety bar was secure. Wanda was right, you were about to get soaked.

Machines started to whir as your shuttle started to move, the three of you being surrounded by an ice cave as a small story played out, your eyes more focussed on the boys in front of you, the overwhelming amount of anticipation in their eyes as they waited for what was to happen next. Brightly coloured lights illuminated the what was once the darker cave, the mechanisms pushing the shuttle sounding a little louder as the three of you started climbing uphill, occasionally taking a sudden turn or feeling a bump, the unexpected movements making you smile at how the twins laughed, part of you unsure whether it was nerves or excitement. Your finger moved to poke Tommy in the back of his neck, earning a small scream from him and a chorus of laughter from you and Billy as the shuttle picked up speed, throwing you around a little more violently as it gradually made it’s ascent, the sight of the end of the tunnel you were in causing your own heart to beat that little bit faster, trying to prepare you for what was to come.

“Put your hands up if you’re not scared,” you instruct the twins, Tommy enthusiastically doing so whilst Billy’s attempt was more cautious, your eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight that you were now exposed to as you teetered on the edge of the drop, the water around the shuttle running down into a pool at the bottom, ready for the three of you to crash through.

The ride stutters, only adding to the anticipation as you are eventually thrown forwards, speeding up significantly as you crashed through the water, waves of the cold liquid smashing down on you, screams leaving the three of you at how cold the water actually was, laughter escaping the three of you as a few more sprays coated you. Your hands pushed back your wet locks as you realised how truly wet you were, your shirt and shorts sticking to you uncomfortably for the moment, your mind noting that you’d dry off extremely quickly in the heat and sun, the cold sensation growing a little more pleasurable as you continued your bumpy journey back to the start of the ride.

The three of you laughed the whole way to the exit, Tommy’s hair a wild mess as he shook it, trying to get rid of as much water as possible, Billy copying and doing the same towards his brother, payback for spraying him with some. You took a more civilised approach of drying your hair by squeezing the water out of it, following the twins as Wanda stood there with an enormous grin in her face, amusement overflowing from the pools of green as she pointed her phone at you, taking a picture of your wet and bedraggled forms.

The twins strook a pose making you laugh, naturally smiling for the picture before you walked over to the older woman, a teasing and playful look in your eyes as you opened your arms, clearly trying to get a hug from her.

“Hi love,” you innocently say, Wanda’s hand moving to your chest and pushing you back, not letting you soak her as you chuckle, her green looking up and down your body and laughing softly at how drenched you were.

“No,” she mutters, knowing what you were trying to do, her gaze warning you to not try and soak her as you put your hands up in surrender, deciding instead to mess Tommy’s damp hair up once more to annoy him, the sun already having dried you off a bit from the walk back.

The four of you wandered around the ice realm for the most part of the day, your attention focussing on how the older woman came up with an excuse for any ride, a confused and disappointed expression on your face as she said no once more to a rollercoaster as you made your way into a new realm, wanting to explore another section of the theme park before retreating to the hotel for the night. You started to walk towards the Dragon’s Lair with the twins, now in Muspelheim, unable to stop yourself from looking back at Wanda, observing how she sat on a small wall near the entrance, waiting once again for the three of you to go and have fun on the ride. You wracked your brain for an answer, the only thing coming up being she had a fear of rollercoasters or heights, part of you doubting the idea though as you thought she would have told you if she did fear the rides instead of keeping it a secret.

The boys chatted amongst themselves as you pondered over Wanda, deciding to ask her about it after the ride as you started to make your way to the front of the queue, your eyes taking in the multiple dragon statues lining the hallway, the vibrant red and orange flickering lights at the mouths when you walked past and triggered the sensors.

The corner of your lips lifted at the amazed ‘wow’ that left Tommy’s lips at the sight of the shuttles, the three of you perfectly aligned with the front carriage where the dragon head was, the impressive scales and detail on the design visible as you climbed into your seats, the twins extremely excited to be at the front.

You listened to the dragon roar and growl that echoed around the room, Billy’s hand reaching to hold onto yours as he did for the previous rides that scared him a little, squeezing reassuringly to calm him down as the ride slowly started to move.

Darkness surrounded you as you slowly crawled through the small story part of the ride, witnessing various dragons hidden around the lair, more fire leaving their mouths as you descended for a bit, picking up speed as the growling got louder, the eyes of the dragon carriage you were in lighting up. An excited giggle left Tommy when you suddenly started to climb up hill, the sight of an opening visible whilst you accelerated up to the opening of the cave, the ride speeding up to help you reach the peak before stuttering at the top, a gust of air tickling the back of your necks whilst fog settled around you, the other ‘dragon’ getting closer.

At a sudden, deep roar, the ride shot forwards, sending you flying out of the tunnel and back outside, fire erupting out of the side of the exit as you whizzed past, twisting and turning and as you sped along the tracks. A scream left the people behind you when you tilted slightly near a dragon's mouth, just avoiding it as you escaped the lair and the fire creatures chasing you, a sudden drop making you scream yourself as it took you by surprise, Billy’s grip on your hand increasing.

Only once the ride slowly returned the start again did Billy let go of you, a smile on your face despite the small pain in your hand from how tightly he held it as you helped him get off, his face however showing nothing but enthusiasm despite his anxiety when on the ride, amusing you as he clearly loved going on them, he was just a little apprehensive. You loved the contrast to Tommy who had his hands in the air the entire ride, giggling at the noises others made as he cheered in delight, ecstatic with how fast you were going.

Eventually, you made your way back to Wanda, watching her with a tender look as she was talking to another couple, the baby in the father’s hands reaching out to play with her hair, trying to wrap their tiny little fingers around her auburn locks before giving up, deciding to try and steal her sunglasses instead as the older woman smiled, clearly enjoying herself playing with the baby.

Swiftly, you took your own phone out and took a picture of her, enamoured by the wide grin on her face as she pulled faces at the baby, eliciting giggle after giggle, their little fingers constantly reaching out for her. The twins approached first, excited by the cute baby and the many toys in its pram as their other young child, probably a few years younger than the twins, played with a stuffed dragon they had clearly gotten from the stall next to the ride you were just on.

“Who’s this little cutie?” you murmur softly as you smile at the baby who was amazed at so many people being near, a bewildered look on their face as Wanda kissed your cheek, wrapping her arm around your middle and leaning her body against yours whilst introducing you to Sue and Reed Richards and their two children, Franklin and Valeria. It entertained you to watch how the family interacted, the way the twins loved to ramble with Franklin over all the rides they’d been on and all the food they’d eaten, yours and Wanda’s attention on the blonde little girl in Richards arm’s as he gently rocked her. You only parted ways when Valeria started to cry, seeming to need changing prompting you to wish them all a good day before finding another ride to go on, your hand clasping Wanda’s as you followed the twins leading you to the Bifrost ride, your head turning to admire the older woman, deciding to ask her about the rides.

“Are you scared of rollercoasters?” you asked softly whilst the boys measured themselves against the height minimum, having to wait in a small queue. At your words, she offered you a sheepish smile, giving you your answer as your features soften, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand soothingly. “Why did you say yes to the theme park then? I feel bad just leaving you to wait for us,” you murmur, Wanda smiling at your care, wanting her to have fun on this trip too.

“You and the twins were so excited to come, I’d rather you all have fun and me be bored for a couple days then us not going at all,” she explains, offering you a reassuring expression to ease your guilt, a small peck also helping grow your smile as your cheeks tint pink at the love in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, confused as to why she was secretive with it.

“I was just embarrassed,” she mutters shyly, “Look how small some of the children are going on the rides,” her gaze encouraging you to look at a family with three young girls, the tiny bundles of joy showing nothing but eagerness to go on the rollercoaster. “I’m a fully grown woman and I can’t even get on one of them,” she grumbles, clearly annoyed at how scared she was, her fingers playing with yours as they always did when she was anxious.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you whisper comfortingly, “Everyone’s scared of something.” She meets your loving and tender gaze, relaxing a bit as she gazes at you, thankful for your support. You were always so supportive of her, it was sometimes odd to her, not used to such a caring partner after Vision. “Plus, people are scared of a lot of weird things,” you mumble playfully, earning a nose scrunch at your next words, “Like chickens.”

At the angelic laugh that escapes her, you can’t help but admire her humoured features, smiling to yourself as she shakes her head at you gently, thinking back to the memory of your first date when you confessed your fear of chickens to her, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way you look at her.

“That is pretty weird,” she teases, making you huff out a laugh.

“It’s justified,” you mumble, earning another genuine smile, “Just like your fear.” The sight of the twins running back, elated expressions on their faces as they were tall enough for the ride, makes you look back to Wanda, an idea entering your mind. “Would you be willing to try a ride?” You ask with no pressure behind your words, her expression dropping to hesitant and apprehensive, fingers fidgeting with yours more as she considers trying to face her fear. “The height minimum is lower on this ride then others, so it’s probably one of the tamer rides,” you explain, giving her the option of trying it out as you think it would be nice for you all to go on one together but if she didn’t want to, you were perfectly fine with that. “I’ll even let you squeeze my hand the whole ride,” you add light-heartedly, offering her a reassuring smile as you can see her considering it.

“Promise me it’s not a scary ride,” she whispers, tone small and clearly nervous.

“I promise,” you murmur back, kissing her softly before the twins finally get back to you, their grins practically reaching their ears when they find out their mother would be joining them on this ride, her hand not letting go of yours as you make your way to the queue.

You let Wanda absentmindedly toy with your hand, letting the pads of her fingertips trace along your knuckles and every little ridge of your hand whilst you listened to the boys ramble about all the rides they’d been on with you to their mother, unable to contain their excitement and unknowingly helping Wanda’s nerves as they kept her mind off the approaching ride.

Slowly but surely, you made your way through the queue and eventually climbed into the shuttle, the twins sitting in front of you and Wanda as she gripped onto your hand, your face remaining calm despite her intense grip.

“It’s going to be ok,” your tone soft and comforting to help her as the worker ensured the safety bar was secure, a deep breath leaving her as she tries to take in the colourful design of the ride. “I’m here,” you murmur, squeezing her hand back as best you could under her hold, her nervous green meeting yours to reassure herself.

Gradually, the ride started to move, her other hand gripping the bar in front of her as you smiled at her being brave and facing her fear, a small wave of pride bubbling inside you whilst the ride continued.

Everything was going well as you gently raced around the simple part of the track, a chuckle leaving you once you realised the colourful scenery and track reminded you of the Mario Kart racetrack rainbow road before you felt a small pain in your hand at the way Wanda clutched onto you, the rollercoaster suddenly starting an uphill climb that she wasn’t enjoying.

Suddenly, to both your surprises, the shuttle sped up before reaching the top, sending you  over the medium sized hill and ‘whizzing’ down the slope, a chant of ‘oh god’ leaving the older woman’s lips as her eyes widened, mouth parting in shock and terror at the way the ride twisted around corners and raced back around to the uphill climb as you looped the track. The twins seemed rather disappointed with the ride at how slow it actually was in comparison to others, your attention leaving their forms and drifting to your side where Wanda’s uneasy figure was, guilt washing through you as she didn’t like the experience.

After another loop around the ride, a significant amount of ‘oh gods’ later, you made it to the end of the rollercoaster, Wanda’s heart pounding against her ribcage as she used your hand to climb out of the shuttle she’d forever hate, her body collapsing into yours as your arms wrap around her middle, comforting her as best you could, her hands trembling as they gradually snake around you to make your warm and safe body remain close.

The twins looked in confusion at how sad Wanda looked in your arms, your eyes looking for something to distract them with as you consoled their mother, your hand slipping into your pocket to grab your card and giving it to them, pointing towards the photo area and store where the ride snapped pictures of you all on the Bifrost. They hurriedly took the card, the more mischievous twin planning on sneaking something else onto the bill whilst out of sight, your mind not bothered how much they spent as Wanda’s quiet voice reached your ears.

“You promised it wasn’t going to be scary,” she mutters against your shoulder before pulling back, looking into your eyes with a betrayed expression, your face softening as you cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you coo, “I didn’t think you’d find it that scary,” your tone apologetic as you kiss her forehead, hoping to make her feel that little bit better by giving her the affection she always craved.

“Well it was,” she muttered, the small hint of attitude amusing to you despite the situation, your smile slowly crumbling away the wall of annoyance the older woman felt, the comforting words you whispered as you complimented her causing her mood to dissipate away, inevitably forgiving you like she always did.

Her arm remained securely wrapped around your middle as you waited for the twins to return, both of your expressions morphing into shock at the sight of them, a sigh leaving yours as you looked to the sky, praying that they hadn’t just bankrupt you whilst Wanda tried to muffle her laughter.

Tommy and Billy had to work together to carry the giant dragon stuffed toy towards you two, their smiles almost bigger than the vibrant plush they had bought, a bag on both of their arms with other items they had raided from the merchandise store, along with the photos from the ride, a low, amused chuckle leaving the older woman’s lips as they hobbled over to you, struggling to carry everything.

“That’s karma,” she laughed out to you, smiling brightly at the twins as they finally reached you, their faces barely able to contain the sheer joy bubbling inside them as they handed you the enormous red plush to show their mother what else they had gotten, your eyes squinting at the price tag before deciding not to look anymore when the figure exceeded one hundred pounds, another deep sigh escaping you.

Tommy sheepishly handed you back your card, giving you a peace offering of a large refillable cup that had the Asgard brand printed all along the side and the photos, your head shaking at his antics, deciding not to tell them off as the photo of you and Wanda on the ride was worth all the money they had spent, however much that was. The overwhelming amount of happiness that glistened in her eyes at your payback was also worth every penny, the smile unable to be wiped off your face even when you had to lug around the toy with you for the rest of the day, following the three of them to around the theme park until the sky blue sky slowly darkened into a deep blue, stars painting the night sky as you savoured every last minute of your time together in the magical place of Asgard.

---

This chapter murdered me harder than how 838 Wanda murdered Richard Reeds. 

Exciting news! I'm trying to start an etsy shop selling art and my plan is to make some 'The Babysitter' art as well as other marvel prints <3 Would anyone be interested in this or am I wasting my time? 😅

I hope you enjoyed this chapter full of fluff! 

Please leave any thoughts/comments/kudos <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Tumblr-  LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger3000

[odinsblog]

Can we please get something straight here??

Mitch McConnell has supported Donald Trump and will support him again if Trump wins the Republican nomination. I have never supported Trump and I never will.

Mitch McConnell has been a willing tool of the NRA and helped pass countless stand-your-ground laws, he has helped pave the way for laws like permitless carry, and he has helped make guns easier for anyone to get. I have not.

Mitch McConnell has helped pass laws that intentionally suppress the votes of millions and millions Black people. I have not.

Mitch McConnell has helped write or pass laws that deny millions of women access to reproductive health care. I have not.

Mitch McConnell has helped write or pass laws that deny basic healthcare and living wages to millions of poor people. I have not.

I AM NOW AND I WILL ALWAYS BE BETTER than Mitch McConnell and Republicans, because my wishes do not have any material impact on anyone, unlike the myriad of hateful draconian laws that Mitch McConnell has helped to pass.

I could continue, but hopefully I’ve made my point: people sending Mitch McConnell “ill wishes” IS NOT being “just the same” as Mitch McConnell and Republicans, and it doesn’t make anyone “as bad as” McConnell and the GOP.

Are you fucking kidding me??

Saying that my wishes = McConnell’s actions is a false equivalence. It’s false, it’s offensive and it’s gaslighting.

Mitch McConnell is an elected politician who has a very long history of using his political power to actively harm the poor, marginalized communities, women, LGBTQ people, and non-Christian, non-white people. If you cannot differentiate between the words and the unenforceable “wishes” of the oppressed vs. the actions of an oppressor, then you have some serious problems to unpack.

I could ~almost~ see it if there was some chance that a Republican would go, “Oh wow, those progressives are being nice to Mitch McConnell, maybe I’ll stop being a racist and vote for a Democrat now.” But that almost never ever happens, does it??

You are not going to win over a Republican by being kind. Their entire ideology is based on racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and cruelty.

Look, I’m not tryna write a dissertation here, but please believe me when I say that this neoliberal knee jerk Pollyanna reaction of, “turn the other cheek” and “be kinder to your oppressors” is very much rooted in Christofascism + white supremacy. It’s a weaponization of the “hate breeds hate” trope and the “forgiveness narrative” meant to tame slaves, and I refuse to fall for it.

I absolutely positively do not wish Mitch McConnell well, and HELL NO, I am not being a bad person for hoping that a racist, evil, old white man suffers a fraction of the pain he has inflicted on others for decades and decades.

I am a proud member of the #MitchMcConnellDieChallenge community.

That all said, at the very least, Mitch McConnell has unintentionally provided us with a teachable moment: please learn to spot the warning signs of someone having a stroke

[celerydays]

Hi! I have been following you for some time and I notice you draw more and more Sebastian and Ominis doing stuff that makes me... uncomfortable.....

Sebastian and Ominis are best friends, why people are obsessed with drawing them into weird gay stuff? Seriously.... Why can't be friends.... without all Sebinis... Just stop it...

Normally I would delete messages or simply ignore the things that make me feel uncomfortable–

But, you're on anon and this is my ask inbox, so I can only assume you want an actual, public response. So alright. Fine.

Like I said: normally I would just remove odd, uncomfortable, or even outright rude messages without making a whole thing of it. I curate my own online experience and I try my best to live by that rule.

However, I've now gotten multiple unsolicited DMs over the course of a couple of months expressing the exact same sentiment (and nearly word-for-word as this ask, so I highly suspect I already know who you are). I have duly ignored or glossed over them hoping that the person/people would take the hint to simply stop engaging with the same message over and over again. But an anon ask is my last straw, I guess.

So if you are the same person as in my DMs, I'm finally giving you a response (and if you're not the same person – which I highly doubt – then I'm speaking to both of you).

Firstly, I want to say that I am sorry that your worldview is so limited that this is your stance and feelings on gay/queer ship content for Sebastian and Ominis.

Next, I ask that you please:

Don't make your homophobia anyone else's issue but your own. Don't come into DMs/ask inboxes/comments to make your discomfort with the content I create my problem. I don't know what you hoped to accomplish by sending this message but it's unlikely that you'll find the same feelings or sympathy from the person who is actively creating queer/sebinis content.

Curate your own online experience. Once again, do not make your content consumption anyone else's problem but your own. The "unfollow" button is there. Tumblr has a tag filtering system and I try to tag my art and content as accurately as possible. If you do not like something/it makes you uncomfortable, then do not continue to consume it. And if you still decide to stick around for whatever reason, then please keep your thoughts/opinions on this matter to yourself because I can promise that I don't actually care why you would continue to be here and looking at my art if it makes you unhappy.

Widen your worldview and try to reframe your perspective. Consider that Sebastian x Ominis is just as canon as Sebastian x f!MC or Ominis x f!MC. As much as we like to ship our various MCs with the canon characters, MC never actually amounts to canonically being confirmed as anything but being just friends with everyone. Using the "they are just best friends" / "why can't they just be portrayed only as friends" could literally be applied to just about any other non-canon/non-confirmed ship between friends regardless of gender. If even one of them, Ominis or Sebastian, was portrayed as cis female in canon, I would suspect that you would better "understand" why a ship between these two "friends" may exist. Then also consider a cis male MC; it's possible you may suddenly reframe all the interactions between Ominis x m!MC or Sebastian x m!MC in your head to be "totally platonic/friendly". Your issue is certainly not with their canon relationship vs. fandom portrayal (but I think we both know that).

Educate yourself. Go outside and meet and talk to people, I dunno. It is 2024 my dude. I don't even know how you're on Tumblr – the most queer-friendly social media site – with those kind of narrowed views and stigma.

I would like to finish by saying: I don't wish you the best. What I do wish is for you to learn, grow, and be better than this.

And also please stop sending me messages of this nature, because the next ask or DM I get like this, we're moving on to blocking at this point. And if your purpose was to get me to stop, I can tell you that these messages have only fueled the explicit sebinis smut maker in me. 😤

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Bingyuan Oneshot

dreaming you the same sun in a different place

JRaylin441

Summary:

[Activating: Bonus Chapter – In Another Life]

[We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to reunite with User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu?]

Shen Qingqiu disappears. Luo Binghe isn't going to let that stand.

Written for a Gotcha for Gaza prompt "Luo Binghe sucking Shen Yuan's dick (any dynamic)" from an anonymous prompter

Content Warnings: Subspace, amnesia, comphet, internalized homophobia, little bit of gray areas for consent (due to the last three things mentioned, as well as the system explicitly wanting them to have sex this way, more details in the final notes), manipulation (typical bingmei levels), undernegotiated kink, homelessness (not discussed in detail), dietary limitations, vague allusions to chronic pain, typical negative self-talk for binghe. As always, I have done my best to think of everything I should warn for but, if you think of something else, please let me know and I'll be quick to add it!

Read it on AO3 here (x)

Shizun disappears from the bamboo cottage in the middle of Luo Binghe's inner palace in the demon realm. More than that, he disappears from within Luo Binghe's arms, as they sleep curled around each other.

Luo Binghe had sworn that no harm would come to Shizun, now that they were married. The world had shown again and again that this was a promise that would be difficult for Luo Binghe to keep. For it to happen, at the very heart of his home, is a failure Luo Binghe cannot bear to look at for too long. He worked for so many years, to finally have the kind of power that would make it impossible to take the people he loves from him, and yet even this is not enough.

No cultivator or demon should have been able to access that room without Luo Binghe's knowledge. There is no trace of energy or invasive presence. Shizun was there, and then he was not, and Luo Binghe does not wake up until one of his arms falls through the space left behind, to hit the sheets below.

He rises from his bed in a fury and tears the palace apart in his search for Shizun. When that does not yield any result, he scours the cultivation sects, the Northern Palace, the hiding places of any demonic clans that may have hinted at some level of dissatisfaction with his rule.

When two days of searching still turn up nothing, Luo Binghe returns to his palace and calls together the court. What use is all the power he has amassed if he cannot wield it in a time like this? He paces and snarls and threatens each member of the court until they understand exactly how tortuously they will perish should his shizun not be found within the day.

And then, when he stops by his room (not to sleep - the combination of demonic energy and qi can be used to keep moving for days longer before he would need to sleep) to remove the trappings of court for more effective travel wear, a ghostly glowing blue box appears before his eyes.

[Activating: Bonus Chapter – In Another Life]

[Welcome to the System. We hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincerest wish that, during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your heart’s wish, learn more about your love interest. We hope you enjoy.]

[We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life?]

Luo Binghe reacts without thought, Xin Mo slicing through the glowing shape in a shatter of small colored boxes that immediately reform behind it. Insubstantial, then. Luo Binghe has fought enemies like this before, easily able to reform from a slashing hit. He jabs Xin Mo into the center of it, channeling his demonic qi though it until the blade is red hot and boiling the air around it. The box shimmers but stays present.

A heart demon. A qi deviation. A dreamscape.

He takes out each technique he has developed over the past decade of relentless attacks, and unleashes the full force of his martial prowess on this floating box, and still it remains. Unaffected and bright. Almost smug in the way that it follows his line of sight.

Luo Binghe does not have time for something like this. He needs to find Shizun. The box has not changed or made any move to attack. Luo Binghe checks the flow of his qi, both spiritual and demonic, but there is no tangible blip or drain.

Fine. If a floating box wants to follow him around, it can do that. He can see through it enough to continue on his way and Luo Binghe has larger concerns than this.

He moves the concern of the blue glowing box to the back of his mind and carries on with his earlier mission. Changing into more appropriate clothing for long travel and battle. He mounts Xin Mo right there in the center of his quarters and flies out through the large open pavilion at the back of his inner palace.

It is another several hours of relentless searching, in concentric loops out from his starting place. He reaches for his Heavenly Demon blood, which has never cut him off from Shizun since the moment he first made him consume it, but it remains just as silent as it has since he woke up with his arms empty.

It is getting hard to breathe, the way that bands of steel tension seem to be tightening around his ribs, pulling in close to his lungs and making each exhale rasp on its way out.

This happens sometimes. Used to happen all the time, back when he first joined the Cang Qiong sect, and then again when he was deep in the Endless Abyss. He can push through it, control his own blood to push his lungs to their full capacity, breathe deep and let it out. It is a simple matter of mental weakness, feeling overwhelmed by all the danger that seems to dog his steps. It is unhelpful and it changes nothing.

Luo Binghe forces his lungs open, breathes as best as he can, refocuses on his frantic reaching for any response from the blood he knows courses through his husband's veins.

He hasn't needed the reassurance of it since all the business with Maigu Ridge. Shizun has barely left his side since that moment, even more so once they shared a drink and took their bows together.

Luo Binghe knows that he fed his blood to Shizun in a moment of frantic weakness. He knows that it upset Shizun. That happened back in those horrible weeks of miscommunication and hurt feelings. He had just wanted to make it so that he could heal Shizun. He had just wanted to make it so that he would always know where Shizun was. He had just wanted to make it so that he could never be thrown away again.

It was a violation of his privacy and crossed so many of those boundaries that Shizun insists are so important. More than that, it scared him. That is the part that Luo Binghe can't abide by, in his memory. He hadn't meant to scare Shizun and he wishes it had happened differently.

Still, the blood parasites had been a blessing, while Shizun was trapped in the Water Prison and he had been able to check his position while using every scrap of self-control not to crawl on hands and knees to his side and lay his head on his lap, like he might have been able to as a young disciple.

They had been a blessing, while Shizun was dead for those long, empty years and Luo Binghe had laid beside him every night, dedicated himself to memorizing every cun of his body and repairing it. Doing everything he could to remind himself that the body was still here. The blood was still able to flow. There was still hope of bringing his soul back.

They had been a blessing, while he had been undertaking the terrifying and exhilarating honor of learning how to please Shizun as a husband does. The blood parasites had allowed him to guide relaxation, increase pleasure, maintain stamina, long past when a normal human cultivator might have needed to finish. They also allowed him to prevent any long-term pain or consequences, when Luo Binghe was still trying to learn how to channel the desperate hunger that craved under his skin into something loving and good.

He can feel the old, desperate thing at the core of him shaking off its slumber, soothed by the last year of stability but never gone. Shi-zun. Shi-zun. Shi-zun. It beats inside of him, along with his pulse.

He is flying through the air and watching for Shizun and pullingpullingpulling on the blood parasites but nothing is happening.

And then, the blue screen shifts a little, brightens a bit, moves itself back to the center of his vision.

[Activating: Bonus Chapter – In Another Life]

[We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to reunite with User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu?]

Those words, reunite with Shen Qingqiu. It may be a cursed monster, offering a deal, but he has faith that he can defeat any enemy placed before him. He agrees with just a thought, before he has time to consider it for a second further.

One moment, Luo Binghe is flying over the forest on Xin Mo. The next instant, he is standing on a strangely level path next to the scream of metal carriages as they whirl past. The momentum of his flight suddenly interrupted makes him stumble for just a moment.

[The System was successfully activated! Starting C-Points: 100. Please ensure C-Points do not fall below zero, or the System will automatically mete out punishment.]

[You may earn C-Points through completing quests. Current quest: Locate Shen Yuan. Good luck!]

*~*~*

The city Luo Binghe has found himself in is much like any other city. There are pedestrians moving quickly down walkways, large buildings here in the center that grow smaller as you move toward the outskirts. A large city, to be sure, since the towering buildings stretch so far up and out in every direction.

Yes, there are strange carriages that seem to be loudly hurtling past on the road, making it impossible to cross safely on foot. Yes, there are strange magical light fixtures with no visible flame that allow Luo Binghe to see the strange, scandalous fashion the people of this place wear. Yes, he has no idea where he might go to find a map or gather his bearings.

But, Luo Binghe was thrown into the Endless Abyss while still a teenager and emerged stronger than before. Luo Binghe conquered the demon realms and easily could have done the same to the human realms, had he not found something he liked more. Luo Binghe had the best teacher to have ever lived.

All this to say: Luo Binghe may not be familiar with this particular world, but he has been taught for much of his life all the ways to quickly adapt and comport himself with dignity, no matter the situation. This world seems to have its own unique kind of magic, but it is populated with humans, and they can be counted on to respond to certain things in consistent ways.

Luo Binghe spends the next several hours as a man on a mission. He hides away his more demonic features immediately. He finds his way to a building that seems to provide clothing similar to that of the others walking on the street, and Luo Binghe copies what an individual in a painting on the wall seems to be depicting as appropriate fashion. With the speed his cultivation and demonic heritage grant him, it is not difficult to be a thief.

The people who live here speak with an identical dialect to the one that Luo Binghe grew up speaking, even if their word choice seems bizarrely informal and contains strange slang. The first two people he attempts to approach seem to be overwhelmed by his aggressive posture and intense focus, and so Luo Binghe watches those who walk past him, catalogues their interactions, tries again. This time, he is more able to mimic the humble, meek way to approach a stranger on the street, and he is able to pretend to be someone visiting from another town who is in need of guidance. The stranger points him in the direction of something called a Visitors Center, and Luo Binghe has his next goal.

It would be humiliating, lowering himself to this kind of begging, after all that he has done to earn respect. It would be, if it weren't for the fact that he would do things a hundred times more degrading for even the chance to see Shizun smile.

And, right now, his goal is so much more than just his husband's smile.

*~*~*

The woman in charge of what the locals call the Visitors Center appears to think Luo Binghe is some kind of incompetent stranger in need of coddling and gentle guidance like a child. Her soft touches and slow speech grate on him, but he grits his teeth and pushes through it. He does not know what he is doing in this world, nor how to begin to locate his husband within it. The blood parasites still are not working, and so he will need to learn the methods by which a normal human locates another in a city like this.

He needs her help. This is the kind of help she is offering, and he will take what is on the table if it brings him even a step closer to where his husband is. The mysterious System seems confident that Shizun is hidden within this strange world, and that's the only lead he has so far. It says that the next step is to locate someone called Shen Yuan.

So. He will sit at the chair she has pulled over for him. He will fill out the paperwork with her delicate hand resting on his shoulder. He will grin and bear the way that she keeps talking so loudly and so slowly and so directly in his ear, as if he isn't the emperor of an entire demon realm. The man who could have united the two realms. Could have ruled over both. Could have destroyed the world.

She provides him with a map of the area, circles a few locations that she says could be helpful when looking for more resources. She offers him something to drink which turns out to be water with a strange chemical taste, from some kind of sealed, flimsy, transparent container. She asks him if he has any relatives that she can put him in touch with.

And, finally, there's a question that might actually help them get somewhere.

"My husband," he says, "Shen Qingqiu." She starts at that, and then shakes her head as if brushing off an errant thought.

"You have the wrong word," she emphasizes, each word taking her three times as long to say as it should. "Do you mean your wife's brother?" Luo Binghe does not know what he has done to convince this woman that he does not know this language or that he is some kind of idiot. He would let it stand, but he cannot let someone brush off his Shizun like that.

"No, my husband." He wants to slow his speech down too, mock her to her face, rip out her throat for daring to make this take a moment longer than it needs to.

"Okay," she says, but with the tone of someone who is choosing to let someone think they are right when they know for certain that they are wrong. This is already longer than Luo Binghe wanted to spend without being reunited with his reason for existence. He was trying to do this the normal way, the conventional way, because sometimes that is the fastest way to get what you want.

The woman behind the counter works much faster with the long and vicious edge of a blade held to her throat.

"You will tell me where I can find Shen Qingqiu," and Luo Binghe's voice is the sleek, friendly threat that identifies him at his most dangerous. She does not use that condescending, bright tone anymore. In fact, she does not speak at all, making her way over to the glowing contraption and shaking beneath his grasp. Good. She understands the gravity of the situation and just how quickly Luo Binghe would kill her to get what he wants.

She explains that there are multiple people in this city with that name. Luo Binghe makes his displeasure clear enough that she provides papers with neat, staggeringly regular characters on them with a list of locations for each one.

He could leave it at that. But, well, Luo Binghe has always been paranoid and overcautious. His perfect husband always talks of Luo Binghe's intelligence. When he doesn't think Luo Binghe can hear him from the other room, Shizun will talk to himself about Luo Binghe being the best person in the world at solving puzzles and interpreting information. He likes to talk about something called an "eye queue" at the same time as all of that.

The truth is that Luo Binghe has always felt somewhat smart, but more than that is his burning and unrelenting desire to follow a single goal. He has always found himself uniquely able to push past any barrier or discomfort in order to get what he wants. So, if what he wants happens to be his husband's love and safety, he could see how that might look to Shizun as if he is particularly smart in all areas of life.

All this to say: Luo Binghe is bending every single ounce of his focus and will and eye queue to this task.

The strange glowing blue box is a menace and he will never forgive it for being seemingly involved in whatever took Shizun away from him. It is also the only thing that seems to have an idea of what is going on. And, twice now, it has mentioned the name Shen Yuan.

