#its for the plot i swear

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au Part 12

Previous. Masterpost

Danny wasn't completely sure what all of the sound files Duke uploaded into the radio storage. Granted, the fact that there was apparently a 10 Terabyte hard drive just for the radio seemed a bit much, although it was over half full before Duke gave him a metric butt load of sound bytes, so maybe Batman was onto something. Now it was about three-quarters full…. How many files were there?

Either way, whoever named these files are the MvP of this entire situation. Either they were just the name of the saying, or we're named something like ‘exasperated 4’ and they were On Point!

Unfortunately there weren't any defined names other than movie references. Why were there three different versions of the “Hey, Becky, look at her butt” Danny didn't know, but he might use them for reasons.

Duke had left him alone with a disgruntled “Good Luck” after Danny started playing the ‘mood’ files to see exactly what they were. He figured Duke would come back in a few hours to have a “conversation” about his predicament. Until then……

DID THEY SOUND BYTE BATMAN HIMSELF?!?!?!

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[stygiansauce]

HI hello hi im obsessed with margin of error tango . i need to obtain him so badly . like a trading card ?? i also see myself in him a little bit!! im in college for compsci right now and hes who i wanna be in a way? unabashedly southern is the big thing yknow im southern appalachian and like. i know tango isnt but it brings me so much joy to see southern habits(? mannerisms? what word am i looking for here) in a character that isnt just funny and/or stupid! like i love reading descriptions of mannerisms or some of his dialogue and going "hey i do that too!!!" idk if this makes sense im not usually a words guy LOL, long and short of it i love your writing

HAAII!!

I have no clue what posessed me to write southern Tango (outside of a visceral need) but I am so very happy with the response he's gotten! He does a lot of the things I do, in means of mannerisms and dialog, so he's not the worst to write. I'm so sosososos happy you can connect with him!

I think yall will also like when Zed gets written because he is even more southern, if thats possible? Like he uses much more scientific speak but then also covers it up with extreamly Texan phrases. I think the best example I have is  “Have you looked at the time? I swear this better be important or I will shove you so far up the devil’s asscrack—” and "...To give me context while you figure out why exactly you’re callin’ me at the hour of God?”  Zed is a very fun character to write, especially because I have to build him through memories and phone calls.

Anywho, for my degree I have to take a lot of classes about language and culture. Almost all of my classes about that revolve around cultural inclusion (and language inclusion). The responses on MOE, where yall say you see yourself or feel represented (southern, midwestern, STEM, ect.), make me so proud. I'm so happy to have made something that belongs to others just as much as it does me.

Thank you for reaching out anon! You're support means the world to me.

[wwooyology]

you're gonna receive my therapy bills in about a week, be prepared💔

HELP I'M SORRY 😭😭😭

[robiinurheart33]

Ok ok Johnny but he can’t accept the fact that people love him?

First girlfriend. Went south real fast and realised he was gay.

First boyfriend. Was bi-curious. First heartbreak too.

Second boyfriend. Only wanted him for his body. Self explanatory.

Third boyfriend. Way too emotionally unavailable, felt like they weren’t even dating at a point. Turns out he already has a partner.

You get the gist.

At a very young age, Johnny was aware of his unfortunate personality. School fights, family scoldings, bedroom sobbing, it’s all just a blur to him now. It’s not like he had the worst life out there, no. But he can’t shake the fact that he can’t really remember anything about his childhood. The trauma stuck though, unfortunately.

He could never really seem to shake off that “unloveable” blanket on his shoulders.

It’s not that bad, in retrospect. His friends like him, sure. They tolerate him. He knows he’s loud, he knows he’s brash, he’s a lot to deal with! He understands. So every once in a while, he’ll just…back off. Leave everyone alone and just spend some time alone. The horrors do get to him when he’s alone in his room, clutching the fabric of his shirt and trying to get ahold of his breathing, but it’s basically nothing to what everyone else has to endure! He’s selfish, he knows it already, always needy, always wanting. This is the least he can do to make sure that his loved ones aren’t tipped over the boiling point and actually leave him for good.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself at times.

Then he meets ghost.

Powerful, strong, admirable Ghost. He blew his fucking lid. He’s even bigger than the rumours suggest. He’s professional, clean. He’s everything that Soap wishes to be.

He’s jealous right off the bat. How could he not be?

Honestly, he feels a bit bad for the guy at the start. Soap’s laying it on thick with the touching and the questions. He’s obviously fucking with him a bit, bit to be fair he’s not really doing much to stop him either. As time goes on, it becomes a weird sort of admiration/jealousy thing. He still is jealous of Ghost, but not to an extreme extent that he could be.

Ghost is another very peculiar case, one that Soap doesn’t seem to mind prodding. After a few missions together, he could see why he was so infamous. But still, Ghost wasn’t pushing back. Has anyone done this to him before? Why was he just letting this happen? Ghost might find him weird, sure, but he’s the most curious disturbing motherfucker soap’s ever met.

The army isn’t exactly a place to find someone to get their dick wet, homophobes around the corner at every turn. Soap’s just accepted it as part of life now, not really wanting to think much on it but having that fact lurk at the back of his mind. It’s a bit depressing, sure, to not have anyone get to know his actual self, but then again he was sure that anyone who truly got to know him wouldn’t talk to him ever again. If it’s not the gay thing, it’s the army thing. If its not the army thing, it the personality thing. Whatever. John’s gotten used to it.

However, though some unexplainable force (the SAS and Price), Soap and Ghost had become some sort of dynamic duo now. They’d fought together, lost together, gone through some of the most horrific weathers known to man, and they’d both survived under some miracle. Well, soap survived. He never doubted ghost would.

He got very close though. Way too close for Soap’s liking. They were in some fuck-ass country upside down the earth, down to his last mag and ghost clipped in the shoulder. They were hauling ass just- away. They didn’t know when exfil would get there, or where. Their main objective was just to survive. Ghost was making a very vulnerable wheezing sound from his throat and Soap’s gun was overheating, burning though his gloves.

“Soap- Sargent.” Ghost whispered, somehow always remaining calm in the most chaotic situation Soap’s been in so far. Either that, or he’s just really fuckin tired.

“No’ now, L.T, tryna get us to safety.”

“Soap, leave me behind.”

“What? Listen, I’ve got no time for your stupid heroism crap, okay? Just- shut up.”

“MacTavish, im serious. I have nothing waiting for me. I’ll be okay. Just go. Stay safe.”

“Whot the hell did i just say?” He snapped, turning towards him. “I’ve go’ no time for this. You’re coming wit me whether you like it or not.” Soap jabs a finger into his chest, leaning in close until he’s sure Ghost can see the faintest scar on his right eyebrow from screwing around with a razor with his friends, trying to give himself a eyebrow slit.

“You’ve got me, haven’t ya? You’ve got Price, and the people on your team are counting on you. I’m counting on you. So you can die somewhere else, in the bumfuck a’ nowhere, but you’re not allowed to die today, now. Ya hear me?”

Like this, gunpowder and dust making his nose itchy, looking intensely at Ghost to make sure his point is drive home, there’s a look in his eyes that soap thinks he’s never seen before. He- he kinda looks like-

How Soap looks at Ghost.

With admiration.

Oh.

So, yeah. They ran out of there on the air of their asses, Soap laughing as the final hits of adrenaline pulses his heart, Ghost leaning against him with the same look in his eye, and they’ve never exactly been the same after that.

Soap chalked it off as it being in the heat of the moment kinda thing, but he’s been consistently catching Ghost’s eye staring at him from a distance away, just staring, with that strange look in his eye. Not always with the same emotion, Soap guesses, but still. It’s close enough. He doesnt know what’s happening, or what he did, but something changed. And it’s driving him insane. It’s not that Ghost wasn’t already friendly in his own weird ghost way, but now he’s being friendly in a normal way.

It’s so weird.

He’ll be waiting at the gun range for Soap like he knows he’d appear there, toss him an apple when he feels peckish, slap his hand away when he needs to change bandages muttering something about him not doing it properly. It’s weird, and it’s nice, and it’s making soap feel all itchy and hot. he can’t even scratch himself anymore as a soothing tick, Ghost will just slap his hand away and grumble a “stop that.”

It’s weird, and soap can’t help but enjoy it.

He feels a bit selfish, feeling like he’s somehow taking advantage of ghost’s kindness, but for what? He’s feeling guilty but what exactly is he being selfish about? Maybe a mental checkup is in order, he’s losing his mind a bit. They’re friends, that’s all. It’s not…that unheard of that ghost would have friends, isn’t it? He should feel honoured to be his…fist? Again, Soap doesn’t know a lot about him.

Time passes. He dips his toes in guerrilla warfare for the first time, can’t say he’s a fan. Been backstabbed, shot, and survived. Hes earned his nickname, and sticks by it. (Hah) Though thick and thin, Ghost’s been there throughout it all. An angel guiding him to the churches, a leader who he would follow to the pits of hell, a friend when he needed one. After all that, the questions just never seemed to slow down. About his family, himself, his hobbies… to keep him awake, to pass the time, just whenever. Mostly Soap would get grumbles and short answers, proper sentences if he’s in the mood (which is all the time) or drunk enough. He’s flustered under all the attention and he knows it, itching beneath the helmet and the layers of armour. Soap is brash, and loud, and a little bit of a pyromaniac. He knows it. He’s fine with it. All jagged edges, no slowing down in sight. He doesnt know what to do with the change coming. He does the only thing he knows to do. He runs. After all of it is said and done, with makarov in the streets now, not much is to be done other than waiting for further instruction.

Applies leave for a few days, rented a airbnb online, have some alone time. Reset. Easy. Simple. Hes done this all his life. But when he was just about to slip out, Ghost suddenly appeared right in front of him.

“Gah- Jesus, fuck, ghost. What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I am. You signed off on the papers.”

“Why?”

“Just…some time. To myself.”

“Is that it?”

“…yeah?” What else does he want me to say?

Ghost looks like he.. squirms a bit, which is weird. Ghost doesn’t squirm.

“Just… the countryside. And stuff.” This is the worst casual conversation he’s ever had with Ghost.

“Um… i got you something.” Then he’s holding something out.

“Huh? Really- this is a rock.” What the fuck.

“It’s a rock from Las Almas.”

“You… kept a rock. From Las Almas. What, you couldn’t have stopped by an actual gift shop just around the corner? I think i saw one right around where i found your knife lodged into-”

“-You done yet?” He snaps.

“Apparently not, sir. You wanna explain the rock?” Soap’s being a bitch.

“Just that… you’re going to be alone… and. Makarov.”

“It’s a legitimate place, ghost. you wont find anyone there.”

“Not just that, it’s like-” He groans slightly and scratches the back of his head. “You’re going to be alone, and the last time you were alone..”

Oh.

“It’s just a reminder that like, I wasn’t going to give it to you this soon but, i was there. With you. You weren’t truly alone, johnny. And.. you’re going to be alone now. Actually alone. And i just….its. I’m here. At Redhill. I’m going to be here. You know where to find me.”

You’ve got me, haven’t ya?

Oh shit.

