#and imagine calling PIERS stupid in your post

[fonulyn]

jesus fucking christ this fandom. one more time: Piers did not put Chris back in the field in RE6. Piers does not have that sort of an authority. who the hell assumes that he has the actual power to put his own commanding officer back on active duty??? anyone with half a fucking braincell should realize that is not how shit works. yet the amount of "uwu omg i hate piers he did chris so dirty!!1!1" posts I've seen here is STAGGERING. blaming Piers for clearing Chris back to work, blaming Piers for the lives Chris lost with his recklessness? nope. get out of here. get out of my sight.

[johaerys-writes]

just saw ur post and u should definitely give 'Casual' by Chappell Roan a listen!!

Aaaaahh FUCK I love it so much this will become my new obsession I just know it 😩

My friends call me a loser

'Cause I'm still hanging around

I've heard so many rumors

That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

I thought you thought of me better

Someone you couldn't lose

You said, "We're not together"

So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

You said, "Baby, no attachment"

But we're

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out

Is it casual now?

And:

Dumb love, I love being stupid

Dream of us in a year

Maybe we'd have an apartment

And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

I know, "Baby, no attachment"

I loooove how this makes me think both of BBB!Patroclus, who feels so disposable and left out of Achilles' life where it matters, but also Disasters!Achilles after they drunkenly make out at the club and Pat is like "but we're still friends right?" the next day, and Achilles absolutely LOSES it 😂 just imagining him crying on Dei's shoulder afterwards and that song playing on repeat 🤣😭

[ssurveycorpss]

to the dearest anon who requested 3 letters for eren before i was struck down from my blog like hephaestus was struck down from olympus: i dont remember exactly which ones they were? but i'm pretty sure it was these three. im so sorry anonnie. (if youre seeing this, send an ask confirming/correcting me pls <3 i wanna make sure i got your request correct!) also this is the last one i received so if you requested something please send it over this way instead of my old blog.

hc game

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is so very affectionate. Eren feels like he needs to constantly remind you he loves you. It makes him feel safe and comforted, plus Eren has like... an excess of love for you that he needs to get out and the easiest way to let it out is by hugging and kissing you. Kinda like a dog when they run around because they haven't been walked.

Everyone knows you two are together because he is no stranger to PDA. The only people he kinda tones it down in front of is Mikasa, Historia, and maybe Annie (this annoys Armin to no end, he has to watch Eren snuggle you and do all this embarrassing stuff and the most Mikasa has to see is hand holding). He still tells every story of his love life to Historia though, and in exchange he has to listen to her talk about how cute Ymir is.

Honestly his affection levels start to go down the longer he knows you because he learns to become more subtle. Like when you first start dating he's throwing an arm around your waist and clinging to you like a koala while you study so you can pay attention to him (except he's not a koala he's a 6 foot something ripped dude and he's heavy!!!! And annoying!!! Bro chill!!!!!) but once you guys have been dating for a while he can just lay his head in your lap or be near you while you study in silence. He still loves you he's just less loud about his affection, more subtle and personal.

Eren likes routines and normalcy in his relationships. If you guys always hold hands to go to the dining hall for lunch, he expects you two to do that. If you forget he is freaking out. Kinda like how no matter how much he loves Jean he acts like he doesn't. The guy is like a brother to him but he feels like it's weird for them to stop bickering.

Also has a tendency to brag about you. Social media posts, casual conversation, showing someone something on his phone and making sure to unlock it in front of them so they can see a cute photo of you two, bringing up "my partner did-" in every conversation. Lowkey annoying but at the same time everyone finds it cute.

Kinda off topic but he is so annoying about you not saying I love you back or calling him like bro or anything that doesn't denote affection. If he says I love you and you don't say I love you back he will act like you stabbed him right there. If you call him bro or dude (he makes an exception sometimes if you kiss him after you say it because that is not like... bro, bro, that's like, bro [romantically]) he will not respond. He is your lover! Treat him as such. It also helps him stay grounded in the fact that you love him back.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Always there for you, no matter what you need. Selfless in his own very Eren way, which usually includes excessive amounts of impulsiveness and stupidity.

"You like so and so? Well why haven't you told them? I'll tell them, they like you back I just know it!"

You have to rush to get him to stop because he does not think before he acts. He tends to think in the long term which can be really irritating, but it's also quite adorable and honestly 99.9% of the time it works out, disregarding a couple bumps in the road.

Will listen to you talk about things you like even if he doesn't care for them. He finds it kind of his duty.

Good at keeping promises, he just takes a long time to do them. If he promises you french fries you'll get them it'll just be like 3 years later.

If you are Eren's friend and you like him don't even try to like... guess if he likes you back because he does not change at all when he starts to crush on someone. If you relationship starts off as flirty and he decides he doesn't really like you as much as he thought, he still flirts with you, it's just joke flirting now. If you guys start off as normal friends and he falls for you, he'll never try to flirt with you or anything. His life is already hectic enough, so he relies on his friendships and relationships for a sense of serenity. Despite this he has a tendency to fall for his friends so he's got it real rough.

Will never confess to you if you guys have a friends to lovers sort of arc. You've got to bear that burden. He can't even imagine losing you or making things awkward between him.

Enemies to lovers with Eren Jaeger means he will call you an idiot on your wedding day and then say I do 4 seconds later.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

god this is my shit

I feel like I'm just a broken record at this point but he's so passionate in his kisses. Like his love for you is all flowing out at once and he cannot stop it.

Kinda like fireworks. Fast and loud and colorful and one after another.

Teeth clacking. If you wear glasses they're gonna poke him. Awkward nose bumping that he laughs about before kissing you on the nose to make it all better.

He's kinda a rough kisser but it feels anything but rough. Like he's not particularly gentle with you or anything but it doesn't hurt at all it's just a lot all at once. Also he's a biter. They're not hard or painful bites but like he will chomp you on the neck while kissing you.

Likes neck kisses, literally just sit in his lap and let him nibble and kiss your neck while he hugs you really tight and his day is complete. Also likes kissing you on the lips but that's just a given. Those two are his go-to spots but honestly he will kiss you anywhere. Your chest, forehead, cheeks, thighs, stomach, whatever. He's not picky.

Likes to lay his head between your thighs and lean over and kiss them or blow raspberries on them.

Often says "I just wanna kiss you right now." or "Kiss me, dummy." or "Gimme kith." So so kissstarved help the poor man.

When you first start dating he tries to like plan out how to have an amazing first kiss with you and then it's just like completely ruined by his adrenaline and impulsivity. Like he was gonna take you out for dinner, walk you by the pier, kiss you by the moonlight, yada, yada, yada, but actually he just like got really excited at winning in an arcade game and went for it.

When he forgets to shave his stubble is so scratchy but unless you seriously get annoyed with him he will not stop kissing you just to shave you just have to deal with it. The more you complain the more he will bother you with it. He tends to stay clean shaven though.

Even as he grows "less affectionate" the longer you guys are together he will still take solace in kisses, they just become a bit slower and longer. He still has his moments of his inner fire sign coming out to just smother you but he's mellowed out quite a bit as you guys continue to be together.

EREN JUST REALLY LIKES KISSES OKAY I REST MY CASE

[c0s-lettuce]

cute - piers nivans x reader, part seven

writing (no social media in this part), female reader

a/n: i'm finally back with the last part! thanks for waiting for me! i never expected anyone to be interested in what i made. but i was wrong and i got to meet some of the coolest (and sometimes weirdest) people ever. so shout out to all the mutuals i've made and thanks to everyone who's ever interacted with my posts. you're all the best!

word count: 1896

warnings: minimal swearing, mentions of injury

p.s. also sorry this part is so long. i suck at planning. an epilogue will be coming out very soon!

< part six - masterlist - epilogue >

------

Was it a good idea to insert yourself into the investigation? Probably not. Is Chris going to kick your ass when he finds outs what you did? Definitely. But anything would be better than sitting at home, banned from work and waiting on others to fix your mistakes. Your source - a totally not questionable private eye - informed you that Daniel has been at O'Malley's Bar during late hours.

So here you are, sitting alone in a rather crummy booth, sipping on a drink that tasted too much like hand sanitizer. You've dressed up enough to blend in but not enough to stand out, lest a certain someone recognizes you. As you looked around, you thought, this is definitely the place to hide out. You don't imagine anyone here would question anything, from the lazy-looking patrons to the close-to-absent staff.

You hadn't seen Daniel yet, which is a good thing considering you haven't decided what you would do if you did see him. But it's also a bad thing because now you have time to do other, less pleasant things, like thinking.

So you think. Piers hasn't spoken to you since this whole situation started, and you don't yet have the guts to say something to him. And there's also the fact that he was definitely upset the last time you did speak, which wasn't even your fault. Or maybe it was.

More minutes pass until finally, a familiar face appears. Daniel walks out from behind the bar. Tensing up, you watch from the corner of the bar. He whispers something to the bartender, who nods in response. Then he promptly leaves the building.

Once he's gone, you walk closer to the bar and spot a door behind the shelves. That must be it. That must be where your answers lie.

You cause a quick distraction; you drop a glass on the floor. The bartender looks up, makes an irritated face and walks over to clean up the mess. With no one tending the bar and everyone else in the room who couldn't care less about the smashed glass, you make your way behind the bar and through the door.

A flight of stairs lies ahead. You head down and reach the bottom. Walking down the short corridor and around the corner, you're now in a small room. The place is like a bunker; it's dirty and dark, there are control panels, buttons and keyboards all over a desk, and half a dozen screens illuminate the space.

Your first thought is that you have to tell someone about this. Hastily pulling out your phone, you think to call Chris. But then you see a small green circle next to Piers' icon. He's awake right now.

You call him. To your luck, he picks up.

"What's wrong?" he asks, rather unenthusiastically.

At any other moment, you'd comment on his dull greeting. But not tonight.

"Don't get mad," you begin, "But I've been following Daniel, and I've found where he's been hiding."

"What?" he says with a lot more interest now. You hear shuffling on his end, "Where are you?"

"O'Malley's Bar, just downtown," you tell him.

"Jesus, ok. Stay where you are. Don't do anything stupid."

"Too late," you walk up to the desk, "I found a bunker with a ton of computers."

"Can you please just wait?" Piers urges you.

You shake the mouse, and the screen lights up. The Umbrella logo wallpaper is the first thing you see. Not surprising.

"It's Umbrella," you inform him.

You start looking through the tabs and windows. You find status reports and read through them.

"Just hold on for a second and-" Piers tries to say.

But you interrupt, "Holy shit..."

"What? What is it?" he asks.

You take a step back. Your heart drops as you stare at the screen. You reread the report, hoping you read it wrong. But you didn't.

"They're trying to recreate the T-Virus," you say.

Silence comes from the phone. Seconds later, you hear even louder shuffling, and Piers says, "Listen to me. Stop whatever you're doing and get out of there."

But you've already gone in too deep. Setting down your phone on the desk, you look through the rest of the windows. You find mountain loads of data all about the same thing, while Piers' pleas from your phone go unheard.

"So you finally found this place," a familiar voice says from behind.

You spin around. Daniel stands at the entrance.

"I have to say I'm not surprised it's you," he continues.

You're thankful that you didn't put your phone on speaker. Piers should be able to hear all of this.

Daniel starts walking closer, "Did you take a look through the computers?"

"Yeah," you say, backing away from him, "Found some pretty big stuff on there."

"Oh yes," he hums, "Truly magnificent, isn't it?"

You scoff, "Magnificent? What about any that is magnificent."

"You lack vision, my dear," he condescends.

"And you lack brain cells," you fire back.

Your insult doesn't affect him. He continues, "The T-Virus was so effective, the government's solution was to blow up the entire city."

You heard a loud noise from upstairs. Your first hope is that someone's here to help. But there's no way Piers would've gotten here that quick. Nevertheless, Daniel doesn't appear to notice, so you keep him occupied.

"You know we have vaccines for the virus? Even if you make a new strain, they'll make one before too much damage can be done," you tell him.

"Maybe, but an initial outbreak will cause enough panic for our other plans,' he responds.

Other plans? What else have they planned?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask. A worthless question to ask, but at this point, you're just trying to stall.

"It's just... so much fun," he says with a smile, "but now that you've seen what's down here, I have to kill you."

Before you even react, Daniel pulls out a gun and points it at you.

Your hands shoot up immediately.

"For what it's worth," he continues, "This has been entertaining."

The next few moments happen so fast that you barely register what happens. The sound of the door opening upstairs distracts Daniel for a second. You have no chance of getting out of this situation, but you try your luck by ducking behind the desk. Though it seems your luck has run dry tonight as a sudden pain spreads from the side of your body. You land roughly on the floor.

A man appears in the room and tackles Daniel. With your blurry vision, you recognize it to be... Chris? What is he doing here? You don't think of an answer before Daniel's gun slides towards you. You're in no state to aim it at Daniel without risking Chris, so you get another idea. You reach for it and shoot at the computers. Sparks fly from the display. You make sure to use up all of the bullets. Your vision goes dark.

------

The next thing you know, you open your eyes to be met with a blinding white ceiling. Groaning, you try to look at your surroundings. You don't see much before hearing someone say your name. You recognize the voice.

"Piers?" you call out in response.

"Yeah, I'm here," he says.

"What happened?" you ask.

"You got shot in your side. You've been in the hospital for a few days," Piers tells you.

You finally get a good look at the room; it's a standard hospital ward. There are monitors surrounding you. Piers sits on the right side of your bed. In the corner of the room, you see a small collection of flowers and cards. You hear the door open. Looking over, you see Chris come in.

"Hey, you're awake," Chris walks over to your left, "how's your memory?"

You back to the bar, "I think I remember most of what happened... before I blacked out."

"Right..." Chris pulls up a chair and sits beside you. He briefly explains everything that happened. You had destroyed the computers, and they couldn't retrieve the data. Hopefully, that meant no one else could get it either. The bar is now closed and under investigation. Blue Umbrella is also under some fire now.

