#anyway this is based of a thing i keep seeing go around twt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jingyismom · 3 years

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Time for more sex-cursed Lan Wangji!

a messy, self-indulgent spree imported from twt and lightly edited

explicit, wangxian, 9k, canon divergence fix-it

mild dubcon because of the nature of sex curses (but like, they do their best to communicate around it), and cw for brief thoughts of self harm, no other warnings

This curse's origin is mysterious, perhaps politically guided. Someone is trying to throttle Gusu Lan's alliance prospects by removing Lan Wangji's stellar marriageability after Sunshot. It works, after a fashion.

Wei Wuxian is in the Burial Mounds, farming and hardening his heart as the resentment worsens his health, subsisting on memories of Lan Wangji's single visit.

Lan Wangji is at home in Gusu, pining away while they rebuild the Cloud Recesses.

One day, he begins to burn up with unexplained fever.

The healers examine him quickly and thoroughly and determine first that he's been cursed. This is not entirely shocking, but it of course angers the entire sect. Next they test for the curse's nature. It turns out to be a very classic, very coarse type of love curse.

The afflicted will burn up, losing all their sense and senses, and eventually die, if their body's “needs” are not satisfied by the one it craves most.

The healers are disgusted. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are outraged. But Lan Wangji becomes very calm at the news.

Before, he felt anxiety. The urgent desperation of a dying man waiting to be told how to live.

Now he is just waiting to die.

For you see, the choice between throwing himself at another human being—no matter who they may be—and meeting death with dignity, is an easy one.

Everyone else privy to this information disagrees. The argument that follows is short, but heated:

"Well, Wangji?" Lan Qiren begins once the initial furor has died down. "How do you wish to...go about this?"

Lan Wangji, over-warm and aching, looks up at him from the examination bed. Gusu Lan funeral rites are ancient and immutable. He does not understand the question.

Lan Qiren purses his lips and glances around. "We must find the person first," he prompts.

Ah. The person responsible. Yes, Lan Wangji does have business with them before he dies. He stands, only swaying slightly. "I am well enough to exact justice. Let us cast the rebound."

Lan Xichen steps forward then, and gently pushes him back to sitting. "It has been cast. However, justice can wait. Your health must come first."

Lan Wangji looks between his uncle, his brother, and the one doctor allowed to be present. Surely they would not be joking at a time like this.

"I do not understand," he says.

The three exchange a look. "Breaking the curse must be our priority," says Lan Xichen.

Lan Wangji is not sure he heard correctly. But it would be cruel to give him unfounded hope. "I was unaware there was another way."

"...There is not," says Lan Xichen, his gentleness unfailing.

Lan Wangji experiences a moment of deep confusion before the horror sets in.

"You cannot mean this," he says through his shock. "Surely you cannot mean to cast aside so many disciplines at the whim of a base villain."

"The disciplines are a guide," Lan Qiren says, hands behind his back, looking into the distance, "to ensure a life well-lived. They are not meant to inspire martyrdom."

Lan Wangji's mouth falls open. He stares at his uncle, mute with betrayal. He has never heard of any such leeway before, not in regards to disciplines of such a serious nature.

"You can understand, can't you?" Lan Xichen says. "That no rule is more important than your life.”

Lan Wangji disagrees vehemently. "I would not buy my life with such behavior."

Lan Qiren huffs in irritation. "We may perform a marriage in haste, if you wish."

Lan Wangji balks at him. That his uncle should speak so flippantly of...such a thing. It is unimaginable. And besides, forcing a marriage on Wei—on anyone in this way is surely only adding insult to heinous injury.

"I refuse," he says.

Lan Xichen exchanges a look with the doctor, and sits beside him. "Perhaps the other person should be allowed part of that choice."

Ridiculous. "There is no such person." Preventing this course of action is worth one lie, Lan Wangji reasons.

"With respect, Hanguang-jun, if that were true, the curse would not have been able to take hold," says the doctor.

The use of his title feels uncomfortably ironic from a woman who helped deliver him at birth. He glares at her. She smiles tiredly in return.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen says. His tone is beginning to grate on Lan Wangji's raw nerves. "You will at least try, won't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him in disbelief, in anger, in righteous indignation.

"Never," he says.

A hand slaps his shoulder. "Apologies," says the doctor, and the world goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to dark wood beams dappled by lacy sunlight, and a faint smell of char in the air. His head is heavy, his limbs full of lead. He swallows around the dry thickness in his throat.

"Water," comes a familiar voice.

With effort, Lan Wangji sits up. His stomach is roiling, his mind fogged from the coma and the curse both. The doctor, crouching beside him in the carriage, offers him a bowl of water.

He takes it, and asks, "What have you done?"

She sighs.

"My duty," she says, "with the help of your brother."

She draws back the curtain at the carriage entrance, revealing a sea of black, twisted trees and gray tumbled walls.

Lan Wangji's blood freezes in his veins. He just barely stops himself from asking how they knew.

"Why," he asks instead, a much safer question.

She considers him. "Your brother said if he was wrong, he would beg forgiveness afterward. But it couldn't hurt to have an expert in resentment and curses look at you anyway."

A stab of sick embarrassment makes Lan Wangji’s stomach clench.

Has he been so obvious? Is he such a lovesick fool that anyone with eyes can see his shame?

The doctor pats his shoulder gruffly and he flinches, expecting more needles.

"Ah he's your brother, he's bound to know things you don't want him to," she says. "Come on. Out you get."

He allows her to tug him out of the carriage and onto solid ground. The air is stifling with resentment, but he is glad to be free of his bonds. Now he can look for his chance to get away.

There are six Lan disciples flanking them. He eyes them warily, wondering what they know. When the doctor pulls him out of earshot, and pitches her voice low, he is satisfied that they have not been fully informed.

"Your family and I agreed to give you a chance first," she says. "You have 24 hours to take care of this yourself. After that, I will personally tell Wei-gongzi of your brother's message. I have been assured he will not jeopardize your well-being if fully-informed."

Lan Wangji gapes at her. He does not know what he expected to happen, but it was not this...this...mercenary attempt at...forcing...

The curse has weakened him such that he cannot fly his sword. He can hardly walk in a straight line, let alone run. He has very little recourse now that everyone in his life has gone absolutely mad. His heart is racing with the adrenaline of upheaval, of fear, of impending death.

He wrenches his arm from her grasp and stalks off of the road, into the brush. She calls after him, but he does not mean to escape. He cannot manage that alone. Instead, he sits. He takes a deep breath. He sinks into meditation.

"Hanguang-jun," she calls. She approaches, hands on her hips. She sighs. "Well, if it's like that, then there's nothing stopping me from telling him right now."

She turns, and Lan Wangji feels a lurch of helplessness, when a new voice rings clear through the fog.

"Tell what to whom?"

Lan Wangji's eyes snap open. Wei Wuxian is standing on the other side of the carriage, the child A-Yuan in his arms, eyeing the Lan delegation with suspicion. Wen Ning is with him, and the Lan disciples shift nervously just looking at him, but Wei Wuxian sets A-Yuan in his arms, and he leaps away up the mountain.

"Might I assume this little party has come for me?" Wei Wuxian goes on, twirling his flute. His eyes are shrewd and cold, similar to the way they had looked when he had first returned during the war.

At the sight of him, at the sound of his voice, the curse...reacts.

A horrid, uncomfortable shiver of need runs through Lan Wangji's body alongside his own simple relief and joy at seeing Wei Wuxian again, looking relatively well. He fights it, keeping still among the weeds, hoping against hope to go unnoticed.

"Yiling Laozu," the doctor greets him with a deep bow. "We have indeed come to humbly beg your aid."

"I see," he says. "And what will you give me in return?"

The doctor hesitates, clearly discomfited by the context Wei Wuxian is currently unaware of. "We may...discuss that. Once we have informed you of the details."

Wei Wuxian hums, considering. Cold. Detached. "And if I am disinclined to—"

He breaks off. The doctor has moved so that she and Lan Wangji are both in Wei Wuxian's line of sight. Lan Wangji closes his eyes rather than see the moment of recognition, rather than feel the weight of Wei Wuxian's eyes on him, like this.

"Lan Zhan?"

Lan Wangji clamps his jaw shut. It is a struggle not simply to crawl to him.

The renewed ice in Wei Wuxian's voice when next he speaks makes Lan Wangji aware of the warmth with which he had said his name. His curls his shaking hands into fists on his knees.

"What have you done to him?"

The doctor sighs. "We have done nothing. He has been cursed, which is why we brought him here. If you—"

"Daifu," Lan Wangji interrupts, his voice thin.

She stops speaking.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes, but does not look at Wei Wuxian, not yet. If he is careful, and uses his remaining strength correctly, he can perhaps...perhaps guide the situation. Toward escape. With Wei Wuxian's help.

He may have to lie to him. He hopes he will be forgiven, all things considered.

Lan Wangji stands slowly, carefully, considering each movement so as not to reveal the state he is in.

"I will speak with him," he says to the doctor.

She eyes him. "24 hours," she says.

He does not acknowledge this. He thinks they both know it will not come to that, though his idea differs greatly from hers. He judges, from the time they have allotted and his own weakness, that he has perhaps a day and a half, total, to wait them out. Doable, if he is careful and intelligent about it.

He can manage.

He walks over to Wei Wuxian, careful to keep two arm's lengths between them. This close is already too close: a fine, constant tremor has made a home in all of his tightly-locked muscles. He feels the moment his fever begins to rise further. The sides of his throat hurt, the interiors of his ears. He wonders if his hearing will go first, or his eyes.

"Allow me to explain," he says to him.

"Of course," Wei Wuxian answers.

He sounds strange. Cold, still. Lan Wangji wants to look at him, and almost slips, but manages to stop himself. He follows him up the hill, past the wards, through the resentment that clings to them both, now. He keeps his careful distance, following behind.

"What happened?" Wei Wuxian asks, as they walk.

"A curse," Lan Wangji says carefully. "Origin unknown. The rebound has been cast. I did not wish to burden you with this, but they are...they will not listen to reason. Wei Ying, if you would but help me, I would deal with this on my own."

"Oh?"

"I...wish to seek justice. They will not allow it. But you understand. If there is another path off the mountain, if you would show me the way past them, I could—"

Wei Wuxian stops dead, and Lan Wangji, with his eyes in the ground, runs into him.

For a blazing, agonizing moment, he is touching Wei Wuxian, clinging to him, every element in his body sighing and crying out at once in satisfaction, in the torturous need for more.

He tears himself away, stumbling back, almost falling. Wei Wuxian reaches out as if to catch him, but falters.

"Lan Zhan, you can hardly stand," he says, alarmed, "and you want to go and fight someone?"

Lan Wangji draws himself up taller again, trying hard to stop his shaking. He cannot look at him. He cannot look. He is already dying, now, just from not looking. "It is my right."

"...It is..." Wei Wuxian says at length, watching him closely. "And it still will be once you're well again. Your doctors really couldn't tell what type of curse it is?"

Lan Wangji says nothing, trying to think past the way every inch of his skin feels as if it is burning clean off. The pain of it screams through him, worse than anything he has ever felt. Wei Wuxian is still speaking, but it is hard to make sense of it. When Wei Wuxian begins walking again, slowly, it is all he can do to both follow and stay away from him. This, here, now, is worse than death. If it lasts, he certainly will not be sane when the end finally comes. He lets go of any thoughts of a dignified death.

Fortunately, by the time they reach the cool dark of the cave Wei Wuxian calls home, the pain has subsided to a distant roar. Unfortunately, he hoped never to reach this point. He tries his only play again, unable to think of any new tactic.

"Please show me the way off the mountain," he says without preamble.

Wei Wuxian is quiet for a beat. "You really don't want my help that much?"

Lan Wangji is so confused by this question, and then struck by the irony of it, that he almost begins to laugh. A shivery, jittery feeling fills his chest, and he leans against the nearest solid surface. He wishes he were wearing a loose outer layer over his blue travel robes, the better to hide his shaking. He does not know how to respond.

"You haven't so much as looked at me once since you got here," Wei Wuxian goes on, digging through strange pots and objects on a table, "so I get it. But you'll have to forgive me if I disregard your objection to the kind of work I do, when it comes to your life."

"My life, my life," Lan Wangji mocks, accidentally out loud. Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with his life? He was ready to give it freely in the war, but chance let him keep it. What difference does giving it now in the name of keeping himself clean of shame make? Why will nobody allow him this choice?

"What shame?" Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji buckles at the realization that he has said all of this out loud. He goes to the floor, to his knees.

"Nothing," he says. "The shame of not having warded off such a simple attack."

"Lan Zhan...you want to die because you didn't defend against a curse you didn't know was coming?"

Lan Wangji lapses into silence. He has said too much already. He does not know how to get out of this. He can only...he can only stay quiet. Refuse to speak or move.

"Lan Zhan...I feel like I'm missing something here. I only want to help.”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and stares hard at the floor in front of him. He has rarely ever felt so trapped, so utterly helpless. The extended, full-body pain is dulling his mind by the moment. The hems of Wei Wuxian's robes come into view, and it takes everything in him not to fall forward into him, to plead, to beg. His breath is hitching at random intervals now, his heart tripping as it prepares to fail entirely.

There is a soft gust of air, and an odd prickling sensation across his face.

"Now let's see—oh," Wei Wuxian says. "I...oh."

Lan Wangji wilts at his stilted, awkward tone. He knows now, surely. Can see him truly.

"So that's why you want to leave, and why they won't let you. They want me to find another way to break it, to stop you from...ah."

Lan Wangji sorts through the words, trying to comprehend them.

"Sorry," Wei Wuxian goes on. "I...it's unbreakable, otherwise. A very old, airtight spell. You...will Gusu Lan start a war with me if I do just let you go...ah, handle this the old-fashioned way?"

Comprehension dawns. And with it, a way out.

Lan Wangji rushes to agree. "They—" He cuts off. Will they? If they think Wei Wuxian has willingly let him die, rather than...

He takes a breath. Another. Forces his mind past the endless litany of pleas for relief.

