bbgulrot

Lush red petals; painting by Georgia O'Keeffe.



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  1. Public Bookmark 28

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    ‘I want you to kiss me, properly,’ he said, emboldened by their frank assessments of each other.

    Meng Yao was serious again suddenly. ‘No one can know.’

    The words were dangerous, thrilling. Nie Huaisang felt them in his stomach. They looked and tasted like the shade of blood. He nodded. ‘I won’t tell anybody.’

    ‘You promise me?’

    ‘I promise.’

    ‘And if I ever want something in return?’ Meng Yao’s tone became almost coy, something Nie Huaisang was more familiar with. ‘What then?’

    Language:
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    21 Jul 2021

  2. Rec 38

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    You are allowed to kneel; backs ramrod-straight, hands on thighs, eyes front.

     

    Jin Guangyao and his collaborators are imprisoned by the Nie as punishment. Kink meme fill.

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    21 Jul 2021

  3. Rec *

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    "Eh! 'Little brother,' what!" Wei WuXian says, mock-outraged. "I'm thirty-five!" (Sort of. He was born thirty-five years ago, anyway.) "You must be, what, twenty-five tops?"

    "Nooo," Xie Lian says, smiling. "I'm eight hundred years old."

    "You don't look a day over four hundred," Wei WuXian says. "Seriously, how old are you?"

    "Seriously, I'm eight hundred years old," Xie Lian tells him.

    --

    Lan WangJi had a lot of time to pray to different gods while Wei WuXian was dead. One of them was Hua Cheng.

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    14 Jul 2021

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

    He comes close, though.

    By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

    What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

    “Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

    Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.
     

    (Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

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    12 Jul 2021

  5. Rec 23

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    “Where have you traveled?” Nie Huaisang inquires, over dinner.

    “I am returning from the Nightless City,” says Hanguang-jun. “My intent was to return to the Cloud Recesses, but I’m hearing of fierce corpses in the north.”

    He has been taking a very long route home, then. Nie Huaisang considers the distances between the Cloud Recesses, the Nightless City, and here. If he’d wanted to, he could have been back a month ago.

    -

    On his way back from the Nightless City, Lan Wangji takes a detour through Qinghe and spends a night with Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian remains an entirely too metaphorical ghost between them.

    Language:
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    06 Jul 2021