moved !

[lq-archive]

moved notice !

this blog got terminated and just managed to get tumblr to restore it. 

still i’m archiving this blog and starting anew over @lanqin just because fresh starts are nice 🤍

[lq-archive]

no one: lwj on father’s fay:

[lq-archive]

evcryopeneye​: 

Life out here in the wild was incredible sometimes, such delicate things, could survive winters and storms. Every year. It all burst back into life. If she was truly aware of her own death, she might have found something profound in this. “Do you think….people can every really come back from a storm?”

❛ i can't be certain. ❜     in all honesty lán wàngjī could not give a proper response.  he could explain why the greenery around them vibrated and glowed with the spiritual energy from the deceased,  he could illustrate how the remnant energy manifested even after mortal bodies were long discomposed.  but could not make a prediction about the living.  after all,  his area of expertise revolved around death.    ❛ but it might be possible. ❜     he conceded with humility.  it had happened before,  perhaps the woman would see it happen with her own eyes too.

[lesbiandomesticity]

together we will create a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no holes punched into the walls so hard that the foundation rocks and cracks. our home will be gentle, it will be warm. i will keep you safe and you will keep me still. no fear, no hurt, no worry. we come from broken and twisted places but together we will build something whole and safe. we will curl around each other like a pair of quotation marks at night, warm and comforted. in the mornings, you’ll sing in the shower again. we will heal, and we will raise a family that doesn’t need to heal.

[lq-archive]

dreams-of-fate​: 

        “Take it from this old woman, we only own what we think we own until it’s taken away. Heaven, Hell, whatever else we lay claim on in this world.” Lips curved up into a sadness touched smile. Jin Yan had been around long enough to know.

even when what he'd originally meant wasn't fully understood and ultimately gotten lost,  lán wàngjī had not the heart to oppose or press any further questions on the matter.   anguish seemed to cloud the woman's words and kindness,  so he met the gesture likewise with a polite nod.      ❛ mn.  humans  are  evanescent. ❜  

[lq-archive]

saccharot​:

        of course ;  asking lan wangji to skip the formalities would be no less similar than asking some holier-than-thou sect leader to spare a manslaughterer.  fair enough,  he settles.  this is already going the way he’d pictured it.

        “ don’t have one. ”  even here,  in the presence of a criminal,  the man in white wants to be courteous                it’s more than xue yang could hope for,  almost a little flattering to a point he can’t hide what follows.  he croaks a laugh that’s been scratching at his throat since the jade spat his initial tone of displeasure,  & realizes this is his first lie.  but chéngměi is not a name he’s fond of :  its meaning & implications don’t align with who he is.  xuē chéngměi is a mere nobody who managed to replicate one of the yiling patriarch’s strongest inventions.  xuē yáng,  on the other hand,  is better known.  tastes like blood on the tongue of anyone who utters it.

        it’s that thought that drives him more resolute not to divulge it :  the mental image of the pure hánguāng-jūn dirtying himself on the blood of hundreds by spelling out a name is more appealing,  shamelessly so.  “ i guess it can’t be helped.  well then,  would you like to come up with one yourself? ”

❛ no. ❜   he answers once again,  dry and concise.  there is no resistance otherwise on lán wàngjī's behalf,  nonchalantly he would gladly give xuē yáng the satisfaction of being referred to only by such blood stained name.  it is a bit of a compliment even,  to be regarded as perfectly unsullied,  but in actuality lán wàngjī has made a habit out of bringing light to darkness,  death and chaos.  ​his figure always in white finds home next to one in black.  his very soul is deeply intimate with the demonic terror the likes of xuē yáng aspire to be.  

xuē yáng may have accomplished to gain merit of his own with his crimes,  but such is not a compliment and grants no respect or consideration from hánguāng-jūn.  he doesn't question the veracity of the lack of a courtesy names,  perhaps out of matching lacking interest.  many are the reasons why people reject their style names,  or choose not to use one at all.  however,   the act of giving a name is not to be taken lightly,  he  thinks.  giving names is reserved for parents and family,  should one be close with the new parents they may be bestowed with the honour of naming their child.  lán wàngjī is neither close to the man nor xuē yáng is a child.

