Mental Hamster Wheels Go Brrr

Writing side blog. 18+ only, Minor DNF. Multifandom. Interactions from @otherlandshark

[sinnonym]

“Dearest, you’ll waste it like that. Come closer~”

For Tianyueary Day 6: Querencia - A place where you are your most authentic self, feel safe and at home or draw your strength from

Get it because he’s a vampire and he feeds on blood H a

[requindeterre]

Aaaaa I'm so glad you like my silly little words 🥺🧡 Link is here if anyone else wants to read. Mind the tags https://archiveofourown.org/works/49984336

[pendragonshoard]

Writing Commissions

Hey guys, so I just lost my job, so I'm opening commissions to keep myself and my cats fed until I can get a new one lined up!

• $20 per 1,000 words written

• Double for nsfw

Please no:

• Incest

• Underage nsfw

(I do not age up characters for nsfw either)

• Bestiality

• Rape/ non con

OCs are fine just be ready with an in depth description for me!

Dm me or shoot me an email at [email protected] if interested

Half payment upfront and half when the comm is completed, per PayPal invoice.

I allow 2 revision opportunities, one for major changes after the first draft is provided and one for minor tweaks when the final draft is provided

Please like/reblog if you can't help, it's really appreciated!

[ratbakes]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Shen Yuan wakes up in the body of some random servant in some random palace. Only- turns out that palace belongs to Luo Binghe, the one and only stallion protagonist of PIDW! Despite knowing he's little more than cannon fodder at this point, he still somehow keeps getting himself into trouble! How will he manage to survive in this unexpected new life he's woken up to?

A vampire Shen Yuan AU, based on some wonderful musings with a friend about the concept!

Rating: E

Ship: BinggeYuan

Chapters: 3/4

Realized I hadn't posted any of my fics on here yet, time to change that!

[tianyueary]

[jadedanddark]

I died but I came back exactly the same. You though, I came back and you were wrong. Did the fact of my dying really damage you that much? Was bringing me back worth what it cost you? Would it have been better to just leave me?

[writing-frenzy]

Beautiful Disaster AU

So, here I am, on a serious Shang Qinghua/Airplane bro binge because sometimes you just crave a thing and can't let go, and I ended up getting inspired by these two posts :) Link and Link So here I go.

Also, here is this poem that also inspired a thing and also gave the name for this AU~

`Beautiful Disaster~ By Nikita Gill If he tastes like the rainfall, Looks like a summer storm, Fights for you like a forest fire; he's a tornado of trouble. (And you need to hold on to him and never ever let him go.)

So yeah, I took a look at that, and thought it actually fit both Shen Jiu and SQH/Airplane well, if in different ways. (Shen Jiu the tornado and Airplane bro the forest fire, but oh, how SJ fights like lightening in a storm, ready to burn everything away, while SQH is tricky like the wind, saving most of his energy for when it really matters until you can't see anything past the wails and talismans.)

So yeah, watch me stumble into a scumplane with Ghost!Shen Jiu :3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It starts ever so simply, Shen Jiu watching as that fake is so happily accepted, all the other Peak Lords seeming to rejoice at having them there, even the disciples pleased and ever so willing to bark for the man wearing his face, the little beast practically panting after him every step he takes.

It disgusts him, makes him grind his teeth, makes him want to scream, shout, curse like he hasn't since he was just a desperate slave, how many visit his former home, his sanctuary now a cage of bamboo and frustration, rage, and bitterness. Watches how Peak Lord after Peak Lord visits, each charmed, some slowly, some in less than a second, guests of all types and titles leaving yet obviously wanting to stay.

All except for one.

"Ha-hahaaa, hello Peak Lord Shen, I'm here to deliver the order forms for the new training instruments and inkstones." The An Ding Peak Lord, Shang Qinghua laughs weakly, even as the fake narrows eyes at him over his favored fan. Shen Jiu glares, wishing he could rip it to shreds, throw it away, burn it so that it is no longer being defiled by this body snatcher.

"You may leave them with my disciples, Ming Fan or Binghe can take care of it." is the dismissive response of this other, lesser fake goods, even as Shen Jiu wants to scream.

"These are my duties; these are the responsibilities of a Peak Lord, you cannot hand them off to mere children, much less the beast." The real Shen QingQiu wants to howl, but it only comes out as whispered words through clenched teeth, the ghost not able to open his mouth for the anger choking him.

"Ah, about that my fellow Peak Lord, these contents are not for the eyes of disciples, I'll need your seal of approval on them as well." Shang Qinghua seems to wince, sounding rather apologetic, but it is this refusal that gains Shen Jiu's attention, actually surprised to hear someone being reasonable since the switch happened.

(The first time he's seen anyone actually refuse his cuckoo of a replacement.)

And is just in time to see the cold, cutting calculation the supposedly 'apologetic' man hides with his bowed head, before it is gone just as fast as he raises it.

It is the start of his interest in Shang Qinghua, that man he considered a rat in life, only to show just how clever he is after Shen Jiu died.

Watches how the man sneakily tests the fake, teas for cleansing snuck in here and there, talismans deceptively hidden in paintings, vases of flowers that detect malevolent, demonic energies.

And even with none of it being triped, the Fake able to somehow breeze past all these tests, Shang Qinghua still watches, guarded and suspicious, without ever letting his cuckoo even suspect it.

It is... gratifying, even if it is from that rat, to know someone still does not trust in what they see, that they too judge the fake and decide to actually question it. It is more than what his own disciples have done.

(It is more than what his Qi-ge has given, still ever so tolerant, ravished as he is for any crumbs, he can fucking get like the dogs they were.)

Changes only happen after what is apparently a disastrous conference, with intriguing, if terrifying secrets coming to light.

"Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky!"

"Peerless Cumber?!"

Hearing their words, it brings in new consideration for his circumstances, makes his already yin filled core seem to freeze at just what he is hearing.

Some kind of fate that forces you into another's dead body, chains one to follow it with little hope for change, even forcing a literary god from the sounds of it to be reborn into a human, never actually expecting their words to come to life, just trying to live as it were like any other storyteller from the streets.

(Remembers how any damage he does is just as quickly erased, as if it has never happened, as if there isn't a resentful ghost clawing at the walls, ready to destroy any in its way at the first chance it gets.)

Shang Qinghua, or Airplane as it were, visits more after that, plotting and planning with his bodysnatcher, who while he still hates, would be willing to gut if possible (but... can understand, so painfully understand being forced and chained, even if he was lucky enough his Masters were very much mortal at least).

But while there are no longer any suspicions in those eyes (the calculations are of course still there), they are instead replaced by a... mournful quality?

?

"Rest in Peace, Shen-Shixiong." is said in the middle of the night one day, when his fake has long since slept, the words like a whisper in the wind. In his mind's eye, he can smell the incense of sandalwood and jasmine, with an offering of melon seeds beside it...

...!

oh...

... Not once, not since he has been stuck in his home, has he heard his Shang-Shidi call the imposter Shixiong...

For that night, Shen Jiu stares at one of the pictures on the walls of his bamboo house, keen eyes seeing the subtle symbols for mourning on it, a subtle 9 easily hidden among the strokes if one was not a master like himself, the rage a quiet thing tonight as he thinks.