"How'd you know I was there?" you ask when he finishes.

"I followed you. Your neighbour was worried and told me what you were up to," Chris tells you.

"Oh, I see..." you say.

It makes sense, you think to yourself, though you wouldn't be surprised if he said he used his magic Chris Redfield powers.

"And what happened to Daniel?" you continued.

"He's gone for now. But I don't want to worry. You should focus on getting better right now."

You sigh, "Yeah, ok."

Chris stands up, "I gotta get back to work. Take it easy, alright?"

"Of course," you say.

Chris and Piers nod at each other. Chris starts heading out.

"Oh, one more thing," he stops at the door and turns around.

You sit up a bit to look at him, "Yeah?"

"We're gonna need to have a serious chat later about how you inserted yourself into an official investigation without proper permission."

You stare at Chris, not expecting him to say that. After a second, you reply, "Right... yeah, sure thing."

He offers you a small smile and leaves.

Once he's gone, you lie back down and stare at the ceiling, "He's totally going to kill me."

Piers holds in a laugh, "Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

You sigh and ask, "Did I do bad?"

Piers takes some time to think.

"Nah," he shrugs, "if anything, you probably caused a major delay in whatever they were planning, which gives us more time to catch up. Besides, it's in the past. Nothing you can do about it now."

"Ugh, it never stops. It's just virus after virus, terrorist after terrorist."

"Yeah, maybe. But if people like us continue to fight, there's still hope."

You let out a weak laugh, "That sounds like a line from a Star Wars movie."

Piers chuckles, "Well, space would be much more interesting than viruses. Missions would have better views too."

"Yeah, I would hope for a better view than..." you look out the window of your hospital room, "the side of a building."

Piers laughs, "Alright, when you get better, I'll take you to the very top of my apartment building, and we can watch the sunset together. How does that sound?"

You smile, "That sounds wonderful."

The two of you stay in that moment for a while. It feels perfect, almost like that moment after the dinner party.

Piers stands up and breaks the silence, "It's getting late. I should let you rest."

But you stop him, "Wait, Piers... can you stay?"

He pauses and looks at you as if searching for something. Was he looking for sincerity? Was he looking to see if what you said was what you meant? Whatever it is, he seems to have found it.

"Sure," he says, smiling softly.

You scoot over on your bed as Piers takes off his jacket and shoes. He carefully slips in and puts an arm around you. The two of you fit snug on the bed.

You lay for a moment of comfortable silence before saying, "Thank you."

Piers responds, "Anything for you."

➸

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[randomprose]

jiang cheng with the junior quartet in which they've outgrown their fear of him and they realized sect leader jiang is just a giant grumpy cat with mother-hen tendencies.

when they night hunt with him occasionally he always has snacks and buys them street food if they finish early. he'll scold them for eating unhealthily but buys them the treats anyway. once, ozz said he's never had zongzi so jc bought them all one each from a stall.

he doesn't even say anything to wen ning anymore. when he sees that the juniors are with him, he just gives an acknowledging nod and a gruff reminder directed at the four of them to don't do anything stupid before going on his way. like he trusts them with him.

but anyway, these juniors start to pester jiang cheng whenever they're in yunmeng and they've somewhat learn how to decipher his scowls and screams from normal fond-bordering-on-affectionate ones to actually angry ones—the latter of which is rarely ever directed at them.

they're over at lotus pier whenever JL is. JL doesn't get to go there much now because of his sect leader duties but when he is, he is sure followed by his friends. it's like they've decided lotus pier is their go to headquarters where they can fool around and shit. jiang cheng would pretend he hates it and finds them all a nuisance ("don't you kids have your own sects to go home to?? lotus pier is not your play place! why are you brats always here?!") but he's really glad JL's got friends with him now. he used to be such a lonely child.

overtime, they just randomly pop up even when JL isn't there. jiang cheng is always surprised to see either lsz, ljy, or ozz in the compound saying they were in the area and decided to pop in for a greeting like: hi sect leader jiang! how are you? been to any night hunts lately?

they're over there a lot that they even have their own regular guest quarters by now. ones close to JL's suites in the family compound. they sometimes train with the disciples but otherwise they just mess around lotus pier and swim in the lakes. especially in the summers.

JL is ecstatic! finally! people who understands his jiujiu's weird show of affection other than wwx! JL thinks his jiujiu is just severely misunderstood but he really is just a Big Softie with grumpy tendencies.

oh and he teaches them stuff too obviously, but not in the way that's playful and interactive like wwx or direct like lwj. jiang cheng's wisdom comes in random bouts in the middle of night hunts. small tidbits on fighting born out of experiences from the war and life in general. the profound ones come when he's two bottles deep just before turning in or when they're strolling on busy night markets going home and he doesn't even mean to but the juniors are like 'wow that makes so much fucking sense we never thought of it that way what the fuck.'

when the juniors are night hunting near yunmeng or if lotus pier is their meeting point and jiang cheng doesn't get to come with them, he makes the servants pack them extra snacks or pile them on to JL to share with his friends. the servants are careful not to say anything but they all know it's under sect leader jiang's orders

ohmygod jiang cheng is such an overbearing mother hen. but in a good way! the juniors learned to enjoy it the best they can and needle him into buying them snacks or letting them do stuff they normally wouldn't get away with from wangxian. he's literally the grumpy uncle who's also the most indulgent.

on god can you imagine jiang cheng being THAT UNCLE who lets u get away with small misdemeanors?? ABSOLUTELY INSANE. but he does with the juniors!! like he trusts them to not be so stupid and call for help when need (also they have a fierce corpse as a companion most of the time anyway, so).

some sprinkles of wangxian bc i'm a slut for them: 

wangxian notice that they've been talking a lot about sect leader jiang. “oh,” wwx says, “you went night hunting with jiang cheng? when was this how come i’ve never heardof it?” he's clearly itching to ask more he's practically vibrating.

ljy: don’t worry wei-qianbei you're still our favorite! sect leader jiang is our close 3rd  wwx: 3rd? who's 1 and 2? ozz: you and hgj are #1 of course! wwx: we tied for #1?   ljy: yeah you're practically a package deal. do not separate and all that wwx: who's #2 tho? ozz: wen-qianbei! wwx: huh. valid.

jl: speak for yourselves. jiujiu is my #1. wwx: that's also very valid too a-ling. otherwise i'll have to scold you for being unfilial and jiang cheng will break your legs for breaking his heart.

once while relaying a report, lsz called jiang cheng ‘shūshū’ and wwx had to do a double take because um what? what did you just call jiang cheng? lsz blushed and stuttered an explanation before jl explained obnoxiously:

jl: jiujiu told him to call him that. told him to go to the ancestral hall to pay respects too. he must really like you sizhui.  ljy, #1 sizhui fan: of course he likes sizhui! everyone does! wwx: is it true sizhui? lsz, blushing:...shūshū's nice... wwx:...jiang cheng...shushu...nice..ok....okok...

lmao one of them (either ozz or ljy but i think it will be more hilarious if it's ljy) slipped and called jiang cheng 'jiujiu' once just because he kept hearing jl calling him that. jiang cheng just turns to him with a mild "that's jiang-zongzhu to you, lan jigyi."

and god!!! ljy is so mortified!!! this is worst than that one time he accidentally called hgj 'dad'!! it doesn't help that his friends are assholes (yes even sizhui!!) and never let him live it down. especially JL!! he's all "don't go stealing my jiujiu now" fuck you JL!! as if ljy will!!

also, once when they were sassing jiang cheng, (they get!! to sass sect leader jiang!! and he only threatened to break their legs once!!) and ljy got the last word in, jiang cheng hit him w/ a "is that any way to talk to ur uncle? huh, nephew?" which effectively shut up ljy as his friends roared in laughter propriety be damned!!

((yes i was thinking of that B99 episode where jake peralta called captain holt dad and holt went in for the ride and called jake 'son' lmao))

goodddd!!! i live for the junior quartet discovering that underneath jiang cheng's rough exterior he's a Big Softie who's also hilarious even when he doesn't mean to. JL is very happy with this development and wwx is happy to hear stories about his brother having fun with the kids.

this ran long but i also just wanna says this is because of queen jiang yanli's influence (you guys notice how yunmeng trio are all good with kids?) 

ANYWAY! this is me again with my 'Jiang Cheng is Great With Kids So Give Him More Kids To Take Care Of' agenda and you all should jump in on it thank you.

[posted on twitter]

[adhd-disaster-willie]

it’s not the waking, it’s the rising

I was gonna ask if you guys are ready to cry at nine in the morning but who am I kidding, this fandom is always crying

summary: Caleb put a cross on Alex’s suit; Alex comes to terms with this, among other things

warning: christianity, religious trauma

word count: 1,542

---

There was a song. When Alex was a kid, there was a song that his mother would sing to him every night before bed. Something soft that felt like home. She’d press a kiss to his forehead and pull the covers up to his chin and ask him if he’d said his prayers that night. He doesn’t remember the lyrics anymore, and he knows if he did, it wouldn’t feel like home ever again. 

It’s late at night and if he shuts his eyes, Alex can focus on Luke’s arm around his shoulder and Reggie’s thrown over his stomach, Julie’s dark curls pressing against his cheek. They’re all asleep, and the studio is eerily quiet; he can hear a draft coming in from the bottom of the door, and the ticking of an old clock that’s been on the wall since 1993. He remembers the day they got that clock. It was old and dusty even when they bought it from the corner of a thrift shop. Bobby claimed that they had to have some sort of way to tell the time when they were rehearsing, and Luke never replaced the batteries in his watch. Alex blinks slowly, inhaling the scent of the night, crisp and warm. His fingers are curled around the pin on the lapels of his suit jacket, trembling slightly. He traces the ridges in the cross with his nail and it feels heart achingly familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It doesn’t make any sense. 

He hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy with the worries of escaping the club and crossing over and then the joy of being free. But now it’s prodding at every nook and cranny in his mind, pulling at memories and things that are too compressed and faded to be called memories, but too real to be anything else.

Alex blinks roughly and suddenly he’s ten years old, sitting, cramped, at the end of the pew, with his little sister asleep against his shoulder.

“...that man shall not lay with man...” 

Alex doesn’t quite know what it means, but the way he says it feels like his voice is boring directly into Alex’s soul. He picks at the frayed edges of his shoelaces and exhales slowly. Murmurs of assent course throughout the church. His mother, his father, his sunday school teacher, Mr and Mrs. Daniels from across the street, everyone. He wants to ask his mother what the pastor means by this, but suddenly he blinks.

Alex is back in the studio, breath ragged like sandpaper. He digs his nails into his palm, stomach churning at the lack of sensation. If he were still alive, he’d open his hand to reveal purple crescents, but he’s not. He’s not alive and maybe that’s for the best, his parents are probably happier without him tainting their reputation. He closes his eyes, trying to erase the memories.

He’s 12. His room is cold and his cheeks are streaked with fresh tears. He cups his hands over his ears, begging the noise to go away. It’s all so, so much. It’s trying to kill him, he’s sure of it. It’s punishment. He bites at his lip until it bleeds, tells himself he deserves it.

It’s the devil, that’s what his mom would say. ‘Satan has wormed his way into your mind.’ But that’s the problem isn’t it? It feels real, it feels like him. It’s his fault, it’s his fault, it’s all his fault.

That’s the night he creates The Plan. The Plan is to marry a nice girl, a church girl with blond ringlets and rosy cheeks and a dainty smile. Maybe he’d learn to love her one day, maybe if he tried hard enough. Deep down he knows he can’t, but the idea of living a lie sounds better than the alternative. White picket fence, 2 kids, and maybe a dog. He’d be just like his parents and try his hardest to ignore the heartache.

The Plan doesn’t work out. 

Alex is tired. Tired of remembering. Tired of not remembering. Tired of the cold metal against his palm, mocking him. If he squeezes hard enough, maybe it’ll turn to dust in his hand. Maybe it’ll melt, and burn a welt in his skin, a permanent mark that should hurt but can’t no matter how much he wants it to.

He closes his eyes, wonders how he can cry. He shouldn’t even have tear ducts.

“...that none of you have had any sinful desires recently?”

Oh he’s 15 now, he’d forgotten this one.

A chorus of “no sir’s” echo through the cramped room. Alex’s voice feels disembodied, his throat dry. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. He waits with bated breath for someone to stand up and blurt it out, that Alex Mercer is a sinful liar who deserves eternal damnation.

“Remember your role as the man...” Whatever comes next is blurred. Alex shrinks into himself, blinking rapidly to hide his tears, begging for someone to take him, toss him into the ocean and let him drown. It’s what he deserves, anyway.

The studio is cold, despite it being warm outside. Alex pulls his jacket tighter around himself, every motion seeming to disturb the air.  Sometimes it feels like he’s causing a disturbance, just by being there. He remembers the dark room, remembers it all too well. It was suffocating and horrible, and he was sure it was hell. He’d curled in on himself and sobbed because his parents were right. He’d gone to hell and he’d dragged Luke and Reggie down with him.

But it wasn’t hell. And it still isn’t. Sometimes he’ll wake up in a cold sweat, feeling disoriented and numb, dreams filled with fire and screams of “It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s all. Your. Fault.” Alex exhales shakily, attempting to even out his breathing. He doesn’t know how he feels cold, he shouldn’t be able to. 

Alex pulls himself up, careful not to disturb his friends. They all look so peaceful and gentle, Alex wonders if that’s how he looks when he’s asleep, fragile and just… happy. He hesitates by the door, hand hovering over the handle. He doesn’t quite know where he wants to go, but there’s something pulsing in his chest telling him to leave.  

The beach is quiet. Alex pulls his shoes off and digs his feet into the sand, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can, just wanting to feel. The sand is cold and coarse beneath his bare feet. He pulls his gaze to the ocean, rocking rhythmically and shimmering beneath the dull moonlight. It feels like just yesterday that he was sitting, feet dangling off the pier while Luke and Bobby wrestled in the sand and Reggie read whatever book he’d nicked from the Barnes and Noble as of late. But there’s a neighborhood where the bookshop used to be, and someone else where Bobby should’ve been, and everything was different. 

