#not sure why i felt compelled to post this but whatever

[the-order-of-release]

I read some dude's blog post about the fake Danzig twitter and how it demonstrates, basically, an essential immaturity and egocentrism of people at large, along with a glaring lack of self awareness. And yeah. It's important to be able to accept that just because you like something doesn't mean it has a "place" for you, it doesn't mean the person or people involved in it would want to be your friends or you'd even want to be friends with them. And that's fine. It's actually not a problem, it's not required. Probably most of the things i like wouldn't like me that and that's fine with me because these are just things i like. I'm not a teenager making my first feeble attempts at navigating an independent identity by surrounding myself with a package of things that represent what i think i want my identity to be (and what i think they might mean). I'm not bothered about nonsense like "defining my identity". And so it isn't necessary for me to twist myself into knots over whether I'd be friends with musician or celebrity that i will probably never meet (and frankly i dated enough musicians to know that the answer is I probably wouldn't care to hang out with them because even if they're very talented they're probably, at best, very boring) and I'm certainly not concerned with whether or not someone long dead, like Charles Baudelaire, would have been my friend. And so what? The stuff you like is just stuff you like, no matter how important it is to you. It really doesn't say that much about you as a person. There are probably millions of, idk, Pink Floyd fans and they absolutely do not all have some essential qualities in common and liking this band does not "mean" the same thing about them. It's just a coincidence, it's just a thing they like.

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

ok, i'm being so brave and making the rec post that i told anon i would do like three days ago.

the obligatory caveats. this is not comprehensive—i haven't read all the fic in this fandom, and i've barely looked at anything not in english. my reading habits are pretty broad—i'll read almost any pairing, and am generally willing to suspend my disbelief to do so. i am not usually an au person, though this fandom is doing its absolute damndest to prove me wrong on that point.

also i have…more…fics that i felt i should rec somewhere, so probably this is rec post one, but ten felt like enough and also saying things in public where people can hear me is, it turns out, absolutely excruciating. please no one be mean to me about this post, especially if you wrote one of these fics, because if you are i will simply fill my pockets with rocks and take to the sea, ok? ok.

excited to find out what i manage to do that ruins the formatting, links the wrong fics and/or people, or otherwise breaks things in this post. please tell me if i've fucked up, or if your fic is on this list and you would rather i keep your name out of my mouth, or whatever.

first, a very special mention to the mlc reference guide by @yletylyf. this is such an incredibly comprehensive and generous resource. you want a timeline for this show that does an incredibly poor job of maintaining its own timeline? it's here. you want episode summaries? they're here. you want all the people and places? they're here. if you're writing fic, you want this guide, because it's so much easier and faster than scanning episodes or subs files to figure out the name of one specific guy or whatever. it also means that at least occasionally you work on the thing rather than accidentally rewatching the same scene five times, or hypothetically watching two to four episodes without even really thinking about what you're doing. the reference guide is the unsung mvp of fandom.

beyond porch and portal, difanghua, teen, by willowdream. this is the vampire au that i didn't know i wanted? the author posted it and their note was like 'i'm trying to be the change i want to see in the world,' and i was like ok sure, i'm not really convinced that the change i need is vampire aus, but i'll give it a go, and then i did and was like, oh shit, i'm eating fucking glass about this vampire au, i'm chewing on my own fucking fingers, i'm so fucking normal about this, i need another hundred thousand words of this and also seventeen more vampire aus in my inbox by monday morning. i literally finished reading it and scrolled right back to the top to read it again. i have no idea why this fic hits so hard, but it took me out at the knees. the voices are perfect. something about it is just impossibly compelling.

不安的遠離，再无歸期 | restless distance, without return, fang duobing/qiao wanmian, mature and teen, by @difeisheng. this is technically two fics but they're short and you should read both of them because they're such a brutal, perfect encapsulation of grief, and a really beautiful acknowledgement of the ways that fang duobing and qiao wanmian can be read as reflections of each other, separated by a decade, and it just fucking guts me. i dunno. it's about the grief! it's about the yearning! it's about someone who understands parts of you that you wish didn't exist! i think i've reread this like once a week for the last six weeks and i feel like it gets overlooked because it's not A Ship but like. it could be. it should be.

dance the silence down, fanghua and feihua, explicit, by @momosandlemonsoda. this fic. ugh. ok. i'm breaking my own rules. i had two when i started writing this post: no works in progress, and no reccing things that i haven't left a comment on, like a goddamn grownup. this one fic is breaking both of those rules and i feel bad about it and will hopefully spend like, all day tomorrow just commenting on every chapter or something, but i have to do this. this fic is so good. this fic ruins me. this fic is 63k, still a work in progress, and also if i were losing the whole internet tomorrow and i got to keep one fic in all the world and it was the only fic i could have for the rest of time, it might have to be this one, even as a work in progress. i ignored this fic for so long—by which i mean probably two of the four months since i first watched mysterious lotus casebook—because i was like, i don't like aus, and i especially don't like rock star aus. (or sex work aus, and you're never gonna fucking believe what else this author is writing and what else i absolutely cannot get enough of—this is a sneaky bonus rec for all i wanna do is wrong, another fic that i feel so so so normal about!) but then i was like okkkkkkk but. maybe i'll try it. people seem to be nuts for it. and then i read it and i was like OH HOLY SHIT PEOPLE ARE FULLY CORRECT TO BE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED ABOUT THIS and normally, honestly, i wouldn't bother posting a rec like this because it's like 'oh haha have you read the five most popular fics in this fandom?' and it feels so redundant, but i know for a fact that a friend of mine who finished watching the show yesterday is reading this post, and even if everyone else has read it, she has not! anyhow as a former music person and a former diner cook, this fic like. i don't know. i feel like it broke me but also fixed me? i literally criticise writing professionally and every time i try to talk about this fic i find myself speechless because it's so perfect to me. i am deeply unwell about this fic. every time a new chapter comes out i sit down and read the whole thing again, yes, all sixty-thousand-plus words of it. some nights you go to bed and you're like 'what's the fucking point?' and then you're like 'no wait, there will eventually be more of dance the silence down,' and somehow that makes things suck a tiny bit less. my wife has made me take out like six sentences from this rec because they're too intense and too weird about it but i need you to understand: you have to read this fic.

in this dream, there is a lover to share this life with, fanghua, g, by @lianhuajing. alternative ending for the end of episode 27, in which li lianhua—precious man who has yet to discover a hill he's not willing to die on—apologises to fang duobing the only way he knows how, and it's wildly upsetting for everyone (but it's ok and it doesn't end miserably, no one panic). this is a delightfully angsty treat, and i love how conflicted fang duobing is in it—i feel like it's not something that i've seen explored a lot, but this poor boy really fuckin goes through it—his best friend and his childhood idol are the same person but are lying to him about it, and his dad's not actually his father and has been lying to him about it, and his best friend/childhood idol may have killed his father, and—yeah, is lying to him about it. like? someone give this poor man a hug and a cup of tea and a snack and a blankie. i love that we get to see some of his internal conflict in this.

quintessence of dust, feihua, teen, by justthereforit. this plays with one of my very most favourite tropes in the world, which is the one where the heart is a physical object and a physical form of trust and control and surrender and—like. this is so good. it's set in episode 13, which is, for me, one of the absolute peak angst points, and it absolutely nails it. di feisheng who's upset and vulnerable and frustrated and angry, li lianhua who knows he's going to die and can't bear the thought that he's going to take anyone else down with him, and they're both just so fucked up. chef kiss. i love it when everyone is emotionally wrecked and continually like 'ok no, i can take one more knife in my soul to protect someone else', and this absolutely delivers on that.

under moonlight, we change our futures yet again, feihua, explicit, by @thesilversun. the wedding room! obviously we have to have a wedding room fic, right? i'm not going to lie: i'm willing to suspend a lot of disbelief for wedding room fics, but in this one, it's actually a wonderfully, horrifyingly plausible setup. it walks a really fine line of keeping people in character, and acknowledging the inherent horror and seriousness of the situation, and also providing some desperately hot sex, and also managing to get the emotional beats of it, too. it has a sequel, which imo really has to be read as the conclusion to this fic, and it's just as good. it's possible that some of what i'm saying here is 'i love vulnerable-inside crusty-outside di feisheng' but like. i do. i love it so much.

what's sealed away, feihua, teen, by @bbcphile. AMNESIA FIC yessssss, a-fei my beloved, fics that handle brain damage/memory issues/amnesia well my beloveddddd. i love the a-fei arc, but i also have had a number of brain injuries and some other stuff that means that my own memory is…not so great, so i sometimes really struggle with how often amnesia in fiction is played off either as nothing to worry about or as a funny thing where everyone's in on the joke except the person who has amnesia. this fic is a great and sometimes very visceral exploration of a horrifying experience, and a really fantastic study of a-fei/di feisheng as a character, as well as the relationship that he has with li lianhua. a-fei trying to balance the trust he has in the sense memory of his body with his understanding of his relationship with li lianhua with li lianhua's reaction to—everything, really—is really well done and wonderful/terrible to read.

我只愿面朝大海 | i wish only to face the sea, g, by foreverstudent. ok so you wanna fuck yourself up some more? go read this. this is canon divergence from episode 39, and fang duobing has learned too well the lessons he's been taught, and sees the shape of things before li lianhua ever touches the wangchuan flower—so he sets about making sure that he won't be able to throw it away. this is agonising and gorgeous and maintains the canon relationships while developing the narrative differently. i wept literal tears. i was like 'ok that's it the worst part is over!' and then i remembered that there was another part coming and then i started crying. anyhow, it is—as ever, with me—about the devotion.

我住長江頭, 君住長江尾 -- i live upstream, you live downstream, fanghua, teen, by @rimbaudofficial. ok so this is Not a fic that i should like, because i am a massive academic failure and despite being in my forties have regular nightmares about having to re-engage with academia for like. any reason. HOWEVER. as noted, i read indiscriminately, even when i'm like 'reading this is a terrible idea and will be upsetting for me personally!', so i was like 'well, how bad of an idea can it possibly be?' and then instead! it was. incredibly charming? it was so fucking cute? the fang duobing characterisation in this is somehow just perfect to me—he's simultaneously confident and vulnerable, and also just so deeply committed to the weird clueless guy who he's decided is meant for him. di feisheng and li lianhua have a perfect weird-bros friendship. i would read another ten chapters of this and i would love it.

[soraviie]

tugging at his hair.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ navigation

━ about: angst, fluff, (themes of) smut, the holy trifecta  ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: may or may not have seen Yoongi's insta pic...may or may not be feeling very normal about it

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: Atypically, your boyfriend was actually quite the whiny guy. Friday evening, time - 20:30. Thanks to some uncanny miracle, Namjoon was free this night and you’d been eager to soak up each other’s company. You sat largely silent, tucked into his side and openly staring, merely breathing an infrequent “yeah” and “no way” so he wouldn’t suspect you were not listening. Though you were not listening, catching the jumping cadence of his offended voice only with the tip of your ears. Far too engrossed in admiring the glowing shade of his skin and furiously working cheeks, you felt your mind slip. Never before have you thought that someone resting on the couch, passively aggressively minding on chips could make your heart bleed with love. But everything about Namjoon was soft and comfortable. 

Unwittingly, you zeroed in on the tuft of his hair, poking out from underneath his hoodie. Without fully registering, you trailed your fingers down the hood, pulling it down and proceeded to tug at the back of his hair. Namjoon’s cheeks froze and with mouth full, he glanced at your side. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’re compelling like that.”

He returned back to the chips, completely unperturbed by the looks of it. 

“You need to condition them more,” noting absent-mindedly, you played with whatever strand called your fancy. He rolled his eyes, pinching your bare thigh. 

“Ow!

“You should be whispering sweet nothings in my ear,” he grumbled. “Confess how much you adore me, how hot I am.”

“Right,” you agreed, leaning into his expectant expression. “Your hair is also greasy as fuck. You should shower more.”

Violently, he hurled you into the decorative pillows scrunched from your combined weight, frowning at the easy laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m dating a bully,” he muttered bitterly, yet when you nosed at his neck, he craned it with no small amount of enthusiasm, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“Sure are,” you purred. “Can I play with your greasy hair more? Pretty please?” His eyes lingered, firmly set on the playing movie, but you reckoned his neck did grow increasingly warmer. 