He doesn't have all of the pieces to this puzzle yet, but Shen Yuan seems to be someone important, and he has no desire to come back here.

She provides another several sheets of paper. This seems to be an even more common name in this large city. No matter. He will do whatever needs done.

He does not thank the woman. Rather, he deigns to leave her alive on his way out the door to find his Shizun.

*~*~*

He has been to visit a total of twenty-four places of residence, so far. It took a while to figure out how this strange world organizes itself and denotes location. He had stopped someone else on the street, showed them the nonsense written on a page under the first option for Shen Qingqiu. They had pointed him in the right direction, drawing a simplistic map on a small piece of parchment that they were carrying with them.

Luo Binghe is a single-minded arrow. He had focused all of his logical abilities on understanding how the strange combination of words and numbers could have led him to the location he found himself at. It still took one more helpful stranger before he felt truly confident trying it for himself. Beyond a few complications, such as the first time he came across the secondary numbers that come when there are many small residences stacked together like an inn, Luo Binghe has managed to figure out this process quickly.

The first residence he found was occupied, and an elderly man responded to his knocking and call of the name Shen Qingqiu. He did not, however, answer to the title Shizun, nor did he bear any resemblance to Luo Binghe's missing husband. He had turned around and moved on to the next location almost as soon as he had made contact.

Luo Binghe moved through the rest of the list in a similar manner. Some of the Shen Qingqius were not in their home. He would lurk outside for a day or so, waiting to see them come back. Sometimes that worked. Other times, he would move on to the next and come back a few days later to see if anything had changed. On the two occasions where the home had still been empty, Luo Binghe had simply broken into the residence.

Many individuals in this world seemed to be quite fond of keeping incredibly realistic images of themselves and other important people as decorations around their homes, and he was able to quickly confirm that these homes, too, likely did not contain his missing Shizun.

Luo Binghe knows how to live in a world that does not know how to accommodate him. He knows how to carry on for days on end in a search for his Shizun. He knows how to feed himself when he has no currency. When he reaches the end of the list of Shen Qingqius without finding his husband, he turns his attention to the next lead.

Luo Binghe moves to consider the input of this cursed glowing blue box. When he reaches out with his mind and requests an update, similar to how he once communicated with Meng Mo, the System responds.

[Mission issued: In Another Life]

[Current quest: Locate Shen Yuan. Current C-Points: 100.]

[The System is here to provide fast and consistent service. We wish you a swift success.]

And that was the only lead left, so Luo Binghe had started his way down the other list, the one containing all the strangers named Shen Yuan.

It's a very similar experience, going through this list. The same arduous process of crossing off every individual, except this time Luo Binghe has to check with the System rather than his own perception, as he has no idea what it is the System is trying to have him locate in the first place. He assumes that it will alert him, whenever it happens.

In the end, it doesn't actually need to. The blue boxes are infuriating and distracting, and so Luo Binghe has ordered the System to keep them out of his sight unless he specifically requests an update.

When he arrives at this newest residence, there is nothing immediately remarkable. He has learned, at this point, that this is one of the cleaner, more difficult to access, and larger spaces he has been to, which he assumes means that the person living here is wealthier than some of the other Shen Yuans or Shen Qingqius.

Luo Binghe knocks on the door. For a long moment, there is no answer, and he is mentally preparing for his usual approach, scoping out the hallway for the best locations to begin a stakeout without being identified as a suspicious person. Some of these doors have the small, circular magical talismans outside them, which he has learned can be used to view this location from any distance away. Sometimes they even allow for an individual to recall and view this information long after something has occurred. They are fascinating technology that he would like to bring back with him, if possible. They also make his task significantly harder.

The door opens, and a young man is standing on the other side. He has short hair, in the manner that Luo Binghe has learned is typical in this world. He is wearing pants made of soft-looking, drooping fabric that pools on the floor around his feet and seems to have frayed where he steps on it, as he is currently. He has worn house sandals on his feet. His shirt is larger than seems to be the typical style, and a large, bright drawing of a woman with white clothing and long blue hair in two separate tails is splashed across the chest. There are large glass spectacles on his face, something that wasn't unheard of in Luo Binghe's world but seems significantly more common in this strange place.

He is...slight. With wide brown eyes and soft limbs. Most importantly, he is not Luo Binghe's Shizun, so he couldn't care much either way.

"I didn't think I ordered anything," the man says, and he smiles at Luo Binghe like he is trying to invite him in on a shared joke. "But it's pretty easy to lose track these days."

He is holding out his hands, with an expectant look on his face. As if he is waiting for Luo Binghe to put something in them. This is not the first time one of the people he has visited has assumed that he is there to give them something. It must be normal in this world.

Luo Binghe should just turn and walk away, as he has with every house before this. There is something, though, about this particular Shen Yuan, that is making that difficult. Something in the elegant tilt of his wrist as he holds his hands out. Something in the soft way he met Luo Binghe's eyes before making his soft-spoken and self-depreciating joke.

"Shizun?" Luo Binghe asks, because he does not care for even a moment about embarrassing himself when Shizun is on the line. The young man, Shen Yuan, jerks his head back a little bit in surprise. He laughs awkwardly and lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Um, no. Do you need help with something? Why are you here?"

He said no, but the uncanny resemblance in movements is becoming more and more overwhelming the longer he speaks. There is something in the way he shifted his head when surprised and scrambling for his bearings. Something about the way that he curled his tongue around his words when he spoke them. It shakes in Luo Binghe's bones, the familiarity of it all.

"Shen Qingqiu." And he demands it this time, stepping assertively toward this Shen Yuan, because something strange is happening here and it has to do with Shizun and he needs to understand it as soon as possible. The young, slight man seems to skitter back a step without even thinking about it.

"Um?" And his voice has gone high and questioning, and it's Shizun. It's him. Luo Binghe knows him. "What the fuck is happening? Are you talking about Proud Immortal Demon Way right now?" Crude language but more and more the certainty is beating along inside Luo Binghe's chest.

He pulls up the System to check, and it bursts into being before his eyes with a small shower of what seems to be colorful paper, that only Luo Binghe is able to perceive.

[Congratulations! System notification: Shen Yuan has been located. Current quest completed, C-Points +50. Current C-Points: 150.]

[Initiating next quest: Even in This World? User Luo Binghe may earn C-Points by increasing positive feelings between himself and Shen Yuan.]

[Good luck!]

He wants to grab it out of the air and crush it between his fists, but he's already tried that and knows it doesn't work. What matters now is that the System told him that this mission would reunite him with Shizun, and now it is telling him he has made progress toward that goal. The man before him has so many of Shizun's mannerisms that it is impossible not to know him.

Luo Binghe does not understand what is going on, but he knows that he cannot leave this place yet.

If this is his Shizun, then he does not seem to recognize his husband. Some kind of memory loss, perhaps. Or maybe some kind of possession.

If this is his Shizun, then Luo Binghe knows him well enough to know that he looks uncomfortable. This is the kind of smile he puts on when he wants Shang-shidi or the sect leader to leave already, and they are not picking up on his blaring hints. Usually, this is the point when his doting husband would step up and happily enforce Shizun's desires.

He can't be sent away. Not yet. He needs a reason to continue this conversation.

He knows his husband.

"Can you help me, please?" Luo Binghe changes his posture, his voice, everything. He softens his stance, looks down, glances back up with eyes limned in tears. His hair is long and slightly unkempt after days of living with other priorities. He looks a little bit like a mess already and, with these changes, he now looks pathetic and worthy of pity as well. It is the sort of thing his husband could never resist, with that tendency to take any undeserving menace under his wing in a blink.

And, sure enough, there it is. The subtle shift in posture, in the crinkling of his eyes, and Shen Yuan is leaning out of the doorway, eager to be helpful. Luo Binghe's heart is going to leap out of his chest and land at his feet. He is going to fall to the ground and cry genuine tears and hold on to his Shizun's ankles until he can never leave him again.

Instead, he fumbles into the pockets that exist on these strange clothes. They are in the pants rather than the sleeves, and are small and somewhat difficult to access, with the way that the thick fabric clings so tightly to the body.

Even so, there are papers in his pocket, containing a list of names and addresses. Some of them he has ripped to shreds with his teeth in frustration. Some he has left behind him on the street. This one, though, remains. It contains only one set of information, for some Shen Qingqiu who is not his Shizun. Luo Binghe removes it from the rest of the papers and holds it gently toward this strange version of his Shizun, making sure that his hand is trembling just a bit with the movement.

"I have never lived in a city this big. I came from far away and have always lived in a small town. I can't seem to find my way to anywhere I need to be." This Shen Yuan is leaning forward even more, opening the door wider to make up for the way that it tilted closed when he pulled away earlier. "Please, I need help finding my mother's friend. She said I could find him here."

Shen Yuan gestures Luo Binghe a little closer, and he easily goes. He doesn't smell like Shizun. He smells like a human who has been sitting in the same room for a long time and has been wearing the same clothes for much of that. Beneath that, his demonic senses are able to detect the more unique, individual scent that every person carries, but even that is nothing like his Shizun. He reaches out with his demonic blood, but again, there is no response from any blood parasites.

"Oh!" Shen Yuan exclaims, looking closer at the paper. "His name is Shen Qingqiu. That's funny. I never really thought of that as a name a normal person might have."

Luo Binghe isn't sure what he could possibly mean by that. He knows for a fact that there are multiple "normal" people with that exact name throughout this city, so he cannot see what the surprise might be. He cocks his head to the side a little bit, because it makes him look young and cute and because his Shizun always tracks the moment with his eyes when he does it. Sometimes he gets headpats out of it too.

This Shen Yuan tracks the moment too, eyes lingering for a second on Luo Binghe's neck, the fall of his curly hair. Luo Binghe watches him take a single, rough swallow (and it's Shizun, this is what Shizun does when he wants Luo Binghe) and then he flushes bright red (something his Shizun would never do and what does that mean) and returns to looking at the paper.

"This is all the way on the other side of the city. How did you end up over here?" He tsks his tongue lightly under his breath and turns in a little circle, seeming to try to get his bearings. The sound cuts through Luo Binghe. There are tears that want to gather in his eyes, because he could swear that this is his Shizun except for the cold way he doesn't seem to recognize his husband. Except for all the little mannerisms that are different. Except for the body that looks nothing like him.

It does, somewhat, now that Shen Yuan is studying the paper and Luo Binghe has more time to study him, look a little bit like the mushroom body that his Shizun inhabited for several weeks. He would never forget any form that his Shizun has taken, and there is something here in the shape of the nose, the color and texture of the hair.

And what does that mean? Is that a clue or a coincidence? There are no answers, and the System has provided no additional information, and Luo Binghe can feel his breath wanting to go unsteady and ragged the way it does when he lets his weakness overwhelm him. He ignores it, uses his blood to force his lungs into a steady pattern. He can't afford to draw attention from this Shen Yuan or show any genuine vulnerability until he is better able to understand what is happening.

"Here. I can draw you a map. Let me just..." Shen Yuan trails off, pats at the pockets of his comfortable, baggy pants, and then starts back toward the inside of his residence. "You can come in. I'll need to get a pen and paper."

And then he leaves to walk further into the house. If this is his husband and his memories have somehow been removed, then Luo Binghe is going to have to have a conversation with him later. Because this is not a safe decision at all. A strange man arrives on your doorstep, larger and stronger than you on every dimension, and you turn around and invite him inside! Luo Binghe could be a robber! This is why he needs to be at Shizun's side at all times. His wonderful husband is far too prone to assuming the best of others.

Luo Binghe follows anyway, because he certainly doesn't mean his husband any harm, and also because he is helpless to do anything but that now that he has finally managed to find his Shizun. Probably.

That quest from the System is still glowing in the corner of his vision, as if Luo Binghe needs any motivation from the System to increase positive feelings here. If this is his husband, and his husband does not remember him, then Luo Binghe has exactly two priorities.

1) Make his husband fall in love with him again and

2) Get his memories back from whoever dared to take the memories of the emperor's consort

The residence is larger than many of the ones that Luo Binghe has broken into in the past few days. There are huge, open windows along entire walls, and he is able to see further across the city than he has from any of his other locations. Able to see just how much space he has covered and been lost in so far.

Shen Yuan is bustling around over in a room that Luo Binghe has learned serves as a kitchen, from a time when he was watching the wife of one of the other Shen Qingqius through the window and waited for him to arrive.

And there.

Hmmm.

There, in the kitchen, are several small little decorations. At first, they do not draw Luo Binghe's eye at all. It feels quite normal to have a sword on display in a home, until he looks closer and sees the shoddy craftsmanship of the sword, the poor quality of the tassels hanging from the end. This is not the sort of weapon that would hold up in a fight and is, therefore, not the sort of weapon one usually sees on display. That, in addition to the fact that he has not seen any other homes with weapons on display like this, and Luo Binghe is starting to feel confused.

He looks around the room, through the doors he can see into from his position at the table. Shen Yuan is puttering around the kitchen with the same harried relaxation that his Shizun has always demonstrated when he's happy to be taking care of another person and is resisting the urge to dote. He's not sure what he would do if Shen Yuan tried to dote on him right now. There is clearly some connection between him and his Shizun, but this is all still very confusing.

And then, Luo Binghe catches sight of something strange through one of the doors that seems to lead into one of the sleeping chambers here. There, mounted on the wall and visible even from the kitchen, seems to be Xin Mo. But, Xin Mo if someone had seen it several times and then attempted to describe it to someone else. And then that person had tried to make it after only a brief apprenticeship in bladesmithing. The balance is clearly all wrong and the decorative metalwork ornamentation on the sheath is laid terribly, so that it would clearly get in the way of movement in battle and catch on robes.

But it is meant to be Xin Mo. The coloring is right. The blade is pitch black where it sticks out of the sheath. Most damningly, Luo Binghe's demonic huadian is traced into the metalwork near the pommel. Which would never be the case. It's tacky, first of all. It's unnecessary, since Xin Mo is always at his side. On top of all that, Xin Mo was not created for him or his bloodline. It's a blade that he discovered buried deep in the Abyss for centuries and forcibly tamed to his will.

Still. It can be no other blade than the scourge of the demonic realms.

Is this a sign, from that terrible System? What would it be doing here in this world? Does Shen Yuan know that it is there?

"That is a strange blade you have," Luo Binghe tentatively posits. He can pass it off as his speaking of the blade on display in the kitchen, if Shen Yuan cannot see this fake Xin Mo for any reason. Instead, he walks over with eager steps, when he sees the direction Luo Binghe is looking. He's got a light in his eyes, the way Shizun always does, if you're watching closely for it, that means you have stumbled upon a topic that he would love to discuss for the foreseeable future.

There are differences too. Primarily, there is a large and excited smile spread across Shen Yuan's face, in a manner that his Shizun would never allow, not even after a year of marriage, without the safety of a fan to hide behind.

The differences are itching under Luo Binghe's skin.

And then, well, there is something significantly more distracting happening.

"Oh!" Shen Yuan is eager. "That's called Xin Mo." How strange, to hear him say the blade's name without the tinge of bitterness and dislike that usually flavors it. Shen Yuan is excited to bursting and is holding himself back from saying more. This is something Luo Binghe is familiar with navigating.

"It's a lovely blade. This one wonders how someone such as Shen Yuan came across something like this."

The moment he's accustomed to, even if there are more expressions on display than ever before. The hesitant side-glance and smile. Luo Binghe leans forward on the table, rests his chin on his hands, clearly gives Shen Yuan his full attention. The brightening of his expression. The unlocking of the flood.

"It was certainly hard to come by, you're right about that! The etsy store that sells those only makes a few a year and they sell out faster than you would believe. I had to keep notifications up for that store for months before I was able to act fast enough."

"What is the significance of this blade, that Shen Yuan dedicated so much effort to acquiring it?"

The twitch of a hand that would generally precede his reaching for a fan. In this strange alter world, Shen Yuan turns his face away and speaks while facing the sword itself.

"Ah, it's from a novel that I read. The main character has a sword like that, and I thought it was pretty cool." The side-glance again, waiting for a sign as to whether this was okay to talk about. Luo Binghe is very good at lying. He keeps his face amiable and interested enough to keep Shen Yuan talking. It is effortless, almost, to take all the turmoil brought about by that statement and hide it behind a smile and soft eyes.

And Shen Yuan is happy to take the encouragement. He lights up, waving his hands through the air, as he starts to describe a book that he claims is poorly written and fails to live up to any of its potential. He discusses his deep interest in what he refers to as "worldbuilding" and the "monster lore." And then, as he continues on, he starts to describe his favorite character. 

Luo Binghe

It's strange, to hear him say that name, specifically. Shen Yuan speaks with the same nuance, the same quirks, as his beloved Shizun. When he comes to this name, though, something is terribly off. There is excitement and interest, sure. Shen Yuan clearly seems to like this character in this book that he is reading. That much is obvious.

But, well, it's still different. When Shizun says his name. When he calls him so sweetly, Binghe, husband, there is so much more in his voice. In that one word, Luo Binghe can hear the fondness that has grown over a decade of shared joys and struggles. He can hear the tentative love and attraction that he agonized to hear for so long.

The way Shen Yuan says it now, by comparison, is so very strange. Affectionate and passionate but distant. A concept rather than a person.

Luo Binghe maintains his mask. He will not let on to anything going through his mind until he is able to gain a better understanding of the situation he has found himself in. By continuing to show interest, he is led further into the residence, into the sleeping quarters.

There are paintings. There are small statues and larger statues. There are pillows. A thousand items, all covered in what is clearly intended to be a representation of Luo Binghe. There are minor inconsistencies, sure, but it is the same as the Xin Mo replica, where the inconsistencies make it even more obvious who this is intended to be.

It's not just Luo Binghe, though. It is Luo Binghe at his worst. At his most monstrous, his most demonic, his most blood-spattered. The version that he tries his hardest not to be again. The version he tries to hide from his Shizun and himself. Something that is not worthy of the love of a peak lord of Cang Qiong sect.

The whole room is set up as something like a shrine to Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan guides him eagerly through each item, discussing just how hard he worked to acquire it. He calls him Luo Binghe, or just Binghe or, sometimes, bafflingly, Bing-ge (and that one grates against the shock of Luo Binghe's mind in the same moment that a flame of curiosity flares in his chest). He recounts the "scene" each image or statue is from, listing off some of the most horrifying and upsetting moments that Luo Binghe has ever lived through as if they are common knowledge. As if Luo Binghe has ever had the courage to mention them to a single living person, even his own husband.

The mask is strong. After all the different things he has lived through, all the terrible things that this Shen Yuan seems perfectly aware of, it is no matter at all for Luo Binghe to smile benignly and ask interested follow up questions, even while his breathing tries to go short again and he can feel the terrible, devastating panic yawning up within him.

This is normally when he would stop whatever he is doing. As a child, he would hide himself away in the woodshed. As a young man, he would search for wherever Shizun was and cook him one of his favorite dishes. As a new emperor, mourning the loss of the love of his life, he would find the newest threat to his power and decimate it with extreme prejudice. More recently, he has been attempting to share some of how he feels with his husband, in an effort to build what Shizun insists is healthy communication.

He cannot go to his Shizun right now. Because the person in front of him is either some strange, alternate version of his husband, someone with all his husband's memories removed, or someone who has taken over parts of his soul and body to use them for some nefarious purpose. No matter what, this is not someone Luo Binghe can trust with healthy communication.

He makes it through the next hour of conversation. It would be cute, if he could be sure that this is his Shizun, the way that he so eagerly talks about this topic. It would be cute, if Shen Yuan was not speaking eagerly and happily about the worst parts of Luo Binghe and the worst things that had ever happened to him. It would be cute, if the conversation did not occasionally swerve in truly incomprehensible directions, such as the amount of sex Luo Binghe tends to have with random women and the staggeringly large harem he has supposedly collected.

He makes it through the conversation with a smile and encouragement. When Shen Yuan finishes explaining every piece of "memorabilia" in his quarters, he remembers what had led them here in the first place and scrambles to return to drawing a map for Luo Binghe to make his way to his friend.

Luo Binghe pouts, flutters his eyelashes again, leans hard on the rapport they have built over the past hour of his listening. Shen Yuan takes very little convincing to join him in a walk across the city. Part of Luo Binghe wants to test him in other ways, try to determine just what is happening here. But, whoever this Shen Yuan is, it is obvious that he is either the best liar Luo Binghe has ever met, or completely oblivious to the larger game at play. And he is so knowledgeable about this strange other-Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe still does not know what is going on, but it must somehow be related to this. What a strange thing to include in the alternate world, otherwise.

He will think about it more, allow the panic to come, once he is on his own again. For now, he will gather all of the information that he can from someone who knows more than him.

"This book," he starts, walking down the streets of the city as though he has lived in this world his whole life, easier to do after the days of searching, "you said that it was called Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

"Yes!" Shen Yuan enthuses. "Why? Were you thinking of reading it yourself? I've already spoiled a lot of it."

"I ask because, when this one arrived at your door, you asked if I was talking to you about that book, I think." He had. Luo Binghe had said the name Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan had said are you talking about Proud Immortal Demon Way right now?

"You're right. I completely forgot about that. It's because Shen Qingqiu, your mom's friend, he has the same name as one of the characters in the book."

And then it all goes a little sideways. Shen Yuan talks eagerly and without much need for encouragement, considering all the effort Luo Binghe already put into showing his interest. And that's a good thing, probably, because this is most definitely some kind of clue, but Luo Binghe cannot bring himself to even open his mouth, lest he do something awful like vomit on the pavement or start crying.

Shen Yuan speaks of Shen Qingqiu, the leader of Qing Jing peak, who was Luo Binghe's shizun. Shen Qingqiu, who was "an abusive and pedophilic piece of shit who deserved everything he got." Shen Yuan spits out facts with an impassioned fury that Luo Binghe recognizes from every other time his Shizun has encountered someone truly cruel.

If Luo Binghe thought it was bad before, hearing the details of his time in the Endless Abyss, this is worse. This is terrible.

Shen Yuan talks of Luo Binghe's first years on the Peak, before his Shizun had his qi deviation and changed. The beatings. The bullying. The boiling tea over his head. The woodshed. The blatant blind eye to his misfortune.

There are things from Luo Binghe's life that he does not think about. These are the majority of them. The horrible, awful years when he thought he had finally found a form of security and instead stumbled into relentless exclusion and pain. Rejected for a reason that he had never been able to understand. The pain bestowed by a version of his husband that no longer exists. The ache before something changed.

His husband is different now. Has been since the qi deviation. But that doesn't mean that those things did not happen. Luo Binghe has tried to explain it to himself a thousand different ways over the years. He still does not have a definitive answer.

In this awful, terrible story that Shen Yuan tells, Shizun never changes. Never becomes the kind Shizun that Luo Binghe married. In this awful, terrible story that Shen Yuan tells, Shen Qingqiu still throws his disciple in the Endless Abyss.

In this awful, terrible story that Shen Yuan tells, Luo Binghe rises from the Endless Abyss full of rage and revenge. He hunts down everyone who had ever hurt him and he kills them. The Luo Binghe of this story finds his Shizun. He traps him in the Water Prison of Huan Hua Palace, tortures him for days, cuts off all his limbs and tortures him still.

It's horrifying. Luo Binghe has imagined similar things, sometimes, at his very worst. But he has never acted upon those thoughts. And he has never considered something like that toward his Shizun.

"I recognize these streets." He speaks too abruptly, and it cuts off the end of Shen Yuan's story. Something about Yue Qingyuan and traps. Luo Binghe can't hear it. He can't see or hear anything past the images in his mind. "I know where I am going now, Shen Yuan."

"Oh," there is disappointment and hesitation in Shen Yuan's voice, and Luo Binghe should fix it, but he can't make any more words come out. He is going to cry. "Okay. I guess I'll let you go the rest of the way on your own then?"

He's waiting for an invitation to continue the walk, and it's one that Luo Binghe cannot give.

"Yes, thank you." He gives an aborted salute, realizing halfway through that he hasn't seen anyone do something like that in this world. Shen Yuan laughs a little and gives a sloppy sort of salute as well.

Luo Binghe starts to walk away, but he only gets a few steps before he hears Shen Yuan call out again.

"Wait!" He's taken a step in Luo Binghe's direction, and he needs out of this conversation, but he can never disobey his Shizun. If this is him. "If you need any more help, or if you just want to talk, you're welcome to come by again. You know where to find me and everything."

Is it Shizun? Is it Shizun? Is it Shizun? This Shen Yuan is staring at him with a kind of friendly desperation, his hand outstretched between them, and Luo Binghe would never dare to deny his husband such a simple request as this. Luo Binghe would never dare to grant a request like this from someone other than his husband.

"Thanking Shen Yuan for his help today," he grits out, because it's all gone so far past too much and he doesn't know what will happen next, "but this one must go now."

And he leaves, hustling off down the street, fading into the darkness as quickly and effortlessly as he can, so that Shen Yuan will not be able to follow him any further.

He can see, though, as the slight figure of Shen Yuan turns to make its way back the way they came. Part of him yearns to follow still, but there are too many thoughts shouting in his head.

Shen Qingqiu. His husband. The version of him that had been so cruel and unkind in Luo Binghe's childhood. A version of himself that had tortured him for days on end before finally killing him.

He sits down in the stench and damp of a side alley. It may be a different world, but a gutter is a gutter and Luo Binghe has sat in his fair share of them.

He needs a moment. Luo Binghe is famous for his strategic mind. His husband, in his softer moments, will say that Luo Binghe is the smartest man in the world. There is a puzzle here, and he will figure it out. He will uncover every mystery until he finds the path that will lead him back to his Shizun.

Three worlds. There are three different ones, at least as far as he has uncovered so far. The version of the world that he was born in, where he met his kind Shizun and married him. The version of the world that he is in at this moment, with its strange technology and lack of magic and potential other-world versions of people he knows. The version of his original world as told in a story in this world, full of staggering secrets no one should have access to and staggering inaccuracies that could never be true.

Shizun’s World

Shen Yuan’s World

The Cruel Shizun’s World

What does Luo Binghe know? He knows that Shizun disappeared from out of Shizun’s World. He knows that the floating blue boxes have followed him from one world to the next. The only consistency beside himself.

Shen Yuan is something of a consistency. There are common threads. All the mannerisms of his husband with none of the appearance. Although, again, Shen Yuan's face somewhat resembles that of the mushroom body his Shizun inhabited for a time.

This is edging close to something that Luo Binghe has been toying with for many years. The mystery of the kind Shizun. Because he had known Shen Qingqiu for years and years. He had studied his every mannerism, trying desperately to uncover the secret to keep him from flying into a violent rage. Luo Binghe, when he was younger, had made it his hourly mission to know where Shen Qingqiu was located, what he was doing, what mood he was in, what was happening to him at that time, how it might impact his mood in the future. He needed to do everything he could to know when to avoid him, when to bring him fresh firewood, when to stand still and take it.

It was the only way he could find to escape the whip and the hot tea and the bullying of his sect siblings. Luo Binghe had never gotten to the point that he could track it completely. He was too young. By the end of those first few years, though, he would argue that he could stand in the top five people who knew Shen Qingqiu best. Maybe not his deep secrets and history, but certainly his daily life and how it might influence his moods.

It was easy, then, to notice the shift after the qi deviation. When his Shizun turned distant and quiet and then, several weeks later, truly emerged as the kind Shizun that was so easy to love. That Luo Binghe worked for and admired and desired until he married him and could do it all even more.

Luo Binghe was watching closely. First to avoid danger. Then to try and understand what was happening. Then because he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere else.

He knows that the rest of the sect had concerns about possession. They thought they were so subtle, sneaking past with all their artifacts and tests and secret meetings. It was easy to see, though, from Luo Binghe's place on the very outside of everything.

He knows it was not possession or a curse. The sect would have noticed. He has formed his own theories over the years. His husband has claimed that it was the qi deviation, and that is possible, given the wide-ranging effects that a qi deviation can have. But, even so, what kind of deviation could create such a fundamental and lasting change? It was as if a completely different person was leading the peak. Different mannerisms, word choices, facial expressions, opinions on disciples, punishments, tastes in food. He would sometimes be able to recall a single memory with accurate detail, but the daily minutiae of running a peak, of classes, of past events seemed to have completely escaped him. It was as if a completely separate person had slipped right into the skin of Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe had truly never put much thought in it beyond that. Shizun was someone completely different. That was enough for him. Whoever that man was who had initially been Shen Qingqiu didn't deserve his concern or respect. This kind Shizun, whoever it was, was the person who had taken over, whether through removed memories or through possession or some crack in his meridians deep in the core of who he was. Whatever had happened to that previous version, Luo Binghe wished him good riddance and eternal torture while he was able to live in wedded bliss with the only man who had ever deserved that face.

But, well, if they were looking at a face-stealing situation, then that is suddenly a very relevant thing for Luo Binghe to identify. Because he is in an alternate world and searching for his missing husband. And there is a man here who has the same mannerisms, word choices, and facial expressions as his beloved.

All of this, of course, brings him to the final consideration: the floating blue squares. Luo Binghe does not trust them. The way that they have behaved up until this point has been intentionally vague and cheerful. He does not trust sourceless kindness. That, in addition to the fact that the boxes appeared just as Luo Binghe was at his most desperate and that they offered the one thing he wanted most in the world.

He is not the sort of man to trust something like that.

It cannot be denied that they know more about this situation than him. Even if he does not trust them, he is still willing to use the boxes to get the information he needs.

System, he commands, and the box appears with a cheerful ding that sends a shiver down Luo Binghe's spine.

[The System is here to provide 24-hour service! How can the System help you today?]

I would like an update on my C-Points.

[User Luo Binghe has progressed on quest: Even in This World? You have increased positive feelings with Shen Yuan.]

[Current C-Points: 239]

Dismissed.

[Good luck!]

The blue box disappears but Luo Binghe holds in his satisfied smile despite that, feeling that it could still be watching him at any time.

It had said something earlier, right when Luo Binghe was deciding whether or not to leave his world. We notice that you are searching for someone. Would you like to accept the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to reunite with User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu? It had offered this mission as a method to reunite with his Shizun. The missions so far have all been toward his interaction with Shen Yuan.

And those words. User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu. The System refers to Luo Binghe as User Luo Binghe. What does it mean that it refers to his Shizun in this way?

If it's true, that his Shizun is some kind of face-changer, then it would make perfect sense that this Shen Yuan would be his husband, in yet another face.

And, Luo Binghe cannot help but think of the mushroom body, now that he's remembered it. It could be argued, by some, that his husband's mushroom body had been some halfway point between this Shen Yuan and the body he met his husband in.

He had done his own research, over the years, on the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom. His husband is someone who loves the magical flora and fauna in the world, and so Luo Binghe has made it one of his many labors of love to learn all that he can about the things that matter to him, including any magical living thing. When he came to the information on the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom, some of his own curiosity flared as well, to learn more about this mushroom that was able to save and protect the soul of his most beloved person.

Something very interesting about the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom: it is not meant to create a perfect replica of the cultivator's body. Because it is cultivated with regular input of that person's spiritual energy, it should grow a body that matches their spirit. So, perhaps if the cultivator had lost a limb at some point in their life, or gained several scars, those may not transfer over. From the limited experiments done by the person who published that particular manual, the mushroom would grow to reflect the image that the cultivator held of themself, in their heart and spirit. So, if that person had taken on their life as someone with a lost limb, if that is how they saw themself in their innermost spirit, then the mushroom would grow to reflect that.

User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu. A husband whose truest reflection of his soul is some combination of the two.

So, then, maybe not just a face-changer. Not someone who jumps from body to body when it suits them. Rather, someone who has jumped from exactly one other body, or at least only one other body that has had any influence on his husband's image of himself.

User: Shen Yuan, Bound Role: Shen Qingqiu. That's how the System defines and knows him.

So, the System has been involved as well, at least enough to have this information. Luo Binghe is not surprised about that. It clearly has the power to move someone between worlds and realms effortlessly, to take Luo Binghe's husband from his very arms at the heart of his palace. Almost a god, then, with the level of its powers.

The fact that the System is defining his husband by the name Shen Yuan first, as well, says something. The idea that his husband was once Shen Yuan and then was designated as Shen Qingqiu, the kind Shizun.

Well, if that is the case, then that means that his husband is still here, in the body of Shen Yuan. And that makes all of this so much easier. Luo Binghe knows how to make his husband like him. How to make him care for him. He's been working toward that for years and years.

The question now, is what it will take for him to regain his Shizun, the one who remembers him and everything they have gone through together. Preferably, to return to the world they have left behind, where they had been in the process of building their life and home together.

The question is whether that is something the System is offering and, more importantly, whether it would be more effective to follow the path the System might offer or to simply destroy it for daring to touch the person Luo Binghe loves most in this world and then to find out how to return on his own. He could certainly do it. If there is one thing that Luo Binghe has learned over the course of his life, it is that there is always a solution to every problem, if he is willing to dedicate every part of himself to finding it.