Alex unpins the cross from over his heart, the weight shifting from his chest to his open palm. It’s silver, glinting in the light, and he wonders if it’ll break apart from the glow and swallow him whole. It doesn’t. Alex turns it over in his hand and runs his finger along the point, a cynical part of him wanting it to somehow draw blood that doesn’t even exist anymore.  

Everything in him is screaming to crush it beneath his heel and walk off, leaving the mangled metal on the boardwalk. But it’s like there’s still a tether wrapped tightly around his wrists, the other tied to the tall steeple on the church that had towered over him since before he could even walk. It’s knotted and disfigured and red-hot, burning him up from the inside. How can he feel so disconnected and so stuck at the same time? He wants to let go, to toss the last reminders of his parents and their influence in the sand, leave it to rot. But he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- 

“What do you want?” Bobby asks a sniffling Alex. He tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

Alex opens his mouth, shuts it. What does he want? It’s always been what his parents want, what the church tells him to do, stand rigid and smile wide. But no one’s ever asked what Alex wants. “I- I don’t know.” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“You want to drum, right? 

Alex nods fervently. “Yea, of course I do.”

“Then start with that.” Bobby squeezes his shoulder and slips from the studio, leaving Alex to clutch his backpack to his chest and ponder. 

Alex wants to be free. He realizes it finally, 25 years after Bobby asked. He turns the cross over in his hand once more; it feels like it’s left a mark over his chest, a scar. He takes a step back, swinging his arm behind his head, and he throws it. It lands in the ocean, sending a ripple through the water. And then it stills. Alex imagines it sinking down, down, down. He lets out a breathy laugh, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. There’s a scar running all across his soul, dark and prickly, but it’s healing.

---

stupid text limit. i had to turn the new post maker off to post this, so that’s fun. not looking forward to when i can’t turn it off.

[guqin-and-flute]

Are You Here to Stop Me?--Chapter 4

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

[I had the hardest time shaking this man and making plot fall out, he was wholly uncooperative.]

This was all such fucking disaster.

A-jie was sick, the Jiang were once again yanked into a political fiasco that they had to pay for with their own reputation, there was a fierce corpse puppet in his home--a home that, apparently, had already been invaded by the Jin Clan demanding answers to said political fiasco while its master wasn’t even there. In a few days time, it would be invaded again by strange Wens he didn’t know or want.

If his mother were alive, she would kill him. He would probably deserve it. He didn’t know what his father would think. He would probably be disappointed--either that he didn’t think of it in the first place or for his resentment.

He stood frozen by the door, anxiously watching Wen Qing treat a barely conscious A-jie. It wasn't like he had never seen his sister feverish and weak before, but it scared him the same every single time. To know that she was in pain and he couldn’t do anything about it. To know that this could be the illness that would take her from him. That this could be the last time that….He gnawed on the inside of his cheek and folded his arms tight across his chest to keep them from fidgeting at his sides.

Jin Guangyao seemed to think everything was under control--at least, that’s what he had said. It would have been far more comforting if it hadn’t been in such a distant voice while being unable to look away from A-jie. Clutching her hand in a white knuckled grip. Expression all strained and pale with badly concealed terror.

This is your plan! Jiang Cheng wanted to scream as he clenched his aching fists. I did this because you said it would work! You’re the one that’s supposed to know what you’re doing!

What he wouldn’t give to actually know what the hell he was doing. Being an adult couldn’t just be this, right? Just guessing and grasping around in the dark, tripping like you’re wearing your father’s too big robes? Every other person he met seemed to be controlled and mature, while he was barely treading water--hell, even Wei Wuxian did the things he did with confidence. It had to get better at some point, because, right now, this mess was embarrassing--enraging. But most of all, it was terrifying.

What the hell should he do? What was right?

A-jie kept breathlessly trying to tell them all that she was alright, that they should rest and continue preparing. But she could barely keep her eyes open. Her head lolled around like a floppy doll. Every once in a while, she was wracked with violent, hacking coughs that shook her and left her gasping.

When she whispered Jiang Cheng’s name and raised a trembling hand as Wen Qing stepped away to prepare something, he practically dove to her side, his knees slamming painfully into the floor in his haste. Clasping her hand in both of his, he found it freezing, so he chafed it gently between his palms. “A-jie?”

“You...must be...so tired.” She smiled weakly, eyes slurring to the Wen child who had fallen asleep on the other pillow, leaving grubby little smudges all over the bedding. “All of you. I’m fine. Go. Sleep.” Even this short speech left her breathless, then coughing, wet and harsh. She trembled as Jin Guangyao helped her sit up and held her close, stroking her back.

Jiang Cheng hated everything about this. He was going to kill Wei Wuxian.

She wasn’t wrong, though. His limbs felt like practice weights, his overworked core throbbed like a pulled muscle within him. (His core? Wei Wuxian’s core? The core? This reminder burrowed in him like a barbed arrow every time he remembered again, further and further since the night he had learned it. Regret and anger and nausea, swimming and hot, every day, every fucking day. A stranger inside himself, but not. Another thing he was helpless to.)

When A-Jie finally dropped into unconsciousness not long after, Wen Qing announced that under no circumstances should she be allowed to exert herself for the next few days, until she could sit up on her own and breathe without wheezing. “The fluid in her lungs has worsened,” she told the two of them, voice still hoarse. “But since I have access to the supplies here, her fever should hopefully break sometime tonight. She shouldn’t be in any immediate danger but she will have to take her medicine on a strict schedule.”

“She will,” Jin Guangyao agreed immediately, thumb smoothing repeatedly over the back of A-jie’s limp hand. “Just tell me when and I’ll do it.”

When Jiang Cheng finally stood to leave, just about every muscle from the base of his skull to the tendons at his heels screamed and gods, he wanted a bath and sleep and for this to not be happening. Wen Qing collected the still sleeping boy, and Jin Guangyao rose, seeing them all out into the hall before bowing, sharp and deep. “Thank you, Wen-guniang.”

Damn. Jiang Cheng hastily followed suit and bowed. You tactless asshole. She watched them both with weary eyes, expression as closed as it had been for days, but she inclined her head to accept. “Come get me immediately if anything changes.”

Straightening, Jin Guangyao nodded, his habitual smile nowhere to be seen, drained and serious. “I will. I’m going to stay up to watch her.”

Her eyes narrowed warily. But she only nodded.

The entire trip leading her through Lotus Pier to her prepared room was silent.

Jiang Cheng knew he should say something. He wanted to say something--to thank her more personally for A-jie’s care or tell her that she would be safe here, that when he made a promise, he kept it (unlike some people.) Maybe reassure her that this wasn’t a ploy by him to corner her, that this was honestly a waking nightmare he kept wishing he would wake up from.

That this wasn’t how he had imagined marrying her. As a last resort. As a trap.

Instead, he was silent. Nothing he had to say would come out right and he would either sound like an ass or an idiot. Or both.

She was just as quiet, anyway, drifting behind him like some sort of mourning wraith, carrying the limp child. The only sounds were their footsteps, distant murmurs, and the frogs droning from their intermittent little ponds and from the lake beyond. Chill from the young evening settled into their still damp, days old clothes. The clean, living scent of the water was comforting, so at least there was that.

He wondered if it just smelled like mud to her.

When they came to the room, he saw that the lanterns and the incense burner were already lit, and a while ago, judging by how thickly the scent of jasmine and musk lay over everything. It was one of the nicest guest suites, with a wide bed, wispy purple wall hangings, and intricate lotus blossoms crawling up in carvings on the screens. It occurred to him suddenly that it might seem horribly insensitive to remind her exactly where she was and why. Tacky. He ground his teeth.

Wen Qing staggered right by him into the room without a glance, practically collapsing across the bed to lay the boy down. Angry? Disgusted? Done with him, whichever it was. But Jiang Cheng stayed by the door, fingers worrying at the thick fabric of his robe, running the edge of his nail along the weave as she tucked the blanket up to the boy’s chin. The need to say something--anything--was becoming too much to bear. “I’m sorry it isn’t very big.”

Her voice was dull and she didn’t even turn around. “It’s fine, Jiang-zongzhu.”

Fuck.

“You don’t have to...you can call me Jiang Wanyin,” he said, because he was apparently very stupid. The slow, disbelieving look she gave him over her shoulder was well deserved. “You don’t have to,” he added, because he apparently was not done being stupid. I mean, you’ve literally cut me open before, so I figured….

“...Alright.”

Jiang Cheng wanted to melt into the floor. Or possibly die. His mouth worked around his grimace of self disgust and he managed, “I’ll have the servants send in a bath.”

She sagged back on her heels beside the bed, still looking over at him. “Where is A-Ning?”

Oh. Right. “Probably….” Actually, he had no idea where Wei Wuxian had taken him. His room? The idea of that puppet leaking black resentful energy and lying on his childhood bed seemed ridiculous. “With Wei Wuxian,” he finished, lamely. “I’ll find out.”

Her gaze transferred to the floor, eyes unseeing and darkened by smudges of dirt and exhaustion. She was still quite pretty, but it was a gaunt, unkempt sort of beauty. The silence stretched, uncomfortable. He should have let a servant show her to the room. She was waiting for him to leave, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly, just as he turned around to simply leave, saving them both the agony. “For doing this.”

His jaw tightened and he kept his eyes locked on the light wood of the column right outside her door. Instead of anything helpful or comforting, what came out was a low, unplanned, “Why didn’t you come to me.” She had the comb. She had to. It had been gone when he came back to check and he had thought...hoped….

Skin on fabric. She was probably looking at him, and so kept his shoulders rigid, back straight.

“I didn’t know if you would help.” Her voice was quiet, not angry or accusatory. But his fists clenched as heat flooded his face, his head throbbing. ‘You're untrustworthy and selfish and immature. Why the hell would I trust you?’

He was fucking this up. Again. Useless.

Jiang Cheng refused to dig himself a deeper hole. About 10 minutes too late. Without a word, he stopped darkening her door. Instead of going to his room and ordering a bath like he should have, he looked for Wei Wuxian, blood pulsing in his ears. Stalking through the halls, he scattered several anxious servants in his wake like ripples behind him.

When he found him, he actually was in his room, though the puppet was on an extra mattress on the floor instead of on the bed like Jiang Cheng had imagined. The room reeked of resentful energy--sour, burning, metallic. Old bile and blood and worse. Wei Wuxian himself was hunched over it with a brush and seemed to be adding to the fluttering layer of talismans that already festooned the prone form. It even took a minute for him to realize Jiang Cheng was in the doorway, but when he did, he leapt to his feet, haggard face anxious. “Shijie?”

“...Sleeping.”

“What did Wen Qing say? Will she be alright?”

“No thanks to you.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged and he blew out a breath. Then, he perked up, coming over to gently shake Jiang Cheng by the shoulders with a reproachful smile. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, lead with that next time, will you? You appear at my door looking like you’re about to avenge someone, what am I supposed to think?”

Smacking Wei Wuxian’s hands off his shoulders didn’t do anything to change his attitude. He just grimaced playfully and said, “Ow, careful! Now be nice, we’ll all be in trouble if you damage these hands,” while wiggling his fingers. It made the sharp rage in Jiang Cheng’s chest flare. It made him want to punch his stupid face.

“This is your fault.”

At this point, it was like they pulled out a script book for some overdone play, a rulebook outlining the steps to their fight. The brush off. Wei Wuxian looked past him, craning his head to peer out the door. “Where’s Wen Qing and A-Yuan? I wanted to tell her how Wen Ning is doing.”

The jab. “Are you even listening to me?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes at him, shrugging his shoulders as if letting the words just slide off of him with a stretch of his arms. The dismissal. “Ah, you’re always scolding me, so what’s the point in listening to you when you’re just saying the same things you have been for days? I’ll pay attention when you say something new. You’re so predictable.”

The snap; Jiang Cheng snarled, “How’s this, then? It’s your fault that A-jie is so sick.” He jabbed Wei Wuxian in the chest with his finger, knocking him back a step, pursuing. “It’s your fault if the Jin decide to wipe us all out again.” Another jab, another step. The insouciant air slid from Wei Wuxian’s face--instead, it was tight, the beginning of regret.

“Listen--”

“This is your fault and you’re not even sorry.”

A deep breath. “Jiang Cheng--”

He needed him mad. He needed him to stop moving away. “You weren’t thinking of anyone but yourself, like you always do. You’re making me take in and marry the people who killed my parents to protect you.” He could see Wei Wuxian bristle--because he knew it wasn’t quite true, it wasn’t really fair but Jiang Cheng didn’t care.

“What are you even saying? They’ve both saved us a hundred times over! These people are innocent, they were being brutalized, I had no choice--!”

“You always have a choice!” Jiang Cheng was shouting, now. “You just choose the one that causes the biggest scene! First you embarrass me in front of all the other Clan Leaders, then you kill Jin disciples and steal their prisoners--!”

“What right did they have to treat them that way? What crime did they commit?! I’m supposed to just leave them?!”

His outrage just fed the fury burning through Jiang Cheng, roaring in his ears, and he wanted to take his brother by the throat and shake him. He wanted him to be just as hurt and terrified as he was. He wanted him to stop acting so fucking noble, like it meant anything anymore after everything they had been through. His lungs burned from the resentful energy hanging in the air. Zidian sparked once, sizzling. “You always need to be the center of attention. Well congratulations, everyone’s looking at us, now! Aren’t you such a fucking hero? Isn’t it nice to have a shield that will rise up against every stupid thing you decide to do? When will it be enough?”

Wei Wuxian’s swallowed hard, jaw tight, eyes shining. “Do you think I wanted this?” He asked quietly, and Jiang Cheng had to bark a laugh that tasted bitter.

“No. I don’t think you thought at all. You just did whatever you wanted and expected the Jiang Clan to clean up after you.”

