#he is polite and he loves his friends so much that the remnants of that love animated a suit of armor

[inflamedrosenkranz]

So... Jayvik and Caitvi. In the same way that Jayce and Caitlyn are like brother and sister, I can imagine V (Viktor) and Vi bonding over the fact that they're both from the Undercity, and becoming very close friends as a result.

Coming from the same place, they have socio-cultural codes and practices and a vision of the world—in short, a whole habitus—in common. In fact, they like to hang out together when living in Piltover is too much for them, among a bourgeois elite that remains for them an oppressor by whom they will never be truly accepted, and whose codes they will only assimilate and reproduce superficially, the barrier between the two worlds and the weight of history between the two peoples being too thick and heavy for them to be able to really cross it and become so deeply imbued with the Piltovian habitus that they fully acculturate to it. Not that they want to, either, because to integrate completely into the topside society that is the source of a suffering deeply and forever engraved in their flesh would be for them to deny and betray their deepest selves and origins as well as their loved ones remaining in the Undercity, if not their entire people.

Their passing, as class defectors, is thus only apparent. That said, Viktor being older and having lived longer than Vi in Piltover, but also having evolved in the upper echelons of its intellectual and, by extension via Jayce, political elite, I can see him giving Vi advice and sharing his knowledge of the Piltovian way of thinking and living, or correcting some of her character or behavioral traits to help her adapt better in the upper city, especially since as Caitlyn's companion, who is the daughter of one of the most important local houses, she is unfortunately forced to conform to certain standards. In return, I imagine Vi allows V to drop the mask of forced propriety and rediscover a certain whimsy and insolence proper to Zaun, where despite the daily struggles for survival, the inhabitants retain a freedom of thought, an outspokenness and an nonconformism proper to the rebellious spirit of youth and to the working-class camaraderie inherited from hard labor and trade union culture in the mines. For instance, I can see V starting to use swear words again now that he's mixing with Vi, words he'd forbidden himself to use from the moment he had stepped foot in Piltover (even Jayce has never heard a profanity come out of his mouth).

That's why I imagine them getting together on a regular basis to unburden their shoulders of this weight of transclasses and outsiders perpetually out of step in an alien society. At first, they would meet in the less upscale corners of Piltie, those closest to the entrance to the Lanes, putting the world to rights while enjoying drinks at café terraces, window-shopping or sitting in parks. Then they would agree to go back down into Zaun, to reconnect even more with their roots.

Eventually, they would also insist so much that Caitlyn and Jayce come with them, that the latter would eventually give in, despite the constraints it would represent for them, the bad memories they had of Zaun and the remnants of a misplaced condescension for the place and its people still holding sway over them. But out of love, and understanding the self-sacrifice their lovers would make every day to live at Piltie, they would agree to this little compromise, far from 50/50 of course, but aware of how much it all meant to Vi and V, who would then feel allowed to show them the culture of the place and their expertise on it, making Cait and Jayce fall even more in love with them at the sight of the extent and number of their hidden talents, sadly unsuited to Piltover.

In the Undercity, V and Vi would stay one step ahead of their lovers, acting as guardians in dark, seedy alleys, or as culinary guides in restaurants serving suspicious dishes, heartily mocking their cumbersome gas masks. And, when Cait or Jayce would be interested in an item on the market, the other two would show them the fierce art of haggling with salesmen trying to rip off two Pilties lost in a foreign, archaic world, a chaos preceding the apparent cosmos of the topside. While Cait wouldn't be too much surprised to see Vi acting in this way, because it wouldn't be the first time she'd come with her to Zaun, Jayce, for his part, would rediscover his Viktor in a new light. Viktor stuffing himself with dubious foods. Viktor bargaining relentlessly with unscrupulous merchants with a gall and a sassiness Jayce knew he had but had never witnessed before, or at least not to such an extent. Viktor speaking different dialects with representatives of Zaun's various ethnicities and races, with Vi also taking part in the conversation; or V and Vi speaking in Viktor's native dialect (I happen to have a headcanon explaining his accent...)—until then, indeed, he'd never heard Viktor speak a language other than the official one common to both cities with his exquisite accent.

But then he'd hear V swear for the first time and he'd blush; or he'd be moved to hear him introduce him to different places or customs, telling him about them with the self-assurance of someone who knows them from the inside, and for the first time he'd really understand how his man must have felt in his early days at Piltover. Hence, just for a day in Zaun, Jayce would accept to become the outsider instead of Viktor, and from the new prism of his reversed social position, he would feel pride, wonder and renewed love for V.

He'd also watch in awe as his man would hail or greet old acquaintances randomly in the crowd, or would be recognized and approached by shopkeepers who hadn't seen him in years and would therefore be happy to hear from him again. Those V's hitherto unknown aspects he would keep jealously sealed in his heart and cherish forever.

He would also rejoice in V's bond with Vi, them so dissimilar in appearance, happy with their friendship consolidating a little more each day, and with these parallel bonds established between him and Cait, and Viktor and Violet, and he would hope and pray that all this would last until the end.

He would also be delighted to see V finally becoming an integral part of a social group and feeling at ease, finally letting down his guard and abandoning his false shyness in the midst of Vi, Jinx, Ekko, Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Silco and Benzo, he who were once rejected by Zaunites his own age because of his disability. And all together, they would talk about things the Zaunites have in common, and Cait and Jayce would feel left out until Vi, V or the others would provide them with an explanation.

And all, they would watch Jayce out of the corner of their eyes, laughing and giggling at him swooning in front of his man, drinking in every word he would say and always seeming to restrain himself from falling on his neck to kiss him passionately in front of everyone.

But in short, I imagine Vi and V (along with Jinx and Ekko, sometimes) being kind of refuge for each other when their life in Piltover turns them upside down and even sometimes the understanding with their lovers due to their many differences isn't up to scratch and fights and conflicts are on the horizon. They both are friends and confidants, and they find the name of their duo rocks. What about Cai and Jay for the other two?

[wazzuppy]

idc what anyone says, i love terra and i will always love him. how could i NOT love this big, goofy sweetheart?

[prythianpages]

Goodnight | Azriel

summary: Azriel has a night time confession. The aftermath of me still having Billie Eilish's Birds of a Feather on repeat.

warnings: none, just fluff

word count: 943, short and sweet

a/n: I wrote this a couple of days ago and was hesitant to post bc I felt it was similar to my other Az fic but then decided, wth just post it. So here it is 💙

Shadows rustled among the trees, dancing and swirling, bringing forth a gentle but cool breeze. The tendrils remaining with Azriel curl up around his ear, whispering of the subtle shiver you gave. Without a word, Azriel shrugs his jacket and secures it around your shoulders.

“Oh,” you whisper, slightly startled by his gesture. “But aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine,” he assures you with a small smile. He’s all too familiar with the chill permeating the air. 

There’s another breeze rustling through the canopy of trees. This time, it’s stronger and colder and some leaves fall, fluttering around you both. Azriel looks up with a glare but the glare is quickly replaced with something softer when the shadows around his neck whisper to him. They tell him of the way you wrapped his jacket around you tighter, a subtle blush rising as the new closeness of the fabric brought his scent to you.

“You didn’t have to walk me home,” you say, glancing up at Azriel. “Things were just getting interesting back there. You could still go back, you know.”

Azriel lets out a snort. “You mean Amren and her bathroom discussions? No, thank you.”

You laugh and Azriel smiles with you. He’s definitely not missing anything back home. Not when you, the greatest subject of his interests, are walking beside him. He noticed when your eyes began to grow weary and participation in the conversations grew less and less. He also noticed the mischievous glint in Cassian’s eyes as his friend glanced between you and him.

“Welcome to our world, tiny ancient one. Everyone poops! Anyway, you want to hear something funny? How about the time Azriel–” 

But much to Azriel’s relief, you had stood up with a small apologetic smile and politely dismissed yourself since you had an early shift the following morning. So, of course, Azriel had offered to walk you home, saving himself from the embarrassment that was sure to follow from Cassian’s words. He made sure to kick Cassian’s boot as he followed after you with a smug look on his face. He also made sure to bring his jacket along with him, noticing you had arrived without one.

So now, the two of you walked side by side. Granted, he could’ve used his shadows to winnow you to your doorstep in an instant. But that would mean cutting his precious time with you short and he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. The quiet night envelops you in its serene embrace and the silence that falls between you is comfortable yet charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you dare to break.

As you reach your door, Azriel’s mind races with thoughts he fears to voice. You turn to face him and Azriel fights the urge to frown. Why did you have to live so close? He sends a silent prayer to the stars above that you might forget about the jacket wrapped snugly around your shoulders, just so he’d have an excuse to see you again.

"Goodnight," you say softly, your voice like a melody he wished to hear every night, eyes still sparkling with the remnants of laughter from earlier. 

"Goodnight," Azriel replies, his heart pounding. Before he can stop himself, the words slip out so smoothly one would think it was a common occurrence between you both. “I love you."

You freeze, eyes widening in surprise and face contorting into a taken aback expression, trying to process what he just said. It’s then that it hits him as well. His own eyes widen in horror.  

"Um, sorry... I didn't mean to say that."

Your head tilts slightly in question, a gesture he finds absolutely endearing. He feels heat rise to his cheeks, his shadows slithering up his neck as if trying to offer him some comfort. "I mean, I meant it... but I didn't mean it, mean it... You know what I mean?"

Gods, he sounds like a fool. Years of meticulously concealed emotions, years of perfecting an unreadable facade, and now, of all times, he slips?

A sly smile plays at the corners of your lips. "Go home, Az,” you say, teasing and knowing. “And let me know when you mean it, mean it…”

With that, you gently close the door, leaving him standing there, his mind racing and his heart aching. Because what just happened? And what did you mean by that?

No. Azriel couldn’t leave it like that.

He knocks on your door, fist trembling lightly, his shadows whispering encouragement. When you open it, your face is a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He meets your eyes, apprehension and hope swirling together in his hazel depths. 

"I mean it, mean it," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, there is silence. 

Then, your smile softens, your eyes filled with understanding. You step closer, standing on your tip-toes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Then, I love you too,” you whisper against his skin, your breath warm and sweet, stirring his shadows into a gentle frenzy.

Before you can pull away, Azriel turns his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that sends butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach. He savors the softness and taste of your lips, losing himself in the moment when you’re kissing him back with the same eagerness. He rests his forehead against yours as he pulls away, his shadows swirling between you much like the unspoken emotions between you do.

"Goodnight, Az," you whisper softly, your eyes holding sleep, yet shining with the promise of more conversations tomorrow.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

This time, as the door closes, Azriel feels a warmth in his chest, a genuine, unguarded smile spreading across his face.

a/n: I seem to be in the mood for accidental/in the moment confessions. Sorry 😭

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming 

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Hayden x FemReader) *Blurb*

Summary: It’s No Nut November and a certain moose was too polite to tell his friends no this year to their stupid, little bet.  Somehow managing to make it through almost the whole month, he finally caves after getting a taste of a major adrenaline rush.  Wanting more of that electrifying feeling and thrill.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut.  Fun from behind (giddy up), semipublic smex, slightly dom moose, car abuse, and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- Roughly shoving, pinning you easily in place with his larger body.  Gaze locks with his in the windshield’s faint reflection.  “Ha-Hay, no…”  Watching him fiddle with the delicate, red string.  Lazily take another long, slow drag.  “S-stop it…”  Before tossing, grinding the cig out on the concrete floor; cloud of smoke circling his head like a halo.  “Wha-what about you-your be-” 

- “Shut up…”  Ripping your lacey panties, slapping your pussy.  Long fingers wrap, squeeze the back of your neck.  Pressing your cheek against the car’s warm hood, plush bottom rising into the air.  “Screw the bet…”

- Cool breeze wafts in through the open garage door.  “Not her-here though…”  Kissing, making goosebumps form on your exposed skin.  A pathetic whimper falls from your lips, beads of slick and pre coating the back of your legs.  “Some-someone can walk in on u-us…”

- “Don’t care…”  Hayden hisses in your ear; bitter- sweet scent of tobacco on his breath, clinging to his fire suit.  Strong hand gripping, kneading the soft flesh of your handle.  Bulbous head pushing, prodding at your little hole.  “Not worrying about that right now, angel…”

- Tears of embarrassment sting, fill the corners of your eyes.  “I-I am…”  Weak sob escaping you when he rolls his hips into yours, trying to surge forward.  “I don't want t-to…”  Only met with resistance as you clench down on him.

- Growling low, cock twitching in frustration.  “Shit…”  Lightly calloused fingertips pinch your fat, descend and trail.  Firmly grabbing hold of your thick thigh, hiking it up onto the smooth metal.  “Relax…”  So he can bully, force you to take him deeper.

- Lewd sound of your juices squelching, heavy balls slapping wetly float through the still air.  “Too tight…”  Along with your high-pitched whines, the squeak of your skin.  Dragging forward and back across the sleek surface; from his wild, unbridled thrusts.  “So fucking tight…”

- “Keep…fuck…”  Nails scramble, scratch frantically.  Flaking off some of the decals, embedding remnants of your pearly polish in the finish.  As Hay practically rearranges your insides.  “Keep squeezing me like this…”

- “And you’re going to…”  Feeling him throb, gummy walls cling desperately to his long length.  Poor cunny aches, burns from the familiar stretch; clamps impossibly harder. “Going to make me…”

- Slamming, putting his entire weight behind that last, hard drive.  Knocks the air and a cry from your lungs, makes something buckle beneath.  While pumping, flooding you with his pent-up load.  Overflowing, dripping down the now bent hood…trickling to the floor, mixing with his cigarette ashes.  “Cum.”

(Extra: He would totally light another one up afterwards.  Stuffing your torn panties into his suits pocket.  Saying with a cocky ass grin…  “Now that’s podracing.”  Before putting that sexy, black helmet on.  The one you’ll end up begging him to keep on later when you’re on your back, legs spread wide open…just like he told you to.)

