#i’m cupping my hands around my mouth like a megaphone. i’m cradling your face in my palms. Do You Understand

[fruitdaze]

anyway i can’t believe this still needs to be said but wei wuxian is not (and never has been) a stupid person! he has a clearly brilliant technical mind for cultivation and a clearly brilliant creative mind for inventions but he’s also never been “bad” at his own emotions or feelings. he was a teenager who liked to play around and then he was a slightly older teenager who was still trying to figure himself out, just like many teenagers (fictional and real) are still trying to figure themselves out, and plus he was dealing with more pressing issues like Stopping A Genocide and Not Dying throughout it all. he quite literally did not have the free time for self-reflection until he was resurrected. i know we all like to joke about how many signs he missed in the romance department but none of those cues were missed because wwx is dumb. they were missed for the above reasons and because he was thrown into a murder mystery plot immediately after being brought back to life, which maybe occupied the majority of his thoughts, and also because the romance cues were coming from lan wangji. i would challenge anyone to pick up on those man’s emotions without being his brother or a reader with preexisting knowledge of the situation. let’s see how well YOU would do

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I have a question 🙋‍♀️ what would vamp!h get y/n’s mom for Mother’s Day? Would he cook for her? Bring her flowers? How thick would he lay it on?

He would come over with a huge Edible Arrangements basket and balloons, and she’d nearly have a stroke when she opens the door because he screams, “Happy Mother’s Day!” as loud as he possibly can, causing it to echo throughout the whole condominium.

“You idiot, what are you doing?!” Y/N grabs him by the front of his yellow Led Zeppelin tee and yanks him inside her entry corridor, sticking her head out to see if anyone had witnessed his little charade. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Harry can barely get his words out through his snickering. “I’m just being a good boyfriend! S’only fair, given how often your tits end up in my mouth.”

“You’re being a stupid little prick!” She corrects sharply, glaring at him over her shoulder as she grips the door to close it. “I’m surprised you didn’t get a megaphone.”

“They were out.”

“Eat shit.”

As Y/N is about to swing the door shut, a new uninvited voice startles her, causing both of their heads to whip in its direction. “Oh my God, congratulations on your baby!”

One of Y/N’s neighbors— a young teacher she’s only ever spoken to maybe three times in the mail room— stops in her tracks on her trip towards the apartment complex’s staircase, gawking at Harry with giddy curiosity, who is holding his array of motherly gifts in his toned arms. The devious smirk that slowly creeps across his face makes his partner want to slap him immediately.

Y/N turns to face the woman, already shaking her head in order to debunk the assumption she had made, her voice light and high-pitched. “Oh, no, I’m not—”

Harry interrupts her halfway through, poking his head over her shoulder with a dazzling grin dimpling his cheeks, his tone doused with theatrical excitement and dramatic sappiness. “Thank you so much! It was all pretty unexpected, but it’s become such a gift for the both of us— we truly just can’t wait to see our little boy come into the world.”

Y/N’s jaw drops open in disbelieving— and mildly infuriated— shock at her boyfriend’s antics. God, he’s in for it.

Her neighbor’s mood lights up even brighter, and it pains Y/N to see how genuinely happy the girl seems to be for the couple and their imaginary child. “That’s so precious! Have you got any names in mind?”

Y/N clears her throat roughly, forcing a tight smile onto her stinging face. “We haven’t really—”

“Bradley.”

Her head snaps towards him in blatant astonishment, and the look on her face holds enough rage to set an entire forest on fire. You fucking asshole.

“That’s such a lovely name for a little boy!”

Harry simpers at his girlfriend innocently, leaning down to press a seemingly chaste kiss to her forehead, directing his voice to the woman before them. Despite his harmless act, his eyes are alight with evil mirth and she can see him struggling to hold back laughter. “Yeah, it’s a namesake for Y/N’s best friend back home. Holds a lot of sentimental value.”

Y/N is left with no choice but to play along, much to her burning hatred. She spits her words out through gritted teeth and boiling cheeks. “Yeah. It’s...special.”

The teacher— who’s name Y/N now vaguely recalls is Samantha— cups both of her hands over her chest in a heartfelt gesture, giving the pair a doting gaze. “How sweet. Can I ask how far along you are?”

“Just over two months.” Harry answers easily, shifting his large fruit basket onto one of his hips along with all of the pink and purple foil Mother’s Day balloons, snaking his free arm around Y/N’s waist until his palm cradles her tummy. He gives it a gentle symbolic squeeze, sweetening his demeanor to the point where Y/N thinks she might get a toothache. He tugs her whole body into his with fake protectiveness, swaying her softly for the full smitten dad-to-be effect, and she has to resist the urge to stomp on his foot with all her strength. “It feels like we met just yesterday and now we have a little angel on the way; feels like fate. Right, baby?”