❛ you should  ——  it's your name. ❜

[lq-archive]

the meaning of wangji’s name: forget wangji’s character song: no 🤍

[midsummernightmemes]

Reblog if you’re open to improvisational rp and just “winging it” with threads

Whether it’s the first interactions between the muses so the chemistry is still up in the air and it’s still unknown as to whether or not they’ll click before potential plotting, or the muses have too much minds of their own and run wild the moment you set them loose in a thread, plotting is hard and occasionally your pre-planned threads jump the track and go in totally different directions than anticipated thanks to the muses’ creative differences. Reblog this to let your rp partners know that you don’t mind simply jumping straight into in-character interactions and threads.

[lq-archive]

i want to write but I have approximately -10000 spoons so im just gonna say lwj loved his mom so much and she deserved better

[monagxrie]

Yall the RPC is a mess and we have got to start getting better about interacting with people. This whole ‘oh i’ll wait until they approach me’ mentality that so many of us have fallen into is literally going to be the death of the community before any update that staff wants to push out ever will. I can’t count on both hands the number of people I personally know who have left the RPC as a whole because of what they percieve as a lack of interest in their muses. I’ve been here for a decade and thing didn’t used to be this way, people could easily slide into the RPC and feel welcome.

It genuinely feels like as a whole we’ve gottens so caught up in the aesthetics of roleplaying that we’ve forgotten the purpose of the hobby. We reblog memes but there's a serious lack of actual interaction in the community.

Send asks of all sorts, it doesn’t matter if you think they’re dumb because there’s a really good chance that the mun is going to appreciate the interaction. Comment on headcanon posts because the mun will appreciate the feedback. Make dash commentaries on whatever sparks your muse’s interest.

We've got to get back to a spot where people feel like they're allowed to interact with other members of the hobby.

[lq-archive]

absntia​:

you  think  darkness  becomes  a  state  of  soul  ,                  

decomposition  of  memories  through  which  light  cannot  break  and  your  smile  is  iron  in  spherical  form  ,                  shattered  into  parts  which  do  not  remember  how  to  bend  ,                  you  are  the  spine  and  the  weight  of  a  shadow’s  hand  before  crimson  swallows  them  whole  .                  bleeding  .                  SHATTERED  GLASS  IN  WAKE  OF  WANTING  .                  you  wonder  how  many  times  you  need  wash  your  robes  before  they  run  clean  .                  ivory  white  in  the  shape  of  His  palms  ,                  in  the  curve  of  shuòyuè’s  hilt  ━━                  (  .  .  .  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙳𝙸𝙴  𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷  𝙼𝙴  )  .                  gladly  ,                  you  think  ,                  without  need  of  hesitation  .                  still  the  nights  leave  you  shivering  ,                  wide  eyed  with  darkened  rings  ,                  which  is  to  say  there  is  no  impending  crack  ;                  no  lightening  to  whether  the  storm  of  your  grief  ,                  only  the  waiting  ,                  only  the  bruise  .                  and  you  do  not  raise  hand  to  drink  the  tea  set  upon  table  ledge  .                  do  not  move  from  tethered  state  as  though  abiding  the  laws  you  have  carved  into  muscles  edge  could  bring  him  back  to  you  .    