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey, @anakinstwinklebunny

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur, @juli007, @skyguy8108, @frogtowne, @jennasco, @nothinspecial1000, @burnthispls666, @dovepevensie, @xxxxxxctu, @abobiwan-kenobi, @kpopperotp12, @no-yes-maybe-so

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Dec 8th

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1. Hello!!! Thank you so much for what you do! You are amazing! I want to make a ITMF fic request: I am looking for fics where wen Qing and Wen Ning are better siblings to Wei Wuxian than JC and JYL. I love their dynamic and I always found Jiang Cheng lacking in the sibling department. I prefare no modern setting, but I am not very picky. Their siblinghood can be anything from just calling eachother didi/gege/jiejie after spending a lot of time togiether and bonding, to sworn brotherhood, to WWX being outright adopted by the wens. I just want WQ WN WWX best siblings. Lots of love!

Ps: ignore my username, i dont want to see any ships between WQ WN WWX lol @justhereforthefilthnnsfw

🧡🔒 Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 178k, WangXian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX, caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war) I just read it and I loved it. And the siblings dynamic of Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning and Wen Qing is beautiful. It is modern, but with sound worldbuilding on the cultivation side

❤️ The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen by KouriArashi (T, 139k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JC/WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, WWX & JGY, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Revenge, Families of Choice, Sibling Bonding, Mutual Pining, Eventual Happy Ending, Everybody Lives)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 59k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) link in #5

Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes (T, 11k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, WN & WWX, YLLZ WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wen Remnants Live, Everyone Lives, Fix-It, Soft NMJ, POV NMJ, POV WWX, Supportive NMJ, Protective NMJ, NMJ solves all the problems unintentionally, NHS Knows Everything, NHS’s spies are talked about alot, NHS manipulates from the shadows like the best friend he fucking is, NHS & WWX Friendship, Sworn Brothers NHS& WWX & WN, BSSR makes a small appearance at the very end, Immortal BSSR is the best grandmother, Golden Core Reveal, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Good Sibling JC, Soft JC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX Lives, WWX Loves LWJ, WWX is not as oblivious as canon, WWX gets the help he deserves and his family back, Featuring WWX’s inventions)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

A Star Fell by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (M, 76k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, POV Multiple, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Not JC Friendly, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign, WWX becomes a medic, Mutual Pining)

A Brother’s Choice by Admiranda (M, 8k, Time Travel, Yiling Bros, Animal Death, Minor Character Death, madam yu’s canonical cruelty, Post-Canon Setting)

💖 i’ll keep walking by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, WQ & WWX & WN, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Everyone Lives, Found Family, Canon Jiang Cheng Characteristics)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

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2. Hello, how are you? I’d like to thank you for this blog; the fandom wouldn’t be the same without you!

I’d like to request a modern AU fanfic featuring university Wangxian, with both of them yearning for each other without realizing their feelings are mutual. Explicit or general rating is fine!

Thank you so much, and have a great week! 💞 @witchsik

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer)

Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl (E, 60k, WangXian, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Modern, JC mooning over WQ, getting wrecked sexually, WWX’s single brain cell, Practice Kissing)

🔒 so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92k, wangxian, Modern, Accidental Baby Acquisition, oh my god they were roommates, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, this fic is not about trauma, it’s about the yearning, slowburn, some characters have a pretty strong bias against folks with drug addiction, (this does not reflect the author’s opinion of people with addiction disorders!), none of the really grim abuse/drug use affects our main characters, and it takes place offscreen)

synesthesia by uchiuchi (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, background NieLan, background QingMian, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation, Background XuanLi)

~*~

3. Perhaps please send me the top 10 best WangXian fics of all time based on likes, comments, and saves? @ethrealily

Top by Kudos

Top by Comments

Top by Bookmarks Please note these all are filtered only by WangXian and English

~*~

4. I kkow it's a weird ask but please help I'm looking for 90k+word long fics with a virgin WY fic where he is a bottom but i dont mind swutch either. it's really hard to find fics like that. Please help🙈🙈🙏🙏

~*~

5. Hello!

For In The Mood For, what are the current good regularly updating WIPS?

Doesn't need to be frequent as long as they do update sometimes!

No A/B/O please @chalionkat

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 59k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ)

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 99k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX’s Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, is it reconciliation if WWX doesn’t know they were estranged?, Oblivious WWX, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Deserves Happiness, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science)

🔒 in the half shade of my thorns by Reverie (cl410) (M, 70k, WangXian, WIP, Developing Relationship, Autistic LWJ, POV LWJ, Genius WWX, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics, Protective WWX)

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 75k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

Lucky to have a sister by Beginner9to5 (T, 50k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, No Golden Core Transfer, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Canon Divergence, No resurrection, Failed soul summoning, Protective WQ, Good Sibling WQ, WQ is So Done, Adoptive Parent WWX, Protective NHS, Inventor WWX, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Jiang Family Bashing, JC Bashing, Hurt WWX, Scheming NHS, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JC Has Issues, Homophobia, Morally Gray LWJ)

The Royal Mess by Writerqueensue (Not Rated, 21k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty, Arranged Marriage)

~*~

6. Hello! Thanks for your hard work! I'm I'm the mood for some stories where Lan Zhan says or does something that makes Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan actually does hate him (which he doesn't) and so Wei Ying stops trying to be his friend and ignores him or gets real formal and distant and Lan Zhan fixes his mistake or Wei Ying even falls for someone else. Angst can be included. Thank you! @marietsy40-blog

🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 178k, WangXian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX, caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war) link in #1

~*~

7. itmf wangxian great british bake off fics? or anything adjacent to that!

thank you so much 🤗 @starlightrenmin

Battle Chefs series by sami (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern, Reality Show, cooking contests, Format - Recaps, Humour) This is Battle Chefs but may hit the same spot

Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! series by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 59k, Modern, College/University AU, The Great British Bake Off AU, Humor)

🧡 don’t threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media)

🔒 will the cultivators Nail It? by AmyNChan (G, 21k, minor WangXian, minor JYL/JZX, Nailed It AU, Modern AU, TV Show, Chaotic WWX, Awkward JZX, SS Being an Asshole, Judge LWJ, the Nailed It editors deserve a shoutout, Nichole and Jacques being best friends)

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8. Itmf first time parent Wei Ying is overwhelmed and crying himself because A-yuan (or any wangxian baby) is also crying a lot. @constellation-dks

my memory plays our tune, the same old song by Sweetlittlevampire (G, 15k, WangXian, Modern, Romance, Kid Fic, Neighbours, Bisexual WWX, LWJ Has Friends, Child trauma, Mentions of Death, Humour, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Rabbits, Misunderstandings, But only little ones!)

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9. hi!! I'm looking for fics which have absolutely batshit crazy plot twists. Like, jaw on the floor and can't function for 10 minutes plot twists. No JC bashing please!

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (Varies, 1m, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Happy Ending, Telepathic bond, Kink Negotiation, Family Drama, Magical Pregnancy, Dual Cultivation, Shapeshifters, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Yilling Wei Sect, [podfic] Magical Marriage Ribbons by dangercupcake) I would recommend the gratifyingly very long and creative Magical Marriage Ribbons series by Starandrea which has been recc’d here many times because it starts out canon(ish) and quickly goes into new territory/directions, increasingly more wild, but still with full flavor mdzs vibe

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10. Hey there! I have another request. Are there any five where Wei Ying is resurrected, but for him its like he was just at the siege and he isn't so blasé about being dead. And he wants nothing to do with the cultivation world and just walks away. It can be anybody who resurrected him, the point is he just says no to whoever did it and their plan. Even if he dies from refusing to do what was asked of him. Thanks! @marietsy40-blog

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11. HII! This is for itmf! Any crime/mafia au's i read "You & Me Baby, We'll Eclipse The Sun" and need more mafia au's! Or any wangxian mpreg fics with wwx and abusive madam yu/ madam yu fics where her treatment of wwx harms someone else and she gets in trouble

Crime & Chaos by NebulusCharlie (Not Rated, 24k, WangXian, Crime AU, Modern AU)

For Safekeeping Purposes by ChilianXianzi (M, 3k, wangxian, Modern, Gangsters, Crime Boss LWJ, Sugar Daddy LWJ, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, And LWJ's going to take care of that, thoroughly, Domestic fluff but everyone's in a crime syndicate, Found Family, Age Difference, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Canon-typical Abusive Jiangs)

So Full Of Love (Wouldn’t Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Blood and Violence, Idiots in Love, Humor, Mafia AU, Modern AU, Flirting, shameless WWX, Confident WWX, Explicit Language, Mutual Sexual Tension, dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Exhibitionism Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings)

See What I've Become by Vamillepudding (T, 24k, WangXian, Mob, YLLZ WWX, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ Needs a Hug, Sickfic, Protective WWX)

What Belongs to You by cinder1013 (E, 36k, WangXian, Stripper WWX, Crime Boss LWJ, Sex Positive, stds do not exist in this world, Polyamory, Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Wall Sex, background 3zun, previous WWX/WLJ, but we don’t see any of it here, but she’s A-Yuan’s mother, Child Abandonment, Sex Work Is Work, gender non-conforming clothing, Good MY, Rimming, violence toward a child, violence in front of a child)

rather be the hunter than the prey by lokwacious, Regency_Bunny (E, 31k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Mafia AU, FBI Agent WWX, Mafia LWJ, Bichen is a gun now, Some Crack, Dark lwj, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Gangsters)

You Only Die Twice by Mikkeneko (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Assassins/Spies, Assassins & Hitmen, Mafia AU, Action, Moderate Violence, a lot of people die but no named characters, not exactly lan sect friendly, not exactly lan sect critical either, Assassin LWJ, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, coffee shop meet cute, Let LWJ Say Fucks, lightly cracky, Non-Linear Narrative)

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12. hi, ITMF fics where A-Yuan is traumatized by the Jin Sect and what happened in the camps? Like I've seen some fics where A-Yuan can't stand people wearing gold because he associates the color with bad people. This is a very specific fix I'm currently in need of but don't know what to search for haha. Thank you very much for all the hard work!

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 105k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character, Somnophilia)

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13. Hello! Good morning/afternoon/evening. Sending this for "In the Mood for" :D Fics of LWJ and NHS scheming together? They could scheme against anyone that wronged them or in LWJ case, who wronged WY.

Example of this is in the fic "A Matter of Time" by mrcformoso. (A favorite fic of mine uwu )

Thank you!!!

Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

🔒 Something is wrong with A-Zhan! by HeloSoph (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Dark LWJ, Morally Gray WWX, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, WWX is a Lan, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, JC Bashing, Smitten LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Engaged WangXian, Blood and Violence, a lot of people die, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, because of, Shameless LWJ, LQR Tries, to fit into the following tag, Good Uncle LQR, Semi-Public Sex, or at least wangxian’s version of it, Scheming NHS, POV NHS)

The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

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14. Hi y'all. In the mood for... Fics that vibe with 74243's tags about Nie Mingjue from Gimme shelter - "she's out there somewhere black motorcycle jacket / sleek moustache / bangin chicks" - à la plonk's good friends. NMJ preferred but any fic with the vibes welcome! Ty 🖤

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15. Hello! For itmf, do you know fics that are set after the cloud recesses study arc in a no war au or an au where the war takes longer to start, so lwj and wwx interacting after cloud recesses while a bit more grown up and without a war to deal with. Basically something like the beginning of dispersing clouds. Thanks!!

Orchids in Lotus Pier by Vamillepudding (G, 21k, wangxian, canon divergence, romantic comedy, pining, protective JC, friends to lovers, misunderstandings)

💖 sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

Forgetting Envies and Fleeing Questions by marikazz (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Repressed LWJ, Fluff, Swordfighting, the homoerotic kind, Love Confessions, Confessions, Flirting, Getting Together, Pining, Humor, POV LWJ)

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16. For itmf: a longer fic with a complex and poetic prose. I really like fancy words and purple prose. Or when the writer is doing something deliberately artistic with the language. Perhaps something weird and pretentious. Thanks for everything you do! @landofvinesandmonoliths

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending) I wouldn't call any of these pretentious but they all contain complex narrative and poetic language

Lovesong of the Square Root of Negative One by honeydrip (lmeden) (M, 55k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Modern, Blood and Gore, Elements of Horror, Elements of magical realism, Layered Narratives, A Story Within a Story, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Not Everyone Dies)

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Gentle Exile by rynleaf (E, 9k, XiSong, Post-Canon, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, References to Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Exploration, [PODFIC] Gentle Exile by flamingwell, semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)) this doesn't have purple prose, but I consider the use of language to be almost poetic (and there's even some poetry woven into the story), and the written structure is just as much part of the storytelling as the language (creative use of scene breaks, what is left- vs center-justified, etc)

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17. Hi!! ITMF a fic where lsz is raised primarily by wwx but without lwj. whether or not the fic contains wangxian is fine with me!! But lwj cant participate is raising lsz they can meet later when lsz is already grown (or at least preteen?) Thank you! Sorry if this ask was a little messy ☹️ @draconislyra

hot for teacher by attackofthezee (noxlunate) (M, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Kid Fic, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Teacher LWJ, Single Parent WWX, Fluff, vaguely set geographically in the us)

🔒 how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, wangxian, modern, coffee shop au, nonbinary LSZ, hurt/comfort, trauma, past abuse, past domestic violence, healing, hurt WWX, found family, hospitalization, therapy, single parent WWX, pining, teacher LWJ, unreliable narrator, chronic pain, queer platonic relationship, genderfluid WWX, autistic LWJ, fluff & angst)

Picture Perfect by manaika (M, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Past Relationship(s), Widower WWX, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Stepfather WWX, LSZ is a Wèi, Single Parent WWX, Aromantic Relationship, Platonic Life Partners, it’s all in the past and only mentioned/discussed when relevant, Sex-Favorable Asexual WWX, RomanceHurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Food Intake Related Medical Issue (not what you think) )

🔒 Song of Divination by LittleSummary (M, 28k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LSZ & LWJ, LWJ & MXY, LWJ & WQ, LWJ & WN, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, JL & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, WIP, Single Parent WWX, Modern with Magic, Demonic Cultivation, Amnesiac WWX, Curses, Past Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Canon JC, No JC & WWX Reconciliation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, LSZ is a Wei, MXY is a Wei)

The Winner Takes It All by YilingSani (M, 46k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Old Friends, One Night Stands, No Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forgiveness, Second Chances, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies) Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, mention of miscarriage, Birth Trauma, amniotic fluid embolism)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[randomciabatta724]

Some Polites headcanons because they're good for the soul.

Note: these are a mix of details from the musical I wanted to expand on, stuff I've read from other posts, and things I randomly came up with.