"Show me the way " he says, his words breathless and short, "and then tell Lan-daifu what you have done. And why. But give me time to. Get away. And you will be safe."

Wei Wuxian pauses. "How...ah. How far—how much time?"

Lan Wangji tries hard to come up with an answer for that. His progress will be slow. But he need only find a place to hide.

"Half a day," he hazards.

Wei Wuxian seems to vacillate. "Are you sure you can make it on your own?"

Lan Wangji wants to rage. To weep. To curse himself to the heavens for being so depraved toward so endlessly kind a man. His heart hurts, even as his body strains toward him.

This lie may be the worst he will ever tell.

"I will be fine,” he says.

"Alright." Wei Wuxian sounds unconvinced. "I trust you."

Lan Wangji nearly convulses, holding back a sob. How will he ever be forgiven?

He cannot think of it. Only this, only what comes next. Only keeping Wei Wuxian safe from this mess.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Mn," he manages.

"Would you look at me, now? I haven't...used any demonic cultivation on you. It's safe, I promise I won't. I just. Can't we say goodbye properly?"

Lan Wangji has not moved from the floor. He does not move. He should try. A parting gift. Just one look.

But if he is going to leave. If he is going to succeed. He cannot.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says again, frustrated now.

Lan Wangji does not look. He is so close to freedom from the horrible pull, from the way his very veins are trying to tear themselves free to wrap around Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian steps forward, and Lan Wangji's breath leaves him all at once. Suddenly, there are fingers beneath his jaw, kind but firm, tilting his chin up. He has no choice but to look.

(Inspired by this art.)

Wei Wuxian is there. Tall and strong and perfect, tiredness mixed with something bittersweet on his lovely face. Lan Wangji's entire being melts toward him, a deep, sharp tug from inside his bones, a mindless, helpless, straining need that pushes a low, wanting sound from his throat.

Wei Wuxian snatches his hand away and backs up half a step, staring at him.

"Sorry," he says, blank. Confused. "I thought it was...I didn't realize...sorry."

Lan Wangji, now that he has looked, cannot look away. He has overbalanced without Wei Wuxian's support, fallen forward onto his hands, but he cannot stop looking at him. He will look at him, and keep looking; he prays Wei Wuxian is the last thing he sees before he dies.

The most shameful part of this is that none of it is the curse twisting his thoughts. None of this is. All the curse is doing is making the way he always feels impossible to ignore.

"Wei Ying," his voice implores. He does not mean it to.

Wei Wuxian takes another step back and looks down at the bowl of powder in his hand, confused. "I was certain it was that curse," he says to himself. "If I was wrong, then maybe I could break it..."

Lan Wangji tries to scrape his composure back together. He tries. He tries. His fingers scrape on the rough stone floor. He does not reach out for him. That is something.

Wei Wuxian looks at him again, then hastily away. Lan Wangji does not ever want to know what it is he sees.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, as Lan Wangji shakes, and shakes. "Where...where were you trying to go? I thought you...I thought you were, ah, thinking of a certain someone."

Lan Wangji's arms are weak. They are going to give out. He cannot answer him.

"I'm confused, and I...may have made a mistake," Wei Wuxian goes on, still backing away slowly, "but I just want to help. Can you tell me what was happening before, and what's happening now?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head, and the motion shatters his fragile balance. He falls, and curls tightly around himself in the dirt.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian says, suddenly close.

Lan Wangji sees his hand reach out, then pause, and he can't stop himself from taking hold of it, just to be touching him. His body screams for it, and he gasps raggedly at the contact.

Wei Wuxian wrenches his arm free. Lan Wangji wishes he were dead.

"Fuck," Wei Wuxian mutters to himself. "I...I'm sorry. I made this so much worse, I..."

"No," Lan Wangji rasps. He cannot hear Wei Wuxian berate himself thus. His dignity has now died, and he himself will soon follow. This is all that matters. "Not your fault."

Wei Wuxian huffs, crouching beside him. "It is...at least partially my fault, at this point, I'm pretty sure. You wouldn't be...reacting. Like this. If it weren't. Is...can I...do a few more tests? To check what I got wrong, and maybe—"

"You were not wrong."

He does not mean to say it.

His need to reassure has overridden his sense, and his mind is too slow now to piece together what it will mean before it leaves his mouth. The regret once it does is instantaneous. He tries to curl himself yet smaller in the dirt.

Wei Wuxian is silent. Lan Wangji cannot stop making small, pitiful, pained sounds in the back of his throat. Everything hurts. Everything.

"I don't understand," Wei Wuxian says quietly.

Lan Wangji lies shivering on the floor, arms locked around himself to prevent any more untoward behavior. He cannot take it back. He cannot try to explain. There is nothing he could say, regardless.

"Lan Zhan...but you..."

He can hear Wei Wuxian thinking, but it only registers in the far back of his mind. The rest of his consciousness is taken up by pain, and by ruthless restraint.

"You wanted to leave to get away from me," Wei Wuxian says, finally.

Lan Wangji does not answer. He wishes he had his sword. He would use it now to end this.

Wei Wuxian begins to back away again, and Lan Wangji’s body moves without his permission. He grips the skirt of Wei Wuxian’s robes in his fist and drags himself closer, pressing his cheek to Wei Wuxian's knee.

Shameful. Wanton. The small part of himself that is still aware berates the action. But he cannot let go. He cannot move away. The only part of him that is not howling with pain is the side of his face pressed to coarse fabric.

"Lan Zhan, you…," Wei Wuxian is trying to gently pry Lan Wangji's fingers from his hem. "You wanted to leave, remember? You don't want...you don't."

"Want," Lan Wangji croaks, pressing closer. "Wanted to spare you."

"Ah, Lan Zhan...I...I'm still not sure it's that specific curse, it could...there could be other..."

"It is," Lan Wangji says, half-crawling up Wei Wuxian's leg. He wants to stop himself. It is impossible.

"Lan Zhan...you...you shouldn't—"

"Stop me," Lan Wangji pleads, nuzzling against Wei Wuxian's thigh, "Wei Ying, I can't...please. Stop me."

There is a long near-silence filled with harsh breaths, in which Lan Wangji is almost certain he imagines the light touch of fingers brushing his mussed hair back from his forehead. Then Wei Wuxian speaks.

"No," he says. "You'll die, if I do. Lan Zhan. I won't let that happen."

He touches Lan Wangji's face. Lan Wangji whimpers into him.

He knows this will break the fragile repairs they have made to their friendship. He will likely never see him again, at least not on good terms. The thought makes him feel ill. He should protest. Refuse. Flee. He can do exactly none of these things. He reaches for Wei Wuxian's wrist, to hold his hand to his face, but Wei Wuxian flinches away.

"You can't...Lan Zhan. I'm going to help you," he says, "but you have to...you can't...you can't touch me."

Lan Wangji feels another tight clench of shame. He nods against his leg. He understands: he knows any small part of this is too much to ask, let alone bearing his unwelcome, curse-fevered grasping.

"Okay," says Wei Wuxian. He slides his fingers beneath Lan Wangji’s chin again, tipping his face up.

He looks so uncertain. So beautiful in the dim light. Lan Wangji wants to weep with it.

"Lan Zhan, I know it doesn't count for much like this, but you have to tell me. You have to tell me what you need."

Lan Wangji turns his head, pressing his face between Wei Wuxian's thigh and stomach, trying to reach into him, to feel more of him, to stop hurting just enough to think. It does not work.

"You," he breathes, into the scent of earth, and stringent soap, and Wei Wuxian.

A harsh, uneven breath ghosts across his hair, and Wei Wuxian's hands grip his shoulders. He thinks he is about to be pushed away again, but instead Wei Wuxian pulls him up, pulls him close, folds him into his embrace.

Lan Wangji sobs into his shoulder, trying at once to get closer and to hold himself apart, instinct demanding, even now, that he try to conceal his obvious, disgraceful hardness. His muscles quake under the strain of doing both and neither, and Wei Wuxian smooths one hand down his back, pressing him close, pressing them flush. Lan Wangji chokes back a shocked sound.

"Shh," Wei Wuxian soothes. "It's alright."

It is not alright. It is the end of the thing Lan Wangji holds most dear.

But he does not have it in him to argue. He is shifting against him, his overheated body begging for touch, indeed for ravishment. He is mindless with it. The pain is not subsiding but slipping sideways into something more, something different, something necessary.

He is on his knees on hard stone, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this: sweetly, hazily, with and without hope. But never like this. Never sick with remorse, with need, dying and demanding and defiling. His deepest desire twisted into a nightmare.

He whimpers again, his lips finding the soft coolness of Wei Wuxian's throat. Wei Wuxian jerks away again, and Lan Wangji fists his hands tighter at his sides, trying, trying not to overstep again.

"I—sorry," he gasps out. He will never be able to apologize enough. But he will try.

"Don't apologize," says Wei Wuxian. "I—"

He cuts himself off. Lan Wangji does not have enough sense to wonder why. In the same moment, one of his thighs gives under the strain, and he falls against him heavily. They tip over, to the floor, and he reaches out on instinct to brace them both. When he is again conscious of himself, Wei Wuxian is lying on top of him, breathing hard, both of Lan Wangji's wrists pinned to the floor in one hand. Lan Wangji arches against him inadvertently, and turns his face into his own bicep.

"Sorry, I...so sorry," he pants, his hips flexing, searching for friction. "I have...no control...”

"I know," Wei Wuxian says, "I know, I shouldn't have..." he swallows hard. "I'm going to keep you like this. Can I?"

Lan Wangji nods frantically, his eyes shut tight. He does not care. Anything that he can do to make this any less invasive for Wei Wuxian, he will do.

Wei Wuxian pulls away then, his hold still firm on Lan Wangji's wrists. Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stop moving, to stop searching for touch, to stop making such a disgusting spectacle of himself, but to no avail. What feels like centuries later, he hears the telltale sounds of talisman activation. He is too far gone in his pain to look up, to see what they are. He simply lies there, pinned and writhing, his breath catching in his throat. The sounds it makes are small, pitiful, desperate.

Just like him.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian leans back over him, a considering look in his eye. His hand hovers at Lan Wangjis belt.

"I—should I..."

"Yes," pleads Lan Wangji.

He needs Wei Wuxian's skin on his skin. He does not know how discerning the curse is about what happens now, but it feels as if he will die without it. Wei Wuxian takes what looks like a fortifying breath and unties the belt. Lan Wangji, unable to help, instead hinders the process with his ceaseless movement. But Wei Wuxian manages it with deft hands, and immediately unties each layer of robes in quick succession until Lan Wangji’s chest and stomach are bare.

The cool air of the cave does not soothe his burning. It burns like ice instead. Lan Wangji shivers, an ugly whine escaping him.

"What," Wei Wuxian asks, pausing, "what is it?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. He will bear it. He will not make demands.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, "you need to talk to me, I...I don't want to make this even worse, or, or draw it out longer."

Something small and dark crumples in Lan Wangji's chest. He does not want that either. He will need to speak. To ask.

"Hurts," he says, rough and thick.

"Where?"

"...Not...not touching me."

Wei Wuxian makes a distressed noise and lays both his palms flat over Lan Wangji's ribs. Lan Wangji groans, pressing up into them.

"Please," he whispers, helpless. "Please."

"Oh, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian murmurs, something sad like regret. He leans closer and slides one hand down. Lan Wangji shudders under him. "I'm just going to..."

Lan Wangji nods again, holding his breath to stop the whines from escaping the back of his throat.

Wei Wuxian unties Lan Wangji's trousers and slips his hand inside. Clever fingers wrap hesitantly around him, and he bucks up into them with an obscene moan. It is minor relief from the most consuming pain he has ever felt, and it is simultaneously the most intense pleasure he has ever experienced. All of these sensations, coexisting in his fallible human body, feel likely to rip him apart.

"Wei Ying," he moans again, when Wei Wuxian moves his hand.

He gasps for air, his body twisting into it, his whole being searching for Wei Wuxian. He makes another piteous sound, the torment of it all overwhelming. Wei Wuxian leans down against him then, his own robes open, pressing them skin to skin.

Lan Wangji sobs. It is something. It is something. The pain abates somewhat, and he sighs, turning toward him, his mouth brushing Wei Wuxian's hair. He has the wherewithal now to fight the urge to kiss his head properly, his face, anything he can reach. He holds himself still beneath him instead. And Wei Wuxian touches him, and touches him. The incomprehensible pleasure builds, and builds, until Lan Wangji cannot breathe. But it does not break.

Something almost like soft lips brushes his throat.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says into his ear, "this, is this...will this be enough?"

The pleasure is just another kind of pain, now. Lan Wangji shakes his head as sweat rolls off of him, as he tries and fails to get enough air to speak.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. "What, then?"

Lan Wangji's body knows what it needs. But he does not want to tell.

"Come on, Lan Zhan, after all this? Don't get shy on me now."

He misses the joking tone he is aiming for, but the pure, unmistakable Wei Wuxian-ness of the tease sends a surge of genuine desire through Lan Wangji. He wraps his legs around Wei Wuxian's hips and pulls him down. Wei Wuxian breathes in sharply.

"You just...you want...but only..."

"Please," says Lan Wangji, barely voiced. "In—" he cannot say it. "Please."

"Ah," Wei Wuxian whispers, into his skin. "If—are you sure?"

Lan Wangji whines. He wishes he were not so very sure. He wishes he were not asking Wei Wuxian to do something so intimate, so extreme. He wishes Wei Wuxian had let him die before it ever came to this.

"Alright Lan Zhan, just hold—hold on," he says, and is gone.

Lan Wangji clamps his mouth shut on a scream as the agony slams back into him, worse even than before.

Not soon enough, Wei Wuxian returns to divest him of his boots, socks and trousers. Lan Wangji fights him without meaning to, trying to keep his knees curled up to his chest, trying to minimize the hurt. Wei Wuxian is briskly patient, handling him with aching care he does not deserve.

And then he is upon him, chest and stomach, hips and thighs, smooth and hard and exquisite. Lan Wangji almost forgets the pain in the rush of gratitude, of solace. Their robes trail off them both, gathering dust as they move together in halting fits and starts.

"Don't let me hurt you, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian grits out, a strong hand lifting one of Lan Wangji's thighs by the back of the knee.

It is nonsense. He could not hurt Lan Wangji any more than this. And Lan Wangji could not stop him now if he did.

But the kindness. Even in this. Tears prick at Lan Wangji's eyes. He will miss him. He will miss all of Wei Wuxian with all of himself. He will never stop missing him. He will never move past this regret as long as he lives. How could he? Every breath he draws will be by the grace of Wei Wuxian.

Suddenly there is slick pressure against him, against his most private of places, and he gasps, loud and wretched. Wei Wuxian exhales, uneven and deep, and pushes in, in, in. Slowly. So slowly. Lan Wangji bites down hard on his lip to keep from begging for it. His arms are pinned, as are his hips, Wei Wuxian holding him steady, holding him still. Lan Wangji loses all sense. There is only the weight of Wei Wuxian, the full, stinging press of him, the searing pain, the devastating euphoria of being this close, and yet so very far in every way that counts.

Ages pass before Wei Wuxian is fully seated inside him. By then Lan Wangji's breaths are wet and shallow; scraping, desolate things. He does not know any longer what hurts and what feels good. It is all one and the same. He only knows he needs more, in some primal, wordless way.

He asks with the arch of his back, the squeeze of his thighs. He tries, somehow, to keep quiet, but fails more often than not.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says tightly, "try to relax, I'm going to move. Tell me if it...if it's right."

Lan Wangji manages a loose nod, though he barely understands.

And Wei Wuxian moves. He rolls his hips against him, shifting inside of him, and Lan Wangji groans. Each deep, short thrust pushes air from his lungs, and he lacks the strength to catch it again. It is beyond pleasure. It is ecstatic. To have Wei Wuxian around him, inside him, panting above him. A deep, villainous part of him wants it never to end. The rest of him howls for release.

He is dripping now, steadily, onto his own stomach. He can feel it pooling on his belly, unpleasantly cool. He whimpers between desperate, panting breaths, beyond words.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, breath shivering across Lan Wangji's collarbone, "I can't...can't keep this up, you feel too—" his breath catches, and he pauses. "I'm going to finish. You need to come."

Dimly, distantly, the idea that Wei Wuxian should derive pleasure from this, no matter how perfunctory, gives Lan Wangji a perverse sort of satisfaction. It snuffs out like a candle at the nebulous thought that perhaps in another world, they could have had this for real.

In this world, the fact remains that this has gone on far too long. But Lan Wangji can do nothing about it. He meets Wei Wuxian's thrusts, leans into the pleasure, tries to gain the momentum to go over the edge. He should be able to. It should be easy. He has been so hard for so long, has been given more now than in his absolute wildest and wettest of dreams, and yet he hovers, scant inches away.

Wei Wuxian loses patience, his head dropping to Lan Wangji's shoulder. He grunts softly and fists Lan Wangji's wet cock, quick and merciless. Lan Wangji cries out, shuddering violently with the extended, expansive stimulation, worked both inside and out, helplessly, utterly unmade by Wei Wuxian's touch.

And still he does not crest. He is sobbing steadily now, ugly and jagged, and Wei Wuxian kisses his shoulder, his throat, his cheek.

"Were we wrong?" He asks, breathless. "Lan Zhan please, tell—show me, I...I can't...you...I can't lose you. Lan Zhan?"

Exhausted, Lan Wangji turns his tearstained face toward him, blindly seeking. Perhaps they were all wrong. Perhaps he will die now, like this. And perhaps it is selfish of him, but having heard those words, he finds his regret to be less than it should be. Everything, everything hurts. But Wei Wuxian will miss him, too. Of course he will. They are zhiji. This, miraculously, will not erase that. It is more than he deserves. Wei Wuxian has always been more than he deserves.

Lan Wangji heaves, and writhes, and cries.

Wei Wuxian kisses him. Soft, gloriously cool lips on his.

An odd, fleeting, hollow feeling.

The dam breaks. The pain goes suddenly quiet. Roaring to fullness in its absence is the killing swell of such a long-delayed climax. It is possible that he calls Wei Wuxian's name. It is impossible to know.

The world, again, goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to gray light and distant birdsong. A sharp edge is digging into his shoulder. He shifts, then goes still at the deep ache in his entire body.

He remembers.

"Hanguang-jun should drink this," says a brisk voice to his right.

Wen Qing sits there, watching him. His heart skips a beat and he looks down. But he is fully clothed once more.

Her smile is wry as she holds a cup out to him. Laboriously, he sits up to take it. It is bitter, but familiar. A restorative. He thanks her formally.

She shakes her head. "No need.” She turns to go.

"Wen-guniang," Lan Wangji says. She pauses. "How long has it been gone?"

She turns to stare at him. He knows she knows what he means.

"How? When?"

She looks away. "You'll have to ask him."

The pang of loss he felt upon waking with Wei Wuxian gone speaks for him. "Will he let me?"

He lies on the slab of rock that serves as Wei Wuxian's bed for too long. It is difficult to tell the passage of time in the Burial Mounds, but it seems slightly brighter than it had...before. He reasons that it could well be the next morning. He wonders if Wei Wuxian slept beside him, then tosses the thought away as gross indulgence. He wonders instead, as he has many times since his last visit, if Wei Wuxian sleeps at all.

First, his excuse to tarry is meditation. He works at it, simultaneously restoring his drained core and healing himself, until the discomfort fades from his every movement to just a specific few.

Once that is done, he has no reason to be idle. But the voice in his head, Wei Wuxian's blisteringly cold one that had called him his proper name all those months ago, keeps him in place. He hears it saying all manner of things in response to seeing him now.

"What more could you possibly want of me?" Wei Wuxian sneers in his mind. And he would be right to do so.

But Lan Wangji does not intend to ask anything of him ever again.

And there is the other thing. The fact that his robes should be uncomfortable, filthy, but they have been cleaned, dried, and arranged back onto his body properly. Comfortably. Almost as if—

He dares not imagine. But at the very least it does not speak of utter contempt.

So he rises. He follows the path Wen Qing told him of. And he does something foolish. He hopes.

After no short while of walking, he comes to a slightly darker, more silent corner of deadened forest. He rounds a bend and sees Wei Wuxian crouched a little ways off, and then hears high, lilting notes as if through water. The energies are strange here, and Wei Wuxian is speaking to with them in their own language.

Lan Wangji approaches until he sees Wei Wuxian go still. He says nothing. Wei Wuxian drops his flute from his lips.

"Are you well?" He asks without rising or turning.

"I am."

Wei Wuxian nods. "Your people are waiting for you."

It is a dismissal. Lan Wangji recognizes this. But he will impose just a little bit longer.

"Your core," he says. Wei Wuxian stands abruptly, still facing away, gripping Chenqing. "Can it be replaced?"

Wei Wuxian whirls to face him, anger and fear warring with the questions on his face.

Lan Wangji has other questions, too. But they do not matter. He is intelligent enough to piece together the cold, empty space where Wei Wuxian's core should be, the tired guilt on Wen Qing's face, and...

"Your scar," he says, dropping his gaze to the scorched earth.

He should not know of it. But he does, now, and he also owes a greater debt than he can ever repay. Wei Wuxian does not respond. How dearly Lan Wangji wants to see his expression. But he will not infringe on any more of his privacy.

The wind howls. He waits.

"You won't tell anybody," Wei Wuxian says uncertainly.

Lan Wangji stiffens. "I will not."

"Nobody told you?"

"Nobody.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, momentarily satisfied.

"You're not going to ask how? Or when?"

Lan Wangji would like to. He would like to know everything of Wei Wuxian, even his sorrow, his pain. But he is not entitled to those things. There is only one point that matters.

"Can it be replaced? Can the procedure be reversed?"

Wei Wuxian sighs. Lan Wangji can tell he does not wish to speak of this.

"So single-minded, Lan Zhan," he scolds, then shakes his head. "The chance of success would be small; the chance of finding a donor, much smaller."

But this is all Lan Wangji hoped to hear. It is enough. He goes to his knees, arms circled in front of his chest.

"Allow me," he says.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian darts forward, trying to pull Lan Wangji up from the ground. Eventually he gives up and goes to his knees in front of him, pushing at his arms. "Lan Zhan, stop this," he says, panicked. "Don't be stupid, stop—Lan Zhan, you can't be serious."

"Please allow me," Lan Wangji repeats, eyes downcast.

"Stop this!" Wei Wuxian shouts. "It can't be done, and I wouldn't take it from you anyway!"

Lan Wangji flinches bodily. He had not considered...but yes. Everything in him is sullied. He bends at the waist, bowing further.

"Apologies for the offense," he says, then snaps his mouth shut. His voice is too obviously strained.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian says, still alarmed.

Lan Wangji needs to leave. He has already overstayed. But he...he has not tried hard enough.

"This debt is too great to repay in one lifetime," he says. "Please inform this one of what he may do to begin."

Wei Wuxian sags, dragging one of Lan Wangji's wrists with him. "Lan Zhan, there is no debt between us."

Lan Wangji only just stops himself from glancing up. He does not understand.

"I owe you my life and more," he says. "You took great pains to save me, even as the situation proved me unworthy of it. I owe—"

"You owe me nothing," Wei Wuxian insists, shaking Lan Wangji's arm. "There were no great pains. Nobody is unworthy. Well...you aren't."

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to protest, but Wei Wuxian speaks over him.

"People have...desires, Lan Zhan. There's nothing unworthy about it."

"But you—"

"Stop," he says. He sounds so, so tired. "If you hadn't been...dying. If we—" He stops. "Just keep my secret," he says, and lets go of his wrist. "And live well."

Lan Wangji closes his eyes. The thought of going back to his home, his life, after this, had not yet occurred to him. It sinks him from his knees to the ground. How can he do this? How can he leave him this way?

"Wei Ying," he pleads. "I must...I must do something. I cannot...I..."

"Why, Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian asks, not unkindly. "You have responsibilities. People to protect, just like me. Live well, and count things even between us. Why not?"

Lan Wangji’s chest caves in. He does not make the sound clawing up his throat.

"You...truly, you must know why," he says. "After... you must know. I would not leave you in need. I could not."

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says sadly. He shuffles forward. Lan Wangji startles at the feel of fingertips on his cheek. "You're too good. But all I need is," he huffs, "political asylum for me and 40 friends? It's not your burden."

Suddenly yet slowly, like the first burst of sunrise, an idea reveals itself on the horizon of Lan Wangji’s mind. It is unorthodox. And likely unwelcome. But it is all he has.

"My uncle made a suggestion," he says. "When my affliction became known. It is true that he did not know what it would mean, but I would hold him to it. If it is not...hateful, to you."

"I don't know what you mean," Wei Wuxian says warily.

Lan Wangji steels himself. "You are perceived as the head of a sect. A proper alliance could protect your people, and Gusu Lan is in need of hands for rebuilding. The person who cast this curse upon me has given the perfect excuse, and made themselves scapegoat. If you would...I would not ask anything of you, if you agreed. It would be a marriage in name only, as you wish it."

Wei Wuxian's silence turns to spluttering. "M—Lan Zh—marriage?? What—how—"

"If the idea is odious, I will not mention it again. But as I said. My uncle suggested it. And under the circumstances, he cannot refuse."

"Your—he—Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, look at me. Look at me, please."

Lan Wangji looks at him. His eyes are wide. Disbelieving. Concerned.

"Your uncle would qi deviate if you even hinted at such a thing," he says. "Gusu Lan is in a precarious enough position, you don't need...I have nothing to offer in return." He pats his lower stomach, empty of spiritual energy, emphatically. “Nothing. Don't be ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous," Lan Wangji argues, certain now that he is right. "You can offer more protection for us, and we can offer legitimacy. The person who cast this curse can be seen to have forced our hands. Has—has forced our hands."

He stops himself. He should not push this. Wei Wuxian is looking at him as if he does not know him.

"You don't want to marry me, Lan Zhan."

This gives Lan Wangji pause. It is a confusing objection, to say the least. He stares, trying to comprehend. He clears his throat. Takes a breath.

"If you are under the impression..." he stops. Drops his eyes once more. "...that the...impetus of the curse. Is the whole of the way I—”

"Demonic cultivation," Wei Wuxian interrupts. "It would be unhealthy. For you. And your elders! They wouldn't let me, not if I were...attached to your sect. To you.”

A fair concern, and one Lan Wangji has been turning over in his own mind as well. "Is this your only objection?"

Wei Wuxian casts about. "Ah..."

Lan Wangji takes one last plunge. "The elders can be reasoned with, compromises can be made. I am not concerned for my health: being near you could never be harmful to me." He hears himself, then, and amends, "Though you need not. Be near me. That is not a condition."

"You would defend this?" Wei Wuxian asks, bemused.

"Defend what?"

"My cultivation path. You..."

Lan Wangji resists a sigh. "I understand the reason, now. And I believe...if you did not object. We could work toward making it safe, without stripping you of what your hard work has created."

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says. He reaches out, then stops.

Lan Wangji stares at his hand, hovering between them. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his eyes, in his tongue.

"Wei Ying."

"You would let me, though?"

His tone is gently mocking. His head is cocked to the side, the edge of a smile playing across his lips. It knocks the breath from Lan Wangji's chest.

"Let you?" He asks, dazed.

"Be near you."

Lan Wangji's heart stops. It is a moment before he can respond.

"I would. Always."

Wei Wuxian takes his hand, and sighs. "You don't owe me this," he says again.

"I do," Lan Wangji counters, off-kilter. "I owe you. And I want to. I would want to, even if—"

He loosens his tight grip on Wei Wuxian's hand. He is saying too much, taking too much, being too much. He settles himself. Finds the words that matter.

"It would be a thing happily given, with no strings attached, should you wish it."

Wei Wuxian laughs strangely. "Lan Zhan, you really..." He shakes his head. "I'd marry you in an instant, you know," says.