Y/N bites her tongue to avoid cursing him out in front of Samantha. “Right.”

“That’s so incredible! Congratulations again!”

Once the young woman has gone about her business and Y/N is finally able to shut her door in peace, she reels around on her boyfriend, who is cackling unapologetically as he sets all of his presents down beside the doorframe. Y/N reaches forward and socks him in the shoulder pettily. “I fucking hate you.”

She goes to whack him upside the head next, but Harry catches her wrist mid-air, wheezing as he wipes tears from his eyes with the back of his free hand. “Easy, Dwayne Johnson. Pregnant mothers shouldn’t engage in rigorous activity— it’s bad for the baby.”

She yanks her arm loose, stepping towards him and swiping at his other shoulder, missing by a hair as he begins to back down the hallway. “It’s good to hear you say that, because sex counts as a rigorous activity, so you won’t be getting any sometime soon.”

Harry ducks as she swings for his head again, reaching forward and pinching her belly playfully just to annoy her further, giggling when she lets out a grunt of frustration. “That’s a bit dire, don’t you think? I heard sex eases all the backaches— releases helpful hormones and what not.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Mood-swings are normal, too! You know what helps with that? Sex.”

“Shut up.”

“I bet he’ll have your eyes.”

“Shut up.”

“And with my curls and charm? He’ll be the talk of the playground.”

[zhanyes]

The Louvre

https://open.spotify.com/track/5q4BpnMrYEFzLO0dYODj6J?si=2b748fedb75c4a05

To @myscprin​ who asked #64 for Tianshan !!

. . .

A rush at the beginning I get caught up, just for a minute But lover, you're the one to blame All that you're doing Can you hear the violence? Megaphone to my chest Broadcast the boom, boom, boom, boom And make 'em all dance to it

. . .

Mo Guanshan groaned for the nth time as he checked the time on his phone again. 2:50 pm. Was it too late to bail now?

Somehow, really he can’t even remember what they were talking about (or why he was even talking to that bastard in the first place), but somehow it slipped out from his cursed mouth that he’s never been to an art museum. And because He tian, being the leech that he is, latched on to that thought and pestered him until he agreed to go with him to this art museum that recently opened this coming weekend.

He even cleared out his part-time work for the day with a copious amount of bribe to the manager. Bastard.

So here he was now suspiciously early at the front of the museum waiting, really it’s just because He tian won’t stop whining in his ear if he didn’t agree. It has nothing to do with the ravenette insisting it’s a date, it is not. Case in point, he DOESN’T want to be here, really really.

“Fucking chicken dick, being late. What the hell is taking him so long?” Mo Guanshan grumbled once he saw the clock hit 3 pm.

“Or maybe you’re just early. Are you that excited to go on a date with me?” He tian whispers in his ear from behind causing him to tense up at the sudden intrusion in his personal space.

“FUCK! WHO’S EXCITED?! YOU’RE EXCITED!” Mo screamed, whipping around and throwing a punch at the smug bastard who easily caught it in his own hand, smoothly entwining their hands together. Mo Guanshan sputtered at the shameless gesture, trying in vain to grab his hand back. “Trying” being the key word.

He tian simply ignores his protests and drags him along to the entrance. Knowing that it’s a loss cause to keep cursing out the smug bastard, Mo reduced his protests to grumbles, but not before squeezing He tian’s hand in a crushing grip, satisfied at the look of discomfort he received. 

He tian pays for their tickets and they head inside, Mo looks around curiously, there were paintings in every wall of the room, and he moved closer to look at one of them, He tian being surprisingly docile and following him quietly.

The painting turns out to be an abstract art, showcasing a messy mix of shades of yellow seemingly not forming an image. He tilted his way this way and that, trying to see what it’s about but coming up empty so he huffed, frustrated. 

“It kind of reminds me of Jian yi, noh?” He tian suddenly speaks up, taking a picture of the painting and sending it to said blonde.

“What?”

“See? It’s messy and too bright. It’s even in yellow.” 

Mo Guanshan snickers at that, looking back at the painting and finally seeing the resemblance.

“You think we’ll see Zhengxi here too?”

“Probably, the universe might collapse if they’re not together, even as paintings.”

Mo Guanshan allows himself to share a short laugh with He tian before he schooled his features to his usual ‘bitchface’. He tian drags him off to the other paintings on the wall, sharing a few words about the pieces and mostly shit-talking each other.

“This reminds me of you.”

“The fuck am I looking at? It’s literally a drawing of a dumb-looking fish.”

“Exactly.”

‘Wha- YOU FUCKER WHO ARE YOU CALLING A DUMB FISH?!”

They spend a few more minutes in the room, and getting disapproving glances they completely ignore from the other patrons because of their antics, before moving to another part of the exhibit.

They spend hours taking pictures as Mo reluctantly agrees to ONE picture with He tian, on his phone of course so he can delete it right after (He won’t, he just doesn’t want to ask He tian to send the photo to him if they used the other’s phone) and debating about which artwork reminds them of which.

One of the highlights of the trip was when He tian found out that there were beds scattered around a portion of the exhibit, free to sit and lay on by visitors. He drags Mo to the beds, the redhead digging his feet on the ground trying desperately to avoid getting them both banned for public indecency. Once again, “trying” being the keyword.

After a warning from one of the guards, they simply laid side by side on the bed, uncharacteristically quiet as they watched the clouds pass by and the sun slowly go down the horizon.

“I’ve never actually been to an art museum before.” He tian says quietly, resolutely keeping his gaze on the skies even as Mo guanshan turns to look at him in surprise. For all the times the ravenette had pestered and straight-up invaded Mo guanshan’s  life, He tian almost never shares anything about himself. 

“I always wanted to go to one, I remember I used to keep bugging my mom and my brother about it, but no one would take me so I kinda just forgot about it.” The way He tian says it was full of longing, like he was remembering something from a long time ago. 

Mo guanshan gets the sudden urge to make that longing disappear, to keep it away from the other where it wouldn’t burden him anymore. He mentally shook his head to dislodge the thought. Just as he was about to tell the other that they should get off the bed already and maybe find something to eat, his breath caught on his throat at the new sight.

Boom, boom, boom

He can feel his heart thudding in his chest as He tian turned his head to look at him, eyes devoid of anything but fondness and a smile so soft it felt illegal to look at it. He looks relaxed, content, and in love. 

“But I’m glad that I got to experience it with you instead.” He tian says softly, his skin glowing a vibrant orange from the last bits of sunlight clinging to him like a fire that Mo guanshan wants to reach out to, to put out if only to fully see his face untainted.

Boom, boom, boom

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until his hand touches a warm cheek, cradling it softly. He tian looks surprised at the gesture, but makes no move to get away or to get closer. Wasn’t it He tian before who said it? That sometimes the distance between two people makes you desire to close it, to come closer…

Boom, boom, boom

And closer…

Boom, boom, boom

Just a little closer…

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, gentlemen.” The same guard from earlier says, as he crosses his arms impatiently. Realizing what he’s about to do, in public no less, Mo guanshan jumps up the bed and starts speedwalking to another portion of the exhibit. He tian simply sighs and stands as well to follow his redhead, but not before giving a scathing glare at the guard who interrupted them only to receive a glare right back. Rude.

He catches up to Mo and slings an arm around his shoulder. He was going to ask about what happened earlier and if they could continue where they left off, but he notices the way the other’s cheeks and ears are flamed red and resolutely trying to avoid his eyes so he takes pity and chooses to let it go for now.

They find a small fancy cafe inside the museum and decide to get dinner there, where Mo guanshan buys a shocked He tian a mango shake, saying it’s only a little payback for everything the other teen had to pay for today. He tian bribes the manager to let him keep the cup as a souvenir. By the time they finished they were both tuckered out from all the walking and sightseeing.

“I had fun today, Mo~” He tian sing-songs as he walks Mo guanshan to his door, having insisted to drive the other home (“Where did you even get a car? You’re literally underaged.”).

“Tch. Whatever. Stop bothering me already.” Mo guanshan grumbles, before muttering under his breath, “Just get home safely, idiot.”

He tian grins as he hears the other’s sweet (?) reminder, he thinks about it for a moment before shrugging and moving swiftly to plant a kiss on the other’s cheek, near the side of his mouth but not quite. Before Mo guanshan can muster up a response from his sputtering, he jumped away and swiftly walked backwards to his car with a, “Will do, boss Mo! Bye-bye~”

“Yo- YOU! COME BACK HERE!”

He tian laughs as he gets inside his car and drives away with a final flying kiss out the window to the redhead. Once he’s parked in his spot in the mansion, he checks his phone and grins at the messages he received from his redhead.

Don’t close mountain:

YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD !!!!!