He was in the frontlines (or at least near them) during the Trojan war. Not because he wanted to fight, he just thought "if I have to join the battle, I'll at least shield those behind me". I took this from Survive, because he had to be pretty close to Polyphemus to be the first one hit by the club.

Self sacrificial. Very self sacrificial. Would die for the crew, especially for Odysseus and Eurylochus.

Loves dates. Either on their own or with honey. I don't know why, he just gives me the vibe.

Had night terrors both during and after the war. Either nightmares about the people he killed (let's face it, you don't come out of a 10 year war without getting blood on your hands) or his friends dying in battle. Never explicitly told anyone, but he would stay with his friends a little longer the morning after. Also picked a lot more night watch turns as a result, just to get his mind off of things.

Bruises/gets injured extremely easily, and doesn't notice/care. Especially if someone else is hurt too. "Are you alright?" asks Polites to another soldier while coughing up blood.

Also very durable, somehow. That's why Polyphemus had to hit him twice/j.

Myopic king. The glasses are a gift from Athena, because she was like "I think you're a soft-hearted fool, but I'll be damned if you embarrass my Warrior of the Mind because you can't see beyond the bridge of your nose".

The type of person to keep eating horrible/possibly poisoned food just to not offend the person who prepared it. Odysseus had to smack the lotus out of his hand because he would have still taken a bite to not make the lotus eaters upset (he brought some with him anyway, that's where Odysseus got the lotuses to put in the wine).

Many have already said this, he's the therapist friend before therapy was invented.

Gives the best hugs.

Taller than Odysseus but shorter than Eurylochus (Odysseus reaches Polites' chest, Polites reaches Eurylochus' nose).

Apologises when he bumps into furniture. It's a reflex, he doesn't notice he does it. It's a remnant of his pre-glasses days, when he couldn't distinguish a person from a vase.

The ancient Greek equivalent of a Godfather to Telemachus.

Extremely trusting, sometimes a little too much (fun fact: in the Odyssey he's like the first one to enter Circe's palace).

Very forgiving. He gives second, third, even fourth chances like it's nothing, no matter how badly someone hurts him. You have to be pretty forgiving to still think about greeting the world with open arms after being clubbed to death. (Note: this does not apply to his friends getting hurt).

When he takes off his bandana, his curls reach his shoulders and cover his left eye, and it gives him a whole different vibe. He still radiates warmth, but it's not the same. Kinda like the sun at noon and the sun at dusk. The second is still warm and welcoming, but dimmer, softer, maybe a little darker. People have mistaken him for someone else because of this.

Super heavy sleeper. One time when they were younger, Odysseus and Eurylochus decided to try and wake him up by making the most noise possible. They did not succeed.

His first kiss was Eurylochus while Odysseus was away in Sparta to court Penelope.

One time, someone tried to rob him. The guy was like "Give me your money!" and Polites was like "Oh dear, look at you, of course I'll give you my money, you look like you really need it. Also, why don't you come to my house so I can give you some food and clean clothes?". The thief was so ashamed of himself he ran away.

He befriended Charon in the Underworld.

You know the plague that Apollo sent during the Iliad? He may or may not have gotten it, I haven't decided yet.

Considering that in epic the sirens have the ability to shapeshift into loved ones, there was definitely a siren Polites somewhere during Suffering/Different Beast.

He's generally a very calm person, the only thing that really gets him angry is when his friends get hurt. And when he's angry, he's not someone to mess with. He can and will kick ass. And the thing that rubs salt in the wound is that if you get beat up by Polites, it's almost certainly your fault, because Polites isn't the kind of person that goes around randomly beating people up. And very few people wish to carry the title "The person who got beat up by Polites".

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

The last headcanon is something I've also based a scenario on. Basically, after Odysseus kills the suitors, they go to the Underworld. Most of them are still shaken up by the whole thing, which is understandable, getting shot by an enemy you can't see while unarmed in the dark is not fun, but not Antinous. Antinous is pissed. And so he rallies up the other suitors, he gives a whole speech where he basically says they can get revenge on Odysseus once he joins them there and also reveals all the shit they did while he was gone. And Polites is like, talking to Eurylochus or something, when he overhears. And so he goes to give Antinous the beating of his life because you do **not** disrespect his best friend and his family like that. And the suitors+Eurylochus are watching from a corner, with the suitors getting even more scared.

That's it. Nothing more :)

I know Eurylochus is married to Ctimene but I SHIP HIM AND POLITES SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHH

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hi! I love your writing! Are you able to do a Elrond fic with a mage elf reader from a different land where their ears are longer & was raised with human commoners? Maybe she's been hiding with Bronwyn and the south landers? (they don't trust Halbrand, he reminds her of the nobles she used to know) Just a meet cute would be lovely, maybe in Eregion? Thanks, keep up the fantastic writing ♥️

I haven't forgotten about my asks! It's just taken me some time to give them all the time they deserve!

This is adorable and I had so much fun writing it!

Side note: For the purposes of this ask, we are saying that the Noldor have longer ears and some split off to stay around the humans in the southlands. Does it follow Tolkien lore? No. But that's okay. Don't take it too seriously :)

A Promise at the Gates

The air smells faintly of woodsmoke, a ghost of the battle that razed Tirharad to its foundations. You stride through the remnants of the village, your boots kicking up ash that clings to the hem of your cloak. The cries of children and murmurs of despair echo as displaced humans cluster around their leader, Bronwyn. Your friend.

She stands with her shoulders straight, her face a mask of calm determination. You marvel at her resilience; the humans have lost so much, and yet Bronwyn remains steadfast.

"I’ll journey to Eregion," you announce, breaking into her thoughts.

Bronwyn’s sharp gaze fixes on you. "Are you sure? The road is dangerous, and the elves…" She hesitates. "They may not listen."

You smirk, though your heart aches for her doubt. "They’ll listen to me. I’m persuasive."

She huffs out a laugh, and the two of you share a moment of fleeting warmth. But your gaze flickers to Halbrand, standing apart from the others. His every move prickles your instincts—his easy charm, his watchful eyes, the way he avoids questions with a grin.

"I still don’t trust him," you mutter.

"Neither do I," Bronwyn admits. "But he helped us."

"Did he, though?" you counter, your voice low. Your past whispers in your mind—smiling lords who lied with their teeth and betrayed with their blades. Halbrand reminds you of them.

But Bronwyn shakes her head, her focus resolute. "If he means harm, we’ll deal with it. For now, we must find shelter."

And so, you go, leaving the humans behind to gather their meager belongings.

+++++

The road to Eregion is long, winding through the wildlands of Middle-earth. You keep to yourself, avoiding caravans and curious humans. The journey gives you time to think—perhaps too much time. Memories surface, unbidden, of the great halls of your kin, where politics wove tighter snares than any spider’s web.

By the time you arrive, the walls of Eregion gleam in the sunlight, and its beauty takes your breath away. Fine craftsmanship blends seamlessly with the natural world, an unmistakable mark of the elves who dwell here. Yet it’s not the architecture that catches your eye—it’s the figure waiting just beyond the gates.

"Mae govannen," he says, his voice like a song. He is tall, with a poise that speaks of both wisdom and kindness. His dark hair shines in the light, and his eyes—those eyes—seem to look straight into your soul.

You hesitate, and his brow furrows slightly. "You are a traveler, yes? Seeking refuge or passage?"

"I’m seeking aid," you reply, your voice steady. "For the people of Tirharad."

His lips quirk upward at her name. "Ah, the human settlement. I cannot say I have heard much of anything from the southlands." He places a hand over his heart in a gesture of respect. "I am Elrond Peredhel. Please, come inside."

You nod, falling into step beside him as he leads you through the city.

+++++

The warmth of Eregion’s halls is a balm to your weary soul. You are ushered into a sitting room, where wine and fruit await. Elrond pours you a glass himself, his movements unhurried.

"You are Noldor, are you not?" he asks as he offers the drink.

You incline your head. "You know us by our ears, I assume."

His smile softens. "They are distinctive, but there is something else. A certain… informality in your bearing. It is refreshing."

You laugh, a genuine sound that surprises even you. "Is that your way of saying I lack decorum?"

"Not at all," he replies, his tone earnest. "It is a compliment."

The conversation flows easily after that. You speak of Bronwyn’s plight, of the humans displaced by war and the help they desperately need. Elrond listens intently, his gaze never wavering. When you finish, he nods thoughtfully.

"Eregion’s resources are strained, they are not equipped to send out vast quantities of supplies," he admits. "But I will speak with the High King.  No one should be left to suffer, not while aid is within reach."

His words ease a tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. "Thank you," you say, meaning it.

But as the evening wears on, you find yourself watching him not as an emissary, but as a friend. There’s a warmth to him, a quiet strength that draws you in. And when he smiles at you—a real, unguarded smile—it feels like the sun breaking through the clouds.

The days that follow blur together. You work closely with Elrond, planning the logistics of transporting supplies to Tirharad. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize how different he is from the elves you knew in your youth. He is kind, yes, but also clever and quick-witted, with a knack for putting others at ease.

One afternoon, as you pore over maps in his study, he leans back in his chair and regards you with a curious expression.

"You are unlike any Noldor I’ve met before," he says.

You arch an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment or an observation?"

"A little of both," he admits, his lips twitching into a grin.

You tilt your head, studying him. "And you, Elrond Peredhel. You’re unlike the other elves I’ve met. You seem to carry the weight of two worlds on your shoulders, yet you never falter."

He looks away, his smile fading. "It is both a gift and a burden to be of two peoples. I strive to honor them both, but it is not always easy."

For a moment, you see the vulnerability beneath his polished exterior, and it makes your heart ache. Without thinking, you reach across the table and place your hand over his.

"You do it well," you say softly. "Better than most could."

He meets your gaze, and something unspoken passes between you—a connection that feels as ancient and unshakable as the earth beneath your feet.

The day of your departure arrives too soon. Bronwyn’s people need the supplies, and you cannot linger, no matter how much a part of you wishes to stay.

Elrond walks you to the gates of Eregion, his expression unreadable.

"Will you return?" he asks, his voice quiet.

You hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "If the road leads me here again," you say, "I will not stray from it."

He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Then I will wait. Until the road calls you back."

You step closer, your heart pounding. "And if it doesn’t?"

His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, the world falls away. "Then I will find it myself."

The words hang between you, a promise and a hope. You don’t say goodbye; it feels too final, too cruel. Instead, you turn and walk away, the weight of his gaze following you long after the city disappears from view.

As you journey back to Tirharad, your thoughts linger on Elrond—on his kindness, his strength, and the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been in centuries.

You smile to yourself, the memory of his voice echoing in your mind. Perhaps, someday, the road will lead you back to Eregion. Or perhaps, as he promised, he will find you first.

[kakujis]

first meeting! - tabito karasu;

synopsis: karasu thinks ur really cute, but what do u mean u know all his teammates and not him?

wc: 1k

warnings: fem!reader, karasu is a little jealous, like miniscule. not proofread.

a/n: well well well.. my first blue lock drabble and it's karasu?! not kunigami or oliver? eh? anyways, i couldn't get this out of my head! i'm a lil nervous, but i just wanted to humble him rq. i love him loads tho and umm, if this is ooc.. oops.

the first time you meet tabito karasu, he’s sitting in a cafe, sipping on a cup of coffee, watching his best friend flirt with another group of girls. he swivels his cup, staring as he swishes the remnants of his drink before he sets it down. 

“there he goes again,” he mumbles, leaning on one hand, staring at the cafe patio. karasu won’t lie, he’s a little bored, but otoya can’t help himself whenever there’s a girl around, even more so when there’s a pack. he does think it’s a little funny to see them swarm him though, asking for autographs or pictures together, as he hears snippets of “i saw your match vs the u-20!” 

he wonders how otoya does it, thinking about draining it would be if he had to pretend to be nice to girls he didn’t particularly care about. he’s brought back to earth by the sound of your voice, “more coffee?” 

“sure,” he says, eyes still trained on the crowd outside. it’s mostly quiet besides the sound of coffee being poured into his cup. 

“oh! its that guy,” you exclaim and karasu finally peels his eyes off of them to look up at you. he blinks, caught off guard for a second. oh.. you’re cute. “otoya eita. he played in the recent blue lock vs u-20 match, right?” 

“oh, uh, yep,” he says, but his heart jumps in his chest when you make eye contact with him. he straightens up a little, thinking it’s lame, but for the first time he can’t come up with much to say. 

“man, he was so cool! ah, the way he moved down the field was kinda dreamy.” you ramble, setting the kettle down on the table, “oh and um, yo hiori? he was pretty cool too. i don’t really follow soccer but my friends do. did you watch it?” 

he waits for you to make a comment about him too, but he’s stumped as you continue to ramble about otoya and the rest of his teammates. the question you ask is the final slap in the face and he wants to be rude, wants to ask if you have eyes, like working eyes, but he bites his tongue. maybe you'll remember if he helps you. 

“er, actually, i played in it,” he responds, a nice, easy going smile on his face, “i was pretty important too.” confidence blooms in his chest as he says it. clearly, you’ll remember now, evident by the way your eyes go wide and your mouth hangs open slightly. but that grin is wiped clear off his face when you respond:

“really?” you shrug, “i didn’t notice you.” 

karasu can’t find any words to say, his brain short-circuiting partly due to the fact that he thinks you’re the cutest person he’s ever seen and second, that you can remember hiori of all people. he’s slack jawed, with his brow furrowed, as you tilt your head with an audible, “hmm,” as you think. 

you shake your head, your fist coming into contact with your open palm, “nope. i’d definitely recognize rin itoshi and yoichi isagi.” you blink, lashes fluttery as you ask, “were you on the bench?” 

“nope.”

“were you subbed in?” 

“played the entire match.” he says, trying to give another smile, but it’s strained now and there’s a definite vein on his face. 

“jersey number?”

“six.” 

you shake your head once again, chirping, “nope! doesn’t ring a bell at all.” 

in a final act of desperation, he’s about to give you his name, but your manager calls for you before he can. you politely excuse yourself, shouting, “coming!” before you’re grabbing the kettle and scurrying off. 

otoya comes back within a few minutes, sitting down, before leaning back and going through his phone. he glances at karasu, who sits there for the second time today, slack jawed and staring; he can’t believe that actually just happened. otoya’s eyes trail over to where he’s looking, it’s you, taking orders and making drinks. 

