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AU where SJ dies young. Maybe the Qius beat him to death before he finally broke and burned down the mansion. Or maybe he got sick or starved even before they met the Qius.

YQY continues living and completes SJ's dream of becoming cultivators, quietly devastated by the loss. Never forgiving himself for failing his little brother.

Then, decades later when he's a Peak Lord, the sect comes across an artifact the can bring back the dead. The Peak Lords all decide that's probably too dangerous, so they lock it away.

But the next day, they find both the artifact and their sect leader missing. They manage to track him down, but arrive too late to stop his ritual.

They have a hard time berating him though, as he and the young boy he brought back hug and for the first time in their memories, their sect leader's eyes have something other than grief in them.

Obviously Cang Qiong wants to know what is this child's relationship to Yue Qingyuan to feel so strongly that he might attempt to resurrect the child.

The easiest answer, the most simple assumption is that this is Yue Qingyuan's brother or a close relative. Yue Qingyuan isn't answering anything, he's too busy basking in happiness, too busy hugging and ordering disciples about to prepare for this boy's stay to hear anything much less answer anything.

But this theory about being siblings or close cousins is proven to not be possible when Mu Qingfang examples the child and finds no blood relation between Yue Qingyuan and this boy.

So if this isn't the love of family... what other type of close love can endure for so long and so unendingly?

First love.

"Ah, that makes sense," the Zui Xian peak lord nods and strokes his beard. "I still remember my first sip of wine." No one is surprised when Qi Qingqi slaps him with her sleeve.

And like that, Cang Qiong realizes that Yue Qingyuan revived his first love, the fiancé his family arranged for him (because how else would a young noble son that's so obedient and filial like Yue Qingyuan fall in love at such a young if not for his parents' instructions?) The gap gap is... a bit awkward, but hey, better than the fiancé being dead?

Honestly at this point, Yue Qingyuan's inability to communicate anything should be considered a separate independent character in a story because it's so dominating in everything he does.

More in the #Yue Qingyuan revives a dead Shen Jiu and Cang Qiong assumes that Shen Jiu must be Yue Qingyuan's childhood love au

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A girl can dream

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Okay so I’m tired and bitchy and I’ve had a rough morning, and because of that I’m probably about to drop an unpopular opinion here, but I really dont care.

Narcissist is starting to become the new sociopath/psychopath/psycho, and I am really, really concerned with where this is heading.

It’s the exact same thing I’ve been seeing for years with my own diagnosis. You say you’re a sociopath, and immediately you’re now an asshole. I’ve had people actually ask me if I have ever hurt someone/wanted to hurt someone because I’m a sociopath, and I’ve had to explain over and over again that no, that’s not what that means, it just means empathy is not something that I can experience like everyone else. I can still be compassionate, I can still be a kind person, I can have no desire to hurt anyone ever, but I still get treated like a ticking time bomb. Even though my disorder actually helps me in a job that saves lives (I work in tissue donation, so not feeling empathy makes handling donor tissue from a 15 year old a lot easier), I still get asked by people at that same job about my “secret dark side” and if I ever did/do things like torture animals.

The same thing is happening to narcissists. You say you’re a narcissist, and now suddenly you’re an abuser. You want to paint someone as a bad person? Call them a narcissist, then everyone will understand how mean and evil they are. I am so sick and tired of seeing tiktoks, tweets, and Tumblr posts going on and on about how horrible narcissists are and how much people hate them. As if narcissists aren’t people! As if narcissists aren’t people experiencing a personality disorder! Y'all are all about “neurodivergent/mental illness solidarity uwu” until you bring in the “undesirable” mental illnesses and personality disorders, and then suddenly it’s “All x people are mean and evil and abusive blah blah blah they can’t get better/better themselves blah blah blah here’s how to argue with them except I’m not going to actually talk about that I’m actually going to just say how horrible they are and how they’re bad people blah blah blah” and it’s like shut up! Shut the fuck up! Those are people! Those are real people with real feelings and you’re just out here saying they’re inherently bad, and for what? For likes? For clout? Do you have any idea how hard it is to come to terms with a diagnosis like that when your view on it is so incredibly skewed, when you think you’re being assigned the Bad Person Disease™️ after you’ve tried so hard to be a kind person and uplift those around you? And now you’re left thinking it was all for nothing, because now you can never be a good person no matter how hard you try because you have Bad Person Disease? Do you have literally any idea how damaging that is, and how much that hurts? But hey, ableism isn’t ableism when it’s against the “bad” people, right?

Anyway, if you’re a sociopath, psychopath, narcissist, have bpd, are bipolar in the “wrong” way, are schizophrenic or psychotic, are the “wrong” type of autistic, or anything else, I see you and you’re doing amazing. Your diagnosis doesn’t dictate who you are and, even though some things are harder for us than they are for others, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.

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Because my Grindeldore thirst knows no limits and the love I have towards your writing cannot be restrained... I have an abstract one-shot idea for you this time, dear. ‘Heaven Up There’ by Palace makes my heart wander around Albus x Gellert vibes. I have only one concrete detail –attempting to make this prompt a tiny bit more specific– about using any phrase of the song in a dialogue.