“You’ll do it no matter what I say.” 

“‘Cause you’ve never said “no” to me.”

At that, he heaved a tormented sigh. 

“True. I’m but a lowly servant of love.”

You chuckled, pushing the black hair away from his forehead, messing it up. After a moment, with a barely concealed grin, he offered:

“Maybe now I can card through your leg hair.”

“Not funny,” you glared at him but Namjoon merely sniggered further on. 

“A little funny.”

YOONGI: Your hand was practically aching as it laid listlessly by your side, partially sinking into the plush sofa of his studio. Fully drowned in work, he sat by the monitor, one hand coming to rest by his lips, the other - tinkering with the beat. And his hair - the hair - curled around him like a ring of halo. He drew a heavy sigh, reaching up to muss the chief objects of unease further. Yet you couldn’t just follow the delirious caprice. Yoongi was a guarded man, he liked his personal space and, despite how much you longed for it, you couldn’t just tug at his long hair. The relationship was still fresh and had to be trodden like a melting glacier - nice and easy. Crossing the itching arms over your stomach, you huffed in discontent. 

“What?” he suddenly hummed, and you recoiled, assuming he was blissfully ignorant of your lingering stare. 

“Nothing,” you replied, but his chair turned, a pair of disbelieving eyes falling your way.

“Just say it.”

“I want to tug at your hair,” the sentence practically rushed out as though your body was actively disregarding your own orders. 

“Why don’t you just do it?”

You nibbled with your fingers suddenly feeling rather foolish. 

“I want to be respectful,” you muttered underneath the nose, and a second later, you grasped what sound Yoongi was making. Laughing.

He was laughing at you.

Resting his forehead against the desk, you saw his shoulders wag in muffled glee. 

“You know,” he faced you, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Most couples grope each other the first chance they get.”

“Oh, shut it,” groaning, you sank into the sofa, only for all objections to wither into the ether once Yoongi lowered his head with a soft “come ‘ere”. 

Cautiously, fearing the dream could shatter at the moment’s passing, you made your way to where he sat and with bated breath curled your palm around his fluffy curls, giving them a tender yet generous pull. Something akin to instant relief flooded your system, making the tips of your fingers tingle. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Yoongi wondered, the curve of his smile suggesting he was barely holding himself back from teasing you into oblivion. You tugged at his hair once more, this time harder, and a prolonged moan left his lips, startling you both. 

“Not as much as you, it seems,” you smirked down at him, enjoying how his eyes flitted away from you, self-conscious red dusting his cheeks. 

“Just go for it next time,” he grumbled shyly, making no move to pull away. “Before you give yourself an IBS.”

JIN: He knew what you wanted by the frankly terrifying gleam hidden behind your eye. There was something entirely transfixed passing your expression as you stared at his head with steely determination. Ordinarily, Jin was content with your inexplicable obsession. Rather this than pulling at his cheeks, he reckoned, however, now…

“I won’t pry ________ off of me,” he whined, gazing into a mirror. Even to his completely normal and unscrambled brain, the permed curls resting atop his forehead seemed inviting. Fluffy. Moussed. Reasonably asking to be tugged. 

“Oh, what a torture,” Namjoon dragged aridly, perched in the corner, not unlike a sullen owl. “You have someone to go home to who loves to play with your hair. Poor you.”

Graciously ignoring the seeping sarcasm, JIn breathed a tormented sigh. 

“I know right.”

Namjoon merely rolled his eyes, returning back to his quiet moping. 

When Jin crossed the threshold, he found you immersed in laundry, folding it and turning to greet him home like always.

“Hello!” you exclaimed cheerfully. “How was your da-”

Frightfully, he swallowed. Your expression grew distant and in spite of his jerky movements, your attention never wavered from the top of his head. 

“May I eat at least?” he mewled weakly and you nodded just not before actually thinking about it. 

After eating in peace, the last one he’d get for the evening, Jin slowly trodded to the bedroom, shoulders hung low in premature defeat. On the other side of the door, you were waiting for him already, blinking expectantly from underneath the covers. After a prolonged groan, he obliged your whims and settled his head on your lap. To get it over with. 

Instantly, your fingers delved deep into his curls, tugging and twirling them to your heart’s strange desire. 

“How cute,” you gushed. “So fluffy!”

Jin closed his eyes, trying to suppress the blossoming smile. Perhaps, he didn’t entirely hate being coddled in such a fashion but you didn’t need to know that. Unbeknownst, to him, you were more than aware as, in spite of his efforts to mask the pleased grimace, he failed to conceal the ears burning bright red. 

HOSEOK: “Sorry,” he said, squirming and glancing to the side. “But no.”

Well, no was no and you just had to learn how to live with it. Every time your hand subconsciously reached to grasp a strand of his hair between your fingers, not really meaning anything good or bad, just doing so out of instinct, you reigned it back, forcing the treasonous hand to ultimately fall unused. It may or may not have taken you a whole year to timidly wonder aloud:

“Why don’t you like for me to touch your hair?” 

Hoseok was practically asleep - his voice came crackling from the other side of the bed. 

“It’s nothing personal,” he sighed, cracking one eye open, glancing at your demure expression through the dark. “It’s just…” then he fell silent. Only after a pregnant pause, one long enough for you to assume he’d succumbed to sleep, he casually brushed it off:

“It’s just a preference.”

He rolled on the side and the conversation ended there. 

“Hey, ______________!” Jimin greeted you brightly the second you took a step inside the partially hidden makeup studio. Being nearly four in the morning, filming’s end, sparsely anyone was present and even those few people didn’t bother acknowledging you through the haze of insomnia. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He smirked, all cheek as always. 

“Could ask the same for you. It’s really late.”

You shrugged, enjoying the distraction of easy chatter. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Supposed Hoseok would appreciate some company home.”

“Ah, dear ______________,” Jimin snaked a hand around your shoulder. “Geniuses think alike.”

“Oh no,” you laughed, scurrying away from his treacherous hold. “Don’t try to seduce me into being your fangirl. It won’t happen.”

What was with Jimin and his tenacious will to make himself your bias you did not know and you never quite asked either, although it provided plenty of icebreakers across the slew of accidental meetings. 

“Shame,” he drawled. “Maybe better though. Hoseok would kill me.”

To properly lament the wretched situation, Jimin sighed and reached to rake a hand through his hair. Hair that had been growing out and now sat shining with silver highlights. Unwittingly, your hand jolted by the side of your thigh. 

“You want to touch?” he offered, sporting a grin too devious for your peace of mind. You probably shouldn’t but what’s the big deal…It’s just hair…

Doors to the room sprang open with a great bang and you crossed gazes with Hoseok, instantly swallowing in guilt. With expression previously lax, now growing cloudy, he flitted between you and Jimin. 

“What’s going on?” with narrowed glare, he questioned, voice falling in a carefully curated tone which was, of course, far more menacing. 

“Just waiting for you superstar,” Jimin laughed thinly only to wither when placed underneath Hoseok’s chilling frown. “On second thought, I’ll get home on my lonesome. Goodbye!”

And without giving anyone the time to even blink, Jimin had already disappeared into thin air. No, he was definitely not winning any favours from you.  

The drive back home was spent in fraught silence, with Hoseok’s hands gripping the wheel so tight, every now and then it heaved a maltreated scream. Any minute soon the wrath bubbling underneath his skin would surge like pressurised water out of a geyser. However, Hoseok wasn’t a jealous person, even less when it came to the members. Both were trusted explicitly. Was it stress perhaps? 

Finally, he crumbled. 

“What is it with you and hair?” he sneered sharply. Straight away you bristled at the unspoken accusation. 

“Nothing. Better yet what’s with you? I can’t even talk to Jimin now?”

“You went to him with the one thing, I couldn’t give you,” he countered as the car surged with tension.

“I did not go to him!” you squalled in frustration. “Are you even hearing yourself?!”

“It’s our thing!”

“No, it’s mine! You hate -!”

“It’s because of my ex, okay?!”

An awkward silence settled in the space between you. Red light pooled through the windshield.

“She liked to play with my hair,” he explained, anger abating as it was quickly seized by contrite embarrassment. “And I was afraid that if you’d do it, I would unwillingly think of her. You deserve better than that.” 

You bit your lip to stop the growing smile, simply breathing: “I see.” Then - 

“However, how would I know what you’re thinking?”

He stared ahead, lips thinning identical to yours. 

“Probably wouldn’t,” he sighed. “But I’d feel at blame.”

You hummed and gazed outside the window, still battling the blossoming smile, though it was nothing compared to the warmth churning within your chest. A hand reached for yours and Hoseok guided your fingers towards his hair. It was finer than you realized but nice. It was Hoseok after all. 

“Are you thinking of her?” you gently pondered. 

“Not at all,” he whispered in a breathy voice, eyes briefly falling shut. “You’re the only one for me.”

JIMIN: Instead of happiness, his lips pursed into a thin line, gaze becoming evasive. 

“Thank you, but I’m too tired.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I…I’m not in the mood for sex either.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed forlornly, literally feeling him slip through the cracks of your fingers. “Just…get in, and I’ll take care of you,” in a smaller voice, you added. “Like you do of me.”

Standing in the cracked gap of the bathroom door, he contemplated for a second, before breathing a heavy exhale, one expressing the entire weight of the world. Water sloshed as he got in the bath you drew up, and the window soon was covered by a thick layer of condensation, the deep black night growing matted behind it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he tossed over the bare shoulder, but you brushed his concerns away. 

“I want to.”

“If it's because what I said -”

“It’s not.”

“- then I was out of line.”

“You were not.”

“I take it back.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But -”

Every time he spoke, his head turned to steal a glimpse of you, perhaps entirely on instinct, the water doused you with a heavy wave, drenching the floor and dumping the rose petals out with it. You grasped his head between your palms, keeping him still at least long enough to apologize sans the pain of his scrutinising gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” you confessed, letting your forehead rest on the back of his neck. “I won’t ever let you feel like taken for granted.” 

He sat unmoving for a long time and you gasped shakily, trying to swallow the budding tears. Well, obviously you would self-sabotage the only good thing in your life. Only naturally at this point in life...

…but this was Jimin and it didn’t matter whether you tucked yourself away in a locked room or an ocean away, he’d extend you the same kindness you were so eager to return. Pulling your arms around his neck, he smiled, laying a tender kiss upon your trembling knuckles. 

“Nothing to forgive,” he muttered. “We were never in the wrong.”

You choked back a sob. Nonetheless, the night was still about him. 

“Right,” you sobered up, pushing him lower in the water. “Just try to relax.”

“Are you planning to kill me?” he teased tiredly. “Besides, it’s a bit difficult given that my cock is just…out here,” he gestured vaguely at his lower part and you chuckled thinly. 

“Nothing new to me. This is just…romantic.”

“Well, you certainly know the befitting aesthetic,” pointedly, he peered across the dozens of scent-free candles littered over every available surface of the bathroom and the pink petals now displayed haphazardly between the bath and the grey mat beside it. 

Pressing a handful of shampoo in his hair, you hissed with mock annoyance: “oh, zip it.”

You kept working in now pleasant silence. Peace was in the house, at least it was until…

His groan was near explicit and watching Jimin throw his head back, nuzzling deeper into your hands, you knew you’d never forget the sight. It didn’t even seem like he’d registered it and soon enough the curiosity overwhelmed you. You rinsed his hair and then scratched lightly across the scalp. Another moan, even longer and somehow so filthy you could swear your entire body flushed. 

“So…” he chuckled, strangely nervous. “Did I just give you a quick way to control my entire nervous system?”

You laid a kiss on his nape and the water rippled from his shudder.

“Sure did.”

The moons now adorning his spine were entirely at fault here or so you insisted, tugging his styled hair between your fingers, occasionally scratching just to see the struggle to keep his eyes open. 

“The stylist is going to kill you,” he warned breathily but Jimin was never more grateful for losing his composure, that day in the bath than he was at this moment. Like grime washed away by a wet towel, your presence eased his worry into the void, while your fingers twirling his hair kept him there. How strange that such a small thing could do so much but then again if it did not, then would Jimin have bought a ring that now laid in his jacket pocket, heavy and searing like the infinite weight of Cosmos.