“she’s cute,” he says, “think she’ll give me her number?” 

taken out of his trance, karasu grits his teeth, annoyed that that’s the first thing out of otoya’s mouth and, that yeah, you would give him your number. 

“didn’t ya just get a ton, outside?” he spits and otoya nods. “so then why’d ya need hers?” 

“because she’s a girl.” he replies and karasu sighs. 

“whatever, lets get outta here.” he signals for the check and to his dismay and slight delight, it’s you who brings it over. 

“hi,” otoya says as you set it down, taking his phone out. “can i have your number?” 

karasu rolls his eyes as you giggle out a “sure!”, but the sound gets his heart fluttering. he tries his best not to see you in his peripheral, trying to block out the way you lean down closer to otoya. as he grabs the checkbook, a slip of paper falls out and figuring it’s his copy of the check, he slips it into his pocket. he doesn’t notice the way your mouth curls up a little wider when he does that. 

when they’re finished paying, the two walk out, the bell on the door chiming, followed by your “thanks for coming!” otoya wastes no time sending you a text. “jackpot,” he says, before sending some texts to the girls he met earlier. 

karasu ignores him, opting to stick his hands in his pockets, feeling the slip of paper. he pulls it out, opening it up, trying to find something of interest, before he stops mid-step. it wasn’t his copy of the check. instead its your number, alongside a note that reads:

hehe. i know who you are, tabito karasu. you played defensive midfield. i wasn’t planning on teasing you like that, but then i would’ve had to admit you were my favorite player that match. btw, your accent is very cute.♡ 

he glances back at the cafe he was just in with a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his head. otoya tilts his head, asking, “you coming?” but karasu’s head is stuck in the clouds, broken out in full grin.

he’s completely smitten.

[daisynik7]

“Drank In My Cup” by Kirko Bangz for Connie Springer- Comfort + Smut

The lyrics: “Girl I know how much you really want somebody, want somebody that don't really need you” and “That ain't tryin' to love you baby, just fuck you instead” if that’s okay <3

Drank In My Cup

Girl I know how much you really want somebody, want somebody that don't really need you

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: friends-to-lovers trope, implied unrequited love, smut - blowjob, cunnilingus, vaginal sex (missionary), creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names.

Summary: Connie has been in love with you since college when you were living next door to each other in the dorms. He’s consoled you through countless of breakups and heard you in all your casual hookups. It hasn’t been easy for him and after graduation, he decides to move overseas in an attempt to get over you, cutting off all contact without explanation. Three years of radio silence later and the two of you finally reunite. 

Author’s Notes: Inspired by one of AugustInTheWinter’s Patreon exclusive audios. Honestly, so so good, if you have the ability to do so, subscribe to him, it is so worth the money. Anyways, thanks for this request for the y2k karaoke party! I love this song. Enjoy!

If you told Connie Springer five years ago that you wanted to spend the night, he would have agreed, no question. Today, as he anticipates your arrival, he almost regrets saying yes. 

A week ago, you contacted him, asking if you could stay at his place for the weekend while you’re here visiting. He checks the last text you sent him; it was five months ago, wishing him happy birthday. The one before that was exactly a year earlier, another birthday greeting. Your messages were more frequent then, but they gradually faded, probably because Connie never replied to any of them. 

He's not trying to be a dick. He’s just too much of a coward to admit that he’s doing his best to get over you. And if that means ignoring you completely, so be it. At what cost, though? Losing his best friend?

This time, he actually does respond to you. Maybe it’s because after three years of being apart, he finally feels ready to face you again. Tonight will be the test. Is this really the best idea for him?

You knock on his front door, weekender bag in hand, heart beating faster, excited to see him. The last time was graduation when he told you that he’d be moving away to Marley for his new job. He didn’t even tell you that he was applying to companies overseas, so of course, you were shocked. Your friendship hasn’t been the same since. You used to be inseparable; now, you’ve never felt further apart. 

He greets you politely when he answers the door, that familiar face instantly putting you at ease, despite the distance that’s grown between you. “Hey.”

“Hi, stranger,” you say, hugging him with your free arm. He’s tense when you touch him, not like his usual self. That’s one thing you always loved about Connie; how snugly he would hold you in his arms. It’s already awkward, but you continue to smile at him, hoping that whatever this tension is dissipates soon.

He leads you inside, taking your bag, setting it on the floor by one of the closed rooms. “Do you want a drink?”

“What do you have?” you ask, looking around his apartment, trying to find any remnants of your friendship. Pictures, ticket stubs from all the movies you watched together, all the little trinkets you’d get him as gifts for his birthdays. Nothing, there’s nothing in here. It barely looks decorated at all, except for a few posters he’s crookedly hung up.

“I’ve got water and some White Claws that have been festering in there since I moved here. Pick your poison.”

You laugh, happy to hear this side of him. “I’ll take the water, thanks.” You sit down on the couch, not sure where to start. “How have you been?”

He grabs a clean glass, turning the faucet on until your cup is almost filled to the brim. He carefully hands it to you, sitting as far away from you on the couch as possible. You shift in your seat, facing him, waiting for his answer. “Good. I’m good,” he says, avoiding your gaze, staring at the floor instead. 

You take a sip of water, expecting him to elaborate more, but he doesn’t. “Do you like living here? In Marley?”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. There’s not that much more going on here than there is in Paradis.”

“Do you think you’ll ever move back home?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, guarded. “I don’t have any reason to, so probably not.”

“Well, I can think of one reason,” you say. “I miss you.”

His jaw clenches, defenses still up. You scoot closer, wanting this distance to disappear, physically and figuratively. You’ve been waiting for this reunion since he left, since he stopped contacting you almost completely. Wanting to finally make it right with him, the way it should have been ever since you first became close to him in college. You knew he liked you; he was always so obvious about it. And yes, deep down, you liked him too. But you were scared of ruining your friendship, of losing your best friend. You were so used to all your relationships ending in a breakup, you were afraid to cross that line with Connie in fear of losing him forever. When you finally mustered the courage to confess to him on the night of graduation, he told you he’d be moving to Marley for work. Because of your cowardice, you ended losing him anyways. But you won’t let tonight go to waste. You’ll do everything you can to salvage this. Even after all these years of distance between you, you won’t make the same mistakes again. 

You close the gap, squeezing next to him on the couch. He glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“I miss you, Connie,” you whine, trying to free his arms from his chest. “Don’t you miss me?”

He shakes his head, relaxing only the slightest bit. “No, I don’t. I’ve worked too hard trying not miss you.”

“What do you mean?”

He finally looks at you, his gaze intense. “I moved because of you. I couldn’t take it anymore, watching you fall in love with every other guy except for me.”

“Connie.”

He unclenches, leaning towards you, face so close you can feel his breath on you as he speaks. “Do you know how hard it was for me? To hear you on the other side of the wall, moaning someone else’s name? And then months later, you’d come crying to me, wanting only my comfort to help you through your breakup. Then the cycle would just repeat over and over, driving me fucking insane because I could never have you for myself. I could only have you when you needed me, when you were heartbroken. Well, it wasn’t fucking fair okay? That’s why I left. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

You stare back at him, wide-eyed, heart thumping loudly in your chest. Quietly, you say, “I’m sorry, Connie. I…I didn’t know.”

He scoffs at you, rolling his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Why else would you come to me? You knew I was the only guy stupid enough to always say yes to you. So don’t fucking lie to me now and say that you didn’t know. You knew.”

You swallow hard before asking, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I? So I can get rejected and ruin our friendship? No. As much as I hated hearing you get fucked on the other side of the wall, I couldn’t stand not having you at all. Pretty fucked up, right?”

You remain still in your seat, unsure how to proceed from this. Eventually, he says, “You can stay here for the weekend, but I think it’s best if we just stop seeing each other after this, okay? It’s better for the both of us if we stop being friends.”

Before he can stand up to leave, you grab his wrist. “Well, good,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be friends anymore either.” You meet his lips with yours for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He melts into you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, easing into it. Realizing what’s happening, he pushes you off gently, stuttering, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You trail down his neck, sucking on his skin to leave love marks. “What I should have years ago.”

“You’re toying with me,” he whispers, closing his eyes, tipping your chin up to kiss you again. “Teasing me like you did all those times in college.”

“I’m not. I want it. I want you.” You lie back on the couch, spreading your legs for him. 

He crawls on top of you, sliding your pants and underwear off simultaneously, dropping them to the floor, salivating at the sight of your glistening cunt, wet with arousal. “Well, too bad. I don’t need you anymore. You won’t get what you want so easily this time. Not after all the torment you put me through. You need a taste of your own medicine first.” He shoves his sweats down, releasing his hard cock from his boxers, stroking it in his fist. With a shaky breath, he whispers, “Come on. Show me how badly you want it.”

You peer up at him, getting on all fours, opening your mouth with your tongue sticking out. He smirks, tracing the outline of your lips with the tip of his dick, smearing his precum on you like gloss. “Fuck, never thought I’d see you like this.” He guides himself inside you, exhaling deeply as he slides all the way to the back of your throat, cursing once more. You give him what he wants, never taking your gaze off him, guzzling down his cock with each thrust he gives you, bobbing your head along his shaft. 

“Damn, you feel even better than I imagined,” he moans, bucking his hips. After a couple more deep thrusts, you pull off quickly to catch your breath, wiping away the saliva leaking from your lips. “Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks in that concerned tone you love so much. He sounds exactly like he did in college, when he would cradle you gently in his arms as you cried about your latest heartbreak, completely oblivious to how much pain it caused him to see you like this. Connie would never break your heart; it took you too long to finally realize this. And maybe it’s too late to fix the damage that’s been done. But that doesn’t mean you won’t try. 

You nod silently, reaching for the coffee table to take a sip of water. He wipes the tears from your eyes, brushing them away with his thumbs. “Are you sure?”

You smile at him, sniffling. “I’m sure, Connie.”

His expression is uncertain again. He doesn’t know whether to stay mad at you or be sweet. He’s always been sweet, and that obviously never worked out for him. If he shows you his mean side, will you stay? Does he even want you to stay?

You surround him again with your mouth, sucking on his cock head with your fist wrapped around his shaft. He closes his eyes, indulging in the pleasure, enjoying it a little too much. He won’t deny it; this has been one of his biggest fantasies since college, to see you like this. To feel you moan around his cock. And as much as he wants to continue spitting hurtful comments to you, make you feel guilty for toying with him all this time, his need to pleasure you overtakes him. His most precious fantasy is to finally hear you moan his name, and no one else’s.

He pulls out of you, jerking off while he tips your chin up to face him. “What do you want, huh? Want my mouth on you? Want me to eat out this pretty pussy? Is that what you want? Because I’ll give it to you, if you let me.” He’s desperate for it now, and so are you. So all you do is nod with your mouth still open, needy for it. 

He eats you out sloppily, better than any guy you’ve been with. This is what he wanted, to prove to you that it should have been him all those times. And you regret it, all the useless hookups and casual relationships you put yourself through when you could have been with Connie instead. You come twice from his mouth before you start begging him to fuck you. “Please, baby.”

His eyes widen at the pet name, cock throbbing, ready to burst. “Okay, sweetie,” he huffs, composure wavering. “I’ll fuck you. I’ll give you what you want. I’m always giving you what you want.”

You hold him tightly, moaning his name while he fucks you with your legs wrapped around him. “You’re so good for me, baby. So fucking good for me,” he groans, drilling into you hard and fast. “I missed you so fucking much.” He orgasms with you, unloading his cum inside you, filling you up. You kiss passionately as the both of you come down from your highs, relaxing into each other’s arms. 

It’s silent for a moment before you say, “I was going to tell you. On graduation day.”

“Tell me what?” he asks, grazing your lips with his fingers.

“That I liked you, too. And I wanted us to be together.”

He sighs. “But I told you I was moving, so you didn’t go through with it.”

“Yeah.”

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Damn, we are really dumb, aren’t we?”

You giggle, nestling your face into his chest, relishing the familiar warmth. “Yeah, we are.”

He rests his chin on the top of your head, massaging your back. “So, should we stop being dumb and finally do this? The right way?”

You nod, smiling. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

[deadboyfriendd]

I Hope This Letter Finds You Well.

Summary: It is already so hot that it burns. The sheriff had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn't decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heatstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this.

A culmination of letters shared between family and new friends turns into a stand-off at the tarmac of Tucson, Arizona.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sheriff/Wyatt Earp!Steve Harrington x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, death of a spouse, period-appropriate death, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse, ride a cowboy, feminine rage embodied (I couldn't give her a gun this time because, if I did, everyone would be dead), eventual discussion of The Civil War and the politics that came from it.

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: This is it. Bisbee is here and it feels like I'm breathing life back into my cowboys through my sheriff. This is so, so special to me and @dr-aculaaa, and I cannot wait to tell you all their stories.

Find the series masterlist here!

“When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.” Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

Nellie, 

I believe that the face of death is a woman, and that she is beautiful. 

I believe that she may have loved my betrothed, at least as long as there was breath in his lungs and a thrum in his chest. I believe that William looked into her dark eyes and followed her into that unknown place, and I know, there, he might finally find something to still his mind. 

I believe that she kissed him good and hard, Nellie, in a way that I could not have done– that she danced her spindly dance clear across the desert, through the plains of the midlands, and splashed in the bayou of Louisiana until she found him. 

I believe that death is a friend to our family, that her sinewy arms loom over our men in an embrace that we can not provide, and I believe that she is warm. Much warmer than you or I have been created to be. I believe she walks alongside us, whispers into the ear of our husbands, and laughs as they dance their troublesome dances. 

I believe she is kind, much kinder than us, for why else would our men leave the safety of us for her? I cannot fathom it, Nellie. 

I no longer believe that death is cold and harsh, for I know that no man could be as cruel as she. 

We were always cut from the same cloth, in life, and now in death. 

Signed, your cousin. 

+

He could have said that he never wanted any trouble, and he could have said he didn’t go around picking fights, yet both seemed to find him with speed and vigor. He sought them out, begged for the metallic heat to seep from behind his teeth and drip down his lips like ambrosia. The boy could not read nor write, yet also harbored a taste for mindless violence– his gangly teenage frame a harbinger of death. 