You’re always the best ♡ thank you in advance –in the name of all the Grindeldore fandom– for even considering our ideas.

Apologies for taking so long to get around to writing this, love. I hope that you like it. I approached your prompt by reading the lyrics and seeing what kind of dialogue the text would inspire, and here's the end result :)

AO3 link

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“So, this is it?” Gellert asked from behind the bars of his cell, his hands grasping at them tightly, “You are just going to leave me here, Albus?”

Albus looked at him, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. Gellert had been stripped of his cloak and his finery, and all he had left to wear was a thin grey robe. Deprived of his usual garments, he looked smaller, less imposing. Vulnerable. His silver hair was tied back in a ponytail, and there was still a cast wrapped around one of his fingers. He would have looked completely defeated if not for his eyes, which were still burning with that beguiling passion that had first drawn Albus in, so many years ago. If one only looked at his eyes, they would have thought that any minute now, he would open the door of his cell and walk out. But his wand – the Wand, the means to his power – was resting in Albus’ pocket, his claim to the spoils of his victory. Albus did not feel very victorious at the moment. Rather, he felt as if life as he knew it was coming to an end. Here, at the top of this tower. Gellert on one side, and him on the other.

“Yes,” he said, and it hurt him more than anything had ever hurt before.

Gellert’s eyes flared, and he grasped the bars tighter. “Here, Albus?” he hissed, motioning at the small cell behind him. It was barren, except for the hard bed in the corner with a thin blanket set on it. There was no source of light except for the one singular window that was too small for a man to leave or enter. Currently, there was almost no light, the waning moon already having passed it by. Albus felt another twist in his chest at the thought of Gellert spending the rest of his days here, in this small, derelict space. All his brilliance contained, until it suffocated in the dark.

“It is not as if you showed your prisoners any more mercy. This is a prison of your own design,” Albus replied, and it sounded hollow even to his own years.

Gellert scoffed, “Do not give me your Ministry lines. You have influence. If you had wished it, you would have arranged for something better.”

Albus felt tired. His body still ached from their duel and his heart was broken, all over again. Suddenly, he wished to be anywhere but here, soothing Gellert’s anger as if he himself wasn’t hanging by a thread, bruised and abused by the very man who now demanded even more from him. More of his love, more of his care; soaking it all up but giving very little in return. Gellert was like a rising tide, a force of nature that took what he wanted, and Albus had almost given everything to him. Had almost been completely swept away by him.

Albus sighed, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. He wanted to go home. He wished to lay down on his bed, and never think of Gellert Grindelwald again. But he knew it would never happen. Gellert had carved himself too deep inside him, taken too much. Albus would never stop thinking of him.

“It was a condition for your imprisonment. This was the best I could do,” he explained, his voice weary. “You have no idea how long it took me to talk them out of simply executing you. Ever since they found out that we used to be friends," Albus ignored the scornful snort Gellert let out at that description of their relationship, "they have regarded me with suspicion. In fact, it’s a miracle I managed to arrange for your imprisonment at all. I know it is not ideal, but this was truly the best I could do.”

The thought of his potential failure still haunted him. By the end, he had felt like he would have done anything. He would have knelt on the ground and begged if he had had to. He thought that he had done well in composing himself, not letting his desperation show, but the look of pity he had received from Newt afterwards was barely something he could bear. It made something bitter twist in his stomach. He did not want pity. It was not something he deserved.

“And what made you think I would prefer living in these conditions over death?” Gellert asked, his voice cold. Albus knew he only asked to be cruel. He knew very well why. It was for the same reason Albus still stood here, with him, when he could have simply left and never seen him again. “You should have just killed me,” Gellert said softly, and the pity in his eyes was too much.

If Newt’s pity had caused a sour, sorrowful feeling in his stomach, Gellert’s was infinitely worse. It broke Albus’ already shattered heart further. And Albus knew what he said to be true. He knew Gellert would have preferred to die over being locked inside his own tower, with only himself to keep him company. Albus knew it would slowly drive him mad. He could have killed him as he stumbled at the end of their duel. He could have let the German Ministry take him and execute him. But a choice between Gellert alive and Gellert dead was no choice at all. Not for him.

Instead of vocalising any of this, he simply admitted, “I’m a selfish man.”

“And a cruel one,” Gellert shot back. Albus had no answer to that. It was true. It was perhaps the cruellest thing he had ever done. But the alternative was not something Albus thought he could survive.

Selfish, indeed.

A silence fell between them. Gellert was no doubt looking for something else to wound him with. Albus simply felt unable to leave. Once he left, there would be no coming back. This was the last time he would ever see Gellert Grindelwald. As much he had wished to leave before, the reality of it was too enormous. He felt moisture gather at the corners of his eyes, and he turned away his head and blinked rapidly to prevent any tears from falling. Gellert, for once, ignored the obvious display of weakness. Perhaps he also felt the inevitable approach of their parting. Albus could not be certain, even though once he had thought that he knew him better than anyone.