❛  it  does  not  feel  as  such  ,  ❜                  you  whisper  .                    instead  it  is  a  wound  which  will  not  close  ,                  rot  as  close  to  bone  as  He  became  and  your  brothers  words  are  the  balm  through  which  it  bleeds  .                  *  𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐  ,                  you  think  ,                  𝚒𝚜  𝚗𝚘  𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎  𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗  𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎  .                  close  your  eyes  against  the  pain  of  it  and  beseech  a  force  which  does  not  listen  .                  ❛  wàngjī  .  .  .  ❜                  furrow  of  brows  against  cracked  voice  ,                  EMPTIED  HEART  ,                  ❛  all  those  years  ,                  how  did  you  bear  it?  ❜

the second twin jade feels his brother's pain as if it was his own because once it was.  

it is a bit of an overstatement to say lán wàngjī was capable of bearing with it.  back then, he could not bear it.  his body ached with grief and longing every time he breathed in,  every dawn when the sun rose and every twilight as the moon came out...  all his heart wanted was to give up and peacefully go,  reunite with his wèi yīng.  if not in body then in soul.  

but alas,  even with a heavy heart every morning he dragged such a mourning body out of bed and did his best to go on.  

❛ sīzhuī. ❜   hánguāng-jūn explains quietly after a moment of consideration  — of all reasons to stay alive,  the boy is undoubtedly the most paramount.  his own son,  in all but blood.  of course there is the rabbits in the meadows which need his care as well,  though lán wàngjī refrains from bringing them up as an example.  in any case,  back then,  lán wàngjī had to protect all the life his beloved he'd bestowed him with.  

that is the difference between them,   wèi wúxiàn and jīn guāngyáo.  even with all his faults wèi wúxiàn was never dishonest.  never took advantage of anyone nor manipulated anyone for his gain.  he gave and gave;  put the well being of others before himself until his very core was gone.  notwithstanding the reputation that followed the tales of the yílíng lǎozǔ,  in his eyes wèi wúxiàn's smile is enough to make flowers bloom.  he is lán wàngjī's sun,  necessary for life to exist.  

jīn guāngyáo on the other hand,  he'd brought nothing but looming death upon his brother.  death and deceit.  and greed.  and malice.   

fists close tightly on his lap, lips pursing firmly sealing them as if suppressing the thought.  the unfairness of situation,  lán wàngjī couldn't bear it either.  surely lán xīchén doesn't need to be told any of this.  it would be rubbing salt on an open wound.  the young sect leader doesn't need lán wàngjī's anger,  only his empathy. 

❛ if i hadn't...  it would have made brought immense anguish to my family.  sīzhuī,  uncle,  you...  so i pray xiōng zhǎng won't give up either. ❜

[lq-archive]

@graceflute​​ :  ♡ / ♫.

❛ for you  i know i'd even try to turn the tide. ❜    he would and he has.  oh,  he did try.  golden eyes avoid the other’s face. his confession is raw,  shameless some would say  ( and lán wàngjī couldn’t even argue ).  what else is left to hide now that wèi wúxiàn knows it all about the truth in lán wàngjī's very heart. 

[lq-archive]

battleguqin​:

                              ❝ there’s nothing to be scared of. ❞ @holdlight​​

Barefeet poked from the blanket and he glanced into the mixture and back to Hanguang-Jun his lips were pale and he shivered a little bit the blanket pulled up around him. He leaned forward and peered into the tea cup. “Are you sure ?” he asked softly. Everything else had failed to stay down, and while he was a excellent cultivator, proclaimed the best of his generation by Lan Qiren, Sizhui had still been poisoned. “Will it help ?” he managed to get out, his eyes were violet and the circles under were equally as stormy. Every movement was a study in weariness. 

Sizhui barely had the strength to pull himself into a sitting position. A hand reach out for the cup surprisingly steady. His golden core was fighting the ailment diligently but he was still tired, stiff and shaky. He had been brought into the Jingshi to be cared for because the level of illness had to be  monitored and of course being near his parents was what he wanted–he missed Jingyi though. Who would sneak and curl up with him, who would whisper stories to him.

