#1.26

24.01.2026 💜 today's anthy!

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ao3

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Thoughts whirled through his mind in synch with the snow that would kill him. Memories and truths he'd tried to suppress.

Zhuo Yichen had always known love to be the first warm rays of springtime sunlight, melting the white snow sorrow into the beautiful pink blossoms of a cherry tree in bloom.

That was his love for Wen Xiao.

She was the melody at the edge of his heart; the soft smile that caught his breath; and the clever quip warming his cheek.

Zhuo Yichen had not known that this love was destined to own only half his heart. He had not known that he should guard himself against a love like the storm at sea.

Inescapable and unassailable.

But how did one guard against someone who would love the springtime in his heart with the same devotion as could be found in Zhuo Yichen himself? How did one protect oneself from a soul that was mate to itself?

His love for Zhao Yuanzhou was the tears wetting the earth into a new life, the blood that burned its brand over his heart like a hot ember pressed into his chest.

The ancient demon was the innuendo that caught Zhuo Yichen's tongue into a mortified trip; he was the lecherous monkey whose eyes sparked with faux guilelessness; most of all, he was the seamless dance over a calm pool of water transforming their every battle into poetry that promised one day to shred his heart into crimson mist.

The O.C. S1.E26 “The Strip”

Theresa: "I can't impose on Seth's parents forever."

“At 8:15 the subject appeared desperately tired, so I put him to bed. After two hours, I've discovered the following: His name is Joseph Caswell. He tells me he was a trail boss on a cattle ranch in the territory of Montana. His last moment of recollection was November 14th, 1880. He says he was riding herd when suddenly he blacked out. He awoke to find himself on the cot of my laboratory. He felt no sensations, and only in the last few moments did he seem to have any grasp of what has occurred. There's one disturbing point. There are the marks of a rope etched deeply into his neck. He has no explanation for this. And I have one other observation, hardly scientific. I don't like his looks. I don't like the eyes, or the face, or the expression. I get a feeling of disquiet. I - I get a feeling that I've taken a 19th-century primitive and placed him in a 20th-century jungle. And heaven help whoever gets in his way.” - Prof. Manion 

There might be one (ex) cop in particular that she has her mind on...