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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    There is a low, thrumming danger in Lan Zhan’s voice, like the bass note of the qin, like the note weaved through the foundation of the Chord Assassination Technique, and Wei Ying does his best to suppress the shiver that it sends through him. “Aiya, no, don’t worry so much. Who could hurt me, Lan Zhan?”

    You, he thinks, helplessly. You could. His eyes sting with tears. His other self really was right when he called him pathetic.

    --

    What if the incense burner dreams weren't all dreams. What if, somewhere, there was a Wei Ying who had to live with that.

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    10 Jan 2022

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Afterwards, he’s not sure what makes him turn back around. Lan Zhan doesn’t make a sound, he’s sure of that, but Wei Ying hesitates all the same. When he turns back, Lan Zhan hasn’t moved — hands still resting on the qin, head still tilted up, as if he’s listening. But there are tears trickling down his face, enough that his jaw and chin are already dripping with them, his face awash with misery. Wei Ying goes cold. A different cold than before, the creeping cold of something going terribly, terribly wrong.

    “Lan Zhan?” he says, uselessly. “Lan Zhan, I didn’t —” Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to say it, all those things that had been brewing inside him for the last three days, ripening ready to drop rotten from his tongue? “Lan Zhan —”

    His voice breaks, his own tears starting to fall, as if he has any right to cry. He reaches for Lan Zhan, one hand on the fall of his sleeve, makes to draw it back, but Lan Zhan tilts into the touch. A single tear drops onto the lacquer of his qin. It’s the worst thing Wei Ying has ever seen. Lan Zhan shouldn’t cry, not now, not ever, and if he has to it should be — because he’s happy, or seen something particularly cute, not because Wei Ying has started screaming at him again. All the worst parts of the people who raised him, and none of shijie’s goodness, none of her gentleness. Perhaps — perhaps it is not too late to show that he has learnt that, too.

  2. Public Bookmark 15

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    A golden slice of light cutting through the night. A forbidden flash of pale limb glimpsed in passing. Impossible, surely, not to peek through a crack in the door to learn more of the secret transpiring within…

    Dangerous things, secrets, to hold and to happen upon. Ye Baiyi almost wished he’d kept walking.

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    09 Jan 2022

    Bookmarker's Notes

    They said goodbye in the middle of the road. Ye Baiyi cradled Xie’er’s tear-damp face in both hands and kissed him tenderly, lingering longer than he should.

    “Ask me to wait for you,” Xie’er whispered.

    Ye Baiyi knew, right then, that Xie’er would bend to Ye Baiyi’s every request; that Ye Baiyi fulfilled the same deference to power and desperation for acceptance Xie’er craved from Zhao Jing. He merely filled the gap in Xie’er’s starved needs: for the barest acknowledgement, for his warped love. For a father figure. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in, nor the most flattering.

    But Ye Baiyi wanted to offer something none the less. Something different, something solid, something real.

    “No,” He said.

    Xie’er slipped out of his hands and collapsed onto the ground, clutching pitifully at Ye Baiyi’s hems. A puppet with no strings.

    “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

    Ye Baiyi knelt before him. “No,” he said again, softly, gently. “You’re worth so much more than waiting around for someone who expects you to.”

    Xie’er looked at him with faraway eyes. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. Fresh tears brimmed and fell.

    “You make your own choice. I’ll pass through again when it’s all done. If you’re here, you’re here. For you. Okay?”

    Xie’er nodded once.

    Ye Baiyi stood, and turned, and walked away. It took everything in his power not to look back.

  3. Public Bookmark 4

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    Xue Yang wakes up shaking in Xiao Xingchen's arms. He doesn't think too much of it. Needless to say, Xiao Xingchen doesn't share his sentiment. They both try to come to terms with what happened, and Xue Xang might need to face something he's not entirely ready for; his own emotions.

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    09 Jan 2022

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Something pulls on his wrist and Xiao Xingchen unceremoniously stumbles forward. The stranger has surprising strength despite being smaller than Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen has felt his ribs jutting out under his scarred skin, giving away a past of malnourishment.

    “Why…,” The stranger whispers, betrayed.

    “You don’t want to come back?!” He is not trying to keep up the pretence of carefreeness now.

    “Is it something I did?!” Xiao Xingchen’s Little friend raises his voice and Xiao Xingchen feels the situation is, once again, quickly spiralling out of his control.