[Warning! User Luo Binghe should know that there is not magic or spiritual energy in this world and that returning to his original universe is impossible without the assistance of the System.]

How convenient, that the System chooses now to speak up on its own. And how does this lord return to his original universe, then.

[User Luo Binghe must complete the bonus chapter mission In Another Life in order to return memories to Shen Yuan and regain access to his original universe.]

And does that mean that Shen Yuan is this Luo Binghe's husband in this world?

[In order to return to his original universe with his husband, User Luo Binghe must complete the bonus chapter mission In Another Life regarding User Shen Yuan.]

That's not an answer, Luo Binghe points out, in the sing-song tone that so many of his enemies have learned to fear. He allows his qi to flare, black demonic flames flickering between his fingers. While there may not be magic in this world, Luo Binghe still has his birthright.

The flames flicker harmlessly through the bottom of the floating blue box, but that does not mean that Luo Binghe has given up on ever being able to hurt it. There are ways to hurt everything that exists. If this System has taken his Shizun from him and does not do what it takes to help Luo Binghe regain him, he will not stop until he finds what it takes to hurt this System.

[The consciousness that resides with Shen Yuan is the same as the one that existed within the one that User Luo Binghe sees as his husband.]

Thank you, System. Luo Binghe uses the smooth, threatening calm of his diplomatic voice, even here in his own mind.

[The System provides top-quality, 24-hour service!]

The blue box quickly shrinks into a very small blue box before vanishing entirely. How interesting. Luo Binghe can't help but notice that it had appeared on its own after he had begun to consider ways to destroy it and go around its requirements. How interesting, as well, that it had been so quick to answer questions once Luo Binghe had begun to consider its destruction more thoroughly. The System's voice might have remained bright and strangely disjointed, but Luo Binghe knows that timing like that speaks only of fear.

He will play by the rules set forth by the System for now, because that seems to be the most straightforward way to return to his husband's side. Luo Binghe is also more resolved than ever to find a way to destroy the System, now that it has made it so obvious that something like that is possible. After all, why would it be so quick to defend itself if there were no need for defense?

In the meantime, though, how wonderful to know that this Shen Yuan he spent his afternoon with is his Shizun in another body. A small, cute, wonderful body, that shows its feelings and expressions so freely and blushes so easily. To think, that this is his husband's consciousness, in a body that Luo Binghe could lift off the ground without a thought. Such a soft, sweet, spoiled body. One of a precious young lord who has never had to work a day in his life, just as it was always meant to be.

How lovely, to be able to see his Shizun in yet another body and all the alluring and perfect ways his dearest love inhabits that face. How is Luo Binghe meant to do anything other than fall immediately and even more deeply into the love that he swims in every moment of every day?

He will find a way to return tomorrow. This is his dearest Shizun, without the memory of the life they have built together. He will be very angry about that at some point, particularly if he finds that the System is not cooperative in his efforts to return his husband's memories. But, well, for now, it will be sort of fun. Like a game, to make his husband fall back in love with him. Like when they play pretend that they are meeting for the first time, and Luo Binghe is given the chance to see the way his Shizun tries so hard to hide that wonderful warm fondness in his eyes but slowly loses the fight against the tide of it all.

This will be fun.

*~*~*

Luo Binghe arrives at Shen Yuan's door late in the morning. He would have liked to arrive right at dawn, as the sun rose, so he could see its light reflected in the eyes of this new face his husband has chosen.

But, well, Luo Binghe has lived with his beloved Shizun long enough to know the truth of how that would go. His Shizun does not enjoy the light of dawn in the same way that Luo Binghe does. In a world like this, where his hands are soft and uncalloused and his skin is pale as the moon from the way he has hidden away from the sun, Luo Binghe does not believe that his husband would ever be awake for the light of the rising sun, and he will not begin this acquaintance by waking him early. That way does not his Shizun's love lie.

Shen Yuan opens the door after the knocking, and it must still not be late enough, because his staggeringly short hair is mussed and standing up on one side of his face, and there are red marks along his cheek as if he was resting it against his arms in his sleep.

Luo Binghe wants to eat him alive. His Shizun is always beautiful, always desirable. The face that he fell in love with is stunning like a cold creek or a distant mountain. Staggeringly lovely and unreachable. Luo Binghe longs to muss him up, mark his skin, stake his claim in a way that can never be erased. And his Shizun welcomes it, best of all.

This face, though, is something so small and cute that Luo Binghe isn't sure if he wants to swallow him whole or hunt him like prey. He could build him a castle made only of soft and sumptuous things and keep him there so that he never had to feel the touch of a single rough thing, other than the callouses on his own lover's hands. Luo Binghe wants to hold him up against a wall. He wants to destroy this version of his Shizun. Wants to see what it would take to make him cry. Luo Binghe wonders if this is the same kind of passion and impulse that overcomes his husband when looking at him.

"Oh!" Shen Yuan exclaims. “It's you!" And he flushes a little. Luo Binghe wants to lick it off his cheeks. "I realized after you left the other day that I never asked your name."

"This one is Jiang Ruobing," Luo Binghe demurs. After Shizun's long explanation of the character Luo Binghe yesterday, it will likely raise more suspicion for Luo Binghe to suddenly claim that as his name as well. "I made Shen Yuan lunch, as a thank you for his help yesterday."

Luo Binghe did make this lunch, coincidentally including all of the things that his husband most loves to eat. What he does not tell Shizun is that, last night, after he had undergone several revelations, Luo Binghe had broken into an empty restaurant and taken the time to learn how to use their strange tools that decorated the kitchen. He had cheerfully stolen the food, as he has no money to his name and refuses to accept that as an excuse for his Shizun to eat anything less than the best. He had made several iterations before he found himself pleased with his understanding of these heating units and stoves. By the time he finished, the sun was almost coming up, and Luo Binghe had escaped, keeping the food warm with a talisman.

He can see the moment the smell of the food hits Shen Yuan, the way his nostrils flare, eyes widen, gaze flicks down to the box in Luo Binghe's hand.

It is easy to make Shizun happy, once you've made as much of a study of it as Luo Binghe has. Luckily for him, he is already off to something of a fantastic start. His Shizun had always had a soft spot for poor, suffering strays. It is something Luo Binghe had gleefully abused in his childhood and continues to teasingly abuse to this day. It's not just the tears, though that has always been effective, but any hint of what Shizun has quietly referred to as a "tragic backstory" tends to do the trick. Convenient, then, that Luo Binghe had been able to arrive at his doorstep, lost and confused in a large city and requiring his Shizun's guidance.

Beyond that, his Shizun has always been the sort of person to care very deeply and in detail about certain topics, such as the proper way to write a story, all magical flora and fauna, and the many faults of his close friend Shang Qinghua. He enjoys any opportunity to pontificate for hours, teaching or ranting, to a captive audience. Luckily for him, there is little his husband enjoys more than to watch the flush of righteous anger enter his Shizun's eyes and to listen raptly to determine if there is any obstacle he may need to obliterate. Yesterday, Luo Binghe had been trying to conduct an extensive evaluation of both this world and Shen Yuan, to determine his footing. Again, convenient that this resulted in his paying close and careful attention to the words of his Shizun while he talked about something he truly cares about in this universe.

The third approach, that Luo Binghe will now be taking, is to feed Shen Yuan. His husband has always been a picky eater, someone who tends to prefer inedia to consuming any of the food offered by Qing Jing Peak or the restaurants they pass on their travels. This, of course, no longer holds true as soon as it is something his Binghe has cooked.

"Thanks for doing that. You didn't need to." Shen Yuan takes the proffered wooden box of his favorite lunch foods and carries it inside, gesturing for Luo Binghe to follow. Luo Binghe has never been one to walk away from an invitation from his Shizun, and he certainly won't start now.

Back into this strange, comfortable, cluttered space. Luo Binghe makes his way to the table he stood by last time, and Shen Yuan brings over chopsticks and plates before starting to unpack the lunch. He removes one layer of dishes and seems surprised to find more beneath it. In between each new layer that he removes, Shen Yuan sends looks of panicked confusion Luo Binghe's way.

Ah. This again. His husband is no longer used to being spoiled by someone else. While he may have the body and dwelling of someone wealthy, he has clearly never received this kind of aggressive pampering from another person before. Luo Binghe props his elbows on the table and rests his chin on top of his hands, grinning to let just a little bit of fang peek through. He can see in gleeful moment by gleeful moment, Shen Yuan noticing the slightly impolite sprawl of his limbs, just a little impudent in the way his Shizun loves. Shen Yuan scoffing at the flirtatious posture of his hands. Shen Yuan noticing, glancing away, noticing again the sharpness of the tooth and Luo Binghe's smile.

"Will Jiang Ruobing join me in this meal?" Shen Yuan offers, like Luo Binghe had known he would.

"This one couldn't possibly." Luo Binghe tips his head to the side. His Shizun has been known to compare him to a dog, when he does this. Luo Binghe wonders if it's too soon for head pats. "This humble one worked hard to make a meal for Shen Yuan, who was kind enough to help him yesterday." The flush from earlier has crawled its way down from Shen Yuan's cheeks into his neck. Luo Binghe wonders how low it goes. He wants nothing more than to learn every such thing about this new body of his husband's.

"Please, I insist. This is so much food I could never eat it all, and I don't want all your hard work to go to waste."

"Of course, if Shen Yuan insists, how could this one do anything but obey?" Luo Binghe knows that, for many others, he may be coming on too strong. This amount of flirting could be nothing less than utterly shameless! But, he has gone through the process of seducing his husband before, and Luo Binghe doubts a single implication of his words has yet to successfully land.

"Ha," Shen Yuan scoffs uncomfortably while he hands over a set of chopsticks and a plate. Now that he has been invited to partake in the meal, Luo Binghe takes over the distribution of dishes into an artful arrangement on the table between them, making sure that his Shizun's most beloved favorites are closest within his reach. "Where did you say you were travelling here from?"

"I am from a small town far north of here," Luo Binghe replies lightly, because this Shen Yuan has not yet learned that this is how his voice sounds when he is lying. "Shen Yuan would not have heard of it, but the people there are close-knit and old-fashioned."

"That explains," Shen Yuan hesitates in his words, waves his hand in Luo Binghe's general direction, clears his throat. "Never mind." He looks over the spread of food, seeming to need to take another minute to adjust to the sheer amount Luo Binghe has brought with him. "Ah, do you know which of these dishes might have gluten in them?"

"Gluten?” Luo Binghe is caught off guard by the question, as his husband has never shown such curiosity regarding specific ingredients before.

“Wheat, or things made from wheat,” Shen Yuan clarifies, as if that was the concern.

“There would be some in the jiaozi and the sauce of the jing jiang rou si." Luo Binghe gestures toward two of the dishes closest to his husband, ones that he always receives as if they are a treat, no matter how many times Luo Binghe makes them for him. At the motion, there is a sad little smile that appears on Shen Yuan's face.

"Then Jiang Ruobing will have to enjoy those ones for me, I’m afraid." He pushes the plates in Luo Binghe's direction and begins to provide an explanation before Luo Binghe can determine if there is a polite way to obtain one. "I can't have any gluten or it messes me up for at least a day or two. Don't want to bring that kind of energy to your visit."

"Shen Yuan has things he cannot eat?"

His Shizun scoffs a laugh, the kind of noise he's always made when there is a much larger story that he doesn't feel like going into at the time. "Ah, yes, for sure. I can't really have anything with gluten or strong dyes in them. Heavier meat is okay when it's just a little, but I try not to eat that too much either." He huffs a little again and smiles in a self-deprecating way. "No need for you to deprive yourself on my part, though. I would be happy for you to enjoy those things for me."

Luo Binghe had always noticed some of the mannerisms his husband displayed that indicated he may have, at one time, been quite sickly. Without-A-Cure had been one thing, but there were comments he would make about food or rest or pain or treatments or medication that always hinted at previous experience with chronic concerns. This, then, might have been what he was thinking of all those times. Luo Binghe tries not to be too frustrated with himself, because there was no way he could have known this before this moment. But, then, at the same time, what kind of husband is he, to not know the diet of his most beloved person? What if he had accidentally poisoned his Shizun somehow, without even knowing it?

"Begging Shen Yuan's pardon, but would he be willing to tell this lowly one more about the foods that might cause him harm? This one would do much to avoid making such a mistake again."

"You'll be here for a while if you want me to explain it all." Another warning, another quiet, self-loathing smile. His Shizun clearly does not expect Luo Binghe to be interested in this topic, which is going to be a surprise for him, since there is nothing Luo Binghe enjoys more than activities which allow him to both know more about his husband and do a better job taking care of him.

"Anything Shen Yuan is willing to say, this lowly one would be honored to hear." A faint blush again, but still likely in response to the flattery rather than any awareness of devotion or flirtation. Even so, Luo Binghe is able to coax out more information from his Shizun over the next half hour or so, particularly once he has taken a bite of one of the dishes and realized just what kind of delicacies Luo Binghe has on offer. Shen Yuan talks and Luo Binghe listens with every particle of his body, doing everything he can to commit each piece of this to memory. He will not make the same mistake again.

After their meal, Shen Yuan seems to hover in the awkward in-between of not knowing whether Luo Binghe is supposed to leave, or if he wants to invite him to stay. Technically, Luo Binghe brough the food with him, they ate the food, and now they're done. Shizun is clearly feeling a little guilty though, about eating the gift Luo Binghe brought and then immediately sending him on his way. Luo Binghe is doing absolutely nothing to help the situation, and is, in fact, actively making it harder for his dear husband, by continuing to sit at the table and smile guilelessly, as if he is not picking up on any of the subtle feelers Shen Yuan is sending out.

"What was Shen Yuan doing, before this one so rudely interrupted?"

His husband grimaces shame-facedly, the way he always does when someone asks him a question like this, and the true answer is that he has been reading some awful novel that his husband searched high and low to discover for him. His eyes dart toward the square in the other area of this room, so reminiscent of the floating blue box of the System, but stationary. Luo Binghe has seen these things all over this strange world, and it seems they are able to portray visual information from far away.

The one in his Shizun's room seems to be relatively static, showing an image of a forest, greyed out and overlaid with several images of text and information. When Luo Binghe continues to wait patiently, Shizun gestures sort of vaguely in that direction and smiles self-depreciatingly.

"Oh, you know. Mostly just Witcher 3 today." He clears his throat.

"I do not know." Luo Binghe tilts his head again, in that way that his Shizun has always loved, and he watches with growing anticipation as one of his hands twitches just a little before stilling. "Who is Witcher 3?"

"You haven't?" Shen Yuan pauses, searching Luo Binghe's face to see if he is teasing or lying. The good news is that Luo Binghe is telling the complete truth. He has no idea what Witcher 3 is. He likely would have asked this exact same question in the exact same way no matter what, though. He opens his eyes wide, lets his smile turn eager and endeared. He is his husband's precious little white sheep, harmless and curious and ready to learn about something new. "Oh, well, I'm not trying to spend another day telling you about something I'm obsessed with. You don't want to hear about this."

"Please," Luo Binghe lets his bottom lip just out just a little bit. Just enough that it's probably an accident. "I want to hear about everything that interests you. Shen Yuan is one of the most fascinating speakers and best teachers I have ever encountered."

Shen Yuan rears back a little, the blush that had faded over the past meal coming back hard and fast. Good. He's had a long enough break. It is not difficult to make his husband talk about the things that he loves, when he is met with an eager and willing student.

"Ah ha ha," he scratches the back of his head, pulls at the loose-fitting shirt that he is wearing. Luo Binghe might have used every piece of his willpower to avoid letting his eyes linger on the exposed skin of his wrists and arms, if this had been the day before. Today, he sees no reason to pretend as if he wants anything less that to do whatever this man asks and several things he would never think to ask. His husband is certainly not yet at a place where that explanation will even enter into his mind. Luo Binghe does not have to worry about getting ahead of himself. "Well, I could explain it to you?" He gestures again in the direction of the box, and Luo Binghe perks up, jumping eagerly to his feet and not allowing even a second for his Shizun to doubt his offer or take it back.

Shizun guides him over to the incredibly clean and plush sofa and Luo Binghe settles in quite a bit closer than would be appropriate in his world. From the people he has observed here, this is too close here as well.

And then, over the next few hours, his wonderful husband tells him another story. This time, he speaks of a fierce warrior who travels the realm and fights terrifying monsters. He speaks quite in depth about the monsters. He also speaks in depth about the many women who flock to this character, Geralt, and all the ways that he has gained and lost his power and reputation over the course of his unnaturally long life. Shen Yuan speaks in general terms at first, but he becomes too enthusiastic in his discussion of the various monsters and reaches into his pocket to bring out another, smaller glowing box which he uses to show various pictures.

He displays the most interesting monsters. Luo Binghe can't help but strategize about how he himself would attack such a creature, and his Shizun is happy to interject and praise and correct. After the monsters, though, he begins going into more detail about the history of this Geralt. Luo Binghe is put in a situation where he must rapidly come to the realization that his husband has what he and Shang-shishu would refer to as a "type."

This Geralt has long hair, though his seems to be frequently unwashed and quite greasy and dirty. Not the sort of hair his Shizun would want to pat or play with. He is a strong and unmatched fighter, but Luo Binghe has seen the monsters he faces. He would be able to beat Geralt in a fight. He would have no defense against his blood parasites, Xin Mo, the combination of demonic and spiritual qi that has proven effective against a thousand foes before him. This Geralt is some hybrid outcast that many use for his strength and then discard. Shen Yuan makes it very clear just how "cool" he thinks that is.

Luo Binghe knows what sort of man and what sort of husband he is. He knows that he gets jealous easily. It is something his husband pretends to be bothered by but is actually quite fond of. When Luo Binghe gets sticky and whiny and possessive, his beloved Shizun is quick to hold him close, reassure him, show with his body just how much he belongs to Luo Binghe. Now, though, with his Shizun's memory being what it is, he can't do any of that. Worst of all, he can see that light in his husband's eyes, the way that he lingers on pictures of this Geralt. It speaks of the kind of ashamed attraction that he has learned to pick up on over the years, from the many times a similar expression was directed his way.

This Geralt is just a character in what his husband has referred to as a "video game." But, then, Luo Binghe is just a character in a book, as far as his husband is aware. So maybe Luo Binghe will have to keep an eye out for this strong man with long, white hair. Just in case.

He can come to terms with the fact that he is jealous of a character in a story. He has never pretended to be the precious white lotus his husband thinks he is. Well, that's not quite right. He has most certainly pretended to be that white lotus, but he has never once believed himself to be. He knows that he is possessive and that he has never been happy to have his Shizun's eyes or thoughts on anyone but him.

It is frustrating, to sit here on the same sofa as his most beloved person, and listen to him talk about another man that he is clearly interested in, all while knowing that he is unaware of the commitment he made to Luo Binghe.

It is not that difficult, though, to direct the conversation back to the monsters in this other world, and Luo Binghe will never tire of seeing this part of his husband, one that so few are ever granted the privilege of meeting.

The next hours pass like that. Shen Yuan talks and becomes more animated and forgets himself completely. He has no fan to hide behind, and Luo Binghe gets to learn how the same facial expressions fit onto a different face.  When he finishes explaining everything through words and pictures, his husband takes a strangely shaped contraption and uses it to control the images on the glowing box. He continues to explain and narrate over every second and the sun slowly makes its way across the sky, outside those wide windows.

Luo Binghe would never bother to pay attention to something like the System, when his husband is in the room to take all of his attention. It seems as though the System does not like this fact, and so several hours into their interactions, a small floating box with just the number of his C-Points appears in the bottom corner of his vision.

They pass their day. His husband sits just a little too close to him and continues to talk. Luo Binghe basks in his presence, no matter what form it takes. And the numbers in the little box continue to go up.

*~*~*

Their time together that day does not end with a kiss. Neither, does it end with another walk home. Shen Yuan informs Luo Binghe, laughing a little shame-facedly, that the walk the day before had been a little ways outside of his normal mobility exercises. Luo Binghe takes a moment to reassess the activities of the day through this lens. On second glance, his husband had been much less active today, compared to the day before. Looking closer, Luo Binghe can see the telltale signs of his Shizun hiding pain. It's in the careful and intentional motion of every joint and limb. Luo Binghe resolves not to make a mistake like this again.

Their day together does not end with a kiss. Neither does the next one, nor the one after that. Luo Binghe knows better than to think for even a second that his husband will be so quick to realize that he is being courted. Even so, the days slide by with a sort of wonderful agony.

Luo Binghe doesn't know if he'll ever be able to put these days into words. How wonderful, to be allowed to meet your most important person in another world and find a way to learn them and fall in love with them all over again. How wonderful, to watch as they slowly grow fond of you in return, to watch the love slowly return to their eyes when they look at you. 

And yet, how awful to be stuck in this strange and unfamiliar place. Luo Binghe is the kind of man who could adjust to any situation without difficulty. He has been kicked to the ground so many times, who would he be were he not able to drag himself back up out of the dirt? He knows how to survive on his own. When he married Shen Qingqiu, a peak lord and immortal cultivator, he had thought it would never again be necessary to find a way to survive on his own.

Well, that's not quite right. When you learn a lesson like that, so many times over, at such a young age, there is little you can do to escape it. Luo Binghe never truly stops preparing to have to survive and fend for himself in a world that is cruel and unfamiliar. He had always been prepared for this, in the back of his mind, guard never fully down. He had hoped that, now that he was married, it would mean that fear could slowly bury itself, until one day it might finally vanish. One year of marriage is not long enough for something like that.

The days slide by, and it's wonderful to know his husband in this new world and this new life. He wants to be able to tell someone what this has been like for him. He wants to see that joyful spark return to his Shizun's eye, when he opens the door to see Luo Binghe on the other side. And, when that spark finally does return, he wants nothing more than to run home and tell his husband of the wonderful thing he has accomplished this day.

Instead, when Luo Binghe "goes home," all he's really doing is slinking down the block and wedging himself deep in an alleyway, where it would be difficult to see him should someone pass by on the road. He does not want his Shizun to accidentally encounter him. Each morning Luo Binghe is able to use his qi to burn off any sweat or dirt on his skin. He has yet to discover a way to access any bathing facilities. He has stolen several more outfits, so that his husband will not start to question his repeated clothing, considering Shen Yuan arrives to every day with a new colorful shirt and loose pair of pants.

And they are spending every day together. That is one thing that Luo Binghe is quite proud to admit. He has worked hard to integrate himself into this version of his husband's life. Not as difficult to do, when he has spent every moment since his adolescence planning for how to do exactly that. He knows what it takes to gain a fond smile, and he knows how to read each line of his husband's face to see what it is he might desire next.

It is because he knows his husband so well, that he knows this pattern is not sustainable. The System continues to rack up points, making it clear in data Luo Binghe did not need that Shen Yuan is growing in his affection toward Luo Binghe. If left to his own devices, Shen Yuan would be content to live forever in this pattern. Luo Binghe might feel slightly guilty about pushing him beyond this, if he had not seen all the ways it made his husband happy as well. Over the past year, Shizun has made it clear that there are times when he wants Luo Binghe to push him.

This is not entirely selfless. Luo Binghe wants his husband back, as much as he is enjoying this smaller, softer version of him. He knows that his husband is growing in affection toward him, but affection alone does not seem to be what the System requires for their return to their home and the treatment of his amnesia.

Even so, there are weeks of Luo Binghe bringing every meal, home cooked, or more accurately, cooked in a stolen kitchen until he receives an invitation into Shen Yuan's home. Shared meals, shared walks, and shared time together in that small apartment. Luo Binghe does not understand much of this world, but there is no need to. He has all of the important things.

After these weeks, an alert pings on the floating blue screen of the System.

[Congratulations! User Luo Binghe has completed quest: Even in This World? by maximizing positive feelings that User Shen Yuan has toward him.]

[New quest: This New World Sucks. User Luo Binghe may earn C-Points through sexual pleasure provided to User Shen Yuan. Important: Success criteria for this mission require that User Luo Binghe provides oral sex to User Shen Yuan. Good luck!]

And that throws Luo Binghe for a little bit of a loop. He has no moral, sexual, or personal hang-ups over the idea of pleasuring his husband with his mouth. Certainly none. The only barrier, would be the simple fact that his husband does not seem to want it. Until now, that had been all that Luo Binghe needed to know in order to mark the topic as closed. He has learned from their first sexual encounters and does not intend to repeat such a mistake.

Luo Binghe has never been allowed to pleasure his Shizun with his mouth. Not even once, in the year since they finally worked out their communication and started to build a life together.

It wouldn't be a concern, if it were simply that he thought Shizun did not prefer sex that way. He is certainly a particular and exacting man, with clear and strong opinions on most things, even if he tries to hide them behind a thousand painted fans. Luo Binghe has learned how to notice every subtle twitch, every change in posture, and he would never want to do something that his husband would not want.

It doesn't matter that he fantasized about it so much, as a young disciple in the side room, quietly muffling his breaths into his arm while he pleasured himself in the small bed. He worked so hard to be accepted as the person who would serve his Shizun, in every way that he might desire, and he would imagine all the ways that could happen and evolve. Imagine one day sitting next to Shizun at the table over dinner and being called over to bend down and provide pleasure in one more way.

Luo Binghe has many, many extensive fantasies of the various ways that something like this might occur, and has only become more creative over the years.

Even so, Shizun was always a willing and eager participant, in these fantasies. Even the rougher ones.

So, if it was simply that this was not the way his husband preferred to receive pleasure in bed, then that would be the end of it.

Luo Binghe has learned how to notice every subtle twitch, every change in posture, that might indicate something that his husband would not want. He learned how to do it when he was still a new initiate, struggling desperately to figure out just what it was everyone else on the peak had figured out that he had not. Just what it was that made him so despicable to his peak lord, so that maybe he could stop doing it. And then, he learned it all over again, when he changed into his kind Shizun, and all his terrifying little mannerisms changed with him. This time, not to avoid rage, but rather to find out just what it would take for one more smile, one more head pat, one more soft gesture of warmth.

So, he knows when his Shizun is saying no because the thing being suggested is repulsive to him. He knows what it looks like when he is saying no so gently so as to not upset the overly fragile feelings of his endless admirers, even when he would rather spit than consider whatever they may be suggesting. And he knows what it looks like when his Shizun is saying no but what he's really saying is something more like please, Binghe, I can't admit how much I want this until you bully me into it.

That one is Luo Binghe's favorite.

Which is why it is so infuriating that the face his Shizun makes when Luo Binghe suggests one of his many childhood fantasies is none of these options. Instead, it seems to be some kind of horrified shock. Like it is completely unfathomable to Shizun that his devoted disciple might want to pleasure him in this way as well.

It seems, to Luo Binghe, a completely natural extension of their dynamic. Shizun is the kind of person who loves to be cossetted and pampered. He loves nothing more than to read a book, fanning himself lightly under the warm and comfortable rays of the sun while his adoring husband toils away in the kitchen and brings him snacks and tea and soft kisses pressed just to the crown of his forehead.

His husband loves nothing in the world more than being spoiled. How convenient, then, that Luo Binghe gains such joy and fulfillment from being the one to spoil him. There is no greater pleasure in Luo Binghe's life, after his childhood of endless deprivation and loss, after years in the Endless Abyss when he often had nothing to eat but his own limbs, after the years when Shizun was away and he had all the wealth he could want and no reason to use it. What more could he want than to have the ability to keep the person he loves near to him, meet their every whim, ensure that they want for nothing?

It seems like a natural extension of their dynamic. Shizun loves nothing more than to be pleasured and Luo Binghe loves nothing more than to bring his husband pleasure.

He would think that Shizun would enjoy it, to lie back and relax while his adoring husband worshiped him, brought him to climax with his clever mouth and careful hands. (Or, even more so - while Binghe is bringing up his husband's myriad and confusing sexual reservations - to allow his Binghe to undergo all the time-consuming discomfort and preparation so that he could take his pleasure from the clutch of Luo Binghe's body. Binghe would certainly enjoy it. Both. Either.)

But always, in this one way, his Shizun behaves as though Luo Binghe has said some terrible, taboo thing. Shocking and unthinkable. The sort of topic he will not even give enough thought to in order to discover whether or not he might want it.

Which is why this is such a concerning situation. The System has set such a thing as the necessary requirement in order to return memories. Luo Binghe is willing to at least have an intentional conversation about it, in the way his husband has always been so quick to avoid. Should he continue to report discomfort or displeasure at the idea, Luo Binghe will simply hunt down and torture the System until it agrees to return them without such unnecessary requirements.

At that thought, a bright and happy little blue screen appears in front of him again, providing cheerful encouragement and a hint toward how to achieve his goal. As if Luo Binghe does not know his own husband and is not aware of what will be necessary to complete this achievement. He closes the screen with barely a glance. If it is still so quick to respond to his thoughts in that direction, then he remains firm in his belief that it is possible to kill this System. He has only refrained from doing so due to his enjoyment in growing to know this alternate Shizun, and the fact that a clear path back to their home is laid out before him. As soon as this becomes any more convoluted or unattainable, he will set out to circumvent these ridiculous quests.

For this moment, though, there is something more interesting for Luo Binghe to focus on. "maximizing positive feelings that User Shen Yuan has toward him." He had known that his husband was growing fond of him again, but the idea that Luo Binghe can know that his husband feels as fond of him as he is capable of feeling. Despite it all, it's a heady feeling.

It also means that he has lost his last excuse as to why he has not told Shen Yuan the truth of his existence here. Up until now, Luo Binghe has been waiting until they had built a relationship strong enough that Shen Yuan would at least listen to what he has to say. In the best case scenario, he will simply believe him. But Luo Binghe at least needs him to be willing to listen.

His husband does not have the best track record in responding to stark revelations about hidden details of Luo Binghe's identity. Even if he may eventually change his tune, come around to understanding, his husband's first reaction to such information could easily be to lash out and push Luo Binghe away. He has been trying to make sure that their relationship was close enough that this would not be the automatic response. He has maybe been putting it off, and using the closeness of their relationship as an excuse.

Luo Binghe promised his Shizun that he would never let any more harm befall him. And yet, over and over again, he has failed in that promise. He is doing all that is within his power to fix it. It's selfish to hold back this detail, just because he would not know how to survive in this strange world if his husband were to cast him out.

Not true. He could survive. Luo Binghe knows how to survive anywhere. He's being selfish, because there is always a way that he could find to solve this problem, even if it means killing the System itself, but he instead holds himself back, just because he does not want to be alone again. And so, again, he is choosing his own happiness over the potential harm of his husband.

These revelations all occur while he is sitting on a couch next to Shen Yuan, distantly watching the drama that his husband has been so eager to show him. Luo Binghe is enjoying it, but there is so much space left in his brain with which to agonize over things like this. Enough space left to remind himself just how selfishly he is behaving.

"Shen-ge?" he says, because he tried calling him Shizun and Shen Yuan wasn't willing to let it happen. They arrived on this compromise just a day or two into their meeting in this world. It's overly-familiar, just as much in this world is. At first, it almost made Luo Binghe blush to say it. Now, he has noticed that Shen Yuan will often be the one who is blushing, when he says such things, and it's become much easier to say. "This Jiang Ruobing has something he would like to tell you."

Shen Yuan has been trying to dissuade him from speaking in such a formal way, but that has yet to happen, and will likely never occur. At the tone in Luo Binghe's voice, though, he can clearly see as Shen Yuan straightens up, leans forward to pause the drama, turns back to face him on the couch.

"Of course, Ruobing. You can tell me anything and I will listen."

How lovely, to be back in a world where his Shizun says such kind things to him. The same sort of kind words that he would use when Luo Binghe was a child too, before he threw him into the Endless Abyss anyway.

Selfish.

"This Jiang Ruobing is not who he has portrayed himself to be." Luo Binghe goes to pour out his whole story, but just that first sentence alone causes the System to flare up before him.

Unlike previous times, when it has arrived with a cheerful-sounding bloop and shared its words on an easily-dismissed blue screen, the System begins flashing a bright and blinding red. The screen is so large that it takes up the entirety of Luo Binghe's vision, blocking out even his view of his husband.

[Warning! Mission failure warning! User Luo Binghe must not disclose the existence of the System or his status as someone from another world to anyone else! Doing so will result in the loss of two thousand C-Points and his automatic deportation to his original world.]

The words remain there, flashing, as Luo Binghe feels a sudden, staggering, overwhelming rage rip through him. A level he has not felt since the destruction of Xin Mo. He knows he is on the edge of lashing out, of vicious and destructive violence.

He cannot do that. Not here and now, while his husband of this world sits before him with his uncalloused hands and a delicate constitution. The window of the System's screen will not close without him manually telling it to do so. He cannot focus long enough to give the command.