At this, Wei Wuxian looked away at the wall, shoulders bunched up, hands in fists at his side. “I wasn't...” he said tightly. “I was going to go. To take them--”

“Where?”

“I don’t know!” He snapped. “Somewhere I could keep them safe! I thought...maybe the Burial Mounds.”

A chill flooded through Jiang Cheng and he stared. “Are you insane? That hellhole?”

Wei Wuxian was still looking at the wall, though he swallowed again. “I could...control the resentful energy. Make it safe.” He clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

The thought alone had him reeling. Wei Wuxian really had been going to do it. He really would have left, after everything. After promising to rebuild Lotus Pier with him, to support him. After Jiang Cheng had fought so hard to find him the 3 months when he had been missing. After Jiang Cheng had stood by him when the war ended and everyone had started whispering about sinister ulterior motives--did Wei Wuxian have no concept of how this looked? “And do what? Establish your own Sect? Build your own empire? Should I call you Wei-zongzhu from now on?”

Wei Wuxian recoiled, face screwed up in disbelief as he finally faced him again. “No! What? No! Jiang Cheng, don’t be an idiot. I was going...I was going to take care of it myself. I wasn’t going to ask or involve you. I didn’t--I was going to handle it.”

That rage condensed and dropped sourly into his gut like sick. That was worse. That was so much worse. ‘I didn’t know if you would help.’ He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted that cleansing fury back. “Nice fucking job.”

Wei Wuxian vented a short, mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

“You don’t get to tell me to shut up.”

“I just d--” Wei Wuxian stopped himself, jaw working. When he spoke again, it was with careful containment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“What a stupid thing to say, of course I did,” Jiang Cheng snapped back. “What other choice did I have?”

“You could have just let me go. I would have been fine. You didn’t need to…you don’t need to put yourself out on my account.”

He would have preferred he had just fucking stabbed him. Honestly. Then who the fuck was he? Some acquaintance? Some stranger? To not ‘put himself out’--

He was really that easy to leave behind? Just that unremarkable, unneeded, unwanted? That every option, even the Burial Mounds where he had been trapped was preferable to staying with him in the home he had rebuilt with blood and sweat, plank by plank for them--for them, the only family he had left in this world.

What was so broken about Jiang Cheng that no one could possibly just love him as he was? What did he have to do to stop people from leaving him?

He wanted to stab Sandu through the corpse that used to be Wen Ning’s chest, tear off the talismans and throw him in the lake for the fish to take out of sight. To seize Wei Wuxian and scream; Stop letting go of me!

“Well, aren’t you so brave. Aren’t you so noble,” gritted out, all dark and vile, and Wei Wuxian flinched and Jiang Cheng would have felt triumphant if he didn’t feel so fucking awful instead.

“I had to.”

“You had to.”

Wei Wuxian said nothing. But he didn’t look ashamed. He just looked tired.

“Right. Because you’re so strong and powerful and right, always, and I’m the asshole who doesn’t care enough.”

“You know I never said that.”

“But that’s what you think. You still think that I didn’t do enough. That I didn’t do the right thing.”

Instead of fighting back--instead of denying it--Wei Wuxian let out a loud breath, shook his head and turned away to drop himself heavily beside the mattress on the floor. This retreat left Jiang Cheng completely empty. His nails cut into his palm and he was shaking all over, staring down at Wei Wuxian as he picked up another talisman, not looking at him. They had had this conversation already, in fits and starts on the race back to Lotus Pier, but hadn’t been able to fully say any of this around A-jie or the Wen’s and so had just jabbed at each other for days. But here, it was all unraveling at once like too tight bandages coming off. He craved a conclusion--the give and take of a shouting match or the clarity of a split lip and Wei Wuxian wasn’t giving it to him.

Couldn't. If it came to blows, Jiang Cheng would just hurt him.

And why was that, again?

His brother's face was gaunt as he ignored him, eyes shadowed, fingers raw and red with blood and cinnabar. Still working. Giving. He was always giving of himself to everyone. His protection, his trust, his love, his time.

His core.

Just more proof that he was better; kinder, more generous, better in every way. Well. Not every way, now. The overworked core gave an untimely twinge. But that even bore his fingerprints, didn’t it? His sacrifice. (He had tried so hard, so fucking hard to give Wei Wuxian something that only he could give, the only protection, the only apology Jiang Cheng had left for what he had blamed him for. And he had shoved it right back like an unwanted gift.)

Jiang Cheng wasn't special, though. That knowledge bristled in his throat like knives, now. What he had done for Jiang Cheng wasn't because he loved him--apparently, it was because it was the right thing to do.

And Wei Wuxian always did the right thing. He would have done it for anyone.

Jiang Cheng's eyes went to the talismans fluttering in the dark breeze. It was the Cloud Recesses, the Yin Iron, the oh-so-perfect-and-peerless-and-interesting-Lan-Wangji all over again. Leaving Jiang Cheng behind to go be a hero because he just didn’t fucking matter enough to keep around. Because Wei Wuxian thought he was pathetic and selfish.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes were burning, his voice shaking when he spat, “Great. Then just keep trying to make yourself a better shidi out of that thing. I’m sure it will never stop kissing your ass.”

On his way back to his room, he snapped at a young servant girl to order a bath for Wen Qing. She practically ran.

Nice fucking job, idiot.

Crashing face first onto his bed, he fell into unconsciousness immediately.

[derekmorganscrocs]

Last Summer: Ace x Reader (OneShot)

Here’s an adorable Ace gif for you because I love him.

Word Count: 2, 064

Summary: You and Ace are best friends but it turns into something more.

Quick Note: This is the first thing I’ve written that I’ve fully finished and am posting so I’m like freakin our right now. Also this isn’t my usual style but I’m super happy with how it turned out and I hope you (anyone who reads this) likes it! I’m considering a series but I also have several other things in the works, so it might not be soon. Anyways, let’s get this show on the road!

Ace and Y/n. Best friends since they could walk. Inseparable through elementary, middle, and high school. Where do we start?

To be honest, there’s not a lot to explain. You and Ace kind of just... were. It made sense. Best friends, always had the other’s back. You both work at the Claw, you’re both a little burnt out and worn down, but still clever and funny. Everything always made sense.

You always joke, laugh, and do stupid shit together. You’ve bailed him out of trouble more times than you can count. He’s done the same for you. He’s your favourite person, you’re his.

And you’ve been in love with each other forever. Except neither one of you can tell that the other loves you back. So we’re at a roadblock.

You got weird when Ace dated Laura back in the day.

Ace got weird when you dated James, the biker dude in high school.

You got weird when Ace started crushing on Bess.

Ace got weird when you mentioned that Ryan Hudson was hot in a douchebag kind of way.

Summer was different though. Had you known it’d be your last summer before you spotted Dead Lucy, saw Tiffany Hudson’s ghost, were introduced to the spirit world, and started doing seances and rituals every other day, you may have appreciated it more. But oh well, right?

Not right. The start of summer was when you started realizing you couldn’t go on the way you were, but that you also couldn’t live without Ace. So how do you confess? You don’t.

A couple weeks go by before you start to notice the way Ace looks at you, how he always stands just a little closer than anyone else does. How he puts himself between you and the guys that ogle you as the two of you walk to the pier. The way his jaw clenches when someone cute hits on you. His hand always right beside yours, and you wonder if he gets the urge to grab your hand like you do his.

And by the end of June, you’re this weird something. Not just friends, you’ve both seen the way the other stares. But it’s unspoken. You don’t know if you can bring yourself to tell him. He doesn’t know if he can bear the risk of losing you.

Don’t get it twisted, despite the buried feelings you and Ace are the best pair of best friends anyone in Horseshoe Bay has ever seen. Constantly laughing and cracking jokes, seeing who can get more tips in a day. Ace is always the one you turn to, you’re the one Ace turns to. For pretty much anything.

When July rolls around, you both get more time off. The fourth comes quickly, and you make plans to watch the fireworks from the roof of the claw. Upon climbing up at sunset, you decide to just hang out for a few hours until it’s actually time for the fireworks. You talk and joke, and you and Ace carve your initials into one of the shingles. Laying against the shingles, he only carves an A, and you ask if you’ll ever find out what his last name is.

“Maybe when you take it.”

Those are the five words that change everything. He looks up from his knife, startled at his own words. You’re frozen in place as the sky finally reaches its full darkness. And the first boom grabs your attention. You look over in the direction of the beach, and see red sparkles in the sky. Turning back, Ace is sitting up now, both of you still shell-shocked at his joke. Was it a joke?

His knife is long gone, tucked safely in his pocket, and he grabs your face and kisses you. You kiss him back, obviously. He kisses you passionately, slowly but strongly, and fireworks erupt. Both metaphorically and literally. You both end up laying side by side on the roof, kissing and watching the fireworks. It’s the best night ever.

But it’s never made official. There’s still no blurted out confessions, and it never happens again. His eyes still dart to your lips when you speak to him, you still imagine his arms around your waist, and you both still stare longingly at the other whenever their back is turned.

Until August rolls around, a month filled with storms and fog. And death. Ryan Hudson and his goons pull up for dinner. You and Ace serve them when all the others bail, make jokes about insufferable rich people and stare at each other’s mouths, both trying to not get caught as you wish you could just have what you want.

Then the lights go out. Screaming outside from Nancy, and Tiffany Hudson is dead. You and Ace are pretty much free to go, alibis confirmed. The next day Nancy comes to you with evidence that Tiffany Hudson was killed by Lucy Sable. Dead Lucy. Oh god.

The case unfolds and you’re wrapped up in a supernatural mystery. All the while trying to figure out your very natural mystery. What the hell is going on between you and Ace? It’s normal but not, and you don’t want to lose him, but you can feel the drift starting. It’s so uncertain. For once in your life, nothing makes sense.

You cover well though. Burying your feelings is a lot easier than it should be, and you and Ace still joke and pull stupid shit all the time. George and Bess are tired of being caught in the crossfire of your pranks, Nancy would be, but the only time she’s actually noticed anything is when you shot her with a nerf gun because Ace dodged. Nick, the guy from the garage, makes his way into your crew, and takes immense amusement from you and Ace. It’s fine. Great, even.

Then in September, after Tiffany Hudson’s funeral, you go to the Claw to talk to Ace. But he’s beyond talking. He’s got his tongue in Laura Tandy’s throat. And you knew she was back in town, hell, that’s what pushed you to finally talk to Ace. Only you’re too late. You’ve wasted the summer, your summer, being afraid of losing him. Just to lose him anyways.

So you spend a miserable month pretending you’re fine and fake gagging every time him and Laura have their backs turned on you. You bitch to Bess, who’s all too keen on the drama. Nancy’s so wrapped up in the paranormal and her own love life that she’s barely bothered to notice that you’re drowning. George on the other hand... she’s supportive. Well as supportive as George can be. Mostly threatening Laura and saying she’ll fire Ace if you want her to. But you can’t do that. He may only be a dishwasher at the Claw, but he loves it. He loves being part of the team.

And then you walk in on Laura asking Ace to go to Paris with her. You nearly lose it, but manage to keep it together, hiding around the corner with a hand clamped over your mouth as tears threaten to finally spill free. When they’re out of sight, you call Bess, then George, then Nancy, all to no avail. And so you’re hyperventilating and alone, sitting on the front porch of the Claw when Nick swoops in to save you.

Of course it was Nick. The only one who doesn’t know about the whole mess with Ace. So he makes you explain and watches in horror as you refuse to let tears fall and successfully convince yourself to just not be sad. Over the next few days he turns into a brotherly figure, managing to help you realize that feelings are okay to have.

So the garage is your new hangout, and you don’t realize that Ace is actually missing you. Because the only one he wants to ask about going to France was you. Nick sends you back to work on the fourth day, you don’t want to go but he forces you. He says ‘mixing shitty Caesars is the best remedy for any amount of pain.’ It’s the first time he’d seen you laugh in a while. Actually, the first time you’d laughed in a while.

The first person you see when you walk in the diner, of course, was Ace. Sitting at the bar, staring into the wall’s soul. You manage a quiet ‘hey’, and when he turns to see you looking mostly back to normal, he nearly tackles you into a hug. He manages to restrain himself though, not sure what to do. You two never fight. Is this even a fight? How do you make up from a not-fight-fight? Instead he asks you to sit with him. You do, reluctantly, but only because he insists and you can never say no to him.

“Say the word and I’ll stay. Say you want me here and I won’t go.”

And there he goes, changing everything again. You freeze, just like on the Fourth of July, and stare at him in shock. This time though, he isn’t surprised, it’s just you who’s shell-shocked. It takes you a while to understand that he is actually saying what he’s saying, and you kind of just stare at him for a minute. Then you make your decision.

“I can’t tell you what to do. You need to make this call on your own.”

And then, you mix Caesars. And more Caesars, and more Caesars. The restaurant could be supplied for a week if it weren’t a festival day. You would’ve kept going, but what’s left in the bottom of the vodka bottle looked pretty delicious, so you down it instead. Still mostly sober, but tipsy enough to manage a smile, you patted George on the back and said goodbye before heading to the garage.

Nick makes you crash on his couch in the loft, and after a power nap and a glass of water you’re back to completely sober. Good as new. The only thing that’s missing is... your phone. You left it at the Claw earlier. Which means you have to go back. And probably see Ace again.

So back you go. You get the phone without running into anyone, but pause at the sound of voices in the dining area. Frozen in the kitchen, you watch as Ace tells Laura he’s staying. That he has a ‘purpose here. And a person.’ She tells him to miss her, which gives you mixed vibes, and leaves.

“Ace?”

“Jesus! Oh, Y/n! You’re-you’re here. Oh that’s great, you saw that. How much did you hear?”

“That you have a purpose here. And a person.”

A smile finally appears on your lips, and he reciprocates. You walk into the dining room, toward Ace. He watches your every move intently, as if he’s entranced with you. He is, because he hasn’t seen you smile since Laura came to town. And even though he’s been playing it happy, he’s been miserable. He loves Laura, he really does, but it’s more of the ‘maybe in another world’ kind of relationship.

