#lactiflcra

this wasn’t the first time there had been close contact between the two of them, really, but perhaps it was the first time that guangyao had not been expecting it, that it hadn’t been in some way predetermined: in fact, he had almost had been snuck up on! almost, because before hands began to trail over the robes that he was adorned in, he had been able to straighten his back from where he leaned forward, reading a mandate, and order–who knows. it was difficult to tell what was brought before him now, tasked always with cleaning up, with caring for things:

but the exhale from his parted lips was slightly breathy, the sensation of thumbs digging in (with muted aggression as everything xue yang did would often have around its periphery) near shoulderblades, pushing against tense muscles that ground under the manipulation. one hand reached over to draw the length of raven-hued hair to allow the obstructions to be minimal before trailing up the arm that was attached to a gripping hand.

❛ there’s no candy left for you, xue yang, ❟ though as he offered a smile, it was revealed the final honeyed loquat candy lingered in his own mouth, lulled about behind his teeth with an idle tongue. ❛ unless you’re so stalwart in wanting a reward that you would pursue this one. ❟ held between his lips for a moment, before disappearing back, clicking against tongue and teeth in a pensive mien.

xue yang wasn’t the type to do anything without desiring something in return, after all.

    𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐀𝐎 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏. so stoic and walled off, but xue yang knew better. no one knew him better than xue yang  ( not even THE ESTEEMED ZEWU-JUN knew lianfang-jun the way that xue yang knew him! ).  he digs his fingers into his shoulders, hums softly as he tries to get him too relax, but he has a feeling his hands are just a little bit too rough for those delicate shoulders. 

    he could easily hurt guangyao, press into his shoulders and make him collapse, punch him in the side of the head and let him fall, but he doesn’t, and he won’t. right now, what he wants is a reward for his good deed. 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘! he took time out of his day to humor this sect leader, and now what he wants is a reward for his troubles! of course, he could’ve just come in and asked guangyao for candy, but that’s too on the nose and STRAIGHTFORWARD. he didn’t want guangyao knowing his intentions, but they were already deduced before xue yang could even finish his massage

    he frowns, plops himself to sit on guangyao’s desk as he glares at him.    ❛   what do you mean there’s no candy?  ❜     he nearly growls, but then he hears it, he sees it—hidden behind the sect leader’s teeth, honeyed candy, no doubt SWEET AND TANGY under guangyao’s tongue.

—Mo Xuanyu meme / @lactiflcra / accepting

               ❝ you failed me. ❞

            Wide, doe eyes fill with fear, his fragile heart sinking. In this moment, there is nothing more horrifying to Mo Xuanyu than disappointing his dear older brother, someone whom had welcomed him and shown him so much kindness. He lowers his eyes, suddenly so ashamed of himself. He needs to do better, be better, repay his brother’s kindness with success. If he cannot do that, then his aunt is right, he is disgusting and pointless.

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE STARTERS  —  x.

HE REGARDS THE MAN WITH SCRUTINIZING EYES,  searching,  but not accusatory.  there’s a strange quality to him,  a hollowness both solid and muffled,  sanded down into something unrecognizable to who it once was.  xingchen finds his words familiar,  despite what little he’d been taught about the world,  and what little he’s discovered about mortality in his brief stay.  even the most remarkable lives are eventually reduced to nothing but vague impressions and whispered stories,  single names in an endlessly updating ledger.  

his voice is as devoid of judgement as it ever is,  tinted with an open curiosity and a genuine desire to understand.  

     Had he been a lesser man, those words would’ve resulted in a sharp intake of breath, in something akin to a pained hiss. They stung, those damnable seven words. They burned a part of his heart he’d tried to convince himself had died long ago. Still, Nie Mingjue recoiled away from his youngest sworn brother, a harsh glare cast to him as the taller of the two moved to the window in the far corner of the room. He’d all but shot from his seat to put distance between the two of them, his cup shattering to the floor in his rush, wine staining the rug.

     Alcohol had clearly been a mistake. It brought thoughts and memories to the surface of minds that were better left forgotten. Made him recall all those moments between the two of them, the smiles and laughs, the good times. The good times were gone, he forcefully reminded himself. Long, long gone, as dead as the tyrant that had once deluded himself into thinking he could rule their world.

