#with or without cultivation idk

[archerdepartures116]

Liu Qingge, how many reps of various exercises do you think you could manage with Shen Qingqiu sitting on you as a weight?

What about the reverse?

Also for the sake of Shen Qingqiu's over all wellness and cultivation, what would you recommend he do physically (excercise plans, etc)? Perhaps even make him run through them until you're confident he can do them on his own. Since he tends to not understand when on Bai Zhan while training...

he could prolly do like 1000 pushups with sqq's weight on his back

sqq could prolly do like half of that

[zelkam]

— chuck palahniuk, haunted

[fistfuloflightning]

a Mingxian prompt for @violet-petals-in-the-rain 😉

The Burial Mounds. Nie Mingjue had asked him before, and had received only mask-like grins and deflections. And so it was with surprise and anticipation that he realized Wei Wuxian had been rattled enough by his injury that he might actually respond this time.

Wei Wuxian struggled with himself for a long time, long enough to get the worst of Nie Mingjue’s wound treated and wrapped. He finally opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden disturbance outside the tent had it snapping shut immediately. So close. Nie Mingjue felt that familiar anger throb low and sharp. Wei Wuxian had assigned himself as his aide out of some misplaced sense of guilt, he supposed, but they remained as distant from each other as the birds of the air to the fish in the rivers.

He wished to narrow that distance.

“Enough.” Mingjue stopped Wei Wuxian’s near-skeletal hands as they tied off the bandage, and stood. Jaw achingly tight with simmering anger at the interruption, he pushed the flap open to find several of his officers already standing before his tent. And between them all knelt a bound and hooded figure.

One dressed in Wen robes.

[windchime-of-teeth]

i’m listening through an audio recording of the fanyiyi33 translation of mdzs right now and annotating it and i’m having…. frankly…. an unjustified amount of fun with it

i have this incessant need to hyperanalyze the text for details to use in my art and hc’s in order to make sure they don’t contradict anything from the original canon- and it gives me the chance to look at the exact imagery and descriptions used in a more accurate translation than the 7seas! while i’ve only gotten through chapter 10 thus far it’s been really interesting to see how many similes and metaphors are used comparing wwx, ghosts, and yin energy to water and fish and aquatic stuff and spiritual energy or “proper” cultivation related things to fire or lightning

while the whole “wwx and lwj are fire and water” thing might have you assume it’s one way due to their personalities, there’s something fun there with the subversion of normal categorization and tropes that really plays into their whole dynamic in the text

[ayara-resara]

.

[tateytots]

the duality of me ig lol

[ao3screenshotss]

[whentherewerebicycles]

a bunch of people have already registered for my mentoring workshop! unfortunately this means i have to plan and host a workshop aaaaaa

[add1ctedt0you]

Imo jiang cheng and jiang yanli's relationship is underestimated. I know that in the novel they don't share significant moments together, but their relationship shapes jiang cheng's character. jiang yanli is the person he at 7/8 years calls when he doesn't find wei wuxian, in a moment of distress. Jiang cheng decides to bury the hatchet with jin zuxuan because he makes his sister happy and because it's her choice to forgive or not him. Jiang cheng is clearly still mourning his sister. It's a fundamental relationship for him.

[fistfuloflightning]

When Ming Fan finally fought his way through the underbrush to where the Rift had appeared, it was already too late. Shizun and Luo Binghe stood at the edge of the yawning chasm, swords unsheathed and pointed at each other. He hadn’t thought much of it when Shen Qingqiu had flown past him so soon after the earthquake that had torn open the Rift, but he could now see there was something very wrong. Shen Qingqiu’s back was turned to Ming Fan and his face hidden, but he could see plainly the fear and confusion on Luo Binghe’s face. Along with the glowing, damning mark on his forehead. Something demonic.

Ming Fan gripped the foliage, forcing himself not to run out. Not yet. He’d end up dead or wishing he was. He had mocked Luo Binghe early in the Conference, yes, but he knew the younger boy had done nothing to merit this kind of punishment—!

In a matter of seconds, Xiu Ya had stabbed forward, Zheng Yang had shattered, and Luo Binghe had staggered back into the Rift.

Everything seemed to still.

Ming Fan sucked in an breath and darted out of the foliage—but it was too late. Luo Binghe’s arm vanished over the edge just as Ming Fan ran past their shizun. He lunged forward the last few feet, fingers clawing at Luo Binghe’s forearm just in time. Caught, held. The sudden weight had him crashing again against the ground and the wind was knocked out of him. The taste of charred earth mixed with that of fresh blood where he’d nearly bitten his tongue in half.

But that was inconsequential. Not when he could feel the weight at the end of his arm that told him he didn’t fail. Even when the only person he needed to acknowledge that fact was someone he couldn’t stand. No one deserves to die like this, Ming Fan thought viciously. Not even him.

Dangling below him, Luo Binghe’s eyes were wide with terror and confusion, at odds with the damning, demonic seal glowing on his forehead. But there was something like gratitude there as well, out of place and so painfully frail.

For a fragile second, it felt like they were breathing the same

“Shixiong—”

With a cry, he was wrenched from Ming Fan’s grip and into the Abyss below. Ming Fan’s cry was strangled in his throat.

He didn’t know how long he remained there, clenching the burned grass with white-knuckled fingers and straining his eyes to see through the acrid smoke that rose from the chasm for even the barest glimpse of Luo Binghe. But time moved on and the Rift sealed shut and when Ming Fan blinked and once more became aware of his surroundings, he realized he was not alone.

Shen Qingqiu loomed over him like a stone Buddha, face cold as jade. His spiritual sword was once more sheathed, his robes neat and not one hair out of place. As though he hadn’t had a hand in what had happened here.

“You… you killed him,” Ming Fan breathed, still unable to fully process what had just taken place. But that’s what it was, a death sentence fed to the hungry maw of the Endless Abyss.

Shen Qingqiu. “He was a stain upon our sect.”

Ming Fan could feel the rage slowly rise. “He was a disciple of Qing Jing Peak. He was your disciple.” Acknowledging it was like vinegar on his tongue but a boy was dead because of him. He stared at Shen Qingqiu as if seeing him for the first time. Stripped of his elegance and his masks…

“He was a demon.” Shen Qingqiu sneered down at him. “There is no need to explain to you why he needed to be eradicated.”

Ming Fan tore burning eyes away from that frigid, impassive mask. He couldn’t bear looking at the man he had so long idolized. Instead he stared at the ground, in fear he would do or say something he could not undo. And beside his knee he saw slivers of metal.

The shards of Zheng Yang, tangled in the burned grass. Ming Fan’s vision blurred and his breath grew sharp and ragged, anger slamming into him full force. He wrapped his fingers around the pieces, the razor pain of their edges grounding him as the rest of his world unraveled like poorly woven cloth. His shizun had failed him.

And he had failed his shidi.

[boysnberriespie]

I don’t care if you’re telling Elon Musk to kill himself but everybody on this site really has to stop saying that shit to random strangers for real

[gender-euphowrya]

it still baffles me how cults get founded like i'm watching this documentary about a guy who claimed he'd met aliens who were actually the creators of earth and humanity and they took him to their planet and he met jesus muhammad buddha and moses there

like i know they prey on very vulnerable people who are more prone to manipulation but man. how do you believe That gfkdhkjgdf

[teazart]

Continuation of the Beast Peak Lord SY AU with SJ.

Click here for part 1

They both would have gotten to Cang Qiong a little later than everyone else. However, with SY there with SJ, SJ is less bitter with someone with him that is also a little bit behind on their cultivation. With SY there with SJ he never had to learn under Wu Yanzi so his cultivation core is only underdeveloped rather than shattered and pieced back together haphazardly.

When SJ first found out that SY got into the Beast Peak instead of Qing Jing he was absolutely upset. He went on long silent stint, ignoring SY until he couldn't take it anymore. Meaning that SJ broke first, despite being equally as stubborn as SY, and sought him out to talk.

Idk if I want to go into more detail about their disciple years. Maybe if I find the energy I will :). But when SJ first became Head Disciple and understood that would mean he would be the next peak lord he was hesitant to accept as he didn't want to leave SY behind. Thankfully SY, or course, being the top performer of his peak also became Head Disciple. I like to think they have this sappy promise when they first joined the sect (or even before when they met at the Qiu mansion whispering late into the night about far off plans of escaping and becoming more than what they are now) that they promised each other that they would get married when they became Peak Lords. But or course, it's only so that they could guarantee that they would both raise above their stations forced upon them at childhood. Yes, definitely not because they both started to realize that maybe they were the only two people on the face of the Earth that knew so much about each other without the fear of judgement. Or that they are so comfortable around each other than any other person. And to add some sparkle I think it would be hilarious if they did a small no-nonsense wedding that was just them and the officiator. And none of the other peak lords know about their marriage status and it somehow become unveiled at the most inconvenient time.

I haven't thought about how YQQ would fit into this but I'll figure it out...maybe. And I still want SY to be a transmigrator. Maybe his early arc could be that he's starting to learn that SJ had a more complicated past/ maybe this was like the rough draft of what SJ could have been. And SY is PISSED that readers were left without vital context to SJ motivations and even more so that SJ was delt the worst hand out of all the character. I also think it'll add a little flare with the system there or if like SY started out with the system and then gained enough points throughout his life to get rid of it idk. I do know for sure that when SY meets with SQH and finds out he's the author there is going to be less words spoken and more action taken lmao.

Sorry for the rambling. Again I'm a shitty writer and just had this AU stuck in my head that I needed to get out so all I got is drawing dumb doodles of this. I'll link the first part of this AU up at the top of this post incase y'all want to see the humble beginnings of this AU.

[templeofshame]

[whoreforsexymen]

The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.

[waterlilyvioletfog]

Rating Scum Villain Characters By How Much I Cheer When I See Them Depicted With Grey Hair

It goes without saying that this list is highly subjective. But it makes me happy! I have not actually seen all these characters with grey hair, i don’t think. Listed ages reflect end of book except where stated otherwise.

Mobei-jun: 2/10. Age: fuck if I know. We’ll say he’s like 39. I understand the whole ice prince aesthetic makes silver/white haired Mobei-jun attractive to some people but I personally think it’s really funny if he just looks absurdly young forever. Assigned youngest child.

Shang Qinghua: 6/10. Age: like 40 or 80 if you count his first life. Shang Qinghua’s perpetual state of total stress is one of his most defining characteristics so grey hair for this character makes sense. Also jives well with his whole sleazy uncle kind of vibe. When paired with above, it can make MBJ look like SQH’s inappropriately younger boyfriend, which is deeply funny to me. Unfortunately, the twinkification of this character in fandom limits my opportunities to experience this kind of joy.

Luo Binghe: 0/10. Age: like 25. It just feels wrong.

Shen Jiu: 8/10. Age: depends, we’ll say 40. If Shen Jiu had grey hair he would dye that shit so fucking fast. Yue Qingyuan would try to re-assure him that oh, shidi, grey hair is nothing to be ashamed about!! And Shen Jiu would be like you stupid fuck it’s clearly caused by my terrible shitty cultivation GET OFF MY FUCKING MOUNTAIN!!!!!!!! But fun fact! It is actually caused by his constant hyper-vigilance, PTSD, and meteoric stress levels. 🙏💚

Ning Yingying: 1/10. Age: also like 25. Gets 1 point for the hilarity of a character named baby ending up prematurely grey.

Ming Fan: 5/10. Age: 27-ish. This kid is so fucking stressed. Obviously this more applies post-jump, not to volume 1!Ming Fan. There is excellent potential here though for every time something happens to Shen Qingqiu, Ming Fan shows up looking greyer and more haggard.

Liu Mingyan: 0/10. Age: like 25. Idk it just doesn’t inspire me.

Sha Hualing: 1/10. Age: also like 25. I was gonna say 0/10 and then i thought about Luo Binghe-wrangling giving her grey hair and her furiously dyeing it black again and I thought it was funny. Sue me.

Gongyi Xiao: 2/10 Age: ??? Dead anyways. See, if the depiction of GYX gives him grey hair, that means he lived long enough to have grey hair 🥺

Yang Yixuan: -10/10 Age: Baby. Reason: Baby.

Tianlang-jun: 10/10. Age: I don’t fucking know, man. Lots of great reasons to give TLJ some greys. # 1, it helps distinguish him visually from Binghe. # 2, appropriate since he is an evil DILF. # 3: my guy got crushed under a mountain for like twenty years I think that entitles him to some grey hair. # 4: I think he’d be completely ridiculous about it. I am imagining him frantically denying he looks his age and demanding Zhuzhi-lang tell him he still looks pretty.

Zhuzhi-lang: 3/10. Age: ?????? On the one hand, ZZL is probably old enough and stressed enough to have grey hair. On the other other hand, his hair is typically depicted as mostly green, partially snakes, so, like, ymmv.

Su Xiyan: 6/10. Age: dead, would probably be in her 40s/50s if she were alive. Look, I cannot deny the appeal of giving some grey hair to the dead dilf mother of all time. Tianlang-jun would also, unfortunately, be staggeringly horny about it.

Mu Qingfang: 7/10. Age: 40s-ish. *Nods approvingly*

Liu Qingge: 4/10. Age: 30-45. Liu Qingge is the assigned baby of the peak lords, so giving him grey hair always feels weird to me. He would look pretty with like a cool silver streak tho. I do also see some appeal to him acquiring grey hair during the five year time skip due to the *hand waves*.

Qi Qingqi: 7/10. Age: 40s-ish. MILF.

Yue Qingyuan: 16/10. Age: 40s-ish. Makes absolutely perfect sense. This is one of the most stressed men alive. He’s very literally the assigned da-ge by the narrative. His cultivation is a total mess because of Xuan Su! Frankly, I’m surprised his hair isn’t totally white by the end of this book! because it would make sense!! within its literary and cultural context from what I know!! Also, it would work with his wardrobe.

Shen Qingqiu: 10/10. Age: 27-ish, technically, except also in his 40s, except also immortal so who really knows. Similar to YQY and TLJ, this makes sense. Shen Qingqiu’s abysmal physical health and terrible mental health are persistent throughout the text, and things like Without A Cure and the widow arc are perfect excuses for SQQ to have grey hair. It makes him look older, which is fun in SQQ’s context for a variety of reasons, including the fact that LBH would find it hot. Elegant, Beautiful, Graceful, Scholarly Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen having grey hair is a beautiful thing indeed 💚