You and Ace. That’s the ‘perfectly perfect, made for each other, soulmates, in any world’ type of relationship. Best friends to something more, with ups and down. Real. Not some whisk you off to Paris and live in a movie. Horseshoe Bay’s ugly, scary, haunted, real life.

Sitting on a barstool, back to the kitchen, you lean against the bar and look at Ace. You think about what to say. There’s so many things you could do. That you want to do.

Slap him.

Kiss him.

Throw him off the roof.

Hug him until he has to peel you off of him.

Throw a bottle at his head.

Jump into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist and stay there forever.

Stick Lucy on him to suck out his soul.

Kiss him until you run out of air.

Maybe you’ll say something instead. There’s lots of things you could say, but you’re not sure how many of them are true.

Did he really betray you by seeing Laura?

Are you grateful for this because you met Nick and gained a brother?

What would’ve happened if Laura never showed?

Are we still us?

Instead, you decide to go with something you know is the truth.

“I’m your person.”

And he smiles like he’s won the lottery.

Tags: @vexfulfun

[spockandawe]

So this morning, I tripped across this excellent post about Xue Yang and classism, and it shook something loose in my head. Specifically, it got me thinking about the idea of Xue Yang taking revenge for ‘only’ losing a finger. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say anything as directly dismissive as saying he only lost a finger, but I do think that is at least partially the way that Xue Yang takes the argument.

And I’ve thought a lot and said a lot of words about the way Xue Yang feels hurt and betrayed and frustrated as he tries to explain himself to someone, for once, and that person completely misses his point. And I’ve said words about how in the three years in Yi City, Xue Yang gets hooked on the quiet comfort of domesticity, even if he and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing are still, objectively, poor. But I’d never thought about this particular angle of their last argument before now.

This is going to be long, I can tell, so let’s throw a spoiler cut in here

Now, I do think it’s important that Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say directly that it was only a finger. I think it would have been cruel of him to say that. But I also think that his upbringing and position in the world make him a bit… oblivious to the implications of Xue Yang’s story, and what he’s trying to communicate, and that leads to him saying some things that are more insensitive than he would have chosen to if he’d realized.

From a very early point, he knew that Xue Yang grew up without parents or money.

Unhurried, Xue Yang began, “Once upon a time, there was a child.”

“The child really liked eating sweet things. But because he had no parents or money, he could rarely eat them.”

And he was told how that child was exploited, and how hard he was beat up and used even before things reached the point where he lost a finger

[The huge, brawny man] took over the paper and looked at it, and he gave the child a slap so hard that his nose started bleeding. The man pulled the child’s hair and asked, ‘Who told you to take such a thing over?’”

[…]

“[seven-year-old Xue Yang] felt scared and pointed the direction. The man went to the liquor shop, carrying the child by pulling his hair.”

[…]

“The store was in a mess and the waiter was feeling quite cross. He slapped the child a few times, so hard that his ears were even buzzing, and chased him out the door. He crawled up and walked for a while.”

[…]

What do you think happened? Just a few more slaps and a few more kicks.”

(It’s interesting to me that he dodges even mentioning his hand being run over in this version of the story, but later goes into a lot of detail about his hand later with Xiao Xingchen, even though Xiao Xingchen has completely turned against him)

And, something that I hadn’t really noticed until I went to collect these quotes, is how Xiao Xingchen reacts to this story.

After Xiao XingChen tucked her, he walked a few steps, then asked, “What happened afterward?”

Xue Yang, “Guess. There was no afterward. You didn’t continue telling your story either, did you?”

Xiao XingChen, “No matter what happened afterward, since right now your life is fairly adequate, there’s no need for you to dwell too much on the past.”

That’s… a very high-minded approach to take, where I can see the good intentions, but I’m also kind of wincing at the accidental implications.

And then, to mix it up, let’s have some screencaps for the second half of the story, because these actors seriously knocked this scene out of the park

“The wheels of the cart milled over the child’s hand, one finger at a time. He was seven!”

And then another book quote, because it’s fascinating to me how directly he begs Xiao Xingchen to empathize with the child who was used so poorly and lost a finger in the process.

“Is it that, since the fingers weren’t yours, you guys were incapable of feeling the pain?! You guys didn’t know how horrifying screams sounded like out of your own mouths? Why didn’t you ask him why he decided to amuse himself with me without a single reason?!”

Only, right after he does this, Xiao Xingchen talks about how disproportionate Xue Yang’s revenge was. This really kills me, honestly, because this is the point where Xue Yang stops trying to appeal to him and explain himself, and takes a sharp turn towards losing control over his emotions instead.

Xiao XingChen spoke as though he couldn’t believe Xue Yang’s words, “Chang Ci’An broke one of your fingers in the past. If you sought revenge, you could’ve simply broken one of his fingers as well. If you really took the matter to heart, you could’ve broken two, or even all ten! Even if you had cut off an entire arm of his, things wouldn’t have been like this. Why did you have to kill his entire clan? Don’t tell me that a single finger of yours was equal to more than fifty human lives!”

I always just accepted that this was enough to hurt Xue Yang that much. But also… Xiao Xingchen knows that Xue Yang was a poor, parentless child, and he’s heard about how this child was callously exploited and mistreated by three separate adults. And there’s a couple class-related details in here that I want to touch on.

One, Xue Yang was again, a poor, parentless child, and I imagine he was living on the streets in a situation like that. Chang Ci’an broke (amputated) one of his fingers. And ran over the whole rest of his hand, which I have to imagine did other significant damage. Okay, so he wrecked this seven-year-old child’s hand. Now…. how much did this child have? What did he have besides his body? Did he even have a home to retreat to and recover? Because I have to imagine he didn’t. He didn’t have money for medical treatment, it’s not even clear if he knew anyone he could go to for basic medical help. Let’s not even talk about setting the bones in a shattered hand, did he even have access to anything to prevent infection? If he had any means of making a living (at age, again, seven), it would almost have had to be either begging or stealing. Having one ruined hand would have done awful things to this parentless child’s ability to survive. He made it through, clearly, but god. 

And Xiao Xingchen isn’t approaching this from a position like most of our main characters, who grew up wealthy and privileged. He’s not approaching this in a way like how Jiang Cheng scolded Wei Wuxian for breaking his arm, because he had to get it all plastered up and spend weeks recovering, and that was super inconvenient. Xiao Xingchen was never wealthy, and he grew up as a feral mountain child with Baoshan Sanren. But that means that he wasn’t subject to the same social forces as a city child like Xue Yang. Even if he was injured as a child, even if he was badly injured, it wasn’t probably an act of cruelty or callousness on the part of an adult. And if he was injured, he might not have had access to formally trained doctors, but he had a teacher who was highly trained spiritually, and who would at least care for him.

In a way, I think that makes it all hurt… more for Xue Yang. Because Xiao Xingchen isn’t gentry, he never was affiliated with the great cultivation sects, and he and Xue Yang and A-Qing have been living together in a city in fairly poor circumstances for three years now. But Xiao Xingchen is an adult, and one who’s used to making his own way in the world. He has no personal understanding of what it’s like to be a powerless child in similar circumstances, without anyone. And in this moment, he’s not able to understand how awful and how serious this was for a child like Xue Yang to experience.

Like, compare and contrast. When the Wens are starting to move against Lotus Pier, there’s half a moment where Wei Wuxian makes his peace with losing a hand. He’s like ‘yeah, that sucks, but i’ll deal. i’ll just learn to fight with my other hand, whatever!’ But just imagine how serious that would have been before Jiang Fengmian found him. Without money, without a home, without anyone to care for you, without access to any real medical care, how dire an injury would that have been? Xue Yang might not have lost his hand altogether, but the cart ran over his whole hand, and hands are just full o’ bones. The consequences of that injury were significant. 

And Xiao Xingchen’s initial reaction is ‘okay, so this wealthy cultivator broke your finger. why didn’t you just break his finger?’ and then he manages to escalate his way up to ‘idk, you could have even cut off his arm???’

In retrospect, it’s completely unsurprising to me that this is the moment where Xue Yang totally shuts down and starts asking why Xiao Xingchen even got involved, if he wasn’t capable of understanding.

“You shouldn’t have meddled in other people’s business. Right or wrong, kindness or hatred are not clearly distinguished, so how could an outsider possibly understand?”

“Your martial mentor, Baoshan Sanren, was indeed insightful. Why didn’t you listen to her and obediently cultivate in the mountain? If you couldn’t understand the human affairs and this world, then you shouldn’t have come!”

It makes me wonder what would have happened, if Xue Yang had leaned harder into what kind of suffering and hardship an injury like that meant for a street child, but considering how reluctant he was to share in the first place, I’m not exactly surprised he didn’t go there.

Incidentally, it’s interesting to me that when Xiao Xingchen calls Xue Yang ‘disgusting’, that’s when Xue Yang pivots into really trying to hurt him. I think it would hurt, coming from Xiao Xingchen, no matter what, but I have to wonder if he takes it extra hard in light of the way he’s just been trying to explain his history as a mistreated street child.

I’d been idly wondering if I was reading too far into this dynamic (not that that was going to stop me, but still, wondering :P), but this last addition to the conversation really caught my attention

“The people I hate the most are ones like you who say they’re righteous, who think they’re virtuous. Stupid, naive, dumb idiots like you who think the world’s better just because you did something good!”

And then I was like no, I’ve been right this whole time, haha :V

Xue Yang’s anger and hurt sense on a purely personal level, especially with the extra pain of trying to explain himself, for once, and Xiao Xingchen missing the point. But the extra frustration on behalf of his younger self makes so much additional sense. 

Xue Yang likes Xiao Xingchen, he likes living with Xiao Xingchen, or he wouldn’t still be there three years after a chance encounter. It would be a whole other meta to source this claim, but it very much feels like there are things he admires about Xiao Xingchen, even if it’s kind of a condescending, indulgent fondness for his foolish, naive innocence instead of a straightforward admiration. Until it tips over here, and becomes personal. 

And I think there were a lot of ways where he was prepared to disagree with Xiao Xingchen on a deep, fundamental level. They have very different values. But I don’t think he was prepared for Xiao Xingchen to be so oblivious to the class-based aspect of Xue Yang’s history. I don’t think Xiao Xingchen intended to be cruel, and I also think he had other significant things on his mind, but the seriousness of this incident doesn’t seem to occur to him. For someone with money, for someone with a skilled martial family, for even someone with a family, period, this would have been a traumatic experience, but one that could be dealt with. But then Xiao Xingchen equates the finger of this wealthy, purposefully cruel cultivator to the finger of a poor, parentless street child, and Xue Yang begins to lose control.

I already didn’t blame him for how upset he gets in this conversation, but now, even more than before, I find his reaction incredibly understandable. I mean, yes, their whole relationship is built on a foundation of sand, but he thought that he and Xiao Xingchen… supported each other, at least. They mattered to each other. And when Xiao Xingchen rejects him in the present, well, sure, that was going to happen if anyone was stupid enough to tell Xiao Xingchen the truth, that was understandable. But when Xiao Xingchen casually brushes aside the suffering of little innocent seven-year-old Xue Yang, that hurts Xue Yang more than he could have ever anticipated. 

[bosspigeon]

one for sorrow

Pairing: Gen, M!Detective/Mason Word Count:  3483 Summary: Juniper Fenn reflects on memories, nursery rhymes, loneliness, and wanting to be wanted.

Just a little (uh... kinda big, actually?) character study for my soft boy, Juni! It wound up a lot more emotional than I originally intended, but I like having this insight into his character.

CW for (implied) deadnaming, misgendering, coming out, and in the last portion a non-graphic post-sex scene with some allusions to said sex ahfdsjh.

                                     One for sorrow, two for joy.

He thought the needle would hurt more than it did. He closes his eyes and looks away, and the artist gives him the hairy eyeball when he clutches at Tina’s knee, like she’s afraid he’ll jump off the bench and bolt for the door. He wants to ask if that’s happened before, but he thinks he’s made enough of a fool of himself so far.

“You sure you’re good?” she asks, giving him an out. Somehow, that just strengthens his resolve.

He takes a slow breath and nods, closing his eyes.

He hears the buzzing, and when the machine first touches skin, he almost jumps, but he’s more worried about looking like more of a baby than he already does than he is startled, so he bites his lips and forces himself to holds still. And it does hurt, but not like he thought it would. He squints one eye open to watch the progress of the first line over his skin. He expects to be repulsed, like when he’s having bloodwork done, and he has to look away from the needle going into his arm. But this is different, somehow. Doesn’t make his stomach turn.

“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Tina teases, when the first wing has taken shape. He almost jumps again, but he manages to contain it to a twitch. He’s going to tip the artist as much as he’s able after this is done, just for dealing with someone as fidgety as him.

He chews at his lip. “It’s… I dunno. I wouldn’t say it feels good, but it’s kind of soothing, in a weird way?”

She leans over, watching, and the artist gives her a bit of a look, so she backs up again. “Have you told your mum?” she asks.

He snorts out a laugh and looks away, back at the stencil on his arm that will soon be filled in with black feathers and ringed with flowers. “Of course not. She’d probably kill me.”

“She doesn’t like tattoos?” Tina tilts her head, watching his face like she’s waiting for him to start whining about how it hurts. She’s always been the tougher of the two of them, and he’s got no illusions about that, so he’s sort of proud of himself for keeping his cool—as much as he’s got anyway.

He shrugs the arm that’s not under the machine, and wonders when he’ll get his next tattoo. He’s already got ideas for more, and knowing that it’s not so bad as he was worried it would be is exciting. Not to mention, it’s something that’s just for him. Not for anyone else. He’s… never really done anything like this before. “I don’t know what she likes, but I doubt she’d approve.”

She sucks her teeth and he squeezes her knee again when she gives him that soft, sad look she sometimes does when his mum comes up in conversation. “What’s it going to be?” she asks suddenly. Tina’s a good friend, changing the subject before he can get moody about it.

“A magpie,” he says softly, looking back down to watch the lone bird slowly taking shape on his skin.

                                       Three for a girl, four for a boy.

He asks what happened to all the pretty paintings around the house when he’s ten, because they disappear sometime after one of Mum’s visits, when she seemed more distant than usual. Maybe she hopes he won’t notice, but he misses them immediately. The house is too bare without them, it feels so lonely. It’s always been lonely, ever since Dad passed, but the bare walls make it even lonelier. Mum brushes it off, of course. He’s used to it at this point, so he doesn’t push her, but he’s also stubborn, so he goes looking. He’s even more determined when she tries to shut him up by replacing them all with clean, impersonal prints in neat little frames. He finds them in the attic, tucked away in a box, each one slipped carefully into a protective sleeve or folder and wrapped in tissue paper. He finds a dreamy matted watercolor of him as a baby, fat and freckly and smiling with no teeth, and he has to take a minute to sit down and cry as quietly as possible before he can start going through the rest. There’s a folder of scrawled pencil portraits, too. He finds one of Mum sitting on a pier, peeking back over her shoulder with her hair blowing in the wind. She’s smiling. He can’t remember the last time he saw her smile.

There’s a self portrait that makes him laugh through his tears, because the reflective surface Dad seems to have used as his mirror is a Christmas ornament, so his face is distorted, one eye huge, his tongue out, drawing himself drawing. He keeps that one for sure, and a few of the other ones he thinks he can get away with. An oil pastel of a wooden swing dripping with honeysuckle, a colored pencil drawing of the library, a few studies of people and plants and animals, and another watercolor of the three magpies, sitting in a juniper tree.

There are three magpies painted on his bedroom wall, from back when it was his nursery. Dad painted them right after he was born, before they brought him home from the hospital. They’d waited until he arrived to know what his gender would be. Of course, he went and messed that up, like he did most things. Sometimes he wonders if Dad would be disappointed, or if he’d think it was funny.

They used to be above his crib, and then his bed when he outgrew that, but he moves his bed to the opposite side of his room when he’s fourteen, and covers them with a poster. He thinks for sure Mum’s going to give him an earful about it, but he’s surprised she hasn’t tried to cover them up herself. He supposes it’s not really an issue, since when she is home, it’s not like she spends any time in his bedroom.

And then he's sixteen, and he’s been practicing his watercolor for years at this point. Sometimes, he creeps into the attic when he’s got the house to himself, rifles through Dad’s paintings, studies his style for as long as he can. He’s been old enough not to need a proper nanny for years now, though someone comes to check up on him frequently and make sure he’s got food and necessities, but beyond that he’s got plenty of time alone. He sits in the attic until he's sore from the wooden floor, trying to think of how Dad’s hands might have looked while he worked, the speed and angle of his brush strokes. He doesn’t think he can find anything new at this point, as many times as he’s snuck up here to look at Dad’s work, but out of the blue, he finds what might have been a really nice landscape, if it weren’t marred by fat little handprints in bright yellow and green, as if he’d smeared his hands across the palette the second Da took his eyes off it, and slapped them down in the middle of the paper. He comes back to it a lot, when he spends time in the attic, because when he looks at it, he swears he can hear what he imagines Dad’s laugh sounded like, his voice calling him a little menace with all the fondness in the world. 

And then he’s eighteen, and he’s alone on his birthday. Mum calls, tells him she loves him and she would come and visit him later on, so they could do something together, but she couldn’t take the day off. She tells him how proud she is of her daughter being all grown up, and he winces, but keeps his mouth shut.

And then he maybe gets a little bit drunk, drags out his paints and brushes, rifles through the portfolio hidden carefully in the back of his closet, and finds the painting with the juniper tree and the three magpies

He takes another shot to steady his nerves, and paints in a fourth.

                                      Five for silver, six for gold.

He shouldn’t be surprised Mum doesn't come to his graduation, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. She’s busy, she’s always been busy, she’s been busy since he was a toddler.

He was stupid to believe anything he did would be important enough for her to bother with. To believe that he could matter to anyone enough.

Tina’s stepmum had more foresight than he did, inviting him along to her and Tina’s celebration dinner at a fancy restaurant out of town, and he has to take a minute to cry in the bathroom after they proudly present him with a messily wrapped gift and a card that practically explodes with glitter when he open it, but he can’t even pretend to be annoyed because it has his name in it, and while he's trying very hard not to break down crying in public, Tina hugs him so tightly his spine creaks and tells him she couldn’t have wished for a better brother.

When they drop him off at home, his eyes are still red and a bit wet, he’s full of good food and affection, and he’s smiling like an idiot in spite of the fact that he can’t stop sniffling. The heavy sterling silver magpie skull charm rests against his collarbone, the weight comforting in a way he can’t hope to put into words. He'll never forget Tina’s dewy, smiling eyes as she clasped it around his neck and told him proudly, “Now you’ve got two.'"

He falls into bed holding the charm, reluctant to take it off, but knowing he should put it somewhere safe before bed. He exhales a happy sigh, laughing a bit wetly to himself.

And then his phone vibrates in the pocket of his slacks, and his heart seizes in his chest.

He doesn’t have to check the ID to know who it is. Nobody ever calls him, and his eyes flicker anxiously to the pressed dress in its plastic garment bag still hanging untouched on the back of his closet door. He’d given Tina the expensive name-brand heels for her own graduation outfit, because even if he did want them, he couldn’t walk in the damn things anyway. Lucky for him, they wear the same size shoe.

He takes a moment to calm his breathing, but that means he has to fumble to answer the call before it ends, and he winces when he sees two more missed calls in his log. “Mum!” he blurts, his voice instinctively pitching higher. “Hi! How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she tells him easily. “I’m sorry again I couldn’t make it today. There was  a—”

“A big project, I know,” he finishes. It’s always a project, or a trip, or a meeting. The details are always scant, but Mum knows how to make it sound big and important and in need of her attention. He’s tried not to be bitter about it, but there’s always been a part of him that wishes, for once, she’d decide he was important enough to need her attention. “It’s okay, Mum.” It’s not, it never was, but it would be selfish of him to tell her that. She’s got enough to worry about.

“Well, I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten, so I had a gift delivered. It should have arrived today.”

He bites back a sigh. He wonders if it would be easier if she had just forgotten. If it would hurt less than knowing she always made the decision not to see him. “Oh, I’ll go check!” he blurts, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into his voice as possible. He rolls out of bed and heads for the door, poking out to check the mailbox. Of course, inside there is a slim, rectangular package, wrapped in tidy brown paper. The address and names are printed on stickers.

He takes it inside with the phone tucked against his shoulder, weighing the box in his hands. It’s light, and he wants to be excited about whatever it is, but he’s suddenly drained from the day, from crying and laughing and crying some more.

The dining room, somehow, has always felt more lonely than anywhere else in the house, and he’s never been able to figure out why, but he puts the package on the table and starts picking at the neat wrapping. Mum is quiet on the other end of the phone, waiting, and Juni wants to break the odd silence, but can’t even begin to think of what to say. He wishes he didn’t bite his nails, because it takes him way too long to break into the pristine paper, and inside is a long red jewelry box. When he lifts the lid, there is a delicate gold necklace resting on a soft velvet pad, understated and objectively lovely, if not really his style, but it’s the note that flutters out of the box that catches his attention. His eyes skim the note, expecting her usual platitudes that he sometimes wonders if she has someone else type for her.

I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.

His breath leaves him in a painful, strangled rush, his lungs squeezing tight in his chest. And before Mum can speak, he blurts "I can't take this," trailed by a ragged sob.

“Of course you can,” she says gently, kindly. “I know how you get about expensive gifts, but really, it’s no trouble—”

His head fills with screaming static when she calls him what she’s always called him, what she doesn’t know better than to call him, because he’s never told her. He’s never had the chance, it’s never been the right time, it felt wrong not to do it in person, but whenever he sees her in person he feels like he shouldn’t waste the time with her by bringing up something so…

“My name is Juniper!” It explodes out of him, louder than he’s ever been with her, and it stuns her into silence. “I’m not your daughter!” he cries desperately, “I’m your son. You can’t be proud of the woman I’ve become, because I’m not a woman!” He sounds insane, he knows he does, shrill and frantic, but his heart is hammering so hard he feels dizzy, the walls are yawning wide around him, the dining room feels huge and so empty and so bleak. He’s never felt more alone in this dark, quiet house he’s spent his entire life rattling around in than he does in this exact moment, and it’s suffocating. His phone drops from shaking fingers onto the floor, and he drops with it, curling into a ball and struggling to remember how to breathe, dizzily hoping he won’t need to go scrambling for his inhaler. His fingers clench so tightly around the heavy silver charm he’s almost worried he’s going to snap the simple leather cord, but he needs to ground himself or he feels like he’ll dissolve entirely.

He hears Mum calling the name that’s not his, and when he finally manages to fumble his phone with nerveless fingers, he winces seeing the screen is cracked. “I’m sorry,” he sobs weakly, his eyes burning with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He can’t even be sure what he’s apologizing for, but he knows he has to, especially when he slams the end call button and buries his face in his knees so he can cry alone in the dark.

                              Seven for a secret, never to be told.

Juni’s skin is starting to get clammy, but he’s too comfortable to move. Eventually, he’s going to have to, if for nothing else than to get up and get cleaned up, but for now, he’s happy, if a little chilly. He nuzzles into the soft curls dusted across Mason’s chest, and lets his eyelids fall to half-mast, just open enough to absently count the freckles hidden under the chest hair, inevitably lose count, and start counting again. Mason smells good, cooling sweat and sandalwood, and dozy as he is, it takes a moment for Juni to realize he doesn’t really smell like smoke at all anymore. His room doesn’t smell lke smoke, either, he realizes. His heart thuds hard behind his ribs.

He gets distracted when a shiver rolls over him, the chill suddenly overwhelming against his sticky skin, and he curls further into Mason’s chest in an attempt to leach some of his warmth.

Mason clicks his tongue, and Juni’s whole body stiffens, worry zinging into his gut to rattle around there like a bird in a too-small cage. Mason shifts underneath him, and he starts to roll away, to apologize, to get out of his hair, before a strong hand clasps the back of his neck.

“Hold still,” Mason grunts, sitting up and patting around for the edge of the blanket. He pulls it out from under them both, which almost sends the detective rolling off the bed against his will this time, but Mason's hand shifts down to spread across his lower back and hold him steady until he can get them both tucked underneath.

He flops back against the pillows again, one arm tucked under his head and the other loose at his side, and slowly, cautiously, Juni crawls his way under it. The hand lands  on his hip and squeezes, and Juni settles his head back on the vampire’s chest just in time to hear the pleased little rumble there. He flushes down to his chest and bites his lip, distracting himself by petting at Mason’s chest hair.

And then he pokes his flat, brown nipple and says, “Boop!” on some stupid impulse, and giggles like an idiot.

Mason scoffs and rolls his eyes, but shifts so that Juni’s thigh hitches up over his. “Keep that up, sweetheart, and we’ll be going into round two sooner rather than later.” Juni can feel the truth in that statement against his thigh, and he blushes so hotly he knows Mason can feel it at every point their bodies are touching. He might be approaching supernova levels of heat when Mason smugly adds, “Well, round two for me. Three for you.”

He hides his face in Mason’s chest with a long groan. “I’m going to explode,” he declares. “I’m going to collapse like a dying star.”

Mason laughs, sharp and startled and shockingly bright, and Juni’s head shoots up so he can see his face. His hair is a mess, but of course it still looks amazing, hanging around his face in loose, sweat-damp spirals. His vulpine grey eyes are crinkling at the corners, even his sharp nose wrinkling in a way that makes Juni’s heart almost stop. And his mouth, usually either pinned into a scowl, or twisted into a sly (and stupidly attractive) smirk,  is curled into a smile, breathtaking in its open softness.

God, I love you, Juni wants to cry, his heart pounding in counterpoint to the desperate, silent declaration he traps behind his teeth by digging them into his lower lip so hard he’s almost afraid he’s going to make himself bleed. And it doesn’t stop. I love you, I love you, I love you drums in his chest, hums through his blood, and when Mason catches him looking, he reaches out to push the tangled forelock of curls hanging in Juni’s eyes out of his face, cupping his cheek to pull him into a kiss. Juni shivers and braces his hand on Mason’s chest, feeling the vampire’s heart thumping there, steady and stable and achingly familiar. His own matches it beat for beat, and thankfully his mouth is too occupied for the pulsing plea of love me, love me, please love me to spill out. So he dives into it, clings to it, and when Mason breaks away to let him breathe, Juni buries his mouth against the arch of his throat instead, presses messy kisses to his collarbones, his chest, his shoulders, throttles the words before they can escape him and pushes them into touches instead. Touches can’t damn him the way words can.

There’s a soft, shameful part of him he ignores like he always has that whispers to him that maybe, just maybe, if he pours enough of himself into every kiss, every touch, that the words will finally be understood. That the weak little part of him he buries deeper and deeper every time it cries out will finally be seen, and answered, and cradled tenderly in someone’s strong, freckled hands.

But until then, it will sit there in his chest under lock and key and ache, like all his secrets do.

[fonulyn]

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay. 

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it. 

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.  

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away. 

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k |  It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.  

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon.  And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k |  "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.  

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway. 

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder. 

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly. 

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?  

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k |  Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs. 

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.  

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.  

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry. 

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.) 

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food)  | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w  | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion. 

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. --  Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all. 

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.  

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily. 

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

[n-anon]

Fallout (Chapter 1)

Disclaimer: I don’t know how long this will be yet in terms of chapters, BUT THIS IS A SEQUEL SERIES. If you’re planning to read this, Please read My multi-chapter series of Ready Aim Fire, this will have spoilers to that! I’m linking it down below just so y’all can do so.

Ready Aim Fire Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Okay done? All good? Then lets go.

Description: And as the ashes settle, everyone tries to return to what’s normal....And what’s left.

