SVSSS May Be From Shen Qinqiu's Narrative Point Of View But It Is In Fact, The Luo Binghe Book, As He

it's you!

I don't know bingbong, let's ask the destroyed roomba

Updated: 4/8/20 Best MDZS/CQL Time Travel Fanfictions

 Wait, What? AKA, that time sixteen-year-old Wei WuXian showed up at Cloud Recesses, took one look at Lan WangJi and declared, “That’s my future husband!” … and Lan WangJi said, “Mm”.

The Sun Is Haunted In another universe, Wen Ruohan had a child called Wen Chao, who grew up to be cowardly, petty and basically an idiot. In this universe, however, Wen Ruohan had a child called Wen Wuxian, who grew up to be courageous, cunning and basically a genius.

if you can’t beat them, recruit them Wei Wuxian uses a powerful array to go back in time and builds a secret squad to prevent the misfortunes of the future.

-

Immortal!WWX Series

Getting Jet Lag From Time Travelling Lan Qiren stared in mute horror at the letter in his hands. The world’s most dangerous demonic cultivator and immortal leader of the great Yiling Wei Sect wanted Lan Wangji’s hand in marriage. Lan Zhan, his youngest nephew, his most promising disciple, a quiet boy of barely twelve.

An Unusual Betrothal Desparate and out of options, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji turn to time travel. It is just their luck that Wei Wuxian misplaces a zero somewhere in the time traveling array and ends up in a time before the cultivation existed. Sequel to “Getting Jet Lag From Time Travelling” 

-

Seguir leyendo

every night

fortunately i have stupid sexy little bitch disease so i never understand anything you guys are talking about

xie lian + hua cheng icons

like or reblog if you use or save

that other post about how miserable the OG Luo Binghe truly is got me thinking (again) about how incredible it is that the Bingge vs. Bingmei extra is actually part of the canon. like! that is SUCH a classic fanfic setup, and the author just went ahead and included it! and that is WILD to me because –

Now that the original Luo Binghe has been made aware of the existence of SVSSS, of the alternate universe where he is happy and loved –  he canonically knows this and cannot unknow it! And that means there is no good outcome for OG Luo Binghe after this.

Luo Binghe has an obsessive enough personality that he won’t be able to just… let it go. That’s not in his nature. He’s had his face shoved in the fact that his current life doesn’t make him happy, that he has no one who truly loves him the way his alternate self is loved. And even if he has Xin Mo and a thousand realities open to him, there’s just no winning combination for him.

The original Shen Jiu, even if he’s still alive or could be revived, could never be a loving husband to him, for so many reasons.

The original Shen Yuan, even if he could be located in another world, would never be able to fulfill the same role because he hasn’t gone through the same journey as a person.

And the only person in which these two halves are combined - the actual, Shen Qingqiu Who Was Shen Yuan, can never be a loving husband to him because he’s already happily married, and because OG LBH is too frightening/traumatic for him. There’s no good options!

He’s doomed to live out his whole life knowing that there’s another him that is loved and happy, and he will never be loved and happy in that way, and there’s nothing he can do to change that. It’s a situation which is set up to just not have any possibility for a happy ending, a lot like the Yue Qingyuan/Shen Jiu situation, and man, MXTX is just so good at those.

And it’s canon.

Every single day I'm grateful for that time I stumbled on the SVSSS headcanon that while Bingqiu is considered highkey confusing and lowkey cringe in the demon realm, Moshang is known as the Power Couple™. They're the demonic love story. The 'It Couple'.

Just generations of demons sighing over the dramatic and bloody love story of the Northern King and his right hand man plus spymaster, yearning for a love story filled with such glorious violence and betrayal! A classic childhood friends to lovers narrative filled with ups and downs and copious murder and gore! Love at first sight! The story of the loyal spy who rose up the ranks of the brutal Northern Court, culling his competition while providing vital intel to his liege, all the while infiltrating the most powerful cultivation sect in the world and eventually even becoming a Peak Lord! The slow burn of all slow burns! All kinds of spicy complicated power imbalances! Sexy, unexpected age gaps! Years of heavy plot! Decades of passionate courting! The pinnacle of inter-species forbidden romance!The tale of a man who swore eternal loyalty after falling violently in love at the very first meeting, calling a mere Prince His King in his desire and determination to see his beloved's ascension to the throne that was his birthright, and the Demon Prince who was unexpectedly presented with fierce loyalty in a life that had until then been rife with treachery and grabbed it with both hands and never looked back!

...and there's Junshan and the weird human he keeps around. Somewhat interesting if you're into that teacher-student thing I guess. There were very few deaths. Some bland murders. The trial arc and the self destruct thing plus corpse hoarding was interesting but overall very vanilla. Unseasoned. Not even a proper decade of drama. Kinda boring. And Junshan's half human so they're like Walmart version inter-species romance. But whatever the Emperor's into I guess. His dad was kinda weird too but at least his relationship with that human woman had some kick to it. The new generation just doesn't appreciate a long drawn out painful romance tsk tsk...

Like infinitely grateful to whoever first spawned that headcanon. Never fails to make me laugh. Honestly the most hilarious thing I've ever seen in this fandom. Hope your pillow is always cold and you never stub your toe.

Second batch of bnha icons. Again, free to use, credit appreciated. Thank you guys for all the suggestions!

Here’s a story about changelings: 

Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. 

She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage.

Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. 

“Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. 

Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin.

“I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.”

“I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.”

“Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.”

Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine.

“We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…”

“Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.”

Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has.

“Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.”

Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project.

She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still.

“Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once.

Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.”

Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.  

They all live happily ever after.

*

Here’s another story: 

Seguir leyendo

Into the Abyss by esama Pixel art inspired by Esama's work, "Into the Abyss" where Shen Yuan is a feral (badass) hunter in the Endless Abyss.

the pussy flower and testicle grapes made me cackle so hard i had to draw them