“Worth it,” you hummed. He couldn’t agree more. 

TAEHYUNG: Frankly, the question of your enjoyment never made it into the equation as before you could even wonder of the idea, Taehyung had shamelessly thrust his head into your lap. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whined by now not needing a verbal order to know what he craved. 

“Too bad,” retorting without so much as an ounce of empathy, he grasped your fingers, bringing them down upon his head. Five minutes later he was snoring on your legs and no amount of force could rouse him, divine or otherwise. It was a language of his, one he talked exclusively with you. 

Trees breezed past the rolling car and sitting still, you watched them blur into wide, rushing lines. At first innocent, his palm intertwined with yours, gaze locked on the road ahead. You hummed. He liked to hold hands, and so did you, only for yours to suddenly be submerged within his dark curls. 

“Seriously?!” you yelped, and he chuckled with no small amount of glee. 

The door smacked behind, or it would have if Taehyung had not been hot on your heels the entire way home. 

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung mumbled, by now so many times it didn’t remotely even sound like a proper sentence. 

“Not accepted,” you sneered, yanking off the jacket, maybe tearing a button or two in the process. “You embarrassed me! And for what?! Some childish caveman display of jealousy?” 

The rest of the insult is expressed through a hardened scowl. As you jostled, enraged and unthinking, to peel off the stifling layers, Taehyung enclosed you into a hug, towering above you, his head lowered into the crook of your neck. 

“Please, don’t be mad at me,” pitifully he muttered, a warm breath ghosting over your collarbone. “Take it out on me but promise you won’t be mad afterwards.”

Without even quite thinking, you wrenched out of his grasp and seized his hair, yanking it harshly towards you. At the back of your mind, panic took root - were you hurting him? Was this not wrong? But Taehyung grew positively limp, pliant, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as his widened eyes tracked your every movement. 

“I’m really angry,” you whispered with a frown. 

“I’m sorry,” uselessly, he whimpered when you grasped at his locks. “It’s just…”

All you have to do is tug again for a high-pitched squeal to rip from the depths of his chest. “Don’t want to lose you.”

Something in the near incoherent way he breathed it, made your heart soften. 

“Why are you crying?” you asked quietly, wiping the stray tear off his cheek. 

Early morning hued the sky pink as you lay beside each other, relishing in the muted stillness of the room. 

“Don’t know,” Taehyung sniffled. “Felt like it.”

You reached to brush his hair and soon enough he was slumbering again - all tears faded into the dawning cold. 

JUNGKOOK: Frankly, you didn’t grasp why in situations such as these the other partner always offered sex. You were far more willing to simply lug this nightstand at Jungkook’s head. Without knocking you cracked open the doors to his gaming room, discerning the explosive sounds of combat swirling around the room. 

“Jungkook, you promised!” you complained and he held out a hand, gaze locked on the game. 

“I’ll be there soon, babe,” he lied in between strangled curses. “Just one more round.”

He’d muttered that already two fruitless hours ago. 

“No, now!” you threatened, coming to stand by his chair, watching the battle unfold, thoroughly unimpressed by it. He offered some incoherent noise that lacked any meaning, and in a flash of swirling annoyance, you yanked at his hair, forcing his eyes to land upside down upon your face. 

“Now.”

Most people would hastily become upset at such a gesture but the little masochist grinned from cheek to cheek, expression gaining a certain twinkle. You groaned at his satisfaction. Couldn’t even playfully torment him. The brat enjoyed it. 

“Okay, folks,” he spoke into the headset, with your hand still firmly latched in his shaggy hair. “It’s been a pleasure, but I’ve got to go.”

Someone hollered in the chat but it went entirely unheard. Pushing the chair away from the desk, he reached to pull your other arm to rest on top of his thundering heart. 

“What’s up, babe?”

For someone who was jerked by the roots of his hair, Jungkook appeared entirely too delighted. 

“I need you -”

“Oh, you need me?”

“To hammer in the nails to the nightstand. Brat,” saying so, your grip on his hair grew harsher. All that came of it was Jungkook’s raspy laughter, eyes briefly fluttering shut and lips carving a sharp line in his dimpled cheeks. 

“Couldn’t you just do it yourself?”

“Well if injury is to happen, I’d prefer it is you, not me.”

“Liar,” he smirked. “You cried when I tripped.”

Traitorous heat snuck its way onto your cheeks. 

“I thought your leg broke,” you muttered before nudging him outside. “Now get to working.”

“Yes, my liege,” he curtsied, proceeding then to wring his tattooed hands around your waist, making you hobble like some sort of overtly humped creature. His nose quickly delved into its reserved spot in the crook of your neck. 

“Always smell so good,” hazily, Jungkook muttered and you shook your head at his antics. 

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the one who's constantly trying to dom me by hair pulling.”

“It’s not a dom thing!”

“Sure, baby,” he rasped, planting a wet kiss against your neck. “Whatever you say. Just remember you now owe me three hair pulls in return.”

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[icequeenbae]

Hiii I love love LOVE your HEARTSTEEL/Sett x reader fic it was so good 😭

Could I ask for something similar with either Sett, Kayn, or Ezreal (or all 3) with a chubby!reader who is constantly discouraged about their body because of past trauma and the current societal beauty standards and thinks that the boys should go find someone else “in their league”! Thanks!! ❤️❤️

Pairing: Heartsteel!Kayn x chubby!Reader

Established Relationship, light angst if you squint, fluff

Warnings: body insecurity

Word Count: ~0.9k

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s Note: Hi, sweetie! Thank you for the request~ Since I already did a similar scenario with Sett and I am already working on another one with Ezreal (coming out soon!!), I chose to go with Kayn in this scenario. I hope you like this one too 💕

You stayed out of the way and minded your own business. It was a little stressful for you to be here, amidst the making of your boyfriend’s first grand music video. You barely knew anyone here, and you didn’t want to disrupt the process by wandering around without permission. Although Kayn did tell you that you were allowed to take a look around while he was busy, you still felt like an intruder.

Soon you found yourself studying the music video shots displayed on the large screens for the filming crew to monitor. You watched from afar and then made an awkward attempt to come closer and peek, afraid of being told off for your nosiness. But no one really paid any attention to you, courtesy of your grey hoodie, you were sure. Most people would think you were some kind of intern on set and likely ask you for coffee or cables... or whatever it was that the interns did.

As you inched closer, you noticed that the girls from the crew were monitoring Kayn’s scene with the rottweiler. You found that dog to be super cute when you saw the dog trainer work with him beforehand. But at this time, you were the only one interested in the four-legged actor. The production staff were all swooning and pining… and drooling over Kayn’s six-pack.

Yes, those just had to be out for the entirety of the video, and, of course, for the whole day on set. If anyone could be confident enough to rock a crop top like this, it was your boyfriend. God, you were embarrassed to even think that it your head… A guy like Kayn laying his eyes on you? No one would ever believe it had you told them. No, not even in the realm of possibilities.

‘Wow, his abs are nasty!’ One of the girls in front of you noted.

‘He is nasty!’ The other one giggled into her fist. ‘Can you imagine how firm they are?’

‘Oh you! His girlfriend must know! Lucky her…’ The third one interjected, and they all sighed.

‘Shit. I cannot even imagine the girl he must be dating. Some chic supermodel, I suppose.’ The first one suggested.

You were right there, almost compelled to nod in agreement. He did look like a guy who’d snatch a real beauty easily. Pretty girls also loved them some bad boys. But somehow there you were, not even close to being considered a supermodel… You weren’t particularly fit underneath those baggy clothes of yours. How on Earth you ended up dating this man, who was completely out of your league, you had no clue. And it wasn’t a pleasant thing to think about. Sometimes you were wondering what he saw in you, if he actually did. Being somewhat sneaky and secretive about your relationship didn’t help your confidence either.

‘Are you just gonna stand there and stare at half-naked men all day?’ Someone yelled from behind, startling all four of you.

You blurted out an apology, caught red-handed, but the culprit, one of the production managers, looked at you in confusion.

‘Y/N? Sorry, I thought you were part of the crew. Why are you here? You can come up the stairs to watch from there.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay. I didn’t want to intrude.’ You refused hastily.

‘It’s fine, Kayn told me to keep an eye on you. Don’t be shy. He’s probably going out of his way with the acrobatics just to impress you anyway!’

Your face started to burn, and you began refuting his claims.

‘Not at all, he just wants to do well for their first big release…’

‘Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,’ the manager winked at you and sniggered at your ablush look. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

As he dragged you closer to the main filming area, you finally noticed the stares of the crew members you overheard earlier. They were probably quite disappointed from seeing you in real life – no supermodel at all.

However, as soon as you were brought to the area, Kayn was all over you.

‘Y/N! Did you get lost somewhere?’ He gave you a tight squeeze after appearing next to you in a second. ‘I wanted you to watch me doing the stunts…’

‘See? Cares about the big release, my ass.’ The manager grinned next to you.

‘Did you say something?’ Kayn gave him a pointed look, and the man simply raised his hands in surrender, making his way to the cameras. ‘Anyway, I have to go back in a moment, but you stay put and enjoy yourself, okay?’

You nodded shily, and he was on his way.

But then he turned around, walked back and grabbed your face to kiss you. It was quick and unpredictable, and he stayed close to you afterwards, brushing his nose against yours.

‘Okay?’ He repeated in his low voice, making you smile.

‘Okay.’

Finally, Sett made a disgusted noise, yelling from his spot.

‘Get back here and finish your scene, loverboy!’

Kayn’s eye sparked red for a moment, and then he pecked you on the lips one more time.

‘Stay put, baby.’ He turned around to face his impatient bandmate. ‘Care to say that one more time, buddy? I see you want me to tickle those ears of yours again…’

Non-EXO masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Third request down! I hope you liked this little something~ I'm working hard to put those out as soon as I can, so please don't forget to comment and reblog if you want to support me 💜 And check out my masterlist for more HEARTSTEEL and kpop content! 💫

[m4rried2the-moon]

reflections on manifestation frustration

hello all :) so this is my first text post, i felt very compelled to share a few messages from my journal this morning. just some things to do with struggling with manifestation frustration and some observations to help those who are struggling to remain hopeful and confident!

✎ impatience

the best comparison, imo, to manifestation is like ordering something offline. you picked it, you 'bought' it and now you must simply wait for it. this waiting can be especially frustrating if you order something from overseas, but i feel like this analogy fits best because you know it's coming eventually and it gives you this room to still live in the moment while you understand that its coming.

✎ lack of confidence

if anyone deserves this, it's you babe, believe that. not only have you brought yourself this far to accept that you can have it, but you know within that it can only materialize if you continue to trust that feeling. after all, why wouldn't you have what makes you happy? trick question, there is no reason!

✎ bleak present reality

because your shipment is already on its way, think about your present reality as that waiting period before you receive your desire. your present reality may feel like a deep energy of lack right now but understand that the state you imagine yourself in while having it and the state of your present reality is synonymous. your desire is as real as your current reality and knowing this creates a protective and assured energy from spiral-prone doubts/beliefs.

✎ reflection on past successful 'deliveries'

i'm almost sure everyone has experienced wanting something and kind of subconsciously end up receiving it through whatever circumstance. times like that i believe are examples of our natural ability to attract what we want into our lives without constantly applied efforts, either. stress can be a huge part of manifestation frustration, but reflecting on these easy times of natural magnetism to the things that belong to you can remind you that you already have it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

tbh i was actually struggling with this before journaling and this is just what i remind myself when i have times like this, bc i'm ngl i cried with frustration earlier but it's about picking yourself back up and knowing that your confidence is bigger than any other energy that could rob you!

anyways, hope this helped!

[sailtomarina]

I don’t want to be alone right now

fred weasley & hermione granger | friendship, fluff

He found her huddled in the garden, the curls a stark difference from the hydrangeas and rhododendrons flanking her on both sides. Ugly, gasping sobs rent the otherwise still space. It wasn’t yet midday, but rather that brief break after the morning bird calls and just before the afternoon drone of insects.