The monsoon was fast approaching, dark clouds filling the sky in an apocalyptic haze, though the Lord knew this land needed it. The rain came down in heavy sheets, droplets weighing deep against the flesh and warm in strides. The powder dust beneath it stirred and settled in waves, and he prayed for no wind, for the wall of dust that would overtake them in the future just might suffocate him. He cried out in thirst, having mistaken this anguish for freedom. All he could do was turn his mouth towards the sky and hope it would wash away the rawness in his throat.

This heaviness did not go away with time nor age. The boy-now-man sifted through the powder silt of the remnants of his life the same way he sifted through these crises as a child, though with more sure steps and a heavier hand for subtlety. He no longer craved ambrose violence gilded in the candied sheen of shed blood, though it did not stop searching for him. 

He was out with lanterns, in search of himself. 

There used to be nothing here but a broad expanse of mirage, the heat rising from the sand and warping the distance into a false lake like a sick joke. He remembered the settlement. The miners came first, then the saloons, and dance halls. The cattle drovers and thieves would follow suit to reap their fortunes, but the plume of the mines came first. 

Still there is hope, an old miner had said to him, for I know of two Bibles in town. 

Though men of God and men of war both have strange affinities, it would seem. 

War, much like God, was here long before man. It crouched its ugly pose and waited for his arrival. The ultimate trade awaits the ultimate practitioner. 

Today, the oak planks, rotted from years in the sun, groan in the same anguish beneath his boots and he ignores it as much as the God he prayed to ignored his own cries. The bright orange of globe mallow presses its way between the planks, soft resilience even in this heat. When he reaches down to touch it, it crumbles between hardened finger pads. 

This township felt like a tunnel, a vignette blurring the Gaussian edges of its structures that settled like graves. His boots sunk a lowly sulk through the banks of the roads where wagon wheels had pushed them from their packing. He still felt the nothingness here, vast openness in which he awaited a tomahawk crowning, sinking into the same sand on his knees, candy-coated in that gilded red gloss. 

Through the nothingness there was a stirring, his eyes fixated on the microburst brewing along the mountain's edge in the distance. 

Thunder fades to wheels along tracks.

You’d watched the land turn from green to brown and back again. You’d watch the sun wick the water from the soil and feel it warm your skin. There’s a certain disdain that fills your chest like liquid when you picture Nellie on this trail. There was no train west to take. There was no railway. 

Did Nellie still look like her mother? Had her mouth begun to crease with a perpetual smile? Was her hair still long and did she still let it fall in ringlets down her back? Surely, she had not sounded the same in her letters, though, this sullen stranger had still signed the letters with the same swooping motions. 

As the trees became sparse and turned into gangly, reaching boojums, you realized just how far from home you had been. You had never left the great state of Louisiana but, had run those riverbeds and marshes ragged with bare feet, had run heels hard against the hollow tomb of that old paddle boat. Could you be as wild as the West? Would it love you in the same way the marshes had? Wrap you in its mossy embrace and let you sink beneath stagnant water in wait?

But for what? 

The sharecropping had been a logical by-product of everything your father had fought for in the war, rock salt and nails and hand over first for years under the lead of General Benjamin F. Butler, though no one could foresee the way the plantation had hemorrhaged money after he took on nearly ten hired men, or the way the land had would have dwindled to nothing had you not taken that ghastly, ugly burden against your back, one heavy enough to spur you west. One heavy enough that even the sting of the sunburn did nothing to quell the ache that you still felt in your chest against it. 

You watched the life drain from this land, music and the lush green of the coming summer turning to sweltering, daguerreotype daydreams. You pressed your palm against the glass and sighed. 

It was already warm enough to burn. 

When you pressed your face against the glass, you could feel the rumble of the hardened earth beneath the sodden tracks. The dried parchment of letters scraped against themselves where they pooled in the makeshift reservoir of your dresses ruched into your lap– just high enough so that your ankles could feel any movement within the waning stagnation of air in the train car. 

You tore the one on top open with your thumb– the last one to remain unopened. Its straight edge was too sharp and angled perfectly as you pulled at it, the edge of your thumb already pooling cherry beads of blood where it rippled. 

“Shit.” you cursed.

Gilded eyes peered towards you, slicing through the silence of this welling heat like ice. Had it been dark, they would have glowed. Ladies in Parisian hats tailing the woeful gazes of their well-tailored merchant husbands turning towards the spectacle that was you. Young. Unmarried. Unaccompanied and profane in your lack of grace aboard the train to the lawless lands. Maybe, by God’s hand, you had been cut from the same cloth as this lawless place– the rumble of the tracks a song to the listlessness that stirred in your chest like silt in distant waters. 

You dismissed the judgment, the venom of it all sliding off of you like that same water against a duck’s back, turning your attention back towards the product of your own disdain: Nellie’s letter, signed, sealed, and delivered to your last known location. 

Cousin, 

Your father has sent word about your arrival in Tucson, and I will meet you at the train depot in due time. I do hope that, in time, the heat of this land may dry your tears in the same way it has mine. 

I fear that you may not recognize me upon your arrival to Tucson, my face has grown harder and my body less soft. You will become this way, too. I am tough. I am afraid this place has weathered me like old leather. 

I have asked the sheriff to accompany me to the train depot in Tucson, and he has happily obliged. I didn’t think you would mind much, either. 

The sheriff is a nice man, as I am sure you have come to find, however, this land has hardened him in the same way it has hardened Edward and I. In the same way, it took Wilhelm as payment for some grander, more horrendous scheme.  I do not ask you to excuse his shortcomings– or mine– but I do ask that you try to understand us. 

Though it is better now than it has ever been, this place is still not like Louisiana. This land is lawless. This land is tough. This land does not make promises or send prayers. It exists as it is, rough and unbinding– blistering for all it is worth. 

We are the law, here. 

If we lose our morality, we lose everything. 

I will see you soon. I love you. 

Nellie. 

It was an unspoken truth that there was something broken much deeper within them that they had shared some form of solidarity within. Somehow, in some way, Nellie and Steve had shared something they never wanted you to see, but, even now, something was different about her in more recent letters that you couldn’t quite differentiate. 

Perhaps it was the way she told you she loved you. She hadn’t written those three words since writing of Wilhelm’s death. Maybe she said it then in search of the love she had lost, had looked for shreds of it to mend herself back together. Maybe Edward had done that for her, and maybe now she had some left to give. You hoped that much for her.

Edward was an entity unknown to you– a phantom in his own respects. He reaped his own form of morosity in the way he loved Nellie. He did so in a way that was devouring, in a way that encompassed her in every respect. You had been well past the persuasion of beautiful faces, for a face much like his was the face that launched a thousand ships. Another puppet wielded by The Devil, he was. That holy shape becomes a devil, best. 

It was an unholy thing, to resurrect the dead. And, you supposed, Edward had done just that. Nellie’s letters came to an abrupt halt after the announcement of the Death of Wilhelm. Your family, the only remaining kinship to her lineage, had not received a letter from her in over a year. 

You’d thought of all of the ways she could have died, but the most plausible cause was a broken heart. Even now, as rolling hills turned to planes and back again, as you watched the horrors that this land reaped, you could not see any of them taking your cousin. No, she was a force to be reckoned with. Not even this land could break her will. No, if she were to die here, now, it would have been by her hand. 

And then, by some unforsaken force beyond even your father’s control, Nellie breathed once more. Her letters were flowery, her writing curling into crashing waves of stories told. You watched as this solemn stranger breathed life back into Nellie, something as cruel and unusual as beauty in this place unseen and unheard of for years, beauty unseen to Nellie since Wilhem was killed. 

You knew of only unholy things that fed upon the dead– that breathed an ugly, hot breath back into their lungs and pulled them from the sodden earth in which they lay. Edward was not entirely truthful, that much you could tell. 

You supposed you and Edward had shared that sentiment, in some way. 

+

The Whispering Sands was still not the ritzy bar. That was still located in the lobby of The Grand Hotel, just footsteps from where The Sheriff stood now, planks still singing their groaning songs of protest beneath his legs, still stiff with sleep or nerves or years of failed prayer. 

His footfall fell heavy against the hollow floors, the weight of him reverberating against the early hum of the bar. The dealer was still as straight as a Christmastime wreath, though, now, he knew that this one could at least shoot in the right direction. You no longer needed to carry when you walked through, your spare now confined to below the counter out of sheer caution and the guiding hands of ghosts alone. The doors didn’t hang crooked anymore, the dealer making fast work of fixing all of the things Nellie had pushed to the back burner in relentless disembowelment of her own self-preservation that she so readily gave to him in the form of softened twine and spoken promises tightened around ring fingers. 

The Sheriff would not be so easy. His self-preservation ran deeper than that. 

Nellie knew it, knew that his roots were wrapped around something vital within him, something deeper than hers– something from a time before her, before this town, and before the West was wild.  

The echo of him reverberated off of the walls of the bar, bounced off of the piano, and rattled the windows. It demanded her attention long before the brass bell of the front door rang and the heavy oak clattered against the frame. 

8:50. Like clockwork. 

In the times before, just after Wilhelm, he would stop in and buy a cigar, though, to this day, she had never seen him smoke. She never inquired it, and he never inquired her. 

There was a solidarity in their grief, and it never quite, even now that she felt happy more times than not. She had a sneaking suspicion he was there for something other than a cigar every morning, but she pulled one from the humidor and took his money anyway. There had been a time where she insisted it was on the house. It wasn’t worth the fight, now. 

He looked different today. Still sullen is his strange, tortured way, but there was almost something beautiful about it, about the way he ruminated in this state of torture. Even in the way his stagnation had turned into just that with time, something seemed to still sit there in wait, leaden in the pit of his chest. 

He looked like the face of a handbill like this, enveloped in all black. Square-toed boots with black trousers that made him look ganglier than he was, made him loom over Nellie more than he already did. His black frock coat dusted his calves at a three-quarter length, and a black bolo tie covered as much of the stark white high-collar as possible. On the hat rack by the door sat his usual wide-brimmed Stetson, and, from just behind the plain silver of his belt buckle, the Colt Burtline Special shone in the light. 

He looked fit for a funeral.

He walked like he beckoned the apocalypse in clouds of rolling thunder behind him. When his heels pressed into the softened sand, the earth quaked beneath it. The weight of him made the stagecoach groan on its hinges– leaden and heavy with the weight of something bigger than settled silt within his chest, kicked up like the sand behind horse hooves and stagecoach wheels. 

Parchment sat like lead in his lap, curdling there and souring something that had sat too long. Cracking fingers curled around your words like poison, sweetened with sasparilla whiskey, golden ambergris letters seeping into him and warming his throat like bile and molten gold. He opened the first one with a nimbleness unlike one he had ever known, and read it once more:

25 April, 1894

To the Sheriff that this letter finds, 

I am afraid your letter has found me in a state of disrepair. I have never been one for niceties and I am afraid I do not have it in me to start now. 

My betrothed had never known peace in life, and I am afraid that he may not ever know it in death, wherever that plane Hell may be. 

Maybe it is I that has died, and maybe it is I that walks across this Hell. Maybe it is my own doing that brought me to this. Maybe I am the creature of my own undoing. I am not a nice girl, Steve. Not the nice girl you think I might be. 

We were raised like leather, stretched and scraped to be tough in the way that our mothers were, unbending and unbreaking as they had been. They were not forgiving, nor were they kind. Nellie was once that way, too. Though, I fear that your desert sun has softened her. That it changed something deeper within her in a way that she may be someone I no longer recognize. 

I plan to arrive in Tucson by train on the first of October. Maybe this sun will soften me in the same way it has softened my cousin. Maybe I don’t want it to. 

Though I hope for my tomorrow to be kind, I have an inkling that it never will be, for this life had never had a kindness to offer. 

I’ll be the one in white. 

I will see you then, Sheriff. 

He pictures the way you will step off the train, white linens spilling over the threshold of it by some sickened grace of the hand of an unkind God. He both relished in it and could not bear the thought. He thought of linens hiked over knees and rucked up under the fabric of itself, a  depiction of the implosion of his world. 

He had already lived this, soft hair against soft legs and white linens shed in a dustbowl around shared space and soft, breathlessness passed between lips. He had felt this kind of softness before– had known this tender touch of a woman outside of the mother he never had. 

It was the first time he had ever been touched gently. 

Even Nellie’s hand seemed gruff as it gripped his shoulders in a grounding movement, his eyes slowing with the movement of reading and dissipating into blankness an indicator that he had gone somewhere that even she would never be allowed to see. It was a look she had known all too well.

“I’m afraid she might not like me much.” He whispered, low enough for Eddie to not be able to hear– or, at least, low enough so he could pretend not to. She knew what he meant by this, another feeling chased after her own reanimated heart. 

Nevertheless, she avoided the philosophical nature of it all, answering him with the only thought she had: “I’m afraid she might not like anyone much, Steve.” She starts, and the questioning gaze he gives her urges her to continue. 

“It wasn’t easy for her, either, Steve.” She starts with another sigh, now more like the weight was being pressed out of her lungs from the weight that she felt, “Most of the time, it was out right hard.” 

“We’ve all had it hard, Nellie. Nothing about this life has been particularly easy.” Steve says back. He didn’t mean it to be as harsh as it was. She knew that, though it didn’t stop that initial sting of his dismissiveness.  

“William wasn’t a nice man, no matter how much she loved him.” She tells him, louder this time and too fast. Eddie couldn’t help the the way his eyes are drawn to her from where they are fixed to the periscope of landscape before them, “Forgive her if she isn’t welcoming.” 

+ 

To the Lady that may find this letter, I hope it finds her well

Tucson still radiates heat at this time of year, the mirage at the end of town makes the expanse of land between here and the mountains feel both endless and right in front of you at the same time. It warps like the heat is melting space and time itself. Nevertheless, the first blooms of orange mallow have begun to open in a patch where the stagecoach stopped. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he was inclined to plock them from the ground and brush the dirt from their roots. 

It seems the desert knew you would board the train in New Orleans and set west for us, and wanted to welcome you with its kindest hello. The desert is not kind, but she would make an exception for someone like you, I would suppose. 

The wheels screech along the wrought iron of the track as they slow to a halt– and he swears, just for a single, fleeting moment, his heart stops with them. There is a stream of people that step down. Ladies with large hats and square-shouldered men in frock coats not unlike his. He wonders if you will know your face before Nellie does– wonders if he knows who you are just from the curls of your letters. 