     Pacing had always made Mingjue feel better, so that was what he turned to now - following the line of the back wall, occasionally glancing out the window to the gardens, or back to Jin Guangyao, still seated at the low table.

     This would have been so much simpler had he still been Meng Yao. Had he not been caught with a sword through that captain’s chest. Had he not been sent away. How stupid Nie Mingjue felt now! For casting him aside - for trusting him to begin with. Some piece of him knew that the war would not have been so easily won, had events gone differently, but another refused to accept it. That thought only brought on others, about how weak he actually was. About how, in the end, he just wasn’t good enough. For anyone, and certainly not Jin Guangyao.

     He doesn’t even realize he’d been staring, glaring, at Guangyao for a few minutes, until he notices his steps had stilled. What he needed to say stuck in his throat - forgiveness, maybe, but maybe also another dose of vitriol that would disappoint their second sworn brother. After another beat of silence, he settles on;

Of all his crimes, this was perhaps the greatest injustice of them all! The words Jin Guangyao spoke against him, though they held razor-sharp blades and deadly daggers, they were more polite than what he receives half the time. Wei Wuxian gradually got used to the flying insults and baseless accusation all thrown at him, so now he could not help but felt an eerie chill up his spine when Jin Guangyao used words so politely. ❝Lianfang-Zun, uh, first, I feel really uncomfortable when you address me so politely like that. Maybe you can cuss a bit. Add more flavour to your speech. And secondly, I know I’m more useful alive, but how can you ensure you would be able to make me a slave to your accursed schemes?❞ He turns his gaze from the ceiling to the short man and instead focuses on the golden petals that adorned his robes. A golden peony rested amidst a bed of fine silk, yet what Wei Wuxian sees is innocence tainted with blood and corruption.

" let's clean you up and get you too bed. "

    𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘, and xue yang is surprised that jin guangyao hasn’t thrown him to a servant already to deal with him. they spent the entire day brushing out xue yang’s hair with xue yang crying and screaming, kicking his feet and stirring up the dirt as lianfang-zun took the time to try and unknot his hair. AFTER THE SUN HAD FINALLY SET and xue yang had no more tears, lianfang-zun has mentioned cutting his hair. another few hours of xue yang running away from the shears ate up lianfang-zun’s day that could’ve been productive with paperwork and correspondence, and yet he was still here trying to 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒚 𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒍.

    hours later and lianfang-zun had CONVINCED xue yang to cut off his hair, gentle as he talked him through every snip of the shears. xue yang had cried after seeing his hair on the ground--shorter and in tatters. he feels lianfang-zun’s gentle hands coaxing him, and xue yang looks up at him with big eyes. if he had been just a little bit younger and free from sin, would lianfang-zun believe that he was just 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒?

big mood ^2

    𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘. even laying under the shade and opening the collar of his robes did nothing to calm xue yang’s body. his body was itchy and crawling, irritable. nothing boded well for anyone if THE ESTEEMED GUEST OF LANLING JIN was irritable and snippy, snapping at any fingers that dare come too close to him--feral. 

    he’d already done everything he could to cool off, even stealing a maiden’s fan to give himself some wind, but even the gusts were laced with hot air and dry fire. 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑯𝑶𝑻!!

    finally having enough of the outdoors, xue yang made his way into lianfang-jun’s office. no one really comes in here except for the two of them  ( and the others of the venerated trio, under jin guangyao’s supervision ).  xue yang finds jin guangyao already in there, probably doing paperwork or correspondence. 𝐗𝐔𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄. that’s not his lifestyle or duty.

    his job is to recreate an evil piece of magic and test it, but he’s still researching some other books and methods, still testing out on corpses, and right now, he’s fresh out! so he’s waiting for some NEW CORPSES to crop up before he starts up his experiments again. 

    pretending like he’s perusing the bookshelves, xue yang’s lithe fingers poke at book spines and rustle the bamboo slates, as if he’s looking for something, but what he’s looking for isn’t here. he beelines to THE CANDY JAR on jin guangyao’s desk, slipping his hand inside and frowning.

    𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑻𝒀!