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randomprose · 9 months

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now posted on AO3!

Mo Guan Shan is sitting on the kitchen island eating a sandwich when He Cheng walks in.

He looks up from scrolling through his phone, looking a little startled.

“Mo Guan Shan,” He Cheng acknowledges with a nod before heading to the fridge.

“Uh. Hey, boss."

“Where’s He Tian?"

“Still sleepin’,” he shrugs. “Got bored an’ hungry waitin’ for him to wake up.”

He Cheng just hums. His brother has always been one to sleep in late even as a child.

“Have you eaten?” Mo Guan Shan asks, a hand scratching the back of his neck. He looks awkward standing in He Cheng’s kitchen — rarely used, all stainless steel, and state of the art — yet strangely comfortable behind the counter near the stoves. At least before He Cheng came in. This is the most relaxed He Cheng has ever seen him in his house over the years.

He mulls the question over, probably blurted out on impulse. He’s really only here to get a bottle of water.

“I've had coffee”, was what he said after awhile. He can’t quite remember what time that was. Some time between the early hours of a new day and before the crack of dawn.

Mo Guan Shan frowns, brows knitted together. The kid is very expressive, He Cheng observes. Easy to draw reaction from. He can see why He Tian loses his shit pushing this kid’s buttons.

“That’s not exactly food.”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” Never had the stomach for it. Just never made sense for him to eat so early in the morning.

“Er. It’s past noon, boss,” Mo Guan Shan somehow feels the need to remind him. He Cheng just stares at him. “Technically it’s lunchtime bordering on…mid-afternoon snack?”

It dawns on He Cheng that, given his answer, this kid wants him to eat something. Mo Guan Shan either has certain manners drilled into him — He Cheng caught him eating when he entered the kitchen so he felt the need to offer him something as well — or he has an inane need to take care of people. Just like He Tian.

He Cheng supposes that’s a good thing, if a bit of a soft touch — something that has no room in the world he and He Tian live in but is nonetheless welcomed and desired by He Cheng for his brother. He Tian could’ve done so much worse. At least He Cheng knows his brother is eating and taken care of. He swears that kid never knows how to look after himself.

“If you insist,” He Cheng allows and sits on a stool at the kitchen counter.

Mo Guan Shan visibly relaxes. Like he’s relieved He Cheng agreed he could cook for him. If he hadn’t ran a thorough background on him he’d think he’s going to try and poison him. Except the kid is terrible at hiding his expressions and controlling his body language and He Cheng has known him since he was in middle school.

“Alright. So, uh, what are you hungry for?”

He Cheng isn’t really hungry for anything, but he does acknowledge that he hasn’t eaten since yesterday and this will only be his first meal of the day. Still, he doesn’t think he can stomach a full meal right now.

“Just eggs will do.”

“Okay,” Mo Guan Shan nods. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled,” is all he says. No mention of how he likes it cooked, no preference for seasoning, no specifications of any kind. He Cheng doesn’t really care as long as it's edible and won’t upset his stomach.

Mo Guan Shan gets to work in silence. He Cheng watches him move and is not at all surprised that he knows his way around, knows where everything is. Qiu mentioned the kid is good in the kitchen, more than a decent cook, and is not above admitting that he enjoys his food despite the disaster that occured the one and only time the kids came over his place and had Mo Guan Shan made them dinner. He Cheng knows this, too. He knows that the kid is apprenticing in a family restaurant and is saving up to go to culinary school. He’s had to drop by He Tian’s place occasionally and was pleasantly surprised that his brother isn’t just subsisting on take-outs if at all.

But it’s just eggs and He Cheng isn’t really expecting anything. Eggs are just eggs after all.

After just about twenty minutes, Mo Guan Shan puts down a plate of the fluffiest looking scrambled eggs He Cheng has ever been served garnished with spring onions and what seem to be crushed potato chips. He serves it with a glass of orange juice on the side and the whole ensemble looks like it’s been lifted out of a lifestyle cooking magazine.

He Cheng takes a forkful and lets out a low pleased sound at the back of his throat.

"Good?" Mo Guan Shan asks, a corner of his lips quirked up in quiet satisfaction the way a cook is when they know someone enjoys their food.

"It is." He Cheng maintains that eggs are still just eggs but this really is good. Qiu’s not exaggerating then.

The eggs are light and cooked just right, lightly seasoned with the melted cheese adding another layer of flavor, and the potato chips give it a good crunch. He’s never even thought of potato chips as anything other than junk food.

"Yeah. Figured you and Tian like your scrambled eggs the same." Mo Guan Shan comments as he sits back down to finish his sandwich. "First time I made it he looked so pissed even though he couldn't stop shovelling eggs in his mouth. Thought he might've hated it and was just eating it to, I don’t know, not hurt my feelings or some shit, but then I heard him curse you under his breath and ask for seconds."

A thought that comes to He Cheng: He Tian eats breakfast and likes his eggs scrambled just like him.

“He hates it, but he's really alike you in a lot of ways, you know.”

Well, of course he is, He Cheng agrees. He practically raised that kid. He Tian’s bound to pick up some of He Cheng’s mannerisms and preferences for certain things whether he likes it or not.

“Coffee? Brewed a new batch.”

“Please.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just black, thanks.”

“You sure?" Mo Guan Shan asks like he doesn't believe him.

“I like it as it is.”

“Huh,” Mo Guan Shan sounds out before shrugging and pouring out two mugs.

This prompts He Cheng to ask, "Does Tian-di not take his coffee black then?"

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know his brother at all. Maybe there was a time that he did, when He Tian was small and only had him, but He Cheng doesn’t claim that he knows his brother beyond his childhood days. While He Tian seems to come to him more and more these days, their relationship is still rather estranged and not at all conventional, however that may be.

