the question is the answer

White Spectre is a tiny little scrap of a thing I've been occasionally noodling at. It's a modern era artifact fiction story, in a setting where cultivation is known to have been a real historical phenomenon which has been lost in modern day. It's about a folklore student researching the local ghost story she grew up with, and uncovering the possibility that it may have its source in a real event.

Here's a piece of it that's going to be formatted as a WeChat conversation!

8:39 AM Zhang Qingxiu: hiii~ (≧▽≦)ﾉ~☆·ﾟ+。*ﾟ·.+ Zhang Qingxiu: it was so nice to meet you last night!! I’ll have to thank Yuling-jie for introducing us Chen Xuejie: Qingqing it’s too early for you to be this cheerful Chen Xuejie: I haven’t even finished my coffee yet Zhang Qingxiu: (o˘◡˘o) I’ve been awake for two hours already Chen Xuejie: you’re adorable Chen Xuejie: what is wrong with you Zhang Qingxiu: rude (◡‿◡✿) Chen Xuejie: I’m surprised you didn’t get bored Chen Xuejie: everyone always says I talk about my studies too much Zhang Qingxiu: omg but it was so interesting!! Zhang Qingxiu: I’d never even heard about those stories before Zhang Qingxiu: Xue-jiejie is so passionate and knowledgeable! \(☆ヮ☆)/ Chen Xuejie: brat Chen Xuejie: are you trying to flatter me Zhang Qingxiu: nooooo~ Zhang Qingxiu: why, is it working? Chen Xuejie: buy me boba and listen to me bitch about my thesis some more and I’ll let you know Zhang Qingxiu: it’s a date .:☆*:·'(*＾―＾*))) Zhang Qingxiu: are you free on Thursday?

i want a scar I don't actually have any excerpts I can give you at the moment—it is in progress, but it's currently in roughs, which I am certainly not going to put on the internet. I'm hoping to have it done sometime this year!

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

Tagged by @livingmeatloaf. Thank you, friend!!

And now, behold: a list of WIPs.

Caia and the Marquis

all night i'll riot with you

when your kisses climb

you're the only remedy

wanna feel a different kind of tension

'cause now there ain't no letting you go

put your love with your lips on mine

you win me every time

we would never be here again

The Disappearance of Xiao Xingchen

On the Trail of the White Spectre of Coffin Town (Chen Xuejie, 2026)

i want a scar that looks just like you

then tenderly watch it change

As you may probably be able to guess, the vast majority of this is Songxuexiao.

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang, Song Lan/Song Lan Rating: Explicit Words: 43,178

The Jin Exploration Corps has never been able to visit 31 Tianshan e, so when they find its skies unexpectedly clear, they jump at the chance. They send an away team to complete a scientific survey. What they discover is a technologically baffling alien society with a twenty-year history of mistrust for outsiders. When one of the aliens takes a shine to Xue Yang, he isn't expecting anything deeper than a two-day flirtation. Then he finds himself accidentally married to Xiao Xingchen's fiancé, and everything gets very, very complicated.

Read it here.

It's my @sxx-exchange fic for this year! For @nakimochiku. I once again went totally insane and wrote over forty thousand words. It's fine, who needs sleep or a social life anyway?

I had so much fun writing this. I've wanted to do a biological BDSM setting for ages, and I always love a good sci-fi. The consent dynamics are unhinged, the infidelity is recursive, the kink is unnegotiated, and for all that it's pretty lighthearted when you really get down to it. I just love these boys so much. Enjoy!

•••

“Xue Yang to the bridge,” crackles the intercom.

Xue Yang is so intently focused on the geological samples he’s been cataloguing that the sound of his name makes him jump like a startled cat. He jerks upright, knocking one of the sample boxes off the bench with his elbow, and has to lunge for it before it dumps three different planets’ worth of rock and dirt in an indeterminate jumble on the geolab floor. He manages, barely. “Shit,” he says, and then slaps the intercom button. “Acknowledged. Give me thirty seconds to put these rocks back where they belong.”

Thirty seconds later—probably, who’s counting—he has stored the samples, stripped off his coveralls, hurled his safety lenses back into the cupboard, and thrown himself into the nearest elevator. He arrives on the bridge a respectable three minutes after being summoned, which is pretty damn impressive for having legged it halfway across the ship.

As usual, Jin Guangyao has no respect for his efforts. “Thank you for joining us,” he says, in the passive-aggressive way that means you’re late and he wants you to know it. Rude. “Take a look at the viewscreen. The captain would like your assessment.”