(TW: mentions of death, burning, and self-blame)

“Its been two weeks. His funerals on Tuesday. Are you coming?” Marvin stared at his hands. Still imagining the fire as it leaked through is fingers, he sighed, staring up at Schneep. “....Yeah. Of course.” Schneep nodded, jotting it down, he then set down the notepad, and grabbed  the cup of coffee, drinking from it eagerly, “Okay. Now talk to me.”  Marvin scowled, “I-I can’t. You know that.” Schneep hummed, “Can’t? Or Won’t? Jackie told me you will hardly speak to him. Hell, you can’t even look JJ in the eye. You did what you needed. It doesn’t make it any easier, yes. But locking yourself up for it in your own little mind prison and not talking is going to make it worse.” Marvin grit his teeth, the urge to just-burst out. Let it all burn.....let it go. He couldn’t. Not now. “Also. Jackie says the police need an account, they want it to go well with the public....That you didn’t mean to burn it down.” Marvin opened his mouth angrily, but Schneep cut him off, “I know you meant to burn it down, we all do. But ze people don’t. They want assurances that as Jackie’s new sidekick you weren’t trying to burn it down. That’s what their calling you by the way.” 

Marvin snorted. He was hardly a sidekick. He was the whole damn show...but the show was a mess. He nodded silently, “Can I go now?” Schneep sighed, then took another sip from his coffee, “Yes. Again, if you ever need to talk....well-You know.” the Magician nodded and with that he stormed out, unintentionally slamming the door as Schneep winced, and turned back to his work. He grabbed his pencil and began working, yet again. Of course, Marvin wasn’t the only one going through something right now...they were all suffering. The pieces were on the floor, and he didn’t know who was going to pick them up. Not without.....Nein. They would make it. It would be hard.....But they had to. His phone rang and he answered. “Dr. Schneeplestein’s office, how can I help you today?” 

JJ stood at the pier, staring at the spot. His fists were clenched, remnants...ashes. That’s all it was now. No heartbeat. Nothing he could do. The blaring yellow of the caution tape surrounding what little was left of them....He was happy. Sad.....All mixtures of emotions he couldn’t express out loud. He thought that when he died...It would return. That he could finally....But that was a dream, a false hope that kept him going. And now? All that was left was just the rubble. He felt the hand on his shoulder and the familiar steps. “Jameson? If you’re not ready we can-” He shook his head, and walked forward, glancing at the crumbled warehouse, “I just want to make sure there are no weird temporal differences...is all. They still found the knife, like you-made....them do. I’m just...worried, call it double checking.” Jackie told him that afternoon, JJ was eager to at least get out of the house, seeing boxes piled up near his door was too much to bare. If he was just stronger-No. They would’ve eventually found out. At least, that’s what he told himself. Jackie motions to the security guards, he had told them that JJ was a private investigator friend, he just wanted to double check, what little the police force knew of Anti-before...this, wasn’t much, but they understood he was dangerous, and could probably kill everyone in town if he wasn’t actually dead. He walked, looking around, what was left of the body of Chase had been removed. He sighed, closing his eyes as tears came up, he couldn’t think of that right now. He had to focus. He reached out for anything. Any sign, looking at his wrists he remembered the connection that was there before everything went wrong. Nothing. Not even a yoink. He turned to Jackie, and shook his head. Jackie seemed to relax, as he patted JJ on the shoulder, and the man left in a daze, he needed to get out. To breathe. Jackie stayed behind to talk to the cops, as he made the long journey home.

Stacy Brody wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or just dying inside, but she cried anyway. Finding out that Chase did none of the things he thought he did, Jackie’s final explanation filled with words of vitriol and persuasion, her mind swam as she tried to wrap her mind around it all, but one thing was clear. Chase had died a hero. And she was going to do what little she could to make sure he had a funeral like one. “Mommy?” She turned to see their-her youngest son, still wearing that hat Chase gave him, he looked so much like-She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned off the sink, “What’s wrong?” She asked, turning to him and pulling on her best smile, “Nothing, honey. Just remembering your dad.” The boys expression grew muted, sad, quiet, “Oh.” She had surmised he would know what was happening soon enough anyway, and what kind of mother would she be if she kept that from them? They deserved to know what happened...what kind of person their dad was, before they started forgetting, anyway. “Is...Are Uncle Jackie and the rest gonna be at the funeral?” Her son asked in a quiet voice, “Of course honey, they’ve assured me they’ll make it.” She knew the kids all loved their adoptive ‘Uncles’ “Now, where’s your sister?” The boy crossed his arms, “She’s still in her room.” Stacy sighed, “Okay. I’ll go talk to her, its time for both of you to get to bed anyway. Its late.” The boy pouted, “But mom-” Stacy walked up and picked him up, he was just 8, and she was tired. “C’mon, help me go get your sister to bed, alright, Grayson? You gotta be strong for mommy. If you go to bed early we can read that story about sharks you love so much.” Her sons eyes lit up and she smiled softly, as he ranted on about sharks, she closed her eyes, we’ll be fine. I think.

‘Oh, so you’re new? Welcome to the group chat! You got a name or nickname you use?’

‘You can just call me Blip for the moment, I usually go by that lol. Sorry to hear about your dad D: that really sucks. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. We all are, I think. Anyway yeah I know we’ve just met but hey, if you need someone to talk to...’

‘Absolutely! We’ll help you in anyway, if you need anything, we’ll be here for ya Oli.’ 

‘Thanks guys... I might honestly just take a quick break from....everything, ya know?’

‘Understandable, take all the time you need!’

‘Yeah. I think I can figure out how this place works before too long :P’

Oli laughed at the comment, and smiled, she was glad her friends understood that, she let out a hiccup and wiped the tears from her eyes. She just didn’t know what to think right now, Everyone online was saying it was an accident. She wasn’t stupid. She knew Uncle Marvin had something to do with it, and the funeral was the best place to confront him about it, they needed to know the truth, if not for her for Grayson...at least. She sighed as a knock on the door came, and she exited the chat without much of a goodbye, and laid in bed, “Olivia honey, are you awake?” Her mothers voice creeped through, she let out a very fake snore, hoping she’d take the hint as her mother sighed, “Okay...Love you honey.” She heard the door close as she just buried her face in the pillow, and eventually she fell asleep for real, dreaming of fire.

(A/N: THIS IS A LONG BOI. Also sorry for this very sudden, very out of nowhere sequel series, @rogue-of-broken-time’s post about posting fics we never thought we would make really got me thinking, and eventually thinking got me to go like ‘lol what if I wrote a sequel series based in this uni about the aftermath. And yes the sons name is Grayson cuz haha references, and if you get that reference, you get a gold star. Hope you enjoyed, and as for how long this series is gonna be-Uh...No idea lol We’ll see. This is just mostly set-up. If you want to be added to the tag list, as always, send me a DM, comment below, or ask, and I’ll get right on it!)

Tag List: @segernatural @pyranoia @caithesavage777 @vwoop-prince @antis-gauge @heely-um @therealtiger77 @a-bnana @randowaffle @sharkyg @miishae @innocent-angel3  @darcywillfindyou @asexualerror

[feckin-zicons]

Squids, Dancing, and Dirty thoughts... Not necessarily in that order or all at once.

Apparently people like this? I am more confused than Liam is in this chapter. Which you know, makes sense bc this character only exists in my head, but also doesn’t at all bc I have no idea what goes on in there most of the time. Anyway this is for Zayn, Oxford commas, @stanmedusa who pointed out Zayn was also an Oxford comma stan, @redyellowberry, and their anon to started this mess. Also please imagine Zayn with his current blue hair, but also with his long Aladdin hair bc that’s what I’ve been doing and oh holy gods do I need that to happen. Please. Hair gods make it happen I’m begging

Same warnings as ever its 4AM, this is much longer than planned, and I have no interest in editing, making it sound coherent, or good. No, I don’t know about the squids either.

Parts 1&2 here

Liam would like to point out while he's not a stranger to feeling confused, he's still having trouble pinpointing how exactly he got to be Dance Mistress Irina Alinova's personal bitch. 

Ever since he accidentally interrupted one of the dance practises while looking for a missing prop for Director Corden, more and more of them started disappearing only to show up in the basement. No one else was interested in facing the Dance Mistresses' wrath, but Liam didn't mind the yelling. As long as Mistress Alinova didn't start throwing things, he figured he was safe enough. After all, it gave him the chance to see the blue haired ballerino again.  

Zayn Malik, the god in mortal form, the prima ballerino, the prettiest man Liam had ever seen, who had no idea who Liam even was. 

Liam had it bad. 

Liam had it so bad.

Liam had it so bad he tripped over thin air, spilled hot coffee over himself, and walked into a door when he thought he saw him at a Costas with Louis. The man he saw wasn't Zayn, thank fuck, but the entire sequence of events did give Louis more ammunition to tease him with. Stupid pretty boys with long blue hair and piercings sent from hell just to ruin Liam's life. Yeah, he was a goner. 

Louis dragged out the whole sorry story after Liam texted him about spiking his lunch and laughed himself sick knowing just how much of a mess Liam became around people he was interested in. They still didn't talk about Danielle. Which was a good thing considering the end of that relationship had Liam pretty much swearing off women for the rest of his life. No pussy was worth that mess. Dick though? Liam was willing to take that chance on Zayn, even if asking Harry didn't give him much information. 

According to Harry, Zayn had been around for a few years but mostly kept to himself or the other dancers. There was something about him throwing a fit a few weeks before Liam showed up. Upset about being forced to learn the choreography for Winston's show when it was just going to fail on opening night like it always did. 

Liam thought he had a point, considering. He didn't know what bananas, ballet, and really bad rapping had to do with King James VI but didn't want to voice that in front of the man playing the gay king. No one dared fire Zayn, considering he kept the whole theatre afloat, but it also didn't make many actors happy with him. Especially not Mizz Wendy Williams, who played Marie Antoinette in the play. Again, Liam had a lot of questions he didn't dare ask out loud. It's not like he was ever good at history, so it was entirely possible the two lived in the same time period. Or it was some sort of allegory that went over his head like the aristocrats wearing banana suits did. 

Louis always found his stories about his placement hilarious, but even that one had him wondering if there wasn't some sort of gas leak in their apartment. It wouldn't have been the first time, or the second. Most likely, it was the theatre that was growing some sort of mold that caused insanity if breathed in. Some of the things Liam had been forced to clean in the past few weeks were unspeakable. 

But even that probably couldn't explain Zayn Malik. Nothing could explain that sort of beauty and talent. Or those hands... and thighs... and fingers. Ung. Liam would love to get up close and personal with all of him.  

Either way, Liam had just been cleaning the mirrors in the practice room, humming along to Brandy and Monica on the radio, wondering if Niall was actually going to come down and help him instead of hiding away like a coward. Again. By the second verse, he'd given up trying not to sing along, not expecting anyone to come by. It was late, the dancer's practise long over, and Winston left screaming over an hour ago. Liam would have done a recce and skipped out on the last half hour if one of the managers wasn't sticking around still. Piers Morgan, an absolute cunt who treated the lads on probation like hardened criminals, and he was the prison warden. Despite, you know, most of the lads on summary probation, and Liam’s arson charge being the most serious crime out of all of them. 

Anyway, the last thing he's expecting is for anyone to come in while he's singing about the boy being his, rolling his body to the beat. Which is probably how he ends up tripping over himself when he notices Zayn leaning up against the open door, watching him. Watching him, in bright, tight, teal dance tights (were dance tights usually blue? They should be) that looked nice with his hair and complimented the gold tones of his skin. The skin he could see a lot of. Because he was shirtless. Because he was shirtless and had a lot more tattoos than Liam realized. Tattoos Liam wanted to bite. Not hard enough to make a mark or anything, that would be sacrilegious, but enough to make him make a sound. God, Liam hoped he was a moaner. Not that he thought he had a chance with Zayn or anything, but it would be a shame if Zayn was the type that stayed quiet during sex. 

Except he wasn't being quiet now, he was talking. And Liam was staring at him, like an idiot, not paying attention. Because he was an idiot. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, why did this always happen to him? 

"Er, what?" Liam asked, desperately hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he felt right then, which was pretty fucking stupid. He probably looked even stupider than he felt and ruined his chances at ever-

"I asked if you were almost done? Was planning on practising more tonight," Zayn answered him. 

Zayn, Zayn Fucking Malik, answered him, and he was still staring at him like an idiot. Shit Liam say something.

"Pretty" 

Not that you idiot.

"What?" Zayn asked, looking confused and adorable.

Oh god, he was precious. Was that a smile? Was he smiling at him? Liam? Oh no.

"Pretty much, I meant. Pretty much done," Liam replied, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "Just one more mirror, and I'll be out of your way."

There, those were words, sentences even. Now all he had to do was act normal and finish cleaning. Easy. 

"So, Brandy and Monica, right? You like R'n'B then?" Zayn asked him, walking into the room with a heavy dance bag, setting it off to the side.

Liam felt himself flushing as he turned back around to finish cleaning the mirror so Zayn wouldn't see.  "Yeah," he answered, trying not to peek at Zayn bending over as he rifled through his belongings. 

Those legs, Fuck. Liam wondered what it'd feel like to have them around his- 

"I didn't expect that," Zayn said, drawing Liam out of his filthy thoughts, and making him turn back around.

"What?"

"No, I- I didn't mean it in a bad way or anything. I guess I just expected you to listen to more rock?" 

Liam was pretty sure he missed half of the conversation somewhere. Was Zayn blushing? He was so pretty. Wow. 

"No, I like everything," he replied dumbly. They were still talking about music, right? That would make sense. Why was Zayn talking to him again? God, Liam couldn't handle this. "Do you like it? The music, I mean."

"Yeah, grew up listening to ‘em. My older sister was obsessed with Monica. So... Who's your favourite artist?" 

"Artist? Oh uh, I've been listening to a lot of Post Malone? How about you? What do you- who do you listen to?" 

"Post Malone's sick, mate. I like most music I guess, but I've been listening to a lot of The Weekend."

"Have you heard his new album?"