-

And then, one day, seemingly normal for all it is a quiet day at his peak, Shen Jiu finds that whatever was trapping him, caging him, chaining him to his bamboo house turned prison is gone.

He doesn't miss his chance, out the door before his mind can catch up, before he fully realizes he has been freed. It is only once he is off his mountain, out from that sect, away from everyone, that Shen Jiu realizes he has a choice.

He can feel it, he can feel his body even with the distance he is, knows exactly which direction to go if he wants to reclaim it. And he could, he could do so rather easily he can tell, whatever link between it and chained binding his imposter had gone...

...But why should he?

Why should he? Why should he go back to all those so willing to trade him for his knock off, why should he go back to people who will only be disappointed in the return of the 'old Shen-QingQiu' even if it is the true one.

Why should he debase himself to go crawling back to people in a body even more wrecked then his Qi-Deviation left it, all wanting something he is not and will never be?

(Go to see that panting, drooling Beast, to the desperate, stalking Brute, to that disappointing, clinging to scraps and fakes Brother Sect Leader?

To see those calculating, distrusting, mournful brown eyes? As weak as he is now? Not worthy to even be called Shixiong.)

Shen Jiu pauses, turning aways from where he can feel his body, where all those lies and expectations are, into a different direction, where death calls and the yin energy beacons any foolish or ambitious or both to answer.

He can feel it in his distant bones, trembling in his ghostly yin qi running through his spiritual body, his other choice.

The Gates of the City of Gu are about to open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note:

*Me looking at Airplane, his trust issues, his knowledge of just how fucked up his story could be, thinking of alllllll those wife plots and the trickery* No way this man didn't try a few ways to see if Shen QingQiu was possessed by something or another; not that he doubts the all knowing sword, but yeah, he doubts the fucking sword.

Also, if anyone were to find out that Airplane was technically the creator god, I headcanon people would assume he was a literary god who either gained too much power on accident or some other gods decided to fuck around for shits and giggles because they could.

Also, Shen Jiu would be smart enough to figure out about the system, even if he doesn't know exactly what it is, the concept he understands fucking terrifies him; no way would he go back into his body giving the choice, being so weak from without a cure and whatever the fuck the imposter did to it to where he can go back. He'll take his fucking chances.

(Besides... his Shidi like demons well enough, why not a Calamity?) :3

[requindeterre]

Yeah Yeah Yeah!! I love smart sneaky Airplane so so much, look at this little rat (affectionate). And ghost!Shen Jiu having someone who notices, someone who sees and mourns him after he’s gone. I’m laying on the floor floating away on my river of tears 😭🧡😭🧡😭🧡

[requindeterre]

YueLiu

The first time LQG hears YQY's laugh, his real laugh- not the bemused chuckled that YQY trots out to be polite, it makes LQG's ears go hot. It's loud in a way the man himself is not, coarse and pulled from very core of him into the light of the late autumn sun.The sound is not meant for him. LQG shouldn't be hearing this. Typically this back path down the mountain went mostly unused except by An Ding disciples and their occasion wagons of rare treasures not meant to be seen by the more fanciful peaks. Trinkets like that served little practical use nor did they strengthen one's cultivation so LQG paid them little mind. All in all, the path was one of the few places on the mountain where one could reasonably expect to hide away for a few hours with no one the wiser. Perhaps that was why YQY, letter in hand, had come to one of  the small clearings further down the path. Intruding on a private moment like this made LQG's chest feel tight. It felt...disrespectful to see such a placidly composed man braying with laughter, his head tipped forward between shoulders that shook with each breath. He wasn't supposed to see this. LQG retreated a step, intending to turn back and give the sect leader privacy. He must of come too close or called attention to himself in some way. YQY's head snapped up in LQG's direction and clapped a hand over his mouth the stifle the laughter already dying in his throat. Caught out and feeling...feeling, LQG made haste back up the mountain. Now that he's heard it, he can't unhear it. It haunts him in the months that follow. Such a painfully, awkwardly human sound to come from the calm lake at the head of the peak lords' table. Such a vibrantly uncommonly common sound from the tempered steel of a man greeting his disciples with a modest nod of his head. Regardless of where he lays his head at night, the unabashed laughter is LQG's constant companion. He dislikes it. It's annoying and distracting and he can't stop thinking about it. It interrupts his mediations and pops into his mind unbidden at the worst moments. He keeps setting out for one destination only to find himself skulking around Qiong Ding. Why is he here? LQG has never had much reason to visit and has even less of one now that he's trying to avoid the source of the sound. Winter is mostly spent away from the mountain trying to lose the sound in the pursuit of whatever beast or demon might offer enough of a challenge. Half of Spring is spent avoiding the barrage of messaging talismans, arrays, and weary disciples. Annoying. Even LQG can admit at this point that he's being unreasonable and he's had enough of twisting his brain around the issue. If it insists on being such a nuisance, he'll face it head on. Maybe all he needs is to hear once more -once more and meant for him hear- and he can finally stop thinking about it.

[requindeterre]

Bakery AU - QiJiu

Thinking about a modern au QiJiu where YQY opened a bakery/cafe out of an unconscious need to make sure SJ never went hungry again. Any time of day, there's always a pastry or a warm drink available because the thought of going back to their childhood hunger if everything falls out under them sometimes leaves YQY waking in a cold sweat. It's fine, they're both safe and well established in their careers but well, maybe a bit of SJ's survival instincts have rubbed off on him over the years

But also, YQY with his sleeves rolled up, up to his elbows in flour as he patiently works the dough for scones. He has an easier time working the dough than some of the younger staff members given his large hands and thickly muscled forearms.

All the while, SJ watches like a hawk from where he's artfully leaned against the service door. There are other places for him to be, like the law firm he's recently made partner at, but since this new flavor of scone was his idea, he should see it through.

The fact that YQY set aside a plate of small sweets like thumbprint jam cookies, bite-sized honey cakes, and a cup of milk pudding is secondary and complemented by the view.

Some habits from growing up the way they did never left. The instability of hopping back and forth between the streets and foster homes where they weren't children but income left its mark as certainly as the silver scar bisecting YQY's eyebrow. It's an old scar, he doesn't think about it anymore. He doesn't think about the jagged glass of a thrown bottle raining down on he and SJ when they'd set up on a street corner for too long. It's there when he looks in the mirror each morning. A reminder of the things that shaped them.

YQY turns his attention back to the scones he's shaping, sneaking a glance under his brows at SJ to see if he's been caught wool gathering. He hasn't been. SJ has been distracted himself picking out his next choice of treat. It's progress, hard-won, and sits warmly in YQY's chest. There's no need anymore to shove whatever can be grabbed into pockets or mouths as quickly as possible. He'd be lying if YQY didn't sometimes miss the way SJ's cheeks would puff like a chipmunk as he crammed as many of YQY's practice cookies into his mouth as possible when they'd meet between classes at university. Those misshapen bits of flour, butter, and sugar were often the only things to fill their bellies between paychecks back then.

Nowadays, there's no worry where the next meal will come from. There's even space to play and experiment, this time in the shape of the yuzu and brown butter scones ready to move from their final chill in the industrial fridge to the oven. YQY thinks he's gotten the proportions right this time in the ninth iteration of the recipe. When the scones are ready, he and SJ will still each pull one off the tray before they're actually cool enough to handle. They'll likely burn their tongues again (they always do, too impatient to wait when the air is warm and thick with vanilla and sugar and citrus) and SJ will bemoan the years of calluses and burns that let YQY hold his scone while SJ has to swap his between hands every few seconds. The trial and error will be worth it. It always is.

[wangxianficfinder]

oh I wasn’t aware it was feeding the ai. I’ve inserted hundreds of fics into chatgpt for their continuation or for a different plot within the same context just for fun and out of curiosity… but I’ve never posted any of them…

Indeed, anything that is given to AI it can use later to draw from. That's why it doesn't matter if you post them or not as it has now access to those writers' texts without their permission.

~Mod L

[gentil-minou]

for the love of everything that is good and nice DON'T DO THIS

[sidepartskinnyjeans-deactivated]

Please do not do this! I'm happy to talk about 'what ifs' or 'what happens next' even if I can't write a whole fic but PLEASE don't put any fics into AI!

[math-is-magic]

#i'm so exhausted#fic being scraped off ao3 by bots is bad enough#readers actually FEEDING fic into AI is breaking my actual heart#DO NOT EVER FEED FIC INTO AI WITHOUT THE AUTHOR'S PERMISSION#99.999% of authors are THRILLED to discuss AUs for their fics#the 'what ifs'#the 'missing scenes'#the possible alternate outcomes#JUST ASK THE AUTHOR TO CHAT WITH YOU ABOUT THIS#most of us would cry with joy if you gave us the chance to ramble about our fics!#DO NOT FEED MY FICS TO AI PLEASE I BEG YOU -@cicerfics

[cardigarden]

Oh my god what no don't do this what the fuck

[muffinlance]

SECONDED

[requindeterre]

Scumplane Pacific Rim AU pt 4

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3]

I forgot to post this here when I updated it on AO3. Oops

Returning to base after being so certain he would never see it again left Shen Qingqiu with mixed feelings. He had been fully ready to die for people who were at best, indifferent to him, at worst considered him a caustically unpleasant glory hound out to steal victories from 'worthier' pilot teams. Not that Shen Jiu ever put much stock in their opinions of him, changing a poor first opinion would take time and energy more effectively used to optimize training simulations based on the new data from each Breach. It would be an uphill battle and not one that he was at all interested in engaging in. 

If his inevitable burn out had been the price to pay for the safety of the only place he had reasonably called home in his miserable life, it was a minuscule cost in the face of the debt he owed after being given a chance to make something of himself - even if he had to fight tooth and nail to get there. Tactically speaking, using him as a sacrificial piece on the board to secure a broader victory was a sound strategy. A lone pilot was a liability - but, the mind nestled with his like chickens in a coop was a reminder that he could no longer claim status as a lone pilot. He reached out to brush Shang Qinghua's mind, reassuring himself that he wasn't alone. 

They were both exhausted and clinging to the last dregs of victory to finish the mission by the time Shen Qingqiu finally docked Xiu Ya in its transport. In the quiet of the con pod he curled his mind protectively around Shang Qinghua's, the closest contact he had allowed himself since separating from Qi-ge all those years ago, while the transport ferried them the rest of the way back to base. 

What an odd little surprise to have been hidden in plain sight. Whether Shen Qingqiu had netted himself an unstable pilot pair, laughably appropriate given his own downslide, remained to be seen. The flashes of strange memories had been intriguing but there hadn't been time to chase R.A.B.I.Ts while clearing out the drones. Drones, offspring - whatever they were, they were new and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t say that he much cared for the precedent it potentially set. He made a mental note to follow up on the new Kaiju data during his upcoming stay in Qian Cao's care. Regardless, the fact that Shang Qinghua had already been aware of the broad strokes of the…unpleasantness of his past even if the details Shang Qinghua's mind provided aligned in a strange way, a historical fantasy setting of all things, would be cause for concern if not for the persistent ideation that 'Airplane' was a transmigrator. He added another mental note to casually suggest a psych evaluation for his new partner to the medical staff. That got a distracted grumble from Shang Qinghua's mind. Interesting. 

Before Shen Qingqiu could pick apart the puzzle further, Shang Qinghua's mind began to fade away from his, grains of sand pouring out of a broken hourglass. Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong- instinctual fear gripped him and he latched on, unwilling and unable to let go of the mind meld slipping through his fingers. The hours of academy training about the psychological effects of dropping out of a paired drift were far from Shen Qingqiu’s mind. There was no muscle memory for this, no well of experience to draw from, just the fear of the gift he’d been given being stolen away from him. He set his teeth and clung. It didn’t work. Every ounce of stubbornness in him and it still didn’t work. The connection between them oozed like honey, drop by drop the ties binding them together spun thinner and thinner - then snapped. The part of Shen Jiu that had never truly left the Qiu cried out. Don’t go, stay, don’t leave me here alone again but there was no one else to hear him anymore. 

By the time the techs opened the con pod to retrieve him, Shen Qingqiu was already lurching through the port at speed slowing just enough to rip the helmet from his head. The staff pulled back in alarm for a moment, had Shen Qingqiu actually died on the battlefield and they’d  transported back a fierce corpse? He toppled to the grating of the gangplank halfway between Jaeger and platform, no longer able to stay upright of his own power but determined to drag himself if he had to, and the Qian Cao medics on standby swooped into action. One of the technicians who had opened the door made eye contact as Shen Qingqiu was loaded onto the stretcher. Every time he'd come out of the pod previously he had been cool, calm, and collected as he followed the Qian Cao personnel to receive treatment. Never a hair out of place. Whatever had happened this time had left him shaky and pale as blood poured from his nose. With his wild hair, frantically darting pupils, and fervent soundless whispers, maybe the initial designation of fierce corpse hadn’t been far off after all. Shen Qingqiu continued trying to speak as the stretcher lifted off the ground. It took a moment of carefully watching his lips for the tech to piece together what he was saying. “Where is Shang Qinghua,” over and over and over again.

Shen Qingqiu’s question spread through the dome like wildfire. The last anyone could reliably remember seeing Shang Qinghua was in the Command Room, remotely troubleshooting a buggy bit of code that misread the fuel tanks of Cheng Luan’s secondary thrusters as empty despite a full refuel before deployment. That had been hours ago by this point, before contact had been made. Their clue came forty five minutes into the search from a pair of Shen Qingqiu’s students. “Shang Shishu? Wasn’t he heading toward the labs?” Ning Yingying turned to Ming Fan hovering at her elbow. 

Privately, the An Ding disciple thought that the speed the boy’s head bobbed in his haste to agree with his companion was a rather passable impression of a chicken. But, a lead was a lead and the labs seemed as likely a place for the missing officer to be as any at this point, despite his tendency to avoid the labs after a breach like the plague until an upcoming briefing forced him back to work. Later, an additional allotment of shore leave would find its way to the pair of disciples. No one looked too closely at the strange system error in their favor.

Things moved quickly after Shang Qinghua’s return to consciousness. In tried and true fashion, Shen Qingqiu bullied his way into sharing Shang Qinghua's hospital room, commandeering the second bed and becoming selectively deaf when the staff tried to coax him back to his own room. Older staff were already well-used to his antics and bullheadedness and accepted the change without comment, bringing both sets of medications when making their rounds unasked.

The first time they were left truly alone together, Shang Qinghua flinched whenever Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth, bracing for the interrogation he felt certain was coming. The fifth time it happened Shen Qingqiu’s jaw clamped shut and he pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the building irritation. Enough was enough. He was still unsteady on his feet as he slid out of bed, grabbing the cane at the bedside to make his way to the chair beside his rabbit-hearted partner. Shang Qinghua attempted to scramble off the bed but hadn’t accounted for Shen Jiu’s longer reach, scruffing him by the neck of the Qian Cao issued hospital gown. “Get back in bed, you’re still recovering from your hare-brained rescue operation. And breathe would you?  I can still feel you, your anxiety is making both of our blood pressures rise.” Shen Qingqiu sighed heavily through his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Slowly, watching Shen Qingqiu carefully, Shang Qinghua eased back into bed. When that elicited nothing but a raised eyebrow and a stare that sent disciples fleeing, Shang Qinghua rubbed his nose and sheepishly chuckled. He knew that, he did, and it wasn’t like there was any animosity or ill-intent coming through their link. And wow was that weird to think about, a whole other person being beaming directly into his brain. A lot had happened - was still happening and there was so much to take in and process. They’d never ever had a real conversation, it was always Shen Qingqiu barging into R&D with his usual tirade of ‘Xiu Ya this, drivesuit that, where is my AI co-pilot Shang Qinghua?’ What was a guy supposed to do with that??? Ah, really shixiong, have mercy on your shidi, he was only trying to do the right thing! He saved Shen Qingqiu and was saved in turn according to Mu Qingfang. So, they were even now - no need to make a big deal about it, water under the bridge! They could go back to going their separate ways, this didn’t have to be anything more than a blip!

A wave of sullen resistance passed through Shang Qinghua before a cool hand folded over his, entwining their fingers. The skin to skin contact echoed between them, each feeling both sides of the contact. That - that was a thing, a thing that Shang Qinghua would definitely not be examining the implications of right now, no, nope, absolutely not. He could feel his ears and cheeks heating as an amused huff sounded near his ear. When did Shen Qingqiu get so close? 

Shang Qinghua was saved by one of the nurses entering. As she started in on badgering Shen Qingqiu about being out of bed, he tilted away from her to roll his eyes. When it became clear she wouldn’t leave until she’d taken both of their vitals, from their own beds, he complied begrudgingly but didn't relinquish Shang Qinghua's hand until distance forced the issue, reluctant to the last curl of his fingertips. The phantom touched lingered in Shang Qinghua's mind that night as he traced his fingers in the dark. After their discharge, Shang Qinghua's living quarters were the next target of prolonged contact. Shen Qingqiu had shown up at his door with boxes unannounced and proceeded to make himself at home. A brief wordless battle of confusion and insistence ensued - ending in Shang Qinghua's bachelor pad becoming a shared space like a secondary office or lounge. Airplane couldn't make any sense of it. Why was Shen Qingqiu suddenly taking an interest in him after years of only acknowledging him when Shen Qingqiu needed something from R&D? He was constantly popping up for seemingly no reason and getting under foot. Shen-shixiong, this shidi promised he wouldn't disappear if unobserved for five minutes, really! Being watched like a hawk would be less of an issue if he didn't need to submit a report to Mobei Jun in the pressingly near future. At this rate Shang Qinghua was going to miss a check in and that would go over about as well as the "ribs" served in the mess hall - which was to say, not well at all. 

It wasn't that Shang Qinghua hadn't tried to give his new sort of roommate the slip. He did! He really did! It was just that everytime he thought Shen Jiu was off doing what he was supposed to be like teaching the next generation, Shang Qinghua would spot him through the lab’s reinforced glass wall overlooking the Jaegar bays below - conveniently taking Qing Jing disciples for a tour or walking into the mess hall after Shang Qinghua had just started eating and had no plausible reason to flee. Without fail, Shen Qingqiu’s gaze found him like a heat seeking missile. And each time, the slightest quirk of Shen Qingqiu's lips seemed to say, found you. It wasn't good for Shang Qinghua's heart. 

Just like it wasn’t good for his heart the way Shen Jiu kept touching him when they were in proximity. It was never inappropriate - brushing off metal shavings clinging to the shoulder of his jumpsuit, a tug on his sleeve to redirect him out of the flow of on-coming foot traffic while he talked his way through a problem, and one memorable time crouching down to retie the laces of his boot while his hands were full of an unwieldy crate. That one had thankfully been in a rarely traveled maintenance corridor. Tongues were already wagging about how Shen Qingqiu’s well-documented avoidance of others had been thrown out the window after Xiu Ya’s return and Airplane would vastly prefer to be privy to gossip rather than the source of it.

“It’s because they have nothing better to do with their time,” Shen Jiu mused from their couch without looking up from his book one evening.

In the kitchenette the cheery yellow kettle clicked off and Shang Qinghua absently began pouring water for their tea, talking over his shoulder. 

“For as busy as the rest of us are, you’d think they’d have found something better to talk about by now. Like how that group of Ku Xing kids are always sneaking over to Zui Xian after curfew. They’re not exactly subtle when coming back but not a single disciplinary - Ah, Shit!”

Shen Jiu’s head popped up over the back of the couch immediately to assess the situation. Shang Qinghua’s tendency toward flapping about while speaking had come back to bite him. Or burn him in this case. The kettle had been set down in favor of holding his burnt hand to blow on it.

Cute. Airplane shot an accusatory pout toward the couch.

“No, don’t you dare. You’re the one who insisted on tea in the first place!”

Still fondly amused, Shen Jiu rose from his elegant sprawl to guide the injured hand under cool water. His grip was gentle as he held Airplane’s wrist in one hand and cradled the other palm to palm, rotating their joined hands slowly so none of the burn was missed. Shang Qinghua looked up at him through slightly teary lashes. Noticing the attention, Shen Jiu turned with a hum and an unguarded smile. And wow, it’s not like Airplane had never noticed Shen Jiu’s looks - cold, mean, and pretty was his type after all - but this, this was different. Touchable. The warm light softened the sharp planes of his face and this close Shang Qinghua could see the faint scattering of  faded freckles across his cheeks normally well camouflaged beneath a thin layer of powder.

Whatever was coming through their heightened bond darkened Shen Jiu’s eyes, lids lowering to half mast as he touched their foreheads together.

“Breathe little rabbit.”

The tips of their noses touched, slid along each other as the angles shifted close enough to share a breath between them. A heartbeat, two, drumming between them as the bridge closed.

Only to jump apart as an all-too familiar siren rang through the dome. Another Breach.

[requindeterre]

I started another ranwan piece while the next part of the Scumplane AU is percolating in my brain. Gonna finally write that divorce au and hurt my own feelings

[requindeterre]

Scumplane Pacific rim AU pt 3

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] More action heavy this chapter.

Oh for the love of- Curse Shang Qinghua’s stupid rotten luck!

It should have been an easy fight - the initial breach was only a Category 3. Well, if not an easy fight at least a straightforward one. That was, until the beast had breached the surface and they’d gotten a visual. By then Cheng Luan had already been in the process of deploying and there was no time for a change in tactics. Liu Qingge headed their most seasoned pilot pair, even if the second half of the set was a revolving door of faces from Bai Zhan, Cheng Luan would come through this no problem. Then the giant shell on the beast’s back lifted to reveal leathery wings and the beast was airborne making a beeline for the coast just five miles north of the dome. The intercept was already in motion, they’d have plenty of time.

Except- whatever had designed these terrible beasties must have been on a bug kick when they’d pieced this one together. Its bloated and bulbous belly writhed as Cheng Luan was dropped and sped toward its opponent with singular focus. Jaeger and Kaiju circled in a lethal dance as Cheng Luan kept the beast, now nicknamed Taotie in the Com-Room, from reaching shore. Taotie bellowed as it swooped toward Cheng Luan with clawed forelimbs extended. Meeting blow for blow, Cheng Luan arced its primary blade up in a sweep calculated to bisect the creature. The blade nicked Taotie’s belly and came into a guard just as the full weight of the creature’s scrabbling limbs locked around the Jaeger, pincer jaws extended toward the conn pod. Amid the tussle, Taotie's belly gave way with a sickening pop and wave of Kaiju Blue. It hadn't been a belly at all but a sac wrapped around the creature's tail and several dark masses. The weight shifted as the clumps fell into the water below. Taotie's wickedly curved tail arched over its back. Overbalanced, Cheng Luan began to tip backwards and spun in the descent to pin Taotie beneath it. Command started to receive visuals on the clumps that had separated and now a small fleet of unidentified foes were a mere mile offshore.

This was bad. This was very very bad. Xian Shu's pair were still laid up in the infirmary after the last attack. Ku Xing's Jaeger was still grounded for repairs to contain and stabilize the radiation leaking from its reactor. Watching the situation unfold from the Command Deck, Shang Qinghua mentally blazed through the list of candidates. Thanks to the increasing rates of breaches they were down to Xuan Su or Xiu Ya and Yue Qingyuan was needed on the deck. That just left - No. Absolutely not. It was still too soon to send Shen Qingqiu out again, he'd just been released from Mu Qingfan's care a week ago from a fight a -month- ago. In a daze, Shang Qinghua looked back at the display broadcasting the battle. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Cheng Luan was holding its own for now but the battle wasn't in their favor. The fight had made landfall in a normally bustling part of the city. If luck was in their favor, which Shang Qinghua had some serious doubts about at this point, Liu Qingge had kept the Kaiju busy enough to allow for most to evacuate. Judging from the hard looks on faces around the Comm Room, it hadn't been enough. Taotie had latched onto Cheng Luan's back and its scorpion-like tail pierced the Jaeger's midsection like a hot knife through butter. By no means ideal but Shang Qinghua had seen Liu Qingge and co-pilot by extension come through worse, maybe it would be okay.

It was not going to be okay. The masses carried through the breach by Taotie had been roughly man-sized when they disengaged. By the time they made landfall they were the size of tanks and getting bigger. When they started dropping from sky scrappers to dogpile onto Cheng Luan, they’d reached the size of semi trucks. Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua saw Yue Qingyuan’s expression shift from concern to the closest thing he’d seen to terror on the Marshall’s face and a quick shake of Yue Qingyuan’s head. Shang Qinghua whipped around to follow Yue Qingyuan’s line of sight and caught a glimpse of one of Shen Jiu’s signature suits speeding out the door. Shit. Shit shit shit.

—

Even knowing it was an ill-fated plan, Shen Qingqiu had always believed in the capability of the dome beyond himself. So he went. The couplers from the airlift disengaged and Shen Qingqiu braced for the transition from free fall to a run. Cheng Luan had managed to disengage from the dog pile but was badly damaged by the time Xiu Yu reached the front line of the battle. The Jaeger’s right side was lodged in a building and most of the cabling connecting upper and lower body were severed. Cheng Luan's left arm lay somewhere under the rubble across the road.

“Shen Qingqiu,” Liu Qingge rasped before falling silent.

Even barely conscious, the man couldn’t stand him. Evac was still more than fifteen minutes out. Take down the beasts or distract them long enough for Liu Qingge and disciple to be secured. It was a simple plan and an efficient one, open to permutations as the situation required. The rattled hiss was the only warning Shen Qingqiu got before the kaiju’s maw shot out from the darkness behind Cheng Luan. Acting on instinct, Xiu Ya yanked Cheng Luan forward to step neatly between his brother-in-arms and the oncoming threat. A garbled “rat bastard pretty boy” came through the comms channel as the remaining conscious pilot was jostled. Shen Qingqiu tuned it out as his focus narrowed to the tip of his sword thrusting into the pincered abyss before him. Let Liu Qingge continue to think poorly of him. Just so long as he lived long enough to do so.

With Taotie and company engaged, shifting the battlefield away from the carapace of Cheng Luan was straightforward. However, landing the final blow to dispatch Taotie took more out of Shen Qingqiu than it should have. A blinding headache had begun building behind his eyes making it difficult to focus on the hoard of drones still circling him and there'd been a high pitched ringing in his right ear since he reached the district. Even through the relay gel he could feel sweat gathering at his temples and upper lip. Xiu Ya’s left side wasn’t responding as it should. Too slow, like moving through water. Compensating for the delay was possible but - it was a bad sign. Gods knew Mu Qingfan had drilled the warning signs into him often enough. Still, surrounded by enemies engaging in pack tactics to get the drop on him didn’t leave him with many options.

Mission control was shouting something but the ringing and incessant pounding in his skull made focusing enough to discern it impossible. The words were just an added layer of noise in the cacophony of his pulse and the dying shrieks of his opponents. Unease churned in his gut as the blaring claxons of his mind drowned out any attempt at thought. Unable to think, unable to plan, he would have to rely on muscle memory to push through, nothing existed beyond that.

—

Vitals blipped and streaked across the panels of Qian Cao’s station in the control room, drastic peaks and valleys in the place of the steady wave form that indicated a healthy pilot. They were going to watch Shen Qingqiu stroke out in real time, Shang Qinghua thought dazedly, they were going to watch, just let it happen, and then pretend regret at the funeral as though nothing could be done. Other parts of Control were a hive of activity, organizing additional ground forces to assist evac under the assumption that Shen Qingqiu would die before Cheng Luan and crew could be recovered.

The years of service, of pushing beyond the limits of the possible for even the first percentile of experienced pilots and Cang Qiong was simply going to abandon him. Toss him away like garbage once he was no longer useful. Fuck that. No.

“It’s not right, this isn’t right,” Shang Qinghua’s muttering was lost in the surrounding din. He ran through their options at breakneck speed. He had little to no authority in the Control Room so trying to leverage a support team for Xiu Ya was off the table. Yue Qingyuan seemed…pained but resigned already grieving a man not yet dead. Or maybe grieving what could have been if he had clipped his Xiao Jiu’s wings earlier. No, no, Airplane was getting off track, he needed to focus. Wait - he could fix this. He could definitely probably fix this.

Everyone had long since learned to tune out his ramblings and even his presence unless they needed something so no one batted an eyelash when Shang Qinghua scurried out of the Control Room at a speed faster than his usual scramble.

There was still a PON headset in the lab calibrated and linked to Xiu Ya’s systems from the last set of upgrades two days ago. Two days. His hands were shaking and a thick nausea rose in the back of his throat as he cleared the Command corridor headed full-tilt toward the labs. He could fix this, he could. He just needed time. Time Shen Qingqiu likely didn’t have but the bullheadedness of his scum villain had worked miracles before, Airplane needed it work another one now.

The adrenaline rush already made him feel half out of his body by the time the headset was secured. Shen Jiu was stubborn and spiteful and mean and if Shang Qinghua could establish a link in time, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Shen Qingqiu would pull through. The control board for the headset blinked a steady green. He took a breath to steady himself, mouth pulling in grim determination as he initiated the handshake sequence. The world around him swayed and distorted like he’d been spun too quickly on a carnival ride not quite up to code and his mind spun out with it.

The drift wasn’t what he had expected, not that he’d particularly known what to expect in the first place. It crashed into him like waves, allowing him enough time to try to catch a breath and orient himself only for the next wave to break before he could get enough air. Shang Qinghua did his best to try and relax into it, to let the waves do the work of carrying him into the Bridge. There was no mistaking it when the Bridge formed. Shen Qingqiu’s fury was palpable with Shen Jiu’s shame tucked behind to hide it, a child hiding behind their mother’s skirts.

Nothing was hidden in the drift. Not the brutal past Airplane had written for Shen Qingqiu that twisted and fractured to fit the new narrative, not Shang Qinghua’s identity as a transmigrator turned spy. Shang Qinghua had thought he might panic at being laid so bare, all of his secrets displayed like wares at a swapmeet. Instead, all he could feel was relief. Relief at being seen truly and completely, at being known in a way that words could never convey, being mirrored and refracted should be disconcerting but it felt like part of him. Arguably since Shen Qingqiu had sprung from his mind to the textblock of PIDW, Shen Jiu was part of him. It was more tangible than that though.

And oh, Shen Qingqiu was going to have WORDS with him later, Shang Qinghua could feel that through the drift clear as day. But for now, the Bridge was doing its job, parsing the mental load between them enough for Shen Qingqiu to claw his overtaxed mind back from the edge. Without being in Xiu Ya’s conn pod, Shang Qinghua couldn’t assist with the actual physical piloting. Instead, his mind acted like the bulkheads of a ship, stymieing the flood to keep the vessel afloat.

Now that he wasn’t bearing the full load himself, Shen Qingqiu tore through the remaining kaiju like tissue paper. Piloting had never been this easy, Xiu Ya this responsive. He wove through enemies, sweeping the battlefield like a selective tempest. Minimizing damages to the surrounding district was easier as well, closer to the precise strikes and flows he drilled in the practice rooms than reality of kilotonnes of steel and cabling darting about in a murderous dance. It was euphoric, though that was likely the adrenaline. His quietly jubilant laughter tumbled out of the speakers in Control sending shivers down the spines of more than one disciple.

They maintained the drift until Xiu Ya returned to base triumphant and by then Shang Qinghua was shaking and exhausted from the effort of holding it over such a distance. He barely managed to pry the rig off, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor before slumping back in his chair. Bone deep exhaustion left his body too heavy to move or even radio over the comms. Shit, no one knew where he was and he was dropping, fast. Oops.

—

When he swam back to consciousness, Shang Qinghua was hooked up with enough wiring and medical monitoring equipment to convince his addled brain that he was still in the PON rig. The panic he had expected in the drift made itself known, bubbling over and sending him thrashing and tugging at whatever he could reach to get free. A loud tone began sounding to his left, fueling his panic further. The door swung open as Qian Cao staff flooded the room to pin him down. This only increased his panic. Please don't kill him, he had so much left to do still! Bruises were fine but not the face!

“He’s disoriented and babbling. Put him back under.”

Cold flooded one of his hands in a rush and Shang Qinghua fell back into the waves.

When he woke next there was a nurse changing his IV bag.

"Mrrpph?" He mumbled intelligently. His brain was foggy and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. He didn't know where he was. The panic was rising again and a sense of distant distress rose to meet it.

"Head Technical Officer Shang? You're in the medical ward, please try to relax and keep still. You gave us quite a scare last time."

"Hnnrgh," he gestured in what he hoped was the general vicinity of his mouth.

"Oh! Of course Officer Shang. Slowly now, don't choke."

Shang Qinghua sipped his water dutifully until he could finally unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to start in on his questions. Lucidity and information did wonders to calm him down but his previous turmoil brought a storm outside his door.

"If you do not let me in this instant I will raise the simulation difficulty for every one of those Bai Zhan boneheads until you are scraping them off the training room floor. Do -not- test me. Now move or I will make you."

The door swung open startling his nurse who quickly pulled back the curtain around the bed. Looking worse for wear but lucid, alive!, Shen Qingqiu hobbled to the bedside on a cane ready to strike down anyone who got in his way. Mu Qingfan trailed behind, eyebrow raised at the spectacle his fellow officers brought to the normally quiet ward. Huffy and dander up, Shen Qingqiu still managed to seat himself gracefully in the bedside chair the nurse brought over. He eyed over Shang Qinghua, taking inventory. Mu Qingfan handled the initial debrief now that both parties were awake and watched the pair closely. Shang Qinghua's hand twitched and Shen Qingqiu was already in motion, gracefully refilling the water cup to pass it over. Mu Qingfan's other brow rose.

Leaping from 'drift incompatible' directly to ghost drifting was certainly…something.

[requindeterre]

Wax fruit and other temptations

Pairing: Ranwan Rating: Explicit CW: pwp, camboy au, teacher/student (college aged) mentioned in passing, masturbation, dry humping, possessiveness, lingerie, mentions of BDSM, domming, sex toys, fuck machines, overstimulation, hair pulling, one sided identity reveal Summary: Beidou3799 had been quiet for longer than usual and Mo Ran’s nerves were getting the best of him. Enough so that even his own videos as Top Ten Performer Taxian_Jun had dropped slightly in quality. It had all started with a stilted, poorly shot live stream of a faceless man grinding artlessly against a pillow and a single dedicated viewer - Mo Ran. AKA - Mo Ran fucks around and finds out A/N: It’s just 1.9K of Hornt(tm) y’all. Cross-posted on AO3 and twt

Beidou3799 had been quiet for longer than usual and Mo Ran’s nerves were getting the best of him. Enough so that even his own videos as Top Ten Performer Taxian_Jun had dropped slightly in quality.     It had all started with a stilted, poorly shot live stream of a faceless man grinding artlessly against a pillow and a single dedicated viewer - Mo Ran.     Mo Ran couldn’t help it, he’d been scrolling through live cams late one night in a malaise of boredom, ‘market research’, and horny. Mostly the latter but since the thought of having to deal with the drama his regular hookups brought seemed like too much work, there he was, scrolling.

He’d almost given up on the cams too until a particular thumbnail caught his eye after he’d nearly scrolled past it. Even through the grainy preview Mo Ran could tell that Beidou was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, second only to his professor Chu Wanning.

Mo Ran’s dick didn’t seem to find the quality an issue at all and within two streams he’d subscribed on his personal account. That had turned into offering advice, first in the chat that Beidou never seemed to read and then through private messages after Beidou had reached out after a stream.          ‘Thank you for the information, I will take it under advisement.’  

Despite Mo Ran’s initial assumption that he’d managed to offend the object of his recent orgasms, it hadn’t taken long to realize that that was just how Beidou was. Terse, blunt, and clearly inexperienced. If that similarity made it easier to imagine Beidou as the untouchable Chu Wanning during a stream, flushed and wordlessly begging for the hands-on instruction he clearly needed, well, that was between Mo Ran and his dick, thank you very much.

  After a mix of coaxing and advice, from one performer to another, Beidou had transitioned first to better equipment then to videos. Those got more traction on the site and soon Beidou’s regulars bloomed from one to double digits. Although he was pleased to see Beidou succeed, bitter jealousy churned in Mo Ran’s gut when he saw others start to covet his Beidou. He’d been there first!

Eager to mark his territory, when Beidou had made an off handed comment in their dms about looking for an editor for his videos, Mo Ran jumped at the chance. He wasn’t sure when he would find the time to do it between his coursework and his own shoots and editing but he’d figure it out. Far better to keep his Beidou safe and unattainable from some stranger who wouldn’t appreciate the gift of Beidou’s raw footage or worse take his attention away.

It’d been a year and half since then and some of the best orgasms of Mo Ran’s life, particularly from the take where part of Beidou’s face had dropped into frame. That delicately pointed chin and bruised lips from where Beidou’s teeth had caught it to hold in his moans never made it into the final cut. No, something like that where the tip of a little pink tongue dragged across Beidou’s lip was for his eyes only. Mo Ran had a duty to keep a secret like that safe. The fact that the first time he’d seen it the blood rushed to his cock so fast he felt light headed was entirely secondary.

But - there’d been no new footage from Beidou for a month now which found Mo Ran in his current state of worry. What if Beidou had decided he was done and simply dropped Mo Ra- everything without a word?

  He’d tried reaching out two weeks ago and had only gotten “I am working on a new project, it’s not ready yet” in response.  

The email alert came through while Mo Ran was making final adjustments to the lighting for a show. He had to close his eyes and breathe for a moment to resist the urge to cancel his stream in favor of pouring over whatever files Beidou had sent. Taxian_Jun had a reputation to maintain though and had canceled less than a handful of streams over the course of his career. The thought of what might be in those files simmered low in his gut as he went live. Had Beidou taken any of his suggestions?

  Maybe he’d finally get to see Beidou clothed in delicate lace, hands bound in front as the wand strapped to his thigh forced load after load into white panties until Beidou was shaking, sobbing- begging in overstimulation outside of Mo Ran’s imagination.

Dom streams were nothing new but the heated edge of his cruelty drove the stream to be one of most successful in recent months. Beidou had made him wait a month, having to stream made him wait longer and he vented that frustration on his audience. They made him wait for gratification so they would have to wait too. All the while his mind churned with possibilities. Beidou clad in a belled ribbon collar with garters and stockings, bent over to work a bulbous plug attached to a white cat tail in and out of his hungry hole. He’d whine so prettily as he grew frustrated when it wasn’t enough. His baobei needed more - needed Mo Ran.

By the time Mo Ran wrapped up the stream he was wrung out and boneless in the aftermath of the possibilities and he hadn’t even opened the email yet.     Perfunctory emails were Beidou’s M.O. so the single line of text wasn’t unusual.   ‘The files were too large to attach directly, apologies.’ and a dropbox link containing three -THREE- zip files.

Internally, Mo Ran was weeping with joy. He had been parched in the desert and Beidou had delivered him directly to an oasis to slake his thirst like an angel of mercy. His baobei was so good to him he thought as the files were extracted. Opening the first file immediately explained the extended absence.

  A fuck machine - clearly homemade. Beidou had indeed been busy.

    It had been shot as a side view, opening with Beidou securing the straps around his thighs to the machine before carefully leaning forward to rest his chest against a bench. 

Oh. Oh, he was just going to have to take it wouldn’t he? There was enough give to the straps for the long arch of Beidou’s back as he aligned his hole with a dildo almost as big as Mo Ran. Once the machine started, he wouldn’t have enough slack to wriggle away. He’d be pinned like a butterfly on a board.

  Mo Ran pushed the heel of his palm to the base of his dick for some relief as the machine whirred to life. The first thrust was slow and powerful enough to shift Beidou forward, pulling the straps taut. Trial and error, Mo Ran thought transfixed, the straps had been a necessary add on. The piston reached its full extension and Beidou’s muffled keen rang through the headphones. If this was how it started, there was no way Beidou would be able to keep quiet.  

Mo Ran was proven right as the machine’s speed increased with a click and Mo Ran’s rapidly filling cock jumped when the moaning started in earnest. A haze of lust wrapped around his brain as the world narrowed to the rut of his hips in time to machine and the arch of Beidou’s back as he tried to meet each thrust. Each slurred ‘ah’ and ‘ngh’ melted into the wet slap of deep thrusts formed a chorus that stoked the fire in his blood higher. His Beidou was made for this, made to take a fat cock, made to take Mo Ran.

  Another click and Beidou arched back on his hands, revealing his pretty cock bobbing with each thrust as his thighs shook. The machine pounded mercilessly into him, harder and faster than before. That’s right, his Beidou needed a hard fuck to really cum, needed to be used.

  Mo Ran shoved his sweats down his thighs enough to free his aching cock and blindly reached for the lube he kept on hand when ‘editing’ Beidou’s videos. He hissed through his teeth as the cool gel made contact and moaned outright as he took himself in hand. Timing his strokes to match made his toes curl.

    “That’s right baby, fucking take it,” he muttered as Beidou’s voice rose, too cockdrunk to keep quiet.

  The lube was frothing at the speed he striped his cock and a telltale tension built in his gut. Mo Ran whimpered as he switched from stroking to gripping the base tight. He couldn’t cum yet - not yet, not yet. He panted through it, willing himself away from the edge. Beidou’s spine rounded as he came untouched, curling in on himself as he shook apart and helplessly sobbing as the machine continued unabated.

Fuck. FUCK. Mo Ran squeezed tighter, using the bright edge of pain to hold himself back.

Beidou’s hair must have come loose from the rough use. It spilled into frame like an inky curtain, concealing Beidou’s tight nipples from Mo Ran’s gaze. That wouldn’t do at all. Nothing would hide him from Mo Ran. The thought of wrapping that hair around his fist to keep Beidou in place as Mo Ran fucked so deep his cock would be imprinted forever blazed through him but it was the garbled sob his lust-addled brain heard as “Mo Ran” that sent him hurtling over the edge.

  The force of his orgasm pitched him forward, bracing against the desk as he fucked into his fist to ride it out. As the haze cleared he realized the video was still going. Beidou had slumped forward boneless and trembling as the machine, now back to the slow deep thrusts it started with, milked pearly beads of cum from his cock with each stroke. Mo Ran’s dick gave a valiant twitch but it was too soon to do much else.

  “Mo Ran…please…” Beidou’s punched out whimper set his ears ringing. What. WHAT.

Had he nutted too hard and died? There was no way - no way. Frantically Mo Ran played back the footage, grimacing a bit at the spray of cum that had unfortunately hit his keyboard.

  It shouldn’t be but there it was, clear as day.

