#it's all over carp tower

[icarus-suraki]

@thatswhatsushesaid quotes reminded me:

Jin GuangYao was standing right beside the base of the palace. Now that he had become sworn brothers with Nie MingJue and Lan XiChen, and been accepted into his clan, he had already painted between his brows the mark of vermilion and donned the white, golden-edged robes of Sparks Amidst Snow. Wearing a gauze cap, he was almost beyond recognition. As handsome as ever, his cleverness was the same, yet his air was calmer than it had ever been.

--EXR translation, ch. 49 pg 490

So the robes are, in the text, white with golden edges--okay.

So I love how the costume designer(s) for CQL were like, "... Nah, all gold everything. Especially for Jin Guangshan."

JGS is just over there like "I love goooooooooold."

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 Hold on to the reason that you stayed by tawaen

💙 Hold on to the reason that you stayed

by tawaen

M, Series, WIP, 62k, Wangxian

Summary: Once, Wen Qing vowed to preserve the lives of others, to rescue all living beings from their sufferings. It's a pity the Jin sect killed her. Now, no vows restrain her. (Two years after her death, the ghost of Wen Qing flees Golden Carp Tower with her brother. They accidentally kidnap Mo Xuanyu on the way out. Then, they set about collecting the scraps of Wei Wuxian's shattered soul.) Kay's comments: This series absolutely gutted me. Like, the end of the main story actually left in tears and it's been a while since I cried over fanfiction. Absolutely loved it, 10/10, would recommend, very cathartic. I loved Wen Qing's POV in the main story, how her anger and her thirst for revenge transformed the story and the cultivation society at large. Everything about this felt very satisfying and I loved how certain minor characters got second chances (via kidnapping) as well. Resentful ghost Wen Qing and martial god Wei Wuxian is such an awesome combination as well and Wangxian in this story were very adorable as well. Excerpt: She uses memories of her family as a bulwark against influence from the tormented yin energy. She needs this energy to become hers... If she fails here, A-Ning will be destroyed. Her family will never be given a proper burial. They will suffer eternally, trapped in the blood pool at the Burial Mounds and left out of the cycle of reincarnation forever. The people responsible will escape their karma. The resentment tries to crush her, wants to influence her and consumer her power, but Wen Qing has an anchor – Wen Ning's eyes widen slightly, and he reaches out to her. Pupils have returned to his eyes. “A-jie...” Her brother is finally conscious. Wen Qing will not fail him, not ever again. She pulls, letting her own will clash against the sentient portions of the power. They have suffered longer, but her resentment is fresh and fully remembered. She is not a fragment. She will not lose herself to them. The spirits go dormant – Wen Qing absorbed all the resentment fueling them. Her hand closes around Wen Ning's. “A-Ning.” She reaches out and brushes his hair out of his face with her other hand. She can actually feel the strands under her fingers. She no longer lingers as an incorporeal apparition, full as she is with resentful energy. “I missed you so much... But we need to leave quickly.” He leans into her touch briefly before nodding and pulling away. As she turns to grab a bag from one of the shelves so she can stow away the shattered pieces of the Yin Tiger Tally, Wen Ning gasps. Which is nearly impossible, since he doesn't breathe. When she looks back, she also releases a gasping sound. Hovering over the broken shards of the Tally, a nearly transparent image of Wei Wuxian flickers. His eyes glow red, as his ghostly image lifts an image of the fully completed Yin Tiger Tally, but then he disappears back to a flicker of ghost flame, fading.

pov wen qing, pov nie huaisang, canon divergence, thirteen years of wei wuxian's death, ghost wen qing, ghost general wen ning, mo xuanyu lives, rebirth, yiling wei sect, eventual lan wangji/wei wuxian, pov outsider, families of choice, cultivation sect politics, wen remnants deserve better, martial god wei wuxian, jiang family dynamics, golden core reveal, revenge

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

Hi!!! May I ask jance 22 kiss please?❤️

hi anon! tysm for your ask, the prompt is in a rush of adrenaline. i've also posted this fic on ao3 here!

Nace stepping up next to Jan in Novi Val is inevitable. They’ve messed around with each other a little throughout the gig, but they’re conscious that they’re being recorded and that they intend to release a concert film, so they’ve tried to tone it down. It’s ridiculous, but Jan has missed glancing across to catch Nace’s eye and reel him in with a look alone, has missed sidling up to him and making a witty comment just to make him laugh. Now, though, with the end of the concert so near, Jan feels unable to think of anything funny to say. He just leans heavily into Nace, who wraps an arm round him and pulls him in tight. They take in the ocean of their audience together, the glittering of their phone torches lighting up the hall in rainbow colours, the towering tiers of fans above their heads.

“We made it,” Nace says, barely audible over the roar of thousands of people singing their music. His voice sounds hoarse, as though he might cry, and Jan lets go of his guitar to slip his arm around Nace’s back in return. Sometimes he wishes he could stop playing for Novi Val, as Jure and Nace do, so he could stay pressed into Nace’s side like this for the whole song.

“We did,” Jan agrees, and as touching as the moment is, he’s still running high on the adrenaline of the past hour on stage, and he’s smiling so widely at Nace that he must look deranged. He wants to pull Nace towards him and kiss him senseless. He leans up so that he can speak directly into Nace’s ear. “We’re so lucky to have you.” 

Nace pulls him closer, his cheeks dimpling. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he answers. “Have I ever told you just how mesmerising you are when you play? And do you even know how gorgeous you look tonight?”

Jan can’t help but blush, though Nace has said these words to him before. “Do you know how proud I am of you,” he counters, “for what you’re wearing? Have you finally realised how hot you are?”

Nace just laughs, and Jan can’t tear his eyes away. “Endless compliments tonight, huh?” he jokes.

“For you, always.”

They’re interrupted by Jure on Nace’s other side, and he’s grinning at them too. He sings raucously at them both, throwing his hands in the air, before spinning off to face the other half of the audience, where Kris is standing. Nace remains at Jan’s side for a while longer, but Jan soon has to resume playing and he reluctantly steps out of Nace’s embrace so as to be able to concentrate again.

When Novi Val ends, they rush backstage to change into their Eurovision outfits before they play Carpe Diem. Kiki takes Jan’s guitar at the edge of the stage and Mark meets them at the bottom of the stairs with his camera in his hand. They only have a three minute clip prepared for the screen above the stage and Jan knows the crowd will get restless if they have to wait too long, but he doesn’t care. As soon as he gets to the green room, he launches himself towards Nace, who’s already taken off his shoes and half undone his trousers, and kisses him hard, despite the presence of their three bandmates and Mark. Nace staggers a few steps backwards but wraps his arms around Jan to bring him closer and kisses him fiercely back. Jan opens his mouth to Nace, desperately taking advantage of their few moments of peace. This kind of display in front of their bandmates is unusual, but Jan doesn’t care. When the gig finishes, they’ll be immediately surrounded by all the crew and the staff in the arena, Mark will be filming, and they’ll have to go straight into a press conference and be professional. Even at the afterparty, there will be enough strangers and press present that they’ll have to be careful around each other, though Jan knows he’ll be desperate to have Nace under his hands again. 

Someone tugs on the back of Jan’s shirt and says wryly, “can you stop trying to eat each other’s faces and actually get ready? You’ve only got two more minutes.”

Nace breaks the kiss reluctantly, but doesn’t let go of Jan, who’s still holding Nace’s face between his hands. Jan savours the weight of Nace’s arms around him for a few more moments, the sight of his flushed cheeks, the heaviness of his breathing, and then he tears himself away and begins to get changed.

“You’ve ruined a good shot we could have put in the concert film,” Mark chides Jan as he leans down to take off his shoes. 

“Worth it,” Jan mutters under his breath, and Mark playfully swats at his arm in retaliation.

When their allotted time is up, Mark impatiently ushers them out of the green room though Bojan’s shirt is half unbuttoned and Nace is still shrugging on his jacket. Jan just has time to pull Nace in for one more bruising kiss before they head back on stage for the encore.

[thirteenis-myluckynumber]

Proposal - Nie Huaisang

Pairing: Nie Huaisang x f!reader

Word Count: 1669 words

Warnings/tags: none i think, the events leading up to the wedding, fluff

Notes: (C/N)-your clan's name, (Y/N)-your name

A/N: I planned this to be a one-shot but I got carried away, so the actual action *wink wink* will happen in the next chapter.

I did some completely unnecessary research for this (my adhd ass basically got distracted) but nothing specific. My cultural knowledge is from the show so I'm sorry for any possible mistakes regarding culture. This is my first time writing The Untamed. Also English is not my first language.

Part 2

You met Nie Huaisang at one of the cultivation meetings Jin Guangyao held in Carp Tower. You were a member of one of the smaller clans, so you didn't attend such gatherings in general. That one time your older brother insisted for you to come, as there were some issues to be discussed which might need your expertise as a healer.

During the many battles of the Sunshot Campaign, you actively participated in the healing of wounded soldiers, so many members from the bigger clans also knew you. So it was no wonder they were all pleasantly surprised to see you there at the meeting. After the greetings and toasts you were free to mingle, and almost everyone greeted you with a pleasant smile and grateful eyes. You also greeted them politely, asking about their family and health.

After a while you noticed that Zewu-jun were looking at you, wanting to invite you over to where he was standing with his brother Lan Wangji, Jin Guangyao and another finely dressed young man. As you walked over Lianfang-zun excused himself to greet the other guests. You turned to the remaining three men with a smile, and they bowed to you in return.

"(C/N)(Y/N). It's so nice to see you. What brings you here?" Lan Xichen asked with a small smile on his lips.

"Apparently, Lianfang-zun requires my help with something. And I took the chance to reunite with old acquaintances."

Lan Wangji stared at you in his usual way, not showing any of his emotions. You also wanted to ask what brought him here, but with a curt nod to you and his brother he also excused himself. Finally, you turned to the man now standing next to Lan Xichen. You had an attention to detail, so only a quick glance was enough for you to notice his handsome face and elegant clothing however, you didn't remember meeting him before.

"It's nice to meet you, Master...," you trailed off somewhat nervously as you didn't know how to address him.

He appeared lost in thought for a moment as he seemed to ever so slightly jump at your words. Still, he quickly schooled his expression into a calm and dignified look, but you could still see his nervousness underneath.

"I am Nie Huaisang. Pleased to meet you Lady (C/N)," he said as he bowed to you again, holding his fan in his hands.

As you realized your previous mistake, you were quick to return his bow.

"Ahh, please excuse my rudeness Clan Leader Nie."

He didn't seem offended at all as he glanced at you with a small smile, which appeared to be sad to you. You knew the story of his ascension to clan leader, after all his brother's death was still a widely discussed topic between cultivators. You also heard the various mean stories about Nie Huaisang himself, in which cultivators often referred to him as the Head Shaker or Good-For-Nothing. Stealing another glance at the man, he didn't seem quite as incompetent to you as these stories described him. He might not carry a sword and appear generally nervous, but you could also see the intelligence in his eyes. Right when you wanted to ask him about the situation in Qinghe, your brother called out to you to return to your tables. You exchanged bows with the two men again and returned to where your clan was sitting. However, you didn't seem to think about anything else that day but the handsome and mysterious Clan Leader Nie.

In the upcoming weeks you had the chance to meet with Nie Huaisang many more times, at political meetings and at night hunts too. You were not one to attend often, but as time went by you became more and more interested in the leader of the Nie Clan. As far as men go, he was the first one with whom you could always stir up meaningful conversations about various topics, not just politics or war. As someone who were always interested in music and arts, you found it exceptionally refreshing to listen to him talk about his passions, especially painting and his favourite fans. Looking at him, it always made you happy to see him quite relaxed during your conversations. After a while he even became bolder and started to show you his beautiful smile and laugh and you had to realize, that you, at the same time, started to fall in love with him.

Your brother always had a watchful eye on you two and he always let you know when he thought you spent enough time in the company of the clan leader. You understood his reasoning of course, so you always rejoined your family after a short conversation with Nie Huaisang.

After a few such meetings though, you started receiving gifts from him. At first you didn't know from whom they came from, but one time a messenger, who delivered some letters to your brother, handed you a neatly packaged hand-painted folding fan. It was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, and you instantly knew who it was from. As you carefully traced the intricately painted lines on the fan with your fingertips your heart was beating so hard you felt it might jump out of your chest at any moment.

The next week your brother informed you that Clan Leader Nie requested a lunch with him and that you should also attend. Despite his reputation, everyone in your home made sure the preparation for the lunch were going smoothly. Everyone seemed excited to host such a high-ranking cultivator in your home. To say that you were nervous when the day finally arrived was an understatement. Actually, you thought you were never this nervous before.

During the lunch you were actually becoming calmer until your brother finally steered the conversation toward the actual meaning of the whole thing.

"Clan Leader Nie, may I ask the reason of your visit?" Your brother inquired after you exhausted all the general conversation topics.

Nie Huaisang seemed rather nervous too during the whole lunch, but looking at him now you were worried he might actually faint. Good thing you are a healer, you thought. For a few moments he sat there completely silent and almost motionless. Only his hands fiddling with his closed fan revealed his emotions. He looked up at your brother and opened his fan to hide behind it. The longer he spoke the quicker his hand moved the elegant accessory, and it seemed his face got redder by the minute.

"Clan Leader (C/N), as you probably noticed, we became quite well-acquainted with your sister. I would like to believe we became rather close even in the past few weeks. And you didn't seem opposed by my advances either. What I mean by all this is that...," he trailed off, even his ears were bright red by now. He appeared to be steeling himself for his next words. Finally he reluctantly lowered his fan and looked at you with frightened but hopeful eyes. God, you just wanted to hug him at that moment. But you couldn't, so you mustered your most encouraging smile and nodded at him. You were certain your cheeks were also red at that point. Nie Huaisang looked straight into your brother's eyes and said:

"I would like to ask for your permission to take your sister as my wife."

When he finally said it, it seemed like a huge stone was lifted off of his shoulders. His posture became more relaxed, but the fan opened again, only at his chest though, not covering his face. Now it was your turn to nervously glance at your brother. His face didn't show anger or disgust, only deep contemplation, which was a good sign, you thought.

"Clan Leader Nie, I am honored you think so highly of my sister. I have to say however, your bad reputation is not something I can ignore..."

"Gege!" You exclaimed, looking at your brother shocked and scared. Thinking back, you never thought your brother believed all those mean rumors about Nie Huaisang because he was just as good at reading people as you were.

"Meimei, let me finish," your brother said not even looking at you, a slight warning in his voice.

"Clan Leader Nie, as you said, I never opposed your relations with my sister. You seem to me an honorable man, and you never behaved inappropriately around her. But you have to understand, my sister's future depends on me. That's why I brought up your reputation. They say you are incompetent, but that's not what I see. I think you are very good at this whole political game. All I ask of you is to take care of my sister and don't let her reputation be ruined."

As he finished speaking you instantly turned to Nie Huaisang, who seemed to freeze, only his eyes turned impossibly big. His mind probably stuck to the same thought as yours, because that meant your brother actually agreed, right?

With his next sentence, he confirmed your suspicions: "I accept your proposal. If my sister agrees, she is yours."

You could only nod your head furiously as Nie Huaisang stood up and bowed deeply to your brother in thanks.

"Clan Leader (C/N), I assure you, your sister's happiness will always be my top priority. I will take care of her until my last day," Nie Huaisang said, his voice shaky.

As he straightened up, you could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears and you couldn't hold yourself back anymore. You basically jumped up, walked around the table and grabbed his shaking hands.

"I would love to be yours, Nie Huaisang," you said squeezing his hands.

He looked at you with that self-assured half smile you loved so much, and which he showed so rarely these days, but it always signaled some kind of mischief.

You didn't notice your brother looking at you two with a fond look on his face.

To be continued

[mdzs-fanon-exposed]

MDZS Fanon VS Canon: 7/?

Mo Xuanyu and Xue Yang were Jin disciples at the same time

Rating: FANON – SUPPORTED

There's a not insignificant amount of fanworks that depict Xue Yang and Mo Xuanyu interacting during their time as guest disciples of the Lanling Jin sect. While we do not have any concrete evidence that the two characters ever met, it is (mostly) possible to discern whether they were guest disciples at the same time.

The timeline of Mo Dao Zu Shi is often hard to follow because specific years and dates are rarely given in the books, but using context clues, I can piece together a rough estimate of when both characters were present at Golden Carp Tower and use that to identify any points they may have overlapped.

Xue Yang:

Xue Yang's time as a guest disciple is easier to define, so I'll start with him. The earliest time we see him, chronologically, is during the flower-viewing banquet that Lanling Jin held directly following the end of the Sunshot Campaign:

Xue Yang was extremely young at this point in time. Although his face still had a boyish cast to it, he was already very tall. He also wore a Sparks Amidst Snow robe, the very picture of carefree youth as he stood beside Jin Guangyao, like a spring breeze caressing the willow. (Seven Seas Ch. 10, Part 2)

He is already a disciple of the Jin sect, although he hasn't been one for long, according to Nie Mingjue's reaction:

Nie Mingjue frowned. “Xue Yang from Kui Prefecture?” Jin Guangyao nodded. Xue Yang was already infamous at a young age. Wei Wuxian could clearly sense Nie Mingjue’s frown deepening. (Seven Seas Ch. 10, Part 2)

Note that at this point, both Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan are alive (and attending the flower-viewing banquet as well). We can assume that this happens approximately 1-2 years before Wei Wuxian's death, due to factors such as time skips and a reference to the Sunshot Campaign from when Xiao Xingchen leaves the mountain, which we know is about a year after the Siege:

At the time, it had only been a few years since the end of the Sunshot Campaign, and the Siege of the Yiling Burial Mounds had just concluded. (Seven Seas Ch. 7)

and

Twelve years ago happened to be the year right after the Siege of the Yiling Burial Mounds, so they had just missed each other. (Seven Seas Ch. 7)

We can also approximate when Xue Yang's time as a disciple ended. He had to have been a guest disciple of the Lanling Jin until between one and two years after Wei Wuxian's death. We know it was at least one year afterwards, because he meets Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan while still associated with the Sect:

Xiao Xingchen smiled, seemingly well aware that it was in Jin Guangyao’s nature to speak in an ingratiating way. “Lianfang-zun speaks too highly of me.” His gaze then turned to Xue Yang. “He may be young, but since he ranks among the guest cultivators, he must still exercise self-discipline and restraint. The Jin Clan of Lanling is distinguished, after all, and should strive to set an example in many aspects.” (Seven Seas Extra 3)

And it must have been up to two years or less because Xue Yang was both imprisoned and exonerated for the crime of the Chang Clan massacre (and therefore no longer a disciple) while Jin Guangshan was still alive:

“I’m not shielding him,” Jin Guangyao defended himself. “The incident with the Chang Clan of Yueyang shocked me greatly as well. How could I have anticipated Xue Yang would slaughter a family of over fifty people? But my father insists on keeping him…” (Seven Seas Ch. 10)

and

Jin Guangshan began thinking of ways to pull Xue Yang out of jail ... until finally, the Jin Clan of Lanling successfully persuaded Chang Ping to change his story. He withdrew all the grievances he had stated before and announced publicly that the clan extermination case had nothing to do with Xue Yang. (Seven Seas Ch. 7)

And we know Jin Guangshan died eleven years before Wei Wuxian was resurrected, from Sisi's story.

“I’ll go first, then!” She casually curtsied to the crowd. “What I’m about to tell you is an incident that happened roughly eleven years ago.” ... And the half-dead man on the bed must have been Jin Guangshan! (Seven Seas Ch. 19)

Therefore, Xue Yang's time as a guest disciple lasted anywhere from two to four years in total, beginning at the end of the Sunshot Campaign and ending approximately a year (give or take) before Jin Guangshan dies.

Mo Xuanyu:

Mo Xuanyu's timeline is harder to define, because we never actually see him while he's a disciple, and have to rely on rumors and circumstantial evidence. The only reliable information we have, date-wise, is that he was fourteen when he was called to Golden Carp Tower by his father:

And sure enough, when Mo Xuanyu turned fourteen, that clan leader sent over a grand party to officially take him back. (Seven Seas Ch. 2)

Although knowing he's fourteen isn't particularly helpful, we do know that Jin Guangshan was still alive at the time. As for the exact time frame in which Mo Xuanyu could have been accepted as a disciple, Jin Guangyao says this:

“Did you think that I would rise in position with Jin Zixuan’s death? Jin Guangshan would rather bring back another illegitimate son than have me succeed him!” (Seven Seas Ch. 10)

This implies that Mo Xuanyu was accepted into Lanling Jin after Jin Zixuan's death so that Jin Guangyao would be further down the line of succession. This sentence is said when Nie Mingjue confronts Jin Guangyao about sheltering Xue Yang from the consequences of the Chang Clan massacre. Therefore, Mo Xuanyu could have (theoretically) entered the Jin sect at any point between Jin Zixuan's death and Nie Mingjue's confrontation, the latter of which took place after Xue Yang's imprisonment.

