#which leads to this long spiel about morality where i sort out my thoughts about furuya

[alternatefandom]

The Three Faces of Furuya Rei, or: what moral philosophy does Furuya Rei subscribe to?

Furuya Rei is a fascinating character that can be difficult to understand. This is complicated by the fact that he presents three very different faces to us. Our very first impression of him was as the kindly waiter and detective, Amuro Tooru; next we are shown the antagonist, Bourbon, and last, we discover the driving force behind them: the undercover agent, Furuya Rei. These three personas act in a very different way, especially Bourbon, making Rei’s true motives and morality somewhat opaque to us. In this meta I will analyze Rei’s actions and motives in order to discern the true school of morality that he believes in.

There are three major theories of morality; virtue ethics, utilitarianism, and deontology. However, in this meta I will be brush on ethical egoism as well. Let us first talk about the relevant theories.

Virtue Ethics is first and foremost concerned with character. Here, we judge right and wrong based on whether or not it is virtuous. A person’s action reflects on their character; a virtuous person will do virtuous actions, and vice versa. Therefore, virtue ethics defines virtuous actions as the right action.

Utilitarianism, on the other hand, defines right and wrong based on the consequence of the action. It is concerned with outcomes; in utilitarianism, the end justifies the means. As long as the action results in the greatest good for the greatest number of people, it is right.

Lastly, Deontology defines right and wrong based on what the duty of the subject is. It is concerned with motives; as long as the person was trying to fulfill their duty, then it is right according to deontology. What the duty itself is, of course, subject to argument.

Now out of these three moral theories, which one does Furuya Rei follow?

To analyze this, I will be including materials from the Zero the Enforcer movie as well. This is because in my opinion, we don't actually get much insight into Rei's motives in the manga; we are told what he wants, but we’re not really told why, at least not enough to explain how he justifies his actions for himself. Now let’s get to the analysis itself.

First things first, I think we can safely say that Furuya Rei doesn’t subscribe to virtue ethics. In his debut as Amuro Tooru, in the private eye case, we see him allow Banba, a murder suspect, to destroy exonerating evidence. We also see him create a wrong deduction that almost damned an innocent man. With what we know of his deductive capabilities, as well as the fact that he had all pieces of the evidence and knowledge required to solve the case from the beginning, it is highly implied that he deliberately risked Banba’s freedom just to test Kogoro. Hardly the actions of a virtuous man. It should be noted, however, that in this case, Rei had still maintained control of the situation, thereby allowing him to keep the worst-case scenario from happening; as a PSB member, he would still be capable of exonerating Banba later.

I deliberately did not mention the Detectives’ Nocturne case, the Mystery Train case, as well as the Elementary Teacher Assault case, as I don’t believe that the evidence presented in these cases can conclusively point to Rei’s true intentions. There are always possible alternative interpretations that makes his actions possibly virtuous. However, I will mention the Zero the Enforcer movie. This movie clearly lays out that Rei is definitely not a nice person, and doesn’t mind that other people knows that about him. He deliberately framed Kogoro as a terrorism suspect; fabricated evidence, bugged Conan’s phone, and was generally manipulative. Thus, from the evidence, we can conclusively say that neither manga!Rei nor movie!Rei follow the school of Virtue Ethics.

The second school of ethics we will analyze is utilitarianism. In utilitarianism, the end justifies the means. For Furuya Rei, ‘the end’ would probably be the downfall of the Black Organization, or, taking it further, the safety of Japan and its citizens. I have seen some people take the point of view that Rei had wanted to kill Sherry in the Mystery Train, so that she wouldn’t produce more works that could be used to harm innocents; if this is true, then he would definitely be an utilitarian. However, I’ve argued before that Rei had not intended to kill Shiho and instead had wanted to spirit her to safety, as she is a valuable lead into Elena Miyano’s whereabouts. Therefore, the Mystery Train case should not be taken as evidence that Rei is an utilitarian. 

As there is no evidence that Rei is an utilitarian, one way or another, one could argue that we could take Rei’s willingness to do morally-questionable things as evidence that he thinks it will lead to a better outcome for everyone, if not for one notable case: Akai Shuuichi.

In my opinion, utilitarianism is a very rational and cold moral philosophy; it is a moral school perfectly suited to geniuses, masterminds, and detectives like Rei. However, when it comes to Akai Shuuichi, we see Rei display zero reason. There is no obvious rationale why taking Akai out of the game would result in a better outcome for all, and Rei doesn’t even attempt to explain it; nonetheless, he continues to hunt Akai without any sense of guilt, which implies that he thinks hunting Akai is the correct course of action (note that I don’t necessarily think that Rei wants to kill Akai, despite what he said--more on that later). This implies that Furuya Rei does not necessarily believe in utilitarianism. 

This brings us to the last major ethical theory: Deontology. Deontology is concerned with duty; it takes motive into account more than the actions itself. And Rei has so kindly told us which duty he has dedicated himself to in the Elementary School Assault case.

That’s correct; he’s dedicated himself to his lovely, lovely Japan. Conan said it best:

“I was sure that since he said that to the FBI investigators... those beliefs!”

It becomes even clearer if you look at the Zero the Enforcer movie. There, Rei clearly states what he thought of his job to Kazami.

In other words, our job isn’t always nice or even legal, but we have to finish it because it’s our duty.

If we take the point of view that Rei subscribes to deontology, a lot of his action becomes immediately explainable. He cuts contact with his old friends all to make sure they were safe, but he risks returning Hiromitsu’s cellphone to his older brother because he feels that it’s his duty as Hiromitsu’s friend. Arguably, he hunts Akai Shuuichi out of duty to his fallen friend, and yes, to his country. Akai, after all, was not only involved in Scotch’s death; he’s also operating illegally in Rei’s territory. This would explain why Rei brings PSB agents instead BO agents into the Scarlet Showdown; if Rei intended to kill Akai one way or another, bringing BO agents is definitely the way to do it. This is because bringing PSB means Akai would fall into PSB custody, and there Rei cannot do whatever he likes with Akai; he must answer to his superiors in the PSB. I believe that despite what Akai said, here Rei had only intended to arrest Akai.

So why, then, did he say that he wished to kill Akai, right in front of Okiya Subaru’s face? This brings us to my last theory: it’s because to figure out how to act, Rei aligns each of his three faces to a different moral theory.

Amuro Tooru, quite obviously, follows virtue ethics. He is polite, kind, always helpful, always cheerful. He does not do morally questionable things; he is an upstanding member of society.

Furuya Rei, as we’ve discussed, is a deontologist.  He is dutiful to his friends and country but now he has no friends left so really it’s just his country. His ‘lover’ is Japan itself, and he is willing to do anything--anything--to keep her safe.

And Bourbon? Bourbon would probably loosely follow ethical egoism. It is out of the question for Rei to create an absolutely amoral persona for Bourbon--it would unnecessarily conflict with his deontologist morality. However, to fit in the Black Organization, he needs to create someone who would do terrible things without needing to justify it with ‘duty’ or ‘the greater good’. Someone who wouldn’t just do anything that’s asked of him too, so Rei could reasonably rein Bourbon in. Rei would probably style Bourbon as someone who looks out for his own interests, and only his own, whatever that may be.

And so when Rei wants to hunt down Shuuichi Akai, Bourbon would say that it’s because in his interest to do so--because he bears a grudge against Akai, perhaps, and as an organization member, murdering Akai is the only way to resolve it. Bourbon would investigate Okiya Subaru and corner him, but Rei wouldn’t bring the Organization into their confrontation. Bourbon would threaten Okiya Subaru with death--but Rei wouldn’t pull Okiya’s collar down and condemn him right then and there. Because at the end of the day, the one holding the wheels is Rei, not Bourbon, and whatever he may say, Furuya Rei is a dutiful police officer, and he believes in justice.

[seulbby]

until forever falls apart

╰┈➤ in which y/n has to figure out life without harry, and harry has never felt this way before.

╰┈➤ part two to someone you loved

⧖ harry styles x fem!reader

⧖ warnings: swearing angst, toxicity, reader is bi and if you have a problem with that: cry abt it i couldn't care less :), talks of anxiety (if that bothers you read something else i have written or request something!)

⧖ a/n: if you want, listen to the following songs while reading: me and my husband by mitski, as the world caves in by matt maltese, moral of the story by ashe! thank you!

masterlist

•°. *࿐

4 days after the breakup

y/n and harry. the perfect couple. that's what people pictured when they heard their names. they were seen as the perfect couple by everyone. it was a reality, until it wasn't.

every couple has their fair share of fights. it's unhealthy if you bottle anything up. y/n and harry didn't argue often, every once in a while. when harry was being to narcissistic or when y/n put her career first. it was perfectly fine. until harry had enough y/n guessed.

y/n had no idea what lead to the downfall of their relationship. they had been together for so long. y/n planned out their life together. growing old together. starting a family wasn't in the stars for y/n, she didn't not like kids, but couldn't see herself being a mom. that was the only thing that was stopping her from literally getting on one knee and proposing to harry on their third date. he's always wanted kids.

y/n thinks that this might be a blessing in disguise. they won't that unfathomable talk, "it's not you, it's me". she wouldn't be able to bear it.

as she was lost in thought, she heard a knock at the door. y/n was confused. after the fight/breakup with harry she got on a flight to new york and was staying at her apartment there, and no one knew she was here besides her mom. when she looked through the peephole she was sort of relieved, sort of not. she didn't want to see anyone, but if she had to she was glad it was her best friend.

when y/n opened the door, lily walked. lily has been her best friend since she was little. their moms were best friends forever also, so it was in the cards for them. she likes having lily by her side because she knows how the whole 'celebrity' thing works, being an actress and johnny depp and vanessa paradis' child.

so yes, y/n is getting better she supposes.