Beidou had…for Mo Ran…

He could feel his brain short circuiting as he sped through the rest of the file searching for another slip, another clue that he wasn’t hallucinating. Beidou -knew- him.

  Nothing else in the first file. The second file was a different view, a camera placed beneath Beidou for a very nice upshot that Mo Ran would definitely be revisiting. Later, when not on the hunt for another slip.

He found it in the third clip.

A camera had been rigged over the machine for this one, the round peach of Beidou’s ass the main focal point. Mo Ran’s dick twitched again as the force of the machine rippled said ass.  Down boy, not now.

  He kept his focus on the upper part of the frame as he scrolled through, pausing when he found his answer. There. Beidou’s shoulders and the back of his head had come into frame when his arms gave out after cumming. Beidou shifted - turned back toward the machine over his shoulder as if to scold it.

Mo Ran’s stomach sank, he’d recognize those aggrieved phoenix eyes anywhere.

    Beidou, his Beidou, his baobei, and the man he’d sometimes (often) imagined in his place were one and the same. Chu Wanning.

[requindeterre]

#bingyuan where Bingge finds a Shen Yuan who doesn't need him. He's financially comfortable, his home and meals are handled by services, he has friends who he chats and meets with regularly.

This version is both the same and worlds apart from the pampered pet who braided LBH's hair

It's disconcerting, his wives and conquests have always needed him in some way. To not have a role he can simply pick up feels unnatural and rings too similar to feeling powerless before the abyss.

There's also the matter of Shen Yuan's kindness and utter lack of expectations. He expects nothing from LBH, doesn't ask for anything but tales of his adventures.

Every time LBH's tried to take up some chore or task to earn his keep he's been gently reminded that there's no need

Shen Yuan likes him and his company but he doesn't NEED him and it's driving Luo Bingge crazy

[piosplayhouse]

I will never make any content that is AI-generated. Unfortunately everything I post is from my own brain

[requindeterre]

Scumplane Pacific Rim AU pt 2

A/N: I still have no idea what I’m doing. [Pt 1] The week after Shen Qingqiu piloted was always the least pleasant in Shang Qinghua’s opinion. After being released from Medical, Shen Qingqiu would stalk the halls on a mission terrifying any of the newer personnel who hadn’t yet learned to scatter. Inevitably, this mission would end with Shen Qingqiu filling the doorway to Shang Qinghua’s domain and the crash and clang of tools as any An Ding member who could make themselves scarce did. And how did he do that, really? His shixiong was tall, yes, but Airplane could swear he was nowhere near tall enough to loom like that. Maybe Shang Qinghua should ask him on a less volatile day to teach him the trick of it, having a skill like that would be invaluable in wranging his subordinates or dealing with the staff of the Northern Desert- Well, on second thought maybe not, the less volatile days were becoming harder and harder to come by and it wasn’t exactly like they were friendly enough that Shang Qinghua could ask him for a favor. The clang of metal on metal broke his stream of thought. “Fix. It.” ‘It’ being the helmet of Shen Qingqiu’s flight suit. Airplane tried to keep up, he did! But, there were only so many hours and budgetary allocations he could make for their stubborn solo pilot when those resources could be put toward the dome’s active pilot pairs. Not that he could say that to Shen Qingqiu though, he liked his head where it was! “Er, Shixiong, what’s the issue now? Weren’t you just in last month for calibrations? There shouldn’t be enough flight hours to need it yet,” Shang Qinghua chuckled nervously. His most fearsome shixiong’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “There is a delay between impulse and Jaeger response. Surely Shidi knows that delays, even by a microsecond, could lead to disastrous outcomes? Perhaps Shidi has been too busy focusing on the latest models to continue the research we had agreed upon?” The deceptively soft tone was a trap and Shang Qinghua had heard the sarcastic menace underlain often enough to know there was no getting out of the incoming onslaught. Instead, he strapped in to weather Hurricane Jiu’s sweep through the lab. The howling winds of “outdated gear” and “AI dummy development” spun past as they did every time Shen Qingqiu came to have this “talk”. Eventually the load-goaded fury passed, signaled by Shen Qingqiu bracing his weight against one of the long work benches to catch his breath. He’d barely been released a few hours ago and had had to argue Mu Qingfan into submission for it. He was on borrowed time before he collapsed and he knew it. Shang Qinghua was becoming more intimately familiar with this look too and was unsurprised when Shen Qingqiu halted mid-rant to rise to his full height, tug his still immaculate suit into place, and beat a dignified retreat back to the safety of his quarters where he could allow himself the full scope of his recovery away from prying eyes. Despite the claws, it was painful watching a person of Airplane’s own creation tear himself apart like this. Shang Qinghua made a note to speak with Mu Qingfan on how bad things had gotten and hooked up the helmet Shen Qingqiu had left to the dummy rig to run some troubleshooting. All in all, there wasn’t much Shang Qinghua could do; AI tech was still years behind where it needed to be in order to be viable as a simulated bridge. So, he did what he could. He kept Shen Qingqiu’s gear as up to date as possible with the minuscule budget allotted. It was smaller than it should be for a pilot and nowhere close to covering the actual upkeep costs, let alone any improvements. Yue Qingyuan had been making more of an effort lately to keep Shen Qingqiu grounded and the slashes to the already bare minimum budget had been part of that. It was the latest attempt to temper their volatile pilot. Each time Shen Qingqiu suited up, it became more and more likely he’d be returning to the dome in a body bag leaving them short both a brilliant strategist and their ace in the hole. Shen Qingqiu had defied the odds the first time he’d piloted the Xiu Ya Sword and he kept defying them. Dozens of fights and he just. Kept. Going. But was wearing on Shen Qingqiu and they all knew it. Each time he returned to the dome, he spent longer in medical and took longer and  longer to return to an acceptable baseline. It was an open secret that Mu Qingfan had been moving the goal posts to make it easier for Shen Qingqiu to return to active duty but even with that, there was only so much wiggle room. Shang Qinghua wondered if any of them actually remembered at this point how Shen Qingqiu had been when he’d first joined the dome. His temper and personality were bad, sure, but nothing like what they’ve become. Scathing remarks were normal, flying into an incandescent rage at perceived provocations was not. The signs of a final burn out were lit in neon and they were all just standing by to watch their cold star burn. Shang Qinghua had been helping where he could but he knew it wasn't enough to keep Shen Qingqiu alive in the long run. Shen Jiu may have been the scum villain of the original novel but here - he wasn't that here, not yet. Instead he'd been instrumental to the survival of citizens and dome personnel against the kaiju threat. Shang Qinghua could never say it to his face and survive the encounter but Shen Jiu was a hero both in and out of his Jaeger even if his personality was…not the best. If Airplane could just limp him along until the protagonist showed up, Shen Qingqiu would finally be pulled from piloting completely so those resources could be spent on new pilot pairs. Theoretically, Luo Binghe would be in the upcoming batch of hopefuls. If this world was following the same time line, then the next recruiting drive would be a few short months from now. While not particularly religious, Airplane was tempted to pray to the gods to help him out with keeping his shixiong alive but, as the god of this world (unproven but arguable) it wouldn't make much sense to pray to himself now would it?

[requindeterre]

The five years Luo Binghe spent tending to Shen Qingqiu's body and fighting off Liu Qingge?

None Shizun with Left Beef