Soap doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the tip of his ears burning, pricking down his cheeks and flush down his neck. He doesnt know how to stand properly, what to say, how to think. Because everything he;s thinking right now should not be applied to his lieutenant.

This doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t change anything. It’s still the same. Soap knows that Ghost cares about him. He’s his Sargent. He’s his Sargent. But not in that way. They’re friends. The rock from Las Almas. He’s fine. They’re fine. It’s just like the rock is a physical manifestation and real evidence that Ghost may or may not like him. Jesus, he shouldn’t think like that. He’s too quiet. He should say something. His lips twitch.

“Thank you.” THAT’S IT?? SAY MORE.

“I’ll know where to look, then.” Soap gives the most half flustered, half assed smile he’s ever given to anyone. He cant even begin to imagine how he looks right now. His heart pulls. Ghost looks away. He feels like he’s going to be swept off his feet in a bad (good) way.

“Right then.” He clears his throat, disappearing down the corner of the hallway. Soap gapes as he stares after him. What was that? What was him? What? He looks down at the heavier-than-it should-look rock in his sweaty palms, and swallows.

This doesn’t change anything. They’re still working together. They’re the lieutenant and Sargent of the 141 Taskforce. He’s fine. They’re fine.

Everything is okay.

[knightcharlotte]

Space au rae

Rae dress is based on padme’s lake dress from Star Wars and the ship uniform is based on startrek ^^

[jonny-b-meowborn]

i screen recorded this clip because I'm so so so abnormal about it. wuhhghhhhhbbhrhrggrgrgr

[detweilerboy]

Twin Threads is a 2021 crime thriller film written and directed by Shelley Parker-Chan. The film follows a group of young assassins, lead by Zhu Yuanzhang, sent to eliminate the heir to a rival criminal syndicate. Between them and their target stands Ouyang, a bodyguard with a mysterious past and conflicting loyalties.

From left to right: Ouyang & Zhu, Wang Baoxiang, Esen, Ma Xiuying, Xu Da and Chang Yuchun

I ended up leaning more into the noir poster aesthetic than I originally planned so I changed things around in regards to this AU. Noir isn't a particularly Chinese genre for historical reasons, but there are a few contemporary mainland Chinese neo noirs (I recommend Black Coal, Thin Ice). The contemporary western neo noir on the other hand is heavily inspired by Hong Kong action cinema, or East Asian action/crime cinema in general.

This AU turned into a love letter for Raymond Chandler (in spirit and fic writing that started this whole project), Hong Kong action thrillers, especially Johnnie To films but John Woo, Tsui Hark and Ringo Lam as well. Not a small part of this is also stolen from Wong Kar-wai, as well as the film Infernal Affairs.

The poster here owes more to classic noir posters as well as Takeshi Kitano's yakuza movies but also City on Fire (and Reservoir Dogs). But Johnnie To's The Mission, Election and Exiled have black and red color schemes as well.

Consider this a movie that probably wouldn't exist but is pulling from a pool influences between East & West and is just stuff i think is cool. Organized crime AU because it is a way to write a modern AU that keeps the brutality and violence of the original, as well as the pressure of hierarchy and tradition & games of thrones.

[evilminji]

Back at it again~! With my PIDM Wife-OC Thoughts!

A SI-OC obviously, because I am a sucker for that "stranger in a strange but familiar land" vibe! It's about the subtle sense of alienation, you know? This is not your heaven, not your earth. Not your sky, not your stars.

Not even... in fact, your body.

You Do Not Belong.

And yet... you remain. Persist. Struggle, as all life does, to find both happiness and purpose. A stranger here. A thief. Unwilling, yes. But cast into stolen goods regardless. Forced to live out the rest of their life, for them. Forever to wonder... DID you steal it? Or did they die? Did you merely pick up what was already cast aside? Would they forgive you? Can they?

Does it matter?

That's GOOD SHIT! Love me some exploration of Self! Of Identity!

And? It's made SO MUCH BETTER? I realized? If you become a Nameless Wife Charater!

'Cause here me out! In the beginning~☆ They were named characters. Had personalized stories. Personalities for the readers and Binghe to remember. But as the numbers grew and grew? They became Beauties. Flowers.

Fetishes.

That one is the cat girl wife. This one is the milf. Over there is the one with the nice feet. He fucks, he marries, he promptly forgets. Except when he wants something, of course. The consent of half those marriages? Shakey at best! Fuck or Die scenarios. False promises. Altered states of mind!

It's everything about being a Woman, historically, on steroids.

You are nothing but a vessel for your husband's power and pleasure. Again, remebered as a fetish. That intimate, private, thing that you shared with someone who you thought you love... who you thought loved YOU? Becoming all you are and all your known for.

The tits ones. The one who does that thing with her tounge. The freaky one, who likes to-

It's a pretty, gilded, hell on earth. And you've already shown up too late. Story's over. Except! No it's NOT. Because the author is a hack. And is dragging it all out! There is nothing but needless drama, torture porn, and ACTUAL porn for decades to come!

What do you DO?

The woman you were... ARE now, didn't survive her God awful Fuck or Die scenario. Not really. Maybe if the Protagonist still CARED she might have. If he had moved to help FASTER. But he's grown so jaded, so cold, he took too long. She died and he never noticed. You took her place and he never knew her well enough to tell the difference.

Can you even call that "courtship"? We fucked. Congrats, you're married?

Are... are you supposed to LOVE him now? Treat him like a spouse? You KNOW how you would treat a spouse. But that was always assuming either monogamy or failing that? A REASONABLE number of other spouses! Like "could fit at the same average sized table" number! THIS? This isn't a marriage. It's a legion. You've been literally fucking conscripted! Heavy emphasis on the fucking part!!