All He Cheng knows of He Tian is that his brother is of the good sort and that’s enough for him.

He Tian cares for his friends and cares for Mo Guan Shan in ways He Cheng will probably never understand. He’s better than He Cheng in a lot of ways that matter, more human perhaps, which suits him just fine. He never wanted He Tian to be someone their family has morphed and twisted to suit their needs and use as see fit. He never wanted He Tian to be like him.

And so He Cheng finds himself indulging in wanting to know the little things that make up his brother. Like how he likes his eggs and how he drinks his coffee.

“He does but I know he hates it. Everytime he drinks it he makes a face like it's poison.” Mo Guan Shan shrugs as he sits down across from him. He hands He Cheng one of the mugs and nurses one himself. “I don't know why he insists on drinking it this way.”

He Cheng just hums, breathing in the aroma of the coffee, not unaware of the way Mo Guan Shan is pointedly looking at him.

“Tian-di probably just can’t be bothered to have it otherwise.”

“Nah. He probably just thinks it makes him all mature and tough. As if cream and sugar makes you weak or some shit.”

Just before they both move to take a sip from their mugs, He Cheng mutters “Idiot” under his breath at the same time Mo Guan Shan scoffs it. They stop and couldn’t help to smirk at their consensus.

It’s good to know someone else can see through his brother’s bullshit.

He Cheng notes that Mo Guan Shan takes his coffee black. Mo Guan Shan just shrugs when he points this out.

“I like the bitter taste. It’s what keeps you awake,” he says before taking another sip. “And you taste the flavor of the beans better without the cover up of milk or sweetener.”

A fair assessment. He Cheng will drink to that.

For a while, they sat in silence as they finish their meals. Then Mo Guan Shan’s phone lights up. He drains the last of his coffee as he swipes at the screen. It seems a message has popped up because he picks it up and types something back. He Cheng surmises it’s probably He Tian, just woken up, asking where Mo Guan Shan is.

"Refill?" Mo Guan Shan offers, walking back to where the coffee pot is.

"No, thank you.”

Mo Guan Shan refills his cup and adds three spoons of cream and two sugar cubes. He Tian enters the kitchen with a jaw cracking yawn just as Mo Guan Shan is back on his seat and finished stirring. His brother takes the seat beside the redhead across from him and He Cheing watches the latter push the mug at He Tian’s direction. The cup is only three-quarts full.

“I’m done. Finish this.”

“You always do this. Why bother pouring a full cup if you’re not gonna drink even half of it?” He Tian quips but takes the mug anyway.

He Cheng notes his brother doesn’t make a face after the first sip. He Tian even licks at his upper lip and a corner of his mouth is quirked up.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“It’s way past noon.”

“It’s my first meal of the day. What’s for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs,” He Cheng answers before Mo Guan Shan could and delights at the face his brother makes when he sees what’s on his plate and realizes who made it.

‘What the…’ He Tian mouths as he narrows his eyes at what remains of He Cheng’s meal.

“You know what, I actually don’t want scrambled eggs. I want—”

“Tough shit. I’m already making them and you’re gonna eat it when it’s done.”

He Tian makes a low whining displeased sound but nonetheless doesn’t protest. “Throw in some bacon.”

“Alright.”

He Tian doesn’t offer to help beyond getting the pack of bacon from the fridge, handing it to Mo Guan Shan before returning to his seat. Like it’s routine. Like there’s an unspoken agreement that Mo Guan Shan cooks and He Tian stays out of his way. And He Cheng gathers he’s probably been shooed away and out of the kitchen when the other is at work. He Cheng can’t imagine his brother even knows how to operate a stove — just another thing they have in common by virtue of being born to money.

He Tian's attention is solely on Mo Guan Shan. His back is to He Cheng, leaning against the counter as he talks to the redhead. He asks if he slept well, what he wants to do today, if there’s somewhere he wants to go to, if he wants anything particular for dinner later. Mo Guan Shan makes a comment that makes He Tian laugh but goes over He Cheng's head and he figures it must be an inside joke between them.

There’s a kind of ease to it, the flow of their banter, the way they move around each other. He Tian certainly seems comfortable and at ease, the line of his back relaxed and lacking the usual tenseness of someone always ready to go on either the offense or defense.

Mo Guan Shan mirrors the same ease as he puts down a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast for He Tian, who turns his head to plant a kiss on his cheek in thanks.

The whole thing makes He Cheng feel like a fucking interloper in his own goddamn kitchen.

He Cheng looks at his brother with his own plate of scrambled eggs and Mo Guan Shan's mug of coffee, the one with cream and sugar he said he couldn't finish so He Tian would take it, and thinks it's the best life he could have ever hoped for him.

“Wash the dishes when you're done,” Mo Guan Shan says as he scrolls through his phone.

He Tian looks at the sink and makes a face at the pan and other things Mo Guan Shan used to cook.

“Man, do I have to? This isn’t even my house. And there are maids for a reason.”

“Tch. Spoiled brat.” Mo Guan Shan lightly pinches a chewing He Tian’s cheek, bulging with food. “Exactly. This isn’t your house. You use them, you clean them.”

“Cheng ate, too,” he nods to where He Cheng is finishing up the last of his meal. “Why don’t you make him do his dishes?” he says with a smirk, thinking he’s on to something.

“He’s letting the four of us stay for the summer.” Mo Guan Shan takes He Cheng’s plate and the empty glass of juice when he sees he’s done and soaks them in the sink. “Here. In this house that he owns. In an island that is his. For free.” He sends He Tian a look that says, ‘need I say more?’.

“What are you talking about? I’m paying for our stay here you know.”

“Oh, really? With what? Sure as hell haven’t seen you so much as touch your wallet since we got on the boat.”

“My sanity.”

Mo Guan Shan’s hand flexes and for a moment, He Cheng thinks his brother is gonna be hit over the head with the frying pan.

“Just,” the word is sighed through gritted teeth, “do the damn dishes. It’s not that hard.”

“Why don’t you do them then?”

“I already cooked, asshole. I ain't washin’ the dishes. 'sides, you're the last to finish eatin’ so you get to clean up. Them’s the rules.”

“Fine, but I'm only gonna wash mine,” He Tian declares, viciously biting on a chunk of toast.

“It's one plate and a mug, Tian,” Mo Guan Shan sighs sounding like he’s had this exact conversation a thousand times. “Don't be a little bitch and wash them all. Don't waste soap.”

“Baby, look around. We can afford the waste.”

Mo Guan Shan levels him a look which He Tian stares right back as he continues to chew. It goes on for maybe a minute or two. A standoff with just their eyes, willing the other to back down first.

He Cheng doesn’t quite know what’s going on between the stare down and the silence, but He Tian is the first to look away with a groan. The one to concede first, apparently.

“Uuughhh! Fine! Fuck it! Fine! I'll do the damn dishes.”

“Yeah, as you should,” Mo Guan Shan quips looking satisfied with his victory. He Cheng marvels at how easy it is for him when getting He Tian to do anything, even if it's for his own good, has always been like pulling teeth. “I’m gonna go call my mom. There's more coffee in the pot. Creamer ran out, but there's milk in the fridge.”

“You know I only take my coffee black.”

Mo Guan Shan watches with a flat expression as He Tian sips ‘his’ coffee with cream and sugar. He catches He Cheng's eyes and shoots him a look that says, ‘are you seeing this shit?’ which He Tian doesn’t catch.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He doesn’t bother contesting. “There’s more toast in the bread box.”

“Buttered?”

“Butter it yourself, idiot,” Mo Guan Shan shoots back making a face at him.

“Can’t even do that simple thing for me, babe? Really starting to doubt this relationship right now.”

“Good. You shouldn’t get too complacent anyway, dick head.” He hops out of his seat and swats at He Tian’s grabby hands. “Do the damn dishes or I swear to god you won’t have anything to doubt anymore.”

He Cheng watches the exchange and feels like he’s in a sitcom. He thinks about how his initial plan to get a bottle of water has led to him being caught between his brother and his boyfriend play fighting, flirting, and the domesticity of it all. He thinks about asking Mo Guan Shan how he does that whole thing where he just stares at He Tian and makes him yield but figures it would only work if you're Mo Guan Shan.

He remembers a time when He Tian lowered his pride. Impulsive, insolent, and desperate, he came crawling back to He Cheng and was even willing to go as far as becoming something he hates. All for the sake of some boy, some school friend, some little pet project that he picked up because he was bored that morphed into something else, something more.

Mo Guan Shan made He Tian care for another. He made He Tian care so much he was willing to make himself into a monster for Mo Guan Shan, but stopped him just in time from going the deep end and even made him more human. Hell, Mo Guan Shan made He Tian care about himself. And for all that, He Cheng is grateful.

"Thanks," he says as much and means more than just the best scrambled eggs he's had in a while, but Mo Guan Shan would never know it. "You really didn't have to."

"Huh. Oh, uh, sure.” It catches Mo Guan Shan off-guard, halting him from leaving the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish as he says, “It's nothing, really. It's just…it’s just eggs."

He Cheng just hums and nods at him once in dismissal.

“Why are you so mean to me?” He Tian shouts after Mo Guan Shan, who’s already rounded the corner and only shouts back, “Dishes!”

He Tian scowls but there’s no real heat in it. He even asks He Cheng if he wants the rest of the coffee, which he declines, when he stood up to get more toast before tucking back into his eggs.

He Cheng sees that He Tian is happy, thinks Mo Guan Shan brings out all the best in him, and hopes to all the gods he doesn't believe in that his brother don't ever fuck this one up.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until He Tian asks, “What?” around a mouthful of toast.

“Nothing,” He Cheng says as he finishes his coffee, and as he stands up he says, “Make sure you bring him along everytime you plan to come over. Otherwise, don’t come at all.” And just to spite him, he slides his empty mug closer to He Tian. “And make sure you do the damn dishes.”

He gets the desired effect. The glare his brother sent him is acrid and his next words make He Cheng want to laugh.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

“I didn’t. Mo Guan Shan did.”

“Whatever. Shut the fuck up.”

He Cheng just smirks and doesn’t hit him for his impertinence if only because He Tian grumbling, “I was gonna do them anyway” has already made his day.

Later, as He Cheng sits on his desk looking over his schedule, he sees that he has an appointment with their legal team. A thought strikes him and he scribbles a curt note at the margins and tells his secretary to summon the family lawyers too.

He might as well update the family registry.

edit: now posted on AO3! glad you guys like this piece. please leave kudos and comments there as well. thank you! :)

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #he cheng #he cheng and mo guan shan have a moment #in which mgs asks hc how he likes his eggs #hc thinks ht really lucked out on mgs #hc thanks mgs for making ht happy #not out loud tho lol #writing

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lurkingshan · 8 months

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On Boston and Brian Kinney

I’ve seen a lot of folks in the Only Friends tag recently making connections between the show and Queer as Folk, both US and UK versions, which makes sense because QaF is a clear reference for the show, both visually and thematically, and we know Jojo likes to reference western media in his work. One parallel folks are drawing is not tracking for me, however, so I am jumping in the wayback machine and putting on my old QaF stan hat to talk to y’all about Brian Kinney, and why Boston is actually nothing like him. Tagging @bengiyo and @neuroticbookworm who talked this through with me and also @slayerkitty because I saw you were contemplating this connection between the two characters.

So, first, why are people making this comparison? It really boils down to one thing: Brian and Boston are both sluts. That’s… pretty much it. They both like sex and prefer to have it with many different partners, and neither has much use for monogamy. But this is pretty much where their similarities end.

So let’s remind ourselves who Brian Kinney is: a kind of fantasy of a hot, rich, self-actualized gay man with unmatched sexual prowess and a surface level flippancy masking a heart of gold. Brian is an adult man with a thriving career and money that he earned for himself after leaving his abusive and homophobic family (who would eventually explicitly reject him because of his sexuality). As a result, he is defiant in his commitment to live his life as loudly and queerly as possible—which includes a dedication to fucking and sucking, public sex, and a rejection of heteronormative constructs like monogamy.

Brian has a very clear moral code he lives by, even if it’s not one most can relate to. He decides to have a son with his (lesbian) best friend because part of him wants to believe in a better future and build a family of his own. He is extremely loyal to his found family even as he’s a jerk to their face most of the time, and he is always working behind the scenes to protect them even as he often hurts their feelings with his glib remarks and shitty behavior. Despite his disdain for monogamy, he never actually tries to destroy any of his friends’ happy relationships (in fact, he tries to sacrifice his own friendship with Michael to ensure he stays with his boyfriend).

Brian has a sense of responsibility to others and often takes on the blame for things he didn’t even do, which is why he takes baby gay Justin to Debbie and ensures he is cared for even as he tries to dissuade Justin from getting attached to him, and why he cares for Justin in the aftermath of his bashing. He cares deeply about his community, to the point where he pours his money into protecting the local gay scene, literally bankrupts himself to stop an anti-gay politician from winning an election, and gives up a dream job to stay put in Pittsburgh and help rebuild the community after a hate crime.

Brian is unflinchingly honest and he avoids making promises because once he does, he knows he will absolutely keep them—he takes his commitments seriously and he always does what he says he will. When he falls in love, he does not abandon his core values but he is willing to make some compromises. And he hides his better self and often wallows in self-destructive behavior because he feels deeply unworthy of love, which goes back to the intergenerational trauma he experienced as a child in an abusive home and the parental rejection he felt due to his sexuality.

Boston, by contrast, is a character who feels more rooted in reality. He’s a pampered rich kid who is indulged in his hobbies and who already has a life plan laid out for him and paid for by his daddy. He likes to sleep around mostly because it’s fun, and because he knows his life here is temporary so he doesn’t see any point in getting attached to people. In stark contrast to Brian’s out and proud and fuck you if you have a problem with it brand of politics, he is still trying to hide who he is in service of his father’s political career, even if he’s pretty sloppy about it (see him fucking Top in a car with giant windows parked in the driveway at a house party).

Boston’s moral code is fungible and ever-changing to fit his circumstances—boy is a hypocrite (see his opinions about people filming and photographing him even as he does the same to others constantly). He has no loyalty and no qualms about hurting and betraying his friends, and actively tries to destroy their relationships for sport or as a means to get what he wants. He does not feel responsible for anyone and often lies and ducks accountability for the things he does. He does not care about his community at all, and in fact already has a NYC escape hatch in his back pocket for when he inevitably burns his bridges. He is not as honest as Brian and sends a lot of mixed messages to keep people guessing and on the hook.

Rather than hurting people by being brutally honest as Brian does, Boston plays psychological games and manipulates his friends and lovers, and he seems to take twisted pleasure in blowing up their happiness. We haven’t seen him make a promise or fall in love, and while there are some signs that he may have some sort of inferiority complex at play (with Mew in particular), his motives are not tied to any past trauma. Boston is just a messy bitch who loves chaos and doesn’t really care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants and stays entertained. Where Brian is literally a superhero to his loved ones, Boston is just a very flawed human being.

But Shan, I hear you saying, I thought you liked Boston! I do, besties, I do. He’s a fantastic character and a very real kind of person many of us encounter in our 20s. Because that’s the thing: Boston is so young. He hasn’t developed any sense of responsibility to others or any understanding of the importance of queer community, and he has never had to take care of himself, which is perhaps the biggest difference between him and Brian. Brian has lived independently for more than a decade when we meet him in QaF, whereas Boston is a spoiled rich kid who has barely lived. Brian is a fully realized adult and his more nuanced characterization is a reflection of that; Boston is actually a pretty basic chaotic drama queen who will grow up eventually.

TL;DR: Aside from being promiscuous, Boston has very little in common with Brian Kinney. He is more a reflection of a very real kind of person you will meet on the scene in queer communities than an homage to a larger than life fictional QaF character. And while OF is absolutely referencing some of the themes and values and stylistic flourishes of QaF, it is not making direct parallels to its characters.

#did i write this mostly as an excuse to get brian kinney on this blog?#who can say #only friends the series #queer as folk #thai bl #ofts #only friends #ephemerality squad #shan shouts into the void

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hechengs-ass · 6 months

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He Tian : Please, I'm begging you-

Mo : Are you? If you are were begging, you'd be on your kness.

He Tian :...

Mo : I DIDN'T MEAN THAT! LET GO OF MY PANTS!

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itsthislake · 10 months

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Shen Yuan transmigrated as a Spirit Cat AU (part 2)

First chapter.

---

The rest of the examination, all dutifully narrated by Mu Qingfang, passed in something of a blur comprised mostly of internal screaming and a great deal of cursing, and he only came back to reality when he was picked up by a pair of warm hands.

Shen Yuan flinched and looked up at the man who could only be Liu Qingge, the War God of Bai Zhan and older brother of Best Wife, Liu Mingyan. Living proof that this was a time before the protagonist joined Qing Jing Peak.

Liu Qingge died by Shen Qingqiu’s hand sometime around then, after all.

“Come on,” he said, easily settling Shen Yuan on the crook of his arm and starting to walk like this was an established routine of many years instead of something that had happened twice so far and once under duress.

Distracted as he was, Shen Yuan didn’t bother to question it until they were already flying on— on Cheng Luan again. This sword was as cool as he had imagined, now that he looked at it properly. He smacked Liu Qingge’s arm with his paw until he got his attention, then meowed in question.

Liu Qingge stared for a second before seemingly realizing what he was asking.

“We’re going to see the sect leader, Yue Qingyuan,” he explained. “I need to give him my mission report. And inform him of your presence on the mountain.”

“Meow?”

“Cang Qiong has a rule about bringing in any Spirit Cats that we find. For protection,” Liu Qingge clarified, giving him an unreadable look. “There aren’t many left, so Spirit Cats sell high in many circles. None that our sect supports, of course.”

Huh. Shen Yuan hadn’t known that, even after jogging his memory post realizing which world this is.

He remembered Colored Claw Spirit Cats being mentioned in one of the later chapters of PIDW, something about how they had all gone extinct because of human greed and whatnot. He thinks it might have been wife #629 who complained about how tragic it was to Luo Binghe before the protagonist comforted her with his tried-and-true heavenly pillar. In hindsight, that was probably the last bit of actual worldbuilding Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had given them before deciding to write terrible papapa and needlessly convoluted harem shenanigans for the next sixty or so chapters before the end of the novel.

What Shen Yuan hadn’t known, however, was that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect actively rescued and protected Spirit Cats. Of course, with the sect long since destroyed and most of the Peak Lords dead or integrated into the harem and promptly abandoned, there was no reason whatsoever for that to come up at that point in the novel.

Regardless, it was an interesting detail of this world, as well as an incredibly convenient fact for him now.

“Liu Qingge,” Liu Qingge said abruptly. Shen Yuan blinked at him, watching the red slowly creep up his ears with slight fascination. Woah. He even blushed prettily, how unfair. “My name. It’s Liu Qingge. I realized I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

Oh, that was very polite of him. Which was a little strange coming from the guy who chased him through a village for almost four hours earlier that day and who he just saw kick his shidi’s office door in for no real reason. Shen Yuan huffed, then rubbed his face on the man’s arm, purring pleasantly.

“Hmm. Do you have a name?”

“Meow!”

“I see.”

What do you see? Shen Yuan wanted to ask, genuinely confused as to what Liu Qingge thought he understood. Alas, for lack of the vocal cords necessary for human speech, he just settled back down instead and decided to enjoy the ride.

Flying was kind of fun, he was learning.

---

Yue Qingyuan met Shen Yuan’s sudden presence on his mountain with a not inconsiderable amount of polite confusion.

Then, after Liu Qingge explained the situation, including the results of Mu Qingfang’s examination that Shen Yuan had missed almost entirely and was thus glad to hear summarized now, the sect leader just rolled with it with as much grace as his character in the novel took anything unrelated to Shen Qingqiu.

So far, Shen Yuan’s first impression of the sect leader was very much in line with what he already knew from PIDW.

Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan helpfully elaborated on Cang Qiong’s policy on Spirit Cats that Liu Qingge had mentioned earlier. Apparently, the claws of adult Spirit Cats sold very high among a significant number of cultivator circles because of their special properties, and the declawed creatures were usually sold as ‘exotic pets’ to nobles, where they would inevitably die from either improper care or health issues brought on by the loss of their claws. If caught by the wrong people, young Spirit Cats like himself would most likely be caged and tortured to quicken the awakening of their special abilities.

Because of this massive traffic that was both somehow legal and absolutely horrid to think about, the number of Spirit Cats left had been on the decline for many decades now, and none had reached a point in their cultivation where they could take a human form in over three centuries, as far as anyone was aware.

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, as well as a number of other sects, strictly forbade the abuse of Spirit Cats and the use of their claws to further their cultivation, as well as offered sanctuary for any that they found in the wild or rescued.

“It has been many years since the last time a Spirit Cat resided in Cang Qiong,” Yue Qingyuan said regretfully, tone somber. “When this lord was still head disciple, he had the privilege to meet with one. Master Zhou’s meridians had unfortunately been crippled before he came to our sect, so he never managed to cultivate to a human form despite achieving immortality. This one was told that he was the youngest of a trio of siblings who were rescued together, but that his older sisters had already been declawed and thus did not manage to survive long even in our care. Lan Qingyi, the current Lord of the Shan Shou Peak, was the one who took care of Master Zhou during his final years.”

Listening to Yue Qingyuan’s recounting felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. All the terrible, horrible things that had made PIDW’s worldbuilding engaging were now real. It was his reality, and that of the people who were here now and had been here before him. The reality of Master Zhou who in the end was unable to reach Ascension, of his sisters who suffered so much and died long before their time. It caused Shen Yuan’s fur to stand on end as he listened to the sect leader speak.

However.

It also felt a little bit like hope. Because, see, for every trafficker out there, for every cruel bastard out to get his kind, there was also a person willing to protect them. Willing to give Spirit Cats a place where they could grow and live peacefully.

And those people were here, in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, offering him that help now as well.

Huan Hua Palace, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with capturing Spirit Cats and using them as they saw fit. There were even rumors that the Old Palace Master had kept one or two declawed Spirit Cats as pets not so long ago.