•°. *࿐

harry was having the time of his life. he can finally be with this mistress out in the open like he's always wanted. he keeps getting questioned on where y/n is and what happened to their relationship. which he has been ignoring. along with his friends calls wondering what also happened with the relationship.

harry has always been a private guy, so his fans, y/n's fans, and the media were confused on why he was being so open with his new relationship.

he was having the time of his life being free, or so he thought. after 4 or so days after the break up, he started to feel alone. yes, he had his mistress, fallon was it? but harry has never felt so alone sitting in his room in the house they shared. he knows it’s his fault. of course it is. he drove her away without a second thought because he wanted to sleep with other people. and he got the chance, it didn’t feel right to him. no one was better for him then y/n. now he realizes it. and now he doesn’t even know where she is and how he would fix this. 

•°. *࿐

2 months later

y/n was feeling good. she’s back to work and is filming her new marvel disney+ series, nyx, about the greek goddess of the night. she’s back with hanging out with her friends again, and she’s done a few photoshoots for some campaigns and magazines. some say she’s doing the best she ever has been. 

she hasn’t. y/n is missing something. she can feel her heart beating out of her chest and can feel her fingers get shaky. she also is religiously redecorating her new york apartment, something she does to cope with these new found things that are happening to her. 

so after a night of redecorating her living room because she got a new throw pillow, she sees someone is calling her. it’s an unknown number. 

she picks up, “hello this is y/n. who’s this?”. shes used to getting calls from random numbers, from getting callbacks to prank calls. so this is nothing new. “y/n? it’s- it’s harry lovie” thats when she can literally feel her heart trying to get out of her chest. 

“harry? why are calling me it’s 2 in the morning” well, it is for her, its eleven for him. 

“are you in new york? it’s eleven here.” that’s when she knew she fucked up. she didn’t want harry to know where she was, incase he wanted to plead his case (which was highly unlikely) or so she thought. 

“im working on a project here. again why are you calling?” she knows she’s being mean, but he cheated in her so. karma. 

 “i wanted to talk. i know it’s late for you so i'll let you go” y/n wants to badly to hang up. to act like he never called, but that void in her chest is filling so she continues on with the call. 

“okay, talk then” she wants to see what he has to say.

“okay fuck. i miss you. and i know this might sound utter bullshit. but i do. not like i ever have. i can’t do certain things because we used to do them together. i still can’t even sleep on your side of the fucking bed. that makes me sound like a pathetic idiot but it doesn’t matter. i’m sorry. i hurt you in the worst way, and i will hate myself everyday for it. i need you like i never needed you before. this is probably the hardest thing i’ve ever had to so because i hate saying i am wrong. but if it means getting to wakeup with you, and see you everyday that it’s worth it” after harry was finished with spiel. y/n is shocked. this wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. 

she’s silent for a moment. “lovie, are you there?” harry asks. of course im still fucking here she thinks. 

“i don’t know what you want me to say” y/n, in the first time in her entire life, it rendered speechless. “you cheat on me, tell me you no longer love me, and then call me two months later saying you miss me? your making no sense” 

“i know lovie. i’ve been trying to figure out a way to say it the best i could but i got tired of waiting.” y/n is tired. she’s so tired and wants to go to bed until january.

“i have to go.” and with that she hangs up. 

[melatovnik]

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

-

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you’re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

-

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

~

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

~

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

--

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

-

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

~

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

-

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

-

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

-

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

~

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

[thejovianmute]

A Different Way Home, Ch 1 (FMA, Roy/Ed)

Title: A Different Way Home

Author: TheJovianMute

Rating: Explicit (in later chapters, this first one's pretty mild)

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (any, since it's AU)

Pairing: Ed Elric/Roy Mustang

Tags: Alternate Universe, Prostitution, Hooker Roy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rape, Violence, PTSD, Eventual Happy Ending

Summary:  Roy's standing on a freezing street corner, his body for sale and his pride long-since-gone, when the boy in the red coat approaches him.  

Author's Notes:

A long while ago, in a brief burst of confidence, I posted my first fic.  Since then my confidence tanked, and I haven't managed to convince myself to do it again.  Then Ed and Roy Week popped up on my dash, and I remembered I'd started a RoyEd fic which would pretty much fit the bill.  So I pushed myself to finish the first chapter properly, and here I am, posting it with an hour to spare - go me!  I'm determined to keep going with this one - I'm not a fast writer, but I'll get there eventually.

