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herr-stick · 1 year

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⸝⸝˚₊・𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚, 𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙩. ₊˚⊹

Hello. *stares menacingly*

I am zooming through with Tang Twins angst, enjoy!

caution: the fanfiction below contains *my* takes and headcanons.

December has arrived to Gyrate; the temperature low, but the holiday spirit high already, a ridiculous contrast compared to the previous month.

It has already started snowing, steady and not stopping, covering the whole city with a thick layer of sparkling white blanket. It's quite busy despite the relentless snow, people rushing to get things done and escape into the comfort of their own homes.

A few kids are playing tag in the park near the Union building: stumbling in the thick snow that reaches their small knees, running and yelling until they have to catch their breath. Their voice rings through the monotone noise of traffic, laughter filling the air and bringing color into the gray canvas of the day.

Tang Xuan, a big fan of the winter season, excitedly steps out from the warmth of the Union's lobby to the cold and slippery street. He's dressed in thick, warm clothes from head to toe, afraid of catching a cold-it could prevent him from his heroic duties, and he considers that worse than a curse. He pulls his bright orange scarf tight over his chin as he spins around, looking back at the front door of the Union. There stands four of his colleagues: Lewis, Li Ling, Mona, and last but not least, Tiye, who was more than excited to join their little gang for a nice walk in the city. She's holding onto Li Ling's arm, chatting away whatever comes to her mind as she floats next to him.

Xuan spreads his arms, a wide grin across his already red cheeks; he's already getting a bit cold, but he will not give up a single opportunity of hanging out with his friends, no matter what.

"Let's go while it's still snowing!"

He exclaims, the orbs floating around his neck lighting up to reflect his mood. The bunch starts walking towards him, Lewis taking his place next to his smaller form.

"It looks like it's gonna snow all day, slow down."

An impossible request, for Xuan is filled to the brim with the joy of spending time with his friends – how could he slow down? There's no time for that!

"No rest for the Wicked, as they say,"

Ling chimes in, twirling Tiye around by her hand, making her give a slight laugh in response. His statement is somewhat true, but for the Wicked part, Xuan would like to call himself Righteous. Yes, that fits more, truly.

Copying the other two, he takes Lewis' hand in his own, giving it a slight squeeze as he tugs him forward.

"Come on! We don't usually get a day off like this!"

And he's right. When was the last time they had an opportunity to go out as a group? So long ago, even the memory of it feels so far away…He craves to make more.

"If I knew you all were to hold hands, I would've brought Lucas with me."

Mona fake-complains, totally ignoring the redhead's sentence as she skips over to Tiye's side, taking her free hand in hers.

"Wow, you're freezing!"

Tiye just laughs, swinging their intertwined hands between them nonchalantly.

"That's why Ling-Ling is here! He keeps me warm, his hand is scorching!"

"Let me guess, the Universe is content, Starshine?"

Said man sports a proud grin, as if he just won first place at something. The girl laughs again, nodding slighly.

"Indeed!"

They begin their walk towards the nearby park, conversing about a lot of different things: missions they have completed, missions yet to come, shows and games they should invest in together – although with their busy schedules, they all know it's not going to happen anytime soon.

They talk about the weather, what to get to eat later in the evening, what to gift each other when Christmas rolls around; all mundane things that they wouldn't even consider in other circumstances.

Xuan wonders…If they wouldn't have been blessed, would they…still have met each other? Would he still be able to hold Lewis' hand? Would Mona still invite him to sleepovers? Would Tiye braid his hair, or would Ling challenge him to eat deadly spices?

On the whole trip there he thinks, hard and focused about what would have happened if things were different in the past, not listening nor chiming into the other's conversation.

If he hadn't been blessed…

"Mei…"

A voice, some so familiar yet so very unknown, a whisper, calls out.

He freezes in his place, head turning so fast he can hear his neck cracking—

Finding himself face-to-face with a dark alley, with people hurriedly coming and going–Some push past him, grumbling about being in the way–,the scent of something familiar filling his nose as he tries to work out if he had heard it correctly.

In his quick stop, he doesn't realize that he had been standing there for more than a minute, and that Lewis had long ago let go of his hand;

He's alone.

In an alleyway.

In the middle of an ocean formed from hurried strangers.

He hears it again.

"Mei."

It's louder this time, more powerful, as if the owner of the voice knows he's listening.

He's about to shake it off as paranoia, turning to run after his bunch…

Then, he sees him.

Standing atop of a small corner shop, back hunched and staff in hand, stands the one he had craved yet dreaded to see again.

Tired, deep violet eyes look straight into his own, a gaze that pierces through his entire core.

He suddenly can't breathe; his chest feels heavy, his mouth dry, all thoughts disappearing from his brain except one:

"Yun…"

A bus passes by Xuan, and he realizes that he's standing too close to the edge of the sidewalk, stumbling back in suprise. But when it's gone, so is his brother – nowhere to be seen, his earlier spot as empty as the gaze he was sporting.

After all this time…He saw him again. He looked so pale, so thin…a completely different Yun than the one who had abandoned him.

No, he abandoned her, not me…

The redhead, despite his best efforts, falls to his knees, ignoring the worried shouts of the passerbys who notice his behavior. He can't hear them over his amplified heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears, can't see them over the tears that form in his eyes;

All he sees is the memories he had lost to the past, the grim reminders of what he had lost over his own ignorance.

A little boy, bruised up from falling from a tree, holding onto his sister as he cries his pain away, his little fists holding her blouse in a death grip;

A boy, now smiling as he runs around, forgetting about all the pain and suffering of the world, enjoying the summer evening as the sun sets in the backyard;

A boy, always trailing behind, head hung low as he tries to catch up to his elder, his heart crying out for her to notice his efforts.

An Esper. A boy. A brother. Enraged and very very sad as tears roll down his cheeks, throwing words he does not mean but can't help to say, otherwise his heart might as well break. He's been silent for too long.

"You are not my sister anymore!"

"The next time I see you, I'm going to kill you. I will not rest until you're dead before me!"

Xuan is crying, hunched over on the cold sidewalk; his bright red hair slowly fading into a dark blue, the skin on his face becoming as pale as the very snow under his palms, scars his words and actions caused spreading all over his vulnerable soul.

"It wasn't me, it wasn't…! It wasn't…"

He tries to speak, but his brain is foggy: he doesn't know what to say, what excuse to make to bring justice for his past wrongdoings. Deep down he knows it was him; whether Tang Mei or Tang Xuan, but the same heart did abandon its other half; leaving it in the dark alone while it soared in the light with grace.

A pair of warm hands yank him off the ground. The scent of a flower he holds dear hits his nostrils, and a voice, shaky and panicked echoes in his ears as it addresses him.

"He's so pale…The Universe says he's in distress..!"

He had never heard Tiye this…worried, he realizes. Yet, he can't bring himself to care yet, fighting tooth and nail to not pass out.

"Damnit, not again! Xuan, can you hear me? Hey, it's okay-"

Lewis.

"Tiye, back out a bit, you're crowding him-"

Li Ling.

"I'm calling for Director Raven-"

Mona…

He sits up, the speed of his movement making the world spin around him like a deadly carousel, gasping for air as he tries to blink away his tears.

"I-it wasn't me-! I'm not her, I didn't mean to-"

Even from the rubbish he's spitting, they all seem to understand what he means. A gentle thumb, calloused from many battles, wipes his tears away.

"Hey, hey, breathe. Mei's not here. Xuan is."

Xuan's here…Yes, he's here. He is Xuan. A fresh start, and a promise to fix what Mei had broken.

He nods, burying his face in the soft fur of a warm coat.

"Xuan's here."

Yun did keep his promise. He killed Mei, so Xuan could arise.

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!

also hope it works, this is my first time posting like this. xoxo

#dislyte #dislyte lewis #li ling dislyte #lewis dislyte #dislyte li ling #dislyte tang xuan #tang xuan dislyte #dislyte tang mei #tang mei dislyte #mona dislyte #dislyte mona #dislyte tiye #tiye dislyte #dislyte tang yun #tang yun dislyte #angst lord rella strikes from the ceiling #dislyte fanfiction #ily all

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angelanika · 4 years

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Rough Day

{Rin Matsuoka x Reader}

{College AU}

A/N: I literally thought of this as I ate my first meal at 3pm :D Enjoy!

TW: Brief mention of suicide

Your hands trembled in your lap, occasionally being struck by the cold tears that fell down your cheeks. You sat alone in the corner of the busy cafeteria with your tear-stained face hanging low. Your glossy eyes slowly shifted to the side catching a glimpse of your pathetic reflection in the large, glass window. They then trailed down to your simple wrist-watch.