Luo Binghe is a demon. A Heavenly Demon. His blood runs hot in his veins and he has lived the last decade with one foot in the more violent culture of the Demonic Realm. He will not allow that to overtake him. Luo Binghe breathes in deep, holds it, pushes through the overwhelming pressure of the screen before him. He breathes the air out slow through jaw-clenched and volcanic fury. He closes the window.

Shen Yuan still sits on the couch before him. His Shizun. His beloved husband, unable to remember anything about his Binghe. Unable to understand what Luo Binghe might be feeling at this moment. Unable to provide the same kind of soothing words and touches that he would, were he to remember his place at Luo Binghe's side.

He looks worried, a furrow between his thicker brows and a hand outstretched onto the couch between them. Luo Binghe has worried him, and he cannot even explain why.

He will force it down. He cannot do this now. This is not what will return his husband to him, and that is the goal here. Luo Binghe forces his face to relax, none of the fury showing. He smiles a loose and calm smile into the face of his husband's worry.

"Apologies, Shen-ge. This Jiang Ruobing was simply overcome with worry for a moment." The tension and release as Shen Yuan initially doubts the explanation before buckling under the trust he holds for Luo Binghe. Buckling under the lies and manipulation. "If Shen-ge is still willing to listen, this one would still like to share his thoughts."

Another lie. He cannot say what he was planning to, but there are so many secrets between them, and the System is only the largest.

It may be wrong, to try and seduce his husband under such false pretenses as this, but there is no option for telling the truth beyond the loss of him entirely, and Luo Binghe is willing to cross every boundary he has to avoid that outcome. If this is the way in which he is able to regain his husband, then this is how it will happen.

Luo Binghe glances down, blinks slowly in a way that he knows emphasizes the length of his eyelashes. His blood moves as he wills it to, and he wills it to flood his cheeks in a high flush. When he glances back up toward Shen Yuan with wide eyes, it is obvious that this is having the impact he intended. Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe open-mouthed and with a matching flush on his own cheeks.

"This one only means to say that he admires Shen-ge very much. Shen-ge has been so welcoming and kind to this Jiang Ruobing, and this Jiang Ruobing would like to be a part of his life for as long as Shen-ge would allow, as a boyfriend or a spouse or a friend." The only way to confess to his husband is to remove any possible room for misinterpretation. Luo Binghe allows a little bit of fang to peek out the corner of his mouth and worry at his lips, as if in nervousness.

"Jiang Ruobing!" Shen Yuan gasps the name as if any of this should be a surprise to him. His eyes are locked onto the place where Luo Binghe's tooth is showing, and he pauses to lick his lips before continuing. "That's, I mean, huh. I never would have thought that someone like you would be interested in men." This is not a surprise to hear only because Luo Binghe's husband has said such things to him before. Luo Binghe accepted long ago that his husband has some internal rule system for who he expects Luo Binghe and others to be attracted to, and it is rarely anything close to accurate. He never worked to correct this because, if Shen Qingqiu suddenly gained the ability to notice when someone is romantically interested in him, Luo Binghe's life would become significantly more complicated.

"This one hopes he has not made Shen-ge uncomfortable with his feelings." This is a lie. Luo Binghe knows that he has made his husband uncomfortable. It happens any time anyone takes the time to speak of genuine emotions. He also knows, after a year of marriage and a decade of shared life before that, that it is impossible to progress in a relationship with Shizun if one is unwilling to make him somewhat uncomfortable. This is another reason why Shen Qingqiu has yet to become aware of his many admirers. Also, Luo Binghe knows what his husband looks like when he is attracted to someone. He knows what it looks like when his husband wants him. Shen Yuan has been looking at him in such a way for weeks now.

"Oh, no, it's okay. I'm an ally and stuff." Luo Binghe nods as if this is a word that he understands. He certainly understands the tone. "Just, you know, I'm straight. So, it's cool and shit, but I don't really feel that way about you." This does not bother Luo Binghe, because he knows that his husband finds him attractive. He also knows that his husband has always struggled to come to terms with this attraction. It wasn't until Luo Binghe came to this world and saw how they might treat attraction to other men that he started to understand part of why that might be.

"This one thanks Shen-ge for being so kind to listen to this lowly one's confession, despite his lack of attraction. This lowly Jiang Ruobing is simply thankful to be in Shen-ge's presence, however he will have this one." Luo Binghe's dear husband sighs in relief, thinking that this conversation is over and that he has escaped unscathed. This is because he has forgotten his history getting to know Luo Binghe. "This one only hopes-" Luo Binghe lets a hitch in his breathing cut off his words for a moment. He calls tears to his eyes, effortless as breathing. "This one only hopes that his dearest person will not send him away now."

It is a delicate balance, navigating the endless invisible barriers and hangups that prevent anyone from reaching the part of his Shizun that is willing to be loved and touched and desired. It takes years to master. Luo Binghe has put in those years. Now, for him, it is not effortless, but his muscle memory can easily take him through the steps.

"Oh, no, Jiang Ruobing." Shen Yuan's soft hands flutter helplessly in the air around Luo Binghe. He ducks his head, as if embarrassed about this display of tears, calling more blood to his face as he does so. The bright red of embarrassment. "No, it's okay. We can still be friends and hang out every day and stuff. Nothing has to change about this friendship. It's, shit, please stop crying."

Shen Yuan's hand finally crosses that invisible boundary that has existed between them in this world, reaching out to pat gently at Luo Binghe's bent head, settling in among his curls. Luo Binghe manages not to curl into the warmth of it, only barely, because then Shen Yuan would take it away and he can't stand to lose it so soon. Despite the lie of some of this, he truly has been desperate to feel his husband's touch in any form over the past two months. This whole process is a show, only in that Luo Binghe is intentionally letting some of the upset that he carries with him show externally. His Shizun always knows when he's exaggerating, and it has never stopped him from showing his endless care and love, so Luo Binghe has never bothered to get out of the habit.

"I'm sorry," Luo Binghe whimpers. "This one will stop crying. It is only that this one has wanted so badly to kiss his Shen-ge, just once. But this one understands. He will not bring this up again." Luo Binghe huffs out one more shaking breath, stops the flow of his tears, raises his eyes back to his husband without wiping his face. He takes one more breath and forces out a smile with a lip that is trembling just a little.

"Hush, hush," Shen Yuan murmurs, reaching out to wipe away the tears that have smeared across Luo Binghe's face. The pads of his thumbs are so soft and smooth, and the gentle brush against his cheeks brings Luo Binghe back to the first time his Shizun was so kind to him after he cried, when Luo Binghe was still newly 14 and ashamed to show such weakness, before his Shizun reassured him that he never needed to hide his tears again.

It only lasts a second, before Shen Yuan seems to notice what he is doing, at which point he jumps back to reinstate the distance between them, rubs his hand against his pants, and clears his throat stiffly. "Ah, that's, sorry about that."

"This one did not mind."

"Right, of course, yeah, sorry about that." Shen Yuan clears his throat again. Luo Binghe allows the silence to stretch thick and heavy in the room. He can see Shen Yuan fidgeting a little, in the way that he always does when he's being made to sit in an emotionally vulnerable conversation.

Finally, when the silence is becoming almost painful, Luo Binghe takes one more deep breath and glances off to the side. "This one apologizes for bringing it up." He gets to his feet. As he stands from the couch, Shen Yuan's fingers twitch in his direction, as if to grab him and keep him from walking away. Good. It is still just as he thought it was. "Please allow this one to make dinner for Shen-ge, as a way to make up for any discomfort this one may have caused." That helps his husband relax, just a little, knowing that Luo Binghe is not about to leave the house entirely.

Luo Binghe makes his way to the kitchen. These past few weeks, he and Shen Yuan have created something of a routine. Usually, in their home world, his Shizun will work on creating lesson plans and evaluating field reports from the students back on Qing Jing Peak, while Luo Binghe cooks dinner, and then they will eat together. It is peaceful and quiet, for them to both go about their respective duties and then share their thoughts afterward. In this world, however, Shen Yuan does not seem to have any such duties or responsibilities, and so a new routine has developed. Instead of working quietly and in tandem, Shen Yuan will often perch on some chair or counter and make idle conversation with Luo Binghe while he prepares their meal. It is something about this world that Luo Binghe has grown to treasure with every part of his heart.

Tonight, they do not follow that routine. Luo Binghe sets to work on several of Shen Yuan's favorite dishes, modifying them in ways he has already tested to make sure they do not include any of the foods he is unable to digest but still have a taste that is up to Luo Binghe's standards. Some are complicated dishes. Even with much of the preparation completed ahead of time, it will take almost an hour for Luo Binghe's competent hands to bring together. Luo Binghe works in silence and Shen Yuan remains in the other room, presumably sitting still on the couch where Luo Binghe left him.

Luo Binghe is not worried. His husband is the sort of man who needs time to adjust his thoughts to new information, especially when they include details about other people's feelings. Especially when it involves things like attraction. He has not always understood this, and it contributed to many of the complications between them when he emerged from the Abyss, as well as many frustrated nights when they were first married. His husband does not understand what someone is feeling unless they state it to him as directly and clearly as possible, sometimes multiple times. And then, his husband does not know what to do with that information unless he is given time to process it.

Poor Shizun. Everything Luo Binghe has ever learned about him suggests that he has never encountered a person who treats him in this specific way, allowing him to go through most of his life in blind denial and oblivious ignorance. It makes Luo Binghe furious, at times, to think that no one in his Shizun's life before him had ever taken the time to learn how to form a genuine connection with him. At the same time, however, and much louder than all that fury, is the jealous possessive pleasure, at the fact that no one else on earth has ever known his husband the way that Luo Binghe knows him.

He finishes with his cooking, chicken mei fun, a sliced tofu salad and honey lotus root with sticky rice. And eclectic combination, perhaps, but one that he has learned Shen Yuan is always delighted to see.

"Shen-ge," he calls, quietly, to not startle his Shizun from where he has likely completely descended into his own mind. "Dinner is ready, if you would still like to share a meal with this one."

The soft patter of Shen Yuan's slippers against the floors of his apartment, as he quietly makes his way over from the sitting room. Just that sound alone is enough to make Luo Binghe's heart turn over in his chest again. He loves him he loves him he loves him.

"Jiang Ruobing, ah, you didn't need to go through all this trouble," Shen Yuan mutters, but he still sits down eagerly at the table to join Luo Binghe, so he doesn't pay the protests much mind at all. He has been hearing similar things from his Shizun for years, at this point.

"This one loves nothing more than to cook a meal for his Shen-ge that he might enjoy," Luo Binghe demurs. His husband clearly starts to respond, but is blocked by some silly thought or another, because he opens his mouth, stutters, closes it, clears his throat, and begins to eat instead. Luo Binghe is more than happy to join him.

The silence persists, because Luo Binghe is letting it persist. It is generally his job to break through the awkward tension his husband will sometimes create, lost in his own thoughts. Luo Binghe isn't going to distract him, though, this time. He wants his husband to be having these thoughts.

Sure enough, they make it through almost the entire meal, before Shen Yuan clears his throat again. Luo Binghe wastes no time in snapping to attention. This is, after all, still his Shizun. Also, his Shizun had always enjoyed what an attentive student Luo Binghe can be. He is not above taking advantage of all of his prior knowledge, in a situation like this.

"Jiang Ruobing," he starts, then clears his throat, tries again, "you said earlier that all that you had wanted was to kiss me, just once." That high flush is back in his Shizun's cheeks and Luo Binghe wants to bite them until they stay reddened like that for days to come. Yes, that is exactly what he said. Yes, this is what he thought his most beloved husband may have been thinking about, alone in the other room.

"I did say that, Shen-ge. But I would never want to make you uncomfortable and will be sure to never bring it up again."

"Well, ah, well hold on for just a second. I didn't tell you you needed to never talk about it again."

"Shen-ge did not, but this Jiang Ruobing values this friendship as it stands, and has no desire to bring strain to it by making Shen-ge uncomfortable."

"Hush," Shen Yuan snaps, just a little. Luo Binghe can feel his blood responding to that fond, embarrassed, chiding tone. "Let me say this. Cause, see, I was thinking that kissing really is just the same, whether you're kissing a girl or a guy, as long as the guy doesn't have a beard or mustache or things." Oh, this is a fantastic excuse. Truly, Luo Binghe will never tire of seeing the intricacies his husband's mind will go through to allow himself to want the things he already wants. "It's really just lips, at that point."

"I suppose that is true, Shen-ge."

"Right, exactly. So, you know, a guy kissing another guy doesn't necessarily mean that he's gay. Or that he's attracted to men, just that kissing feels good and it feels the same either way." This is one of the most ridiculous things that Luo Binghe has ever heard, as someone who has only ever wanted to kiss one person and has, in fact, only ever kissed that one person.

"I had never thought of it like that, Shen-ge." His husband's face becomes just slightly more red every time he calls him Shen-ge, and it is something Luo Binghe will never forget.

"Right, well, no one is willing to talk about things like this. It takes a lot of security in your masculinity, and stuff. So. I'm not surprised you've never heard about it before."

"As Shen-ge says."

"So!" And here, his Shizun shifts a little skittishly. Luo Binghe is a wolf at the table, watching as a rabbit slowly explains to him just why it would be perfectly okay to crawl into his mouth. He uses every piece of his self-control to keep the hungry smile of a predator off of his face and nod like the little white sheep his husband likes to say he is. "If that's the case, then, ha, I don't see why it would be a problem for me to let you kiss me, just the once."

The rabbit is setting one dainty paw right on the edge of the wolf's maw, smiling calmly and easily while it does so. Luo Binghe holds himself so, so incredibly still.

"Shen-ge does not have to force himself, if he does not want this."

"Well," his husband sputters, "It's not necessarily that I want to kiss another man, but I don't mind kissing in general-" his husband has never kissed anyone before and Luo Binghe knows this for a fact, "and if it’s something my friend wants, then I don't know why it has to be a big deal or anything."

"As long as Shen-ge is sure that he would not be making himself uncomfortable for this Jiang Ruobing's sake," Luo Binghe hedges.

"Haven't I just said so?" He clicks his tongue and Luo Binghe loves him so incredibly much he will have to invent new languages just to capture it all. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"Of course. Sorry, Shen-ge." Luo Binghe ducks his head. There is a silence that stretches and pulls like taffy, now. "So, then, if Shen-ge is willing, may this Jiang Ruobing kiss him?"

"Not yet!" Ah, so he needs time to adjust to this idea as well, now. Luo Binghe can wait. He can hold so still. "With our dinner only halfway eaten? Are you trying to have all of this food go to waste?" Only until the end of dinner? Oh, Luo Binghe can easily wait that long.

"Sorry, Shen-ge. Forgive this one for being over-eager." Both of them are blushing now, only one of them intentionally.

"Eat your food."

"Yes, Shen-ge."

They finish their meal. It is silent again. Shen Yuan fidgets more and more as they draw closer to the end. Luo Binghe is going to ruin him.

First, though, he carefully carries the dishes back into the kitchen and begins to wash them. His husband drifts quietly after him, clearly still caught up in his head. Luo Binghe holds the dripping bowls out and Shen Yuan takes them to dry silently.

And then the dishes are done. There are no more convenient excuses to delay the kiss. Shen Yuan has an anxious, frantic energy to him now, as if he is thinking the exact same thing.

"If Shen-ge would allow it, this one would like to kiss him now." Luo Binghe has dried off his hands. Shen Yuan is still standing near the counter, and Luo Binghe takes a large step toward him, so that his back is pressed against the marble just so he can maintain the space between them.

"Shouldn't we move to the living room or something? Wouldn't that make more sense?" He has nervous, fluttering hands, and his eyes are darting, but there is no trace of true fear in his husband's face, nor is there any sign that he might flee.

"This Jiang Ruobing would like to kiss Shen-ge here, but of course Shen-ge can choose where he would be most comfortable."

"Ah, well, then. Ha. Haven't I told you you don't have to address me so formally?"

"This Jiang Ruobing cannot help but wonder if Shen-ge is trying to change the subject." Luo Binghe tilts his head to the side in curiosity, smiles gently and with a little bit of fang, glances up through his eyelashes.

"Ha," another strained laugh, but his eyes are lingering on Luo Binghe's teeth again. "Of course not. You can, you know, go ahead and everything."

Luo Binghe takes that final step forward, closing the space until there is only a breath between their bodies. Shen Yuan leans back over the counter just a little, but not out of Luo Binghe's reach. He moves slowly, hand in clear sight, so that Shen Yuan has every warning and chance to pull away. When he doesn't, Luo Binghe traces his too-sharp nails along the thin skin at his husband's temple, hungrily watches the resulting shiver, threads his fingers into the shockingly short hair that his husband has in this world.

"Thanking Shen-ge," he murmurs, and then he uses that touch on Shen Yuan's face to pull him in until their lips make contact.

When Luo Binghe had his first kiss, he was desperate and overeager and terrified and willing to do anything in the world to keep his Shizun by his side. It had been messy and full of teeth and likely painful. Now, though, he has over a year of learning how to kiss this very man in a way that he enjoys. Shen Yuan, on the other hand, does not remember ever having been kissed at all.

Luo Binghe wants to make it good. He knows how to make it good.

The kiss is soft but not chaste. He holds Shen Yuan's face like a soap bubble, guiding him into a good angle and pressing into the warmth of it. There is a tiny mmph noise from Shen Yuan, as he adjusts to the feel of it. Luo Binghe holds it there, for a moment, to allow him to settle before he deepens the kiss.

It starts with a smile, because he can't hold all his joy at this moment inside himself, pulling his lips into a new shape and opening his mouth a little. And then, now that his mouth is already a little open, Luo Binghe refocuses, alternating between sucking gently against his Shizun's lips and little kitten licks against the seam of his mouth. Another noise, this one in a slightly hungrier tone, and Luo Binghe can't help the way his hand tightens in Shen Yuan's hair, the way his other hand latches onto the plushness of his hip.

Shen Yuan's hands are smaller and softer than his husband's usually are, and one of them comes to rest tentatively on Luo Binghe's chest, where the soft fabric of his shirt gapes low over his collarbones. There is still a dampness there, the faint smell of soap, because they are standing in the kitchen together and just finished washing the dishes and it is suddenly so much that Luo Binghe can feel the tears, real this time, gathering in his eyes and choking him.

This is his husband. This is the husband that Luo Binghe has been missing for months now, finally showing some of that affection back. He doesn't deserve this, not with all the ways he has failed in his promise to keep him safe, but Luo Binghe wants to be near him all the same. He is always skin-hungry and starved for love, always craving touch with an intensity he doesn't think will ever truly go away. And finally, finally, finally here is his husband, loving him again. Kissing him again. The kiss does not stay light, though it never loses its gentleness. Luo Binghe would chew off his own arm rather than hurt his Shizun again.

The accumulation of all those weeks is yawning up withing Luo Binghe, and Shen Yuan is soft and pliant under his touch, and Luo Binghe cannot help but dive in further. He kisses him, adjusts their angle, kisses him deeper. Shen Yuan has opened his mouth to welcome him, now, and Luo Binghe has never the type to refuse an invitation such as that. He delves into his husband's mouth, tastes the meal that he just worked so hard to make for him.

Shen Yuan moves his tongue as well, touching back so tentatively and artlessly, and it's almost enough to knock Luo Binghe's legs out from under him. He leans in further, closes the space between their bodies, until they are pressed together head to toe and breathing in only each other. Shen Yuan keeps making those quiet noises, and at some point he has raised his hand into the mass of Luo Binghe's hair to tangle in among the curls. It's so much. It can't fit inside of Luo Binghe's chest. His arm is around Shen Yuan's back, pulling him in closer, an embrace along with the kiss.

It carries on for just a moment longer, Luo Binghe doing everything in his power to merge their two bodies into one. He could have kept going for hours more, taking advantage of the invitation to kiss Shen Yuan “just once,” but his husband has not learned the skill of keeping his breath while engaging in such activities, and he pulls away with a wild gasp.

And then Luo Binghe is left to be struck over the head with what his husband looks like in this body, when he has just been freshly ravished. Shen Yuan blushes easily, and that carries over here. There are two spots of pink high on his cheeks and his lips are red as fresh blood. His eyes are dazed and unfocused even as they slowly blink open and look in Luo Binghe's general direction.

It is too much. It's all too much, and Luo Binghe can't help but pull him in closer, by the grip on his waist and his back, pull him into an embrace and hide his own face in the short hair, just to take a moment to remember this feeling.

"Ha," Shen Yuan gasps, still out of breath from the way his chest his heaving against Luo Binghe's. "Well. Ha. I hope that was, you know, everything you were hoping for."

"Shen-ge could never fail to live up to all of this one's hopes." Luo Binghe can't help himself from nuzzling into Shen Yuan's hair a bit, feeling too-big and animal in this moment. There are still tears wet on his face, and he hopes Shen Yuan didn't see them. He doesn't have the ability to explain why this mattered so much to him. He doesn't want to scare him away. "This one hopes he did not make Shen-ge uncomfortable, in return."

"Jiang Ruobing shouldn't fish for compliments. You surely know that you are a good kisser." And maybe Luo Binghe preens a bit at that. He wasn't a good kisser for his husband, not very long ago. He dedicated himself as a student to become better.

"This one is glad to hear that Shen-ge enjoyed it."

"Okay, you can't keep talking to me so formally when you just did...that." Shizun's words are slightly strained, but he is making no moves at all to distance himself from where he and Luo Binghe are still pressed together. "I officially am not allowing it. It'd be too weird."

"This one simply desires to show his respect and care for Shen-ge."

"Yeah, but don't you feel weird about it? You're making me feel like a creep. I'm not going to let you kiss me again, if you keep addressing me like that."

Luo Binghe knows that he has been compared to a dog many times before. Even so, he cannot help but perk up as though he has just heard his name called.

"You would be willing to kiss me again?"

Shen Yuan snickers a little, where his nose is somewhat mashed against Luo Binghe's collarbone. "So it was that easy, to make you stop?"

"You are trying to distract me, but I will not be moved from this topic."

"You still pick words that sound like you're in a historical novel."

"Begging your forgiveness, but there is only so much I can change at once."

Shen Yuan grins, and if there is one thing that Luo Binghe enjoys about this face of his husband's, it is just how freely it shows his emotions. A smile like this, toothy and joyful, is something that would only show in the delicate light of the early morning, from one pillow to the other, and only when Luo Binghe is very very lucky. In this world, there are no fans to hide behind and, it seems, less pressure to present as a peerless, calm immortal master.

He still looks kind of hazy and well-kissed, though, and is still resting comfortably in Luo Binghe's grip. Luo Binghe is running his calculations into just how far he can push his luck, here.

"With this change, would you perhaps like to continue?" Luo Binghe cocks his head to the side, relishes in the resulting gentle brush of fingers through his hair. What a good idea this was. Finally, the touch of his husband's hands again.

"I mean, I don't know if we need to jump right back into it and stuff." Shen Yuan is sputtering, but Luo Binghe allows him to continue rambling. That's usually the best way to get to a desirable outcome. "Of course, every red-blooded man would enjoy some kissing. That's completely natural. I suppose you haven't had much time to go out and pursue women, or, I guess, men, if that's what your preference is, with the way we've spent pretty much every day together. I can't blame you for being a little bit pent up after something like that."

Luo Binghe smiles blandly and does nothing to deny the assumption.

"And you're younger than me too. I know that I can even get, a hem, I mean, look, I could see why this would be something someone your age might be interested in. Just as long as you understand that I’m not interested in men. Like, I don't want to accidentally send you the wrong message or hurt your feelings or anything."

"Shen-ge would not hurt this one's feelings, no matter how he decides to proceed in this relationship." Shen Yuan raises an eyebrow, and Luo Binghe grins apologetically at the slip back into overly-formal language. He cannot help himself. He was raised alongside a teacher who beamed with joy every time he presented himself in the most proper and upstanding way possible. How could he speak in any other way now?

"As long as you understand, it's fine, then. It's really normal for people to be friends-with-benefits and things. Some friends just kiss each other sometimes and it doesn't mean anything more than two normal people allowing themselves to meet their needs."

"Just as you say."

"So, I guess, it wouldn't be so bad if we did something like this again." Shen Yuan's cheeks are a furious red, and he can't make eye contact, but this is all that Luo Binghe has been waiting to hear.

"Is Shen-ge saying that he is willing to continue, then?" Luo Binghe can feel the leer starting to stretch across his face and, for the first time in weeks, he does nothing to stop it. Shen Yuan's eyes dip again, to the fangs, and Luo Binghe is making a note of that. He has always worked hard to keep himself as human and fluffy and innocent as possible, around his husband. That is, after all, when he showed the most affection toward him. His husband likes a fluffy little white sheep, that cocks its head to ask questions and smiles guilelessly in joy. Of course, he has been kind to welcome Luo Binghe back into his life and his bed, even following all the changes that have overtaken him, but it has never been easy for Shen Qingqiu to hide his joy and endearment when Luo Binghe shows himself a certain way.

That is part of why Shen Yuan's interest in the more demonic parts of him has been so intriguing. Yes, Luo Binghe keeps them hidden to the point of plausible deniability, but there is only so much he can do. His canines are pointed, his nails are pointed, his ears are pointed. All less so than they could be, but unavoidably so.

The first time they had spent several hours together in this world, watching a drama, Shen Yuan had reached out a cautious hand almost to touch Luo Binghe's ears, before pulling back.

It's funny, it almost looks like you have elf ears. He had flushed in embarrassment, and it had been too cute for Luo Binghe to bother with the panic of what he might mean by a comment like that.

That, and then the focus on his teeth, the shiver at the touch of his claws. There is something about this version of his husband that is quite happy to see the more demonic and threatening parts of Luo Binghe. He would ask about it, if he thought this version of his husband would have the memories to answer or if the other version of his husband would have the face to have such a conversation. As it is, Luo Binghe suspects this might be one of the mysteries that comes with loving someone like his Shizun.

His Shizun's eyes drop now to the fangs on display, and Luo Binghe smiles just that little bit wider, lets his nails press the sharp tips in where they touch Shen Yuan's hip. His husband has a very showy swallow, in this body, all exaggerated Adam's apple. He doesn't say yes, but he jerks the tiniest little nod and rolls his eyes in a sort of get on with it manner, and Luo Binghe has known him long enough to know the ringing endorsement that stands for. He wastes no more time, swooping in close and taking his husband's lips with joyous enthusiasm, now that he is even more secure in his welcome.

It goes on like that for almost an hour. His Shizun is perfectly virginal in this body, seemingly surprised by every new sensation and eager to chase after any new thing that he has learned feels good. Luo Binghe is eager to comply with his wishes. He will always give his husband what he asks for, and here is no different at all. They stand there in the kitchen, Shen Yuan grabbing tight to the collar of Luo Binghe's shirt with one hand and the other tugging a little at his hair in a way his clever husband has already discovered Luo Binghe enjoys.

Luo Binghe, tired of the novel strain in his neck that comes from a husband who is suddenly so much shorter than him, had reached behind him to lift with one hand and place him up on the kitchen counter several minutes ago. Shen Yuan had released a preciously adorable yelp at that, and then had gone back to their kissing with deep huffing gasps and a wet mouth that made Luo Binghe quite sure of his welcome between his spread thighs.

Husband, husband, husband

This is as close as Luo Binghe can get, in this world. This is the bare minimum, and it should be enough. If this was all he was allowed to have, he should learn to be content with that. He has, however, always been a starving animal. When that is such a large part of your childhood, it never really leaves, and he spent so much of his childhood fighting with the feral dogs and children on the street for a scrap of food, a scrap of attention, a scrap of opportunity.

He is a desperate, starving thing, and he has never learned to be satisfied with what he is offered. If he loves someone, he wants all of them, all they can offer. If the person he loves loses their memory of him, he wants all of it back, with the new knowledge added, not some halfway compromise.

But he will take it. That's part of being a starving, desperate, feral thing too. You take whatever is offered to you. You take all of it and you still want more but you don't leave a single scrap of it behind.

His husband, in this form, seems to enjoy a little bit more manhandling than he is used to getting away with, and Luo Binghe is willing to take that too, take everything offered. Shen Yuan has more fat to him than his Shizun did in his previous body, and it makes for two glorious handfuls when Luo Binghe grabs him off the counter and starts to walk them over to the couch. Shen Yuan yelps, sure, and slaps a bit at his arm in indignation, but he gets a handful of Luo Binghe's bicep and leans right back into the kiss, so he isn't too concerned about this beyond his husband's tendency to always protest anything that makes him happy.

He wants to devour him. He must hold himself back. This Shen Yuan does not know the lengths to which his husband can go, and Luo Binghe will not destroy this, as he destroyed the first sexual encounter between himself and his husband in the first world. As he complicated many of the ones following that, as well. He will do better. He will be gentle. He will listen and be responsive.

It is appreciated, clearly. For all that Shen Yuan has protested his lack of attraction, there is no denying the whining moan that falls from his lips into the space between their mouths, when Luo Binghe lays him out on the couch in the living room and drapes himself over him. He has moved his hands from Luo Binghe's hair and collar, one hand now around Luo Binghe's neck and holding him so close that it would be impossible to pull away, were he not many times stronger than Shen Yuan. Holding him so close that it is still impossible to pull away, if only because his husband has made it quite clear where he wants him to be. The other hand is slowly sliding from Luo Binghe's bicep, to his pectorals, to his abdominal muscles. The appreciative drag of soft fingers along the ridges of muscle, particularly in areas where it is difficult to deny the masculine features Luo Binghe possesses, does much to destroy the last remnants of his husband's arguments.

He pulls Luo Binghe down onto him and then, when Luo Binghe thinks he can't feel any more self-satisfied, he feels the gentle brush of his husband's foot along the back of his leg. It's tentative at first, before it properly winds its way around and latches on. The leg that was wedged between the back of the couch and their bodies has found a much more comfortable position for itself, wrapped around the back of Luo Binghe's thigh and bringing their bodies even more flush together.

Luo Binghe is a desperate, starving, feral thing. He takes what is offered to him. He cannot help the luxurious roll of his hips against the place where his husband could not more clearly be interested in their activities.

It startles another high, whining moan out of Shen Yuan's mouth, and he flushes red immediately, pulls away to stare at the ceiling, slaps a hand over his mouth. There will need to be some damage control, then, before they are able to continue.

"Do you have a third fucking leg, what the fuck is that?" Shen Yuan's voice is high and flustered and Luo Binghe knows that he is particularly well-endowed, particularly because his husband wastes no opportunity to mention it and complain about it. He huffs a small laugh against the exposed line of Shen Yuan's neck and nibbles at the delicate tendons there.

"This one thinks Shen-ge knows what he is feeling."

"Bro what the fuck. You cannot think that you are putting that fucking monster cock anywhere near me." Luo Binghe cannot help the full-bodied laugh that breaks out of him at that. It shakes his body atop Shen Yuan's, sets him to squirming away from the breath on his neck, and that is one more delicious discovery: that this body is ticklish. Luo Binghe licks a long stripe over the same area, just to feel the tremble course through his husband's body one more time, as well as to receive a slap that goes to the area within Shen Yuan's reach. This just happens to be his upper thigh, right near the crease of Luo Binghe's ass, and this does absolutely nothing to cool his ardor.

Even so, there is some truth to this. Luo Binghe knows that he hurt his Shizun. It was, actually, quite frustrating to be so well-endowed, at the beginning of their relationship, before he had learned how to properly prepare his husband. Before his husband had learned to relax and trust him and tell him when it hurt. Even beyond that first time, it had taken months before it had been properly good for both of them, and they still make mistakes.

This body is smaller. This body had no spiritual veins of qi. This body is not accustomed to taking Luo Binghe and, most importantly, is certainly not relaxed or particularly trusting in this moment. It would not be a good idea, to try anything close to putting it in, right now. Which does complicate things, a bit, because that tends to be the only sexual position his husband is regularly open to, and Luo Binghe is significantly less practiced in other options, outside of a lifetime of vivid imagination and dream control.

[Reminder: User Luo Binghe may earn C-Points though sexual pleasure provided to User Shen Yuan. Important: Success criteria for this mission require that User Luo Binghe provide oral sex to User Shen Yuan. Good luck!]

The System winks helpfully in the corner of his vision. Luo Binghe closes out of it and returns to the more important things before him.

"This Jiang Ruobing would never think to do something like that without his Shen-ge's invitation," Luo Binghe licks another stripe up the jutting tendon along his husband's neck, following with his teeth and savoring the shivers that result from it. "Shen-ge made it very clear that this was only kissing, and only between friends." Luo Binghe rolls his hips again, feels his husband's erection against his hip, pointing out the obvious interest Shen Yuan seems to have in progressing further. "Although, this lowly one cannot help but think that, if kissing is the same whether it is between two men or a man and a woman, then that should be true for kissing anywhere, should it not?"

"Huh?" gasps out Shen Yuan, where he has clearly lost focus on the conversation in his effort to lean his head far enough back that Luo Binghe can leave a line of bright hickies along his neck, while simultaneously trying to squirm enough that it relieves some of the desperation in his cock, all while trying to pretend as though this is accidental and something that is happening to him, rather than something he is an active participant in. Truly, his husband is a multitalented individual.

"This one merely said-" his words cut out, because Shen Yuan's effort to focus seems to have reminded him that he has requested that Luo Binghe not communicate in this register, and he slaps another reprimanding blow against Luo Binghe's thigh, leading to his hips jerking helplessly forward and a shudder running through him, head to toe. "Of course, of course. I merely wished to confirm my understanding of the terms of our encounter." Another roll of the hips, with delicious slowness, and the unquestionably positive reception of his dear husband's body.

"Right, right."

"I am happy to stop, if it would make it easier for you to follow this conversation," Luo Binghe sniggers, and he feels the offended huff travel up his husband's throat before he is given the gift of hearing it.

"Don't think so highly of yourself. I can do both at once. This is merely a casual kiss between friends."

"Of course, of course, of course," Luo Binghe murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Shen Yuan's jaw in between each repetition. When he makes it to his chin, he bites it once, softly, before moving in to kiss him for another few minutes. "And a kiss does not necessarily need to be only on the lips?"

He can see the time it takes for his dearest beloved to refocus, remember the conversation they were having, and it is one of the greatest feelings in the world, to hold this man in his arms, bring him pleasure, drive him to distraction. "Right, it wouldn't really be different. Cause it's just lips and shit."

"Right." Luo Binghe cannot help his smile, the grinning pecks he smatters over Shen Yuan's face. "Just casual. Just lips. And it doesn't matter where."

"Right," Shen Yuan echoes, clearly more focused on finding a way to get Luo Binghe back to his lips properly. Luo Binghe smacks a few more pecks around the line of his brow before answering his husband's request, as he always has, as he always will, and pulling him back in for a toe-curling kiss, grabbing tight to his hip and pulling him in even closer, following the tightening grip of the leg around his thigh. He would crawl inside his Shizun's ribcage and live there, if he could. He would sew their skin together into some grotesque amalgamation of bodies, so that they would never not be touching again. He would swallow his Shizun whole, just to never not know where he is.

"So, then, if this one were to ask to kiss Shen Yuan elsewhere, he would not be opposed?"

"I just said, didn't I?" he snaps, cranky and beloved.

"Of course, of course, of course." Again, the kisses down the neck in between each repetition, but this time Luo Binghe does not stop at the neck, tugging Shen Yuan's shirt out of the way to latch his teeth onto his collarbone. Shen Yuan whimpers and squirms more aggressively, grabs at Luo Binghe's hair, but, notably, does not stop him. In fact, he seems to be holding him in place, to the point that Luo Binghe would be fighting against resistance, if he were to try to pull away. And, well, if this is his husband's request, then he is more than happy to grant it.

Luo Binghe contents himself with his husband's chest like the dog that he is, as though he has been handed a bone to gnaw on. There are marks all along where a gaudy necklace might sit and, after several minutes, he is even able to convince his husband to remove his shirt, exposing endless soft and plump skin for him to taste and nibble and suck.

His nipples are there and, based on his reactions to Luo Binghe going near them, would likely be quite sensitive. Luo Binghe knows better, though. This is a tentative balance, and his husband's hangups are the type to emerge suddenly and devastatingly, ending any encounter as they arise. The first time he attempted to taste his husband's nipples, it had led to a week-long conversation regarding whether that was something only women were meant to enjoy. Luo Binghe hadn't understood at the time, why it mattered whether or not this was something only women were meant to enjoy, as his husband clearly had enjoyed it, for the moment he allowed it to happen, and surely that was the deciding factor?

Luo Binghe does not want to stop this encounter for another week-long conversation. He does not want to have to wait another week to see his husband again, particularly when it seems as though they are headed in a direction that may result in his return today. So, even though it is clearly a lost opportunity, Luo Binghe steers clear of his husband's nipples, leaning down to teethe against the love handles that cause him to whimper and squirm.

"It would be okay, then, for this one to kiss you here?"

"Obviously, yes. Stop asking."

"This one merely wishes to be sure of his hu-, of his friend's comfort."

"It's just kissing."

"Right, of course." And Luo Binghe returns his focus to the task at hand, even as those words land with a strange pang against his heart. There is a trail of bristling hair leading from Shen Yuan's navel to the waistline of his pants. Luo Binghe buries his nose in it and takes several deep, huffing breaths, even as Shen Yuan laughs above him, apparently ticklish here as well. "And that would mean that Shen-ge would be comfortable, even if this Jiang Ruobing were to continue kissing lower? Even if he were to remove some of the barriers in his way?"

A part of Shen Yuan is clearly not at all opposed to this idea. The jut of his erection through the soft cotton of his pants is unmistakable, where it presses against the lower corner of Luo Binghe's jaw. There is a damp spot in the light grey fabric, where his excitement has already leaked through. Even so, there is a blatant pause in the stream of agonizedly pleased noises that have been emanating from his Shizun's mouth, so far above Luo Binghe's head already. His hands are still in Luo Binghe's hair, kneading and tugging, but every other muscle has frozen. Luo Binghe leans back, rising to sit back on his knees opposite Shen Yuan.

For a moment, he is allowed the glorious pleasure of surveying his disheveled husband where he is sprawled out, well-kissed and aroused, with his limbs all akimbo, before the thin face kicks in, and Shen Yuan sits to mirror Luo Binghe's position on the other side of the couch. His knee is cocked up beside him, though, in a clear attempt to disguise his erection. Luo Binghe makes no such effort himself, very aware that his cock is straining against the stiffer fabric of his own pants.

"You mean, ha," Shen Yuan clears his throat when it comes out all shot to gravel, tries again. "You mean, like-" he gestures toward his own crotch in what he clearly determines to be demonstrative enough without having to say the words. Ah, his beloved, thin-faced husband. If they were back in their world, he would make his dearest Shizun say the words out loud, tease him until he was red-faced and pouting and finally starting to say the things that he desires of his lover.

This is not his world. The man before him is his husband, yes, but his husband as if he had never met Luo Binghe in the first place. Never worked for a decade to figure out how they best interacted with each other, communicated with each other, built a life together.

And so he does not push his husband on this. Because he does not think his husband would be willing to take that leap of faith right now, trust that Luo Binghe would always be there to catch him, to meet his needs when he finally works up the nerve to ask for them. This is fine. This is what it will take for him to get his husband back.

Instead, Luo Binghe follows his husband's gesture down to where he is still trying to play off his obvious erection. He smiles salaciously and then, when that still seems to not properly convey the message, he licks his lips to make them wet and shiny, leaves his mouth just slightly open. "Shen-ge has made it clear that kissing is something that does not need to indicate sexual preference or attraction. It should stand to reason that, if kisses are kisses, then it does not matter where that is happening."

"Right, yes," Shen Yuan says, with a level of confidence that makes it quite clear he is faking it. "That is the perfectly logical extension of what we have already been doing."

"Then Shen-ge would not mind if this lowly one were to pleasure him with his mouth?" There it is, that lovely flush that the countenance of a peerless immortal would never allow, that starts at Shen Yuan's chest and travels in bright red splotches up until it covers his entire head. Luo Binghe can see now, with his shirt off, just how low that blush goes. What a shame, to be sitting in this position and unable to lick around the edges.

"You don't-, Ruobing, What are you-. What kind of man just volunteers for something like that?" That is not a no. That is so, so incredibly not a no, and Luo Binghe can work with that.

"This one has made it clear that he values Shen-ge above all others." No, that's not the approach to take. Not here, with this version of his husband. "That is, you said that friends will do things like this, casually, sometimes. I assumed that you would be comfortable with something like this too, but please tell me if that is not the case."

He has left the bait out. He does not know if his husband will take it. He has put it on the table, made it his own request, given him an easy out. All of this makes it easy for Shizun to say no if he wants but, more importantly, gives him the ability to say yes out of a desire to help Luo Binghe and not needing to bring his own desires anywhere near it. Were this something he wanted, like a home-cooked meal by Binghe's hand, then the trap would have already snapped closed.

This, on the other hand, is a little more unclear. His husband has never been open to this proposal before. There is something that prevents him from wanting to. If Luo Binghe had the impression that it was due to some unpleasant memory or deep fear, then he would have already killed the System for even suggesting it and also would have found and hunted down whoever it was who dared to make his Shizun afraid.

It seems to, for the most part, be a preference. More than that, it has all the markings of another one of his Shizun's sexual hangups, similar to his reaction to having Luo Binghe lick his nipples, or pick him up during sex, or refer to himself as a "wife." So, this is not a brick wall, rather a potentially permeable barrier. Luo Binghe will never again hurt his husband during sex, or push past his genuine boundaries, but he will ask about things, and he will proceed if his husband indicates that he is consenting.

"I mean," Shen Yuan scoffs, and Luo Binghe would do well to focus on this conversation rather than get lost in his own thoughts about a husband who is not here. This is what it will take to get his husband back so, as long as Shen Yuan is willing, this is what is going to happen. There is nothing else to it. "I mean, yes, that is exactly what I was saying."

"Unless, of course, this would make you uncomfortable. Or if you would not want to go that far."

"What is this?" Shen Yuan snaps, and it is looking more and more like this will be happening today. This is more than Luo Binghe ever thought he would accomplish, walking through that door this afternoon. "I might as well be asking if you are comfortable! Are you trying to imply that I wouldn't be experienced with things like this?" He is not experienced with things like this. He has told Luo Binghe this before. "If I tell you that this is something casual friends do, then this is something casual friends do."

"As Shen-ge says."

"Don't talk like that." There is a fraught pause, and Luo Binghe is about to try diving back in, as it were, when Shen Yuan clears his throat again in an uncomfortable way. "But, you know, I know I said it earlier and everything," another long pause, "but, you know, I mean. This is casual. Because I'm straight and everything. So, you know, if you are uncomfortable with this, we also don't have to do anything."

How sweet, of his husband, to try and look after his feelings like this. As if there would ever be a time when Luo Binghe would not want to have sex with him. He smiles with the kind of feral, desperate hunger that he hopes conveys everything he is holding back for the sake of his husband's thin face. "I am, of course, willing as long as Shen-ge is as well."

"Well." Shen Yuan coughs, looks to the side, holds his leg in a little tighter to his body, stares up at the ceiling. He's so inexperienced and cute. Luo Binghe is going to ruin him for anyone else, and then he's going to have his husband back, and he won't have to worry about anyone else anyway. "Well, then, you know. I guess we can get on with it, then."

And that is all that Luo Binghe's self-control can take, actually. With the invitation, he practically lunges back across the couch, into his Shizun's space, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. This is not what he thought it would be. This is not what he thought would happen when he arrived here today. This is not what he thought his husband would say, when he made the offer. This is not what he thought Shizun would say, when told of his husband's feelings.

It will be okay, of course. All he needs to do is pleasure his husband in this way. The way that he has fantasized about since he was nothing more than a young cultivator, sleeping in the woodshed, still overcome by what it looked like the first time he saw a genuine smile on his Shizun's face. The first time he saw him disrobed and tied up.

He kisses him, kisses him, kisses him. And Shen Yuan is still so clearly new to all of this. Has never kissed anyone before and especially not like this, not for this long, with this much intensity and anticipation. Luo Binghe is happy to show him, happy to help him discover what parts of this body are sensitive, happy to help him become more confident in his own actions and touches.

Luo Binghe kisses him, laughs for a moment into the space between their mouths, kisses his way back down again, nipping at chin, at neck, at collarbone. The flush is still there, and he takes his time dragging his tongue along the border, savoring it all the more for how long he had to look at it without being able to do this. His husband's stomach in this body is soft and plush, and Luo Binghe takes a playful bite of it as he passes. Shen Yuan yelps, the skin jumps away from Luo Binghe's teeth, and he is giggling. Ticklish. The wonders never cease. Luo Binghe breathes out against the skin, making a terrible raspberry noise, and Shen Yuan is laughing, laughing, slapping playfully at the top of his head, and this is so good. It's so good, and he seems so happy and comfortable with it, all things considered, and why haven't they done this together yet? What has been stopping his husband, that does not stop Shen Yuan?

No matter. No matter and no answer available at this point in time. Not until Luo Binghe proceeds with this until its natural conclusion.

He kisses further down Shen Yuan's stomach, stopping to laugh, stopping to give his husband time to thread his fingers into his hair. Shen Yuan is sputtering a little in discomfort, the way his husband does when he is unsure what to do with himself in a situation and is trying desperately to pretend as though that is not the case. That's okay. Luo Binghe doesn't know what he's doing either. He's never actually had the chance to do this before, beyond his extensive imaginings and the several not-at-all-shameful-and-actually-very-practical times he might have practiced with a daikon in his youth. Shen Yuan has done it once or twice to him, and that was certainly quite pleasurable, no matter what he did. So, there is no reason to be nervous about this. Surely no matter what he does, it will be good for his Shizun.

Luo Binghe has never been anything less than an unambiguous teacher's pet and try-hard, for as long as he has known his Shizun. No one would argue with that. Is it so strange, then, to want to excel here as well?

Still, there is no way to improve without doing, as he has already applied himself thoroughly to every bit of technical study he has available to him.

Luo Binghe slides off the couch and situates himself comfortably on his knees. It is already unbearably erotic, actually, to be in a position of such obvious subservience and worship. The heat that lances through Luo Binghe's stomach, just from this view, so close and still needing to look up, is a reassurance. The interest is undeniably there. The desire is staggering. All he must do now is be so incredibly careful to take his time, not allowing for his passion and excitement to override the comfort of his partner. It is the thing that ruined his technique for so long, in the beginning.

"Where, ah," his husband hesitates, "where do you want my hands?"

"Shen-ge can-" Shen Yuan tugs harshly against a lock of Luo Binghe's hair in warning, as soon as he hears the tone and term of address, and Luo Binghe cannot help the whimper that wrenches out from him. Kneeling like this, preparing to serve his husband, having him tug his hair and instruct him on just what to say, Luo Binghe is vibrating with how much he is enjoying it. There is something buzzing and shifting under his skin. "Apologies. You can hold my hair, or pull it if you want. You can do whatever you want to me and I would be happy to take it."

Shen Yuan seems almost struck across the face with those words, sitting back against the couch with eyes blown wide. He does not, notably, look the way he does when he is about to call everything off and run away. It's for this reason that, rather than jumping into apologies and explanation, Luo Binghe tilts his head to the side and smiles at him with sunny innocence.

"Don't. Don't say something like that."

"It is important to communicate about what feels good and what does not. Is there anything that Shen-ge - ah - that you would like from me as well?"

"I don't have, like, anything in particular. Just, you know, go ahead with it, I guess? If you're still good?" Shen Yuan squirms a little awkwardly, and Luo Binghe cannot help but lean forward and take another sharp bite of his side, just to hear the way he yelps and jumps away. See? It's fine. This is Shen Yuan, and this is Luo Binghe, and this is his husband, even if he doesn't know it right now, and this is going to be fine. This is how he gets his husband back. This is what needs to happen.

Luo Binghe slides his hands down from where they grabbed at Shen Yuan for the bite. He presses his nose into the inner close warmth of his thigh and snuffles there for a second, reveling in the fact that he gets to have this, even if it is nothing like what he would have thought it would be.

Shen Yuan is holding himself as still as possible, but after Luo Binghe has lingered there for a second, his hands drift down to his hair like gently falling leaves in the autumn. Luo Binghe wants to encourage this behavior, so he leans hard into the touch and revels in the firmer pressure that comes as a result. When Shizun has wrapped his fingers deep into the roots of Luo Binghe's hair, hasn't used the grip to push him away, Luo Binghe begins his work.

"Have dreamed about this for so long, so long Shizun," he gasps, and maybe it was a slip-up to use that name, but Shen Yuan seems suitably distracted by the movement of Luo Binghe's hands. Some of the trousers in this world are hellishly complicated and difficult to get in and out of. Luo Binghe has learned how to do and undo those fastenings because he has found that he is particularly eye-catching to Shen Yuan when he has a few more straps, buttons, belts, and the like. Thankfully, his ever-wise husband tends to wear softer pants that fasten closed with a simple tie, similar to the underrobes that Luo Binghe has been wearing his whole life. It is a simple matter to pull the threads loose and luxuriate in the strangled whimper that his husband makes in response.

These pants do not open at the front, conveniently, the way that so many other pants in this world do, which means that, once Luo Binghe has undone the drawstring, he must reach around to Shen Yuan's lower back, reach his hands into the waistband of the pants and the underclothes beneath them, and lift just enough to create space for him to pull it through and out. Shen Yuan tries to make a secret of his reaction, but there is no disguising the noise that he makes when Luo Binghe uses the strength of his biceps alone, while kneeling on the floor, to lift the entirety of Shen Yuan's body, merely through a firm grip on his ass. His hands tighten viciously in shock at the base of Luo Binghe's curls, where they meet the back of his neck, and it sends such a glorious shower of shimmering sparks down his spine that he cannot help but falter for a moment before continuing. Luo Binghe would be lying if he said that he didn't allow for that sound to go directly to his ego and feed it in a way that it has been lacking for these past few months.

And then, well, then there is very little stopping Luo Binghe from pulling Shen Yuan's pants down the rest of the way, loosening them from his ass and sliding them down his legs, allowing his cock to spring free, still very clearly and eagerly interested in all current proceedings. Luo Binghe, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that this is happening, that he is sitting here, about to pleasure his husband like this, about to get his husband back, has to take a moment to bury his face in the soft creamy skin of Shizun's exposed thigh. Just a moment, to get it all back together. To come to terms with the fact that this is how this will be happening for the first time, rather than with the person that he worked so hard to build up trust and intimacy with.

Just casual. Just a thing between friends. And that's fine, because that's how his husband had to justify everything that brought him pleasure, back when they were first figuring out their relationship together. It's the mask his husband still hides behind, at times, but always with the willingness for Luo Binghe to reach out and pluck it from his face.

There are, mortifyingly, tears gathering at the corners of Luo Binghe's eyes, and he'll be damned if the first time he tries to pleasure his husband this way begins with him crying all over his cock. He does not have time for this breakdown, because he is minutes away from solving this entire problem, anyway, and also because the one person that he would want to talk to about something like this is not available to him right now. There is nowhere to go but forward, and that is where Luo Binghe will be going. It is fine, that Shen Yuan says that this is simply a casual encounter between friends, because Luo Binghe knows better than to take his husband's words about things like this at face value. He gathers it all back inside, presses down the tears, commands his blood and body to take them away.

"Uh, Ruobing?" Shen Yuan seems to be kneading at his head again, rather than pulling the hair. "Is, uh, everything, like, okay? Down there?"

"Of course," he purrs, because this is what needs to happen, and he's happy to be here. This is what he has wanted for years. "Everything is perfectly fine, Shen-ge. This one was simply overcome by Shen-ge's beauty and required a moment to recover."

The flush grows deeper, spreads further, but Shen Yuan is still sitting on this couch, with his legs spread apart, completely unclothed, with Luo Binghe kneeling before him. There is no way for him to pretend as though he does not have a vested interest in these proceedings. No fan for him to hide behind in this world.

"Ha, well, okay."

And then, well, the soft fat that gathers in his inner thigh is right there, and Luo Binghe is already down here, and there's nothing against leaving a love bite, where no one will ever see it. Luo Binghe sets his teeth to worry against the delicate, pale skin and feels the way that Shen Yuan is already suddenly wound tight as a bowstring, bending over his head and pulling his hair even if it is without conscious thought. Luo Binghe purrs, somewhere deep in his throat, at the sensation and feels the trembling that shudders through Shen Yuan as a result.

He is so sweet, and so soft, in this body. And, most importantly, still his husband. The same as how Luo Binghe loved his Shizun in the mushroom body. The same as how he would love his husband, if some terrible accident were to occur and he were to lose his memory of Binghe forever. Of course, it is difficult to reach out for the well-established patterns of fondness and support that he has built over a decade with his Shizun and to instead be met with empty air. That is painful. But, most importantly, that does not mean that the soul that composes his Shizun is gone, and he must never forget to be thankful for that.

Even though his husband may not be in a position where he would be willing to marry him again, that does not mean that he would never reach a place like that. Surely, this alone is indication enough, the fact that he is currently allowing Luo Binghe here, between his legs.

Luo Binghe can feel the beautiful, glorious flush of his husband's soft skin between his teeth, the increasing warmth that comes with a rush of blood to the surface. He bites into it in the same way that he might bite into a fresh breast of chicken, when he had still been a starving child in the depths of the Endless Abyss. There is the same hunger here, the same animal instinct to burrow in with fangs and gnaw.

When he pulls away, there is a string of five bright red love bites lining the skin of each of Shen Yuan's inner thighs, and he has started to breathe with a sort of rasp on the end of each exhale, alternating between pulling tight at Luo Binghe's hair and smoothing his hands over where he must imagine there to be stinging pain.

And even if his husband does not remember him, at least there is this, the blatant mark of Luo Binghe's presence here. No one else would be able to see his husband like this without knowing that someone had been there first. Without knowing that, even if Shen Yuan does not remember it, there is someone who has laid a claim on him. The idea is so satisfying that he cannot help but run his tongue over them one more time, worry one of them between his teeth, pulling a high whine out of Shen Yuan's throat.

"It would seem that you are still comfortable, then, unless something has changed that this one is not aware of." Shen Yuan does not deign to respond to that with words, huffing in indignation and pushing uselessly at Luo Binghe's head. He lets it move him a little bit anyway, just enough for him to roll away and then roll back, pressing the teeth of his smile into the ravaged skin of Shen Yuan's thigh. "If that is the case, then this one would quite enjoy the opportunity to continue."

"Ah, yes, well. You, if you must."

"Thanking Shen-ge," he murmurs, and then there is nothing standing between himself and the main event. Shen Yuan's hands are still in his hair, right where Luo Binghe asked for them to be, and they move with him as he leans forward.

Shen Yuan's dick is a perfect size for the size of his body, perhaps a little bigger than one would expect, honestly, considering how small and compact the rest of him is. It strains red and wanting up toward his abdomen, canting toward the left slightly. Luo Binghe has a large mouth. He is able to open wide, and he had worked hard as a young disciple, with the aforementioned daikon, to learn how to swallow around something like this without choking and without needing to come up for air all the time.

He wraps one hand around the base of his husband's cock, confident in this motion from practice, though not with this body, and even that is enough. Shen Yuan lets out a long, wandering groan, and leans his head to flop against the back of the couch. His hands are loose in Binghe's curls, and what a wonder, to know that Shen Yuan is so responsive in this, so much more so than the body of Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe has a grip on it, and the tip is red and winking over the top of the wrap of his large hand, and there's really nothing more to do than to give it a welcoming little lick, just to get an idea of what this might taste like.

"Ha!" Shen Yuan shouts, in a sort of giggle-yell, and that's as good a sign as any to keep going. The taste is bitter and musky, but that was to be expected, and it is his husband, so of course Luo Binghe will be honored to take it into himself, no matter what the taste is. Besides, there is something about the huffing breath, the animal physicality of this, that has him trembling like a leaf. It's so much. It's so much to be here, right now, doing this, kneeling before his husband and letting him take his pleasure while Luo Binghe is nothing more than a servant to it.

The tug of hands in his hair is what grounds him, what holds him here, in this moment. It's an aching sting, a sharp counterpoint to all the wonderous thoughts in his head, and Luo Binghe is here. He's here, and he's holding Shen Yuan in his hand. He is here and he is pleasuring his husband, and there is nothing else that needs his attention right now.

The world narrows. The sounds of the room, of the city, grow quiet. There is only this moment, here, with Shen Yuan. Luo Binghe laves several wet kisses over the tip of his husband's cock before sucking it into his mouth like tanghulu, swirling his tongue across the top. Shen Yuan is groaning, whimpering, his voice travelling up and down the registers of several octaves. He's forgotten his strength, and there is nothing he could do to hurt Luo Binghe, but he has been pulling at the mass of Luo Binghe's black curls with what seems to be all of his might, pulling him in toward the crux of his thighs, ever tighter.

If that is not a welcome, then Luo Binghe does not know what else is.

He learned this much from watching his husband, actually, the few times that he tried to provide a similar service to Luo Binghe. Cocks are not easy to fit in one's mouth, without any kind of lubricant, and there is very little of that along the shaft, unless one is willing to be quite diligent with their spit and tongue.

Luo Binghe has always been a diligent student.

It is no different here. He kisses a teasing hello along the shaft of Shen Yuan's pillar, laves little kitten licks behind him, moving all the way down to nose at the hair curling around the base. He sucks one stone into his mouth, suckling at that too, rolling it behind his lips, and Shen Yuan has thrown his head back again, wrapped his hands around behind the back of Luo Binghe's head, as if to hold him in closer, bring him nearer to the center of his body.

Luo Binghe, more sure of his welcome than ever, moves to pay close attention to the other, and then kisses his way back up until he can press one peck to the winking tip of the head.

"Ruobing, Ruobing," Shen Yuan gasps, and Luo Binghe pretends it’s his name instead, his real name, and not some strange pretense he doesn't know how to break. It's fine. This is how he gets his husband back. This is what his husband is willing to offer him right now. He's still shaking. "Shitting fuuuuucking god-damn hell," Shen Yuan adds, very elegantly, as Luo Binghe decides he has been patient enough and fits the entirety of the head of his cock into his mouth. Another swirling lick of his tongue, because Shen Yuan had seemed to enjoy the pressure against the spongy tip, and the increase in pitch and volume indicates that this is still the case.

He slides down, the way slicked and somewhat tacky from his attentions earlier, but there is still a need to ease his way now, with careful application of lips and tongue. Luo Binghe is up to the job, as Shen Yuan's cock presses against the hard palate of his mouth, then further back, until it is brushing the back of his throat.

It has been several years since Luo Binghe has practiced something like this, but he was a motivated student, alone with his daikon, and he has control over his blood, his bodily functions. He will not choke at this.

And indeed, he does not.

“Ruobing, Ruobing," Shen Yuan is still gasping, rocking his head back and forth along the back of the couch cushion. Luo Binghe takes this as positive feedback, focuses in on the task, focuses on the warmth and lust in his husband's voice, and not the fact that it's still the wrong name. Not the fact that he can't stop shaking, just a little. "Fuck, ha, yeah, good boy." He sort of sighs out those last words, and there is no way for Luo Binghe to respond, with the fact that his mouth is somewhat occupied at this point in time.

And that, oh. Luo Binghe has known that he enjoys being praised in bed. He enjoys praise from his Shizun at any time of day, really, no matter the activity. He enjoys knowing that he is doing well, that his husband is pleased, that he continues to meet or exceed expectations. He has always enjoyed that.

Something about this, though, the way that his knees are aching against the hardwood floor, the way that he remains fully clothed while his Shizun is sprawled and flushed and indolent, the way that his own pleasure has been entirely neglected for that of his husband's. That, paired with the praise, knocks something a little bit loose in the connection between Luo Binghe's head and his body. Suddenly, it does not matter what his Shizun calls him, what the specifics of the situation are.

Luo Binghe is on his knees. He is working to pleasure his husband, and he is a good boy.

The tingling outside-himself feeling spreads like sparks from all his extremities into the very center of him, and Luo Binghe is nothing more than a vessel for his Shizun's pleasure. How could he ever desire to be anything but that?

He frees his hands from where they have been bracing the base of Shen Yuan's cock, reaches back to where Shen Yuan's hands are clasped at the back of his neck. Luo Binghe holds his hands over top of Shen Yuan's, unwilling to free his own mouth long enough to explain, and presses with his fingers until Shen Yuan has grasped on even tighter, until the strands of Luo Binghe's hair are held like a leash. Like a choke chain on a misbehaving and unpredictable dog.

He presses, hard, against that grip, using it to force his own head forward, and Shen Yuan swears again, under his breath, as the pressure makes his mouth bob on his dick. Luo Binghe hums at the deep satisfaction that wells up in him, just at the suggestion of this kind of guidance, and it triggers some kind of beautiful chain reaction. Shen Yuan's leg jerks up, spasms a little in shock at the feeling of Luo Binghe humming around him. It ends up thrown over Luo Binghe's shoulder, the knee right at the curve of his neck, another point of leverage. This staggered shift draws Luo Binghe closer again, and he cannot help but moan around Shen Yuan's cock, imagining what it is they must look like. The simple disciple, kneeling to pleasure his most beloved person, while that person pulls him forward, uses his mouth to take what he wants in the haze of his own pleasure.

That moan has Shen Yuan's hips jerking, reflex, and his hands pull tighter, and Luo Binghe feels as the head of his husband's cock, which had been pressed at the back of his mouth, shoves all the rest of the way in, past any resistance, until it is pressed into the back of his throat. Luo Binghe's nose is pressed tight to the scratchy curls of his Shizun's pubic hair, huffing deep breaths of the musk and sweat there, when he is able to snatch a bit of oxygen between thrusts.

"Wait, shit, Ruobing, pause a second."

Luo Binghe pauses, because he is a good boy, and he will always listen to his Shizun. Luo Binghe does not pull away, though, and simply allows his husband's pulsing erection to sit hard and throbbing against his tongue.

"We need to, fuck," a small, helpless thrust of his hips, back into the back of Luo Binghe's throat before pulling out to leak against his tongue. "We need to talk about, like, safe words, and shit. What if, ha, what if you need to stop, or something."

Luo Binghe still does not pull away. He has his husband warm and safe in his mouth, after years of wanting this, and there is no indication that he has stopped enjoying or wanting this, and so Luo Binghe is not going to pull away. He does, however, take the time to look up and make eye contact, which is enough for Shen Yuan's pupils to blow that much wider and to coax another swear out under his breath. When Luo Binghe is sure that he has Shen Yuan's attention, he reaches up to slowly gather a pinch of the soft flesh of his inner thigh between his fingers and twist. Shen Yuan yelps a little, in shock more than pain, and his cock twitches against Luo Binghe's tongue.

"Oh, yeah, okay, sure, I guess that works."

And that's all that Luo Binghe needs to hear. He lowers his hands back down, allows them to twist behind his back and out of the way. The haze that he had peeked out from under settles fully back over his mind, and he refocuses on the task at hand.

It is easy, now, to swallow around Shen Yuan's cock, bring it deep. He has practiced for this moment. He has spent his whole life preparing to be the perfect vessel for his husband's pleasure. And here, now, finally, he can do that. He can be the good boy that his husband wants him to be. He can kneel and service his husband however he sees fit to take from Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan had paused, drawn himself out of the fugue of it, but it is not hard to draw him back in. Luo Binghe is discovering the mechanics of this, the best way to maintain lubrication, the best way to maintain a rhythm as he pulls away on Shizun's pull back, maintains suction, swallows him back down and deep on the return, lets him bury himself as deep as he wants to go, move Luo Binghe's mouth wherever he sees fit, fuck into him until he is nothing more than a hole to be filled.

"Good, good, good, it's so good, Jiang Ruobing," Shen Yuan gasps, and that's enough. That's good. The taste of him is growing more bitter. His rhythm is turning jagged, and it is clear that he is close to his climax. This is good. This is what Luo Binghe is for. He can keep doing this. He is doing so good.

Shen Yuan's climax, when it arrives, seems to surprise him. There is no word of warning, not that Luo Binghe would ever do something ridiculous like pull away, in a moment like this. Instead, Shen Yuan seems to almost flinch forward, his hips pistoning to fuck into the back of Luo Binghe's throat one, two, three times, and then there is a pulse of tacky fluid, salty and bitter and barely tasted with how far back he is buried in Luo Binghe's throat. He releases one long, wandering ahhh that breaks in multiple places. Shen Yuan curls forward, wrapping his arms and legs and body all around where Luo Binghe's head is buried, until there is not a single part of him not held and squeezed.

Luo Binghe is good. He's a good boy. He did this, brought his Shizun pleasure with his mouth alone, and his own arousal is such a distant second to the buzzing peace that has come with this. He waits there, suckling, allowing his beloved to ride out the aftershocks of his orgasm across his tongue with little, shivering thrusts, until he has truly taken all that he might want from his Binghe.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be repeated three times! User Luo Binghe has completed quest This New World Sucks. Current C-Points: 1252. Memories will be restored to User Shen Yuan, Bound Role Shen Qingqiu at this time.]

Luo Binghe startles a little at the sudden appearance of the bright blue box before his eyes, when he had eliminated the automatic information it provides several weeks ago. He doesn't even take the time to read it, head as empty as it is right now, simply waving at the air to make it go away and be something he can deal with later.