Eventually, Gellert broke the silence, “And what are you going to do now that you have taken me down? Will you finally leave that school and take the position the Ministry has offered you? I have no doubt you will be lauded as a hero and any nasty allegations of what your relationship with me was truly like will be simply swept under the rug, right beside all their other dirty little secrets.” His voice was so bitter it hurt Albus to hear it.

He had no doubt that Gellert was right. Before, the Ministry might have been willing to dangle the information over him like the Sword of Damocles, but now that he was the hero who had taken down the most dangerous wizard in centuries, they would pretend as if they had never known of it, and any who might come to ask would be told it was a heinous lie. The knowledge hurt, but at the same time, he did not think he could live with the shame of it if it ever came out in its entirety; in all its cruel, gritty detail.

“I will stay at Hogwarts,” Albus told him. “I have come to the conclusion that power is not something that I’m suited for.”

That answer made Gellert angriest Albus had seen him so far. “Fool,” he spat, “You would hide yourself? Waste all of your potential?”

Albus gave him a sad smile. “I’m trying to be a better man than you were.”

Gellert let out a bitter laugh. “You have become blind. Go on then, waste your time pretending. See if that will make you happy.” He leaned against the bars again, his eyes cutting into Albus. “You will still have to live with the truth within you,” he whispered.

Albus looked down. “I know,” he admitted, quietly. He did not need Gellert to tell him that. Regret had been his constant companion for years. The knowledge of what he had nearly become could never be swept away. But- “I can still try. It is our actions, after all, that define us.”

Gellert did not answer, but the contempt in his eyes told what he thought of that particular sentiment. Albus allowed himself a moment to drink him in. The shine of his hair, the light and dark of his eyes, the shape of his nose and his mouth, the solid strength of his body. He tried to memorise it all as best he could. But, finally, he could delay no longer. One last lingering look and he turned away, starting down the hallway. He could not say goodbye. It was beyond his strength.

“I cared for you too,” Gellert called after him, softly. Albus’ steps halted. He could almost imagine the look on Gellert’s face; the warmth of his smile, the earnestness of his eyes. If he turned back, he could see it. If he turned back, he would be lost.

“It did not show,” Albus told him, and went.

As he walked down the stairs of the tower, he did not know where his future lay. But as they had been talking, the night had ended, and the shadows had cleared. He walked away, into the shining light of the rising sun, and he did not look back.

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they are so brave for those tags too

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together they might manage to have a regular human emotion

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Albus’s Mirror

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(If this blog is deleted, find my main blog and work on AO3 or my art on Pixiv.)

#grindeldore

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Au grindledore. Albus and Gellert met at Hogward. Albus is the charismatic perfect prefect boy, Gellert is the charismatic genius bad boy. They totally match Yet nobody’s get what they find in each other XD

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“Range Life” by Jordan Bolton

Part of Scenes from Imagined Films Issue #1, available on Etsy

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Classic issue between girls 

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The Outbursts of Everett True was a comic strip that ran in papers from 1905 to 1927, wherein the aforementioned Everett True regularly beat the everliving shit out of rude people as a warning to anyone else who might consider being rude. Men have not only been taking up too much room on public transport for about as long as public transport has existed, but the people around them have been irritated about it for at least a hundred years. The next time someone tries to claim that manspreading is a false phenomenon, please direct them to this strip so that Everett True can correct their misconceptions with an umbrella upside the head.

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❤️First disciple of the Yiling Wei Sect -Xue Yang🖤

Oh, all those patterns on his clothes🛐

It's illogical to draw one when you ship them, I drew the second one because I'm already used to both of them

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–From Shakespeare’s Sonnet 2

I spent quite a lot of time to complete this drawing, and it is my love letter to this tragic but legendary pairing.

 I LOVE GRINDELDORE!! *woe*

#grindeldore #ggad

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Keep reading for the next 5 pages!

Continua a leggere

#grindeldore #ggad

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fiction is made up and not real. if you read fiction in which terrible things happen, and people are murdered and killed and ripped limb from limb and the main character says "I love this I'm gonna keep doing it" and then he gets rich and famous and is widely adored and at the end of the work the author says "author's note: I'm writing this book because I love it when people are ripped limb from limb and killed and chopped up in real life, and I encourage you, the reader, to do just that immediately", do you know what happens?

nothing!

that's right: you, the reader, a presumably responsible adult, are able to make use of your own damn moral compass and conclude "even though the main character of this book killed people and maimed them, and the author said I should do that too, I'm not going to because that would be bad" and then you can go to bed and not fucking worry about it! it's that damn easy!

even if you liked the book! even if you really enjoyed all the parts where the main character kills people and tears them apart and says "I sure do love murder and violence".

you can just, not do that stuff in real life and never fucking worry about it again!

this has been "how to enjoy problematic media".

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something about an act of reclamation or something

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🌿Yi city arc🔪