    Grasping both Xiao Xingchen’s hands, the stranger’s breath brushes against Xiao Xingchen’s face, his voice louder. He must be speaking directly into Xiao Xingchen’s face as if Xiao Xingchen could look back at him.

    “I don’t fucking know what happened last night but, listen, whatever it was it wasn’t your fault, Daozhang! You,” – a depreciative, forced laugh – “You already know there’s nothing that’s not fucked up about me and still you’d blame yourself?! An old friend left you then so be it, it wasn’t your fault either!”

    “Little blind won’t shut up about how I hurt you and I fucking know I did but I don’t- I didn’t-“

    There’s a whoosh of air, and next Xiao Xingchen feels the stranger’s hair brushing against his thumbs. Is he… bowing to him?

    “Just tell me,” the stranger hisses through his teeth. “Tell me what the fuck happened and I will take it back. So we can return to the point before whatever-fucking-happened happened, okay?”

  4. Public Bookmark 26

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    Dōmeki was so warm. Everywhere his skin touched Watanuki’s, heat bloomed. Warmth as a concept hadn’t existed for Watanuki for a long time. The shop was always cold inside, cut off from the sun as it was, and even when Maru and Moro invariably crawled into his bed at night, he was always freezing. They didn’t have souls, after all. There was nothing inside of them to generate it.

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    02 Jan 2022

    Bookmarker's Notes

    The rhythm of their bodies meeting, simple and slow, was a comfort to Watanuki in more ways than one. It drew soft gasps from his lips, bled warmth into his fingertips, anchored him to this place, this time, in a way that even the magic that maintained the shop’s existence was unable to. Dōmeki, warm and pure. Strong and fearless and utterly undeserving of the hardships he had shouldered on Watanuki’s behalf.

    Watanuki bit his lip, an unexpected pang of affection blooming in his chest. “Shizuka…”

    Dōmeki froze, looking up at Watanuki with brows knit in confusion. “You’ve never called me that before.”

    “Say mine.”

    “Wata—”

    “No.” Watanuki pressed a finger to Dōmeki’s lips, silencing him. “Not that one.”

    “Kimi...hiro.”

    Watanuki sighed, tightening his grip on Dōmeki as the two of them melted together, hopelessly entangled in one another. The rock of Dōmeki’s hips. The soft buzz of pleasure that slowly grew within Watanuki’s core. The all-encompassing warmth of Dōmeki, burning hotter everywhere their skin met. The strength of his arms, cradling Watanuki’s slender form so effortlessly. The acute loss of himself as a single entity as the two of them became something greater, something complete. They no longer shared just a single eye. It was everything, everything.

    “Shizuka…”

    “Kimihiro.”

  5. Public Bookmark 30

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    Zhao Zhuliu, once the feared Core-Melting Hand and now a rogue cultivator, finds Mo Xuanyu in the woods on a winter's night that changes both their lives for the better.

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    31 Dec 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Please, Zhao-gege, I can take it.” It’s the second time tonight he’s said those words. The context makes all the difference.

    And Zhao Zhuliu wants him too much to heed any wiser part of him that might deny them.

    So he removes his hand and takes him slowly, inch by inch, watches with pleasure as he writhes. Mo Xuanyu rakes his own chest, leaving little pink lines on the flushed skin. He pinches one brown nipple, twists hard – Zhao Zhuliu will remember that, will remember that he likes that – and comes with a sharp, tearing little gasp.

    Zhao Zhuliu can’t help himself. He leans in harder, into the yielding softness of Mo Xuanyu, and growls.

    “Oh, fuck,” Mo Xuanyu whispers, raggedly, over and over. Zhao Zhuliu rides him through it, never too hard, never too deep. It’s an exercise in control, and he excels. “Oh, fuck,” Mo Xuanyu says again. “Are you– are you going to– in me?”

    He is. It’s a small crack in that control. He’s capable of stopping himself. He’s capable of stopping at any moment. He doesn’t stop, because Mo Xuanyu doesn’t want him to. The rush, the relief, hits him bright and blade-sharp and in that crack in his control he finds himself bent over Mo Xuanyu again, and kissing his open, eager mouth. Kissing him, and meaning it in a way he has not meant it in… perhaps he has not ever meant it like this. He cannot look too closely at what this is.

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