Fred didn’t know what had compelled him to walk out the back door. Call it a sixth sense, or whatever else. There was a tug; he followed.

Now, he stood watching her. Hermione. 

What is she doing here? he thought. Why is she crying?

Fred’s first impulse was to hunt down his baby brother and drag him outside. Surely he was the cause of all this, or, at the very least, knew what had happened. Fred could never figure out what it was that bound the two together aside from–and here, he scoffed–life and death. Without Harry Potter, without Hermione’s propensity to help, help, always help, the two shared very little in common.

He loved Ron, but he also knew Ron was a bit of a dunderhead.

“Hermione?” Crouching down, he tried to keep his voice soft. He didn’t want to scare her off.

She gasped anyway, face jerking up to reveal blotchy skin wet from distress. “F-Fred?”

He held both palms up in an entreaty. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He knew what her answer would be before she voiced it, because this was Hermione. She’d rather bear all the weight of her troubles until she collapsed rather than burden anybody else. She was like Harry, in that way. Maybe that was where Ron fit in–the only one of the three who sought help, and received their trust in kind.

“No, I-I’m fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” Now she stood, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her jumper. Her eyes darted around as if she was ashamed. He could tell she was looking for an avenue of escape.

“Don’t apologise. I come out here, too, sometimes.”

“You do?” There was so much hope in those two words.

“I do.” And he did. 

Of all his siblings, only he and Charlie seemed to take comfort in Mum’s garden. The others would rather sprint off to the fields for Quidditch, or to the orchard to get lost among the trunks and apple-laden branches. He did, as well, but when he wanted quiet–true quiet–he came here.

“Why?”

“It’s one of the only places where nobody thinks to look for me.” Except for George, of course. But George, unlike the rest, knew when to give him space without being told or asked for it. “Is that what you would prefer? For me to give you privacy?”

She chewed on her lip as she seemed to consider him. He observed her back, waiting patiently for her to reply. Moisture still clung to her lashes, framing her dark, gold-flecked eyes and making them appear even larger. They reminded Fred of fire sparks in the night.

“No. I don’t want to be alone right now, even though I did earlier.” The small smile she sent him felt like a win. Her cheeks flushed as he rewarded her with a grin of his own.

Almost shyly, she took his offered hand, biting her lip all the while. She allowed him to lead her over to the stone bench above which wisteria hung with its heavy perfume. She didn’t pull away when he continued to hold on.

“Now, who do I need to go and beat up?”

Her tinkling laughter was a balm that soothed as much as delighted. Fred didn’t know it yet, but this was the start of something lasting and beautiful, a connection that would save him when all seemed lost.

Written for Weasleys, Witches, & Writers 7.19.24 HumpDay prompt, “I don’t want to be alone right now

626 wc

Cross-posted on Facebook and Tumblr

[theanxiousghostartist]

TMAG 18 SPOILERS

Pre Case:

Lena's disscussion with Sam sparked my interest, while I was reading the transcript.

Her use of "Consider" is capitalized. I wonder if this means it is similar to Elias's "Behold" or the Eye's "Know," the Web's "Compell." The way she said it, it kinda felt like the way John asked questions after he became an Avatar of the Eye. "If you like" was added as an afterthought of sorts, perhaps to make sure it wasn't finialzed for Sam. In other words, it was up to him. John asked questions like this in TMA, either trying to mame them vauge or by telling people afterwords that they didn't have to answer.

Furthermore, Lena and Sam talking about Celia and Jack got interesting. It seems like Lena knew that Celia had a child, with the "childcare emergency." She also said this with pity. She also called Jack "it." I wonder if there is something more to Jack, and if Lena knows that. Maybe Jack is a child of an "external" or some entity?

Case:

When the victim was giving her "after death statement," she explicitly mentioned spiders, rot, and "most importantly, too many rooms." This makes the house on Church Streeet feel similar too Hilltop Road and the Distortion's relm. From what she had described about what her mother said, it seems like her mother predicted her death.

Then she goes onto mention "clouds of loneliness" and rot yet again. This meams we now have references to: the Web, the Corruption, the Spiral, and the Lonley throughout this statement so far.

The victim mentioned that someone had brought her to the house. I wonder if this was a Distortion that brought her there or maybe an Avatar that is Distortion adjacent? Perhaps this will be a future external we'll meet! Overall, it seems like she was a victim of the Lonely and Distortion, with a little bit of Corruption.

Post Case:

I found this discussion between Sam and Alice interesting. Sam's coping mechanism seems to be to know all he can about whatever is bothering him. Furthers my theory that he is Eye-aligned and may be a future Eye Avatar.

On the other hand, Alice's coping mechanism seems to be to bottle it up and leave it behind.

It's really interesting to see their personalities clash.

Alice says that she sees that curiosity gets you killed during the time she has worked at the OIAR. I wonder if that aligns with the person she watched die. I'm wondering if that's also why Lena has a previously unspoken rule about "no externals in the office."

Georgie's in TMAGP with a speaking role!!

She and Celia seem to be friends, and pretty close, since she asks Georgie watch him. But I don't like the implication of "taking Georgie's face." I hope it's not foreshadowing.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

"All I asked is if they pick their eyebrow or head hair." This IS an absolutely insane thing to ask someone with trichotillomania. You weren't asking out of curiousity, you were gearing up to make a point about how their compulsion is too gender conforming. You've made multiple posts claiming that women who give reasons for shaving other than societal pressure are lying, so I'm not sure why you're claiming you haven't accused anybody of lying when that was the premise of your original post.

Listen, if you don't want me to pick apart your argument, why make it? Of course I was gearing up to make a point, this is a debate! If you're going to counter my arguments then of course I'm gonna pick at whatever you just said.

Anon told me about their trichotillomania in order to disprove my point about women shaving for societal approval, so I asked them if their disorder only extends to the places society already expects them to shave. If you are not compelled to pick at your eyebrow and head hair then I absolutely have to ask why that's the case. Anon literally entered this debate and you're mad at me for asking for clarification? Anon entered my inbox so I could directly see their argument, and you're mad at me for wanting them to expand on it? My original post was about sensory issues, not about trichotillomania. Anon, for whatever reason, felt attacked enough to reach out to me directly. Why? What about my sensory issues post would make them offended enough to send me an ask about their very real disorder?

Also, yes, I said some women were lying but I never said women with disorders like trichotillomania were lying. That is an ENTIRELY different scenario.

[swordheld]

i have been scrolling through ur page and noticed that u tend to put long, thoughtful tags underneath nearly every post u reblog & i just thought that was very endearing since the general trend is short and concise. im not sure why i felt the need to write u and let u know, but i just felt very compelled to. pls never stop being u.

this is so very sweet of you!! it's an old habit that i have held onto for the longest time, mostly due to the fact of tags being excellent for organization (my beloved) but also as a kind of extra space for whatever else you'd like to include without actually including it in the post when others share it for themselves! it's that perfect mixture of private n public.

for this blog specifically it's something that i enjoy since it's really an exercise or activity in enjoyment / enrichment? i like to think about why i was so inclined to reblog it, to pin it up to this lil space on the interwebs that's all my own. whether that's the colors, or the wording of things, or just what it makes me think about or feel, it's just a really lovely way of considering it all a little deeper!

which is not something that comes easy, or at minimal energy, sometimes! my likes are extensive (i keep attempting to clean them out and bring back my queueing system but we are up to 5k and i am very tired at the moment, lol) for that reason, and it's like a small goal to try to chip away at them over time, to see what treasure i can discover today.

alternatively, it's also a really nice near - time capsule of a thing; to be able to comb through my archive and see what has changed in my outlook, what sticks out to me now versus then, is really fascinating to see how far i've come and what's changed. there's something so lovely about time being instilled so deeply into this lil mini game of online scrapbooking that i adore; so i'm peached n overjoyed that you find some joy in it as well!!

this is all to say: thank you sm and i hope you try it out for yourself if it's something you think you might have fun with! let me know how it goes :)

[loquaciousquark]

hi! i’ve been a fan of your writing since da2 and i’m so glad you’re playing bg3 now too. it’s been really interesting following your play throughs and character choices and how that ties in with your fic. i know you went with the choice to have astarion kill tav when he firsts bites her because it’s hilarious and i always want to do that, but i think i’d miss the scene after with the whole camp (and all the approval for defending him lol) and ahhhh i just don’t know! if you feel like it, i was wondering if you would talk more about your HCs around that choice and what to you makes it worth losing the morning after scene with everyone because i feel like it’s such an important group moment but… i want to punch him for killing me and also kind of slow things down with him so we stay just reluctant but oddly compelled allies for longer

Ahhh, what a fabulous question! Thank you so very much for this handcrafted opportunity to sit you down at my kitchen table with a cup of coffee and trap you for the next three and a half hours.

So the first bite scene ending in Tav's death wasn't actually intentional! I started playing BG3 in a three-person MP team with @eponymous-rose and @mystery-moose, and it so happened that my character (Tavish Gale, already ironclad) was the one who came across the boar and triggered the bite scene that night. By pure chance I rolled two natural ones on both those checks, and when it cut to the next morning and Tav was outright DEAD, we couldn't stop laughing! We had no idea what to expect or what the consequences would be, and when I switched to a SP campaign so I could horrifically binge this game like the gremlin I am, I felt compelled to recreate that glorious, character-defining moment.

However, as you note, that does mean you miss out on that lovely post-feed conversation where everyone says they're okay with him. On the other hand, you get that absolutely flat read of "Oh no. Something terrible happened here. :|" and then you get to punch him, so, you know, basically equal losses on either path. I know you get a ton of approval points after with the survival track, but I'm finding I'm not hurting for approval even in early game (I actually had to go and mod his approval 15 points lower about halfway through Act 1 this run because I was triggering his romance scene too early ahead of the party).

I actually need to probably sit down and write out the details of what happens here, but I do think a couple things take place. I know for sure that Tav fails the checks & doesn't fight it because she gets sucked into the feeling of relaxation and lethargy and the sense that nothing matters anymore. She spends most of Acts 1 & 2 fairly certain they're going to die any day, so why not live life to the fullest and do whatever you want in the moment without thinking about the consequences? If she's going to go out early anyway, why not to a relatively painless vampire bite instead of the agony of ceremorphosis? She probably realizes she's dying in those last seconds, but it's very much a "finally" instead of "oh no," so it's not really any skin off her nose.

I'm almost certain Astarion is shocked out of his mind when her heart stops. I don't think he realizes what's happened until he sits back and she's ice-cold and smiling, and his first instinct is to run off into the dark ASAP before everyone else wakes up and shanks him. Except because this happens IN THE MIDDLE OF CAMP, LARIAN, I think someone sees the whole thing go down and realizes Astarion didn't mean to do it and Tav was a brick-thick idiot who leaned all the way into her own death.

On pondering, I kind of think it was Shadowheart, who is utterly disgusted with both of them but who also knows she can bring Tav back with a scroll and does so without much drama. She'd be the kind of person to see what was going on, but who doesn't care enough to intervene or go "hey everything okay over here I can't help but notice you're engaging in some risky behavior", but who also wouldn't leap to TIME TO KILL ASTARION the moment it went too far.

I think Tav wakes up with a raging headache, and now that there are suddenly consequences she can't immediately brush off, she gets embarrassed and mad. Cue the punch, the argument, and probably everyone else waking up in the aftermath. Lae'zel initially wants to boot him from the group, I think, but Tav's anger burns out pretty quick (and she's pretty aware of her own failures to stop him), and she points out that if they're going to saddle themselves with Wyll's, Gale's, and her own baggage, it'd be pretty hypocritical to dump Astarion over his. So we still get some defense of him to the group, and I think Karlach (and probably Wyll, and honestly maybe Shadowheart who saw his fear) would be onboard with keeping him around pretty quickly. Promises never to do it again, keep your teeth to yourself, etc.

Astarion I think spends this entire conversation very, very scared and doing everything he can to hide it. I think he's completely overwhelmed by euphorically feeding on a thinking creature for the first time and then completely horrified by killing her - not because he likes her but because what if this is why Cazador commanded us not to, what if I can't control myself on my own without his compulsion, what if I really am the beast he's always said. He's panicking from the outrageous swings of emotion and talking really quickly and trying to put up a bold front, but inside he's about half a hair from snapping off into the woods and never coming back.