OI WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!!!

You better not check your phone while driving or I’m going to skin you alive.

Tch. Asshole.

Don’t close mountain sent a photo. 

(Photo: The two of them taking a selfie in front of a sculpture of two people made of metal wires intertwined on a swing set)

Because I know you’ll be an asshole if I don’t send it

This is your fault so take responsibility, chicken dick

I’m free next Sunday

Oh he can’t wait to brag about this to Jian yi, He tian grins as he giddily walks into the mansion in search of the blonde.

[ilkkawhat]

come find me

[just something short and sweet that came out of my gifs from yesterday (and a convo with @csinickstokes) daltonstokes lemon content]

Jack awakens from a dream that was born on the very cloud he’s floating on. His arms stroke through the waves of silk, his fingers stretching out and searching for the lifesaver he tethered himself to the night before, but much to his dismay, Nick Stokes is out of his reach. 

“Nick?” Jack sighs, one hand wiping the dust out of his eyes as he rolls over, propping himself up. Maybe Nick rolled to the edge of the bed.

When his eyes open, and he sees nothing but the impression left in the wake of Nick’s body. The space doesn’t even feel warm.

He’s been gone for a while, and that realization makes him feel like he’s fallen from heaven straight into hell.

“Yo, Nick-ay!” Jack hollers, cupping his hands together against his mouth like an improvised megaphone. 

Still no response, just the gentle whir of the air conditioner. 

He shimmies over, peering over the side of the bed, maybe Nick had fallen off—it’s happened before in rough nights either by an outburst of fists as Jack fends off his demons, or hands pulling Nick back underground—but all that’s there is the clothes that Nick stripped away from him last night.

Last night, last night...There’s a throbbing in his head as he squeezes his face, trying to clear up the whiskied haze to recall their last words to each other, their last touches. Was it something he did? Was it something he said? 

The trepidatious beat of his heart crashes entirely when he finds a folded card placed on top of the pillow that previously cradled Nick’s head, another piece of the puzzle falling into his lap. 

He growls as he sits himself up against the backboard of the bed, his desire to learn what he’s done outweighing the fear of Nick’s abandonment—but his desires and fears are morphed into something new when he reads the three words written to instruct him on what to do next.

The sleek handwriting was unmistakable. There’s no haste to it, but the curves outline the heart that beats through the paper against his fingers, sending a shiver from his throat to his throttle.

Come find me

“Oh, I’m comin’ alright, Stokes,” Jack grins. He picks up the fallen picture that fell out of the card and seethes a sharp breath of air as he traces the image with a pulse vibrating throughout his body. 

It’s a picture of Nick, naked, sprawled out across a bed that’s not theirs, a hand gesturing for Jack to jump in as the other gestures to the fully exposed erection he managed to hold for an impressive amount of time before Jack finally pounced—yet he can’t remember where this picture was taken, just the ecstasy it captured.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from jumping out of bed, quickly putting on the same clothes he spotted on the floor just moments prior and visiting all of their usual haunts, knocking down doors and pseudo-interrogating receptionists that the paranoia in him screams were paid off by Nick to steer him off course.

But finally, after an entire day of searching, he finds Nick in the first room they rented together on the first night that they met. A key card was waiting in the lobby, and room service had already been to the room.

He opens the door and Nick is waiting, frozen in the frame-perfect image that was shared with him in the photograph that’s hidden in his shirt pocket under his jacket that he begins to sheathe off.

“Well, well, well, there he is! What took you so damn long?”

“Hey, you’re the CSI, not me!” Jack scoffs. He throws himself onto the bed, Nick bounces up and slaps him playfully on his bare chest.

“Thought you went to some special training. At-atmost?” 

“AMOS, Advanced Mountain Operations School, and I think you failed geography if you think there’s a mountain around here, Stokes.”

“Only mountain I see is the one sticking up between your legs,” Nick licks his lips and his hand descends down, but Jack catches his wrist and flips him over, straddling Nick on his back. 

“Not so fast, I haven’t found the buried treasure yet…” 

“Buried treasure?” Nick groans while Jack pins both wrists together against Nick’s spine.

“Yeah, you know…” Jack’s finger traces Nick’s spinal column down to his puckered butthole. “X marks the spot. ‘S why you gave me a map, wasn’t it, hun?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Nick pants, preparing himself. Jack leans in, putting even more pressure and teasing Nick with his touch—the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck tickle his nostrils, his own hot breath washing over Nick’s, his finger taking the plunge as he says:

“Happy anniversary, Nicky.”