However, I believe it is more likely that Mo Xuanyu was brought in during the aftermath of Jin Zixuan's death, for the sheer reason that it would shunt Jin Guangyao out of the line of succession quicker.

We do know that Mo Xuanyu was present at Golden Carp Tower after Wei Wuxian's death, because Jin Guangyao gave him access to Wei Wuxian's manuscripts on possession:

He had written plenty of these manuscripts back then, all penned on a whim and tossed aside just as easily, scattered all around the cave where he slept in the Yiling Burial Mounds. ... He’d wondered where Mo Xuanyu had learned such forbidden magic. Now he knew. Never in a million years would Jin Guangyao have allowed unimportant people to glimpse the remains of a manuscript on forbidden magic. (Seven Seas Ch. 10)

And although we don't know exactly when Mo Xuanyu was kicked out of Golden Carp Tower, we can infer that it happened before Jin Guangshan's murder, simply because it would make the transfer of power to Jin Guangyao easier without that obstacle in the way. During the events in the Sword Hall of Lotus Pier, after Sisi and Bicao's testimonies, one unnamed cultivator says this:

"He spent the last few years before Jin Guangshan’s death busily clearing the land of his father’s illegitimate sons, for fear that someone would suddenly pop out of nowhere and challenge him for the position. Mo Xuanyu was probably one of the lucky ones. Had he not gone crazy and been booted back home, he would likely have ended up disappearing like the others." (Seven Seas Ch. 19)

This implies that Mo Xuanyu's expulsion from the sect happened at some point before Jin Guangshan's murder, as he would be a potential threat to Jin Guangyao's legitimacy (and have gotten killed) otherwise. However, this cannot exactly be taken as reliable evidence. As Wei Wuxian says about this exchange,

If they’re just rumors, why so quick to believe them? If they’re secrets, how would you even know of them? This was not the first time these rumors had spread. While Jin Guangyao was in power, they had been suppressed so well that no one took them seriously. But tonight, the rumors all seemed to have become hard facts with irrefutable evidence. They became a solid foundation for Jin Guangyao’s multitude of crimes, proving just how unscrupulous he was. (Seven Seas Ch. 19)

So while it's possible that the timeline here is correct, we know that (as established earlier in the books – see Chapter 1) rumors in the world of Mo Dao Zu Shi are unreliable at best and often contradictory. For the purposes of this post, though, I am choosing to assume that this is at least partially true.

So taking the assumptions I've made into account, we know that Mo Xuanyu's time as a Jin disciple could have lasted up to approximately three years, anywhere between directly following Jin Zixuan's death to just before Jin Guangshan's death.

The timeline:

Now that I have a rough estimate of when both characters were present at Golden Carp Tower, I can try to find places where they overlap. Unfortunately, even with all this sleuthing, I cannot say for sure if they were present at the same time. The chance that they just barely missed each other, though, is unlikely.

Given the most generous interpretation of their respective timelines, Xue Yang and Mo Xuanyu could have been Jin disciples together for almost three years at maximum. This assumes:

Mo Xuanyu was accepted into the Jin sect almost immediately following Jin Zixuan's death.

Both Xue Yang and Mo Xuanyu's expulsions happened soon after one another, within the same year as Jin Guangshan's death.

This means Mo Xuanyu would have been a disciple since before Wei Wuxian died, and that Xue Yang's imprisonment and exoneration happened on a very tight timeline right before Jin Guangshan's death. This is the interpretation that gives both characters as much time to interact as possible.

Given the least generous interpretation, however, Xue Yang and Mo Xuanyu just missed each other. This assumes:

The massacre of the Chang Clan happened very soon after Xiao Xingchen descended from the mountain.

Mo Xuanyu's acceptance into the sect happened just before Nie Mingjue confronted Jin Guangyao.

This means that Mo Xuanyu's call to join the sect would have happened in between Xiao Xingchen apprehending Xue Yang and Nie Mingjue confronting Jin Guangyao about it, which is presumably a very short amount of time. This is also the least likely interpretation, as it wouldn't make much sense for Mo Xuanyu to have been accepted so late and during such a controversial period for the sect.

The most likely interpretation is somewhere in the middle: that Mo Xuanyu and Xue Yang were, in fact, Lanling Jin disciples at the same time, but that they did not have much overlap. I believe it is probable that Mo Xuanyu would have been accepted into the sect within a year or so of Jin Zixuan's death, and that the Chang Clan massacre happened at least half a year after Xiao Xingchen descended, meaning the two would have had around a year of overlap between them.

In conclusion, I can say with relative confidence that Xue Yang and Mo Xuanyu would have been Jin disciples at the same time. However, I cannot confirm this as canon, as there is not enough evidence available in the books. Therefore, this must be rated as SUPPORTED FANON: the text does not directly state this is true, but it is a distinct and likely possibility.

[fierrochase-falafel]

MDZS, CQL and the passage of time

MDZS novel and CQL spoilers ahead!

There's this thing where despite The Untamed / CQL having Wei Wuxian be dead for 16 years instead of 13, everything is meant to feel so much rawer and closer in time than the novel I feel. For a start, naturally having 30 episodes straight of flashback sequencing before depicting an immediate reconcilation between Wangxian really imprints those flashbacks much closer in your mind than Wei Wuxian's actual ressurrection, which happened in episode 1.

Furthermore, there are also these other flashbacks when Wei Wuxian sees something reminiscent of his past, different instrumentals played initially in the flashbacks coming back again to remind you of the themes those instrumentals represent. One of the most distinct examples I remember is in episode 2, when CQL Wei Wuxian sees a vision of Wen Qing introducing Dafan Mountain as the place where her branch of the Wen clan lives in CQL and then remembers the dancing fairy statue. This never happened in the novel- partially because, in CQL, Wei Wuxian was introduced to characters and locations / concepts WAY before he found out about them in the novel (eg.- YiCheng characters, Meng Yao, Dafan Mountain, demonic cultivation in the form of the Yin Iron). By entrenching these places and characters so far back into Wei Wuxian's past- all the way back to his Gusu days, in fact- they feel much more central in the overall plot and connected to the modern storylines involving rediscovering them. Wei Wuxian isn't being thrown into a new world at all, it's the same world with all the loose ends to be tied up. This does force him to remember the past more to deal with the present, and also links the show together in a way that would engage people who have come to watch a put-together story (this sort of strong cohesion I think is less required in novels than in a series because of the way the story needs to flow from 1 episode to the next to be coherent). In the novel, Wei Wuxian's own past storyline has a much slimmer connection to the current events- the obvious kicker being Jin Guangyao in CQL was the main reason Wei Wuxian was villainised and it all comes together in the end, but novel Jin Guangyao just accelerated the process of Wei Wuxian becoming the scapegoat and made this very clear. He didn't know Wei Wuxian would kill Jin Zixuan, he said; even though Jin Guangyao's not the most trustworthy character, how on earth could he have predicted that Wei Wuxian would lose control if he wasn't there to influence him like in CQL?

However, there are even more flashback scenes like the one in episode 35, where Wei Wuxian flashes back to Nie Huiasang being excited about fans and then compliments modern-day Nie Huiasang's fan. Scenes like these cannot be explained by the changed plot because Nie Huiasang and Wei Wuxian being friends at 15 in the Cloud Recesses is canon in all versions of MDZS. Personally, seeing this scene, the strongest effect I can garner from it is nostalgia for simpler times, for people he used to be close with. Memories are flooding CQL Wei Wuxian the minute he's alive again. Contrast this exact scene with MDZS, where Wei Wuxian zones out for a good while after Nie Huiasang leaves- no words of companionship or nostalgia or anything.

Novel Wei Wuxian rarely remembers any of his past life in detail unless he fully means to, actively giving himself reminiscing time, or in a life-or-death situation. The 3 flashback sequences in the novel begin:

when Wei Wuxian decides very specifically to muse over his past with Lan Wangji,

when Wei Wuxian gets stabbed and has to be taken away from Golden Carp Tower,

when everyone turns on him in the Burial Mounds with the same words and having the same intent they did at Nightless City (to harm him, to besiege him).

I think novel Wei Wuxian has spent 13 years in the afterlife getting used to wallowing over his memories, and then consequently repressing and ignoring memories from his past life because they were all associated with pain and bitterness and so much guilt (traumatic, even, but I can't say much from a perspective of trauma because I neither have trauma nor am qualified to know enough about it). Nobody cared for him anymore in his eyes, and he DID lose control, fully feeling himself lose control and accidentally cause the deaths of people he genuinely cared about. The worst-case scenario that he had to contend with actually happening and being, to some degree, his fault. With 13 years to exist as a ghost, I think he had so much time in which he would've had to contend with his choices and death that he fully removed himself from his old life as much as possible, leading to his modern-day gap in memories. You feel the effect of his years dealing with his emotions about this whole mess.

In contrast, CQL Wei Wuxian feels like he is experiencing everything raw when he comes back into the world, like he hasn't been practicing repression to the point of memory loss. Maybe he wasn't conscious during his years as dead? He's introduced with Mo Xuanyu calling to him in his brain during the sacrificial ritual, I think, and is getting told he IS Mo Xuanyu and he is...a tad confused. And then disappointed, but I mean given what Yiling Laozu Wei Wuxian had come to expect after the fiascos that ended his life, he probably wouldn't be too surprised or confused anyways. My theory is that CQL Wei Wuxian likely was unconscious when he was dead whereas MDZS Wei Wuxian was not.

This doesn't seem...important. However it does change who Wei Wuxian is and why he does the things that he does upon reincarnation. Novel Wei Wuxian taking every opportunity to drape himself over Lan Wangji with the purpose of pushing him away makes a lot of sense for a guy who's convinced the worst thing he could do to someone is get too close to/with them; he goes ahead with making a ruckus and trying to make Lan Wangji uncomfortable- without shame (because that's gotta erode away after being dead and reviled for 13 years) and without considering the possibility that Lan Wangji might want to help. Why would he consider that? He doesn't see himself worthy of help or believe anyone would help him, and he's internalised that for years on years.

CQL Wei Wuxian though, he faints on Dafan Mountain due to the weight of his memories- he's confronted with so much of the past so fast and his response is to faint. Barely any ruckus at all. When Lan Wangji finds out who he is, they have a calm conversation about it, where novel Wei Wuxian is like "oh frick he called me Wei Ying" and pretends nothing happened. CQL Wei Wuxian is a lot more open, and I think part of that is because he woke up from his death and was given the support he needed in his previous life within a couple of days. He didn't feel the years go by, have to deal with the consequences of the things he did alone (and in CQL 60% of them weren't even his own actions), so he didn't build himself the same kind of emotional fortress novel Wei Wuxian did.

CQL Wei Wuxian is jaded, true, but not the kind of jaded that comes with floating around in the afterlife for over a decade. It's easier for him to get back into this world and solve a little murder mystery together with Lan Wangji- they fall into step with each other perfectly- while novel Wei Wuxian is still getting his footing. Thus, CQL Wangxian's relationship doesn't evolve the way book Wangxian's do in Wei Wuxian's new life, and Wei Wuxian's reason to be back in this new life is far more about getting back that which he lost (Lan Wangji, a claim to justice) as opposed to gaining something else, something new and all the more important for it (a newfound relationship with Lan Wangji). Novel Wei Wuxian being so out of sync with the new world around him, in both memories and relationships, means that he has so much more room to grow in his present life as he can stop being haunted by the past. I'm not saying this is better than CQL, that's really up to what you like in your media, but this puts Wei Wuxian in a very different position in MDZS than in CQL, and also fundamentally changes their purposes and outlook on their new lives. Whether the focus of his character development takes place in the past or in the present. Whether it's about tying up the loose ends of the past, or chucking out the tapestry of the past to weave a new future.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

just for the record or whatever: I don't think the text conclusively tells us whether or not jin guangyao had a hand in killing jin rusong, and so I'm not actually that interested in answering the question definitively either way.

what the text does suggest is that jin rusong's death at the hands of jgy's political opponent was a public spectacle. here's the section of the text from the EXR translation that I believe supports this interpretation:

Lan WangJi, “Jin GuangYao once had a son. His life was taken at a young age.”

Wei WuXian wondered, “He was the young master of Carp Tower, though. How could his life have been taken away?”

Lan WangJi, “The lookout towers.” Wei WuXian, “And why was that?”

Back then, in order to build the lookout towers, Jin GuangYao not only faced quite a number of opposers, but also displeased a handful of sects. One of the opposing sect’s leaders lost the arguments, and went into a murderous rage, killing Jin GuangYao and Qin Su’s only son. The boy had always been a good child and he couple had always loved him dearly. Under resentment, Jin GuangYao tore down the entire sect in revenge. Qin Su, however, was overcome with grief. She hadn’t been able to bear another child ever since.

- pg 455 of the EXR translation (can't remember the chapter number or name whoops)

imo if someone's actions are described as 'a murderous rage,' this suggests that their reaction to what provoked them was immediate and violent, rather than something that was the result of premeditation. it also suggests that there were witnesses present who saw this happen (which I have seen handled painfully well in fic, I will come back to this with a link once I'm finished writing). also, I think the source of this information in the novel is fascinating because it comes from lan wangji, a character who is particularly disinclined towards gossiping, rumourmongering, or, uh. talking much at all tbh.

I'm raising this point because I think this section of the text provides the most straight forward and also credible description of the circumstances of jin rusong's death: that jin rusong's murderer lost a political argument (and presumably a lot of money and authority over his own sect's resources), flew into a rage, and killed him as a result of that provocation. just about everything else relating to jin rusong's death--whether jin rusong being present was a deliberate act on jin guangyao's part to put him in danger, or negligence, or just a horrific accident that jin guangyao claims responsibility for because he feels responsible--is just speculation by the jianghu peanut gallery.

[ibijau]

Sins of the Fathers pt2 / On AO3

Wen Yuan's first encounter with his new in-law didn't go quite as bad as Jin Ling feared.

Still, it was far from ideal.

First of all, Wen Yuan overslept. Then, he took an eternity putting on the new clothes of golden silk he'd been gifted, only to put all of them wrong. Jin Ling, kindly, stepped closer, reaching out to at least fix Wen Yuan's collar. His hand was promptly slapped away, and his husband glared at him as angrily as if Jin Ling had tried to assault him. 

“Fine, look like a mess for all I care,” Jin Ling snapped. “But I tried to help, remember that!”

Wen Yuan frowned, his too pale cheeks colouring slightly, as if he were the one who had any reason to be embarrassed, when it was Jin Ling who would be really humiliated to be seen with his new husband. 

And indeed, when they met with Jin Ling's parents and grandparents for breakfast, everybody looked shocked to discover Wen Yuan's face. None of them had met him beforehand. The whole engagement had been set up through letters, followed by one single encounter between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao acting on strict instructions from his father. Wen Yuan's appearance had never been discussed, Jin Ling suspected, because they'd all assumed any young cultivator would look healthy and decently handsome. 

Wei Wuxian had to be laughing, all the way back in Yiling. 

Still, it was a little rude, the way everyone stared at Wen Yuan without a single movement to greet him. Jin Ling couldn’t be the one to breach the silence, or else he’d have been rude, but it became tempting the longer everyone refused to say anything. Thankfully Jiang Yanli soon recovered from her shock, and smiled warmly at her new son-in-law. 

“Wen Yuan, we are so pleased to meet you,” she said, gesturing for Jin Ling and him to sit down.

Jin Ling promptly obeyed, taking his usual place between his father and the twins, but Wen Yuan did not move, standing awkwardly next to the table, as if he couldn't see an extra spot had been left empty between Jin Zixuan and Jin Ruyi.

“I am honoured to be here,” Wen Yuan mumbled with a deep bow toward Jin Guangshan first, and then Jin Zixuan. His voice was rough, his enunciation poor, as if he weren't used to speaking. “Thank you for letting me join your family, I will try to be worthy.” 

Both of Jin Ling's grandparents frowned and exchanged a concerned look, before remembering they hated each other too much to bond over disdain for a new in-law. 

“I'm sure you will be fine,” Jin Guangshan told Wen Yuan. “Don't hesitate to tell Rulan if anything troubles you. It is a husband's job to make his wife happy and comfortable.” 

The entire family looked away from him, shocked that he'd dare to say such a thing, worried he might take offence at their shock. Only his wife dared to glare at him, but she was the only one who needn't fear him. 

“Speaking of which,” Jin Guangshan went on, “while you are more than welcome to join your husband and my disciples in training, we don't expect you to entirely drop your previous cultivation method either. Just tell us what accommodations you need, and it will be arranged.”

“Thank you,” Wen Yuan mumbled, finally going to sit with his husband. 

Jin Guangshan stared at him, clearly hoping for more of an answer so he could start gleaning information about the Yiling sect's methods, but Wen Yuan remained silent.

In fact, nobody managed to get more than a word or two out of him after that, much to the annoyance of Jin Ling's grandparents.

Jiang Yanli casually mentioned the great distance from Yiling to Carp Tower, and what a long and exhausting experience a wedding day was. With such an excuse provided for him, it was harder for Jin Guangshan to complain too much about young people and their bad manners. But even her skill couldn't have saved Wen Yuan from reproaches if anyone besides Jin Ling had noticed his odd eating pattern. Like the previous night, Wen Yuan never ate anything unless he saw someone else eat it first, and even then he ate very little, very slowly. When that pattern repeated at lunch and dinner, Jin Ling became convinced his new husband really feared poison, and he wondered if that was a reflection of his own sect's reputation, or of life in the Burial Mounds. 

The rest of the day was somewhat uneventful, although not quiet by any means. Wen Yuan had to be introduced to a number of elders and relatives, as well as the higher ranking disciples of the sect, and the servants who would work for Jin Ling and him. The entire time, Wen Yuan hardly said a word, which Jin Ling thought was for the best. His husband wouldn't embarrass him as much if he didn't speak.

On the next day, their new normal life was set to commence. Jin Ling was dreading going back to his usual training schedule, knowing he’d have to face his cousin Jin Chan and his opinions, so he allowed himself to be late for the first classes. It wasn’t his fault, he told himself. Wen Yuan still wasn’t awake at the hour training was meant to start, and Jin Ling couldn’t possibly leave without letting his poor husband know where he was going. Not that Wen Yuan particularly cared when he did wake up at last and Jin Ling told him, but it was as good an excuse as any.

“You can come along if you want,” Jin Ling offered. “To watch, or to participate. I think it’s hand to hand combat this morning. Otherwise, you’re free to do as you like all day as long as you don’t get in trouble.”

Wen Yuan frowned, and slowly shook his head. Wise of him, really. Being small, skinny, and associated with Jin Ling in any way was too much of an invitation to be bullied by Jin Chan. And then Jin Ling would be the one getting in trouble for not protecting his husband, while Jin Chan would probably be praised by his asshole dad. Everyone knew Jin Zixun held a deep grudge against Wei Wuxian, and that he’d threatened to leave the sect over that marriage. He'd only agreed to stay because Jin Guangshan himself had asked him to, as a personal favour from a nephew to his uncle. Or at leat, that was the official version. Everyone knew Jin Zixun had no friends outside the sect, and was involved in some shady business with his uncle.

Well Jin Ling thought he should have left, and taken his idiot son along with him.

Just as Jin Ling feared, Jin Chan started mocking him from the moment he joined the other junior disciples. Accusations of enjoying his new bride's company too much to be on time were thrown at him, followed by jokes about the ugliness of said bride, something which Jin Guangshan had apparently complained about to half the sect already.

Jin Ling did his best to ignore his cousin, knowing that Jin Chan would pose himself as the true victim if he dared to punch him in the face. Already, Jin Ling had a somewhat bad reputation among teachers, who thought he was arrogant (he preferred skilled), capricious (determined), hot-headed (brave!) and unwilling to admit his faults (because he had none). He couldn’t add violent to that list, no matter how much his fists itched.