I think it's the punch that kind of shocks him out of the spiral, and then Tav then defending him to the group helps him flip into the "well obviously I deserve to stay and in fact to kick me out of the group would be not only stupid, but deadly" mode long enough to get through the night. He tries to put on the usual devil-may-care indifference, even though everyone can see through it, and they have a tense few days where everyone's pretending everything is fine even though it's really, really not.

Astarion & Tav are also avoiding each other religiously here, until something happens in a battle (the harpies, I think) and one of them gets injured because of that avoidance. That night, Tav stakes him to the ground and makes them talk about it. I think this is where she says she's not actually averse to him feeding on her and in fact asks him to do it that night - to get them both over the hump of what happened the first time. Astarion needs to feed without fear & she needs to not get swept up in the lethargy, and if he's going to get back to the sneering equilibrium he ought to have in the first and second acts, he needs to be successful at this and he needs to feel like he's won, or at least like he has an edge over her again. She's a little transparent about wanting to be bled in part to help him get back to this position of control, and in part because she does like forgetting the weight of reality, and in part because, again, they're gonna die in like twelve hours, surely, so who cares?

Anyway, it goes as well as it can for the two of them, even if they're both a little prickly throughout, and by the end they're a lot more comfortably back in that manipulative space they prefer. From there it moves on compliantly with canon into the party leadup (Loviatar and such) and then the party itself, and then progresses as scheduled with the rest of the game.

Ahh, it's so fun to think about these kinds of things. I'll continue to ponder, but I think this is either it for them or very close. Thank you so much for asking and for letting me ruminate! <3

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Okay, so. This is the first of the broken twitter threadfics. The reasons I picked it to post are A) it broke at a relatively good ending point, and B) I was doing this as an experiment to see if I could keep myself from planning out where a story was going to go before writing it, and twitter's fuckery effectively kneecapped that. So, here it is!

----------

(“Why can’t you be more like-”)

A month before he’s supposed to attend the lectures, Nie Huaisang is nowhere to be found in the Unclean Realms.

In his wake are a pair of boxes for his brother and Meng Yao, each of which contains a cheerily biting note that since they each clearly want him to become the other, he’s giving them what they’ve always wanted!

Each other.

Without him in the middle.

Meng Yao is unnerved by this sudden disappearance, but anyone he mentions it to, Nie Mingjue included, just rolls their eyes. 

it's a bratty tantrum, nothing more. 

Huaisang will be back by dinner, complaining of being hungry. 

The rest of the day passes.

Then another. 

Then a week. 

The time for Huaisang and the other disciples his age to leave for the Cloud Recesses comes and goes, and still no one knows where he is. 

An uncomfortable heaviness develops in the air inside the fortress. 

Everyone can tell that everyone else is worried, but nobody will broach the subject because Nie Mingjue (though clearly the most worried of all) is stubbornly refusing to discuss it. 

When a letter comes from Gusu asking why Nie Huaisang never arrived for classes even though Nie Mingjue was adamant he would keep attending until he passed, it gets crumpled and tossed into the fire without a reply. 

Meanwhile, whatever sort of relationship Huaisang thought his brother and Meng Yao were forming based on the weird backhanded praise of each other/putdowns towards him doesn't happen. 

It's too awkward. 

Both retreat entirely into bland professionalism and if a topic doesn’t have to do with work, they don't bring it up. 

(Meng Yao doesn't understand why Huaisang was convinced he was pushing to get close to Mingjue in such a manner. Huaisang knew about his plans to eventually join his father, what could possibly make him believe-? 

But with Huaisang no longer there to be a distraction while he's working, he finds his brain replaying certain events, and gradually starting to see them from a different perspective. 

And… he doesn’t like what he sees.

For all he'd claimed repeatedly to be a neutral party in the brothers’ arguments, he... wasn't. 

Even on the occasions that he was personally more sympathetic to Huaisang’s side of the matter, he'd always pushed him to be the one to back down and give in. Be an obedient little brother. 

Behave.

Which... he can't be blamed for that, surely. 

As much as Huaisang liked him, Huaisang wasn't his primary employer. it made logical sense that- 

-No. 

That's where he'd gone wrong. 

He should have either truly remained neutral by telling both brothers it wasn't his place to get involved, or he should have told Huaisang why he felt compelled to take Nie Mingjue’s side so often. 

But instead, he'd willingly taken up that center role, and then- 

Ah. 

What a mess.)

—

As the days of the summer and early fall tick by, Meng Yao finds himself... keeping an eye out. 

Not searching (no one will admit to doing that, especially not Mingjue), just... hoping. 

Huaisang has always despised winter and what it does to his health, surely once the weather starts to change for the worse, he will- 

Huaisang still doesn't come back. 

(It's getting harder and harder not to dwell on how much he misses Huaisang. 

How much of a mistake he made. 

He should have- 

If only he had- 

His… his friend is gone. 

Now he only has coworkers. 

And while he gets along with... most of them fairly well nowadays, it isn't the same. 

It isn’t the same at all.) 

—

They have been monitoring the movements of the Wen sect day in and day out, but it still catches them by surprise when it isn't inside their borders that the first blatant act of war is committed. 

Meng Yao goes out among the scouts to make sure they are well-supplied with flares and messenger tokens and everything else they will need to keep the flow of information strong. 

(He does not say that he is looking for Huaisang, but he does not have to.

He does not find Huaisang, but he does bring home Mingjue's friend from the Lan sect, bruised and filthy and exhausted. 

He decides he likes Lan Xichen well enough, but-)

When the envoys from the Wen sect come to demand their heir, it is the first time Nie Mingjue says out loud, to anyone, that they don't have one. 

For the briefest moment, Nie Huaisang is no longer a ghost, as every present member of the sect flinches. 

Their visitors do not.

Meng Yao is the only one who catches that they seem to have expected this answer. 

He doesn't like that at all. 

And when he tells them later, as they help the disciples who have volunteered to go pack what little they are being allowed to bring, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen like it even less. 

(That night, Meng Yao hears the door to the room beside his unlock for the first time in over a year. 

He curls himself into a ball under the blankets and pretends not to hear anything after that.) 

—

A week after their disciples have made it home after escaping from the indoctrination camp, (at the same time that Lotus Pier is burning), Meng Yao has gone out with the scouts again, this time with a disguised Lan Xichen among their numbers- 

-He wants to find his brother. Neither Nie Mingjue nor Meng Yao can begrudge him that, not when they are still- 

-and they overhear a loud scuffle and heated voices- 

"He fucking bit me! just slit the little bitch's throat already!" "You do it! And then you can explain to the boss why and see what that gets you!" 

"Let him go! He hasn't done anything!" "Stay out of it, or you can die in his place!"

The source of the fight is several men in white and red robes crowded around an unseen figure as villagers yell from the sidelines. 

One moves to the right, just long enough for Meng Yao to glimpse- 

It’s-

His whole body goes cold. 

It's- 

He moves without thinking, a borrowed sword in hand. He doesn't hear Lan Xichen's startled warning, but it doesn't matter, as the other man immediately follows. 

When he comes back to himself, there are five dead men on the ground and Nie Huaisang has thrown himself to his feet to run- 

-from them, just as much as he'd probably tried to escape the Wen. 

Spell music keeps him from getting more than a few steps before he drops into a heap right next to a sorry mess of bloody black feathers that has an arrow sticking out of it. 

The old man who'd done the most yelling looks like he might be ready to do more, and Meng Yao, still feeling numb and sick and a hundred other things, manages to regain himself enough to reassure him that they have no intention of harming- 

harming- 

It hits him that he has no idea what Nie Huaisang was calling himself here. 

Here, a tiny backwater village so close to the border between Qinghe and Qishan.

The complicated and messy swirl of emotions becomes distant... muted. He's still dizzy, but in a way that's like looking at the ground from up high. 

The fight took place in front of a book copy shop- 

"-er, yes, he does," the old man says, making Meng Yao realize he'd just asked if this person whose name he doesn't know works there. 

Ha. 

The only thing in the world that Nie Huaisang had ever hated as much as saber training was being forced to duplicate texts and rules and notes- 

-and he's here. 

Working and living in some nondescript copy shop.

Lan Xichen is saying something, and then the old man is speaking again, but Meng Yao comprehends none of it. Other Nie disciples have arrived and need to be caught up to speed, but he- 

He pushes his way into the shop, and then up the back stairs to the living quarters above it.

There are only four small rooms and it's easy to tell which one is-

-was- 

-is Huaisang's because it's the one that has three little wooden perches- 

-clearly built of scavenged branches, they are still the most well made things in the room- 

-arranged by the window and the door.

There is no wardrobe, just a couple of shoddy-looking boxes. The bed is... serviceable, which is the nicest word he can come up with. There is no wash basin, nor privacy screen. The shade over the window is so thin it would practically be useless in winter. A teapot and cup that look like they could crumble any moment sit on a tiny table that isn't in much better shape. 

Meng Yao... has been in this room before. 

Maybe not this specific room, but this room. 

It's the same room he lived in during every stop between the brothel and Koi Tower, between Koi Tower and the Unclean Realms, paying for what rest he could get by offering up his education or labor. 

And this room... 

This room is where... 

His fingers clench on the door frame. 

He inhales slowly, though whether to keep from laughing or throwing up, he isn't sure which. 

Oh... they had so badly underestimated how much resentment and hurt their failed -misguided- attempts at incentivization had brewed within Nie Huaisang. 

Nie Huaisang had been a boy who despised rote routine work, who loved soft and comfortable things, who always needed to be surrounded by people and animals for companionship, who got bitterly sick every time the weather turned cold. 

And yet he had been living in this room, with a job doing what he hated day in and day out, and only the one bird that had undoubtedly been shot out of the windowsill by a Wen arrow for company. 

He can't help but wonder if Huaisang had chosen this life specifically because it was so antithetical to everything the sect knew about him; because they'd never think to look in a place like this. 

Or if he had just decided that even this was preferable to letting anyone think he'd been cowed into crawling back home. 

Meng Yao is still nauseous when he stumbles back down the stairs to find the others waiting for him and Nie Huaisang, still unconscious from the spellsong, lying in the back of a small wagon the disciples have procured. 

"There was nothing worth bringing," he says in response to one man's question, and ignores Lan Xichen's query as to whether or not he is well. 

It's already been decided that he will be the one to take Nie Huaisang back to the closest camp, while the disciples will fly to the primary one further south to alert Nie Mingjue that his brother has been found. 

Although he knows he's been picked because his sword flight is still unsteady, he is fine with it. 

If anyone else had offered -or demanded- to take the wagon, that would be another story. 

Except for Lan Xichen, who has brought back the horses he and Meng Yao had been using to avoid being seen on their swords, the others take off once the Wen corpses have been moved away from the buildings and burned.

(Meng Yao probably should have supervised that, being the sect leader's aide. 

But that would have meant moving away from Nie Huaisang, and he… 

He just can’t-) 

They hitch the horses to the wagon. Before he climbs up into the saddle, Meng Yao takes off his cloak and wraps it around his- 

Not his- 

His young master. 

(How funny that, almost two years ago, he would have been the one who needed it more. 

How funny that, almost two years ago, Nie Huaisang would have had more than one and would have offered them all with a laugh and a gentle tease. 

How funny that-) 

If Lan Xichen notices him wiping his eyes as they nudge the horses to start down the road, he is kind enough not to mention it.

—

By the time they reach the camp, the spell song has worn off, but Nie Huaisang still sleeps- 

-and he does still sleep. Meng Yao's judgment may have been in grievous error in one painfully important category, but he can still easily tell when Huaisang is feigning in order to be left alone-

-heavily enough that his only reaction to being picked up by Lan Xichen is to pull the borrowed cloak tighter around himself like a turtle trying to shrink into its shell. 

"I'll make the report to the camp commander after taking him to the main infirmary tent," Lan Xichen says.

'Because I don't think you'd want to leave him alone long enough to do it,' Meng Yao hears. He nods, trying -badly- to hide his relief at the offer.