Xue Yang manages to resist pulling a bitchy face for that total lack of context. He knows what the captain would like your assessment means: Jin Guangyao has an agenda, and he’s manoeuvred his brother into asking for Xue Yang’s opinion because he knows that Xue Yang can be counted on to back up whatever he wants. Since what Jin Guangyao wants is usually interesting, Xue Yang doesn’t mind playing along—but it would be less of a headache if he wasn’t going in totally blind. Obligingly, he takes a look at the viewscreen.

And then he blinks, and looks again. “This is the Tianshan system, isn’t it? Is that 31 Tianshan e?”

“You can see, I trust, why we wanted your thoughts,” Jin Guangyao says.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Xue Yang says, and just barely remembers not to swear out loud on the bridge in front of the captain.

The Jinlintai Exploration Corps has been aware of the Tianshan system star—and the dozen or so planets orbiting it—for around fifteen years now. Most of the system has been charted, and there has never been anything of particular interest about it to linger over. Ships passing through this sector of space do a basic scientific survey every few years; this is the first time the Sparks Amidst Snow itself has come out this way, and they had no reason to believe their trip here would uncover anything they haven’t already seen four or five times before.

The one planet in the system that has not been charted is 31 Tianshan e. It has an anomalously strong planetary magnetic field and unpredictable geomagnetic storms; every probe they’ve tried to send down has been torn apart, or completely lost contact with their communications array. They’ve never sent a shuttle with actual personnel. They’ve barely ever even been able to see the surface clearly. Most of the time the planet is wreathed in brilliant auroras: beautiful, but highly liable to interfere with their instruments.

But now Xue Yang is looking out the viewscreen at a perfectly clear atmosphere, unprecedentedly calm geomagnetic readings, and—he crosses to the console to double check the data—absolutely no indication that the storms will be starting up again anytime before the next four days.

“We need to get down there,” he says. A pressing sense of urgency swamps him without warning: who knows if they’ll ever get this chance again? “This might be our only shot to map the planet. We’ve never been able to get decent readings from it—there could be literally anything down there.”

Jin Zixuan, who has been quietly sitting by in the captain’s chair with his usual attitude of vaguely authoritative awkwardness, clears his throat. “Am I correct in understanding that if the storms start up again, we might not be able to get an away team safely back aboard ship?”

Xue Yang shrugs. “Probably,” he says, turning to address the captain directly. “But we don’t need to worry about that. Look at these readings.” He pulls his personal tablet from his belt and transfers over the console data with a gesture, then presents the screen to Jin Zixuan. The captain studies it seriously, his face set in an expression of polite incomprehension. Xue Yang blows out a sigh. “There’s nothing,” he explains. “As far out as our predictive models can reach. We’ve literally never seen the magnetic field this quiet.”

“I’ve been told the storms are unpredictable,” Jin Zixuan says, though he sounds cautiously prepared to be convinced. God, Xue Yang hates dealing with officers.

“Not that unpredictable,” he says.

“Xiongzhang,” Jin Guangyao cuts in. “If Xue Yang says we’ll be safe for a few days, we can trust his assessment. We should be fine to take an away team down for a short survey.”

Jin Zixuan hesitates for another moment, then seems to firm up his spine. “Very well,” he says. “But I want you back up here at the first sign of trouble. We can’t risk anyone being stranded on the planet.”

“Of course, xiongzhang.”

“Guangyao, I’m putting you in charge. Select your team as you best see fit. Dismissed.”

Jin Guangyao sweeps immediately into an immaculate bow, shooting Xue Yang a glare out of the corner of his eye until he follows suit. “Thank you,” he says. “We’ll leave within the hour.”

Xue Yang waits until the elevator doors have closed behind them before he says, “So you’re taking me with you.”

“Obviously,” Jin Guangyao says. “Pack your things and get down to the shuttle bay. Do not make me wait.”

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang, Song Lan/Song Lan Rating: Explicit Words: 9,894

“So, um,” Xingchen says, fighting valiantly to keep his voice casual. “How long has it been?” “Like three weeks,” Xue Yang says. “Two weeks, five days,” Zichen says, near-simultaneously. Xiao Xingchen breaks up arguments, learns his roommates are dating, finds out they do actually know how to be nice to each other, uncovers a voyeurism kink, creates his own problems, and falls in love (not necessarily in that order).

Read it here.

The concept for this story originally belonged to my pal @melodydrifts, but they knew they weren't going to pick it up again. Instead, they released it to me! It was meant to be under 5k. Go figure. Why do I even bother making estimates anymore? The world may never know.

Hope you like it!

•••

“Do you have to stick your feet under my legs?” Zichen snaps.

Xingchen comes back into the living room just in time to see Xue Yang, on the other end of the couch, worming his way down onto his back and forcing his feet, ankles, and the lower half of his calves under Zichen’s thighs all at once. “Fuck off, my feet are cold.”

Zichen makes a disgusted face; it’s so priggish that Xingchen almost breaks into giggles. “I don’t want your dirty socks all over me,” he says. “Put your slippers on if you’re that cold.”

“Zichen, Yang’er, please stop fighting,” Xingchen says. He sets the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table and turns to face them properly; he can’t stop the smile from slipping out. He likes them both so much. “Let’s just enjoy the movie.”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “Tell him to stop being such a killjoy, then.”

“Tell him to stop being so obnoxious,” Zichen returns.

“Do I need to sit between you?” Xingchen says. Normally he sprawls on the floor, flopped across spare cushions and bundled up in blankets, but he’s willing to sit on the couch if that’s what it takes to get them to leave each other alone.

But the threat to their usual routine does the trick. “No,” Xue Yang grumbles, and withdraws his feet reluctantly from under Zichen’s legs. Zichen heaves an unsubtle sigh of relief, rearranging himself comfortably on the couch; satisfied, Xingchen lies down, and they start the movie.

Thursday movie nights have been a tradition of theirs since three months after Xingchen convinced Xue Yang to move in with them. It had been his idea: a way to spend some time together as roommates, to bond with each other and—hopefully—curb the constant arguments between Zichen and Xue Yang. It hasn’t particularly worked, but two years on they both keep faithfully showing up for movie nights anyway, bickering and all, so Xingchen will count that as some sort of win. He’s happy just spending time with them, no matter how much they fight.

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang, Song Lan/Song Lan Rating: Explicit Words: 20,696

A talismanic accident brings Song Lan's future self seven years back in time to the present. This would be a complicated enough situation to resolve all on its own, but then his older self reveals that he's in a relationship with both Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang, and Song Lan's whole world is thrown into a tailspin. The idea of dating Xingchen makes sense, even if Song Lan can't quite believe he'd truly be so lucky. Xue Yang is a whole other problem.

Read it here.

Another story that has been haunting me and my planning documents for over three fucking years, courtesy of @starknjarvis27 and a long-ago poll about which character would be least likely to find himself in a selfcest scenario. Many people voted for Song Lan. Obviously I disagreed.

Written for the @sxx-love-week's prompt "time travel." Let us all politely pretend that I'm not three days late to my own event.

•••

The first time the key slots into the lock, Song Lan doesn’t think anything of it. Yes, it’s a little sooner than he was expecting Xingchen back—only early afternoon, and he had said this morning that he wanted to stop by at the gym to get in a few rounds of sparring after his meditation class finished—but that isn’t anything unusual. Plans change; Song Lan has no reason to believe that the doorknob turning is anything other than his housemate coming home.

Except, for some reason, the doorknob doesn’t turn. Instead the key rattles in the lock, pauses, and withdraws. And then it slides in again, and again cannot seem to open the door.

That’s when he starts getting worried. He slips the bookmark into his book, sets it down on the coffee table, and gets to his feet. “Xingchen?” he calls, walking out into the hallway. “Is everything alright?”

There is no answer. This time when the key fails to turn, there is a sense of desperation in the way it grinds against the lock. His heart suddenly pounding in his throat, Song Lan picks up his pace to the door, unlocking it and reaching for the knob. If something is wrong, if Xingchen is hurt, and that’s why he can’t get the door unlocked—or maybe it’s someone trying to trick him, to get him to open it for them—but Fuxue is on the rack in the entryway, and his sword can be in his hand in under two seconds if there’s trouble—

The door bursts open, and instinctively Song Lan takes half a step back. “What’s going on? Are you okay—” he begins, but then his voice just dies in his throat: because, standing on his doorstep, holding a house key and swaying gently with exhaustion, is another Song Lan staring back at him in just as much shock as he feels.