Also, it would upset his parents to learn he’d been fighting again, even though he was a married man now, practically an adult, someone his younger siblings should be able to look up to.

So Jin Ling withstood every horror his cousin shout-whispered at the other boys while the teacher pretended not to notice, and then escaped as fast as he could once the lesson was over. 

He was supposed to eat with the other junior at lunches, because his father believed it was good for him to be around boys his age. But really, Jin Ling usually went directly to the kitchen to get food, and then either ate there or took it somewhere hidden so his father wouldn’t discover him being antisocial. Sometimes it was his room, but currently that wasn't an option because his husband might still be there. Jin Ling wasn’t in the mood to deal with yet another person who didn’t like him. 

Instead he went to hang out in Jin Guangyao’s office. His little uncle welcomed him warmly, and let him play with his dog too. It should have been Jin Ling’s dog anyway, but his grandfather had refused it on his behalf for stupid reasons so his uncle had been forced to keep it. Jin Guangyao was so overworked he rarely had time for poor Fairy, so Jin Ling was really the one training it, and even secretly took it on Night Hunts if he could do it without his grandfather’s knowledge. 

Fairy might as well have been Jin Ling’s dog, really.

In exchange for letting him hide at lunch, Jin Guangyao made Jin Ling help sorting some papers. It was their usual deal, and it allowed Jin Ling to tell his father he was taking an interest in sect business, another thing Jin Zixuan was really weird and insistent about. 

A year or two ago, he’d overheard his father tell his mother that he, Jin Ling, was too much like Jin Zixuan himself had been at that age. The way he’d said it, it hadn’t sounded like a compliment. Soon after that, Jin Ling had been given new rules to follow, like having lunch with other juniors, and helping his father and little uncle with various tasks, and also his mother had a very awkward talk with him about how he should be nice to girls but not too nice either, in case they got the wrong idea and thought he was like his grandfather.

Grown-ups were weird.

In the afternoon, Jin Ling had more lessons to attend with his cousin, but he skipped them and went to practise archery instead. He’d seen enough of Jin Chan and the others already, and wasn’t sure he’d manage to keep his temper in check.

At the end of the day, Jin Ling finally returned to his house to pick up his new husband, so they could eat dinner with the rest of the family, the only meal they all had together, although his grandparents regularly found reasons not to attend. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that Wen Yuan had not left his room all day. Not only that, but it seemed as though he hadn’t eaten anything all along. There was a tray full of food on a table, probably lunch, and all of it was intact. And Jin Ling had already eaten breakfast by the time Wen Yuan woke up, so it was possible he’d eaten nothing all morning as well.

Jin Ling felt a little guilty for that. Sure it was stupid of Wen Yuan to fear poison, but Jin Ling should have made more of an effort to at least have breakfast with him. And did they show that boy were to go have lunch if he wanted to eat in company? The previous day had been so full, Jin Ling couldn’t remember. At least Wen Yuan was able to eat at dinner, but he was so thin that it couldn’t be good for him to skip meals like that.

The next day, Jin Ling was again unable to have breakfast with his husband. Wen Yuan overslept again, but Jin Ling had been threatened with punishment if he was late that morning too. He still made sure to return to their home at noon to show Wen Yuan where he could have lunch. He didn’t stay to eat with him, though, because he’d promised Jin Guangyao to give him a hand brushing Fairy.

As he walked away, Jin Ling glanced behind and saw that Wen Yuan, after some hesitation, decided not to enter the refectory and instead headed back for their home.

Well.

Jin Ling had tried. The rest was out of his hands.

The following days went on much the same. Wen Yuan still wouldn’t eat unless someone was present to taste the food before him, and he still refused to leave their home to be around people who could eat near him. Jin Ling tried to talk about it, but quickly got the impression that Wen Yuan wasn't really listening, so he gave up. But his husband's refusal to eat was bad enough that one servant mentioned to Jin Ling that the food they brought to Wen Yuan always remained untouched. And if servants were concerned enough to tell him, it meant pretty soon the entirety of Carp Tower would know as well.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when his parents demanded to see him one afternoon. Jin Ling had noticed some pretty sharp looks coming from them at dinners, and whenever they spotted him throughout the day. He'd made extra effort to not linger around them too much, certain he'd get scolded for something that wasn't even his fault. But if they asked for him specifically, then it couldn't be avoided anymore.

When he arrived at his parents’ house, the first thing Jin Ling noticed was the eerie quiet. His siblings weren’t there, then, not even the baby. Maybe his parents wanted to shout at him without scaring their younger children, the ones they loved so much they weren’t married to starving mute weirdos.

His mother was sitting on a sofa, looking purposefully relaxed. His father stiffly stood beside her, a disapproving frown already on his face.

“A-Ling, come sit with me,” Jiang Yanli gently invited, patting the spot next to her. “Oh, don’t make that face. You’re not in trouble, we just want to speak to you.”

Jin Ling shrugged, and stayed standing, just as stiff as his father. His mother sighed, as if she thought he was the most unreasonable person in the entire world, but she still smiled at him.

“Alright, if you’re more comfortable like this, it’s fine,” Jiang Yanli said. “Well, I think you can imagine why we wanted to talk to you, can’t you?”

“I can’t,” Jin Ling bluntly retorted. “You’ll have to tell me.”

“A-Ling, please,” his mother started, but her husband interrupted her.

“We want to know how things are between you and Wen Yuan,” Jin Zixuan stated. “It’s not an easy situation, for either of you. How are you dealing with it?”

Jin Ling glared at him, fighting not to let his hands form fists.

“It’s not easy for either of us?” he shouted. “Really? That’s all you can say? What’s not easy about this for him, exactly?”

“Watch your tone,” his father warned.

Jiang Yanli put one hand on her husband’s arm, the not-so-secret signal they had when she thought he should let her handle a difficult situation. It used to really be a secret signal, but since his grandfather has ordered his marriage Jin Ling had caused it to happen so often that he’d noticed it. Now it irritated him every time, while also making him feel ashamed that even his mother thought he was a problem to be solved.

“A-Ling, we know you are upset about the marriage,” Jiang Yanli told him. “I know you think we betrayed you, but I promise you we tried everything we could to change your grandfather’s mind. We always promised ourselves none of our children would be forced to marry someone they didn’t choose, and you cannot imagine how sorry we are.”

“Sure, you are,” Jin Ling grumbled.

“It wasn’t our choice,” his mother insisted, something like distress piercing through her voice, making Jin Ling even more upset. “Your grandfather was very determined. Things are what they are now, but we want to ensure everything is going as well as it can. For you, and for Wen Yuan too. You have your family around you, your home, but that poor boy is alone among strangers, and his struggles…”

“What struggles?” Jin Ling exploded. “He’s just a useless, ugly, stupid person!”

Both of his parents startled, and exchanged a concerned look.

“A-Ling…”

“He is!” Jin Ling shouted. “He really is stupid! Only a stupid person would still think he’s going to be poisoned after so many days here! And he’s so stupid that he never wants to leave the house, even when I invite him to come walk around with me! And he looks so bad, with his hair that’s always messy and the way he can never dress correctly! Jin Chan keeps telling me I’m married to a scarecrow and he’s not wrong! I’m the heir of the Lanling Jin sect, I’m going to rule it someday! Why do I have to be married to that guy? I’m the heir of the greatest sect, I should have my pick among all the prettiest and smartest people in the cultivation world, but instead I’m stuck with that!”

His mother’s face turned red. His father’s, white. Both of them stared at him with undisguised horror, as if they couldn’t believe that their son dared to have such feelings, when Jin Ling couldn’t imagine anyone feeling any other way if they were forced into such a cruel and unfair situation.

“He’s just the same,” Jin Zixuan whispered with undisguised horror. “Listen to him, isn’t he just the way I was?”

Tearing her eyes from her son, Jiang Yanli weakly smiled at her husband and patted him on the arm.

“Dear, now isn’t the time for this.”

“But…”

“Why don’t you let me talk with him alone?” Jiang Yanli suggested in that very gentle tone of hers that was always to be understood as a firm order. “If you’re upset over nonsense, you won’t be helpful, and this is a situation we can’t leave to fester.”

Jin Zixuan nodded with some hesitation. He strode out of the room, purposefully avoiding looking at his son. It wasn’t the first time Jin Ling felt his father was disappointed by his bad temper, but that day it particularly hurt.

“A-Ling, come sit,” his mother said when his father had closed the door behind him, still using that same gentle-suggestion-but-actually-an-order tone.

Jin Ling wanted to refuse, but a lifetime of habit was stronger. Before he knew it, he was next to his mother on the sofa. Still, as a vain act of rebellion, he sat as far from her as he could. She did not comment on it.

“A-Ling, I am not angry at you,” Jiang Yanli said. “Neither is your father.”

“Yeah, right!”

“Right indeed,” she insisted. “He’s upset at himself, that’s all, and only because he doesn’t see things the way I do. And you… my poor little boy, have things really been that bad with that new husband of yours? Has he made you very miserable?”

“Like that matters,” Jin Ling grumbled.

“It does,” Jiang Yanli assured him, reaching to take his hand. 

Jing Ling pulled it away, but she grasped for it again, and once she had it she held it too tightly for him to think of escaping.

“A-Ling, even if we cannot dissolve the wedding when your grandfather is so determined on having this alliance, it doesn’t mean I’ll let you suffer for the sake of his ambition,” Jiang Yanli said. “If Wen Yuan is cruel to you in private, if there is something about his behaviour or manners that is objectionable, we won’t force a cohabitation.”

“He is objectionable. He is unpleasant and unworthy of being married to me.”

Jiang Yanli grimaced, but managed to turn that into a smile.

“You’ve certainly made that clear. Is it what you really think, though, or are you just angry because your cousin is mocking you about this?”

“I don’t need Jin Chan to tell me how to feel about things,” Jin Ling haughtily retorted.

“Indeed you don’t,” Jiang Yanli agreed. “So tell me what you think of your husband, not what your cousin feels. Is Wen Yuan difficult to live with?”

Jin Ling hesitated. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to hate Wen Yuan whose arrival in his life had made everything worse. But it was always harder to be furious when he was around his mother. Maybe it was the way she really seemed to listen to him, when most grown-ups didn’t.

“He is not… difficult as such,” Jin Ling reluctantly admitted. “Sometimes, it’s like there’s nobody at all living with me. He’s really weird, you know. I meant it, he doesn’t know how to dress or do his hair, and he refused to have servants do it for him. And also, he thinks we’re going to poison him.”

Jiang Yanli's eyebrows rose in surprise.

“He told you that?”

“No. He never speaks to me at all!” Jin Ling complained. “But it’s clear he’s scared of poison. He never eats anything if someone else hasn’t also eaten it. I know grandfather hasn’t noticed, but I worry grandmother has, and I thought you did as well.”

Jiang Yanli shook her head, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Her hand tightened on Jin Ling’s, almost painfully so.

“I only saw that he wasn’t eating very much,” she said, “although his portions have gotten a little more lately. I thought maybe… during the Sunshot Campaign, if we rescued from the Wens someone unpracticed in inedia who had been left without food for a long time, they weren’t allowed to eat a lot, not right away. It can be dangerous, I've been told. But I don’t think… Wei Ying would never let a child of his starve, not unless something was very wrong. After what happened when he was young… he could not, I am sure of it.”

Jiang Yanli sounded so sure of herself as she said that, as if Wei Wuxian were still the same childhood friend she’d grown up with, and not a man inspiring fear in the entire cultivation world. Her mother had been very close to the man who became the Yiling Patriarch, Jin Ling knew that. He’d even heard people say that the true reason Wei Wuxian had left the Jiang sect was because Jiang Cheng hadn’t allowed him to marry his sister, opting to let her have a love match.

If that was true, then nobody must have told Jiang Yanli. She still believed that Wei Wuxian was at heart a good person, even when there was ample proof he wasn’t, like the way he was rumoured to sometimes kill his own disciples in the streets of Yiling if they displeased him.

“So these are your reproaches?” Jiang Yanli asked her son. “He has odd eating habits, he doesn’t speak a lot, and he does not pay attention to his looks. Those are things we could try to solve, I think. I will have a talk with him, if you don’t mind. Unless there are other issues?”

“Just that is already pretty bad!” Jin Ling insisted, but in spite of himself he already felt less angry at Wen Yuan.

It really was just those things that annoyed him about his husband. Anyway, the food thing mostly irritated him because he was worried Wen Yuan was going to fall sick if he kept not eating, which everyone would blame on Jin Ling. The silent treatment was also not great, but Jin Ling hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to chat either after the first day or two, so he wasn’t exactly on steady grounds to complain about that. As for Wen Yuan’s looks… well, he looked like an underfed wet rat who someone wrapped in silk robes. There was no denying it. But it wasn’t exactly his fault.

All of the rest of Jin Ling’s anger was really against a lot of other people, mostly Jin Chan and Jin Guangshan. But he wasn’t really supposed to be angry at them because they were family, so it was easier to blame Wen Yuan for everything.

“I’ll go visit your husband right away,” Jiang Yanli decided, as she got up from the sofa, pulling her son’s hand so he’d stand too. “Why don’t you go and visit your little uncle? I think playing with his dog would do you good right now.”

“She’s a spiritual dog, mother, I don’t play with her!” Jin Ling protested, rolling his eyes. “I train her for him, because he’s so busy. It’s not fun, it’s very serious!”

“Well, go and train that puppy then,” his mother gently suggested-but-really-ordered, releasing his hand at last.

There was no resisting her when she was like that. Jin Ling walked toward the door, but stopped short of opening it.

“Mother…” he hesitantly started. “Father, he… he seemed really angry at me, earlier…”

“I will talk to him, A-Ling,” Jiang Yanli said, coming closer to press a kiss on his temple, like Jin Ling was some sort of upset baby to comfort. “I think once I tell him what we’ve talked about, he’ll actually be proud of you. I know I am. You’re dealing with this so much more maturely than we had any right to expect.”

Jin Ling huffed, trying to pretend he didn’t need anyone’s approval, but he couldn’t completely refrain a smile as he left the house.

[liz-allyn]

heat of the moment, pt 6 - carpe diem (finale) [tasm!peter x reader x groundhog day au]

summary: everything ends, eventually.  angst; fluff; humor; final destination vibes; and yes this is in tribute to my favorite episode of television ever written - “mystery spot”

words: 11.6k

warnings: death. a lot of it. repeatedly. in this chapter: tw description of death by car accident, fire, drowning, asphyxiation, self h*rm, mass casualty event.

a/n - don't you hate it when stories just dump a ton of exposition in the last chapter? haha fuck

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

The sun had long set as you crouched down stealthily on a roof overlooking an industrial complex next to the Holland Tunnel. It was near the entrance on the New York side of the Hudson River, far from the dumpster you sought out. 

After leaving Claire, you had met Peter across town and inspected the burned-out site tediously. There wasn’t much left behind, save for a few singed sheets of paper nearby. Shipping invoices for an address on the other side of Manhattan. 

Alarms went off in your head at the perplexity of someone dumping their trash all the way over here. You were determined to follow this lead, and quickly. 

Working against time, you were now in pursuit. You gazed out over the street below as you studied the tall, rectangular, art deco-style, brick structure. The exteriors looked repainted and somewhat modernized, part of ongoing renovations to the Holland Tunnel, you figured. Now at the heart of the tallest building, a 50-foot-wide clock face doubled the size of ‘Big Ben,’ with golden dials that added to the aesthetic.

The clock face leered maliciously at you, like a hungry dragon perched on a tower. Like the hands would come alive, and spring out sharp teeth that gobbled you up.

What a way to go.

The face stares down at you, knowingly, like a proverbial ‘Eye of Sauron,’ meeting you at the edge of Mordor. The minute hand lurches past 10:50 to 10:51, reminding you of its quicksilver nature.

You’d never made it past 10:30 PM before. 

You’re deep behind enemy lines. 

Wearing the Spider suit, Peter swung to your position, his feet landing on the roof as gently as a cat’s. He crouched down to your level, lifting his mask from his sweaty face.

“Okay, so something is definitely off with that building,” Peter whispered. “It’s using a ton of power. Way more than any New York City building should.” He noted your distant look and silence, hypnotized by the ominous feeling the clock gave you. He eyed you suspiciously, “Exactly what are we looking for here?”

You pursed your lips, observing the slow crawl of vehicle traffic clogging itself into the tunnel. You could see the lights of a construction crew near the tunnel entrance. You smelled the heavy fumes of semi trucks trickling in between passenger vehicles. You felt the wind chilling the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Something bad,” you replied grimly.

Peter stared at you incredulously, brow furrowed, waiting for further explanation. The humor was beginning to evaporate from his mood, a heavy tension settling in between you. No further explanation followed.

“Okay,” he declared, more firmly now. “We’re done here.”

That caught your attention. He reached for you and you flinched back. “No, wait, we can’t leave!”

“Honestly, this has gone on far enough,” Peter replied with a serious tone, his mocha eyes filled with concern. “You start talking about time loops at breakfast and then you throw muffins at me and ghost me for hours, you won’t answer any of my questions, you can’t just lay shit out like that and not explain yourself—”

“We have to get inside that building.”

“Why?!” he snapped, temper flaring. You knew his frustration was branching from his anxiety, and you had to find a way to diffuse it.

“Something inside that building is affecting your abilities!” you whispered harshly. You were also losing control. “Why don’t you want to find out what it is?”

A deep crease formed in his brow, stubbornness feeding indignation. “Tell me why. Why can’t we just go home right now? Tell me the truth!”

You pulled your eyes away, dropping them to the ground. “We can’t go home, Peter,” you firmly stated, and it sounds like you’re admonishing a child.

“Tell me why right now, or I throw you over my shoulder—”

“Because I never make it back home alive!” you blurted out.

He blinks at you. Eyes narrow. Observes you. Brow furrows. Head tilts. Pupils go wide. Face pales. Heart rate increases. 

“What do yo—” the words trickle off, shrinking away as they leave his mouth. With them, they take the air from his lungs. His shoulders tense. “What does that— what are you talkin’ about? What’re you sayin’?” On reflex, he grasps at your arms. His face searches yours, betrayed.

You reach out for him, gripping his shoulders. It begins to ground him, but doesn’t release the building pressure. You steady yourself. Meet him in his own time.

“Peter, listen,” you softly cooed, “it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

He exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. His eyes looked like he was torn between the urge to argue, and the need to hold you. 

He swallowed hard, his fingers finding yours, gripping your hands like he used to hold his stuffed animals. “I don’t under—”

“What I’m about to say is going to freak you out, but we need to be on the same page about this,” you slowly explained. “Every day for the last... I don’t know how many... several-thousand Tuesdays... I wake up. And it’s Tuesday. And then, somehow, it ends with me dying. And then I wake up—and it’s Tuesday again.”

He stares. Eyes glazing black.

“Stay with me, Pete,” you pleaded, your hands cupping his cheeks. “I think whatever is causing this to happen is connected to something in that building.”

“No,” Peter said. Darkness enveloped his voice. “You’re not gonna die. Don’t say that.” He shook his head. An unsettling firmness crept into his tone.

“I have this feeling,” you explained, “that it’s all connected. The time loop. Your abilities not working right. The dying—”

“You’re not gonna die,” he asserted, with even more resolve.

You pursed your lips, falling silent. For a moment, you let yourself drown in the dark pools of his gaze. They’re like thick, dark storm clouds. Heavy blackness crackling with bolts of lightning. You read his face carefully, choosing your words delicately.

“I believe you,” you answered, finally. It was the truth. He studied your reaction too, and tension released from his shoulders slightly. “But we have to get into that building.”

He nodded once, swallowing back his anxiety, then took you by the shoulders. “But you’re not going in there. You’re staying put.”

You rolled your eyes. “Peter, we don’t have time for this!”

He shook his head, jaw firmly set. “I’m not doing this again.” He wasn't talking about last Tuesday.

“I am not Gwen,” your voice bellowed.

He went silent at her name, still dumbstruck by shame and grief. It was like you slapped him. He dropped his eyes to his feet, sorrow building steadily.

You softened your expression and your tone. “You aren’t the ‘you’ from then, either.”

The sharp, smooth line of his jaw quivered for just a moment, and you brushed your fingers along the freckles there. His lashes fluttered closed at the gesture. 

“I know that you’re afraid of what you’ll lose,” you whispered, featherlike. Like telling a secret. “I know you think it’ll break you. But I’ve seen the best and the worst of you, Peter Parker.” 