Needless to say, Shen Yuan had dodged a massive bullet there. It was nothing short of a miracle that Liu Qingge was the one the villagers asked for help and not a cultivator from Huan Hua Palace, seeing as it was literally their territory.

Shen Yuan had seen Huan Hua Palace disciples flying around, for fuck’s sake.

Liu Qingge’s other hand had come up to rest lightly on top of him at some point during the story and Shen Yuan silently leaned into it, rubbing his cheek against his palm in an instinctual, soothing motion as he tried to burrow his body deeper into the crook of his arm.

“This conversation has taken a dark turn, my apologies,” said Yue Qingyuan softly, when the silent became too heavy. “I’m afraid that this topic is not one that can be avoided for long and it is better to be aware of the dangers sooner rather than later. This master would like to formally extend Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s protection to the esteemed spirit, as well as an invitation to stay here for however long he wishes.”

Shen Yuan meowed quietly in agreement, and watched as the sect leader smiled gently at him. Then the man nodded, reaching for a brush and some paper.

“We’ll need to record your arrival and arrange everything for your stay,” he informed them. Even if the heavy thoughts lingered in his mind, for now the dark atmosphere seemed to have lifted as they moved onto another topic, for which Shen Yuan was grateful.

Yue Qingyuan paused, as if only now remembering something, and looked up at them curiously.

“Ah. We require a name for the paperwork. Since it was Liu-shidi who found and brought him to the sect, perhaps he could name the esteemed spirit as well?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Liu Qingge shook his head.

“He already has a name,” he informed solemnly.

“Oh?” Yue Qingyuan raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at him. Shen Yuan also stared, wondering what he would answer. He obviously never told him his name and he was certain that the War God couldn’t read minds.

(Well. Mostly certain, anyway. Great Master Airplane was hardly reliable when it came to developing characters who weren’t wives or Luo Binghe past a certain point in the novel, or any characters at all past another point just slightly ahead in the novel, and Shen Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow forgotten to mention such an important aspect of this awesome character that he’d killed off-screen.

Would he be angry? Of course. Disappointed by the wasted potential? Most definitely. But surprised? After reading that whole godawful story? Ha! As if. Shen Yuan knew exactly what he was in for when he paid for each chapter.)

“He did not tell me what it is,” said the man who, as expected, could not read minds.

Liu Qingge! Shen Yuan cried in his mind, a little exasperated.

“Ah. Of course,” said the sect leader, smiling politely at both of them. He looked like he wanted to sigh but was too polite to do so and had instead defaulted to smiling. “However, I still need a name for the report. Until he can tell us his name, how does the esteemed spirit feel about having a nickname?”

Liu Qingge frowned at the same time that Shen Yuan perked up.

“A nickname?”

“Yes. Something simple and easy to remember that we can use in the meantime.”

Shen Yuan meowed pointedly, tapping Liu Qingge in the arm. The man just stared back silently, clearly deep in thought, before he nodded.

“The children at the village called him Xiao Maomi,” he declared.

“Xiao Maomi?” Yue Qingyuan repeated, looking at Shen Yuan for confirmation.

Shen Yuan considered it. It was very on the nose for a nickname, likely because it was a bunch of little kids who thought of it in the first place, but ‘little kitty’ wasn’t too terrible all things considered. He could have gotten stuck with a name like Doudou or Danhuang. Now that would have been embarrassing.

Therefore, he meowed positively. It was only temporary anyways so he didn’t care much.

Yue Qingyuan smiled politely, reaching for a brush. “Very well. We’ll put ‘Xiao Maomi’ down in the paperwork for now. It can always be changed at a later date.”

While Yue Qingyuan wrote, Shen Yuan looked up at Liu Qingge, considering. Then he wiggled out from under Liu Qingge’s hand, earning himself a curious look that he ignored, and used his claws to quickly climb up his arm and settle on the man’s shoulder, head resting on the collar of his robes.

The reason why the children of the village had taken to calling him ‘little kitty,’ as opposed to only ‘kitty,’ was immediately obvious to anybody with working eyes. This body of his was quite small even for an average cat’s, even a kitten’s, which had worked in his favor while he was sneaking around the village and against him during fights.

Shen Yuan had originally attributed this to a lack of proper nutrition coupled with a young age, but even after months of stealing food he remained around the same size. Now he wondered if maybe it had something to do with him being a Colored Claw Spirit Cat. He made a mental note to find more information on them later.

Right now, however, his small body meant that he was the perfect size to lay down on Liu Qingge’s shoulders and not have to worry about falling, something he intended to take full advantage of.

Liu Qingge huffed quietly, but made no moves to stop Shen Yuan.

Eventually, the sect leader set down his brush and looked back at them with a considering expression.

“In regards to Maomi-xiansheng’s new living arrangements,” he began lightly. “Normally, all Spirit Cats would be sent to the Shan Shou Peak where they’d be able to settle down and live their lives comfortably. However, Peak Lord Lan is currently in seclusion, and this master is uncertain whether any of her disciples are equipped to house and care for Maomi-xiansheng, as they are all quite young and inexperienced still.”

Ah, Shan Shou Peak, the Beast Taming Peak. One of many places that only got one or two lines when Luo Binghe joined and later destroyed Cang Qiong in PIDW. Shen Yuan had always been curious about this particular peak and all the (obviously wasted) potential it held, something he had ranted about on many occasions in the comment section. Infuriatingly, that hack author had once replied to one of his comments with, “okay okay chill dude, I’ll describe more of the sect in the next chapter,” and then spent six whole paragraphs describing Xian Shu Peak’s bathhouse and all the shijies in it.