This matters more, more than any ridiculous celebration the System seems to be trying to throw. Shen Yuan is pushing away a little bit, at Luo Binghe's head, and he pulls off with a sense of bereavement.

"Ha, well, yeah man, that was pretty fucking, uh, um, ha-" Shen Yuan's tone of casual dismissal fades out into some kind of disorganized confusion, before his voice fades out entirely. There is a moment of silence, just a single moment, where Binghe continues to kneel before him and wait for further guidance and instruction, before he hears that beloved voice again, this time with a sound of panicked shock. "Binghe?!?"

And, suddenly, the world is slamming back into Luo Binghe's full awareness, with all the color and sound and feeling returning to him in a rush.

"Shizun?" he asks cautiously, and his voice comes out rough and raspy, ruined from his previous activities. Doesn't matter, couldn't matter less, shizunshizunshizun.

"Binghe, what on earth is-" but he doesn't have time to finish the sentence, because Luo Binghe is scrambling up his body, off his knees, throwing himself at his husband, slamming their mouths together and breathing deep at the way that his Shizun, despite the confusion and disorientation, relaxes immediately into it, kissing back and reaching up to hold Luo Binghe back the way that he always has. There are tears streaming down his face, and he can feel them, can taste them, even, as they catch at the place where their lips join. There is a sob building in his throat, juddering against the parts of him that are rubbed raw by friction, and he would never regret something like that with his husband but it's different now, it's all different now because his husband is back he came back to him and Luo Binghe is going to rip open his chest and crawl inside his ribcage so he can never leave him ever again.

"Binghe," his husband tries to ask, but Luo Binghe is not done kissing him in welcome yet. He presses into the words, swallows them down, keeps kissing, and his husband accepts the intrusion, allows the indignity with nothing more than a quiet chuckle between their mouths, kisses him back again. It is his husband, back, because Shen Yuan had never responded to him like this. Like he was welcome and comfortable and eager to touch.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe murmurs, mouth still pressed against his husband's while he says it.

"Yes, husband?" The brightest point in the universe says.

"Shizun," he says again, still pressed against him, using both arms and all his strength to pull him even closer.

"Yes, husband?" The only one that matters laughs.

"Shizun," he can barely manage to get the word out, caught and wrapped up as it is with all the sobs that are ripping through him.

"Yes, husband," his most desperately beloved coaxes, pulling gently at Luo Binghe's hair, just so that he is far enough away to show his face and the tears that decorate it. Shen Qingqiu shushes him gently, thumbing the tears away with the same motions that have comforted Luo Binghe since he was nothing more than a young adolescent, learning what it was to want someone like this.

When Luo Binghe does not stop crying immediately, when it becomes clear to his Shizun that these are not the same as the tears that he will bring out at the drop of a hat, Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue in the warmest chastisement and pulls him back in. He tugs Luo Binghe down until his head is resting against his husband's breast and he has draped all of his larger body weight over top of him, on the couch again.

"This husband is assuming that his lord would not allow them to pass their time in such a way, if there were some pressing danger." Luo Binghe doesn't bother to respond, which his husband seems to take as a confirmation, because he hums to himself after a moment and taps his fingers in a gentle pattern against the nape of his neck. When Luo Binghe does nothing more than nuzzle in a little closer, Shen Qingqiu begins a gentle scratch with the tips of his fingers.

The press of his still-exposed skin is so lovely and soft and warm. Luo Binghe could live in this moment, right here and now, and never emerge again. He feels that way about almost any moment, when he is with his husband. And, thanking every good thing in the world, his husband simply holds him in silence for an uncountable length of time, stroking through his hair and scratching at his scalp while he waits for Luo Binghe to stop holding him quite so tightly, for the tears and weeping to stutter to a quiet halt. When that finally happens, he does not try to pull Luo Binghe back, but allows him to stay there, pressed close, while he starts the conversation.

"This one remembers, now, all that has happened in these past few weeks. It was disorientation from suddenly remembering everything that caused this one to be confused, for a moment." And that's a relief, because Luo Binghe would not know how to put any of this into words, if his Shizun did not remember. "I am going to assume, though, that there were many parts of the story I was missing, considering the fact that you and I are here at all."

"Shizun vanished," Luo Binghe grumbles, because that was the start of this all, and also is an accurate summary, in some ways, of the last two months completely. "What could this husband do but follow him to wherever he may have gone?"

"Yes, and what a lovely job my husband did, finding me in this world as well as every other." There is a soft kiss laid at the point of his forehead where his hairline begins, and more tears leak from the corners of his eyes at such a familiar touch. "But this one still wonders how it was either of us came to be in this world in the first place."

"Shizun vanished from his very bed, from within his husband's arms, in this lowly one's inner castle. When his husband awoke, he was frantic and searched day and night for his lost love. When even that proved fruitless, there was-" and here Luo Binghe pauses, starts to pick around his words carefully. The System has already made it quite clear what would happen if he were to reveal it, and he is unwilling to lose his chance at bringing his husband home safely, now that they are so close to regaining everything that was lost. "An entity appeared to this lord and offered him the opportunity to try and recover both his husband and his husband's memories."

"An entity?" His husband, for all that he appears to be a face-changer and all that he can be spoilt and lazy and a thousand other wonderful things, has never been a bad fit for the scholar's peak. Shen Qingqiu is relentlessly curious, especially in the face of an unfinished story or a mystery with missing pieces. His husband, when set before something nonsensical, is scathing in his critique and relentless in his pursuit of knowledge. It is one of the infinite things that Luo Binghe loves most about him, and he can see the spark of it enter Shen Qingqiu's eye now. "What entity has the power to travel between dimensions like this?"

"This lord would imagine it to be the same sort of entity that would allow his husband to travel between worlds previously. Unless this is not the case?" He pauses there and watches the inspiration light behind his husband's eyes.

"When I returned to this world-" and his husband pauses even here, seeming hesitant to confirm that much of Luo Binghe's theory. As if waiting for some kind of consequence to strike from above. When it does not, he exhales a shaky breath and continues, each word chosen with care and precision. "I did not make the choice to do so, unless this is the only memory that continues to elude my grasp. It sounds, though, as though this one's husband did not have a similar experience."

They sit in silence for a moment, and there is clearly something large hanging in the air between them. Luo Binghe has not seen his husband afraid in years, not since the times when he was still fleeing from Luo Binghe himself. Perhaps he was afraid at Maigu Ridge as well, but Luo Binghe's memories of that time are red-tinged and hazy. He has not seen his husband afraid in many years, and it sits differently on this version of his face, so it takes this long for Luo Binghe to realize that is indeed what he is seeing. Something here, something in the topic of conversation, is scaring his husband enough to be this hesitant. It makes Luo Binghe want to rip the world to shreds until that expression leaves his face.

"Would this...entity still have access to my husband, even in this world?" Careful, careful, his husband is being so careful right now. Luo Binghe is going to kill whatever made his husband look like this. As soon as he obtains all the information his husband is willing to bestow upon him.

Luo Binghe is hesitant to answer back, now, catching his husband's caution like a virus, and staggeringly aware of that earlier warning, that revealing the System would result in his immediate return to his universe, without his husband or his husband's memories. Has that changed since he completed his "mission"?

"This lowly one would assume that, should an Entity have the power to travel between realms, it may also have the power to observe the one that it sent, in this other world." He waits for the screen to appear again, flashing and red and too close to his face. When it does not, he finds himself more tense rather than less so. His husband's eyes are shrewd and focused on every minute twitch in his expression. Are they speaking of the same thing? Does his Shizun know of the System? It would presumably be so, given that it seems to frequently refer to Shen Yuan as a "user" and indicates extensive knowledge of both faces he has used.

"This teacher wonders, if he and his husband are speaking of the same entity, whether it may be safer to delay conversation until they are returned to their home." He can see the effort it takes, for Shizun to say something like this, rather than continuing to chase down the information and solve the mystery immediately. "Unless, of course, Binghe believes there to be some danger to following that plan, or has information this teacher does not."

"Shizun is wise," Luo Binghe murmurs, and Shizun scoffs, making a motion to hide behind a fan that he is not holding in this world. Luo Binghe takes advantage of the fact that his face is not covered, that this body of his blushes so much easier than the other, and leans in to steal another kiss from his lips.

And then his husband's body turns to stone beneath his hands. Luo Binghe feels himself snap to attention, watching for the threat. When the room around them remains still, his qi flares out to sense nothing, his blood mites find no sign of threat, he is able to relax smug in the knowledge that there is nothing more causing them danger than the rising blush on his husband's face.

"Binghe, where are my clothes?" If he thinks the sudden, stern tone he has taken on is going to discourage his husband, then the sudden predatory smile and the twitch of his cock against his hip will hopefully dissuade him of that notion quickly enough for Luo Binghe to take some liberties. "You ridiculous man, where did you put my shirt!" Shen Yuan's smaller body starts to wiggle beneath Luo Binghe's bulk, trying to look around and see where Luo Binghe ended up throwing the shirt (it went over the counter and into the kitchen. There's no way he'll be able to see it from here). Luo Binghe makes himself as heavy as possible and gives exactly no effort toward helping.

"This lowly one will be happy to help his husband find his clothes. Or, if his husband would prefer, this one could join his husband so that he will not feel uncomfortable." Shizun slaps a little at the bulk of Luo Binghe's bicep, a fond reprimand, and there is nothing Luo Binghe can do to disguise the way this, too, makes his erection twitch.

Shizun gives up after a few more squirms, flops his head back onto the couch and allows Luo Binghe to kiss a reverent trail down the tendon in his neck.

"This husband," he starts, and then stops himself, and this is when Luo Binghe knows it is important to listen. He continues with his soft pecks, drawing a necklace of them on his love. His husband is more wont to speak when there are no eyes on him, when he does not feel as though someone is waiting on him. "Before this husband regained his memories-" Another pause. Binghe presses a smile into the crook between his beloved's shoulder and neck and nuzzles in, blowing lightly over the places he has kissed. "That is, ah, it seems as though Binghe was very intent on engaging in certain...activities. That we have not done before."

"This Binghe loves any activity with his husband."

"Hush." A gentle rap on his head. "What I mean to say is, this one did not know his husband...desired such things. Before." His husband is naked and in a strange body in a strange world. His husband does not find conversation or vulnerability to be a simple thing. Luo Binghe sits back up, reaches down to the floor to hand Shen Qingqiu his underthings, makes his way to the kitchen to retrieve the shirt.

When Shizun sees what he is doing, he rolls his eyes in exasperation, a mannerism that Luo Binghe has only come to see and understand in this world, but he quickly takes the articles of clothing and dons them, seeming much more settled once he has done so. Luo Binghe's own arousal is flagging. While he has always been the type to easily return to that place, it is clear that this is not the moment for such things. When Luo Binghe returns to the couch, he leans against the opposite side and opens his arms. Shen Qingqiu puts up a nominal fight and resistance, but is soon laying atop Binghe instead, with his husband's arms wrapped around him and his face hidden from view, nestled in at Luo Binghe's neck. He can still feel the hot flush of embarrassment against his skin. This form is so much more prone to blushing. So much smaller. He could wrap him up and hold him with one arm, Binghe thinks. What a precious thing, to hold every single thing that matters within his arms.

"This Binghe hopes that his husband knows that he desires any and every thing his husband is willing to give to him." The flush grows hotter, but no sound of resistance comes. "While it is true, that he has desired such things as that before, his husband did not seem to share such desires."

"Well," sputters Shen Yuan, "this husband has always thought that Binghe would prefer to be the one, ah, in charge, as it were." He is hiding his face, not looking, barely able to get the words out. The obvious difficulty his husband is having is the only reason that Luo Binghe does not react in a more extreme manner.

"This husband often wonders where it is that Shizun finds such ideas." He does not pressure Shen Yuan to show his face, but nuzzles his nose in among the short hair that he can reach. "This husband loves nothing more than to take care of his most beloved person, in whatever way that person may want. If my Shizun would enjoy being looked after in such a way, how could this one do anything but thank him for the opportunity?"

Silence reigns for minutes after, and Luo Binghe resigns himself to the conversation stopping there. It was already far outside his husband's usual comfort zone. And then, into the silence, he hears his husband speaking with even more care than when he was trying to avoid the wrath of some great being that may be listening in.

"In that book. That book, Proud Immortal Demon Way."

"Ah. Yes, husband spoke of this book at length."

"Hush. In that book. The Luo Binghe of that world. He never. He was always the one in charge. When he was. Yeah." That is all of the information that Shizun seems willing to provide at this time, but it is more than enough for Luo Binghe to begin putting the pieces together. This other version of him, with 3,000 wives and no idea of what it is he is missing. Yes, he does sound like the kind of man who would be unwilling to serve another. There is no room for pity or empathy, not when Luo Binghe is almost certain that he has met this other version of himself. And did not like what he found.

"It seems that this other version of me may have influenced my husband in many ways, over the years." He cannot bring himself to make the statement into a question. There are things, ideas, suspicions that have been growing in the back of his mind since that first day, when Shen Yuan was so eager to recount the plot of that horrible novel. Ideas about the Endless Abyss. About his husband's fear of him. About the way he ran. The way he always seemed to know what things to avoid doing. There are things in this world that, when Luo Binghe comes across them, they send him back to the abyss or the years before his kind Shizun arrived. He has issued edicts in the demon realm to avoid having to come across such things.

He has never once had to tell Shizun to avoid things that make the same sort of sharp cracking noise that a whip makes against soft flesh. He has never had to ask his husband to make a sound when he approaches from behind, so as to not catch Luo Binghe off guard. He is starting to suspect that this is not only because their hearts sing the same song, but perhaps because his husband knew of these parts of him long before they even came to be.

"This husband also could not help but notice that Shen Yuan seemed to very much enjoy learning more about the adventures of this other version of me." He cannot help the teasing tone, and can feel the subsequent burrowing of his husband closer into his neck. This is safer. He can tease, here, about this. While his husband may be embarrassed about his previous interest, this is not the same kind of ripped-open vulnerability that they have been engaging in. "From the decoration in this place, this one may assume that Shen Yuan had quite the appreciation indeed, particularly for this one's physical form."

"He was an interesting character!" Shen Yuan wails. "He had potential! Just because I was interested in him as a character, it does not mean I was attracted to him!"

"Is my husband saying but he is not attracted to this Binghe?" Luo Binghe allows his voice to tremble, a tear to rise to his eyes. "And here I thought I had finally come across the proof that my husband appreciates me in the same way I do him."

And then, well, there's a little bit of a terrible thought. Because Luo Binghe looks almost the same as that other version. Except for the parts where that other version is more willing to wear his demonic traits proudly. Except for the parts where he smiles with blood spattered across his face and bloodlust in his eyes. Except for all the parts where he doesn't look like this Luo Binghe at all.

He doesn't say a word, and yet, Shizun still seems somehow able to tell, when it has shifted from light-hearted teasing to yet another one of his husband's insecurities.

"I only liked him as a character. I was never attracted to him or anything." Shizun mumbles the word into Luo Binghe's chest. He's clearly trying to help, but it's not having the effect that he might think. That's the tone of voice that his husband uses when he is claiming to not be attracted to someone he is attracted to. Luo Binghe has dedicated much of his life to being able to identify this particular tone. He cannot bring himself to agree, and the silence where his acquiescence would usually fall is glaring. "You can't be jealous of an alternate reality version of yourself. That doesn't make any sense."

"I think Shizun will find that this one can."

"You've already met that version of you. I have too. And. Well. I chose you, didn't I?"

It would be mere scraps in some relationships, perhaps. But Luo Binghe doesn't care about any of those other relationships. He knows his husband. He knows what incredible vulnerability it took for him to say something like that. Luo Binghe cuddles him closer and presses three quick smacking kisses to the top of his head.

"Shizun likes this version of me better?"

"Who's fishing for compliments now?"

"Even so, if he could say it just this once."

"This is the version of you that your husband married, is it not? I have met that other version as well."

There is a balloon of warmth growing in Luo Binghe's rib cage. This joy, this love that he worried he might never get to feel again in quite this way. He loves his husband with every single piece of himself. He’d tear himself apart to find new pieces to offer, if he thought that his husband would accept them.

"If that's the case, then perhaps husband will not assume that this version of his disciple wants the same things as that other, terrible version."

"Perhaps," Shen Qingqiu pauses, clears his throat, tries to start again. "Perhaps this husband could work harder to ask what it is his own husband would want. Making assumptions based on that terrible book has never seemed to work."

"Husband can always ask for the things he wants as well. This one will always listen to what it is his husband has to say."

"Ah, my face may be too thin for that."

"Did husband not just say that so many of these problems come from assumptions? If this lowly one were to assume based only on behavior and reactions, he might assume that husband also enjoys when the roles are reversed in such a way."

Shen Yuan slaps gently at Luo Binghe's bicep, but does not protest with actual words. Binghe cannot help the sharp smile that grows across his face at that. From his husband, that is a ringing endorsement. He will be sure to listen closely and learn well.

"This husband also cannot help but notice that, if Shizun likes this version best, he must like this one quite a lot. It is hard to imagine a house decorated like this to be the lesser version of his regard."

"Binghe," Shizun hisses, seemingly becoming overwhelmed to his limit with Luo Binghe's shameless words, to the point that there is nothing left for him to do but bite at Luo Binghe's chest in reprimand. This does not deter Luo Binghe. This may, in fact, cause a terribly indecent moan to rip its way out of his chest and linger in the air between them. Shen Yuan pulls away from where his face is hidden, staring down at Luo Binghe in shock. Luo Binghe does not feel any sort of shame for the way that he desires his husband, and the smug smile he shows in return makes that abundantly clear. He has been trying to find ways to convince his husband to be a little rough with him since long before the day they were married.

They stare at each other, like that, for a long moment, Shen Yuan's eyes dipping down to catch where Luo Binghe's fangs peek through, just as they always have since they met in these bodies. Luo Binghe is going to have a conversation with his husband about that too, when he has the chance. Slowly, the heat of the lust and embarrassment in their gaze fades, until they are left smiling softly at each other, and his husband, so small in this body, nestles back in out of care rather than an effort to hide.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe calls, only to experience the bone-shaking joy of hearing his husband call him back, "Binghe."

"Is there anything else that Shizun wishes to do in this world, before he returns home? Or, rather, does Shizun wish to return home at all, or would he prefer to stay in this strange world instead?" Luo Binghe's arms tighten around his husband with that question, and he forces himself to loosen them again. It does not work to trap his husband. He has tried that. He must simply hold him when he can and trust that he will not run away.

There is a long pause while his husband thinks. Luo Binghe allows it. He holds down the tears that threaten. It does not mean that his husband is reconsidering their life together. This is likely difficult for him, if this is the world that he is originally from. If this is a place he left without the time to properly plan for a goodbye. Perhaps he will want one now. That is not a bad thing.

"I think-" another pause, briefer this time. "I think that the only thing I might want would be to see my family again. But, well, I don't know if they still think I'm alive or if they already know about my, ah, passing." This time, Luo Binghe does nothing to stop himself from tightening his grip. His husband is speaking of his own death as if that should be something understood and accepted by the both of them. He has done this before, in their world, when referring to his past self-destruction, but this lends some clarity as to why that might have been such an easy topic for him, if that was also the prerequisite for his ability to change his face. Perhaps that is part of why it has always been so much easier for him to talk about.

"This husband is here, Binghe." A soft pat against his bicep. A soft kiss to the hollow above one of his collarbones. The gentle ways that his husband provides comfort. Luo Binghe tucks them away inside his heart and tries to bring himself back to the conversation.

"This one is here, as well."

"Good." Another soft kiss. "I would like to see my siblings, I think, before I leave. But I don't think that we can talk to them. That wouldn't be fair, if they have already grieved me."

"Shizun can do whatever it is that he wants. The others can manage it on their own." Luo Binghe grumps, because he is still having trouble hearing all of this talk about the death of his most beloved person, and also because he truly lives his life by that belief. It's just that he doesn't always say it out loud.

"They are your family too, you know." There is a shyness in the way that his husband says this, as if he is hesitant to say such a thing. As if he has not just laid a paralyzing blow to Luo Binghe's chest. "We're married, so they are your family as well."

Luo Binghe has not had family in so long. The only person he considers family passed away decades ago, and he only had her in his life for a few years at that. Of course, he has met his biological father much more recently, but he has never particularly counted as an actual father or family member. His family is his Shizun. Luo Binghe had always...assumed that his Shizun was without family, just the same as he is.

And, well, in a way, he certainly is. It seems that his husband has family, multiple family members, but if they are living in this world and he has lived in Luo Binghe's world for the past decade, then his family is, in a way, just as dead as Luo Binghe's has been. To suddenly be struck with this idea: that Luo Binghe has family-in-law, is something he had never known to prepare for, and suddenly Luo Binghe is aching with the desire to see them as well, even if only from a distance.

And so they do.

Luo Binghe helps his husband get fully dressed again, allows his husband to help him do the same. They put themselves back into order, covering each other in light kisses as they go, pausing at the end for Luo Binghe to hold him close and savor being near a husband that remembers him again. And then, well, it is a simple matter to find each of their family members. Shen Yuan shows Luo Binghe how their family is, apparently, quite well known and, if one has the desire to do so, one can use the clever Internet to find updates on where each member of the family is at most points in time.

They go to see Shen Yuan's da-ge first, finding the restaurant where he is meeting business associates for lunch and watching him through the wide windows while he conducts his business. He entertains many other people who carry themselves with the familiar body language of power. He seems like the kind of warm and firm individual who easily charms others into thinking it was their idea to do the things he wants. Luo Binghe can see similar hand gestures here, things he had always seen as unique to his husband alone, but here it is again, mirrored over onto a completely different man, because they are family. Because they learned them in the same childhood home.

After that, they go to find his er-ge, who is apparently a professor in this world. The room in which he conducts his lesson is large and many-tiered, and they are able to slip into the back row of seats without catching the notice of anyone else in the room. Luo Binghe is able to marvel, here, as well, over the similarities. He has watched his Shizun teach with the riveted eyes of obsessive first love, and so he is easily able to note the ways that they explain things, the use of metaphor and quiet checks for understanding. They teach in much the same way, because they are family. Because they learned how to teach from the same parents.

The final visit is to Shizun's meimei, and that is a different sort of visit altogether. It seems as though she spends much of her time making videos, similar to the ones that Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe have spent their time watching together in the past two months. Shizun explains that this is not like the other things they have watched, that the video they are watching is a vision of what his meimei is doing at this exact moment, and that other people are watching as well, and able to comment in the words on the side of the video.

I am so very honored to meet you. You remind me of someone whom I love very much. It is my dearest wish that you live a fulfilling and loving life. Luo Binghe types, in what Shen Yuan has explained is a way to talk, with her seeing him in the disguise of an anonymous "guest" rather than the person that he is. When she sees the message, Shen Yuan's meimei, Luo Binghe's meimei, holds her hand to her chest and smiles warmly and kindly out of the screen, and it is the same warm and loving smile that his Shizun bestows upon the disciples that he cannot help but love.

I miss you. I will always miss you. I hope you are well. His Shizun types, in disguise as the very same "guest," and her smile goes a little funny but no less warm. It is the same, because she is family. Because she may have learned how to smile from watching her brother.

And then, when that is complete, his Shizun stands in the center of his apartment, tears in his eyes, and steps close into Luo Binghe's arms.

Luo Binghe holds him close, so so so close. The System, when he calls for it, comes easily.

[Would User Luo Binghe like to return to his original world at this time?]

The System will be returning both this Lord and his husband, correct?

[That is correct! User Luo Binghe has completed the bonus chapter mission In Another Life and can now return to his original universe, accompanied by User Shen Yuan, Bound Role Shen Qingqiu.]

[Would User Luo Binghe like to return to his original world at this time?]

Luo Binghe holds his husband close in his arms. He reads the messages over again, one more time, to make sure there is no way that this will result in his leaving without his Shizun.

Mentally, he tells the System yes.

And then the world around them shatters into glowing blue squares. Luo Binghe holds tightly to the most precious person in his grasp, as the rest of the world spins around them, tearing itself to pieces and rebuilding from the ground up.

When the world stabilizes, and it's possible to see again, Luo Binghe is standing on the forest floor, just below where he was flying when he accepted the mission.

In his arms is his husband, back in the body of Shen Qingqiu. Tears are still wet on his face. When Luo Binghe makes a noise of inquiry, he looks up, loops his arms around Luo Binghe's neck, and kisses him full on the mouth. It's more initiative than he usually takes, and Luo Binghe cannot help the sigh of contentment that leaves him as he wraps his arms around his husband's waist, pulls him that much closer.

They will figure the rest of it out. Luo Binghe still wants to find out exactly how much of what happened was different due to the influence of Shen Yuan and what sort of things were things that his husband may have wanted all along but never said, with such a thin face. He still wants to know more about this family that now belongs to both of them, that both of them have lost. He wants to know how often they cross his husband's mind, what it would take for them to find a way to visit again, in a way that would cause more good than harm. He still wants to know all the things that his husband knew about him from that terrible novel, and where it was wrong, and where it led him astray. He wants to understand why his husband seemed to so easily accept the existence of an omniscient being that was providing quests and monitoring Luo Binghe's words. He wants to know if the suspicion he has been nursing since then is true and, if so, how that has played a role in their lives these past years.

There is so much he wants to know. And they will talk about it. They have time.

For now, though, Luo Binghe simply wraps his arms closer around his husband, holds him that much tighter, and lets the rest of the world pass by. They will figure it out, when it's time, together.

[guroperv]

hi there! :] i'm lilith, but most just call me lil or lily.

i'm 25, nonbinary and use any pronouns. i'm autistic, aspd, and the head of a system. only 2 or 3 alters use this blog to post (please feel free to ask questions about them if you are curious). 1 of them has his own blog

i am probably on your dni. i empathise with various serial killers and shooters. i post a lot of gore (including animal death) and nsfw, and am into some very fucked up shit (necrophilia, hybristophilia, mechanophilia, noncon, tortureporn, highly detailed guro, kidnapping to name a few). if that isn't what you like, then just block and move on. or feel free to leave a pathetic hate anon for me to laugh at. <3

i do have homicidal thoughts, and i will vent about them on here. this does not mean i will act on them, im simply just an unstable girl thing unable to seek the treatment i need so i cope by spilling my thoughts to random strangers on the web.

i do have a serial killer/cannibalistic alter. no i do not let him front frequently (but if he does he is one of those whom posts on the blog), esp if i am dealing with said homicidal ideation.

my alters are mostly "their own people" so to speak, some are fictive, others simply identify with fictional characters. @reapershi for example, is his own person, but heavily identifies with death the kid from soul eater so often uses his depiction to represent himself. i do have a stein alter, yes he's a fucking lunatic, yes he sometimes posts on the blog as well if i myself am not doing well. he is not harmful, however. lastly, i have a wolf boy alter, who heavily identifies with razor from genshin. he is the last alter who i allow to sometimes post on my blog. he's also his own person, but has the mentality of a feral child. he will usually only reblog photos of wolves when he is active. again, it is not common for these alters to be fronting, it does not happen all the time, only if im severely struggling with something. i have various other alters who have no interest in using tumblr too, but usually it's me at the front. just putting this here as clarification that i am not constantly switching like most did fakers tend to do. these alters are very real, i struggle very much with past trauma and my sense of identity, and i also wish the quirky "trend" of did would stop.

i do not tolerate racism, homophobia, nazism or bigotry. i do not condone these actions from any killers i may reblog or post about.

i do, however, condone the idea of natural selection. :]

likes (things i may reblog/post about frequently);; soul eater (stein my beloved), tcc (mainly serial killers (esp jeff <3), though sometimes i may reblog things about shooters), surrealism, psychology, cats, bunnies, nature, gothic style, halloween, music, gore, guro, nsfw topics, computers & older electronics

please feel free to send me dms or asks. i'm not great at talking, but i'll try to reciprocate regardless. :]

[i-live-in-spite]

Summary: You get a case in your hometown, you haven’t been back for almost 10 years after you left when you were 18 to join the FBI academy. Your brother was not very happy to see your transition.

Pairing: Around season 5 Spencer Reid x Trans Male reader(He/They)

Genre: Angst w/ Comfort

Tw/Cw: Family argument/dysfunctional families, transphobia/homophobia, kinda “gory” with some details, talk of s3lf h@rm, platonic pairing but they are pinning for the other, normal violence of Criminal Minds, the Unsub targets queer people, religious talk/trauma, talk of ending one's life, use of the t slur(If I missed something please tell me)

Word Count: 2.7k

I knew that if I had just asked Hotch or Rossi to stay back or for time away from the case, they would have told me yes. After all, I’m  pretty much just a stand-in for Garcia on the ground. Just there in case she got overworked or she was busy on one search I could quickly pick up the task. But the BAU taking me on the field was still pretty rare, I know why I’m here even if all I can think about is leaving again.

I didn’t know even after 10 years of healing, the wounds could still be so fresh. The feeling of blood rushed down my arms as we passed by the stores from my childhood. Some buildings I couldn't recognize but hardly anything changed from the old small town I grew up in. 

I’m snapped from my thoughts when I feel Spencer’s hands on my shoulder, “I’m sorry could you repeat the question sir?” I snapped my eyes up to Rossi who was in the passenger seat as Derek drove.

“I was just asking if you knew of any hidden in the wall clubs who may..enjoy the same sex may go?” Rossi sounded as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing, which I could understand. I have always been open about my gender identity and how I have had male lovers, I really didn’t see why it had to be hidden. At least not to them, no the team was like family. Emily and Penelope aren’t as loud about it but they also didn’t hide it.

“Uh yea, if I remember correctly there is this, old salt cave that many would go to for..activities. Whether it’s still operational is another question, I would have to be able to get down there.” Rossi nods and I look away from Spencer’s gaze and the subtle look from Derek in the mirror.

When we got to the police station I hesitated opening the car door, a few quick memories flashing through my eyes. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going to the back to grab my computer bag, I feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder, the other one gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I would typically find comfort in his light touches but my anxiety was running high, all I could do was curl up from his hands.

“I know something is wrong, is it because of the murders? Or the fact that this is a ‘special’ place to you?” I couldn’t stop a choked laugh from escaping and Spencer was quick to recover, “Maybe special didn’t quite express the right emotions. You are tied to this place, and you don’t like it. Why didn’t you ask to stay back?” His voice was soft, full of concern. 

“You don’t ask to stay back when we have cases in your hometown.” I look up, my voice having more of an edge than I would like. He sighs and grabs his bag before turning back to me, a serious expression taking over his normal goofy smile.

“Yes but I had an ok childhood. It’s one thing to be an outcast because I’m smart, you were an outcast because-” Hotch calls us over cutting Spencer off, “I’m just saying, we have different memories of childhood, you had more hate than you let on.” I never heard Spencer being tied to emotions in this way. He knew my past and I knew his, we held each other's scars close, refusing to let the past repeat. 

Spencer walks over to Hotch but I highly doubt that this conversation was over. I follow closely behind, keeping my head down. The station had the same bleach smell, my nose burned from the smell. Then the world seemed to crash when I heard his voice.

“Welcome in agents, we have a small meeting room y’all can use in the back.” The sound of my brother's voice made all my muscles freeze. Hotch shakes his hand, thanking him for the space and they start to talk a little more about the case. I go to the back and set up in a corner away from the door, this is gonna be the longest case in my life. 

As I continue my setup, I hear his whistle. “That’s some mighty fine computers you got there, but I was told y’all had a tech analyst back at Quantico.” I refused to look up from my keyboard as I continued to fidget with my settings to appear busy. 

It was Derek who finally spoke up, “Well we do, but the lovely little lady doesn’t always enjoy coming on the field and sometimes her work load is a little too much. So we bring him in and he helps on the ground.” My brother lets out a choked noise and even though he tried to whisper it was clear as day.

“That’s a boy? I mean i’ve seen my fair share of boys with long hair but that’s..damn near to the floor.” Derek sighs and expresses again I was in fact a boy, keeping out the fact I was trans. Which fills me with gratitude. “Damn well.. Okay. Nice to be working with you las.” 

His hand appeared in my face and I was slow to grab it. I felt his gaze on my freshly painted nails, it was just a simple black and white look. But I could feel the judgement of his gaze.

“Did you know that a handshake spreads more germs, it would be safer to kiss.” Spencer’s distraction makes me laugh, of course he had no idea that we were actually siblings or the fact my brother would rather live in hell than kiss another boy.

“And who are you?” I was thankful for the attention to be off of me, though I’m very much aware of the attitude that hides behind my brother's voice.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer waved a little uncomfortable. My brother looks him up and down before nodding.

“Well. Thank you for coming to look at the problem.” Spencer and Derek nod as my brother leaves and I finally let out the air in my lungs. Derek turns to me and sees the look of discomfort not fully leave my face.