He looked up at you, and the utter endearment on your face was enough to take his breath away. It brought tears to his eyes. 

“I believe in you,” you stated. As certain as the sky is blue. “Every day. Forever. Even if you don’t believe in yourself. So please. Believe in me.”

Peter grimaced, fear piercing his chest. He pushed it down. He nodded. “Always.”

You held his gaze lovingly. Despite your predicament, you strangely wished you could freeze the moment.

“Okay,” you smirked, eyes bright. “Let’s do this. Remember, there’s no fate but what we make, right?”

You moved to stand, but he reached out and grabbed you. “Wait.” You glanced back at him, catching the puzzled look on his face. “When did you see Terminator?”

You quirked a brow, teasingly mysterious in your reply. “I’m a sci-fi nerd, now. What about it?”

11:14 PM

After careful effort, and more minutes than you wanted to lose, you made it inside to find your suspicions were correct. 

You were standing inside of a control room next to two knocked out, webbed-up security guards. You closely studied a vast array of CCTV monitors above you. Your boyfriend was hunched over a screen, listening intently to the conversations of plant workers—some of which he’d recognized as former science division employees of Oscorp. You recognized some of them too, from Alchemax. And Horizon Labs. And Roxxon.

“Okay,” you asked, glancing warily at the time. “Do we have any idea why these guys are all in this building? Was there a mad scientist convention or something?”

“Is it weird that I’m low-key, kinda offended that I didn’t even get an invite?” Peter grumbled, shaking his masked head bitterly. “Am I weird for thinking that? Is that bad?”

You gave him an incredulous glare. “I’m sure it’s in your spam folder.”

“It’s fine,” Peter flatly declared. It wasn’t fine. 

He uncrossed his arms to lean his weight on his palms, staring at one of the screens intently. “Here,” he noted, calling your attention to a computer screen visible on the security camera. “These are plans. They’re building something. We need to find out what.”

11:22 PM

Deeper inside the facility, you hid behind the door of a windowless office. Your palms were clammy, and sweat poured out of you. It wasn’t just the tension. It was the heat. A massive source of energy, Peter had explained, from some part of the building.

A bespectacled, bird-like, middle-aged man wearing a lab coat entered the office. You slammed the door behind him. Startled, he turned around and spotted you, a mix of confusion and growing alarm. He opened his mouth to yell just as two red gloves reached down around his head and clamped his jaw shut. 

You looked up at Spider-Man, dropping from his hiding place on the ceiling, as he muffled the screams of the captive. The scientist flailed uselessly in Peter’s arms, overcome with panic. You shuddered as you noted Spider-Man’s grip was little a rougher than normal.

“Spidey,” you soft admonished. He looked up at you and spotted the timid anxiety in your eyes. He took the hint.

Peter turned the captive scientist around and sat him down in his own desk chair. With a couple of webs he was bound to the fake leather padding. 

The man gaped up through wire-rimmed glasses at Spider-Man’s towering frame, his eyes wide with terror. Without being prompted, you reached into the pockets of the lab coat, snatching his ID badge off its lanyard. You pocketed several keys, metal and magnetic. You flipped through his wallet for clues.

Spider-Man kicked his leg up on the seat of the captive’s chair, leaning on his own thigh crassly. “Hey, buddy!” the vigilante greeted with a bright, cheery smile as you searched him. 

You glanced at the name on the scientist’s ID badge. “Joseph,” you supplied.

“Hey, Joe!” Spider-Man corrected. Despite the chipper tone, the muscles in his neck were pulled taught. He looked like a dog about to snap. “Whatcha buildin’ under here?”

Your boyfriend released the scientist’s mouth. His wild eyes darted anxiously between the two of you. ‘Joe’ attempted to calm himself down, stuttering as he sought out what’s left of his courage.

“Do you have any idea where you are?” he spat ferociously. “You two are screwed! You’re not getting outta here. You’re in way over your heads! I’m not telling you anything! You can’t make me talk—”

A web slapped over Joe’s mouth, gagging him. You shot your boyfriend an impatient glare. “We don’t have time for this,” you warned him.

Spider-Man kept his attention on his captive, shrugging his shoulders. “You heard the lady,” he said, almost apologetically. Peter dropped his foot from the chair and sidled up to the man, gripping his hair and yanking his head back. You flinched as you watched him brandish a blade and swipe at the webbing across the man’s mouth with cobra-like quickness. He sliced an opening in the gag, allowing his captive to breathe.

“Since we’re a little short on time, we’re gonna cut to the chase, yeah?” he explained, his pleasant-sounding demeanor coming short of masking the malice in his tone. “I’m Spider-Man. You’re a bad guy. And you caught me on a really weird day. So instead of hanging you by your ankles off the edge of a high-rise, or tossing you off the Statue of Liberty, or webbing you up over Fifth Avenue in nothin’ but your tighty-whities, I’m gonna fast-forward.” 

The vigilante tilted his head down until he was directly in front of Joe’s face, lowering his voice to a serpent’s hiss. “You’re going to tell me what you’re building here, or I’ll end you. Simple as that.”

You flicked your eyes to Spider-Man, shifting your weight between your feet. You squeezed your eyes closed, pushing images of Peter’s rage from your anxious thoughts. 

“Keep in mind, I can hear your heart beat,” your boyfriend sneered, looming over his captive. “I can tell what it sounds like if you’re lying. I can hear my own heart, too. Wanna know what it sounds like right now?”  

The scientist stared back blankly as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, eyes as wide as saucers. 

Spider-Man tilted his head, lowering the opaque lenses of his mask closer. “Murder.”

The single word hung in the air like the toll of a bell, or the echoing crack of thunder. Thick black toxic smoke that threatened to choke them. Your stomach twisted, recognizing that his teasing savagery was more than simple posturing. You’d seen him like this before. You had experience in keeping an eye on the pressure gauge.

You glanced at the clock on Joe’s desk. 

11:24 PM

“Please,” you blurted out, unsure to whom you were speaking. Maybe to anyone who would listen.

“Here it is,” Spider-Man declared. “The one and only time I’m gonna ask. What supervillain’s new gadget are you building here?”

The quivering man stared at him, dumbstruck, slowly turning so white he’d eventually camouflage into the walls. “You-you got this all wrong...” he stuttered.

“How so?” Spider-Man didn’t miss a beat. “Details, Joe.”

“...Claire?”

Your surprised tone snapped both men's attention back to you. You stood at the scientist’s desk, eyes fixed on a photo frame. You picked it up, gazing down at the faces in shock.

Joe’s demeanor changed instantly. Any sense of bravado he had evaporated. “That’s my daughter’s name,” he gulped, pulse thumping in his throat. “How-how do you know my daughter’s name?”

You stared down at the photo of your beautiful Grim Reaper, flanked by a woman you had come to recognize as her mother and the man currently webbed to a chair. The photo was taken on a bright sunny day, Yankee Stadium in the background. Claire looked much younger than she did now, as did both of her parents. Not just younger—brighter. More hopeful. More alive. 

Your mouth hung open as you glanced up at the captive. “Joseph Rivers? You’re Claire’s father?”

Dr. Rivers looked up at Spider-Man, his face going pale. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She doesn’t ha-have anything to-to do with this mess. Leave her out of this. I beg you.”

Peter met your eyes, and although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was confused. You didn’t tell him about Claire today, or any of the times she’d tried to kill herself.

Your gaze dropped down to Dr. Rivers. “Do you have any idea what your daughter’s been doing today?”

He looked perplexed. “I... I—” 

“Do you know she tried to commit suicide?” you snapped, marching up to his chair. He flinched at the information, a lightning bolt shooting to his heart. You crossed your arms, glaring down at him indignantly. “And where were you?” 

You know it’s judgmental. You know it’s unfair. But this was Claire. And Tuesday had given you enough insight into her life to feel like defensive, after everything.

“I—” Rivers was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “I don’t... They don’t let us have our phones—I mean, I-I knew she had troubles before...” His throat tightened, chest constricting, “Is-is she okay?” He looked heartbroken. Terrified. You saw Peter’s shoulders slump, head turning away.

You watched Rivers through narrowed lids, but you couldn’t deny the agony in his question. The fear in his face. “For now,” you answered. “Because I saved her. But she needs real help.” You leveled your gaze. “And so do we, Mr. Rivers.”

Rivers looked back up at Spider-Man, still observing the side of his mask. The masked vigilante was unable to meet his gaze. He looked over at you again, reading your resolve. His eyes dropped to the photo frame in your hands, his chin clenching. Eyes also filled with shame.

“It’s a weapon,” Rivers declared. “They tell us it’s not, but I’m not stupid. We all know what it is.”

“What kind of weapon?” Peter asked, facing him again.

“You ever heard of Havana Sickness?” Rivers asked him. “Well, that was version one.” 

Your eyes ping-ponged between the two scientists. “Can somebody translate?”

Peter explained, his gaze fixed on Rivers, as he provided you context. “Few years ago a group of diplomats started getting sick in Havana. Nausea, dizziness, ringing in the ears—all the way up to sudden, unexplained pain and trouble with cognition. Nobody ever found out what caused it. Some people think it was all in their heads, others think it was some kind of staged attack.”

“A directed energy weapon,” Rivers revealed, his voice grave. “And now it’s been perfected. This one is far more advanced than anything that’s ever been built. Electromagnetic waves charged by plasma. Its power is unprecedented.”

“Sounds rad,” Peter snipped flatly. “Probably worth a pretty penny to the highest bidder. Speaking of which. Whose bankrolling this, Joey? Is it Fisk? Is it the Osbournes?”

Rivers let out a bitter laugh. “You’re joking, right?” He stared at you incredulously. “You think you’re dealing with some greasy, mob boss? Some corporate shenanigans?” 

You and Peter glanced at each other. 

“Look around you, kids!” Rivers spat. “We’re in a secret underground base underneath the Hudson River, for godssake. This whole operation is run by Uncle Sam. It’s the fucking C.I.A., you dimwits.”

You stared at him, stunned and silent. 

Peter threw his arms in the air in exasperation. “I don’t believe it! Seriously?” He spun in a circle, hands landing on his head, then faced Rivers again, jabbing his finger in his face.

“Okay. Number one. Rude," he said, clipped. Just because I wasn’t invited to your little World of Warcraft campaign doesn’t make me an idiot, got that?” Your shot a withering look at the back of your boyfriend’s head.

“Second:” he continued, with a disgusted tone. “Billions of dollars and almost all of the greatest minds in the world and the G-Men are using this—for what—a new toy? What, did Santa not bring you guys enough guns for Christmas?!”

Rivers argued, “Technology like this would make nuclear war obsolete! It could stop any intercontinental ballistic missile—safely—miles above the Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Could also burst the eardrums of some unruly protestors,” Peter criticized with disdain. He crossed his arms, glaring down at the scientist suspiciously. “Destabilize a few unfriendly governments?”

“Burn the tiny hairs off a spider?” You asked, finally interrupting the quarrelling men. Rivers and Peter gave you a look.

You sighed, “This is exciting and all, but I can’t reiterate how much time for this shit I don’t have!” You glared at Rivers impatiently. “Congratulations, Doc. The weapon you’re building also tears a hole in the space-time continuum. Well done. Now would you please just tell us where it is, so we can pull the plug?”

The older man glanced back and forth between you. “You… can’t…?”

“It was a figure of speech, man,” Peter snapped at him. “She doesn’t actually think there’s a power cord—”

“No, what I mean is it’s already been built,” Dr. Rivers explained. “You’re too late. It’s on a truck leaving now.”

11:41 PM

This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. You’re certain of it. 

And it may very well be the last thing you ever do. 

You watch helplessly as the box truck carrying the Weapon of the Future is driven into the tunnel. Your boyfriend (who left you behind to stay put) is attached to the top of it, in an attempt to steal it. 

You think on that again. 

Your boyfriend, Spider-Man, is going to steal one of the most advanced weapons the world has ever known, from the C.I.A.

This is only the second stupidest thing he’s ever done. The top spot was recently awarded when he webbed you to Rivers’ desk and left you behind. For your safety. 

As if you didn’t have your own pocket knife on you, to free yourself from the webbing.

You had run outside just to see the unmarked white truck entering the tunnel. There was no way of catching up to it on foot.

So. Here you are, contemplating the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. 

You see a stationary police cruiser, brake lights on, engine running. Waiting in line to enter the tunnel. You recognize the single occupant in the front seat. 

“Y’know, Cage,” you declare as you saunter up to the open drivers’ side window, “you really gotta stop working doubles.” The rookie officer flinched at the sound of your voice, turning towards you in utter confusion. “Just because your wife threw you out doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep.”

He gazed at you, jaw falling open, white as a ghost. 

You reached forward and gripped the back of his head, slamming his nose into his own steering wheel. 

He hissed in pain as you opened the drivers’ side door and reached down towards his belt. You unclipped his service arm pistol, pointing it at him. Like you’d done it 1,000 times before. 

Officer Cage froze in horror, staring up at the barrel of his own gun, stunned at your speed and dexterity. Doing that never failed to give you a rush. 

“Out,” you ordered.

Hands raised, he pulled himself out of his seat and stood awkwardly next to his car. You hopped in the drivers’ seat and flipped the switch to turn on the emergency lights. 

Like you’d done it 1,000 times before. 

Perplexed, Officer Cage watched you incredulously, as you leaned out of the window and tossed his weapon back at him. 

The second it landed in his hands, he’d accidentally pulled the trigger. But no bullet was fired.

“I emptied it,” you explained. 

He looked at you like you were a witch. 

“Maybe spend some more time on the range first?” you offered gently, shifting the car into gear. “And maybe in some therapy, too?” You stepped on the gas pedal, leaving him in the dust. 

You swerved, driving around the heavy congestion of vehicles, entering the tunnel. Sirens wailing.

11:43 PM

Peter held on tightly to the roof of the cargo hold as the truck drove around the traffic, allowed by the tunnel construction crew to pass. He honestly started to wonder if the tunnel was really under construction at all, or if it was all some elaborate hoax.

Maybe you were right, he thought. Maybe everything is connected and therefore nothing is nothing and we’re all pawns living in some sort of simulated plan.

“God, I really need to touch some grass,” he groaned through gritted teeth, as he ducked his head beneath the overhanging signs of the tunnel. 

11:44 PM

You saw the truck ahead of you. You toggled the police car’s sirens, switching it to a piercer effect. 

The short bursting yelps must have caught the driver’s attention, because you saw brake lights flash. Then, they turned off as the truck sped up. Your stomach sank.

“No, no...” 

You could see the lanky limbs of your boyfriend flail as he struggled to get a better grip on the roof of the vehicle. You sighed, biting your lip with trepidation. The device wasn’t even on and already he was becoming less sticky. The truck dashed on, weaving around vehicles, disappearing from sight. You stepped on the gas and tried to catch up.

What you could not see, what Peter could not see, and—tragically— what the truck driver could not see, was the debris in the road. 

A six-inch steel ratchet that had fallen off of one of the construction trucks.

For any speeding vehicle, running over it would’ve resulted in a missing hubcap and a bent rim.

For a 26-foot box truck weighing 15 tons, traveling at 67 miles per hour through a crowded construction zone, the result was catastrophic. 

You watched, wide-eyed, as the truck jolted in front of you. 

It was simple math. 

Peter was knocked loose as the vehicle swerved like a serpentine from left to right, side-swiping vehicles on both sides. 

Every variable locked firmly in place.

Spider-Man was thrown into the hood of a stalled vehicle. You screamed as you watched his body crush the windshield. You slammed on the brakes. 

The unchanging constant. The outcome was inevitable.

Everything else that followed was like a choreographed dance.

A symphony written by fate. Every note falling into place, crescendoing to a deafening disaster.

The truck swerves. Pitches. Thrown off balance.

Road construction workers turn and shout. 

Another truck is stopped in the path. The cargo filled with flammable gasses.

There’s a collision.

A spark. A bright light.

A shockwave.

11:47 PM

Outside the tunnel, Officer Cage pauses from his frantic shouts into his radio. He turns and sees a bright light shooting out of the entrance. The shockwave that follows jolts cars, bursts glass, sets off alarms, and moves the Earth beneath his feet. 

The clockface of the Holland Tunnel ventilation tower is jarred, the hands jerking loose. The arms drop.

The time now says it’s 1:21. But it's wrong. Everything about this is so wrong.

There is no time left.

Cage turns pale as the tunnel entrance crumbles like a sandcastle, sealing all the vehicles inside. 

Another burst of light erupts. This one from the middle of the river.

11:47 PM

You’re gripping the steering wheel, and then you’re upside down, slamming into the roof. You taste blood and glass and metal.

Everything is white. You reach up to shield your eyes, but you can’t.

The light is blinding, shooting through your flesh like an x-ray. You can see right through your hands, observing every bone, vein, and capillary. 

Then.

Darkness.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT...”

No.

“...Tellin’ me.  what.  my. HEART meant...”

No, no, no, I need more time!

“...The HEEEAT of the MOMENT…

Showed in your EYEEEES…”

Your eyes pop open as you are viciously ripped away from the darkness. They burn instantly from the smoke.

Your senses are assaulted by the smell of blood and gasoline and salt water. Screams and sirens invade your ears.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT...”

Your bleary eyes struggle to adjust to the shadows, dark shapes taking form. You see an orange flickering glow. Punctuated with flashes of red and blue. Flames. Voices call out. Echoing. Steady horn blasts. Car alarms shrieking. The shrill cacophony of dozens of personal safety alarms—PASS devices, as Tuesday had taught you—magnify as they bounce off the concrete. 

There’s a roaring sound, too. Like a train passing. 

A sheet of crushed glass blocks your view. It looks like ice and snow, like you could reach out and wipe it off the windshield. 

You remember that you’re in the police car. 

You’re on your chest. You know your ribs are broken. You’re used to the pain.

“Tellin’ me.  what.  my. HEART meant...”

Peter. You have to find Peter.

“The HEEEAT of the MOMENT…

Showed in your EYEEEES…”

You hate this fucking song.

You push yourself up, crawling over the inverted dashboard, pulling yourself along with bloody fingers. You kick the shattered windshield out, feeling the sharp heat of crushed glass cutting into your leg. It’s no matter. If you have air left in your lungs, you have to find Peter.

When you crawl out, you’re drenched in freezing water. Your feet slosh in it as it crawls up your ankles. You take a shaky breath, and immediately sputter. Your ribs are definitely broken. And the air burns your lungs when you breathe.

You look up, trying to get your bearings. Look around. 

This is the worst, you think. This is the absolute worst. 

But no one will ever have to take your word for it, you realize. 

History will be more telling.

Around you, it’s pandemonium. 

The lights in the tunnel have gone out, save for headlamps and flashing lights of work vehicles. The red and blue police lights from your overturned cruiser are among them. And there’s fire, all around you, at both ends of the tunnel. Pockets of blackness in between the bonfires. 

It reminds you of war. Of war movies depicting the aftermath of the Blitz. Of grainy film footage of napalm swallowing a landscape, like somebody took the Sun and poured it out on a jungle.

The smell is awful and it makes you want to gag. Burnt rubber. Burnt hair. 

Dozens of cars and trucks, some of them crumpled like empty soda cans, all of them burning thick pillars of black smoke. The smoke looms across the tunnel ceiling. You can’t even see the ceiling tiles. Above you, there’s a boiling sky of black clouds. 

You hear the chorus of shouts. Shrill shrieks reverberating off the cement and tile. It sounds like people are being tortured. Like giant Grizzly bears must be ripping people apart. Disembodied voices screech for help, for God, for missing loved ones. You think you can hear an infant crying. Selfishly, you just want them to be quiet.

In the distance, the deep rumbling roar continues, like standing next to a jet engine. You also hear the echo of a synthesized keyboard riff, the wailing of an electric guitar. Asia rings out over the tinny squawk of car speakers from a battered minivan nearby. 

Because of course it fucking would be.

Massive chunks of concrete and twisted steel litter the broken asphalt. The whole roadway is flooded. A steady icy current claws at your calves, threatening to push you off balance. 

Immediately, you hear shrieks at your left, louder than the ones in the distance. You spot the figure of a man who has just woken up from the blast. 

Awful timing on his part. 

He’s engulfed in flames, burning alive. His lower half is pinned beneath an SUV. He looks like the squirming wick of a candle. The screams tear at your soul. You yank your eyes away. Your first instinct is to look for a rock to put him out of his misery. He’d thank you for it. 