Lan Wangji's neck hurts from the speed with which he looks up at him. Hope, warm and liquid, blooms through his limbs.

"But I can't make this decision on my own," Wei Wuxian goes on. "It's not just my life. We have to talk it over with everyone."

"Yes," Lan Wangji says, surprised, and eager now that he sees the possibility of success. Of doing something of use.

"Alright," says Wei Wuxian, a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. "I can't promise...but it...it could work."

"It will," Lan Wangji says, certain that the strength of his conviction alone will carry them through if need be.

He feels strange and dreamlike, confused but heartened by the turn in this conversation. That Wei Wuxian can stand the sight of him, let alone wish to ally with him personally, seems too wonderful to be true. Another Wei Wuxian hallmark.

"But Lan Zhan, no more talk of strings," Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji sobers and nods. It is unseemly. Of course their understanding must be a tacit one, now.

But his hand is suddenly in both of Wei Wuxian's.

"You need to stop feeling guilty," Wei Wuxian says, looking down at it. "If I were your husband...if I were. We could try all that again, but without the impending doom. We could try it again any way we like, any time—all the time—and we'd—"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji interrupts, strangled. His heart is in his throat. He cannot comprehend what he is hearing. His ears, his face, are on fire.

Wei Wuxian smiles down at their hands, one part shy, one part mischief. "I think we could get really good at it, if we had the chance, don't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him. "You..."

"Mn," says Wei Wuxian, meeting his eyes.

He shines so bright, even without any core to speak of. He takes Lan Wangji's breath away.

"I take it back," Wei Wuxian says, his voice suddenly urgent. "I like strings. Mine is that if this happens, I want to be your real husband. In name, in practice, in bed, and in your heart. Because you would be, in mine."

Lan Wangji's voice sticks in his throat. He feels...he feels unreal. He does not know what to do, to say. Perhaps they never broke the curse at all and he has simply gone mad. But Wei Wuxian's fingers stroking his palm, the root-knotted dirt beneath his shins, are real. He sways, unbalanced.

Wei Wuxian reaches out. Catches him. Folds him into his arms for a second time. Lan Wangji's breath shudders out of him.

He is on his knees, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this many ways. But never has it been so real, so full of hope. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in turn, buries his face in his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian huffs. "Jiang Cheng is going to be so angry."

Lan Wangji comes back down to earth. It is true he had not thought of this. He makes to pull away. "How should—"

Wei Wuxian clutches him tighter. "I don't care," he says, "I don't care, we can manage him." He pauses, then speaks more softly. "Maybe...I could see shijie's wedding after all. Or—no. It's too soon, I—"

"Yes," says Lan Wangji. "You will. We will go together."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and lets it out into Lan Wangji's hair.

"Together," he says.

It takes several serious, and at times uncomfortable, discussions, but in the end, Gusu Lan’s Second Jade is indeed thoroughly removed from the marriage pool of the great sects. The curse caster is found and punished. And everybody else lives happily ever after.

The end.

-----

(Thank you for coming on this wildly self-indulgent journey, I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to read some actually nicely-polished, fleshed-out fics by me—including another sex-cursed LWJ—check out my AO3.)

#my fic #mdzsnet #the untamed fanfic #theuntameddaily #bottom lan wangji #that tag just...has to go there bc i know people actually find things through it #on tumblr??? you ask #yes my friends evidently #anyway here's...this #angst that morphs suddenly into the MOST indulgent of fix-its #does it have a consistent tone??? is it Good??? who knows. unimportant #is it not enough to simply tweet 9 thousand words in 3 days and then yeet it at your tumblr followers too #this isn't FOR a literary award....it's for melodrmatic wangxian Feels and nothing else #i hope you enjoy it!!!! <3

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cttrajan1206 · 3 years

Note

#arrow sys#Love them#Absolute sweethearts all of em#And suoer fun to sprint with

FIRST OF ALL SOBS /pos

second,,, i know nothing abt twst or obey me but grabby hands at a ramble; i will absolutely listen if you wanted to talk about it :starry:

JSHDJF [WAILS ALOUD] I TOOK SO LONG SO GET BACK TO YOU THAT I FINISHED ONE OF THE WIPS IN THAT TIME LMAO!!

Well!! This is good promo! :> The one that i was typing up is finished now and it's the obey me fic! You can find it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33644662

Mammon and Movies:

Basically! Someone read another fic of mine that included my self insert flappy stimming and also getting mental breakdown so it asked if i could include a couple other stims in another work since he enjoyed my first one! I. Took that request and made an entire fic dedicated to him lmao. So! I asked it later on for what it would like me to include and which character to use and here we are!

This is a 4K fic of Mammon from Obey Me paired with a Neurodivergent!Reader. The plot is that of him showing you a magic trick and smoothly whipping out a movie ticket!! You've been wanting to ask him to see a movie with you for a while so this is perfect! So perfect in fact that you're overwhelmed with happiness and have a brief moment of being nonverbal as you're overwhelmed with euphoria. Then the next day, you meet him at the venue and the date begins! Other scenes include him allowing you to hold onto his bracelets as it's one of your stims (he wears one of every texture to accomodate to your tastes), you dissociating out of anxiety in a movie theatre and him helping to ground you, and finally! Him sleeping on your shoulder before the movie ends.

Ik i kinda just said the majority of the plot lmao but! Its just a fluffy and sweet movie date! I enjoyed writing it a lot although i got about 80% of it done a month ago and tyn didn't touch it for like 2 weeks sjdbsjd i was p sad abt that. I like finishing things quickly esp when its for other people!! But it was a comfort during a hard time to write this work at 2am under the light of a night lamp and to the tune of street life ambience.

ALSO I FOUND OUT THAT MAMMONS OFFICIAL SONG "ARE YOU READY" LEGIT HAS NO HOURLONG LOOPS AND THAT WAS A HARD HIT TO ME BC LIKE I WANTED TO LISTEN TO IT ON TV BUT IT WASNT HAPPENINGGG TWT WHY DOES EVERYONE LIKE ALL THE OTHER OTHER BROTHER'S SONGS INSTEAD LIKE PLSSS

Anyway lmao i'm quite happy with this work, it feels very round and finished to me which makes me happy because it means I didn't need to worry about editing it to feel satisfied. The requester liked it a lot too! Which made me super super happy. :>

Now!! For the twisted wonderland!! That’s a comfort plotline of mine that doesn’t really have a title yet and is still a wip that is written through my friend’s DMs BUT! I will also take the time to promo my twst writing blog! It is dead QvQ On there, you can see a bit more about the self insert in question but for now, i’ll just put the ship name as the title.

https://twst-sumi-squad.tumblr.com/

Kalim Al-Asim X Sumi Bint Khattar (Plot line):

So!! This one stemmed from me drawing something out of self indulgence and to show it to my friend, I described Sumi B in full and then I told them about my ships and around that time I had like five love songs I was obsessed with. And for each of them. I had. A separate animatic. For like at least 1 ship, the average was two but one had three. Sumi B was the centre of the most ships but not the only one. Anyway!! I told my friend about this and asked if I could dump my ideas onto them! They agreed and I started with a summarised version but then realised I needed a bit more build up so I started to write it in a bit more detail. Hah. It ended up being a Lot More Detailed but even then, I would write the scenes in a much more fluid and descriptive way if it were Real Writing so! I call it a Plotline. It is very long.

The plot itself is. long now. it’s a slowburn lmao because most if not all of my self insert ships tend to be slowburns. But this one? This particular self insert? Sumi B? Yeah she’s the only one with trust issues so she mothers the BIGGEST slowburns known to history. It takes them a year before she even considers him a friend despite seeing him every day and also having multiple deep conversations with him. Anyway though, this one is a big comfort becuase it has something I didn’t really dare to do before. Kalim, the canon character, falls in love with my oc first. Normally I have it the other way round becuase I’m too scared to assume that I would be like, deserving or like desirable enough for someone to have a crush on me. But with Sumi B, even I have a goddamn crush on her lmao. I indulge myself a bit with this one and really play around with emotions and!! In the most recent scene! We have finally reached the part where she actually starts to love him back! :D

I started this one a loooong time ago, at least a month and maybe two? It was Intended to be finsiehd in one night and then i got carried away and my friend got invested and then I ALSO got invested and so I started to develop the plot further so make it more interesting and keep the buildup going. It’s very fun and though i try to limit myself to summarising actions and dialogue, i fail. very often. so it often has little tidbits of more beautiful sentences and tension lmao.

This particular fic is based off of my imagined animatic for the song “Would you be so kind” by Dodie! I didn’t know about the song until i saw other people’s animatics and I ended up taking it and running away haha! I’m currently really happy with it however I am really dreading the day where I actually write it out properly. If I don’t? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll post the plotline by itself. I have another fic just like it, one with a different self insert who (in fact) is very very close with Sumi B and considers her his older sister, that i ALSO wrote in semi detailed plot lines in someone’s DMs. Both are massive comforts to me and though i love them, their plot lines are so goddamn long that i will dread the day i decide to write them all out.

So uhm!!! Yeah!! XDD Those are the two fics I was talking about! I hope you enjoyed my small ramblings about them haha. I’m starting college soon though so I fear I might have much more time for fanfic.

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crystalninjaphoenix · 2 years

Note

⟟ finally had Time to read the new Chapter! WEEE and ⟟ was so excited about it ^w^. ⟟ always say it bur still great chapter <3 Damn 18 Chapters Already that's sick ngl /pos. ⟟ love the new information we got and Chase being Facinated over make-up made me laugh xD.

idk if you could do it but maybe Like write ⏃ one-shot where Chase Trys out make-up but miserably Fails and the Others just laugh about it, you don't need to do it ofc! You're not forced or anything Just thought about it as ⏃ small funny idea.

Alright Back to the Fanfiction again. The new information we got is very useful for them and also for us Because now we and they know more about the king, ⟟ have ⏃ littel Feeling That maybe soon the king will Get Jair Back to him or have ⏃ small encounter With him in his mind or idk in the kingdom in like ⏃ very late time where Jair Just decided he needs some fresh air and goes for ⏃ walk at lets say 2am in the morning where the whole kingdom is asleep and you only hear the owls and birds. And I'm drifting of again oof okay now I'm really going back to the Main plot. Again the information we got is useful for them and us, Side note ⟟ like how Chase Character is Envolving? ⟟ hope ⟟ did write it correct. What ⟟ mean with that ⟟ like how Chase is Building up more Self courage to do things like break into ⏃ strangers Room, hanging around with Marvin, Jackie, schneep and all the others at the Dragonbone really gave him some Motivation That he dosen't needs to be afraid of things. Jairsolas Still needs ⏃ bit of time because he just got free out of King Anti's Grip but yet is still very much afraid of him. And Yeah :> ⟟ think that's all ⟟ wanted to say, ⟟ wanted to write something for Marvin also but ⟟ forgot what ^^" uhhh yee.

It wouldn't let me post this in the comments because my comment is to long TwT ⟟ hope ⟟ can ask this in the question box if not ⟟ guess ⟟ have to do this separately.

Hope you did drink and eat something today! Also hope you looked into the mirror and said "Damn I'm looking fabulous today" because you are fabulous ^^)>♡ sending positive vibes over to you and ⏃ magic Day/Night/Evening for you to have

With Greetings: Hunter Your Old Chap 😉

Ayyy Hunter, good to see you again. Glad you liked the last Fantasy Masks chapter! Sorry for not getting to your ask right away, I was offline.

Anyway, I love how you're imagining more based on the story, like Chase figuring out makeup and a possible future confrontation between JJ and the King. It's so cool to hear about people thinking about my work beyond the chapters itself ^-^ I will give no spoilers for the future, haha. Though I don't write one-shots as often as I used to, I will keep that idea filed away just in case I get the time to. And yeah, I'm trying to have Chase and all the other characters evolve over time—give them character arcs and stuff. I'm proud of Chase so far :) And JJ, too, though he still has a ways to go before he's fully free of the King and the King's effects on him.

I did eat and drink, I just had dinner actually! Thank you for calling me fabulous, too. Right back at you, and you have a good day/night/evening too :)

#asks answered #brokentimewatch

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hamphobicbasil · 3 years

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Could u elaborate about the dsmp story being bad? Not a rabid/brain dead fan, just genuinely curious and I enjoy reading people's rants lolol

oh you dont know the floodgates you just opened

a few things:

1. despite not liking the creators of the dsmp anymore, I don't actually hate most of them. [the ones that are particularly unsavory fall outside of this of course] so all that I'm saying i truly mean in a critical sense towards the story, its also just all purely my opinion as someone who enjoys fictional and fantasy stories and who like criticizing works to see what it does well and what it doesn't do well

2. for clarification I'm going to use the c![name] to indicate when I'm talking about the characters. Don't get me wrong, I think its annoying too but its the only way I'm gonna be able to write this thing without getting something across the wrong way yknow?

3. I stopped watching the streams after November 16th, [save for one Techno one but I closed out after a particularly bad story beat lol] and so all information coming afterward is all second hand from either me seeing people on twt talk abt it or people dming me. All i really know is up to dream's imprisonment and some stuff past that.

4. This is mostly aimed towards the "main" story, so stuff abt the badlands, eggpire, and whatnot are briefly mentioned.

anyways uh, i'll try to be brief but also include enough information to get why i feel the way i do on some stuff across

A. Performances Alright obviously these people are all streamers, so obviously they might not be the best actors, and hell no one is even asking that of them. However, when you're telling a story that's based on the audio with the visuals kinda coming to a second, it's gotta be pretty strong. I will say, some of the best actors in my opinion are Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo. I would include Ranboo but I never watched any of his story bits or story streams so I can't say much. Wilbur and Tommy are excellent in selling their character's emotions and feelings, when I watch the stream I don't feel like I'm watching an rp but an actual thought-out story yknow? And one of my favorite Tubbo examples was in the Hog Hunt video whenever Techno attacked him, he sounded genuinely afraid and I believed everything his character was feeling.