He ignored the bitter smell of the brew and held his breath to take a drink. He coughed but it stayed down–thank the ancestors. “Did you find out how—it happened—?” he asked he wanted to know. He wanted to understand why a Tea House would attempt poisoning of a cultivator who had helped him.

both questions were answered with silent nods and quiet hums.  the sight was inevitably unnerving and even scary for lán wàngjī,  to see his ward — his son in such state.  no one with a heart could see their own child in pain and overtaken with sickness and not feel their chest heavy with guilt and ache.  he knew,  however,  lán sīzhuī was strong.  he was a fighter.  even as a small child with no training he'd endured much worse illness than this.  being poisoned was beyond unpleasant nonetheless.  

hánguāng-jūn sat by the edge of the bed,  relieved to see the tea he'd prepared for the young disciple seemed to at least be drinkable without upsetting his stomach.  that alone is a small victory.  

❛ wèi yīng is investigating. ❜   he answered truthfully.  there was little that could be done in terms of figuring out why,  considering the tea house owner would likely lie,  and they were most concerned with what was in the poison in order to treat it.  as far as they could tell it was nothing deathly,  and though a bigger dose could have been highly harmful they'd caught the junior before his situation was dire.  

his fingers rested on lán sīzhuī's forehead assessing the boy's temperature while continuing to speak softly,   ❛ we believe the poison was not meant for you but someone else. ❜   lán wàngjī shared their preliminary theory based on the man's first testimonies in an attempt to defend himself by claiming the incident to be...  well,  an accident.  accidental or not, hánguāng-jūn was unwilling to take any chances.  he had promised there was nothing to be scared of,  after all.  so making sure the young cultivator would for sure recover he gently held lán sīzhuī's wrist in his hand and pressing lightly two of his fingers to its inside he began the transferring of his own spiritual energy to his son. 

[lq-archive]

hello i have woken up and on this day i want to say lan wangji is the best dad ! good morning to his son ONLY !

[lq-archive]

@dreams-of-fate​ : ♡ / ♫.

silence is filled expectation for a response,  but words never came easily to lán wàngjī.  with blunt sincerity he blurts out then,  ❛ we don't own our heavens.  we only own our hell.❜

[lq-archive]

luanzangxgang​: 

It wasn’t hard to tell if there was contentment between the two as one would shift ever so slightly in bed and the other would adjust beside them. It was a beautiful acceptance that turned into a dance as fingers would brush through dark locks and new fingers would find their way inside the under robes of the one he laid upon. Either seemed to be so aware of one another that Wuxian had lost track of who was touching who and where. Therefore the words upon his ears came as a slight surprise and Wuxian had to lift his head to look at him. Before any form of reply would paint his lips, Wuxian’s hand lifted to brush those lips that spoke previously. He had to trace the curve of his lips with his finger, almost as if it would disappear forever were he not to. “Then stay here.” Was all he replied to him as he lifted himself to cover Wangji with his loose hair. His lips soon became lost against Wangji’s and he tasted the smile he gave him.

sated by wèi wúxiàn's touch,  the sweet taste of his lips,  his body relaxed and every one of his senses dissipated their guard.  every cell in his body,  every bit of his attention was under his beloved's spell no crafty tricks involved.  wèi wúxiàn's presence alone would suffice to intoxicate lán wàngjī's mind and overwhelm him with love.  in the intimacy of their home,  their bed,  it was safe to allow himself to indulge in it.   ❛ mn... ❜  wèi wúxiàn's lips coaxed a deep purring hum from his husband's throat while his arms closed tighter around the other's waist,  so mellow and enamored.  who could guess the ever so cold and prim hánguāng-jūn ​could be so soft? the most pressing question at the moment,  however,  would be...  where else could he possibly go? the hills hidden amongst clouds were his birth place,  these walls his house,  and by his destined one's side... his home.   ❛ i belong with my wèi yīng.❜   he breathed out against wèi wúxiàn's lips before his own could reunite with them,  the statement sealed as an eternal promise with a deep kiss.

[lq-archive]

@evcryopeneye​​ : ♡ / ♫.

❛ flowers growing on a hill,  dragonflies  and  daffodils. ❜   he points out quietly,  signaling to the younger cultivator where to pay attention to.  invisible to the naked untrained eye.  ❛ learn from us very much  —  look at us, but do not touch. ❜