Draft - Blog Posts

i am hungryyyyyyy. i drank protein but i still feel dizzy but i dont want to be fat either, anyway I want to finish drawing this but its my first time actually not being lazy.

I’m so heavily convinced that Christian brutal sniper has a New York accent or sounds like those stereotypical Old mafia boss leader who just says “Sweetheart” of some kind and waves this big cigars around so he looks cooler.

Mini-fic or Prologue - who knows?!

Okay, I have drafted a prologue for the Xiyao fic I threatened earlier today. My friend likes it, so I took a second glance at it, smoothed out a few wrinkles, and now I'm throwing it here.

I have no idea if this can function because I have yet to read the books, so I can't tell for certain if I will use it all - and if I do, it might not be the prologue so much as part of a chapter, all of that is written in the stars. But since Ao3 doesn't allow placeholders (nor should it) and I don't know when I get to write the whole thing (although that I will write it certain), I'll at least put this fragment of questionable permanence here for the time being. I will announce when I post the actual fic to Ao3.

No Bonds Can Hold Me

‘Maintain your own discipline. Train your body and your mind. Store your inner wisdom deeply.’

Second nature. All of this was second nature to a man who had lived by these rules his entire life. Now discipline eluded him, his mind refused to focus on what mattered, and his inner wisdom was torn to shreds. There was almost nothing left of the man he had been … before. And if there was nothing left, what was the point of him? ‘Do not act impulsively.’ That rule had saved his life several times over recently. To what end? He had broken so many others: ‘Do not grieve in excess. Do not bully the weak. Do not associate with evil.’

Am I the evil? The voice that existed in his thoughts only perforated his meagre attempt at meditation again, stripping away another layer of his strength.

Seclusion had done nothing to erase the guilt and the pain and the grief, to silence this voice. It lived in his heart as constantly as its beating. It hadn’t helped compose his mind, hadn’t let him accept that what was done was done. Every time he started out asking himself, ‘How could I have acted any differently?’ the question quickly degraded into the much simpler and much more destructive, ‘How could I?!’ The blood on his hands and clothes was long gone, but he could still feel it sticking to his skin any time his eyes closed, could smell its cloying scent, so much, so much of it.

‘Be gentle and content in adversity.’

Slowly, Lan Xichen opened his eyes. It was, indeed, done, and yet he knew there was one path not yet taken. ‘Do not act impulsively. Do not fall to evil.’ But was an act he had chewed over time and time again for more hours than he could count impulsive? Was saving a soul evil?

He hadn’t allowed himself those thoughts at first, but now that he did, he felt calmer. ‘Have a strong will and anything can be achieved.’ His path was laid out before him and he would walk it openly and with determination. He needed help, and he wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Beg for it, if he had to.

‘Don’t be unreasonable.’ What was one more rule broken anyway?

The voice in his head that kept repeating his name like a broken mantra could only be assuaged by returning it to the real world. It was his fault that it had been silenced, so it had to be him that did all he could to restore it. (‘Uphold the value of justice.’) And if that proved impossible, he should earnestly consider following it into oblivion, the way he had been prepared to.

Lan Xichen stepped out into the darkness. (‘Venturing out at night is prohibited.’) He had tried to silence the call that only he could hear, but now he welcomed it, let it guide his steps and fuel his spirit. Lan Xichen, Lan Xichen … ‘Yes,’ he thought, conscious of the cool air surrounding him and the light breeze rustling his robes, ‘I still hear you. I’m not grieving for you. I’m coming for you.’