However, unfortunately, not everyone is gonna be that good. And I'm gonna say it; Dream and Techno have to be the worst out of the entire cast. I understand Techno's whole character is this monotoned badass, however, when really emotional moments hit I feel like he never lets that fall, and a lot of intense moments just ring hollow. And I'm sorry but Dream's attempts at being intimidating leave me laughing whenever I watch them. It feels like he watched that one scene from The Marriage with Adam Driver and Scarlett Johannson and said "Oh this is what good acting looks like! Just yelling." His whole "I don't give a FUCK about Spirit!" speech isn't as great as people keep making it out to be. And whenever he tries to act coy when being a villain it feels like a guy reading the script for the first time, a bit like he's trying too hard. I have more problems with his character but his portrayal certainly doesn't help.

Everyone else is fine, and I don't feel strongly either way about a lot of them.

B. The "Lore" Okay first off, I can't be the only one who thinks it's silly that people are calling the dsmp's story "lore" when it's not, it's the fucking story. Lore indicates backstory to either the world or the characters, which a lot of the streams don't really pertain to. This is a really petty section but god it's a weird pet peeve of mine.

Other than the misusage of "lore" vs "story", the actual lore and world-building of the world are so lackluster that new elements can be introduced whenever and it often feels cluttered or not well thought out at all. And here's the thing, I feel like if the writers sat down just for a few minutes to establish world rules and general history, a lot of this could be solved! but so much is made up on the spot that it starts to feel like they're grabbing at straws to keep people invested, trying to reach that next high and intense story beat without actually earning it.

C. The Egg / Eggpire This is a pretty minor note since I was only invested in the Egg storyline for a little bit, but god it's so underused that it's almost embarrassing. Bad has provided this super interesting antagonistic force that's infecting the SMP, can control people, and who one of our main character is immune to, and it's just never used or even talked about again? Now I understand if he wanted to keep it to a side storyline only, however, to introduce this borderline eldritch creature and force within the world and then never have it dealt with is so weird.

D. The Writing Oh boy this is. kinda a big one. Now I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty obvious I have a bias for the Wilbur writing over the current team [that consisting of Dream, Quackity, and Tommy mostly]. I don't this his writing is perfect by any means, the characters constantly bringing up traitors got obnoxious after a while, and writing Hamilton but in Minecraft really isn't the modern Shakespeare or anything. However, I think his exploration of characters and plot progression was a lot more thought out and well planned, like he actually had two brain cells behind the story yknow? The current team I think fails to be as emotional or even impactful, things happened too fast and my god was everything drowned in angst for so long.

Don't get me wrong, you gotta have your characters face hardships to make them reach their goal believable, but some of the shit they put the characters through just felt like too much. From c!Tubbo's constant comparison to c!Schlatt [who btw, fucking ordered his death and kept him from his friends in a nation he felt trapped in] and on a side note, i kinda really fucking dislike the "c!Schlatt dad!!" au's or the au's where c!Tubbo inherits some of Schlatt's features, it would be like c!Tommy getting a c!Dream mask after his exile, it's feels so weird yet people eat that shit up for some reason.

But god, did c!Tommy get the brunt of it all and in retrospect after his final death, it kinda feels really fucking gross. Now obviously, I'm not trusting any of these people to write decent mental health representation, but c!Tommy's PTSD and how it was explored was just degrading. [Specifically the scene in that one Techno stream where he saw the final control room from the first war, and had a flashback / panic attack where he started calling out for c!Dream. I understand this is an actual thing people with PTSD will experience, but it felt so fucking stereotypical it got on my nerves. I actually had to close out of the stream because it made me feel sick, fiction shouldn't leave you feeling that way.] And don't get me started on how they basically reused the formula from the previous arc. [Problem introduced -> Tensions rise as things start to fall apart -> Big confrontation -> Exile -> Return from Exile -> Blowing up L'Manberg, again.]

And speaking of characters-

E. Character Arcs, or the lack of them In my genuine opinion, some of these characters' arcs are so disappointing. Especially c!Tommy's. I'm not one to believe that he was a "selfish" character or anything, however, his goals were simply set on his discs and maybe c!Tubbo, he didn't have much outside that. However, L'Manberg gave him something to care about, he gave up his discs for it and he fought for it tooth and nail, I think it taught him to open up to others and trust more. It was a great character arc for him to have, seeing him still fight even after his first exile alongside c!Wilbur, to return safely to the nation that he and his found family had built.

But then his second exile happened, and I feel like all of that was undone.

c!Tommy's exile genuinely pisses me off for so many reasons. It's not that characters can't have their low points after reaching a major change or feeling like they've "completed" their arcs or anything, but it's more of the fact that it seems like he's never going to heal that feels like a spit in the face, especially to people who might have had setbacks like that before. Progress isn't linear, sometimes things happen and you get knocked back down, it can take a while to get back up, but I don't think c!Tommy's character is ever going to be allowed to get back up. From c!Dream, who pretty much was a constant abuser in his life, killing him then reviving him, and his still fractured relationship with c!Tubbo, which by the way I have a had time believing they would still be friends after all that happened, it feels like he can never get a win and it's generally kinda a shit way to treat your characters who have been abused. Of course, not all abused characters are going to get happy endings, I'm not trying to dictate that they all should, but c!Tommy deserves one and the fact that it's so obscure feels shitty.

Side note: we still don't have a canon reason to give a shit abt the discs. Like I'm sorry but without some sorta connection to the MacGuffin why should we give a shit about him getting them other than "he wants them lol". Like hell, I would even accept the classic "they were the last gifts from his parents" or something, but we still don't have a reason.

c!Tubbo also lacks a fulfilling arc as well, from someone who started out as a yes man, he has progressed a bit into having his own interests first, but besides that sometimes his character makes me so. depressed. He's easily one of the most pushed around and hated characters within the story, all for being a kid who didn't know what to do and he's in the same vein as c!Tommy; these kids can't get a break. Also, his anti-violence beliefs morphing into the "lets kill c!Techno lol!" bit was so out of place and without proper build-up it was like. what. And now he's building nukes?? god c!Tubbo makes me so sad because he's kicked around constantly and never given a chance to grow.

Another small note, I also don't really enjoy c!Techno at all. Besides the previously stated reasons of lack of emotions when they're really needed, I find his character to be weirdly pretentious. He talks as if he's constantly been betrayed and hurt but I personally, don't see it? Like, I think one of the main examples was the Pogtopia vs. Manberg war, yknow he wanted to end the government but they just reinstated it after they won = c!Techno upset. But this doesn't make sense to me because why did he think otherwise? The entire time c!Tommy had talked about taking back their nation and starting again, so the fact that c!Techno suddenly thought there would be a sudden change is, to put it bluntly, kinda fucking stupid. I don't want to say that he "plays the victim" or anything because that feels a bit harsh, but his character feels so far up his own ass that I can't enjoy him.

I have a major grip with c!Dream as well, but that's getting it's own fucking section.

F. L'Manberg This is a quick note before we get into the, forgive me for this, endgame, of this entire rant, since the next two sections are tied together. But god, L'Manberg makes me upset because it feels like they gave up on it.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that it is supposed to be c!Wilbur's "unfinished symphony", the thing that destroyed a once charismatic and widely loved man, his attempt at power that utterly ruined him. But the fact that it just got blown up in the end after everything and left to rot felt like such a waste of time. From the first war, to Pogtopia, to even c!Tommy's exile, it all felt fucking worthless in the end, and the story is actively closer to how it was when it started now more than ever. I wished it was actually allowed to exist and continue to be a peaceful place in what is a chaotic world, but no it was just snuffed out because why dedicate to this concept of finding others you can band together with and feel safe. fuck that noise apparently?

G. The Villains Now villain-wise, I'm only talking about c!Dream [during the first war], c!Schlatt, and c!Wilbur. And believe it or not, this is actually mostly positive.

Now I'm not gonna lie, c!Dream as a staring antagonist wasn't bad actually, he posed a genuine and threatening opposition to L'Manberg, even if we didn't know his real intentions or motivations as to why he was against it. He's lucky in this sense because he didn't have to be good, he had to be passable. If anything, he felt more like an anti-hero than a tyrant or traditional villain, and my god do I wish he kept this theme going forward.

Now quick disclaimer, I don't like JSchlatt as much as the next guy, he's an adult man who should know better than to joke about some sensitive topics and act the way that he does. But the one thing I'll ever give him is that damn, was he a good actor for his character.

Now here's the thing, c!Schlatt wasn't particularly deep at all. He had no real motivations behind his exile of c!Wilbur and c!Tommy other than getting competition out of the way, had no reason to act the way that he did and yknow? that's fine. The reason why he worked was from his performance alone, he was actually intimidating. When he came onto the stream and was doing his typical bad guy stuff, it was actually intense to see what he would do. Whenever he would almost catch c!Tommy back in Manberg, whenever he would begin to pressure c!Tubbo, it put you on the edge of your seat and it felt like everything would change at the drop of a pen. He's a villain to be a villain, and this works out because he's just charismatic and well put together enough to make it interesting, even without the backstory or motives.

c!Wilbur however, is much more tragic, and the best villain of the story. He essentially was the "mentor turned evil" trope and it felt terrible watching him descend into madness, unable to trust barely anyone except for c!Techno and c!Tommy. Hell, in the end I think he still cared about them both, despite losing everything. Sure, he blew up L'Manberg, but there was still a smidge of the old c!Wilbur in there made everything he did feel melancholic. His death at the hands of his father after achieving his final wish was chilling, and something I still think about.

Until yknow, Ghostbur came back way too soon to let people feel his loss as a character within that world. And then he got revived, pretty much-undoing everything that moment meant for his character lol.

And then there's the worst one:

H. Dream. I'm going to be completely honest, c!Dream is one of the main reasons why I dislike the current dsmp stuff so much. Outside of his actions as a person, the way Dream decided to write his character as this overpowered madman of the dsmp really just. destroyed any intrigue that he could've had. Perhaps this is from my growing dislike towards him, manifesting into a bias towards his character, but god I cannot fathom why people try to insist he's interesting when he has as much depth as a fucking puddle.

And here's the thing, I'm not even entirely against c!Dream being a villain, hell I think he would've been great as an anti-hero if anything. Make him sympathetic but not through c!George to get your precious "DNF" points or anything, but show him actually caring about the people within the dsmp, including c!Tommy and c!Tubbo. This would make his rival status with them just a bit more complicated, sure they're enemies, however, he doesn't want to hurt or kill them, and there's still a level of friendship there that keeps them bonded when things get super bad. This could've been super interesting to see, the first villain of the story receiving a sorta redemption arc then descending into madness as he started to fixate on being a god. This is all how I feel personally, but god do I feel like it would've been better than his current character, and hell would've worked with how he was during the Pogtopia arc, before the war that is. I'm not trying to tell Dream how to write his own character, but there are so many other ways he could've done the madman seeking to become god rather then. whatever the hell we got.

Because instead, we got this power-mad asshole who does things... because he can? And that's one of my major issues: he tries to surround his character in mystery to make him "intriguing" but it's kinda like c!Techno, it comes off as pretentious. Not only that, but you cannot keep waving around this mystery of a backstory without ever actually revealing it. I know the story isn't over, but c!Dream is effectively at his lowest point, now would be the time to reveal his backstory. But no just keep it in the dark and keep everyone guessing, that's totally fun and not at all tiring and annoying. (sarcasm, if anyone needs it)

And back to his performance, he doesn't sell this aloof, cynical and strategic warrior that has perfected the blade or some shit, he comes off as some angry guy yelling on reddit. which i don't need to tell you, isn't intimidating. It feels like he's trying to have c!Schlatt's intimidation combined with c!Wilbur's depth, but instead he's like a little brother who's trying to hard to mimic his older brother and is kinda embarrassing himself.

but other then that i dont feel too strongly abt the dsmp lol

but seriously, these are the main complaints I have abt the story tbh, I could probably talk about more but I wont because man. this is probably gonna get me in trouble if any of the hyper-dsmp fans actually read it.

#wow this is long #txt #anti dsmp #anti dream #dsmp crit #dsmp critical #yeah im tagging it i dont give a shit #dream crit #dream critical #the story is shit yo!

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gotinterest · 3 years

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On the topic of the blind-spot and how that should've been a weakness/issue - Honestly, I wish mxtx would have let HC be more vulnerable in general. Some of my fav hualian scenes were of XL also wanting to protect him (and it surprised him every time), but I wish there would've been more shown in that regard? I don't know how to describe it, I guess I was dissatisfied with how his issues/trauma were never really addressed (ex. the cave and XL noticing how he depicted himself as ugly and deformed but it's never brought up again). I do feel like hualian's relationship was eventually more balanced (which I enjoy!) but sometimes, I'm just bummed out by the hyper-focus on XL's trauma while that of others lacked - which, sure, the fic follows XL and that's why. But still, a very restrictive writing choice. (Like, for example, I find it so fascinating that HC was traumatized by XL's trauma - the altar - which kickstarted his growth as a ghost while he disassociates with the things that happened to himself/doesn't like to linger on them and other such things. So much potential to explore. I guess that's why I primarily consume fan content centered around hc, lol.)

It's probably also why I enjoy the donghua quite a lot - we don't see HC solely from XL's tinted view and as such, he comes off as real and vulnerable and relatable. I hope they won't change that for his og!form.

Anyway, sorry for the rambling! I just enjoy your content a lot and wanted to get this off my chest, lmao (btw, on the Mary Sue allegations, there was a lot of ruckus on twt recently about someone calling XL a Mary Sue, ppl being offended etc... and seeing your tags 😂 You are absolutely right! I'm the same, what makes him so engaging for me is the story surrounding him rather than he himself - although, Calamity!XL was a good flavor 👀)

Yeah, this. Although I DO like Xie Lian as a character because MXTX gave him some rough edges and allowed him to go through some interesting development. He's the good kind of Mary Sue where he has enough of his own personality, while still working as a self-insert.

I'm really the same about wishing Hua Cheng's trauma was more explored. I've been on the search for some good HC POV fics that aren't just a stream of horniness. I also wanted more chances for Xie Lian to take care of Hua Cheng, tbh. I also wish that Hua Cheng's fixation on keeping Xie Lian from any kind of harm was addressed as unhealthy, instead of being romanticized as part of his "eternal faith".

I really hungered in tgcf for there to be a transitory psychological moment where Hua Cheng internally goes from viewing himself as an "eternally faithful believer" to a "devoted, but equal, partner". Like his obsession and crush on Xie Lian was based on a deified view he had of Xie Lian where he is the believer and Xie Lian is the god. There is an imbalance there and its kind of unhealthy.

It's not that Hua Cheng needs to see Xie Lian as flawed, because he HAS seen his flaws. But rather for there to be a point where he realizes Xie Lian is just a guy, just as much as he is just a guy. Where, after hanging out with Xie Lian and having him as an actual friend, he falls in love with Xie Lian again, but this time as his friend who actually knows him. Xie Lian is no longer "his god, Xie Lian", but "his friend, Xie Lian". Y'know? And it's a different, healthier kind of love based on an actual, personal relationship where his self-worth is not centered upon how well he can protect and serve Xie Lian.

The reason why Xie Lian's trauma is Hua Cheng's trauma, is because he places his entire self-worth on serving and protecting Xie Lian. He needs to have an aha moment where he realizes that he is worth saving simply because every person is worth saving. He doesn't have to be the best most amazing ghost king to be worthy of Xie Lian. "There are truly no gods" "All things are equal".

#tgcf #hua cheng

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dogcircle-scans · 4 years

Text

Natsume Yuujinchou: “Cookies to the Forest’s Entrance” Summary (Chapter 105)

Our cuties are back with more adventures!

I was trying to get this out within a week of the chapter’s release, but life happened so it took a while. ;w; Anyways, this is our first chapter after the 4 month hiatus! Perhaps to serve as a breather after the super intense Homura arc, we have a relatively short chapter (only 24 pages compared to the usual 30-40 pages) about Natsume, Tanuma and Nyanko-sensei stumbling into an old house in the middle of the forest. In some ways, this chapter felt more like a special chapter rather than a main one (don’t expect any plot or character development for this one, especially not information on the grandpa), but surprisingly, it also helps wrap up some stuff in the Homura arc (firstly, DID NYANKO GET HIS COOKIES, secondly, our poor cinnamon roll pure boi needs a hug ;w;). It still gives me the usual NatsuYuu feels, so no complaints from me! Also (I’m sorry for plugging), but if you enjoy what we do, and don’t mind giving a couple of dollars,

please buy me a coffee or two. At the moment I’m using my Kofi funds to buy raws of the manga for our scan uses, but after losing my Tumblr account, I haven’t had any new donations, so my tank is running empty (especially after buying the raws for Volume 25). ;w; If you have some spare cash and would like to help support our scan work, please help donate. You have my eternal gratitude. TwT As always, special thanks to Jessica for proofreading this for me on a Sunday!

- Niji

Chapter 105: “Cookies to the Forest’s Entrance”

While walking home from school, Tanuma accidentally steps onto a cookie, hearing it crack under his foot. He spots another cookie in the distance, and begins finding more and more of them the further he looks.

Tanuma: (It leads into the forest.) // This is just like Hansel and Gretel. / I wonder who dropped these…

Tanuma: ! // Natsume? Natsume: Huh… // Tanuma!? / Why are you in a place like this? Tanuma: You too, Natsume, what are you doing here…

Tanuma asks if Natsume might have been the one to drop the cookies, but it turns out Natsume didn’t notice the cookies at all. After recognising the cookies, he runs off, following its trail. Tanuma runs after him as well. At the end of the trail, they find a little house.

Natsume: Ah. // In a place like this… / Is it a vacant house? Tanuma: Hey, Natsume… / Do you know what these cookies are? / You looked like you were looking for something.

Natsume: …It’s nothing big. / I guess you can say I was just curious… Tanuma: Curious? Natsume: ——These cookies are…

Natsume recounts what happened shortly after he and Nyanko-sensei returned from Homura. Touko and Shigeru were extremely glad that he was able to find Nyanko-sensei, and gave Nyanko-sensei the cookies that they had kept aside for him (if you remember at the start of the arc, Nyanko-sensei wanted some pretty cookies but ran off before Natsume went to buy them). Nyanko-sensei was super happy about them too. However, when Natsume returned home from school that day, Nyanko-sensei was nowhere to be found in his room. Thinking that Nyanko-sensei might have ran off to play as usual, and that he might be going beyond Yatsuhara…

Natsume: I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I figured it would be interesting to try following Sensei at least once… Tanuma: … I see… Natsume: ...Don’t laugh. Tanuma: Haha, I’m sorry. / So, at the end of these cookies will be…

Yes, it is Nyanko-sensei.

Natsume: Found him! Tanuma: Fufu. / There’s a hole in his bag. / So that’s how the cookies fell out.

Tanuma: *sigh…* ……Natsume? Natsume: ——As I thought, I’m still a little worried about Sensei. Tanuma: Ah… / That’s right, at the White Mist Pottery* Village, he caught the eye of a strange Collector……

[*I’m gonna translate “Hakka Pottery” to “White Mist Pottery”, since I can pretty much confirm that ‘Hakka’ is not a family name lol. So, for localization sake, I am translating the whole term.]

Natsume: …There was someone who reassured me, saying, “I’ll take care of this incident, so you don’t have to worry.” // He isn’t someone who would say things without thinking, so I did think that things would be alright now. / But when I didn’t see Sensei around like this, I can’t help but feel anxious. // ...But I’m glad.

Natsume looks around.

Natsume: I guess he found this vacant house and has been idling around in it. / …Seriously, he even brought his favourite sake and sake bottle with him. Tanuma: Wow… // It doesn’t look like anyone is here, and it’s quite wide. Rather than a residence, this is more like… an arbor?

Tanuma: It’s old, / but it’s pretty. // It’s perfect as a hideaway / or as a secret base.

Natsume: A secret base… / Then we’ve done something bad, haven’t we? Since Sensei has been secretly having fun here… Nyanko: *open!* Hm hm. / Natsume and… the Tanuma brat. Natsume: Ah! Nyanko-sensei! // I’m sor- Nyanko: You came here with perfect timing. Help me out. Natsume: Huh!?

Nyanko-sensei explains that he discovered this place while chasing butterflies during his patrol. He figured that it would be the perfect place for him to take his afternoon naps, and was just in the midst of checking it out. The only issue is that the place is rather dusty, and Nyanko-sensei doesn’t have the spare time to clean the place up as he likes.

Nyanko: I’ve brought some dust cloths with me. / Just wet them in the river over there. Natsume: What— Nyanko: If we don’t at least clean this veranda, you two won’t be able to idle around either, right?

And just like that, the boys got to work.

Natsume: Geez~~~ *wipe wipe wipe wipe* // This house may be vacant, but it might have an owner, so don’t just do whatever you like, Sensei. Nyanko: Come on! / Put your backs into your wiping! Boys: Phew~~ // We’re finally doneee—

Completely exhausted, they plopped down onto the veranda, and had their rest. And as they closed their eyes—

Natsume: (What is this?) / (There’s some sort of sweet fragrance coming from somewhere.) // (Is it Sensei’s cookies?) / (No…) // (Maybe it’s flowers.) / (——It’s very) // (kind and sweet——)

Soon enough, Natsume notices that evening has already arrived, so they prepare to leave.

Nyanko: By the way, how did you two learn of this place? Natsume: How? Because your cookies had fallen out, Sensei. Nyanko: WHAT!? // *stunned* There’s a huge hole… Natsume: Shall we pick them up on our way home, Sensei?

Nyanko: …… / No, just leave them as they are. // We still have lots of maintenance to do. / Tomorrow, you two will follow this trail back to my afternoon napping spot. We will gather there.

[Did Nyanko just… sacrifice his cookies!? Omg!]

Natsume: “Maintenance”……? Tanuma: Haha, I’m sure birds would have eaten them by tomorrow, Sensei.

The following day, the two boys find the trail of cookies and arrive at the empty house.

Natsume: We’re here. Nyanko: You two are so slow! / You’re gonna be devoting yourselves to the maintenance of my drinking party spot! Natsume: Wasn’t this your afternoon napping spot? Tanuma: ——Huh? Natsume. / There’s something on the pillar there…

Indeed, on the pillar was a hand-written note, saying,

“Thank you for wiping the place. Please enjoy yourselves here.”

Natsume: Uwah! / It’s probably from the owner. (S- So embarrassing…) Tanuma: I wonder if it’s okay to just take advantage of their offer like that. / Even though we entered as we liked… Nyanko: Stop complaining! Today, we are wiping the sliding doors! / I want the moonlight and the evening sun to shine on it beautifully.

Natsume: …As an apology for Sensei coming in as he liked, we should at least clean the frame of the sliding doors. Tanume: Let’s do that. Natsume: You help too, Sensei. Nyanko: Hmph. / Just this should be enough, right?

Or so they thought.

Nyanko: *rip…*

Stunned by the tear, the two boys inspect the damage. Natsume asks if it can be fixed, and Tanuma figures that, if they bring some sliding door paper and glue tomorrow, it should do the trick. Natsume returns to the note on the pillar, and quickly jots down an apology.

“Sorry, we tore the sliding door. We will fix it tomorrow.”

Back at home, Natsume asks Shigeru for some sliding door paper.

Shigeru: ...Hm? Sliding door? Natsume: Yes… // Can I have enough for one grid? / We were staying at a place and we kind of… tore it. Shigeru: Oh. / Were you at the Tanuma’s? Natsume: Ah, no. Shigeru: It’s okay to be mischievous, but you have to keep it in moderation.

Shigeru: If it’s at home, you can break as many as you like, // but always make sure to apologize, alright, Takashi? Natsume: …… Yes.

[Shigeru is such a good papa ;w;]

As Natsume leaves the next day, Touko stops him, handing him some strawberries.

Touko: Here, give them these strawberries as an apology. // *rustle!* Do your best! Natsume: ——… // Thank you so much. Nyanko: Oh~~~ These strawberries look tasty~~~ Natsume: They are not for you, Sensei.

[And now we have our sweet mama TwT]

They continue to follow the trail of cookies (how have they not been eaten by animals yet??), during which Natsume asks if the owner might be there. Nyanko-sensei promptly answers that he doesn’t need to care so much about an uninhabited empty house.

Natsume: Don’t you start, Sensei. Tanuma: Oi, Natsume—

The three of them head to the house, and find that a new note has been attached to the pillar.

“Thank you for cleaning the sliding doors. I have a request. Could you help me plant these seeds in the garden?”

Natsume: Huh? // By ‘seeds’, do they mean this? // …They don’t sound angry. Tanuma: You fix the sliding door, Natsume. / I’ll clear the weeds over there and plant this. Natsume: Thank you, Tanuma.

Natsume: …… // (The owner of this house sure is strange…) // (Rather, it feels like…) // Hey… Nyanko-sensei…

Nyanko: HEY! / ENOUGH OF THAT! HURRY UP AND BRING OUT THE PAPER! // Let’s paste it down right away. It’s time to repair my afternoon napping spot! Natsume: ——… Yeah. // You’re right.

The three of them set down to work, and finally finished everything. Once again, exhausted, they plop onto the veranda and napped.

Natsume: (Nevertheless…) // (This is such a comfortable place——)

In his dreams, Natsume hears a man speak, and the thoughts of someone else…

Man: “——Hey there. Sorry to keep you waiting.” ??: ——It’s alright. // Always, / forever, // I will be here, waiting for you.

Natsume wakes up.

Note: As an apology, we have left some strawberries here. Tanuma: It’s quite a mysterious arbor. // It’s like we are exchanging letters with the house owner. Natsume: That’s true. Tanuma: ——Hey, Natsume. Natsume: Hm?

Tanuma: ...Nah. / See you tomorrow. Natsume: Yeah. // See you tomorrow.

And that night, Natsume had a dream.

Natsume: (There was a gentle-looking man sitting alone on top of the veranda.) / (And around him, perhaps it was the flowering season… There were so many colors as though it was overflowing with it.) Man: Ah, my beloved arbor. // I can only visit you once every year. / I can’t even maintain or take care of you. Please forgive this useless owner of yours. // This year, I’ve been busy with my family business as well. / The days where I come here provide emotional support, so I always look forward to it. // Ah, / the view here is so beautiful. // I built this here hoping that someday, / I could bring my wife, my children, and my family here to view this scenery. // But after so long, it has always just been me.

Man: I’m sorry. Even though I built you, // I’m always here alone. // I’m sorry I couldn’t make it lively. // ——Someday, // should // guests arrive here——

Natsume wakes up. The following day, he meets up with Tanuma again, and they follow the trail of cookies into the forest. Natsume wonders about all the strange things involving this situation, about the forest that was so close to his house and yet he doesn’t know much about it, about these cookies that still look great even after so long, and about the mysterious owner who never shows his face. And when they arrive at the arbor—

Flowers had bloomed across the garden.

Tanuma: What!? / Flowers!? // …This can’t all be / the seeds I planted yesterday…? // Just how did… Natsume: ——I’m guessing // this arbor made all of them bloom.

Tanuma: Huh… SFX: *rustle*

The one who wrote notes to thank them for cleaning the floor and the sliding doors might have been the arbor itself. With its memories of bygone days, it’s always been here inside the forest, waiting.

Natsume: You finally have guests coming here. / But I’m sorry that it was us.

This was such an old, old little arbor, and it felt as though it was mustering the last of its power to show them this scenery.

Nyanko: Ooh, there are strawberry flowers here too. Natsume: Tanuma. / Why don’t we take a seat at the veranda and look at this scenery for a bit? Tanuma: Huh? Natsume: Somehow, / I feel like we won’t be able to come here again tomorrow.

Tanuma: ———……… // I see——… Natsume: (——I wonder if there are buildings that can become ayakashi too.)

That was the mysterious arbor that Nyanko-sensei found. It was only a short while, but it was where two people, one beast, and another certain someone, had spent their time together. As they take a seat on the veranda, Natsume recalls the words that the owner had said in his dream.

Man: ——Someday, // should guests arrive here…

Man: Make sure to welcome them with lots of flowers, alright?

It was a beautiful and lovely, secret arbor.

“Cookies to the Forest’s Entrance” END

#natsume yuujinchou #natsume's book of friends #summary #tanuma kaname #Natsume Takashi #Nyanko sensei #natsume manga spoilers

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maerrybom · 4 years

Note

Prompt: EVA found a funny/embarrassing footage of an ally (while they don’t even know it exists!), and she wants to share with you character(s).

this is pretty short & I’m only doing two of my ocs since it’s hard to come up with different scenarios TwT - found in masterlist

Maye’s Route

“Here’s the report about the broken vending machine, EVA.”

“It’s broken again?” EVA questioned, “this is happening too often. I wonder why?”

Shrugging in response, I handed her the report and the AI butler immediately looked through it, thanking me afterwards. EVA then ordered one of the Adams robots over to us and asked for any video footage recorded by one of the campus’ CCTV cameras where the broken vending machines were located. The robot emitted a projection as we both watched the footage in silence, trying to see what may have been the cause of the damage.

As we watched through, I saw that the video was recorded last night at 12AM. Why would anyone be up at that time to wreck a bunch of vending machines? Then, I saw two familiar figures and immediately sighed in disappointment. It was none other than Luminous and Finger, seeming to be sneaking around until they reached the vending machine.

Luminous inserted his coins and pressed a couple of buttons, before bending over to reach for his purchased goods while Finger stood behind him, keeping watch for any authorities. All of a sudden, a wandering Adams robot detected their presence and instantly floated its way towards the targets. Out of sheer panic, Finger yelped in surprise and tripped backwards onto Luminous, causing the poor boy to smash his head against the machine.

“Ah...” It seems that EVA and I arrived to a conclusion at the same time.

Unexpectedly, Finger then grabbed Luminous by the waist and threw him over his shoulder, abandoned what they came for and made the run for it. Luminous was holding his head in pain, not realising he was practically being carried like a sack of potatoes. That’s where the footage ended. I shook my head and chuckled under my breath, amused at the scene played before us. I should’ve expected this.

“Should I report this to Professor Manstein, EVA?” I asked.

“Those boys shouldn’t be up after curfew, but I’m willing to look away since it would be quite embarrassing if anyone were to find out about this.” EVA replied as she smiled at me. “So It’s up to you, Maye.”

I suppose I’m willing to keep my mouth shut too.

Elena’s Route

After getting scolded by Professor Manstein for the umpteenth time this week, I was forbidden from working with the gear department for a month and got detention because I’ve accidentally caused an explosion on the Student Union club base while fixing a malfunctioned security robot. Well, I wasn’t exactly fixing the damn robot. I thought it’d be funny to tamper with its system for a bit. Just a little.

“Ugh... This is so unfair!” I screamed into the pillow, flailing both my legs & arms in agitation.

I felt my mecha, Chip, float around my head and tried to see what’s wrong with me. I heard him beeping in concern and confusion, but I ignored his presence and continued to mockingly weep into my pillow. It was just a harmless prank and no one got hurt anyways. If they didn’t trust me to be near machines or any form of explosives, why did they ask me to fix the stupid thing in the first place?!

Bzz... Bzz...

“...What now?” My head shot up and turned towards my phone that was buzzing on my bedside table.

I grumpily grabbed my phone and glared at the screen, and felt my features relax once I saw EVA’s name pop up. I know that she might scold me, but she’s one of the only people that understand how I feel. Once I entered my password to see her message, I surprisingly didn’t see a long essay of how I acted immaturely and should’ve been more careful about the well-being of others and my own as well. But instead, I saw an attachment of a short video along with a message that said:

“You already know what I’m going to say about what happened today, but here’s a reminder that everyone makes mistakes. I also know you won’t delete this even if I asked you to, so please keep this to yourself. Take care Elena. - EVA”

A subtle smile reached my features and felt the irritation wash away as Chip gently floated over my head, trying to see what’s calmed me down. Then, my thumb pressed onto the play button of the video and laid my cheek onto my palm in wonder. As the video played, it was a recording taken from one of the CCTV cameras found by the fountain at the campus.

Professor Manstein seemed to be disciplining one of the students as they fiddled with their thumbs in shame. I remembered him to be one of my seniors from the gear department, shocked that someone like him can get in trouble when he seemed awfully nice all the time. Then, my eyes switched over to another student behind them that was frantically riding a motor cycle and was screaming at everyone to move away.

Some students stumbled over in surprise and unfortunately Professor Manstein failed to notice that. Her senior, however, noticed and instinctively pushed the Professor out of the way, causing him to fall backwards and land into the fountain. Gasping in response, I stifled my laughter with the palm of my hand as I watched the senior in such a state after he realised what he has done. Professor Manstein...You look like a wet old fart! Haha!

Replaying the video over and over again, I continued to laugh in both amazement and triumph. There was no way I was going to ever delete this!

I guess I’ll keep this a secret. This might be useful later on.

#dragon raja oc #dragon raja writing #dragon raja characters #dragon raja #my writing #prompts #ask prompts #asks #maye #elena

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flying-elliska · 5 years

Note

that said, of course calling David an abuser etc. is wrong. I agree with that, but saying that he didn't do anything wrong is, well, wrong. he's an adult, she is a child who had her almost entire fandom turn on her when she was worried about the actors. she later had her favourite actors call her disgusting and a piece of shit for said worry. also, everything they said was being said by the actors in those videos. it was not her/their fault that those videon weren't the entire story 2/idk

furthermore, I wanna reiterate that I mean no disrespect. but we are allowed to criticise the shows we watch. skam and the skam france fandoms do that more than any other fandoms out there due to the nature of the show. we’ve been doing it since 2016. we’re allowed to criticise shows who make ableist actions (basing this on what my followers who are how or deaf on twt have said). by doing that, that criticism often falls on the creators, because who else? 3/idk

anyway, I really hope u believe me when I say no hate hahhaha. your post just didn’t entirely sit well with me as a bipolar person who’s had to distance myself from skam france due to their handling of that storyline, and in fear of what they will do in the future. and as someone who saw a 14 year old girl get death threats. did u also know an account with 27k followers a circulating a “block list” of accounts to block on twt because they criticised a show? yeah, it feels 4/idk

like the skam fandom is turning into a cult and it’s very harmful and toxic for a lot of people’s mental health. adults (because 90% of the accounts I saw bullying them were women 25+) bullying children over a tv show that is specifically targeted towards teens is scary to see. not saying u can’t enjoy skam if you’re an adult, but they should realise that that’s not the target demographic. as a last thing, yeah, a creator can’t confront all criticism 5/idk

a creator must realise that if he or she is making a show targeted to teens handling high school plot lines, the first priority should be to make sure that part of your supporter base or followers are safe within your fandom. david could have adressed the bullying without addressing the criticism. that’s where I believe he was wrong. anyway, I really hope I didn’t come off as rude!! and I hope u read this all the way through hahaha. have a nice evening!! 6/idk(6)

Hey anon ! Don’t worry, you don’t come off as rude ! I’m not exactly sure of what your point is, though. Most of David’s posts lately were about discouraging the bullying, from what I’ve seen. From how I understood his posts, that was the main reason he spoke up. And I think he had a right to say that there is a tendency to overreact on social media, which we should all be more aware and mindful of.

Some fans’s behavior is really fucked up, especially when they are older, they should know better, I think we can agree on that. There is zero excuse for sending death threats or any sorts of threats. Also that this fandom should be better at both producing and tolerating constructive, nuanced criticism. I saw a lot of Deaf people say they really, really liked the representation this season, and that it was disappointing how people swept it under the rug because of the love drama. Maybe some other Deaf people disagree. There should be a space for a healthy discussion of that and for people to listen more. I’ve been pretty damn critical this whole season so I really believe it when I say criticism should have a space. But there is a difference between criticizing a fictional show and attacking people.

Everyone involved in setting up the rumors surrounding drama should have checked their facts before spreading them, because those accusations are extremely severe, truncated interviews or not (that said the person who edited the interview like that really should have known better). This is not like criticising a plotline, it’s about real people. Also being worried about someone doesn’t give you a pass to insult their friends on their behalf. A friend sent me this info when it first broke out and I waited to know more because it sounded super iffy and heavy and I believe that’s an attitude more people should cultivate instead of jumping into the fray and reacting right away. No matter their age - if they are too young to be held accountable, they’re too young to be on the Internet unsupervised - but nobody deserved a wave of hate either. In general there should be a lot more compassion in a fandom that prides itself on valuing love and understanding.

The thing is, in the end, I don’t believe David is responsible for what the fandom does. The fandom is an autonomous phenomenon separate from the show. His job and that of his team is to create a TV show. He’s not there to be the community manager, fandom police, or babysitter and constantly manage everyone’s expectations and emotions. I don’t think it’s possible for him to know everything that is going on in the fandom and it would be disturbing if he did. Jumping in to correct the fandom’s problems would feel very invasive. It’s not his place - it wouldn’t be doable anyway. He can’t be seen picking sides or telling off people, it would only create further drama and hate. This is another version of the security/privacy/freedom dilemma, and you can’t solve everything by just putting a big guy in the room that tells everyone else what to do. This is something that the fandom is going to have to solve on its own, if it ever does.

In the end could he have handled certain things better ? Sure, but there is honestly no easy way to adress these sorts of dynamics, it’s hella complicated, social media draws the worst out of everyone, and personally I really think the team is trying their best to juggle all the fandom’s contradictory expectations. Seriously the things I’ve seen go around on twitter are just really, really awful and I have no clue how I would personally react if it was adressed to me - maybe a lot less gracefully than they have done. Maybe they should set some clearer boundaries and should have spoken up earlier about the bullying but… idk. If you have any other specific ideas of what should be done…I’m all ears.

Of course like…I personally tend to keep to my own little corner of the fandom, on tumblr and with my friends in chats, and I blocked a loooooooot of people, so I don’t see everything that is going on and my view is limited. But it would be nice if we were a little less focused on slinging blame around.

#skam france #fandom culture #skam remakes

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trashmouuuth-blog · 5 years

Text

forgotten memories.

based on the comic by @/atxnolasco on twt!!

—

Richie never liked winter. It was probably his least favorite season out of all of them. The early nights, freezing temperatures, bare trees, and inability to do what it was he usually did. Perhaps the last time he recalls feeling excitement for the anticipated snow fall was when he was a child, hanging with his friends as they played in the mountains of snow, and scarily trudged over the frozen over river that ran through the barrens.

The crunching of snow beneath his sneakers, or the numbing feeling of ice burn into his calloused palms. It was a memorable time, really. One of the many memories he looks back fondly on ever since he left Derry for a second time, mind flooded now of thoughts that had been buried so deeply within his subconscious for over thirty years now. Voices that drew blanks now had faces; faces that were admittedly more matured and attractive, sure, but they were still the same faces off his friends.

It had been a few months now since he returned home to the big city of Beverly Hills, resuming the life of a normal man who just so happened to be a big name around both the country and world. But, many were quick to note the subtle change in Richie’s usually boisterous and vulgar attitude. Yet, no one seemed to understand why.

Sure, he was the same man who made jokes about cheating on his girlfriend, about people’s mothers, or even the infamous ‘that’s what she said’ trope. But there was an evident sadness behind that smile. One pitted so deep within him that not even Richie himself could fathom a melancholy so drastic.

Yet his return back to the celebrity life was short lived, as the spotlight finally shone upon the middle-aged comedian, it seemed to catch everything but the usual glimmer of mischief that always shone despite being hidden beyond thick glasses. To be honest, Richie himself didn’t know what was wrong, nor what was the reactant causing his chest to feel so empty. Numb, even. It wasn’t until he closed his eyes at night did he ever feel normal. Probably because sleeping consisted of dreaming a life that he could possibly ever have. But what was particularly strange about it, was that he could never remember what exactly it was he had been dreaming about. It had been like this for months now, and he’s grown accustomed to it. Also undeniably irritated, but used to the dressing feeling of the slumber blinking itself out of his eyes on instinct.

Richie hadn’t forgotten about his time in Derry, either. He can only blame the defeat of IT, or maybe some childhood trauma- maybe both- to be the cause of these weird dreams. In fact, he had managed to stay in touch with the rest of the Losers, too! It was hard not to, especially when the majority of them were such big names. Bill was still producing his feature film of ‘The Black Rapids’, and had been published a brand new book with an ending that didn’t completely suck. Ben and Beverly were still together, with their companies beginning to merge and create more publicity than ever. It was strange how well they made the drastically different worlds of fashion and architecture work. Mike had moved out of Derry at the end of the summer, settling down in Florida and living out the dream life he had always wanted. Needless to say, everything was going great for the remaining five Losers. They hadn’t forgotten each other this time, either. Everyone had gotten their well-deserved happy ending.

..Well, almost everyone.

They called and texted frequently, keeping to date with each other’s lives. However, their busy schedules sometimes meant that these calls would be postponed for days on end.

But winter meant a slow in business. People and paparazzi would much rather be cooped up against a roaring fire than going out of their way to catch a glimpse at the celebrities that seemed to roam around. They could stalk them from the comfort of their own home, thanks to technology.

The holidays were coming up, too. Early December now, but a time both Richie and his friends had been planning ever since their drastic turn back to the regular life of fame; one that contrasted almost comically to the one they used to bare back in the tiny, mundane town that was Derry, Maine.

Richie never thought he’d set foot back on this cursed pavement ever again. That’s what he had told himself during that dreaded week back in summer- to get the hell out of this place and never look back. But that was easier said that done. Despite its reputation, one couldn’t deny the place they had grown up and known for a majority of their life. Even then, the man still had good memories he’d rather hold on to that tied a part of his heart at the one place that truly felt like home.