Another sound jars you, the crumbling collapse of a wall nearby. You hear several sharp pops. You struggle to see through the dark. Melted bodies clad in safety orange glow clothing are right beside you. The water crests over them.

You look up towards the popping noises. Ceiling tiles, you realize. Water shoots into the tunnel under the immense pressure.

You squint beyond the dark, your eyes stinging from the acid clouds. Through the smoke and shadow you can see a wall. It’s moving. Your heart nearly seizes as you connect it to the roaring sound. 

It’s the sound of the Hudson River, pouring into the tunnel, waves crashing into the new underground cavern.

“Peter!” you shriek. Eyes darting around, remembering that you saw him fall. You turn around towards the opposite end of the tunnel. There’s nothing but rock and ash and burning metal behind you. And more screams, echoing in the dark. 

The tunnel must have collapsed, you realize. You wonder how many cars were buried beneath the rubble. Could be hundreds.

Your heart slams in your chest. You wonder if Peter is buried among them.

“Peter?” you scream, more panicked. 

Your voice cracks, and you know you’re not hoarse yet. You know it’s the carbon monoxide, the formaldehyde, the cyanide—the fatal cocktail of poison billowing around you. You can taste it in the air. You have minutes maybe.

It’s getting harder to see. You don’t want the darkness. The hellish chorus bouncing off of the cave of the tunnel. You’re struggling to hear his voice. You don’t want the quiet. 

You hear your name. Like a ray of sunshine.

You hear it again. Your boyfriend’s voice rings out.

“Peter!” you call out to him. 

In the shadows, a lanky figure stumbles out. You can barely make out the red-and-blue of his suit. His mask is off, he clutches the remnants of it in his bloody fist. It looks like he’s been dragged underneath a vehicle. The space shuttle, maybe.

He limps, his suit filthy and torn. A mix of sweat, blood, and soot coat his face and hair. 

But you can see his eyes. Black holes ripping galaxies apart. You feel a rush of relief as you wade through the water towards him.

“Peter!” you sob, unaware of when you started crying.

He spots you, and he might as well have dropped to his knees with tearful praise. “Thank god,” he gasps. He darts to you, sloshing through the water with his limp. As soon as he reaches you, he grabs ahold of you like he’s never going to let you go. You don’t want him to. 

His hands expand around the sides of your face like blinders, blocking out horrors that he didn’t want you to see. “You’re bleeding,” he exclaims, studying you carefully.

Blood streaks down the right of your face from a gash at your hairline. It’s not as bad as it looks, but now you’re aware of the pain. You don’t mind it too much. You’re mystified by his freckles. Your thumbs idly come up to wipe away the mud on them, wiping away some of his tears as well.

“Bug, look at me, are you okay?” Peter pleads. He’s still searching your face, unaware of how bad the damage is. 

The terror in his throat snaps you from your daze. You nod, salty tears stinging your wounds, as you bury your face in his chest. Your voice shakes. “I thought you were gone—”

He pulls you upright, his hands planted on the sides of your head as he steadies you. “I’m here,” Peter declares. It’s a promise. “I’m gonna get you outta here, alright?”

Your eyes widen, remembering the futility of your situation. You glance around, sparing another look to the chaos around you. 

Peter lets go of your cheeks to grip one of your coat sleeves. With a yank, he rips the fabric of the arm at the seam, clean from the shoulder. You watch in a haze, as he rolls the torn sleeve off of your arm, dipping it in the water below.

“Put this to your mouth!” he instructs, handing you the wet fabric. He has to shout over the roar of the water. “It’ll help with the smoke. We’re downwind right now. We gotta get below the flames.”

You know that’s a gross oversimplification of your current predicament. And you want to protest, because what about his lungs? But you follow his orders.

You glance from left to right, as does he. It’s pitch blackness away from the fire and water. You’re pinned between rock and river.

He holds your hand, tight enough to hurt. The shouting has begun to diminish now, which brings you no relief. You realize you can’t hear the baby anymore. You can't stop crying. You wonder what Peter must be feeling, and hope that his senses are still dampened. 

“C’mon,” he pulls you closer to the water side. That way leads further underground, but you understand the physics of it. Smoke rises, and the tunnel is acting like a chimney. Choosing to instinctively go back the way you came, to try to dig through the mass of rubble closer to the exit, would mean death by asphyxiation in less than two minutes.

You sludge through the frigid water. It’s waist-deep now, swirling around you. The further you descend the higher it gets. Peter grips you tight. It’s the only thing that keeps you from losing your mind. 

“Please help! Somebody help!”

You freeze in your steps and need your whole weight to keep Peter from pulling you along. You search frantically, recognizing that voice.

“Please, somebody help! I’m stuck!”

You see a crumpled taxi tossed on its side, teetering dangerously on a pile of rubble. Water bubbles up around the cab. Chewed fingernails with chipped polish reach out through a small gap, waving frantically. 

“Claire,” you breathe, stunned. You watch with wide eyes as the woman you saved earlier that Tuesday flails, trapped in the crushed taxi. The steel cages her in. Black water steadily creeps up around her. “Claire!”

“Help, please, I can’t move! I can’t—!” You hear coughing, gargling. 

“Peter, she’s stuck!” You point, and look up at him. The look on his face breaks your heart. He’s overwhelmed. He’s terrified. He looks at you, looks at the cab. He’s being torn apart inside. You’re asking him for too much. 

You pull away, “C’mon, help me!” Reluctantly, he moves with you, releasing your hand. He moves faster than you through the water, standing taller in the depths.

You reach the taxi as Claire’s screams become more panicked. The car is beneath boulders of concrete. You attempt to climb up on the cab. 

“Stay back!” Peter tells you. “This whole thing’s unstable!” The water is swarming, rising. Boiling, frigid, black death threatening to swallow the cab up. 

“Please, please, please,” Claire is babbling. You can barely see her bloodied face between the bars of her cage. “I-I can’t move my legs, please… I can’t—”

Peter works quickly above you to clear the rubble. “Hey, it’s me!” You tell her, your voice bright and placating. “Remember me? It’s okay. We’re here. Spider-Man’s here and we’re gonna get you out—“

Claire’s voice is weak, she’s barely able to speak between giant gasps of air. “Please, don’t—donwanna die… don’t wanna die, please I don’t want—”

You grip her hand tightly in yours. Tears sting your eyes. “Peter!”

“I’m goin’ I’m goin’!” He’s using his whole body to lift and loosen the rubble from the taxi.

The ground beneath you quakes. A rumble. Suddenly, you drop. You fall backwards to the water as the mound that the taxi is teetering on collapses. The taxi drops beneath the waterline. 

A web snatches your shoulder, keeping you above water, though the vacuum of air caused by the displacement threatens to drag you under. Peter plucks you from the water, suspending you by the web. 

“Be right back,” he huffs, like it’s nothing. He dives back in after the submerged taxi. 

You watch him disappear into the blackness, and can’t help but feel overwhelming horror at being left alone. It makes you feel ashamed. After the longest few seconds of your life, he reemerges. A body with sopping corn silk hair flops over his shoulder. 

He climbs back up to you and you drop from the web onto the hood of a floating car. The space between you and the ceiling is dramatically lower. You’re barely able to see him through the smoke. He hoists Claire up and lays her on the floating car, and you crawl towards her, putting your face to hers.

Her eyes are wide. Still. You have to be inches from her face to be able to see her terror-stricken look. 

“She’s gone,” Peter tells you, his heart breaking a little more as he says it.

You’re leaning over her dead body, seeing her bluish face for the 10,000th time. And you’re shrieking her name. Sobs wracking your body. The whole tunnel vibrates with your howls.

And that song. The notes melting away. The chorus drowns as its pulled under the river.

“C’mon, we gotta go!” Peter pleads. He grabs you by the arm. It’s not a request. He’s getting you out of there. Somehow. “We gotta climb—”

A horrible groan roars above you. You look up to see a piece of the ceiling moving downwards. It’s hurtling towards you, like a giant asteroid. Your extinction is imminent.

Peter pushes you out of the way.

You plunge back into the water, and it feels like a thousand needles pricking your skin. You open your eyes, which was a mistake, because you’re nearly blinded by the chemicals and salt water. You kick for your life. Your shoes feel like bricks, but you kick until you break the surface.

You gasp and choke and sputter. “Peter!” You gag and cough. “Peter!”

You open your eyes and you're still in Hell. Only blurrier. Darker. So quiet. No more babies. No more anyone.

You hear your name again. His voice chirps out. You look up and see the devil in question. The sight of him reels you in like a gravitational pull. You crawl over broken glass and rock and metal until you’re beside him.

Despite being half dead, your heart flutters at the sight of him—a glowing freckled face. Sparkling amber eyes. Messy crown of brunette hair, sopping wet with saltwater, motor oil, and blood.

He looks at you from the side, deliriously dazed and huffing with exhaustion.

Once he sees your face, he grins wide. Soft. Reminds you of the bright warmth of your bedsheets.

“Sunflower…” he breaths. He sounds dreamy. He sounds exhausted. His smile dims. “You’re bleeding...”

“I’m okay,” you sputter and cough, trembling from the cold and adrenaline. You're higher up now, near the ceiling of the tunnel. You can feel the water creeping up your back. Your eyes scan his face, attempting to see his freckles through the building smoke. You wrap your hands around his face just to know he’s there. “I’m okay, I’m okay... We have to get out of here, baby—Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he nods, but he isn’t moving fast enough. He looks so tired. “Need— n-need explos...ves.” He shutters, the cold piercing him. “C-cop car. Look—look in the trunk. Needa... explosion. Flash grenade. R-road flares...” He grimaces sharply. You can’t take your eyes off the softness of his lips. “Ch-check f-for pressurized can-canister—”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying—”

“Need to create an explosion... at the ho-hole, wh-where the water... C-create a vacuum—”

“There’s nothing, Peter, there’s no cop car, it’s underwater—”

“You need to go,” he states, and you fall silent. You stare at his lips. Blood tints them. You shake your head. Pull at his arms.

Your whole body shakes. Your eyes are hard. “We don’t have time, Pete. We have to get out—c’mon, we have to go—”

Your icy fingers grip at the warmth beneath his chest. They tug at him frantically. You mean to pull him up with just your thumbs if you have to.

“Bug,” he blinks at you. Tears fill in his eyes. 

Your hands are warm. Burning hot. You look down. And that’s when you see the spear lodged in his side. A half-inch wide black, twisted piece of rebar piercing his chest. Your mouth falls open at the sight. It’s needled through his ribcage, piercing the back, slicing through his lung in a way that you can physically feel. Phantom pain from past experience. 

Peter Parker’s blood coats your palms. You can’t handle this pain. It’s too much.

You look down at him, head shaking furiously. He silently mouths your name, a hopeless apology. You don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

“You ha-have to...go,” he chokes out. There’s more blood spilling from his lips. It’s harder for him to breathe. The water creeps up your shoulders, and threatens to drown you both. He’s going to drown before you, you realize, in his own blood.

“Pl-Please,” he says, voice breaking, “please ge-get out of here. Pl-please g-go.”

You shake your head. You grip his hands like holding onto the edge of a cliff. You hold tight, as if that could keep him with you. As if it could bring you more time.

“Ba-baby, please go... Please just go... Please, pro-promise me... you’ll get out of here...”

He’s fading, you realize, and you want to scream into the void. You want to headbutt the rebar and lodge it through your eye socket. Your chest heaves. You squeeze his hands tightly.

You nod your head. Realize that he doesn’t know what you know. He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen. There’s no way out of the tunnel. There’s no saving you. Either of you.

You nod. And he relaxes. “Just go... without me,” he pleads. His hard to hear him over the roar. You nod silently, tears roll down your face. 

“Mmm—m'sorry... so-so sorry—”

You’re still nodding as he fights to keep his eyes open. You pledge with your gaze. You promise him that you’ll survive. You lie. 

The light is gone. In his eyes, and in the tunnel. His grip loosens in your hold. The water crawls up your chin, and your head hits hard rock. You don’t want to let go. You don’t want to look away.

The water takes him, but you’re still holding onto his hands.

“It should’ve been me,” you cry. To yourself. Alone. In the dark. Underwater. It's the last thing you get to say.

You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, to see through the murky depth. You want to remember every freckle on his face, even as they’re drenched in tears. Darkness settles in anyway.

It’s hard to see how beautiful he is in the dark. 

Your lungs burn. There’s nowhere to go.

It should’ve been you. Not Peter. 

Every cell in your body screams at you, telling you it should’ve been you. You open your mouth to scream back. A heart-wrenching yowl. Water fills your mouth and your lungs.

You want to wake up. You want to go home. You want to go back. You want anything but this. 

Why aren't you waking up?

Elsewhere, above the Hudson.

A clock turns.

11:59...

TUESDAY, 7:00am

Your eyes popped open as you were viciously ripped away from the darkness. Music invaded your ears, your senses assaulted by a toe-tapping tune.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT

Tellin’ me.  what.  my. HEART meant

The HEEEAT of the MOMENT…

Showed in your EYEEEES…”

You opened your mouth wide and let the air fill your lungs. You can still feel the heat. You can smell the water. You gaze up at the stark white of your ceiling as giant tears flood your vision.

Tuesday.

Tuesday again.

You laid there. Shook with an odd mix of horror and relief. It was like waking from the most vivid nightmare of your life. Visions and sounds latched onto you like leeches. You cried silently like a child, cradled by your soft pillows and bedding. The only thing that keeps you from screaming out hysterically is the grounding feeling that comes with faith. Unquestionable. Undeniable.

You will die today.

It’s gospel. Inevitable. You’re supposed to die today. Not just you, you know now, through divine revelation. So many others. 

Regardless of how you meet your fate, nothing will prevent that horrific weapon from leaving that facility. The truck will drive into the tunnel. It will hit that debris. It will crash. And everyone in the tunnel will die.

Including Peter.

That is how the day ends, should you be alive to see it. That’s how his life ends. 

“Mornin’, Sunflower!” a pleasant voice rang out from your en suite bathroom. A moment later, Peter Parker’s head poked around the corner. His expression serenely naive of your gory last moments. 

Your heart shattered at the sight of him—a glowing freckled face, his sparkling amber eyes, a beautifully mischievous smile, and a messy crown of brunette hair. 

The memory of his dead face sliced through you. 

You looked away, grimacing. Sat up in bed, tears welling in your eyes.

You know what’s going to happen and you know what you have to do. No matter how painful. 

Today is the last day of the end of your life. 

“Babe?” he questioned, appraising you with a fading smile. He sensed your distress. He could smell your tears. “What’s the matter? You okay?” 

You stared at the blankets for a long while, your weight leaning back on the heels of your palms. You remained still, contemplative. The silence goes on longer than he is comfortable with.

You turned your face toward him, eyes sorrowful. 

“I’m breaking up with you, Peter.” 

It was quiet at the top of the Empire State Building. That’s why it was his favorite spot. Hair slicked with sweat, cheeks damp with salty streams of tears. Tragically, only sort of drunk. Peter’s mask was discarded beside him, next to an empty 3-liter bottle of McCormack’s. 

He took a swig from an identical bottle, nearly empty as well. Sourness set heavily on his tongue and it made him even more bitter. He couldn’t even afford the good stuff.

Fucking loser.

He swallowed down the acid water with disdain and self-contempt.

In his other hand, he toyed with the velvet box he kept hidden in his bedside drawer. Today, of all days. 

He was past the shock. Past the denial. Past bargaining. Somewhere between anger and depression. Actually, he was a mix of all of the emotions. 

You’d killed him. Crushed him. Murdered him in less than 100 words. A shot straight to the heart, without batting an eye. You were the deadliest assassin he’d ever known. You were savage, the cruelest villain he’d ever faced. 

You were his everything. He was the problem. 

That’s what you’d told him, swinging the axe down and cutting your ties. He was always gone. He was always late. He was always Peter Parker. 

Peter Parker would always be Spider-Man. 

And that was the nail in the coffin. That was reason enough. The killing blow.

As stunned as he was, he was almost… relieved. He knew this day would come. He knew you were too good for him, too good to be true, and this was a natural progression of that.

He always knew would lose you. He was grateful that at least he wasn’t standing over your grave this time. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been crying. He wasn’t sure what time it was. Time was meaningless.

The buzz of his phone was the first thing that broke him from his pity party. He flinched as he frantically dug for the advice.

Shamefully, he prayed that you were calling him to tell him you changed your mind. Or your conversation this morning was part of an elaborate hoax. The world’s greatest ‘punking.’ Ashton Kutcher springs out of nowhere. He’d happily laugh it off. He’d chuckle like a fool and rush home to scoop you up in his arms. Sick burns and all.

Fingers fumbling, he accepted the call and slapped the phone to the side of his face.

The whimper of his voice was pathetic. Truly. “Bug?” 

Fucking loser.

“Peter?” A middle-aged woman’s voice shattered his hopes.

Confused, he pulled the phone away to look at the screen: KIM MANNERS.

Fuck. Your mom had his number. He knew it was a risk, reaching out behind your back. She’d been calling him all week, adding steadily to the pressure of his upcoming proposal. No wonder she drove you crazy. She’s probably wanting details about when he was going to pop the question. 

Fuckkkk.

“Peter? Are you there?”

He put the phone back to his ear, and briefly considered throwing his phone off of the Empire State Building. 

With a flayed voice, he replied, “Hi, Mrs. Manners.”

“Peter? Where are you? What’s going on?” She sounded like a parrot. A parody of a typical New England voice. “What happened?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckidity—

“Sorry, Mrs. Manners, I-I was gonna call—”

“Peter,” your mother interrupted with a sultry tone. If he wasn’t such an idiot he’d recognize the cougar purr of her voice, “you know I told you to call me Kim.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head pounding. Not just from the alcohol. “Ugh, yeah—” He tried not to make it sound like a gag reflex, but it crept out anyway. “Yeasshh, I, uh, sorry, I gotta little tied up—”

Ew! Gross, noo, fuckfuckfuck.

“Now’s not a good—”

“Is my daughter with you?” 

FAHHHHHK… She doesn’t know? Of course she wouldn't. She's not subscribed to the 'Watch Peter Parker Get Fucked Again This Week' Newslet—

Ahh! No! Gross! Ew! “Uhm… no, I—”

“Do you know where she is? She’s not answering her phone.” 

“I… I-I don’t think she wants to talk right now—”

“I think something weird is going on,” Kim blurted, still oblivious to the fact that Peter had spent the last few hours sobbing on roofs of several New York landmarks.

The concern in her voice pricked the skin on the back of his neck. He stiffened, his spinal column locking in place. Peter shook his head confusedly, “I’m… I’m not sure what you—”

“Peter, listen to me, I know my daughter. I think something is wrong.”

Peter felt faint all of a sudden. “Waddya mean? What’re ya—what’re you sayin’?”

“I think she’s in trouble,” she explained. “She left me a weird message. She can be so moody sometimes. She gets that from her father. I can sense these things, y’know. I’ve always told people I have a sixth sense about this stuff. You know, my grandmother said she could—”

His heart is pounding, threatening to break through his chest. “Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean ‘trouble?’ What message? What did she say exactly?”

Silence on the other end of the line. Peter felt like he was going to vomit.

“She said that she loved me, and she was sorry,” Kim finally said, with an exasperated tone. Equal parts embarrassment and concern. “And that she forgave me.” She said the last part with a growing sense of dread. 

“And she called me ‘Mom.’”

Peter’s mouth hung open, every cell in his body alerting him. Something was wrong. He pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing down. 

He also had a voicemail. From you.

This was the stupidest thing you’d ever done. But damn was it thrilling. You should’ve been a car thief in another life. 

“Hey, Peter,” your voicemail recorded a few minutes ago said, “I realize it’s probably hard to listen to this message, but it’s important that I say this, so I need you to listen...”

You’d hotwired the box truck carrying the weapon and detoured away from the tunnel. You stepped on the gas pedal, increasing speed steadily. 

Fifteen minutes before, you’d found Dr. Rivers. You told him urgently that his daughter was going to hurt herself, and that you would tell him when and where she could be found, and that information you were going to give freely, because it was the right thing to do. That despite his past absence, his daughter needed him more than ever. They both deserved a second chance. 

Everyone did. And that’s why you needed him to tell you how to destroy the weapon safely.

And he did. 