This is set in a modern-day, alchemy-less Amestria.  Roy's a little more broken than the one we know, and has fallen a lot further down.  I've come across a few hooker-Ed fics but haven't yet found one with Roy on that side of the fence, so decided to flip the tables.  There's some dark stuff in later chapters, but the payoff will hopefully be worth it - hurt/comfort is pretty much my favourite thing <3

Chapter 1:

Roy shivers in the freezing night air, the chill of the bricks he's leaning against seeping through the worn cotton of his t-shirt.  He'd kill for a jacket, but he gets more attention without it; the t-shirt a size too small to show off the lines of his body.  He no longer has the definition he once did, knows he's skirting the edge between slender and 'too thin' these days, but that seems to appeal to a certain sort of customer.

Not that he's having much luck tonight. He's been standing on this frigid corner for half an hour already without a hint of interest.  Business is always slow on a Monday night, he knows, but hopefully it will pick up - not only does he need the money, but even just five or ten minutes in a heated car would give him a chance to warm up a little.  He rubs his hands together, trying to create a little heat with the friction.  It's times like this that he almost - almost - misses the desert heat.

Roy's scanning for potential marks when he catches sight of the figure in red walking his way.  He squints a little to try and make out more detail; his vision is particularly poor at night, faces little more than shadowed blurs until they get within a couple of feet and he can make out actual features.  The figure's small, though, and has what he assumes is a spill of long golden hair over one shoulder.  Roy spares a moment to wonder whether the girl knows what kind of risk she's taking, walking through this part of the city alone at night.  It's none of his business, of course - and considering where he's ended up it'd be a little hypocritical for him to be giving advice on poor life choices.  The girl slides from his thoughts quickly enough as he goes back to looking out for tricks, occasionally stamping his feet, trying to restore circulation to his icy toes.

But the figure in red stops in front of him instead of continuing on past, and - despite what is indeed a long blond ponytail - the flat chest and angled jawline he can finally make out reveal the error in his assumption: this isn't a girl at all, it's a teenaged boy.  The boy has his hands shoved into his pockets, feet planted solidly, his expression a mix of curiosity, determination and defiance as he stares at Roy intently.

"Can I help you?"  Roy asks mildly.  

The boy's eyes are a bright, almost luminescent amber beneath the sodium glow of the streetlights, matching the fall of golden hair.  It's a striking look, especially paired with the black pants and shirt, topped by the blood-red coat.

The kid continues to stare at him, and Roy is just about to let loose a sarcastic comment when the kid abruptly finds his tongue, blurting:  "How much?"  The words seem to startle the boy as much as they startle Roy, if his mortified expression is anything to go by.

Roy raises an eyebrow, and then makes a show of looking the boy up and down.  He's not the best judge of age, but he doubts this guy is older than fifteen or sixteen.  "I don't fuck kids," he says bluntly.  The boy is cute, but even if underage was his thing - which it isn't - he wouldn't risk that kind of pick-up out in the open like this.

The boy's expression darkens, his face flushing with a sudden anger, but he makes a visible attempt to rein himself in before replying.  "I'm not a kid."

Roy raises both eyebrows this time in blatant disbelief.  

The kid scowls at him.  "I'm eighteen.  I'm a goddamn university student."    

It's possible, Roy muses, looking the guy over again.  He has something of an ageless face himself, able to pass for twenty as easily as thirty - another thing that draws his clientele to him.  The kid is short, only a scant inch or two above the five foot mark, but his build is solid enough, his shoulders square.

Still, it's better to be paranoid than arrested.  "ID?"  Roy asks.  

"Seriously!?"  The kid explodes, muttering dire invectives under his breath.  "I'm being IDed by a hooker?  What the fuck is my life?"

"You're welcome to try a hooker with a more flexible moral code if you so desire," Roy says, gesturing further down the street to where he knows some of the other guys work this time of night.  There's a small group of them that band together for protection, but Roy's always been a loner.  

The boy glances in the direction Roy indicates, but quickly shakes his head. "No.  No, I want you."  His cheeks flush pink with embarrassment as he says it, but his mouth presses into a determined line, as if daring Roy to doubt his resolve.

And that is interesting.  Roy wonders what exactly it is about him that's drawn this particular kid.  He knows that his mixed-race features are a draw for some men: the raven hair and dark eyes of his mother, combined with the pale Amestrian skin of his father.  But generally it's the bigger guys that go for the Xingese look; the ones who get off on having someone smaller and lighter to manhandle and dominate.  It's not something Roy particularly enjoys, but he's not in a position to turn down anyone willing to pay for his time.

Speaking of which.  The kid is reaching into his pocket now, still scowling, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open, sliding out a small rectangle of plastic.  He holds it up for Roy to inspect with a defiant expression.  It's unexpectedly appealing, the stubborn little V between his brows, the determined jut of his jaw.  So many of the men he encounters are jaded and emotionally numb, using him to try desperately to feel something, that this kid's spirit burns magnesium-bright in comparison.

Roy looks down at the card, making out the colour and layout of a local driver's licence, but in the dim lighting he hasn't got a hope of reading the text, and he curses his deficient vision yet again.  Still, it makes little sense for the kid to show him a licence which proves him to be under-age, so odds are it backs up his claim.  It could be a fake, of course, but these days the fakes are so good he probably couldn't make out the difference even if he could see.  

"All right," Roy allows, deciding to go with it for now.  

The kid puts the card back in his wallet and shoves it back in his pocket with apparent satisfaction.  "So, how much?"  He asks, repeating his original question.

Roy is somewhat nonplussed by the kid's stubborn determination.  The guy's gorgeous and seems personable enough, if a little forthright, and Roy wonders what the hell he's doing picking up a hooker.  The kid could walk into any gay bar or club and would draw men like flies to honey -

Roy knows exactly how popular young-looking twinks are with the gay crowd.  

Still, it's not Roy's place to question the motivations of his clients, he's just here to do his job and get paid.

"Four thousand cenz for a hand, six for my mouth, ten if you want to fuck me.  I don't fuck without protection, and anything kinky costs extra."  The spiel is rote by now, and Roy rattles it off without even an internal flinch - unlike his first few days on the job, when every crude word had bruised his sense of self to the core.

The kid considers this for a moment.  "What about if I want you to, uh, fuck me?"

Roy manages to keep his expression bland despite the unexpectedness of the question.  It's not something he's been asked for before - which is fortunate, because he's not the sort who can get an erection on command.  He's not sure he could get into it enough to be able to fuck a client; he can't recall many previous tricks who have genuinely turned him on.  And it's been a long time - longer than he wants to think about - since he last had sex because he wanted to.

His first instinct is to reject the request, tell the kid that that particular activity isn't on the menu, but something makes him hesitate.  There's a long-buried part of him that's flickering to life, tentative embers glowing faintly in the darkness.  The kid is gorgeous, there's no denying that, but Roy's had good-looking customers before and looks have never been enough to jump-start his engine alone.  It's a combination of everything about this particular kid - his earnest eyes, his stubborn, determined mouth, and the bright, aggressive flare of life inside of him - that draws Roy like a moth to a flame.    

He thinks, to his surprise, that maybe it's something he could do with this kid.  With him, rather than to him.  It's a dangerous way to think - he learnt a long time ago that trust and hope in other people only ever leads to pain - and moths are all-too-often consumed by the flames they seek.  But still, that faint, tentative flicker of desire is there inside of him, and he thinks that perhaps it could be fanned into flames of genuine - and perhaps mutual - want.

"Fucking's ten thousand, either way," he says, hoping it comes out more casually than he feels.

The boy nods acknowledgement, seemingly unaware of Roy's inner turmoil.  "So, where do you, uh… usually go, to do… it?"  He asks, wincing at the awkwardness of the words.

"Car or hotel, generally," Roy answers, resisting the way his mouth wants to curl into a smile.  The kid's naivety is amusing, but Roy can't quite help finding it adorable as well.  

"Would it be all right to go to my place?"

Roy shrugs.  "If you'd prefer.  It doesn't make any difference to me."  He usually ends up in cars or hotel rooms because his clients don't want a whore sullying their their own beds - even if they don't have wives or girlfriends to hide him from.  But Roy has no issue with the idea itself - a home is likely to mean heating, and a reasonably comfortable bed.  

The kid hesitates, and then asks boldly:  "What about if I wanted you to stay all night?"

"The entire night?"  Roy raises an eyebrow, and the kid nods confirmation.  

On a slow night he makes a couple of hundred.  On a good night, he can take home a hundred thousand, although those are the nights he ends up crawling into bed at dawn, feeling scoured and hollow and used.  But to be out of the cold for the entire evening is pretty appealing; tempting enough for him to apply a discount on what he'd otherwise be tempted to charge.  

"Sixty thousand," Roy says.  "Payment up front."  

Roy wonders whether the price will be enough to scare the kid off.  He hardly looks like the sort who has hundreds to burn on hookers whenever he feels like it.  Nothing about him indicates wealth: his boots are worn and scuffed and the tears in his canvas satchel have obviously been mended by hand.  Nothing he's wearing is designer or labelled.  He looks like any other university student, with enough cash to scrape by, even if the last few meals each month are instant noodles.

But the kid doesn't so much as wince, nodding as if the amount is entirely reasonable.

"All right, then," the kid says with satisfaction.  "It's a deal."

"Agreed."

There is silence for a few moments as the kid's expression transforms into something uncomfortable, his gaze sliding off to the side and his weight shifting from one foot to the other.  It's the sort of awkwardness he usually sees when somebody is working themselves up to ask for something particularly kinky or degrading. Roy has a moment to start worrying about what exactly the boy wants to do to him, before the kid seems to come to some kind of conclusion, raises his chin defiantly, and pulls the glove off his right hand to reveal a fairly high-tech prosthesis.

"Will this be a problem?"  The kid asks, holding the hand out towards Roy and curling each of the metal fingers closed and then open again.  With his other hand in a fist, he reaches down to knock on his left thigh, which echoes hollowly.  "Leg, too."

And that is not at all what Roy expected; he actually has to work to keep the surprise from his expression this time.  The boy walks and moves so naturally that Roy would never have suspected two of his limbs weren't natural if he hadn't been told. The mechanics and joints visible in the flexing right hand are more advanced than anything he's seen before, and the boy's obviously had them long enough to make controlling them second nature.

Still, he imagines that two missing limbs could potentially make things awkward when it comes to intimate relations, and for the first time he has some inkling of why the kid is approaching him rather than going out to a club to pick up.  He can only imagine the kinds of reactions the kid might receive from random hook-ups, especially in the gay scene, which tends towards the worship of bodily perfection.  

But Roy has no issues with damaged bodies, not after the kinds of physical trauma he's seen, and the damage inflicted upon his own.  If anything, he finds himself feeling an odd kind of brotherhood with this boy and his imperfect body, and he has a sudden desire to show the boy that desirability has nothing to do with being physically whole or perfect.  Maybe that's something he'll get a chance to do tonight.

"They're not a problem for me," Roy says, letting his expression speak his sincerity.

The kid's discomfort evaporates, his grin blooming fierce and radiant.  "Great!"  He declares.  "Let's do it!"

Roy lets himself smile this time - the boy's awkward enthusiasm is ridiculously endearing.

The kid winces as he twigs to the accidental double entendre, but he recovers quickly and holds out his hand.  "Oh, hey - I'm Ed."

Yet another surprise - most of his tricks remain deliberately anonymous, and those who give him a name use obvious aliases.  Roy never asks, and never offers his own in return.  But he has no doubt that Ed has just handed him his actual given name without a second thought, and something in Roy warms at this small display of openness and trust.  It also compels him to offer the same in return, despite his better judgement urging him to remain safely behind the shield of anonymity.   

"Roy."  The name sounds almost foreign to himself, it's so rare that he has reason to use it these days.

Roy reaches to shake the outstretched hand, realising at the last moment that he's reached out with his right while the kid's offered his left.  There's an awkward moment where he's forced to switch hands before grasping the one offered.  For a moment he just assumes the kid must be left-handed, and then it hits him - of course the kid prefers to shake with his natural hand rather than the prosthesis.  He wonders what other adaptations the kid's had to make to fit into a two-handed world.

The kid - Ed - doesn't seem ruffled by the moment of awkwardness, his grip firm and sure.  Roy doesn't think he's ever shaken the hand of a trick, either; apparently it's to be a day of firsts.  So far Ed isn't so much bending the rules of convention as shattering them, and Roy's usual ability to keep himself at a distance along with them.  He has to remind himself that no matter how friendly and sincere the kid is, he's still just a client.  It's one night's work, and then he'll probably never see the kid again.  

"Shall we?"  Roy asks, as Ed continues to simply stand and grin at him.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, hell yeah! Let's go."  Ed gestures for Roy to follow him, and Roy obediently falls into step beside him as they continue on down the street together.

Ed has no fucking idea what he's doing.

And Al is going to kill him.

He certainly hadn't set out to hire a hooker tonight.  He'd been fed up and frustrated as he'd left campus this evening, bored of the same rut his life has been stuck in lately, sick of the same paths he's been treading and retreading day by day.  The afternoon had dragged interminably and he'd grown more and more antsy and irritable, even snapping at Al when he'd called to let Ed know he wouldn't be home that night.  By the time he'd shoved his books into his satchel at the end of the last lecture, he knew he had to do something to try and break himself out of the petulant, pigheaded mood he'd sunk into.  He'd decided to start with something simple and take a different route home - he'd figured that maybe he'd stumble across a new take-away place, or a comic book shop he hadn't come across before.  

Instead, he'd found Roy.

The guy had caught his attention from a distance: a slender figure with his back temptingly arched, shoulders pressed against the bricks behind him, one knee bent with his foot flat on the wall.  He was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and Ed shivered sympathetically - the guy must be freezing his ass off.  All the same, the t-shirt did offer a nice view of his flat chest and belly, and the long, toned muscles of his arms.  

As he'd got closer Ed had filled in more details: straight black hair that fell to the tops of his ears, the shine of it a silver halo lit by the streetlight above, a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin.  His eyes were dark and alert, flickering to each of the evening travellers as they passed him by, assessing them intently.  He was the sort of good-looking that Ed found most attractive - sharp, lean and confident, with just a hint of danger about him.  The heat of want flared in the pit of his belly, startling him with its intensity - it was rare that Ed felt so attracted to anyone on first sight.  

It had taken Ed an embarrassingly long time to realise that the guy was a hooker.  He'd already passed several men loitering along the street who had watched him go by with the same contemplative gaze, but he hadn't really thought anything of it.  It wasn't until he found himself in front of the guy that all the pieces fell into place.  A few moments later he realised he was standing there staring like an imbecile, and was receiving an assessing look in return.  