6:53pm

You wondered how the time slipped away so quickly, how you even got to this point but thinking back to today’s events made you want to cry even more.

~~~~~

“Shit!” you cursed, tripping over yourself while struggling to slip on your leather boots.

You couldn’t understand how you managed to sleep in seeing that you’ve never missed your alarm before. Sure you snoozed it from time to time but the thought of all the money you had to pay to even be at this university was usually enough motivation to get you out of bed.

You frantically tapped at your phone but it shone back brightly with a black screen, mocking you.

You were on it all night last night trying to go over some last minute study material before falling asleep and by time you put it down, you knew it was all out of juice but you SWORE you plugged it in!! How did you not plug it in?!?!

You wildly shrugged on a random coat from your cramped closet and did a quick glance over in the mirror. Damn, you looked rough. No time for that though. You dashed to the sink, gargled (damn near choked), snatched up your bag, keys, phone and flew out the door.

“What’s the time? What’s the time? What’s the time?” you chanted to yourself as you ran. Your watch (aka your new best friend) replied happily with a 9:13am.

“Son of Bitch!! The exam started at 9,″ you cried.

Whipping through the heavy wooden doors of the exam hall, you made your way in, throwing a panicked “sorry” to anyone you accidentally ran into. You crashed into the room, apologized to the frowning professor at the door, took an empty seat already equipped with an exam booklet and got to work.

...

“So should I do a flip when I jump off the building or...” you thought to yourself.

After that horrid exam you remained quietly in your seat. All the other students had ran out, eager to discuss it with their peers but you couldn’t even bring yourself to lift your head. The room was empty, quiet and cold...just like how you were feeling inside.

“I studied so hard for this shit. How did I screw up so much?!”

“Please refrain from using such foul language in the classroom Mr/Ms. L/N”

You jumped up.

Did I say that aloud...

There in front of you stood your professor with all the exam booklets in hand.

“I was making my way out but I couldn’t help but notice that you’re still here,” she explained.

“Oh yeah...sorry,” you replied weakly.

She immediately picked up on your tired, sad eyes and pulled out the chair next to you.

“Hm. Let’s see if I can give you some good news,” she said while taking a seat.

She began rummaging through the booklets before stopping to pull out yours.

You quietly listened to the steady sound of a pen being dragged across paper. Your head was face down on the desk but you could still make out the image of check marks being drawn beside you.

You heard quite a number of these and were starting to perk up a bit but then, it stopped.

Fuck...

“Hmmmm uhh good idea but...i guess you can get half a mark...hmm...i don’t know about that...”

Your professor really tried to save your grade but she can only award marks to what actually makes sense. You sighed audibly and began collecting your things.

“Well I can tell you your grade now but it’s not really that grea-”

“No thanks,” you interrupted. You could only handle so much heartbreak in one day. “Bye Miss. Thank you. Have a good day.”

And with that you were out.

You reluctantly went through your other back-to-back classes for the day, dealt with some less than friendly customers at work in the bookstore, got lectured by your manager for unorganization and stepped in gum on your way out ALL without a single bite to eat!! This brings us to the present.

6:53pm

You never thought that the sight of the plain, unseasoned cafeteria food would bring tears to your eyes...in a happy way. You were so tired. So hungry. So mentally drain-

“YN!!!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?”

The booming voice of your beloved boyfriend, Rin Matsuoka, making his way across the cafeteria sent you flying, startling your innocent metal fork out of your hand and to the ground and whipping a few heads to turn in your direction.

“I’VE BEEN TEXTING YOU ALL DAY AND YOU DIDN’T SEND ME A SINGLE REPLY. YOU ALSO FAILED TO MEET UP FOR BREAKFAST AFTER WE AGREED TO YESTERDAY...”

He was now seated across from you, clutching his phone dangerously tight out of frustration. His stunning red hair was wet and wild and he was dressed in his usual swim jersey, obviously just getting out of training. He wasn’t yelling but his tone was far from easy-going. He was clearly upset with you.

However, your eyes didn’t meet his once since he sat down. They were trained on the metal fork lounging on the floor. The ding-a-ling sound still echoing in your mind. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The final straw for you. Cue the waterworks, your body couldn’t hold back any longer.

“YOU HAD ME WORRIED SICK Y/N!! THE LEAST YOU COULD’VE DONE IS...is...y/n? What’s wrong?” his crimson eyes widen upon seeing tears streaming rapidly down your beautiful face. It felt like a stab in the chest to him.

“I-I didn’t mean to make you cry babe. I’m so sorry...I was just worried and I finally saw you here so I came over and I-” he speedily tried to apologize.

“No no it’s fine Rin,” you mumble in between sobs “It’s not your fault. I just had a really rough day.”

Your hands were now lifelessly sprawled on the table which Rin made quick to grab.

“Babe...what happened?”

He worriedly stared into your eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him with your pitiful ones, opting to turn towards the window once again as you rambled.

“Well...first I missed my alarm and woke up late cuz my phone was dead. Rin I swear I put it to charge!!” you cried, “so I ended up being late for an exam I was preparing really hard for but I completely bombed that too. Then I had 2 more classes that I couldn’t miss and I went to work and I haven’t had a single meal all day and my phone is still dead and-”

“Breathe y/n breathe,” Rin whispers, trying to calm you down.

“I’m so sorry about the texts and breakfast Rin. It’s just really not my day,” you finished.

Rin was quick to dismiss your apologies and assured you that he completely understood.

“College life is really rough babe but you gotta make sure to take better care of yourself,” he explained.

You nodded.

“Having your first meal at 7pm can’t work y/n. Suppose you collapsed from fatigue. And of course you couldn’t do well on that test without something in your stomach. I always tell you that breakfast is the most impor-”

“I KNOW RIN!!”

You didn’t mean to blow up on him like that but you were so hungry, the food was getting cold with all his health talk that you really didn’t need right now, you looked like trash and your fork was still on the filthy fucking floor.

He was visibly taken aback by the sudden change in tone but he only sighed and stood from the seat.

“Well I’m glad you know babe,” he said softly, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. “Now let me get you another fork and I’ll be sure to give your body all the TLC it needs to get back on track later...” he teased with a wink.

“Sounds good.”

Sounds damn good indeed...

#rin matsuoka #rin matsuoka x reader #rin #free #free! dive to the future #free! eternal summer #free! iwatobi swim club #haruka nanase #nagisa hazuki #free! sousuke #free!#x reader #x y/n #x you #kisumi x reader #haru x reader #makoto tachibana #makoto

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amedetoiles · 4 years

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pls tell me your thoughts about the potential for wwx-jgy friendship? i just like the idea of them having similar experiences as like: poor street kid/poor brothel kid, would kill god for the people they care about, made of knives, incredibly charming and personable. i feel like they could have Seen each other and understood each other really well, and like, things would have ended up better maybe?

Gosh. Ok, so full disclosure before I answer this: I am really not the most sympathetic towards Jin Guangyao. I am just not a fan of him in any universe where he is complicit if not directly responsible for the death of his own child to protect his own reputation (up for debate, but nonetheless Jin Rusong fucking deserved better), gaslights his wife / half-sister into committing suicide, and has a monologue meltdown about how difficult his life has been to his own orphaned and bullied nephew whose childhood he had a hand in destroying. I am glad he got kicked down the same stairs twice, and I am glad Nie Huaisang beat him at his own game. All in all to say that my thoughts on him might be colored by this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But let’s get into this! Jin Guangyao is a great character foil to Wei Wuxian. The circumstances of his life that shaped his morality (or lack thereof) and the choices he makes in response are tragic and understandable. I definitely think Jin Guangyao could have been a different person, a better person, if his father wasn’t such a trash heap, if society hadn’t been such a gigantic dick about his mother, and if he hadn’t needed to claw his way into achieving everything he did. Wei Wuxian says himself that he doesn’t consider Jin Guangyao a villain.

However, I hesitate to say that had they struck up a friendship, Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian could have understood each other easily and that this could have changed things. Don’t get me wrong! I can definitely see how influence could have been made where a friendship between these two would have fixed it all. Or at least improved things. Especially in association with Wei Wuxian, Jiang Yanli’s nonjudgemental kindness (under the condition that nobody hurts her little brothers) would have been extremely refreshing to Meng Yao.

But I also think the differences between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao would have made it difficult for them to truly understand and agree with each other. And it’s these differences that ultimately decide each of their fates.

I will try to organize my thoughts on this. First, the discussion of privilege.

1. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are not on the same privilege level.

While both Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are scorned in some way, shape, or form for their parents’ statuses, Wei Wuxian is still the son of cultivators. He is still the son of Cangse sanren, a disciple of a famed immortal. His pedigree and legacy are undeniable. Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, is the unwanted son of a lecherous sect leader and a sex worker. In a society where hierarchy and reputation is everything, this places Jin Guangyao in an entirely different pedigree in a way that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to understand.

Wei Wuxian is also brought into the Jiang sect and given a chance to cultivate at an early age where Jin Guangyao doesn’t. Wei Wuxian can punch the heir of a rich sect leader, leading to the dissolution of his sister’s political marriage alliance, and still get nothing but a slap on the wrist because boys will be boys. He can interrupt important post-war celebration dinners to tell that same rich sect leader to fuck off with his marriage proposal and then promptly skip away without any real consequences. He can accidentally send his friend’s little brother into a murderous rampage, and his own little brother will apologize on his behalf and offer to pay reparations.

Wei Wuxian may not have the same privilege as sect heirs like Jiang Cheng or Lan Wangji, but he has far more privilege than Jin Guangyao and Su She. This is important because it is this privilege that Wei Wuxian sacrifices later in order to the protect the Wens. I am not saying Wei Wuxian doesn’t suffer. He does, a truly horrendous amount, but even without his golden core, even when his self-worth is at an all-time low, he is still supported and protected by his status in the Jiang sect until he gives it up to do the right thing. Despite Lan Xichen and the Nies, Jin Guangyao doesn’t have this same kind of backing.

(With that being said though, Jin Guangyao does become Chief Cultivator, so there is only so far one can fall back on their disadvantages in society when they have already reached the top. Being marginalized is not an excuse to be a jackass to your nephew whose parents you had a hand in killing, just saying.)

One can argue that had Jin Guangyao been raised in the Jiang sect while Wei Wuxian continued to scrape for food on the streets, their outlook on life would have been completely different. But even taking into account Jiang Yanli’s overwhelmingly positive influence on a young Meng Yao, I am still inclined to disagree because of my next point.

2. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are fundamentally different in how they respond/cope with public gossip and ridicule.

Wei Wuxian, for the most part, lets these comments roll off his back. This is not to say he doesn’t care or that they don’t affect him. They clearly do, and his actions, his self-perception, and his increasingly arrogant bravado as the story progresses reflect the deluge of verbal abuse he’s face with, largely at the hands of Madam Yu. But he copes by being loud, by being talented, by becoming even more outrageous and more unorthodox the more people criticize him. So what if people don’t approve? So what if people look down on his father and gossip about his mother’s supposed relationship with Jiang Fengmian? As long as he is true to himself and his moral convictions, he can walk this dark single plank road alone and without regrets.

Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, desperately and reverently wants to be included. He wants to be accepted, to be liked. He wants to be in the room where it happens. He takes every single comment to heart, carries every disdainful remark on his back like an open scar. He is both someone who loves and respect his mother and who hates her for the constant shadow she casts over him and his place in society. He will build a Guanyin statue in her likeness, in her honor. He will wear a hat because she once told him that a gentleman always wears hats. And yet, he will spend everyday of his life trying to rid himself of his connection to her.

Where Wei Wuxian recklessly cares too little about appearances and what people think of him, Jin Guangyao cares far too much. Wei Wuxian doesn’t give one flying iota about politics, about status and acclaim. He was perfectly fine with being a lotus farmer on a mountain. Even if Wei Wuxian had never been taken in by the Jiangs (and managed to survive the streets), I genuinely think he would still have been largely the same – a child who is kind, open, curious, and holds few grudges. I am not sure I can say that even under the best circumstances, Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have . It destroys him. .

This ties into my last point.

3. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao have completely opposing priorities and beliefs on the worth of others.

Wei Wuxian will throw himself in front of anybody if his moral compass tells him it is the right thing to do. He is a genuinely open-hearted person who cares deeply about others and thinks it is morally corrupt to do nothing when something can be done. He is idealistic and optimistic, oftentimes to a fault. Jin Guangyao, as a result of his childhood and circumstances, is incredibly pessimistic and cynical. It is every person for themselves out here. The world is a crooked shitshow, conflict is inevitable, and he has to come out on top no matter what.

This leads to him sacrificing pretty much everyone in his life in order to maintain his own reputation. Like I do genuinely think Jin Guangyao truly cared about Jin Ling! I think he also in his own way cared about Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Nie Huaisang! But I also think a large portion of that is because he enjoyed how they made him feel. He enjoyed being liked and being depended upon. And we see clearly what happens when those benefits cease. Whereas Wei Wuxian would rather throw himself off a cliff than hurt any more people he loves, Jin Guangyao would rather push his own people off the cliff if it means his reputation and appearance remain intact. And if that’s not possible, he would rather set them on fire along with him.

This has become an entirely too long rambling essay to say that while Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao share similar experiences, their primary priorities are so different and opposing that it is hard for me to come up with a way in which a friendship between them could have changed things. Sure, Jin Guangyao could have benefited from Wei Wuxian’s unabashed and staunch defense of his friend. Anyone who talks shit about Jin Guangyao’s mother will get punched in the face, and it would maybe have made Jin Guangyao feel less alone in the world, less like he only had himself and his manipulative ways to seek acceptance.

But what happens when Wei Wuxian being Wei Wuxian runs around causing social and political uproar to do what he thinks is right? Is Jin Guangyao going to help and support him, or is he going to throw Wei Wuxian under the bus to protect his own reputation? Personally, I think the importance he places on public perception would ultimately be too great. It destroys his relationships, and it destroys him.

#陈情令 #the untamed #mdzs #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #i love wwx so much and he deserves so much #mdzs meta #!mine #!meta #gosh this really got away from me #i'm so sorry for writing a gigantic rambling mess for your question anon #i'm not even sure i answered the question????#ahhhh ds;gk;ldg #but as much as i like the parallels between jgy and wwx i think their differences are too great #more than wwx tho i think if anything jyl would have been a very positive influence #if she had been allowed to get her claws in during her brief time at koi tower #like her unending kindness could've certainly brought him around to some better choices #and softened his need for validation and acceptance from his father #but idk that wwx chaotic gremlin personality and lack of care for reputation and opinion would jive very well with jgy #i think much better would be the jin siblings finding some happiness and acceptance with each other #by plotting the murder of their father together!#revenge brings a family together!#[ ask eve ]#anonymous

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op-peccatori · 4 years

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coup de foudre | MLQC Shaw/Ling Xiao (M)

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Shaw

Rating: 18+/Explicit/NSFW

Words: 5k

Summary: He hadn’t planned on getting sucked in, unable and unwilling to free himself. But they’ve all had their chances and now, it’s his turn.

coup de foudre (‘stroke of lightning’): a sudden unforeseen event, in particular, an instance of love at first sight

A/N: i have nothing to say. except that this was supposed to be a filthy hookup thing but I should have known better. please...don't look at me lmao

(tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, mild language, vaginal sex, ... minor electric play, please don’t try this at home, chapter 19/20 spoilers...ish

Rain-soaked bangs cling to a crinkling forehead, hanging over amber eyes squinting through the unforgiving downpour.

His heart pounds, tremulous and worried, within the confines of his chest–because of all the running, he tells himself repeatedly–as the heavy soles of his combat boots splash through puddles, drawing peeved looks from the people passing by.

Annoyance and concern twist and twine around his lungs as there’s no sign of that familiar face, the sparks on the tips of his fingers deadly in his urgency, and if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for right now–

The fates conspire as the thought crosses his mind, as if unwilling to draw his ire, and his path leads him to a park near Loveland University. There aren’t a lot of people nearby or in the park itself; he wanders in through the wrought iron gate, already thinking of turning back and going back to the cafe in the hope that you’ll be there–and then he catches a glimpse of the now-familiar silhouette, curled up on a bench, seemingly unbothered by the rain.

Drenched to the bone with your hair glued to your face and your clothes clinging to your skin in a way he tries really hard not to notice, you almost remind him of a lost kitten he’d come across as a child. Even the way you shiver is similar, although the way his body responds to you is very different.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Your palms are spread open in front of you, exposed to your unfocused gaze. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as the thought of why you’re here comes to mind, so close to a man you should be staying far away from.

Shaw swallows the lump in his throat, mouth curving in that cocky way he knows will annoy you. With any hope, enough to wipe that miserable look off your face.

“There you are,” he calls, grinning at the way you jump and twist in place. Your eyes flash with immediate recognition and he’s near sickened by the elation that courses through him. You know him now, and that shouldn’t delight him half as much as it does.

It’s just because it would piss, well, quite a lot of people off.

“Oh, it’s you.” Your eyes, previously dull, spark with curiosity. “Shaw.”

“Mm.” There’s an umbrella clutched in his hand, one he’d brought along with you in mind, but it feels awkward in his grip now. He wants to open it and tug you closer, draw you into his arms and warm you up; he tosses the umbrella at you instead, trying to keep from shuffling in place as you stare at it in quiet surprise. “Y’know, I like parks as much as the next guy, but this isn’t really the kind of weather you should be out in.”

“More friendly advice?” you ask, eyes twinkling, and his mouth dries up. You sigh and open the device he so thoughtfully handed you. You don’t think you can get any wetter, but you might as well use it. “I know. I just...”

Visited Loveland Uni. Ran into Lu-Ares. You had felt so drained, so defeated, that you had, in all your wisdom, decided to stop by the park you had frequented so often with the professor by your side. It hadn’t been your intention to be caught in this rain.

“What are you doing here?” you ask instead.

He clears his throat, not wanting to answer or continue standing around here. But with your eyes fixed on him so intently, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of moving a muscle, let alone leave.

“I was just passing by. Saw you here, lookin’ like a drowned rat, and I’m just too nice to walk away.”

“Sure you are.” You get up with some effort, hating the way your clothes stick to you, missing the way he stiffens. You raise the umbrella until it covers most of him and you, stepping closer and steering your thoughts away from the heat you feel coming off him. “Well, thank you.”

“No problem. We’re friends now, yeah?” He watches you, your small smile, and the way it twitches before it crumbles, his heart lurching as you drop your forehead onto his chest. “You okay?”

He resists the urge to curl himself around you.

“Yeah.” His hand comes up to rest on your head. He had meant for it to feel like he’s petting a cute animal, but instead, he wants to take his glove off so he can feel your hair in all his tangled glory. He ruffles it gently, and your hand comes up to fist in his shirt. “...No, not really.”

“Thought so. Think you could go mope somewhere drier?”

“I’m not moping,” you grumble, pulling away, much to his disappointment. “But yeah. Mind walking me home?”

“Sure. I don’t have anything better to do, thanks for asking,” he drawls, taking the umbrella from you and drawing closer as you begin to walk out of the park. He’s overcome, just for a moment, by the urge to grab your hand.

It’s funny, he thinks. He’d thought the rest of them pathetic for the lengths they’d go to for you, the way they seemed to orbit around you as if you were the centre of their worlds. Even now, despite having no recollection of you, they aren’t impervious to your pull.

And neither is Shaw.

All he had planned on doing was to wait and watch, derive amusement from you stumbling around like a lost little lamb, help out whenever the mood struck him. But ever since that one time he’d sat next to you on the bus, watching you study him suspiciously, the way you had fidgeted when his jean-clad thigh pressed into yours–ever since then, a certain, dark hunger had taken root in him.

It was when he ran into you here, separated from your guard dogs, that he realized it was just you and him. For now, but it was still a golden opportunity to play with you. To touch you.

He hadn’t expected to be drawn in like the rest. To want you so bad it filled him with warmth on the best of days and burned him inside out on the worst of them.

“If you had anything better to do, you wouldn’t have come looking for me in this kind of weather.”

Shaw scoffs, refusing to turn his head and expose himself to your knowing gaze.

You know better though. Not with how often he seems to find you no matter where you are in the city. It’s something he has in common with a certain someone, and the thought has you aching with something bitter.

Your current companion may be a strange one but you can’t deny the relief you feel when he’s around; he’s the only person in this strange new world who remembers you, who knows things aren’t quite right. He doesn’t seem to care much, but you’re grateful for his presence nonetheless.

It’s with that thought in mind that you come to a stop. “I...don’t want to go home.” The silence had been particularly stifling today, prompting your escape, even if it was to grey skies and raging clouds.

Shaw studies you carefully, the stubborn set of your jaw and the quick flicker of panic in your eyes. You look like you expect him to mock and dismiss you, and while the former would be all too easy, he can’t dismiss your subtle request.

And living up to expectations has never been his style.

Saying no to spending more time with you? He’s not an idiot. He’ll take his entertainment where he can get it, and things around you are never dull.

“Alright. Wanna come over to my place?”

The words are out before he could rethink them, and he prays you don’t take it in the wrong way.

“I mean, we can find something to make you feel better.” Ugh, shut up, Shaw.

Would it be so bad, though–

Yes, it would. You’re not his to take. No matter how badly his mouth waters at the very thought of getting a taste, of sinking his teeth into your skin; no matter how often dreams of you shake him awake with sparks crackling along his limbs, his pants embarrassingly tight.

You agree without much thought, and he wants to scold you for it. You trust too easily, even after everything with that Professor.

“Come on, then.” Because his body and mind slip from his control whenever you’re around, his thoughts turn to the dream he’d woken up from last night, hard and throbbing with raging lust, fingers trembling as they were forced to his cock. He had still been half-asleep as he spilt himself onto his sheets, shame eventually creeping up his spine as his mind drifted toward awareness.

You’re oblivious to the turn his mind has taken, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You have so many questions, most of which you know by now won’t get an answer. But as he leads you up the stairs in a small building, you’re caught off guard by the thrill of anticipation building in you. Your eyes linger on the broad expanse of his back, the studded leather jacket stretching over his shoulders, the way his jeans cling to the round curve of his ass.

“I’m in the mood for pizza. There’s a great place nearby, if you’re cool with it. Oh, we could watch–“ He pauses just outside the door to 3B, fingers hovering over the keypad. “Oh, uh, give me a few minutes.”

With that he taps in the password and slips into the apartment, leaving you outside, perplexed. You wait in silence, realizing quickly that he hadn’t exactly expected to bring a guest along, and hadn’t had a chance to clean up, if that’s what he’s doing.

‘Maybe he’s hiding stuff. Clues to the current situation,’ you think suspiciously, before dismissing the idea. You’ve come here to spend time with a new friend, not snoop around. For the first time in what feels like ever, you’re not going to snoop. You’re going to eat pizza and watch whatever Shaw had been about to mention. You need a goddamn break and you’re going to take it.

The door opens then, with Shaw’s head still turned away as he appears to sweep his eyes over the room once more, as if checking to make sure everything’s in place.

“Right, come on in,” he steps back to let you through, glancing around the hallway before closing the door. You slip your shoes off at the entrance, looking around curiously as you step into the room, smiling gratefully when he hands you a towel.

His jacket is hanging on a rack at the entrance, leaving him in his shirt. His bangs are slicked back and there’s a towel around his neck, the beads wrapped around his wrist clattering as he dabs one end of the towel over his skin. It all makes an enticing, domestic picture, one that has you swallowing nervously.

“Nice place,” you comment, hiding a smile as you spot what looks like a pair of boxers next to the couch, pretending not to notice when he kicks the garment behind it.

“Thanks. Um, do you maybe wanna change?” Neither of you had considered your soaked clothes, and you feel like a complete idiot.

Shaw, on the other hand, has to tear his eyes away from the sheer fabric of your shirt, the way it hints at the tempting swell of your breasts. It’d be better for you both if you spend the rest of your time together in a sweatshirt.

“...That would be really great, thank you.”

“Wait here, I’ll go, uh, find you something to wear.”

You feel awful about putting him out like this, but he’s vanished through a door before you can say anything, and you focus on drying your hair. He comes back with a bundle of clothes and an endearingly nervous expression.

“I thought it might be better if you just shower, if you want to, I mean. I mean, do whatever, I’ll just order us some food,” Shaw mumbles, handing you the clothes.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting, you can go first,” you offer awkwardly, laughing weakly when he rolls his eyes and pushes you towards the bathroom.

“And that’s very gracious of you, but you’ll catch a cold if you don’t get warm soon, so go.” It’s more of a demand than anything and you can’t help the ‘yes sir’ as you shuffle towards the door. “Mushroom and cheese okay with you?”

“That’s my favourite!” you call back, closing the door behind you as you step into the bathroom. Placing the clothes on the counter, you take in the products scattered over the surface. Namely, the various types of hair products and perfumes.

Cute.

You feel oddly shy as you undress, mind swimming with scenarios involving Shaw stumbling into the bathroom somehow while you’re naked. You can almost picture the flushed cheeks he tries so hard to hide, the slight bobbing of his throat you’ve caught so often, and the way he tries to avert his eyes but fails. The thought of him pressing you into the tiled walls has you clenching, your cheeks blazing as you turn on the water.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you naked in his shower right now.

What you don’t know is how right you are, and how miserable it’s making him. Shaw has never felt the kind of shameful thrill that races through him now, as a part of him wonders what you would do if he joins you, if he sinks to his knees and licks into you like a starved, depraved creature.

You're out in ten minutes, smelling of his favourite body wash, and it takes everything in him not to bury his nose in your neck. That scent has never smelled half as good on him as it does on you. Your cheeks are still rosy from the shower, and he watches mutely as you wrap a towel around your head.

Then, with a smothered groan, he realizes you’re in his old sweatshirt and shorts, both too baggy and more adorable than he’d expected.

Fuck.

“I’m done! Thank you, Shaw,” you murmur softly, and he nods, dazed and dismayed at the thought of having to tighten his leash.

“You can put your clothes in the dryer.” He shows you to the machine, starting it for you before handing you his laptop, surprisingly you with the show of trust. “Don’t snoop around too much. You can’t blame me if you find something you don’t want to see.” With the taunt thrown, he turns on his heel and saunters off.

You browse YouTube for a bit before setting the laptop aside and curling up on the couch. It’s been a few days since you woke up in this reality, but it feels like forever. You had almost forgotten what safety felt like. And you can’t quite believe you feel that way with Shaw.

A mesh of stress and worry wound tight in your chest for so long, finally loosens a little as your limbs relax, and you nearly melt onto the cushion as you drift off, knowing you’re not alone, for once not uneasy at the thought.

He finds you dozing lightly, tiptoeing into the room, crouching down once he reaches you. The frown that had come to find a near-permanent place on your face seems to have almost faded, and his thumb comes to rub away the last traces of it from your brow.

Shaw’s eyes, lidded and intent, come to rest on your parted mouth, and yearning throbs hot in his belly. His fingers, helpless against the softness of your skin, trace the sharp bridge of your nose, your full cheeks, the plump curve of your lips. He’s so transfixed by the sight, fighting back the urge to dip his head for just a quick taste, that it takes him a moment to realize he’s being watched.

Caught, he locks eyes with you and freezes, his pulse quickening when he sees no sign of fear or distrust in them. Instead, you tilt your head the slightest bit and–his breath catches in his throat when he feels your tongue flick at the rough pad of his thumb.

Stunned, he can only watch as your mouth parts further to suck the tip in, tongue stroking it in an erotic imitation of an act he’s only ever dreamed of.

It’s when your lips curl up, amused by his stupefied expression, that he frees the digit from your mouth with a low pop and daubs the wetness from it down your chin. You don’t say a word but the look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know; he’s shaken by the way desire seizes him then, roaring and commanding him to take, to please, to wreck.

“You’ve had a bad day,” he tells you, hoarsely and weak in the face of his burning thirst, pulling his hand back.

“I’ve had a bad month. But I thought you brought me here to make me feel better?” you ask, blinking innocently as you rise up, leaning your weight on one elbow.

His low chuckle sets your nerves alight, as does the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between staying fixed on your eyes and mouth. “With pizza and Netflix.”

“Mm. You can just say no,” you say, even though you’re already leaning in. Your lips brush the corner of his and he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes sliding shut as he feels your breath on his face, warm and beckoning.

You must know that he–

“I can’t,” he breathes and captures your mouth with his. He can’t fathom a situation where he would deny you, when you’re ready and willing to let him in. When he’s been longing for this for so long.

It’s slow, a sweet claiming, relief and destruction bound together intimately. Any thoughts of resistance are abandoned, left in the dust for the exquisite flavour of your mouth. He groans at the slow drag of your teeth over his lip, shifting onto the couch to lean over you without breaking contact, tilting his head to go deeper, take more.

Satisfaction courses through him, visceral and grasping, as you turn onto your back, hands clenching in his shirt to pull him down from his careful hovering.

You’re lost, sinking into each other with every moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his finally tangle in your hair. His tongue slides along yours, and you’re overwhelmed by the desire to feel every inch of him, on you, in you, firm and warm.

“Good,” you gasp out, planting swift kisses along his jaw before he groans and crushes his mouth against yours again, intent on having his fill, knowing he never will; he will never get enough. His hand, splayed across your abdomen, slides down. He can nearly feel the coiled tension in you, desperate for him to unravel it, begging for his attention.

The doorbell rings, startling and shrill.

Shaw pulls away, breathing hard, the tips of your noses brushing. You pant lightly, a moan stuck low in your throat as you feel his hard bulge pressing into your belly. His desire is an unmistakable as yours; you ache to take his cock in you, your lust for him dripping from your cunt.

His amber eyes, glossed over as he fights to control himself, clear slightly at the second ring.

“I’ll be right there,” he yells in the direction of the door, before diving in to kiss you, hard and quick, all teeth and tongue, and then he rips himself away and staggers over to the door; your soft whine rings in his ears and chipping away at his composure.

He greets the delivery man with a strained grin, his mind occupied with the temptress he left on his couch. The man eyes him weirdly as he takes the cash, taking in the state of his hair and lips, eyes flitting over his head; he averts his eyes when Shaw sheds his pleasant demeanour, his expression edged with threat. He grabs the pizza, shooting a quick thanks at the man and barely restrains himself from slamming the door shut.

The haze of desire lifts. You’re probably hungry, and he needs to think.

You have other plans.

He’s barely left the boxes on the counter and turned around before he finds himself with an armful of determined girl pressing up against him, arms wrapping around his neck as you press your mouth to his.

“Ah, baby,” it slips out and he blushes at the low, needy sound that escapes you. “D-don’t you wanna eat-?”

“I want you,” you say, demanding and fierce and he doesn’t stand a chance. “Please, Shaw.”

His hands are clutching at the backs of your thighs before his mind can catch up, hauling you up until your legs wrap around his hips. A lazy grin splits his lips at the squeal that escapes you, that then melts into a moan as he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

He presses you into the wall and drags his tongue down the length of your neck, pleased by the way you shiver. “You need to be specific.”

His teeth sink into pliant flesh and the back of your head hits the wall, hips bucking up involuntarily. “Ah, I-I–“

“You want something, baby?” His hands knead the plump flesh of your ass as he sucks a blooming mark into your skin. “You gotta ask for it.”

He lets you slip down, just a little until you can feel him against you, just as desperate but better at controlling it, and using it against you.

“I-I want you to touch me, Shaw.” The heel of his palm slips between your bodies to press between your thighs, putting enough pressure that you grind your hips into it, desperate for the friction.

“Like this?” he asks, smirking impishly when you glare at him in frustration, pulling at his hair.

“More,” you whine. He laughs and adjusts his grip so he can carry you further down the hall.

“Tch. Greedy.” You nip at his earlobe in retaliation and his hands squeeze your ass in warning, this time as a warning–one you dismiss right away.

“I want your cock too,” you whisper, so softly he would’ve missed it if your lips weren’t ghosting the shell of his ear, your cunning tongue tracing the delicate skin. “I want you to fuck me, use me–“

The rest of your words are lost in a yelp as he throws you onto the bed, slipping his T-shirt off with one hand as he reaches for your ankle with the other. His abdomen, all taut muscle, his shorts resting low on his hips–you could run your fingers all over him for hours. The skies flash through the window, angry and eager, the rain still falling mercilessly, and you think it matches the look in his face perfectly.

“Careful what you wish for, baby,” he says in a half purr, his eyes dark with ruthless promise as he drags you closer. “I won’t be so nice if you tease me.”

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your (his) shorts and tug them down, only to pause, swallowing the sudden flood of moisture in his mouth as your glistening cunt is exposed to his ravenous gaze.

“My underwear got wet earlier,” you hurry to explain, nervous and embarrassed at the way he’s staring at you, his tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Your underwear isn’t the only thing-” He’s cut off by his own laughter as you kick him lightly in the stomach, attempting to close your legs–that he puts a stop to at once. “Now, now. I’m not complaining.” The foxy curve of his lips meets the arch of your foot, sliding across the skin over your ankle. He crawls onto the bed as he kisses his way up your leg, the tip of his tongue dipping into the crease at the back of your knee.

You can only watch in breathless silence as he nips his way up the tender flesh of your thigh, never breaking the meeting of your eyes. He parts your legs, fingers slipping through your slick curls to spread your folds before a long digit pushes in.

“So wet. Is it all for me?”

Shaw’s gaze doesn’t waver once and you throw your head back, cunt clenching around his finger and heart racing from the hunger in his face.

A second finger slides in, rubbing at your slick walls as you moan and rock your hips up. You glance at him, teeth digging into your lip at the sight of his pupils blowing wide as he looks at his fingers coated with your arousal.

“Look at you,” he growls, pumping his fingers faster as his tongue flicks at your swelling clit and you whimper and try to jerk your hips away. “Who would’ve thought you’d be such a dirty slut, begging for my fingers.”

With his other hand, he pushes the hem of your sweatshirt up until your breasts spill free from beneath it, the cloth folded under your chin. His hot mouth tugs at a nipple, nipping and sucking as his fingers stroke you to a slow ruin.

“Shaw.” You’re half cursing, half pleading and then you’re yelling in outrage as he slips his hand away. “You ass–“ But your voice dies in your throat when you spy him tugging at the cords of his shorts, yanking them down his hips. You can’t even call him out on his own lack of underwear, distracted as you are by his cock, by the way his lips close around his fingers as he licks them clean.

He lashes flutter at the taste, the little sample of your flavour rich on his tongue, and he vows to spend more time with his face buried between your legs, to grab a proper meal. His mouth waters at the thought of you coming on his tongue.

“You sure about this?” He asks, reaching into a drawer in his bedside table and pulling out a square foil.

You lock eyes with him and it hits you. You’ve got a lot, and nothing at all on your plate, you have mysteries to chase and thing to set right, because you’re in a reality where nobody remembers you. Nobody, except for this gorgeous, infuriatingly cavalier man standing in front of you, stroking his cock slowly and waiting for your permission.

You deserve this, damn it.

“Absolutely,” you respond with a touch of finality, rising up to your knees to reach for him, sliding the sweatshirt off as you go. His knee rests on the bed as your fingers wrap around his length, covered by his own as you prime him together, drawing the first drop of arousal from his tip.

He kisses you, once, twice, and then again. Your lips slide down his throat, placing sweet, wet kisses along the flexing muscle of his shoulders. Down and down you go, dipping your tongue into his bellybutton, smiling at the way his hips jerk.

You glance up at him and open your mouth, lips forming a wide O, tongue out; he shoots a prayer up before guiding the head of his cock in.

His fingers dig into the back of your head as you swallow as much of his thick length as you can, tongue pressing flat as you move back and forth along it. His thrusts are shallow, his scent musky as your nose brushes his unruly curls.

“Pretty, pretty baby,” Shaw growls, the sweet words warped and filthy as they fall from his lips, hands tugging at your hair. “You look perfect like this, with my cock in your mouth.”

Your moan vibrates around him and he stiffens, easing you off, plucking the condom off the bed and ripping it open.

“As much as I’d love to,” he mutters, pushing you onto your back, climbing over you fluidly. “You asked to be fucked, and I intend to deliver.”

He fits himself between your legs, kneeling between them as he slides the latex on. You can’t help but clench in anticipation, watching him position himself at your entrance.

“Last chance,” he whispers, teasingly. He isn’t completely sure if he can stop, if you do choose to tell him to. You look beautiful, your hair spilt across his messy bedspread and your eyes, vulnerable and filled with desire, waiting for him.

He slides the head of his cock along your folds and a shudder runs through you.

“Fuck me,” you rasp, eyes sliding shut as he slides in. Your thoughts, your problems, your loneliness–everything numbs and fades away. All you smell is him, sharp and heady. All you feel is him, his cock sheathed in you and his lips on your cheek.

“As my lady commands,” he mutters sarcastically, with a touch of sincerity as he grinds against you, drawing a sweet moan from you. Your walls squeeze him, hot and slick and possessive, pleasure sinking into his bones, scraping him raw; he will never let you go, now that he has you. It doesn’t matter which world or which reality you find yourselves in.

‘You’re mine now,’ he thinks darkly, greedily. He, who refuses to tie himself to any side, will bind himself to you so deeply you will never escape him. He will sink his claws so deep they would never be able to rip you from his grasp.

You gasp his name and the sound travels through him with a jolt; he thrusts hard, eager to see what other sounds he can draw from your lovely mouth.

Shaw tries to be gentle. He tries really hard. He’d wanted his first time with you to be sweet and slow, gentle and lasting as long as he could physically make it. But you shred any remnants of his control with the way you twist and writhe beneath him, meeting his thrusts with urgent rolls of your hips and moaning for him, so sweetly it threatens to unravel him.

Your whispers of how good he feels, how you never want him to stop, of please please please push him until he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, riveted by the sight of you falling apart, your head thrown back and your breasts bouncing with every snap of his hips.

He can’t help it; his hand reaches for your cunt, fingers pressing to your swollen clit. The barest whispers of static spark to life on his fingertips, just for a second–your body reacts before your mind can process it, convulsing and twisting as he rubs tight circles, a scream tearing from your throat as he pins you in place.

Your walls clench him so tightly he nearly chokes, plunging into his own ruin as his pace falters, turning wilder and unmeasured, as he comes with your wrecked visage burned into his mind. Your eyes are wet, your limbs trembling weakly.

You kiss his face sloppily as he tries to catch his breath, drawing him in until his face presses into the side of your neck. He takes a long moment to breathe you in, the scent of sex and sweat intoxicating, his mind still consumed by you as he turns you both over to hold you close to him.

Your fingers creep up his side, and a mortifying, high-pitched noise of protest escapes him when you pinch him hard. "You better not have fried my vagina," you mumble tiredly.

"Chill. You're fine." It's not the first time he's tried it, but he wisely keeps that to himself. You snort, nuzzling his chest as a satisfied sigh leaves you.

Triumph courses through him, as does fear; he’s not one to lie to himself. This will not be a one-time thing. He will have you, again and again. He will stay by your side, regardless of what others will think or do.

His heart squeezes at the thought of Gavin. What would he think of the fact that Shaw has stolen you away while he remains oblivious, with no plans of letting go?

That is, if you’re on board.

In all honesty, he can't bring himself to regret any of it. They've all had their chances and now, it’s his turn.

You press your ear to the rapid thumping of his heart, not attempting to untangle your legs from his. You hum when he kisses your hair, turning to catch his mouth in a soft kiss. A low grumble breaks the tranquil silence, and you purse your lips when he turns to you with that familiar mocking stare.

“So,” you begin nervously, trying not to squirm. “Pizza?”

#mlqc #mlqc shaw #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc fanfic

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ibijau · 4 years

Note

"Well hello sleeping beauty, you fell asleep on me" with Ouyang Zizhen and the juniors! Can you make it a modern AU? They all might or might not know each other to begin with 👀

Ouyang Zizhen has been up since four because he had to print the essay he finished last night at one, prepare lunch and dinner while reviewing one last time for that test he has, get ready, and run to get the first train to his university so he can make it to his first class of the day.

There are no words to express how much he regrets picking a class that starts at eight on a monday when he lives two hours away from university. Sure, the content is great, the teacher is amazing, and he’s getting good grades so far, but the cost to his body and soul might not be worth it.

The plan was to use those two hours stuck in a train to continue reviewing for his test, perhaps read a bit for pleasure if he has time. The thing nobody told him about university is how little he’d get to read outside of assignments, and it is upsetting. Ouyang Zizhen just wants to read something that isn’t biochemistry. He’d kill for a poem. Just one poem. A short one. It doesn’t even need to be a good one.

He could have done that today on the train, but instead he nods off halfway through his notes for the first part of today’s test.

Ouyang Zizhen doesn’t even realise he had fallen asleep until someone shakes him awake.

His first reaction is absolute panic. He cannot have missed his stop, he has to hand his essay, he has this test, his father will be unsufferable if he messes, and... but thankfully, looking out of the window, Ouyang Zizhen realises that they have not yet arrived at the university's station. Relieved to find he’s not in trouble, he finally looks at the person who woke him up. Only, he’s not sure who it is among the three boys sitting with him. The one next to him does look most apologetic, with the two across from them are smirking like cats.

“Well, hello sleeping beauty,” the boy next to him says with a kind smile. “You fell asleep on me, and Jin Ling says you go to our university so...”

Ouyang Zizhen blinks at him, surprised to have been noticed. He mostly keeps to himself, and since he lives so far, he never really hangs out with other students since it’s a bother to get home. And yet one of the other two boys, the one who looks youngest and dresses like he has too much money, nods.

“I’m in professor Wei’s class as well,” Jin Ling states in a voice that hints he too regrets choosing to come study at eight in the morning on mondays. Now that he thinks of it, Ouyang Zizhen might have seen him before. Isn’t he that kid who stays after every class to argue with the teacher?

“Well, thanks for waking me. And, uh. Sorry for falling asleep on you,” he adds toward the boy next to him. “You should have just pushed me away.”

“You looked like you needed it. Oh, I’m Lan Sizhui by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Ouyang Zizhen. Same.”

“And I’m Lan Jingyi, not that anyone cares apparently,” the third boy announces with a pout. “Yes, we’re related,” he quickly adds when Ouyang Zizhen opens his mouth to ask a question. “Cousins. Technically, so’s Jin Ling.”

Jin Ling scoffs at that, and mutters something about refusing to admit someone is his uncle. There’s sadly no time to dwell on that, because the train comes to a stop and they must all get off. The Lan cousins have classes in a different building and go their own way, but Jin Ling stick with Ouyang Zizhen. He supposes it makes sense since they’re going to the same lesson, but it’s still nice to be walking with someone. It’s nicer still when, after a good ten minutes of Jin Ling complaining about a number of things, Ouyang Zizhen realises that the other boy is trying to invite him to have lunch with him and the Lans. It’s tempting, but...

“I have a test this afternoon.”

“With that old fart Yao, right?” Jin Ling huffs. “I’m in that class as well. We can review over lunch. Jingyi will help, he had him last year.”

There’s no reason to refuse such a generous offer, so of course Ouyang Zizhen agrees. Preparing for tests is never fun, but it might be less painful if he’s not suffering alone.

#ouyang zizhen #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #mo dao zu shi #jau writes #I'm not very good at modern aus sorry!!#but I hope this is still pleasing??#oyzz is so envious when he discovers that the other three are related to his favourite teacher #mdzs #Anonymous

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

Text

Escapade Vid - The Untamed

I could say this was my attempt at meta on an underappreciated character and that's why I wanted to vid Wen Ning…

Nah, I just think he's hot.

Wen Ning has this adorable babyface and big eyes. Just my type. And then he got a goth makeover and became a creepy zombie, increasing his hotness by ten thousand times. The Living Dead was everything I wanted except for dubcon possession porn, and it both irritates and cracks me up to see how many people find it OOC and badly made. I agree the colors are an abomination though--but more on that later.

I like Wen Ning the best because 1. He's hot and 2. He's one of the most competent characters and compromises his morals the least. Mianmian might be one up on him given how her story turns out, but in a whole series of craven idiots, I like the suicidally moral characters, especially when they're competent.

And also JC. Because I like his face. (What? I never said my Untamed feels were deep.)

I wanted to make this vid last year, right after Escapade. I spent forever finding a song, and I'm glad I did it then because it was a nightmare. I can find love songs easily, but I don't really care about WN/WWX, nor would most love songs fit that. It's clearly one-sided, but WN is also clearly totally happy to follow him around forever. Happy love songs are out. Pining angst is out.

WN is also motivated by high ideals more than specific family feelings. WQ wants to protect her family. WN wants to repay his debts. WN is a shy doofus on the surface when we first see him, and he acts flustered around most of the older characters, but this is deceptive. I feel like the most revealing scene is when he pops up at Lotus Pier, ready to grab JC and take on his entire clan. In what universe was this a good idea? What is he even doing there? Why did it actually work???

I wanted a song that encapsulated WN's quiet stubbornness. The trouble is that like 99% of popular music is either about romance or about being a confident badass, and most of the confident badass music is "Fuck you, ex boyfriend, I'm stronger now". I did not want an ex boyfriend song. A bunch of other songs are macho, flexing dudes talking about how they'll win the sports competition. Obviously, that was out. There are a very few songs like Try Everything, but they're awfully perky for covering Wen Ning's entire story, including him getting, you know, gruesomely murdered.

I honestly can't remember how I found the song I picked. I was probably listening to Happy Hanukkah on endless repeat and saw it in the Youtube sidebar. (Look, it's a great song for all times of year. Shut up.) Matisyahu has many amazing songs that build and move in ways ideal for vids.

I then sat on this source/song combo for a year because, well, it sure was a year. But when we got close to Escapade, I realized I wanted to finish it for the con.

Clip choices:

I'm not going to include the full lyrics on their own since they're in English and on every lyrics site. Instead, I'm putting the relevant bits between my explanations of what I chose and why. A lot of it came together quickly. I knew I wanted to include cute WN moments, like him being bullied by kids, and they wouldn't fit in the main narrative, so I had to put them in the intro.

Feel like the world don't love you They only wanna push you away Some days people don't see you You feel like you're in the way

I had a lot of trouble with 'push you away' since, generally speaking, no one does push him away. However, this is a vid from Wen Ning's own perspective, so it felt like an acceptable match to use the part where Wen Qing tries to leave him behind as they go on a hunt. She's objectively correct to do so given what happens, but Wen Ning is clearly upset that she tried. He doesn't want to be protected, especially at the cost of other people's safety.

Today you feel as if everyone hates Pointing their fingers, looking at your mistakes You do good, but they want great No matter what you give they still wanna take

I was very clear from early on that I wanted to use 'mistakes' for what Wen Ning is actually upset about: ruining Jin Ling's life. Of course he feels super guilty about what he did, despite it not being his fault, but the specific fallout Wen Ning is going to care about is a kid's feelings, not the political drama. That gave me the idea for what to do with 'good' and 'great'. More than most characters in the series, WN is not impressed by the power structure or reputations--scared, yes, but not impressed. WN likes bringing people food, at little things that are quietly good, and their society does not value that. (Cf. everything about Jiang Yanli's betrothal before Jin Zixuan catches feelings.)

'No matter what you give' I used for a shot that is probably not going to read as anything in a convention vidshow. He's bruised up, so I was hoping it would read properly visually. The actual context of the shot is WN having been thrown in the dungeon for being a traitor to the Wen. And yet, when the Wen are defeated, does he get a pardon? Nope, ignominious death. It really didn't matter what he did: these factions are all thoroughly corrupt and the entire system is garbage. It's all power-hungry assholes and sanctimonious prisses ripe for manipulation. All that mattered was that he was a Wen, and the Wens were either on top or being exterminated.

Give your love and they throw it back You give your heart they go on attack When there's nothing left for you, Only thing that you can do, say

The next part is WWX being an ungrateful little bitch. He's understandably stressed, but it still cracks me up that he's all up in WN's face and WN is literally only there to help him. WN might feel an obligation, but WWX sure isn't earning it here.

'When there's nothing left' I wasn't sure about. WN hitting rock bottom is arguably when he gets killed or maybe when they're in the burial mounds, but that didn't work with my structure. I chose to put a montage here of all the times that WQ tells him to stay safe by ditching WWX. I sympathize with WQ, but as WN comments in one of these scenes, he's following their own family code that she taught him. WQ cares so much about protecting WN (and the rest of their little part of the clan, but let's be real, it's mostly about WN) that she's willing to collude with a mass murderer just to keep him safe. Maybe it's only because he's a younger sibling, but WN seems to see things a lot more clearly. I laugh every time he's like "Uh huh, uh huh" as she lectures, and then the next scene is him running off to do something dangerous again.

Today, today live like you wanna, Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire, in a fire, in a fire, Fight like a warrior, Today, today live like you wanna, Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire, in a fire, in a fire, Live like a warrior

For this round of the chorus, WN is burning his Wen clan membership in a fire, and the heroic thing is running away, living to fight another day. WN has no ego, nor would ego be helpful here.

Buuuut, equally, being an actual warrior means hurting people, and while he was literally mind controlled into murder, that still couldn't have happened if he hadn't been already involved in violence and fighting. Violence you regret is also part of this life, and so is accepting responsibility for your actions. (Sure, he's very literally not responsible here, but WN doesn't know that at the time and doesn't feel that even later.)

There's some things you should let go, They're only gonna pull you down, Just like weight on your shoulder They are only gonna make you drown

I swear The Untamed has the best casting for a variety of face types. I recognized everybody from the moment they appeared… Except for Su She. Whom I forgot entirely and couldn't recognize at all. Doh.

It wasn't till I was clipping the whole series for this vid that I realized that the reason Wen Ning gets possessed here is that he's the only one to notice Su She's plight and go to his aid right away. I think on first viewing, I read it as him just getting possessed before he could get in the air, but that's not what's happening at all. His dumb ass stayed behind to try to help someone. Seriously, fuck Su She. They live in a grotesquely shitty power structure, but WN responds in admirable ways, while Su She just whines that he's not on top.

We all swing high, we all swing low, We all got secrets people don't know We all got dreams we can't let go, We wanna be brave, don't be afraid

WN's secret is that he gets possessed so easily and why. WQ is refusing to tell WWX in this scene, but he has figured out something is up and gives her a talisman for WN, which shows up later in the plot to great emotional effect--though not in this vid, alas.

The butterfly reveal was one of the first things on my timeline as I recall. I have Many Feelings. Also, this is me, so yes, I totally ship them. >:D

WN and WQ showing up to accept responsibility is kind of a dumbass move, but it's definitely brave. I enjoy how WN just keeps barrelling through the plot in a way that should mean he's the cute woobie who dies early on to prove the world is bad… and that instead leads to him being one of the strongest fighters, making it through the series, and finding A-Yuan again. (Though, okay, he did that first thing also. Heh.)

I ended on Jin Ling because I was so struck on rewatch at how the juniors first meet Wen Ning.

I dimly recalled this fight, but it wasn't till I was clipping that I realized just how much focus each of them gets and how WN is literally strangling them and such. I just remembered him fighting people, not who. It's hilarious how quickly after this (in their timeline) we have doofus woobie WN being cute and them being like "He's my murder zombie! ♥"

For this chorus, I focused on that change. WN is rescuing them. "Yesterday" is their scared faces. Here, being a "warrior" is apologizing to JL. And maybe WN doesn't really owe an apology, but JL does deserve one. Almost no one in the series seems to give a shit about how JL is feeling.

And then my favorite scene with my two faves! WN is finally telling JC what he has probably wanted to for ages. WN is a wuss when it comes to himself, but he gets righteously pissed when someone else is being mistreated. The yesterday he's letting burn here is his promise to keep quiet… along with viciously burning down every bit of self perception and hubris JC ever had. Ouch!

Your heart is too heavy from things you carry a long time, Been up you been down, tired and you don't know why, But you're never gonna go back, you only live one life Let go, let go, let go, let go, let go, let go,

Bless the sequel movie for literally being entirely about Wen Ning's internal struggle. The way he breaks free of the bad guy's hold is by accepting the past and letting go of his guilt over things he can't change.

Today, today live like you wanna, Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire, in a fire, in a fire, Fight like a warrior,

He's just so hot in this movie! This first chorus is him coming out of the hallucination, having beaten his self doubt and then beating on the villain.

Today, today live like you wanna, Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire, in a fire, in a fire, Live like a warrior

Okay, in actual canon, JL mostly joined them because he was competing with LSZ like the bratty little asshole he is, but I wanted to highlight how JL got over himself enough to join the other juniors on team WN. Also, WN defends both him and LSZ in this scene in ways he couldn't back then.

Today, today live like you wanna, Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire, in a fire, in a fire, Fight like a warrior,

This I wasn't planning on at all. As I was clipping the whole series, I was thinking that WN's possessed footage here wouldn't be narratively useful since he went and got taken over again, but when I rewatched for visually impressive stuff to use interstitially, I realized that--holy shit--he's defending Jin Ling in this scene. And he succeeds. I included both a shot of Jin Zixuan, which everyone caught in the vidshow, and a shot that nobody mentioned: Wen Ning's bloody fist after ripping JZX heart out to go with Wen Ning's bloody hand on the sword in the present as he struggles to keep it from Jin Ling. Here, fighting like a warrior means keeping the sword off of JL, even if WN can't defeat the spirit or resolve the entire situation himself.

ALSO I HAVE MANY FEELS ABOUT JC JUMPING IN FRONT OF JL.

Today, today live like you wanna, Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire, in a fire, in a fire, Live like a warrior

Sometimes, WN is not that sweet. He traps this dude in a hell of his own making instead of letting him kill himself because Wen Ning can be a vindictive little bitch. And then he strides off into the matte painting sunset.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Other vidding notes:

I totally wanted to do something with Chinese characters, but there wasn't really space, and after much dictionary-searching and asking, it's clear that Chinese does not use morality metaphors involving a compass pointing true north. But that effort was not wasted since I needed a good font for my other vid.

Vidding The Living Dead turned out to be a pain. I had completely forgotten it was in another aspect ratio. The shots look much more beautiful before one crops them. That said, none of them are that beautiful because the entire film has this atrocious green color filter over it. It's like they're all wading through mud at all times. Ughhhhh. I spent so long trying to fix the color on that final scene to be at least a little pretty for my vid.

Still, the film had exactly the emotional tone I wanted. It very much skewers the fanon that WN is entirely the bashful wimp he appears to be on the surface when we first see him. It makes overt the change that we see over the series. It's also fundamentally different because it's a situation where WN is the senior person and in charge of someone. We've seen him babysit a small child, and we've seen him around the juniors with lots of people of his generation also there, but we've basically never seen him out from under WQ and WWX's thumbs. It's only natural that he's acting more authoritative here. His smackdown of the villain is very much in line with how he treats JC during the golden core reveal. WN is not a forgiving guy when he thinks someone has been selfish and awful.

Throughout this vid, there are shittons of color, speed, and motion effects. I don't normally use a lot, but it turned out to be a lot of fun this time. I should find another project to use effects on.

The vid:

Available on AO3.

#vidding #wen ning

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (1)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

(fic I started writing a while back. I just like the image of Ed getting increasingly frustrated with how illogical quirks are)

Part 2: here

Edward notices tall, dark and suspicious the moment he enters through the rickety front door into his poor excuse of an office. It wasn’t just the way his entire head was covered in a low hood, though that was mighty suspicious, no, this dude gave off some of those dangerous vibes that he would usually associate with a homunculus. The stranger's movements were slightly off, as if not quite human. Only, there was no such thing as a homunculus in this weird word. Well, not that he knew of.

“Brat! Are you listening to me!”

Ed begrudgingly turns his attention back to his irate landlord. The older man is leaning over Ed’s desk, close enough that Ed can see the numerous wrinkles pulling down his face. “You better not be skimping on our arrangement.”

“Hey,” Ed taps a finger against the wood, leaning forward so the old man is forced back at the risk of butting heads, “This whole building needs new wires …do I look like an electrician?”

That enlists an expression of acute irritation and more annoyed huffing, “Don’t get smart with me. I’ll evict your freeloading ass so fast that…”

“Oi! Our deal was that I fix the roof, get rid of that mould up on the third floor, and you set me up for the next month.”

“The deal was that you handle the building’s upkeep and I put a roof over your ungrateful head.”

“Just because I can fix up some rotting floorboards doesn’t mean I’m an expert electrician… how about you go hire a person with qualifications while I get on with my day job.” He smacks his hand on the table for emphasis, motioning at tall, dark, and mysterious waiting a few steps behind the older man. Technically, he could probably figure out how to fix the building’s faulty wiring with alchemy but there was no way he was getting suckered into helping his grumpy scam artists of a landlord any more than was promised.

To his credit, the old coot takes one look at the shadowy figure and decides to put any further complaints on hold.

“I’ll be back. This ain't over,” is grumbled at Ed as the man makes his exit, skirting around the larger stranger with a healthy amount of apprehension.

“Don’t do me any favours!” Ed snaps after him, rubbing his forehead before eyeing his potential customer. The location where he has set up shop isn’t the most affluent or safe so, for all he knew, this weirdo was about to rob him. Not that he had much to steal. He had arrived in this world with nothing and, four months later, he still has barely enough to feed himself on the regular. Not when he is pumping any money he earns into his search to get home.

“Ah…sorry about that,” He squints, trying to see under the stranger’s hood and is met with only darkness. It almost looks like the other man is made of purple smoke. It’s unsettling. No doubt the by-product of some more weird quirk bullshit. Ed tries to keep his tone as polite as possible. “You came to get something fixed right?”

“It has been reported that you can repair anything?” The question is asked with little inflection. Almost toneless. Hopefully, this is a customer and not a cop trying to bust him for illegal quirk usage…great.

“Sure,” He puts on his fakest of smiles, channels his inner Ling, and launches into his best sales pitch, “I have a reconstruction quirk…as long as most of the pieces are present, I can put it back together.”

“…and does that extend to construction and building work?”

“Ah,” The stranger didn’t appear to be carrying anything substantial on him so the object in need of fixing was probably located elsewhere, “what the hell do you need fixed?”

There’s no response to his question and Ed crosses his arms, “I can’t do anything high-tech, too many intricate moving parts, but building construction is fine as long as the materials are all there and I have time to plan. Might take me a few goes depending on the scale. It will cost you extra as well. I’ll have to see it to be sure of the exact price.” He rattles off his fake quirk limitations with practised ease. In a world filled with nonsensical abilities, his alchemy fit right in.

The tall man thinks for a moment, leaving Ed to ponder the strange nature of the request. This is the first time he has been asked to do building work, usually, people wanted more mundane repairs like fixing furniture or jewellery.

“Acceptable,” comes the abrupt response, “My employer requires some discrete building installation and repair, basic reconstruction, shelving, wall-fittings, construction. All onsite work.”

“That’ll be pretty expensive….” Ed answers slowly, “and time-consuming.”

“All materials will be provided. The price will not be an issue.”

“Okay…” Ed narrows his eyes, examining the figure, but the shadows give nothing away. “Where exactly is this job?”

“Transport to the site will be arranged.”

As if to emphasis the statement, Tall-Dark-And-Smokey raises a hand and an inky black circle appears on the wall. The sudden action has Ed half rising from his seat, preparing to attack or defend. A beat passes and nothing happens.

“The mode of transport,” Tall-Dark-And-Smokey explains, motioning to the black circle. It is a quirk effect, obviously something to do with travel. Ed relaxes but remains standing. Is it just him or does the guy sound partly amused as his obvious unease? He carefully extracts himself from behind his crowded desk to step around and take a closer look.

“So I just step in that and hope you’re not about to screw me over.” He folds his arms, more irritated now.

“Your caution is understandable,” The purple circle fluctuates, undulating, and Tall-Dark-And-Smokey puts a hand inside his jacket pocket. Ed tenses again, ready to clap his hands together, relaxing only when he sees the stranger produce a white envelope. In a deliberately slow movement, the envelope is placed atop the uneven stack of books Ed has piled near the door. Ed once again gets the sense that the other man is amused.

“Consider this a sign of goodwill and proof of our willingness to pay whatever needed,” The man tugs his hood, so it further hides his non-existent face. “Think it over. I will come by later for a response.”

Tall-Dark-And-Smokey steps into the swirling circle which shrinks, disappearing completely.

“Later? When the hell is later supposed to be?” Ed snaps at the empty room.

“Tch,” He glares at the wall and its peeling white paint. What a weird unsettling guy. Suspicious as all hell.

So far Ed’s stay in this universe hadn’t exactly been smooth. He had arrived in a building collapsing around him, later revealed to be a fight between one of this world's 'heroes’ and ‘villains,’ mentally and physically exhausted from his sudden trip through the Truth’s Gate. From there it had been touch and go as he tried to find his footing, not get accidentally killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and avoid getting himself arrested for not having identification or a quirk licence which was apparently a pretty big deal in this word. With his poor track record, he is tempted to just pack up and not get involved with Tall-Dark-And-Smokey.

Only…

“A teleportation quirk…” He mutters, examining the wall more thoroughly and finding nothing out of place. It is the first time he has come across an ability like this. Against his better judgment, curiosity takes root. How far could it teleport? What were the conditions? Did it consume energy? What sort of energy and how much? What were the limitations? A lot of these weird abilities, quirks, had just as weird limitations.

Maybe this was the breakthrough he needed.

Ed’s alchemical research into escaping this world had long been stalled upon the realisation that the only way back to Amestris would be the same way he had left. Through the Gate of Truth. It would require an alchemy array the size of a small city and a sacrifice akin to a thousand human souls…possibly more…He hadn’t had the heart to make the exact calculations. There was no point in calculating the exact number of deaths required for him see his brother again. It wasn’t an option so he wasn't entertaining it. However, if he could somehow bypass the Gate, maybe by using some sort of quirk, then perhaps there was still hope for him. Teleportation had been one of the ones he had been on the lookout for.

Ed clenches his metal fist, reaching for the envelope with the other, hoping for a distraction. He almost expects it to be some sort of scam. Instead, he is meant with a stack of the place’s currency, neatly bound together.

It is a lot of money.

He stares in disbelief, slowly pulling out the bills and running his finger over them. It is more money than all his repair jobs and his periodic pawning of ‘family heirlooms’ have made him since coming here. With this, he would be able to pay actual rent and any other bills for the next month and then the month after. Heck, he’d be able to buy himself some decent meals, a new computer and a better phone on top of that.

Ed shoves the money back in the envelope and lets out a long, frustrated breath. There had to be a catch. No one just gave away this sort of money without reason. Not in the shithole of an area he’d set himself up in. Who the hell was willing to just throw money at someone to build goodwill? It sounded like the sort of suspicious behaviour that, had he encountered it on one of his missions, he would have reported it back to Mustang for further investigation. Not like he can just report stuff here, not without bringing unwanted scrutiny.

Ordinarily, Ed would have scoffed and refused the obviously illegal work. However, a quirk was one of his best chances of getting home. Maybe, if he accepted this work, he could bargain for information on the guy's teleportation ability. Not like he hadn’t done other illegal things since arriving here.

What would Alphonse say? Al was always better at reading people. Maybe he would tell him not to get involved with shady types? Or maybe he would say that Ed was too paranoid and he should give them a chance. Then again, his brother might caution him against it and tell him it was his duty to send in an anonymous tip to the nearest police station. Probably the last one. God damnit he misses Al. Ed stuffs the envelope into his shoulder bag, the one containing a portable automail maintenance kit and encoded alchemy notebooks.

Next, he is pulling on his signature coat, coloured grey instead of bright red because red stood out and as much as he hated it, he needed to keep a low profile. Ed shuffles out of his makeshift shop, turning to lock the door. He needed more information and his four months in this world hadn’t left him entirely without contacts.

Part 2: here

#fma brotherhood #bnha #crossover #fanfication #edward elric #Kurogiri #dimension travel au #end of year WIPs #fanfiction #Baku no hero academia #fullmetal alchemist

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foxghost · 4 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 6

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang

Book 1, Chapter 2 (part 3)

“Black sky yellow earth, vast universe all chaos; sun and moon wax and wane, constellations spread through the sky; cold comes, heat leaves, fall harvests winter keeps; extra days make a month, add it up and you find the solstice …”

As he sways back and forth through the morning recitation, checking against the “Thousand Character Classic” issued by the Illustrious Hall, Duan Ling learns one character after another during the first fortnight until he knows the greater part of them.

The teacher points at one phrase with the punishment ruler, and Duan Ling reads it aloud; the teacher points at another, Duan Ling reads it once more aloud — rinse and repeat.

“What’s this one?” The teacher asks.

“Lord,” Duan Ling sits up straight and answers.

“And this?” The teacher points at another.

He can’t answer it, and the teacher bestows a slap to Duan Ling’s palm with his ruler. Duan Ling endures it, not daring to yelp out loud, his palm stinging with painful heat.

“Jade torus.” The teacher crisscrosses through rows of school children, saying offhandedly, “Like the Jade Torus of He, or the ‘bi’ in Yubiguan.2 Elegant gentleman, like jade tablet like jade torus.3 Next one.”

Duan Ling keeps rubbing his hands, pressing his left hand onto the ice-cold porcelain side of his brush-washing cup. The teacher goes around asking the students questions one by one, also gifting slaps with his ruler one by one. The overcast sky grows darker, but it’s only when the bell rings outside does the teacher say, “Class dismissed.”

The kids erupt in boisterous cheers and take to their heels. It’s the first day of the month, the day they get to go home for their days off. Carriages and whinnying horses crowd the street outside the Illustrious Hall, forming an impenetrable mass; many children stick their heads out to look around as though looking forward to a festival. Duan Ling has been waiting all this time — waiting for Lang Junxia to come get him. The first few days were downright torture, but as the holiday approached somehow his agitation has calmed.

The gatekeeper chants their names out one by one, and anyone whose name is called is picked up; many climb onto the fence to look around, but they’re driven down again, beaten or threatened to the ground by their ruler-yielding headmaster.

Duan Ling stands on the steps, looking out at the street on tiptoes. Lang Junxia is always taller, like a crane standing among a flock of chickens, so he’ll be able to see him right away, but Lang Junxia isn’t here.

He must be stuck behind the traffic in the alley. It’ll probably take some time before Lang Junxia can come into the alley on a horse.

“Yuan Estate — young master Yuan.”

“Lin family —”

The gatekeeper belts out the names and the children go out one by one, leaving the name plaques that hang by their waist in the Hall’s safekeeping. There are less and less children left in the front courtyard, and Duan Ling starts to think that Lang Junxia Is probably held up by something.

“Cai family — young master Cai.”

Cai Yan comes out and nods at the other schoolchildren. Duan Ling is still looking around, so he spots Cai Yan right away. Cai Yan waves back at him. “Where’s your dad?”

“He’ll be here soon.” Duan Ling doesn’t explain to Cai Yan that the one coming to get him isn’t his dad. Cai Yan walks out of the front gate, and a young man on a great big horse lets Cai Yan sit in front of him and takes him away. Duan Ling stares at the young man on the horse with envy; the man shoots Duan Ling an indifferent glance before turning and making the horse trot away.

Half an hour later, only about a dozen of them are left in the courtyard, and the alley outside the Illustrious Hall is getting less and less crowded. When the gatekeeper finishes calling out the last name, the only ones still standing where they began are Duan Ling and the youth who banged him against the bell. Tired from standing, Duan Ling has moved to sit on the steps, and the youth has switched to his other leg as he leans on the front gates, looking outside.

The headmaster and the teachers have changed clothes, and they pass by in front of Duan Ling. They cup their hands at each other, and opening their respective umbrellas, they head home for the holidays.

The gatekeeper closes the front gates. The very last ray of sunset turns a dark purple, casting shadows of pine trees by the wall.

The gatekeeper says, “Leave your name plaques here. If anyone comes later naturally we’ll let them in to get you.”

The youth walks over first and hands in the wooden plaque hanging by his waist, but he doesn’t go, just stands there absently watching. Duan Ling notices that the name “Borjigin Batu” is carved on the plaque.

“Then what do we do?” Duan Ling asks, a bit apprehensively. He looks up trying to find the young man named Batu to find that he has already left.

The gatekeeper replies, “Go to the dining hall and get some dinner. Once you’re done, keep waiting, do whatever you’re supposed to be doing. If no one comes to get you, bring your bedding to the second floor of the library at night and sleep there.”

Duan Ling has been waiting for nearly a fortnight and all the hopes that filled his heart have fallen through. He’s never felt so dejected, yet he still believes that Lang Junxia will come. After all, Lang Junxia has never missed an appointment before, and has always been as good as his word. Maybe he’s being kept back by something, momentarily occupied and can’t get away.

Duan Ling returns to his room, tidies up his things, then he hears the bell in the front courtyard again. It tugs at his heart and he rushes over to see. From far away he catches a glimpse of Batu’s back as he leaves.

Duan Ling suddenly gets it. Batu is calling him to go have dinner.

Whatever youthful resentment between them is already long forgotten; hatred comes quickly, and is forgotten just as quickly. Duan Ling no longer feels any kind of enmity towards him. On the contrary, he feels some measure of mutual commiseration.

During these two days off, around six workers will stay behind to take care of things. The kitchen has made a giant pot of stew, and they line up to get their food, the gatekeeper included. Two oil lamps are lit in the dining hall, and only one table is set. Duan Ling walks over with his bowl of food. When Batu sees that there’s no place for him to sit, he scoots over a bit to give him room.

While Duan Ling is hesitating, Batu looks a bit annoyed but he finally opens his mouth to say, “I’m not going to hit you. Sit. You that scared of me?”

Duan Ling thinks to himself, who’s scared of you? His pride will make it kind of hard for him to simply sit down but he can’t exactly eat out of his bowl standing up and so he has no choice but to sit down next to Batu.

What if Lang Junxia really won’t come? Duan Ling’s heart is at sixes and sevens, but he turns around and consoles himself right away — Lang Junxia will definitely come. In all likelihood the Viburnum may just be keeping him late for dinner and drinks, and he can’t just leave.

Perhaps Lang Junxia is drunk, and once he sobers up he’ll come get him.

After dinner, Duan Ling returns to his room to wait for a while longer. During days off the Illustrious Hall saves on charcoal by keeping the braziers unlit, making the room as cold as an ice cellar, and Duan Ling can’t sit still, pacing back and forth. Recalling the gatekeeper telling him that they’re staying the night in the library, he thinks there must be a fire and a place where he can warm up, thereupon he rolls up his bedding, picks them up with some difficulty, and takes them all the way through the back courtyard to the library.

All the servants are already there, their bedding spread throughout the first floor. There’s a charcoal stove outside the corner of the building that never goes out, sharing a chimney with the kitchen, and the buried heated pipes provide all the dehumidifying that the book pavilion, the bamboo-scrolls room, and the room where long scrolls are kept may need to prevent moisture or the freezing temperature from breaking down old scrolls and documents, preventing solid ink from cracking.

As soon as Duan Ling comes in, a worker tells him, "Young master, you’re a scholar. Please go to the second floor.

Even though the second floor is dark and gloomy, it’s very warm. Outside the carved window panels the snow scene looks as bright as in daytime; snowflakes cast their flowing, fragmentary shadows on the near-transparent window paper, creating a soft glowing light. Great tall bookshelves tower above them row on row, and a single lantern is lit on a wide wooden table beneath their crisscrossing shadows,

All around them on the shelves are book collections, long scrolls, and wooden-strips tied together into scrolls. When the Liao emperor invaded the south during his southern expedition, he thoroughly plundered the Han capital. As he was exceedingly fond of books and documents, he shipped it all away, storing them in Shangjing, Zhongjing, and Xijing.4 There are even authentic calligraphy from great masters of the previous dynasties among these.

Before the battle of Huai River,5 all these books used to be stored in the Chen Emperor’s imperial academy library, and ordinary people would never get the chance to see them. But now they’re covered in the dust of history, quietly standing in the dim yellow light of a single lamp, their covers concealing who knows how many sages’ souls since ancient time.

In the light, Batu spreads out his bedding and puts down a pillow. Duan Ling can’t make up his mind whether he should go over there, but Batu doesn’t even bother giving him a single glance before heading to the shelves to pick out a book. It’s just like the proverb says, enemies are doomed to meet on narrow roads … Duan Ling thinks that even though he hasn’t thought of Batu as anything like an archenemy, he just feels somewhat uneasy. Batu probably feels the same — neither child thinks they need to ignore the other, it’s just that neither one of them wants to be the first to suggest they make peace.

Thus Duan Ling folds out his own bedding on the other side of the long table, with a lamp between them like the middle line that divides a chess board — a line neither will cross. He too, goes to find a book to pass the time better while he waits for Lang Junxia to come.

Duan Ling has just barely started learning to read, so reading is quite straining. He can only read books with a lot of pictures in them. Accidentally coming across a copy of “Plant Encyclopedia” filled with bizarre illustrations of myriad medicinal ingredients and insects, Duan Ling can’t help but laugh as he reads. On looking up though he realises that across the table, Batu is staring at him.

Batu seems even less in the mood to read than Duan Ling; he’s touching one book one moment and flipping another the next. There’s a pile of books before him, each one’s pages are flipped no more than a few pages before it’s discarded to one side. Batu changes the way he sits, scratches his neck, then a bit later he takes off his top and ties his outer garment around his waist to sit there bare to the waist, then it’s no time again before he finds it too cold, and he throw the blanket half over himself — looking like an unkempt hooligan.

Even Duan Ling is losing the motivation to read while watching him. He yawns, half sprawled on the table, and stares off into space. From a distant alleyway, a watchman’s clappers clap out the hour through the snow storm; it’s three hours to midnight already and Lang Junxia still isn’t here.

— Maybe he won’t come at all tonight.

Suddenly Duan Ling is overcome with a motley collection of thoughts. He thinks, and thinks some more; it’s been more than a month since Lang Junxia carried him out of the Duan family home, and Duan Ling has been thinking everyday. Over time he’s learned a great deal of things, but he still doesn’t know why Lang Junxia took him out of there.

My name is Duan Ling, my dad is Duan Sheng … Duan Ling repeats these words over and over in his head. Did Lang Junxia bring him to Shangjing because he was entrusted by “Duan Sheng” to do so? If that’s the case, why doesn’t my dad come see me? Before Lang Junxia left, he said, “I still have work to do,” well what sort of work is it? Maybe he’s not all that important in Lang Junxia’s eyes — he’s just the same as a kitten or a puppy, a matter over and done with once he’s settled. Lang Junxia would send Duan Ling’s dad a letter, and whether he lives or dies, Lang Junxia has fulfilled his duty to the utmost.

Duan Ling lies on his bedding, tossing and turning, and his mind gives him a near hopeless thought — maybe Lang Junxia is never going to come.

What reason does Lang Junxia have that he must come get Duan Ling? They’re neither family nor old friends; is he supposed to come get Duan Ling just because he promised he would?

Duan Ling reaches beneath his lapel, his fingers caressing the jade arc inside the cloth pouch, and an ineffable sorrow wells up in his heart that refuses to go, dragging him down into deeper and deeper despair. Maybe Lang Junxia has been lying to him all along; the same way that when his mother passed away the cook told him that maybe his dad would come. And so Duan Ling waited for him for a long, long time, but his dad didn’t come either.

Maybe Lang Junxia is also like that. Maybe those words were nothing more than words to cheer up a child. He probably won’t come back.

Duan Ling buries his face in the blankets as his mind spirals, trying to make himself feel better.

Batu hears the noise, and observes Duan Ling with puzzlement through the narrow gap beneath the short table. Watching how Duan Ling keeps twitching about under the covers, he nimbly flips himself onto the table and slides to the other end.

“Hey.” Batu says next to Duan Ling’s ear. “You crying? Why’re you crying?”

Duan Ling ignores him. Batu kneels on the table on one knee, gripping the edge, straining to bend down and open Duan Ling’s covers, but Duan Ling has a tight grip on them.

Batu sticks out a bare foot from atop the table and gives Duan Ling’s blanket a kick, then he rolls off the table, and rips the blanket open to reveal Duan Ling’s face. Duan Ling isn’t crying, just frowning real hard with a deep furrow between his brows.

Batu sits down cross-legged and watches Duan Ling carefully. Duan Ling stares back at Batu. The look in both their eyes seemingly contain an odd-sort of tacit understanding. Finally, Duan Ling turns away.

“Don’t cry.” Batu says, “Bear with it. Suck it up.”

Batu’s words are impatient words, but he doesn’t sound at all like he’s looking down on Duan Ling — he’s saying it like that’s also how he got over things.

He reaches out, puts a hand on Duan Ling’s head, and slowly strokes down. Then he gives Duan Ling’s arm a pat.

Suddenly, Duan Ling feels a lot better.

That day, Batu is ten, and Duan Ling is eight and a half; lamplight flickers in the library, a single flame as small as a bean that penetrates through a sky filled with snow, illuminating Duan Ling’s new memories. The snow seems to have covered his dark past, and in this very moment his troubles are vividly altered.

The distinct line of light that divides Batu and Duan Ling appears to divide them into two distinct worlds. Strangely, Duan Ling finds that his past memories have become blurry; he no longer clings to the beatings and the ridicule the Duans gave him, and the marks that hunger has carved into his bones seem to lessen.

“Your name is Duan Ling. Your dad is Duan Sheng.”

With that single stroke of Lang Junxia’s brush, the stains and spots that sullied the plain white paper of Duan Ling’s life vanished one by one, but perhaps it was instead concealed by a deeper shade of ink. What troubles him now are no longer what used to trouble him.

“He doesn’t want you anymore,” Batu says lackadaisically.

Duan Ling and Batu lean against the table shoulder to shoulder, sitting on the floor hugging their blankets, staring out blankly at the painting hanging across from the book pavilion.

“He promised me he’d come,” Duan Ling says stubbornly.

“My mom said that in the kind of world we live in, no one really belongs to you.” Batu stares at the painting, gold and green intertwining in a depiction of Cangzhou prefecture. He says unhurriedly, “Wife and children, parents and brothers, falcons flying in the sky, fine horses galloping along the ground, gifts bestowed by the Khan himself …”

“… And nothing is promised to you, either. The only thing you can be sure of is yourself.” Batu is looking down, cracking his knuckles, saying this as though he’s thoroughly unconcerned.

Duan Ling turns his head to watch Batu. There’s a natural stench of sheep on him that blends into his long-unwashed animal-skin gown. His hair is greasy too.

“Is he your dad?” Batu asks.

Duan Ling shakes his head.

Batu tries again. “A retainer?”

Duan Ling shakes his head. Batu looks perplexed. “Don’t tell me he really is the child-kept husband6 your family arranged? Where’s your dad? Your mom?”

Duan Ling is still just shaking his head; Batu stops trying to press the issue.

A long time passes.

“I don’t have a dad.” Duan Ling says to Batu, “I’m a bastard.”

The truth is, he knows that when Lang Junxia tells him your dad’s named Duan Sheng it could be nothing more than a made-up excuse. Otherwise, why has he never brought up this “Duan Sheng”?

“How about you?” Duan Ling asks.

Batu nods. “My dad abandoned me long ago. He said he’d bring me home once a month, but now it’s been more than three months since I’ve seen him.”

“They’re all just lies.” Duan Ling says to Batu, “If you don’t believe them, you won’t be fooled.”

Batu sounds disinterested. “Yeah, but I’d still believe it occasionally.”

“Are you fooled a lot too?” Duan Ling asks.

“Not really.” Batu turns over; he lies on the floor, meeting Duan Ling’s eyes. “I used to be, a lot. Not so much now. But if you knew … why’d you still believe him?”

Duan Ling stops talking. He once thought Lang Junxia would never lie to him. After all, he’s not like other people.

The night grows darker, and the only noise left in the world is that of snowflakes falling. They lie there, one on his stomach and one on his back, the blankets smelling of Batu, the body odor of young men. They don’t even know when they end up falling asleep. Duan Ling doesn’t have much hope anymore; he knows that Lang Junxia won’t come tomorrow, and he won’t come the day after tomorrow either. It’s exactly like the way adults often used his non-existent dad to lie to him when he was still with the Duans.

“Hey, bastard, your dad’s here to get you!”

They said those words countless times, and at first Duan Ling fell for it every time, but he got smarter and stopped trusting them. But the adults got smarter too, and came up with novel ways to fool him. Sometimes they’d tell him a guest had arrived and Lady Duan had called for him to see the guest, and so Duan Ling would run there filled with expectation only to dirty the sitting room with his shoes and of course he’d end up getting beaten again.

Sometimes they’d pretend to whisper at each other in front of Duan Ling, and as though accidentally divulge just the tiniest bit of information. In the end they’d laugh in satisfaction at his reaction and disperse in the hubbub — they all loved to watch him cry.

From now on, he’ll be abandoned here, but school is a much better place than the Duan home. In comparison, on this point at least, Duan Ling is quite satisfied. One must be satisfied with one’s lot; that’s something a scabby Buddhist monk told him when he came begging for alms. Even though in the end the monk also died in Shangzi …

Duan Ling’s dream wanders and digresses, filled with a serene, peaceful atmosphere. But just as he starts dreaming of that river in Shangzi, the green of it at the cusp of spring turning to summer glittering with golden sunlight, Batu shakes him awake.

“Hey,” Batu says, “someone’s here to get you.”

Drowsy-eyed, Duan Ling looks all sleepy. Another hand falls onto him but Batu vigilantly blocks it.

“Is it him?” Batu asks.

Lang Junxia says softly, “Duan Ling, I’ve come to get you.”

Duan Ling startles with a shudder and opens his eyes. He stares at Lang Junxia incredulously, then looks at Batu.

Batu holds the lamp and shines its light into Lang Junxia’s face suspiciously. Lang Junxia looks uncomfortable about the light in his face, but Batu is worried that Duan Ling can end up being kidnapped by someone who doesn’t have anything to do with him, so he keeps asking, “Is it him or not?”

Duan Ling replies, “It’s him.” And he reaches out to wrap his arms around Lang Junxia’s neck, making Lang Junxia pick him up.

“Thank you for looking after him,” Lang Junxia says to Batu.

Batu looks obviously annoyed and sets the lamp down. Duan Ling is so sleepy that he can barely open his eyes; he wants to say something to Batu, but Batu burrows his way beneath the table back to his own bedding, and with a flip of his blankets he hides his face completely behind them.

Through the snowstorm, all of Shangjing is asleep as they meet the coldest time of the year. Lang Junxia wraps Duan Ling in a blanket and spurs their horse at full speed. With the bitingly cold wind, Duan Ling wakes a little, and he notices that they’re not heading to the Viburnum so he asks, “Where’re we going?”

“New home,” Lang Junxia answers offhandedly. He seems to have a lot on his mind.

New home! Duan Ling is all at once fully awake. He thinks, no wonder Lang Junxia is late — he was actually setting up their new home.

He raises his head to look at Lang Junxia, and thinks he looks quite pale. He must be tired.

“Are you sleepy?” Duan Ling can feel Lang Junxia leaning on him, and reaching up, Duan Ling strokes his head.

“No.” Lang Junxia seems quite drowsy. After Duan Ling wakes him, he tries his hardest to stay awake.

“Have you eaten?” Duan Ling asks.

“Yeah,” Lang Junxia answers, and wraps an arm around Duan Ling. His hand is very cold, not at all like how it usually is.

“Where’s the new home?”

Lang Junxia doesn’t say anything. Beneath them, the horse makes a turn into a secluded alley through the deserted marketplace, and in the deep darkness of the night they enter a courtyard. Overjoyed, Duan Ling doesn’t even wait for Lang Junxia to get the horse settled before dashing into the house with a cheer.

The door of the new residence hasn’t been locked; the inside of the place looks dilapidated, a single courtyard surrounded by six rooms and one connecting veranda. The lantern that should be hanging outside the doors isn’t lit; it lies discarded behind the gates. Duan Ling asks, “Are we going to live here from now on?”

“Yes,” Lang Junxia answers simply. Duan Ling faces the courtyard and begins to laugh; he can hear Lang Junxia closing and barring the doors behind him.

Then immediately, there is a crash and Lang Junxia collapses, crushing a trellis that hasn’t been set up, falling into a pile of snow.

Duan Ling turns around in shock, and finds Lang Junxia sprawled on the ground, motionless.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you read this anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Yubiguan is written with the characters “jade, jade-torus, gate”. ↩︎

He missed a line in the middle. “Like bronze like tin.” There is actually a whole poem in the Book of Songs that describes what a beautiful gentleman is supposed to be like. Link to a translation, not mine. ↩︎

Shangjing, Zhongjing, and Xijing means Greater/upper capital, central capital, and western capital respectively. (See ref page for map.) ↩︎

It’s a river on the northern border of Southern Chen on the map. (On the eastern edge.) This has nothing to do with the historic Battle of Huai River. ↩︎

Child-kept husband isn’t really a word; usually it’s child-kept wife. You can read about tongyangxi here. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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blossom-hwa · 4 years

Text

Fall [Spiral] - MARK |Swing!|

There are some spoilers for Captain America: Civil War in this chapter, so spoiler alert! Once again, thank you @deathbykpopboys for inspiring this series :)

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing, violence, PANIC ATTACKS IN THIS CHAPTER (I in no way meant to romanticize these triggers. If you feel I did, please let me know and I will fix it.)

Word Count: 7.5k

As the year goes on, the world starts crashing down.

Arc { 1 - Drifting Apart | 2 - Coming Home } >> Fall { 1 - Spiral | 2 - Rise } >> Release

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

A couple of weeks pass. Dr. Charles Roberts and several other people are arrested. Things go more or less back to normal here at home. There’s a shitshow happening on the international scale – someone fucking killed the king of Wakanda and tried to take out a whole UN conference with him, and apparently the Winter Soldier is involved, what the fuck is up with that – but at home, things are okay.

The university labs are more or less fixed, so you start heading back there after school. It takes some time to get used to the new layout of things, but the explosion didn’t touch too much – Wang’s lab was much farther down the hall. AcaDec takes a new member, a sophomore named Ash, who’s smart but can’t seem to really fill the hole that Lia left on the team. You find that you do miss her presence.

Patrolling is no longer filled with stewing silence. Instead, it’s comfortable again. Peaceful. You and Mark don’t swing through opposite sides of the city now. You still split up to cover more territory, but you’re never more than a few minutes of swinging from each other.

The cuts heal. The bruises fade. The scars appear, barely paler than your skin, and far fewer of them than you’d expect. Johnny and Mei don’t suspect anything.

So things are back to normal. For the most part.

Until they aren’t.

You and Mark are walking home one day from the bus stop. It’s early evening, but you don’t plan to patrol tonight. Mei just got a raise, so Johnny’s planned a little celebratory dinner for all four of you. It’ll be fun.

Mark stops first. Lost in thought, you don’t notice until you bump into him. “The fuck, Mark –”

And then you see the fanciest, sleekest, most bougie fucking car you’ve ever seen, parked right in front of your shitty little apartment.

You’re burning with questions as the two of you ascend the stairs. How did anyone here get the money for that car?

“Johnny!” you yell, flinging open the door.

“Hello to you too, troublemaker children,” Johnny calls from somewhere. “How was school?”

“Boring,” Mark yells.

“Also boring here, but Dr. Wang made something explode on accident in the lab today.” You carefully leave out the part where the explosion brought you back to that terrifying night on the beach and you spent a couple seconds hyperventilating before one of the graduate students, Yuta, helped you calm down. You drop your bags in the kitchen, then come out to the small living room. “But there’s this crazy fucking car parked outside –”

Mark’s footsteps stop behind you.

You fall silent.

Because Tony fucking Stark is sitting on your tiny ratty couch next to Mei and Johnny, scrutinizing one of Mei’s (probably awful) cookies between his fingers. His eyes flicker toward you, then Mark, and he smiles. “Oh, Ms. L/N, Mr. Lee!”

Mark mumbles something under his breath that sounds something like “dreaming.” You pinch yourself.

Definitely not dreaming.

“Um.” You take a breath, trying to wrap your head around the fact that Tony fucking Stark is in your living room. “Hi?” You wince when that comes out more like a question than a greeting. “I’m Y/N…”

“I’m Mark,” Mark echoes, sounding vaguely dazed.

“Tony,” Tony fucking Stark introduces himself. As if any of you here didn’t know who he was already.

“Uh…” You rack your brains for a polite way to say what you’re thinking. “What… what are you doing here?”

Nice, Y/N, real nice. That’s the definition of polite right there.

“Well, it’s about time we met.” Tony fucking Stark starts winking. Actually, you can’t tell if it’s just a tic or if he’s actually winking. “You’ve been getting my emails, right?”

Definitely winking.

“Yeah…?” Mark replies. “Right. Um, emails about the…”

“You didn’t tell us about the grants!” Mei bursts out.

“Right, the grants.” You swallow. “Um…”

“September Foundation,” Tony fucking Stark supplies. “Research projects. Remember when you applied?”

You nod mutely, feeling slightly sick. Johnny looks something between super elated and incredibly proud and utterly betrayed. He catches your eye and mouths we’re talking about this later.

Something inside you wilts and dies.

Tony fucking Stark smiles. “Well, I approved!” He puts down the cookie. “So now we’re in business.”

“Do you visit all the people to whom you give grants, Dr. Stark, uh, sir?” Mark asks timidly.

“Oh, please don’t call me Doctor. I don’t like that. Mister is fine. And no, just a few.” Tony fucking Stark – you need to stop adding “fucking” there like it’s his middle name – winks again. “We don’t usually give grants to high schoolers, you see, so every time we do, we do something a little special.”

Do you usually do special things for high schoolers who never applied for your grant in the first place?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Johnny pipes up. He pouts slightly, and you want to melt into the ground out of embarrassment. Why is he pouting. “What’s up with that?”

“Well, uh…” You bite your lip, racing to come up with a believable lie. “We didn’t actually think we were going to get it? Since, uh, on the website, it says that high schoolers are rarely given grants and are discouraged from applying…” You swallow. “So we just didn’t tell anyone we applied.”

Tony fuckin – Tony Stark looks at you appraisingly. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing.

“But even after you got it?” Mei looks between you and Mark. “You couldn’t tell us when you got it?”

Surprisingly, Mark steps up. “Um, well, we know you love surprises.” He scratches the back of his neck. “So we just wanted to wait for the… right time? To surprise you? Didn’t want to steal your thunder with the raise…” His voice cracks slightly at the end of his sentence. You stifle a snicker.

Tony fuck – Tony Stark picks up the cookie again and takes a bite. “This cookie is exceptional,” he says, winking at Mei.

He’s lying. Mei can’t bake. She can barely cook, and then only the most basic things. Why the fuck is he lying –

Oh, no no no, fucking NO, Tony fucking Stark is NOT flirting with Mei.

As it turns out, Tony fucking Stark is flirting with Mei.

You glance at Mark to see him looking extremely uncomfortable and ready to die. Johnny’s looking at you with an evil, amused smile on his face, so he won’t be helping. You decide to put Mark out of his misery.

“Okay, uh, so what exactly did we apply for again?” you say loudly. “Because it was a long time ago. I don’t know if we’ve started on new projects since then.”

“That’s what I’m here to hash out!” Tony Stark flashes a winning smile. “Can I get a few minutes with these two lovely children?”

A chorus of “Sures!” and “Of courses!” sounds from the two other adults sitting on the couch. You zip over to your room, ignoring Mark and Tony fuck – Tony Stark following behind, and immediately slam the door shut.

. . . . .

There are a few seconds of silence before Mark finally decides to cut the crap. “Okay, so, uh, neither of us actually applied for your grant –”

“Nuh uh.” Tony Stark holds up a hand. “Me first.”

Mark shuts up.

“I have a quick question of the, let’s say, rhetorical variety.” He holds up the latest Starkphone – shit, it’s nice – which projects a hologram of Mark swinging off a building and kicking a mugger in the head. You swoop down a second later, pulling another one out of a car.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

“No,” you snap. “No, that’s not us.”

Mark is ever thankful that you’re by his side, because there’s no way he could keep talk without stuttering right now.

The hologram video changes to Mark catching a speeding vehicle just before it crashes into a building, then to you dodging a hail of bullets. Tony Stark raises an eyebrow. “Look at you go. Impressive.”

“That’s – that’s all on YouTube, you know that, right?” Mark can hear your heart thudding and takes over. “Like, it could be anyone, obviously. Or anything.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” Tony Stark begins looking around the room. “Like those UFOs in Phoenix…”

“Yeah!” Mark nods quickly. “Exactly –”

And then Tony Stark flips up your mattress, revealing the suit neatly folded beneath it. “Oh, what have we here?”

Fuck –

You snatch up the clothes so fast Mark barely realizes you’ve done it. Your eyes are wide.

Utter silence falls in the room.

“So, you two are the spiderkids. Crime fighting spider-people.” Tony Stark raises an eyebrow. “Spider…lings? Spiderboy, Spidergirl…”

“Silk,” you mutter.

“Spiderman,” Mark mumbles. He thinks he’d like to jump off a cliff right about now.

“Not in those onesies, you’re not.”

Okay, that’s a low blow. Mark opens his mouth to retaliate, but you beat him to it. “Not a onesie if it consists of two articles of clothing,” you snap, shoving your clothes back under the mattress. “Can’t believe we were actually having a good day…”

You look like you’re going to start crying or screaming or both. Mark knows that look. It’s the look you get before you start getting really pissed.

He grabs your hand. “Calm,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. Your body relaxes slightly.

Tony Stark looks over at the two of you, both eyebrows raised. “Dating?”