“I’m sorry that this is how things need to end. It’s not what either of us had planned, but life is like that. This isn’t your fault. You really need to know that. In fact, I have to thank you.” 

Now you were running. Driving a hot wired truck carrying one of the most powerful weapons ever created, stolen from the C.I.A. You pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. 

“You’ve taught me the meaning of life, how fragile and precious it is. How important. I want you to know that what you do matters. Even when it feels like it doesn’t.”

You glanced in the rear view mirror, seeing a flurry of red and blue light behind you. Sirens wailing. You smirk. You wonder if Officer Cage is among them.

You switched on the radio.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT…”

Your smile widens. You fucking love this song.

“You have no idea how many lives you touch. Including mine.” 

The pier is ahead of you. At the end of it, your watery grave. You were pleased as pie, knowing that at least you were taking this bitch down with you. 

You sang along, “Showed in your eyeeeeeeeeeeees—”

The pedal is on the floor. The truck launches off the end of the pier. Curves in an arch. Collides with the water. The windshield crumples in front of you as the frigid water pours in, surrounding you, submerging the truck, sinking the weapon. 

You feel so alive. Your heart is pounding. Your body is sizzling with energy, even as you’re dragged into the water. 

“Did you know that you have the prettiest fucking smile? I can wake up to that smile 10,000 times, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m so grateful for every second of it. Even the painful parts.” 

It’s getting dark. It was beautiful today. And now, darkness. Rising steadily. Coming up to cradle you in its arms as you sink further below. This is how it ends. You’re certain.

You look up out the window, enjoying the rays of sunlight poking down from the surface as they get further away. Your chest is burning, like a flaming sword through your heart. Lungs aching. Ribs threatening to implode. The pressure is unbearable. But you don’t mind. You’re used to the pain. 

It’s worth it. Just to say goodbye to the rays of sunlight. To thank them for keeping you warm. For rainbows. Sunsets. Sunflowers and pineapples. For lighting the eyes of the man you love, casting them in a golden hue. 

“Live your life. Be better than you were yesterday. And don’t be too hard on yourself, because you can be better tomorrow. Do good things.” 

Speak of the devil. A figure torpedos through the surf, descending lower. You see him in the murky haze of the water, the familiar red and blue catching your eye. 

Peter’s eyes widen as he recognizes you in the passenger seat. His mask is off. You smile at him. You wave, as water shoves itself down your throat. 

“And don’t worry about me. I think everything is gonna work out.” 

It’s time to go home, you think. Safe and warm. Where your ancestors await you. You’ll see Nana Manners there. You’ll see your old cats there. Your grandparents. Your parents. Maybe you’ll finally get to meet Gwen. Meet Uncle Ben.

Peter will be there too, one day. You’re certain.

“One way or another... I’ll see you later.”

Peter swims up to the window. He’s scared, but he needn’t be. You can still move your arms, even though they’ve gone heavy. You place your hand on the glass.

“Goodbye, for now. I love you. Forever.”

There’s a message written on your palm. You hope he can read it. Hope he sees it. Takes it to heart. Holds it there. Believes in it as you believed in each other. Forever.

Three simple words.

'SEIZE THE DAY'

The light fades from your eyes. 

This is how it ends.

Or so you’d thought.

Round, mellow notes fill the air. Clean, thick strings, weaving together. Vibrating with warmth. Delicately rising, like steam from a hot spring.

Over the hum of a vintage, six-string, acoustic guitar, peppered with banjo plucks, and the crisp ring of a distant electric hardbody, the gentle crooning of John Denver filled your ears.

“He was born in the summer of his 27th year

Coming home to a place he'd never been before

He left yesterday behind him, 

You might say he was born again

You might say he found a key for every door...”

Your eyelids creaked open, as dim lights swam in your vision. Your eyelashes fluttered. The ceiling foreign. The room cast in shadow. A machine steadily beeps, off-tempo from the music. Your eyelids are heavy. 

Why?

“...When he first came to the mountains his life was far away

On the road and hanging by a song...”

You drew back the curtains of your gaze again, going crosseyed for a moment as they attempted to adjust to the light. You focused on a single, blurry shape, willing it to be still and come into focus. 

You squinted, your head aching. Your chest felt sore. Like you’d worn a vise as a bra. Or spent a day as a shake-weight in a gym for giants.

Your vision sharpened. It’s Peter’s eyes—doe-like, dreamy, warm, and so, so tired—that pulls you from your slumber.

He’s so pretty, you thought, and your lip stung from the grin that stretched your face. He sat in a chair at your bedside, dressed in wrinkled clothes that were a little too worn to be clean.

You blinked a few times and really took in the sight of him. 

Dark circles colored heavy bags under his eyes. He’s even more pale than usual, you noted. His skin looked dry, like all of the moisture had been squeezed from his body. Through his bleary eyes, you assumed, observing how bloodshot they were. 

Peter was worse for wear. 

But he was so damn pretty. 

Your heart ached at the sight of him. And seeing your eyes illuminate had a similar effect on his. Despite looking utterly exhausted, like he’d been awake for a few millenia, his cheeks pinched up and he could no longer hide his teeth behind his lips.

He smirked at you, then glowed as he drank you in.

Despite this, there was a melancholy in his red-rimmed eyes.

You gazed around at your surroundings. A darkened hospital room. You were in a hospital bed. 

You remembered where you’d been and realized you weren’t where you were—the jarring discrepancy confusing and overwhelming you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shh, you’re okay,” Peter whispered, leaning forward out of the chair. Instinctively, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair from your face. He shifted his body closer to you, scooting in the chair, like he was magnetically charged to gravitate to you. 

“You’re okay,” he cooed. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe. You’re... you’re gonna be okay.”

You were dead, you recall. 

You were sinking, lungs filled with water, brain shutting down.

You glanced over to see an outdated clock radio plugged in on a table nearby, this one with a 30-pin dock meant for a first-generation iPod. You gaze at the retro white device, recognizing the music.

“...But the string’s already broken and he doesn’t really care

It keeps changing fast and it don't last for long...”

You blinked. Your jaw hung open. Tears pricked your eyes. 

“This song,” you breathed, and probably sounded crazy. You felt giddy. You felt like laughing and crying and screaming at the top of your lungs. “It’s... it’s not Asia...”

“Uhm, no,” Peter replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s John Denver. Sorry. It’s lame. I, uh, I didn’t get a chance to make a playlist, or anything—”

He swallowed hard, his shoulders tense. He looked away from you—to the wall, to the floor, to the space on the pillow next to your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. It looked painful, like a rock is lodged in there.

“Wha-what day is it?” you stuttered, gazing up at him. You’re still trying to decide if you’re dreaming. If this is Heaven.

Peter’s brow quirks suspiciously. “Wednesday,” he replied, and you take pity on the exhaustion in his voice. “You’ve been out for almost 20 hours—”

You laughed. “It’s Wednesday?”

He stared at you, his concern growing. “Y-yeah...?”

You giggled uselessly, relishing in the sensation of hot tears streaking your cheeks. “It’s Wednesday!” Your chuckling grew louder, until your throat trips and you cough. Your lungs feel like paper mache.

“Easy, take it easy,” Peter softly admonished you, as he brushed his hands over your face possessively. He didn’t take them off this time. You don’t want him to. “You need to rest,” he replied. “You... got banged up... pretty bad...”

You gazed at the redness of his eyes, and realized what must have happened. You’re stricken with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” you muttered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

He shook head, refusing to make eye contact. “S’okay. You’re okay.”

“No, no—”

“You’re alive,” he bit off, a little more firm than he needed to be. “You’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters.” 

His thumbs rubbed circles into your jaw. You sensed that he was at war with himself, debating between pulling away from you and stapling himself to you. His fingers gripped you with a compulsive anxiety. A phobia that he would be forced to let you go, and this time, lose you forever.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.” You looked up at him like you were staring through pearly gates. Like you could see souls being formed with the stars. “I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean any of it—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated, but the tears welling in his eyes told you the opposite. “None of that matters,” he stammered, still unable to look at you. 

He felt so far away. You needed him closer. You needed to be wrapped around him, smothering him like a koala. 

You giggled and pulled at his arms, squirming in the hospital bed. The movement made you wince. You felt your pulse in your head. 

“Just relax,” he fretted, pinning your shoulders down gently. The weight of his palms felt divine. “You gotta rest, Bug. Doctor’s orders.”

He pinched his face, like he’d bit his tongue. That caught your attention. You stared up at him, noting the discomfort he was failing to hide from you. He hadn’t looked at you yet.

“Bug, listen. There’s—” He winced again. “You were out a while. The-the doctors, they ran some tests, and... um, they... Somethin’ came up on the MRI.”

You study the brown of his eyes. It reminds you of whiskey. Of chocolate. Of mahogany. 

He struggled to speak, failing to keep his voice calm. “They, um... They s-said there was, uh, a-a shadow of some kind. On your brain.”

You curved your eyebrow as you focused on his mouth. Simultaneously listening to the words on his lips, and watching how his lower lip quivered. You wanted to kiss it. To steady it with your own. Your fingers ached to pull him in.

You must have been squirming again, because before you knew it, Peter grasped your hands up in his, holding them tightly to his chest. He hovered over you, practically whispering in your ear.

“You were already under,” he quickly explained, the rest of the words tumbling out at once. “The-they did a biopsy. Just a little cut, and-and they said they were going to send the tissue off for a-a lab test. And... and when it comes back, we’ll know more about it, but... but the doctor said, he said it was good, whatever it is. Good that we caught it early. He said—” 

Peter’s voice broke, and then his eyes met yours. They welled up with tears. He looked deeply shaken, pulled taut. Like his limbs were made of matchsticks and he would crumble or go up in flames at any moment. 

He looked so afraid. 

He looks as scared as you should be. Your brain moves like molasses to catch up with the fact that it nearly caused your ultimate demise. 

Your mind spun with what-ifs and destiny and alternate universes and higher purpose and you have to stay focused on the chocolate of his eyes because that’s the only thing that mattered to you. 

Peter swallowed hard, digging out his voice. “They said that you coulda had an aneurysm any day now. Like, you’re there one minute and just... you’d be gone.”

You gazed up at him, spotting the tremor in his chin again. He bit down, to keep it steady. You wanted to pepper his chin in kisses for the next 100 years, or 100 minutes, or 100 seconds. Whatever you could get.

“I, uhm,” he struggled to continue. “I don’t know what I woulda done if... you... if you’d...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t, you realized. 

“Pete,” you softly replied. 

He looked up at you, and he’s so beautiful, it hurts. 

You gazed lovingly at him and showered him with adoration. Looking at you is too much for him. 

His brow creased with sorrow as he buried his face in your joined hands. Shoulders shaking. You felt him sob into your skin, tears soaking your hospital gown. 

“It’s okay,” Peter said with a sniffle, for both of you. He pulled himself upright. He was trying so hard to stay strong. “S’gonna be okay. You’re going to be okay. I-I promise, whatever happens. I’m not gonna leave your side. We face it together. I don’t care if I’m not with you, or we’re not together anymore. It’s—-this isn’t about me. I’m there for you. ‘Til the end, okay? I swear to you. It’s going to be okay.”

You watch him like you’re watching a sunrise. Like a rainbow is forming behind him. Sunlight piercing heavy rain clouds. You’re in exactly the right place. Exactly the right moment.

Time is meaningless. Time is priceless. Time is everything.

You cried happy tears. “I know.” 

If he asked you to marry him right now, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. 

You couldn’t help yourself—you ran your fingers through his hair. Across his chin. You wanted to map every freckle with your fingertips. Draw invisible lines in his skin. “I know it will, baby, I know. I believe you.”

His expression softened at your smile. He let himself get lost in it. Letting waves of hope crash over him and pull him along with the tide. His lips curved gently, and he returned it. The muscles in his body relaxed slightly.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you promise him, with no real way of knowing.

No way of predicting the future. 

And yet, no doubt. 

“Because today is Wednesday,” you explain, heart floating in your chest, swelling with gratitude. “And we have today.”

The End.

A/N: Thank you for riding with me for this story. I hope that it brings you peace and healing and happiness.

Take care of yourselves!

Did you like this story? Please share your thoughts with me via comment, ask, or reblog! Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting fandom and fandom writers!

[wishthefish]

Did Nie Mingjue abuse Jin Guangyao?

I've witnessed quite some disagreement amongst the mdzs fandom regarding Nie Mingjue's treatment of Jin Guangyao. Such great curiosity plagued me that I decided to kill the cat and examine whether this truly did occur. I will examine inequality, discrimination, abuse and victim-blaming attitudes within this analysis so please don't read on if any of this may upset you.

Abuse: Purposeful violence resulting in, or with the intention of causing physical harm, suffering and/or injuries.

After the cultivation clans gather to discuss Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing's branch of the Wens as a threat, Nie Mingjue expresses disapproval towards Jin Guangyao;

Nie MingJue walked over, "All clever talk - hard work indeed." Hearing this, Lan XiChen smiled but said nothing. Jin Guangyao knew that Nie MingJue would teach him a lesson whenever he found the chance" -Chapter 73

His clear disapproval of Jin Guangyao is rather interesting for he doesn't offer such judgement to the cultivators who used Luo Qingyang's gender as reason enough to ridicule her defence of Wei Wuxian. The Wens are evil, therefore any force that opposes them must be good in Nie Mingjue's view. So, when misogynistic attitudes are weaponized against Luo Qingyang, he says absolutely nothing because such discrimination supports their claim that the Wens must be eradicated. He has no objection to this underhanded technique yet disagrees with Jin Guangyao's lie about not remembering what Wei Wuxian said.

But, even then, he doesn't object to his lie during the discussion. He cares little for politics (eg. throwing Jin Guangyao down a staircase before several witnesses) so his refusal to openly criticize Jin Guangyao isn't because it was a politically astute decision but because his lie supported Nie Mingjue's argument that the Wens (and therefore Wei Wuxian) must be annihilated.

He isn't angry about the deceit itself but rather that Jin Guangyao lied. His anger isn't justice but rather distrust of Jin Guangyao. With this, I refute any claims that his aggression towards Jin Gaungyao is somehow justified. Also, the notion that somehow such aggression can be justified is a perversion of reality and is just very weird.

Jin Guangyao is also in great danger whenever Nie Mingjue abuses him. Nie Mingjue's murder attempts are almost always preceded by bouts of violence. Let's use the time he threw Jin Guangyao down Carp Tower as an example:

He raised his foot. Yet Jin GuangYao neither avoided nor took defence. The kick landed right on him, and again he rolled like a pebble down Carp Tower -Chapter 49

Nie Mingjue kicks Jin Gaungyao down Carp Tower even whilst knowing the unfortunate circumstance that was Meng Yao's first meeting with Jin Guangshan. A very clear parallel between Nie Mingjue and Jin Gaungshan is established within this scene. Just as Jin Guangshan could refuse to harm one of his bastards because he was a powerful man, Nie Mingjue can abuse Jin Gaungyao because he too, is a very powerful man.

This parallel demonstrates Nie Mingjue's supposed 'righteousness' isn't fuelling his hatred of Jin Gaungyao but rather his very personal feelings towards him. he views Jin Gaungyao's deceit as a slight against him. He takes offence when Meng Yao doesn't fully match up to his perspective of him. He can justify viewing Jin Guangyao as manipulative and sly because Jin Gaungyao doesn't adhere to his views. He is angered precisely because he can't understand him. Meng Yao hurt him, so Nie Mingjue feels justified in hurting him back. Physically.

It's horrifically petty because they are not equals. They never have been! Meng Yao is first his subordinate. He doesn't reconcile with their new relationship as sworn brothers, going as far as to continue calling Jin Guangyao "Meng Yao". Perhaps Nie Mingjue still sees Jin Gaungyao as his inferior and Therefore feels entitled to harm because of a personal grievance with him. Who would dare oppose the righteous Chifeng-Zun for putting a prostitute's son in his place?

Nie Mingjue always believes his violence is justified. After burning Nie Huaisang's belongings he says:

“The both of you should be tied up and beaten once every day”

Although it appears to simply be a threat, the phrase takes a dark turn when considering burning Nie Huaisang's belongings was initially just a threat too. It isn't unreasonable to assume (had Nie Mingjue lived long enough) that he would have truly beaten both his brothers.

Nie Mingjue does not regret causing Nie Huaisang great anguish, proving he believes his aggression to be justified. It isn't just Jin Guangyao who was left liable, but also Nie Huaisang who hasn't committed any significant atrocities as Nie Mingjue believes Jin Gaungyao to have done. 

The Villanous Friends Extra continues to supply us with information;

...he saw a small area of purple at Jin GuangYao's forehead that wasn't hidden properly. He laughed, "Where did that come from?"..."Nie MingJue did it?"

Jin GuangYao, "If he were the one who did it, do you think I could still be standing here and talking to you?" 

Although Jin Guangyao claims Nie Mingjue was not the perpetrator of his injury, it is worth noting Xue Yang's initial assumption was that Nie Mingjue harmed him. His aggression is common enough knowledge that even Xue Yang whose interests lie wholly in revenge and demonic cultivation knows of it.

Yet again are the power discrepancies between Jin Gaungyao and Nie Mingjue highlighted for nobody appears to care enough to attempt to protect Jin Guangyao from further harm. Nie Mingjue is allowed to abuse Jin Gaungyao without interference.

Moreover, Jin Gaungyaos' relationship with Jin Guangshan is infamous - just look at his courtesy name! Madam Jin is infamous for disliking Jin Gaungayo, especially after she publicly admonishes him. Lan Xichen too discusses his relationship with his parents;

Lan XiChen "His mother never liked him to begin with. After ZiXuan-Xiong passed away, she often hit him and scolded him. These days, his father also refuses to listen to him" -Chapter 49

Instead of assuming his parents harmed him, Xue Yang assumes Nie Mingjue is the culprit suggesting such abuse is widely known and accepted by society. 

Jin Guangyao also asks:

"If he were the one who did it, do you think I could still be standing here and talking to you?"

Suggesting that a) Nie Mingjue's aggression is so damaging that it takes days for recovery or b) there's a high chance of his death whenever Nie Mingjue is angry. Most instances of abuse occur before Nie Mingjue attempts to kill him, so I believe B to be the most reasonable answer.

Here's another quote I found that supports my argument.Not cool Da-ge, not cool:

Lan XiChen's face disclosed his worry, but Jin GaungYao stopped him, then followed Nie MingJue out of the Blooming Garden. As soon as they approached the edge of Carp Tower, Nie MingJue bought his palm down on him

To conclude, Jin Guangyao is often victimized by Nie Mingjue on the basis of a perceived slight or hatred. Although Nie Mingjue uses justice to legitimise his aggression, his distorted perception of reality ignores the power inequities that pervade society. So yes, I do believe he abused Jin Guangyao.

[imu-chan]

My MDZS found family au, part one: Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning.

Firstly I love the idea that Wen Qing didn’t die when the remnants of the wen clan turned themselves in. We see (in Untamed) the bodies of the other members on display, but we don’t ever see WQ or WN — later it’s revealed that WN was still alive (undead? Whatever) so the scene where their ashes were supposedly scattered is fake. Who’s to say someone didn’t keep WQ alive?

Think of it: Jiang Wanyin is at Carp Tower, visiting Jin Ling. He’s heartbroken about WQ returning the comb. He’s angry at WN for Jin Zixuan’s death. And then, the remnants of the Wen clan show up and deliver themselves to Jin Guangshan to make up for Zixuan’s death. And there, at the front, are WQ and WN.

When Wanyin approaches Jin Guangshan and asks for custody of WQ and WN. This is not unreasonable. His parents and clan were murdered by the Wens. His sister’s husband was just killed by WN. Surely he wants the personal satisfaction of revenge. Thus, though JGS probably keeps WN (following his canon storyline), he allows WQ to be given over to Jiang Wanyin. She is presumed dead or enslaved, and is not seen for many years.

The notorious JGS assaulted WQ in some way, so when the door to her cell opens, she curls into herself further and doesn’t even lift her head. When she hears a quiet, ‘Qing-er?’, she freezes, her eyes locking on Jiang Wanyin, Clan Leader Jiang, Jiang Cheng, who in her mind she has betrayed in so many ways.