Do they expect you to, what? Sign up to the fuck roster? Wait eagerly for your turn, being used and tossed aside? To dream of the day a man you barely know, slips into your bed again? To mess you up with his INFAMOUSLY HUGE MONSTER COCK?!

Are all of you FUCKING INSANE!?

But that's the thing? Isn't it? SI-OC is trapped in a porn logic horror movie. And the monster is both her fellow victims... AND their Husband. Harem infighting takes no prisoners. None of these women will EVER believe you don't secretly want Husband's undivided love and attention. The POWER that comes with it.

And? Worst of all? The reasonable reaction of "THE FUCK?! Get away from me!" Even if cautiously implemented? RIGHT after he has "Won" a new bride? In that BRIEF moment before he near completely forgets she exists beyond a number and few base facts?

That's like waving a bag of treats in front of a bored dog. Ears come up, attention? Grabbed. The unfortunate combo of his traumas, neuroses, demonic instincts, and sadomasochism all blending together into history's most unfortunate paste. The more you DONT want him to pay attention to you and to go the fuck away? The more he NEEDS you to love him. Worship him. Pay ATTENTION to him.

It's the Shizun issues. Which are Daddy/Mommy issues(extended edition).

So OBVIOUSLY? SI-OC needs to LOVE him. And he's gonna haunt her like the horror movie monster he is until she does. He has literal Gu in her blood. He can track her anywhere. MAKE her feel any physical sensation he pleases. Pain? Easy. Pleasure? Even easier. Why NOT try an condition her to love him?

Morals? Boundaries? "Because that's deeply fucked up?"

Ha ha... So?

Reading about a character like PIDM Luo Binghe and MEETING a character are wildly different experiences. One? Is fantasy. Mere escapism. Trashy porn with a cool character or two. The OTHER? Is deeply, DEEPLY and viscerally horrifying.

It's the difference between the naughty and transgression fanasties we might have in private... and the Actual Serial Killar who traps us in a shed.

THEN?

Mr. UNHINGED? Meets Nice Shizun™. And it ALL goes to SHIT. Very, very fast.

Cause, see, before? BEFORE? Bingge didn't KNOW what he wanted. He was just gathering everything. All of it. For himself. In the vain hope it might finally fix why he's unhappy. That he might be able to hold on to those brief little highs, that he got from victory. From sex.

But NOW? Oh NOW he KNOWS what he wants. He wants Nice Shizun. Nice Wives. Not a BIG number but a CONCENTRATED amount of adoration. He realizes he's been going at this the wrong way. So?

Spring cleaning.

He has a specific vision of what he wants. And if YOU have to die for him to get it? That's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

All those women. Trapped. Reduced to "beauties", "flowers", and fetishs. People who had hopes and dreams. Ambitions of their own. Who were so much MORE then their appearances and ability to be fucked. Dying. Day after day after day. This one not "kind" enough. That one doesn't smile right. She was too cold, too awkward, too proud. Dead, dead, dead.

Why are you crying? We're going to be so happy~!

A story that starts at the End. In hell. All those Wive's family's rightfully seeking justice. Getting caught in the crossfire. Because... because she is so tired. Because there are younger wives behind her. Because she has already died before.

Maybe this time will be kinder.

(That poor man. The warrior who shot her. She knew his sister. He... he looked so horrified. He didn't mean to hurt her. She forgives him. She... for..give..s...hi..m)

Waking up in SVSSS.

Indeed, the next life IS kinder. The System apologizes for the poor integration! She was SUPPOSED to awaken during the EARLY days of PIDM. Become a Main Wife! Help the story reach its full potential! However, PIDM was mistakenly categorized as "simple fix"! And handed over to a Beginner System.

It... is NOT.

(And even if it WAS, you put the User in the WRONG PART OF THE PLOT! *mechanical whacking noise*)

So~! Please enjoy this Journey Of Healing Side Plot~~☆ (yaaaay! Woooo! *confetti* pls don't be upseeeeeet~☆! Ha ha...) in which you, the User, will go one wonderful journey of Healing~☆!

..........is this a bribe? (Yes! It absolutely is! Please have some extra points, valued customer!) She... will take that bribe. Pleasure doing business with you. Kindly keep Crazy Pants away from her.

So NOW? We have Two camps. Team "fuckers, I DID MY TIME" over here in her SECOND-second run. Having her lovely, supportive System and slice of Life exploration of the world. And the OTHER two reincarnators who are all "wtf? That's not fair! Why does wife 453 get that but I dont?"

Ha! MAYBE?? BECAUSE she had to live as the woman remembered, even by YOU Mr. SUPER FAN and THE ACTUAL AUTHOR, as "Wife 453"! Tell me? What. Was? MY? NAME!? Hmm? Not my tit size, not what he did to me in bed, not what he thought of me naked, MY NAME. What was my favorite color? What I hoped to achieve in life?

The part where I KNOWINGLY and CONSENSUALLY agreed to marry that man.

Make Mr. "Everyone's gay for Binghe, who WOULDN'T want to marry him?" Face that... yeah, some of them DIDN'T. Make Airplane look into the face of all the women he condemned, however unknowingly. Let them look upon a kind face that STILL shows no sympathy, that says onto to them "the only way through hell, is to keep walking. Stop complaining."

Still ends up with Tianlang-jun though. Because she emphasizes HARD with being trapped for no reason. And being on the "wrong" side of the narrative, going down with the ship? There is a peace to that. At least this time... SHE chose her fate.

And Tianlang-jun doesn't want to fuck her.

They both got Trauma™ around that. Intimacy directly lead to the worst events of their lives. So like... how bout a cuddle. Everybody keeps their clothes on. He's a god damned mushroom, ffs. They are GOING THROUGH IT. But! They are GETTING through it.

Old married couple vibes. Except they are both literally NEVER getting married again, so help them gods. Because, Again, Trauma. So like... Tired Sassy Immortals who read bad porn together and their beleaguered Snake son. Hang out in a crypt.

AND THEN BINGGE SHOWS UP.

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @leftnotright @lolottes

[nezz-cringe-crib]

unironically if food wars didn't have all the "adult stuff" in it the show would be great for a tween/teen audience.

soma yukihira is unironically the strongest protagonist i've seen in anime and he looks like this half the time.

but i mean it though. i've only made it to half of season 3 so far but his mentality throughout the show is really strong and is genuinely great role model. he never takes his anger out on people; he puts all of it into his performance and uses that against his opponents. not only does this improve his skills but also he continues to have respect for each of his opponents despite them putting him through hell almost every episode. no matter how much his peers shit talk him he doesn't ever stop reaching for his goals. he just uses their shit talk as a way to get there faster.

on top of that he also takes losses really well which i feel like is something that should be taught more in media as a whole? he's an example of the fact that it's okay to lose, and that it's not even really a loss so long as you learn something from it and use it as a means to reflect on yourself. it's a really simple message on the surface but it's really important and something that a lot of people tend to forget since i could count about 20 people who would benefit from understanding a lesson like that.

also it makes cooking cool.

do you know how hard it is to make cooking look cool.

i was planning on living off microwavable food for the rest of my life and i totally would've done it if i didn't start watching food wars.

please revive the food wars fandom that show is genuinely amazing please guys.

[stygiansauce]

Unsportsmanlike Conduct

Series: cross our sticks and hope to die Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series Hermitcraft SMP Empires SMP

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive warnings apply

Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek, Kerlis/ xBCrafted, Background Relationship(s)

Characters: Jimmy | Solidairy, TangoTek (Video Blogging RPF), xBcrafted (Video Blogging RPF), Keralis, Grian, Skizzleman (Video Blogging RPF), Pearl | PearlescentMoon, Welsknight (Video Blogging RPF), ImpulseSV (Video Blogging RPF), BdoubleO100, Empires SMP Ensemble, Hermitcraft Ensemble

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe- Hockey, Angst and fluff and smut, fist fighting, themes on anger, hate sex (but not really?) inappropriate use of locker room (Read AO3 Tags carefully <3)

Summary:

“Wow!” Keralis laughs, though the situation isn’t very funny, “The referee is not playing around today. Ejection from both teams for unsportsmanlike conduct.” 

XB shakes his head, watching the players complain. The captain of the Canaries is disputing but Solidarity is already off the ice, fuming.

“It’s common to see fights on the ice,” he starts, drawing on his own messy experiences, “but that was nasty. I haven’t seen a hook with that much power in years.” 

Keralis cocks his head to the side and changes the camera they’re looking at. He clicks a few buttons that XB has never seen him use, then he’s laughing again. The camera zooms in on Tek. He’s grinning, blood pouring from his nose as a rink manager forces him out of the arena. His eyes are wild and bright, like he enjoyed getting beat into the ice.

“That was some crazy foreplay.” Keralis giggles. Again, as if they aren’t live broadcasting to the entire city. 

“I don’t think—”

Or; After a fight on the ice, Jimmy and Tango continue their argument in the locker room.

Read on AO3

[i-am-not-phoenix-wright]

implosion by…. suffocation..?

…

just for me, do you want to shout “Hold it!” and ask what that means?

y’know, guess it couldn’t hurt to have the prosecution explain some more!

HOLD IT!

Wrong: What did you mean “implosion by suffocation” ?

Edgeworth: The victim’s body was found with a not-insubstantial amount of blood and bile blocking her throat and lungs.

Maya: yeesh… you sure we should be talking about this infront of 3 little girls..?

Edgeworth: Among other descriptors, there appears to be no bodily bruising from an outside source, but there was simply too much in the way to search through her body for anything consumed.

Wrong: … too much of .. what exactly?

Edgeworth: … well we can INFER it was the bile and blood.

Wrong: … Buuut..?

Maya: But what? Its bile and blood!

Wrong: no, there has to be more than that.

Edgeworth: …

Maya: … more..?

Wrong: (UGH. It would be so much easier to explain why it is but…)

Wrong: (sigh… i’m literally being BLOCKED from telling why.)

Wrong: well this is getting me nowhere.

[iicaru2]

working on a beast au fic and a canon universe fic at the same time is fun because whenever i’m writing the beast au fic and miss sskk’s constant extremely inconvenient mating ritual of fight flirting at every opportunity, i can switch over to the canon universe fic and have them get into a petty screaming match for no reason. then when i miss them being cute i switch over to beast au because while theres still bicker flirting (who would they be without it) i can have them Actually get along. riveting

[nixcloud]

Jiang Cheng x Lan Xichen ABO drabble

just a little scene from a fic im drafting ~

He could hear the threads cracking beneath his fist as he yanked Wei Wuxian higher off the ground. Two tanned hands tapped at his own where he gripped the collar of those black robes. His brother had always had a talent for provoking him, and he couldn’t even remember how this argument started. Still, rage coiled hot in his gut. Zidian crackled at his wrist. His jaw ached from how tightly his teeth were clenched, barely holding back the vitriol he so desperately wanted to spit out.

The red anger clouding his vision only beginning to clear when he saw the semi glassy look of Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Jiang cheng took in the face of his brother, he had noticed too late the way his cheeks were slightly too pale, and the way redness was starting to tinge his under eyes. Too late, he realized this fight had long since veered from an argument between brothers.

When they were younger, Jiang Cheng was excellent at recognizing this look. Even when he pushed too hard, even when he refused to stop yelling, he knew when his brother was actually hurting. Sad. Never quite able to hide this from his shidi. 

But in this new body, he was slow to pick up on it, Jiang cheng released Wei Wuxian’s robes like he had been burned. 

Watching as he dropped onto the ground awkwardly. A pit growing in his stomach as he looked down at the man he had spent his whole childhood looking up at to yell. 

Suddenly Jiang Cheng felt small again. And all that irritated rage that had been bubbling up boiled over into a new rage. The hurt rage, the painful rage that was attached to blood and family. 

None of this would’ve happened if Wei Wuxian hadn’t invited him to Gusu.

The letter had arrived a week ago, scrawled in that messy handwriting. Jiang Cheng couldn't fault the man for at least attempting the impossible. Wei Wuxian wrote almost weekly since returning from the dead. Usually fickle stories of  night hunts, or rules he broke in Gusu. Occasionally he would include a nostalgic paragraph or two. Or ask after the Jiang clan. 

But this letter had been different. A request to come to Gusu. Not for a day or two like they'd attempted in the past, but for an entire month.

A joint night hunt conference. To be co-hosted by the Lan clan and the Jiang clan. A project designed, apparently, to "strengthen inter-sect bonds" after everything that had happened at Guanyin Temple. (Lan Wangji's words, no doubt.)

It made sense on paper. In the 2 years since the fall of Jin Guangyao the sects had been unstable. Trust was in short supply. Every alliance frayed thin, each one questioning which seemingly docile omega or outspoken alpha was hiding darker intentions.

But logic didn’t account for emotion. And Jiang Cheng had written back immediately: No. That the Lan sect could deal with a conference themselves. 

But in the coming days mail carriers from Gusu rained down on lotus pier, each with more letters then the last. And in a moment of weakness… here they were. 

The deal had been: Gusu this year, Lotus Pier the next. If, of course, they didn’t kill each other first.

“Jiang Cheng, look, why don’t you just—”

His voice grated against him. Of course his idiot brother couldn't shut his mouth even when he was already upset. Trying to smooth things over as if he wasn't the one that started this whole thing. 

Jiang cheng was trying not to completely lose his temper, he had always been quick to anger. But ever since he started raising Jin Ling he had made at least an effort to rein the worst of his outbursts in. Sometimes more successful than others. But in the last few months he was uncalmable, and now he could feel his throat straining as he yelled back 

“Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. “Don’t stand there pretending you're so calm, so fucking reasonable! You don’t know anything about—”

The redness under his brother's eyes only intensified but he stood still, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. 

And that made it worse.

Because somehow, somehow, his impulsive once alpha brother, revived as an omega for fuck’s sake, was still calmer than him. More controlled. More stable. Able to keep a better handle on his emotions and omega instincts then Jiang Cheng ever could and he's been an omega his whole life! 

Though he supposed (from what he's been taught) that mated omegas, especially those who were blessed enough to find their fated mate, had a much easier time regulating their instincts. And his brother, his brother whose fate is of the utmost convoluted nature ended up with both. While Jiang Cheng, was struggling with his suppressant regime as the last barrier between himself and the cultivation world. 

It's not that omegas couldn't be cultivators, in fact omegas had potential to be some of the strongest cultivators, much more so then a common beta, whose senses were so much weaker it made most nighthunts, and connections with the spiritual world twice as difficult. But omega’s were rarely allowed the dignity of authority. Omegas were those who bore legacy, those who kept morale high, those whose life cumulated with serving and soothing those more dominant then them. 

So when the Jiang’s had their first son, they’d hoped for an alpha. After their beta daughter, they’d prayed for a leader. But Jiang Cheng had presented early at fourteen, just after his brother, and his father had never looked at him the same again.

His mother, in her attempt at his best interest, had wasted no time. She locked him in his room with a jar of suppressants and strict instructions: Take it with a meal each morning. No exceptions, no missed days, no mistakes. 

And he obeyed. Every day, for well over a decade. Long past when anyone said it was safe. A medication frowned upon by the cultivation world. He obeyed and he pushed down every omegan instinct until everything inside him went silent. 

And it was for this reason that he couldn’t be surprised that after so much medicinal abuse of his instincts, all his hormones were out of sorts. His inner omega clawing out of its cage.

It was rage, it was volatile mood swings, exstream territorial tendencies, it was textbook feral omega. He had grown up with children teasing each other about it, or claiming an omega was so unwanted that they'd go feral, that no one could ever want a feral omega. And here he was actively creating one in the privacy of his own body. 

He never resented this choice, knew it would give him the life his parents wanted. It had allowed him to be an unquestioned sect leader, even if he was underestimated as a beta and not an alpha. So then why, why had he been feeling so damn lonely lately? 

His brother came back, his pack alive again, and all he felt was lonely. 

That first year, he’d ignored every letter out of spite. Lan Wangji hated him, and he hadn’t trusted Wei Wuxian not to leave again. But over time, he responded. Small missives. A visit or two. The beginnings of something like family again.

But no matter how angry he was, or how guilty he felt, Wei Wuxian kept reaching out to him. Trying desperately to make a spot for one and other in their lives. 

And fate might have other plans for them both but he could try, and so he was feeling particularly lonely when that ridiculous night hunt proposal arrived, and he came to Gusu

And all that came of it was this bullshit. 