"Can I help you?"  The guy had asked in a rich, smooth tenor.  He was well-spoken, his accent precise and refined - not what Ed had expected from a street worker, and for a few moments he was taken aback.

And then, without any actual input from his brain, he'd blurted: "How much?"

Ed was caught somewhere between horrified and aghast at his own impulsiveness.  Of all the stupid, impetuous things he'd ever done, this had to rank up there with the best of them.   What the hell was he thinking?  Had his dick somehow taken total control of his brain?  He'd never even had sex before, much less with a guy, and now he was suddenly deciding to proposition a gay hooker?

But the desire was still there, bright and hot and growing as he stood transfixed by the guy's dark, astute gaze.  Ed wanted him, wanted to feel the warmth of his mouth and solidness of his body against Ed's own.  So why the hell shouldn't he hire a hooker, if he wanted?  It wasn't a crime.  It wouldn't hurt anybody.  It's what the guy did for a living - there shouldn't be any shame in it, for either of them.  Ed had to lose his virginity some time, so he might as well do it in a way that let him call the shots.

And he had the money, sitting in the bank account he and Al jointly shared.  The legacy of their absent father, he and Al had sworn never to resort to it out of need - and they'd fucking stuck to it, supported themselves without any help from the asshole's pity cash.  But that meant the money was still just sitting there, and Ed felt a satisfying sense of pleasure at the thought of how displeased the bastard would be to know his son was contemplating using it to hire a gay hooker.

Meanwhile, said hooker was giving him the once over - and calling him a goddamn fucking kid.  Well, if Ed hadn't been resolved to go through with this before, he certainly was now.  If there was one thing he was good at, it was pushing back against assholes who thought he was too young to do something.  He was old enough to drink, drive, and hire a goddamn hooker if he wanted, and he'd damn well prove it if he had to, despite the indignity of being carded by a sex worker.

Once they'd sorted the details, Ed had a moment of sobering realisation - having sex with this guy was going to mean getting naked.  Which - yes, ok - should have been obvious from the outset, but forward thinking had never been Ed's strong suit.  He had no idea how the guy was going to react to his prostheses.  It wasn't like he was ashamed of his artificial limbs; they were hella useful, and he'd have a much fucking harder time managing without them.  But the looks and comments and questions got damn tiresome after a while, so he typically went gloved simply to avoid the hassle.  It wasn't something he'd could avoid if he was going to fuck this guy, though, and he had no idea how the guy was going to react to a double amputee.  

But Ed wasn't a coward, and he wasn't going to let fear get in the way of something he wanted.  He took a deep breath, lifted his head, and pulled off the glove - putting it all out there for the guy to see, even as he braced for the reaction.  

But none of the expressions he expected - distaste, awkwardness, or worst of all, pity - materialised.  The guy looked thoughtful for a moment, and then met his gaze evenly and said it wasn't a problem.  Ed wasn't always the best at reading people, but he knew a genuine reaction when he saw one.  The guy had seen his disability, acknowledged it, and accepted it - without any kind of judgement.

That's when Ed realised that he was kinda gone on the guy.  It was entirely ridiculous - it wasn't as if he really knew anything about him: they'd spent five minutes together and barely exchanged a handful of words.  But even the little he'd seen made Ed think that Roy was someone worth getting to know, and he'd found himself wanting to, just as much as he wanted to fuck the guy.

It wasn't a smart thing to want, not from a hooker he was paying to spend the night with and then would probably never see again. He tried to resign himself to the fact that Roy would be gone come morning - all they'd ever have, most likely, would be this one too-short night.

But then again, he thought, his irrepressible optimism twisting it back around - they had this night.  Even if they never had anything beyond tonight, he was still going to be able to talk to Roy, touch him, connect their bodies in the closest way possible and get to know him as well as anyone could in a span of only hours.  This night was his and he wasn't going to squander it, or waste time wishing it was something more than what it was.  

He was going to spend the night with Roy, and that was pretty fucking awesome, no matter what happened afterwards.  

"Shall we?"  Roy asks, breaking him from his reverie, and they set off down the street together.

So that's how Ed finds himself escorting a hooker back to his apartment one freezing Monday evening.  It might not be the most well-thought-out plan he's embarked on, but he doesn't think he's going to regret it. He darts a glance at Roy, and finds Roy looking back at him - Ed flushes with nervous embarrassment and Roy gives him a knowing smirk that gets him flushing for an entirely different reason.  Ed's not sure how even just the curve of Roy's lips can be so damn sexy.

Even if Al does kill him, Ed thinks this might be worth it.