He doesn’t say anything else, grabs her arm and pulls her behind him. He takes her to his carriage, where they enter to begin the journey to Yunmeng. Yanli and Jin Ling come with them, so Yanli can place a memorial tablet for Jin Zixuan in the memorial hall. WQ doesn’t dare speak too loudly, lest they hear her. JWY describes what happened, why she’s here. She’s devastated about her brother, but has the small comfort of knowing he can’t be killed.

Jiang Wanyin makes an offer. If she wants, he will pay for her to travel far away, to start a new life. Or, if she wants to stay, he will marry her and keep her safe from any retaliation. She can’t bring herself to speak. She moves to his side of the carriage, loops their arms, and rests her head on his shoulder to sleep. She has answered.

Jiang Wanyin has to tell his sister. He does. She is ever generous, ever loving. Yanli goes to WQ, welcomes her, forgives everything. She has always wanted a sister.

For a few years after the deaths of Yanli and Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing lives in general peace. She dresses in purple. She takes a courtesy name to hide her identity. She tried not to think about her brother, in chains, Yanli, reunited with her dead husband, Wei Wuxian, A-Yuan, all she has lost.

She has a child. Jiang Wanyin is overjoyed. She has another child. Jiang Wanyin weeps. She grows weak. She gains strength. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji eventually visit. It is strained, but it is something. Lan Yuan comes as well. Wen Qing weeps and gives Wangji her blessing to keep raising him. And then. Rumors spark. Suspicion about her identity churns throughout the cultivation world. Su She recognizes her. One day, out of the blue, a hidden sniper shoots a poisoned arrow from the forest. She has the antidote; but she lost too much blood.

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Chapter 9 Recap: Guangrui, going to his post, meets disaster; Monk River Float, avenging his parents, repays his roots

Before the Bodhisattva Guanyin and Moksa come to the city of Chang’an, we are told that the emperor Taizong of the Great Tang dynasty had been ruling for thirteen years and that the whole land was at peace. Because of this, his prime minister Wei Zhen recommends that the emperor holds civil examinations “so that we may invite worthy scholars to come here and select those talents who will best serve the work of administration and government.” Taizong agrees, and issues a summons for those who could, regardless of rank, potentially pass the exams.

Eventually the summons reach the ears of a man named Chen E—courtesy name Guangrui—who tells his mother (maiden name of Zhang) that he wishes to try. His mother gives him her blessings, and Guangrui not only manages to travel to Chang’an in time for the examination but takes first place in all three sessions on administrative policy. This gains him the title “zhuangyuan” and a celebratory procession in which he is led through the streets on horseback for three days. It is during this public celebration that the chief minister Yin Kaishan’s daughter Wenjiao (nicknamed Mantangjiao i.e. “A Hall of Loveliness, also known as Lady Yin) sees Chen Guangrui passing below. Knowing that he possesses an “outstanding appearance” and that he was the recent zhuangyuan of the examinations, Wenjiao takes the opportunity to throw down an embroidered ball which is used to select a spouse and manages to hit Chen Guangrui. Immediately, musicians, maids, and serving girls run down from the chief minister’s tower and lead Guangrui inside to hold a wedding between him and Wenjiao with the chief minister and his wife presiding. Everyone feasts merrily for a whole evening, after which the new husband and wife “walked hand in hand into the bridal chamber.”

The next morning, Emperor Taizong makes Guangrui the governor of Jiangzhou and orders him to leave for his new post without delay, which he does so in the company of his wife. On the way over, Guangrui pays a visit to his mother Lady Zhang and the happy family—Guangrui, Wenjiao, and Lady Zhang—decide to head to Jiangzhou together. Yet they had been on the road for but a few days before Lady Zhang falls ill and asks to stay at the Inn of Ten Thousand Flowers for a few days. Guangrui obeys, a decision that gives him an opportunity to buy a golden carp for his mother’s dinner before realizing that the fish, as it was “blinking its eyes vigorously,” is no ordinary creature. He lets it go back in the Hong river where it was caught, an act, as “It is a good deed to release living creatures from captivity,” that greatly pleases Lady Zhang. Yet as the “imperial command is an urgent one,” Guangrui decides that he must leave tomorrow in spite of Lady Zhang’s ongoing illness. Husband and wife agree to give her some funds and to rent her a house to stay in during spring and summer, and that they would return for Lady Zhang in the autumn when it’s cooler and she could travel more comfortably.

After making their leave, Guangrui and Wenjiao soon reach the crossing of the Hong River, where two boatmen, Liu Hong and Li Biao, give them a lift. Yet as it happened “that Guangrui was destined in his previous incarnations to meet this calamity,” Liu Hong, noticing the beauty of Lady Yin and being stirred “at once to cruelty,” forms an evil scheme with Li Biao. They punt the boat to an isolated area and wait until midnight, upon which they kill the couple’s servant and beat Guangrui to death before pushing both bodies into the water. Lady Yin tries to escape, but is caught by Liu Hong. She’s threatened with death unless she "submits" to him and, unable to think of a better plan, she agrees. Liu Hong then turns the boat over to Li Biao, while he himself “put on Guangrui’s cap and robe, took his credentials, and proceeded with the lady to the post at Jiangzhou.”

As for the real Chen Guangrui, his body sinks to the bottom of the Hong River. A yaksa on patrol reports this to the Dragon King, who has the body brought to him. Recognizing Guangrui as the man who saved his life when the dragon was in the form of a golden carp, the Dragon King manages to get the man’s soul into his possession as well as prevents the body from deteriorating by putting a preservative pearl in his mouth. Yet body and soul are not yet reunited, and the Dragon King has Guangrui enter his Water Bureau as an officer.

Lady Yin, for her own part, despises the bandit Liu so much “that she wished she could devour his flesh and sleep on the skin.” Yet as she’s pregnant she has no choice but to obey his demands. Liu Hong also manages to fool all the officials and seamlessly enters Guangrui’s place as the governor of Jiangzhou. Him having to leave on official business, however, means that Lady Yin is alone when she falls unconscious and gives birth to a son. While she’s insensate, she’s further visited by the Star Spirit of the South Pole which tells her as a disembodied voice that her son was sent “by the express command of the Bodhisattva Guanyin,” and that “one day his name will be known far and wide.” Yet the bandit Liu is sure to try and hurt her child, and so she must do what she can to protect him. Lady Yin is also told that her husband was rescued by the Dragon King, and that in the future their family will surely be reunited. Waking up, Lady Yin is desperate to save her son but can think of no plan to do so. She is, however, able to convince a returned Liu Hong to not immediately drown her son in the river.

Liu Hong is called away by urgent business the next morning, but Lady Yin knows her son is doomed if he’s still there by the time the bandit returns. As such, she decides to “abandon him now to the river, and let life or death take its own course” but in the hopes that Heaven might take pity on her child and let him be rescued and raised by someone. Fearing that she wouldn’t be able to recognize her son if he does survive and they manage to reunite, Lady Yin bites her finger and writes a letter in her blood detailing her family history and the reason she abandoned her son. She also bites off his little toe “to establish a mark of his identity.” Wrapping her son in one of her own inner garments, Lady Yin takes him to the river and, bursting into tears, ties him to a floating plank and lets him drift away.

The current carries the baby along until it comes to a standstill beneath the Buddhist Temple of Gold Mountain. The abbot of this temple, Monk Faming, soon discovers the wailing infant and, after reading the letter written in blood and learning of the child’s origin, gives him the name River Float. Abbot Faming also arranges for someone to nurse and care for the child while he himself keeps the letter hidden safely away. Time passes swiftly, and upon reaching his eighteenth year River Float’s head is shaved and he's asked to join the monastery as a monk. River Float agrees and is given the religious name Xuanzang. He proceeds to pursue the Way “with great determination.”

One day in late spring, a “feckless monk,” having been “completely outwitted by Xuanzang’s questions” about the fine points of their religion, calls him a “damnable beast” who is “ignorant of your own parents.” This rebuke drives Xuanzang to tears and before his shifu, where he begs Abbot Faming to tell him his parents’ names. The abbot finally shows Xuanzang the letter and the inner garment he was wrapped in as an infant. This compels Xuanzang to fall weeping to the floor and makes him determined to seek his mother. Abbot Faming encourages Xuanzang to take the letter and the inner garment and to travel as a mendicant monk to the private quarters at the governor’s mansion of Jiangzhou, where he could meet his mother. Following his shifu’s advice, Xuanzang makes his way to Jiangzhou and, begging for alms at the governor’s mansion, is invited inside by his mother for a vegetarian meal. Lady Yin notices that Xuanzang bears “a remarkable resemblance to her husband” and, asking the monk to tell of his origins, soon learns that he is indeed her child. Mother and son embrace and weep.

Immediately afterwards, Wenjiao tells Xuanzang to leave in fear that the bandit will kill him, but they conspire to meet again. Telling her “husband” that she had made a vow to donate one hundred monk shoes to one of the Buddhist monasteries, Lady Yin is able to visit the Temple of the Gold Mountain. There, she’s able to see Xuanzang is indeed missing his little toe, and, after embracing her son again, she gifts him an incense ring. She further tells him to go to Hongzhou so that he might find his grandmother Lady Zhang. She also gives him a letter to take to her father Chief Minister Yin so that he might get the Tang emperor “to dispatch men and horses to have this bandit arrested and executed, so that your father may be avenged. Only then will you be able to rescue your old mother.” She leaves soon after, fearing the bandit’s wrath if she returns late.

Weeping, Xuanzang returns to the temple, tells his shifu everything, and leaves immediately for Hongzhou. There he finds out that not only had his grandmother gone blind but that she’s been living in a dilapidated potter’s kiln and surviving through begging. Xuanzang finds and relates everything to Lady Zhang, who is left weeping not only at her son’s fate but from having finally learned the truth after living for so long thinking her son had abandoned her. Xuanzang then cures his grandmother of her blindness with a prayer and by licking her eyes. He further rents her a room at an inn and leaves her some money, promising to return in a little more than a month’s time.

Leaving his grandmother and going straight to Chang’an, Xuanzang makes his way to chief minister Yin’s house where, after being invited inside, he falls weeping to the floor before handing over his mother’s letter. Chief Minister Yin and his wife join him in weeping when they learn of their daughter’s life. Chief Minister Yin brings this case before the Tang emperor, who becomes “exceedingly angry” at learning of this evil and “immediately called up sixty thousand imperial soldiers and ordered the chief minister Yin to lead them forth.” Soon reaching Jiangzhou, this force quickly overwhelms Liu Hong and takes him prisoner. Lady Yin is overcome with shame seeing her father again to the point where she wanted to hang herself, but Xuanzang rushes in and manages to save his mother, crying “If mother were dead, how could your son possibly remain alive?” Chief Minister Yin further reassures her that there’s nothing to feel ashamed for, as she was forced by the bandit to submit. Son, mother, and grandfather then go to the execution ground, and watch as both Liu Hong and a newly captured Li Biao suffer gruesome executions. This ends with Liu Hong’s heart and liver, which had “been gouged out from him live,” being offered as libations at the bank of the river. As essay eulogizing Guangrui is also burned.

Alerted by their sobs, a yaksa brings the essay in its spirit form to the Dragon King. After reading it, the Dragon King summons Guangrui and, congratulating him, lets him return to life and gives him many treasures. And this was just in time, as after this libations Lady Yin tries to kill herself through drowning and is only prevented from doing so by Xuanzang clinging to her desperately. The two are “struggling pitifully” when they see Guangrui’s dead body floating toward the river bank. Seeing who it is brings Lady Yin to further tears before the body comes back to life. And so the family is reunited and then further reunited when Guangrui meets his mother once again and the group travels back to the chief minister’s residence in Chang’an to see Chief Minister Yin’s wife.

The next morning Chief Minister gives his report on these events to the Tang emperor. Chen E is promoted to Subchancellor of the Grand Secretariat and Xuanzang is sent to practice austerities at the Temple of Infinite Blessing. As for Lady Yin, some time after this she commits suicide after all. Xuanzang then goes back to the Gold Mountain Temple to “repay the kindness of abbot Faming.”

We’ll have to wait for the next chapter to learn what happened next.

[miixz]

I've seen some takes again about JGY only knowing about wangxian, and most specifically LWJ's feelings because LXC told him and I wanted to explore this idea a little.

I think its unlikely that LXC would have, he's shown to pick LWJ over JGY easily, and LWJ never suspects him or turns toward him with anger about it, besides the particular situation in which he figured this out was not one that would have been shared outside of the clan.

But could JGY reasonably figure it out without being told? I think so.

We don't know when he found out, but even if all he has to go with are the present events, its still reasonable that he'd know. From the moment LWJ meets WWX again there are suspicions of who he is (mostly from JC but still) and he still stands by his side. Throughout their time traveling together he they don't make secret of their flirting, and JGY would have had good reason to pay attention to their movements since they were in search of NMJs body parts.

There's also Jin Lng who does see him during the plot and is along with the juniors in witnessing wangxian flirting and being really close. Su She even could have told JGY some things.

Besides, the two of them go to golden carp tower/jinlintai together, they flirt kinda right in front of JGYs salad, WWX declares to have moved on to love LWJ and all that. It's really not a hidden relationship, not something they cared to keep from him.

And LWJ most of all gives himself away by running with WWX when he's stabbed.

Previously to this, all those years back, LWJ spoke in favor of WWX more than once where JGY would have seen it, he wasn't part of the siege either, and given their travels together now its reasonable that JGY would have guessed that he's on his side at least as a friend.

Except, well, the flirting, the LWJ standing by WWX's side and running away with him, a number of other cues he could have gathered through dinner and the time they spent in front of him.

JGY is smart, and LWJ's feelings aren't being kept a secret any longer, nor are WWX's, he really could have figured it out on his own, especially when nobody was trying to stop him.

[lunamadhatter99]

Panic

Part 9

So.. in this one made a little change in the story, for obvious reasons, basically Heather never hooked up with Ray, but with Tyler... since Ray is this series is interested in Y/n. It's a minor change, but just so you know🤷🏻‍♀️

As always let me know what you think and my requests are still open🤘

Chapter summary: I think you know what happens in this one😇 and also Carp's annual Derby.

Chapter warnings: smut, unprotected sex (use protection loves) Dodge.. just Dodge.

Tag list: @shenevertricks1831 @mixed-theater-faisty-tings @stuckinthesmalldoor @girlygirl-20 @jillo0315 @one-edgy-bitch

He arrives quickly than expected, so as soon as he knocks I let him in, offering something to drink.

"Water is fine" he offers me a kind smile.

"Water it is" I say going to the kitchen, him following me, I grab a glass and pour some water and some ice cubes too.

"Thanks" he says taking a sip.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Actually no" he answers, catching me off guard "nothing is okay."

"What.. what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer right away, he simply stay there, jaw clenching and a serious expression on his face. Thinking.

"Dodge...?"

"I can't stop thinking about you. I really can't. I can't help but imagine how it would feel to have you in my arms, to kiss you...to taste you" with each word he gets closer and I back away, until I can't anymore because the kitchen counter stops me.

He puts the glass of water on the counter, resting his hand there towering over me now that he's right in front of me.

"I..." I look everywhere but him.

He put his other hand on the counter behind me, caging me there.

"I.." he sighs "it's driving me crazy."

He lets out a small chuckle.

"I.. Dodge, I don't.. I don't know what to say" I say.

"Tell me you don't want this and I promise you.. I promise I'll stop and everything will be back at normal." He almost beg.

I finally look at him, his eyes are fixed on me, filled with love and need.

"I.. do.. I want this" I finally say, admitting it to myself first of all.

He leans down, slowly, almost to test me and see if I'm sure.

Before his lips could touch mine, my phone rings, distracting us both.

"If you dare answer... I swear.." I almost growls.

I smile at that and lean towards him to finally kiss him.

As soon as our lips touch his hands are on me, one on my face and one on my neck to keep me there, the phone soon forgotten.

I put my hands on his chest grabbing his shirt, simply enjoying the feeling of him on me. His tongue exploring my mouth while one hand falls to my hip keeping me closer to him, almost grinding on me. This makes me let out a small moan in his mouth making him smile as we keep kissing.

He then pulls away, a sweet smirk on his face, resting his forehead on mine.

"Fucking finally" he says breathlessly.

"Indeed" I say laughing.

His hands on me keep caressing me, with sweetness and need.

"Where's your room?" He asks out of nowhere, an innocent expression on his face.

"Uh?"

In response he leans down to kiss my neck, biting and sucking on it and his hands grab my hips more firmly.

"Oh... oh! It's.. upstairs second door on..on the left" I tell him.

He looks at me and suddenly lift me up in his arms taking me upstairs, earning a loud gasp from me.

When we get to my room he, not very gently, closes the door and slams me against it.

"Tell me to stop and I will. Anytime" he promises.

I nod, out of breath.

"I need to hear you say it, princess" he says.

"Yes.. yes"

He wastes no time and attacks my neck again, hand roaming all over my body as if scared I would disappear.

When his hands are on my short he looks at me.

"Can I?" He asks with a teasing smile.

"Yes... fuck, stop teasing" I tell him.

"Oh... you wanna give me orders, princess? I've been waiting for so long I'm gonna enjoy each fucking second" he says while he pulls my shorts down kissing down my neck again.

"You're the worst" I tell him, my hands in his hair.

He just humms while his lips trails down to my chest, getting on his knees.

It's a sight that makes me wet, instantly.

He keeps kissing my body as he grab one leg to put it on his shoulder, kissing my inner thigh.

As he does that, he then looks up to me... shit.. the sight alone gets me soaking wet with arousal. 

"Still sure?" He asks.

"Yes!" I say exasperated.

He moves my panties to the side with a small chuckle.

"Oh look at this.. is it for me?" He asks mockingly.

I sigh, a mix of embarrassment and need.

"Answer me, princess"

His tone makes me clench around nothing, he notices and a big grin appears on his face.

"You like it when I call you princess then, uh?"

"Shut up" I say embarrassed.

"As you wish"

His mouth in between my legs in no time, eating me like a starved man, making me moan loudly. My hands reach down to his hair gently grabbing it.

One of his hand is on the leg on his shoulder, squeezing it while the other in under my top grabbing one of my boob.

His tongue on my clit feels amazing, it makes me moan louder and louder, my hands in his hair grab it harder making him groan on me.

"Fuck... don't.. don't stop.. please"

He remove his hand from my chest so he can use his fingers too.

"Oh.. I don't plan on stopping anytime soon" he says as he put one finger inside of me, his mouth back on sucking on my clit, harder than before earning a small scream from me.

He then interts another finger.. then another.

He fucks me with his fingers as he licks my pussy, getting me closer and closer to my release.

"Shit! I'm so close.. Dodge.."

He doubles his efforts, fucking me harder with his finger.

"Fuck!" I say as I cum on his mouth, my legs shaking threatening to give up and make me fall but Dodge's hold on me keeps me up.

He doesn't stop licking me though, the feeling is overwhelming, as I'm still sensitive from my orgasm.

"Dodge... Dodge.. stop, too much" I say letting out breathless chuckles.

Instead of stopping he sucks and licks harder on my clit.

"Dodge... oh shit"

He keeps going, he doesn't stop until I cum again harder than before, this time falling in front of him.

My hands go to his chest, shaking slightly. 

"Everything okay?" He asks, caressing my face.

I nod, smiling. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his tongue.

He pulls away helping me stand up and moving me to the bed.

I lay down and he climbs on top of me.

"You taste so.. so good, princess" he tells me, hand on my cheek.

"Don't call me 'princess' " I tell him, while I still try to catch my breath.

"Oh.. I thought you liked it. Your pussy sure did" he teases.

"I.."

He doesn't let me speak because his lips are on mine again.

I just tug at his shirt, silently asking him to take it off, and he soon complies. Soon taking off my shirt too.

As my shirt is out of the way his mouth is back on my chest licking my nipples and leaving marks on my chest.

My hands move to his hair again grabbing it hard.

"Mmh.. you're playing with fire, princess" he says, his hips grinding on me. I can feel his hard-on pretty clearly. 

"You feel what you do to me, uh? It's all you" he tells me, grabbing one of my hand to move it to his pants to make me feel his cock.

"Should I do something about it?" I ask him.

"Oh.. you're already doing it" with that he take off his pants and underwear.

My eyes wide at the sight of him.

"Like it?" He asks with a teasing tone.

I reach down to touch him but he stops me.

"Uh uh"

He climbs down to lick my pussy again, and then quickly he climbs back up to kiss me.

I feel his cock teasing ym entrance, I try to move my hips closer.

"Someone's eager, uh?" He asks.