“No,” Mark snaps, ignoring the slight twinge he feels when he says that. “Now seriously, why are you here?” Tony Stark might be one of his technological heroes, but if he doesn’t get to the point soon, he just might lose it.

The billionaire genius mutters something under his breath that Mark can’t quite hear, even with his enhanced hearing. Something about “dating” and “yeah right.”

Mark’s stomach curdles. His cheeks feel hot.

Tony Stark sits himself down on the bed. “Just wanted to thank you two.”

“For what?” you ask.

“You don’t remember?” He raises his hand, fluttering it like it’s flying. “Crashing jet full of dangerous alien tech? Vulture man?”

Oh, right.

The knowledge must register on your faces, because Tony Stark continues. “I’d heard a little bit about the two spiders swinging around Queens at night, but that was what made me actually curious about you two.” He leans his chin into his hand. “So who else knows?”

“One friend,” Mark gets out. “That’s it.”

“Really?” Tony Stark jerks an eyebrow at the door. “Not the older brother? Not the unusually attractive aunt?”

“Okay, no. Just no.” Mark rubs his face with his free hand. He hears a soft, disgusted eep issue from your throat. “No, Mei and Johnny do not know, because if they did, they’d freak the fuck out, and then we’d freak out, and that would be very bad for everyone.”

“Mhm.” Tony Stark throws something. You catch it without blinking an eye. It’s a little canister filled with a sample of your web fluid. “You know what I think is interesting? This webbing. Tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured it?”

You swallow. “I did.”

“Interesting. The… web shooting things?”

“Me,” Mark says.

Tony Stark whistles. “And sticking to walls? How do you do that?”

Both of you wince. “Long… story?”

But Tony Stark’s already pulled your suit back out from under the mattress and is peering into the pair of darkened goggles you’ve sewn into the mask. Next to him, Mark sees you cringe. “Lordy! How do you see in these things?”

You snatch the mask back with more force than necessary. “Heightened senses,” you snap. “Sometimes feels like everything’s caving in on you. Goggles make it easier to focus.”

A beat of silence.

“Well, that confirms it.” Tony Stark stands up, only to place himself down on your small desk chair. “You two are in dire need of some upgrades. Systemic. Full-body. One hundred percent. That’s the other reason I’m here.”

Mark can’t deal with this while standing up. He sits on the bed. You follow suit.

“So why do you do this?” Tony Stark waves a hand at the two of you. “I gotta know. What’s your MO? Motivation? What gets you out of bed and into the streets to do the police’s job for them?”

“Well, first of all, the police don’t fucking do their job, so jot that down,” you hiss, fingers digging into Mark’s palm. “Second…” You soften slightly. “If you have the ability to help people. Stop crime. If you have the ability but you don’t use it, and then shit happens…”

Mark takes over when you falter. “Then those things happened because of you.”

More silence.

“So you want to look out for the little guy, make the world a better place.” Tony Stark raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Move over.” Tony Stark stands up, motioning to the space on the bed next to you.

You move over.

“Got a passport?” He sits down and raises an eyebrow.

Well, yeah. But the two of you haven’t traveled in a long time, so you don’t know if they’re expired.

“Ever been to Germany?” Tony Stark presses.

“… No?”

He smiles. “Oh, you’ll love it.”

“We can’t go to Germany,” you say, bewilderment etched across your features.

“Why?”

“We have…” Mark winces before he says it. “Homework?”

Tony Stark, Mark’s technological hero, looks supremely disappointed and nonplussed at the same time. Mark thinks he wants to die. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Hey, I’m being serious!” Mark protests. “We literally took the SAT two weeks ago. We can’t just, I don’t know, drop out of school and go out of town –”

“Might be a little dangerous,” Tony Stark mutters, walking to the door. He places his hand on the doorknob. “Better tell handsome brother and Aunt Hottie I’m taking the spiderlings –”

A glob of webbing pins his hand to the door. Mark and Tony Stark swing their heads over to look at you.

“Don’t. Tell. Johnny. Or. Mei,” you enunciate carefully.

For a moment, there’s just dead silence, where Mark tries to figure out what the hell is actually going on and how his day went from being so boring to so eventful in such a bad way.

“All right, Silk.” Tony Stark nods, then points to the webs with his free hand. “Now get me out of this.”

. . . . .

You don’t know how Stark did it, but this suit literally fits you perfectly. Even as you’re hiding in your position, you can’t stop marveling about how smooth it feels against your skin.

It’s black and white, with a hood that keeps your hair back and a mask that somehow lets you breathe easily but is still tight against your skin. There are no visible holes for eyes, but some weird technology lets you see through the material anyway.

It feels perfect.

Tony Stark is a motherfucking genius.

A loud whooshing sound comes from the sky. From your vantage point, hidden inside one of the upper levels of the parking garage, you watch Iron Man and War Machine swoop down to meet Captain America in the middle of the airport.

“Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport,” Tony Stark says in the most deadpan voice possible, his helmet lowering to reveal his face.

You snicker slightly.

The two sides go back and forth for a bit. Mr. Stark didn’t explain the whole argument, citing the fact that you’re too young to understand (to which you bristled a bit), but he gave you your roles, and you’re not about to question him. Stay quiet and hidden, only come out if there’s actual fighting.

Mark, on the other hand, gets to do something you envy a bit.

He gets to take Captain America’s shield.

Just then, Mr. Stark yells the code word. “Underoos!”

You really stifle a laugh then as Mark swoops in, snatches the shield, webs Captain’s hands together, and lands on the roof of a nearby car.

“Nice job, kid,” Mr. Stark calls.

Somehow, even hidden behind the suit, Mark looks awkward. It’s both embarrassing and endearing at the same time.

Classic Mark. Can barely take a compliment. You cringe slightly as your best friend starts rambling.

“Well, I could’ve stuck the landing better, it’s just, uh, new suit – wait, no, it’s perfect, Mr. Stark, thank you –”

Thankfully, Mr. Stark cuts him off. “That’s good, kid.”

A beat of silence.

“Hey, everyone.” Mark waves awkwardly.

No one waves back. You cringe harder.

The awkward atmosphere turns serious when Mr. Stark opens his mouth again. “What are you doing, Cap?” He sighs so loudly you can hear it even from your hiding spot. “You’re being an idiot. You dragged in Clint, took Wanda from a place she didn’t want to leave, a safe place?” His eyes blaze. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart!”

You blink. What?

There’s more that you don’t understand. Something about turning over Barnes, no compunction about hurting people, and then Lang? Who’s Lang?

Apparently Lang is a small dude who becomes a regular-sized dude all in the process of kicking Mark’s face and returning Captain’s shield.

His suit looks like an ant.

You can practically hear the what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck running through Mark’s head as he stands up because you’re feeling it too.

“Two in the parking deck, one of them’s Maximoff,” Mr. Stark says. “I’m getting her. Rhodey, can you take Cap?”

Colonel Rhodes answers in the affirmative. “Got two in the terminal. Wilson and Barnes.”

“Cool. Spiderling? Got that? Keep your distance and web them up.”

“Yeah,” Mark replies, eyes narrowing. He jumps onto the terminal glass.

You race out of the parking garage, careful to stay hidden, then leap across to the terminal in plain sight to many yells of confusion on the ground below. Someone yells, “There’s another one?”

You smirk. “Ready?”

. . . . .

Mark thanks every god he can think of for his sticky abilities as he races across the glass, keeping Wilson and Barnes in sight. He lashes out with both hands, sending two strings of webbing onto the terminal overhanging, then shoves backward.

The momentum of his swing crashes him through the glass. He grits his teeth, waiting for the pain as glass shatters around him, but Mr. Stark has somehow made his suit so that the glass can’t pierce it, no matter how thin the material feels.

Genius.

Swinging through the new hole, you lash out with your feet and and Wilson goes down with a grunt. Another swing, and then Mark’s inside, ready to fight off Barnes.

He doesn’t even think when Barnes swings his arm. His mind flashes back to a fistfight he dealt with a few weeks ago, and on instinct, he catches Barnes’s fist in his hand.

The sound of metal hitting something fills the air. Mark looks, really looks, and sees that it was Barnes’s fist that made the sound.

“You have a metal arm?” Mark blurts out, unable to contain himself. “That’s so cool!”

And then Sam Wilson, apparently recovered from your kick, swoops in and lifts Mark right off the ground. As he tussles with the Falcon, Mark hears you engage Barnes and yell, “Shit, that metal arm really is awesome!”

See? He really can’t be blamed for how cool a bionic arm is, right?

Wilson twists around in midair, giving Mark the opening he needs to attach to the ceiling and swing out of his reach. A terminal sign falls under his weight as he leaps across steel beams, narrowly avoiding blasts of Wilson’s gunfire.

“DUCK!” you scream from farther below.

Mark’s danger sense already warned him, but your added reminder is helpful as he flattens himself on the beam, just in time for the ripped-off billboard to sail over his head like a large frisbee. “Get out of the way!” you yell, leaping onto the same beam just in time to web up Falcon’s chest, sending him spiraling to the floor. As he goes down, Mark webs up the engine pack on his back, then sticks him to the glass barricade around the escalator.

“Those wings carbon fiber?” you call, clinging to one of the directory posts nearby.

“This stuff coming out of you?” Wilson looks at the webbing on his hands in disbelief.

Mark fully ignores him. “Well, if it is, that’d explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio, which is fucking awesome.” You make a noise of agreement.

“I don’t know if you’ve been in a fight before, kid, but there’s not usually this much talking,” Wilson growls.

You snort, beckoning to Mark. “Well, if he wants to be unfriendly, guess we’ll just have to hack up the blueprints later.”

“My bad,” Mark echoes, then leaps back into the rafters as Barnes comes barreling over. One string of fluid and a well-placed swing later, he’s crashing through the glass escalator barrier, sending both men to the ground. From your position on the ceiling, you web them down before they can get back up.

“Hi hello, sorry about this, but all we had to do was impress Mr. Stark.” You shrug, leaping down to crouch next to him on another directory post. “We’d love to talk some more – especially about that bionic arm, that’s so cool, like the wings are cool but the arm is better, but –”

Mark sees Wilson’s hand move before you do. Just as you send out another string of webbing, something flies out, catches it and drags you out of the glass. “Oh, come on!” he hears you yell.

He tries to think of something clever to say to the pair lying on the ground before leaping off to follow you, but all he can come up with is, “For fuck’s sake.”

Mark doesn’t yell that aloud. He just mutters it under his breath before following you out of the terminal.

. . . . .

The rest of the fight, to put it lightly (and in Mr. Stark’s words) is a shitfest.

You think that you and Mark did fine, if there’s even a way you could measure fine in this kind of scenario. You guys actually manage to fuck around with Captain America for a bit until his physics-defying shield clocks Mark’s face.

Something rips apart in your chest during that one horrible second where Mark goes down and you can’t tell if he’s alive or dead. Inwardly, you swear that if Captain America killed your best friend, you’ll murder him, symbol of America or no.

Mark turns out to be fine. He rolls over and just gasps at the sky. You yell at him to stay away and then Captain America drops a passenger boarding bridge for planes onto your head, nearly causing you to spiral into memories of that time Adrian Toomes sent an entire building crashing down on you and Mark.

(“You got heart, kid.” Captain America looks at you appraisingly as your knees buckle under the weight of the bridge. “Where’re you from?”

Between a pounding heart and spiraling thoughts, you somehow manage to answer. “Qu-Queens.”

“Brooklyn.”

“As if –” you gasp, trying to head off the increasing panic – “my history teacher from Brooklyn didn’t repeat that bit of information about you twenty times in the space of one fucking hour.”

You’re not sure, but you think Captain America smiled at that.)

No, you two aren’t the problem. After Mark helps you out from under the bridge and uses his brilliance and love of Star Wars to come up with a fantastic plan to take down a now not-tiny Ant Man (“Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they’d like to disclose? I’m open to suggestions.” “Uh, no abilities here, but I’ve got an idea?”).

Ant Man’s hand eventually smacks you and Mark down. Mr. Stark then forces you to stay down with the threat of leaking your spidery secrets to Mei and Johnny, so you two limp out of the picture.

By the time Mr. Stark comes back to collect the two of you – Mark has a splitting headache, and you think you’re on the verge of an anxiety attack or something – the fight’s over. Captain and Barnes have escaped. The other “rogue” Avengers are going to some high-security prison. Colonel Rhodes might possibly be paralyzed.

Mr. Stark doesn’t look great when he tells you two the news. You think you’re just going to pass out.

Two perfect scores on the SAT cheer you up slightly. Johnny and Mei video call in the hotel room in Germany to congratulate you. But Mr. Stark’s anger at Colonel Rhodes’s state – well, more like anger at himself for not having saved his friend – dampens your moods more than slightly.

Mr. Stark apologizes to the two of you back at the hotel. “I’m sorry, kids.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t think this was really going to come to blows. I shouldn’t have brought you in, though.”

Neither you nor Mark knows exactly what to say to that other than a slightly concussed, “It’s fine.”

You get to keep the suits. Mr. Stark demands you let him know if anything malfunctions, though you have a feeling he’ll know anyway. He designed the suits – there’s no way he wouldn’t install some sort of tracking device or whatever that would let him know how damaged it is.

This Mr. Stark is a far cry from the cocky, flirtatious one you met back at the apartment. Here, you see a softer, more broken side of the confident guy that makes an appearance on TV. He’s nice, you realize. Kind. He’s got a lot of baggage, but he’s trying to do what’s right.

And isn’t that just what you and Mark are trying to do?

Mark’s concussion heals quickly. Mr. Stark postulates that your spider bites gave you speedier healing, which would make sense – now that you think of it, your cuts and bruises after that disastrous homecoming healed rather quickly, quickly enough that Johnny didn’t really notice them.

Mr. Stark takes the two of you back home after a couple of days of rest in the hotel. He’s all cordial smiles when Johnny and Mei come down to get you guys. You’re supposed to go to Stark Industries every Sunday now for regular suit repairs, under the guise that you’re conducting research with that grant he gave you.

Now, you’re not stupid enough to go around publicizing your sort-of relationship with Tony Stark. The man’s practically a god. But someone from school apparently saw the two of you getting out of his car the day you got back from Germany, so now people have a lot of questions they want you answer.

During the space of one week, Flash tries a grand total of five times to bully an answer out of you. Mark has to hold you back from clocking him in the face after the fifth time. After that, you tell everyone you have an internship at Stark Industries, and even though that just spawns more questions, there’s nothing more you’ll say about it.

So life goes on. No one at school knows about your spontaneous, long-weekend trip to Germany. Johnny and Mei just think it’s a perk of being chosen as a September Fund grant winner as a high school student. Only you and Mark know differently, and that’s good. It’s what you decided in the beginning, wasn’t it? You even webbed Tony fucking Stark’s hand to your door to prevent him from blabbing.

Life is normal. You go to school, work in the lab, practice for AcaDec, and patrol. Life is normal.

Until it isn’t.

. . . . .

Mark remembers the exact day he saw the first article. It’s December 15, about a month after Germany. He’s just scrolling through his phone at lunch, half-listening to Haechan complain about something or another, when the story pops up on his news briefing.

Spiderman and Silk: Friends or Foes?

Curious, he taps on the link.

Later, as he sits in physics, shell-shocked, he’ll wish that he never bothered to look at it. He never really searches himself up – it’s just kind of weird. After the fight in Germany, the two of you are more well-known than ever, but when he hears mentions of Spiderman or Silk at school or on the streets, it’s usually good stuff. Or neutral, at least. He hadn’t really felt the need to see what people online have to say about him until that day.

Mark doesn’t know what possessed him to open that article in the first place, but he wishes it had never happened.

Because it isn’t a friendly article. It denounces you and him as half-breeds, some sort of escaped experiment gone wrong. It doesn’t actually pinpoint what experiment or the company that fucked it up – for that, Mark is thankful – but it really does hurt to see that people don’t see the good you two are trying to do, just your strange abilities.

They don’t even think you two are human.

Some of the comments defend the two of you, pointing out the enhanced abilities of other heroes like Captain America. But far more agree with the article’s words, even going so far as to demand the two of you be tried as criminals and put in prison.

That, Mark thinks, is bullshit. Neither of you have ever killed anyone, just knocked people unconscious and webbed them up. Compare that to the gunfights, the muggings, the rapes that could have happened, and he doesn’t think those comments are justified.

But they stay in the back of his mind, and when you ask him why he’s brooding on the train ride to the labs, he’s forced to show you the article. He’s forced to watch you read it, watch your smile fade, and watch you try to put your usual confident face back on. “It’s just an article,” you say flippantly, handing back the phone. “And I think we’re doing fine.”

Mark half agrees. It is just an article, he knows that’s true. But he doesn’t think you really believe that.

Hell, he doesn’t even think he really believes that.

Still, he tries to explain away the extra hour of patrolling he tacks on for himself every night. He leaves you out of it, at first – he just stays on the rooftop for a while longer until he’s sure you’re in bed, and then swings around for a bit more.

Until the night (well, morning) that he returns from that extra hour to see you standing on the rooftop in your pajamas, arms crossed.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” is the first thing you say when he guiltily lands in front of you.

And of course, now he has to let you go with him.

So patrols extend. Mark tells you that it’s just because he wants to make sure he cleans up as much crime as possible. You take that reason with a nod and a “sure,” because even though you believe Mark is a good person to the core (you’ve told him this many times), you also read that article.

You’ve also caught him reading more.

He feels strangely guilty each time you pluck his phone out of his hands and exit the browser app, raising an eyebrow. When that doesn’t stop him, you resort to giving him a punch every time you catch him.

“Are you trying to, like, classically condition me?” Mark complains, rubbing his shoulder. Yeah, he’s extra strong now, but so are you. And your punches hurt.

“Pretty sure it’s operant conditioning. And yes, if that’s what it takes for you to stop reading those shit articles,” you snap, punching him again in the same spot.

It’s hard to stop, though. Mark doesn’t know how celebrities do it. He’s anonymous – he can count the number of people who know his secret identity on one hand – but he still feels so much pressure from these articles to prove them wrong.

But that’s hard to do when they all contradict each other. Some complain that he does too much. Some complain that he does too little. Others just dislike him in general and he really shouldn’t pay attention to those, but he can’t. Day by day, he forces himself to do more – swing faster, punch harder, help more people, put more criminals behind bars.

What else can he do?

. . . . .

You’ve suspected something was wrong with you ever since that explosion in Professor Wang’s lab, the day Tony Stark came to your apartment. Explosions, though uncommon, are still a part of lab life. Usually you’d just look up, snicker at whoever did it, laugh if it was Wang, and get back to work.

That day is the first time you freak out over an explosion. It wasn’t even that big or loud, either. Mei has definitely caused bigger messes in her own apartment.

But it doesn’t matter, because suddenly, you’re back on the beach under a pitch-black sky, feeling yourself being thrown backwards as metal vulture wings tear themselves apart in a shower of beautifully dangerous blue and purple sparks.

Yuta, once you’ve calmed down, tells you that you were hyperventilating. That makes sense. You remember a burning sensation in your chest and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could. When you’re finally calm, you’re shaking slightly, sweat beading your forehead.

At the time, you don’t plan to tell anyone about it. For all you know, it was just one isolated experience. It probably won’t happen again.

And then Captain America – who is very different from the PSA videos Coach shows you during PE – drops a passenger bridge onto you, sending you back under crushing concrete blocks. You can practically feel the dust clogging your throat and entering your nose as you struggle to respond to what the Captain is saying – because fuck if you’re going to show weakness to a superhero – and even though some part of your brain knows that what you’re feeling isn’t actually real, it feels like it is and that’s enough to start sending you spiraling.

Mark helps you out that time, helping push the bridge off of you even through his pounding headache. As you collapse on the ground, heaving, you’re not sure if he notices the imminent panic attack you’ve just managed to pull yourself out of. You really hope he doesn’t, because he doesn’t seem to be dealing with the same thing – flashbacks, panicking, hyperventilating.

What does it say about you that you are?

But once you get back from Germany, the panic attacks (you’re pretty sure that’s what they are – the symptoms seem to match, at least) subside. You relax back into your friend group, and even though school is more stressful than ever, things feel normal. You feel… fine.

Until Mark finds that article.

There’s a lot on your plate. Even before you got your spidery abilities, you were involved in a lot of things, most of which you haven’t given up because if you did that, a lot of people would get suspicious (or disappointed, which is almost worse).

You and Mark used to just not patrol on AcaDec practice or competition days. You also wouldn’t patrol on nights before big tests, or when you stayed late at the lab to finish something up. But now you do.

It isn’t that article, specifically, that causes you to double down on yourself and work harder than ever. That article was just about stupid things you can’t control, which basically consists of every ability you got after the spider bite. No, it’s the other articles, the ones that point out crime rates increasing and Spiderman and Silk not having enough of an effect on them, that first spawn the problem.

(You’re a hypocrite. You know that. You tell Mark to stop reading the articles because they’re bad for his health, but you read them too. You’re just better at hiding it.

It’s somehow addictive, reading the sickening things that people like to write about the two of you. It’s bad for you, and you know it. But you just can’t stop.)

Stress is a sneaky thing. It’s almost impossible to realize just how stressed you are, you think, until it’s too late. Johnny, when he was at university, put on a confident face for three weeks before midterms and then had a breakdown the day after he finished.

The same thing is happening with you, but you don’t notice it for a long time. The fact that crime rates are increasing just rests in the back of your mind, fueling the extra hours of patrol you do every night, even when you have tests or practice or research papers to write. Not to mention all your homework, too.

The rational part of your mind logically explains away the increasing crime rates. International-scale problems started increasing after the Avengers Initiative became public in 2012 because people believed they could go up against the Avengers and win. They drew the attention of aliens and evil public figures. It’s probably a similar thing here in Queens – people believe they can go up against you and Mark and win. You’ve caught their attention because you have the potential to take down malicious plans.

But what about the crime in other parts of New York, the places you can’t get to? Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. Queens is big enough on its own. You can’t tackle Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, and the Bronx too.

What do people even want you to do? Everyone always says to just do your best and that’ll be enough, but why is it that once you get a few new abilities, that suddenly isn’t the case?

You can’t save everyone. As much as you want to, you’re only one person.

You can’t.

Then the first panic attack after Germany happens.

You’re at home. You don’t even feel terrible. There are no flashbacks or anything to trigger it, so maybe you don’t have PTSD.

(That conjecture is the one good thing that comes out of this panic attack.)

You’re just lying in your bed, resting for a bit before you go out to patrol, when it suddenly feels like your chest is constricting and you can’t breathe.

Time doesn’t seem to flow. Your heart beats wildly, you’re hyperventilating, and you honestly think you’re about to die. When you finally come out of it, your phone tells you you’ve been stuck in your head for ten minutes.

It felt like so much longer.

You should probably call off patrols tonight. Your mind feels exhausted and you can barely drag your suit out from under your bed, but a recent article eggs you on – crime rates have been spiking recently, and New York’s newest spider vigilantes don’t seem to be doing much for it – so you wave Mark off when he asks if you’re okay and swing into the fading afternoon light.

The next day, you drag yourself to school feeling physically and mentally wiped out (someone decided a rape was necessary at around one in the morning, and you can still feel the poor girl trembling under your hands as you walked her to the nearest hospital) and you sit yourself down for a history test that will determine half of your semester grade.

It’s fine. The test is fine. You get an A, anyway. But the second you walk out of class, the chest pains start coming in again, and you all but sprint to the bathroom to safely panic in one of the stalls.

You’re not fine. You’re definitely not fine. A week later, someone bangs a locker door shut a little too loudly and you barely make it to the bathroom before you start hyperventilating. It’s like the world won’t fucking stop.

