I just want to thank you so much for your efforts in feeding us Ming Fan content. From deep within my heart, thank you very much. I hope you have a wonderful everything and that both sides of your pillows are cool and comfy.
this was such a sweet note! i’m revitalizing my energy to draw again so pls expect a resurgence of ming fan things when the fixation kicks back into gear
AU where it's one of those writing on skin soulmate AUs but it only applies to demons. Why? Why not.
Only demons and demonic cultivators can write on their skin and it shows up on their soulmate's skin and vice versa. And to be completely honest, most demons don't care about that like at all. The ones that care are usually royalty or nobles.
Anyway, this applies even if said demon is sealed. So when LBH wrote on his skin to remember something for later, MF found that same quickly written on his skin.
At first, MF was confused, he rarely wrote notes on himself, much less in such horrid calligraphy. He tried to wipe it but it didn't go away. He thinks maybe someone wrote scribbles on his arm while he slept as a prank with some qi infused ink.
That's annoying, but he doubts its permanent. Sure enough, the note was gone by midday. He dismissed it soon after, deeming it unimportant in his long list of tasks.
Then he finds another note. And then another. Eventually he even catches the note being written in real time. However, this time the note was a vent letter instead of the usual reminders. MF feels a little bad and writes back for the person to stay strong.
The other person stops writing and then replies to MF. They talk back and forth, mostly curiosity towards the other.
It's only the morning when MF suddenly sits up in bed and realizes that the writing thing is only possible for a demon. He looks himself in the mirror and asks if he's stupid, he decides that he is.
Throughout the day, he notices that LBH is a little more determined than usual, but he ignores it as he makes someone else run more laps for some minor slight towards their master.
At night, he finds another written note on his arm. He contemplates not answering since it's a demon and ultimately curiosity wins out. He talks to this supposed soulmate and they talk about how cruel their sect is and how his shixiong is so mean to him.
As the days go on and MF hears about this demon shixiong, he realizes something.
Some of the vocabulary sounds suspiciously like the Qing Jing disciples, which is to say way too ornate and stiff, and MF goes "ohhhh fuuuuuu I'm the evil shixiong"
And mind you, this doesn't narrow down the list AT ALL!!! He's been a bastard to everyone that wasn't NYY or SQQ. So he's stuck playing detective with his clues.
MF starts talking more to this stranger because how dare this foul demon sneak into this prestigious sect. And somewhere MF vaguely hears a voice say something about a "scenario pusher" but that's not important at the moment.
Weirdly enough, MF starts having stranger and stranger encounters with LBH.
He's not even doing anything specific and suddenly he'd fall into a lake that surely wasn't this close to the trail before. And somehow LBH always barely comes around the corner after he pulls himself out and takes off his outer robes to wring out the water.
Or the time he was knocked over by one of his lackeys and fell on his hands and knees even though he's always caught himself before. And of course LBH was coming around with NYY while MF was yelling at his posse before he managed to pick himself up.
Or maybe the night hunt he was hit with the spores of a specific plant with... Ahem, certain erotic effects. He managed to force the spores out with enough qi, but he was still flushed and slightly dazed when LBH found him on the floor. The little beast had to help him back, how embarrassing!
Or maybe when he was forced to run out in his sleeping robes to kill a demon that had snuck into the dorms, only to be ambushed by two other demons. And of course only LBH was around and managed to dispatch them without his help. MF wished he was killed instead.
No matter what scenario, LBH always looked fixated at him and then flustered before dropping to the floor and asking for punishment. Every time MF was too distracted or out of it to think of a proper punishment and gives him long, tedious tasks to keep LBH away from him.
And each time MF would end up speaking with his demon soulmate, they had a new story about how maybe his shixiong wasn't that bad. MF could feel himself withering away (he can see the obvious answer he just refuses to believe it's true).
Okay so me personally, I like my bisexual Ming Fan HC. And I think it's funny if MF isn't in the closet, it's just he doesn't want it to be Luo Binghe.
...
Okay MAYBE! He softens up a bit! But it's just because he's tired! It's not like he's starting to like the little beast! That's stupid! ...Oh no...
Anyway, during the abyss arc, MF is worried sick and really starts softening up to the idea of LBH. In some helpless hope, he writes encouraging messages to LBH, always places that are easily visible. He knows his master said that LBH died, but MF just hopes it's a lie.
MF waxes poetic, gives generic encouragement, says he's sorry, and tells LBH he hopes he's okay. It's not until years later when MF got a response that called him shixiong specifically. Cue a doomsday timer appearing over his head. MF feels like he fucked up somewhere but can't tell what fuck up doomed him.
Then out of nowhere Cang Qiong Mountain was invited by the new demonic emperor. And ohhhhh, it's Luo Binghe... Ming Fan is so cooked.
At some point LBH and MF end up alone and LBH starts flirting and pushing about the messages. And while MF can begrudgingly admit he doesn't hate LBH anymore and cares about him TO HIMSELF, he still refuses to admit that out loud for his own sanity.
LBH is endeared because he just thinks his shixiong is shy and not that MF will probably have an ACTUAL qi deviation if he spoke the words out loud. LBH thinks it's a tsundere situation (he's not entirely wrong), and MF is so conflicted with his own feelings that he wonders is killing LBH or himself might fix it
That risible feeling most certainly is the envy which burns in your chest, an ebullient volcano that simmers—and you cannot erupt now.
You watch as an imposter pilots the man you once admired above all others for his cruelty, his edge. He cherishes that beast, lavishes it with praise and goodwill, spoils him with the room you once thought was yours. That years of toil had earned.
But you never were a natural at this cultivation business, hm?
So do you truly deserve to feel slighted by a born genius like Luo Binghe?
Not quite. Poor little Ming Fan, a plain-looking sycophant whose master has no need for.
Replaced? Actually, one might call it an improvement. That beast is better than you in every way. For the sake of your shifu, doesn’t the wisest teacher deserve an eager student?
So why does he feel like he’s been choked to death?
The Proud Immortal Demon Way had been a story popular among his classmates. Stuck at an all boy’s boarding school with weekly inspections, the populace had been deprived of many things deemed most important. Like cute girls and nasty porn, apparently.
No one thought to check a boy’s phone for such things; and if they did, an absurdly long webnovel would get a glance at most. So the story was spread amongst the populace, and Zhao De picked it up out of boredom and a vague sense that he should know what was popular. His classmates often argued about who the best waifu was, or lauded Luo Binghe’s achievements to the skies. It was time for him to understand, because the idiots around him never spoke of anything else.
Zhao De read, and thought it was drivel.
Amusing drivel, but drivel nonetheless. He suspected the author was a virgin with how the sex was written; Luo Binghe was depicted as being talented and clever, but every scheme and plot made by any villains could be figured out within a sentence. The punishments he doled out lacked creativity and focused only on the kind of cruelty a butcher would show a slab of meat. The world itself was absurd, no rhyme or reason to fauna, flora or even politics.
Of all the characters laid out before him, Zhao De was most fond of Ming Fan.
Canon-fodder and clearly destined to die, Ming Fan was a classic bully. Mean and vindictive, petty and spoiled. And yet it was so amusing, watching him squander his power to perform petty punishments. One of the most recurring characters in the early chapters, he received little to no development. His IQ did not magically improve. His cruelty never grew sharp; every act was blunted, laughably so. Even at his cruelest, he was only following the orders of Shen Qingqiu.
In truth, Zhao De knew it was a stupid character to grow fond of. There was nothing redeeming about him; he was even described as bland at most.
And yet.
Ming Fan has freckles.
They are faint; a bare smudge of pigment, hardly visible to the eye. They are not an identifying feature, and so they were never described in the story. But they are there to be seen if one looks close enough.
Zhao De wants to bite them.
In the body of Shen Qingqiu, he could get away with it. Ming Fan would probably thank him for it. Ever since he woke up in this world, Zhao De has had Ming Fan tripping over himself to show off his questionable competence.
It’s… cute.
“Shizun? Did this disciple miss something?”
Zhao De smiles, and Ming Fan looks terrified and starstruck at the sight of it.
Shen Qingqiu had rarely smiled, and never for good reason. Such a waste. Smiles do not need to mean joy. A smile can be enough to make others question themselves. A smile can be as sharp as any knife, if used correctly.
“No,” Zhao De says, “it is exactly as it should be. Except for one thing.”
He taps his fan against the table.
Ming Fan hesitantly steps closer. Confused but unable to disobey, a dog too greedy for affection to ever think of it. Zhao De smiles, and Ming Fan kneels. Zhao De waits, until the boy shuffles closer and closer, each time appearing more and more distressed. Until they are so close that Ming Fan must resist fidgeting, or risk brushing against his beloved master.
Zhao De waits a moment longer, watching the other sweat. Until he reaches out, using the tip of his fan to tilt Ming Fan’s chin upwards. Forcing the other to look at him, eyes wide.
Lips parted.
“This master believes it is time for his head disciple to receive proper education,” he drawls, “if disciple Ming believes he has earned it. Has he earned it?”
Ming Fan opens his mouth; closes it; trembles, stuck. Uncertain of the right answer. Greedy for validation, but afraid of getting bit.
Zhao De removes the fan and points it towards the side room.
“Clean out the side room before the sun sets, unless you wish to sleep on the floor tonight,” he says. “It is now the room in which disciple Ming will sleep. Understood?”
For a moment, the boy forgets himself. A smile of pure joyous disbelief spreads across his face. It’s a little bit crooked and odd, far from perfect, and wide enough to show teeth. Zhao De idly considers pinching his cheeks, hard enough to leave marks. To squeeze until tears well up, just to see how long Ming Fan can keep the smile on his face.
“Truly?” Ming Fan breathes.
Zhao De rolls his eyes.
“Does this master have a habit of repeating himself?”
“N-No! Yes, no, yes, Shizun, this one will- right away?”
“Before this master changes his mind.”
Ming Fan scrambles to his feet, and nearly trips on the way out. The door closes, and Zhao De smiles.
The sun is low in the sky. The side room is filled with boxes that Zhao De has not bothered to sort through since he first woke up in this world.
If Ming Fan begs, he might let him borrow a blanket.
titsay
discoholicmusic
baratheonpilled
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
gummygunk