Richie didn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with. His mother had long since passed, father only dwindling behind. His sister and niece lived out of state, with each other’s company and that of his brother-in-law. There wasn’t any romance, nor even a fling he could call up. Maybe it was out of shame, maybe it was out of the fact that Richie Tozier refused to admit to himself that he was truly alone. He did have one thing, though. Well- four things, if you count each of the Losers individually. Bev, Bill, Mike and Ben were the closest thing Richie had to family nowadays, and he jumped at the proposition of them spending time together back home at Christmas.

Richie rolls up outside the Derry Townhouse, pulling his suitcase out of the trunk of the red sports car. Flashy. He recognizes the other three vehicles parked outside, too- Bill’s silver Chevrolet, Ben’s green Lexus and Mike’s black Peugeot (that admittedly looked in a lot worse wear compared to the others, but Richie is nice enough to not voice that aloud).

Admittedly, he’s not nervous. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he was seeing them in twenty season years or something. The rekindling if their friendship in the earlier months was enough to make Richie recall how deeply rooted his emotional connection was to the group of Losers. They were just friends. Their shared trauma bound them closer than what one would even be able to perceive as humanly possible. It was love. A real love, one that not many got to experience in their lifetime. Sure, it may have not been romantic, but the familial bond was so strong that it seemed to triumph anything else.

The door of the Townhouse creaks open, Trashmouth Tozier plopping his bags down on the ground with a small thump as he watches the familiar figures hunch over the bar, talking and laughing about any and everything under the sun.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show!” Bill turns and raises his glass to Richie, beckoning him over. This, in turn, earns a cheesy grin to erupt from the comedian’s lips. It was strange being back here again. Where it all started, yet they were down to five instead of seven.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, Denbrough.” Richie proceeds over, Bev welcoming him with open arms. He engulfs his tiny friend in a hug, ravishing in the feeling of warmth. Bev knew better than anyone about Richie’s hurt, even if he didn’t want t admit it to himself. She couldn’t comprehend what it must feel like, though- she came out of this story with the love of her life, yet her best friend’s own was lost in the process. Apart of her can’t help but feel bad, mostly because there was nothing she could do to better the situation, nor was there anything that could’ve helped prevent it. Needless to say, Beverly wouldn’t mind being a shoulder for Richie to lean on if he needed it. That had always been their thing, anyways. Sitting together with a smoke and a beer, staring up at the night sky and just letting their facades fall. Beverly and Richie could always be real with one another. They understood each other. Maybe that was due to their similar personality traits, or the fact that they were platonic soulmates made in hell.

“Heeey,” the red-haired woman grins up at her tall friend, reaching up to pat his cheek – the scratchiness of the stubble feeling like sandpaper against her soft palm. Pale blue eyes meet brown, the happiness evident within them- yet Bev could sense the emptiness behind Richie’s own. “Poured you one and everything. You’re no fun unless your drunk.” She chuckles, holding up a glass of whiskey for Rich. He takes it, rolling his eyes as the clinking of their glasses echoed throughout the desolate B&B.

The taste is bitter in his mouth, the alcohol practically burning as it surpasses his throat. Just how he liked it.

“Haven’t put a ring on it yet, Haystack?” Richie asks Ben, earning a flustered laugh from the undeniably attractive, former fat boy. His cheeks were barely illuminated under the dim lighting of the bar.

“I, uh-“ Ben begins, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, stop! You’re embarrassing him!” Bev points out, slapping Richie’s shoulder gently.

Mike and Bill proceed to join the conversation – time seemingly to fly by almost immediately. Perhaps that was just an effect of the copious amounts of alcohol everyone began to consume, cheeks flushed and words beginning to slur. It was nice, though. Even if it were for just a few hours, Richie wasn’t focusing on ignoring the gaping hood in his chest (pun intended), but rather his best friends.

One by one, the group seemed to dissipate – Mike being the first to stumble up to bed, followed by Bill, then Bev and Ben. Richie had grown quite the tolerance towards the cursed alcohol, having grown a feign dependency on it to help get through the tough times. He had stopped for a while, wanting to counter the issue before it untwisted into something bigger. However, that seemed to be easier said than done.

Being back in Derry erupted a heavy weight to press down on his chest, especially while housed in the same lobby that housed the previous six. The area was so quiet that even the slightest sound of a pin could be heard if it were dropped. Richie sat alone, the empty glass one one calloused hand, with the other bent against the bar as he hunched against it. He stares ahead at the array of bottles that were lined up neatly on the shelves, letting out a sigh as he deliberates tearing into those, too.

Nonetheless, he decides against it. He decides against heading up to bed in general. The thick bottom of the rugged glass meets the wood below one last time, an exasperated grimace pulling at the older man’s aging features. No drinks, yet no sleep. What exactly was there to do?

To hell if Richie knows. All he can comprehend is the fact that his car keys seemed all that more heavy in his jacket pocket.

Footsteps echo throughout the desolate hall of the Derry Townhouse, the sounds seeming to echo off the four paper-thin walls holding the place up. He had no idea where he was going, but chose to trust his gut with this overwhelming sense of need to travel somewhere. To just get out of here and clear his head. It was easier said than done, especially while the wooziness of the alcohol seemed to alter his state of mind and make his emotions all that more heightened.

He doesn’t even comprehend the comfort and warmth of his car, how it contrasted drastically to the bitterly cold Derry air outside, or how the night wind was so harsh that each whip of it felt like a repeated slap to his freckled and now-red cheeks. The bright lights of the modernized town pass by like a blur, each one reflecting over the lenses of his glasses in their varying neon colours and flashing rhythms. Greens, pinks and blues mixed with the navy sky, standing out like a candle in the darkness – flickering on an off in an attempt to garner a reaction from the people outside. It was a ploy that usually reeled the very man in with its excitement, but now his stoic and determined face seemed to scream anything but intrigued.

The night life seemed to decrease the further Richie headed out, the more he continued to follow the Main Street down until its nearing end as it broke into paths. Two roads diverged in a yellow road, and in his haste, Richie chose the one less travelled by. The car’s tires bump over the uneven hills and potholes that were littered in the grass, showing that this very shortcut hadn’t been touched in years. Last he recalls was when he was in his youth, the freedom of his beaten-up sneakers against the crunchy grass almost like music to his ears, surrounded by those he valued enough to call his best friends. The cold air would toss his unruly and outgrown curls around erratically in rhythm with its howls, Richie only having his glasses to shield his eyes from squinting in an attempt to savor some of his sight.

However, the sounds of tires rolling over pebbles seemed to signify enough that he had gone far enough. The desired destination would have to be reached by foot. It wasn’t an issue, though- the trees parted up ahead, clearing a path for the bridge to be crossed safely. Richie pulls his jacket closer to his body, teeth chattering at the coldness that seemed to envelop this winter night. The surrounding area seems to familiar to him, all the memories flooding back like a slap to his face.

Ah, yes. The Kissing Bridge.

It was only good for two things; sucking faces and carving names. Both options that appealed to Richie wholeheartedly, but he had only ever gotten to fulfill the latter.

The decayed wood that was laid across the bridge creaks under his weight, showing how much wear thirty years really does to something like this. Richie’s walk slows, taking in the scenery around him – the sparkling stars up above, how one seemed to shine ever so slightly brighter amongst the others and how it was situated directly above his head. The rushing water of The Barrens below also seemed eerily calm, more like a secluded lake. The place was hugged in a dark blanket of black within the night, but the full moon shine so brightly that it illuminated the path ahead of him.

He wasn’t sure what had originally led him to this spot, it the familiarity of it was enough to make him understand. And man, he wished he hadn’t.

Brown eyes cast downwards as he comes to a stop, looking over the wooden panels that served as barriers at the bridge’s side. Names and initials of all kinds were engraved deeply into them, some now faded or grown over with moss. But one in particular still looked as good as new. It was only redone a few months prior, after all.

R + E

He scans the initials, a small smile tugging at his lips, yet the melancholy was evident from the way his brows creased in hurt. Eddie. Man, he can almost hear the voice telling him to shut up as Fichte delivered yet another crude joke or in protests to the many silly nicknames he had dubbed the small hypochondriac over the years.

That pain he had been experiencing was there, but only seemed amplified by a thousand – the knife in his heart now being twisted at an unimaginable angle to further embed deeper into the already open and sensitive wound. It hurts. Of course it does. He just wasn’t expecting it to feel so.. excruciating.

Richie reaches up to touch the bow of his glasses, fingers brushing over the lens from where it had previously been splattered with blood.

His breath hitches, and before he knows it, he’s knee-down in the gravel below, having to crawl a few steps over in order to sit his back against the panels below. The man’s shoulder shake pathetically, face buried within his calloused palms as he just.. cries. For the first time in forever, he feels the sensation of tears screaming down his face, the shortness of breath as he gasps in sobs. Albeit silent, each one caused his heart to ache more and more. Time seems to pass, but it’s beyond the point of being able to be told, considering the night was still upon him and he lacked a watch to check the time. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he wants to. He couldn’t been crying for five minutes, maybe an hour- who knows?

It’s the setting of his dreams all over again. The very scenario- only it felt way more real.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts once again by a familiar yet oddly foreign voice from behind. “Hey, fuckface. Mind if I sit here?” It asks, grabbing Richie’s attention. Over the fence leans a short man, his brown hair arranged in a neat fiat-top and puppy-dog eyes still so round beneath his thick brows. The occasional wrinkle was invented into his smile-lines, which was to be expected with age. The large gauze on his cheek is almost significant to his character.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

“Shit, fucking fences-“ he curses out, struggling to catch his leg over the top panel. He was so short in comparison, it was usually comical to Richie. But he hasn’t looked up. His head merely rests back against the fence, a defeated smile pulling at his lips. Eddie takes a seat beside him eventually, dusting himself off.

“This is the most disgusting place I’ve ever been. Even your mom wasn’t a public menace to mental health.”

Richie can’t help but snicker. “Pffft. Of couuurse. Even while you’re dead, you’re still the same germ freak.”

Eddie reciprocates the laugh, ensuing his usual playful teasing-wars with Richie. His sarcas, always seemed to contrast the vulgarity of his jokes. “Well, sue me for having standards.” The silence is resumed once again, it seeming so deafening in the current moment. The distant crickets chirp, combining with the faint sounds of rushing water and the natural night ambiance. It would’ve been beautiful if they had been in any other situation other than their current one. “So, whats the big Trashmouth plan here?” Eddie asks, glancing over. It was as if he was expecting Richie to conjure up some elaborate plan in order to make himself feel better.

There was no answer. Nothing. For the first time in what had to be history, Richie Tozier had nothing to say – which was worrying in itself. His long legs just sprawl out on the ground before him limply.

Eddie furrows his brows. “..Richie?”

“I don’t wanna forget again,” the taller of the two eventually blurts our, which earn a pair of chocolate-brown eyes to look over at him with a hurt expression. Eddie hurts for Richie, knowing that he’d have to live ur is days seemingly miserable. He didn’t want that, especially not for the very man he’d cared about for so many years. He wishes he could’ve said something sooner- anything. Maybe they wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

“I remember everything now,” Richie begins, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in distress. “I can’t let go again, Eds.” Of you, Eddie. Richie doesn’t want to let go of the very hypochondriac beside him.

“You wont this time. IT’s dead, remember? We’re free..”

A bitter tone is laced through the replying tone of Richie. “Doesn’t fucking feel like it.” His hand comes away from his face, glasses in grip as he takes them off. His thumb brushes over one of the lenses, as if recalling the very day they were crusted with splattered blood of the very man who was stabbed before him. “Did you know I had to clean your blood off my glasses after?” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he gulps. “Had a sore throat for day’s from screaming your name.”

Eddie feels his own heartstrings get tugged on. He doesn’t hate anything more than seeing Richie so upset, especially when there was nothing he could do. He could take the shitty nicknames, even the jokes about his mom, but Eddie Kaspbrak hated being helpless. He takes Richie’s glasses and instead reaches up to adjust them back onto the wearer, a soft smile with creased brows adorning his features. “You won’t forget, but you do have to let me go, Rich. You deserve a happy ending, too.”

Richie’s gaze meets Eddie’s for the first time. It feels like they’re kids again, and he’s staring into the eyes of the same boy sitting across the hammock from him. “How?”

Quoting the famous lines said to him in the sewer, Eddie nudges him. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ll figure it out.”

“Am not.”

“The strongest, smartest, dumb asshole I know.”

Richie takes ahold of the hands near his face, holding them in a genetic grip as he studies the drastic difference in size. He’s feeling a plethora of emotions right now, and can’t control his next words. “I love you.”

Eddie merely smiles and presses his forehead to Richie’s, his eyes closing in glee. “I love you too, man.”

The curly-haired man feels his chests sink. It was now or never, but he just had to tell Eddie how h event one and for all – facing his fear of being rejected and outcasted by others for this one simple moment that decades had led up to. “No, I mean..-“ He swallows again. “Shit, Kaspbrak, I-“

“Richie, come on.” Eddie pulls away, his lips pressing against Richie’s forehead from where it was exposed beneath his bangs, “I know.”

Richie opens his eyes to instead see a small boy embracing him, his red shorts and fanny pack all too familiar. His head buries in Eddie’s chest, the casting down of his gaze now revealing that instead of his usual modernized-outfit, Richie wore some ripped jeans and an oversized Hawaiian shirt. They both seemed so small right now- having to be no older than thirteen. The same age their friendship was in its prime and began to blossom into something beautiful.

“Now quit the pity party. Go take a shower and make someone laugh, dipshit,” Eddie says, his voice matching his youthful look.

—

When Richie opens his eyes again, he realizes that it was indeed morning, from the brightness and the chirping birds, but also from how groggy he was. He must’ve fallen asleep outside, but the memory of last night still rang in his head like a second nature.

He smiles at the thought, wiping away the few stray tears of happiness that cascaded down his stubble cheeks. His palm presses against his face, trying to conceal that stupid grin that pulled at his lips.

“..Okay, Eddie.”

Pushes himself up, checking his phone to the the multitude of messages from his friends back home. Fuck, he didn’t mean to worry them.

“Let’s do it your way.”

#reddie #it #it chapter two #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #losers club #bev marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #angst #mcd #pennywise #it ch 2

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