“I typically try to keep the past the past, but the history between you and the sheriff?” I shift a little before looking down at the computer.

“Can't you see the family resemblance?” The boys are physically taken aback by this information. I smile awkwardly and get back to the set up of my computer. Neither of my fellow males spoke up after the statement, for once I’ve made the great Spencer Reid silent.

—-

“I need you to go to the cave, you are trusted there correct?” Hotch looks down at me as I gently play with my hands, a nervous habit I picked up from Spencer.

“I’m sure the older ones may remember me, I won't know for sure till I get down there though.” Hotch nods and scratches under his chin some.

“Would you be comfortable going alone or would you like someone to go with you?” I think for a minute, I would refuse to ask anyone from the local p.d. to join, but Emily or Spencer could be candidates. But Spencer is still getting over getting shot that him joining me is a hard no from me, even though he claims he was good to go. 

“Emily would be a good fit to join me.” Hotch nods and leaves to tell Emily about joining me. I didn’t hear the door open till my brother spoke.

“You look different now, since when did you turn into a boy?” My brother's voice was a little callous, the same tone he used when I told my family I planned on leaving.

“I have always been a boy, you and the others just refused to see it.” He scoffs and looks around to no one particularly, I still refused to turn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry miss ‘used to love dresses’, it’s kinda hard to think you were a ‘boy’ when you always dressed all pretty like.” 

“Because how I dress doesn’t define who I am,” I couldn’t stop my southern twang from coming through, something I fought to hide for a while. “, I’m very much aware that when I dress feminine people may see me as a girl. But also growin up here, if I dress like how I wanted to I would be shot on site. I’m not an idiot.”

My brother crosses his arms and I feel him staring me down. “So what, you put on a pair of pants and suddenly you were a boy? Is that really how easy it is? To erase the life mom gave you? To destroy the bridge you and dad had?”

“I would have died Evan!” I turn to him, rage clear on my face, “I would have killed myself. My only hope was my friends. Friends you belittled. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?” My brother laughs and his face hardens.

“And you do? Do they become the killers you chase down?”

“No Evan. They kill themselves, they do drugs, they hide every part of them because they can’t live any other way. I didn’t kill the little girl I was, I saved the little boy you tried to snuff out like a fire. I protected myself because the same people who were supposed to do it were the ones cutting me deeper than any of my blades do.” I took a step to him, the fire was clear behind his eyes. “Aren’t you proud? I changed my name. You can tell everyone I died in action. You have no connection to the man I am today. I may have to use extra means to make myself who I am but I am more of a man than you'll ever be.” 

Before he could say anything Emily walks in and tells me she’s ready. I grab my coat and walk out without another word being said.

—-

The next couple of days went on with my brother ignoring me, if he had anything to say he went to Hotch or Derek. Not that I really cared, but I knew the team could tell the tension between my brother and I was getting very heavy.

Spencer walks up to me with an iced coffee, he looked a little unsure of himself. “I remember one time you told me you preferred iced coffee, I went down to the local cafe and got you one.” I thank him softly and take a sip. “Are you okay with working on the case? I mean with your brother and openly gay people being targeted..”

“I’m okay Dr. Reid, I’m a tough cookie you know this.” He nods, tapping his hand on his arm.

“I’m aware of that but after the case I got shot, you were worried about me, I could hardly go pee without you commenting about how I needed my crutches.” His smile was genuine, I knew he truly loved that I cared enough to keep him up with doctor orders.

“It’s not my fault a certain FBI genius liked to test his limits, someone had to care for him.” I smile and he shuffles steps a little closer.

“And this genius wants to make sure you're not chewing off more than you can handle. You’re just as important to this team as Garcia or Morgan or me.” There was a hidden message behind his words, that I was important to him.

“The best thing I can do is work and stay away from my brother where I can. I’ll be okay pretty boy, I’ll be good. You won't even have to handcuff me.” Spencer’s face bloomed into a nice rose pink colour, he was always so easy to fluster. It was another thing that made him one of the cutest people I have ever met. Can stare at dismembered bodies, but can’t handle a compliment fully.

“I’m here for you, we all are. Don’t go somewhere you don’t think iIcan join. I’ll find you, and I'll bring you back.” His hands slowly grab my face, his eyes searching mine. But before we could do anything the door swung open.

“Garcia thinks we found our unsub.” Spencer nods and grabs his vest before turning back to me as Derek leaves.

“I mean it, I’ll follow you into any river, any ocean, any fires you think you have to handle alone.” And like that he was gone. I stayed by the phone waiting for any information that this person actually was our unsub. 

It wasn’t long before Emily was pushing the guy through the station spouting bullshit, saying the kids deserved it. I look at him, he looks back at me. 

“You some little tranny aren’t you. You cried over their deaths? They were gonna do it anyway, why not speed up the progress?” I just stare at him. I knew him, but I knew everyone here.

“Sir, all you’re doing is incriminating yourself. The gender of my agents are none of your concern. He doesn’t have to kill to make himself feel good.” Hotch pushes him forward, him having my back makes me tear up. “He’s not weak. He doesn’t push others around to make himself known. He is a man.” Hotch was pushing the UNSUB every time he would call me a he. 

Spencer shows up beside me, “We found a hair in his truck bed. It’s being analysed right now.” I nodded, his hand finding its way to the nape of my neck. “Hotch is correct, you aren’t..what he said. You’re strong and you’re the male you always knew you would be. You’re so strong being able to fight your way out of a town like this, with a family who did everything it could to keep you down.” All I could do was nod, I didn’t trust my voice.

By the night Hotch had everything he needed to prove this man did it, I started to pack up my stuff. “I will never understand you. Why did you tear it all down?”

I turn to Evan, annoyance clear on my face. “I tore down broken walls, I tore away the paint that hid the beautiful tile underneath. I am who I was always meant to be.” My brother started to talk but I cut him off, “I will never be your sister again, either accept it or stay out of my life.”

“You weren’t meant to be a boy though. You were born a girl, why can’t you understand?”

I take a step closer to him, “Your mind is one of the smartest things in the world, it’s not always connected to your body. Nerves can be damaged, emotions can be out of place. We live in a world where your next door neighbour murdered innocent kids because their brain didn’t match the way their body was. I bet deep down you wished we never caught him.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It started being your fault after I left how you continued to fill your brain with the idea that who I am was a choice, that the fact I like guys as a guy was something I just woke up and picked. When in reality it was you who drove me away.”

“You’re unnatural.” His fist was balled up and I knew we would never see eye to eye, not in this lifetime.

“Goodbye. Enjoy the wife, but I hope your kids never have to live in the fear I did.” I grab my bags and walk out the station. I fit my bags snuggle in their place as Emily turns to me.

“You know, the family isn’t just blood. The saying ‘blood runs thicker than water’ isn’t always true.” She offers me a small I’m sorry type of smile.

“Actually one of the earliest sayings of the quote was ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’, meaning your brother doesn’t have to be the brother you accept. We will always love you.” Spencer has a goofy smile, his knowledge of everything makes me feel better.

“And I will always love you.” Spencer can’t hold my eyes sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. Derek ruffled my hair and we started the long hours home.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/753405110589259776/note-spoilers-on-this-ask-for-anyone-who-hasnt

I’m this anon, and using your anon box to reply to a bad take in the reblogs of it lol.

1. aO3 treats the show and book series as separate fandoms for Bridgerton. My friend’s genderbend fic though is based on the books — thought I made that clear here. And yes book fans were being genuinely homophobic in her comments, not just her interpreting them not shipping it as “homophobia.” It was full of “get out of OUR tag” and claiming just writing a female character in a male version or shipping her male love interest with a guy was “misogyny,” exactly as I said. It’s a huge problem in the fandom. The main Reddit sub is so full of homophobia that queer fans had to spin out a separate inclusive sub called r/bridgertonlgbt. I’ve heard of people on TikTok being called “bourgeois degenerate” and “groomer” just for questioning why it’s supposedly such a dramatic and horrible change to make Michael into Michaela in the show.

2. Can we finally fucking retire the really tired, knee jerk “book is always better” attitude that has never been universally true anyway lol. The books Bridgerton are based on are pretty middling het histrom that repeat plots so much between them that that’s one of the big changes the show has had to make — just not have seasons 1 and 2 follow the same plot beats like books 1 and 2 did. The show has had to make a lot of changes just because it has a bigger audience than your average het histrom reader and while I haven’t loved every shift, it is overall better for it. Or just like, focusing on more than just each season’s main couple like the books only do — also better! The subplots are some of the most fun parts of that show, but also, it makes sense that people are going to continue to want to follow their favs from season to season and not just zero in on each couple. Yes I’ve read all the books. They simply are just not that great, TV is a different medium than books anyway and so certain changes are necessary, and frankly most of the loudest parts of the “book fandom” online who complain about the changes are people who read the books because of the show anyway. They’re all wildly inconsistent in what they consider acceptable changes: they’re largely on board with making the universally white books more racially diverse, but not adding queerness and gender diversity. Why is one ok but not another? Especially when a lot of them are ok with sad or bittersweet queer stories in subplots like Brimsley’s but not happy stories for main characters. Why is that, I wonder? A lot of people are pretending to be “book snobs” as a mask for bigotry, or just have bad taste, but regardless I think we need to get over the idea that stalwart defense of some mediocre and overly tropey romance novels is more elevated or intellectual and like the show isn’t an improvement in being less lazy about the cliches of that genre than the original author. (Seriously, I read a lot of romance novels, so this is not a knock on the genre as a whole or its readers — but the Bridgerton books are SO lazy and SO repetitive. Honestly I think a lot of the book defenders need to read more histrom themselves. Then maybe they’d see how weak and lazy those books can be compared to what else is out there.)

Fandom please learn basic things about how adaptation between different mediums works 2k24 also stop assuming that consuming a story in text form over another is an inherently intellectual activity

--

A pretentious friend of mine who loves Shonda Rhimes was going on at me a while ago about how she ~always reads the book first~ and then waiting for applause as if that's unusual!

She then tried to launch into how shocked she was by the books being... well, lowbrow trash, but she had some complex and boring way of explaining this.

I was like "Honey, you do know what a regency romance novel is, right? Right?!"

I mean, there are adaptations that are nearly exactly like the middle tier of romance novels. They're movie length and they air on Lifetime. This was a change not only of medium but of overall target audience and vibe.

[verdemoun]

Do any of the gang members find out that they have any disorders/mental illnesses/etc. once they get timewarped and if so what are their reactions? Ranging from “oh, I though that was normal” to “NUH UH!”

timewarp was founded on the gang realising they have ptsd and kieran's autism being more obvious and worse in timewarp. but in detail

kieran is autistic

sean might have adhd but he doesn't actually have hyperactivity as a symptom. plot twist he just has that erratic trauma avoiding energy. it is a lot more masking severe c-ptsd and imposter syndrome that is his behind his exaggerated happy personality. see reform school lore

arthur is one of the few diagnosed he definitely had an acquired brain injury which while a physical injury manifests with mostly neurological symptoms. sometimes he gets confused or irritated for seemingly no reason, and this has been a thing since long before timewarp. the gang move on from joking about how dumb he is he does have an intellectual disability as part of his ABI. his response was very "oh I thought that was normal" and "bah i ain't need help".

the gang have subconsciously been aware of this long before they had the medical knowledge to understand it and are all pretty used to quickly explaining things or reminding arthur of stuff he forgets. lowkey consider this canon ever notice how the gang talk to arthur sometimes not entirely condescending but explaining things on his level eg sean being the one to point out the grays will definitely recognise him and he should hide in the wagon, grimshaw almost playfully reminding a grown man to wash because he straight up forgets, gentle reminders of what they're doing through heists even beyond game mechanics a lot of heist cut scenes are super repetitive like charles very much breaking down we're blowing a hole in the bank. take the spool and connect it to the detonator. the detonator is over there. it just feels like they know arthur isn't always entirely there and are v supportive. arthur is so curious and asks so many questions and the gang just roll with it and answer most of the time it feels so kind and positive.

arthur also definitely has adhd. hyper-fixates on new interesting thing for a month and then completely forgets everything he ever learned about it

almost the entire gang acknowledge they have ptsd/c-ptsd and varying levels of trauma as a response their lives/childhoods/relationships with parents/being a VDL. acknowledging it doesn't mean they do anything to move towards recovery because they are still mostly men raised with 19th century values who hang shit on each other for flinching at loud noises or being 'is someone shooting at us' alert

lenny and isaac as the most aware begging their friends/family to take their mental health seriously and are constantly met with 'lmao no' 'that's?? normal?? what do you mean' and 'NUH'. lenny cries 'please this is re-traumatising you are actively upsetting yourselves' while the gang go 'boo grow a pair' despite experiencing varying levels of anxiety attack in response to triggers.

john will only bring up 'hey stop making wolf jokes about me it is Actually a Trigger' to stop the gang bullying him. very genuine trigger and phobia of wolves and wolf-like dogs but still doesn't take it seriously himself

bill has recognized anger management issues and is in therapy. alcoholism is a definite concern. he's also just got a lot of internalised homophobia and complex feelings about the gang and his own childhood to unpack and learn how to articulate and express his feelings in a healthier way. only one of the adult gang who is actively trying to improve his mental health through therapy go king

the d in dsm-5 stands for dutch and he is thriving in in-patient care. not even the doctors know entirely what to diagnose him because he seems to have symptoms of everything but is responding best to medications traditionally used to support bi-polar

special acknowledgement to karen who is very very depressed but is a thriving with anti-depressants because trying to get the gang to go to actual psychologists and therapy is Hell. her and sean send each zoloft memes constantly

[star-neo-love]

☆RULES☆

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MOST IMPORTANTLY:

homophobia, transphobia, racism, or any other type of discrimination and xenophobia will NOT be tolerated

hate speech or any other sort of derogatory or purposefully offensive behaviour is also completely UNWELCOME here

swearing and suggestive stuff (e.g. sex jokes, thirsting, or whatever) is perfectly fine (I do that all the time), but if you make me uncomfortable and refuse to stop after being told to, I will block and possibly report you

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other:

requests are currently closed. you can send in requests, that's perfectly fine, but I won't be writing them yet

when I do open my requests, I have the right to refuse to write any requests that I either can't do, or make me uncomfortable. I will reply to you and give a reason, so if I haven't said anything, I'm probably just getting around to it, please be patient

I am a busy person and have important studying and shit to do, so if you harass me in my inbox, it's not going to make me reply any faster. if you harass me, I will report you and block you

I will try my best to be active, but if I am not, that is no excuse to attack me. I have a life, which means I have actual things I NEED to do

please do not make any nasty comments, or send me unsolicited hateful shit, I WILL block you

I'm just a high schooler writing fics for fun, so if you don't like it, don't read. constructive feedback is fine, but don't criticise my work, I do it as a hobby

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that's basically it, so just don't be a shitty person, and I hope you'll all enjoy your experience on my blog!!!

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[peskellence]

Rule Of Nines

Retribution

Explicit content, Graphic Violence

(18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: AU, Multi-Chapter, Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, Crime and Violence, Oral, Anal, Dom/ Sub, Toxic Relationships

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Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos-as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? (Human Mob!AU)

Warnings: Major Character Death (before events of the story), Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Dubious Consent

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future projects, please let me know♡

The basement door creaked open, rusted hinges groaning under the weight as the rotten wood swung back. Nines slipped through the gap, calmly surveying his surroundings. Motion-activated bulbs flickered, the yellow fluorescents humming incessantly—catching slightly before promptly extinguishing, unable to light.

The room was dark, making it impossible to see what was shrouded within the oppressive walls. It was an area the family rarely frequented, save for general storage, with no one enjoying spending any significant time there. It served no purpose outside that—just a cold, dead space.

Of course, it had adopted a more sinister use in the last 24 hours.

Finally, a charge of electricity succeeded in its pursuit. With another groaning whirr, illumination flooded the mercury tubes. A whine of protest came from below, coming from the bundled mass of flesh curled against the concrete. 

A cord of rope bound Gavin's wrists, with a matched coil wrapping his ankles. A rag was shoved haphazardly into his mouth, muffling the bulk of his voice.

This foresight proved invaluable, as the man had spent the hours preceding his unconsciousness screaming through the walls.

Cries that had been less defined by suffering, more than they were angry—vengeful. He had thrashed around like a caged animal, stumbling against walls and crates as he attempted to evade the repeated blows being struck against his body.

They came relentlessly. Dull thuds of merciless impact, never once stopping or slowing—like the incessant drip of a leaky tap. Nines had not seen much, although it was hard to escape the noise. Instead, he had tucked himself away on the floors above, diverting his focus to more pressing matters.

The urgent call to action demanded by an increasingly dire scenario. Devising a plan of attack—determining movements, coordinating forces, and ensuring nothing would go wrong. 

Because nothing could go wrong. 

If it did, Nines stood to lose everything. 

"Did you sleep well?"

Gavin's response was delayed. He blinked through the sudden onslaught of light, lids flickering in line with the unsteady glow. Having spent so much time in darkness, his bleary eyes took time to adjust. When they finally did, they focused on Nines—glaring from beneath his furrowed brow. Flickers of amber mingled with searing hatred as he attempted to form a snarl around the gag.

Nines moved forward, ripping it from his mouth, despairing at the mass of saliva that had wadded its end into a ball. The captive gasped to fill his lungs, a reflexive response after having his breathing constricted for so long. His nose was broken—damaged cartilage crushed against his face, nostrils crusted with blood.

Once the breathing had stabilised, he rasped out his reply, voice rough and defiant:

"Go fuck yourself."

Nines huffed before casting the rag aside, allowing it to flop onto the red-speckled canvas surrounding them. 

"I suppose you've never been a morning person," he hummed distantly. "I am sorry it had to come to this, but you really did leave me no choice. I intend on bringing my brother home. I won't have you, nor anyone else, stand in the way."

He awaited the riposte, the kind of superfluous resistance that always came when Gavin was challenged. Anticipated the warmth dripping down his cheek as he realised the futility of using his bound limbs and resorted to spitting instead.

But it didn't happen. Instead, he did something worse. Something he knew would damage Nines more than any other form of protest.

He jutted his chin, attempting to flick the mass of hair clumped on his temple, before flopping his body to one side. Shivering, he tucked his knees to his chest and turned away completely—refusing to look at the other man, presenting instead the procession of welts that littered his back. Raised and raw, discoloured by bruising. 

All manner of physical and verbal resistance could be tolerated—was expected—but Nines refused to be ignored. It was an offence that could not be forgiven, demanding swift repercussions.

He was willing to extend a warning first. Clasping Gavin's shoulder with measured firmness before smoothly pulling back. His battered body rolled compliantly, too weak to resist the momentum. 

"I am in charge now," Nines reminded, capturing his chin between his thumb and forefinger before forcing his head upward. "The sooner you prove willing to accept that, the sooner this unpleasant arrangement can become more tolerable."

He flitted his thumb possessively against the canvas of stubble, reducing the pressure of his grip. His captive showed no gratitude for this as his eyes remained fixed on the corner of the room. Boring holes into vacant storage containers, refusing to meet his gaze.

The show of mercy did not last long. Nines' hold tightened again—remaining fingers enclosing his face—digging into spongy flesh which yielded obediently to the force. He demanded Gavin's mind to follow. Appealing to any sense of reason that might permeate his haze of rage.

"Is your pride truly worth suffering like this?" 

Pressing tightly against his jaw, the smaller man winced in pain—but refused to cooperate, much to Nines' growing frustration. 

"You can come with us; I am willing to allow that. To let you assist in the operation. It isn't too late to redeem yourself, to prove that you can do the right thing."

This suggestion finally elicited a response, breaking through the stonewalled stubbornness. Gavin laughed bitterly, barking in the face of his generosity.

"What do you know about doing the 'right thing'?" he accused, casting him a sidelong glower. "If you wanna act all high and mighty? Start preaching fake fucking virtue? Then save it for the choir of traitors waiting around to lick your taint. I'd rather die than listen."

Nines rolled his eyes at the dramatics. The man had always been like this—unapologetically crude and obstinate, even when it created endless problems for him.

It was a surprise that his mouth hadn't landed him in deeper trouble over the years, although it could be rationalised by the fact he'd always had protection. This had undoubtedly given rise to his excessive confidence: a sense of unearned entitlement and superiority.

Something that should have been challenged sooner and a wrong Nines sought to correct. Robbing the man of his safeguards, he aimed to shake the foundations of security with long-overdue repercussions.

He leaned in, pulling Gavin closer until their faces were inches apart. Smothering him with heady puffs, tracing the wounded slits of his lips with his thumb. He drew at the malleable flesh, moving with intrusive touches from which the other man reeled.

But Nines was stronger. He hooked a digit between his lips, pulling them down, forcing his mouth open. He brought his own close, breathing laboriously into the wet cavern. Not to claim it—but to establish he could . A demonstration of how easy it would be, how powerless Gavin would be to stop it.

"I can't understand why you are making this difficult." His words were delivered in a way he knew the man found irresistible. Syllables stretched into long draws. A decadent richness undercut by a not disproportionate amount of menace. "You've never had an issue answering to me in the bedroom. Is this really so different?"

Because if Gavin knew what was good for him, he would concede to temptation. Listen to the undercutting demand, following its instructions.

In contrast, he snarled , growing increasingly defiant. He lunged with what little strength he could muster, attempting to sever the digits pawing him. Snapping at them with sharply bared teeth.

Having exhausted patience with the clumsy flitting between cold snubs and flaring temper, Nines made good on his warning. He drew back his available hand, balling it into a fist before wiping the sneer from his captor's face. 

Knuckles embedded mangled cartilage as shattered bone crunched and squelched. Gavin howled as his head flopped back, dangling limply. Dizzied by impact, he gawked at the ceiling—sights unfocused, slipping loose from any grip on reality. 

His shoulders slumped as his body attempted to slip laxly to the ground. Nines prevented this. Holding firm, refusing to let go.

"Just think for a moment," he seethed, shaking the increasingly limp weight, urging a response. "This entire situation could have been avoided if you had simply listened to reason. Don't make any more rash decisions."

"... S-Screw —" The words were aborted, gargled in rubied pools rapidly filling his mouth. The strike had reopened a split on his lip, consequences of insolence dribbling in rivulets down his chin. 

The droplets glinted like gems in pale casts of light, and Nines felt like a king. 

It was a level of control he had never experienced, a power that couldn't be rivalled. His only regret was the delayed ascension of his throne. He drank in the sight of his former master, swilling liberally from the gratification of his crumpled form. Reasoned factions began to desert him as he became lost to intoxication. 

"Come on, baby ." The term of endearment was hissed like a slur, mingled with venom pooled on his tongue. "This isn't worth us fighting over. You're smart enough to know that, right?"  

Nines' trademark deadpan had adopted a more abrasive quality, exaggerating gruff inflexions to the point of mockery. As the echoes of his own cruel taunts were levied against him, Gavin was knocked from his stupor. 

"I said what I said." His brow scrunched together as he sharply hocked the bubbling liquid from his lips. "I'm not going to change my mind. If you don't like that, stop being a coward and finish the job. Or are you gonna let your gaggle of shitheads do your dirty work?" 

The numbing high of euphoria fizzled in the wake of this rejection. Sensation returned as Nines was struck by a lingering pang of sentiment. Inconvenient and inescapable—something that refused to let him proceed. 

He held all the cards—had claimed all spoils of their twisted game. He could do what he wanted. Snub Gavin out, extinguish his flame, all the while inflicting unspeakable suffering, making him hurt in every measure that he had hurt him. 

Nines was in a prime position to claim his victory. All he had to do was instigate the final move…

"I don't want to kill you." 

"I don't give two shits what you want. You've already taken everything from me. I'm not letting you take my pride." 

He couldn't move, gripped by indecision only Gavin inspired. It made him doubt his initiative, questioning whether or not he could act—knew how to—in the absence of his coercion. 

Despite everything, Nines was still losing, and he hated himself for it.

He let go of the other man's chin, removing the anchor holding him upright. His former lover teetered on the unsteady foundation of his knees before dropping back, collapsing against the gnarled concrete. 

"I am going to get Connor." The icy detachment in his voice resumed as he briskly stood. Refusing to betray any lingering disappointment or the bitter sting of his longing. "I'll decide what to do with you when I return. Whatever the outcome, make preparations." 

"Not like I can do much else." Gavin traced the perimeter of his makeshift cell with a pointed flourish of his head. His mouth contorted, forming into a twisted parody of a grin, as he flashed Nines a set of tobacco-stained teeth. 

It was astonishing how apparent his flaws seemed. With rose-tinted glasses removed, leaving only the overhead glow to cast a stark, unforgiving light on what he really was. 

"Take your time, sweet pea. Don't rush back." 

"I also meant what I said," Nines gravely reminded, plagued by a twisting ache in his gut. It pulled and wrenched, threatening to eviscerate his precariously held resolve. "I don't want to kill you, Gavin—but if it is a life for a life, I will not hesitate." 

Ascending the narrow staircase back to the hideout, Floyd was waiting to greet him. His pudgy lips parted curiously, attention darting down the passage towards the sealed door of the basement. Nines offered little answer to his silent query, save a curt shake of his head and equally brusque demand: 

"Bring him water in three hours, and make sure he doesn't get out." He stepped around the gawking man, straightening the lapel of his jacket. "Outside of that, do whatever you feel required to keep him in line."

Floyd stuttered a fumbled agreement that Nines did not fully hear. He doubted the simple man grasped the full weight of his permissions, but hoped the crux of the message was understood.

Turning the corner, he rounded his way towards the meeting room. A congregation of men stood huddled around the card table, conversing in tense mumbles as they pocketed supplies. Nines watched from the sidelines, observing the scene through an observation slot. This was until he kicked the door, firmly nudging it open. 

Vincenzo was first to look up, clicking a silencer atop his pistol before nodding respectfully to his superior. A message had been sent to DeLuca advising the deal was accepted. The rival gang would know they were coming and, despite the compliance, would undoubtedly be readying their defences. Ensuring they were prepared for tricks, planning required contingencies—

They had no awareness of the almighty storm about to rip through them, casting ruin to every one of their poorly conceived strategies. 

Nines gathered his own resources. Goggles and respirator slipped into the back of his tailored suit pants, the resultant bulk concealed by the tail of his overcoat. His pistol was already waiting, tucked dormant in the silky lining of his inner pocket. 

Checking the time on his watch, he adjusted the concealed mechanism attached to its case. Ensuring it was securely in place—and accessible when its moment came. 

A large duffle bag awaited him, propped against the nearby wall. The men closest, Rooney and Meyer, compliantly passed it over—reassuring their leader the contents had been checked. 

Nines pulled back the drawn fastening to peer inside, studying the neatly stacked bills before raising an inquisitive brow at Meyer. "And the rest?" 

"Y-Yeah, just like you said—" the lanky man responded, bobbing his head in overzealous insistence. "Promise, boss. Everything's ready." 

Satisfied with the fretful testimony, Nines resealed the bag. Slinging its ample mass onto his shoulder, he commanded the charge out of the hideout, his men following suit. 

The journey was spent in silence, as he knew that no further instructions were demanded. Everyone understood their roles, aware of what had to be done. 

The underground bunker DeLuca had led them to was a compact, windowless space—enclosed by walls of crumbling cinderblock. It had once served as a storage area for a now-defunct company, though the specifics hardly mattered. Basic blueprints of the facility had been recoverable, but without insider intelligence on the 'Snakebite Syndicate', it was impossible to know how accurate they remained. 

That said, initial scouting of the compound suggested no significant structural changes. This was fortunate. 

Less fortunate was the partition that had been installed through the centre of the room, dividing it. The barricade was fortified with bulletproof panes, with access permitted through a revolving doorway, the controls undoubtedly on the other side of the wall. A drop slot, similar to a mail chute, was also present, awaiting their deposit.

Evidently, Salvatore was making a business of this style of ransomed exchange, the area forming a hotbed for similar dealings. 

The mobster in question was sitting in wait, flanked by two of his more imposing goons, a chair positioned across from his station. The foundation of the room appeared to slope, with the Syndicate's leader positioned towards the peak of its incline.

Nines noted the deliberateness of this choice as he sat in his allotted seat. A smaller opponent would have been forced to crane to see through the opened window shutter. Fortunately for the towering figure, this wasn't a concern.

"I must say, Nolan, I was a little surprised when I found out it was you I’d be meetin’ with..." There was an anticipative twinkle in the older man’s eyes, matched by an assured smirk. "What happened to the old ball and chain? Feelin’ under the weather?" 

"The family has undergone a restructure," he curtly responded, studying the man scrupulously before slowly arching forward, face inches from the glass. "You will be answering to me now."

His adversary appeared somewhat rattled by the confidence. He edged back in his seat, beady eyes blowing to the largest fraction physically possible…

Until crinkled folds formed in their corners, and his lips twitched with the re-emergence of his grin. It was far more pronounced this time, stretching to each of his prominent ears as he jostled the men on either side, nudging their forearms until they broke into obedient chuckles.

An inferred celebration of their superior's planning, as his scheme had come to fruition. 

Precisely as he'd wanted. 

The successful dismantling of Gavin's leadership, with Nines and Connor acting as pawns. Unwitting means to an end, their suffering collateral in achieving his goals. 

Chuckles built to laughter, fanning in waves across the Syndicate, as Nines imagined propelling a fist through their transparent barricade. 

Enclosing DeLuca's throat in his hands, he'd trapped the hideous laugh as he systematically crushed his larynx. Cutting airflow, allowing pressure to build until it sought escape through the swell of his eyes. Vessels would balloon and rupture as the man's ruddy skin turned blue, and he was decisively robbed of his ability to make the sound again—

The fantasy ended with a steadying breath as Nines grounded himself. The morbid images slipped away, allowing for a renewed focus on the task at hand. 

"I want to see my brother," he requested evenly, masking all traces of malicious intent. "If you can prove he is alive, I'll give you the money. Fail to do so, and the deal is off."

He hefted the duffle bag, brandishing it towards the glass for added incentive. DeLuca's eyes gleamed with avarice, captivated by the bulging seams. He was practically drooling as he motioned to a pair of his thugs, who vanished beyond the glass.

When they returned, they did so with the audience their 'guest' had requested. 

Connor was presented like a hunting trophy, his weakened body propped limply by his armpits, anchored between their grips. Were it not for low, wheezed breaths rattling through his swollen lips, Nines would've assumed they were too late. 

The mutilated figure scarcely resembled his brother. Every inch of flesh was covered in bruises, patterned by deep-set gashes dragged and scored in all directions. One of his eyes was pummeled so rigorously it had swollen shut, while the other was hidden beneath a serrated mass of pink. 

There were also blisters—clustered in patches that bubbled and wept—like he'd been drenched with scalding water.

As though the depths of brutality weren't enough, they'd had to escalate their torture, inflicting pain so excruciating that Connor undoubtedly pleaded for death. 

He could not answer when Nines called, but it wouldn't have mattered. The mobster couldn't hear anything past the roaring rush of blood in his ears.

Rage boiled. Hissing like steam through every available pore, gurgling beneath his skin as it demanded release. He would not let this atrocity go unpunished—yielding an inch to the creatures who had done this to Connor.

They would receive no reward, with the family under strict guidance to give them exactly what they deserved. The only exception was DeLuca, who would be forced to wait until last so that Nines could deliver fitting retribution. 

Resisting the impulse to abandon all sense—to charge headfirst into action and snatch his brother from their revolting clutches—he resumed the act of compliance. The ploy developed gradually as he noted the number and positioning of the captors. Determining vulnerabilities and establishing escape routes before identifying a primary candidate: 

The fire exit stationed at the crest of the slope.

True to his word, Nines made the deposit. The duffle bag rattled down the chute, echoing through its narrow confines. He then released the handle of the drop box, a spring lock pulley snapping it back. On the other side, Salvatore’s men yanked the opposing lever, eagerly retrieving their spoils. 

"I’m glad you could see reason," DeLuca lauded, exuding satisfaction as his men fumbled to raise the bag onto a nearby countertop. "I’ve always liked ya. Connor, too. You’re good kids. That’s hard to come by in this line of work. Ya know what I mean?"

Nines bit down on his tongue, threatening to rupture the muscle, as he forced a cordial nod.

"Really, this ain’t nothin’ personal, it's just—" 

His feigned sympathy was interrupted as his lackeys ripped through the bag’s fastenings. The severed drawstring fell to the ground as one of them exclaimed in cackled delight:

"Holy fucking shit! Look at all this!" 

Salavotre’s head snapped around, beaming in tandem as he keenly leant toward the counter. The goons had recovered the first stacks of notes, brandishing them like fans. The rest of the layer was excavated, piles carded through with practised thumbs, as they were checked for the number of bills.

As this practice was underway, Nines also began to count. Smoothly and methodically in his head: 

Four. 