[jwinwritingefaportfolio-blog]

A Late Realization: A Personal Narrative

jwinwritingefaportfolio

A Late Realization: Personal Narrative

Throughout my life I have been told over and over again to appreciate what I have: appreciate high school, my friends, my parents, and so much more. I never took it to heart. I was repeatedly told to appreciate the best and worst in life; I never realized that I needed to appreciate not only the good things, but everything I had. I couldn’t grasp that nothing lasts forever.

Growing up I thought I would always have my older brother by my side. Not for a single moment did I imagine the day he would leave our home, moving what seemed like halfway around the world, into San Diego State University. It was only on the day after he was gone that I realized how much I took him for granted.

Within what seemed like a heartbeat Noah was moved in and starting his new life. Only it was missing a piece: me.  We were both on our own.  In the blink of an eye things had seemed to gone astray. Which I suppose how life is: people come and people go. Therefore you should appreciate everything you have while it’s still within your grasp, because you’ll  never know until it’s gone. This was something I didn’t grasp until it was too late.

Being only three years apart Noah and I became the closest siblings out of the five of us kids. We were deemed as “the perfect siblings” because we never fought, we always got along, and we enjoyed a mass majority of the same things. Where he went- I went, if he did not like my new shirt-  I didn’t wear it, if he was going to watch The Goonies- I was going to watch The Goonies. He was a huge role model to me, someone I aspired to be like when I too, was on my own.

Our close relationship began when our family went through own  “rough patch”. Our parents were going through some tribulations when I was about ten years old and Noah was thirteen. Noah and I had no one but each other to turn to. Our older sisters were adults living on their own, worried about their own problems.  Noah and I were each other’s rock while our parents stood back, oblivious to the effect they were causing on us. When Noah and I looked towards each other for comfort and a friend, we never seemed to grow out of the bond that developed over that time period. It was as though the house had changed. Instead of having a brother, I had a best friend.  I always had someone to confide in, someone to be silly with, and someone who was just there to listen when I needed someone.

As I continued to age  I did not realize how fortunate I was to have an older sibling such  as Noah. I never fathomed  him leaving. Even though I was kidding myself when I thought we’d always be living together.  Even as the days and weeks led up to August 28th, 2016, move in day,  I was not fazed by the impact it would have. During the days of summer leading up to the dreaded day  I kept making plans with friends. I only cared for myself and whether or not I was out having fun. If I could go back and trade even a few of those days in for a few more with him I would. Days where we could revisit our old traditions, eating spicy Cheez Its and watching The Goonies, or drinking Dr. Pepper and watching the Sandlot. When Halloween comes around watching Hocus Pocus or any other cheesy Halloween movie will no longer be the same. When Christmas comes I’ll be wrapping gifts and hanging ornaments solo. In the summer my “pepper” partner for volleyball will no longer be him, but will now be a wall, bouncing the ball towards in every direction. My surf instructor, encourager, or fellow photographer will be thousands of miles away.  All of these little things I took for granted.

It took a few days, after moving him in, to realize all the changes that would take place with him gone. Not only was the house quieter without his obnoxious music or expressive spiels, but the house was emptier. Not only because there was not a body to give warmth to his room, but there was also an emptiness to not just me, but my Mom and Dad as well. We all missed that rambunctious boy and our hearts were heavy for a long time. A sort of stilled depression took over our family and engulfed its lackadaisical energy into our home. Even Chloe, our dog, seemed to be glum, missing one of her regular playmates.  Everyday we facetimed or called to get a mere check up on how his day was going. There were no longer dinner discussions of our days with in-depth descriptions and contagious laughter. When going to restaurants there is no longer a table for four but a table for three, an everyday occurrence that had come to its finale after sixteen years.

As the youngest child, Noah often picked on and teased me for being the youngest; now I would give anything to have those sneers and mockery, versus the silence that fills up the place I call home. As I walk down the stairs and peek my head into his bedroom to see what he is up to, I am awoken into the reality that all that sits there is a blanket that has began to collect dust, and a bathroom spotless of toothpaste and toilet paper rolls.

Having Noah gone has been a rough experience that I wish was only a dream, but as with all things, a lesson must be learned. His departure has caused me to learn from my mistake of being an unappreciative person. I have become conscious in everyday activities, such as walking down the hall to lunch, or climbing into my bed after a grueling volleyball match. These are things I would not realize I will someday miss, just as I miss Noah now.  

Having an everyday role model leave has been more than difficult and left me with nostalgic feelings, but I feel like it has taught me to develop my own character and sense of being. I now have to rely on myself to get through the days and classes and the tribulations to come.  A teacher does not teach the same student for life.  Now that he has taught me the basics of life and guided me through my adolescent years,  I can begin to discover life lessons on my own and find a sense for who I want to be. As the days trudge on and he moves closer and closer to his dreams and prominent future, I must learn to accept that things will never be the same and move forward onto my future and dreams.  I have learned and obtained so many memories, lessons, morals, habits, sayings, and expectations from Noah over my time with him. Now I will cherish those memories for my lifetime.