"C'mon,  Dodge" I beg him.

"Ask nicely"

"Please.. please Dodge"

"You can do better than that, can't you?" He leans down to kiss my neck, finding my sweet spot and making me moan.

"Shit... Dodge please, please just fuck me, please"

Without saying a word he start to push his cock inside me, slowly so I can feel every inch of him and... he feels amazing. 

When he's completely inside of me he lets out a loud moan.

"Oh shit.. you feel even better than I imagined" he says as he starts to move in and out, getting faster and faster with each thrust.

"Fuck.. Dodge"

"Keep saying my name, princess, please" he asks.

Each moan is his name. A silent beg for him to not stop.

"You feel so good Dodge... fuck"

"I want to feel you cumming on my cock, I want to feel you squeezing me, Y/n." He tells me.

He knows I'm getting closer again, he knows and he thrusts into me harder and harder.

"Shit!" I moan.

"Oh yes, yes cum for me." He basically growls into my ear.

"Fuck.. I'm.. I'm.."

He pulls away to look at me.

"Look at me as you cum, let me see you" he orders.

I look at him and cum on his cock.

"Shit.. just like that, Y/n" he keeps fucking me helping me down my orgasm. 

I look into his eyes, seeing admiration, I gently grab his face pulling him closer to kiss him as he keeps fucking me reaching his own release.

"Mmh I'm close, princess.. can I cum on your stomach?"

"Oh you're asking now?" I mock him a little.

"Don't dare." He tells me, clearly holding back.

"Ask nicely" I smirk.

Dodge smirks too, a proud smirk on his face, giving me a quick kiss.

"Please, oh please princess, let me cum on you.. I'm so close.." he begs.

It makes me clench around him, he slows down a bit.

"Ooh you like hearing me beg uh?" He says, and he goes back at fucking me hard again. 

"Shit.."

"Can I?" He asks again.

"Yes! Fuck yes"

With that he pulls his cock out lining it up on my stomach and finally cumming on me with a loud groan.

He stays like for a moment, looking at me, this makes me blush so he leans down to kiss both my cheeks.

"Beautiful" he says.

He quickly goes find some washcloth to clean us and then he falls beside me, sighing content.

He put his arm around me, blanket on us covering our naked bodies.

"Too much?" He asks.

"Not at all" I turn around to look him, him already looking at me with a sweet smile. That smile that makes my legs weak usually.

"Can I ask you something?" He asks.

I nod, his hand is on my cheek caressing it sweetly.

"Why did you kiss Ray the first occasion and I had to wait this long?" He asks.

"I... because I don't feel anything.. for him" I answer.

"But every time we got interrupted you seemed relieved. And also when we could've had the chance you changed subject" he wonders.

"Because I'm scared. Or.. I was. I have strong feelings for you, Dodge. I had for a while now. I was scared you only saw me as.. as a hook up for the summer.. and I didn't want you to break my heart, or lose you" I explain. Telling him this feels much more easier than I expected.

"I had the same fear" he admits "I thought you noticed my feelings and you were just being nice, so I kept teasing you and flirting with you to... I don't know.. made sure of it, but at Graybill's House... you getting all red and embarrassed after I told what I might feel for you... what I feel for you, made me think. Maybe she does feel the same, I thought. At the hospital, your look... was worried but not just a worried friend. It doesn't make sense, I know. The point is... I couldn't wait any longer.. I had to see if I was just imagining things or not." He tells me.

"Exactly what I thought" I tell him with a small chuckle. 

"We're idiots"

"Diggins would agree, I'm sure" I tell him.

"That's why he was so pushy with the hot tub at the party" he realises.

"Yeah" I laugh, I get serious "I do like you, Dodge Mason"

"I do like you too, Y/n L/n"

He kisses me again, hand on my side caressing it..

Until...

"No!" I scream laughing. "Don't tickle me!"

"But you look so beautiful when I do"

We laugh as he keep tickling me and I keep moving away, or at least I try too.

I end up losing, even though I'm on top of him, but he has his arms around me caging my arms as well.

"I hate you" I tell him between laugher. 

"Oh, you wish" he tells me giving my nose a little peck.

He simply watches me for a moment with a sweet content smile.

"Round two?" He asks.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"If you can take it" I challenge him.

He raises both eyebrows in surprise and flip us over so he's on top of me.

"Let's see how cocky you'll be while begging for me to stop" he says that while climbing down, spreading my legs and positioning himself between my legs looking at my pussy.

"Or to keep going" he teases.

"Will I see you at the Derby tomorrow?" Dodge asks me as I walk him to the door, his hand holding mine.

"Of course" I nod.

"And... if I win?" He wonders.

"If you win.. what?" I ask innocently.

"Will I get a kiss?" He asks.

"Well... I  think the announcer would gladly give you a kiss too" I tease.

"I'm sure he's an amazing kisser" he jokes with me.

"Oh sure. Plus his voice is... relaxing" I tell him laughing. 

"Oh.. definitely" he chuckles. 

Now on my doorstep he looks down at me, with a stupid smile and without saying anything.

"What?" I ask him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you still don't know? How many times do I have to tell you that I fucking like you to make you understand?" He says smiling. 

"Maybe... some more? I have trouble understanding human language" I answer.

"Well then I won't use words anymore, how about this?" He leans down kissing me and I immediately kiss him back my hands on his neck and his on my waist.

He pulls away, looking me in the eyes.

"Was it more... easy to understand?" He asks.

"Mmh.. maybe some more and I'll start to get my head around it" I tell him with a smirk.

"I'd love your mouth around it, but I'll get what I can" he jokes.

I shove him away laughing. "You're the worst"

"Only with you" he winks and starts to walk backwards to his car. "I'll see you tomorrow, princess"

I roll my eyes.

"See you tomorrow, Mason" I wave at him smiling.

I wait for him to drive away before getting back inside. 

Oh god... I literally can't stop smiling.

I can't believe it.. Did it actually happen?

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone ringing again, so I pick it up.

Diggins.. why?

"Hey there" I greet him.

"Well hello! You're alive then" he says.

"Yeah.. I was.. busy"

"Busy... as in?" He asks curiously.

"Ehm... well.. busy"

"I can hear you smile from here... what happened?" He asks again. Excited.

"Dodge came over"

"Oh!! You did it? C'mon tell you guys freaking admit your feelings!"

"Yeah.. yeah. And not only that" I tell him still smiling like an idiot.

"That's my girl!" He exclaims proudly. "Oh.. well not my girl" he adds teasingly.

"Oh shut up. Did you need anything?" I ask him.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you if you'll be at the Derby and the fair tomorrow"

"Sure"

"With your boyfriend"

I can feel his smirk from here..

"I swear Diggins" I warn him, but my chuckle don't sound so threatening.

"I'm so happy for you. I mean it. If you're looking for yout babies names.. Diggins is a great chioce, good lineage" he offers.

"Oh my god!"

"I told you he felt the same!"

"Yeah fine! You were right! Happy?"

"Oh very. I'll let you enjoy your happiness now, see you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow"

He hangs up and I put my phone away.

I think about today, sitting on the couch finally relaxing.

Hopefully Panic won't get in the way.

I look at my reflection in the mirror and I notice some marks.. some hickeys Dodge left yesterday.

Fucking Dodge, I think chuckling.

I can't wear a scarf, it's way too hot to. Oh well... let the questions begin I guess. I have nothing to hide.

I hear my phone ringing so I pick it up to answer Natalie.

"Hey, we're almost at your house. Are you ready?"

"Yep, only waiting for my carriage"

"The carriage is on its way" she laughs.

"See you soon"

I hang up and go downstairs to wait for them.

In the meantime I receive a text.

Dodge.

"See you later, princess"

"See you later, Mason"

"Hope I didn't leave you too many marks ;)"

"Oh no no don't worry. All these marks are just the results of a fight against the goblins in my garder"

"Damn them :)"

"I'll get my revenge. Don't worry ;)"

"As you should. Later, Y/n <3 "

I put my phone in my pocket just in time to hear Natalie's car in front of my house.

"Welcome, guys and gals, to Carp's annual Metal Stampede demolition Derby" the announcer voice fills the air along with the  cheering, chatting and music.

I look for Dodge, but I can't see him yet so I just sit with Natalie and Heather on the benches, he's probably getting ready for the Derby.

"Are you gonna tell us about those or what?" Heather asks me, pointing at the hickeys on my neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about" I say taking a sip of my drink.

"She just doesn't kiss and tell.. or should I say, she doesn't ride and tell" Natalie teases, and I jokingly shove her.

"C'mon, you look happy, we want to know!" Heather insists, a genuine happy smile.

"Yesterday" I say, both girls watching me.

I take a fries from them and eat it.

"Don't you dare leave us hanging" Heather says.

"Fine, fine" I laugh. "Yesterday after I got home from Nat's house, I called him to ask him if he wanted to hang out, but he was already coming to my place. He arrived, we talked and.. yeah.. I think you can imagine what happened next. No riding though... yet"

"Told you... she thought about him that way" Natalie says to Heather, looking teasingly at me.

"Yes, fine, I'll say it. I like him, he's nice, smart and caring, funny too. I like him. Happy?"

"Finally!" Heather claps her hands.

The rally starts and the cheering gets louder along with cars roaming in front of us.

Dodge is car numer 12, I think, the yellow one.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Natalie asks.

"I think he's number 12" I tell her rolling my eyes.

"People say there's a challenge coming tonight" she tells us.

"It's like you said. The game always goes on" Heather answers. 

"Well, the game feels different, though. Doesn't it? It's not just cops. It's.." Nat starts.

"It's like it's not a game" Heather finishes for her. I nod at that.

"We can still be teammates, though, right?" Heather asks Natalie.

"Partners. Win or lose, it's together"

Fuck... how can Natalie play like this..

"Do you remember the, uh, list that I found at Spurlock's?" Heather says.

"What list?" I ask, taking my eyes off of the cars crashing into each other.

"After I got stuck underground, basically, I followed this, uhm.. tunnel or something that lead to a room where I found a list of names. Our names." She explains. 

"A list of the players? Why?" I'm confused. 

"Yeah, that's the thing, I don't think it's a list of the players, I think it a lists of odds" she tells us.

"What do you mean?" Natalie asks.

"Odds? Like... is someone betting on panic?" I ask.

"That's exactly what I think. Someone is betting. Someone who was there with us that night."

Who would bet on Panic.. but most importantly.. why.

Our thoughts are interrupted by the cars crashing and the announcer's voice.

"First casualty!"

"Number 14 almost got 12 there"

"Is Ray aiming at Dodge?" Heather asks, chuckling. 

"Would it surprise you?" I reply.

"C'mon... any prize if Dodge won?" Natalie teases.

"Oh my god" I laugh "I told him he could ask the announcer for a kiss too"

"You're too cruel with the guy" Natalie tells me.

"Oh well... he likes it. His problem" I say smirking.

"Ooh you heard her?" Heather laughs.

We keep watching the race until Heather speaks up again.

"Hey, Bishop's here" she nod towards the right where Bishop is sitting with Diggins, Troy and Drew.

"Can you just go tell him how you fell, please?" Natalie asks exasperated and Heather scoffs.  "Your sexual frustration have the world's worst taste"

"I thought we agreed that the Tyler thing never happened" Heather replies.

"Believe me, I wish I could forget"

"Wait.. what?" I asks shocked.

"Oh.. you didn't know? She hooked up with Tyler at Graybill's" Natalie explains while Heather rolls her eyes.

"Oh... tell me you didn't" I ask, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Yeah yeah"

"Oh my god" I say.

"There's only four cars left!" The announcer says.

I see Dodge's still in the game... and so is Ray.

Only two cars left now, Ray's and Dodge's. 

This is gonna be interesting.

"Oh shit" I whisper. "Looks like Dodge is stuck"

"Yap" Natalie nods.

Ray's car simply reverses and crashes into Dodge's. 

"Boom! Ray Halm just destroyed him" the announcer exclaims.

"Oh c'mon" Natalie exclaims too.

"Yep.. another burst to his ego" I comment dryly as Ray jumps on top of Dodge's car celebrating.

He comes to the edge of the court and incite the crowd, who was already screaming his name.

Once he spots me he simply sends me a kiss to which I rispond with my middle finger and a roll of my eyes.

I look around to see where Dodge might be and when I find him I'm surprised to see him talking to Luke.

What the hell are they talking about?

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

I am still confused by a concept: how come Jiang Yanli was considered a stalker? I get that the soup incident was considered rather questionable by some people, I think?? Not sure. But I doubt she just went and returned from Lotus Pier to the Carp Tower every now and there to stalk him- so did I miss something from the novel or the fandom is once again inventing things and sell them as a truth that MXTX told them in a dream?

Jiang Yanli also wasn't in Jinlintai aside from when Madam Jin, who on the urging of JIN ZIXUAN invited her over post-war, because, despite how salty his fangirls are, his "thing" for Jiang Yanli and all that miscommunication between them and not getting their admiration of the other etc, is meant to mirror our main couple. Jin Zixuan, is a weak literary mirror of his romance for the stronger actions of Lan Wangji's romance ventures.

Personally, I don't at all get this awful and bad projection of "if I was given soup from someone I didn't like, it would make me uncomfortable". STFU it's food, eat it, and no you wouldn't. Jin Zixuan didn't care at all obviously until he made the assumption that Jiang Yanli was lying, all when she had done this to avoid angering him BECAUSE SHE KNEW HE DIDN'T LIKE HER. He went out of his way to besmirch her honor, not just privately, but in front of Wei Wuxian and yelling. This goes beyond just him, as his entire actions could damage her reputation as a woman. He is not the one who was wronged simply put. He didn't like her, yet she never forced herself what so ever on him, and I find it hard pressed to believe SOUP is so wrong to give when she gave that to multiple people out of simple good gesture.

She, is called a stalker, simply all because she was complicit with an arranged marriage, which shocker, in historical instances that was the norm. She wasn't trying to get in his way in any of the story as we are shown and tried to be passive, and when he attacked her vocally she made damn sure to avoid him as much as possible as he made that clear it was what he wanted until The Phoenix Mountain incident where he insists on walking with her to express his feelings, that she has no clue about and is uncomfortable for the duration of the walk because he is emotionally constipated and can't spit out a sorry or that he likes her after seeing her for what she is as a person.

But oh how dare a girl be complicit with her prospects set forth by her traditional parents and not hate her fiancé or speak awfully of him as he does of her eventually all because he was an immature brat at the time to not realize anything outside of his own upset.

[fincalinde]

JGY! (getting in ahead of the crowd)

Ah, but of course. I have only had 3 asks for this meme so I can only assume people are sick of my whinging, so it's not like you beat the rush.

a song that reminds me of them

I'm trying to think of songs that I haven't already strip mined for fic titles and not coming up with much. So maybe this can just be a recommendation for PHILDEL, who is one of my favourite artists. A lot of her work has serious Xiyao vibes, and off the top of my head the one that might be the most JGY on his own is Glorious.

There's a place I go A place I always stand alone And need no witness to my throne Here I say my piece And have no need to be believed The bridge I built will carry me Beyond the creatures of your sea

and

Here I win my day I make my kill upon the grave And need no hero to be saved Here the light still shines Despite the odds and all the time Despite the gods and their design

—like, omg

what they smell like

He's obviously fastidious because he can't ever afford not to be, but I'd probably stage it like this:

Before his mother dies - can never get rid of the cheap sickly smell of the brothel incenses.

After his mother dies - not around much if any incense and must be as respectable as possible, smells of clean cloth and silk and whatever hair oil he can afford. He is very careful about hair oil, he absolutely must not appear to be cheap or tacky.

When he's serving the Nie - similar to the above, probably keeps making little adjustments every time he's bullied about something in a fruitless attempt to mitigate all the judgement and make himself respectable.

When he's serving the Jin - see above but so much worse.

When he's serving the Wen - very careful at first but begins to adjust to having some form of power and resource that protects him from direct abuse. Spends enough time with WRH that he smells like the same incenses WRH prefers, and his scented hair oil and the like is carefully chosen to be consistent with whatever is fashionable amongst the Wen and approved of by WRH.

When he's legitimised - see above but dialled up. He has to walk a fine line between being the same as the other Jin without coming across as vulgarly ambitious. In fic a time or two I've mentioned that he smells of olibanum incense, which I chose as something that would have been imported at great expense and seemed characteristic of the Jin. He needs to demonstrate his status and his wealth, but that said: I guarantee you that it's a typical fragrance that's used all over Golden Carp Tower, and not a scent that's considered a signature central Jin family fragrance. He wouldn't be so bold.

When he's chief cultivator - sticking with what he was doing before. He can never stop being careful.

Secret bonus scent: sandalwood because he spends so much time around LXC.

an otp

oh well let me think of course it's Xiyao. I don't think the text supports a reading where they're lovers, but I think it does support a reading where their intimate friendship includes romantic feelings and the potential for a romantic and presumably also sexual relationship. LXC is the only person who gets on the MS tier of the JGY harm pyramid. JGY is the only person who sees LXC's needs and attempts to meet them. Their relationship is a true meeting of the minds, and the secrets between them are either mutually agreed and healthy or the result of horrific external circumstances. I think I've summed it up before.

a notp

I already mentioned how repellent I find Nieyao in my NMJ response.

Honestly though, JGY with anyone but LXC is a no from me. I think his relationship with QS is sweet and tragic, but it's telling that he never once talks about loving her for who she is and how they are together. He insists he loved her and the forcefulness of that assertion makes it clear he's being sincere, but the emphasis is all on how he's grateful for the fact that she never made his background an issue. It reads to me like he loves how sweet and kind she is and how brave and loyal, but even that is not enough for a healthy and successful relationship. I'm not going to get into the incest thing as that would be a whole other post.

Based on this, I think if he didn't need a wife for social and political purposes he'd have been equally as happy to have her as a supportive friend and political ally. She is canonically not that bright, and he needs an intellectual equal for true partnership—and that's not even getting into the importance of him needing a partner who's capable of grappling with moral relativism.

favorite platonic/familial relationships

This might make @thatswhatsushesaid happy—I really like JGY's relationship with NHS before he's forced to take out NMJ and it all goes to hell. JGY deserves a didi he can dote on. NHS probably does not deserve another doting gege, but I'll allow it anyway.

I also love JGY and JL. The flashback to JGY giving JL Fairy is one of my favourite scenes, not just because it shows that JGY genuinely loves and cares for JL, but because it shows that JGY's unique background and struggles have equipped him to provide JL with comfort and support that no one else could offer.

I always assumed Jin Chan and his little mob of thugs have parents who are a political threat to JGY within the Jin, or how else would they have the guts to harass the heir who will one day rule over them? So there's a lot of layers here for JGY, who has to navigate a delicate political situation while trying to do what he can for JL. I just think it's a beautiful moment where JGY cannot do what I'm sure he wants to do and deal directly with the source of the abuse, and so he does what he can. He knows better than anyone else that sometimes you can't make the abuse stop; but it still matters if you can help someone bear it a little bit better.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

I mean, how much time do you have? I have no patience for the ubiquitous bratty power bottom JGY bossing around 'service top' (vomit) LXC, and I also have no patience for the I think less ubiquitous now but still worth mentioning sadist dom JGY who fantasises about cutting lines into LXC. Those are probably the most common base types I've seen around, but the list, it goes on. I could write another few thousand words joylessly debunking what seems to get people off on AO3, but I really do spill enough ink already on highlighting how inconsistent these portrayals are with the JGY we see in canon.

I'm not saying every single word I personally write is blessed by the angels and incontrovertibly in line with the translated text of the novel, and obviously we are all here at the end of the day to have fun. But it does baffle me that this is so inescapable, because if you want those sorts of dynamics then there are so many other pairings out there to choose from.

the position they sleep in

This probably varies but he must be an extremely light sleeper and probably never sleeps with his back to the door.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in

Can I bring up my ATLA AU yet again ... yes, I am shameless. Or how about the theoretical X-Men AU I raised in the last post? The trouble is that this would have to be a setting where being a mutant is desirable and he has a weak mutation that he exploits to the maximum and perhaps later is able to strengthen.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

Since THAI COVER JGY was already taken, I'll pivot and say I really love what he's wearing in his official artwork. Look at this man! He is elegant and wealthy and powerful and classy and a skilled diplomat and administrator and yet there remains an air of danger about him. Precise! Deadly! Polite! sorry i think i got possessed by lan xichen there for a moment