They’re not a perfect mirror to each other. Where Song Lan is in joggers and a t-shirt, clothes for a quiet Saturday at home, the duplicate is kitted out for a night-hunt, in combat boots, a tactical vest, and the same kind of practical clothing Song Lan himself wears when he expects to be fighting a yaoguai. His hair is drawn back in an efficient french braid; even then, it falls further down his spine than Song Lan’s, which is only just long enough to pull into a knot on the back of his head. He has a couple more earrings than Song Lan, and he’s wearing glasses. Most prominently, he also has a gash across his forehead, bleeding sluggishly down his temple and crusting into his hair.

“Oh,” says the other Song Lan. “No wonder the key didn’t work. I’m going to kill Wei Wuxian.”

That immediately raises at least half a dozen questions, but Song Lan doesn’t get the chance to ask them: his other self sags into the doorway, and some instinct compels him to catch him before he hits the ground. The other Song Lan staggers over the threshold, slumping heavily against his shoulder, and gives his arm a grateful squeeze.

“I knew I should have listened to Xue Yang about that fucking talisman,” he says deliriously, and promptly passes out.

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang Rating: Teen Words: 895

“Zichen and I are getting boba after class,” Xiao Xingchen says. “You should come.” Xue Yang squints at him suspiciously. Xingchen beams back, guileless. He is, as near as Xue Yang can tell, entirely sincere. “What do you want me crashing your date for?”

Read it here.

A quick little threadfic I did for a prompt from @brawlite when I first joined bsky, now on the archive! Have fun, it's really just cute.

•••

“Zichen and I are getting boba after class,” Xiao Xingchen says. “You should come.”

Xue Yang squints at him suspiciously. Xingchen beams back, guileless. He is, as near as Xue Yang can tell, entirely sincere. “What do you want me crashing your date for?”

Xingchen just laughs, a joyous, shimmering sound. Like always, it makes Xue Yang want to bite it right out of his mouth. “It’s not a date,” he says. “We’re just meeting after class. We might go back to his place to watch a movie after. Come with us?”

In the last week and a half, Xue Yang has had two midterms, an analysis paper, six hours of labs, and a three-hour evening lecture that ran over. Boba and whatever dumb movie Song Lan wants to watch sounds… really fucking great, actually.

“Sure. Yeah. Whatever,” he says. “Catch you after my lecture?”

Xingchen all but fucking sparkles at him. “Can’t wait!” he says, and waves over his shoulder as he starts down the hall. “I need to go, class is in five minutes.”

“Text your boyfriend I’m coming!” Xue Yang yells after him. He sure as hell doesn’t want to spring that on Song Lan without prior notice: that sounds like a good way to get socked in the jaw.

“Not my boyfriend!” Xingchen calls back cheerfully, and then he’s gone.

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang Rating: Explicit Words: 3,733

“Chengmei,” Song Lan says slowly, “do you want to suck me off?” “Fuck off, I never said that,” Xue Yang snaps. His fingers tighten in Song Lan’s shirt. Xingchen makes a little noise, surprised and then understanding; it goes ignored. “I’m not asking for shit. You don’t let people do that.” Xingchen and Song Lan ask Xue Yang to stay for dinner.

Read it here.

Surprise! Another fic from me this month, and it's more kink AU. This one is just a little episode, though in characteristic fashion it's also at least twice as long as I'd originally anticipated. Enjoy!

•••

“Fuck. Okay,” Xue Yang says, and sits back on Song Lan’s thighs. “I need to get going.”

For a moment Song Lan can’t quite wrap his head around the sentence. He’s still dazed from kissing, his lips flushed full and bitten to tenderness. Xue Yang is balanced so easily on his lap, his knees fitting around his legs with the exact right amount of pressure. Song Lan’s hands are folded over his hips, his thumbs resting just above his waistband; he keeps getting distracted by the warm brush of his skin.

And then his words sink in fully, and Song Lan’s heart drops into his gut.

The thing is, he’s right. Xue Yang has been here for two and a half days already: he came from the butcher shop at the end of his shift on Friday, got wrecked, stayed the night, went to work the next morning, came back, got wrecked again, stayed the night again, and has since spent most of the first day of his weekend lazing around in Song Lan and Xingchen’s bed, playing video games with Xingchen while Song Lan reads nearby, and climbing into one or the other of their laps to make out whenever he gets bored of what he’s doing. Now the afternoon sun is creeping towards the horizon, and Song Lan needs to make dinner. He has work in the morning, and Xingchen is starting a new contract tomorrow and will be busy for most of the day. Xue Yang does need to go. Unfortunately Song Lan doesn’t want him to.