As they enter the tent, one of the medics turns to greet them, then his eyes go huge. 

"Is that-" 

"Not one more word," Meng Yao cuts him off, a little more sharply than he'd meant to. "No one is to find out he's here before Zongzhu arrives, got it?" 

The medic's mouth closes with an audible snap, then he recovers his composure and nods, gesturing to an empty cot. 

The results of the ensuing exam are... roughly what Meng Yao expected… because they are very similar to his own the first time he'd been ordered into a tent to have his medical baseline set when he’d joined the Nie camps. 

Except for the lungs. 

He is sitting close enough that he doesn't need the medic to tell him the soft, pained-sounding wheeze is not good. 

Again, his thoughts and his stomach begin to twist and tangle around the reversal of their fortunes and the dozens of other little itchy thoughts. His fingers tighten on the edge of the camp stool he's sitting on and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and just focus on inhaling- 

-and exhaling- 

-until the knots loosen up enough that he no longer feels like vomiting. 

Prying one hand away from his seat, he reaches out and takes hold of Nie Huaisang's colder one. 

When the first big winter storm had arrived and Nie Huaisang had not arrived with it, he had started to have dreams that were uncomfortable in more ways than one. Even now, gently rubbing his thumb over the other young man's ink and dirt-stained fingers, memories-not-memories from them flicker through his mind. 

He has no idea how Nie Mingjue will react to his brother's reappearance, but no matter what his sect leader decides, he can't- 

-won't- 

-can’t let Nie Huaisang disappear again. 

Even, he thinks as he lifts those cold fingers up to breathe warmth onto them, if he has to refashion an aviary into another kind of cage. 

—

It is just past nightfall when he hears the flutter of activity outside the tent. 

It is a familiar enough clatter to both of them that the noise makes Nie Huaisang stir. 

(He wants to be the first person Nie Huaisang sees. 

He wants to try and smooth things over before-

He wants-)

But there isn't enough time, and it's more important that he- 

He steps out of the tent right as Nie Mingjue is approaching. 

He bows to his sect leader, but keeps the tent flap held closed behind him. 

When he doesn't move aside, the faint scowl on Nie Mingjue's face deepens and he raises an eyebrow in a familiar expression of 'What do you think you're doing?' 

"Zongzhu," Meng Yao replies to the unspoken question. "Will you hear my report first?" 

His words are deferential, holding none of the direct defiance that his position does, but the combination of the two is enough to give Nie Mingjue pause, his expression shifting from annoyance to curious concern before he nods. 

Meng Yao keeps it short, but painfully blunt, emphasizing where and how Nie Huaisang had been living, and how close to danger and for how long. 

"I would not be so presumptuous as to give you directions on how to handle this. But he was already prepared to bolt from-" me "-us as if we were just as much of a threat as the Wen. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that if you storm in there and immediately start dressing him down, then-" unless you let me lock him away "-it will be the last time you ever see him, let alone get the chance to talk to him,” he finishes quietly.

Then he steps aside and lets go of the tent flap.

Although he doesn't want to leave, he knows that if they -even accidentally- give Huaisang the impression that they are immediately falling back into the old pattern, this will be a disaster. 

So he forces himself to walk away from the tent. 

He should really see about acquiring food anyway. Though he'd had some travel rations on his person, he hadn't been able to make himself eat since they'd found Huaisang, and Huaisang- 

The many ways their fortunes have been reversed hits him again, and he swallows hard to keep from bringing attention to himself by hysterically laughing... or something even more embarrassing. 

Okay. 

Food. 

Concentrate on that. 

Though it grates on him to do so, he purposely takes the time to eat his own meal at the kitchen tents, even dragging it out a little longer than normal. 

Just as he finishes eating, he finally catches a glimpse of Nie Mingjue headed towards the main command tent. 

His sect leader's expression is tense, but not angry or panicked. His tone, from what Meng Yao can hear, is a little sharply clipped, but there is no real bark to the orders he's giving. 

Meng Yao will take those as good signs. 

Collecting a tray of simple dishes and jars of pressed juice and water, he heads back to the infirmary tent where he'd left Huaisang.

He doesn't find Huaisang there- 

-he's fled, the fight was worse than anticipated, they won't- 

-but is relieved to find he's only been moved to one of the smaller side tents. It's fine- it's good, even. Fewer people will see him this way. 

Huaisang is sitting on the little cot he's been given, facing away from (him) the entrance. He's huddled under one of the spare blankets, the cloak Meng Yao had wrapped him in folded up and laid on the end of the thin pallet mattress. 

(That bothers him. 

Sits in the back of his brain like another little itch. 

"Why don't you want- it, Huaisang?" bubbles up in the back of his throat, and he has to force it back down.) 

"I owe you an apology," Huaisang says suddenly, surprising Meng Yao into looking up from the small camp table he'd been setting up for the food. 

(His voice has become as small as the rest of him, Meng Yao's mind notes with a discomforting mix of emotions. Small and rough and raspy- is it because the reunion with his brother brought tears with it? Or is that just how he sounds now? Does he really want to know?) 

"Whatever for?" Meng Yao asks after shoving all that turbulence into the little chest in his mind to join the rest of it and pretending it's not going to be overstuffed and refuse to close soon. 

"I never paid attention to how hard your job was. I just made it worse." 

He finds himself glancing at those ink and dirt stained fingers again, now clutching the edge of the blanket so tightly. 

Reversal of fortunes. 

Some little part of him is satisfied by the recognition, of the acknowledgment, but the rest- 

if this is the result of another fight- if this apology was somehow forced by Nie Mingjue- 

He bites his tongue for a moment to quell the swell of unexpected irritation. "There's nothing to apologize for in that regard. At most, you could be exasperating on occasion… but more often than not, you were the only one reminding me to care for myself," he says, reaching over to pick up the folded cloak and wrap it around Huaisang's shoulders over the blanket. 

Better. 

He looks much better with that (mark of possession). 

"I have no idea how many times I forgot to stop for a meal or any other necessities without you there to insist." 

The mention of food earns a sharp, unmistakable growl, and Huaisang ducks his head as he huddles deeper into the borrowed blanket and offered cloak, his unbound hair doing little to hide his expression of uncomfortable embarrassment. 

Reversal of fortunes. 

Once upon a time, Nie Huaisang had offered him clothing from his own wardrobe and food swiped from the kitchens and Meng Yao had struggled to politely decline out of fear that bounds were being overstepped and he would be the one to get in trouble for it. 

Now however... now, he understands. 

Whether or not Huaisang had felt the same possessiveness back then that Meng Yao is grappling with now is an interesting, but ultimately unimportant, question. 

But he understands. 

And, just as Huaisang once had, he will not allow refusal.

He takes a seat on a little stool across from Huaisang and offers one of the dishes he'd brought, a fairly simple combination of steamed rice, roasted chicken, and greens with only a little bit of seasoning. 

Even though growing up in Yunping had given him a fairly high tolerance for spice, he remembers all too well how much it had hurt to eat too much good food at once after months going on the minimum, and he has no desire to make Huaisang similarly sick. 

"Don't rush. We've got time." 

Nie Huaisang's mouth presses into a thin line, like he might disagree with that judgment. 

Curiosity lingers hot and fuzzy on the back of his neck- 

-what had the brothers said to each other?- 

-but he swats it aside and merely waits. 

He will not risk scaring his young master away by pressing him for information so soon after getting him back. 

Hunger eventually wins over discontent, and Huaisang reaches out to accept the food. 

He eats in a stilted, almost wooden way that is so very alien to how he used to be, but so very familiar to Meng Yao. It is another addition to the list of things that he wants to- will fix. 

Huaisang's hair falls back into his face as he hunches over the bowl, and Meng Yao finds himself impulsively reaching to brush it back. 

Huaisang flinches at the contact, and they both go still, staring at each other, Meng Yao's hand still outstretched. 

He should pull back. 

Give space. 

He doesn't want to. 

But no matter how much their situation has changed, their nominal statuses dictate he must.

Just as he starts to withdraw, however, Huaisang lets out an unsteady breath and tilts his head just enough to maintain contact. 

Without a single spoken word, it's a lonely plea and an apology and forgiveness and so many other things rolled up into a little ball of bruised and battered emotions. 

It makes Meng Yao almost dizzy, and he can't contain the smile that blooms on his mouth as he indulges in what he's been offered, sweeping his fingers along Huaisang's cheek to tuck his hair back behind his ear. 

All too quickly, however, the flutters of almost-giddiness fade as he remembers their situation is still hanging precariously on a thread as thin as spider silk. 

But any discussion of what will happen next for them can -will have to- wait until the food is gone. 

They fall into an awkward silence as Nie Huaisang finishes the bowl of food and a jar of water. He quickly looks away when he realizes Meng Yao has caught him eyeing the second dish with apprehensive longing. 

"Here," Meng Yao says, offering one of the jars of juice instead. "It won't be as heavy on your stomach." 

Nie Huaisang hesitates, the expression on his face unreadable as he looks at it, then at Meng Yao- 

-Meng Yao wants to ask, he wants to ask, he can’t ask- 

Then he takes it from Meng Yao's hands and tilts it up to swallow a mouthful. 

Meng Yao unconsciously mimics the swallow. 

there is something- 

-something- 

-one thing that still eats at him, but he is struggling to let it out of where he's kept it caged in his chest. 

He is very, very good at offering apologies as a matter of politeness. 

He has never been as good at offering apologies out of sincerity. 

"Gongzi-" he starts only for his voice to die in his throat when green eyes regard him over the rim of the jar. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

Try again. 

"I... I have missed you, Huaisang," he says. 

It is not what he intended to say. 

It is not what he was supposed to say. 

It's an entirely different but equally difficult level of vulnerability; one he hadn't been trying so hard to hide because he'd never expected it to attempt escape to begin with. 

He had recognized too much of himself in this changed Huaisang, and that familiarity had momentarily lured him into a false sense of… of…

His first instinct is to take it back. 

Cover his too-exposed heart with his usual deferential politeness, smile and offer a more neutral comment. 

"I missed you too," Huaisang says quietly before he can do any of that. 

Meng Yao exhales sharply, the air punched out of his chest as surely as if Nie Huaisang had buried a fist into the soft spot below his sternum, and he has to look away before he can let it show how starkly he has been affected. 

He is still pulling himself together when he sees one of the captains who'd been accompanying Nie Mingjue earlier poke his head into the tent. 

The man looks around for a moment before his gaze lands on them, and he gives a quick jerk of his head in a silent demand. 

Meng Yao hesitates. 

As emotionally fraught as this had just become, he doesn't want to leave. They still have that- 

-that one thing that they have to talk about, and if he leaves now, they might not ever- 

"Better go," Nie Huaisang says, and when Meng Yao turns his head, his young master is once again wearing that expression Meng Yao cannot decipher. 

Meng Yao bites the inside of his lip, then reaches out and squeezes the hand not occupied with the jar. "I'll be back soon," he says. 

Nie Huaisang salutes him with the jar, the gesture too flippant for the look in his eyes. 

Meng Yao again finds himself wondering just what the brothers had said to each other. 

But he does not ask, instead getting up to follow the captain away from the infirmary and towards the tent where Nie Mingjue has temporarily taken up residence until he returns to the main camp.

—

Meng Yao frowns as he finishes reading the missive his sect leader has handed him. 

It is not the fact that Nie Huaisang is being sent back to the Unclean Realms that bothers him. Even if he were in better health, the time he's spent away from the sect has made him even less prepared for a fight. it's better for him to go- to go home. 

No, what bothers Meng Yao is the escort being sent with him. Only two guards, both only weeks out of no longer being classified as juniors, and a single healing assistant- not even a full-fledged medic. 

He knows that this wouldn't be enough of an escort for someone the Wen wasn’t even looking for, let alone someone they had already made a kidnapping attempt on. 

Suddenly, Huaisang's too-bland attitude and strange reactions make more sense, if this had been one of the things the brothers had discussed. 

(What had they said? 

What had they said? 

The prickle of curiosity has become a gnawing, but still he squashes it.) 

He rereads the missive twice over before it finally hits him. 