The dust swirled beneath his boots as Jiang Cheng surged forward, shoving Wei Wuxian hard. He watched his brother stumble back. A frustrating wetness started to gather at the corner of his purple eyes.

And then, a growl. 

The commanding, cold, terrifying growl of an alpha who's been wronged. 

Suddenly a large hand wrapped around Jiang Cheng’s arm and yanked him backward. 

“Sect leader Jiang.” Lan Wangji’s voice was deceptively calm. If it weren't for the way his eyes glowed gold, the way all lan alphas did when their instincts were taking charge, Jiang Cheng might have mistook it for his regular speaking voice. 

Something in the back of his mind wanted to cower, but Jiang Cheng is one of the strongest sect leaders, he is a proud beta, the purple lightning protecting his people, and he will not bow to any Lan. Zidan crackled defensively at his wrist. 

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!”

Wei Wuxian’s light hearted calling broke the static, the way his voice shook on the last word the only thing that gave away their reality. 

“It’s okay! Don’t get so upset, it’s just my little shidi. I teased him too much, that’s all! Just let him go!”

His little act of talking down his husband should have soothed him, and yet it only added more fuel to the fire. Jiang Cheng wanted to scream, and cry and stomp his feet like a petulant child. Because his once dead brother was still doing everything to protect him. Even when he knew that Jiang Cheng was the one to start this fight. 

On top of it all, for anyone, even a betta, to put their hands on a mated omega, that was grounds for a duel. At minimum. 

An apology wasn't on his tongue, but whatever was was beginning to taste like regret. He met Lan Wangji’s gaze, intent to speak, when—

“Enough.”

A new voice. Calm. Commanding. Soothing.

Lan Xichen.

Unlike his younger brother who moved with near deadly silence, most of the time one knew when Lan Xichen was coming. His clothes rustled like the wind stirring grass. And the jade token tied at his waist chiming softly with the few beads strung below it, so delicate it was almost as soothing as Jiang Cheng’s own clarity bell. 

Still Jiang cheng startled, blinking in disbelief at the looming ethereal presence before him. Of course, this was the Lan compound. And Lan Xichen was still their sect leader, technically. But as far as Jiang Cheng knew the older Lan had been in seclusion. For years. And yet here he was luminous, and composed,  and incharge. 

The iron grip on Jiang Cheng’s arm finally loosened, and he yanked it free, clenching his fists.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Wangji said, voice sharp as a blade, “It would be best if you joined Xiongzhang in the library.”

“Fine.” Jiang Cheng grit out, before storming past him, barely missing knocking shoulders with the taller man. And he didn't stop to look at Lan Xichen as he passed him either. He didn't have any patience left for niceties. 

His boots struck the ground hard, each step disturbing the tranquil Gusu afternoon. But he wasn’t walking alone. Every one of his steps was being punctuated with that quiet chime of Lan Xichen in the distance. 

Slowly allowing the noise to settle his riled omega instincts until he finally reached the library pavilion.

“Allow me, Jiang Zongzhu,” came that voice again, deep and calm like heavy snowfall. Refreshing in the afternoon heat.  

And he finds himself stepping aside without protest. The larger man opened the door, welcoming him into the cool quiet library. It had been a long time since he was here, and it had changed so much since he was a child, both the building and what it contained. But it still smelled like sandalwood, and it still dwarfed any library Lotus Pier had ever built. 

Lan Xichen led them to a low table at the center of the room and gestured for Jiang Cheng to sit across from him. Watching carefully as those large hands began to pour him a cup of tea. 

He hadn't seen the older man in nearly two years and yet he looked much the same. His robes hung in soft layers over his broad shoulders. Carefully continuing their slope into muscular forearms. He kept his posture perfectly straight emphasising how tall he was even among the Lan’s.  His silky black hair had been brushed into a simpler hairstyle then Jiang Cheng remembered of him, but it still cascaded carefully around him, framing his form in all its Lan perfection.

And yet something was different.

His beautiful face graced by his sharp jaw, soft lips and surprisingly gentle eyes, was drawn thinner than Jiang Cheng remembered. Lan Xichen looked so much more tired than the man he had grown familiar with over the years. It aged him slightly, and yet reminded Jiang Cheng too much of his face during the reign of the Wen. Slightly too hollow. Slightly… unsettling. 

Jiang Cheng chewed the inside of his cheek to keep his opinions on this to himself. He didn't like it. But after everything that had happened, what else could he have expected? He hadn’t even expected to lay eyes on the man.

“I was surprised,” Lan Xichen finally spoke, “to hear you agreed to co-plan this night hunt with us.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes snapped back to the soft gold ones, embarrassed to realize he’d definitely been caught letting his gaze roam over every inch of the older man.

“Obviously I didn’t easily agree so much as get pestered into it,” he said sharply, chin lifting. 

Lan Xichen chuckled softly. “Don’t take it the wrong way,” he said, an unreadable glint in his eye. “It’s good to see a familiar face. Especially after so long in seclusion.”

“I hadn’t known you left it.”

“I haven’t left it entirely,” Lan Xichen replied, with the ghost of a smile. “Partial seclusion. I can still manage writing invitations, at least. Especially if Jiang-zongzhu is willing to assist me.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth felt inexplicably dry. “Well. Let’s get it over with, then.”

He stretched a scroll of parchment out in front of himself, dipping his brush into the inkstone while Lan Xichen murmured the phrasing for each letter. They worked in companionable silence, copying names and titles with practiced strokes. Though if it were a competition, Jiang Cheng would have lost because just like all other pristine elements of the lan clan, their writing was obnoxiously perfect. 