It’s a conflict that’s been rearing its head with increasingly frequent regularity. One of these days it’s going to be a problem.

Xingchen has been sitting at the other end of the couch, shifting his focus back and forth between playing a video game and watching them indulgently. Now he pauses the game and sets the controller down. “You could always stay,” he says—even though he knows all the reasons that wouldn’t make sense just as well as Song Lan does. And there’s another one, too, going largely unspoken between them: they both try not to ask Xue Yang to stay too many nights in a row, in case he spooks or starts feeling tied down. So, really, Xingchen shouldn’t have said it; but Song Lan can’t bring himself to mind that he did. Without meaning to he tightens his grip on Xue Yang’s hips.

But, as usual, Xue Yang seems oblivious to the currents of emotion running between them. “I really can’t,” he says. “You’re busy tomorrow, and I’ve got shit to do on my day off. Seriously, I need to get groceries, my fridge is fucking sad.”

Song Lan shares a glance with Xingchen. Their kitchen is fully stocked—Song Lan walked over to Chinatown with Xue Yang yesterday on his way to work and stopped off at the supermarket there—and they’ve even started keeping some of his favourite candies on hand. If his kitchen is really in that bad a state—

“Stay for dinner, then,” Song Lan says. “It’s fine if—you don’t have to sleep over. But you could eat here.”

Xue Yang gives him a long, complicated, deeply skeptical look. “Is that a euphemism?”

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang Rating: Explicit Words: 4,278

Zichen—bless him—is too focused on driving to notice. “This is the last stop for almost forty minutes,” he says. “Are you sure you don’t need to go?” “Zichen,” Xingchen says, and has to swallow down a smile. He can hear it in his tone even so. “I didn’t say I don’t need to go. I said I don’t want to stop.”

Read it here.

A wonderful happy birthday to my best beloved @brawlite, who has done so much to encourage me to be my best and freakiest self. To express my love I brought you some filthy and incredibly self-indulgent smut, because I know you'll like it as much as I do and that's what fandom is for. So: here is some wet and messy t4t desperation kink porn. Hope you all enjoy!

•••

“We’re almost at the turnoff,” Zichen says. “Last chance to stop for a while.”

Xingchen hums, shifting experimentally in the passenger seat, and considers the question of taking a break. It’s been a while since they did, and he didn’t use the bathroom at the last rest stop they pulled into either: he’d been the one to pick up lunch while Xue Yang and Zichen went inside. They’ve long since left the highway behind, and now they’ll be turning off the four-lane county road for the winding rural drive that will take them, eventually, up the side of the mountain to Auntie Baoshan’s home. There’s a gas station coming up, but after that they won’t have another place to stop until they hit the next village, over half an hour away.

Xingchen shifts in his seat again and flexes his thighs. There’s been a mild, pleasant ache sitting in his bladder for a while now. It’s been close to three hours since his last bathroom break. He ought to tell Zichen to stop.

“Xue Yang? You good?” Zichen says.

Xue Yang has spent most of the trip so far sprawled in various improbable configurations all across the backseat. He’s been wearing his seatbelt exactly as long as he’s had to in order to avoid drawing any attention when they’re going through a town, and not a minute more. Zichen gave up after the first hour.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Xue Yang says. “I’ve only had like half my drink.” He picks it up, swirling it vigorously to demonstrate; the heavy sound of liquid and half-melted ice sloshes against the cup.

Oh, Xingchen thinks, giddy and joyful, and tilts his hips just so. The seam of his shorts rides up a little, grinding into his clit.

“Xingchen?”

He looks over at Zichen: beautiful Zichen, his eyes on the road, steady at the wheel and so conscientious. Xingchen loves him so much. He wants to wreck him so badly.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says. His voice is low, heady with promise. He can all but feel Xue Yang come to attention in the backseat: he knows what it means, when Xingchen talks like that.

Zichen—bless him—is too focused on driving to notice. “This is the last stop for almost forty minutes,” he says. “Are you sure you don’t need to go?”

“Zichen,” Xingchen says, and has to swallow down a smile. He can hear it in his tone even so. “I didn’t say I don’t need to go. I said I don’t want to stop.”

Xingchen sees it the moment it hits him: his eyes widen, and he nearly turns to stare at him before he wrenches his gaze back to the road. The car jerks, too, just a bit; he forces the steering wheel under control. “Oh, I—oh,” he says, still slightly wild around the eyes. A flush is spreading across his cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Xingchen only smiles. “Keep driving,” he says.