This is another manifestation of the- 

Not once had Nie Mingjue ever officially sent out search parties, or discussed his missing brother, or- or- 

(But Meng Yao, much as he'd pretended otherwise, very vividly remembers that midnight breakdown in Nie Huaisang's abandoned room.) 

A sect leader preparing for an inevitable war couldn't be seen as soft or weak by the enemy, nor his own. 

A sect leader in the middle of a war couldn't be seen as soft or weak by the enemy, nor his own. 

Nie Mingjue might have sorely missed his brother, but he also clearly believed that extending more than the barest minimum would be read as special treatment. Coddling, even. 

No matter how much this particular situation warranted a stronger approach. 

Meng Yao understands the politics of appearance all too well, so he gets it. He does. That doesn't stop him from wanting to beat his head against the table in frustration. 

Stubborn. 

Stubborn.

Gods, both of them are so- 

He takes a deep, slow inhale, then lays the paper down. "What are you going to do if this posturing for your men gets your brother killed?"

Nie Mingjue goes rigid, the line of his spine completely straight. 

The captain he was talking to is a smart man; his eyes go wide for the briefest moment, and then he turns around and walks out of the tent without a word. 

Meng Yao is acutely aware he's just stepped into dangerous territory. A few years ago, he never would have let that question escape his mouth. Instead, as soon as he’d finished reading the missive the first time, he would have immediately gone to cajole Huaisang not to make a fuss about the orders. 

Well, look where that had gotten them. 

"The only reason we found him at all is because Wen Ruohan had somehow figured out where he was first,” he presses.”And yet you're risking sending him right back into the jaws of the tiger to-" 

Nie Mingjue's hands clench into fists at his sides. 

Though the man has never so much raised his voice in Meng Yao's direction, the memories of all the shouting matches between the brothers make him involuntarily take a step back. 

But Nie Mingjue, apparently remembering his earlier advice, does not yell, though the curt, emotionless tone of the words "The orders will not be changed," is almost worse. 

This bullheaded-! 

Realizing he will get nowhere, that the fact there had been no shouting between the brothers this time really was the only concession Nie Mingjue had been willing -or perhaps 'been able' was the better description- to make, Meng Yao leaves him standing alone at the table of maps and missives and walks back to the infirmary. 

At the very least, he should make sure that Huaisang has warmer clothes for travel than the ones they found him in. 

–- 

Nie Huaisang and his pittance of an escort are up and ready to leave before dawn, hoping to get some ground covered while only the enemy’s night scouts are still on the hunt. 

Nie Huaisang doesn't make a peep of complaint about having to get up so early for what amounts to boring work, which only drives the knife of how much he has changed deeper between Meng Yao's ribs. 

(He knows Huaisang has to go. 

He wants him to stay.

He wants to go with him. 

He wants-) 

"Hu- Gongzi, may we speak?" he asks quietly. 

Huaisang stops pretending to not be watching his brother out of the corner of his eye and turns his attention to Meng Yao, then nods. 

Meng Yao's mouth suddenly goes dry under the quiet intensity of that green-eyed stare, but he gathers his nerves back together and ties them down tight. 

"I... I owe you an apology as well. You were right that I was only lying to both of us when I claimed not to be taking sides in your arguments. I should have stayed out of it. I'm... I'm sorry." 

There. 

He has said it. 

It is hardly the most eloquent apology he has ever given, but... again, sincerity is much more difficult than politeness. 

But it also seems to have been more effective. Huaisang blinks at him in surprise, tilting his head like a startled bird... then he takes hold of Meng Yao's hands and smiles.

It's small, unsure, almost as if he's forgotten how to do it. but it's there, and- 

"Thank you," he says, and "Apology accepted." 

Ha. 

Okay. 

Meng Yao does not embarrass himself by tearing up in front of everyone, but he comes close. He squeezes the hands holding his, ruthlessly smothering the sudden urge to kiss too-cold fingers 

-or do something more- 

-then steps back and lets go. 

He doesn't watch them leave. 

Neither does Nie Mingjue.

—

It has been six days. 

Even though he has remained diligent to his responsibilities as the sect leader’s aide, Meng Yao's mind keeps being distracted by the map he has drawn in his mind. 

Even on foot, even if there were a few small delays here and there, Huaisang and his escorts should arrive at the unclean realms by the next morning, so when sundown arrives, the nervous tension that's been humming through his nerves finally starts to ease…

And then, right in the middle of dinner, Nie Mingjue suddenly jerks as though he's been shot with an arrow. 

Meng Yao, Lan Xichen, and the small knot of disciples present all see the color drain from his face as he rips a talisman out of the collar of his inner robe- 

-and when Meng Yao sees the deep splotch of red blooming across the paper, his own heart drops. 

It's a bloodshed talisman. 

And they all immediately know who it has to be tied to. 

Meng Yao has never seen a human move so fast in his entire life. 

Nie Mingjue is already in the sky on Baxia before any of the rest of them are out of the tent. Even Lan Xichen can't catch him before he can no longer be seen in the darkness. 

Meng Yao inwardly curses his own faltering cultivation that leaves him unable to keep up with the others, but at least his mental map means he won't get lost because of the lag. 

He just hopes- 

He just hopes- 

He lands in the middle of a maelstrom of clashing metal and screaming horses, more than a little bewildered by the number of moving and dead bodies in the forest clearing. 

How the fuck had this many Wen managed to get this deep into Qinghe territory? Their scouts should have caught them long before- 

No matter. His sect leader and the others would deal with them. 

He has to find- 

There are two figures in green and grey lying among the more numerous white and red. The first, he immediately identifies as the medical assistant -(dead)- and the other- 

He rushes over and pulls a semi-conscious Nie Huaisang up onto his knees. The younger man is sluggishly bleeding from his nose and a second blow to the head that has bruised most of the right side of his face, and his wrists are also raw and bloody from struggling out of the ropes lying under him. 

"Yao-ge? When... Where did...?" he asks in a disoriented slur. 

(Later, Meng Yao will allow himself to be thrilled by the return of the endearment.) 

For now, he jerks Nie Huaisang out of the way of a falling Wen horse and then drags him towards the treeline. They're almost out of the fight zone when a sword whistles past, barely missing taking off Meng Yao's ear. 

Fortunately, its owner hits the ground dead before he can call it back to try again. 

With that last death cry, the clearing goes silent, they and the disciples and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue all staring at each other, almost dazed from the wearing off of the battle adrenaline. 

Then Nie Mingjue crosses the clearing with almost the same superhuman speed as before and jerks Nie Huaisang out of Meng Yao's hands, wrapping his brother in an embrace so tight that Nie Huaisang can't help letting out a small squeak of protest.

—

There is never a verbal apology. 

In fact, neither brother says a word during the (unsettlingly) short flight to the Unclean Realms. 

But neither of them lets go of the other for the entire flight either, and Meng Yao supposes that has to be enough for them. 

(He desperately hopes that it is enough for them.) 

The first time Nie Mingjue puts his brother down since that first desperate grab is when they land inside the courtyard, and even then, he has a solid grip on Nie Huaisang's shoulder. 

"Finally," Meng Yao hears a feminine voice mutter from amongst the staff who came running at their unexpected approach, before others immediately shush her. 

He bites his tongue to keep from smirking, but he hears a couple of the disciples with them have to choke back laughter. 

It is indeed a relief to finally have at least one of the many sources of tension in the realm eased. 

Though there is now another in its place, as he notices Nie Huaisang glance around warily, already growing stiff and uncomfortable in the place that hasn't been his home for some time now. 

This won't do. 

"Zongzhu," he says, mindful of how to balance the situation now. "Perhaps it would be best for everyone to rest before any discussion of important matters." 

"...Right," Nie Mingjue mutters awkwardly, then moves to dismiss the small crowd. 

He still hasn't let go of Nie Huaisang.

[alfiisha]

this is the rant i posted about john doe on twitter the other night

john doe as a character is so tragic because he has never known anything except from lunacy. he has only ever existed inside a literal madhouse, surrounded by the criminally insane, being told that his very nature is evil and wrong and something he needs to overcome all the while being harshly exposed to the realities of living with people who reflect your mental state so unapologetically. he had to watch people demonstrate behaviours he was told were forbidden, behaviours that HE yearned to act out and he didn’t even know why. he was never taught how to act around normal people. he was only taught to suppress his nature and be something he isn’t, and that’s why when he was let out, he couldn’t get a grip on the realities of a crime ridden city and had to turn to harley for security. he HAD to rely on other criminals because they did the things he was taught to be AFRAID of doing, without any consequences. and when he met bruce, who wanted to be like him, who wanted to help him, who had been in that SAME institution and yet was so successful and perfect, he fell into a bittersweet friendship. on the one hand, bruce cared about him and helped him with his problems and listened to him, things that no one had ever done before. on the other hand, bruce had ideas of justice and crime which contradicted john’s mental state and went against what his nature desired, with the added pressure of bruce’s secrets: being batman and being undercover as a ‘criminal’, getting close to the gang and john while actually working against them to bring them to his idea of justice. when john found out, not only did he instantly forgive bruce for keeping this secret, but he HELPED him to try to imprison those very criminals that helped him when he was released from arkham. and i think the reason he did this so easily was because arkham truly DID manage to break through to him, in some ways. they succeeded in internalising the idea that john had to be GOOD. he just didnt know what that ‘good’ meant, until bruce came along, a symbol of someone who had a black-and-white vision of right and wrong, good and bad, and who did the ‘right thing’ for others both in and out of costume, and he felt compelled to follow him in what he did: being his friend obviously influenced this decision too, because having a positive mindset about someone causes you to trust them as knowing better than you. and when he eventually goes on his murder spree under extreme stress and duress, he melts down because he thinks that not only has he let down bruce, he’s let down THE WORLD. he is reminded that he is NOT a functioning member of society, he is not NORMAL. he’s just like those other criminally insane people he was locked away with in arkham, he is no better than a crazed bloodthirsty lunatic, and nothing batman or bruce can say can change that. in that moment, john truly believes that he is doomed. if he can’t control his own actions, his own thoughts, his desires, his impulses, how the hell can he control himself while being batman’s accomplice? how can he keep a hold of himself when talking to his best friend, who makes him so excited and enthusiastic it’s hard to discern whether he’ll be able to control his violent tendencies whenever he feels strong emotion? john doe is uncontrollable. arkham can’t control him, harley can’t control him, the agency can’t control him, batman can’t control him, and he sure as hell can’t control himself. that’s what makes him so tragic. that’s what makes his story so sad, and so doomed. he was at a disadvantage from the start. he can’t function within the society that’s already built up around him and so he can’t function at all. so he chooses to let loose and do whatever the hell he wants, and where does it leave him? back where he started, in arkham, being taught the same lessons as last time, except now everyone treats him as though he’s stupider than he is and more dangerous than he ever wants to be.

[beardedmrbean]

TikTok star Montana Tucker has been using her platform to spread awareness about antisemitism in the months after the October 7 attack on Israel.

The singer, dancer and social media activist, who grew her social media following to 14 million by singing and dancing videos, recently made her Jewish heritage a bigger part of her content, she told Fox News Digital in an interview. Since October 7, she has recognized the need for more education about the history of antisemitism and Holocaust denialism among America's youth.

Tucker grew up in Boca Raton, Florida, with two grandparents who survived the Holocaust. They often told her about the horrors of the Holocaust and the importance of never forgetting the genocide of six million Jews during World War II. When her grandfather, whom she called Zadie, passed away at 97 four years ago, she felt compelled to continue his legacy by reminding people they should "never forget." 

Tucker visited Poland where she filmed a docuseries called "How to Never Forget" that was released in 10 mini-episodes on her social media. The series included a visit to Auschwitz and personal stories about her grandparents, with the goal of educating America's youth about the Holocaust. 

CHAMPION CYCLIST SAYS SHE WOULD SERVE IN IDF RIGHT NOW AMID REMOVAL FROM INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY EVENT

"Antisemitism has always been here, it has always been here," she said. "When I released that series, that was kind of the first time I introduced my followers really to my family's background. A lot of them never knew that I was Jewish. My name is Montana Tucker. My content, at the time, wasn't specifically Jewish content."