Then during winter break, there’s the fight with Johnny.

. . .

You don’t usually fight with your older brother. When you were younger and your parents were still alive, maybe. But after they died, the two of you only had each other, so the fights more or less stopped. Sure, there are the occasional petty spats that devolve into laughter and hugs, but that’s all.

Johnny isn’t stupid, you know. Even with speedier healing than normal, there are still sometimes cuts on your face and bruises on your arms that he can see. And one day, as you two sit down to dinner, he brings them up.

“So, what exactly do you do with your Stark grant?” he asks a bit too casually.

“Oh, I’m working on trying to synthesize that degradable plastic I started on with Wang,” you reply as coolly as possible. “Stark’s got a lot more supplies in his departments than Wang does, and for the most part, he lets Mark and I use whatever we need.”

“He really trusts you a lot,” Johnny says.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod.

“Okay, I’ll cut the crap.” Your brother sighs, putting down his chopsticks. “I don’t like your Stark grant… internship thing, Y/N.”

Several thoughts fly through your mind, but first and foremost is what the fuck?

“W… why?”

“You’ve been hiding things from me ever since you started with him.” Johnny gestures to your face and your arms. “There’s no way you could get scratches or bruises like that from working in a lab. I don’t know what Stark is doing, or whether or not you’re a willing participant in… whatever it is, but if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have you working there anymore.”

“I’m not doing anything dangerous!” you protest, even though you know that’s a lie. Well, it’s not really in relation with your Stark internship. “I’m just – clumsy!”

“Clumsy is Mark’s thing, not yours,” Johnny snaps. “Why are you lying to me?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect –

“Why do you want me to give up the best opportunity that’s come to me in years?” you retort, pushing your chair back.

“You want to talk about giving up things?” Your brother stands up, eyes blazing. “I gave up everything after Mom and Dad died!”

Something cold settles in your stomach. It’s just as you feared. Johnny’s given up so much, and what have you done? Compared to him, you’re so selfish for taking the opportunities that land in your path – AcaDec, working with Wang and now Mr. Stark.

But you can’t give up what you’re doing with Stark. He’s been teaching you and Mark how to repair your suits, but you can’t do it alone just yet. You need to keep learning. You need to keep going.

How can you explain this to Johnny without revealing everything?

A tear slips out of your eye before you realize. Johnny looks slightly stricken, like he didn’t mean to say what he did, but you can’t look at him. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Sorry that…” You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, you just know that you have to.

Then it clicks. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything,” you say around the lump in your throat. “If I could, I would. But I can’t.”

If anything, Johnny looks even more upset and confused than before. “Why can’t you tell me?” he asks, voice softer.

“I just can’t,” you say again, trying to convey just how impossible this whole situation is. “It’s not Mr. Stark’s fault. It’s not anything I’ve been doing with him. It’s just me. I… you can’t understand. Not now.”

“I think I should be the judge of that,” Johnny replies.

You shake your head firmly. “Not this time.”

Silence reigns. Your unfinished dinner bowls stand on the table, forgotten.

“I’ll tell you at some point,” you say, biting your lip hard. “You don’t have to trust me. I know how shady this all sounds. I’m not selling drugs or doing anything like that.” You try to breathe calmly. “I’m not going to stop my work with Mr. Stark. It’s important to me. I can give up other things, just not that.”

“Why?” Johnny’s talking again with an acid bite to his voice. “Is he like a father to you now?”

At that, you really flinch. “What?”

“Are you seriously replacing Dad with Tony Stark?” he snaps.

Your brain processes his words.

“What the fuck?” Now you’re angry too, and it’s taking all your effort not break literally anything in the room. Your fists clench into your sides so hard you can feel your nails biting into your palms. “How – how dare you?”

Johnny just looks at you like you’ve betrayed him. “It’s clear to see, Y/N.” His voice is softer, though no less cutting. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Memories of your own father flash through your head. You don’t know what Johnny is even thinking, but there is no way you could ever replace him. “You’re wrong,” you snap quietly. “You’re completely wrong.”

Then you walk to your room and slam the door shut.

The rest of winter break is awful. Neither you nor Johnny will apologize, and you spend a lot of time crying or heaving on your bed. It doesn’t feel like anything could get worse.

Then Mark gets himself shot.

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scarletjedi · 4 years

Text

Sangcheng Time Travel Fixit Outline Part 1: The Cloud Recesses

I finally figured out how this (17 page!) outline ends! Now posting can begin! Every day until I’m finished, I’ll post the next section of the outline. The goal is that it reads as, like, not!fic - and if you’ve ever chatted with me about fic, this format will be *very familiar* to you. There’s nothing explicit, though there is (semi)detailed references to *how* I’d write sex between two characters (Sangcheng, Wangxian)

Both narrative pieces that I’ve written and posted also have their homes on this outline. You can find them linked below. (Links are currently to the original tumblr post. AO3 links will be added once I’ve posted)

Enjoy!

This fic takes place in the Untamed/CQL verse with some minor details cherrypicked from the books - namely the fact that Wangxian are not only deeply in love, but very horny for each other.

We begin immediately post-canon, when Jiang Cheng drags Nie Huaisang back to Lotus Pier from the events of the Guanyin Temple.

This scene establishes where their relationship is, currently: two friends who had crushes on each other during their time in the Cloud Recesses, who drifted into a loose friends-with-benefits situation that petered out around the time Nie Huaisang became sect leader.

There were moments over the years where it might have happened started up again, but Jiang Cheng was grieving and has never met an honest emotion he couldn’t turn into anger and Nie Huaisang had begun to plot and couldn’t risk anyone being that close to him. There was mutual pining, but I’m not sure either of these delightful idiots knew recognized it in themselves

Jiang Cheng has *questions* and Huaisang has *answers* and he will get them…tomorrow. He’s tired and mostly just wants to drink with a friend he thought he lost - actual friends being a bit thin on the ground for both of them.

They are both tired, raw, and a bit bloody. They both need a night to lick fresh wounds (of both kinds). Jiang Cheng is reeling from purging (mostly) the poison from his relationship with Wei Wuxian (which might have left him with no relationship, and he doesn’t know what to DO with that), and Nie Huaisang has just completed a grand plan a decade in the making in a bloody, terrifying way that nearly killed everyone. It could have gone so wrong, but it worked, but people know and he doesn’t know what to DO with that, but he’s coming to realize that for all of his planning, he never figured out what to do *next*

They fall into bed together, for that kinds of “I need to feel something and you’re alive but also here but also hot” sex. Never underestimate the inherent homoeroticism of wound care

I feel like their relationship could be, like, reverse wangxian in that they fuck BEFORE *I would happily die for you but instead I will live for you* love

“Sangcheng Time Travel Fixit Chapter 1” (Tumblr | AO3)

They wake up the next morning…AT THE CLOUD RECESSES (bum bum BUM)

I thought about having them wake up in Lotus Pier/Qinghe but then I decided to limit their emotional upheaval – in other words, Jiang Cheng needs some therapy before he meets his parents again, and I like the drama of Nie Huaisang having to spend the summer in Gusu while his (still living!) brother is back home…with MENG YAO still a trusted aid!

Jiang Cheng is conflicted because his brother is his brother, right there, 16 and carefree and concerned because Jiang Cheng is staring at him and it’s freaking out and he’s beginning to “worry, Jiang Cheng, do you need to visit the infirmary?”

His core is his own, weaker than it was the night before, but stronger than he remembers and *familiar* which makes him wonder if he was as weak as he thought he had been. He then stops thinking that way, because it raises more questions that he’s not ready to face yet.

He knows Jin Ling doesn’t exist yet, and his hand feels *bare* without Zidain, but if he doesn’t have it, it’s because his mother *does* and that means Lotus Pier hasn’t burned, they haven’t fallen to war and *A-Jie is alive!* and he had grieved for all of them, moved on, but none of that matters when she’s sleeping in the girl’s dormitory!

Nie Huaisang wakes and *screams* into his pillow because he had *passed* these courses, damnit, was this his punishment for the lengths he went to avenge his brother? Then, of course, he realizes the that not only is Mingjue alive, but (since this is CQL canon), Meng Yao is *right there.* He didn’t even have a full day to process everything he’d done, and here the universe was, throwing Meng Yao in his face, and one that had not yet done any of the terrible things that eventually lead to his downfall.

It doesn’t take long for him to adapt, thinking “well, I wanted a new project.”

He is nearly late to class because he’s caught up in his initial scheming – there isn’t much he can do while stuck in Gusu, but he can begin building a network, making connections…

I want a moment later when Jiang Cheng is concerned that the scheming isn’t actually good for Nie Huaisang because it’s not giving him a chance to process anything, but the plan will also hopefully keep Jiang Cheng’s family alive, so he’s not going to look too closely at that. He’ll be there to help Nie Huaisang pick up the pieces, after. He was *good* at rebuilding, after all.

Nie Huaisang meets with Jiang Cheng an Wei Wuxian, slipping easily back into the role of his flighty teenage self, but lets the mask slip when he sees Jiang Wanyin watching from behind Jiang Cheng’s eyes. He’s not surprised when Jiang Cheng corners him after Wei Wuxian is dragged off by Lan Wangji for punishment.

Obligatory observation of how oblivious they all were to WangXian’s whole deal, with a side of “man everyone is so damned young. We were children!”

They disappear into the backwoods to talk away from possible prying ears and agree to do what they can to make things better. This will, later on, be something cited to convince people (perhaps even themselves) that they were dating for longer than they realized.

Jiang Cheng has a moment’s doubt about taking a more active role in Nie Huaisang’s plotting because he has a tendency to break delicate things, but then Nie Huaisang points out that he didn’t break Lotus Pier (not delicate) or Jin Ling (debatable, he’s as angry as I am), and Nie Huaisang trusts him, so he can trust himself. (which may be the moment when Nie Huaisang realizes Jiang Cheng’s desperate need for validation. This absolutely gets brought back during sex becuase Jiang Cheng’s praise king is visible from *space*)

Nie Huaisang rolls out the broad strokes of his plan, and Jiang Cheng is appalled that it will take years. “Wanyin, I waited ten years to kill one man that I knew personally. This is a *lot more complicated*”

Jiang Cheng agrees to it, because of course he does, but also because there really isn’t much they can do right now (Because Jiang Cheng doesn’t view “making connections” as a *thing* to be done. It’s something that happens or doesn’t. Nie Huaisang looks very sad when he admits that, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t quite understand why).

This means, of course, that they have an excuse, nay, a *reason* to act like the teenagers they *look* like rather than the grown men they *are.*

“You were an old man when we were teenagers the first time, Wanyin. You know what’s coming. All the more reason to have fun *now*”

“What’s coming is why I – and you – need to train. Don’t make that face at me. I’m not your brother, those puppy eyes won’t save you. I said don’t-- *sigh* fine!”

The plan is, of course, to unite the heirs of the sects as best they can to give Nie Huaisang connections he can manipulate later for information, moves, etc. Which means making real friends. Which means befriending Jin Zixuan. Lan Wangji (with bonus get-WangXian-together-now-because-13-years-of-pining-was-painful-to-witness). And Wen Qing/Wen Ning. I’m also going to include MianMian and Jiang Yanli because there needs to be more girls in this story. Girls who *live*

There could be some drama of the “does Jiang Cheng like Wen Qing??” variety, but I think that’s mostly something the others speculate on. I think by this point in his life, he likes Nie Huaisang more. Wen Qing is okay with this, as I stan lesbian Wen Qing.

During this time, they begin an actualfax friend group.

Wen Ning blossoms with friends his own age. This goes a long way with bringing Wen Qing to their side, and will lead the way to her going to Nie Huaisang for help later rather than Wei Wuxian. He’s smart and wise, just shy

Jiang Cheng looks at Jin Zixuan and realizes that the boy is a lot like Jin Ling in that, being raised in Koi Tower means that he doesn’t actually know how to person – it’s all artifice. He realizes that Jin Zixuan’s disdain about his A-Jie has actually nothing to do with her personally, and he’s mostly terrified/angry about an arranged marriage and doesn’t want to become his father. Behind the front, he’s actually romantic and thoughtlessly kind when he’s allowed to be, just a little dim/sheltered

“Why Is He Here” (Tumblr | AO3)

Jin Zixuan knows about Meng Yao – it caused an argument big enough for him to finally notice, and tells them that he’d like a brother – and it’s so wistful that it has Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian looking at each other, and Nie Huaisang contemplating adjusting his plans to *rehabilitate* rather than *kill* Meng Yao. He’d killed him once, after all, and it didn’t feel exactly like he’d expected it to

Jin Zixuan does not know about Mo Xanyu, who had just been born. Nie Huaisang basically tells him (where there’s one, there’s many) and Jin Zixuan is officially looking so he can offer assistance.

Lan Wangji is clearly sublimating his epic boner for Wei Wuxian into anger/self-flagellation, and for the first time since he was a child, he’s questioning the rules and it’s not a comfortable process (hence following it more severely in self-defense). He doesn’t know how to bend the way Lan Xichen doesm and the subject of his gay awakening is *oblivious.* Still, once he’s nudged in the right direction (and Wei Wuxian is hit by a clue-by-four) he does begin to walk that single-plank bridge with Wei Wuxian, he shows a very critical view of blindly following orders (what is black, what is white?), a bitchy/wicked sense of humor, and a softness for fluffy things. In other words, we get a Lan Wangji more willing to buck convention earlier in life.

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng also spend time together – at first it was because of planning/being the only adults in their group, but then it was because they really, actually like each other. They begin “dating” without quite realizing it – studying together, painting and poetry and fashion (look at JC’s clothing, he’s as much of a clothes horse as Nie Huaisang. I want them to go shopping together, wearing jewelry and lacquered nails. Bonus points for Jiang Cheng in makeup, even if it’s just because Nie Huaisang wants to paint him), sparring (Nie Huaisang has to basically relearn how to fight with his fans as he picked it up later in life) – but also kissing.

Like lots of kissing. A lot of it is surprisingly chaste because I’m keeping the whole “savor your childhood” thing, but I think once they cross back over into mutual orgasms, that tends to take lead.

This includes praise kink, service top!Huaisang, power bottom!Jiang Cheng, topping from the bottom (Huaisang). Why? Because Jiang Cheng needs to let go and Nie Huaisang needs to have control.

I also like “weak for a Nie” Huaisang, so there might be some of that surprising!strength.

Wei Wuxian clearly finds out (about the kissing), but it leads to them being an authority he actually listens to when they tell him “you want to bug Lan Wangji so much because you want to kiss his face.” (so, When Lan Wangji listens to Jiang Cheng and flirts back rather than getting angry – WangXian may actually fuck in the library)

This means, of course, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t punch Jin Zixuan and get sent home. This means the engagement stays (and may get pushed forward because of the looming war). This means Lanling Jin is better allied with Yunmeng Jiang and (at the will of the first Madame Jin) the Jins will march if Lotus Pier is attacked.

Of course, Wangxian are hardly discrete. They are found out and *WANGJI ADMITS THAT THEY’RE ALREADY MARRIED* because they still wind up in the Cold Pond Cave. Even Nie Huaisang is taken by surprise as that’s not something that ever went public. (This has the benefit of also putting the Yin Iron into play because action plot!). This leads to the announcement of Wangji’s public wedding to Wei Wuxian at the end of summer, which means Jiang Fengman (and Yanli) arrive not to take Wei Wuxian home but to negotiate the marriage contract.

This brings the Clan Heads together (all but the Wens – Wen Qing is already there, after all, and the Wens are less concerned with keeping up appearances.)

Nie Mingjue brings back Meng Yao, which means Jin Zixuan sees when their father snubs him, so Jin Zixuan steps up and makes an overture of friendship. For the few weeks that they’re there, Meng Yao is brought into the friend group (Jiang Cheng always forgot they were about the same age) which limits his exposure to Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen is fine with this because it means he gets Nie Mingjue all to himself. That’s right – this is also a Nielan fic. Boom.

Meng Yao has already been snubbed, and is desperate to prove himself (and failing that, make Jin Guangshan eat it), but he’s taken aback by Jin Zixuan’s earnestness. He’s also not yet released Xue Yang – the wedding interrupted those plans.

Nie Huaisang all but throws himself at Nie Mingjue, who is a bit confused because Nie Huaisang *passed* Lan Qiren’s lessons, so there’s no reason for him to act a fool. (He hugs him tightly anyway. He’s his baby brother, after all.)

Nie Huaisang teases Nie Mingjue about Lan Xichen (he’s going to encourage that relationship) and introduces him to Wen Qing (which goes less well, but it is a wedding and Mingjue is in a good mood. It helps that they bond being older siblings).

Before they leave, Mingjue asks Huaisang if he should be sending a formal proposal to Jiang Cheng Lotus Pier on Huaisang’s behalf. Huaisang is shocked that Mingjue would even consider such an outrageous— “besides, Wanyin is to be sect leader, Da-ge. The proposal should come from him!”

(Part 2) (Part 3)

#the untamed #sj writes the untamed #the great sangcheng time travel fix it fic project #sangcheng #fic update #background wangxian #time travel

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

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🐰 Untamed Spring Fest 2020 🐰

Day 15 - Growth - 1.6k

More Jiang-Wei family feels, back in the main timeline though. It’s not easy being the youngest sibling in the newest relationship.

CW for implied past manipulative relationships.

With Patience Comes Growth

Jiang Cheng was always particularly fast out of the changing rooms and into the swimming pool; if the three Jiang-Wei siblings hadn’t been such water babies and had a requirement to be submerged in water at least three times a week there would have been no way anyone would be able to coax him out of his clothes in public.

Wei Wuxian trailed more slowly behind him, accompanied by a chattering Jin Ling and a carefully listening Lan Yuan.

It was early and the pool was reasonably quiet, only a few other people swimming careful lengths and one or two with children around the same age as the 8 year old boys.

Jiang Yanli was already in the pool too, she completed her current length with quick, strong strokes, and came to hang off the side next to Jiang Cheng while Wei Wuxian and the boys climbed in.

She waited until their excited chatter drowned out her quietly spoken words, before she reached over to press at the bruise on Jiang Cheng’s collar bone.

Wei Wuxian grinned, he’d already been told to mind his own fucking business when he took the opportunity to tease the other about it, but Jiang Cheng wouldn’t dare tell Jiang Yanli anything of the kind

“I was going to ask how you’re doing, A-Cheng, but I don’t think I need to” she teased, and as expected a look of half-embarrassment, half-frustration crossed the other’s face, along with the hot flush, as he clapped a hand over the telltale mark.

“A-jie” he exclaimed, a soft whine in his voice. How frustrating for Jiang Cheng to not be able to respond with his usual vitriol.

She chuckled softly, then patted his cheek, “I can’t believe you still get so easily embarrassed A-Cheng, do you think we don’t know what happens between adults in a relationship?”

“I would think you’ve both been married for so long you’ve forgotten” was his quip, to which Jiang Yanli slapped him on the shoulder with a look of surprised amusement on her face, one which Wei Wuxian mirrored. Honestly, if he wasn’t a respectable parent now he would have taken great amusement in disabusing Jiang Cheng of that notion, to the point his flush turned ten times brighter. Unfortunately Lan Wangji had trained him to respectable fatherhood.

They chatted and swam while the boys fooled around and had mini races and competitions, then after they had tired themselves out Jin Ling called out, “It’s time for your race, uncles”

A staple of their swimming sessions.

Wei Wuxian swam over to the edge of the pool.

“Ready to lose again Jiang Cheng?” he teased as the other joined him on the edge.

“In your dreams Wei Wuxian. A-jie is referee and has final say”

“Agreed, but it won’t help you”

They were fairly evenly matched in the water but Wei Wuxian was probably ahead on overall wins, and today went true to form with him hitting the side half a second before Jiang Cheng, who reacted with his usual drama of just sinking below the water.

Jiang Yanli dived after him and dragged him back to the surface.

“So dramatic, Jiang Cheng, such a sore loser” Wei Wuxian mocked.

***

They followed up their swimming session with a trip to the park, and Jiang Cheng collected coffees from the shop on the corner across the road.

“I don’t know where they get all their energy from” Jiang Cheng murmured as he sat between them on the bench while they watched the children scamper over the climbing frames and sipped at their drinks.

“You were twice as energetic” Jiang Yanli teased him, “if we didn’t bring you and A-Xian to the park every day to run your energy down none of us used to get any sleep” she patted his knee. “Anyway, Jiang Cheng, tell us how things are really going with Xichen-ge”

“What? Why?” Wei Wuxian had to admire how Jiang Yanli pinned him down on the subject, she was a master at getting information out of the pair of them. They’d never been able to keep secrets from her.

“Because we’re your family, and we want to know you’re happy”

Several expressions crossed Jiang Cheng’s face. He had never been able to verbalise or demonstrate tender feelings well, and it made him just as uncomfortable to be on the receiving end. He liked being babied, he just didn’t like being told he was loved or cared about.

“It’s OK” he said tentatively, then he glanced at Wei Wuxian, chewing his lip thoughtfully, “it’s good” he added, then; “Lan Xichen made a couple of decisions without deferring to me this week, and he actually said he didn’t really feel up to it when I asked him if he wanted to go to the cinema”

Things that didn’t mean much in the course of a normal relationship, but actions that for Lan Xichen were quite momentous, considering the relationship he had come from.

“Nice” Wei Wuxian gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, then, because he knew that was probably about all Jiang Cheng could take on the sharing front, and after checking A-Yuan was still out of earshot, “No need to ask whether the physical side is any good at least” he flicked Jiang Cheng’s t-shirt, right over the spot where they’d noticed the love bite earlier that day.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng launched himself at Wei Wuxian, and they fell over the bench and into the grass, as Wei Wuxian laughed helplessly at the expression on Jiang Cheng’s face.

***

Lan Wangji zipped the last of his equipment away in his sports bag as Lan Xichen hefted his own. There was a soft smile on Lan Xichen’s face, one that warmed his eyes gently. It was the look Lan Wangji hadn’t seen on his brother’s face for too long, something real and warm and genuine.

“You’re happy” it wasn’t a question; it didn’t need to be with that look offering all the proof needed.

Lan Xichen startled, like he’d been lost in a particularly happy thought that Lan Wangji had interrupted.

“Yes, Wangji, I am” Lan Xichen took a drink from his sports bottle as he waited for Wangji to pick up his own bag.

“I’m glad, brother” Lan Wangji did so, and followed him out of the changing rooms. They met a couple of times a week, sometimes with Lan Qiren and some other board members, to play squash. “Are you going to Jiang Wanyin’s apartment tonight?”

Lan Xichen shook his head, “Not tonight, he’s having dinner with some old university friends. Tomorrow though” that soft smile again.

Although privately Lan Wangji still held some concerns for his brother, he was glad things were so obviously going well for him. Lan Xichen’s previous relationship had been terrible, and although Lan Wangji accepted that his brother-in-law wasn’t a bad person, Jiang Wanyin came with many complications; ones Lan Wangji really hoped wouldn’t hurt either of them as they tried to build their relationship together.

“Wanyin smiled at me yesterday, Wangji, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Have you ever seen Wanyin smile?”

Lan Wangji wracked his memory, and he could probably count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d seen his brother-in-law smile with anything other than self-mockery or sarcasm.

“He realised I was looking, and he didn’t kill it dead like he usually does when you catch him out. He just carried on. Then he hugged me”

Jiang Cheng initiating tenderness was also something worthy of note.

“I’m truly happy for you, brother” he said sincerely.

***

Later that evening as Lan Wangji held Wei Ying spooned against his front as they settled to sleep Lan Wangji passed on the good news.

“Brother told me this evening that Wanyin initiated a hug, and smiled at him without pretending he hadn’t afterwards” he nuzzled at Wei Ying’s ear and the other hummed in contentment.

“That’s good. We all agreed the person to take Jiang Cheng on would have to be patient with him. He’s a good man, just damaged”

“Like brother” Lan Wangji agreed, squeezing Wei Ying. The other held onto one of his forearms gently.

“If it soothes some of your worry, Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng said Xichen-ge hasn’t automatically deferred to him on all decisions this week, and he expressed a preference without being pushed on it”