Shen Yuan had never genuinely considered murder in his past life, but by god did he get close that day. He was sure his comment, written in a fugue state of pure rage, had reflected that.

“Doesn’t Lan Qingyi have Hall Masters on her peak?” Liu Qingge said, and though Shen Yuan couldn’t exactly see his expression from his position, he got the impression that the man was scowling as he said that.

“I believe they are occupied caring for all the creatures already in-house and teaching the disciples during Lan-shimei’s absence,” Yue Qingyuan answered, tone as close to exasperated as possible while still remaining polite. “Lan-shimei’s approach to her duties as Peak Lord is very different to Liu-shidi’s, after all.”

Shen Yuan had no idea what that was about, but he could almost feel the self-restraint it took Liu Qingge not to huff. The sect leader continued before he could question it.

“Nonetheless, with Shan Shou Peak not being an option, Maomi-xiansheng will need another place to stay, at least until Lan-shimei is back. Since it was Liu-shidi who brought him here, perhaps he wouldn’t mind housing Maomi-xiansheng until then?”

“En,” Liu Qingge nodded, after a moment of thought. “I do not mind.”

Yue Qingyuan smiled in response.

“Thanking shidi.”

And thus, Shen Yuan moved in with Liu Qingge.

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limbokidd · 10 months

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Yikes

#don’t mind me coming up with the most bullshit captions #format is shit but we ball #i should write another fanfic mhm #19 days #19 days art #19 days old xian #he tian #mo guan shan #he tian x mo guan shan #fanart #art #doodles

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shanniiine · 1 year

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writerblr intro !!

shalom! i'm shannon, i'm a university student majoring in writing (and psychology) and i'm an aspiring author :]

i'm joining the writerblr community after being off tumblr since high school in hopes of receiving feedback and to share my works with other writers !

i've written hundreds of poems and a bunch of short stories. i have one major wip that i've been working on for...seven years... and i hope to share bits and pieces of it here!

i primarily write sapphic stories and i plan on posting projects that i've written for fun/practice here, and as i mentioned previously, feedback and constructive criticism are appreciated !!

i'd love to get to know other writers in the community!! please feel free to dm or send an ask! writers grow best in the company of other writers after all :]

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lanabenikosdoormat · 1 year

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icarus

Jed doesn’t think about Hunter anymore. Not consciously at least. Oh he’s there sometimes, especially in the recesses of his slumbering mind. His broad devilish smile and the cunning demeanor of his gaze.

He’d felt nothing when he fired his blaster, right between those eyes and watched Hunter slump onto the cold floor below. He’d never felt so hollow, so alone. And when he made the trek back to the ship there was nothing to carry him but his own profound emptiness.

Hunter was the sun: blinding and all consuming. His violent warmth burned to the touch, charring Jed’s skin. It scarred his soul and left him bare. He was made an Icarus, left to crash into the sea in the wake of his ever-present love.

Next to him, Theron stirs slightly, rolling over in his sleep. His tired eyes now at ease, the stress melting away from his temples as he took a shallow breath. He was gorgeous, absolutely beautiful. Jed can’t help but stare.

It takes the former Cipher agent a few moments, before he pulls his hands up to his lovers face, tracing his jawline, carding his hands through his hair. Theron doesn’t wake, but the sides of his mouth quirk up slightly despite his heavy slumber. Then, Jed places a tender kiss onto his forehead, his breath shaky, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest as though it were about to burst.

“Go to sleep.” Theron mumbles at him, though a full blown smile finds its way onto his face.

Jed murmurs back, his voice hoarse. “For you, anything.”

He would’ve burned the galaxy down side-by-side for Hunter. Hand in unlovable hand. But for Theron, he would fix it. He would fight to make this galaxy better than it had been, to be a better man. He would. He will.

@grandninjamasterren ur getting the tag as my enabler here

#drabble #my writing #holy shit i’m so scared #i think this is the first time i’ve posted any of my written stuff #cipher nine #imperial agent #oc: jed solaris #swtor hunter #theron shan #my art #solarian #dividers r by cafekitsune

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swtorramblings · 6 months

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It's really still bizarre to me that players didn't get that Theron was going undercover. It was not only blatantly obvious to an outside observer, it really should have been obvious to the Outlander and anyone internally with a lick of sense that knew the man.

He still shouldn't have done it. It was manipulative to his friends and allies. And possibly lover. But that's a separate criticism.

Which makes it even more perplexing that they appeared to give Lana the stupid ball. She accepts him back with little issue, so I suppose I can pretend that she was going along with it?

Bleh.

#swtor #theron shan #lana beniko #weird writing choices #weird fan reaction

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teanshan · 10 months

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something happened.

#tianshan #my tianshan fanart #he tian #mo guan shan #if anyone wants to write a one shot you're more than welcome

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ichigokeks · 1 month

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Mo still frowns when he laughs, his ears turn red and he bares his little fangs. It's his boyfriend who tickles him, who loves him very much. He is happy. He is happy. He is happy.

#i could write a poetry book on this picture alone #19 days #old xian #19 days update #he tian #mo guan shan #tianshan #19 days edit

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randomprose · 10 months

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“Why.”

Not a question. A demand. He Tian wonders if, as much as Mo Guan Shan says He Tian always makes demands of him, he’s also aware that he does the same.

“Hm?”

“Why me.”