"Yeah, it's sick! Do you-" Zayn was cut off by Niall running in out of breath. The bright orange tee that labelled him as one of the community service workers was wet and stained black. Actually.. all of him was soaked and stained black. Was that ink?

"Hey, Payno, are you done yet because we have a situation upstairs," Niall gasped out, hands on his knees, looking like he'd just seen his life flash before his eyes. 

"What the hell happened to you?" 

"There's a squid stick in the toilet." 

"There's a what?"

"A Squid! A giant fucking squid in the toilet!" 

Liam blinked in confusion, trying to wrap his head around why there would be a squid anywhere near the theatre let alone one of the toilets. Did Corden want live animals in his show now? Or Winston. It could be either of them. 

"Why do you need me?" he asked. "I don't know anything about squids."

Niall sounded like he was at the end of his rope when he replied, "You know something about plumbing at least!" 

"Not a lot! Enough to keep the water on at home, but I'm not a plumber." 

"Doesn't matter, we need your help, Ashtons gone to find some butter," Niall said, stomping back around, leaving behind a trail of watery black ink. "We'll meet you upstairs when you're done."

"Wait, what do you need butter for?!" Liam called after him but didn't get a reply. Butter? How was butter going to help?

A muffled giggle distracted Liam from his thoughts, and he was abruptly reminded Zayn was still in the room. Zayn, might as well be a god, was in the room, and Liam was just talking about squids in toilets.

Why him?

"I guess I should go see what they need help with?" Liam tried to say without sounding... Well, he wasn't sure what the proper response was in this situation or how to react to it. 

Zayn smiled at him, and oh. How was it possible he looked even more attractive now? 

Liam thinks Zayn said something about the other lads needing him and it sounding urgent, but really, Liam was in a daze until he also got a face full of ink... From another squid in an entirely different toilet. 

What the fuck.

Louis was never going to let him live this down. 

Really? Squids???

[touchmycoat]

Lev!anon: can i slip into your asks to scream for a bit about Maltese Falcon Job?? I mean, think about LQG saying he won't walk away, or ripping apart a zip tie, or counting down as he blazes his way through armed bad guys, or looking betrayed as HX gives himself up to save the team, and think about HX listening to the big bad telling his men to kill LQG and not be able to do a thing - can only trust that LQG will survive, and silently bleeding out. TELL ME YOU DON'T SCREAM ABOUT IT EVERY DAY!

YES YES YES YES YES OH LORD. in the post-First & Second David Job Leverage!AU universe, Sterling is totally Ling Wen, right? Ambitious and capable, but also a right bastard if she needs to be (remember when she was like "I'll be good" and ten minutes later she's escaping and XL's like "you lied to me??" and she was like "yeah?" lsdnfjlaskdfj, legendary). Man I'll have to dig up my notes on the Maltese Falcon job again but YEAH, HX APPARENTLY SELLING HIS TEAM OUT TO LW?? HX GETTING SHOT AND NOT SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT IT?????? AAAAAHHHH??????

(fic-wise, let's double the emotions by having, at the very beginning, maybe a scene of them wrapping up another job, and HX takes a (stupid) risk that results in LQG getting a little bit stabbed also in the stomach area. LQG's fine, but that kickstarts the "are you taking excessive risks because the power of taking down all these bad guys is getting to your head?"/"are you trying to keep too many balls up in the air?"/"are you taking unacceptable chances with the crew's well-being?" conversation, which is the theme that runs throughout the entire con of HX doing the Three Strikes Job and the Maltese Falcon Job. That way, at the very end, right before HX reveals that yeah, he did run a con on his own crew, but to save them, not betray them, he can sit there handcuffed alone to the pier with his own stomach wound and think about how they're even...)

bloody, growling, and angry LQG stomping through the ship with his murderous countdown, mmmmm....that's it. like, that's it.

(and imagine ksjdnkf HX sending a visitation request to LQG that the team first finds out about—LQG's like "why me specifically??" and SQQ's like "um, it's for a conjugal visit. Remember when you two had to get married?" "you mean when we had to get fake married??" "Listen Xuedi, I do my job right, and that means everything is as good as authentic. Go have your conjugal visit! and sneak a comm in to him." "How am I supposed to—shut your damn mouth, Luo Binghe, I wasn't asking you!"

once inside, LQG's pissed as hell. "I don't trust a man who runs a con on his own crew, He Xuan." "First you don't trust me because I'm risking the team, now you don't trust me because I took a risk myself. Make up your mind already." "The problem isn't who takes the risks, it's that you didn't stop even when it was unnecessary." "You want me to stop? Leave me in jail." "He Xuan!" "I don't know why you're acting so self-righteous about it, you're the worse hypocrite." "What the hell are you talking about?" "How many broken ribs do you have again?" "They're fractured, and that's my job." "Just like it's my job to know when to take the fall. To run the trolley over one person instead of four." "No, your job is to figure out how to get all five people free and then punish the person who tied them there in the first place! Even one loss is unacceptable." "Unless that one is you." "Shut up, I know how to get myself out." "...Do you know how to get someone else out? Good work, Liu Qingge. Somehow you've managed to knock some sense into me without a literal fist fight. For once." "Hmph, isn't that why you called for me in the first place?")

[lunarrwolf]

black butterflies [colby brock]

fandom: sam and colby/traphouse

pairing: colby x self

word count: 1,963

part(s): one

summary: after a prank gone wrong, colby and his friends meet another youtuber during her meet and greet in hopes it will cheer her up

A/N: this is a self-insert because it’s a fic that was started for my own personal pleasure. it was supposed to be shared last year on my fan account after a poll was done but never was bc i ended up not feeling ready to do so. i figured since i‘m ready to share it now, it would be best to do it here since it’s pretty detailed

ONE

“What’s up guys?! It’s your girl Kirsy here, and today we’re going to be entering Freetown State Forest. Otherwise known as The Cursed Forest of Massachusetts.” The girl looked into her camera brightly, the excitement of finally being able to explore her home state’s most bizarre places setting in as she recorded.

“Wait - cursed? You didn’t say anything about that.” Her best friend and roommate exclaimed, red locks shaking as quickly as her head was. Casey had been interrupted during a well credited movie of theirs when her friend decided she wanted to go out and take advantage of the fact that neither of them had any plans for the weekend. And as usual in their two bedroom home, no morning schedules meant the freedom to explore the best-worst possible places and capture it all on film for both social network and personal use.

“Didn’t I?” Kirsy chimed, turning the camera toward her roommate who only glanced into the object before shooting her friend the middle finger. She laughed and followed the retreating figure toward the path that would eventually lead them into the actual forest. It was a widened road of dirt and rocks, causing the two of them to nearly trip every so often. The sun was just beginning to set, so the scenery on the other side of the camera was something the green haired girl was glad she was able to capture as she filmed. They continued to walk down the barren path for about forty-five minutes - trees starting to surround them after a half hour - and by then the sun had set quickly without notice and the night began. She could hear Casey muttering about how the place was significantly creepier, and an idea popped into her head. She turned the camera to herself and glanced up to make sure no attention was being brought to her before looking into the lens. “So we’ve been walking for nearly an hour. Casey is already kind of freaked out because of how dark it is, so as her best friend I thought it would be fun to do a little prank on her.”

“What are you doing?” She looked up to meet the narrowed eyes of the redhead that caught her speaking lowly to the camera.

Casey’s eyes didn’t falter from their current state as she continued to glare at the other girl. “Kirsy, I swear if you’re planning something-”

Kirsy scoffed, “What would I be planning out here? Your murder? No thanks - too much work.” She finished off, laughing lightly at the expression she received before the girl with reddish brown locks turned back to survey their surroundings. Kirsy did the same thing for the following ten minutes of their walk. The only sounds they heard so far were forest animals and the wind rustling through the loose leaves of the trees. There was the occasional crunch or branch snapping, which unnerved both of the girls until they would see some small critter scattering to another bush or inside a hole somewhere. She really wanted to pull a practical joke on her friend after not being able to do one on her the whole month she’d been gone on a trip prior to this night. It seemed to be quiet enough to where she wouldn’t really suspect a thing. As long as comments were made from behind her, Casey wouldn’t notice.

She took the opportunity when they were nearing a fork in the pathway and jokingly said something about the atmosphere of the place that would make her friend give her a knowing look. And that was just what happened. However, when Casey turned around, the main star of the channel the video would be posted on was nowhere to be seen. She turned in a full circle slowly, being even more aware and extremely careful where she stepped so she wouldn’t disrupt the sudden silence of the area. “Kirsy.. Kirsy.” She hissed out, moving toward the edge of the path. “I swear to god if this is one of your pranks-” A twig snapped from directly beside her once she got to the natural line that separated a way back to civilization from unpredictable darkness. Her heart was pounding, and tears were springing in her eyes. It had been too long of a time since her last appearance in one of her friend’s scary videos; she forgot how frightening things could get within minutes or hours of arriving somewhere.

There was an obnoxiously loud rustling coming from the same direction, and she approached the bushes to her right cautiously. Reaching a reluctant arm out, she started to move stuff away from her so she could peer behind the plant. As her face got closer, someone jumped out and screamed a scream that was deadly enough to be included in a horror film. “Shit!” Casey jumped back, almost falling to the ground if she hadn’t been able to balance herself.

She glared up at the girl who was trying hard to hold on to the camera as she held her stomach in laughter. “Holy crap, you should’ve seen your face!”

“Dude. What the fuck!” Casey stood back up and snatched the camera away from her friend, marching away as she ignored the calls of the hysterical girl running to catch up.

-

A small group of friends sat on the leather couch in the living room, watching a fellow YouTuber explore a haunted forest with only one other person. It was entertaining to say the least - the amount of times the media influencer messed with her friend was endless, and it only got better when payback would be put into order. One of the darker haired males shook his head, a smile on his face as he shared an amused look with his friends. “I need to marry this girl.”

“Marry who?”

Brennen looked up to see a brunette enter from upstairs, looking at the group of them with curiosity written all over their faces. “Kirsy, dude. Not only is she rocking the new hair, but she obviously knows how to have fun.” Colby didn’t hesitate to join the others on the couch once he heard the name. She was very well known in their industry; a skyrocketing vlogger who stuck to the same several categories of videos and never failed to deliver quality content. She was known to go above and beyond for her fans after having been one herself for years before deciding to dive into the world of explorations. At a recent milestone of 500,000 subscribers, she not only released new merch, she also scheduled a last minute meet and greet that had the sidewalks and almost half of the central park of Boston flooded with local fans of hers. She was someone the members and friends of the trap house admired, as she wasn’t afraid to be herself even when others put her down and criticized the way she behaved on camera.

“Guys, check it out. She added something at the end of this.” Jake brought the guys’ attention back to the computer from their phones. She wasn’t smiling and didn’t hold a bright aura like she usually did when adding bits recorded after her adventures. When she spoke it sounded normal, but after having watched her for the past three years, the boys knew when something was off. They watched the girl give the lens a wry smile before clearing her throat, glancing away as she dove right into the point of the additional bit.

“So this part was recorded a couple of nights after we went into the forest. Casey hasn’t been with me since we got back.” She started off. “I did realize after the fact that she was genuinely mad at me, and I do feel really bad about it. She’d been gone for a month before then. Which meant she didn’t have to deal with abandoned houses, restless spirits, or me and my stupidity - so she wasn’t prepared to be brought back into the swing of things so quickly. I take full responsibility for any actual fear I caused her, and I want to apologize for doing this to her right as she got back from what I know was a good, relaxing trip for her. I did apologize off camera as soon as I caught up with her and she did say she forgave me. However, she uh- she won’t be in videos anymore. And I’m going to be honest with you guys...” She trailed off, and Colby’s heart lurched when he noticed the glossiness in her eyes, “I don’t know where our friendship stands. We know each other’s limits, and while I didn’t go too far, I think she just got tired of me doing all of this. So... yeah.” She gave a dry chuckle, tugging at the end of her sleeves.

“Damn.. she must be crushed right now.” Mike commented, glancing between his friends as they all gave their agreements.

“I can’t even imagine possibly losing you guys.” Sam added.

“And over a prank - Casey’s pretty cold.” Corey brought in, changing his position on the couch and leaning forward when the girl began to speak again.

“Anyway, I’m sure you guys didn’t keep watching just to see me get all emotional. So on to the good news!” The green haired girl continued, clapping her hands together and smiling brightly at the camera as if nothing happened. Still, they could see the look in her eyes, and it was unsettling to see the otherwise outgoing Dominican that way. “I'll be going to Los Angeles in a few days on business, and am happy to announce that I'll also be having a meetup at Santa Monica Pier. I haven't set the exact date in case my schedule goes out of whack, but I will be bringing along someone special. I expect that our family's policy of acceptance will be applied to him.”

“Wait wait wait - my girl's got a man?”

Mike rolled his eyes, smirking at Brennen. “If she was yours, wouldn't she know you exist?”

There was a short amount of silence while the targeted guy looked over with a playfully offended look on his face. “That was cold.” The guys laughed and chuckled, but deep down they still felt bad about what they just heard. The ginger had been by the brunette's side since the start of the channel. Though Casey was mostly the support and a guest in abandoned vlogs and some other types of videos, she would speak out as her friend's defense and help out in any way she could. Some would have figured that a month off would have her ecstatic in going back into working with her best friend. However, it sounded like that time away made her less for the type of content Kirsy had and more against it. The latter of the two must have been devastated at that moment.

“We should go meet her.” Sam announced. “Sounds like it's free - and Brennen could use an ego boost if she does know he exists.”

“You guys gotta give me a little credit here. My channel's pretty big.”

“Yes, but has she acknowledged it?” The dyed brunette questioned, laughing at the glare he received in return. It seemed like it was a unanimous agreement to take a short trip to the pier when she arrived, but everyone was vocal except for Colby. Sam shook his best friend's shoulder, and the young man blinked, switching his gaze over to the former blonde. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, glancing back at the screen. “I agree. We should go meet her.”