And then, you were there. 

You were unremarkable in every way possible, though, at a closer glance, you had chosen to forego a bustle and corset. Instead, the pliant lines of your body undefined against a white buttoned shirt and a long dark skirt. A plain, flat-brimmed stetson sat against the crown of your head, just enough to obscure your face from his view. 

Your cousin is very kind. I like to think that you are kind like her, though, I also hope that you are tough in the same way that she is.

He steps forward, his hands sticky with sweat or the sap of the stems of the orange mallow crushed beneath a pressing grip, he isn’t sure. As he steps on to the tarmac, he remembers his manners– remembers that he isn’t an animal and you are not inherently dangerous, and pulls off his hat, pressing it to his chest as he holds an arm out stiffly towards you without any further introduction. 

You see the star against his chest, pressed silver pinned there like a placard on the spectacle of the man before you, and know that this is him– that this is the entity whom has spilled his heart to you over parchment and ink and blood, “Well, now, those are awfully pretty, sheriff.” You say to him, looking down at the crushed orange matter in his hands. They have already begun to wilt. 

“I have an affinity for pretty things.” 

He flirts shamelessly with you, and something deep within you stirrs. It is not the schoolgirl crush you harbored with William. It isn’t even akin to love, but something worse and something ugly. His letters and flowery words and then his backtracking and condolences meddle into one ugly mass of insult. No, this thing that rose in you was not love, nor was it even a cousin. It was hate. Blinding, furious hate.

“And I have an affinity for men who can make up their minds.” You nod towards him, reaching towards the tarmac for the cracking handle of your green steamer trunk, especially now that the gangly, lean man you presume is Edward reaches for it. 

There is a moment in time where everyone freezes. Both Nellie and her husband, as well as the sheriff before you. They are walking a thin line, one akin to the silver thread between life and death. The tension is palpable, and Nellie shatters the thing you cling to for resolve like glass:

“Now you’re being outright childish–”

She sucks in a breath when you snap, the wild dogs that live within your chest writhing and pulling against chains as you release whatever hurt and pain you held in your heart towards her. Everything you had wanted to say, everything you wanted to scream back at her once she had resurrected. You weilded them now as weapons against her. 

“You sure are one to talk about childish, Nellie. You ran in the other direction when things got hard, and then you up and died on us.” 

“I’m not dead. I was never dead.”

“Well, I have a hard time believing that.”

The Sheriff and the tall man take a step back behind Nellie, shrink away from your thunderous roar as if you might actually bite. The leather of your handle and the steamer dropping from your hand with had resonant patriarchal basso against the tarmac. Time has frozen in place, but people continue to swirl around you in a flurry of haste and posthaste annoyance. Silver tears well against the pink line of her eyes, and you are acutely aware that yours are a mirror image.

Steve had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn’t decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heartstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this– his wife was only ever tender. 

He can see the rage drip from your mouth like hot, molten tar, can see the tears well in your eyes like casted silver against the mold of your face– the way a single one cools and leaves a residual streak against the ashen skin of your cheek. You want to love Nellie, in the same way she wanted to love Edward, and in the way he loved his wife. He can see it, that burning want so bad that it becomes hatred. That kind of love whose flame burns blue. 

He knows Nellie loves you, too, but also knows how dangerous it is to speak it aloud– lest that vile maiden Death may hear it. 

Your eyes stare holes into him, burn against his abdomen from where you fix them. He had heard of women becoming alight with lust born from rage before, but had not though of you to be insane enough to eye him in a familiar way right here on the tarmac. That blue flame affixed to him and warming him from the inside, as well. 

“That’s an awfully ugly belt buckle, sheriff.” You speak, finally, breaking the silence and restoring some semblance of order to this congregation. 

This place is not forgiving, nor is it kind. I hope that your heart is not faint, and I hope that this place is kinder to you than it has been to us. 

With warmest regards, 

Steven Harrington

[tuttle-4077]

Let's Gooooo!

Another character biography/headcanon dump. Featuring...

Klink 

Born in 1894 in Cologne Germany, Klink spent his childhood unloved and with few friends. His father was a low-level officer in the army, the last remnant of an impoverished aristocratic family, and his mother, his father’s third cousin, was the daughter of a Prussian English teacher. His mother, Emilia, became very ill after his birth and never quite regained her stamina. Sickly and bitter, she often berated her son for the smallest things and Klink never measured up to his parents’ expectations. Though he tried hard, he was a middling student. He found some solace in music and took up the violin which he loved to play even if he did so terribly. 

On a visit to Prussia, his grandfather took him to a stage play and he was instantly sucked into the idea of being an actor, which would allow him to pretend to be someone else. He desperately wanted to act, but, of course, his parents forbade it.

One bright spot in his life was his aunt, Hedwig, a good-natured woman. She would occasionally have him over for tea with her lady friends, who doted on him. Aunt Hedwig’s friend, Clara Müller, had a daughter, Emma, who often watched Klink when his parents needed time away from him. He was heartbroken when an American came along and swept Emma off her feet and away from Germany.

Klink wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life. He didn’t seem to excel anywhere. Finally his father suggested he join the army. Klink did so, joining the Luftstreitkräfte. He soared! He loved to fly and was very good at it. During WWI he was making a name for himself when his plane was shot. He crashed into a tree and barely escaped the burning wreckage of his plane. Shaken, he went on another mission, but the young, brash pilot had been given a taste of his own mortality and it terrified him. Soon, he found excuses to avoid missions. One fateful day, he was tasked with flying with The Blue Baron. When they encountered enemy flyers, Klink panicked and caused another crash. He escaped unscathed. The Blue Baron was not so lucky. After that, his failures quickly overshadowed whatever merit he had built up. When his father died in the trenches, he requested and was granted a transfer to a desk job, where he stayed for many years.

Traumatized and discouraged by the war, Klink kept a low profile. He briefly came to life after seeing his first movie in cinemas. He was entranced, and renewed his efforts to be an actor. He knew America was where the future of cinema lay and, with his knowledge of English, tried to emigrate. Unfortunately, his mother intervened. Though she had no great love for her son, she didn’t want to see him move so far away, knowing he would fail there without anyone to help him. He wasn’t much, but he was the only legacy she had.

Time moved in a blur. Klink had thoughts of marriage, but even though he had a great advantage (he was alive!) he could never find the one. The war had left him anxious and self-conscious, and his attempts to appear confident often backfired and drove women away. He resigned himself to a lonely life of pushing papers. He barely noticed what was happening around him with The Depression, the political upheavals, and the eventual rise of the Nazis, keeping his nose in his paperwork to avoid being tossed out of the army and left floundering. 

It wasn’t until a paper crossed his desk, signalling the dismissal of an old Luftstreitkräfte friend, that he perked up. That was followed by an order for another old friend to be sent to a concentration camp for political dissidents. Klink began to investigate. The first friend, a war hero and respected officer, had been dismissed for the crime of being Jewish. The other was virulently opposed to the Nazi regime and not afraid to say so. Now awake, he found that he, too, opposed the Nazis. But, having become accustomed to keeping his head down, and with no real way to fight back, he kept quiet. The war started, and still he kept quiet. Until, that is, another friend was executed for merely questioning one of Hitler’s decisions. He knew he had to do something but what? 

The opportunity came in the form of Nimrod. He presented Klink with an opportunity. The wheels were finally in motion for a plan Nimrod had concocted before the war even started. He had sat on it so as not to draw suspicion to himself or the place of his operation. He gave Klink the opportunity to be the Kommandant of Stalag 13. There he would have a perfect, no escape record. But he would need to play the fool. To the German command, he couldn’t appear too competent, otherwise he would be transferred. Stalag 13 would have to become his niche. No one could suspect he was anything more than a jailor, not even the prisoners who would be running an underground organization in the tunnels below. He would have to subtly push back on the prisoners to keep them from going overboard, but to also give them easy victories to boost their confidence. It was the acting job of a lifetime. Klink thought about it long and hard and decided this was his chance. He accepted the job.

At Stalag 13, he tried to put up a menacing front. He occasionally pushed back against Hogan. But he found it was much easier to simply become the fool rather than just play it. He knew what was happening, but he trusted Hogan enough to keep them all out of trouble. He slept easier pretending he didn’t know what was going on. And if he happened to transfer out personnel who seemed a little gung-ho, or he forgot to requisition more ammunition for his guards, well, those things sometimes happened in war. And when Hogan got a little too cocky, Klink wasn’t above bringing in the British Group Captain, Crittendon, just to annoy him. He knew it would all work out.

It wasn’t until the very end, after Hochstetter had taken Newkirk and Carter away that he knew he had to step in. With Hogan down with pneumonia, Klink confessed to Kinch and LeBeau that he knew. Together, they managed to free Newkirk and Carter. After that, Klink, his men, and his prisoners did their best to keep their overcrowded camp functioning as they awaited liberation. When the Allies finally broke through The Ruhr Pocket, Klink was ready; he formally surrendered to the Allies.

He was taken to London as a prisoner of war and questioned about his involvement. Like Schultz, he too was almost killed by an assassin, but Hogan saved him. And, again, like Schultz he was given some monetary compensation for his involvement with the Papa Bear organization.

He returned to Germany without a plan. He was recruited to act as a translator for the occupying forces. He advocated for the fair treatment of the civilian population, although that often fell on deaf ears until American attitudes changed with the blockade of Berlin and a new enemy emerged. Eventually, Klink found work as a bookkeeper at the Schatze Toy Company.

Klink met up with Hogan and Newkirk a few times while they were traveling through Europe, but for the most part, he put the war behind him. He eventually moved to New York City, where he was again employed as a bookkeeper and spent most of his free time at the symphony or at plays. He died at the ripe old age of 87, outliving Schultz, Hogan, and Carter. His funeral was attended by a few friends, but none of his war-time acquaintances.

[formulalfc]

an-the highly requested part 2 of Walls Around My Heart, I hope you like it!! <3

Part 1

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Walls Around My Heart

tw-swearing

You had sat in the toilet of the bar for around half an hour before you decided you had had enough of feeling sorry for yourself and ordered an uber to take you back to the hotel you and Charles were staying in.

You were in two minds about going back, you didn’t want to see Charles tonight, but you were in a city you didn’t know and didn’t feel safe enough to figure out finding your own place to stay.

Your fear overtook your sadness and anger, and you shuffled your way through the crowded club, making sure to avoid anyone you recognised.

You managed to find your way out through the exit, and you stood out front, arms wrapped around yourself to keep you warm. You were quickly regretting wearing the little red dress you had put on because you knew how much Charles loved seeing you in red.

Your uber pulled up and you slid in, politely greeting the driver before you looked out the window and enjoyed the quite sounds of the radio as you replayed the course of the evening in your head.

It wasn’t long before your uber had arrived outside your hotel and you thanked your driver before stepping out the car and pushing through the revolving door of the hotel.

You kept your head down as you walked, knowing that the whole team was here and not wanting to bump into anyone that would tell Charles you were here.

You rushed over to the elevator, pressing the button of your floor and watching as the door started to slide shut, but just before they closed a body hurtled full speed through the gap and stopped just in front of where you were stood.

It took you a moment to realise just who had stumbled into the elevator with you, a scoff coming out of your mouth at the sight of your dishevelled boyfriend.

He looked at you, taking in the redness of your eyes and the remnants of the mascara you had been wearing smeared down your cheeks before he slammed his hand against the emergency stop button causing the elevator to come screeching to a halt.

He ran a hand through his hair before he spoke, “I fucked up. I fucked up bad and I’m so sorry baby. I should have noticed that you were uncomfortable and more importantly I should have listened to you when you told me and done something about it. I know the team can be closed off to new people, we spend so much time together that we’ve become a family but that is no excuse for anyone to make you feel as though you don’t belong there. You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life, my best friend in the whole world and you are always going to be the most important person in any room we are in. I’m so ashamed that I made you feel like you weren’t and I’m going to make it up for you in any way I can if you’ll let me?”

You looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes, saw the way his chest heaved up and down from running to catch up to you in the elevator and knew in your heart he was already forgiven.

You said nothing to him just hit the emergency button again as you smirked, “you cant start your apology by ordering me room service, I’m starving.”

He laughed as he pulled you into his chest and placed a kiss on your head mumbling, “anything for you, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[mehmetminded]

White and Black and Gold

(Part 2)

By: MehmetMinded

Potential spoilers for Beware of Chicken and Cradle!

[Iteration 873 Scale]

Lindon was very confused as he sat at the broad table laden with food. The thing this “Jin” had told him had pushed what little composure he had managed to maintain to its breaking point. Was this man just casually admitting to a violation of fate? Or was he really not aware? Question after question whirled in his mind as he sat. He could feel his madra tremble in his channels, ever so slightly. A non-ascended being would never notice, but it was a bad sign.

[For someone with a reputation as a ‘strong silent type’ you sure do worry a lot.]

Worrying is what’s kept us alive so far, Lindon thought, I’d rather not lose the habit now.

[Sure! Sure! Just so long as you can keep that ever present anxiety from swallowing your every waking thought! You can do that right? How hard could it be? I can’t wait to find out!]

Dross wasn’t helping, but he was trying and that on its own helped center him just a little. Heavens, Lindon had even lost his breathing technique. It wasn’t as though he needed to breathe at this point, but the rhythm was so ingrained into him it took a real shock to knock him out of it. If this man had truly come from another world then that would be a violation of fate. While it wasn’t exactly Lindon’s job to correct such deviations, NOT doing so when presented with the opportunity would raise some eyebrows among the court. The last thing The Reapers needed right now was MORE suspicion-

Lindon’s thoughts were interrupted when another presence made itself known. Down the stairs came a small woman with short greenish hair and amethyst eyes that reminded Lindon of Mercy. Though, where Mercy’s eyes were bright and filled with joy, this woman’s gaze was sharp, her not insignificant willpower honed to a wicked edge. Jin’s will had been a large, diffuse thing. Heavy as a mountain, but spread out across the surrounding lands. This woman’s willpower was dense. Honed into a scalpel that lanced into him, attempting to peel open his soul as a soulsmith did a remnant. A few years ago, Lindon would have been pinned to the spot by her gaze alone, but he had grown since then. Her razor sharp will found no purchase. Lindon was as wintersteel before her, even weakened as he was. He stood calmly from his seat and bowed to her in the manner of his homeland.