That was very soothing; he hadn’t realised how groomed his brother had become until Wei Ying reported how utterly deferential to Jiang Cheng’s decision making he had been in the earlier days of their relationship.

It highlighted how little they knew of what happened behind closed doors when both parties kept their secrets; Lan Xichen otherwise was proactive, a decision-maker, and leader; he had even been the pursuer in the two’s relationship, but as soon as he and Jiang Cheng had settled into dating seriously he had turned into a completely different person. Although Jiang Cheng wasn’t the most patient person in the world it had seemed something he was willing to extend to Lan Xichen.

He was glad his brother-in-law was having such a positive effect on his brother’s happiness.

“It seems they’re being very good for each other, Lan Zhan, enabling the growth the other needed” Wei Wuxian murmured, “they’re doing each other the world of good”

“Mn” Lan Wangji couldn’t argue with that assessment at all.

#untamed spring fest #wangxian #xicheng #xuanli #yunmeng siblings #established relationships #family #Jiang Family AU #mo dao zu shi #mo dao zu shi fanfic #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #Shay's stuff #the untamed #the untamed fanfic #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

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immacaria · 4 years

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Xichengclipse - Day 5 - Archery

Okay, Jiang Cheng didn't expect to actually pass his birthday working, imagine without anyone from his family to celebrate it with him. It wasn't like that time were his students made a surprise to him. No, in that time he had just arrived in the building when one of them (one of the ones who actually cared for him) smiled and wished him a happy birthday right after giving him a small package, Jiang Cheng couldn't help but feel his eyes water a little. The said student was scared the shit out of her skin when she saw the professor's reaction, but hugged without fear of being shouted at.

"Thank you." Jiang Cheng smiled, sniffing a little. "It was very kind of you."

"Hey, it was a pleasure Mr. Jiang. It's not like you don't deserve it." The girl smiled, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. "You are, like, one of the only ones who seems to care." She breathed deep before opening her arms another time. "Can I ask for another hug?”

"Whenever you need it, Ms. White." He smiled as she hugged him one more time before running down the aisle as the sign went off. "That kid, I swear..." Jiang Cheng smiled, opening the door to his class. "What the actual hell?" He almost yelled, holding the door.

"Happy Birthday!" All of his class yelled, holding balloons, presents and a lot of things that exploded in millions pieces of shiny paper. "We love you!"

"What the hell?" He backed up as incoherent noises leaved the mouths of that little fuckers as his mouth fell a little open. "Shut up!"

"But we love you!" One of them screamed exploding one of that hellish things.

"Stop it!" Jiang Cheng screamed back as a kid came running and hugged him, murmuring that he loved him and was proud of him. "What the hell?"

"Why didn't you said that today was your birthday?" Another girl cried, hugging him too. "We would made something bigger."

"How the hell did you discovered it?" He asked, hugging them back instinctively.

"We asked in the secretary!" One of them smiled, holding a cake with a "Happy Birthday" candle.

"You could have asked me!" He cried as more students came to hug him. He even heard a loud "Fuck you!" as someone ran and hugged him from behind. Holy hell, if it was on his home, none of his students would make something like that. Sincerely, he didn't deserve that kids, they were too much. "I love you all so much!" He sniffed pulling the teens behind him for the front as he tried to reach for them all. They cried a little more and he could swear that more of that hellish things were exploded, already making the mess messier. But he loved that kids too much!

After that, he didn't gave any class that day, simply wanting to hear what they did in the weekend or how their day was going until the moment. He even let Ms. White blabber around about her sister's new project, something to do with shoes, paint and Studios Ghibli. Truly, it was one of his best birthdays since always, but it was a year ago and he was stuck in home, preparing class for the very next day.

"May the gods help me..." Jiang Cheng groaned, getting up for another cup of coffee. "At the least it won't take long anymore." He sighed, resting his eyes for a moment. "Just some more minutes..." He whispered, finding it harder and harder to open his eyes once again. "Already, let's go." He opened them, finding strength on the gods know what.

And finally, finally, he finished all of his work. He simply let his body relax on the chair, just breathing deep and letting his mind turn off for a moment. Even though he didn’t celebrate his anniversary with his family (or, the gods forbidden, his students again), Yanli and Wei Wuxian had in fact send him ‘good wishes’ messages and even made a videocall with him. Most of his students from that day send messages, videos of the entire family thanking Jiang Cheng for being who he was, some called him or made a videocall, but the best of everything was when Ms. White and some of of her closest friends arrived there with cake, balloons, soda and that hellish things that explode in million pieces. But that was early and, now, he just wanted to lay down and sleep for three days.

However, the universe wanted to make him suffer and rang his alarm just four hours later, warning that he still had a lot of stupid and screaming teens to teach. Gods, why did he choose that career? Why not just become a businessman like his father and brother? Why? Why? Why? He knew why, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it yet. Maybe the reason had something to do with making the new adults less scarred in their early life, maybe he didn’t want people to suffer like he did, maybe he just wanted to help people like once he needed help.

Still, it didn’t have nothing to do with archery!

“Why do I have to go, anyway?” He looked to the sea of adolescents staring at him, expectantly. “It’s Ms. Irving’s idea to go to archery, I have nothing to do with that!”

“But she’s old! And doesn’t know how to shoot an arrow!” One of the boys next to him groaned. “Besides, she can’t take care of almost sixty students. Please, Mr. Jiang, please!” He pleaded, grabbing his arm. Oh, Gods! Why me?, Jiang Cheng groaned before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go!” He sighed, turning around. “Let’s go, people. I have class to give later.” He began to walk as all of the students started to scream and howl with full force. “Shut up before I break your legs!” He screamed over the noise, leading them out of the building. Whose idea was letting sixty teens play around with bows and arrows for a class? It could be just Ms. Irving’s idea to let that happen, that old and crazy woman who didn’t knew a fucking thing about her student’s safety.

“Mr. Jiang! What a pleasure!” An old and small woman with big glasses and short colorful hair smiled to him. “I didn’t believe that this sweethearts would convince you to come with us.” Ms. Irving said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go, cute beans. Let’s go before he changes his mind.” She joked, getting on the bus. Jiang Cheng sighed following her as the youngers hopped in, smiling like mad mans.

“Uhm, Ms. Irving…” Jiang Cheng called, touching her shoulder lightly.

“Call me Adalind, sweet.” She corrected, patting his hand. “What is it?”

“Why did you ask them to call me?” Jiang Cheng whispered, looking down at his feet. “I mean, I have nothing to do with your History class, Adalind. I teach Literature.”

“Cheng, can I call you Cheng?” She asked, receiving only an affirmative nod back. “Cheng, yesterday was your birthday. This is your present, from us to you.” She smiled once more, before adding. “They said that you commented that one of the things you most missed being able to do was doing archery, so here we go.” Adaling nudged at his side before turning to speak to the driver. Really? They remembered this? Awesome!, he turned to smile at the teens talking loudly with each other. Maybe they aren’t so bad after all, he thought scrolling through his phone.

___________________________________________________________________

There they were, at the archery camp, and Mr. Johnson managed to almost shot Ms. White feet twice already. Sincerely, even if they were awesome, Jiang Cheng didn’t deserve this. Not even close. Why me?, he thought by the millionth time of the day. Why it has to be me to take care of this children?, he groaned, looking over to Ms. Irving, who were sitting and enjoying the sun. Lucky woman., he sighed, turning to the others teens who were accompanied by some instructors. At least they are okay., he yawned, seeing the only two who had a history with archery staring at him.

“What?” He adjusted his sunglasses on his face, scowling at them.

“Why there is a man staring at you?” The boy asked, looking over his shoulder as the girl pulled the bow from his hands.

“We’re going to discover pretty soon.” She said as Jiang Cheng turned around, seeing a man in a white suit along with four children looking at them. That couldn’t be him, he said he was going to be in French this week., he narrowed his eyes trying to decide if it was in fact his husband and his ducklings. Fuck!, he thought, spinning around to stop his students.

“Amelia, wait!” He called out, as she let the arrow go. “Shit!” He looked over to Huan, who pulled Lan Yuan next to him as the arrow stopped were the boy’s feet were. “I know him! It’s my husband!” Jiang Cheng turned to her, pulling the bow from her hands. “And you can’t shoot arrows at people like that!” He warned, turning to look at Lan Huan who was laughing out loud. What the hell is he laughing about?, he thought, furrowing his eyebrows at the approaching man.

"You are married, sir?" Mr. Johnson asked, mouth feeling open with surprise. "Actually married? Fucking Christ!"

"A-Cheng!" Lan Huan smiled to him, Lan Jingyi in his arms while Jin Ling, Lan Yuan and Ouyang Zizhen were around him, the arrow in Yuan's hands. "Hello!" He smiled to the teens behind him.

"Willow, Mr. Jiang is married!" Amelia screamed to a redhead. "And he have four boys! Four!" She raised four fingers, shaking them vigorously. "Look!" She pointed at them as sixty kids turned to look too, eyes wide.

"Oh, fucking shit!" Jiang Cheng groaned, hiding his face on Huan's shoulders. "Go back to your bows, kids! Now!"

"You are married?!" Willow screamed, pushing her instructor aside. "And you have kids? Four above it all?" She yelled, waving her arms around. "Why would you betray me like that?" She cried, hugging herself.

"Excuse me?!" Jiang Cheng looked back at her as Amelia said:

"Excuse you?" And the only thing Huan seemed like doing was laugh and make things even worse.

"I'm married to Lan Huan for almost four years now! And just one of this kids are mine!" He groaned as Lan Huan put Lan Jingyi down. "Hello, pumpkin." He smiled to his son, who came hug him.

"Yes, sweets, I'm his idiot, forever." Lan Huan smiled, sickeningly sweet, as lifting the hand with the wedding ring. "So, no more love letters, okay, Willow dear?" He added, making the teens laugh.

"Huan, they are kids." The professor snapped, hitting his husband on the shoulder. "Besides, it isn't forever. It's 'until death separate us'. Plus, you are not a total idiot, you have your moments of idiocy."

"A-Cheng is so innocent. Bold of you to assume death can save you from this relantioship." The Lan smiled as the other huffed at him. "C'mon, A-Yi, let Baba work now, okay? Go play with A-Ling, A-Yuan and A-Zhen, okay?" He pushed the kid away lightly, amused. He turned to his husband, startling himself when, out of nowhere, sixty kids were surrounding him. “Uhm? A-Cheng?”

“How can you be sure that you are, in fact, Cheng’s husband?” A old lady said, growling at him as Jiang Cheng only shrugged, unimpressed.

“He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring!” Amelia said, pointing another arrow at him.

“Guys! You are being irrational!” Another girl said, pulling Amelia’s wrist. “Lia, please! Mr. Jiang said that this, uhm, man is his husband and that they have a kid together!”

“This Lan Huan can be blackmailing Mr. Jiang…” She added slowly.

“Jiujiu, you promised!” Jin Ling screamed, coming running to his uncle. “Down, down!” He pulled him down, shoving a hand into his shirt. “Here!” He pulled a silver string with a gold wedding ring adorned with little details in white, light-blue and purple. Just like Lan Huan’s. “Jiujiu always forgot to put it back when he took a bath, so he put it on a string!” The boy looked proud of finding the silver string. “It was my idea.”

“Okay, okay. I’m working, you can’t be here. How did you knew I was here?” Jiang Cheng asked, lifting Jin Ling up before giving him to his husband. “And I have kids to defrost now too.”

“I followed your phone.” Lan Huan answered as Willow whined and whispered:

“You really betrayed me, Mr. Jiang!”

“He was never yours, bitch!” Amelia screamed at the redhead, realizing the arrow, which missed Lan Huan’s feet by millimeters. “Someone take this fucking thing from me…” She whispered, a little terrified.

“Go home, now. I will deal with you later.” He turned to the other three kids who were running around. “You three, come here, please!” He called, kneeling in front of them. “Give me a kiss and take Lan Huan away, I can’t deal with him right now.” The Jiang explained, kissing their heads.

“Yes, sir!” Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen said as Lan Yuan just nodded, running to pull the older man away.

“A kiss to A-Ling too.” Jin Ling said, extending his arms to his Jiujiu.

“And A-Huan too.” Lan Huan smiled as Jiang Cheng gave a kiss at the kid’s head.

“You don’t deserve it.” He glared at him, turning around. “Already, infants, back to your classes.” He scowled, crossing his arms as Lan Huan whined behind him, the kids pulling him away. If Jiang Cheng fought a grin, only him (and Ms. Irving knew).

________________________________________________________________

“So, you actually never told them you were married in this almost three years you were teaching?” Lan Huan asked, petting Jiang Cheng’s hair.

“Never occurred to me that they need to know that I had a husband and a family.” Jiang Cheng scowled, closing his eyes at the small chuckle his husband give. “Weren’t you supposed to be in French this week?”

“A-Zhan resolved it for me. We have four whole months before I have to travel again.” He answered, giving small smooches at the younger’s head.

“I don’t know if I can endure you for all this time…” He joked.

“A-Cheng!” Huan said, covering the other with his own body. “Don’t make me suffer like that.” He smiled, nipping at his husband’s neck.

“A-A-Huan, the kids…” Jiang Cheng whined, his hands darting to the other’s shoulders.

“Are sleeping, my heart.” He looked to the younger’s flushed face, eyes dark with lust. “My heart, my light, my Cheng, mine, mine, mine.” Lan Huan whispered, his mouth kissing Jiang Cheng’s chest. “So beautiful to me, so kind to me…” He grinned at the little moans and whimpers coming from the man below. “Let me show you your birthday present, my love.” Lan Huan muttered, before capturing the other’s lips, swallowing his moans. Whether or not, Jiang Cheng given in to Lan Huan’s desire only them knew.

________________________________________________________________

So, in this AU, Jiang Cheng is living in another country with Lan Xichen and Lan Jingyi. As it is a modern AU, I used only they birth names in this fic. Jiang Cheng have a good relantionship with his family but still prefer to live where he’s now (he loves his students too much, shh don’t tell anyone). This is for the @xichengclipse

#xichengclipse 2020 #xicheng au #modern au #lan xichen #lan huan #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #ouyang zizhen #jin ling #ocs #xicheng #lan wangji #lan zhan

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psychologyofsex · 3 years

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The True Story of How I Became a Sex Educator and Researcher

Our professional biographies tend to serve as a “highlight reel”—they only say the great things we’ve accomplished and don’t reveal the struggles, challenges, and uncertainties that went into building a career. To lift back the curtain on this, the Society for Personality and Social Psychology (SPSP) recently asked a number of scholars to submit their official bios along with their “unofficial bios” that reveal an extremely different version of the story with more twists and turns.

You can read some of the examples here. Although I didn’t participate in it, I thought it would be fun to do something similar on the blog. So here goes—I’ll start with my official bio, followed by the real, behind-the-scenes story.

Official Bio of Dr. Justin J. Lehmiller

Dr. Justin Lehmiller received his Ph.D. in Social Psychology from Purdue University. He is a Research Fellow at The Kinsey Institute and author of the book Tell Me What You Want: The Science of Sexual Desire and How It Can Help You Improve Your Sex Life. Dr. Lehmiller is an award-winning educator, having been honored three times with the Certificate of Teaching Excellence from Harvard University, where he taught for several years. He is also a prolific researcher and scholar who has published more than 50 academic works to date, including a textbook titled The Psychology of Human Sexuality (now in its second edition) that is used in college classrooms around the world. Dr. Lehmiller's studies have appeared in all of the leading journals on human sexuality, including the Journal of Sex Research, Archives of Sexual Behavior, and The Journal of Sexual Medicine.

Dr. Lehmiller has run the popular blog Sex and Psychology since 2011. It receives millions of page views per year and is rated among the top sex blogs on the internet. In 2019, he launched the Sex and Psychology Podcast. It ranks among the top sexuality podcasts in several countries and has been named one of “11 sex podcasts that will help you get better in bed” by Men’s Health.

Dr. Lehmiller has been interviewed by numerous media outlets, including The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Boston Globe, CNN, The Atlantic, The Globe and Mail, and The Sunday Times. He has been named one of 5 "Sexperts" You Need to Follow on Twitter by Men's Health and one of the "modern-day masters of sex" by Nerve. Dr. Lehmiller has appeared on the Netflix series Sex, Explained, he has been on several episodes of the television program Taboo on the National Geographic Channel, and he has been a guest on��Dr. Phil. Dr. Lehmiller has also appeared on numerous podcasts and radio shows, including the Savage Lovecast, the BBC’s Up All Night, and several NPR programs (1A, Radio Times, and Airtalk).

He is a popular freelance writer, penning columns and op-eds for major publications, including The Washington Post, Playboy, USA Today, VICE, Psychology Today, Men’s Health, Politico, and New York Magazine. He has also interviewed several prominent authors, journalists, and psychologists about their work for his blog and podcast, including Dr. Sanjay Gupta, Lisa Ling, Drs. John and Julie Gottman, and bestselling authors Christopher Ryan (Sex at Dawn) and Lisa Taddeo (Three Women).

Unofficial Bio of Dr. Justin J. Lehmiller

When Justin’s parents asked him what he wanted to study in college, he said “psychology.” He had taken a couple of psychology courses in high school that he found to be absolutely fascinating; however, his parents discouraged him from this because getting into a PhD program was tough and uncertain and, if that didn’t work out, they didn’t see much potential in a Bachelor’s degree in psychology. They encouraged him to pursue a career in occupational therapy (OT) instead because a family friend said “they needed more men in the field,” and also because his parents saw it as a path to job security with a pretty good paycheck.

He applied to a 5-year combined Bachelor’s/Master’s program in OT at Gannon University and was admitted. Incidentally, he was one of two men in the entire program. He spent a year and a half in it and made straight As in every course, including biochemistry and physics—but he wasn’t happy. He recognized the importance of OT to society, but it wasn’t his passion. After showing his parents that he was taking college seriously and earning good grades, they allowed him to switch his major to psychology.

Upon completing his Bachelor’s degree, he only applied to Master’s programs in psychology because he didn’t think he had the chops to get into a PhD program right away. The inferiority complex was strong in this one, so he didn’t even try. He applied and was accepted to Villanova University’s Master’s program in experimental psychology. He was not competitive enough of a candidate to receive an assistantship initially, although he eventually received one after another student dropped out.

He really wanted to study social psychology at Villanova, but there was only one social psychologist on staff at the time and several interested students. The only option for him was to beg one of the clinical psychologists to let him do a social psychology study for his Master’s thesis.

As he began looking for PhD programs to apply to, he met Dr. Chris Agnew at a meeting of the American Psychological Association. Chris was studying romantic relationships and Justin thought that sounded like a fun thing to spend his life doing. Plus, Chris was a super cool guy who seemed like a fantastic mentor. He applied and was admitted to Purdue’s social psychology program, although he was initially waitlisted (and rejected from all but one other program). Justin’s plan was to get his doctorate and become a college professor. Teaching and research sounded like things he could probably do.

Justin was assigned to teach a Health Psychology course at Purdue during his first year. He had never taught a class before and quickly realized that he was very uncomfortable with public speaking. The class was a disaster. Attendance dropped 60-70% within the first couple of weeks. He had no idea what he was doing and dreaded going to class each day—and he received poor evaluations in the end.

Around the same time, Justin submitted his first academic paper to a journal, it was promptly rejected and came with this review: “This manuscript is fatally flawed and of marginal utility, which is a shame because potentially interesting questions could have been asked given the topic and timing of the research. The tone of this manuscript represents the worst in scientific misconstrual, particularly because the claims are silly, wrong, or not warranted by the data.” Justin clearly sucked at both teaching and research—and if he couldn’t do those things well, how would he ever become a college professor?

He also started hearing horror stories from advanced students in his program who couldn’t find jobs and were sticking around for 6 or 7 years in the hope of eventually landing a job—any job. All of this led Justin to question what the hell he was doing with his life. Maybe he should have listened to his parents after all? Chris encouraged Justin to stick with it, though, as did his friends and mentors.

The next year, Justin got assigned to be a teaching assistant for a human sexuality course taught by Dr. Janice Kelly. It changed his life. He had to lead weekly discussion sections with students and answer their sex questions (a subject he knew next to nothing about, having attended Catholic schools most of his life). He read about sex extensively and instantly knew he had found what he really wanted to do with his career. He saw it as something fun and interesting—but also a way that he could make a real difference. He realized how little most people actually know about sex, and how education can correct so many harmful myths and misconceptions.

An opportunity to teach his own human sexuality class opened up the following year, and he took it. This time around, teaching was different—he was passionate about the subject and the students were, too. He had no problems with attendance. He ended up teaching this course six times before he graduated and eventually received a teaching award for it. He found that he loved being a sex educator.

He also found a solution to his public speaking anxiety: he started taking a beta-blocker (propranolol) on public speaking days, which removed physiological symptoms of anxiety. This allowed him to feel like himself in front of a crowd and, after just a few months, he no longer needed to take the medication—the anxiety had gone away completely.

He started conducting his own sex research, too, including a series of studies with Dr. Kelly on friends with benefits. His research skills improved and his studies started getting accepted instead of rejected.

He eventually landed a job at Colorado State University as an assistant professor, where he stayed for three years and continued his work as a sex educator and researcher. His partner couldn’t get a job in the area and had just taken a job in Boston, so Justin applied for every academic job within two hours of Boston. He was turned down for all of them. As a last-ditch effort, he applied for a teaching position at Harvard but had absolutely no confidence in it. He almost didn’t submit the application, but his partner encouraged him to do so. Justin had applied to Harvard’s PhD program previously and was rejected—if they didn’t want him as a student, why the heck would they want him as a teacher?

To his great surprise, he got the job at Harvard, where he stayed for three years. However, he had given up his tenure-track job in Colorado for a teaching position in Boston with no job security. So he decided to reinvent himself just in case things didn’t work out. In his spare time, he started a blog, wrote a human sexuality textbook, and became a freelance media writer. Communicating about sex science to the public became his hobby and was going to be his backup career in case the college professor thing didn’t work out.

Eventually, Justin’s partner wanted to move to Indianapolis for a job opportunity, so they left Boston. But Justin didn’t have a job at first and his backup plan wasn’t yet enough to be a full-time job. He knew the Kinsey Institute was nearby, so he drafted a letter to the director in the hope of establishing a connection, but he never sent it. He had a severe case of imposter syndrome and did not feel accomplished or experienced enough to have anything to do with what he saw as the premier hub for sex research in the world.

Much to his surprise, the associate director of the Institute reached out to him after he moved to Indiana to explore opportunities for working together. It was actually his hobby/backup plan that caught their eye—they were interested in working together to disseminate sex science to the public and were impressed with what he had done with his blog and social media.

Justin affiliated with Kinsey, but also jumped back on the tenure track with a job as the Director of the Social Psychology Program at Ball State University, which fortuitously opened up about 4 months after he moved to Indianapolis. After 3.5 years, he decided to leave full-time academics and do his own thing. His science communication hobby had managed to grow into a full-time job and it was no longer feasible to do that and academics. Plus, he found that the science communication work was really where his passion was. So, the backup plan officially became “the plan.”

Justin now spends every day finding new ways to help educate and inform the public about the science of sex. He’s still not sure how things ended up this way, but wouldn’t trade his current job for anything.

Want to learn more about Sex and Psychology? Click here for more from the blog or here to listen to the podcast. Follow Sex and Psychology on Facebook, Twitter (@JustinLehmiller), or Reddit to receive updates. You can also follow Dr. Lehmiller on YouTube and Instagram.

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