"Then a year later, with everything that happened on October 7, I felt that it was my responsibility, it was my duty to make sure that I share personal stories of what was happening," she continued. "This is my people, my grandparents didn't have a voice back during the Holocaust, and now I have a voice and I'm able to stand up for what I believe in and speak out for people who don't have a voice."

In December, Tucker went to Israel to meet with survivors of the October 7 attack and their families. She used the opportunity to spread the message of what happened and share their personal stories, which she said is of upmost importance given some have downplayed or denied certain aspects of the attack or attempted to justify it. 

"When I always heard Holocaust denial, I couldn't believe it," Tucker said. "That's why, with what's going on now in the world with all the denial, even though we were live-streamed what happened on October 7, there's still denial about it or still denial of what is going on. I never understood that concept of people denying something that was so obviously shown with evidence of survivors, but now living in it, people denying what happened on October 7, it's really scary and it's even more of a reason why I keep using my voice."

Tucker also said she has heard from people in Hollywood who've thanked her for what she has done in speaking out for Jewish people since October 7, but explained it makes her upset that people are afraid to share or talk about what they believe in. 

"I've had people in Hollywood come up to me that are, I'm here [motions down] and they're there [motions up], they're on a whole different level than me in their careers, and they come up to me and say, 'Thank you so much for what you're doing, you're amazing, you're really taking one for the team.' And I'm like, 'What do you mean? Like, have you shared anything? Have you posted anything?' And they said they did in the beginning [but] when they got so much hate from it and lost business, followers, whatever it is and now they're scared to post. In my mind I'm like ‘do hear how crazy that sounds?’"

"Especially when there are so many awesome, powerful Jews in Hollywood … I think people absolutely need to stop being scared," she said. "If you're going to lose business over you talking about being Jewish or you talking about innocent lives that were taken, then you shouldn't want to do business with those people. Point-blank."

Tucker pointed to social media as a huge reason why antisemitism has been allowed to proliferate, making it "popular to be anti-Israel" and "popular to be anti-Jew." 

"With Gen Z and younger generations, we live in this day and age of what's trending, what's popular and if you look at popular hashtags on these apps ... #hitlerwasright was a massive trending hashtag on TikTok, #osamabinladen was a massive trending hashtag on TikTok, all pro-Palestine content was super trending, billions of views, versus Israel or anything to do with pro-Israel was like super, super low."

She said a lot of people discussing the conflict on social media aren't educated on the issues, so when an average user comes across a viral video with 30 million views sharing one person’s opinion about Israel or Gaza, "all of a sudden now it's a ripple effect of everyone that just saw that video now believes that because they don't know better."

Tucker said the impact of social media needs to be taken seriously, since it is where so much information is shared and news is consumed, allowing antisemitism to proliferate in the months following October 7. 

"Even with October 7, think about if we didn't have social media nowadays, how different that could have been with what spiraled after," she said. "I think what happened on October 7 was the start, and now we're a hundred and how many days in, and it's only gotten worse with everyone's opinions and everyone's thoughts in these videos … being fed to people every single day [there is] so much propaganda that I see."

"Fortunately, I heard from survivors, but my grandma was 13 when she was taken to the Holocaust, and she's 95 [now], so in a few years, there are going to be no more survivors left," she said. "Imagine the denial that's going to happen then with literally no survivors."

Tucker said one of the ways to combat antisemitism is to teach America's youth about the Holocaust in schools.

"I grew up in Florida, which is one of the states that did have it, thankfully, and my grandparents used to speak at all the schools … But there are a lot of people who don't," she said. "It's hard to blame these kids that just genuinely don't know better because they weren't taught it in school."

"Then they come across this TikTok video that denies the Holocaust or says Jews are terrible … and that's all they're going to know and that's all they're going to believe," she said. "If their favorite rapper or their favorite athlete spews out antisemitic comments, they look up to that athlete, they look up to that rapper, they're going to say, 'That must be true.'"

Tucker encouraged Americans to do their own research and continue to learn about the long and difficult conflict in Israel and the Middle East. She also said people should be easier on each other because there is "so much hate" in the world and in the U.S., specifically. 

[taylortruther]

Yk with the added context of the Matty-Taylor relationship timeline, I was compelled to go back and reconsider certain songs from her discography and see them differently. Obviously we have The 1, Cardigan, Question..?, Glitch etc but what about the 1989 vault?

I have a strong belief that Taylor re-touches, if not fully edits the vault tracks before the album releases (as evidenced by the punchline lyric on ATW10MV).

Ofc, we don't know for sure, but in Now That We Don't Talk there's that line about the muse "growing his hair long" and Harry hadn't done that till late 2014 (atleast to a noticeable extent) so I felt that maybe that song was written later on.

Anyways, listening to TTPD got me thinking some thoughts. Like Taylor is very deliberate with her word usage on the songs. In Down Bad, the lyric "How dare you say that it's..." is supposed to be auto-filled with the word "over". This instantly made me think of Is It Over Now?

Was "Slut!" about Matty too? I mean if the rumours of a 1975 feature on that song were true, then obviously it has a connection to them? Also, I've always felt it was weird to have that song be about Harry for so many reasons, but whatever.

I mean ofc there's glaring references to Harry on the album, but by now we know that Taylor likes to merge her muses for a single song. She even liked a Tumblr post back in 2015 that related STYLE of all songs to Matty. Not a joke. Twitter recently rediscovered it and went nuts over it.

I feel like many songs we attributed to Harry over the years was just about Matty. I mean it always bothered me how much Taylor seemed to be affected by a 2 month situationship with an 18 year old all the way back in 2012. I mean she never brought up Kennedy or Lautner or Tom like she did with Harry in her later works....now we know that it was most likely Matty.

One part of me believes that So It Goes was also bout him. I mean "you did a number on me" means to mess someone up in a bad way, and I have no idea why she would put that lyric in there otherwise.

Also Ivy and Illicit Affairs were widely regarded to be about the Calvin-Tom-Joe situation...but in retrospect they might've been about Matty. These might sound like mindless rumours to most, but keep in mind that Guilty As Sin and Fresh Out The Slammer exist. Both Ivy and Illicit Affairs were fictional songs, but they expressed her inner feelings (swirled you into all my poems). Again, just theorizing here.

i guess he could be ~swirled~ into a few songs from 1989 tv (anything is possible! we didn't know the full story until the red vault! disclaimer!), but mostly i think what you are picking up on is that... taylor has a pattern in her relationships. and she has stories she tells herself about relationships, or herself, just like we all do, which create songs that share many themes.

like, obviously i don't know taylor, and i could be wrong about anything i write about her lyrics. but while ivy could be about matty (anything is possible!), i think it makes more sense that she has, on a few different occasions, left a dying relationships only after another person she liked came into her orbit. and this isn't even uncommon. lots of people only leave relationships when they have someone in the wings, or they've met someone who makes them realize the grass might be greener.

[possessesnightshift]

my lord seeing all the posts talking about not voting for joe biden like...

im not even gonna push my personal opinion. i just want people to take the time to earnestly reflect about what they're deciding to do

as in. just think "what is the impact of my decision?" think about what would come about if you voted for biden, or against biden, or third party, or (likely the most popular other option ppl want to pursue) didn't vote AT ALL.

then reflect on the actual issues that matter enough to sway your vote. think about palestine. think about queer liberation & disability advocacy. think about the writer's strike and the actors strike and unionizing. think about the environment. the fucking economy. basically anything that's defined the political landscape of the 2020s.

and then circle back to "what is the point of making this specific choice?" in regards to voting in the 2024 election. if you want to make any of these issues better, ask yourself if those changes will be easier to make under a trump administration or a biden administration. would trump be better for palestine than biden? the environment? the economy? even if he's worse than biden in a lot of areas, is there one special issue that could push him over the edge? what are you trying to accomplish with this vote (or lackthereof)?

the reason i felt compelled to lay it all out in this specific manner is quite simple. i want to emphasize something important.

i feel like a lot of people planning to protest their vote for Joe Biden see themselves as possessing a moral high ground with respect to our corrupt political system. by refusing to participate and play the game, you're avoiding complicity in a machine designed to grind people up and spit out their bodies for the sake of profit. i get it. i know exactly why you don't want to take part in something so horrible.

but you DO.

even if you don't want to. you are a part of this system.

withholding a vote isn't exempting you from anything. you are still making a decision. a decision that impacts your life, the lives of those around you, and of course the lives of people overseas caught up in our country's colonialist bullshit

i promise you nobody is keeping score. you won't get extra woke points in heaven because you didn't vote for someone who does bad things. say hypothetically we lived in a country like australia with compulsory voting, and protesting your vote was literally not an option. what would people say then? would the anti-genocide crowd encourage you to vote for trump? vote third party? do these choices make sense??

because at the end of the day, we have 2 choices. we can continue sucking ass. or we can bring in someone else to suck ass EVEN HARDER.

i'm not sure what i can say beyond this much. i get how easy it is to turn off your brain and rail against anyone challenging an opinion that, from your perspective, feels beyond the realm of criticism. these people do not have bad intentions. our brains can't think in terms of stupid political games. we see a man encouraging a genocide running for re-election, and the LAST thing we want to do is reward him.

but the system is illogical by design. (see electoral college for more info.) you can't make it make sense. these people in power aren't gonna buckle to your pressure based on morality or shame because they have none. they know exactly what the fuck is going on. they know what they're doing, and they're doing it on purpose.

if republicans can accept that holding your nose and playing the bs voting game can make the system work in their favor, why the fuck can't college educated socialists come to the same conclusion?

whatever you decide to do come november, just be honest about why you're doing it. whether it's about gaza or trans people or even just the prices of groceries always increasing, it doesn't matter. i know what change i want to see in the world, and i'm doing what i can to help move the needle in that direction.

[brigittttoo]

If you are still taking prompts for the ask game: What about 🌿 💞 💌? Whichever you'd like, no pressure at alll -- 🤍@smoosey

Hi @smoosey ! Definitely still answering prompts this fine morn <3 (q's from this ask game)

🌿How does creating make you feel?

Creating makes me feel like I'm putting puzzle pieces together and it's very satisfying! Figuring out what pieces fit together, how to construct something in a compelling way -- and this is applicable I think to my sewing projects as well as writing ones. I can daydream about the mechanics of a clothing pattern or a story plot very happily.

💞What's the most important part of a story for you?

Especially if it's an AU, the worldbuilding is pretty important to me. For example, I was never that into DC Comics media because for some reason Gotham/Metropolis/whatever never felt fleshed out enough? They just sort of existed as isolates in some sort of general USA ether that I just couldn't get past to ever become invested in the stories or characters (I know this is very weird of me). So when I write a story, making sure I have a sufficiently solid grasp of the surrounding contextual world feels very important to me.

As well, characters and the way they interact with and know about this world is probably the next biggest part. Having a firm grasp of what a character does and doesn't know contributes to writing what a character would or wouldn't say or do -- keeping in mind the fact that the reader may or may not know things already about the world or the story too! These moving parts can make or break a story for me tbh. I'm reading a book right now that commits the crime of having a character experience an event in front of the reader and then two seconds later tell another character details of the event that just happened. I know character 2 needs to be told, but I just read everything that happened! I don't need to be told again! It becomes tiring.

💌 Share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I have one WIP right now that has been put on the back burner while [major but positive real life changes] happen. I am still very excited about it though, and think about it a lot; it's a combination of tomb raider style adventures and star wars universe aid missions, with a post-war codywan pairing. Without being too spoiler-y, I'm trying to experiment with different relationship stages as well as different framing circumstances, and it's another slight foray into horror story elements. I think I've found a good little snippet for you:

Cody doesn’t know why, but he thinks about the couple days after the battle on Moon L13-B2, when Obi-Wan just held him. His shoulders had fit just under Obi-Wan’s arms, chests half-overlapping on the bunk, Obi-Wan’s hand on the back of his neck. His robes had been so warm. He thinks about that moment while he run-stomps through the brambles, his own breath sounding loud inside the respirator, eyes trained on that gap in the fence where the bridge is. He can’t see Feliks very well, and he keeps having to look down at his feet so he doesn’t trip, and all he can think of is being held, that quiet rise and fall of breathing.