“Greetings, my name is Lindon. I was invited in by the master of the house.”

The woman glanced at his dreadgod arm and sniffed once, before meeting his gaze a moment longer. Her willpower faded away like a dream as she sighed.

“Meiling.” The woman said as she seemed to let go of her tension, “If my husband trusts you, then I suppose that’s endorsement enough. Can I get you some tea?”

Though he wasn’t much of a tea drinker he was not so uncouth as to decline.

“Gratitude. Tea sounds lovely.”

_________________________________________

Honestly I had no idea what to make of this Lindon guy. Given how shit I was at qi sensing I couldn’t nail down his power exactly, but it reminded me of gramps. His intent spanned the horizon and the heavens themselves seemed to still in his presence. Long story short, he was strong. Really strong. Like stronger than me, gramps, and the Cloudy Sword Sect put together. But he seemed nice enough. He was polite to a fault and carried himself with the slight awkwardness of someone who hadn’t had a lot of friends as a kid.

“So,” I said, setting down the last of the food and taking a seat next to Meimei, across from our guest, “You’re one tough cookie, bud. That can’t have come from nowhere, what’s your story?”

Lindon looked taken aback by the question.

“You don’t want to know why I’m here?”

I shrugged. “None of my business what a man does with his time.”

The indifference was an act of course, I was dying to know what this guy was doing here, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of a bunch of people.

“Very well,” Lindon said, “I was born in a distant land known as Sacred Valley…”

The story we were treated to was as xianxia as you could get. A boy cast off by his culture, defying his fate with the help of the heavens, eventually destroying the tyrants and monsters that ruled his homeland and ascending a hero.

Lindon seemed to relax more and more as he told his story, speaking with fondness of experiences that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I mean seriously, his description of what he did to refine his body was downright disturbing. From what he told us, his whole existence is centered around cultivation. He lives and breathes self-improvement like some kind of gym-bro from hell.

There was clearly something deeply wrong with this guy, but he seemed like a good egg. A bit thick headed, but he seemed to mean well.

“…and after excavating the last of The Labyrinth, Blue, Orthos, and I narrowly managed to ascend. The state of The Heavens being what it is, it's a miracle we made it in one piece.”

By now the rest of the house had moved on to start the day’s work, so Lindon and I sat alone at the table. As he finished his tale he seemed to be judging my reaction. I said just about the only thing I could after hearing that.

“Holy shit…”

____________________________________________

Do you have anything for me Dross?

Lindon hadn’t been idle as he told Jin his story. He had Dross rifling through The Way, searching for anything in the past, present or even any potential futures that might explain who or what this man was. Dross could read his fate simply enough. The man was still a mortal after all.

Rou Jin, born Jin Rou in Crimson Crucible City, trained by a wandering expert and admitted to The Cloudy Sword Sect. There he was nearly killed in a duel and left to become a farmer. It was all there for him to see.

And yet.

His mannerisms were odd. He had a way of speaking unlike anything Dross could find on this iteration. And he had known. He knew Lindon wasn’t a native immortal, returned to the world.

And he had implied that he was the same.

[I have literally everything for you Lindon. Every detail of his entire life down to the second. Unless you meant in regards to why his spirit is like that. In that case, I’ve got nothing.]

Dross had drawn Lindon’s attention to it almost immediately. There was a nearly imperceptible flaw in Jin’s soul, a tiny thread of gold that bound the two halves together.

Keep working on it, Lindon sent.

“Jin,” Lindon said aloud, “may I ask you a question?”

The man shook himself out of his stupor at Lindon's question, “Huh? Oh! Sure, ask away!”

“Why farming? Someone with your obvious talent could have gone far. You may have even ascended to the heavens. Even if you wanted to give up cultivation, why settle for such a humble life?”

Lindon had a guess, but seeing how the man responded would help Dross build his model.

“Well, to be honest, I kind of did give up on cultivation. I was fully ready to pack it in and be a farmer for the rest of my life. The fact that I got this strong was more or less an accident…”

The man repaid Lindon’s story with his own. It wasn’t the facts that Lindon was interested in, he had those already. He wanted to see what mattered to Rou Jin, what events were important to him. He spoke with a detached fondness about his birth family, their deaths were old scars now and he had made his peace with them. He talked for a long time about his adoptive grandfather, the wandering expert Shen Yu. He spoke of his adoption by the old man, the beginnings of his training. He complained only half seriously about the “old bastard” abandoning him to the sect that nearly let him be killed. He spoke little of his actual time in the sect save for the time he had spent refining his plant bolstering technique. He glossed over the duel that had almost ended him, mentioning only that a senior disciple Lu Ri had returned his exit fee. From there his tale grew stranger. There were spirit beast attacks and a desperate trek north to be away from it all. He spoke of the Azure Hills and of his new home. He talked with pride about each and every member of his odd family, as though their achievements were his own.

The sun was high by the time Rou Jin finished his story and Lindon held a newfound respect for the man along with a more complicated emotion.

[Is that the beginnings of jealousy I’m detecting? Need I remind you that you can crack planets in half with a punch?]

He’s content Dross, Lindon thought, he’s genuinely happy where he is. I’m not made of stone.

[No, you’re much much tougher than stone. I can feel you about to correct me but I got it. Just don’t forget about what you have while you pine after what you don’t.]

Dross was probably right, but Lindon couldn’t deny the small thread of envy that wormed its way into his heart. Some part of him longed for the peace Rou Jin had found on his small farm. He took a sip of the now cold tea to try and drown the feeling.

“So,” Jin said, “how long before your boss comes down here and drags you back to work?”

Lindon spat tea everywhere.

_______________________________________

Part 2 is finally done! I totally didn’t completely forget about this project for half a year! Part 3 soon! (I hope)

[millerscoffee]

they don't love you like i love you

1.7k | frankie morales x f!reader

thank you @addictedtotlou for this prompt idea under “You want to do something for me? How about this?” X says. “Leave me the fuck alone and never come back” | and for your inspiration! i loved this idea so much. i hope it's to your liking ♡ i could've been with these two for a lot longer, but i had to wrap it up!! 😭

warning: angst, flirting, will they/won't they, benny will & pope are around!, house party, frankie's lowkey a fuckboy if you squint but look at those puppy eyes - we won't say nothin' 🤭

A/N: this is part of my 500 followers celebration running until 9/9 ♡

You’ve known the Miller family for a while.  Your parents were close friends with Will and Benny’s and they felt so much more like brothers than children of your parents’ friends.  You were friends with them as well.  Supported them throughout their careers, were there for them in times of struggle and times of success.

So when Will asked you if the three of you could throw a party at your parent’s summer home, it was easy to say yes.  Despite the impending dread that came with the fact Catfish and Pope were at the top of the list to be invited.

It’s not that you didn’t like them.  You got along with almost all of Benny and Will’s friends.  The last time you saw them, with Frankie specifically.  You remember it, your mouth all filled with rum, Morales chasing your lips until you came to your senses.  It was wrong, plus Will came out the very second your lips almost touched.

You were all friends, and you didn’t want to jeopardise anything.  You didn’t kiss him that night, and that didn’t bode over well.

It wasn’t that Frankie was a jerk about it, it just… changed things.  The awkward silence filled between the two of you for your own inability to let it happen.  You thought about the ghosting of his lips, the warmth, just before you pulled away.

As visceral and heartbreaking as it was, you decided on a black party dress that cut at your thighs tonight.

Why?  Even though deep down you knew the reason why, you couldn’t bring yourself to see it.

Benny lets out a whistle when he sees you and you laugh, shoving him lightly.  “That’s gonna do it!” he drawls and you make a face in his direction.

“What on earth are you talkin’ about?!”

He nudges your hip on the way to grab a beer, “Keep pretending, that’s alright.”

And before you can get a response, you see Pope out of your periphery first.  A wave of butterflies rise, and then like a ton of bricks, you see it: Frankie and a girl on his arm.

“Ho-ly shit,” Benny says beside you, handing you a cold beer before loosely wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “didn’t know ‘bout that one, champ.”

You feel the knot form in the back of your throat, and Pope catches you right away.

“Hey, hey,” he is hushed, pulling you in a hug and you’re consumed by the scent of his cologne, the height of him ushering the sight of Frankie and this girl laughing from you.  “I’m sorry,” Pope’s voice is quiet, specifically for you, and it’s like you could drop the beer from the disconnect you feel.  Why are you feeling this way, and why is everyone feeling bad for you?  Making it so you’re okay without even asking if you were okay.

You pull out of Santiago’s hug politely and shrug it off, blinking any remnants of tears away – your makeup was too pretty for this.  “Sorry for what?  Do you want a beer?”

Switch: off.  Just like that.

Still, it remained.  You almost kissed Frankie.  You flirted with him constantly.  He had the audacity of inviting someone to your party in your family’s summer home.

You can’t even look at him.  “Hey,” you say dryly, brushing past Frankie on the way to be a good host – to grab Pope a beer.  Pope flashes Frankie an apologetic look at your coattails and brushes his hand to the top of your back when you both make it to the kitchen.  Frankie, out from view in a different part of the house as Will and Benny greet him and the mystery woman, escorting them outside.  A diversion.

You hear Pope say your name, and that’s when you turn around – tears tempting the brim.

“Why’d you follow me?” You sound so pitiful, Santi can’t help but wrap you up in a hug, and this time you allow it.

“Listen, I tried to talk him out of this, but he’s pretty beat up about you rejecting him.  Wanted to take his mind off of you… yeah, don’t give me that look.  I don’t know why he’s here either, then.”

You calm yourself down.  Not that you were sobbing, but fuck, how could you not get emotional about this? It was becoming obvious, Benny’s crass words were ringing true.  You were dressed up for Frankie, and you didn’t want him to be with anyone else.

Pope takes his beer, and cups your shoulder when he sees Will come into the kitchen.  “I’ll leave you two alone.  You need me, you tell me.  Alright, cariño?”  you nod, and watch him nod in Will’s direction, before it’s just the two of you.

You take a swig of the yeasty liquid and turn your back to the counter with a long, contemplative sigh.

“What the fuck do I do, Will?”

“You want my opinion?  That’s a first,” he gruffs and you roll your eyes.  But it does make you smile and brings you out of your headspace.  He was good for that.

“For once.  you‘re the one who told me I should be with Frankie in the first place.  I feel so stupid.”  you gesture at your dress.  Of course, everyone looked pretty good, but you couldn’t help but feel out of place now.  You wanted nothing more than to put on your sweatpants and forget about tonight.  Kick everyone out.  But you knew that just wasn’t an option.  And besides, you wanted to have some fun yourself.

“You know what you should do?” Will asks rhetorically, “You should take Catfish aside and tell him how you feel.  It’s the only way either of you will get through this bullshit.”

Crass was a Miller trait.  But he was right.

After another moment, you nod – hoisting yourself from your back to stand tall, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Okay.  I’ll do it.”

You mustered courage to walk out to the firepit where everyone was, and you felt it again – the urge to cry, to run, the very second you saw the girl and Frankie smiling at each other and talking.  It was like clockwork, like it was timed perfectly for your arrival.

“Catfish,” you say dryly.  Not using his real name, but instead the name set aside for his friends.  Since that’s how he felt you were, after all.  He pulls away from her with knit brows and a pouty bottom lip, and you swallow hard.  “Could I see you?  Over there?”  you tilt your head towards the house.

It’s not lost on you the way he hasn’t said a word to you since he got here, but he agrees.  Tells the girl he’ll be back, and Will walks in on the scene – joining the other two boys whose mouths are borderline agape.

Frankie follows you, sliding the glass door behind him, and you both walk towards the couch for some privacy.

“Listen,” he finally speaks, and when you do it churns your stomach.  The life that is brought to him rather than some entity in the room.  You shift further away from him and shake your head.

“You listen.  You want to do something for me?” your eyes fill with tears, tongue connecting to the inside of your cheek.  “How about this?”  Leave me the fuck alone, and never come back.”

It is childish.  Counterintuitive to why you brought him in here, but you are hurt.  You are upset.  And he sees that, now.

This was a puzzle piece he couldn’t see before.  You seemed so nonchalant about it all before this, unbothered about whether or not the two of you got together.

But Frankie won’t let this happen.  Not after all the hell the two of you went through in preventing this inevitability to happen. 

“Mierda, I’m a fucking idiot,” he starts and you swallow your words as soon as they come out.  Fuck.  Pope was right.  Frankie seems genuinely upset by his actions that you don’t know how to recover right away.  You can’t really tell him he’s not an idiot, because fuck – you feel that way.  You feel like he should’ve talked to you.

But then again, what would you have said?

“Frankie, I–” you start, annoyed at yourself for unraveling for him almost instantly.

“No, don’t talk, okay?  Please?  I’m so sorry.  The guys, they tried to tell me, I didn’t listen.  I haven’t– I haven’t moved on.  Or anything…,” and he trails off this time, and his eyes look so full and sad – it makes you want to forget.

“Frankie,” you don’t recognise the tears in your eyes until they’re spilling over your cheeks because fuck, it’s been emotional since he arrived.  But he won’t let you finish your sentence, his lips are on yours – large hands on either side of your face and you reciprocate, fingers tying tightly into his shirt, crying and laughing into the kiss.  A mixture of feelings rapture you both.

“We’ve been pretty fucking stupid, huh?” you sniffle when you both inevitably pull away, he thumbs under your eyes – musn’t dare mess up your makeup any further.  Not on his watch.

“Only slightly, hermosa.  I’ll make up for it.”

You tempt your hand closer to his.  “We have the time.”

---

As other people start to pile in outside, you scan the backyard and Frankie wraps his arm around your shoulder.  “I should probably apologise to her,” he says but his gaze doesn’t leave you, “brought her out here just to leave her?  It’s kind of a dick move.  I’m all fucked up.”

“Well, did you tell her you love her?”

Frankie snorts, wrapping your head closer to his chest, “No, I was saving that fo– you know what, never mind.”

Your cheeks flush, but that’s exactly when you get the sights of her and Benny – him with his hand against the wall outside, the obvious flirt.  And she seems into it.

“I think she’s in good hands.”

Frankie shakes his head, “Motherfucker.” you both laugh before you squeeze his hip.

No longer waiting for new, it was right there at your fingertips.