They scripted out invitation after invitation. And Jiang Cheng couldn't help but let his mind wander, every few words his thoughts turned back to the man across from him, the shock of his presence yet to wear off. 

Sometimes when he had nightmares of his past, the face Lan Xichen made that night would linger in his mind too. The pain, the blood on his sword, the way he crumpled into a broken mess when all was said and through. The love of his life murdered at his own hand. 

Jiang Cheng had been quietly watching Lan Xichen his whole life, from the respectful distance of allied sects, from across conference halls, from the desks of Cloud Recess's lecture hall.  So it would have been hard to miss the way the older man looked so fondly upon the Jin disciple. 

Everyone had known, or at least suspected, that Lan Xichen had loved Jin Guangyao. Many whispered that they had been secretly mated, that Jin Guangyao simply hid the mark beneath the high collar of his robes. They always sought each other in a crowd. Leaned close when they spoke. And the great and honorable Zewu-jun would never tolerate a harsh or damning word against his sworn brother.

Jin Guangyao had been an omega. Loyal to his sect. And so, there was never any true way to marry outside his clan and preserve his dignity. Or at least that’s what everyone thought. Still, many expected them to eventually go public. A dominant alpha so clearly enamored with a brilliant, hospitable omega, an ideal mating.

But then everything happened at once. In the blink of an eye, Jin Guangyao was no longer  the son of a prostitute but a sect leader. With power came the need for image, and he took a wife. Untraditionally, it was another omega, raising eyebrows but also preventing any power imbalance. They seemed happy together. And to be honest although uncommon for two omegas to be together formally, it was more acceptable then two alphas, or an unmated omega, and so most did not question him too harshly. 

And in an even more unconventional show he bonded with her, and she had shown off her mark proudly like any sect leader's wife might. No one ever knew if his wife bit him back as was custom with omegas. He still wore his collars too tight, too high.

A gap between Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao seemed to grow and grow. Still Jin Guangyao looked happy in any public appearance, and Lan Xichen never showed interest in another omega or even beta. 

So when Jin Guangyao was exposed as a traitor, a murderer, and, in the end, was killed by the one man he claimed he would never harm… it wasn’t surprising that Lan Xichen retreated into seclusion.

It was said that a broken bond  between mates, especially soulmates, was an empty kind of grief. It left one split open and bleeding for one's whole life. There were ancient tales of fated mates dying in succession. It was always a romantic idea, to live and die with your love. But the reality of it was so much more bitter. 

Many feared Lan Xichen would waste away after the fall of Lianfang-zun. And in some ways, he had. Yet here he was. Very much alive. Sitting at this low table across him.

Jiang Cheng chose to blame his perseverance on his strong golden core and Lan will power. 

Well over an hour passed, and they’d finished the invitations for the major sects. For a while now Lan Xichen had been musing over who else he thought should receive an invite. Weighing pros and cons of different peoples from all over their lands. But to be honest Jiang Cheng hadn't been paying much attention to him since he mentioned the Jin clan maybe half an incessant stick ago. Just nodding and watching the way his lips formed around his words. 

“Zewu-jun. It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.” The words spilled out of him unbidden, and he realized too late that he had cut Lan Xichen off mid-sentence. That little surprised “o” of his mouth confirmed it. 

A red blush crept up Jiang Cheng’s neck at his own rudeness.They stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment before Lan Xichen’s expression warmed again. 

“Thank you. It has been too long, hasn’t it?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Wangji asked me to help plan this conference. And, ah… I couldn’t say no to my little brother.”

Jiang Cheng huffed and sat back, forcing his eyes onto the half finished scroll in front of him. “Well then it seems we have something in common then. Except my insufferable brother didn’t ask. He sent a dozen damn letters like it was some kind of hostage negotiation.” he slapped his hand down on the table jostling their discarded brushed “And stop smiling like that,” he added, sharper than necessary. “This isn’t some grand reunion. We're working.”

Lan Xichen smiled at him then too, expression out of place with how rude Jiang Cheng knew he came off. But soon they were back to discussing whom to invite, and inking more letters, working together in comfortable quiet as the sun plunged from the sky.  Making way for the cold light of the stars. 

Only interacting when one passed a complete invitation across the table for the other sect leader to stamp on their official clan insignia before folding it neatly into the pile for couriers.

And maybe it was his imagination, but Jiang Cheng was fairly certain that as he worked those gold eyes were burning holes into him, and began glowing when they passed the other a letter and their hands brushed.

authors note: tried to write a abo smut scene ended up with this character study tragic siblings monstrosity with 16 pages of plot bullet points.... gona try and actually write it all. i have 15 scenes plotted out and this is just the first one so who knows if ill finish but for now. xicheng abo characters study i guess

[larix-laricina]

ok i got home and basically spent the entire afternoon thinking about the au. so uhhhh,,, here's some character sketches and notes

(click it for better quality cuz TUMBLR FUCKIN HATES ME OH MY GOD WHY)

btw for context, MePhone gets kicked out of Meeple headquarters for failing a mission near the start of the story. that's basically his drive, he wants to prove he's a good hunter so he'll be let back in and get his old life back. (bad idea lmao) (it does NOT end up going the way he wants to)

[yinyans-sideblog]

Before Cake could respond, her lights blinked with a new yellow glow. Yellow hollow optics scanned the area, panic edged into her face her tail kinked up into a knot.

A tall drone approached the spire, her purple optics scanning it before walking closer and popping her head in.

"Hello?" She called out, continuing to look around.

@yinyans-sideblog

Yellow eyes blinked back.

"...Hello."

J said, coming out of the Spire.

[princelyprisms]

Where have I seen this before...

...