He Tian ponders at the words as he runs his fingers on the side of Mo Guan Shan’s head resting in his chest. The shorn hair is starting to grow. Mo Guan Shan has noticed. And tomorrow, he’ll probably go to the barber shop downtown, the one he’s been going to since middle school, to get it cut again. Maybe he’ll ask He Tian to come and they can eat at the corner noodle shop next block from the barbers, the one with the really spicy mapo tofu Mo Guan Shan likes. He Tian will drag them to the fancy yogurt store he likes by the station to get his tongue to stop hurting from the mapo sauce and Mo Guan Shan will tease him about his shitty spice tolerance (It’s not! Mo Guan Shan’s Sichuanese palette is just short of demonic!) before heading home to do laundry.

Or if Mo Guan Shan doesn’t feel like going out, he’ll shave off the side of his head over the bathroom sink himself (maybe he’ll ask He Tian) and they’ll just order takeout. And then do laundry.

“Hey.” A pinch at He Tian’s exposed hip which hurt enough for him to tug at Mo Guan Shan’s ear in retaliation. “Answer the question, you dick.”

“Tch.” He Tian’s hand continues to run through Mo Guan Shang’s hair, down to his neck, to his shoulder, his arm, and then back up. Repeats.

The touch is light and almost absent. Done almost as if just for something to do. Mo Guan Shan knows He Tian is thinking. He waits.

There’s a myriad of answers to that. Chief among them is, well, He Tian doesn’t know really. Mo Guan Shan was just some delinquent who Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi fought once. He Tian helped beat him up and then he saw him again eating a sandwich outside of some convenience store he couldn’t remember what chain now. He Tian was bored. Mo Guan Shan was a good distraction. A fun distraction. He made He Tian laugh. Truly. Genuinely. The type that travels warm through the chest and sits pleasantly in the belly. The type of laugh he has to stifle. And He Tian can’t remember the last time he laughed that wasn’t out of derision or condescension. Mo Guan Shan is a good cook. A really good cook. He Tian never really cared much for food beyond needed sustenance but the first taste of Mo Guan Shang’s beef stew got him craving. To this day, He Tian swears it’s one of the best dishes he’s ever had. Mo Guan Shan needed better friends and maybe at the time He Tian also needed a friend. Mo Guan Shan was strong but he needed saving too and He Tian liked being needed.

Mo Guan Shan had the eyes of someone fighting the world as if it owes him something. He looked at He Tian like a nuisance and without any expectations. And He Tian liked exceeding expectations regardless if they don't exist so he took that as a challenge.

But it’s also precisely because Mo Guan Shan looked at him without expecting anything. For someone like He Tian that was the most refreshing thing in the world. Mo Guan Shan looks at him and He Tian can just be. And now the only expectations he wants to exceed are Mo Guan Shan’s.

“Your eyes.”

“What?”

“It was your eyes. I liked them.”

“Liked?” Past tense?

“I still do. I like you.”

“My eyes, huh.” A pause. “Why?” A genuine question this time.

He Tian shrugs. “They looked sad.”

“Have you looked in the mirror.”

“Not the same.”

“You liked my eyes because they looked sad.”

“I like sad things.”

“You’re sad.”

“On the contrary, Little Mo.” He Tian presses Mo Guan Shan against his side. Skin to skin, half of Mo Guan Shan’s body practically draped over him. He keeps him there and drops a kiss on fiery auburn locks. Smiles against his temple when he doesn’t shift away and just stays there, pressed snug against He Tian. The arm thrown over his bare torso is a very welcomed warm weight. “I am actually very, very happy.”

Now. Because of you.

“What about now?”

He Tian lets his hand travel lower, beneath the sheet draped loosely over their hips, to grab at soft flesh.

“Oh, I am very, very, absolutely happy right now.”

“Tch.” Another pinch to his side, a light kick in the shins. “Not what I meant, pervert.”

“Eeeh. You love it.” Love me. “Well, what do you mean?”

“Are my eyes still sad?”

A consideration. “No.” He Tian thinks of warm brown eyes welcoming him home with dinner on the stove, thinks of the wicked glint in them just moments earlier looking down at him as Mo Guan Shan rides him, of the euphoric haze in them afterwards when He Tian flipped them and finished inside him. “Not much now, no.”

Because Mo Guan Shan still has his days when it feels like his insides are slowly but surely turning cold, chest heavy and hollow at the same time. They both do. And He Tian can’t pretend he can chase them all away any more than Mo Guan Shan can keep He Tian’s at bay. But best believe He Tian is damn well sure as fuck always gonna try his level best to pull Mo Guan Shan out of it just as he does to him. Every time.

“Guess you no longer like me then, huh.”

He Tian scoffs—almost laughs—at the absurdity of the mere idea. See? Didn’t he say Mo Guan Shan is quiet the comedian?

“Again, on the contrary, Little Mo.” He Tian turns on his side, pulls Mo Guan Shan impossibly closer against him so they’re chest to chest, and slots a leg in between Mo Guan Shan’s. In response, an arm curls tight around his back, a hand pressed between skin and cotton sheets, the other placed over He Tian’s chest, and it’s like slotting two puzzle pieces together. Perfectly. “I really, very much like you. Love you even.”

Mo Guan Shan sighs, tucks his face where He Tian’s neck and shoulder meets. He inhales, revelling in the smell of sex, sweat, and something distinctively He Tian—dark and dangerous and safe.

“Sap.” Because He Tian, Mo Guan Shan knows, for all his faults, never lies. “You said you like sad things.”

“No. I said I like you. Just you.” He Tian says. “I love you.”

The words are said with a tone of unquestionable certainty. Just like all the other times he’s said them and all the other times they will leave He Tian’s lips. Always. Without question.

In whatever state you are, I will always like, want, need, love, everything you.

Mo Guan Shan just hums, pressing his lips tenderly at He Tian’s pulse one, two, three times.

He Tian clutches at the palm resting over his heart. It’s all the answer he needs.

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #writing

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