And, wow, was it going to be so sweet.

[lattesqueeze]

💙 i am here requesting politely a drunken kiss for lando/charles...please........ thank you

hello my sweetie love!! thank you for your polite request!! please find below the attached kiss for your perusal

(i love you so so much thank you for this!!! made the brain go brrrrr)

Lando/Charles - Drunken Kiss - 700 words

“Lando, we can be world champion I said!!” A voice yells across the bar.

Charles and Lando turn to each other and roll their eyes in unison. A long-dead meme that seems to never quite leave them alone. Tonight, though, neither of them really mind. Tonight, Lando feels like he could be a world champion. Tonight, nobody can touch him. Tonight, Lando will go to bed a Formula One race winner. Assuming he goes to bed at all.

This is a fact he can’t quite get over yet. He expects it will take a few days at the very least for it to truly sink in.

The club is packed, and Lando has lost his friends somewhere deep in the crowd. He has a habit of wandering off blindly on his own, and frequently finds himself absorbed into a new group of complete strangers. Tonight is no different, and he relishes the attention from everyone who passes him by. Well, tonight would be no different, if he didn’t feel on top of the world right now.

He closes his eyes, swaying in a manner that he thinks is in time with the music. His shirt, previously only loosely buttoned, has somehow come entirely undone, his bare chest sticky with champagne and the remnants of a whole cocktail of shots. Each time he tips his head one way or the other, it feels as though his eyes and his brain take just a second longer to catch up, reminding him of the odd, lingering motion of stepping off a yacht after a weekend in the sun.

His mind wanders just enough before a firm hand clasps him on the shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes straight away, only smiles. What’s another well-wisher, after all? He takes a deep breath, about to sigh contentedly, when he recognises a familiar, niche cologne. Only one person he has ever met wears this cologne.

“Charles?” He pronounces the name with a hard syllable, the English way.

“Lando, mate, we lost you!”

Lando leans back against Charles’ solid chest, relaxing his shoulders. He shrugs, still smiling so wide his lips part a little at the corners. He feels arms wrap around him, feels the snag of a crystal bracelet catching on the hairs of his own arm.

Someone, somewhere, tosses a huge Union Jack over Lando’s head, and he squeaks in alarm. The flag settles to cover him and Charles in a shroud of red, white, and blue. Charles laughs, moves to bundle up the flag, but Lando stops him, turning around to face him.

“Did I tell you before? You smell really good. Like, really good.” Lando leans forward to mumble into Charles’ ear.

Always polite, always gracious, Charles smiles and thanks Lando noncommittally, again going to wrap the flag around his hand to remove it from their heads. Again, Lando stops him, this time catching him by the wrist.

“I like it in here.”

He stares into Charles’ eyes, doing his very best to focus his own. Charles blinks, bemused.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Like what?” Lando feigns innocence, smiling sweetly. He thinks.

Charles just quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Like - I don’t know.”

“Are you serious?” Lando huffs. “Why do you think?”

Lando doesn’t leave space or time for Charles to answer. He closes the minuscule gap between them with no more than a lean, and presses his mouth against Charles’. Charles startles at the contact, but, crucially, doesn’t pull away. Lando takes this as a cue, and snakes his arms around Charles’ neck, shimmying his body ever-closer, wedging his leg snugly between Charles’ thighs.

Charles responds in kind, grinding against the stiff denim of Lando’s jeans. He squeezes him at the waist, at the hips, at the ass. He runs his thumb along Lando’s bones, his soft parts, the edges of each defined muscle. He toys with the front closure of Lando’s jeans. It’s all Lando can do to keep up with the desperate, breathy kisses, licking eagerly at Charles’ mouth and nibbling on his lip.

“Feels good, no? Winning.”

Lando whines in response.

“Can we go?” Lando begs, wrestling with the flag to bat it away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Charles grins, offering some semblance of a wink.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

March 19th

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1. itmf

a) nhs and wwx friendship PLEASE, preferably with the same vibes as seen in crazy rich cultivators by shanaatoryteller (he called wwx by affectionate nicknames and was ready to throw down with lwj for him at the minor perceived slight), i just need nhs genuinely loving wwx in a non-shippy way

b) wwx support system! him having people who love and will help him in any way they can! him not having to shoulder so many burdens alone!

1A)

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that’s spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh) NHS finds WWX post-Untamed canon & helps him

🔒 like mayflies wandering series by RoseThorne (E, 21k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Ghosts, Reconciliation, Exhaustion, Pining, Pre-Wangxian, Pining, Feelings Realization, Illnesses, ennui, Found Family, Porn Reading, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulative NHS, Memories, WWX Needs a Hug, Pining WWX, Friendship, NHS Is A Little Shit, Qi Deviation, Resentful Energy, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Triggers, Fainting, Anal Sex, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Grief/Mourning)

1B)

拨云见日 by RoseThorne (G, 1k, WangXian,. Post-Canon, Justice, Anger, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, Restitution, Self-Indulgent, POV Third Person, POV WWX)

~*~

2. I wish to know what fics you're especially excited to read next from your TBR!

Something at the Door by Pip (Moirail) (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, background 3zun, Background Yi City trio, Intrusive Thoughts, Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mystery, Urban Fantasy) this one got recced by a friend on discord and it looked soooo interesting but time is not on my side

the past drifts away with the waves by thelastdboy (E, 52k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, WIP, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, canon divergence, fall of lotus pier, major characger undeath, YZY being an asshole, implied/referenced child abuse, minor character death, major character injury, amputation, loss of limbs, transformation, merpeople, fierce corpse WWX, kind of, merperson WWX, resentful creature WWX, undead WWX, riverspirit WWX, it gets worse before it gets better, heavy angst w happy ending, no sunshot, hurt/comfort, politics, not cultivation world friendly, slow burn, getting together, revenge, demonic cultivation, WWX pov, dark WWX, monsterfucker LWJ, wen remnants live, sect leader WQ)

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3. Hey, I was wondering if there are any fics, after the whole story, where Wangxian's relationship with JC is extensive /repaired? @mihashi-kun

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

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4. Heellloooo <3 for the next itmf im looking for fics where wwx is lwj’s favorite person/best friend (apart from also being a couple/in love) like lwj seeking wwx out and looking for him, wanting to spend time with him, being shamelessly friends with him, and everybody knows that they’re a package deal

I Wish You Would by brooklinegirl (E, 51k, wangxian, LWJ FUCKS, jerking off, so much jerking off, wangxian/others, but OTP endgame, "straight" boy WWX, Modern Setting) is a friends-to-lovers with a nice friendship at its core. Focus is definitely on their path into a sexual relationship, though, it's not just about being friends, in case that isn't what you're looking for.

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5. Please give me some serious self harming fics. Real angst. I don't care if people think me cringe or weird for wanting therapy and comfort from a fanfiction, but I've been feeling self destructive lately and the deeper and deeper cuts on my arms are a testament to it. I cannot ground myself. I've been too alone and lonely lately. I love reading. Please give me some ground to sit down for a while

Twin Demons of Mò by XiaoFeiFei (M, 358k, MXY & WWX, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Abuse, Twin Demons of Mo, MXY Lives, Major Character Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Minor Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Canon Divergence, Self-Harm, Found Family, Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, POV Alternating)

could also check the Heavy Angst comp, there's sure to be something there

~*~

6. Hello I'm here for wwx protection squad dynamics. Like I want fics where wwx doesn't have to do anything, before he wants anything or before anyone could do to harm him or anything, there are people defending him and keeping him safe.

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, [Podfic] the stone-filled sea by yukla by Beria1021, the stone-filled sea [Podfic] by BrickGrass)

💖Teen Project to Change the World animeloverhomura (Not rated, 810k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Watching the Show, With a bit of the Manhua and Book thrown in, scharacters watching the future, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery)

Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, wangxian, hualian, WIP, TGCF, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, characters watching their series, Time Travel Fix-it)

~*~

7. Hello!!!!!!! Love all the hard work you put into this blog! I’m in the mood for fics featuring wangxian growing together, like fics with adorable kids wangxian and then awkward preteen wangxian and then finally growing into their skins young adult wangxian and all that

Thxxxxx

soft-hearted by sarahyyy (G, 6k, WangXian, Childhood Friends, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, First Kiss, Wedding Fluff)

Hope series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, wangxian, WWX & YZY, WWX & JFM, WWX & JYL, YZY/JFM, JC & WWX, LQR & WWX, LXC & JYL, Madam Jin & YZY, LQR & JFM, LXC & LWJ, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death)

~*~

8. Hello! ITMF blind!Wei Wuxian? Canon or modern. thank you!

🧡 close your eyes, feel my heartbeatby ThatDesiGirl (T, 11k, WangXian, blind!WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rewriting Canon, not a fix-it but a what-if, Golden Core Transfer) WWX is blind, but MXY isn't

The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant) link in #16

~*~

9. hiiii hope you all are well!!! I'm itmf your favorite memory loss/amnesia fics pls! thank u and have a lovely day 🩷 @loveshinesbrightly

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)

~*~

10. hii! for imtf: anything with true loves kiss or something really sad (or both) (no omegaverse pls). thank you!!

🧡 Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions) It's only a small moment, but a curse is lifted with a kiss

what else is there? by mme_anxious (T, 13k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Swan Princess AU, Everybody Lives, who isn't already dead, Magic, Animal Transformation, Curses, Angst, Humor, Happy Ending, Kissing)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, wangxian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

with such a suffering, such a deadly life by cqlorphan (T, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, affection, touch-starved LWJ, LWJ whump, cuddling & snuggling, love confessions)

a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved LWJ)

Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with Happy Ending) it's kind of true love's kiss adjacent?

~*~

11. Hi! I was curious if there were any fics like, Seven Second to the End? Where basically Wei Wuxian sought out Lan Wangji as soon as he woke up in mxy body or there wasn’t the elaborate pretending to be mxy on wwx side?

~*~

12. heyy hope you're doing good! do you know any fics that are similar to 'and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow'?

~*~

13. Are there anymore fics like " heaven has no rage " by flipfloppandas ?

~*~

14. Hi! For itmf does anyone know of any Yunmeng-bros fics where they have a good relationship and Wei Wuxian returns to Yunmeng Jiang after his resurrection? Thank you so much!

❤️ By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 31k, Wangxian, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Misunderstandings, Identity Porn, Identity reveal)

The Twin Blades of Yunmeng by GhostySword, ofmindelans (T, 89k, JC & WWX, wangxian, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, BAMF JC, protective LWJ, Golden Core Reveal, Swords and Feelings, WWX Resurrection, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Embedded Images, Sect Leader QS)

~*~

15. ITMF cultivators having super senses? Like heightened eyesight, hearing, strength, etc. There is a sentinel/guide fic I really enjoyed, “Hyperprosexia” by malkinmalkout, that dealt with heightened senses and I would love more like that. Thank you so much!

Zhalyn series by meiqi (Silver_Shadow_09) (T, 16k, wangxian, WWX & WQ, LWJ & WQ, WWX & WN, WN & WWX & LWJ & WQ, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Golden Core, Golden Core Reveal, But not how you think, OP WWX, one self-sacrificial idiot and his two emotionally constipated best friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Location: Cloud Recesses, Location: Lotus Pier, Good Friend WQ, Doctor WQ, Good Friend LWJ, Case Fic, LanWenWei besties - now with two Wens, Self-Discovery, WQ is So Done, LWJ Has Friends, Cinnamon Roll WN, Good Friend WQ, Good Friend WN, Team as Family, Annoying WWX) wwx has even stronger senses than most cultivators in this

~*~

16. Hello again! Thank you for your recs!

I was wondering if you could rec some fics with sentient burial mounds, like- them being protective of wwx, sort of treating him like- either as the master/chosen/hier of burial mounds or something? Or any story with ghosts/spirits being protective of wwx or treating him as a sort of leader or something? Just want some wwx & supernatural goodness lol.

Also, any fics with wwx being sort of like- strangely in tune with nature? And maybe people being freaked out by his connection to the nature or dead. Like - cryptid vibes wwx lol

Thank you!!!

in the blossom season (in the pouring rain) by varnes (M, 13k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, [Podfic of] in the blossom season (in the pouring rain) by exmanhater)

What Lies Beneath These Hallowed Woods by meekome (M, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Sentient Burial Mounds, of the cosmic horror variety, Eldritch WWX, Monster WWX, Body Horror, Eventual Happy Ending, after a lot of whump Fix-It, Canon Divergence, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Hurt WWX, Blood and Injury, but he gets better I swear, Suicidal Thoughts, WWX Lacks Self-Preservation Instincts, Protective LWJ, BAMF WWX, YLLZ WWX, YLLZ LWJ, Sunshot Campaign, Communication, Married WangXian)

The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, WIP, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant)

To Be Named by Suibian_613 (T, 39k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Out of Character, WQ is out of character, Everyone is probably ooc, canonical violence, Canonical Character Death, JYL lives, Somewhat Sentient Burial Mounds, WN and JC Rivalry, Sibling Rivalry)

Blood of the Black Earth by wirevix (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Xuánwǔ of Slaughter Cave, Sunshot Campaign, Sad with a Happy Ending, Ghost WWX, Monster WWX, Canonical Character Death, Although not at the canonical time, Grief/Mourning, Good Sibling JC, Horror)

~*~

17. Hello! I'm looking for fics with:-

A) rich wwx!! As in- he's like rich af, but people don't know it? Like he's very normal about it but doesn't advertise the fact that he could buy everything he wants. I'd also like if he's big on donating, or just helping people in general and stuff.

B) wwx doing dangerous stuff like volunteering in places with natural disasters/civil unrest, etc. Him being very into activism and stuff

C) jealous sizhui...like- he's jealous of wwx paying attention to other kids and stuff. Maybe something like- wwx thinks sizhui has lwj as father figure, doesn't remember him, or maybe he'll be bothered if wwx acts too familiar or something? So he keeps his distance. It could be a modern au too, or any fic where wwx adopts other kids/is a mentor figure to them/has close relationship with them and sizhui is jealous of that??

I appreciate you taking the time to do this!

17A)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

Sizhui's Smiles by RenaFair (T, 11k, wangxian, Possessive Behavior, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha LSZ, Mpreg, Minor Child Character Death, Read the summary between the lines) it has dark Sizhui jealous over wangxian's new baby

17C)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***