"I understand," came a measured lie as he clasped his hands in his lap, fingers wound tight. "Although I wish circumstances could have been different. With communication, we might have come to a fairer arrangement."

"Ahh, don’t be like that," Salvatore dismissed, waving his stout fingers. "Reed was gonna be a serious problem in expanding my turf. I know he was still sore about what I did to his Pa."

Nines was doing a masterful job of appearing focused on DeLuca while his attention had shifted elsewhere. His sharp eyes stared through him, trained on the men rifling through the duffle bag.

"I would’ve gone for him directly, but ya know how it is..." The older man looked Nines up and down, extending his reach to trace his full stature. A not-insubstantial degree of jealousy was evident in the despondent curl of his lips. "He had protection."

"Had eliminating Gavin been your goal, there would have been other ways to do it." Nines made a concerted effort not to let any anger bleed through the cracks of his stony visage. "It is a shame that you didn’t consider appealing to me directly. I am my own man, with my own autonomy. I believe you will find I am quite reasonable."

Three.

"Yeah, but it’s…different with you two…what with…" Salvatore rolled his wrist, floundering to find the desired words before abandoning at tact. Snorting uncouthly, his shoulders stooped in a dismissive shrug. "Look. Let’s not play dumb here. We all know you were close." 

"Yeah, real close."

A rogue snicker emanated from the makeshift workbench. The men assigned to count the money had unceremoniously abandoned their task, opting instead to jostle each other with a series of juvenile shoves. The larger of the two, whom Nines identified as the instigator, began flipping his wrist limply, speaking in a breezy, lisping cadence. Obscene displays soon escalated as the second man bent over the table, his cohort positioned behind him. Together, they mimed unsavoury acts, scored by wanton moans and exaggerated pants. The dominant party repeatedly swatted the air above the other’s backside, adding to the vulgar pantomime.

Salvatore made a show of frowning, although it was clear he was amused by the antics. He then motioned towards the table, demanding they resume their previous task.

 "Point being: I knew I had to do something extreme to shake up the waters. You don’t get what you want in this world by keepin’ on as a little fish."

"I wholly agree," Nines drawled, citing a muddled analogy DeLuca favoured during his time with the family. Something he’d frequently spout to Connor during his coaching on finances:

"If you choose to swim with the sharks, you mustn't allow yourself to bleed. Unless you wish to be eaten."

Following his cue, the more overt 'muscle' present in his carefully curated company began to position themselves, ready for an impending charge. Nines continued his efforts to retain DeLuca’s focus, feigning interest in his mundane response, all the while pondering the most gratifying ways to shatter his skull.

"Hey, you got it," the smarmy man winked, clicking his tongue as he did so. "Props for bein’ a strong swimmer, Nole. Better luck next time." 

Two. 

Unfortunately, Nines would need to step up his efforts, as progress risked being fatally hindered. Salvatore was seeking to wrap things up, signalling to the men holding Connor, ushering them into action with a firm head tilt. They began to advance towards the rotating doorway as their boss to close the metal window shutter. A brusque conclusion to their exchange, having gotten what he wanted. 

Nines glanced at Vincenzo, who had been examining the catch on the entrance. Namely, it's flimsy aluminium plating, scarcely secured by loose bolts. He gave his superior a nod, ensuring there would be no issues in claiming access to the room—when the timing was right. 

As it stood, they couldn’t allow DeLuca’s men to breach the seal of the door. Not in the absence of a crucial moment yet to pass. 

"I can assure you my blood is in no danger of being spilt," Nines began cryptically, seeking to recapture the man’s attention, "but I fear yours is already in the water."

This effectively stalled Salvatore's movements. His grip hung suspended on the handle before gradually loosening. "...Whatchu talkin’ about, kid?" 

"I am simply suggesting that with how you currently operate, you are likely to make some enemies." He paused momentarily, watching as he gauged the man's reaction. "Given your reputation for defection and backstabbing, I doubt you’ll find many associates willing to lend you protection, ‘Snakebite.’" 

DeLuca was less than appreciative of the advice. His face flushed red, veins pulsing from the crinkled folds of his brow, as his lips pulled into a tense line. 

"I don’t know what you’re implyin’, faggot ," Any show of decorum was gone as he spat the hateful rhetoric in response to the slight. Proving his namesake and exposing precisely the calibre of deceptive bastard he was, " but I don't need any protection. I get what I want when I want it—" 

To illustrate his point, he levied a pudgy finger at the room behind him, gesticulating wildly to the men counting his money. They were making good progress, moving onto another layer, closer to their penultimate find…

Not that they were aware of this. They would be staying much longer for all they knew, sorting through piles of ill-earned riches. Nines’ own dormant fingers migrated from their neatly held clasp as one of them arched towards his wrist. 

One. 

Satisfied with the silence, Salvatore reclined in his chair with a grunt. Running a sleeve across his temple, he dabbed at the dense sheen of sweat beginning to form. "Now, don't run this for yourself by gettin’ all sour. I already told ya, ‘better luck next time.’"

Beads of perspiration trickled down, in line with the steady tick of seconds beneath the glass of Nines' watch. His finger deftly traced the mechanism, ready to unleash its cataclysmic reckoning. 

"I don't think we'll need to worry about next time." 

Now.

As DeLuca's men reached the layers containing decoy notes—and before any suspicion could be drawn—Nines detonated the trigger. The concealed devices in the bag promptly ignited, releasing billows of smoke that rapidly filled the enclosed space. Chaos erupted, with members of the Syndicate stumbling blindly, clutching their throats as they wheezed in panic.

The infiltration began.

Protective equipment was removed from pockets—strapped securely across eyes and mouths. Vincenzo stepped back, guiding his cohorts to do the same, as he retrieved a handgun from his pocket, aiming it towards the doorway. With a targeted shot at the catch, the flimsy metal promptly crumpled, splintering into shrapnel. DeLuca and his men were left exposed as the first of the assailants advanced.

The thugs holding Connor were dealt with first. A decisive shot between their eyes, a bullet embedded in each temple, to which they folded like marionettes onto the ground. Rooney and Meyer moved in fast, catching their captive and holding him upright.

Any further shots were held as they carried him towards the fire exit, hurriedly breaching the seal. They slipped from view, the breeze outside slicing through the blackened clouds, moving Connor to safety.

The door was slammed shut, and in the knowledge no further harm would fall upon him, Nines showed no hesitation. Save for covering exits, coordination and planning became less of a concern. He raised an arm before flinging it forward, a clear signal to proceed.

What ensued was a massacre. The spearing of fish in a concrete tank as they desperately floundered for escape. Puerile tendencies notwithstanding, DeLuca's men were far from amateurs—but they put up little resistance. 

The confusion was too great, and the ambush too precise. One by one, they fell. 

A man by the door clutched his throat as a bullet pierced through it, eyes wide in disbelief. He gurgled like a brook, mouth spilling blood, as he futilely fought for air. Another man darted away as he fell at his feet. Searching blindly for escape, but turning too late. A silenced shot cut through the mist, catching him in the chest.

The smoke had dispersed slightly due to the previously opened exit, but it hadn’t provided enough reprieve for the men to establish bearings. Most were eliminated before they could comprehend what was happening. 

Nines had no consideration for them, retaining focus on his primary target. Barging through the dwindling crowds, callously thrusting aside survivors as they scrambled for cover, he headed straight for DeLuca. 

The cover continued to thin, parting in a slow reveal of the immense carnage surrounding them. Bodies lay strewn across the room, lifeless eyes gawking at the crimson streaks which fanned in all directions—traces of life lending vibrancy to a once barren palette of grey. 

Salvatore shuddered, mouth agape, as trembling hands fumbled with a gun half-retrieved from his pocket. Nines quickly impeded his efforts with a fierce hook to the jaw and a targeted kick to the abdomen. 

The man was propelled into a nearby wall, weapon flinging from his jacket and skidding across the tiles. He wheezed, stunned by the impact, as his hands fell to his sides, fingers twitching involuntarily. Nines surveyed the sea of death, discerning no lingering forces remained to aid him.

He then signalled for Vincenzo to open the exit, permitting the remaining smoke to clear from the space. With the field of vision returning, he ripped off his mask, tossing it to one side before continuing his advance.

The older man snapped from his daze as fear sparked in his eyes. Nines loomed closer, becoming lost in his violent desire to extinguish the light—quashing it with his own hands, watching it fade permanently. 

In grim comprehension of what was approaching, Salvatore made a desperate attempt to slither free of his fate. He clambered through the bloodied embers of his empire, crawling on hands and knees, whimpering like an infant. Babbling through the pitiful sounds, he implored Nines to search his conscience, to show him mercy —

He would show every measure of mercy they had shown his brother.

Nines didn't think, couldn't think, as he grabbed DeLuca by the collar and forced him to turn around. Searching the man's horrified gaze, he smoothly adjusted his pistol—grasping it by the barrel, rotating it so the grip was angled towards his cheek.

" Holy shit, please—God— don't —"

He struck it across his face. Repeating the motion again and again, until skin and muscle tore like paper, and rivers of red flowed freely through cool, pitted steel.

DeLuca's face soon lost structure—reduced to a shapeless, pulpy mass. The attached body twitched and spasmed as gurgles rumbled from what remained of his lips. Torn ribbons of flesh that flapped weakly, futilely, until their movement finally ceased. 

Then, there was nothing. Just a silent, broken ragdoll collapsing laxly against the tiles. 

With the task finished Nines strode from the primary scene, scouting the adjoining rooms until he found an old utility closet fitted with a basin. He washed the blood from his hands, staining porcelain with the filth of the savagery he had just committed.

He then traversed back through the chaos, leaving the hideout through the fire door and stepping out into the sunlight. Breathing deep, he filled his lungs with crisp fall air. Far less oppressive than the acrid stench of copper and gunpowder.

The mollifying ritual was halted by the rumbling of a burner phone concealed in his jacket. Nines reached inside, retrieving the device before surveying its contents.

Rooney and Meyer had done as instructed in securing Connor's help. The correspondence had come from Dr Victor Dagny, the principal of a prestigious local medical centre and established confidant to the family:

┌─────────────────────────────┐

                                    

Junius Ward  

       

Room Number 317     

Let me know when you're done.     

- V.

             

└─────────────────────────────┘

┌─────────────────────────────┐

                                    

I am done.  

       

Ready for transfer. 

- N. 

   

└─────────────────────────────┘

The trip to the hospital was gruelling despite the short duration. His mind ran wild with possibilities, ruminating on all manner of news that could be awaiting him on his arrival. 

With every rotation of wheels against tarmac, the raging pulse of adrenaline tapered, and the lingering smog of fury dispersed. In this renewed clarity, he was forced to contend with an increasingly bleak outcome. One where his triumph meant nothing, as he was made to endure the loss of his most valuable treasure—

But he couldn’t succumb to despair, the situation demanding greater mental fortitude. As the journey wore on, his mind rebuilt its strongholds. Anxiety turned to disillusionment as Nines blocked his grim introspections. Upon arrival, he mustered the strength to power out of the transfer vehicle, pushing aside the heavy doors of the clinic’s entrance.

Dagny was waiting for him, rolling on his heels, lips pulled into a crestfallen scowl—prepared to recite a briefing on Connor’s condition. Nines neglected to listen, veering towards the Junius Ward, reasoning he could discern the severity of the situation when he saw his brother. 

He doubted anything could be said that hadn't already been ascertained from the profound desecration they'd discovered him in. Were the prognosis even worse than that, Nines did not want to hear it. Not now. 

He just wanted to be with him. To be close, even if his sibling could not comprehend his presence.

Despite all internal persuasion that he was ready—with cognitive strongholds sufficient to shield him from psychological blows—Nines was woefully mistaken. 

Upon entering Room 317, all assurance shattered the moment he saw him. 

Connor, the incarnation of strength and vibrancy, wrapped like a corpse in a polyester shroud.

His body was drowned in sterile vacancy, not just from the starched linen but from the oppressive shine of the lights above. A stark illumination that only served to highlight the full extent of his injuries.

Almost every inch of his body was bandaged—binding skin that had been irreparably damaged and preserving what little there was to save. One hand was encased in thick gauze, the folds stopping disquietingly close to his wrist, while the other hand was exposed enough to reveal an embedded cannula.

He was hooked to a complex matrix of tubes and wires, aligned with monitoring devices which buzzed and droned incessantly—a stark testament to the intricate balances keeping him alive. 

From what little Nines registered from Dagny, his brother was in a state of deep chemical sedation—aimed at promoting his physical recovery but also to mitigate the depths of suffering he would otherwise endure. 

Despite this, the awful, rattling resonance of his breathing persisted. Audible over the monotonous beeps of a nearby heart monitor. Nines could not elude the suspicion that Connor was still in pain, suffering desperately despite all extensive medical intervention.

Assessing his presence wasn't welcome, Dagny left the siblings alone, permitting them some much-needed privacy. Nines sat in the chair beside Connor, feeling decidedly numb against the rigid groove of moulded plastic. 

For a moment, he didn’t move or speak. He seldom breathed, as the oxygen in his lungs was held under strict deadlock. Just stared absently across the bed, paralysed by indecision. 

Then, slowly, his weight shifted, the teetering legs of his seat groaning. His fingers slipped across the sheets, moving to clasp his brother’s hand. This was until hesitation re-emerged, and he doubted whether or not he should. Not wishing to hurt him more. 

"...Connor? Can you hear me?"

Even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Nines had known that—and was uncertain why he asked—perhaps borne from sheer desperation to hear his voice. To fill the vacancy in the room with something .

It was an absence that ached far more than words could convey. The distance between them felt immense despite their current proximity. It soon became unbearable, compelling him to push past his fear and decisively bridge the gap. 

Connor didn’t flinch when their hands met. There were no involuntary spasms, not even as he tentatively brushed a thumb across one of his numerous burns. 

Maybe he couldn’t feel anything. Truly detached from the Hell he had been mercilessly dragged through…

It was a comforting thought, far more so than the alternative. 

"I wanted to come and get you sooner. As soon as I knew where you were, I just—I couldn't go against him. I was too scared to find out what would—"

He stalled, too disgraced by the shallowness of his excuse to continue—the contemptuous words lodged in his throat, inspiring sickness. 

To have permitted such selfish desires—lust and voracity—to take precedence over the things that were most important. 

Shrouding his principles, allowing damage to escalate irreparably before finally choosing to act.

"I was weak, and you suffered for that." The confession came with a shuddering breath, clawing past the flimsy sentiment he had abandoned. "I'm sorry, Connor. I promise I'll never be that weak again."

Nines could only hope his slumber was proving restful. Shielding him from the egregious injustice the world had inflicted. Perhaps it was immersing him in simpler times—happier ones.

"...Do you remember when we were small…" The words came idly, without any real intent or direction, "and Dad used to take us on fishing trips? I’m not convinced he even liked fishing. I think he just enjoyed the quiet. Being so far away from everything."

Their father had always valued the comforts of solitude. The pleasantness of a peaceful silence unburdened by pressure or pain. Just being . Nothing else.

Nines laughed, though it hurt to do so, the sound more akin to a terse gasp. He straightened his back correctively, forcing himself to smile. An exhibition of positivity where he tried to appear genuine, as though Connor might sense if he wasn't.

"I suppose it was never that idealistic. We never let it be so calm—

Do you remember when Cole tried to convince us there were monsters at the bottom of the lake? And that if we stuck out our rods too far, they would come up and grab us?" 

 

This was until everything happened. 

After that, all Dad knew was pain, and it couldn’t be escaped. No amount of cathartic fishing trips—idle time spent with his children—would ever change that. 

Nines had been too young to understand—but looking back, it was as though he didn’t want to. Their father didn't fight his anguish but submerged himself in it. Plunging deep, allowing it to consume every part of him. 

 

"Then he…" Another forced laugh as Nines pressed through derealisation to finish his story. "He pushed you in. Dad was livid because you could barely swim, and he had to jump in with his wallet and phone to scoop you out…"

 

The descent had started with their mother. Disappearing without a trace, nothing to suggest where she might’ve gone. Dad threw himself into his work at the DPD, investing everything and making endless sacrifices to discern what had happened. To find her.

 

"...But he didn’t mind. Not really. All he cared about was that you were safe…" 

 

He never did.

Connor and Nolan had been okay. They were young when she vanished—young enough to recover, to ‘forget’—as people always assured. Nolan could scarcely recall her at all. Not even a face, save from glimpses in snapshots stashed in the shoe box beneath his father’s bed.   

Cole had been different. 

He was older—couldn’t forget, couldn’t move on. 

Dad was submerged so deep in the waters that he didn’t notice his eldest son being pulled under. Consumed by grief, exacerbated by the perceived rejection of his remaining guardian. Dragged deeper and deeper until he was lost to a current of choppy waters. 

 

"He just wanted to know you were safe." 

 

It started with Mom, but it ended with Cole. 

The night he stole Dad’s car, driving it at 100 down Interstate 96—until he lost control and clipped a telegraph pole. He was sent hurling through the window, whirring through the inky black towards the sky. Air rushed past him, brisk and freeing, although Nines doubted he’d had time to register this. 

Then he hit the ground, and it was over. All of his pain was gone, ensuring he never felt lonely again. 

 

"I thought we could go back there one day. I know it wouldn’t be the same, but it could still be nice. There was so much history on that lake, so many memories..."  

 

Something changed in their father. All the resolve, all the drive, was gone. Spidering like a cracked windowpane until the pieces broke apart, scattering across the floor with the splintered fragments of their family. 

 

"I was going to surprise you for your birthday. I wanted to see if I could rent a boat for us. Just you and me, together."

It wasn’t long until sorrow and desperation led him into darker pursuits. 

The drink and drugs did not kill Hank Anderson, but rather the bullet to his head. Not delivered by his own hand but the hand of an aggrieved supplier.

Richard James Reed, who had come to collect his debt. 

He imagined his father was glad, accepting this fate as a mercy. No doubt he would have done it himself had he possessed the strength to pull the trigger—

"You might act like tough shit, Nolan, but deep down, you're fucking weak. Guess you can't help that; it runs in your blood."  

"The lake is gone. They filled it in. Groundwork for a new apartment complex."

Reed had a child the same age as Connor. He must have seen some of his son in the petrified glint of tear-filled eyes. It had inspired some level of remorse in him. 

Pity. 

The decision was made to take them in, tying loose ends through less bloody means. The man probably thought he was doing a kindness, allowing them to live.

"They can never just let things be, can they?" Nines inhaled sharply, and the breath stalled. Obstructed by unsaid words, trembling against the walls of muscle, desperate to fill his aching chest. 

 

The younger version of himself would have never imagined—searching in curiosity online to discover what actually happened to his eldest brother—that Cole had been the lucky one. 

He never had to keep living, to discover the depths of depravity he might have sunk to, discovering what the darkness might’ve made of him…

To risk becoming one of the monsters that lived at the bottom of the lake. 

"After everything Dad did for you. After everything I did for you."

One of which was staring back at him, cast in the reflection of the nearby monitor.

 

Sorrow clouded his vision as Nolan Anderson broke apart. He burrowed himself into Connor's sheets, curling against his chest before he allowed the tears to fall. He released all the burdened pain that had been vying so hard for release—mourning for the children they had been and the adults they might have become had fate dealt a fairer hand.

Don’t go, Connor.

Please.

 

I need you.

He sobbed, howled , not caring who heard—not caring how weak it might be—allowing what lingering tethers remained of Nolan to slip from his clutches until there was nothing left but Nines. 

You’re all I have left.

He stayed in the hospital for some time, neglecting himself almost entirely—seldom eating, drinking or attempting to sleep. All in the pursuit of being there for Connor, even in the knowledge he often couldn't be.

His brother required surgeries, ones that frequently left Nines relegated to the waiting room. Watching as the seconds ticked by on a nearby wall clock. An exercise in mind-numbing repetition.

The longer time persisted, the more he was forced to confront the updates delivered by doctors. Each was a devastating, striking blow—knocking him back and fueling what evolved from crushing guilt into the re-emergence of silent fury.

There was no telling how long it would take for Connor to recover. If he ever did.

His face was destroyed—and with it, the boyish charm that had defined him. His off-kilter smile, delicate freckles, the guise that had instilled so much pride and assisted him in being so skilled at what he did. Carved and mutilated beyond repair.

Physiotherapy would help him adapt to the nerve damage in his right hand and adjust to the absence of fingers that had been lost to necrosis.

Then there was his eye, the one that was gone. He would need to learn how to cope with the loss of depth perception, the permanent knock to his coordination and balance—

All of this because Gavin Reed refused to comply with DeLuca's demands. To act in any small measure of favour for anyone other than himself.

Returning to the hideout was a reluctant journey but one he needed to make. Inaction and passivity were what had brought them to this point. 

 

It was time to make a decision. To resolve matters once and for all.

 

In the time he had spent in that bleak waiting room, surrounded by grief and boundless suffering, a moment of enlightenment struck.

Blaming himself was difficult. Excruciating. It was easier to place blame elsewhere. To channel his sorrow into hatred.

Nines swung the door of the basement open, allowing the bulbs to charge to life before casting his focus on the loathsome creature huddled against the ground.

As per their instruction, the men had worked to keep him breathing—but this was the extent of their generosity. 

Gavin was severely dehydrated, evident in his fissured lips and crumbling skin. His bruised, sallow face was drawn tight across his skull. Sunken and gaunt, a far departure from the healthy plumpness that once defined it. 

His former lover was filthy, caked in blood, as well as all manner of filth he didn't care to think about. Green eyes were ashen and lifeless, dulled to the point of near-translucency. They stared at nothing, unable to focus, as Nines was left scarcely convinced they were able to see at all.

He kicked him against the cavernous rut of his belly as a pained bark rattled from the jutting cage of his ribs. 

"Get up."

Gavin refused. While weak, there was a definite aspect of willful non-compliance, as there was a stir of recognition in response to his voice. A flicker of awareness across his blighted gaze, understanding who it was inflicting his current beating.

Nines kicked him again. Harder, to which another sharp cough escaped his lips—a sickly cocktail of fluids sputtering out. 

"Connor is alive," he informed, watching in sadistic delight as the man wheezed and writhed, desperately grasping for air. "Barely."

Through rasping breaths, Gavin grumbled a response, unwisely defiant, growing more resonant the longer he persisted. "—Don't—give— a — shit —"

He was pulled by the front of the binds and forced to his feet. His legs teetered ineffectually, unable to support his dwindled weight.

"We could have gotten there before If it hadn't been for you. This is all your fault."

"Whatcha gonna do to me, Nines? Huh?" He grinned spitefully, revealing the dense layer of grime accumulated on already unsightly teeth. "What's the end game here? You gonna leave me to die, 'cus you're too much of a pussy to finish the job yourself?"

Nines set him down a moment, allowing Gavin to collapse to his knees. Pausing, he assessed the situation, confirming in himself his next actions before he reached into his inner pocket. Pushing past his firearm, he searched for another instrument. Something more intimate.

He pulled out a knife, brandishing it towards the light, allowing it to glint against its polished surface. Gavin's bravado deflated slightly, fear passing his sneered expression as his muscles subtly slackened. Then, he scoffed, attempting to conceal a shudder. 

But he could not conceal the trembling, shaking his entire form. 

Despite this, the facade of confidence resumed—and with a defiant jut, he pushed his chin outward. Presenting his neck and goading Nines to commit the final, decisive act.

"Do it, then. Fucking prove to me that you can." 

 

Nines refused to comply. No longer willing to accept Gavin's orders or desiring his empty approval.

 

"As I said before, you aren't worth the effort it would take to end your miserable life." 

He leant down, angling the knife forward. After positioning it between his wrists, he pulled up, slicing through the rope. 

"Death would be easy for you. A mercy. I want you to suffer for what you’ve done, to live with the memories of what you experienced here—and to face all the punishment the world still has waiting."

Grabbing the newly unrestrained man, he thrust him forcefully against the door. The movement pushed it open, leaving him sprawled at the foot of the stone passage, bathed in the filtered light from the stairwell.

"You will untie the rest of your binds, and you will leave. I don't care where you go or what you do, just don't come back."

[thatneoncrisis]

oh captain my captain, I've read maybe ten TLT fics in all my time here so I'm not necessarily familiar with the common fandom takes. If you haven't already, would you mind elaborating on them? I'd like to know more about the history that prompted you to write your latest fic. please and thank you, I'm still reeling from the update today and I think I need to hear like. all of your thoughts ever about writing it

GUH. christ. idk its like a lot of things, its a year and a half of fucking around on ao3 and getting annoyed in a way i am only susceptible to because im fucking Online. if i get too specific it starts calling people out by name which i want to avoid so keeping it super broad:

the way gideon is written wrt being a trans butch of color

connected to that point like, the insane amount of rizz she has. god its so funny. to me

the way fics have like an interesting premise but run at a breakneck pace to get to the kissing and then it just ends. nooo the world was so cool go back nooooooo

how a lot of stories do this thing where they want ianthe to be a shitty ex girlfriend/half hearted love interest but they cant commit to her being genuinely awful or treat her like a person with feelings so it accidentally reads like her worst crime was being uncommunicative and bad at sex and unfunny, because the audience is already primed to hate her so were just like yeah this tracks

the sixth mommying harrow to an unbearable degree, like they treat her the way they treated nona in canon, this also extends to them wingmanning her

the like. paradox of wanting genuine conflict between harrow and gideon but also retaining their close banter. this is a hard thing to do if theyre like MEETING in a fic for the first time. theres rarely a reason for them to hate each other with such intensity and thus it fizzles out like immediately. i didnt even really bother with this i just did an immediate inexplicable closeness that is then undercut when harrow snaps out of it by going back to how she generally is

wrt harrows relationship with her faith this is less something im upset about and more something i rarely seen done in a way that interests me as an individual. shes catholic Ish, it doesnt really matter re her day to day outside of her childhood or maybe her job, she might pray sometimes or allude to long since conquered internalized homophobia

and in a similar vein like the very. Correct way people talk. its all very precise terminology to describe their sexuality or gender or a diagnosis they got and are actively working on. nobody is a faggot or transsexual or a girlboy or a thing they dont have a word for but know exists

again im saying this as often as i can. if youve done any of this cool. genuinely. keep doing it i cant stop you. its more about how often i see it just compound in on itself over and over, its the vast majority of fics that do at least one of these things. its a personal problem about wanting more from something that doesnt want to be more, and i cant make it more, because its not mine and wasnt made for me

[grapegoggle]

🪽🌸An introduction post i should have made awhile ago…!

Hello! i honestly should have made this a LONG time ago, but since I’m starting to use tumblr more, I decided I should probably just do it right now.

🪽🌸My name is Goggles! I am an artist and a game dev. I am a minor (17), and I am also trans. I go by he/him!

🪽🌸My blog is mostly for art, but sometimes I ramble. I usually post multifandom stuff, including some oc’s if im feeling fancy. The fandoms I draw as of right now are as follows:

Yandere simulator (I do NOT support yandere dev), Honkai Star Rail (crazy Argenthill fan), Splatoon, and Blooming Panic.

Tags of my oc’s are marked as follows: #Oc- Isaiah, #Oc- Evanthe, #Oc-Akui Sato, #Oc- Strevian

Tags for people specifically wanting to look through my art or stuff I talk about: #obligatory goggle art tag, #obligatory goggle rambles

🪽🌸Some other things I’m into but don’t actively talk about are as follows:

Jazmin Bean, Babymetal, Candye Syrup, Weezer, TV Girl, The Slatoon manga (Coroika), Vocaloid, Fnaf, Class of 09’ (unfortunately), Until Dawn, Persona 5, Danganronpa (sadly), Needy Streamer Overload, Hiveswap Friendsim, Mouthwashing, Mlp, Pokemon, Monster High, and anything involving mario characters (i love luigi).

🪽🌸You can find my other socials here! Which includes…

• My itch.io page

• My Instagram

• My Twitter

🪽🌸 If you are looking to commission art from me, check out this post!

DNI List

I think a lot of this shouldn’t need to be said, and are pretty self explanatory, but do not interact if any of these apply to you:

General bigotry, homophobia, transphobia, terfs, racism, etc. etc., pro is**al, pr*shippers, yandev supporters, Ai supporters. Just, general weirdos. Also, Nsfw. Depending on what you post you’re not weird for that, but I am a minor, so please don’t interact.

I think that’s it for the DNI.

🪽🌸Alrighty! That should be it from me. Thank you for stopping by! I hope you like my stupid Otohiko gifs.

[xenrui]

Dread

Pairings: Larissa Weems x Student!F!Reader

Summary: Homophobic parents coming to visit R just to insult her

Warnings: homophobia, parental issues, Arranged Marriage, Bad Writing

~

Y/n has been dreading this day, seeing her parents was not her favorite activity. And when seeing them standing near the fountain, she knew she was in for a treat

"Oh god, they're here" Y/n's voice was quiet, as if she was trying to hide from someone

"Who?" Enid was quick to ask

The look Y/n had made Enid worried a bit, she looked.. Pale. "Y/n who's here?" Enid asked again, worrying over her friend

Y/n pointed to the people looking around the crowd

"Oh" Enid's facial expression changed to a frown, knowing what her friend has been through. Wednesday has heard some stories about Y/n's parents and decided to not comment on the situation

She tried looking away but before she could, her parents already spotted her

"Y/n" her mother 'joyfully' called her name out. "How have you been?" Plastering a fake smile, probably to look good infront of Enid and Wednesday

While Y/n's dad didn't even try to good infront of them, having a slightly disgusted look on his face while scanning Y/n up and down

"I'm good." Y/n said sharply, her tone different from how she usually talks

"Be more cheerful, would you? We came all the way from the city just to visit you." Her mother gave the exact same tone as she did

Rolling her eyes, Y/n's mother notices and pulls her to the side as her Dad follows

"Listen here. We came here to visit to tell you that we've arranged you a little something when you get back home"

"What did you do?"

"A marriage, with your Father's Friend's son" Y/n's mother said, looking pissed at her

Y/n was shocked. She knew her parents didn't take her coming out well, but she never expected them to go this far

"I'm literally 16. You know I'm gay, and I'm not interested in getting married" Y/n retorted, earning a scoff from her Father

"Stop spitting nonsense Y/n. I didn't raise you to be.. disgusting and gay. You don't have any other choice than to Marry him, he's a smart and handsome young man. And if you don't agree you'll find your stuff at home thrown away" Y/n's father said annoyingly

Principle Weems was inside the Building near the family when she heard the conversation. Feeling her blood boil that one of her students being mistreated by her own Parents. Deciding to do something about it

"Excuse me, Mr and Mrs L/n" The principle erupted their conversation making the 3 of them jump a bit

"Don't you know what Privacy is?" Y/n's father said

He looked pissed as hell.

"I'm quite fond with what that is. But with hearing your conversation, I believe its best if I step in" Larissa said, looking down on both the parents making them both get a bit intimidated

"You have no concern in this. This is a family matter" The mother said

"If I'm correct, you sent your child here to not be mistreated, yes? But fron the looks of it, you're the one mistreating them" Larissa said, her tone slightly getting lower

"If she doesn't do as we say, She'll no longer be a part of my Family"

Y/n looked at The Principle, the broken look in her eyes made The Princple's heart break. She was always fond of Y/n, so making the decision wasn't hard for her

"If thats the case, I'll take her under my care. I think I'm more than capable of protecting and taking care of her better than you" She spat

Kneeling down the Students height and ignoring the Parents deadly glares, she asks

"Y/n, Darling. Would you like to live with me?" She smiled softly, wiping the tear that escaped the Students eyes with her gloved fingers

Nodding, Y/n agreed. "Yes please.. I'd rather be with you..." Y/n said quietly only for the two of them to hear

"Very good. Well, as she says, I will be taking care of her from now on. I'll be her Legal Guardian now so Please sign the papers I'll be sending you soon." Larissa stood up while holding Y/n's shoulders softly

If looks could kill, they'd both be dead by now just with The Principle's glare at them.

Y/n's parents takes their leave with grumbles and curses

Y/n turned to The Principle and hugged her, tears running down her face as she felt relief they finally left

"I'm sorry you had to go through that.." Y/n said between sobs

Kneeling once again to reach her height, Larissa caressed her hair

"Shh, I should be the one sorry. If I'd known earlier, you wouldn't of had to go through that. I child like you should have supportive people around you, and I'll give it to you as best as I can" She smiled at her student

"Even if I'm gay?"

"Darling, the reason this school exists is for people to not feel alone and judged. I don't care what you are, as long as you're happy. It's my job to protect my students and make sure they are happy and treated well. Now come, help me with some stuff now will you" She smiled

Smiling a bit with her, Y/n wiped her tears and nodded. Feeling happy that her feelings wasn't discarded this time

~

A/n: I'm sorry if This was bad. I wasn't feeling it either but I couldn't let it go to scraps. I hope you still enjoyed, Even if its just a little :)